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thisgirlnamedblusy · 4 months

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My beautiful, stupid maid

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, Donna's POV

Word count: 5,080

Summary: I don't know why I don't want you to leave...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

I thought I like to be alone.

Everyone told me: you need some company. They don’t know me. My family, as they call themselves, care about me, or so they think they do. I don't need helpless maids running through the halls. I don't need to waste time on people I don't care about. My life doesn’t revolve around achieving power, around needing the feeling of being above others, like my siblings do.

I was always a lonely woman, and Mother Miranda's gift could change many things, but not that. Not that.

Angie was everything I needed.

I know what they think about me, what they talk about: “Poor Donna, she's so lonely…” “She's not mentally developed,” “she only cares about her stupid dolls…” Comments that they think I don't hear.

To be honest, I never cared about that. I know what I’m, what place in the world there was for me. My dolls, my house, my loneliness. Sometimes I lose my mind and cry without wanting to. Sometimes I want to end the meaninglessness that my life has become. Angie takes me away from those thoughts, she calms me down. I didn't need anything but to keep serene and continue existing.

At least I thought I didn't need anything else.

Then you showed up.

“Mother Miranda has granted me the honor of working for you, Lady Beneviento,” you said, appearing in my house, in my territory. In all this time, many villagers had been stupid enough to approach my house.

None of them returned. Thanks to the gift that was given to me, I could enjoy seeing the fear in their eyes, seeing how terrible their thoughts are. At first I had to admit that I was even afraid of myself.

The human mind is so fragile... How much people can suffer just with their own memories is incredible. For some reason, I didn't feel the need to torture you.

You seemed shy, but you didn't stop smiling, even with my fervent refusal. I couldn't disobey Mother Miranda, and I couldn't stop looking into those bright, strange eyes.

Angie was just a lost part of my consciousness, some thoughts that left my mind when I granted her the gift of life. She thought that for you to work for me was a good idea. Not me.

I didn't even know your name, but I opened the doors of my house to you. Who was I to argue with Mother Miranda's demands? Maybe I just got carried away with Angie.

I tried to avoid you. I didn't want to think that you were here, with me, that I was no longer alone. But you... You came to me, like a fly to a light trap, blinded, surely by your innocence, heading towards danger.

“Is everything to your liking, my lady?” “Would you like me to make you some tea, my lady?” Always those stupid questions. Hearing your voice was nothing but torture for me, a reminder that you were still there, that, no matter how much your presence bothered me, I was not capable of throwing you out or of making you hallucinate so you would run away from here, so you would never come back.

Silence was always my response, the affirmation that I didn't want you to be here. I have never had the ability or the need to talk to anyone, not even to my siblings. You were not going to be an exception.

My lady... What stupidity is that? I didn't want to be your lady. I didn't want you to consider yourself my property. I was alone, and I liked it.

Unfortunately, time only revealed your annoying presence. My routine is always the same and to trip with you was inevitable. I curse the Black Gods for turning my gaze towards yours.

What a maid... You were clumsy. You didn't know how to clean properly. You served no purpose other than to disrupt my existence. But I could never hurt you. It didn't matter how many vases you broke, how many times you burned the food. I felt incapable of scolding you, of throwing you out of my house.

Someday I woke up with the decision to put an end to that stuff, to make you suffer and disappear forever. Those thoughts faded the moment my hidden gaze met yours again.

That smile, those eyes... That messy hair and the dress that framed your figure made me back away, give you another chance. Chance? I didn't want you to be here. I never wanted you to come to my house. I didn't want to see your stupid smile. I didn't want to, and yet, I felt the need to see you.

Are you also a creation of Mother Miranda?

I know that she experiments on villagers, that she creates aberrations. Could you be one of them? What exactly has the Cadou done to you? Were you some kind of sorceress?

I've read too many books about witches, about mermaids who trick sailors into taking their souls. I always thought they were stupid stories to scare children. But the more I look at you, the more I think you're like a witch from those stories, or like a mermaid. Do you want to trick me into taking my soul? Too late, girl, it's been a long time since I had a soul.

“Good morning, my lady, did you sleep well?” you asked every morning. My ability to ignore you faltered over time. Anyway, I couldn't lose anything by nodding.

That was my worst mistake, making you believe that I was somehow communicating with you. That small gesture gave you more confidence in yourself. It made you believe that you could annoy me even more.

One night I tried to relax, sit by the fireplace and read another of those mermaid stories. Suddenly, I felt the need to know more about these creatures. Somehow, I was afraid that you were one of them. That the movement my head made, forcing me to follow you with my gaze, was some kind of spell from you.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you said to me, with the nerve to put a hand on my shoulder. I was startled, but I knew how to hide it so you wouldn't notice.

I nodded for you to talk, even though I didn't want you to, what is happening to me?

“I'm a bit bored, I was wondering if you could recommend me a book,” you said with your hands together in front of your body, with that formality that I knew you didn't have.

I was thoughtful for a moment. My hands shook as they held Homer's Odyssey. Your mermaid song was not going to be able to defeat me, you stupid maid.

“A book?” I asked without realizing it, letting out my voice, a voice that I hadn't used for a long time and that I didn't want to use precisely with you. I had to calm down, or you would trick me.

“Yes, well... Books about plants are interesting but...” You said, looking away from my hateful gaze.

Did you mean to joke? What made you think you could joke with me? Moron.

“I've been looking for something a bit more entertaining but I can't find anything. Also, most of them are in Italian and I… Well, I can’t read them.”

I shook my head. Fortunately, you couldn't see my face. A smile involuntarily spread across it.

“My family was Italian,” I said in a hoarse voice, giving her an absurd explanation, which she certainly didn’t deserve.

“Oh, okay,” you whispered nervously.

Why were you nervous? Oh, sure... In these three months and five days you hadn't heard me speak. I have a horrible voice, right? I'm sure you hate me even more now. Everybody hates me.

The light from the fireplace rested on your face, dancing in your eyes, on your skin. Have you hypnotized me? I couldn’t stop looking at you.

I sighed listlessly, looking for an excuse for your eyes to stop enchanting me. I got up from the couch, looking for something that would keep you entertained, quiet. Your voice is beautiful, but I don't want to hear it. Beautiful?

“For whom the bell tolls... Ernest Hemingway,” you said when I finally gave you a book so you would leave me alone. You just had to take the damn book and get out of my sight. It wasn't that difficult, was it? “It’s a good one?”

“Yes, it is,” I responded with a dry throat, nervous about the subtle contact my hand made brushing against yours. When I touched you, the porcelain of my dolls came to my mind. Soft, delicate…

“Thank you, I promise that tomorrow I won't burn the toast,” you said amused, were you trying to make me laugh? Good luck with that.

Something had changed in your attitude. I wondered if hearing me talk had anything to do with it. I didn't want you to be here. I hate you, stupid maid.

Time passed slowly. I found myself counting the days, the hours you spent with me. Your overconfidence was disgusting. Some nights, you sat next to me, reading that book, commenting each of the things that seemed curious to you. I have already read it, you silly maid. I don't need to hear your... Your beautiful voice.

I've never been right in the head, I know that. Since I was little I had problems. Problems with my appearance, with people... I have never gotten over it and I never will. My past is a field of thorns that stick into my skin every night when I try to sleep.

But... My demons were not keeping me awake, your eyes were, those two beautiful pearls that you had on your face, ones that I couldn't stop looking at. What are you doing to me? What is happening to me? I feel weak, tired. I'm not hungry, I'm not sleepy. I don't feel like getting out of my bed, to face your gaze again.

Sitting at my old dressing table, I look at my deformed face in a mirror. I'm a monster. I should have gotten used to seeing myself like that, to having that horrible thing on my face, just as I got used to the changes in my body when I became Mother Miranda's daughter.

I felt my heart sink as I looked at myself in that mirror. A deformed monster, a strange creature, an aberration. Those statements that were going through my head were more present than ever.

“What's wrong, Donna?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap. My sweet and faithful Angie, I don't know what I would have done without you.

“I'm a monster, Angie,” I murmured, with a tear running down my untouched cheek. I can't tell how many times I have burst into tears because of that. That night was different.

“No, no, that's not true,” the doll said. I wish I could believe her words. Angie was my creation. She was part of my consciousness. She would never hurt me... I don't even know what Angie is exactly anymore. “The maid likes you…”

“What?” I said startled.

I know Angie wanted to make me feel better, but she was never particularly good at it.

She couldn't lie to me. She didn't have the ability to do so.

Do you like me? What nonsense. I know you don’t. I know it's impossible. Anyway…why am I worried? Why I didn’t stop thinking about those words?

Love is a luxury that I could never enjoy. Loving a woman, being loved... Those were just fantasies in my head, a fictitious feeling that, like mermaids, only lived in my books.

Every day I kept seeing your stupid… Beautiful… Smile. You were still here, you hadn't left. I couldn't say when I started to worry about you leaving. I didn’t want you to be here but... I didn't want you to leave. I had never felt so many contradictions at the same time. I had never suffered so many anxiety attacks in the safety of my room.

You never saw me lose my temper. I didn't want you to see me like that. For some reason, I didn't want to.

I tried to push you away, but you were getting closer, touching me with your dress, touching my hand when you handed me a cup of tea. Were you really the one who did it? Was my hand subtly caressing your skin? It didn't seem to bother you either.

You were still here, like every day, torturing me with your eyes, with your smile, with your movements when you walked near me. Your gaze was tender and respectful, but your body wasn’t. Your body caused sensations that I always ignored in me.

“That doll is beautiful, Donna,” you whispered, taking my tea to the workshop. That place was always a refuge, the only place in the house where my thoughts were not focused on you.

“Thank you,” I said. To let my voice speak for me didn’t take long. I had been doing it for so long that I no longer stopped to think why it wasn't difficult for me to do it with you.

“Look, it has my eyes,” you said amused, gently picking up the newly made doll.

A heaviness in my head said there was something wrong. Yes, you were right. That damn doll had your beautiful eyes. Wait, shouldn't I say: That beautiful doll had your damn eyes?

“Yes, well, I...” I stammered, confused. I hadn't even realized it. Even without thinking about you, I was doing it. Even when I made my dolls, I put your same hair to them, your eyes, the marks that I could see on your skin… I was no longer safe even in my own workshop.

“It's very nice,” you whispered, returning the doll to me with a sigh. “Anyway, I think I should start making the soup… You liked it with a bit of dill, right?”

“Yes... I... Yes, yes,” I stammered, nodding, but without looking at your face. I was just looking at the doll, at your vivid portrait made unconsciously. I could no longer deny how obsessed I was with you, that I thought about you even without doing it.

I refused to believe it was love or anything like that. At night I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what spell you had used on me. Your eyes stopped appearing in my nightmares, and now they were present in my most beautiful dreams. In them I see you, I see us together, close, with our hands intertwined. They were just dreams... Dreams in which I don't have that horrible thing on my face, in which your eyes shine when you look at me, in which your lips... In which your lips are too close to mine.

I felt unable to ignore the sensations that the mere fact of being close to you caused me. Love is something absurd, a waste of time. Everyone wants to hurt you, Donna, don't forget that.

My head fought with my heart, with the trembling of my hands when I was close to yours. You always were here with that smile, with that look, making me unable to think about anything but in your lips on mine, in your body very close to mine.

The nights got worse. Drawing your image in my thoughts usually helped me to stay calm and sleep, dreaming about you. Not anymore. I can no longer let myself be carried away by my feelings. The sensations were different, physical, overwhelming. I no longer imagined your smile, or a simple kiss. No, now your body was naked next to mine, now my caresses no longer wandered over your face, but over your chest, your waist, your legs…

Lust is a sin, or so my parents said. I was never ignorant, or stupid. My body had needs, and even more so after the change that Cadou produced in me. I thought it was routine, something necessary...

One more task to be calm, to relax. My mind traveled to unknown places, imagining faceless women while I soothed myself with my hands. It was pleasant, but empty, lacking in feelings or the desire to do it. I simply wanted to relieve my body so that my mind wouldn't become destabilized.

That night, my body was calling me again. No matter how much I tried to get my excitement to relax, I wasn't able to do so. I wanted something, my body wanted something, and I had to give that to it.

My hands moved down my nightclothes to my trembling erection, stroking it gently. Maybe it was my impression, but I could feel much more than other times... The difference? There were no longer faceless women in my head or erotic stories hidden in one of my books. I was thinking about you.

I felt the need to end that discomfort between my legs as quickly as possible and for some reason, I thought that including you in my lascivious thoughts might help. Quite the opposite. The pleasure of my hand going up and down, the gasps that came out of my mouth involuntarily made me want to go slower. I wanted to keep thinking about what it would be like to be inside of you, to hear you moan with your mermaid voice, to see you closing those bright eyes while I made you mine.

My movements were fast, but intense. My head was imagining how good it would feel to have the images in my head come true. To release myself didn't take long, but I felt I enjoyed doing it too much.

Cleaning myself in the bathroom, I looked the mirror again. My face was red and my breathing was labored. I wiped my hands with a towel and stood there, looking at my reflection, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought that everything I dream of were just fantasies.

I felt guilty for enjoying myself at your expense, for masturbating thinking about you, but... I also felt frustrated by how absurd was to think about how far my feelings had gone. So much so that I lost the little decency I had, the deal I made with myself not to fall in love, not to feel the need to hug a human body instead of a porcelain doll.

In my incipient desperation, I called my sister Alcina, telling her everything that was happening to me. Angie gave me nothing but absurd advices. I needed the opinion of someone more... Experienced.

It was of no use to me. According to her, my need to make that stupid maid mine was absurd. “You are a powerful woman, Donna. If you want something from that girl, just take it. She will never contradict you, for her own sake.”

Everything was so easy for a woman like Alcina...

A dark part of my mind seriously considered following her advice. I never felt remorse for torturing those stupid villagers, why would I feel remorse for taking what I want to make mine?

But no, that part of me that I'm ashamed of had to shut up. I couldn't just… No, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted to. I wanted you in an unbearable way.

The nights were torture, the days were even worse. At least at night I just had to imagine you, I didn't have to feel you, I didn't have to touch your hand. Yes, you kept rubbing your hand with mine. Have you ever done that? It was me? I wouldn't know how to answer. I would like to ask you, but I don't dare to do it.

You are killing me, you stupid, beautiful maid. You kill me slowly, you make me fall in love with you without mercy, you look at me, you talk to me... You are here with me. I’m here with you. You don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave.

One afternoon, I tried to escape from my carnal desires, from the feelings that filled my head. I was painting dolls, sewing without rest. I had been doing it for hours, I didn't know how many.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you said politely, entering disrespectfully, interrupting my bitterness.

“What do you want? I'm busy,” my words were cold, lacking that softness with which they always spoke to you.

“I'm sorry, it's just that... It's just that I... I have to clean this up. It's the last room before being able to rest,” you said shyly. Was it me or your cheeks were blushing? What were you thinking about? You were thinking about another way to fool me? Stop it. You've already done it. I feel that if I were a sailor, I would already be drifting, desperately searching to hear your siren song again.

“Okay,” I said briefly, avoiding your tender smile, looking at that doll, looking at your eyes on it again.

As you moved around my workshop, my clumsy and trembling hands made the task of painting correctly impossible. With you here, to concentrate was impossible for me.

My thoughts began to spin out of control as I tilted my head to look at you. There you were, leaning over one of the dusty tables. You looked at me, like you knew I was doing the same thing. I looked away and squeezed my hands tightly.

If you want something from her, just take it.

The phrase my sister said appeared in my head suddenly, treacherously, just at the moment when my crazy gaze was directed at the small spot that you had very close to your neckline. One I couldn't forget.

My actions took control of my body, causing me to get up slowly, like a shadow that stalks you without realizing it.

I wanted to tell you so many things... I wanted to be able to talk to you about my feelings before approaching you from behind, running a hand through your hair, brushing it away from your shoulders.

You stood still, but you didn't complain, you didn't turn around and slap me for my impudence. No, you seemed like butter under my touch, under my hands on your shoulders, on your neck.

An unexpected gasp left your lips as I got closer and closer, feeling your subtle but intoxicating perfume, feeling the heat of your body passing through my dress.

“I can't stop thinking about you...” I whispered without meaning to, confessing an undeniable truth, confessing that you are not the stupid maid that I didn’t want to have. You were the girl I wanted to love.

“Donna...” You sighed, when I removed the veil from my face to place my lips on your pale skin, behind your perfect ear.

When I started to be just Donna to you? What about the my lady thing?

Kissing your skin was like a cold breeze on a hot day, like laughing when you're sad. It was a feeling of relief, of pleasure.

Even being behind you, I could feel your heavy breathing. What did you feel? Were you in hell or in paradise?

I couldn't know and I didn't want to know. My hands worked on their own, covering every inch of your body while my mouth was cruel to your neck.

Having your chest in my hands, passing my fingers through the fabric that covered your breasts... All that things I imagined at night were mine in that moment. A part of my conscience was screaming for me to stop, to be sure that you wanted to do it. No, dear maid, I wasn’t going to ask.

You turned around slowly, letting my hands continue roaming your body. You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to run away.

“I think about you too...” You whispered, moving my black veil aside. There was nothing to fear anymore. You would be with me or you would disappear from my life. My face didn't matter. I didn’t care if you thought I was a monster. I was willing to force you.

Your smile remained tender, relaxed at the sight of my exposed face. There was no horror in your eyes, disgust in your gaze. No, there was only… Peace, tranquility, and that smile that kept me awake at nights.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” you said, bringing your hand to my deformed cheek, running your fingers over my scar, as if it were nothing, as if it were of no importance to you.

I grabbed your wrist to stop you before leaning towards you, before placing my lips on yours. I had never kissed anyone and I was thankful I hadn't. Your kiss was my first one.

Little by little I moved closer, making your back collide with the edge of the table. I couldn't stop kissing you. I didn't want to stop kissing you. Your lips were addictive. They were everything I had imagined. Your body against mine, your hands going down my waist, you and me...

I could no longer contain my desire to make you mine, to love you, to make love you. I was willing to force you to do it, to not listen to your screams, to make you run away. I didn't have to. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who rubbed my hands with yours. You did it too.

My need to love you was put before romance, caresses, kisses and affectionate whispers in your ear. I had spent too much time thinking about how I felt about you. I didn't want to tell you, I wanted to show you.

I lifted your body by your legs, sitting you on the table, drowning in your kisses, letting my hands touch whatever they wanted... Just like yours. I felt like such a simple act was more than enough to feel my arousal rubbing against my underwear. You were irresistible, a goddess, a mermaid, a witch... But above all, you were going to be mine.

I looked at you, wishing it wasn't a dream and you were really there. You smiled again. What have you done to me? What did I do to you? Have you fooled me? Have I tricked you? Did you also think of me as if I were a mermaid?

Absurd questions that my body didn't have time for. I needed you, my beautiful maid. With a hasty movement, I put my hands into your dress while you hung around my neck, making to concentrate on loving you harder for me, kissing me eagerly, with a desire that I was unaware of.

Your underwear disappeared around your ankles as your hands left my neck, to play on my chest, to free me from my own clothes. Were you in a hurry as I was?

When I finally had access to you, my body moved on its own, lifting your legs slightly, remaining enthralled by those hidden corners of your body.

You didn't say anything about what was between my legs. You just looked at it curiously. I don't like being looked at, tesoro, you should know that.

You bit your lip, but you didn't say anything. You just pulled me so that my erection rubbed against your wetness. There was nothing else to say, but there were a lot of things to do.

I entered you hastily, feeling a wave of unimaginable pleasure. I was not delicate, nor kind. I didn't know if someone had ever loved you, I didn't want to know either. Your walls hugged me tightly, keeping me right where you wanted, making you moan in a way that I already knew would drive me crazy.

You had more clothes than in my dreams, but the sensations you sent to my body every time they moved exceeded my expectations. You hugged me so well... You took it so well... You were perfect, as if your body was made just for me.

“Don't stop, Donna...” You begged, writhing on that table. My thrusts had relaxed as I looked at you, as I closely admired your beauty without the veil between us. I just shook my head, kissing you passionately as my hips resumed their movements.

“I think... I think I love you...” I whispered with a voice low enough so you couldn't hear it, camouflaging it between our moans. There came a time when I decided to close my eye and not look at you anymore.

Behind you, the dolls that I made rested, looking at me. They were judging me. I wasn't going to let my problems ruin that moment. My sick mind was not going to stop me from continuing to make love to you.

“My God, Donna... I'm so close...” You murmured, ignoring my declaration of love. Why would I want you to answer me? I said it in a way I which you wouldn't hear me.

My hips went out of control and my arms hugged your body, keeping it close to me, not letting you stop hugging me with your walls, not letting me stop making my way inside of you.

I stopped just when the pleasure became unbearable, letting my heat flood inside you, releasing myself inside you, making you mine forever.

You panted, exhausted. Your nails had scratched my skin as I cum. Did that mean you did it too?

“I think... I think I love you too,” you murmured, responding late to my statement, to my confession, hugging me, kissing me with affection, with that affection that I lacked.

“Don’t dare to leave,” I said with a dark voice, before consuming myself again in your kisses.

“I won't do it,” you answered on my lips, keeping me inside of you, not wanting to separate you from me.

I thought I liked being alone, but now I know I couldn't live without you.

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot

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spicybunni · 3 months

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Love Bites

I’ve had this lingering headcanon that all the Lords in RE:VILLGE need blood to appease the cadou inside them?

Summary: Some headcanons/descriptions of how the Lords in RE Village bite you for the first time/ how they use you for your blood 🩸

WARNINGS ⚠️ blood, injury to reader, biting , rough handling, violence to reader, yandere tendencies

DONNA BENEVIENTO

🪡 - Yandere vibes with this one and you can’t convince me otherwise.

🪡- You were visiting the estate to give Donna some fabric she had requested from the village. You were one of the estate’s gardeners so going to the mansion was no big deal, besides getting a glimpse of Lord Beneviento from time to time.

🪡- She had to have some excuse for you to come into her manor alone. For some time she has been observing you from all windows of the estate and concluded she needed to have you, taste you, lock you away…

🪡 - She would trap you in once you placed the fabric on the table inside. You would panic at the sight of the doors slamming on their own, being in a dark and creepy manor such as Benevientos.

🪡- She would sneak around you in silence once she has you trapped. The dolls would move on their own in excitement and anticipation like their master. The whole atmosphere is making you panic with paranoia.

🪡 - Appearing in front of your vision suddenly with her arms outstretched to you. She rushes over before you could react. Suddenly being embraced by Lord Beneviento makes you stay still with shock, not knowing how to respond. You realize that her usual veil was missing too. You feel her hair tickle the side of your face.

“M-My Lord??…What are yo-“

“Silence.”

🪡- An unknown force would make you go nonverbal before feeling a sting on your neck that gradually gets worse. Donna is very sadistic when it comes to inflicting pain. So your whimpers and groans are music to her ears.

🪡- She would let go with a pop of her lips, licking an excess blood dripping from you. Looking directly at you once she is done. Having the biggest grin on her face, blush on her cheeks, and a little bit of your blood dripping from her mouth.

🪡 - There’s something so perverted about how she just wants you to herself, to play with and drink from.

🪡 - She will gladly leave you alone in the manor if you refuse to let her drink or give her resistance. Watching as you dodge unimaginable horrors chase you down to your new bedroom where she awaits you.

🪡 - Just holds you after she feeds from you. You would be pretty weak from how much she drinks from you to not oppose her cuddling.

“I can’t let you leave, I won’t let you!”

SALVATORE MOREAU

🐚 - Oh man, this guy is even more awkward than Donna when it comes to interacting with villagers.

🐚 - He would wobble out from his spongey abyss of the docks, and come watch you work on the windmill. You've had your share of encounters with Moreau, but always found it creepy he would watch you for a moment before approaching you.

🐚 - His bloodlust would not overtake him completely, he just had this urge to be around you all the time. He could never romantically love you since he held that spot for Mother Miranda, but he did favor you.

🐚 - One day you managed to injure yourself while hammering nails into wood. The hammer smashing your finger and breaking skin. You cursed to yourself and it seemed to draw Lord Moreau out of hiding to reach you. You jumped at first but calmed down when you realized it was just him. You showed him the little cut in your finger, signifying that you were alright. He offered you a handkerchief from his cloak to clean the blood dripping from your finger.

🐚 - You hiss at the sting of cloth rubbing against it, but it quickly subsides. You were going to toss it later, putting it in your pocket. The Lord blubbers out "W-Wait! Noo..I can take it if you'd like.." He says disappointedly. You raise an eyebrow at his reaction, but he's technically your boss so you return the handkerchief back to him. "I'm sorry it's dirty my lord, are you sure you want it back?"

🐚 - His pupils were dilated, his mouth agape as he watches the liquid is soaked up by the cloth he gave you.

"It's no t-trouble at all, I shall go fetch you some proper bandages..."

As he waddles away, he hides quickly from your view behind a boulder and sniffs the handkerchief and bites into it, trying to wring out any blood.

He would end up almost eating it before wanting to preserve your essence. 🫣

ALCINA DIMITRESCU

🩸- You were one of Alcina’s favorite servants. You knew all the rules like the back of your hand. There was no reason to brag about it though, you have done a lot precautions because you’ve seen what happens when you don’t follow in line. You just kept your head down and avoided her daughters like the plague.

🩸- Alcina does have a preference for man blood that she mixes in her wine. But she loves the taste of a fearful and devoted servant from time to time as well.

🩸- She would summon you randomly to her study, sending a maid to fetch you. The maid would look at you with pity. Nobody usually see's the lady alone unless its the head maid/butler or if you are getting fired. You respond with haste and drop whatever it is that you are doing to go there. Rushing through all servant corridors and arriving out of breath.

🩸- You would be filled with anxiety over what she could possibly want with you. She tells you to come in and to take a seat. You open the doors to your Lady in reading glasses with papers and books organized everywhere. She walks over to you as she closes up what she is doing. Towering over you as she approaches.

🩸- Much like a predator to a prey, she would circle around you as she makes small talk. And you make small replies back. She would make comments of how you are such a good servant to the Dimitrescu castle, making you turn red at the praise.

Stopping behind you, she leans down to whisper to you. Making you shake where you stand.

"-but you know Y/N, your most delicious quality is.. your obedience."

🩸- She would grab you from behind and drag you to the loveseat nearby, making you sit in her lap with your back against her chest. She uses one hand to raise your left arm up to her lips, the other is wrapped under your right arm and gripping your head in place. Your screams and cries of protest were not heard by her as she sunk her fangs into your forearm. The pain was awful, it makes your hand cramp and muscles sore from straining in one position.

🩸- If you kept freaking out as she drank from you, she would use the hand gripping your face to cover your mouth instead. Such a dreadful noise.

🩸- She wouldn't drink enough from you to make you faint, but you are most certainly weak and not in any shape to make a quick escape.

🩸- Shifting your position in her lap, she would move to carry you to her chambers for the night. All you see illuminating through the dark halls of the castle were those terrifyingly golden eyes of hers, peering down at you in her arms.

🩸- Would only approach you for your blood after the first bite, even if it meant stealing you away in front of everyone.

🩸- Will throw you against the wall if you refuse to give blood.

🩸 - Your neck and arms would be littered with dark lipstick and bite marks.

"Consider it a promotion, Y/N. You are now my new favorite drink."

KARL HEISENBERG

⚙️- This man is half lycan, of course he consumes blood.

⚙️ - He tries to reserve himself from drinking blood for as long as he can. To him it’s what separates him from his other monstrous siblings. He does get a vial from another Miranda every now and then, scolding him that he needs to take better care of himself.

⚙️ - His eyes would be blood shot and constantly have headaches when he craves blood. He’s more irritated and is easily pissed off. Making him take out a lot of rage onto his machines.

⚙️ - If it’s that time of the month for him when he transforms and joins the Lycan pack for a hunt, then there’s no controlling his blood lust.

⚙️- Meaning if you were to pass by in his factory, covered in sweat and body hot from working near the factory fires, he would pounce you immediately. Or if you were to approach him asking “Lord Heisenberg…are you alright?” He would grab you by the hand and hold you from behind, biting into your neck.

⚙️ - His bites are the worst, they are so painful it would make you well up with tears and hyperventilating after your initial scream of agony.

⚙️ - With his intense bloodlust he would most likely drink you dry, or be very close to killing you, making you go limp in his hold either way.

⚙️- If you woke up, it would be in an office/bedroom in his factory. Your neck would be bandaged and sore. You go to touch it but your hand is restrained by a cuff to the bed post.

⚙️ - He realizes its a better solution to his lycan transformation, just having a person for his own feeding so he doesn’t harm the village. At least that’s less of a bother Miranda which means she leaves him alone. Problem solved! But not for you. He would limit your exploring to only one side of factory, isolating you from the rest of your old coworkers who wondered what happened to you.

⚙️ - Will not hesitate to drink from you in his Lycan form as a punishment for refusing him. Which is way worse than dealing with his “human” form.

⚙️ - Is not great with wound aftercare besides bandaging your bite marks. He just treats you like a meal and would leave until he gets hungry again. Doesn’t bother talking with you unless it’s to give you an order.

“Normally I would have let you go, but I never thought a villager would be so tasty. So now you must stay. Or face becoming one with my factory Y/N!”

MOTHER MIRANDA

🕷️ - You just really have no choice when it comes to the villager leader. You are to do as ordered without question or face her wrath like everyone else.

🕷️ - Her interest in you only went so far as seeing how devoted you were to her. You would always offer yourself as a volunteer to help her or do small favors for Mother Miranda. Were you a good person? Maybe. Were you actually just trying to get in her good graces? Yes.

🕷️ - Miranda didn’t usually partake in consumption of blood. She left that sort of activity to her children mostly. From time to time however she would taste the samples in her lab of villagers who passed or failed her experiments for the Cadou. She would feel her body react positively to the small drink.

🕷️ - Recently she was feeling weak and exhausted every time she used her powers. Drained of all energy at the stupid meetings with her children regarding this pitiful village. She thought that she could try you out, and if you died in the process? Well, she could consume another.

🕷️ - The cruel thing is that she knew you wouldn’t refuse her request. You would do anything to be helpful or if use to her right? So just be silent and still.

🕷️ - “You want to help me don’t you, Y/N?” She asks with a malicious tone in her voice.

🕷️ - She would be up close to your face, her glowing golden eyes piercing into yours as she holds your face in her hands. She would slowly guide her hand behind your back, arching you and supporting your weight. Moving your face to one side, she would lean down and bite.

🕷️ - There is only a little pain from the puncture, but the sting of her sucking you blood out makes you yelp and twitch in her arms. You thought this would be over quickly but her lips have yet to leave you.

🕷️ - Once she has a taste it was difficult for her to stop. Her black wings come out and flutter as she drinks from you. In your vision, all you see is her blond hair and wings extending out before you fall into a slight blood loss slumber.

🕷️ - After the first taste, she did not want to let you go. You would tell the whole village how she abused your devotion just to take from you. As she locked up Mia in a isolated cell she would do the same to you. Except you were given more than Mia was. A bed and table with books. Your basic needs were met but your life was changed forever. Becoming only a blood pack for Mother Miranda to feed off of when she was feeling low. If you dared to give her any trouble in feeding from you she would discipline you until you understood your place, restraining you with black tree roots and muffling your cries with her hand as she would have her fill of you.

#alcina dimitrescu #re8 village #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil imagines #alcina dimitriscu x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #salvatore moreau #donna benevento x reader #mother Miranda x reader #resident evil village yandere #yandere donna Beneviento

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rallamajoop · 9 months

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Translating the original RE8 trial scene storyboard

RE8’s bonus DLC concept art pack includes a couple of pages of an early storyboard for the trial scene, dating to back when Miranda was still going to be a foreign researcher rather than a village native, and Ada Wong was still part of the cast. Though the text is all in Japanese, I had a crack at translating it ‒ it makes for a fascinating comparison to the finished game.

Images and translations are under the cut below – but here’s the dot-point version of how this older storyboard compares to the finished one.

Instead of Miranda, the trial is overseen by a masked figure called only ‘shaman’ (祈祷師). Instead of lycans, the trial is attended by numerous villagers, all eager to see Ethan punished.

This may be the big one: the shaman claims an ‘Adam-sama’ has been angered by Ethan’s (unspecified) crimes. My best guess at this mysterious ‘Adam’ is that it might be a name for the megamycete. Whoever he is, all the 'Eve' connotations of Eva/Eveline (and even the Rose flasks) suddenly start to sound a whole lot more significant.

Even here, the trial is dominated by Dimitrescu and Heisenberg fighting over who gets Ethan – or at least who gets his body, after his execution. Dimitrescu still wants his blood, while Heisenberg presumably wants him for soldat-material. Moreau briefly makes his own bid, but he just wants to eat Ethan.

Donna’s one act is to apparently stop time at a crucial moment to speak directly to Ethan without anyone else hearing – though this seems to be an illusion she creates while contacting him psychically. No sign of Angie, who probably isn’t part of the game yet.

Rather than escaping through Heisenberg’s gauntlet, Ethan is rescued by Ada Wong (disguised behind a plague mask). I’m guessing Heisenberg’s role as pseudo-ally hadn’t fully developed while Ada was still supposed to be involved.

Conflict between the lords seems to be framed more as conflict between separate houses/families. Heisenberg makes a reference to ‘us Heisenbergs’ (perhaps this is from the time when his mother, father and twin brother were also supposed to be characters?) and Moreau to his ‘Kuku-family’.

Though the name ‘Heisenberg’ does appear, he’s mostly called ‘Geek’, while Moreau is ‘Half-fish-man’ (半魚人), and Donna is simply 'Spirit' or 'Ghost' (心霊). Lady Dimitrescu is the only character who is actually called that (though it’s mostly abbreviated to just ‘lady’). I could not tell you why a Japanese dev team would decide that ‘geek’ was a good moniker for their heavy-metal-Frankenstein-wannabe, but here we are. (Note that most of the game files associated with Heisenberg are still labelled ‘geek[something]’, so clearly this was a moniker that stuck. Donna’s files are almost all called ‘ghost[something]’. Moreau and Dimitrescu mostly get shortened/mangled into 'moro' and 'domi'.)

Heisenberg and Dimitrescu actually come to blows over Ethan in this version, with Heisenberg launching his hammer at her and seemingly killing her, or at least blowing her away. But I think we can take it as read that even in this version, she'll show up okay and be back to torment Ethan later.

Oh, and did I mention this little addendum at the end which hints at Miranda doing some kind of surgery on Chris? WTF?

Standard disclaimer for all my Japanese translations: I’m nothing like fluent, and rely on online dictionaries for a lot of harder vocabulary. Corrections from anyone better qualified are welcome.

Okay, on to the actual translations! I'll include the full pages as we get to them, but I'll also break them down into smaller chunks so I can share and translate smaller chunks as we go through.

Page 1

[Ethan wakes up to find he can't move because his handcuffs are chained to the floor]

[Ghost-nobles and villagers buzzing in the church]

[Banging noise as shaman bangs his staff]

Shaman: "Everyone, quiet!"

[Church falls silent]

Shaman: "I have heard from each of the lords. This man's crime threatens the very foundations of our family! Lord Adam is furious! To allow this man to live will bring disaster upon the village! Only his death will appease Lord Adam's anger!"

[Cheering from the crowd]

Lady Dimitrescu: "In that case, after the execution, the Dimitrescu family shall receive the victim. My daughters haven't had nearly enough blood to drink of late."

Geek (Heisenberg): "Oi, wait a minute. From what I've heard, you witches have had it your own way long enough."

["Geek" burns Ethan's hand with a cigar]

Geek: "Us Heisenbergs will be taking this one, got it?"

[Ethan shrieks in pain]

Lady: "Didn't you have several victims sent to you just the other day?"

[Half-fish-man (半魚人) walks up to the Geek]

Half-fish-man (Moreau): "Oh, grant him to my Kuku-family, I.. I want to break him open and eat his insides!" (Note: I think Moreau's actually saying something even more colourful here, but I'm having trouble translating it)

[He approaches Ethan, parasites emerging from under his hood]

["Geek" halts him, brandishing his hammer]

Half-fish-man: [Groaning noise]

Lady: "I will not allow you two to do as you please!"

Geek: "Hm, how to settle this?"

Half-fish-man: "Oh, oh…!"

[Rising noise of cursing onlookers]

[Geek raises his iron hammer]

Page 2

[The moment he throws his hammer at Lady Dimitrescu, a halucination begins and time seems to stop. Direction and focus of camera fits the spirit]

Ghost (Donna, in a voice no-one else can hear): "….(You… have summoned him… receive your reward…)"

[Reality returns]

[The hammer pierces Lady D. and blows her away, part of the church collapses. Panic as villagers fall or die]

Geek: "Don't worry. Your corpse will become my plaything."

[A mysterious masked figure appears and fires three shots into Heisenberg, five into the shaman]

Masked figure: "Run!"

[Cuts the chain holding Ethan to the floor]

Geek: [getting up] "..what the…?"

Shaman (still full of arrows) yells to the villagers: "What are you doing! Don't let them escape! After him!"

Masked figure: "This way!"

[Still handcuffed, Ethan runs through passages before finally making it outdoors]

Page 3

Masked figure: [while reloading crossbow] "Your daughter is alive. Go get her back, okay?"

Ethan: "What are you…"

[Masked figure sees someone coming from behind] "No time, go!"

[Ethan screams as he's thrown over the railing]

[And here endeth the storyboard]

Page 3 Addendum

This brings us to the latter half of Page 3, which contains only a single column of panels. Remaining space features an extra half-page of Miranda in her original foreign-scientist incarnation, pictured with what I assume were some of her experiments. There's some text on these too ‒ hand-written rather than typed, which made it a right bastard to figure out. But I had a crack anyway, because even at a skim-read it had me going, "wait, does that say the monster is Chris?"

Yep, it does. The captions (as best I could make them out) read "Miranda's paranormal organism experiment" (奇生体の実験) and "After plastic surgery on Chris' face" (クリスの顔に整形後).

This only raises so many more questions. Is Chris actually working with Miranda, or has she captured him for experiments? Is she repairing Chris' face after some horrific accident? Is she altering some monster to make it look like Chris Redfield? Or ‒ in a far more entertaining possibility ‒ was this meant to be an in-game justification for why RE7's Chris looks nothing like he does in RE8?

I have no answers for you, but you can really feel how much this game changed in development just from these little glimpses of what might have been.

#Resident Evil Village #Karl Heisenberg #Lady Dimitrescu #Mother Miranda #Donna Beneviento #Salvatore Moreau #Chris Redfield #Ada Wong #meta #RE lore #Resident Evil #cut content

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dragongirl642 · 4 months

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heyyy i just read the werewolf shifter hc! it’s great, along with all your others. do you think you could do donna and alcina reaction to a s/o who is very tall (like 7’6”) and is a bigger person. but can cook really well? keep up the great work! <3

Thank you Glad you like my headcanons...here's some more 😎👌

Alcina Dimitrescu

She thinks you are a god/dess. Something divine, a gift plucked from the heavens that she is eternally grateful for.

She likes the warm feeling in her chest that blooms whenever you cuddle on a couch together or she sees you getting along with her daughters.

You're just so soft, and kind, and strong, and tall, and smart, and funny, and beautiful, and talented, and...she will wax lyrical about you in her diary.

If you're a woman, her earlier entries will be plans to drain "the new maid", which then slowly morph into poetry.

If you're a man, her earlier entries will be filled with shock and anger over the "useless butler", which then slowly morph into notes on what her "filthy but cute manthing" surprised her with today.

If you have any insecurities about your body or your appearance, she will loudly proclaim how ridiculous your insecurities are and love-bomb you. She may even read you some of the poetry in her diary about you.

She appreciates your height and strength.

Will shamelessly ogle you when you're doing any chores or heavy lifting.

However, she will avert her eyes and make a comment about "decent attire" if you wear any sort of crop top or tank top and shorts while completing said chores/heavy lifting. (She is secretly swooning.)

When you're anniversary was coming up, you scoured the town and castle to find recipe books and experiment with making vampirism-friendly meals.

Black pudding, blood soup, roasted bone marrow and other organ meat meals.

Alcina won't admit it, but she almost cried when you presented her with your one-year anniversary meal surprise.

She always talks (brags) about your cooking skills with the other Lords.

She will "suggest" you write all the recipes down and "helpfully" leave the necessary materials lying around in places you frequent. She wants to have something to remember you by.

Alcina doesn't want you dead. But she knows the village (and her castle) is full of dangers. Mother Miranda. Feral lycans. Her own daughters (who don't try and eat you only because you feed them and Alcina has firmly, sternly, told them not to touch you).

Once she loves you, she lives with the knowledge she will one day lose you and secretly fears losing you earlier than the end of your natural lifespan.

The Lords will feel like they know you before they meet you.

Heisenberg will make sarcastic comments about how Alcina has lost brain cells since meeting you, but he's secretly overjoyed that Alcina keeps derailing meetings to talk about you.

Some of them (cough Mother Miranda cough) don't like the effect you have on Alcina.

If it got to the point when she had to choose between you or Mother Miranda she's not sure who she would choose.

If it's in the first two years of your relationship, she may choose Mother Miranda while internally crying over the loss. If it's after the first two years (especially after five years) she will choose you, prepare for her battling for you in her mutated form (also, she may even put aside her hate and join Heisenberg's revolution plan for you).

Donna Beneviento

You'd better hope you don't have pediophobia (fear of dolls).

Will climb you like a tree. (just kidding 😅)

But seriously, you picked her up one time (probably to, like, make sure her dress didn't get wet in a puddle or because she tripped and you caught her by sweeping her up into your arms) and she felt so safe and secure and at home in your arms that now she just wants to live in them.

Angie will also try to climb you to get a height advantage by sitting on your shoulders. She feels safe up there. Not to mention she can swear at people without fearing reproach (until you pluck her off and put her back on the ground that is).

Angie acts like Donna's subconscious without a filter and will blurt out compliments or make comments about how cool you are in meetings. She also loves nicknames.

If you're a woman, prepare to be called "Sugar Babe" and "Amazonian hottie."

If you're a man, prepare to be called "Captain Cutie" and "Mister Hunk".

No matter your gender, she may make a plush doll of you for herself.

If you have any insecurities about your body or appearance, she will use the doll to point out all the things she loves about your appearance and basically love-bomb you every day until you're brainwashed and can't remember why you were sad.

Evening cuddles are mandatory. Donna loves your cuddles.

Beware, Angie will want in on any cuddles.

A few of the other dolls might want in too, but they will just be waiting in the background sending you hopeful looks. If you aren't pediophobic (scared of dolls) and tell Donna group cuddles are okay, prepare to be swamped in multiple wooden dolls wrapped in wool and ruffles.

Donna thanks her veil every day for hiding the fact that she is shamelessly ogling you when you're doing any heavy lifting or chores around the manor.

With enough compliments and support, she will feel comfortable removing the veil around you. (Although she will hastily put it back on to hide her blushing).

She absolutely loves your cooking. I repeat, Donna LOVES your cooking.

Before you moved in, three warm home-cooked meals a day were a rarity.

If you write the recipes down, she will learn to bind books just to handmake you a book to put them in.

Tea parties are a regular occurrence in the Beneviento Manor.

You make the food and Donna makes the guests (literally).

Please, please, please let her make you an outfit for the tea party.

Actually, she will want to make all of your clothes. Prepare to be the main model, muse, and customer of the Donna Boutique.

You are Donna's favourite doll.

She thinks you're the most gorgeous person she's ever met. prepare to be given so many tailored clothes.

Coincidently, you also have a set of doll helpers/bodyguards Donna gifted you. They're little butler dolls, who's job is to follow and protect you from Mother Miranda under the disguise of being your little helpers. You can throw/launch them at anything that threatens you, they love it.

Speaking off, Mother Miranda does not like the effect you have on Donna. She will plot to kill you.

If she gets scared enough, Donna may go to Heisenberg and ask for help creating a weaponised soldier doll for you, (which is really just a terrifying amalgamation of a lifesize soldat and a doll in ruffles).

#re8 headcanons #re8 #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #alcina dimitriscu x reader #donna benevento x reader #re8 x reader #resident evil x reader #re8 donna beneviento #re8 lady dimitrescu #re8 alcina dimitrescu #re8 lady beneviento

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push-tet · 3 months

Text

VVBS FAMILY DECREPATION DROPED!

+ new familys

I also updated the family descriptions from the previous post here. Like last time, I have provided a link to the wiki for new sims to understand the reference

Albany wanted a big family, and he got it without paying attention to the growing strife from within. Meanwhile Goneril has been having a secret affair, in which she found a lifeline and a chance break free from her old beliefs in order to openly express her genuine thoughts and feelings. Will Mrs. Capp be able to go on with it or will she once again withdraw into her shell for the supposed family “stability”? And will Miranda, Hal, Desdemona and Ariel carry on the Capp pseudo-traditions, or smash the establishment to smithereens?

Antonio Monty’s emotional state and career are sinking to the bottom of a “grape juice” bottle. Will his children be able to help him recover from the loss or is he going to need the outside help? Where has Hero disappeared to? Was it an alien abduction, like how it happened to that lady in a red dress? Or does Regan Capp have something to do with it, since Hero wouldn’t stop going on about her until the day she vanished into thin air?

Regan and Cornwall had to move from the big city of Belladonna Cove back to the small Veronaville due to unsuccessful financial shenanigans. It appears that these two will have to move in with, in Cornwall’s own words, a no-good, insignificant, useless and lazy Regan’s younger brother until the duo gains the strength to start all over again.

Bianca Monty has always dreamt about children, and someone from above gave her a clear answer by leaving a young and eccentric Benvolio on her doorstep. Recently, however, the young mother has been feeling uneasy and is growing distant from her adoptive son. How does Benvolio feel about this and is he aware of the reasons behind his mother’s anxiety?

The Snout (my post) - Zhung (wiki link)

Madam Snout, a fashion photographer and designer, once belonged to an influential family of tea planters – the Zhungs. But one day Madam’s worldview took a 180 degree turn and she fled to Veronaville with her daughter in tow to start a new life away from her strict family. Things went on as usual until one day Madam’s mother, Madame Yingtai herself, appeared on her doorstep. What could be a reason for Yingtai to make a surprise visit to her “prodigal” daughter?

The Macbeth - Gloucester

“What did the wise and strict Ladya find in such a sad-sack as Erlolf?” - that is the question which has been puzzling the minds of the upper class even after Ladia’s passing. Can it be true that that stroke of lighting boosted Erlolf’s luck up to 10000%? Can luck be inherited? Ask the brothers, who need to split the inheritance and one of them needs to continue their mother’s legacy. But, all things considered, one of them wants to take MUCH MORE of what is due.

yeha sorry I haven't been particularly active here lately because I worked very hard (and studied at the same time) to FINALLY FINISHED MY PROJECT🎉🎉🎉

The process went faster thanks to my good friends

I hope this month I will be able to give a presave for download, BUT the hood is available so far only in RUS

so until the translation is ready, I will try to make more vv:bs content!

#the sims 2 #ts2 #veronaville #vv:bs #custom neighborhood #sims 2

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irishskeptic · 4 months

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Riordanverse race/nationality headcanons (Main characters and background characters alike)

This may be a very long post, and I’m throwing in little tidbits about appearances, so with no regard to any particular order, strap in:

(Seriously, this is a huge post)

Edit: Changed Luke from just Korean American to mixed Argentinian/Korean American, inspired by @tagthescullion

The Seven (Including Nico and Reyna):

Percy Jackson: Biracial White/Latino, Cuban American (Sally was born in Havana, she had Percy shortly after moving to the US)

Annabeth Chase: Biracial Black/White, Irish/African American (with Swedish, Ghanaian and Polish descent)

Jason (And Thalia, by extension) Grace: White German American (Beryl moved from Germany to the US)

Piper McLean: Native American, Cherokee

Leo Valdez: Latino, Mexican, Born in Texas

Hazel Levesque: Black, African American, New Orleans (1940's French Creole)

Frank Zhang: Chinese Canadian, Vancouver

Nico Di Angelo: White, Italian with Russian descent, 1920’s Venice

Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano: Latina, Puerto Rican

Camp Half Blood:

Will Solace: Biracial White/Bangladeshi American, Texas

Luke Castellan: Mixed Argentinian/Korean American (Born in the US, May (or Mi-Hee) grew up in a Argentine Korean community in Buenos Aires before she moved to the US and met Hermes)

Malcolm Pace: White with albinism, Scottish, Glasgow

Travis and Connor Stoll: Mixed Scottish and Laotian, Edinburgh (Source: @freddie-77-ao3)(I think in the TV show, they cast two Asian boys as the Stolls, so I've made them Asian)

Alice Miyazawa: Japanese American, Los Angeles

Julia Feingold: White Luxembourger, Luxembourg City

Cecil Markowitz: White Austrian/Northern Irish (Born in Graz, grew up in Belfast since he was two, has dual citizenship)

Katie Gardener: White Scottish, Aberfoyle

Castor and Pollux Vintner: Black, Irish (Pollux is Albino, Castor wasn’t), Donegal

Michael Yew: Mixed Irish and Chinese, Limerick (Granny moved from China)

Lee Fletcher: White Irish, Donegal

Clarisse La Rue: Mixed French/Pakistani American, Arizona (Mother moved from France)

Chris Rodriguez: Afro-Latino, Nicaraguan (Moved to the states when he was seven, lived in the same neighbourhood as Clarisse)

Silena Beauregard: Blasian, African American and Filipino, Mississippi (French descent)

Charles Beckendorf: Black, African American

Jake Mason: White American, Wyoming

Harley Smythe-Davidson: Biracial White/Aboriginal Australian (Source: @freddie-77-ao3)

Nyssa Barrera: Latina, Panamanian, Panama City

Shane O’Doherty: White Irish, Laois

Christopher Chalkevas: White Greek/English (Born in Larissa, moved with his mother to Hackney, London at age five, has dual citizenship)

Clovis Karlsen: Wasian, Welsh (Welsh/Norwegian grandad, Indonesian granny, Source: @ashthenerdtheythem)

Chiara Benvenuti: White Italian, Florence

Alabaster C. Torrington: British Indian, English, Westminster

Lou Ellen Blackstone: Black with vitiligo, British Ghanaian, Birmingham

Drew Tanaka: Japanese American, New York City

Valentina Diaz: Latina, Colombia

Mitchell Singh-Donovan: Mixed Indian and Irish, Cork

Lacy Alfsen: White Danish, Copenhagen

Ethan Nakamura: Japanese, Tokyo

Damien White: White Irish, Northside Dublin

Miranda Gardiner: Vietnamese American, Massachusetts (Distant Irish ancestry)

Billie Ng: Wasian, Irish/Thai Canadian, Toronto (She grew up in Longford till she was seven, then she and her mortal dad moved to Canada)

Sherman Yang: Chinese American, Alaska

Marcus (Mark) Dooley-Wallace: White Irish American, Georgia

Ellis Wakefield: Black, Algerian

Holly and Laurel Victor: Sri Lankan American, Seattle

Meg McCaffery: Wasian, Irish/Vietnamese American

Camp Jupiter:

Dakota Cheshire: Black, Bermudian

Gwendolyn Nunez: Hispanic, Spanish American

Bobby Herrera: Latin American, New Mexico

Lavinia Asimov: White Russian, born in San Francisco

Larry Schumacher: White American, North Carolina

Leila Grunfeld: White American, Colorado

This has been a very exhausting post to make lmao. I gave some of the characters who don’t have canonical surnames my own Hcs for their surnames. Also, I am yet to read through trials of Apollo, so maybe I’ll come later back to add more Roman names to the list.

Tagging my moots that I like to see their opinions for this (as well as the ones I tagged within the list as well):

@aki-bara @ravingcoffeeaddict @ebony-reine-vibes @squiggle3worm @sleep-needer

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margaretoakgrove · 6 months

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Gift for birthday

Walking the thorny road of your uneasy life, you managed to comprehend one simple yet great mystery of that the appearance of a person frequently can be deceiving and far from always reflect their authentic essence.

You came to this conclusion after on your path you had met many people who were flawlessly beautiful outside but disgustingly ugly on the inside, and also those few ones who behind their brutal exterior, in fact, hid an incredibly gentle soul.

And to your grand happiness your beloved Karl Heisenberg proved to be exactly that same kind of man.

But, unfortunetaly, here in this located in a mountainous region of Eastern Europe remote little village because of his rather formidable looks, rank of being one of the Four Lords of the village lands and unnatural for human beings powers of controlling different metal objects only with his mind Karl was perceived by the local residents as an arrogant and incapable of love or compassion extremely dangerous individual, but only to you Heisenberg opened up his genuinely caring, fun-loving and sensetive nature and all the truth about that cruel and egoistic Mother Miranda forced him to become her obedient servant against his own will, and that already quite for a long time he had been dreaming to be free of the oppression of her barbarous tyranny.

Actually, one needs to say that it was not only one dream which the Lord was seriously intended to turn into reality one day.

Yesterday early in the morning when both of you were sitting at the kitchen table and nicely chatting over a cup of freshly brewed fragnant coffee he honestly confessed to you that at least for once in his entire life he would really like to properly celebrate his own birthday with real presents and a real big birthday cake.

To hear this amazing news from the Lord you were indescribably glad as before in your conversations he had never told you even when his birthday was, and what joy that was for you to find out that it was supposed to be already on the next day!

Determined to make your beloved feel a little bit more happier, you conceived to secretly organize a small pleasant surprise for him by preparing a homemade festive cake and a lovely useful gift, despite the fact that Karl was not going to celebrate his birthday so soon for the simple reason that, as he himself said, he didn't have absolutely any time for entertainments as at the current moment the total elimination of Miranda was the number one goal for him, that is why his tomorrow's birthday Heisenberg planned to spend just like one of his most regular days, hoping at least not to cross paths anywhere with his adopted family, the members of which he had always sincerely dispised.

But all these plans and hopes of the Lord crumbled into dust when at the crack of dawn he was unceremoniously awakened by the unexpected telephone call of Mother Miranda herself. As it turned out, "her highness crazy witch" for some unknown reason decided to arrange an unscheduled family gathering and demanded for her "son" to partake in it along with his siblings and arrive for this to the cave church asap, thereby not leaving him even the slightest chance to normally wash his face, let alone have some breakfast.

Hastily dressed, our birthday man, fiercely cursing Miranda for so brazenly spoiling all his day today, went outside where nature unfriendly greeted him with a massive snowfall accompanied by the powerful gusts of a freezing wind.

"Fucking matches..." He grumbled under his breath, trying to light a cuban cigar with no success. "Always extinguish even from the slightest breeze..."

You volunteered to walk the Lord right to the main factory gates, paying zero attention to all of his insistent protests not to do that in such a cold stormy weather. On his covered with deep scars stubbled cheek you placed a light goodbye kiss, and once the burly figure of your beloved disappeared on the opposite side of the stone bridge you immediately hurried back to the factory in order to get everything what was needed ready for his return...

As Heisenberg suspected this family meeting promised to be unbelievably prolonged, and it seemed to him that it lasted for a whole eternity. For many long hours straight Karl, chewing an unlit cigar, had been sitting on a wide wooden bench inside the cave church and, from time to time heavily sighing and rolling his eyes in irritated manner, listening to the insane dictatorial nonsense of the family head, the poisonous insults of Lady Dimitrescu that she was spitting right in his face, the nasty high-pitched squeal of Donna's creepy porcelain doll and the constant childish whining of Moreau. Not having a single crumb of bread within his stomach since early morning and chilled to the bone, Heisenberg eagerly awaited this freak show to end as soon as possible so that he could come back to the saving walls of his old factory and just forget about this frankly lousy day within your warm comforting embrace.

But to reach his safe refuge the Lord, unfortunately, managed only very late in the evening after he had accomplished to do everything he was strictly ordered to, namely, calmed down the went crazy Lycans in the Stronghold and got rid of the mess in the village workshop. Barely dragging his feet from extreme tiredness, the man, upon entering the bedroom and throwing off his outerwear, with noise flopped down on the shabby leather couch and, closing his eyes, let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he was home.

"Karl? You back?" Your quiet voice delicately interrupted your beloved's welcome respite, making him to open his eyes again, and having noticed your presence in the doorway of the bedroom, he couldn't help but slightly smile.

"Yes, princess. I'm back."

"It's pretty late. You must be very tired and hungry. Let's go to the kitchen! I've made a dinner for us."

"Sounds perfect." And with these words Heisenberg slowly stood up and trudged after you in the direction of the kitchen.

"Hey, what's this?" Karl whistled in surprise, motioning his head towards the kitchen table in the center of which adorned a deliciously smelling fresh apple cake surrounded by many plates with his especially favorite dishes.

"Um, Karl..." From overwhelming excitement all that tremendous speech which you had been composing since the previous day specially for this occasion in a blink evaporated from your memory. "I just...I just wanted to say...um... Here! Happy birthday, darling! Please accept this humble gift from me to you!"

The gaze of the Lord fell on a laying within your palms silver lighter with the engraved on it image of a beautiful steed, which you had bought from the Duke for a rather hefty sum.

"I noticed that you always light cigars with matches, but it seemed to me that for you they are not very comfortable in using. And then i thought maybe a lighter would be more helpful in this case, so..."

From your trembling hands the man took the lighter extremely carefully as if it was made not of metal but of fragile glass.

"All right, sweetheart...You...huh...You cooked all this food, baked this cake, spent your money on this obviously damn expensive thing, and what do you want to tell me? Do you want to tell me that you did all of this...for me?"

"Well...Well yes! Yes, that's right!"

Judjing by his puzzled facial expression, it was safe to say your beloved was truly shocked by everything what's happening right now, and it was no wonder because absolutely nobody in his entire life had ever done even something similar for him.

"So...Why are we still standing? The food is getting cold! Come on! Let's take a sit at the table!"

The blizzard, which had been furiously raging outside throughout the day, little by little, had begun to abate, and out of the snow gloomy clouds appeared the large silvery moon whose tranquil light unobtrusively penetrated through a small window into the kitchen where Heisenberg and you were enjoying the festive meal in each other's company. At your request, Karl told you how the family gathering went, but instead of narrating you about this extremely unpleasant event in a negative way, he started cracking shameless yet hilarious jokes about his hateful siblings, and your contagious laughter, caused by these jokes, after all those disgusting nasties that he had to hear today out acted like a healing balm to his soul.

Suddenly, Gymnopedie No.1 by Erik Satie smoothly played on the radio, and to your mind came a wonderful idea.

"May i have this dance, my Lord?" Playfully smiling, you politely held out the man your hand.

"Sure!" Not even thinking, Heisenberg immediately accepted your invitation to dance. "But i consider it my duty to warn you that i can't dance at all."

"Me too! So i am deeply apologizing in advance for accidentally stepping on your feet a huge number of times!"

In the dimly illuminated by a couple of oil lanterns kitchen both of you were slightly swaying in a slow dance to the soothing sounds of the marvelous melody in each other's arms. Placing his rough hand on your waist, Karl was gradually pulling you closer and closer to his wide sturdy chest, and when you rested your head on his strong shoulder he a bit nuzzled your soft silky hair, inhaling with pleasure its subtle delightful scent.

Fully immersed in the relaxing atmosphere of calmness, at least for tonight the Lord entirely forgot about all of his pressing daily problems the thoughts of which permanently created disorderly chaos in his head, and at this divine moment of complete peacefulness it seemed to him as if in the whole entire world existed only you and only him, silently dancing in this cozy semi-darkness.

After a few short minutes, silence that followed the melted in the air music softly stopped the slow romantic dance of yours, and then you looked up at your beloved just in order to catch him looking back at you with a gaze filled with nothing other than tenderness and adoration.

"I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for me tonight." Carefully Heisenberg tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Thank me? But...But you shouldn't thank me. I...I haven't really done anything special..." This affectionate gesture in combination with the low tone of his raspy voice made you unavoidably redden like a ripe juicy strawberry. "You deserve this, Karl. You do truly deserve this. You deserve all of this and even more. And if i only could give you this more, believe me, i would gladly do that for you, not awaiting from you anything in exchange because... because i love you too much...that's all..."

"My Buttercup...My kind little Buttercup..." And Karl, upon cupping your face with his hands as gently as he could, placed a kiss on your lips, in sweetness to which, in your opinion, even candied honey could not be compared. You didn't break this adorable kiss to ask the Lord what happened when you noticed a crystal-clear tear rolling down his cheek because for you everything was understandable enough without any words: probably for the first time in his entire life your beloved now was quietly crying with genuine happiness, and from the realization that you managed to fulfill one of the cherished dreams of his you yourself became even more happier than you had already been...

This peaceful night before going to bed Heisenberg decided to go outside in order to have a smoke. With the help of his new lighter Karl easily lighten up a cuban cigar on the very first attempt and contentedly took several deep puffs.

Leisurely savoring the bitter taste of the tobacco smoke, simultaneously the Lord was gazing at the dark nocturnal sky strewn with millions of bright sparkling stars just when one of them at lightning speed was leaving its abode once and for all, and, without hesitation, he quickly made a birthday wish.

It is not difficult to guess what kind of wish your beloved made because more than anything else he truly wished to be with you forever no matter what as for him you doubtelessly were the most priceless gift which he was so lucky to receive from the Universe herself, and to her for such a boundless generousity the man was infinitely grateful.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil 8 village #resident evil village #re8 #re8 village #re village #Lord Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg #Heisenberg #Lord Heisenberg imagine #Karl Heisenberg imagine #Heisenberg imagine #Lord Heisenberg x reader #Karl Heisenberg x reader #Heisenberg x reader #Lord Heisenberg x you #Karl Heisenberg x you #Heisenberg x you

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teecupangel · 5 months

Note

So a little funny idea I had last night is what if Desmond reincarnated in Enchancia? He could be born in a random family or better yet as Sofia's brother? Since it's a musical I bet the first time he heard someone singing he was wondering why and where the music was coming from

I was debating if it would be better for Desmond to be Miranda’s oldest son or Roland’s oldest son.

Then I remembered part of the whole backstory of Roland is that his first wife died because he wished for a family so, in this one, Desmond is going to be Sofia’s older brother from Miranda’s first husband.

He thought he was just living in some sort of fantasy world that was heavily influenced by Disney fairy tales but he didn’t know he was in a Disney fairytale.

He’s around 16 years old when Miranda married Roland and he and Sofia became prince and princess. He, of course, made sure to stress that he has no plans to aim for the throne and even made a contract that was magically ‘sealed’ by Cedric that shows his promise to never wish to become a king.

“I lived my life as a huntsman and I don’t see why I should stop being one.”

This, of course, sorta placed him a strange spot.

Because when they became royalty, that’s when the songs started. The first time he heard a song, it was Sofia’s song that showed how she’s worried she’s not cut out to be a princess and he honestly just assumed it was his sister singing to have an outlet.

Then the songs started to be accompanied by music that appeared out of nowhere when he began living in the castle.

Everyone just goes along with it as if it was natural.

When he asked his mother about it, she said “Our heart is our guide to the music that we sing. You just haven’t found your song yet.”

Desmond’s just “???” about the entire thing but this is a fairy tale world so okay.

But Desmond noticed the great divide between the nobility and the common people and, as much as he sees his step father as a good man…

Well…

The way he interacts with Cedric was certainly worrying.

But that’s not the worst of Desmond’s worry, to be completely honest.

See…

Desmond is a strange man to everyone. He was kind and sweet but he showed that he knows when it He even treats Cedric with kindness and treated him as an equal, sometimes scolding the king about berating Cedric in public.

(Sure, Sofia did as well but Sofia was usually in school or away in some adventure or something while Desmond stayed in the castle, hunting or helping out his mother. He didn’t have lessons on how to be a royal but he can handle things his own way (his own way being a combination of fallen Italian nobility from the 15th century and posh Englishman that is technically a noble from the 18th century).

All of this culminates in Cedric throwing away his goal of taking the throne for himself and aiming to make Desmond the king.

And the first thing he needs to take care of?

That pesky contract Desmond had him make to show his disinterest with being king.

#desmond is a cool older brother to sofia #who thinks he’s just a side character #(even sofia thinks he is)#and he’s so cool with that #it was a relaxing place to be #the most he does is help sofia get her character development #then later seasons kick in #and bam!#desmond learns that he’s smack dab in the middle of the fight for the throne #because cedric wants him to be king and a lot of commoners do too #he just wanted to chill #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #fic idea: sofia the first #sofia the first

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wakkass · 6 months

Text

💚Teenage Amber💚

On the left is some hairstyle searches

AU itself

Amber, like Sofia, is a very hard student. As a future queen, she's aware of her responsibility for the knowledge she acquires.

Amber manages her workload well and organizes her daily routine.

She likes to combine business with pleasure and apply organizational skills to her studies.

Amber strives to be on top in everything. Perhaps even too much.

For Amber, face is as important as knowledge and skills. To be a worthy queen, she must be perfect in everything, even in appearance.

Lately she has noticed that she can’t fit into dresses, she often sweats, and her hair becomes greasy.

This worries Amber, but she doesn’t give up and skillfully hides it all, and also finds information on how to fix such things (for example, a recipe for a magic potion that makes hair silky).

The fact is that this helps only temporarily, and sometimes it's completely pointless. And the flaws in appearance are getting worse and harder to hide.

Amber begins to think that the problem is with her and that she's simply no longer beautiful.

At some point it reached a critical point. During an etiquette lesson where she was supposed to faint, she actually fainted because she began to malnourish.

Sofia noticed that something was wrong with her sister, and they talked about it. Sofia believes that Amber is the most beautiful and kind princess among everyone she knows, and there is no better queen for Enchancia.

But Amber doesn't think that's enough. She's preparing to become the "face" of her kingdom. How will she show the world all the beauty of her homeland if she herself doesn't live up to it?

This question will be answered by the current "face" of Enchancia - Queen Miranda.

She will tell her daughter about the changes that every girl goes through, and will show Amber her hands, roughened by years of manual labor. Unlike natural maturation, their rudeness doesn't transform over time.

But does that make them ugly? Amber believes that her mother's hands are the most beautiful and perfect. And Miranda will hug her with them and say that Amber herself is also beautiful.

But what if the shortcomings never go away and some of them remain? Well, they will be flaws only as long as she considers them as such. Because Amber is actually the only one who sees them.

Roland will show his daughter his scars, which he received as a child due to too dangerous pranks.

Roland will also show porters of previous monarchs, where some of their external features are visible. They are all different, but they have one thing in common - they all took care of their health.

Roland thinks that Enchancia needs a healthy monarch who will reign as long as possible. And most importantly, the family needs a healthy and happy Amber, so it hurts them to see how she doesn't feel sorry for herself.

Appearance info

Hairstyle:

Amber's hairstyle in the original is a good reference to her status. Personally, because of such curls, I have a strong association with the aristocracy, so I wanted to preserve them.

However, I don't like the performance in the series at all (the one on the left), so I played with the shape of the hairstyle until I reached the final one.

I really like the execution of a similar hairstyle on the right, it’s a shame that the curls ended up looking like sausages -_-

Inspired by various art from vintage manga, I decided on a hairstyle. The structure of the hair is very similar to Aurora’s hair and, as planned, her strands also move easily and naturally.

Cloth:

Read this post for clothing inspiration and references.

< Previous post

#sofia the first #sofia the fandom #stf #sofia the first fanart #sofia the first au #princess amber #princess sofia #queen miranda #king roland

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 19 days

Note

Ohmygosh

Little sister Donna and big sis Alcina is a family dynamic I didn't know I needed before reading your stories.

Could I maybe ask for a story about Donna asking Alcina for advice on how to woo reader? I can just imagine nervous wreck Donna calling her sister when she realises she got a crush.

And thank you for your stories :)

Yesss!!!!! Don't thank me, I'm the one who has to thank you for reading them!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!!

A little help from my sister

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Some angst, fluff, Donna's POV, Donna being Donna

Word count: 7,892

Summary: I can't tell her... I need someone to help me...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!! I love you all!!! :))

Mother Miranda's words echoed in the four walls of the church. Always the same prayers, always the same phrases.

I sat next to my siblings, I don't even remember if I ever occupied another seat, if I was ever in the place of the villagers. New faces, different faces, children who grew up, old people who never returned... A bitter cycle of life and death, a cycle that I was condemned to endure, forever.

Donna Beneviento, Lord, doll maker, that was me. I wondered if I was ever something else, something more than a dark shadow next to some monsters, or, on the contrary, if I was just one more of them.

My appearance confirmed my fears. My face stopped being that of a woman, a human being. It had been too long, I had already gotten used to the veil that covered it, and also, to the loneliness.

Yes, I had Angie, my dolls, but, it was not enough to make me not realize that I lived in a house too big for me. Like everything else, it soon stopped mattering to me.

Torturing, killing, reading, working, sleeping, what a routine. Too many years had passed for me to regret the sentence that Mother Miranda cast upon me that night, the night I stopped being a person, to become a monster.

My only eye wandered around the church, to those faithful faces, devoted to the Black Gods. I liked to play at seeing who would return, and who would not. I suppose that is what a monster does, study its victims.

But, for some time now, one of those faces had caught my attention: a village girl, hidden in a bunch of stupid people a young, beautiful girl, one who always came back, one who decided to behave and not try to escape from that place.

Every week I looked at her, every week I got lost in her dress, in her gaze… It was like an addiction, an addiction that always made me thankful for existing, for having lived long enough to see her grow, to be lucky enough to see her beauty. I knew they were stupid fantasies but… Well, at least I had a reason to leave my safe place, to leave my house.

“Donna, dear,” a soft voice distracted me from my feat, from the weekly vision of her body, her face, one that was increasingly sad, increasingly beautiful.

My sister Alcina was always there to remind me that girl was unreachable. She was an angel, I was a monster.

“What are you looking at?” the lady of the castle asked, positioning her eyes in the same direction as mine. I shook my head, said nothing, did nothing, as always. “Am I missing something interesting?”

“No,” I whispered hoarsely, in a voice I didn’t usually use. I couldn’t make Angie speak for me, it would draw too much attention and, although it didn’t seem like it, Miranda kept talking.

“Mm,” Alcina murmured, squinting, searching hard for the reason for my distraction. Luckily, she didn’t get to do it.

“We wait for the light of dawn…” they all said at the same time, all except us, of course. “In life, and in death, we give glory, Mother Miranda.”

“May the Black Gods have mercy on your soul,” the priestess said, stretching out her arms. I know she enjoyed it, I know she enjoyed making the villagers just be a stupid flock of sheep.

“Let the lycans devour our flesh,” the villagers repeated, finally getting up from the pews.

At least that torture was over.

“What do we do now, Donna?” Angie asked, leaving the church in my arms, containing that euphoria that always accompanied her.

“Let’s go home,” I whispered discreetly, my gaze fixed on those villagers, searching for something, searching for her gaze.

“Home? How boring,” the doll protested, crossing her arms. I shook my head, with an amused smile.

“I have a lot of things to do,” I whispered again, walking away from the crowd, disappearing like a shadow, like the shadow they said I was, the shadow of a monster.

“How are you going to do it, silly Donna? We don’t have any fabrics, remember?” the doll said, pointing at me with her finger.

I sighed, realizing that she was right, that my time in the village was going to be prolonged. I hate the village, I hate the villagers. I hate people.

“Okay…” I murmured, looking around for the Duke's carriage. “I'll talk to the Duke and then we'll go.”

“Yes, yes, Duke, Duke!” Angie said, excited, as always.

At least it would only be a moment, at least all the villagers seemed to have better things to do than wander around the village…

“It has to be a joke,” an unknown voice reached my ears as I approached the carriage. It was a sweet voice, but somewhat nervous.

“I never joke, (Y/N), and even less so when we talk about money…” the merchant said.

I stood on the ground. It was her, it was that beautiful girl from the church, she was there, alone.

“What are you doing?” Angie asked, seeing that I was unable to move. I had never had her so close, I was never able to see her beauty so close to me. “Come on, Donna, move…”

“Oh, certo…” I sighed, walking again.

The girl seemed nervous, that calm look she always entertained me with seemed disturbed. I approached slowly, trying to make my presence go unnoticed.

“1000 lei for a medicine?” the young woman asked, showing the merchant what looked like a bottle of pills.

I pretended not to hear, I hid in the shadows of the carriage, looking, touching the fabrics I needed. Surely the Duke had already noticed my presence, but, as always, he ignored it. It was the best for him, and he knew it.

“Medicines are scarce resources, (Y/N). They are not easy to get,” the man said, shaking his head, looking at me out of the corner of his eye, with a shy gesture of greeting. I returned it, touching those fabrics, trying to concentrate on my task, and not on those bright eyes.

“I don't have that money,” the girl said, (Y/N), apparently, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.

“Oh, but didn't you have a vegetable store?” the Duke asked, counting coins mockingly.

“Of course I have, but we can't do anything if my father’s sick,” the girl said, crossing her arms. “Please, he is, he is very... The, the fever is consuming him.”

“It's a pity, (Y/N)…” the merchant sighed.

“Please, Duke, he, he's dying…” she said, clasping her hands together, her eyes shining from the moisture of the tears that were beginning to form in them. It was a sight that stopped my heart, but which I pretended not to pay attention to.

“I'm sorry, dear, but I don't do favors… It's 1000 lei,” the fat man sighed, shaking his head.

“Do you have no feelings?” she asked, clenching her fists on either side of her hips.

“In this job, (Y/N), you better don’t have them…” the Duke sighed, disinterestedly.

“Ugh…” she growled, kicking the snow. “Damn it.”

“Do you want anything else?” the merchant asked. “I have more customers to attend to.”

“Fuck you!” the girl yelled angrily, making me shift in place, stop caressing the soft fabrics.

“There's no need to be rude, don't you think?” the Duke said, amused, as the girl walked away from him, heading towards me and hitting my shoulder as she passed by.

“Hey, stupid villager! Watch your step!” Angie shouted, pointing at her in a contemptuous manner.

(Y/N) didn't turn around, she continued on her way among sobs and curses.

That incredible beauty was suffering, crying, very far from her usual tender smile, her eyes were red from rage. I didn't know why, but I couldn't stand it.

“Well...” the Duke laughed, amused by her suffering. I growled with rage, approaching him in an unpleasant way. “Lady Beneviento, I beg your pardon for this incident… Are you here for fabrics for your dolls?”

I nodded, following the young woman with my eyes. She seemed so desperate…

“We'll take them all, Duke!” Angie shrieked, with an exaggerated gesture of her arms. He laughed with satisfaction while I, in the most abrupt way possible, threw him a bag of coins.

“Good… Good,” he laughed, satisfied. “I'll come by this afternoon to take them to you… Do you need anything else?”

“Anything else, Donna? Anything else?” Angie said, moving in my arms, starting to get nervous.

I gently shook my head, but my gaze fell on that bottle of pills, on that medicine, on the reason those beautiful eyes were crying. Slowly, I leaned down to pick it up and look at it. It looked like a medicine to lower the fever, she wasn't lying.

“Are you feeling sick, my lady?” the Duke asked, studying my gestures. I shook my head slowly, looking at the place where she had disappeared.

“We're taking this too,” Angie said, with my voice, speaking for me as I showed that vermin the bottle of pills. The Duke frowned, but nodded disinterestedly.

“Of course…” he whispered without paying attention, counting that huge amount of coins that I had thrown at him. Of course, I should have imagined that a Lord would never pay 1,000 lei for something as basic as a medicine.

Moving away from the carriage, I looked for (Y/N) with my eyes, looking for her footprints in the snow and slowly following them.

“What are you doing, Donna?” Angie asked, taking the bottle of pills and examining it comically. “What’s this?”

“There you are…” I whispered when I saw (Y/N) walking slowly towards a cabin, stopping to rub her eyes. The sadness she conveyed shrank my heart. No, she couldn't cry, she shouldn't cry. Her beauty couldn't be destroyed by tears, by helplessness.

Little by little, I approached, reaching out my hand to rest on her shoulder, calling her attention. She turned around and the sadness turned into fear, immediately moving away.

“Lady Beneviento,” she whispered confused, shaking her head, searching behind her for a way to escape. There wasn't one, she was trapped. “I... I don't...”

I didn't say anything. I simply stayed next to her, with a calm pose, unintentionally intimidating her, scaring her.

“Silly villager,” Angie said among mocking laughs. I shook her discreetly to shut her up. No, I didn't want to scare her. I didn't want her to be afraid of me.

“Gods, I…” she sighed scared, kneeling on the ground, pressing her hands together, lowering her head. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry I hit you, I didn't mean to.”

I sighed, hurt by that attitude, by the reality I was unable to see when I looked at her in the church, by knowing that those eyes would never look at me any other way, that they would only see… A monster.

“Please, my, my father is sick, I have, I have to take care of him, please, don't hurt me,” the young woman begged, lowering her head even more. That situation began to overwhelm me. I didn't know why I did what I did. Maybe I should never have done it.

“Taci,” I whispered with my voice, speaking for myself, controlling Angie's movements. She was impatiently waiting for her turn to scare the girl.

“I beg you, have mercy, have…” she murmured trembling with fear, trembling in fear for me.

Not wanting to see that look, to notice those tremors in her body, I just threw her the bottle of pills, one that she picked up confused, blinking repeatedly.

“What…?” she sighed shaking her head.

I had seen enough, I had received the fear of those beautiful eyes, of that beautiful face. I didn't want to stay there, I couldn't do it, I couldn't remember that I will never stop being a Lord, that she would never… Never notice me.

I turned around with a sigh, walking away from her, ignoring her.

“Wait! Wait a minute! Why?” she said nervously, while her voice became more and more camouflaged. “Wait! Wait, please!”

I didn't hear her, I kept walking. I had seen enough, I had to go home.

The days were a terrible, but comfortable routine. After that encounter I couldn't think of anything else. I acted automatically, helping that beautiful young woman, the one who didn't know I already knew, the one who didn't know had been the only image in my mind for a long time.

While I was making my dolls, I thought about her, her scared face, her bright eyes, her pleas... The porcelain I was working with stopped being soft, it stopped relaxing me, I was nervous, and I didn't know why.

“Donna, Donna,” Angie said, distracting me from my tasks, from my thoughts. “What are you doing, silly Donna?”

“Look,” I said with a smile, showing her my new creation, one with those new fabrics I bought from that horrible man, that man who made (Y/N) cry. “Do you like it?”

“Ohh...” the doll sighed, taking the object carefully, nodding effusively. “It's cool.”

“Cool?” I asked, amused, shaking my head and picking up the doll from her hands, arranging its new hair. “I guess so.”

“It looks like the idiot from the other day,” Angie commented, making my hands shake. Same hair, same eye color, same dress. I frowned, sighing, leaving that new doll carefully on the table.

“Maybe it does,” I commented, feigning disinterest.

“She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Donna?” Angie hummed, climbing onto my lap and nudging me. I shook my head, unable to stop my cheeks from blushing.

“Yes, she is,” I whispered, in a sad, bitter tone, acknowledging for the first time that maybe, just maybe, I was starting to have feelings for her. It was crazy, it was impossible but… Well, I was crazy.

“You like her,” she mocked in a shrill tone.

“What if I like her?” I asked ironically, with a serious look, taking out my frustration on my only friend. “It doesn't matter.”

“She might like you…” Angie whispered amused. It could be a joke, an attempt by the doll to cheer me up, but I didn't see it that way. Angry, I hit the table with my closed fist, breathing with difficulty.

“Don't… Say… Nonsense,” I hissed, glaring at the doll, who immediately got off my body. “It's impossible.”

Admitting reality was important, stopping dreaming, stopping thinking about her could be a good solution. She would never notice me, she would only be afraid of me. She would only run away because of my appearance, she would never get close. For her I would always be a monster, there was no solution, there was no other way.

If I didn't forget her, I would be in trouble. My obsession would grow to madness, until... Until maybe my disturbed mind decided to hurt her for hating me. I didn't want to get to that point. I fought with all my might to forget those bright eyes.

I couldn't do it.

The following week came without me realizing it. I was so lost in her gaze that time passed like a sigh. Everything reminded me of her, my hands could only paint her face on my dolls. I could only give them the color of her eyes. I was losing my mind. I was losing it for her. Every night I counted the hours left to see her again, to watch her from afar again.

It would be the closest I could be to her, and I knew it, I always knew it.

There she was, in the third row. Her eyes no longer betrayed sadness, that tender smile had returned to her face. But something else happened, something that caught me off guard. Her head turned, her eyes rested on mine, she was looking at me.

Her smile crossed me. It grew bigger when it made contact with my dark figure.

I, shy, embarrassed, looked away, I couldn't keep it, I couldn't stand that light, that smile, those eyes that stared into mine, that seemed to even pierce my black veil.

“Anything interesting over there?” a velvety voice pulled me out of that timid exchange of glances. Alcina, as always, seemed more attentive to my movements than to Miranda's speech. Well, I couldn't blame her for that.

“No,” I answered, as usual.

“No? Well, I think there was a little bird that kept an eye on you, dear...” Lady Dimitrescu whispered, laughing softly, looking at the same place, where your gaze lowered, surely intimidated by my sister's dangerous eyes.

“It's the fool that Donna likes,” Angie said, climbing the lady up to her ear. I got very nervous, but I didn't want to draw attention. Miranda's grey eyes had already fixed on our movements.

“Really?” Alcina said, laughing softly, arching her eyebrows. “How interesting...”

“Angie, basta,” I reprimanded the puppet, taking her down from my sister.

“Is everything okay?” Miranda asked, with an annoyed tone.

I nodded nervously, controlling the doll's protests. Miranda sighed, spreading her wings to end the speech, mobilizing the villagers, making (Y/N)'s gaze get lost among the people.

Not wanting to find her, wanting to wait for everyone to leave, I stayed seated. Unfortunately, Alcina stayed with me.

“You should come to the castle for tea, Donna, I think we have a lot of things to talk about,” the lady in white said, finally standing up, when it seemed that all the people had left.

I shook my head, doing the same, ignoring her proposal.

“There is nothing to talk about,” the doll whispered, speaking for me. I was too nervous to do so, nothing strange.

“Oh… I think… There is…” Alcina sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder, pointing to a figure that remained standing near the pile of offerings to the Gods, (Y/N). “I think someone is waiting for you.”

I froze, watching as those beautiful eyes looked back at mine, as her shy gaze rested on me, only on me.

“I have things to do,” I whispered indifferently, trying to turn my body to face the door, something that I couldn’t do. Alcina's huge hands settled on my shoulders, pushing me closer to her, too close.

“See you, dear,” my sister whispered, amused, bending down to cross the door, to leave me alone with her.

When the vampire walked away, (Y/N)’s body turned towards me, her hands playing clumsily with each other, her lips were pressed together, and her head remained looking at the floor. I stood still, wanting to get out of there, but at the same time wanting to stay, to enjoy her beauty a little longer, just a little longer.

“My, my lady,” (Y/N) said, with a clumsy whisper, with her nerves making her body tremble. “I, I would like to talk to you.”

“To us? What do you want, silly, silly?” Angie said, with an annoyed tone, scaring her.

“Well, I…” she stammered, playing nervously with her gaze. She didn't know who to look at, who to talk to, me or Angie. I couldn't blame her.

“Talk to her, silly, silly, she doesn't bite, but I do...” Angie said amused, chattering her teeth, making her back off. I, tired of the puppet's irreverent attitude, lowered her to the floor.

“Angie, leave us alone,” I ordered her in an almost imperceptible whisper. The doll looked at me and then at her shrugging her shoulders and moving away.

“My, my lady, I... I wanted...” the girl said, coming a little closer to me, not daring to look at me. I could still feel her fear, the subtle trembling of her body. “I wanted to thank you.”

Her voice was beautiful. It penetrated my ears like soothing music. I nodded slowly, clasping my hands in front of my body, feigning a stoic pose, the pose that was expected of me.

“My, my father is much better thanks to the medicine and… It, it wouldn't have been possible if… If you didn't…” she stammered, running one hand through her hair, searching with the other for something in her pocket. “I'm not going to ask your reasons but… Still, I still thank you, really.”

“It doesn't matter,” the words came out of my lips, I didn't have to make any effort, I had to seem stronger than her, braver even if I wasn't, even if her beauty intimidated me much more than the Black Gods.

“Yes, Well… I…” she said, with a nervous smile, unable to meet my gaze. “The, the Lords don't usually help poor villagers like us… It's… It's a gratifying surprise and…”

I relaxed my shoulders. No matter what she said, she still feared me. I could see it in her eyes.

“I'm sure you've heard terrible things about me,” I said without thinking, letting out a feeling of frustration for not being able to hear her speak clearly, for hearing her beautiful voice without fear on it, in her words.

“Well... I have,” she admitted, looking away again. “I, I guess they're wrong.”

The smile returned to her face, her gaze lit up again, as did mine. She couldn't see me, she couldn't see the blush on my cheeks. She couldn't see my errant eye not knowing where to look.

“I just felt sorry for you, that's all,” I said with a calm voice, but angry at the same time. I never knew how to act, how to deal with people, how to behave in front of her beautiful presence, in front of those bright eyes.

“Pity is something you can’t see usually in a place like this,” she murmured, shaking her head, saddening her expression and taking something out of her pocket. “I... I wanted, I wanted to give you this.”

(Y/N) extended her hand towards me, a hand in which there was a kind of bracelet made with small bones and decorated with black feathers. I picked it up, touching her soft skin, one I didn't know.

“I wish, I wish I had something else to give you, but, well, I, I made it myself,” she said nervously while I looked at that curious bracelet. I was so focused on her gift that I didn't even notice how close we were.

“Ohhh, a gift...” Angie murmured, appearing out of nowhere, startling the girl, who relaxed instantly nodding with a sincere smile.

“It's, it's for you... My, my father says it brings good luck and... Well, it's, it's what I wish for you, Lady Beneviento,” she said elegantly, lowering her head again while I played with that bracelet in my hands.

“Just a bracelet? Hey, silly, silly, we saved your father's life,” Angie joked, pointing at her with her finger.

“Angie...” I sighed annoyed, dedicating a fiery look to the doll, who was hidden behind my dress.

“No, She, she's right, my lady,” the girl said, putting a hand on my arm, drawing my attention with the heat of her skin through the fabric of my dress.

(Y/N), realizing her boldness, immediately withdrew it with an apologetic look.

“It's, it's nonsense, and, and it doesn't show the gratitude I feel,” the young woman, shaking her head.

“I don't need your gratitude,” I murmured in a somber, clumsy voice.

“I, I know but... Well, if you want me to do something for you... I, I’ll do anything you want,” (Y/N) offered, with open eyes, staring at me, waiting for an answer that wasn't a dark murmur.

“Ohh,” Angie sighed, coming out of her hiding place. I squeezed the bracelet tightly, nervous. “Anything?”

The girl nodded under the doll's soft laughter. I really wanted to deactivate her.

“Then you have to have tea with us, silly,” Angie said, walking cockily.

“Tea?”

“Angie, basta,” I protested, trying to reach the doll, who laughed amusedly as she ran away from my hands.

“It would be an honor to have tea with you, my lady,” (Y/N) said, making me stop, looking at her slowly, surprised by that answer.

“You…” I whispered distrustfully. “Do you want to come… Come to my house… To… Have tea?”

She nodded with a sincere smile, sighing.

“Yes, my lady, it is the least I can do, my lady,” she answered laughing amused, surely due to my sudden nervous attitude, far from my position as a Lord.

“Is this afternoon okay with you, silly?” Angie asked, standing in front of me.

“Of, of course,” she said, shaking the wooden hand that Angie extended to her.

“Cazzo, Angie, can't you keep quiet?” I said furiously, entering my house again, returning to the safety of my home, to its comforting darkness.

“Donna is swearing…” the doll sang while I got rid of the black veil, thus revealing my flushed face.

“Shut up, you're driving me crazy,” I protested, moving my leg against the floor.

“You should be grateful, silly,” Angie mocked, pointing at me with her finger. “I got you a date with your sweetheart.”

“A date? Don't talk nonsense...”

No, of course it wasn't a date, it was a duty, a deal that (Y/N) and my doll made. Having tea didn't mean anything. There was nothing that told me there was any chance that... Nevermind.

“Sit down,” I ordered the girl when, punctually, she appeared at the estate with a slow, shaky walk. No matter how much she denied it, she was still afraid of me.

The girl obeyed, looking around curiously. I couldn't blame her, but my sick mind saw that attitude as a threat.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, annoyed by her beautiful, indiscreet eyes. She shook her head with a shy smile, a slight blush on her cheek.

“Oh, nothing, I was just... curious,” she replied, settling down on the couch, suffering from my dark presence in front of her. “You have a very... beautiful house, my lady.”

“Sugar?” I offered, ignoring that complacent comment. She nodded, sighing in relief at not having to continue with those false words about the darkness surrounding me.

“Yes, please,” she said, bringing her cup closer to me, letting her skin brush against mine again. It was a too good feeling for me, one I hadn't felt in a long time.

Time passed slowly, in silence. Neither of us was willing to talk. I could feel her discomfort, I could feel it from afar. I could sense the trembling of her hands.

“You're nervous,” I said, moving my veil aside so I could drink some tea, a gesture at which she looked away as a sign of respect. Of course, she didn't want to see me. She couldn't see that I was... A monster.

“I'd be lying if I said I’m not, my lady,” the girl said in a soft voice, playing with her hands on the fabric of the sofa.

“You're afraid of me,” I said again, in a darker tone.

I had to know, I had to hear her voice telling me how much she feared me, I wanted her own words to end this obsession I felt for her.

“I don't know anyone who isn't afraid of a Lord, my lady,” she said in a soft voice, looking away as she sighed.

“But you came to have tea with me,” I said, looking for a way to stop being me, to stop scaring her. There was no way to do it, I was a monster, and she knew it.

“Well, I promised to do it,” (Y/N) said, leaving the cup on the table.

“You could have not come,” I said, crossing my arms, waiting for the moment for her to run away, to flee from me, to make sure she could never feel anything for me.

“I never break my word, my lady,” she whispered, raising her gaze to me, catching me in her eyes again.

“I see,” I sighed, removing that beautiful glow from my face. “(Y/N), right?”

She nodded shyly.

“I'm surprised you remember my name, my lady,” she said amused, more relaxed, smiling again.

“Why are you surprised?” I asked curiously. “It's a beautiful name.”

“Thank you, my lady,” she said shyly, blushing at my clumsy compliment. “Well, I normally doubt that the Lords would care about the lives of some poor villagers.”

I laughed, shaking my head. I wished I wasn't a Lord, I wished she would stop shaking every time she spoke to me.

“But, but, well... I didn't expect one of them to save my father's life either, so...” she murmured, frowning, being very careful with her words.

“Stop it. I've already told you that it's not important,” I protested, nervous, trembling, almost panicking. She had been near me for too long, letting me contemplate her beauty for too long.

“For me, it is,” she said, with a serious tone, with a serene look, stopping shaking. “Seeing some light among so much darkness is... comforting.”

“Light?” I asked with an ironic tone, with an accent that was too marked, revealing my nerves. “Don't talk nonsense. There is no light in this place.”

“I can see light in you,” she murmured, leaving me speechless, giving silence a new opportunity to fall upon us.

It was a different afternoon, too silent, too strange. Silence reigned, only interrupted by your soft words, by your smiles that tried hard to get me to return them. They succeeded, I smiled, too many times, more than I thought I would do in my entire life.

She would never know. She would never be able to see my smile, my tender, studious gaze, my eye that tried hard to retain in my head all the details of her skin. She was perfect. She was sweet, kind, with a big heart. My obsession worsened, now I saw her in dreams, on my dolls. Without living without her, she was with me, always in my mind, in my thoughts.

But those feelings that I refused to have were finally released when she decided, on her own, to come to my house from time to time, to have tea with me without me asking her. It was a miracle, a stroke of luck, something that shouldn't happen. She couldn't want to see me, she shouldn't want to. She was an angel and I was a monster.

As time went by, laughter and kind words replaced the tension, the nerves her presence caused me, the fear that mine caused her. Her comments about her life became more and more frequent. A relaxed pose began to form on her body. She was no longer afraid, she no longer feared me.

(Y/N) said that I was light, that I was different from the rest. I would have liked to believe her words.

“I had a great time, my… Lady,” she said timidly as we walked to the door. Two months of visits and she still called me that… I hated it.

“Donna,” I said, wanting to get that nickname off her lips, not wanting her to keep calling me that. I really hated it.

“Donna,” she repeated, with a shy smile, nodding. “I hope you like the vegetables, Donna,” she said, pointing at the box of vegetables she started to bring me, some that, according to her, were possible thanks to me.

“I'm sure they're delicious,” I commented with a different tone, calmer, pleased by her presence, sad because she was leaving. I didn't want her to leave, that was my biggest torture.

“Do you want to stay a little longer, silly?” Angie asked, peeking out of my dress. I should thank my doll. Angie did everything possible to make her stay with me a little longer, even if it was just a few minutes. “We can play cards.”

“Oh, I'm, I'm sorry but... It's, it's late, I have to go,” (Y/N) said, bending down to be at the doll's level. “We'll play tomorrow.”

I sighed, watching her walk away again, how she disappeared into the fog, how she abandoned me. The promise she would return the next day was no longer enough for me. Her ephemeral presence, her shy smile, her gaze, soon became an addiction that I could no longer bear.

I could do something, I needed to do something, but I couldn't. Every night, like that one, I looked at myself in the mirror, contemplating my deformed face. What would be the point of spending more time with her? Sooner or later she would discover what I am like, my horrible appearance, the face of... Of a monster.

I knew I was deluding myself, I had to stop dreaming of her, of her saying those words I so needed to hear. It wasn't possible, it would never be possible.

“Cazzo!” I screamed furiously, hitting my reflection, breaking the cruel mirror into a thousand pieces, furious, losing control again, the control of not being able to... Love her.

“Porca miseria! Ti odio!” I shouted, taking out my frustration on the vanity table, letting the crystals fall to the floor, sparkling, camouflaging themselves with my tears.

I hated myself, I couldn't stand myself. I couldn't stand seeing my ruined face, one you could never fall in love with.

“Donna, Donna!”

Angie, as always, came to my aid.

“Sono... Sono un mostro...” I sobbed, burying my face in my hands, crying inconsolably.

Angie's footsteps broke the glass, climbing my body, hugging me as always when I lost control. I wouldn't have done it without her. I would have probably given up.

“Come on, Donna, don't cry... You're not a monster,” the doll said, patting my back.

“(Y/N) will never feel the same way about me, not with this look...” I sobbed, confessing my own feelings, my love for her, an inevitable, intense love.

“Enough of complaining, silly Donna,” Angie said, sick of my increasingly frequent attacks, attacks that I had when (Y/N) left, always when she left. “Are you stupid?”

“What?” I asked furiously, raising my head. “Angie, I'm not in the mood for nonsense.”

“You're the nonsense, Donna,” she scolded me. “You've been crazy about that girl for months and you haven't done anything, anything!”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked nervously, surprised by the puppet's very different attitude.

“Well, I don't know, something, for example. You can't complain about something you haven't even tried, even I, who am just a doll, know that,” she said, with a cocky pose.

“But, but, Angie…” I stammered, confused, knowing that she was right, that I was a coward. I always was.

“No buts, silly Donna, you have to tell (Y/N) that you love her,” she said, leaving me glued to the chair, stepping on the glass that I broke, seeing my horrible reflection in it.

“No, I can't,” I said, looking away from the glass.

“Fine, then don't complain,” Angie joked, making an unpleasant gesture with her hand.

“What the hell do you want me to do?” I asked, angry, clenching my fists tightly. “Do you expect her to fall in love with me just like that?”

“Tell her, silly Donna, use your charms,” the doll indicated, leaving me pensive, laughing nervously.

“I don't have any of that,” I sighed, passing a hand over my forehead.

“Mm... Maybe you need a little help...” Angie murmured. “Come, Donna, I have an idea, come, come.”

“What, what do you want?” I asked, following the doll's jumps, jumps that took me to the basement phone.

“Alcina, call her,” the doll said, extending the phone towards me. I shook my head.

“Alcina? No, no way,” I said, crossing my arms.

“She knows how to deal with women, not like you. If you stop being so proud and ask her for advice, maybe you'll stop smashing mirrors at night,” the doll said, dialing a number, leaving me alone with the phone.

“Hey, wait,” I said nervously, when the signal started to ring.

“Hello, hello, this is Dimitrescu Castle...” a mocking voice said, to which I rolled my eye. “If you want to order wine, dial one; if you want to be one of our maids, dial two; if you want us to rip out your guts and feed the crows with them for disturbing us at this time of night, please wait...”

“Daniela...” I sighed, recognizing my niece's voice. She was always that sinister. “It's, it's me...”

“Who are you? Apart from a new meal for mother...” the vampire asked. I gritted my teeth and sighed, thinking about whether to hang up or let her talk. Maybe asking my sister for advice wasn't such a bad idea.

“D-Donna,” I stammered without being able to help it. My body was shaking, and so was my voice.

“Oh, Aunt Donna! How nice to hear your voice!” the young Dimitrescu shrieked, making me have to move the phone away from my ear. “How are you?”

“F-Fine,” I stammered again, clearing my throat. “Is, is your mother there?”

“Of course… MOTHER!” she shrieked again.

I sighed, waiting impatiently, not knowing what I was going to say to her, what exactly I wanted.

“Daniela, don't be scandalous…” I heard on the other end of the phone. My nerves were getting worse. “It's Aunt Donna, mother.”

“Oh, Donna, what a late… Surprise…” my sister joked, with a seductive tone, as always. I didn't want to think about what she was doing.

“A, Alcina…” I murmured, scratching the back of my neck, looking for Angie with my eye. She wasn't there, that cowardly doll had left me alone. “I have, I have to talk to you.”

“Mm, at this time of the night? What’s wrong, dear? Have you had a crisis?” the lady in white asked. I nodded.

“Too many,” I answered briefly.

“I see… Do you want me to send you a maid?” she asked kindly, relaxing the seduction of her usual voice.

“No, no,” I shook my head abruptly, nervously holding the telephone cord. “I want, I want to talk to you… It's… It's something personal.”

“Mm, wow, you've caught my attention,” she said amused, laughing softly. “Tell me, dear.”

“I… I don't really know where to start,” I said, controlling my breathing, which prevented me from speaking clearly.

“It's that girl, right? The girl from the church…” she said, using that ability for people that I was incapable of having.

“Y-Yes,” I said. There was no need to lie.

“You haven't hurt her, have you?” Alcina murmured in a serious tone.

“No, of course I haven’t,” I said, annoyed by that accusation. “I… I… I'm… I'm… in love with her, Alcina,” I confessed, closing my eye, letting out my feelings from my heart, some that I couldn't, that I didn't know how to express.

“How sweet of you, Donna,” my sister joked, laughing, as if she was making fun of me. “What's the problem? According to what I've heard, she spends almost every day at your house.”

“Y-Yes, but… but… I, I don't know if she…” I murmured, fighting my words, which refused to sound as they should. “I, I don't know how…”

“Mm, you don't know if she feels the same,” Alcina finished for me. I nodded again, with my eye wet with tears.

“No, I… I want to, I want to tell her but, I can't,” I sighed, passing a hand over my forehead.

“You're blind, Donna. Let's see, why would a villager like her go to your house every day?” she asked with irony. “That girl is crazy about you, I tell you, I know those looks.”

“I don't think so,” I murmured with a sad voice. “No one, no one could feel anything for me…”

“Oh, Donna, not again,” the lady in white sighed. “Your only problem is that you are such a coward.”

“I told you…” an unexpected Angie whispered in my ear, startling me.

“Angie, I'm talking,” I protested with my hand on the device. “Yes, I am a coward… But, but if she felt something for me, she would have done something about it.”

“You are so naive, my dear…” Alcina mocked, dragging out her words. “Wake up, you are a Lord, she is a villager, do you know what that means?”

“No,” I said in a stern tone, tired of everyone laughing at me.

“It means that she would never believe that someone as powerful as you could notice someone like her, do you understand?”

“No…” I sighed tired, wanting to hang up and break down in tears again.

“Donna, for Gods' sake, react,” Alcina said, with an impatient tone, making me jump. “If you don't do anything, she won't either. Stop being that... stupid.”

“I didn't call you to insult me,” I said with a dark voice, hitting the table with my fingers. “I, I called you to help me. I, l, love her very much and I don't, I don't know what to do.”

“Mm, I guess being direct isn't your thing, huh?” Alcina whispered, with a different voice, but without losing that mocking touch. “Then you'll have to do something... Make her fall in love with you.”

“That's easy for someone like you but... I, I don't... Cazzo, Alcina, it's the first time I feel that way for someone... I'm completely lost,” I said almost desperately.

“I understand,” she said, with a cold tone. “Well, then start with something simple, why don't you invite her to dinner?”

“Dinner?” I asked confused.

“Mm,” the lady murmured. “They say you cook wonderfully, it could be a good point. You know, a delicious meal, some candles, maybe romantic music… If she doesn't notice with that… She's even more stupid than you.”

“It's not funny,” I growled at that mocking tone, but thinking about that idea, one that didn't seem so bad.

“It's not a joke, dear… Listen to your older sister, mm? Invite that village girl to dinner with you, and the rest… Well, I'm sure it will come by itself.”

I thought about that advice, that proposal, a lot. Alcina had hundreds of women at her disposal, but I wasn't Alcina, I was… A monster.

But nothing she said seemed to want to hurt me. I knew she cared about me, she really did. Try or lose (Y/N) forever, what a dilemma.

But luck seemed to be on my side. It was a simple, nervous request, but one that (Y/N) accepted without thinking.

In less time than I would have liked, she was with me, dining by candlelight, enjoying my food, my company, almost as much as I did hers.

“Do you, do you like it?” I asked fearfully, starting a conversation that had not existed until that moment. (Y/N) looked at me and nodded with a smile, taking a sip of her glass of wine.

“It's delicious, Donna,” she said in a soft voice, her features adored by the candlelight, her cheeks flushed by the wine, or by embarrassment.

I laughed shyly, playing with my food, not knowing what to do, or say, as always, that was never going to change.

“I, I used your vegetables,” I said awkwardly, catching her attention again. “They are of excellent quality.”

“Mm, thanks,” she said amused, winking at me. “You know what? You never cease to surprise me,” the girl commented, sighing.

“Why do you say so?” I asked curiously, looking cautiously at the phone off the table.

I didn't particularly like Alcina listening to everything, but at least she was kind enough to offer to lend me a hand, to help me if things weren't going well.

“Well... You save my father's life, you're kind... You cook... Wonderfully... Who are you?” she asked amused, playing with her fork.

“I, I guess I’m Donna,” I said nervously.

“Ahem, ahem,” a distorted clearing of throat sounded in the living room, making me blush. It was Alcina, there was no doubt.

“What was that?” (Y/N) asked, looking at the source of the sound.

“Oh, it was nothing, it was probably Angie,” I said nervously, diverting her attention.

“She can't help it, huh?” the girl joked, with a tender smile. I laughed nervously, shaking my head.

“It's true,” I commented, drinking some wine, accustomed to her looking away when I moved my veil.

Stars shinin' bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper, "I love you"

Birds singin' in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me

The music interrupted our conversation, a slow, romantic music that I hadn't put on. My doll got off the record player, making me groan nervously.

“Angie, fermate la musica!” I yelled at the doll, who ran away.

“No, no, wait… I like this song,” (Y/N) said, stopping my attempt to go to the player with a soft hand on my wrist. “You don't?”

“I… Um, yes, I do…” I sighed having her so close to me, hearing the soft humming that accompanied the song.

“Do you want to dance, Donna?” she asked, getting even closer, taking my hands by surprise, causing an inevitable tremble in mine. Automatically, without wanting to, I shook my head.

“N-No… I… I don't know how to dance,” I said shyly, letting myself be carried away by the swing of her hand in mine.

“Dance, damn it!” a furious squeal came from the phone, increasing my blush.

“What?” (Y/N) asked, with a confused smile, returning her gaze to mine after a few seconds. “Calm down, I'll show you, come…”

“Okay, okay,” I said nervously, letting (Y/N) drag me to the middle of the room, moving my hand to her perfect waist while she placed hers on my shoulder, starting to move slowly, very slowly.

A slow, clumsy, but intense, comforting dance. Her hand on my waist, our fingers intertwined, was the closest I would ever be to paradise.

“Dream a Little dream of me…” she murmured, when the song ended, with her body still pressed against mine, lowering her hand to gently grab my waist, opening her eyes, looking at me strangely. “You haven't been bad at all, Donna…”

“… I… Thank you…” I stammered, letting myself be carried away by my instincts, also grabbing her waist while her expression changed, raising her hands to my covered face. I acted reflexively by putting my hands on her wrists.

“Stop, (Y/N),” I whispered, trembling, trembling with fear. She couldn't see me, or I would lose her.

“I would like you to take off your veil, Donna, so I can kiss you,” (Y/N) whispered, with a sincere look, leaving me glued to the floor, with my hands shaking on her wrists.

“Kiss me?” I asked distrustfully, letting her hands remove the black fabric from my face under her watchful gaze. “You, you don't…”

“Oh… You're beautiful,” she said, caressing my cheek, my trembling body. I should have gotten angry, I should have screamed, I didn't. “Let me kiss you, please…”

“Please…” I said, approaching her, closing my eye, brushing her lips with mine, melting into the pleasure of my first kiss, of our first kiss.

“I wasn't wrong about you,” she said amused, moving away from that kiss, from that first kiss that left me almost sobbing. “I wasn't wrong to fall in love with you.”

“Ugh, finally!” Alcina shouted as we kissed again, with more enthusiasm, laughing at those voices. I wonder if (Y/N) suspected who was on the other end of the phone.

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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fantasy-relax · 6 months

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If I write about Resident Evil Village assume that Mother Miranda is a good mother and the lords are found family. Because if I'm cooking I'm Gonna use any spice I want to.

Their morals are still messed up, they are messed up. But they are smarter. You need subjects with the will to live so you get more subjects to experiment, so manipulation of the masses, Blablaba.

Anyway. Little thing I thought:

Dimitrescu experiment only in women, Moreau in men. Donna in her dolls(inorganic material) mostly but sometimes in humans. Heisenberg in the dead. The ladies and lord give their dead subjects to Miranda or Heisenberg.

So Donna experiments involve the effect of certain plants in the body and in the cadou. And sometimes if she is bored or curious will include a lot of funny games (mental torture).

Donna using her dolls to carry a dead man.

With Heisenberg.

Karl: This fucker is a midget! Is useless for me!

Donna tilt her head.

Angie: Sorry for not feed your size kink you ungrateful shit.

Karl: I don't have a size kink!

Donna looking around to all the soldats that are beefy tall men. Then keep her veiled head directly in her little brother direction, her face is covered but is seem like she is saying "really?".

Karl blushing: let him and get the fuck out!

Donna just keep looking at him.

Karl crossing his arms: Danke Schwester. Now fuck off!

With Dimitrescu.

Daniela munching an arm: Auntie this delicious!

Bela drinking wine: although is a little spicy.

Cassandra dipping a eyeball in the blood from the open chest: I like it!

Alcina eating a finger: What did you use this time?

Angie: Fox glove, Aconite and Hemlock! It was fun!

Daniela: I can't feel my face

Donna:... Maybe too much Aconite.

With Miranda

Miranda: Donna...

Angie looking at the floor: Donna is not here.

Miranda in mother voice: Donna.

Donna appearing from the thin air with her head bowed and holding her hands on front of her skirt.

Miranda hiding her flinch, sighs: Donna I told you to make him more Tame not destroy his mind completely!

Angie signaling the catatonic man in the floor: He's tame!

Miranda with her arms in her hips.

Donna moves her head to the side.

Angie kicking the floor: I just wanted to play with him a little. I don't had any playmates this week!

Miranda sighing: I would send someone to you tomorrow.

Donna rise her head at Miranda direction.

Angie jumping excited: Yes!

Miranda pointing at the man: But you have to repair his mind

Donna put her hands at her side.

Angie stomping: But is boring!

Miranda crossing her arms and frowning.

Donna sighs audibly but nods, dolls come to pick up the man.

#resident evil village #donna beneviento #alcina dimitrescu #mother miranda #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #angie beneviento #my work #karl heisenberg

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sapphicrow · 5 months

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The choices for the side enemies in each section of resident evil was very deliberate, and shows off both what Mother Miranda thought the lords deserved and what suits their characters. This may have been for difficulty purposes for each area, but still. I think it is a nice tidbit of flavor to our characters even if it’s indirect. Also I have brain rot.

Moreau doesn’t have any mobs. His reservoir is uniquely isolated. It’s evident from the way the other lords treat him that this is how they feel towards him as well. He isn’t a popular fella. As such, Mother Miranda granted him no special protection or privileges. Besides, I’m sure his bile would repel any creature, even a zombie or moroaica.

Lady Dimitrescu has many creatures within her castle because she interacts with more people on the regular. It’s canon that she had a whole service of female servants who were regularly harvested and experimented on. These subjects are later turned into one of two things: moroaica (the on ground creepy crawlies), or samca (the harpy looking things on the roof). Though we know Alcina isn’t Miranda’s favorite, she’s still pretty high up there. She had to make these critters herself still. Plus, her castle is huge and it only makes sense to have scattered security. I’d say Alcina’s daughters count as a high honor and another reflection of the characterization of Castle Dimitrescu.

As for Lady Beneviento, her situation is an interesting one. Angie doesn’t quite count as a mob, since she is technically an extension of Donna’s consciousness. This is obviously part of her as a person. Disregarding Angie, Donna has no major creatures. I say this because I don’t believe her dolls count as beasts bestowed upon her by Miranda. They’re handmade. She had to harness the skills of cadou experimentation, combined with the craftsmanship of doll making. This reflects Donna because she is isolated, but skillful enough to combat it unlike Moreau. She’s delusional, but evidently not to the same degree as Sal. She copes in her own fucked up, crafty way.

Last but not least, Heisenberg. Now, Heisenberg is Mother Miranda’s established favorite. The golden child. The sun of her sons. It’s also established that Mother’s fondness is by no means requited. Heisenberg loathes her. But nonetheless, even with his absolutely meh loyalty, he has a fair deal of power bestowed upon him. Disregarding his cadou abilities, he has the entirety of the lycan pack. That is no small force. Miranda practically trusts the most dangerous lord with an army. I’d like to believe she isn’t stupid enough not to realize his faulty loyalty, but I feel as if she treats him like a second true child. He’s the son that could’ve been Eva’s big brother should everything have worked out. Love is blind, and Miranda’s too busy to question cutie Karl. Karl also has the Soldats that he’s made himself. This is an intriguing view of him in my opinion. Karl lets Ethan slaughter Miranda’s creation because the entire time he’s been using the powers she gave him to oppose her. Silly guy moment.

Mother Miranda herself has no side mob which is very purposeful as well. She works alone. Her sidekick is the cadou, which we see in the form of all those root looking appendages bursting forth from the ground later in the game. Unlike Moreau who’s isolated due to his insufferable and odorous nature, Miranda is alone by choice. By grief, more accurately. Why bother with companions when Eva isn’t back yet? For her shattered mindset, I’m sure the thought of her daughter is companionship enough. Even with the mold making an appearance, Ethan only has to engage in combat with her herself. This is because even with the mold present, she’s still the vessel. It’s illogical and unnecessary for the megamycete to risk itself when Miranda is right there and so willing to take the blunt of the force.

The megamycete’s side mob is every single thing infected with the mold.

Thank you for reading :) hope it was coherent

#resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #mother miranda #re8 #donna beneviento #dimitrescu sisters #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #yapping #moroaica #samca #I know this was really long and perhaps irrelevant but whatever #thoughts

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mamiya-a · 16 days

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Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 11: Exes

Summary:

Mia and Philip biting the curb in 4k.

Waking in Miranda's bed is one thing. Waking in Miranda's bed , with Miranda herself in it , is something completely different.

The bed creaks slightly, a soft sound made by the uneven shifting of weight on the mattress. The thin, barely felt blanket disappears from your body, allowing the cold air to run its sharp teeth across your skin, making you shiver. An irritated growl rises in your throat, your hands are impatient, searching for sparks of warmth. A silent apology is whispered close to your ear, and then the blanket is returned to its place.

You've never felt so clingy in your entire life, the newborn emptiness in your embrace forces you to bury your heavy head and lazy hands in the sheets. However, they do not find their desired reward there. This lack almost makes you open your eyes, your brows already furrowed. Almost, because just the light, almost ghostly touch of soft lips on your shoulder - on the exact part of it where your collarbone ends with a slightly swollen hill, calms you down instantly.

A gentle trail of quick, yet sincere, kisses makes its way up your neck. They linger a little longer on your pulse point, as if waiting for a direct response from your heart. You let them have it, enjoying the feeling of a smile spreading across your skin. Thin fingers dig into the roots of your hair, short nails deliciously scratch your scalp. The moan that slips between your lips is practically inevitable.

"Mmm...Mira..." - you don't have to bother opening your eyes. You already picture the blonde woman hoovering over you, lips now brushing against yours, warm palm cupping your cheeks. If you could change your current positions, you would pull her back under the covers, into your arms, where her beautiful skin can kiss your body for as long as it desires. For as long as you desire, because you feel the need to be glued to her like a strong magnet.

"Release me, darling." - you'll never understand how she manages to keep her voice so low and enchanting, yet convenient and demanding. Soft control, a whispered command. The hands , that you haven't acknowledged to be wrapped firmly around her waist ,now loosen, your fingers slowly tracing pink lines, pain free of course but full of desire, across her still completely exposed skin until they make contact in the black sheets under her thighs. She places an encouraging kiss on the tip of your nose. - "More of me later." - a pause - "Eventually."

Her weight, her proximity , her breath, her warmth... completely vanishes within seconds. Leaving you bare , feeling even more naked than you already are. The itchy flames on the tip of your fingers are quick to make an appearance in your body , forcing your digits to crack, unable to control the desire to follow the woman shifting off the bed , away from you.

"Where..." - you murmur, turning to a side , palms wandering around you, searching for Miranda, as if she has escaped. You hear her soft chuckle somewhere close. But not close enough. Your vision is blurry when you slowly open your eyes , a yawn urging to part your lips. In your sleepy state even your eyes can't seem to spot her. That's until her strong arms push your shoulders back , forcing your back to press down on the mattress.

"Go back to sleep." - another tender order, another brush of lips against yours, this time a little bit rougher - "Dream some more."

The pressure on your upper body is long gone when you press your head back to the cozy pillow below it. Last distant memory of platinum blonde hair, swinging above Miranda's define back as she walks to the bathroom, appears in your foggy mind before you begin to fall into half-sleeping half-being awake ecstasy that keeps your body buried into the warm sheets. Yet real sleep never actually finds you. Instead of it - memories from last night hit you hard as a thunder.

Miranda did her very best to absolutely tire you out, to drain the last drops of energy from your body, to knock out your muscles and vocal cords. You have no idea how long you've been tossing and turning in bed, trying varieties of different positions. You can't remember the exact number of orgasms you gifted to Miranda or the ones she gave you in return. You remember how she pulled out the rest of her collection of sex toys from their hiding place in her nightstand, you're even sure she tripped over one of them just a few minutes ago on her way to the bathroom.

However, none of these helpers were intended for you. Her pleasure seemed to be put on a higher level. You didn't mind watching her face take on that lovely, slightly scared, but hellishly turned on expression just before the vibrations from between her legs spilled through her entire body. Yet she was perfectly capable of driving you crazy with just her nimble fingers, clever mouth, and dirty words mixed with compliments. She made you enjoy things you didn't even know you were into.

Her sex drive is higher than the roof of the mansion. She only needed a few minutes of rest after each earthquake orgasm, which you somehow managed to give her - some with more, others with less help. And then she would stand up as if she hasn't breathed heavily just before that, her head buried in the pillows, with lips parting in a wicked smile. You had no idea how she kept asking for more and more, how you didn't see a drop of sweat on her skin, how you didn't even feel her heart beating after each round. Compared to her, you were a living wreck. She would break you and revive you over and over until you just had to beg her for a break, too scared of the possibility of passing out.

Miranda is definitely hard to handle. Safe to say impossible, yet you continued to bite and bite , in an attempt to devour her whole. And she herself would lie if she was to say her needs weren't exactly met. After all you aren't the only one with jelly legs.

The sound of almost invisible steps coming straight from the bathroom is diverse from its usual fluidity. You know she walks more gracefully than currently and you're certain Miranda would never allow herself to stumble ,twice. She murmurs something under her breath as she detaches pieces of clothing from her bare feet. Although she uses an entirely different language, you're sure the words that slip past her lips are nothing but curses. At the back of your head there's even a vague memory of her panting them over and over again in your ear , while you were busy showing great devotion in the name of her pleasure.

You don't have time to enjoy the moment, her irritation and the nice sonority of the whispers , which translation fails to appear in the room. Just you and her. And the cold air that fiercely scraps your skin yet again when she lifts the blanket up and throws it aside. This time an apology is absent.

"Ughhh...you cruel woman." - you groan out , sleepiness still clinging to your voice, the sound husky and deep. Your body curls up to a side , a close by pillow is swiftly grabbed and embraced tightly, your skin eager for that cozy warmth of the sheets. While the fabric heats your chest nicely - your back shivers. Why is it so cold? And why is Miranda not there to warm you up?

Boldness strikes through vines as you dare to open your eyes , only to immediately throw a thick forearm over your face , facing the consequences of Miranda's decision to torture you more. Usually her bedroom is dark , which is a good thing - the best place for few perfect hours of sleep. With her long curtains pushed aside to allow the sun rays to hit you directly in the face, however, the room shines in almost unbearable lightless.

"You're going to kill me!" - you wave your hand towards the direction of the large windows , with head still buried in the pillow, missing the way her blue eyes roll backwards. - "Stop it , stop." - you hiss out , earning yourself a chuckle. Miranda is uncertain how to stop the sun.

"You're so dramatic." - she voices out , judging by the volume of her tone you'd guess she's towering over you - "Like a child." - when she rips the pillow from the safe place of your loving hands you do cry out like one. The woman ,who's currently looking at you with the most bored expression you've ever seen, has not once made you want to slap the audacity out of her. And you almost do it , your uncalculated movements, however, do show their effect as your back cracks and you fall down on the mattress before you can even fully lift yourself up. She laughs. - "You better get up now , before i decide to force you out of bed."

"Pretty sure you're already doing it." - you argue, trusting your wiggly arms to hold your upper body as you lift yourself up, face almost hitting Miranda in the process. As you look up to her, you fail to realize how close she has gotten to the edge of the bed, unable to decide if she wants to be back in it or not.

"You've seen nothing." - her fingertips are soft against your chin , as she uses tender digits to grasp it and pull you even closer , due to your now sitting position your face is lingering close to her stomach. You can't decide if you want her to move you up or down. Your hands , however, are certain in their decision to squeeze her hips , even with the bathrobe she's wearing that seems to work against you.

"Come and show me, then?" - a tempting suggestion, quick to grant you a playful smirk. The silky fabric of her current garment limits the freedom of your lips touching her tight stomach muscles, when your face finally presses against her abdomen. Her hand doesn't wait for an invite and drags its slender fingers through your messy hair.

"Come on , cooperate a little." - her voice is sweet as the scent of summer roses. You find yourself absolutely captivated by her soft side, her hard to miss smile , delicate body, full of tenderness eyes and demanding, yet understandable behavior. Though her words betray her actions , you're swiftly lifted upwards, not yet to kiss , but to observe her face closely. Your glare doesn't leave her full lips alone, however.

"I have to change those sheets." - with that you agree, new pair is needed. Miranda leans closer , placing her chin on top of your left shoulder - she breaths in , tenderly caressing the side of your neck with a hand , devoid of use. - "My children do tend to sleep here from time to time , you know?"

"Aren't they a little old for that already?" - you arch an eyebrow. You fail in your attempt to somehow drag her in the bed , groaning , annoyed by your defeat. She's as still as a rock, her body refusing to move at all.

"Aren't you?" - you smile. Fair comeback, just in Miranda's style. Cold, with a hint of mockery. You can't resist the urge to tease her.

"Thought you said I was a bit too young the last time we discussed ages." - your smile grows when you can physically feel her body getting tenser , meaning her following reaction can be transformed in two different scenarios. Your fingers find their way beneath her bathrobe, bare and ready, you find joy in awakening delicious goosebumps under her skin. - "Not like you seem to mind that."

"Do you have any idea what time is it?" - despite her best attempt to hide it , the hitch is her breath still connects with your hearing. She moves backwards, just in time before your digits allow themselves to travel along her inner thighs. And she cups your cheeks. - "We do have to go pick up the girls, but before that you need to shower." - this is the exact moment you realise her hair is dripping wet , she has been in the shower right before you. - "And you're probably hungry, on top of that we have to go for groceries." - she presses her forehead to yours - "I was planning to get some work done, but half of my day is already over because we slept all morning, and also-"

"Miranda." - you call our for her , not too loud but enough to catch her off guard, her eyes widening for just a second before she realises you've stopped her from talking too much. Her and talking too much? Ridiculous, her mind must be still foggy from last night.

"What?" - she sighs.

"Good morning." - a nice way to telling her to take it easy, there's enough time for everything. You don't even have time to gasp when her lips glue themselves to yours. You enjoy every second of intimacy she puts into that kiss. Rough, as she likes to claim, but now that your skin is practically hers, you don't mind the force she uses. Both of you part aside from eachother after a few seconds, for the sike of actually making it out of this bed anytime today.

"Morning, little deer." - she whispers, nose gently brushing against yours.

Convincing Miranda to go simple with breakfast, or more like brunch, happens to be a tough battle. The woman just refuses to make something easy like sandwiches. You, however, are not in the mood fore some of her fancy looking, and incredibly tasty, meals. All you want is to stop the rumbling sounds coming from your stomach. As soon as possible. Consuming so much energy has it's consequences. Yet you find it rather cute that Miranda is so keen in you feeding yourself well. Only if she cared about her own diet as much as she does for yours or her children's. As she barely touches food.

You make it your main priority to make her , if she doesn't cooperate even force her, to eat together after you both get ready for the remaining day. That's your only thought as you step into her bathroom. The room is huge , its decor matching the dark aesthetic like the rest of the mansion. The air is still warm after Miranda's turn in the shower.

Your glance finds itself lingering close to a large mirror, right above the bathroom sink. And you stop to look at yourself - naked , with only a short, white towel at hand, covered in countless crimson portraits of passion Miranda has managed to paint all over the blank canvas that she decided your skin was , last night. At first sight you find the red dots around your chest bothering, but then your eyes lift up to your neck while your hands begin to explore the parts of your body that happen to itch, triggered by the steaming atmosphere of the shower.

You're almost entirely covered in signs from your recent love making, though the marks on your body don't hint for your proximity to be called that. It's like you've spent the night with an angry kitten. Your neck has suffered the most, and it shows, especially at the base of it , right before it can connect with your shoulders - where her teeth can pierce you nicely and without a care. It's going to take you a lot of effort to hide all of those hickeys , plus the amazingly deep bite marks that sparkle between the sea of symbols that scream possession, the raw edges of the wounds still fresh in blood dripping colour.

You turn around, groaning in slight annoyance. Your back isn't any better than your neck. At least all the red , continuing in a straight line , scratchy lines are mainly in one place. Yet so overdone on your skin that it is not only swollen, but also painful. You curse yourself for allowing her nails to torture you like this , in the heat of the moment , however, the feeling was greater than her lips on yours. Your thighs aren't as severely effected as your upper body, but the soft skin there has also felt Miranda's sharp teeth on it. The marks get more and more noticeable and aggressive, a fine line of ownership, as they travel up to your breasts.

As if your skin belongs to her. As if you do too.

The hot water burns these love scars , forcing hisses out of your throat. Yet you compose a still smile , knowing very well that Miranda only intended to shower you in bites simple because she was trying her best to save her mind, self and voice from a total collapse. Quick changing imagines of her legs around your waist, on your shoulders or simply pressed deep into the mattress run through your head wild free even after the water stops and you walk swiftly to your room to get dressed, leaving a path of wet steps in the corridor.

The weak , almost pathetic, way she moans your name out as you grind against her over and over again. It motives your hands to work quickly with the clothes on your bed , waiting to be put on. Miranda is keen on guiding your hands where she needs them the most, she's a good teacher and you're a fast learner, it works out perfectly. The stairs seem like an awfully long road to follow as you take the first one down to the first floor of the mansion. Her hands wander around the sheets, trying to hold onto something as she begs , you have no idea what she wants, yet you try your best to give her what she needs. There's a nice smell coming from the kitchen.

The short film of heated moments from yesterday dies in your mind as you walk behind the tall woman. Hands wrapping around her waist, you press your face in her now covered in a thin shirt back , forcing her shoulders to roll backwards. The chuckle she lets out tickles your brain perfectly. Before you know it she spins around, with wrists crossed on your nape, torso slightly forward. You expect her lips to occupy you again, and they do, but you feel them press against the skin of your neck , rather than your own lips , where you wish they had landed.

You would have loved the kisses she places there , while her hands hold you tight, if it wasn't for the quick waves of pain that travel through your body as her lips meet those still sensitive marks. The moment she presses a little bit firmer, you hiss out, gently pushing her away. She stops immediately, slender fingers going up to trace the scars of teeth left around your neck. It's only now that she realises the damage she has done. An unfamiliar look appears on her visage.

"I was a bit rough with you, wasn't I?" - regret , her eyes sparkle in regret. You don't share the same emotion. You don't mind her decorating your skin , not at all. Though it can be a little bit more composed. She realises that too , a thumb stroking your cheek, as she tilts her head to a side and a kiss lands on your shoulder, where your body is mainly absent of pain. - "I'll be more careful next time, darling."

Your body goes stuff. That sentence again. Next time.

"You plan for us to be doing that again?" - she gives you a smile when your fingers enter the roots of her hair , destroying the quick, lazy hairstyle she has done to keep the mess on top of her head in one place while preparing the food. You like it more when that giant waterfall of melted gold falls around her shoulders.

"You don't want a second date?" - what an useless question. Its answer more than obvious. Miranda counts the way you walk forward, forcing her to move as well, and pinning her to the edge of the kitchen counter as a clear way of showing her the second date is welcomed any day. Your teeth don't waste time in connecting with her flesh , mimicking her own actions from last night. While your hands find their place wandering down her sides.

"Darling, be good." - she murmurs, her palms on your shoulders. You lift yourself up, enjoying the strings of saliva that connect your hungry teeth with her now red and marked skin. Then your eyebrows furrow. You extend the collar of her shirt, revealing more and more of her chest, but you don't feel appealed by it. In fact, you get confused. You're sure she's not the only one who decided to be a little bit more possessive yesterday and leave marks of pleasure on the other. Yet her flawless skin is devoid of any scars or redness, if you exile the fresh bite you just left there.

"Why are you..." - unmarked, untouched, safe to say unclaimed, if you compare her body to yours. The fact that she's wearing only a long, thin shirt that stop somewhere mid-thigh makes it easier for your fingers to find that soft type of skin as well. It is clear as day, not a single scratch left from your nails, which you can bet were digging into her flesh with little to no care. It's impossible for Miranda to heal that soon. She , however, cuts you off before you can ask your full question.

"Shall we eat already?" - a hint of nervousness in her voice. Her chin tilts to the kitchen table and you turn, eyes locking with two plates, filled with sandwiches. A simple meal, just what you asked for, even though Miranda surely did her best to make them look extra fancy. You release her, knowing that she'll change the subject anyway, even if you continue pressing her. Your fingers hold her hand as you both sit to eat.

Silence grows between the two of you. So does your irritation, as you hate the sound of nothing.

"What was that language from earlier?" - you find it very convincing how she purposely dragged her chair further to yours , so you can sit closer to her. She stop eating as you ask her this , a tilt of her head hints that she doesn't exactly get what you're talking about. You grin. - "You curse in it when you're annoyed or very, very hor-Ow!"

You hiss as she kicks you , not hard of course, but enough to catch you by surprise. Despite the sudden pain , her action roots out a laugh from your throat. Her eyes narrow at you , an incredible cute yet grumpy look occupying her face. A hint of embarrassment wandering at the tips of her ears.

"Romanian." - that's all you get as an answer, because she refuses to cooperate any further. To you, though, the information is valuable. You put your half eaten sandwich down, placing your eyebrows on the table.

"So i was correct to assume some of the words sounded familiar." - she takes her last bite of her own sandwich and turns to look at you, her attention spilling around you yet again. And you're happy because she actually kept her promise for eating with you. - "I've studied some Latin." - she cocks an eyebrow. - "In university, you know, medicine."

"Ah yes , I've forgotten they force you to study a language that only dead people use." - her tone drips from mockery, forcing your smile to grow. Did Miranda just make a joke? True, she's not fond of today's methods of learning, especially the things they make you study in university, but here she has a point. You also don't acknowledge how the purpose of knowing how to name a random body part or organ in Latin can help you in your career, but you don't see yourself as the one to change their practice.

"Perhaps I should learn Romanian, then?" - you suggest, it wouldn't be too hard , given the fact that her language comes from Latin roots. You point at her. - "So I can talk with you instead."

"And if I use the most heavy accent i can force out?" - the way she says that proves she's very much capable of doing such thing , with one single purpose - to tease you. It wasn't hard to notice, even from the beginning, that Miranda has an accent. Though she speaks perfectly calculated , sometimes those specific sounds you can only hear in a native person's speech tend to escape her lips. It's thrilling.

"It will only bring me motivation, Mira." - you answer her with a tone , filled with proudness. She seems very pleased with you and the way you act towards her. The smile that yet again reveals her dimples is your genuine reward.

"Adorable." - she voices out what both of you are thinking about eachother. Her fingertips are soft when they gently tap on your forearm. They travel downstairs to your pointy knuckles. She works fast to tangle her digits together with yours. Miranda does that curious thing again, measuring just how much exactly her hand is larger than yours.

"Is it your mother's tongue?" - her eyes are everywhere but your face , her attention focused somewhere else.

"Hm?" - she blinks, yet her gaze never moves as she continues to examine your fingers.

"Romanian?" - you tap on the table, trying to make her listen , she just shake her head , as if you pinched it instead. - "Is it your first language?"

"Yes, yes it's...." - Miranda's tongue wets her bottom lip , just for her teeth to dig into it a second later. Are your fingers that alluring to her? Or is she just as lost in memories from last night as you are? You have no idea, but her examination is quick to finish. Your hand is released and she turns to look at her now empty plate. - "Eva speaks it too."

"What about Eveline?" - you know she's adopted, but the girl is smart.

"She's somehow fluent." - she stands up to get herself a cup of water. You smile when she places one for you as well. - "I haven't had a lot of time to teach her to talk freely in it." - a pause. - "Not like we speak it often."

"Why not? You can-"

The doorbell rings. Miranda's head follows the waves of the sound for only a second, before her face shifts back to you. A shared annoyance fills up the room, as you both roll your eyes. Her hatred towards people is understandable, for you, however it's the first time that you feel bothered by someone cutting off a conversation with another person. As Miranda actually tends to be dizzying.

"Are you expecting someone?" - you truly wish her answer is negative.

"Not at all." - she shakes her head. A squeak is composed from slipping past your lips as her fingers get a hold of your chin. She lifts your head up, reminding you how tall she stands even without her heels on. Her back bends, her lips on yours, while she whispers. - "Did i tell you how gorgeous you looked last night?"

Miranda didn't, but she surely showed her admiration. More than once.

"You want me to open the door, don't you?" - your skin yearns for the tender fingertips that leave it behind, though you skillfully hide the need of them with a mocking grin. She chuckles in response , running her thin fingers through her messy hair. Dark, blue eyes travel around the room.

"Be a darling and do that for me , while I'm getting dressed." - bow that she has mentioned it , you can't ignore the exposed skin of her thighs, as the only clothing she's currently possessing is a thin white shirt that doesn't leave much room for your imagination - her chest and underwear easily spotted by your enchanted eyes. Why would she even bother with wearing more clothes after she allowed you to explore her whole body the previous night. - "Somebody probably got lost and needs help with directions." - she waves her hand in the air. - "Happens quite often."

"And how often do you actually open the door?" - you tease, knowing she's totally the type of person to ignore the ringing sound of the bell for hours if needed. You're still surprised you've managed to force her out of bed the first time you two met.

"Just go." - a command you're ready to follow, a single click of her tongue is enough to lift you up of your seat and guide your steps to the main entrance. Meanwhile Miranda takes the path back to her bedroom upstairs.

The bell continues to ring, not giving you a break, as you slowly make your way to the door, eyes twitching in annoyance. Can't they wait a little? You quickly unlock the door, putting the keys in your pocket. Then you press the handle and finally fulfill the desires of the person from outside - for the door to be opened.

The woman revealed stands a little bit taller than you, though her gaze falls upon your body as if you're a worm in her feet. Her eyes darken once she realises you're not familiar to her. She shakes her head, the wind blows through her dark locks of hair - a nice earth colour of brown, suiting her pale skin. The smile on her face looks more than forced.

"Who are you?" - she narrows her eyes, although she looks like a sweet lady, the tone of her voice hints that she's not so very keen on being nice to other people. The anxious tapping of her feet on the concrete floor beneath her adds to her overall character.

"I'm-"

"You know what? I don't really care." - even she cannot begin to explain why she asked. Curiosity, that's it. Or more like confusion, as why the woman she's in search for doesn't open the door like she wants her to do. The unfamiliar woman waves her hand towards the mansion. Her voice is demanding. - "Fetch me Miranda."

So she's not just somebody. Judging by how desperate she looks, in need to see Miranda. Yet you can't just call her now , can you? You have to understand who you're dealing with first. You clear your throat before crossing your hands behind your back , as if you want to hide from her, appearing smaller, weaker. Letting her think you're defenseless.

"I didn't quite catch your name?" - her eyebrows furrow, yet you stand your ground. - "If you would be so kind to-"

"Mia." - she doesn't bother with a last name, not like you need it anyway. So that's Mia, the Mia, Miranda's Mia. The fact that you're standing face to face with the woman's you've just slept with ex girlfriend stuns you. Your body freezes , your head tilts downwards , your eyes try their best to not meet up with hers. - "I'm one of her colleagues, just call her so I can talk with her about-"

"Miranda hates you." - you hiss out , still not daring to look directly at her. Anger twists your hands into fists. Will Miranda be proud, if you manage to give Mia the beating she deserves? Hatred might not be the blonde's woman exact emotion towards Mia, but you know very well love is already out of the picture.

"Excuse me?" - you're not the only one spitting venom out. As she sounds both extremely mad and confused.

"I doubt she wants to see you." - finally you built the courage to lift up your head , a ball of anxiety shoved in your throat as you speak. You're not speaking Miranda's thoughts out loud, you're speaking yours. You don't even acknowledge the finger that pokes Mia's chest while you clench your jaw. - "Ever. Again."

"Who the fuck are you?" - the woman gets fed up with your insolence. Your back hits the outside wall of the mansion, showing you exactly how rough and cold the texture is, once Mia decides to move forward. With her teeth bared and eyes widened, she resembles a monster, which claws are guided by anger. Her fingertips tug hard on your collar, threating to rip it apart. It's only when your own hands begin to fight her, that her crazy looking eyes manage to take a peak from underneath your shirt, specifically your neck area - where Miranda's love bites are on full display. Her madness forces her to laugh. - "I see how it is."

The ghost from Miranda's past, the ghost that shouldn't be here at all, releases you. Mia crosses her arms in front of her chest, observing closely as you try to put your shirt back in place , determined to hide the red scars around your neck and shoulders. She smiles revealing a nice set of teeth.

"Miranda fucks like a beast, doesn't she?" - although the sonority of her voice is low , she makes sure you hear her and the mocking laugh that comes after it. - "It's almost funny, for a mighty women like her, to be acting like a whore whenever she gets the chance to."

Mia's walking on very thin ice. Your fists are impatiently waiting to meet up with her face.

"Why are you-"

"Don't consider yourself special, girl." - she pats your hair , and you loose time in shaking your head , instead of smacking her hand away, because she quickly gets a hold of your locks and pulls hard , forcing you to hiss out of pain. - "And don't think she slept with you out of anything else but desperation. She can't help herself when she feels needy." - Mia tightens her grip , threating to rip off your hair , along with the skin covering your skull. - "Remember well the fact that she seems to so easily forget - no matter what she does , and who she does it with , Miranda stays mine, my whore. Mine"

Your squirming pays off. A strong knee successfully connects with Mia's stomach, or more like her upper thigh , as your hits is strong but not well calculated. The woman groans out, clearly not taking well pain the same way Miranda does it. Her hands disappear from the roots of your hair , only to wrap around her abdomen. The sound of her teeth madly crashing at eachother can be almost heard from the distance you've managed to create between the two of you.

"How dare you talk like that about the woman who is still grieving about her lost love over you." - you would never believe that you'll be defending Miranda as fiercely as currently. Your finger shakes , from anger or deep sympathy, you're not so sure, while you point at Mia. Her face expression is hard to read. - "You treat her like an object, lacking ownership." - your ears manage to catch the sound of quiet steps somewhere behind you, yet your mind refuses to pay attention. - "But you fail to realise how much more she is."

"And for what good she's worth?" - the audacity she forces into her voice deserves to be slapped away. In fact, your palm is very close to running across her cheek. If it wasn't for the tender hand that tugs on your shoulder. You don't pay it much attention while answering Mia's unbelievable question.

"Start treating her like an actual human with real feelings, for which you care about, and you'll see." - Miranda is mean , Miranda is rude , Miranda lacks the feeling of being appreciated. Yet by getting to know her better, you've learnt she at least deserves the bare minimum. Something Mia is incapable of giving her.

"Go back inside, darling." - her voice is smoothing, breath hot at the shell of your ear. Mia's jealousy can be seen from kilometers away, her eyes focused on the way Miranda's arms are wrapped around your waist, in attempt to pull you backwards. You give the blonde woman beside you a concerned look. Both of you understand your wish to not leave her alone. A conversation between her and Mia, however, is needed. And it's you who have to step aside.

You do it. For Miranda's sake only. One mean glare , a warning, is sent in Mia's direction right before you walk back inside the mansion, the two huge doors locking behind you.

"I don't recall giving you an invitation, Mrs.Winters." - Miranda has always felt uneasy around her past lover , yet she tries her best to compose herself, with her back straightened and chin high, she likes to force her authority over the other woman. - "So why are you here?"

"Oh , drop the formalities, Miranda." - the taller woman's face stays emotionless. Mia's attempt to move closer to her is cut by a strong arm, lifting up to keep her distance. A shake of Miranda's head is a warning that keeps Mia at bay. - "We both know you're not like this."

"You still haven't answered my question, i don't like repeating myself." - she keeps her tone cold , not allowing any voice cracks that are so temptingly scratching at the base of her throat out. It's been months since her last meeting with Mia, she can't keep the emotions lurking inside her for long. - "And I'm getting impatient."

"Eveline..." - Mia swallows, now it's her own turn to glue her eyes to the floor. Miranda tends to be intimidating without even realising it , but she has never forced the effect of fear inside the brunette's body.- "I'm here to see Evie."

"Your real reason, Mia." - her actual name is spoken out loud, at what cost, however? Anger twists her voice in an almost screaming matter. It sent shivers down Mia's spine. She hasn't seen her beloved in so long , the rough treatment she's getting is not something she's expecting. But Miranda is done with locking herself around her neck everytime they meet up, forgetting completely about all the pain Mia has made her feel. - "You stopped caring about Eveline very long ago."

"I haven't seen you in months." - Mia doesn't allow herself to be as rude to Miranda as she is with you. Despite the anger traveling along her veins , she knows how to play her game. She knows what Miranda likes to hear. - "I miss you."

Convincing her has been easy before. Yet now , Mia faces an obstacle.

"You ruined me , Mia." - Miranda's words strike the younger woman like sharp arrows, eager to meet up with her skin. Her heart skips a beat when the blue eyes she's so intensely staring at start to go darker and darker, hinting the missing emotions she's searching for. - "Now you owe me time to heal. Alone."

"And how much exactly do i have to wait?" - she hisses out, chin tilting to the closed doors. - "Alone you say, meanwhile you're busy having fun with other women."

"You don't even realise how much you're hurting me, do you?" - the skin under Miranda's eyes starts to colour itself in light, red shade.

"And you?" - Mia exclaims, lifting her hands in the air, unbothered by the way she's practically screaming. - "Can't even wait for my back to turn before dragging another woman into your bed." - her arms extends to Miranda , then stops midway, knowing she's not allowed to touch her. She curses out loud. - "It's so easy for you to replace me!"

"You have to be someone in order to be replaced, Mia."

"Oh , so I'm nobody to you now?!"

The blonde woman shakes her head, unbothered by the single tear that rolls down her cheek. She tries her best to stop her chin from shaking, her nails dig into her own skin , trying to replace the pain in her chest with another.

"Miranda, please." - it's Mia who breaks into tears first, her voice almost unrecognisable. - "I still love-"

"You made your choice years ago." - Miranda's hand wraps around the base of her throat, she breaths in and out , the wind blows golden locks of her still messy hair in front of her face , limiting Mia's vision that is so impatient to break into her personal space. - "Go back to your husband, Mia."

The brunette's mouth opens to argue, to talk back , to defend herself. After a second, however, she hesitates. Mia knows she's guilty, and for the first time in years she doesn't feel the need to deny that fact. Miranda is a mighty woman, with a strong character, she's divine in so many ways. Mia felt powerful, knowing she has all of that in her hands, even after cutting their relationship into just casual fucking. You were right, she truly sees her an object. Owning her , however, it's impossible.

The apology sent in Miranda's address is murmured, yet genuine. The blonde woman tries her best not to show how her body is weakly shaking as her past lover slowly makes her way to her parked car. It's when she turns to look back , that Miranda's mind totally breaks. The burning tears are impossible to hold back.

"Mia..." - she whispers. Her voice, though, devoid of softness.

"Miranda." - the woman answers, taking a confident step forward.

"Mia, please." - blue eyes observe her body, unexpectedly stopped in the middle, locked in her abdomen. - Take better care of this child than you did of Eveline."

Mia's eyes open wide , her arms immediately wrapping around her stomach. She looks down, her fingers tugging on her loose shirt. And she begins to cry , for a completely different reason. Her breath hitches once she looks eyes with Miranda again.

"How did you-"

"Goodbye, Mrs.Winters" - the doors behind Miranda open and she takes a step inside. She doesn't allow herself to look back , knowing she won't take the view very well. The sound of tires rolling down the old road matches perfectly with the thud of the now closed doors. Mia's gone , hopefully for a long time.

Miranda's knees feel weak , unable to carry her body weight. Her chest itches from the inside, she composes the urge to dig her fingers deep inside her skin and tear her heart apart. Love is a weakness, an allergy, a death threat. She'll never allow herself to be this weak again. Yet...at such moments her loneliness craves for attention.

"Darling..?" - she voices out , a hand rubbing at the base of her throat, right above her collarbone. Her mouth fills up with saliva, as if she's about to throw up. Hatred is a weak word to describe the things she's currently feeling.

"Darling?" - Miranda realises very well what is happening to her, judging by the way her breathing becomes more rapid and ragged , her head spinning, mind dizzy. At some point she hits herself in a doorframe, she doesn't care , she feels no pain. She struggles to get enough air filling her lungs , meanwhile her body tries Its best to get more oxygen, making her completely lightheaded.

"Little deer, show yourself." - she orders , she begs , she hopes for someone to hear. You're not the kitchen, where are you? She can't keep this up. Her fingers go through the roots of her hair. Her head spinning around. - "I need... darling?"

"Miranda, are you calling for me?" - something in her tight chest snaps and she runs to you the moment you peak your head through the kitchen door. She shoves her face in the crook of your neck , her body glued to yours , the sobs that break through her are impossible for containing. - "Sorry i was upstairs and...-Shit are you crying?"

She shakes, your hands don't waste time in wrapping themselves around her, palms gently rubbing her shoulder blades. You start to feel uneasy, this Miranda has nothing to do with the one from yesterday, even when she was close to crying in the restaurant. The woman , currently stitched to your chest, is in a complete breakdown, unable to stop her tears and quiet cries. You have no idea how to comfort her, simple because you've never seen her in such state. You know she tends to be emotional, but that's a whole other story. The best thing that comes to mind is...to just be there. You place your head on her shoulder and pull her impossible close, once you try to match with her breathing you notice she begins to calm down.

"I didn't know..." - she murmurs, taking in a deep breath. - "didn't know she was pregnant."

Miranda's fingers are now playing with the edges of your hair , as she tries to think of anything else but Mia. Your chest fills up with a guilt, once you remember you did hit Mia's stomach in an act of anger. Yet that feeling fades when she pulls away and her puffed, flushed face shines in front you. You're quick to cup her cheeks and press your forehead to hers.

"Love...she says she still loves me." - her lips twitch when that simple word slips past them, you kiss her gently, showing her tenderness, comfort. - "But she shows up pregnant, that's...humiliation. And she knows, she know she's carrying his child , yet she drives all the way here to tell me she misses me. And for what?"

"To mock you, she's mocking you." - you answer instead of her, giving her enough time to process her thoughts before every other gentle kiss placed on her lips. Your chest fills up with a nice warmth when she begins to return those kisses without you guiding her into it.

"Did she scare you, darling?" - your arms finds themselves missing her a second after she departs from you. That's until her thumbs brush along your cheekbones. - "Mia can get rather...aggressive."

"That's true, but I'm okay, Mira." - you trace tender circles over the skin of her hands, smiling now that her breathing is back to normal. She tilts her head. - "Promise."

"Good." - Miranda whispers. - "Because I truly need a cigarette."

Miranda hasn't moved from her balcony for almost two hours straight. Two hours in which she did nothing but try her best to empty a freshly new box of cigarettes. You find that impossible fascinating, giving the fact that the brand she's smoking isn't exactly light, as the cigarettes are thick and hard to finish whole. Her normal sweet perfume is now dominated by the smell of smoke and nicotine.

Even if she drowns herself in all this poison, it won't change the expression she has on her face. One you can only see in old renaissance paintings, she truly looks like a piece of art - you only wish she didn't look as sorrowful as she did. Sadness is truly a great emotion that doesn't need to be shared, in order to awaken sympathy in a person's soul. Though your truly hate to see her in such state.

Miranda's shoulders roll backwards once you open the clear balcony door and walk outside, light breeze begins to play with loosen locks of your hair. You pull a chair, positioning it close to her ,but not enough to break through her personal space. Her gaze stays locked forward, in the endless sea of large, green trees. A magnificent view. You , however, fail to realise how she doesn't get bored of looking at it. Two hours is not a short period of time. Hints that the trees are of no interest to her, as she's lost in her own mind.

"You're still not tired of smoking?" - you voice out , in both concern and surprises. Then you clear your throat when she doesn't bother in giving you an answer, you try your best to sound reasonable - "It's not good for you, Mira."

"If I don't smoke, I'll drink." - she takes yet another puff of her cigarette, a tender wall of smoke covers her face a few seconds after. Her voice is rougher than usual, the movements of her hands , of her body - slow and uncalculated. - "If i don't drink I'll sleep and that feels like a waste of time."

"Why not get some work done, then?" - you suggest, hoping her workaholic nature will show up. You're even close to proposing helping her around the laboratory as well. Your words actually manage to awaken movements within her, you smile once she turns her head to you. Not returning your gesture however.

"Do you know why I'm working from home?" - she asks , her lips barely moving. You shake your head, earning yourself a sigh. - "I couldn't stand looking at Mia after... everything" - she tosses the burning stub of her cigarette on the floor, her foot stomping it immediately, while her hands wave around. And you nod , remember how the brunette woman from earlier said she and Miranda are colleagues. - "Watching in the corners while her oh so loving husband comes to bring her lunches." - her hands form into fists and she presses her back completely to the chair. - "As if I can't cook, as if I can't take better care of..." - she stops to look at, a sorrowful flame dancing inside her eyes. Her arm extents to grab the cigarette box on the table next to her. - "I refuse to feel that humiliation ever again."

Miranda lets those unfamiliar sounding curses to occupy her lips , while she holds yet another cigarette between her teeth. Her fingers are inpatient while they try to light up the tip of it, it takes you a moment to realise she's shaking, therefore not being able to transfer her desires directly into her hands. You cannot take the view.

"Okay, that's enough." - the look you receive after stealing the cigarette from between her lips just before she can take her first puff after finally managing to light it up is genuine confusion. Then her eyebrows furrow in anger, though she doesn't exactly show it. Yes , she tries to grab it again, failing miserably when you move to a side, but her body movements are lazy , as if she's not trying hard enough.

"Darling, it's my last one." - she attempts to snatch it again, her fingers barely brushing against the skin of your forearm as you move your chair further away from her. She growls. - "Don't torture me as well."

You dare not speak to her. In fact, your eyes don't even cross hers once your own lips wrap around the cigarette and you inhale hard, in hope to finish it faster. Clouds of smoke fill up your lungs , making it hard to breathe. You exhale it in short, coughed up breaths. Meanwhile Miranda's chair creaks, now devoid of her weight.

"That's not how you do it." - she comments, her body now standing still in front of you.

"I don't care." - the smoke rises up from the smoldering tip of the cigarette, curling and swirling in the air. You're unbothered, even when you begin to find it difficult to breathe. How does Miranda likes all of this smoke, this smile and the dizziness that comes with it?

"You'll hurt yourself." - she's calm, you can judge by the way her voice changes. Once you finish the cigarette - you mimic her previous self and throw it on the ground, right next to a small pile of ashes. Then you look at her from beneath your eyelashes. To your surprise, a smirk is lurking in the corners of her lips. Your hand grabs the now empty box and you crush it with your palms , making sure there's no poison left for her.

"There - no more cigarettes." - you stand up, lifting your head, not cutting eye contact. A single finger of yours points to the inside of the mansion. - "If you want I'll go and drunk all of your alcohol." - you lick your dry lips. - "Shall it means your attention will fall on me."

Miranda laughs. An actual, ringing and sweet laugh, filled with amusement. Her eyes begin to sparkle with joy. You allow her to pull you into a hug, not wasting time in shoving your head into her chest. Her warmth covers you nicely, while you wrinkle your nose at the strong smell of nicotine coming from her. It's not as bad as before, however, now that you're also covered in it.

"I think it's time to go get the girls back home." - she suggests, running her palms down your back.

"Is that an excuse for you to buy yourself more cigarettes, Miranda?" - how convenient, to remember she needs to pick her daughters up right after her favourite poison is no longer available.

"The store is on the way." - she whispers, lifting your chin up with tender fingers. You can't help the smile that urges on your lips when she pulls you close for a kiss. - "Why waste the chance?"

*****

You don't end up in a store, but a familiar gas station instead, as Miranda's car happened to be out of fuel. You remember being here a few months ago, with wet clothes from the rain, freezing inside the building as the air coordinator was on. The weird old man behind the cash register telling you nobody lives in the distant mansion. You'll like to see his face while you tell him the woman who's currently paying him for the gas is pretty much the woman he swore didn't exist.

It's only now that you realise how much time has passed and how exactly your relationship with Miranda has changed. It's weird to think about it. No complains, however, happen to cross your mind.

Your head tilts to a side, gaze landing on a white car parked next to yours. From inside comes out a man. He's wearing a hoodie. Even though he's standing with his back turned to you, no difficulty in recognising the pattern on the fabric happens to get in your way. You know that hoodie well, because you spent a good amount of time trying to decide if you should get it. It was for a gift , a birthday gift. For your boyfriend...well ex boyfriend.

What the hell is Philip doing here? You widen your eyes , in half fear and unsurenes, in what to do. You press your back the leather seat, hoping Miranda will come sooner so you can go before the man realises his ex girlfriend is standing right behind him. You find yourself praying he won't turn around. Yet the gods seem to be absent.

His eyes immediately cross with yours the moment he turns in your direction. Both of you take in a sharp breath, just standing there , glaring at eachother. Then Philip moves forward, closer to you. Fuck. You bite your lower lip, fingers nervously pulling at your seatbelt. A tap on your window makes you jump. Your head turns and you're met with a soft smile. You force yourself to roll down your window.

"Hey." - he voices out, low and tenderly. A tone so very different than the last time he spoke to you. When you broke up with him over the phone.

"Hey." - you return, the sound that slips past your lips is pure unsurenes.

You both look at eachother in silence for a moment. There's so much to be said , yet none of you decides to go there. Not now, not here.

"You...what are you doing here?" - a question sent in his regard ,whose answer your ears desire to hear. Philip looks to a side , down the old road. His fingers lift up to scratch his head.

"A friend invited me over" - he starts, licking his lips. You note that he finds it hard to find the right words, as if you make him uncomfortable. This has never happened before, he was always smooth with his speech around you. - "For a birthday party." - he specifies and you nod to show him you understand. Philip clears his throat once your eyes shift to the gas station, whose doors open automatically and a tall, blonde figure walks out. - "How about you? What are you doing here?"

"Just passing by..." - you don't even pay attention to your answer while you continue to watch Miranda getting closer and closer to the car, she's looking down into her phone, distracted.

"Alone?" - Philip points to the empty driver's seat.

"No, with..." - what is your relationship with Miranda again? - "...my boss."

Miranda opens her door the moment the words come out of your mouth. She quickly positions herself in her seat , the black seatbelt immediately going around her torso, as she's keen on safety. You're not surprised when you spot the not one , but two freshly new cigarette boxes in her lap.

Your head spins from her back to Philip. You find him horrified. His lips are slightly parted, as if he wants to scream but his body doesn't allow it. He looks completely frozen in his place, with widened, unblocking eyes. A closer observation points out his trembling hands. Meanwhile his whole face is covered in extreme fear.

"You..." - he whispers, slowly bowing his head in Miranda's direction. As she turns to look at who's so pathetically murmuring that close to her , a vicious smile curls the edges of her lips upwards.

"Hush, little boy." - she waves her hand towards the open window on her side - "I think you've got the wrong car."

"I apologise, I-"

"Wait." - you voice out , earning yourself an eyebrow arc from Miranda and a confused look from Philip. He's clearly scared of the woman, not like you blame him - she tends to be scary. Yet , he can't just be as horrified as he is without seeing her in the past. - "Do you know her?"

He hesitates, biting his lip and looking to a side, ignoring your questions and trying his best to avoid your glance. Instead of rooting an answer out of him, however, you get it from someone else.

"No." - Miranda scoffs , unbothered by the situation, she inserts the key into the ignition and turns it until the engine roars to life.

"No..." - Philip repeats, though not as convincing as Miranda. He takes a step back , shaking his head. You open your mouth, so many questions trying to escape, waiting to be spoken out. You fail in that , because the radio begins to play nearly the same time with your window rolling back up.

Miranda drives away as fast as she possibly can. Leaving Philip at the gas station, sadly waving you goodbye.

There's no way they know eachother. Right? Miranda just have this effect on people, on men. She hates them, therefore she feels no need to be charming with them. Right? But Philip's fear felt somehow different, deeper and...personal. And Miranda...she acts weird very often, but this was very unusual even for her. They can't know eachother, they can't. ...Right?

"Stop the car." - you command.

"Why?" - Miranda doesn't feel the need to look at you, she just continues to keep her eyes on the road, always the careful driver she is. When you repeat your wish she groans annoyed. - "No, darling, we're almost there I'm not going to-"

"Stop the damn car, Miranda!" - you find yourself practically screaming at her , extending your arms , in attempt to grab the the steering wheel. She slaps your hands away the moment they move too close to her personal space. The car makes a weird half turn before she manages to park it safely on the side of the road.

"Are you trying to get us into a car crash?" - she huffs , running her fingers through her hair. She takes a deep breath in, then she gives you a concerned look. A soft palm cups your cheek , you, however, refuse to lean into her touch. - "Are you upset about Philip, darling?"

"Don't call me that." - you grab her wrist, your fingertips making contact with the golden chain bracelet hooked around it. You push her hand back, a wave of confusion travels through her eyebrows.

"Don't call you what? 'Darling?'" - she suggests.

"He...used to call me that." - it's only now that you realise Miranda has given you this nickname nearly the same time you broke up with Philip. Adds more weirdness to the situation.

"So?" - she growls when in attempt to touch you again - you deny her, sinking deeper into the back of your seat. - "I thought you were over him."

"Miranda you-" - hesitation runs through your veins once her lips manage to get close enough to yours and brush against them. Your chest tightens when your palms push against her shoulders, her seatbelt is off , if you don't stop her now she might as well get on top of you with ease. - "Did your fuck my boyfriend?"

"Ex boyfriend, darling, please."

"I'm serious, Miranda!" - you don't bother with your nails digging into her skin. Though she doesn't show any signs of pain, she backs off , her eyes carefully observing the way your chest begins to lifts up and down rapidly. You're grateful for the window she rolls down, allowing fresh air to enter the car. - "I'm not stupid, nor I am blind. Did you do it?"

"Ridiculous." - she mutters , voice low as a whisper. - "You know well i have no interest in men."

"Yeah because they can't work you up the way want it, right?" - you blink fast , trying to prevent your voice from going higher, even though you're already screaming at her. Miranda purses her lips, although she's annoyed, she listens carefully. - "So you go after their girlfriends instead!"

"I don't understand why you're getting so angry about something you wished to happen." - she clenches her jaw, still trying to be reasonable. Very few people are allowed to talk back to her with such audacity. You're in luck you're one of them.

"What?" - you ask, out of breath.

"I asked you." - she grabs her forehead. - "if you desire to know if he's cheating. You agreed." - she pauses , a small smile born of pride appears on her lips. - "And you got your answer, correct?"

"You're insane." - those words are old , but unforgettable, not once have you sent them to Miranda's regard. She's not as bothered by hearing them as she was before, though now they manage to pull a string inside her chest, making her breath hitch. - "I can't believe you-" - you stop yourself, covering your mouth. - "What if I had told you I wanted him dead - would you have killed him?"

"Anything to make you happy." - Miranda finds your question fascinatingly stupid.

"I blamed him, Miranda." - you point at her, your face getting angrier with each reply she delivers, as every single one is totally unhinged. - "When it was your fault, I- didn't ask you to fuck him. You- he's innocent. And I broke up with him for your own selfish reasons, you-"

"Do you think I'll ever allow a man to touch me , let alone take me the way you did last night?" - her fingers begin to play with the edges of her shirt, her head bowed low, golden hair slipping around her shoulders. - "He was so awfully drunk, it was easy to make him believe he slept with me, but darling trust me when i say this - I didn't touch him , at all." - she takes your hand in hers , you allow her to drag it to her lips and place gentle kisses along the path of your knuckles. - "Besides, i think it's time for you to stop worrying about your ex boyfriend and start thinking about your girlfriend instead."

"I have no-" - you stop, blinking a few times to process her words. Half of your palm is already caressing her cheek , she guides it against her skin. - "Wait , you think of us like girlfriends?"

"Well I certainly don't consider us friends with benefits, darling." - Miranda lets out a soft sigh when your fingers tug a few strings of hair behind her ear , then she closes her eyes as tender nail scratches land on her scalp. She doesn't mind it when you play with her hair, at all.

"I didn't even know you considered us friends." - you joke, your other arm also extends until your palm finds the other side of her face. Then you tilt your head to a side, smiling when she open just one eye to look at you. - "Do you even have friends, Miranda?"

"You're changing the topic." - oh, she doesn't have a single one.

"Look...I don't mind being your girlfriend, or your friend in that matter." - you squeeze her cheeks, finding it extremely cute how she lazily opens her eyes to look at you. - "But you have to stop lying to me." - your thumb brushes with her bottom lip , since her seatbelt is off she can easily stretch her torso and kiss you, but you're still with it which limits your movements. - "Promise me."

"You trust me?" - she questions, finding it hard to believe.

"I know you didn't fuck him, Miranda." - he doesn't stand a chance with her anyway. - "However the fact that you seduced him , forcing him to believe into something that never happened, is enough to hurt me." - finally she decides to push herself forward, bringing her face closer to yours. - "Even if you did it for my sake."

Philip is a long lost case. You wouldn't dare to return to him even if Miranda really allowed him to warm her bed before you could do it. Yet he doesn't deserve to be blaming himself over something that is far away from the truth.

"Never again then, darling, I promise." - you'll never get tired of licking the sweet lipgloss off her lips as they continuously claim yours. You push her shoulders back before she can force her tongue into your mouth. Her teeth immediately land on the edge of your jaw. Well that's a new place to bite. - "Is it that selfish?" - she asks, although you pay more attention to the hand that tries its best to slip beneath your shirt. - "my hope for us to work out even before yesterday, or even before that..."

Perhaps around the time you broke up with your boyfriend. Miranda was there , silently watching you as you went to a breakdown, and that was still enough to calm you down.

"The kids, Mira." - you breath out, reminding her of her daughters.

"The kids, right." - she places one last kiss on your cheek before returning back to her seat and starting the car, taking the road up to the castle.

***** No matter how hard you try , how much you turn and toss in your bed - you find it impossible to drift into sweet sleep. At first you were feeling too hot - kicking the blanket off your body at the end of the bed was a solution that worked only for a while. After a few minutes the mansion decided to show you exactly how cold it can get, so you were forced to cover yourself yet again.

But it's not only those heatwaves that come and go that bother you. Your bed is not even close to being as soft as Miranda's. The pillows are too thin , the sheets don't smell like her. You hate it. After spending all day and night with her it's hard to go to sleep without having her snuggle into your embrace. You feel rather lonely.

And that same loneliness is the fuel that guides your legs down the corridor, closer and closer to the blonde woman's bedroom.

Miranda is a light sleeper. She opens her eyes at the first knock delivered on the surface of her wooden door. Even though she hates to be awaken in the middle of the night, which happens way too often recently, she smiles knowing it's you on the other side. A side of her hopes you've come to propose something more intriguing than her sleep, devoid of dreams.

"The hour is quite late, darling, don't you think?" - she asks, teasingly, rubbing her still fluffy, sleepy eyes. You swallow, taking in the view in front of you. Miranda always manages to look devine - even with the messy golden nest she call hair around her head , and the short, dark nightgown she's currently wearing.

"I can't sleep." - your tongue travels along your chapped lips as you lean on the doorframe, enjoying the way Miranda's eyes also scan your body closely.

"And you think wandering into my bedroom will fix your problem?" - although she speaks with a voice, drowned in mockery, she still steps aside, opening her door wide, an invite you gladly accept. - "Do come in, though"

"I just kind of...missed you?" - what an excuse, your whole day was spent with her. She chuckles.

"I do tend to have such effect on women, darling."

Her hands are gentle, but demanding when they wrap around your waist, her lips waste no time in connecting with the skin of your neck. You expect her to place you literally everywhere - pin you to the wall, throw you on the bed or simply take you on the floor, but no - out of all places you end up sitting nicely in front of her vanity.

"Miranda..." - you turn your head to look at her, a second later her fingers come to hold your chin, forcing you to face yourself in the mirror.

"Stay still." - a simple command you fail to follow as your body is itching to touch hers. You have no idea why she's making you so needy.

"Mira..." - you hear the clang of metal hitting into metal echoing close to your ears, and then you feel the cold material around your neck. And Miranda's thin fingers that works fast to tie it nicely so it can stay there.

"I said something." - she tugs on the necklace, the large pendulum positions itself right in the middle of your collarbone. The silver metal matches nicely with your skin, the jewelry shiny and rich looking. It suits you perfectly, as if it's made for you personally. - "Do you like it, little deer?"

"It's beautiful." - your digits lift up in order to run along the length of the necklace.

"It's yours." - Miranda whispers near the shell of your ear before placing a tender kiss there. She then takes a seat on top of her vanity, bending her back so she's still hoovering over you. Her palms caress your face, your hair, your neck...and she looks at you with such pretty, rich coloured, dreamy eyes. It's hard not to get lost into them.

"I suck at relationships, darling." - she sighs. - "I often cross the line between giving too much and giving too little. I'm not certain how to...maintain my feelings."

"I know, Mira." - her character is definitely hard to handle. A big part of you, however, knows exactly how to match with her attitude. - "I don't want to force you into a relationship, just because we slept together." - you pause to gather your thoughts. - "I know it was a moment of passion for both of us."

"There was no passion." - she sounds more than certain, a sharp finger is traveling at the edge of your jawline. - "I was thrilled by something else. I feel you closer on a whole different level."

"You're attracted to sympathy, Miranda?" - you grin, kissing the fingertips which wander curiously across your lips. You then grab her wrist, placing a trace of kisses there as well. - "Is that what you're trying to say?"

"My emotions are something I struggle a lot with." - she explains, observing closely while your lips continue to travel up her arm. At some point you stand up so you can reach her neck. - "They run deep and...they are too great for a single person to handle."

"Then let me have half of them." - you suggest, teeth nipping at that sensitive point where her neck connects with her shoulder. - "That simple, Mira."

Instead of kissing you, this time the woman practically drags you into her embrace, burying her head in the crook of your neck. She adore physical intimacy, especially one that is not born from passion, just shared admiration. She breaths in your scent , trying to remember it well.

"I do hope you can see me in a different light." - she whispers. - "I do hope you can realise I'm not completely evil, darling."

One kiss on your forehead is enough to cut any questions from forming inside your head. The last thing you see before the world caves is , surrounding you with pure darkness, is Miranda's tender eyes looking down at you, filled with pity and sadness.

*****

"I can't be a father." - the man with a blurred face says , his voice roughly and hardly recognisable. His body keeps on changing with each movement he makes - hinting that the memory of his exact height and weight is lost. The only certain things that shines in him are the golden , curly locks of hair occupying his head.

"You're acting as if the happening is my complete fault." - the woman that answers him is very easy to acknowledge, to remember and recognise. Despite the different colour of her hair , Miranda's face is the same, the two deep wells she calls eyes still have that wild flame of a single candle in the wind, stitched into them.

"You find yourself in luck, woman - do thank the God for your immaculate beauty, because without it you're nothing." - the man is not careful with his word, in fact each one of them aims to hit the brunette woman directly into her vulnerable heart. - "Do you even know what the villagers are whispering about you and your...witchcraft."

A witch, a whore, a monster. She has heard it all.

"Witchcraft?" - Miranda exclaims. - "It's medicine! I help people, i do not make potions."

"Help yourself then." - a few steps are taken closer to her by the man , making her feel uneasy. - "Use your precious medicine to get rid of the baby inside your belly."

"You want me to kill the only single blessing in my life?" - the pain in her voice can be not only heard, but felt. It mixes with the quiet tone of fear.

"It is a curse!" - the man grabs her shoulders, looking down at her body. - "You - all of you is a curse sent by the Devil himself to torture me."

"A curse, you say?" - Miranda laughs, trying her best to break free from his grip. - "Yet you call me a goddess everytime I'm in your bed."

"You were , for a while." - he lifts a finger in attempt to stop her squirming. She's afraid of his rough hand landing on her, now that she has more than just her body to protect. - "That was, of course, until you got yourself pregnant."

"With your child!" - she defends herself, grabbing his larger hand in between her palms. She hesitates to bring it down to her abdomen, however.- "Our child. It's going to be our child."

"We're not married, Miranda." - she knows it's bad when he speaks her name out loud. The woman swallows hard, her legs begin to tremble. - "The church will not accept a bastard child. Nor will my father, given his position as a priest."

"Then marry me. Make me your wife." - she hisses when his grip tightness, she knows his rough hands are going to leave red marks, which she'll have to hide again. - "Do that instead of taking me every night like a coward. And then blaming me for the consequences."

The slap that lands on her cheek is deserved. At least that's what the man believes in. Miranda stays silent.

"You don't realise it, but unlike you - I have a decent future ahead of me." - she lets out a groan of pain when he grabs her by the collar of her dress, forcing her legs to depart from the floor. She hates men's roughness. - "You're not going to ruin it, woman." - she finds it difficult to breathe, the man is unbothered. - "Get rid of it" - he says, not even considering his child as a human being. - "Before I do."

The first time Miranda's God betrayed her was when she found herself at the bottom of a high staircase. Pain pulsating in the lower part of her leg. She knows her ankle is broken, the scar of it stayed even after her immortally was gifted to her, as the wound happened to appear years before that. She doesn't care about her leg, or the awful pain, her arms are wrapped around her stomach as she begs for her unborn child to be in a fine condition. Not perfect, she just needs fine.

The faceless man observes her closely at the top of the staircase, looking down at her as if she's an ant. His hands transform into fists, his blood boiling. Miranda refused to follow his desires and he tends to be a man of his word. He didn't expected, however, for the attempt to fail. Doesn't matter for him, there's always going go be another time for a new try. He leaves in silence, ignoring her cries.

The second time Miranda felt like her god hated her was when the faceless man was taking her yet again. In the dark hour of the night, her body pressed to the uncomfortable mattress, her legs on his shoulders. He has always been rough, but the pain she's currently experiencing is greater than any other. Yet Miranda can't say a word - after all she has a roof over her head, she's being fed , she has a ring around her finger and a beautiful, healthy daughter sleeping in the other room.

She can take her husband's irritation all night if she needs to, shall it means her life can stay as peaceful as it currently is. It's funny how her world can flip upside down with just one sentence. She begged him , all morning, not to take Eva outside, as the flu is easily transferred. Yet he refused.

"She got sick." - her husband whispers, right before finishing, not bothering to pull out of her. After that she ran to her daughter's room. And she didn't come out until the girl died in her hands.

The third time God mocks her is her last straw. Her daughter, the innocent child lays dead in her coffin, her face covered in a black towel, not allowing the people gathered around to see the horrors that the flu has done to her skin.

Miranda went insane. Ten years, in which she faked being a happy wife , while having to live with a man that was constantly thinking of ending hers and her daughter's lives. Ten years, in which she had to visit church daily, to repents of her sins, meanwhile her husband was seen as a victim and a hero for deciding to marry an unholy woman like they portraited her to be. Miranda didn't even get the chance to name her child, that was the name the church gave her. Ten years...are too short for a child to live.

She had her fun watching the old structure burn , along with her awful excuse of a husband and his half-dead father. Let them call her a witch, a murderer, a devil. She doesn't care. Tonight she kills her God. Tonight she kills herself - because without the only blessing in her life she's nothing.

The world spins, time changes , day becomes night.

Miranda doesn't look like herself when she steps into the full of people club. Her height, her body, her voice, her face , her hair , everything is different. She's you. And she's here on a mission. Philip is easy to spot, she forces a smile upon moving closer to him. A hand on his shoulder forces him to freeze.

"Darling?" - he asks confused. - "What are you doing here?"

"I miss you." - lies come easily to her and while he's influenced of alcohol the man doesn't complain. Especially when his girlfriend, who's supposed to be far away and very mad at him casually shows up out of nowhere.

Miranda takes him to a hotel, where she orders him to undress and get into the bed. She tells him she'll be right back. She stays in the bathroom long enough for him to fall asleep. Exactly what she needs. She pulls a chair and sits next to the bed. All she has left is to wait.

In the morning, when she senses Philip is about to wake up - Miranda stands up to remove the dress she's wearing. Her hair shines back in golden colour the second she runs her fingers through it. After a few twists in her body - it shapes back into her usual self. She positions herself right next to the man in the bed. Watching his reaction upon seeing a completely different woman from his girlfriend laying next to him is awfully funny her. Philip will blame everything on the alcohol.

"Who are you?" - he questions in panic.

"Doesn't matter." - Miranda voices out , grabbing his chin, anything but gentle, and forces him to look at her.

"But-"

"Listen here, insolent boy." - he stops talking almost immediately. Good. Miranda smiles, adding fake sympathy to her voice. - "I'll leave in a few minutes, I want you to call your girlfriend after that and tell her what you've done."

It's on the tip of his tongue to ask exactly what he's done, but his eyes hint him the answer way too well. He's naked with another woman in a messy, hotel bed. It's easy to put the pieces together.

"Tell her what a fucking fool you are." - she takes joy in how his face twists in fear. - "Apologies for treating her bad , say you don't deserve her." - she pats his head. - "Because you don't, you truly don't. No matter how hard you try - you won't find such a treasure like her ever again."

"How do you... how do you even know about her?"

"Oh, darling boy , don't worry your head." - she bares his teeth at him. - "she's not your responsibility anymore."

***** All of your mixed, weird dreams evaporate from your head almost immediately after you wake up with a gasp, sweat covering your forehead, in the middle of the night. Your head hurts more and more with every attempt to try and remember different parts of all the scenarios lurking in your mind.

Only one image is clear - Miranda. You find comfort in hugging the real her, who's peacefully sleeping next to you. Your headache fades the second your skin presses to hers.

She's both a curse and a blessing, a goddess and a devil... she's all you care about for the rest of the night.

#mother miranda #re8 village #missing miranda hours #mother miranda x reader #fanfic #resident evil 8 #i love her #reader x mother miranda #babysitter au

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