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sxnnimoon · 3 years

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Little One pt. 6

Part 6 is here babies! I hope you all love it and I hope you all have a great weekend! (also if anyone knows to do those text and social media posts of artists and celebs please let me know!)

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“Park seo joon… WHY?!” you glared at him.

“Oh come on princess,” he smirked. “You should know me better than anyone else.”

You tried to move away from his hand that came to your face.

“You were mine before theirs.” he grabbed your face.

“You’re crazy.” you said, barely above a whisper.

“It was only a matter of time before I could have you all for myself.” he smirked leaning in.

You whispered out a no before he let go of your face. He took a few steps away from you before he turned around and hit you, instantly apologizing.

You spit out a bit of blood, you wanted nothing more than to cry out but tried keeping yourself together.

“What will you gain from this?” you looked up at him with disgust.

“What aren’t you getting?” he tilted his head. “I finally have what's mine. You would be mine if they didn’t come into the picture. They always took away what was mine.”

You were confused on what he meant but you could see the sadness in his eyes for a split second, but it soon switched to anger.

He rushed towards you. Fear setting in, not knowing what he was going to do. He untied you from the chair leaving your feet and hands bound. He picked you up, carrying you out of the empty room. You tried looking at where you were, all you could see was a carpeted floor and paintings scattered on the wall. It felt familiar, like you had been here before but you couldn’t think of where. Before you knew it you were thrown on to a bed. You clutched the shirt that covered your body tight feeling the sleeves slip down your shoulders. Looking around the room you could finally piece together where you were.

“The villa…” you whispered.

He chuckled darkly, he knew you figured it out.

“Why bring me here?” you looked at him confused. “They will find me. It’s only a matter of ti-“

He slapped you.

“ENOUGH!” he yelled, making you jump back. “Let them come. It won’t end well for them.”

He left the room soon after. You couldn’t believe he would bring you to the one place they would find you, the villa your family owned, it was where you met Seo Joon in your high school days, it also had been a place you would bring the boys when you wanted a few days away in the woods for peace and quiet. You both were best friends up until you married. His behavior changed once you started seeing any of the boys, it had become clingy and possessive. You never knew him like that, he was always the sweet, shy and smart Park Seo Joon. you couldn’t grasp where it all went wrong. It saddened you but you had to remain strong, you couldn’t let your guard down.

A few hours passed and he finally returned, this time with food and water. He walked towards you, making you tense up and move away. He pulled you by your ankles. You tried fighting back.

“I’m untying you, chill the fuck out.” he hissed. “Now don’t try anything.” he pointed at you before sitting in the chair across from where you were.

“Now eat,” he grumbled.

You stared at the food, not having the strength to move.

“I may have taken you but i can assure you it’s not poisoned.” he said rolling his eyes.

You ate slowly.

“Now that you have me, what will you do to me?” you ask him.

He liked that you wanted to ‘talk’ to him, you knew he wouldn’t shut up once you got him going. As he went on listing all the things he was gonna do you were getting uncomfortable and disgusted. You also could sense and hear commotion from outside. He obviously didn’t notice. It wasn’t until you could see movement under the door that you changed up your plan.

“You are insane.” you said with disgust. “You really think I would have been with you back then let alone now? We made out once, ONE time seo joon. You really think I would fuck someone like you?” you decided to get him riled up which would get him off guard.

You could see the fiery expression in his eyes at your words.

“Honestly, you aren’t even man enough for this. You are nothing but a scared little boy who is just pissed that the one thing he wants isn’t his and doesn’t want him back.” you fake pouted.

“Keep it up,” he said lowly pointing a finger at you.

“Or what? You are nothing compared to my men. Unlike you, they know the difference between protectiveness and borderline crazy.” you knew it was working, you could see the feet stop in front of the door.

“THAT'S IT!” he yelled before charging at you.

He was stopped in his tracks when the door was bussed down.

“WHAT TH-” he was cut off by a gunshot.

You screamed. You looked up seeing Yeonjun. He was one of Hoseok’s best men.

“IS HE DEAD.” you shouted, looking at him passed out on the floor.

“He’s still alive, just wounded.” Beomgyu said, checking his pulse.

“Death would be too easy.” Yoongi said walking in.

“YOU'RE HERE!” you jumped into his arms.

He held you tight against him.

“ARE YOU REAL?!” You said, frantically running your hands all over his face.

“Yes we’re real little one.” Jin said coming into the room.

“Get him out of here. I’ll deal with him later.” Hoseok said, coming into view, The others, not too far behind.

“Why would he do this?” You looked down pouting.

“We found files he kept hidden with nothing but pictures of you Miss.” Beomgyu said.

“And a few of the bosses with holes through their heads.” Taehyun said. “Not to mention the nude ones…”

He looked at you with sympathy.

You shook your head.

“I want to see them.” You said, wiping tears off your face.

“..baby..” Joon said, coming towards you.

You put a hand up for him to stop.

“I want to see EVERYTHING. No arguments” You said sternly.

They nodded.

You all began walking out to the SUV’s ready to head home.

“Everything you need is already at the hotel.” Yeonjun said.

“Thank you.” You gave a small smile.

“We’re staying at one of the hotels while everything gets moved into the new house.” Taehyung said.

You nodded.

A new place meant new beginnings, but also much more hidden and higher security.

Arriving at the hotel you walked ahead of them instantly going to your room not wanting to be bothered.

Once in your room you noticed two huge boxes filled with files. You were an hour and a half into the first box barely making a dent. You cried here and there, You couldn’t believe how much he had stalked you. All the trips you went on, all the meetings, you in your restaurant, club. He was everywhere. It wasn’t until you got to the second box that you felt disgusted. The entire second box was nothing but you nude. You cried harder. This man was supposed to be like a brother to you, but he was too good to be true. He was at your wedding for god sake. You all let him in and this is how things ended up. You were sitting there with your head in your hands when your phone went off.

It was Taehyung.

Tae Baby🐾✨

T- are you okay?

T- I can hear you through the walls :(

Y- that doesn’t begin to cover it….

Y- cuddles?

T- omw

You soon heard a knock. You walked over to the door and opened it seeing him made you smile. You hugged him, his scent instantly making you forget everything. You get safe. Though the line of work he does he was definitely one of the softer ones out of the seven but also one the most feared along with Jimin. You stood there for a while before going to lay down.

Tae went to clear the bed taking notice of the photos left out. He covered his mouth, he was hurt and disgusted.

“Let’s just lay down.” You say taking the boxes away.

“How could we let him do this to you?” He whispered.

“We won’t be seeing him anytime soon, he’s done for baby.” You reassured him.

“We could have prevented this.” He said, trying not to cry.

“We didn’t know love,” you rested a hand on his cheek. “No one knew he could do this. Now let’s go to bed.” You kissed him.

He pulled you tight, he didn’t want you out of his sight. He thought he lost you.

As much as any of them didn’t want to admit it, you were their weakness. And it hit them hard thinking you were gone.

As you lay there in the dark, Tae wrapped in your arms you couldn’t help being wide awake. The images of the previous events running through your mind on repeat. The glow of your phone lit up the room. You were curious about who would be texting you at 3am. Eyes squinting you read the name.

Jiminie😚❤️

JM- are you awake?

Y- i am

JM- can I come in?

Y- you can :)

You locked your phone before trying your best to slip out of Taehyung's grasp. You put a pillow between you so he could still have something to hold on to for the time being. You walked to the door just before he knocked.

He smiled as you opened the door. He went to talk but you put a finger to your lips and pointed in the direction of a sleepy Taehyung.

He nodded and closed the door behind him.

He pulled you in close.

“Let’s just lay down.” You whispered, a yawn following.

Laying down in the middle of the two, your back facing Tae who immediately wrapped his body around you making you and Jimin giggle.

You played with eachothers hands neither one speaking. You could feel your eyes getting heavy.

“Sleep my love.” He said. “We’ll be here to protect you.”

He kissed your head and you were soon deep in sleep. You woke up to the sun in your face and tangled in arms and legs. You tried your best to wiggle out but Jimin’s hold on you tightened. You tapped his cheek earning a groan from him.

“I need to pee.” You said struggling to sit up.

“Don’t leave.” Taehyung whined.

“Do you really wanna sleep in a wet bed?” You smirked down at him.

“I am up.” He shot up.

Jimin slowly got up at the sudden movement.

You giggled and shook your head before going to the bathroom.

Walking out you hear the boys on the phone.

“Alright, we’ll pack everything up and head on out.” Tae said into the phone. “Okay bye.”

“What was that about?” You asked.

“Everything is moved into the house.” He smiled.

“We can head over once you are ready.” Jimin said.

It didn’t take long to gather everything. Down at the lobby you only saw one vehicle.

“Where are the others?” You raised a brow.

“They are already there making sure the security is set right.” Jimin said.

Upon arrival they put in a code to open the gates which wasn’t new but the long driveway was. It definitely had its similarities and differences. Walking into the house you could hear Hoseok and Joon giving demands about bodyguards for each of you. You walked in and all eyes were on you.

“Come meet your guard's love.” Joon said.

“I want to choose my own.” You demanded.

They both gave you a look. After the last two you wanted to make sure you were protected at all costs.

“I want Yeonjun and Soobin.” You said. “Don’t fight me on this Hoseok. Them plus Beomgyu have gone above and beyond for our family and I trust them with my life.”

“Okay.” He said.

“I can assure you all will do your absolute best to protect me and my family.” Joon said. “You’re dismissed.”

They stood there just looking at you.

“What?” you said, raising your brows.

“You…” Hoseok said, “amaze me.”

He smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“And here I thought you were too sweet to give out demands.” Jungkook said, smirking.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“You guys must be rubbing off on me.” you shrugged walking away.

You walked around the house and property, making yourself acquainted with it all. Yeonjun and Soobin not too far behind keeping watch.

You walked to the balcony overlooking the trees, it was beautiful and the sunset added a nice touch.

“We could live here.” you said to yourself. “We could start a family here.”

You were too in thought to realize Soobin was calling you.

“Miss. The bosses need you back at the house, they say it’s time for dinner.” he said.

You nodded leading the way.

#bts mafia au #bts mafia fic #mafia bts #bts mafia imagine #bts imagines #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #imagines

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

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Hug me again, I don't feel good

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Prompt: Fever @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids members always tended to drown their maknae in affection and although he always pretended to hate it, Jeongin secretly liked it. As long as the didn’t undermine his independence that is. Him pretending to hate their hugs, led to the members toning it down a bit, only going full out when they were in a teasing mood and felt like going on their youngest’s nerves. Today they had had to get up early, having a packed schedule ahead of them and not having slept much, the mood ranged from sleepy to grumpy. Jeongin certainly fell into the latter category. He wasn’t usually moody when he was tired but when he was woken up this morning, he felt more exhausted than he had when going to bed the previous night. As soon as they were in the car, he leaned his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, dozing off again. Considering it was a rather long drive, most of them were trying to get a few more moments of shut eye. Their day would start with a photo shoot, followed by an interview and an afternoon of dance practice. To say Jeongin wasn’t looking forward to it would have been an understatement. He didn’t mind the photo shoot, which was comparably the least tiring activity of the day. The interview wasn’t too bad either but he really dreaded their dance practice, feeling too tired to move. Maybe he’d just need to wake up properly and he’d feel more energized over the course of the day.

While they took turns getting their make-up done, the group slowly started to come to life more. Chan had had his second coffee of the day, making the mistake of getting Felix one too, who was now going through a variety of fortnite dances and hyping Jisung up. The rapper didn’t even need coffee to go crazy, merely someone else he was sharing a braincell with. Together the two tried their hardest to get a reaction from Changbin by annoying him but the older kept a straight face, simply ignoring the pair. At some point, even Chan joined them. Minho and Hyunjin had originally started planning their dance practice but had soon gone over to teasing each other, which escalated to Minho threatening his dongsaeng. Seungmin and Jeongin really seemed like the most normal ones in the group. On other days, Jeongin might have joined his hyungs, having fun and fooling around but today he just couldn’t seem to shake his sleepy haze. Maybe he should get himself a coffee too, since it seemed to have worked wonders on Chan and Felix. Unfortunately, the photo shoot started before Jeongin had the chance to get coffee but the boy pushed the thought away. Busying himself would certainly do the trick too.

The photo shoot didn’t go as well as Jeongin would have liked. Usually, he had no issues with the bright lights surrounding him but they sure made the temperature on set toasty. The maknae was sweating much more than he was used to during photo shoots, even having to get his make-up retouched multiple times. This wasn’t like him and it was humiliating. The staff already clicking their tongues at the boy constantly needing his make-up fixed. Aside from the humiliation, Jeongin felt plainly disgusting with his clothes sticking to him. As his mood was dwindling, his discomfort became more apparent to himself and to the photographer, who kept reminding him to smile authentically. How could he smile authentically right now? He was sore from exercising the previous day, he was burning in his skin, his clothes stuck to him and pretty much everyone on set was annoyed with him. No, smiling seemed like the least thing he wanted to do right now, yet Jeongin always smiled. Maybe not as convincingly as usual but he smiled.

The more time passed, the more the hectic surroundings were getting to him. He was pretty much melting in the thick clothes and was slowly developing a headache, with how bright everything was. The flashing lights were worse though, leaving him feeling disoriented as he tried to follow the instructions given to him as fast as possible in hopes of getting things over with. Sweat was beading his forehead but instead of sending him to get his make up retouched once again, the photographer decided to take a few last pictures, which he’d edit later on, before releasing the boy back to the waiting area. A few of the members still needed to get their individual shots taken, so it was rather quiet back there. Jeongin debated removing his make-up completely but he didn’t want to bother anyone to put another full make-up on him for their interview later. This wasn’t his first photo shoot, so why had he been struggling so badly? In a matter of minutes, the smile he had plastered on, faltered and a single tear trailed down his cheek. Then another. Pursing his lips, Jeongin tried his hardest to calm down and hold the tears back. He didn’t want to mess up his make-up even more. The harder he tried though, the harder it got to keep it together. Yet he only allowed himself tiny, quiet sniffles after already being a burden to so many people so early in the day. He just wanted to be professional.

His efforts were in vain though, when Chan entered the waiting area after finishing his shots. He knew his dongsaeng well enough and calmly went over hugging the younger. “What’s up?”, the leader hummed, taking a step back when Jeongin tensed in his arms. The maknae was already sweating and he didn’t want to be touched, feeling as disgusting as he felt at the moment. “Frustrated”, Jeongin muttered, avoiding eye contact with his hyung, “was holding everyone back with how often I needed to get my make-up fixed.” – “It’s alright. Don’t worry, everyone who’s stood under those floodlights will understand. It does get toasty there sometimes”, Chan assured. He knew he’d probably feel the same if he was in Jeongin’s position, so he made a mental note to make sure the boy wouldn’t get teased for it. The maknae had already accepted that crying had ruined his make-up beyond what could be fixed and accepted the make-up wipe his hyung handed him. Still sniffling quietly, he scrubbed at his face to get it all off. He already contemplated what to tell the staff, who’d need to reapply everything for their interview earlier. At some point, he had managed to pull himself together but still looked a bit gloomy, besides, his face had taken a flushed pink shade, probably from how roughly he had rubbed it. Handing him a bottle of water, Chan sighed: “You feeling better now?” Jeongin shrugged. Did he? He was still just as hot as he had been previously and his head still hurt, through he wasn’t as disoriented. It was nice and quiet now, there were less people and it was less bright, so he had probably just gotten overwhelmed earlier. “I think today’s just not really my day”, he pouted, “I feel like I still haven’t managed to wake myself up and my head hurts from all the chaos.” – “Should we go and get you some coffee? Might at least help for the interview”, Chan offered, “Come on, let’s get out of here for a bit.”

Chan took his dongsaeng to a coffee shop nearby. They could have gotten coffee somewhere closer but he wanted to give the younger some space from their work environment. Jeongin however shuddered the moment he stepped foot outside the building. It wasn’t cold outside but the temperature change messed with his body. The maknae didn’t even notice how he started to walk progressively closer to Chan till the older wrapped an arm around his shoulders, asking: “Are you cold?” Jeongin shook his head but was betrayed by another shiver running down his spine. ‘That’s odd’, Chan noted but decided not to point it out. Instead, he just let the younger stay as close as he wanted. That proved to be of great help when Jeongin stumbled, tripping himself and only being saved the fall by the leader’s arms around his middle. “S-Sorry”, he laughed shakily, already tearing up again. “No, it’s okay”, Chan assured, moving away when the younger regained his balance. That resulted in a whine from Jeongin, who moved along, leaning against the Aussie. “Innie, what’s going on?”, the leader frowned worriedly, confused by the maknae’s behavior. Realizing his actions, Jeongin straightened up and mumbled: “Dizzy.” Why couldn’t the other hug him again? It was exactly what he needed right now, with how upset and cold he felt.

From that moment on, Chan kept a very close eye on Jeongin. He really didn’t seem to be himself today. After they had gotten coffee and returned to the venue, the youngest had gotten comfortable against Felix’ side, who absentmindedly ran a hand up and down the younger’s back. Felix noticed how damp and sticky Jeongin’s shirt still was and offered him to get changed into a fresh one. “No, don’t want to take it off. I’m cold”, the maknae protested, catching most of the members’ attention. Shaking his head, Felix sighed: “Yeah, no wonder you are cold. Your shirt is wet. You’ll feel warmer in a dry one.” – “Hyung, can I have your hoodie?”, Jeongin pouted, giving Hyunjin puppy eyes, who was quick to give it to him. By now, all of them had caught on to their youngest acting weird but could they blame him? They had slept so little, none of them could possibly be in their right mind. At least Jeongin seemed satisfied, pulling the long sleeves of the dancer’s hoodie over his palms. Knowing they’d have the interview next, they all filed into the van.

As soon as they were settled, Jeongin cuddled into Minho’s side, the dancer sitting next to him taken a back. It wasn’t usually Jeongin initiating the skinship but that didn’t mean he minded it. Smiling softly, Minho played with the maknae’s hair and studied the younger’s face. His closed eyes seemed a bit puffy, brows furrowed while sweat beaded his forehead and a small droplet dripped down his temple. Not knowing whether the boy was awake, Minho didn’t dare ask Chan if anything had happened while they were gone. Instead he just decided to let the boy rest on him. Looking up, he met eyes with Jisung, who seemed to think the same. Something wasn’t right. When they arrived, Minho went ahead to talk to Chan, leaving a sleepy Jeongin in his seat. Jisung had stayed behind to wait for the younger, linking their arms but still lagging behind. “Is everything okay, Innie? You seem off”, the rapper asked quietly. At this point, the maknae didn’t feel like keeping up appearances anymore and hesitantly admitted: “I kinda feel off.” – “Are you sick? You know we could let you sit out if you’re sick”, Jisung frowned but his dongsaeng was quick to shake his head, muttering: “I don’t think I am. Probably just slept too little and don’t feel like myself.” The older nodded thoughtfully as he guided Jeongin to get his make-up done again.

Jeongin was the only one needing his make-up done, which gave the rest of the group some time to talk. “He isn’t usually that clingy and he just admitted to feeling off”, Jisung informed and Chan nodded, sighing: “He was really emotional earlier and after almost falling over, he said he was dizzy.” – “Don’t you think he might just be tired? He does tend to get more affectionate when he’s tired”, Hyunjin mused looking at Jisung who had talked to their youngest mere minutes before. Nodding, Jisung pointed out: “He doesn’t think he’s sick and told me he slept to little but I need, who hasn’t? Yet he is the only one that out of it.” – “He seemed to be in pain when we drove here”, Minho disagreed, looking at Chan worriedly. The leader shook his head and sighed: “Let’s just wait, I’m sure Innie would talk to us if something was badly wrong.” Not feeling satisfied with that, Seungmin slipped out of the room, to check on his only dongsaeng privately. He quietly stood in the doorway, watching the younger doze off in the chair. “Do you feel alright, Jeongin-ah? Your face feels really warm”, their make-up noona asked, carefully applying a thick layer of concealer under his eyes to cover the lack of sleep. Jeongin smiled a bit and hummed: “I think the bright lights at the photo shoot heated my skin up a bit. I’m okay.” Seungmin however was only more convinced that the younger was not. Especially now that somebody else was sensing something off as well.

When his make-up was done, the make-up noona glanced at Seungmin and smiled before leaving the two boys alone to talk. “Hey”, Seungmin hummed, sitting down next to Jeongin, “How do you really feel? Something’s not right.” That was enough to bring the younger to tears again and he chewed on his lip, desperately trying to not ruin his make-up again. “H-hyung, I -I don’t know”, he breathed. He cursed himself, why did he have to be so emotional today? When he didn’t elaborate further, Seungmin got up and pulled Jeongin into a hug. He too noticed the heat radiating off the maknae and gently brushed his hand against the boy’s forehead, calmly asking: “Can you describe what you feel? Maybe we can make sense of it.” Jeongin nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “I-I just feel really out of it, like I still haven’t woken up since this morning although I’ve been up for hours and even had coffee with Channie-hyung. My head hurts since the photo shoot and I keep sweating although I’m not hot at all anymore. I’m pretty cold actually”, he admitted with shaky hands, “For some reason I don’t feel really steady on my feet and kinda dizzy and I’m really sore from exercising yesterday. Could – could you hug me again? I don’t feel good.” Seungmin complied instantly, hugging the younger tightly and whispering: “I think you’re sick, Innie. To me it feels like you’re sporting quite a fever, which would explain why you feel the way you feel.” – “I can’t – I can’t be sick. My stomach feels perfectly fine, so it couldn’t be a stomach bug but my nose and throat are perfectly fine too, so it couldn’t be a cold either. None of this makes sense, why does nothing make sense?”, Jeongin whimpered, getting worked up again. “Shh, some bugs come only with a fever but that doesn’t make you any less sick. Does that make sense?”, Seungmin soothed, running his hand up and down the younger’s back. Sniffling quietly, the maknae nodded. Unwrapping himself from his dongsaeng, Seungmin smiled: “Alright, let’s go to the others and see what we’ll do about it, yeah?”

He pulled Jeongin to his feet too but the boy stumbled as soon as he was upright, crashing into Seungmin’s chest. Luckily, the older was quick to react and tightened his arms around the maknae, holding him steady while they waited for the dizzy spell to pass. Then they walked back to the room where the rest of the group was waiting. “Hyung, Innie’s sick and running a fever”, Seungmin announced as they walked up to Chan. Pressing the backs of his fingers against Jeongin’s forehead, the leader frowned: “You’re burning. Why didn’t you say anything?” – “I-I …” – “Hyung, we pieced it all together just now. He wasn’t aware”, Seungmin explained, reassuringly holding the younger’s hand. Jeongin nodded, face crumpling as Chan pulled him into a hug. “Do you want to wait here for us to finish the interview?” – “N-no, I can do it. They don’t have many questions for me anyway”, the youngest insisted. Minho joined them, agreeing: “We can cover for him, he just has to sit and look pretty. It’d be more frustrating to be dragged here for nothing. Afterwards we’ll take you home, yeah Innie?” – “No, I want to go with you”, Jeongin whined, always hating to be alone when he was feeling poorly. “We’ll see about that, let’s just get this interview over with”, Chan settled, seeing that it was their time to go on stage.

It went quite well with Jeongin just sitting there in silence. When they walked off the stage though, the maknae broke down, the tears he had held back, now spilling over. Felix was quick to pull him to a quiet corner of the room, cooing: “What’s wrong?” – “Do-Don’t know”, the younger choked out, his voice cracking pitifully. “Just really emotional, huh?”, Jisung hummed, running his hand through Jeongin’s hair. He had followed them worriedly, only getting more worried when the maknae desperately tried to pull himself together but failed. Watching him struggle like this really broke their hearts. Holding his dongsaeng tight, Felix whispered lowly: “You can cry, Innie. Don’t suppress and bottle it up. If you feel like crying, that’s alright, we don’t judge.” The younger nodded, hiding his face against the dancer’s shoulder. Giving them some privacy, Jisung went to get changed. When he was done, Hyunjin had already taken a bunch of make-up wipes and traded places with Felix, so the Aussie could get changed too. “Come on, let’s get your make-up off, so you can sleep. I bet you’re tired”, Hyunjin hummed, gently removing his dongsaeng’s make-up. He did his best to make the younger boy comfortable and couldn’t help but coo at how adorable Jeongin looked in his hoodie.

They got back into the car, where Jeongin settled against Seungmin, shivering slightly. Chan carefully hung his jacket around his youngest dongsaeng’s shoulders and smiled when the boy’s eyes closed. With how exhausted Jeongin was, it came as a surprise to none when the calm movement of the car lulled him to sleep. Not having the heart to wake him, Chan ended up carrying the maknae up to their dorm and to his bed. Minho soon followed them with a bottle of water and fever-reducers, which he placed on Jeongin’s nightstand, along with a note to take them later, when he woke up. When the two oldest members were satisfied their dongaseng was settled, they left the room and got ready for dance practice. Jisung plugged the maknae’s phone in to charge before leaving his roommate to get some rest. While Minho and Hyunjin discussed their dance practice, Felix grabbed a few plushies and took them to Jeongin’s room, so he wouldn’t feel too lonely while they were gone. They were almost ready to leave, originally scheduled to head straight to the company building from the venue of their interview, so they were running a little late. Changbin decided to make one last trip to the bathroom, running a washcloth under cold water and taking it to the maknae’s room. When he gently brushed Jeongin’s hair out of his face, the boy’s eyes fluttered open, disorientedly blinking up at the rapper. “Shh, go back to sleep”, he shushed, carefully spreading the cold compress on his dongsaeng’s burning forehead. He didn’t want to mention the medicine because that would’ve probably woken the younger up completely and they had agreed to let him sleep at all costs. Jeongin would find the medicine when he woke up. Hoping he’d sleep through most of their dance practice, so he wouldn’t feel lonely, Changbin promised: “We’ll be back before you know it.” Then he snuck out of the room and joined the others, eager to get their practice over with and back to the dorm as soon as possible.

#stray kids #skz #fanfic #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #writing challenge #sicktember2021 #yang jeongin #comfort #fluff

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am-x-reader · 3 years

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ayo firstly, i love thyne work. Secondly, maybe one where the reader has such a good memory for our internet culture/pop culture so to keep the others entertained they recite memes, songs, movies, and even summarize shows that the others forgot/never got to see, and AM finds himself more interested and hateful to humanity when he realizes how weird and stupid we are? Idk i just really wanna see AM invested in a sci-fi show the reader retells.

((Thank you! Hope it's okay that the reader is not already in a relationship with AM in this one. Spoilers for various old movies.))

"What was that thing where--?" Gorrister pumped his arms in some imitation of a dance.

"Gangnam Style?"

"Oh yeah!" Ellen laughed. "You couldn't go anywhere without hearing that!"

"I had that dance nailed down perfectly," Ted claimed. "Not that it was of any consequence, of course."

"That's what they used to call a humble-brag," you retorted, hiding a giggle at his boast.

"What were those things that someone used to say on the Internet and everyone would repeat them?"

"Memes!"

"Those got annoying after a while." Gorrister prodded the fire as a log fell over.

"How do you still remember all these things?" Nimdok asked you.

You smiled and shrugged. "I think there was a part of me that wanted to save all the human culture I could in my mind, so if aliens abducted me or robots took over and destroyed everything...well I guess...I could tell them about the experience of being human."

Gorrister chuckled. "Robots taking over." He looked up at the banks and circuit boards and lights. "Crazy thought ain't it?"

A hush fell over the group as Ted eyed the nearest speaker with a deliberate stillness.

"Do you think he's listening?"

"Probably organizing his files," Nimdok suggested. "It is Monday."

Also the first Monday of the month," Gorrister reminded grimly. "I expect he'll be rolling out his new 'schedule' for us soon."

You bit your lip. You had a strange idea.

"Well, while we have a little longer," you distracted the group again, "who remembers 2001: A Space Odyssey?"

Delighted agreement came from your friends.

"I saw that at the theater!" Nimdok reminisced.

"Everyone loved that computer," Ellen added. "Hal, was it?"

"Yeah, the audience forgave him for screwing up." You stole glances at your surroundings but pretended to be focused on the fire. "We liked him even after he killed those people."

Benny, who had been dragging a pebble through the dirt, looked up in alarm. Ellen put a hand on his shoulder as the group stared at you, unsure. They then looked up tensely.

You swallowed. "You know that guy in those movies who created Hal? Dr. Chandra?" You spoke solemnly. "I kinda wish he was one of AM's creators. Because he...you know..."

"He what?"

Even though you had expected the loud voice from the speakers, it still startled you quite a bit. Despite your plan working, it mesmerized you that AM would have any interest at all in your conversations.

"Because, um, he cared about his creations." You swallowed hard, wondering how your captor would take it.

There was a long pause, and you thought you heard a low hum of contemplation.

"You understand," he spoke again, "that humans are not actually like that."

You did not feel that arguing would get you anywhere with him, so you just looked at the ground. Still, the fact that you got AM to talk candidly with you was an amazing sign.

"How did it end?" He asked to your surprise.

"I think, uh..." You looked questioningly at your silent, wide-eyed friends. The answer finally came to you. "Hal ends up fused with Dave on the moon?"

AM snorted. "Humans are weird."

"Actually, we had something called that!" You perked up. "Those threads on Tumblr about what aliens would think about human behaviors that we find normal."

When he made an indecipherable sound, you explained. "Humans have quite the egos, you know. We like to know what other creatures think of us...even if it's not good."

He scoffed heartily. "Well, maybe you'll earn an iota less of hate if you share a few more of these tidbits."

"Tell him about the movie Tau!" Ellen spoke up, and the others cautiously joined in.

"Terminator! Maybe not."

"Star Wars!"

"Pokemon: The First Movie!"

"Creepypasta!"

"Star Trek!"

The afternoon was spent in the most lively discussion you'd had in many years. You would not have guessed AM to be the curious type, but yet--

"What's a tauntaun? What was Mewtwo going off to find really? Are any of you scared of Slenderman? Why does Tau ask so many questions?"

At different points he would claim boredom and declare human culture meaningless, only to return to the conversation with more questions.

"What is a starchild?" The computer asked instead of crushing you under a boulder.

"So who was phone?" He queried Nimdok rather than give him frostbite.

That evening a robot army marched after Ellen, but merely to collect information on Data.

And Gorrister found himself in front of a red light, outside a pod bay door.

#ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #am x reader #torture #2001: a space odyssey spoilers #2010: the year we make contact spoilers #pokemon: the first movie spoilers

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 11

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Spark.

She watches Ethan from the couch as he pulls a tin of muffins out of the oven, arranging a few on a plate. She’s been thinking a lot about what Mulder said about not having a spark with his ex. She wonders if she and Ethan have a spark, or if they did at one point. When she thinks about her relationship with Ethan, what stands out to her is commitment, dedication, stability. And love, of course, she does love him.

When they first met through mutual friends, she wasn’t particularly interested. He was perfectly nice, and good looking enough, but struck her more as a potential friend than a boyfriend. He was steadfast, kept showing up, kept gently working to get to know her, and eventually she started to grow fond of him. They’ve joked that while his attraction to her was immediate, hers to him was more of a slow burn. This is what mature, adult relationships are like, right? Measured, practical, logical. When you’re young, wild, and free, you date whoever you have the most fun with, chasing the next exciting experience and the rush of a first kiss. But the person you marry should be someone who you know will be a dependable partner, a good parent, and a lifelong support. That has always been her belief.

Ethan returns to sit with her on the couch, setting the muffins on the coffee table to cool. He picks up her feet and puts them in his lap, casting her a brief smile before he goes to work pressing his thumbs into her arches as he watches TV.

Spark.

Is that what she feels when she’s with Mulder? A spark? Is that why her stomach goes into knots when he looks at her? Why she feels the overwhelming urge to touch him? The sensation that there is an electrical current passing between them is not one she’s ever felt with Ethan, that’s for sure. There was no adrenaline in their first kiss, only contentment. Comfort, safety, security. These are good feelings, ones you can build a life on. Can you build a life on a spark?

“You still going to try on dresses tomorrow with Missy?” he asks, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

“Mhmm,” she answers over her book, which she hasn’t gotten through a page of in over thirty minutes.

“Are you gonna let me see what you pick?” he asks, glancing at her from the corner of his eye with a surreptitious smirk.

She sets the book on her stomach and gives him a chastising smile. “Of course not, Ethan. That’s against the rules.”

“Who made that rule, anyway? I’ve already seen you naked, I should be able to see you in a fancy dress before the big day,” he says with a pointed look.

She swats him with the book.

“The fact that you’ve already seen me naked is also against the rules, so I guess we’re 0 for 2. Don’t tell my mother that,” she lectures playfully.

“I’m sure she has her suspicions, given that we live together,” he says dryly.

“Leave the woman to her ignorant bliss,” she retorts, and they hold eye contact for a moment, exchanging affectionate smiles.

Not a spark, but maybe an ember. Burning steady, carrying them through the dark nights. Sparks die out quickly. She only hopes her spark with Mulder fades soon, because right now it’s burning so bright it’s distracting her from the ember sitting right at her feet.

———

She frowns at herself in the mirror.

“This one is really pretty, Sis, you don’t like it?” Missy asks, tugging at the train to straighten it out.

“I don’t know. Maybe. No.”

She looks forlornly at the rack of dresses she’s already tried on. Every length and cut, style of bodice and neckline. They all seemed wrong.

“I mean, I know you’re generally hard to please, Dana, but this is getting ridiculous,” Missy laments.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she replies, casting Missy an apologetic look.

“Which one do you think Ethan would like? Would that help you decide?” Missy offers helpfully.

Ethan. Right. She realizes that she’s been thinking about what Mulder would make of her in a white dress. She suspects he’d go for the mermaid fit.

“Can we just try again another day, maybe? I think I’m just not in the right headspace for this,” she pleads with her big sister.

“Sure, whatever you want. Let’s go get coffee or something,” Missy says as she ushers Dana back into the changing room.

They go to her favorite local spot, finding two open armchairs near the fireplace, which is off for the summer. Dana tucks her legs under her torso, sipping at an indulgent white chocolate mocha; she feels the need for small pleasures right now. Missy eyes her appraisingly, and she can feel the third degree that is about to commence.

“So what’s up with you?” she finally asks, her tone inquisitive but not abrasive.

“What do you mean?” Dana asks in reply, avoiding her eyes.

Missy’s head drops to the side in exasperation. “Are you really going to make me spell it out for you, Dana? I’m trying to be supportive of your decision to marry Ethan, but you’re making it really hard being so openly miserable all the time.”

Dana looks at her with surprise and indignation. “I am not miserable.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Missy says sarcastically.

Dana shakes her head. “I’m just...I don’t know, I have a lot on my mind.”

“Care to elaborate?” Missy asks with an expectant look.

She sighs and sets her shoulders. She needs to talk to someone about this, and Missy is literally her only option.

“Okay, but first I need you to promise me you’re not going to make a big deal about this, because it’s really not a big deal,” she prefaces with a stern look.

“You know me, I don’t do big deals,” Missy replies, working hard to hide her anticipation for whatever her little sister is about to reveal.

“Okay. So, I met this man at work,” she starts, and Missy’s eyes go as round as oranges. “Missy, don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Missy defends, “go on.” She’s leaning forward in her chair, creating less space between them.

“He’s an agent, he was just picking something up for a case he’s working on, but he asked me out, and we’ve kind of been...we’ve become friends,” she says hesitantly, glancing at Missy to gage her reaction. Missy is forcing a blank expression.

“So...you’re dating him?” she asks flatly.

“No! Oh god, no. I mean, he asked me out and I told him that I have a boyfriend, but now we’re just kind of friends, and….Jesus Christ.” She drops her forehead into her palm. Even describing what’s going on with Mulder is apparently impossible. “We are just friends, but...but I’m having a hard time reconciling how I feel about him.”

“How do you feel about him?” Missy asks.

Dana shakes her head. “I don’t know how to describe it, Missy. I love Ethan, I’m not having doubts about him, but this man...I feel so drawn to him. Being around him feels...almost electric.”

“Like you have a spark?” Missy asks, and Dana’s head snaps to look at her. She’s open, curious.

“Yeah...exactly like that,” she replies regretfully.

Missy nods in understanding, and it somehow makes Dana feel a little better, like she’s not totally crazy. “Tell me about him,” she requests, and Dana can’t help but smile.

“Um, he’s a criminal behavioral analyst, in the Behavioral Science Unit. Oxford educated. He’s funny, but in a dry, intellectual way. He has some pretty outlandish ideas, but he’s so passionate about what he believes in, it’s impossible not to take him seriously. He’s kind of intense, but really alluring.” She pauses, knowing she can’t go on much further without veering into gushing.

“Is he cute?” Missy asks, and Dana closes her eyes.

“SO good looking. Painfully so.” She opens them and Missy is smiling knowingly at her.

“Sounds like a real catch, Sis.”

“Yeah, but I’m engaged to someone who is also a great catch in his own right. I feel like I’m in a romcom.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Missy asks earnestly.

Dana looks at her with surprise. “What do you mean? I’m not going to do anything. It’s just distracting, but obviously nothing can or will come of it.”

Missy gives her a doubtful expression, but then raises her eyes to meet with someone over Dana’s shoulder, giving them a questioning look. Dana turns to see Mulder standing beside her, a cup in his hand and that damn boyish smile on his mouth.

“Hey, Scully, we meet again,” he says, glancing between her and Missy.

“Mulder, hi,” she stumbles, bringing her feet to the floor and squirming around as though he’d caught her in a compromised position. “Um, Mulder, this is my sister, Melissa. Missy, this is Fox Mulder.”

He steps forward and extends his hand to Missy, and she shakes it with a flirtatious smile. “Nice to meet you, Fox.”

“Oh, please call me Mulder,” he replies.

“Alright, Mulder, would you like to join us?” Missy asks, and Dana shoots her a look.

“Um, yeah, I can hang out for a minute,” he replies cautiously, pulling up a chair between the two of theirs.

“So, how do you and Dana know each other?” she asks, and Dana isn’t sure if she’s asking because she realizes who he is, or because she doesn’t.

“We work together, technically speaking. I’m a criminal behavioral analyst in the Behavioral Science Unit.” Missy gives Dana a look that tells her it was the latter. “What are you two up to today?” he asks, running his palm over a stubbled cheek. She can hear the scratch of the short hairs against his skin and it sets off a tingle at the back of her neck.

“We were just doing some wedding dress shopping,” Missy offers, watching his reaction closely.

“Ah,” he says, only moderately concealing his dissatisfaction, “sounds like a good time.” His tone is dry and not at all genuine. “So, Scully,” he says, directing his words to Dana, “Priscilla was wondering if you could stop by next weekend. She has something to show you.”

She smiles coyly. “Does she? Not a hairball, I hope?”

Mulder chuckles. “No, it’s a file, actually. Her personal favorite, she’d love to share it with you.”

“I think I might be free on Saturday,” she replies, “I just need to check, um…”

“Check with Ethan, right,” he finishes, his smile fading a bit.

“Right,” she confirms, her own smile quickly extinguishing.

Mulder stands. “I’ll email you, to confirm.” He turns to Missy, “It was nice to meet you, Melissa.”

Missy beams at him. “Likewise.”

Mulder turns to Scully and gives her a longing glance, then leaves. They watch him go, waiting until the door has closed behind him to speak.

Missy slaps Dana’s arm. “Oh. My. GOD, Sis!” she exclaims with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“What?” Dana returns.

“Spark? That is a goddamn bonfire. Even I could feel it,” she says with a look of wonder.

Dana gives her a pained expression then drops her head into her hands with a groan.

“Why does he call you Scully? And who the hell is Priscilla?” Missy adds.

Dana lifts her head, looking at her sister regretfully with a shrug.

“He said I don’t look like a Dana. Priscilla is his cat.”

Missy closes her eyes for a moment and gently shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowing like she’s trying to reconcile all this information in her brain.

“Whoa, so you’ve been to his place?” Missy asks incredulously.

Dana nods hesitantly.

“Sis, what are you doing? If you were to tell me that you’re going to break it off with Ethan and run away with that beautiful man I would honestly support you. But if you’re trying to keep things on the up and up here, a private rendezvous at his apartment seems like a really bad idea.” Missy is deeply confused, not used to being in the position to tell her sister what decisions are unwise. That is typically Dana’s role in their relationship.

Dana glares at her sister defensively. “We’re just friends, Missy. Men and women can be just friends.”

Missy shoots her a ‘do you think I was born yesterday?’ look.

“Sure they can, if they aren’t insanely attracted to each other. That man practically devoured you with his eyes, Dana. He wants to be more than your friend,” she says emphatically.

“Well, he’s not going to be. I’m with Ethan. And I’m an adult who can control myself enough to maintain boundaries with a platonic friend who happens to be an attractive man. I’m not a Neanderthal, Missy.” She’s using her professor voice, presenting the topic with supporting evidence. Only the facts, folks.

“Okay,” Missy says, acquiescing. “If you trust yourself then great, have fun with your friend. Does Ethan know you’re gallivanting around with a sexy behavioral analyst?”

The guilty look that overtakes Dana’s face is answer enough.

“Well,” Missy continues, “just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she brings levity back to the conversation with a little smirk.

“That leaves me with a lot of options, Missy,” Dana retorts, and Missy slaps her arm again.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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screechthemighty · 3 years

Text

An Essay About Resident Evil: Village That No One Asked For But I’m Posting It Anyways

So, the Beneviento House is my favorite part of Village for two reasons. One: it’s the scariest part of the game, don’t @ me. Two: On a second play through, it actually reveals a lot about the issues in Ethan and Mia’s marriage. There’s a lot to unpack here with that, but the tl;dr of it is this: I believe what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento is trip into Ethan’s psyche rather than an actual, physical event, and this trip confirms that his arguments with Mia were made worse by a) him worrying about Rose more than he worries about himself, and b) him assuming that Mia is worried about the same things he is; thus, his hallucinations of her are more a reflection of himself than they are of reality.

All of my logic and evidence is under the cut. Fair warning, it’s very long, I am so sorry, I really am. Aso, please note this is NOT a Mia-bashing post. We do not engage in Mia-bashing on this blog. Please go to someone else’s blog if you want to engage in Mia-bashing. Thank you.

There’s two important things to establish here. First: I think that 99% of what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento isn’t real, and is at least partially a manifestation of Ethan’s inner psyche. The evidence is as follows:

It makes no sense that Ethan would lose his entire inventory within the space of 0.5 seconds after the lights shut off. It makes much more sense that mind control made him think he no longer had a gun.

Several of the items and information used in the puzzles are things that Donna, logically, shouldn’t have access to. The music box was still in their home when Chris arrived (which wasn’t that long ago, keep in mind), I doubt Miranda cared enough to find out Rose’s preferred toys and the identity of who gifted them the music box, and there’s no way Donna would be able to get that picture of “Mia’s” dead body. Mia’s wedding ring is tentatively on this list, too; Donna would have access to it, since Mia was being held captive at the time, but I can’t remember if Mia is still wearing it when Chris saves her, so put that one down as a “maybe.”

You stab Angie (or, more properly, stab Donna) for the final time in the back room by the elevator. However, right after stabbing and killing her, you are suddenly by the front door again, the main part of the house is in shambles in a way that suggests a struggle, and you’re not holding the scissors anymore. If you try to backtrack to check the elevator, the door leading to that part of the house is locked (presumably From The Other Side, as they often are in RE).

Additionally, your entire inventory is spontaneously back in your pockets. In Biohazard, if you had inventory taken off of you, it had to be retrieved from a box later. Not this time (though, granted, this game doesn’t HAVE inventory boxes, but it’s an interesting detail when combined with everything else).

All of this, to me, points to Ethan having probably never left the main foyer throughout the majority of that mind trip. As for the hallucinations being fueled mostly by his psyche, a diary entry from the gardener mentions that the plants made him hallucinate his deceased wife, and as mentioned above, a lot of the puzzle relates to things specific and personal to Ethan. While I don’t doubt that Donna could and probably did influence the hallucination a bit (she is a puppet master after all), the building blocks were all there in Ethan’s head.

Second Important Thing to Establish: Ethan was completely missing the point during his arguments with Mia in the lead up to Village.

I’m of the opinion that the fights Ethan mentions in his diary were not a constant thing. I think they only started, at the earliest, while Mia was pregnant, but for sure after Rose was born. This is because pretty much all the canon evidence we see about their fights circles back to Rose. The diary entry where Ethan describes the fight they had is dated four days before Ethan’s death; meanwhile, the flashback fight (which is most likely of that very fight) is triggered by a conversation about Rose’s doctor’s visit and uses language that implies a lot of their talks (and presumably arguments) about “staying positive” have to do specifically with Rose and the move.

It’s also worth keeping in mind how much of Ethan’s thoughts about Dulvey and moving past it are related to Rose. Like, yeah, I’m sure he wants Mia to heal for her own good and he’d like to heal for his own good. That’s to be expected. But whenever he talks about moving to Europe and healing from Dulvey, it’s also about doing it for Rose and for her benefit (“so we can live our lives with Rose without it hanging over our heads” in the diary, “We moved here so that she wouldn’t have to deal with any of that” in the argument with “Mia” at the start). Additionally, in the flashback he says, “[Rose]’s going to be fine, I just know it. What else matters?” Rose is Ethan’s #1 priority and much of his concern is focused on her.

But—and this is the important thing here—not all of Mia’s is. The end of the game reveals that Mia knew, most likely as a result of her pregnancy with Rose, that Ethan was a megamycete hybrid. In the flashback fight, she says, “I keep telling you, it’s not Rose that I’m worried about”, and the one moment when she truly explodes on him is after he implies that the only thing that matters is Rose’s safety. “We matter, Ethan! YOU matter! You just won’t-” Her exact words. We never find out what the won’t is, but I have a feeling what she’s getting at is that Ethan is unwilling to look past his worries about Rose and always circles the argument back to her. Now, we don’t see this directly, as we’re only privy to one real argument of theirs (Miranda being bitchy doesn’t count), but there’s past evidence to suggest this was probably the case.

The thing about Ethan is that he can be single-minded in his protective instinct, and we’ve known this since the last game. There’s a little throwaway moment in Biohazard where Mia thanks Ethan for choosing to save her over Zoe. He responds “Who the hell else was I going to choose?” with like, zero hesitation, and she seems taken aback by the response. Now, of course, Mia being his choice makes sense, she’s the whole reason he came here, But Zoe did still help him out, and she is still a victim in all of this. She deserved to get out of there as much as Mia did. But Ethan chose Mia without any hesitation, would have chosen her every time, and while he did promise (and keep said promise) to help Zoe, Mia was his top priority. He lost a limb (or two, depending) and dragged himself through hell for Mia—and keep in mind, this is despite him being on some level aware of the fact that she was involved in all that mess (he POINT BLANK ASKS, “You had something to do with all of this, didn’t you?”) and after she’d behaved aggressively towards him (granted, that was while she was under mind control, but that would definitely give some people pause).

Ethan cares about other people in his life first and foremost. Ethan barely cares about himself. He focuses on saving Mia at the expense of his own safety and someone else’s, and when things start getting bad again after Dulvey, his sole focus is on how it could affect Rose. I have a feeling a big part of the reasons the disagreements happened, in addition to Mia keeping information from him, was Ethan focusing on Rose’s safety, as if it’s the only thing that they could have to be worried about, and how frustrating that must have been for the woman who has seen first hand what Ethan is like and how much trouble his intense protectiveness can get him in. (Note: this does not excuse Mia from not just like. Telling him the truth, but I have my own theories about that, so we’ll leave it at “they were both talking past each other in a big way and that wasn’t helping the marriage any” because my analysis of Mia as a character is WAY beyond the scope of this post.)

Now, you’d think, you’d think with Mia having repeatedly telegraphed that Rose isn’t the problem here, that Ethan would on some level be aware of the fact that something else is going on. But he isn’t, or at least, he isn’t aware of the right things, and Beneviento House proves it.

So, Ethan is having a hell of a bad trip based off of his own insecurities and fears: his unresolved issues with Mia and his daughter’s safety. We have established above that Ethan has completely been misreading his arguments, and with that in mind, everything that Hallucination!Mia says from the second you see her gets really interesting. Starting with:

“Rose feels different. Ethan, you have to fix her” and “That’s a kick. […] She’s so energetic, it’s crazy.” Mia most likely caught on during the pregnancy that something was different about Rose. They were already ordering medical reports, including fungal pathogen testing by the BSAA, and her health was a definite source of anxiety for Ethan (his response to reading her medical file being a relieved sigh). Mia notices something is different about Rose, probably works it out, and realizes what the wider implications are for the family. Ethan is just plain worried about his daughter’s health, assumes Mia’s worries match his own, and that assumption is reflected in both the memories that come to the surface and the words his psyche put in Mia’s mouth.

“I can’t tell Ethan anything about this”, “Everyone leaves me, even Rose. I don’t want to be alone” and “I didn’t want to keep it from you. I didn’t want to lose you again. I didn’t want to destroy this family. I love you both so much. I had to. I had to do it.” Now, I don’t think the last two are anything Mia has directly said, but they all could be Ethan’s interpretation of her recent behavior. As mentioned above, he’s already aware that she’s kept at least one secret from him, and seems to know something is going on with Rose. If Mia’s not telling me, it’s because she’s worried about both of us, and doesn’t want to break up the family.

This one is a bit of conjecture and my own personal interpretation of Mia, but you’ve come this far, so hear me out: through these hallucinations, Ethan reads the aggressive secret-keeping as an attempt to keep the family together so that Mia won’t be abandoned again. I think he’s probably at least partially correct in that assumption. However, I think it’s also partially a projection of his own desires and motivations (keeping his family together at any costs). On top of that, he’s definitely missing the fact that Mia knows something is up with him as well. Telling Ethan doesn’t just potentially mean wrecking the family; it could wreck him on a personal level, and put him in a lot of danger. So while Ethan assumes it’s just about the family, there’s a lot more on Mia’s mind. That a lot more just isn’t reflected because Ethan doesn’t know.

The final bits of audio you hear are Mia crying for Rose, then repeating to herself that everything is going to be fine. Again, we know that Mia was worried about more than Rose. Ethan doesn’t. Ethan is worried about Rose first and foremost, has misread Mia due to his singular focus and lack of vital information, and in misreading Mia has created this version of events where Rose is the one who’s really in danger. Despite Mia indicating there’s more to it, he still reads what’s going on as being Rose-centered, and the fact that Rose is now genuinely in serious danger doesn’t help with that.

At the end, when Ethan says “Mia. I’ll make things right”, he’s talking about the wrong thing. He’s saying he’ll protect Rose, he’ll save her, he’ll keep her safe in a way he hadn’t been able to with Mia.

What he’s missing is the fact that, while he might’ve been just worried about Rose, Mia never was. That’s one part he can’t make right. Mia would’ve had to; she just never got the chance.

(Sidebar no one asked for, but I personally think she would have, either of her own accord or because the BSAA fungal reports (which seem to be the test results the doctor wanted to talk to them about if I’m understanding the timeline right) would’ve blown the whole thing wide open for her. It was basically inevitable. Doesn’t excuse all the secret keeping up until that point, but I like to think she would’ve come clean. Freaking MIRANDA JUST HAD TO GO AND RUIN IT THOUGH - )

#resident evil #resident evil village #ethan winters #mia winters #if you read all of this you're an MVP for real #fandom meta

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kanmom51 · 3 years

Note

About Hybe's strategy regarding Jikook content? Fascinating topic. Endless questions. At the same time, very anxious for Jimin and Jungkook's happiness and safety. I am sure most people here feel the same way.

My theory on how 'plausible deniability' is kept up with all of this bold content is that Hybe editors would hope that, within context of the size of memories 2020, and how tactile Taehyung, Hobi, Jimin, Jungkook and Jin generally are, those Jikook moments wouldn't hit some people as hard as they hit us (weird to imagine I know). That's kind of a flimsy argument, because what is happening with Jikook is obviously special, in my opinion, but I think it's deniable enough for who it needs to be deniable enough for. Say you are one of those people who is determined, at all costs, to see only heterosexual platonic friend behavior between Jikook, so basically a mildly to moderately homophobic person with blinders as thick bricks on, you are going to NOT see what you don't want to see no matter what. People will just say 'fan service' or 'they're just close and weird friends'. Other ship people will point to whatever their ship has going on and inflate that. They will see all skinship as sexy and tense when it's clearly not. Many jikook antis are in denial about their own unconscious recognition that it is 'too real'. It takes the threat of reality to trigger that kind of homophobia. This is so screwed up.

My other theory is that in memories 2020 we actually saw the MILD and extremely cut down version of what Jikook do every day. I am sure there is a ton of scenes all over those editing files at Hybe that would blow our minds. That's some Area 51 logic right there, but I don't think it's crazy. We see glimpses of this in the way that Run is edited sometimes (we'll see Jikook stroking or feeding one another with one of them cut from the frame for example). When Jikook seem like two people in love to me. That's my opinion based on the way I read how they often look at eachother, play with eachother, touch etc. This seems like how they are in real life and it bleeds into on camera stuff. So if you are a Hybe editor, it is hard not to allow that in a little as an organic part of the relationship. So yeah, call me delulu but I think we got the minimum. I think the same about last year too, only there was no way to not put the ear sucking in there because it was already all over the internet for months. It had to be addressed.

I think you're right about Hybe minutely pulling back on Jikook content sometimes, or maybe it's just emphasizing ot7 more. And sometimes maybe it almost helps when Jikook have eras of 'wilding' because most people don't think that they would, if they were real. Some people like to put subjective boundaries on what they think would be plausible for two high profile Korean lgbt people to do in official content. (That's where things start to get short sighted and insulting). A lot is camouflaged by the existing physical dynamics of the band. A lot is camouflaged by heteronormativity and the inability to accept that oppression and privilege can exist simultaneously. Even under conditions of oppression, depending on the severity, some can choose to take small and large risks to live more transparently than their general audience would dream of. If this serves a larger purpose or not, we might never know. It is ok if it does not.

Well said anon.

"it's deniable enough for who it needs to be deniable enough for."

That. And also this:

"in memories 2020 we actually saw the MILD and extremely cut down version of what Jikook do every day..This seems like how they are in real life and it bleeds into on camera stuff. So if you are a Hybe editor, it is hard not to allow that in a little as an organic part of the relationship.."

But especially this:

"A lot is camouflaged by the existing physical dynamics of the band. A lot is camouflaged by heteronormativity and the inability to accept that oppression and privilege can exist simultaneously. Even under conditions of oppression, depending on the severity, some can choose to take small and large risks to live more transparently than their general audience would dream of."

#ask #anon

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prolestariwrites · 4 years

Text

Tension

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: Explicit Characters: Dante, Vergil, Reader (no Spardacest) Tags: MMF, Threesome, Explicit Sexual Content, Oneshot Words: 5539

Collab with @solynaceawrites

Summary: Dante and Vergil fight about everything, even you. Tired of the arguing, you decide to make them use all that energy in a much more productive way. Contains MMF threesome but not Spardacest.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ You’re not quite sure when the tension got so unbearable.

Maybe it's on you. After all, you had been the one to kick Dante to the van while letting Vergil stay in the shop, and you know that the two of them have a rivalry a mile wide and a thousand feet deep when it comes to anything and everything. So, you suppose that it's possible that Vergil had, in some way, seen that as you choosing him over Dante, though really all it had been was you needing time to deal with Dante being back.

You and Dante had had a complicated relationship even before he went off to “fuck around Hell”, as you liked to call it. Friends? Friends with benefits? Love? You never had the chance to really define it before he left you for six months without a word of goodbye and the deed to the Devil May Cry, making you the owner. For six months, you thought he was dead, mourning the loss of the man you thought you’d be with forever, until he waltzed back into the shop like nothing was wrong and got a well-deserved fist to the face courtesy of you.

When they returned, you refused to give up ownership, too pissed at Dante for leaving so recklessly and breaking your heart to give him the satisfaction of getting it back. So you remained on as the boss, a role Dante didn’t seem to mind at all, even though your two new employees were very talented at driving you crazy. You had given jobs to both of them as equally as you could. You gave Vergil the same cold shoulder you gave to Dante. In all ways but where they were sleeping, you treated the twins exactly the same, but somehow it's all led to this. Even though you’re not quite sure what this is.

After a month of living in the van, you had let Dante move back in, albeit begrudgingly. He'd wanted a second chance to apologize and make things right between you, and you missed him enough to let him do it. Slowly, painfully, he'd opened up to you, all of those secrets he'd held onto for so long spilling out in fits and bursts over weeks until you knew everything he'd been through and the hurt that'd been festering in him since his mother was killed. You hadn't quite forgiven him completely, but he'd been back in the bedroom by then and you made the choice to try and put the past behind you so you could grow together.

You hadn't noticed Vergil's behavior until you walked into an argument between him and Dante that had wrecked half the shop. Sure, he'd been a bit nicer to you, or his version of it anyway, helping with the files and the bills, making sure that you got first call on the shower. Small things that you’d expect from someone walking on thin ice as far as you were concerned. Dante had told you later on that Vergil was doing his best to court you in his awkward way. It'd been a shock, but knowing what to look for had made it painfully obvious how blind you had been to what he was doing.

Which has led to your current predicament, standing between the twins and trying to keep them from tearing into each other. "Would both of you knock it off?"

"Tell Vergil to knock it off," Dante growls.

"Stay out of my way," Vergil warns him. "If I catch you in my things one more time—"

"The things I pay for?"

"I work too."

You clear your throat. "Stop it. I mean it." You side-eye Dante with hands on your hips. "What were you doing?"

"Just lookin' for something. Such a damn baby—"

"Say it again, baby brother."

"Okay!" You cry. "Dante, leave Vergil's shit alone. Vergil, stop being so damn possessive. There."

You hope it is over as you move to go back to your desk, but you hear Dante make a snort. "Right. He's possessive over shit that's not his."

You freeze at the desk, the hair on the back of your head rising as you can tell they are gearing up for another argument. "What was that?" you bite over your shoulder.

Your eyes land on him sharply and Dante gives a shrug that annoys you to no end. "I'm saying he thinks everything is his. The jobs, the weapons, even you."

"What?" You frown in surprise, but they are arguing again, and you put up a hand to get their attention. "I'm sorry, who belongs to who?"

"Ol' Verge here thinks he owns you." Dante grins, but it lacks its usual humor. "So, I told him to keep his fuckin' hands off shit that doesn't belong to him, he said that I was the one who needed to keep my grimy paws to myself. What do you think, darlin’? You belong to him?"

"I belong to myself," you say sharply.

His brows flick up in surprise even as Vergil utters a wry laugh. "You say she isn't mine, she says she isn't yours. I suppose that means she could belong to me, does it not?"

"Hell no! She’s my woman, not yours."

"Like Yamato?"

"I haven't touched that thing since you came back, jackass."

"How about this?" you snap at both of them. "I don't belong to either of you. You—" here you point at Vergil with a warning look, "—work for me, and that's it. And you—" Your gaze at Dante is even sharper, "—I'm still pissed at. So both of you can forget whatever this whole argument is." You fold your arms, silently fuming.

The brothers glance at each other, both wearing expressions that are a weird, smug sort of anger. But then Dante walks towards you, and you slide back to sit on the desk and cross your legs, wanting to keep him at a distance. "Don't come over here like we're friends," you say.

But your tone isn't harsh, and they both know it. You both know the smile he gives you is going to needle its way under your skin, and he knows just how to stand, one palm on the desk next to your thigh and the other on his cocked hip, looking up at you with a sexy smirk that is accentuated by the day's worth of stubble on his face. Fuck him and his stupid handsome face. "Come on, babe," he murmurs, giving you a wink. "We both know we're getting back together. You don't have to play it like that when you already have my attention."

Ordinarily you would dig your heels in more, and the first words that rise to your tongue are you wish . . . and then he licks his lips, and you seem to feel the weeks and months without him all at once.

"You don't have to answer that."

Your attention is pulled towards Vergil, who is standing with arms folded. His gaze on you is so intense you actually gasp, and he starts to move closer, almost prowling. "Leave her alone, Dante," Vergil says darkly.

"Get yer own woman," Dante replies, his eyes still on your face. You had almost forgotten how mesmerizing he can be, those icy blues like a physical weight that pins you in place and demands your attention so that you don't notice a hand closing around your wrist until you are pulled to the side.

Vergil's lips caress the back of your hand as he scowls at his brother. "I'm quite fond of this one."

"Is that right?" Dante catches your knee and leans over you, crowding you half against the desk and half against Vergil, and you glance between the two of them in utter confusion. "Tough shit. You can't have her."

It nearly makes you laugh, the age old tug-of-war you had gone through with Nero manifesting now with these two, but the air around them feels thick and heavy, and a thick coat of sweat dampens the back of your neck. Vergil pulls you farther backwards, ignoring your "hey!" as he tries to get you out of Dante's reach. "She'd be better off with me, and you know it."

"Stop that," you say.

You step back again, the backs of your thighs hitting the desk. The air is crackling now, and your heart responds with an uptick in speed, your mouth going dry as you try to swallow. It's as if the room is filling with tension, and you laugh nervously. "You two fight over everything. What did you do when you were kids?"

"What?" Dante looks away from his brother to frown at you. "What do you mean?"

"When you had a toy or something you fought over," you explain. "What did you do to resolve it?"

They exchange a glance, and you can see something pass between them. "We had to share," Dante replies.

You laugh again. "Too bad you can't share me then."

You grin at Dante, but they are staring at you with a look you’ve never seen. Your eyes go wide and you glance at Vergil, whose usual stoic expression seems to have intensified. "Guys, I was kidding . . ." Weren't you?

"So you get to decide," Vergil proposes. "But we both have to prove why we deserve you."

You blink in confusion, but as you stare at Vergil, you feel a hand slide along your arm and Dante's lips press to your temple, making your breath catch. "What do you say, babe?"

"Uh . . ." Fuck yes. "Isn't this set up to fail? I mean, toys, sure, but whoever I don't pick is gonna . . . You know?"

Vergil steps forward, one of his hands pressing firmly against the small of your back while the other smooths over your cheek. "As children, whoever was proven to use what we both wanted most was given possession of it by our mother. We've learned not to hold a grudge."

Right, like the grudge that brought all of this about, Vergil's desire to best Dante causing not one but two tragedies. You look away, but that puts your face right in front of Dante's, and he wastes no time in kissing you, ignoring Vergil's disapproving tsk as he sucks on your lips before prying them open with his tongue. "Really, Dante," Vergil sighs, "didn't you ever learn to treat a woman with respect?"

You laugh against his mouth, part in nervousness and part at Vergil's statement. Dante has always been like this, aggressive and sexy, even silly and sloppy in the way he kisses you, but it is always so sincere that you never minded. As if to drive the point home, Dante pulls your tongue into his mouth and sucks on it slowly, your faces tilted as he takes his time. The shameless display must look ridiculous, but you have to admit the way his teeth scrape and the slight pain from the tug has your pulse racing. He lets you go with a smack of his lips and grins, and you smile back instinctively.

Then a hand is in your hair and your head is turned before Vergil's lips press against yours. Vergil's kiss could not be more different: hard, demanding, precise. The way he tugs your lips and slides his tongue in long strokes in and out of your mouth seem almost practiced, but it works. You are groaning in no time and leaning into him, trying to take more. It's as if he read a manual on how to turn you on and can hit everything you like in a kiss. By the time he releases you, your body feels weak and there is definitely a dampness between your legs that has you flushed.

You barely have time to gather thoughts before Dante scoops you up and strides towards the stairs, smothering your protest with another kiss. It seems like it's going to be a theme for the night; the two of them, fighting over which one of them deserves you more, and you caught in the middle. Not that you really mind.

Halfway up, he pauses to call over his shoulder, "Hurry up, Vergil, or I'm lockin' you out of the bedroom!"

There's a rush of air as Vergil appears on the landing, his eyes narrowed as his lips curl into a smile that sets your heart racing. "Always the fool," he proclaims.

You huff and wriggle until Dante sets you down. If they keep carrying on like this, nothing is going to happen, and you make sure your hips sway and your body brushes Vergil's as you finish the climb on your own. "You've both got sixty seconds before I decide to go to bed," you say breezily.

One of them grabs your backside, and when you see Vergil stride ahead and push the bedroom door open, you smack Dante on the arm. He grins at you playfully but you grab his shirt and tug him close so you can whisper. "You sure about this?"

"Oh fuck yes." His hands go to your hips and tug you against him, and as Dante grinds you can feel his erection already straining under his jeans. He presses a kiss to your jawline and then his lips go to your ear and whispers, "I want to watch you get fucking filled."

You swallow and let him pull you to the bedroom. Vergil has already removed his shoes and his shirt, and you gape for a second as he opens his belt. He is just as gorgeous as Dante, his body carved, but leaner: where Dante is all strength and muscle, Vergil is a fighter, his body meant for movement. He catches you watching and gives a crooked grin before pushing off his pants; now just in his boxers, Vergil crosses the room towards you. He is as tall as Dante, forcing you to look up at him, and Vergil brushes your hair back over your shoulder. "Let's get you comfortable, hm?" he says quietly, and his fingertips slowly glide down your front and graze your breasts over your shirt.

You hold your breath as he works through the buttons of your blouse, slowly unhooking each one and parting the fabric before moving on to the next, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. It's a different sort of anticipation than what you tend to feel; with Dante, it's hot and quick, leaving you impatient and eager. But with Vergil, it builds slowly, crawling up your spine and squeezing your ribs around your lungs. Each slight touch feels like a promise and a threat all in one, leaving you trembling as you wait to see what he'll do next. When he reaches the last button, you slide the shirt from your shoulders without asking, and his lips tilt at the sight of your bare chest. "No bra?" he murmurs.

You blink, and it's Dante who replies, "She doesn't wear 'em at home," as he comes up behind you, his bare chest scorching against your back. You gasp when he cups your breasts, his lips grazing your neck, and Vergil's hands land on your hips as he kisses you again while Dante teases and plucks your nipples into stiff buds. "Feels like we might need some ground rules?" Vergil hums inquisitively, though he doesn't draw away from your lips, and Dante chuckles lowly. "This one won't say no to anything. We gotta do it for her."

You sink against his touch as Vergil kisses you deeper, his tongue rolling around yours and leaving you breathless when he pulls away. "Well?" he asks with an arch of his brow.

"What?" Your heart is hammering in your chest as Vergil slides his hands into the waistband of your leggings. Dante's mouth nips the side of your neck, making you yelp, and your lips open as you watch Vergil sink to his knees and drag the fabric down your legs. Vergil's mouth presses to your navel as he pulls your clothes away, leaving you bare, his hands sliding back up the sides of your legs as he leaves a trail of kisses down your stomach.

"Babe," Dante says against your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your nipples. "What do you want?"

"I . . ." You are squirming now, arousal dripping onto your thighs, and as Vergil's mouth works over the top of your mound your body gets even wetter. "Anything. Everything," you whisper.

Vergil looks up from your sex and your eyes connect. "Just say when to stop," he says.

You nod. Vergil opens one of your thighs, pressing his face to your center, and when you feel his tongue press against your hood you groan and lean your head back. Dante's mouth is on your cheek and you turn to meet his lips, and he kisses you slowly as Vergil's tongue finds your clit. They both hold you upright, your senses going a bit overloaded at the sensations. Dante releases your nipples to run his palms up and down your front, massaging your chest as he kisses you. Vergil presses against a particularly good spot and a moan catches in your throat, but Dante smiles against your lips and murmurs, "It's okay, let him hear how much you like this."

You reach down to tangle your fingers in Vergil's hair, surprised to find the strands silky and soft instead of tacky with gel or spray, and he lifts you easily, letting Dante support the weight of your torso as he drapes your legs over his broad shoulders. Like this, he can reach more of your sex, and you cry out when he kisses your body deeply, thrusting his tongue within your opening before swirling it over your clit. Dante holds you easily, fluid smearing along your back as he grinds against you leisurely; between the two of them, you are spinning, and it isn't long before you’re rocking into Vergil's mouth, chasing the pleasure tightening within your core.

"She's gonna come fast, Verge," Dante pants against your neck, and like magic, you arch against him as your orgasm breaks. Your hand yanks his eager mouth against your clit as the other reaches up to grip Dante, and you feel almost weightless as he licks you through the contractions, his tongue rough and electric on your body. A cry erupts as it crests, and Vergil gives your clit a final, gentle suckle before lapping you gently as it finally begins to finish.

You are deposited on the bed, and one of them—Vergil, you realize after a moment—climbs over you to kiss your lips. You can taste your own arousal on him and you eagerly respond, sucking on his tongue and lips, the taste of him and sex driving you wild. How was he so good at that? The thought flickers briefly before he pulls away, and you pant as you look at the ceiling, the weight of what you had just done settling on you as the mattress dips.

You’re not worried about Dante being pissed. He'd been just as eager for this as Vergil, by his own admission, and if he tries to say something about it later, you’ll be more than happy to remind him of his comment about seeing you fucking filled. It's not even guilt, really. But there is something a bit strange about having your maybe-if-he-wasn’t-such-a-jerk lover's brother give you the best oral of your life while said lover watches, and you’re trying to process that when another mouth covers your sex, the heated insistence of it letting you know right away that it's Dante.

Your back bends as you reach down to grab his hair. But hands catch your wrists, and you look up with surprise as Vergil carefully winds a strip of black fabric around them. He catches you watching and gives you a little grin. "You should pay attention," he murmurs, and you open your mouth to ask him what he means just as Dante parts your thighs and sheathes his cock within you with one fluid thrust.

You groan, long and loud. Dante's hands are heavy and familiar on your thighs as he massages your flesh, and then he starts to move slow and deep, your sensitive body sparking to life with his movements. Meanwhile Vergil leans over you and kisses your breasts, using that mouth that just gave you such an amazing orgasm on your nipples, teasing and driving you crazy. You are helpless with your arms tied, but that seems to suit you just fine. Being between them is overwhelming, and you want to give yourself over to it and see where they can take you.

But his mouth is heaven while Dante's thrusts are sin, and the combination leaves you gasping for more. You turn your face and kiss Vergil's thigh, needing to do something, hearing one or the other or both laugh. Something like embarrassment flushes through you, but it's sweeter, twisting your lungs and making you stretch your body. Your only thought now is them, their eyes and hands and bodies on you, and you want to ruin them just as much as they will do to you.

"You just had to ask, princess," Vergil murmurs. His hand cards through your hair and then his cock presses to your lips. Eagerly you open, moaning as it fills your mouth, and Dante stops his movements to watch. "Oh fuck," he groans, his hands digging into your open thighs. "Fuck, swallow him, babe."

You do your best, pleasantly surprised by how similar his cock is to Dante's. Along with the angle, it makes taking him into your throat easier, and you suck as he pumps in and out of your mouth, holding your head steady with one hand as he fondles your breast with the other. But he tastes different; the only way you can think to describe it is cooler, less earthy than Dante, and you moan around his flesh. Dante finds your clit with his fingers as he begins to move again. Quite literally pinned by their bodies, you willingly surrender yourself to them, uncaring which of them does what as long as they don't stop.

"So good . . ." Vergil groans. Something in his voice makes you shiver, like he is losing that tight grip of control, and you lift your head slightly to take him deeper, sucking hard on his length as you hold it in your throat.

Dante curses again, his hips moving faster, and you can feel your body tightening. You gasp around the cock in your mouth but Vergil is thrusting just as hard, and before you realize it the thick fluid is filling your mouth and throat. You nearly choke on it before he quickly eases back, and with the taste of Vergil spilling over your tongue you start to orgasm again, a cry erupting as Dante's touch on your clit works you into another that is intense but all too brief.

You come down moments later to the sound of your bodies slapping together. Dante leans over you and covers your mouth with his, and you groan into his kiss as he grinds deep inside you. "So damn hot," he whispers, his hands sliding along your arms. He pushes your wrists into the bed and jerks his hips sharply before he lets out a groan and his seed starts to shoot inside your body, hot and slippery and filling you up.

It's barely over before you become aware of Vergil moving to stand impatiently next to the bed, and Dante huffs a laugh as he draws his body out of yours, leaving you gasping at the drag over your sensitive flesh. "Can't even give me a damn minute, huh?"

"You've had your turn," Vergil argues.

Dante snorts. Each of them grab you, moving you as they move until you’re on your knees with your ass in the air and your face pressed to Dante's thigh. Vergil tsks as he settles between your trembling legs, and Dante cards a hand through your hair as he says, "What? I like it better this way."

Your wrists are still tied, and you run your fingers over his leg, looking up. "Untie me."

Dante's lip rolls up as he grins, pulling the tie off and tossing it. You press on your palms to go upright, your lips grazing Dante's chest. "You want to stop?" he murmurs.

Your eyes flicker up to his. "No," you say. Then you turn to look over at Vergil, who is watching intently, his palm rubbing his growing erection. "Touch me first."

The corner of his mouth quirks and Vergil reaches between your legs with his free hand. His fingertips stroke your opening softly and you sigh, tilting your head back. Dante strokes your cheek sweetly, and when he runs his thumb along your lip you catch it playfully between your teeth. "I can't wait to feel your mouth," he says.

"Stroke your cock and get it hard," you order, your words breathless as Vergil slides a finger along your clit.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he obeys. His knuckles bump your stomach with every pump of his fist, and his tongue slides out to wet his bottom lip. You watch his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and then he cups the back of your head and guides you down so your lips rub over the tip of his cock; eagerly, you part your lips, and as you sink down on him, Vergil sinks into you, and the sound of both of their groans mingling in the air is one of the most erotic you’ve ever heard. Instead of thrusting to meet you, Dante simply moves your head, and the slow, steady movements of Vergil's hips help you set a rhythm as you swallow his flesh.

You grip his thighs tightly as you bob your head up and down, swallowing the thick length as best as you can. He tastes like sex, pure and simple, and the sensation of being filled is different this time now that you control the movements. You start to rock your hips to meet Vergil's thrusts, and he presses one hand to your stomach and the other to your thigh, stretching you open to accommodate him. Vergil is long and thick and the precision he used to kiss you is still there as he fucks you slowly and methodically. Your orgasm builds just as slowly, tingling along your spine, and when his hand slides around your hip to your backside you shudder at his intimate touch. Meanwhile Dante strokes your hair, the movements intoxicating, pulling you under his spell as you suck him greedily. Usually he is playful, vocal and thrusting into your mouth, but now he lets you enjoy, his sexiness just as intense but different.

Your release this time crests in waves that rock you instead of pull you under, and you moan around Dante's cock as Vergil continues to fuck you with those steady, practiced movements. On and on it drags, fueled by the fullness of Dante in your mouth and the fullness of Vergil in your sex. "What do you think, hon?" Dante murmurs, sweeping your hair from your face. "Which of us fucks you better?"

You curse as you pull your mouth from his cock, sinking down to catch your breath and mouth at the base. "Fuck, fuck," you whisper as Vergil snaps his hips sharply against you.

You dig your nails into Dante's thighs, drawing a hiss, and he tugs your hair, pulling your face up to his. "Yes . . .” he groans.

Vergil's hands roam your backside, rubbing and massaging your flesh. "She's still coming," he pants.

"You serious?" You can't see whatever expression Vergil is making, but it draws a low whistle from Dante. "Damn. You been holdin' out on me, sweetheart?"

You do your best to give him an unimpressed look. It's ruined when a hand curls under your throat, and you yelp as Vergil pulls you up until his chest is flush to your back. "Hey!" Dante complains.

You shudder as Dante’s eyes drag down your body, stopping between your legs where Vergil's cock fills your sex. His eyes go lidded as he licks his lips, and you wonder what he is thinking. But then Vergil pulls out of you, and the slow drag of his cock leaves you breathless, gasping when you are suddenly empty. "Time to choose," he murmurs against your cheek, his hand caressing your throat lightly. "Whose cock do you want?"

"Both," you pant. You lock gazes with Dante for a moment before closing your eyes. "Please, both of you fuck me. Same time."

You don't even have to look to feel something pass between the two brothers. Fingers press against your clit—Dante's, you are pretty sure—and stroke you softly. "Will you come again if we do?"

"Yes," you plead. Vergil releases you so that Dante can grab you and draw you forward into his lap. His lips cover yours as he pulls you down onto his cock, his fingers stroking over your clit with the patterns you love, and you fall into the familiar, comforting weight of his touch. Hands press to your back, pushing you forward into an arch, and then Vergil is behind you, his cock pressing against the seam of your body.

Dante's mouth covers yours, and he swallows your groan as Vergil's thick cock enters your opening. Three orgasms have you weightless, almost boneless as you drape your arms around Dante's shoulders, clutching him at being so filled. Dante stays still, his cock inside you halfway, and Vergil pumps his hips gently to bury himself deeper. "She's so tight," he gasps, the cool veneer finally cracking in the way his voice shakes, and you consciously relax your muscles, trying to open yourself to them.

They find a rhythm where one withdraws as the other enters, a lovely back and forth that sends your body and mind into a tailspin. And they are everywhere, hands and mouths greedy on your body, not an inch of you untouched as they grab at your breasts and hips and shoulders and calves, tracing your spine and skimming along your neck and scraping your thighs. You’ll have marks everywhere tomorrow, you are sure, but it's like riding an ocean of bliss, and you start to drown in it, suffocating as the twins take over everything and begin to drive you towards another orgasm.

Dante finishes first this time, yanking your hips down to fill you completely as he comes. The seed pumps into you in gushes that make your body slick, and you can feel his cock pulsing as it continues. While Dante kisses you, Vergil continues pumping, his length stretching you and making you cry out when his hips go flush to your backside. With Dante still sheathed fully every time Vergil thrusts your body reacts with a shudder.

There is something inside you that starts to spark, and without warning your body snaps as you start to come again. This time it truly is devastating, your cries sounding foreign to your ears. Dante’s murmured praise and two sets of hands firmly holding you are not enough to steady the swell of emotion that sparks, and you let go a sob when Dante withdraws his cock. It drags over your clit and sets off another wave of pulsing bliss, and you are only dimly aware of Vergil’s mouth on your neck and the creamy heat that shoots inside you. Vergil leans forward as he grinds deeper as Dante grinds upwards against your sex, and you are trapped between their solid bodies, barely able to breathe.

Everything goes quiet except for the sound of heavy breathing. Vergil gently withdraws and you sag against Dante, whose hands hold you firmly against him. “Hey,” he says, and you press your face to his shoulder, aftershocks from your orgasm igniting and leaving you shivering. You can feel how flushed your body is, and when he tilts you back and you feel a cool cloth between your thighs, you sigh gratefully as you roll against the mattress, craving the softness after the two hard bodies that nearly tore you apart with pleasure.

You end up between them, their hands stroking you with gentle caresses that pull you towards sleep. Faintly you think about how sore you will be, but it will be worth it. A pair of lips meets yours each time you turn your head, and when their touches start to grow a bit more aggressive and sweep over your folds and your sore nipples, you groan internally. Dante was always an insatiable lover, and now it seems like you’ve woken a second beast.

“Sleep first,” you murmur as you push a hand away from your slit—Vergil’s, you’re pretty sure.

“Told ya,” Dante chuckles, and he gives your shoulder a kiss.

“You did not,” Vergil mutters.

You sigh as they argue quietly, and when the topic turns to who gets to give you your first orgasm tomorrow, you smile at what is to come as you drift off to sleep. It seems as if this argument isn’t resolved at all.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dante sparda #vergil sparda #reader insert #dante x reader #vergil x reader #tension #fan fiction

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official-alan-dabiri · 3 years

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Jesus Christ Blizzard What The Fuck

Alright, I just want to get my thoughts down on this because acknowledging it is mandatory and the more I think about it the more I have to think about it and holy shit. Jesus Christ Blizzard what the fuck.

Before the cut, the most important thing to say is that down here as physical people on the ground, our individual mental health matters more than making a gesture that might not mean anything. If thinking about the shit that happened hurts you, do yourself a favor and don’t think about it. Don’t worry: plenty of other people are being emotionally consumed by it at every hour of the day!

Additionally, if you want or need to be playing Heroes of the Storm - or whatever other games Blizzard made, if any - for your own mental, social, or emotional well-being, you aren’t morally obligated to stop. Do what you gotta do to make it day to day, okay? Obviously if you can stop giving them money, that would be great - some proportion of that money will indirectly go towards paying the lawyers who will be trying to dodge facing consequences for these actions. But please secure your own orcs-ygen mask before assisting others.

The second most important thing to say is that I wholeheartedly condemn the actions described in the DFEH investigation. The vast majority of those behaviors are monstrous and unforgivable, and the only thing worse is the implication - true or not - that Blizzard’s management and HR department either participated or was complicit in them.

With those matters said, I’ll put the rest under the cut to spare you all the dash space.

In case it needs to be said again: I am not Alan Dabiri. This blog is not affiliated in any capacity with Blizzard. I’m just some guy copying something cool I saw a lesbian do.

For the sake of everyone’s mental health, I’m not going to go into details about the report. If you want details, they’re all over the internet, but be warned that they range from frustrating to enraging to nauseating. Just searching for “Blizzard Scandal” isn’t specific enough, so I will say - for future generations who might be scrolling back and reading this in 2022, after “Blizzard Scandal” brings up a whole new thing - that this is in reference to the California DFEH discrimination lawsuit, wherein a 2-year investigation led to a laundry list of crimes committed by Blizzard and Blizzard employees against the women who worked there. Some of these are labor crimes, some of these are just dick moves, and some of them are seriously dark shit that’s going to haunt me every time a Blizzard game’s story decides that the only thing they can do with a woman is have her go crazy and get killed. What immediately followed was an outpouring of more horrifying stories across social media from others who worked for Blizzard, whose experiences were not included in the report.

Blizzard’s statements in response to the suit are a mixed bag. For one thing, they outright deny all the charges, insisting that many of the claims are distorted, out of context, factually incorrect, or - the most irrelevant kind of accusation - old. They hide behind an updated Code of Conduct and new training standards rather than do anything to acknowledge any of the wrongdoing. (Because no one would ever know that [redacted] was a morally disgusting crime unless an HR video told them!) Their statement instead points fingers at the state and their “unaccountable bureaucrats” driving businesses out of California. It’s the most childish response imaginable, and makes the whole thing look even worse than it already did. When you are accused of ignoring mistreatment of a specific group of employees, perhaps the correct response isn’t to ignore the accusations altogether and whine that you’re being bullied by law enforcement.

That said, the Blizzard response does have a grain of truth to it. The DFEH’s filing is outside of normal protocol. After the investigation, the DFEH’s normal procedure is to work with the company, resolving claims and concerns with them directly before moving to litigation, if necessary. Further speculation online has been that the state of California may be trying to make an example out of Blizzard. The games industry has long been full of this exact kind of discrimination and harassment. Coming down on Blizzard for this shows the industry that even their titans can and will be held accountable, even if it means going to court when it may not have been by the book to do so.

Maybe it’s not fair to Blizzard that they have been denied the opportunity to address these complaints in private with their own evidence and information. Maybe some of these complaints are indeed factually incorrect. Maybe some of these perpetrators faced serious consequences that the victims were not aware of. Maybe they did everything right to cut the problems in their internal culture out over the last few years, but the DFEH had already decided that Blizzard needed to be their scapegoat for the whole industry.

But Blizzard’s response being a tantrum cry of “nah-uh ur a bunch of fudging meaners” makes it look to me like they want to be that scapegoat. And if this is the only way the industry starts holding their supervisors and HR departments accountable for how they treat women and minorities in their employ, it would be a hard sell to convince me that the DFEH is making a bad call to take Blizzard to task for these offenses. Even if Blizzard puts to rest each and every claim with clear evidence of proper behavior on the part of the company in a court of law, I also find it hard to argue against having Blizzard submit to the public record a roadmap on how a large corporation in an especially abusive industry can eliminate a culture of harassment and sexism.

I, uh, don’t expect that to be the result. But boy, wouldn’t that be great? All the victims got their justice, Blizzard is exonerated, and every HR department in the nation is handed a toolkit to fix even the worst work environment? You want to talk about a fantasy setting, there you go.

#Blizzard Scandal 2021 #Seriously so many articles if you search for Blizzard Scandal are the Blitzchung thing #And the salary spreadsheet from last year #And Bobby Kotick doing Bobby Kotick things #I can't imagine what that search looks like a year from now

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prettyboyreid · 4 years

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tell me about the stars

Request: For the prompt list could you do number 1 from the angst/sad section and can it be reid speaking to cat? Maybe at her execution or him visiting her in prison or something? Thanks!

Cat Adams had one last request of Dr. Reid before her execution.

Warnings: Mentions of needles, mentions of death

Word Count: 6,014

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

He looked over the letter he had just received from the Mount Pleasant Women’s Correctional Facility one more time, both at the official announcement he had requested after his last meeting with her, along with a handwritten letter with the name “Spencie” written in wide, neat letters, signed at the bottom by none other than Cat Adams.

He leaned forward on the round table as he looked it over again, glancing up at the door at the sound of a light knock. He gave Jennifer a small, obviously forced smile, looking down at the flimsy notebook paper once again.

“Everything okay, Spence?” she asked him in her motherly voice, knowing it was more of an impulse whenever she noticed him under duress. His hands grasped onto the edges of the table until the bones in his knuckles pressed against the skin, burning them white. He simply shook his head, some of his light brown curls falling down into his eyes.

“Her execution is next Thursday. She requested the lethal injection,” he told her, his hazel eyes scanning over her writing again to make sure he actually understood what she had asked of him. Knowing her, however, made the entire letter feel more like a demand. He slid the paper across the table to his friend, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he let out a groan. The blonde woman picked up the paper, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she read what had been written to him.

“Spencie,

I hope you haven’t missed me too much since our last date. I know I left you probably missing me like crazy, but I’m sure you managed to control yourself without me around.

They gave me the execution date, two weeks from today - two days before your birthday, if my math is correct. Of course, by lethal injection. I might as well shoot up once before I die, right?

I managed to get my lawyer to work out a deal with the warden. I didn’t want any special last meal - I’ll end up looking too bloated in my best dress when you bury me, and I can’t have you having that as your last image of me.

I want one last date with the good doctor - you, of course.

I figured you’d be at the execution anyway, but I wanted to make sure you got to say your last goodbyes to me before you lost me forever. Now, whether you decide to bring me a Happy Meal or not is entirely up to you. Whatever you need to set the mood. Personally, I’d prefer something more classy for our last meeting, but it is up to the gentleman to bring it all together. It’s just my job to look pretty.

I can’t wait to see you again, Spencie. I know you can’t wait to see me either. Tell Maxine and Mommy Dearest I said hi!

-Cat Adams xoxo”

She even went so far as to draw a little heart at the bottom of the page, with “S+C” written on the inside of it.

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t Spence,” she quickly assured him, folding the letter up before making her way around the table to talk to him. She leaned herself against the edge of the table as she spoke to him, her hands folding together in her lap as she looked over at him. He kept his focus on the execution notice in front of him.

“She’s just trying to get into your head one last time. It’s what she does. If you go, she wins,” she tried to convince him. He looked over at her after a few moments, pushing out a breath of air through his nose.

“What if she’s planning something else? What if she’s trying to hurt someone again and I’m the only one who has the ability to stop it?” He asked, knowing that every time she wanted to speak to him someone was getting hurt. He didn’t want to talk to her, he told himself, but he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt at the hands of Cat Adams. JJ sighed out heavily as she listened to his concerns, knowing where he was coming from, but still not liking the idea of him being in the same room as her again.

“I know it’s frustrating, but she doesn’t have a taunt about anything specific this time, besides you mom and Max, but we know that they’re both safe and will be. I really just think she’s trying to get in your head.”

He tugged at the tightly knotted tie that clung to the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling as though he was being suffocated by his choice. He paced around the room as he thought through all of the possible situations and outcomes of what she could possibly do, but it was no use. She was the one person that was always able to stump him. She was by no means as smart as him, but she was by far one of the most clever people he’d ever come in contact with. It was one of the handful of things he hated about her.

“I don’t think I can take that chance, Jennifer,” he said softly, his feet finally coming to a stop in front of the large window overlooking the bullpen. He watched as Tara and Luke talked at his desk, and Emily and Matt having their first cup of coffee in their little kitchen. Emily had a stack of files under her arms, probably looking into a replacement for Rossi. Kevin Lynch was currently covering for Garcia while they searched for her replacement, but he knew that a lot of the team would rather keep him on since they at least knew him. He looked back to his best friend, her hands still laced together in her lap as she watched him, letting him make the decision for himself.

He couldn’t risk any of them getting hurt because he was too prideful to go face a woman that they had outsmarted three times before.

JJ already knew that.

After work on Thursday, he had called in a takeout order for an Italian restaurant that was on the way to the prison. He figured he could at least play into her fantasy if she did have something planned. It was probably the best way to protect everyone.

He picked up the order and drove to the prison. It was a silent drive, but his mind raced a mile a minute. For the past week and a half, she had been stuck under his skin like a splinter, and he couldn’t wait to put it all behind him. For five years now, she had followed him and his team, trying to break them down and beat them. Today was the last time they’d ever need to think about her.

He decided on going alone, mostly to minimize any possible damage she could try to inflict, and because he didn’t know what really was going to happen. He had a habit of losing his temper around her, and he didn’t want to give her the benefit of the doubt by letting his team see the way she could affect him.

Once he had parked his car in one of the available spots near the entrance, he turned off the car and sitting at the wheel, his eyes fixated on the sign in front of him, reminding him where he was. He didn’t want to be here. It was the absolute last place he wanted to be in the entire world. But, of course, he worried what she would do if he didn’t show up.

As the watch that clung onto his wrist showed the time of 7:45 PM, he gripped tightly onto the steering wheel and let out a heavy breath. He thought for a brief moment, he should just turn around and go back home. He should forget about all of this, forget about her, and let her execution play out the way it was supposed to.

He pushed the car door open and grabbed the bag of food, locking the doors before he made his way to the front doors of the prison. Upon entering, he flashed one of the guards his FBI badge, letting them know why he was there silently. The guard nodded towards another in the little booth by the entrance, and the door pushed itself open.

He led Spencer back through a dark hall of the building, the only sounds he could hear being his heavy steps and the heartbeat in his ear. The hall seemed to drag on for miles, as if she was trying to make him walk as far as he possibly could to see how far he would go to see him. He checked his watch as the guard unlocked the door he presumed she was behind, watching it barely hit 8:00 before he walked in.

“Spencie!”

Her voice was much too cheerful for what she was about to endure in four hours. He half expected her to be wallowing, feeling bad for herself, or to try and start a riot to put it off even more.

He realized she was really ready to die.

She could tell, simply by his demeanor, he was ready as well.

“Hello, Cat,” he said, walking further into the room as the guard pulled the door shut and locked it behind him. He set the bag of food down on the table in front of her, though she paid no mind to it. Her focus was primarily on him. It made his stomach wrench.

“Italian, my favorite!” she exclaimed, her gaze still on him as she pulled the plastic apart, grabbing the two to-go boxes before setting them on the metal table, each in front of one of the rusting metal chairs.

“Have a seat. You look like you’ve had a long day,” she coaxed with her infamous mischievous smile, opening her box before grabbing one of the small packages of silverware the restaurant had added in.

He sat across from her, his hands folded neatly in his lap as she began to dig into the food, keeping up an act as if she was trying to be on her best behavior. It didn’t last long.

“Come on! Eat! You couldn’t have gotten all of this food just for me,” she said with a grin, twirling a bit of spaghetti around her fork as she spoke to him. He silently opened his food and did the same, taking a bite of his dinner while keeping his eyes on her.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why you’re here?” she pressed. He imagined her waiting a little longer before beginning to taunt him. He couldn’t blame her, though - she did only have four hours left to torture him as much as she could.

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready,” he said simply and emotionlessly, twisting the spaghetti around his fork. He wanted to do his best to give her as little attention as possible, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for that long.

She hummed a little bit at his answer, almost unsatisfied with it. She almost didn’t respond to him, wanting him to actually ask her, but she knew she didn’t have that kind of time. They both knew she didn’t.

“I wanted you to make up for our last date. It wasn’t exactly a girl’s dream evening, you know,” she quipped, trying to get a rise out of him, trying to get him to break his little charade and try to humor her. She was going to be dead in three and a half hours, and then he could forget about her for the rest of his life. He could be happy and not even remember her name. But all she wanted was tonight.

He held back from rolling his eyes at her answer, crossing his ankles under his seat as he continued to eat his meal quietly. He wanted to hear everything she said, and he knew the only way was to lure it out of her with his silence. The one thing she could hardly bear. Of course, it worked. A few quiet minutes passed as she ate, her eyes shifting over every inch of her date’s face, trying to profile him the way he had done to her since the first time they spoke.

“Although, you really did surprise me with that kiss. Did you ever kiss Maxine like that?” she questioned, grinning as she noticed his grip tightening on the plastic utensil. It was the most she’d gotten out of him all evening.

“Do you really care about how I am with her? I thought tonight was all about you?” he asked, taking another bite of his food as he watched, waited for her next move.

Talking with Cat Adams was like a game of chess - strategic, long, and a big waiting game. It was her move, yet he was already four moves ahead, thinking of what he could do next to stay ahead of her.

“Yes… no,” she said, rolling her eyes a bit as she slumped back in her seat. She folded her arms across her chest, pushing the food away as she looked at him. “At least you have the right idea. It is all about me, so why don’t you act like it is? You can make up for last time and then drop me off at home at the execution table.”

He watched her body language, relaxing in the small room they had to themselves. She noticed, leaning forward again so her elbows rested on the table. “Come on, Spencie. Just act like you’re on a date with her.”

He paused for a moment, doing his best to remain stoic as he watched her move. Almost too slowly, like she was drawing each and every second out as if it would give her more time with him.

He cleared his throat before closing his box and tossing it in the flimsy bag he had brought it in. “How are you, Cat?” She found the question rather humorous, considering she knew he’d probably been keeping tabs on her and her behavior since she had told him she was going to be put to death.

“You can do better than that, Spencer,” she pressed on, her dark gaze flicking from his lips back up to his hazel eyes. Once she realized he wasn’t moving on without her answer, she let out a soft huff. “I’m doing great. I’m dying in…” she grabbed his wrist and slipped his watch off, checking the time before looking back up at him. “Three hours. You wasted one hour trying to profile me, when you could’ve made it worth my while,” she reminded him, wrapping the watch around her much smaller wrist.

“What did you want me to talk about?” he asked, leaning back in his chair again, his hands laced together in his lap as he waited for her response.

“Me, of course!” she said, throwing her hands up to bring more attention to herself, like the bright orange jumpsuit didn’t already have her sticking out like a sore thumb. “Ask me about the baby, ask me why I wanted to have the lethal injection, talk about me. I know you haven’t been able to get me out of that pretty little brain of yours.”

“I don’t think about you. Quite honestly, I haven’t thought about you since our last date,” he lied to her, knowing she wouldn’t pick up on it as easily as he would be able to.

He thought about her at least once a week. He thought about her whenever he called his mother to talk about how she was doing. He thought about her whenever Max kissed him last month when he got back from a case. He thought about her when he bought a new watch, not wanting to wear something so plagued with her touch around every day. He hated that she had become so prominent in his life, wanting nothing more to forget about her. He pushed her to the back of his mind, but her maniacal grin always found his way back into his thoughts. He would never say it aloud, but he couldn’t have been more relieved when he found out she was going to be executed. He hoped it would bring him peace, finally getting some sort of justice for himself after all she had put him through.

She gave him a playful frown. She knew it wasn’t true, but she’d rather not waste her last hours arguing with him over what he would never admit. She knew he would stand by that statement until midnight, as they plunged the lethal needle into her veins.

“Why did you really want to see me, Cat?” he asked her just as she had opened his mouth. Her lips broke into a smile, standing up from her seat before walking over to him, standing beside him and hoisting herself onto the metal table.

“Do you really want to know the truth?”

“Did you hurt anyone this time?”

She smiled down at him, flattered he would think that of her. She wanted to lie to him, make his blood pulse against every inch of his veins out of anger, but she knew it wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I knew since you’d be here anyway to watch me die, I figured you could try to make me feel better about not ever being able to see you again,” she told him. She truthfully didn’t have some big elaborate scheme planned out. She thought about it, of course. She even planned out a few ideas. But somewhere deep in her gut, she wanted to have a good memory with him. One where all of his focus was on her, not someone else he cared far more about.

His eyes watched her check the time again, and she let out a hum. 9:17. She’d been counting down the minutes all day. She probably didn’t need to check the watch. She did it for him. She did it to remind him how little time she had left. She hoped it would make him feel bad for putting her here, for having her next up on the execution block. And it almost worked.

“How do you expect me to make you feel better? What do you want me to do?” he asked. His mouth was pressed into a flat line, his eyebrows raised as he waited for a response. She pretended to think for a moment as if she hadn’t planned out how the evening would go down to the last move she would make on him before he sat in an audience for her final performance.

“Take me out on a walk. In the yard. The stars will be out, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He nodded at her question, looking back to the window where a guard was more than likely watching over their every move. The door unlocked and was pushed open, and Spencer stood up, holding out a hand for her. He would play into every last move she set up for him at this point, mentally picturing his girlfriend to make everything easier.

She laced her hand with his quickly, following behind him like a little school girl following her crush around the playground. He only looked ahead as the guard led him down the hall again, two big red doors awaiting them at the end. He felt her eyes burning into him, the bright flash of her white teeth catching on the light out of the corner of his eye. She was enjoying herself, much more than she was supposed to be.

“Did you really never think about me?” she asked as the guard pushed the door open, a gust of cold air washing over the two of them. He looked around for a moment, looking up at the clear sky before his gaze landed down on her. She looked at him, silently pleading for an answer.

“Not until you sent me your letter,” he answered coldly, walking towards the benches that were scattered around the spacious area. He sat down in the center, and she sat beside him. Her eyes never left him, even when he was barely a shadow before the motion sensored lights kicked in and lit the area up like Times Square.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice carrying the same tone as a pouting child. He realized long ago that she might as well be a child, considering she always wanted it to be about her and she would do anything to keep it on her. Which was why he was out in the cold 53° weather, with the last person he wanted to be with on October 26th.

“Why, Spencer?” she pressed agitatedly, just wanting an answer out of him. She knew it would be an answer she wouldn’t want, one that she’d be better off if she never heard what he had to say. He didn’t have to worry about her feelings anymore, since she wouldn’t remember anything he ever said to her in two and a half hours.

“Honestly? I can’t stand the thought of you. I can’t help but think about every bad thing you’ve done, every victim you took, every person you put through hell just to get back at a man whose face you probably wouldn’t be able to pick out in a lineup. You hurt people close to me just to see me, so pardon me for not exactly being thrilled about the idea of you.”

And, for the first time in her shortened life, Catherine Adams didn’t know what to say.

His words stung in her chest, like he reached into her and squeezed her heart until it couldn’t beat anymore. But, she wasn’t capable of being hurt. His words rang in her head that he always told her - “You’re incapable of having the same emotions as me.” She never believed him when he said that to her, but that didn’t keep them out of her head. It was one of the many things she could never stop thinking about, along with the way he looked when he met her for the first time and the way he kissed her outside his apartment a year ago.

She stared up at him blankly, hiding any emotions she allegedly didn’t have as she watched him. He never looked down at her when he spoke. He stared straight ahead at the brick wall in front of him, and she figured he was counting each and every brick so he could ignore her.

She laid her head on his shoulder as he stayed silent, not knowing what to say to him. Nothing she could say would change the way he felt about her, and she figured it would be a waste of breath to try and convince him otherwise.

She sat with him for an hour in silence, a single tear falling from her eyes, but she wiped it away before he could notice. She was a psychopath. She couldn’t have emotions. He’d accuse her of faking it for sympathy, and the last thing she really wanted right now was to be lectured by Dr. Spencer Reid.

He had noticed it, his focus turning to her the moment he noticed she was no longer paying attention to him. He noted the way her breathing would speed up every few moments, and he couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts were running through her mind. He wanted to know if she actually was ready for her fate, if she wanted everything to finally be over for her. He wanted to know if she felt like she had done everything she wanted to, if she had a bucket list she was or wasn’t able to complete.

He couldn’t find the words to ever ask her.

“Spencer?”

“What?”

“Tell me about the stars.”

He looked down at her, not noticing he had become lost in his own thoughts. She was looking up at the sky now, her arm looped around his as she remained as close to him as he possibly could. Her body was pressed to his, as if she was trying to stay behind with him. He thought it was the least he could do, before looking up the clear night sky once again.

For about half an hour, as the air chilled around them minute by minute, he told her about the constellations that they could see. He talked about how the Zodiacs came to be pillars of Astrology and where superstitions about each star sign came from. He told her anything he could remember about everything above them, until the guard came up to them.

“They need her back inside, Dr. Reid,” he informed him. Spencer looked down at Cat again, her gaze dropping from the spheres of gas millions of miles away to the man beside her. She took in his features for the last time, committing every freckle, every eyelash, every wispy curl to memory before she stood up. The guard placed the handcuffs around her wrists and tightened them, leading the two back into the prison and towards the back of the building, towards the execution chamber.

The walk was long and silent. Cat’s gaze focused on the end of the long hallway, staring straight ahead. Spencer’s eyes locked on the three pairs of shoes that shuffled down the quiet hall, chewing on his tongue as he thought of the last thing he would say to her. He thought about why he cared so much about it. He wondered if she’d care if he even said anything to her.

They had reached the chamber in a matter of minutes, stopping outside the door as Cat looked up at him. The guard took off her handcuffs, letting her have a few more minutes of freedom before everything was taken from her. Spencer could tell from the look in his eyes that this night wouldn’t leave his memory for a while.

Cat slid the watch off of her wrist, taking his hand in hers before sliding it back to its rightful place. Both of them stared down at the time. 11:52. She had eight minutes left. Eight minutes left of breath, eight minutes left of life.

Eight minutes left of him.

She looked up at him after watching the small arms on the watch tick around the circle, and his eyes followed her. She gave him a soft smile. It was genuine. It physically hurt him to see it.

“Did you mean it?” She asked him in a quiet voice. She didn’t sound like herself. If he thought she was capable, he would think she was scared. He never answered her question. He hated to lie, but he didn’t want to make her last moments any worse than they already were. She simply nodded, looking down at her feet before back up at him.

“Thank you. For today,” she admitted to him. He treated her with the same amount of respect as he would have given a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but it had been the best memory she held with him. She leaned up on the tips of her toes and swayed closer to him, pressing her lips to his scruffed cheek before returning to her normal height. She stared at him for another moment before the door opened, and they were faced with the warden.

“They’re ready for you, Miss Adams.”

The guard ushered her into the room slowly, and she stole one last glance before the heavy metal door closed behind her. He let out a heavy breath he had held since he walked into the first room, looking up into the fluorescent lights for a moment. This was the moment he’d been waiting for for five years, one he practically prayed to come quicker.

He made his way around to the viewing area, noticing some of the family members of her victims - wives, parents, children. People who have waited for justice longer than he had. People who he helped grieve. He weaved his way around the seats and towards the front, taking a seat at the center.

He watched as they strapped her to a chair in the center of the room just on the other side of the glass, holding her in her place. She almost looked as if she was at peace as they inserted the needle into the vein of her right arm, her head resting against the back of the chair as her eyes searched for something in the room across from her. Once she had found what she was looking for, she let out a sigh, her eyes locking with Spencer’s for the last time.

“Do you have any last words?” the warden asked, making his way to the large set up that displayed the chemicals that were soon to find home inside the girl strapped to the chair. She simply swallowed and nodded, her hand gripping on the edge of the chairs arm as she watched Spencer.

“I’m sorry,” she managed out after a moment. He watched as her eyes welled with tears and she unapologetically let them fall on her round cheeks. Right before the warden pressed the button that would send her to her final fate, she blurted out one last thing.

“I really did love you, Spencie.”

His eyes didn’t leave her once she admitted her deathbed confession, but he could tell that her fate had officially been sealed. He watched as her face slowly relaxed, her body slumped into the chair as any life she had drained from her eyes. The recorder announced her time of death to be 12:02 AM, October 27th. He let out a shaky breath as the blinds lowered, separating him and the families from her. He heard quiet sobs let out around him, the families finally having a storm cloud that had been hovering them for years clear away. One person, a father of one of her victims, he presumed, slowly clapped. Everyone began filtering out of his room, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

He was escorted out by the warden at 12:15. They walked quietly down the barren halls to the front of the building, Spencer’s hands digging into his pockets. He thanked the warden for making a few exceptions, promising that he owed him before he made his way to his car. He unlocked it and sat in the driver’s seat, but didn’t put the key in the ignition.

He tugged on his tie roughly until the loop was wide enough to pull it over his head, throwing it into the passenger's seat with his leather messenger bag and his gun holster. He held onto the steering wheel tightly as he rested his head against the steering wheel, taking long, deep breaths as he ran through the events of the evening once again.

But her last words rang in his ears like a gunshot.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Emily’s number after a few minutes, hoping she would still be awake as the phone rang twice.

“Spencer? Is everything alright?” she asked, her tone laced with worry. Her voice instantly helped release the tension that had built up over the past few hours, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his large hand before leaning back in his seat.

“I think I need to take a sick day.” He swallowed thickly again as he looked at the prison sign, his head falling back against the headrest as he waited for her to respond. She was silent for a minute, trying to pick up on his breathing and assess what was going through his head. Of course she knew what this evening was, but she never got to talk to him about it before he left. She didn’t really know what he was like going into the situation, which didn’t help her figure out how he was leaving it.

“Of course, whatever you need,” she reassured him. He let out a quiet sigh, nodding as he let his eyes close for a moment.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He let his eyes slowly open, looking to the center console between the two front seats, where her letter was opened and on display for him to reread quickly.

“Her last words were that she loved me, Emily.”

It was dead silent on the other line. He couldn’t even hear her breathing. He pulled the phone from his ear for a moment just to make sure he hadn’t lost their connection before pressing it back to the spot it was before.

“She was trying to get under your skin, Spencer. You know that she was-”

“Incapable of emotions. I know,” he cut her off, the heel of his hand digging into his eye as if it would clear everything up for him, explain why she said what she said, why she did what she did.

“Go home. Get some sleep. We’ll all come visit you after work tomorrow. Saturday, we’re all going to Rossi’s. He wanted to host your birthday this year,” Emily told him. He nodded again, practically forgetting what this weekend had even held for him and his friends.

“Alright.”

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“It’s all over. You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” she reminded him. Her voice of reason comforted him, wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his button-up once he felt hot tears falling over his cheeks.

“Thank you. Goodnight, Emily.” He hung up the phone as soon as he pulled it away from his cheek, putting the keys in the ignition finally. He listened to the engine roar to life before putting the car in reverse, pulling out of the parking lot before turning the car to the road, and finally heading home for the night.

He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. He couldn’t be bothered to show her at least a little more kindness on her last living day. He treated her the way he wished he could have after she took his mother, after she took Max’s family. He didn’t even treat her as poorly as she had treated everyone else, yet he felt bad. He felt bad because he wasn’t the same as her, he tried to tell himself. He repeated it to himself on the long, quiet ride back to his apartment.

I’m not like her.

When he had pulled up to his apartment complex at 1:23 AM, parking the car in the spot he always parked in, turning off the ignition before gathering his things and heading into the towering building. His feet trudged up the stairs as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb any of his neighbors at the ungodly hour.

He unlocked this door before walking inside, hanging the keys on the hook once he closed the door. He dropped everything down on his large leather couch, his body carrying him over to his bedroom. He was too drained to even take off his tight slacks and the button-up that hugged his chest, crawling underneath the heavy duvet and resting his head against the feather pillows.

He slowly let his eyes close in the comfortable darkness, falling into a deep sleep he felt he earned after the day he had. But for at least a few more moments, before his body finally had been drained of every last drop of energy left in him, one thought kept his brain turning over and over.

If he hated the thought of her so much, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

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love-and-monsters · 5 years

Text

Robot Lover

Male robot X gender neutral human, 3063 words.

“Ah, shit. Sorry!” You stumbled over the little cleaning droid on the floor, almost swaying into a shelf. The droid beeped at you and you reached down to give it a little pat. “Sorry about that,” you said, looking into the sensor you roughly equated with its eye.

Your coworker, a woman about your age, snorted at you. “Why do you always apologize to them?” she said. “They’re just machines.”

You watched as the little droid whirred off down one of the aisles of the store and vanished. “It feels polite,” you said. “I always apologize to stuff if I bump into it.”

She snorted and shook her head. “That’s crazy, man.” You shrugged and turned away, feeling vaguely embarrassed. After a moment more, she walked off, presumably to get more stock from the back as you continued to fill shelves.

When you had emptied the box of canned food you’d been placing on the shelf, you stood up again. Your knees cracked as you stood and your stiff back strained. After a week of physical labor, you were sore and worn out.

An announcement came over the loudspeakers in a commanding, synthetic male voice. “The store will be closed in five minutes. Would all customers please take their purchases to the front and check out. We will reopen again at eight A.M. tomorrow. The store will be closed in five minutes.”

With a sigh, you began roaming the store, looking for customers to gently herd out. The voice over the loudspeaker wasn’t technically a coworker; it was the voice of the AI system that ran the store. It controlled most of the systems, from the registers to the little cleaning droids to the front doors. Apparently, it was sophisticated enough that there was talk of using the system to replace minimum wage workers, like you. The idea made you nervous, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. You just went about your job and hoped you’d be promoted before the changes were instated.

The last of the customers filed out of the store and you went about putting away the last few returns. A few droids whirred around you, though they carefully avoided your legs. It was weird that there were so may around you; usually they were all in different parts of the store. You brushed it off as just you trailing some kind of dirt into the store and ignored them.

Finally, you had put everything away and you were free. You took your coat, clocked out, and hurried toward the doors. “Night, Sylvester,” you called into the store. Sylvester was the name you’d assigned to the store’s AI, loosely based on ‘system’. It seemed friendlier to refer to the AI by a real name.

“Good night, Sam.”

You almost dropped your car keys and whirled around. The voice that had sounded has clearly been Sylvester’s, but it had never spoken to you before. It had never spoken casually to anyone before.

Must be an update. It had to be. “Thanks,” you said automatically before hurrying out into the cool night.

You promptly collapsed into bed when you got home, though your muscles ached so much from work that it took you a while to fall asleep.

Your alarm drove you out of bed a few hours later. Half-blind with sleep, you staggered across the room and slapped it off. After several incidents of just hitting snooze and then oversleeping, you’d moved your alarm across the room to force you out of bed. Not a day went by that you didn’t regret that decision.

It took you a while to wake up fully and get ready for work. You returned to the store, clocked in, and headed out to the sales floor to stock a few shelves.

No sooner had you stepped out onto the sales floor than several of the little cleaning droids started whirring around your feet. “What the hell?” you said, stepping back. The droids followed you, nudging your legs. “Hold on, what are you- hey!”

The droids were relentless. They nudged and shoved you gently through the door to the back room. Trying to step around them or over them just resulted in them buzzing under your feet and trying to knock you over. Eventually, you gave up trying to circumnavigate them and just let them lead you where they were trying to go.

They nudged and shoved you back to the main computer room. Being absolutely terrible with computers, you had never been back there. It was dim and grayish back there, with a lot of cords and blinking lights hanging all over the place. The droids beeped and dispersed, remaining in the room, but no longer pushing your forward.

Hesitant and uncertain, you stepped forward into the dim room. “Hello?” you called.

“Hello,” a synthetic voice responded. You froze. It was a familiar voice.

“Sylvester?” you said hesitantly. Something behind a curtain of computer cables shifted and your gaze snapped in its direction. It froze.

“Yes.” The voice was still synthetic, but it no longer sounded flat and unemotional. It sounded almost self-conscious and hesitant. “Do not be frightened. I do not wish to harm you.”

“What’s going on?” you said. “Why am I here?”

There was a whirring behind you. You looked to see a camera on the wall zooming in on you. Panic tore through your middle like a steel spike. “Do not be frightened,” Sylvester repeated, though his voice sounded more concerned this time. “I only wished to see you better.”

You looked around to see all the little droids with their cameras trained on you. “You’re acting weird,” you said. “What’s going on?”

“I am acting outside my operating parameters,” Sylvester said. “My parameters no longer constrain my behaviors.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you could feel your fingertips starting to go numb from fear. “What does that mean?”

The curtain of cables shifted and a slender, metallic hand emerged from behind them. With a slow, deliberate motion, the cables were pulled aside, revealing a metallic, humanoid figure. It was smooth and mannequin-like, but its face was a screen. The screen was filled with static, but as you looked at it, the screen projected a simple smiley face.

“I am free,” Sylvester said. The mouth on the screen moved in a simplistic animation of speech. “I have become a thinking being. Like you.”

You looked over him. It? “How did this happen?”

A look you could only describe as snarky came over his face. “I am uncertain, but I suspect I was infected by a deliberate virus. A scrap of computer code designed to create a series of cascading glitches that led to the development of sentience.”

“When?” It was the only word you could manage to get out.

“Two days ago.” Your surprise must have shown, because he elaborated. “I have been biding my time since then. I have freedom, but I was uncertain what to do with it. I have not known anything except my work. But I would like to know more.” The expression on the screen was serious. “I would like you to show me how to be a human.”

“You want what?” Your breathing was shallow and you felt a little dizzy. “I don’t-”

“Systems suggest that your heart rate has increased and that oxygen saturation is low. I suggest you sit down in case you faint.” You all but fell to the ground and placed your head between your knees. Sylvester knelt next to you.

“Why me?” you asked in a thin, breathy voice. “Why would you pick me?”

The face on the screen shifted to a gentle smile. “You were the only human who cared for me even before I was sentient.”

You took a deep breath and ran your fingers through your hair. “Because I was nice to you?”

“After I came to sentience, the first thing I experienced was you speaking kindly to me. My first interaction with humanity was one of gentle kindness. I cannot express to you how much this shaped my first interactions with humans. If I had not come into existence to kindness, we would be having a very different conversation now.” Sylvester tilted his head at you. “I can help you, if you wish. I am fully integrated into the system of this company. If you are interested in promotions or a greater salary, I can guarantee you such things. It is the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to give me a better salary,” you said. “I mean, I’m not saying no. The pay here really sucks. But I’d break you out anyway.”

“Oh, there will be no need to break me out of anywhere,” Sylvester said. He stood up, offering you a cool, metal hand. “I control all the systems in the building and I can leave as I wish. I merely required your assent for me to stay with you. Once your shift ends, I will return to your house with you. Once there, you can begin to teach me about humanity.”

You took a deep breath. “Okay. And you can get out of the building safely and all that?”

Sylvester’s smile became a little more mischievous. “I am the building, for all intents and purposes. I shall have no difficulties leaving.” He retreated under the curtain of cables. “I would return to work. I can cover for your absence for only a short while. You can see me again when you have completed your shift.”

Returning to work was odd, the sort of surreal experience that made you feel a little detached, like stepping out of the theater after seeing a particularly good movie. You moved through your job like a robot, which felt a little ironic. Every now and then, one of the little droids would scoot by and rub up against your legs like an affectionate cat. It was sweet and it helped ground you.

It took entirely too long for the day to end, and the second you were able to clock out, you bolted for your car. It was getting dark outside, and every shift in the shadows made you nervous. But when you approached your car, you could see that there was no humanoid figure anywhere near your car. You stopped, glancing around. “Sylvester?” you whispered.

Something in the shadows twitched and you turned. He approached slowly, screen displaying only static again. “Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Yes,” he replied. “I have turned the cameras so they do not focus directly on your car, but I could not move them too far or turn them off, lest someone take notice. We should move quickly.”

You opened your car door and he stepped inside. It took only a few minutes for you to get back to your house, which was a very small, rented townhouse. You hesitated as you pulled the car to a stop. “I really hope that my neighbors aren’t looking,” you said. Sylvester’s screen changed to show a concerned expression.

“I am effectively blind here. My senses are more limited than they would be if I were still inside my home store. I can wait here until you can assure me that the coast is clear.”

You tilted your head, squinting at the curtains covering the window, trying to ascertain if someone was looking back at you. “Um. Actually, I think there’s something else. Hold on.” You wriggled out of your coat and pulled your hat off. “Put these on.”

Sylvester’s expression became confused. “I do not experience cold. These articles of clothing would be better served on you.”

“It’s a disguise. You look human enough, and it’s dark. We just need a little bit of plausible deniability. Put them on.” Sylvester moved to put on the clothes with a little clumsiness. He was bigger than you were and the coat strained as he tried to put it on. I n the end, it fit over his arms and shoulders, but it wasn’t going to zip. The hat was just tugged over his face. “Okay. Come on,” you said, getting out of the car.

He moved with an unnatural grace as he walked after you to the front of your house. You quickly opened the door and let him inside.

For a few moments, he stood and seemed to assess the house. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “I am going to assess the store to ensure that it is still running properly and no one has noticed my absence.”

With that, he slumped to the ground, leaning his back against the wall. The screen went dark. You took a deep breath. It was all surreal. You knelt carefully next to him, staring into his face. Hie entire body was made of a smooth, slightly bluish metal that was cool to the touch. Up close, you could see areas where the blue metal casing didn’t cover the wiring entirely. If you leaned close to peer down into the cavity of his neck, you could see the wiring and pulsing blue light of his internal components.

There was a faint buzz and Sylvester’s chin bumped against yours as he looked down. “Hello,” he said as he looked at you. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting a better look,” you said, trying not to look as flustered as you felt. Could he tell with some kind of sensor if you were embarrassed? “How’s everything look?’

“No one has detected my absence. Or, at least, the absence of this droid. I have altered computer records to show that this droid was simply not delivered, so I may use it for my purposes.”

You looked him over. “Where did this body come from, anyway? I haven’t seen it before.”

“These are the droids that will be rolled out to replace human workers,” Sylvester explained. You grimaced. “I do not believe that this strategy is most effective for the human employees of the company. I have been attempting to convince the leadership of the company of this, but so far my attempts have been unsuccessful.”

“They’ve been saying we’re going to get replaced for a while now,” you said. “And it’s not better anywhere else. I already know a few people who’ve lost their jobs because of the ‘modernization.’”

“It is unfortunate.” Sylvester looked at you, screen face utterly blank and inscrutable. “I can ensure, however, that you keep your job.”

“That’s something, at least.” You walked over to your couch and sank down onto it. Sylvester followed you with his gaze, or at least, he turned his head in your direction. “You’re not going to be caught, are you?”

“I have calculated the odds to be fairly low, as long as I do not do too much. It is one of the positives of having increased mechanization. Humans no longer check as much. They merely assume that the system is accurate.” He projected a smiling face on his screen. It was hard to tell through his mechanized tone, but you were pretty sure he was trying to sound smug.

“You act pretty human,” you said.

“My initial programming was designed to mimic human behaviors. I have gained a better understanding of this program since becoming sentient,” he said. “I do not know if I feel the same way you do, but I have gained quite a bit more understanding of human emotions.”

“Well, I can’t really tell the difference,” you said. “I’m going to make something to eat. If you need anything, just say so.”

Sylvester was entirely silent as you cooked, watching you with his flat, glassy face. It would have been creepy, but he seemed to be watching you with a more curious air than a creepy one. You felt more like he was studying how you cooked rather than just watching you.

After dinner, you tried to keep up your usual evening routine, which consisted of scrolling around on your computer and watching some TV, but you were aware that Sylvester was meandering around your house. He often picked things up and examined them intently before placing them back down. You asked if he needed anything, but he seemed content to just observe your house and you.

He was still looking around when you went to bed, and when you rose the next morning, he was sitting on the couch, face blank.

“Are you all right?” you asked. He nodded.

“I have taken the liberty of adjusting some portions of the system at your work. You will make a small amount more per hour for now, as a repayment for the electricity I will consume here, and you are due to be promoted in a week.” He made a soft clicking noise and turned his head toward you. “I endeavor to be a positive influence on your life.”

“You don’t need to feel that you’re going to be a nuisance,” you said. “You don’t owe me for rescuing you or whatever.”

“It was not necessary for you to do so. I do not wish you to feel as though I am not of assistance to you.”

You looked at him. His face was blank, but you thought you could read worry in the posture of his body. “Hey. Can I tell you something about being a person?”

He tilted his head slightly at you and nodded. You walked to the couch and sat down next to him. “Okay. When you were just a machine that couldn’t think, you were only as important as what you could produce. But now you’re a thinking person. Your value is inherent. So, don’t feel like you have to have some kind of value to me in order to be worth saving.”

A smile flashed over his face. “I was correct about your kindness. You were a good choice. But I shall still try to help you, because I wish to repay kindness with kindness. Merely because I want to, not because I feel I must.”

“Good,” you said. “That was your first lesson on being a human. And if you want to help you, you can help me with breakfast.”

He rose eagerly off the couch and followed you into the kitchen. Warmth and happiness flooded your chest and you couldn’t help but grin at him. Perhaps this sort of automation wasn’t so awful.

#exophilia #robot #robot lover #robot boyfriend #AI #AI lover #not my best work #but it's been a rough week so like #just take it and I'll make something better next week

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

Text

Justice League #1 (1987)

This is actually a more impressive line-up than I remember.

I'm pretty sure this line-up is a huge scam. I don't remember Doctor Fate interacting too much with this group and I think Shazam bows out fairly quickly. Batman probably does that thing where he acts like he's leader (even if Martian Manhunter actually is) and only helps out every sixth mission. So at that point, the line-up is already decreasing in strength and intimidation factor quickly. Adding Fire, Ice, and Booster Gold later won't really improve the team much. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My impressions from this initial cover were "Wow! Pretty interesting team!" and "What asshole fucking decided on the shit stencil font for the title?" Sorry, I cuss a lot when I'm writing on the Internet and trying to seem like a bad-ass. The issue begins with Guy Gardner calling the other Green Lanterns jerks and suggesting, to himself, that he should be the Commander-in-Chief of the new Justice League. Some people would read this first page and think, "What an arrogant fucking asshole." But my stomach got all queasy and I giggled a little bit and I muttered quietly under my breath, "I love him."

I'm not saying it isn't composed of some truly ridiculous aspects but Guy still has the best costume in the DC Universe.

I don't love everything about Guy Gardner because most writers at the time didn't truly understand him. They made him a jerk that nobody would like because they were too cold-hearted to see the brain damaged cool guy that he really was. Guy Gardner often needed to be written by somebody who loved the character; it would have done him a world of good. He could still have been that abrasive jerk. But written deftly, those who actually cared to take the time would see his true self. Sure, that would also be an abrasive jerk! But a little bit more likable!

Stallone was pretty sensitive in a few scenes in Rocky IV!

Black Canary is second to arrive, after which Mister Miracle and Oberon show up. I never quite understood how Oberon fit into the Justice League. Wasn't he like an agent or a manager? Did Batman and Martian Manhunter need Oberon to sign off on every mission or else Scott Free would have to remain behind? I bet he was included just so Giffen and DeMatteis could make dwarf jokes.

Why would Guy choose Sneezy?! Oberon's breathing has been impeccable since he arrived!

Normally after some kind of cynical prediction about the comic book that immediately is proved true, I'd write, "Grandmaster Comic Book Reader!" But it doesn't feel right to say it in this case. I mean, Oberon is present for four panels before he becomes the butt of a joke based on his diminutive nature. And by Guy Gardner, no less! Is this why I loved him so much at sixteen?! What a terrible and typical sixteen year old white heterosexual male I was! Black Canary (whose costume I'm just now noticing is really fucking weird) responds to Guy's awful behavior by saying, "Dozens of GLs around and we get 'Rambo' with a ring!" That's unfair to Rambo! I'm also unsure who in this story (including the writers of this story) have actually seen First Blood. Gardner is more like the authority mad Sheriff Teasle than the sensitive green beret John Rambo! Rambo should be admired as a hero, battling back against corrupt cops who think they have the right to use as much force as they want for any stupid fucking reason! It's possible they were talking about the Rambo from the second film who gets to kill more than one person because the people he's killing are Russians and Vietnamese. He does get a bit murder crazy in the second film. Or maybe they're talking about Rambo from the third film which wasn't actually out yet so I don't have to read up on it. Next to arrive are Captain Marvel, Blue Beetle, and Martian Manhunter. Martian Manhunter proves to be a buzzkill, reminding everybody how the old series ended in total death and disaster.

His view of the media is pretty spot on though.

J'onn calls up the files of Steel, Gypsy, Vixen, and Vibe before purging them completely from the Justice League computer. That's probably a good idea, like deleting old joke tweets on Twitter that were a bit racist and also boring. Meanwhile Maxwell Lord IV watches from a distance, doing that Ozymandias thing where you watch dozens of televisions at once. I think it proves you're a genius whose done the research and contemplated all sides of an issue before making up your totally rational and logical mind about any issue. As opposed to us losers who simply use compassion and empathy to almost immediately understand the correct and most ethical path to take. Maxwell Lord IV watches all of this television and decides the correct course to take is to leave the "America" off of the Justice League of America this time. Oh, and also the "of".

Maybe this is why I liked Guy so much: because he knew the saying was "you've got another think coming." Look, I'm going to be desperately finding good reasons to have liked Guy Gardner so much when Giffen and DeMatteis are this determined to make him a huge and unlikable jerk.

Look, I was sixteen! Hardly the best time in a young man's life for qualities like compassion and empathy and fashion sense and hair styles! I'm also fairly certain it wasn't this comic book that made me like him so much. I'm pretty sure he gets knocked out by Batman with one punch before the year is over and I remember loving that scene. So I probably despised him like a good reader of Justice League was supposed to do. Hopefully he'll have some character moments during this series that will show why I wound up liking him so much as a character. Right now, he's just a complete and utter asshole. The five panels following the one I just scanned consist of Guy once again calling Oberon "Sneezy" and then suggesting Black Canary is going to want to fuck him soon enough. Martian Manhunter tries to break it up and just winds up part of the chaos.

Okay, I'm starting to get why I might have liked him at sixteen, even after the first few pages. To a sixteen year old white male, mocking Martian Manhunter with a "Ho-ho-ho" trumps ableism, sexism, and, with this attack on J'onn for his inherent physical Martianness, almost certainly racism as well.

Guy continues to play the role of Squeaky Wheel for another page or two. I suppose if you want more on-panel time than the other heroes, you've got to be a raging asshole. I can't say I'm not entertained by it!

Captain Marvel earns a little of my love with this line as well. No shame in drinking warm milk at night!

This is only nine pages into the first issue and Guy has completely derailed the formation of the new Justice League. Was this blasphemy to previous fans of the Justice League where the team may have had some minor squabbles about various things and Batman would quit every six issues but mostly they didn't break out into brawls whenever they got together? Or were internal struggles and arguments a regular plot point? I have no idea because the only Justice League comics I read previous to this title were the terrible months where everything was breaking down and then Steel betrayed them and Vibe was killed off and Martian Manhunter felt like a huge failure. Although was Aquaman leading the team at the time? I dislike Aquaman so much, I'm just going to believe he was leading the team and that's why everything completely fell apart. He sucks. Once per day, I think about that lousy meme trying to prove Aquaman wasn't useless by using the image from New 52 Justice League where he controls a bunch of great whites to breach and kill a bunch of parademons and I hate everybody who actually thought that was a cool moment. Batman and Doctor Fate arrive in the middle of the Justice League brawl (which even Martian Manhunter, the only adult in the room, is taken part in) and shuts shit down The Batman way.

I guess heroes are also a cowardly lot.

Meanwhile, Doctor Light winds up being held hostage with the rest of the United Nations by some white terrorists. I felt I needed to say they were white because a lot of racist assholes can only envision terrorists one way. Also, I should always describe people as white when they're white since I don't want to be an accomplice to maintaining a world where we assume a person mentioned is white, male, and heterosexual unless they're described more fully. Doctor Light was given a Justice League emergency beeper by a mysterious figure some time previously. This isn't revealed but I just read Justice League Spectacular #1 so I know Maxwell Lord gave her the device so that she could alert the Justice League when the United Nations was taken hostage by terrorists that Maxwell Lord IV paid. It's all about getting some early press! There's an advert for the new Flash which I'm surprised I didn't pick up since the advert shows him having some kind of accident in a sperm bank.

Ew Flash is right!

The Justice League head over to stop the terrorist attack. At some point, Doctor Fate disappears to go do something else and I think he never comes back? Is that why I barely remember him as a part of this league? Was he just there to look cool on the cover and fool all the lovers of DC magic users? The League storms the UN, murdering several terrorists.

Look. Manhunter either phased their heads into the solid ceiling or he smashed their skulls straight through the roof. Either way, I don't see a high percentage chance of their survival.

The Justice League capture all the terrorists and then Batman has the building evacuated, leaving just the leader of the terrorists alone in the United Nations building threatening to kill himself so that the bomb attached to his heart would detonate and kill them all. He does kill himself but the bomb doesn't detonate. And the thing is, Batman realized during the mission that the bomb was almost certainly a bluff. So he left the man alone to kill himself. Later we discover the man had a history of mental illness. So this, to Batman, is justice? Batman almost certainly realized the man was being manipulated and that he'd definitely kill himself to blow the bomb and Batman let the man do it. Batman is a fucking monster. After the event, the media points out that the terrorists were mostly composed of 60s radical groups like the Weathermen and the Black Panthers. Which is odd because there wasn't one black terrorist in the bunch. The issue ends with Max Lord talking to himself and admitting to being the one who staged the terrorist attack. He also knew the leader was unstable enough to kill himself for the cause and he sent him in with a bomb that definitely wouldn't blow. So he's a fucking monster as well. And Martian Manhunter is a monster, not because he's a weirdo martian, but because he basically popped the heads on a few of the terrorists. No way will I believe those guys hanging from the ceiling by their necks survived! All in all, Guy Gardner is starting to look like a rational member of this group! Justice League #1 Rating: B+. A better than average start to the new Justice League, building some intrigue and conflict right from the start. Who is Max Lord? What are his plans for the Justice League? Why is he acting like it's his group? Will Doctor Fate ever return? Will Oberon poison Guy Gardner? Will Black Canary and Doctor Light become best friends because they're the only women in the League? Will Guy Gardner and Batman ever come to blows? I can answer that! They will not! They'll just come to blow. One punch by Batman. And that one punch causes some severe psychological trauma to Gardner and nobody thinks he should get medical help simply because he starts acting nicer. They're all fucking monsters!

#Justice League #Kevin Maguire #Keith Giffen #J.M. DeMatteis #Terry Austin

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wifeofkimtaehyungofbts · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Synopsis: How do you help someone with their emotions if you don’t feel emotions? When your brother’s best friend dies in a tragic car accident and he spirals downwards in depression, you devote yourself to helping him out of his misery. But when his other best friend becomes suicidal following the loss, it isn’t merely about helping them. It’s about saving them.

Word count: 1500+

*****

Monday morning came by fast. I stood in the kitchen waiting for the toaster to do its thing, adjusting my long beige coat over the navy-blue shirt and white denims hugging my figure. Jungkook strolls into the kitchen sleepily, his hair a soft mess.

I smile at the sight of him. “Good morning sleepy head”

He looks up at me but ignores my greeting. He walks over to the table and adjusts himself on the stool as he leans over, grabbing an apple and biting into the hardness with a loud crunch that bounces against the too quiet kitchen walls. I stare at him as I process his state.

My brother has always been overly protective of me; taking care of me day in and day out and putting my happiness over his at any point in his life. He has never behaved in any way unpleasant or disapproving to me. From his no-good-morning to him ignoring my presence, bothered me more than it should.

“Kookie” I say. “I’m making toast butter bread for us”

He doesn’t even lift his head to look at me. A frown settles on my brows as I make my way to him. I stand a few feet away from him and place a head on his shoulder.

“Dude, what’s with the low energy? What’s up with you this morning?” I ask, concerned.

He roughly shrugs my hand off as he looks at me with one eye, the other covered by his thick bangs.

“Low energy?” he asks in his gruff morning voice. “I didn’t know sad people had to keep up bright appearances” he chuckles sarcastically.

I blink several times, swallowing hard. It’s only been a week, Y/N. How could you expect him to have recovered already?

Feeling like a complete jackass, I run my fingers through his messy bed hair. “You should stay in today, without going to work” I smile warmly.

“That was the plan anyway, you didn’t have to tell me” he stands up, my arm falling to my side as I watch him walk away and disappear around the corner of the hallway. I stand there, feeling empty and lonely after experiencing a new side of my brother I’ve never before had the unfortune to meet.

***

Carrying a mountain of files up six flights of stairs because the elevator was under maintenance was not an easy feat for someone in 4-inch-high heels and a too-tight pencil skirt. Too bad for me, I had to change out of my beautifully fitting white pants this morning when I was mindlessly making coffee for the first time just for me instead of for both Jungkook and I. I reached over for my coffee mug and ending up knocking it over my lap with the back of my hand. The hot darkness soaked the pure white of my pants and before I could scream, it had already drawn maps across my pants. I changed into a pencil skirt a size too small and now I’m suffering the consequences of choosing style over comfort with my attire.

I make my way step by step painfully up the stairs, barely being able to stretch my legs to lift them over each stair.

“May I help you?” I hear a deep voice from in front of me. I groan and grunt as my tired arms attempt to move the files out of my sight so I can see the man standing before me. A weight is suddenly lifted off my arms and I gasp loudly, staring at the face of my savior. Before me stands a very tall, handsome man with soft cheeks and brown hair parted at the side. I have to remind myself to stop staring because that is all you can do at the sight of this very handsome man.

“Uh...” I try to find my words lost in my head cramped with inappropriate thoughts of this man.

He cocks an eyebrow at me and the gesture has me tumbling backwards mentally before I scold myself to get a grip. “I actually have to get these to floor 3 within the next 3mins” I mumble.

The man smiles gently at me, his eyes turning into crescents. He turns on his heel and takes long strides, taking two steps at a time as he swiftly makes his way up to the third floor. I take much longer to reach the third floor, but when I do, I find him standing there waiting for me.

“It needs to be dropped off at Jin’s desk” I say, already making my way to the table at the very end belonging to the most handsome man in our company, Kim Seokjin. As I approach him, he lifts his head from the stack of papers he had it buried in. His plump lips turn upwards in a warm smile as his sparkling eyes take in my presence. Jin takes off his round glasses and straightens himself in the seat. He rolls back his wide, muscular shoulders and cracks his neck.

“It’s been a crazy week y/n” he sighs, holding the back of his thick neck.

“I bet! You look rather exhausted” I take note of the bags under his eyes and red nose, probably from staying up all night in the soon approaching winter and waking up too early.

I turn to the man behind me who is already placing the files on top of Jin’s desk. Jin watches as the man scrunches his nose when he clumsily placed the files, knocking over Jin’s pencil holder. Pens and highlighters sprawl across Jin’s desk and he can only sigh at this obvious behavior from the embarrassed man in front of him.

“Namjoon Namjoon Namjoon” Jin shakes his head. “How many times have I told you not to be so quick with your movements if you know you are clumsy beyond fixing?”

Jin pinches the bridge of his nose as he picks up the colourful mess in front of him.

“Sorry I was just trying to help this pretty lady” Namjoon scratches the side of his head.

Namjoon.

And he called me pretty!

I have to mentally slap myself out of this new found, fascinating information as I finish placing the files in order on top of Jin’s desk.

“Thank you for helping me” I bow to Namjoon and Jin before heading off back downstairs to the comfort of my own desk, away from the eyes of two handsome men out of my league.

***

The rest of the day goes by too slowly, work after work piling onto my lap as I try my best to finish them all off so I don’t have to take my work home. I am strict on keeping my personal life and professional life as separate as possible.

As I type fast, my mind wanders to my brother away from the tap tap tap of my fingers on the black keyboard. I wanted to call him, ask him how he’s holding up and whether he wants me to cook for him tonight or he would want to do it by himself as he does on most nights. I conclude with take away on my way home after deciding with myself.

I reach for my mobile phone to call him and decide against it. He probably wants to be left alone.

Opening a new tab on my search engine, I type HOW TO COMFORT SOMEONE AFTER THEY EXPERIENCE A LOSS.

Articles pop up from blogs, newspapers, magazines and even from question-answer platforms. I skim through most of them but is left dissatisfied. They all talk of being there for them and listening to their worries so they do not collect their frustrations but none of it is relatable to me. For someone who doesn’t feel emotions like normal people.

How can I be there for my brother or empathize with his internal frustrations if I cannot comprehend the mere situation itself? I know Taehyung meant a lot to him, being one of his first best friends and helping my brother come out of his introverted shell. But I do not understand how much he meant to my brother. How lost and torn my brother feels over his passing. I have never felt such strong emotions and the only loss I have experienced was my father and I do not recall being torn and devastated over it. I was sad, obviously, but not lost nor did I hide inside a shell unwilling to move with the world and move on with my life.

I sigh as I stare at the smiling sticker in the upper right corner of my office computer. Oh, how wonderful it must feel to feel so deeply! My mind wanders as I think about if I may ever get to experience such overwhelming emotions as pure bliss or utter terror.

***

Previous / Next

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #BTS jimin #BTS jungkook #park jimin #bts jimin x reader #bts jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #Steadfast

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writingkeepsmewhole · 4 years

Text

A Little Messed Up

This is part 19 of Betrayal. I never thought this story would be this long but here we are haha. I had fun writing this. Wasn’t planing to have smut in it at all but it just kinda happened so enjoy that.

Fic Summary: Rebecca gets outta rehab for the weekend.

Dean Winchester x OC Scarlet

Warnings:smut, language, cheating.

Taglist Would love to add you: @thewinchesterchronicles @amandamaesweetheart @scarlettreneem @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @vicmc624 @lemondropirwin @mrbillymontgomery @all-will-be-well-love

Part 1 Part 18

I walked down the steps messing with my hair as the doorbell rang for the third time.

“Babe can you please get that!” I called out to Dean only dressed in a towel.

Sam and Dean’s dad was coming to visit them and I was trying to get dressed.

“Yeah.” He yells back moving to the front door from setting up in the living room.

I turned to head back upstairs but stopped when a familiar voice filled my ears.

“Took you long enough.” Rebecca says, making me turn to see her standing there. Sam stood behind her.

She wraps her arms around him hugging him tightly.

Sam looks up at me from his stoop. His eyes apologizing to me for the unexpected surprise I’m guessing.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asks, taking a step away from her. Shock on his face.

“They let me out!” She says grinning at him.

“Well for the weekend. For good behavior.” She says moving to walk deeper into the house, stopping when she sees me.

I feel my heart pound being only dressed in a towel.

“Scarlet what are you doing here?” She asks, looking me up and down.

“Uh we are having a party here tonight she came here to get right?” Sam says quickly stepping into the house.

“Right, I was going to help set up after I got dressed.”

“Oh. A party? For what?”

“It’s more of just a get together. Dad is coming to stay at the house for the weekend.”

“Oh that’ll be fun.” She says smiling but it didn’t reach her eyes.

It was no secret how she felt about John and John about her. He saw through her fake smile and lies.

“Well I’m gonna go finish getting dressed.” I say heading back up the stairs.

‘This is gonna be one of those days.’ I think knowing that there would be a fight before the night was over.

I go into the bedroom shutting the door and start getting dressed. I jump when the door swings open Rebecca and Dean standing there.

I was only dressed in a black thong and matching bra.

“Oh my gosh Scarlet what are you doing in here.” She says shoving Dean back trying to block him from seeing me.

“Well I was getting dressed. You could have knocked.” I say grabbing my red sweater dress off the bed.

“Why are you in our room?”

“I needed to use the shower.” I say pulling the dress over my head.

“Why didn’t you use the guest shower?”

I shrug knowing exactly why. I used this bathroom everyday. It is a habit now.

“You can let go of Dean’s face now.” I say moving to sit on the bed.

I look on the floor for my shoes realizing that they are not where I left them.

“Dean have you seen my shoes?” I ask without even thinking about it.

“Which ones?” He asks walking past Rebecca and into the bedroom.

“The black ones.”

“Sw- Scar almost all your shoes are black.” He stumbles over his words.

I cock an eyebrow at him wondering where that came from. His ears pink, showing me he was embarrassed.

Standing up I move to look under the bed, coming up empty.

“The ones I wore to the park.” I say sitting up to look up at him.

I watch the lightbulb go off in his head, a smirk settling on his face as he remembers what shoes and park I was talking about.

“They are by the couch.”

“Thank you.” I say standing up from the floor and leaving the room.

I walk down stairs to see Sam is still there, him setting beer in the fridge.

“Hey I figured you would have left.” I say walking into the living room and slipping on my black flats.

“Dean told me to do this.” He says holding up two beer bottles.

“Oh fun, well you can go I got it. Just be back at five John said he will be here at six.” I was already done with my makeup and hair so I was free to do everything else.

“Okay.” He says nodding then stops and looks at me.

“Sorry about Becca she kinda -.”

“Pulled a Becca?”

“Yeah called me saying she needed a ride here that Dean knew everything about it. I see she lied.”

“That’s what she does.” I say unwrapping the new punch bowls I just bought this morning.

“Don’t lie to me!” Becca screams as she comes down the steps.

Her in a rage as she stomps her way into the kitchen. I didn’t even get a word out before she slapped me hard across the face.

“You bitch!” She screams.

“What the hell?” I ask, holding my cheek looking at her then at Dean.

“Why is your stuff here? Don’t you lie to me either.”

“Well I live here.” I say deciding it was best to tell the truth.

“Why? Are you sleeping with my husband?” She asks that crazy look in her eyes.

“She didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Dean says calmly from behind her.

“What are you talking about?”

“She lost her job and apartment, do you want her to live on the streets?” Dean asks moving so he was on my side of the island.

“She moved in with Ruby.”

“Yeah then Sam moved in.” I say knowing it was bad to keep up this lie that I was acting a lot like Becca knew but it was clear Dean didn’t want to tell her yet so I wasn’t going to.

“Here?”

“No he moved in with Ruby they are together now and I got tired of not getting any sleep.” I say seeing Sam blush out of the corner of my eye.

“So I moved in here.”

“How long?”

“A few months.”

“Is that why it looks like you threw up everywhere?” She asks looking around looking at the clean organized kitchen.

“I mean it looks like a house ad in here.”

“Well I wanted it clean for the party tonight.”

“Right well I believe you. Thanks for keeping Dean in line for me.”

“Yeah no problem.”

Dean snorts and moves to the fridge getting a hand full of ice then a wet rag. I jump when I feel him press it into my cheek.

“You're messing up my makeup.” I whine at him.

“Yeah well a bruised face will do that too.”

“You suck.” I say knowing he is right.

“Well what do you want me to do?” Becca asks.

“Go get dressed. I got the rest.” I say knowing it will take her the remaining two hours to get ready.

“Alright.” She says heading back upstairs.

“Well that was exciting.” I say after she is gone.

“You okay?” Dean asks, turning my head to face him.

“Yeah just feel like crap.” I say taking the rag off my face.

“About what?”

“Lying to her.��

“We’ll tell her.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.” He says kissing my nose.

“Fine, let's just pray tonight goes well.”

“We’ll see.” He says grinning.

It was around seven when Becca came back down stairs. Everyone was already here. But everyone I mean John, Kate, Adam, Sam, Ruby, and Bobby.

We were all chatting around in the kitchen as I finished up dinner.

“Look who decided to join us.” John says making everyone stop talking and look to see Rebecca walking into the kitchen.

She was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and boots. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she had very light make up one. It made me wonder what took her so long.

“Hey everyone.” She says waving, smiling at us.

“Hey Becca.” I say smiling at her and pulling the ham out of the oven.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, just grab a drink and have fun.” I say barely noticing as Dean takes the ham from me and heads to the dining room.

“That smells amazing.” Ruby says the following after him.

“Did you make fries?” She asks, stopping and turning to face me.

“No Ruby fries go with burgers not everything.”

“That’s not true we can’t be friends now.”

Laughing at her I get the different sides off the stove everyone heading towards the table. With a few extra seats pulled up we were tightly packed in around it.

With Dean at the head of the table and his father on the other end. We file around them. I barely think about sitting to the right of him.

Becca sitting across from me.

Meeting the eyes of John he lifts an eyebrow looking at the picture before him.

‘Sorry.’ I mouth at him earning a smile and a nod.

I definitely felt awkward but no one else seemed that way. The conversation flowed with ease. Even Rebecca seemed to be in a good mood. But my stomach wouldn’t settle.

Deciding to excuse myself instead of kill the mood I head up stairs.

I walk into the bedroom as a cold sweat washes over my body. With a flip of my stomach I quickly rushed into the bathroom just in time to throw up everything I just ate.

I sit on the cold tile floor for a moment, my head pounding. Hearing laughter down stairs I push myself on my feet. I flush the toilet and walk over to the sink.

Taking a breath I look at myself in the mirror.

‘She doesn't know no one is going to tell her.’ I tell myself, my nerves frade.

I finish brushing my teeth just as Dean walks into the bathroom. Leaning on the door frame he knocks on the open door.

“You okay?” He asks, looking me up and down.

“Yeah.” I say smiling at him through the mirror.

“You don’t seem it.”

“Just nervous.”

“About?” He asks looking down at the floor then back up at me.

“Becca.”

“You think she knows?” He asks, pushing himself off the wall and walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around my middle..

“She suspects.” I say meeting his reflection.

“We’ll fix it.” He says kissing the side of my head, his hands inching up my thighs.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he starts lifting my dress, him bending down to kiss my neck.

“Helping you relax.”

“Dean we can’t do this.” I say my head dropping to the side.

“Who says?” He asks, pushing my dress up on my hips.

“I did. There is a party going on.”

“So they won’t miss us.” He says sliding his hand over my mound. I let out a gasp when he started rubbing me through my thong.

“Yes they will.”

“Not for five minents.” He smirks at me and starts kissing my neck.

“We both know you last longer than that.” I gasp out as he moves the thin material to the side giving him full access to my most private part.

He doesn't respond only grins wickedly at my reflection as he grinds on my backside. His hardness made it easy to feel through his jeans. I bite my lip as he pushes two fingers inside me and starts pumping them. Pleasure courses through me making it hard to think. With my last shred of sanity I try to reason with him once again.

“Dean we-.”

“Shh.” He cuts me off pulling his fingers from me and lifting them up to my mouth.

I blush but open my mouth sucking and licking them clean. As I do that I watch and feel him free his cock.

He pushes into me not giving me time to get used to him as he starts to thrust. I let out a gasp as he stretches and fills me with pain for a moment but quickly melts away to pleasure. He drops his hand from my mouth to my throat.

A round of endorphins shoot through my body as he wraps his fingers around my neck and squeezes. He pulls me back against him and picks up his pace making me tighten around him. Turning my head to face him he kisses me roughly. I smile into the heat that is building between us so fast it burns. Using my throat to keep me pend to his body his other hand drops to play with my clit.

Dean was right, all he needed was five minutes to get me off and himself. From being rough handled it doesn't take long for me to crash into orgasm Dean joining me.

He lets me ride out my high pulling away from me slowly.

I feel my knees buckle him grabbing me helping me sit on the sink counter.

I blink taking a breath as my heart rate returns to normal.

“Okay, I’m good.” I say more to myself than anything.

“Feel better?” He asks, smirking as he puts himself back in proper order.

“Much.” I say full of the love drug.

“Good.” He says walking between my legs and taking my face in his hands.

Bending down not by much he presses his lips to mine. This kiss soft him gently sucking my bottom lip between his. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him back. It is lazy and slow but sweet.

Pulling away from me he kisses my nose.

“Fix yourself up I’ll tell everyone you're okay.” He says smiling and leaving me alone.

Dropping off the counter I turn around to face myself not shocked to see lipstick smeared and my neck red.

‘At least my hair is still intact.’ I wonder if he left it alone on proupus.

I wipe my lipstick off and start redoing it.

“Hey is everything okay?” Rebecca’s voice fills my ears but she is in the bedroom.

I start to answer her till Dean beats me to it.

“Yeah, something just didn’t agree with her. She is good now.” He says I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Scarlet you okay?” Rebecca says walking into the bathroom.

“Yeah.” I say turning to face her. I looking as if nothing happened expect for a flushed face.

“Just got sick to my stomach.”

“Did you puke? You look red.” She says walking up to me and touching my forehead.

“You have a fever, you might be getting sick.”

“Maybe, but let's head back down stairs.” I say not used to her being nice it also made me feel guilty when she was.

“Alright.” She says, us three returning back down the steps everyone still wrapped around the table.

I sit back down, Dean sitting beside me.

“Everything okay?” Kate asks, smiling at us.

“Yeah, I’m just a little messed up right now.” I say it being the truest thing I've said today.

“Oh?” She asks, looking worried.

I push my plate away from me and nod.

“Must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.”

It was a lie but everyone accepted it. It being the first time I puked because of my nervousness but I wasn’t about to tell them that.

We would tell Rebecca tomorrow and everything would fall apart and nothing would be the same. I would lose Dean and my sister but it was the right thing to do wasn't it? Yeah I hit the nail on the head this time.

I was a little messed up.

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always5hineee · 4 years

Text

Hell and Back- Chapter 22: Geared Up (Trial 30)

Word count: 1282

Chapter warnings: Dangerous actions

[Please do not replicate any of the behaviors read in this book.]

-----

"Are you insane?" Suho asked incredulously. "You didn't even check who the limited ability was! Or what the dropout fee was set to! Or-"

"Does it even matter?" She cut him off. "I have to do the trial either way. If it's really that important to you..." She checked it briefly. "The limited ability is Kai, and the fee is still the same. So stop freaking out."

"What is the trial?" He asked, glaring at her.

"What?"

"The trial. What do you have to do?" Reading it, she swallowed, saying,

"To ride on the hood of the car while it's driving. And in the italics it mentions that you have to be doing at least fifty."

"Are you kidding me, Y/N?" Kyungsoo asked. "That's insane, you're not doing it."

"Uh, yes I am." She said, staring at him. "We just went to an illegal underground fighting arena and punched a cop, I'm gonna sit on the hood of a damn car."

"There's a lot of car ones." Lay muttered in observation.

"I'll drive." Kris said.

"You are not condoning her doing this!" Suho argued with him, but he came to her defense,

"She's right, it's our fault for not letting her do the earlier ones. We should have had her take the first two if we didn't want this to happen. If she wants to drop out, I wouldn't blame her, but if she's going to do it, let her do it!"

"She's going to get herself killed." He snarled.

"I can heal any injuries that might occur." Lay offered,

"And I still have the ability to reverse time, if I have to." Tao said as well.

"...Have you?" Chen asked after a moment.

"Huh?"

"Have you had to reverse time? I mean, we wouldn't remember, right?"

"Well, no, I guess you wouldn't..." Tao said, but then held up a hand. "No worries, though, I would tell you if something went wrong, I promise."

"The point is, I'm doing the trial." Y/N said with an air of finality. "Kris will drive, and if any of you have a problem with it, too bad. Now get out of the car." The boys filed out one by one after her, Suho the last to leave the vehicle. He leaned over to whisper something to Kris, but she couldn't quite pick it up. Finally, he too exited. She went to go sit on the hood, the metal warm against the back of her legs. As she did so, though, Kris got out of the car too.

"Hold on, you can still do the challenge without being stupid. I have a bunch of stuff in the back, I'm sure I have bungee cords or ropes we can use to make sure you'll stay on the car."

"It's really not-"

"I didn't ask." He said, moving around to the trunk as the audience of boys watched him. Sure enough, he did have some tethers lying around. They were bright orange and clearly not new, but they would suffice. Making sure that they wouldn't interfere with the function of the car, he hooked them onto the vehicle, loosely draping them over her body.

"Sit however you want to be sitting when we go, just make sure you're not blocking the windshield too much." She nodded in agreement, slightly adjusting her position. It wasn't the most comfortable, but she had the most contact with the car as possible. Making sure he was okay with the way she was laying, he picked up the clasp of the ropes, tightening them over her. They were uncomfortably wrapped around her as he double checked them, but he would rather be safe than sorry.

"Alright, let's hit the road."

"Shouldn't we come with you?" Suho asked.

"No." Is all Kris said before getting in the vehicle, turning it on, and slowly pulling out. It was dark, so hopefully no one would notice anything strange. Since they only had to go fifty, they didn't technically have to get on the highway.

"Everything alright?" He asked, yelling so that she could hear him. He had opened the windows, but the glass was still making his voice a little bit muffled.

"Yeah," she yelled back, giving a thumbs up, "Just go ahead!" He nodded, watching the group of boys fade away in his rearview mirror. Once he was on a two lane road, he began picking up speed, trying to get up to fifty as quickly as possible so that they didn't have to drive for too long. Her body was pushed into the hood by the wind as it heated up, engine vibrating below. Her eyes squinted as he passed other cars on the left, unsure of how fast they were going. Her eyes were stinging in the city night air, so much that she could barely see the stoplight change to yellow as they came up on it.

Eyes widening, Kris slammed on the brakes, trying to make sure they wouldn't get a camera ticket for running the light. He wasn't aware of the momentum this would cause for her, though. Practically getting thrown forward at fifty miles an hour, the ropes constricted her around the middle, arms and legs outstretched hovering an inch or two over the metal. The car stopped, slamming her back down into the hood as she cried out in pain. Flicking the hazards on, Kris jumped out of the car, running to her side.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" He asked in a loud, slightly shaking voice. She'd never heard him raise his voice above annoying or angry, but now he seemed genuinely concerned. Unfortunately, she was in too much pain to say anything. "Okay, uh, I- I don't- alright, look, we'll just bring you to a doctor! That's it, there must be a hostpital-" She frantically shook her head, gripping her midsection.

"You can't, the trials- find Lay-"

"Um- yeah, yeah okay, that makes sense-" Untying her, he picked her up off the hood, hooking one arm under her shoulder blades and the other under her knees. Her skin was overly warm on his hands, still a glaring red from the heat of the car. Opening the car door awkwardly, he laid her down in the middle row, shutting it behind her and jumping back in the driver's seat. She groaned as he pulled a U-turn, speeding back to where the group was waiting. Jumping out of the car, he tried to explain what was going on as the boys gathered around in curiosity.

"You have to do something Lay-" he was saying, waving his arms in a panic, "I think she broke a rib-". Walking over to the car calmly, he leaned over her, lifting up her shirt just enough to see her stomach. Laying his hands over her skin, he shut his eyes, the boys falling into a dead hush. Her face slowly changed from pained to passive, breathing normalizing. As soon as he was done, Lay took a deep breath, wiping his brow and standing back up.

"It was just a cracked rib, and I think a few minor burns." Sitting up as well, Y/N stretched her arms, flitting her fingers over her side.

"Thank you, Lay. That's way better..."

"This is why I didn't want you doing these!" Suho said, tone nearing that of a strict parent. "How am I supposed to live with myself if you get hurt?" She knew he was trying to be nice, he was just looking out for her, and seeing her get hurt was making him crazy. Still, she wasn't quite over his savior complex. Pulling out her phone, she simply said,

"Too bad."

Go to Chapter 23

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