#maid!oc

Chapter 1 Snippet (Dragon Prince!Stanley Snyder x Fem!Maid!OC):

Xeno took his time following, having gone over to the wet bar that Stanley had in his room and poured them both a healthy shot of bourbon, handing one of the crystal glasses to Stanley before sitting down on the opposite sofa. Both men had their large, draconian wings draped over the back of the sofa, allowing them to recline comfortably. “Your maid always impresses me each time I visit your chambers, Stan. Far better than the one your mother chose for you originally,” he commented as he crossed his legs, his obsidian eyes observing the Crown Prince as he took a healthy drag of his cigarette and allowed the smoke to lazily trickle out from his painted lips as he exhaled.

Stanley flicked the ashes off the end into the glass ashtray that sat next to his preferred seat, having been cleaned thoroughly of the butts and ashes from yesterday’s cigarettes. “I never ran into her. She quickly picked up on how I liked things set up in my space, though.”

“Never? How curious, given that she’s been your personal maid since your 16th year.” Xeno took another drink of his bourbon, his long metallic claws idly tapping against the crystal as he flipped through his memories. “Now that I think about it, I’ve never once caught a whiff of her scent during my visits. Did your father manage to find a she-drake that isn’t interested in men to take the position? Perhaps one of the lowborns…” Stanley stubbed out the butt and took a swig of his drink, finding amusement in Xeno’s muttered theories. “Neither. They were recommended by my cousin’s butler, Francois. And the only thing they’d tell me about her is that she’s human.”

Xeno paused mid-ramble and set his glass down. “Now that’s interesting. Even humans would leave behind pheromones and other small traces that we’d be able to detect.” “Unless she wears scent blockers while working. You know as well as I do that some dragons take pleasure in harassing the humans.” Stanley never did see the point in looking down on humans, as some of them offered a different perspective on the current structure of the world. It was one of the few things he could see eye-to-eye on with his greedy younger cousin.

“Makes one wonder where she would have come across such an elegant invention,” Xeno hummed with interest as he leaned further back, a silvery claw tapping at his lips. “My protégé was working on such a thing under Ryusui’s backing. He hasn’t written that he was ready to enter practical trials with his blockers.”

“More than likely from Francois. After all, your protégé hails from the Drago Kingdom, which my cousin is the Crown Prince of, and they have better relations with the humans of their lands.” Stanley once more pulled out the silver case for his cigarettes and happily placed another between his lips and lit it with a sharp snap from his fingers.

“Very much different from how Faustian sees them. Such a shame, too, as some have such an elegant way of thinking that it even puts some of the noble draconian families to shame.” Xeno rested his chin against his knuckles with an easy grin. “We’re blessed to have such a forward-thinking Crown Prince next in line to take the throne. Maybe then we shall have a shift and evolve past such beastly bigotry.”

Stanley took a deep drag, watching as the cherry end burned bright, and slowly exhaled the smoke from his nose. “Not if Mother has a say. Blasted woman wants to keep the status quo, and thinks she can manipulate me through whomever I mate with and our children.” It was unfortunate that the current King’s—Stanley’s father, King Sebastian Snyder—first mate ended up bestowing upon him a son, while the others had daughters. It inflated her ego like none other, securing her position as Queen and leaving no further need to bear any more children.

“You could always tell the sow that you chose me. I doubt the King would care,” Xeno pointed out, as he was always ready to help his best friend, scandals be damned. “It would give you more control and the necessary time to select a female mate without her influence.”

The blond prince shot back his bourbon and set the empty glass next to his ashtray. “Mother will find a way to interfere if I don’t select a female mate first. That woman is tenacious.” Another drag of his cigarette allowed the smoke to coil around in his lungs. “This is such a damn pain,” he sighed, whiskey-brown eyes watching the trails of smoke curling around him. “I feel a trip to the taverns is what I need.” He stubbed out the end of his half-smoked cigarette as he stood, his large, leathery wings stretching out to their full wingspan before settling against his spine once more.

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Resident Evil 8, Fanfiction

Heya folks! A little Donna/MaidOC drabble because work was exhausting today and I like thinking about my fictional wifey mhm.

TW: Mentions of Child Abuse, Panic Attack.

~500 word count.

Day 12 - “Does This Help You?”

You’re having a panic attack. You’re in the kitchen. Miss Angie said something and it triggered a memory from your childhood. Now you’re panicking. It’s irrational, you know it is. He is long gone and can’t hurt you anymore. So why are you panicking? Why does it still feel like his hands are closing around your throat? Why can’t you breathe?

A hand grasps yours. It’s inhumanly cold, but doesn’t feel like the porcelain that Miss Angie is made of. Who could it be then? Lady Beneviento stands beside you. Her signature veil covers her face. Just the sight of her almost causes you to jump. The Lady is so quiet that you didn’t hear her come up to you. The sound of your heart thumping in your ears definitely isn’t helping you there.

Her hand is holding yours tightly. The Lady doesn’t like touch, you know this for a fact as Miss Angie screams about it whenever you’re close. But she’s holding your hand right now. A breath of air puffs out from behind the Ladies’ veil, pushing it slightly away from her face. Your hand gets warmer. The thumping in your ears let’s up ever so slightly. A moment later, a whisper so quiet you’re not sure it was real comes from the woman in front of you.

“Does this help you?” It’s raspy. It’s low. It sounds like it may have hurt to say. The Lady doesn’t speak at all, ever. She hasn’t spoken to you once in the few months you’ve been serving her, preferring to use Miss Angie as her mouthpiece. But she just spoke to you. She asked you a question and you’re just staring at her like a fool. You stammer out a response before she can move away.

“Y-yes, yes my Lady. Thank you. I am sorry for the inconvenience.” Your breath is coming back to you. Your heart is calming. She gives your hand a hard squeeze. Your heart is picking back up for a new reason and you can feel the blush creeping onto your cheeks. The Lady nods and pulls you over to a seat at the island counter. A cup of tea sits in front of the place, freshly prepared. You didn’t make it. Lady Beneviento motions to it, a silent demand for you to drink it. You obey willingly. It’s hot, almost too hot, but it’s made to your exact liking.

Your nerves slowly die down and after a few sips it’s like nothing happened at all. The Lady gives your hand another gentle squeeze before releasing it and slowly gliding out of the kitchen without a word. You stare at the archway long after she’s left your line of sight.

Whoops, my hand slipped. And I may have started writing about Dragon Prince!Stanley Snyder.

[Image ID: A snippet of an ellipsus doc for the first chapter of A Dragon Prince Desires for That Which He Cannot Have. All writing is my own; please do not use it to train AI

“How does it feel to have all the available broodmares being offered to you on a silver platter, Stan?” inquired the playful yet mocking tone of the Prince’s trusted advisor and close confidant, as he observed the blond man sulking near the stables.

The Prince responded with a hiss, his displeasure evident to all, as his whiskey-hued eyes cast a glare over the head of the pitch-black stallion. “I do not wish to hear another word about it, Xeno.” Stanley gently ran a clawed hand over the silky mane of his esteemed horse while suppressing his frustration.

The silver-haired researcher leaned casually against the stall door, a grin playing on his lips. “Why not, my Prince? After all, you have the first choice among them,” he provocatively suggested, aware of how much it irritated the blond Prince to have been instructed to select a mate in the imminent future. Xeno watched as the brush used on the horse flew past his face, missing him by only a few centimeters.

End image ID]

Resident Evil 8, Fanfiction

Greetings fellow beings! I bring to you another day of Fictober! This one was such a headache to write but I enjoyed every second of it. I haven't written Donna in such a long time, but I had an idea for today's prompt and I knew I wanted to write it out. So enjoy a nice little Donna/Maid!OC chapter for today's Fictober entry, and as always feedback is appreciated!

~1,200 word count.

Day 6 - “This Is Annoying.”

You’re standing in the middle of a large room, one of the many large rooms in the Beneviento manors’ basement level, filled with fabrics of many varieties. Donna, quiet as ever, is at your side taking your measurements for the fifth time this week. She’s quiet. She always is. The other occupant in the room is not so quiet, however.

“You’re moving around too much, stupid! Stand still, completely still! Be like one of the dolls for the love of the Black God!” The talking doll, Angie, refuses to stop screaming at the top of her lungs at how you’re moving too much even though you are being as still as humanly possible. Donna huffs and the veil hanging over her face moves ever so slightly because of it. This is the most normal amount of emotion from her.

“Miss Angie, aside from not breathing, I can be no stiller I promise y-” A shrill screech erupts from the dolls’ mouth interrupting the end of your sentence and causing Donna to jolt. The silent woman looks towards her so fast that the veil over her face almost lifts allowing you to get a peek at her sharp jawline. The doll goes stone still as the dollmaker faces her. After a moment, Donna looks back to you to finish measuring and the doll sits on the ground crossing her arms but still staring at you.

Time passes by at a snail's pace as measurements are taken, fabrics are held up against your body and colors are changed around. You can’t help when your mouth opens and words spill out. “This is annoying.” You were never good at holding your tongue. The dollmaker stops in her tracks and her face is locked on yours. You regret opening your mouth as the doll in the room opens her mouth again.

“MAYBE IF YOU WOULD STOP CHANGING SO MUCH IN THE SPAN OF A DAY WE WOULDN’T HAVE TO BE HERE AGAIN.” You instinctually have to reach up to cover your ears as the glass shattering screaming comes from the dolls’ open mouth. Admittedly, it doesn’t sound angry or anything like that, more so annoyed, just like you currently are. 

Donna doesn’t bother looking back at her as she silences the doll with a single hand motion, causing the dolls’ mouth to snap shut before she can say anything more. You slowly ease your hands away from your ears and Donna is still staring, at least you assume she is, at you. After some moments of mutual staring, she puts her hands on your shoulders and gives them a comforting squeeze before she whispers to you.

“I am sorry tesoro mio, this must be done.” Her voice is low, dark, and raspy. The pet name gives you goosebumps along the back of your neck and causes a slight blush to creep up onto your cheeks as you nod so she may continue her work. 

You know it needs to be perfect. Not only does Donna herself crave perfection when it comes to making clothing, but there’s an important meeting between the Lords coming up and Donna is bringing you with her. It would not reflect well on her if she brought a poorly dressed maid.

It takes some more time than the last, but eventually it’s over. Donna has picked out a lovely dark red for the dress that you imagine goes incredibly well with your natural copper hair color. Angie had been moving around the workshop helping Donna grab things but she’d been quiet since the outburst.

Donna dismisses you from the room soon afterwards and you make your way through the winding hallways of the basement to the creaky old elevator. The ride back to the surface is short and uninterrupted. Where do you want to go now? You’re a maid in name only. Donna doesn’t force you to do anything unless she deems it absolutely necessary, like taking your measurements five times in one week. Angie isn’t going to like hearing you complain about that for the next month or so but it will be fun to poke at her.

You decide it’s still early enough to wander outside and enjoy some tea before the sun dips below the horizon, so you head to the kitchen to brew a quick cup. The entire time you’re in the kitchen, and on the walk to the kitchen, you can feel the many little eyes on you. Donna is a dollmaker, the manor is nearly covered roof to floorboards with them. All of them dressed in different clothing with unique hairstyles and colored eyes. All of them watch you whenever you walk by.

You’ve grown semi used to Donna’s near obsessive watching. You don’t understand completely how it works, but you know she uses the dolls as some sort of surveillance, like how Angie can move and talk all by herself. So you’re not incredibly weirded out when a doll moves its head to watch you in the kitchen. It makes no noise, but the eyes follow your every movement. It watches as you take a tea bag out of the container conveniently left out on the counter. It watches as you put a kettle on the stove and set it to boiling.

Different dolls watch as you move to the library to find a book. The book you had left unfinished sits on a small table right next to another doll. You grab it and take it back to the  kitchen. You find the sugar already placed on the counter for you when you get back. You fill a rather large mug and dump two sugar cubes into it before making your way to the front door to find your slippers already waiting for you. 

The door opens smoothly and without noise as you exit the lonely manor and out onto its porch. As soon as you’re out of the building, the roar of the waterfall from behind the manor takes over all of the other possible noises. You decide to take a seat on the side facing the cliff, intent on watching the sun go down for the day.

A doll sits on the same bench as you, though its eyes are glued to you and not the evening sun off in the distance. She’s always watching you. There’s a comfort to knowing that and it causes a smile to crawl onto your face.

Resident Evil 8, Fanfiction

Heyo! Another shorter one but still one I enjoyed writing. Heisenberg stays living her mad scientist lifestyle and reader is along for the ride!

TW: Canon Typical Violence, Description of a Dead Body.

~420 word count.

Day 22 - “And How Did That Work Out?”

Deep in the depths of the factory, you were working alongside Heisenberg. A body lay on the table in front of you, mutilated beyond recognition. The arms were replaced by metal rods, the torso heavily scarred from being opened up and having the insides toyed with and the head was covered in a metal casing. This was what Heisenberg was naming “Soldat.” This is what the lonesome woman had been working on for so long, what you have been helping her with for the past few months.

The two of you step away from the table and over towards the wall where a switch is. The switch is connected to a large coil of wires that connect to the table the body is laying on. Flipping this switch should send the power needed through to kickstart the heavily modified motor acting as a heart in the Soldats chest. Heisenberg flips the switch. A moment passes and the lights in the room flicker as electricity is pulled and directed into the body causing it to jerk up angrily, the muscles contracting like it’s alive.

The motor in the middle of the chest flares to life and a deep red light emits from it. The motor whirrs and the light gets brighter and brighter until the noise reaches a crescendo. The circuitry sparks and the body stops moving. The motor dies out, the light fading alongside it. The woman next to you sighs. It’s a long and annoyed sound that you have grown very used to hearing.

“I forgot to replace the wiring… like you said I should do.” An admission of forgetfulness and a nod that you were correct when you pointed out the faulty wiring. You knew it would cause an issue but the “Lady” had been too excited to finally get it up and running to care.

You smirk and look over to her. “And how did that work out?” She meets your eyes but you can’t see how she’s reacted to your joking jab in the dim light of the room. The fact that she’s still wearing her signature sunglasses is also not helping you.

Resident Evil 8, Fanfiction

Hey hey party people! I bring you another Donna/Reader chapter! No dialogue in this one, just slight worldbuilding and explanation of Donna's power, hope you enjoy the read!

~520 word count.

Day 15 - “It’s Rather Complicated.”

You’re in the greenhouse with Donna. It’s a larger building on the backside of the Beneviento manor. The view of the cliffside and the waterfall just behind the home makes for some beautiful scenery to contend with, but the inside of the glass structure puts up an amazing attempt at winning that non-existent contest. The building is littered top to bottom and all across the ground in plants of various types and sizes. You’re told that there are plants from all over the world in this garden, and you believe it.

You’re not in the greenhouse for idle time and appreciation however. Donna is starting to trust you just a little more recently and this is something that she wanted to show. A portion of the glass building is set aside for seedlings, baby plants that need to be nurtured before being planted in the harsh outdoors of Romania. Many of these plants are the pale yellow flowers planted around the estate. These are the flowers she takes you too.

She shows you how to tell when they’re mature enough to be moved and when they should be left alone for more time. She shows you just how to remove them from their home in the dirt without harming the plant, how to keep the roots and flowers from getting damaged. She stresses the importance of this, how the plant needs to stay healthy in order for it to continue living, and if it takes any damage in this moving phase then it should be considered dead. 

You know how important it is, even if she doesn’t outright tell you herself. You know that all the Lords’ have special… abilities. The flowers are a huge part of Donna’s power. You know it from experience, though you didn’t know what caused it at the time. The pollen released by the flower causes hallucinations in those that breathe it in. Donna has precise control over those hallucinations. When you found out, you asked her what it was like and how it worked. Her response was a simple “It’s rather complicated” and you were given no more since.

After some hours of plantwork on your knees, Donna shows you how they need to be stored. There’s a special cooler that Donna keeps the plants in after they’ve been uprooted and await replanting that you just can’t quite grasp the technology of. It keeps the plants refrigerated essentially, and that’s all you need to understand.

Resident Evil 8, Fanfiction

Hello people! This one's shorter, a lot shorter, than the ones I've written so far and that kinda saddens me but this day had me really stuck lol. Still am happy with what I've got though and hope whoever reads it is too! Got some Cass/Reader flirting for today, my personal favorite mhm.

~650 word count.

Day 7 - “You’ll Have To Try Harder Than This.”

You fall down and hit the mat hard once again. You don’t know how many times you’ve been laid out, you don’t know how long you’ve been going at it. You do know that if you ever had to actually fight someone that was experienced, you would be killed easily. But that’s what training is for.

Cassandra is not taking it easy on you. She hits hard and moves extremely fast. She doesn’t have the title of “Huntress of House Dimitrescu” for nothing. She is very clearly a fighter, a very good one at that. Or maybe you’re just extremely bad at it. You’re willing to bet on the former option.

You are bruised, out of breath and all around in pain, but the hand she offers to you while you’re on the ground is taken anyway. She hauls you up to your feet and your lungs burn with the effort it takes to stay standing. She takes some steps away to the other side of the makeshift arena and gets into a fighting stance. You retreat to your side and retake the stance she taught you. 

When you first started this training with her, you didn’t think it would be a serious thing. It was meant to be a way of spending time with the girl and an attempt to take interest in things she liked. After the first time she threw you into the ground and held you there, it quickly grew into something more. She wanted you to be able to defend yourself, you wanted to spend time with her and maybe be able to actually pose a challenge to her at some point. It worked out perfectly in a way you hadn’t originally intended it to.

Stuck in your head she’s already moving towards you and you’re forced to match her pace. She throws a hook out slower than she had been, clearly noticing that you weren’t completely there in the moment, and you are still only just able to move your head out of the way. You counter with a quick jab towards her direction and she grabs your arm and twists. You fold over and she is easily able to lift you off the ground and over her shoulder and onto the mat below. Again.

She takes in a deep breath of the stuffy air in the armory and lets out a deep and hearty chuckle as she stares down at you. There’s a wide smile on her face and it’s clear she’s enjoying this time just as  much as you are. You smile back at her and she offers her hand out to you again. As she lifts you up and onto your feet, her mouth opens. “You’ll have to try harder than this. As much as I do enjoy throwing you on your back and having my way with you, you’ll have to change the way you approach our bouts.”

You know she’s right. As much as you enjoy having her throw you on your back, the bruises are going to hurt in the morning. And you would much rather have her throw you onto her bed, the mattress is just so soft. You sigh and shake your head at her. “I know Cass, I’m trying I promise, but you’re just too fast for me.”

Her smile grows wider. “You wanna beg me to go slower for you” A blush easily finds a home on your face but you nod your head in the negative and move back to your starting spot on the mat. She looks impressed for a moment but then a wolfish grin is plastered on her face as she moves back to her starting position.

Resident Evil 8, Fanfiction

Hello, hello! Was kinda stumped for today I'll be completely honest. Had an idea to start and then changed it and went a COMPLETELY different direction, but I'm okay with how this turned out. Is this a continuation of a previous chapter? Maybe! Enjoy the read and as always, feedback is appreciated.

~1,100 word count.

TW: Canon Typical Violence.

Day 5 - “But You Promised!”

You’re dreaming, you know you are. But the dream isn’t quite just a dream. It’s a memory. A bad one. The day you left your home to come to the castle. Your sister did not take kindly to the news and it pained you so much to do it anyway. It was a necessary choice in the end but it hurt nonetheless.

The sky is dark, filled with clouds full of icy cold rain that’s just waiting for a reason to burst. The sun is nowhere in sight but it’s still somehow light out as if the sky were perfectly clear. You’re at the bottom of Luiza’s steps to her manor, suitcase in hand, and your sister stands at the top with tears gathering in her eyes. Her words echo in your ears like you’re in a very long tunnel.

“But you promised!” You did promise. You are currently breaking said promise. You told her that you would never leave her to go to the castle. The place where all of her friends had gone. The place where none of them had ever come back from. You want so badly to put the suitcase down. You want so badly to run up the stairs and throw your arms around your beloved little sister. The suitcase is heavy in your hands but your grip is ironclad. 

You murmur out an apology that you’re sure doesn’t quite reach her ears. Even if it did, you’re more sure that it would do nothing at all to alleviate the hurt that she is experiencing. The tears that had been building in her eyes finally break away and stream down her face, as does the rain burst from the sky. You turn away from her then, it’s a long trek up to the castle.

Her sobs remain in your hearing range far longer than they should. You can hear her crying and begging for you to come back all the way up to the Maiden of War statue in the village center. They finally start to ebb away as you start down the muddy path leading from this part of the village to the castle. The cobblestone road would take you along a much longer path and you really want to get out of this rain.

The path dips ever so slightly into the forest and you hesitate before steeling yourself. You will most likely be admonished for arriving in such a state, but you’re already drenched. That’s a problem for later. The trees creep in on your personal space and they start to blot out the daylight that you did have. After some seconds of walking in the pouring rain, you can’t even see the sky anymore. Above you is a canopy of leaves so thick it looks like the night sky.

There’s a growl a few feet away to your left and some rustling in the brush. You hasten your pace. The Lycans go away once winter ends, but sometimes there’s a few that linger for a couple weeks into spring. You don’t want to be eaten out here, though if rumors are to be believed, you may be eaten at your destination. The rest of the trek through the woods is uneventful. No more rustling of bushes, the trees eventually gave way to the darkened sky again.

The castle can be seen from the bottom of the hill you’ve found yourself in. It’s a very large structure. It cuts a very imposing figure across the mountainous backdrop. Still you carry on. Still you grow farther away from your sister.

You wake up eventually, you don’t think you ever reached the castle in the dream, but that isn’t the point. You hope your sister doesn’t hate you for the choice that you made. You should get out of bed. A quick look at the small watch on your bedside table shows that it is closing in on the time that Lady Bela likes to be awoken at.

So you get out of bed, quickly get dressed and ready for the tasks of the day. It feels weird looking into the mirror making sure to fix the brooch on your collar to your Ladies’ specifications but you do it nonetheless. You take a step outside your door and down the hall. You have your own room in the same corridor as Lady Bela, that was another thing to get used to.

The Ladies’ door isn’t locked as you let yourself in quietly and make your way to the window. The dark satin curtains dangle from the ceiling, blotting out any natural light that could make its way inside. You pull them open swiftly. The sun is just starting to rise up into the sky, the perfect timing. Without having to go near the bed, you can already hear some of the blankets moving around, the light from outside quickly having the intended effect.

“Good morning Lady Bela, I am about to prepare your bath.” A low grumble is the only response you’re given. You’ve grown used to that. Lady Bela likes to be awake earlier than the rest of the castle, yet she is not a morning person at all. You make your way to her personal bathroom and prepare a hot bath. According to her, all of the daughters share a love for near scalding hot baths. You throw a nice amount of vanilla scents into it, she was very specific that the only thing she wanted put into her bath was that and nothing else.

After the tub is full, you move back out into the bedroom to find Lady Bela sitting up in her bed staring out towards the window. She pays you no mind as you go to a closet and pull out one of many long, black dresses. You set the dress out on her table next her vanity desk and move onto getting her jewelry ready for her as well. About halfway through, she switched to watching you. You could feel it, like a sixth sense. Like a predator watching prey. She says nothing as you finish your duty. Everything is ready for her, you just await your dismissal.