#damiano David angst

[filthforfriends]

Shame and Pleasure

(Previously known as DILFiano)

CW: 24 year age gap!

Word count: 4.7k

Damia’s voice has some sort of hypnotic quality. It lulls you into a state where other thoughts are quieted, and your scope of focus narrows to sensation. Without thinking about it, you surge forward and hug Damia, slotting your face against the bone of his shoulder. Unintentionally, your unfiltered gratitude is what finally gets to him.

“Stellina, I want to do this a little differently.” His hand is gone so quickly that your body doesn’t know to stop moving with it.  For a moment, you’re thrusting against the air. Even without the cliroral stimulation, you were wound so god damn tight. Damia doesn’t wipe his fingers off. He crawls up to the headboard and arranges pillows behind his back so casually. Poise. You can’t help but feel betrayed. Bringing you so close to orgsam then pausing was mean. 

“Do you understand that we can stop whenever you want?” You nod, confused. “Are you absolutely sure you want to continue? I need a verbal answer for that.”

“Yes,” you state firmly.

“Take your skirt off so I can admire you.” Heart racing, you attempt to control your trembling hands on the zipper, but he sees. Damia waits for your face to reveal uncertainty while you strip. He observes none because there's none to observe. In fact, it's exactly the pointed attention you’d been craving. Damia opens the drawer in his bedside table. You take off the bra first, hoping he’ll look up to admire your underwear, that his breath will catch at all the expanses of taut and supple skin. Instead, his attention stays on the contents of the drawer. 

“Someones not very appreciative,” you tease. He spares an insultingly brief glance and gaffs.

“Cheap lingerie loses its thrill after your 20s.” Damiano freezes completely and winces. “Sorry, that…Christ, I’m sorry.” You can see his brain recalibrating to parental/nurturer to assess the damage he’d cause to your confidence. Admittedly, the snub stung, but reassurance wasn’t something women his age needed. So you didn’t need it either.

“You know what else lost its thrill? Razor wire in my asscrack. I’m never wearing those again.” He lets out a short series of awkward, barking laughs while you take a seat on the edge of the mattress. Damia appears mystified at how well you’re handling his slight. He's trying to see through the cracks in your facade and you're praying he can’t.

“Apparently I forgot that being an insensitive asshole is also supposed to stay in your 20s,” he sighs, cocking his head to the side. “God, what a dumb thing to say.”. 

“So…” you probe.

“I won’t kiss you,” he states absolutely. You make a dramatic sound of indignation. “So now that I’ve fucked up your arousal and the mood –” Playful, he draws out the first syllable of the sentence just as you had.

“There was a mood?” you chirp, crawling towards him. Recognizing it was an accidental admission. Damia leans over and checks Icarus’ location, which is very promising. He lets out a burdened sigh.

“Yes, there was a mood. C’mon, don’t be coy.” As Damia sits up, you move onto his lap. “Woah! Okay,” he throws his hands up.

“Want me to get off?”

“No,” he whines, like he’d prefer his answer to be a lie. “Well, I – hmm. This isn’t what I had planned.” Accidentally, you’ve switched the dynamic. This was the first time you’d seen Damiano more present than tortured. If you had control that meant, however much he may deny it, Damia had allowed you to. So you settle yourself in a straddle. Very slowly, Damia’s hands lower and come to rest timidly on your thighs.

“Will you take your clothes off?”

“Absolutely not,” he answers curtly. That rule was clearly nonnegotiable. Testing exactly where the boundaries lay, you lower a hand to Damia’s groin. The pajamas are navy so it takes a second to find his cock. He’s so hard he’s throbbing, which is no small achievement at 42, you’ve heard. Damia swats your hand away, refusing to meet your eyes.

“This isn’t about me.”

“This is about both of us. Stop kicking yourself for getting hard.” He shakes his head and looks away, scowling. “It's a natural reaction to stimulation, not a condemnation of your character, Damia. Fuck’s sake, be decent to yourself.” 

“Wise words,” he replies, cynically. He is so clearly overwhelmed with self-loathing that it hurts to watch. A better person would leave rather than make him face this.

“Why can’t I touch you?” 

“Because we aren’t going to have sex!” he snaps. That wounds you quicker than you can control your expression.

“But what the fuck am I supposed to do? Nothing? That’s cruel. Maybe I could be a decent human being and resist this if, if — you, I…” He tilts his head back and growls in frustration. “I didn’t even know you could make love to someone’s hand.” Now you’re the one plagued by self-consciousness. “If I hadn’t ruined it, you’d be able to grind on my hand to completion. Like…” Damia is so in awe that he’s speechless. He’s also damn near hysterical. It’s such a juxtaposition to your emotions at the moment. Damia’s burning shame morphs into a tingling sensation between your legs, just as fiery.

“You’re so pent and you desperately need someone to take care of you. So then what? I just send you off into the night for some high schooler that doesn’t know his herpes status or some college guy who treats you like you’re disposable? ”

“I already did go off into the night and pick someone.” You scoot closer to Damiano and watch that settle in.

“Your ability to always say the right things is gonna get you in so much trouble.” 

“I wanna be in trouble with you.” Another car drives by. Another piece of Damiano is illuminated by a slant of light. This one is jaded, dissatisfied with a life he knows should bring him joy. In reality, that life acts like an echo in an empty room, a reminder of how vast the unfulfilled spaces within him are.

“Why can’t I kiss you?”

“What I had in mind –”

“I know. But right now, why can’t I kiss you?” You lean in close enough to touch lips and stop. Damia clearly wanted to, but he had to instigate.

“I don’t know how I’ll feel about it.” His breath hits your face as he whispers.

“Last time –”

“Last time was amazing, but I’m afraid it will feel wrong. Guilt and arousal are opposites for me.” He clears his throat roughly. “Which is why it can’t happen.”

“Okay,” you switch to a whisper. “Could we start small and see how you feel?” 

“I…yeah. Or, no! Fuck.” He sighs heavily and closes his eyes. “I shouldn’t be doing this at all. What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t believe –” You grab his hand and push it between your legs. “Oh my god…you’re already wet again.” You press your foreheads together and nod. Damia drags his middle finger between your labia, cupping your vulva to apply gratifying pressure. Meanwhile you kiss his neck.

“Do you like licking?” 

“Licking, biting, but not hard scratching.” You run your tongue up the column of his neck and trap his earlobe between your teeth. Very slowly, you pull downwards with your mouth and Damia shudders while he finally moans. Your tongue traces the shell of his ear, running behind it as well. It finally hits you that this is Damia inside your mouth. No, it's not as you had hoped, but the fact of it happening at all was mind blowing.

With every taste of salty skin, you said a little prayer, worshiping at Damiano’s altar. Some greater force, may it be sexual chemistry or supernatural, had brought you here. Cherishing and savoring Damia in every way possible was the only option you’d ever consider. Just the reassuring pressure of his hand made you pussy throb.

Having covered his neck, you start using your hands. One caresses where your tongue had already been, and the other pushed Damia’s hair back from his face. You kiss from jaw to hairline, not pecks, but slow and open-mouthed. Your body sways upwards with each inhale, each kiss, and downwards which each exhale, each parting of skin. There's nothing to grind against, but keeping time with the ebb and slow of sensuality just intuitively made sense. 

When you switch to the otherside, Damia stops you, his hand on your jaw, thumb on your chin. He holds your face completely still, and is totally stationary himself. Only his eyes move, and rapidly. Those two seconds last your entire lifetime. 

He pulls you in, loses courage, but the forward momentum has already been established. In the spirit of starting slow, the first kiss is chaste. Lips meet, then part. That’s all. Your eyes fly open, but Damia’s remain closed as he thinks. The hand between your legs pulls away. For a moment your stomach drops, but then you feel that arm wrap itself tightly around your lower back. 

This next kiss is just as demure, except Damia pulls your entire body against his. It’s that breath-taking physical intimacy from the rooftop, forceful, but on the right side of two much. Damia knew how to handle a woman. He didn’t touch you like you like there were 24 years of separation. 

“No.” He shakes his head, brow furrowed, pulling back. 

“Yes,” you insist, surging forward. “100% yes.” Instead of freezing up, you remember to embrace him back. The next kiss is so slow that the skin of your lips stick together as you pull away.

“Cazzo,” he grunts, eyes squeezed shut. “Are you sure?”

“So fucking sure.” You press your chest to his and the skin to skin contact changes everything. “Absolutely positive,” you moan. Your nipples harden against Damia’s sternum, body waiting in rapture for a caress or so much as a puff of air from a sigh. You’re left feral and clawing at him, mewling in an effort to achieve more contact. Damia’s chest hair tickled your nipples as they became so hard you whined in discomfort, rubbing against his warm sternum. 

You’re so overcome that Damia has to use his thumb to tug at the corner of your lips. As soon as you remember to open your mouth, Damiano's tongue is inside. The force of the kiss is literally bending you backwards. Rather than resist, you open your mouth completely and turn your head to eliminate the possibility of space. Total compliance. Allowing Damia to mold your body’s shape has an unique effect on him. Or perhaps it's your breast tissue that he so badly wants to feel with his tongue.

 Either way, his self control shatters. Damia forces you onto your back via his height advantage. His body lands on top of yours in missionary position and he groans in satiation, pulling the sound from as deep as his toes. You shrink into the mattress, both intimidated and overwhelmed with excitement. 

Damia’s teeth sink into the soft tissue on the inside of your bottom lip. Instead of pulling back you take the pain and squeal. His hips buck in response, clothed cock against your naked cunt. The sound you make is loud enough to remind Damia that he needed to employ critical thinking.

“This is why I can’t kiss you,” he gasps, pulling away. The babbling starts before your brain has even decided what you want to say.

“No! Please, please, please. No, it's okay. It’s – you can’t stop. You have to keep going. Damia! Damia, please don’t – god please, please don’t just stop. You can’t, Damia you can’t –” He kisses you once more to silence the begging.

“Shh, shh. Tesorina, let me help, hmm?” He sits back, pulling you up with him after settling his weight. Your movement is disjointed. It feels like you’re still in that moment, where you were exactly two layers of fabric away from Damia making love to you. How could that moment just end? How could he act like it was anything less than earth-shattering? He’s situated against the headboard again before he realizes how shell-shocked you are.

“Sweetheart, come here,” Damia beckons, firmly. You crawl upwards, tripping on his legs before he spreads them wide. He pats the space right in front of him. You kneel there, so aroused and confused and pent up that you might cry or scream.

“Turn around. Back to my chest.” It's awkward and unflattering to reposition. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you whiplash. Just sit down and let me.” Damai wraps both tattooed arms around you, and drags you closer. Encircled in his grasp, his upper body curled over to fit perfectly against your spine, lips to your cheek, yes you understood now. It was so much more intimate than you had expected. 

Damia wanted to watch. He wanted to watch his hands touch you. Penetrate inside of you. He wanted to watch how wet you got. A vibrant color in your peripheral vision catches your attention. It’s one of a couple dozen sex toys in the open drawer. He follows your line of sight.

“Still a yes?” It was intimidating, but not a deterrent.

“Yes,” you pant. One of his hands wanders downwards. The anticipation throbbed in your cunt. You minutely roll your hips up to meet Damia’s touch, turning your gaze upward, because watching the act made you squirm. Impatient didn’t begin to cover it. More like you wanted to peel your first layer of skin off in anticipation. His fingers massaged your vulva, circled your hyman, spreading your pre-cum because he liked the way your pussy glistened.

“Touch me, touch me,” you grunt in frustration. “It hurts.” Your cunt was so engorged that the throbbing was painful. You didn’t deserve the teasing, had barely survived these weeks of anticipation. 

“It’s not fair,” you exclaim in anguish, and it’s not as if you could push his hand downward. Damia was already there. You’d never looked at yourself this way, so directly. Masturbating was always done under the comforter.

“Stellina, what's not fair?” he coos, then kisses your ear. You whine and buck, frustrated that none of the bedding was sturdy enough for grabbing to externalize intense sensation. Something rips.

“Ugh,” you growl. “I’m sorry, it’s just hhhuuh –” Damia pushes two fingers inside. All the way inside, so his hand is flush against your body. His left arm acts as a seatbelt while you tremble. Damia thrusts his digits in and out and your body makes embarrassing, wet noises again.

“My fault. I’m accustomed to teasing being a necessity. But you’re so responsive…” Damia rests his chin on your shoulder and drops his other hand to your pussy. He has the perfect vantage point to get exactly on your clit. It's unlike any sensation you’ve felt. A lightning bolt in your pelvis, more pain than pleasure. You yelp, leaning forward, and closing your legs tight enough to trap Damia. Whether it be to maintain the stimulation or quell its intensity, you do not know.

He follows, so you’re still chest to back. Even with his hands immobilized, Damia can still make tiny motions against your clit. Finally reduced to an animal, you hiss and kick the blanket off the bed as energy tightens around your hips.

“Stellina, relax,” he commands. You cross your knees and squeeze tighter, instead, rubbing your legs together to increase the stimulation. Pleasure it is, then. Your body had decided. With a tremendous exhale you release him, sitting upright. Damia continues to pay attention to your clit. His fingers curl towards your belly button again, internally. It’s not even distinctly enjoyable, just powerful and orgasmic. Could a person be so turned on that they couldn't feel pleasure?

Watching Damia’s hands becomes too visceral, so you lean your head back onto his shoulder and trust his skill set. Meanwhile, one of your fists is colliding with the fitted sheet and the other has found its way to gripping Damia’s thigh, sliding on the fabric of his pajama pants. This does absolutely nothing to anchor you amidst the stimulation. It only adds to the reservoirs of energy that you’ll be forced to externalize, whose pressure is mounted by Dami’s insistent clitorial stimulation. You’re reduced to damn near drowning in a sensation that can only be called So Good It Hurts.

“So close, but I can’t….I can’t, my – mm ah.” Damia switches his legs from being outside yours to inside. When your body tries to cramp down, he keeps you spread open and continues pleasuring you. The arm responsible for internal stimulation wraps around your ribs and holds you close, so every inch of your naked back is pressed to Damia’s.

“Take your time,” he murmurs. Damia’s hold you secure, left hand brushing his fingertips across your erect nipple. A troubled whine is your best attempt at communicating that you don’t want to take your time. Instead, Damia pinches your nipple, twists, and pulls. Finally, you’re submerged in orgasam and it doesn’t feel like drowning at all. It feels like breaking the surface. 

While cumming, you tense so hard it turns into convulsions. Then you nearly outright scream.

“Yes, sweetheart, be as loud as you want,” he encourages. This was so the opposite of teenage boys, shushing you because their parents might hear. Damiano curled forward when you did, relaxed back with a sigh when you did, but his finger on your clit never stopped.

“Uh ah, oh my god. Wha –’” gasp. “What you, are you doing?” Damia chuckles in your ear and lets go of your waist. He reaches into the drawer and pulls out a magenta vibrator. It's unintimidating, only about four inches long.

“Keeping momentum.” Damia replaces his pointer finger with the head of the toy, which was still turned off. “Still a yes? Are you still sure?”

“Mm, mhm.” The surface of the vibrator was so smooth and the material almost soft. It must be really high grade silicone. You nod, still struggling to catch your breath. 

“I need a –”

“Yes!” you exclaim, interrupting him. Even so, when you check on Damia, it's clear he’s beating himself up again. Reconfirming consent had pulled his mind away elsewhere and finding the right words with a throbbing pussy was challenging. 

“Hey, I said yes to doing this to you.” He returns his focus with a tortured smile.

“I know sweetheart, your enthusiasm is noted.”  

“So why aren’t you here?” At first, Damia is preparing a counterpoint, but then he’s just genuinely shocked. “Get out of your own head. Be with me,” you huff. His ministrations between your legs briefly falter and you fear the worst, but his pointer and middle fingers return. You hear a barely audible click. The vibrator turns on with a quiet buzzing sound. 

“I assume you’ve never used a sex toy before, and the first time can be really powerful.” 

“Never,” you whisper. 

“So we’re gonna do a lot of talking. This is the lowest setting.” The vibrator hovers in the air, creating unbearable suspense. “This is how it feels,” he narrates. Instead of applying the toy to your clit, Damia brings it to your lower stomach. You tense from the novelty of the sensation, but after that passes, it's really gentle. He moves it back and forth, then further down, onto your pubic mound. 

“I’m okay, keep going.” Finally, he brings the silicone head against your clit, making clockwise motions. It’s like the normal pangs of pleasure one gets from clitoral stimulation, but less powerful, and on a much greater scale. He switches to counterclockwise rotations, stimulating the nerves in the opposite direction.

“One or two?” he murmurs.

“One, please,” you pant. The “please” makes his cock jump and Damia pretends that you can’t feel it, even as the sensation makes you grin. He tries stationary and making smaller circles, as well as moving vertically and horizontally. After each, he checks in for your preference. Discerning what felt best was difficult, because all the sensations were incredible. 

“Higher.” The buzz goes up in pitch and you jump as soon as it touches you. “Christ,” you pant.

“Do you wanna go back down or be gradual on this setting?” He’s already adjusted it back to the lowest setting.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, breathless.

“You don’t know if you want to continue?” 

“Ugh no,” you groan, with an eye roll. “I don’t know how to cum twice. It feels like I’m full of, like, lightning or something.” 

“Full of lightning sounds like you’re about to cum.” Damia turns the vibrator back up a notch and you both want to thank him perfusing and curse him out.

“No, it’s barely been, unhh…we were trying stuff and – oh my fuck.” This orgasam felt more challanging than the last one. 

“The longer you touch yourself, the more blood flows to that area. So it actually gets more sensitive over time, which makes it easier to cum.”

“Momentum,” you gasp.

“Yes. I’ve been stimulating your clit continuously which certainly isn’t a chore with someone so god damn responsive,” he growls. That tone of voice belonged to a part of Damia that he’d never allowed you to see before. You run towards it with open arms.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you how much of a greedy piece of shit I am for taking these first times all for myself?”

“God, yes.” Your chest heaves as it struggles to adequately oxygenate your body. “My nipples,” you beg. Damia brings his left hand up to your neglected breast. It's rougher than you expected. He digs his blunt fingernails in while twisting. Then flicks the hardened nipple upon releasing and pinches it very firmly. You let your head fall back. Gravity is gone and things feel too floaty to hold yourself upright. He’s so solid behind you, watching every reaction.

Somehow, you’re able to meet his eyes and now Damia can’t look elsewhere. Locked in, he has to watch you cum. He aches as your eyes fall closed and your mouth open. Damia can feel your hands clawing at him and he manages to find your right and holds securely. It's your face that makes it possible to live with himself: peace, bliss. How amoral could it be? How disgusting could he be if he gave you this?

When you cum everything tenses with a vengeance, but the release is quicker and more profound. You see twinkling sparkles against the black backdrop of your closed eyelids. Those wells of nervous energy are as empty as they’ve been in years. It's like you can breathe for the first time, except you can’t breathe at all. The stimulation is gone, but your clit still beats with your heart’s frantic rhythm.

“Catch your breath, sweetheart. You’re okay.” Every effort comes out as a gasp. Damia wraps both arms around you, and shimmy’s down so he’s on the mattress. Laying naked on his bare chest, in his bed, as he calms you down from orgasam doesn’t even seem real. This moment belongs in your fantasy life and the cognitive dissonance is intense.

“Inhale, exhale,” he chants, rubbing your back. “Inhale, exhale,” is timed with his own breathing, which raises and lowers your head. Realizing that he’ll misconstrue this as a trauma reaction, you are very studious in evening out your breathing. 

“I’m really not having a panic attack. It was so good that I actually saw stars, I swear to god!” Damia snorts and you’re relieved not to find him amidst a moral crisis. 

“You saw stars because you hold your breath when you cum,” he laughs. “We would have kept going if I wasn’t worried about you passing out.” 

“Oh…” You're unsure whether to feel embarrassed about this subconscious habit. It had cost you orgsams from Damia, so the automatic response is vehement hatred. Judging his reaction while unable to see his expression was impossible, so you sit up and straddle his torso.

“Don’t worry, it’s common,” Damia chuckles and casually rubs your flank, face unchanging. Was it subconscious? Was it just meant to be a casual, comforting gesture between lovers?

“What should I do?” you manage to say.

“Well it can be a stress thing," he replies, thoughtfully. “You can also practice by yourself. The right partner might also be really helpful.” Your expression gives you away and Damia is backpedaling before you’ve said a word. “No! No, absolutely not. This is never happening again,” he declares with finality. Placing both hands on your hips, Damiano guides you off of his lap and to the edge of the bed. You stand with your eyes stinging from rejection.

“You do know that I don’t expect you to be my boyfriend or some shit? I’m attracted to you, you’re attracted to me. I am more than capable of discretion. We’re both consenting adults, but you make it into this exhausting moral quandary.”  He’s wide-eyed and taken aback, even sitting upright to conversate.

“I didn’t recognize that you were such a realist,” Damia admits, astonished. “But to be clear, for me this is some exhausting moral quandary, and you are far too intelligent for me to explain why.” 

“I don’t want some high school boy who doesn’t know his herpes status or some college guy that's gonna treat me like I’m disposable,” you counter, using Damiano’s own words against him.

“Y/n.” he holds his hand up. “Your friend’s father is not the alternative.” There's nothing to say, because you’re both right. For a moment you just stare while tension wraps a hand around each throat.

“It’s absurd for me to have any expectations of you. I apologize and you’ve been so…” you search for the least controversial adjective, “generous.”

“It's nice to see you act your age for once, actually,” he huffs. The man that had growled in your ear and watched your pussy leave a wet spot on the bedding was gone. To fill his place, a new iteration of Damia had been created for your benefit alone. He was a nurturer who didn’t entertain false pretenses about this connection being normal. How many mirages could Damiano make before forgetting how to experience his own thoughts and feelings altogether?

“You understand that I can’t let you leave this room thinking that this is going to happen again?”

“Yes,” you reply in monotone. 

“Alright.” He stands with a groan and picks your bra, underwear, and miniskirt off of the floor. In the meantime you retrieve your shirt from the otherside of the bedroom and pull it on. It's strange how a person can go from having three fingers inside to avoiding your hands touching as he passes clothes over. A hint of magenta in your peripheral vision catches your attention. The vibrator still lay in the sheets, undisturbed by this excruciating turn of events.

“Are you still good?”

“Yeah.” No. Once your skirt is back on, Damia walks you through the doorway. After such intense intimacy, any level of personal space feels awkward. You’re not expecting him to pull you into a hug, so much so that your arms hang by your sides. He strokes your back with a steady, warm hand, wrinkling the thin fabric while pressing his lips to your scalp. You’re aware that this embrace is Damiano’s way of communicating his feelings, but you haven’t a fucking clue what he’s saying. 

It was unlike any hug you’d received from an adult man, another first Damia was taking from you, but this time he didn’t realize it. Finally, you embrace him back and press your face to his bare chest. His skin smells delicious as always, especially after sweating a little. Damia wraps his arms tighter, hand moving to rub back and forth across your shoulder blades. He kisses your head again. 

This is an emotion you didn’t have a name for: so safe that the urge to cry abates. Simultaneously, that very same feeling makes you tear up because it's safe to cry. Was this the hug you were missing throughout your childhood? Was this how a male parental figure was supposed to make you feel? Your unaffectionate father had left you no frame of reference. 

“Okay, good night.” When he pulls back, you can’t decide if you want to kiss him. That consideration quickly becomes mute, because Damia won’t look at you. Instead, he just closes the bedroom door in your face.

Notes: Sorry. 🤧 (You can now opt out of age gap fics by resubmitting your preferences to my taglist) I was unable to tag people for two months so you probably missed the last installment, which can be read here.

- XOXO Eden

Masterlist

Get on my Taglist!

 @bieberhoodforever @blackberryblossom @butkutee @cuzimitaliano @elvirabelle  @iamtashaquinn @icarodamiano @idyllicbutterfly @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @mortyandem  @the-chaotic-cow  @wasteddoubts @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia   @azertyhug @biancathecool @bohemianrainbow @daisy0gf @dustyinkpages @katyldamusic @minnietmouse @obiw4n @persona1read1ng@harryssshouseee  @gr8rainbowpunk @hiraetheral  @iosonoarina@que--sera--sera @stardustingold @teenyweenynightghost   @softmullet @solacestyles @thegeminisgirl @bobfood  @slavicgoddess13 @l0standn0tf0und

[abiiors]

Can i request more Damiano David angst please? 😅🥺

Hey, thanks for the ask! I hope you like it :)

Consolation Prize // D.D.

Damiano David x Reader

Warnings: Minors dni, it’s an FWB situation so it’s 18+, he’s a bit of an asshole in this one. Also just angst with no happy ending.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: I didn’t mean to rhyme the last lines but I’m happy about the coincidence. Reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated :)

Masterlist

There’s a voice in your head screaming at you to not do it. Yet as another knock sounds at the door, your feet carry you involuntarily. You know who it is, there’s no need to peep through the keyhole but you can’t resist it. You can’t resist taking this one glimpse at him before he’s inevitably going to break your heart again. 

‘Hi,’ you greet as you open to door. ‘Come in.’

This has become routine at this point—Damiano texts “U up?”. You tell yourself to ignore the message, to blow him off with some excuse, yet every single time you cave just as the second text comes in. 

‘Hey, baby,’ he greets in return, presses a rough kiss on your mouth. 

You used to dream of these kisses, dream of his mouth on every single inch of your body. You even imagined the gentleness of them once. But whatever this is—being fuck buddies, friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it—this has slowly sucked the life out of those dreams. 

Yet you can’t stop going back to him. 

‘You’re thinking about something,’ he frowns and for a moment his voice is laced with genuine concern. ‘Are you not in the mood? You know we can always reschedule this,’ he points between the two of you. 

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in your chest and you have to actually turn around to get a hold of yourself. Reschedule this as if it’s just another appointment; clinical and unavoidable. 

‘No no,’ you smile at him and hope he doesn’t notice your dead eyes. ‘Work has been a bit stressful lately, that’s all.’ 

It’s an easy lie and you know he’ll never question it. He hardly knows what you do for work, there’s a one-in-a-million chance he’ll actually want to know what’s stressing you out at your job. 

‘Well then,’ he grins, ‘you know what’s good for stress.’

And that’s how it starts this time. He trails kisses down your neck, makes his way down to your cleavage and tries to leave a few hickeys there. You close your eyes and imagine a different reality—one where he mumbles I love you after each kiss, one where he tells you how obsessed he is with you, how he can’t keep his hands off you. One where he’s so gentle with you that you might as well be made of glass. 

But that’s not what this is. Damiano has always been very clear about what this is. 

You’ve got the motions of this memorised. You take each other’s clothes off; leave a trail of them to the bedroom. Despite the maelstrom of thoughts in your head, your body betrays you again and again. It always reacts to his touch, always craves more of him. It wants him never to let go.

But there’s always a ghost in the room; the spectre that is “the other woman”. He thinks you’re unaware of her but lately, it seems you’ve spent more time thinking about her than you’ve thinking about him. He longs for her, you long for him and yet you can’t let go.

Is she the other woman? A voice chides in your head and you fake a moan to cover up the gasp. 

Even when he’s buried inside you, you know you’re not the one he’s thinking about. You’re never the one he’s thinking about; it’s always her, it’s always been her. But he can’t get her, so his consolation prize is you. 

Even when his face is tucked in the crook of your neck, it’s her body he’s dreaming of. Only a fool wouldn’t notice how her name is always on the tip of his tongue, just fighting to get out. 

‘Dami?’ you ask once you lay side-by-side, panting and catching your breath, ‘will you stay the night?’

His eyes widen a bit and then he laughs awkwardly. ‘You know I can’t, baby. I’ve got, uh…Thomas wants to show me something.’

‘Of course,’ you smile. 

It’s always Thomas or Ethan or Vic, it’s never you though. He makes a move to get out of bed and suddenly you’re hit with a barrel of conflicting feelings. 

You want him gone. You want to beg him to stay. You never want to see him ever again. You want to wake up next to him every day. 

As he starts to get dressed, you grab the robe that’s hanging on the bedpost. This is the part you dread the most—the aftermath. You try not to seem too eager for him to get out. If he lingers even just a little…

‘That was fun,’ he smiles and you can already feel the awkwardness radiating off of him. None of you knows how to say goodbye yet your reasons for it could not be more different from each other. You hold the door open for him, smile a tight-lipped smile, go along with the motions when he gives you a goodbye kiss. 

He takes two steps towards the lift, then stops and turns around abruptly. This is it, you think, he’s reconsidered. He wants to stay. 

‘Can I see you again tomorrow?’ he asks and your heart dies a gruesome death for the millionth time. 

Just set me free, you want to scream at him, why won’t you just set me free? Instead, you nod and force a smile. 

‘Tomorrow works for me.’

[desiderium333]

Hello, this is me finally rising from the dead after two years.

Due to some personal issues I faced over those 2 years I've decided that now might be the time to continue with this little project of mine.

I am aware that not that much people find Måneskin relevant but I still want to pursue my love and passion for writing via this.

I hope yall understand and will continue to support and follow me and my work.

I shall soon upload my story "For your love" along the taglist and my masterlist.

[covbrk]

Hi! First time posting anything here, other than the reposts i have. I have thought about finally start writing fan fictions, but there’s this one thingy. I wanted to get back into roleplaying on instagram and i was wondering if someone does as well and if they would want to roleplay there ! I promise to start posting stuff here during my summer break that starts in july.

[cuzimitaliano]

SOHH Official Announcement

Almost a year ago, an idea sprouted in my head. My first multi-chapter Måneskin fanfic. I had an outline ready, I had scenes planned out, everything. But it eventually dropped off. I became busy with softball and end of year studies along with a bunch of crap thrown on my reputation. I fell out of love with Måneskin and resented them. The thought of them revolted me. This was and is something extremely hard for me to admit. I still loved them, deep down inside, but because I held them so close to me and my friend group, I hated how my mind connected the band to them after they left me. I'm not even joking on that. I wrote for one of my memoirs "Relating bands to people I know is something that hurt when my friends left. Each member of Maneskin was a person in my friend group and even though they are a great band, I can’t seem to look at them the same." But with the announcement of Rush! on Halloween, I fell back in love with Må. I re-listened to all of the band's albums and couldn't wait for Rush!. All the love that was lost over the few months I ignored them came flooding back to me. And now I re-found my love for my fanfiction idea. And this is the announcement.

Presenting Strings Of Her Heart, a Måneskin fanfiction.

First chapter out February 14th, 2023. <3

[sassy-sofia]

Your Ocean

Pairing: Thomas x Damiano

Description: “He had never really learned how to just like something. He has always had to go in head first, surrounding himself in it, changing himself for it, letting it consume him.”

Thomas becomes infatuated by a mysterious man after noticing him outside of his campus. Letting curiosity get the best of him, he quickly sets on the path to learn who he is, however, some people are best to admire from afar.

Wordcount: 81k (complete)

Chapters: 19/19

TW: mental health, homophobia, substance abuse, smut

Additional tags on AO3

[ami--gami]

Summary:

This isn’t a suicide note, I’m not killing myself. I just can’t do this. I do want to kill myself, it’s so difficult some days, but I’m not going to. This is the alternative. I don’t want to die, but I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to die, even though sometimes it feels like the only option.

I love all of you, Damiano.

Or

Damiano runs away and leaves only a note behind. A look into how much it affects Vic, Thomas and Ethan.

New fic dropped on Ao3

[writersblockiskillingme]

Can you please do a Damiano fell in love with his long time friend/band mate (reader) who is the backup singer (bc their voices complement each others perfectly) and writes a song about her and sings it to her on stage, confessing his love. (the other band mates know abt it).

I’m in my delusional era

Only Angel | Damiano David

Pairing: Damiano David x fem!reader (Måneskin bandmate)

Summary: You were in love with him for a very long time, but you didn't know that he loved you back. Until he decided to do something about it.

Warning/s: pet name (angel), just a little bit of good all angst, smut +18, degradation, teasing, prising, dom/sub, few curse words, mentions of alcohol and weed, cigarettes, mentions of one night stands, grammar and spelling mistakes, Google translated Italian (sorry, please tell me in the comments if I made any mistakes so I can fix them)

Author's note: This one's been a long time coming, but enjoy!

I saw this angel

I really saw an angel

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see

That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me

I'm just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth

And there's nothing I can do about it

Damiano could still remember the first time he met her.

She was the first singer that Måneskin (Back then just Victoria and Thomas) recruited for the band. He could remember it as if it was yesterday.

His hands were sweating as hell as he walked through the hallway of a "made up", improved studio that belongs to the future, back-then-still-in-making, rock band Måneskin. He remembered how nervous he was, but that nervousness compared to the one he experienced as he walked into the studio was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a big deal at all.

As he reached his stop, he looked up and saw a guy with blonde hair messing with his guitar, and he saw a blonde haired girl standing next to him, watching him. They didn't notice him just yet.

Damiano turned his head away from them and decided to focus his gaze on a girl sitting in a chair with a pen and journal in her hands, ashtray sitting on the armrest of the chair. She was lightly gripping the pen as she wrote and crossed and scrambled the words on a piece of paper in the journal. Her (h/l) (h/c) covered her eyes slightly. He could clearly see her red lips moving, even tho she had a half finished cigarette in her mouth. She was probably mumbling the word of the, what was probably, a song she was writing.

She was mumbling so quietly, but somehow he could still hear her voice. It was beautiful, he felt like he was falling into a trans. He felt himself freezing like a deer in headlights when he saw her look up at him.

Her face steached into a smile, cigarette no longer lingering on her lips as she reached out and placed it on an ashtray. Her (e/c) shining like the sun, her hair no longer covering them from him. She stood up and started to walk up to him. That's the moment when Vic and Thomas noticed him, too.

He noticed the grace she was carrying herself with. It was as if she was floating. It was a sight to behold for sure.

"Ciao! Tu devi essere Damiano David." [Hi! You must be Damiano David.] She said and he felt like his breath was knocked out of his lungs when he heard her angelic voice speak to him.

"SÌ. Quello... sono io." [Yes. That's me.] He stuttered for a bit and that shocked him to his core. He never stuttered before, it felt weird. He didn't like that.

"Sorprendente. Io sono (Y/N) e loro sono Thomas e Victoria." [Amazing. I'm (Y/N) and this is Thomas and Victoria.] She introduced herself, Thomas and Vic.

And so, after a few quick hellos were exchanged, they pulled him in front of the mic and they preformed one song with him and one where he had to sing alone. It turned out that (Y/N) and he sing together perfectly. Their voices simply sound so good together. However, since that day something followed Damiano. Something that he couldn't quite place for a little bit.

Broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door

I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short

But I think that's what I like about it

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

Over the years Damiano and (Y/N) started to get closer and closer to each other.

At first it was innocent, truly. The two of them would talk with each other more than they would with Vic, Thomas or Ethan. Everyone soon noticed how close they were. They started to become very good friends. They had a lot of thing in common. They liked the same music, the same artists, everything! They somehow never ran out of topics to have a conversation about. It was amazing, really.

They would go out to get coffee, pizza, they went to bars and local parties together. They would come to each other's houses and just watch TV and get drunk or, sometimes even, high. They would drink some shitty wine that they would find in some shitty liquor store and would fall asleep on top of each other on the couch.

They would write and sing songs with each other. They liked each other's voices, but most of all, they liked how they sounded together. A match made in heaven, indeed.

However, over the years something changed. As they grew, the band did, too and so did their feelings for one another. Damiano watched everything she did whenever she was in his presence. He practically adored the ground she was walking on. It was amazing to experience. And to watch, too.

Vic was the first one to notice, of course. She would easily notice the longing glances that they would send each other while they thought that nobody was looking. She tried to talk to them about it. They would just brush it off.

"She is just my best friend, come on, Vic!"

"He's just a friend to me. Nothing more!"

Of course, Vic wasn't stupid, and neither were Thomas and Ethan. They soon figured what was up, too. The three musicians really tried everything in their power to get them to know what the other was feeling, but it felt like it was impossible to do that.

The problem was that Damiano and (Y/N) thought that the other didn't like them like that. And so from one problem, another one was born.

One night stands.

They both thought that if they see other people they could push their feelings away. However, when did that work out?

Damiano could still remember it. He walked down the hallway of the hotel that they were staying in because of their performance in New York. He watched her and some random guy practically eat each other's faces as she started to push him into her hotel room.

The last thing that he saw were the stains of red lipstick before he started doing it two.

I must admit I thought I'd like to make you mine

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

And there's nothing we can do about it

Damiano had officially had enough. Watching her bringing guy after guy in her hotel room, him bringing girl after girl. It was too much. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't just stand aside as he watched and heard everything those guys did when it should be him doing it to his angel.

So one night he gathered his courage and knocked on her door so hard he almost got splinters in his knuckles from the wooden door. The moment she opened the door he spilled his feelings to her and so this is how they ended up there.

Damiano was quick to notice a bruise in the corner of her neck. Her pathetic attempt to cover it with her hair was not doing it. He felt anger fill his body to the brim. He knew that he had no reason to be angry, she wasn't his. Perhaps that was what angered him.

"You seem angry." (Y/N) was quick to point it out, her face forming a concerned look. "Why are you mad?"

"I'm not mad." Damiano spat out, proving her point. "I just think that you can choose better people to share spit with, angel. That's all."

"Excuse me?!" (Y/N) couldn't help but to yell in his face in the middle of the hallway. "What the hell is wrong with you, Damiano?"

"Was it worth it?" He asked her, his voice dangerously low. It send shivers down her spine.

"Is you hating me right now your new personality trait?"

She knew that that wasn't justified. She knew how bold of her that was. She knew that he didn't actually hate her, at least she hoped that he didn't. The truth was that she grew nervous under his gaze. His gaze, his tone, sudden realization of what he was talking about... it made her nervous as hell. She didn't know what to do.

"Was it worth it?" He kept his voice low and she knew that she couldn't avoid the topic any longer as much as she wanted to.

"I don't know what to say, Damiano."

"Oh, don't bullshit me, (Y/N)!" Damiano's voice rang in the hallway of the huge hotel in the middle of New York. He didn't give a flying fuck that it was night. That her "neighbors" were probably asleep. He didn't care about anything but his angel.

"Watcing you with so many guys who can't give you what I can... it draw me crazy." He finally confessed as he watched her in science of the hallway, frozen, confused. "You still don't get it, do you? It's because I love you."

"Now I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't feel the same way." Damiano told her as he pinned her against the door of her bedroom. Her breath getting stuck in her throat as she listened to his rough voice speak. "Just then I will leave you alone."

"I can't." She whispered, feeling so small compared to him right now.

"And why is that, angel."

"Because... I'm not even gonna lie, I'm just so fucking obsessed with you, you have no idea."

That's all he needed.

Told it to her brother and she told it to me

That she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see

When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets

And there's nothing she can do about it

Hey, hey

His lips felt so familiar yet so unknown to her. His breathing had become more strained.

"Damn it all to hell, if I don't get to have you tonight then I'm never going to be able to have you."

"Who says it has to be that way." (Y/N) said as she gasped in pleasure as he started to suck the skin on her neck.

His muscles tensed with every thrust. She finally allowed herself to sink into the mattress, into her pillow. She finally allowed herself to have him and for him to have her. She felt his hands flattering against her spine as he drew her closer to him as if that was physically possible.

"Arch your back for me, angel."

She felt herself gasping in pleasure as she did what he asked her to do. It was hard for him to contain his own sounds, too, as he pumped his thick throbbing cock into her at a constant pace.

"Please..." she was getting overwhelmed with him continuously hitting the right spot deep inside of her.

He grabbed her ankles and lifted her ankles to place them around his waist. She was practically screaming as he continued to split her wet pussy at rapid speed. She continued to shudder as he sped up his pace.

"Bet you they don't make you sound like that, do they, angel?"

"Ah- I-"

"Do they!?"

"NOO!" She barely gasped. "They don't... only you can do- ahh- this to mee!"

She openly moaned, screaming as Damiano's cock started swelling and stretching her tight pussy even more then before. And as her orgasm hit, she began to cry. He didn't care, he continued to thrust repeatedly, no signs of stopping or at least slowing down.

"I want you to remember everything fucking seconds of this."

She was overstimulated, but the tears of pleasure continued to flow.

He suddenly pulled out, erotic sound of cum mixed together filled the deafening silence in her room. He's fiery kisses started to trail down to her soaked pussy. Soon he started to suck her clit, but he moved away when he felt your hands on his head. He removed his tongue as he repositioned himself near your ass.

"Mhh!" (Y/N) tried to gain her voice back so she could speak again. "Don't! Too much!"

"Shhh... my beautiful angel." He cooed to her. "I'm sure that you've got one more in you. Will you be a good little angel and take what I have to give you?" His words were mocking and teasing at the same time as she nodded her head as much as she could before she pushed herself further into her pillow.

"Good girl."

He slowly began to enter her again, he was lubricated by her dripping juices. The thrusts began to increase again as she screamed his name, shaking. However, soon she found herself moving to meet his rough, pleasurable thrusts, which synchronized.

She was drowning in pleasure, she couldn't comprehend what was happening anymore. However she knew one thing, every time that fat cock hit her cervix, she got closer and closer to her much needed release.

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

The stadium was big. The light were truly blinging (Y/N). The adrenaline was pumping through your veins. She was so happy, so full of euphoria even tho her throat felt so sore from all the singing and her muscles were hurting her.

On the other hand Damiano felt like he was going to faint. Yes, he was euphoric and happy, too. He was so happy and excited for the even bigger future of Måneskin, but he felt nervous.

For years he was in love with this girl. He always gave his best to express it as best as he possibly could. But nothing felt good enough. His angel deserved the world, even more so. He loved her so much the fraze "to the moon and back" simply couldn't cut it.

So he decided to express his love for her in a way that he did best. He wrote her a song. And so with a deep breath, and Victoria's pep talk before he went on the stage, he stepped forward.

"How are we feeling tonight, LA!?" Damiano shouted and his shout was followed by screaming and clapping of the fans.

"So tonight you are going to hear a song you have never heard before!! You excited!!??"

Damiano had to cover his ears a little because the screaming of the fans became a little bit too much. Still he found himself laughing with excitement. Like he always did. He looked a little to the side where (Y/N) was standing so he could take a little peak at her face. Confused was not a good enough word to explain the look on her face when she heard what Damiano had said and Vic, Thomas nor Ethan didn't say anything. He wrote a song? Without me? (Y/N) though to herself.

"This song I will sing alone." Damiano said and (Y/N) got even more confused.

"You see, I met this girl a long time ago and I felt like I loved her the moment I saw her. I wanted to express my love to her and to the entire world so I wrote this song for her." Damiano continued.

The crowd was already loosing their minds as Damiano stepped took the microphone form it's stand, but when Damiano said the next words and started singing all hell broke loose.

"This song is for you, (Y/N). My only angel."

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

My-my-my only angel

->

->

->

TAGLIST

@opal-rugger

[ale-arro]

ok i was resistant to checking out damiano david's solo stuff but i fear he has written The aro angst song of all time with born with a broken heart

[writingmaneskin]

Timezone - A Damiano David Story

Pairings: Damiano David x Reader

Description: An imaginary behind the scenes of how Damiano wrote Timezone.

Contains: angst and fluff (but mostly fluff), pining

Words: 1.2k

This was a request.

THE MAIN MASTERLIST

kofi || join the taglist || send a request || chaoticallie

taglist: @queendorkula @oro-e-diamanti @moonlight-simp @maneskings @iosonoarina @unaballerinascalza @hiraetheral, @homesicam, @ilwiwbysmv @bieberhoodforever @vita-thrasher @katyldamusic @ethaneskin @theimpossiblehologramtree @8iunie @dubist-immerinmeinengedanken @butkutee @sarcastic-sourwolf @dpaccione @elvirabelle @cuzimitaliano @daddydamiano @shehaddreamstoo @iamtashaquinn @alexxavicry @inloveppp @tnu-ree @bigsimpsimp @ccweasley @soficide

Damiano knew that his place wasn’t LA. There was nothing attractive about the people or the circumstances there - it would always be just work for him. Just work, meetings and parties that exposed people for who they weren’t. 

The band had to record the album which meant time away from home, time away from you.

You, who hadn’t chosen this busy glitz and glam life. You, who had chosen him despite all of it.

He picked up the phone, not paying attention at all to what time it would be at home.

“Hey you.” Your voice carried the sleepiness that always melted him.

“Cazzo, I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“Sleep is overrated anyway, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m homesick. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, tesoro.” 

“Will you stay with me for a little bit?” He pleaded.

“As long as you need me to.” You propped the phone against the pillow on his side of the bed and watched him as he opened the notebook again.

“How is writing coming along?”

“It’s hard. We wrote some songs about the foolishness going on here but there are missing pieces that I can’t quite figure out.”

“What do the others think?”

“We’re all restless and I’ve acquired a few nicknames in the process, but I don’t care about it. I just.. I want to finish this project so we can start putting it together because we don’t need to be here to do that.”

“The sooner you finish it, the sooner you can come home, yes?”

“I would come home right now if I could.” 

“I know, tesoro. I miss you so much.”

You tried to hide the tears that came to your eyes.

“I will be there before you know it.” He promised.

“I know. I am counting on it.”

“I know. Try to go back to sleep.”

“Stay with me, please?” It was your turn to plead. 

“I will. I will work quietly while you sleep.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**

You fell asleep, the comfort of his presence despite the distance was tangible.

“What are you doing?” Thomas asked, coming outside for a smoke while Damiano alternated between glancing at the phone and scribbling fragments of lyrics in the notebook.

Damiano shushed him and pointed at the phone.

“Sorry.” Thomas raised his arms.

“I’m writing.” Damiano whispered. 

“Do you need anything?”

“Yes. But we’ll talk about it later.”

“Okay, you know what to do.” Thomas winked at him and distanced himself, giving the two of you space.

**

You woke up and saw that the call had ended. 

“Buongiorno, thank you for keeping me company. When can we talk again?” You wrote to Damiano.

“Buongiorno amore. Did you sleep well?”

“I did. It could only have been better if you were physically here.”

“We’ll make up for lost times, I promise. I have a busy evening and we’ll likely work well into the night here so I’ll text you when I can, okay? Keep me updated. I love you so much.”

“I love you too and don’t work yourself into the ground. I need you alive and well with me.”

“I promise.”

**

You didn’t think much of it - he was there on a work trip after all, it was understandable that he couldn’t be on the phone all the time, so you went about your day - going to work, meeting up with a friend for a coffee after work, buying some groceries on the way home.

You unlocked the apartment and went in, only to find a second pair of shoes - shoes you knew very well, next to the door, in their usual place.

Your heart started racing.

“You’re back!” Damiano exclaimed, sweeping you off your feet and pressing you close to himself.

The tears started flowing and you held him tightly, not quite believing that he was in fact there.

“You’re here?” You kept running your fingers through his hair. He held you up for a little while before pulling away slightly only to give you a kiss.

“I snuck away under the excuse that I need some sleep.” He gently wiped your face and kissed you again and again.

“When do you have to go back?” You already dreaded having to let him go.

“Very soon but I needed this. I needed you. I need you.” He kissed you again.

“I need you too.” 

His phone wouldn’t stop ringing no matter how much he tried to ignore it. It was alternating between calls and texts and other notifications coming in and in that moment, he wanted to throw it out.

“You can’t ice them out. Especially since you didn’t tell them that you’d be leaving. They could think that you’ve been kidnapped.”

“They will burst our bubble.”

“No, they will not. You know you have to go back, just don’t stress out our friends unnecessarily. Please.”

He picked up the phone on what looked like Ethan’s fiftieth call.

“Dam? Where are you? Are you okay? Do you want us to pick you up? Did something happen?” 

“Hi. I am fine, I snuck away and came home. I’m sorry for vanishing and ghosting and just… keeping you all out of the loop but I needed to come home.”

A moment of silence.

“Is Y/N okay?”

“Y/N is good. I just needed to come home and feel like I am home even if it’s for a few moments. I’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise and I’ll make it up to you guys for stressing you out, I just needed this.”

“You have nothing to make up for. Just don’t run away next time and give us a heads up.” Vic shouted from the side.

“You could make it up to us with some pasta.” Thomas added, trying to lighten the situation.

“We’ll cover for you for as long as we can, do what needs to be done and we’ll see you soon.” Ethan added before hanging up.

**

Each step leading him away from you felt heavier and heavier. But he had to do this - he had to go back and finish this album so the next time he would be back he would be able to stay for longer.

You walked with him in the airport for as long as you could, trying not to cry the whole time, knowing that the tears would make it even harder for him to leave.

“It’s not worth it.” He spoke quietly, making sure that only you would hear.

“It is. It’s your dream and that makes it worth it.”

“Dreams are just that. You are real.”

“I miss you and I will miss you again and this distance is horrible and I hate it when we are not together but I will not trade for anything in the world the spark in your eyes or the joy that I see when you are doing what you love most and sharing your art with the world. And there is a lot you have not yet shared with the world, Damiano David.”

You carefully wiped the tears that came to his eyes and kissed him again.

“Be safe for me and take good care of yourself. We’ll be back together before you know it.” You kissed him very gently.

“I love you.” He kissed you again and again before going to the security line.

Less than a week later, right as you were going to bed a text came from him, with an audio file and the words - for you, tesoro.

Only thing that keeps us apart Is a different timezone

[filthforfriends]

Bonus Chapter

Alpha!Damiano Omegaverse

Word count: 9.6k

Read the actual fic on my Masterlist!

You’d missed the first bus after school and were now running almost half an hour late. It’s not that Damiano would leave the amphitheater without you, but you texted him last minute. So last minute that he wouldn’t even get the message until after practice. Your heart only sank further when the parking lot came into view and you saw how few cars were left. He was probably hungry and bored out of his mind so you jog the rest of the way.

His car isn’t in the lot. That can’t be right, so you go the double check up close. 

Where are you?

Damiano attended these practices like clock-work. You mosey towards the field in case someone can tell you if Dami went home early and why. Star quickly walks past you, giving a tight-lipped smile and a small wave, indicating that he very much wasn’t feeling social. From inside the structure, a familiar voice you can’t place calls you over.

“Y/n, Dam is over here!” You feel sick while breaking into a run, but when you round the corner, the only people on the field are Julio and Nikolai. They’re bent over cackling at your concern, hands propped just above their knees. Immediately you see red.

“Weren’t you banned from the team?” You try to look down on them from a distance, even though they’re both taller than you.

“I’m not banned from the amphitheater. I just can’t use it when Romero has it booked for practice.” Julio spits back in venomous tones, meanwhile Nikolai is texting someone amidst snide chuckles. It’s then that you remember Damiano has his hearing with the collegiate board right now. He’s on the other side of town.

“Whatever.” You turn to leave, taking out your own phone to ask Clio for a ride.

“Oh and she gives up so easy!” Nikolai is goading you like you’re some young alpha, hell bent on proving herself. Omegas aren’t fighters. In fact, you can’t fight, and this knowledge plants a seed of fear in the pit of your stomach. Surely they didn’t plan to harm you and risk real consequences. You clutch your phone in your right hand and walk towards the exit.

“Not so invincible now, huh?”

“This is what happens when bitchy omegas don’t have their bitch-boy alphas to protect them.”

“Call me mediocre again. I fucking dare you.” The sound of Nikolia’s voice raises the hair on the back of your neck and you know you need to get out of here. When you speed up your pace, they follow, footsteps growing ever nearer as they jeer. 

“He hasn’t bred you yet, so there's still some hope of finding an alpha to put you in your place.” 

“I would give anything to see that,” yells Julio. The faster you walk, the quicker they follow, so you try to slow your pace and manage your racing heart. If you can just get to the parking lot you’ll be in plain view of houses and the skate park. Finding bystanders was a tactic embedded into your psych before primary school. You got to the cement hall that ran under the building and noticed someone coming towards you. 

In the shadows, you think you’re in luck; a bystander found you. His heavy work books click each step and then his face comes into view. It's the alpha that Damiano had to fend off three months ago. Turns out he went to Okoro Academy and hung around Romero after school, waiting for a vulnerable omega to victimize. 

“Hey, you made it!” calls Nikolai. His joy is a mockery of your fear, and you’re struggling to think straight. 

“Imagine my surprise when I found out my cousin Phoenix had been victimized by the same runt of the litter.” He grins when he says victim, enjoying the power trip and the irony. There’s no way to physically get out of this so you’re going to have to talk your way out. Fist fighting all three would be easier than making yourself demure and submissive. What do you want is too forceful, so you try to soften the sentiment.

“I don’t understand what you want me to do.” Phoenix breaks into maniacal laughter and the other two follow after a brief side eye. If they’re unsure about his actions that either means this front isn’t nearly as united as it looks or that you should be very scared.  

“I want corporal punishment so we can control upetty omegas that need to be fucking humbled and taught how to serve”

“And I don’t want mutants like Damiano to dirty the gene pool. He should be sterilized and kept away from the population.”

“How fucking dare you!?”

“Ah, there she is!” Julio says in a sing-song voice. He lunges at you, but it's a fake out, only a couple steps before he falls back, laughing cruelly. You’d tried to back up too fast and end up falling. Only one elbow was bleeding, but Julio’s eyes kept darting towards it. The contents of your book bag are strewn three feet down the hall. You crouch down while trying to clean it up, papers crumpled and haphazardly shoved inside. 

You’re so focused on looking at the ground that you don’t see Nikolai until his cleats come into view. Immediately, you straighten up like your spine is a titanium rod, eyes wide in fear at his proximity. Nikolai lunges at you too, so close you can see the storm in his irises. This time you fall hard, tripping over your bag and getting the wind knocked out of you when you land flat. At that point, all attempts at regulating go out the window while you struggle for a decent breath.

“Woah! Is she okay?” Julio is nervous and you stare at him with every ounce of panic and rage so this moment will haunt him, whatever happens to you. His eyes dart from one person to the next, but he never sustains a gaze.

“She’ll be fine. Maybe she should call her savior for help.” Nikolai cocks his head to the side and tries to put on a scowl. You still have your phone clenched in a fist and begin to type. But you stop yourself upon realizing that this was a trap. They know that Damiano will go scorched earth if your safety is on the line. Phoenix, Julio, and Nickolai probably think they can take him. Maybe they can and Damiano will destroy his body. Or, more likely he’ll destroy them. Either way Damiano will be excommunicated from society for his Alpha Dysregulation. Incriminating him was the whole point of this display of strength.

Forcing a deep breath, you bring your phone back to your side and stare at them willfully. Julio is the closest to breaking. He’s blanched and picking at his cuticles, clearly wishing he’s never volunteered to do this.

“I am not bait,” you spit, trying to back away. Their plan had failed and you were banking on them recognizing defeat. 

“Bitch,” Nikolai murmurs, spitting on your shoes and bowing his head. 

“See, I told you this wouldn’t work,” Phoenix finally speaks. His voice is monotone in a way that makes your skin crawl. It means that his friendliness three months ago was completely a mask. People who can mimic emotion so easily often lack empathy. It's all a performance for personal gain.

 You try to walk away but Pheonix blocks your path, stepping in front no matter where you divert. 

A quick glance over your shoulder shows that Julio and Nickolai are also unsure. When they notice you’re looking, both young alphas try to harden their expressions. Option one is getting past them and taking the next exit halfway down the field. Option two is avoiding Phoenix and bolting 15 feet. You decide on the second one and don’t even make it a full step before being shoved to the ground. You land on your fingers, rather than your left hand. Something pops, but not like a knuckle. At first, intense shooting pain moves all the way up your arm and then fiery throbbing pain settles in your hand. 

You’re shocked into silence, as is everyone else. When your body does register the injury, it’s trying to shut down to protect itself. To hide, to curl up, to become smaller, to become less noticeable, to limit points of vulnerability, to be silent, to survive. However, you can’t trust that Phoenix will leave you be. In fact, this act of wounding seems to stimulate him like nothing else has.   

Help

While the text goes through, you’re trying to share your location.

“Atta’ girl!” He shouts gleefully, thrilled his prey is finally doing something amusing. Phoenix rips your phone from your hands and throws it against the cement. It breaks into three pieces, battery skidding until it hits the wall.

“NO!” you scream, trying to scramble away and find a place to conceal yourself. The sound echoes within the tunnel, deafening.

“What the fuck, dude!” Julio screams in horror. Nikolai is disturbed, but he handles it slightly better.

“This wasn’t the plan! We were supposed to scare her, without touching her. Not break her phone!” A force pulls you backward and you realize it's Phoenix's hand on your hood.

“And you’re scared aren’t you?” he snarls. It must have been a combination of the yelling, the chase, the adrenaline, the control, and the sadism, because Phoenix has gone full alpha. His charcoal eyes are souless, the place where his pupil lay a swirling black hole. The tendons on his face and neck quiver like they’re about to tear through his skin. You’re running before you can see his teeth, and this time he lets you go. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You’ve disappeared from view quickly, hiding in the bushes below the field until your assailants leave. At this point, all there is to do is ride out the overwhelming instinct to cower.

“Oh, come on,” Phoenix rolls his eyes. 

“No, you’re not supposed to do that type of shit,” insists Julio. Purposely sending omegas into flight or fawn was a major social taboo. It forces both an acute stress response and dissociation which occasionally causes tragedies. Omegas accidently darting in front of cars or hours of unnavigable panic reaching the point of mental crisis. The instict to hunker down until the episode passed left sick people without medical care and little children with traumatized parents. Originally, alphas tormented omegas endlessly because they couldn’t fight back before expectations were set up to protect their well-being.

“We should hide her stuff so they can’t trace it back to us.” Nikolai recognizes the new leader and reassembles y/n’s backpack. 

“And when she tells Damiano?”

“He’ll flip out. Mission accomplished,” Phoenix shrugs his shoulders, casually. “It’s our word against his, so you know what’ll happen if someone breaks ranks.” He glowers at Julio to make the threat clear.

  “Yeah? And in the mean time he could fucking kill me!”

“So, what? You’re afraid of him now? Phoenix taunts. Nikolai has fallen silent, holding the backpack like it's a bomb.

“Oh my – we did this because he’s dangerous! As someone who had their nose broken by Dam in a single punch, I can attest to that! He shouldn’t be in the general population, thats the fucking point.”

“What he shouldn’t be is so full of himself,” mutters Nikolai. He walks off to find a place to hide the bag with his head hung. 

“And that is the fucking point. Alphas like him are what's wrong with society. They don’t obey the natural order.

“You’re out of your fucking mind.” Julio picks up his duffel and walks away.

“We reminded an omega of her place! You should be proud of that!” Phoenix yells after him.

***

“We’re just thrilled to have you officially back on the team, drive safe!” The chair of the collegiate board walked the David’s out to the parking lot with a restrained, professional smile. They’d known which way the board was leaning as soon as the hearing started. Still, the end result was a huge relief. 

“Do you want to just pick up y/n on the way home?” Isabella was wearing a rare, full fledged smile.

“Yeah, I’ll call her!”

Y/n: Where are you?

[Missed call from Star]

Star: Saw y/n walk into the amphitheater so I think she forgot about the hearing. 

Y/n: Help

[Missed call from Star]

[Missed call from Athena]

Star: Call me as soon as you get this.

Star: Had a bad feeling and doubled back, but she was gone. Saw Julio get in his car. Nikolai’s car was still in the lot. Would they do something?

[Missed call from Star]

Star: I waited and saw another alpha leave. It might have just been her and them. Don’t panic.

Star: Stay calm, don’t panic.

Emmaline: Do you want help looking?

“Damiano? Honey? What’s he doing?” Matteo tried to get a good look in the mirror at his son whose breathing had doubled in pace and was shivering while sweating.

“I think he’s having a panic attack. Dami, what's going on?” Isabella turned around and took his clammy hands in her own. “Could be the adrenaline from the meeting?”

“I’m pulling over.” Matteo idled in a turn out.

“Amphitheater.”

“Honey, practice is over. You didn’t miss practice, you were excused. It's okay, let's go home.”  

“Amphitheater!”

“Do not scream at me, Damiano,” Matteo replies patiently. Dami slams his phone onto the center console. Isabella reads the notifications out loud and they’re headed to the field by the time she says ‘help.”

“She might be home already,” Isabella offers. Dami calls Clio, but he knows it isn’t true before she picks up.

“I thought she was with you.”

“So she’s not home?” Footsteps pound up the stairs two at a time. He recognizes the creak of y/n’s door.

“She’s not here,” Clio pants.

“Check –”

“I know I’m checking!” In the closet, under the bed, Clio looked in all the places y/n associated with calm or would hide as a child. If she’d been put in a state of terror, y/n would hide instinctively in order to survive. Until an omega calms down enough to think rationally, they’re an animal whose mechanisms of self defense are limited to the path of least resistance and making themselves invisible. The claustrophobia of being unable to fight back created some drastic evolutionary responses to avoid being targeted. 

Post societal collapse, omegas would likely survive to reproductive age at double the rate of alphas. However, in a first world country, it was an arcane instinct that could be manipulated to terrorize omegas. And that's what you were: absolutely terrified and alone. You needed Damiano more than you ever and every cell in his body was screaming with the unfulfilled urge to protect.

  “I don’t think she’s in the house, but let me just make sure…Dad? Thalia? Has y/n come home from school yet?” There’s a long pause and Clio is back on the line, panic in her voice.

“She’s not here. Do you know where she is, Dami? It still gets dark and cold earlier this time of year.” That's another thing you might be: hypothermic. 

“I know where to start, but you should stay there in case she comes home. So someone will understand what’s happening.”

“And what happened?” There's anger in her voice, probably suspecting y/n was only in this position because of Damiano. She was right.  

“I think she got cornered by three alphas.”

“Fuck, I’ll call my mom.” 

Before the car was even stopped, Damiano jumped out. He ran onto the field screaming your name then fell completely silent. He listened for a whimper, jogged around the perimeter trying to pick up your scent. In doing so, he saw a peak of green fabric, whose hue he recognized as your backpack. It was over the fence, hidden in an abandoned tire. Damiano scaled the fence quicker than he thought possible, taking a picture of the scene before digging through all the papers. Most had your name written in blue pen at the top.

Someone else had put them back in, crumpled and out of order. Why take everything out? If they touched this, had they touched you? He can’t suppress the pressure in his chest anymore and breaks out in loud sobs. At first they’re tearless, desperate noises, and then his face is flooded with saline and snot. Matteo makes his way over and hands Dami a tissue through the fence. 

“Wha – why, why would she leave it here? May – be be – because she’s around here. Y/n? Y/n?” For a minute, Matteo lets his son have hope. When his wife comes over they speak in hushed voices. Dami looks back at their preoccupied expressions, and wants to scream at them to search as well. Through that veiled pity, he realizes they’re not looking for y/n because they don’t think she’s here. 

“What? What is it?” he demands, wiping his nose on his sleeve like a toddler. 

“We don’t think y/n left it here, but we’ve already alerted the collegiate board and given them names.”

“Then how…” Someone hid it. Dami sinks to his knees, not wanting to think it, much less say it. In the background his mother talks about contacting parents and coaches.

“Do you think that they, that um,” a shaky hand covers Damiano’s mouth to muffle a scream. “They only care about hiding the evidence because they don’t think we’re gonna find her?” His voice loses all masculinity and courage, ending in a high pitched whimper.

“No,” Isabella states firmly. Matteo isn’t positive about that answer, but he agrees with his wife unequivocally. 

“Three high schoolers, right? Maybe they just didn’t know what to do with it,” he offers.

“Maybe they’re sadistic little shits that wanted to make the search even tougher for you.” Matteo and Dami are shocked at an ever-composed Isabella’s crass language. Yes she was an alpha, but Isabella limited the world’s perception of her as such. 

“They could have planted it there to send you in the wrong direction or terrify you. It could be as harmless as taking her backpack because they knew it’d annoy y/n. Maybe they threw it over the fence as a laugh and the little shits went on their merry way. So get back over this fence, show me her route home, and everything will be fine by dinner. Okay?” Isabella didn’t leave any room for argument.

“Her phone isn’t in there,” Damiano announced when his feet hit the turf.

“Then it's probably with her,” Matteo concluded. Feeling like an absolute dumb ass, Dami calls y/n right away. She doesn’t pick up the first or second or sixth time. Damiano sees why as he steps off the field. Somehow the whole family had missed the phone smashed against the cement. Dami drops to his hands and knees crawling around trying to gather the pieces, because maybe it wasn't yours. Sure it was the right model and color, but millions had been manufactured. 

Then Damiano finds the backing and wails with anguish. Thalia had insisted y/n decorate her phone with some volcanology stickers. The biggest one was faded where his omega rubbed her thumb in a circle absentmindedly. For a second Dami can’t take any more of this purgatory. I need her safe. I need her safe. I need her safe, I need her safe, I need her safe. IneedhersafeIneedhersafeIneedhersafeIneedher.

***

You hide in a wooded area a block from the amphitheater. No one would suspect, because you’d only visited once on a field trip. Phoenix might be watching, unsatisfied and yearning to inflict some real sadism. So you stay hidden until it feels safe, completely still, like a fawn. Movement can trigger predators. 

The problem is night falls before it feels safe. The woods are dark so you stumble for 50 yards, moving towards the street lights. Tripping on a log and face planting doesn’t even trigger a pain response. When you get to the treeline, you search for your assailants. There’s got to be a safe place with better lighting, but you’ll have to stay awake all night, so you can disappear into the shadows if they hunt you down. That is, unless you can get on the other side of a locked door. Then you’ll be safe. 

The darkness only worsens the fear. You can feel yourself being followed, but not see the steps that stalk you, always on your heels. Each time you whip around, Julio, Nikolai, or Pheonix manage to hide. It's an hour's walk home and this is too exposed. You’ll ever make it, might as well be waving bait in front of the predators. 

The first bus that passes, you get on. Everyone’s staring so you sit in the back. After the last stop, the bus driver tries calling out to you, but the sound blends into the idling engine. He has to physically tap on your shoulder, which makes you scream in surprise. He seems almost as jarred as you feel, scampering off the bus.

“Are you hurt? Miss? Is there someone I should call?” You run until you’re breathless, bending over and clutching your chest. Phoenix probably couldn’t keep your trail, but your body was shaking in a way you recognized as shivering. This didn’t look like home or safety.  Nothing here evoked memories. All you could do was walk until the world became familiar.

The sliver of moon cast long, distorted shadows, making mundane objects look sinister. A cat darts across the street. That makes you jump out of your skin and cower behind a bush. How long have you been walking? It could be 20 minutes, or an hour and a half. Working up the courage to continue might take even longer. Each time you scan for predators, their absence is never comforting enough to make your way back to the sidewalk. Eventually, you clench your teeth and do so anyway.

***

Y/n’s house has become missing person’s ground zero. Even Sandro helped search. Or rather, he kept watch while Damiano grabbed Julio by the lapels of his jacket and dragged him up a wall. The terrified alpha spilled all the details immediately, but it was more useless information. Sandro assured his little brother that this wasn’t a big deal and things like this mostly turned out alright. Damiano shoves him to the ground and the snarling accidently instills in Kevin the power behind that shiny exterior. He is much more self aware when he speaks to Damiano, reiterating that he’s confident everything will be fine. 

“She’s a fighter.”

“That's what I’m worried about. Alphas pick on omegas that challenge their power.”

“But she’s a brave girl.” One more platitude and Damiano was going to throttle Kevin.

“And that's what I’m worried about! Submission is the only way out!” Dami storms outside and paces in the backyard. It seems like the entire family is living in denial as a coping mechanism. Yes, y/n is probably fine, but the fact that he hadn’t an ounce of certainty sparked rage at all these people who could eat, sleep, read, and communicate without y/n, unharmed, in their arms. Dami could barely think, was still in disbelief that almost four hours later you hadn’t turned up. 

He heads back inside, keeping his shit together because he has to, and for no other reason. Before the squeaky door could announce his entrance, Dami overhears Thalia rattling off facts from her serial killer podcasts that make his heart stop beating.

“Statistically, the further you are from the time of abduction, the less likely you are to find the victim.”

“Bad timing Thalia.”

“But I’m not talking about missing omega statistics. Interesting enough, they do follow the same trend, but not with nearly as steep a curve. Other people aren’t what's most deadly, it’s mostly accidental and natural. Getting hit by a car or bus, accidentally injuring oneself and bleeding out, ravines, drowning.” Damiano shuts the door, pulls off his sweater, crouches down in the middle of the lawn, and screams bloody murder into the fabric until his throat hurts. Then he cries, imagining all the ways you could die, in pain and alone. 

It's a reminder that one of you has to go first. He might have to live decades, knowing you no longer exist in the world. That could be true right now, maybe you were already gone` and security would find your body by morning. Maybe you're about to fall off the edge of the earth and he can’t stop it because he doesn’t know where you are. Could fate be cruel enough to only give him four months? How many times had he said ‘I love you?’” 

“Well, there has to be something we haven’t thought of,” sighs Olivia, as he walks back into the living room.

“Friends, family, routine or preferred places,” Clio lists off. “They all know to call right away. What about that other little shit? Nikolai?”

“His parents reported he came home earlier this evening. His story matches, swears he didn’t put his hands on her. However there will be repercussions.” Isabella speaks in a calm, clinical tone, but her voice sounds strained. Anyone who looks at Damiano can see he wants revenge, not repercussions. Its torture, being unable to act on this properly, because he just got his life back. No, that’s what he wanted: torture.

“It's unfair,” he says through clenched teeth. 

“Yes, it is,” levels Matteo, putting a hand on his son’s back.

“Maybe this is an over reaction and she’s at a friend’s house! Hasn’t realized she lost her phone? I know I was that careless at 15.”

“Darling, that’s not what –”

“I found her backpack,” snapped Damiano.

“Listen, I fully believe that you think you saw her backpack, but –”

“Excuse me, what are you imply –”

“The papers had her name on them, you imbecile!” The entire room falls silent and Dami has to focus on not turning into a snarling alpha. “Excuse me,” he says tightly, stomping upstairs with his hands balled into fists. In the background, voices continue.

“Are you questioning my son’s honesty or connection to reality?” Dami pauses after turning the corner, surprised to hear his mother speak so sharply. “Because I can assure you, I saw the same thing. In fact, he has a picture on his phone if –”

“No, no, my apologies, Isabella. That won’t be necessary.” Olivia cringes, wanting to contradict her husband, but shying away from it.

“Obviously Damiano’s perspective is distorted because he’s y/n’s alpha, but I’m starting to be concerned, too. I know we’ll find her by morning, but she might have hypothermia by then and –” Dami walks into your room and closes the door behind him. If Clio is the voice of reason, we really are lost. For a second, he’s the calmest he’s been all day. That very quickly turns into devastation.

“Come home. Come back to me. Tell me where you are. Find someone with a phone. Fucking anything,” Dami babbles into your pillow. It smells like you, but it’s not enough to quell his asphyxiating anxiety. Only the real thing can do that. He’s never believed in God, or fate, or energy of the universe, but right now he’d plead his case to any higher power that would listen. They were all at a loss. You’d moved three hours north when you were nine, so all those childhood spots were on the coast. There were a few routine hangouts, then people’s houses.

It felt silly to call up everyone in y/n’s life and ask them to report your appearance. As if any decent person wouldn’t call the parents of a dissociated 15 year old who showed up at their house unannounced in the middle of the night. It all felt futile and Damiano couldn’t tell if being in your bedroom made him more or less miserable. This thought jogged a memory of your voice. I want to like – I don’t know, walk to your house, climb in your window, or something crazy.

There was no way. Damiano checked the security cameras at the front and back of his house. They hadn’t filmed anything, but if you did literally go in through the window…It was possible the motion sensor wouldn’t pick it up. Possible was more than he’d had for the last two hours. Damiano is half way down the stairs, ready to announce his great idea, when it hits him that having seven people watching may make you feel worse.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. I think I just need to go home and get some sleep.” Everyone reassured that no mistakes had been made and it was all very understandable. How impressive of an alpha to have so much self reflection. Of course, Isabella would use the geotracker in Dami’s phone to make sure he wasn’t going to commit homicide. Thankfully, it couldn’t tell her how fast he drove.

“Y/n?” He took a deep breath in, while taking off his boots. Dami had started hallucinating your scent before the one hour mark, but this was definitely real. Strangely enough, it didn’t lead straight to his room.

“Y/n? Baby, where are you?” He follows it to the back door and around the perimeter of the kitchen. The David’s didn’t leave windows open habitually, but every single one was locked. They’d never bothered to lock the skylight above the reading nook after having it installed because who the hell is going to repel down from the roof? It’d been locked. There was blood and a muddy footprint on the counter. No one else who’d do that but a paranoid omega.

He breaks into a jog, then slows down before the door, expecting to be locked as well. It’s not. You hadn’t locked him out. Damiano bursts into the bedroom and drops down with his chest to the carpet. You’re here in this room, or at least you were, but there's nothing under the bed. He would have bet money you’d be here. Nothing behind the desk and the whole closet always smelled like you because he’d never washed the sheets from the first time. He always sat in here when he touched himself, but couldn’t touch you. The stains told a story that he never tired of reliving.

The reality was that with the unlocked door and empty hiding spot you probably weren’t here anymore. But if he’d gotten here faster…Damiano still had to do his due diligence which meant locating the flash light that was likely under all this mess. Trying to conjure emotional stamina, he takes a deep breath that gets caught in his throat.

“Are you okay?” The voice is barely audible, but he recognizes it. 

***

“Y/n? Y/n! Where the fuck are you? Love? Oh my fucking god,” his voice breaks. Dami drops to the ground, feeling around for an arm or a leg. You climb out from under the pile of laundry and pull him into the shadows, behind the closet door. Dami blindly reaches out for you, vision not adapted to darkness.

“Who’s with you? Phoenix?” He could have deceived Damiano into thinking he had information and tricked his way into the house to get at you.

“What? I’m alone. Baby, come here,” he reaches out, anxious to finally hold you after this excruciating day. “C’mere, y/n. Just…just come to me,” he pleads. Damiano doesn’t want to freak you out further by forcefully hauling you out of your hiding spot. However, not doing so is torture. The sound of his voice tugs deep in your chest, but nothing can compete with this fear response. 

“Lock the bedroom door.” It was irrational, but the only way you’d feel safe. “And turn off the ceiling light.” You peek around the corner to see if the curtains went all the way to the ground. Slats of light from under the fabric would alert any passerby that someone was inhabiting this room.

“Y/n, you’re safe now.” It was a comforting sentiment, but there was no safety with Phoenix hunting you down to finish the job. Receding away from the corner brought you within inches of Dami’s face. As soon as you make eye contact, he extends a cautious hand.

“Phoenix, he’s – I think he’s dangerous,” you hiss. Even though you saw it coming, Dami’s hand on your waist startles you.

“Shh, shh. You’re okay. You’re okay,” he whispers. The sound of his voice evokes so many memories of gentle, loving touch that they blend together. Damiano reaches his hand around your back and to the other side, so his arm is wrapped around your middle. Your first instinct is to pull away to make sure he’ll allow it, but a much stronger urge to move towards this force of anti-chaos prevails. 

“I’m dangerous,” he emphasizes, forcing your brain to recalibrate. Damiano was so doting that his increased capability for destruction slipped your mind. Phoenix was just a regular alpha, without the motivation of a mate. Hearing your breathing change, Dami extended his other hand very slowly. He loosely wrapped his thumb and pointer finger around your wrist, and pulled towards him.

“You’re my omega so I become a weapon of lethal force to anyone that threatens you. In my presence, you are always safe.” The words take a second to process, but when they do you finally feel something again. That prospect is intimidating enough that you’re reaching for Damiano, just as he hoped you would. He pulls you into his lap and hugs you too tight. Instead of squeezing and releasing, he keeps you that close, until you have to ask for air. 

“Sorry, sorry.” There are tears on his face and when he roughly wipes them away they’re replaced two-fold. “Fuck, come here,” his voice breaks. This time you try to return the hug, even as your arms feel weak. Dami splays his hands out and rubs up and down, covering as much surface area as possible. His face is pressed into your neck, hair caught between in desperation. Heaving breaths try to replenish your smell like a diver has to replenish the oxygen in their bloodstream.

“Please scent me,” he whimpers, sniffling. You go through the movements, but getting back in tune with your body isn’t instantaneous.

“Are you shivering? Your cheeks are cold.” The back of his hand presses against both sides of your face. You offer up your uninjured hand, which, admittedly you can’t feel. The concern in his expression is so adorable that you kiss Damiano without thinking. It’s just a peck and he’s too startled to kiss back. You’ve obviously interrupted his train of thought because Dami opens his mouth to speak, but the words come a second later.

“We need to call your parents and tell them.” In retrieving his phone, Dami shifts his weight and you wrap your legs over his hips. Closer feels safer.

“Hey, I found her…Yeah, in my closet, actually. Mostly, but she’s really cold. Do I take her to a hospital?” You shake your head vigorously and try to snatch his phone. “No hospital apparently!” he exclaims, dodging your attempts. “Um, I mean her lips aren’t blue at all, but she’s shivering…Yeah, okay. Okay. Mhm, bye.” As soon as he lets down his guard, you grab Dami’s phone and slide it across the room. 

“I guess, we should get up anyways,” he scoffs. To sit on the bed, is the implication. Or maybe in the dining room. Both would leave you so exposed that anyone could come in before you had the chance to hide. Damiano gets up to retrieve his phone and pull back the covers. However, when you crawl off his lap, you go back into the darkness and refuge of the closet. Instantly the shivering worsens. Your hand throbs, too, but you can’t feel why. 

Instead of arguing. Dami climbs into the closet after you. He reaches up to pull a gigantic sweater off a hanger and removes his top. Just him being shirtless, you can feel heat radiating from his body.

“C’mere,” he coaxes. Damiano pulls the sweater on, but holds out the hem, inviting your under. There isn’t a moment's hesitation before you sit between his legs and duck underneath. Your face is pressed to his bare skin and just absorbing that one sensation takes you a second. All his warmth is trapped by the sweater, which is a bit musty but Dami’s body odor is heavenly. All the anxiety had him sweating through his deodorant. Damiano grabs the extra comforter from the bottom of the closet and throws it over your legs. He pulls it chest height and wraps his arms around you. In return, you experiment with scenting again, brushing against his chest.

“Whatcha doing?” he endears, looking down through the stretched out neckline. You take a deep breath for the first time in…

“How long?”

“A little over four hours.” 

“Shit,” you wince.

“Not your fault.” The anger radiates from him just like the heat. “Julio said he and Nikolai didn’t touch you, is that true?”

“Technically, yes.” Having to go back to that mental state is not only unpleasant, but jarring. “Can we talk about this later?” you whine, hiding your face against his skin. Guilt settles in the pit of his stomach.

“Some of it, yes. Some of it I need to know now. I’m sorry love.” You nod your head and Dami continues.

“Who was there besides Nikolai and Julio? Phoenix? Bystanders?

 “No bystanders. I tried to escape so other people would see, but Pheonix got in the way.” The word escape momentarily makes Dami lose his cool and he’s glad you’re not looking at his face.

“So you went into the amphitheater and all three were waiting?” You shake your head. “Okay…” Dami takes a deep breath and applies more pressure with his hand while rubbing your back.

“I think Nikolai texted Phoenix because they’re cousins. He’s the alpha that attacked me three months ago.” 

“Right,” he replies tightly. Keep it together, or she’ll absorb your anger. You can punch something later. 

“They wanted revenge.” On me. This is my fault and they took it out on her. I’m going to slit those fuckers neck to navel and flay them like a fish. I’m gonna take everything they –

“Dami?”

“Yes my love?” 

“I can feel you thinking about murder.”

“Sorry,” he winced, refocusing. He had to ask the hard question, the one he didn’t want an answer to.

“So did Phoenix,” deep breath, “do something to you?”

“Pushed me to the ground, broke my phone, and he, um,” your voice gets small then disappears at the memory. 

“He scared you?”

“All of them.”

“All of them tried to scare you.” 

“But he…” you’re both holding your breath. “Went into headspace. Then I ran.” Dami holds you too tight again and kisses your head. You may not know how dangerous the situation was, but he did. Retelling it was visibly distressing, so he tried to think of something to calm the anxiety. 

“Want to watch the security camera footage from tonight? It only covers about 60% of the house, but you can check the main entrances.” This sounds like a splendid idea. Dami pulls up the app on his phone and hands it to you. The idea that Phoenix and possibly Julio and Nikolai have been following you for four hours becomes less and less likely in your head. However, you’d been so damn sure and it felt unquestionably real.

“I – I feel like I’m…going insane. I can’t tell if I was actually being stalked.”

“The paranoia is normal. I’ve heard coming out of it can be a real mind fuck.” You nod, handing Damiano’s phone back to him. There was nothing on the footage except a bunny in the backyard. It’s embarrassing, the way you’d reacted, even though you couldn’t help it. 

“And everyone was freaking?”

“I was the only one freaking out.” He kisses your head again and again, drawing a heart on your scalp with his lips. Dami keeps running into dead leaves and twigs that he carefully picks out. Internally, you feel like an inflatable toy that's lost 25% of its air. 

“I called your dad an imbecile.” When you don’t laugh in response to this, Dami knows how sleepy you are. The shivering has stopped and your face has color again. Your lips part as little puffs of air hit his chest. The knowledge of how differently today could have ended up makes him nauseous. Instead of wrapped in his arms, you could be in a hospital bed with a cast, or bruised ribs, or internal bleeding. Whatever boundaries Phoenix might have set for himself would be second to his desire for violence.

Omegas have alphas because they can’t defend themselves. The only time you’d asked for his help, he’d had his phone off. Dami vows never to do that again, no matter how unprofessional it was for a call to interrupt a meeting. You needed him, so he should have been there. The volatile part of Dami fantasizes about how much he could fuck up those three alphas, given the excuse that they’d attacked his omega. How many bones could he break and still be met with understanding from the public?

The rumble of a barely audible purr wrenches Dami from his fantasies of vengeance. Your arm twitches against his chest as you fall asleep. The first thing he was gonna do when you were settled was text all his close alpha friends what had happened. Even if they didn’t have a personal stake in your life, they had their own omegas to protect, values to uphold. There were ways to make it impossible for your attackers to ever victimize someone again, both judicial and with brute force. He was fine with either.

Your soft purring continues distracting Dami everytime his thoughts take too dark a turn. The sound evokes the warmest sensation he’s ever felt in his life.

“Such a smart girl, knew you’d be safe in my den.” You nod against Damiano and yawn, nuzzling his chest. Running, walking, and hiding in a state of hypervigilance for four hours was exhausting, especially with your body attempting to compensate for how cold it was. The adrenaline spike from the attack had also taxed your endocrine system, as well.

Dami had completely forgotten that both sets of parents would be coming over until the sound of the door made you startle and cower. He whispered assurances, reminders that you knew these people, and that they were safe. Isabella and Matteo were first down the hall, since they already knew where you’d be. Olivia and Kevin followed, and it was momentarily hilarious to watch all four scan the room.

“Well that is a great hiding spot,” Isabella exclaimed. She murmurs something to Matteo who nods and slips out of the doorway.

“You said y/n was here,” Kevin states, a bit gruff. Isabella gestures to Damiano with a nearly indiscernible smile, who lifts the corner of the comforter with his foot to reveal two sets of legs.  

“Well what's she doing in your clothes?” your father interrogates, like cuddling is inherently something perverse. “Y/n?” he calls, as if you’re not within hearing range. His voice is so loud that you cringe. You can feel Damiano take a deep breath and hope he’ll call your father an imbecile again.

“She’s sleepy.” He kisses your head twice as punctuation. “And getting warm.” You look up at Dami with a pained expression, knowing you’ll have to part.

“It's a rather inventive way of sharing body heat that they’ve come up with.” Isabella is trying to model behavior for Kevin like he’s five. Floorboards creak as Matteo comes back into the room with a thermometer. He hands it to Dami, who passes it down to you.

“This is ridiculous,” Matteo whispers, to Olivia, who gives him a scorching stare.

“You have a more effective way of warming her up?” Damiano challenges. The thermometer beeps, and you pass it back up.

“96.7 so it’s a miracle she isn’t shivering. Normal is 98.6.” He resumes rubbing your back. 

“People lose a lot of heat from their scalp,” Olivia adds, surprisingly helpful. Dami tucks your head under his chin.

“One of the alphas pushed her to the cement. What can we do right now?”

“Is she okay?” exclaims Isabella.

“I don’t know yet,” Damiano answers honestly. For the first time, Kevin seems to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

“If he’s 18, we can have him arrested tonight,” states Isabella.

“Really?” you whisper. Damiano nods, and switches to pressing his cheek to your hair.

“He’s a 12th year at Okoro named Phoenix. Not on their soccer team. Blond, about six feet. I don’t know his last name, but I’ll recognize his face. He’s bothered her before.” Isabella nods while dialing, pacing to the other side of the room.

“What the hell do you mean ‘he’s bothered her before?’” blurts your dad.

“I took care of it and I will again.” Damiano’s tone is surprisingly measured, like he’s stating objective facts. Your alpha’s ability to convey power without raising his voice was infinitely more impactful. You can’t see faces through the knit, but the tension is still palatable.

“I think we need to assess y/n’s health properly, to see if she’s okay. We can’t do that while she’s in your clothes.”

“We know she isn’t okay. She was hypothermic 10 minutes ago,” Damiano snaps.

“Which is why we need to assess what else is wrong.”

“So she can be hypothermic again? That sounds productive.”

“I do not appreciate the tone you’ve been taking with me, young man.”

“Kevin!”

“What Damiano is trying to say is that a health issue is already being addressed and we can only do these things one at a time. To switch back and forth before we’ve finished addressing one health issue would ruin all progress and be detrimental to y/n’s health rather than beneficial.”

“Let’s listen to what Matteo’s saying,” implores Olivia.

“I’m her father!”

“And I’m her alpha.” Dami can’t prevent a bit of canine dialect from sneaking in. His voice has a growl to it that is definitely sub-human. The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You could hear the hypothetical idea of a pin drop. It was so quiet that if a pin had ever dropped in this room, at any point in history, you’d be able to hear that sound echo through time.

Rather than rest on Damiano’s torso, you wrap both arms around him. The sensation of your injured hand brushing against the wall makes your eyes water in pain. This whole conversation had you stress sweating and now that sweat was drying against your skin. You start shaking again, teeth chattering.

“And now we’ve stressed her out, terrific.” Damiano wraps you in a tight embrace and rocks back and forth. The trembling doesn’t stop and the lack of control of your body makes you panic. He can see it in your eyes when he checks in and whispers apologies. Kevin is trying to assert dominance through some sort of macho stare-down which makes Damiano roll his eyes. The utter disregard for the gesture is apparently unacceptable.

“Y/n! Out. Now.” The yelling was so horrible that you just obeyed.

“This is so stupid,” say’s Dami, shaking his head. It sucks. It really, really sucks. Without Damiano and without the dissociation, you can feel how cold you are, how much your feet and hips hurt from walking in bad shoes. Your elbows are sore. It feels like there's half a dozen needles poking you under your clothes. And your hand hurts like a mother fucker.

“So co-co-co-cold.” You look behind yourself for that wonderful heat source and Dami is already waiting to welcome you into his arms. He pulls the blanket up while glaring at your father.

“So glad we did this,” he bites, as Isabella comes over.

“Okay…” She absorbs the scene with uncertainty on her face, also unsure why you’d been extracted from the most effective way of raising your body temperature. “Let's put her in warm, dry clothes.” Kevin huffs in agreement, and all of them leave. Hanging in the doorway, Damiano can see his expectant expression, that the alpha would leave his omega unguarded. Like he would trust anyone else to care for you right now. It was absurd.

Kevin gestures to Olivia to go into the bedroom. At first she’s happy to help, but then sees the battle of wills between Dami and her husband.

“You’ll be alright in here?” she asks Dami.

“Yes, thank you,” he answers cordially. 

Olivia nods once, closing the door as she hisses, “I’d like to talk to you” at her husband. The Davids have graciously given them the hallway to discuss, and are making tea in the kitchen.

“What in the hell?” she whisper yells, aflame in anger.

“I know! That kid doesn’t have an ounce of respect. I say we take her home right now and deal with this ourselves.”

“Do you know why we’re here, in this house?”

“Cause y/n’s here,” he replies dumbly.

“And why is that?” she snaps. Kevin had never seen his wife with so little patience.

“Because she walked here?”

“Because when she was scared for her life and needed somewhere that felt safe, somewhere she knew she’d be cared for, she. Didn’t. Come. Home.”

“Yeah, she wanted an excuse to go hang out with her boyfriend,” he dismisses. Olivia grabs him by the chin and forces Kevin to look at her.

“An acute stress response is not a social call. If they were mated that’d be one thing, but they're not. Her brain was operating on instinct and her subconscious believed that these people would be more likely to give her the help she needs than her own parents.”

“So we’ll have them spend more time at our house.”

“Kevin she was right!” Olivia doesn’t mean to shout and immediately lowers her voice. “Who did all the reporting to the collegiate board today? Who got the thermometer? Who contacted the security force? All to protect our daughter, not their son. Think about that.”  Kevin does, in fact, have a very rare moment of self-reflection.

  “I guess even focusing on Thalia with the speech therapy and the programs and all the psychologists was…a lot. It was overwhelming. Then Clio became – she was overwhelming and I didn’t have much more in me. Y/n has always been so tough that I didn’t worry.”

“Kevin, hear me when I say, I don’t give a good god damn whether you like that boy or not. If they stay together, he is gonna get a certification from trade school while y/n is in her 12th year and he is gonna take her anywhere in the world she wants. If we don’t like it, there are two wonderful people willing to fill our shoes and our daughter doesn’t ever have to deal with us again. If you want to have more than another two summers with y/n, then so help me jesus christ, you will make friends with these people. Because I am going to have a relationship with her and this family with or without you.”

***

“Ugh, I just wanna cuddle and go to sleep,” you whine. 

“I know, baby.”

“But my hand hurts so fucking bad.” You scoot into the light and all the swelling and bruising makes your stomach flip. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head away.

“Dami, Dami, scent me.” You reach out with your good hand, opening your eyes just a crack in the opposite direction of the injury. Instantly he’s there nuzzling and holding you close, humming. The stress in your voice was palatable, but he doesn’t see the reason for a couple seconds.

“Oh my god.”

“When he pushed me I landed wrong. Distract me.” You say all in the same breath. Injuries on other people bothered you only slightly, but injuries on yourself made you feel severely ill, like combining the flu with vertigo.

“We have to –”

“I don’t care, I don’t care, distract me!” He rocks you back and forth, singing in your ear, scenting so heavily your brain went elsewhere for a couple precious seconds. You take a couple deep breaths in this refuge, and Damiano breathes with you.

“I’m sorry for yelling.” You open your eyes completely, still facing away. “Is it broken?”

“Yes.”

“Can we go to the hospital tomorrow?”

“The bones are already healing. They could heal the wrong way and you’d have to rebreak –”

“Okay, heard!”

“Can I tell them now?” he whispers, still rocking. You shake your head.

“I want to change my clothes first, if we have to go to the hospital.”

“Baby, you can’t change your shirt, but…Wait, were you in the woods?” A full two inches of the hem of your jeans is soaked and muddy.

“Help me change my pants please.” He nods, and you’re strategizing how to get off the ground, when Damiano wraps both arms around your ribcage and brings you upright with him. Habitually, you embrace him back and moving your fingers makes you hiss in pain, then double over. Your eyes squeeze shut while reciting every swear word you know. Upon opening your eyes, the broken hand is in your periphery.

“Is that fixable?”

“Absolutely.” He sounds so damn sure that you take a deep breath. “I’ve seen a lot of bad breaks, you’re gonna be fine. Do you want your leggings or my black sweats with the paint stain?”

“Uh, both.”

“Good idea.” Damiano had accidentally given you your own drawer, or rather half of one. You pointed it out and both laughed about passing this relationship milestone without realizing. When Matteo did the laundry he’d set your little pile of clothes to the left of Damiano’s on top of the dresser. It all happened so organically.

Your wet jeans were heavy and stuck to your skin. Undoing the fly one handed while sitting down was possible, but then you realized you were getting Dami’s bed dirty. 

“Ah, shit,” you stood up and looked behind you at the forest green blanket with little embroidered flowers. The fabric was too dark to judge.

“Your underwear wet too?” he asked, pulling down your pants for you.

“Why, you got something planned?” Damiano huffed a laugh and hung his head. You’re trying to keep things light, even as you continue to shiver. Knelt down, Dami pulled off your socks too and put on a pair of his wool ones. Getting two pairs of pants on involved a little laughter and almost falling over, despite a one-handed grip on Damiano’s shoulder. When he finished pulling up the waistband of the sweatpants, you put your good hand on his cheek and waited. After a couple seconds, Dami’s focus returned to your face and you kissed him.

There’d be no chance for this at the hospital, so you take full advantage of this little, private moment. Dami is unsure at first, then very confident, falling into the familiarity of your body. You take the hand on his face and drag it down his neck, chest, into his back pocket. The new grip allows you to eliminate the space between, pulling Damiano’s hips closer to yours. He moans, gets a bit feral, then forces himself to freeze and pull away. 

Damiano busies himself changing his own clothes, but he has a tell. He blinks much slower when trying not to get aroused at an inappropriate time. Dami is doing it right now and diverting his gaze away from you, trying to distract himself. A knock on the door makes Damiano clear his throat harshly and fiddle with a hanger, back turned.

“Yep. All good. Come in,” he voice breaks at the end like he’s 14 and you snicker.

“Oh you couldn’t find a clean top?” Isabella’s question is rhetorical. She actually means why didn’t you change into a warmer shirt? You extend your hand out and someone gasps, which isn’t very reassuring. You’re trembling from the cold, still.

“My first instinct would be to ice that, but – actually let's take your temperature again.” Isabella looks up for the thermometer Matteo is already handing her. While Olivia is clutching her sternum in horror, the David’s are entirely unfazed. Having two athletic alpha sons seems to have rendered them comparatively unshakeable. 

“I know Y/n and Damiano are going to be attached at the hip till she’s feeling better.” Isabella says it amicably, but also as a statement of fact. “I’d be happy to take them to get that wrist x-rayed right now and I assume y/n will feel safest sleeping here because it's Dami’s room.” It's charitable wording, to make it about feelings, which are so much easier to trivialize than instincts. Olivia and Matteo hold eye contact, one omegan parent to the other and there's an understanding.

“I'll take them to the hospital and drop them back when we’re done. Does that work? Can I get you anything on the way back?” offers Olivia. After the Davids and your mother agree on a plan, you breathe a sigh of relief and tune it out. It doesn’t matter. Your father’s preferences don’t outweigh the other three, no matter his entitlement or the size of his ego. A minor draft from the vent or windows makes you shiver violently, teeth chatter. It reminds Dami to take your temperature, and he doesn’t like what that reveals.

“96.1 of course she's losing body heat. Warm up the car.”

Notes: So this was a sub-plot I was gonna explore, but Guardian Angel is already to overwhelmingly long. As a result, I've decided to stick with all the other plot points so I can hopefully get this thing finished in under 20 chapters since I've been working on it over well over a year. (What the fuck) Thank you for reading and encouragement .

Taglist: @bieberhoodforever @blackberryblossom @butkutee @cuzimitaliano @elvirabelle  @iamtashaquinn@icarodamiano @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @mortyandem  @the-chaotic-cow @wasteddoubts @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia  @azertyhug @biancathecool@bohemianrainbow @daisy0gf @dustyinkpages @katyldamusic@obiw4n @persona1read1ng  @gr8rainbowpunk @hiraetheral @l0standn0tf0und@que--sera--sera @stardustingold@teenyweenynightghost   @softmullet @solacestyles @thegeminisgirl @slavicgoddess13 @bright-shiningstar@lizzylynch1 @hauntedpostperson@harryssshouseee @lonnybunnys

[chemical-killjoy]

✨MASTERLIST✨

Greetings Dear Reader! Right now the majority of the fics on my masterlist are from my old blogs, @immrbrightsideeee and @remingtonisleithal, so most links will take you to that, any and all notes on those posts I am not likely to see for a bloody long time, so please message me or send an ask or something if you really liked the fics/want a sequel or are anything! Also if you like my writing, check out @smiling-girl and @fandomfoodiedancer, they're amazing <33

Requests are OPEN

(and encouraged lol)

I write for a whole bunch of fandoms, but here's the ones I can think of: arcane, black veil brides, bridgerton, buffy the vampire slayer, maneskin, marvel, motionless in white, my chemical romance, palaye royale, pierce the veil, the artful dodger, the raven cycle (books), and supernatural :)

If you like my writing, here's the link to join my taglist (It's very important you guys fill this out if you wanna join my taglist as I do write some serious, dark topics sometimes) and here's a link to buy me a coffee

updated: 14/12/24

* = smut

Damiano David:

*A night to remember 1/2

smut. Damiano is attracted to reader singing iwbys

Movie and a kiss

the reader had a fight with their family and Damiano looks after them

Fast Car (trigger warning)

Honestly this is just angst and emotional and if you don’t cry I have failed as a writer. But it’s got a happy ending!!

Vic de Angelis:

Knight in Shining Armour

Vic saves the reader from a creep at a bar

Remington Leith:

*Caught in the Storm

reader and remington share a bed in a storm. What ever will happen?

Feel better

comfort fic, remington takes the reader on an adventure to feel better

*Only one answer (part two of Feel Better)

I will find you

mesmerized by someone in the crowd, remington has to find the reader

Something beautiful (part 2 of I will find you)

I Just Need Some Air*

young!Remington and the reader are at a party and after confessing their feelings things get heated.

Better Than Nutella

Remington is hooked on his new friend’s cooking, and smile.

Movie Night

Remington and Y/N have a movie night

Morning Light: (this is a collab with @cursivetalk)

vampire Remington, based on the tonight is the night I die video. Series, currently being written.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Emerson Barrett:

Teach me

emerson teaches the reader the drums

Andy Biersack:

Don’t go (trigger warning) (there is comfort)

I Don’t Wanna Be Alone (trigger warning) (with comfort)

Love isn’t always fair *

After a concert Andy reveals his love for his best friend

Mortician’s Daughter (trigger warning)

Thomas Raggi:

Moonlight’s Curse (part 1)

werewolf!thomas, a series being written :)

Mistakes and Misunderstandings

Ronnie Radke:

*untitled

pwp really, Ronnie meets Y/N in a bar and things happen

Vic Fuentes:

Hell Over Me (trigger warning) (happy ending)

Bodyguards and Boyfriends

Frank Iero:

Not A Kid *

TW brief mention of abuse, age gap. Y/N works for MCR and it turns out Frank likes her just as much as she likes him

Gerard Way:

Cemetery Drive

TW for suicide and self harm. Y/N visits her ex’s grave, and is surprised to find him there

Hang Em High

Cemetery drive part 2

Demolition Lovers

Part 3 and final chapter of Cemetery Drive

Kisses and Coffee

Coffee shop and accidental kiss AU

Dean Winchester:

Life In (Rose) Pink

Dean is a romantic cliche trying his hardest

Chris Motionless:

Eternally Yours *

Based on the music video

Jinx:

You Decide

Reader has a breakdown and Jinx helps them

Timebomb (jinx x ekko):

Into the Sunset

Jinx and Ekko sail off into the sunset together after declaring their love (following the end of season 2)

Jack Dawkins/Dodger:

Healing Kiss *

Reader is in hospital, but Dr. Dawkins is there to heal her. TW for self harm, suicide and mentions of abuse.

Healing Kiss part 2 *

Smut ensues after part 1, it's very lovey-dovey

Spike:

Mr. Bloody Brightside

Spike has a pity-party when he thinks Y/N likes someone else, only to be very wrong

[infinitify]

born with a broken heart by damiano david really reminds me of how to be’s rivetra (levi’s pov)😭 like I’ve been thinking about it since the very first moment i heard the snippet, but waited for the whole song to come out just in case yk?

i was even thinking on making a fanart of it, but i got really mixed on how to reference both things at the same time, and i’m honestly out of ideas. so i was wondering, is there a specific scene/moment you would like to see represented? 👉🏻👈🏻 i don’t promise a lot bc i’m currently trying to get out of an art slump, but i’ll see what can i make no matter how long it takes!!

p.d: i really love your story!💕

hello!! what a gorgeous song, absolutely rivetra to its core 😭

i'm so honoured that you're entrusting me to get you out of this art slump 🥹 i love it when you guys make art of the story, it really warms my heart! if you want to draw something angst, maybe do the kitchen scene where they finally kiss? or any of the bar scenes if you want to draw petra being cheeky? 😩

whatever comes of it, i'll love it either way, so go right ahead!

thanks for reaching out x

[splinteredhq]

CHARACTER NAME: loki laufeyson CHARACTER FACECLAIM: damiano david CHARACTER AGE/DOB: 13th november 2000, just turned 23 years old CHARACTER PRONOUNS/GENDER IDENTITY/SEXUALITY ETC: he/him, they/them, or she/her. genderfluid. bisexual/romantic + polyam OC OR CANON: canon but not to this universe CHARACTER PROFESSION IF RELEVANT: there's some lowkey kinda socialite kinda vibes here,, u know,, this mans a Rich Bitch with some vague political connections etc through his family too SCHOOL ATTENDED & HOUSE IF RELEVANT: hogwarts, slytherin ALIGNMENT (the order/death eaters/etc) + GENERAL OPINIONS ON THE WAR/THEIR SIDE: it's,,, complicated. yes he's death eater aligned, no he's not exactly Loud about it. his family Know though and it only adds to more of the friction and tension between them. loki is kinda,,, looking for a way Out though because he feels like he's gotten in too deep CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY:

loki is a born vampire, the odd one out in a family of regular wizards. loki was adopted stolen as a baby, taken from a clan of vampires that were brutally killed in a 'war' (read: they were extremely loud in what they are and odin, leader of a family of hunters, said 'fuck that noise' bc hes an asshole and killed them all but frigga convinced him to spare the child). his family are a lot Less involved in that shit now and leaned more into politics throughout loki's life, but it still meant loki grew up feeling like the black sheep, the odd one out in his family.

loki makes up for a lot of his displaced feelings by being an intense overachiever both in life and academics. he also chose to go to hogwarts, to move away from home and what he knew in order to get some further separation from his father in particular and carve his own life for himself. it was scary leaving everything behind, but loki always deems it worthwhile to gain his independence.

due to his familial connections and fantastic, unique skills in physical magic, shapeshifting and potions, loki was approached in his sixth year of study to join the death eaters. this resulted in a very messy breakup with his 5th-6th year boyfriend and we sob forever over the angst of it. definitely won't be more to say on That later,, not at all,,, definitely no angst threads to come--

registered as an animagus in 6th year too, his form is a snake! distinguishing feature is a patch of silvery/blueish scales that stand out from the dark

doesn't support pureblood bullshit at all, especially since he's a vampire, but he's willing to eat up whatever the death eaters promote and say in order to find a place, somewhere he thinks he'll belong.

in the past few months, his loyalties have been swaying. seeing the truth of lord voldemort and what the death eaters must do-- what kind of horrific acts they deem right to achieve their goals… it's left him feeling a little ugly. he never wanted to be a monster, but he now feels like one. the sense of belonging he once felt, the way voldemort took him under his wing… it's all gotten a bit jaded and ugly. he wants an escape, but he's terrified and wonders if it's even possible.

more vamp lore to come as love and i update the doc!

ADMIN ALEX APP

[l0standn0tf0und-fics]

your camera roll if damiano david was your boyfriend

masterlist

[literallymitch]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐃.𝐃

Requested: No

Summary: You’re on Tour with Damiano, but he becomes distant.

Pairing: Damiano David x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Angst

a/n This is a song imagine to Little Mix’ “Love me or leave me” if you want you can listen to it while reading. Please keep in mind english isn’t my first language. I’m happy about feedback of any kind.

You used to tell me that you loved me once What happened? What happened? Where is all of this coming from? What happened? What happened?

Since I just finished uni, I decided to go on tour with my boyfriend Damiano and his Band Måneskin. We have been together for over a year now. Throughout the time the Band became like a family to me. Vic, Ethan and Thomas called us their cool parents sometimes because we acted like ones. Well sometimes Damiano was acting like a five-year old too, but I love that goofy side about him. In fact, I love everything about him. Our relationship felt like a beautiful dream. A dream I never want to wake-up from.

Lately things changed. Damiano became kind of distant and cold. I am not the only one who noticed that. Everyone in the team noticed. They asked me what was wrong with him, but I knew just as much as them. Damiano rarely talked to me. He didn't even say I love you anymore. He used to do that at least once a day. I had no idea what was wrong. We did not have a fight nor did anything else happen, what could have caused this.

You say I'm crazy and there's nothing wrong You're lying and you know I know Baby, what have we become? What happened?

I decided things could not go on like this. I approached him when he was sitting alone in their dressing room.

"Bub what is wrong? You've been so distant lately. The others and I are worried."

"Don't worry everything is fine." He lied and left the room.

He knew that I knew he was lying. I know him too good for that. After a while, I asked him again. Seeing him so distant from everyone broke my heart. He was usually like a little ray of sunshine that made everyone smile. Now I rarely see him smile. The only time he seems genuinely happy is when he is performing. I really started to worry, so I asked him again.

"Love seriously what's wrong. You know you can always talk to me."

"Babe listen I am just a bit stressed right now ok? I need some time for myself so if you excuse me."

The passive aggressive tone in his voice did not go unnoticed by me. Before I could even say something else, he was gone again.

You can take this heart Heal it or break it all apart No, this isn't fair Love me or leave me here Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh Love me or leave me here

I was already lying in bed while Damiano was still in the shower. After our "talk" today, we haven't really talked again. Prior to the show I wished him and the others good luck, like I always do. I only got a small smile from him that did not even seem genuine. I really have no idea what was wrong. When did we become like this? We used to tell each other everything.

Before I could think about it further, Damiano came out of the bathroom. He laid down next to me without even acknowledging me. He turned to his side, his back now facing me. I felt my heart shatter at that moment. No good night, nothing.

My mind wandered back to time he used to hold me tightly in his arms, kissing my forehead every now and then. Telling me about his day until I got too tired. He would kiss my temple one last time and whisper  a 'Good night I love you angel'. Again I asked myself what went wrong. I also turned to my other side. The first tears already creeping down my cheeks. Slowly I cried my self to sleep, thinking about things were just a month ago.

Do you remember when you loved me once? What happened? What happened? And you'd hold me here just because What happened?

When I woke up the next day, Damiano was already gone. I checked my phone and decided to get ready since we would leave for the venue in 20 minutes. On our way there I sat next to Thomas who showed me a pretty funny video on YouTube. My good mood went away just as quick as it came when I looked at Damiano. He was staring at his phone while he listened to some music. I looked back at Thomas phone watching the video. Well at least that's what I tried to do.  My mind kept wandering back to old memories Damiano and I made over the past year.

At the arena I tried to talk to Damiano again. I didn't even care if we just talked about the weather. I just wanted to talk. I just wanted to have him close.I wasn't even sure if he still loved me or even wanted me in his life.

"Bub do you have a-"

He just walked straight past me not even paying attention to me at all. At that moment it felt like someone just ripped my heart out of my chest and stumped on it. I rushed outside and sat down on some stairs that where close to the venue. I started crying. Memories flooding back into my mind.

"Do you want to join us on Tour?"

Damiano and I laid on the couch in his living room watching Heathers. My head rested on his chest and I looked up to him.

"Are you serious" I asked him in total disbelieve.

"Yes I am. You're done with Uni now and I'd love to have you around. I'm pretty sure the others would be happy as well to have you there with us!"

"If that's so then YESS OF COURSE!!" I said while pulling him into a hug.

Damiano looked in my eyes and I could see the adoration he had for me in his eyes.

"God I love you so much angel."

"I love you too bub"

Then he showered me in kisses showing me how much he loved me. I felt like happiest girl in the world at that moment.

The tears were just streaming down my face now thinking back to this moment. Back then he still loved me. Back then he still wanted me in his life.

I don't know how long I have been sitting there crying but after what felt like an eternity, Ethan came to me. He didn't say anything. He just pulled me into his arms rubbing my back. I sobbed into his shoulder, trying to let out all the pain I felt in my chest right now.

" I-I don't know what to do anymore. It's like I don't even exist to him anymore."

"I noticed that too and you don't deserve that at all. You are so lovely and supportive, like you are always there for him being his number one supporter. I wish I could tell you what got into his head but I can't."

"At this point I don't even care why he's acting like this anymore. I just want to have him close again. Not being able to be near him is slowly killing me."

"I understand y/n. You know I could beat his ass, you just have to ask. We both know I would beat him in an 1 vs. 1."

We both started laughing. Ethan really is the sweetest human being on earth. Like he usually wouldn't even hurt a fly, but he would literally kill for a person he loves.

"Thank you Eth. I feel better now, but I don't think I will stay for the show today."

"You really don't have to thank me for that. I'll get someone that will bring you back to the hotel, love you sorella."

We used to never go to bed angry But it's all we ever do lately You're turning away like you hate me Do you hate me? Do you hate me? Oh

As soon as Damiano stepped into our room, I could see that he was mad. I don't think I've ever seen him like this before. I looked back at my phone not wanting to provocate him even more.

"Oh no, don't you dare to ignore me now!"

I looked up from my phone being completely confused. He is the one ignoring me for almost two weeks now, he has no reason to be mad at me now.

"Don't look at me like you don't know what you did. You really had to put on a scene back at the venue. Ethan told me before the show that you left, because I didn't talk to you because I was busy and that I'm a bad boyfriend for treating you that way. Are you really that selfish that you had to start all this drama just because for once not everything was about you?"

Those words hurt me bad, but they made me even angrier.

"Selfish? You are calling me selfish? For the past year I did nothing but support you and the Band! Besides, I didn't even have to tell Ethan that you're treating me like I don't even exist right now, he figured that out himself. You don't even notice that you're treating everyone around you badly at the moment. You've been avoiding me for the past two weeks and since last night you completely ignored me. Everything just got too much today ok?"

"Well maybe I'm ignoring you because you've been extra annoying lately."

"How can I even annoy you when you don't even talk to me Damiano? Are you being serious right now?"

"Yes I am. I wish I wouldn't have asked you to join us on tour because all you do is stir up drama."

Ok that one really hurt. I looked in his eyes trying to figure out if he regretted saying what he said, but all I saw was anger. When I didn't say anything he just shook his head and went into the bathroom. I went back to bed turning away from the bathroom door. Just like last night the tears rolled down my cheeks again. When he came out of the bathroom I thought he would apologize for the things he said a few minutes ago, but he didn't. Instead, he just turned away again. I hated how things were right now. I hated that I started thinking he hated me.

Love me, baby, please 'Cause I could still be the only one you need The only one close enough to feel you breathe Yeah, I could still be that place where you run Instead of the one that you're running from, ooh

It has been almost a week now since Damiano and I had our fight. We have not talked since that night. He didn't even look in my direction anymore. Everyone knew something was up between us but no one dared to say something. I spent a lot of time with Vic, Ethan and Thomas. They often asked if I was okay. My answer was always the same a simple "Yes". I'm glad they didn't ask more questions since that only would break me even more. They just tried to cheer me up which I was very grateful for.

I thought a lot about Damianos and my relationship. Knowing that he just had to say a word and I'd be back in his arms again. I really wanted to be the person he felt like turning to whenever he felt down. I wanted to be the person that celebrated all his victories with him. I just wanted to be his person.

Lately I've come to the realization that  maybe I'm not his person. Maybe he doesn't want me to be his person. I hated that I did not know where we stood right now. It killed me. I was just waiting for him to give me his all or take it all away from me. It couldn't go on like this. I couldn't let him have this control over me and my emotions. It should be me deciding about my happiness and not him.

So even though I was still hoping he'd come to me and apologiz, so we could talk things through and be happy again, I made a decision. I was sitting in backstage with the other three when I completely made up my mind.

"I'm going to leave and head home today."

You can take this heart Heal it or break it all apart No, this isn't fair Love me or leave me here Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh Love me or leave me here

"Damiano can we talk?"

He was sitting in our hotel room looking at his phone.

"Not right now I'm busy.", he didn't even look up from his phone. Tears started to form in my eyes. This one would hurt badly.

"Damiano I'm going home now"

With a shocked expression he looked up from his phone. Finally looking in my eyes again after weeks.

"What do you mean, amore?"

"I mean that I'm going home now. The Taxi will be here any second."

"But you can't leave!"

"Why? It's not like you want me here anyway and I'm done seeing those pitiful looks from the others."

"Of course I want you here. I am sorry that I've been acting like I did the past few weeks Tour really got on my nerves. Please don't leave" tears were forming in his eyes now too.

He tried to reach for my hand, but I pulled it away.

"No Damiano you can't just treat me like shit for weeks and then just apologiz. It doesn't work like that."

"I know angel. Let me make it up to you. I'll do whatever you want just please stay."

He tried reaching for me again and again I pulled away.

"It's too late for that now. The only thing I want right now is that you give me some space. That shouldn't be to hard for you I guess.“

I could see how his heart was breaking and it broke mine even more. I hated seeing him like this but right now I had to think of myself. This whole thing already broke me enough, I couldn't let it destroy me.

"So are you breaking up with me?" he sounded so broken I just wanted to run into his arms and kiss him.

" Honestly I don't know. I just need some time for myself now."

I wiped away my tears and grabbed my bags. I walked to the door. Looking back one more time.

"Goodbye Damiano."

Then I walked through the door leaving the boy that I thought I'd marry someday behind broken.

This is for the best.

part 2