#Rethink Mental Illness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chlix · 5 days ago

Text

baby, it's cold outside (no seriously it's crazy out there)

bf! chan x gn! reader: your car breaks down in a snowstorm and you have to walk home. chan is there to comfort you and warm you back up

pairing: chan x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 4.1k

warnings/tags: snowstorms, car trouble, sickness, a long series of unfortunate events that leave the reader miserable for most of the fic

a/n: this is a request from @caticorn61 who wanted chan being apologetic for not answering his phone after reader's car broke down. this is perhaps more than what u asked for 😅 but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

You are on a historic run of bad days.

You've never considered yourself to be particularly unlucky, but this past week has had you rethinking that orientation. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. On Monday your alarm didn't go off, making you late for work. Even worse, there was a meeting you'd forgotten about, so you had to slide awkwardly into the back of the room and pretend you didn't feel everyone's annoyed gazes. Tuesday was grocery shopping day, but you found out they discontinued your favorite brand of chips, and raised the price of an alternative, so you were forced to go home chip-less. Then, when you tried to take the groceries out of the car, one of the bags split open and sent your eggs, cheese, and blueberries crashing to the ground, buried in slush and snow. A total waste. Wednesday you woke up to find your heating had shut off in the night, and you were now shaking fit to break apart. Although maintenance promptly fixed your radiator, you developed an itch in your throat that only grew throughout the day and had developed into a full-blown cough by the next morning.

Which is where you are now on a subzero Thursday morning, ill and irritated and crawling your way towards the end of the week.

Your boyfriend, Chan, talks to you on the phone in soothing tones.

"I'm sorry your week has been so rough, baby," he says, and you can hear the dripping sympathy through the phone. "I know how it feels when little things pile up like that."

"I just don't know if I can take it anymore," you tell him. "It's like I've been cursed. I'm afraid if I walk outside a piano will fall on me and crush me."

You're half-joking when you say that, but Chan can hear that the other half is vaguely on hysterical.

"I don't think anyone is moving pianos in this weather," he says very reasonably. "Just stay away from luxury apartments if you're worried."

You set your bag down and put your face in your hands, taking slow, deep breaths. Your phone is on speaker, and you can hear Chan hum, trying to comfort you even though he's in his own dorm across the city.

"It'll all be okay, Y/n. And I'll see you this weekend, yeah? I'll come over Friday night and you'll have me all to yourself. Just stay strong."

You exhale, long and loud. "You promise?"

"I promise. Be strong for me, babygirl."

You blink the dampness out of your eyes and straighten up. "Okay. I can do that."

"And drink some tea. Your voice sounds kind of rough."

"Don't get me started again, please."

By the time you hang up, you don't feel understood, but you do feel seen. You fill up a thermos with tea, put on your coat, and mentally prepare yourself to leave the apartment.

It's only two more days, you remind yourself. The weekend will fix me. It'll break this curse that's been placed upon me. You force yourself to have a positive outlook. You will not have another bad day. You will be strong.

All day, you force yourself to react to every potentially meltdown-inducing incident with grace and poise. You realize you forgot your lunch and have to eat cheap candy from the vending machine for lunch? That's totally fine. Your boss adds another item to your to list, forcing you to stay later to finish everything and close up? You really don't mind. Your best friend texts you that she's been stalking her ex on Instagram again and you won't believe it but he already has a new girlfriend, y/n, can you fucking believe it, we've only been broken up for like two weeks and he's buying her fucking jewelry, and you respond what an asshole. he has a new gf and he didn't block his ex? while your eye twitches.

By the time you finish all your tasks and close up, your face hurts from holding a smile you don't feel. You're the last one out, so you make sure the building is locked and make your way across the empty parking lot to your car. The forecast predicted snow tonight, and already the ground is littered with white. The flakes are fat and sticky- they're already building up on the undisturbed portions of pavement. You have to quickly brush off your windows and mirrors before you can get into your car, slamming the door behind you.

You made it. You survived. It was a godawful Thursday but you conquered it.

"One more day," you whisper to yourself. "Just one more day."

You lock the door and put the key in the ignition. The dashboard lights up and the engine turns.....and turns....and turns.....

A rock forms in your stomach.

"No," you say. "No no no no no." You twist the key again, but the engine whirs and whirs and whirs...and does not turn over. Your car does not start.

It's not news to you that your car is a piece of shit. You and Chan discuss this almost every night- what to do about this fuckass car. You've been resistant to letting him help you pay for a new one, partially because that's a lot of money and partly because you're sentimentally attached to the old rustbucket. You inherited it from a family member as a birthday gift, and so despite it being less than reliable you're hesitant to seek solutions. It's your first car, after all. It's a part of you now.

In this moment, however, you want to throw all that sentimentally down the drain along with the keys to this absolutely useless fucking rustbucket of a vehicle.

Not to worry, you tell yourself. I'll just call Chan to come get me. We can deal with my car in the morning.

You take out your phone and call him. The call rings out.

You stare at your phone, confused. It's not like him to ignore your calls, especially not at this hour. It's pitch black with winter but it's still arguably early in the night. Chan is likely to still be awake, but it's unlikely he's doing any kind of official task. And it's so late that he would know to answer; you would never call him for something frivolous at this time of night. You call again.

No answer.

Your patience is running thin now. You consider calling your best friend, but she's out of town visiting family. Your other friend, Seohyeon, doesn't have a car, and her boyfriend's car is currently being repaired. The bus you sometimes take is about a fifteen minute walk down the street, but it'll have stopped running this far out by now, so you'd have to walk to a further bus stop and then go to the transportation terminal and connect, which would take over an hour. You could walk to the subway, you think, but you lost your subway card weeks ago and never got around to replacing it, and honestly it just seems like a whole ordeal you can't bring yourself to stomach right now. Chills go down your spine, and you can't tell if it's from the cold or from the increasing precarity of your situation.

You try the engine again. No dice.

You call Chan again. Voicemail again.

You lean your head on the steering wheel and take long, deep breaths. Outside your window, the wind is picking up, making the snow fall at a diagonal instead of straight down. It would be terrible to walk in, especially because the direction you need to go to get home would cause the snow to blow right in your face. Your throat is killing you, but your thermos of tea is long since empty. Maybe you should just go back into the work building and hunker down for the night. Maybe you should sit in the car and turn into an icicle. Your head is a foggy mess, thoughts twisting all around. You're getting hysterical again. You can feel yourself cracking to pieces.

Think, y/n. Who else can you call?

You're all out of people you know personally, but you could call an Uber. It's pricey and arguably unsafe, and you normally wouldn't, but these are extenuating circumstances. It solves the problem of being stranded, and again, you can deal with your car at a later point. And at least when Chan finally calls you back, you'll be safe at home, so he won't have to feel guilty about missing your calls three times.

You lean back in your seat and open the Uber app. Thankfully you still have it installed, and it still has all your info in it from the last time you called someone to take you home. Just as you're about to finish the transaction, your phone freezes. The screen flashes, then goes dark. You press the power button once, then again, frantically.

Your phone is dead.

Immediately, you scramble for your console, searching for a power cable to connect the phone to the car battery. Your cable is gone. You remember, horrified, that you took the cable out of your car because the one in your living room at home had started fraying. You meant to replace it but you never did. You're normally pretty good at leaving the house in the morning with it mostly charged.

But it's nighttime now, and your battery is dead. You have no charging cables, which means you can't call an Uber. You can't call anybody. And you can't even go to the subway now because your debit card is on your phone, so you can't refill your subway card.

A terrible despair fills you.

You have to walk home in a snowstorm.

As soon as the thought materializes, tears start to well in your eyes. This is too much for you to take, would be too much for you even if you'd had a perfectly good day today. This isn't fait. How can this be happening to you? Why is the universe punishing you like this? And when is it going to stop? Again you wish you could just sit in your car and turn into an icicle, let someone else defrost you in the morning. You think having a piano fall on your head would be better than this.

Eventually you manage to get yourself to calm down. Sitting in this car freezing isn't gonna do you any good. It'll only get colder by the hour. You need to walk to the far bus stop and catch another bus before they actually stop running, and you really are stranded instead of just doomed to walk forty minutes in a blizzard.

As if there's a difference, you think bitterly as you put your useless phone into your bag and bundle everything up. You put your gloves back on, and your hat. You step out of your car, slamming the door behind you, and zip up your jacket. Of course, you hadn't thought to wear a scarf today, so your face will just have to freeze. After only 30 seconds you feel your lips cracking.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay okay okay okay."

You set off in the direction of the bus.

-/-

The journey is long and cold. It's not so much the temperature as the fact that you never have the chance to get used to it because it just keeps getting holder as the night wears on. It takes a ridiculously long time to walk to the bus stop, because you're fighting headwind every step of the way. You want to close your eyes against the snow, but if you do that you'll veer off course or fall into the road or trip on an ice slick and die, so you brave the stinging and push forward. Then you wait at the bus stop so long that your already sore feet start to scream with pain. Your phone is dead, so there's no way for you to track the bus, but you conclude you must have just missed the previous one as it takes a full thirty minutes for it to come again. By the time the bus pulls up in front of you, your feet are almost buried, and when you take your seat, every part of you squelches and slides as the snow melts, drenching your clothes.

The bus is at least warm, and so is the transport center, but the second bus drops you off another twenty-five minute walk from your apartment and you're forced to walk- you guessed it!- uphill. Your calves are screaming from the exertion, and from cold, and from keeping your balance as you trudge through the piling snow. You have a death grip on your keys- if they were to fall out somewhere between work and home you would simply lie down on the ground and let the snow bury you. It would be more than you could take. But your keys stay in your tightly clenched fists, and soon your apartment building becomes visible through the dark and haze. You want to cry tears of relief but your tear ducts are frozen shut.

By the time you traipse up the steps of your apartment, you feel more popsicle than person. You are so cold. Your hands shake so much it takes you a few tries to get the keys from your pocket and stick them in the lock. You step inside, sagging as the heat blasts you in the face. All you want to do is collapse into bed and curl under your blankets where the world can't see you, to get a little bit of sleep before your torture begins anew tomorrow. The thought of going to work on Friday strikes a physical pain in you. You've barely survived today, and yet tomorrow looms terrible just out of reach.

You go to turn on the lights only to realize that the lights are already on. Your heart skips a beat. Did someone break into your apartment? Should you turn around and flee? But you don't have a car, and you certainly aren't walking back to the bus stop. You have nowhere to go.

A figure turns the corner and you flinch back, hands half-raised in some pathetic attempt to defend yourself-

It's Chan. He turns the corner and it's your boyfriend, standing on your tile floor in sweats and a big sweater, eyes bright and twinkling with how excited he is to see you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Chan says. "You're finally back. I saw you called earlier and got worried something was wrong."

You burst into tears. You're crying before you even know it, violent sobs that shake you and make water droplets roll off your soaked hair. Salt burns your frozen tear ducts, and snow is slipping down your collar, but all these small discomforts are overshadowed by the pure and all-consuming relief that your boyfriend is here in the flesh, asking after you and taking care of you, and you can finally stop fighting to keep it together. You can rest.

Chan makes a sound of alarm and rushes forward to grab you as you start to list.

"Baby? Hey, hey, what's wrong? Christ, you look terrible. Are you sick?" He tries to put his hand against your forehead but pulls it away just as fast. "You're cold as ice, y/n."

"I w-walked home," you try to explain. Your tongue is thick in your mouth, and it's hard to get enough air to speak through your sobs. "Car broke down, phone died, b-bus was late."

"Fuck, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry. That sounds terrible."

His validation of your misery just makes you cry harder. Chan pulls you into a fierce hug and you bury your face in his shoulder and absolutely lose it. All the stress of the last week crashes down on you at once, your misery overwhelming you. You grab at his clothes with gloved hands, and there's about four layers of clothes between you, and it's not enough, you want to be closer. But at the same time you can't make yourself pull away from Chan's embrace. He whispers soothing words in your ear, rocks you back and forth, presses closed mouth kisses to any part of you he can reach. He doesn't shush you, or try to calm you down. He just lets you have the emotional release he knows you sorely need.

When your cries start to slow, he gives you one final squeeze to catch your attention, and whispers, "We need to get you out of these clothes, hmm? Does that sound okay?"

You swallow the last of your sobs and nod morosely.

"Okay then. Let's take your jacket off. It's soaking wet by now."

You step back from Chan, still holding on to his arm as you stumble and sway. You're so tired. Standing up for even a second longer is too big of an ask.

"Just lean on me. It's okay, I won't let you fall."

Together, you unfasten and take off your heavy winter coat, letting it fall to the floor with the slush you dragged in. Chan is the one who crouches down to untie your shoes, and you lean on him for support as you remove one foot, then the other.

"Good job," he praises, pressing a kiss to your snow-soaked hair. "Let's get you warmed up now."

He leads you to the bathroom and starts the water running in the tub. You listlessly undress, leaning on the counter for support when you need it. While the tub is filling, Chan tries to leave, but you catch him by the shoulder on his way past you, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stay?"

"Of course I'll stay," he says. "I just want to get you a change of clothes."

You hesitantly let go of him, and he flashes you a reassuring smile before he slips out. You sit down on the toilet and wait patiently for his return, watching the water fill the tub slowly and feeling your thoughts move sluggishly in your brain.

The sound of the water stopping jolts you back to the present. Chan is back, in a regular t-shirt this time, leaning over the bathtub to make sure the water is the right temperature. Deeming it good enough, he turns back to you and stretches out a hand to you.

As soon as you sit down in the warm water, you feel about ten times better. The warmth unties some of the tension that coils your muscles, and it quells the shivering that had started up as you were sitting on the toilet waiting to be told what to do. Chan urges you to slide down so you're almost submerged, making sure almost all your body is enveloped in warmth, and starts dumping warm water over your head, soaking your hair and washing out the remnants of grime and slush. He's quiet as he does it, humming a low tune, and you close your eyes and let him do as he wants. When he's done, he taps your shoulder, and you sit up, mourning the loss of warmth as your back and chest are exposed to the bathroom air.

"Do you mind?" he asks. You shake his head, uncaring of what he's referring to. You'd let him do anything to you in this state. It turns out "anything" means washing your back, so you again sit still and let him do as he pleases. The pressure of his hands and the sound of his voice, still humming, gradually soothe your mind and body. You stop shivering and tune back into your surroundings.

He's subtly watching your face, so he sees when you come back to yourself and drops his neutral expression. "Back with me?"

You nod. The floaty feelings from being cold and hysterical are gone, but that just means the exhaustion of your day is hitting you full force. You hold out your hand for the washcloth so you can clean the rest of yourself, and he hands it over, but doesn't move to leave, which you appreciate. Now that you're calmer, you think you might be a little more embarrassed asking him to stay.

"I know you said this morning you were cursed, but I didn't think you meant literally," he tries to joke.

You let out a long breath. "I didn't think I meant literally either."

"Wanna talk about it?"

You shrug as you rub the washcloth along your legs, wincing when you remove your still-freezing toes from the water. "What can I say? It was a shit day at work with a shit ending."

"You said your car broke down."

You squeeze your eyes shut. You are not in the mood for this argument. "It just wouldn't start. I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Y/n..." He doesn't say anything more. He knows as well as you do that you'll get nowhere. It's enough to set you off though, now that your exhaustion is making you irritatble.

"It wouldn't have mattered either way if you'd picked up the phone when I called you," you snap. It's unfair and you know it, but before you can begin to feel remorse, Chan's face turns to one of guilt.

"I know, I'm sorry. I still had it silenced from work and didn't realize. When I saw that you called me I tried to call back but the calls didn't go through."

"My phone died. That's why I didn't call an Uber."

Chan shakes his head. "I would call this comical if it wasn't so clearly stressing you out."

"You can still call it comical. Just not within earshot."

"Surely you think better of me than that."

"I do," you say, completely serious. "Sorry. I'm not mad you didn't answer. It's just been a shitty day."

Chan squeezes your shoulder in understanding. "It's alright. I get it."

"I'm really grateful you're here," you say, and you're getting choked up again, emotions all out of whack. "I've never been so happy to see anyone."

"You called three times. Since I couldn't get a hold of you, I hoped you'd still come home and we could talk here."

"You're too good to me."

"I'm exactly as good as you deserve." He leans down to kiss you, long and loving and warm, and the last of the chill in your bones slides away.

-/-

The next morning, Chan calls you in sick before you even wake up. He has to leave for the morning, but comes back around noon with ingredients to make you soup and tea, and rouses you for lunch with all the care and gentleness in the world. He curls next to you in bed despite your protests that you'll get him sick, but then, it's not like you protest that hard. You're still feverish and needy, and maybe it's not the most ridiculous thing in the world to want to lie in your boyfriend's arms as you recover from what you're pretty sure is mild hypothermia mixed with the flu.

"We were gonna hang out this weekend," you say morosely. "Now I'm trapped in this bed and you're stuck taking care of me."

"Taking care of you is my favorite form of hanging out," he informs you, cleaning away the mug and bowl to bring back to the kitchen. "And hanging up the phone on your boss is my favorite passtime."

"You did not hang up on them," you gasp, hand over your mouth.

Chan shrugs, unbothered. "They seemed a little too annoyed about my request to not tow your car out of the parking lot. I made it very clear that it better be there when you get back on Monday or else."

"So selfless. You could've let them tow it and finally been victorious."

He turns from the kitchen and sits back down on the bed. "You like that car. I'm not going to keep insisting you get rid of it when it means so much to you. Even if I do blame it for the events of yesterday." You glare and he puts his hands up defensively. "If it's not my fault or your fault then I have to blame the car. Sorry not sorry."

"Blame the cursed spirit following me around," you say, sinking miserably into the blankets. "It possessed the engine of my car just to torment me."

"Even more reason to get rid of it."

You're feverish and tired, but the conversation makes you smile nonetheless. "Ask me again when my fever breaks if you still think I should keep it. Maybe it'll burn away the sentimental attachment."

"Don't get my hopes up."

You close your eyes as Chan kisses your forehead, and you slide easily into pleasant dreams.

#skz x reader #skz x you #skz fluff #skz hurt/comfort #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #bang chan hurt/comfort

253 notes · View notes

thisgirlnamedblusy · 6 months ago

Note

Hiii could you maybe do Donna Beneviento with a single mother! fem! reader who is Donnas only maid, Donna lets your son (toddler) live in the manor because she knows that theres no one else to take care of him and shes quite fond of him, letting him play in her workshop while she works, she even makes toys and clothes for him. Donna is obviously in love with reader but she isnt sure if reader fells the same way until your son blabbs about how much you like Donna, which gives to confidence to confess to you. Feel free to ignore this request if you dont like it :]

Yess!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

A better future

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Maid, Single mother! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word count: 5,803

Summary: You have to be her maid, you have to take care of your son...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I won't be at home this weekend, but you can send your requests anyway, I'm waiting them!!! I love you all!!! :))

Nervously, you sat down in a chair.

You didn't expect to have to look for a job so desperately, but the storm that had destroyed your humble cabin forced you to do whatever it took to survive.

You could have rebuilt it, been cold for a while and then moved on with your life but… It wasn't you that mattered.

6 years ago you had made the biggest mistake of your life, falling in love with a foolish farmer. It could have been a real mistake, something you regretted at night, for which you cried at every corner, but the result of that brief romance made you see that maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

You had given birth to your son, Viktor, in absolute solitude. The farmer didn’t want to take responsibility and as if fate had made him pay for his disinterest, he was soon devoured by the Lycans. It was better this way. It took you a while to realize but... He wasn't a good person and he never was.

Maybe love blinded you. Maybe that romance never had to exist. But, looking into your little son's eyes made you rethink many things. Single mother, yes, but you would be the best mother in the world, for sure.

With a child in your care, no family, and your house practically destroyed, you had no choice but to look for an alternative, to find a way to support the child, to make him happy.

After the loss of your home, you wandered around the village looking for a kind soul, someone who would offer you a job and shelter from the cold. There weren't many options and asking Mother Miranda for help wasn't something you wanted to do. Maybe it was a trial from the Black Gods.

But there was an option, one that could provide you with work, and shelter. You would be a maid.

You had many friends who worked at the castle but you really didn't want to go there, not after hearing the things that were happening in there. After desperately searching for an alternative, the village merchant, the Duke, acted as a miracle worker, offering you a slightly different job and, according to him, a unique opportunity.

Apparently one of the village Lords, Donna Beneviento, needed a maid, someone to take care of the mansion. At first you refused, since you knew well what that mourning woman could do if she got angry. It wasn't the best place for your son, next to a mentally ill woman and her evil doll.

But time passed and your son shivered from the cold every night. The sight of his small body suffering the consequences of the cold was more than enough for you to take a deep breath and walk towards the old estate in search of a chance to have a better life.

And there you were, sitting in front of that woman with your son in your arms. The silence was heavy, tense, and her hidden face made you shiver.

“The, the Duke said you needed a maid,” you murmured, being the only voice heard in that house. The lady held her gaze and nodded slowly.

“Do you have experience as a maid?” A soft, hoarse voice asked, one that came out of her black veil.

You held your son tighter in your arms, wondering if it was really a good idea to be in that place. Poor Viktor was scared, taking refuge on your shoulder. It was probably because of the puppet resting on the lady's lap. It even gave you chills.

“Well, no, my lady, but I really want this job,” you murmured, embarrassed by your lack of experience.

“Your voice sounds desperate,” the lady in black sighed, with that same stoic pose, barely moving from that chair, proving she was not a ghost with her soft breathing.

“No, well, I...” You said, faking a smile and shifting in your chair. “Well, maybe,” you finally acknowledged, making that mourning figure nod again.

The puppet suddenly came to life and the woman crouched down, as if she were whispering something in its ear. Something you couldn't hear. The doll nodded and climbed out of her lap, comically running towards you and stopping next to your son, who shifted nervously and scared.

“Hello, I'm Angie, who are you?” The doll asked. Not to you, but to the child you were holding. He got even more scared, but you moved him so he was looking at the puppet.

“Answer her, honey,” you whispered, just as scared, but convinced that this was some kind of test. “Be kind.”

“My name is Viktor...” The boy murmured, his voice distorted due to the fist in his mouth.

“Well, Viktor...” Angie said, with her hands on her hips, barely paying attention to you. The lady in black didn't seem to want to take her eyes off you. “Do you want us to be friends?”

The answer to that question came in the form of a shaky shake of the head. You breathed heavily, not knowing how important that would be to getting the job.

“No? What a shame,” Angie said, with a squeaky voice. “I thought I would have someone to play with…”

“Play?” Your son asked. He couldn't resist that blackmail with an expectant look. The doll nodded, turning cockily.

“Yes, play. I'm the world's hide-and-seek champion, didn't you know? I thought a kid like you could beat me, but if you don't want to...” She said, feigning indifference.

“The world champion?” He asked curiously, losing that initial fear. After all, he was just a child.

“Yes. Tell me, do you think you could beat me?” The doll asked, with a challenging tone.

“Yes, I also play hide-and-seek with my mother,” the boy said, frowning and looking at you with a questioning face.

“Prove it, let's play,” Angie insisted, extending a wooden hand to your son.

You looked at the lady, who had remained completely silent, observing the conversation. With a nod of approval, she let you know that it was a good idea, although you were still not entirely convinced.

“Can I play, mom?” Viktor asked, tugging at the fabric of your dress. You hesitated, but seeing that there was nothing wrong, or so you wanted to think, you nodded, helping the boy down to the floor.

The two of them ran through the house and you watched them closely. You didn't trust her, you couldn't do it.

“It will be okay, (Y/N),” Lady Beneviento whispered, drawing your attention again, making you remember why you were there.

You nodded suspiciously, but sat up straight and looked at her again.

“Is he your son?” She asked, with an indifferent tone. You nodded slowly. “How old is he?”

“6 years old, my lady,” you responded kindly, to which the lady nodded again, turning her head towards the doll and the child, who seemed to be having fun.

“Where is his father?” The lady continued asking, making your stomach clench as you remembered that horrible farmer.

“He is not here anymore, and it's better this way,” you murmured, perhaps revealing much more information than you wanted. The mourning lady nodded slowly at that statement of yours, letting something resembling a sigh escape from her lips.

“I understand,” she whispered with an indifferent tone. “I suppose that if I hire you, your son will be included too, right?”

You didn't know how to respond instantly. Maybe a child running around the house wasn't exactly what this disturbed woman needed.

“I wouldn't ask you if I had another option, my lady. I have no family. There is no one who can take care of him. He only has me. If that is an impediment to work, I...”

“Shut up, I didn't say that,” she said, interrupting you abruptly, making you swallow nervously.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” you apologized, bowing your head.

“Do you think I would let a child go hungry or cold? Do you think I would be capable of something like that?”

“No, my lady,” you answered embarrassed.

Before the situation could become more tense, the Angie doll came running towards where you were, comically climbing over her owner and making a mocking gesture at your son, who protested by stamping his feet on the floor.

“That's cheating,” your son said, with an innocent tone.

“You can't catch me,” the doll crooned, hiding behind Lady Beneviento.

Your son never gave up easily, you knew that, and before you could stop him, the boy climbed up the sofa, reaching his small arm towards the doll, accidentally grabbing the black fabric of the lady's veil and removing it with a triumphant gasp. .

“Viktor!” You shouted, scared, quickly getting up from the chair and grabbing the wrist of your son, who had been petrified when he saw the deformed face of the lady in black, one that you had not paid much attention to. “Gods, excuse him, my lady, I beg you.”

Lady Beneviento maintained a cold expression towards the child, who tremblingly held the veil in his hand, looking with horror at the woman's face.

“I'm very sorry, lady, I didn't want to hurt you,” the boy said politely, with a sad face, as if he had been to blame for something horrible.

“You haven't hurt me,” she said, with a low tone, without showing any annoyance or offense, which made you relax and focus on her. She was a terribly beautiful woman. No scar was going to stop you from thinking that way.

“Her, her eye...” The boy repeated, allowing himself to be held in your arms. The lady shook her head, with the same cold expression.

“Viktor...” You sighed, thinking, after that incident, you would never have the job. “My lady, I…”

The lady fixed her eye on yours, without expressing any emotion, and she rose from her chair, retrieving her veil from your son's small hands.

“Mom, I took out her eye...” Viktor murmured, scared, terrified by what he thought he had done. The woman in black, smiled sweetly at those words.

“No, honey, she looks like that. You haven't done anything wrong,” you said, cradling him in your arms, looking askance at the woman, who kept a cold, studious gaze. “I, we should go. Anyway, thanks for helping me.”

“Are you going to look for your stuff?” She asked, frowning and playing with the veil in her hands.

“Well, I... What?”

"Go get the things you want, you'll settle in the guest room,” she explained, walking away from you, turning her back to you. You widened your eyes and shook your head, walking quickly and putting a hand on her shoulder to make her turn around.

“Am I hired?” You asked in a low voice, not believing what had just happened.

“Haven't you heard me? Go get your stuff,” she murmured, pushing your hand away and walking until she disappeared from your sight.

Against all odds, Donna Beneviento appointed you as her maid. You would live safely in the mansion. You would no longer have to fear hunger and cold. You didn't stop thanking the Gods for that opportunity.

At first you had a hard time adjusting. Viktor still needed a lot of care and your job as a maid required you to be less attentive to him as you should be. Fortunately, and to your surprise, that devilish doll made your job easier.

It seemed like your son was having fun with the puppet, it seemed like things were getting better.

Regarding the Lady... Well, there weren’t too many things you could say. That you had seen her face was an important step, since she stopped wearing her veil after a while. She seemed satisfied with your work, but you couldn't be sure, she barely talked to you.

Weeks, months passed, and your life improved enough that you felt like smiling again, and, above all, your son seemed happy.

“Where are you? Viktor, this is not the time to play,” you said while cleaning, surprised because the boy didn't seem to be with the puppet. You searched for him all over the main floor, to no avail.

Although you had no reason to think that anything bad could happen, you couldn't help but see that house as a dangerous place. Donna Beneviento was a Lord, and you knew that none of her visitors returned alive from that dangerous situation. Definitely, the fact that there was a deadly cliff outside didn’t help you to calm down.

“Angie, where is the child?” You nervously asked the puppet, who was humming while making small jumps through the hallway.

“Do I look like a nanny to you, maid?” She asked mockingly, crossing her arms. You sighed, already used to that cocky but fun treatment.

“He's always with you,” you said, huffing, with trembling hands and searching with your eyes for some place he could have gone.

“Maybe he's downstairs,” the puppet whispered, pointing to the elevator.

All your senses became alert. You had warned him several times not to go down to that dark place by himself.

“Very good, thank you very much,” you said, running towards that place.

“Viktor? Come here right now!” You said with a severe tone, walking through those labyrinthine and dark corridors.

While you were walking, you heard voices that seemed to come from the workshop where your lady worked tirelessly, making those sinister dolls.

“Oh, no...” You sighed, walking faster.

It didn't seem like Viktor was a bother to the lady at all, they even seemed to get along well, but still you couldn't let your son ruin this little paradise you had achieved.

“And he can fly,” your son said when you looked at the door of that disturbing place. The boy was sitting at a table, talking to the lady, who was working on something while she listened to his comments.

“I guess we'll have to put some wings on it then, right?” Lady Beneviento responded, with a calming voice, which made you not want to reveal your presence yet.

“No, no, he flies because he has rockets on his boots,” the boy interrupted, looking at the work of the woman in black, who smiled tenderly, arching her eyebrow.

“Rockets?” She asked, amused, taking a piece of wood from the table.

“Yes, yes, like those that go to space, but smaller,” your son explained under your attentive gaze.

“Very well... So... Rockets,” she murmured, concentrating on that piece of wood.

“Mom, mom,” the boy said, when he made eye contact with you, revealing your position and jumping from the table to run into your arms.

“Viktor, I've told you a thousand times not to come down here alone,” you scolded him, making him shrink into your arms, embarrassed.

“(Y/N),” the lady in black murmured, getting up from the chair, with a look that betrayed some joy at seeing you.

Yes, even if your relationship was almost nonexistent, you couldn't help but feel comfortable with her and... It seemed like she thought the same way.

“My lady, I'm sorry if he annoyed you, I've told him many times that he shouldn't come down here and...” You said, lowering your head, interrupted by a timid laugh from the woman in black.

“He wasn’t annoying me, don't worry. It's nice to have some company while I work,” she commented, amused, getting a little closer to you, playing with her hands.

“Mom, Donna is making a toy for me. He's going to be the best superhero,” the boy said, enthusiastically, to which you frowned, nervous again.

“Honey, don't be disrespectful, you should call her my lady or Lady Beneviento,” you told him, ignoring that curious information about a toy.

“No, I told him he can call me that way,” she interrupted, sighing, with a face that was a middle ground between a smile and embarrassment. “You too, (Y/N).”

“Well, I...” You stammered, confused by that informality. According to the maids you knew in the castle, that was unthinkable, and they would end up locked in the dungeons for it. “Okay, okay, Donna…”

“There is no need for so much formality, don't you think? You've been here for a long time,” the woman in black commented, with a knowing smile. You nodded in relief, lowering your son to the floor.

“I guess... That you're right,” you said in a low voice, feeling strangely uncomfortable having her eye fixed on you. It was not an annoying discomfort, quite the opposite.

“He's a good boy,” she told you with a soft voice, making your son smile pleased, looking at you as if he were showing that he wasn't up to any mischief.

“Yes, well... He is,” you said.

“I was making a toy for him,” Donna commented, walking towards the table where she was working, making you follow her slowly after that strange moment.

“A toy?” You asked confused.

“Yeah!” Viktor shouted, jumping on the stone floor, excited. “The best toy ever!”

“Oh, my… Donna, you don't have to do it,” you said apologetically, lowering your head again.

“Why not? I want to do it,” she said, with a more serious tone, with a cold and somewhat annoyed expression.

“I appreciate it but...” You said, scratching the back of your neck and playing with your apron.

“Is there anything wrong with it?” She asked abruptly, making the boy look at you confused.

“No, not really, but...” You whispered, with a slightly nervous smile, with a lot of strange thoughts in your head.

“What is the problem? Can't a nutcase like me make a toy for your son? Do you think I'm going to hurt him? Is that?” She asked with an accusatory tone, with that nervous breathing that preceded a terrible panic attack. You didn't want that to happen, not in front of your son.

“No, I didn't say that,” you said with a firm tone, frowning and hiding your son behind your legs.

“It's what you think, don't try to deny it,” she murmured, sitting down again, thus telling you that you should go.

“I... We better go,” you whispered, grabbing the boy's hand and walking towards the door of the workshop.

“I want to stay with Donna,” Viktor protested, making the lady turn around slowly, looking at you with a sad expression.

“No, honey, leave her alone, okay?” You said to your son, without taking your eyes off the woman in black. “You've already bothered her enough.”

“But mom... Donna is funny... She makes all the dolls talk and she makes me laugh,” the boy explained, frowning, threatening a tantrum.

“Viktor, obey,” you reprimanded, with a broken voice, feeling bad for that moment, for that fearful accusation towards your lady, an accusation founded solely on what the villagers had told you about the Lord.

“Listen to your mother, Viktor,” Donna whispered, moving some paint cans on the table.

After that little incident, things went back to normal.

You couldn't stop thinking about your words, your fearful way of talking to the lady in black, to Donna.

Yes, you were afraid, you were scared and something would happen to your son was unthinkable but... In reality there was nothing wrong with her making toys for him, with her taking care of him. Guilt began to flood your conscience. Donna never scared him, she never hurt him. She took care of him in her own way, she played with him. You had nothing to worry about except messing things up, like that time.

“My lady,” you commented as you served her lunch, with a low and soft voice. She looked at you out of the corner of her eye and nodded for you to speak. The resentment was totally palpable in that room, it was impossible to ignore in that cold and accusatory look.

“I told you not to call me that,” she murmured, while you poured her a glass of wine.

“I'm sorry, I... I want to apologize,” you said hurriedly, making her stop eating and look at you again, sighing.

“Apologize, why?” She asked. “For thinking that I am a child-eating witch?”

“What? I don't...” You said a bit confused by that funny and serious accusation. “I don’t think that way.”

“Don’t you? You’re such a liar,” she said with a mocking laugh, shaking her head.

“I... I just, I just worry about him," you whispered, glancing at the boy, who was reading a story with Angie. “It's the only thing I have in the world and...”

“You're afraid of losing him, I understand,” Donna said, nodding, looking at you briefly. “Sit down, please,” she asked you, pointing to a chair at the table. You obeyed with trembling legs.

Donna looked at you briefly, thinking about what to say, and how to do it.

“You think you know me?” She asked, putting her food aside and crossing her arms, staring at you like a sharp dagger.

“No, my lady,” you said with a formal voice, lowering your gaze.

“My lady?” Donna asked, with an arched eyebrow and hatred in her voice.

“Donna,” you corrected, embarrassed again.

“I know what it's like to feel alone in this world, (Y/N). Surely all the villagers like you think that I’m just a ruthless Lord, that I have no heart or feelings.”

“I didn't say that,” you defended yourself, trying to control the trembling of your hands.

“But you think that way,” she said, with a dark voice. “You think that by having power over you, I would be able to do anything, right? Even harming child.”

“I don't…”

“Shut up, I'm talking, maid. If you fear me that much, respect me,” she said, with a loud, abrupt voice that caught the attention of the boy and the doll.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, avoiding feeling even more afraid.

“My parents died when I was a little girl, I wasn't much older than your son,” she began to say, taking a sip of wine. “I was left alone, completely alone in this huge house.”

You nodded, letting her speak.

“Unlike your son, I didn't have anyone to read me stories at night, to tell me that the shadows in the room couldn't hurt me. I didn't have anyone to laugh with, to hug,” she continued, her voice becoming more and more broken. “Your son is lucky to have you, (Y/N).”

“I...” You murmured, being interrupted by a gesture of her hand.

“I like having you here, I like to see that your son is having a better life,” Donna commented, looking at you this time embarrassed, as if there was something that wanted to come out from inside her. “I no longer feel alone, thanks to you.”

You looked at her, but you kept your words to yourself as you saw the relaxation of her breathing, the softness that her gaze expressed at that moment.

“But I can't stand that you fear me, I just can't stand it,” she said, looking away from you, finishing her glass of wine. “I can't stand you thinking... That I'm a monster.”

“I don't think you are,” you said confidently, with your body trembling in a different way, with a strange feeling beginning to come out of a hidden place in your mind. “It's, it's my fault, Donna, I... I just, I just want the best for my son and maybe, maybe I let myself go.”

She nodded grimly.

“I wish your words were true...” Donna murmured, playing with a cutlery and making a gesture with her hand. “Leave me alone, please.”

After that conversation, there was something that ignited inside you. Donna Beneviento may have had a lot of problems, but letting yourself be carried away by other people's opinions was never your style.

Once again, time proved you were wrong.

Viktor seemed very happy. He had fun with Donna in her workshop every day. You barely saw him anymore when you worked. Toys, clothes... The lady in black pleased him with handmade gifts that made him look at you grateful for being her maid.

You managed to improve that tense relationship with the Lord. The conversations were becoming more frequent and the smiles... The smiles too. You couldn't say if the conversation that afternoon had served to change your opinion, but you were convinced it had.

Trust grew to the point that meals were no longer solitary, or apart, they were a fun time for the three of you, full of laughter, smiles and strange moments in which you and Donna would look at each other as if you wanted to say something, as if something was forcing your eyes to meet more and more often.

Love was one of the things you couldn't afford. Viktor was your absolute priority. But with Donna and Angie taking care of him, freeing you from that burden for a while, the feeling of wanting to feel loved became stronger and stronger, and it coincided suspiciously with the times you ate with the lady in black, or the times you spent reading with her and your son.

Something strange, that you didn't expect to feel, but that you couldn't stop thinking. Your heart seemed to be determined to give yourself a new chance at love, but your past experiences were not a good recommendation for your conscience, which insisted on denying that you felt something for Donna, something that you never planned to feel again.

Sighing, you took off your apron, ending another day of exhausting work. The house was big, and so were the layers of dust that covered the furniture.

“Oh, nonna, che occhi grossi!... Per vederti meglio… Oh, nonna, che mani grandi!... Per afferrarti meglio” a soft voice reached your ears. It couldn't be anyone else.

In a small corner of the room, Donna seemed to be reading a story to Viktor, who was listening to her as if he really understood her. You frowned in amusement, approaching them slowly.

“Ma, nonna, che bocca spaventosa!” Donna continued, lowering her tone and looking at the child over the book. Your son stood up on the couch smiling, pretending that his hands were two sharp claws.

“Per divorarti meglio!” The boy screeched, growling like a ferocious wolf. You leaned against a wall, mouth open.

“What are you doing?” You asked amused, sitting next to your son, who continued growling and showing his teeth in a comical way.

“Oh, I was reading him a story,” the lady explained, closing the book and giving you a smile, one of those that caused those strange feelings to take over your breathing, and your heart.

“A story? But, Viktor, do you understand it?” You asked your son, making him sit up and stop pretending he was a wolf. The boy nodded innocently. “Hey, you, since when do you know Italian?”

“Donna taught me,” the little boy explained, shrugging his shoulders. “Am I doing it well?”

“Um, yeah, I guess so,” you said with a raised eyebrow. Donna looked at him fondly, and then, then she looked at you.

“He is very smart,” the lady in black explained, leaving the book of stories on the table, and looking away from you when she thought she had been smiling for too long.

“I see,” you said, still surprised, caressing your son's head, who smiled proudly.

“Can I play tag with Angie?” The boy asked, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Honey, it's too late, you should go to bed,” you said, getting up from the couch and taking him into your arms. You didn't know why he wanted to play. He was rubbing his eyes due to his tiredness. “Um… Donna…”

The lady stood up with you, looking at you expectantly.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” you said with a smile. She returned it to you and nodded, thus generating a tense moment, one like the ones you had more and more frequently.

“It's not a bother,” she whispered, nodding kindly, with a strange gleam in her eye, as if she were nervous. The way she played with her hands confirmed it to you. “(Y/N), I... I wanted, I wanted to tell you something.”

You nodded almost robotically, waiting… Well, you didn't really know what you were waiting for.

“I... I was thinking that I... You...” She stammered, finding to speak clearly difficult. It seemed like something important, which vanished the moment she dropped her shoulders.

“I'm listening,” you said amused, placing your son better in your arms. Your gazes met again and Donna sighed, as if she was suddenly disappointed with herself.

“I just wanted... I wanted you to know that... I, I really like you're here... You're here with me... In my house and... I... Well, I just, I just wanted to tell you,” Donna stammered, with a marked accent that made it difficult for you to understand those words.

“I, I'm also very happy by your side, I mean, working for you, I mean... Well, better, I'd better go to bed...” You said, cowardly fleeing from that strange conversation, trying to you’re your heartbeat.

You didn't turn to look at her. You assumed she had the same expression as you.

Trying to forget about those feelings, you put your son to bed, with your head speaking to you intensely, with your heart calling for you to listen to it.

“Mom, my superhero,” the boy said, reaching out to the toy that Donna had made for him. You smiled, grabbing it from the shelf and looked at it, studying it carefully before putting it under the covers next to the boy.

“Honey...” You sighed, stroking his hair. “Tell me, are you happy here?” You asked, to which he smiled, nodding profusely and hugging his toy.

“Yes, mom,” he answered, with a sleepy voice. “Donna is very nice, and Angie is very funny. I like them very much.”

“Do you like Donna?” You asked immediately afterwards, giving away the intention of your question.

“Yes, very much, mom, she is kind, she makes me laugh, and she makes you smile. I want us to stay with her forever,” he said enthusiastically, with all the sincerity of which such a young child was capable of.

“Well, maybe...” You whispered, amused. “I like her too, you know?”

You finally confessed something you were unable to tell yourself. Viktor just smiled at you, pleased by your response.

Yes, you had spent a lot of time denying your feelings, and that confession eased your anguish a bit. It's a shame that such a small child was incapable of keeping quiet.

“Looks like the weather has gotten better,” you murmured during lunch. That strange conversation from the night before had tense the atmosphere again, especially for Donna, who didn't seem to want to look at you, as if she were embarrassed by something.

“Yes, at least we can see the sun,” she commented, without looking up.

“Can we go for a walk in the forest?” Viktor asked, making the tension dissipate for a moment.

“We'll see, honey,” you said, wiping him with a napkin. “Come on, eat.”

“I like the forest. It has very big trees,” the boy said, looking at Donna, who smiled tenderly at him.

“Do you like it?” She asked kindly, looking away from you.

“Yes, I like it as much as my mom likes you,” he commented innocently, making you drop the cutlery on the plate, your heart completely stopping and a blush rising on your cheeks.

“Your… mom?” Donna asked, with the same trembling as you, looking at you slowly, with an expression of astonishment and disbelief.

“Viktor...” You sighed with a dark look. “What are you talking about?”

“You told me last night, Mom, you said you really liked Donna,” the boy said, feeling threatened by your angry look and your painful shame.

“Okay, enough, Viktor, go, go to play with Angie,” you said nervously, pushing your son out of the chair.

“But mom...” He protested confusedly, letting himself be dragged by your hand until he ran in search of the doll.

“Damn...” You muttered, slowly heading to the table, pretending that nothing had happened. “I'm going, I'm going to pick this up,” you said nervously, placing the plates to run out of there.

“Wait,” Donna said, standing up abruptly and stopping your attempt to flee with a hand on your shoulder.

“I'm in a hurry, Donna, I have to pick this up,” you said, on the verge of tears, terribly embarrassed and blushing at that inappropriate comment from your son. True, but inappropriate.

“Wait, please, I...” She begged, holding you tighter as you fought back your tears. “I love you.”

You stopped, turning slightly towards her. You hadn't imagined it, she had really said it. Your heart was about to burst.

“What have you said?” You asked with a broken voice, with a low and suspicious tone.

“I love you, (Y/N), I’m, I’m in love with you,” she confessed, looking away from you, with that same wet shine in her eye.

“Donna, I…” You stammered, not believing it could be true, not believing the voices in your heart were right.

“I didn't dare to tell you because, because I wasn't sure if you could feel the same but...”

“But my loudmouth son encouraged you to do it,” you finished, relaxing your face and leaving the plates on the table again, smiling happily, as if you were in a dream.

“I, I know that I’m not... What... What you are looking for but... I, I would like to be able to... I...”

Her babbling was stopped by a kiss, a kiss that you quickly placed on her lips while your hands played with her hair, preventing her from separating from you. Donna pulled away slowly, but before either of you could say anything else, she kissed you, slowly, enjoying that sensation, that love that had just seen the light.

“Gross!” Angie screamed, approaching the scene with your son, who was looking at you with curiosity.

You both closed your eyes and smiled, resting your foreheads together, your hands roaming your waist, enjoying a small moment of realization, of insights that were taking too long to come.

“I'm in love with you too, Donna,” you confessed, playing with her hand, placing your lips once again on hers, with the salty taste of a tear seasoning that important moment.

“Mom...” Your son called, tugging at your dress. You both smiled at each other again before separating. You took the child into your arms, enjoying his innocence.

“What, honey?” You asked, excited by that moment. Donna looked at you tenderly, not wanting to interrupt.

“Does that mean we will stay here forever?” He asked with an excited smile, excited by that possibility. You looked at Donna, and then at your son.

“Yes, darling…”

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

99 notes · View notes