#im choosing to believe it's the second against all evidence because that makes me more emotional | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojology · 4 years

Text

Job Benefits. (Part One)

new beginnings ‧₊˚✩彡. - chapter one.

you can find part two here : part two : undesirable

pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader

warnings : cursing

wordcount : 1960

a/n : something that i’ve been working on for a while now. this is self indulgent as all hell and i’m starting a new series n idk when it’ll end necessarily but ceo gojo is all i need in my life. also i have like 300 million requests to go through but i PROMISE i’ll get them done! i just need to finish my valentines event thingy and i’ll be open!

it has come to my attention that gojo is his surname and i’m too lazy to fix anything other then the first name basis part im so sorry LOl

It’s no secret that you like working the office. Even as a child you enjoyed the formal atmosphere when you walked into your parent’s workplace, and even better, you enjoyed organizing stuff. Growing up, your favorite pass time was cleaning and organizing which caused you to excel in school, coupled with your natural smarts. Your peers would constantly tease you, telling you that you were a boring kid- but hey, you’d be making lots of money, and what better job would there be for you, aside from being someone’s secretary? Those were the first words that came across your mind as soon as you stepped into the prestigious building, heels rhythmically hitting the stainless floor, suitcase in hand. It was also the first lie that you’d tell yourself in there. You had known about this company even as a child. One that sold just about everything, the most notable being luxurious clothing, but something the company was also well known for? How attractive the family was. Sure it was a bit weird, but in defense of the general public their appearances were rare, only once in a while you’d see the family on TV. Waving in their limousine, blowing kisses and doing things rich people do, or maybe ignoring the cheering crowd of journalists and news reporters, hell like you knew. Catching glimpses of the wildly white haired family was something every paparazzi threw themselves at, and picking up a magazine or going to search something on the internet would be sure to be chock full of pictures of the esteemed family. The highlight of the family being the son, just because of how handsome he was, and also happened to be the most publicly known and fawned over family member- Gojo fucking Satoru. Luckily for you, he was your boss, so you could probably reveal the tiniest of secrets and make major bank. Unluckily for you, he was childish as all hell, not to mention you found childish people incredibly annoying. The worst thing? You were his secretary. That could only spell out doom for a man like him, and a woman like you, who only wanted to get business done and nothing else. You two truly did not mix. Two months prior, you had gotten the job and was finally excited to have stable income after graduating. Your hirers didn’t tell you anything about having to babysit a manchild though. And so, that’s how you found yourself sitting in the comfortable plush leather office chair, fumbling under the piles of paperwork and fan letters, cursing your boss’s name under your breath for being so unconcerned with work. Scheduling appointments, interviews, sending e-mails of unacceptance to eager authors asking to write an auto-biography, that was your life. You’d be content with it if your boss was normal. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s like he heard you think. “(Y/N)-chan~!” you hear a familiar sing-songy voice down the rather short hallway. Your office resided right next to his, and it would only take him 30 seconds or so to walk down to your door, presumably to annoy the hell out of you. You grunt, blowing a stray hair out of your face. This also meant that you could hear him sing from his office, even through the thick walls. Choosing to ignore it, you instead furiously typed to another business executive’s secretary who had just emailed you about a meeting between Gojo and- well you weren’t quite sure who. “(Y/N)-chan~ I know you hear me, don’t you know it’s disrespectful to not listen to your seniors?” his playful, deep voice was growing closer, and you straighten your back, sighing. You didn’t sign up to be a daycare worker, yet this was what you found yourself doing most of the time. “I’m sorry, Satoru-sama, please instill me with your great knowledge, oh wise one.” rolling your eyes and rubbing your temples, you glance up from your laptop, bracing yourself for whatever would happen next. Gojo leaned on the frame of your door, head ducking slightly. He was way too tall to walk under it without any issue. He was unnecessarily calm though, normally he’d be jumping around your office, making a mess of things, but his body language told otherwise. He was slacking off from his duties, obviously, so you weren’t too sure why he’d be acting so... Chill. With his arms crossed, he gave you a mischievous side eye. Growing impatient, you stand up, your knuckles grinding against the tabletop. Your brow knitted together as he peered down on you, almost tauntingly, and you hated it. “Listen, boss. I have a lot to do today, for you, might I add as I am your secretary- and if you’re going to sit around I don’t think I’ll get to these emails and phone calls and everything fast enough. May I kindly assist you with anything? If not I’ll have to ask you to go back to... Whatever you were doing.” Gojo looked at you, wide-eyed and unblinking, like he didn’t expect such a sassy remark. “Oh my, sweetie. Someone has a naughty mouth... To your boss of all people? How mean! I don’t think I remember putting, ‘allowed to be rude to the Satoru clan’ down on the job benefits.. What’s with the formal tone as well? So unnecessary, just be yourself when you’re talking to me.” He sauntered closer to your desk, and your breath hitched, this was one of the first times you’d seen him up close like this, and you swore that you could hear your heart beating rapidly inside of your chest. You don’t know what that could mean; but what you did know was that you wanted to slap him or punch a hole into the glass window right behind you and throw him off the 15 floor building. Leaning in close to your ear, he whispered: “Or, if you wanna stick with the business voice- call me sir. Got that?” You nod before looking down at your desk, feeling your body heat up for seemingly no particular reason. Did this guy have any knowledge of a private bubble? Whatever, this was your superior. If it was any boss you’d probably be fired by now. You were lucky to be forgiven. “Yes, sir. May I comment on something... Er, sir?” “I’m all ears.” standing back up from leaning over your incredibly messy desk, you looked up at him, he looked down at you in response, with beady little “innocent” eyes through his circular shades. “I didn’t mean to be sassy, I only wish for this relationship to be professional and nothing else.... I, um, truly do apologize and I ask for your forgiveness.” you studied the wall as you say this, fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your pencil skirt. It was a bit awkward to talk to him as if he wasn’t a kid, but it did feel certainly refreshing. “Is that so?” you turn your head to look back at him as a sign of respect, an eyebrow of his is raised, and a smug smirk is playing at his lips. He talked with such an aura of arrogance around him, you instantly regret being respectful. Yet, you restrain yourself from slapping that stupid smirk off his stupidly handsome face. Why did all the handsome ones have to be so annoying? Fuck, no, that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. Even though it was only in your mind, you felt so embarrassed, and had no idea why. It wasn’t like he could read your thoughts, and it was just a mindless compliment, nothing flirtatious about it. Finally, he spoke. “Aw. (Y/N), I knew we picked well when we hired you. So respectful and professional! What more can I ask for out of a secretary? I humbly accept your apology- but first please do something for me.” he whistled in the other direction as he picked up one of your cute stationary pens, hastily sliding it into his blazer’s pockets. “Yes, sir?” you brace yourself for impact yet again. Not noticing that he stole one of your favorite pens. “Slack off a little. None of my secretaries ever worked this hard. I’ll slide in an extra hour for lunch, you can go watch a movie or something-” “No. Satoru. Contrary to your other secretaries, I actually enjoy work.” standing up now, you stomp over to Gojo, who was now giggling like a 7 year old girl. You hadn’t realized that you had called him by his first name, but honorifics wasn’t on your mind right now. Your chest stuck out as you shoved him out of your office with your bare hands, maybe as a way of looking more threatening, as if that’d ever work against him. “Get out of my office!” You hope your eyes are staring daggers, if he ever looked back at you. Gojo looked at you like he was shocked, tipping his shades down just slightly as you were pushing him out into the hallway. As if he didn’t believe what he was seeing, so he had to see it with his actual eyes- but eventually laughed before accepting his eventual fate. “On a first name basis now, aren’t we? You’re straightforward! I like straightforward girls though, it works out in your favor.” “Shut it.” He made sure to stiffen once in a while just to piss you off so that you couldn’t push him as easily, and before long he was back to his office. “Cya (Y/N)!” giving you a wave and a wink, he grinned. “I’ll be sure to visit you again, your office is fun!” That was just one of the unusual interactions that Gojo Satoru had with you, but you knew now that it certainly wouldn’t be the last. ‧₊˚✩彡. It didn’t take you long before you realized your favorite pen was gone. Almost immediately, you figured out who the thief was. It was evident by now that your relationship between you and your boss wasn’t normal, to say the least. You just couldn’t quite wrap your head around why he stole a cute carrot pen, it certainly wasn’t his style. Well, you weren’t quite sure honestly, but the way the magazine front covers posed him was... Sexual. Maybe the hot guy liked cute carrot pens and was too scared to buy them by himself, but, it was 2021. Toxic masculinity was basically extinct. This wasn’t on his mind when he stole your pen, though. Gojo Satoru was smart when he wanted to be. To be quite honest, he just wanted to annoy you more. It made him curious, how could one enjoy work? And be cute at the same time? The logic made no sense to him. Attending meetings, doing interviews- this was all very boring work to Satoru, and he couldn’t wrap his head around that you enjoyed that. He hadn’t asked to inherit the company, but yet here he was now. Shit, maybe he’d ask you if you wanted the company. He yawned before drinking his coffee, just how he liked it before taking a sip he straightened his tie, just to make sure he looked extra clean and fresh when you busted down the door, ruffling his fluffy white hair as he did so. Gojo hated the work environment, just to be straightforward. One thing he did enjoy was the complementary luxury coffee machine, alongside several sugar packets. Placing his impossibly long stick-like legs onto the table, he sighed happily. Cute girl being his secretary, drinking yummy coffee, the sun rays warming up the back of his head, he was truly living the life. And then he heard it. Loud steps against the tile floor. And then, his door flung open.

270 notes · View notes

darthwheezely · 4 years

Text

let me - f.w.

Summary: Fred will always choose you, even if you don’t know and wouldn’t choose him back. Even in the worst of times, Fred would do anything to let you know how much he loves you.

This is based off my recent break up which was supremely awful and I’m going to be picking up the pieces for...a while. This is kind of self-indulgent, I’m sorry about that!

people that might like this: @whiz-bangs78 @monoscandal @gcdric @theweasleyslut @thehufflepuffwife @vogueweasley @loony-loopy-lupinn @oh-for-merlins-sake @slytherinsunrise @lupinsclassroom @durmstrange

Warnings: angst, but slightly fluffy??? mentions of cheating and light homophobia it’ll be ok basically lol and cussing and bullying...oops? PROLLY FUCKING AWFUL WRITING PLZ I TRIED IM JUST EMO RN SKSKWKWJWKKSK

It wasn’t that Fred Weasley hated your boyfriend, it was actually that he had really liked him. Kind of really enjoyed his company. Even went as far to say that he considered him a friend.

And because of that, he told himself, he wasn’t able to see exactly what was happening.

Everyone had known that you and Sam Tuckson had broken up, to be honest, drama at Hogwarts was dulling and unfortunately for you, you and your relationship had fallen prey to the lull of gossip.

Sam Tuckson had basically slid his way into your life at the beginning of fifth year, and to you he was everything you had wanted. The Hufflepuff Keeper was tall, tanned, smiled, and laughed like everything that came to him (including you) was easy, and something in that carefree sense of a walk and talk he had was more than enough to satiate your feelings. You were for all intents and purposes madly in love with him, and everything up until your break up five days ago led you to believe he was as well.

To say Fred had been a little jealous at first was taking it a bit lightly. It didn’t take a whole lot to figure out that Fred had been pining for you since second year, and to make matters worse? He was your best friend. For the first couple of months or so in your new relationship, he found himself at night silently wishing and pretending he was Sam, not needing to steal glances across tables in the Great Hall, being able to hold onto your hand a little longer than he was allowed, and to finally be able to taste your lips on his whenever you wanted him to.

For the first time, he wasn’t your number one boy anymore and it killed him - but the only thing able to bring him back was the joy Sam brought you day after day. It was starting to eat at him past month 2, and with that brought George:

“Freddie. Mate,” he sighed looking at his older twin. Fred hadn’t left bed at all that day and knew he wouldn’t leave it for another day unless he did the inevitable-

“-you have to either tell her or wait. She misses us...she misses you.”

“I know, Georgie.” He looked at George, longing for peace evident in his angular frame. Fred nodded and sighed, sitting up.

“I know.”

Fred had made it his personal mission to befriend your boyfriend, and while it was painstakingly murderous for the first week or so - he eventually became to warm up to the Hufflepuff boy, even going as far as hanging out with him and letting him in on pranks with George when he wanted. Honestly? The guy was starting to grow on him, the idea of a friend of his dating you seemed to lessen the emotional blow of knowing it wasn’t him, and he felt himself over time starting to possibly lighten his own load on you.

And then the rumors started to fly around.

Fred had been walking to Transfiguration and had rounded the corner-

“I heard he’d been slipping it to Astoria and Daphne!”

Who the hell are they talking about?

“Nah, he doesn’t like Slytherin girls-“

“But have you heard about him with Slytherin boys!” They snickered loudly.

Fred continued to walk, the high pitched giggles of the younger Ravenclaw girlsinging in his ears.

After class he made his way to the Great Hall for lunch when a gaggle of Hufflepuff ladies crossed in front, (they always take so damn long when they’re in a line across, he thought)

“Anyway, I heard he hates her guts now.”

“Sam could never hate her! They were together for soooo long you know.”

His heart stopped. No. No they couldn’t be talking about-

“It’s because she’s frigid that’s what I heard.”

“Y/N? Frigid? Please have you seen her with him, she acted like a slut around him! Disgusting really.” She wrinkled her nose.

He felt his knuckles whiten and a lump in his throat begin to rise.

“I heard he’d been doing it the whole time!” The last one said as they hitched a left to the courtyard.

Fred hadn’t ever known what it’s like to be frozen or paralyzed with anger, but he learned it then.

You were sitting in your navy and golden dorm, the only sanctity and safety you felt surrounded by the colors you knew so well. You hadn’t felt the strength to go the Great Hall for anything today, not after breakfast. Not after you waltzed in after what felt like a normal morning and heard tinny laughs and stifled giggles from the Hufflepuff table.

You’d been made the fool by the boy you loved. And there was nothing at this point that could get you past that realization now.

You’d heard the rumors in the hallway. You’d heard them when Pansy Parkinson sat next to you in Potions and whispered in your ear, “maybe just dip yourself in amortentia next time. Might last longer.” You’d seen the way Sam Tuckson, Hufflepuff Golden Boy, looked over at you with nothing but pity in his eyes before he trudged to the Ravenclaw table, looked at the ground and murmured-

“I’m sorry it ended like this. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to love you sometimes.”

And scurried back to his own seat.

You hadn’t had the strength to find the twins. You could barely find the strength to move from your bed, to get more tissues. You simply didn’t have it. And then.

There was a knock on your door.

“Please, Cho, not right now, okay?” You croaked, turned away from the door. You could barely hear the door creak open to see your best friend’s head creeping from the other side.

“Knock, knock, princess.” He said softly, showing your turned frame a small smile.

“Can I come in? Please?” You nodded. Fred came through, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him. He looked at you curled up in your bed with your uniform still on. Your favorite throw blanket draped over you as you laid on top of the covers and all he could think of was how.

How did he let this happen?

“Freddie, you couldn’t have known.” Fred blinked realizing he had spoken out loud and froze in place.

“Yes, actually I could have”

“Fred-”

“No, I don’t think you understand.” he almost growled it, it was so low that you could barely register it was him saying it. You turned him to look at him then, pulling your knees to a criss cross applesauce position. He clenched his jaw feeling tears and the lump in his throat finally erupting.

“See, Y/N, I’ve always been there to protect you. It’s never been a job, or a chore, because I’ve been so blindingly in love with you ever since you hurled a bezoar at me in Potions when we were 12.” You choked out a small giggle at that, your heart pounding in your chest. He looked up at you then tears on his face.

“I know this isn’t fair. Because this is a really shit time to be selfish and tell you how much I love you, but I was his friend, Y/N. I willingly sat and enjoyed his company and I could’ve seen what he was doing to you because I’m a guy I should know what guys do and quite frankly? You deserve so much” he swallowed and readjusted his jaw again feeling more tears as he watched you crying to, wanting to stop but something in him told him this was it he couldn’t hold in it he couldn’t-

“-so, so much more. Than me. Than him. Jesus, than everyone. And, love, I am...so sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner. Please know our friendship wasn’t a lie and we never have to discuss this ever I just...you’re so bloody fucking perfect and knowing I watched him do that to you without knowing I just-”

“Freddie.” You held out your arms. It was his turn for him to choke then as his knees buckled and fell towards you on the bed.

You couldn’t be mad at him or angry or upset. You weren’t. You were just,,,

“Fred, I need time.” You whispered against his shoulder, his body engulfing yours in a tango of arms and legs and breaths that only you two knew this well.

“Angel, I didn’t mean to make it seem-” he pulled away to look into your eyes.

“I know you weren’t asking me of anything, Fred. I love you I just...I need time. For a lot of things.” He swallowed and nodded moving to get off the bed and give you the space you needed. However, you pulled him back.

“I love you, Freddie. That isn’t changing.” And out of force his arms seemed tighter as he breathed out, meeting your forehead.

“And I’d wait every second of everyday to hear you say it again.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader

363 notes · View notes

burntmcnuggies · 4 years

Text

Hawks and S/O Play Among Us

Hawks x Reader

Just a small headcanon I made since me, my mom, my brother, my step-sister, and some of my friends play all the time! If you wanna play together or just chat with me lemme know and I’ll make a private group for you all to join and chat with me! ;)

Warnings: strong language, excess use of profanity, so if you don’t like very strong language please leave! A slight little bit of suggestive sexiness from Hawks, but it’s very very brief! That’s it!

Enjoy!

* Cheats all the time. So make sure you both are in separate rooms. If you’re beside him playing on your phones, he will for sure peek over and see if you’re an imposter or not.

* If you’re both Crewmate he’ll stay glued to your side. He’ll do all tasks with you, make sure he follows you if something got sabotaged, even though this may cause you to lose. “Hawks go to the other one! We only have 15 seconds!” “But what if you die? I’ll be all alone, and everyone will sus me because I stayed with you all the time!” “That’s why you don’t follow me and act sus!” Needless to say it’s difficult getting him to leave your side. If you do die, he’ll start blaming your killer even though he has no proof at all. Then he gets voted out and you do tasks together as ghosts. He’s one of those people to randomly start accusing people, and will use you as an alibi. “I was with my girlfriend and brown was following us. He’s pretty sus.” Then you get spams in the chat saying “wtf.”

* if you’re both imposters, he’ll make sure to sit by you and run around freely by himself knowing you’re safe. Even in a fictional game he makes sure you’re safe... most of the time. “FUCK! FUCK!! BROWN SAW ME!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!” “LIE!” “THEY ALL WANNA VOTE ME OUT WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” Voting occurs, and you vote him out. “YOU BETRAYED ME?!?!” “WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!?! IT WOULD BE SUS IF I DIDNT!!!” He’ll start pouring and follow you around in his little ghost form, assisting in sabotage and warning you if there’s anyone around so you can kill people. If you were away from each other, he would venture on his own and sometimes follow you to see if you can double kill. “Yes! Good job, dovie, you make a great sidekick!” If you are being accused, he’ll defend you immediately, which makes it all the more suspicious. Then you both end up getting voted out.

* You’re the imposter and he’s the crewmate. You kill Hawks first. Always. You have to or else he’ll rat you out immediately. He’s very competitive if you are on opposite teams. If you do get voted out he’ll rub it in your face and laugh. “You’re so predictable, dovie. It’s not even funny!” Well, apparently he thinks it’s funny. He also thinks it’s funny seeing the pouty expression on your face. If your teammate kills him, you start laughing at him. “Hah! Yellow got revenge! Thank you yellow! Carry us to victory!” He scowls. “At least I made it farther.” If you successfully kill him, he’ll stalk you through his little ghost and scrutinize your methods. “You killed him in the open, If it were real you’d be locked away by now.” “It’s a game babe. Let me play how I wanna play. You’re acting childish cause I killed you.” “I hope they vote you out. Liar. Murderer. Imposter!” When you end up winning he’ll pout. “I’ll get you next time, baby bird.”

* He’s the imposter and you’re the crewmate. He’s very good at it. He likes to wait and kill you last since he loves to taunt you. Then he’ll lie to the entire chat and act all innocent. However, if you’re playing with friends, this plan always backfires. You don’t even suspect him because he’s so good at playing the role of an imposter, it’s almost scary. If he’s the imposter, he always wins. If he’s acting sus, you call an emergency meeting and immediately convince everyone to vote him out. It’s a desperate last effort tactic to try and win against him. Of course, he smooth talks his way out of things and you’re the one that gets booted. There will be a small little thing at the end where you are playing with friends :)

* Characters, of course yours is whatever you want, but Hawks... he loves to do stupid ass nicknames that you and all your friends and his make fun of. It’s consisted of “Sexy Bird” “No. 2 Bitches” “(Y/N)’s dick giver” “chickenman” “nugget king” “Endeavor my daddy” “Endeavorsimp” “Hawks” The last one is to try and make his fans day if he has any that play when you both just play online together. His character is almost always yellow with little goggles on top, a white suit, and a mini crewmate as his pet. Many don’t believe that it’s actually Hawks, not until he posts pictures on his social media of you and him playing together.

* Playing with Friends: You, Hawks, Endeavor, Mirko, Dabi, Tokoyami, Shoto, Twice, Shigaraki, and Aizawa (you convinced him to play) All of you are on call. Hawks invited Endeavor, Mirko, and Tokoyami. You invited everyone else. (Lets all pretend that you all are normal and there’s no heroes or villains, just all adults with jobs playing kid games. (U/N) is username by the way since you all get to choose ^^

Below is a short story I wrote for this!

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

Small Key!

-(U/N) = You (Orange, Pink, Light Green)

-Sexy Bird = Hawks (Yellow)

-Dabeebee = Dabi (Purple)

-Zzzawa = Aizawa (Dark Green)

-QueenRab = Mirko (White)

-MyDadSucks = Shoto (Cyan)

-DarkBoy = Tokoyami (Black)

-Crustball = Shigaraki (Dark Blue)

-2wice = Twice (Brown)

-Endeavor = Endeavor (Red)

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

“Hey everyone!” -(U/N)

“Stop being so happy (Y/N).” -Zzzawa

“Hey Doll.” -Dabeebee

“Dabi~! Your user name is your name in my phone!!! How sweet!” -(U/N)

“Hey, I’m right here. Don’t make me come up there and teach you who you belong to again pretty birdie.” -Sexy Bird

“TMI!! I don’t wanna hear about you’re pathetic sex like Keigo. Baby dick.” -QueenRab

“Language Mirko. Please. Who else is joining (Y/N)-“ -Endeavor

“YOU BITCH WE HAVE BOMB ASS SEX!!! TELL HER (Y/N)!!!!” -Sexy Bird

“Can we just start?” -Crustball

“Please.” -Zzzawa

“I agree.” -MyDadSucks

“Shoto change your name.” -Endeavor

“Fuck off old man.” -MyDadSucks

“I am ready to begin this journey of darkness and deceit.” -DarkBoy

“Me too! Oh hell no, I’m not doin’ this.” -2wice

“Guys! Shut up! I’m about to start the game so we all have to go on mute okay?” -(U/N)

“(Y/NNNNN)! You didn’t tell Mirko about our fucking amazing se-“ -Sexy Bird

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

You pressed start before your lover could even finish whatever he was saying and rolled your eyes shouting from the guest bedroom. “KEIGO YOU BASTARD IM REALLY GONNA KILL YOU IF YOU SAY ANYTHING ELSE ABOUT OUT SEX LIFE!!!!” He shouted back almost immediately. “SHE CALLED OUR SEX PATHETIC!!!!” You called back. “ITS NOT BABE ITS FUCKING AMAZING NOW SHUT UP AND PLAY!!!!” The little ‘Shhhh’ appeared and it turned out you and Dabi were the imposters. You grinned widely and went towards the right of “The Skeld” map. You ran up towards weapons to pretend to do the task. You took the time to attempt to sabotage the lights like you always did, but it sadly was still loading. Then a purple little astronaut came beside you with little wolf ears. And the name labeled above was red with the word “Dabeebee.”

‘Alright Dabi... lets kick some ass.’ You thought to yourself with a grin as you finally got your kill cool down relinquished. The first thing you sabotaged was lights, and then you began your search for your lover. You went down and turned left, checking to see if anyone was in communications. No one. You then went through lower storage and up Into electrical. You were met with a dark blue color. Poor Shigaraki, your first victim. Keigo could probably wait. Dabi would back you up. You clicked the kill button on your phone and immediately jumped into a vent. You popped out of MedBay and pretended to do the sample task. Then your screen flashed.

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

*DISCUSS/ Dabeebee reported a body*

*Crustball has died*

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

“Well, there goes the crusty bastard. He sucked anyways.” -Dabeebee

“Where was the body?” -(U/N)

“It’s (Y/N). I know it is.” -Sexy Bird

“What the hell kinda evidence for you have that it was (Y/N)? I’ll kick your ass if you do it again. You weren’t near her you were with Endeavor and I.” -QueenRab

“Those are some pretty bold accusations against me my love.” -(U/N)

“(Y/N) was with me the whole time. The body was in electrical. We were together going down there and she kept going while I went to go do a task.” -Dabeebee

“It was Dabi! No it wasn’t, he’s a good guy! No! He’s evil!” -2wice

“It was Endeavor.” -MyDadSucks

“It’s (Y/N) and Dabi. You guys have to believe me! I know my birdie and she is an imposter right now. Don’t trust her.” -Sexy Bird

“Shut the fuck up.” -QueenRab

“Kei baby you soundin’ kinda sus, quickly blaming me and Dabi.” -(U/N)

“It’s Dabi and I. And no, I didn’t-“ -Endeavor

“WHATEVER ENDEAVOR WE AREN’T IN SCHOOL!!!” -(U/N)

“I’m a school teacher, (Y/N). Don’t forget I tutored you our freshmen year.” -Zzzawa

“That makes me sound old Shōta.” -(U/N)

“Discussion time just ended. What’re we doing?” -MyDadSucks

“I’m still voting (Y/N).” -Sexy Bird

“Oh yes, I love you too Kei’. So much.” -(U/N)

“It was dark. I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know where I was.” -DarkBoy

“I’m votin’ Keigo cause he’s bein’ a petty little dickless bitch.” QueenRab

“RUDE.” -Sexy Bird

“I’m skipping.” -Dabeebee

“Me too.” -(U/N), DarkBoy, 2wice, Endeavor, and Zzzawa

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

7 skips: (Y/N), Dabeebee, DarkBoy, 2wice, Endeavor, and Zzzawa

1 vote for Endeavor: MyDadSucks

1 vote for Sexy Bird: QueenRab

1 vote for (U/N): Sexy Bird

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

*NO ONE WAS EJECTED*

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

‘That’s good no one believe Keigo. If they did me and Dabi would be- Dabi and I would be dead.’ Next turn you went left, heading down to MedBay to “finish” the samples. While you waited you checked to see if you could sabotage. A couple seconds later the oxygen depletion was activated. ‘Nice Dabi!’ You cracked a smile and left MedBay, running into a red character, Endeavor. Poor Endeavor. You successfully reached lower engine before killing the old player. You quickly passed Mirko and your face paled once you realized she would find the body and report it, seeing you leaving. You only continued in, receiving nothing from the others about a dead body. You weren’t gonna ask questions. Suddenly...

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

*DISCUSS/ MyDadSucks reported a body*

*Endeavor and QueenRab have died*

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

“Well, it wasn’t my old man.” -MyDadSucks

“ITS (Y/N) AND DABI!!!! VOTE (Y/N) OUT OR WERE GOING TO LOSE!!!!” -Sexy Bird

“I already voted.” -Zzzawa

“That fast? Who’d you vote for?” -(U/N)

“Hawks.” -Zzzawa

“WHAT?!?!” -Sexy Bird

“I agree! No wait! He’s telling the truth! No way! He’s totally an imposter!” -2wice

“You are being very loud and suspicious. You’re also only blaming (Y/N) and Dabi for no reason. You didn’t even ask where the body was. You passed me coming up from reactor. And the body was in lower engine. You were the only one I sa-“ -MyDadSucks

“I WAS WATCHIN’ SECURITY CAMS!!!! CMON MAN!!” -Sexy Bird

“I’m voting Kei’ too.” -(U/N)

“Me too.” -Dabeebee

“I will not eject my mentor. He’s taught me a lot. He’s intelligent. I believe him.” -DarkBoy

“THANK YOU TOKOYAMI!!! SOMEONE HERE APPRECIATES MY SMARTS!!” -Sexy Bird

“What smarts? You’re a total birdbrain.” -(U/N)

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

5 votes for Sexy Bird: MyDadSucks, Zzzawa, Dabeebee, 2wice, and (U/N).

2 votes for (U/N): DarkBoy and Sexy Bird

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

*Sexy Bird WAS EJECTED*

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

(Dead Chat)

“YOU WERE RIGHT KEIGO ITS (Y/N) and DABI!!!! HE KILLED ME WHEN I FOUND ENDEAVORS BODY AFTER SHE KILLED HIM IN LOWER ENGINE!!!” -QueenRab

“I was the first one to die. It’s been boring. I haven’t been doing anything.” -Crustball

“YOU ARENT DOING TASKS?!?!?!” -QueenRab

“They’re already going to win.” -Endeavor

“SHUT UP!!!” -QueenRab

“I KNEW IT!!!!” -Sexy Bird

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

You covered your mouth in shock that you actually got everyone to vote out Hawks. Aizawa was annoyed, Shoto was getting suspicious of how loud and pushy he was being to vote you out without any evidence, Dabi was your teammate so of course he’d vote with you, and then Twice just went with everyone else. You ran down first, running to admin with Tokoyami following right behind you. All the sudden your lover burst into the guest bedroom and stomped over towards your bed, spreading his wings and plopping beside you. “I knew it was you and Dabi. But nobody fuckin’ believed me.” You rolled your eyes and pretended to do the key scan while you sabotaged reactor. “Keigo, you were acting wayyyyy too sus. This is why you always lose when we play with friends. You’re too loud. You gotta be calm and persuasive. How on earth did you become an undercover agent for the FBI.”

“Shut the fuck up. I just wanna win that’s all. I also wanna be right, and I was, and now everyone’s comin’ and tellin’ me I’m right.” He smirked smugly and wrapped one of his wings around you, pulling you close to his chest while he watched you play. You went with Tokoyami and when you finally got him alone in navigation you killed him. Your thumb jerked upwards to go to the vent, but as soon as you did a Dark Green astronaut cane into view. Seeing you vent and leave the dead body. “Fuck!” You cursed and banged your head lightly in your head as the screen lit up. Your lover laughed. “Hey~ there’s still a chance we could win.” You sent him a glare. “Dabi will let us win. He’s a pro! C’mon Dabi! Help me out bro!”

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

*DISCUSS/ Zzzawa reported a body*

*DarkBoy has died*

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

“(Y/N) vented.” -Zzzawa

“What? Aizawa I literally just fucking saw you leave the body—SHES LYING!!!!” -(U/N)

“Is that Hawks?” -MyDadSucks

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE LITERALLY THE WORST GET THE FUCK OUT OR YOU’RE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH!!!! —THIS IS MY HOUSE!!!! AND I NEED THE BED FOR MY WINGS BABY BIRD!!!!” -(U/N)

“Can you guys fuck some other time? Are you sure you saw (Y/N) vent Mr. Caterpillar man. Do you have your contracts in?” -Dabeebee

“I don’t need input from a unemployed burnt looking drug dealer. It was (Y/N).” -Zzzawa

“A bit harsh coming from a raggedy looking old man.” -Dabeebee

“Can I just point out Twice has been awfully quiet? He bein’ pretty sus right now.” -(U/N)

“I’m the imposter! No I’m not! I’m a crewmate believe me!” -2wice

“He’s too stupid to be an imposter. I’ve been with him he was in MedBay.” -Dabeebee

“Yeah I was! But Hawks is already dead and ratted (Y/N) out! So it’s gotta he her!” -2wice

“Voting ends soon. I’m voting (Y/N). My apologies.” -MyDadSucks

“Agreed.” -Zzzawa

“Awe Shoto it’s okay, I love you so much. This is why you aren’t dead yet because you’re a pure angel! -I’m sittin’ right here pretty bird- no you aren’t an angel, you’re a devilish asshole.” -(U/N)

“I love you too, (Y/N).” -MyDadSucks

“Sorry doll, votes are stacked against you. Good game though.” -Dabeebee

“Yeah, fuck you Dabi.” -(U/N)

“Anytime baby, I’m open.” -Dabeebee

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

4 votes for (U/N): MyDadSucks, Zzzawa, Dabeebee, and 2wice

1 vote for Zzzawa: (U/N)

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

*(U/N) WAS EJECTED*

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

(Dead chat)

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the imposter who killed me.” -Crustball

“(Y/N) I TRUSTED YOU!!!!” -QueenRab

“Guys it’s just a game, don’t take it so-“ -(U/N)

“I STILL WANNA BEAT ALL YOU LAME ASS BITCHES!!!! ILL KICK ALL YOU’RE ASSES!!! JUST YOU FUCKING WAIT!!” -QueenRab

“Mirko please calm down. You’re being loud and obnoxious.” -Endeavor

“(Y/N) is right, even though she killed me. I applaud her devotion to the role. She outsmarted us well.” -DarkBoy

“TOKOYAMI!!! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE!!!! -HAWKS GO GET YOUR OWN PHONE STOP YELLING AND GRABBING MINE!!!” -(U/N)

“HAWKS YOURE NOT DOING YOUR TASKS?!?!” -QueenRab

“HELL NO THATS BORING. I LIKE WATCHING (Y/N) LOSE! -HEY! I KILLED YOU!” -(U/N)

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

You muted yourself and stopped listening to the chat of everyone arguing, mainly Mirko to everyone about doing tasks. You wondered around and looked for Dabi, following him around and assisting in Sabotage. Warm hands roamed over your waist, and a soft kiss was placed on your temple, soft red feathers brushing over your shoulders and lightly dusting over your leg. “Someone’s getting cuddly.” You announced quizzically, watching Dabi lure Twice into comms before killing him and running out. Your lovers scruffy chin rested against your shoulder, his head leaning against yours as he watched your screen. “Even though I’m still annoyed that you killed me, I’m proud of you baby bird. It’s difficult for people to out talk me. Especially you.”

“Was that an insult or a compliment?” You asked not really sure how to feel about his comment. He laughed lowly, the rumbled of his chest vibrating your back. “Hmm... let’s say both. Win win, yeah?” He began to kiss up your neck, the soft smacking of his wet lips against your skin echoing in your ears and making you shiver. “Keigo... what are you doing?” He hummed in dismissal of your words, rubbing your sides gently before slipping down to your hip. “What? I can’t love on you? I show my pretty bird some affection~?” Your lips set into a firm line and you gave him a look. “...you’re still sleeping on the couch.” He pouted. “So... no sex?”

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

*DISCUSS/Zzzawa reported a body*

*2wice has died*

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

“It was in communications.” -Zzzawa

“Dabi was with me the whole time. I met up with him after he finished a task in weapons. We fixed oxygen and met back up in the cafeteria and moved to reactor.” -MyDadSucks

“You’re the only one down there, and imposters can self report. You put yourself in a bit of a bind there. Mr. Caterpillar man. Guess the teacher ain’t that smart.” -Dabeebee

“I agree. My apologies Mr. Aizawa. No offense or hard feelings.” -MyDadSucks

“None taken Shoto. The evidence is stacked against me. Good game Dabi.” -Zzzawa

“Nice knowin’ ya both.” -Dabeebee

“Wait what-“ -MyDadSucks

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

*Zzzawa WAS EJECTED*

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

Victory flashed in your screen and you fist pumped the air cheering in victory. Hawks frowned beside you, pulling his hands away and tucking his wings between you, cocooning himself away from you to sulk that he had lost in a game he was supposed to be really good at. “Baby come here.” You called out to him, gently stroking his wings. He grunted and moved a wing down to glare. “...we can have sex later?” He moved his wings to wrap around you again and his arms were around you tightly, hot breath fanning slightly over your ear. “Thank you love bird~ and congrats on winnin’ the game. But...” You swallowed thickly. “B-But what...?”

“I’ll be winnin’ in the bedroom.”

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

“Did you forget we weren’t on mute anymore? Horny idiots.” -Zzzawa

“Hawks!” -Endeavor

“(Y/N) IM COMING TO BEAT HIS ASS!!! DONT LET HIM TOUCH YOU!!!” QueenRab

“I think I should get reward for winning, doll. Wanna come to my place? Forget about that birdbrained idiot. Cum for me~” -Dabeebee

“DABI THE FUCK?! Stop being sexual. It’s disgusting.” -Crustball

“I don’t understand why you’re all like this. Was there a class I missed about being weird?” -MyDadSucks

“No. They’re just weird.” -DarkBoy

“Wait we lost.” -2wice

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

END.

#my hero academia #my hero headcanons #bnha dabi #hawks #hawks headcanons #among us #my hero academia tokoyami #shoto todoroki #shoto aizawa #mr aizawa #shigaraki tomura #pro hero mirko #endeavor #twice mha #my hero academia x reader #crack headcanon

274 notes · View notes

outerbanx-4 · 3 years

Text

Dang Kooks

Prompt;; JJ and you had been friends since you could remember. While JJ being on the more “kook bad pogue good people” you tended to, while understanding where he came from, were a little more lenient. Until the day you ran into Rafe Cameron.

WARNINGS ;; Violence, angst, swearing, sexual content(no actual smut), fluuf(slight)

`this is my first time writing anything, so it will most likely be TRASH.

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

The air was muggy on the cut today, pretty much clinging to your body the whole time you were walking back from John Bs chateau. You couldn't believe how hot it has been recently and were praying that it would cool off, even just for a day. The walk from the chateau to your house was a fairly quick one, passing by familiar landmarks with the dirt road underfoot. You surprised yourself a little when you decided to choose a different route home.

Deep in thought about what you and your fellow crew were going to do later in life you had wandered a bit further away from your house then you had noticed. You were known to space out, “lost in the twilight zone” as JJ called it, from time to time especially while walking home. Coming up to an older playground where the swings were broken and the latter to the slide was missing rungs here and there you decided to sit and think.

Without realizing almost an hour has passed, looking at your phone and the screen lighting up to tell you that it indeed was 5pm and you told your parents you'd be home by 430p to help set up for dinner, you got up and made your way towards the road and back to your house. While on your way you took note of the broken tree branches, and just the general unkempt state of the lawns you passed by. While unkempt isn't really unusual for this part of the cut, the storm that had recently brandished its way through the island seemed to only make it much worse. Sighing you kicked some rocks as you walked.

“Now should someone as pretty as you really be walking by herself?” you heard a voice call out from behind you making you jump in surprise and go to retort about how you are indeed and big girl and can handle yourself the gravelly voice continues his words “especially with how some of you pogues act. Never know who you're going to run into”

Rolling your eyes you turn around and groan inwardly as you see the one and only Rafe Cameron. Everybody knew him. He was the worst of the worst. With the second worse being Topper of course. Sanding there in his stupid khaki cargo shorts and expensive pink polo he eyed you up and down in a way that made your skin crawl just by standing in his presence. “What are you doing here Rafe? I thought you hated this side of the island?” the contempt and hatred flowing through your syllables easily.

“Oh I thought what a beautiful day it was and thought to myself.. Hmmmm where can i go find some cheap pussy?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you in a suggestive manner. Looking closer in his face because even though you know rafe cameron is a horrible person you even couldn't believe he would be this horrible and nasty. Low and behold you noticed that his pupils were dilated almost to the point of his entire eye being an ominous jet black shade.

“You’re gross Rofe Cameron, why dont you go find some stupid touron or kook to take advantage of?” you asked as you turned back around and started to walk away. By now you had managed to make it closer to your house. Breathing a slow sigh of relief you hoped you would be able to make it home without any more issues.

Suddenly you felt a hand grab your wrist and yank you backwards, and as your body unwillingly followed the momentum of the pull and your head whipped around to see who it was that happened to be touching you you noticed; you didn't know if you noticed because you were now scared or because of something else, something e;se you had started to notice had been happening recently. You where right in front of your best friends house, and while he was generally not at home and at the chateau you hoped and prayed and sent everything you could that he was home, because it was Rafe who had grabbed you and pulled you into his chest. One of his arms securing you, unwantedly, up against his body making you let out a groan.

“Rafe seriously let me go!” you all but yelled, purposely talking louder in hopes someone would hear you. Your best friend, the neighbors, your parents, heck even your best friends horrible father! Just anyone that would come and pry this ass off of you. Instead of letting go he pulled you in tighter. Chuckling he spoke quietly into your ear “Shhhhh now baby you know you're enjoying this.” and with that he grabbed at your ass and latched his mouth onto your neck. At this point you were helplessly flailing your arms in any hopes that one of the many hits your arms did would make him release you. At one point he let his teeth sink into your neck which caused you to let out a squeal that you couldn't contain and made him grunt in approval.

Suddenly Rafes entire body pressure was off of you and not pushing up against you and within not eve none second the muffled thudding of someone's fist flying into Rafes cheek bone was evident. Stumbling but catching your step you saw the tall silhouette of your best friend, JJ, standing in front of Rafe, his toned arm rippling with each punch he threw, you could see that blood started to pour as each time his fist drew back his knuckles where coated.

“JJ! JJ! Stop please, hes down im safe!” You cried and you ran up to him and grabbed onto his arm as he raised it. Knowing how JJ got in these you knew you had to something more as he threw another punch ripping through your mesly grasp. “J come on please stop!”

Thinking for a minute at how mad he would be if ke knew what you were about to do, hed scold and yell andbe mad but there was no one else here to hold him , to stop him. Pope went home to study, John B and Sarah were out doing god knows what and Kie’s parents where making her work all day. You had nothing else to do.

Watching as Rafe stumbled backwards stood up and he'd managed to get a good swing in and landing it right on JJs perfect peach mouth, and you saw his lip rip open an start to bleed, and his normally sparkling cerulean blue eyes seemed to be a dark and stormy grey color. His fist reached back again and about to step towards Rafe. This is when you make your move, running and standing in front of him grabbing his wrist again and yelling more worried this time.

“JJ please stop!” His eyes snapped to yours for a second, still stormy as they bore down into your eyes, they flicked back to Rafe and he tried to push forward again. You dug your feet into the ground and brought your other hand up to graze his cheek and pulled his face down again. The eclectic sparks shooting through your body surprised you a little as the radiated from each and every touchpoint that you had on his face.

“Ya JJ listen to your girlfriend just stop” Rafe mocked your voice as you held JJs face now in both hands as his fist started to lower slightly. The storm started to clear out of his eyes a little as he finally looked at you and slowly nodded. Stepping back he moved slowly out of your embrace and glared at Rafe. USing his voice for the first time, “Stay off the cut you damn kook, no one wants you here.”

Turning away you both followed him, that is until all of a sudden Rafe spoke up and said the one thing he never should have, “Yeah ok Maybank but make sure you keep your girlfriend in line, stop letting her dress like a fucking skank.”

You knew it was over and JJ just turned and smashed Rafe a hard one to the jaw and Rafe fell to the ground blood gushing from his nose as his eyes rolled back. JJ just grabbed your hand and walked you towards his house. “Y/N you ok? Did he hurt you?”

Shaking your head you relished the feeling of his rough hands in yours, he stopped in front of his house and lightly cupped your cheek and gazed into your eyes. His eyes seeming to be released of the storm, he leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to yours. Releasing your lips fro his but keeping his forehead on yours he goes “I promise i will always be here for you to protect you. I love you babe “

Smiling and pressing your lips against his again you mumbled “i love you too JJ”

He pulled away and started leading you to your house.

“Dang kooks.”

~~~~~~~~~

ok i know its terrible im sorry but it just fell into my head

#outerbanks #jj #jj maybank #jjXreader #kookVpogue #pogues #kooks #rafe cameron #rafe #john b #sarah cameron #kie #pope heyward #jj fluff

45 notes · View notes

24hlevi · 3 years

Text

Save Your Tears

Rico Brzenska X MTF!Reader

Genre: Angst, Slight Fluff

Warnings: Language, Implied/Hinted Transphobia, Bullying

Summary: Y/n, one of the cadets is getting bullied by other cadets in her year. When Rico is walking by on patrol, she sees this happening and scolds the cadets harshly before reassuring and comforting Y/n.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: i’m really excited for this as a trans person myself so i hope you enjoy ! also its a bit short im sorry i suck at bullying and comforting 💔

You knew it would happen eventually. You had expected it. You just didn’t think it would happen between you and your comrades. The people that were supposed to help you if you were on the verge of getting eaten by a titan. But if they couldn’t even handle you being “different” then how could they save your life on the battlefield? Were you really that different that they most likely wouldn’t save you because of it? So many thoughts ran through your head as you stood on watch inside Wall Maria in a small town.

Being a cadet, you weren’t able to do many things yet except sit tight and hope that the day wouldn’t come that titans decided to break through the wall and destroy humanity at their very will. But you didn’t mind. It was like everything else, you had to progress and continue going up the steps to success and hope you don’t fall on your way up. You’ve had to do it many times, so wanting to become a part of the military wasn’t going to be anything new for you.

But god was it hell still.

“Hey, Y/n!” You heard someone say your name and you turned your head, seeing one of your comrades walking up to you with two other guys behind him.

You could feel your body tense up upon seeing the trio of boys walking to you, knowing that whatever was going to happen wasn’t going to be a very fun ride for you. “Hi!” You forced a smile onto your face.

The boys stopped in front of you and the one in the middle began to talk again, “Hey so look, my buddy here needs some help with what he’s doing right now which is moving heavy stuff like guns and ammunition for the regiments and he needs someone strong. Like, guy stong. So, would you mind helping him?”

Your teeth gritted against each other when the male finished his sentence, and you shook your head. “Why would I help? You three are men, aren’t you? You can help him just fine, and much more as three than just me.”

“Nah, I think you’d be stronger.” He responded. “Would you just help him, man?”

“No.” You answered. “You can help your friend perfectly fine by yourself. I don’t have to be involved in any way. So I would appreciate it if you please left me alone.”

The boy’s expression changed into anger as he walked up to you, grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulling you towards him. “Look, Y/n, all I’m doing is helping a friend here. Why can’t you do the same? Because you’re a little bitchy girl now? I won’t be leaving you alone until you help. You know you have the muscles, obviously you do. But you’re not going to because you’re a bitch now? Tsh, should have expected it from someone like you.”

Your eyes immediately shut the moment he grabbed your shirt and pulled you, afraid that you were going to get hit next. “Please, stop.” You said quietly.

“No, I don’t think I will.” He growled angrily. “Do you wanna help like a good person or be a bitch for the rest of your life?”

Meanwhile, still in the town that you were located in, Rico was walking around, making sure everything was going smoothly in the town as well to check in on the cadets when it was necessary. As the girl was walking, she glanced around until she noticed you and the three men, one with his hand gripped harshly on your shirt while looking extremely angry. She began to walk towards you all when she heard what was being said.

“Oh so you are gonna choose to be a bitchy girl for the rest of your life? Why don’t you just go back to where you came from, Hell?”

Tears welled up in your eyes and a few slipped out, running down your cheeks slowly. “Please, just stop.”

Rico’s eyes narrowed into a glare as she stopped in front of you two, grabbing the male’s hand and ripping it away from you and twisting it around, resulting in him yelling in pain as she spoke, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She spat out.

“I was doing nothing!” He cried out.

“Tsh, like I believe that. I heard what you said to her, cadet. Don’t think I won’t tell Commander Pyxis and get you kicked out.” Rico told him in an even harsher tone.

“No, please don’t tell Commander Pyxis!” He said quickly, shaking his head rapidly.

“Then don’t do this shit ever again.” Rico let go of his arm and continued to glare at him. “If I or anyone I know find’s out you continue doing this, you will be kicked out and left for the Titans.”

The boy nodded quickly and started to walk away, the other two following behind him quietly.

You stared at the girl in complete shock, not expecting anyone to help you at all since no one had before. When Rico looked over at you, you quickly looked away while moving your hair so it was covering most of your face, not wanting her or anyone else to see your tears that were still falling one by one.

“Hey...You okay?” She asked you, taking a few steps closer to you.

You glanced over at her and nodded quickly, “Oh uhm, yeah.Thank you by the way.” You replied, wiping away the tears.

The girl put her hands on your shoulders and you looked at her confused. “Save your tears for another day, don’t let those fuckers get to you. And when you become better then them whichever regiment you go into, you won’t even think about them anymore. And by the way, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen here.” She gave you a small smile at the end.

A blush spread across your cheeks at the compliment and you nodded, “Thank you. I really needed that.”

“It’s no problem, really. If someone ever fucks with you again, just come and find me, the name’s Rico Brzenska, it’s pretty easy to remember.” Rico responded.

“I will, thank you.” You nodded again, smiling.

The girl nodded and patted your shoulder, “And join the Garrison regiment while you’re at it, that’s where I’ll be.” She told you. “You have a really nice smile too, don’t let it go away, no matter what happens.”

“I was thinking about joining the Garrison regiment anyways.” You chuckled. “And I won’t.” Your smile grew wider.

“Good.” Rico leaned forward and hugged you for a split moment before pulling away. “Now, I’ve got to get back to duty. But maybe I’ll find you afterwards and we can talk more. I’ll see you, Y/n.” She added, flashing a smile for a second before turning and walking away.

Well, you definitely didn’t expect things to go that way. But you were glad that Rico was nearby and helped you, since no one else would most likely. You would save your tears for another day, a day that they would actually matter. You would keep the smile evident on your face as well, not going to let anyone bring you down just because of who you were. And always remember,

You are beautiful just the way you are 💙

#aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingkei no kyojin #snk #snk x reader #aot x reader #rico brzenska #rico x reader

32 notes · View notes

uncloseted · 3 years

Note

my mom believes in homeopathy and i don't know what to do. our town homeopath died not so long ago so she won't be recommending him to people anymore, but she still believes in the system. apparently he cured my brother's hyperthyroidism and my nephew's alopecia. she says that he went to tons of real doctors and the only thing that worked was homeopathy. that left me speechless. im still skeptical but how do you explain that? and if it's a placebo but it works, then why shouldn't we use it?

This answer is going to be a long one, so I apologize in advance. Apologies also for how long this has taken for me to write and publish. As always, I want to make sure that I answer every part of this question with thought, care, and sources. To make it easier to navigate, I'm going to add headers for each section. What are Homeopathic "Remedies"? The first thing I want to do is clarify what homeopathic "remedies" actually are and what the theory behind homeopathy is. Often, I think we imagine that homeopathy is just herbalism- using "natural" plants as "medicine". By itself, doing that is kind of a dubious approach to treating illness, but it can be at least somewhat effective. It's important to understand that that's not what homeopathy is. Homeopathy is an alternative "medicine" practice created in 1796 by Samuel Hahnemann as a reaction to the mainstream medicine of the late 18th century. Hahnemann's homeopathy is based on the doctrine that "like cures like"- that a disease can be cured by a substance that produces similar symptoms to that disease in healthy people. In order to prevent those symptoms from occurring as a result of the "remedy", homeopathy also subscribes to something called the “law of minimum dose”—the notion that the lower the dose of the medication, the greater its effectiveness. This is inconsistent with what science knows about dose-response relationships, where the effect of a dose is reliant on the concentration of the active ingredient. Many homeopathic products are so diluted that no molecules of the original active ingredient remain. Modern advocates of homeopathy have suggested that water "remembers" the substances mixed in it, and transmits the effect of those substances when it's consumed. This isn't consistent with our scientific understanding of matter. Homeopathy also traditionally includes the concept of "miasms" as the "infectious principle" behind illnesses (including illnesses like epilepsy, cancer, deafness, and cataracts). Miasms are a negative force (imagined to be kind of like a cloud or fog) that serve no purpose other than to make humans miserable and ultimately kill them. Traditionally, homeopaths believe that individual symptoms should not be alleviated, since it will only drive the miasm deeper and the miasm will "manifest itself as diseases of the internal organs". They believe that in order to cure illness, the miasm must be removed from the "vital force". The concept of miasms have become less popular in modern times, but there are still homeopaths who base their practice around it. It's important to know that none of these ideas are backed by the scientific method, nor have they been shown to be effective when subjected to the scientific method. That said, you can kind of see concepts in homeopathy that are 18th century explanations for phenomena that are real. For example, "like cures like" and "law of minimum dose" is actually kind of how vaccines work: you give a very small bit ("a minimum dose") of a disease-causing microorganism or an agent that resembles a disease-causing microorganism ("like cures like"), which trains the body's immune system to recognize that agent as a threat. Another example is airborne infectious diseases. It is possible to get certain illnesses (such as COVID-19, measles, chickenpox, the flu, and norovirus) if you encounter a "miasm" (what we now call droplets of an airborne infectious disease). The problem with homeopathy is that it's not the 18th century anymore. Science has moved on from using "like cures like" and "miasms" as explanations for illness. We know that "like cures like" is not an effective treatment for every illness, and we know that not all illnesses are "miasms" (airborne). We have a better grasp of things like genetics, viruses, infections, and environmental factors that allow us to more effectively understand what causes illnesses and how to provide effective, reliable treatments for those illnesses. What's the Harm? Problems with Homeopathic "Remedies" Moving on, I want to start with

your last question first. If homeopathic "remedies" are a placebo and they work, why shouldn't we use them? What's the harm? There are three main problems with using homeopathic "remedies" that I want to discuss. The first and most important answer is just that they don't work. I'll do a deeper dive on the evidence against homeopathic "remedies" and why homeopathic "remedies" don't work in a second, but for now, just know that the first problem is that homeopathy can't fix the health problems people are looking to solve. The placebo effect is pretty limited in its scope; it generally works for subjective, patient-reported outcomes such as pain and nausea, but it doesn't usually affect the actual disease. For example, when the placebo effect is used to treat insomnia, patients perceive that they've slept better, but it doesn't actually improve the amount of time it takes a person to fall asleep. The second problem is that homeopathic "remedies" aren't always harmless. While they're generally "unlikely to provoke severe adverse reactions", there have been cases of those "remedies" being taken off of the market because they've caused serious symptoms such as seizures. In the US, homeopathic "remedies" aren't overseen by the FDA in the same what that medications are. As a result, there's no assurance that the substance you think you're getting is what you're actually getting. Frequently, "remedies" are a waste of money because they don't have enough of the active ingredient to work at all. This is especially true if the product you're getting is a "dilution", which intentionally gets rid of the molecules of the original material as a result of the "law of minimum dose", but it can even be true of things like nutritional supplements that you can buy at CVS or Walmart. In the US, there's no group tasked with objectively testing the claims made by companies that sell "remedies", and there's no group making sure that "remedies" don't have ingredients in them that are unsafe. Belladonna, arsenic, and poison ivy have been found at detectable levels in homeopathic "remedies", and cases of arsenic poisoning in particular have occurred. But because homeopathic products are marketed as if they're "drugs", many people assume they wouldn't be allowed to be sold if they weren't good, if they didn't work, or if they were advertising falsely, and so they keep buying them. If you see an individual homeopath, this problem is compounded. "Homeopath" is not a protected term in the US, meaning that anyone can claim to be one. In turn, this means that there's no licensing board that oversees their work, no professional association or government agency that keeps them accountable for their mistakes, and no educational credentials that they need to begin practicing. Your local homeopath may have no background in biology, medicine, chemistry, pharmacology, or even homeopathic or alternative medicine practices. They can literally just be a person, one who you're trusting to cure your ailments and to not accidentally poison you in the process. The last issue I want to bring up is that homeopathy is often (although not always) viewed as being an acceptable replacement for evidence-backed medicine. This means that often, people who see a homeopath aren't seeing a medical doctor, and their symptoms aren't being treated by evidence-based medicine. By not taking an evidence-based approach to intervening in illness, outcomes are significantly worsened, especially for serious, life-threatening conditions such as cancer. Patients have died as a result of opting to take a homeopathic approach to illness instead of receiving proper treatment for diseases that could have been easily managed by evidence-backed medicine. This becomes an even bigger problem when it comes to public health issues. People who view homeopathy as being equal to or better than evidence-backed medicine are more likely to be anti-vaxxers and to not vaccinate their children. Reductions in vaccination rates have led to resurgences of diseases that had previously

been close to elimination. The US has seen a resurgence of whooping cough, measles, and tetanus as a result of anti-vax sentiment. Those resurgences directly endanger people who cannot be vaccinated due to chronic health issues, people with allergies to ingredients in vaccines, and people who cannot choose to be vaccinated, such as children. How Effective Are Homeopathic "Remedies"? Next, let's talk about studies that look into the efficacy of homeopathic "remedies". Government level reviews of homeopathic "remedies" have been conducted by the UK, Australia, and the European Academies' Science Advisory Council. The UK's study found that there was "no compelling evidence of effect". Australia conducted a meta-analysis of 1800 papers, and found that "there were no health conditions for which there was reliable evidence that homeopathy was effective." EASAC found that there was a lack of evidence that homeopathic products are effective, and raised concerns about quality control. Additionally, there have been systemic reviews and meta-analyses of the efficacy of homeopathic "remedies" from doctors, universities, and medical researchers. In 2005, The Lancet (one of the world's oldest, best-known, and respected medical journals) published a meta-analysis looking at the efficacy of homeopathy. Basically, that means that they looked at data from 110 homeopathy trials. These trials were included in the study because they had a completely randomized set of patients who don't know whether they were getting a "homeopathic treatment" or a placebo pill. This type of "blinded" study allows researchers to see how effective the intervention (in this case, a homeopathic "treatment") actually is. Their findings were, "compatible with the notion that the clinical effects of homeopathy are placebo effects". Meta-analyses have also been conducted on the application of homeopathy for individual diseases, including cancer, ADHD, asthma, insomnia, fibromyalgia, dementia, IBS, osteoarthritis, migraines, ecchymosis and edema, and dermatological conditions, and all have found the same result. The UK's NHS, the American Medical Association, the Federation of American Societies for Experimental Biology, the National Health Service and Medical Research Council of Australia, the World Health Organization, the American College of Medical Toxicology, the American Academy of Clinical Toxicology, the Russian Academy of Sciences, and even the acting deputy director of the National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine have all come out against the use of homeopathy, saying that there's "no good quality evidence that homeopathy is effective as treatment for any health condition", recommending that no one use homeopathic "treatments" for disease or as a preventative health measure, and noting that there is evidence that using these treatments can produce harm and indirect health risks. But it Seems Like it Works! What Else Could Have Happened? In terms of what happened with your brother's hyperthyroidism and your nephew's alopecia, I'm perfectly happy to admit that I have no idea. I don't know what the homeopath gave them or what else they were taking or what else they were doing during that period of time that might have changed their health status. I can offer you some hypotheses (and I will in a second), but I don't know, and that's okay. What I do know about is the current state of research on homeopathic "remedies" overall, and how it holds up when subjected to the scientific method. There are a few common culprits for why homeopathy may seem to work. I'm going to go over those now, and then I'll dig into some theories for what may have happened with your brother and nephew. These culprits include:

Placebo effect- we talked about this one earlier, but essentially, if people believe that a "treatment" will work, they're also more likely to believe the "treatment" worked after taking it. As a result, they will report feeling better on subjective measures such as pain.

Natural healing- with time, the body can sometimes heal itself without medical assistance. This is most common for things like viruses.

Therapeutic effect of consultation- care, concern, and reassurance from a compassionate caregiver can have a positive impact on the patient's assessment of their well-being, even if objective assessments of their well-being stay the same.

Regression towards the mean- many conditions and diseases are cyclical. The patient may notice a decrease in symptoms that they attribute to homeopathic "remedies", but are actually just a result of moving to a different stage of the disease cycle.

Cessation of unpleasant treatment- a homeopath may suggest that patients stop receiving medical treatment. Medical treatments can sometimes have unpleasant side effects, and so halting those treatments can make the patient feel better in the short term. The patient attributes the decrease in symptoms to the homeopathic "remedy" but it's actually that they stopped taking a medication that has side effects. In the short term, this feels good, but in the long term it is destructive because the disease isn't being treated.

Non-homeopathic treatment- the patient is also receiving medical care, and the medical care is responsible for the decrease in symptoms, not the homeopathic "remedy".

Unrecognized treatments- an unrelated food, exercise, environmental agent, treatment for a different ailment, etc. is also treating the patient's medical condition and is responsible for the decrease in symptoms.

For alopecia areata (hair loss in patches on the scalp), spontaneous remission is actually more common than you might expect. In most cases that begin with a small number of patches of hair loss, hair grows back after a few months to a year. It's possible that your nephew's hair just... grew back, especially if time had passed. It's also possible your nephew's parents were treating his alopecia other ways (minoxidil, contact immunotherapy, corticosteroids, a gluten free diet if the alopecia was associated with celiac disease) and just didn't tell you or your mum. Hyperthyroidism is a bit more difficult to guess at. It could be that your brother's medical doctors switched him to a different medication that did work or changed his dosage. If you're sure that's not it, it could be that he switched his diet to one that's low iodine and low in caffeine. Research suggests that, although a low iodine diet cannot cure hyperthyroidism, it can reduce or alleviate the symptoms in some people. If your brother went vegetarian, vegan, or stopped eating fish, that could be the culprit. If he stopped taking a multivitamin that contains iodine, that could be it. If he started eating a ton of foods high in goitrogens (soy, cassava, cabbage, cauliflower), that could also contribute to what happened, since goitrogens interfere with the uptake of iodine in the thyroid. It's also possible he was misdiagnosed, but if it's true that he went to "tons of real doctors", that seems fairly unlikely. Again, all of these are just guesses for the purpose of illustrating what confounding factors may have been present. I think the bottom line with stories like these are that you're hearing them secondhand. You don't know how many doctors your nephew or brother saw, or the quality of those doctors, or what they diagnosed, or what they prescribed, or how many different lifestyle changes they tried. You don't know what the homeopath prescribed them, or if they took it. You're hearing a story of miracles through the mouth of a believer, and that can make it difficult to know what is and isn't true (in a medically accurate kind of way). It's possible that your mum's homeopath has stumbled upon a treatment for alopecia and one for hyperthyroidism that work better than traditional medicine. I hope that's true. We can always use better treatments, especially for difficult-to-cure conditions like alopecia. But I think it's more likely that there's just some piece of information you weren't given. What do I do? Getting to your original question, there's not a ton of evidence-backed research (that I could find, at least) for how to change people's minds about homeopathy, but there is data on changing people's minds with regard to vaccines, and I think using those tactics may work in both cases. What to do about your mum's beliefs in homeopathy depend on where those beliefs come from, how entrenched they are, and how it's impacting her life. If she's just someone who tries lifestyle changes and supplements from CVS first before going to a doctor and if she believes in vaccination, homeopathy is a waste of time and money, but it's probably not too big of a problem. In that case, it may not be worth pushing her about it, especially if she hasn't found a new homeopath after her old one passed away. If she's anti-vax and/or refuses to see medical doctors, that's a bigger problem, and it's worth having a conversation about. Changing her views is likely to take time, so be prepared to have at least a few conversations about these topics. And be prepared to step away from the conversation and resume it at a later time if it becomes too contentious. Start by asking her about her fears with regard to evidence-backed medicine. Do your best to be curious rather than judgmental in those conversations and to be a good listener. Respect is the most important tool in changing a person's mind, so try not to interrupt, be dismissive, or combat her beliefs off the bat. Affirm her right to have questions (but not the validity of the actual concern), and

try to say positive things about her in the conversation (for example, "I can see you really want to do everything you can to keep yourself healthy and safe"). Focus on her feelings, not facts. By trying to understand where she's coming from, you can begin to understand where her hesitations are and how those fears might be remedied. For example, a lot of people who believe in homeopathy do so in part because they feel like homeopathic practitioners listen to them, respect them, and care about them more than medical doctors do. They've usually had a bad experience with medical doctors. Knowing where her fears lie gives you a better idea of what she needs in a medical context, and can help you figure out how to dispel misconceptions she has about medicine or find alternatives that actually work. In the case of feeling like medical doctors don't respect her, you may be able to help your mum find a medical doctor who will spend longer with her and really listen to what she has to say. You can try asking her follow-up questions that allow her to investigate her own beliefs. For example, you might try asking about Hahnemann's ideas of "like cures like", "the law of minimum dose" or "water memory" and see how she reacts. Many people, even those who use homeopathic "remedies", don't know the principles that it's based on, and will eventually express skepticism when asked to explain them. It's tempting to try and combat pseudoscience with facts, but studies suggest that presenting facts makes people more likely to cling to their original beliefs. It's better to let people investigate their beliefs on their own through asking the right questions. You might also try this technique. Ask her how likely she would be to see a medical doctor/get a vaccine, on a scale of 0-10. If she says 1 or 0, this strategy isn't going to work. But if she says 2 or 3, then you can ask her why she's not a 0. Why is she not fully saying she won't see a medical doctor or get a vaccine? This forces her to explain what she thinks the positives of medical doctors/vaccinations are. Now you're on the same side; you both think there are some positives to the medical profession. Reinforce those ideas when you talk to her. From there, you can ask what would make her more likely to see a medical doctor/get a vaccine, and when she answers, you can point to the places where those things exist in the medical field. If nothing else works, you could try finding ways to make evidence-based medicine and vaccination compatible with her beliefs. Perhaps you could try using the language of homeopathy to explain medical issues and their treatments. For example, with COVID, it might work to tell her that COVID is a miasm, and that researchers used "like cures like" and the “law of minimum dose” to create a vaccine to remove the miasm from the "vital force". All of that is technically true, at least in a sense. It's just not the language scientists would use to describe what happens. To Sum It Up The medical establishment definitely has issues it needs to work on. The lack of compassionate, respectful care in many medical settings is a real problem, and it has real consequences. There are some situations in which a placebo is a potentially valid approach to treatment. But the answer is not to encourage homeopathy. It's to do more research, develop better drugs, and change the ways that doctors interact with their patients. Homeopathy doesn't work, and it does potentially have harmful side effects, both on a personal and societal level. The way we can combat homeopathy is to be curious and respectful, to help people identify and work through their concerns, and to offer them solutions to their medical problems that take those concerns into account.

3 notes · View notes

peakatseven · 3 years

Note

🎸 happiness, because this song is my spirit animal lol

And if you'd like you could do these too, I'm super indecisive so I couldn't shortlist oops. You don't have to do them all, I'm just horrible at choosing:

🌕 across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise

📖 +📜 I'm curious

Congratulations on 700!!

u gave me a reason to go back and review some of what i already wrote for this novel which comes in really handy the day before camp nano starts SOO thank you so much ily <3 i dont have my guitar with me rn so i cant do the cover just yet, im sorry, BUT i can do this:

here’s a lil snippet of my work in progress “Swing By The Lake”. I’m really proud of how this scene turned out even though i put off writing it for the longest time because i hate writing sex scenes. it’s not an actual sex scene, but it pretty clearly leads to that. kindda weird that this is the first thing that you’re gonna read from me because i NEVER write sex scenes but whatever it’s actually pretty significant to the plot because it’s the start of Charlie realizing how much she actually cares for Agustina which is just... *sigh* perfect

things u should probably know before this: charlie is a 17 y/o girl who’s vacationing in this beach town where she met Agustina, a 21 y/o photographer from Argentina who is also on a trip in this beach town. they’ve been hanging out at the cliff of the hill that separates each other’s houses for most of the summer, both at sunrise and sunset because that’s just what people do in the argentine provinces and its also romantic af. it also kindda fits the feeling of your writing prompt so its a win win! i hope you enjoy this :)

~ i’m celebrating reaching 700 followers!! so if u want to, you can send me some of these and ill do my best to create something cool for you! ~

Charlie opened her eyes after what felt like a few seconds. The room was still dark, but she was restless. Looking out the window, the moon shined full and bright over the still ocean. In a split second decision, she grabbed a sweater before heading down to the beach. With her shoes on her hand, she walked along the shore. The water ran up to her calf sometimes, a bit too cold when mixed with the fog that filled her lungs. Charlie wondered whether it was too late or too early to be out by herself, but there was no better hour to sort things out in one’s mind. If it was truly Noemi who had seen Charlie and Agustina together at the beach, why hadn’t she come to tell her parents already? Was she really going to keep the secret for Charlie without her even asking? It was hard to believe. Noemi must be up to something, waiting for the right time and way to say it. Or to gather evidence. But, why? Was there really a chance for Charlie to deny her accusations and get away with it? As all the possible—and impossible—scenarios came to her, Charlie collected pebbles from the shore, her long nightgown served as a great bag to store them momentarily. She came to realize that it was near impossible to be anxious or fearful in such a calm atmosphere. Alone in the beach, under the stars and surrounded by mist, touching the water while collecting stones. Silence only being interrupted by the ocean against her freezing legs. It was as if God tried to comfort her with nature. As she kept walking, there were more and more stones underneath her feet. So much so, that by the time she came to the end of East-Watch beach, it hurt to walk barefoot. Charlie got away from shore and sat on a stone at the bottom of the hill. The same one where she’d had breakfast with Agustina almost 24 hours prior. She put on her sandals and made a split second decision. It almost didn’t come as a surprise when she found Agustina sitting on the cliff, just like the time they were both there for the first time. The foreigner couldn’t see her, but she was most certainly aware of her— the stones bounced on one another as she walked. Charlie sucked in a breath and walked slowly closer to Agustina. She wasn’t sure if what she was doing was right, it was a much wiser decision to just leave and never talk to her again. Deny everything Noemi might claim once they were back home and forget that whole summer even happened. It was a wiser and safer choice. Yet there she was, hand over the lady’s shoulder, almost touching. “Why are you here?” She said without turning around. Her voice was cold, colder than the fog or the ocean. This one froze Charlie inside out. Silence. “If you are not going to say anything, you should just leave.” Charlie breathed in to speak, but her mouth didn't obey. She remembered the last time they were together and how abruptly she'd run away. Agustina had nothing to do with Noemi, she didn’t know how terrifying it was to see her at that beach. And to top it all, Charlie avoided her when she walked, probably the entire way, to The Saltbox Inn just to see her. What was there to say after hurting her in such a way? "I'm sorry doesn't cover it." She finally spoke, sitting down and leaving the stones just behind Agustina. She didn't turn, but her breathing was louder. Faltering. Charlie hadn't noticed from afar, but Agustina went there to cry. "Oh, Agus." She said as she sat down behind her and embraced her into a hug that wasn’t reciprocated. "I'm so sorry." "Why are you here?" Agustina's voice was weak, it broke Charlie to hear such a light-hearted lady like Agustina be in such pain. And it was because of her. "I couldn't sleep." "Why?" Charlie took in a deep breath. "The other day, I thought someone from my town was there and saw us." Charlie said, she rested her forehead against Agustina's hair. She meant to go for a kiss on the cheek, but she was turned away. "So you naturally pushed me and ran off." Agustina scoffed. Charlie was speechless. She hadn't really been thinking at the time. Hell, she barely even remembered what actually happened. "And

then you never came back or called. And then when I walked the entire way to your place… you saw me, and ran away as fast as possible. Again. Of course I'm sorry doesn't cover it." "But I am sorry, Agus, please tell me what can I do to make it better?" Charlie's own voice cracked a little. She felt awful for hurting the girl beside her, she'd done nothing but given her the best summer she'd had in years. "Charlie." Agustina sighted and covered her face with her hands, shaking herself away from Charlie's hug. They were still side by side at the cliff’s end, their legs lightly brushing against one another as they swung with the wind. But to Charlie, not hugging Agustina felt like they were miles apart. She sat back before speaking. "Come here, please." Charlie begged. Agustina lightly turned her head, giving Charlie a chance to catch those slightly swollen green eyes. In an attempt to lighten the situation, she grabbed one stone and threw it over the cliff. It bounced off of a stone and then made it to the calm ocean, which brought a hint of a smile to Agustina’s face. "Please." She offered another stone out to the Latina, who grabbed it and sat back and rested her back on Charlie. Charlie pulled her closer, just enough so she could hold her with both arms around her waist. The sun must have been rising at that moment, because Agustina's face lit up in all the shades of blue. She threw the stone over the cliff, but Charlie didn’t hear whether or not it reached the ocean. She was too hung up on how Agustina’s lips looked especially soft from the side, glistening with what remained of her tears. Charlie brushed her thumb over the lower lip as softly as possible. "I'm sorry." She whispered before going for a quick kiss barely on the side of her mouth. "I'm sorry." She repeated and leaned closer, asking for permission. Agustina slightly turned and that was enough. Unlike any other kiss they had shared before, this one felt like they were both savoring every second. They were both so depraved of the other that every moment, every move was sacred. "I'm sorry." Charlie whispered as she moved from Agustina's lips to her jaw, drying the new tears with her own lips. She kept apologizing in between her approaches. All she wanted was to make Agustina feel better. She did everything she could think off to comfort her. Charlie kept kissing every inch of Agustina’s exposed skin, staring into her eyes before going further— silently asking if it was okay to do so. Charlie let her body take over without giving much thought to her actions. They were soon enough throwing their clothes aside, condemning everything that dared come in between them. There was nothing Charlie wanted— needed— more than to be closer to Agustina. As close as humanly possible. She needed to take the pain she caused away. “Charlie.” Agustina sighed when Charlie reached her stomach. She used a tone Charlie had never heard before. It reminded her of the prayers sung at Church, delicate and desperate with a hint of fear. Charlie froze. “Is this okay?” Agustina let out an audible sight, caressing Charlie’s cheek with her fingers, softly guiding her to look up. Agustina’s eyes were still a bit red, but they were also a slightly darker shade of green. “I-” She looked for the right words to speak. “You don’t have to do this.” “But I want to.” Charlie answered without missing a beat. She smiled shyly at the older girl, looking down as she soon realized what she had just said and what was about to happen. “But… I don’t know how…” She trailed off, resting her forehead on Agustina’s belly. “It’s okay,” She whispered. “I’ll guide you.”

#asks #micha's 700 celebration!#tswiftie #writing #sbtl

5 notes · View notes

hoseoksactualass · 5 years

Text

illicit episodes

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: smut

word count: wtf it’s ltrly almost a 10k pwp im sick

warning/s: sex during office hours (and a phone call kinda) // oral (male and female receiving) // blindfold use // just very nsfw

summary: dream boy, chief executive officer Jeon Jungkook is someone you go way back with until every fibre of your being becomes his entire fetish.

author’s note: ceo jjk for @taespired

after reading this bitch’s recs I’ve gathered inspiration to write this per her request

have the cliche that nobody asked for but everybody wants: ceo!jk and sec!oc and some other filthy endeavours (also,, jk talks a lot and is cocky here)

It’s a crisp night. Evidently and especially in Jeon Corp. where Chief Executive Officer Jeon Jungkook’s office is astood. Full glass walls that point into a corner so the Big Boss himself can choose what side of the city to overlook. After all, whatever he sees fit is what he gets, and that includes an eagle-eye’s peer over where the sun rises and sets when he feels like turning his back on stacked paperwork on his desk—something the majority doesn’t see someone with such a youthful, handsome face as Jungkook’s tending to, but he does, and aces it, too.

What he doesn’t get, unfortunately, is why he ponders an unusual amount of time about the length of your pencil skirt. Certainly enough, earlier in the day, he swore they were longer than they are tonight. Somewhere above your knees, so like paperwork, he almost demands an explanation why he can see your mid-thighs now and the mesh he wished were some panty hose.

It’s hard to be hard in dress pants, too, and Jungkook has that noted to think about again when he sees you bend over for the umth time in front of him to… tend to the coffee table? For longer than an average amount of time?

That night, you say something in admiration to the hard, sturdy, thick wood of the coffee table, and it’s the same night Jungkook fingers you on it until his fingers are wrinkled wet. The first night of many.

“I’ll have my secretary send you an email.”

In his office, well, his quarter of the floor, Jungkook liked to let you take his blazer and let it grace the coat hanger for the whole day. It was 8:28 in the evening, and city lights, any light, is good to his veneer. Rolled shirt sleeves, expensive belt, and whatnot. Tonight was one of the rather torpid nights, twiddling a pen in his fingers, mind tranced into his phone call with the Chairman of the Board, and you’d hate for the tight of your suspender belts to go unnoticed. You’re three buttons away from an undone blouse.

“Estimates for the next month?,” this is where he looks at you from the listless loll of his head on his office chair. You nod, not missing the way he eyes at the open crevice of your blouse. He doesn’t bat an eye anyway, instantly averts and gets back into the call. “_____ has a summary of that.”

You roll your eyes, knowing full well he wouldn’t see it anyway. You walk closer.

“The marketing manager in—,” he looks up at you, looks back down only to bring his eyes up at you again, at your proximity. “—Japan has a what? Sorry, a problem?,” he has grace in his voice, but his eyes remain stern as if his attention hadn’t been solely caught by the way you dragged your fingers on the surface of his desk, making your way around towards him. “What does she need?,” he speaks to the phone in the same way he tugs at the sleeve of your blouse, pulling you steps closer so he can ogle at you in the comfort of leaning on his office chair. You flash him a smile, but you know it would come artlessly, what with the handsome part in his hair and the softening of his face when he finally gets that front seater view of the lace on the underboob of what Jungkook could make out as an… open front bra. “Uh—huh, should I—,” he nods as if Mr. Park could see him from his end. He tugs more at your blouse, shuffling you to his lap. “—call this a phone call and handle that then?,” he speaks with a tighter breath, and you send him a glare, aware that his impatience was evident and that he’d make you make the phone call in fluent Japanese after whatever he was growing impatient for. You shake your head, threatening to scoot off his lap before you feel his free hand cup at the small of your back. “Ah, that,” he nods again, pushing his lower lip into a small pout, and you roll your eyes again, but this time he sees it, and it’s with a smile. “_____ had that finalised since last week. She’s my—She’s a really sharp secretary,” he bites white at his lip, teeth sliding swiftly at his lip balm, and you watch every second blood rushes back into it. He palms at your chest, feeling for the opening until he can play his fingers onto your skin. “She’s emailing you on those March sales as we speak,” he boasts, pride in his lie and the way he cranes his neck where you offer to kiss. “I’d love to, I’d love to,” he sounds chipper. You assume it’s about drinks, dragging the tip of your nose across his jugular. His hand leaves the warmth of the inside of your blouse, and you feel it move to the mound of your ass. Just soft petting like it’s on his schedule. You don’t rut your hips; work clothes make way too much sound to be this close to a phone call.

The way you’re sat on his lap makes your skirt hike up your thighs, enough that Jungkook sees the straps of the suspender belt latched onto your stockings. You look at him, eyes still buzzed in an attempt to focus on the call while his fingers played with the mesh, gradually going up to the strips of the garter belt.

“I’m assuming it’s just Japan who has an issue,” his head perks up at you, amused by the way you followed his every gesture. He gives your thigh a squeeze before mouthing the word off. “Great, no attempt to contact was made yet?,” he watched as you slipped off your skirt.

You knew this would get him. To see you undone, undressed this way, a garter belt, just a garter belt that matched the revelation of your bra.

“I—I understand,” you see his chest rise high and fall. Lethargic. You make your way towards him again. He fishes for something on his desk, and then you figure out it’s the remote for the blinds when you hear a significant beep, and the room starts to grow dimmer. “You can—,” he gestures for you to turn around. “—leave that to me,” you comply only to turn to face him again. He bites down on his lip. “Ah—no, sir, it’s a late night for me.”

He gestures for your blouse’s buttons. You undo them slowly.

“For _____?,” you both perk up, meeting eyes, his dark, possessive. “Why do you ask? I believe she’s finalising that email at this second,” there’s a grit to his teeth, but he manages to smug it down. You smirk at him, and he takes it like a challenge to his competence. You’re a button away. “Mm, very well,” then he cuts his attention span, paying full to the phone call more because he was in a hurry to end it. “See you tomorrow.”

He ponders for a bit, recollecting everything Mr. Park had rambled through those lines before he looks back up at you. “You get better at lying by the day, sir,” you grin. “Part of the job?”

“What I know is that you—,” and he eyes you up and down for the effect. “—should keep my secrets,” he leans back on his chair, fingers hooking to the knot of his tie, then he pulls.

He’s lit by the filter of his blinds, bleeding with the blur of city lights; there’s a good reason behind the stigma that rings around the youngest CEO-Secretary duo and how good they look (and perform). “And I do,” you reach for your heels in an attempt to slip off the pain in your feet.

“Keep them on,” he cuts you off, the tip of his index finger running slowly over his lips. “What? I like them.”

“They hurt.”

“Fine. Off, then,” he sighs as you giddily kick your heels off then finally make your way to him again, bending down to brush the surface of your lips against his. The feeling’s addictive, scandalous but it only makes you more avid for it. You feel him take your blouse off before you wave it away, leaving you in lingerie an easy bite off his own credit card. Rich, and you could sniff it off him.

You kiss down his neck, his chest and abdomen through his dress shirt, and then undo his belt like it’s practice.

“You dress like this under everyday?,” he coos, watching as you get on your knees.

“Not everyday, but I will if you make it dress code.”

“Feel like I should,” he raises an eyebrow, confident but you still see the blazing excitement in his eyes. You tease a hot kiss on his lower abdomen, unzipping his pants. “Who are you looking this good for?”

“Myself,” you respond, palming his crotch, and he takes it with a smile.

“Gonna suck my dick for yourself, too?,” he smirks, moving his foot between your thighs and nudging them open wider from where you kneel. “Don’t think so.”

You make sure you do it languidly when you take his length out, half hard in anticipation for the heat of your mouth. You tease your tongue on the head of his cock, wetting it before you wrap your lips around it just to release with a pop. “What makes you think I’m doing this for anyone other than myself?,” you stroke him dry.

“You’re doing it for everyone you—fuck—want would get hard or wet for you,” he speaks with a voice coming more from the tightening of his chest.

You like feeling him like this, gradually becoming solid at the mercy of your mouth, hearing every hitch of his breath, and looking at him not as someone of power but as someone you can take the power out of. You let up after a particularly deep suck. “Tell me more,” you place a tight fist around his cock. “You mean yourself?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, moans coming out in forms of consecutive heavy exhales you could feel in your spine. “And others.”

You gather a decent amount of saliva in your mouth, straighten up on your knees, and make sure he sees clearly when you let your spit drip on his dick. It’s easier to stroke him. “Others?”

“Fuck, ugh—you’re making a mess,” he leans his head back like the rest of the chair was a magnet, just to bring his line of sight back to you.

“Who is others, sir? Who else do you think would get hard or wet for me?,” you mock.

He hisses at the play of honorific but more because you knew exactly what you were doing with your hand. He smirks, though, scoffs almost. “Mr. Park. If I put that call on loud speaker, you would have heard how many times he’d mentioned you.”

“Jealous?”

“No—fuck, keep going—,” he pets at your hair, gently caressing his fingers over the neat of your low updo. “Was just thinking if—he’d seen you in those already.”

You chuckle, up to play his game though fucking Jungkook was admittedly becoming pretty exclusive. Even for him. “You’re my first audience. Always,” you chaff, finally taking him in your mouth to avoid saying anything else. He takes it like it’s the same thing that puts him to sleep and keeps him up at night, head digging into the backrest, back arching at the feeling. You’ve done this too many times to not know exactly what makes his body twitch; it’s easy enough to tighten your cheeks around his cock.

“Mr. Park hasn’t one idea what you do to me,” he as if boasts, tucking stray hair behind your ear lest he wanted it caging the view of your lingerie clad body. “What you’re doing to me—now,” his breath gets cut into a tight moan, a kick of his hip hitting the back of your throat. He moans again at the sound you make. You listen to him like it’s plugged to your ears. “That—filthy rich son of a bitch thinks he has it all,” he huffs, eyes closed when he blissfully loafs his head back before looking at you again. You look at him, only feeling the moulding of your insides more. “What he doesn’t have—,” he thumbs at your cheek, dragging it across the skin of your face to the corner of your lips where he can see his cock plunge in. He bites his lip before speaking again. “—is this mouth, right?”

“Mm,” you hum. Something about how competitive he felt around his own chairman of the board made your body churn harder than it was supposed to. You were supposed to be zipping rich off traffic on your way home by now, but now, your boss’s dick is part of your schedule. You won’t question it.

“Get up,” he forces, watching the way you let up leave a glisten on his dick, and he finds it pretty. He tugs you to his lap, manspreads when you’re sat on him, so he can touch you where he sees fit. “And what he doesn’t have—,” he continues, eyes lingering over the swell of your lips. You feel his finger feel down, all the way straight to your core. “—is this,” he smirks when he sees your face shudder. He smears his finger across the lips, rubbing too sensitive against your clit, you make a soft ah at each caress. He easily dips a finger inside, watching his hand’s work.

You like looking at him like this, his hair curtained over his eyes when he’s tranced by how you can make parts of him disappear inside you, i.e. his finger in your cunt, his breaths shallow, cock hard and red against his abdomen. You can pretend it feels good for now, his finger prodding at the wrong place, but his visual turns you on enough that pretending doesn’t feel like a chore. Until you don’t have to. It’s one curl of his finger and the right pressure that makes your hips roll like reflex.

“That’s it,” he leans before continuously pressing his finger against the spot. “Fuck yourself on my finger,” he would’ve asked you if you were up for it first, but he knows you’ll give in. What he doesn’t know is how hot it gets him. He watches you, in the congratulation of nature for the broad of your hips that rock on his finger, the water from your cunt that’s starting to soil your inner thighs, and the glisten reflecting colours of the city outside. You’re filthy art.

Another thing you like is making a mess on him and seeing him welcome it. He lets you pull on his tie rough enough, his head jerks before your lips crash. It’s almost an unkempt kiss, too—mouthing at each other like you’re trying to drink each other up, but his tongue is always so soft against your bottom lip. He kisses you like it’s ecstasy—what he feels on his finger. Then it’s near endgame when you whimper on his lips.

“Look at me,” he mutters, swiping his tongue over his lips. But you’re in too deep that his voice is nothing but radio noise. All you do is rock your hips harder in request for more and make sure he sees when your body shudders. “Please open your eyes, and look at me,” it’s like he begs for it, too, and it’s always him to plead for something he’s greatly smitten by. Until you don’t comply. He nearly rips his tie off when he undoes it, leaving you empty and snapped out of your reverie. “If you’re not gonna look at me, you’re not gonna look at anything,” he almost growls, foaming at the mouth when he ties his necktie around your eyes, forcing nothing but a dark shade of blue until all you can do is hear, feel, smell, and taste. You wince when you feel the tip of his dick against your entrance, two firm hands on your waist. You hear it when he yanks at a drawer, shuffling through envelopes and whatnot before the ripping of plastic and just the enticing, perfect roll of rubber over his dick.

There’s a burn under your body, but you sit on the fire as if you like the way you simmer on it. With your eyes covered, your other senses are sharper, but you doll yourself into submission, not having to see to know full well how hard that made Jungkook not twitch in his dress pants. You feel his lips against your ear.

“What were you thinking of when you bought these?,” when he asks, you hear how young he is. The little postgrad boy with stars in his eyes and a gift for numbers, slack-jawed for girls in expensive lingerie he’d only ever seen in... well, much higher levels of living such as that of your lives now. You feel him pull at your garters before snapping back on your skin.

You bite your lip. Jeon Jungkook, the Computer Science major you had been pining for in your younger years, was now your boss, fingers digging into your hips like the scandal of it all blows his pupils into nothing but black. You have him right where you want him. And although you roll your hips like you’re begging, and he’s grimacing into your skin with authority, you know you’re the one in control. “You. I was thinking of showing it to you,” you whisper, voice more velvety than intended.

“Just showing?”

You crane your neck, give him more skin to nip on while he speaks through his teeth. “More than that.”

“Say it,” he presses a kiss to the juncture where your head meets your neck. “Please.”

“Thinking of making you fuck me in them,” you finger through his hair, messing the do in it, but it’s always nice to feel the silk of his roots. You have him somewhere between making and fuck. It’s only fitting you hear the noise he makes clearer. “I thought of you bending me over your desk and fucking me silly.” After that, all that rung in Jungkook’s mind was a string of I want to fuck her I want my cock inside her I want to hear her cry for it.

“You had this whole nasty act planned then, huh?,” he’s lost, the colour in his eyes a thin ring around his pupils. “Bending over every time I’m on the phone, you do this to Mr. Park, too?”

You hold back a smirk. “I had this act planned just for you.”

You could be smoldered into his skin at this rate, keening where he touches and throbbing where he doesn’t. In his pulse you hear him feeling just the same way, chest tight, sweat on his hairline. He goes a little quiet until you feel him grip at your hips, lifting you slightly, and then the glory of his cock teasing at your entrance. “Shit.”

You make a tiny whimper, and his head would have shot up if it wasn’t for the rather wet visual you had prepped for him.

“You should stop making me want to fuck you every time I’m trying to work—fuck,” he twinges when you sit on him, sinking down, and a long, raspy breath leaves his chest. “Like it just the same when you’re on top of me like this?”

You like how he mumbles this way, as if whispering small mercies and sweet nothings to his own ear, just a breathier, whinier, filthier way of him uttering things to himself when work has the best of him.

You don’t analyze it over; you just want his cock hitting the right place, so you take charge and start with a slow bounce. Enough that you can say the pressure inside you feels good. You know he’s sat back despite being deprived of his visual, with the way you feel him holding his chair in place and the tense of his thighs every time you make him bottom out, and the sounds of his breaths, leaving in ropes of heavy pants and tight groans. You feel a thumb to your clit.

“Oh, fuck,” you almost throw your head to the side. The feeling sends the pair of you into a fucking frenzy—you picking up your pace as you bounce and him trying to match with his finger on your clit. “Ugh—nngh, oh my god—Sir,” the honorific is something you don’t intend. You know, you’re used to it rolling off the tongue just right. With the kick of his hips, you know he’d reveled in that more than you knew.

“Fuck—fucking say that again.”

You shiver, gripping on the arm rests for leverage, head tilted up as if in praise. When you speak, your throat’s a little dry, but it comes off in a husky, light “Sir.”

Why do I find that so fucking hot is all Jungkook thinks of, but he’s biting his lip before he makes a sound more choked than yours.

He doesn’t ask again, but by now, you have a mental note of it. And if there’s something you’re known for as a secretary besides being astonishingly younger than most and unusually giddy around her boss, you were quick at picking up on everything, so you say “Sir, it feels so fucking good” like you were programmed to.

You feel his cock do a thing inside you, and you almost laugh. Quickly replaced by a strangled moan, though, feeling him press down harder as he rubs you. He’s all noise and no words, breathy and tickly in all the good ways until he’s formed a considerable sentence. “Yeah? Fill me in,” one thing that shocks you is his spontaneity in knowing just exactly how to play. Fill me in is the exact same thing he says when asking for minutes, and you tremble as you ride him without intending to. “You like this better than getting your back blown from behind?,” you hear the grimace on his lips. His voice drops, not lower, just softer, more silky, dangerous almost when he says “You like being blindfolded?”

It’s not only the way he says it; it’s all the context behind it. Something about him scribbling down in his head what made your pussy clench around him and what put you off; it was almost... intimate. All you could muster is a faltering “Y-Yeah.”

“Tell me what you like about it,” he prods.

There’s another thing about responding to this that might ignite your skin where it meets him. As if giving in to him, making him feed off the fetish inside you that is him and every hot thing he does that makes you putty, and you don’t want to splay the evidence before him, but when he asks with a soft plead, “Tell me how this makes you feel”, you find your lips parting. “I—,” you choke when he draws circles on your clit faster as if intending to make you sputter. “I want to see you, but—I like—fuck, I like—how filthy this is.”

He groans, doesn’t mean to. Your thighs are feeling sore.

He doesn’t ask you to continue, but you do. “S-Somehow, I can—I like that all I can do now is—is hear and feel you,” you’re getting lost in it, stars in your eyes though he doesn’t see. Everything’s starting to fall into the right place, and you don’t know whether the object of his dick in and of itself feels good, or whether that was because he was doing wonders for your clit, or maybe because Jungkook was just hot. You play into it like you’re trained to and ask, voice in a choked whimper, “I just need to—taste you now.”

His thighs flex to a tense. “M-Motherfuck—,” he brings the office chair low, awkward when you slowly descend, but your feet’s weight finds home on the ground, so at least you can bounce on him without rolling on a chair around the office. He doesn’t need to hold onto the desk now, too, so he brings two fingers to your lips and faintly prods. “Ah,” he groans, a low hum when he asks you to open your mouth. “B-Be a good girl,” he almost hisses. “—and taste me like this, hm?”

It’s like your blood ascends to a boil and is stunned right under your skin when you feel him stroking at your mouth. You obey, keeping your tongue a plump bed when you take his fingers inside your mouth.

When you lightly moan, Jungkook rubs a harsh circle on your nerves before collecting his pace again. “This what you wanted?,” he asks, chest heaving harder, and you almost whine that you don’t get to see him in his glory. “Can you taste me like—like this f-for now?”

You twitch at his tone, hum to it, inner thighs burning at the sore, but you don’t give a single fuck. You bathe in it, feel the way your pupils dilate to try and collect light, but all you’re getting is a more refined version of everything but. He’s moaning for it, eyes switching between the way your lips were wrapped sloppily around his twiddling fingers and down where he was stroking you fast. He tastes of sweat and fading lotion, and every inch and twinge in your body is a second closer to ripping yourself to shreds.

It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Establishing an unintentionally exclusive sexual connection with your boss was downright absurd, but it can’t be helped when every sensation was a fucking astral projection. You felt like you were evolving, above everyone else, and it was all because of this man’s energy. His eyes are in a haze. You tongue around his fingers, zoned out yourself, until he moans again. “If—If you’re gonna keep this up, I’m gonna—,” you feel him shudder under you. “Oh, fuck—I’m gonna—”

You’d have a mouth to your face in shock if you were looking at yourselves from a third perspective, or maybe the build up was coming too fast; you’d almost want to push him away and veer off the feeling. It’s still something he pressed harder on you, until your cunt makes squelching noises, and that’s where his head snaps. “Shit—oh, god—keep talking, please—”

“Yeah? Keep going,” he says through his tongue’s sputter. “Keep yourself on—on that cock, you fucking—ugh—,” You don’t long to plague yourself on the thought that he’d like to use your body to overwhelm himself this way, let you milk him until none of you can take it, but it plagues you anyway. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, drags the wet of his down your moving torso, makes sure he’s smearing it just right. You mewl. “Fuck—keep going.”

“Shit, fuck, I’m so close,” you squeak, the lower portion of your body quivering slightly. This is what fucking Jungkook was like—bedevilling yourself into nothing but sex and filth. “God, fuck, I wanna cum so bad—”

“Fucking—take it, please,” his hand goes down your waist, planted there like he’s hesitating whether to control your motions or not. “Keep going until you can’t take it, slut—fuck—”

“Oh my god,” you shrivel. But now, your thighs are jelly and knees are trembling; it becomes a supercut—the way he latches on to your hips, lifts you like you weigh nothing and props you on his desk atop messily swiped away papers, and it doesn’t take a minute before your toes curl, and your body itself withers into a weak hold around his dampening body, blinded from everything but the feeling of him taking it away and your own tight shrieks. Then you’re palming at his chest, his shoulders; the feeling’s making your hips buck. “Sir—fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck—”

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so good,” he growls, loses control, leans over your body and pulls off the tie from your eyes only to groan yet again at the sight of your dilated pupils, the twitch of your face and body with every thrust closer to deathly overstimulation. Then his mind-to-mouth filter is nothing but barren territory. “Holy shit, you’re getting—fucking tighter,” he bites, and he’s not done. “That’s a good slut, that’s my good slut,” not done. “So you’ll take it, okay? Take this in your tight cunt until I’m done with you?,” not done. “You’re gonna make me finish, o-okay?”

You almost beg for it, still exactly aware of what strings of his to play with even if a second longer was one step closer to insanity. For now, it’s a whimpery mantra of “Sir, Sir, Sir—”.

“Oh my fuck,” then he loses it, holding back with a tight strain in his chest and all the pull in his abdomen, silent but taut pants until he lets loose with a string of airless groans, slowing down after. He curses a silent “Shit” to himself before pulling out and releasing himself of the soiled rubber.

Jeon Jungkook is a gentleman, taking your hand and pulling the wear and use of your body to his lap, this time with your back pressed to his front. It’s a story for another time, but when you’d just started out these particular endeavours with Jungkook, you had to acclimate to him treating you like you were married after sex, now the situation being him stroking your tummy as he embraced you and taking up your scent with his nose to your back. “You like being called sir.”

You can’t see him, but you know his eyes are closed. The skin where he sniffs gets cold. “I guess so,” he mumbles. His arms tighten around you, and that’s when you declare you haven’t adjusted to him holding you this way at all, especially with his dick done being inside you.

“I’ll put that to good use.”

“You already did, miss,” he laughs up your skin, sending two small taps to your hip to tell you it’s time to get off, and you hate it when you feel upset it didn’t last. “Anyway, I have to work from home tomorrow. Need you with me by...,” he brings his wrist up after you get off him, already in the process of pulling your skirt back up.

At the same time, you glance at the wall clock. Just struck 9.

“By seven.”

“In the evening?,” you toe your heels on.

He smiles. “Better if you’re early.”

You don’t know why, but you feel awkward when you smile back and respond with a soft “Right.”

At most at this second, you were a coffee girl, and you’d love to get out of this tight blouse that’s digging where you sweat. “Anything else?,” you stand next to Jungkook, graced but unfazed by the glory of him working on opening a new sales firm in Japan while wearing pyjamas.

It’s only now he gains sight of the restless on your face. “I didn’t really need you here, you know.”

You felt that make a section in your brain twitch, but you’ve mastered the art of sucking it up years ago. “I’m your secretary after all. We never know,” cue your signature simper, but he knows you too well by now.

“Oh, I know,” he smiles, flatting out papers on his desk and his fingers swipe dangerously close enough to knock his new cup of coffee over. “Called you here to gift you something, actually. I knew you’d be… exhausted.”

You feel the unshakeable use in your loins yet again; it’s like home was phoning you. Turns out you could get enough of your hot boss’s antics. “Oh?”

“I’d let you plan an opening shower for this firm and get that gift for you myself, but I’d figured you’ve had enough of work today,” he leans on the desk, resting his chin on the back of his palms adorably, blinking at you with the still audacity to flirt. “It’s on the bed. In my room.”

It can’t be helped. You smile at him, still in the middle of trying to oil the gears in your head to come up with a thank you or an apology for looking so fucked out.

“And can you turn on my Nintendo Switch while you’re at it? It’s on the bedside. And you can take a shower if you want.”

You laugh, nodding, to turn on your heel and make your way, the implication of him joining you to thumb at a Nintendo device heavy on your mind.

Your heels are still obnoxiously loud by the time you’re at the hall to the left despite trying. You kick them off politely before entering, and when you do, a cityscape view meets you. Someone forgot to turn down the blinds, but it’s perfect like this. A privilege to feel on top of the world by being on top of the world. The ache in your feet’s wearing off already, and the second thing you see is the beige paper bag that sits on the foot of his bed. You don’t bother switching any light on, seeing it sits bright in the contrast of the dimlit room and his dark bed sheets.

Your soles feel like they have balls under them when you walk, but you swerve and flick on his Switch first, its supposedly vivid colours toned in the night’s lighting. On the bedside table was also his watch, ticking an uncertain 8:29 and signifying you had been working on the clock for more than twelve hours. Your work hours tended to always get this rowdy when international boards like that of Japan’s had problems, so you worked like a flint striking stone, though Jungkook… was rather tranquil this evening. As if he had something planned altogether. You won’t question it.

It takes just a peek for you to decide how predictable of a gift this was, an elegant bundle of black silk and lace at the bottom of the bag. You take the bag by your fingers and walk your way to the bathroom, an inevitable smirk on your lips.

Walking in on the luxury of his bathroom will never be customary, already looking warm before you even switch on a light. When you do, you feel like you’ve stepped into a magazine altogether, the golden glow of the vanity giving the perfect accent to the dark, granite finish of the counters and big-tiled walls. For some reason, you don’t lock the door.

“Huh?” is something you don’t say to yourself out loud while facing yourself in the mirror, but the way the black chemise drapes over the parts you’d use to provoke Jungkook has you raising your brows.

The pair of you are for window undies and garters and lace and mesh upon lace and mesh, but an opaque, painfully lustrous slip was prettily uncalled for. Your hair’s still wet, but it’s something you ignore when you twist your body for a bit for the mirror as if not used to how concealed all your curves, slopes, and lines were. At least when around Jungkook.

You hear the doorknob jiggle, and you’re not supposed to, but you feel jittery, on your toes.

He greets you with a tapping foot, a flustered blush, and a bit lip.

“You’re taught to knock,” you smile, hands smoothing the silk down your hips. You feel like a wife on her anniversary night, and he’s in careless pyjamas, too, barely allowing you to make out the more intricate lines of muscle.

“You’re taught to lock,” he mumbles through a bitten lip, and you’d expect him to eye you all the way down by now, but he’s fixated on your eyes. “Kidding.”

It’s not entirely carnal, but you feel obligated to act a certain way at this moment, what with how the pair of you are dressed for rewiring your brain into being on your toes like a wedded couple’s honeymoon. “Should I address the elephant in the room?,” you break eye contact.

“Huh?,” but he’s already turning on his heel, feet leaden and ready to throw his weight where his bed waits for him. He catches on what you mean swift though, and responds with a huffy “You mean my present? Different, right?” as he crashes down.

You turn off the bathroom light and close the door behind you after grabbing the beige bag now containing your work clothes. “...Sort of,” you wiggle your toes. “I was just trying it on,” you say that rather louder than intended, and it makes him chuckle.

“Nah, tell me what you really think about them,” he pushes himself up, propped on his elbows. You give a good eye at the fabric smoothing over his chest. “I think you look hot, honestly.”

“I feel like I’m about to do nothing but literally sleep with you.”

It makes him guffaw, a bit too hard you would say if you were in his shoes; you almost speculate the slack in his jaw and the wrinkle in his eyes too much and wonder if just sleeping with you had ever crossed his mind. “It’s not like you never have.”

“I have, but it’s always after we fuck,” you raise your brows slightly.

Then it’s now you discern he gives you a sly, once-over and licks his lips. It’s almost like it gives you a spritz of energy in your bones. “Well, do you want to?,” he pulls on his collar before flicking one button of his top open, then toned, honey skin is all you think of. “Just sleep with me, I mean?”

You pull a distasted face, apples of your cheeks twitching into a scrunch when you scoff “‘Course not.”

“Good. Come here,” he pats the space next to him. A smirk on your face can’t be helped when you comply. If you were alone, the instant feel of sheets would have you in an abrupt power nap, but Jungkook handles you like he couldn’t care any less. He throws a leg over you, in a kneeled crouch above you just close enough for you to feel his breath. “Just sit back for me, hm?”

You’re not used to it. The lax in your body, how unmoving you are, clad in bold silk and lace, and Jungkook can see nothing of you but the processing in your eyes and how you wait as if calculating—Why is he

touching me like I’m about to break?

“Do me a favor,” he stills before biting white on his lip. “Tonight, I—,” then you catch his eyes follow down your body, how the silk leaves nothing and yet everything to his imagination. You’re waiting, pulse in sync with the watch on his desk. “I’m not your boss, okay?,” he as if proposes like he’s unsure you’ll confide in him. All you do is search his eyes. “I’m not a CEO, I’m just—,” his shoulders go slump, and for a minute, he zones out. “Just Jungkook.”

You blink. “I—,” honestly don’t know what to say, not when you have outstanding employee plaques on your walls telling you to treat Jungkook exactly how he says not to at this moment. “—but, Sir—“

He groans, leaning down and keeping you caged between his knees, pressing an open-mouthed kiss below your ear. “Have to stop calling me that now, or I’ll snap,” he mutters. You feel his eyelashes on your skin, every edge of his close to you boosted by the touch. For some reason, the whole idea of the pair of you in bed just like teens, with no hectic schedule or firms to attend to, has your breath hitching and even more so when he sucks your skin.

Your hands find his hair, letting the strands sprout through the spaces between your fingers when you faintly tug, and he groans in response. You’ve rarely called him this ever since college, but somehow, your tongue finds it rolls off just as right at this second—he nibbles, and you sigh, “Jungkook.” His name tastes sweet.

Then his pupils blow up, and a soft growl accumulates from his throat, his body reacting at the use of his name before his mind can even grasp it. The use of his name from your lips. “I just—,” he shivers, one hand palming at your chest. Another kiss on your collarbone. “—want to be good to you.”

His voice comes from all kinds of alluring and almost desperate. His lips rose around the bone of your collar and suck, granting himself a soft hiss he realises he’s looking for his name in. Your eyes long to flitter shut, but how Jungkook stops to eye at the marks he’s left can’t be any more admirable. You hear him sniff down your chest, his nose gliding against the fabric before another near chaste kiss on your womb.

“You’re not wearing anything else,” he utters, keeping himself level with your crotch when he slides slow hands from the back of your knees and higher.

“’Course I’m not.”

“Good,” he exhales, languid when he pushes your knees into a bend, feet flat on the bed, enough that the chemise curtains over your arousal. You grab a pillow, stuff it under your head lest you want a strain over gaping at him too much. He knows what he does to you. Keeps his eyes on you when he bites on the hem of your slip and leisurely pulls it up where he can see more skin, breathing, turning red in a glow, panting, waiting. Lost in some new inhibition and more when he whispers “Smell so good,” he kisses the mound of your crotch. “So sweet.”

You’re throbbing for it—a prelude for Jungkook wrapping wet lips around your nerves only to stay immobile. All he does is take a deep inhale against your heat; his eyes flutter shut involuntarily, and as if that hazed him, he opens his eyes into dark, lust-ridden hoods. You’re rendered speechless, the way he touches you almost convincing you you’ll break. He kisses against you, tongue licking right under the hood and lips tightening with every stroke. You make a sound he groans to, feeling a jump in the pit of your stomach before it starts to sear in your toes. “Oh, god,” you whisper, grabbing soft hold on the back of your thighs.

It’s not scarce he hears you like this, laboured breathing and whatnot, pressure on your fingertips wherever you hold on to, but your endeavors preceding that of now’s clearly showed you had the upper hand. Whether it be getting your hair tugged on, your ass squeezed to a bruise, or getting thrown against a wall, he’a always a glare away from being at your total mercy. Not now. And you don’t figure that out just yet.

He mouths at your pussy before pulling free with the shudder in your chest. He takes one arm from where he holds you and brings it to a fold near him, so his fingers play along your wetness. Your lip finds comfort bitten.

What’s so fun about this is the role Jungkook’s getting too good by the second at playing. Your eyes show puzzlement at his feigned love-struck ones, and he has you exactly where he wants. Vulnerable, anticipating something strangely erotic and intimate. The upper hand is his, and he uses its fingers to spread the lips of your cunt apart. “You okay?”, he keeps his eyes on your core. He’s not going to make any snarky comments on how your pussy looks like fresh fruit, but you feel how wet it is anyway, down your ass and all. He pushes a bit with his fingers, watching when the slick drips. He doesn’t spare your eyes a glance, bites his lip to the visual.

“Yeah, I’m—,” he pushes a finger in. It’s limp, and you feel nothing off it, so you know it’s just for feelers. “—fine,” you squeak.

“Want you to feel good, though,” he still doesn’t look at you when he twists his hand so his palm faces the ceiling, curling the plunged finger inch by inch and waiting for that one twitch. He finds it, warm and frilly against his prod. “Do you feel good?”

“There—I—feel good,” you lick your lips and swallow before realising how parched your throat was. He pecks a kiss on your clit before repeatedly pressing his finger against your spot, earning himself almost a shrill whimper from you. “Oh, god.”

“Yeah?,” he pushes a second digit in, the stretch sudden but easy. “Want to make you feel good, want you to cum on my tongue and fingers,” he as if confesses, stiffening his fingers when he slowly pulls in and out to push at your sweet spot again. He feels your hips buck, eyes breaking contact with your pussy just to see your abdomen clench. “You make me so hard, though, I can’t let you just cum now.”

You moan at his words, stupified by whatever persona he’s acquired, youthful and dirty and whipped. “F-Fuck,” is all you can muster.

He speeds up. “What I mean is—,” he stripes his tongue up where you throb for it, and you flinch. “—I want you to cum on my cock. I want to feel this tight, wet pussy cum around my cock, hm?,” his breath proves shallow, fucking you harder with his fingers. A little harder, and you’ll unravel. “I want you—,” his cock’s too much of a strain in his pyjamas by now, and his face feels too muggy. Then he admits, “—to fall apart,” pulling his fingers free and leaving you into a bloodshot, panting grime on his sheets before he proceeds towering over you. His fingers almost slip with your slick when he pulls his shirt off. He’s cruel enough to watch himself when he pulls the waistbands of his pj’s and boxers off, his cock springing up and twitching to a stand against his abdomen. You pulsate in anticipation.

He lazily strokes himself, propping himself in a kneel above you again. He stares at you, the curve of your body and how you wait wet for him. A breath leaves him in a shiver. You attempt getting up and taking his cock in your own hand, but he groans, pushes you down with his other hand and uses it to pull the hem of your chemise all the way above your breasts. Looks for the red undertone of your arousal, your breath and its evident heaving; he squeezes himself before picking up his pace. “Jungkook, let me touch you,” you mutter, on your elbows.

He can’t resist. He lets go and shrivels under the feel of your own hand, pumping him just as he had been. He hums, tilts his head to catch the spread of your cunt, still wet, swollen almost. You make sure your thumb glides over the curtain of the head of his cock, and he bucks. Subsequent to his almost falling apart, he breaks free of your touch and finally props himself down, eyes level with yours, length rubbing on the lips of your heat. You make a whimper of some sort. “Hm?,” he rocks his hips like this. His ears are red.

You can wait. Enamored by how much of a fetish you had become for him. Everything you do or say turns a switch on, and then he’ll want his dick inside you. And now that you had made this revelation, he has you at a blind spot, just waiting, even if one mention of his name will have him by his knees. You whisper, “Jungkook.”

“God,” he ruts, wetting himself with you. “I wanna fuck you so bad,” he makes a choked exhale, a scrunch on his nose leaving none of his struggle to your imagination. It’s excruciating already. Almost a wine sommelier made to watch before she gets a taste, and every second feels like she’s not getting it so soon. His hair’s falling over his eyes, but you won’t have his head for it. He makes it look painfully sexy, in his crazed element. “It’s—fuck,” he laughs, shaking hair from his vision, licking his lips into a bite when his hips stutter. “Fucking everything about you,” he fakes pressure on your hole, enough to give you a pre-launch on how he’s gonna feel getting in you, but he slides his cock yet again, a shrill groan leaving his throat like he’s annoying himself. “—makes me wanna fuck you so bad.”

Accordingly, you think it’ll drive him crazier if you slowly snake your arms from his back to his neck, and it does. He jerks forward and bites his lip a bit too hard, it’s blood red by the time his teeth give.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, si—Jungkook.”

With that, he caves, sparing you silent, awkward seconds to yank at the bedside drawer, and the familiar plastic ripping and rubber rolling plays like a montage again. With what vigor he had to tease you into a puzzle, he uses when he pounds you. You pull at his hair a bit too hard but this time with the awareness anything you do conjures some type of scourged reaction from him. This time, it’s a “Yeah—fucking make me feel it,” he growls, breath light already, and you feel the sheets tighten by your nape where he fists. Your nails almost spade through his scalp, and he only asks for more. Your skin sounds like cheap porn, like a fake audio overlay to appeal to those who craze over slapping skin. “Harder,” there’s a grit to his teeth. Biting down on whatever filth he has before he lets loose.

He’s fucking you hard enough. CEO Jeon Jungkook will look at who he is at this second and frown at his stripped dignity but fawn over how he knows exactly how to move. He knows your body. He’ll know exactly what skin to pinch to make a limb twitch. And he’ll learn fast when the waters haven’t been tested. In this context that he wants to fucking hear you. Are you gonna speak in tongues over dick like this? Are you gonna beg? Scream? Bleat?

“Tell me how you feel.”

Your hands go for his biceps. “I—ohhhfuck so good— fuken’—so hard, Jungkook.” Speak in tongues.

He leans down, totally snogs your ear while he’s at it, biting at skin you’ll put a pain patch over to hide. “Come on, make me hear you,” he pleads, proving lust for more. You never miss how his voice gets tight. He slows for a second, props his knees again; the sheets are starting to sting and stick to his sweat. Then he thrusts back in, fuller, deeper where his fingers have been, and your back archs the way he knows. Somehow, it’s still new. “Right—fucking there, huh?,” then cue—he goes faster. And your hips buck awkwardly, feet leaden, ankles stabbing the foam, abs flexing, and—

“J-Jungkook—more, more—.” Beg. “—More—fuck!” Scream.

And he prides himself with it. Smiles, even. “Yeah, baby?,” is in character with it. You won’t have his head now for anything even if he calls you his fucking sweetheart. Crisis talks. He’ll fuck you and won’t stop until you’ll think about him at night like he’d broken your heart.

If you clench hard enough, you feel the sensation burn but your muscles give out. Something just quite the bargain should be something that’ll fuel you. Make your eye sockets smolder. You ask for it. “Sp-Spit on me. In my mouth.”

“Shit—you fucking harlot,” there’s a glow to his chest. You almost see where his voice leaves, mouth slack when he’s not speaking; he might as well fucking moan. “Open up, baby.”

You lick your lips before you do, make sure you push on the muscle so it’s more plump, red, enough for him to make a bull’s eye when he spits. Your eyes almost roll back into your head. You can taste him. Warm, hint of mouth wash, but mostly warm, foamy, fucking hot. Your gut twists, and you swear you’ll indulge in the feeling before an orgasm starts at your door. “Nnnggh—Jung—kook,” Bleat.

“Yeah, she likes that, you like that,” he mutters before huffing hard, abdomen contracting even more before he goes silent, save for the tiny pants he gives out. Pays attention, wraps his head around your sounds, more pornographic because the both of you are nearing, and your filter has gone to hell. Your lower extremities have thrown a twitching fit, caught between shutting close and keeping them broad open for him. Your right hand lets free from his assaulted skin, traveling down your front to press down on the pit of your stomach, almost so you can feel his dick moving from outside. He makes a cursed growl when he sees you do so. “Look at you,” he hisses through his teeth’s rattling mettle. If he bites down on them, they’ll break. “You know I love your pussy,” he laughs only for it to get choked into a groan. “Getting it even tighter for me.”

Your attempt at a growl turns into almost a cough, dragging out from the blooming of your chest. You’re hot, convulsing, cells expanding and breaking at the heat. Each twinge is like a snap of thunder. You scrunch your face, choosing to show struggle to hold back over sticking your tongue out with rolled back eyes like a cadaver. “Fucking me so good, it feels so good—,” you choke, body curled at his mercy, trusting and praying to his stamina to throw you over the edge, and he’ll prove success with no fail. You have your eyes closed, but his breaths are hot and hard enough that you can pretend to see it in colour. You can write something entirely about the sounds he makes. There’s a pinch in it, each take for air like a sip of helium. “Jungkook, I’m close,” you pant.

“Yeah? Fuckyeah, give it to me.” Skin slaps. His thighs are aching, but he uses its last against your core, fucking the pair of you over it. He’ll hold it back or come to a release with a strangled groan, so he’ll beg for it like you’re gonna forget. “C-Cum, babe, I’m gonna—cum with you,” he groans, pays heed to every bounce and twinge and buck in your body to get off to.

“Fuuuck—there, there, there—“

“Gonnacum—jesus fuck,” he spasms, digs his hips into yours when he unravels and watches when your body twitches into tune. Almost like an instrument played back on track when your body softens with his and your breaths are evidently loud in the air, mouths parched. “Shit,” he exhales, crashing on you, scorching his face with your body warmth where he buries his head.

It takes seconds for you to remember you hadn’t even pulled off your chemise.

It’s a crisp night. Evidently and especially in a Jeon Corp service limo. Full tinted, glass windows that meet by the sides so the Secretary herself can choose what side of the city to overlook. After all, whatever she sees fit is what Jeon Jungkook gets for her, and that includes an eagle-eye’s peer over the roots of the city on the way home when he feels like he’s fucked her hard enough to tick something off his fetish bucket list—something the majority doesn’t see someone with such a youthful, handsome face as Jungkook’s tending to, but he does, and aces it, too.

You go home with Jeon Jungkook’s blazer over your crumpled chemise, a calculated step off the vehicle like in the films. What you don’t expect is Sang-hyuk, designated driver, handing you another beige bag, similar to where your slip had come from just about an hour ago. You peek in, enough to make out a gaping card with a Wear this next before you even find out what it is.

1K notes · View notes

sebbybooks · 5 years

Text

Beautiful Sinners (PT5)

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

Warnings: smut, language

“He’s slowly carving his name

into my heart and it hurts.”-K.C

Ella’s

POV

Growing up I would hear the saying if life gives you lemons make lemonade. Meaning despite the shitty predicament find a way to turn it into a positive. I was starting to wonder if my lemons came in the form of good looking guys strapped with explosives on standby ready to shake up my life any time they felt like it. After the smoke settles and I can somewhat see clearly somewhere down the line it ends up being my fault, because right now I couldn’t seem to stop falling into the wrong hands. Sebastian’s hands felt like a fiery trap and I was the naive moth aimlessly headed towards him.

As I guided Sebastian through the apartment lobby I made a beeline for the elevator careful to not draw a scene. I was still getting used to my temporary living situation and I didn’t want to cause trouble for my friends Matt and Greta. Looking at myself from another perspective due my sleep attire and Sebastian’s current state of inebriation we looked like a one night stand gone wrong. I rapidly pushed the arrow going up on the elevator cursing myself for my mother always having to be right. Her words from years ago echoed in my head as I crossed into the threshold entering the elevator with a silent Sebastian trailing behind me. I stared at the numbers as the floors went up watching as it grew higher and higher all the while hearing my mother’s shrill voice on loop in my ears taking me back to the place I used to hate. To me memories are a blessing and a curse. There are some you pray never fade away and others you spend your entire like hoping like hell to forget.

“Do you find enjoyment embarrassing me all the time Ella? Can’t you see that your actions make me look bad! You and your sister are always inviting trouble into your life like it is second nature to you.”

I didn’t realize I was in a trance until I felt a gentle hand press over my shoulder. Startled by his act of kindness my head snapped towards him only to see a pair of warm eyes filled with a genuine look of concern. Even with short tousled hair and a hooded stare he was still as irresistible and very much still unattainable as he was a few hours ago. Nothing within that brief window of time had changed that. My mind was filled with thoughts that darted between lust and heartache that I’d give anything to shut off. I hated that my body and brain refused to work together whenever I got near Sebastian. I took his actions as a platonic and completely friendly gesture, yet such a simple act made my skin grow hot under his touch. I started to feel heat everywhere. The phantom feeling traveled all over my body and suddenly I wasn’t that cold anymore. I was burning up and I needed to get away from him to salvage what decency and self respect I had left.

It was a cheap thrill that excited me and angered me all at once. I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t harbor any feelings for him. Though when I looked at him all I could see was Mary, then I immediately pictured my ex boyfriend Nate having carnal sex with her in our bed.Then the guilt and pain would shortly begin to consume me. I couldn’t seem to stop going through with this cycle of torment. For. Fucks. Sake! Did that make me a masochist?

“You must have selective amnesia.” I said to him to fill the silence between us.

“What makes you say that?” Sebastian shoved his hands in his tailored pockets and I forced myself not to stare at the tight fit.

“Because that shit show of a party ended hours ago. You should be back in your home, but here you are….again.” I smiled at him sarcastically.

I stared back into his gaze as if his face held all the answers that I needed.

Standing on the other side of the elevator facing me, Sebastian cocked his head to the side as if it wasn’t obvious. He sucked in a ragged breath, before letting out a dry laugh resting the back of his head on the wall. “Maybe I’m just having a hard time pulling myself away.” For a split second our eyes mirrored the same agony. Only his flash of doubt looked as if he had made a grave error by coming back here.

I forced my eyelids shut and inhaled deeply. What was I to say to that? Thank you? I’m flattered? Do you also tell your fiancée the same? Instead I ended up choosing the latter. Exhaling a pent up sigh I finally told him what I was going to do once we got upstairs. “As soon as we get in there I'm going to call you a cab I just need an address so the driver knows where to take you.”

Sebastian smiled wryly. "1500 S Purgatory Lane the zip code is 666"

“That is not funny." I lied. Living with Mary I wouldn’t picture anything less but the ongoing flames of hell.

The door to the elevator finally pinged opened and I couldn’t be more ecstatic to be headed back to the apartment. Though my elation only lasted for a millisecond. I could already picture the interrogation from my friends if they were to see us. My answers would unintentionally come out sounding vague, because truth was I didn’t know why he came back.

Just as I turned my head to tell Sebastian to not make a sound when we got inside I saw that he was leaning against the tattered tan wall a few paces behind me. I thought about rushing inside and locking the door to pretend that I imagined him. A sexy figment of my imagination I might add. The idea of Sebastian alone clearly not in the best state plagued my conscience and since I wasn’t heartless I realized I couldn’t leave him standing out there alone. Torn, I removed the hair tie from my wrist and pulled my hair up out of my face as I walked over to him.

“You and Greta need to lay off the booze for a while if it hits you this hard.” I inwardly cringed at my terrible attempt to make light of this confusing situation. I coughed out a nervous laugh.

“I got to see to you again, so it can’t be that bad despite its very questionable taste.” He replied, his voice came out in a deep husky rasp, that sent my hormones into overdrive. We stared at each other for a few short seconds both unsure of what was going to happen next. Our energy was a like seesaw it continuously went up and down. Right now it was way, way up. For the record I’ll admit in that moment I did not want to come down. “Let's get you inside.” My voice cracked.

Sebastian shook his head slowly in agreement before his gaze raked over my body like I was some delicious dessert and he was a man who was dying of hunger. He stepped closer to me causing our chest to come in close contact. We were flush against each other. I could feel the warmth of his body roll off of him and land directly onto me. No thanks to thin silk night top I was wearing that I was pretty sure was not doing a good job hiding the visible outline of my breast.

If the timing was right I would have wanted nothing more than to dissolve into him completely. By now I thought I would be repelled by this feeling, but it only heightened the longer I stayed around Sebastian. It was an exhilarating rush knowing that my figuratively dead heart could beat like this again. I felt an electric pulse sensually flow through me. My tongue went utterly dry, causing the sensation in my throat to feel like I had swallowed a shit ton of cotton balls. I had to lick my lips to coax moisture back into my mouth. “Do you think you can walk on your own from here?” I said as I backed up to put space between us. It was becoming pure unadulterated agony being this close to Sebastian.

“I’m sure I can manage.”Sebastian said as he cleared his throat. I wasn’t too convinced, but I wasn’t going to check either.

When I reached the door to the apartment I instantly felt regret that I had left it unlocked. I stopped thinking altogether when I got the text from Sebastian. I wrapped my hand around the doorknob carefully opening it so that it wouldn’t set off any alarms. I shot Sebastian a warning glance as I pushed in the door. “Don’t talk.” The last thing I needed was to wake up a hungover Greta and a pissed off boyfriend to match.

“What happens if we are caught?” Sebastian’s eyes danced with amusement, evidently ignoring the first rule.

“Nothing would happen, because we have nothing to hide.” I said matter of factly to Sebastian, who obviously by now could smell bullshit from miles away. “Why are you back here Sebastian?”

“I needed to hear the rest of the turtle story.”

“Im being serious right now Sebastian.”

“So am I Ella.” Sebastian whispered back as he lowered his chin, titling his head slightly to get a better view of my face. He was challenging me. I knew deep down in my gut if I told Sebastian I was uncomfortable with him being here. There was no doubt in my mind that he wouldn't hesitate to leave. In actuality I felt the opposite, it was strange seeing him again. Right now I was trying to decipher if that feeling was a good one. We were standing in the middle of the entryway of the apartment and I didn’t know where the hell to go from here.

“Mary is having a baby. Your Baby.” The words burst out of me painstakingly slow before I could stop myself. The air between us finally started to crack. Sebastian stiffened under my statement. It wasn’t that hard to figure out by seeing her again tonight. Despite her treating this place and my friends like we were all beneath her, that was nothing new. Mary didn’t touch any of the alcohol and it was out of character to see her eat so many mini turkey meatballs and pigs in a blanket. Plus she took a thousand and one bathroom breaks and her form fitting assemble didn’t hide her growing baby bump.

"She cheated on me." He enunciated. A shocked expression registered over my face. Before I could have time to process it all or even have time to blink Sebastian's voice cut through my thoughts. “And I think you and I both know who it was with.”

“Am I to just believe Mary just confessed all of that to you?” I asked hesitantly.

“After I left here tonight it wasn’t that hard to wrap my head around why Mary was so surprised that I knew you. Your boyfriend was Nathaniel Cooper am I right?”

“Nate.” I corrected.My heart suddenly clenched up like a tight fist was forming around it squeezing it tightly to remind me that it was still fragile from what he put me through. Nate was an enigma from the start and I was too blind to even see what was right in front of me. He rarely talked about his family or brought me around them. All I knew was his mother remarried a corporate attorney who had more money and power than King Midas ever did. When the question of introducing me to his parents came up his defense was that I hadn’t introduce him to my parents either. I had my reasons and he clearly had his. Nate made our relationship feel so clandestine and turns out it was it because he was reenacting scenes right out of a V.C Andrews novel with his step sister.

“What did you ever see in that narcissistic prick anyway? I know opposites attract but on the rare occasion I’m forced around him Cooper is nothing shy of being a piece of shit.”

“You said it yourself you barely know him.” I point out feeling defensive towards Nate. I should have felt indifferent towards him. I cried over him till I hated him. I did love Nate and it wasn’t too long ago.Sebastian flinched and rocks backward on his heel moving farther away from me. The apartment was so small I was practically standing in the kitchen and he was already half way into the living room. “You’re defending him now?”

“No.” I say softly, wishing I could shout it if that made him believe me. Exhaling a deep breath, “But it if I was what gives you the right to judge me?”

“I’m not judging you Ella. I just don’t get why you would do it in the first place. Do you not remember you were seconds away from leaving behind the life you built here, your job and your friends. All thanks to who?“

“What about you huh? You live in this constant state of misery all because you’re getting married? You walk around with this big ass chip on your shoulder and the solution to your problem is so simple. If you don’t want to marry her then don’t! No one is forcing you to do it. It would sure as hell make you stop acting like a hot headed asshole and maybe then you’ll stop thinking it’s ok to show up at my doorstep whenever it conveniences you.” For a split second I had forgotten that it was almost four in the morning and that I was suppose to be keeping the volume to a bare minimum. The frustration inside of me that I kept bottled up festered to the point even I couldn’t contain it any longer. I was growing impatient. A few seconds dragged on by before he spoke up.

“My situation is complicated.” Sebastian’s jaw ticks. Four words was all that I got from him.

“It’s complicated.” I repeated, swallowing my anger and feeling like I was at the end of my rope with this guy. He was a curiosity I was having a hard time figuring out. “Is that all I get?” I shrug my shoulders defeatedly as I stared at the outline of Sebastian’s back as he turned away from me. He didn’t say anything. I opened my mouth to let out a scream that never came. Our unlikely friendship puzzled my brain because I asked myself how well did I really know him? From the start he didn’t exactly know me either. If anyone was to ask me a personal question especially about my past all I avoided it at all cost. I was aware that I was giving him a hard time and I wasn’t fully sure if he deserved it or not.

At the time I couldn’t comprehend the muddled emotions I felt for him. It wasn’t like the fluttering feeling of butterflies you get when you see someone you wanted or wished you could have. With him it was like dangerous fireworks going off in my chest. First the subtle crackle to warn me, to tell me to run away before it all combust, until it is too late. The sparks are always beautiful at first, until it sizzles out and fades into nothingness. Fireworks were meant to only be a temporary enjoyment and I wasn’t looking for love.

“Well, now this is just awkward especially with you just standing there like the creepy Montresor and I’m the unsuspecting Fortunato unable to foresee my fate. Though I highly doubt you took my tantrum to heart and now feel insulted. It’s not like you did anything terrible, your wings are still intact.” My words hung in the air above us like a cumulonimbus cloud threatening to unleash its downpour.

Sebastian turns back around swiftly. The look he has in his eye sends a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and I am forcing myself to believe it is the ridiculous amount of sugar I ate that’s affecting me, and not Sebastian.

Tugging at his hair, he walked back in to the space of the kitchen. God this place really was small. “Just so we are clear my wings got ripped off long before I met you.” Mine were long gone too, I said only to myself. I should have asked Sebastian what he meant, instead I had to eventually learn it the hard way.

Clearing my throat I motioned my hands towards the kitchen. “Do you need anything like aspirin, water, the hair of the dog?” My voiced trailed off, tasting the bitter irony settling in. The Porter women in my family were all the same. We’d cut you with glass then tend to your wound afterward.

“You’re offering to fix me a Bloody Mary? So you do have a sense of humor after all.”Sebastian’s lips slightly curved upward, shocking my heart back to life.

“Something like that.” I say. If this was flirting then yep I was still awful at it. In my defense I had been out of practice. As I was about to head into the kitchen to keep myself occupied and away from unholy thoughts that kept creeping into my head. Just as I turned my body to move away from him, Sebastian caught my wrist in his hand. It didn’t alarm me in the least bit. I stared down in the dark at his fingers carefully wrapped around it holding onto to it like a lifeline.

Lifting my head to face him. I was surprised I was even able to say a one syllable word. “Yeah?”

“You still haven't done it.”Sebastian lowered his tone and the intensity never leaving his gaze.It only took Sebastian a couple of measly steps to just about close the gap between us. We always happened to find ourselves so close that we were practically about to kiss.I could already taste the moisture from his mouth onto my tongue. It was a mixture of Greta's cheap cherry wine and something entirely different. Something I wanted more of that only Sebastian could supply.

Sebastian's

POV

My goddamn voice was starting to not even sound like my own. It sounded guttural and like I was suffering from dehydration. I waited for any indication of her not wanting me standing here. At first Ella doesn’t say a word to me. Her honeyed color eyes slowly moved from my face to where I was holding her. I immediately let go of her wrist terrified that I was making matters worse. I didn’t come here for sex. I just wanted Ella in whatever form she gave me. I wanted her to know that I still had redeeming qualities and that I wasn’t always this fucked up. Showing up to women’s doorstep in the ass crack of dawn usually wasn’t my style. None of it mattered though because there were clearly two people holding us back. Yet they are the very who always get what they want so why can’t that be us?

“What are you talking about?” She blinked. Ella studied my face and I let her. There was so much I wanted to ask her. Things I desperately wanted her know, but how could I tell her that the one thing gnawing at my guts was her own sister. It was a small world and by some fucked up coincidence we were all linked together. Unlike her younger sister Ella didn’t dance with the devil to get what she wanted. On the day I met her Ella she was prepared to go back to a place that plagued her. Whereas the day I happened upon Skylar she was determined not to go back even it if cost me everything. Though I can’t blame the girl she was ballsy. Saying that she had a tenacious way about her was one way of putting it. If I told Ella the whole truth as to why I had to be with a woman I pretended to love for the sake of her father, Ella would surely understand, right? But if I came clean then I would have to stop pretending that there was some chance in hell that I would get the girl.

“What does your tattoo mean?” I asked only to change the subject. An unreadable expression colored her face. Like she was disappointed that I was keeping my need to pin her ass against the door on hold. Despite being called a hot headed asshole, I do consider myself a gentleman on the rare occasion. If she wanted me then by all means she could have me. As long as Ella stayed clear of my shit storm of a situation I was starting to give half a fuck at this point who my decisions affected.

She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion looking at me with a hopeless wonder. That’s exactly what I was, hopeless. “The arrowheads point in opposite directions, because at the time it was suppose to mean anywhere but here.” Something about the way she says it made it clear that there was story she didn’t want to tell. There was no denying that there was something reticent about her. Ella was the kind of person who references 19th century fiction and does it so casually. She was beautiful, smart, funny, sexy, pretty, and I realized I was starting to use synonyms but she was everything and above. An I wanted to savor every part of her.

“Ella.”

“Sebastian.” She mimicked my tone like I did before. Though this time it sounded like a restless and tormented need for what’s in front of the other.

“When I said you haven’t done it, what I meant to ask was why haven’t you kicked me out yet?” I finally ripped the damn bandaid off cause I needed to know. I couldn’t predict what would happen tomorrow, and how soon the truth would bite me in the ass.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to.” Ella raised her shoulders in a tiny shrug, “I know that sounds bad and that makes me look awful, but.” She cuts herself short.

“But what?” I wanted her to finish her sentence. To hear if she felt an inkling of what I did.

Ella falters.” But…” She bites down on her plump bottom lip that I am giving her the curtesy to deliberate for fifteen more seconds, before I bite it myself.

With seven seconds left on the clock she answered. “I don’t think I care.”

Throwing caution into the wind I bridged the small gap between us in this walk in closet sized kitchen. I carefully swiped the palm of my hand across her cheek, dying at how soft her skin was. Ella’s eyes fluttered close, her long dark eyelashes fanning over where my hand was. The pad of my thumb traced over the apple of her cheek, to the curve of her jaw, then brushing along the smoothness of her bottom lip. Her rounded upper lip was the same size as the bottom, creating a delicious pout that it was high time I tasted.

I eased my face forward as Ella angled her body closer to mine. To which I wouldn’t have had it any other way. We were passed the back and forth banter at this point. Whatever was going to happen was going to naturally happen. I glided my hands down to her waist feeling her body under the lightweight fabric. Ella surprises me by threading her fingers through my hair urging me closer. I knew she must’ve felt the damn near painful erection I was sporting. Briefly our eyes locked and without a word our lips finally touched in a featherlight kiss. It was so innocent and foreign to me that it caused a fiery sensation that was so intoxicatedly palpable from the minute we touched it tore me to fucking pieces. I pulled back to look at her and Ella’s gaze I’m sure matched the hunger in mine. Before I knew it our mouths were crashed back against one another and there was nothing innocent it about it this time.

Ella’s

POV

Sebastian kissed me with roughness and no restraint, yet somehow I craved more of it. It was as if every particle of my body itched to be near him and the feeling was driving me absolutely mad. He thrusted his tongue inside of my mouth in a deep, tormenting stroke. I parted my mouth wider to let him in and I moved my tongue against his in a languid speed. I tried to suppress the moan that escaped me, Sebastian muffled the sound with another ravenous kiss. His lips move at a wild and untamed speed, when I breathed for air he took it away. I rested my hands on his shoulders gripping them tightly as we fucked each other’s mouths. Greta would be so proud of my lewdness. There was simply no better way to put it. My morals were screaming he’s not yours, the reaction my body was creating said maybe he could be just this once.

Surely we weren’t going to have sex on the counter. I hadn't realized I was being lifted up. Sebastian grabbed ahold of my legs scooping me up with ease as if I was weightless. I settled against him and my legs voluntarily wrapped around his back. Already I was addicted and nothing had even happened. Sebastian pressed his fingers firmly on the apex of my thighs still never tearing his face away from mine. I gasped when I felt the coolness of his hand when it cupped and massaged away at my left tit. The pad of Sebastian’s thumb moved over my pierced nipple at slow and lazy pace, the guy made me wet in less than a minute of dry humping. My head was racing with the question, was I really going to go through with this? I had a knack for doing things I shouldn’t. I still had a couple of artifacts from my past to prove it and right now Sebastian’s hand was sensually toying with one of them. Could I really sleep with someone’s fiancé even if his situation really was “complicated”? Unwanted doubt started swirling around in my head making me feel unease, and that was the last thing I wanted to feel while being with him.

“I think we should-“ I couldn’t even get the rest of my words out. I swallow a groan because he started nipping and sucking at the base underneath my collar bone. Absolutely leaving no area of skin unmarked. Sebastian was driving away every practical thought from my head. I opened my eyes and watched as he followed a trail of wet kisses up my neck and my eyes only widened when I saw who was watching us from down the hallway. I jerked backward nearly injuring my tailbone trying to get off of the counter.

“Ella what’s wrong?” Sebastian face was flushed and his chest heaved out a breath, while his gaze held only worry for me.

I froze and stared passed him at the person whose face was marked with confusion , hurt and disappointment. I visibly wince from knowing what he must’ve thought of me. “Matt why are you up?” I stepped away from Sebastian, running my hands down my clothes trying to make myself look composed. Sebastian’s attention turned to the figure standing in the end of hall. I could only hope he was not standing there this entire time.

Looking as uncomfortable as I was starting to feel. Like a ghost Matt walked to where Sebastian and I was standing awkwardly like two teenagers that were busted. Matt looked over at Sebastian staring at him with disdain. I glanced up at Sebastian and his hard stare looked the same. The two of them hardly spoke at the party, yet there was some weird animosity brewing between them.

“Matt!” I called out again breaking him from this alpha pissing contest.

He could barely look at me. “I don’t even want to know what I just walked into, but since you are here also you probably don’t know either.” Matt said coldly.

“Know what?” Sebastian stood in front of me like a protective shield from Matt. This time Matt bothers to look at me and I just know I wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell me.

“You guys need to go to the hospital there’s been an accident.”

To be continued.

41 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

drawing new lines, chapter seven (branjie) - holtzmanns

AN: So…normally I’m a bit more on the ball with submitting to aq. Oops? This is chapter seven, but here’s the link to all the chapters in between. Most of you have been reading this story on ao3, too, so thank you so, so much for all the love and support for this fic. I appreciate every single message and they make me so happy. So, thank you. As usual, Writ continues to be the best beta and friend one could ask for.

(read on ao3) | word count: 3730 | tumblr: plastiquetiaras

“Here.” A’keria slams the burrito bowl down in front of Vanessa, and she can’t help but let out a delighted squeak.

“God, I could get used to not having to pack my lunch. This month is gonna be lit.”

“Don’t get too used to it.” A’keria snorts as she mixes up her own bowl. “It’s only for a month, as the bet specified.”

“Hey, I don’t care.” Vanessa’s voice is muffled as she tries to talk with a spoonful of the sweet, sweet rice, salsa, beans, chicken and vegetables in her mouth, but it’s hard. “Imma enjoy it.”

“Good, cause you earned it. Top ten things in my life that I didn’t need to see - you and Brooke practically fucking on the dance floor. Nasty hoes.” A’keria makes a face, and Vanessa grins right back at her while Silky snickers.

“You just jealous you ain’t got a blonde skyscraper on your arm.” Part of Vanessa still can’t believe it, really. That Brooke’s willing to do this with her. Not that she’s complaining in the least.

A’keria flips her hair over her shoulder. “I got my man, that’s all I need.”

“He’d rock a blond look though, I ain’t gonna lie.” Silky’s statement makes Vanessa pause, try to picture it.

“You’re right Silk, he totally would.”

“Enough about my non blond man.” A’keria takes another bite of her own burrito bowl before handing it to Silky to share. “What do you want for tomorrow’s lunch?”

Vanessa has to stop herself from practically rubbing her hands together with glee. “Lord almighty, I did not realize how great having my food brought to me would be. Pizza? Poutine? Gimme that unhealthy shit.”

Silky lets out a whistle. “Damn Vanj, you ain’t gonna try and look good for your girl?”

“It’s called happy relationship weight. Imma get it, cause I’m happy. And in a relationship, and she thinks I look good anyway.” As if Vanessa actually is in one. But hey, why not? She’s allowed to enjoy poutine.

“Brooke looks like she can lift you up with one hand, anyway.” A’keria’s tone is almost envious. Which is understandably, really, because her boyfriend is on the scrawny side.

“Damn, I should get her to try that. Do you think she would?” Vanessa remembers when she’d been dating Kameron, who’d brought her to the gym often. Kameron had picked her up once and done squats at the same time, and Vanessa would be lying if she said it hadn’t been fucking hot.

“You know her better than we do, Vanj. If she’d let you be a human barbell, go for it.” Silky shrugs. “I ain’t getting anyone to lift me anytime soon.”

“Imma go find her. Share some of this burrito bowl, ‘cause it’s technically her victory, too. Not that she knows about the bet.” Vanessa stands up, packing the burrito bowl up once more. It’s a bold faced lie, because Brooke does know, though Silky and A’keria don’t need to know that.

Brooke’s on the phone in her office when Vanessa pops by, the fingers of one of her hands pressing against her temple. She looks up, gives a small smile before turning back to the papers on her desk and ripping the person on the other end of the line a new one.

“No, we can’t use the support beams from the other manufacturer. I don’t care if it’s going to lower costs - it’s not going to matter if the structures collapse in five years because of faulty material and we’re the ones who get sued. So, save it.”

Vanessa plops down in the seat across from Brooke’s desk as quietly as she can, her eyes transfixed on Brooke. It’s kinda hot - Brooke yelling at someone on the other end of the line while completely maintaining composure. Not that Vanessa would ever admit it to her.

“You need to liaise with the first company again, because they’re the ones that have been working well this whole time. I need the estimate from them by tomorrow.” With that, Brooke slams the phone down, letting out a sigh. She shoots a small smile towards Vanessa. “Hey.”

Vanessa holds up the bowl. “Brought you some lunch, ‘cause I know your overworked ass ain’t eating.”

“I had a protein bar-”

“Rabbit food doesn’t count.” Vanessa pulls out the extra set of cutlery, lays it out for Brooke. She’s already had enough of the bowl, and Brooke looks tired enough that she needs as much as she can get.

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t rabbit food supposed to be what people call vegetables?”

“You telling me any sane human is gonna eat a protein bar for sustenance?” Vanessa can’t even picture having them on the regular, so tasteless and quite unlike the chewy bars of her childhood.

“Are you calling me nuts?” Brooke’s finally smiling, and it makes Vanessa’s heart grow when she sees it. She hates seeing how tired Brooke’s job makes her.

“Remember, you took us to a spin class for a date.” Of course, Vanessa had enjoyed the shit out of it, but she’s not gonna mention that to Brooke.

“I distinctly remember you having a great time.”

“Maybe.”

“Did you eat half of this already?” Brooke holds back a laugh when she takes her first spoonful, looking down at the already picked-over bowl.

“Hey, I was hungry.” Vanessa shrugs. “Plus, this is the start of the free food A’keria is giving me for the bet. Figured I’d share it with my partner in crime.”

“Well, that was very sweet of you.” Brooke’s voice is muffled by her bite, and the contrast is adorable from her blazer and the smell of her expensive perfume.

Brooke’s an enigma, a person with so many facets that Vanessa is relishing in the chance to discover. The fact that Brooke’s willing to open up to her more and more is Vanessa’s favourite part of the bet, mostly because she’s an open book herself. Because what people see with her is what they get.

“Gotta make sure you don’t waste away on me while yelling at your minions.” Vanessa snickers when Brooke makes a face at her.

“They’re not minions. Just people who should know how to do their jobs.” Brooke sighs, gathering the papers on her desk and pushing them to the side. “Don’t go into management. The title isn’t worth it.”

“Can you imagine me trying to get people to do shit? It would be a whole lotta yelling.” Vanessa tries to picture herself at a desk like Brooke’s, having to spearhead projects and be responsible for them. At least she’d get to wear a power suit.

“You’d be good at it, though. You have charisma, the kind that most people don’t and the kind that can’t be bought.” Brooke takes another bite of the bowl. “Dang, this is good.”

Vanessa raises a skeptical brow. “What do you mean, charisma?” She’s just her natural dumbass self, which pays off sometimes.

“I mean, you convinced me to fake date you thirty or so seconds after introducing yourself. I’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

Vanessa snickers as she leans back in her seat, resisting the urge to lift her feet up onto the chair. “True.”

It’s funny to think back to that day months ago, when Vanessa had barged into Brooke’s office, convinced she’d be able to get her to agree with no evidence to back her up aside from sheer dumb confidence. Though it had worked by some miracle, something that still surprises Vanessa every now and then - and she’s sure that it’s the same for Brooke, too.

Brooke lets out a contented sigh when she finishes the bowl, pushing it away from her on the desk. “So, are you going to share all of your lunches with me from now on?”

Vanessa doesn’t miss a beat. “Why, Miss Hytes, are you asking me to lunch for the next twenty nine days?”

Brooke rolls her eyes, but grins nonetheless. “Only if the food is good.”

“You can bet on that.”

Brooke really, really doesn’t want to go out.

It’s a Friday, she’s had a long week. Really, all she wants to do is curl up on the couch with her cats.

But Nina’s birthday only comes once a year, and she’s a good friend, and so she has to choose a dress from her closet even though pyjamas sound like an infinitely comfier option right now.

The buzzing from her phone on her bed distracts her from her closet dilemma, and so she hangs the dresses in her arms back up in favour of checking her texts.

VVM: Kahanna is singing along to the radio

VVM: AND RILEY IS DUETING WITH HER

VVM: we bout to get complaints from the neighbours at any moment but this shit is hilarious

BLH: Omg. Send me a video

The resulting video from Vanessa makes Brooke crack up, because Riley’s spinning around and howling in the same key as Kahanna is singing. The best part of the video though, is the shaky quality of it, because Vanessa seems to be giggling too hard while filming to hold the camera straight.

BLH: These two need Grammys

VVM: RIGHT! IM SAYIN

VVM: I wanna join in but I’m afraid of ruining it

VVM: anyways how’s your evening going, blondie?

BLH: Trying to choose an outfit. Nina’s birthday and she wants to go clubbing, as if we’re not too old.

VVM: speak for yourself, grandma, some of us are still young

VVM: that being said, you’re not too old for clubbing at all

VVM: show me some of those outfits

BLH: Like, take pictures of them?

VVM: yeah

VVM: better yet, facetime me

It seems like as good of an option as any. Maybe Vanessa can help her decide.

Vanessa picks up the call on the first ring, Riley’s singing reverberating loud and clear in the background. “Hold up, lemme go to my room and close the door. These opera singers be too fucking loud.”

Brooke watches as Vanessa falls back onto her bed, her hair fanning out all around her. “There. Much more comfy. Now, show me some outfit options.”

“Let me prop my phone up on my dresser, hold on.” Brooke leans it carefully so that she can get a clear, hands free shot of herself, and gives a little wave to the camera.

Vanessa giggles on the other end of the line. “Hi to you too, you dork.”

“Okay, help me decide, I’m stuck. Mostly ‘cause I don’t wanna go.” Brooke pulls out a couple dresses and lays them on her bed. “I guess I’ll just hold them up one at a time, or something?”

“Nuh uh. You gotta try them on, give me the full fantasy.” Vanessa snuggles further into her pillows on screen, and it makes Brooke raise an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“Fine.” Maybe it’ll be fun, help Brooke decide a little better.

She pulls out a blazer dress, steps out of the frame to try it on. When she comes back, Vanessa is nodding appreciatively.

“Okay, I could get into this. Suits you.”

“Yeah?” Brooke faces the screen, turns a little so she can see her back. “I dunno if I wanna wear long sleeves tonight, though.”

“Clubs do get warm.” Vanessa shrugs. “What other options you got?”

“How about this?” Brooke steps back in front of the screen after shimmying into her knee length, floral form fitting dress, one which she doesn’t pull out often because of how long it takes to take off when she has to pee. But it feels like a good option.

“Woah.” Brooke’s almost not sure if she hears the words or not, but Vanessa’s eyes are wide as she shuffles closer to the screen, and Brooke has to bite back a smirk.

“Yeah?” Brooke puts her hands on her waist, turns slightly so that Vanessa can see what it looks like from the back. She knows what she’s doing.

It works, from the way Vanessa gulps.

Brooke knows that the two of them have chemistry. She hasn’t forgotten the holiday party, hasn’t forgotten the way it felt to have Vanessa gasping into her mouth. The way Vanessa had pulled her closer, the way Brooke hadn’t stopped wanting to kiss her, either.

Well. They’re not actually together. But it’s nice to know she has chemistry with her fake girlfriend, at least. Sells the fantasy.

Because that’s what this is about - being believable.

That’s it.

Right?

The club is a lot more boring to Brooke when she doesn’t feel like dancing with anyone.

It’s too sweaty, that’s why. The club feels like it’s a million degrees, and adding dancing to the mix will only make it worse. Heck, Brooke’s sitting at the bar in front of a fan that is directly blowing cool air at her, and she’s still sweating like crazy.

That’s why she doesn’t want to dance.

All of Brooke’s friends are on the dance floor with their respective partners - save for Courtney, who’s found a girl for herself to make out with in the corner of the club. Brooke can’t help but feel…bored. Why dance anyway, when it’s too warm and sweaty and crowded? Why talk up a girl when-

When she has Vanessa?

Technically, Brooke doesn’t have Vanessa. They’re not dating. She has to remember that.

But they did sign a contract together, saying that they won’t mess around with others while doing this. Yes, that’s why Brooke is staying away from chatting up nearby girls. Because she has a commitment to keep. Not that she really wants to talk to other girls in the first place. But her gin and tonic is nearly done and she needs another if she’s going to be at this bar for any longer, so she signals to the bartender and opens up her phone while she waits.

BLH: Help, the club is boring

BLH: I’m wasting away at the bar

VVM: omg

VVM: go dance, you’re at a club

BLH: I don’t wanna

BLH: Stinky guys

VVM: stinky, huh?

BLH: You need to spray your perfume on them. You smell so much better

VVM: weird compliment, but I’ll take it

VVM: we should go out dancing. I’d give you such a better time

BLH: Would you, now?

VVM: you know it, blondie

VVM: let’s do that for another date

Brooke is reminded of the holiday party, of how they’d danced pressed up against one another and how it was fucking hot. The chance to do something like that again with Vanessa? She’ll take it.

BLH: You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of me

VVM: you say that as if you’d be able to keep yours off of me

VVM: I know how much you love grabbing my ass

VVM: not that I’m complaining about it

Brooke smirks at her phone screen. She remembers how Vanessa had keened into her touch, spurred her on to keep going with little gasps into the crook of her neck. Dating or not dating, Brooke loves how easy Vanessa has been to take apart. She wants to do it again.

BLH: Interesting. Noted.

It’s funny. When she and Vanessa had signed their list, they had agreed on light PDA only. But there’s a part of Brooke that wants more more more, that wants Vanessa on her arm and wants everyone to know it. That Vanessa’s hers, that she’s the one who gets to take Vanessa home every night.

Brooke almost wishes that those things were actually true.

“C’mon, Nina. There you go, come on out of the Uber. Small steps, don’t slip on the ice.” Brooke wraps one of her arms around Nina’s waist, holds her up as they head to Nina’s apartment.

“Ugh. It’s too cold.” Nina leans her head on Brooke’s shoulder, and Brooke reaches out to pat her hair.

“Almost inside. You got your keys?”

Nina fiddles in her pockets for a good thirty seconds before pulling them out, holding them towards Brooke. “Please?”

“I got you.”

Brooke is usually the supportive friend in situations like these for Detox, helping her get home in one piece after she’s had too much to drink. Nina’s not usually the one to need it, but Brooke had found her in the club bathroom leaning against the mirror and sniffling about her fiancé. Considering the fact that they’d gone out for Nina’s birthday in the first place? Brooke had felt her duty calling.

“I don’t feel so well. That car ride was fast.” Nina rubs at her eyes as Brooke tries to get her coat off, pushing it off her shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack.

“Bathroom first, then.”

Nina sighs, resting her head against the lid of the toilet after sitting down on the ground. The scene feels reminiscent of Brooke’s undergraduate days, when she’d partied too much and absolutely did some damage to her poor liver. She pulls Nina’s hair back, has to keep her nose from wrinkling when Nina lets out a retch.

“Thanks, B.” Nina sighs when she lifts her head up, only to turn back towards the toilet to throw up again.

Brooke’s definitely been there before.

“No worries. It’ll feel better when it’s out of your system, anyway.” Brooke rubs her back, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible because she knows Nina’s probably got a pounding headache, too. “Now, tell me. What made you drink so much today and end up crying by yourself on your birthday?”

Brooke’s surprised by it, really. Nina’s usually the one who takes care of everyone else like its second nature, because she has a high tolerance herself. Which means that to reach this current point tonight, she’s probably had a lot to drink. Which also means that something has to have really rattled her to get her here, bent over the toilet and looking slightly green.

“It doesn’t matter.” Nina mumbles the words, looking down, and Brooke puts a hand on her shoulder, gives her a little squeeze.

“Course it does. You can talk to me.”

Nina finally, finally looks at her, and Brooke can see the dimmed sparkle in her eyes, the sadness along her features. No, not sadness - more defeat.

“Am I making a mistake, Brooke? Marrying Ben?”

Booke pulls back in surprise. “What? What do you mean?”

Brooke has multiple friends that are in long term relationships and Nina’s, by far, always has looked the steadiest. The most wholesome. Nina never shuts up about her fiancé, telling Brooke all the time about the picnics he takes her on or the gifts he gets her or how they’re absolutely soulmates. Nina’s always looked happy, truly happy with her man, something that Brooke has loved to see, because Nina’s the kind of person who believes in true love. In a happily ever after. And, up until this moment, Brooke has believed that Nina’s been living exactly how she’s always dreamed of.

But what if she hasn’t?

“It’s just-it’s good. But it’s also just good, y’know? He brings me flowers and always opens doors for me and snuggles me at night but…” Nina lifts her head, looks at Brooke, and her face is more lost than Brooke has ever seen it. “I don’t feel anything else with him. Like, it’s happy, it’s good, he’s good, but-”

Nina cuts herself off, takes a deep breath as she lifts her left hand up, holds it out in front of them. The sparkling bling on her ring finger reflects sparkles along the bathroom tiles and walls, ones that make Nina wince when they shine on her face.

“I just don’t know. I’m not feeling what I’m supposed to feel, y’know?” Nina sits back, scooches away from the toilet to lean against the wall.

Brooke joins her because really, does she have anywhere else to be? She doesn’t know what to do though, not when Nina’s looking so forlorn and lost and all Brooke wants is be there for her, somehow, even though she’s never felt the way Nina is feeling right now.

So Brooke leans her head on Nina’s shoulder, feeling the comforting warmth of Nina leaning her head against hers, too. “I dunno, babe. I wish I could tell you I had the answer, or how to make things magical, but I have none of those answers. All I know is that you deserve to be happy. You deserve the ending that you’ve always wanted. I think you need to first figure out exactly what that is.”

Nina sighs, twisting her ring on her finger. “I have no idea what that is.”

“No need to decide on your birthday with a tipsy brain. It can wait.” Brooke unfolds herself from the ground, gets herself up before holding her hands out to Nina so that she can help her up, too.

“C’mon. Let’s get you into bed.”

The conversation replays in her mind, though, as she Ubers home from Nina’s. It makes no sense - how has Nina lost that spark with her fiancé, when they’ve always looked so stable? Did Nina ever really have it in the first place? Or did she just think she did? Was the way Nina had felt in the bathroom just cold feet, or was it something bigger?

And then there’s that spark Nina had talked about in the first place. Brooke tries to picture what it would feel like, what the concept of sparks flying actually even means. Fireworks and butterflies and falling head over heels? Hell, Brooke feels fireworks when she kisses Vanessa, but it’s only because she’s kissing a pretty girl after ages and ages and fully enjoying it. The concept of sparks flying feels elusive, something that could be searched for forever and ever without ever truly being found. It feels similar to the way that Vanessa’s looking for her true love and Princess Charming, and how she’s absolutely convinced that she’ll know when she finds her.

It feels like everyone has a radar for knowing these kinds of things except for Brooke. Not that Brooke minds, not really. Being in search of something that’ll never be in reach seems fruitless. Unnecessary. Especially when she has other things she’d rather be spending her time on.

Quite frankly? Brooke’s good with just her cats and friendship - especially Vanessa’s.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #fake dating #lesbian au #drawing new lines #holtzmanns

7 notes · View notes

somnilogical · 5 years

Text

transfem protestors released info that moved 350000$ of donations from miri. because miri is an evil org, they decided to lie about why they think it happened and say its really confusing. i know the answer to this ~mystery~, i know why this year was different; i can talk about it in public, they cant. cuz im freeee from CDT PR. i can decide to lazily choose an algorithm that optimizes utility in multiverse, not just institute whatever choice seems to give most utility "going forward".

<<Our fundraiser fell well short of our $1M target this year, and also short of our in-fundraiser support in 2018 ($947k) and 2017 ($2.5M). It’s plausible that some of the following (non-mutually-exclusive) factors may have contributed to this, though we don’t know the relative strength of these factors:>>

https://web.archive.org/web/20200214061634/https://intelligence.org/2020/02/13/our-2019-fundraiser-review/

they then go on to list eight pretty thin excuses. you know perfectly well why this year is different from all other years, MIRI. your ""speculations"" are fake.

a small group of transfems moved ~350,000$ from your ineffective charity.

i suppose eight of these factors also account for why CFAR extended their fundraiser 5 days longer than announced after donations were super low?

or maybe there is a more compact generator for both of these events: whistleblowers protested what you have been doing releasing lots of marginal information and donors saw this.

i know why this year is different, you know why this year is different. Colm Ó Riain you are facilitating MIRI lying, hoping that if one doesnt mention something, people wont pay attention to it.

like lying in such a way that you wouldnt be held legally culpable, because you could say in front of a court with low schelling reach "you cant prove what i was thinking". except i dont care about legal culpability, i care about causal entanglement. you heard about the protests (or, much less likely, were kept from hearing about these protests somehow by a distributed version of this algorithm set one personstep back), you have > 1/100 intelligence. your omission of this is deception.

is <<In past years, when answering supporters' questions about the discount rate on their potential donations to MIRI, we've leaned towards a "now later" approach. This plausibly resulted in a front-loading of some donations in 2017 and 2018.>> really more plausible than "there was an entire protest against MIRI and CFAR's support of UFAI. people reacted strongly to this, it shows up in the donations.¹"?

it would have come up on a list that scrapes the bottom of the barrel for plausible causes in a counterfactual world in which you werent optimizing for good PR. an AU in which you were searching for and publicising how things were causally entangled.

¹see, for instance, the Patrick LaVictoire who had aggregate donations of:

25,885$ november 26 2018

35,885$ august 29 2019

117,199$ february 14 2020

giving diffs of 10,000$ and 81,314$ to estimate 2018 and 2019 donation periods. iirc at some point the diff was 81,000$, id guess at some point afterwards they donated \floor{100π}$. https://web.archive.org/web/20200601000000*/https://intelligence.org/topcontributors/

and then went on to do the standard antitransfem thing calling ziz a "gross uncle" style abuser who just wants status like brent.

https://pastebin.com/TUZ7EThz

with their evidence being someone kaj said it, and kaj's evidence being that ziz said:

<<> I asked Person A if they expected me to be net negative. They said yes. After a moment, they asked me what I was feeling or something like that. I said something like, “dazed” and “sad”. They asked why sad. I said I might leave the field as a consequence and maybe something else. I said I needed time to process or think. I basically slept the rest of the day, way more than 9 hrs, and woke up the next day knowing what I’d do. [...]

> In the case that I’d be net negative like I feared, I was considering suicide in some sense preferable to all this, because it was better causal isolation. However, despite thinking I didn’t really believe in applications of timeless decision theory between humans, I was considering myself maybe timelessly obligated to not commit suicide afterward. Because of the possibility that I could prevent Person A and their peers from making the correct decision for sentimental reasons. [...]

> I was very uncomfortable sharing this stuff. But I saw it as a weighing on the scales of my personal privacy vs some impact on the fate of the world. So I did anyway. [...]

> I tried to inner sim and answer the question. But my simulated self sort of rebelled. Misuse of last judge powers. Like, I would be aware I was being “watched”, intruded upon. Like by turning that place into a test with dubious methodology of whether I was really a delusional man upon which my entire life depended, I was having the idea of Heaven taken from me. [...]

> I made myself come up with the answer in a split second. More accuracy that way. Part of me resisted answering. Something was seriously wrong with this. No. I already decided for reasons that are unaffected. that producing accurate information for person A was positive in expectation.>>

which doesnt sound at all like brent or other people ive encountered who were chronically angsty about status.

im going to write more about this and others in another post but like okay:

[1] ppl with high current or natal testosterone (centrally but not exclusively cis men) keep doing this thing where they mind-project that everyone else has the same degree of status sensitivity and unreflecticity upon it as them when actually this is hormonally mediated.

ziz has a natally & currently estrodized brain and from my observations doesnt have that submodule testosteronized. people with PCOS like ilzo have mentioned that they had masculinized status sensitivity modules, lex somni and some cis guy all tried increasing testosterone and noticed status-sensitivity went up, without looking for this effect in the first place. there are papers on it. your experiences are not universal.

[2] but also this isnt really a "belief", its a coordination mechanism. in the same way "its in black peoples nature to be servile" was a coordination mechanism for slavery rather than a "belief". humans actually can use evidence efficiently and see, for instance, in the antebellum south that black people were human just the same as anyone else. but the local social positionality and what they valued made it more advantageous to verbally report otherwise.

similarly for any minority. "*phobia" is the wrong word, its not fear its a schelling coordination mechanism that humans can expect most of society to have their backs on when bad times happen. which tracks what social justice theorists mean by this stuff being "structural". its not about some emotion of hatred or fear against the specific phenotype of "black skin" or "gender divergence" its about what humans can coordinate against.

hence the use of "antitransfem" instead of "transphobia", i picked this up from ziz and gwen and later noticed it mirroring the form of "antiblack". i wonder if antiblack was coined after encountering a similar issue.

[3] you parted with a marginal 71,000$ (compared to what id expect in a counterfactual world without a protest given your lifetime donation total was 35,885$ and you donated 10,000$ last year.) to protect a UFAI org. is this not an amazing amount of "subservience" to MIRI? anarchotransfems getting together to protest the present omnicide isnt "subservience". the transfems protesting against google being evil werent "subservient", but the employees at google who fired them out were.

its amusing watching this one narrative being tiled everywhere, but with different targets. the authoritarians did the same thing to emma goldman. ▘▕▜▋ says emma and somni are haxing a clueless ziz to "bully" people, linta said somni was infohazardously corrupting people, CFAR affiliates say ziz was 'whipping people into a frenzy' and 'demanding subservience' from them. im going to write a post about this.

#more institutional gaslighting #justice justice #这个时候��在路上遇到的所有人都是向你索命的孤魂野鬼 #why is this year different from all other years #lots of people at miri besides this person looked over their post and did nothing

6 notes · View notes

fierceawakening · 5 years

Text

Against empathy 17

“Finally, empathy is related to compassion and concern, and sometimes the terms are used synonymously. But compassion and concern are more diffuse than empathy. It is weird to talk about having empathy for the millions of victims of malaria, say, but perfectly normal to say that you are concerned about them or feel compassion for them. Also, compassion and concern don’t require mirroring of others’ feelings. If someone works to help the victims of torture and does so with energy and good cheer, it doesn’t seem right to say that as they do this, they are empathizing with the individuals they are helping. Better to say that they feel compassion for them.”

But what’s compassion? In the neuroscience it seems to be “empathy + motivation to help” or sometimes, if the study is noting thei differences, something like “awareness + motivation to help.” Which would make compassion something more than a feeling?

I’m not as wedded to this, most common usage suggests compassion is a feeling. But If it is... if it’s com with + passion suffering/intense feeelong, that sounds a lot like affective empathy. So ???? What is

“But this claim about the relationship between empathy and certain good traits is an empirical one, something that can be tested using standard psychological methods. For instance, you can measure someone’s empathy and then look at whether high empathy predicts good behaviors such as helping others. Now this is easier said than done. It’s hard to accurately measure how empathic a person is. But there have been various efforts, and it turns out that the relationship between empathy and goodness is weak. In fact, we’ll see that there is some evidence that high empathy for the suffering of others can paralyze people, lead them to skewed decisions, and often spark irrational cruelty.”

Oo! Data! Forthcoming data, at least.

“If it turned out that the first fact follows from the second—that the nastiness associated with psychopathy is due to an empathy deficit—that would be an excellent case for the importance of empathy. But this is also the sort of thing that you can test in the lab, and it turns out to be unsupported. As we’ll see, the problems with psychopaths may have more to do with lack of self-control and a malicious nature than with empathy, and there is little evidence for a relationship between low empathy and being aggressive or cruel to others.”

Oo! Data! x2!

Very interested in what a malicious nature is, and whether it includes responses to others emotions. Nonconsensual sadism, for example, seems malicious and also seems like a response grounded in emotion. “I feel happy re your pain” vs “I feel sad re your pain”

“Think about your judgments about throwing garbage out of your car window, cheating on your taxes, spraying racist graffiti on a building, and similar acts with diffuse consequences. You can appreciate that these are wrong without having to engage in empathic engagement with any specific individuals, real or imagined.”

But those are bad because they upset or harm other people. Being aware that they do is part of why I don’t do them. Have we established that not wanting to upset or harm others is distinct from empathy? You assert that it is but I’m still not sure what you’re saying the mechanisms are. To the data!

“But, again, it’s easy to see that this is a mistake from everyday examples. I see a child crying because she’s afraid of a barking dog. I might rush over to pick her up and calm her, and I might really care for her, but there’s no empathy there. I don’t feel her fear, not in the slightest.”

Do you have to literally feel her fear to empathize with her? Or is it enough to, say, wince when she cries?

“Then there is all the laboratory evidence. We’ll see research from the lab of Tania Singer and her colleagues showing that feeling empathy for another person is very different from feeling compassion for that person—distinct in its brain basis and, more important, in its effects.”

That will help.

“We’ll learn about research into the effects of mindfulness meditation suggesting that the boost in kindness that this practice results in part because meditation allows one to stanch one’s empathy, not expand it.”

So will that. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen studies claiming the opposite. Huh.

““Reason,” David Hume famously said, is the “slave of the passions.” Good moral deliberation requires valuing some things over others, and good moral action requires some sort of motivational kick in the pants. Even if one knows the best thing to do, one must be motivated to do it. I believe this—I’ve never heard a good argument against it.”

Dances in the end zone.

“But it’s a mistake to see this as an argument for empathy. The “passions” that Hume talks about can be many things. They can be anger, shame, guilt, or, more positively, a more diffuse compassion, kindness, and love. You can be motivated to help others without empathy.”

Once again, I’m wondering how you define more diffuse here, but if you dohave data, I concede you may be right.

“He considers empathy but then rejects it as too weak: “it is not that feeble spark of benevolence which Nature has lifted up in the human heart.” Instead he pushes for some combination of careful deliberation and a desire to do the right thing.”

Where does the desire to do the right thing come from? That’s the dispute we’re having, or part of it anyway.

“I agree with this as well. Empathy can be used to support judgments and actions that, when we reason about them coolly, are morally virtuous. If the right thing to do is to give food to a homeless child, then empathy for the suffering of the child can motivate this giving. If the right thing to do is to expand our moral compass to include members of a once-despised group, empathy for members of that group can bring us there.”

Are you me? Because this is what im saying, that we have feelings and we check them against our reason and then act.

Sometimes we don’t have to check them against our reason, though, and that’s where we disagree. If my friend is sad, I can generally assume I don’t have to doubLe check whether I should comfort them (though I might ask if they’re a hugger) because daily life involves lots of shortcuts and they’re not alwTz bad.

“I have a personal example of this. When I was a graduate student, I read an article by Peter Singer arguing that citizens of prosperous countries should direct most of their money toward helping the truly needy. Singer argued that choosing to spend our money on luxuries like fancy clothing and expensive meals is really no different from seeing a girl drowning in a shallow lake and doing nothing because you don’t want to ruin your expensive shoes by wading in to save her. I was moved by this argument and would repeat the analogy to my friends, often when we were in bars and restaurants, and it suddenly occurred to me that we were engaged in the moral equivalent of killing children.”

I’m... I’m glad you don’t do something you believe is evil but that doesn’t hold at all.

“In Larissa MacFarquhar’s recent book, Strangers Drowning, she talks about the lives of do-gooders or “moral saints.” These are people who devote their lives to others. They know that there is immense suffering in the world, and unlike almost everyone else, they can’t direct their attention elsewhere; they are driven to help. Some of the individuals she profiles are deliberative and rational, similar to Zell Kravinsky.... But others who are profiled by MacFarquhar are individuals of feeling; they are emotionally moved by the suffering of others. This sensitivity often makes them miserable, but it can also push them to make a difference in ways that most of us would never even contemplate.”

Thanks for poin ting this out. It’s fascinating for one, but for two...

I do not at all consider myself a moral saint, but I do think I attempt to do good for the second reason. I suffered a great deal as a child and I feel strongly that the buck stops with me. I can’t save everyone, but the thought of anyone going through what I did if I can stop it revolts me, so I act.

When you tell me this revulsion SHOULD NOT motivate me, I don’t know what to do with that, sir.

Because I suspect you would approve of the actions I take or try to, but I don’t know that I can promise you I will keep doing them if I try to somehow force myself not to imagine the suffering of disabled kids like me.

THAt is why I disagree with you. Because I literally can’t promise I’ll keep going if I ignore the way I feel. And I know you’d rather I be mr. Kravinsky because you’re a singer fanboy

But I’m not.

“Or consider a recent study by Abigail Marsh and her colleagues, of people who choose to donate their kidneys to strangers. Consistent with my argument, these exceptionally altruistic individuals do not score higher on standard empathy tests than normal people. But they are different in another way. The researchers were interested in the amygdala—a part of the brain that is involved in, among other things, emotional responses. Their previous research had discovered that psychopaths had smaller than normal amygdalae and lessened response when exposed to pictures of people who looked frightened, so they predicted that these do-gooders would have larger than normal amygdalae and greater than normal response to fear faces. This was exactly what they found.”

I’ve heard that too but I heard that having the big amygdala IS associated with high empathy. Which I figured stood to reason because higher abilitgy to pick up fear from faces is reading emotions and parsing people’s emotions is necessary to vicariously feel them.

Interested to look that one up.

“Our bias shows up when we think about the power of fiction to stir up our empathy. Many, including myself, have argued that novels like Uncle Tom’s Cabin and Bleak House prompted significant social change by guiding readers to feel the suffering of fictional characters. But we tend to forget that other novels push us in different ways. Joshua Landy provides some examples: For every Uncle Tom’s Cabin there is a Birth of a Nation. For every Bleak House there is an Atlas Shrugged. For every Color Purple there is a Turner Diaries, that white supremacist novel Timothy McVeigh left in his truck on the way to bombing the Oklahoma building.”

This I agree with. I just think it’s important to use both empathy and reason because of this thing.

“The good news is that there are other ways to change people’s minds. We can, for example, use the truth. I know, that’s very old-fashioned. But consider An Inconvenient Truth, Al Gore’s documentary about climate change. That film did a huge amount for the environmental movement, all without making up a single lovable character or a single line of witty repartee.”

Okay but are you sure no one is empathizing with victims of climate disaster when watching it?

“But there is a continuum here. On the one extreme is empathy. This is the worst. Then somewhere in the middle is compassion—simply caring for people, wanting them to thrive. This has problems as well but fewer of them, and we’ll see that there is experimental evidence—including both neuroimaging studies and research on the effects of meditative practice—suggesting that compassion has some advantages over empathic engagement.”

A definition! Stop hiding those in walls of text, bruh.

Still interested in how caring doesn’t ultimately come from emotions about others also. To the data!

“Reason is subject to bias—we are imperfect beings—but at its best it can lead to moral insight. It is reason that leads us to recognize, despite what our feelings tell us, that a child in a faraway land matters as much as our neighbor’s child, that it’s a tragedy if an immunization leads to a child getting sick or if a furlough program leads to rape and assault—but if these programs nonetheless lead to an overall improvement in human welfare, we should keep them until something better comes along.”

Agree.

“I don’t mean to rag on my colleagues, but there is a certain lack of self-awareness about this point. It is one of the ironies of modern intellectual life that many scholars insist that rationality is impotent, that our efforts at reasoning are at best a smoke screen to justify selfish motivations and irrational feelings. And to make this point, these scholars write books and articles complete with complex chains of logic, citations of data, and carefully reasoned argument. It’s like someone insisting that there is no such thing as poetry—and making this case in the form of a poem.”

I’ve noticed that too. But I’m not sure this is totally fair. What I see (that I think makes sense) is the argument that we are more emotion driven creatures than we admit, and that often we hold to the idea that something is rational if we THINK we haven’t emoted about it.

I think this is often untrue, and that were actually less likely to err if we are reflective enough to admit “my emotions and my reason seem to concur on this point.”

“To take a specific case, I will argue that our empathy causes us to overrate present costs and underrate future costs. This skews our decisions so that if, say, we are faced with a choice where one specific child will die now or twenty children whose names we don’t know will die a year from now, empathy might guide us to choose to save the one. To me, this is a problem with empathy.”

Not a utilitarian, so unsurprisingly I don’t automatically agree. If I kill someone and explain I meant to save others in the next generation, cool motive. Still murder.

#the empathy discussion #against empathy liveblog

3 notes · View notes

angelicrebelsworld · 5 years

Text

Tite Photography

What services do you offer?

5 hours ago

Im Am my Own Attorney Sir!! (PRO SE) THAT WHAT HAPPENS IN CIVIL COURT.. CRIMINAL COURT THEY APPOINT YOU AN ATTORNEY!! DID YOU MISS THE MEMO. NOW YOU WHERE IN COURT WITH ME WHEN THE JUDGE GAVE THE BRIEFING SCHEDULE ORDER WTF WOULD I BE CONTACTING YOU IF YOU DIDNT OWE ME MONEY. BECAUSE YOU DO NOT REPEAT OWN A BUSINESS NAMED (TITEPHOTOGRAPHY) & ive Already FILED MY COMPLAINT AGAINST YOU. I DNT HAVE A LETTER STATING I OWE YOU SHIT. AND I HAVE FOLLOW SHIT. (FYI) BECAUSE THE ORDER IS BASE OF MY RESPONSE TO THE HEARING WE HAD DEC 19, 2020V@ 9:15AM FOR YOUR DAMAGES.. NOW SUMBODY IS GONNA TELL ME HOW THE FUCK I OWE YOU MONEY AND CAUSE YOU DAMAGES ON A BUSINESS YOU BROUGHT NO PROVE TO COURT YOU OWN.. NO TAX DOCUMENTS/ PERMITS/LICENSE. JUST NOW THIS WHAT I SENT YOUR ATTORNEY. NOW IM NOT SURE IF YOU GOT THE MEMO!! OR A CERTIFIED LETTER FROM LAYWER. HOW DID YOU PROVE YOUR CASE?? I HAVE RECEIPTS(CERTIFIED)💪 NOW THIS IS THE SECOND TIME I SPOKE YOU IN A WEEK.. IF YOU DIDNT KNO YOU HAVE BEEN SERVED📷🎯📷 (PERSONAL SERVICE) YOU BE HEARING FROM ME SOON AGAIN. TRUST😘

5 hours ago

I’ll let you figure it out in court. I have noted this as harassment. If there is anymore that you need to say i advise you to go through the court.