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zer0pm · 11 months

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Imagine working your first night in the village tavern and serving a drink to a man you catch sitting by his lonesome. He accepts your kind gesture and engages you in conversation. You didn’t realize you were talking to Lord Heisenberg until it was too late.

“Got a tall one with your name on it.”

The silver-haired man simply glances up at you from his seat, bright eyes switching between your smiling face and the full mug you’ve placed in front of him. The bored expression he wore previously relaxes into that of mild intrigue.

“I didn’t order that,” he says, amusement in his deep voice.

You shrug casually, “It’s on the house.”

When he didn’t say anything right away, you proceeded to explain yourself. “Barkeep mentioned you haven’t ordered anything since you got here. I figured I could spot you a round. Hope you don’t find it rude.”

To your surprise, the man chuckles, returning your patient smile with a toothy grin. “Can’t tell if you’re brave or just straight-up fucking strange. But you are definitely interesting, I’ll give you that.”

You tilt your head curiously, unsure of what to make of his comment. Perhaps, this stranger is one of those lone wolf types that rarely engage in social interaction. However, that didn’t seem correct. He seemed more like the type that enjoyed talking, if not just to hear the sound of his own voice. He has such a distinctive voice too, you found, the rich baritone hitting strings inside you that sent shivering notes tingling down your spine. You shudder not out of fear or anxiety, but out of genuine fascination.

The stranger takes the mug you’ve put down for him in one of his hands, lifting it by the handle and bringing it to his lips before tipping his head back. It gave you an opportunity to look him over. As you suspected, he is large in build. Burly and robust but not overly ripped in muscular definition. He looked strong and undeniably imposing, shaped by hard, laborious work. You imagine that if he wasn’t holding the mug at its handle, he could wrap his thick, calloused digits around the cup with ease. The loose shirt he wore had the sleeves rolled up, exposing several wiry scars that adorn the back of his hands and forearms. They varied in length and size, barely faded by time, and matched the old wounds that ran across his rugged face.

Questions danced upon your tongue on how he got his scars, but you thought better of it and bit them down. He looked different from the other men you’ve seen in the village and had a unique air about him too, one that you would be able to immediately spot in a busy crowd. He was quite handsome, in a rough sort of way.

The man must have noticed you staring for when you brought your eyes back up to his, he was already looking right at you. His bright gaze remained locked onto you even as he sets the drink back down with a quenched sigh, a devilish tongue swipes the excess liquid from damp lips before withdrawing behind wolfish teeth. The ends of his mouth tugs upwards, putting his canines into full display. The damn man is smirking again and his eyes had a knowing, teasing gleam to them. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, you bowed your head to hide the embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

Suddenly feeling incredibly shy, you take a step back. “I-I’m going to see to my other patrons, then. If you need anything else, just-”

“What’s your name, buttercup?” He cuts you off. There is an edge to his tone, as if daring you to move from your spot before him.

Buttercup? He’s giving you a petname? Is it derogatory or is it a genuine term of endearment? Either way, it made your face burn hotter.

Overwhelmed with the need to answer him immediately, you gave the stranger your name without a second thought. He repeats it in a low, slow drawl as if testing and savoring the sound on his tongue. Your heart picks up speed and you spoke up again in a futile attempt to calm the rapid beating.

“What’s yours?”

Like flipping a switch, the air between you two suddenly shifts. The wide smirk he wore falters and his brows furrow. These few words seemed to have disarmed him as the grey-haired man beholds you with a piercing glare, searching your face for any signs that you are joking or something. You could do nothing but stare back, balancing on the balls of your feet nervously. When he found that you were sincere in your question, he grasps his bearded chin thoughtfully.

“Intriguing,” he comments, his expression deeply pensive. His reply didn’t relieve any of the tension you were feeling and you wondered if you somehow offended him for not knowing who he is. “Are you local?”

Unable to fathom where his line of questioning was heading, you decided that it was best to answer him honestly as you have been doing thus far. “Uhh, yes, of course. Born and raised. Although, I’m not from the immediate area, if that’s what you mean.”

A thick silver brow arches. “So, I take it you’re not the religious sort, then.”

You shake your head. There was no helping the guilt taking root inside you. Clearly this man thinks that his identity should be apparent to you. Thinking about it, he does look sort of familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. You wished then that you paid more attention to the people around you in the weekly sermons.

“Not really,” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “I rarely went to church. Not that I don’t follow the black faith, mind you. I just have other priorities. Life can be hard in the village, you know how it is.”

When he didn’t comment on this, you followed up with your own inquiry with the intention of making polite conversation. He mentioned religion, so…

“Are you a pastor?” That seemed like a logical thing to ask. But surely if he was leading the mass, you’d have remembered him right away. Maybe you simply missed each other in passing. You can’t shake the feeling that you do know him somewhere.

A bellowing laugh erupts from his throat. The man bends over on his seat, banging the wooden tabletop with a clenched fist as zealous humor consumed him. You didn’t notice that the rest of the tavern went completely quiet at his spontaneous outburst. When he finally sits back upright, he was in tears.

“Damn, you’re adorable!” He sighs deeply, his grin wide as he wipes the water from his eyes. “Do I look like the kind to give fucking sermons, buttercup?”

Again with the petname. You weren’t bothered by it this time. If anything, you took the lighthearted turn in the conversation as a good sign, pleased to see that the man looked like he was enjoying his time with you. Even at the expense of your embarrassment.

Deciding it best to play along, you returned his good humor with a playful smile of your own. “Looks can be deceiving.”

He scoffs, “Can say that again. Guess not everyone in Miranda’s herd is a sheep.”

You didn’t quite register that. “Excuse me?”

His hand waves off your question dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You…”, the grey-haired man leans back against his chair, his lopsided smile bordered on teasing. “You get to call me Karl.”

A surprised hum escapes you, you didn’t expect a man so interesting to have such an ordinary name. Thankfully, he didn’t seem offended by the involuntary sound. Remembering you had a job to do, you throw him a courteous nod.

“Nice to meet you, Karl. I really should check on my other customers. Is there anything else I can get you?”

He casts you a playful look, “Are you on the menu?”

Although you were standing still, you nearly tripped over on the spot and tried to save face by quipping back. “Ha ha. Think you’re so smooth.”

Karl shrugs, reaching for the mug once more and inspecting the contents lazily. “I prefer to be rough. But no, I think this will do. For now.”

Your brain shut down after “rough” and you were quick to retreat back to the bar, ears turning red upon hearing his knowing chuckle as you created distance. So distracted by the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you that you failed to realize that the usual hustle and bustle of the busy tavern was completely void of sound. A loud bang of what sounded like someone slamming their hand against the wood harshly is all that it took to bring life back into the room and the patrons returning to their own devices. This somehow went under your notice too. You did not regain your wits until the barkeep you were working with for the night snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“Oy! New blood! Didn’t I tell you not to bother that one?” he reproached you. Was that panic in his eyes?

You blink back at your distressed coworker. “If it’s about the free tankard, I’ll foot the lei. Everyone else looked like they were having a fine time besides him. That didn’t seem right to me.”

The frantic man shook his head fiercely, “Whether or not he is enjoying himself isn’t any of our business. He could very well be plotting his wrath upon this establishment for what you did!”

The excitement that was bubbling within you before is now replaced by confusion. “Why would Karl do that? Who is he?”

The barkeep’s face falls into that of pure shock. “Are you completely daft!? He’s-”

He chokes. Suddenly, his expression pales to an alarming shade of white. From the corner of your eye, you spot a large shadow looming and felt an imposing presence from your side.

You turn your head to see the man from before standing next to you. But this wasn’t the Karl that you spoke with earlier. He had the same face but wore more clothing- more distinct articles of clothing that made you freeze on the spot upon recognition. Afterall, who could ever miss the signature dirty trenchcoat, or the dark, round glasses, or the well-worn hat of Lord Heisenberg himself? Who dares not recognize one of the four nobles that rule over the village with an iron fist? Evidently you.

He didn’t meet your eyes right away, instead he had a deathly glare directed right at the barkeep who was now quivering in his boots. “Because I’m in a good mood,” the lord began, voice descended into a low growl, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear what you just called my new friend.�� Lord Heisenberg then looks down at you behind black lenses, his demeanor shifting from threatening and terrifying to playful and pleasant.

His smile returns, seemingly wider than before, likely because he knows that you know who he is now. “Thanks for the drink, buttercup. I’ll see you real soon.” He pushes his shades down the bridge of his nose, winking at you before tipping his hat in an exaggerated head bow. With heavy footsteps, he takes his leave, not giving a second glance.

Your eyes followed him and lingered on the door he went through long after he left. There was a deafening silence. It filled the tavern for what seemed like an eternity before it was broken by the clanging of the metal tray you once held in your hands.

The lord of steel was here in the flesh. And you were talking to him so carelessly. And he was flirting with you so shamelessly. This was not how you expected your first day on the job to go. And he declared he intended to see you again.

You’re in deep trouble…

#heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg imagine #karl heisenberg #resident evil 8 #re8 heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #sorry it’s been awhile #took a little break #I will get back to our dashing Spaniard #but wanted to post for the trash can #please enjoy #writing for trash magneto was a challenge #heisendaddy #my writing #Zer0PM imagine

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ctitan98official · 3 months

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Donna’s still learning how to text

Donna and Y/N: *Having a romantic dinner*

Y/N: Babe, do you know when I first fell in love with you?

Donna: *Giggling bashfully* No, tesoro. Was it when you first saw me?

Y/N: Nah. It was when I texted you that Mother Miranda had fallen down the stairs and you replied “LOL”.

Donna: *Blushing* I already told you, Y/N! I thought it stood for “Lots of love”!

Y/N: *Snorts* Either way, I need a woman who can make me laugh, babe. *Grins*

Donna: *Glares at them* Y/N…

Y/N: *Cracking up* Okay, okay, sorry.

Donna and Y/N: *Both look down at their plates and eat silently for a few moments*

Y/N: Be honest, though. Once you found out it meant “Laugh out loud” Would you still have sent the text?

Donna: …

Donna: Yes 😌

Y/N: You’re perfect for me.

Masterlist

#donna beneviento #re8 #re8 village #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x y/n #resident evil village #resident evil imagines #resident evil 8 #resident evil #re8 incorrect quotes #re8 shitpost #y/n is stupid

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buryustogether · 1 year

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the den of the wolf

karl heisenberg x f!reader

summary: karl voices his concerns about your safety now that he’s taken you as his lover.

word count: 1.6

warnings/tags: implied sexual relations, nudity, swearing

author’s note: anyways…

Any other woman would have run from him. Would have cowered in his shadow and trembled at the sound of his voice, would have prayed for forgiveness for whatever they could have done to earn his fearful wrath. They would have ducked their heads as they passed him, lowered their gaze in hopes he would walk right past them to wherever in hell he was ambling off to. He was terrifying, the most powerful Lord of the village who only showed his face when there was a debt to be collected or revenge to be extracted.

Any other woman would have run from him. Any other woman would have feared for her life.

But you did not. Instead of running, you stayed. Instead of ducking your head, you lifted yours to meet his gaze. Instead of praying for his gift of forgiveness, you embraced his wrath and accepted everything about him wholly.

The others down in the village said you had lost your mind to wander so close to a Lord’s heart - if they had them. They said you were not long for this earth any longer, that he would eventually lure you into that churning factory of his and devour you whole until you were nothing more than a piercing scream upon the air. No one held the Lord’s eye as long as you did, spoke to him as you did, without placing a target on their back.

You were insane, they whispered amongst themselves. To entangle yourself with the business and likes of Lord Heisenberg was plain suicide. Throwing oneself off the cliff near the edge of their perimeters would have been less painful. You could not be saved, and you were to be grieved. Your death would come swiftly, yet would be prolonged and slow and torturous. Everyone knew he enjoyed playing with his food.

Their murmurs were unable to penetrate the thick layers of snow covering the factory, the walls and the floors humming and warmed by the constant thrum of machinery down below. Their rumors were not welcome here, not within the workspace, nor the large bedroom protected within the heart of the giant machine. They did not wake you where you slept within the den of the feared wolf of the village, legs bent and arms drawn to yourself as you faced the edge of the mattress.

What did wake you was the slight shifting of clothing and the scrape of a chair against the ground. Your eyes opened to be met with the hazy picture of the window across the room, the sill piled high with pockets of snow. The next thing you took note of was the trembling ache that enveloped your body entirely - most persistently at the apex of your thighs. Your veins thrummed with exhaustion, limbs sore and neck bruised with littered love bites left there by sharp canines and insistent teeth.

The events of the previous night washed over you slowly, like an ocean’s ebb. A shot of adrenaline shot through you. You had shared a bed with a man for the first time - and not simply any man. Lord Karl Heisenberg himself. He’d touched you and felt you and made you sing such lovely songs for him until he knew your body better than herself. And then you’d fallen into this endless pit of darkness, your only purchase to the real world his hands upon you and his fingers carding through your hair and his chafed lips upon your face.

And here you lay now, in his bed, wrapped in his covers with his claim upon you still drumming through your body. You exhaled a sigh and blinked heavily. You felt content to sleep the day away here, enveloped in his scent and his feeling.

But the spot beside you was empty.

You mustered up what strength you could find within yourself and shifted over slightly. Your lover sat at his desk against the far wall, head ducked and his hand jumping as he scribbled upon pages with a pencil. His hair was secured up with a strip of leather, shirt unbuttoned and crumpled from the night prior.

Licking your lips and attempting to wet your dry mouth, you spoke softly. “Karl.”

Nothing short of enraptured by just your voice, his head lifted and he turned in his chair to look back at you. Even from here, you could see the stars dancing in his irises, the shadows and creases and specks of light that danced upon his face. He studied you for a short moment, wild strands escaping the leather and framing his whiskered jaw, before exhaling deep and climbing to his feet.

His knees cracked when he stood, a testament to just how long he had been tromping the grounds of the village down below. He was - because he said it was too much work to keep track any more - at least one hundred fifty. His mutations allowed him to outlive the world around him until there was nothing left but himself and his regrets. If there was any mercy left in the world, you would be there with him when the time came.

Karl let his weight come to rest on the mattress, then leaned over to gather you up in his arms. You marveled at his raw strength despite the small huff he gave upon settling you in his lap. The muscles in his arms flexed when he lifted you, the bit of pudge on his lower stomach tightened. When he relaxed again, holding you tight to himself spread across his thighs, he tucked your forehead against the warm nape of his neck and petted your hair.

Your could sense within the soft ticking and whirring in his chest something was the matter. You could barely keep your eyelids open, but you still implored, “What is it?”

He said nothing at first, but you knew your words struck him deep, because his grip around you became tighter and the petting of your hair became slightly rougher. His beard scratched your forehead slightly as he grumbled, “Nothing you need to worry your pretty head about.”

You blinked a moment. How foreign it was to hear a Lord of the village calling you pretty, holding you this way, with your bare chest pressed against his and your faces so close. “If it bothers you,” you murmured, “it bothers me.”

His chest jumped slightly with a gentle chuckle, one that you felt reverberate through your body. Your grip on him tightened; his on you, as well. “You are a nosy little villager, aren’t you?”

You said nothing, waiting expectantly.

Finally, he caved with a sigh that fanned across the shell of your ear. You shivered, and he reached down to pull a blanket around your shoulders. He said, choosing his words with the same care he placed into his projects, “Miranda can’t know about you. About… this.”

“I expect your mother would be happy you’ve taken a woman as your own,” you joked and smiled into his neck. “You would be the first of the Lords to do so.” Your grin faded slightly as a troubling, thunderous thought entered your mind. “That is, if… if you’ll still have me that far into the future.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His words drove themselves into your chest like bullets as he pulled you up and held your face, bare hands warm against your cheeks. He gazed at you as if you were the solution to every problem he had, and it nearly brought tears to your eyes. He touched his forehead to yours, an action so gentle and unlike his usual gruff demeanor. He said, “I’ll always want you. I’ll always have you.”

You pursed your lips. You could drown in this sensation - of being wanted, and wanting just the same in return.

But that same downcast, almost saddened expression melted over his features again. “If she knew about you, she would take you away from me. Do things to you I couldn’t live with myself knowing happened.” His lips twitched. “That’s what mothers do, huh? Take away their brat’s toys when they misbehave.” One of his hands brushed your hair from your face, sliding a thumb across your cheek that left tingles in its wake. “You have to stay here, sweetheart. Where I can know you’re safe. And warm. And out of that bitch’s hands.”

“Okay.” The answer came so swiftly it nearly surprised the both of you. There came no hesitation or thought over it. There was no need. You lived by yourself in the village; you had no one to look after. And the other villagers thought as much of you as a begging dog at the foot of a king. You had nothing to leave behind.

And the idea of at last being eternally close to him at all hours of the day, no matter the time… it coursed your heart with a sense of pride and joy and love.

“Yeah?” he said, as if he needed one more confirmation to hear what you truly said.

You nodded your head once, resting your hand on the back of his neck so that your foreheads touched once more. “Yes,” you murmured. “Wherever you want me, I’ll be there.”

There came a moment of stillness between you, in which Karl’s throat bobbed slightly and his brows twitched as if they ached to draw together. Instead, he tipped his head and connected his lips to yours, grasping you tighter than he had even the prior night.

You were his now, and he, yours.

No one was going to take you from him.

No one.

#karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg imagine #heisenberg x you #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re village #re8 village #heisenburg x Reader

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caitlynmeow · 2 months

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As much as Donna loves her she can be stern when needed and it always works on this wild child.

#house dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil village #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident lover #donna beneviento #resident evil 8 #re8 #headcanon #cass being scared of her soft spoken auntie will never fail to amuse me #bc donna does have a scary side not even this daredevil is ready to face #she'd rather be in her auntie's good graces instead of facing her wrath #imagine donna calling your full name like this #good thing cass is smart and she knows when to back down from her bullshit

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horeformilfs · 4 months

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An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind

Alcina Dimitrescu x Fem! Maid Reader

TW: Blood, Violence, Anger, Mention of Eating Disorders, Angst

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The imposing doors of Dimitrescu Castle creaked open, heralding the return of Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. As the tall, elegant figure made her way through the grand foyer, the echo of her footsteps reverberated through the vast halls. The atmosphere seemed charged with an unspoken tension.

Y/N, the head maid of the Dimitrescu household, stood in the dimly lit corridor, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns on her apron. She had spent the entire day managing the affairs of the castle, all while pondering the peculiar absence of Lady Dimitrescu's usual morning presence.

When Alcina swept into the dining room, her daughters, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela, were already seated. Y/N approached them, her eyes searching for an explanation. "Where is Lady Dimitrescu?" she inquired, her tone respectful yet tinged with concern.

Bela, the eldest of the three daughters, looked up, her gaze meeting Y/N's. "Mother left for a meeting with Mother Miranda before dawn," she replied, her words carrying an air of indifference.

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion. Alcina had never left without informing her, especially for matters concerning Mother Miranda. It left a subtle ache in her chest, a silent question lingering in her mind.

Throughout the day, Y/N carried out her duties, the silence of the castle amplifying her contemplations. Her mind replayed the moments leading up to Alcina's departure, searching for a reason, an explanation that remained elusive.

As dusk settled over the castle, the heavy wooden doors groaned once again, signaling Lady Dimitrescu's return. The air seemed to thicken with an unspoken tension as Y/N caught a glimpse of the anger etched on Alcina's face.

The tall woman's steps were sharper, more forceful than usual, as if carrying the weight of unresolved frustration. Y/N, ever attentive, approached with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "My Lady, is there anything you require?" she inquired, her voice steady.

Alcina's eyes, stormy and unforgiving, met Y/N's. "You should have known better than to let things fall into disarray in my absence," she reprimanded, her tone cutting through the air.

"I assure you, Lady Dimitrescu, everything has been overseen meticulously today," Y/N responded calmly, her gaze meeting Alcina's unwaveringly. The tension in the room seemed to escalate with each passing moment.

A scowl etched itself deeper into Alcina's face, her anger palpable. "Do not presume to speak back to me, maid," she hissed, the words dripping with disdain. Y/N, however, stood her ground, her patience waning.

"Forgive me, my Lady, but I won't stand idly by while unfounded accusations are thrown my way," Y/N retorted, her voice steady, yet an undertone of frustration lingered.

Alcina's eyes flashed with an intensity that bordered on fury. "You dare to challenge me?" she exclaimed, the sharpness of her tone cutting through the air.

Y/N's irritation reached its peak, and she snapped, "I only speak the truth, Lady Dimitrescu. If there's an issue, let it be known so I can address it."

The confrontation escalated, each word exchanged adding fuel to the growing inferno. Alcina's daughters, drawn by the rising commotion, entered the main hall with concerned expressions, their eyes shifting between their mother and the head maid.

Bela spoke up, "Mother, what's happening?"

Cassandra added, "Why are you arguing with Y/N?"

Before Alcina could respond, Y/N, fueled by a mix of frustration and confusion, uttered something that struck a nerve. Alcina's eyes flared with a dangerous intensity, and in a moment of unbridled rage, she unsheathed her claws.

The metallic sound echoed through the hall as Alcina swiped at Y/N, leaving a searing trail of pain across her face. Y/N stumbled backward, a scream escaping her lips as she clutched her injured face.

The daughters rushed to Y/N's side, their expressions a blend of shock and concern. Alcina, her claws still unsheathed, stood there, stunned by the gravity of her actions.

"What have I done?" Alcina whispered, the realization of her hasty actions sinking in. The once imposing figure now seemed vulnerable, and regret flickered in her eyes as she looked at the consequences of her unchecked anger.

Bela, her expression marked by concern, handed Y/N a cloth to stem the bleeding, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sympathy and disapproval. Cassandra and Daniela exchanged disapproving glances with each other and then turned their attention to helping Y/N to her feet.

"Let's get you to your room," Cassandra suggested, her tone filled with empathy.

Y/N, still processing the shock of the incident, shook her head. "No, not our shared room. I want to go back to my old room."

The sisters exchanged a glance, a hint of worry flickering in their eyes, but they respected Y/N's wish. Together, they guided her through the dimly lit corridors to the room she once occupied before her relationship with Alcina.

Once inside, Bela took charge, helping Y/N clean the wound with a gentle touch. Y/N remained silent, her mind overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events.

Bela, breaking the heavy silence, spoke softly, "It's going to be okay, Y/N. We'll talk to Mother about this. This is unacceptable."

Cassandra nodded in agreement. "She can't treat you like this. You deserve better."

Y/N, still in shock, whispered, "No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have pushed her."

The sisters exchanged glances, their worry deepening. Daniela spoke up, "Y/N, this isn't your fault. No one should be treated like this, especially not by their partner."

Bela added, "You're Alcina's girlfriend, and she shouldn't have reacted that way. We'll make her understand."

After ensuring that Y/N was settled in her old room, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela left her to rest and made their way to their mother's quarters. The atmosphere within the castle was thick with tension, and the sisters were determined to address the issue at its source.

As they entered Lady Dimitrescu's room, they were met with a sight that caught them off guard. Alcina Dimitrescu, the formidable mistress of the castle, sat on the edge of her bed, her usually composed demeanor shattered. Tear stains marked her face, revealing a vulnerability the daughters rarely witnessed.

Alcina looked up, surprise and concern crossing her features. "What happened? Why are you all so upset?" she inquired, her voice strained.

Bela, her frustration evident, spoke up first. "Mother, we need to talk about what you did to Y/N."

Cassandra added with a stern tone, "She's hurt, and it's because of you."

Daniela, her expression mirroring her sisters', continued, "Bela managed to stop the bleeding, but we won't know the full extent of the damage until it heals. Mother, this is not acceptable."

Alcina's eyes widened, a mix of guilt and realization settling in. "Y/N? What did I...?" Her voice trailed off as the weight of her actions sank in.

Bela crossed her arms, her anger evident. "You attacked her, Mother. With your claws."

Cassandra's gaze remained unyielding. "She doesn't deserve to be treated that way. No one does."

Daniela, her voice stern, concluded, "We're furious, Mother. This isn't how you should handle things."

Alcina, realizing the gravity of her actions, lowered her gaze. "I didn't mean to... I was angry, and I lost control."

Bela's tone remained firm. "That's not an excuse, Mother. You need to fix this."

As the hours passed, Alcina, wrestling with the weight of her actions, mustered the courage to approach Y/N's old room. The grand halls of Dimitrescu Castle felt eerily silent as she reached the door and tentatively knocked.

A hushed, broken voice emanated from within, "I don't want to talk right now, Alcina. Please, just give me some time."

Alcina's heart sank at the sound of Y/N's quiet plea. The usually strong and composed head maid now sounded fragile and wounded. The reality of the situation hit Alcina with a force she hadn't anticipated. She respected Y/N's request, understanding that she needed the space to process the events that had unfolded.

"I understand," Alcina responded, her own voice carrying a mix of regret and sorrow. The door remained closed, a physical barrier reflective of the emotional distance that had suddenly grown between them.

The Lady of Dimitrescu Castle, with a heavy heart, turned away from the door, leaving the corridor shrouded in a somber atmosphere. Her usually confident strides now carried a hint of hesitance as she retreated, realizing the depth of the damage she had caused to the bond with the person she held dear.

As Alcina disappeared down the corridor, the echoes of her footsteps mirrored the echoes of the shattered trust between her and Y/N. The castle, once a symbol of grandeur and strength, now harbored the lingering traces of a fractured relationship, awaiting the healing touch of time and understanding.

A few weeks passed, each day stretching into a monotonous routine of solitude for Y/N. The door to her room had remained closed, a silent barrier against the outside world. One day, a soft knock echoed through the chamber, drawing her attention.

Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela stood on the other side, expressions carrying a mix of concern and determination. "Y/N, we have someone here to take a look at your injury," Bela informed, her voice gentle yet resolute.

Y/N hesitated, her gaze fixed on the floor. "I don't want to see Alcina," she replied, her voice a whisper.

Cassandra assured her, "It's not her. Please, just let them in."

Reluctantly, Y/N opened the door, allowing the sisters and an unexpected guest to enter—Mother Miranda. Y/N's eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and anger, her resentment towards the woman whose meeting had set off this chain of events palpable.

Miranda, her demeanor composed, spoke with a calm authority, "I've come to check on your injury, Y/N. May I?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Miranda approached, examining the scar that marred Y/N's face. The questions she posed were gentle, yet Y/N's anger simmered beneath the surface.

As the examination progressed, Miranda's expression shifted subtly, revealing a somber realization. "The injury has started to scar over, but I'm afraid the vision in your right eye has been lost," she disclosed, her words hanging heavily in the air.

The weight of the news struck Y/N, and tears welled up in her eyes. The daughters exchanged glances, a mixture of empathy and frustration etched across their faces.

Once the examination concluded, Miranda and the daughters left the room, leaving Y/N alone with her emotions. As the door closed behind them, the dam of suppressed anger and sorrow burst, and Y/N cried out in frustration, mourning not just the physical loss but the irrevocable changes that had befallen her life.

In the dimly lit room, Y/N grappled with the harsh reality of her lost vision. Frustration and sorrow built up inside her until it erupted in a storm of emotion. Objects flew across the room, crashing against the walls, and anguished screams echoed through the castle halls.

On the first floor, the sounds reached Alcina's ears, her sharp senses detecting the turmoil unfolding above. Concern etched her features as she turned to her daughters. "What's happening? What's going on up there?"

Bela exchanged a worried glance with her sisters before reluctantly responding, "It's Y/N. She just found out about her eye."

Alcina's eyes widened in realization, the weight of guilt settling in her chest. "I need to go to her," she declared, her urgency evident.

Cassandra placed a hand on Alcina's arm, holding her back. "No, Mother. She needs time. Let her be."

Alcina's eyes flickered with a mixture of anguish and determination. "I can't just stand here. I need to be with her."

Daniela added, "Give her space, Mother. We'll be here for her when she's ready."

The distant sounds of Y/N's anguish continued, a heartbreaking symphony that resonated through the castle. Alcina, torn between the instinct to comfort and the understanding that she needed to respect Y/N's space, reluctantly acquiesced. She lingered on the first floor, her gaze fixed on the staircase leading to the source of the tumult, a silent prayer echoing in her heart for the strength to mend what had been broken.

As the weeks crawled by, Y/N remained ensconced in the solitude of her room, an unyielding barrier separating her from the world outside. The sisters, growing increasingly concerned, approached their mother with their worries.

"Mother, Y/N hasn't been herself. She refuses to eat, talk, or see anyone," Bela expressed, her concern etched across her face.

Alcina's brow furrowed with worry. "Have you tried talking to her? Maybe she needs someone to reach out."

"We've tried, Mother, but she won't let anyone in," Cassandra added.

Determined to break through the walls Y/N had erected, Alcina nodded. "I'll talk to her. Give me some time alone with her."

The next day, Y/N cautiously returned to her duties, attempting to immerse herself in work while steering clear of Alcina and her daughters. The whispers of the other maids reached her ears, their gossip fueled by the visible scar on her face. It was a constant reminder of the events that had unfolded.

One day, as she went about her tasks, a particularly cruel maid approached, taunting her about the scar. Y/N, already on edge, couldn't suppress her irritation and retorted. Before the situation could escalate, Alcina materialized, her presence commanding attention.

"What is going on here?" Alcina's voice cut through the tension, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the scene.

The maid, caught off guard, stammered, "I was just... having a little fun, Lady Dimitrescu."

Alcina's gaze shifted to Y/N, awaiting an explanation. Y/N, though visibly distressed, spoke up, "She was making comments about the scar on my face. I couldn't just stand there."

Alcina's expression hardened, a protective glint in her eyes. "Such behavior is unacceptable. Leave us, now."

The maid scurried away, and Alcina turned her attention to Y/N, her demeanor softening. "Come with me. We need to talk."

Alcina led Y/N to her private chamber, the heavy door closing behind them, creating a cocoon of relative privacy. The room, adorned with opulent furnishings, felt both familiar and distant as they settled into an uneasy silence.

Alcina, her concern palpable, observed Y/N closely. The once vibrant head maid appeared frail, her features worn and her form diminished. Finally, breaking the silence, Alcina spoke gently, "Y/N, you've changed. You're not taking care of yourself. What happened?"

Y/N, still shrouded in her own turmoil, remained silent, her eyes fixed on a distant point. Alcina, persistent, continued, "You've lost so much weight, and your health has taken a toll. Please, talk to me."

The words hung in the air for a moment before Y/N's composure crumbled. She broke into sobs, the weight of her emotions pouring out in a torrent. Alcina, her stern exterior softening, moved closer and wrapped her arms around Y/N, offering a comforting embrace.

Y/N, between gasps for air, managed to utter, "Everything is falling apart, Alcina. I can't... I can't see, and everyone treats me differently. I feel so lost."

Alcina tightened her hold, offering a steadying presence. "You're not alone, Y/N. I'm here for you. We'll get through this together. Please, tell me what happened."

As Y/N poured out her heart, detailing the loneliness, despair, and the weight of her physical and emotional pain over the past weeks, Alcina listened with an understanding gaze. Her touch remained a steady anchor, a reassurance that Y/N wasn't alone in the darkness that had consumed her.

"It's okay to feel this way, Y/N," Alcina murmured, validating the tumult of emotions Y/N had laid bare. "You've been through so much, and it's perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed."

As Y/N's sobs gradually subsided, exhaustion claimed her, and she felt herself drifting into a fatigue-laden slumber. She hesitated, apologizing as she began to withdraw from Alcina's embrace, intending to retreat to her own solitude.

Alcina, however, gently tightened her hold. "Don't apologize, Y/N. You can stay if you want, and you don't need to be alone tonight."

Y/N, both surprised and grateful, managed a weak smile. "I don't want to impose."

"You're not imposing, Y/N," Alcina reassured her. "This is your room too."

Y/N, looking up at Alcina with a hint of shock, asked a question that had been haunting her thoughts. "Do you still want me to be your girlfriend, even though I'm... hideous now?"

Alcina tilted Y/N's chin, meeting her eyes with a tender gaze. "Y/N, I didn't fall in love with you because of your looks. I fell in love with your caring and empathetic personality, the way you get along with my daughters, your confidence, and perseverance. You're still the gorgeous woman I fell in love with, changes and all."

In the soft glow of understanding, Y/N felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. It was a pivotal moment, a testament to the resilience of their connection.

As Y/N let out a weary sigh, Alcina's gaze softened. "You need to take care of yourself, Y/N. I want to help you, starting with your eating. We can take it at your pace, no pressure."

Y/N hesitated, her eyes reflecting both gratitude and trepidation. "I... I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not a burden, Y/N," Alcina affirmed, her voice gentle but firm. "We're in this together. I'll support you every step of the way, at your pace. You're not alone anymore."

Gently, Alcina lifted Y/N and guided her to the bed, ensuring she was comfortable. She left momentarily to prepare for bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of the evening. When she returned, Y/N had shifted, her eyes heavy with fatigue.

Y/N moved closer to Alcina, who welcomed her with open arms. Alcina, with a tender touch, pulled Y/N close, wrapping her arms protectively around her. Y/N, feeling the warmth of Alcina's embrace, couldn't help but apologize.

"I'm sorry, Alcina. I shouldn't have pushed you that day after the meeting," Y/N whispered, a trace of regret in her voice.

Alcina, with a gentle touch, guided Y/N's face to meet her gaze. "Draga mea, you have nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault. It was my mistake, and I should have never let it escalate to that point."

The room was enveloped in a serene quiet as Alcina, their faces mere inches apart, made a promise that hung in the air like a vow. "It will never happen again, draga mea."

In that moment of shared vulnerability and understanding, Alcina's eyes flickered to Y/N's lips. As anticipation lingered, Alcina leaned in, closing the distance between them, and pressed a soft, tender kiss upon Y/N's lips. Y/N responded, reciprocating the kiss with a warmth that bridged the gap of the painful past, her fingers gently lacing into Alcina's raven-colored curls.

The kiss lingered in the air for a timeless moment, a delicate exchange that spoke of forgiveness and a shared commitment to moving beyond the shadows of the past. As they broke the kiss, their foreheads met, a shared sanctuary of quiet understanding and the weight of unspoken emotions.

Alcina's eyes, still locked onto Y/N's, reflected a blend of sincerity and tenderness. The promise lingered in the air, a silent vow that carried the weight of redemption and the hope for a different future. The room seemed to hold its breath, cocooned in the aftermath of the shared connection.

Softly, Alcina pressed a gentle kiss on Y/N's forehead, a symbol of reassurance and protection. Y/N, touched by the tender gesture, rested her head in the crook of Alcina's neck. In this intimate closeness, Y/N breathed in the scents that defined Alcina — the rich undertones of wine, the lingering fragrance of her perfume, and the faint hint of cigarettes, a distinctive blend that was uniquely and unmistakably Alcina Dimitrescu.

The room, once a witness to turmoil, now became a haven for two souls seeking solace. Alcina's fingers traced gentle patterns on Y/N's back, a soothing touch that spoke volumes of unspoken understanding. The quietude was only broken by the occasional crackling of the fireplace, casting a warm, flickering glow that danced across the room.

In the silent exchange between them, words seemed redundant. The complexities of their shared history were reduced to the simplicity of this moment, where forgiveness, love, and the promise of a different tomorrow unfolded in the gentle interplay of their breaths.

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