ahh!! I loved the Donna fic sm! May I request another one? any theme I don’t mind at all honestly, I find it so hard to find any new Donna stuff on here 😭🤞🏼 you don’t have to do ASAP it’s just so I could put my idea of Donna forward!! (If that makes any sense) 🏹
Hi there darling! Thank you so much for your patience on this🫶🏻 I appricate those sweet words! I hope you like this one😉
The one with the sick girlfriend
Fluff: Established Relationship-Donna Beneviento | Feminine Reader
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To say you followed your lover around like a lost puppy was a severe understatement.
To say that you could sit still was simply a lie.
Donna didn’t mind… well, she did at first; it just took her a while to grow accustomed. She was the calmest, most patient person you’d ever met, but what kind of partner would you be if you didn’t test her patience every day?
You and Donna had been dating for nearly a year, and by now, she had fallen into a new routine:
Retuck the blankets around you
Get as much done as possible before you wake up
She used her time efficiently; she’d make eggs and toast, leaving them on the table for you to eat. Then, she’d tidy any part of the house that might have gone unattended, and finally, she’d disappear into the basement’s workshop to begin her crafts.
It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy having you around; she loved every second of your presence. Donna herself was incredibly clingy, so she’d never get upset with you for it. Instead, it was the fact that you were constantly bouncing from one place to another. Where Donna was silent, you were chaotically loud. Where she saw precious, unique dolls, you saw action figures.
To be fair, Donna wasn’t used to how much stimulation mortals really needed. She had only been familiar with her own mutated self for longer than she could remember. But, on the other hand, she also wasn’t fully sold that all humans were that way. She was more convinced that it was just who you were.
She tried her best to accommodate your needs; she even, very reluctantly, allowed you to wander outside, so long as you never went past the old, wobbly bridge. Although your adventures would tire you out, there were plenty of days when you were hellbent on being attached to her side. And apparently, you awoke deciding today was one of those days.
Donna was lost in thought as she carefully sketched an outline on a slab of wood. She didn’t wear her veil today, which still felt strange to her, but she enjoyed how many times you would kiss her when it was off.
Her black hair was tied in its classic, messy bun, a few strands escaping to line her face. Her tongue was stuck out in concentration, and her black dress had a few top buttons undone, exposing some of her skin.
The elevator rang across the far hallway, the pencil in between her fingers momentarily stopping as Donna glanced up towards the clock on the wall:
She pursed her lips; that was earlier than you usually get up. That either meant you’d be very sleepy or overly ecstatic to share your night’s dreams with her. Or, in a case she really hoped wasn't true, you weren't feeling well. Regardless of the reason, when she heard your footsteps approaching, Donna didn’t even try to hide the smile that curved her lips.
Her ears twitched as she listened. Your steps weren’t rushed; if anything, they were a little uneven. That indicated that you were, in fact, still tired. Donna’s eyes fell on the door as it opened, and she let out a huff of laughter at your revealed appearance. Your hair was messy, your only article of clothing was her oversized shirt, your eyes were nearly closed, and your lips hung in a grumpy pout. Donna set down her pencil and straightened her posture as you waddled towards her.
“Good morning.” She whispered.
You responded in a foreign noise, much to her growing amusement. Oh, you were exhausted.
Donna outstretched her arms, to which you practically fell against her. Her chest was warm against your cheek, the steady beat of her heart nearly lulled you back to bed. She smelled lovely - books and forest and the lingering scent of her coffee.
“What’s gotten you out of bed at this hour?” She kissed the top of your head, nuzzling her nose into your hair as she breathed in its scent; the expensive sandalwood and mango shampoo that she bought from the duke specifically for you.
You grumbled, tightening your hold around her waist, “Cold bed. Bad dream.”
Donna sympathetically frowned. She had her own experiences with bad dreams – horrible ones that gnawed at her during the day. She rubbed your back in a quiet sooth, cooing as she spoke,
“Would you like to share with me?”
You shook your head, and with that, Donna didn’t push. She had a different idea; it was far too early for you to be awake. If you planned to stay up, no doubt you'd get grumpy by 9 AM.
So, Donna repositioned both of you; her mutation gave her inhuman strength, which she used to effortlessly pick you up. She sat you sideways on her lap, a routine spot for you at this point, and continued her work on the slab, now chipping away the wood.
The scrapes from her tool were a comforting lullaby. You wondered what doll she was making this time. Was it based on someone, or just a random spark of imagination? What would the name be? Maybe if you asked politely enough, she’d let you name it. Your mind drifted through these thoughts at a lazy pace, no longer allowing room for the coldness of your previous nightmare to linger. Though Donna was soft-spoken, she was keen on humming old songs from her childhood, ones that brought back better memories.
The faint sound of her voice was like an addictive drug.
For an hour, you slept in her arms, readjusting your face into the crook of her neck enough times to make Donna wear a consistent smile. She always adored how easily you could make her happy, how effortless it was for you to remind her what a peace of mind felt like.
As she finished sanding the rougher edges of her outline, you started to stir with small wiggles.
“Good morning.” She hummed without stopping her work, her fingers now clasped around a paintbrush as she prepared to darken the wood with a thin, brown coat.
You huffed; obviously, you hadn’t fully slept away your morning attitude. Donna arched her brow, her head bowing to view your puffy face. She didn't want you in a bad mood, but at the same time, she couldn’t fight how much entertainment she got from it. You were never mean – simply pouty and sassy. A combination she had come to find humorous.
“So grumpy.” She murmured beneath her breath, watching as your fogged-over eyes squinted up at her. So much character in such little movement.
Donna put her tools down, deciding a break was needed, though for your sake more than hers.
With one arm under your head, her opposite hand came up to cup the side of your face, embracing you in a cradle. Donna knew how to work you – how to diffuse your fight. She started to sway her upper body, effectively rocking you like a mere infant.
You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding in your throat.
“Stop it.” You argued, attempting your very hardest to sound threatening, but your voice wavered with lingering exhaustion.
Donna didn’t reply, didn't stop her movements, just simply held you. Her goal was to lull you back to sleep. Easy enough, surely.
Then, as if cursed, your body shook with a dreadful cough.
Her lips pursed in thought – a few days ago, you stayed outside in the garden despite heavy winds, despite her telling you not to go out. With a narrowed, suspicious look, she theorized that you must've caught a small cold, which meant she was in for a fussy girlfriend for the week.
As the day carried on, Donna's hypothesis was proven more and more right. Her doll-in-progress didn't make it through the full clothing stage before you were whining about being too hot, but then too cold, and then too hot once more. No matter how she held you, what she hummed, or what sweet words she used, every half hour was a new complaint. She gave up on any work around noon.
She ran you a bath; lukewarm water with herbs and homemade oils that were sure to knock you full on your ass. Whether she learned these recipes from Mother Miranda or simply because she was Italian, you really couldn't tell. All you knew is they worked – just at a cost of your energy. Her hands gently washed you with a rag, as she insisted you not move a single inch. You felt her occasionally stiffen, her consciousness slipping into one of the many dolls in the kitchen where she made them prepare you a soup.
“Can’t I go back outside for a little bit?” You mumbled, clearly distressed at the idea of staying inside, “The weather is nice!”
Donna hummed, her nails lightly scratching at the nape of your neck as she massaged shampoo into your scalp. “There’ll be other nice days. You’re already sick as is.”
A small army of her porcelain dolls interrupted your disagreement, their feet clattering against the wooden tiles until they reached the bathroom. Donna opened the door, allowing the four dolls – who were all carrying their own weight of the soup bowl – to enter. Donna took the bowl with ease; to her, it was small and lightweight, before dismissing them with a wave of the hand.
“You heal faster when you sleep, anyway.” She insisted as she sat on the edge of the tub, feeding you a warm mix of vegetables and herbs that was definitely hiding some foreign medicine in it.
You hummed, eyes closed, water blanketing your entire body.
“But I've already slept all day.” You furrowed your brows, though Donna moved the bowl to one hand, using the other to lightly tap at your forehead in a silent scold.
Your eyes snapped open with defiance, your lips parting to state a retort.
Donna slid her hand down to your chin, cupping the bottom of it and using her thumb to rub your lower lip.
“No. Arguments. You need to rest.”
As to be assumed, Donna won that battle. Despite your efforts to fight, once you had finished your soup, you were drifting off in the bath. She dried you with a silk towel and dressed you in a loose gown, one of the many that she had costumed made for you to wear, before carrying you to bed.
Once you were placed under the sheets, thoroughly tucked in, she cracked the bedroom window to allow some of the fresh air to seep in. Donna didn't have a great understanding of allergies yet; it had been many decades, near a century, since she had the common flu or even a sneeze, but she figured that since it wasn't cold or windy outside, the air would be good for you to breathe.
She questioned going back to work as you slept, but her anxieties quickly shut that internal debate down. What if something happened when she was downstairs, too far away from you to know? You were the only person she dared be close to, and Donna simply couldn't handle the idea of something bad happening to you. The fact that she was so calm now, when you were sick, surprised even her. It only took so many visits from Alcina for her to realize you weren't as fragile as she had assumed.
Donna lay beside you, reading a new book on human emotions. The Duke had brought it to her as a gift, which was rare, considering the man never gave something for free, but he stated it would “help you understand your little human more”.
She was skeptical at first, but perhaps it did carry some information that would be useful later on. Who was she to turn down a good book, anyway?
You, however, were as still as a rock. Which would be concerning if Donna's heightened hearing wasn't consistently measuring your heartbeat. It was still at a normal pace, and you were still snoring like a chainsaw – mouth open, arms resting above your head, hair haphazardly spread across the pillow – safe to say, you were good. In all other scenarios, she would've suffocated you with a pillow for all this loud breathing. But right now, she took it as a sign that you were alive.
Donna eventually got up, keeping herself busy by mindlessly dusting the shelves and dressers. It was good to see you resting, but she was awfully bored without one of your stories to listen to,
The sun lowered with each passing hour. You woke up once, but only to move to sleep on her pillow instead of your own.
By the evening, the perfect hour when the sky was painted her favorite combination of orange and gold and pink, Donna was silently praying you’d stay asleep for the rest of the night. You’d slept well over half the day away, and if your body decided to wake up even for a few minutes, there was absolutely no way you would go back to bed. She could only give you so many “sleepy” herbs before an overdose.
As a matter of course, her wish did not come true.
She was freshly showered – black hair dripping down her back, wetting her nightshirt in the process. Lights in the house were off, dolls settled down in their own spots for the night, the only noise being the faint echo of the waterfall behind the house. Donna could feel her own sleep quickly taking over her body, her muscles weary and craving the softness of her mattress, the warmth of you cradled against her.
As she sat on the bed, you stirred awake as if sensing her relaxation.
“Morning.” You rasped, knuckles rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.
Donna audibly sighed beside you. Her head had just met the pillow.
Your brows furrowed, “but I’m awake.” A confused pout formed your lips, “And hungry.”
“Your body is lying.” She rolled over on her side to face you, her eye closing in a desperate attempt to sleep.
“Are you gaslighting me?” You gawked. You honestly wouldn’t put that past Donna.
Her hand reached out to grasp your waist, effortlessly scooting you closer into her hold. She lazily kissed the side of your head, burrowing her face into your neck.
You wiggled in her hold, but to no avail. Donna was much stronger than you. You noticed how dark the room was, slowly piecing together that you had slept the day away. But, to be fair, it was technically her fault. You told her not to give you those sleeping herbs.
“Donna, I’m going to make food.” You argued, to which she threw a leg over your lower body, further preventing you from moving.
“What do you want to eat?” She drawled, her accent growing thicker.
“I don’t know, like a sandwich or something.” Albeit your brief confusion of why she would ask that if she was so stubbornly keeping you from leaving, you focused your energy on trying to successfully squirm your way into freedom.
Donna went eerily still above you, her body subconsciously pulling you closer, making your efforts more and more useless.
A few minutes of struggle later, the bedroom door creaked open, your head snapping up to the sound. It was pitch dark; you couldn’t see anything. Were you simply imagining it?
Slowly, two dolls and their white skin crept into your vision, both sharing the weight of a plate carrying a sandwich.
You rolled your eyes while simultaneously laughing beneath your breath. Donna had such an odd way of affection.
“Can I at least get myself a drink with that?”
A third doll wandered in with a glass of water. You stared in disbelief. Two steps ahead, you should have guessed that, really. It was rare that you ever outsmarted her and her military force.
Donna rolled to her other side, releasing you from her weight so that you could eat.
“Thank you.” You took the food and water from the dolls, watching as they scurried into the shadows and out of the room.
“And thank you.” You leaned over to kiss Donna’s cheek, earning a grunt in response.
“Get crumbs in the bed, and I’m locking you in the basement.”
You scoffed. She wasn’t even watching you. She was falling asleep while forming her own sentences. How would she know? “I won’t, promise.”
You sighed as the door creaked open again, the trio of dolls returning to supervise you. The bed dipped with their collected weight. They sat huddled together at the end of your feet. Watching like hawks, totally creepy.
“Damn right you won’t.” Donna mumbled, voice muffled by the pillows.
