#i did what the voice told me to do and it said to turn miranda into an instrument alright leave us alone

[lamps666]

#monster prom #discord shenanigans #miranda vanderbilt #marimba #i did what the voice told me to do and it said to turn miranda into an instrument alright leave us alone

[azurlily]

i saw that request for resident lover is open soo... may i ask for some cassandra smut? i NEED this woman her way with me

Yall are down bad, but I am too so no worries. I fully intend to write smut for Alcina and Miranda later. If anyone would like to request a special kind of smut with them, I'd be more than happy to write it. - L and W

I also have a dark one-shot(maybe more) for Cassandra's BAD end. I'm so down bad for scary Cass, and I think her turning to the dark side, but still loving you is perfect. - L

THIS HAS NOT BEEN SPELL CHECKED! Made by Lune and Wora.

"Cassie, I know you said you had some big birthday gift for me, but considering we're not in the theater and instead in your room, I'm slightly worried..."

You heard rustling around the room, and you hear a loud and pretentious scoff. You smirk, knowing you've offended your girlfriend in some way.

"I'll have you know that my entire life doesn't revolve around theater. It revolves around you; you're my world. As for your gift, if you don't like this, I don't know what you'll like!"

You can hear the cheery happiness in her tone; she's more excited about this than you were.

Previously, Cassandra had told you she was doing something a bit different for your birthday. All you had to do was stand in the bedroom and wait. With your eyes closed of course!

You make a snarky remark back and based upon the fact that Cassandra doesn't answer you assume she's ignoring you. You continue to hear rustling and even some groaning on her part. What could she possibly be doing?

"Alright, you're allowed to look!"

You smile and open your eyes only to see something that's absolutely engraved into your mind and while stay there until the say you die.

Cassandra is wearing a lacy red and black lingerie set. The base itself is black, while the design is a crimson red, adorning Cassie's skin elegantly. Cassandra can make just about anything look good, and she's proving that right now. Cassie has her arms behind her back and the most lovestruck and mischievous look on her face.

She looks like she's going to eat you, and you would let her. In the state you're in right now, you'd let that woman do anything to you. And you'd thank her for all of it.

You stare so hard that Cassandra begins to blush bashfully. You haven't spoken a word, and at first, Cassandra worried that you didn't like it. That was until she saw the awestruck look in your eyes. You're mentally preparing yourself.

"Are you just going to sit there, my star? If so, I just might have to take care of myself if you won't... And to think I was going to let you top tonight, what a shame."

That snapped you out of it quickly, you look up at her like a love sick puppy and shake your head.

"No, no, no, I-I want to take care of you Cassie. I want to-"

You're cut off with a finger to your lips. Cassandra pulls her finger away and leans down, she gently kisses you on the lips. It felt amazing, you two had kissed many times, but this? This was different in some way, some way you couldn't properly explain. Nor did you want to.

Explaining would mean you'd have to start thinking, and you didn't want to do that. You wanted to become a girl shaped pile of mush that let Cassandra do whatever she pleased to her.

The taste of Cassandra's lips were intoxicating; espresso and chocolate. They melded so well together, and being able to taste them on your girlfriends lips made them taste even better together.

Cassandra pulls from you with a devious look on her face.

"I guess you can try to top me next year, star. After seeing the look on your face-"

Cassandra's voice gets lower, her eyes darken and she shifts your chin so your looking her in the eyes.

"-I fully intend to take good care of you and your body. Now l hope those clothes aren't important because I will be ripping them off."

Cassandra quickly mumbles something about buying you more later before grabbing your shirt and making good on her words. She rips your shirt in two. She almost did the same to your shorts, but you talked her into letting you strip.

Of course, Cassandra being the impatient person she is, once you were down to just your bra, she grabbed you and pulled you onto the bed. The look in her eyes made you wonder if you were going to survive the night.

"Hands on the headboard, you know the deal."

Her voice change sent shivers down your spine. The usually velvety smooth voice has gotten dark, rough. Cassandra not only looked at you like she was going to eat you, she sounded like she was too.

Cassandra's hands begin to explore, one on your stomach kneading and pressing her hand into it. The other playing with your chest, she runs her fingers over your nipples softly before giving them a hard pinch.

You yelp and she laughs melodiously, it sounds so sweet. You'd revel in the sound of her voice more, but what her hands are doing is far more important.

The hand that was previously on your stomach has found it's way into your underwear. Cassandra has a finger pressed against your puffy clit, and the rest of her fingers are cupping your pussy.

Feeling her touch your bundle of nerves, you buck into her hand. That results in a harsh slap to your thigh. You whimper, but otherwise keep quiet.

You know what you want, she knows what you want. You hoped that it was only a matter if time before you got it, but that was for her to decide.

Cassandra pulls rips your panties off of you and spreads your legs. She wants you on full display, she wants to see the embarrassment on your face knowing she got herself all dolled up for you.

But you don't get to touch her, meanwhile she can rip your clothes off and treat you how you deserve to be treated. Cassandra looks at your face, you look absolutely debauched.

"Mercy is a wonderful thing, my star."

Cassandra dips her head down between your thighs, she uses two fingers to spread your folds apart and begins sucking on your clit.

You whine loudly and squirm, you begin moving too much for Cassandra's liking so she grabs you by your thighs and all but presses you into her.

Cassandra mounts both your legs onto her shoulders. The look in her eyes isn't one of love, it's pure lust.

Cassandra moves one of her hands down onto your cunt, she presses two fingers into you. You're already so fucking wet, these will surely fit. And she's right, they practically slide in, god you wanted this.

Cassandra enjoys it for a moment, getting onto a rythm of sucking on your clit and pumping two fingers inside you at the same time.

Meanwhile you whined, at first you were begging- for what you did not know, but now you're spouting unintelligible words that you aren't sure go together.

Cassandra's tounge always brings you to the edge the fastest, and paired with her fingers and the lingerie. You were bound to have quite the fun night. Because you've learned the hard way that Cassandra enjoys forcing one orgasm after the other.

She enjoys seeing the dumb and fuck out look on your face when shes done. The tear stained cheeks and the bite marks and throbbing hickeys all turn her on in a way she doesn't understand.

Cassandra can feel you tightening around her fingers. She stops sucking on your clit and begins sucking your tits. Meanwhile, the other hand holds onto your thigh. Cassandra lets go and presses against your stomach, gently applying pressure.

Cassandra breaks away from your tits, deciding to stake her claim elsewhere. She moves to your neck and begins sucking small hickeys before getting impatient and biting down.

"C-Cassie! A-ah, oh fuck-"

"You can pull your hands down, and I won't make you beg to cum. Although that is one of my favorite activities..."

You wrap your arms around her back and dig your nails into her skin. Your body is melting; it has to be. This is too much all at once, and yet you just want more and more.

"Ah-fuck... my star. That's it press against me as much you n-need."

Cassandra talks you through your orgasm and you whimper and whine the entire time. It's just so much, and as good as this feels you know this isn't even close to the end.

As you ride out the last of your orgasmic bliss, you feel Cassandra pull her hands away. When you open your eyes you see shes moved off the bed and is standing there with a dark red strap.

"You're choice star, either you sit on my face and I eat you until you see stars...or I rail you over the bed. Both will be happening, but you get to choose which one first!"

Cassandra had that charismatic look in her eyes, the one that held darkness and need. A need you could fill so very easily.

"So what will it be, little star?"

I regret being a co-writer to this monstrosity. - W

Anyway we hope yall like this to some extent. Also of course if you haven't played Resident Lover(a free sapphic game based off of Resident Evil: Village) you definitely should. The people that made such an amazing game are @resident-lover .

#wlw #lesbian #women are hot #cassandra dimitrescu #Cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident lover spoilers #resident evil fangame #resident lover #Cassandra is so hot #wlw nsft #sapphic #lesbian nsft #nsft

[differenteagletragedy]

The summer after you graduated high school was something you'd always you'd always treasure -- you realized that much even as it was happening. It was the last little period in your life before you'd become a full-fledged adult, the last time you'd be able to have a long holiday without a care in the world.

All too soon, things would change forever. It was daunting to think about.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You jerked your head around to see Baxter, your new neighbor, giving you a small grin. The two of you were sitting on the beach while Cove, Terri and Miranda were playing nearby in the sand. You must have spaced out.

"I don't think they're exciting enough to pay for," you told him, smiling back.

"Oh, somehow I doubt that."

You rolled your eyes at his suggestive tone, and he laughed. You'd only known him for a few weeks at that point, but you'd been able to tell right off how big of a flirt he was. It was amusing, and you did like being around him, but you didn't see him in any sort of romantic light.

"Hey there, guys and gals!"

You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice and saw the reason you couldn't be more than friends with Baxter -- with anyone -- strolling towards you, big green eyes and sunny smile brightening up the day.

"Derek!" you called out excitedly, standing up and running to meet him.

He let out a chuckle that you felt against your chest as you threw yourself at him. He picked you up in his strong arms, swinging you around before setting you gently back down on the sand.

"Hey," he said softly, an extra greeting just for you.

"I'm so glad you made it," you told him. Your arms were still around his shoulders and his were still around your waist -- it had been a long time since you'd seen each other in person, and you didn't want to let him go anytime soon.

"I meant what I said," he replied, referring to a conversation you'd had right after graduation. "I'm going to be around this summer. You're too important to --"'

Before he could finish his thought, you heard the rest of the gang gather behind you. Terri laughed and threw a friendly punch at Derek's shoulder.

"What about us, are we important too or are you guys just gonna stand up here by yourselves all day?" she joked.

"You're all important," Derek said, letting go of you. He offered a smile towards everyone, and when his eyes met Baxter's, it widened a bit. He held out his hand to him, and Baxter took it, giving him a firm handshake.

"Derek, this is Baxter. Baxter, Derek," Cove said.

With introductions out of the way, you went back to your spot on the beach. Derek, who was wearing swim trunks and had already taken his shirt off, kept moving towards the water while Baxter stopped back at his towel. You were partway between them, desperate to spend time with your old friend but not wanting to abandon your new one.

"Go on," Baxter said quietly when you turned back to look at him. He nodded towards Derek and gave you a wink so quick you almost missed it.

Later, after your group had spent several hours at the beach, you made your way back up the street, and after a quick conversation, you'd all decided to embark on a quest to locate an ice cream truck.

"I'm more than happy to drive," Baxter said, sliding his keys out of his pocket, "but there are six of us and my car only seats five."

"I can drive!" Derek offered quickly, pulling out his own keys.

"Excellent," your new neighbor said, glancing your way. His usual smirk turned a little more devious than normal, and he brought up a hand to stroke his chin in thought. "But how do we select the seating arrangements?"

"I can ride with Derek," Cove said. It wasn't a surprise to anyone there that he'd prefer to be with Derek over Baxter.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd ride with me," Baxter told him. "I'm such a stranger to the area, it would be invaluable to have a local helping me navigate."

Miranda took a moment to eye Baxter, looked to you, then said, "I'm thinking Terri and I should go with you too, Baxter. I'll have to track down a truck on my phone and Terri can help you around the city better than Cove."

"Then it's settled," Baxter said triumphantly. "Cove, Miranda and Terri will ride with me, we can lead the way."

He shot a smug look at you before he began walking over to his car. He was scheming, you could tell that much, but you weren't sure exactly why.

"Looks like that leaves you and me then," Derek said, not looking at all unhappy with the prospect.

He walked briskly over to his own car, jogging to the passenger side so he could open the door for you before you could get it yourself. When you were safely inside, he closed the door behind you, got in himself and the pulled out, following Baxter at a safe distance.

"This is fun," he said, staring ahead at the road. "Baxter seems like a cool guy."

You snorted. That was one way to put it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A while later, the six of you were walking down the street you'd found in the suburbs, sharing the frozen treats you'd purchased from the ice cream truck. Miranda and Terri were leading the group, talking about snow cones, and Cove and Derek were a bit behind them, taking the time to catch up.

That left you and Baxter to bring up the rear, and he wasted no time in sharing what was on his mind.

"So," he said, taking a careful bite of his ice cream sandwich. "How long have you been hopelessly in love with Derek?"

You stopped in the street, your mouth hanging open in shock. Sure, you had a massive crush on Derek, but were you really that obvious?

Baxter laughed, grabbing your arm and giving you a tug so you'd start walking again.

"I won't tell a soul if it's meant to be a secret," he assured you. "But for what it's worth, he loves you back."

"What are you talking about?" you hissed, pointedly looking forward at Derek, who wasn't all that far ahead of you. As if to prove your point, he turned back after feeling your eyes on him and smiled at you. You thought you noticed a faint blush creep on his cheeks before he turned back to Cove.

"We're friends," you told Baxter, settling down a bit but still keeping your voice as low as possible.

"Last I checked, friends don't look at friends the way he looked at you when you took a bite of his popsicle."'

"Baxter."

He was still smirking, but his expression turned sincere.

"Look, I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable," he said. "It's not my intention, though I can't deny it is fun. I'm merely pointing out that you clearly have feelings for him, and he does for you as well. Even as an outsider, that much is obvious."

You thought about what he said, even when the conversation changed topics. The six of you ended up by someone's curb, finishing up your snacks and chatting, and when the sprinklers came on in the yard you were standing in front of, you all played in them like you were little kids again.

After the water was finally turned off, all of you were drenched to the bone and breathless. You were standing by Derek, and when he noticed you'd started shivering from the cold, he darted to his car. When he came back, he had a couple of towels and a hoodie.

"Thanks," you told him, taking the towel he offered. You dried off, getting as dry as you could, and when you were done he handed you the shirt.

"What?" you asked.

"Here, put it on," he answered, holding the hoodie out closer to you.

"No, you can have it."

"I'm not cold," he laughed, and when you took a closer look at him, you saw it was true. He looked comfortable. And judging by the way he all but pushed the article of clothing into your arms, he really wanted you to be comfortable too.

You finally thanked him and pulled the hoodie over your head, trying not to get too lost in how much it smelled like him. When you poked your head through the neck hole, you smiled at him.

He was already smiling back.

#our life beginnings and always #our life #cove holden #baxter ward #derek suarez #our life baxter #our life derek #derek x reader #derek x mc #derek x you #derek suarez x you #derek suarez x mc #derek suarez x reader

[ctitan98official]

Anonymous: Hello, I don't know if you have done this before but think about it, RE8 ladies with a s/o who is a ghost, they used to be human but they died and became one. Sorry for any mistakes, I'm still learning the language. Have a nice day ~

This is cool! (Your english is great by the way!) Let’s get into it!

Note: TW/CW Angst and slight gore (Nothing too graphic)

Alcina:

You lived a beautiful life with Alcina. You had been married to her for more than fifty years.

You always asked if she would help you get the cadou so you could be together forever, but she always said that the risk was too great.

In the end, you were at peace with this decision.

She held your hand as you took your last breaths and wept at you telling her how much you loved her one last time.

Alcina had grieved your loss for months, but one day when she was in her study looking at old photos of the two of you together, she thought she heard your laugh.

She turned around, only to find a ghostly apparition of a younger version of you grinning back at her. This was the Y/N that she originally fell in love with.

She screamed in surprise and put a hand to her mouth in shock. She could not believe what she was seeing.

You told her that you had been watching over her and always would. You held out your hand to her, but when she went to touch it, her hand went right through yours.

You couldn’t manifest for long periods of time, but you visited Alcina whenever you could.

Donna:

You had been living with Donna for a couple of months and you two were madly in love.

You couldn’t bear the thought of ever leaving her alone, so you ventured alone to visit Mother Miranda to see if she would implant you with the cadou.

Miranda was wary at first because you were doing this without Donna’s permission, but she also knew how important this was to you. Eventually she gave in.

The implantation was an absolute disaster. Your body did not bond with the cadou and it ended up killing you with extreme brutality.

Donna wept and fell to her knees when she heard what had happened. She couldn’t lose you.

Later on, Donna begins hearing whispers that sound like you. She walks into the living room one day to find a doll that looks exactly like you!

To her surprise, the little doll walks over to her and speaks with your voice as well!

It seems you were able to place your consciousness into the doll.

Donna is so overjoyed to see you she cries happy tears. You two would now be together forever, albeit in a much different way.

Miranda:

It’s no secret that Miranda has a lot of enemies. She is not scared of threats directed at herself, but when they involve you it chills her to the bone.

One night, a riot broke out in the village and you went out to try and quell the violence. People took notice of your presence and dragged you to the maiden of war statue while you kicked and thrashed.

One villager said: “This is the traitor! They side with Mother Miranda, let’s make them pay!”

The crowd roared as you were murdered in cold blood.

Miranda senses something is not right and flies into the village only to see your lifeless corpse.

She screams in agony and massacres anyone that was involved.

Miranda feels intense guilt that she is the reason you’re dead.

A few days later, you manifest in front of her and tell her that it’s not her fault.

She is speechless. You playfully joke that you’ll keep bugging her until she forgives herself.

Miranda is so grateful to still have you around in some way or another.

Bela:

Bela and you had fallen in love so fast. It’s like you were made for one another.

She couldn’t imagine not having you around and she always worried something might happen to take you away from her.

You had a previous relationship with a woman from the village. It was pretty serious, but not true love like you and Bela shared.

One night, you are asleep in bed while Bela is in the dungeon. Your previous lover sneaks in with a crazed look in her eyes. “Big mistake leaving me, Y/N. We could have been so happy together.”

You startle awake with only enough time to watch her stab you in the abdomen multiple times.

You cough up blood and scream for Bela who immediately swarms to you.

She easily un-arms the deranged woman before snapping her neck, killing her instantly.

Bela returns to your side, but it is too late. You lay motionless on the bed, no longer breathing.

Bela screams at the injustice of it all.

She spends the next few months isolating in her room when she hears your voice softly call her name. She looks up to see you smiling at her and waving.

She is stunned, she runs to hug you, but she passes right through your ethereal form.

You laugh and say you will always be there to talk.

Bela is comforted at having you with her still.

Cassandra:

Cass and you loved to be outdoors and do things together.

One day, she is busy and can’t come with you so you decide to go on a solo hike through the forest.

As you are coming back, you have the strangest feeling that you are being followed.

You turn around only to find a lycan charging towards you.

It starts slashing away at your body with its gnarled claws and you feel yourself losing strength.

You fall to the ground in a pool of your own blood and start to slip away.

By the time Cass finds you, you lay dead on the ground, mangled.

She can’t believe her eyes. She runs to you and frantically tries to get you to wake up, but it is far too late.

Cass then does something she hasn’t done in a long time. She cries. She cries over the fact that she could have effortlessly taken down the lycan herself if she was there. She feels sorrow and guilt for the terror you must have felt out there all alone.

As she cries, she hears your voice and looks down at your body, hopeful that you may have revived somehow.

As she sees no movement, she looks behind her to see your ghostly form.

“All these tears for me?” You smile sadly.

Cass is sure she is hallucinating.

You tell her how much you love her and that you will try to visit her as much as you can. This arrangement makes Cass feel a bit better.

Daniela:

You lived a long and healthy life with Dani. You two were so in love.

Sadly, you were getting older and had developed a few health conditions that would soon take you away from your beloved Dani.

She begged Mother Miranda to use the cadou on you, but you had refused, saying that you were at peace and that this was just the way things were.

Mother Miranda agreed with your decision, saying it probably would not work on your ailing body anyway.

Dani sat by your side and held your hand as she watched the life dull in your eyes.

She was all alone now. You were her constant company and now she didn’t know what she was going to do.

She knew this would happen one day, but it didn’t make it any easier.

As Dani is going through your possessions one day, she hears a chuckle that sounds like you.

“Stealing my stuff now, babe?” You grin at her.

Dani immediately runs to hug you, but you are merely an apparition.

Dani tears up when she sees the youthful version of yourself she hasn’t witnessed in over 50 years.

You tell Dani that if she ever needs to talk you will try and visit her.

Dani is somewhat okay with this arrangement, but you can never stay long enough on your visits to truly satisfy her need to be around you.

Masterlist

#re8 #re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x y/n #cassandra dimitrescu #re8 shitpost #y/n is stupid #re8 incorrect quotes #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #donna beneviento x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader

[zeroone-eleven]

Third Time's the Charm; Bela Dimitrescu (Resident Lover)

-------------------------------------------------------

Requested? ☑

"What a shame she's fucked in the head, they said."

Summary: Bela places her trust in the wrong iteration. A dual POV on the Neutral Ending to Bela's route

Warnings: Angst, Miranda being an obsessed control freak

Genre: Angst

----------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶-----------------------

"You should've stayed well away, Bela."

A few days ago that voice would've made her blood turn cold upon hearing it. A few days ago she'd be stuck in place. A few years ago she'd have shut down at being spoken to by that woman.

Bela whips around with anger in her eyes and tension in her shoulders, her knuckles begging to be planted on the older woman's cheekbones- Over and over and over and over- But she composes herself before committing to assault.

"It would only further convince MC that I'm not alright." she tells herself. Bela breathes, and tries to speak with a levelled voice. She soon finds out that there is no one who has unwavering control over their tempers.

"You know what you've done, and eben though you refuse to tell me- I know you know what I'll try to do from here on out. You know that nothing can stop me as long as I'm on my own feet Miranda. Sooner rather than later, I'm going to find out exactly why I know most of what has happened before it happened before I was supposed to know. Once I'm free of you, I'll find my heart, take my life back, take whatever else it is that you took from me, and I will have all of the answers before I start a life that your cursed claws will never dig into. "

The Eldest Dimitrescu swears she sees something in Miranda's eyes for a second, fear? Astonishment? Surprise? Anger? She cannot place it and yet whatever it was, it gave her the resolve that was needed to mend her shattered strength. Bela stands tall, squaring her shoulders and meeting Miranda's guarded gaze with her eyes unblinking.

"I will not let you cage me like one of your pets. I'm not reinforcing your spell, and I'm not going to be dancing around your plans anymore- I will tear them down myself with my bare hands if I have to do so."

The barest hint of a smirk grazes and upturns Miranda's lips, her eyes showing glee- As if she's somehow won when everything has just begun. Bela scowls, she opens her mouth to throw questions at the older woman when she's beat by the Headmistress to what she wants to say.

The light jiggle of her apartment's door handle catches her attention, and she now knows that Miranda didn't come here to taunt her or question her:

Miranda's here to gloat. Bela knows only of one person would be batshit crazy enough to think to ask the Headmistress for help.

"I'm afraid I am not the one to cage you this time around, Flightless Bird." Miranda speaks with victory in her voice, like she's barely holding back a laugh. Bela chooses to ask the priestess about what her riddled sentence means when a faint screeching sound makes it way to her ears. Horror fills her eyes when she realizes-

Sirens.

Unrelenting sirens.

"What did you do?" She demands to be told. Miranda only schools her features before turning her back on her student.

"What did you do!?" She screams, aiming the glass in her hands towards Miranda's direction. She finds that she must be more disoriented than she thought as she sees the professor catch the glass like it was nothing before her hand glows dimly and the glass buckles and breaks in her grasp.

The Sirens grow louder and Bela's eyes follow the shards that Miranda drops to the floor. Her stomach sinks when she sees some of the shards stained with red, younger blues following the source of the red droplets.

The skin on Miranda's palm stays open.

The sirens grow louder and Bela notices the phone in her other hand too late.

Bela raises her voice again, demanding and desperate, so close to letting the tears fall- Yet all Miranda does is turn her back to the younger blonde with no interest in the conversation. The Headmistress reaches for the door and Bela lurches forward, rushing with the desperation to have her question answered when her missteps and her shoe slips on a fallen shard. She hits the ground before she knows exactly what has happened and she's about to pull herself up when a softer set of steps enter the apartment. Familiar shoes stop at the threshold, and Bela can't bring her eyes to look up- Look at the face of someone she trusted.

She never registers how the blaring sirens are now just outside her apartment's window.

Bela's mind is oddly calm for a moment that feels like an eternity while she tries to pull herself together to meet your gaze. Her time is cut short when two other pairs of shoes suddenly appear in the doorway and suddenly Bela is looking up- Screaming.

The woman you have grown to trust scrambles back, her eyes fleeting between the two responders who waste no time in taking her arms. She fights against them, screaming and kicking and swinging as best as she can with both her arms taken hold of- There is a part of you that holds unwavering respect for her still. She fights and fights and fights. Bela's resolve remains stubborn and unbroken to the very end regardless of her mind's state.

One of the responders jam a needle into the side of her neck and at the same time something inside of you withdraws, like a child curling up in a corner with its hands on its ears. It feels wrong to see Bela be subdued, she's meant to stand tall- Stand proud- To strike down any and all obstacles that dare to stand in the way between her and her goal.

The hazy image of a statue of a knight bleeds into your brain-

You scrunch your eyebrows and before you can even begin to wonder what that was- It is gone and all you can do is meet Bela's eyes from across the room. She hangs limp in the respondents' arms yet somehow she's still awake, with the distance between you and the three of them you are surprised when you hear her whispered words with perfect clarity as if she was in your arms instead of theirs.

In your arms- Bela's laying in the courtyard outside The Headmistress' office building in your arms and you're screaming for help.

"I'm not insane. Please believe me."

Your head spins and your stomach is in knots. You open your mouth, and nothing comes out. The responders drag her off, and Bela's eyes never leaves yours-

She's angry, desperate, begging- And it feels so wrong. Bela's not supposed to be this unkempt, she's not supposed to be dragged off.

Bela's supposed to wake up in her room in her family's mansion with you waiting by her bedside-

"Please! Let me go, I'm not insane!"

You're shaken out of your daze, and the last thing you see of Bela is her eyes. Her gaze is boring into yours as she wordlessly pleads, fighting against the call of sleep with all the fading strength she can muster while they secure her in a straightjacket before the ambulance door is harshly shut.

A hand finds its on your shoulder and as gentle as the motion is- The touch is sickening nonetheless. Your body wants to recoil and throw the hand off, yet you're reduced to nothing but a motionless body with your feet glued to the pavement and your hands feeling like lead.

Headmistress Miranda's voice is low and apologetic while she offers you something. You don't know what she offered but your stomach lurches after she has voiced the proposition and all you can bring yourself to say is that you do not know.

-------------------------------------------------------

Bela counts. Lying on her back as she stares at the wrist watch that her mother had sent her as a gift a long time ago. "Get well soon." she imagined was the sentiment. Alcina remembered that she likes to keep track of time, or so she chooses to believe. Why else would her mother send her this?

23:50

It's funny how in all her years she had neber once bothered to memorize which 12 hour time equates to the other twelve hours on a 24 hour format. She shakes her head after the chuckle falls out of her lips.

"Whoever thought that a Grippy Sock vacation would manage to be educational.." she says to herself.

The smile falls from her lips as an annoying sensation crawls up her skin. She shuffles in her place, having learnt months ago that she cannot even undo a single clasp on her uniform without the assistance of a staff in the institution.

She presses her elbow against a spot on her rib, wiggling in irritation until the itch dissipates. She sighs in relief before retuning to her original position, letting her thoughts wonder to you.

Did you take her spot on the council? God, Bela hopes not. Yet she believes that you'd do an amazing job if you did decide to take over for her.

Have you graduated already? She hopes so as she thinks to herself that the sooner you're out of that hell hole, the better it is for you.

23:58

Bela hopes that Miranda has somehow poked her own eye with those gaudy finger guards that she wears. She also hopes with extreme pettiness that Cornelius has not gone a day without running into a window.

She wonders if Anteros is doing okay, he's with Daniela now but she wonders if he misses her. She sure has missed the dog she raised from puppyhood.

23:59

Bela turn to her side, hoping that you're okay. She still doesn't have her heart, but she finds it in herself to hold onto hope that she'll be out of this dreadfully decorated institution soon.

Bela spares another glance at her watch-

The time is still 23:59.

She hopes that someday when she's free you'll run into each other. She ignores the part of her that speaks of how Miranda probably intends to keep her here forever.

Bela closes her eyes and prays to whatever will listen that you and her family are okay. She slips from consciousness, remembering that you never got to meet Anteros when everything was still as okay as they could be.

Bela dreams of you with her and Anteros in the local dog part, Daniela and Cassandra tossing a frisbee between them as the German Shepherd trues to snatch it out of the air again and again.

05:30

Bela wakes up to a blaring alarm, her body clock tells her that something's up. She opens her eyes, and to her surprise- It is sunlight that greets her and not white padded walls.

Tears burn her eyes and a laugh escapes her as she glances at the calendar on her dresser.

"Club Fair day."

She takes a moment to breathe, to sit and remember how it felt to simply be in her own bed.

Bela jumps off the bed, running over to her ckoset drawer with newfound hope burning in her veins and in her chest. She smiles excitedly, she really wasn't insane at all.

"Third times' the charm." She says to herself as she leaves the apartment with a bright smile on her face and a liveliness in her step. She barely remembers to tone it down before getting inside the Campus grounds.

Miranda has eyes everywhere and she's supposed to be heartless. Bela schools her expressions and walks in with her head held high.

"Time for a new game plan."

-------------------------------------------------------

You trip over your own feel, reaching out a hand only to end up taking the whole tablecloth down with you.

The Goddess stares at you with mild disgust, but she quickly reaches a hand out towards you.

"Are you alright?"

"I just fell for you."

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you realize that you've said that out loud. The Goddess raises an eyebrow at you, and you thank your lucky stars that she decides to let your throwaway comment slide.

"We're the Student Council Club. Would you like to join?"

-----------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶----------------------

01-11 thinks that someday, a non-angsty Bela Dimitrescu work will find a place in the Masterlist. For now, 01-11 is having too much fun.

P.S: 01-11 thanks you for reading.

#Resident Lover #resident lover miranda #resident lover bela #Resident lover mc #resident lover bela dimitrescu #Resident Lover mother miranda #Resident Lover Bela Dimitrescu x Reader #Resident Lover Bela Dimitrescu x MC #Bela Dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x mc #bela dimitrescu #Mother miranda #reader!insert

[urlocalmilfloverr]

・Mother Miranda・Touch me

Summary ~ She accidentally snaps at you and well... Makes it up to you kind of

Warnings ~ Smut

Read more on ~ Wattpad or Ao3

~~~

Miranda was working on her latest project in her lab and she specifically asked you not to interrupt her while working. Ever. So why were you about to walk into the forbidden terrain

Miranda stopped and jerked her head at the sound of quiet footsteps

"Donna? Alcina?" her voice was desperate - she was hoping it wasn't you "Darling, if that's you I'm going to be extremely disappointed"

"I'm sorry" you look down as you came into the light "It's just boring without you around" you frown

"What have I told you about coming down here?" she turned - her full attention on you "I can't be dealing with your stupidly clingy self today! I come down here to get away from you and here-" she stopped herself, the look of betrayal on your face made her heart break "My love I..."

"Don't worry" you gave a sad smile "I understand. I'll be upstairs if you need me" you left as fast as you could not wanting her to see the tears that had escaped your eyes

You awoke to the memory of last night - the ache in your heart made you want to just lie there and sulk but you shook it off and jumped off of the sofa, grabbing the nearest shirt, which happened to be Miranda's, and made your way to the kitchen

To your surprise, Miranda was already awake making herself some breakfast. She looked so effortlessly gorgeous in the morning sunlight

Stop

You internally slapped yourself out of your trance and did anything to take your mind off of the priestess

"Sweetheart I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said last night"

"It's whatever" your voice held a sarcastic undertone - making her glare into the back of your head

"Just listen to me"

"No, I don't think I want to" you looked at her and rolled your eyes

"I swear to the heavens Y/n" you moved away from her to leave the kitchen but she stopped you with her magic "Why are you wearing my fucking clothes?" but all you did was shrug - your anger evident in your features "Stop being difficult and get your ass back in here" she yelled. She took a hold of your wrist and dragged you to one of the counter tops "Sit" you obeyed "are you going to listen to me?"

"Depends"

"Oh you will my love" she laughed

"What makes you say that?"

"Because darling" she paused to send kisses up your neck "you won't get to cum" you frowned and tried to get even closer to her "take the shirt off. Now" the command made you shudder and obey immediately. Your breasts bounced as the shirt came over your head "good girl" her hands lightly caressed your hips while nibbling at the flesh of your neck - her hands stopped to pull you closer to her, the aggressiveness of her actions sending you over the edge "do you want me to continue my love?" she asked seriously

"Yes mommy" you gasped as her fingers hovered above your clothed pussy

"Tell me what you want" her nails scraped your inner thighs; your gasps making her leave marks

"I want you to touch me" the sentence came out as a whisper, your face heating up from frustration

"What was that darling?" she smirked

"Please" she swirled hard circles around your clothed bundle of nerves; her mouth sucked harshly against your neck. Her pace quickened making that knot in your stomach form

"Oh fuck Miranda" your head fell back "Miranda I-"

"I know sweetheart, I know" her pace got even faster - your hand gripping her forearm for support

"Please can I cum Mistress please" you moaned at her skilful actions

"Hmm~" she chucked "no" she pulled her fingers away and held your arms above your head

"Why?" you whined

"I still have stuff to do" she kissed your cheek "I'll see you tonight" she let you go and helped you off the counter "and don't even think about touching yourself while I'm working"

"Okay..."

"I'll deal with you when I'm done"

#resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil 8 #re8 #re8 village #mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #fem reader #fanfic writing #wattpad #ao3 #wlw

[ladykailitha]

Star Child Part 13

I told you I wouldn’t leave you hanging. In fact, I made sure I had the resolution to the cliffhanger WRITTEN before posting the last chapter. So here we go! Also a hint at future Buckingham...;)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12  

***

Tears ran down Eddie’s face. “You think that killing him will bind me to you?”

Creel smiled and touched his cheek softly. “Because if you don’t, you’ll be arrested for the murder Steve Harrington. One word from me and they’ll plant evidence that you killed him.”

“You can take my body,” Eddie said. “But you can’t have my heart or my soul. Steve had both. The band, too. My uncle. That’s what real love looks like. Something you’ll never understand. Everyone is below you and you think you can own every little thing. But you can’t. You’ll never own me.”

“We’ll see,” Creel said leaning closer to kiss him.

Suddenly the all the doors in the hotel room burst open, revealing the FBI and Hellfire Security all with guns drawn. Max and Lucas stood in front of a very much alive Steve Harrington.

Creel whipped around and then looked back at Eddie. “How?!”

Eddie took a step back with a grin. He flipped up his leather jacket’s lapel to reveal a wireless mic. “We knew you’d sweep the room. We also thought that you would search us, but you didn’t do that.”

“We knew you liked brute force,” Steve said from behind his security. “So we knew that you would try to kill me. If you had tried in the bathroom, it might have actually worked because it was harder to get agents in there after you swept the hotel suite. But you went cliche. So thanks for that.”

“What was the gun shot?” Eddie asked, his voice cracking.

Max’s lip curled in distaste. “Pollock over here went for his gun and I had to shoot at his foot as warning.”

Eddie looked down and sure enough one of the goons had a bleeding foot. He looked back up at Steve. “I thought I had lost you, babe.”

Creel grunted from the handcuffs being put on him and said, “You think you’ve won, but this isn’t the last you’ll see of me.”

“Oh it certainly is,” Steve said. “We have you for conspiracy to commit murder, blackmail, and breaking and entering. And that’s just for this conversation. That’s not including the case these boys have been building for years.”

“How did someone like you beat me?” Creel snarled.

“Everyone thinks I’m just a pretty face,” Steve said with a smile. “It makes people underestimate me. A lot.”

Creel struggled to lunge at Steve in anger, but the two agents that held him, kept him in place.

The agents started listing off Creel’s Miranda rights as they led him away. More agents led Castor and Pollock away.

A beat.

Eddie launched himself at Steve and it took every ounce of strength to keep them both on their feet.

“I’m sorry, sunshine,” Steve murmured over and over as he rubbed circles into Eddie’s back. “I’m so sorry. But it worked, baby. We’re safe. We’ll never have to look over our shoulders ever again. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe.”

Max turned to Lucas. “Fine. I’ll marry you.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped. “Wait, are you serious?”

Max rolled her eyes. “Yes. I was watching them and was insanely jealous, wanting what they had for all of two seconds before I realized that I did. With you. So yes, I’ll marry you.”

Lucas let out a breathless laugh and the picked her up, spinning her around. He kiss her soundly and then let her down slowly.

Janice shook her head fondly. “All right, you lovebirds. Let’s get Eddie and Steve to his room. And we’ll reconvene with the band there.”

They all nodded.

Janice led the way with Eddie and Steve in the middle and Lucas and Max bringing up the rear. Eddie and Steve’s hands were clasped tightly together as they made their way through the halls of the hotel to Steve’s room. Janice keyed in her security badge and opened the door to a concerned Corroded Coffin.

“Everyone okay?” Jeff asked, leaping to his feet.

Gareth and Brian were on their feet in moments, too. Suddenly Eddie and Steve were getting dog piled by the band as they all sobbed in relief.

Janice called up her team in LA. “Marty, Vince how goes the lovely ladies?”

Vince, a rather large Pacific Islander who answered her video call, smiled. “They’re doing fine. Right now they’re painting each other’s nails.” He turned the screen so she could see the two women on Steve’s sofa painting each other’s nails.

“Miss Cunningham, Miss Buckley,” he called out behind him. “Janice is on the line, come on over.”

Both women were on their feet in an instant.

“Is Steve okay?”

“How about the boys, are they okay, too?” Chrissy asked as they both tried to crowd Vince out of the frame of the video.

“Everyone is fine,” Janice assured them. “Well, except one goon. He has a newly minted hole in his foot for pissing Max off. But other than that, not so much as a single scratch on the clients.”

Everyone in LA let out a sigh of relief.

“Can we see them?” Robin asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

Janice smiled and turned the phone to show all five men laughing and crying.

“Dingus!” Robin called.

Steve startled at her voice. “Robs?” He made his way over to Janice and peered into her phone. “Robin!”

Robin waved. “I made a new friend!” She waved her hands at Chrissy.

Steve waved back. “Don’t worry, Chrissy. I took good care of your boys. They’re safe and sound.”

Chrissy giggled. “Good job. You treat Eddie right, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Steve said. He took the phone from Janice, who squawked at its removal from her possession.

He ignored her as he brought the phone to where all four Corroded Coffin members were huddled together.

“See?” Steve said as leaned back into Eddie so Chrissy could see all five of them. “I kept them safe,” he whispered.

Chrissy teared up. “You did so good, Stevie. You did good.”

Janice walked over to them. “I have a private plane on standby. So tomorrow morning, we’ll swap Steve for Chrissy. Chrissy, you’ll meet them in Vegas for their next show. And Steve you have to be back for meeting with the record label. Erica called this morning excited about how well your coming out did for her case.”

Every murmured their agreements.

“Good,” Janice said. “I think the boys have a couple of hours before the sound check and will want to be left alone.”

Eddie and Steve blushed while everyone else gave confused noises.

Jeff rolled his eyes when he finally got it. “Don’t fuck too loud, I’m in the room next to yours.”

Eddie and Steve hid in each others shoulders from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

Robin’s mouth formed a soundless, “Oh.”

And suddenly everyone was finding places they had to be. Janice hung with the LA crew and turned to remaining four.

“Max and Lucas will still have to remain outside your door,” Janice reminded them. “So for their sake and Jeff’s, please keep it down.” She waggled her eyebrows at them suggestively.

Steve was mortified and Eddie was subdued. The three security guards exited the room, leaving the two men behind.

Eddie looked around the room to avoid having to look Steve in the eye after that embarrassing display.

“Not a bad room, Stevie,” Eddie said. “Not what I would have chosen, but it’s nice.”

Steve scratched his cheek ruefully. “I don’t usually go for this nice, if I’m honest. I’m too used to the label and my parents bugging it to make sure I didn’t step out of line. I would book a place like this and then go stay a Motel 6 or something.”

Eddie’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, babe. But I’m sure Janice made sure the room was clean before she let you stay here.”

Steve nodded. He had even watched her, but there was still a part of his mind that worried.

“Come here, darlin’,” Eddie cooed, holding out his arms. “We don’t have to do anything right now. Because I don’t think I want to do anything right now but hold you until it’s time for the sound check.”

Steve slumped into his arms as if he was a puppet whose strings had been cut.

They made it to the bed and tumbled into it. They lay there in each other’s arms until it was time for the concert.

*

Steve paused in front of his suitcase. He could wear his usual disguise that he wore to Corroded Coffin concerts, or he could go out and be himself for once.

He chewed his lip nervously before deciding on half of a “disguise”. He pulled out the skin-tight leather pants and chunky boots. He put on a band t-shirt that had the sleeves cut off and the sides hollowed out so that you could see his ribs when he lifted his arms.

He ditched the hat that hid his signature hair and the dark sunglasses. He stepped out of his room with a leather jacket in his hand. He smiled at a passing maid and hopped into the elevator, Max and Lucas trailing behind.

“Is this how you’ve been going their concerts dressed as?” Lucas asked as the elevator took them to the lobby.

Steve nodded. “I cover my hair and keep my head down, and no one has spotted me once.”

Max laughed. “I bet someone did but couldn’t believe pop star Steve Harrington would even like metal so it couldn’t be you.”

Steve grinned. “I’m about to blow my disguise though.”

Lucas laughed. “Yeah, but people think you’re dating Eddie Munson and expect you to be there tonight.”

“And I can’t wait,” Steve said with a wink.

***

Part 14 Part 15  Part 16

@bejeweledbaby @eboyawstenn @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @goodolefashionedloverboi @linkydinky06 @livelaughlexa @spectrum-spectre @cutepumpkin4 @whatthemeepever @gleek4twd @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @novelnovella @celtrose-ish @artiststarme @plasticcrotches  @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @anaibis @nelotegreitic @steddieassheg0es @abstractnaturaldisaster @scheodingers-muppet @tiny-enthusiast @yes-im-your-mom @thegingerrapunzel @milf-harrington @avacrebs @gregre369 @raisedbylibrarians @reverseteehee @lillys-weird-world @deadlydodos @runyousillydetective @justrandomfandomstm @piebook67 @clumsywriter @donttouchmycarrots @fiore-della-valle @idkareallyreallygoodname  @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @imfinereallyy @ravenpainter @ellietheasexylibrarian @maya-custodios-dionach @child-of-cthulhu @estrellami-1 @lillithhellfire @nerdsconquerall @space-invading-pigeon @localgaydisaster @bookbinderbitch

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #rockstar au #song fic #ladykailtiha writes

[liaromancewriter]

May I Have This Dance?

Premise: Is there anything more romantic than slow dancing in the kitchen on a do-nothing day?

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,175

A/N: For narrative purposes, this is set on the same day as Sleeping Beauty. Submission for @choicesprompts Flufftober prompt "Can I have this dance?" I'm also using @choicesflashfics week 54, prompt 1

Ethan Ramsey stared at the announcement for this year’s homecoming dance tacked onto the noticeboard in the hallway. His hands itched to snatch a flyer to peruse later, but he kept them tightly fisted to his sides.

There was a reason he’d ditched the whole thing last year, he reminded himself morosely.

He couldn’t dance and wasn’t about to embarrass himself in front of the entire school. Plus, there was the whole awkwardness of asking a girl out. They tended to travel in packs, and getting one alone long enough to ask her without her friends staring and giggling nearby was as impossible as travel to Mars.

It was a pipe dream, he thought in dismay but unable to unglue his feet. He wasn’t in a position to go, and that was that. Besides, who decided that participating in homecoming dances and proms was a right of passage for high schoolers?

Hollywood, that’s who. Twentysomething actors playing high school students didn’t make it all so. It was a fallacy, as most things in life were.

“Wow, you look fierce. Did you have a fight with someone?”

Ethan glanced sideways at the concerned voice of his neighbor and friend, Miranda Clarke. He inwardly grimaced at being caught boring a hole into the noticeboard.

She’d been the nerdy girl with braces and pigtails all through elementary and middle school. At the start of freshman year, he did a double take when she greeted him at the bus stop, no braces in sight, her blonde hair in a waterfall behind her and a pretty headband sparkling under the sun.

Miranda might look different now, but she was still one of the smartest and nicest people he knew. She also understood what it was like to be abandoned by a parent, or both parents in her case.

“Not a fight,” he said, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard by others, and inadvertently eyed the flyer.

“Ah,” she said, following his gaze. “I didn’t think school dances were your thing.”

“They’re not,” he muttered, feeling the redness splash across his cheeks.

Miranda’s eyes softened in sympathy, and he felt sorry for lying to his friend.

“It’s okay to change your mind, Ethan,” she said, lightly touching his arm. “No one’s going to care if you attend a dance one year and skip it altogether another. This isn’t about what anyone else wants, just you.”

“I know that,” he protested, stopping himself from rolling his eyes. Miranda had a habit of lecturing him when he was being cagey.

He straightened away from the wall and shrugged, adopting an air of indifference. “It’s moot anyway since I can’t dance.”

“Can’t?” Miranda placed a hand on his elbow to stop him as he turned to go. “Or don’t know how?”

Ethan sighed, his lips parting to deliver a well-versed white lie. But this was Miranda, and they’d known each other all their lives. She’d just hound him on the way home until he told her the truth.

“Don’t know how,” he admitted reluctantly. “I can’t exactly ask my dad to teach me, can I? He has enough to worry about.”

“You could ask me,” she suggested.

Ethan watched her warily. “You’d be willing to do that?”

She laughed. “Of course! That’s what friends do.”

Suddenly, her face turned serious, and she stared at a spot behind him, a light red staining her cheekbones. “Maybe after, you could ask me to homecoming? Only if you want to,” she added quickly when he froze like a deer in headlights.

“I would like that,” he said quietly, thinking about it for all of five seconds.

The bell rang for the next period, and he cleared the gruffness in his throat, raising his voice above the noise. “Thanks, Miranda. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Ethan,” Miranda smiled. “If you’re not working today, we can have the first lesson after school. Around four, your house?”

Dance lessons and a date to homecoming, he marveled as they parted ways to head to class. The year was suddenly looking much brighter.

Twentysomething years later…

“I want to spend the day with you doing nothing. And by nothing, I mean…”

Ethan grinned as Cassie Valentine leaned on the kitchen island and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

It was the first Sunday since his return from Brazil and Cassie’s first official sleepover. There hadn’t been time for that before he left a couple of months ago. But now that they’d decided to give this relationship a real chance, they wanted their private moments to be less stolen and more intentional.

“In case you haven’t noticed, the day is half over,” he said, pretending disinterest as he rinsed a skillet and stacked it in the dishwasher with the rest of the dishes from a late brunch. “If only you’d woken up earlier, we could have had so much fun.”

“Sunday mornings are made for sleeping in,” Cassie’s brows knitted in exasperation. “Especially after the week I had. And I thought intern year was bad.”

“You’ll adjust,” he commented unconcerned, pressing a button to start the dishwasher’s cycle before grabbing a cloth to wipe down the counter.

“What?” he demanded when he looked up to see Cassie watching him with amusement in her eyes.

“Nothing,” she said, coming around the kitchen island to stand before him. She glanced at the wipe cloth in his hand. “I had no idea you were so domesticated, Dr. Ramsey.”

He smirked, caging her in his arms. “I’m a man of many talents, Dr. Valentine.”

The sun was high in the sky, the glare of its rays bouncing off the treated glass. Soft music drifted from a Bluetooth speaker in the corner, casting a magical spell over the kitchen and its occupants and lending an air of romance.

“But can you dance?” Cassie whispered, caressing the nape of his neck with her fingertips.

“What brought this on?” Ethan arched one brow in curiosity.

“Since we’re getting to know each other,” she pulled his head down, “you should know that I love to dance, especially slow dancing in the moonlight.” Her green eyes sparkled, and her lips curved into a soft, dreamy smile. “Or in a sun-dappled kitchen on a lazy Sunday afternoon.”

The music changed to something slow and romantic, and Ethan found his lips hovering above hers, heart pounding with potent anticipation.

“So? Can you?” she murmured.

“Yes.”

Cassie closed the distance between them, gently pressing her lips against his, and he fell into the moment.

“May I have this dance, Cassie?” Ethan asked, sliding his hand into hers.

“I would love to, Ethan.”

He placed one hand on her waist, splayed his fingers and tugged her close. Cassie rested her hand on his shoulder, and he led her into a slow dance, their bodies swaying to the rhythm.

He followed the moves he’d learned all those years ago, dancing in the living room with Miranda. And when Cassie laughed as he dipped her low, Ethan sent a silent thanks to his friend for giving him this.

-------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey @youlookappropriate

#open heart #ethan ramsey #open heart choices #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fanfics #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

[vendetta-if]

Snippets and Sneak Peek (Chapter 6) Pt. 2

Hey guys 👋 Time for the second and last sneak peek at Chapter 6 Part 1 before the update. And just as a reminder, the Chapter 6 Part 1 update will drop on 22nd of April (GMT +8), which is around 22 hours or so from now (the time I posted this) 😁

So, I kinda mentioned how MC will hear again about what they did when they helped the mother and the kid in the alleyway. I'll show the news segment here and it'll vary in parts based on the options you chose.

For the sake of this sneak peek, we're going to assume that MC killed the guy with gravikinesis and that MC wears their mask but tells the kid their code name 😄 Oh, and also that MC is interested in becoming Vigilante first or only interested in becoming Vigilante.

Chapter 6 Part 1 Early Access demo is now up on both Patreon and Ko-fi!

* * * * *

The conversation tapers off and you reach forward to turn up the radio a bit to fill in the silence, just in time to catch the tail-end of the song that has been playing. A news jingle immediately follows it.

"Good afternoon, citizens of Elysium City! I hope all of you are having a wonderful day because today, we have some news fresh from the oven and no, it's not about the Superheroes or the Nemesis Project this time.

"Last night, the ECPD was met with another gruesome crime scene in the Lower South Acheron District after what seems to be an act of vigilante-ism was taken too far. The criminal killed was suspected to be the same one who had been terrorizing the area for months now.

"Right now in the studio, we have two direct eyewitnesses—well, no, they actually almost became the victims of this criminal last night. May I present to you, Miranda Martínez, a staff here in the Voice of Elysians radio station, and her ${mc_son}, Jules Martínez."

"Hey, Camille."

"So, Miranda, can you tell us a bit about what happened last night?"

"Uh, yeah. So, it was pretty late last night, and we were walking home. I was starting to regret my decision to not take a taxi instead, but we were getting pretty close to our apartment by that time, so I took ${mc_his} hand in mine and we basically power-walked to try to get home as fast as possible.

"But when we were only two blocks away, a man stopped us and pulled us into one of the alleyways. I was so scared, but I tried talking to him, to negotiate. He said he wanted everything I owned, so I handed him my purse; I didn't want to risk both Jules' life and mine. But still, he won't let us go. I'm still not sure what else he could've wanted—"

"And then I tried attacking the man so he would let go of Mama! But I was too small and he easily beat me… He threatened to burn my face, but I was not scared!"

It was undoubtedly the little kid you saved last night and they still sound as excitable as they were last night.

They continue, "It was then, ${mc_he} came to save us! $!{mc_he} came out of the darkness and then—and then, I don't know how, but ${mc_he} threw the bad guy to a wall without even touching him and then, a few seconds later, the bad guy's head popped like a balloon!"

"Jules—!" $!{mc_his} mother tries to scold ${mc_him} but is cut off by the host.

"Oh! Can you tell us more about this mysterious vigilante? Do you see what ${mc_he} looks like?"

"Yeah! $!{mc_he} told me ${mc_he} goes by the codename "$!{codename}"! Which is really cool!"

"How about ${mc_his} appearance? Did you catch anything?"

"No… $!{mc_he} was wearing a mask so we couldn't see ${mc_his} face at all. But the mask was very cool! It was like, pure black and it looked kinda alive!"

"Aww, that's too bad, but at least we know what to call our vigilante: "$!{codename}", which I'm pretty sure I haven't heard before, so watch out criminals and villains, because there is a new vigilante on the block and ${mc_he} @{mc_plural don't|doesn't} seem to be the type to play around. How about you, Miranda? Do you have anything else to add?"

"Nothing, really. Like Jules said, the vigilante was wearing a mask and we couldn't discern anything about ${mc_his} physical appearance. But, from what I've seen of the ability ${mc_he} used, ${mc_he} is probably a really powerful telekinetic."

"Really interesting… Well, how do you feel about ${mc_him} killing someone in front of you and your ${mc_son}? It must've been a traumatizing experience."

"Oh, yeah, yeah… It was really gruesome and I was just frozen in place in fear. I thought ${mc_he} was going to hurt me and Jules next, but ${mc_he} didn't. $!{mc_he} handed me my purse back and even gave us four hundred bucks to treat Jules' wounds…

"I wouldn't lie, I probably won't be able to scrub the image from my mind for the rest of my life, but in the end, I am really grateful to ${mc_him} for saving me and my ${mc_son}. Who knows what would've happened if ${mc_he} wasn't there to intervene. And the money ${mc_he} gave… It was such a blessing. It really covered the bill to get Jules treated."

"Yeah!" Little Jules chirps in again. "Thank you so much, $!{title} $!{codename}! You're my true hero and I wanna be like you when I grow up!"

You really try to keep your face straight, but a slight smile still tugs on your lips against your will after listening to the interview and the adorable thank you from Little Jules. To know that you have saved people from what could've been a disastrous life-changing event and helped them directly… It surprises you a bit on how good it feels.

You're really lucky to be able to catch a glimpse of what your future as a vigilante would be like and how it would make you feel, and you know you're making the right choice. This experience just makes you even more determined to become a vigilante, spending the nights patrolling the streets, saving innocent civilians, and protecting them from the criminals and villains infesting the city.

#writing updates #sneak peek #chapter 6 #if: vendetta #vendetta if #if vendetta #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript #choice of games #hosted games #cyoa #cyoa game #interactive fiction #interactive games #interactive story #interactive novel

[daydream-cement]

Sparring Practice

Brienne of Tarth x Miranda Hilmarson

Miranda wants Brienne to teach her to sword fight- angst, fluff, and some suggestive theming ensues.

Author's Note: Written in collaboration with @bri-sonat. This may be one of my favorite Bri and Mir fics thus far :))

The constable stared down at Oathkeeper and quickly glanced up towards the kitchen where Brienne was out of sight cooking dinner. With a smile, Miranda assumed the knight was busy enough with her culinary pursuits that she could touch the sword without an earful of safety tips. Squatting down next to Oathkeeper, her fingers drifted over the flat side of the blade, mesmerized by how the metal gleamed. Maybe I should have Brienne teach me how to sword fight… That could be fun, Miranda thought to herself.

Stirring the sauce in the kitchen, Brienne turned her head to look for her girlfriend, the giddy Aussie seemingly disappearing into thin air. “Mir?” The knight glanced around the kitchen and out the doorway that showed the living room, not seeing the familiar head of the constable anywhere. “Hey, Mir, can you come and taste this?”

Upon hearing her girlfriend’s voice, Miranda broke eye contact with the shining sword, shouting back before bustling back to the kitchen where she was needed, “Sure thing!” Ducking from Brienne’s room back through the living room and into the kitchen, Miranda’s head bobbed happily at the sight of Brienne, “Whatcha need?”

Brienne scooped some of the sauce up on a teaspoon and turned around to face her girlfriend, spoon in one hand, the other underneath the metal to make sure nothing dripped on the floor. “Taste this, please. Where did you run off to?”

“Just meandering...” Miranda answered quickly before tentatively taking the spoon into her mouth, unsure of the sauce's temperature. As always, the flavor was perfect and the constable gave Brienne a thumbs up as she swallowed, “Fantastic as always.” The Aussie knew she had been caught in her wandering off, so she then stayed at her knight’s side, leaning against the countertop, eyes glancing about the room.

“Mmm, okay…” Brienne tossed the used teaspoon in the sink before turning back to the stove, turning off the heat as she observed Miranda in her peripheral. The knight found her girlfriend’s behavior to be a little suspicious - small things the Westerosi had learned to identify that told her when the constable was withholding details. And based on the Aussie’s latest interest, she could only draw one conclusion as to why she was acting stand-offish. “Did you visit Oathkeeper again?”

The constable bit her lip and smiled when Brienne knew exactly what she had been up to. There was nothing Miranda loved more than her love being able to see straight through her as if she was looking through a pane of glass. With a smirk and a teasing tone, Miranda gave a shrug as she glanced at her girlfriend, “We like sharing secrets.”

“I’m sure you do.” Brienne poured the pasta into a strainer in the sink, motioning with her head towards the cupboards as she did. “Can you set the table, please?”

“He said and I quote, ‘Tell Bri to teach you how to swordfight.’” The constable spoke casually as she moved about the kitchen, pulling the plates from the cabinet with one hand and finding forks from the drawer with the other. She distributed the dishware and cutlery and moved to find the napkins from their drawer, “And, I think you should.”

“Did he now? I feel like Oathkeeper and I need to have a little chat about putting such ideas into your head…” Brienne mumbled, her hands busying themselves with getting the food ready for serving. “What a surprise that you agree… I won’t teach you. It is far too dangerous.”

Miranda sat back at the kitchen table, her brow furrowing in anger, she couldn’t believe her ears at how ridiculous she found Brienne’s words to be. She wasn’t going to let this issue go anytime soon, “Dangerous? Oh, come on, Bri! I can handle a gun perfectly fine. We can even do fake swords or something! Pretty please? I promise to be careful and I know you won't let me get hurt anyway!” Her tone remained light, hoping Brienne could sense her seriousness through her good-natured arguing. 

“A gun is not a sharp sword, Miranda.” Brienne took two trips from the kitchen and dining table, one to fetch the pasta, and one to fetch the sauce, before she sat down across from her girlfriend. “End of discussion.”

“No. No end of discussion.” Folding her arms across her chest, Miranda glared across the table at her girlfriend, her tone growing more disappointed by the second with her bottom lip sticking out as she began to pout, “Please, Bri. Teach me how. It will be fun. We will get to spend time together and- and- and- I promise to be careful. I’ll do anything, Bri! I’ll do your paperwork for a whole month at work!”

The knight had started putting food on her plate, stopping mid-sauce-pour after Miranda didn’t stop, mildly frustrated at her girlfriend for not letting it go. “I like doing paperwork. You can’t bribe me. My answer is no. Leave it be, please.”

The constable was incredibly frustrated, working herself up to the point that she had no appetite for the meal Brienne had made her. Miranda then went completely silent, not moving to fix herself a plate, remaining content with her folded arms and downcast gaze. Deep down she knew her behavior was akin to that of a child throwing a tantrum, but it wasn’t often Brienne was able to continuously say no to her which made Miranda unable to shake the issue.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment just because I’m trying to look out for you and your safety. Eat… please.” Brienne ran a hand through her hair before resting it on the table, her eyes fixed on her upset girlfriend, her tone gentle to avoid worsening the situation. She knew Miranda to be stubborn, but never like this and it had never caused an argument. 

“I am not a child and I’m not hungry.” Miranda’s response was short with a twinge of venom so Brienne knew just how upset she was, only cementing herself further into her adamant opinion that Brienne should teach her to swordfight. 

The knight released a sigh, she didn’t know what to do. The obvious option was to give in to her girlfriend’s wishes, but in this particular subject, Brienne couldn’t let herself be so easily compliant. “Okay…” The Westerosi woman entwined her fingers and laid her hands on the table, leaning slightly forward in her chair, her tone soft and voice quiet. “Okay. Do you want to talk about this? Let’s talk.”

“You just told me to leave it be, but certainly, we can talk about it. I don’t need to be protected all the time. I don’t understand why you won’t teach me how to fight. Do you believe I will just impale myself if I touch a sword or what?” Miranda’s argumentative tone hadn't left her quite yet. She was hurting her own feelings through the assumptions she was making about Brienne and her motivations for being so protective. 

“I would like for you to leave it be, but, we can’t stay like this. You know it. I know it.” Brienne kept her tone sturdy and soft as she spoke to her girlfriend. This was the first fight they had ever had, and the knight was unsure of how to approach it, so she settled with being gentle and cautious, not wanting to upset Miranda even more. She knew she had to assure the constable that her worries were unfounded, so she voiced her concerns. “No. I worry that I’ll hurt you… I underestimate my own strength a lot. It isn’t you that I don’t trust… it’s me.”

“Well even if you did hurt me, and this may come as a shock to you, I’m not some damsel in distress, so I’ll be okay.” The Aussie woman was relentless in her argument, not truly processing her girlfriend’s reasoning, her eyes narrowing at her girlfriend in complete defiance. Later she would feel incredibly guilty for treating Brienne like this, but for now, she allowed her emotions to get the best of her. “Also, you told me before that you taught Podrick to fight, so why won’t you teach me? I- You know what… It's fine. It’s perfectly fine.” Miranda gestured her hands about angrily and pushed her chair back to stand, deciding to ‘drop’ the issue by walking away for a bit to calm down. As she marched from the front door of the apartment, Miranda made sure to grab her jacket and slam the door behind herself.

“Podrick was my squire, it was my-” The closing of the apartment door stopped Brienne’s explanation, knowing Miranda wasn’t there to hear it anyways. The knight was frozen in place in her seat by the dinner table, completely confused about what just had happened. This had never happened before and the Lord Commander didn’t know what to do. She wanted to give her girlfriend the space she deserved to calm down, but at the same time, she didn’t know if that was what the constable would want her to do. She instead sat still in her seat, her hands clasped on the table, and waited for her partner to return, as if she could do something else in the foreign situation she had found herself in.

Miranda plopped herself down on the stairs leading up to Brienne’s apartment, allowing herself a deep breath, filling her lungs with the night air. Her anger still bubbled at the surface, leading the Constable to mutter unintelligibly to herself. It was incomprehensible for her that Brienne could be so stubborn about not wanting to teach her to sword fight. Seeking to ease the rising stress that surged through Miranda’s body, she pulled her carton of cigarettes and a lighter from her jacket pocket. She had a cigarette between her fore and middle fingers in a flash, lighting it quickly before taking a long drag. Staring off into the street, Miranda was hit with a sudden wave of clarity, she had overreacted in more ways than one, “Shit.”

Brienne glanced down at her wristwatch, it had been about ten minutes since Miranda had left the apartment and the knight knew that her girlfriend would probably be hungry when she returned, so the Lord Commander stood to get the lids for the sauce and something to cover the pasta, so they would both be moderately warm when the constable returned - in the worst case, she’d just have to reheat it. When everything was covered she sat back down in her chair and cast an eye down on her watch again, slightly concerned and worried as it approached fifteen minutes since her partner’s storming off.

Miranda knew she had been incredibly irrational, but now she continued to sit outside out of pure stubbornness. Glancing upwards, she could see a shadow moving about in Brienne’s apartment for a moment before disappearing. Cigarette long gone, the constable leaned back against the concrete staircase, elbows propping herself up as her legs stretched out before herself. She was still stuck ruminating on how Brienne wouldn’t trust herself in training her. If there was one person Miranda trusted in all ways, it was her knight.

After twenty minutes of radio silence, Brienne pondered going out in search of Miranda. If she knew her girlfriend correctly, she was probably sitting somewhere, smoking, like she always did in stressful situations; meaning she wouldn’t have gone far, meaning, the knight would be able to find her quite easily.

The Lord Commander released a sigh before standing up from her seat by the dinner table and moving to the entry hall. She grabbed her jacket from the coat hanger before opening the apartment door, fully prepared to go look for her constable. Yet the second she stepped outside her apartment, she retracted back inside, realizing the Aussie might find her smothering or overprotective if she went out to find her.

The Westerosi woman thought back to her partner’s earlier words, the comments she made on not having to be protected all the time and not being a ‘damsel in distress’ almost pushing Brienne back into her apartment and back to the chair by the table, her jacket back on its coat hanger by the closed door.

The constable wasn’t sure how long she had been loitering out front of Brienne’s apartment, but she was sure that she was now ready to revisit the argument from earlier. Picking herself off the ground, Miranda draped the jacket over her arm and started back up the stairs, giving the front door a soft knock rather than just inviting herself inside.

When the knock finally sounded on the door after thirty-five minutes, Brienne lifted her head from its previous place in her hands. She sat still for a few seconds, unsure if she had imagined it or not, even if she had, checking the door couldn’t hurt. She rose out of her chair in a flash, walked over to her apartment door, and looked out the peephole, relief coursing through her entire body when she saw Miranda on the other side.

In the fragment of a second, the knight opened the door and stepped aside so her girlfriend could enter. She had no idea what to say but regardless of their previous discussion, the Lord Commander knew her partner still needed to eat. “Are you hungry? I’m sure the food is cold by now but I could reheat it if your appetite is back…”

“No… I’m- Brienne, I apologize for what I said… I was out of line and my behavior was unacceptable. I completely understand if you now question your relationship with me and our future due to my behavior…” Miranda kept her gaze over either of Brienne’s shoulders, occasionally glancing at her girlfriend’s face to demonstrate the genuine nature of her words. She was able to keep her tone level for all but the last sentences when her voice cracked and her eyes began to water, “I understand if you don’t want to see me a-again… I can- can go now…”

The knight was quick in closing the apartment door so Miranda couldn’t leave before she had responded. Brienne pulled her girlfriend into a hug, knowing she needed physical assurance if she were to believe the Lord Commander’s words. “Oh. Don’t be silly. I fully accept your apology… and from what I’ve read and understood, healthy couples fight sometimes. Now, are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“Y-yes…” Miranda lied, nodding her head as she wiped her tears on the shoulder of Brienne’s shirt. Her chest heaved under the weight of her strong emotions, each breath shaky as she squeezed the Lord Commander that much tighter, not interested in letting go anytime soon. When she approached the door moments earlier, she had truly prepared herself to hear the worst from Brienne. Her next words were completely inaudible, muffled by her face pressed into Brienne, “I-I love you...”

“Mmm,” Brienne hummed. She had a hard time believing her girlfriend in her words considering she had learned if not one thing during their relationship: Miranda had to eat. “See, I know you’re lying to me. You couldn’t stop snacking so I know you’re hungry. Let’s get something in that stomach of yours.”

“M’kay…” Miranda agreed quickly, finally lifting her head from her girlfriend's chest. She made eye contact with Brienne, her eyes red and much like that of a kicked puppy. 

The knight moved her hands up to rest on Miranda’s face, her thumbs gently swiping at the apples of her girlfriend’s cheeks as she smiled at the constable. “Okay…” Brienne nearly whispered the word, keeping her voice silent to offer comfort to her upset partner. “Would you like for me to reheat the food or would you like something else?”

The constable leaned her head forward, much like she always did when requesting a kiss on the forehead. She was beginning to feel much lighter, the weight of her guilt lightening with Brienne’s gentle and calm behavior. Miranda elevated her tone, wanting to come across as the happy-go-lucky constable Brienne knew her to be, “I’d like what you made, please.” 

The knight complied, leaning in to give her girlfriend a lingering kiss on her forehead. When she retracted her lips from Miranda’s skin, Brienne gave her partner a quick kiss on the lips before speaking. “Then that is what you shall get. Go have a seat, please. Your meal will be served momentarily.”

After giving her knight another quick squeeze, Miranda made her way back to the kitchen table, waiting patiently for Brienne. Once she was served, the Aussie thanked the Lord Commander, offering up a grateful smile before starting in on her meal. 

It wasn’t until both of them were almost finished with dinner that Miranda decided to bring up the fight earlier, hoping to share some of her more rational thoughts with Brienne, “I hope you know… I trust you more than anyone and I know you would never hurt me. You are always my greatest protector. I just- I brought it up because I know it’s something you love… and it’s a skill you take pride in. I guess… I just wanted to be able to share that with you.”

“I would never hurt you on purpose… I just-” Brienne sighed before placing her cutlery on her plate, her eyes closing momentarily before looking across the table at her girlfriend. “I worry about how much I am able to control my strength. It becomes muscle memory after a while… sword fighting that is, or just fighting in general, and using all your strength when doing so, and I am concerned if I would be able to be aware of that to a point where I would be able to avoid injuring you. It is a skill I take great pride in, but just like any skill, you need to hone it and stay consistent for it to remain at the same level or improve, and it has been many months since I used it. Taking that into consideration, I am unsure if I would trust myself to even hold a sword, less swing it at someone who doesn’t know how to use it.”

“Then…” Miranda held onto the ‘n’ sound, dragging it out as she stood from her seat and rounded the table to kneel at Brienne’s side. She rested her hands on the knight’s leg to keep steady, her voice cheerful, just as it had been before the argument ever began, “Seeing as I can’t even lift Oathkeeper the way you can, I can go to the corner store after work. We can start with fake swords and work our way up, hmm?” As Miranda spoke, her hands wandered to find Brienne’s. She lifted both of the Westerosi woman’s hands to her face, kissing the back of the right and then the left, “And I will even compensate you for your time… I’ll- I’ll do your laundry for a whole month.”

“Hmm,” Brienne hummed as she considered Miranda’s suggestion. The knight had to admit that it was an acceptable plan, except for the working their way up part - that she would bring up some other time. “Does this laundry service come with folding as well?”

“Folding and I’ll put it away.” Miranda rubbed her thumbs over the backs of Brienne’s hands, flashing the knight one of her signature wide grins. 

“Very well.” Brienne raised one of her hands and held it out for Miranda to shake. “You have got yourself a deal, Constable Hilmarson. Training starts in two days at six pm sharp. Don’t be late. It won’t give your instructor a very good first impression.”

——-

Miranda lowered the children’s sword once again, giggles erupting from her as Brienne continued to repeat the same phrase. It was incredibly adorable, yet Brienne had no clue why her words were so endearing.

“Parry me, Constable!” Brienne didn’t know how many times she had said it by now. Only that it had gone on long enough for her to change from ‘Mir’ to ‘Constable’ to drive her point across in a more serious way to get the Aussie to, hopefully, listen. They were still going over the basics and Miranda was stubbornly choosing not to obey the knight’s orders. Instead of parrying, the constable decided to continue the previous lesson, the lesson on dodging attacks.

The phrase caused Miranda to bite back a smile, looking away from Brienne to hide the humor she found in the knight’s statement. It was obvious to the Aussie that her girlfriend didn’t quite understand how her words came across, so she retorted quickly, holding up the fake sword with a glint in her eye, “No... you parry me!!” The phrase itself causing the constable to erupt into giggles. 

“You parry me, Constable!” Brienne held the sword firm in her hands, much lighter than she was used to but she made do with it. The knight shifted her foot placement, preparing to attack once again.

Once Miranda was able to catch her breath, she held up her sword once more. The constable couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled or laughed this much, “Oh, BriBri. You are so cute.” 

Brienne shook her head. She was dumbfounded, completely unable to see how she could be perceived as cute in their current activity, or at all, but even more now. “I’ll be approaching now. Mir, if you see me coming in with an attack you have to parry, don’t just dodge, sometimes there’s not enough space for it. Learn to parry!”

“But- but what if I don’t want to...” The constable knew it was wrong to say Brienne’s frustration with her was quite attractive and the little joke she had going was quite fun as well. She did attempt to parry this time, but her movements were representative of her infantile stages as a swordsman: clumsy and imperfect. The Aussie still held a wide grin, asking Brienne the same question once more, “What if... you parry me?” 

“Mir.” Brienne lowered her sword and sighed, the smallest of laughs hiding in it. She returned to her previous position before speaking gently. “I already know how to parry, you have to learn.” After this, she raised her sword again, her feet firmly in place on the ground.

“I’m learning!” Miranda argued back with a wide smile, raising her sword in response. She was now done with her teasing, ready to try her hand at parrying. While it may not have been the best choice, Miranda made the first move, hoping Brienne wouldn’t make her regret it by making this more challenging than it needed to be. The constable was far more distracted than she should have been for sword fighting practice, but it was hard not to admire the focused determination on Brienne’s face as she attempted to teach Miranda.

Miranda’s move came unannounced and suddenly, but with all of Brienne’s years of fighting, her reflexes were quick in countering her girlfriend’s attack. “Learning would include you parrying my attacks and… if I didn’t know any better, I would say that was me parrying you.” 

“Come on, Bri. Gimme a break. I’m trying here.” The constable was quick to defend herself verbally and then followed with her own parry. She jumped at Brienne, trying her best to do just as the knight had done to her. If she wasn’t mistaken, she was doing a halfway decent job at keeping up with Brienne, but she certainly wasn’t skilled enough to go on the offense in any capacity.

“That was a lunge… but it was also a half-parry. You’re getting there.” Brienne lowered her sword, observing her girlfriend with a slight head tilt. “Do you wish to take a break? We can. This is not a real fight.”

“We could make it a real fight.” The Aussie was partially teasing, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. With Brienne not expecting it, Miranda swiftly brought her sword to the knight’s side, tapping her girlfriend with the flat side of the fake sword. She was only trying to get the Lord Commander’s attention, a little smirk tugging at the corner of the constable’s lips, “Care to spar?”

The knight only stared down at the sword when it hit her side, her eyes moving to plainly look at Miranda. “A real fight would entail real swords and a fight to the death, or near death. Just so you know.” Brienne lifted her head so she could face and look at her girlfriend properly. “What type of sparring?”

“Hand to hand, my darling.” The constable was hoping to prod at Brienne’s competitive side, her tone just as puckish as her smile. She tossed the fake sword onto her couch, and then gave the knight a motion with her hands, indicating Brienne should come to fight her, “I promise to go easy on you.” This final sentence was a complete joke, the Aussie knowing full well it would be Brienne going easy on her.

“If you so wish.” Brienne placed the sword down on the couch next to Miranda’s before she moved to stand in front of her girlfriend. She raised her hands and shifted her foot placement, settling into a stance she felt would help her defend against her partner’s attacks, and not so much help her attack the constable, at least not with her full strength. “Okay then, come at me.”

Not a bit of Miranda’s smile had faded, she was far too entertained with the thought of physically fighting with Brienne, an idea she knew she might soon regret. The constable knew her success in sparring at the academy was due to the stature she held over her opponents, but this was a luxury she did not have with the knight. Miranda had never been one to make the first move while training hand-to-hand, so she paused momentarily before moving at Brienne. There was the lightest amount of hesitation in Miranda to use her full strength against the knight, but that hesitation was quickly gone when Brienne defended herself. 

Brienne knew that the hand-to-hand combat that Miranda learned at the academy was inferior compared to the things she knew - putting her at an advantage. The knight was all too aware of this fact, so even when she dodged her girlfriend’s attack and saw an opening to get a hit in, she didn’t take it. She was sure that if she kept moving out of the way or dodging, the constable would tire herself out and would therefore be satisfied - so that was her plan for the remainder of the session, however long it ended up being.

After numerous tries, Miranda was only growing more frustrated with Brienne’s evasiveness, her eyes narrowing and smile disappearing. If anything, she was only more determined in proving herself to the knight. With a bit more tact, the constable thought out her next move thoroughly, successful in making contact with Brienne. Any grappling Miranda did to bring Brienne to the ground was only met with a greater strength, vexing the constable even further.

With the new development, Brienne realized she needed to adapt her strategy. Instead of only dodging, she would also use her hands to parry Miranda’s attacks. Cycling between them would ensure that she would stay unpredictable. Whenever the constable tried to drag the knight down to the ground, she stood firm and strong in her place, almost like a cliff or a mountain. The Lord Commander was surprised when she felt her partner make contact with her shoulder, but she was also incredibly impressed at how quickly the Aussie had modified her offense.

Miranda pulled away from Brienne, chest heaving as her eyes scanned her knight’s face. She was far from done with this sparring practice, but she knew she needed to change her tactics once more. The Lord Commander was far too experienced and strong for Miranda to win this by fighting fair.

Biting at her lower lip, the Aussie mulled over her options, knowing the most devious of them all would be using the progression of their physical intimacy against the knight. Lunging forward, Miranda was able to catch Brienne in her dodge from the side, winding an arm around the Lord Commander’s waist. She gripped Brienne’s bicep with her other hand and shifted her leg around the back of the knight’s hoping that she could knock her girlfriend off balance.

In any other case, Brienne was sure she would’ve been distracted enough to not notice Miranda’s leg behind her own. However, considering the mindset she was in of extreme awareness of her surroundings and her own physique, she realized her girlfriend was up to something the second she had gotten so close; and she was right in assuming so.

The knight launched a counterattack, her passivity over after the constable played dirty. Maneuvering herself out of the Aussie’s grip, the Westerosi moved in behind her partner, and with one fluid movement, she had the cop’s arms pinned behind her back. “Do you yield?” The Lord Commander breathed into her girlfriend’s ear, a slight pant to her voice.

Brienne’s breathing near her ear made Miranda’s knees weak. The constable softened immediately, unable to help herself when she slightly leaned back into the knight, the only noise coming from the Aussie was the softest whimper. 

When Brienne didn’t receive a verbal answer, she could only resume her attack. She brought her knee to the hollow of Miranda’s, giving it a firm but gentle hit, making her girlfriend fall to her knees. The knight followed her descent, the constable’s wrists still in a firm grip behind the Aussie’s back. “I need an answer.” The Lord Commander used the position she had to give her partner a gentle push, pinning the cop’s front to the floor. The Westerosi woman followed her down, her mouth landing right by her partner’s ear. “Do you yield, Constable? Yes, or no?”

The constable brought her lips between her teeth as she sucked in a breath, a whine escaping her when her knees hit the floor. This was by far the most intense position the two had ever been in and Miranda knew her girlfriend well enough to know that Brienne did not recognize the feelings a position like this could stir in the Aussie. It was when the Lord Commander’s mouth was by her ear once more with her front pressed to Miranda’s back that the cop’s filter faltered. “Oh Gods, Brienne...” Miranda moaned, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to block out all the sinful imagery her brain was procuring as this was not the time nor the place. 

The knight froze momentarily at the sound. Her entire being and mind stalled for a second before she regained control of them both. Brienne had no idea what the noise meant, and considering their current situation, she could only assume it was a moan of pain. “Am I harming you? If I am, you need to tell me.”

Attempting to pull herself from her impure thoughts, Miranda hummed and mumbled under her breath, trying to break free of Brienne’s grasp as she did so, “Mhmm... I’m okay.” She was more determined than ever to break free of the knight’s grasp, the determination being one part pride and the satisfaction of knowing her girlfriend would probably end up pinning her to the floor once more if she were to lose. Shifting her shoulders, the constable tried to pull her hands free of the knight’s grip while simultaneously pushing her hips back against Brienne’s to create some type of space between the two of them. 

Brienne felt how her girlfriend was trying to wiggle her way out of her grip, and performed actions to deny Miranda the opportunity to do so. The knight placed her knees on either side of the constable’s legs and brought them together, effectively trapping the cop’s legs between her own. Whilst she did this, she reinforced the hold she had on the Aussie’s wrists, ensuring that they stayed restrained. “I’ll let you go. All you have to do is say that you yield and freedom is yours.”

Being completely helpless whilst restrained by Brienne was an enlightening experience, reminding Miranda of the intimacy milestone the two women had yet to reach. The tightened grip on her wrists made the constable let out the most pathetic whimper as she knew the only way out was yielding. She knew it was perverse, but Miranda wasn’t ready for this to end quite yet, the feeling of Brienne being so close was not something the Aussie was able to enjoy often. Miranda shifted her legs about, which was the absolute wrong move, as it displayed the last amount of wiggle room to Brienne. 

“You can keep trying.” Brienne pressed her legs together even more, deleting all the space left for Miranda to use in her attempts to get loose. “Will you be good and yield? Or will we be here all evening? I don’t think that would be very comfortable for you… I can’t imagine that position being very comfortable.” There wasn’t a single teasing note in the knight’s tone, she had no idea that her movements could be taken in any other way than her securing her victory. She was, as she always was, entirely serious in her voice and actions, but at the same time, she was also incredibly gentle to avoid hurting her girlfriend, physically or mentally.

Miranda was absolutely losing it. Brienne clearly had no knowledge of the impact of her actions and the constable found that it made everything that much more intense. The Aussie was extremely uncomfortable, more so from her own spiraling thoughts. Miranda wanted Brienne in the worst way possible, but she knew it wasn’t a possibility so she settled for moaning under the knight once more, “Oh, Bri...” Her chest sunk towards the floor, providing Brienne with extra space and leverage that she wasn’t in need of. 

At the noise and the uttering of her name, Brienne’s legs tensed imperceptibly, clenching around Miranda’s legs subconsciously. She was almost certain her girlfriend wanted to say something judging by the fact that she kept saying her name all the time, so she assumed she needed to prompt the constable to keep going. Speaking next to her head and into her ear, the knight answered what she was sure was the cop getting her attention. “Yes, Mir? How may I be of assistance?”

Miranda was unable to help herself when she pushed her hips back into Brienne’s, grinding herself against her girlfriend for a fraction of a second before she caught herself. She began to weigh her options, not wishing to submit. Perhaps fighting dirty could work in her favor now. The possibility of stirring similar feelings in Brienne didn’t seem that far out of reach. Finally responding to her girlfriend’s question, the cop mustered a sound between a whimper and a moan, “Mm, you can be of assistance by putting one of your legs between mine and... pushing up. Please.” 

Each of her words was more whiny and desperate than the last, memories of previous make-outs running through Miranda’s mind. While the two had yet to consummate their relationship by having sex, they were progressing slowly toward the milestone. The past few weeks had been filled with many movies forgotten about in exchange for searing kisses and grinding against thighs to relieve the ache between both of their legs. 

The knight had to physically hold back a moan when Miranda spoke. Her words mixed with the tone of her voice reminded her of many of their make-out sessions. Her strong grip faltered for a fragment of a second before returning. Even if she was well aware of her girlfriend’s tactics of trying to distract her, this one caught her off-guard. Brienne was unsure if the constable was being serious in her words or if it was just a strategy, so she hesitated in doing what she was told. Considering she had no idea her movements could stir such feelings, she assumed the latter but she still had to check. “Do you… Are you serious?”

The constable had to debate if she was for a moment. Of course she wanted to be released from the position without yielding, so it would be the perfect way to take advantage of Brienne’s vulnerability with her. If Brienne were to shift her leg between Miranda’s, the constable would have the perfect opportunity to gain leverage and escape without yielding. Two things held Miranda back from using the sexual situation against Brienne: the first of which was the guilt of using a sexual situation against Brienne when she was already inexperienced in that area to begin with and the second was the constable’s insatiable desire to feel the knight’s leg between her own. 

After walking herself through the thought process, the cop hummed her reply, overwhelmed by her desire for Brienne, “Mhm... Please, baby...”

“If that is what you desire…” Brienne loosened her clamping around Miranda’s legs and lifted one of her knees, and wedged it between her girlfriend’s thighs. The grip she had on the constable’s wrists slackened before she removed her hands completely, wanting to offer the cop some reprieve. When she was in position, she whispered into her partner’s ear. “Then that is what you shall get.”

#gwendoline christie #gwen christie #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #got #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar (sandman) #the sandman #fanfic #fanfiction #crack fic #the road trip #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #brienne of tarth x miranda hilmarson #bri x mir #crossover #light smut

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

Wildflowers (pt. ixx)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: nsfw, exhibitionism

a/n:  well, i know it's been a while, but life just kind of goes goes goes when you're not looking, doesn't it? thanks for your patience. if you feel inclined to leave a comment or a word or two, it would be much appreciated. love you all.

pt. ixx, ground ivy

"You're mine, you're mine, you're mine."

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

“You love it. Now put this on.”

I eyed the white dress hanging on the end of Pat’s finger. “I’m not sure it’ll fit.”

“Oh, criminy. Don’t act like you’re dragging a trolley around.”

I blushed, spinning my arse toward the mirror and running a hand over my dress to show off the curve. “It’s deceptively large, Pat.”

“Julia, I’ve had two children,” Pat scoffed.

“And it doesn’t show.”

She huffed. “Put the bloody dress on, would you?”

I snatched the dress out of her hand and went behind the dressing screen in the corner of the guest room.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a tennis dress, love,” she piped.

“Why’s that?” I asked, voice muffled through the fabric of the dress as I pulled it over my head.

“Oh, you just give off that sort of tennis playing girl feeling. Don’t you think?”

I was not about to admit that I played quite a bit in school. I’d given up the sport altogether while I was with Nick. I hated being stuck with the girlfriends and wives of his barrister friends who were mostly vapid (and that, I thought, was a rather generous assessment). “I feel like that’s not a compliment.”

“No! Of course it is. You’re very elegant. Posh, even.”

I groaned. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m only telling you what’s true.”

I straightened out the dress before coming out from behind the screen.

“Oh, Julia, you look darling.”

I turned to look in the mirror. It did fit rather nicely, showing off my assets, but also the pudge of my arms I didn’t particularly like. I pulled at the fabric to lay flatter on my stomach. “Posh is how I’d describe my mother.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I laughed. “It is.” My mother was the textbook definition of the word, made even worse by the fact we were not wealthy by any means, but right on the cusp of upper middle class, which made her feel entitled to pretension. “Well, I guess it’ll do.”

“Yes, more than do.” Pat came up behind me and fluffed out the skirt. “You should keep it. Looks better on you than me.”

“You know, if John had given me some forewarning this would be happening, I’d –”

“Don’t be too upset with him. The planning was very last minute, what with the children and John – my John – he always bristles against leaving for too long, the blessed thing. And plus there was the whole issue of Miranda and –”

My ears perked up. I hadn’t heard that name in quite some time. “Miranda?”

Pat’s eyes widened innocently. “Oh yes, I had planned on inviting her. An extended date for John. Thought I’d try again with her since things didn’t seem to…work out between you.”

I blinked. “Why didn’t you then?”

Pat smiled. “Well, John told me he wasn’t interested.”

“Oh.”

“Said he was preoccupied in…other ways,” Pat said with a waggle of her eyebrows.

Immediately, I was struck with ire. Didn’t John know the old adage ‘loose lips sink ships’? “He told you?! Are you serious?”

“No, he didn’t. But you just did.”

I gaped and tried to recover, but all that came out of my mouth was stuttering nothingness.

“To be fair, John isn’t the best at keeping a secret when he’s had champagne. I had to suspect when we were at Jimmy’s and I asked after you and instead of answering he just giggled.”

I balled my hands into fists.

“Julia,” Pat said in a girlish drawl, leaning her arm on my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I wanted to tell her the honest truth: that it felt too complicated to tell. If I had thought Montreux was hard to explain, the past month would have been even more difficult.

Though I desperately clung onto the days leading up to John’s departure, my fingernails left no marks in the passage of time. Between managing the girls and balancing my emotions whilst also providing my usual ministry toward John (physically, emotionally, desperately), time was not on my side and before I knew it, it was the first day of school.

It helped that everyone was in good spirits. I could smile along, laugh, and enjoy life the way we had been in those twilight days of summer.

When I was alone with Annie, though, I was able to divulge my fears and secrets. She had either gotten over her resentment or pitied me enough to lend me an ear. Either way, I was grateful for it. I needed somewhere to pour out my feelings. I couldn’t taint John’s excitement and delight at the idea of “getting back at it”, as he put it.

It still didn’t make much sense to me after all the time he’d spent avoiding being goaded into returning to the madness of Zeppelin. But I had no place to question it.

I was just the lover.

Although…it was not lost on John that our time together was waning. He was exceptionally attentive when he could be. The moment we returned home from dropping the girls off for their first day of the school year, he shepherded me into the studio to sate his growing desire.

“Tomorrow…” he muttered. A cigarette hung from his mouth as he lazily buttoned up his shirt.

“Tomorrow, what?” I asked, moving at a much more sluggish pace, having to recover from being ruthlessly shagged.

John tugged his belt closed. “Bonzo and Pat are going to be popping by.”

I widened my eyes. “Popping by?”

“Relax, Julia.” He handed me his cigarette as he headed over to the piano. He was moving awfully fast these days. “Pat’s been nagging me for a visit and since we’ll be heading out on Wednesday, it just made sense for them to come down a day early. Then we can take off together.”

I took a drag of the cigarette, picking up my underwear from the floor. John began to play a tune as if I wasn’t even in the room. “They’ll be spending the night?”

His eyes flicked up to me and he smiled. “Yes. You’ll have to be on your best behavior.”

I suddenly felt exposed with my sleeve hanging off my shoulder. I readjusted it and rested my elbows on my knees. “I haven’t spoken to Pat since we were in Montreux.”

“She won’t hold it against you. You’ve been preoccupied.”

 I giggled. “I suppose so.”

John’s playing paused. He jerked his head toward the bench. “Come sit.”

I ashed the cigarette and went to the piano, sitting tentatively on the bench next to him. The studio was cleaner than it had been, mostly because I’d forced him to tidy up. No clothing on chairs or errant stacks of records.

John went back to playing, something quieter. “You’re off, Julia.” 

I raised my eyebrows.

“You think I haven’t noticed.”

I couldn’t respond because it was true. Perhaps I had misjudged him.

“Are you scared?”

I chewed on my lower lip and nodded, unwilling to answer him verbally.

“Because I’m leaving?”

A child. I felt like a child as he tried to coax out an answer from me. “I’ll be fine,” I said with a deep breath, forcing a smile.

John stopped playing again. He didn’t look up from the keys.

I had considered that I should ask. But I was always too afraid to utter those words. If I asked where we were going, I was worried John wouldn’t know or, worse, decide “nowhere” was the answer. “I don’t want you to worry,” I said, softly touching his wrist. “I know it will be hard for you to be away from the girls.”

This wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t my truth.

“Yes, but I know the feeling. I’m not looking forward to it, but I remember it somewhat,” John replied. He turned his hand over and interlaced his fingers with mine. “Besides, I know they’re in good hands.”

My heart sang. I would take every win I could, even if it wasn’t the thing I needed. It was better than nothing. “I’ll take good care of them.”

John started to trace his fingers along the back of my hand. “Is that what you need to hear? That I am confident you’ll take good care of them?”

I needed to hear so much more than that. But I could not bring myself to ask. “That’d be nice.”

He smiled. “I am confident that you’ll take good care of my girls.” Then, he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I trust you completely.”

I leaned my head onto his shoulder. “How far we’ve come.”

“Very far. And you better get out of here before either of us ‘comes’ any farther,” he said, pushing me away playfully, hand against my sternum.

I laughed and tumbled off the bench to my feet. We both had work to do. John started playing again as I headed for the door but spoke before I could slip out. “You don’t happen to have a tennis skirt, do you?”

I turned around with a bewildered look. “Pardon me?”

“A tennis skirt. For tomorrow.”

“What do you mean a tennis skirt for tomorrow?”

“We’ll be playing tennis tomorrow per Pat’s request. Naturally, you’ll need a tennis skirt.”

This man left me more and more speechless by the minute.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” John stopped playing and notated something on the sheet music in front of him. “It’s no matter. I’ll tell Pat to bring something for you.”

“Right. Tennis.”

“Don’t get in your head, Julia,” John teased with a smirk.

“Not in my head at all.” Very much in my head, thank you for noticing. I opened the door and said wryly, “In fact, if you’d refer to me as Billie Jean King for the rest of the day, I’d much appreciate it.”

John laughed, “Alright, Billie Jean. If Battle of the Sexes is what you want, it’s what you’ll get.”

Now, here I was in Pat’s white tennis dress, having shown my whole hand to her because I didn’t see through her trickery. “I don’t know. It’s very tender.”

“So, didn’t anything happen at Montreux?”

I rolled my eyes. “Pat –”

“If you don’t answer the question, I’m just going to assume, you know.”

I smiled at the memory of that first kiss.

Pat batted me on the arm. “You little tart! You know how badly I’ve felt all this time thinking I’ve made things awkward, and it turns out you were just being secretive?”

“I’m sorry,” I said through laughter. “I’m sorry, you know, it’s just so…tender.”

“Tender sounds perfect.”

“Yes, but that’s not how I mean. I mean that it’s tenuous.” Tender and tenuous.

Pat narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know where you stand, then.”

“God, you’re good.”

She shrugs. “Just been around the block. You know I’m awfully old.”

I didn’t know how old she was but “awfully” was not how I’d describe it.

“Anyway.” She gave me her arm to take and guided me out of the guest room. “We’ll figure out where you stand today. Mark my words.”

“Don’t do anything stupid or obvious, Pat. We’ve never been around other people. I’m sure we’re going to pretend like nothing has been happening at all.”

Pat snickered. “Please, it doesn’t take a genius to spot two people who want to tear each other’s clothes off pretending they don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off.”  Then, she tossed her blonde hair back and sniffed. “Besides. I’m not obvious.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.             

The two of us tittered and made our way out to the terrace where the Johns were waiting in similarly matching white tennis sets.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” Pat exclaimed and bounced over to Bonzo, leaping into his lap and spreading her hand across his broad chest. “Just suits you, I think.”

“Don’t lie. I look like a meringue,” Bonzo grumbled.

She patted her hand on his stomach. “Don’t be silly.”

John was standing near the edge of the terrace, his foot up on a stone to tie one of his shoes. I was avoiding looking at him to hopefully put on an air of distance, although that seemed rather silly considering three of the four of us knew what was going on. And it was doubtful Pat hadn’t been talking to her husband about it.

So we’re just going to posture until someone keels over and dies, are we?

“Well, shall we?” Pat asked excitedly.

“If we must,” Bonzo said, pushing himself up to standing with her still in his arms.

She laughed and squirmed out of his arms. “Oh, no you don’t.” She picked up their racket bag from the table. She really could have been at Wimbledon. The whole look suited her. “Let’s go.”

Bonzo followed his wife off the terrace toward the tennis court.

Strings of a racket entered my visions. “Got one for you.”

I followed the contour of the racket, held by a hand I knew so well, up his arm, and finally, looked into John’s sapphire eyes. “Thank you,” I said, delicately taking the racket from him.

John glanced at the court where Pat was already practicing her swing and Bonzo was imitating her. This was met with riotous laughter from her. “You look nice.”

“John.”

“What? I mean it, the little skirt,” John teasingly glanced down at my bottom, “suits you.”

I sighed. “That’s not…Pat already knows about…” I crooked my finger and gestured between the two of us.

John feigned shock. “What? Did you tell her?”

“I said nothing.” One little white lie wouldn’t hurt. “Apparently you spilled the beans while you were drunk on champagne at Jimmy’s.”

I started for the tennis court; John quickly caught up with my stride. “Now, just a second. I did not ‘spill the beans’. I did nothing of the sort.”

“How would you remember if you were so drunk?”

“I’d certainly remember if I told people about –” John mocked the earlier move of my finger.

“Don’t move your finger like that at me!”

“You did it first!” 

“Yoo-hoo!” Pat called out, waving her hand excitedly. “Are you going to just stand there gawking at each other or come play?”

“We’re coming! Goodness, you’re as impatient as a calf on a tit!” I shouted at her.

Bonzo guffawed. “Yes, that’s about right.”

I touched my mouth softly, mortification setting in.

“Calf on a tit, mm?” John asked with a humored waggle of his eyebrows. 

“Sometimes the farm just comes out,” I grumbled. “Especially when I’m annoyed.”

“Julia…” he admonished. “Don’t be cross with me.” Then, to my surprise, he wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me close. “If they know, they know. Makes it more fun, doesn’t it?” He capped off his public display with a soft kiss to my cheek.

I was stunned. I was absolutely ready to disdain him for a long while before I had to be my sweet self. Now, he was kissing me out in the open.

“Let’s have some fun before I go, shall we?”

He was smoother than butter and yet I was the one melting.

“Fine,” I replied and kissed him again, this time on the lips. If he wanted to have fun, I wasn’t taking any prisoners.

From the court, I could hear the hollers of the Bonhams. Brought me back to my school days when everyone was daring one another to kiss over an empty bottle of ale.

“By the way, those suit you,” I said, eyeballing the tiny white shorts doing a poor job of concealing his package.

I walked away before he could respond, wiping my lips clean of his spit. “You didn’t see any of that,” I said to Pat as I approached her.

 Her eyes gleamed. “Definitely not.” She popped her hip up against mine. “What do you think? Mixed doubles?”

“No, no, I promised Julia a battle of the sexes and that’s what it will be,” John announced, swinging his racket over his shoulder as he brushed by me. “Johns against Janes, come on, mate.” He patted Bonzo on the chest and the two walked to the other side of the court.

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, aren’t they?” Pat murmured.

She had a point. Big lumbering John and the smaller, more skittering John. A dynamic duo, an attraction of opposites. I hadn’t seen them play, but I’d heard. You’d be daft not to recognize their enigmatic fusion, full of power and nuance, neither one ever too much or too little.

Perhaps it had been predetermined by their biology.

“We’re serving first!” Pat cried out.

“Ladies first,” Bonzo conceded without any fuss.

Pat prodded my hip with her racket. “Want to serve, or should I?”

“You do it. I’m too rusty. Need to warm up.” I moved to the front of the court.

John and Bonzo mirrored us, John taking the front of the court and Bonzo the back. I got myself in a ready position and gave John a sly smile. “Best of luck.”

He blew me a kiss, sticking the racket out in front of him.

Game on.

“Alright, boys! Watch out!” Pat cried out before throwing the ball upward and elegantly serving the ball over the net, the pop of the tennis ball echoing over the court.

The ball went straight to Bonzo who crudely volleyed it back to me. I backhanded it over the net, right past John, quite literally sending him back in a tailspin; that’s all it took to earn us the first point.

“Rusty, are you?” Pat cackled.

I cocked my hip to the side and smiled. “Some say it’s like riding a bicycle.”

“Or riding something else, eh?”

We both snickered. This was going to be fun.

It quickly became apparent that I had no reason to be worried about my rustiness. Not only was Pat an adept partner, but our opponents were as laughable as the Three Stooges. Practically a slapstick routine how big and little John tripped over one another, darting back and forth, nearly running smack into one another and the ball bumbling between them.

“For God’s sake, could you try at all?” Pat cried out when we'd just surpassed them at forty-love. 

“You takin’ the piss or what?” Bonzo said through heaving breaths. “Didn’t you see me running back and forth around here or –”

“Oh don’t be breathing like you ran to Waterloo and back!” Pat snipped in return.

I couldn’t help laughing. Their rapport was so easy, endearing and needling in the best way.

“I tried,” John (my John) said, leaning up against the net post.

Pat went to him and touched the little curl of his hair at his jaw. “All you’re trying to do is make sure the ball doesn’t hit you square between the eyes while you admire Julia’s tits.” She yanked the lock of his hair playfully.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Someone’s got to keep you in check. I know Julia’s too sweet on you to do anything about it,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “We’ll go again. Try harder.”

Pat waltzed back to her spot on the court. I should have known she would be competitive.

“You heard her. Try again. And harder, while you’re at it, hm?” I said, emulating Pat’s attitude.

John and John gave each other a look, resigned to their fate. “If I have a coronary…” Bonzo droned.

“I know mouth to mouth,” John replied, shoving him off to the back corner. Before I could return to my place on the court, he caught my eye and smiled. “You’re sweet on me, hm?”

I glanced back at Pat and cocked my head to the side. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

And with that, I flounced back to my spot on the court, more smug than I probably deserve to be.

The second match went just as poorly except with less balletic antics. They had Pat and me in stitches the way they were stumbling about. We didn’t have it in us to finish the match – wanted to preserve their integrity – and Annie didn't have it in her to continue watching the massacre from the window. She interrupted us with a trayful of aperitifs (an ale for Bonzo, sherry for the rest of us).

I suddenly understood why people liked to play tennis. There was a whole lot of standing around and chatting. A lot of lazing about in the sun, cheeks blushed with alcohol, veiled and not so veiled, teases thrown around.

It felt even better to be at the elbow of a man I was coming to adore much quicker than I could make logical sense of. I liked being eyed over John’s glass of sherry and enjoyed the playful touch of his hand from time to time.

“How’ve you got a whole court in your backyard and you’re that daffy at tennis, Jonesy?” Bonzo asked, a mustache full of foam.

“I’m a busy man,” John replied. The sherry glass looked like a delicate spider web between his fingers.

“Yes, been keeping very busy…” Pat smirked.

John let out a knowing laugh. “Compared to Jimmy’s dart playing, I think I’m a competent tennis player.”

“A caterpillar would be a competent tennis player compared to Jimmy at darts,” Bonzo added with a shrewd smile.

I knocked back the rest of my sherry. “Well, John, I had my battle of the sexes. Maybe we ought to mix things up so your ego isn’t too bruised by the time the day is out.”

“Me? An ego?” John clutched his heart. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t,” Bonzo laughed low and patted his friend on the back. “Come on. Take your girl, I won’t be hurt.”

Pat wrapped her arm around her husband’s bulging bicep as she joined him on the opposite side of the court.

I didn’t mind being John’s “girl” even if I usually abhorred being called anything but a woman. In the presence of the right man, diminutiveness feels safe and welcoming. In fact, seeing how John treated the girls in his life made me want to be one. A delicate little flower, nourished by his dotage and admired with tenderness. Rather than tenderized like a piece of meat.

“You better serve,” John said.

“So I can make up for your fumbling, hm?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Seems like I’m the Tin Man between the two of us, if we’re comparing rustiness.”

I touched his chin. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” I leaned in to kiss him and quickly spun away from him before our lips could collide. “Later.”

John guffawed as I slipped out of his grasp. “Later. Alright.”

I walked away with a spring in my step like I’d never felt. Whether it was the sherry or our attraction being witnessed, I didn’t know. I didn’t need to know. All I had to do was work the court with everything I had in me.

Looking at the length of the tennis court, I was suddenly struck with my reality. Julia Morgan, nanny, standing on a tennis court in the sprawling gardens of a Georgian manor house, sleeping with her employer.

If only the Bronte sisters had gotten a load of me.

“Alright, Julia. Give it a rip!” Pat shouted. She was taking the front of the court, counting on Bonzo’s width to control the back of the court.

I gave the white wooly ball a few bounces, then threw it up in the air and gave it my best serve.

Pop! The ball flew across the court. It thwapped the ground and bounced toward Bonzo.

“Got it?!” Pat yelped.

He backhanded it over the net. “Got it!”

“You have to say, ‘got it’ before you get it!”

I couldn’t concentrate more on the conversation. I skittered up the court the moment I saw John whiff it. “Mine,” I grunted and knocked the ball back over the net. Pat and I kept a good volley with the Johns contributing now and then, until I sent the ball to the back corner, and it bounced out of bounds.

“Oo! Fifteen-love to Julia. No thanks to John!”

“I helped a little.”

“Yes, you did, darling,” I cooed, pinching his cheek.

The game was more interesting than boys versus girls, but still ended up being Pat and I doing most of the work which is, when you think of it, sadly true to life.

However, with the alcohol running through our systems, even Pat and I went silly some of the time. Tripping over ourselves, skipping around the court, throwing our heads back with laughter The score went out the window, and we all did a feral, gameless dance.

“I think we’ve won,” I said after several bouts.

“No thanks to me, hm?” John murmured, coming up behind me and stealing a kiss.

I latched a hand onto the breast of his shirt. “Certainly not.”

“I’ll allow it only because you’re sickeningly adorable together,” Pat said with a long, heavy sigh. “I’m awfully tired though. Will you be gutted if we call it quits?”

I wanted nothing more than to retreat into the house for a shower and a number of other things. “No, I think it’s about time.”

“We need a catnap before dinner,” Pat said and then tucked her mouth behind her hand to whisper to me, “At least he does.”

“Are you talkin’ about me over here?”

“Never.” Pat smiled at him innocently and batted her lashes.

Bonzo eyed her and then swiped her legs out from under her and threw her over his shoulder. “Likely story.”

“Oh, you brute,” she sighed dreamily. “See you two at dinner!” Pat yelped, hanging over her husband’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, attempting to wave goodbye.

John and I both laughed and watched them go off. I smiled surreptitiously at him, touching the lapel of his tennis shirt. “Well, should we follow them?”

He cocked his head, almost confused. “You all finished?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You wanted to play more?”

“Oh, I just thought –” John picked up the tennis ball from the ground and popped it in the air, catching it right back in his palm. “You and I could have a go.” He placed the ball into my hand. “Thought you could teach me a few things.”

“John, my skills cannot be taught,” I teased.

“Mm, can’t they?” He stepped up to me, toe to toe. He might not have been much taller than me, but when he acted cocky, he managed to tower. “Humor me, Julia.”

Damn him. So pretty and intoxicating. And so little time left. Less than twelve hours before he’d be gone. I pointed to the other side of the court with my racket. “Alright. But don’t be upset when I beat you.”

“Trust me, Julia, it will be an absolute honor to lose to you.”

I smiled to myself and crossed to my position on the court. “You ready?”

“Whenever you are, Billie Jean.”

“Watch and learn, I guess,” I said through a giggle. I’d gained a lot of confidence in my serve since the last game. My body remembered the pattern, the reach and the arc.

The ball flew across the court. John was on his toes, fast and precise with his movement. I was impressed. He might have been the Tin Man to start, but his joints had clearly been oiled. However, with a final swing of my racket, I managed to make the point. John ran to catch it but stopped short of the sideline. “Damn. Thought I had you,” he called out.

“You get the idea. You want to serve now?”

John smiled in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“That was just a practice,” I said with a casual shrug. “Besides, you’ll have to keep up with my technique,” I said, springing on my feet and swinging my racket playfully.

John laughed. “Oh, Julia…”

“What?”

John retrieved the ball and sighed. “I’m going to miss you.” Bounced the ball a few times. “That’s all.”

My heart fluttered. “You’re trying to distract me.”

A childish grin spread on his face. “Is it working?”

I set myself up at the back of the court and watched John ready his serve. A few bounces of the ball, tossing his hair out of his eyes, rolling his shoulders back. Throw and��

I wasn’t prepared for the strength of his serve. The ball flashed like lightning across the court. I didn’t even see it before it hit just before the baseline and out of bounds. “Bloody hell!” I screeched.

“Sorry!”

I looked at John. He still wore a hapless sort of expression. “What was that?”

“Luck, I guess?”

I collected the ball and tossed it back. “Alright. Fifteen-love, huh?”

“Is that my first point of the day? Goodness…” John mused as he readied his serve again.

This time, his serve was powerful, but I was quick this time and hit it right back onto his side of the net. John leapt up to meet it, smacking it back toward me. It whipped past my ear and out of my reach. I looked at him with wide eyes.

“Coincidence?” John said with a shrug.

I wasn’t so sure. “Thirty-love.” I threw the ball back his way.

Sure enough, his serve was quick and exacting. I was prepared though, and we were able to volley back and forth. Each time I hit the ball felt more and more out of my reach. I was having to take longer strides and leaps to get to it. And eventually, John made the kill shot, sending the ball off the court.

I stopped to catch my breath, placing my hands on my knees. “What…the hell…”

“Maybe I just needed to warm-up.”

I glanced over at him, breath still heaving. The fucker didn’t even seem plussed. He was smiling ear to ear. Almost like a maniac. “Are you hustling me?” I called out.

John frowned. “No, how would I be doing that?”

“Because you barely managed a point all afternoon and now it’s forty-love.”

John grabbed a new ball and readied himself for another serve. “I assure you, Julia, I haven’t been doing anything of the sort.” He bounced the ball waiting for me to be ready. Then, he lifted his head, sneaking a smirk on his face. “Besides…if I was hustling you, we would have had to have made a bet, wouldn’t we?”

I didn’t have time to argue the semantics of hustling before he thwapped the ball back over the net toward me. I had to think fast on my feet, just as I’d been doing all day. However, whereas I’d been at the top of my game all day, John had been storing his up for later. The sneak.

To the surprise of no one but my past self, John won with one stroke, leaving me with nothing but an aching elbow and sweaty brow. The ball whipped past me, bouncing off the court and into the grass. I turned to look at it, looking almost like an egg that had dropped from a nest.

“A fluke.”

My whole body went rigid at his voice.

“Shall we try again? Just to see?”

Growing up with two brothers, it was impossible for me not to be competitive. Wedged between the two of them in the birth order, I was always pushing myself to keep up. I knew I could wipe the floor with them.

And this would be no different. “Your luck is running out, Jones.” I grabbed the ball from the lawn and prepared to serve.

“Do your worst, Julia.”

My worst, or should I say best, fell short.

Fell really short.

Because John…well, if I hadn’t been the one losing to him, I would have said he was stunning. For a casual tennis player at least. He was quick, direct, agile. It seemed like every move was planned out before it happened, even though there was no way he could have known.

The final point had me stumbling toward the net like an idiot. I was Tweedle Dee and Dum wrapped into one.

He’d tricked me. And now he was just rubbing it in my face.

“What a surprise, huh?”

I stared at his pristine white shoes, hoping I could set them on fire with my gaze alone. “You…hustler.”

“I can’t be a hustler if –”

“Don’t.” I glared at him.

John still smiled stupidly.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Of course I am.”

I let out a guttural shriek and dropped my racket to the ground. I’d known enough children in my life to know what made a good tantrum. “You hustled –”

“Ah, ah, ah,” John taunted, wagging his finger.

I huffed. I didn’t even want to look at him. It didn’t matter that the only people who knew my foolishness were John, myself, and God.

“You fooled me.”

John grinned. “That’s the word!”

I gaped at him. So he admitted it. I wasn’t going to put up with this treatment any longer. I turned on my heels and stalked back to the house. Through his childish antics, the entire day had been tainted.

“Oh, oh, oh!” I heard John run after me. The metal of his racket hits my hip bone. He looped his arm around me, grabbed the metal of the racket, and pulled me flush to his pelvis. I gasped, struggling to continue walking. He only pulled me tighter. “Are you really so cross at me you’re going to throw a tantrum?”

I tried to wriggle, but with every step forward, he pulled harder. I turned to look at him over my shoulder and felt his hot breath slide across my face. “Yes.”

“Really? You’re going to ruin our…” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Wonderful day because…” my jaw.

“John…”

“…of your pride,” he murmured into my neck before pressing his lips to the delicate skin.

I couldn’t deny how he melted me. I couldn’t stay mad at him. Not when his mere touch made me feel like this. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” John mumbled and tightened the racket even more. I could feel his hardness up against my backside.

I grabbed the racket and tried to push it away. “I’m mad at you.”

He chuckled darkly, sliding his mouth up to my ear. “Are you?”

I didn’t have time to respond before he nibbled on my ear lobe. I let out a moan despite myself. “Fuck…”

“I knew you couldn’t be mad for too long.”

With him leaving tomorrow, there was no way I could be mad for too long. After all, I wanted him to come back to me. To adore me all the same. “I hate you.”

John sighed, pleased. “I know.”

I raked my hand through his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss. The moment our lips collided I knew I was done for.

John dropped the racket, one hand grabbing for my chest and the other sliding under my skirt, knocking up against my wet panties.

“John, not here,” I said breathlessly between kisses.

John bit down on my lower lip, pulling away. “Why not?” His hand on my chest caressed my breast eagerly, thumbing at my nipple until it stood erect through the fabric. “We’ve done it outside before.”

I looked in horror at the house. Thinking about all the life inside. “But the house –”

John’s hand threaded into my underwear, fingers dipping inside me. My legs went weak. “What about the house?”

“I…” All words left my brain as he pulsed his fingers inside me.

“What are you scared of?”

“They’re…” I tried to swallow. “In the house, there are people –”

John shoved his fingers deep inside me, thumb skimming my clit. I let out a strangled whine. “So what if there are people in the house?” he said through gritted teeth.

The feelings were so intense that I had to drop to my knees, grass breaking my fall. John didn’t let me go for a second. As the house loomed, my pleasure grew. It was so wrong and perverse.

And it felt so good.

John began to push my underwear down, further and further until I could feel his bare cock against my ass. “John, they’ll see!” I said in an urgent whisper.

His fingers curled around my chin, jerking my head back to look at into his eyes. Almost completely black, edged in blue.

Who was this man? What had gotten into him? Only weeks ago he had been whimpering in my arms, terrified of coming too fast. Now he was…an animal.

“Listen to me, Julia,” he said, each word tight with consonants. “I don’t care if anyone sees.”

I gulped.

“Because that house,” he said eyes flicking toward the house momentarily, “is mine. I can do whatever I want. I can do who I want. You understand?”

I nodded, completely hypnotized.

John’s finger traced the outside of my mouth. “The house is mine; the court is mine, the ground under you is mine.” He kissed me softly. “And Julia?”

“What?”

“You are mine.”

I couldn’t respond before John forced me down onto the grass, pushing himself inside of me. I cried out in surprise, the stretch sending a shock of warmth through my body. His hand pressed into my upper back, keeping my chest tight to the ground while my ass stayed in the air.

John made quick work, fast and hard.

And despite all the terror, the fear that someone was looking through a curtain from somewhere inside, I loved it.

I loved every second.

“Did you hear me?” he grunted through his teeth. “You’re mine.”

I moaned, feeling blades of grass fold into my lips.

John continued to mercilessly thrust, doubling over my back. I could hear every one of his breaths, his spit moving in his mouth, whimpers tucked deep in his throat. I dug my fingers into the dirt, clinging for dear life as my body was rocked back and forth with electric pulses from his cock buried inside me.

John’s fingers curled around my hips, so hard it was almost painful.

Nothing was pain, though, when I knew how much he wanted me.

I turned my face into the Earth and let out a huge, plangent cry. My whole body tightened with impending euphoria.

John let out a pathetic grunt. “Oh god, oh my god, I – ahh!”

My orgasm caught me off guard; my cunt clenched around him as warm, angry pleasure sent me spiraling.

As I reveled in pleasure, John pressed himself up against my back and with each final thrust, he grunted, “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re –” John cut himself off. Even he couldn’t stay composed when it came to his desire. “O-oh.”

And then he came, deep inside me, his seed feeling hotter and more desperate than usual.

I could feel his heart pounding into my back like a drum.

John’s head drooped beside mine; he kissed the crest of my ear tenderly, as if he hadn’t just fucked me without repentance out in the open.

His words echoed in my head. You’re mine. It seemed so simple, just two words. But I had no idea what that meant to him. Which part of me was he claiming? My body? My heart? He could have all of it, but I didn’t want to give it away and look rash.

John rolled off of me with a sated sigh. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said, following suit and flopping onto my back. I looked down at my dress. White splotched with green. “Oh god, Pat’s dress.”

“I’ll buy her a new one,” John sighed. He reached out and pulled on my skirt. “Besides, this looks too good on you to get rid of.”

I gave him a small, bashful smile. “It’s probably nearly time to get the girls from school.”

“Oh, them. Forgot about them.”

“Shut up,” I snipped.

He laughed through closed lips.

“I’ll need to shower before I go to get them.”

“No, no. I’ll get them.” John pushed himself up to sitting with a heavy sigh, collapsing over his chest.

I giggled. “You sure you’ll make it?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Not to worry.” He got to his feet and dusted off the few blades of grass from his white shirt and tiny shorts. “Are you coming?”

My whole body felt like a part of the earth. I couldn’t leave it now. “In a minute. I’ll be up in a minute.”

John put his hands on his hips. “You’re not still cross with me, are you?” he asked, eyeing me.

I waved my feet back and forth. “Oh, of course I am.”

“Guess I’ll have to make up for it later then, hm?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

I sighed, considering his expression. That sneaking little smile. Deep dimples. It broke my heart knowing tonight was our last night for a while.

John blew me a kiss. “I’m off.”

I kissed the air, too tired to even motion backward.

John sauntered up to the house.

“Change before you go,” I called out after him.

No response. I was bathed only in the delicate sounds of nature.

I could lay there. Forever, maybe. Let the worms devour me until I became a part of the earth. Then I wouldn’t have the question if I was John’s. I’d be a part of the ground that would belong to him.

Then, he could never get rid of me.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have that kind of time. I had to get myself in proper shape for the girls when they got home. I scurried upstairs to the apartment, narrowly avoiding a collision with Annie, stripped off my clothes, and jumped in the shower, washing off the tramp and stepping back into the role of Madonna.

I could be both for him. While he was away, I could take care of his children, keep his home. And then when he returned, I could tend to him. All his needs.

He’d be a fool to let me go, wouldn’t he?

When John returned with the girls, we corralled them into the kitchen where Annie had set the table with lemonade and tea cakes. They stuffed their faces while they excitedly talked about their day at school.

The Bonhams joined us shortly after to the thrill of the girls. Pat doting, Bonzo teasing. John and I of course retreated into our respectable distance. After all, a confirmed romance is one thing, but involving his children would be another. However, I couldn’t ignore the prolonged glances through dinner, the tiny smiles exchanged over dessert, and the graze of his hand on my neck as he passed behind my seat.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

Bloody hell, that meant something, didn’t it?

Evening turned into night. Pat and I took care of bedtime while the Johns retreated into the studio, already chomping at the bit to get back to the music. While I was dreading John’s trip, their excitable chatting over what was to come let me know it was right.

Pat and I stayed up for several hours gabbing away, catching up on every little thing since Montreux. I was pleased to be able to call her a friend.

However, when midnight came and went and there was no sign of our respective male companions, Pat had had enough. “What are they getting up to down there anyway?”

“Any number of things.”

She got to her feet and went to the door to the stairwell. She listened for a moment and then huffed. “I don’t even think they’re playing anymore! What on earth do they have to talk about?”

I giggled.

“I want him to get to bed. otherwise he’ll be grumpy in the morning and we’ll have to wake him up with smelling salts.”

“I’ll do it, I’ve got a lot of experience interrupting John in the studio.”

“Mm. Well, I’ll go with you in case my husband gives you grief.”

I tiptoed down the stairs, with Pat at my heels. We could hear the muffled conversation of men through the gap in the studio door.

The closer we got the more words we could make out.

Pat shot ahead of me and cocked her ear toward the door.

“Are you listening?” I whispered.

She put her finger over her mouth to silence me and pulled me close to her. “We can have a little fun too, can’t we?” she said, lips so close to my ear she might be kissing me.

I wasn’t above eavesdropping. In fact, it seemed like a fun little game for two adult women having something resembling a slumber party.

Oh, but how wrong I was.

“You’ll keep quiet about it, won’t you?”

“Who would I even tell?” Bonzo could be heard asking.

“I don’t know,” came John’s voice. Quieter. Nervous even. “Robert, maybe.”

“Don’t be thick, Jones. We don’t talk about your extracurriculars,” he replied with a deep chuckle.

“Ah, right.”

“Besides, what would be the harm in anyone knowing you fancy Julia anyway?”

Pat and I exchanged a look. My heart started to pump in my chest. He was talking about me.

Making sure I was a secret.

“Because…I don’t know if I even fancy Julia.”

Pat grabbed my arm.

Luckily, Bonzo was there to defend my honor. “You’re mental. The way you two were acting out there today.”

John didn’t reply. Pat and I leaned closer to the door in case we missed him whispering.

“She’s a pretty thing, she’s good with your girls, what more is there to it?” Bonzo continued.

“Alright, well, it’s not that I don’t fancy her, I guess. What I mean is…”

There was a long silence. I would have liked to jump into it and never be heard from again.

“It’s all been moving so quickly. And –” John cleared his throat. “You know, I still think about her all the time.”

That “her” was not me.

That “her” was Mo.

“‘Course you do, mate.”

“My mind just gets so…scrambled up.” Another pause. “And I need to get that all straightened out before I move forward with anything.”

Pat took that moment to pull open the door. I darted out of view, wringing my hands in the skirt of my nightgown. “Well, you two might as well just marry each other how long you’ve left us cold in bed, huh?”

I hurried up the stairs and left the chastising to her. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as I leapt into bed and tucked myself under the covers.

Of course he wasn’t ready. How could I have been so foolish? Men never, ever say what they mean. They say what they think and don’t bother to evaluate whether they should say it. They feel entitled to every stupid thought that pops into their head.

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

By the time John crept into bed and slid his arms around me, I was not in the mood to indulge his impulses.

“You’re tired?”

“Mhm.”

He kissed me softly at the base of my skull with the lips that had just had the audacity to denounce me behind closed doors. “Goodnight, angel.”

For the first time since finding out he was leaving, I couldn’t wait for him to get out of my bed.

tag list: @jimmys-zeppelin, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @edal-weis, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis, @rebel-without-a-zeppelin, @jimmypages, @dollyvandal, @cassiana-on-dark-side , @thepinklovewitch, @faisonsunreve, @sastrugie, @seventieswhore, @t4ngerinedr3am, @mayspringcome, @barrettavenue, @foreverandadaydarling, @glimmerofsanity, @montereypopgroupie, @lzep, @jimmysdragonsuit13, @n0quart3r, @larsgoingtomars, @paginate54, @leveeisbreaking (let me know if you’d like to be added 💋)

#john paul jones #led zeppelin #john paul jones x oc #wildflowers #wf #john bonham #pat bonham #julia morgan

[freyanistics]

Alright guys it’s time again

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Donna shifts in her chair in the holy chapel of Mother Miranda awaiting for the black god’s arrival. She could hear the distant talking of the other lords but her mind was elsewhere, on Natasha. It’s been three days since she offered her home to the former wife of Alcina Dimitrescu and expecting mother. Natasha had told her she found out a week earlier before she caught the large woman being unfaithful.

A child.

Donna liked children. She never been around them a whole lot but she did like watching them play whenever she went in the village. Deep down she always wanted to become a mother. It was why she made dolls and treated Angie like one.

It reminded her when she was almost a mother…

“Donna?” Karl’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts as she jolts looking up at the ruggish man.

Karl stood in his usual attire wielding his large hammer as he looked at her through his round black shades. “You okay?” He asked her, slight concern in his voice. Heisenberg usually showed no interest to the other lords but out of all of them he did seem to somewhat care for the dollmaker. He just got annoyed by Angie whenever she opened her wooden mouth.

Nodding her head she made a gesture with her hand to reassure him.

“You miss her too eh?” He asked as his face fell a bit.

“Of course she misses her! We all do, hammerhead!” Angie’s voice rang out as she runs past him to climb back into Donna’s lap.

“Is she-is she coming back?” Moreau asks coming around from his seat shuffling towards the other two lords. None of them try to flinch away from him.

“She’s not coming back, fish breath! She’s probably never coming back!” Angie says as Donna nudged her. “What? I’m only telling the truth! Better be truthful than to lie!” She says folding her little arms.

This seem to set the fish like being into despair as he lets out a loud wail of a cry. “But but she said she would watch the little mermaid with me and paint the inside of my house like the ocean! She said she would always be my friend!” He continues wailing as he suddenly vomits up acid onto the church’s floor.

“Pull yourself together, Sal! She only left because of that big bitch! It’s all her fault!” Heisenberg snapped as he lit up his cigar.

All conversation ceased as the doors to the chapel opens causing all four heads to turn towards the newest arrival.

Lady Dimitrescu ducks under the double doors before straightening, her golden eyes looking between the others. Lady Dimitrescu was one of power and confidence. She was intimidating, calculating, and cold hearted. Most of the villagers feared her and the trap that awaits in the castle.

But the other lords now had something to hold above her head that was even bigger than her ego.

“Good afternoon to you all.” Alcina says making her way to her custom made chair.

Angie was the first to respond.

“Welcome back cheater!” She shouts from Donna’s lap.

“Well well Alcina I gotta give it to you, I knew you was low from the beginning but I never knew you were this low. “ Heisenberg said as he places his hammer down leaning on it.

“Say what you want Heisenberg, but you don’t know the full story.” Alcina grinds out sitting down. Now that she was closer Donna took time to study her. The first thing she noticed was her makeup was off, where her usual pristine white skin was now showed areas of bluish grey, as if the countess had rushed or just forgot to apply the makeup on correctly. Her eyes, usually filled with determination and fury were replaced with sadness and depletion. Bags also seem to have formed under them signaling she haven’t been getting enough sleep or was too stressed. Maybe both. She was still ethereally beautiful but there hints of unkempt.

“Oh well do enlighten us dear sister.” Heisenberg said grinding out on the word sister. He only referred to her as that to get under her skin. And it was working. “Was the sex life just not enough for you? Your appetite too big you had to fuck someone else, an employee of yours at that. Needed some of that young pussy? Wanted something new than the old? Did your little toy give a better sloppy?”

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Alcina snaps jumping up causing Donna to flinch in her seat clutching Angie.

“Oh that’s enough?” Heisenberg shouted back gripping his hammer. “You always said men were low down dirty dogs that would hump anything that moved. So I guess in your books you’re one of them, a low down dirty bitch in heat who would hump just about anything that moves.”

“Oooooo.” Both Angie and Sal says watching the argument with gleeful eyes.

“Why you nimrod of a-“ Alcina growls out starting to unsheath her claws when the loud caw of crows could be heard from outside.

“Shit.” Karl mutters before going back to his assigned chair.

Quickly Alcina got herself together before sitting down, smoothing out her dress.

Everyone seem to go quiet as the room went still, the sound of crows still ringing out.

Nobody dared say anything else.

Not when she had arrived.

Black feathers floated in the room as the black god appeared seemingly out of thin air. Her bird like mask concealed her face, but Donna could still see her icy blue eyes looking at everyone. Analyzing, calculating.

“Ah my dearest children, it’s so good to see you all again.” Miranda starts, her voice oozing like honey. Her head turns eyeing each lord with fake adoration. Salvatore and Alcina, who seem to beam in excitement while Donna and Heisenberg were indifferent.

“I hope you two weren’t trying to kill each other while I was gone.” She says referring to Alcina and Heisenberg. The two shared a look before Heisenberg faced the different direction letting out a puff of smoke.

“No Mother Miranda, I can assure you none of that happened in your absence.” Alcina answers dipping her head respectfully.

“Good. However I sense some tension in the room, care to enlighten me?” The black god asks turning to face the tall woman from her podium.

Clutching the sides of the armrests Alcina’s face slightly drops as she answers, “It’s Natasha. She caught me in bed with another and got rightfully upset.” Her usual confidence was now replaced with a utter depletion.

Miranda lets out an amused hum. “I see. Anyone would be upset if they caught their partner sleeping around. But I’m sure you’ll be able to charm her back into her good graces. Hopefully she hasn’t kicked you out of your bedroom.” She adds before chuckling. The others stayed silent not joining in on her joke.

“I don’t think so, Mother Miranda. I probably won’t ever see her again.” Alcina responded with a choked sob.

“Whatever do you mean, child?” Miranda asks and Donna could hear the undertone of venom in her words. A shiver went down her spine.

“She’s…Natasha has left the village. She brought a plane ticket back home a few days ago, I reckon she’s already back in America with her family.” Cutting her eyes to the ground the countess shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She hated being put in a bad light, especially from Mother Miranda. She was supposed to be the perfect child after all.

For a few seconds Miranda didn’t speak and everyone could sense the anger rising up.

“You allowed your wife, who has the same power as you, to leave? Have you lost your ever loving mind?” Miranda shrieks before bursting into feathers reappearing in front of Alcina.

“Mother Miranda please! She snuck out when we was all asleep, my daughters alerted me and they tried to bring her back, but you know how Natasha is, she’s very good at outsmarting people.” Alcina says looking at the black god with pleading eyes.

A choked sob escapes from her lips as the cloaked woman grabs the countess by the throat pulling her in closer to her masked face.

“So she was able escape from your so called excellent huntresses of daughters? And she was able to pass the barrier without getting mauled by the lycans? I knew that woman was trouble from the moment I first laid eyes on her!” She sneered.

“Why would it matter if she left the village anyway?”Heisenberg asks as he watched from his seat. He may have hated Alcina but even this was going too far and making him uncomfortable.

Turning her head towards him still gripping Alcina’s throat Miranda’s cold eyes bore into him through the mask.

“Don’t you see boy? If the villagers hear one of the lord’s partners has fled it’ll give them the idea to try as well. It’ll put us all in a bad light and we cannot afford to lose the villagers’ devotion to us. It’s one thing for it to be some random foolish human to make an attempt, but this was the partner of a lord, they’ll start questioning our leadership. It doesn’t help that you couldn’t control her.” She snaps at Alcina.

“What can we do, Mother?” Sal asks, trying his best to get some form of approval from the black god.

“We’ll find her. She’s been gone for only a few days before my return, correct? That means she could possibly still be in Romania. And even if she is in America, I have my ways to locate her.” She says releasing her grip on Alcina’s throat as she sputtered and gasp for air. She faced Alcina with determination in her eyes.

“You are the cause of this little fuck up so you’ll fix it, have your daughters go out into the nearest towns and cities. If you have any form of contact with her family reach out to them. Do whatever you need to do to get her back here.”

Leaning in close Miranda whispers, “If you don’t it’ll be you and your entire bloodline’s demise. “ She sneers before turning to face the others. “You will also find her, report back to me on your findings. I’ll join in once I have fully recovered from my trip.”

Strutting back to the podium she gives the lords one last look. “I hope one of you find her before I do, I can’t promise she’ll return in one piece.” She adds chuckling darkly before erupting into crows.

They have been dismissed.

For a moment none of them got up immediately, too disturbed by the black god’s clear threat. Beside her Alcina quietly sobbed in her hands, chest heaving. Donna wanted to comfort her, to try to calm her down, but she had to get back to the house and fast. She had to make sure Natasha was okay. Perhaps she made a big mistake of trying to keep her here within the village. But she will do whatever in her power to keep the woman safe from Miranda’s wrath.

Even if she died trying.

Whew this was a long ass chapter, but things are heating up now. I hope you enjoyed. Also I tried to have it where they weren’t too mean to Sal 🥺

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #natasha dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x female reader #lady dimitrescu x oc #donna x reader #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x oc #re8 oc #re8 alcina dimitrescu #re8 miranda #mother miranda #re8 karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau

[heisenberg-simp257]

Hello hello! Requesting Karl Heisenberg x f!reader where she brings him to one of alcina's yearly balls after begging alcina nonstop to let him attend and they get all dressed up, karl with his hair slicked back without his hat, In a Grey suit (or any color really) and the reader is just standing there gawking at him until her snaps her out of it and they head to the ball together, him teasing her on the way.

Maybe when they get there they don't really dance and watch the others dance before them, but near the end when most are done dancing and going about the ball mostly spread out, Karl would take the readers hand and lead her to dance?

Somewhat like this?

Sure!💖 I’ll do my best and I hope it’s acceptable!

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The Night of The Ball

You have a magical night with Heisenberg when he’s finally allowed to attend one of Alcina’s balls.

“Why do I even want to go?” Heisenberg said while he looked in the mirror, hating everything about his appearance right now. You, who was not far away with your back to him, just giggled.

“Because I’ll be there...and don’t get me started on all the begging I had to do to get permission.” You said as you slid a flowy white dress over your figure. Then you made sure each part was hugging your curves correctly, doing your best to keep things modest.

So, here’s the story of what’s going on.

Set many years before Rosemary Winters was even a thought, Miranda and the four lords ruled over a living village. There was plenty more people than what we saw, and the lords were less cruel. Alcina Dimitrescu held yearly balls to keep high morale within the place. Usually, it’s ladies and other higher elites that are allowed within her castle. The other lords, excluding Miranda, were not allowed. 

Donna came one year, and the doll show told Alcina that it would be the last year she ever showed up. 

You were always invited and each time you tried to persuade the lady of the castle to allow your lover, Lord Heisenberg, to attend with you. Obviously, she hated the man with all her being, so it took so much pleading and begging until she finally gave in.

That, and you promised to help her clean up the ball when it was over.

However, her conditions were simple. He had to behave, dress appropriately, and converse with NO ONE other than you. You knew that Heisenberg would say that this was bullshit, as he did when you told him the news, but he really can’t say no to you when you start to pout.

“I’m sorry about that...fucking bitch.” He said sincerely before muttering out that last part towards his “sister”. You laughed a bit as you went to a small bedside mirror, looking at your hair and makeup. 

“Get that out now...she’ll kill both of us if you cuss at her doing the event.” You said with a shake of your head. Heisenberg merely scoffed. After a few minutes, you smiled at your reflection. Your hard work resulted in a beautiful young woman. 

“How do I look?” You heard his voice ask in a depressing manner. As you turned around, you were stunned by the man you saw.

Heisenberg was actually wearing a suit. One that was grey in color that he no doubt bought from The Duke at quite a price. You knew he owned nothing like that in his wardrobe. His hair was more cleaned up and slicked back, with his facial hair also being cleaned up a bit. The dark frames he usually wore were nowhere to be seen.

“Say something dammit.” He growled with a flustered expression when he realized you were just standing there and gawking at him. You blinked a couple of times, closed your dropped jaw, and tried to swallow back the redness in your cheeks.

“You look absolutely handsome.” You complimented him sincerely, which made him even more flustered. He just waved you off, clearing his throat slightly as he reached for his hat. 

However, you were quick to snatch it away from him.

“Do you want to ruin your whole outfit?” You asked him in a motherly tone, causing him to huff. You knew how badly Heisenberg wanted to hide under his hat, but tonight was not the night for that.

“You’re right. Can’t make you look bad.” He said after a while, winking at you after he looked up and down at your dress. You blushed profusely as you threw his hat into the corner, causing an outburst from him.

However, after a little squabble later, you guys were off.

“While the dress looks great on you...I know you would look even better without it...” He said slyly to you. As for you, you swore that you’ve heated the snowy outside with how red your face is. 

Heisenberg hasn’t stopped teasing you since you guys left.

You couldn’t blame him. After knowing the man for a while, it was obvious that his way to boost his confidence when he was feeling insecure was to tease you relentlessly, so he had the higher ground. It usually worked, and usually you would do it back to him, but he was so out of his comfort zone right now that you just let him have this victory.

When you guys reached the castle, the lady herself greeted you. However, as was with her wishes, she hardly spared you guys any words or attention besides opening the door to her estate.

“Lady Dimitrescu.”

“Lord Heisenberg. Lady L/N.”

These were the only words that were exchanged, and you have to say that you were quite pleased that Heisenberg held his tongue. However, as he looked around at all the fanciness, you could tell a million thoughts (some probably not too nice) were running through his mind. You would probably get to hear them all later tonight.

However, it was clear to see that he was getting a bit overwhelmed, so you guys hung out in the back. But the gorgeous fireplace, the bright chandelier, and the people who were all dressed up and dancing made you long to go out and do the same.

But you knew Heisenberg would not be up for that, considering the fact that he was indulging himself in some of Lady D’s exquisite wine.

You guys would talk, him whispering some remarks in your ear so others wouldn’t hear, resulting in a red face from you. But you caught him watching the dancers as well, wondering how people could even move like that. You were wondering the same thing, but you knew that you would be just happy in his arms, not caring if the steps were right or not.

Soon, most of the dancing seemed to fade. The people who were owning the floor have begun to spread out, making the open space much more breathable. However, just as you accepted the idea of not dancing, you felt your hand being pulled. Looking up, you saw that Heisenberg was dragging you out towards the open floor.

“What are you doing?” You whispered at him in shock.

“I don’t fucking know.” Was his quiet response. Some wandering eyes glanced over, Alcina as well, who nearly dropped her wine glass when she witnessed who was about to dance. 

Obviously, neither one of you knew what to do now.

Heisenberg grabbed your hand in his, the other finding your waist as your open hand went for his shoulder. Now, the hard part would be the movement. The two of you stepped in sync, surprising, for the most part. Swaying here and there to the gentle music. He looked content, focusing on you and you alone.

Then you accidentally stepped on his foot.

“Ah fuck it.” He muttered before moving his hands, one behind your back while the other went for under your legs. You squealed as you were lifted up bridal style.

“Karl! What are you doing?” You whisper-shouted at him as your arms went for around his neck. He simply grinned at you, that familiar cockiness returning.

“This is my solution to keep my toes safe.” He told you as he continued to twirl around with you in his arms, your dress flowing about. You were embarrassed at first, but the longer he kept this up, the more you enjoyed it.

In fact, you came to rest your forehead against his, which had the dance end in a kiss. Short and polite for such an event.

The night ended so magically, and you never expected such actions from the metal man who lived in a factory working with dead bodies. But tonight, you felt like Cinderella. In fact, Alcina was so impressed with his behavior, that she already said it was alright for him to come back next year.

“You enjoyed yourself?” You asked him on the way back. Heisenberg wrapped an arm around your small shoulders.

“More than I thought in this monkey suit.” Heisenberg muttered, returning his attention back to the outfit he would never wear if he had a choice. You just giggled, a hopeful look in your eyes.

So...next year?”

“Absolutely fucking not.” 

Don’t worry, you have a whole year to convince him. 

#resident evil #resident evil imagines #resident evil village #resident evil village imagines #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine

[saintsofwarding]

BURIAL

Chapter 8

(You really think this one's gonna up and do what you say?)

"Shut up."

(That's not very nice, Donna)

"Bold of you to say that."

(Am I wrong? Look at her. Creeping through our house. Heavy and clumsy and full of so many fluids! Ohhh, she's a curious one, Donna, a curious little mouse, and you know what happens to mice around here)

"Don't you hurt her. If you do, this time, I'll-"

(You'll what? Say it. Say every terrible thing that's been festering so long in the black pit of your skull. Go on. You can't, can you? That's up to me, isn't it? I can do it, I can always do it, so you don't have to)

A cackle, ringing through the damp gloom.

(You did so much already. Poor little Donna. All alone once the silence came back in)

"Shut up, shut up!"

(And if I did? Would you be able to survive on your own? Little Dolly Donna, quiet as a mouse. You'd go insane with the weight of it. Well. Insane-er)

"Shut up!" She rushed forward with a howl, agonized, scraping up her throat; she tasted blood, felt her ruined face writhe in agitation, the fleshy pulse fast as her racing heartbeat. She gripped Angie's neck as the doll laughed and laughed and laughed, echoes ringing through the darkness until it sounded like she was surrounded by a hundred more of her, a chorus of cackles jabbing and tearing at her like crows' beaks.

She couldn't take it. She stuffed her fingers into the doll's mouth as far as they would go. Angie's teeth scraped at her knuckles- real teeth, real human ivory, milk teeth like a baby's- but the laughter went on and on. Of course. It always would. It didn't come from the doll, not really. It never did.

(Don't hurt me, Donna! You can't! You know what happens if you hurt me-!)

"I could do it. I could crack you open, smash you all over this floor-"

(Is that what you said the first time? Is this how it went?) The voice almost sounded frightened, almost hushed. Donna's hands began to shake. (You see? You can't survive alone. You can't. Donna, please, see reason. You need me. I need you)

The rage left her all at once. She slumped in a rustle of black fabric. The cold of the stone floor began to seep into her knees. She didn't cry. Her head hung. A puppet on strings. Her grip slowly loosened on Angie, and then she gathered her to her, suddenly, pulling the doll to her chest and hugging her as hard as she could.

Cold fingers stroked the sides of her face as she shook, rocking back and forth, feeling the faint warm pulse within Angie's head against her throat. A match to her own. Like it always was.

(I need you)

***

Peace had once been a church. An altar, a gilded portrait, kneeling in reverence to light candles before Mother Miranda's most holy and beloved icon. The knowledge, simple and unspoilt, that Elena was protected, that her father was protected, her neighbors, as long as they did what they were told. As long as they stayed obedient, their afterlife would never come to harm.

And how could it, when the Black God remembered all things in its infinite dream? It had been of comfort to Elena, after her mother had died, that she was remembered by the Black God, that one day Elena too would join her in that endless dark, comprised of everyone she had ever known and ever loved. That whatever pain would come to her, she would always have that to look forward to in the end.

And now?

Not peace. Never fully. Not when her father was held hostage by her obedience, not when she'd seen the horrors that lurked in this place. But the house seemed out of time, adrift, and there were days when Elena almost forgot to be afraid. Days of polishing tarnished silverware, or clearing snow from the porch, or of working in the garden, or listening to records, turning the gramophone volume high to allow the music to reverberate through the halls.

Days with Donna Beneviento somewhere in the house with her, mostly unseen but, at last, present.

She never removed her veil. Never went anywhere without her doll, Angie, the thing always perched in the crook of her arm, or sitting near her on a chair, or opposite her while she worked, and talked to it. Sometimes Elena overheard- well, listened, to be honest- entire one-sided conversations with Angie, Donna murmuring to her endless monologues about the weather, about the food, about Donna's projects, her dolls and her knitting and her intricate botanical illustrations done in ink and watercolor.

Elena liked to examine these when Donna wasn't in the room, liked to follow the exquisite lines of the drawings with her eyes like a maze in a puzzle-book, letting her eyes unfocus so the illustration became a chaotic blur of color and line, then focus again, allowing it all to make sense. They were beautiful. Everything Donna made was so beautiful.

They worked together when night fell, and it fell so early up here. The days shortened, Donna gradually spending more of her ever-lengthening evenings with Elena. They rarely spoke more than a few words to one another, but it wasn't awkward, wasn't unnatural. They simply sat in silence unless Donna had a question of aesthetics- "Yellow floss or white? Border it in black or leave it loose? What do you think?"- or Elena needed the definition of a word in a book she was reading. While she'd been well-educated enough, some of Donna's library was so esoteric she hardly understood what the books were even supposed to be about. Histories of people she had never heard of, waves of conquering invaders, a pagan people ensconced within this valley, beset on all times by distrustful neighbors, kings conducting rituals of sacrifice and enlightenment.

And Elena slept through midnight. Donna, it seemed, was done with her weeping. For now, anyway. Maybe she was wrong.

Maybe the monster really was gone.

Elena knew it was never good to hope, but she did, still, clinging on past reason, like she had such a tendency to do.

***

The blizzard having, for the moment, retreated, it became necessary to take the opportunity to get hold of more food. A mundane concern, but necessary- Elena didn't want to have to make do with canned things if another snowstorm hit unexpectedly. Donna had the same idea.

"My usual delivery will be on its way," she told Elena. "I put the flag up in the ravine."

"How do you...?"

"Get it to the house? You wouldn't mind doing it, would you? I have so much work to do."

What work, she didn't say. But Elena took the enameled box full of neat stacks of lei, the delivery list, and Donna's directions past the estate gates and set off through the pale gray mists. The day was white on white, pale sky, pale snowdrifts, only the vague shadows of trees to cut the sensation Elena was moving through a strange, echoing world, empty of all life except for herself.

The sound of eerie cries echoed from downslope- the direction of the castle, she thought, though she couldn't make out its spires through the thick clouds. She passed through the gates and to the bridge posts. It swung before her, buffeted by the light breeze, each creak echoing down and down through the ravine. Far below, she heard the by-now familiar sound of rushing water. A faint icy spray spackled her cheeks, numbing her already-cold face.

She made her way along the cliffside. For a while there was only trees, snow, and the edge, but eventually a shape swam up before her and consolidated into a structure, a single lantern hanging from a hook. A dock, as if for boats, but built right onto the edge of the cliff. A winch was built into it, and hanging from it on stout ropes was a large wicker basket. It swung back and forth, big enough to hoist a cow. A crank arm in the basket and on the winch told Elena its purpose. She peered down and saw an identical lantern glowing below. A black pennant snapped from a pole, sewn with the moon and sun, and behind a nearby tree a handcart waited under a tarp.

Elena figured this was hardly the way, but she needed to talk to someone from town. She clambered into the basket- it began to sway alarmingly back and forth, but didn't tip, it was nice and deep- and grabbed onto the crank arm, giving it a good push. Gears ground, and with the faint crackle of rust the contraption kicked into movement, and she glided downward.

The crank had a little horseshoe stamped into it. Had Lord Heisenberg made this? He didn't seem the type, though he did have a workshop in the village. Elena had never seen him use it, but no one went there all the same, and kept the gates well locked. Lords, however holy, tended to bring monsters with them.

Donna, too? Her most of all, Elena had to admit, though hardly the monsters she'd expected.

She still felt a sense of disbelief when her mind inevitably turned to Donna. She's Lady Beneviento? She's one of the great Four Lords? It didn't seem quite right, didn't quite add up. She kept waiting for Donna to grow teeth- so to speak- but as the week had stretched to two, then to three, and winter tightened its grip on the manor and its grounds, she never saw more than what had already made itself seen. Never saw more than a lovely, lonely young woman.

The lower lantern grew closer and closer, and soon a second dock came into view, built on the banks of a rushing river seamed with whitecaps. A boat rose and fell on the rapids, engine chugging for life. The man aboard gave a little start when he saw Elena, and whisked off his cap.

"Begging your pardon, Miss Lupu," he stuttered. "I...there's never a person what comes down in the basket."

"First time for me, too, Cosmin." He was one of the reservoir workers, usually busy trawling the deeps for flotsam scavenged from the sunken village, drowned years ago by an accident with the floodgates. Elena gave him a smile. "I thought I'd come down with it. Say hello."

"We...well, I'm glad to see you alive. We all thought you were dead, see."

Elena blinked. "Not yet."

"Good. That's good."

"How's my father? And Andrei? Are they all right?"

"Last I saw them. Your pa was out feeding the chickens and that boy was bothering him like he wanted both his ears."

Elena laughed. Heat pushed at her eyes and she hurriedly scrubbed them with the back of her hand, shaking her head. "Sounds right to me. Good. I...listen, Cosmin, I'm here for Lady Beneviento's delivery, but...would you bring this letter to them?" She held it out. "So they know I'm all right too."

"Of course."

"Good." She looked at the crates and sacks in Cosmin's boat. "Now I suppose this is what you really came here for?"

Loading took less time than Elena expected, with two pairs of hands at work. Soon the basket groaned under the weight of supplies and Elena was cranking it skyward, the mechanism hardly strained by the increased weight. She looked back down. Cosmin lifted a hand in farewell. Elena returned the gesture, but she wasn't sure, in the mist, if he'd seen her.

We thought you were dead.

That was how it worked, she saw. Once the villagers were chosen, they were dead, even if they still breathed. Because it was far too dangerous, far too unlikely, to hope otherwise. Better to usher them out with festivals and ceremony, with feigned gratitude and fervor, instead of grief. That way the inevitable death to come would never seem quite real.

But to be killed by Donna Beneviento? Loading the supplies into the handcart, Elena gave her head a disbelieving shake. Donna was weird, yes, sometimes inscrutable, sometimes almost childlike with her rhymes and her little tantrums, but she wasn't monstrous. She wasn't a nightmare.

This wasn't a nightmare.

Movement stirred on the far side of the bridge. Elena straightened, tense, in case it was one of those winged creatures that sometimes circled from the direction of the castle, a racket of leathery flapping and distant screeches, like some vast bird of prey. The reality was little better. He stood in the snow, smoke twining up from beneath his hat brim, hammer over his shoulder. There was no way he didn't see Elena, but Lord Heisenberg didn't acknowledge her. He just stood there, watching her, smoking, the scent of cigar smoke bittersweet on the still, cold air.

Doesn't he have anything better to do? He'd spoken about Donna with a strange mixture of contempt and fear, hadn't gone past her gate before. But on the riverbank...honestly, Elena didn't remember the events on the riverbank with anything close to clarity, but she remembered his use of Donna's name, the familiarity with which he'd addressed her. They were a family, holy and united, according to the books of the Black God Elena had listened to each week in church, so of course they would know one another above all others.

Still.

Elena didn't approach. He didn't move. Elena gave the handcart a shove, teeth grit as she heaved it and all its cargo through the snow and onto the road. She felt his gaze on her back for a long time, until the trees and the mist closed over him and he was gone again, left to the far edge of the ravine.

"You nearly had a visitor, today," Elena told Donna once the supplies were all cleared away. "The great Lord Heisenberg."

Donna stiffened. "What did he want?"

"I don't know. He didn't cross the bridge."

A soft exhale. "He never does."

"Why not? Don't you all confer with one another?"

"Mother calls meetings, which we all attend. Twice a year. That is when we take care of the business between us, officially."

"And...unofficially?"

Donna said nothing. She stood, silent, then all at once left the room in a swish of skirts. Music blared minutes later- the gramophone, played at full volume. As Elena did her nighttime chores, the music played on, complex symphonies and simple piano nocturnes and tunes for which she had no name all played one after the next without cease. And when Elena joined Donna in the sitting room to sew and mend and chat, the gramophone was off, and Donna mentioned nothing of it, nor of her visitor, not all that evening, nor the next day, nor any of the days after.

The next time Elena went down to the bridge- an evening free of chores, when the sky was a rocket-fall of colors like a festival skirt- the far edge was empty.

She checked for days on end, but Lord Heisenberg never returned.

Those weeks seemed almost like a dream, almost shameful, as if Elena had stolen them from time. She was healthier than ever, stronger than ever now that she was eating regularly and had access to such better quality food. No stones in the grain, not in Donna's bread, and the meat wasn't half gristle like the stuff left over from the village tithes. And more than that, her mind felt clearer. Cleaner. She'd seen so much more than she'd ever thought possible, had stepped past some invisible limit and into darkness. It was full of terrors, sure, but she couldn't help but feel a glittering thrill at the newfound unknown. The newfound horizons, not only of the world but of herself. Her own mind, her own thoughts.

There was something else, too, some undefinable change to her face. A fading of the dark bruises under her eyes, a softening of the hollow stare she shared with most people in the village. Once, she might have called it impassioned, but she now recognized it for what it was: starved.

Here, she didn't have to be hungry, or afraid of the lycans she heard howling from the lower slopes of the mountainside.

Here, Lady Dimitrescu wouldn't come a-hunting for her in the night, red grin and skin like a corpse's, made young again by a steaming goblet of fresh-spilled blood.

She didn't have to walk for hours through knee-deep snow in the hopes of sighting a single skinny rabbit, or listen to her father wheeze in the early morning when he thought she couldn't hear him.

I'll come back for you, Pa. Her hands clenched on her mending. I wish I could bring you here. The air would do you good. I wish you were safe. I wish all of you were safe. Oh, saints, oh, saints, when she thought about him, about the look in his eyes when she'd left him, it felt like she would burn, or burst, or tear her own skin off.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't right.

But it was the way it was and Elena had no idea how to stop it, even how to slow it, and caught up in these simultaneous realizations she froze, hands hooked into claws, heart hammering, paralyzed with terror and with rage. Miranda would eventually figure it out. She'd know, if Elena went on feeling this way.

Miranda always knew.

And then-

She couldn't help but admit there was curiosity amidst her fear. And hunger. A new kind. Not just to survive, but to discover. This place was not done, yet. The question of Violeta, where she'd gone and who she was to Donna, remained unanswered. And this house, this mountaintop, severed from the rest of the world, its only connection a single, thin bridge clinging to a cliffside- when she pictured it, Elena saw a jewel-box, dusty and elegant, filled with gems and with hidden needles, sharp enough to draw blood.

Something deep inside.

The picture was incomplete. Blurred. She needed to bring it into focus. That was the only way forward.

But how?

The basement had to hold the answer. But Donna had warned her away from it, and somehow Elena knew she'd figure out if she had disobeyed her and went down there again. Many times she stood before the elevator grille, holding the brass key, telling herself go. Go. Who are you loyal to, anyway? The shadow keeping secrets from you or the Black God's prophet herself, keeping you safe all these years?

The answer should have been easy. Would have been, once. But always Elena found herself walking away, leaving the elevator behind.

***

One such time, she opened the door that led from the elevator room and into the kitchen and almost ran right into Donna.

"Oh!" She looked up, big tin box in her hands. She'd been rummaging through it. "Drat."

"What's the matter?"

"I can't find it." More rummaging. "I had such a beautiful packet of red silk embroidery floss. It was a gift from Mother."

"Your mother? Lady Beneviento?"

A pause. "No." A longer silence. "Mother Miranda."

"Oh."

"She adopted me. After..." Her words ground to a halt, her body stilling, too. Elena thought of a clockwork automaton the jolly merchant had once brought to some springtime market. He'd whisked off its velvet covering to reveal the torso of a little boy rendered in gleaming silver, clockwork find as beetle wings visible in the seams of its joints.

It had held a pen poised over a blank sheet of vellum, and when the merchant turned the key sprouting from the boy's back and wound him up, he sprang to life, fluidly writing out a bawdy poem onto the thick paper. But when the poem reached its end, and the mechanism wound down, and down, the silver boy's movements became jerky spasms, then stilled altogether, his glass eyes open and staring, all life gone.

The other children watching had clapped and cheered, and Elena had joined in as the merchant smiled and bowed and accepted their coins, but later that night she lay awake, staring into the corners, unable to close her eyes in case she'd see that boy again, see the way he shuddered into stillness. A thing alive that should not be.

"The dolls helped me act it out," Donna whispered. Behind her, at the table, Angie rustled; an echo of ghoulish laughter hissed through Elena's mind. She didn't look. "They stood around me. In a circle. One-two-three and then they all fell down."

"Act what out, Donna?"

A little shiver. She looked up. "Red silk," she said. "A present from my mother. Will you help me find it, please?"

"Donna, are you-"

"Will you help me? You said you'd help me before. Please will you?"

"I- yes. Uh- where did you see it last?"

"I thought it was here. But this is just buttons." She shoved the tin back on the shelf. "I think...maybe the attic? Or in the downstairs storage room...I'll look in the storage room if you look in the attic."

"There's not-" Elena took a breath. "Are there any surprises in the attic?"

Donna looked as aghast as someone could without their face actually being visible. "Good gracious no!"

Elena gave her a look.

"No," Donna pressed. "I'll give you one of my personal favorite special biscuits if you look in the attic."

"I don't respond well to bribes."

"Two biscuits."

"Done."

There was a flashlight in a kitchen cabinet, on the top shelf, so furred in dust Elena was half afraid it wouldn't work. But it clicked on and shone well enough, so, after untying her apron and arming herself with a broom, Elena made her way up the stairs and down the short hallway to the trapdoor that apparently led to the attic. She knocked down the ladder and pulled the light cord, but this one didn't work, and the square of darkness breathing cold and dust down on her remained absolute.

Elena clenched her jaw and climbed up the ladder, poking the broom handle through first and rattling it around in case any ghouls were lying in wait for her head to come up. She didn't want to lose any eyes or parts of limbs today. Nothing happened, so she climbed all the way into the attic, coughing at her first inhale full of dust.

She clicked on the flashlight and shone it around. The weak beam played off endless stacks of cardboard boxes, rolled rugs and broken lamps, a rack of moldering old clothes, a jointed dressmaker's dummy spattered in dark liquid. It stretched on and on, a maze of detritus and black mold and endless dust, shockingly-mundane.

Elena groaned. Of course Donna wanted one packet of embroidery floss. Why couldn't she have needed...dunno, an old chair or...or a piano? Both were there, the piano the more interesting of the two, shoddily clothed in a slipcover that left its keys exposed. Elena stood and went to it to press down a key, the antique ivory yellowed as bad teeth. The note twanged into the darkness, discordant and sour.

It faded as Elena faced the mess again. This place was as chaotic as House Beneviento below was neat. There was no obvious form of organization so she crept forward, stepping over boxes and buckets and old shoes, making her way toward a faint glow near the back. A window, she realized, a half-moon fan of stained glass so thickly-coated in dust it was almost rendered opaque. It would be gorgeous if it was clean, the glass all shades of deep midnight-blue and pale gold. Moons and suns, she noted. Again.

She drew the tip of her finger down the dust, clearing a stripe from the glass. Through it she made out the front gardens, the cliffside below. She was looking at the entrance to House Beneviento from above. This must have been the uppermost middle of the house, the very furthest away from the basement she could get. She could see the roofs, too, missing many of their slate tiles, a couple crows' nests clinging to the gables and turrets.

In the distance, amidst trees, she made out the glint of another roof- it looked like an outbuilding, somewhere in the direction of the gardens. A groundskeeper's hut, perhaps. The mountainsides looked beautiful from up here, cascades of blue-green pine trees sweeping down from great runs of untouched snow.

The urge seized her to throw the window wide, to bring the clean mountain wind into this still, dusty place. Would the window open? She found a latch, but it was fused shut. Maybe with some grease, some cleaning. She'd have to come back later.

Turning round, she nearly stepped on the dolls. She flinched back with a gasp, but they didn't move or jump out at her or start giggling. One was tipped over, but the rest were still in place, half-hidden behind an old steamer chest with a lantern set atop it. The chest was dragged out, away from the wall, forming a kind of nook with an old bookshelf and a rack of antique silk ballgowns.

The dolls helped me act it out, Donna had said.

Four dolls. Dark-haired, dressed in little gowns or harlequin ensembles, melancholy faces staring into the dust. Black mold dripped down their cheeks, like tears. They'd been up here a long, long time.

Elena stepped around the chest and knelt by them. There was more, she saw- a moth-eaten tartan blanket, rumpled as if someone had been sitting on it. A stack of books. A china plate with crumbs on it, and an old teacup, a sticky dark rime clinging to the bottom. A collection of dried petals was scattered around the skeletal remnants of a flower sprig in a vase. Maybe, Elena fancied, they had once been yellow.

A playhouse? She could see this as being an ideal hideout for a child. With the window, the old things, the darkness, it felt disconnected from the rest of the house, the rest of the world. With a little imagination it might be a treehouse, a cave, a ship full of heroes of legend, questing boyars hunting for the strange monsters of these pagan mountains, like she'd read about in Donna's history books. She tapped the dolls on their heads, lightly.

"One," she whispered, "two, three. Four."

The last doll lay face-down. Two others faced away from it, but one of them, a little girl doll in a black dress, stared at her fallen companion. Two dolls. Two girls, holding hands. To Claudia, love always.

So Claudia was Donna's sister. And she was dead. Elena thought of the big grave beyond the gatehouse, the dolls, the sweets, the candles.

A burial, for one beloved, a long time ago.

How old must Donna have been? Not very. Elena's throat tightened. Poor thing. Poor, poor girl. To lose a mother was bad enough. To lose a sister, a companion close to her own age, the only other child in this lonely place...she couldn't fathom. No wonder Donna didn't speak to anyone, isolated herself. A loss like that at a young age was like a blow to a developing bone. It left its marks, even when the healing seemed to be done. After that must have been when Miranda adopted her.

Why not adopt both girls, after their parents' deaths? She wished she could ask the dolls themselves. After what she'd seen it would seem like no unnatural thing for them to start chattering back at her.

But she thought she had an answer, or part of one, anyway. We all must play our part, Miranda had told her, back in the village church. Elena knew what that meant. We all must have a use. Or we become useless.

And then, like a rotten limb: cut off.

Had those two Beneviento girls been, at first, a useless commodity? The last scions of a dying family, left to die alone in this house that had become a tomb? But Donna Beneviento hadn't proved useless. She was a Lord, possessed of miraculous power. One of Miranda's chosen.

Right?

Oh, she didn't know. She rubbed her temple and rose, brushing the dust from her skirt and taking up her flashlight again. The dust was making her head ache. She turned, rummaged through some boxes, searching for anything that looked like embroidery floss. She found some old magazines, some dead insects, a taxidermied deer head with an extra eye swelling from its cheek, but no sign of floss.

There was a collection of old paintings leaning against a wall. She pulled one back to peer behind it in case the floss was hiding back there.

And stopped still. Even her breath shrank to a whisper between her teeth.

A face stared back at her, enclosed in an ornate gilt frame. A woman's. So pale the artist had rendered her in grays and pale greens, dressed in high-neck black with jet buttons, her hands set, gently, on the skirts of the bride doll in her lap.

A finger of light from the dusty window touched the paint, illuminating one of the woman's high cheekbones. Her black hair was pulled back from a heart-shaped face, lips set in a slight smile, dark eyes canted upwards at the corners. Fine-featured, poised, arresting. On one glance she seemed sweet, earnest, and on the next she became arch, that enigmatic smile slightly sneering. But whatever the look on her face, there was no mistaking her.

This was Donna, under the veil.

She was so beautiful. "Why hide this?" Elena whispered. She knelt before the painting, reached out, stopped, took a short breath. Her heart clattered against her ribs, a caged bird. Her fingertips trembled.

There was no one here to see.

She brushed her fingertips along the line of Donna's painted cheek. Along the loose strand of hair, falling from her fringe, as if she might tuck it back into place. Along her lips, as if she might feel their warmth, as if she might feel, for a gutless moment, the smoothness of them, the way they might feel against her own skin.

Elena withdrew her hand. Her head swam. Her whole body panged, electric, all sensation both distant and too-bright, too-strong. She knelt there and breathed, drinking in the portrait, every detail of her lady's hidden face.

Then she stood. She leaned the portrait back into place, got her flashlight, and retreated from the attic, closing the trapdoor behind her.

Donna was gone from the kitchen. Elena found her in the front hall, gathering up a large handbasket and a pair of shears.

Elena licked her lips. "Did you find the floss?"

"Oh!" Donna looked round. "Yes! It was in the storage room after all. Silly me. How was the attic? Any surprises?"

"...No. Where are you going?"

"This?" Donna held up her basket. "I must gather more herbs. For the medicines and chemicals I use in my work." "May...I come?"

Donna looked at her sideways. "I was hoping you might."

"I'll just be there to hold you accountable. I was promised sweets, you know."

"You're sweet enough already," Donna said, with a laugh, and mercifully turned away before heat flooded Elena's face, enough she knew she'd be a red, stuttering mess. She hurried to grab her coat and scrub her face and drink some water to cool herself down, half-afraid Donna would be gone by the time she got back.

She wasn't, and together they set out into the clear winter day, walking side-by-side, Angie nestled like a baby in Donna's basket.

Donna headed not down toward the gardens, but took a left, slipping between two rock crags and onto a path Elena had not noticed before, a thin trail wending upwards through the forest that descended down the mountainside to nearly encroach upon the manor grounds. The waterfall thundered somewhere amidst the snow-mist, great plumes of icy spume glittering in the sunlight. They ascended a short flight of stone steps chiseled into the path, worn-down and slick with ice. A rope handrail was bolted into the rocks, which didn't reassure Elena much.

As they turned a bend, Elena saw what they'd been climbing toward. Another red gatehouse, paint chipped and faded, a studded oak door leading, seemingly, straight into the mountainside itself.

"Where are we going?" Elena called over the sound of the falls.

"You'll see. Stay close," Donna said. She unlocked the doors with a chatelaine she produced from somewhere in the folds of her skirt.

Inside, the thunder of the falls faded to a vibration underfoot. The passageway echoed ahead, a natural stone cave reinforced with wood beams. Donna unhooked a lantern from a hook and lit it, the shivering light illuminating the cave some thirty feet on.

"Follow me," Donna said, and began ahead. Elena did as she asked. The darkness was full of the sound of water, the steady dring of it from the ceiling, rivulets trickling over the flagstone floor. After a few minutes of silence, of climbing flights of steps, of long passageways of nothing, she began to notice the niches along the walls, the black roots twining from cracks in the walls. Candles stood in the niches, burnt down to puddles of wax. Stacks of lei, too, and dried flowers, and chunks of crystal, like offerings given to the warding-saints.

Is this a holy place? The priests spoke of the inner sanctum of the Black God, and Elena had herself seen the ruins that surrounded the town, filled with the snarls and howls of lycans come night but safe to walk in during the day. Painted with images of the saints and glorified by shrines to Miranda and the Black God, they had the same still, reverent air as these hallways. But there were no images here, no shrines, at least not in the way Elena was familiar.

"What is this place?" she whispered, not wanting to break the hush. Her voice chased her anyway, echoes at her heels- is this place, is this place.

"There was once more to the Beneviento estate, Elena. Much more. My family...the family I had before Mother Miranda adopted me has been in these mountains for a very, very long time. Since the days of Berengario."

"Who?"

Donna paused at a fork in the passageway, then took the right-hand path. Elena memorized the intersection on the off-chance she'd have to make a swift exit. "We didn't always live here, in the valley, you know. Once there was a great crystal city, far, far underground. Such magnificence. Spires to scrape the skies, and living gemstones, and rivers of light, bright as the sun through stained glass. There was no hunger there, no pain or suffering. Paradise. But there came calamity, a terrible apocalypse, and the crystal city was sundered. Broken. Swallowed whole by the earth that had for so long embraced it. And all good things were lost."

She lifted her head in the darkness. "So the four kings of the city led their people from their shattered paradise and into the dark and the cold of the world beyond. One of them was Berengario. They say it was his cleverness that convinced the Black God to help their people. His words painted wonders of worship and the Black God lifted its power and made the valley. A safe place for the refugees to live."

"It made the valley?"

"That's right."

"How?"

A soft laugh. "I don't know. I wasn't there. It was a very long time ago. Thousands of years." She paused. "Before Miranda."

"Before- wait. No, Miranda has always been here. The Black God's chosen, that's what she says."

"She says a lot. Whispers a lot. But I've kept books from her, locked them away where she can't find them. History books, of the wars that shaped the valley, drew its borders. And she's not in them. She only comes later."

Elena let out a laugh of disbelief. "I...I don't know..."

"It's true. Maybe not the crystal city. That might just be a story. But it's a nice one. Can you imagine a place without hunger...without sadness?"

"No." Elena paused. "That's what Miranda wants, for this valley. A perfect place for us, one where everything is useful."

"Miranda wants many things," Donna said, so quietly her voice was almost lost amidst the echoes. "A perfect place for us is not one of them."

Elena looked sharply up at her, but Donna didn't say anything more.

They were winding up, and up, and up a long, corkscrew set of steps. The atmosphere had changed as they climbed, the air becoming softer, the darkness tinged with gold. Sunlight came into view, shining down from a narrow slit window above. They rounded another turn and came face-to-face with a rickety wooden door, chained in place with a padlock. Donna unlocked it and gestured Elena through.

She stepped from stone, and gloom, and echoes, and into sunlight, dense and warm on her upturned face.

The snow had melted here, the mountainside given over to the falling sunlight, and away and away, as far as Elena could see, spread an endless field of grass and wildflowers, swept by the wind like her glimpse of the sea. On and on, rhododendron and edelweiss, gentian and dianthus, countless flowers clinging to stony soil, cut by the glimmering thread of a few small streams flowing from some higher, hidden source. A few craggy upthrusts broke the surface of the grass, the remnants of old towers and stone walls, crumbling and wind-chapped and weathered by centuries of storms. They would be the first to feel it, up here, the first to drink the rain, to feel the sun.

Elena's mouth was open in naked awe, the wind pricking tears from her eyes; the wind rushed, and tore her hair from its pins, and filled her lungs, harsh and thrilling, full of the taste of ancient ice, of growing things, of a wild place far from the reach of the world.

She watched Donna step into the grass, parting it. She was the sole spot of black within the landscape of sun and grass and stone, but she wasn't a hole in the world, she was the focus, the linchpin. She waded into the knee-high field without hesitation, and Elena could do nothing, after a moment, but follow.

Through the grass, to the base of one of the ancient towers. It shadowed the landscape, one of many; the clouds moved across the sky, their great slow shadows rippling over the liquid expanse of the field. There were no rooms left, no halls, just the decayed echoes of what had once been buildings, but as Donna bent to the wall Elena saw the tangle of deep red plants growing there, heart-shaped leaves nodding in the wind.

"How do they all grow?" she asked, her voice hushed. "It's winter. Shouldn't they all die in winter?"

"I help them stay alive." Donna clipped them with the tips of her shears. "Take one..." she began. She placed the sprigs in the basket, leaving the rest of the plant in peace. "...And leave the rest to grow."

"What does this one do?"

"Many things. Poisons, cures. It all depends on how you treat it." She bent to the next plant, harvesting it with a few deft snips of her shears. "Want to try a leaf?"

"Trying to poison me? Are you sick of me that soon?"

"No," Donna said. "Never."

She moved on, and, eventually, silently, gave Elena a second set of secateurs. Elena fell into the rhythm of the work, her eyes soon sharpening to the bright spots of red amidst the shadows of the ruins, the heart-shaped leaves with their scalloped edges, their undersides like velvet. A sharp, spicy scent rose from them when they were cut.

Inhaling it, Elena's head swam, her mind drifting to distant places, to candlelit rooms, to glimpses of dark skies blazing with stars. There were other herbs, too, green ones with a scent almost like peppermint, and even blue ones, their leaves edged with a color so vivid it mirrored the sky. Each one seemed like its own small wonder, perfect and complete, the natural denizen of this impossible place.

And, later, she and Donna sat together in the lee of an old stone wall, sheltered from the wind, heads tilted back to watch the clouds move across the sky.

"I think I found what you sent me to the attic to find, after all," Elena said, after a long silence.

Donna didn't speak.

"I think I understand, now. About Claudia. You couldn't tell me about her. So you showed me." She paused. "Thank you."

"I wasn't strong enough to tell you."

"Are you now?"

"Yes." Silk rustled as she shifted. "She died."

Elena turned her head to look at her. Again, that glimpse of her profile through the silk, the shape of the nose she now knew, though had never truly seen. Of her full mouth, which she at once longed to see smiling, really smiling, full and sweet and true.

"She was my sister," Donna went on. "My younger sister. My only. I was five when she was born. And, oh, she was perfect. My mother doted on her. My father too. He even stopped making his dolls and puppets to spend time with her. And I...I slept by her cradle so I could listen to her breathing all night, so I could see her first thing in the morning when I woke up. And she grew, and she was so...right, so good...not right for this place. For that house. I always knew she was special."

She paused.

"And so did Miranda," she went on. "She came to us when Claudia was three. She wanted to give her the gift, even then. But she said she was too little. That she would come back. My mother...she was so afraid. But I didn't see what was so bad. When is a gift bad?"

When it comes with a price. But Elena didn't say anything. She suspected Donna already knew that.

"Mother Miranda wanted her," Donna went on. "And what Mother wants, she gets. She returned when Claudia was six, and by then she was sure. But let her grow, she told me. Let her grow a little longer. Like a flower in the sun. And Claudia was so happy, so honored. I tried to protect her. I tried. When Mama and Papa, when they...they fell..."

"Oh, Donna," Elena murmured.

"We weren't bad daughters. We weren't. That couldn't have been why. I saw them." She paused. "They jumped. Claudia cried. But I still had her. I still had her..."

Her voice faded.

There was more, Elena knew. And that was where the wound was, the real wound, the one that had made her. The one she was so afraid of, locked herself away from. The horrors she still could not face.

"Well," Elena said eventually. "You have me."

Donna turned her head so they looked at one another. "I do," she murmured, and reached out, and trailed the back of her fingers over Elena's cheek, her touch soft and warm as the afternoon sunlight, and just as keenly missed once it was gone.

***

That night, Elena woke not to the sound of weeping, but of music.

She reached for her shawl, paused, then reached for the green velvet dressing-gown in all its decaying finery and belted it over her nightdress. She left her hair loose, falling in waves and tangles down her shoulders.

She left her room and followed the music to the front hall, where it poured from the old gramophone player, filling the darkness with the warm hiss of its sound. Soft, meandering piano. It made her think again of the wind through the grass, the cloud-shadows and the sky. One minute it became melancholy, the next discordant. The next, unbearably sweet.

Donna stood by the gramophone, her hand poised on its casing. She looked up to watch Elena come down the stairs and stood at their foot, breath held, waiting.

Waiting.

Not for long. Donna lifted her hand.

"Do you dance?" she asked.

#resident evil village #re8 #re8 fanfiction #re8 fic #donna beneviento #elena lupu #karl heisenberg #mother miranda #donna beneviento x elena lupu #donna beneviento x oc #re8 oc #angie beneviento #claudia beneviento #gothic romance #gothic horror #resident evil #chapter 8

[ctitan98official]

Miranda Priestly x Designer Y/N part 2

So, this is the second part of a Miranda Priestly x Y/N drabble where Y/N is a designer doing their first photoshoot at Runway. Read the first part here! This is more from Miranda’s perspective. Let’s get into it!

Miranda had actually been having a good morning. The girls were doing well in school and were excited for an upcoming recital. Miranda smiled as Caroline and Cassidy told her what they planned on playing.

She was also looking forward to seeing a new designer today… That was was quite unusual, though. Most up and coming designers were arrogant and full of themselves. Miranda had no time for egos, she had a magazine to run.

Miranda had handpicked this designer, Y/N L/N, after seeing their work at a recent fashion show. Their work was bold, but clean and well-crafted. She was certain they would be the new face of fashion. And she was never wrong.

While Miranda and Y/N had not met personally, Miranda had seen them come out and be applauded at the end of the fashion show and they were… Good looking to say the least.

Why was she so entranced by this person? She had never felt anything like it. She decided she would just have to mask her attraction with disinterest when she saw them today.

——————————————————————————

Miranda walked into the photo studio and had to deal with unprofessional and rude models, her good mood from earlier had dampened. It seemed the dragon needed to make an appearance.

“My makeup looks horrible! Someone needs to do it again!” One model whined to a makeup artist.

“Perhaps it is the canvas that is the problem and not the artist.” Miranda quipped in her cool voice.

“What did you say to me?” The model spit. She was less than intimidating and resembled a petulant child. She needed to learn her place.

Miranda’s blue eyes hardened to an icy glare as she assessed the sneering woman. “That’s all.” She said and flicked her hand dismissively.

A Runway employee quickly walked the stunned woman out, but she tried to protest.

“You’re just gonna fire me like that?!” She yelled over all of the noise in the room.

Miranda just scoffed and walked away. She had work to do.

The shoot was supposed to be at 10:00, but with strict instructions for Y/N to arrive 15 minutes early. As 10:00 came and went, Miranda was actually a bit concerned for Y/N. She knew that they would be missing a huge opportunity for their career and she hated the thought of them not taking their chance… Wait. Why was she worrying about some designer who hadn’t even paid their dues yet? Hell, she had never even met them.

Miranda decided to go back to her office with the excuse that she had unrelated work to attend to (But she really just went to see if she could find a contact number for Y/N).

About 5 minutes of unfruitful searching later, Miranda was informed by an employee that Y/N had finally arrived. She felt relieved, but quickly donned her ice queen persona and made her way to the studio.

Miranda approached the room and noticed someone talking with Emily and Nigel. It must be Y/N. She felt an unusual bout of butterflies, but she shook it off as she got closer. Nobody would see her flustered. Ever.

Y/N was holding a hand to their forehead… Was that blood?

“Could I get a bandaid?” They asked Nigel and Emily.

Wow. That voice was… Something else. Miranda was not expecting such a smooth and velvety sound.

Miranda was entranced and decided to play with Y/N a bit. Much like a predator and its prey. Y/N would be too easy to embarrass.

“Ten minutes late and you are making demands?” She says. “Thrilling.”

Y/N quickly turns around and Miranda almost melts at how cute they look. Young and fresh-faced. Y/N looks so innocent with those big eyes. She wants to reach out and tend to Y/N’s injuries, (Was that why they were late? Poor thing.) But, she calms herself and looks at Y/N with feigned disinterest before pulling Nigel aside to go over the shoot.

Miranda feels deep satisfaction as she looks over and realizes that Y/N is still staring at her in awe while she and Nigel talk. She inwardly laughs as she listens to Emily rattle off the list of things Miranda will not tolerate to Y/N.

Y/N looks terrified, but Miranda knows they’ll do great.

Nigel picks up on Miranda’s softness for Y/N. He’s good. “So, that’s an interesting little ruffian you’ve managed to find. Thinking of keeping them?” He gently teases.

Miranda rolls her eyes at her friend. “Drop it, Nigel.” She bites out.

Nigel raises his hands in mock surrender before going to talk with the photographer.

Miranda once again looks over to Y/N and their eyes meet. She feels a spark of exhilaration as Y/N tries (And fails) to check her out discreetly. Maybe she should keep Y/N around. She hasn’t had this much fun on the job in years.

Masterlist

#miranda priestly #the devil wears prada #dwp #miranda priestly x reader #devil wears prada #emily charlton #nigel kipling #meryl streep #emily blunt #stanley tucci #miranda priestly x y/n #y/n is stupid

[n0vadroid]

From Strangers to Soulmates

Gogo entered her uncle’s bar and sat down. 

“Hey, Gogo. What brings you here? I told you that David was back from his trip, so you didn’t have to fill in for him anymore,” Ken said.

“I know, I just thought that it would be nice to come here since I don’t have any clients or classes today. You know, kinda like a self-care day,” Gogo replied.

“Oh, I get it. By the way, how’s-”

“Babe, what have I told you about leaving your wallet laying around? Anyone could just take it and run off-” Avani stopped herself once she saw Gogo. “Gogo, hi! How are you?”

“I’m doing good. How are you doing?” Gogo asked.

“I’m great. We’re celebrating our two month anniversary tomorrow, so I’m excited about that.” Avani then linked her arm around Ken’s. “Ken says that it’s a surprise.”

“Sounds like you have something to look forward to. I hope you two enjoy your day tomorrow,” Gogo said.

“Thanks, I hope so too. Ken here tends to be…romantic.” Avani then cupped Ken’s cheek. “You know, babe, I never did get to thank you for yesterday.”

Ken gulped. “Y-you don’t have to worry. It was a date, so I wanted to pay for you.”

“I know but I really want to repay you somehow,” Avani said with pouty lips. 

“Well, next time, you can pay if you want-”

“No, not like that.” Avani then leaned up and whispered something into Ken’s ear.

Gogo watched admiringly but awkwardly as the couple was being…well, a couple. After Avani whispered into Ken’s ear, Ken’s eyes widened and his face turned red.

“So! I’ll see you later, yeah?” Avani then kissed his cheek. “Bye, Gogo.”

“Bye, Avani.” Gogo then looked at her uncle. “What was that about?”

Ken cleared his throat. “W-what do you mean?”

“Well, your face is red and your eyes are wide,” Gogo explained.

“Oh, t-that. Avani just wanted to tell me to…go to her place because…she’s cooking me some, uh…rice!”

“Rice?” Gogo asked.

“Yes, rice! It’s really good rice! She always makes it for me and it’s better when it’s fresh, so yeah. Heh, heh.” Ken scratched the back of his head.

“Oh. But why did she have to whisper it?” Gogo asked.

“Uhhhh…” Ken looked around frantically. “I need to go..get my wallet! You heard what Avani said-see you later!”

Ken then rushed to the back and left Gogo hanging out front. Gogo figured out what they were talking about, so she just let him be.

David walked into the bar and spotted Gogo sitting down. He immediately went over to her.

“Hey, Gogo,” David said while approaching Gogo.

Gogo turned her head. “Hi, David. Welcome back. How was your trip?”

“Fun. But my family was more than friendly.” David went behind the counter and sat his stuff down. “How are you, by the way?”

“Good. Though I’ve been spending a good amount of time alone lately because Miranda’s in Paris with her girlfriend,” Gogo explained.

“Oh, really?” David asked while taking off his jacket.

“Mhm. Natalie’s supposed to be proposing to her, but Miranda doesn’t know. It’s a secret,” Gogo mentioned.

“Wow. They’ve been together for four years now, so…”

Their voices faded out as they continued to talk to each other.

Part 3