#maybe it's just a quirk of the french language who knows

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

since i’d already played the original trilogy approximately seven million times in french, i finally got round to playing french apollo justice instead. just finished it and hoooo boy was this localisation just as interesting

just like in the og trilogy, the entire thing now takes place in france (presumably paris, though they didn’t specify in this one). at least there aren’t earthquakes this time so it doesn’t feel quite as surreal.

apollo’s “i’m fine!” catchphrase is now “tout va bien !” which means “everything’s fine!”

some of the names have been translated again. for example, trucy is now called “Vérité” which not only is the french form of the english name “Verity”, but it also is the literal french word for “truth”, which gives some dialogues a double meaning whenever they’re discussing the truth. “Vous dites... la vérité... Apollo Justice... ?”

they did not change lamiroir’s name. they did however change machi tobaye to “Tomas Kashkash”, make of that what you will

in the first case, phoenix and kristoph use formal pronouns when addressing each other in court, and informal pronouns outside of court, which is fun. by the final case they’re exclusively using formal pronouns since their friendship has pretty much ended. (it’s a similar case with klavier and daryan, who switch to formal pronouns when they’re trying to be serious/professional and when their friendship starts to splinter.) (apollo and trucy use informal pronouns on each other pretty much the whole way through.)

trucy says “Mééééééé !” a lot

she also calls apollo “Pollo”

wocky kitaki (”Willy” in french) is my fricking favourite oh my god. he speaks in such verlan-ified slang i had to painstakingly decipher every single thing he said. i love him. when he said “sakom” i felt that 😔✊ he’s nigh-incomprehensible just like he was in the english version. absolute king.

in order to make wocky so iconic they apparently had to sacrifice klavier though, because in this version he is english. ENGLISH. AS IN, FROM ENGLAND. usually the french localisation takes its cues from the english version so i thought they’d keep him german, and then when he started calling people “miss” instead of “Fräulein” i thought maybe they’d made him american, like he was in the original japanese version, but NO IT TURNS OUT HE’S JUST ENGLISH??? LIKE FROM ENGLAND????? U WOT M8 JOLLY GOOD OLD CHAP CHEWSDAY INNIT????? I’M FROM ENGLAND, THIS IS THROWING ME OFF TOO MUCH

and they didn’t even commit to the englishification!! he barely says any english stuff at all! he sometimes says “miss” or “mister” and that’s... about it? he doesn’t even have any “Achtung, baby!” equivalent!! he calls apollo “M. Grand Front” which yeah means basically the same thing as herr forehead but it’s entirely in french so what’s the point?? god if you were gonna curse him by making him from freaking england then at least go all the way?? at least his “Objection !” sounds cool i guess...

and his name is “Konrad” in this version. that’s fine because “clavier” means “keyboard” in french (like the thing you type on) so i get that it would have sounded silly. but imo they should have gone in the opposite direction and picked a random english word to name him then. they should have named him Stapler or something. why’d they give him a normal name. he is Stapler Gavin in my heart

ema calls him “minet pailleté” btw which yeah pretty much just means glimmerous fop. (she studied in england too in this version WHY THE FRICK IS EVERYONE ENGLISH)

there were some fun french puns, such as calling phoenix apollo’s “mentor” (french for “mentor”, if you couldn’t guess) and then calling him “menteur” which means liar and sounds very similar

“I killed a man named “Smith” with a bottle because I am an evil human being.”

[whoreseason]

RANDOM JAMES MARCH HEADCANONS

CW for murder, drug use mentions, and discussions of trauma/implied child abuse

I think he excels at doing cocaine. I don’t know how to explain what I mean though

He's done quite a lot of it in his life but no longer does, not only because his ass is dead and he can't get high but because such crass indulgences remind him of his younger days

He’d wear women’s perfume if it were more socially acceptable but his ideas around masculinity refuse to let him do this

His hair is naturally a bit curly and he has spent years gelling it into submission

Is 5'8 and rather small build-wise

Despite his size, he can really, really hold his own in a fight, though he fights very dirty. Hand to hand fighting triggers something in him and he does it with pure rage. His opponent will be on the ground before they know it and he'll probably have killed them before he realizes what he's doing

Is a bit resentful of his babyface, as well as his height, and wishes he were both taller and more mature looking

Growing out a mustache was influenced by this

Also deeply resentful of the phrase “prettyboy”, which he’s heard a fair amount

Either puts lifts in his shoes or wears slightly heeled ones. Do NOT bring this up

Has been smoking since he was 12 or so

His eye twitches just slightly when he’s annoyed. It’s often his only outward tell

His only two modes of expressing irritation/anger are “irritated but not showing it” or “literally screaming”

I feel like we as a fandom don’t talk about his canonical temper enough. This individual has probably thrown a fork into a maid’s eye because she got the placement of a napkin wrong

His original accent is lower class Boston, and while this may not be a headcanon, I feel the need to bring this up. His actual voice may sound more like Kit's than anything

Speaks a bit of French and Latin, largely in an attempt to fit in with the old money upper class

Started drinking pretty hard very young, maybe when he was around 12 or 13? And was basically an alcoholic throughout his teenage years

Barely went to school growing up and was more or less able to charm his way into university

Is embarrassed of his Irish heritage. He's a product of his time

Killed his first victim in a rage episode in an alley behind a bar somewhere when he was 16

His first victims were impulsive kills along these lines, but his motives switched from triggered anger to relying on it as he went on, and by the time he was in university he'd get tightly wound and restless if he'd gone a week without it

Took various traits from his first victims-- ways of lighting a cigarette, vocal quirks, body language tics, that sort of thing. As the number racked up and his designed personality become more fleshed out he stopped doing this, but he carries his first kills with him through certain mannerisms, though it's now subconscious

Also took various traits from movie stars and book characters. Spent a lot of time at the cinema as a young man finding things on screen to make a part of himself

Is so very, very fake. Has constructed basically every aspect of his presentation and outward personality

He hates being reminded of who he was before, who he truly was-- he’ll reference parts of his childhood in the context of who he is now and what he's had to overcome, but it’s more like he’s using pieces of his past to construct a story about himself. Anything vulnerable or authentic to that part of his life he won’t bring up, he doesn’t even let it cross his mind

Has worked very, very carefully to suppress his flinching instinct at sudden noise or movement, but sometimes it still comes out when he’s snuck up on

Used to wake up screaming sometimes when he was alive

Would just as often wake up crying, which he quite hated. He never remembered what those dreams were about

He’s glad that he doesn’t sleep anymore and can thus avoid all that. Which is what he loves to do with his memories or any sign of emotional vulnerability, avoid it. Good luck trying to get him to open up about anything

Love you grandpa

[karvroom]

10 Things I Hate About Katsuki Bakugo

◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

⇦ 003. French is the Language of Love

004. An Idiot with Money

"Did I or did I not tell you it was pointless?" Sero sassed as he moved the scalpel down the frog's stomach, careful to not slice any deeper than the skin. "No one will go out with her."

During lunch, Kirishima recruited Sero to help him find someone to go out with you for the better chance of him and Mina going on a date. Sero managed to snag some guys, setting them up for the question they never thought they would hear: "Will you go out with (Y/N) Ashido?"

"You're joking, right?"

"Maybe if we were the last people on Earth."

"How much you gonna pay me?"

The range of responses were pretty harsh to say the least. It was hopeless trying to find someone willing to take you on a date. If only no one at the school was intimidated by your wicked attitude and vulgar vocabulary.

Why did the girl Kirishima like have to have the most difficult sister of the century? In addition, a strict father. He was devastated by the results of his scouting, starting to feel a headache from the amount of stress he endured. Kirishima knew giving up wasn't ideal but they had tried just about every possible candidate.

A lump formed in his throat, watching Sero poke and prod at the insides of the dead frog on the tray. They were in anatomy, which wasn't Kirishima's first choice for a science class. He felt queasy just looking at roadkill. His eyes averted from the sight, finding it impossible how Sero could play with the insides of a deceased creature so senselessly.

The red-head squinted his eyes, seeing a blonde boy whip out a pocket knife from his own pocket. He was pretty sure that was illegal but gawked at the stranger, intrigued by the sight. The blonde flicked his wrist, the blade flying out of its protective frame. With a BANG the boy drove the blade down the frog's body, revealing its intestines. Kirishima quirked a brow, coming up with a brilliant idea.

"Hey, hey, what about him?" Kirishima tapped Sero's arm, snapping the ravenette out of his own world. He pointed at the intimidating blonde behind Sero.

Sero curiously turned around, only to swing his body back to face Kirishima. Sero looked almost offended by his friend's suggestion. When he pictured you and Bakugo in the same room, all he could see was the walls painted red. "Him? No, don't—don't look at him, okay? He's a criminal. I heard he lit a state trooper on fire. He just did a year in Shimane Asahi."

"Well, at least he's horny." Kirishima joked, eyes lingering on the mysterious male behind Sero.

"I'm serious, man. He's whacked." Sero whispered, careful not to alert any one of who he was talking about. "He sold his own liver on the black market for a new set of speakers."

Bakugo flipped the gas switch on in the lab. A large flame shot out from the pipe, causing his science partner to jump back in fear. The blonde placed a Marlboro red in his mouth, leaning just enough over the counter for the cigarette to light. Sero was repulsed by the sight.

Meanwhile, Kirishima was intrigued by the specimen; observing as Bakugo's partner took the cancer stick out of his mouth, pushing the tip against a trey to burn out the tobacco. "He's our guy."

Later in mechanics class, Bakugo had been creating a masterpiece from his hard work.

"Hi, how you doin'." Kirishima confidently spoke to the brute through the steam produced by Bakugo's project. "Listen, I—"

A drill interrupted the boy's sentence, he looked down at the French book he carried in his two hands. A hole was being drilled by Bakugo, right in the center of the Eiffel Tower.

Kirishima couldn't lie, he was somewhat intimidated by the guy, afraid how much Bakugo would sell his liver for. "Okay. Later, then."

"How do we get him to date (Y/N)?"

"I don't know." Kirishima sighed, shaking his head side to side as his friend observed the giant hole in the book. "I mean, uh, we could pay him, but we don't have any money."

"Yeah, well, what we need is a backer." Sero spoke, slamming the book on the table while turning to Kirishima, who looked utterly confused by his words. The raven haired boy sighed, "Someone with money who's stupid."

────୨ৎ────

Sero had the bright idea of roping in Denki Kaminari somehow. Kirishima patted Sero on the back for luck, staying back to allow a better chance of Kaminari coming in clutch.

Sero inhaled deeply before marching over to Kaminari's lunch table in the cafeteria. Confidently, he took a seat right next to the blonde boy, who was drawing a rack of boobs on a yellow lunch tray. The table went silent as Sero settled into his spot.

"Is that a peach Fruit Roll-Up?" Sero asked, staring at the homemade lunch Ojito brought to school. The nervous boy reached his hand out for the sweet treat. "Because you don't see many—"

Sero was abruptly cut short by Ojiro grabbing his wrist. His heart stopped, he felt his head was about to explode with anxious thoughts swirling in his mind. The sweet boy pulled his hand away, rubbing at the skin that would later be bruised.

"Are you lost?" Kaminari asked in a "concerning" tone. The blonde's face twisted into one of a sour grimace, surprised by the boldness this kid had to sit at his table, to talk to his friends, but most of all, talk to him.

"No. Actually, I just came by to chat."

"We don't chat."

"Well, actually, I thought that I'd run an idea by you, just to see if you're interested." Sero proposed, using his hands as he talked. Before Kaminari could speak, Sero cut him off, trying to at least pitch his thoughts. "Well, hear me out. Now, you want Mina, right?"

Kaminari grabbed Sero's face, but Sero didn't stop talking, he continued the conversation as casual as one could. He held the heat emitting from Kaminari's hands as they wrapped under his chin. He twisted the ravenette's head to the side. Using the same marker as he did on the tray, Kaminari started drawing on Sero's cheek.

"But she can't go out with you because her sister is this insane head case, and no one will go out with her, right?"

"Does this conversation have a purpose?" Kaminari asked in a bored tone, touching up the penis he drew on Sero's face. He added hair and veins, even debated on adding more detail to the balls.

"What I think you need to do is you need to hire a guy who'll go out with her. Someone who doesn't scare so easily." Sero pointed at a table in the distance where Bakugo and another guy sat. Kaminari's hands released from Sero's chin. He leaned back to admire his beautiful artwork.

"That guy?" Kaminari asked, brows furrowed. He observed as Bakugo ate his food, hungrily munching on the chicken served by the cafeteria. "I heard he ate a live squirrel once."

"Everything but the tail and the head. Clearly, he's a solid investment." Sero nodded his head, adding a smile to really add to the charming charisma.

"What's in it for you?"

"Hey, I'm walking down the hall and I say hello to you, you say hello to me." Sero chirped.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're cool by association." Kaminari cleared his throat, nodding his head in clear understanding. "I'll think about it."

"Alright, cool." Sero said, he stood up from his spot, attempting to shake hands with Kaminari as a close out. When the blonde refused to touch his hand, Sero backed away, scurrying back to Kirishima.

"What are you doing getting him involved?" Kirishima stressed, walking with Sero towards the cafeteria exit.

"Relax, now. Relax. We let him pretend he's calling the shots. While he's busy setting things up, you have time with Mina." Sero calmly explained, over exaggerating his hand movements.

"That is a good idea." Kirishima admitted, a sly smile spreading across his face.

◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

⇨ 005. The Beginning of the End

taglist🫐 @katsukota @wheezdostuff @honeydwitch @chuugarettes

[zombyjuice]

NOBODY BETTER THAN YOU! - eunseok.🍨🦷🐆🍦 t(>.<t)

In which your boyfriend you recently just got back together with is coming over for the first time since.

bf!eunseok x fem loser!reader

toxic relationship, fluff, angst, smut! suggestions to the reader having depression (NOT ROMANIZING.) suggested cheating. etc..

so many things inspired/helped me make this so I’m just gonna . @melobin and @anquelic on insta and my playlist below took inspo from there too <33 lol!

“Eunseoks here…” one of your roommates sneered from the other side of the door you could almost feel the face they gave eachother. You hop up and rush to open your door with a wide smile on your face “Hey baby” your boyfriend, walking towards you, a hand in one pocket and a bag of Burger King in the other an extremely attractive smile on his face “hii” you practically melted pulling him into your room and hugging him tight.

“Please don’t fuck yet! Give it a week!”

“shut the fuck up!”

He chuckled kissing your forehead and pinching your sides, you loved it when he did that, made you feel so safe you could practically feel your heart melt watching his movements as he placed the bag on your table.

That feeling goes away in an instant as you watch him sigh as he moves some of your clutter to the side. This made your heart flutter with sadness and your brain go a bit fuzzy.

He understands you more than anybody really, he’s patient and he does seem to care for you, he understood all those months before you guys were ever official you’d disappear trying to decide if he’s the one and if you should give him the chance.

He understood the nights where you’d just sit in silence not wanting to be touched or talked to, and he understood the nights you guys would be talking like normal only for you to start crying out of nowhere, or the nights you’d scream and push him losing your temper only to end up in his arms letting him watch you crumble under him. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay I've got you, doing so well for daddy” “‘m not mad at you, okay pretty, it's okay”. He understood the nights when you were finally your silly self after spending a weekend alone.

He understood all your quirks and interests. Once he dragged you to one of his sets because he remembered someone working on it had a dog who understood multiple languages, remembering your rather odd fascination with it how. can they do that? And watching as you said sit to the dog in Spanish, French, and Japanese, complete shock and happiness painted on your face as you laughed and laughed, adoration painted on his.

So how is it that you caught him multiple times all over the girl, the same girl he had a pass with, rumor has it they were “casually” sleeping together before you ever entered the picture you know it was deeper than that. To him “it wasn’t that big of a deal and he was just being nice.” You had to constantly shift your morals just so you could be happy with him, he knew you hated it, he knew the disgust you felt with yourself every time you’d go back with him. But you loved him so it's alright.

You knew the irritation and anger that bubbled up inside of him when you'd ask “Are you unhappy in our relationship?” or “Am I annoying you? I'm sorry” but he loves you so he's got to deal with it, right?

And no matter how many times you believed he cheated he was stable, nothing in your life is stable but him. So maybe that’s why you feel you always go back to him. And only him. Because, to you, there's nobody better than him.

He turned to you already able to read your face “It's alright, today's our lazy Sunday isn't it? We'll clean a bit tomorrow but for now, cmere let's lie down”

The smile that was once on your face came back and you gladly took his hand as he led you to your bed and cozy. Watching some of your favorite horror movies and munching on Burger King you between his legs a hands squishing your thighs and head dropping down to your neck every now and then to suck a hickey at your favorite spots your hands would grab at his knees as you whimper and giggle. “quit it, they’re finally escaping”. He'd quietly pout and slightly rut his hips up against you visibly hard.

{2:49 am}

Your eyes meet your boyfriends and grab at his hand that's hitching up your inner thigh, yours visibly smaller “Should we play some-” he smashed his lips against yours, your first actual kiss of the night “fuck I know we said we wouldn't do anything, but shit you look so good, sound so good, need to fuck my babies in you, make you mine forever” he grabbed at your neck and slid it down to your arm, manhandling you under him.

You could only submit to him, knowing this would have happened by the end of the “night”.

“Can’t believe I spent so many Sundays without you, felt so wrong, I’ve missed you so much” he'd moan against your lips grabbing at your thighs and aggressively pushing them up as he grinds against you, whimpers slipping out of you “missed you so much more” you’d whisper mind going elsewhere remembering exactly why you spent so many night away from each other’s grasp.

“Let me fuck away all that nonsense,only have you think about this cock” as if he could read your mind “please”.

And just like that he’d do exactly what he said.

[hughiecampbelle]

hello hello!! hope you're doing well <3 so i saw ships were open again... and i did get one as an anon a while ago, but the format has changed for the 10k so back i am for your amazing writing <3

i'd love to be shipped with someone from the boys!! (i do feel bad requesting for specific characters even though it's incredibly easy to see who i want to smooch in this show. i love them all though and above all love to see authors get creative. go crazy go bonkers. ok with any character but the deep, homelander, stormfront, and firecracker.)

i'm a bi & ace jewish brazilian girl, 1.72m tall, with long, straight, brown hair (that i've always thought about dying but always chickened out of). no tattoos, even though i have a list of which ones i'd get and what do they mean. i'm from brazil but currently go to college in new york, majoring in theatre and minoring in translation. i'm fluent in portuguese and english, learning french, and have the life objective of becoming a polyglot.

i'm in love with theatre, literary analysis, linguistics, music, writing, and art in general — will absolutely ramble about anything i am interested in, and also might have strong opinions on stuff that maybe i didn't need to have a strong opinion on 💀 i can get a bit combative about that at times... i definitely take as my biggest skill, besides singing and acting which are quite literally my intended job (i want to be a musical theatre actress), eloquence and just my way with words (toxic trait is believing i'd talk my way out of a murder fr fr). friends that know me more recently would even say i'm an extrovert because of that, but honestly i am a pile of nerves of an introvert with social anxiety that simply loves yapping and putting on a show. most notable quirk/habit might be how precise i always am with finding the right words because i simply cannot leave an opening for misinterpretation (and that's on anxiety and a suspicion of undiagnosed adhd oops); that might lead me to be a bit picky (for the lack of a better word), specific, and/or literal with the words other people use as well.

other tidbits: i can't cook for shit, i love cats (i have a rescue named lily) but also like dogs a lot, i love kids and have been told i'm good with them. i'm crazy lucky for some reason and i love crime comedy movies. i'm almost always writing or thinking about writing but i can't ever finish a project (and you may have realized by now i write too much). i love arts & crafts & other manual activities, i do knot friendship bracelets to de-stress. my default hangout with anyone ever is grabbing coffee. i'm also pretty proud of my music taste — from alt rock to 40s-50s music, love curating the vibes and i'm a bit of a playlist freak. also i would 100% show brazilian music (mostly rock and mpb, brazilian popular music) to whoever i'm paired with 💥🇧🇷

when it comes to love life oh boy i am a disaster — the two situations i have ever gotten myself into were the objective hottest girl i know and the weirdest guy i've ever come across (and both are my good friends atm). for me doing something creative, like a project together, is the quickest way to bond; and being in cahoots with someone is the deepest form of connection. let's ramble about our interests, be weird together, cause a diplomatic crisis, watch a movie, write something, idk.

this was LOOONG but i hope it's not too much and it gives you plenty of material to write with!! thank you so much for carrying the the boys fandom on your back enna <3

Annie is actually blown away by both your love of and intelligence with languages. She's always trying to learn both Portuguese and French sayings (mostly nicknames/"I love you") to surprise you. She loves the look of joy on your face when you realize what she's trying to say. Her pronunciation could use some work, but it's still very adorable

It melts Annie's heart when she sees you around children. She knows it can be a lot, with kids and their parents running up to her, asking her for pictures, showing off their Starlight costumes. She would understand it got a little exhausting. But you have never minded, instead you ask them questions and make them laugh, telling them they're little superheroes, too

Annie feels like she can truly be herself around you. After all those years with the religious conventions and the time she spent with Vought, she was never allowed to be herself. She couldn't show off her real laugh that's squeaky and high-pitched. She couldn't swear as a teenager or say all the crude jokes she thought of. With you, though, she can let loose. She doesn't have to uphold this image like she's had to her whole life

You and Annie are as equally terrible at cooking. You make a plan to cook together, learning recipes and measurements. Sometimes the food gets burned, or worse, under cooked, and a few times you've had to split it out, wondering where you went wrong? But, overall, it builds your skills together and it makes you feel better about your lack of skills

Annie comes to every show you're in at least three times. She'll bring Hughie and Kimiko first, then M.M. and Frenchie, and the third time she goes along, wanting to see you in your glory, feeling like this moment belongs to her. She shows up with flowers every time and tells you parts and songs she's loved as if you hadn't spent weeks practicing lines and songs with her. She's so proud of you, she can't contain herself. She definitely happy cries at the end when you take your bows!

Want to request a ship?

My love!!!! I hope you like it!!!! :D Xoxoxo💜💜💜💜

[smythedotcom]

WELCOME TO THE BLOG OF SEBASTIAN A. SMYTHE.

LIMA LOSER? OR IS THAT SEBASTIAN SMYTHE? THEY MIGHT EVEN PASS FOR HERMAN TOMMERAAS IN THE RIGHT LIGHT. THEY'RE 22, BUT STILL STUCK IN WESTERVILLE AT DALTON. THEY'VE BEEN CALLED THE TEMPEST, BUT PREFER TO BE THE NATURAL BORN LEADER. MAYBE IF THEY FIX THEIR AESTHETIC AKA DRIVING HOURS FOR YOUR PERFECT COFFEE ORDER, FLICKING CIGARETTE BUDS OUT ON THE ASTRO-TURF AT THE COUNTRY CLUB, DANCING AND DRINKING YOUR FEARS AWAY & USING THE PERFUME SAMPLES IN MAGAZINES TO WIPE YOUR TEARS THEY'LL GET THEIR WAY. WORD ON THE SHOW CHOIR BLOGS ARE THEY'RE IN THE WARBLERS. SO GOOD LUCK TO THEM!

want to know more? well, ur in the right place ↓ 

THE BASICS:

name: sebastian anton smythe

nicknames: seb, bash, cunt (both affectionate & derogatory)

pronouns: he/him

gender: cis male

birthday/zodiac: twenty two, july 25th - making me a gemini making me a leo.

birthplace: westerville, oh

relationship status: single

sexuality: gay aromantic

occupation: i don't do that <3

sports/clubs: warbler and co-captain of the dalton lacrosse team

major/minor: a junior majoring in arts management

languages: english, french, a little japanese.

social media handles: @smythedotcom on everything

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

height: 5'10

build: slim athletic

eye color: hazel

hair color: light brown

piercings: ear lobes

tattoos: the words 'tell me i'm your national anthem' from lana del rey's national anthem on my lower back. my favorite song,

other distinguishing features: a shit-eating smirk and oodles of charisma!

style: i'm always giving preppy, y2k-inspired, abercrombie & fitch.

PERSONALITY/INTERESTS:

traits: confident,  persuasive, determined, egotistical, closed-off, opportunistic.

likes: trashy early 2000’s clothes & music, starting twitter drama, reading people their horoscopes from teen magazines, iced oat lattes, one-upping people, explaining the lore of degrassi; the next generation (i was diagnosed with ADHD, and my insane degrassi knowledge is the lingering remains of a six year long hyperfixation. i've now put all of his pent-up energy into glee), showing off my backflip to people.

dislikes: fake-deep music and poetry, desaturated colors, snitches, boring romantic period pieces (where's the sex????), people who underestimate me, the texture of velvet, being told that i'm 'too much', staying in on a friday night.

fears: elevators & loneliness

skills: piano, music, the remains of the gymnastics classes i took in middle school, drinking everyone under the table.

quirks: i'm a self-confessed cheek biter. the amount of times i've nearly taken a chunk out of the inside of my own face, just call me hannibal lecter.

hobbies: rewatching degrassi, taking online 'which ___ are you' buzzfeed quizzes, taking gym selfies while not doing a whole lot at the gym beyond a treadmill strut, scheming & deviously planning

music tastes: just listen to it yourself here

myers-briggs: entp

kinsey scale: 6. gay as you like.

strengths: my leadership, my extremely attractive body and face - great for seduction, and also that backflip i mentioned before.

weaknesses: not so good at person-to-person communication.

do you know me? let's connect.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 02/03/2024 (SZA, Central Cee, Pozer)

Beyoncé may have the #1 for a second week with “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” but the real winners on this UK Singles Chart are songs benefiting from songs above them plundering, partly thanks to everyone’s favourite arbitrary rule, Accelerated Chart Ratio (ACR). I am never explaining that rule, look it up, but you’d think maybe we’d get a surge of new songs, right? No, it’s a pretty minimal week, and I’m not complaining. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

As always, we start with our notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75 - which is what I cover - after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40, and we have… unless I’m missing something, surprisingly little of note here? We bid farewell to “BACK TO ME” by Hitler, Goebbels and an uncredited Freddie Gibbs, “Ophelia” by The Lumineers, “Toxic” by Songer (thank God), “Sprinter” by Dave and Central Cee and of course, Lewis Capaldi’s “Someone You Loved” but that’ll be back soon enough.

Okay, so as for returns, we just get Ye’s “Runaway” featuring Pusha T back at #48, but our notable gains are where this week gets actually interesting, because we actually have quite a few, particularly in the top 40, thanks to ACR as mentioned but also potentially some TikTok-related industry politics that probably act in parallel with each other, but we start with “Thank You (Not So Bad)” by way too many brain cells at #68, “Soaked” by Shy Smith at #51, “vampire” by Olivia Rodrigo at #44 and “Evergreen” by Richy Mitch & the Coal Miners at #41. Then the top 40, where all Hell breaks loose, though most of these songs are actually pretty good: “Birds in the Sky” by NewEra at #40, “Made for Me” by Muni Long at #37, “Never be Alone” by Becky Hill and Sonny Fodera at #35, “Whatever She Wants” by Bryson Tiller of all people at #31 (and yes, I think I get it now), “On My Love” by Zara Larsson and David Guetta at #28, “Scared to Start” by Michael Marcagi at #22, “Nothing Matters” by The Last Dinner Party at #16, “Lovers in a Past Life” by Calvin Harris and Rag’n’Bone Man at #13, and finally - unfortunately - we have “CARNIVAL” by Adolf Hitler and Ty Dolla $ign featuring Playboi Carti at #9. Yes, it’s Rich the Kid’s first top 10 hit and no, you should not care.

Our top five should sound pretty normal, apart from a new entry into the top 10 at #5 as Djo gets his first with “End of Beginning”. I guess Steve Lacy can be a one-hit wonder twice. Aside from that, well, it’s all pretty expected: “Stick Season” by Noah Kahan at #4, “Beautiful Things” by Benson Boone at #3, “Lose Control” by Teddy Swims at #2 and Bey at #1. I like how this top five is a herd of angsty indie rock-adjacent white dudes led by the queen of the hive.

NEW ARRIVALS

#61 - “Love On” - Selena Gomez

Produced by The Monsters & Strangerz and Isaiah Tejada

Man, one of the few times that a mainstream artist releases a well-received and popular album that I think is absolutely brilliant, if not perfect, and none of it charts in the top 75. I’m not revealing who that is, if you know, you know. No worries, guys, we have Selena Gomez instead! God… to be honest, I like to give Selena the benefit of the doubt more than often, and I actually really like this song for its quirks as I’ll discuss later, but it’s pretty funny that this song starts with the French language only for all of that effortlessly seductive aura to be replaced with “Wait ‘til I get my love on”. What? In fact, this song is incredibly clunky in its sexiness or lack thereof, and if you think it’s to fit an already constructed rhyme or construction… why does it sound this awkward and almost improvised? “Screaming yes in quotations”, “night shift but with all the perks” (or Percs?), “why are we conversating over this steak tartare”? Yes, Julia Michaels, I knew you wrote this song before I checked the credits, you didn’t need to make it too obvious. Now I actually love this song, it’s so artfully stupid in execution: Selena sounds Auto-Tuned to Hell as always but it doesn’t grant her any rhythm with that robotic hook slipping over itself, as if the verses don’t embarrass her enough: Isaiah, listen, why leave her only with the clipping bassline and add all those accentuative vocal effects? It’s almost cruelty. She doesn’t even sound like herself on the strained falsetto pre-chorus, especially not those backing vocals which you could easily convince me are Toro y Moi of all people, and the chorus promising that you should just wait until she has her love on before she loves on you, which is… what? Asexuals could write better songs about intimacy, but in all its goofiness, the song ends up winning me over on pure silliness. The production has a straightforward groove but a lovely disco swell to the strings, detailed vocal layering and those phased synths acting as stabs that make Selena’s rhythmic bruising in the chorus sound almost normal are the icing on top. This is an adorable little failure of a song, I kind of admire it. Push it in the same category as “Feather” by Sabrina Carpenter in being loveable nu-disco messes.

#49 - “Showtime” - Catfish and the Bottlemen

Produced by Dave Sardy and Ryan McCann

It’s been a five-year hiatus, but indie rock band Catfish and the Bottlemen are back to music, though with some departures and line-up changes, and oddly enough, all of that ties into the fittingly titled comeback single, “Showtime”. Yes, this song is about the strains of touring and life on the road as part of a band, but how that’s all ultimately worth it for how gratifying it is to make an impact on listeners and be performing to audiences, as well as being with the band members he loves to record and perform with. I love the breakneck pace of the bass and post-punk rhythm of the verses and pre-choruses with that soaring guitar lick, and I think that the lead singer Mr. McCann (of no relation to that one) has a solid control of his distorted nasal tone until that disappointing chorus comes in which doesn’t feel nearly as ambitious or arena-ready as it wants to be, mostly because McCann is mumbling and it halts the momentum of the entire song. Also, it starts really shoddy lyrically, it’s hard to sound profound when half of your chorus is moaning “fuck that shit, get on this”. It does end up contextualising itself better on repetitions, mostly because of the warm finger-snaps in the bridge that eventually evolve into a heartland rolick that gives the final chorus space to breathe in a muddy mix… then seems to never fully get its power back, replacing it with a gross basic synth that parades around a befuddled Bottlemen, until eventually the song is just a lo-fi piano recording that doesn’t feel like it’s entirely warranted its inclusion, though it wraps up the narrative nicely as he comes back home after touring. I really like the sentiment of this song and parts of what it’s going for but the chorus, which really makes or break an anthemic song like this, just loses me, which is really disappointing as the rest of the song focuses entirely on building up to it. I’m sure it’ll be a killer live, but that’s also with the caveat that when performing live, they can mess with the structure, the lyrics and the performance, as well as most importantly for this one, the mix… so I don’t think this song will ever sound as good on record as it could do at a festival, which considering the song’s content, is kind of beautiful.

#29 - “Kitchen Stove” - Pozer

Produced by Young Madz

It’s pretty weird that this is not the first time in recent memory that I’ve never heard of the lead rapper on a track but have seen a dozen or so credits for his producer. Unlike Rich Amiri, this is far from rage however, it’s a drill track, of course, with Young Madz being a New York producer who’s worked with Fivio Foreign, the 41 collective and sadly, Lil Mabu, as well as having produced a previously charting track from Russ Millions. Pozer, on the other hand, has no other songs, with this being a breakout track on TikTok as well as his debut single… that’s being distributed by Sony. Yeah, slick one there. To fully understand this, we need to look back two years for another fluke viral hit, “snowfall” by Øneheart and reidenshi, a Russian space ambient track with over 500 million streams on Spotify - yes, really. It debuted nearly exactly a year after release and eventually peaked at #57 in 2023 whilst Miley Cyrus’ “Flowers” was #1. Øneheart’s follow-up was another ambient track, “this feeling”, which is not nearly as successful and also not as good, mostly because it lacks as sticky of a lead as “snowfall” and falls more into a vaporwave-esque filter of hopelessness which resonates a bit less. It does sound ripe for sampling though, especially that tiny vocal lead at the tail-end, so I guess it makes sense that for a manufactured viral hit, Madz took a sped-up version of the Russian ambient song and put it over some of the most rote, typical Jersey drill percussion possible. He doesn’t do much chopping, mostly because you don’t need to - like I said, that vocal sample would be perfect under Jersey drill, and Madz had the exact same idea, I suppose. Pozer, despite the name, isn’t exactly a bad rapper, his flow is pretty typical but solid and his second verse goes into more introspective and paranoid territory, pretty befitting of the haunting production… my problem is his delivery and the way he’s mixed: he just sounds too obvious. For production as potentially eerie as this, the production needs to be way more textured and dynamic, and Pozer himself needs to be quieter in the mix - as do the bed squeaks. This feels like a perfect lay-up of an idea that would make both a great song and an easy hit just fumbled in execution. It’s still a functional song for sure, but it doesn’t hit the way it absolutely could have.

#18 - “I Will” - Central Cee

Produced by John Alexis and LIOHN

Cench has another single out as he seems to drip-feed these - if he keeps them all on the record, that debut studio album will be more like a greatest hits compilation. As for this new one… first of all, I need this guy to step away from women: he’s awkward, condescending, and has strange fixations on this girl’s mother, how “young” she makes her feel, as well as just the extents of the capabilities of his penis… as well as a song-long hyperfixation on her shaving her privates. Over an Ed Sheeran-sounding beat? The acoustic guitars don’t mesh with the distant vocal loops, his vocal mix sounds horrifically unprofessional as does his complete lack of melodic understanding or personality when trying to sing on the chorus. You’d think he’d try and pick up the rapping to make up for it but he sounds half-dead. Speaking of Ed Sheeran, even he raps better than this - and yes, that includes about sex and relationships. There’s so little in the beat to distract from Cench’s terrible performance and content, so this is just an embarrassing display of everything that he cannot do properly. The second top comment on Genius, so you know, the fans, is asking what the Hell this is, and I can’t say I disagree with the fans in this case. I know you love Drake, it doesn’t mean you have to be him.

#15 - “Saturn” - SZA

Produced by Carter Lang, Rob Bisel, Solomonophonic and Monsune

SZA’s finally released a highly-anticipated song she performed at the GRAMMYs that may be connected to some form of SOS reissue and… oh, this interpolates one of my absolute favourite albums of all time. The opening track to Canadian composer Mort Garson’s peaceful, dynamic and forward-thinking 1976 electronic album Mother Earth’s Plantasia may not be iconic to everyone, but I still get goosebumps listening to it and that’s even outside of its greater context where this is the opening suite to a themed, arguably conceptual record acting as a love letter to two different pets of the musician: the myriad of plants his wife grew in the home, and his admired Moog synthesizer that he composed the entire album on. Sadly, Garson passed in 2008, before the record could gain its underground cult following amongst music fans, and before its official reissue in 2019 which particularly benefits the opening track, which has since been used in advertisements and now ends up interpolated on SZA’s new single, which released as a surprise to her fans and feels like a pretty spiritual return to some of the sounds explored on CTRL, using the sprinkling nostalgic synths of “Plantasia” as a backing for her lamenting of how dull and monotonous life on Earth can be. It’s actually fascinating to use that sample considering how celebratory I’ve always seen Garson’s album of both the natural world and human  influence or appreciation of it, but definitely not a bad one as Lang, Bisel and co. add their own cascading synths to the dejected drum mix and warm guitars that flow this song swiftly into psychedelic territory, especially on the gorgeously harmonic chorus. My favourite moment may be the pre-chorus though, where SZA’s vocal layering filters into the static of both itself and the incessant hi-hat wearing itself out over time. It’s pure escapism for sure, much like a lot of this week, really, but it’s damn effective escapism, pulling you into this forest that, despite my general issue with fade-outs, makes sense to drift out of existence. The song’s about wanting to live on Saturn, I can just imagine that as the song fades out, we pan away from SZA and the camera focuses on the scarce night sky peppered with stars. If a song ever justifies its cop-out ending, then it’s doing something really right.

Conclusion

Yeah, the girlies really won this episode, didn’t they? SZA takes Best of the Week away easily with “Saturn” but “Love On” by Selena Gomez does take the Honourable Mention. As for the Dishonourable Mention, I think Pozer just frustrates me with “Kitchen Stove” whilst Central Cee handedly has the Worst of the Week because Jesus Christ, “I Will” is almost irredeemable on pretty much all fronts. As for what’s new on the horizon in the coming weeks, I’m unsure, but it will be interesting what new stuff arises as a result of the ACR clearout this week. For now, thank you for reading, and I’ll see you next week!

[moonstone-vibe]

Fic writer (of doom) interview :))

Thank you @melodious-tear for tagging me! 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

How many works do you have on AO3? - 83 (whaaaat? :)) okay, but I started writing some 15 years ago)

What’s your total AO3 word count? - 1,462,003. Like I said. And to quote that meme, 'some may be good, some may be shit'

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? - 1. Age of Astaroth (Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist), 2. You don't need a (fucking) quirk (僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia), 3. Are we still playing (Haikyuu!!) , 4. Compensation (Haikyuu!!), 5. Reactive (Hetalia: Axis Powers)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? - ALWAYS!!! And I also put lots of hearts and bunnies and whatnot, for mysterious reasons. But seriously, I love comments, and not just positive feedback. It means my work has caused a reaction with the reader, stirred some emotion. I'm always grateful.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? - hmm, I guess the angstiest would be Resentful (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù) , but Bai Lin's lament (琉璃 | Love and Redemption (TV)) is quite sad too. But usually I avoid angsty/sad/unhappy endings and strive to give my characters at least some silver lining if not a fully happy ending. I'm a sucker for happy endings, me.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? - The Embrace of Death and the Kiss of Life (Soul Eater). This immediately comes to mind

Do you write crossovers? - I was about to say never, but in fact I recently wrote one. For smut purposes only :)))

Have you ever received hate on a fic? - I have received the abundant pleasantries of the infamous Guest reviewers back when I was active on fanfiction.net, but those people either had a problem with the sacred guidelines or were just there to troll but never related to a fic itself. On AO3 there was the very dedicated XiYao troll, but again, they had a problem with the pairing in general rather than with my fics.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? - I wrote both het and BL, but only BL was ever fully explicit (influenced by my absolute shifu sectionladvivi/Daniel May. I'm hardly on his level though). I never wrote yuri and I wouldn't either.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? - I don't think so.

Have you ever had a fic translated? - Yeah, Rise of the Emerald Princess (Soul Eater) was translated and that person also asked me if they could write a prequel one-shot/spin off. I was beyond flattered, you guys!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? - I have, but just once. I'd like to give it a try sometime, but it's a commitment. Maybe a one-shot.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? - When it comes to ships, my muse is as faithful as an incubus, I have no control over this thing, you get the picture. So, no. Why settle on a fave anyway? :))

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? - I will strive to finish all my WIPs (I have like 2 :))) Normally when a fic is hopeless, I just delete it.

What are your writing strengths? - that sometimes I can write :)))))

What are your writing weaknesses? - that I have no control over my muse whatsoever and that includes long periods 'on the dry'

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? - it's cool as long as it's a language I have at least some vague knowledge of. Walter Essner speaking French is everything :)))

What was the first fandom you wrote for? - Inglorious Basterds

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? - nothing comes to mind right now...

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? - hmmm, can't decide between Boy in gold silk (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)) and White man's coffin (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)) 

tagging @estbela @starsmadeinheaven @doodlin-moons , @someone-you-do-not-know , @coffeewithcutcaffeine, @roseszirnheld and anyone else who might want to give it a try ;)

[rcsplendent]

❝ TRUE that love in WITHDRAWAL was the weeping of ME . ❞

☼☾  (  saoirse  ronan  ,  30  ,  they/she  ,  non-binary  femme  ,  stuart  4  )  -  have  you  seen  ROWENA  STUART?    we’ve  heard  through  the  grapevine  that  they’re  DRUIDIC  but  also  NAIVE. when  you  think  of  them  ,  you  think  of  runes  etched  into  leather  and  stone,  dandelion  and  nettle  tea,  a  candlelit  shrine  to  the  gods.

parallels  :  jo march  (  little women  )  ;  misty day  ( american  horror  story: coven )  ;  nell crain  (  the  haunting  of  hill  house  )  ; luna lovegood ( harry potter )

BASIC  INFO

FULL  NAME:  rowena niamh stuart

AGE:  thirty

GENDER:  nonbinary woman

PRONOUNS:  they/she

ORIENTATION:  pansexual panromantic

LANGUAGE(S)  SPOKEN:  primary  —  english, scots, gaelic;  conversational  —  french

ACCENT:  scottish

LABEL:  the  druid;  a prophetic soothsayer; someone who seems to have a spiritual connection with the gods.

APPEARANCE  &  PERSONALITY

FACE  CLAIM:  saoirse ronan

HEIGHT:  five feet, six inches

HAIR  COLOUR:  dark blonde, curly & thick, down to her waist

EYE  COLOUR:  pale blue, but somehow warm & inviting

USUAL  EXPRESSION:   pleasant and friendly, but lost in thought; looking off into nothingness as if daydreaming.

POSITIVE  TRAITS:  gentle-hearted,  selfless,  kind,  friendly,  exuberant,  protective,  observant,  playful, spiritual, romantic

NEGATIVE  TRAITS:  naive,  anxious,  fearful,  scatterbrained,  capricious,  skittish, ditzy, ecclesiastic

FAMILY

MOTHER:  unnamed queen of scotland

FATHER:  graeme stuart, king of scotland

SIBLINGS:  violet stuart, princess of scotland; gwendolyn stuart, princess of scotland

THINGS  TO  KNOW

you  were  born  on  the  first  day  of  spring,  silent  as  you  arrived,  your  eyes  opening  to  reveal  a  look  of  wonder. the  midwives  said  you  looked  as  if  you  had  seen  it  all  before;  like  your  soul  had  already  been  reborn  a  thousand  times  over. 

it  started  when  you  were  a  baby,  really;  the  nonsensical  wailing,  the  inconsolable  fits. your  parents  thought  you  might  have  colic,  and  then  maybe  that  you  might  not  be  developing  quite  right,  but  you  grew  just  fine,  learned  to  walk  and  talk  at  the  same  age  as  everyone  else. but  the  fits  remained. sometimes,  you'd  suddenly  stop  what  you  were  doing,  take  one,  two,  three  heaving  breaths  and  then  BURST  into  tears  like  something  terrible  had  just  happened  to  you.

but,  see,  that's  the  thing  —  that's  what  it  felt  like. randomly,  in  the  middle  of  a  meal  with  your  family  all  around  you,  or  while  you  were  out  in  the  fields  chaining  daisies  together  to  make  a  crown  with  your  sisters,  safe  as  can  be,  you  would  suddenly  feel  like  the  world  was  ending,  or  like  someone  very  close  to  you  had  died. it  was  uncontrollable  and  all-encompassing  —  the  worst  sadness  and  fear  you'd  ever  felt,  hitting  like  a  tidal  wave  for  no  apparent  reason.

at  first,  your  family  believed  it  was  just  a  quirk,  something  you  might  grow  out  of. but  then  things  started  to  line  up  in  ways  that  felt  too  convenient  to  be  a  coincidence. when  you  were  five,  you  threw  a  fit,  screaming  about  how  "something  terrible  was  going  to  happen,"  and  the  next  day,  a  sentry  would  come  running  to  alert  the  royal  family  that  a  terrible  storm  was  coming  and  would  hit  in  less  than  an  hour. the  flash  floods  that  ensued  wiped  out  entire  groves  of  centuries-old  trees. when  you  were  seven,  you  halted  a  make-believe  session  with  your  sisters  and  bursted  into  tears,  wailing  the  words,  "they're  all  going  to  die."  that  evening,  a  soldier  reported  that  entire  herds  of  cows  in  the  upper  highland  ranches  were  dropping  dead  from  an  unknown  illness.

you  became  something  of  a  beacon. it  wasn't  always  true  —  sometimes  you'd  have  one  of  your  episodes  and  nothing  would  come  of  it. but  your  family  never  faltered  in  their  precautions,  because  more  often  than  pure  chance,  you  were  right. eventually,  your  family's  spiritual  advisors  heralded  you  as  a  DRUID  —  a  blessed  individual,  somebody  who  has  a  special  connection  to  the  gods.

people  from  other  cultures  insist  that  it's  not  real,  that  there's  no  way  you're  clairvoyant,  that  you  can  see  the  future. and  honestly,  you're  not  so  sure  of  it  yourself. but  you  can't  deny  what  happens  when  an  episode  strikes  —  that  feeling  of  being  overcome  with  doom,  the  all-encompassing  tidal  wave  of  dread. you  became  convinced  from  a  young  age  that  the  gods  had  given  you  this  ability  as  a  way  to  help  people.

so,  you  spend  your  adolescence  and  young  adulthood  becoming  more  and  more  devout  to  the  gods  who  had  given  you  this  gift. you  pray  to  them  every  dawn  and  dusk. you  have  a  shrine  to  dagda  in  your  chambers,  where  you  always  keep  a  candle  lit  —  you've  never  let  it  go  out,  not  in  the  twenty  years  since  you  built  it. you  have  countless  books  filled  with  runes  and  rituals,  and  you  know  recipes  for  healing  elixirs  like  the  back  of  your  hand.

but  even  stronger  than  your  devotion  to  your  gods  is  your  loyalty  to  your  family. you  are  a  STUART,  and  you  know  deep  in  your  heart  that  it's  your  purpose  to  love  and  serve  your  family. your  sisters  are  your  best  friends  and  you  tell  them  anything  and  everything,  despite  how  they  might  think  your  ecclesiastic  tangents  to  be  a  bit  boring. there's  no  one  else  you'd  rather  spend  your  days  with.

HEADCANONS

obviously,  rowena  is  not  actually  clairvoyant  !  she  is  mostly  just  a  very  anxious  and  deeply  intuitive  person  and  sometimes,  an  unexplainable  terrible  feeling  just  washes  over  her. sometimes it's nonsensical, but sometimes it's because she's observed signs of disaster that other people haven't, and sometimes without even realizing she's noticed them herself. in  scot/gaelic  culture  &  mythology,  there  are  individuals  called  druids  who  are  heralded  as  having  a  connection  to  the  gods,  and  are  believed  to  have  sensitivities  like  clairvoyance. so,  in  her  family's  culture,  it  makes  sense  that  she  would  be  treated  as  one.

she  is  a  deeply  romantic  person  and  is  always  finding  ways  to  notice  and  cultivate  love  in  her  life,  platonic  and  romantic. she  is  the  kind  of  friend  who  will  spend  hours  making  you  a  handmade  gift,  just  because  she  wants  to.

she  is  very  " religious "  in  the  sense  that  she  is  deeply  devoted  to  the  gaelic/celtic  gods. she  prays  every  dawn  and  dusk.

she  is  a  pacifist  by  nature,  but  has  a  fiery  heart  (  and  a  lot  of  fire  in  her  zodiac  chart,  although  she  would  have  no  idea  what  that  means!  ). she  is  fiercely  loyal  to  her  family  and  loved  ones  and  would  fight  anyone  who  tries  to  hurt  them.

she's  friendly  to  a  fault,  and  is  always  actively  seeking  out  the  good  in  people,  even  those  who  don't  see  it  in  themselves. she  wants  to  believe  that  everyone  is  a  good  person,  which  can  get  her  into  trouble  sometimes.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

friends:  she  definitely  has  lots  and  lots  of  friends!  anyone  who  is  kind  to  her  is  a  friend  in  her  book.

unlikely  friend:  she  is  desperate  to  see  the  good  in  people,  so  i  think  it  would  be  super  cute  if  there  was  someone  who  is  a  total  grump,  and  she's  managed  to  weasel  her  way  under  their  skin  !

a  fated  love:  listen ...... this  could  be  so  soft. someone  she  thinks  was  sent  by  the  gods. an  angel  in  human  skin. or  maybe  someone  who  makes  her  question  her  faith. LISTEN ....

[zepskies]

And So It Goes - Part 12

Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job — and more importantly her life — or helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca. 

Pairing: Butcher/OFC (Latina!OC)

ASIG Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: 18+ only. Smut (finally!), language, angst

12: Break It on Down

In the morning, Helena was shocked to find Butcher in her kitchen, making coffee in his pajamas.

And not just the cheap instant coffee she kept in the cupboard, but the expensive, European grounds she liked to brew in the French press. The smell was heavenly.

But him actually doing something for her was not as surprising as the fact that he was still here, in her home. After she broke down on him last night, she had expected him to be long gone by now. Allergic to emotions, as he was.

“You’re still here?” she said, unable to quell her incredulous tone. He looked up at her with a raised brow, then a smirk.

“What, am I trespassing?” he replied, with his usual snark.

“Do you even know what you’re doing there, Chef Ramsay?” She nodded at the French press. He was stirring newly poured hot water in with the grounds in the carafe. He seemed to be doing it correctly, which was yet another surprise.

“Ya know, I’m not some cave-dwelling creature,” he said defensively. “Just ‘cause I don’t buy into this fancy bullshit doesn’t mean I can’t work it out.”

He then put on the lid and left it to brew. “Instead of belittlin’ me, maybe you could get some eggs going.”

He then pulled out a package of bacon from the fridge, presumably to start frying up a few slices.

“And you might think about restocking sometime soon, before all you’ve got left are mustard packets and a two-year-old packet’a fish sticks,” he added. “How the hell did that survive the move?” 

A smile threatened to curve her lips. Helena closed her robe more securely, as she was still just wearing her nightgown underneath. He’d already seen it last night and hadn’t made any flirtatious overtures, despite some looks she’d caught him making when they were baking cookies. He was only a man, after all. But she didn’t think he truly saw her that way.

Not anymore, at least.

Sure, he made his sly remarks every now and then, but that was just Butcher’s default. Any chance they might’ve had of breaking that boundary died the moment they discovered Becca was alive. The fact that she was gone now didn’t change anything, in Helena’s mind.

Whatever was left of Butcher’s heart only had room for Becca. And out of respect for her, Helena wouldn’t cross that line. Not even for one night of easy, no-strings fucking.

Because even that, she knew, wouldn’t be just once. And it probably wouldn’t be easy—not in the long run. When she couldn’t trust her own heart to not get…attached.   

So, what are you doing exactly? she thought, as she moved around Butcher to grab the eggs from the fridge. Are you running a bed & breakfast for ex-cons, or are you just playing house with your best friend’s husband?

No, she reminded herself. It was for Becca that she was doing this. She wouldn’t have wanted Butcher to twist in the wind forever, with no safe place to come home to…but could Helena really be that for him? Could she handle it—and the many perils that came with a man like him?

She changed into a comfortable yellow sundress, and they eventually sat down to breakfast at her small dining table, fit for two. Even with this large house, she hadn’t seen the need for a bigger table. It wasn’t like she often had company out here in the sticks.

But first, Butcher poured her a cup of coffee. His long fingers brushed hers when he passed her the mug. Her eyes flicked up to his, and she murmured her thanks. His mouth quirked upwards, then he took the seat across from her. She found herself smiling before she realized it.

“So,” she began. She cleared her throat a little and took a sip of coffee. It was fucking perfection. “Are you finally going to tell me what you’ve been up to?”

He was already digging into his eggs and bacon like the carnivore he was. She followed suit at a more human pace.

“What?” he said, unfortunately with his mouth full. She inhaled, and chanced on touching something sensitive.

“Ryan, for example. Have you looked in on him at all?”

Since it happened, was implicit. Butcher’s gaze finally met hers. It took him a while to reply, but eventually, she sensed he gave the truth.

“Every now and again, for whatever it’s worth,” he replied.

“I’m sure it’s worth a lot to him,” she said. “Becca didn’t just want him to be safe. She wanted him to be taken care of.”

“Mallory’s got that worked out.”

“I’m sure she’s keeping an eye on him too. But who’s taking care of him?”   

“What’s it to you, anyway?” Butcher said. There was a bit more bite in his tone, and Helena could see him tensing up the further the conversation went. She wasn’t going to pretend she completely understood Butcher yet, but she was learning.

“I saw you with him, Billy. Much as you’re trying to deny it, you care,” she said. “Ryan may not be your son, but you’re all he has now.”

After a moment, Butcher gave a short, humorless chuckle before he brought his coffee mug to his lips. “Ain’t that a scary thought.”

Helena saw the self-deprecation in his eyes, and was sad. Billy Butcher was by no means a perfect man. Most times, he wasn’t even a good one. But he did have a heart, no matter how much he tried to bury it. Despite his calloused edges, there was a good man in him. She had seen it.

Maybe that was why, as hard as she tried, as much as M.M. and Mallory and Becca’s death warned her otherwise…she couldn’t say no to him.

Butcher was starting to feel that familiar itch: the reminder that he should be moving on. He had dropped in here more than too many times, because it was convenient. Because it was a safe place with free food and a comfortable bed. But clearly, if he could be roped into baking cookies at 2 a.m., it was too fucking comfortable.

Still, when Helena acknowledged that he was eating her out of house and home, and she needed to go out and replenish her kitchen, he found himself agreeing to go with her to the local grocery store.

“Really, you don’t need to take off anywhere?” she asked. She was trying not to show it, but she looked hopeful. He wasn’t expecting that, and wasn’t sure if he felt pleased, or just uncomfortable.

“Nah, I can stay…as long as you’re cooking,” he replied.

Helena rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse and keys from where she left them on the kitchen counter.

“Right. I have a feeling if it hadn’t been for M.M. or Frenchie in your little boy band, you’d have withered up and died of starvation before any supe managed to stomp you out,” she quipped.

“That’s what Shake Shack is for,” he countered. He then followed her out the front door, with his own wallet and keys in his pocket.

Really, he should be checking in on Ryan. She had unknowingly reminded him about it at breakfast. Mallory certainly had the night before, in a text designed to be equal parts guilt-tripping and blackmailing. Butcher should just ignore the old bat on principle.

But then again, he was 99% certain Mallory was the reason he’d been able to move off the radar for the past eight months. Homelander-free. So essentially, she was likely the reason Butcher was still breathing.

Tonight, he decided. He would set out tonight to go see Ryan, like he promised Becca he would. And then he wouldn’t come back to upstate New York for a good long time.

That decision solidified in his mind as he followed Helena around the grocery store. She seemed comfortable in her new house, and in this slow, small town, where she already knew her neighbors and almost every shopper in the store knew her. They greeted her with inane, civilized chitchat.

She didn’t seem to mind it, and had smiles and polite conversations with all of them. First there was a married pair and their two kids tearing around the display of canned corn and green beans. Then there was the old man and his emotional-support ferret (Butcher wasn’t one to judge, but as a New Yorker, he had a disdain for long rats).

Meanwhile, Butcher was the scruffy, somewhat dangerous-looking shadow behind her. And their surreptitious side-eying confirmed what he already knew: he was out of place here, and in her life, and it was time for him to go. Maybe for good this time.   

“I was thinking of making fajitas. What do you think?” she asked. He sensed her looking at him, and it shook him out of his thoughts.

“I’m not choosy,” he said. “Just don’t go overboard on the poblano peppers. Last time I couldn’t get off the shitter for six hours.”

Helena choked on a laugh, but shushed him with a reprimand in her eyes for speaking so loudly. She dragged him into the produce aisle to hide him from the now frowning couple and their giggling kids.

He graciously bent down to say, maybe a little too closely, “I’m serious about them fucking peppers.”

She narrowed her eyes at him over her shoulder and smirked.

“Lightweight,” she said, and pointedly nudged him in the arm. “Now behave.”

Helena then spent the next few minutes ignoring him. She inspected various fruit and veg with a scrutiny that reminded him of Mother’s Milk. While she was preoccupied with the merits of organic versus non-organic avocados (they looked exactly the same to him), he snuck over to the bakery.

Really, who decided to put the veg next to the cakes and cookies and shit?

“You know, avocados are technically a fat, but they’re really good for you,” Helena said. She tossed a few into one of those plastic, yet paper-thin, can’t-hold-more-than-a-Brussel-sprout produce bags.

“So I’ve heard,” Butcher said, only half-listening. When he first met up with Helena after all those years, she was a chili-cheeseburger eating, Chinese takeout-every-week kinda girl. Now she was apparently scouring health-nut blogs and doing yoga lessons off of YouTube.

Well, the yoga he didn’t mind. Her ass did look great in spandex.  

While she was still contemplating fruit, he came in behind her and dropped a strawberry cheesecake into the cart. He hid it under a broccoli stalk and a bunch of bananas.

“Yeah, they’re made of monosaturated fats, so it’s the good fat. Not me-in-middle-school-fat, before my mom made me join the swim team,” she said. “Like she wasn’t the one who raised me almost exclusively on Cuban pastries and fried chicken.”

“Parents,” Butcher scoffed in sympathy, even as he added a container of cherry Danishes to the cart. “The fucking nerve.”

“Right?” She finally decided on the normal avocados, crossing the item off her shopping list. She even starred it on the notepad, reminding herself that she was only buying three of them instead of four. Yet another thorough, bordering on anal trait he would typically associate with M.M.

But even that simple thing, Butcher was sure, was part of what made Helena successful at Vought. She was meticulous, catching details and patterns that others missed. And like Butcher, she could be relentless about it. Which might’ve been why she found out Becca was alive before he did.

And according to Mallory, she had given them a thorough intel report that they were still sorting through, eight months later. That included access codes and memos Helena recorded herself, from memory.

In Butcher’s experience, the CIA recruited on that kind of talent. He wondered, in fact, if Mallory had offered her the same “in” with Supe Affairs as she has offered him.

“Hey, you okay?” Helena asked. Butcher inwardly shook himself from his thoughts again and met her gaze.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You’ve been broody all day,” she said. Her brows crunched with concern, and maybe a little bit of suspicion.

“Do what you want with dinner,” he said. “Looks like I’m gonna have to take off when we get back to the house.”

Her suspicion grew with her crossed arms and pursed lips. “Why, what happened?”

“It’s better you don’t know,” he said…which wasn’t exactly a lie. But she clearly sensed it wasn’t the whole truth. Her expression dimmed, and she turned away from him to push the cart. It felt very much like a cold front was settling in.

Butcher almost sighed in annoyance. He followed her into the checkout line, where she started loading everything onto the conveyor belt.

He tried to hand her the eggs, but she only looked up briefly at him before she said, “I’ve got this. You can wait in the car if you want.”

Before he could answer that he wasn’t going to wait in the car like a little boy, the cashier brightened when he saw Helena.

“Welcome back,” he said with a friendly smile. Though he was too busy staring at her ass, bent over as she was to reach into the depths of the cart for the bananas. Her dress was just long enough to hint at said shapely ass and tanned thighs. But his gaze quickly moved back up to her face when she turned around.

Butcher’s lips thinned.

“Andy,” Helena said flatly. She finally found the cheesecake and Danishes under the bananas and sent Butcher a raised brow. He offered his most charming smirk. It earned him a roll of her eyes, but she still put it on the counter with the rest of the groceries.

“Hmm, I see you changed those nails for me,” Andy said. He raised flirtatious brows at her respectable French tips.

Helena couldn’t muster more than an irritated sigh as she waited for him to bag her groceries. Meanwhile, Butcher hung back to watch the little scene play out. Frankly, he was surprised she hadn’t verbally ripped the guy’s dick off like he knew she could. Like any true New Yorker would.

It was disappointing to know she was going soft out here in the suburbs.     

He gave Andy a short glance. It didn’t take much to get the seize of him. He was young, maybe late-twenties, fresh-faced, with blonde hair that screamed of early-2000s frosted tips.

Three strikes, Butcher thought with an inward smirk. He watched the cashier try to flirt with all the game of an ex-football player who peaked in high school. Helena was quickly losing patience, tapping her credit card on the counter and wearing a mix of boredom and irritation.    

“Look, much as I love this song and dance we do every time I come in here,” she said at last, “I’ve actually got other things on my to-do list today, so…”

“But you keep coming back here, to my register, so I just thought—”

“You’re the only register open,” Helena snapped. “And considering this is the closest grocery store to my house for another twenty minutes—”

“Ah, live nearby, huh?” he said, jumping on the line she unintentionally threw him. “What neighborhood? I’m over by Westchester.”

Butcher almost burst out laughing. The warning signs of the impending eruption of Mt. Helena couldn’t be more entertaining. But his patience was also wearing thin. He finally stepped in behind Helena and presented her with a container of peaches he grabbed from the closest display table.

“Ya wanna try these peaches, love? They’re on sale.” 

She glanced up at him, a little curious at his downright cheerful tone. But she shrugged. “That’s fine.”

Butcher gave Andy a cheeky wink.

“I love me a good peach, don’t you?” he said. His free hand slipped down to the small of Helena’s back. For her, it was barely a brush of his fingers. It still made her spine stiffen and a heated blush flood to her face. She gave him a suspicious look over her shoulder.

But to Andy, it looked like he’d literally made a claim on her ass.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Helena snapped, once they’d left the store with their groceries in tow. She was still blushing though.

Butcher smirked. “Shut him up, didn’t it?”

They loaded her groceries into the car while he watched her silently fume. Until she slammed the trunk shut and glared up at him.

“I don’t need you to save me,” she said. And a little more pointedly, “I don’t need anything from you.” 

Butcher’s smirk faded. She got into the car without waiting for him to snark back.

On the ride back to her house, he was pensive. He was usually too drunk or too in the mix of a mission to be pensive. But he’d quit drinking four months ago, so there was no other choice.

When Butcher made decisions, he was efficient. They were quick. They were final.

He’d decided this morning he was going to leave, and so he was going to. But first, he helped Helena get the groceries in the house. He helped put them away, as he now knew that the milk went on the fridge door but the vegetables went on the second shelf so she wouldn’t forget about them in the bottom drawer.

He knew that she now liked setting out honey rather than sugar for her coffee. She had a special jar for rice, like a “true Cuban” (her words, not his), and so never left it in the bag.

Somehow over the past few months of being in and out of this house, his subconscious had filed these things away and now he couldn’t forget them. Like the way he used to leave the tortilla chips on the middle pantry shelf so Becca could reach them. And how he used to put the Doritos on the top shelf because she couldn’t.

“I suppose I have time for a quick bite before I leave,” he said, breaking himself out of his thoughts.

Helena shrugged. It seemed she no longer cared what he did. She might well want to see the back of him…but he had a feeling he knew her better than that.

When he took a poblano pepper from her hand and broke out the chopping board from its cupboard, she stared at him with an annoyed frown.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What?” he mocked. “I could sit on my ass and catch up on The Voice if you prefer.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be a change of pace.”

But she allowed him to help. It strangely reminded her of the first and only time they had cooked together in her old apartment. They worked pretty much in silence, and it gave Helena time to think. Really to wonder, what the fuck is he doing?

She set a timer on the stovetop to let the fajita meat and veggies smoke in the cast iron pan for a while, then she set to making some rice. It was familiar. It was methodic. It let her brain go on autopilot while she measured and washed and drained and watered again. And she would have finally set the rice on the stove to cook.

She just didn’t expect Butcher to be right behind her when she turned around. It knocked the pot filled with rice and water a little and splashed some on the floor.

She uttered a small gasp and jumped, but Butcher’s hands on her hip and elbow stopped her from slipping on the wet floor.

“Sorry,” he said with a smirk. He reached around her to drop the used cutting board in the sink, but his other hand never left her hip. It slid up to her waist, subtly bringing her close enough for their bodies to align—the way they shouldn’t be, she reminded herself.

Or maybe…the way they were meant to. Maybe she wasn’t crazy to think there was still something here. Maybe he didn’t look at her like a sister after all. 

Helena couldn’t help the thought when her eyes met his, always so intense and focused wholly on her. She really couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

Her heart was beating fast. And faster still, when his gaze dropped to her lips after she nervously wet them, then tugged her lower lip into her mouth.

What—

The stovetop alarm beeped loudly.  

It startled both of them, but Helena used it to breathe and slip by Butcher. She stopped the alarm and set the rice on the stove, not knowing that he was standing there behind her back, frowning.

Disappointed, with a heavy dose of self-loathing. One moment he was determined to leave, the next he was contemplating fucking Helena in her own kitchen.

They ate in silence. There was a movie playing on the TV, but neither of them were really watching. It was some mind-numbing action movie blessedly free of supes, a rare find that was.

When it was finally over, she shut it off while he started taking dishes to the sink. He cut on the water, but a moment later, she turned it off.

“Stop,” she demanded. “Stop it right now.”

Butcher crossed his arms defensively. “What’s your fucking problem?”

“What are you doing, Billy?” she asked. “You say you’re going to leave, like you’re trying to run from me or something. The next you’re…pretending to be my boyfriend and acting like you’re going to devour me on the kitchen counter. What the fuck is this?”

She gestured wildly between the two of them. Butcher leaned in, until his face was inches away from hers. He similarly waved a finger between them.

“You put a stop to this a long time ago,” he said, with that deep, rough voice of his that made her absolutely insane. She expelled a sigh of frustration.

It would be so easy to fall into this, into him.

But M.M. was right. Butcher carried baggage he would never let go of, and ultimately, it would get him killed. It could get her killed.

As reckless as she had been by letting Butcher stay here, she didn’t want to die. Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could feel Homelander’s hands around her throat. She could hear his whispers from her nightmares. I know what you did for them. I know everything.

“I stopped this,” she said at last, “because I’m not Becca. I can’t be her replacement.”

As if I ever could be, she thought.

Butcher’s brows pinched with a glare. “I fuckin’ know you’re not.”

“Don’t lie to me!” she snapped.

“That’s fuckin’ rich, innit? When you’re the one who lied!”

She took a step back from him, incredulous. “When the hell did I lie?”

“The day Black Noir came for us at your apartment,” Butcher said. “You didn’t tell me you had a run in with that goddamn golden cunt.”

Her shock silenced them both, her heart falling into the pit of her stomach. She swallowed past the lump of anxiety in her throat.

“Who?” she asked. A feeble attempt to deflect.

Butcher’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re lying right now, to my face. You know who the fuck I’m talkin’ about,” he shouted. “Homelander choked the shit out of you. He nearly killed you in the middle of a fuckin’ hallway.”

Her gaze fell, and her hand raised unconsciously to her neck, where the bruises had long since faded. She sighed, more shakily this time.

“How do you know about that?”

“Mallory showed me the bloody footage,” he said. “I heard what he said, saw what he did. You could’ve quit your job, right then and there, and old Stan wouldn’t a’ been the wiser.” 

She didn’t have an answer for him. She tried turning away, maybe to hide in her room until he left her alone, but Butcher wasn’t having it. He held fast to her hand and prodded her to turn back around.

“It’s not like you owed me anything,” he said. “Why didn’t you skip town?”

 Interesting, she scoffed. That wasn’t what he said when he “recruited” her, all but blaming her for Becca’s disappearance.

“You know exactly why. It wasn’t about you, it was about me,” she said. “I wanted to find Becca. I can never…fix what I did. Or what I didn’t do, I don’t know…I needed to redeem myself.”

She was sure that was something he could understand. And he seemed to, if the fire quelling in his eyes was anything to go by.

“You know, I thought saying goodbye to you both that day was going to be it,” she said. “I never thought she would be gone while I’m still here.”

She leaned a hand against the kitchen counter, fighting for the things she wanted to say. Maybe Butcher sensed that, and was giving her a moment to figure it out.

Eventually, she grabbed onto his shirt, near his collar. As much as she wanted to fight the pull of him…it had been a losing battle from the start. His hands found her waist, her hips, molding to the curve and shape of her.

“It’s been eight months. Almost a year since then,” she said. “This thing…about you, for you. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

When he kissed her, it was a sweet relief. It was dominating heat and need. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders while his continued to burn her skin over her clothes, kneading her hips, her ass. He pressed her into the counter and she could already feel the length of him against her thigh. Meanwhile, his tongue found hers and she had no qualms with being devoured. Her entire body was on fire.

She wrapped her arm around his neck for better leverage, but he had his own ideas. His grip on her hips became firm enough to heft her up onto the kitchen counter. Maybe it was cliché, but it made perfect sense to Helena. She wrapped her legs around his hips, forcing him to rock into her clothed center. She shivered, and he smirked into her kiss. His hands slid up the soft skin of her thighs, bunching up the skirt of her pretty yellow sundress.

He briefly squeezed her thighs and let his thumbs draw between them, towards the heat pooling between her legs. He brushed against the dampness in her underwear.

“Don’t take much, huh?” he teased.

She reached down and felt his hard erection straining against her hand. He groaned in response to her touch.

“I could say the same,” she retorted with a cheeky smile.  

Butcher's lips quirked, then they met hers, tasting her long and slow. To her, he felt solid and confident, and she actually felt safe in his hands.

He began kissing his way down her neck. It just mildly distracted her from what he was doing further down, grabbing the delicate material of her underwear and ripping them down on one side, then the other. Her eyes widened in shock at feeling the lacy material slide out between her legs. She blushed the sensation making her skin tingle deliciously.

She should be mad that he’d just ruined a $30 pair of panties. But the strength she felt in his arms as he did it only quickened her heartbeat and enhanced the flood between her legs.

She sucked in a breath when he finally began teasing her slit with one finger, then sliding between her slippery folds. The muscles in her lower belly tightened in anticipation. They were really doing this.

“Yep,” he said.

Helena snapped her head up at his smirking face and realized she’d actually said that thought out loud.  

Butcher smirked, and then two of his fingers sunk into her wet heat. She uttered a short whimper of pleasure as he began to work her with an expert hand. Her breaths deepened in his ear and she all but grinded down rhythmically into his touch, especially when his thumb found the swollen bud of her clit. She carded her fingers through his black hair, and his name fell from her lips. Like a prayer.  

His fingers moved deeper within her, curling against that special spot inside. Finally, that dam of heat within her broke in waves as she shuddered against him. But his fingers didn’t stop their relentless onslaught, drawing out her orgasm and pulling a long moan and a couple of of Spanish expletives from her throat. Because fuck, had it been a long time since she’d felt this good.   

Helena clung to Butcher’s shoulders while he eventually stopped to let her catch her breath. Her head was resting in the crook of his neck, so she first pressed a kiss below his ear, then raised her head and he met her with a fierce kiss.

“You nearly cut the circulation in my fucking hand, love,” he said with an indecent smirk. “Thought I was gonna lose it in this sweet pussy.”

She was sure her face was red as a cherry by now. Still coming down from her unbelievable high, she had no words. She watched him withdraw his glistening hand and make a show of licking one of his fingers clean.

“Sweet indeed,” he added. “But we ain’t close to done.”

Her hands shook, but she pulled him close again by his belt and began to unbuckle it for him. “You’re goddamn right.”  

Then, it became a race for whoever could remove each other’s clothes first. Helena unzipped his pants while he helped wrench up her dress. Her hands glided up under his stupid fucking Hawaiian shirt and forced it over his head.

He all but tore the clasp of her bra and freed her breasts, which fit perfect and full in his hands. He kneaded and caressed and rolled his thumbs over the pert brown buds, and she panted and arched into him. She met him with a deep kiss, sucking his lower lip into her mouth and let her nails drag a little down his back. It earned her a throaty groan and a warm, rough hand between her thighs.

She could feel his wet tip positioning at her entrance—and it snapped her out of autopilot, back into her head where red alarm bells were flaring loud and insistent.

She grabbed one of his hands, stopping him.

“Wait. Billy, wait.”

He was panting and straining with need himself, but to his credit, he stopped. His eyes snapped down to hers, his brows crunching in mostly curiosity.

“I can’t do things halfway here,” she warned him. She’d been alone this long for a reason. “I can’t be what’s convenient for you.”

His eyes studied hers. For what, she couldn’t be sure.

“That ain’t what this is,” he said eventually.

She laid a hand on his chest, over his rapidly beating heart.

“Tell me the truth. Why did you look for me?” she asked.

His iron, demanding grip on her waist gentled. He sighed, and she felt his breath on her forehead.

“You know exactly why,” he said.

Hope and warmth bloomed in her chest, making her smile. She let go of his wrist and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her head tilted to the side as she considered him suspiciously.

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

Butcher’s eyes darkened. His brow rose suggestively. “I can be persuasive.”

He pressed a biting kiss just beneath her ear. Her hold on him tightened as she sucked in a breath. But then she offered him a claiming kiss of her own.

“Prove it then,” she said against his lips.

He took that challenge to heart, pulling her body right to the edge of the kitchen counter until he could align himself at the right angle. The moment his length slid deep into her core, she almost came apart right then and there. He stretched and filled her entirely to capacity—to the point where she worried he might be a little too big for her.

He grunted and pressed his forehead against her shoulder. She moved her hips a little to adjust to his size. He groaned.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he hissed. “Fuckin' hell.”

She gave a breathless laugh.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, her heels digging into his ass. He pulled out just enough to slam into her again, making them both shudder. He eased out again, and continued into a building rhythm that soon became frantic. Most of the time, she could only hold onto him for the ride.

But feeling his body tense up further, she knew he was close (along with the sounds he was making). She could see the road ahead and almost taste her release, but to help them both, she reached down between them and touched the nearly overstimulated bud over her entrance and whined into the crook of his neck.

“I gotcha, babe. Almost there,” Butcher muttered. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and feeling on the verge of his end, he bit down between her neck and her shoulder. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make her cry out at the peak of her own release. Her nails reflexively bit into his shoulders and he hissed with similar pleasure mixed with pain.

He soothed her afterwards with his hand cupping the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. His hand remained at the back of her neck when he leaned back and pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. Her legs detangled from around his hips. Then her hands drifted softly down his bare chest.   

“Well,” she said, “that happened.”

He nodded with a mellowed grin. “Still happening, actually.”

Butcher shifted his hips to remind her that he was, in fact, still inside her. He eased out and grabbed a clean hand towel from the counter to wipe up the slick between both of their legs. He was slower with her though, letting the cloth slide tantalizingly across her swollen lips.

He then smirked at her renewed blush. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of those honey brown eyes, red, thoroughly kissed lips, and flushed cheeks. It was about to get him going again.

“Join me in the shower?” she offered, despite her blush.

Butcher helped her down from the kitchen counter and held her naked body against his. He towered over her by quite a few inches, but her body was strong and her abundant curves gave perfectly in his hands.  

His voice was deep with suggestive grit.

“If we’re smart, we could christen just about every room, hidden nook, and otherwise flat surface in this great big house,” he said.

She laughed and framed his face with her hands. “Hmm. In that case, better take my vitamins.”

Then she covered up what would’ve been his smart-ass retort with a deep kiss.   

Keep Reading: PART 13

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

@lauraaan182, @homielander, @calizmor

[mirclealignr]

Regulus Black Fluff Alphabet

regulus x gn! reader

requested by anon

warnings; brief mentions of food and anxiety

from this alphabet

A - Affection; how they like to show their love.

Regulus does a lot through touch and reassuring looks/smiles. He finds it hard sometimes to express just how he feels about you, especially considering expressions of love were severely lacking in his life. But when he holds your hand or caresses your face, he feels as if he's spilling all his secrets, and hopes that you understand them.

B - Beauty; what do they especially admire about you?

Your warmth. At first it was practically disarming, but overtime he learned to embrace it and miss it when it was absent, when you were absent. It would be so different to what he was used to, especially with the people closest to him. But he would adore the change that was you.

C - Cuddles; how they like to cuddle you.

Most of the time he likes to have his arms around you, sitting up slightly while you lay against his chest. There's a sense of safety he finds in knowing that you can hear his heartbeat and that it doesn't scare you off. But sometimes, he likes it when you take him in your arms and he can nuzzle in the crook of your neck.

D - Dancing; their favourite place to dance with you.

He is simply a hopeless romantic, and loves to dance with you when it's dark and raining outside, when the two of you are almost completely alone. He loves watching you smile as the rain seeps into your clothes and dampens your hair, and when you rest your head on his chest for some shelter.

E - Excitement; do they get excited with you about things?

Regulus likes to understand things before he gets excited about them with you. If you come running to him with an elated expression and start rambling about whatever brought you this pleasure, he'd want to know why. He'd want to understand you and relate to you. Almost always, he'd become just as excited as you.

F - First Date; your first date together.

The Astronomy Tower. Regulus would want to be alone with you, without prying or judging eyes. It wouldn't be much, maybe some snacks and a drink he brought for you, but he would want to hear you talk and laugh and to see you smile. He'd want to know your likes and dislikes, the memories you cherished, and things you looked back on and laughed at.

G - Goals; do they have things they want to achieve? Do they include you in these things?

For Regulus, his future goals remain largely unclear. Before you, he thought it was simple, but afterwards it would become far more complicated. With the weight of his family, and Sirius' abandonment making it heavier, he would often try to avoid the thought. But if you ever brought it up, he'd tell you that wherever you were, he would be.

H - Honesty; how open are they with you?

Very. Trust is something extremely important to him. While he may not tell you everything the second it happens, he does have every intention of letting you see every side of him, even the parts he wished would vanish from existence. Upon getting to know you, the trials of his family would be revealed slowly, rather than all at once, so he didn't overwhelm you. Of course, he'd be terrified, but he knew it was better that way, and he knew that you would love him all the same.

I - I Love You; do they say it a lot? did they say it first?

Regulus does not say it first, though he'd be sure he felt it first. He confesses straight after you, though, and gradually says it more and more over time. Expressing his feelings would not come easy, and sometimes, rather than tell you how much he appreciated you for listening or how beautiful he thought you were, he simply said 'I love you' in replacement, hoping that it would be enough.

J - Jealousy; do they get jealous?

Not necessarily jealous, but rather insecure. When he sees you laughing with someone else, he'd wonder whether they were better suited to you--they were warmer, more free, happier. Perhaps he brought you down, perhaps he weighed you down, and though he didn't express these insecurities out loud, he'd always seem to be easily read by you. And you'd always be there to reassure him when you needed to.

K - Kiss; their favourite place to kiss you.

Your hands. For Regulus, hands mean so much, represent so much, and yours are his to kiss and hold as much as he pleases. To him it would feel incredibly intimate, despite the fact that your hands can touch others, but that they're only his to kiss and hold. People can always get close, but never as close as he can.

L - Little Spoon; who’s the little spoon?

The majority of the time, you are the little spoon. He likes the idea that he is able to protect you, actually make you feel safe and wanted; it's one of the things he prides himself on. But, there woulds be times when he needed to feel that, and revelled in the warmth of your embrace tightening around him, holding him close.

M - Melody; what’s your song together?

I think your song together would be 'I Want to Hold Your Hand' by The Beatles.

N - Nicknames; do they use nicknames for you?

Yes a few. Some of them would include 'treasure' and/or 'my treasure' because he adores you and could not think of anything better than you. For him, you are what people search for their whole lives, sometimes without ever finding it. And, because he speaks French, ‘mon chéri /ma chérie' for definite.

O - Open Book; how hard was it to get to know them?

It wasn't necessarily hard, just gradual. However, you would have always suspected that Regulus did not have it easy and were content with him going at his own pace, and appreciating that he was brave enough to reveal it all to you. It never seemed too slow, rushed, or overwhelming--he picked his timings well and never let things become too heavy. He'd also be very conscious that everyone had their own burdens, and would make sure he always left time and room for you to air anything you wanted or needed.

P - PDA; how affectionate they are in public.

Not very much at all. He prefers to show you his love when it's just the two of you. But he isn't afraid to let other people know that you're in a relationship, and will often intertwine his fingers with yours, whisper things in your ear, and kiss your temple.

Q - Quirk: a weird but loveable trait of theirs.

He never signs his name, he always signs R.A.B. Even when it's small notes to you, little love letters, or ordinary letters, he will never sign it as Regulus, but with his full initials.

R - Romance; how romantic are they?

So much. He loves leaving you love notes, writing love letters to you, slow dancing with you, playing music for you, watching the stars with you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, snuggling up in bed with you with a good book. He loves to do it all.

S - Secrets; do they keep secrets from you?

Not really. Perhaps only ones he thinks would unnecessarily hurt you, like what his family says about you. He doesn't tell you because he doesn't think it matters, they don't matter to him, only you do, and he wants their words to mean nothing.

T - Thrill; do they like to keep the relationship new and exciting?

He likes to, and he tries. He certainly likes surprising you, even if only to see that smile. He likes taking you places, learning your favourite songs on the piano simply because you like hearing them, taking you on spontaneous trips or dates. He's not on for grand, public gestures, but he still keeps excitement in the relationship his own way. But he also knows when things need to be slow and calm, and doesn't mind it either way.

U - Understanding; how they comfort/support when you’re upset or anxious.

He knows that most things said would be wrong, even if they were intended to be reassuring and understanding. Even when you talk about what's bothering you or don't, it can be hard to say the right thing. So instead, he takes you in his arms, rubs your back, kisses your cheek and gets you any comfort foods that you wish for. Sometimes, words speak far less than actions.

V - Vexed; how easily they lose their temper.

With his family, and even with Sirius, Regulus can lose his temper very quickly, but you understand that their relationship has not been easy, nor do you care for his family. With you, it's rare that he loses his temper or raises his voice at you. When he does, there are usually other factors that have contributed to his mood, and he is quick to apologise afterwards.

W - Weakness; what’s their weakness what it comes to you?

Your smile. So easily it can make him feel like he's falling from the stars, watching the constellations become smaller and smaller as he slips into the earth's atmosphere, burning and smiling and falling completely in love with you every time he sees it.

X - Xtra; random hc about them.

Regulus likes to speak in French to you when there are things he is too afraid to say or things he thinks sound more romantic when said in another language. Even if you can understand him, there's something less nerve-racking about saying it in French, it's almost like he's playing himself in another world, but still hopelessly in love with you.

Y - Years to Come; how they imagine your future together.

He doesn't like to think about the future often because he knows how easily it can change and fail to meet your expectations. He only hopes that he is with you, facing whatever is to come. He prefers to focus on the present, where he already is with you.

Z - Zzz; how they are when they sleep.

Incredibly still, almost scarily still. The only time he moves is to be closer to you, closer to your exuding warmth. It almost frightens you to move in case it wakes him or disturbs him, but if it does, he never lets on. - - - fill in this form or send an ask to be added to a tag list <3 forever friends; @myalupinblack / @selenes-sun / @vixxiann /@queen-asteria04 / @lillict / @savingpluto /@theincredibledeadlyviper / @pad-foots / @fizzleberries / @willowbleedsonpaper / @kinkyduuh harry potter; @fuckingbloodyhello / @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts / @scvrllet / @dreamerinthesun / @crazy-beautiful / @chaoticgirl04 /@cupids-crystals / @fandom-life-12 / @mypainistemporary-blog /@oliverwoodmarrymepls / @eunoniaa / @missryerye marauders era; @spxllcxstxr / @natashxromanovfreads / @ch /@sereinegemini / @helen-with-an-a / @sweeter-than-strawberries /@spxncervibes regulus black; @jackys-stuff-blog / @with-love-anu / @yinrose98 /@tarorootboba / @lyaseille / @bloodblossom73

[syyskirjat]

(Carmilla Weekly, Chapter 2, Sept. 11th)

I have to start again with an addition to last week, because I forgot to mention it: we never really did find out who Laura is writing to, do we? This account was discovered among Doctor Hesselius's papers, and the Doctor has apparently was in contact with Laura at some point, but Doctor Hesselius is supposed to be German, and Laura says "your English miles", which would imply that she's writing to an English recipient. I'll keep an eye on this, I don't remember if we ever get any more hints.

A small linguistic note: "Mademoiselle Rheinfeldt" with the French honorific is interesting. Are the Rheinfeldts a French-speaking family? Or is it just a random quirk of Laura's multilingual upbringing? Or another convention entirely? I do know that there was a point when many of the royal families in continental Europe spoke French, but would that apply to the nobility as well? And even as late as the 19th century? I have no clue. Maybe it’s just Laura’s habit. It does seem like French would most likely be the language most often spoken in their household since it’s the language they all probably share, unless her father doesn’t speak French.

Another small linguistic note but this time probably just for me: I was always confused by the "lime trees" but I've just discovered that it actually just means linden trees, which makes much more sense.

Anyway Fs in chat for poor Bertha. o7

"The fiend who betrayed our infatuated hospitality has done it all. I thought I was receiving into my house innocence, gaiety, a charming companion for my lost Bertha. Heavens! what a fool have I been!"

I'm sure this won't be plot relevant in anyway. Zero foreshadowing here. Don't worry about it.

It's worth noting though that Bertha's illness lasted at least six or seven weeks according to Laura, starting as something barely remarkable.

Poor Laura as well, she was so looking forward to a new friend. Wonder how her and Bertha would have been together if they had had the chance?

But of course the sorrowful mood is no reason not to describe the pretty view!

Mademoiselle De Lafontaine—in right of her father who was a German, assumed to be psychological, metaphysical, and something of a mystic—now declared that when the moon shone with a light so intense it was well known that it indicated a special spiritual activity. 

(...)

"when you look behind you at the front of the schloss how all its windows flash and twinkle with that silvery splendor, as if unseen hands had lighted up the rooms to receive fairy guests.”

I feel like old vampire stories are so much more mystical about them, they're more like some kind of fae folk than just, idk, intelligent zombies.

there stands by the roadside a magnificent lime tree, on the other stands an ancient stone cross, at sight of which the horses, now going at a pace that was perfectly frightful, swerved so as to bring the wheel over the projecting roots of the tree.

Swerved to avoid the cross, you say? Hmmm... (okay I mean that's definitely something that horses would probably do, but the symbolism is very on the nose.)

"It would, on the contrary, be to confer on us a very great kindness at the moment when we most need it. My daughter has just been disappointed by a cruel misfortune, in a visit from which she had long anticipated a great deal of happiness. If you confide this young lady to our care it will be her best consolation"

Ah, how convenient.

[canis-dies]

answering these here bc i have one (1) mutual online rn

🛰-Do you have a large headcount?

> maybe. probably (fragments), but im not sure. we dont count them. currently in the low 20s.

👾-Do any alters in your system have typing quirks?

> not that im aware of. we generally type differently but theyre not typing quirks.

🚀-Does your system have any Non-human alters?

> several. (direwolfguy, sea nymph, Doll x2, ambiguously human snake, mouse(?), and. the fennecdollcatdogboygirl. whatever he has going on. idk.)

☄️-Is your system neurodivergent?

> other than DID, yes.

🔭-Does your system use neo Pronouns?

> collectively, rarely. individually, about 1/3 of the sys uses neos.)

🌠-Do any of the alters in your system have dyed hair?

> me. everyone elses is just Like That.

🌙-Are there any nonverbal alters in your system?

> mute as a whole aside, yes. me and 3 others.

🪐-Does your system have Angry or "dangerous" persecutors?

> depends on your definition, i could still be considered one. other than that, yeah.

💫-Do your littles use 'little-speech?'

> not 100% what this means but age-accurately, yes.

🌌-Does your system have little to no amnesia between switches?

> depends on whos switching. rarely blackouts but greyouts are pretty frequent, save for the hosts.

🌟-Does your system have fairly clear communication?

> again, depends who. most of our communication is one way (from the front to the inner world, generally). its easier to contact people you speak to often (which changes from alter to alter)

🌘-Do you have a large or complex headspace?

> yes. boundaries are undefined.

🛸-Do any alters in your system have exo-memories?

> all but 3.5 (0.5 unsure but likely.)

👽Does your system have any tics?

> we have tourettes. it might be worst for us (the hosts) but we're fronting all the time, so i dont think theres that much alter-bias.

☀️-is your system bad at masking?

> terrible. our muteness is the only solid mask, since people pay attention to that and not to how im a completely fucking different person. lmao.

✨️-Do any alters in your system have an accent?

> at least a couple, yeah. some dont sound in english (e.g. Rio Ranger, who sounds like jrpg dialogue noises and a textbox.)

🌎-Do any alters in your system speak in a different language?

> we Know several languages but its more difficult for some of us to speak them than others. e.g. Gin is more fluent in ASL than I am. I dont know Russian. I'm better than him with Indonesian. Chuuya speaks french sometimes. 🕊️ only knows English because of the rest of us.

☁️-Does your system use things like pluralkit and simply plural?

> both, yes. the former because im not switching discord accounts just to type in vc-text. the latter because the insane amount of amnesia. i cant keep track of that shit.

⭐️-are you out about being a system?

> explicitly to one irl and a handful of friends. online yes. irl no.

Space themed System ask game based on common fakeclaim "criteria" because these things are valid and cool actually

🛰-Do you have a large headcount?

👾-Do any alters in your system have typing quirks?

🚀-Does your system have any Non-human alters?

☄️-Is your system neurodivergent?

🔭-Does your system use neo Pronouns?

🌠-Do any of the alters in your system have dyed hair?

🌙-Are there any nonverbal alters in your system?

🪐-Does your system have Angry or "dangerous" persecutors?

💫-Do your littles use 'little-speech?'

🌌-Does your system have little to no amnesia between switches?

🌟-Does your system have fairly clear communication?

🌘-Do you have a large or complex headspace?

🛸-Do any alters in your system have exo-memories?

👽Does your system have any tics?

☀️-is your system bad at masking?

✨️-Do any alters in your system have an accent?

🌎-Do any alters in your system speak in a different language?

☁️-Does your system use things like pluralkit and simply plural?

⭐️-are you out about being a system?

This will probably flop but!!! I had fun making it<3

Endos and their supporters dni :')

[plots-and-prompts]

Small Excerpt #30

Requested prompt, edited to remove triggering language: hi there !! can you write a prompt(s) idea where two characters meet at one’s low point along with some dialogue ? Both never met.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, that wasn’t meant to be a reflexive, customer service “hi, how are you?” I’m genuinely asking, ‘cause, for the record, people who are fine don’t usually sit up in a children’s playground set to cry alone.”

“Fine. I’m upset. But I don’t know you, so it’s really none of your business. I don’t want to talk about it”

“I get it, I get it,” they hold up their hands in mock surrender. “Do you mind if I join you, though? This is sort of my thinking spot.” 

“...Are you serious?”

“We don’t have to talk, at least not about what you’re dealing with. Promise. In fact, we can have a philosophical conversation about what it is about playgrounds at night that make them the best place to do some thinking.”

They couldn’t help but give a small quirk of the lip. “It’s probably the solitude,” they sniffed.

“Mm, maybe. Worth testing out though, wouldn’t you say? There’s a vending machine over there. How about some drinks and snacks on me?”

“Why are you doing all this? I told you, you don’t know me.”

“No, but I know where you’re coming from. You’re not alone. Consider me just a physical reminder of that”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　Word of The Day　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Legerdemain (n. French, 15th century): Sleight of hand, or the use of one’s hands when performing magic tricks

[gascon-en-exil]

I've not been able to post as much as I'd like lately for a number of reasons, but because someone asked about it a few days ago I think I can now put together a list of my five favorite Disco Elysium characters. There's still significant bits I haven't played, because it's been surprisingly hard to motivate myself to continue my second playthrough (maybe because all the major plot points and a lot of the dialogue will still be the same?), but I think I have enough of an impression between my first run and other stuff I've read to make this call. In no real order:

Klassje

As I said, she's up there, although not at the top. Her backstory is somewhat relatable, and I like how she initially looks to the femme fatale of this noir-like story before that starts to unravel. It can be (intentionally) hard to parse her through the detective's obvious attraction to her, and in a future run I'd like to see what happens if you go through with trying to arrest her. There's a lot of good moments in her dialogue about the complexities of sexual consent and what it is to care for all-around terrible men.

The Smoker on the Balcony

An obvious one - purely by being himself he awakens the detective's latent bisexuality. What's not to love? It's funny that his sugar daddy will disclose his name and profession even when he's caught at the site of their encounters, yet you'll never learn the Smoker's real name. I also find it interesting that (as far as I can remember) he's the only character to call the detective gendarme. There's an entire essay to be written - very likely not by me, though - on the many ways that DE uses the French language, and while with the Smoker it just seems like a random quirk it's still something that stands out.

Plaisance

Not at all one I expected to like, but there's a delightful absurdity to Plaisance that I can't help but find entertaining. Her fraught abuser-and-abused family situation, her silly attempts at getting the detective to buy from her, her dislike of most of her own products and even the bookshop concept, her casual racism insidious in how mundane it is, and her strange ideas about the Doomed Commercial Area (that may have turned out not to be so strange? Honestly the game starts to lose me when it gets into the stuff about the Pale.) all make quite an enjoyable merchant NPC.

Tiago

The "crabman" of the church only has one scene, and it's a strange one where he's judgmental of the detective's vices despite his clear obsession with losing himself in a nearly religious sense to the Pale, but he's such a distinctive and odd presence that he can't help but be memorable. I like that he never appears again after the club kids set up in the church, but everyone there knows he's still up in the rafters. Eerie - and oddly easier to understand than the dramatic scenes involving the hole in the world.

The Washerwoman/Isobel

Much more stern and knowledgeable than she initially lets on, and someone who provides both a place of refuge for the detective (and Ruby) and who acts more like a community leader than most of the authorities in Martinaise. She immediately sees through Evrart's scheme to force out the residents of the fishing village, but can be made to sign off on the plan anyway because she intends to stand her ground. Another unexpected choice, but she was the most grounding presence in the areas beyond the water lock which is something the detective sorely needs in a time when his home and most of his former life is literally unreachable.

I can't finish this post though without mentioning Kim, who's such a significant and dynamic figure in DE that it didn't feel right to lump him in with NPCs who spend almost all their time in static locations responding to a relatively small number of dialogue trees. Kim is so much more than that, and while that also somewhat curtails his ability to react negatively to what the detective does (from what I've read there's only one situation where he'll abandon you out of anger, and even then it's only temporary) that's more than made up for with the many ways in which he gets to interact with the story and help the detective pick up the pieces of his life. To place Kim in this top five would have seemed inadequate to everything he is, essentially.

[cigarettesandslushies]

destress // jd x stressed!reader

jd helps you destress from studying for midterms 

word count: 1,700 

tw: language, smut, ambiguous gender but was written for a female!reader in mind

requests & questions

Note: Hello! I’m a new writing blog! I am an aspiring writer and thought it would be fun to get in some practice by writing for some of my favorite fandoms. I’ve been wanting to write JD x Reader fics for a while so I’m happy to finally be doing that. Please feel free to send in requests! This is my first-time writing smut so be gentle with me (even if JD isn’t being gentle with you). -Ellie

“Shit, did a fucking tornado hit your room?”

You didn’t acknowledge the intruder that entered through your bedroom window. You didn’t have the time to. With multiple midterms coming up that you weren’t the least bit prepared for, every second from now until then was precious.

“Not even a hello, darling?”

You could tell that a brow of his was quirked, teasing. He very well knew that midterms were next week. Though, compared to you, he couldn’t give less of a shit. How you wish you could do the same.

“JD, not now.” You warned.

He stood, appraising your midterm wrecked room quietly. Notes, textbooks, and wrappers galore decorated various surfaces, from the floor to the bed to your vanity.

He walked, watching each step as he made his way towards you. You were hunched over your desk, nose deep in one of your textbooks. Your highlighter was tapping against the wood of your desk, keeping time with the anxious bounce of your leg.

He was behind you in the next moment, resting his head against yours. He placed his hands on your thighs firmly, slowing your movements. You took a deep breath, setting your book down. Your head titled up, moving his head from yours in order to meet his gaze.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of your lips upon seeing him. God, he was such a better sight than statistics.

“Hello.” You murmured.

He matched your smile, dropping his volume to yours. “See? Now was that so hard?” He pressed his lips against your forehead. “Hello, darling. How are you? Did you miss me?”

You rested your head back against him. Your eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the warmth of his body. “No. Not even a little bit. Statistics has been the best company.”

“Oh, really? I’m going to wager that stats is fucking you pretty hard.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Maybe even harder than you.”

“Are you challenging me? You know I always win.”

You took a deep breath. The slight smile gone from your face and replaced with a deep frown. Your eyebrows pulled together, your face scrunching to meet the stress headache growing.

“JD, you know on any other day I would want you to win. I can’t.”

“Come on, give me just an hour.”

“Bullshit.” You were quick to reply. Your eyes flew open to stare up at him. “Like we’ve ever gone just an hour. You keep me for multiple hours which I don’t have. I’m already losing sleep as it is. I promise you can keep me up some other night but tonight-“

He stepped back, grabbing the back of your chair, and spinning you to face him. “Darling,” he drawled slowly. “You’re losing it.”

You blinked once, your gaze falling into your lap as you processed his words. Your hands met your head, elbows resting on your knees as you curled up into yourself. “I know.” You spoke into your hands. “God, JD, I’m so fucking stressed. I have so many midterms to study for without enough hours in the day. I can’t fail these. They’re worth so much of my grade. It will ruin my GPA if I get anything less than-”

“Sh, sh…” he crouched, leveling himself with you. “How about we round up your teachers in an abandoned building and blow it up, hm? Would that make this all better?”

You would have laughed if you didn’t know that he was completely serious. This boy would do anything for you. He’s proved that time and time again. “Getting rid of the teachers wouldn’t get rid of the classes themselves. I’d still have to take the midterms eventually.”

“You’d at least get more time.”

“True.” You agreed. Another deep breath and you lifted your head from your hands. “I think it would just be easier for me to study. It would take time and planning to pull it off and anyway, do you want to go through a whole grieve fest at school?”

“It would make for an interesting week.”

“You aren’t funny.”

“No, I’m hilarious.” He took your hands in his, pulling you up from your seat. “Fine, no offing the teachers, but you know the more that you try to cram all that shit in your head, the more it will spill out. Breaks are healthy, recommended even.”

A finger under your chin, a thumb resting below your lip, he brought his face closer to yours. He was close, too close. You smelled his last cigarette and a cherry slushie lingering in his breath.

“Let me help you destress.” He ghosted the words over your lips. How could you ever think that you could deny him? How could you ever think that he wouldn’t get his way?

All it took was a quiet please and his hands were everywhere.

With one swift movement, JD knocked the contents of your desk onto the floor. With another, you were sitting on top of it, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He caught your lips with his, too slow, too gentle.

You didn’t have the patience for his teasing.

You intertwined your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. You pressed your lips harder against his, showing him your eagerness to have him, just as he wanted.

You could feel him smirk against your lips, his hands moving to undress you from the waist down.

“Well, would you look at that? For someone who didn’t want to even acknowledge me, you sure are eager to have me inside of you.”

You bit back a moan, his words touching you before he even laid a hand between your legs.

Fucking asshole and his way with dirty talk.

“Jason Dean, you’re a pain in my ass.” You replied breathlessly.

A low chuckle followed as you dragged your lips across his jawline in a sporadic series of kisses. You bucked your hips up towards him, a sign for him to hurry the hell up and take you already.

You would have been surprised if he actually took the sign instead of ignoring it and taking another direction.

“Nu uh, darling. I can’t shove my cock in you and fuck you into the desk until the wood chips just yet. With how stressed you are over midterms, I’m not sure if you can handle it. So let me loosen you up first, hm?”

He didn’t wait to slip a finger inside of you, then two, and then three. You leaned back along the desk, your elbows barely keeping you up and steady. He set a rhythm, relishing the sounds that you made for him and him alone. Whimpers, gasps, and moans alike were all tangled with his name.

He felt you were getting close. He could always tell, sometimes before you even knew. You never quite knew how close you were to falling off the edge until he was pulling away from you, leaving you empty and longing for him to fill you again.

Just like he liked it.

“JD,” you breathed shakily. You didn’t realize that your elbows had failed you early on and you were lying completely flat against the desk. You shifted your weight, lifting yourself back up and onto your elbows once more. Your eyes narrowed when you caught his gaze.

“What? Did you not want to cum on my cock after all?” He asked innocently, a contrast to the words that came from his mouth.

“God, I could kill you.”

“There can be only one killer in this relationship, darling.” He drawled, undoing his jeans. He was hard and so ready to fuck you until you couldn’t remember the population versus the sample. He hesitated, almost expecting another retort, another “you’re not funny”, but no. You weren’t going to drag this out any longer. You wanted him now.

You needed him now.

“JD, please. For the love of god, fuck me.”

He didn’t even have to ask for a please. He knew that meant there was nothing else in your head but wanting him to fuck you.

Would there ever come a time that he wouldn’t get exactly what he wanted?

“Only because you asked so nicely.” It only took a single beat, a single thrust before he was inside of you completely, barely giving you a chance to adjust to him. You let yourself fall back onto the desk, crying out his name.

The rhythm he set was faster, rougher. His fingers curled over your shoulders. His hands pushed you down as his hips pushed you up. Every thrust was met with force. He never let you move. He did the moving for you. He was in full control, using your body for his pleasure which just so happened to cause you pleasure.

A perfect match, that’s what he said, and you believed it. He knew exactly where to hit the tip of his cock to make you-

“JD, I’m getting-”

“Mmm, I can feel that. I didn’t think you could get any tighter.”

“JD-”

His lips caught the rest of your whine. His movements were sloppier now, his hands messily tangling themselves in your hair. He was close too.

As he pulled back ever so slightly, he uttered three words. “Cum for me.”

With that, you came undone and he followed closely behind. Screams and moans of ecstasy were muffled against one another’s lips. It took a few moments for the both of you to catch your breath. He waited until your breathing steadied to pull out.

He pressed his lips against your forehead. “There. That should get you through stats.”

You laughed. “It should, but is it going to get me through French?”

“Finish studying for stats and we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Let’s get you cleaned up and while you finish studying, I’ll go get you some real food. No more of this granola shit.”

He began walking towards the bathroom but stopped halfway across your room. He didn’t turn to look at you when he said:

“You’re one of the smartest people I know. I know it’s not much coming from a town full of slaves and blanks but if there’s anyone who can pass these midterms it’s you.”

He continued walking.