Playing Dangerous - Mother Miranda/readerWarning For Explicit Content.

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

Chapter 11: Exes

Summary:

Mia and Philip biting the curb in 4k.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" - she sighs. 

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

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

.

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why not? You can-" 

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

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

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

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

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

"Be a darling and do that for me , while I'm getting dressed." - bow that she has mentioned it , you can't ignore the exposed skin of her thighs, as the only clothing she's currently possessing is a thin white shirt that doesn't leave much room for your imagination - her chest and underwear easily spotted by your enchanted eyes. Why would she even bother with wearing more clothes after she allowed you to explore her whole body the previous night. - "Somebody probably got lost and needs help with directions." - she waves her hand in the air. - "Happens quite often." 

"And how often do you actually open the door?" - you tease, knowing she's totally the type of person to ignore the ringing sound of the bell for hours if needed. You're still surprised you've managed to force her out of bed the first time you two met. 

"Just go." - a command you're ready to follow, a single click of her tongue is enough to lift you up of your seat and guide your steps to the main entrance. Meanwhile Miranda takes the path back to her bedroom upstairs. 

The bell continues to ring, not giving you a break, as you slowly make your way to the door, eyes twitching in annoyance. Can't they wait a little? You quickly unlock the door, putting the keys in your pocket. Then you press the handle and finally fulfill the desires of the person from outside - for the door to be opened. 

The woman  revealed stands a little bit taller than you, though her gaze falls upon your body as if you're a worm in her feet. Her  eyes darken once she realises you're not familiar to her. She shakes her head, the wind blows through her dark locks of hair - a nice earth colour of brown, suiting her pale skin. The smile on her face looks more than forced. 

"Who are you?" - she narrows her eyes, although she looks like a sweet lady, the tone of her voice hints that she's not so very keen on being nice to other people. The anxious tapping of her feet on the concrete floor beneath her adds to her overall character. 

"I'm-" 

"You know what? I don't really care." - even she cannot begin to explain why she asked. Curiosity, that's it. Or more like confusion, as why the woman she's in search for doesn't open the door like she wants her to do. The unfamiliar woman waves her hand towards the mansion. Her voice is demanding. - "Fetch me Miranda." 

So she's not just somebody. Judging by how desperate she looks, in need to see Miranda. Yet you can't just call her now , can you? You have to understand who you're dealing with first. You clear your throat before crossing your hands behind your back , as if you want to hide from her, appearing smaller, weaker. Letting her think you're defenseless. 

"I didn't quite catch your name?" - her eyebrows furrow, yet you stand your ground. - "If you would be so kind to-"

"Mia." - she doesn't bother with a last name, not like you need it anyway. So that's Mia, the Mia, Miranda's Mia. The fact that you're standing face to face with the woman's you've just slept with ex girlfriend stuns you. Your body freezes , your head tilts downwards , your eyes try their best to not meet up with hers. - "I'm one of her colleagues, just call her so I can talk with her about-" 

"Miranda hates you." - you hiss out , still not daring to look directly at her. Anger twists your hands into fists. Will Miranda be proud, if you manage to give Mia the beating she deserves? Hatred might not be the blonde's woman exact emotion towards Mia, but you know very well love is already out of the picture. 

"Excuse me?" - you're not the only one spitting venom out. As she sounds both extremely mad and confused. 

"I doubt she wants to see you." - finally you built the courage to lift up your head , a ball of anxiety shoved in your throat as you speak. You're not speaking Miranda's thoughts out loud, you're speaking yours. You don't even acknowledge the finger that pokes Mia's chest while you clench your jaw. - "Ever. Again." 

"Who the fuck are you?" - the woman gets fed up with your insolence. Your back hits the outside wall of the mansion, showing you exactly how rough and cold the texture is, once Mia decides to move forward. With her teeth bared and eyes widened, she resembles a monster, which claws are guided by anger. Her fingertips tug hard on your collar, threating to rip it apart. It's only when your own hands begin to fight her, that her crazy looking eyes manage to take a peak from underneath your shirt, specifically your neck area - where Miranda's love bites are on full display. Her madness forces her to laugh. - "I see how it is." 

The ghost from Miranda's past, the ghost that shouldn't be here at all, releases you. Mia crosses her arms in front of her chest, observing closely as you try to put your shirt back in place , determined to hide the red scars around your neck and shoulders. She smiles revealing a nice set of teeth. 

"Miranda fucks like a beast, doesn't she?" - although the sonority of her voice is low , she makes sure you hear her and the mocking laugh that comes after it. - "It's almost funny, for a mighty women like her, to be acting like a whore whenever she gets the chance to." 

Mia's walking on very thin ice. Your fists are impatiently waiting to meet up with her face. 

"Why are you-" 

"Don't consider yourself  special, girl." - she pats your hair , and you loose time in shaking your head , instead of smacking her hand away, because she quickly gets a hold of your locks and pulls hard , forcing you to hiss out of pain. - "And don't think she slept with you out of anything else but desperation. She can't help herself when she feels needy." - Mia tightens her grip , threating to rip off your hair , along with the skin covering your skull. - "Remember well the fact that she seems to so easily forget - no matter what she does , and who she does it with , Miranda stays mine, my whore. Mine" 

Your squirming pays off. A strong knee successfully connects with Mia's stomach, or more like her upper thigh , as your hits is strong but not well calculated. The woman groans out, clearly not taking well pain the same way Miranda does it. Her hands disappear from the roots of your hair , only to wrap around her abdomen. The sound of her teeth madly crashing at eachother can be almost heard from the distance you've managed to create between the two of you. 

"How dare you talk like that about the woman who is still grieving about her lost love over you." - you would never believe that you'll be defending Miranda as fiercely as currently. Your finger shakes , from anger or deep sympathy, you're not so sure, while you point at Mia. Her face expression is hard to read. - "You treat her like an object, lacking ownership." - your ears manage to catch the sound of quiet steps somewhere behind you, yet your mind refuses to pay attention. - "But you fail to realise how much more she is." 

"And for what good she's worth?" - the audacity she forces into her voice deserves to be slapped away. In fact, your palm is very close to running across her cheek. If it wasn't for the tender hand that tugs on your shoulder. You don't pay it much attention while answering Mia's unbelievable question. 

"Start treating her like an actual human with real feelings, for which you care about, and you'll see." - Miranda is mean , Miranda is rude , Miranda lacks the feeling of being appreciated. Yet by getting to know her better, you've learnt she at least deserves the bare minimum. Something Mia is incapable of giving her. 

"Go back inside, darling." - her voice is smoothing, breath hot at the shell of your ear. Mia's jealousy can be seen from kilometers away, her eyes focused on the way Miranda's arms are wrapped around your waist, in attempt to pull you backwards. You give the blonde woman beside you a concerned look. Both of you understand your wish to not leave her alone. A conversation between her and Mia, however, is needed. And it's you who have  to step aside. 

You do it. For Miranda's sake only. One mean glare , a warning, is sent in Mia's direction right before you walk back inside the mansion, the two huge doors locking behind you. 

"I don't recall giving you an invitation, Mrs.Winters." - Miranda has always felt uneasy around her past lover , yet  she tries her best to compose herself, with her back straightened and chin high, she likes to force her authority over the other woman. - "So why are you here?" 

"Oh , drop the formalities, Miranda." - the taller woman's face stays emotionless. Mia's attempt to move closer to her is cut by a strong arm, lifting up to keep her distance. A shake of Miranda's head is a warning that keeps Mia at bay. - "We both know you're not like this." 

"You still haven't answered my question, i don't like repeating myself." - she keeps her tone cold , not allowing any voice cracks that are so temptingly scratching at the base of her throat out. It's been months since her last meeting with Mia, she can't keep the emotions lurking inside her for long. - "And I'm getting impatient." 

"Eveline..." - Mia swallows, now it's her own turn to glue her eyes to the floor. Miranda tends to be intimidating without even realising it , but she has never forced the effect of fear inside the brunette's body.- "I'm here to see Evie." 

"Your real reason, Mia." - her actual name is spoken out loud, at what cost, however? Anger twists her voice in an almost screaming matter. It sent shivers down Mia's spine. She hasn't seen her beloved in so long , the rough treatment she's getting is not something she's expecting. But Miranda is done with locking herself around her neck everytime they meet up, forgetting completely about all the pain Mia has made her feel. - "You stopped caring about Eveline very long ago." 

"I haven't seen you in months." - Mia doesn't allow herself to be as rude to Miranda as she is with you. Despite the anger traveling along her veins , she knows how to play her game. She knows what Miranda likes to hear. - "I miss you." 

Convincing her has been easy before. Yet now , Mia faces an obstacle. 

"You ruined me , Mia." - Miranda's words strike the younger woman like sharp arrows, eager to meet up with her skin. Her heart skips a beat when the blue eyes she's so intensely staring at start to go darker and darker, hinting the missing emotions she's searching for. - "Now you owe me time to heal. Alone." 

"And how much exactly do i have to wait?" - she hisses out, chin tilting to the closed doors. - "Alone you say, meanwhile you're busy having fun with other women." 

"You don't even realise how much you're hurting me, do you?" - the skin under Miranda's eyes starts to colour itself in light, red shade. 

"And you?" - Mia exclaims, lifting her hands in the air, unbothered by the way she's practically screaming. - "Can't even wait for my back to turn before dragging another woman into your bed." - her arms extends to Miranda , then stops midway, knowing she's not allowed to touch her. She curses out loud. - "It's so easy for you to replace me!" 

"You have to be someone in order to be replaced, Mia." 

"Oh , so I'm nobody to you now?!" 

The blonde woman shakes her head, unbothered by the single tear that rolls down her cheek. She tries her best to stop her chin from shaking, her nails dig into her own skin , trying to replace the pain in her chest with another. 

"Miranda, please." - it's Mia who breaks into tears first, her voice almost unrecognisable. - "I still love-" 

"You made your choice years ago." - Miranda's hand wraps around the base of her throat, she breaths in and out , the wind blows golden locks of her still messy hair in front of her face , limiting Mia's vision that is so impatient to break into her personal space. - "Go back to your husband, Mia." 

The brunette's mouth opens to argue, to talk back , to defend herself. After a second, however, she hesitates. Mia knows she's guilty, and for the first time in years she doesn't feel the need to deny that fact. Miranda is a mighty woman, with a strong character, she's divine in so many ways. Mia felt powerful, knowing she has all of that in her hands, even after cutting their relationship into just casual fucking. You were right, she truly sees her an object. Owning her , however, it's impossible. 

The apology sent in Miranda's address is murmured, yet genuine. The blonde woman tries her best not to show how her body is weakly shaking as her past lover slowly makes her way  to her parked car. It's when she turns to look back , that Miranda's mind totally breaks. The burning tears are impossible to hold back. 

"Mia..." - she whispers. Her voice, though, devoid of softness. 

"Miranda." - the woman answers, taking a confident step forward. 

"Mia, please." - blue eyes observe her body, unexpectedly stopped in the middle, locked in her abdomen. - Take better care of this child than you did of Eveline." 

Mia's eyes open wide , her arms immediately wrapping around her stomach. She looks down, her fingers tugging on her loose shirt. And she begins to cry , for a completely different reason. Her breath hitches once she looks eyes with Miranda again. 

"How did you-"

"Goodbye, Mrs.Winters" - the doors behind Miranda open and she takes a step inside. She doesn't allow herself to look back , knowing she won't take the view very well. The sound of tires rolling down the old road matches perfectly with the thud of the now closed doors. Mia's gone , hopefully for a long time. 

Miranda's knees feel weak , unable to carry her body weight. Her chest itches from the inside, she composes the urge to dig her fingers deep inside her skin and tear her heart apart. Love is a weakness, an allergy, a death threat. She'll never allow herself to be this weak again. Yet...at such moments her loneliness craves for attention. 

"Darling..?" - she voices out , a hand rubbing at the base of her throat, right above her collarbone. Her mouth fills up with saliva, as if she's about to throw up. Hatred is a weak word to describe the things she's currently feeling. 

"Darling?" - Miranda realises very well what is happening to her, judging by the way her breathing becomes more rapid and ragged , her head spinning, mind dizzy. At some point she hits herself in a doorframe, she doesn't care , she feels no pain. She struggles to get enough air filling her lungs , meanwhile her body tries Its best to get more oxygen, making her completely lightheaded. 

"Little deer, show yourself." - she orders , she begs , she hopes for someone to hear. You're not the kitchen, where are you? She can't keep this up. Her fingers go through the roots of her hair. Her head spinning around. - "I need... darling?" 

"Miranda, are you calling for me?" - something in her tight chest snaps and she runs to you the moment you peak your head through the kitchen door. She shoves her face in the crook of your neck , her body glued to yours , the sobs that break through her are impossible for containing. - "Sorry i was upstairs and...-Shit are you crying?" 

She shakes, your hands don't waste time in wrapping themselves around her, palms gently rubbing her shoulder blades. You start to feel uneasy, this Miranda has nothing to do with the one from yesterday, even when she was close to crying in the restaurant. The woman , currently stitched to your chest, is in a complete breakdown, unable to stop her tears and quiet cries. You have no idea how to comfort her, simple because you've never seen her in such state. You know she tends to be emotional, but that's a whole other story. The best thing that comes to mind is...to just be there. You place your head on her shoulder and pull her impossible close, once you try to match with her breathing you notice she begins to calm down. 

"I didn't know..." - she murmurs, taking in a deep breath. - "didn't know she was pregnant." 

Miranda's fingers are now playing with the edges of your hair , as she tries to think of anything else but Mia. Your chest fills up with a guilt, once you remember you did hit Mia's stomach in an act of anger. Yet that feeling fades when she pulls away and her puffed, flushed face shines in front you. You're quick to cup her cheeks and press your forehead to hers. 

"Love...she says she still loves me." - her lips twitch when that simple word slips past them, you kiss her gently, showing her tenderness, comfort. - "But she shows up pregnant, that's...humiliation. And she knows, she know she's carrying his child , yet she drives all the way here to tell me she misses me. And for what?" 

"To mock you, she's mocking you." - you answer instead of her, giving her enough time to process her thoughts before every other gentle kiss placed on her lips. Your chest fills up with a nice warmth when she begins to return those kisses without you guiding her into it. 

"Did she scare you, darling?" - your arms finds themselves missing her a second after she departs from you. That's until her thumbs brush along your cheekbones. - "Mia can get rather...aggressive." 

"That's true, but I'm okay, Mira." - you trace tender circles over the skin of her hands, smiling now that her breathing is back to normal. She tilts her head. - "Promise." 

"Good." - Miranda whispers. - "Because I truly need a cigarette." 

.

.

.

Miranda hasn't moved from her balcony for almost two hours straight. Two hours in which she did nothing but try her best to  empty a freshly new box of cigarettes. You find that impossible fascinating, giving the fact that the brand she's smoking isn't exactly light, as the cigarettes are thick and hard to finish whole. Her normal sweet perfume is now dominated by the smell of smoke and nicotine. 

Even if she drowns herself in all this poison, it won't change the expression she has on her face. One you can only see in old renaissance paintings, she truly looks like a piece of art - you only wish she didn't look as sorrowful as she did. Sadness is truly a great emotion that doesn't need to be shared, in order to awaken sympathy in a person's soul. Though your truly hate to see her in such state. 

Miranda's shoulders roll backwards once you open the clear balcony door and walk outside, light breeze begins to play with loosen locks of your hair. You pull a chair, positioning it close to her ,but not enough to break through her personal space. Her gaze stays locked forward, in the endless sea of large, green trees. A magnificent view. You , however, fail to realise how she doesn't get bored of looking at it. Two hours is not a short period of time. Hints that the trees are of no interest to her, as she's lost in her own mind. 

"You're still not tired of smoking?" - you voice out , in both concern and surprises. Then you clear your throat when she doesn't bother in giving you an answer, you try your best to sound reasonable  - "It's not good for you, Mira."  

"If I don't smoke, I'll drink." - she takes yet another puff of her cigarette, a tender wall of smoke covers her face a few seconds after. Her voice is rougher than usual, the movements of her hands , of her body - slow and uncalculated. - "If i don't drink I'll sleep and that feels like a waste of time." 

"Why not get some work done, then?" - you suggest, hoping her workaholic nature will show up. You're even close to proposing helping her around the laboratory as well. Your words actually manage to awaken movements within her, you smile once she turns her head to you. Not returning your gesture however. 

"Do you know why I'm working from home?" - she asks , her lips barely moving. You shake your head, earning yourself a sigh. - "I couldn't stand looking at Mia after... everything" - she tosses the burning stub of her cigarette on the floor, her foot stomping it immediately, while her hands wave around. And you nod , remember how the brunette woman from earlier said she and Miranda are colleagues. - "Watching in the corners while her oh so loving husband comes to bring her lunches." - her hands form into fists and she presses her back completely to the chair. - "As if I can't cook, as if I can't take better care of..." - she stops to look at, a sorrowful flame dancing inside her eyes. Her arm extents to grab the cigarette box on the table next to her. - "I refuse to feel that humiliation ever again." 

Miranda lets those unfamiliar sounding curses to occupy her lips , while she holds yet another cigarette between her teeth. Her fingers are inpatient while they try to light up the tip of it, it takes you a moment to realise she's shaking, therefore not being able to transfer her desires directly into her hands. You cannot take the view. 

"Okay, that's enough." - the look you receive after stealing the cigarette from between her lips just before she can take her first puff after finally managing to light it up is genuine confusion. Then her eyebrows furrow in anger,  though she doesn't exactly show it. Yes , she tries to grab it again, failing miserably when you move to a side, but her body movements are lazy , as if she's not trying hard enough. 

"Darling, it's my last one." - she attempts to snatch it again, her fingers barely brushing against the skin of your forearm as you move your chair further away from her. She growls. - "Don't torture me as well." 

You dare not speak to her. In fact, your eyes don't even cross hers once your own lips wrap around the cigarette and you inhale hard, in hope to finish it faster. Clouds of smoke fill up your lungs , making it hard to breathe. You exhale it in short, coughed up breaths. Meanwhile Miranda's chair creaks, now devoid of her weight. 

"That's not how you do it." - she comments, her body now standing still in front of you. 

"I don't care." - the smoke rises up from the smoldering tip of the cigarette, curling and swirling in the air. You're unbothered, even when you begin to find it difficult to breathe. How does Miranda likes all of this smoke, this smile and the dizziness that comes with it? 

"You'll hurt yourself." - she's calm, you can judge by the way her voice changes. Once you finish the cigarette - you mimic her previous self and throw it on the ground, right next to a small pile of ashes. Then you look at her from beneath your eyelashes. To your surprise, a smirk is lurking in the corners of her lips. Your hand grabs the now empty box and you crush it with your palms , making sure there's no poison left for her. 

"There - no more cigarettes." - you stand up, lifting your head, not cutting eye contact. A single finger of yours points to the inside of the mansion. - "If you want I'll go and drunk all of your alcohol." - you lick your dry lips. - "Shall it means your attention will fall on me." 

Miranda laughs. An actual, ringing and sweet laugh, filled with amusement. Her eyes begin to sparkle with joy. You allow her to pull you into a hug, not wasting time in shoving your head into her chest. Her warmth covers you nicely, while you wrinkle your nose at the strong smell of nicotine coming from her. It's not as bad as before, however, now that you're also covered in it. 

"I think it's time to go get the girls back home." - she suggests, running her palms down your back. 

"Is that an excuse for you to buy yourself more cigarettes, Miranda?" - how convenient, to remember she needs to pick her daughters up right after her favourite poison is no  longer available. 

"The store is on the way." - she whispers, lifting your chin up with tender fingers. You can't help the smile that urges on your lips when she pulls you close for a kiss. - "Why waste the chance?" 

***** 

You don't end up in a store, but a familiar gas station instead, as Miranda's car happened to be out of fuel. You remember being here a few months ago, with wet clothes from the rain, freezing inside the building as the air coordinator was on. The weird old man behind the cash register telling you nobody lives in the distant mansion. You'll like to see his face while you tell him the woman who's currently paying him for the gas is pretty much the woman he swore didn't exist. 

It's only now that you realise how much time has passed and how exactly your relationship with Miranda has changed. It's weird to think about it. No complains, however, happen to cross your mind. 

Your head tilts to a side, gaze landing on a white car parked next to yours. From inside comes out a man. He's wearing a hoodie. Even though he's standing with his back turned to you, no difficulty in recognising the pattern on the fabric happens to get in your way. You know that hoodie well, because you spent a good amount of time trying to decide if you should get it. It was for a gift , a birthday gift. For your boyfriend...well ex boyfriend. 

What the hell is Philip doing here? You widen your eyes , in half fear and unsurenes, in what to do. You press your back the leather seat, hoping Miranda will come sooner so you can go before the man realises his ex girlfriend is standing right behind him. You find yourself praying he won't turn around. Yet the gods seem to be absent. 

His eyes immediately cross with yours the moment he turns in your direction. Both of you take in a sharp breath, just standing there , glaring at eachother. Then Philip moves forward, closer to you. Fuck. You bite your lower lip, fingers nervously pulling at your seatbelt. A tap on your window makes you jump. Your head turns and you're met with a soft smile. You force yourself to roll down your window.

"Hey." - he voices out, low and tenderly. A tone so very different than the last time he spoke to you. When you broke up with him over the phone. 

"Hey." - you return, the sound that slips past your lips is pure unsurenes. 

You both look at eachother in silence for a moment. There's so much to be said , yet none of you decides to go there. Not now, not here. 

"You...what are you doing here?" - a question sent in his regard ,whose answer your ears desire to hear. Philip looks to a side , down the old road. His fingers lift up to scratch his head. 

"A friend invited me over" - he starts, licking his lips. You note that he finds it hard to find the right words, as if you make him uncomfortable. This has never happened before, he was always smooth with his speech around you. - "For a birthday party." -  he specifies and you nod to show him you understand. Philip clears his throat once your eyes shift to the gas station, whose doors open automatically and a tall, blonde figure walks out. - "How about you? What are you doing here?" 

"Just passing by..." - you don't even pay attention to your answer while you continue to watch Miranda getting closer and closer to the car, she's looking down into her phone, distracted. 

"Alone?" - Philip points to the empty driver's seat. 

"No, with..." - what is your relationship with Miranda again? - "...my boss." 

Miranda opens her door the moment the words come out of your mouth. She quickly positions herself in her seat , the black seatbelt immediately going around her torso, as she's keen on safety. You're not surprised when you spot the not one , but two freshly new cigarette boxes in her lap. 

Your head spins from her back to Philip. You find him horrified. His lips are slightly parted, as if he wants to scream but his body doesn't allow it. He looks completely frozen in his place, with widened, unblocking eyes. A closer observation points out his trembling hands. Meanwhile his whole face is covered in extreme fear. 

"You..." - he whispers, slowly bowing his head in Miranda's direction. As she turns to look at who's so pathetically murmuring that close to her , a vicious smile curls the edges of her lips upwards.

"Hush, little boy." - she  waves her hand towards the open window on her side - "I think you've got the wrong car." 

"I apologise, I-" 

"Wait." - you voice out , earning yourself an eyebrow arc from Miranda and a confused look from Philip. He's clearly scared of the woman, not like you blame him - she tends to be scary. Yet , he can't just be as horrified as he is without seeing her in the past. - "Do you know her?" 

He hesitates, biting his lip and looking to a side, ignoring your questions and trying his best to avoid your glance. Instead of rooting an answer out of him, however, you get it from someone else. 

"No." - Miranda scoffs , unbothered by the situation, she  inserts the key into the ignition and turns it until the engine roars to life. 

"No..." - Philip repeats, though not as convincing as Miranda. He takes a step back , shaking his head. You open your mouth, so many questions trying to escape, waiting to be spoken out. You fail in that , because the radio begins to play nearly the same time with your window rolling back up. 

Miranda drives away as fast as she possibly can. Leaving Philip at the gas station, sadly waving you goodbye. 

.

.

.

There's no way they know eachother. Right? Miranda just have this effect on people, on men. She hates them, therefore she feels no need to be charming with them. Right? But Philip's fear felt somehow different, deeper and...personal. And Miranda...she acts weird very often, but this was very unusual even for her. They can't know eachother, they can't. ...Right?

"Stop the car." - you command. 

"Why?" - Miranda doesn't feel the need to look at you, she just continues to keep her eyes on the road, always the careful driver she is. When you repeat your wish she groans annoyed. - "No, darling, we're almost there I'm not going to-" 

"Stop the damn car, Miranda!" - you find yourself practically screaming at her , extending your arms , in attempt to grab the the steering wheel. She slaps your hands away the moment they move too close to her personal space. The car makes a weird half turn before she manages to park it safely on the side of the road. 

"Are you trying to get us into a car crash?" - she huffs , running her fingers through her hair. She takes a deep breath in, then she gives you a concerned look. A soft palm cups your cheek , you, however, refuse to lean into her touch. - "Are you upset about Philip, darling?" 

"Don't call me that." - you grab her wrist, your fingertips making contact with the golden chain bracelet hooked around it. You push her hand back, a wave of confusion travels through her eyebrows. 

"Don't call you what? 'Darling?'" - she suggests. 

"He...used to call me that." - it's only now that you realise Miranda has given you this nickname nearly the same time you broke up with Philip. Adds more weirdness to the situation. 

"So?" - she growls when in attempt to touch you again - you deny her, sinking deeper into the back of your seat. - "I thought you were over him." 

"Miranda you-" - hesitation runs through your veins once her lips manage to get close enough to yours and brush against them. Your chest tightens when your palms push against her shoulders, her seatbelt is off , if you don't stop her now she might as well get on top of you with ease. - "Did your fuck my boyfriend?" 

"Ex boyfriend, darling, please." 

"I'm serious, Miranda!" - you don't bother with your nails digging into her skin. Though she doesn't show any signs of pain, she backs off , her eyes carefully observing the way your chest begins to lifts up and down rapidly. You're grateful for the window she rolls down, allowing fresh air to enter the car. - "I'm not stupid, nor I am blind. Did you do it?" 

"Ridiculous." - she mutters , voice low as a whisper. - "You know well i have no interest in men." 

"Yeah because they can't work you up the way want it, right?" - you blink fast , trying to prevent your voice from going higher, even though you're already screaming at her. Miranda purses her lips, although she's annoyed, she listens carefully. - "So you go after their girlfriends instead!" 

"I don't understand why you're getting so angry about something you wished to happen." - she clenches her jaw, still trying to be reasonable. Very few people are allowed to talk back to her with such audacity. You're in luck you're one of them. 

"What?" - you ask, out of breath. 

"I asked you." - she grabs her forehead. - "if you desire to know if he's cheating. You agreed." - she pauses , a small smile born of pride  appears on her lips. - "And you got your answer, correct?" 

"You're insane." - those words are old , but unforgettable, not once have you sent them to Miranda's regard. She's not as bothered by hearing them as she was before,  though now they manage to pull a string inside her chest, making her breath hitch. - "I can't believe you-" - you stop yourself, covering your mouth. - "What if I had told you I wanted him dead - would you have killed him?" 

"Anything to make you happy." - Miranda finds your question fascinatingly stupid. 

"I blamed him, Miranda." - you point at her, your face getting angrier with each reply she delivers, as every single one is totally unhinged. - "When it was your fault, I- didn't ask you to fuck him. You- he's innocent. And I broke up with him for your own selfish reasons, you-" 

"Do you think I'll ever allow a man to touch me , let alone take me the way you did last night?" - her fingers begin to play with the edges of her shirt, her head bowed low, golden hair slipping around her shoulders. - "He was so awfully drunk, it was easy to make him believe he slept with me, but darling trust me when i say this - I didn't touch him , at all." - she takes your hand in hers , you allow her to drag it to her lips and place gentle kisses along the path of your knuckles. - "Besides, i think it's time for you to stop worrying about your ex boyfriend and start thinking about your girlfriend instead." 

"I have no-" - you stop, blinking a few times to process her words. Half of your palm is already caressing her cheek , she guides it against her skin. - "Wait , you think of us like girlfriends?" 

"Well I certainly don't consider us friends with benefits, darling." - Miranda lets out a soft sigh when your fingers tug a few strings of hair behind her ear , then she closes her eyes as tender nail scratches land on her scalp. She doesn't mind it when you play with her hair, at all. 

"I didn't even know you considered us friends." - you joke, your other arm also extends until your palm finds the other side of her face. Then you tilt your head to a side, smiling when she open just one eye to look at you. - "Do you even have friends, Miranda?" 

"You're changing the topic." - oh, she doesn't have a single one. 

"Look...I don't mind being your girlfriend, or your friend in that matter." - you squeeze her cheeks, finding it extremely cute how she lazily opens her eyes to look at you. - "But you have to stop lying to me." - your thumb brushes with her bottom lip , since her seatbelt is off she can easily stretch her torso and kiss you, but you're still with it which limits your movements. - "Promise me." 

"You trust me?" - she questions, finding it hard to believe.

"I know you didn't fuck him, Miranda." - he doesn't stand a chance with her anyway. - "However the fact that you seduced him , forcing him to  believe into something that never happened, is enough to hurt me." - finally she decides to push herself forward, bringing her face closer to yours. - "Even if you did it for my sake." 

Philip is a long lost case. You wouldn't dare to return to him even if Miranda really allowed him to warm her bed before you could do it. Yet he doesn't deserve to be blaming himself over something that is far away from the truth. 

"Never again then, darling, I promise." - you'll never get tired of licking the sweet lipgloss off her lips as they continuously claim yours. You push her shoulders back before she can force her tongue into your mouth. Her teeth immediately land on the edge of your jaw. Well that's a new place to bite. - "Is it that selfish?" - she asks, although you pay more attention to the hand that tries its best to slip beneath your shirt. - "my hope for us to work out even before yesterday, or even before that..." 

Perhaps around the time you broke up with your boyfriend. Miranda was there , silently watching you as you went to a breakdown, and that was still enough to calm you down. 

"The kids, Mira." - you breath out, reminding her of her daughters. 

"The kids, right." - she places one last kiss on your cheek before returning back to her seat and starting the car, taking the road up to the castle. 

*****  No matter how hard you try , how much you turn and toss in your bed - you find it impossible to drift into sweet sleep. At first you were feeling too hot - kicking the blanket off your body at the end of the bed was a solution that worked only for a while. After a few minutes the mansion decided to show you exactly how cold it can get, so you were forced to cover yourself yet again. 

But it's not only those heatwaves that come and go that bother you. Your bed is not even close to being as soft as Miranda's. The pillows are too thin , the sheets don't smell like her. You hate it. After spending all day and night with her it's hard to go to sleep without having her snuggle into your embrace. You feel rather lonely. 

And that same loneliness is the fuel that guides your legs down the corridor, closer and closer to the blonde woman's bedroom. 

Miranda is a light sleeper. She opens her eyes at the first knock delivered on the surface of her wooden door. Even though she hates to be awaken in the middle of the night, which happens way too often recently, she smiles knowing it's you on the other side. A side of her hopes you've come to propose something more intriguing than her sleep, devoid of dreams. 

"The hour is quite late, darling, don't you think?" - she asks, teasingly, rubbing her still fluffy, sleepy eyes. You swallow, taking in the view in front of you. Miranda always manages to look devine - even with the messy golden nest she call hair around her head , and the short, dark nightgown she's currently wearing. 

"I can't sleep." - your tongue travels along your chapped lips as you lean on the doorframe, enjoying the way Miranda's eyes also scan your body closely. 

"And you think wandering into my bedroom will fix your problem?" - although she speaks with a voice, drowned in mockery, she still steps aside, opening her door wide, an invite you gladly accept. - "Do come in,  though" 

"I just kind of...missed you?" - what an excuse, your whole day was spent with her. She chuckles. 

"I do tend to have such effect on women, darling." 

Her hands are gentle, but demanding when they wrap around your waist, her lips waste no time in connecting with the skin of your neck. You expect her to place you literally everywhere - pin you to the wall, throw you on the bed or simply take you on the floor, but no - out of all places you end up sitting nicely in front of her vanity. 

"Miranda..." - you turn your head to look at her, a second later her fingers come to hold your chin, forcing you to face yourself in the mirror. 

"Stay still." - a simple command you fail to follow as your body is itching to touch hers. You have no idea why she's making you so needy. 

"Mira..." - you hear the clang of metal hitting into metal echoing close to your ears, and then you feel the cold material around your neck. And Miranda's thin fingers that works fast to tie it nicely so it can stay there. 

"I said something." - she tugs on the necklace, the large pendulum positions itself right in the middle of your collarbone. The silver metal matches nicely with your skin, the jewelry shiny and rich looking. It suits you perfectly, as if it's made for you personally. - "Do you like it, little deer?" 

"It's beautiful." - your digits lift up in order to run along the length of the necklace. 

"It's yours." - Miranda whispers near the shell of your ear before placing a tender kiss there. She then takes a seat on top of her vanity, bending her back so she's still hoovering over you. Her palms caress your face, your hair, your neck...and she looks at you with such pretty, rich coloured, dreamy eyes. It's hard not to get lost into them. 

"I suck at relationships, darling." - she sighs. - "I often cross the line between giving too much and giving too little. I'm not certain how to...maintain my feelings." 

"I know, Mira." - her character is definitely hard to handle. A big part of you, however, knows exactly how to match with her attitude. - "I don't want to force you into a relationship, just because we slept together." - you pause to gather your thoughts. - "I know it was a moment of passion for both of us." 

"There was no passion." - she sounds more than certain, a sharp finger is traveling at the edge of your jawline. - "I was thrilled by something else. I feel you closer on a whole different level." 

"You're attracted to sympathy, Miranda?" - you grin, kissing the fingertips which wander curiously across your lips. You then grab her wrist, placing a trace of kisses there as well. - "Is that what you're trying to say?" 

"My emotions are something I struggle a lot with." - she explains, observing closely while your lips continue to travel up her arm. At some point you stand up so you can reach her neck. - "They run deep and...they are too great for a single person to handle." 

"Then let me have half of them." - you suggest, teeth nipping at that sensitive point where her neck connects with her shoulder. - "That simple, Mira." 

Instead of kissing you, this time the woman practically drags you into her embrace, burying her head in the crook of your neck. She adore physical intimacy, especially one that is not born from passion, just shared admiration. She breaths in your scent , trying to remember it well. 

"I do hope you can see me in a different light." - she whispers. - "I do hope you can realise I'm not completely evil, darling." 

One kiss on your forehead is enough to cut any questions from forming inside your head. The last thing you see before the world caves is , surrounding you with pure darkness, is Miranda's tender eyes looking down at you, filled with pity and sadness. 

***** 

"I can't be a father." - the man with a blurred face says , his voice roughly and hardly recognisable. His body keeps on changing with each movement he makes - hinting that the memory of his exact height and weight is lost. The only certain things that shines in him are the golden , curly locks of hair occupying his head. 

"You're acting as if the happening is my complete fault." - the woman that answers him is very easy to acknowledge, to remember and recognise. Despite the different colour of her hair , Miranda's face is the same, the two deep wells she calls eyes still have that wild flame of a single candle in the wind, stitched into them. 

"You find yourself in luck, woman - do thank the God for your immaculate beauty, because without it you're nothing." - the man is not careful with his word, in fact each one of them aims to hit the brunette woman directly into her vulnerable heart. - "Do you even know what the villagers are whispering about you and your...witchcraft." 

A witch, a whore, a monster. She has heard it all. 

"Witchcraft?" - Miranda exclaims. - "It's medicine! I help people, i do not make potions." 

"Help yourself then." - a few steps are taken closer to her by the man , making her feel uneasy. - "Use your precious medicine to get rid of the baby inside your belly." 

"You want me to kill the only single blessing in my life?" - the pain in her voice can be not only heard, but felt. It mixes with the quiet tone of fear. 

"It is a curse!" - the man grabs her shoulders, looking down at her body. - "You - all of you is a curse sent by the Devil himself to torture me." 

"A curse, you say?" - Miranda laughs, trying her best to break free from his grip. - "Yet you call me a goddess everytime I'm in your bed." 

"You were , for a while." - he lifts a finger in attempt to stop her squirming. She's afraid of his rough hand landing on her, now that she has more than just her body to protect. - "That was, of course, until you got yourself pregnant." 

"With your child!" - she defends herself, grabbing his larger hand in between her palms. She hesitates to bring it down to her abdomen, however.- "Our child. It's going to be our child." 

"We're not married, Miranda." - she knows it's bad when he speaks her name out loud. The woman swallows hard, her legs begin to tremble. - "The church will not accept a bastard child. Nor will my father, given his position as a priest." 

"Then marry me. Make me your wife." - she hisses when his grip tightness, she knows his rough hands are going to leave red marks, which she'll have to hide again. - "Do that instead of taking me every night like a coward. And then blaming me for the consequences." 

The slap that lands on her cheek is deserved. At least that's what the man believes in. Miranda stays silent. 

"You don't realise it, but unlike you - I have a decent future ahead of me." - she lets out a groan of pain when he grabs her by the collar of her dress, forcing her legs to depart from the floor. She hates men's roughness. - "You're not going to ruin it, woman." - she finds it difficult to breathe, the man is unbothered. - "Get rid of it" - he says, not even considering his child as a human being. - "Before I do." 

The first time Miranda's God betrayed her was when she found herself at the bottom of a high staircase. Pain pulsating in the lower part of her leg. She knows her ankle is broken, the scar of it stayed even after her immortally was gifted to her, as the wound happened to appear years before that. She doesn't care about her leg, or the awful pain, her arms are wrapped around her stomach as she begs for her unborn child to be in a fine condition. Not perfect, she just needs fine. 

The faceless man observes her closely at the top of the staircase, looking down at her as if she's an ant. His hands transform into fists, his blood boiling. Miranda refused to follow his desires and he tends to be a man of his word. He didn't expected, however, for the attempt to fail. Doesn't matter for him, there's always going go be another time for a new try. He leaves in silence, ignoring her cries. 

The second time Miranda felt like her god hated her was when the faceless man was taking her yet again. In the dark hour of the night, her body pressed to the uncomfortable mattress, her legs on his shoulders. He has always been rough, but the pain she's currently experiencing is greater than any other. Yet Miranda can't say a word - after all she has a roof over her head, she's being fed , she has a ring around her finger and a beautiful, healthy daughter sleeping in the other room. 

She can take her husband's irritation all night if she needs to, shall it means her life can stay as peaceful as it currently is. It's funny how her world can flip upside down with just one sentence. She begged him , all morning, not to take Eva outside, as the flu is easily transferred. Yet he refused. 

"She got sick." - her husband whispers, right before finishing, not bothering to pull out of her. After that she ran to her daughter's room. And she didn't come out until the girl died in her hands. 

The third time God mocks her is her last straw. Her daughter, the innocent child lays dead in her coffin, her face covered in a black towel, not allowing the people gathered around to see the horrors that the flu has done to her skin. 

Miranda went insane. Ten years, in which she faked being a happy wife , while having to live with a man that was constantly thinking of ending hers and her daughter's lives. Ten years, in which she had to visit church daily,  to repents of her sins, meanwhile her husband was seen as a victim and a hero for deciding to marry an unholy woman like they portraited her to be. Miranda didn't even get the chance to name her child, that was the name the church gave her. Ten years...are too short for a child to live. 

She had her fun watching the old structure burn , along with her awful excuse of a husband and his half-dead father. Let them call her a witch, a murderer, a devil. She doesn't care. Tonight she kills her God. Tonight she kills herself - because without the only blessing in her life she's nothing. 

.

.

.

The world spins, time changes , day becomes night. 

Miranda doesn't look like herself when she steps into the full of people club. Her height, her body, her voice, her face , her hair , everything is different. She's you. And she's here on a mission. Philip is easy to spot, she forces a smile upon moving closer to him. A hand on his shoulder forces him to freeze. 

"Darling?" - he asks confused. - "What are you doing here?" 

"I miss you." - lies come easily to her and while he's influenced of alcohol the man doesn't complain. Especially when his girlfriend, who's supposed to be far away and very mad at him casually shows up out of nowhere. 

Miranda takes him to a hotel, where she orders him to undress and get into the bed. She tells him she'll be right back. She stays in the bathroom long enough for him to fall asleep. Exactly what she needs. She pulls a chair and sits next to the bed. All she has left is to wait. 

In the morning, when she senses Philip is about to wake up - Miranda stands up to remove the dress she's wearing. Her hair shines back in golden colour the second she runs her fingers through it. After a few twists in her body - it shapes back into her usual self. She positions herself right next to the man in the bed. Watching his reaction upon seeing a completely different woman from his girlfriend laying next to him is awfully funny her. Philip will blame everything on the alcohol. 

"Who are you?" - he questions in panic. 

"Doesn't matter." - Miranda voices out , grabbing his chin, anything but gentle, and forces him to look at her.

"But-" 

"Listen here, insolent boy." - he stops talking almost immediately. Good. Miranda smiles, adding fake sympathy to her voice. - "I'll leave in a few minutes, I want you to call your girlfriend after that and tell her what you've done." 

It's on the tip of his tongue to ask exactly what he's done, but his eyes hint him the answer way too well. He's naked with another woman in a messy, hotel bed. It's easy to put the pieces together. 

"Tell her what a fucking fool you are." - she takes joy in how his face twists in fear. - "Apologies for treating her bad , say you don't deserve her." - she pats his head. - "Because you don't, you truly don't. No matter how hard you try - you won't find such a treasure like her ever again." 

"How do you... how do you even know about her?" 

"Oh, darling boy , don't worry your head." - she bares his teeth at him. - "she's not your responsibility anymore." 

*****  All of your mixed, weird dreams evaporate from your head almost immediately after you wake up with a gasp, sweat covering your forehead, in the middle of the night. Your head hurts more and more with every attempt to try and remember different parts of all the scenarios lurking in your mind. 

Only one image is clear - Miranda. You find comfort in hugging the real her, who's peacefully sleeping next to you. Your headache fades the second your skin presses to hers. 

She's both a curse and a blessing, a goddess and a devil... she's all you care about for the rest of the night. 

I’ve been loving your series in the eyes of god (by loving I mean losing my absolute mind over it) and I was wondering if you could do a domestic fluffy one shot of Miranda x reader. If not that’s totally cool. I just thought I’d ask ☺️

thank you so much for feeding the Mother Miranda loving community theres not nearly enough content 😭 and your stuff is top tier

omgomgomg I'm so glad you like it so much!!! (this is my first request ever and I'm so excited!) I'm not the best with fluff (especially with MM), but I gave it my best.

Mother Miranda x reader (oneshot)

Word Count: 820 (we love a short queen).

This woman.

This woman who has murdered probably thousands.

This woman who stockholmed an entire village.

This woman who quite literally became God

"My doooove..."

You sigh.

This unbelievable woman.

Taking a deep breath, you emotionally brace yourself before pushing the bedroom door open and laying eyes on her once again.

It takes all your might to not roll your eyes with how she looks at you. If someone else were to walk in, they wouldn't even recognize her like this.

Swaddled and wrapped up in so many blankets that she looks 1/3 her size.

Big, round, blue eyes rimmed red, staring up at you with the saddest puppy dog eyes you've ever seen.

Nose tinted pink from blowing and wiping it.

The only tell would be the monstrous mess of half-full water cups, dirty mugs, and tissues strewn about that she won't let you clean, adding to your theory that she is most certainly a diagnosable hoarder.

It's pathetic, really.

"Yes, Pretty Bird?"

She sniffles, wrinkling her nose.

God dammit.

It's the cutest thing you've ever seen.

"Bring me a coffee."

"No."

She pouts and you nearly melt. She's so cute when she's angry but can't do anything about it.

You place a hand on your hip and your voice is firm. "I can make you that tea Donna sent. No coffee."

Her eyes slant as she stares at you, looking like a 6 year old who's been told it's her bedtime.

"What's in it?"

You furrow your brows as you try to remember what concoction Donna relayed to you. "It's... turmeric, ginger, lemongrass... peppercorn, and... licorice root."

Her nose wrinkles again at the last ingredient, and you're quick to chime in again. "It's very good for immunity. You're drinking it."

Ah. There's that famous eye roll of hers. You should really start taunting her about her eyes getting stuck like that if she keeps doing it as much as she does.

"I will not drink it simply because you think you can order me around, Little Crow."

Now it's your turn to roll your eyes.

"How about we just start with me making it?"

She narrows her eyes at you, but doesn't protest, so you spin on your heel to head to the kitchen before she can change her mind.

When you come back, steaming mug of amber liquid, brewed exactly to Donna's specific instructions, and instead of setting it down on the bedside table where she could choose to drink it or not -not that there is room to even set it there- you place the handle directly into her hand.

"Drink."

An amused expression crosses her face, and it looks for a moment like she might laugh at the idea of you bossing her around. You purse your lips and hold firm, staring intensely into her eyes as you press the mug a little closer.

"Drink."

Her eyes narrow at you as the two of you stand off, and you nearly back down at the look she is daggering you with...

...but

She reaches out a single hand to grasp the handle and you smile victoriously as she brings it to her lips and takes a small sip, slanted eyes burning holes into you the entire time.

"Thank you." Your face is smug, but it fades as a small cough rattles in Miranda's chest, replaced by an empathetic frown. "Drink and then go back to sleep, okay, Pretty Bird?"

You turn to leave once again, giving her peace to rest when her small voice floats through the air.

"Cuddle me?"

You freeze in your tracks, eyes wide, hand hovering over the handle of the door. There's no way you heard her correctly.

Spinning slowly on your heel to face her, you're met with the biggest, roundest, saddest eyes you've ever seen in your life.

"I'm cold." She laments dramatically and you think there's absolutely no way she's cold, buried under 5 layers of thick blankets.

But there's no way you can deny that face.

You cross to the other side of the bed and her face holds immeasurable glee as she unrolls her blankets to allow you into her odd little blanket-burrito.

"Christ, you're literally cold!" You yelp as you make contact with her skin, feeling how chilled and clammy it is. She wastes no time yanking you into her with her unmatched strength and wraps around you like a koala bear, sighing into your skin.

"You're warm." She sighs, nuzzling her cool, sticky face into your neck and despite how gross that is, you feel warmed on the inside by the affection and you wrap your arms around her to bring her into the heat of your body.

Tilting your head down, you press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Ew, oh, you're so sweaty." You mutter, but the hum she lets out, the way she squeezes you tighter, you don't mind.

Not really.

Daily reminder that Mother Miranda was supposed to be carried ON A THRONE. I consider myself robbed.

LIKE AJQHWVWIWIWBSBAB

worship

cmm for zeleneagle <33

Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 7: Anagapesis

Summary:

Welcome to Miranda's hate men club!

The movie on the TV is distracting, but not enough to steal the attention of Eveline from the black camera in her hands. Even the rapidly changing pictures with different characters do not catch her eye. 

There was a time when she loved to sit in front of the TV for hours and watch the different channels. At first, she only watched children's animations - the events that could not happen in real life seemed to be terribly interesting for her, consuming her free time with ease. 

Over time, her interest shifted to films with real actors. The horror genre was her favorite, mainly because she could easily predict what was going to happen. Miranda had to stop her from watching too movies containing blood and murder after that, they intrigued her. But her attention did not stay long on them either. 

Eveline has always loved animals. Therefore, she was very happy when she found the channels describing the wild life of the different species. When the wild animals' instincts to kill were awakened, however, and she was there to watch, Eveline decided she would never go near those canals again. 

She tried watching cooking, baking, and cake-making shows with her mom and sister, but those things were way too boring for her. And just like that, her interest in the world of television was washed away almost as quickly as it had come. 

With no access to internet, which Miranda has described as too dangerous of a place, the little girl's days are dull and boring. Even the boredom ,from all the books with which she tried to cheer herself up ,had become a close friend already. The mansion feels like a prison for her young soul. 

Still, she preferred this prison rather than her previous one.

Eveline's fingers lightly brush over the screen of the camera in her hands, then they press the button to turn it on. The frames on the TV change at the same time as it lights up. 

The black-haired girl remembers this camera very well. She's had it since her early childhood, which she never managed to live the way she wanted. For her, it is not just an object, but a casket of memories that she deeply cherishes. 

The first photo reminds her of the memory that the camera is not entirely hers. Stolen from the hands of the first person who directed the lens to her, the first person Eveline saw and remembered as a superior personage demanding obedience.

The photo is simple - Miranda's long fingers spread above Evelyn, trying to get the camera back. The quality is not good, and the image itself is blurred, suggesting that the photo was taken very hastily and by inexperienced, small hands.

The following photos are so similar that if it weren't for the dates, one would think they were taken one after the other. White walls, white laboratory coats, medical gloves, white masks, the same faces covered by them. Eveline as a child. Eveline together with the well known scientists. Eveline with Miranda. Miranda. Miranda and Mia. 

The girl skips through all the photos with the brunette, unable to look at her face, to bear her kind look and concerned eyes. The former feeling of love for the woman is now replaced by indifference.

A small smile appears on her face, seeing one of her favorite people in the next few photos. When Miranda came back into her life, Eveline was horrified, not because of the scary woman in front of her, but because of the little girl next to her. She knew that Miranda did and would always prefer her daughter rather than the failed experiment that Eveline was.

She hated Eva at first, she despised her. Slowly realizing that the intentions of the mini-copy of Miranda, however, were not to totally alienate her from her creator, but on the contrary, to accept a single failure in their lives, with love, not disgust, made her absolutely adore the little girl , which she now proudly called her own sister.

The following photos are Evelyn's cheerful memories - those with her new family. Even locked in the lonely mansion - they are happy , together. 

The last photo in the little girl's old camera is of you. Without your knowledge and permission, of course, the shot only represents your back. Your face is not present, but Eveline knows very well who exactly is in the picture and what it represents. The black-haired girl is guessing her boredom will only fully die when her family is complete again. 

Only if her mother isn't so keen on the past. Even Eveline herself has given up on it. 

Someone angrily sits down on the couch next to her, almost on top of her outstretched legs, and huffs, picking up a remote and quickly flicking through a few channels.

"You're rather grumpy today,Eva" - the camera is carefully turned off and placed on the table in front of them as the girl speaks to her sister- "what's the matter? Your pets flew away?" 

"Butterflies, not pets"- Eva deeply cares about them and doesn't like it when Eveline throws jokes about them left and right like that- "and it's not them , they listen to me. I'm mad because..." 

Her last sentence is murmured, and instead of finishing it , she turns her head to a side to observe her sister's facial expressions as a question falls from her lips. 

"What is your opinion about our new babysitter?" - when Eva wants a serious conversation, she starts to sound nearly exactly like her mother. 

"Well she's definitely someone much different than the others" - she says that as both a good and a bad thing - "but i like her...she is , she is nice." 

"Even after she insulted you so casually?" - a blonde eyebrow lifts in suspicious manner. 

"She didn't mean that" - at least she hopes so - "I'm sure she was just...why are you even asking me about this?" 

Eva crosses her arms in front of her chest and purses her lips. Her head slowly lifts and shifts from side to side to be sure noone will hear her as she speaks. 

"I don't like her" - she declares - "in fact, i cannot wait for her to leave already!"

"Why?" - Eveline forces a smile as she too, looks around the room , thought she's not scared of someone hearing her talking bad about you, instead she's ready to defend you - "i know you're not keen on other people lurking in our home but at least give her a chance, she's trying." 

"Trying a bit too hard" - the girl scoffs, her tone a bit more louder than before - "Have you not seen her intentions towards mom?" 

"Intentions?" - Eveline is no stranger to the many other babysitter's tries to befriend or some even seduce Miranda into giving them her money, thought she's sure this isn't your case. 

"The other day i saw them baking together, baking!" - she repeats as if it's something unbelievable - "you know how much mom hates to have another person in the kitchen while she's there. Not to mention she was all over her" 

Eva shapes the story in her own liking, ignoring the fact that it was Miranda hoovering over you and not the opposite. Eveline listens carefully. 

"Or should i bring up the fact that she's already spending more time in mom's office than mom herself!" - the flame in Eva's eyes is no other but one born by anger - "even slamming and locking the door shut as if she owns the place , ridiculous!" 

Eveline shifts in her place as she continues to listen to the many encounters Eva has became a witness to between you and Miranda. 

"Eva, you really shouldn't spy on them like that" - the girl is older , she can quickly put the pieces together and take a wild guess in what kind of proximity has grown between you and her mother. 

"And if she hurts mom?" - she throws her hands in the air , trying to get back to the point - "i shall be there to help her" 

"Mother is literally the last person she would hurt" - in reality you are not even able to even try and injure Miranda in some way - "i think you're just a bit worried mother will focus her attention on someone else" 

Eveline wanted to say jealous instead of worried but she knows Eva will get even madder. And she's not in the mood to annoy her sister. 

"Mom's kind love is often mistaken for weakness" - Eva's voice changes , a hint of sadness, of pity, in it as she looks down at the camera left on the table - "both of us know that" 

Yes , Mia is a dark spot in both Eveline's and Miranda's memories while Eva doesn't even want to remember her long lost father or the years when her mother was still weak as the sick child Eva once was. 

Silence grows between the two girls. They look around the room, trying to avoid each other's gaze. Both lost in thoughts about you and your staying in the mansion. 

"You lost a bet" - Eva whispers, a grin twisting her lips upwards, as she shatters the lack of sound around the room. 

"I did?" - the other girl points at herself, confused. 

"You said you won't talk to her for at least a week" - it's clear for Eveline who her sister is referring to -"after she called you a freak" 

"Crazy!" - Eveline snaps , making Eva flinch - "not a freak." - she breaths in and out, with flaring nostrils - "And i don't remember making any bets with you, Eva" 

"I'm sorry..." - sometimes the blonde girl doesn't realise the weight of her words , she didn't aim to hurt her sister's feeling. In her effort to cheer her up , she managed to bring her mood even lower. 

Maybe it's the effect of being isolated from other people. Eva is not sure how to communicate outside her comfort circle - which is Eveline and mostly her mother. 

"It's nothing" - lies , Eveline can't stand that word - "freak" , however both girls bonded by sisterhood don't possess the power to be mad at eachother for long. She grabs Eva's shoulder with a glowing smile - "what do you want me to do for you?" 

"You have candy?" - Eva adored sweets, it was the first thing Miranda gave her as a food after she came back to life. From there on she demanded candy almost everyday. 

"Not at all"- Eveline shakes her head. 

Eva hums, lost in deep thinking processes of what exactly she demands. Her expression changes into a cheerful one as an idea illuminate in her head. 

"You'll let me pierce your ears!" - she exclaims. 

"Absolutely not" - her sister is quick to refuse - "no, don't even give me that look" 

"Oh, come onnn" - she grabs her sister's folded arms and tugs on them as she tries to make her look at her - "we've wanted matching earrings for like forever! And mom is always too busy to take you to get your ears pierced." 

Eveline gives a glare at Eva's shining golden earrings , they are simple, with not much of decorating, in order for them to not be heavy. Then her eyes shift to her begging expression and the puppy eyes she likes to make when she's in a need of something. Eveline surrenders. 

"Fine" - she stands up to get her camera , Eva immediately following after her - "just promise me you know what you're doing" 

"Of course i do! Let's go!" - and just like that she drags her sister out of the living room up the stairs to the bathroom where she can prepare the needed stuff. 

In reality, Eva has no idea what she's doing. 

*****

Miranda does not exist. 

Everyone has a bit of information about themselves posted on the internet, wanted or unwanted. Everyone but Miranda. Not a single photo, site, link, social media profile or anything at all matches with her name. Absolutely nothing.

Miranda does not exist. Nor do her children in that regard as you can't find any information for them as well. You're desperate, in urgent need to find something to use against that vile woman. 

You're not only desperate but hopeless as Miranda has everything about her covored, even after trying a few other browsers the results remain the same. It's like the woman has disappeared from this earth. Or she never lived on it in the first place. 

In some final attempts to turn the tables and make a winning move in Miranda's game , you decide to search the name of the woman she has been chatting with. Her mysterious affair, Mia Winters. 

Lucky for you a few things pop up. Firstly you go through her social media, she's not a open woman as she rarely posts. But you do note pictures taken with her friend or husband. Deciding this doesn't interest you enough, you go through the other shared information about her. 

Around 4 years ago she had found herself in a terrible accident along with a family of four in Louisiana. The mystery of their death is yet to be discovered. The article says she managed to run away together with her husband, who came to rescue her. Rumour has it the family was actually a group of criminals, kidnappers and murderers. 

All kind of theories , as the main reason for the death is announced as - "poisoning caused by hydrogen sulfide gas erupting in the ground". Nobody is believing that. 

Someone... had obviously covered up the murders.

Your head begins to hurt from all the comments and theories about the incident. People who were clearly not involved in the whole thing discussing it like it was thier job. Sick. 

The case , however, is long closed. And by what you know - Mia is healthy and happy, though you can't decide if you like her , judging by her chats with Miranda that you saw. You don't want to take sides , especially the blonde woman's one, but you can't see Mia in a good light - not after acknowledging she has a husband. And she still runs after Miranda like a lost puppy. 

The effect she has on women must be insane, you don't even want to think about it. Especially in a situation like yours. 

The laptop in front of you closes and you unfold your legs from your sitting position on the bed. You head to your closet so you can get changed for the day. 

After changing from your pajamas, you quickly exist your room and run downstairs for another day with this weird family. 

.

.

.

There is not a single painting in Miranda's mansion that expresses something different than a beautiful portrait or a full body drawing of a woman. Her neglection of men is on another level, it's almost funny. 

Since the rooms were empty as you stepped down, possibly too early for the kids or Miranda herself to be up, you decided to just walk around and pay needed attention to smaller details in the decoration. 

The mansion's interior is absolutely fabulous. And those paintings are more than alluring. They stay perfectly on the walls , illuminating the atmosphere. You go through every single one of them , carefully reading the names and authors on the small metal boards under them. It feels like an art museum. 

One specific painting catches your eye. The woman in it sits on a throne, way too big for her body, as she stands surrounded by men , covored in black and red clothing. The painting is dark , as the only light in it falls from the windows and the angle that is showed plays a role of an obstacle for the observer , covering the woman's face in pure darkness. In one hand she holds a bloody sword, in the other a half broken crown. Her hair is the most interesting thing in the whole painting- white as divine snow and fluffy clouds. A lifeless body lies unmoving at the base of her legs , towered by her creepy shadow. 

'The forgotten heir' - is the name of the painting, its author is a french man from centuries ago, his full name lost in time,as only his first name is attached to the metal board under the painting. 

"Devine, isn't she?" - you flinch upon hearing Miranda's voice somewhere behind you. She's still a bit too intimidating for you, but you don't get as surprised as before when she sneaks up around you, hoping to easily scare you. 

"Beautiful, indeed" - you agree with her , while allowing her to get closer , her gaze , however stays fixed on the drawn woman - "as well as your other paintings" 

"Thank you, i do choose nicely when buying" - her visible preference for women in all of those paintings is hard to miss - "each one of them has an individual,fascinating story." 

"And this one?" - you point at the faceless woman on the throne. Miranda smiles. 

"My favourite" - funny enough it's the one you liked the most too.

"Her story, i mean" - Miranda's lips drop down, as well as her good mood - "what's the forgotten heir's story?" 

She steps forward with her head slightly bowed, her hair falling from her neck to her back like an autumnal waterfall of leaves as her silky touch of fingers trails ghostly across the canvas of the painting.

"Back in the days It wasn't uncommon for kings to have affairs and along with them many, many bastards" - her voice starts to sound like a lullaby, more melancholic than ever - "when it came to queens having those problems, however, the case was different" 

You observe closely, the slow movements of her fingers along the broken crown, the excitement in her eyes as she watches the painting from beneath her eyelashes. She looks more fond of the painting than any other furniture in this mansion. 

"She was unlucky" - Miranda's chin slightly lifts up to point at the mysterious woman - "to be born a woman , from her mother's sinful acts on top of that. An unwanted child receives no love. An unloved heir receives no crown." 

"But she has one..." - you whisper, your finger lifting to point at the woman's right hand. Confusion overfills you - if she desired the crown, then why break it? 

"Left for dead on the streets, still as a weak child , she had only one goal in her life. Revenge." - Miranda ignores your questions, continuing her story with little to no care if you are listening or not - "dead people don't talk , and she died the moment they threw her out of the royal castle- her mother killed her, getting rid of her mistake. That's the most fascinating thing about her - she took what was originally hers without murmuring a word." 

"How?" - the blonde woman somehow managed to completely pull your interest in her story, locking it between her soft words. 

"Some say she joined a cult" - Miranda laughs, and you do as well, though not completely getting her point - "in reality she convinced a group of criminals to follow and serve her. The reason was simple - she saw them not as people but as monsters, just like everybody else, but she accepted them for what they were. And the most important - among them monsters she was the biggest one." 

The strongest, the most cruel, the most blood thirsty. Miranda is almost describing death herself with those adjectives. It's clear she feels a strong connection to this woman , a connection you cannot understand. 

"Forgotten heir , silent death, lady of blood" - she counts all of the woman's nicknames on her fingers - "her names long lost in history, along with her story. Pity , she managed to kill her mother , father and siblings at the age of 18 , gaining back her throne." 

"She was real?" - you don't notice when you run short of breath, and your question comes out rushed and hitched. 

"Of course she was" - Miranda stares at you with a grimace, as if it was a crime to ask such a foolish question - "she's a big inspiration for me" 

"You clearly like her a lot" - the painting itself is the biggest one in the mansion, the frame is yellow golden with refined, precise elements. A clear favourite - "but why?" 

"She was... everything i couldn't be." - Miranda takes her time to form her sentence the way she wants it , you've noticed long ago she likes to do that before speaking, so her words can come out perfectly lined with eachother - "when i found myself in a similar situation. That was long ago, of course." 

"Like what?" - you laugh - "you were in a cult?" 

A sharp glare makes you cough and straighten your back. She really can't take a joke. Point taken,Miranda. 

"Not a cult" - her tone is surprisingly not that harsh - "more of a religion..." 

Miranda's eyebrows furrow and her last words die silently the moment your phone rings. The awful sound rudely interrupting the moment between you. You quickly pull out your phone, surprised to see Philip's name on the screen. 

You give Miranda a begging look and she sighs in annoyance, waving her hand in the air, and with that you get your permission to pick up. 

"Hellooo, darling!" - he exclaims, then he quickly jumps into a question, not giving you time to react to his unusual cheerful mood - "are you free this weekend? Because i am , and I'm considering taking you out , how's that?" 

Unfortunately for you, the decision is not yours to make. One shake of Miranda's head reveals to you that you won't be going. She's busy which automatically means you are as well. 

"I can't..." - you begin to excuse yourself - "i have work, and you know I-"

"Oh come on! That old woman can't keep you on a leash forever" - good point, you hate to disappoint him again. But in desperate times , you need to make some choices that might not be always pleasing. 

"I'm sorry, maybe next time?" 

You hear a scoff, and for some reason you search up Miranda's eyes for support. She steps in closer , making sure you know she's there for you. 

"It's always next time" - his voice slowly fills with poisonous anger - "and when it's that going to fucking happen?" 

"No need to curse" - now that he's being louder, you're sure Miranda can easily overhear your conversation. And her messing in your are failing relationship is the last thing you want. 

"I'm so sick of you" - his words strike your heart like metal blades. 

"Philip-" 

"You get mad when we're not spending time together but when i propose to do something together you always refuse!" - his screaming is now uncontrollable - "well I'm sick of it!" 

"Just calm down" - you're not fond of his fast aggression trait, at all , he's always doing or staying stuff he doesn't mean and then he's sorry for them. In the past he at least apologised. - "please, just-"

"You know what?" - he scoffs again - "fuck this, i know how to have fun on my own" 

The line cuts off just before you can talk back to him. You grip the phone harshly in your hand while biting your lips in anger. Perhaps you would let the tears gathering in your eyes and the burning feeling in your throat roam free in your offended state if Miranda wasn't right next to you.  

You know she already doesn't like you, you don't want to let her see you on your lowest. 

"Are you alright?" - the last thing you imagine her doing is asking you this. Caring about you. 

"It's nothing" - your lies burn your tongue - "my boyfriend is just-"

"Ungrateful?" - she suggests. 

"That , he is" - you confirm. 

"But that's not the thing that's making you this..." - her eyes quickly scan your body, from top to bottom - "vulnerable..." 

"It's not" - you agree , as if enchanted by her words - "I'm just scared he'll easily replace me" 

"Why not replace him first?" - a tempting suggestion, but not for you. 

"If i do , if i decide to break up with him" - you pause, gathering your thoughts and connecting them into the right sentence - "all those years I've spent with him will seem pointless" 

"But if he does it then it's alright.." - Miranda murmurs , there's something in her voice that you can't name , something personal.- "tell me , darling, is he cheating on you?" 

She thinks that's the reason you can't let go? Is that really the reason? Is yours even valid at this point? 

"No" - you quickly say , however unsurenes changes your answer in the flash of an eye - "i mean - I'm not sure. He's always so distant with me, like he doesn't really care but i know...i hope he does." 

"And if you could get your answer" - she moves closer to you - "would you do it?" 

"To know if he's cheating?" - Miranda nods in response - "it's not possible to-"

"Hypothetically" - she cuts you off - "would you, darling?" 

Your answer is honest. 

"Yes. Absolutely yes." 

"Good" - she's pleased. 

A cry cuts through the thin , cold air of the mansion with ease, ending any shared words between the two of you. A cry devoid of pain but eager for help. 

It's practically almost impossible to react as quick as Miranda did. To turn on her heel immediately after hearing her daughter calling for her. Like an instinct. 

Only a few seconds later Eveline comes running into the room , followed by very clearly worried Eva. They are both panting as they stop thier hurried steps in front of Miranda. 

The girls both stare at you, Eva grimaces but her eyes shift at the same time with Eveline's towards Miranda. You're not needed in their situation. 

"Evie , what's wrong?" - her soft voice manages to convince the black haired girl to move her hands away from the sides of her face , allowing Miranda's palms to grab her cheeks - "what's that? Are you hurt? Show me."

She's careful, yet her something in her eyes shatters upon seeing her daughter's bleeding ears. A needle is still attached to one of them. 

"What have you done?" - she sounds concerned, anger has no place in the current situation. She gently removes the needle from her wounded flesh and kisses her forehead. Then she looks towards her other daughter - "Eva?" 

"How did you-" - she flinches , her shoulders roll back and she clenches her jaw, bristling like a cat - "in my defence , she-" 

"I'm not mad , just -" - she shallows , her words lost in her throat, at a moment like this Miranda is forced to choose a side between her daughters , she hates to lecture them - "how could you do that?" 

"She lost a bet , she said it was alright" - Eva has the coping mechanism to blame others for her mistakes, though she quickly realises thas - "she- , we just wanted matching earrings, that is all" 

"You could have just asked me" - Miranda's gentle hands stroke Eveline's hair , in an attempt to bring her comfort. 

"We did and you said-"

"Eva." - the woman has never used such a serious tone with her younger daughter. It makes both you and her flinch in suprise. 

"I'm sorry" - Miranda tilts her head towards Eveline, hinting that the apology should be for her , Eva follows her lead with a shy voice - "I'm sorry, Eveline" 

It doesn't take long for them to make up, especially with Miranda clear promise to take Eveline to get her ears pierced. Miranda's attention in talking to you, however, slowly gets lost around the mansion as you walk back to your room.

.

.

.

Later that day Miranda comes to you with an unusual request. The zipper of her dress is down and she needs an extra pair of hands to pull it up. You find it difficult to understand for why exactly she decided to come to you, though no complains slip from your lips as you do , in fact, help her. 

"Where are you going tonight?" - you ask in curiosity, grabbing a hold of her perfectly styled hair and carefully placing it aside. 

"Work" - again, her formal clothing is a little bit too much for work. You sigh. 

"Just work?" 

"Curious, are we?" - your fingers tingle in desire to touch her bare skin. Her back is weird. You can't decide if the black , curved lines on her skin are tattoos, or just a condition she can't handle. It fits her, on its own unusual way. 

You find yourself allured by it , by her , by your desire to explore with touch , with fingertips. 

Black suits her. Her dress is long, almost touching the floor, the bottom slightly flared, but hugging every curve her body snugly. The fabric looks soft , it shines in the light, and the pattern is intricate. The neckline of the dress is low, showing off her collar bones and a bit of cleavage. You can't miss Miranda's multiple earrings and necklaces, perfectly complimenting the look. 

She looks more than gorgeous and you're too sacred to admit that. 

You slowly drag the zipper up , she stands even taller with her heels. Not something you mind but it definitely makes it harder for you to fully pull the zipper up to her nape. 

"Thank you" - she whispers, then she processes to explain how she'll be late and how the dinner is already prepared in the kitchen. Her usual mom stuff. 

"Have a nice evening, Miranda" - you wonder if certain Mia is going to accompany her. But you reject that idea, it's not your right to think about this. 

Miranda doesn't come back home for the whole night. You know that because for some reason - you waited for her. 

***** 

Your phone rings again, for the third time in the past hour. Philip's name written on the screen. It's surprising how his pride broke just a few days after your last conversation.

You decide to pick up, but your gaze doesn't leave Miranda, who is currently listening to Eva talking about something that deeply intrigues her curious soul. 

They are in the same room right across from you, but far enough away in the other corner so that you can't really hear their conversation. 

"What do you want?" - you asks with a sharp voice, phone glued to your ear. 

"Can you talk?" - your boyfriend nervously, but surprisingly politely , questions you - "is this a good time?" 

"Does it matter?" - you snap at him - "speak." 

"Look um..." - he hesitates , you can clearly hear his nervous footsteps in the background, guessing he's taking laps around the room - "can we meet up and talk? It's important." 

"I've told you already - I'm busy" 

"I don't want to discuss this over the phone, darling please-" - he sounds really desperate, but your little talk with Miranda boosted your confidence a little, or maybe a little bit too much. 

"You lost your privilege of wanting and deciding already" - you can almost see his face from the other side of the phone, sense his shock. You know Miranda is smiling at you, as that burning feeling of being watched makes your heart pump harder - "and don't call me that" 

'Darling' is another privilege he lost during your last conversation together. 

"Fine" - he surrenders - "don't you dare complain about me not warning tho-"

"I don't have all day , Philip" - in reality, you aren't even busy at the moment. 

"Last night i went to have a drink with the boys" - he unsurely begins to explain, a hint of fear in his voice, of regret - "and i might have had a few too many glasses but there was this woman-" 

"Did you cheat on me?" - you strike the question straight up like a fast moving bullet.

"I was drunk!" - he defends himself - "but gods, this woman - she , she looked exactly like you i-" 

"I can't believe you've done that" - you grab your forehead, lowering your head along with the volume of your voice - "again, Philip, fucking again" 

"You're not listening to me" - he sounds absolutely pathetic, begging for you to let him explain - "she was like , like your twin. At least during last night, in the morning...that was a complete different woman , darling" 

"And why are you telling me this?" - you snap at him - "haven't i suffered enough because of you?" 

"Because she knew about you.I never mentioned you to her , but she- , god..." - your boyfriend's next works are maybe the only thing he has said to far that sounds so certain - "she told me I'm a fool for cheating on you, she told me i don't... deserve you, at all." 

"You don't" - there goes everything, all those years or friendship and later on romance. You can't even bare the sound of his voice anymore - "you truly don't" 

"I'm sorry" - an apology without change is manipulation. Philip is wrong. He's not sick of you, you are sick of him. 

You despise the poison he's constantly pumping in your veins. Not anymore. 

"We're over , Philip" - you hang up immediately, leaving him no time to react, let alone say something in his defence. 

You might look unbothered, but you are almost certain you can feel your heart shattering. It's a bit too much , the pain and regret. The unsureness and sadness building up in your eyes.

As you run out of the room , Miranda can't help the cunning smile urging to awaken on her face, still pretending to pay attention to her daughter. Her gaze follows you until you completely disappear from her sight. 

Not for long , she hopes. 

-

Anagapesis- No longer feeling any affection for someone you once loved.

JWUWGWIQWBWJQOQJBSOQ (I'm so normal about her 😇)

Mother Miranda in a suit with tattoos. More like daddy Miranda amirite.