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lunarmango · 2 months

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Flickering Lights

Demon Alastor x Human reader fic? ON IT. I'm so siked to make this a series and I hope who reads this enjoys this as much as I do. I wanna get into writing. (I don't write, I draw) and I was thinking of making a longer fic, the details were so hard to piece together. I really enjoy the concept of demon Al with human reader. So here we go!

Word Count: 2k

TW: None for now? Pretty mild stuff haha.

Chapter One: Moving in

New Orleans, Louisiana

1946

Where wandering spirits were said to roam, walk and explore more frequently, being an area where people would find it easier to communicate with them, or so you were told. You were convinced it's utter nonsense to be completely honest. The whole notion of spirits was so far fetched you just couldn't bring yourself to even fathom them. Though not opposed to being proved wrong.

It's been years, saving for a house. Your apartment was small, cheap and far too crowded with furniture and items you just can't let go of. From a suffocating apartment to a house. You were practically buzzing from excitement. Like, literally almost shaking.

A new chapter in your life.

When you walked in, you suck air through your teeth in anticipation, the cool air hitting your teeth invigorating you, fingers fumbling with the old metallic keys that jingled in response, finally able to slot the correct one in the door and push open the dark wood hastily, the hinges swinging and the door practically flying.

You winced at the loud thud when it slammed on the white painted brick wall. Taking a few deep breaths, you decided it was best if you didn't wreck your new house on the first day. You think you would actually cry if you did, and you were not willing to test that theory. Checking the wall where the door hit with a small grimace of anticipation, you close the door behind you, relieved to see the wall is fine, your face relaxing again as you take yet another deep breath through your nose.

House tour!

Kicking off your shoes at the entrance, you begin wandering from room to room, you take in the spacious kitchen and living room. Though it lacked a certain homey touch. But you were aware why. There was no furniture after all. You had a vision for the house. Just had to wait 3 days before you could make it happen and the furniture would arrive. You had big plans, that did not pair well with your lack of patience. You already had multiple shitty sketches of how you roughly wanted each room to look. The furniture is all you need, it'll arrive soon enough. Hopefully.

You're going to need to find a way to pass the time.

First things first, you still haven't explored the upstairs! Running your hand gingerly along the wooden railing as you hop upstairs, the hard floor creaking occasionally under your feet every few steps, you take a sharp left and step into the master bedroom. It was massive. You feel a grin etch at your face as you peek your head inside. You're definitely getting a king sized bed. With a nod you left the room, confident you were going to be a pro napper at least a month within getting your new bed.

You open the door to the bathroom. Spacious enough, room for a decent sized tub and shower. Although you never really saw the point in baths if you wanted to get clean. You step out and look into the spare bedroom. Maybe a potential study? That or the attic. You always were sure that the environment can heavily affect the quality of ones work.

Was such a big house going to make you feel small? Possibly alone? You scoffed to yourself. Who cares when you have such a house?! Expensive too. Ho ho you were going to have fun "subtly" showing off this house to your friends.

With a quick, dismissive peek to the spare room you turn on your heels, going up the stairs to the attic with cautious steps, the worn wooden panels making such loud noises in retaliation to your steps that you were afraid that they would give in. Your hand gently opens the rattly metallic doorknob and open the door, squinting only to see a small switch on the side of the door. You flick it on and hear the buzz of a weak warm light turning on above you, fully illuminating the room the best the small warm light can.

First thoughts? Dusty. Very Dusty. Every box, book and the long desk and chair at the end of the room practically black and gray from the abundance of dust. A sigh escaping your lips, realising just how long you were going to be cleaning for, a task you were not mentally prepared for yet. Making your way to the desk, you approached a large wooden desk, most of the surface blocked by a large panel with knobs, switches, dials and little doodads that slide up and down. The sliding doodads having small, mini light bulbs at the top of each. You look at the corners and edges of the panel, looking for an on switch or something.

Nothing.

It was probably unplugged?

Nevertheless, as foreign as the panel seemed to you, a surge of determination drives through you to figure it out. It seemed expensive. Whoever used this probably cared deeply for it, the text of the brand faded, showing the love and use the panel had been provided with. If it was so well used, you had to figure out just why it was loved so much.

To begin, you had to figure out just what it is. Turning it on seemed like the obvious option.

Crouching under the table to look to where the cables lead, you notice a microphone on the floor. Wrapping your hand just above the flat base of the microphone, feeling the coolness of the metal and the sandy texture of the dust between your skin and the metal, you try to lift it. You were suprised to find your hand faltering slightly at the sheer weight of the microphone, dropping forward onto your knees to provide a better position to pick it up in, using both hands to stand up and set it in front of the panel with more ease. It wasn't that heavy. But you didn't want to drop it. Wasn't this supposed to have headphones...?

Once more, you go down on all fours, looking under the desk, when no sign of somewhere to turn on the panel or headphones appears, you circle round to the back of the desk, finding a wire and an unplugged plug. With a small huff that caused far too much dust to fly in the air, triggering a cough from you. Slotting the plug in the panel above you hums to life and flickers on once more. A small hushed yes emerges from you as you slowly stand up, brushing the dust from your knees, then your hands.

You walk back in front of the desk, flipping some random switches for the hell of it, satisfying metallic clicks and clanks as a result of your tampering. Then proceeding to tap the microphone, you blow on it to rid it of the pesky dust, stepping back to let the dust fall.

You took a moment to appreciate just how expensive this radio setup must have been, so big and complicated it made your mind whirl just trying to decipher what each control did. You brush away some more of the dust from the panel, running your finger between the buttons, trying to look for labels, or some sort of guidance, only to find them worn out, white writing so etched and scratched at on the metallic reddish-brown surface that it was unreadable. A soft smile tugging at your lips in realisation of just how loved this equipment really was.

You’ve seen the basics of what a radio setup should look like, without having to remember the separate into bitty details of the control. Panels, a microphone. Where were the headphones? You look below the desk, bending at an uncomfortable angle to the shelves situated under the left of the desk.

Nothing.

Not like you could broadcast anything even if you wanted to. Why do they use the headphones? To listen to the sound of their own voice? How proud and snobby must one be to love their voice that much? An audible scoff from you. You know you wouldn’t be able to put up with anyone of the sort.

Using both hands, stabilising the microphone properly, you pick it up, with a smart smirk, looking at the empty wall you begin speaking to your imaginary viewers, mocking the accent radio people had to use to the best of your ability. “Hello my dear viewers! Welcome back to my boring ass show, talking about shit that probably serves as background noise” A snicker escapes your lips as your smirks stretches wider in amusement, gently putting the microphone back down.

Eager to make your made up show more believable, you move away from the desk, eyes scanning the worn wooden panels of the floor. Remembering you looking earlier you let out a hefty sigh. Were you really going to spend hard earned money for a few minutes of make-believe mucking about like a child?

Oh definitely.

Lost in thought, still staring at the floor, chuckling in thought a distinct noise snaps you out of the haze of your mind.

Click

You look over your shoulder to the direction of the noise, the desk, trying to place the exact location.

Another click

It was from the panel? You turn back to the panel, looking down on the panel as the clicks increase in frequency, switches being flicked, dials turned. A particular pattern caught your eye being the fact that during the abundance of alterations to the controls of the panel, no knob or slide was altered twice, almost if it was altering itself the clicking now a steady rhythm. What a ridiculous idea, as clueless as you were about the technology you were almost certain it wasn’t that advanced.

The clicks slowly come to a stop, one last slider slowly going upwards to a certain line before it stops completely.

“Eager to hear my voice?” You mutter under your breath, a dial slowly turning, one of your eyebrows quirking up in response. Spirits and ghosts don’t exist.

There’s always a what if.

What if they do exist?

What if you’re the first to fully realise this?

What if you’re living a ghost story?

After all, things moving on their own in the dusty attic of an old house was never a good sign.

Yeah no who were you kidding.

But just to make sure.

You bend at the waist, your lips as inch away from the crosshatched metal of the top of the microphone.

“Can you hear me?” You say in a teasing low purr, holding back a laugh in your lungs, helping to alleviate the tension you��re beginning to feel rising up in you, pressing in on the sides of your head. Jokes always help. Well. Not always. However you can’t exactly help it either.

A flicker of the small light bulbs, emitting a warm light above the sliding controls. You couldn’t help but still be sceptical. Your voice now has a newfound edge, the whole situation making you uncomfortable.

“You- can?”

Another flicker from the same small light bulbs.

A nervous laugh rumbling from your chest.

You had to figure this out, because you wouldn’t put going insane past you. Maybe a break from the attic would be good. Probably buy some headphones. As unsettling as the panel is, having the set incomplete irks you unnecessarily, and it was an enigma you couldn’t help but feel determined to figure out.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor #radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #demon alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor

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lostinforestbound · 6 months

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Happy 100 followers! I can't believe there's 100 of you so interested in my silly little writings, I am so so grateful! As promised, here is a little fic of comforting Rolan! I wish we were able to hug him in game, but this will have to do!

Rolan/M!Tav

You're Not Alone, You Will See

Tav swears Rolan hasn't slept in their shared bed for weeks at this point, and he's getting very concerned for him. Why won't he sleep? He needs to find out or he'll collapse where he stands.

Word Count: 3.3k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Explicit, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Tav's POV, Mentions of Lorroakan

NSFW under cut, Minors DNI

Night has long been spread across the city of Baldur's Gate, where the world is now asleep. Silence carries along the perfect night; no wind rustles the trees or whistles along the windows, no banter of drunken patrons fighting in the streets, and the sky is clear, letting the stars bloom.

The world is asleep, all except for Tav and Rolan.

Bored out of his mind, Tav stares at the ceiling as the moonlight shines through the large windows of his and Rolan's shared bedroom. He can't sleep at all, because once again, Rolan is not in bed with him.

Rolan's side of the bed is very cold when he feels around it, the sheets and blanket are not ruffled by one hair. He didn't even sit on it today, which is already concerning in itself. He knows his lover has been busy, being the new master of Ramazith's tower, but what could he possibly be doing this late at night? What has his mind so consumed that he couldn't lay with his partner after a long day? He knows Rolan has been having difficulty sleeping as of late, but this is getting ridiculous.

So with a small huff, he sits up, bones popping quietly in his shoulders and back as he stretches. He’ll have to go find him in the depths of the tower, it seems.

Shuffling out of the bed, he finds his red robe to get into, not wanting to shiver in the cold air inside their home. The robe was a gift from Rolan, thrust into his hands by him after lecturing the hero about only walking around in his undergarments. The indecency, he cried! But Tav saw how flustered his face was during the berating, and he did his best not to laugh at Rolan's embarrassment.

A fonder memory of Rolan that makes him smile, even if the event was only a few weeks ago. He slides on the slippers Rolan gave him as well; they're high quality and incredibly soft. They came with the robe, Rolan saying the floors are dirty, and why in the hells is he walking around barefoot anyways?

Laughing lightly at the memory, he finds a short candle on the bedside table and lights it up; he doesn't want to walk anywhere too blindly. He exits the room, walking down the long hall as he thinks where Rolan could be. There is no reason to be too worried, but he is nonetheless. As much as they made this tower their home, including Cal and Lia who have their very own section in the tower, he has noticed Rolan being...closed off. Not on purpose, and not in front of him or his siblings, but there's something about the tower that makes his lover a bit uneasy, and he can guess the reason why. He sees the way his mood shifts when he thinks he's alone, staring in the general direction where Lorroakan used to reside.

It doesn’t take long to find him, in the middle of his study hunching over his desk. From what he can tell, he’s looking at a few papers along with a book; but he’s staring at it as if it’s a new language that needs years to decipher, a sense of absolute dread in his posture. There’s clear exhaustion on his features, dark circles under his eyes as he rubs at his temples as if that would get rid of his current headache.

This has been happening for weeks after Lorroakan’s death. Time and time again he’s reorganized tomes, cleaned the space, put in new furniture, and even got an entirely new bed for them both. It never seemed enough. He could never tell Tav why it wasn’t enough. He didn’t have the words to describe it.

But Tav does vividly remember waking in their bed, seeing Rolan's pillow torn into by his claws while the man slept. It quickly got replaced, but he refused to acknowledge and talk about it, so Tav left it alone.

Now here he is, slaving away to understand the same tome he was trying to decipher for three nights now, doing everything he can but actually sleep in his own bed.

As Tav slowly approaches, he wonders if he’s doing this to himself on purpose. Is there something haunting him? Why does he torture himself so?

He makes his steps louder to make sure Rolan is aware of his presence before putting his free hand on his shoulder. He feels his shoulders tense under the touch before relaxing, not protesting when a thumb lightly massages the base of his skull. “My love, is this book so important that you can’t join me in bed?” He asks, leaning in close by his left ear to examine the papers.

“It’s been three nights, and I can’t figure it out.” He murmurs, sounding more defeated than he’s ever heard. It makes Tav’s heart hurt, knowing that he’s struggling.

The papers strewn about confuse him as he takes in their contents; Rolan's notes make absolutely no sense. His writing is erratic and unfinished as if every thought was abandoned for a new one in rapid succession.

He puts the candle down on the desk and leans against his lover's back. “Maybe, just maybe, it’s because you’re tired?”

He huffs in annoyance, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

“Rolan, you haven’t been to bed in weeks. I’ve seen you sleep in odd places. The doorway, the desk, the floor…what’s going on with you?”

He sees the way Rolan bites his lip, golden eyes trailing the pages in front of him but not truly reading them. His lover opens his mouth as if to make an excuse, but nothing ever comes out. While he's distracted, Tav gently folds a blank piece of paper that he finds in the mess on the desk, tucking it on the page Rolan's currently on and shutting the tome.

“We don’t have to talk about it now, just come to bed.”

He starts to protest with a clenched jaw, almost insulted by it as if the book is more important. “But- This is-“

“Rolan, please? I miss holding you.” He whispers, kissing the back of his head.

He sighs heavily, exhaustion setting deep into his bones as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Fine.”

The scowl on his face softens as Tav pecks his cheek, encouraging him with a pull of his hand to stand up. He does so without a fuss, hand oddly tight around Tav's.

Tav sees Rolan wince at the echo of their footsteps, and part of the action disturbs him. He's never seen him shrink so much at a sound, and he wonders what is going on inside his head. For him, he picks up the pace a little, pretending he wants to go to bed badly.

He kisses the top of his hand before settling on top of their bed. Rolan looks as though he's about to make an excuse to not lie down, so he spreads his legs and speaks up, "Let me give you a massage."

"This time of- why?" Rolan questions incredulously.

"You're slouching. You might have some tension. Let me?"

After some reluctance, he settles between Tav's legs, and Tav begins to press his thumbs between his shoulder blades. The amount of knots he finds is almost amazing, and part of him wants to chastise Rolan for letting it get this bad, but now is not the time. For every knot, he carefully kneads the bundle until it's completely gone before moving to the next one. Sometimes Rolan's tail flicks in irritation, most likely at the temporary pain, before it falls limply when the knot fades.

He's unsure how much time passes since it's already deep into the night, but eventually, he makes it through all the knots he can. Rolan is relaxed back against his chest, and he sees the rise and fall of his own with his slow breathing. Without thinking, his hands slide to the front of his chest, feeling along the ridges that decorate it. Rolan's breath stutters under the caresses, the tip of his tail flicking back in forth as it slaps against the bedding. He smiles against the skin on the back of his neck, trailing his hands over the soft swell of his stomach and to his groin. He palms the growing erection, making Rolan inhale sharply, and he worries that he misread what Rolan wanted.

That was until Rolan grinds into his hand with a shuddering sigh, eyes half-lidded with a flush forming on his tired face. “Please,” He begs quietly, eyes weary.

How could he say no?

He looks so beautiful like this, even with the exhaustion on his features.

"Lay down," he whispers.

As Tav gets out of bed, Rolan complies by scooting down to lay against the pillows, getting comfortable. Confusion paints his features when Tav grabs an extra pillow and puts it under his hips, but the unspoken question dies on his tongue as Tav kisses him. Their lips easily glide together, and Tav takes his time removing his clothes during. Rolan just lets him do all the work. In all honesty, he looks too tired to do much. Based on the nervous look when he pulls away, it seems he's worried that it'll turn Tav off, but he gives him a reassuring smile as he shucks off his robe and undergarments.

Rolan obediently opens his mouth for Tav when he leans to kiss him again, letting his tongue slide in and tangle with his. He feels Rolan wrap his arms around his neck, keeping him as close as possible as Tav explores his mouth, running his tongue along the sharp teeth that adorn there. The first time they'd kissed like this, Tav cut the muscle on the teeth, and Rolan immediately pulled away when he tasted blood. He couldn't kiss him like that for a while and he idly wondered if Rolan would have not reacted the way he did if Tav was also a tiefling.

Enough of that, he's getting distracted.

Rolan spreads his legs as Tav grabs a vial of oil from the side of the bed, uncorking it with his teeth and pouring it onto two fingers. Rolan instinctively tenses when he feels a finger gently massaging his entrance, but never breaching. Circling it one, twice, three times. Tav always had to tease him a little bit, but he gently kisses his brow as he finally sinks into him by the first knuckle.

Pathetically, Rolan lets out a groan, quickly biting his lip afterward. They haven’t done this in weeks, but just from this, he can see he’s already half-hard. He probably didn’t even have time to get off recently, he was so focused on his work in the tower.

It only encourages Tav to make this even better.

His finger sinks in further to the second knuckle, searching for that little bundle of nerves inside of him. He knows he finds it when Rolan cries out, his tail wrapping around his arm tight. He grins, pushing in the second finger, and continues to press against his prostate. Tav swallows his moans with his mouth, scissoring him open and getting him ready. As much as he may want to torture Rolan a little by dragging it out, it’s been a while, and it’s not one of those nights.

Though, the fact that there's no witty banter this time around worries him. Rolan is the type to tease, provoke, and sass him even during the most vulnerable moments of intimacy. He has a few working theories of why he does it; the vulnerability can be uncomfortable sometimes, so he speaks to calm himself down. He could be genuinely having fun with him, the banter that they have relaxing him. Or the simplest of all, he could just be a very talkative person.

Rolan has barely spoken, and it scares him.

He takes it as slow as he can, slicking his cock and guilding it to Rolan's hole. Pressing his tip into his entrance, he goes inch by inch and quietly moans at the tightness of his twitching rim. He has to stop for a moment when Rolan clenches around him, vision blurring slightly at the heat of it all. Tieflings run pretty hot, and somehow he struggles to remember that; it surprises him every time, without fail.

"Gods you're so tight," he breathes out slowly, leaning down to kiss his chest. Nails grip his hair as he licks one of his nipples, lavishing the sensitive nub with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Rolan keens high in his throat, wrapping his legs around Tav's waist as he tries to spear himself more onto his cock. Tav does not let him, gripping his hips almost harshly and holding him in place. If he tries that again, this would all be over too soon.

Rolan gives him a weak glare before tilting his head back with a moan, Tav fully seating himself inside him. He tries to control his breathing, but it fails when Tav does a test roll; he knows he's hitting all the right places by the way his body spasms.

Tav stares down at him in a calm awe, grinding some more while he takes Rolan’s jaw in his free hand. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

He sees how Rolan's cock throbs at the praise, and how he can no longer make eye contact. Tav kisses him either way, albeit a little urgently as he finally starts thrusting into him.

Rolan's hair fans out over his pillow as his head tilts back further, and Tav strains his neck a bit to follow him. His face is debauched in ways Tav can never describe, and he is mesmerized by it. How can someone have such a perfect, flushed, fucked-out face? He can't help but hold his freckled face, needing a closer look.

"You're perfect, so good for me, my love." He whispers against his lips, wanting to see every little reaction he can pull from his lover.

Rolan's eyes get very teary, either from the words or the overwhelming pleasure he feels, he's not sure. His voice shudders as he glances away, unable to keep eye contact. "That's- hah- k-keep talking."

"You are the most amazing person I know. No one ever compares to you; not in looks, smarts, or ambition. I want to give you everything- fuck- you are my everything, and so much more. Gods, look at you..." He murmurs, softening his hold and cupping his face more tenderly. "I'm so thankful I'm the only one who gets to see you like this."

He didn’t expect Rolan to start crying.

At first, he’s instantly filled with dread, and his mind races to figure out what he did wrong. Did he say something he didn't like? Did he hurt him? Did this not feel good? Does he want to stop?

Before he could pull away and ask him, Rolan holds himself tight against him as he digs his heels into his lower back.

“Don’t stop, please don't stop, please please please-“ He sobs, nails raking across his shoulder blades and leaving angry red welts behind.

Instinctively, Tav cradles him close as he picks up the pace, letting him hide into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Rolan sinks his teeth into Tav’s shoulder in an attempt to quiet his moans and cries, the mix of emotions and pleasure almost stunning him. He’s a whimpering mess, the muscles of his abdomen clenching tight before he finally shouts out, his spend decorating the expanse of his and Tav's stomachs with his voice completely shattered.

"Rolan-" He groans out, hips faltering in their pace briefly before he buries himself deep inside him, filling him up to the brim.

It takes him almost too long to come back to himself, drenched in sweat and pressing his forehead into Rolan's collarbones. He mindlessly kisses his sternum as the pleasurable fog clears, running his hand soothingly along his lover's hip bone.

Tav carefully pulls out with a slight grimace, looking down at Rolan’s glazed eyes as he tries to catch his breath. He pecks his forehead, about to move away, but Rolan clings to him. He’s still sobbing and weakly tugging him closer. Obliging, Tav pulls him into his body, littering kissing across his face even as the tears keep coming. He doesn't comment on it, only whispering sweet nothings as he soothes him. He will most likely be embarrassed about it later, but for now, Rolan accepts the praises.

His grip tightens when Tav tries to get up again.

“I just want to clean you up. Is that okay?”

Rolan sniffs, reluctantly letting him go.

He makes his movements as quick as possible, snatching up a clean cloth and some water for him. With a quiet plea, and encourages Rolan to sit up and drink some of it, which he thankfully does as Tav gently wipes down their fluids off of them. They will have to clean the sheets in the morning, but for now, this will do just fine.

Soon they lay together once more, Rolan hiding in Tav’s neck as the tears finally dry. “…I’m tired.”

"I know. Sleep.”

"No, not like that. I'm...I'm really tired." He murmurs, almost inaudible.

Tav hums quietly in acknowledgment, nuzzling the side of his face. So depression decided to strike him recently, huh? That's okay, he will be here for him.

"I'm tired of feeling like a fool," he continues after a moment of silence.

"That tome has you this wrapped up?"

"The more I try to decipher, the more it becomes utterly jumbled. How am I supposed to be the master of the damn tower if I can't decipher a damn book, with a guide?"

"...This isn't just about the tome, is it?"

"Lorroakan could decipher an entire book within hours." He bitterly states.

There it is.

"Your nightmares are back." Tav says matter of factly, gaze softening, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"The contents of the nightmares were idiotic at best. I didn't- I thought-" He takes a quick breath before sighing it out. "They're ridiculous. I shouldn't be so affected by them."

"But you are, Rolan."

"He's dead. I won." He hisses out, ready to bare his teeth.

"Yet here you are, trying not to cry at the mere mention of him," he says, not unkindly. "It's only been a few weeks. None of us expect you to be okay right away."

"I should be."

"Rolan, I would be more worried if it didn't affect you."

He scoffs but buries his face deeper into his neck, and Tav feels the wetness of tears running down his skin once more. Tav sighs slowly to calm himself first, then speaks to him again.

"I love you," he murmurs, taking one of his hands in his and squeezing. "And I adore you. You mean a lot to me, and you mean a lot to Cal and Lia. Let us help you."

Rolan doesn't say another word, but the way he squeezes his hand back speaks volumes to him. It doesn't take him long to fall asleep exactly where he is, as if his body finally realized it wasn't in danger anymore. It is within minutes, and it's the fastest he's ever seen Rolan fall asleep.

Kissing his sweat-streaked brow, he fully relaxes into the bed and stays with him. The contents of Rolan's nightmares are a mystery to him for now, and while he can guess all night what they were about this time, he's too exhausted to think.

For now, he will sleep with his lover and hope they will be able to talk in the morning.

"You're not alone, and you will see that, love. One day." Tav whispers.

#forest-writes #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #holy rolan empire #bg3 rolan #rolan

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writing-whump · 2 months

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Maybe something with Rip and Dylan in their new place in the nearby? With Rip wanting to prove (himself and everybody else) that he is fine and capable of taking care of himself... and failing miserably, because it's still too early. 👀

(I imagine it could be overwhelming/hard for him to be on 'foreign' terrain for so long, pinned to the bed (I remember him enjoying walking on the roofs), with 'so much' other wolfes (even if he tolerates Dylan and is thankfull to the rest of them) - as he is more accustomed to be mostly on his own, only. And now, having some independency...

You know. Small steps. 🐾 )

This is a perfectly fitting prompt for Rip! I love it so much!!

In the absence of fear

"What are you doing?" Seline asked, descending the stairs at the late hour of 11 in the morning, only to find Dylan and Matthew sprawled on the couch in front of the TV.

"Chilling," Dylan said in his best bratty teenage tone.

Seline blinked at him in disbelief. It was the tone she was the most familiar with, but she hadn't heard it in the last three weeks. Not since Rip.

"Did something happen? How is Rip? What are you-"

"Hey, Sis, do something for me? Chill out. Too many questions." Dylan rubbed his eyes, slumping back to occupy most of the couch.

Matthew looked completely unbothered. He had been running and sparring for so much the past week it was a wonder he was even awake. Seline got the gist he was trying to tire himself out from feeling anything that could upset his shadow.

"Is Isaiah awake?"

Dylan threw his hand back towards the kitchen. "Prepared us breakfast. Asked about you and then went to his room to work on some papers or whatever."

Seline bit her lip. Summer break had thrown her weekend routine out the window. Her disciplined schedule of early mornings and socializing had given way to lazy starts. She now woke up at 8, lingering in bed to listen to music and daydream, scribbling poems and story beginnings until hunger finally drove her out.

She was glad Isaiah hadn’t come to get her. Despite their occassional mutual confusions and misunderstandings, he understood when she needed space. Perhaps because he often needed it himself.

Seline went to get the two eggs in glass and the ham and small tomatoes, wondering what emotional mood Dylan was in. Enough to ask about when he was gonna visit mother? Was this a teenage mood of "let me chill and watch TV cause I can't do that at home" or something else?

It was a wonder how much you could lose touch with one another after just a year of living apart.

Seline came back to the living room with a steaming cup of coffee, leaning against the back of the sofa.

"Any plans for today?"

Dylan didn't look up, staring at the screen with intent that the ad for chicken prices couldn't warrant.

"Did something happen?" she tried again.

"Oh nothing," Dylan's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Just that mister Grumpy woke up, bit my fucking head off-"

"Language."

"-for asking him what he wanted to eat. He wants to be alone so much, he can be my fucking guest."

"Aha." Problems in paradise, huh? She was surprised the boys had lasted that long. When it wasn't so serious, they were still just a couple of teenage boys with heightened emotions and cranky shadows.

And Dylan, for all his good qualities, was very easy to offend.

...

It was so quiet.

Rip, feeling the rare sensation of having both strength and space, began to cautiously explore the new place. He could not, by all means, consider it his, but he could also not relax if he didn't inspect every corner on his own.

It had basic furniture. A living room and two small bedrooms and a kitchen. It was the biggest and cleanest place Rip had been in undisturbed for a very long time, if not ever.

Isaiah rented it and his pack and Dylan helped clean it up. The disinfection helped get the foreign scents out so they could get used to it more easily.

It smelled like Dylan. Which wasn't an offensive scent, just a reminder of how incapable Rip currently was of leaving his own trail behind.

He made himself shuffle from one corner to the next. Touch a wall, go to the next one. About time he made himself walk.

His side burned at the movement, but it was just a patch of pain instead of it shooting up his stomach and chest and paralysing him all the way. Progress, no matter how small and frustrating.

He ended up perched at the window still in the living room, opening it ajar so he could breathe the fresh air in eager gulps.

Rip craved the outside.

He wanted to escape the walls of protection, of this locked-up feeling. He wanted the roofs, the heights, the wind in his face. The feeling of his legs when running, to tense his hands when he climbed up a railing, the view from the top of a building, with the world bustling beneath him.

This place was just so quiet, it was deafening.

It was never like this at his place. The familiar sounds of the streets, footsteps, and wolves that could appear at any moment, but followed certain patterns in the early morning, after sundown, and always after midnight… now that he was aware of himself and his surroundings again, it felt wrong not to have them around.

Rip leaned against the wall, legs folded underneath him. He could smell rain in the air. Thunder would be a welcome sound, something to pierce through this neutral, nothing saying grayness.

A growing pressure inside his skull hinted at the approaching storm, making it hard to concentrate. These days, exhaustion overtook him quickly; a few steps left him breathless and his eyes heavy with sleep. He had learned not to fight it, knowing it would only bring more exhaustion.

Rip unglued himself from the window, moving carefully to let his legs down onto the floor. He made the last few meters to the couch and collapsed on it.

Rip struggled to recall why Dylan had left that morning. Did they have a fight? What about? Yes, Rip was getting frustrated and cranky and he wanted Dylan to leave him alone, to let him breathe, just for a second. He didn't mean for the other boy to leave, but now, with the quiet enveloping him, he was sort of glad he did.

There was relief and peace in the silence. To not being watched all the time like some invalid. To not being reminded of everything he could not do, that he had to get help for. At least now he had an illusion of not needing it.

Rip was eternally grateful and obligated to Dylan anyway. Was there a point in pretending he was happy about it? Why could Dylan just not leave him alone, like everyone else did, like he deserved? How long would he have to wait until Dylan got fed up with him—of how much of a burden Rip was?

Rip curled up on the couch, shivering with a sudden coldness. His shirt was itchy against the stitches. It was Dylan's shirt, too. Dylan brought with more clothes from his childhood home, clothes he didn't need than Rip ever owned in his life.

He closed his eyes, pulled into a restless sleep, guilty and undeserving as always.

An axe came down on his head.

Rip woke up with a start, covered in sweat, breath hitching. The room was dark, twilight behind the windows. His heart was beating harshly against his ribs.

He shifted on the couch to move to the bed, when he realized what had woken him. A bone-splitting pain, as if struck by a dream axe, radiated from the left side of his forehead up into his hairline. Rip doubled over under the weight of his own head, fists clenching at his sides.

This was a new pain, one he didn't know. The knife-wound was worse at its time, but this was debilitating in its unexpectedness. What was going on? The dull pressure he felt turned into this while he slept? What did he do?

He slowly dragged himself to his feet and swayed immediately, having to catch himself on the couch. His sense of balance was shot. Thank god the room was so dark, because he couldn't open his eyes more than to slits. The pain pounded through his head in synch with his heartbeat and he was breathing harshly, like he had just stopped running, like he was still capable of running. His stomach leaped and jumped unhappily.

Nope, with the split in his skull and the stitches, all he could do was shuffle forward, one painful step at a time. He managed to get all the way to the kitchen and had to lean with both hands against the table to stay upright. The pain made him dizzy, a heavy piece of iron in his head being slammed in by a hammer.

There was a slimy feeling slithering behind his teeth. As the room span dizzily around him, he realized it was nausea. Jesus Christ, what was this?

Rip took deep breaths through his mouth, waiting till the room settled back to try new steps. He had to calculate his path carefully, cause he didn't think he could walk straight. He dared a couple steps from the table towards the wall. His brain was rattling in his skull and he pressed his forehead against the cool steady surface until the dizziness died down. His teeth tickled, something heavy against his throat.

Halfway through the next impossible step, he realized he better aim for the bathroom instead. His stomach was positively churning and twisting, making his toes curl up.

Half-blind from the pounding thoughts-melting pain and the nauseating dizziness, Rip finally made it to the bathroom, in front of the toilet. That was about all he managed before he was vomiting, head exploding with pain that had him seeing stars.

...

Dylan really didn't need Seline telling him he was acting childish.

So what if he was? If Rip wanted to have a day for himself, because Dylan's fussing was annoying or whatever, then he could have it. Dylan was doing Rip a favor, not himself.

Plus, spending the day on the couch with Matthew, switching between Netflix series, was a welcome break after the admittedly tough three weeks he had just gone through.

At least he was getting to know Seline's pack better after barging in on them with a favor. Favour for stupid Rip. How come that even when he was doing his best not to think about the guy, he still ended up circling back to him?

When Dylan stepped into their shared apartment, he expected it to be quiet. Rip was always quiet, when he wasn't growling at him in frustration to chase him away. Of course Dylan knew that was just another way of Rip doing so. He tried the dying and the "I can't pay you back" crap before, so this was a logical next step.

Should he announce himself or let the injured wolf sleep? Maybe they could end the day not talking and start afresh tomorrow.

There was a faint coughing sound that stopped him in his steps though. Dylan listened, pinpointing the direction. It was coming from the bathroom.

Dylan frowned, but went to investigate. The door was half-way open and he was confused, so he stuck his head in...and opened it all the way immediately, running inside.

The bathroom was a mess. There was vomit everywhere. On the floor, around the toilet, on the seat, under the sink...and Rip was in the middle of it, face pressed against the tiles, both hands wrapped around his head from behind, gasping for breath.

"Holy fucking shit-"

Rip made a noise, somewhere between a sob and a keening wail. Dylan immediately shut his mouth, sliding to his knees beside him. "What happened? What's wrong? Rip?"

Dylan struggled to get a look at Rip's face. His throat was bobbing loudly and he was shaking all over. "Rip? Rip, talk to me!"

Rip shuddered at his voice near his ear, curling into himself. "M-my head..."

"Your head?" Dylan said incredulously. What? That had nothing to do with the stitches. "Did you hit it or something?"

"N-no-..." Rip coughed and swallowed heavily. He was covered in sweat, black curly hair plastered to his neck. "Hurts...like an axe is splitting it open-" he whimpered. Actually whimpered. Dylan hadn't seen him whimper like that since the first day after the injury, when his shadow returned and Rip got his sense of pain back.

"I-I don't understand," Dylan said helplessly, reaching for Rip's shoulder. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna get you up from the floor, okay?"

Rip winced, hands going around his stomach as if to hug himself, but didn't protest.

Dylan took him by the shoulder and gently straightened him up. He wrapped his arm around Rip's back and pulled him to his feet.

The reaction was immediate. Rip shuddered and coughed, his stomach expelling a fresh wave of vomit down his front. Dylan had to hold on to him as the sick wolf's legs buckled underneath him with another wave of watery vomit right onto the floor.

"Okay, not the brightest idea," Dylan said, fighting back a gag of his own at the horrible scene and smell.

"S-sorry, I c-can't-"

"It's alright," Dylan said through gritted teeth, waiting till the waves tampered down. Rip stayed bent in half, dry-heaving for a good half a minute before the fit ended, only to immediately slump back. Dylan barely caught him with a curse.

"Can you move?" Which really meant if he could walk without vomiting again.

Rip just whimpered, hands clutching at the left side on top of his forehead like he had a cut there.

"Christ, when did this start? Did you feel sick to your stomach all of a sudden?" Dylan dragged him away from the messed-up bathroom, realizing that every room they went to was at risk of becoming the same. It worried him out of his mind that he didn't know what this was. Could Rip really get an infection, after all this time? Did he eat something outside the broths and soups Dylan, Sel and Isaiah made for him? They had a supply of them in the fridge, surely Rip wouldn't risk eating something else, so soon after the IV?

Dylan opted to maneuver them to Rip's room, hoping his own space, however new, would bring him some degree of comfort. He helped him up on the bed and onto his back, gently trying to pry Rip's hands out of his face. "Let me see, buddy, come on."

Rip let out a pitiful whine, reluctantly letting go. His hands were curled up into fists again and his face was scrunched up in a pained grimace, shirt all wet up from his chin to his middle.

Dylan inspected the place Rip kept pressing against, careful fingers sliding up and down, but there was nothing—not even a bump, a cut, no bleeding.

When he retracted his hands, Rip immediately went to hold the spot again, curling up on his side with a whimper.

"Wait, man, we should get you out of that shirt..."

Rip keened again, obviously beyond caring about the vomit on his clothes, the pain riding out everything else, whispering desperate little: "Make it stop, please make it stop..."

Dylan crouched down beside him, planting one hand on Rip's shoulder again. He wrinkled his nose at the stench before fishing out his phone. He could not do this alone.

...

Rip was wiggling on the bed in agony. He didn't know he could feel pain comparable to the stab wound, but he was proven wrong.

He never had headaches in his life. It was the most unlikely place to get injured, really, if you weren't falling down or getting it bumped.

The bite marks on his neck and arms, the hot piercing feeling of an enemy shadow sliding through his body, body punches — he was used to that. He could handle it.

This pounding pain in his forehead — why the specific spot anyway ?— was unexpected and foreign, and it scared him all the more because of how unpredictable it was.

Not to mention the accompanying dizziness and nausea and the way it messed with his equilibrium and senses. He couldn't think, he couldn't feel anything else. Vaguely he realized he wasn't alone, that Dylan came, that the cold bathroom tiles weren't digging into his knees anymore, but that was about it. His stomach muscles hurt from heaving, his stitches burned, but it was nothing against the hammer driving spikes into his left temple.

And then suddenly the Executioner was there, kneeling by his bed with a small crease etched between his eyebrows. Rip shivered at the sight, but really, what worse could the Executioner do than put him out of his misery?

"Rip. Rip, I need you to focus on me. Have you ever had headaches or migraines before?"

Rip thrashed, struggling to stay still and meet Isaiah’s gaze. Focusing on one spot intensified the pain, making Isaiah's face a blur and nausea rise in his throat. He fought down a retch. "No."

"Is your shadow hurt?"

Rip's lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "No." His shadow tried. It tried running through him, to heal him, to help, but it managed nothing against the pain. Its grief over it echoed in Rip's chest.

He saw more than felt Isaiah reaching over to his side. Ah right, it was the Executioner after all, who 'operated' him. Without flinching, the older wolf lifted the hem of his stained shirt, looking over the stitches, his expression dissatisfied.

"What's wrong with him?" Dylan's voice sounded anxious, somewhere to Rip's left. He didn't like his fear. Dylan was supposed to be optimistic, calming him, reassuring him that everything could be healed. Dylan's worry made Rip's lips tremble, eyes burning with tears.

"Dylan, get me two large towels, one wet and one dry. And a mixing bowl, if you would be so kind. If you could take care of the bathroom, that would be great."

Isaiah sending Dylan away instead of providing a solution felt alarming. Like he was about to do something Dylan wasn't supposed to see. Maybe Rip really was dying this time.

"I'm going to lift you up, okay?" Isaiah said it more like a warning than a question, cause he pulled Rip up by the arms, before Rip could think better of it. It ushered up a new dizzy spell and a gag, Rip slumping in Isaiah's arms like a rag doll. His breathing was erratic, fast and painful to his own ears, though he couldn't feel any pain past his head.

Isaiah peeled the filthy shirt off matter-of-factly, holding Rip up until Dylan came with the towel. The oldest wolf put the dry one under Rip's pillow before letting him lie down, then positioned the wet one over his head.

Rip sighed in appreciation at the cool sensation against the digging, bleeding spike that should have, by all means, dug its way through his brain by now. It brought a smitten of relief, though send shivers down his spine and exposed arms.

Isaiah drew the covers over Rip's trembling chest. He stayed seated on the bed beside Rip's head. "The bowl is right here. If you feel sick, it's okay."

Rip wrapped his hands around his sore stomach. He rolled to his other side so he could press his forehead into the towel easier. "D-do you know w-what's wrong with me?" He hated the stumble in his voice, but he also couldn't care less in the face of the debilitating pain.

Isaiah gave a long sigh, leaning against the headboard. Rip didn't understand the proximity, but at least he didn't have to talk loudly. "I have an idea, yeah."

"Can't you make it stop? If it's t-he injury-"

"It's not. And if your shadow isn't working, I doubt any painkillers will, though we can try it, once you feel less pukey."

Rip unglued his eyes, making himself look up at the Executioner leaning over him with a calm expression. Few more stress tears slid down his cheek from how intensely he had to focus to keep his eyes open.

"It's the stress," Isaiah said after a moment, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall. "Or rather, the lack of it. When you stay in an intense, painful situation for a long time, your body adapts to survive. But once you relax, everything catches up to you."

Rip sniffled, scrunching his nose. That sounded like total bullshit.

"For real, kid. Migraines are just one of the ways your body can react."

"H-how do you know?" Rip couldn't help the growl in his voice. What kind of nonsense was Isaiah spewing? He could not be getting this hurt from relaxing, for Shadow's sake.

Isaiah was quiet for a while, his voice strained and tense as it pierced through Rip's headache. "When I left my pack for the first time, I went through something similar. Knowing I wouldn't have to get hurt anymore, that I was safe — it made me sick for weeks. Hurting in places I never realized, places I'd never been hurt before. It was like the years of pain suddenly crashed over me, demanding their toll all at once."

Rip took a hitching breath. He wasn't sure if this was information someone should know about an Executioner without their life being at risk. His head couldn’t fathom why Isaiah would share something so personal and revealing, or what horrors his pack could have inflicted to compare to Rip's life as a street stray.

Yet, something in Rip's chest unclenched at the words. A mix of relief that there was an explanation, that someone understood, that he wasn't alone in feeling pathetic, weak, and in pain. Isaiah shared the information so easily, admitting something Rip had to be in agony to confess.

The flood of confusing emotions and thoughts had the hammer coming down a bit more forcefully. Rip groaned at the sensation, giving up the fight and squeezing his eyes shut. "F-few w-weeks?"

"No, kid. I'm sure it won't last that long for you." Isaiah's hand twitched towards Rip, but then he let it fall to his side.

Rip wasn't sure if the Executioner was telling the truth or lying to comfort him, but he would take the lie with all he had.

#sickfic #hurt/comfort #vomiting #migraine #stress migraine #emeto #werewolf wip #my writing #Rip #idk why the Rip fics always turn out longer lol

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aaaaafro · 2 years

Text

Sis - ITZY Chaeryeong & Soloist Chaeyeon x M! Reader. (+18)

tw: drunk seggs? misdirection, of course sistas (but you already know that), not proofread coz I'm lazy and stuff.

"Ah–fuck." You told yourself as you almost tripped on your doorstep.

"I'm home." You announce or... At least in your alcohol-drowned mind that's what you said.

Entering your dimly lit house and somehow noticing a pair of shoes left in the entrance you suspected that your girlfriend is already home and resting. Oh boy your jealousy of sleeping soundly, unlike your deal with your headache and alcohol stank, as you methodically dodging all of the furniture.

Thankful for your memory as you've successfully passed all of the obstacles till you've made your way to your bedroom which the door was strangely ajar.

You shrugged thinking that it's your girlfriend's fault, after all leaving a door not closed entirely is normal due to fatigue having to practice, record and perform songs for their fan.

I mean after all we're talking about the arguably best dancer of the 4th gen K-pop. ITZY's very own Lee Chaeryeong.

Yup, HER. You honestly have no goddamn clue on how you bagged such a girl but it was those random ass situation that you ran into her and just shoot your shot. Like when they say when life gives you and opportunity fucking grab it by the neck.

You then reached for your phone as you enter the bedroom to try and see what unacceptable time you've arrived home after an office party, only to notice that there was actually a message from your girl.

With your eyes barely perceiving anything you only catch a tad of what the fuck was on the screen. 'Something about her sister and a thing about special?' You couldn't wrap your head around it but it's something a sober you would pay attention to, then again you're not sober right now.

Finally giving up you place your phone on the nightstand and collapse on the bed. It was then that you finally see your girl's silhouette through the dark room.

Normally you'd pounce her and rain down on her with some love but tonight is different as your body is barely able to move without causing a jolting pain behind your head, you cursed your workmates and the alcohol for robbing you off of your quality time with your girl.

She shifted seemingly a tad bit awaken by the sudden addition of weight on your bed. She turned towards you and oh lord despite the darkness that floods your bedroom with the pathetic effort of the moonlight to illuminate her face and the ridiculous amounts of booze basically impairing your vision you wouldn't fail to be amaze by your girl's vision. It's truly one of a kind, well–two since she and her sister are almost identical.

Anyways, you smiled at the sight as you see her blurry face, uh her cute lil'eyes those soft lips, her messy hair creating a pseudo bangs like her older sis.

"Y/N?" Her raspy voice reached your eardrums and what a contrast from the overly strained voice from your coworkers singing or you think that's what they were doing, any how.

"Yes baby." You replied pulling her slim figure closer, hoping to get a bit of recharge of your energy.

"Are you drunk?"

"Mhmmm." You replied snuggling her tighter as she giggled before returning the embrace.

After a few minutes of cuddling she lifted her head from your chest.

"You smell like beer." Again with her raspy voice.

"Oh shit, sorry." With your best effort you sat up and removed your shirt.

You hear a gasp from Chae. After finally discarding your shirt somewhere in the room you went back and recaptured her in your arms.

"You're so warm." She whispered. You actually managed to notice a different register on her voice but suspecting it's due to her dry throat you opted to help her by...

"Am I?." You heard a small yelp as you capture her lips with yours.

This isn't like the first time she's like this, Chaeryeong is actually quite shy and timid about this kind of stuff that's why that reaction of it's like the first time the two of you are making out.

Gaining your second light despite the constant stinging of your head you decide to go for it. Pulling her in even more as your lips collide in an explosive manner.

Perhaps it was the lack of your proper consciousness, or even the alcohol but her lips felt different a tad bit more fresh as if your brain is telling you to familiarise yourself with it, in any case it is still exhilarating.

You can hear her soft moans into the kiss and a tug on your collar encourages you to double your efforts in making your partner feel love.

It was then she actually pushed you down and got on top of you that you were able to notice the lack of oxygen you two had. As if you two ran a marathon the way both of you heaved to try and catch your breath.

With her frame on top of you, you couldn't help but thank all the gods above with the luck you're blessed with having an opportunity to make love with such a goddess.

"Uugghh." Nope that wasn't a moan, it was rather a bit more of a groan as your head stings when you tried to get a better look at her by widening your eyes.

"You okay?" Not wanting this to end you just nodded despite the drilling pain on your head.

Right after hearing your answer she started grinding her lower body onto you. Your manhood slowly grows as her grinding grows more aggressively as well.

After a few more gyration from her hips you feel your body's heat rise extensively though it seems like you're not the only one to which your girl removes her shirt and my god your head almost rolled.

Obviously it's not your first time seeing her like this but she's a little–... different? You don't honestly know but then again you're drunk as fuck so why not.

Of course you'd want to vice grip her orbs as tight as you can but she was took fast, as her hands took yours and from her slim his she guided them towards her chest.

And who are you to not give her a few squeezes that earned you a long moan– it's straight up orchestra as her vocals reached your eardrums.

"Mhmmm~." She continued grinding on your pelvis and you of course getting a handful of her breasts.

Seemingly frustrated with the insufficient pleasure she decided to stop before snaking down, her thighs rubbing along yours as she levels her head to your pelvis.

Her fingers slipping into the hem of your boxers you found yourself in trance as her eyes were laser focused on yours even then you found yourself confused once more with the unfamiliarity of the situation.

With all of that said who are you not you enjoy the moment, right? As she starts pulling your boxers down and just as your manhood was about to spring out.

You saw a shadow coming from the doorway of your bedroom. A flick of the light switch caused your brain to overdrive.

After all you're currently seeing two Chaeryeongs...

Ah fuck!–you quickly readjust your eyes as you look at the one on the doorway. Yup that's your Chaery, you then shifted your eyes towards the one on your lower half.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" You didn't even get a second to think as you heard Chaeryeong angrily stomping towards your bed.

"I–... This is not w-what it l-looks like." You pleaded begging for your brain to try and understand what's happening.

You manage to sat up despite the ringing in your head and the added weight on your legs. Meanwhile Chaeryeong is finally at the bedside.

"W-wait, l-let me explain... Just g-give me...–a... Chaeyeon?" Finally sobering up you scratched your eyes a couple of times.

"Hi." Chaeyeon cutely waving her hand.

"C-chaery I–." Your eyes darted back and forth from your lower half to your girlfriend.

As you tried to come up with an explanation your girl's face of disbelief slowly transforming into anger. In the middle of thinking you've realized how ridiculous it is specially knowing that you'd easily be confused with the two of them specially when drunk out of your mind.

"So?!" Chaeryeong cuts off your train of thought demanding an explanation, how ever she wasn't expecting it from you.

"What's the meaning of this unnie?" You look as dumb as you feel expecting to hear an earful from your girlfriend but something doesn't feel right.

"What? You're the one who went out." Chaeyeon answered unfazed.

"I told you to wait for me." Chaeryeong visibly frustrated.

"W-wait? Eh?" You sat there dumbfounded with the sight of Kpop's ChaeSis.

"I–..."

"I don't understand." Was all you could say before noticing the grin from the sisters as they looked at one another.

"Didn't you see the message I sent?" There's your mistake. Ignoring her message. You tried to reach for your phone only to have your hand swatted back by Chaeryeong, you try fanning away the sting as you refocused back to the sisters.

"Too late there babe." Chaeryeong sneaked a glance to her sister before the two crawled their way towards you.

"I-... I don't u–understand." You recoiled for various reasons but most because of the confusion.

"You see baby... Unnie, right there..." Chaeyeon cutely smiles right beside you.

"Her week hasn't been the best and since she's coming to have a little vacation here. I offered her a bit of a destress of some sorts." Chaeryeong's playful tone really contrast the heaviness of the situation as the sisters finally closes in sandwiching you between them.

"So, what do you say we give sis here a bit of a destress? Baby?" Her hot breath brushing on your as Chaeyeon's hands travels to your chest.

"I–.” If you were sober there would've been an argument that this is a ridiculous offer even if it's Chaeryeong's idea however you're far from that.

You sigh and it was like a gunshot from the race as the sisters almost tear your boxers trying to get it off of you. Motionless you watch as the two giggles along with such a difference of cuteness of the two with the erotic task at hand.

"Good, you're already hard." said Chaeryeong who had successfully engulfed your member in her hand.

"Did I do a great job?" Chaeyeon looks at you with her eyes seemingly asking for approval.

You smile and nodded as without another word started slobbering your rod. Chaeyeon was focusing on the head while Chaeryeong licks the base.

Never in your wildest dreams you've even thought of seeing the ChaeSis like this but oh boy aren't you thankful for it.

"Mhhmmm."

"Uurgghh~!"

The two took turns into shoving your hard rod throat deep as you almost came at the tightness, curling your toes a pathetic attempt to hold it in.

"Argh fuck!" You exhaled failing to keep it together as Chaeryeong's throat tightened around you.

She quickly unlatched as your love liquid shoots straight up only to land back to your member. ChaeSis proudly looks at one another before they continued to slobber your rod, wiping it clean like it's fresh.

Your member didn't even get a second of down time with the sight in front of you. As you're starting to appreciate the luck this life gave you, the sisters then started stripping.

"Oh my fuckin goddamn." You can hear the two of them scoff at your reaction.

"Lay down baby." Not even a hint of resistance you lay down flat on your back.

Before you even know it your vision was blocked by something also introducing your taste bud to something sweet and how can you ignore the tight sensation on your rod.

Yep, they're double teaming you, moans floods your bedroom as the two synchronized with their hips movement. You honestly don't know who's who at this point so why not simultaneously make them climax?

"Oh m~my!"

"S–shit~."

A long in sync gasps from the two allows you to brace yourself as both your mouth and rod got flooded by their juices.

"Aaahhhh~." ChaeSis exasperated breathing. You did your best to drink all of the juices up.

You managed to leave not a single drop before the one responsible for your face detached itself from you.

"Who was that?" You asked as the two just smiled innocently.

"You know what? Nevermind." In defeat the two just smiled before laying down.

You stood up from the bed admiring the two gorgeous woman on your bed. The obvious choice would be to get you girlfriend first but she suddenly closes her legs as you got in front of her.

"O-okay?" You questioned but quickly brushing it off and switching towards Chaeyeon.

Oh lordy the bodies of both are gorgeous beyond belief, you can see Chaeyeon's blush as she slowly spread her legs giving you a good look at her glistening core.

"You're beautiful." You commented as her feet then inches up to brush your rod. You winced at the feeling.

"Is she more beautiful than me?" Chaeryeong reacts causing you cut out of your pleasure train.

"A-... N-no." You replied not wanting to anger your girlfriend.

"I'm kidding, go ahead babe, make her feel good." Chaeryeong went towards Chaeyeon as the two of them looked at you before smiling.

"D-do it slowly, please?" Chaeyeon pleaded with her round eyes as you line yourself to her entrance.

She was right about going slow due to how tight she is, if it wasn't for the wetness you'd be having a much harder time than you already have.

Finally able to insert a few inches in, Chaeyeon's whimper almost causes you to finish along with the sight of naked Chaeryeong right beside her.

Just as you finally got all of your length in you immediately saw Chaeryeong's finger circling on her moist entrance.

"Fuck~!" You hear Chaeyeon as the two of them once more moans in sync as you start to thrust in and out of the older sister.

"Mhmm– that's it baby, show her some good time." Chaeryeong reacts as her fingers works twice as hard causing you to double your efforts as well.

"Uuggh, shit." You groan as you feel your balls tighten along with Chaeyeon's walls around you.

Chaeyeon was elated trying to grab anything like a vice grip to somehow make something out of the pleasure she's getting.

"Mhmmm, keep it in baby." Chaeryeong moans as her fingers slip inside her in a hook motion along with the splashing sounds kept you on the edge.

"Fuck, can't hold it in." With a final few thrust you heard Chaeryeong in between her moans say "Outside babe."

You quickly pulled out painting her older abs, you heard a long sigh from Chaeryeong and Chaeyeon before your eyes readjust only to see Chaeryeong licking up your love liquid on her older sister's abdomen.

And sadly that was the last thing you could see before passing out.

Finally waking up with the sunlight blinding you through your eyelids, you stretched your arms out only to notice Chaeryeong's head resting on your chest.

"Morning." Her soft voice tickles your ears as you place a kiss on her forehead.

"Morning my Chaery, I had the wildest dream." You replied with a raspy voice.

"Oh really what happened?" She questioned.

"Well you just allowed me to sleep with your sister." A knock from your door caused your head to jerk towards it only to see Chaeyeon with your apron and a spatula in hand.

"Wake up love birds, breakfast is ready."

Your head almost rolled off as you quickly turn it towards your girlfriend. A devious smile forms across her face before placing a quick smooch on your lips. Hopping out of the bed with a hoody and her cheeks peaking out of her underwear.

A wink sends shivers up your spine as she exits the room. Along with her sister.

"Ah–fuck." You whispered looking at your ceiling.

#itzy smut #Chaeyeon smut #Chaeryeong smut #itzy x reader #male reader #lee chaeryeong #lee chaeyeon

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silverinkbottle · 7 months

Text

Chapter 3: Shopping Around

A/N: Delayed chapter, but here it's here! We get a glimpse of Reader's Past, Alastor's introduction and Vox's unwelcome arrival.

Word Count:4.8K

Chapter Two <- Previous Chapter

Darkness. A muted scream in the void, curling pressure around your thighs as if something was trying to drag you deeper into the black. You awoke with a sputtering cough as you jolted upward in the cozy bed. Unconsciously loosening your fingers from around your throat as you took another ragged breath. Dreams, once little escapes for the living, but in your mind a consistent reminder of the present. Black ink stained your fingertips as you looked down at them. Little delicate hands that hadn’t seen a spot of hard labor as you relied on your wits to get by. That hadn’t changed as you could feel the bitter taste of ink fading over your tastebuds. Was it getting worse? Or was it from waking up in an entirely new place that amplified your awareness?

It was all too tempting to fall back into the warm sheets as you fell back down with a huff. The weight of the bags under your eyes made it clear that you hadn’t slept well. Or if at all as you tried to remember the events of the night before. The mere fraction of movement as Lucifer tried to find the ideal spot for his desk. The chicken-scratch quality notes as he flipped through catalogs of furniture featured in the various Rings. Did he really want your opinion on flowers that had potentially fatal side effects? You could all but feel the slow pulse of headache from the mere memory of it as it reared its’ strength as your bedroom door slammed open.

The blonde tornado was in rare form today as you scrambled to keep your bedsheets up around you, while still reaching for the little black book on your nightstand. Boundaries, the King of Hell hadn’t a clue about boundaries as he continued oblivious to your discomfort. Your fogged mind managed to sort out the gist of the conversation. A shopping trip between daddy and daughter. Did you think Charlie would let him buy her new furniture? Her quarters were sparse, she deserved the world. But what if she said no? Should he take her to the boutiques of Greed first or would that opulence be too much? Was it better to ease her into it with Gluttony slow temptation?

Half of that was a muffled mess as Lucifer tripped over the edge of the floor rug into the end of your bed. His hat in disarray as you did your best to hide your laughter at his feeble leg kicks. Looking very much like his beloved waterfowl in the water as you were quick to smother your smile when he managed to right himself.

“Well. What do you think?” Lucifer huffed as you slowly trailed your pen over the hastily scribbled notes. You only knew the Princess through Lucifer’s biased views, but you could only imagine the chaos if the pair were unleashed in a Greed department store. It would be better for them to warm up, it seemed.

“Perhaps, a trip to Guttony for a spot of breakfast would be best.” You cautioned as Lucifer nodded in agreement. A full stomach would dissuade even the most determined of shoppers. It was an unfortunate flaw that even you admitted to as you became quite sluggish in the morning if it wasn’t a light meal.

“But I don’t know what she would like..what if-”

“It's the Gluttony Ring, sir, I am sure she will find something that tickles her fancy..” You were quick to cut off the words with a firm, but kind tone. The last thing you needed was the misanthropic man agonizing over if his estranged child would prefer pancakes over scones. Discreetly pulling on your robe, you were quick to usher him out of your quarters with a few nods of affirmation and hums.

There was a distant screech of protest and shouts as Lucifer had taken off to find Charlie without a second glance. Did she know about the trip? Far coarser words bounced off the walls from Vaggie, as the answer came in a resounding NO. Spontaneity ran in the family as a loud squeal came from Charlie as who knew what sorts of ideas Lucifer was filling her head with.

Quickly slamming your bedroom door shut, to prevent you having TWO issues on your hands. Charlie, at least, seemed to have a sense of space compared to her father. An eerie sense of calm trickled through you. A day off? It wasn’t as if Lucifer would drag you along to intrude on a bit of family bonding time. Still, the concept almost felt foreign to your workaholic mind as you trudged over your wardrobe with little flair. You couldn’t lay in bed all day, it was far too indulgent. Nor would sleep find you as you could feel your throat tighten at the thought.

No, there was a far more appealing option. A nice drink and your little black book.

The parlor of the hotel was strangely quiet aside from the faint click of glasses from the bar. Even its usual barfly was out for the day as you fiddled with the collar of your coat. Husker acknowledged your presence with a grunt before taking a better look at your outfit.

“It's a bit morbid isn’t it?”

“I prefer nostalgia. Mink was expensive in my time, don’t you know..” You retorted with a sniff. Your ears twitched as you could hear a rumble of activity from upstairs. Nothing fell through the second floor, so things seemed to be fine. Yet, the bartender had a point. The flattened empty skin of a fox’s head draped over your throat, while its brilliant coat of reds and whites curled around your body. The coat’s lower half mingled with warmer felts and velvets as it tried to conceal the poorer quality of the pelt. Clasped closed by the steel brooch as you crossed your legs revealing a sliver of fishnets beneath the pelts as you leaned against the bar.

“Now are you going to critique my choices in fashion or are you going to serve me a drink?”

“Gin n tonic?”

“Make it a whisky on the rocks. It’s my day off..” You muttered as Husker raised a furred brow at the drastic change in choice. A gin and tonic was light, botanical and easier on the tongue. Yet, whiskey burned like hot coals as it slid down the gullet. Even if garnished with a lemon twist as the little twist elegantly floated in the amber liquid. Oh, it burned, it burned away at the whispering thoughts as you were quick to order another. Then another. Burning away memories like a greedy flame licking away at fresh paper.

“And he thinks it’s alright!” Your voice pitched in emotion as you slammed your hand down on the polished counter as Husker looked more and more put out with each passing second. As if this sort of situation had been forced upon him frequently. He was a bartender afterall.

“So, we talking about the big boss or Al?” Husker growled

“That’s-not-the-point” You hiccuped as you could feel scarlet chase over your features. Warming your features in an entirely different manner compared to the liquor seeping through your rational thoughts. How did bitching about furniture and boundaries turn into this as you took another sip of your drink. Was this the third or fourth, you were losing count. Your tail lashed betraying your agitation as Husk’s keen eyes didn’t budge from your sulking form. He had a point. Fucker.

A cool burst of air ran up the back of your heated neck as the front doors slammed open. Husk visibly bristled as the intruder swept past them without a single word.

“Fucking prick. Don’t he know that-”

“Shorter than I thought he would be” You snickered as you drained the whiskey in one final draught. Swiving in your chair, you waited for the entertainment to start. The fruitless attempts of watching the one-sided dance between Vox and the unfettered guards. One step to the left, another tick of a typewriter as another pair of paperboys appeared to impede the Overlord.

“FUCK” Vox snarled as his hand was bitten into as he tried to shove one of the paperboy’s back by the shoulder. A further burst of giggles slipped from your loose lips as the Overlord cradled his injured hand. FInally he spun around on his heel to witness you almost falling off the barstool as you idly waved them off from pouncing on the overlord.

“Where the fuck is Lucifer and what the fuck is with these-” Vox’s hand bled freely as the crimson droplets flew through the air. The paperboys were all but trembling with anticipation, but didn’t budge a step from the stairs as you dismissed them with a short whistle. The creatures tipped their hands before vanishing into a spontaneous black burrow. Vox connected the dots with ease as he turned to the head up the stairs once more.

“He is out. Please, Mr. Vox do not make me call reinforcements. I can write a message for him if you insist.”

The words came out fluidly if a bit clipped as your job had molded around you like a cap to a bottle. Even in your intoxicated state, the script that left your lips was without flaw. Even if your amusement of the situation was betrayed by your tiny smile taking satisfaction in the entire situation.

“And when will he come back?” Vox asked politely, almost all too sweetly. Losing patience with the word ‘no’ it seemed or anything that impeded him from getting what he wanted. An Overlord at the base. There was a click of ice and liquor as you snorted unladylike into your fresh glass.

“Do I look like I know? I can’t exactly demand the King of Hell ignore his whims.” You sighed before taking a sip of the fresh drink. The kindly bartender had even garnished it with a cherry as you fished it out of the cold glass. Evidently taking as much joy in seeing the Overlord get stifled in his own plans as you did.

“And who the fuck are you exactly?” Vox growled as you could feel the static in the edge of your skirts cling to your skin as the Overlord leaned over you. A show of intimidation as you gently returned the glass to its coaster.

“Lucifer’s secretary. Now, would you like to leave a message?” You replied sweetly as that answer seemed to deflate Vox’ temper by a hair. You weren’t affiliated with the Hotel in any capacity beyond Lucifer, which meant you weren’t affiliated with HIM. Oh, wasn’t he terribly clever as he gestured to the ragged coat.

“You’re Lucifer’s secretary, but you dress like this? Take a position at Voxtech and you’ll be flush with cash. If you play your cards right.” Vox explained as he placed an unwelcome hand on your shoulder that you were quick to brush away with a scowl. He even had the nerve to spin you back around in your chair as you faced the bar. The Overlord crowding your space without a single notion of boundaries.

“Scotch.” Vox barked at Husk, the bartender huffed at the order. He wasn’t some sort of dog that did tricks on command. The rattle of scotch decanter was all too loud as fingertips brushed over your face to make you look at the Overlord.

“Come on, what’s a little tour around the King’s office gonna do. Come on now.” Vox teased as you bit down the urge to respond with violence. Bitter ink whispered over your tongue as the Overlord’s other hand slid over your thigh. Far too close for comfort as you swallowed the bitter ink. You couldn’t fall apart now.

“I would like to keep my job. Now if you would remove your hand from my thigh. I am married..” You hissed as Vox laughed at your response.

“Married. In Hell. Hate to remind you of that, sweetheart, not sure if those sorts of vows mean anything down here.” Vox tutted as his grip on your face tightened. His request for a tour was turning into a demand as you pulled your face away from him.

“Oh, do try telling that to my husband, can’t get it through his skull. As damaged as that is.” You retorted as you removed the gloves from your hand. The brass ring on your finger caught in the light as Vox rolled his eyes.

“Besides, now why would I want to work for someone like you. Called my work a fucking puff peace followed by the apparent ‘dismissal’ of over half of Velvette’s love potion staff after sources revealed what exactly was in them. Coddled, old, semen and burnt bedspreads if I remember my wording correctly..” You hissed as if the insults were laid against you yesterday instead of all those years.

“Truth hurts doesn’t it.” You snarled as the glass in Vox’s hand shattered. Now you have sent the Overlord into a little fit. The lightbulbs behind the bar shattered as Husk protest was lost in the groaning noise of the walls. Ink trickled from the corner of your mouth as you staggered into an upright position. The drinks weren’t the best idea, but neither was running away from the irate Overlord.

“Oh, I thought I heard something pathetic.”

“You’re ALIV-E”

The glitched snarl went mute to your ears as you were hastily dragged behind the bar counter by Husk lest you become a part of the damage to the Hotel. Steel cables ripped from the walls, snapping like electric snakes as Alastor descended the stairs, green energy crackling from the microphone. The world went silent around you as bitter ink spilled fruitlessly from your lips as Husk tried to ask you a question. His ears pinning back was the last sight you had before the world went dark.

New Orleans: 1923

Jazz, cigar smoke and patrons floated about you as you narrowly avoided running into a stumbling patron as your drink’s tray rattled ominously. It would be the last straw if you dropped this tray as the expensive whiskey swayed in its protective glass as if swaying to the trumpets. Your destination is a trio of chain smoking gangsters who greeted you with a cheer as you set the drinks down. A pat on the butt and earning one dollar bill was your reward as you clutched the money to your chest. Their attention didn’t last long as a busty blonde on stage burst into another number, backed by thundering trumpets. You were quick to retreat from the table, tucking the cash into your camisole as the bartender barked further orders at you. The rest of the night was blur as you blissfully took a break to sip water tinged with lime. Alcohol didn’t agree with your mother, it wouldn’t with you. You didn’t take that chance.

Unfortunately you weren’t alone for long as a strong-looking hand flicked at the feather in your cream headband. Benson? Bronson? Regardless of the gentleman’s name, he was quick to call your attention as you forced a polite smile on your face. He was quick to press a kiss to your hand as you caught scant words over the thundering music.

A date? With him. Tonight. He had just purchased a new vehicle that he needed to take a real drive. Get its wheels muddy as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Blushing prettily you were too quick to decline with a shake of your head.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. I saw how you pocketed that cash, baby doll. I could make it worth your while.” His words were a rasp against your ear as his other hand slid up your leg. The threadbare stockings and patch jobs gave him all the information he needed to know about your financial status. Struggling, destitute, so like the select other women here willing to ply guests with other ‘offers’. Your stubborn pride made you want to kick off at the idea, but rent and bills were coming due. It was just one time, right?

“Apologies for being late, the cops are sniffing about tonight. Be a shame if Harry’s was caught out in it all.” A smooth voice broke through your thoughts as your intended suitor cursed under his breath before backing off. His quick retreat made it all the clearer that the trio wasn’t under the control of Mob Boss Gisno, but someone else entirely as you watched them scatter like a group of rats.

Further to the point there was something familiar about your eevedropper’s voice. You didn’t recognize him at all. Brown almost black hair curled neatly, deep brown eyes and taller than average stature made him almost indistinguishable. Yet it was the voice that was striking a cord in your mind.

“Ha, I'm afraid this happens often. People hear the voice, but draw a blank in person.” Your eavesdropper mused as he drained his glass of rye within a single blink of the eye. A practiced drinker it would seem as the truth forced itself to the front of your mind.

“You’re that radio host. Aren’t you? Stirred up a bit of controversy last week in response to some bluenose housewife protesting your local news taking precedence over some hacksaw politician’s newest election numbers.” You mused as the radio host’s lips curled into a faint smile. His hands raised in surrender as you laughed softly.

“Unless she is blind, she can read print like the rest of us. As difficult as some of that is to swallow these days.” You grumbled as you rolled your eyes far too often reading the morning papers. Even worse still was when the little paperboys swarmed you with the ‘true’ gossip as soon as you purchased it. Half of it was powdered sugar and the other was full of shit. As if the public needed more excitement in their lives than the present.

“Not a fan of the papers?” The host mused as he leaned forward on his hand. As if he didn’t expect to find another admirer of the media tonight, but what was he looking for then? It wasn’t going to be found at the bottom of a bottle.

“Reality has tainted my taste for fairy tales..” You muttered as you took a long drink of your water. The host chuckled before gesturing to the chaos surrounding you. Men and women in states of intoxication seeking something to hide away from the truth or some old wound.

“Now you sound like some crone. I imagine you have quite a few more years to pass through, my dear.” The host tutted as you scoffed in response. Some here could forget their troubles for the night, but it would catch up with them come morning.

“A radio host and fortune teller. What an exotic career you must lead.”

“I have the smallest amount of my mother’s talent. Besides, it’s written all over your face, you want to be anywhere else but here. New Orleans isn’t home is it?” The host prodded as you sheepishly ducked your head. No, it wasn’t. You grew up in northern New York, away from the Big Apple. After your Pa died, Mother couldn’t manage the forestry business, so she packed up her brood of kids to head to the city. Picked up the bottle too.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“No. You’re right, I arrived here a year ago. Finding my feet still it seems. Work has been harder to come by than I thought. No one wants a secretary with a mouth or unwillingness to play second fiddle to a housewife.” You muttered as bitterness coated the words. It was after the third time you impaled a handsy employer’s palm with a pen point that had soiled your reputation. Despite your quality work, no one wanted to be bit by a rabid bitch.

“When I find myself stuck, I like to look up at the stars.”

“Here, in the city? Those must be some glasses you have there.”

“No. Even been to the bayou, Miss. Stars like fire and mangroves towering around you make your problems seem all the smaller.”

“You must be a radio host with such poetic words like that. Able to make a bayou sound like a fairy tale. It can’t be that fantastical.”

“It is, if you were with the right person.”

Charming. Smooth. Able to match your sharp words with gentle persuasion. That was the first night you met Alastor in that smokey speakeasy. Him plucking topics out of you like he was fox finessing a chicken’s feathers.

“You good?”

Husker’s rough voice broke you from your trance as you hissed in discomfort when you tried to move. It felt like every single part of your body had been pricked by needles as you wiped away the trickle of ink from your lips. Husk was quick to grab you by the arm to hold you place as you tried to stand up. It was for the better as plaster crumbled from the wall behind you. You didn’t dare imagine the carnage that waited beyond the safety of the bar. Glass, plaster and other materials littered the floor in front of you as you could hear the crackle of electricity in the air.

“How long was I out?” You muttered as you tried to flex your fingers. Ignoring the prickling sensation as you forced the fatigued digits to respond.

“Bout thirty minutes. Happen often?” Husker pressed as you blinked at him once. His scoff was all the answer you needed. He knew that Sinners carried their burdens in all sorts of ways. A bit of a black out wasn’t unheard of it.

“Motherfucker!” The curse slipped from your lips as liquor bottles were smashed by an errant tentacle emerging from the wall, swiping out at glass bottles as their sticky contents rained down on your sheltering forms. Ignoring the prickle of alarm up your spine, you knocked against the ruined floor, a black burrow appeared underneath it. A furry brown arm stuck out as if waiting for paper

“I don’t have paper with me. Quick go fetch Lucifer, lest these territorial dogs wreak the entire hotel.” You hissed as the messenger gave a thumb’s up. A bark of laughter and parade of insults baited your curiosity to peer over the counter, much to Husk’s low protests.

“Getting slow on your feet old man.” Vox snarled as you couldn’t help flinch as the crackling wires snapped at Alastor’s side. Searing a hole in fabric as the radio demon retaliated by slipping a tentacle around his opponent’s legs to trip him up. It was a miracle the parlor still stood as Vox’s dismantling of the electrical system left crumbling plaster in its place, while Alastor was less than careful on where he spawned the rampaging tentacles that swung at anything in their vicinity.

You weren’t an architect, but you knew any further structural damage would send the newly rebuilt hotel crumbling. Visible relief flooded you as bright light burst in the center of the room, putting both combatants on their toes. A first several bewildered, overburdened imps with packages appeared, followed by Charlie’s shrill screech of protest as she took in the ruins about her. Vaggie beside her looked less than pleased, but by the far the biggest reaction came from Lucifer.

“Now sweetheart, what’s got you screeching like you are being bathed in boiling oil. Did you want something else from-. Oh.” Lucifer’s words trailed off as there was a sharp yelp from Vox as he was tripped up by a tentacle. Falling flat on his face much to Alastor’s joyful cackles that turned into a hiss as he was snapped at by the wires.

“MY PARLOR.” Charlie cried out as her eyes prickled with tears before lightly placing her hand against the crumbling front door. A wail escaping her as that gentle action sent the elegant panes to fragment into pieces.

“Now what happened here..” Lucifer’s voice was deathly calm as his eyes flicked to you as you carefully picked your way over from the bar wreckage. Your manicured nail jabbed in Vox’s prone form.

“He asked to speak with you.” A grumble escaped Vox as the Overlord raised his head in response, only to be stunned once more by a brick of falling plaster.

“He decided-”

“I don’t need to understand the petty feuds between Overlords. Like fucking children in a sandbox fighting over toys. I am ASKING what happened.” Lucifer hissed as he tugged you down by the collar of your coat. Oh, he was in rare form now.

“It appeared the Overlord known as Vox showed up without an appointment.” You stated bluntly as you flicked through your black book with a single brush of your fingertips. Thankfully Lucifer’s grip on your coat dropped after that. Laughter bubbled up from the King of Hell that sent ice down your spine.

“Why is it that you Sinners think you can do whatever you want here. All but ready to barge into my OFFICE without an APPOINTMENT. Has the entire hierarchy of Hell fallen within half the day I have been gone.” Lucifer snarled as he gestured to wreckage around him.

“I will say this once. Only once. Sinners don’t get to make demands in my kingdom. They make fucking appointments.” Lucifer snarled as he began to drag Vox over the rubble by the throat. What limited brain cells the Sinner had were working overtime as the Sinner forced himself to be as limp as a rabbit caught in the jaws of a lion. Even if it was painful as his screen-like face flickered colors when the Devil’s grip dragged him through sturdy stone and glass.

“He is never getting that fucking appointment if this puff piece author has anything to say about it..” You muttered under your breath as Husker chuckled at the snide comment. There was a sort of smugness about the bartender now as you both took in Alastor’s rougher shape, he hadn’t come out of the little spat unscathed. His left leg limped along as he leaned heavily on the cane as he did his best to clear the grit from his voice.

“Now, Charlie no need to fret, I’ll-”

“MY FUCKING WALL ALASTOR. Couldn’t you have taken it outside for once.” Charlie snapped as she whirled on her feet to face the dimming smile of the Radio Demon. Oh, this was going to be delightful as you and Husk posted up on the overturned bar stools as the Princess of Hell’s verbal rampage ran roughshod over the hotelier. Evidentially that section of the hotel had gone through very short lifespans as Charlie’s voice pitched in volume with each interrupting attempt from Alastor. Tears ran freely down the Princess’s face as Vaggie intervened with a clap of her hands, gently comforting her girlfriend as she pointed at the wreckage.

“Fix it.”

“Done.” Flat, direct without a single hint of sarcasm as you spied his injured wrist spasm uncomfortably as little souls began the tedious process of cleaning up.

A much calmer Lucifer returned moments later as he was quick to coddle his upset daughter. The pair were able to usher her up the half surviving portion of the main staircase as you gave a slow clap in the deafening quiet.

“Quite the show. Alastor. A day off well spent.” You announced as Alastor ran an agitated hand over his face.

“You still have half a day, don't ruin it.” Alastor hissed through clenched teeth as you nodded in agreement. Ruffled, Alastor was beyond ruffled after that little bout of combat. He was all but scolded like a disobedient guard dog by Charlie and in turn Vaggie. Were Lucifer’s words of Sinners ringing his ears now? The clear definition of Hell’s hierarchy.

Oh. This was delicious.

“A bath I think would be perfect. Do enjoy your little chores, Alastor.”

“Enjoy your bath, wife. It’s rather entertaining to see YOU play that card.” Alastor hissed as you forced a neutral expression on your face. Of all the drunken conversations he would have heard during your rants to Husk. It was that one, he had heard. The subtle deflection of your marriage to dissuade an arch rival of your ex-husband.

It was with that simple knowledge that your leg was once caught again in a bear trap. So, you had two choices, free yourself in the long painful process of prying it open or allow yourself to bleed out.

The metaphorical wound sputtered once as the back of his ring finger grazed over your hand as you stormed past him. Now you really needed that bath as you could feel guilt seep in with the sticky alcohol covering your ruined coat.

He had to have the last word in at least one situation today.

#hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #Alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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furniturestorenearme · 10 months

Text

#cheap and best furniture near me #furniture stores near me #best quality furniture #best furniture stores #online furniture #furniture shop #furniture stores #luxury furniture #modern furniture #office furniture #home furniture #bedroom

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maisonbelligavi · 8 months

Text

Bellingham is mad exhausted

BelliGavi Fic Drabble

Summary: Jude is physically exhausted, mentally drained and his shoulder hurts like a bitch.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gavi being the bestest boyfriend in the world, Jude being his spoilt big baby

Gavi has always been of the opinion that his boyfriend’s apartment was lifeless in a way that contradicted his personality. Jude was as warm as the sun, having him in your life automatically brightened it, and your world was painted with nothing but the most vivid of colors.

His luxurious apartment located in the heart of Madrid reflected none of Jude’s best qualities, as far as Gavi was concerned. It was as modern as they come, minimalist, and decorated with boring as-heck monochrome colors. Gavi hadn’t honest to God known there were this many shades of gray, but he’s learned alright.

Suffice it to say, he had a love/hate relationship with the apartment. By virtue of it being the place where Jude lived, it has become a safe space. As much as the charcoal gray couch irritated him, it also happened to be the piece of furniture where he and Jude would settle in for hours, either making out, playing games or just cuddling after their respective grueling schedules.

As much as he held the opinion that the kitchen was depressingly morose, he and his obnoxious boyfriend were always in it, trying to figure out complex recipes they had no business attempting to cook in the first place. There were days they ended up with somewhat edible dishes, other times, their only viable option would be to order in.

As he used his key card and let himself in at the present moment, his gaze darted everywhere as it always did when he stepped into the living room, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. Within seconds, the place was already redecorated in his head. It was a game he liked to play that always took away his irritation.

He registered how quiet the place was as he proceeded to Jude’s bedroom. He hadn’t exactly told his boyfriend he was coming over. It was meant to be a surprise as Jude had informed him yesterday that he had a couple of free days. Also, he’d clocked how exhausted the older boy sounded and Gavi knew he had to come over and check on him.

Jude hadn’t necessarily complained, but then he rarely did. Getting him to actually open up about his physical or mental state over a phone call was next to impossible. But then the second he set eyes on Gavi; it became a completely different case. He clung to him, whined about every little thing like the big baby he was.

So, it came as no surprise to Gavi when he walked into the unnecessarily large master bedroom and found Jude buried under his pristinely white bed covers. He was lying on his stomach, one side of his face resting on a fluffed-up pillow. His iPad lay beside him, some song Gavi wasn’t familiar with playing on YouTube.

Jude seemed to pay it no mind though, his gaze was vacant, fixated on his closet which was at the far opposite end of the room. The expression on his face was stony, and Gavi had to bite back a grin as he knelt on the side of the bed, one hand coming to rest on the back of his boyfriend’s head, playing with the short hair. He didn’t know what it was about an aggressively sulking Bellingham that endeared him to the older boy.

Gavi continued to stare at his boyfriend from his kneeling position, softly playing with his hair.

Meanwhile, Jude refused to spare him a glance, still finding his closet a lot more interesting subject to stare at.

Gavi realized that he was dealing with a code-red situation. Yeah, Bellingham was in full-blown brat mode alright.

“Baby,” Gavi called out softly, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Jude responded by making a sound that seemed to be a bridge between a growl and a rumble.

“Baby, I’m afraid I don’t speak caveman,” Gavi said, biting back a wayward laugh. “Let’s try again, yeah? But with actual words this time.”

“Mad,” Jude grunted.

“Why are you mad?” Gavi’s hand traveled lower and his fingers circled the back of Jude’s neck, squeezing lightly, causing Jude’s eyes to slip shut momentarily.

“Mad exhausted,” Jude said through gritted teeth, his speech still very much garbled.

“Wait, are you super exhausted or are you mad because you’re exhausted?”

“Both.”

Gavi couldn’t hold it in any longer. He began laughing, his head resting on the edge of the bed as Jude finally deemed him worthy of a nasty glare. “You’re such a big baby, Bellingham,” Gavi said, tone dripping with fondness. “A spoilt princess through and through.”

Jude made another unintelligible sound, gaze darkening as though he was trying to murder Gavi using telekinesis.

“I thought we already established that I don’t speak caveman.” Gavi climbed on the bed, sitting Indian-style next to his sulking boyfriend. “Is something else the matter?”

Jude nodded but didn’t elaborate.

“It’s your shoulder, isn’t it?” Gavi enquired, placing his hand on the body part in question.

“Shoulder,” Jude confirmed with a nod. He let out a series of ah’s as Gavi’s fingers pressed into the sore muscles.

“Took your painkillers?”

“Yup.”

“You do know you can’t keep this up, right?” Gavi said, tone soft and laden with concern. “Jude, you need surgery.”

More undecipherable noises followed and Gavi merely shook his head, chuckling. “I am guessing that’s a hard no. How about a massage? I can help out with one.”

Another nod was the only thing Gavi got as a reply.

“Alright then,” he said, jumping off the bed.

He grabbed the essentials and got to work, humming along to the current song playing from Jude’s iPad. The YouTube app was still streaming and he hadn’t bothered to close it.

As his expert fingers kneaded into flesh, digging into especially sensitive spots, Jude kept letting out these disgruntled sounds and Gavi kept apologizing and promising it would soon be over.

“There, all done,” Gavi said in an overly cheerful tone, clapping in good measure. When he saw the way Jude winced at his display of high energy, it only made him grin.

Gavi took off his jacket and finally slipped under the covers, ready to cuddle his boyfriend. He didn’t have to ask whether Jude wanted to be the little spoon. In his current mood, that went without saying.

So Gavi laid on his side and pulled Jude’s larger frame into his body, with no help at all from the older boy. Which was no small feat. Jude Bellingham was anything but light.

“I swear if I didn’t love you as much as I do, I’d have dumped your spoilt ass, like yesterday.”

Somehow, this was the thing that made Jude burst into a series of giggles as he fitted himself snugly into Gavi’s body.

“Oh, so you’re laughing now, huh?” Gavi glared at the exasperating British boy in his arms, watching the wayward smile playing at the corners of his lips. “We’re now going to stream K-pop songs by the way, and I don’t want to hear a single word of protest from you.”

After they spent an hour consuming the stunning visuals and highly energetic choreos of idols, Jude finally uttered a complete sentence.

“Gavira, I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you think someone can drop dead from fatigue?” Jude said, tone rough from lack of use. “Like, how much exhaustion do you think the human body can take before it shuts down?”

This gave Gavi pause, he thought about the sheer number of games Jude has played ever since he joined Madrid, how he’s been pushing his body beyond the limit in each one, how he’s hyper-conscious of how much Madrid are depending on him, the immense trust placed on shoulders that badly needed a breather.

Gavi grabbed his face by the jaw and tilted it in his direction. He placed a quick kiss on his forehead, the tip of his nose, and each of his cheeks. By the time he got to his lips, Jude was smiling through the lingering kiss.

“I know it feels impossibly heavy sometimes,” Gavi murmured, gaze intense on his face, “but that never means you can’t carry it. Do you hear me?”

Jude nodded, “I hear you,” he whispered, and then they were kissing some more, cocooned in the intimacy of the moment.

It made Gavi think, perhaps Jude was exhausted enough that he could get him to finally agree. Well, it was at least worth a shot.

“Baby, this amazing concept just popped into my head—”

“Not fucking happening, Gavira.”

“But Juuuuuuude…”

“In case I didn’t make myself clear over the last two hundred times we’ve had this conversation—” Jude took a meaningful pause to kiss away his boyfriend’s pout, “—my apartment is getting a makeover by you over my cold stinking corpse.”

#belligavi #jude x gavi #football fics #jude bellingham #pablo gavi #gavi #fluff #hurt/comfort #writers on tumblr #this is very soft

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mudgazing · 8 months

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TF141 HOME DECOR HC'S

Ghost:

(I like to think that Soap and Ghost are roomies, so they compromise on a lot of their flats’ decor)

His bedroom though? Dark colors for the win

Charcoal gray sheets and comforter

Considered painting the walls gray but decided

Wanted skeleton sheets as a joke (not), but couldn’t find one to fit his bed so he settled with a decorative throw

100% has a window that he only opens to peek at whatever bullshit’s going on in the street

Both of them have a display cabinet they share

Simon’s side is full of his fave knives and “chest candy” (medals) neatly lined up

Soap:

Johnny’s side of the display cabinet has old campaign polaroids and some silly little souvenirs

Light blue walls and tartan sheets for sure

Messy organized, but it works

Definitely has a clothes chair and to-do lists tacked onto a corkboard

Simon can’t wrap his head around his method of organization. Stopped asking questions a loooong time ago

Stacks of used and unused sketchbooks on the nightstand

Has a minifridge so he can get a ‘nip in the night’

Ghost jokes about swaddling him like a baby and giving him liquor to nurse on (no pun intended)

Has a photo of Graves he throws darts at as stress relief. He’s good, but not as good as Ghost so there are a couple tiny dents on the walls

Gaz:

The award for coziest bachelor pad goes to …

Flat smells GOOD. Like that gentle, fresh laundry smell

Type of guy who has a spreadsheet tracking all of the furniture he wants to buy off FB marketplace (Price put him on)

Sad that he can never own plants since he’s away often

Has a few things mostly for ‘easy maintenance’ (out of sight, out of mind)

Makes sure these few things look and feel high quality. Won’t settle for less

Blue sheets with tiny mid blue stripes

Ghost and Soap don’t understand why he owns art but agree it looks neat

Definitely has a balcony with a small chair specifically for smoking and thinking

Only things he has on his nightstand are a lamp, metal cigarette holder and matching ashtray Price gifted him

Price:

This man has a house … and that house is his baby

Especially the front yard. Do NOT fuck with his front yard

Subconsciously anti-lawn and has a beautiful low maintenance garden

Has beef with his neighbors (cause of said garden). Shoots the shit about them with Gaz on his front porch

Shed for all his handy shit. If Gaz picks up some furniture for his crib he will turn it into ‘father-son bonding time’

The interior? Rustic and neutral, with modern touches ... nice n' warm

Mid century modern enthusiast. Fell down that rabbit hole once he joined Pinterest and never came back out. This man has probably had Pinterest since it's inception -- his username is probably his first and last name XD

Burgundy comforter vibes. One of those soft, smooth quilted ones.

His office’s desk is his prized possession. It's one of the fancy wooden ones with the mini built-in drawers on top. Keeps his best cigars along with stationary there

Photos of his boys (sons) of course

Definitely has a bankers’ lamp

#cod #cod headcanons #captain john price #john soap mactavish #soap cod #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #call of duty modern warfare #this has been steaming in the drafts 🔥

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ar3s-r4t-qu33n · 18 days

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Why I Think Sissy's Bedroom Was The Luggage Room

Also Thoroughfare and Sissy Slaughter (especially with my Family OC that I made specifically to be her best friend and how they met on the road) >>>>

Also I apologise if any of the GIFs or pictures are of shitty quality, this is QUITE the post, apparently-

So one thing that has always annoyed me about The Family House, especially since we now have Nancy's House, is that not everyone has a bedroom!! And I know it doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, but to me it does!! Grandpa, Drayton and Nubbins all have rooms, and Nubbins' room is the biggest and has plenty of room for two (also in Museum Mode, which, as I've previously stated, I believe to be what the House canonically looks like outside of the puzzles and regular in-game functionality, there's a second mattress in Nubbins' room that could have once been Choptop/Bobby's).

But yeah, Sissy and Bubba lack bedrooms. Now, Bubba has since moved to the basement, which has a number of beds in it, so we know he at least has somewhere to rest his head. I choose to think that the Study was Bubba's childhood bedroom that Drayton has since turned into a second office for himself.

But either way, he know Bubba has a bedroom somewhere, even if it has changed.

But then...

Where did Sissy sleep growing up?

We know that she lived at the Family House when she grew up because she ran away from there when she was in her teens or early twenties. Which means she had a bedroom. Now, it's possible that she shared a room with the twins since some people think that they are triplets, but I personally believe Sissy to be slightly older than the twins, but share the same mother (I have made three different family trees for the game's family 🧍 and I know the whole point is that we don't know HOW they're a family, only that they ARE a family, but my dumb ass likes concrete connections so if y'all wanna see those, let me know). I also feel like with that many rooms, they could surely carve out a space for their only daughter, surely? So, if not with the twins, and if there's no room now...

Where did Sissy sleep and what happened to her room?

Here's my proposal; The Luggage Room.

Firstly, this is one of the only rooms inside the house that have a Poison Station for our gal to use. There's one in the back porch area, which makes sense. Kinda like a conservatory with plenty of sunlight for her plants, but it only holds one... Sprig? Of her poison. There's another in the basement, but like, what business does she have being down there? None! That's Bubba's domain, it's likely down there just so she has more poison nearby for gameplay reasons. But upstairs, there are two sprigs (?) and it feels a little more tucked away. There's something about the way that her Stations are designed that feels girlish and cosy, like as a child, she painted those flowers and as she got older, got better at drying flowers and making and preserving things for it. Not to mention all the boxes underneath with the bone charm, it's very "this demands space, but we don't really want to acknowledge that space", it's being used for storage, it's in a corner, it likely scarcely gets used anymore.

Also I don't think the fusebox is usually in here. Again, it's for gameplay variety, I headcanon that it actually always is in the room next to Nubbins', it feels like a space carved out for electronics.

There's also the fact that this is called the Luggage Room.

These people don't travel!!!

And yes, I know, this could be luggage from victims, but they already have a bunch of that piled up in the Den. For a 'luggage room', there isn't a lot of luggage in it at all! Three little trunks. One big one. The rest is wrecked furniture and bone art. For a luggage room, you'd expect it to be full of suitcases and trunks and backpacks, but no. Four. That's it. (Unless I'm missing one or two, but my point still stands!!!)

Now, I'm not saying this room is called the Luggage Room because Sissy travels, luggage = travels, therefore luggage room = Sissy's bedroom. But for being a room name for its purpose, it doesn't serve its purpose very well.

But if it's "the luggage room", something Drayton muttered to someone once when they asked, or when Sissy demanded to know why her room was destroyed he just made something up on the spot, it'd make more sense than just taking it at face value.

There's also the sheer state of disrepair that this room is in. I think this room has the most damage of any other in the Family House, even the basement is more structurally sound. But I believe the reason for this is more story or character driven than anything else.

No one is happy that Sissy left. Every single member of the family is pissed off or upset that she ran away, and Johnny and Nancy are even more angry that she came back (Johnny because she could have started a new life, something he's always wanted to do, but failed and came back, and Nancy because... Internalised misogyny and Boy Mom Syndrome™-)

I think that once they realised she was gone, after a few days went by and the realisation dawned on them that she wasn't coming back?

Someone, or maybe multiple people, took their anger out on her room.

But who would have done that?

In my mind, there are four candidates.

1. Bubba

We know our sweet lil skin wearing boy doesn't exactly handle his emotions super well. We also know that he is extremely protective of his family, and that Sissy is (in my opinion, going from voice lines alone) possibly the only member of the family who loves him unconditionally apart from maybe Nubbins. Drayton is Drayton, Johnny is nice to him, but does see him as a killing machine, Nancy babies him and we can assume that Hands really cares for him (I actually think that Bubba would be Hands' favourite if not for Johnny), but he communicates in growls and purrs (very hot growls and purrs, mind you, but growls and purrs nonetheless), so we don't know for sure.

Sissy is his sweet big sister. She's kind to him, genuinely, no strings attached. I also headcanon that she gives him her old makeup and seeing her get dolled up made him want to start doing it too, but that's besides the point. Sissy, like everyone in that family, means the world to him. And so when he finds out she's... Gone? That she abandoned him, him, her baby brother?

He just can't help himself. It was an accident, of course, a tantrum, one he immediately regretted and thus tried to cover up with newspaper and cardboard, but the damage was done. I think he is probably the only person Sissy would forgive for doing this to her room. I also believe he is the only one capable of cutting a hole like that in the wall, which is why he's the first candidate on my list.

2. Nubbins

Honestly? I think he's least likely. But he's here at spot number 2 because he's not as interesting as Bubba's reasons and I have better ones on the way, so it's a forgettable spot and it's my list, okay? I can format it any way I want, bitch.

Nubbins and Sissy get on well enough. He irritates her, definitely, but she matches his crazy and he's her lil brother, albeit far more annoying than Bubba and Bobby. He's angry at her for leaving, but he doesn't harp on about it, only mentioning it once and using it more to brag about how close he is to Grandpa than to make her feel bad. He actually cares about her travels and references stories she's obviously told him, meaning that not only does he listen and take an interest in her life, but that she trusts him enough to tell him about something that clearly means a lot to her.

He's not angry, really, and definitely not enough to destroy her room. But I also think he's far more torn up about Bobby!! That's his twin brother, gone to Vietnam, of course he's more upset at him going and eager to have him back than his big sister running off to see the world. It's interesting that Nubbins' voice lines for Choptop are the only ones we have yet to hear, but I'm banking on him being elated that he's home rather than being angry that he left. Also this will be the first time we get to see the twins together in any capacity, like they have never interacted on screen before, I can't wait!!!

3. Johnny

We know from the Lore Stream that Johnny and Sissy used to be very close when they were younger, but once she ran away, Johnny felt betrayed, and even more so when she came back.

He wants nothing more than to leave this behind and live a normal life. But he knows, deep down, that Nancy is right; he wasn't born a Slaughter, but he was raised as one, and he can't pretend that he wasn't. He is Family, and so he doesn't even try to leave. Apart from trips with Uncle Hands, he's stuck here and he knows it.

So when Sissy leaves, that hurts enough, his closest cousin (in my headcanon) running off and doing what he wants to do.

But then she ruins it for herself. Starts killing, joins cults, gets messy. She's the Terror of I-40, and people know her face. She can't just go back out there, not really. So she fucked up, and now she's blown her chances out there and has to come back. And she's different now, she believes crazy things and talks about stuff Johnny will never experience and has seen places he could only dream of, but even still, she's back here now, just like the rest of them. She proves to him that even if he did go? He'd still be a fucked up serial killer, and he'd eventually get himself caught. So, really, better stay home, huh?

But I don't know if he'd wreck her room over it. He's volatile, sure, but I don't see him doing that. He has other ways to get his anger out, probably drinking and killing, he doesn't need to destroy her stuff. But his reaction to her and their relationship and how it's changed is super interesting. I don't personally ship the two, no judgment if you do and I can definitely see the appeal if they weren't cousins, blood related or not, but the way they have changed and the way they went from being super close to almost enemies is so interesting. I also headcanon that Johnny leverages some of Sissy's guilt about leaving him and the others in order to get her to help him kidnap and hide Maria, but that's not exactly relevant rn-

4. Drayton

Something I find really interesting about Drayton in comparison to everyone else is that he just wants Sissy to stay home.

"why can't you just stick with the family"

Nancy wants her gone, doesn't care about her at all, Johnny's angry that she came back, Nubbins is largely ambivalent to the whole thing. But Drayton wants her to stay, and is more than willing to say that (albeit, indirectly. I think he'd rather eat Nancy's boiled and unseasoned dinner than admit his real, actual feelings to his family). He worries about her out there, in his own way ("I ain't never trusted that trash you scurry around with"), and obviously he didn't turn her away at the door upon her return.

We also know that Drayton has a few interesting habits. @/ofthehands (idk if they're comfortable being tagged) on here has some amazing character analysies of Drayton (specifically from the films, but I feel like it applies here too), and one especially that references his childhood and his habit for hoarding which I really recommend. But it makes sense, at least to me, that he would be the one to shove a bunch of crap into her old room and fill the space, especially in an attempt to remain 'unfeeling' about her running off.

There's also, again, the fact that the room has been patched up after the damage was done. Ever-practical Drayton would absolutely see to it that the rook was fixed up as soon as possible, you know, to keep the house looking "nice".

I can see him going in there after the realisation kicks in. His little and only sister (again, going off my family tree). Gone. Left. Because she wanted more? Because she was different? Because she was unhappy? He doesn't understand. Hasn't he tried to make this house a home? Hasn't he done so much for them all? Hasn't he always? And he just... Blacks out. Comes to with the room completely battered. Never speaks of it, orders Bubba and Nubbins to clear the place out, but won't let them touch her flower table. He didn't touch it either. He doesn't know why. But over the next few months, he patches it up to the best of his abilities and, when he needs space for his collections, he shoves them in there. It's just a room now, right? Gotta be practical about it.

I think it could have been any one of them, or even a combination. Maybe Bubba and Drayton had the same idea, same reaction. Who knows. But it's destroyed now, and Sissy has nowhere to sleep. I imagine now she takes one of the sofas downstairs.

Now, here's something that is VERY English student of me, but I didn't get those two A* for nothing, and I'm not getting my degree for nothing either, so here we go:

Outside the Luggage Room are these two birds. These models are not unique to this area or even this map, but what is unique about them is the way they are placed. In regular gameplay, we pass by this spot so many times, it's kinda hard to notice or care about it. But once I noticed it, and especially once I saw it in Museum Mode and private custom matches, I fell completely in love with it.

There is a light that casts the shadows of the birds on the slanted ceilings, making this corner just so... Idk, special?? To me???

But it means something to me that this corner is right outside the Luggage Room. Birds symbolise a lot of things, but most commonly, freedom.

Sissy longs for freedom and adventure, she wants to break free from the Slaughter House and her family and be her own person. But when she tries, she is immediately forced to become everything she seemingly didn't want to be because the world was not a place of adventure or fun. It was dark, and bleak, and full truckers who wanted something from her, something she didn't want to give, something she had to kill to protect...

And then her hands were bloody. Of course she knew how to kill, she's a Slaughter for god's sake. But was this her first? Did she just hop out of the truck and keep going on her way? Or did she sit there?

Sit there with this body, shaking, terrified, because she just killed someone. All on her own, and she's too far from home to get help getting rid of his guy or to bring him back for dinner. She can't go home now, and prove Drayton right. She has to keep going. If only she could snap out of it.

We know how her years away go. But when she's back, she doesn't want to stay. Has no plans on doing so. She's still that bird, longing to get away from all of this, give it one more go.

But, just like those birds in that corner, she can never be her real self. She will always be a shadow of a person, scurrying from place to place after slitting a throat or stealing a new dress, she can never be truly free, she will always be held back by who she is, who she was raised to be. She will never leave the birdcage; she is just like the rest of them, only she has a string tied around her ankle that lets her fly just that little bit further, the illusion of adventure.

I know that last point isn't proof that the room is hers. But it feels to me like a little hint at something, that whoever lives in that room is a songbird dying to take to the skies and never go back.

Just like Johnny, Sissy is a Slaughter. She can't just forget that. She can't just pretend she's someone else, it is as much a part of her as her own skin. So even if she tries, there will always be a tell, always be something not quite right about her, like they can smell it on her.

She just has to hope that they won't mind the stench.

... Oh wow that was a yap sesh huh-

#i feel BIG THINGS about Sissy Slaughter okay??? 😭#also until I'm given a canon alternative I choose to see her Wildflower shirt dress as her pyjamas #like it looks so cosy to sleep in!!!#sissy slaughter #sissy tcm #tcm game #tcm #johnny slaughter #drayton slaughter #nubbins slaughter #bubba slaughter

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inlite-furnishing · 14 days

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Discover the Best Furnishing Store in Calicut for Your Dream Home

When it comes to transforming your living space, finding the right furnishings can make all the difference. If you're in search of quality, style, and variety, look no further than the best furnishing store in Calicut. With a wealth of options ranging from modern minimalistic pieces to luxurious and traditional styles, this city offers everything you need to turn your home into a masterpiece.

Why Furnishings Matter

Furnishing a home is more than just filling it with furniture. It’s about creating an atmosphere that reflects your personality and style. Whether you're decorating your living room, bedroom, dining space, or office, the right furnishings help enhance the ambiance, improve functionality, and increase comfort.

The best furnishing store in Calicut not only provides a wide range of choices but also offers expert guidance in choosing the right pieces for your specific needs. Quality is key when it comes to long-term investments, and the top stores ensure that you get durable, aesthetically pleasing items that stand the test of time.

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From elegant sofas and chic coffee tables to sophisticated dining sets and bedroom furniture, the best furnishing stores in Calicut cater to a variety of tastes and preferences. Whether you prefer a contemporary or a more classic look, you’ll find it here. Plus, these stores stock both local and international brands, giving you access to the best designs from across the globe.

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In recent years, sustainable furnishing has gained popularity, and leading stores in Calicut are embracing this trend. From eco-friendly materials to energy-efficient production methods, they offer furniture that is both stylish and good for the planet.

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With the new year around the corner, some key trends in furnishings are set to take over:

Minimalistic Designs: Clean lines, neutral colors, and minimalist designs are in high demand. These create an uncluttered and serene environment, perfect for those who want to bring calmness to their living spaces.

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Inlite Furnishing – Your One-Stop Solution

If you're looking for a store that combines quality, innovation, and style, Inlite Furnishing is the go-to choice in Calicut. As the best furnishing store in Calicut, we pride ourselves on offering a curated selection of the finest furniture and decor. Our products not only meet the highest standards of quality but also reflect the latest design trends to help you create the home of your dreams.

At Inlite Furnishing, we believe in making luxury accessible. Whether you're furnishing an entire home or looking for a statement piece to complete your space, we have something to suit every taste and budget. From contemporary and minimalist to classic and traditional, our diverse collection will inspire you to create a space that’s uniquely yours.

Visit Inlite Furnishing today and let us help you turn your house into a home!

#HomeDecor #InteriorDesign #FurnitureDesign #LivingRoomDecor #HomeInspiration

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lyncotek · 1 month

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Introduction: Using Mirror mounting tape is a creative method to swiftly and effortlessly transform your space without the need for screws or nails.

Advantages of Using Mirror Mounting Tape Easy Installation The days of intricate mounting hardware causing trouble are long gone. The installation process is easy and hassle-free with mirror mounting adhesive. You can connect your mirror securely to any surface in a matter of minutes, which will save you time and effort.

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Choosing the Right Mirror Mounting Tape: Weight capacity, surface compatibility, and weather resistance are important considerations when choosing mirror mounting tape.

Weight Capacity: To make sure your mirror can handle the weight, find out its weight before buying mirror mounting tape. Make sure the tape you purchase can withstand the weight of the mirror, as most tapes have a weight capacity listed.

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Weather Resistance Select weather-resistant mirror mounting adhesive if you’re installing a mirror in a bathroom or other damp outdoor area. In humid situations, this will assist guarantee a strong adhesion between the tape and the surface.

Step-by-Step Guide to Mounting Mirrors with Mirror Mounting Tape Clean the Surface: First, make sure the area where the mirror will be mounted is very clean. Clear away any debris, dirt, or dust that might impede the tape’s adherence.

Cut the Tape: Cut the mirror mounting tape to the required length with scissors or a utility knife. To guarantee a snug fit, make sure to measure precisely.

Apply the Tape to the Mirror: Remove the tape’s backside and carefully affix it to the mirror’s back. To guarantee that the tape makes good contact with the mirror, apply pressure.

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Let it Cure: Hanging weight on the mirror should be delayed until the mirror mounting tape has had time to cure. By doing this, the tape and the surface will be guaranteed to cling firmly and securely.

Creative Ways to Use Mirror Mounting Tape Decorating Walls: Create a gallery wall of mirrors in your living room or bedroom by using mirror mounting tape. Combine various sizes and shapes to create a distinctive and fashionable effect.

Organizing Spaces: Put mirrors in your closet or entrance to make a useful area for glancing in before leaving the house. Mirrors are another useful tool for visually enlarging tiny areas and giving them a feeling of more openness.

DIY Projects: Use mirror mounting tape creatively by making mirrored accent pieces or furniture as part of your do-it-yourself projects. Mirror mounting tape offers endless opportunities for incorporating mirrors into your home’s design thanks to its powerful adhesive qualities.

Maintenance Tips for Mirrors Mounted with Mirror Mounting Tape To ensure your mirrors stay securely mounted and looking their best, follow these maintenance tips:

Regular Cleaning: Regularly wipe off your mirrors with a soft, moist cloth to keep them spotless and clear of smudges and grime.

Avoiding Heavy Impacts :Avoid shoving or bumping into tape-mounted mirrors since this can eventually erode the glue.

Checking Tape Integrity: Periodically inspect the mirror mounting tape for any signs of wear or damage, and replace it if necessary to maintain a secure hold.

Safety Considerations While mirror mounting tape offers a convenient and secure way to hang mirrors, it’s essential to observe safety precautions to prevent accidents or damage.

Weight Limitations: Mirror mounting tape should always be used in accordance with the weight restrictions listed by the manufacturer. The mirror may fall if the weight capacity is exceeded, compromising the tape’s security.

Avoiding Placement in High-Traffic Areas: Avoid mounting mirrors with tape in high-traffic areas where they may be bumped or knocked into frequently, as this can weaken the adhesive bond.

Checking for Loose Ends Regularly: Regularly look for any indications of loosening or peeling around the attached mirror’s edges. Reapply the tape as necessary to provide a tight hold if you see any problems.

Conclusion Mirror mounting tape makes it easier than ever to use mirrors to transform your area. Mirrors provide elegance and practicality to any area in your house, and they are simple to install, damage-free to mount, and incredibly useful. Mirror mounting tape provides an easy-to-use and efficient way to install mirrors securely without using screws or nails, whether you’re doing DIY projects, organizing areas, or decorating walls.

#mirror mounting tape #damage-free mounting #easy installation #versatile adhesive #wall mounting #mirror installation #DIY home decor #adhesive tape #home improvement #mounting solutions

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school56df · 1 month

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Transform Your Space: Top Home Decor Trends for 2024 best color combinations for bedroom walls

Best color combinations for bedroom walls as we step into 2024, domestic decor continues to adapt, reflecting a mix of undying elegance and progressive functionality. This yr’s developments exhibit a deep appreciation for craftsmanship, sustainability, and personal expression. Here’s a comprehensive guide to the key domestic decor developments of 2024, imparting insights on how to refresh and increase your dwelling areas.

Sustainable Materials and Eco-Friendly Design

Modern farmhouse home decor ideas sustainability remains at the leading edge of domestic decor in 2024. Homeowners are an increasing number of looking for substances and designs that lessen environmental impact. Expect to look a rise inside the use of reclaimed timber, recycled metals, and natural fibers. Furniture made from sustainable assets, consisting of bamboo or reclaimed wood, is gaining reputation. These materials not most effective provide a completely unique aesthetic however also contribute to a more eco-aware life-style.

Eco-pleasant layout extends to decor items as nicely. Look for textiles crafted from natural cotton, hemp, and linen. Recycled glass and ceramics are making waves within the realm of home add-ons, imparting each fashion and a story of environmental stewardship. As greater human beings end up privy to their ecological footprint, the call for for sustainable and ethically sourced domestic decor is predicted to upward push.

Biophilic Design: Bringing the Outdoors In

Biophilic design, the practice of connecting interiors with nature, is still a distinguished fashion in 2024. This approach focuses on incorporating natural factors into domestic decor to beautify nicely-being and create a relaxing environment. Expect to peer an growth in indoor plant life, herbal mild optimization, and the usage of organic shapes and substances.

Incorporating indoor plants is extra than just a trend—it’s a lifestyle choice. Popular houseplants for 2024 encompass the Monstera, Fiddle Leaf Fig, and Snake Plant, each known for his or her air-purifying qualities and hanging appearance. Green partitions and vertical gardens also are making a dash, providing lush, colourful focal factors inside residing areas.

Neutral Palettes with Bold Accents

Neutral color palettes stay a staple, but 2024 introduces a sparkling take via combining them with bold, assertion-making accents. Expect to look heat taupes, creamy whites, and soft grays forming the base of interiors, complemented via colourful colorings like emerald green, deep military, and wealthy burgundy. These formidable accents can be delivered through add-ons including throw pillows, rugs, or art portions, taking into consideration clean updates and personalization.

Textured neutrals are also trending, with substances like bouclé, linen, and tender wool adding intensity and hobby to monochromatic schemes. This approach provides a sophisticated backdrop for dynamic accessory pieces, developing a balanced and visually attractive surroundings.

Vintage and Retro Revival

The allure of antique and unfashionable design is experiencing a resurgence in 2024. Mid-century modern fixtures, art deco accents, and nostalgic styles are making a return. This fashion celebrates the appeal and craftsmanship of past eras at the same time as integrating them into present day settings.

Vintage-inspired portions, inclusive of curved sofas, geometric rugs, and vintage lights, are being reimagined with a contemporary twist. Thrifted finds and vintage markets are popular resources for particular decor objects that upload man or woman and records to homes. Combining antique portions with contemporary factors creates a curated appearance that feels both undying and clean.

Smart Home Integration

As era keeps to enhance, smart domestic integration turns into increasingly seamless. In 2024, clever home devices are designed to mixture resultseasily with domestic decor. Sleek, unobtrusive designs make certain that era enhances in place of detracts from the cultured of a area.

Smart lighting fixtures systems, voice-managed assistants, and automatic climate control are only a few examples of the way technology is being included into domestic decor. These systems are not simplest functional however also customizable, permitting owners to create personalised environments that adapt to their desires and choices.

Artisanal Craftsmanship

Handmade and artisanal objects are highly prized in 2024. There is a developing appreciation for craftsmanship and the precise traits of handmade items. Artisanal decor, from handwoven rugs to handcrafted ceramics, provides a non-public touch and helps local artisans.

This trend emphasizes the value of talent and way of life, with a focal point on excellent and individuality. Handmade pieces often function imperfections that add to their appeal, making every object a one-of-a-kind addition to your private home. Incorporating artisanal decor fosters a feel of authenticity and connection to the creative technique in the back of every piece.

Flexible and Multi-Functional Spaces

The concept of flexible and multi-useful areas is gaining momentum in 2024. As houses turn out to be increasingly more adaptable to various desires, the point of interest shifts toward furnishings and layouts that provide versatility. Modular furniture, foldable portions, and convertible rooms are key elements on this trend.

For instance, a visitor room can double as a domestic workplace, way to a fold-down desk or a Murphy bed. Modular sofas permit for reconfiguration depending at the event, and multipurpose garage solutions help preserve areas organized and litter-free. This technique maximizes capability without compromising on style, catering to the dynamic needs of modern-day living.

Maximalist Accents

While minimalism continues to be famous, there is a developing trend toward maximalist decor in 2024. This fashion embraces abundance and eclecticism, encouraging the mixture of bold patterns, vibrant colorations, and diverse textures. Maximalist decor is all approximately expressing personality and creativity through a curated collection of items.

Think layered rugs, statement wallpaper, and an array of decorative items. The key to a hit maximalism is stability; mix patterns and colors in a way that feels intentional as opposed to chaotic. This fashion allows for personal expression and creates areas which can be visually stimulating and uniquely reflective of their occupants.

Art Deco Revival

Art Deco is making a amazing comeback in 2024, with its expensive and sumptuous fashion being reinterpreted for modern interiors. Characterized by using geometric shapes, wealthy colorations, and elegant materials, Art Deco provides a hint of glamour to any area.

Incorporate Art Deco factors via declaration lighting fixtures, mirrored surfaces, and velvet fixtures. Metallic finishes like gold and brass, together with formidable patterns, contribute to the state-of-the-art charm of this style. Art Deco accents can remodel a room into a glamorous retreat, ideal for folks that admire a hint of vintage luxurious.

Personalized Spaces

Finally, 2024 emphasizes the significance of creating customized spaces that mirror character tastes and life. Customization is prime, with homeowners in search of methods to make their interiors uniquely their own. This fashion entails choosing decor that resonates for my part, whether or not through custom furnishings, bespoke artwork, or curated collections.

Eco-friendly home decoration personalized spaces are about extra than simply aesthetics—they're about developing environments that foster comfort and pleasure. Incorporating private mementos, significant paintings, and custom-designed factors ensures that each room seems like a true mirrored image of its population.

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