#bless you and thank you so much for telling me this!

[theostrophywife]

brother's bsf! mattheo who you've had a crush on for years.

but he's only ever seen you as theo's little sister (or so he says).

it doesn't matter that you and theo are only a year apart. your older brother is extremely protective of you and so are the rest of his friends — especially mattheo.

you grew up around the boys, which was a blessing and a curse in and of itself. on one hand, you grew super close to mattheo, but on the other hand, he's seen you through your awkward braces and pigtails phase.

lately though, brother's bsf! mattheo starts to notice you. really notice you.

suddenly, you didn't seem so little to him anymore.

but over the years, your infatuation with your brother's best friend calmed to attraction instead. you've come to accept that while mattheo would always be your first crush, that's all it would really ever amount to. a harmless little childhood crush.

thanks to theo, you hadn't gotten much of a chance to date when you were younger, but now that you were starting uni with the rest of the boys, you were determined to push those silly little feelings for mattheo away and start putting yourself out there.

granted, you had a lot to learn given your sheltered upbringing.

boys had taken a liking to you. why wouldn't they? you're pretty, you're smart, and you're the perfect combination of sweet and sassy, but you were also extremely naïve.

brother's bsf! mattheo had to protect you.

it was his responsibility.

theo trusted him to keep an eye on you. so he did.

・❥・ brother's bsf! mattheo glares at any boy that dares to look at you.

・❥・ brother's bsf! mattheo revs his motorcycle and comes in hot when he sees anyone talking to you, handing you the pink helmet he keeps on him at all times without a single word.

・❥・ brother's bsf! mattheo gives you rides to your dorm and takes you out for ice cream after a particularly hard exam.

it's clear that mattheo has a soft spot for you. no matter how vehemently he denies it.

until the night that everything changed.

it was a chilly friday evening when you happily skipped out of your dorm building, eager to attend your first frat party.

the cute boy in your history class asked you to come with him and you immediately said yes despite not knowing what to expect. it seemed fun and exciting and a little bit dangerous.

as luck would have it, you ran into none other than mattheo on your way out. his sleek black motorcycle was parked on the curb, smoke wafting from his lips as he took a lazy drag of his cigarette. leaning against his bike, mattheo raised a brow as you strutted onto the sidewalk.

"where do you think you're going, nott?"

"to a party, matty."

"with who?"

"a friend."

mattheo narrows his eyes at you. "I know all your friends and they're busy tonight. so which friend is it?"

you sigh in frustration. "just a friend from class. god, you sound like theo right now."

"you're not going anywhere wearing that."

"what's wrong with my dress?"

you smoothed down the front of your red minidress self-consciously, shying away from mattheo's intense gaze. his chocolate brown eyes scanned your body, the heat of his stare dragging along your skin.

"for starters, that dress barely covers anything and knowing you, you'll be cold within the first few minutes."

"I'll be fine, mattheo. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

mattheo crosses his arms, huffing at your statement. "so you told theo where you're headed off to tonight?"

you shrugged. "what my brother doesn't know won't hurt him."

"yes, but he might hurt anyone stupid enough to ogle you in that dress. as will I. maybe I should tell him what his baby sister is up to. better yet, maybe I should come with you to this party, hm?"

"no please," you pleaded. "I just want one night where I'm not being treated like a little kid. can you give me that, matty? please?"

you flashed your best puppy dog eyes at him, knowing that he couldn't possibly resist when you asked so nicely.

mattheo considers it for a moment before sighing in defeat. "fine, princess. but text me when you get there and call me when you're home. don't even think about turning your location off or else I'll send a brigade after you."

"yes sir."

"good girl."

before brother's bsf! mattheo could think better of it, you kiss his cheek and promise to call him later that night.

brother's bsf! mattheo watches you strut away in your tight little dress with a soft smile on his face, fully knowing that you had him wrapped around your finger.

by the time you arrive at the party, it's in full swing. music is blaring, drinks are flowing, and the frat house is packed to the brim with people.

you send a quick text to mattheo to let him know you've arrived before spotting aiden.

clearly, your date was already a few drinks in. he greets you with a lingering hug before handing you a red cup. "cheers, y/n."

"cheers," you respond, clinking your cup against his and taking a generous swig. the liquor burns your throat and aiden chuckles as you try to hide your wincing.

still, it does the job.

you loosen up after a few sips. aiden introduces you to his friends and you smile politely, trying not to squirm out of his hold as he pulls you in by the waist.

it's fine, he's just keeping you close in such a packed crowd. he doesn't mean any harm by it.

at least that's what you told yourself.

until aiden tries to make a move on you in the middle of the dance floor. you already told him that you didn't want to dance, but he insisted.

you could smell the liquor on his breath as he grabbed your hips, moving them along to the rhythm of the song. you tried to put some distance between you, but aiden didn't seem deterred by it. in fact, his wandering hands slide down to your lower back until they're planted firmly on your ass. you attempted to pry them away, but he slurred "relax" into your ear before giving your ass a squeeze.

that was the tipping point for you.

with all your strength, you shoved aiden off while he cursed after you. the lights were blinding as you made your way through the crowd, fleeing to the bathroom.

you had brother's bsf! mattheo's number dialed before you even closed the door.

surprisingly, he picks up on the first ring.

"hi matty, are you — are you busy right now?"

"I'm with the boys. how'd the party go, princess?"

"um, I'm still here and I just really want to go home."

you hear shuffling on the other end. presumably mattheo finding somewhere more private to speak with you. "I thought your friend was your ride home?"

"well, aiden's drunk and he's been getting a little handsy the whole night so I don't really feel safe going home with him."

"what?" mattheo hisses. "you didn't tell me you were with a guy. I never would've let you go off alone with some random prick."

"please don't be mad, matty. I just wanted to have fun without worring about my brother hovering over my shoulder. don't tell theo, please. I'll — I'll figure it out. I'll find another ride."

"like hell you are! drop your location. the boys and I are coming."

"no, please. I don't want this to be a whole thing. if theo finds out, he'll never let me out of his sight again."

you could feel mattheo grappling with the situation. part of him wanted to tell his best mate, but all he truly cared about was getting to you as quickly as he could. after a few moments, he sighs. "fine, I won't tell your brother, but I'm still coming to get you. stay where you are, princess and don't hang up the phone. I'm on my way, okay?"

"you really don't have to —"

the argument dies in your throat when you hear the sound of mattheo's motorcycle starting up. he wasn't going to let you talk him out of this. mattheo was coming, whether you wanted him to or not.

"too late. be a good girl and stay on the line with me, sweetheart. I'm coming for you."

brother's bsf! mattheo pays no mind to the boys as they joke about him meeting up with a booty call.

the only thing that matters to him is getting to you.

brother's bsf! mattheo weaves through campus, revving and racing his motorcycle as fast as it can possibly go.

it's too noisy to talk while he rides, but he stays on the line anyways, listening through one earphone as you quietly hum to help calm yourself. mattheo smiles to himself. it's one of his favorite quirk of yours. half of the time, you don't even notice you're doing it. but he does. he notices everything about you.

mere minutes have passed since you first called him, but it feels like an eternity to mattheo when he finally pulls up to the decrepit frat house at the edge of campus.

mattheo parks his motorcycle on the curb, glaring at the prying eyes trained on him. it's not every day that the mattheo riddle, resident bad boy pulls up to a party looking like he's absolutely ready to kill someone with his bare hands.

he has half a mind to burst into the bloody house and pummel that stupid prick for daring to touch you, but the sight of you approaching stops him cold.

you look flustered and fearful, lower lip trembling as you spill out into the sidewalk. mattheo instantly sees red. he vows to make that motherfucker pay for this.

"where is he?"

"mattheo —"

"where. the. fuck. is. he?"

"probably somewhere inside drunk off his arse. I don't know and I don't care. can we please just go?"

despite his anger, you don't balk from him. in fact, you've got both hands pressed firmly against his chest to hold him back.

brother's bsf! mattheo grips your hips, your noses pressing together as he carefully inspects you. making sure you were alright is the only thing keeping him from committing violence.

"tell me where he is."

though mattheo's words are tinged with fury, his tone remains soft and sweet. his voice is nothing but a whisper because even at his angriest, mattheo would never raise his voice at you.

“give me a name, sweetheart. just give me his name."

"it's fine, matty. he's not worth the trouble."

“he left you alone, at a party where you don’t know anyone, got too drunk even though he knows he’s your ride home and got handsy with you even though you weren’t into it. give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fuck him up right now?”

“I can handle him later. can we please just go home? I'm tired and I just want to be in bed now.”

the cold air makes you shiver as you mentally curse yourself for picking such a skimpy outfit when hours ago you felt foolishly confident in your dress.

brother's bsf! mattheo softens when he sees you trembling. without a word, he takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. the scent of amber and cinnamon envelopes you all at once, lulling you into a calmer state.

"okay, princess. let me take you home."

once mattheo secures the baby pink helmet over your head, he tells you to hang on tight before taking off.

you hug his midsection, resting your chin on his shoulder as mattheo drives slow through the sprawling campus. the streets are empty, but he drags out the ride, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible.

at the strike of midnight, the two of you finally reach your dorm.

although you insist that you're fine, brother's bsf! mattheo walks you all the way up to your door.

the fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you shift your weight form one foot to the other, suddenly feeling shy.

"thanks for picking me up, matty."

"of course, y/n. you know I'd do anything if you're the one asking."

you smile, trying your hardest to hide the blush on your cheeks. "I hope I didn't ruin your night."

mattheo shrugs. "not at all. before you called, I was watching berkshire stuff marshmallows down his throat while the boys cheered him on. trust me, you weren't interrupting anything important."

"still. I appreciate you coming to my rescue and not ratting me out to my brother."

mattheo smiles. "it's our little secret, princess."

the double meaning of the words causes tension between you and the pull that you've always felt towards mattheo feels stronger than ever, tugging you closer.

maybe tonight is the night that you finally feel brave enough to fall.

"goodnight, matty."

brother's bsf! mattheo watches as you get on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek like you always do. except this time, you lean in for a proper kiss.

as soon as mattheo's lips touch yours, you feel your entire body erupt like fireworks. it's everything you imagined it to be and more. his lips are soft against yours, supple and inviting. the kiss takes him by surprise, but once he realizes what's happening, he groans into your mouth, the sound of it filled with need.

dazed and confused, you look up as mattheo pulls away, his big brown eyes scanning your face. "we shouldn't do this, princess."

despite his words, mattheo's hand rests itself on your hip, his thumb brushing gentle circles against your exposed skin. you gulp as he stares at you, your lips brushing, your bodies gravitating towards each other no matter how hard you try to fight the pull.

"is it because of my brother?"

"no," mattheo growls. "we shouldn't do this because I don't know if I'll be able to stop once we start."

"I don't want you to stop, mattheo."

as soon as the words leave your lips, mattheo is kissing you again, and this time, he isn't holding back. you cling onto his shirt as he kisses you hard, the force of it hitting you all at once. his fingers dig into your hips as you bend at the waist, desperately kissing back.

his head is reeling and his heart is pounding. mattheo is drowning in your taste, your touch, your smell. you're every drug rolled into one; seductive and sinful. he's addicted and he can't get enough.

brother's bsf! mattheo doesn't want to pull away. he wants to stay here and live in this moment forever, but he knows that if he does, he'll end up taking everything.

foreheads pressed together, mattheo leans in for one last kiss. this one is sweet and gentle, enough to satiate him for the moment.

"sleep tight, princess. I'll see you in the morning."

"see you in the morning, matty."

brother's bsf! mattheo can't help but take one last look at you, a soft smile on his face when he sees your flushed cheeks and kiss bitten lips.

in that moment, he knows he's fucked. you're his best mate's little sister. he shouldn't have kissed you. he shouldn't feel this way for you. he should've stopped before it was too late, but you were both way past that now.

now that he's had you, he won't want anything else. it's you he'll always crave. it's you he'll always long for. and he doesn't give a fuck what it takes to get you.

brother's bsf! mattheo won't stop until you're his and his alone. *✧･ﾟ:*

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Can you write about a reader who is the most beautiful girl in the village? Donna literally worships her, she has many pictures of her in her house,she is overprotective, literally treats her like a goddess. Every time Donna sees reader she loves to touch her, tell her how much she loves her and how beautiful she is.Reader is also very shy and doesn't talk much, even more than Donna. Can it be smut G!P Donna with reader being super shy and embarrassed? Reader needs aftercare soo much :))

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

Your cursed beauty

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 7,672

Summary: She's the only one who really loves you...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

“So, with the rune in his hand, he made an effort not to use that power again, because the fate of the region was much more important than his selfish desires...” you read out loud as you wrote.

The always reassuring silence of the mansion, the subtle lighting of the place, that peace, that tranquility were your best companions when it came to writing one of your stories. It was a shame that someone had other plans for you.

“Hey! Silly, silly!” a shrill voice pulled you out of the sheet of paper, blurring the image of your characters in your mind. At least you were used to it. “Hey, do you hear me? Hello? Silly?”

“Angie...” you sighed in a low voice, shaking your head as the puppet climbed onto the old desk, taking a not-so-subtle look at the already written sheets. “W-Wait…”

Your whispers weren't going to stop the doll's curious eagerness.

“Keep reading, keep reading, keep reading,” the puppet insisted, pointing at the paper.

“I can't read what isn't written,” you murmured, taking that new page out of the machine, pretending that this intrusion hadn't made you nervous.

“Well, write then,” Angie said, with her hands on her hips.

“I can't if you're here,” you said with a shy tone, afraid that one of your words would offend the doll. It wouldn't be the first time. “Besides, I'm done for today.”

Sometimes you thought Angie only did those things to make you nervous. What nonsense, of course she did it to make you nervous.

“I hope you've accepted my suggestions,” she said in a petulant voice.

You looked at her briefly, shaking your head. Despite your shyness, despite the comfort you felt in not having to speak, you knew it was impossible.

“I can’t put spaceships in it, it’s a fantasy novel,” you said in a soft voice, not looking at the puppet as you did so, an old trick to lose the fear of communicating.

“Bullshit,” Angie protested, in a brusque tone, one that even startled you. “Spaceships are cool.”

“Angie, lasciala stare,” a tender voice appeared to protect you.

Your lips broke into a smile, your cheeks flushed at those melodic words. The sound of the heels matched the beat of your heart and your eyes moved from the desk to contemplate her approaching figure.

Since you were very young, you were blessed with the gift of beauty.

Being beautiful was the dream of many girls, they strived to achieve it. They prayed to achieve it.

You never had to do it, you were born beautiful, according to too many people, you were the most beautiful girl in the village.

It was a proud title, in which you yourself didn’t believe. You never cared. You never looked at yourself the mirror and smiled. You never contemplated that beauty everyone said you had.

The only thing you were proud of was your gift for writing.

Creating a world, characters, play with them, make them live a thousand adventures was truly your passion. Since you were 10 years old you had started with short stories, with tales that you read to your parents. That was a gift for you, not looking in the mirror and knowing that you were beautiful.

Unfortunately, those kinds of talents were not noticed in that village. The Black Gods, Mother Miranda, the Lords... They transformed that place into a gray pit of bitterness, of conformism.

Like those knights in the books, with small brains and big lances, the villagers didn’t see in you an artist, not even a friend, all they could see was your face, your beauty.

A beauty desired by others, an extraordinary gift that was a blessing for those silly girls who dreamed of their prince charming. For you it was not like that, for you that beauty was a curse, an unjust sentence.

You felt the eyes, the glances on you, you heard whispers. You lived with uncomfortable smiles.

Far from considering you a strange girl, your friends seemed to be interested in your talent. That was a good thing, or so you thought. Every day you had several people willing to listen to your stories, to hear a voice that wasn’t yet afraid to come out of your lips.

In your ignorance you believed that those invitations were simply a desire to hear your stories, since it was the favorite excuse of those boys and girls.

You soon discovered you were wrong. You only had to ask, ask what part they liked the most, what they thought of the fate of a character, to realize that they never listened to you, that your stories didn't matter to them.

Nobody cared about your writing, nobody cared about your stories. They only wanted to be close to you to try to make that fairy tale princess fall in love with a brainless knight.

That same attitude, the repetition of that behavior over and over again led you little by little to despair, to not feeling comfortable talking, relating to people.

One day you were beautiful and outgoing, the next one you were beautiful, yes, but shy and lacking in words.

Shyness arrived over time, as a side effect of that curse your beauty was.

“Oh, come on, don't be like that, let me invite you to dinner at least,” he protested, while you walked away, telling yourself that it was over, that no one who didn't want to listen to you would deserve to hear your voice.

“I really want to know the end,” a hoarse voice startled you, getting in your way.

It wasn't a dream, nor a nightmare. One of the village Lords, the youngest, the strangest, Donna Beneviento, appeared in front of you, with her hands in an elegant pose.

It seemed unlikely, even impossible.

But your duty was to obey those authorities, and so you did. The lady in black and you sat on a bench. Silence accompanied the mystery hidden by that black veil. There were no words, only gestures that encouraged you to continue that story.

You would never have imagined that she, that sick, disturbed woman, that doll maker would listen to you. She didn't interrupt. She didn't seem to devour you with her gaze. She just wanted to listen to you.

No one, not even your best friends, had made the slightest effort to let you share your talent with them.

Donna Beneviento did, she listened to you again and again, she asked you questions, she seemed curious about your talent, enthralled by your stories, and not by your beauty.

Well, that would be trivializing it a bit, of course she thought you were beautiful, the most beautiful girl in the village, but that was a very secondary detail.

She was the first, the only one who dared to meet you, who seduced you not only by what you were on the outside, but also by what you were on the inside. The dates on that remote bench were frequent. They were dates that weren’t scheduled; they simply existed, always in the same place, always at the same time.

You found refuge in her presence. Attentive, kind, shy like you... That was the youngest of the Lords.

That was the first time, the first time that a compliment, a flattery, was accompanied by praise for your talent.

Her deformed face forced her to isolate herself from the world. Her different body embarrassed her, almost as much as your beauty did to you. You tow ere so different and so alike…

You had no doubt, you loved her, and she loved you.

Without thinking, you threw yourself into that romance, into her lips, into her kisses, into her hugs. Donna was the only one who treated you the way you deserved, the only one who won your heart.

Living in the old mansion was your next step. You couldn't walk without feeling her lips, her caresses, her words of love. Yes, she was also dazzled by your beauty, she adored you as if you were some kind of Goddess, but you knew she was the only woman you allowed to do it.

Your shy attitude was curious to her. Your talent was fascinating to her. But, Donna... She was much more than that to you, Donna was everything to you.

You could no longer live without her kisses, without her voice, without her caresses... Anything that meant not having her by your side was like a hell for you.

“Hi, tesoro...” the lady sighed, bending down to steal a kiss from you, to cheer your spirit with a tender smile.

You smiled again, embarrassed by the softness of her lips, her words. Your cheeks had become accustomed to blushing in her presence, and your body trembled accepting her caresses.

“Donna,” you said with a soft voice, broken by the shame your body felt when hers surrounded it.

“Are you done for today?” she asked softly, looking at the pile of papers on the desk.

You nodded slowly, lowering your gaze as she looked at you again with that smile, one that didn't seem to want to fade from her face.

“I've finished two chapters,” you said in a whispery voice, trying to make the heat in your cheeks dissipate, something complicated due to her constant caresses.

“Mm, you were inspired,” Donna said, amused, putting her hand on your shoulder and sitting on the desk. “Do you want to read them to me?”

“Oh, um, I…” you said nervously, moving your eyes away from hers. “You, you know it’s embarrassing for me.”

Donna laughed, shaking her head, taking the opportunity to run a hand over your face again, to be captivated by your features. Your cheeks accepted that caress, responding with an increasingly dark red tone.

“You know I love listening to you,” she whispered, moving away so as not to overwhelm you. “Your voice is worthy of the Gods.”

You laughed as you shook your head, giving her a soft slap on the leg.

“Hey, don't say those things to me…” you said in a shy tone, focusing your gaze on the papers, and not on her beautiful, truly beautiful smile. “It makes me nervous.”

“Oh, does it make you nervous when I tell you nice things?” she said in a tender voice, biting her lip. “You're perfect, you know?”

“No, no, I'm not,” you murmured, looking for the chapter you had finished. “If I read you… will you stop talking to me like that?”

“Maybe,” she said, with a mischievous smile.

You indicated for her to sit in a nearby chair, while you cleared your throat.

“Mm, let's see…” you whispered, dying of embarrassment as every time you read out loud, even more knowing that the Angie doll had climbed onto her owner's lap, also willing to listen to your story without spaceships.

Little by little, you related those parts of your novel, which Donna, along with a mysteriously silent Angie, listened attentively.

 “What do you think?” you said, sighing in relief when you finished reading.

The lady in black, with her head resting on one hand, blinked, her smile widening.

“Edgar's story is very tragic,” she commented, with a low voice, moved by the fate of one of your characters.

“Yes, well…” you said, nodding and moving the pages, returning again to your usual shyness. “He can have all the money he wants, but he will never get Regina's love…” you commented.

“Never?” Donna asked, curious about your comment.

You shook your head with a smile.

“Not everyone has to have a happy ending, right?” you said amused.

The lady sighed, getting up from the chair and lowering Angie to the floor.

“I had it,” Donna whispered, helping you get up from the chair with an elegant gesture, placing her hands gently on your waist. “Although I didn't deserve it…”

You enjoyed the contact, the soft hand that placed a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Me neither,” you said in a low voice, intimidated by the intensity of her gaze.

“Nonsense, tesoro, you deserve anything you want,” the lady in black whispered, leaning to your ear and kissing your skin slowly, savoring each of the soft movements of her lips on your neck.

“You’re exaggerating,” you said shyly, laughing nervously at the tickling her kisses did to you.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, sighing and caressing your cheek one last time before slowly pulling away, kissing the back of your hand. “I’m going to go make dinner.”

“Oh, do you need…? Do I help you?” you asked, more confidently.

Donna turned slowly, shaking her head.

“No, tesoro, just rest,” she said softly, walking away from you with her graceful step, the rhythmic sound of her heels clicking on the floor.

You stood still on the floor, but before the doll maker reached the elevator, you walked quickly towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention.

“Donna,” you said with a shy smile, slowly turning her around and capturing her lips in an improvised kiss, one you rarely felt capable of giving.

She smiled into your lips, cupping your face in her hands, caressing your lips slowly, softly, while you leaned, smiling. Your cheeks were burning with shyness, but also, with love.

The kiss deepened, and seemed to never end. Your hands settled on her chest and hers ran seductively along your waist.

“Amore mio…” she sighed, letting her lips go free, kissing every part of your face, releasing the chastity of her hands, which tickled your arms, your neck. “Principessa…”

You resisted nervously, unable to control those kisses that were increasingly unbridled.

Laughing again, shy at her whispers, which only knew how to praise you, to adore you as if you were something precious, fragile, tremendously valuable, you put your hands on her chest, stopping the passion that was increasingly ardent, because otherwise, you would be unable to do it.

“Donna,” you whispered between kisses, gently moving away, causing a tender growl from the lady, who finally agreed to stop kissing you. “I'm… I'm a bit hungry.”

“Oh, certo…” she murmured, kissing you quickly and running her thumb down your cheek while laughing nervously. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” you whispered shyly, with a sincere, sweet smile, a smile like you've never had, one in love, truly in love. “I love your kisses…”

“I love you…” the lady whispered, giving you one last kiss before pulling away again.

“Hey, that's enough! Stop, basta, parad!” Angie shrieked, pushing the lady by her legs. “How disgusting…”

“Angie…” Donna sighed, shaking her head.

“Is the blood reaching your head? I doubt it…” the doll mocked, making the lady blush with a serious look.

“Angie, don't be rude,” the doll maker protested, turning around. “I'll see you right away, amore mio…”

“O-Okay,” you said shyly again, laughing at Angie's impudence. “I'm going to take a bath, I need it.”

“Mmmm,” the lady in black protested, turning on her heels and biting her lip. “(Y/N)… You know I love to do it with you.”

You shrugged in amusement, looking at the floor so your embarrassment wasn't so obvious. The characters in your novel weren't afraid of such things but you... Despite having shared everything with Donna, you were still extremely shy when it came to taking off your clothes next to her.

Your life was perfect, really perfect.

“And this... It's for you...” Donna said as she served dinner, handing you a perfect rose, like every night.

“Oh...” you murmured, smelling the intoxicating scent of the flower. “Donna...”

“Mm?”

“It wasn’t necessary” you said with your voice low, soft and shy as usual. She smiled at you, gesturing with the bottle of wine. “Oh, don't pour too much wine, otherwise, my head will hurt.”

The lady laughed, obeying your request and leaving the bottle on the table, waiting, as always, for you to eat first.

“Do you like it?” she asked, unsure, observing your gestures.

“Very much, darling,” you said kindly, earning another radiant smile from the brunette, who, finally making sure that you enjoyed her food, began to eat. “Thank you…”

The glances crossed as always, the smiles danced between them from time to time, the shine of your eyes reflected the dim light of the candles.

Every night, every moment was the most romantic of your life. Of course, you could envy many things from the books: talkative, outgoing, daring characters... But if there was something that those romance stories were not able to convey, it was the love that existed between you and Donna. That was just impossible.

“How...?” you said nervously, interrupting that silent dinner, wishing to be the one to start a conversation for once, something difficult due to so many years of voluntary silence. “Ahem, how about your...? Your... Dolls?”

Donna looked up, knowing that you were interrupting because of your internal struggle to stop being the shy girl you always were.

“My dolls… Well, I guess they are as usual,” she commented, drinking some wine. “They're not very talkative.”

“Hey!” Angie protested, entertained on a nearby sofa.

“Well, not all of them,” Donna joked, lowering her gaze again.

You nodded. Yes, Donna wasn't the most extroverted and talkative woman in the world either, but at least she tried, and with better results than you, of course.

“I, I'd like to learn how to sew,” you murmured, hiding your shyness in a glass of water. Donna smiled, arching her eyebrow.

“Sew?” the lady asked, with a tender voice, unable to hide a bit of curiosity.

“Yes, well… You must be sick of fixing my dresses,” you commented amused, finishing your plate, looking at the sleeves of your dress, always masterfully mended by the brunette.

“Don't talk nonsense, tesoro, I love sewing for you, and making you dresses…” she commented, winking at you. “You have a perfect body for it.”

“Oh, well…” you said nervously again, running a hand over the back of your neck and looking away. “But, I would really like to learn.”

“Okay, dolcezza, I'll be happy to do it,” Donna said in a soft voice, with a slight blush on her cheeks. “Tomorrow when I get back from the meeting we could start, what do you think?”

“Oh, tomorrow…” you sighed, blinking nervously. “I don't know if I can, I had thought that, since you have a meeting, I could take a walk around the grounds, you know, to get inspired.”

Donna stopped eating, with a slightly more serious, darker look. You didn't expect any other reaction.

All the virtues of the lady in black were enough to make you fall in love, but, like everyone, she also had flaws. The worst of them was her subtle possessiveness, her jealousy, the fear of losing you, something that always led her to overprotect you, to put a bubble wrap on you so nothing dared to harm you.

The lady wiped herself with a napkin, drinking some wine before looking at you suspiciously, perhaps searching for the words to dissuade you.

“Mm, you can wait for me so we can go together,” she murmured, searching for the lie, the deception in your gaze, something that made you even more nervous.

“Yeah, but... Well, it's just that I don't know when you're going to come back,” you said with a voice that was getting weaker and weaker, playing with your cutlery so as not to look at that darkened eye. “Last time it got dark.”

“You know you can't go out alone, (Y/N),” she said abruptly, crossing your arms. “If I come back late, we'll go another day.”

“But Donna... I...” you insisted with a broken voice, with the seriousness of her gaze stabbing a dagger into your heart.

“Basta, (Y/N). We've talked about it many times,” she hissed, clenching her fists on the table, without changing that sinister expression. “You can't go out, it's dangerous.”

“You worry too much,” you murmured, frowning and shaking your head. “Nothing will happen to me, it's still your territory.”

“I worry enough, tesoro,” she whispered, crossing her arms. “I don't know what I would do without you.”

“I think you're exaggerating, darling,” you said with a fake smile. “I don't think anything will happen to...”

“You can't go out!” the woman in black shouted, with an angry voice, losing control, something that happened less and less frequently.

“Donna...” you whispered, scared by her abruptness.

 It shouldn't surprise you, but your soul was suffering to see the love of your life losing control.

“I'm sorry,” she said nervously, looking at the table and shaking her head. “I just... I can't imagine that... (Y/N) you, you can fall off the cliff, you can trip and hurt yourself, do you understand? How do you think I would feel if something happened to you?”

You nodded, calmer as you saw the light in that darkness again. It seemed to take a lot of effort, but little by little, she began to control her problems, more or less.

“Um, Donna,” Angie interrupted, dispelling the uncomfortable tension that had formed between you. “Can you stop being too Donna?”

“It's none of your business,” the brunette hissed, her breathing still labored.

“Come on, silly Donna, (Y/N) is not a dog. You can't have her stuck in the house all day long,” the doll said, defending you. You raised your eyebrows but didn't intervene. “She's not stupid, nothing will happen to her.”

“Am I talking to you?” the lady asked, with a dangerous tone, getting nervous again.

“Now you are,” the puppet joked, laughing amused.

“Ugh…” Donna protested, shaking her head and getting up from the table, approaching you.

The brunette bent down, taking your hands, kneeling on the floor with a different expression, a sad, pleading one.

“Amore mio, I'm sorry…” she said in a soft voice. “I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

You nodded slowly, letting her hands caress you with soft, but trembling hands.

“I'm sorry, per favore, perdonami…” she sighed again, burying her head in your lap, soaking your dress with a tear of sadness and regret. “You are the most important thing in my life, my girl… My soul…”

“Donna…” you sighed, caressing her black hair, calming her demons little by little, comforting her in your arms. “My love…”

“If I lost you, I would…” she sobbed again, raising her head to look into your eyes.

“Shh,” you whispered softly, caressing her cheek. “You won't lose me, I promise. I promise I'll be careful of cliffs, ditches, and anything that could hurt me. Nothing will happen to me, darling, trust me.”

“O-Okay,” she said, nodding, getting up from while kissing you slowly, repentant for her irrational anger. “You're right, tesoro.”

You smiled tenderly, ending that argument.

It was funny. When Donna was in trouble, your informal nature, your self-confidence came back to lend a hand to you. Sometimes you wondered what your life would be like if you hadn't given up socializing, if that desire to talk for hours, to say everything you thought, had remained.

“You're welcome, silly...” Angie whispered, while Donna and you looked at each other in love, in silence, with the sweet glow of forgiveness on her face.

You looked amused at the doll and back at its owner, who shook her head, pulling you up from the chair so she could hug you affectionately, lovingly, letting a sigh run through your bodies as you buried your head in her black dress.

“I love you so much...” she whispered, swaying with you. “I have a hard time believing that you're really with me, it's like a dream.”

“Don't say that,” you said shyly again, with the blush on your cheeks confirming that the bad moment was over. “You know I blush easily…”

“Mm,” she murmured, stealing one last kiss from you before slowly pulling away, her gaze fixed on yours. “I like seeing you blush… You're beautiful, you know?”

“Donna,” you said looking away and giving her a playful punch on the shoulder. “Stop it…”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed amused, leaving you some room again and turning towards the table. “I'm going to pick this up, you… Well, why don't you prepare a movie?”

“Oh, I… Okay,” you said, with the blush limiting your words, walking towards the elevator until a tug on your dress stopped you.

“Hey, you, aren't you forgetting something?” Angie said, crossing her arms with a cocky tone and pose.

“Um…” you murmured, frowning, confused and looking for Donna's help. Unfortunately, the lady was busy with the dishes. “N-no, I don't know,” you stammered.

“I helped you, I demand compensation,” the doll told you, determined to not let you go.

“What do you want? you asked nervously, playing with your hands.

“Oh, it’s not complicated, just one word: Spaceships,” Angie said, with an amused tone.

Not knowing if she was joking or on the contrary, she was serious, you rolled your eyes, without answering back, hitting the elevator button.

The next day, that afternoon, you were finally able to go out for some fresh air. The meetings of the Lords were always something annoying for you, something that took Donna away from you but… That day, you really needed that walk.

Unfortunately for you, that silent walk through the forest was not entirely useful. Your head tried to get inspired, but you were unable to do so. Maybe what you needed was a break.

“Okay…” you said, closing the door of the mansion, scared when you felt a tug on your dress. “Oh, no!” you squealed, thinking that maybe someone had grabbed it.

Your face turned red from embarrassment, but not like when Donna whispered in your ear, this time it was because of the terrible ridicule you had before your eyes.

 In your clumsiness, with your mind wandering through imaginary landscapes, you had closed the door too soon, thus trapping the fabric of your dress.

“I don't believe I'm that stupid…” you muttered, pulling hard on the fabric, unable to open the door again. “Shit!” you screamed when, with a disgusting sound, the fabric tore, ruining one of your dresses, one of the ones Donna made for you. “See? That’s why I wanted to learn how to sew…” you hissed, lamenting, kicking the floor nervously.

Furious, angry with yourself for your clumsiness, cursing in ways you only used when you were alone, you went down to the bedroom to change clothes, searching in your head for the best way to ask the doll maker to fix your dress again.

“Great, (Y/N), you’re stupid…” you said to yourself, opening the closet and looking for a nice dress, one to give her a surprise you thought she deserved.

Rummaging through the clothes, something fell to the floor. It looked like a small box, like a jewelry box. You picked it up, unable to resist the temptation to open it.

Maybe there were the Beneviento family jewels. Maybe some ruby, sapphire, or precious stones would serve as inspiration for some weapon in your novel.

“What?” you said surprised when you saw its contents. There were no rings, no necklaces.

Inside that small box were photographs, a few photographs in which you were the main protagonist.

“No…” you sighed, watching yourself walking to the market, reading alone in a corner… It was obvious, although you couldn't believe it. Donna had been spying on you.

Long before she met you, before she dared to talk to you that day, she had been following you, stalking you without you realizing it.

The thoughts became confused in your mind. That idealization of the lady in black, that feeling of thinking that it wasn't your beauty that attracted her in the first place, blurred as you looked at those photographs.

You shook your head, feeling your stomach sink, how everything you thought was clouded in a fog of betrayal, of deceit.

“Everyone is the same… You too,” you said nervously, with a dark hiss, squeezing one of the photos in your hand.

You, who believed that she was the only one who loved you for who you were inside, and not on the outside, saw that, in reality, the brightness of your eyes, your face, your figure, was what attracted her attention, you didn't know how long ago.

“Why, Donna? Fuck... I thought you were different...” you lamented, passing a hand over your forehead.

Disappointment attacked your feelings, but the love you felt for the lady in black was resilient, even with that disappointment, your heart didn't change sides, it was still with her and it always would be.

“(Y/N)?” her soft voice interrupted your laments. The sound of her heels was getting closer. Apparently, that day, the meeting ended early.

A smiling Donna entered the bedroom, ignoring the scene in front of her, grabbing your waist, leaning you in a chivalrous manner and kissing you in a somewhat old-fashioned way, something that, in other circumstances, drove you crazy.

“I've missed you, tesoro…” she whispered with a tender voice, approaching your lips.

You, angry, upset by your discovery, turned your head away, pushing Donna roughly.

“(Y/N), what…?” the lady asked with a frown at your rejection. “What's wrong with you?”

“What's this, Donna?” you asked hissing, showing the lady one of the photographs, one in which you were calmly reading.

“Oh, I…” she said shyly, blinking in embarrassment due to your discovery, with the smile slowly fading from her face. “Well, I…”

“How long have you been doing this?” you asked, putting the embarrassment aside, demanding explanations with an irrational fury.

“I...I...” she stammered, desperate, nervous, shaking her head.

“I...I...” you scoffed unpleasantly. “Fuck, Donna, I thought you were different!”

“What? No, I, I just...” she said, unable to look you in the eyes, terribly embarrassed.

“You just what? Were you spying on me?” you asked, getting a little closer in a threatening way, making her back off. “Answer!”

“It's not that, I...” she said, breathing heavily. “You, you don't understand.”

“No, of course I don't understand...” you hissed, looking at the ceiling. “Do you know why I fell in love with you?”

Donna shook her head, her body shaking, totally humiliated.

“Because you weren't like the rest, because I thought you looked beyond my physical appearance,” you explained, pointing at her with your finger, forcing her to lower her head, to accept your reprimand.

“But, but I...” the lady interrupted, narrowing her eye. “Listen to me, I...”

“No, I don't want to listen to you, Donna,” you said, nullifying any attempt of the brunette to defend herself, to explain herself. You didn't remember having gotten that nervous, ever. “Why were you doing this? Why were you spying on me?”

“Because, because I... I, I love you...” she stammered, with a sad look. “I fell in love with you before I met you and...”

“So that's why you were secretly taking pictures of me, right? That's creepy, Donna,” you snapped, showing the photograph. “I can't believe it. You're just like everyone else…”

“No, you're wrong, I'm not like them,” the lady in black defended herself, with a tear running down her cheek, reaching out her arms to grab yours, something you prevented with an unpleasant gesture.

“You've shown me… I'm just a pretty face to you, aren't I?” you said in an ironic tone. “I always was. If you loved me before you met me it means that the only thing you cared about was my appearance, right? Then fuck you!” you shouted furiously, crumpling the photograph in your hands and letting it fall to the floor.

You were completely unhinged. Not even you could understand the reason for your anger, you simply couldn't.

“No…No, no, no, no,” Donna sobbed, throwing herself to the floor and grabbing the photograph, smoothing it again with trembling hands. “That’s my favorite…” you whispered, holding it tightly against her chest.

“They’re right about you, you’re a sick nutcase,” you hissed without thinking, letting out all that irrational rage.

Donna didn’t respond. She just closed her eye shifting on her stomach with your picture on her chest, crying inconsolably.

A spark of sanity came back to your mind, making you put a hand over your mouth, aware of what you had just said, of the damage you had done to poor Donna just because your beauty made you feel self-conscious, just because that was the reason for your hermetic attitude. You didn't want to be a pretty face, not to her.

“Gods...” you sighed, shaking your head and putting a hand on the shoulder of the lady, who was still crying inconsolably. “Gods, Donna, forgive me, I didn't mean that.”

“I just wanted...” she murmured, her voice broken by sobs. “I wanted to see you all the time... I knew, I knew I could never have you so... I took pictures of you secretly but, but it's not what you think... It's not that... It's not that!”

“Don't you understand how bad makes me feel that you noticed me because of my looks?” you asked in a softer, calmer tone.

“Is that really a bad thing?” the lady asked, putting the photograph back in the box.

You remained thoughtful, stepping back.

“N-No, I don't know,” you murmured unsurely, calming your breathing. “The truth is, I…”

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” Donna said, putting the box away in the closet, controlling her sobs. “I don't care if you hate me saying it. I'm not going to stop doing it.”

“Donna…” you sighed, relaxing little by little, regretting your attitude.

“Yes, I fell in love with you, always so quiet, reading anywhere, with that smile…” she whispered, bringing her trembling hand closer to your face. “You are like a Goddess to me, better than a Goddess… But I… I knew that I could never have you, that you would never love someone like me. I limited myself to looking at you from afar, dreaming of your beauty, until that day…”

“What day?” you asked, tilting your head, with a serious face, but with your eyes shining.

“The day you were talking to that boy, when you were telling him a story,” she said, without looking at you, still nervous. “Then I had no choice but to do something. Besides being a beautiful girl, you were smart, you had imagination. I had to meet you, (Y/N). I had to know if your beauty also touched your soul… And it really did.”

“That's… Very, very nice,” you said with an involuntary smile, lifting her chin. “Donna, Gods, I went too far… Forgive me…”

“I’ll always forgive you, (Y/N), you are the love of my life,” she said, placing her hand in yours. “Don't worry about the photos, I… If they disgust you that much… I'll, I'll get rid of them.”

“No, wait, honey,” you said, stopping the lady from bending down again to pick up the box. “Wait, my love… No, it's not necessary…”

“I would never do anything to hurt you, (Y/N), I live to take care of you, to love you…” Donna murmured, caressing your face erratically.

“I know, Donna, I…” you stammered, losing yourself in her gaze, in her sincere words of love. “Donna…” you sobbed, burying yourself in her arms, hugging your lover tightly, calming the delusions of your mind.

Her embrace was warm, comforting as always, strong, safe… In your head you regretted your attitude, that fury, the absurd transformation of your personality due to the interest people had in you, a physical interest, without feelings, a superficial vision of what you were on the outside and not on the inside.

The things the lady in black did, the photographs, didn't matter. Little by little you began to realize that it wasn't important.

What was important to her wasn't your appearance. It was that your beauty was linked to your soul, to your intelligence.

“Honey…” you sighed nervously, caressing her cheek, letting her arms cradle you. She looked back at you, nodding for you to speak. “Forgive me. I'm sure you'd like me to be a little more talkative or outgoing but… It's just that… Everything, everything that's happened to me, my disappointments… I…”

“Shh, don't go on, darling. It doesn't matter… I like the way you are, I love you just the way you are…” she whispered, kissing your lips softly, mixing your salty tears with the dance of a loving kiss, a sincere one, one that ended that horrible moment you both suffered.

Donna pulled away, making an effort to give you a smile, one that made your cheeks shine again with that blushing tone.

“Mm?” the lady in black murmured, when her gaze strayed to the torn sleeve of your dress. “What happened to your dress?”

“It's just that...” you murmured, moving your ankle, embarrassed. “The door caught me.”

“The door,” she said, with an amused expression, studying the damage of the seam. “Don't worry, dolcezza, I'll fix it.”

“You always fix everything, don't you?” you said shyly, looking down, only being able to hear her nervous laugh, a sweet and tender one. “Okay, let... Let me...”

Your feelings sent signals to your head as you moved away from the lady, with your cheeks flushed and your hands tremblingly traveling to the buttons of your dress, slowly undoing them, one by one.

“Tesoro, what..?” Donna asked, looking at you curiously, watching how, controlling your shyness, you took off the sleeves of your arms, thus revealing your partially covered torso.

“Shh, I'm embarrassed if you talk,” you whispered nervously. “Just let me do it by myself”

She nodded, not wanting to bother you, to intimidate you, running her gaze over all the parts of your body that were gradually becoming exposed.

“Sei una dea della bellezza,” the lady in black murmured, breathing nervously in front of your half-naked body.

“Don't even talk to me like that. Don't use Italian against me. You know I'm embarrassed…” you protested amused, grunting in shame, unable to hold her gaze.

You could sense a smile as she approached, surrounding your body with her hands, caressing your waist, your back, lifting your chin so your blushing face looked at hers.

“I will never be tired of saying how beautiful you are,” she whispered in your ear, with that melodic voice that always made you squirm, while her soft, delicate hands took advantage of your distraction to act on the clasp of your bra, unbuttoning it instantly.

You laughed again, resisting the embarrassing impulse of your hands, which asked you to cover yourself. Fighting your own shyness, you succeeded, while Donna helped you face that absurd shame with a soft kiss from her lips, with some sensual caresses on your bare back.

“Donna…” you whispered, letting yourself be carried away by the humidity of those tender kisses, by the glances, by the sighs, by that increasingly warm, an increasingly anxious atmosphere.

Your dress fell down your legs, crashing against the floor irremediably, making a shiver run through your legs, the cold making the hairs on your skin stand on end.

“Come here, amore mio… This horrible floor is not worthy of your footsteps…” Donna whispered, lifting you in her arms in an elegant way, raising your half-naked body to lay it on the bed.

“Why are you so tender?” you asked amused, crawling across the mattress, closely followed by the brunette, who began to get rid of her own clothes without taking her gaze off yours, a look of admiration, of faith, of adoration to your body, to you.

She didn't answer, she simply moved the black dress away from her body, approaching you little by little, running her hands over your legs, over your waist... Leaning down after a sigh and kissing you again.

They were sweet, tender kisses but they betrayed the passion that had begun to form in the dark bedroom. The blush on your cheeks didn't want to leave your skin, shame refused to give you a break.

You were sure that every time your lover ran her hand over your face, her skin burned from your heat.

You laughed shyly when Donna exposed her bare torso as well, when she did with her hands what yours were incapable of doing, uncovering the beautiful woman beneath that black fabric, that pale, soft skin you were addicted to.

A brave arm pulled her head, returning her lips to where they belonged, directly to yours.

Her hips began to dance over yours. The heat of her body was mixing with yours. The kisses became fiercer, wilder as her fingers enjoyed your body, the shapes and curves you were born with, that kind of cursed blessing your beauty was.

“Gods… I love you…” Donna whispered, shaking her head, unable to repress her excitement any longer, pulling down your underwear with a soft movement, studying your embarrassed face, your gaze desperately searching for a place to focus on that wasn't her body.

“I love you,” you repeated, trembling as that hand ran down your chest, the other spreading your legs, exposing you completely.

The wine seemed pale compared to your cheeks. Your whole body trembled nervously as Donna finished undressing, as she positioned herself on top of you, ready to make you hers.

“Please, if you want me to stop, just…” she said, looking for the doubt in your eyes, that unmovable blush on your cheeks when her erection brushed the moisture of your folds, when you saw for yourself what you were doing to her body.

“No, no, Donna…” you said, gaining confidence due to that obscene, lustful touch, one that you had already experienced, but that you had a hard time getting used to. “Just… Don’t, don't look at me, okay?”

The brunette laughed, delaying her entrance and shaking her head, running a hand over your reddish cheeks and another one over your leg, scratching it without harming you.

“You can't ask me that…” she whispered with a smile distorted by desire, while her hips forced her to move so as not to lose that wet contact. “Watching you is my greatest hobby… You can close your eyes.”

You obeyed, writhing from the sensations her hard shaft sent to your body, not wanting to see her gaze when making love to you, not wanting to feel the shame that would prevent you from enjoying.

“Ah, Donna…” you gasped when she finally entered slowly, letting your wet entrance adapt, without forcing, enjoying the moisture that surrounded her, the ease with which your body accepted that invasion.

“Am I hurting you, amore mio?” Donna asked in an almost silent whisper, moving more slowly until she entered completely.

You, unable to say a word, unable to bear that incredible pleasure, shook your head, running your hands around her waist, bringing her even closer to you. That gesture reached the brunette, who quickly understood the message, you wanted her to move.

You would never say anything, you would never ask for anything. The only thing you could do without dying of embarrassment was to moan, to say her name, but never interrupt or dare to ask her for something different.

The wet sound of your bodies was accompanied by discreet moans, by the random sound of your lips colliding with each other in a disorderly manner. Everything gave you pleasure: her hands, her erection deforming your walls, her soft caresses, her reassuring, flattering whispers…

You were stupid. You would never give up that, the comfort of her body inside yours, the love and understanding that only Donna could give you.

In the middle of that lustful festival, your arms moved alone, running down her back, enjoying her skin when you thought she didn't notice, when the soft but determined movements of her hips began to become erratic.

Her hands also lost their tenderness, gently grabbing your legs, lifting them at will. Just thinking about that look, that eye shining with desire as she took you… Just with that thought you let out a louder moan and your hips began to want to keep up.

It was an intense rhythm, embarrassing but not wanting to miss anything, wanting to enjoy each one of those wonderful sensations, that very sexual, erotic and hot way that Donna had of expressing her love for you.

“(Y/N)…” she moaned, losing the rhythm, moaning faster, unable to control her movements, scratching your legs, your fragile skin.

That only made you tense up, scream, say words you would never say while you noticed how your body contracted, how your walls played with her erection, hugging it, holding it, squeezing it until, overwhelmed by the pleasure of your orgasm, she released herself inside you, stopping her body as close to yours as possible, with her legs shaking and her seed sending soft and wet caresses to you.

“My love…” you sighed when the lady fell exhausted on your chest, catching her breath little by little, with a smile, not wanting to leave your wet and warm body.

“(Y/N)… Ti amo, ti amo…” she repeated over and over again, finally coming out of you and covering your face with kisses, settling you under the sheets, letting her body surround yours, protecting it from shame, from your fears…

“Donna,” you said, snuggling up to her, controlling your still agitated breathing, melting into her body in a tender embrace, far from the lust of moments before. That was the true reward, for which you fought day after day with her insecurities and with yours.

Her hugs, her caresses, her fingers tangling in your hair… That was much better than Paradise, much more pleasurable than anything else.

“Are you okay?” the lady asked after a few minutes in which your breathing was the only soundtrack. Her voice was tired, exhausted from the effort, but always, always in love.

“Yes…” you sighed, snuggling up a little more, wrapping her other arm around yourself, daring to look at her smiling face, making your ears delight in her soft and affectionate laughter. “I've never been better…”

[joelalorian]

a hero's blessing

marcus moreno x f!reader | wc: 4474 | 18+ mdni | masterlist

Thank you to the marvelous @perotovar for hosting such a fun and interesting challenge with the Offering of Frith event and for providing this beautiful moodboard! I had such fun learning about Norse mythology and the goddess Frith. This is also my first foray into writing my lovely husband Marcus Moreno. If you have not done so already, please check out all of the other amazing contributions to this challenge here!

Summary: The Norse goddess Frigg weaves the fabric of destiny for every living being. A Norwegian gift of a thousand thanks unlocks a destiny which Marcus did not see coming.

Warnings: Not much, really. Some cursing. A touch of angsty thoughts turns to fluff. Some adult themes and implied sex. My blog as a whole is 18+ mdni. A little bit of info dump. No use of y/n, ever. Two idiots with crushes stumbling through life until fate intervenes. Dividers courtesy of @saradika-graphics.

The people of Norway cheered when the Heroics delivered the final blow to the blight that menaced the women of their country for weeks. The skies cleared and birdsong once again echoed through the air as if the Norse Gods themselves expressed their heartfelt thanks.

Marcus Moreno looked up from a knelt position, still catching his breath after the hard-fought battle, to see a weathered old man standing before him with a toothless grin.

“Tusen takk,” the old man said in a raspy voice roughened by age. Placing one wrinkled hand on Marcus’ shoulder, the old man reached out with the other and it took Marcus a moment to realize the old man held something in his hand, extending it in offer.

Instinctively, Marcus stumbled to his feet, a gloved hand stretching out to meet the old man’s. He stared in wonder as the old man gently placed a metal pendant emblazoned with an intricate Norse knot into his hand. Like the old man himself, the emblem had been weathered by the passage of time, yet remaining ever sturdy, the black leather rope attached to it brand new and tied in a neat knot.

Marcus stared at it in wonder, wide brown eyes tracing the never-ending pattern of knotwork as the metal gently vibrated through his glove. His gaze dragged upwards from his hand to meet the milky eyes of the old man; eyebrows raised in question.

“A symbol of our gratitude, a thousand thanks, if you will,” the old man said in English. Arthritic fingers grasped the thin strip of knotted leather and reached upwards to place it over Marcus’ head. “Said to be blessed by the Norse goddess Frigg, wife of Odin. May it bring you love and harmony in this life and beyond.”

Too stunned to form words, Marcus nodded with a warm and grateful smile as the gift buzzed against his chest, calling to his heart.

A hundred pages deep into a thick text on Norse mythology, Marcus didn’t hear the first few gentle knocks on his office door. You waited a solid minute, unsure what to do knowing he was in there and finally pounding on the door, snapping his attention away from the book.

“Come in!” Marcus called, marking his page before he closed the book and leant back in his chair. His face split into a soft smile as you entered the room, a stack of files in hand.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Moreno,” you offered, placing the files down on his desk, the top one open to a form needing his signature. “This needs to be signed right away. As do these few.”

“How many times do I need to tell you to call me Marcus?” He reached forward pen in hand and signed the forms you laid before him. “Mr. Moreno sounds too…”

“Formal?” you supplied helpfully. “Would you really prefer I call you Marcus?”

His breath caught in his chest hearing his name coming from your lips. He longed for you to say his name every damn day.

“Yes,” Marcus replied with a nod.

The token of appreciation given to him after completing the mission in Norway sat heavy against his chest, hidden beneath his dress shirt. Marcus felt incapable of removing it once donned in the presence of the old Norwegian man, and now, for the first time since the day the old man slipped it over his head, it buzzed against his skin suddenly.

It was also the first time he spoke to you since he returned.

Coincidence?

Or could there be something more to it?

“Well, if you insist, Marcus.” You smiled sweetly at him as you scooped up the necessary forms. With a cheeky wink, you offered one last parting shot. “You are the boss, after all.”

His eyes tracked your departing form with a crooked grin and furrowed brow, one hand rubbing at the warmth in his chest.

It took Marcus a week to determine that the pendant only buzzed with electricity when in your presence. It didn’t happen with anyone else. Not Missy, or his mom, or the pretty barista at the coffee bar down the block from Heroics HQ, or any of the moms who routinely tried to flirt with him when he picked Missy up from school. It certainly didn’t happen with any of the other men he interacted with daily.

After one too many experiments, Marcus also concluded it appeared to be unrelated to his powers. He apologized profusely to Sharon in Purchasing when he fried the new coffee machine after testing that theory while waiting for a fresh cup of coffee.

What was it about you, he wondered. The mystery irked him.

As any man would, or so Marcus thought, he blithely ignored the fact that he harbored an innocent workplace crush on you since the day you started at HQ, wide eyes twinkling in the fluorescent light as you eagerly trotted behind his mother when she gave you the penny tour. One glance at your ethereal beauty and Marcus knew he liked you in a way entirely inappropriate for the workplace.

Some might have called it love at first sight, but not pragmatic ol’ Marcus Moreno.

No, for the sake of his own sanity (and his heart), Marcus buried that crush deep, deep down beneath layers of grief for his wife’s passing and any number of other suppressed emotions, never to see the light of day again. Until now, apparently.

Marcus wished he thought to ask the weathered old man in Norway some questions about the nature of the pendant before just putting it on without thought. For all he knew, it could have been cursed to turn him into a salamander.

That would have totally sucked.

Marcus spent days with his nose buried in research trying to figure out the meaning behind the gift. He even went as far as calling the nearest museum to speak to a historian. In all, it took him three weeks and a coffee meeting with the historian to finally get some answers that, well, almost made sense.

The spitting image of Sean Connery in his portrayal of Dr. Henry Jones Sr. in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade – honestly, they could be brothers! – the historian introduced himself as Franklin Rockel, an expert in ancient European history. “So, how can I be of help to the leader of the Heroics?”

Marcus thanked Franklin for meeting with him and dove into a long-winded explanation of the Norwegian mission and the subsequent token of appreciation gifted to him. Pulling the pendant from beneath his shirt, he showed it to the man without once removing it from his around his neck. The tips of ears turned pink as he explained to the older man how it buzzed against his chest every time you were near.

Visibly fascinated with the tale, Franklin stared down at the knotwork in the metal with a broadening smile. “What do you know of the Norse gods?” Franklin spoke with a calming lilt to his voice.

“Just what I’ve been able to read up on in the past few weeks. Lots of lore, just like with Greek gods. I didn’t find much on Frigg – that’s who the old Norwegian man told me blessed this piece. Just a bit about her being Odin’s wife and the goddess of destiny, love, marriage, and the skies. A few other things, but that’s what stood out to me.”

Pulling out a small notepad, Marcus sat straight-backed, ready to absorb every word Franklin shared.

“That’s a good start. Frigg is said to have weaved the very clouds, though that could just be a metaphor for her abilities with shaping destiny. She knows the fates of every living thing and holds that information dear, not allowing herself or others to interfere with divine destiny, no matter the eventual outcome.”

Franklin pulled a battered yet clearly beloved tome from his satchel, opening it to a depiction of Frigg in all her majestic maternal glory, her gold dress enhancing the youthful glow of her skin.

He eyed Marcus as the younger man gazed at the illustration, soaking in each detail in true wonder.

“It is not immaterial that you are a widower, Marcus.” Franklin said, voice measured as Marcus’ eyes shot to the historian’s in surprise before remembering it was common knowledge that the leader of the Heroics lost his wife some time ago. “Frigg is the guardian of familial and marital bliss and harmony, seeking to comfort and guide those dealing with the complexities of these bonds. She knew of your eventual loss long before it happened and now, she offers a beacon of hope, a sign that a new love exists for you.”

Flipping through the fragile pages, Franklin pointed out a particular passage that reiterated much of what he just described. He allowed Marcus several minutes to absorb that and more about Frigg, watching as the younger man jotted down a few notes while reading. When Marcus sat upright once again, a little bewildered, Franklin smiled.

“Frigg must feel a connection to you. You share several qualities – wisdom, a strong understanding of diplomacy and strategy, a protective nature with children.” Pointing to the metal dangling from Marcus’ neck, Franklin continued, “There is no doubt in my mind this was meant for you. The fact that it buzzes when only a certain person is near – that alone convinces me, as it should you, that you are destined to be with this woman.”

Franklin packed away the tome, finishing the last sips of his Earl Grey tea while Marcus tried to make sense of all that he just learned. Tapping gently on the table as he stood, Franklin offered one last pearl of wisdom.

“What you do with all that I told you is up to you, but Frigg’s intentions are clear.”

Marcus didn’t know what to think but nodded and thanked the man all the same.

In the week following his meeting with the renowned historian, Marcus ran into you everywhere. At HQ it was entirely expected and normal (and brightened his day every single time, whether he’d admit it or not), but then he started seeing you at places he never had before. Did he just never notice you there before or was Frigg’s influence pulling you together more and more?

He ran into you at the grocery store where he did his weekly shopping on Friday evenings, catching sight of you frowning at the selection of fresh seafood. At the mall when he took Missy clothes shopping – his baby girl was growing up so fast! – and you stopped them to say hi, smiling brightly at his little girl. And even at his favorite pizza place blocks from his house, where he popped in to pick up the best pie in the area two nights a week like clockwork. He saw you every-damn-where. And maybe he just never noticed before or fate really was drawing you both closer, making you circle each other until your orbits finally collided.

Marcus would have thought you a stalker if not for the raw look of bewildered surprise each time before your expression split into a delighted grin. It was clear you were equally, and pleasantly, confused by the sudden coincidences. A few times you hung about, chatting with him and Missy before carrying on your way, not wanting to disturb the Moreno’s precious downtime too much. He secretly treasured those moments.

Still, Marcus took no action, too busy overthinking everything, as he was wont to do. Was he even ready for romantic entanglements? He hadn’t so much as gone a date or kissed someone since his wife’s passing, too concerned with taking care of Missy and too consumed with their mutual grief for so long. By conventional standards, it was more than time he moved on, but… He still wore his wedding ring, for fuck’s sake. Despite whatever destiny and fate might say, was he really ready for taking another chance on love? Would he ever be?

He didn’t know.

“Hey Marcus,” your sweet voice snapped him from the paralysis his overthinking led him to. “I stopped at the coffee bar on the way in and got you this. Thought you might need it after that last case.”

Placing a large to-go cup on his desk when Marcus didn’t reach out to accept the offering, you stared at him as your smile fell bit by bit. He just stared at you, but you could practically see his brain working behind those too intense, dark eyes.

“Ar-Are you okay?” you questioned uncertainly.

Did you overstep somehow? He insisted that you call him Marcus instead of Mr. Moreno or Boss, so it couldn’t be the informal greeting. Was bringing him a coffee too much? You’d never done that for him before, but you often brought one back for Shelley in Accounting just like she did for you. It wasn’t that unusual, was it? It seemed like you two were growing closer each day, but did you read it entirely wrong?

Falling deeper into the pit of self-doubt, you fidgeted waiting for Marcus to do or say something, anything, before you melted into a puddle of mortification. When he merely continued staring at you wordlessly, face like a mask of the man you knew for a solid minute, you spun on your heels and fled before the sudden onslaught of embarrassed tears hit.

You barely heard the sudden, frantic call of your name from his lips as he finally snapped out of whatever daze he was in, but it was too late. Your already fragile self-esteem and overwhelming feelings for the leader of the Heroics could not handle whatever the hell just happened. Nor did you understand quite why it bothered you so much, why a piece of your being felt like it had been cut by a sharp knife, and you needed to get as far away from Marcus Moreno as you could for a hot minute.

Scratch that. You needed to be anywhere but Heroics HQ for the rest of the day. Dropping an email to your boss, feigning food poisoning, once you returned to your office, you shut down your computer and skulked home.

Marcus snapped from his self-inflicted panic moments too late, shouting your name but failing to get up and follow you.

Shit! What the hell was wrong with him?

Marcus didn’t have an answer for that. The vibrations from the pendant against his chest became overwhelming when you stood before him, strumming against his skin harder than it ever had before, and he froze. His brain must have short circuited or something. There was no other explanation.

Marcus flung himself back in his chair with a weighty sigh, one large coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. He caught the shattered look on your face even through the haze and it pierced his heart. It wasn’t intentional, him being a dick. He had to make sure you knew that. But how?

Hemming and hawing for a solid half hour, he was no closer to coming up with a worthy apology. He hated hurting your feelings or making you question yourself, no matter how unintentional. You deserved so much better than that. You probably deserved better than him. No, you definitely did.

This goddess Frigg and her blessing were really messing with his head, throwing his ability to think and act out of whack. How could he possibly know what he felt when it seemed like the universe decided for him without ever asking if he was ready?

Swiping his hands down his face, scrubbing roughly at the neatly trimmed scruff on his face, Marcus heaved a sigh, feeling like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Whatever it is can’t be that bad, mijo.” His mother stood in the doorway, one hand on her cane and the other resting against the doorframe.

Her knowing smile worried him but he didn’t have the energy to trade barbs and hidden meanings with the inimitable wits of Anita Moreno right now. Not when he long suspected that she had the power of omniscience.

“Not now, mom,” Marcus groaned, fingers massaging his temples as his eyelids shuttered closed.

“Yes now, mijo,” Anita replied, stepping into his office and easing herself down into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I just watched one of the administrators I hired for you rush out of the building nearly in tears. What did you do to that sweet girl?”

His eyes snapped open with another groan. As if he didn’t feel awful enough, now his mother wanted to give him shit over you, too. Leveling tired eyes at the woman who told him many times that she brought him into the world, and she could surely bring him out of it if he didn’t behave when he was younger, he sat back in his seat.

“You already know, I’m sure. Why don’t you just let me have it so I can get back to work.”

“Why would I let you have it? Are you admitting that you acted poorly?”

This back and forth was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

“Must we do this? I’m exhausted and confused, and I know I messed up, but I don’t know if what I feel is my feelings or fate telling me what to feel, and I hate that.” That summed it up pretty well, actually, and now that he admitted it out loud, Marcus hoped his mom would have some helpful insight.

“Well, tell me this. Did you have feelings for her before you were given that trinket you’re wearing?” Anita watched him consider the question, a smirk stretching her lips when realization hit him.

“Point taken,” Marcus sighed.

“Good. Now get off your ass and go apologize. That girl is head over heels for you as much as you are for her,” she replied. Watching her son’s eyebrows shoot upwards, she waved him off. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You both think you hid it well. Pathetic effort, really. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes and half a brain that you both had crushes on each other. Fate is finally telling you that this is meant to be, that it’s okay to move on and be happy again, mijo. Don’t spit in the universe’s face thinking you know better than it does.”

Marcus hugged his mom, finally allowing himself to accept that destiny might be on to something. “I gotta go. Can you pick Missy up from school? I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

Shooing him out of the office, Anita assured him she’d look after Missy. “If you apologize right, I imagine we won’t see you until tomorrow.”

Marcus weaved his hybrid sedan through the afternoon traffic, impatient to get to your house, to make things right. It was well past time to be honest with you, to share his feelings. He only hoped his mother was right, that you liked him as much as he liked you. Even if you didn’t, he still owed you an apology for earlier.

Pulling up to the curb out front of your quaint home, your sensible car parked in the driveway, he realized that you lived only blocks from him. How he never saw you out and about in the neighborhood until recently was beyond him. Maybe the timing was always off until now.

Taking a moment to steel his nerves, Marcus shut the car off and climbed out of the driver's seat. He swiped sweaty palms down the legs of his pants as he walked up the small front porch and knocked on your door.

God, he hoped you’d hear him out, that you wouldn’t just slam the door in his face.

A hopeful smile spread across his face when he heard the lock click and you opened the door, looking beautiful in loungewear instead of your typical business casual outfits you wore to work. The material looked soft, and Marcus felt the sudden urge to nuzzle his face into the fabric and beg your forgiveness for being an idiot hit him.

Your pouty frown, scrunching your little nose, almost to adorable to handle, Marcus blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” The words left his mouth in a rush of breath before his brain could think better of it and the tips of his ears flushed as you gaped at him. “I, uh… shit, sorry! Getting a little ahead of myself. May I come in? I owe you an apology and an explanation.”

Hesitating, your eyes scanned Marcus’ handsome face, and upon seeing the sincerity in those eyes so brown they reminded you of melted chocolate, you stepped aside to invite him inside your modest home. “Forgive the mess,” you mumbled as you led him to the living room and motioned for him to take a seat on the couch.

Glancing around while you hovered nervously, Marcus soaked in the details of your living space and wondered what mess you referred to. Everything had a place, just like your office at work. From the pale blue walls to the light gray couch with the fluffiest cushions to the black and white portraits on the mantle above the fireplace, he could see bits of you everywhere. It fascinated him, this peek at your life outside of Heroics HQ.

Heart pounding in his chest, Marcus motioned for you to join him on the couch. “Sit with me, please. I need to say a few things, starting with I’m sorry for behaving so oddly earlier. There is much to share with you that will hopefully help you understand why I froze.”

You nodded and sat next to him, still a bit confused on whatever the hell was going on. Marcus launched into an explanation of the gift given to him in Norway, the meaning behind it, his conversations with the historian as well as his mother. You sat there staring at him in wonder, mouth dropping further open as the pieces of the puzzle began to come together.

When his voice tapered off, dark eyes beseeching you to not reject him, you reached out to him, a soft expression in your own eyes. “May I – uh, may I see the pendant?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. But first, I want you to feel something.” Marcus grasped your hand in his and pressed it against his chest, right over where the pendant hummed against his skin beneath his shirt. “Do you feel that?”

Eyes widening, your gaze flashed back and forth between his chest and his eyes a few times before gasping out a quiet “Yeah.”

“That’s what it does whenever I’m near you. The closer you are, the stronger the vibrations,” Marcus explained. “When you brought me that coffee, it was so thoughtful and unexpected, and it caught me completely off guard. And for some reason, the pendant buzzed abnormally hard against my chest in that moment, and it all became overwhelming.”

Your fingers traced around the feel of the vibrating metal as Marcus spoke, and you knew at once how distracting it all must be for him.

“So, we’re like soul mates, then?” you questioned, bolding tugging on the leather rope to pull the pendant out from beneath his clothes.

“Of a sort. We were destined to be together according to the goddess Frigg.” Marcus gulped, watching intently as your fingertip delicately traced the knotwork pattern on the metal. “How do you, uh, feel about that?”

Your eyes, glossy and full of wonder, met his and you flashed him a sweet smile. “Well, I’ve had a debilitating crush on you since we first met, so I can’t say I’m against the idea.” Your laughter tinkled in the air and his heart soared.

“You have? I never knew,” Marcus replied in wonder, his own face split by a jaw-breaking grin. “I had one on you, too.”

Quirking an eyebrow at him, eyes twinkling in the dim lighting of the room, you said, “Well, that was the point, wasn’t it? I was trying to be professional, and I never thought you would feel the same, so I buried that crush deep in the depths of my soul.”

Stunned, Marcus spluttered before finding his words. “How could I not feel the same way? You are amazing and beautiful and smart…”

Lunging forward, you kissed him, cutting off the rest of his response. The kiss started off as hesitant exploration of lips and quickly morphed into an unleashing of pent-up desire. Teeth clashed and tongues tangled as the kisses deepened and control weakened. With swift movements, Marcus shifted until you were sprawled across his lap, hands wandering until layers of clothing were tossed aside in your combined need to feel more, more, more.

When Marcus flipped you onto your back against the plush cushions of the couch, the pendant dangled between your naked bodies as he hovered over you. It vibrated with such intensity that it visibly swayed with its own energy. You pulled him down on top of you, feeling that intense yet pleasant buzz and heavy weight from the pendant pressed against your skin as the two of you came together as one.

Afterwards, when you both lay together sated and sweaty, chests still heaving as you recovered, you ran your fingers through his thick locks. “We really owe Frigg for bringing us together.”

Marcus hummed, pressing a series of kisses along your collar bone and up the side of your neck until he reached your face. “We sure do. I’m not sure this ever would have happened without her influence. I don’t know that I ever would have found the courage to admit my feelings otherwise.”

You both gazed at each other with love in your eyes, feeling grateful for that old Norwegian man, his surprising gift, and the wonderful blessing from the goddess Frigg. You laid there for hours, talking and laughing and just genuinely enjoying each other’s company. The future before you looked much brighter and Marcus excitedly invited you over for dinner with him and Missy the following evening, hoping that you would never leave once you arrived at his house.

Later that night, while in cuddled together in your bed, Marcus confessed that he loved you. The crush he harbored in silence for so long turned to love at some point without his knowledge and now his heart practically overflowed with it. He asked if it was too soon to say something like that and you shook your head.

“Not when we were destined to be together. I love you, too, Marcus Moreno.”

The pendant buzzed heartily once more before going still as if Frigg herself was saying “Finally.”

thank you for reading! feedback is always appreciated but never demanded.

[lauralot89]

"Now, sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You'll excoose me refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore meals. I gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions."

Did journalists actually used to write out accents phonetically or is Bram Stoker just doing this for fun

That 'ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three grey ones that came from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four years ago.

Charles Jamrach was a real wildlife dealer, most (in)famous for the time when a tiger escaped and grabbed a small child, who survived. This incident is now immortalized with a statue:

You could just do anything back in the day

He 'ad white kid gloves on 'is 'ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says: 'Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.'

Thanks, Dracula, very helpful.

That there man kem over, and blessed but if he didn't put in his hand and stroke the old wolf's ears too!

Dracula is a Disney princess (countess) confirmed

anceterer

it took me like five tries to understand this

"Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way; it seems to me that 'ere wolf escaped—simply because he wanted to get out."

This one ain't been used to fightin' or even to providin' for hisself

Hence why Dracula had to lob him at the window like a basketball

well, then I shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babby the less

How is babby formed? how is babby formed how girl get pragnent

I shall take this cylinder with me, and then I can complete my entry on Lucy's phonograph.

Can't you only record like two minutes of audio on those?

Did you not get my telegram?

GREAT WORK, VAN HELSING

I flew downstairs and returned with it, taking care to smell and taste it, lest it, too, were drugged like the decanter of sherry which I found on the table.

For as much shit as I have deservedly given Jack "Medical Malpractice" Seward, I have to hand it to him, I would never have thought of that

I noticed that Van Helsing tied a soft silk handkerchief round her throat.

Professor, I hate to tell you this, but I think that vampires can bite through silk

I fear to trust those women, even if they would have courage to submit.

why though

"What's the matter with me, anyhow?"

QUINCEY MORRIS MY BELOVED

A brave man's blood is the best thing on this earth when a woman is in trouble. You're a man and no mistake.

Everyone who meets Quincey is immediately in awe, as well they should be

I found Van Helsing with a sheet or two of note-paper in his hand

She wrote all that in two pages? How small is her writing

Do not trouble about it now. Forget it for the present. You shall know and understand it all in good time; but it will be later.

He can't keep getting away with this

What is it that's wrong with her? The Dutchman—and a fine old fellow he is; I can see that—said, that time you two came into the room, that you must have another transfusion of blood, and that both you and he were exhausted. Now I know well that you medical men speak in camera, and that a man must not expect to know what they consult about in private. But this is no common matter, and, whatever it is, I have done my part...I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already what I did to-day. Is not that so?...if you may tell me without betraying confidence, Arthur was the first, is not that so?...

Quincey is the smartest character in this whole damn book

His very heart was bleeding, and it took all the manhood of him—and there was a royal lot of it, too—to keep him from breaking down.

Everyone's gay for Quincey

Whilst still asleep she took the paper from her breast and tore it in two. Van Helsing stepped over and took the pieces from her. All the same, however, she went on with the action of tearing, as though the material were still in her hands; finally she lifted her hands and opened them as though scattering the fragments.

This is fine.

Van Helsing seemed surprised, and his brows gathered as if in thought, but he said nothing.

The Van Helsing Standard

Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra (Unopened by her.)

WHY MUST YOU HURT ME IN THIS WAY

Mr. Hawkins has died very suddenly.

Oh for fuck's sake, Dracula (yes I know it wasn't him)

Forgive me, dear, if I worry you with my troubles in the midst of your own happiness; but, Lucy dear, I must tell some one, for the strain of keeping up a brave and cheerful appearance to Jonathan tries me, and I have no one here that I can confide in.

I'm dying (Just like Lucy! Heyo!)

[veryluckyclovers]

I work at a women’s rehab facility and I always print up your zines so they can color them and they love your art <333

thank you so incredibly much. this message genuinely made me emotional and i am so thankful you're using my zines for them to color! please feel free to use any of them. i do plan to continuously put more out! i wish you all the best and all of the women a gentle recovery

[waterfallofspace]

Anyone else not able to say 'bless you', either because it feels too personal, embarrassing, slightly erotic or a mixture of all of the above-

Buuuuuut also whenever an event interrupts the conversation, you feel so much more awkward not saying anything/commenting on it at all, and so you wish you could just... say that phrase, or have some other thing that makes sense to say to just- shrug it off???

[feluka]

i hateeee jokes about arab parents only wanting sons and not wanting daughters because 1- when it's like that, that's an awful thing and not something to be joked about and 2- it spits on the face of every arab parent who consistently has to put their middle finger up to the world and say fuck you my daughter is my greatest treasure and i'd rather have her than a thousand sons and i won't hear a word against her!! because in my experience these are the most loving parents to be found in the whole wide world

[deoidesign]

hi. I just read your entire comic in one go and I’ve gotta say I am in love with it. as a trans guy with hair that looks so much like Steve’s and who loves werewolves, I had to physically restrain myself from squealing out loud upon realizing he was trans, because I am currently living in a room with five other people in a small community in rural Alaska and didn’t want to explain to them the joys of seeing yourself in a character and then realizing “oh shit they’re trans like me”. I hope you are doing well, and may the gods of creativity and carpal tunnel bless you with much fruit in your artistic endeavors.

how could I ever show how deeply messages like this touch me... I never know what to say, I want so badly to have the proper words to show you how grateful I am

This is why I write. so that people get to feel like this, and I could never reflect that properly with just my words... But I want you to know that.

I hope to make something that is worthy of your love, and I hope every day that my work is sufficient to show I love you. so I'm relieved that it's succeeding and you feel seen.

Thank you for sharing this with me, I love you

[amethystina]

In chapter 5 of Who Holds the Devil, Ga On doesn't send Elijah a picture of Komi and he wakes up to several messages from her being worried. At this time, what do you think was going on in Switzerland? Because if she was stressing out about it, do you think she spoke to Yo Han or not, and if so, what would be his reaction to this?

Hope you can recover well!

She eventually spoke to Yo Han about it, yes, but it took a while before she got worried enough to do so. She's used to Ga On working late sometimes and so at first she figured her reminders would be enough. Which means she sent the majority of the messages you can read in the chapter before she even considered going to Yo Han.

And, by the time she did, it was mostly because she realised that it was so late in South Korea that Ga On might already have gone to bed, and he still hadn't contacted her. Which she felt was very unlike Ga On.

As for Yo Han's reaction, there is, unsurprisingly, quite a big difference between what he chooses to show Elijah and what he's feeling internally.

He'd be pretty flippant with Elijah, downplaying the severity of the situation, telling her that it's probably nothing to worry about. Maybe Ga On was busy with something and his phone ran out of batteries, so he didn't get her reminders? Or maybe he just forgot? Yo Han can come up with several very rational and logical explanations as to why Ga On didn't send Elijah any pictures.

Basically, Yo Han would try to calm her down by pretending it's no big deal. And tell her to at least wait until tomorrow before she starts freaking out

Internally, however?

He'd be worried, too.

Because no matter what he tells Elijah, Yo Han knows that Ga On wouldn't just forget a promise like that. Ga On cares too much about Elijah to disappoint her. So something must definitely have happened, Yo Han just doesn't know what. And while Yo Han is well aware that the explanation might be perfectly innocent, his mind would also start spinning towards worst-case scenarios — because that's how he works. He needs to be aware of the possibilities and, if need be, prepare for the worst.

And, somewhere around there, Yo Han would be frustrated that he can't track Ga On yet. He already decided that he wants to long before this, but this is one of those things that helps him decide that, yeah, he needs to give Ga On something he can track sooner rather than later so this won't happen again. Yo Han has no idea where Ga On is and it's making him antsy as hell.

The closest he can get is to text Lawyer Ko and ask if Ga On was at work that day. But even if Lawyer Ko says yes, that still leaves far too many possibilities. A lot could have happened to Ga On in the hours after he left work.

But Yo Han would tell Elijah none of this, of course — especially since the crisis is averted the very next day. Nor would Yo Han ever mention it to Ga On. It's just one of those things that stays inside Yo Han's head and influences his choices later, but is more or less invisible to everyone else. Perhaps not so surprisingly, there are a lot of those. As Ga On has pointed out: there's always a reason for the choices Yo Han makes. And, sometimes, the information he's basing that choice on was gathered weeks, months, or even years ago.

That man's brain never stops processing x'D

I hope that answers your question! :D

And thank you so much for the concern 💜 Unfortunately, I'm not feeling the best right now (neither mentally nor physically) but I know it's temporary so I'm just trying to wait it out :)

[awakenthebeing]

I am a disabled child who had a liver transplant at 6 months. Yes, I know that complaining about such a fate is bad, but I want to convey to you the moral, do not harm others. It's not worth your time and effort. God bless you all and your families ❤️.

I wish you nothing but the best!! And I must agree with your words; it's absolutely important to not harm another person. And if you ever accidentally do, always be sure to talk to them about it and find a peaceful way to fix any problems that may arise due to it <:3

Thank you for your kind words... and I absolutely love this artwork!!! I am looking so tenderly at the crafted peppiclone... she is drawn so softly and looks so cute!!! Thank you so so much for making me a gift, I truly appreciate it more than anything!! 💖💖💖💖🙏

[jinstronaut]

Ok love what you’re doing to gif jin daily however could we change up the clips you’re posting? I feel like I’ve been watching him apply cream for a week straight 😂💗

hi!!!! so let me just be really frank you with -- i'm doing this for free! and i have two (2!!) days off a week, and i have to make certain content last longer so i HAVE clips to post. for free!!!!! to me, as jin is my ult bias, i don't even care if i watch him put face cream on four days in a row -- i'm just happy to see his face and i love and miss him so so much!!!!!!!

so i'm sorry if sometimes things feel repetitive, however!!! as of right now, i've made over 700 gifs!! and we're only in the 200s out of 543 days!!!! so think about how many MORE gifs i get to make during this process!!!!!!!!!!

so you'll forgive me if i stretch things out sometimes so i don't 1) go insane hunting out a million things to clip, 2) use up my 48 hours of free time making gifs non stop like a machine, and 3) get creative block and stop the series altogether when i really, really don't want to do that!!

i'm a very very nice person and i'm very very kind and i never really say anything, but this message (as kindly intended as it could have been) really just... does not read the way you think it does, nonnie! so please remember that people like me -- content creators -- spend all of our time doing the things we do for FREE! i have to find the content, clip the content, color the content, and upload the content all by myself! and i never, ever complain, so please just think about these things before you complain about 3 gifsets (out of over 200!!!) being from the same sequence :) thank you so much!

[oumaheroes]

Just popping in to say your writing and fics make me put down my phone, take a walk around my room and brace myself for the absolute amazingness I am about to consume in all my realms including spiritually as I feel like ascending. I wanna take a straw and just slurp up your writing because my word I love everything about it and you're genuinely one of my biggest fandom inspirations <33

I am so totally normal about this ask. So normal and not deeply, spiritually affected by it. I am giving you a normal thank you, because I am not emotionally compromised and am, in fact, fine

[ferromagnetiic]

          【 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃. 】                     @gumpistol   

          Something malicious and vile seeps into his teeth when Luffy eagerly latches his rubbery fingers onto the box. There is a spike of something particularly nasty in him; a pleasure that comes solely from being vindictive and cruel. Luffy will probably be anticipating something sweet, as one would typically expect from a Valentines' day gift. Even if it only comes from a petty prank, there is an ample source of amusement that can be derived from bullying the other Captain. Kid will enjoy his frustration, he thinks, and will savor the annoyance and petulant reaction that transpires following his hopes being completely dashed.

     Yet, Straw Hat's rage does not come. Kid waits to see Luffy's face twist into an angry scowl, inspired by the same expression the gift giver in question was so prone to bearing in his presence.           He waits for Luffy to yell at him. To call him mean. A jerk. To say that he is horrible, as if genuinely offended by the lack of tasty treats.

     He doesn't. He is smiling, even after he has acknowledged the pathetic slip of paper. Can the boy not read? What the hell did he think was going on, here? Why was he so God damn pleased about it?

Warmth begins to rise to Kid's face, and his cheeks are glowing a conspicuous rosy red. This wasn't supposed to make Luffy like him more! The very indignation he had intended to inspire in the other Captain had missed its mark entirely, and he has subsequently subjected himself to the very same emotion. Bastard!

         Anger bubbles past his lips all too quickly, and he's abruptly raising his voice.

     ❝ IT AIN'T A FUCKIN' VIVRE CARD! I TOLD YA TO PISS OFF!      DON'T GET HAPPY OVER IT, WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YA?! ❞

The reaction was too genuine; too honestly accepting, regardless of intent. Kid doesn't know what to do with it. Even when he only exposes him to unpleasant behavior, Luffy doesn't seem put off by him at all. He still continues to like him, in the face of everything he says and does to him. Straw Hat still regards him as a friend, despite all of his spiteful acts.

          What a prick.

     Maybe he should beat the shit out of him for embarrassing him like this.

[rpfisfine]

i cannnntttt stop saying "rpf is literally fine" like 20 times a day and thinking of you every time i say it. this is coming from a person whos never even thought about rpf past the age of 15. rpf is literally fine.......

^^^^^ LITERALLY US dude ive literally been saying it to myself as well ill just be going abt my day muttering rpf is fine to myself under my breath the curse is spreading….. rpf IS literally fine it’s like drugs everyone should be doing it…

[kyouka-supremacy]

@ All the Dazai and Chuuya cosplay pairs I've seen today at comicon: I'm deeply in love with you

[pentition]

I'll share more of my pen related though with you. Current thought, he should glue those plastic googly eyes to his nipples and flex to show off.

Googly eyes as nipple tassels was not something I knew I needed until this very moment sgdhfgjghk

Watch them go crazy when he goes jogging. Everyone in Sandrock: ??? The builder and Miguel: Unsurprised Matilda: Goes back inside

Pen just stating they are keeping watch, full 360 no scope when his pecs are bouncing and those googly eyes are rolling. Is he being serious or not? It's impossible to tell but at the end of the day it's really no wonder no one ever gets the jump on him.