#third floor butlers

[herri-writes]

꧁Devil Butler with Black Cat Masterlist꧂

Devil's Palace Butlers

My Nocturnal Serenade - Devil Butler x Reader

Whispers In Your Sleep - Devil Butler x Reader

Bakla Sa Starbucks - Devil Butler x Reader Modern AU (Crack)

Master's Diary

Drunk French Lucas - Akuneko incorrect quotes

More Akuneko Incorrect Quotes With Kiit's Fic - Akuneko incorrect quotes

First Floor Butlers

Berrien Cliane

How To Apply Lip Balm With Berrien Cliane - Berrien Cliane x Reader

Nightglow - Berrien Cliane x Reader

Found You~ -  Berrien Cliane x Reader

Second Floor Butlers

Third Floor Butlers

Basement Floor Butlers

What A Small Mess + Extra - Basement Butlers x Reader (F)

Lato's Gift - Basement Butlers x Reader (F)

Villa Butlers

[simssub]

as we recall, gen 3's marital status roll was 'single with "useless" help' meaning hiring all services.

we've got no kids yet, so we're holding off on a nanny, but we have successfully hired a scheduled maid, gardener, and a live-in butler

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 7: The Realization

A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s enjoyed this series! When I had the idea for this, I had NO idea it was going to be as well loved as it’s become. I love and appreciate every like, follow, reblog, and ask!

As Bruce walks down the staircase and steps foot on the foyer’s marble floor, he realizes that something’s wrong. Well, he’s known that something’s been wrong for four years now, but he’s attributed it to his pile of never-ending cases, particularly the murder of the Joker and Harley Quinn, which has been eating away at him ever since that night and has occupied every corner of his mind. It’s been four years since he discovered their remains and he’s still in the dark, the only piece of evidence he has is some strange substance reminiscent of mold found within Joker’s remains.

What he’s currently feeling, however? It’s not the need to solve a case that threatens his city. It’s as if something is wrong with the manor itself, like there’s something missing. Something that he’s never paid much attention before but has always known is there, and now that something’s wrong, he can’t help but rack his brain for what it could be.

As he tries to thinks, he walks to the kitchen to find a snack (something pre-made, Alfred’s permanently banned him from ever cooking in his kitchen ever again) when he hears voices. Three voices, to be precise, and they’re definitely amused by something. As he gets closer, he can make out what they’re saying.

“I can’t believe he of all people would have this,” Tim says, an obvious smile intertwined in his tone.

“Hey, we’re all free to do what we want in our spare time,” Dick responds. “And if anyone in this house has earned spare time, it’s Alfred.”

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t do stuff he likes on his time off,” Tim quickly counters. “I’m just saying that I never would’ve expected him to be into stuff like this.”

“For once, I agree with Drake,” Damian, the third voice, interjects. “Pennyworth is a man of refined taste. For him to indulge in this childish entertainment is entirely unexpected. Only mindless buffoons would subject themselves to this drivel.”

“Hey,” Time exclaims, offended. “I happen to enjoy this ‘childish entertainment.’”

“My point stands. Once again, you prove your inferiority and poor breeding, Drake.”

That’s when Bruce decides to step in before a fight can break out in the kitchen (again) and enters, all three of his sons, who are crowding around something on the kitchen island, turning to him.

“Hey, B,” Dick says with his usual smile adorning his face.

“Hey,” Tim adds, glaring at Damian.

“Hello, Father,” Damian says, not sparing a glance at Tim and a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Hello, boys. Is something wrong? I heard something about Alfred.”

“No, we just learned something amazing,” Dick answers, practically buzzing with joy. “You’ll never guess what Alfred’s into!”

This certainly catches his attention. He’s known his faithful butler his entire life and likes to think he knows everything about the man who raised him after his parents were killed. To find something out about the man he didn’t know before is something that’s definitely worth his attention.

“What,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

The three of them part, revealing a laptop on the granite top. More specifically, it’s Alfred’s laptop. It’s strange enough that the man who takes the care of his kitchen as gospel would leave something like his laptop out in the open (especially since he’s always on their case about snooping on each other’s personal lives), but what really blows his mind is what’s on the screen: the menu for what appears to be a video game. It features what appears to be a derelict ship floating in space with soft music playing in the background and several options on the lower part and what he’s assuming is the title on the upper part: Salvage Rights.

“Alfred plays video games,” he asks, completely bewildered at the discovery.

“That’s what I said,” Tim exclaims. “I mean, I think it’s great if he wants to do that. I just didn’t expect him to be a gamer.”

“Don’t group Pennyworth in with your group of pathetic mouth breathers who don’t know what is fiction and what is reality.”

“So, what’s it about,” he asks, trying to stop a fight from breaking out in the kitchen that will net all of them in trouble.

“I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers, but from what I can tell you, it take place in the future after the sun imploded, forcing several fleets of ships to flee to a nearby star cluster, but only a few planets in the cluster can support human life naturally and several of them hold valuable resources, causing a war between three different factions to break out for control over the cluster,” his explains excitedly, making Bruce smile at the sight of his third son acting like a young man his age should. “You play the captain of a prospecting vessel that salvages derelict ships and during a salvage of a ship that dates back to before the sun imploding, you find something valuable that could determine who wins the war.”

“How absurd,” Damian mutters. “That story is utterly ridiculous. Whoever wrote it should be ashamed.”

“Who should be ashamed, Master Damian,” Alfred asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Whoever wrote the story for this absurd game you are apparently fond of,” his youngest son retorts.

“None of us thought you were into video games, Alfred,” Tim adds.

“I wouldn’t say that, Master Timothy, but I know its creator and I know he worked very hard to make the game you see before you. It makes me so happy that he finally achieved his goals and I want to do my part to support him. I hope he gets all the acclaim and recognition he rightfully deserves deserves.”

“Whoa, you know who he created Salvage Rights,” Tim asks, mesmerized. “Who?”

“It’s someone you all know: Master Y/N.”

Y/N? All of a sudden, he realizes a mistake he made earlier: Tim isn’t his third child, Y/N is. Wait, when was the last time he talked to his firstborn? Hell, when was the last time he talked to you? Wait, what do you even look like? How old are you?

This starts a cascade of realizations: he’s never celebrated your birthday. Or Christmas. Or even had a gala for you like all his children got to welcome them in his family.

“Y/N’s a video game developer,” Tim asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, that’s because none of you have ever had a conversation with the poor lad,” Alfred retorts, his look of disapproval returning. “I never knew it was possible to not say a single word to someone you’ve lived with for years, but you showed me such a thing was possible.”

Bruce looks to his sons and upon seeing their expressions, he knows that none of them have talked to you, either. This definitely doesn’t bode well for them. Or you.

“Well, we should go talk to him,” Dick pipes up, trying to stay upbeat, but he’s obviously upset at this realization. He moves to leave the kitchen. “Is he in his room?”

“His room isn’t in the family wing,” Alfred responds, stopping Dick’s stride.

That’s when Bruce realizes that he’s never seen you coming or going from any of the bedrooms in their part of the manor. If your room isn’t with theirs, where do you sleep?

“His room is on the other side of the manor,” Alfred says, as if he read Bruce’s mind.

And with that, he leaves the kitchen and all four of them follow the butler, their steps heavy and slow from guilt. Bruce’s guilt only grows as they walk through corridor after corridor, eventually replace clean and pristine for dirty and decrepit. With a manor as large as Wayne Manor, cleaning is a battle, requiring an army to maintain it, but with Alfred being the only one, Bruce told the man to leave the uninhabited wings alone and only clean them when they have guests, which Bruce tries to keep to a minimum as someone in his position in Gotham’s high society can get away with.

Have you been staying in this forgotten part for the manor ever since you came to live here? With only dust and pests for company?

After he talks to you, he intends on moving you to the bedroom next to his; it’s been empty for years and has been going to waste. When you move into that room, he’ll check on you everyday, waking you up himself and walking you down to the dining room for breakfast every morning.

“Why is his room so far from ours, Pennyworth,” Damian asks.

“Well, when he first moved in, none of the rooms in the family wing weren’t fit to be slept in,” Alfred explains. “By the time I prepared a room for him, Master Timothy came to live with us and Master Y/N said he could have that room. Every time I finally got a room prepared for him, Master Bruce had a new addition to the family. By the time you joined the family, he insisted he remained where he was.”

That stopped all further questions, leaving them to process the new information in silence.

“Here we are,” Alfred announces when they reach a door on the far side of the manor.

Bruce decides that he needs to be the one to talk to you first, so he knocks on the door.

“Y/N,” he says after knocking once. “Can I come in?”

That’s when Alfred opens the door and before Bruce can say anything, he looks inside to see not only you not in there, but your room’s the size of a broom closet compared to the rooms all of them enjoy. One thing he notices is that the room’s surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the wing it resides in; based off the lingering smell of cleaning products, Alfred must’ve cleaned it recently.

“What a hovel,” Damian remarks as they enter, looking around.

“Indeed,” Alfred responds. “This is a guest room we specifically use for guests who are unwanted.”

Those words hit Bruce harder than Bane ever could. When Damian first moved in, he complained that the size was “insufficient” and he needed more room; so, he had a perfectly good bedroom be added on to his room, doubling its size to accommodate his pets, weapons, art supplies, and whatever else he keeps in there, instead of going to you and leaving you to rot in a guest room they use for people that aren’t wanted here.

He looks over at the bed to see the painfully small mattress is definitely past its prime, worn out from years of use. The bed frame isn’t a better, either based on the fact it looks like it’ll break at any moment. He presses a hand on the mattress and winces when he feels the large indention and hears the loud squeaking.

Good god, how did you even sleep on this thing for a day let alone for years? Not only does it look uncomfortable, but it’s barely big enough to hold a child, let alone… whatever you are.

“It’s pretty empty in here,” Tim remarks as he examines the dresser. “Guess there’s not a lot of room for decorations.”

“While there were very little decorations in here while he was living here, he took almost everything with him when he left, Master Dick. Very little was left behind. He told me I could destroy everything he left behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away anything of his.”

Every second in here makes Bruce feel more horrible at how he’s treated his son. He needs to find you. Immediately.

“Where is he, Alfred,” Bruce asks, eager to find you and find some way to make amends.

“I’m afraid he doesn’t live in the manor anymore, Master Bruce. Master Y/N left us some time ago.”

Once again, Bruce feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut, leaving him breathless. You moved out?

“When,” Dick asks, clearly upset.

“Four years ago. The night he graduated from Gotham Academy.”

“That’s when I graduated,” Tim realizes.

Bruce remembers that: four years ago on the night Tim was set to graduate, he and all of his children (well, all except you) were busy combing Gotham for Joker and Harley’s killer, listening in on countless criminals celebrating the Clown Prince of Crime’s demise.

Christ, he can remember that, but not his own son? He knew he wasn’t the best father in the world (despite the mug that says otherwise courtesy of Dick), but he had no idea he had failed one person so much. How much he failed his firstborn son.

“Wait,” Bruce spits out. “If he graduated and none of us were there, who was with him?”

Oh god, if Alfred says no one was with him, he actually cry in front of all of them. To know that his son had no one to celebrate his big night would drive him off the edge.

“I was, Master Bruce.” Hearing that makes him feel a bit better, but not enough to really do anything about the pit of guilt building in his stomach. The butler pulls out his phone and types on it before holding it up for them to see. “This is him walking with his classmates.”

He watches the video of you (fuck, you’re so much older than he remembers) wearing the traditional black and gold gown for all Gotham Academy graduates (he sees the usual black and gold cap has been decorated, but he can’t see from this angle), walking in line with your fellow classmates, all of them wearing caps and gowns.

That’s when he realizes that there’s no pictures of you anywhere in the manor. He instantly thinks of the last family portrait he had commissioned (around the time Damian moved in) hanging above the mantle in the living room, which has him sitting in an elegant white and gold trimmed cushioned chair in the center with a ten-year-old Damian on his right, Barbara in her wheelchair on his left, and behind him from left to right is Cass, Steph, Tim, Jason, Dick, and Alfred.

A family portrait that he treasures not including you. Right now, it feels like he can cry and throw up at the same time.

“Here’s him receiving his diploma,” Alfred says as he swipes right, displaying another video.

Sure enough, the video playing shows the headmaster calling your name (Gould, not Wayne), you walking to the man and receiving your diploma with your left hand and shaking the headmaster’s hand with your right, and walking back to your chair. Each new revelation about you makes the cavern of guilt he’s standing in even deeper; finding out that your last name isn’t his and must be your mother’s, telling the world that there’s no connection between you and him, even though half your DNA came from him.

“A staff member was taking pictures of the graduates as they shook hands with the headmaster and she was kind enough to send it to me,” Alfred says as he swipes again, revealing a picture of you and the headmaster.

He only needs a split second to commit your details to memory. H/c sticking out from your cap that he can tell you’ve decorated and e/c that must come from your mother. And that’s when he realizes that while the color is different, their shape matches his mother’s perfectly. And isn’t that just twisting the knife in his gut.

“And this picture was taken after the ceremony.”

That’s when he sees you as perfectly as he can, standing next to Alfred, who is at an event that he should’ve been at, not looking to arrest someone who killed the man who’s terrorized Gotham for two decades. Nothing happened that night, he should’ve taken the night off to see both of his sons graduate, cheering them on and hugging them after receiving their diplomas.

“Is he still in Gotham,” Damian asks, his voice even, but Bruce can tell his youngest son feels guilty, something he’s only expressed a handful of times during his stay here.

“No, Master Damian, I’m afraid Master Y/N went back home.”

“‘Home,’” Dick exclaims. “This is his home!”

On one hand, Bruce wants to agree with Dick, that the manor is the only place you should call “home,” but on the other hand, he knows that with the way they treated you, he would understand why you’d want to leave him. Leave all of them.

“I’m afraid he felt differently. He told me that he’d been looking forward to going back to the home he lived with his mother. Apparently, the lack of affection and attention from his so-called family made him plan to move back when he turned eighteen, but I was able to convince him to stay so he could graduate.”

It made sense. After being ignored for years, why would you stay when you could leave? Bruce knows this, but now, all he wants is for you to move back in so he can give you all the love you can handle. He wants to have inside jokes with you, to give you a shoulder to cry on when the world overwhelms you, to take you out on quality time with just you and him.

He wants to do all the things for you that he does for his other kids. Things that he should’ve been doing for you from day one. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts only to find that you’re not only in his house, but you’re not even in his phone. He hasn’t had a single conversation with you in person, why would he think he’s had a conversation with you over text?

“Where is he now,” Bruce asks, his voice hollow and empty even to him.

Right now, all he wants is to learn where you are and try to find some way to make his transgressions up to you.

“I was led to believe Batman is the ‘world’s greatest detective,’” Alfred retorts, an eyebrow raised. “Are you unable to find your son on your own?” Bruce looks at him, making the butler sigh. “He moved back to his home in Goodsprings, Nevada.”

He didn’t even know where you came from before coming to live here. If there was an Olympic event for shitty fathers, Bruce would take home the gold in a landslide right now.

“Of course, you may have a golden opportunity to see him tomorrow night.” Alfred pulls his phone towards him, types something on it, and shows it to them again.

On the screen is a website for something called the Gamer’s Gala, a massive event held yearly where gamers go to see what new video games are planned to be released in the future and where game developers have an opportunity to win the “Golden Joystick,” a trophy given based off their game’s success during the year.

He scrolls through the website to find all the games up for awards and sees Salvage Rights by Gould Games in top contention for Indie Game of the year! He’s so excited to see you’ve found success in your passion and wants to see you walk on stage and accept the award, cementing your place as one of the greatest developers in the world.

According to the website, it’s being held in Metropolis this year due it being hosted completely by Lex Corp and that gets his blood boiling. No doubt this is some attempt to win public favor after yet another failed attempt to kill Superman and he thinks by doing this, people will forget all about whatever illegal activities he was up to his neck in. Had he known this sooner, he would’ve pulled the right to host the event out from under Lex’s feet, sparing no expense to ensure it was the biggest ceremony in the event’s history.

And of course, he’d invite you to stay at the manor the entire time, a room prepared just for you. Right next to his.

“The event is tomorrow night. I believe Batman can take one night off so Bruce Wayne can attend.” Alfred pulls something out from his pocket and holds it up to Bruce. “Master Y/N was kind enough to send me a ticket so I could be there for the biggest night of his life.”

Bruce takes the ticket and looks at it closer. According to the glossy golden ticket, it’s awarding the recipient special seating at a section of the hall reserved only for the friends, families, and special guests of candidates and offering them access to the Developer Lounge, a section of the convention center that only game developers and their guests can enter, where they can eat and drink all they want for free, all of it paid for by Lex Luthor.

When he gets back to the office, he plans on making that man’s life hell. It was bad enough that he somehow came in four years ago and undercut WE with products that he knows for certain were based off his company’s but he has no idea how Luthor was able to get his hands on classified technical specs, costing him and his company several contracts and millions in revenue for that fiscal year, but now, he’s gone and made the biggest night of his son’s life even better, something that he should’ve done.

This ticket is not way of witnessing the greatest moment in your life, but to try to repair his relationship with you.

“Why don’t we all go,” Dick pipes up, looking very uncomfortable. “We should all be there with for him. You know, as a family!”

“I agree with Greyson,” Damian adds. “We should all be there.”

“I’ll get us tickets,” Tim says as he pulls out his phone and begins to type on it.

“I think Master Bruce should go alone,” Alfred says, making all of them look at the butler. “This is a very delicate situation and if the entire family goes, it could make things worse. For now, allow your father to speak to your brother by himself.

The pained looks on his boys’ faces makes him feel even worse than he already does. He knows that they want to make up for how they treated you just like him, but right now, he’s not even sure how you’ll react seeing him, let alone the entire family.

He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home so they can show you the love you deserved back then. And then, they’ll all be one happy family.

“Thanks, Alfred,” he says as he carefully tucks the ticket into his coat, treating it like a precious artifact and not a flimsy piece of paper. “I have to get ready.”

As he leaves, he makes a note to give the butler a pay rise. Not just for giving him the ticket meant for him, but for helping him realize his mistake and for being there for his son.

As he heads to his room to pack a bag, he makes arrangements to stay at a penthouse as the hotel connected to the convention center so he can get there quickly and hopefully get to talk to you before the award ceremony. He also purchases your game in order to have something to talk to you about, hoping you’ll be touched by him supporting your career as a developer (he’ll also carefully analyze the game to high heaven in hopes of learning more about you) and starts drafting plans for Alfred to prepare your new room, allowing the butler to buy anything and everything he thinks you’d like, from furniture to decorations.

He briefly thinks about calling Clark and asking him to monitor the convention hall for any trouble from Lex, but quickly decides against it. Y/N is his son and he’ll protect him with his own hands, not relying on the Kryptonian. If Lex tries any shit during the ceremony, he’ll pull every underhanded trick in the book to buy out Lex Corp only to raze it to the ground and salt the earth where it once stood.

Whatever it takes, he’ll see you accept the trophy you so rightly deserve and after that, he’ll talk to you fact to face and beg you to forgive him, take you into his arms and apologize for not being the father you needed him to be. And after that, he’ll bring you back to the manor, where you’ll stay in a room next to his, where him and your siblings will keep you company from day in to day out. And when he brings you home, he’ll commission another family portrait that’s large enough to take up an entire wall and has you in the center with all of them surrounding you.

At last, they’ll be the family you deserve. The family you should’ve had when you became a part of their family.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bellethesleepypotato @exactlynumberonekryptonite @fantasyhopperhea @bronanitf @ellaprime7 @justwannabecat @ratchetprime211 @bunbunbread

[devildomditzy]

“aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

The sound of a scream rarely can pull your attention away from your D.D.D. nowadays.

Oh no, you know far better by now.

The days where once you panicked with worry, quickly stumbling over yourself to find which one of the brothers was in danger were long over - now that you know the only real danger in this house hold is the fact that they are dangers to themselves.

You lay lazily on your bed, scrolling through your Devilgram feed on your phone when you hear it: a scream off in the distance, slowly getting louder.

Actually, not louder. Closer.

You can hear it through the thick, oak door that divides you from the rest of the house. There’s some extra noise there too. Perhaps, one or two pairs of footsteps quickly falling on the hardwood floor in succession out in the hallway.

The only action you bother to take is glancing up from your device just to make sure your door is shut, and locked.

You expect it, you could even count down the seconds till it happens. Like clockwork, ever so predictable. The footsteps only get louder until you hear the inevitable banging on the other side of the wood.

Knocking, vigorous knocking. A loud fist slamming against your door so hard and so frantically you thought it might break.

“MC! Are ya in there? Can ya open the door please? Preferably within the next ten seconds.”

You roll your eyes, not bothering to move. Nope, you don’t want any part in this. You can ignore it all you want though, you know how persistent he is. Mammon always gets what he wants.

“MC, please. Ya gotta open up. I’ll do anythin’ ya want for the whole day- no, week if ya let me in!”

Now, that was an interesting proposition. Having a demon butler doesn’t sound too shabby. But Mammon isn’t Barbatos. And the idiot forgets he’s already pact bound to you, forced to do whatever you command on a whim.

You roll your eyes, calling out to him from your bed. “Hmm. Tempting, but not good enough.”

“Not good enough?! Whaddya mean not good enough you lousy-“

He’s cut off by a monstrous roar, one you’d distinctly recognize anywhere. Oh good, Levi summoned Lotan.

Mammon’s knocking gets faster as he pulls on your door handle, practically shaking the frame.

“Please please please please please!”, he pleads with you, sounding increasingly more panicked.

“Okay, okay, fine! I’ll take ya out to that nice restaurant you’ve been yappin’ about all week, that really fancy one!”

Now, you know Mammon good and well, so you know good and well to be suspicious of him and his motives. But, you trust him well enough to not flake out on a deal. He’s a business man and all that.

“Tonight?”, you question, trying to dull the hint of excitement in your tone.

“Yes! Tonight, fine whatever! Just open up already!”

You hear an angry shout of Mammon’s name that could only come from the third eldest getting louder, nearer into earshot.

“Fine.”

You open the door with no warning nor fanfare, causing Mammon, who had been practically leaning his whole body against it, to fall directly flat onto his face in front of you.

You hear a muffled “thanks” from the floor as you quickly shut and lock your door, effectively hiding the troublemaker from the sea monster (and his owner’s) eyesight.

“What’d you do this time?”, you question, arms crossed and peering at the man on your floor with feigned annoyance.

He slowly raises himself up, pushing off the floor and sitting up. He puts a hand to his head, rubbing at a tender area that must have hit the hardwood as you reach out a hand to help him up.

“Argh… What makes ya think I did somethin?”, he grumps. “Do ya really have that little faith in me?”

All it takes is an eyebrow raise from your unamused face before he growls at you- and spills his misdeeds.

“I thought maybe Levi wouldn’t notice if some of those little anime dolls of his went missin’”.

You sigh at him and shake your head in disappointment, multitasking as you take a look at the spot he was rubbing on his forehead, pushing his bangs out of the way to see if it bruised.

“How many did you take?”

“Only one!”, he says, almost as if he’s insulted that you’d insinuate that he took more- but then he falls apart under your gaze.

“Or three.”

“How about you give them back, huh?”, you muse, guiding him to sit down on your bed while you move about the room, walking over to a small antique looking ice chest you kept in the room as a mini fridge and opening the lid, peering inside before moving to your desk to grab something from the drawer.

“Cause I kinda loaned them out-“

You throw a dangerous look over your shoulder at him causing him to flinch and gulp.

“to a pawn shop.”

You make a few small ‘tsk’ sounds at him, reaching into the chest to pull out a handful of ice, wrapping them in the handkerchief you pulled from your desk drawer.

You walk over to him and place it over the red mark appearing on his forehead. Using your hand not holding the makeshift ice pack, you grab one of his, moving it up towards the bundle to replace your own with his, making him hold it instead.

“You know Lucifer’s gonna kill you AND Levi when he finds the hallways flooded with sea water for the second time in a month”, you say, taking his chin in your hand and carefully tilting his head side to side to look for any other cuts, scraps, or marks. You could pretend to be annoyed all you want. You both knew you didn’t mind playing nurse for him.

“Why do ya think I’m hidin’ from em ?”

You let out a small laugh, but shake your head at him all the same.

“Well, I’m looking forward to our impromptu date, but first we’re gonna head to that pawn shop to buy back his figurines, okay golden boy?”

He grunts at you before making eye contact and melting. He could never say no to you, not under that gaze.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll even buy him another one to go with ‘em. He’s been talkin’ about some new magical girl or whatever, I’m sure I could find one of her.”

You smile at him, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“Perfect, sounds like a plan. Let’s get going”, you smile, moving in to lay a kiss on his cheek, only stopping when you both hear a trickling sound.

You look over at your door only to find water beginning to flow underneath and into your room.

Aaaannnddd, the hallways flooded.

“We are going to have to leave through the window though.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

So an idea if you want to use it (sorry if it is long-)

I was reading a fic where Jazz, Danny, Dan and Dani(Ellie) were trasnported in Gotham but the twist? they are children

Jazz is 10

Dan and Danny are 5

And Ellie is a 1 year baby

So what if....

Jazz becames a vigilante by accident (bc she killed the Joker when he was teatening her siblings) and they decide to hide in Wayne manor. why? well bc is the only place where is "safe" also bc Danny and Dan wanted to invade an Fruitloop mansion (only Alfred and Duke knows theyre there-)

But the best part? All the Fentom sibling are children of Bruce Wayne (just think abt it-)

I think the fic you're talking about is Alfred and the Tiny Attic Squatters! I highly recommend it for those who haven't read it, especially for the interactions between Jazz and Damian. My version of this prompt isn't be as good as this fic, but I hope you enjoy it!

Wayne Manor is a large estate. It is a seven-story building with seventy rooms within the one hundred and fifty acres owned by the Waynes. It had three pools, the largest outside and the smaller indoor pools on the third and seventh floors. Two helipads were on top of the west and main wings.

They were no longer traditional wings but an interconnected section built under Master Thomas' watchful eye. He wanted the Manor to be one massive unit, discarding the social barriers previous heads of the family had wished to create with the buildings.

Although the East wing was seven floors, it was initially the servant's chambers, the West was visiting for guests that were not quite important enough to be within the inner circle of the Waynes, and the Main one, the most elegant of them all, where the Waynes lived, and occasionally hosted the most important members of high society.

Master Thomas made it a project to upgrade every inch of the Manor to ensure it had the latest modern delights. He took that opportunity to build hallways connecting the wings, making them as important as the Main.

However, the servants had been so used to describing the grounds in the old manner that Master Thomas could not stop people from referring to the wings regardless of his good intentions.

When Alfred was hired, he was one of the twenty butlers employed by Master Thomas. There were the twenty maids, the ten chiefs, and the three groundskeepers.

The large estate was never without noise or the people moving about. Someone was always there, all proud to work for the kindhearted doctor and his philanthropist wife. Alfred had only applied for the position because, at the time, he had not been handling losing his entire team well.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Their last hurra towards the war's end, but the tensions at the borders had been underreported, and Alfred had been the only solider among the seven-man team to make it back from the front lines. The guilt was so heavy that he could not join his countrymen in celebration, drowning his sorrows in whatever bottle he could find.

Alfred tried for a few years to live as a civilian again, but every night, his teammate's screams haunted him. Soon, he could not stand being in England, not even to watch the country rebuild.

He had run from Her Majesty's service, run from his duties as a father, and run from his home. Somehow, he found himself working on various boats, working to buy his next bottle as a boat hand. One of those boats Master Thomas had boarded.

Alfred had just been informed he was fired for being caught drunk on the job too many times when he stumbled by Master Thomas' room. The crew would wait till they docked in America before throwing him off the ship. He had not meant to press his ear to the man's door, but the swaying of the boat and drunken balance had ended up with him leaning on the wood to stay upright.

That's how he overhears Master Thomas' choked cries for help. Alfred had burst through the door, startling a man with wire wrapped around Master Thomas' neck.

An assassin had been sent to kill the young Wayne heir so his company would be broken up among unworthy cousins. Alfred's training had kicked in, and despite being so sloshed he was seeing doubles, the Englishman had defeated the would-be killer.

Master Thomas was so grateful that he offered him a job at the manor. Alfred had agreed since he had no other plan, figuring he would drink his way to his grave on the nobleman's coin.

Years later, no matter how often Master Thomas insisted Alfred saved his life, he knew it was the other way around. His boss had turned into a trusted friend, who pried the bottles from his hand, forced him to write to his daughter, and taught him to live once more.

Many whispered rumors of a love affair between the two, but Alfred never let it bother him. None of them knew Master Thomas as he did.

None of them understood the man loved the world with his entire heart, was so good that the idea of caring for someone just to get them into bed never crossed his mind, or that if sunshine could be personified, it would take the shape of Thomas Wayne.

Alfred was just one among the fifty-three employees, but he foolishly felt a part of the family anyway. They all did. Master Thomas could make anyone feel like a beloved cousin, and when he brought home Mistress Martha, well, the family had just gotten bigger.

The little paddle of Master Bruce's footsteps added to the noise and warmth of the manor. It was as if his birth filled a hole they had not known needed filling.

Wayne Manor was a large estate, but it never made anyone feel small within its grounds. Alfred devoted himself to ensuring everything was in top shape for his friend, becoming the head buttler when the last one retired and came to care for Master Bruce in his upbringing. The world was bright and joyful, and Alfred felt like he believed in hope once more.

Then, Master Thomas and Mistress Martha were killed.

All at once, the Wayne Manor fell silent. Master Bruce was far too young to manage his estate. His shares in the company passed to his uncle- a man Alfred detested greatly- his employee's pay cut off. Many of the servants attempted to remain for free, but it soon became apparent they could not survive without an income.

One by one, they vanished, the wings sealed shut upon their departure. Only Alfred remains loyal to the boy with Master Thomas' eyes but no longer with his spark.

Something broke inside of Master Bruce that day. Something that would lead to Batman would consume his every thought and soul. Alfred feared the boy would join his parents if he, too, left for England, leaving him to his uncle and the suddenly too-large house he once called home.

Wayne Manor was far too large for only two people. Alfred hated the way his footsteps echoed whenever he walked through the two wings because with Master Bruce remaining in the Main wing, there was no other sound except for Alfred.

He was alone. Again.

Alfred moved into the Main wing three months later, knowing he would go mad if he stayed in the East wing. The West Wing fell out of use when Master Bruce became obsessed with fighting crime and no longer allowed guests to spend the night.

Even years later, when Master Bruce used his playboy persona to hide his night activities, he never opened the two large wooded doors into the other wings. The parties were always in the Main Wing and had an end time. If a guest did stay, Alfred had a room in nearby rooms to the ballrooms ready.

When Master Dick was brought in, Alfred had put the lad on the seventh floor of the Main wing alongside Master Bruce. He then filled up the rooms downwards for all the following children. Alfred lived on the second floor of the Main wing, his room far back from the stairway, content with the thumps of the children overhead as they walked to and fro the manor.

He could not bring himself to unseal the wings. Not even when the children asked about the large double doors, always closed shut. The silence was a haunting reminder of the alley that took away the personification of sunshine.

Secretly, Alfred believed Master Bruce felt the same, so he never ordered the butler to open them. The children no doubt walk through the wings- one could not be a crime-fighting partner to Batman without breaking some unspoken rules- but there was nothing of interest.

Only furniture covered in cloth and empty rooms that held the shards of Alfred's broken heart. A part of life slowly forgotten in the wake of devastation. After a curious walk-through, the children never bothered with the two wings again.

Or at least Alfred believed them to become bored.

He was unsure why Master Damian, Master Duke, Master Tim, or Miss Cass would want to enter the East Wing after so many years. Yet here he stood, feather duster in hand, feeling shocked to see those doors again open.

Alfred had just been doing his bi-monthly dusting of the less used rooms of the Main wing when he noticed that the East wing door had been left slightly open. Someone had forgotten to close it properly, and the dust around the doorknob was noticeably thicker on one side than the other.

The lights in the hallway behind it were still shut off, dressing the other side of the door in shadows. Alfred could almost say the darkness was looming over him, taunting him with hurtful memories but calling to him all the same.

He had not crossed to the other wings since before Master Jason had been brought to the manor. Alfred had not been strong enough to survive hurtful members before, and his cowardness had led him to run from those wings.

Yet still, the darkness called.

Swallowing, the aged butler placed the feather duster down. He pulled out the smartphone Miss Steph insisted he owned to click on his flashlight. His gloved hands curl around the knob, his fingers starting to shake as he pulls.

The hinges creaked loudly, nearly downing out his shattering breath. It's noisy from the misuse, he knows, but it still feels like the Manor itself is accusing him of abandonment.

He nearly turns around right there, but he sees a slight glow at the far end of the wing. Smaller than the one on his phone, almost the stairway. It reminds him briefly of the glow-in-the-dark star stickers that Master Dick had placed in his room during the first few months of living in Gotham.

The lad had missed seeing the shine of the night sky.

Alfred's toes are right at the edge of the doorframe as he strains his eyes, trying to make out what the glow is. The shine moves around from the stairway, disappearing from sight, leaving him shining a light into the darkness of the old, empty hallway.

His feet move without much thought across the doorway as he stumbles- as silent as the night. Someone had taught Master Bruce, after all. He passes by white cloths dropped over furniture and empty walls- the painting had been moved to storage, the potted plants withered away years ago, and the vases either sold off by Master Bruce's uncle or lost in some place.

The air is musty, as Alfred had not bothered to clean or air this entire building out in years. His nose tickles from all the dust particles flying around as he swings his light carefully.

He stops just at the end of the stairway, eyes fixated on a window. A slightly open window, its glass unable to see through, but what really shocked him was the tiny handprint on the lower right panel.

It's the shape of a small child. The trail of footprints, outlined by the floors he long ago gave up on, is also that of a child's, leading towards the stairs and climbing them upwards. Alfred shuts off his light, pushing it into his pocket as he blindly uses the railing to guide him upwards.

The slight footprints do not go down hallways but keep going up and up until he's on the top floor and at the edge of the hallways where the master room of this wing is. Each floor at Wayne Manor, regardless of wing, houses three bedrooms.

The East Wing rooms are unique because they hold a sitting area, a small kitchen, and an ensuite bathroom. They were designed to make guests feel like they were staying in a luxury hotel so they would not feel snubbed for not being invited into the main wing.

They could be self-sustainable if they were not accompanied by servants.

Alfred could see the light turn on in the last room, hear various voices, and, most alarming, a blender was in use. He creeps closer, letting the noise of the machine mask his approach.

This door is slightly open as well. It was likely the same person who did not close the main entrance correctly. The crack in the wood is big enough he can peer through with one eye and not have his entire face in the open.

Alfred is stunned to find a young girl with red hair, no older than ten, standing at the counter fixing dinner. Master Bruce never shut off the wings' utilities merely because they were connected to the Main. The water, the heater, the light, and all of it were in use as the young girl let the blender stop, pouring a green drink into three cups.

She hums to herself, placing the glass into the sink. The redhead hops off the chair with an easy little twist of her feet, moving towards the wall oven and looking through the glass door.

"Pizza is almost ready!" She calls. Twin cheers pop up from Alfred's sight, but he doesn't have to wonder who released them for long before two tiny blurs rush into the kitchen.

A pair of young boys, likely twins based on their identical features, no older than five, press themselves against the oven. They have to stand on their toes to correctly see the pizza, but it does nothing to deter their excitement.

The little redhead girl pats the head of one of them on her way to the stove, pulling a milk bottle out of a pot on the stovetop. "Danny, can you bring Dani to me?"

Alfred wonders by the repeat of the name as the other little boy- the one she did not pat- steps away from the oven. He rushes out while the little girl tests the bottle's milk on her wrist. She seems satisfied with it just as the boy returns, pushing a baby stroller.

The girl reaches into the stroller, pulling out a tiny infant that could be no more than five months old. The child quickly has the baby latching on to the bottle with the ease of someone who's had practice.

"I made us some veggie drinks-" She starts, only to have both boys begin to whine. "-No buts! We need all the vegetables we can get to compensate for our small bodies. Lack of nutrition has played a severe role in us, and now that we've found a safe place to live, I'm going to feed us well."

"You sure you should be stealing from Bruce Wayne? It's not entirely safe to say he'll be understanding if we get caught," The other twin speaks up, sounding alarmingly too old for a five-year-old. Maybe they were older and were just small due to malnourishment, like the girl said?

"It's okay. We're been here a whole month, and no one even suspects. Besides, you know what Clockwork said. He is supposedly our biological father; even if he doesn't want anything to do with us, the least he can do is allow us this empty apartment."

"This is better than the car we lived in," The other child chirps "It even has a TV!"

"It's all old, but it works," The girl agrees with a smile, moving the bottle so the white liquid falls to the front. The baby is still slurping down the meal in soft gulps that can only come from hunger. "I'm grateful for the bathroom. I forgot what it felt like to be this clean. That reminds me, I will do our laundry in the tub later, so bring me all the dirty clothes you have."

Alfred retreats from the door, pressing his hand against his mouth. He needs to speak to Master Bruce. If the girl is wrong, if this Clockwork lied to them, they are still small children living in Wayne Manor for an entire month.

And none have been the wiser.

What if they are Master Bruce's children? What would Master Thomas say if he knew his grandchildren had been left to live on the streets for such prolonged malnourishment had stunned their growth?

Alfred all but runs the second he crosses the Wing doorway, mind whirling. He thinks it madness that has him bursting into Master Bruce's office because, for a second, he could have sworn the sunlight falling through Master Bruce's window was Master Thomas's smiling face.

"Alfred? What's wrong?"

"Sir, I believe we have unknown guests you should meet."

[sakur4ii]

Code Name: Rabbit

Prologue (?

prologue(this) | part 1 (soon)

Living in Wayne Manor is both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to you. On one hand, you no longer had to worry about money, you could eat more than one meal a day, and it was a safe place. But on the other hand, it was a sad, empty place, without love—at least not for you.

Jason Todd's death severely affected your father, Bruce Wayne’s, mental stability. If he didn’t pay much attention to you before, now you barely saw him at all.

After your mother’s death, you ended up at the manor. It was difficult—your father, Bruce, didn’t seem happy about your presence. He was fighting an internal battle you could never understand. Dick was also going through a rough time. You didn’t know what his problem was, but he seemed to be fighting his own internal war, though completely different from Bruce’s.

So, you were mourning. Your father didn’t want you, and neither did your older brother. Only Alfred, the butler, seemed to acknowledge your existence.

Then you met Jason. He had been at the manor longer than you and was your age. He was excited to have someone his age around, and you were happy to finally have someone who cared about you.

You and Jason pretended to be twins—a running joke you kept up at Gotham Academy. People actually believed it. You spent so much time together that it wasn’t hard to figure out that he was Robin, Bruce was Batman, and Dick was Nightwing. What did surprise you was finding out that Barbara Gordon was Batgirl.

Jason’s death hit you hard. You didn’t leave your room for days.

You thought that after such a catastrophic event, you and Bruce could support each other. He had lost a son, and you had lost a brother—Jason Todd was gone for both of you. But instead, the opposite happened. Bruce didn’t just blame himself—deep down, he blamed you too. He thought you knew what Jason was planning. He believed you could have done or said something to stop him. But in truth, Jason never told you about his intentions.

So, while Jason was supposed to be dead, you found yourself completely alone—even as more people joined the family, filling the void Bruce needed to fill.

Aside from the arrival of Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, and Cassandra Cain, you also suffered an attack at the academy. Some lunatic with an axe left a deep wound on your face, running from your lips to your right eyebrow. And yet, your family still didn’t seem to care about you.

By the time you turned 18, the wound had turned into a scar (one that would take a decade or more to fully heal).

You were tired of being ignored by your family, so you and a girl named Lyara—whom you befriended after the attack (and whom you were a little in love with)—decided to buy a building together. You turned the first floor into a nightclub/bar, the second floor into a high-end club where the dancers were well-paid, didn’t have to sleep with anyone, and could wear animal masks to protect their identities. They set their own rules. The third floor was a cozy space with pastel colors, where the dancers could change, relax, or sleep. And finally, there was your office (technically only yours since Lyara preferred having fun as a dancer and scamming rich men instead of handling paperwork—she only managed salaries and kept an eye on things).

The plan was to turn the place into a safe haven for desperate women.

Even though you knew how to handle a variety of firearms (your mother noticed your natural talent for marksmanship and encouraged it by taking you to a shooting range, and you kept going even after her death), and you had training in boxing and some martial arts (Alfred signed you up for classes to help you cope with Jason’s death), it wasn’t enough to protect your workers or the entire building.

So, with Lyara’s approval, you put your hacking skills to use—gathering and selling information to the highest bidder, whether they were rich, poor, criminals, or vigilantes… as long as their requests didn’t go against your morals.

In just one year, your building was mostly protected by criminals, and you had become a highly respected source of information. You remained anonymous, wearing a chilling black rabbit mask with glowing red eyes whenever you showed your face.

"If you need information—any kind—Rabbit will have it. You just have to meet her requirements."

You never found out about Jason Todd’s resurrection.

You never knew about your half-brother, Damian.

You never heard about Duke Thomas joining the family.

At least, not until you turned 21…

---

Extra details!!

• The building is under both your name and Lyara’s, but you both used your mothers’ last names to make it harder to track you.

• Lyara has dyed bubblegum pink hair and is about three centimeters shorter than you.

• Because of your scar, you always wore a mask and sunglasses, but Lyara eventually convinced you to stop.

• There are lots of photos of you and Jason around the manor, taken by Alfred.

• There are going to be a lot of original characters, because I don't dare to use some Batman villains and mischaracterize them.

[sleepinghypnos]

The Creed...

Chapter 1 - Penthouse

Genre: Smut

Tags: F/M, F/F/M, F/F/F/M, Facefuck, Throatfucking Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Harem, Self-degradation, Masochism/Sadism(?), Cum Play, Piss Play

(The things in the tags will be present when the time needs for it.)

Disclaimer: This work is a fan-fiction and does not depict the person/people mentioned in the story.

A/N: You can self-insert if you want...

--

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

"What is it? I'm preoccupied, so make it quick." Vlad answered the call.

"Fine. Just send them to my house... but I will not be responsible if something happens to them." He replied with his slightly deep voice and end the call.

*Silenced Gunshot*

"Blame your competitor, not me." Vlad immediately packed up his sniper rifle and fled the scene while remembering what one of his close associates in the entertainment industry said few moments ago, he begged him to accommodate a number of female K-pop idols for the purpose of strengthening the bond between idols through a experimental project wherein they live together as Tenants, cameras will not be present just them living together and at the end of their time as tenants they will do an interview regarding the way of life living with other k-pop idols aside from their respective members. In this way, the fandoms of each k-pop group will stop fighting over trivial things on the internet and support other idols.

Vladimir Creed was a 26 year old Half-European and Half-American man. His parents died in a car accident when he was still a child and only his grandfather is his only family left. He's living a lavish lifestyle full of money, expensive cars and women...

His family or more like his grandfather founded a huge company in America and owns many stocks in the entertainment industry in Korea and since Vlad is not someone who actively makes himself noticeable or well-known, he parties without revealing his true identity to anyone with a few exception of course, he has few actual friends and all of them are also young masters of their own families just like he was and he rarely expresses his emotions so he has a hard time managing it.

In his typical days, he spends most of his time just relaxing in his penthouse, in which he bought himself with his own money. though it may seem strange since he parties every chance he get, he has a very unique talent and that is being a hired gun that even his grandfather didn't know.

And while relaxing, he usually goes naked after a shower because there is no one in the house, It's is personal space after all. His maids and butlers will only come if they were asked for and he cooks for himself.

His penthouse is in a small island near the coast and there is only one bridge connected to it. So, guests who'll visit the island can use the bridge without the need of boats.

...

Vlad arrived at his house but welcomed by cars parked near the main gate. "What the fuck is this?" He said to himself, he got out of his car to check what's going on then he remembered Eunseok, one of his close associates said few hours ago. "Now it makes."

Then he called one of the guards to let him pass, and so they did. He drove and the people blocking the path dispersed and he got in smoothly.

"Let them in, they are going to live here indefinitely." Vlad announced to the guards and went inside to change.

Most of the people outside the penthouse are already inside the living area, he saw the k-pop idols waiting for the master of the house.

"I'm Vladimir Creed, but you can call me Vlad. I'm the owner of this house, my friend already told me what you guys are going to do. So feel free live here." and he looked at managers of each of the group "There are places in the house that is not available, I don't care if they used the swimming pool, drink at the bar." Pointing at the wet bar near the kitchen. "Or anything, but, all of third floor is off limits because that's where my room is located."

The producer nodded and introduce the idols that will be living with him in the house.

He extended his hand for a handshake to ITZY's Yuna and Ryujin, Aespa's Karina and Winter, (G)-Idle's Soyeon and Miyeon, Red Velvet's Irene, Seulgi, and Joy, and Twice's Sana, Mina, and Nayeon which they received with a smile.

--

One day has passed, the girls are eating lunch in the long refectory table since they woke up late just like Vlad was and the maids and butlers were there to assist them.

After lunch, the Red Velvet and Twice members were gathered in the backyard, enjoying a beautiful sunny day by the pool. They were relaxing and chatting about their recent performances, when they suddenly heard a splash from the pool.

Curious, they all turned to see Nayeon filling up a water gun and aimed at them. Panic set in as they scream and run around the pool to avoid getting wet since they just want to enjoy the sun.

Running made them exhausted and they decided to have a friendly water fight. Joy and Seulgi teamed up against Sana and Mina, Nayeon and Irene. Laughter and screams filled the air as they chased each other around the pool, trying to get each other wet

In the living room, Ryujin and Karina were sharing a bucket of ice cream while watching a romantic K-drama. They were joined by Soyeon and Miyeon, who couldn't resist the delicious smell of the popcorn. They all cuddled under a blanket, enjoying the show and teasing each other about their favorite characters. Yuna and Winter are busy doing some tiktok challenge.

As the sun set, the members of ITZY, Aespa, and (G)-Idle joined their sun-kissed Seniors in the pool. They all gathered around the pool, sharing stories, and having a heart-to-heart conversation. For a moment, the backyard was filled with the sound of their laughter and friendship.

As the night came, they all gathered in the living room to watch a movie together. They munched on some snacks and cuddled on the couch, enjoying their time together. It was a perfect day off for all of them, a day filled with laughter, bonding, and memories that they will cherish forever.

Karina asked the butler where Vlad was and she was led to the study where he spends time if he's not doing anything.

When Karina entered the study, she was met with a tall, imposing figure staring at her from behind a large oak desk. Vlad's dark hair was slicked back, and he exuded a sense of power and mystery. Karina couldn't help but feel a pull towards him, she already know that this man is handsome the moment she land her eyes on him earlier in the morning.

"Um, Sir? I just want to asked if we can have some of the liquor in the wet bar." She asked while slowly approaching him.

"Didn't I told you girls that you can do whatever you want with the wet bar?" He answered and walked to towards her. "And you're asking me when you already half drunk."

Karina got embarrassed but it faded when a faint smile appeared on Vlad's lips, she was mesmerized. "Are you sure that's the reason why you're here?" he was close to her, Karina needs to look up just to meet his eyes.

Karina pulls him for a kiss and reciprocated it with the same intensity. It started as vanilla kissing until in turns into something like animals in heat and eventually began to make out with insane passion. Vlad grab her waist to pull her closer, her hands were hugging his neck.

He noticed she wanted more and so he obliged and brought one hand to feel up her breasts which made Karina moan between their kisses.

Their kiss was passionate, Vlad keeping her in his arms while she let herself be consumed by him. It lasted for few minutes until they both stopped quietly staring at each other.

"D-did you like it?" Karina said while catching her breathe.

"I did, your lips are sweet with a hint of whiskey... you really were half drunk." Brushing his thumb on her lips. "Want me to lead this time?" he asked her while caressing her face.

"Yes, please." Karina said.

“Do you think could handle it?” Vlad responded seemingly showing concern.

Karina nodded. “I did have my own few boyfriends before...”

“I won't doubt it but... I get rough. Really rough. I'm sure it's something you haven't experience before..."

“You are worrying about me and that's sweet but I think I'm gonna be fine... please don't hold back and just give it to me.” She said while making a serious face.

Vlad's hand roam towards her neck and stayed there and slowly gripping it. Her cunt throb as they kiss again and slowly stripping each other’s clothes off, his hands still in her neck slightly choking her.

As their bodies got liberated from their clothing, Vlad immediately attacks Karina's big breasts making her moan, her hands couldn't resist to push his head closer. His other hand goes to Karina's precious treasure and starts invading it.

"This fucking slutty tits of yours keeps leering people on." Vlad said while groping her breasts and assaulting them with his tongue...

"Fuck! Yes! It feels good, sir." Karina said.

Which made Vlad riled up even more. "Sir?" He stopped groping her breast.

"You don't like being called like that? I'll change it." She said while pleading to continue to pleasure her.

He doesn't like getting called Daddy/Oppa. The women he's been with keeps calling him that and he got bored by it, now he prefers to called by his name but this time around is different.

Sir? of all the things that someone can be called... Sir is the one getting him riled up.

"No, keep it that way... now get on your knees whore." Vlad said with a commanding aura. “I’m going to use your mouth as a fleshlight. Pull my cock out.”

Karina didn't expect the monster hiding beneath his pants. She could see the bulge of his massive cock. Now she knows why he said 'Something she haven't experience before.' because it's true. He is much bigger than the guys she's been with. So much bigger. She feels hotter and hotter than usual.

Vlad's dick stands proud at 10 inches and is almost girthy as a water bottle.

“You are so massive, fucking massive!” Karina said as she freed his cock and hit her in the face. She stare at his huge member mesmerized by it.

“My god! Why are you so big? Can you even use this?” She said as she grabbed his cock with with both hands. "And you're going to use my mouth with this thing?"

"What? Are you scared? I told you I'm rough and I mean it." He said seriously. "You are going to take every inch of my cock in your throat whether you like it or not."

Karina got nervous but her lust towards him is much heavier.

She showered his cock with kisses, admiring every inch, as if she's worshipping his massive member.

"Suck it." And she did, she gives him a slow and sensual blowjob, keeping her eyes on him.

"You came in her just to do that?"

“What do you mean, Sir?”

He grabbed her by the hair she opened her mouth and swallowed as much of him as she possibly could.

COUGH COUGH COUGH

Relaxing her throat as she let his girthy cock push through her throat. She struggled for a minute and he's watching her giving herself to him.

Vlad guides her and she bobbed her head up and down to see how deep she could take him over and over and over again. Her eyes were tearing up, saliva dripping down as she takes his girthy cock in her throat.

She taps his legs but Vlad ignored her protests and stayed in her throat. "I told you, I'm rough... you don't know what you get yourself into."

He is fucking her throat with reckless abandon and not caring if she can still breathe. Few seconds more and he let go and she breathe hastily. "Sh-shit! I almost passed out." She coughs. "Fuck!"

"Just accept your role as my slut from now on." He slaps her face with his massive heavy cock.

He forced his cock back into her throat. She gives in, letting this man use her mouth and throat as a fleshlight. Her eyes were rolled back into her head.

GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK

Her moaning and gagging sounds filled the study, the moonlight touches her silky white skin enhancing her beauty further while her throat is getting violated. Even though she already accepted her fate, she still needs to breathe and she tried to struggle for air but failed.

“MMMPPHKKKK!” She resists and got ignored.

“Just stay there, don't regret your decisions now.” Vlad said and spent another three seconds before letting Karina go.

She chokes and gags even though she's already freed from that monster of a cock. “Did I... do a good job, Sir?” She asked noticeably exhausted. She then received another batch of throatfucking and this time, it's much easier but it still hurts.

GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK

She's taking it like a good little slut, moaning and groaning every time Vlad thrusts too deep in her throat. Karina became accustomed to the massive rod destroying her tight throat and she slowly but surely loving the way he manhandle her without any care about her well-being.

"I'm cumming you little slut!" He said and starts speeding up in his assaults. After all of this, he gave her some leeway and pull his cock out of her mouth. "Want to drink it?"

“YES! T-thank you, feed me your c-cum! Please sir, I'm begging you!!!” She said before he shoved his cock back into her mouth again.

Vlad reached his climax and poured it all in Karina's throat, he releases an obscene amount of cum like he's been holding it for long while. She willingly swallow every bit of it. Few ropes of his cum left in her mouth, she put on a show by gurgling, swirling her tongue cover of his cum then swallowing it.

“Oh my god... fucking hell... that was heavenly!” She said as she crawled over to him and started to lick his shaft cleaning it. “I need to be treated like that again, Sir. Please! You are right, I never experienced that before..”

"Oh, That's only the beginning little slut." He said while grabbing her in the neck and pulling her up.

A/N: Another Series that I might abandon but... oh well. I planned on doing the Bodyguard EP. 6 but idk when to actually do it.

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

Chapter 1

You still clearly remember when you arrived at your new home  It was the biggest house you had been able to see in your short life.

When you got a better look, you felt a great sadness emanating from the outer walls, each space filled with a lifeless neutral color.

The owner of all the hallways, floors and valuable things, he was also a spitting image of melancholic, that was what you wanted to believe for a long time, that your new father was so damaged, that he couldn't afford to fix anyone else, besides him.

You took refuge in your room, the first days were full of tears and great sadness, you had not only lost your dear mother, but also your home, you ended up in an unknown place, with unknown people, you were miserably alone.  

Recovering a little from your depressed and lifeless state, you decided to seek comfort, whatever you could get, it didn't take a hug or sympathetic words, not even a minute of attention, just an empathetic look, a pat or some miserable affection.

Alfred, the butler, was the one who was in charge of taking care of you, he tried to give you the affection you needed, he was a father, while your real father continued to behave like an adult with no responsibilities at home, he was a sought-after bachelor with no children.

Seeing him and a new woman passing through the hallways hurt you a lot, not because of jealousy, you thanked all the divinities that your mother never stayed with your father, but rather because those women received more love and attention than the one you you had when you arrived at this house, of course they were only small one-night stands or fleeting relationships, but they still had your father's attention.

Some time passed, your father brought a boy, upon returning from one of his outings, you knew his secret that he was a superhero, you knew it from the day you saw him injured in the dining room chair while you were leaving with a tray of cookies you made with Alfred for their movie night. The point was that you never went out with your father, not even when he was in his role as a millionaire.

You thought that new boy was just your father's whim, to help someone in trouble, but he became your new brother, was that his way of helping?  

You tried to establish a friendly relationship with the boy, your new brother Dick Wayne, but he was so focused on his pain and hatred that he didn't even look at you at first, but with a little perseverance, you became his rock of support in his lowest moments together with Alfred, it's a shame that in trying to find his new path he left you behind.

Unlike you, your father did pay attention to him and looked at him, he was his son.  

He did the same with his next two adopted children, Jason, the brother you were able to get along with the most, he told you a lot about the adventures he had or the books he finished reading, he was like a little child next to you. Until he died. It was sad, not seeing him anymore. It depressed you for a long time.

After Jason, Tim followed, he was a very closed child with you, he didn't give you an ounce of his attention, just an unfriendly face.

You only had these little descriptions of your siblings, not that you knew much about them, you never dug deep into their past, you tried to be a good big sister. 

When the third child arrived you had already graduated and managed to enter a university very far away from Gotham City.

You packed your bags, said goodbye to the only person who was your family in this house and went to form your new life.

You didn't expect that a few years later, while you were preparing dinner with one of your best friends, he would tell you that you have a person at the door looking for you. 

 Less see a child who was the same carbon copy of your father.

"Well... What brings you here?"

The boy's raised eyebrow told you how bad you were starting the conversation, but in your defense you didn't know what to do, you were full of nerves, leaving the boy outside your house was not an option, it was at night and it was dangerous.

"I am Damian Wayne, the first blood son of Bruce Wayne, a true Wayne" what great arrogance this boy possessed.

"I came to this place to look for the first girl my father adopted"

"You know we are half-brothers from what I understand your speech." 

His look full of anger and indignation showed that he did not like your words.

"YOU…"

He was ready to get up when some whimpers stopped him.

"Excuse me for a moment if" you left the room and ran to the cause of the whining.

Damian was regretting having come to this place just with the goal of meeting a girl, Alfred had made her sound like someone great, but seeing her for the first time disappointed him, you weren't even half as good as his other brothers, that It meant you couldn't even reach his heels. But still there was something that stopped him from leaving when he saw you, your kind way of receiving him, how you treated him as kindly as possible without you knowing him.

He got very angry when you named him an equal, his half-sister, he didn't like that title, he was ready to start a fight and teach you a lesson, but some whining stopped him from continuing.

Seeing you return to the living room with a baby in your arms baffled him, maybe you had a son.

He watched you sit down, you rocked the baby lovingly and you hummed a song to him.

"This is Alice, she's my little princess" you smiled as you showed her to the boy.

If your little adventure with the stranger who joked about being a hero ended with the origin of your cute baby, you became a new version of your mother.

Your new half-brother focused a lot on watching the girl.

"Now, as I understand it, you were looking for me because you wanted to meet me, right?"  

"No, of course not, I just wanted to know who the girl Alfred always talked about was."

"It's not the same as what I said"

It seems that you provoked the boy, when you saw him go towards the door.

"Hey why don't you stay to eat" you stopped the boy, if you weren't already over this family.    

You got up with your baby and carefully placed her in the child's arms.

"Here, load it up, I'll put the plates for dinner."

  You went to the kitchen and the boy quickly followed you with the baby.

"I'm not your babysitter to take care of your daughter," he complained.

"No, of course you're not her babysitter, you're her dear uncle" I smiled at how adorable they looked "Look, it seems like she adores you, she almost never likes to leave my side and cries when someone else picks her up."

There were a few more complaints from the boy, but you saw that your words made him proud and made him play with the baby in his arms.

If the yandere family has not yet appeared, it will first start from the smallest, the indirect cause that all the others are yanderes, maybe??? an attempted introduction to what ___'s life was like in the mansion and his relationship with his first 3 brothers and a comforting scene with one of the brothers. I hope you like this attempt at a story, I'm still thinking of more ideas for drama and anguish and who could be the baby's father and new yandere

@kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213

[adrixivy]

No but imagining the batkids scattering away from a situation gotta be the most hilarious shit ever after Bruce caught them doing something they’re not supposed to do that even Bruce sometimes gotta hold back a smile.

Bruce, seeing one of the mansion’s living area a total mess with knifes and batarangs stuck in the walls, smoke still slowly dispersing from the area and broken furniture everywhere. His kids are all over the ground, breathing heavily. Normally he wouldn’t care but he’s hosting an event in his home today and Bruce is visibly mad. They won’t use the room for the event but the man is paranoid. “What is going on here!” He bellowed

Cue Dick screaming “Scatter!” And Dick flips out the window, landing perfectly on his feet from the third floor, Damian jumps out the window too with Alfred the cat hanging around the back of his neck, Jason grappling up into nowhere and actually disappearing, Tim is running into a different entrance to another room with Steph, Duke used his powers to be invisible and Cass just disappears into the shadows in broad daylight.

Bruce is left in the destroyed room, flabbergasted at what just happened. He holds back a smile soon after, not sure to be proud or laugh. Alfred is behind him, a menacing aura surrounding him because the man hates cleaning up last minute and Bruce is also suddenly gone, causing the butler to sigh. Alfred simply locks the door and blocks any entry into it.

Guests who happened to sneak up the third floor and sees the chained up room simply thought it was Bruce’s sex dungeon.

First DC headcanon post??

[elinorasims]

Lot Tour | Rock Ridge Castle Academy

World | Glimmerbrook Lot Size | 40 x 30 Value | Furnished 753,552 ; Unfurnished 204,816 Beds | 15 Baths | 8

CC | No Packs | Unrestricted

"In response to the Ministry of Occult Sims' astute advice that the tempestuous relations between Vampires, Werewolves, and Spellcasters be mended, and that occult Sims could reap many benefits through co-operation and joint ventures, Rock Ridge Castle has been host to budding occult teens for several generations, aiming to teach them how to harness their powers safely and collaborate to achieve great things together." Residential Rental Ver | 3 Units ; 152 simoleons/day Each unit comprises single occupancy butler's quarters in the basement, two shared bedrooms with space for three teens each on the upper floors, and two rooms on the top floor for YA/Adult occupancy - all other rooms in the building are shared. The gameplay idea I had here was that three 'families' of six teens (3 M, 3 F) with two YA/Adult 'teacher's occupy each of the three "rental units" - making, essentially, a mega academy style lot. I designed each 'unit' for a different occult type - vampire, werewolves, and spellcasters :3 fun or chaotic and stressful I dunno lol

INTERIOR

Ground Floor

Entry and main corridors with central 'winter garden' with domed glass ceiling. Communal library, den, art/music classroom, wc, potions classroom, dining room with shared kitchen facilities, herbology classroom, and meditation/'chapel' room.

First Floor

Four lightly themed bedrooms to sleep three teen sims each, two large communal bathrooms with shower, bath and wc stalls, den area, and candle making/misc classroom.

Second Floor

Divination classroom, woodworking/gemology classroom, two further communal bathroom areas, and two bedrooms to sleep 3 teen vampires each.

Third Floor

Six individual bedrooms for YA/Adults, two shared single bathroom spaces.

Basement

Large swimming pool, changing area, and laundry rooms. Butlers' quarters, storage rooms, and staff kitchen.

GROUNDS

FLOORPLANS + DOWNLOAD >>

[reticulating-splines]

WIP - West 70th

1880s-1910s row of Upper West Side townhomes.

Been working on this row of late 19th c. brownstones on and off for the past year now, so needless to say when I heard about For Rent I was hype.

Download Here

This initially started because I was homesick for NYC during the pandemic. Specifically for the area of the upper west side my dorm was in while I was a student. I mainly blame this experience for my obsession with historical architecture - walking along central park west past the Dakota on the way to the subway, smoking on the stoops of the brownstones late at night, going to classes in the wedding cake that is the Ansonia - it was just everywhere, and so, so beautiful to look at.

Except a lot of it is faded glory - buildings subdivided, details chipped or covered in the thickest coats of grime or paint. So I wanted to replicate some of the old New York from around the turn of the century. The one I read about in the Luxe series and saw in the Samantha movie lol.

The basement or garden level of each four-story brownstone will be dedicated to the original purpose as the main workplace of the service staff. Unfortunately no room for the actual garden, so laundry lines and planters are on the roof. There are bedrooms and bathrooms for a cook and a housekeeper/butler, along with the staff dining and the kitchen. The butler's pantry is directly upstairs from the kitchen, and the top floor is almost exclusively made up of staff bedrooms and washrooms.

I usually do the service areas first because they're the most interesting, and there was nothing more interesting than a full edwardian brownstone kitchen. Lots of exposed piping, beadboard, subway tile, and shelves of clutter. Has a separate scullery, pantry, and stairs down to a basement storeroom to keep your best champs-le-sims nectar in. There's also a servant's bellboard in the kitchen and the staff dining room. It along with the "boiler" system are made with tool and CC-free.

The main entrance and parlor are doing their best to continue the gothic revival theme of the exterior. The library and dining room follow in the enfilade starting in the parlor. Since this first house is a corner lot, it has a bit more width and space than a true brownstone. The only actual brownstone I've been inside of is Lady Mendl's, so ofc I had to have an extensive tea setup. Def took a lot of inspo from these two pics alone for these rooms.

The main stairwell and picture gallery lead to three large bedrooms on the second floor, and then up to the children's room and nanny's bedroom on the third floor. I really like skylights. I learned the importance of decent lightwells in staving off depression one semester when my window looked out onto a brick wall

The master bedroom and the children's room above it both have their own private sitting rooms and bathrooms. All rooms have either fireplaces or cast iron radiators.

There's no way this is going to be finished by the time For Rent comes out, so im just going to release it in whatever state it's in when it does come out. The exteriors and interior room layout for all the townhomes will (hopefully) most likely be set by then anyway.

Now available for download!

Also the anniversary of Chez Cromwell is coming up! Ive been gone for the better part of the year due to starting a new job, but I havent been idle. C.Cromwell has been updated for infants and ceilings, which led to me redoing the exterior and almost every room, so a rerelease is coming v soon! Sneak peek below. Happy Thanksgiving!

[theodorequartz]

[ His Companion ] Hazbin Hotel Various x Male Reader

Chapter 1: Naturally

Third person POV:

" RISE AND SHINE, MY BABY'S! ITS ANOTHER FUCKING DAY! ~" Blitzø yelled, kicking the door down.

Loona groaned and hid her face in her pillow. Meanwhile, a beautifully handsome male sat up, his hair still slightly messy, making him look more on the cute side.

" Morning, Blitzø..." The male yawned.

" Good Morning! Love of my life~" Blitzø said winking and finger gunning the male. Which was replied with a chuckle.

The male sat up and got to the bathroom to get ready. He walked out to see Blitzø in the floor with his face smashed to the concrete, it created dents from the force. He also saw Luna walk away grumbling.

He chuckled slightly and walked to Blitzø to help him up.

" Thanks for letting me stay for the night, Blitzø. I really appreciate it. " The male said softy with a gentle smile.

" Heh. No problem, babe. In fact, you can stay forever if you want~ ACK-!!! " Blitzø got hit by an empty alcohol bottle in the head. The male blinking in surprise.

" M/n's not your damn boyfriend, Blitzø! Stop fucking clinging to him everytime! " Loona screamed from behind the door, it's glass shattered because of the object thrown in it.

M/n chuckled and picked up the broken glass, cleaning the floor after helping Blitzø up again.

" No worries, little pup. Blitzø's behavior is totally okay for me. Everyone needs some affection now and then, do they? Especially since your work is full of violence. " M/n said also picking up pieces of little shard glass in his head, giving it a soft pat after.

Blitzø purred and his tail curled to a heart.

" Aww, n/n~ you're soo good to me~ " Blitzø said, hugging the male's legs and rubbing his head in M/n's waist.

M/n laughed in response and pat Blitzø's head once again.

Loona gagged at her dad- ahem. Adopted dad's words.

" Well, I'll be off then. I still have work to do. I'll see you both next week?" M/n said as he took his belongings and put his coat. Blitzø sighned.

" You know you can just work for me, right? Just ditch whoever your boss is. I'm better!" Blitzø loudly expressed his discontent.

M/n just sighned and shook his head gently. Taking Blitzø's hands off his hips and straighten his coat. " I'll see you soon, Blitzø, Loona. Stay safe, both of you, alright?" M/n said smiling.

Blitzø grumbled but nodded his head and turned around to pout. M/n chuckled and patted his head once more, nodding to Loona as she waved him goodbye.

M/n walked out the door and walked to the loud, chaotic street. Stabbing, shooting, drugs, drunks, killing, destroying, more killing, fucki- he turned away his head from that one.

He bumped on someone making him stagger. The other, however, fell down to their ass, and they didn't seem happy about it.

" Oh. I apologize, sir. Are you alright?" M/n asked the fallen demon, reaching out his hand to help him. The demon slapped his hand away, however, in rage.

" WATCH WHERE YOUR LOOKING AT, DUMBASS!!" The demon screamed at his face as he got up, holding his tie.

" Now, now, dear sir. No need to sort this out on violence." M/n said calmly, not affected by the situation at all.

Some demons watched the commotion. Others just glanced and walked passed by them, as if it's an everyday occurrence. Which probably is since this is hell and all.

The demon was about to shout at him again but stopped and looked at him up and down and smirked.

" Well, I guess we can take this matter on a not-so-violent activity~" the demon proceeded to grip M/n's arm and pulled him to an empty, dark alley. M/n didn't resist, he didn't have to waste his strength on a soon-to-be corpse.

The demon turned around and pushed him to the wall. The demon smirked and licked his lips, walking towards M/n with a lustful look in his eyes. M/n simply stood there, hands on his back, like a butler.

Not even three steps from the demon he broke out screaming.

Blood rushed out of his eye sockets. He gurgled as his tongue was cut out of his mouth.

As the demons body fell down in pain, a demon, dressed in all red. Red hair fading to black, two antlers and ears resembling that of a deer. A cheshire smile on his face. His eyes glitching. He filled the alley with sounds of static, that of a radio.

The Radio Demon. One of the most powerful sinners of all hell. He's mere presence can make anyone piss their pants, run off, hide, and be on their full guard.

But M/n is not anyone. He merely smiled and put his hand in his heart, bowing slightly.

" My lord." M/n said in a soft voice, a greeting for his master.

The radio demon. Alastor. Soften his cheshire grin to a relaxed smile. He twirled his staff in his hand and walked towards his companion.

" M/n, my dear! I'm sorry for the late arrival, just some business with the big boss! " Alastor said in a voice much like a radio host in a broadcasting radio. It's oddly charming. For M/n, at least.

The statics had gone down after M/n's voice was heard. It was as if the noice had gone to stop abruptly just to hear M/n's voice. To hear it clearly. The demons cries had gone out to, probably passed out due to the pain or Alastor made him pass out due to how loud he was being.

" His highness, Lucifer? " M/n asked as he walked forward, closing the distance between him and the deer demon.

" Precisely, my dear. Well, we didn't really have time to finish because" Alastor glanced at the passed out demon. His eyes dimming.

M/n blinked.

" My lord, you did not have to cut your time from such an important task to a simple cause as this." M/n said. " I could have just handled it."

Alastor turned his eyes to stare at his once more. He closed the distance, he lowered his head and caressed his companion's face. Just as the day they first met, his cheek was soft and felt pleasantly cold, chilly in his hands. His thumb glazed to his cheek as M/n leaned to his hand.

" I'll always choose you above everything else, my dear." Alastors words warmed M/n's heart. It itched and filled up his soul.

M/n sighed, content. He raised both of his hands towards the other's face as well, cupping it. He leaned his forehead onto his and closed his eyes.

" You're too good to me, my lord."

Alastor chucked and closed his eyes as well.

" Naturally. "

[at-wicks-end]

in another life (you still would've turned my head) ; jw

vampire!john wick x reader fluff !! (lowkey a reincarnation au) ~2.5k words

notes: this fic is written for @treedaddymcpuffpuff for the keanuverse secret santa event hosted by @97keanu <333 i hope you like this!!! this is probably the longest thing i've written on this blog 😵‍💫 happy holidays🩷

John cares little for the snow. It’s not that he found it cumbersome or annoying; it’s just that when one has lived for as long as he has, shoveling the snow from the driveway becomes a little too tedious, even for one well-versed in tedious matters. Such was the nature of immortality—given enough time, even the most unique, spectacular experience becomes boring after a century. 

This task becomes herculean (or Sisyphean, John corrects himself) when said driveway was practically a third of the length of his entire estate, which was also in the middle of the woods. His eye twitches at the thought of the snow that would inevitably impede the driving of his beloved Mustang to the nearest town. With a heavy sigh, John casts one longing look at his car, as spotless and as pristine as the day he got it decades ago. He’ll wait for the winter to pass before he brings out his car for a drive. For now, he thinks reluctantly, he’ll walk. He has more than enough time anyway.

It doesn’t take long for him to get ready. All he does is put on his long coat and wrap a scarf around his neck before heading out. He has no need for it, but it’s easier to pretend to need it than to deal with the constant concerned looks from the townspeople as he walks around. It also helped him blend in with the rest of the people walking around, doing some last-minute gift shopping for loved ones at those ridiculously overpriced boutiques. John blows out the candles in the hallways as he walks to the foyer, running a mental checklist of the things he had to put out or turn off before leaving.

Dog—yes, Dog. Comments about his creativity are not welcome—approaches him with a wagging tail, the soft clicks of his claws on the hardwood floors reminding John that he had to trim them again soon. 

“Hello,” John says warmly, squatting down to pet Dog. “You can’t come with me tonight. I’ll be walking, and it’s too cold.”

Dog woofs once, as if to complain.  John chuckles to himself, ruffling his soft fur before straightening himself. “You’ll be fine. I’ve already fed you dinner, haven’t I? I’ll be back later.”

After one last brief round through the manor, John mildly regrets killing the last butler, if only so he had someone else to do the tedious tasks instead. But then again, the last butler turned out to be some vampire hunter wannabe who slipped silver oxide in his tea one night. That gave him quite the sore throat, John thinks bitterly, locking the doors behind him. The poor man was stupid enough to think that a little silver oxide would be able to take him down completely, and didn’t even bother to bring a weapon. Truthfully, it was a bit insulting.

John trudges through the snow, out of his estate and into the woods. It would take him half an hour to get to town, and by then it’ll be almost ten in the evening. The town and its warm lights strung through trees and lampposts will be winding down by then, shop lights shutting off one by one. All the better for him; the fewer humans around him, the safer it was. At almost three centuries of existence, John was already well-versed in resisting temptation, but it didn’t mean he was fond of placing himself in situations where he could potentially snap. 

Behind him, his manor fades into the darkness, looking abandoned and more dilapidated than it truly is. For a moment, John squints at one of the towers. Hm. he’ll have to take a look at the top window sometime soon; it looked to be on the verge of falling apart.

He walks through the forest in silence, with no other sound to accompany him other than the sound of crunching snow beneath his boots and the occasional birdsong. John allows his thoughts to wander, his mind flitting from events that had happened over a decade ago and wondering what he would do a week from now. The year was coming to an end, and Winston no doubt is itching to drag him to the Continental for the Winter Ball.

Yeah, right. John snorts. Invite a bunch of vampires to one place. Never ends well.

The previous year, the D’Antonio siblings caused quite a scene by bringing untrained, unmarked humans into the venue. The younger vamps could barely resist tearing the poor things apart. At the very least, it had provided enough entertainment for the rest of the evening, according to Koji, an old friend of his.

He should probably give him a call this Christmas if only to check in, John muses. And send over a gift for Akira. What does one give to a young vampling these days anyway?

He’s snapped from his reverie at the sound of grumbling. He freezes, straining his ears to understand what the voice is saying.

“...this is so stupid. Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea? God. I’m gonna get eaten by wolves…”

There are no wolves in the area, John can attest to that, but this human seemed lost. And most certainly not a local, if they were out in the woods at night. He purses his lips, turning his head from the direction of the voice to the general direction of the town. He should be close by now, and the blood dealer was likely there already. John could just leave the unknown voice there to fend for themselves and potentially freeze in the dark. 

But what the hell, he thinks. It’s Christmas. This can be his good deed of the year.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he takes a sharp turn to the right and makes his way to the voice. His eyesight meant that the dark of night wasn’t truly dark to him, but he supposes that to a human, this was close to pitch black. It doesn’t take long for him to spot a figure huddled by the root of a tree in the dark, angrily poking at what looked to be their phone. Humans and their smartphones, John sighs internally.

“Hello,” he says slowly, not wanting to scare them. “Are you lost?”

The human flinches, looking up at him with wide eyes. Moonlight shines on their face just so, and John swears his undead heart would be pounding if it still could.

Oh, he thinks, breathless. It’s you.

You really shouldn’t have come here, you think mournfully. Your roommate brought you along with her for the holidays, feeling bad that you were going to be left in the apartment by yourself. It seemed like a good idea at the time, until you got to her hometown and she promptly dropped you off at the local inn and said goodbye for the week. After asking around for fun activities to do (that had nothing to do with the holidays, thank you very much), one of the younger locals suggested geocaching, now that quite a handful of people were developing an interest in it too. He told you to download an app that should explain things better, and you spent the better part of the afternoon looking things up.

This is supposed to be your third spot to check out, but the signal got worse somewhere along the way, and now your phone is dead too. Just your fucking luck. Somewhere, someone must be actively praying for your downfall because what do you mean you’re now stuck in the middle of the woods at night? You groan, angrily poking at the black screen of your phone when a voice calls out to you. 

“Hello. Are you lost?”

It’s a true testament to your strength, your bravery, your iron will, that you did not shit yourself at the sound of the voice. You look up at the tall stranger with wide eyes, noting that holy shit this man is gorgeous and you probably look like you’ve been crawling through all sorts of nooks and crannies all afternoon. Which you have been. So. 

“Hi,” you squeak. Okay. He doesn’t seem like an ax murderer, judging by his nice clothing…? Every bit of information you learned in those true crime podcasts you listen to has flown out of your brain, leaving you looking up at the stranger with your mouth parted.

The tall, dark, and handsome stranger looks at you for a moment before offering you a hand. “The town is that way,” he gestures somewhere to the left. “I’m… John.”

You mumble your name, taking his hand in a daze. Of course, you would meet an absolute Adonis on the worst day of your life (an exaggeration). You try not to swoon at his firm grip, or how he easily pulls you upright without so much as a sharp exhale. Whew. This is a man, you think dreamily, nothing like those slimy finance bros back in the city. Perhaps it’s your turn for a Hallmark movie romance. You, the city slicker with a hatred for the holidays, and this man, the local who’ll teach you the true meaning of Christmas. 

He repeats your name quietly, nodding. “I’m headed to town. We can walk together, if you want.” 

“I’d like that,” you respond, feeling breathless all of a sudden. Get ahold of yourself, you think desperately. You can’t fold for the first hot man that you see in the woods!

Your dreams of a budding romance, are crushed, however, when no further words are exchanged. Stealing glances at John’s (very handsome) side profile does nothing for your flushed cheeks, and his shy smile whenever he catches you staring makes you melt internally. The distant lights of the town coming into view make your heart sink. 

He appears to take pity for your plight and breaks the silence first. “Are you only visiting here?”

“Yeah,” you reply quickly. Too quickly. You swallow thickly, trying to play off your embarrassment. “I mean, yeah, My roommate just brought me along, so…”

“I see.” He nods. “How are you liking this place so far?”

“It’s like a Christmas village,” you say with disdain. The corners of John’s lips quirk up.

“I’m hearing some distaste in your tone.” He notes, amusement in his voice.

You scrunch your nose. “I don’t like Christmas.”

“Oh?”

“I just don’t like it,” you shrug. “You?”

John pauses, thinking for a moment. “I don’t mind it. I don’t think too much of it.”

“Pretty hard to do when it’s so… in your face,” you quip. 

“I’m good at focusing on what truly matters,” he says coolly, his gaze suddenly serious. Your cheeks feel hot again. 

“Oh. That’s nice.” You mumble, looking away, feeling strangely flustered. Are all handsome men just way too intense for their own good? “Are you a, uh, local?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, tilting his head towards you with a small smirk. “A local of the Christmas village.”

“It’s not a bad thing!” You laugh, caught off guard by his sudden teasing. “It’s just not for me, I’m sorry!”

He laughs with you, his deep voice almost melting into the cold winter breeze. Something inside you feels warm at the sight of his smile, and it’s not just because you think this man is hot. He doesn’t feel like a stranger, you think curiously. He feels strangely familiar, as if you’ve known the sound of his laughter for years. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that’s begging you to take his hand, to savor the warmth of his skin against yours and⁠—

“We’re almost there,” he states, looking straight ahead.

Oh. Right.

“Thanks,” you say softly, looking at him. “For helping me back there.”

John only shrugs, his features warmed by the light from the lamppost just straight ahead. “I have a knack for helping strays.” He smiles as if joking. “And I think you’ll find that you have a knack for being in the right place at the right time.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “‘Cause I met you, is that it?”

He gives you that smile again, as if he knows something you don’t. As if you should know what he’s talking about too. It should unnerve you, but it doesn’t. “Something like that.” 

The two of you eventually stop walking just in front of the stall selling mulled wine. “Well, this is me,” you say reluctantly. As charmed as you are by this man, you’ve retained enough of your common sense to not reveal just where exactly you’re staying for now. (If he wants to come up to your room for  a late night something, well… maybe you’re not totally against the idea.) “I’m gonna go walk around before I turn in for the night. You?”

“I’m meeting an acquaintance,” he replies, putting his hands in his pockets. Strange. He isn’t wearing gloves. 

“Good night, John.” You smile, reluctant to leave his side for some godforsaken reason. “I’ll see you around?”

“You will see me around the Christmas village, yes,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Good night, solnishko.”

Little sun. 

How do you know that?

You wave goodbye, dazed, watching as he disappears into the crowd. Your chest aches at the sight of him leaving, but you ignore it, deciding it’s time to turn in for the night after all. It’s been a long day of gallivanting, and getting lost in the woods did no favors for your poor feet. Sighing softly, you imagine the relief of finally taking off these godforsaken boots and warming up by the fire. You’re gonna sleep so good tonight.

Giving one last longing look in the direction John went, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. It’s just because he’s hot, you tell yourself. Yes, that’s just it. Nothing to do with how his voice makes your stomach do somersaults. 

(You will see him again, one way or another. Like John said, you have a knack for being in the right place at the right time, even when you don’t remember him. John only allowed the night to slip from his grasp knowing that the universe will inevitably bring you back to him, as it has many times before.)

(As it will continue to do so, for as long as your soul remembers him even when your mind does not. For now, John is determined to make you fall in love with him all over again until you have to leave.) 

John watches you walk to the local inn from afar, hidden in the shadows. So you hate Christmas this time, he chuckles to himself. That’s alright. So long as you still like him, he can make it work.

He’ll make it work.

post-fic yap: there we go!! i have never actually experienced snow in my life so i'm sorry if it's not super accurate :')) i really wanted to add some more stuff but my health has been in the dumps so i just did my best🥲 again, happy holidays! i hope i did your prompt justice🥹

[eternal-love]

Hey girl, I was wondering If you could Austin x Wife!reader. Maybe he talk about reader in interview or during press. Or maybe paparazzi bombard him and reader, on A walk? Or any scenario you Like.

LIGHTS, LABOR, ACTION!

Pairing: Austin Butler x Director!Reader

Summary: While being in the middle of filming your new movie, baby decides to come into the spotlight. But a moment that should be intimate, is ruined by paparazzi.

Warning: Childbirth description?

Note: I’m so sorry for taking so long, I haven’t been in the right mind space lately. But I’m back.

You knew you shouldn’t even be on set; even your doctor told you so. But your film was very behind schedule, and you needed to get it done. So you sat on your director’s chair. One hand on your big baby bump as the actors were getting their marks.

You were a director, you have done a few short films before, and under your name there were only two movies— this would be the third. A Sofia Coppola in the making.

Filming would be swift, if it wasn’t for the contractions you started having, you tried to push through them. You didn’t want to call off filming, or call Austin. He would tell you ‘I told you so’ and as the contractions got worse, you stared down at his contact on your phone.

“Is everything alright?” Your assistant asked as she walked closer to you.

“Mhmm…” you hummed in response, nodding your head as your hand gripped the armrest of your chair. The pain was basically unbearable.

“If you need anything you can—”

You didn’t mean to be rude, or snappy, or anything but God. His voice irritated you so much. “I know!”

Your assistant nodded as he knew he should probably shut up. You were ok your own, letting out labored breaths. Until a striking contraction hit you and you let out a loud whine. This was it, your water had broken. As you looked down at the liquid dripping down your legs, wetting the floor, your clothes and legs.

“Fuck.” You muttered as you inhaled and exhaled.

Didn’t take long for your assistant to drive you to your chosen hospital. And for Austin to call you.

“I told you! I told you! You should have stayed home with me!” Austin freaked out over the phone, you could hear him running around, probably throwing all you had prepared on the car.

“Right now it’s not the fucking time to nag me…” You said, your breath coming out on a hitch as contractions pained you.

“Oh God.” Austin said as he got into his car and started driving. He felt so desperate because he wasn’t there by your side just yet.

The private hospital took you in quickly, they asked your assistant for all your information as they prepared you for the birth. Inside your hospital room, you walked around, a hand on your lower back as you waited for Austin. Once you heard him come in, you turned around, your teeth gritting.

“What took you so fucking long?” You asked.

“Listen, I told you to stay home.” Austin said, putting all the baby bags and your bag on the couch. He walked closer to you. “How’re you feeling?”

You glared at him. “Like I’m in a field of roses, my love.” You said sarcastically, your free hand rubbing your baby bump. Urging the baby to come out.

Austin walked over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down. Which didn’t really help but you loved his enthusiasm.

“We’re in this together, remember, baby?” Austin whispered softly, he leaned down and kissed you softly. You were a sweating mess, but he gladly kissed you. His tongue sneaking inside your mouth as his hand went to your jaw. “Don’t forget it.”

You were told that childbirth was easy, that it was a walk around a park. No one ever told you that an epidural hurt to fucking much. Or that pushing would be so difficult. You had an idea, you just underestimated it. Specially since the epidural was a fail, you felt every inch of that pain.

As you were surrounded by nurses, a doctor and Austin, you pushed, squirming and whining in pain, why the fuck did your baby boy wouldn’t come out?

It was the worst experience of your life, and to have Austin trying to be supportive. You loved him, you truly did. But his words did nothing but stress you out more. You wanted him to shut up.

You successfully gave birth to your boy, one that cried very loudly, and wrath had a full head of hair already. As soon as they brought him to your chest, you held him close, chuckling as he stopped crying once he probably heard your heartbeat.

They did the usual routine of cleaning up both you and the baby, took you to the hospital room. The normal stuff. You finally rested. Austin was over the moon, he was more in love with you.

“Well done, baby. You— were amazing.” He held your hand as he sat by your side, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

“Austin, baby. I called you a cunt.” You whispered, if you laughed, it kinda hurt.

“I get it now. The doctor told me I talked too much. Sorry.” Austin apologized. “But what you did was amazing. I’d rather fight a bear than go through what you went through.”

“Hmm… I’d rather fight the bear too.” He chuckled as he leaned in and kissed your cheek. Holding you close for a while.

The door of the hospital room opened, a nurse came with the baby so you’d feed him. Austin already named the baby, Marlon, not your favorite name but you already knew it was because of Brando.

“I believe he has my nose.” He said proudly. You could only give an incredulous look. That baby looked just like you, to his disappointment but he tried to fool himself.

Did fatherhood turned him into this dumby airhead? Not that you complained but seriously, he behaved differently. You stayed at the hospital for a few days, trying to feel strong again specially after such painful birth. Many of you friends sent you gift baskets, from celebrities to childhood friends.

“From Tom and Z, how adorable.” Austin said as he had Marlon in his arms, he inspected the amazing basket you had just received. “Look, babe, your favorite chocolate!”

Austin threw the small packet towards you as he could. You immediately ate it. You still craved a lot of stuff.

“You’re like an angel to them. They’ve been treating you as if you gave birth to Jesus. All these gifts?” Austin smiled, he loved that his son was already loved by everyone. The baby fit right into his arms, he already loved the baby like he loved no other.

The day you were going to leave the hospital, you got ready, tried to wear the most comfortable stuff. Tried to keep yourself focused on the baby. And as you two made your way towards the exit, you heard it— paparazzi. With their loud voices and annoying cameras.

You instinctively held Marlon closer to you, and he instinctively held you closer.

“How did they even…?” He questioned himself, he didn’t know how they found out you were in this hospital. It was a private one after all. He was never fond of paparazzi, no matter beneficial it would be for his or your career. This was supposed a tender moment between you two.

“I should have gotten more presentable.” You muttered before you made your way outside.

Paparazzi swarmed you the minute they could. Their camera and flashes blinding your sight.

“How was the labor, y/n? Did it go smoothly?”

“Austin, did you cry when the baby was born?”

“Are you ready for sleepless nights, Austin?”

“Can we get a picture of the little one? Just a peek!”

“Thank you for worrying,” Austin managed to say loud enough for some of them to hear, as he tried to make you two get out the sea of paparazzi. It looked like a zombie movie scene.

All you wanted was to be home; with your dear husband and your baby. Without having a nurse, a doctor, your family or his family telling you if what you did was right or wrong.

As soon as you were inside the car, on the backseat, you secured the baby on the baby seat and finally breathed as Austin started driving. He didn’t say a single word. All you could see him do was clench his jaw.

When he helped you get inside the house, inside to the bedroom and into the bed. Baby Marlon slept peacefully in your arms, you only sang quietly to him. As Austin was by your side.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, he acted as if the paparazzi thing was on him.

“For what, baby?” You asked, as you stopped singing to Marlon.

“For those assholes. I promise you, next time— I’ll find a better hospital, I’ll be more intimidating. Because I love you. And I want what’s best for you.”

You couldn’t help but soften at his words. You knew he was always trying to improve, that’s why you loved him so much.

You found this as a chance to kiss him, tenderly, this man was perfect in any way. He was the kind of man your mother told you to get. The kind of man your father high-fived you for bagging. His lips were soft like a pillow, so plump and sweet. You enjoyed tasting them, feeling them, owning them.

“You were perfect out there. We’re in this together, are we not? I love you so much, you can’t even imagine it.”

You said, your free hand reaching for his cheek.

“And you said next time? Slow down, big guy. We’re just getting started.”

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to A Great House (19th-20th Century)

(I know, I've been slacking but I'm still alive)

When we think of the Victorians, the grand old Gilded Age or the Edwardians, we all think of those big mansions and manors where some of our favourite stories take place. But what and who did it take to run a great house?

Meet the Staff

Large numbers of staff were always needed to run great houses. Every department had its own management and its own teams, all working together to ensure everything ran smooth. There was both an interior and exterior team.

Interior

You can split the interior of the household into three departments: Service, Upkeep and Food Preparation.

Service

Butler: The Butler was the Head of all the household staff. He acted essentially as the manager of a great house, directing the staff on a day to day basis or at events on the command of the lord/lady/employer. Make staff would report mostly yo him and he would be in charge of keeping an eye on them. The Butler had charge of the wine cellars, the dining room, sometimes the pantry as well. As the manager of the house, Butlers were afforded the title of Mr. X. Our favourite examples being of course Mr Carson and Mr Pennyworth.

Valet: The valet was the male servant who handled the dressing of the men of the family. He would be in charge of his master's clothes, ensuring he was always dressed in the right outfit for the right activity (there was a lot) and be in charge of helping him into the outfit in question. The valet would also be in charge of cleanliness, sometimes shaving his master or running his bath. Valets were referred to as Surname and ranked in how their employer's ranked, for example the Lord’s valet would outrank his son's.

Lady's Maid: The lady's maid was similar to the valet. She was in charge of keeping the ladies of the house looking their best and handling their needs. She would style hair, care for jewels, mend clothes, care for clothes and often act as a companion, accompanying her lady on visits or day's out. The lady's maid was referred to by their surname.

Footman: The footman was a male servant who served at table, fetched items, handled heavy lifting such as luggage, opened and closed doors. Most footmen were young men and en chosen for good looks. Footmen polished the silver services at great houses and when called upon would often take on the role of valet to guests without a servant to help. Footmen were referred to as their firstname. Footmen were denoted by rank, the highest being first footman who had charge over the others and would assist the butler in some tasks.

Upkeep

Housekeeper:The housekeeper was second in command but she ran her most of the interior staff, especially those who took care of the house itself. She supervised all female staff. She helped the lady of the house when it came to running events and caring for guests. The housekeeper is always Mrs. Surname even when she's unmarried.

Housemaid: Housemaids clean the house. They would dust, make and strip beds, straighten things up and keep the house looking it's best. The housemaid was a servant that was almost never seen, usually rising early, lighting the fires, cleaning the house as the family moves from room to room. She was called by her Firstname.

Scullery Maid: The scullery maid is the lower ranking maid. She would also have been younger and less experienced. She was in charge of the more unsightly work: laying the fires, scrubbing the floors, emptying chamberpots, cleaning servant's chambers. She may even do mending and washing for other servants. She was called by her first name.

Hall boy: The hall boy was also young and handled the worst jobs. He would polish boots belonging to the family and sometimes staff, cempty the servant's chamberpots and waited on on the higher ranking servants. He was called by his name.

Food Preparation

Cook: The cook or chef was the third highest ranking servant downstairs and they ran their own department. They were in charge of the kitchen staff. All cooks and chefs would meet almost daily with the lady of the house to discuss menus and ordering but would answer to both housekeeper and butler. As with the housekeeper, a female cook or chef is Mrs Surname despite martial status and make cooks/chef are Mr.

Kitchen maid: The kitchen maid helped the cook/chef in preparing the food. She would be one of the first servants up, in charge of lighting the ovens and starting the breakfast for the family and servants. She would clean the kitchen, boil water when needed and bring food up to the servery when needed. She would be called by her first name.

Exterior

The house would needed a team on the outside to handle the stables, the gardens and any outdoor activity.

Gardeners: They would be responsible for the upkeep of the grounds itself, caring for the gardens. There would be multiple at a great house led by a head gardener.

Stableboy/groom/kennelmaster: They would take care of the family's horses and dogs. They would take care of tack, help plan hunts and riding pursuits and handle carriages.

Chauffeur: As automobiles became popular in this period, a chauffeur was needed to drive the family and take car of their motor.

Lives of Servants

Servants were paid very little at this time, mainly because most staff got free room and board. Most of the interior staff would live in the house itself and be supplied meals. Chauffeurs, gardeners etc would live nearby on the estate either as locals or be supplied a house as a staff member. Staff uniforms were also supplied. Days off were rare but not withheld. Permission was needed to leave the house either to visit the shop or take a few days off.

Servants were expected to be obedient, modest and humble at all times. They were expected to stand in the presence of their master's, speak only when spoken to and never question an order. They had to be ready for anything at the drop of a hat. You've set for a dozen guests but now there's five more coming? Tough luck, change the table settings. You get seasick? Nevermind that, your gentleman is going across the sea and as his valet you're going with him, like it or not.

Servants from one house often travelled to with the family to their other residences: the butler, footmen, chef, kitchen maids, lady's maid, valet would all go with the family while everybody else would get left behind. Every house would have its own housekeeper if it could be afforded. Housemaids and other staff needed could be hired locally when needed.

The Daily Routine

The working day of a servant in a grand house was a long arduous one.

Morning: At 6am, the servants rise. The scullery maid gets up and begins lighting the fires, starting with the kitchen. Then she cleans the kitchen top to bottom before the staff get in to cook. The kitchen maid would rise at the same time, helping with the cleaning. She would set for the servant's breakfast and start cooking it. The footmen open the shutters upstairs, cleans whatever tools they will need such as glasses and silverware, tend the lamps and sets for breakfast upstairs. The housemaids go about the house cleaning up after the night before, starting in the rooms that aren't being used (any room that's not the bedrooms). At around 8, the cook rises and starts the day. The kitchen maid serves breakfast to the other servants before returning to the kitchen to eat her own breakfast with the other kitchen staff. After breakfast, the housemaid will change her apron and deliver hot water to each of the bedrooms for the family. At 9, the family rise. Married women have breakfast in bed with all other family members and visitors eating in the dining room. Valets and lady's maids would have dressed them prior, gathering up any clothes to be mended or washed. The footmen and butlers will serve while the housemaids go into each empty room and begin their chores.

Midday: Just before midday, the chef would speak with the lady of the house to discuss menus. At around 11, the staff were permitted their first break, just enough time for a drink usually a cup of tea before they started again. The chef would start preparing for the main dinner of the evening with the lady's approval. Footmen would take their places at entrances or attend the family where he may be needed. At noon, the servants would have their dinner. At 1, the family would sit for their lunch. Once lunch is over, a footman might be permitted to attend personal business (with permission from the butler first) or be sent on errands out of the house such as delivering messages. While the family sit for breakfast, the maids tidy up any room they have been using since getting up.

Afternoon: The family take tea around 4. The footmen clear the tea before heading down to take their tea - a light meal- with the other servants around 5. Afterwards, the footmen will start to light the lamps, close the shutters and draw the curtains. The butler would oversee the laying of the table for dinner with the footmen. The first footman carries the silver, the second the china, while the butler sets the silver and glasses. If a guest is coming, a footman will remain on the door to see them in.

Evening: At 8, the footman or butler signals the start of supper. This is done by the rinibg of the gong or bell which gives the family and any staying guests, 15mins or more to get ready. Valets and lady's maids would already be upstairs at this point, helping their master/mistress. When the family head downstairs, they linger in the drawing room to chat while a footmen keeps an eye on them. Any guests visiting for dinner would be let in by a footman and announced upon entry. The butler announces dinner and escorts the family in. The footman serve the food while the butler pours the wine (chosen by the Lord with the butler's help). The footman stay in the dining room all throughout dinner, excepting when they go to the servery to collect the food from the kitchen maid. They serve and clear the plates for every course. When dinner is over, a footman will stay with the men while they drink their port while another serves the ladies their coffee in the drawing room. While dinner is on, the housemaid would tidy the empty rooms, check the fires and turn down the beds. At 9, the servants eat their supper while the family chill. When supper is over and the family is done for the night, the valets and lady's maids would ready their masters for bed. A footman would wait in the hall with candlesticks for the family and show any departing guest out. The kitchen staff would start to clean up while the butler starts locking up the house. The staff would get to bed about 11:30 - 12.

[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt. 3

Nightmare (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Since y'all seem to really like the demon butler concept, I made another one, also because I wanted to. This one isn't quite as long or plot heavy, but I thought this was cute and I was in the mood for hurt/comfort. I'm such a sucker for this trope. Content Warning: Semi-graphic descriptions of violence, panic attack Series Masterlist

Crimson blood. Fractured bones. Broken limbs. You lie on the ground, shivering, panting, crying. Your muscles betray you, unwilling to obey your command to move as you could do no more than stare. Your legs are limp, only dead weight as you try to crawl in what's a pool of your own blood, you presume. The sting of your aching fingertips sears through your mind, dragging yourself across the floor through sheer grip strength. You don't get very far with your pace, you're far too exhausted and injured to escape. Drowsiness overwhelms you and your eyes beg for rest. Everything blurs, you're only able to make out the color of the concrete floor and the scarlet that seeps from your body. 

A shadow approaches, looming over you as it nears, reaching out its hand. 

And you lurch forward, jolting awake. 

Heart palpitating and breath panting, you wake up to sweat-covered silks and a dark bedroom, alone. You clutch your chest as the closest attempt of grounding yourself, your nails digging into your skin as you struggle against the bed sheets. Finally, you're released from the silk confines, and anxiously flounder over to your nightstand, a shaky, desperate hand searching for the nearest light source: the nightstand lamp. You turn it on after another few moments of fumbling for the switch and then the room illuminates slightly, enough to allow you to find the handle of the knife beside the bed. Your eyes skitter back and forth across the length of your bedroom in search of anyone, and realize, with a shuddering relieved exhale, that no one was there.

Still, the hold on the handle doesn't loosen one bit. You sit up right in your bed, your panicked and alert mind anticipating for an intruder to come in, a monster to come out of the shadows. 

Then there's a knock. On the door. 

Everything inside you stiffens, your gaze hyper fixated on the door as you raise the blade in your hand to a ready position. Another series of knocks occur, and then the doorknob turns with an audible creak that echoes throughout the still room.  

Metal flies from your hand as you throw the knife with pinpoint accuracy at the newcomer, but the figure merely catches the blade in between two blackened fingers. You don't even manage to register the extraordinary feat that was just done, only the onslaught of terror that reigns over your thoughts, ridding all sense of rationality and awareness. 

They've come to hurt you, they've come to hurt you, they've come to h-

“My Lady?” a familiar voice sounds out, one that you found comfort in. You search for it, but she's not there. Where is she? Where is she? Where is she, she's not here, no one's here to save you, you were never saved-

“My Lady,” the same person calls out again. 

Where is she? Why can't you find her? The steps of heels click against the wooden floor and near you, and you know that they're coming. Yet, you can't find your resolve to do anything in your state of paralysis, and once again you're now in the cell where you were beaten, broken, and bloodied, and they've come to do the very same things to you once again and you can't even lift a finger to do anything, not even to scream. Your voice is gone and you have no way to escape as they round the bed, trapping you, encasing you. The silk covers feel like shackles, heavy despite the thinness, your limbs are entangled and they reach their hand out to hurt you once again-

“My Lady,” the sweet voice repeats, and this time it's closer, much closer. It's the third time she calls out to you and you only want to hide in the security she provides. “It's me. I'm here.”

The figure that stands by your side does nothing. It doesn't move, but you try to anticipate its next movements. Why aren't they hurting you again? Why haven't they done anything yet? 

“It’s Arlecchino. Say it.” 

That's right, the voice is Arlecchino. Summon her, summon her, only she can protect you, only she can keep you safe, you need her. You open your lips to speak and you're able to dislodge the obstruction in your throat as you whisper the softest of calls. 

“Arlecchino,” you rasp out, voice strained and hardly audible, but it's not enough. You extend out your hand, seeking hers. More choked and fragile pleas escape your lips. “Arlecchino. Arlecchino. Arlecchino, Arl-"

A hand, cold to the touch, and black as the abyss reaches out, clasping with your outstretched one, intertwining your fingers. Despite the chilling contact, it warms you and soothes your beating heart, each labored breath lessening. A physical reminder that she's here with you now. Your eyes traverse over the ebony skin, from the red fingertip nails, which trace your skin tenderly; to the palmar, with its distinct markings and lines; to the wrist, covered by the carmine ruffled ends of her sleeves; from her sleeves to the entirety of her, until you recognize the figure standing by your bedside is her, your demon. 

She's here, you recognize. 

It's ironic, how a demon is able to quell your fears, dissipating them as easily as she does with your enemies. This being of hell, this monster of terror, this inhumane being, surpassing capabilities far beyond human, consoles–how much blood has she spilled with this very hand that you hold? Are you that decrepit, deprived of human connection that you find quiet solace in this creature’s hold?

You're hardly surprised. 

Her touch lingers as your breathing finally evens out, slowing to that of its typical pace. During that time, she says nothing, only the steady flow of oxygen in and out of you filling the room, and it seems like hours before she breaks the silence. 

“Would you like some chamomile tea?” She asks, raising a hand to brush a strand aside from your face. You finally notice the cup of tea she's placed on the nightstand. With a shake of your head, you scooch forward in the bed, giving you ample space to finally lay back down, your hand still grasping onto hers when you turn on your side, back facing her. 

“Arlecchino.” You whisper out breathlessly, but somehow, she's still able to hear. 

“Yes, my Lady?” 

There's a brief pause, before you answer, “You'll do anything I say, right?” 

“As per our contract, yes.” 

Another moment of silence, this one longer than the last. “Turn off the lights.” 

She does. The room returns to darkness but you're not nearly as disturbed by this anymore. 

“Do demons sleep?” You inquire. 

“Though our bodies don't necessitate it, we can slumber.” 

Again, the state of wordlessness falls between the two of you. Arlecchino nearly pulls away, but your grip on her fingers tighten. 

“Stay.” Then you add quickly, “That's an order.”

Arlecchino’s low chuckle echoes throughout your bedroom. There's the shuffling of fabric, some movements made by the butler but her hand remains in place with yours. Shortly after, she raises the covers and slips underneath. Her cold front presses against your back and her breath brushes against your nape.

“Will you stay the whole night?” 

“I'll stay as long as you want me to, my Lady.”