The Love of Lady Dimitrescu X Female Reader || One-Shots

The Cry

You rested your hands on your bloated belly. Your pants felt too tight as you struggled to sit up; your stomach acid continued to back up into your esophagus. "I feel sick."

"Hm, I wonder why?" Alcina remarked, crossing her legs. She wore her dark nightgown while listening intently to a TV show about uncovering the secrets of history. "It couldn't have possibly been the two baskets of biscuits you ate before your main course? Now hush, I don't want to miss this. They're discussing their latest theories about the disappearances surrounding the Bermuda Triangle."

You were about to make a wisecrack until you heard a bang from the other side of the wall, followed by a woman's laughter. "A new guest has arrived."

"A late comer, likely had a long drive like us," Alcina remarked offhandedly. "When you get up, would you please turn up the volume a little more?"

"Sure, but just to let you know, the remote is to your left. Move your hand up and you'll have it."

Finding it like you had directed, she took a guess where the volume buttons were located. "Great, I muted it."

Swinging your legs off the bed, you got up to turn it up manually. "Sorry, I should've done it." Another loud sound thumped against the wall. "Man, it sounds like this lady's throwing her luggage all around her room or something."

Her eyes sparkled with interest. "A globetrotter, perhaps. Who knows? She could be heading to the Bermuda Triangle."

"Yeah, maybe so. I'm going to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Can you give me ten?"

"I'm all finished."

"What? How? When? I didn't even see you go into the bathroom."

"I don't know what to tell you, darling. You're the one with the eyesight."

"You didn't just pop a mint into your mouth and consider that a substitute for brushing your teeth, did you?"

Alcina grabbed a pillow and hurled it at where your voice was coming from. "Go wash up, young lady!"

You threw it back at her, hitting her in the head and messing up her hair. "You missed me!"

With an eye-roll, she shifted more comfortably on top of the bed, fluffing the slumped pillow. "Such a child."

From inside, you ran the sink-water, felt its temperature, and turned your head toward the wall. Someone was whimpering. You turned off the faucet, straining to hear whatever it was you were hearing. The feeble sounds grew louder. Freaking out, you moved a little closer. It ceased.

"Alcina?" You stepped out with your toothbrush in hand and glanced at your wife, who was still engrossed in the documentary.

"Yes?"

"Are you crying?"

She scratched her cheek casually. "Crying? No, I don't find this show to be particularly sad. It's about the disappearance of Flight 19 in 1945 and how it—"

"No, I'm being serious. Were you just making whimpering sounds now? Did you hear anything?"

"I haven't? Just what's on TV. Are you hearing things?"

You headed back in. "I thought I did...never mind."

Squeezing your tube of toothpaste onto your brush, you sat on the toilet lid, twisting and scrubbing it along the length of your teeth.

"Help me."

Rising from your seated position abruptly, you gagged and almost swallowed your toothpaste as you spit it out into the sink. That voice scared the hell out of you, it did not belong to your wife. In a panic, you rushed out, shutting the door behind you and diving onto the bed. "Alcina! I heard someone!" Placing your hand over your lips, you lowered your volume. "That lady or whoever just arrived spoke to me."