#i love this song i didn't realize that before

[incognit0slut]

omg neeeed a spencer fic based off of lunch by billie eilish, i feel like that song definitely suites him 😭

Being cornered in the filing room was the last thing you expected when Spencer asked you out for lunch.

Warnings: (18+) oral (f), semi-public (they’re at work) ~1.6k words

A/n: Ty anon I've been listening to this song nonstop and now I have a reason to use it for munch Spence, ily

“What do you want to eat for lunch?” you asked, striding through the bullpen with Spencer at your side. He had a hand on your lower back, and you couldn't help but wonder why he was being so touchy at work when he was usually the one insisting on professionalism. Not that you were complaining; you’d take any small gesture of his affection.

“How about that new sushi place around the corner?” you suggested, leaning into him slightly. “I could go for a salmon skin roll.”

He remained unusually silent, and as you exited through the glass doors, you frowned when he guided you away from the elevator. “What—” you began, looking up at him as he led you down the hallway. “Where are you taking me?”

His silence was starting to unnerve you. He glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before pulling you into the filing room and shutting the door behind you.

“Spencer,” you hissed, eyes darting around the room. “What are you—”

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours, pressing you against the door. His hands cupped your face, holding you in place as he kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless. You hadn’t realized just how much his kisses could affect you until you started dating him—each one was deep, passionate, and downright knee-weakening.

When he finally pulled away, you clung to his arms for balance, your mind reeling. “What was that for?”

He grinned mischievously. “I’m hungry.”

You blinked, confused. “So you decided to eat my face?”

He chuckled, leaning in to peck your lips again. "That was just the appetizer." His hands trailed down your body, and when you felt him run his palm down your legs, you knew you were doomed.

"Spence," you warned, trying to give him your best glare but already melting into him as his fingers slid under your skirt. "I thought you wanted to have lunch."

"I do," he agreed, slipping inside the waistband of your panties. "And I am. I want to eat you."

You really needed to talk to him about his oral fixation—not that you minded, because honestly, you loved it when he went down on you. The problem was, he didn't always pick the right time or place.

Like that one time on a date when he begged to taste you, leaving your food cold when you returned from the bathroom, with the waiter giving you the stink eye you could feel the judgment in their gaze. And now he wanted to do it at work, with your friends practically in the next room.

"We can't—" you tried to protest, but your voice faltered as he nibbled on your earlobe.

"Shh," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I’ll be quick."

Before you could respond, his hand slipped further down, and you let out a gasp, clutching at his shoulders. His touch was electrifying, and you found it increasingly difficult to remember why this was a bad idea.

"We're going to get caught," you managed to say, though it lacked conviction.

"We won't," he murmured, and when his fingers brushed your arousal, he laughed softly, spreading your slickness up and down your folds. "You’re already so wet."

He grinned when he felt your hips thrusting and bucking upwards. He knew you were inviting him to give you more. The flat tips of his fingers begin to dip in your entrance teasingly. You wanted him. You needed him. He knew he had you right where he wanted.

"Spencer, please," you whispered, half in protest, half in desperation.

"Please what?" he asked, his voice husky. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?"

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. "Please… just..."

He took that as encouragement, intensifying the pressure and speed of his movements. You clung to him, your knees weakening, your breath hitching in ragged gasps. Just when you felt you couldn't bear it any longer, he knelt before you, deftly sliding your panties down your legs. Any resistance dissolved as he gripped one of your legs, hoisting it up over his shoulder.

“Lift your skirt up.”

With trembling hands, you gathered the fabric and lifted it, exposing yourself fully to him. His eyes couldn’t help but rest on the sight, taking note of your swollen, aroused lips and how wet you already were. His fingers traced over your slick folds, teasingly brushing against your sensitive skin before lowering his head between your thighs.

The moment his tongue made contact, you were already lost in a haze of pleasure. Your head spun as nerves and excitement merged into a blissful frenzy in your mind. He teased up and down your slit, briefly dipping inside your dripping entrance before returning to focus on your swollen, aching clit.

"You taste amazing," he grunted, his voice thick with desire. His hands encircled your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as his tongue circled and flicked over your sensitive bud. He sucked lightly, causing you to hold your breath, before releasing it in a ragged gasp. Your hips bucked uncontrollably as you ran your hands through his hair, tugging on the strands, eliciting a deep, rough yet eager moan from him.

This was why he loved tasting you so much. He was addicted to your reactions, the way you whimpered and moaned, and the eager groans he made between your trembling thighs. He reveled in the sensation of your juices against his tongue, thrilled by the chance to please you and watch your legs quiver around him. He adored the way your voice strained when you called out his name, and how tightly you gripped the strand of his hair between your fingers.

He loved it all, making it clear as his tongue sped up, circling your clit even faster. Looking up at you, he saw you trembling, your gaze locking onto his wide, shining brown eyes as he continued to pleasure you. Each flick of his tongue, every gentle suck, drew you closer to the edge.

"Please," you cried out, fingers gripping his hair as you moved your hips against his mouth. "I'm so close," you gasped, your focus entirely on him, feeling the pressure of his tongue against your throbbing cunt.

He responded with a low, satisfied hum, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. The tension built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until you were teetering on the brink of release. Your breaths came in shallow pants, your entire body alight with anticipation.

He held onto your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he expertly licked your folds, skillfully massaging your clit with the flat of his tongue. The way he moved, the way he tasted you, it was driving you wild. You could feel yourself spiraling, the tension building inside you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

With one final, skillful flick of his tongue, he pushed you over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering, your breath catching in your throat. You cried out, a raw, uninhibited sound of pure ecstasy, as the pleasure washed over you in powerful, crashing waves.

Spencer held you through it, his tongue never slowing, drawing out every last bit of your release until you were spent and trembling in his arms. Only then did he finally pull back, looking up at you with a satisfied, almost smug expression.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his hands gently caressing your trembling thighs.

You nodded, your breath still coming in shallow gasps. He rose to his feet, his eyes still locked on yours as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, his expression one of satisfaction and tenderness. He pulled you into a warm embrace, his hands gently rubbing your back as you steadied yourself, your legs still trembling slightly from the intensity of your release.

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I can't believe we just did that," you said, your voice still shaky. "We could have gotten caught."

"The thrill of almost getting caught makes it even better, doesn't it?"

You groaned and swatted his chest. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. "Let's get you cleaned up before someone wonders where we are."

Nodding, you straightened your skirt and tried to compose yourself, though the lingering heat between your thighs was a constant reminder of what had just transpired. Spencer handed you your panties with a playful smirk, and you quickly slipped them back on, feeling a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration.

As you both stepped out of the room, the hallway was thankfully empty. He kept a protective arm around your waist as he guided you back towards the bullpen.

"Where did you two go?" JJ asked the moment she saw you. "We just ordered takeout."

Spencer stepped slightly aside from you, but his arm remained reassuringly around your waist. "It's fine, I already had my lunch, anyway," he replied smoothly.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure, and returned to your desk as you ignored JJ’s stare. The slight blush on your face threatened to give you away, and you shot him a discreet but pointed glare.

"Yeah? What did you eat?" JJ asked, her curiosity clearly piqued.

"Oh, just something... incredibly satisfying," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo. “Something I've been craving for a while."

You bit your lip, hoping the warmth in your cheeks wasn't too obvious as you met his eyes briefly, noting the smug look on his face.

You were going to kill him.

[hemmingsleclerc]

One last time┃charles leclerc

summary: What do singers usually do when they are in a complicated love situation? They write songs, but what happens when you write a love song for your best friend who turns out to be Charles?

ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧ ༘✰ ༘ ˚ ˚ ༘ ‧₊˚𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹

Y/N was backstage, her heart beating hard and irregularly. The crowd outside screamed with excitement, eager to see her. She looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting a strand of hair that had fallen out of her hair as she tried to calm down by taking deep breaths.

Y/N and Charles had been best friends since they were children. Growing up together in Monaco, they shared dreams, secrets and countless memories. While Y/N once dreamed of becoming a great singer, Charles dreamed of being a Formula 1 driver and they both achieved it, becoming successful people in their respective careers. Despite their busy lives, they always made time for each other no matter what.

Charles had been Y/N's rock during her great and fast rise to fame. He was the one who kept her feets on the ground, reminded her of who she was before the fame, the cameras, and the anxiety. Y/N, in turn, was his person, cheering for him in every victory and comforting him in difficult moments. Fans adored their friendship and often believed there was something more between them. But for Y/N it was a bittersweet reality. She loved Charles deeply, but he only saw her as her best friend or at least that's what she thought.

Recently, Charles was rumored to be dating a new girl, Alex. Y/N was happy for him, really, but every photo of them together felt like a dagger in her heart and a deep part of her was jealous of that girl, ¿What did Alex had that she didn't? Charles used to speak wonderfully about Alex in interviews when he was asked about her, but it was the way he talked about Y/N that made fans believe she was his true and only love. His words were filled with warmth and affection that left the fans wondering if Charles himself realized what he truly felt.

Y/N sighed, putting those thoughts aside. Tonight wasn't about her heartache. It was about her music and her fans. She took a deep breath and took the stage, being greeted with a sea of ​​applause and shouts. She smiled, waved and began her set. The night was intense but she enjoyed every second of it.

As the concert neared its end, Y/N took a moment to speak to the crowd. “The next song is very special to me and it's brand new,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. "It's called 'One Last Time.'" Fans screamed out of excitement, not knowing the meaning of the song and the inspiration behind it.

The music began to play and Y/N closed her eyes, gathering the courage to sing the song without her voice breaking.

''I was a liar, I gave into the fire, I know I shoulda fought it, At least I’m being honest''

The fans quickly took out their phones and turned on their flashlights, making the atmosphere more nostalgic.

''So one last time I need to be the one who takes you home, One more time I promise after that I’ll let you go, Baby I don’t care if you got her in your heart, All I really care is you wake up in my arms, One last time I need to be the one who takes you home''

That night she sang about unrequited love, about wanting one last moment with someone who didn't see her the way she saw him,no matter how much she longed for it.

''And I know, and I know, and I know she gives you everything but boy, I couldn’t give it to ya. And I know, and I know, and I know that you got everything but I got nothing here without you, baby''

When she reached the last verse, tears flowed from her eyes and her voice broke without being able to contain it.

When the song ended, Y/N stood there, tears streaming down her face trying to wipe them away. The silence was deafening and then erupted into a wave of applause mixed with screams from the crowd.

''Thank you LA, I love you, see you next time!'' and with that she left the stage

twitter

instagram

ynln

Liked by taylorswift,charles_leclerc and 3,583,852 others

ynln tonight in LA was 🤯💓✨🌙⚡!!!! I love you all in that crazy crowd tonight, got a little emotional over there but anyways 🤣🤣 -see you soon I love u

username IF U CRY I CRY GIRL

username my baby 😭😭😭

username I love u so much yn

Backstage, Y/N wiped away her tears completely, trying to compose herself. She knew the Internet would be full of speculation. While she was on Twitter that same night after making her Instagram post, she saw fans discussing her set. #OneLastTime and #Y/NCRIED trended, with thousands of tweets expressing concern and love for her. Many fans speculated about the meaning of the song and some even guessed the truth: that it was about Charles.

A tweet caught her attention. It was a video clip of her singing her last lines, with tears streaming down her face, with the caption: “Her heart is broken and we all know why. Charles, my boy, pls open your eyes.”

Y/N's breathing hitched as she read the answers. Fans overwhelmingly supported her and expressed their belief that Charles was the one for her. As she put her phone down, a message notification appeared. It was from charles.

''y/n we need to talk. I saw your concert. Call me when you can pls. – C.”

THE DRAMA!!!🫠

[crilbyte]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do an Alastor x reader one-shot inspired by the song 'Don't you dare make me fall in love with you' by Kaden MacKay?

Ooooh my gosh, I love this! This is so cute. I love the idea of an angrily lovesick alastor.

I wasn't sure if you wanted a smutty oneshot or not, so I stopped right before it. But if you'd like me to finish it lemme know!

Everything had been going so well. He'd wormed his way into the hotel, Charlie trusted him, he'd even gotten her to make a deal with him. Everything had been going according to plan. Until YOU showed up.

At first it wasn't so bad. Sure, you were pretty and intelligent and the only one who could make a decent cup of coffee in the whole hotel. Sure you were funny and sweet and the only one he could stand to sit with in the study to read. You were quiet when it called for it and loud when it was okay. That was all.

But then Alastor started noticing when you weren't there instead of just when you were. He began to schedule when he would read by the fire in the study for when he'd know you were there. It was one of these times that made him realize something might be wrong with him.

Alastor went to the study, ready to read silently alongside you as you both usually did at this time only to find you missing. It was then that he heard Charlie and Angels voices from outside in the hall.

“...no, she's just taking it really hard,” Charlie says softly.

“It’s not her fault,” Angel insists. “Girl needs to chill.”

“You know how she is, her reason for being down here is pretty different from most people's.”

“Yeah, I get that an’ all… But it's still *not* her fault. That crazy motherfucker deserved what he got. Fuck him.”

“Still, she’s just like this. She feels responsible for his death, even if he arguably did deserve it.”

“So, now what? Do we just let it play out?” Angel asks, seemingly sincere.

“I… I don't know,” Charlie sighs, exasperated. “I tried to talk to her, but she won't let me into her room. She’s locked herself in. So, yeah I guess…”

*So… you are in her room were you?* Alastor thought, already beginning to fade into shadows. Then that’s where he would go…

He hadn't even fully corporealized before he could hear the quiet sobs. Alastor slowly approaches the lump in the bed, a curled-up you hiding under the covers like a scared child. He sits beside you, a gentle hand on what he assumes is your head.

“My dear, what troubles you so…?” His crackled voice asks.

With a jump, you throw the covers off of your head, not having realized he was there. The look of shock on your face would have been quite amusing if it wasn't layered over red puffy eyes and an even more pallid complexion than you usually had.

“Alastor!” you chirp, quickly looking away and wiping your eyes. “W-what are you doing here? I thought I locked the door.”

“Indeed you did, luckily I am not bound by such trivial things,” Alastor replies proudly.

You give him a slightly irritated look. He’d take it; it was better than crying.

“I overheard that you were inconsolable up here, wouldn't even let Charlie in. That’s typically my cue to step in. So do tell, what can I do for you? My purpose here is to help after all.”

You give him a skeptical look. This wasn't exactly out of character for Alastor, but you know better than to assume that he would ever do anything purely out of the kindness of his heart.

“I'm not making any deals with you, Alastor,” you say, turning away from him and pulling the covers up to your shoulders.

“Who said anything about a deal?” He replies, only inches from your face.

You scream, jumping up to a sitting position. “Hell’s sake, Alastor. I wish you wouldn't do that.”

Alastor didn't reply, instead choosing to tilt his head with a closed-mouth smile.

With a sigh, you seem to give up. You look down at the sheets, your finger tracing an embroidered pattern on the duvet. “It’s about why I'm down here” you finally admit. “It's… just hard. It's the anniversary of when it happened and it's just…”

“Let me see if I've got this straight,” Alastor asks, spinning his cane. “You feel guilty for the sin that brought you here?”

You nod silently.

“And what exactly was that?”

You look up at him, nervously. “Murder…”

Alastor's eyes glint. He would never have guessed. “And what caused you to do such a… heinous crime against God?”

“He was a friend of my brothers. He was trying to blackmail me into… into doing porn for him.”

“So you murdered a man who'd threatened you?”

You nod. “And other girls.”

“Bit of a pimp, then eh?” He grins, sounds like you did the world a favor.”

You’re taken aback by that, you hadn't even considered that. You look down at the bed, little sniffles being the only sound between the two of you. Alastor moves closer, taking your chin in his thumb and first finger, forcing you to look at him.

“Now… I believe I asked you a question,” he chirps out, voice low and ridden with static. “What do you need? Your any desire is mine to fulfill. No deals necessary.”

You just stare up at him, stunned. There had to be a catch, right? Alastor was not *kind*. He didn't do things for no reason. His goal was always to further his own plans. But no matter how much you try, you can't figure out what he could get out of this, besides your trust.

“Come, my dear. Surely there's something, anything I can do to help,” he tries one last time.

The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them. “Stay with me tonight…”

Alastor pulls back slightly, eyes widening, his grin still present, but nervous. “You want me to…stay?” He asks.

You just nod, moving towards him. “Please?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rosie throws her hands up, waving them. “She wanted you to stay the night?”

Alastor takes a sip of his coffee, nodding.

“So how'd she take the rejection?” She asks playfully, raising an eyebrow.

“Whatever do you mean?” Alastor questions, lightly placing his cup back on its saucer.

“Well you didn't sleep with her,” she says with a scoff.

Alastor doesn't respond, instead taking another sip from his cup.

Rosie's eyes grow. “Alastor. You didn't.” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth in shock.

“I did as she asked. I'm not one to go back on a promise.”

“And… so… what was it like?” She asks, genuinely interested now.

He ponders, eyes looking off into the middle distance with thought as his brows pull together. “Warm?”

Rosie chokes on her tea.

“I haven't slept that well in a long time, frankly. It's not something I've ever been interested in before.”

“I'm well aware,” she all but stutters out.

Alastor takes another long sip from his coffee before continuing. “Since then, she’s had me stay with her every night this week. Which is the subject of the advice I came to you for.”

Stunned silence. Rosie can't think of a single word. She had not expected this. Instead, she just nods, motioning for him to continue.

“At least she doesn't snore,” he jokes, his canned radio laughter echoing.

“She doesn't…” Rosie blinks a few times, realization setting in. “Wait, so you didn't…”

“Hmm?” Alastor raises an eyebrow, peering at Rosie over his monocle. “Didn't what, my dear?”

“*Sex* dear,” she says bluntly, smirking.

Alastor's eyes are suddenly as wide as Rosie had ever seen them. With his trademark grin still plastered on his face, it was a pretty comedic expression.

“Oh, no, no,” Alastor says through a laugh once his initial shock wears off. “Absolutely not, no. I have no interest in such things. No, no.”

Rosie's grin grows as she squints at her old friend, analyzing every word, every moment. Something was off, and then it struck her.

“Darlin’, you’re dizzy with her,” she says flatly, sipping her tea.

Her words actually silence him for a moment. She couldn't mean that. She was wrong.

“You must be mistaken,” he says, attempting to brush the comment off while readjusting the silverware on the table.

“Well, let's just think about it for a minute. You like her, right?”

“Indeed. She's intelligent, powerful, and quite the little spitfire when she wants to be,” he admits readily.

“And you like being around her? She doesn't make you uncomfortable?”

“Quite the opposite. She goes out of her way to ensure that I am quite comfortable.”

“Al, I think you love this girl,” she says with a squeak of barely contained excitement.

"No,” he says a little more forcefully than intended. “I do not love her. I *like* her, I will readily admit that. But I do not love her. I don't love anyone. I only find it enjoyable to be around her, and I attempt to do what I can for her to be happy and fulfill this silly desire of hers to accend.”

“And you are willing to brutally murder anyone who gets in the way of that..." She adds.

Alastor makes a point not to acknowledge her statement.

“Oh sweetie, honey, darling,” she coos teasingly, reaching a hand out on the table to him. “That’s how I felt about my dear Franklin. Well, before things grew cold between us and he had that *horrible accident~.*”

Alastor's smile is unwavering, but his eyes give away quite a bit. He was thinking, fighting these suggestions in his head, but he trusted Rosie. She'd never done him wrong before. In fact she had even gone out of her way for him on multiple occasions. If she was saying it, she meant it.

“If any other soul in this realm spoke those words to me…” he trails off, but Rosie understands.

“I might be off the mark,” she admits, throwing her hands up. “But promise me you’ll think about it. After everything that girl has gone through, she deserves at least that much.”

The walk home is far from peaceful. Alastor’s mind is plagued with thoughts of his conversation with Rosie. She was one of the only souls in hell he would ever admit to feeling anything even remotely close to “trust” in. He wants to scoff, wave away such frivolous accusations and move along; but when he tries, something deep in his brain tugs at him. Like a hook stuck in a fish that was too stubborn to be reeled in.

With a heavy sigh, Alastor walks into the hotel. There are more sinners there than usual. The sight lifted his spirits, Charlie would be happy. Though quickly his grin twists to one of chagrin. It happened again. What was this? Surely Rosie wasn't right. He knew himself. He was The Radio Demon, one of the most feared overlords in hell, serial killer, and cannibal. There was no way that he-

Alastor’s eyes lock onto you, standing at the bar, back against the wall, hands up in a defensive position while some… *kreatin* stood in front of you, fist against the wall beside your head, keeping you there. He was suddenly boiling with rage. His grin shifts to a sneer, antlers growing steadily as his legs take him closer to the offending and soon-to-be *deceased* sinner.

“No, I’m sorry, I really don't want any…” he hears your non-confrontational voice and his throat burns.

“Come on,” the man’s gravely voice insists. “What’s one drink? It's on me.”

“I believe the lady said N͇̱͐̿͛́o̷͖̤̺̥͈̲̓̓.̢͙̼͈̝ͫ͊̋ͅ.” Alastor’s voice contorts, his eyes turning to dials as he grows in size.

The man stutters, mumbling out apologies before turning and quickly attempting to escape. Alastor made to follow but feels tiny hands on him, turning harshly to see who dared to stop him, only to see your small form hugging his arm. It was as though you had poured cold water over him. He shrinks back down to size, his grin shifting from its twisted form to a much softer one as he takes in your trembling frame.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He reaches a hand up and pats your head gently and you grip him tighter.

“Thank you, Alastor…Thank you.”

Alastor closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose.

*Fuck*…

The next week was difficult…

It was as if everything was conspiring together to find new and unique ways to piss Alastor off. Between having to restrain himself from tearing to shreds and devouring a new resident at the hotel after he disturbed you with extremely inappropriate remarks one fateful afternoon, and him finding himself genuinely happy at the sight of you when you were telling Charlie about it later… It felt as though his sanity was being used as a yo-yo. But this was not the end of it, or even the worst of it to come.

On one quiet afternoon, Alastor is sitting in the study, reading a book and sipping coffee, relaxing. Or at least, he *had* been relaxing. It was rather difficult to unwind when you are being watched.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alastor can see Charlie peeking in through the doorway. Each time he looks up to welcome her in, she disappears. She even begins just walking past the doorway over and over as though she is trying to work up the courage to go in, only to change her mind at the last second. After about ten minutes of this cat-and-mouse game, Alastor can't take it anymore.

“Are you going to enter, my dear, or are you planning on just staring the entire night?” He asks, not looking up from his book.

“O-oh. Sorry,” Charlie enters sheepishly, walking to sit in a nearby plush chair.

“So what brings you to me this afternoon?” Alastor asks, closing his book and placing it on the little table beside him.

“Um,” she looks down at her hands which are stuck between her thighs. She really did seem quite nervous. “I wanted to ask you for some advice?”

He perks at that. “Of course, my dear. Ask away, I’m always happy to help.”

“It's for a friend of mine.”

Okay, that doesn't narrow anything down, he thinks.

“A mutual friend of ours,” she continues.

And that narrows it down considerably. So she is talking about you, Alastor decides.

“Yes, and what problem does our friend have.

“Okay, so… There’s this guy…”

It was as though a hole opened in his chest. Three little words. Why had they affected him so strongly? He needed to quash this ridiculous and frivolous emotion.

“And you came to me?” He asks, examining his claws. “My dear, I'm hardly the sentimental type.”

“Well, he’s uh, a lot like you. Old fashioned, proper.” She looks so nervous to be asking him this, her face is red, which was quite noticeable with her pale complexion. “She… she *really* likes him, but she doesn't know how to tell him. So I hoped maybe you could help me give her some advice…?”

Alastor wants nothing more than to ask this man’s name and hunt him down.

The thought causes him to pause. What a strange intrusive thought. He attempts to shake it off, turning his attention back to Charlie.

“Well,” he begins. “That isn't much to go on.” Alastor crosses his legs, it feels as though he was trying to tie himself into a knot. What an annoying feeling.

“Ok, so… he’s smart and generous um…” Charlie bites her lip, “Funny?”

Alastor remains silent, this isn't very useful information.

“Is he a sinner, dear?” he inquires.

Charlie perks at that. “Oh, yes actually.”

He has to suppress a growl. *So it was some lowly human then,* He thinks as though he in't the same. He attempts some deduction. A sinner who identifies as male. Old-fashioned. Proper… That likely ruled out the recently deceased. Apparently “smart” and “funny”. Though Alastor mused he couldn’t be *that” smart to have ended up on his shit-list. He was beginning to compile a list of suspects. Just as he was about to ask another probing question, there came a voice from the door.

“Hey, Charlie, there’s some new girl here who swears that you told her she could have a room with a jacuzzi?” Angel says incredulously. “Bitch, if we have rooms with jacuzzis why the *fuck* am I staying in a traditional fucking suite?”

“Oh, uh, I think she may have misunderstood,” Charlie begins before turning to Alastor. “Sorry, I think I’ll have to deal with this personally… Thanks for listening, but, honestly… you can forget it. It’s not that important anyway.”

With that, she stands and leaves, though through the doorway Alastor can swear he saw Angel playfully elbow her ribs, though he couldn't begin to guess what that was about.

A sinner who was smart, generous, and funny. This was sounding less and less like someone who would have ended up in hell. He would do more reconnaissance later. For now, he wanted to prepare for his radio show tomorrow, hoping it could take his mind off this itching feeling in the back of his head.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's quiet in Alastor’s room. The only sounds coming from the ticking of his grandfather clock and the quiet sounds of jazz from his gramophone. It had been a rough day, well… a rough fewI days. But this afternoon seemed to be going more his way, he thought. At least until he hears a knock at his door.

Alastor sighs, letting his head fall over the back of his chair. Who could it possibly be at this hour? After so much inner turmoil, he had very much wished to just relax in his room. It seemed as though even that was asking too much. Alastor steadies himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, and stands. He opens the door only to be surprised. Outside stood a very nervous looking Charlie. With a quirk of his brow; Alastor's grin grows.

“And what, may I ask, brings you to my humble abode at such a late hour?” He asks.

“Well,” she begins with a twitchy look in her eye. “Tomorrow we're doing a sort of graduation party,” she begins to explain how she has a surprise party planned for you, that your progress was so much faster than she could have ever assumed and so she wanted to throw you a party before you disappeared up to heaven.

Each new word from her mouth felt like another weight added to the chain that threatened to drag Alastor down into some deeper pit of hell itself.

“You think she'll be heavenbound soon?” He asks, his mouth dry.

“Yes!” She replies cheerfully. “The rain she was down here to begin with was pretty shakey, anyway. To be honest, I'm surprised it's taken this long.”

“You'll have to excuse me, my dear, but I've just remembered I have something very important to take care of,” Alastor says with a harsh smile.

“But I haven't even asked what I came here to-” Charlie attempts to finish, but is cut off as the door closes in her face.

With a determination he hadn't felt in a long time, Alastor turns and I'm stalks towards his table, picking up his book and returning it to its shelf before dissolving into Shadow. He doesn't reappear outside your door, or even attempt to knock. Instead he apparates directly into your room. Luckily you were looking in the direction his shape takes form in so you're not quite as startled by his sudden appearance, even if it does shake you slightly, seeing as how you're in bed and in your nightgown.

“Alastor?” You ask as he solidifies and steps towards you.

"Darling," He whispers, a small smirk on his face at your state of undress. "I'm here to make a deal…”

"a deal...? with me?" You ask, curious.

"Yes, my dear," He murmurs, his tone turning serious. "Charlie has informed me that your ascension is nearing. I have come to persuade you to… make a different choice.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. "Oh... she said that?" You ask. "And why... is that?"

Alastor takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because, I'd be... lonely, without you here. I've grown fond of your quiet presence, and I don't like the thought of going back to solitude.”

You tilt your head. "But you have Charlie, aren't you and her quite close?"

Alastor pauses for a moment at your question, his eyes narrowing slightly. He never thought you would question his reasoning.

"She... it isn't the same," He growls. "I want you, here... always, keeping me... sane." A hint of sadness crosses his face, but it's quickly replaced by a smirk. "Charlie and I have... similar goals. But we are not close. She doesn't need me the way you do... and she certainly doesn't have... my tastes" He says, taking another step towards you.

You give up on this line of questioning and instead start a new one.

"So you want to make a deal for my soul?" you ask. "You get my soul and in return I can have... anything I want?”

Alastor smiles again, but more genuinely this time. "Yes... that's what I'm proposing. Your soul, in exchange for anything your heart desires." He says with a grin, sitting down on your bed and holding out a hand towards you. "Do we have a deal?”

You feel the static in the air, the sound seeming to fill your ears like a flood as he leans towards you. You watch as his antlers slowly grow and green scratch marks appear in the air, forming into unfamiliar symbols that flash in and out. You look down at his hand, your gaze steeling before you tentatively reach out, but then pause. Just as he thinks you might pull back, you do the opposite, confidently gripping his hand and looking at him with a determined glint in your eyes.

"Deal.”

Alastor chuckles low as you accept his hand and the deal. The static intensifies as he grips your hand back, pulling you closer to him. The symbols in the air flare brightly for a moment before they vanish, leaving a faint glow that's slow to fade. You watch as the green stitching appears in his lips, a gold contract and a quill appearing between you.

You take the pen and sign your name without hesitation. The moment the last letter is written, a flash of green light fills the room and you feel a heavy weight settle around your neck as a neon green collar appears there. The chain attached to it leading to Alastor's still outstretched hand.

Alastor chuckles again as the collar settles around your neck, tugging on it playfully. He brings his free hand up to trace a finger along the chain, watching it with interest before he looks back at you.

"The weight of your decision…” he says. You watch his finger as it slides down the chain, your body leaning towards him. Alastor's finger hooks into the collar, pulling a little harder, causing your body to lean closer to him still. "...is now physically upon you," he finishes, a dark glint in his eyes as he studies you. He leans in close, whispering seductively, "And what could you possibly want so badly you'd be willing to trade your soul for it without a second thought?”

"If I tell you, you can't go back on it right?" You ask, your eyes boring into his. "Just like I can't go back on the deal, you can't either, correct?”

Alastor smirks, a wicked and sinister expression taking over his features. "That's right," he confirms, running his thumb along the collar before letting it fall from his fingers. "Once you've signed the contract, there's no going back. So go ahead. Tell me what is it that could tempt you so drastically. What did you desire?”

You're silent a moment, just staring at him, still leaned in close, before a single word falls from your lips.

"You…”

Alastor tilts his head slightly, processing your word as you stare at each other for a tense, long moment. Slowly, his lips curl into a small smirk.

"You desire me?" He repeats, an almost mocking tone in his voice, but his eyes tell a different story.

You nod, silently moving forward towards him, closing the distance between you. Alastor watches as you crawl across the bed towards him. Something flashes in his expression, but it's gone just as quick as it came. He moves his hand from your collar to the small of your back, pulling you gently closer by slowly reeling you in. Closer, until your body is almost flush with his, able to feel the rise and fall of his chest under his suit jacket, his lips a breath away from yours. You look up at him, blinking rapidly, mouth slightly open.

"Yes," you say in almost a whisper. "What I desire most... is you…”

Alastor closes his eyes, your words causing a visible shiver to run through him. He's quiet for a moment, just simply holding you close before he takes in a deep breath and finally crashes his lips against yours, a low moan rumbling in his chest. You gasp into the kiss, moaning. Alastor takes the chance to slip his tongue between your lips, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer against him. His hands move from your waist and up your back, pulling you impossibly close as he devours your mouth hungrily.

A groan escapes him as he can feel your tongue fighting his own for dominance. He finds he likes the challenge. Alastor chuckles against your lips, breaking the kiss for just a moment before diving back in, hands slipping up under your shirt to rest against the warmth of your skin. He matches your fight for dominance with his own, a growl rumbling through his chest as you continue.

Tonight, Alastor would claim full ownership of you...

[holly-opal]

Prompt: Child!Reader has a nightmare, and Puzzles comforts them to the best of his abilities

(Sequel to the last two Child!Reader fics)

TW: Nightmares, child abandonment, blood, implied child abuse.

It has been over two months since Mr. Puzzle's took you in. You have been happier ever since. He fed you, gave you new clothes (he said "Those filthy rags are not the appropriate outfit for a good little star like you" when he gifted you the clothes) and when he wasn't working, he was either playing with you or watching movies with you. You were brushing your teeth, standing of a blue stool and looking at yourself in the mirror. Your spit out the foam, and saw something strange, and looked a little closer. The foam wasn't white as it should be, it was red. You realize that blood was coming out of your mouth, and your teeth were coming out of your gums. Falling either down onto the floor or down the sink. You ran out of the bathroom to look for Mr. Puzzles. The corridor was long, so long in fact, that you were certain that the hallways were stretching to keep you from getting to the other parts of the house. The floor crumbled and you fell in, screaming and crying as you shouted for help. Suddenly, someone catched you in their arms and held you in a comforting manner. You felt more relaxed as you realize that it was Mr. Puzzles. He started carrying you somewhere, and you sighed in relief. But then, he threw you into a garbage bin. You yelped as you were submerged in rotten food and rusty gadgets. "You seriously think I would want you? Ha! Nobody wants you! Not even your own parents want you!" He laughed and closes the bin. You completely consumed by darkness.

.

.

.

You woke up in a cold sweat and let out a gutteral scream. You closed you eyes, you felt tears run down your face as you sobbed on your bed. You heard footsteps fast approaching and the door swinging open. You opened your eyes. It was Mr. Puzzles, looking at you with concern and fear. He rushed up to you and scooped you up in his long, lanky arms. You sniffled and hugged him, burying your face into his chest. He sighed and rubbed your back up and down. "Oh starlight, did you have a bad dream?" He asked with deep sorrow. You nodded your head and continued sobbing into his shirt. "I-I was brushing my teeth, and my mouth started b-bleeding and- and I fell down a hole, an-and you threw me down a garbage b-bin, and you said that nobody wants me. And then you closed the bin." You hiccuped, you could barely form a good sentence with how much you were stuttering. You sobbed and cried for what felt like forever, he shushed you and rocked you in his arms in a comforting manner. You relaxed in his grasp and he wiped away your tears, Mr. Puzzles gave you a soothing smile. "Oh my precious little gem. I will never leave you behind. I will forever hold up on my promise and never abandon you, I guarantee that."

You nodded your head, but you still felt upset about the dream. You were still afraid. He sensed this and got an idea. He set you down on your bed and tucked you in along with Mr. Hugs. He sat by you on the bed. "Would you like me to sing you a song to calm your nerves? I remember old nursery rhymes that played on television would always calm me down after a long stressful day." He suggested. You grinning and nod your head with excitement. You always did love songs. Especially lullabies. It reminded you of a time when you weren't so miserable, when your parents were still around and your mother sang to you, even though she never apologized for yelling at you when you did something wrong or grabbing your wrist too tight or pulling your hair when you didn't listen to her, it still felt nice to hear her voice out you to sleep. "This one is a personal favorite. It reminds me of you." Mr. Puzzles said before clearing his voice and began to sing.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are!

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,

When nothing shines upon,

Then you show your little light,

Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveller in the dark,

Thanks you for your tiny spark,

He could not see which way to go,

If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,

And often through my curtains peep,

For you never shut your eye,

Till the sun is in the sky.

'Tis your bright and tiny spark,

Lights the traveller in the dark

Though I know not what you are,

Twinkle, twinkle, little star."

By the end of the rhyme, you yawned and felt sleepiness wash over you. He smiled and patted your head, he was about to leave, but you grabbed his hand. "Wait," you said, "won't you sleep with me? I don't want to be alone." He nodded his head and got into your bed. You snuggled up next to him as he was spooning you and hugging you like a doll. He kissed you on the forehead and hummed softly. You yawned and hugged his arms. "Goodnight, Mr. Puzzles." You said softly as you drifted off to sleep. He smiled. Mr. Puzzles kissed you on the head and ruffled your hair as he felt warmness in his heart.

"Goodnight, my little star."

[svt-hari]

DIARY ENTRY NO. 001 DATE: 24/04/26 TIME: 1:56 AM

"let me love you. i'll give you all the light i have." - let me love you by day6

"it's getting late, don't you think?" wooseok questions quietly.

hari shrugs, leaning back into the patio chair, staring out into the city's night life down below. wooseok stopped by after he heard from her members how she wasn't in a good mood after he realized that she never replied to his messages.

"you can go, i'm going to stay out here a bit longer." she hums, letting the background music wrap her up like a blanket.

sitting out on the balcony while having a playlist running is one of hari's favorite ways to wind down after a long day. the only thing special about today is that wooseok was sitting right next to her. she didn't expect the male to be at her apartment and he wouldn't let himself leave until he knew that she was alright. after many tries, hari thinks that he finally thinks that she's fine.

"fine," he replies, exhaling loudly, "can i play a song before i leave?"

hari nods and gives him her phone, letting him scroll through melon music. a few beats of silence pass before the music and voices of the artist fills their ears.

the two sit in silence and enjoys day6 serenading to the two. it wasn't until the chorus that the lyrics catches hari's attention, wonpil's voice piercing her ears.

"please nod your head, it's not the love you've known so far, i can give you the love that is endlessly warm."

it's at this moment where time freezes and hari realizing the meaning behind the lyrics. she turns her head to see wooseok already looking at her with determination in his eyes.

"what?" she whispers into the air, confused and worried and thrilled from the lyrics.

"listen carefully, okay?" he responds, not looking away.

"let me give you all my love, let me love you. i'll give you all the light i have. you just need to like me, let me tell you all my love. please nod your head, it's not the love you've known so far. i can give you the love that is endlessly warm."

wooseok sings along with young k and sungjin, the last chorus almost being a confession made by himself.

the couple sits in silence as the song comes to an end, hari's eyes wells up with tears and quickly rubs them before they fall down her face. wooseok leans over and wipes the tears away, not uttering a word.

"oppa..." hari whispers, watching as his eyes scan her face.

she slouches in defeat with her emotions, letting everything go. everything comes to hari all at once, filling her mind up with different emotions and scenarios.

wooseok tucks a piece hair behind her ear and hums quietly, paying attention to her lips before making eye contact with her.

"oppa... are you sure?" she asked again in a hushed manner, afraid that he might disappear into thin air.

"i'm sure. i know it's been hard but i promise you i'll always stand by your side no matter what. it'll be us against the world."

hari searches in his eyes for any rejection but instead she fines pure love in his eyes. it takes a moment for hari to take everything in before she nods.

"okay."

"okay?"

"i think i'm ready. small baby steps, don't you think?"

wooseok chuckles, "baby steps is a great idea. so, what's your first step?"

"this."

hari leans over and gives a chaste kiss to wooseok, before quickly pulling away. he looks at her for approval before bringing her in for another kiss, gently tilting hari's face to bring her closer. their lips move together as they release their pent up emotions into the kiss, showering their love to each other.

wooseok couldn't help but chase after hari's lips as she pulled away for air, both slightly breathing heavily.

"that was..."

"amazing." wooseok finished, eliciting a giggle from the girl.

"you can say that again."

[ifeelthereforeimnot]

GUYS HOLY SHIT I just realized I, at one point in my life, had a Dean.

I don't remember how we became friends, he was just always around until I couldn't remember a time before I'd turn to my left and there he was. And even now, I miss him like a limb I wasn't born with but had grown so used to that I still feel pain where there's nothing.

I realize now that he didn't love me, he owned me. Or maybe it was both. Maybe he didn't know how to do one without the other. But I loved it. I loved being loved. I loved being his. I loved that he had a name for me and only me and would snap at anyone else who used it. "Only I get to call her that." Like a brand, like a collar. And I handed him the leash attached to it, yanking my own head back because the leash is too short but it's the only one I have "here, you dropped this."

He was never impressed by any of the guys I dated. They weren't good enough. He was not interested in hanging out with me and my boyfriend. But he'd always insist I come along with him and his girlfriend. He'd make inside jokes and play funny songs and look into the rear view mirror but never at her. Always at me. "You're about the same size, right?" when buying a gift for his girlfriend. I am. The exact same size. I wonder if he knows that.

"You're like a sister to me," he said. Then he'd hold my hand in class, hidden under the table. Pinkies inching closer and closer until they interlocked, neither of us moving, neither of us so much as breathing so as to not disturb the fragile moment we've created. The bell would ring and we'd pull apart and never mention it again but he'd always sit with his fingers curled around his chair.

"You're like a sister to me," he said into my ear as the wind whipped around us. It was pouring rain but we didn't want to go home. Never wanted to go home. I don't remember why but we were wrapped in each other's arms. It was the logical place to end up. It was safe. It was home. We stayed like that for a long time, pressed chest to chest, cheek to cheek, long after the moment had passed. Long after the intensity had calmed and the passion had simmered and the cold and rain seeped into our bones because we couldn't feed moments like that. We just couldn't.

"You're like a sister to me," he said, turning to face me as we laid on the roof of my old elementary school. It was winter, it was cold, but we had cigarettes and the buzz of adrenaline to keep us warm. We stood at the railing, leaned over the edge and I threw my arms out. He put his arms around my waist, head on my shoulder, go ahead. "IM THE KING OF THE WORLD" and I was. For a minute.

"You're like a sister to me," he said into my hair, loose-limbed and wasted for the first time. I was sprawled across his chest, finally FINALLY. We were always touching but the alcohol lowered every inhibition as to how much. I had only gotten to lay with him once before, after days of no sleep, clinging to each other barely conscious. There was really no other excuse for us to touch this much. So I relished in it, floppy and warm and dizzy myself. "You're like a sister to me," he'd said, "but if you weren't..."

And he just let it hang there. Left me wondering if he'd meant it, if he'd even really said it in the first place. He just left it there like a dark stain on the thinly veiled friendship and now it was there and he acknowledged it and it was there and no amount of scrubbing could get that stain out. Not really. Not completely.

I loved him in a way I'd never loved somebody before. I still don't know, years later, where to place him. He was a brother to me but I'd never had a brother so maybe he wasn't. To call him a friend would be blasphemy, an insult to the way a brush of his fingertips lit up my heart. But to call him more would be a lie.

I can't just put him in a box and tuck him away so that box is just sitting there, still open. It will always be open, I'll always miss that limb. And I think that's why Sam's wife is blurry and his son is named Dean and his impala is sitting in the garage, pristine. He couldn't close the box either.

[shiicheol]

silent converstions ~ 2

‣ pairing: jeon wonwoo x oc 

‣ summary: Maxine found comfort in regularly sending messages to the number of her deceased ex, seeing no harm in it—until she received a response from a persistent stranger named Wonwoo. What are the chances of forming a connection with this unexpected stranger? How will their story unfold?

‣ genre: strangers to lovers. angst.

‣ chapters:

one

‣ disclaimer: The ideas and personalities depicted in this Alternate Universe (AU) do not reflect the actual views or characteristics of the artists. Their names are used purely as placeholders. Please remember that these stories are fictional and do not represent reality. Thank you!

NOTE: Text messages are in italics, while non-italicized text represents thoughts and narration

Wonwoo's POV

Texting Stranger

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for being a bother. I'm sorry because you have to put up with a stranger persistent enough to message a person who is no longer here.

What life do you live that makes it feel like you should apologize for grieving?

Texting Stranger

Please, don't respond anymore. You will never hear from me again. Thank you for your time.

There's so much I want to say but in respect to you, I will hold back.

No messages from you? I said to myself, as I observed the lockscreen of my device.

I'll assume that you're in the process of moving on. I hope you're doing well wherever and whoever you may be. 

However, as if one cue, the name of the Unknown sender had flashed on my screen again.

Texting Stranger

Hi, love. I told myself that I'll stop messaging you but here I am with a bottle of alcohol and a million emotions running through my heart.

I remember you used to commend me for having exceptionally good typing skills despite being drunk. It once used to be a memory I hold dear to my heart but now the thought of it wrecks me in unimaginable ways.

I was fine. I've been fine. Or maybe I thought I was.

How can I ever be fine, right? How is it possible for me to move on? You've managed to move on but why can't I do the same?

Fuck.

I'm rambling again, aren't I? I remember every time I would be in talkative mode, you would interrupt me and it would lead to an argument. Believe it or not, I miss it so much.

Please, love, stop me from rambling again. I promise I won't get mad at you. Just, please.

I don't know you personally but why do I feel your pain? 

Texting Stranger

Can I call? Please?

Her message had been surprising, yet my response was beyond me. The next thing I knew, I was waiting for the call, not hesitating to click the answer button, as if the panic i had felt previously had been abandoned.

As soon as I picked up the phone, a sense of regret flashed through me as I was met with mere silence at the end of the line.

I thought that maybe she had fallen asleep.

Seconds passed. 

Minutes passed.

Nothing.

I released a breath of relief I didn't know I was holding upon realizing the possibility of her being in a drunken state.

"Hmmm," I heard a soft groan from my device just as I was about to click the end button.

I looked at it with wide eyes, waiting for her to speak again.

"Love... I miss you, love," the voice slurred out.

"P-please, come back," said the soft voice again.

I couldn't seem to do anything but listen.

That was until I heard a whimper.

"Shhhhh," I tried soothing her.

What could I do, right? What can I say?

For a time, it became a cycle. She would repeat words such as "Love." "I miss you." "Please, come back." Then I would try to calm her down.

Until she asked a question that caught me off guard.

"C-can you please sing me a song like before?" She said with a voice that showed zero signs of sobriety.

Me? Sing? That was something kept private between me and the confines of my own space.

"Please."

But declining would be too selfish when I know the state she was already in.

I sigh.

With no second thought, I started humming a lullaby.

"I can't hear you." she slurred.

With another sigh, I made my voice louder but not too much for it to disturb next-door neighbors.

Just when I was about to finish singing the 3rd song, I heard silent snores from the other end of the line.

I released another breath of relief I realize I was holding.

I looked at the clock and it read, 4:30 am.

We've been on call for 2 hours.

I considered ending the call but it didn't feel right. I thought of staying the entire time but it didn't feel right either.

So after much contemplation, I decided to wait 20 minutes before hanging up.

That way, I'll know that she's in the middle of her deep sleep.

As I waited for time to pass by, I wondered why I was doing this in the first place.

I'm not one to do favors for others.

I'm not one to do phone calls late at night.

I'm not one to sing a song.

I'm not one to empathize.

But why?

I would say out of pity but is it really?

If it was simply out of pity, I would feel nothing but sorry for her.

So, why?

Why do I care so much?

Why do I feel the need to be there for her?

Why do I want her to feel happy?

Why does it hurt when I hear her cry even though I don't know who she is?

Why?

Why do I see myself in her?

[bettyfrommars]

After I saw your blurb game post I just had to run to your inbox

E4, *, 💜

Very excited to see what I get ☺️♥️

Gia you sweet angel, you can have whatever you want 🫠 blurb game

Your Person is that babe Drifter!Eddie, your Place is a Concert Venue, and your Thing is a Payphone

18+ONLY, hints to monster Eddie, yearning, scars, allusions to physical fights and angst, gender neutral reader

word count: 764

Eddie had been on the road for so long, he often forgot what day it was. Was it Saturday or was it Tuesday? You were never far from his thoughts, and the weeks all blurred together.

He wasn't supposed to feel this way, especially not about someone he'd met while on a short visit back to the Midwest.

He took a rubber band out of his pocket to tie his hair back before he picked up another heavy piece of equipment to load it onto the stage with ease. It was the summer of '98 by then, and he'd taken a job as a roadie for Pantera on their European tour for Ozzfest. He hadn't known why at the time, but he needed to get as far away from the states as he could, far away from whatever connection bound him to you.

He was scared shitless that you'd see who he really was and run. Worse yet, what if he woke up from one of those nightmares about the Upside Down and he hurt you? Nah, he wouldn't be able to live with himself then.

He overheard one of the new guys ask, "which one is Eddie?" To which Dimebag Darrell pointed in his direction and said, "the one over there, the one with all the gnarly scars."

It didn't bother him anymore, not like it had in those years right after it happened, when he was so full of rage, he'd pick stupid fights for literally no reason. Back when he wanted to transmute his pain onto others and make them hurt as bad as he hurt.

Backstage that night, while Phil growled out the lyrics for the song This Love, the music pounded in his chest and watching the action under the bright lights made him forget who he was for a second. Through the deafening throb of the crowd, he made his way down along the backstage hallway where he remembered seeing a payphone earlier.

He'd had your phone number written on the back of his hand in black marker for the longest time, and before it faded completely, he'd committed it to memory. He had always been good with numbers.

He stared at the box for a hot minute before yanking the receiver off the metal cradle with a curse, as if he'd just lot a bet with it.

He dropped in the quarters for long distance, punched the keypad, it rang, and he held his breath. In the space between the second and third ring, he realized he hadn't remembered to take the time difference into account. Shit, what if he woke you up? No, it had to be the middle of the day still where you were.

If you were still in the same place, if you even wanted to hear from him.

He panicked a little when a voice finally came on the line, but it was your answering machine. Much safer talking to a machine than a real person, so he took a breath to prepare what he would say.

"...just leave your name and number at the beep and I'll get back to you..."

The beep was a long one, felt like it would never end.

He cleared his throat. "Hey, it's me, um, it's Eddie. I know it's been a while but I'm out here in Italy or some shit and I----"

But then your voice came on the line, your real voice this time, and you sounded winded like you'd been exercising or something.

"Eddie? Oh my god, Eddie? Are you still there?"

If only you could see the huge ass grin that spread across his face.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "I'm still here. How are you?"

You'd been screening your calls, waiting to see who it was, and maybe you'd get back to them later. Since you were on the other side of the apartment, you worried you wouldn't get to the phone fast enough. You'd slipped on the rug and bounced off the wall, landing on your knees in front of the sofa.

"I'm good, I'm..." you trailed off, feeling a wave of relief and happiness so strong, you almost burst into tears. "It's good to hear your voice again."

He ran his thumb along the plastic divide, feeling all lovesick goofy. "Well, I figured, you know, it wouldn't hurt to check in, make sure you're okay or whatever. This tour is nuts, I wish you could see it."

You climbed up on the sofa to hug a pillow, smiling into the receiver.

"Tell me all about it."

[seaweedstarshine]

He knows her as soon as he sees her.

Time Lords always do — when they’re looking. And by Rassilon, he has been looking. Afraid of what he’ll find. Afraid he can’t both save Pond’s baby and the naughty friend he loves.

He didn't recognize the child, but then, he hadn’t yet felt how time courses through River's veins. But now — now he can see.

Mels. Melody. The only water in the forest. His bespoke psychopath. His convicted murderer lover, intact. He failed to save the child.

A smile floods his face, and he runs towards her with open arms.

[chromotps]

Do you have any favorite acelu headcanons/tropes/dynamics?? All your works of them are so gorgeous and amazing and wonderful that it’s got me curious on what other thoughts you might have for them. （●´∀｀）ノ♡

AHHH thank you!! From you, it means a lot--I love so many of the details and backstories woven into your works for them!! TwT

I barely know where to begin with this bc like. Everything about acelu is my favorite. But I've also sort of been in a brainrot for them for so long now that my brain is entirely mush when I even think of them. Where do I start???

I guess, I love all the Ace-Lives-related headcanons. Anything about him finding more of a sense of self after Marineford, now that he's reckoned with the fact that he really is unconditionally loved... I personally adore any storyline where Ace kind of mellows out, like, his life isn't about proving he deserves to exist anymore, so he isn't as unforgiving with himself. I actually wanna link this comment thread between me & @to-a-merrier-world bc the headcanon of Ace getting a Stawhat tattoo makes me go wild. It just makes so much sense—his Whitebeard tattoo was on his back as a sign of worth and labor and duty, but the Stawhat tattoo over his heart would place more emphasis on his joys and dreams and jusT gosh. I need to lie down. This idea also ties into your to be deserving fic and Ace allowing himself more like, purely whimsical adornment?? Especially if it's gifts from Luffy??? I can't quite word it now, but the way it could symbolize him just loving the parts of himself that aren't just for fighting makes me. weak. I think it's why I like drawing post-timeskip Ace ideas so much (I already have another sketch I'm planning to post 😂)

hhhh okay that was a lot of Ace Talk. On Luffy's side... tbh Luffy is always harder for me to pin down. But I always love the idea that he needed Ace as a kid just as much as Ace needed him. Like this hc (from another comment 😂)—"Ace needs someone to prove unconditionally that he's lovable, and Luffy needs someone to prove that his love is important, and not easy to abandon." tbh acelu reminds me of my old D&D character, where basically, she was always pretty cheerful and resilient, but felt isolated—like she was always too alien to really relate to others. But then, this other character loved her as she is, and I think Ace did something similar for Luffy in the end? Like, in a world where Luffy never got Ace, I wonder if he'd still be as emotionally secure and kind. Probably! But... ahhh. This hc is more indulgent, but I really love the idea that Ace helps Luffy remember who he is beneath all the power and bravery. Where most of the One Piece world loves Luffy for being a liberator and a fearless captain, Ace loved him before all that—when he was just a kid who loved to laugh and share a meal and marvel at the world.

Oh my goddd I'm rambling. uuuuhhhh there's so much more, I love both when people write Ace as cool and suave, but also when he's a giant lovesick dork... The enemies/annoyance-to childhood friends-to lovers trope works in every world, I'd love to see it in AUs as like a bodyguard + celebrity/royalty plot, or arranged marriage—or pretty much, any story where Luffy wins Ace over with his terrifyingly stubborn love. I also love the fact that their dynamic is so playful!!! If an acelu fic/art doesn't imply that they can—and love—laughing together, then it's out of character to me. 😂

I don't know... they just have it all.... the depth and "I would die for you" level of devotion. But also the ridiculous "we're two feral gremlins who dare each other to eat doritos soaked in mountain dew" shenanigans. It's that mix of both.

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

Fred looking Sweet in S O U R

[butterflieswhisper]

hhelp wait this is so funny. didnt you follow me forever ago after a scott themed october song analysis . sorry if you dont remember that and this ask doesnt make sense but this is still funny to me

hi!!!! yeah. it was the cherri crane lives art i think and also where you made your flower husbands tag! I have never really interacted with fh outside of you (and like, seeing pretty fanart) but i am nonetheless deeply invested in your interpretation specifically!!! I honestly haven't watched jimmy outside of rats and the beginning of empires2 either i genuinely have no clue what they get up to you just seem to have a lot of fun with it

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I finally listened to side 2 of Steeltown and I have just one thing to say after listening to it:

Tony Butler is my favorite bassist. My #1, favorite bassist. Out of all of them; all bassists, and all of my favorite bassists. He's my favorite, hands down.

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: December 12

"The Long Goodbye" by Brooks & Dunn

[homosociallyyours]

Edit of the Paris interview footage set to Paris (from Midnghts 3am edition) WHEN

[saudebazi]

❤