#while constantly trying to kill each other

[nightmarethrenody]

The results of capitalism are truly horrific.

Look at the stark cruelty implied in the phrase "earn a living." We have to keep proving our right to exist, every day, and the worth of our lives is measured in money. We even say, explicitly, that so-and-so is "worth x dollars a year"!

People who don't work are called lazy and undeserving, as if labor was a virtue in itself and not a means to an end (and yet the rich are seldom castigated for not having jobs, being somehow assumed to have "earned" any money they have). We produce plentiful food, but people still starve because corporations would rather throw it away than give it away, out of fear it would undercut their profits. Everyone and everything is seen only as something to extract value from.

An enormous amount of work is constantly being done that is, at best, completely pointless — if not actively harmful. Companies employ people to design and manufacture products that no-one wants or needs, employ advertisers to try to manipulate people into wanting them, and then when the fad is over, the excess stock is dumped in a landfill as the CEO ambles off with a bag of cash (often while declaring bankruptcy). All that effort for a net total of some environmental damage and a lot of annoying ads. Unless your goal is to make rich people richer, if would be much more efficient to just hand all the employees some money and be done with it. Society demands you have a job to prove you deserve to continue existing, but doesn't seem to care much about if your work actually accomplishes anything.

All the world's resources have been hoarded by few greedy bastards, and we get called "entitled" for asking them to leave us a little bit to keep ourselves alive. When they do toss us scraps, they expect us to thank them for "giving us jobs" which help make them even richer, while making the world worse for everyone else. If we refuse their terms, they complain — because they feel entitled to our labor.

There is no ethical consumption under capitalism because we are enmeshed in a system that will kill us for disobedience. It will do so quietly and softly, and will not even notice. We live by small margins, and so we are killed by margins, suffocating to death under the bloated weight of capitalism's cancerous greed.

We need social safety nets like healthcare, housing, food stamps, and universal basic income, because they will give us a little room to breathe. They can give us the power to say no to exploitative working conditions and unethical employers without being afraid of starvation. The rich rely on this implicit threat of death to coerce us into driving the engine of capitalism, even as it crushes us; if we can choose not to be their tools, they are disarmed. This is the point of labor unions — and if universal basic income is made truly universal, there will be no-one desperate enough to be hired as scabs.

At this point, someone always asks, "If no-one has to work, how will anything get done?" I've already mentioned how we're doing so much more work than we need to be, thanks to our capitalist overlords teaming up with the Protestant Work Ethic to insist on us being indiscriminately and pointlessly productive. I think that if people weren't being constantly overworked and burnt out from trying to keep own their heads above water, plenty of them would use their time and energy to help other people. The point of society is to look out for each other.

If you don't think people will ever do any work if they don't have to, all you're really saying is that you can't conceive of a society functioning without forced labor.

[honeyblackberries]

whenever new sylus content comes out in game it all just further solidifies the fact that he's so much more than the typical 'morally grey villain’ love interest people could easily write him off as. i always find myself reminded of the fact that he’s not only such a well written character but a really good lover. 

he makes sure mc/the player is well fed before he starts to eat, he makes it a point to get her favorite drink for her when they meet up. when she challenges him he matches her energy, when she wants to do something he always indulges her and goes along with her plans. 

alternatively, when she doesn’t want to do something—even if he thinks it’s good for her or he would prefer for it to happen—if she says no then the answer is no. like while his first instinct was to kill the old lady who stabbed her during the zoion hunt he backed off when she told him to. he bandaged her up with care and didn’t simmer in his own anger or try to contradict her wishes like other depictions of that genre of man might have.

they play video games together. he fist bumps her when she does a cool move to shoot down their enemies. he’s trying to become a better singer so she’ll like it when he sings for her. he says the soul is one of the most precious gifts given to humanity and implies that she makes up half of his. he wants to help her become strong enough to protect herself. he says their connection transcends current circumstance and repeats constantly that their lives are bound together.

everything sylus has done previously was in preparation to meet her. everything he does currently is working towards having a future with her. when instinct and base desire tell him to devour her, take her strength and be rid of the power she has over him, he doesn’t give in. and with the hints to more of their past lore it seems like in each lifetime he’s stuck in a never ending cycle of having to kill her or be killed by her again and again, yet he persists.

he's the type of man i personally want to work towards deserving and i'm coming to understand how i've accidentally mischaracterised him in the past. i think i could write as many fics about him as i liked, but i would never do him justice.

[ecstaticasusual]

i taste blood in my mouth

[runnning-outof-time]

Jenny @cherrycilly I loved this glimpse into Tommy coming home and his sweetheart dealing with the obvious changes!

My heart hurt for her. She was mourning what used to be while trying to make the most/best decisions with him in front of her. Her stream of thoughts and her constantly remembering that many women were made widows makes it seem like she feels guilty for missing the way Tommy used to be. It very much seems like she’s forcing herself to think ‘you should be happy he came back…there’s a lot of other women who would kill to be in your shoes’ and it breaks my heart to see.

The dance they sort of did around each other the entire time was interesting to see — she so wanted to reach out and touch him and he was trying so hard to remind himself that he was home and things were different from what they were in France. It killed my to see her hesitating in her attempts to touch him or be close to him but I totally understand why she did it.

I also love how you described him when she first saw him on the train platform. I could so vividly see these changes in his appearance and demeanor - I’m sure her seeing them shattered her heart.

Thanks so much for sharing this! 💛 I’m sorry I wrote an essay of a comment

Army dreamers

(Angst+ fluff)

Tommy shelby returns from the Great War, a changed man

CW: war, trauma, war trauma, read at your own discretion.

Based on the movie "the edge of love" (don't bully me If this sucks please)

tommy was never truly wholeheartedly a good or gentle man ,maybe before the war he used to laugh and play with horses but war changes people , the man that used to laugh and play ,returned cold and detached. Of course nobody dares to imagine what horrors someone could see and experience to make them shut off. His cold demeanor became a mask a shield,a shield more bulletproof than the most modern tank.

I stand at the train platform, holding my breath. I wrote tommy ,my tommy so many letters when he was in France, letters of worry and love stained with tears and wishes "come back,come back ill bake you a pie and you'll lay on my chest" i dreamt of his warm touch. I cried almost every night,Tommy's bright blue eyes that sparkled when he played with his favourite horse, they said that boy will change the world. The blank expression on his face scared me when he got off the train with arthur and John. Many soldiers returned changed from the war, many soldiers never returned, many women became windows, and many more had to take care of or injured and broken men. Tommy was quiet ,all those that returned were, I can't imagine the horrors they saw in the trenches ,fighting for a king in his comfortable tower away from the blood and guts.

"tommy" ,I say through tears, my voice shakes,was that a dream another dream, the memory of his touch almost slipped away from me on some cold nights.

He stood as tall and handsome as I ever remembered, his dark brown hair, his blue eyes full of light now had a new color to them, somehow colder,ice colder, gosh if I could reach out and warm him up from the inside out...hugs don't erase trauma.

"T..tom ..you stopped writing I thought " my tears chocked me, women that don't get letters from their soldier lovers they are the ones dressed in black ,waiting like a ghost . "I'm sorry..I didn't know what to say" he blurted out, the medals on his pinned straight uniform filled me with a bitter sweet pride, I slowly reach my hand to touch his chest but like a frightened injured horse he steps back ,"I'm sorry" I say upset with myself, "no..I.. It's fine I am just tired" he says quietly. I wipe my tear stained cheeks "polly said you'd return, she saw it in a dream" I master up a smile, I shouldn't cry, my tommy has returned. "Ah yes, she always knows, polly always knows" he replies a hint of sadness in his voice,in his eyes ,ice blue and sleepy.

I try to reach out my arm again but drop it in hesitation, the soldiers embracing their young lovers in beautiful lacy dressess and bows in their hair made the distance tommy was now feeling even more prevelant. He watches as i withdraw my arms from him, the distance growing between us by the second, as he knows damn well he is the reason for it.

"You must be starving my poor tommy" I look him up and down ,his form strong yet lean ,he hated when I looked at him in pity but how else do you look at a war hero? "Yeah. I'm starving."He says, his voice still lacking all warmth as he picks up his luggage.

Thomas's jaw clenches as we pass by the neighbors who stare and whisper. He could feel their judgment and pity in the way they looked at him, like he was a broken man. It made bile rise in his throat. He quickens his pace, his arm tightening in a fist, needing to get inside as quickly as possible, away from everyone who would notice, notice a bitter truth, tommy shelby never returned .

"What's wrong tommy" i say foolishly, how can I say that to a soldier returning from the worst war of the turn of the century, how can i even ask that,I felt stupid as he walked straight to our kitchen to grab a whiskey. "I made pie!" I say suddenly, "it's really good, ada helped me with it".

Thomas looks down at me, his jaw clenching again as his eyes harden at my foolishly innocent question. The weight of the war, the things he had seen and done, the horrors he had endured...it all threatened to break him "It's nothing." He said through gritted teeth, trying to bite back the anger and bitterness that simmered just below the surface. One he will carry for the rest of his life.

"Don’t look at me like that.." Tommy mumbled as I sat across from him. "I don't know how to look at anyone anymore. Some of my friends are windows now and..some have husbands that..they don't talk anymore or do anything. I am just ...I am happy you are home..thomas" . Tommy felt a lump form in his throat. He had heard stories of men coming home without a sound and never speaking again. His hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly at the thought of becoming one of those men “I’m here..I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”Tommy forced himself to say. He didn’t know if it was a promise he could keep but for her sake, he had to try.

"Eat up my love you are so skinny, what do they even feed you there" I say ,He took a moment before letting out a soft sigh. “MREs...they are rations. Not the most delicious things in the world..I’m more fortunate than many of the other men. It’s easier for the officers, we get extra food and whiskey. The other men were always grateful for whatever I would share with them, it’s hell living on rations alone.” I listen intently , I could almost feel the narrow tunnels and the taste of the food as he spoke, those medals on his chest meant nothing but pain and nights of coldness .

I watch as he pours his whiskey, I walk over to him, he was like a dream, a dream come true ,all the nights I spent crying and suddenly my tommy here again somewhere I am sure he is. "I bought a new dress ,it has cherries on it.." i try to hold on in to the conversation as I put food on the table, pies and fruit and meat and milk but tommy won't have a bite as he rubs a cigarette between his lips. "You are not eating my love" I say sadly, "no." He answers coldly and looks away. I lift my hand to touch him again but decide against it as he walks past me to the kitchen and grabs another whiskey, I feel my heart sink "d..do you still want to see my dress.."

Thomas pours himself a healthy amount of whiskey into a glass and brings it up to his lips, taking a large gulp and letting the burn down his throat. He closes his eyes for a moment before turning back to look at me. His shoulders tense as he slowly looks me up and down, his gaze lingering on my body for a moment before returning back to my face"Yeah, I do." He responds, his voice low and gravelly.

Thomas takes another swig of whiskey as he watches me fight back my tears. His heart clenches at the sight, but he ignores it, pushing down the feelings of guilt and shame that he has pushed me away. He was different now..broken, cold, a shell of the man he used to be...and he knew it scared me. "Go on then. Go and put it on." He says bluntly, his expression still stoic.

I let out a shaky breath. He was my husband after all,I was to obey him I walk to my room and put on the short lacy dress that barely covers my mid tights and pushes up my breasts ,I put my hair down in curles as I walk out, the cherry print and the lace giving me an almost innocent hue. "I should have worn this on our honey moon but..you went to war so fast..and i-"

Thomas' heart skips a beat as soon as he sees me walking out of the room, the dress just as short ...even more than he imagined. He downs the rest of his whiskey in one gulp before slowly walking up to me, his eyes slowly roaming over my body, taking in every inch of me in that dress.

"Yeah, I should have done a lot of things during our honeymoon.." He says under his breath as he gently reaches out and places his hands on my hips "You married me and then you almost turned me in to a widow" I say almost as an accusation. Thomas' eyes darkened at my words as his grip on my hips tightened slightly. He knew it was true, he had married me and then left for war, leaving me here without him, wondering every day if he was alive or dead.

"Don't. Don't say that." He says in a gruff tone as he looks down at me, his expression hardening. He gently pushes my body against the wall behind us. his hands still on my thighs as he leans in closer, his face only inches away from me.

"What do you want me to say then hmm? That I'm sorry? That I shouldn't have left? That I regret going to war?" His voice is still low, but there is an edge to it now. "Say that you only thought of me..that you only saw me". Thomas lets out a sharp breath as my words hit him hard. Of course, he thought of of this every single day, every touch, every word.

"I did. I thought of you all the time." He says in a firm tone, his eyes never leaving mine. his hands still on my thighs, slowly moving up and down.

Thomas who was a gentle tender lover never lost his tender touch but now a new edge has appeared ,his grip a bit too tight, his need a bit too strong. Every touch, every kiss, every caress is filled with a mix of desire and fear, as if he's afraid that once it's over, it'll slip through his fingers again. He worships every inch of my body like it's the last time he'll ever have me in his arms, making sure i knows how much he's missed me, how much he needs me,in this moment now, hungry, intense.

I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and neck ,slowly caressing it gently, kissing his ear and cheek "you are safe now my poor tommy, no more war, no more France, I'll protect you I promise,nobody will hurt you again" I say in his ear, yes it was a ridiculous premise ,me protecting the soldier and the gangster and the boss. "No more france" he replies gently sinking in to me further. He closed his eyes and let himself relax in the embrace. He reached up and grabbed my arms that were wrapped around his shoulders. “You might have to hold me like this the rest of our lives then love…” he says silently.

"Don't go anywhere tommy ,stay here with me, don't go" I beg, knowing it's impossible, tommy returned with ambitions ,the cold hard truth ,the man I hold on to is a ghost. This wasn't my tommy, this was thomas shelby. And his ambitions were everything now. He died and reborn like a great fire bird. Risen from the ashes ,nobody returned from the war ,not even my tommy. He died and now he wants everything everything, the way he touches me ,the way he looks at me, I know I know he won't stay long before he'll go to the world chasing the power,the money, the control, he was underground already and this man had nothing to lose.

Tommy could hear the pleading tone in my voice as i begged him not to go anywhere. His heart ached. He wanted to promise, he would remain with here forever..but he knew that it would be a false promise. We both knew his ambitions and what he wanted to accomplish. He knew he would have to leave ,sooner than later "Love i-"

[scribz-ag24]

I've recently seen again a post talking about the Sableye and Dusknoir's relationship so i'd like to put my two cents in the discussion, for I love screaming into the void about PMD. (this isnt meant to discourage any other interpretations btw this is just my take on theirs and Dusknoir's relationship, bc I think they're very fun characters and I am very glad the game actually gives these minions a bit of relevance in se5).

Tbh I don't buy that Dusknoir treats the Sableye nicely, at least not out of kindness. I don't think he's a tyrant or inexplicably mean, of course, and I think his minions ADORE him, but i also believe that doesn't mean he's nice to them, sth that i consider meaningful for their character arcs.

Throughout the entire game he's exclusively giving them orders, in se5 he concocts a plan that involves thrashing them MULTIPLE times (he's lucky Grovyle isn't one to try and kill enemies in battle ig), and the cherry on top is that the first time we see him being fully genuine he does this:

(yes, he is in turmoil in here, but there's not a single thing implying that 1. this is an unusual response towards the sablye, 2. dusknoir feels bad for it at some point or is surprised at himself, 3. this has any impact in the sableye at all. You can argue these reactions happen off screen and we don't see them, they don't happen bc they have pressing matters to attend to or they happen after they return to life, and that's perfectly valid, but i'm sticking with what the game shows us, here.)

I must say, though, the fact that the Sableye, despite having been almost mindless pokémon up to now, STAND UP TO AND ATTACK Primal Dialga for their boss and even try to look after him despite him ordering them to check on Grovyle and Celebi first is SO important to me. they are goons to the bone and they love that scheming ghost so much.

My own view is that Dusknoir is generally polite to them (you wouldn't randomly break your own revolver or weapon without any reason, would you?), but is quicker to get mean with them than with people he doesn't know or he is seeking to manipulate. He doesn't care about their behaviour as long as they get the job done, which is why I think the anime thing of the Sableye climbing onto his shoulder isn't that remarkable, rather it's a very cute moment, one that is showing how they've been working together for long and how their size difference affects their interactions, but it is not necessarily conveying an affectionate bond (this is a bit random, but it reminds me of Disney's Jafar with Iago lmao. throw your pet sableye at your enemies so they mock them and then return to your shoulder). Additionally, Dusknoir letting the Sableye onto his shoulder is probably as close as we are gonna get to a villain turning around in his chair while petting a cat in PMD lol.

[this isn't meant to be a one-to-one comparison, it's just a detail i find cute and shows that this gesture can have multiple interpretations, with none being the only right one]

Leaving that aside, I hesitate to claim Dusknoir trusts his Sableye as allies, as Grovyle makes a point in the main story of how the Sableye (your Sableye, he says, as if objectifying them; not friends, but tools, weapons at Dusknoir's disposal) are lacking compared to the way hero/partner/grovyle support one another (power of friendship and hidden information babyyyy). The Sableye are used to Dusknoir's way of doing things, though, I'm sure. They know what happens when he's displeased, after all.

I think, most of all, the Sableye are meant to look disposable: they are 6 identical pokémon that almost act like a hivemind, and we are not supposed to think at all about how we may hurt them in battle any more than we do with the angry Manectric pack or random dungeon pokémon. This, I believe, is why the game has them stand up against Dialga and gives them unique dialogue at the end of se5. They're meant to show their inner shine, just as Dusknoir managed to do. They suddenly gain an individuality they had never shown while they were working to maintain the dark future.

Where they abandoned Dusknoir in the Old Ruins, now Grovyle has motivated them to look for their dignity and fight for a better world, and that starts with protecting their leader from Primal Dialga's rampage, and supporting his new objective and allies in their quest to save the future. In their own small way, they've also grown as characters throughout SE5.

I believe that, overall, Dusknoir saw the Sableye as tools, but thanks to their growth and clear care for him, there's a possibility he might start to see them (and by extension other pokémon) in a more genuine, less pragmatic / objectifying way in the future. Now that Dusknoir has the chance to live a fulfilling life, he may learn to care for others without surrounding himself by so many walls. If anything, I think their future is quite bright. Not that the Sableye would mind if he still thrashed them around, though lol, they're clearly not bothered much by it (special episode 0 had a great depiction of the sableye imo, you can check that romhack if you haven't yet).

In conclusion, look at these little guys who adore their can-get-mean-but-is-mostly-polite boss and probably have a body count but now are good, they're so cute:

[celestialbruise]

PIDW time travel fic where after dying Shen Jiu wakes up in the past, after the ling xi caves and his subsequent qi deviation, with a chance to change his fate. Bingge also wakes up in his fourteen year old body, memories fully intact. Now, instead of actually changing their ways Bingjiu just try to kill each other in increasingly violent, hilarious ways

[dundeelemonade]

baby fighttttttt

[shiniestcrow]

I kinda have lost all motivation for drawing digitally... I don't really know why. Objectively, it's easier to make stuff look decent but it's, at least at the moment, not fun anymore. So. Paper it is lol

[spaceratprodigy]

yeah yeah always talking abt roseway and fallbrook arcs. we never talk about the fucking rage that comes out of her when dropping in byzantium btw

[prlssprfctn]

Kinda obsessed with headcanon, where Damian and Jason just randomly (out of nowhere, completely unprompted) start to referring to their shared past in the League in the middle of the family conversations, while everyone just stare at them in concern

Like

Jason, staring at Dick, trying to put Tim's shoulder back: huh, do you remember that one time-

Damian, instantly: when grandfather's shoulder relocated by itself, but instead of properly putting in on its place, he killed himself and mother threw him in the Lazarus Pit?

Jason, cackling: it was hilarious

Damian, no less amused: right?

Bruce, sitting behind them: (concerned sips of tea)

Or, it is not necessarily funny, but it just cute (or sad) details, regarding each other that others are confused about.

Jason, who accidentally fell asleep in the Batcave: (instinctively cards through his hair as he naps)

Tim, teasing: ladies and gentlemen, the criminal lord of the year--

Damian: Drake, bluntly, that's not funny. Back when he was out of the Pit, this was the only thing that could help him to calm down.

Dick, knowing that this is because Bruce constantly stroked Robin!Jason's hair, when he saw nightmares, with eyes full of tears: oh

Jason on the random Friday night, trying to be less awkward about staying with Bruce in one room: actually, Damian's first word was my name

Bruce: really?

Jason: he had, uh, problems with saying his first word. People around him were constantly speaking on both language at the same time, and, I guess, he couldn't figure out what to say. Then, Ra's said that if his heir doesn't get his word in the next two weeks, he will throw him in the Lazarus Pit (as a joke), but I wasn't sure if it was a joke (Talia said later it was), and I panicked, and since Talia wasn't around, I just kept repeating him her name, or just word Mother, but he just, uh, wouldn't say anything - kept blinking and staring at me like a little idiot. And then on a random night, he just grabbed me by the hair, and said, Jason. Food. And he kinda spoke properly since then. Like in full sentences and stuff. I think he just didn't want to speak with us, actually--

Bruce, getting grey hair out of nowhere: RA'S SAID WHAT--

And sometimes they just speak in Arabic, and Damian keeps bullying Jason that his skills are getting rustier.

[ancientnapdragon]

Disciple Shen Yuan during the Qing generation. SY is on Qing Jing and is loved and well liked by (most) of his peers, even the ones off-peak! He only has two problems: 1: Him and Shen Jiu are at each other's throats constantly. It's like worse than a rivalry. People are convinced they legit want to kill each other. While expected from SJ, people are always surprised it's equally instigated and fought by SY. He's normally one of the sweetest people on his whole Peak!

2: SY, even while trying his hardest from his FIRST puberty to stop it, has a TERRIBLE ugly duckling phase. Poor kid has ALL the problems a teenager would feel embarrassed about except like tenfold. He got beat with the ugly stick till it broke. This is something that SJ picks at constantly, too, to try and make him self conscious. (SY is more upset that SJ doesn't even have breakouts, that prick.)

The Ascension of the current gen of Peak Lords is coming up in a few years and their Shizun is trying to pick a successor. It's between SJ and SY. SJ proves his tactical mind and engineers a plot to ensure that SY will be off Peak for at least five years; that way he won't be an obstacle! His plan works and SY has to leave the mountain to chase some maguffin. SJ is made SQQ and everything is peachy keen! He won! Fuck you, SY, you ugly cunt! The five-ish years pass. SY comes back. SJ is there to greet him and subtly mock him. Except. When SY flies in on his sword.

He's hot.

SY is like the hottest man that SJ has ever seen in his life and CQM is FILLED with unnaturally attractive men. SY looks better than a damn succubus. If SJ had less decorum and control he thinks he would explode right where he stood just by looking at him. SY's face, his lips, how his robes cling to his body, even the sloppy tousle of his hair. SJ instantly knows two things:

1: SJ has GOT to get this man under him like ASAP. From the looks of some of the people around him (other Peak Lords, Disciples, rubbernecking strangers) they are all having the exact same thought. That CAN NOT be allowed to happen.

2: SY, from the look he gives to SJ and how he's somehow rude about being polite to him, still absolutely fucking hates him. Which is- SJ doesn't wanna think too deeply about why that makes SY hotter to him for some reason. Some stones are better left unturned.

When Luo Binghe comes to the Sect, SJ is too busy fighting off rival suitors, trying to court SY, and (most importantly) trying to get SY to even LIKE him to start with. So LBH never gets the shitty Shizun experience.

TY for coming to my TED talk.

[prisonhannibal]

the loumand relationship was actually crazy I can’t believe it lasted for 77 years. like imagine dating a guy who’s clearly not over his ex to the point that he hallucinates him when the two of you are on dates and even in bed with you and he says no when asked if you’re companions and you don’t really have compatible lives because you are a coven leader and he doesn’t really gaf about all that or the theater AND he has a daughter/sister but you don’t wanna be a step parent and told her she should die. then you massively fuck him over and try to get him killed bc you don’t trust that the relationship will last, but he survives (because of his ex) so you apologize and he tells you he will never forgive you, and then you guys meet up with the previously mentioned ex (who is also your ex, allegedly) who calls you a gremlin and your boyfriend rubs it in his face that he’s gonna stay with you forever just to hurt his feelings. right in front of you. and you literally got his daughter/sister killed so there’s that elephant in the room forever. then you stay together for twenty more years while you lie to him the entire time about what happened in paris and he fucks and kills 100+ guys and you’re clearly mad about it but won’t tell him. you get into the worst argument ever where you’re both horrible to each other and intentionally bring up each others worst traumas to hurt each other and he reveals that he finds you boring and that spending twelve hours talking to some guy he just met about his ex was more interesting than being in a relationship with you for decades. so obviously you hold the guy hostage and psychologically torture him and then wipe both of their memories. then presumably the relationship continues in the same deranged fashion for fifty years, where you do stuff like build shelves he can’t even reach because you can fly and he can’t, but at least you got an ipad to play on in bed when the two of you are lying half a meter apart in bed. then he decides to bring back the same guy from 50 years ago to do another interview and you listen to him talking lovingly about your (allegedly) mutual ex and how good the sex was for hourssss. and somehow your solution to all of this is to make the marriage work by constantly lying, manipulating him, deleting memories from his brain and spinning a whole web of lies that you had to keep going for more than seventy years just so he wouldn’t leave you for the ex. WHY ARE THE TWO OF YOU TOGETHER! why do you want to make this relationship last!! can’t even go to couples therapy because this is a whole new type of fucked that they don’t even teach in therapy school

[lady-luckk]

love twisted into madness

# pairings: yandere concubine harem x reader

# synopsis: you’re the unwilling ruler of a country with obsessive concubines who are trying to kill each other.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession, possessiveness, drugging, and murder. if you are uncomfortable please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: this is a rewrite of my previous yandere concubine harem from my old blog, @screeching-bunny. reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

they called you mad. insane, even. but you didn’t care. insanity was a refuge, a safe place in a world so deeply fractured. you hated your life with a burning passion, a disgust for the bloodline that bound you to a throne you never asked for. the family that birthed you, each one more power-hungry than the last, seemed like a curse. if given the chance, you would’ve chosen to be born to a pauper, far away from the twisted games of royalty.

but fate had no mercy.

once, you were nothing more than an afterthought, a shadow, the last person anyone would have expected to rule. the line to the throne stretched out ahead of you, and you were nowhere near it. but then the scheming mothers and the poisoning, the subtle betrayals and the bloody coups… one by one, your half-siblings, your full siblings—gone, each one murdered to clear the path. and just like that, the unwanted heir became the sole ruler.

you remember the day the crown was placed upon your head like it was yesterday. the moment the weight of it settled on your skull, the vultures swarmed. smiling, whispering, each noble hoping for a taste of your favor. you despised them all. they were like flies, buzzing around you, pretending to admire you while secretly planning to feast on your downfall. even your closest childhood friends, the ones you had trusted without question, turned on you. you couldn’t believe your eyes when your best friend, the one who had sworn loyalty to you, kneeled at your feet and asked for your love. then came another. and another. the shameless petitions for courtship were endless, their hunger unbearable.

love? what even was that? you had never known it. your mother had been slaughtered when you were young, and your father had always been a distant, cold figure. the only love you had ever felt was the strange, suffocating devotion of those who wanted to possess you, to claim you as their prize. people were a nuisance to you, nothing more than obstacles in your path. you’d long ago retreated into your own mind, where no one could hurt you, where the expectations of others didn’t matter. but that world, your sanctuary, was slipping away, one manipulative touch at a time.

when you turned twenty, your father, ever the schemer, presented your first concubine—a princess from a neighboring country. she was clingy, obsessive, a tiny spark in a world of insanity. she watched your every move, her eyes glued to you like a hawk, and whenever your gaze shifted, a storm brewed in her. her jealousy simmered beneath the surface, and with each new concubine, it grew worse.

your harem was a battlefield of madness, a twisted circus of egos and power plays. each day, one of your concubines would try to outdo the others—some showing off their skills, others pushing for attention in the most devious ways. the jealousy was sickening, feeding into a cycle of betrayal, lies, and violence. assassination attempts weren’t a rare occurrence; they were an expectation. each poisoned drink, each knife in the dark, was just another step in a game you never wanted to play.

you couldn’t escape them, not even for a moment. the madness of your harem was unrelenting. you could feel their eyes on you constantly, watching, waiting for their chance. every night was a war for your affection, a contest to see who would be the most adored, the most loved. the prize? a night in your bed. and as the days passed, their obsession grew darker, their need more desperate.

"your majesty, you’re the sun to my dark sky," they would whisper, their voices sickly sweet, desperate. "let me be your first spouse, your most cherished."

the words were the same, day after day, night after night. the promises of eternal loyalty, of adoration, of power. and you, trapped in a world where affection was a commodity, were left with no choice but to indulge them. it was a game, a power play that you didn’t want to be a part of, but you were the one they wanted. you were the crown, the prize, and they would destroy anything or anyone who stood between them and that title.

your chambers were no sanctuary. every time you entered, you could feel the undercurrent of madness. a concubine would always be there, waiting for you, dressed in provocative clothing, eyes filled with a strange hunger. they would make their move, their voices trembling with longing.

"please, your majesty," they would beg, their breath hot against your skin. "i need you. won’t you be mine tonight?"

but there was something more terrifying in their eyes, something darker. their love wasn’t just love—it was obsession. an obsession that twisted them, made them forget what was real, and pushed them to do things that were unspeakable. it was suffocating, it was frightening, and worst of all—it never stopped.

your harem was a breeding ground for monsters. not just the scheming foxes and the conniving lotuses, but the crazed, broken individuals who had lost all sense of reason. they would cry for your attention, manipulate your emotions, and twist their reality to get you to notice them. and the worst part? they knew how to play the game better than you ever could. each tear was a weapon, each sob a carefully crafted plea for power.

but you were not without your own tricks. you learned the game quickly—how to play with them, how to break their spirits before they could break yours. and every time one of them would try to manipulate you, you would feign sympathy, guiding them to your chambers, watching as they thought they’d won. but you knew the truth: they were all pawns, each one playing into your hands without realizing it.

as you led the newest concubine to your bed, her eyes glistening with hope and love, you could feel the fury of the others behind you. a smirk tugged at your lips as you heard their thoughts burning through the air.

"i’m going to make her regret this… i’ll make her suffer."

and so, the madness continued. each day, each night, a new battle, a new war for control. and you, the unwilling queen, stood at the center of it all, watching the chaos unfold with a cold, detached smile.

as the days bled into one another, your mind began to fracture under the weight of it all. the constant flurry of false affection, the endless manipulation, the dark undercurrents of obsession—everything blurred into a maddening fog. you had learned to expect the chaos, to accept that your life was one long, twisted game. but even now, they still found ways to surprise you.

you awoke every morning to the oppressive sound of whispers, the shuffle of feet, the flutter of silk against marble floors. your concubines, the ones you had chosen to stay, would surround you like shadowy figures, each one vying for attention, for a moment of your time, of your affection. and though you had learned to tune them out, to shut down the noise, it was a constant bombardment, a storm that never relented.

one evening, as you prepared for your nightly routine—slipping into the silk robes that once felt like a symbol of power but now merely served as another prison—you felt something new, something unsettling. the air was thick with a strange tension, an undercurrent of unspoken rivalry that seemed to be growing. at first, you tried to ignore it. another day, another ridiculous attempt to win your favor. but tonight, there was something different.

a new concubine, a girl so fresh and untouched by the games, had been added to your harem just days ago. she was beautiful, yes, but there was something off about her. her eyes—too calculating, too sharp—gave away more than she intended. at first, you had brushed it off as naivety, the innocence of someone still unfamiliar with the madness that consumed this place. but now, something in her gaze told you that she wasn’t as ignorant as the others.

you had given her a chance, of course. you always did, to see how they would behave, how far they would go to earn your favor. and tonight, she was ready to make her move.

you had just finished dressing, your fingers brushing against the cold metal of your crown, a crown that now felt more like a curse than a symbol of power. you turned to find her standing at the entrance of your chambers, her posture immaculate, her hands folded demurely in front of her. the soft glow of candlelight danced across her delicate features, casting shadows that seemed to distort her expression.

"your majesty," she whispered, her voice sweet but with an undertone of something far darker. "i need to speak with you. it’s important."

there was a brief flicker of something in her eyes—a glimmer of certainty, a challenge, perhaps. your gaze narrowed, but you motioned for her to come closer. the others were watching from the shadows, as they always did, but this time, you didn’t care. you were tired of the games, tired of pretending that this wasn’t the reality you had to face every day.

she stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor, each step deliberate, calculated. when she reached you, she knelt—something you hadn’t expected. most of them, even after all these years, still tried to assert their superiority, to play the role of the dutiful concubine. but not her. she was different.

"your majesty," she began, her eyes never leaving yours, "i would die for you. but i have a question."

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but gave no response. you knew that any movement could give her more power, more ground to stand on, so you remained still, letting her feel the weight of your silence. it was a game you had perfected long ago—let them speak, let them reveal their desires, their fears. and then, you would tear them apart with a single word.

"what would you do," she asked, her voice trembling now, just slightly, "if i told you that the one who truly controls you… is me?"

the words hit you like a thunderclap. at first, you thought it was a joke, some petty game she was playing to test her limits, to see how far she could push. but the look in her eyes was dead serious. she wasn’t playing. she wasn’t afraid of you. she was looking right into the abyss, daring you to blink. then it hit you. you had consumed an aphrodisiac.

you took a step forward, your pulse quickening. the room seemed to close in on you, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls. you could hear the others shifting outside, the sound of their breathing rising in the stillness of the night. your body felt like it was on fire. but you didn’t care.

this wasn’t about them. this wasn’t about the power struggles that had consumed your life for so long. this was about her. this was about the fact that she had just declared war without even realizing it.

for the first time in years, you felt a stir of something in your chest. it wasn’t love—god, no. but it was something else. something darker. something that recognized the challenge for what it was.

you leaned down, your lips brushing her ear as you whispered, "try me."

her breath hitched, but she held her ground. she was daring you. she was throwing down the gauntlet, expecting you to crumble, to prove her right. but you wouldn’t. no. you had been molded by this life of manipulation, betrayal, and blood. you had been raised on a diet of lies, and now, you were the one who made them.

as you pulled away, you locked eyes with her, a wicked smile curving your lips. "you think you control me?" you said softly, letting the words sink in. "you’re just another pawn in this game. and if you think for one second you can win… well, let’s see how long you last."

she stiffened at the threat, but she didn’t back down. there was something maddeningly beautiful about her defiance. and that, you realized, was the problem. she wasn’t like the others. she was the spark that could set everything ablaze.

and yet, there was a part of you that admired it. she was a mirror to your madness, a reflection of your own broken mind. she wasn’t afraid to burn everything down, to turn the world upside down.

but what she didn’t understand was that the game wasn’t just about power. it was about survival. and in this palace, there could only be one survivor.

you guided her to your bedchamber, her hand trembling with excitement slightly in yours. but as you crossed the threshold, the game began. you could hear the others following you, footsteps growing louder, the silent battle already starting. you could feel the fury and the desire building, the relentless drive to claim what was yours.

as you turned to face her, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, you realized one thing: this would be the last time you let someone else think they had control. you would own this game, and anyone who thought they could take that from you would be burned in the flames of their own ambition.

you were the king of this madness. and in the end, they would all bow to you, or they would burn.

among the many concubines, there was one who stood out—not for his looks or his talents, but for his unnerving obsession with you. zhang wei, a general’s son from a distant province, had initially seemed like just another handsome face vying for your favor. but over time, something darker began to reveal itself beneath his polished exterior. he didn’t chase you like the others, with desperate displays of affection or teary eyes. no, his devotion was quiet, almost suffocating in its intensity.

zhang wei would watch you from the corners of rooms, his gaze never wavering, never blinking. he’d smile when you spoke to him, but it wasn’t a smile born of genuine warmth—it was something colder, something more dangerous. his words were always careful, calculated, as if he were speaking to a deity, not a mere mortal. every conversation felt like a subtle attempt to claim you, his eyes gleaming with an obsession that went far beyond admiration. and the longer you ignored him, the more intense that obsession became.

one evening, long after the others had retreated to their chambers, zhang wei stayed behind, his posture stiff with a quiet desperation that made your skin crawl. he approached you slowly, eyes wide, almost reverent, but the hunger beneath the surface was unmistakable. when he spoke, his voice shook with a mixture of longing and madness.

"your majesty," he said, his words nearly a whisper, as though confessing a secret. "i have waited so long, watched from the shadows, and now… i cannot stand it any longer. i would do anything for you, my love. let me be your first husband. i will prove my loyalty, my devotion. i would die for you."

his voice wavered with desperation, as though his very survival depended on your acceptance. it wasn’t love, not in the way most would understand. it was a twisted devotion, a need to possess you, to claim you as his, to make you his entire world.

the more you rejected him, the deeper his obsession grew. zhang wei followed you everywhere—his eyes constantly on you, his voice whispering in the hallways. it didn’t matter what you did to distance yourself; he was there, waiting, always lingering just out of sight. every time you turned a corner, you could feel his presence, his eyes on your back, never faltering.

"your majesty," he would say, his voice soft but urgent, "you are everything to me. no one else matters. no one but you."

his devotion was not a simple desire to be loved—it was a suffocating obsession, one that threatened to swallow you whole. you could insult him, ignore him, even tell him to leave, but it never mattered. zhang wei would still look at you with those maddeningly adoring eyes, his love unshaken, unwavering.

the others in your harem noticed, of course. they saw the way zhang wei hovered near you, his possessive gaze never leaving your side, and they whispered in corners. his presence was unsettling to them, but they knew better than to challenge him directly. his obsession had become so profound that he no longer sought your affection. he sought only to be near you, to breathe the same air, to be the one closest to you, even if you never returned his feelings.

he was no longer a mere concubine. zhang wei was something far worse. he was a predator, driven by a singular, dangerous desire: to make you his, at any cost. and no matter how much you pushed him away, no matter how many times you rejected his advances, you could feel his grip tightening, his obsession growing darker with each passing day. there was no escaping zhang wei. and the thought of what he might do next—should you finally push him too far—left a cold, unsettling shiver running down your spine.

zhang wei’s obsession with you went beyond his twisted devotion to you. as his fixation deepened, so too did his sense of entitlement. he began to view every other concubine not as rivals, but as obstacles standing in the way of what he believed was rightfully his: your undivided attention, your affection, your love. he didn’t just want you; he needed to eliminate anyone who dared to take even a fraction of what he desired.

it started subtly at first. zhang wei would approach his rivals with a false politeness, his smile sharp, his words dripping with honeyed charm. he would compliment them, flatter them, even offer gifts—tokens of his ‘respect.’ but there was always something in his eyes, something dark lurking beneath that calm exterior, that made every exchange feel like a thinly veiled threat. the others, blissfully unaware at first, accepted his advances, thinking they could win his favor with kindness. they didn’t know that with each word, each token of ‘affection,’ zhang wei was marking them as targets in his twisted game.

one of the first to fall was mei-ling, a young princess known for her beauty and her melodic voice. zhang wei, in one of his more insidious moments, invited her to his private quarters under the guise of a ‘friendly conversation.’ he made her feel special, important—like she was the only one who truly mattered in his world. he listened to her sing, praised her endlessly, and made her believe that she was the one he desired above all else. but when she least expected it, he cornered her, locking the door behind them. his tone shifted, became harsh, and he told her that she would never win his or your favor.

"you’re just a pretty face, mei-ling. but that's all you’ll ever be." his grip tightened on her wrist as he whispered, "if you ever think you could take my place, you’re mistaken."

the next day, mei-ling fell ill—deathly ill. the court physicians couldn’t find any explanation, and her voice, once so sweet and full of life, was silenced forever. it was a slow, agonizing process. by the time anyone realized what had happened, it was far too late. zhang wei’s smile remained ever-present as he continued to express sorrow for her passing, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. mei-ling had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

but the elimination of mei-ling was only the beginning.

lian was next, a fiery and bold concubine who had dared to openly challenge zhang wei's claim on your attention. lian had never been one to back down, and unlike the others, she didn’t fear confrontation. but that was precisely what made her dangerous to him. one evening, in the middle of a gathering, zhang wei calmly approached her, his eyes betraying nothing of his inner rage.

"don’t you understand, lian?" he asked, voice low but full of an unnerving calm. "do you really think you can win our majesty’s affection? you’re nothing more than a distraction to them, a fleeting thing. i’m the one who will stand beside him. i’m the one who will be at their side forever."

lian, always quick with a sharp tongue, didn’t back down. she laughed, dismissing him as a fool. that night, zhang wei followed her back to her chambers, knowing she would be alone. what happened there was a mystery—no one truly knew what transpired behind those doors, but when lian was found the next morning, her throat had been slit cleanly. the bloodstains on her sheets painted a chilling picture. her body had been posed, her eyes wide with fear, and the note beside her read: “you were never meant to win.”

the harem grew uneasy, whispers spreading like wildfire. but none of them dared speak openly of what they suspected. zhang wei had become a silent terror, a looming presence that only tightened his grip the more you pushed him away. his love for you had mutated into something sickening—no longer about desire, but about possession. he wasn’t just fighting for your affection; he was fighting to destroy anyone who stood between him and his claim over you.

your harem had become a twisted reflection of the palace itself—a gilded cage, beautiful and suffocating, where the concubines were both trophies and pawns. each one of them, whether driven by love, ambition, or survival, wore a mask of devotion, but beneath it, desperation simmered. there were the ones who had learned to play the game—silent, calculating, waiting for their moment to strike or be struck down. the others were the broken ones, their eyes hollow from endless manipulation, their spirits crushed beneath the weight of constant competition and violence. in this toxic arena, loyalty was a currency that could be bought and sold, but trust was a concept that had long since been abandoned.

every whisper, every glance, every touch was laced with suspicion and jealousy. some sought power, others affection, but all were bound by the same ruthless need to survive. and then there were those who, like zhang wei, had descended into madness, their love twisted into obsession, their hearts warped by a desire to control, to own. none of them were truly free, not in this place, not while you, the center of their world, remained unreachable, a god they could never fully possess. the harem, a symbol of wealth and power, had become their prison, and each day was a fight for dominance, a battle where only the strongest would remain.

[wiishopwednesday]

longing for something you can never return to

[ID: a collection of images relating to nostalgia. the first image is a genius screenshot of the lyrics to car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)." the screenshot reads "We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back." the second image is the "we got the torture labyrinth tomorrow" meme template, edited to instead say "We got missing what we can never return to tomorrow/What?/We got the beginning of the rest of our lives tomorrow/Ohhhh/Okay." the third image is a discord screenshot, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and reads "Duuudeee you missed out on those 7 days where god created earth you are fucked LOL." the fourth image is a screenshot of a piece of text, which reads in bolder font "You can never leave home." underneath it, in normal text, it reads "You take it with you no matter where you go. Home is between your teeth, under your fingernails, in the hair follicles, in your smile, in the ride of your hips, in the passage of your breasts." the fifth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user ryebreadgf, which reads "YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN BITE AND SCRATCH AND BEG BUT YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK!" the sixth image is a screenshot of a piece of text that reads, "YOU KILL YOURSELF AND IMMEDIATELY WAKE UP AS A CHILD ON YOUR PARENTS BED. YOU'VE BEEN ASLEEP FOR HALF AN HOUR. THE SUN IS SHINING." the seventh image is a picture of two uneven dark yellow boxed next to each other on a off-white background. the first box reads, in handwriting, "I'm terrified of change." the second box reads, "I'm terrified of staying this way forever." the eighth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user dakotajohnsongf, which reads "women be looking at pictures of their childhood selves and trying to find a way back to them." the ninth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user bestofgentleearth, containing a screenshot from a forum of some kind. a line of text reads "(16 hours ago) butterfly said:" underneath, an indented section of text reads "today, the world looked beautiful again. i'm starting to remember what kept me alive last summer." the tenth image is another tumblr post by user cursedsuggestion, which reads "the friend you miss comes home for good. you never see another mirror. it's summer forever and that terrible thought you keep having finally disappears." the eleventh image is a screenshot of a reddit post, with the original poster's username and icon cropped out so only the text is visible. it reads "I'm not sure how to word this, but I constantly go through this deep sense of loss. I feel like I terribly miss something I love from the bottom of my heart, but I don't know what it is, exactly. Nothing in life satisfies me, nothing makes me content, but l wouldn't say I'm depressed either. There's just this endless search for something, and at times I feel I can catch a glimpse of it - different sceneries pop into my head at times, like of a particular beach at night, and I'm moved to tears. Or I remember a dream and all the feelings that were stirring while I saw that dream, and feel entirely connected to them." the twelfth image is a screenshot of a tumblr post, but the original poster is cropped out so only the text is visible, which reads "wait i wasn't ready. i never finished that game of tag. i still need to learn how to do a cartwheel. my friends and i never finished making that bridge over the creek. i want to go back. can you carry me to bed one last time? and maybe i'll wake up tomorrow in my childhood room with my pink walls and we'll laugh over this dream at breakfast." the thirteenth image is another tumblr screenshot of a post by user heavensghost, which reads "uhhh yh sure u can go back but no one will be waiting for you there."

the fourteenth image is a screenshot of a reddit comment, with the user's information cropped out so that only the text is visible, which reads "HIRAETH (heer-eye-th) 'A deep homesickness; an intense form of longing or nostalgia for a place long gone, or even an unaccountable homesickness for a place you have never visited. A pull on the heart that conveys a distinct feeling of missing something irretrievably lost.'" the fifteenth image is a collection of 3 rows of black boxes, with 3 boxes in each row. the first box has a white, vague form of a human. the second box pictures the human form stretching its arms and legs out. from the third box onward, the human figure starts to dissipate into white dots until it has completely disappeared and only dots remain. the sixteenth image is a tumblr post by user n1ntendos, which reads "I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST I CANNOT GO BACK TO !!!!!!! anyways." the seventeenth image is a screenshot of text that reads "I cling to everything - CDs that skip, rings that turn my fingers green, the dead ends of my hair, old love notes that turn my stomach over and over. And I'm not proud but there are still boxes under my bed. And I'm not proud but my closet is still running out of space. And nostalgia is a fucking waste of time but my heart is full with it. Tell me I won't hold this forever. Tell me there will be a day where I let gloriously go." the eighteenth image is an image of larger text that reads "It's a summer day, and I want to be wanted more than anything else in the world." the nineteenth image is a photograph of a large white dog standing in a dark, flowing river surrounded by a dark forest and green trees. the dog is facing away from the viewer with its mouth open. the dog appears to be glowing, likely due to a lens flare of some kind. the entire picture feels very melancholy and nostalgic. the twentieth image is larger text that reads "Nostalgia is the aching realization that you can't go back again. The longing, no matter how intense, can never be met." the twenty-first image is a screenshot of an instagram dm, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and it reads "well the time passes anyway so I have to." the twenty-second image is a screenshot of the spotify lyrics for gerard way's song "action cat." the lyrics read "Hey/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you too." the twenty-third image is a screenshot of text that reads "YOUR CHILDHOOD DOG IS ALIVE. YOUR DEAD BEST FRIEND WANTS TO GET COFFEE. YOU HAVE BEEN KIND AND GOOD. THERE IS NOTHING CHASING YOU. YOU CAN SLEEP. WHAT DO YOU DO?" the twenty-fourth image is a continuation of the lyrics from car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)" that were pictured in the first image. these lyrics read "We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/(Don't spend too much time on it)." end ID.]

[pboogerswbb]

EARNED IT

Paige Bueckers x reader

In which reader wants a pair of shoes but instead of just buying them, Paige makes reader earn them, each orgasm bringing her $200 closer - loosely based on a request @d3arapril got and passed onto me (ty girl ily)

Warnings: SMUT (slight CNC, use of a dildo, overstim, P being a little sadistic), lowkey filthiest thing i've written so beware

Wordcount: 4.9K

A/N: SURPRISE! enjoy this little pre-game treat while I work on the prologue for So It Goes ;)

-

It had been a long day. Work had been killing you and frankly, you missed your girlfriend who had been training tirelessly in the past weeks. It was as if the only times you saw each other were when she was about to leave, coming into your bedroom and kissing you goodbye for the day, or the couple hours after she got home when you ate dinner together and went to bed. 

It was all okay, you understood the stakes, you always knew what it entailed to date the famous Paige Bueckers. That basketball was her life, that it meant a lot of lonely nights, sometimes for weeks during the season. But it was all worth it, because when she was there, you were the most spoiled, pampered girl in the world.

You could hear the shower turn off as you sat on the couch of your apartment, looking for something to spoil yourself with on your phone - you had received a bonus earlier today and thought you deserved something nice to celebrate. So naturally, almost out of habit, your finger was scrolling on the Louboutin homepage, admiring your dream shoes - the shiny leather and bright red sole of the shoe drawing you eye in. Maybe if you saved a little more, you could finally get them.

“You’d look so fine in those,” you’re interrupted by Paige, leaning over your shoulder to see what you were up to. When you turn around you find her shower fresh, wet hair still dripping and a robe tied loosely on her body. She smelled so delicious and clean you just wanted to bask in her. To throw yourself on her and have her hold you for days on end.

Paige kisses the top of your head from behind as she leans down and wraps two arms around you. Heaven is the only way to describe how that felt after days of missing her.

“Well gimme a couple months and I’ll save up,” you chuckle, tilting your head back to look at her. She smiles but scoffs a little at your words.

“I gotchu,” she laughs and yanks the phone out of your hands much too quickly for your reflexes.

“No!!” you yelp, jumping off the couch in a white top and underwear, following her around your apartment, feeble attempts to try and steal back the phone as she dodges you with ease, a smug grin on her face.

“‘S not even that much, relax,” Paige pushes your hands away gently, plopping herself down on the armchair in your living room that the blonde had reclaimed as “hers”. 

“Got that NIL money, can buy my girl whatever she wants,” she brags, leaning back in the robe that’s not doing much to cover her legs up. The sliver of white boxers on her muscular thighs electrify you, and the confident expression on her face doesn’t help when you feel the familiar ache fluttering between your thighs.

“It’s 800 dollars Paige,” you point out, sitting yourself on the blonde’s thigh, like you had so many times before. It was something about this chair that made her want to have you on her constantly. Perhaps it was the way you two fit in it just right, the way you felt small in her arms. Nevertheless, you had spent hours in this chair scrolling Tiktok, sharing a tub of ice cream, reading books or just talking after a long day.

Paige holds you bridal style, your bare legs sprawled across her lap. Her fingertips draw patterns up and down on your thighs, sending goosebumps everywhere. You loved these moments, they almost made up the fact that she was gone most days.

“That’s nothing baby, don’ worry,” Paige murmurs, already putting her card details in. 

“I’m serious P!” you groan, grabbing your phone finally from the blonde’s hands. Truth be told, you felt a little bad. Paige was always showering you with gifts, trips on your birthday, hell she had even convinced she should pay for your groceries since she was over all the time and ate most of them. She paid for every date, for gas, drove you around whenever she could. She spoiled the hell out of you and you let her. You knew she loved to do it. But still, something about it made you feel bad. To have your girl do so much for you without giving anything in return.

“I wanna earn it! I just got a bonus and if I save up some more I can get them,” you explain, the bewildered look on Paige’s face finally softening. A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth as her blue eyes roam over your face, flickering to your lips. Her fingertips sneak further up your leg as her tongue licks over her pink bottom lip. All that was enough for you to know Paige had something dirty on her mind.

“Oh yeah? You wanna earn it?” she asks menacingly. With a confused look you nod, not quite sure what she meant.

Instead of explaining, she’s pulling you in by the back of your head, kissing you feverishly. The tension grows quickly, each kiss more passionate than the last. She wants you bad. Your hands entangle in her wet hair as you wrap your arms around the blonde. The fresh scent of shampoo, mango and guava, fills your nostrils. Paige moves her hand to your inner thighs, squeezing and caressing the soft skin, making a wet spot grow on your underwear embarrassingly quickly. 

She pulls her lips away with a struggle, attempting to catch her breath. You wince, already missing her mouth. 

“You wanna play a lil game with me baby?” She asks, hooded eyes blinking quickly as she refocuses on your face.

“What game?” Your voice is shaky from how much the ache between your legs had grown.

Paige sits up a little, clearing her throat. “Well, you said you wanna earn it,” she starts, walking her fingers up your thigh slowly. “and I really wanna touch you baby,” she adds. “How about each time you cum for me you get 200 dollars?”

The blush that sets on your cheeks is immediate, making your face red and hot. At first you want to shake your head, immediately turn it down. It felt so wrong. But then Paige’s fingertips inch closer to your core, and you can’t help but consider. She really wants to get you off after all. And if there was one thing about Paige, once she started she didn’t know how to stop.

The blue eyes roam your face, looking for a reaction. With a huff, Paige leans in and kisses on your earlobe. “Been away so much lately, need my girl,” she hums into your ear, chills taking over your body. That’s enough to do it.

“Okay,” you whimper, Paige grinning against your skin.

“Yeah? You not gon’ tap out?” She says with that arrogant lilt in her voice as your gazes meet.

“No.” 

Your tone is much more confident than you are.

“Bet.”

With that Paige’s fingertips press into your clothed core, dragging along your clit as you moan, your head already lulling back.

“You already this wet?” The blonde chuckles irritatingly, but you’re too desperate for her to do anything about it.

“Been missing you,” you whimper as her fingers rub in a circle, her lips returning to your ear as they suck on your earlobe, pulling on it with her teeth.

“Fuck I know baby, haven’t been giving you enough attention huh?” She coos, hot breath on your neck. You nod, agreeing with her, growing wetter, needier for something she wasn’t giving you yet. “Lemme make it up for you,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against your neck. “Stand up.”

You do as she says as if in some sort of trance, willing to bend every which way for her. Paige looks up at you, spreading her legs further and reaching for your panties. With a swift movement she pulls them down, leaving you only in the tight white tank top in front of her. 

She pats her thigh, flexing the muscle there, inviting you to sit. It’s so tempting you don’t hesitate even for a moment when you straddle it. A gasp leaves your mouth when your wet cunt meets her soft, warm skin. She hisses, feeling your slick on her, licking her lips.

“Oh shit,” you whimper, Paige’s hands moving to your ass, kneading hungrily. You could already feel a fire in your abdomen, making you lightheaded. 

“C’mon,” the blonde urges you to move, her hands beginning to grind your hips back and forth. The way her thigh drags along your clit is making you see stars. Paige’s eyes are locked on the way you’re grinding on her, her cheeks turning red as she lets out loud exhales and hisses at the way your pussy feels on her skin. 

Grabbing onto her shoulders, you fasten the pace, needy for more. 

“That feels so- oh fuck baby,” you moan, feeling Paige flex her thigh underneath you, providing just the correct angle and pressure for you. Your legs are already shaking as her hands guide you, hips moving back and forth.

“Shit,” Paige whimpers as if she’s the one getting off. Leaning forward she begins to kiss your neck, sucking enough to leave a mark and a sting but it only spurs you on. Grabbing the hem of your top, she lifts it just enough to reveal your tits, eyes locked on the way they move with your body as you grind faster.

“Look so fucking good,” she murmurs almost to herself, one hand kneading your ass, the other your breast. “C’mon, you gonna get off on my thigh?” 

You nod desperately, hair falling all over your face as the coil inside you tightens, the pressure on your clit bordering on overwhelming. Your movements were turning sloppy as your orgasm approached you, desperately grinding your hips. To help you Paige’s hands return to your ass, assisting with the movements. 

“Fuck Paige, fuck,” you gasp, the burn in your core so intense it made your eyes roll back. A loud smack is followed with a sharp pain as Paige slaps your ass harshly, spurring you on.

“C’mon baby,” she groans, leaning forward to kiss your chest feverishly. As her warm tongue begins to circle your nipple, you can feel yourself starting to spill over. Hands gripping onto her shoulders, she flexes her muscles one more time, your clit rubbing desperately on her thigh as you come. 

“Oh-” you’re gasping, face scrunched up in pleasure as Paige’s hands guide your hips, soft lips sucking on your nipple to make the pleasure even more intense. Waves of pleasure wash over you as your cunt clenches around nothing, slick spilling out of you.

“That never gets old,” Paige moans as you try to catch your breath, your movements coming to a halt as the blonde keeps kissing along your neck and jaw. Your body already feels tired, worn out. But the night was just beginning.

“That’s 200 bucks for you ma,” she grins, finding your lips in a needy kiss. “You should know tho, you riding my thigh is worth a lot more,” Paige murmurs against your mouth. “Fuck, would pay millions to see that shit.”

Her words make you whimper into her mouth, giving her the opportunity to slide her tongue inside, meeting yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Grabbing your thighs, Paige stands up from the chair and lifts you with ease, her robe falling open as she walks you to the couch. Placing you on the soft cushions, she watches you with hooded eyes.

“Wait here,” she murmurs before disappearing into your bedroom. When she returns, her robe is hanging off her shoulders loosely, chests and abs completely exposed. In her large hands she’s holding a purple, 7 inch dildo. A gift from the blonde but left unused because of how busy she had been.

You could still feel your core throbbing from your last orgasm, but the heat was quick to grow again when you see Paige holding it with a grin. As you lie on your back, waiting for her to touch you, Paige walks to the opposite end of the couch, leaning back and spreading her legs. 

“C’mere,” she says hoarsely, her fingers curling to invite you closer. Excited, you crawl to her. Paige’s impatient hands grab you and pull you onto her lap until you’re straddling her.

“You wanna put on a show for me?” She asks. Her head is tilted back as she watches you, the blue of her eyes completely blown out.

“Yes,” you whimper and gasp when her hand smacks your ass again, sharp pain following but making your pussy more soaked if possible.

“Such a slut huh?” She asks, making you only needier. Paige looks down between her thighs, holding the toy there in her hand, the plastic pressing against your stomach.

“Ride this shit,” she says, and you can tell it’s not a suggestion with the way she’s looking at you, her jaw suddenly sharper, eyes even darker. Your legs still feel shaky, but the urge to be filled up by her is so overwhelming you can’t help but lift your hips.

The tip of the toy presses against your folds, the blonde sliding it to your entrance teasingly. Your slick is already dripping down its length as you lower yourself on the tip, Paige’s hand on your hip guiding you.

A loud gasp escapes your mouth as Paige pulls you down on the length, making you take all of it. The stretch is too much, overwhelming you quickly, making your eyes roll back. However, Paige’s grounding hand grabs your jaw firmly, bringing your eyes to hers.

“Earn it ma,” she commands, leaning back and holding the toy steady with both hands. You knew exactly what she wanted.

With slow movements you begin to move up and down on the toy, letting it fill you up all the way. It feels so good it’s almost painful, and you can’t help but moan loud when it hits somewhere deep inside you you didn’t even know existed.

“Oh god,” you moan, eyes shutting in ecstasy. Paige is leaning back, watching you with hooded eyes and mouth slightly parted, moaning with you like she’s the one getting fucked.

“You’re so hot,” she groans, licking her lips. “Play with those tits for me.”

Without thinking your hands grab onto your chest, kneading as you pick up the pace, now bouncing on the toy that Paige is holding. The blonde can’t take it anymore, hand snaking around you to grab your ass hard. 

“Paige-” you gasp as she smacks your ass again, hard enough to leave marks to remind you of tonight for the days to come.

“That’s it ma, love it when you ride my shit,” she whimpers, her voice hoarse and deep. Watching you is getting Paige so wet she thinks she might come untouched, watching you bounce on the toy - what might as well be her cock. 

She can’t help it anymore, purely the way you look is getting her close enough to come. Her veiny hand moves off your ass, dragging down her stomach into her boxers where she’s met with her soaked cunt already throbbing. 

“Ah shit,” she moans as her fingers slip inside her, filling her up while you ride the toy for her. 

“C’mon, faster,” Paige commands. Whimpering and writhing, you maneuver from your knees to your feet, squatting on the toy now. Gripping Paige’s muscular shoulders for dear life, you begin to bounce on the toy, your tits in the blonde’s face.

“Such a good girl for me, shit,” she moans, her fingers pumping in and out of herself. She’s struggling not to come before you, her head lulling back and eyes nearly shutting. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, the burn in your thighs becoming overwhelming as you ride her, your pussy clenching around the length inside you. Leaning backwards to give Paige an even better view, you reach back to hold her thighs for support, making sure she sees all the inches disappearing inside you, stretching you out.

“Fuck baby you making a mess on my cock huh?” Paige whimpers, trying to sound together but there’s a whine in her voice that’s telling you she’s trying not to roll off the edge.

“Feels so good,” you gasp, the new angle letting the tip of the toy hit the spongy part inside you, making fire spread all over your abdomen. You’re dripping around the toy now, probably all over the couch, but neither of you seem to care.

“You like how my cock feels inside you?” Paige asks, voice breathy.

Nodding desperately, you allow your head to lull back, the squelching sounds coming out of both of you echoing around the living room. “Love riding your cock baby.”

“Aw sh- please tell me you’re close ma,” Paige cries out, her cunt throbbing around her fingers as she watches you.

“N-need to cum,” you mewl, tears filling your eyes.

“Shit- that’s right baby, earn it for me,” Paige rambles, her voice getting whinier as your pussy squeezes the toy tight, your movements on it turning rampant as you chase your high.

“Such a good girl for me, gonna make me cum,” the blonde continues, forcing her eyes to stay open as she spills over the edge so she can watch you come on her cock. All of a sudden intense pleasure takes over you, and your moans turn high pitched and desperate as you release all over the toy, the stretch making your legs shake.

“Aw fuck you look so fucking good, yeah ride that shit,” Paige moans loud as she comes with you. Plenty of high pitched cusses spill from her pink lips but you barely hear her, too focused on the ecstasy running through you. Once the feeling passes you crash onto the blonde underneath you, whole body shaking from the strain.

“That’s it baby,” Paige praises, sliding her fingers out of her cunt and carefully bringing them to your lips. They’re glistening in the light, covered in her slick. Eyes still closed and head resting on the blonde’s chest, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around them, tasting her. You wrap your lips around her fingers and suck on them as Paige pulls the toy out of you, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness behind.

“No more,” you whisper once the blonde’s fingers return to her side. She chuckles, brushing the hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead. 

“C’mon now that’s only 400 bucks,” she laughs but you shake your head. 

“It’s ok, I can save the rest,” you complain, your body sore and tired and way too sensitive to be touched.

“Well I’m not done with you yet ma,” Paige whispers. “So you might as well earn a lil sum.”

With that Paige is pushing you to your back, the robe finally falling off her body leaving her exposed, nipples hard and goosebumps covering her milky skin. Her hands grip your thighs spreading them wide and without warning, she leans down and begins to slowly drag her tongue along your cunt, taking her time.

You’re already squirming, two hands on her head ready to push her off. The two orgasms had left you sensitive and worn out. You’re not sure if you could do more. But Paige seemed to have decided for you.

She grabs your wrists, pulling them to your side against the couch. “Keep ‘em there,” she orders as she begins to lick against your puffy, swollen clit, humming contently as your body begins squirms. 

“‘S too much,” you cry out but she shakes her head, moaning into your pussy. 

“No it’s not, you can take it,” she assures, arms wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer, to hold you down. She’s lapping you up now, desperately trying to taste every inch of you. Her warm tongue swirls in your folds, moaning at your taste. If there was something Paige Bueckers loves it’s eating pussy. “Doin’ so good for me,” she praises.

The sensation is enough to make your legs tremble desperately, your third orgasm quickly building up. Every muscle in your body ached, and all touches and flicks on your clit felt heightened, making your eyes well up. You were a mess, back arching, hands grabbing the couch, the soft pillows thrown all over the floor now. Every part of you was writhing except your hips that Paige was holding down and still for her sake. She was eating you like she had never tasted you before, as if she had been starving for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, grabbing onto her blonde locks still wet from the shower. As you yank Paige moans, watching you from underneath her long dark eyelashes. She’s watching for every reaction, blue eyes filled with lust and locked onto every movement, every expression. She can’t look away.

Paige lays her tongue flat against your puffy clit and shakes her head from one side to the other, your cunt beginning to throb immediately. 

“Just like that, shit baby,” you moan, pulling onto the blonde hair. Paige pulls back, buried so deep in your folds she’s gasping for air as she comes up. Her gaze moves from your face to your pussy, a mixture of her spit and your slick dripping out of you onto the couch.

“Aw fuck I can see this pussy throbbing,” Paige gasps and immediately dives back in, the strain in her jaw quickly forgotten by the sight of you. Suddenly she spits onto your folds and urgently leans back in to lap it all up. It was so hot, so dirty that the sight was enough for your muscles to begin to twitch a third time around this evening.

“Oh fuck, Paige-”

“Right there?” She asks, staring up at you from between your thighs, her fingertips digging into the skin of your hips. Her tongue lies flat against your swollen clit, circling against it making all the muscles in your body tremble desperately.

“Yes, yes yes yes yes!” You gasp, real tears spilling from your eyes. You’re teetering right on the edge, only needing permission now from the blonde between your thighs.

“Fuuuuckk ma, cum on my face, please,” she moans, fastening her movements and gripping you harder, her eyes rolling back when you yank on her hair hard. “Please,” Paige cries out, clearly desperate, needing to make you come.

“I’m coming, oh fuck-” you cry out, your whole back arching upwards but Paige’s hand presses you down as her tongue keeps working you, drinking up all of it as you crash over the edge. The sounds coming out of you are muffled from how hard the climax hits you, seeing stars as Paige keeps lapping you up.

“Okay okay okay stop,” you whine pulling her hair, the sensation becoming too much too quickly as you come down. But Paige only grabs your wrists tightly in one of her large hands, pinning them together and holding them against your stomach.

“I’m not fucking done,” Paige says directly into your pussy, not slowing down for a second. You try everything, squirming, pulling your hands free, but it was useless. She was way too strong, and clearly wanted you way too much to give in to your whining.

“Paige please,” you cry, eyes welling up again as the tip of her tongue moves back and forth at an accelerating speed.

“You’re not done till I say so,” Paige commands and from the tone of her voice you know - there’s no fighting if she had decided to have you.

“‘S too much.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Suddenly Paige has you flipped over, pressed against the soft armrest of the couch. Her strong hand quickly wraps around your hair and yanks on it, pulling your back flush against her exposed front.

“You want those shoes huh?” She asks with her lips pressed against your ear, a slight sadistic tone in your voice.

“Yes,” you answer weakly.

“Gotta earn it,” Paige says, kissing your neck before pushing you down by your hair till you’re bent over the armrest, ass high up in the air. Paige’s hands grip onto your ass and spread you wide open before you feel her tongue lick against your folds once, twice, until she dives and begins to lap you up even more hungry than before. 

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, completely forgetting about the thin walls and the poor neighbours next door. Nothing in this moment mattered except you, Paige and her plump lips sucking on your clit, still holding you wide open for her.

“Fucking love this pussy,” Paige groans, lips and mouth working hard, getting covered in a mixture of your mess and her spit. It’s simultaneously too much and so fucking hot, the way she’s eating you from behind, the way her nose is pressing against your entrance, rubbing against it teasingly.

Suddenly your pussy is throbbing around nothing, and it’s like the blonde can tell because next thing you know you feel a sudden stretch inside you. The toy from earlier suddenly pounds into you, making you gasp.

“Ohhhhhh shit P-” you can’t even form full sentences, the sudden sensation and the speed which Paige is fucking the dildo in and out of you with making you let out a cry louder than before.

“Ohh fuck ma, perfect pussy I swear,” Paige groans, pulling herself back to fuck the toy into you with more force, watching the way you’re getting stretched out. 

“‘S too big,” you cry, reaching back to push the blonde’s hands away. She grabs your wrists, holding both in one hand with ease and pinning them against your back.

“Don’t push me away,” she asserts, somehow finding a new angle as you crash flat against the armrest, making you take it even deeper. You could swear she’s in your guts now, and the loud squelching sounds your soaked cunt is making is only making your mind spin more.

Your whole body’s shaking as your front presses against the soft cushions of the couch, Paige pinning you down by your wrists as she keeps fucking into you. Your juices are everywhere, on the couch, on Paige’s face and hands, gushing out of you around the toy. 

“You gonna cum on this cock?” Paige asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. 

“Mmph-” you moan, face buried into the armrest. The blonde lets go of your wrists and smacks your ass, gripping it tight to fuck the toy even deeper, impossibly so.

“Answer me baby,” she groans, increasing her speed, the tip hitting the right spot each time to make you clench and throb so hard you could barely think.

“Yes yes yes ‘m gonna come fuck,” you cry, grabbing the cushions of the couch desperately.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me just to get some shoes?” Paige sadistically says, kneading your ass. The wet sounds are becoming louder, your mess dripping everywhere.

“Yes Paige, please please please!” 

“Perfect girl, perfect fucking pussy huh? Letting me fuck your shit up just like this?” 

“Yes, please P-”

“Cum for me.”

She’s killing your shit, toy pounding into your guts. The stretch is so intense your eyes roll back involuntarily, and a loud whimper leaves your body as your pussy clenches around the toy, finally releasing and letting your climax wash over.

Paige is talking you through it, you’re pretty sure. But you can’t hear over your own moans, over the sounds coming from your body, over the way you felt like you might black out. Every muscle in your body is on fire, fingers gripping anything they could find. Next thing you’re being carried into your bedroom, Paige laying you down gently on your back and climbing next to you.

Finally your eyes flutter open as the blonde pulls you into her chest.

“What happened?” you murmur, and Paige chuckles.

“Just made you cum a lil too hard I think,” she laughs and kisses your forehead. Her hands are playing with the ends of your hair, stroking your arms and back, grounding you.

“Did so good for me,” the blonde coos, kissing your lips softly. You could still taste yourself on her. “You okay?”

You nod. All your muscles ache and the strain had made you exhausted, but that definitely made up for all the time Paige had spent away from you in the past weeks.

“That was hot,” you admit, which makes the blonde let out a loving giggle.

“Not you saying that, hottest thing we ever did I swear,” Paige praises, pressing kisses on top of your head again. “Let me go run you a bath baby.”

But as she moves you wrap your arms tighter around her waist, pulling her closer with all the strength you had left. 

“A little longer,” you whisper against her sticky skin. Paige couldn’t dream of leaving you alone, not like this, not when you sound like that - all of it makes her bend to your every whim, she couldn’t help it.

“Okay, a little longer,” she repeats. 

“And you’re ordering those shoes now,” you command, a slight shake to your voice from the prior activities.

“Deal.”

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @lovegalor333 @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @jadasogay @paigesbabygirl

[cryptidghostgirl]

The Love (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Warnings: I don't think there are any but correct me if I'm wrong.

Word Count: 1,323

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Y'all, I'm lowkey dying from the requests. I'm sorry for the last five or so taking so long, I just need a little break and mix in some of my own ideas if that is okay.

Alastor was drinking at the bar with Husk, Charlie, and Angel. The day had been a lot, seeing Mimzy was always a lot. Yes she was trouble, but Alastor loved her. He loved her for the same reason he was trying to drink himself stupid at the bar. He loved her because she reminded him of Y/n. Mimzy had been her friend first, after all.

He sat off to the side in his own little world while Angel and Charlie chatted and Husk obediently poured the drinks. Normally, Husk would have joined the pair in the mindless, mundane chatter but after the events of the day, Alastor's presence kept him silent.

"No way!" Charlie exclaimed.

She and Angel were talking about some TV show they both watched or another. A mind numbingly boring background noise but, Alastor wasn't complaining.

"Yes! They are one hundred percent perfect for each other." Angel replied animatedly.

"Literally how. Name one thing that shows they have good chemistry."

"Uh, they’re constantly at each other's throats? If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't know what love is."

Husk let out a short, sharp laugh as he topped off Angel's drink.

"Oh yeah? Well then, Princess, what do you think love is."

Charlie sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter as a dreamy look spread across her face.

"Love is... love is when you would do anything for the person. It's when they're your guiding star, your... your prayers answered."

"Uh, no? Love is when you want to literally kill the person but like, in a good way."

"Angel, what does that even mean." Charlie laughed.

"It means... it means there is passion. That spark everyone always talks about? It's violence."

"Hey Al!" Charlie suddenly called, leaning back in her seat to peer at Alastor behind Angel's back, "Who's right, me or Angel?"

Alastor looked up from his glass.

"I hate to say it, but neither of you are correct." he sighed in irritation at having been disturbed, "Love is neither a constant fight nor a blind devotion, though it contains aspects of both."

"Like you know anything about love, mister fancy talk creepy voice." Angel scoffed, turning to face Alastor as well now.

"Actually, I do."

Charlie's face lit up. She practically vibrated with anticipation.

"Alastor! You've been in love!?"

Normally, on a night like this, he'd be alone. He'd be careful to be alone, or at least have Husk as his only company. When he told Husk to shut up and pour, he listened. Other people, not so much.

"Yes."

Charlie had stars in her eyes. She inched closer to him.

"Are you gonna spill?" Angel asked after a moment.

"It was a long time ago."

Alastor took a long sip from his glass.

"Do you... do you not remember it?" Charlie asked, her excited smile slipping slightly at the notion

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the long day, Lucifer, Mimzy, Husk. Those shark demons. Maybe it was just that secretly all along, he had wanted someone to talk to. He watched the liquor in his glass as he swirled it gently.

"It was a long time ago, but I still remember it." his smile softened as he spoke, "It's strange. I remember her laughter, her little quixotic tendencies. I remember the way her eyes would light up when she smiled and the way her perfume smelled. I know her favorite author, the way she took her coffee, the way she folded her clothes but, I can't seem to ever see her face anymore. I..."

He trailed off, taking a breath.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Charlie quickly said, not wanting to make Alastor uncomfortable.

Alastor shook his head.

"I've spent years not talking about her. Maybe... maybe something else would be nice."

"So, how'd you guys meet?" Charlie immediately asked.

Alastor looked up at her and let out a light chuckle. He felt like he was human again for a moment. It was odd.

"I don't know if you know this about me, but I was a radio broadcaster back when I was alive. A rather famous one at that, in New Orleans at any rate. Her family ran a restaurant near the studio that I went to get lunch at from time to time. She worked there as a server."

"And she loved you?" Angel asked, "Like, you weren't just delusional?"

"I was quite the lady's man back in my day."

"Uh-huh." Angel doubtfully replied, "Sure."

"Oh hush, Angel." Charlie shoved the spider demon slightly, "Tell us more! What was she like? Did you ever get together or were you just friends? Gah! I wanna know everything!"

"She was..." Alastor's gaze fell back to his glass, "you remind me of her in a way. She was so idealistic, so driven. So... bubbly. She worked hard and she cared deeply. I don't know how I swung her, despite my charms. We were friends for about a year. The whole time, I was trying to work up the courage to ask her out but she ended up being the one to ask me. We got married when we were in our mid twenties. I only had a few years with her as my wife before I died."

Unbidden ideas darkened the edges of his mind. Y/n had always been so good, so sweet. Alastor had no idea if she had ever learned of his... escapades. He figured she must know, considering the manner in which he died but it was a horrifying thought. He was grateful when Charlie spoke again, pulling his mind back to the present.

"Thats so cute!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands as she looked between Alastor and Angel, searching for similar excitement.

"Can we meet this alleged doll of yours?" Angel asked, "Cause I am really not believing any of this bullshit your spouting."

Charlie gasped, suddenly struck by inspiration.

"Do you think she would want to be redeemed?"

"Oh dear," Alastor shook his head, meeting Charlie's eyes, "she's not here."

"Then wh-"

"She's in heaven?" Angel exclaimed, "You married someone who ended up in heaven?"

"Either that or she's over a hundred years old and still on earth." Alastor weakly joked.

"I'm sorry."

Alastor shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

"No!" Charlie insisted, "You'll... you'll never get to see her again! That's so sad!"

"And here I thought you were trying to get us redeemed." Angel scoffed.

Charlie turned to him.

"I'm trying to get you redeemed cause you're a guest. Alastor isn't a guest."

"Right you are, my dear."

"But you could do that." Charlie said turning back to Alastor, "Angel's right, if you were a guest you could be redeemed. You could see her again!"

Alastor smiled kindly at the excited demon. He patted her back.

"I'm afraid I don't think that's an option."

"But why not!" Charlie insisted, "Anyone can be redeemed, Alastor."

"That's not the issue, my dear." he sighed, "I did some things on earth that she would most certainly view as... unfavorable shall we say? Things she most certainly learned of after my death."

"You're not even gonna give it a shot?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, come on Alastor. Let us help you. You never know how it could turn out!"

"It's alright. I have the time we spent together, the memories. I don't want to taint that." he slowly, unconsciously, raised a hand to his chest, his palm over his heart, "The love is still there, thats what matters."

The quartet fell silent as Husk poured Alastor another drink. Alastor sighed, grabbing the glass and examining it carefully, but not taking a sip.

"What was her name?" Charlie asked, her voice small and her smile long gone.

"Y/n."

It had been years since he'd said it out loud. His tongue relished every syllable.

"Her name was Y/n."