#put some hux and damien in there

[tiredandkindaoverworked]

HC: How the Redacted boys and their partners sleep together/night routine

——————————————————————————

David and Angel: Angel rests their head on his chest. David lays on his back and has an arm wrapped around their waist. David’s a moderately light sleeper and any time that Angel moves or makes noise, David will lull them back to sleep gently before falling asleep himself.

Asher and Baaaabe: Asher sprawls himself all over Babe, one leg spread on top of them. Babe absolutely loves that Asher does this. It makes them feel so protected and safe. Some nights, Babe traces the scars on Asher’s chest until they fall asleep.

Milo and Sweetheart: Milo loves to be the big spoon with Sweetheart. He often has a hand up their shirt, either gently tracing patterns into their skin or just holding onto them. He loves the skin contact.

Darlin’ and Sam: Due to Darlin’s stress and anxiety, they don’t quite have a normal sleep schedule, though that’s changing thanks to Mr. Collins. On nights where Darlin can’t sleep, Sam takes them both to the couch, puts on a movie, lays them back against his chest and they both fall asleep to Sam gently stroking their arms and sides.

Huxley and Damien: Damien dislikes being the little spoon because he’s always afraid of being too hot for Huxley. Hux insists he loves the heat, but doesn’t mind feeling Dames’ arms wrapped around him either. Before bed though, Hux is cradling Damien in his arms and giving him kisses.

Lasko and Dear: Lasko and Dear actually don’t sleep cuddled up a lot of the time. They sleep in the same bed, cuddling for hours before ending the night with a kiss and turning over. It works delightfully well for them, but there’s never a complaint in the morning if one of them ends up cuddling with the other.

Freelancer and Gavin: Gavin LOVES being pressed up against FL’s side. He absolutely adores the way he can tangle his hands in their hair and gently massage their scalp. They spend most nights wrapped in each other’s arms, face to face. Gav, not actually needing to sleep, will sometimes wait until FL falls asleep and commit himself to remembering every painstaking detail about Freelancer’s resting form.

Avior and Starlight: They sleep wrapped up in each other’s arms, legs tangled together. One might occasionally have their head on the other’s chest, but it’s usually Avior. Since he doesn’t have to sleep, he likes to lay his head on their chest and listen to their heartbeat, reminding him that they’re still there with him.

Aaron and Smartass: Smartass loves being pressed up against Aaron’s side, wrapping their arms around his waist. He’s somehow always the perfect temperature and the smell of his lotion leaves them wonderfully sleepy. Aaron also loves this because it gives him an excuse to give them his patented nose rubs.

Ollie and Baby: Baby often either gets very sleepy or actually does fall asleep when watching Ollie do things or play games. The quality time and watching Ollie do things he enjoys makes Baby all warm inside and in turn makes them super comfortable. Once Ollie’s done, he’ll gently get them to bed, tucking the both of them in, heads gently pressed together.

Guy and Honey: Guy LOVES sleeping on top of Honey. I’m not talking head on chest, he loves being their personal weighted blanket. Man’s a walking blanket fortress, bundling the two in many sheets, making a fort of cozy. Buuuuut, if fate is SO cruel to force this loving adoring man off of his Honey, he’ll enjoy being their little spoon.

Blake and Bestie: Full old timey nightgown, complete with the little hat and slippers. May even have an oil lantern. Sleeps vampire style, stiff as a board, arms crossed over chest.

KIDDING.

Blake loves having Bestie lay back against him, their head resting against his shoulder/upper arm. It gives him the perfect access to give them gentle temple kisses whenever he wants. He'll gently caress Bestie's sides until he feels them fall asleep before allowing himself to sleep as well.

Sometimes D’Deridahn’s also there in his mind, but Blake does his best to block him out and ignore him when his attention is on Bestie.

Priorities, amirite?

[poedays]

Misc Headcanons

- Since people have gotten used to the ‘weird dog’ that Babe owns, Asher and Babe will go on runs together while Ash’s in his wolf form. Sometimes they go to the beach and Asher plays around in the waves while Babe chases him around. They’re both smiling, they’re both laughing, they’re in love and no one even knows.

- Gavin will sometimes unconsciously mimic his friend’s features: suddenly his eyes are a warm, fiery brown and he stares at people with that deep rage and passion that Damien does. Sometimes he’ll need glasses, subtly complaining about his vision until he borrows Lasko’s to read something. He’ll change heights, somehow fitting into Hux’s hugs like two puzzle pieces being put together. He’ll get more piercings, borrowing some of Freelancer’s collection to flaunt them when they go out - only to go back to his usual amount as soon as they get home. Sometimes little white streaks will appear in his hair, mimicking the affects of Dear’s vitiligo.

- Porter sleeps with a stuffed animal. Sometimes he apologies so profusely to a version of himself that didn’t know death, that he sleeps with his tears pressed against his face when he holds his childhood stuffed animal close.

- Guy likes wearing flowy long skirts sometimes. Honey likes picking him up and spinning him around.

- Gabe and Colm used to play chess together, Colm knew all the method and madness of it. Gabe has never picked up a chess book in his life - he goes by instinct, thought, and pattern recognition. Colm may know the logical way to play, but Gabe will win for his mind. There’s a difference. “Relax it’s just a game” “It’s not a game, it’s chess.” Something about their views in life.

[polydamnory]

Poly D.A.M.N. Crew Headcanons (because I’m legally required to)

Once again, some of these could also apply outside the context of them being in a polycule and that works too lol

Freelancer will paint any of the others nails if they’ll let them (Hux and Gavin let them do it the most) 

Dear and Gavin made it a weekly thing to have lunch together on campus 

In the event that they were to all live together, Damien is usually the one in charge of  grocery shopping - mainly because of all of them, he’s the most particular about what brands they use for certain products/foods. Also you can’t tell me this man isn’t a master at budgeting/couponing. 

Damien and Huxley aren’t allowed to team up when they do chicken fights in the pool anymore - they’re both arguably some of the strongest of the group (they’re constantly working out after all) and after winning literally every time except against Gavin, the rest of them declared the rule that they have to team up with the others to make it fair. Hux just rolled with it but Damien still acts all cocky about it whenever it gets brought up. 

They try to do a movie night every two weeks and cycle through who gets to pick what they watch each time. Lasko made a chart to track it and everything. Lasko has also tried and succeeded only once in getting everyone to agree to a full on Lord of the Rings extended edition marathon despite trying again several times afterwards. Dear has been the only one to agree to do it again afterwards - not that the rest don’t like the movies, they just don’t think they’ll be willing to marathon them like that again. 

Gavin and Freelancer are the resident “distractors” and get kicked out of the kitchen fairly frequently because half the time they’re helping cook they end up “doing things” with the other person in there 👀

Huxley likes playing with the others hair if they’ve given the okay for it - he already knew how to braid and the like, but at some point he began learning how to do more complicated hairstyles and likes doing them for his partners 

Dear and Damien end up having to team up and ensure everyone else is wearing sunblock - Damien does not listen to Gavin when he says that as a demon he doesn’t need it, he has to put some on 

When struggling to find someone or something out in public, especially in large crowd, Huxley has gotten into the habit of just kind of grabbing one of his partners and putting them on his shoulder so they can get a higher vantage point 

Huxley came up with the idea that they should all show Gavin stuff they enjoyed from growing up, whether that be shows, movies, or going places typically meant for youths, because “just because you didn’t actually have a childhood doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get to experience one.” They took him to a bouncy castle park and got a good laugh at how uncharacteristically ungraceful he was. 

They all had to basically flee an ice skating rink when they all tried to go together. Gavin wouldn’t stop teasing/flustering Damien and he accidentally melted a portion of the rink. It was an unempowered run rink so the chance of them getting caught/blamed wasn’t too high but they all still ended up fleeing like their lives depended on it. 

They are all constantly stealing Huxley’s clothes to wear. It’d bother him if he didn’t think it was really hot to see them in it.

They've been trying to branch out in the types of games they play together and one genre they’ve been experimenting with is survival games. They’ve tried a few but the one they all seem to like the most is Raft and it gets chaotic. It’s not a strict rule or anything but they’ve also all sort of fell into their own unspoken roles for it: Huxley is always the go to for gathering supplies on islands, Damien’s typically either doing home defense or off trying to kill one of the hostile mobs (the poison-puffer always drives him crazy), Dear’s gathering the underwater supplies because obviously, Freelancer is in charge of gardening and cooking the food, Lasko’s on a hundred different websites and wikis making sure they don’t miss anything/actually know what they’re doing as well as navigation, and while Gavin spends most of his time pretty evenly helping everybody else out, he most often is gathering the supplies from the water, or, on occasion, fishing. (Sorry not sorry that this one only really makes sense to those who also play Raft/watch others play it lol)

[keylimeextract]

D.A.M.N Crew Headcanons:

(Pets Addition!)

(This ended up being a lot longer than i originally thought it would be, so i'm going to be putting the rest of it under the cut, sorry!)

•Huxley:

Huxley owns a bearded dragon! I think that he would like a pet thats fairly easy-going, something that he can just sit and chill with while he read or writes. it would be spoiled rotten too, of course. Huge tank, multiple heat lamps, plenty of places for it to hide, and climb, and burrow. He'll occasionally take it outside and sit with it in his garden, letting it soak in all the natural sunlight. Damien has also caught him multiple times trying to teach it tricks. Hux read online somewhere that they can be taught simple commands, and he ran with the idea of his beardie learning to fetch. Its going about as well as you think it would. Oh well. they both seem happy.

•Damien:

I don't really see Damien as a big pet person to be honest! He would be one of those people that makes a big fuss about not wanting a pet because it would, "destroy the house" or he would try and pull the, "we don't have enough space for a pet" card, but eventually, after some heavyyy convincing from Hux, he gets one (begrudgingly of course). And, not because he likes it or anything, he buys it a cute little collar, and some fancy new bowls, and a new bed. And, not because he cares about it or anything, he lets it sleep with him and Huxley in bed(purely because Huxley likes to cuddle with it, of course). And, it’s solely a coincidence, that when their new pet comes running between their feet during dinner, he just so happens to clumsily drop a small bit of human food on the floor…But yea, no, he's definitely not a big pet person.

•Gavin:

Gavin also doesn't seem like much of a pet person to me! He's less of the Damien type about it though, he won’t feign disintrest in a cute new puppy or a skittish little rabbit. He would like something simple to care for though. I could see Gavin with a cat! Just imagine it, Freelancer coming home after a long day at DAMN, silently praying Gav had already done the chores they have been trying to ignore for the past few days. They unlock the door and step into their cozy little apartment. Finally. The bag gets thrown to the floor, shoes hurriedly come off and. Oh. Theres Gavin. On the couch. Half asleep and cuddled up with their cat. They reach over and gently hold the side of his face, silently asking if they can join them. Ha, as if they had to ask.

•Freelancer:

Freelancer seems like the type of person to own a dog! They love going out with Gavin and walking it around the neighborhood. I can also see them taking Caelum out on walks with them as well! He loves seeing how fast he can run, and tries to race the dog up the sidewalk of the street. He still hasn't won. Yet. Freelancer thinks its funny to watch as Gavin tries not to look insane while running after a child who seemingly isn't there. The walk home is their favorite part, though. Getting inside, all tired and cuddled up on the couch with their little family. It makes the rest of the world feel so small. After all the chaos in the beginning of their little adventure, they love the peace they get to feel running their hands lazily through their dogs fur.

•Lasko:

I think Lasko would be one of those people to be really into collecting things, which is why i think he would be one of those bug collectors. I know in one of the Reductive Audio videos he was assigned as that one picture of the person holding that huge snail (LOL) so maybe thats why, but I just love the idea of Lasko of all people having these interesting pets! He loves them more than anything, you just know. He's done all the research before hand on all of their care needs and he knows all of the exact temperatures and conditions each of his bug children needs to thrive. When Dear first came over, he was a bit nervous that they would be, well, a bit nervous around his pets, but after they got over their initial weariness, they actually think they're kinda cute. Kinda. Seeing Lasko's eyes light up as he nervously infodumped about blue death feigning beetles definitely made them seem a little less intimidating. A little.

•Dear:

Dear is another person I could see having an unconventional pet! I think they would have a snake, specifically a ball python! Dear thinks that their little puppy dog faces are so cute, and is definitely one of those pet parents whose camera roll is full of pictures of their pet doing absolutely nothing. They would carry it around their neck while they're doing simple chores around the house and grading classwork. I can also see them and Lasko bonding over their weird pets and how misunderstood they are! They take turns showing each other their enclosures and trying to get each other more comfortable holding their respective pet(s). Lasko finds it relaxing to stroke their snakes scales; Dear finds it manageable to hold the stick bug...for a few seconds. they're getting there.

(This is my first time writing something like this, I hope that isn't too obvious haha! Thank you for reading!❤︎)

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

all you have is your fire

Ao3 | 10k Words | Damien's POV

Damien had thought about falling asleep in Huxley’s arms many, many times, but never like this. Bleeding profusely from three, several foot long lacerations spanning from the edges of his jaw to the middle of his chest, barely conscious, listening to Hux breathe raggedly around the edges of panic and exhaustion. And Lasko was definitely never involved.

___

After the Inversion, Damien goes home. He tries to hold it all together. Instead, everything falls apart.

Huxley helps. Sofia makes everything worse.

TW: Inversion, scars, OCD, compulsive behavior, sleep deprivation, disordered eating, weight loss, abusive parent, emotional distress, internalized homophobia, homophobic slurs (used against oneself)

Damien had thought about falling asleep in Huxley’s arms many, many times, but never like this. Bleeding profusely from three, several foot long lacerations spanning from the edges of his jaw to the middle of his chest, barely conscious, listening to Hux breathe raggedly around the edges of panic and exhaustion. And Lasko was definitely never involved. 

But eventually, he did fall asleep. Well, maybe he passed out, but that was just semantics. The point was, when he closed his eyes, his nose was pressed into the junction of Huxley’s neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of his sweat and fear and that earthy, subtle cologne that Damien could never quite place. And when he woke up, he was laid out in a scratchy, uncomfortable hospital bed, his skin stiff and dry from rubbing alcohol and slap stick, messy healing. 

Oh, and the loudest snoring he’d ever heard was setting off ringing in his right ear. 

“We’re going on hour three, now.” 

“Mother,” Damien couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. His voice was thick and lazy on his tongue. “You flew back out?” She was sitting to his left, clad in a pressed, maroon suit. She looked for all the world to be perfectly put together, except that her bangs were mussed across her forehead. Except that there was a crease between her eyebrows that he had only seen in elementary school when he had fallen off of the monkey bars at the playground and broke his humorous clean in half. 

The silhouette of calm was there, but the details were off, and his mother was nothing if not detail-oriented. 

She was worried. Very worried. 

“My boy was trapped in a bubble with a bunch of monsters.” She shrugged and smoothed out a wrinkle in her skirt. “I took the first flight back.” 

“Is it bad?” He asked softly. He pressed his hand to his chest. There wasn’t any gauze, no bandages, just a stiff hospital gown. He didn’t dare crane his neck to see, didn’t try to assess the damage himself. He felt small and scared. 

“Healing magic is incredible stuff.” His mom tapped her phone impatiently, clearing a few text notifications from her lockscreen. It was a picture of the two of them from his high school graduation. “But you were badly cut.” 

“Clawed,” He corrected. “Never thought I’d get clawed by something.” 

“Yes, well,” his mom smiled softly, “my point stands. The… lacerations were deep and long. They healed the majority of the damage as soon as you got here, but you lost a good amount of blood, and you’ll need some more healing to mitigate the scarring.”

“I don’t care about the scaring.” He replied. If he had said that sentence a day ago, it would have been a lie. But it wasn’t. Not now. There was too much running rampant like smokey monsters in his mind to care about scars. He turned his head and caught sight of Huxley, his large frame pressed into a compact hospital recliner. He looked to have cleaned the dust and blood from his face. Somebody had given him a new t-shirt, and the gray fabric stretched snugly against his crossed arms. His forearms were scraped where they mostly covered the D.A.M.N. HEALING HONORS SOCIETY logo across his chest. He was still wearing the pants to his E&E Games tracksuit. Damien could see where the black material had gone stiff and dark with blood. 

“He’s loud.” His mother said, shifting in her seat. “And he hovers like a lost puppy.” 

“Leave him alone.” He replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s perfect.” 

“Hmm.” She hummed, inspecting her fingernails. Damien could tell before she opened her mouth that she was about to say something sharp and painful. He held his breath and braced for impact. “He’s leaving.” She said. “Going home. His mothers called while you were being stitched back together. So don’t get too used to the noise.” 

His heart stuttered a bit in his chest. Every time he looked away, Damien felt his nerves alight and begin to search for Huxley’s aura. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if Huxley left, how his panic would drive him insane. Huxley had been right there, at his back when he needed him since they’d met. He’d been there for the hours and days and years that they were trapped in that ward. Damien couldn’t bear to imagine him missing, couldn’t imagine the ringing left in his eardrums once it all went quiet. 

“He’ll come back.” Damein replied easily. His mother sighed and stood, brushing her hair back. 

“They said you could leave this afternoon. You’ll come home.” 

Damien knew better than to argue with his mother, not when he was stuck in an incredibly flammable bed in a room with an oxygen machine. He’d break the news to her later. There was no chance in hell she’d get him away from Dahlia without physically dragging him, and that was much too undignified for her. 

He stopped listening after that, and eventually his mother claimed that she was going to speak to a healer or consult a nurse or something. It was just an excuse to escape the heavy tension in the room. Damein stared at Huxley’s twitching form until his eyes were too heavy to keep open. He hadn’t stopped snoring, even as the room’s temperature rose a few degrees. Damien was grateful for the noise. Eventually, it lulled him into an uneven, dreamless sleep.

Huxley was gone when he woke. 

__

It was Huxley who called in the end, a week and some change after Damien had been discharged and three days after he’d finally gotten his mother to leave town. He had thought about it plenty of times, sure. He’d hovered his thumb over Huxley’s contact a dozen times since he’d been left alone with his thoughts, but he never went through with it. He couldn’t bear to. He couldn’t bear to break the tenuous silence that had overtaken his apartment. 

But Huxley did. Damien was sat on the floor of his living room when he felt his phone vibrating. He hadn’t gotten himself to sit on the couch since his mother left. He couldn’t get into bed. He couldn’t use his kitchen, couldn’t dirty a cup. Mother had left the place spotless. She had him scrubbing the floors a day after his chest was opened up by a creature from Death. After she’d gone, he couldn’t disturb the perfection she left behind. 

Huxley’s contact photo filled up his screen. It was a poorly taken selfie of the two of them walking home from the gym late one night. Damien’s stress-induced insomnia was almost always cured by a work out session at the twenty-four hour gym near Huxley’s apartment building. He didn’t always tell Hux he was going, but he when he did, Hux would drag himself out of bed at ungodly hours just to keep Damien company. Huxley always insisted on walking Damien back to his own place, seven blocks in the opposite direction. The photo was blurry and dark, and Hux had this huge, lopsided grin on his face that made Damien’s chest ache. His own brow was pinched in frustration as he tried to swipe his phone back. Huxley was so much taller than him. 

He answered before he had time to really consider what he was going to say. He’d been rehearsing an angry rant in the mirror for a few days now. It was full of ‘how dare you’s and ‘you disappear after everything’s, but now that he was faced with actually saying any of it, the words died in his mouth. 

They had been through an ordeal. Hux wanted to leave? That was fine. He was entitled to see his moms. He was entitled to crawl home after being beaten into the ground. He was entitled to mourn, to wail, to hurt. 

Damien couldn’t find it in himself to deny him that. Not even at the expense of his own peace.

He was angry. He could feel the heat coming off of his cheek where his fingers curled around his phone. In any other scenario, he would have been ranting by now. If it were anybody else, the bridge would be burning at his back in a moment. But this was Huxley. 

“Hey,” Hux’s voice came through the speaker softly, deeper than Damien remembered it. He’d only been gone a week and Damien was already sick of the silence he left behind. He sounded so tired. 

“Hey,” Damein replied. The anger extinguished in his chest. 

__

Huxley came home two weeks later. Damien was waiting at the airport with a ride. In the almost month that he’d been gone, Huxley’s student housing had lapsed and he hadn’t been sure he was coming back. That meant that he had no apartment, his shit was crammed into a teammate’s tiny dorm, and he had no real plans for what to do next. 

And that meant, of course, that he’d be crashing with Damein until he figured it all out.

Huxley looked smaller than he had before as he dropped his bags in a heap on Damein’s living room floor. He heaved out a heavy sigh and massaged his hand into the tense plane of his shoulders. Damien couldn’t help but stare at the line of his throat as it bobbed with his voice. 

“Your apartment is so clean.” He breathed out a half-hearted laugh. 

“Yeah,” Damein said softly. “My… my mother was in town.” Huxley looked around the room carefully. 

“Yeah like… three weeks ago.” 

Damien cocked his head to the side and followed Huxley’s gaze around the room. He’d been eating food straight out of the box or from styrofoam take out containers, so there were no dishes in his sink. He’d scrubbed that thing out until his fingers ached. He’d been taking showers at the gym so all of the bottles were still perfectly arranged where his mother had left them. The sheets on his bed were still creased precisely in her military folds. 

“Dude,” Huxley said. His big hand landed gently on Damien’s shoulder. There was plenty of room for him to step out of the touch. His instinct screamed at him to back off, to get away from the contact, but he was starkly aware of the fact that he didn’t want to. His muscle memory was warring with what he wanted, what he needed. He leaned into the touch despite himself. “Take a load off. This is your home, right?” 

Over the course of the next week, Damien came to the horrible realization that Huxley was messy. Not dirty, not disgusting. He cleaned his dishes and didn’t leave dirty clothes on the ground. Maybe messy wasn’t the right word. He… took up space. He spread out on the couch, moved the pillows, tossed the throw blankets over his legs when he got cold. 

Damien was probably being anal retentive, but every time he watched Huxley exist in his space, something in his chest sparked to start a fight. He didn’t. He swallowed down the smoke that bubbled up in his throat and didn’t let it spill out. 

Hux talked every second that he could, filled in the dead space. He sang little songs, snippets of verses that he didn’t remember correctly. Damien woke one morning, not sure when he’d gone to sleep, to Hux’s voice, low and tone deaf. 

“All you have is your fire…” 

__

When he did sleep, Damien slept on the floor. His bed was a king, large enough to comfortably accommodate him, and as soft and luxurious as a bed could be. He had reveled in it before the games, kept a precise sleeping schedule, enjoyed the occasional lazy morning in his heavenly, light sheets and breathable blankets. It was one of his favorite things. 

Once the healing magic wore off, every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was swaths of shadowy figures, razor sharp claws, breathy screams and moans filling up every inch of space in his head. So he slept as little as possible. 

His bed was too soft. It was too comfortable. It was so warm and soft around him. He couldn’t help but sleep when he laid down. At least on the floor, with the hardwood cold and digging into his hip and shoulder, his sleep was shallow and tenuous. 

Huxley was there for nearly two weeks before Damien’s body finally caught up with him. He’d managed to get by on a handful of hours a night if that, always startling awake before the sun rose. Huxley somehow slept like a log, legs hanging over the arm of his couch, snores loud enough to shake the whole fucking apartment. It must have been the noise, Damien thought, that helped him sleep. His place had been so quiet before Huxley got home. Now that he was close again, now that Damien’s body knew that he was there no matter the time of day or night, it couldn’t help but relax. 

He laid down, back cracking and sore, on the hardwood of his bedroom floor. He didn’t bother with a blanket or pillow despite the chill outside. January had come on fast and the cold hadn’t let up since the Moonbound Solstice. He couldn’t feel it anymore, not really, not like he had that night. The edges of it crept up on him sometimes when he wasn’t paying attention, curling around his toes and fingers, the tips of his ears and nose. 

His eyes were so heavy. He intended to stretch his back out before finishing up the last of the paperwork he needed to apply to his summer internships. He was sure to be offered more than one, most certainly the position in his mother’s office. He was a week ahead of the deadline, but if he didn’t get it all turned in soon, she would start calling him about it. He thought that if he had to listen to her lecture about the Rhone name being dragged through the mud by his late application, he would actually blow a fuse. He squeezed his eyes shut, frustration and heat flaring up in his chest when he thought about her. 

He opened his eyes and Huxley was hovering over him, big, warm hands framing Damien’s face, his voice high and tense with concern. 

“Hey,” he said softly, “hey, easy, easy, you’re okay! You’re okay!” 

“What-” he realized his voice was raw as he tried to speak. He sat up too quickly, his head spinning. Fuck, he was exhausted. It was dark out. Did he fall asleep? Or was Huxley just crazy fast and quiet? 

“You’re okay,” Huxley said again, his hands still hovering over Damien as he shifted. Damien noted, somewhere in his foggy brain, that Huxley slept shirtless, even when it was cold. He wanted to curl up in that chest again, to fall asleep in his arms. 

His mother’s voice sounded in the back of his mind; fag. 

“It was just a dream, dude.” Huxley said. He was talking low, his voice intentionally quiet, like Damien was a wounded animal he was trying desperately not to spook. “It’s over. You’re safe.”

“I know that.” Damien snapped. He ran his fingers through his mused hair, pushed it out of his face. “I’m… I’m fine, Hux. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep. I’m sorry I woke you.” 

Huxley stared at him for a moment, his face pinched in something like confusion. 

“You were screaming.” Huxley said softly. “Screaming for me. I thought… I don’t know. I guess I thought you were dying.” 

Damien didn’t know what the fuck to say to that. 

__

Huxley made waffles the next moring, and they were fucking delicious. Damien didn’t make a habit of eating shit like waffles, of course. Too much sugar, and he did his best to stay away from carbs as often as possible. But when Damien emerged from his room the next morning, there was a plate stacked high with homemade waffles waiting for him. They were topped with powdered sugar and fresh fruit and Hux had found his seldom used gravy boat to serve some brand new, store bought syrup out of. How cute. 

“I thought we could use a little pick-me-up.” Huxley smiled. Damien hated when he did that, said we when he meant you. He swallowed his protests as Huxley trucked food over to the breakfast nook that only seated two. He placed a cup in front of Damien as he sat, too big for his chair. 

“Is this…”

“I went down to that little coffee place Lasko likes.” Huxley admitted it like a secret, blushing handsomely as he looked away. Damien took a tentative sip from the little recyclable paper straw sticking out of the plastic take-out cup. He nearly melted at the taste. 

“You remembered my order?” He asked. 

“Well, yeah.” Huxley smiled gently. “I wrote it down in my phone.” 

Damien ate his waffles. They were fucking good. They filled in a hole he didn’t know was sitting in his gut. He hadn’t exactly been eating all that much since the games, given that nearly everything made him nauseous. Not this, though. This just made him feel… warm. 

He cleaned up. Huxley was a messy person and an even messier cook. He offered to clean up after himself, but Damien insisted. It didn’t feel polite to make him do all the work when he’d made Damien such a nice breakfast.

He washed each plate three times. Three felt good. Three felt safe. 

He scrubbed the counter with a sponge and soap to make sure any flour or batter was really gone from the dark marble surface. But then he began to worry about bacteria in the sponge. It was new and it didn’t smell, but he couldn’t be sure. He tossed the sponge and grabbed a sanitizing wipe from under the sink. Then he worried about bleach or whatever the fuck chemicals they put in those things getting on his cutting board or in his food. He was halfway through wetting a paper towel to wipe down the counter for the third time- three felt good, three felt safe- when Huxley interrupted him. 

“Hey Dames,” he said, and fuck, he could hear that nickname roll off of Huxley’s lips a million times and not grow tired of it, “want to go… like do something? Like um… what about a bookstore?” 

“A bookstore?” Damien parroted back. “Do you… do you like bookstores?” 

“I mean…” Huxley laughed, “I don’t know. I’m not like… one hundred percent sure I’ve ever been in one.” 

“Well I’m not dragging you around to bookstores just for my benefit.” 

“We can do something else.” Huxley said in a hurry. “Just… I don’t know. I’d love to get out of the apartment for a little bit. Spend some time with you.” 

Damien swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

“Let’s go for a run.” He said softly. 

__

Damien ran in this park nearly every day. It was quiet, especially in the early morning, tucked away from the roads and only accessible on foot. A paved running track circled a man-made pond, surrounded on three sides by a tree line meant to mimic the natural world, but just this side of too-thin to do so. It was cold out, and the early morning sun hadn’t yet melted the frost that consumed the browned grass surrounding the lake. Steam seemed to rise off of Damien’s exposed shoulders, what used to be a too-tight compression tank top falling a bit looser around his chest and stomach. He tried not to think about it. The cold crept in around him, phantom sensation biting at his exposed skin. 

It wasn’t real. He didn’t feel the cold. If he did, there was something very wrong with him. There was nothing wrong with him. 

Huxley was faster than Damien expected him to be. As big as Huxley was (and he was big, a fact that Damien’s brain couldn't seem to get away from in its current state), he didn’t sacrifice mobility for strength. That much Damien knew already, of course. He’d been pulled along, their hands latched together in a vice grip, across the whole of the E&E field. He had been shocked then by how quickly Huxley could move, but chalked it up to adrenaline. As they jogged down the paved path that wound through the park, though, he found that it was not a fluke.

Damien wasn’t slow. He reveled in cardio. He loved running. It wrung him free of the constant shake in his muscles, set a burn under his skin that he didn’t have to try and control. He had participated in a few 5k’s since moving to Dahlia, and finished in second in one of them. He was no slouch. He took his hobbies just as seriously as he took everything else. 

So it surprised him when Huxley easily outpaced him, his stride half-jog and his breath easy, while Damien struggled to maintain his unsteady trot. The lack of sleep was catching up to him. Everything seemed too difficult, every movement of his body too strenuous. He was so tired that he could likely lay down in the frosted, early morning grass and sleep while the sun rose and set. It would warm him, at least. He was so fucking cold. 

There was nothing wrong with him.

There was nothing wrong with him. 

There was nothing wrong with him. 

Threes felt good. Threes felt safe. 

He hadn’t realized that Huxley stopped until he ran face first into him. Hux let out a panicked little sound and wrapped a steady arm around Damien’s waist as he stumbled, planting his hands firmly on Hux’s chest. He flushed, stepping back. Hux’s touch went with him, big fucking hands wrapping around his hips. 

“Easy,” Hux said softly, “sorry, dude, I didn’t mean to stop so fast.” 

“No, fuck,” Damien shook his head, his palms still burning with the feeling of Huxley’s chest. Pervert, his mother’s voice accused. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Huxley’s hands flexed on his hips, those wide, soft eyes flicking over his form before retreating. Hux managed a smile when he looked up and met Damien’s eyes. 

“Are you… cold?” He asked softly. Damien drew his arms up around himself, defensively tried to block him out. “It’s just… you’re shaking, dude.” 

“I’m fine.” Damien snapped, suddenly defensive. “I can’t get cold. Fire elemental.” 

“Right.” Hux nodded, his face still plainly concerned. It made Damien nauseous to watch the crease form between his brows. 

“What made you stop, anyway?” Damien huffed, desperate to change the subject. 

“Oh,” Huxley’s face split into an overt grin. He was distracted, it seemed, from whatever had bothered him about touching Damien in the first place. It was his heat, Damien knew it. Nobody touched him for long, not unless they were a fire too. He made people sweat. He had burned people before. He could hardly blame Huxley for staying away. “I heard a bird call. A red-winged blackbird.” 

Damien cocked his head as Hux paused, pointing towards the underbrush of the scant tree line. He waited, holding his breath, as the sounds of the birds and small animals around them washed over him. He’d never once stopped a run to listen to the birds. 

Then, a shrill, shrieking call rang across the early morning air, like a disk scratching in the middle of a song. A pause, then another call. Finally, the underbrush rustled, and a small, black body erupted from the cover. Damien watched, eyes wide, and caught a flash of red as its wings fluttered frantically, carrying it over the trees and away from the park.

Huxley sighed and Damien’s gaze drifted back to him immediately. His face was some strange mixture of fondness and grief that Damien couldn’t put a name to. 

“My Mama loves bird watching.” He said after another moment of quiet and birdsongs. “There aren’t a ton of birds that live back home and in Dahlia. So when I hear a red winged blackbird… I don’t know. I just think about home, I guess.” 

They finished their run. It took him longer than usual to complete a lap of the pond, but he forced himself to do another. Huxley kept pace with him the whole time. 

__

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mother.” Damien sighed, his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear. 

“Nobody knows what’s going on in that class besides you and your professor.” Sofia snarled. Damien could almost feel the heat radiating off of her through the phone. “So do I need to reach out to Richard and find out that way?”

His fourth and final English credit was set out to be Historical Texts from the Empowered World, a class he’d been fighting tooth and nail to get into since his first semester at D.A.M.N.. It was a coveted seminar, one that only fifteen students a semester were able to attend. He’d been lucky enough to snag his seat within the first five minutes of enrollment being open thanks to Lasko’s efforts. Now, four weeks into the semester, he was eeking by with a seventy-six percent. It was the worst grade he’d ever received in a class. 

His mother found out, although he wasn’t sure how. She’d called him at three in morning, either unaware of the time difference from wherever the fuck she was or too concerned about the first C he’d received in his seventeen years of schooling. 

“Do not call him.” Damien snapped, louder than he intended. Huxley was sleeping in the living room. He didn’t want to wake him. Damien opened the door to his ensuite bathroom once, twice, three times before stepping in, stepping out, stepping in again. Even in the darkness, he could see how drawn and exhausted his face was. He hadn’t been sleeping when she called. “I’ve got it under control. There’s no need to bother him.” 

“Are you skipping class? Are you not doing the work?” 

“Mother, I have it under control!” He snapped, bending over to rest his forehead on the cool porcelain of his sink. He felt so hot all of a sudden. 

“Do not take that tone with me, Damien Rhone!” His mother replied in precisely the same tone. He was his mother’s child, after all. “Every day when you step out into the world, you represent me! You use my name, my reputation! You won’t tarnish it at my alma mater!” 

“Jesus Christ,” Damien shouted, his volume rising without his permission. “It’s one fucking C, Mother, I think your reputation will survive!” 

Silence from the other end of the line. He thought that maybe he’d managed to strike Sofia Rhone silent for the first time in her life. 

When he pulled his phone back from his face, melted plastic, metal, and glass stuck in his hair and against his skin. He’d gotten so hot he’d melted his phone. 

“Fuck!” He cried, prying his fingers off of the hunk of metal as he started to process the alien feeling of burn across his skin. What was left of his phone clattered into his sink, smoking and smelling of an electrical fire. He didn’t know if he should turn on the faucet or not, if that would help or just make it worse. There was a knock at the bathroom door. 

He couldn’t hide this from Huxley. He couldn’t slip out now, make it to the free clinic that D.A.M.N. ran and back before he woke up. Damien didn’t even know exactly what they would do for this, just that he knew he couldn’t fix this on his own. Huxley was awake. He was talking softly on the other side of the door, cooing sweetly about being there if he needed to talk. Damien touched the doorknob once, twice, three times before turning it and letting Hux in. 

Huxley's face twisted with horror as he took Damien in. He probably looked like a mess. 

“Dames,” Hux breathed, stepping closer, taking the uninjured side of Damien’s face in one big hand. He must have been unbearable to touch at the moment. A fine sweat had broken out over Huxley’s body. Fuck, he slept shirtless. Damien could see so much of his skin, rippling and wet and covered in pretty, floral tattoos (fag, fag, fag). He blinked hard, his fingers shaking. 

“I got too hot.” He said simply, his voice raw. “My mother…” he didn’t know how to explain it to Huxley. She made him angrier than anybody else on the planet. She was his favorite person alive. He wanted to strangle her. He would kill somebody if she asked him. She had narrowed his life down to be exactly what she wanted. She had put the whole world in front of him, ripe for the taking. 

“It’s okay.” Huxley said with such certainty that it must have been true. “It’s gonna be okay.” He wrapped an arm around Damien’s shoulders, his big hand circling Damien’s wrist like it was nothing, keeping his injured hand steady. “Come on. I’ll take care of you.”

__ 

“Have you ever had a burn debridement before?” The healer asked, tucking her hair up into a tight bun before bending over to get a close look at his face. 

“I’ve never had a burn before.” Damien said softly. “I didn’t know this could happen.” 

The clinic was freezing. That was all Damien could think about. His anger had fizzled out and his heat went with it. He was propped up on the paper-covered exam table, sat with his legs dangling over the side. He couldn’t lay down. He hurt too much to stay still. Huxley was sat in one of the tiny guest chairs in the clinic, clad only in a sinfully tight tee-shirt and pajama pants, having relinquished the giant hoodie he’d thrown on on the way out of the door when Damien started shivering. He was bent over, his elbows on his knees, watching every movement the healer made like a hawk. Damien had never seen him look this serious. 

Well… that wasn’t exactly true. 

“Never?” The healer asked, her face screwing up in confusion. She turned to her computer and read through his chart quickly. “Oh… you’re a fire elemental?” She asked. 

“Obviously.” Damien snapped, gripping his wrist tightly in his uninjured hand. Pain pulsed up his arm in time with his heartbeat, pushing out the sense and good manners that his mother had taught him. “How else would this have happened?” 

“Dames,” Hux admonished. Damien risked a look across at him through his lashes, and shame burned across his skin. He was being a monster. 

“I’m sorry.” The healer soothed, her tone changing in an instant. “I’m not great with auras. And your temperature is only ninety-nine point eight.” 

“That’s like… a fever, right?” Huxley said softly, turning to the healer. He gave her a soft smile, easing the burn of Damien’s fucking attitude. 

“For most people, yes.” The healer nodded. “But for a fire elemental…” 

“I usually run around one-oh-six.” Damein sighed, fighting not to stretch out his injured hand. He was itching to move it, to try and dislodge the hunk of metal that had fused with his skin. 

“So we’re definitely dealing with more than a fluctuating core, which is usually what causes this sort of accident.” The healer confirmed. “First thing’s first, though, we’re going to deal with the debris and the burns.” 

It was excruciating. It was a cycle of him trying to concentrate his heat in one area, loosening the material enough that it wouldn’t rip his skin off to remove. The heat tore through the injuries, leaving him in a cold sweat after every round. Huxley had abandoned his seat and wrapped one heavy arm around Damien’s shoulders, staying on his good side to give the healer space. When it got to be too much, Damien turned his face and pressed it hard into Huxley’s chest, puffed out his breath in panicked gasps, trying to hold himself together. 

He managed to melt off the large chunk of metal that had hardened the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger. The glass fused to his fingertips was harder, and though it peeled off his fingerprints, he managed it. 

She healed as they went, only taking long enough to run saline solution over each burn before pulsing magic into him with a brush of her gloved fingers. As the healing magic ran its course through him, and as his delicate control became harder and harder to maintain, a familiar chill ran up his body. He let out an embarrassing sound, leaning further into Huxley’s warmth as he began to shake. 

“What’s happening?” Huxley asked, his hand coming up to rest on Damien’s neck. Fuck, he could die right here, Huxley’s hands on him, warm and big and rough. 

“His temperature just dropped.” The healer huffed. “His core is tapped. I thought… well, I suppose it makes sense. His body isn’t used to being this cold. Let’s lay him down-” 

They kept talking, voices intermingling. Damien could feel Huxley touching him, could trace the brush of his aura as it smothered out every other magical trace in the room. His vision blackened and swam, but he held on to that touch, that magic, until everything around him faded away. 

__

“It wouldn’t impact you academically.” Lasko said, flicking through a form on his laptop before turning it on the coffee table to face Damien. “And your tuition would be returned for this sem-m-mester.” Damien watched as his mouth curled around the sound, his eyes flicking up in his struggle to vocalize it. ‘Mmm’ sounds were the hardest on him.

He used to get so impatient with Lasko’s stutter. It had certainly gotten less frequent around him as of late. Lasko’s was the type that was made much worse by stress, and Damien didn’t really stress him out that much anymore. He had also stopped sighing and tutting and interrupting Lasko when he was trying to say something. That probably helped. 

“I don’t need a semester off.” He sneered, his cold fingers tapping together as he fought the shivers that ran through him. “I need to just… refocus. I’ll be fine.” 

“You need rest.” Lasko corrected. That was the only downside of not stressing Lasko out so much anymore; he had a spine when it came to Damien now. “You need to recover. Chronic MDS isn’t something to fuck around about, Damien.” 

“I don’t have chronic MDS.” He said. “I had a bad night. I’m fine.” 

“Your ear is m-m-mangled!”

Damien liked it when Lasko stuttered in threes. Threes were good. Threes were safe. 

“I’m fine.” He said, and then it burst up and out of him again, a compulsion. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” 

“You’re not.” Lasko’s voice got quiet. “I’m worried about you.” 

“Please leave.” Damien didn’t yell. He didn’t have it in him. 

The healer had managed to get the rest of his destroyed phone out of his skin, but a good portion of his right ear came off with it. He had been assured that, with a few healing sessions, it would look more or less normal, even if he didn’t have sensation in the cartilage. He hadn’t gone back to see her in the week that had passed, hadn’t gone to see the specialist that she referred him to either. Huxley had taken him home that night, sat him down on the couch, and he’d barely gotten up since. 

Lasko stared at him from his place in Damien’s decorative armchair, his face twisted up. 

“I won’t abandon you, Damien.” He said simply. 

He got a new phone. His mother called incessantly. The grades in the rest of his classes plummeted. He didn’t leave the apartment for three weeks. 

___

There was a knock at his door in the early hours of the morning. Huxley was curled up on the floor next to the couch, sleeping with his face in the plush area rug like he had for the last three weeks. Huxley hardly ever left Damien’s side, only leaving the apartment for class and practice. As soon as he was home, he was sitting close to Damien, letting him huddle in for warmth. He made Damien stretch out at night, move from his position curled in on himself, and try to sleep. He rarely did. 

There was a knock at his door in the early hours of the morning, and Damien wasn’t sleeping. He jerked at the sound of it, a rhythmic one-two-three-four. Something in his gut twisted at the number. That wasn’t right. Whoever was out there was not safe. If they were safe, they would have knocked three times. 

The knock sounded again, one-two-three-four, and Damien rose from the couch, stepping around Hux’s sleeping form as he went. He was wrapped in one of Huxley’s gigantic team sweatshirts, his sweatpants hanging loosely from his waist. He hadn’t washed his hair in a few days. He probably looked like a mess. 

He unlocked the deadbolt, locked it again, unlocked it. 

“Mother,” he breathed, the coil of dread in his stomach releasing. She was dressed in her usual fare, a navy pant suit, her well-kept leather briefcase under one arm. She must have been in town for a meeting. 

“What in the fuck is this?” She shoved her phone in his face, his student portal open and displaying his B-C average. His breath stuttered. He had an eighty-three in Mastery of Fire-Elementalism. 

“Did you… how did you sign in to my portal?” He asked. It was the only thing he could think to ask. His mind was slow, syrupy, unsure. That was a password protected database that only he was meant to be able to access. He was twenty-five-years-old. 

“An eighty-three in Fire?” Sofia shouted, her face bright red. He could feel the heat wafting off of her. “Are you insane? Are you dying? Because I can’t think of a single other reason that my son would have less than a perfect grade in that class!” 

“Mother-” he tried to interrupt her as she pushed past him, her clothed shoulder still too hot against his. 

“I wrote the curriculum, Damien! You’ve been doing those exercises since you were thirteen! That was meant to be your easy A for the semester, and you’re flunking it!” 

“It’s a B, Mother, I’m not flunking it.” He flicked on the table lamp next to the couch and then bent to shake Huxley’s shoulder. The asshole could sleep through anything. Well, anything besides the sounds of Damien’s nightmares. Every time Damien had woken screaming over the past few weeks, Huxley had been bent over him, easing him through the aftershocks. 

Sofia came to an abrupt stop in his living room, looking down at Huxley as he startled and began to rise, hair sleep-mused and shirtless. Hux blinked sleepily between Damien and his mother, confusion painting his features. He placed one hand flat on Damien’s back, steadying him even when Hux was the one being woken by shouting. 

“Who is this?” Sofia snapped, her eyes sweeping over Huxley critically. Damien knew that look. That was the look she gave business proposals and overly presumptuous men. She was finding the foot and handholds through which she would deftly pull Huxley apart. 

“We’ve met before.” Huxley said. His voice rumbled, gravelly from sleep. Damien relaxed a bit into him, the sound and smell and heat of him, fuck, he was so cold. 

He could hear his mother’s voice, echoing around inside his aching head; faggot, faggot, faggot. 

“Don’t call him that!” Damien shouted, pressing the heel of his hand into one pounding temple. 

“Damien,” his mother admonished. And at the same time, Huxley’s gentle voice bled into his brain. 

“Dames,” he said, just that sweet nickname, he was so sweet, “sit down. You’re supposed to be resting.” 

“I don’t know what is going on here,” Sofia said, her voice full of accusation, “but it’s stopping now. You’re unfocused, Damien.”

“I’m-” Damien started, easing back to the couch with Huxley’s guiding touch. 

“No.” Sofia interrupted, stepping up into his space. He could feel the heat rolling off of her in waves. He leaned into it despite himself. “You do not interrupt me, young man. I fought tooth and nail to give you this life. I worked three jobs all the way through D.A.M.N. and never missed a single class! What exactly is so tumultuous about your life that you feel the need to abandon your classes for a month?” 

“He has MDS.” Huxley said softly. He was still standing, his hand on Damien’s shoulder, and he was facing down Sofia’s wrath unflinching. Damien was in love. 

Fag, fag, fag. 

“Stop.” He whispered, just barely audible. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sofia scoffed. “He’s fine.” 

“He nearly died a few months ago.” Huxley said. His voice took on a tone that Damien had never heard from him before. There was a growl to it, a danger. He could have drowned in it. “And he hasn’t talked to anybody about it. He hasn’t been sleeping, he’s barely eating. His core is fighting to keep him alive, so maybe we can cut him some slack!” 

Damien had never heard Huxley shout before, not really, not at someone. 

“I don’t know who you are,” Sofia said, stepping up to Huxley like he wasn’t a foot taller and twice her weight, “but you will not talk to me like that. Leave.” Huxley stared down at her for a moment, his lips pursed in concentration. Finally, he turned to Damien. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, his voice quiet again. Damien didn’t even have to think before replying. 

“No.” 

___

His mother’s name was on the lease. She filled his bank account. She’d taken care to make sure he never had to work while getting his education. She had done so much to give him this life. 

And so, when he disappointed her, she took it away. 

___

Damien didn’t mean to eavesdrop. They were letting him stay in their home, no rent, no strings. They were letting him crash on his couch at all hours, too exhausted to speak. They were essentially force feeding him. 

He was laid out on their couch, his face pressed into the pillows they’d taken off their bed for him, looking for all the world to be asleep. 

They were talking about him. He should stir. Open his eyes. Let them know he was awake. He didn’t move. 

“Is this a normal reaction?” Gavin asked softly. “I just… I haven’t seen somebody respond to trauma like this.” 

“He’s different.” They replied. They sounded almost sad, almost familiar. 

“Not from you. The two of you are… scarily similar.” 

“I stopped eating during the whole… Vega situation. And sleeping.” 

“He’s lost weight.” 

“Yeah. All muscle and skin. And even that…” 

“It’s like he’s just… fading away.”

They were quiet for a long time. Damien tried to count the time between their breaths. They didn’t do it right. One-two-breath. One-two-three-breath. One-breath. 

“I always knew this would happen eventually.” Gavin sighed into the silence. “That you all would just…” his voice cracked, emotion flooding into him, “fall away from me with time. I didn’t think it would be this soon. This fast.” 

“Hey-“ skin on skin, a hand sliding up a cheek, another scooping under clothes to steady against a back. They held each other in the quiet of their home, witnessed, observed. “We aren't fading away. He’s not leaving. He’s right here. He’s right here in front of you. He’s struggling right now, but you are not going to lose him. Not like this.” 

“Right.” Gavin said, although Damien got the impression that he didn’t believe that. “Right. Thank you, baby.” A kiss, soft and chaste. Skin on skin. Uneven, untimed breaths. He fell asleep to the uneven beat of them. 

___

His face was pressed into Gavin’s thigh and his stomach was painfully full and some cheesy Christmas movie was playing on the TV despite the fact that it was nearly April. Gavin’s fingers hadn’t left his hair in the last hour, not since they’d finished dinner. Gav was talking lowly to him, keeping up a one sided conversation that Damien hadn’t had the energy to participate in. 

“My better half is considering taking up yoga.” Gavin mused, twirling a lock of Damien’s hair over his forefinger. “Which I am, of course, all for. I don’t know how they could possibly get more flexible, but hey, I’m eager to find out.” 

“They were my first friend.” Damein said suddenly, cutting through Gavin’s undertone. Gav’s movement stopped, his hand coming to rest against Damien’s head. 

“Mine too.” Gavin nearly whispered, like it was a secret. Damien breathed out with the admission. “We love you very much, Damien.”

___

Most nights, Damien slept in the center of the Freelancer’s gigantic bed. He didn’t know how they had managed to squeeze their California King through the tiny apartment, but it most likely involved a few well-placed utilizations of Gavin’s magic. They had countless, silk-wrapped pillows, a heavy duvet, a never ending flow of downy blankets and skin. 

He was pressed up against Huxley’s chest, another warm body at his back, and a hand was trailing up and down his side as he tried and tried to sleep. When the nightmares woke him, there was always somebody there, cooing sweetly to him, pressing heat into his bare skin, reminding him over and over in counts of three; it was just a dream, it was just a dream, it was just a dream.

But he couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t sleep because Huxley wasn’t breathing right. He was usually so rhythmic, so consistent, he never varied or changed. Not unless something was wrong. 

Something was wrong. 

Something was wrong. 

Damien pressed his face further into the warmth of Hux’s chest, felt his heartbeat hammer away at his ribs. His breath stuttered, and Damien felt more than heard the small sound that escaped him. 

“Dames…” 

Damien pressed one open palm flat against Hux’s chest. He squirmed, trapped under the Freelancer’s heavy arm and Hux’s leg, thrown over his knees. Usually, the pressure felt good. It was grounding, having them on top of him, and he’d likely never be cool enough again for this much contact to feel good for anybody involved. But now it was oppressive, constricting. It stopped him from doing what he wanted. He tapped Huxley frantically, one-two-three, as his arms tightening around Damien’s shoulders, pulled him impossibly closer. As the pressure went from comfort to pain, Damien patted for Gavin’s wrist. His hand had gone still against Damien’s ribs, his breathing evened out. He jerked suddenly, fingers flexing across Damien’s skin before he moved. 

“What’s-”

The ground began to shake. Damien pushed against Huxley’s chest, trying to detach himself. Those arms tightened down harder as he tried to pull away. Damien couldn’t get a proper breath in. 

“Huxley,” Gavin said, shifting across the bed to try and pull him back. Hux let out a sharp, desperate cry. The furniture and lights and the pictures hung on the wall shook with the sound of it. 

Then the pressure was gone. Damien was pulled back, the Freelancer’s arms locked around him as they retreated. Huxley sat up straight in the bed, his body rigid and shaking. Gavin was knelt on the bed in front of him, hands spread out on his shoulders, murmuring softly to him. Huxley blinked hard once, whipping his head around to try and reorient himself. Damien imaged that, just moments ago, he’d been staring down a swarm of shades as they tore into Damien’s prone body. Gavin caught his cheek in one hand and turned his face back to him, forced eye contact, demanded his attention. 

“It’s okay,” Gavin breathed, “it’s okay, big guy. You’re here. You’re safe.” 

“Damien,” Huxley whined, breaking Gavin’s gentle hold to curve towards him. 

“I’m here.” Damien said, his voice shaky. He cleared his throat before he said again; “I’m here. I’m here.” 

Huxley huddled into his space, one arm coming to wrap around the Freelancer’s back, pulled them both close enough to protect, to hold and keep and not let go. He bent forward, his head coming to rest against Damien’s sternum. Damien could feel his lips move against the uneven scar tissue of his chest.

“You’re safe.” He said. 

“I’m safe.” Damien replied. 

___

“I don’t really know what to talk about.” Damien admitted, wringing his hands together. He had gotten warmer lately, but he stayed in one of Huxley’s hoodies almost all of the time. He only changed them out when they stopped smelling like Hux. 

“That’s fine.” Cam replied, setting aside his notepad and pen. He was taking on a more casual air, trying to make Damien more comfortable. “I know this sort of thing can be intimidating. Why don’t you start with why you decided to come in?” 

D.A.M.N. had stopped providing free counseling to students a month after the E&E games, and Damien had missed that window by a mile. He got lucky that Lasko knew a few people who were connected with setting up that program in the first place and was willing to relinquish his office during business hours for this meeting. Damien wasn’t feeling particularly grateful about it this morning when Gavin and the Freelancer were forcing him out of their loving and generously provided home. He’d grumbled and complained about it the whole drive, something the two of them seemed to take pleasure in. 

It was most likely a good sign that he had enough energy to grumble at all. 

Damien fiddled with the hem of his sweatshirt. He thought about rucking it up, exposing his chest, showing the scars. That would explain it all. 

Huxley had been trying to coax him into using his words as of late. 

“I was… I was in the ward. During the games.” He said. It felt like too few words to communicate the weight of the admission. Cam went still, his face betrayed him. He knew exactly what that meant, the horror hidden behind those two sentences.

“Okay.” Cam nodded. He rearranged himself, sat forward a bit in his chair, attentive. The soft glow of Lasko’s sensory friendly office cast him in such a soothing light. “Do you want to tell me about it? Any of it?” 

Damien swallowed. He didn’t.

“I don’t.” 

Cam’s face didn’t change, didn’t indicate that Damien had given him the wrong answer. There were no wrong answers. 

“Okay.” Cam smiled. “What do you want to tell me?” 

Damien thought for a very long time. 

“My mother’s name is Sofia.” He said finally. Cam was quiet, waiting for him to continue. “She’s… a difficult woman.” 

___

Cam sent him to a psychologist who sent him to a specialist who diagnosed him with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He was scheduled for an aggressive therapeutic course and given two prescriptions, two pills he would have to take every morning until he got better or died, whichever came first. 

His doctors warned him that, though treatment could drastically improve his life, this wasn’t the type of illness he would be cured of. It had been living in him, just under the surface, not interrupting his daily life for a very long time. The E&E games were just the final crack that sent the sickness flowing out. He could patch it with medication and therapy, but he would never be better. 

He called his mother. He was afraid she wouldn’t answer, given that their last conversation had ended in her kicking him out of his apartment and cutting him off. She picked up on the first ring. 

She had been twenty-five when she was diagnosed too. 

“How did you… I don’t know. You’re very put together.” He huffed into the phone. He was curled up on the Freelancer’s sofa, his feet tucked under him. “How do you live your life? Because I feel like I’m going to fall apart at the seams right now.” 

“I did, for a little bit.” She admitted. It was the first time he’d heard her admit weakness. It made him feel strangely afraid. If Sofia Rhone could fall apart, nothing in this world was sure. “I doubt you remember, but we stayed with one of my friends for a while when you were a baby. She pretty much took care of you. I was useless for a solid month.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” He asked. “OCD is hereditary.”

“I didn’t think it would develop.” She replied. “Or… I don’t know. I hoped it wouldn’t.” 

“You would have saved me a lot of confusion.” He grumbled, picking at the pilled fabric of his sweatshirt. He heard his mother take a deep breath, fighting the urge to scold him for being petulant. “I just mean that this could have been avoided. I could have been screened and diagnosed and… I don’t know. I think this would have been bad for me either way, but at least I wouldn’t have been going in blind.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to happen to you.” 

“It did.” He said. “It happened to you, too.” 

“You were supposed to be better than me.” She sounded ruined when she said that, like she’d given away her last secret, played her final card. Damien didn’t reply. “You are the best thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done a lot of extraordinary things. You were supposed to be the best of me.” 

“I don’t think that’s how people work, Mom.” 

“Maybe not. It’s just… you were supposed to be better. Better than this.” 

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.” 

“Me too.” 

—

His fire came on like the spring; slowly, and then all at once. That ball of heat in his chest, radiating out around him like a star, like a sun, started burning again. His threads sang with new music. He ate. He slept. He started running early in the morning. He listened to the red-winged blackbirds call. 

__

Bad Dog Tattoo Co. was a tiny, neon-lit building, tucked between a yoga studio and a bagel place just outside of D.A.M.N.’s campus. He had never once considered getting a tattoo before. It wasn’t for any moral objection but because he simply couldn’t have imagined them ever being his particular taste. He did like Huxley’s, the swirling, naturalistic flowers and vines that crept over his shoulders like they had grown there. He’d run his hands over them many times over the past few months, felt the ridges and rises of scar tissue and noted where the ink hadn’t held properly. 

“They’re great here.” Hux said, holding the door as they entered. “Cool people. Queer friendly, POC friendly. And they’re a good artist, so that helps.” 

As he entered, Damien felt the familiar, shivering tell of a ward pass over him. 

“They’re empowered?” He asked, turning as Huxley closed the door. 

“Dude, how did you know?” 

“There’s a ward, gorgeous.” A rasping, unfamiliar voice called from behind the counter. Damien turned as the undeniable aura of shifter slammed into him, crowding out his magical senses. They were as big as every other shifter Damien had ever met. They were certainly flirting with six feet and every bit of them was covered in muscle. The ripped, scant muscle tee they wore exposed their arms and a good portion of their midriff, loose jeans hanging on their hips, flashing the waistband of their boxers. Every inch of exposed skin Damien could see was covered in tattoos. A snake curled around their right arm, its tongue flicking out over their middle finger. Half of a pomegranate dripped juice like blood down the curve of their left. A naked woman had her limbs detached, exposing blood and bone as she danced across their flexing bicep. Their knuckles were adorned with tight, neat lettering as they extended one hand to shake his, sending a simple message; GOOD LUCK. “I’m Grip. You must be Damien.” 

He blinked, looking over his shoulder at Huxley. He’d gone red and was making intense eye contact with his shoes. 

“He talks about you.” Grip said, their mouth splitting into a vicious grin. Their face was cut nearly in half with a concave scar. He watched their smile morph with it, tugged this way and that, exposing gums. “He talks about all of his friends but…” they looked up and seemed to notice the embarrassment creeping across Huxley’s form. Their smile took on a mischievous glint. “Good to put a face to the name.” 

Grip set up their space religiously, ritualistically, and Damien felt what he now knew to be the compulsive part of his brain preen with affection for their attention to detail. Gloves on, space sprayed down, wrapped, new gloves, ink and machine set up, gloves off, stencil on, new gloves. Three glove changes. It wouldn’t get infected. 

“It looks straight?” He asked for the fourth time. He would feel the need to ask two more. He would try very hard to swallow them. His therapist insisted that breaking the compulsion was good for him, no matter how disastrous it felt. 

“It does.” Grip replied in the same gentle, patient tone they’d told him three times before. Their smoke-rasped voice talked him through the session, the needle breaking through the delicate skin of his wrist, the jerk of his muscles as the pain ran its course through him. All told, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be. It wasn’t a big pain, save for a few spots on the inside of his wrist, just a long one, stretched out over the course of an hour as Grip dragged careful, perfect lines through his skin. 

When they were done, Grip brought him to a mirror and let him see. 

“It looks straight?” He asked again. Grip smiled, standing over his shoulder. 

“It does.” They replied, tone unchanged. Damien wondered if they were a natural comforter, or if Huxley had warned them about his compulsions. “It looks good, Fire. Good choice.” 

Wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet in blocky, black letters; ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE. 

___

“Hux,” Damien breathed, his hips aching with the strain it took to straddle him, “Hux, Hux-” 

“Just two, Dames,” Huxley groaned, because of course he was still keeping up with Damien’s EPR therapy even in the middle of their first kiss, “try for two.” 

“Fuck you,” Damien laughed, his forehead resting against Hux’s for a moment. Hux was pressed into the Freelancer’s couch, one thick leg thrown over the back of it, his arms laid over Damien’s back, keeping him close. Damien felt hot, he felt like he was on fire. He was going to burn Huxley. 

“You’re okay.” Huxley said, his lips finding Damien’s again. No tongue, no teeth. Just chaste, skin on skin. 

“Hux…” Damien whined. He ground down onto Huxley, his fingers shaking where they threaded into his hair, wrapped around his jaw and pulled him in. “Please, please…” 

“Good,” Hux nearly purred, his fingers flexing against Damien’s back. “Fuck, Dames. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby.” 

___

“I’m not telling you my class schedule, Mother.” Damien said it all in a rush, his chest squeezing with anxiety. He tapped his finger against his phone in bouts of threes where he held it against his face. “And I need you to log out of my class portal.” 

There was silence for a long moment on the other end of the line. 

“Why?” She snapped. Damien took a deep breath. He counted to four in his head. 

“Because I’m an adult. I don’t need you to check up on my grades anymore. They’re my responsibility. You need to let go and let me handle them.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” She replied. “You are my responsibility.” 

“Mother,” Damien said, taking a deep breath, “it’s not up for discussion. You want to be in my life? This is part of it.” 

“There’s more?”

“I’m gay, Mother.” More silence. Damien counted to three, fuck, four, before continuing. “I don’t need your approval.” 

“Well, good, because-” 

“Please don’t interrupt me.” Damien snapped. He shook his free hand out and took a moment to check his heat. He didn’t want to fuck his ear up even further by exploding another phone. “I… I don’t need you to love me. Or understand me. But you could. If you wanted to.” 

More silence. 

___

“This isn’t oatmilk.” Damien said, staring down at his to-go cup. He turned it in his hand, the condensation already beginning to sweat against his skin. It had ‘oat’ written on it, clear as day in smudged marker. He screwed up his lips, trying to suss out the taste of whatever was in his fucking mouth. 

“Oh?” Lasko squeaked next to him, turning in towards him. Recently, they’d all been doing that, pulling in, getting as close as they could when they thought he might get caught in a compulsion. He’d only had to tell them once that they shouldn’t entertain them, that they should interrupt as often as possible, as often as his mood made it safe. 

Today had been a good day. Until the stupid barista put the wrong fucking milk in his latte. 

“Are you allergic to anything? Like nuts or-” 

“No.” Damien snapped. He closed his eyes, tried not to admonish himself for interrupting Lasko. The guilt didn’t help. Lasko would forgive him. If he didn’t, he would say something. He had to trust that, at least. 

“Is it the taste? Do you not l-like the… soy or almond or… whatever else they gave you?” 

“No.” Damien sighed. He pressed a hand over his face. “It tastes fine. It’s just… not right.” 

“I-I could ask for a new one.” Lasko offered. 

Damein could have melted when he said that. There was nothing more horrifying in this world for Lasko than complaining to service workers. And he would do it for Damien. 

“No.” He said, resolute. “No. It’s okay. I’ll… it’ll be okay.” 

Lasko looked up at him, something strange and sweet in his face. 

___

Summer passed in a blur. He ate. He slept. He started classes again. He trained his endurance a bit further every day. His core didn’t give out on him when the weather got cold.

He did not see Sofia for Christmas. Instead, he went North to meet Huxley’s moms. 

___

It was beautiful up there, quiet and secluded. Their little house, brick and vine and tree and birdsong, opened up to him like a pair of warm hands. 

Huxley’s moms were nice. Accommodating without being condescending, loving without crossing his boundaries as he laid them out in front of them. They didn’t share their names, seeming to know he would insist on calling them by them. Instead, they introduced themselves as ‘Mom,’ and ‘Mama.’ 

He and Huxley stayed up late their first night in, long after the winter sun had set over the snow-covered hills. They curled up, limbs tangled, on the porch swing, wrapped in blankets. Damien breathed out, his breath curling around them and adding a hazy quality to the warm porch light. 

“It's perfect out here.” He said softly. 

“Yeah.” Huxley replied. He wasn’t looking up at the night sky like Damien was.

Somewhere in the distance, a shrill, shrieking call rang across the late evening air, like a disk scratching in the middle of a song. A pause, then another call.

He could picture it, that flash of red as its wings carried it from the snowy underbrush, over the trees, and away. He closed his eyes, resting his head back against Huxley’s shoulder, and let his fragile control go. His core thrummed with that strange new music, heat without burn, light without fire. Huxley stopped shivering, sighing in him, his thumb tracing the lines of Damien’s tattoo. Damien relaxed into the knowledge that the cold couldn’t touch him, that he could warm Huxley, warm the house if he pleased. He had enough heat to spare, and it was a cold night.

[pycth]

EA SPOILERS ‼️

DAMIEN AND HUXLEY, MY BELOVEDS, OH HOW I’VE MISSED YOU

In full honesty I’ve never seen a miscommunication trope handled so well, I loved this 🥹

The way you can just imagine Huxley’s smile twitch when Damien says he doesn’t really care for Valentines Day then slowly fall when he kept going on—

I’m not entirely surprised about Damien’s disinterest in the holiday, I kinda had a feeling, I just thought the video was gonna be something along the lines of him simply putting that feeling aside for Huxley the big lover boy and maybe surprise him with some flowers while Hux gets all giddy like school girl who found a secret admirer note in her locker akdjakdsk (woe is my wishful thinking)

That subtle fast walk to the front door I just know Hux was doing while internally preparing himself for what he felt was the embarrassment of going overboard 😭

When Huxley cries, I cry.

Every time a character I love says they’re too much for feeling things so strongly, I am set on yet another hunting spree for the fuckers that made them think that nonsense

I said this on discord and I’ll say it again (ykyk)—

Just think of how excited Huxley must’ve looked setting up all the decorations the night before, probably had music to hype himself up, even sending photos of it all finished to Freelancer or even FaceTiming them to see what they think

Damien comforting Huxley for a change was so sweet, he was definitely holding Huxley’s face to make sure he was looking right at him and knew he meant what he was saying wholeheartedly

“You are a person that is overflowing with love to give, and that is not too much, that is fucking beautiful. And..the world is not a place that’s very kind to beautiful things like that. So..the fact that you are still who you are after all that is not something to apologize for.”

What if that was my limit, Erik—

They 100% still have that bear lmaooo

“You’re the only teddy bear I need” CRYYINNGG

Visualize with me, everyone, a decoration tangled Lasko trying to frantically find somewhere to hide said bear. Beautiful.

Bonus: HUXLEY WITH A JEEP CANON ‼️

[dani-ya-dig]

Relistening to FL season 1 really makes me realize how much it was put on the back burner.

Like I understand that it kind of had to be in order for other storyline to get some progression so I’m not mad about it. But I’m also not gonna sit here and say that I’m not a little disappointed.

Like we never hear back about Damien and FL starting he club to help human borns or how that is going.

Hux graduates entirely and it’s like barely mentioned.

Gavin should have gotten his full certification by now, but again just nothing about that at all.

We haven’t heard from Caelum since after the inversion (I mean I think I kind of know why but it’s still upsetting to me).

And now with Lasko having a listener it’s kind of sad that we aren’t going to get as much content of him with the DAMN crew as we are going to hear from him as a romantic character.

Again, I fully get it that other storylines needed their time to shine and now is kind of the vamps and the wolves time (or at least david and darlin, bc ash and Milo really haven’t gotten that much stand alone content) but I just really miss these characters and I guess this was just me going on a little rant about that.

[running-tweezers]

Ok, I’m finally doing it.

The Damien/Huxley Pining Playlist

I am well known amongst my friends for my Far Too Thought Out Playlists. I have one for like, every D&D character I’ve ever made, and have written full Google docs about each song and why it’s there.

Combine that with my voracious love of DamiHux and pining? We get this.

So if you just want to listen without reading an essay, I will put my annotations and thoughts under the cut. (But it will probably enhance your listening experience tbh)

Congrats you’ve entered the

MARISA ANALYSIS ZONE

Welcome. You’re my kinda people.

First the basics, this playlist encapsulates Damien and Huxley's entire pre-confession relationship, from their first meeting, through Inversion, to the confession itself. It alternates POVs, I’ll label each song with a color to make it easier to follow. Cool? Let’s go.

——————————————————————————

Stray Italian Greyhound - Vienna Teng

Kicking off the playlist with one of my very favorite songs on it. First song, Damien’s first impressions of Huxley.

The denial was REAL. Those initial feelings were met with a “OH NO, OH GOD, OH FUCK” kind of reaction. Damien was totally unsure of what to even do with what he was feeling. After all, he isn’t the kind to get so mushy and sappy over a little crush! Especially on someone he literally just met! He’s far too cynical for something like that. So he just tried to push it down, ignore it.

But it “won’t sit still” “won’t do what it’s told”. Huxley came into his life and changed EVERYTHING. In a way that feels incredible, but makes things complicated. And he’s going to have to deal with it eventually.

But not now.

Enchanted - Taylor Swift

Putting this song on this playlist is part of where my “Huxley is a Swiftie” headcanon came from. It was a joke at first, I swear.

This is Huxley’s POV of their first meeting at the bowling alley. The “forcing laughter, faking smiles” really plays into where Hux was at that point, still putting on a bit of an act and not letting people see past the surface level. But he met Damien, they hit it off, and Hux was immediately feeling some kinda way.

I’m convinced this big guy had some giddy, twirling hair, kicking feet energy about Damien. Thinking about him for days after they met. Hoping that they would continue to be friends and get closer. And that this was the beginning of something that could be amazing.

Trouble - Troye Sivan & Jay Som

You can’t deny it forever, Damien.

This is Damien coming to terms with the fact that yes, he does have some feelings for Huxley. He’s now got a group of friends like he’s never had before, and that’s changing his outlook a little bit. He doesn’t want to live like he’s been living anymore, focused entirely on school and grades, and hurrying to the future he wants for himself.

And one of those friends felt like something different to him and he can’t deny it anymore. As scary as that was.

THATS WHAT I WANT - Lil Nas X

I think we as a society do not talk enough about how lonely Huxley was.

Huxley was the kind of guy who was friendly with everyone. He was liked by pretty much everyone. He was liberal with hugs and willing to give every ounce of love he had to other people.

But he was still guarded. Playing the version of himself everyone expected. Afraid to be himself. All that friendliness and love given away didn’t translate to anything substantial.

He wanted someone to love him back.

And now he had friends! Which was amazing and made him a lot less lonely. But one of his friends, again, was different. And he desperately wanted a different kind of love back from him. One he was more than happy to give, but afraid he wouldn’t receive in return.

Out of My League - Fitz and the Tantrums

First of all. God I love Fitz and the Tantrums.

We know that Damien doesn’t think he’s good enough for Huxley. He ESPECIALLY thought that in this stage, around the time of Friendsgiving.

Damien knows he’s easily annoyed, loses his temper quickly, and doesn’t think he’s much to look at either. But Huxley is so patient, is a calming presence, and is incredible to look at as far as Damien’s concerned. Huxley is so wonderful, and so far out of his league that he really thought he had no chance.

But that doesn’t stop him from daydreaming. Hoping someday he might be more than just a dream.

Golden - Harry Styles

Damien might think that he’s not good enough, but Huxley would definitely beg to differ. In a lot of ways, Huxley thought Damien was too good for him. Too smart, too bright, too driven to be interested in someone like him.

So he decided to keep his feelings to himself. Because he knows Damien isn’t nearly as open with that kind of thing as he is.

Also I think this song’s bright, firey, sun-coded imagery being seen as something to be admired and adored is really in line with Huxley seeing everything Damien thinks is bad about himself and loving him for those exact things.

Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

This is the one. I could do a whole lyric by lyric breakdown of this one. But I will attempt to keep it brief. Bc I’m obviously so good at that, just look at this post

Immediately after the Inversion, Damien had some very complicated feelings. About Huxley, about himself, about everything. This song encapsulates all of that.

Huxley saves his life in several ways that night. Both by being a support during his breakdown, and physically, literally saving his life when he exhausted all his magic. And he still feels like he can’t reach out. They hasn’t spoken at all. I can’t help but think that maybe he feels like it’s better that way, like it’s his fault, like Hux doesn’t want to hear from him. After all, Huxley was so emotionally mature about it all and he was not.

Combine that with his feelings of inadequacy, looking back at the night and wishing there was some way to take back some the the decisions he made. He would’ve helped Hux the same way Hux helped him, if he had just done things differently.

So he’s throwing himself completely into training. Maybe if he just works hard enough, he can make up for it. And maybe those complicated emotions will go away.

Also. Two specific lyrics I feel I need to point out. “I need you here to stay” is an excellent counterpart yo Huxley’s “right here” and we all know how I feel about a fuckin motif. And of course “all my emotions feel like explosions when you are around” is almost literal in this case’

(I have so much more to say about this one, but perhaps another time)

Heat Waves - Glass Animals

Though Huxley seemed to handle the aftermath of Inversion with a calm maturity, that doesn’t mean he didn’t have his own struggles.

As he went home to be with his family and deal with things, his feelings for Damien stayed. I do wonder what he was thinking during that time, when Damien wasn’t talking to him after everything they went through. I think that maybe he also blamed himself a bit. Maybe they weren’t as close as he thought? He felt like no matter what he did or said, it wouldn’t help Damien, no matter how much he wanted it to.

Also like. “Heat Waves” is too perfect a concept to not use in this playlist.

Delicate - Taylor Swift

After things start to return to some kind of normalcy after Inversion, Damien’s feelings for Huxley are stronger than ever. There’s no denial anymore, he really likes Huxley. He’s thinking about Huxley a lot. He wants to be with Huxley.

But things are different now, whether they like it or not. Inversion changed things, and everyone is still working through that night at their own pace. So there is a lot of hesitation on Damien’s part about what he should and shouldn’t do about the feelings he has.

By this point they’re hanging out together more, just the two of them. And Damien is really wrestling with whether or not to let Hux know how he feels. There’s a fear that he might upset the delicate situation they’re currently in, as friends who have been through hell together and are still healing from it.

Dandelions - Ruth B.

At the same time that Damiens’s so concerned about what moves to make, Huxley has never lined harder. He is firmly in “lovesick puppy” territory. He’s gotten even closer to Damien, and know him on a deep level now. He knows the parts of Damien he doesn’t show most people. And he loves them.

Damien just makes him so happy.

This song’s imagery is so good as well. It gives vibes of lush, green earth and flowers and something just so Huxley imo

In My Head - Joe Serafini & Andrew Barth Feldman

I am incapable of making a playlist for anything without including at least one musical theater song, and this is no exception. Through this not from an actual musical, it’s more theater adjacent, let’s call it.

We’re into right before the confession territory, a song for both of them, a duet. This song perfectly illustrates the awkward stage they’re in, as friends who both desperately want to be something different.

So much of this song feels so perfect for them specifically, it’s like it written for them, I swear. Huxley’s worries about being too much, Damien feeling like he’s not good enough, the gym line, it’s all too good honestly.

Right Here - Betty Who

And the playlist caps off with this one, the song that Erik Redacted himself said was their song. And it really is perfect, especially with that “Right Here” motif carried through their relationship that I love so much. It’s just so damn soft and so am I. I love them your honor.

——————————————————————————

HOLY SHIT this took so long. I sincerely hope you got something out of all of the ravings of a mad man that this ended up being.

Also @redactedbloop dinner’s ready, eat up!!!

[free-boundsoul]

It's been awhile since I did some headcanons. So why not the best fiery boi that I really wish we could get some noncanon audios of

Damien Headcanons

I know I've said this in a post earlier, but he's the shortest of the DAMN bois. He's actually around average height, the other three are just taller. Gavin likes to tease him about it by purposefully putting things out of his reach.

He's very invested in eating healthy and making it delicious. Meal preps for the week so he can just grab something on the way to class so he doesn't have to stress about making or buying food between classes.

He gives really good massages (I still think Hux gives the all time best, but Damien would come in second) I can just imagine him focusing warmth into his hands to help relax muscles as he works through knots. He and Hux give each other massages after workouts and they each swear the other is the best.

He's the designated 'mother hen' of the group. Makes sure everyone wears sunscreen (Yes Gavin, that includes you, I don't care if you say demons don't have to worry about UV rays. Set a good example for the children). He packs extra snacks and water. (If anyone mentions it, he just says he wanted extra weight in his pack for strength training) he's the one who holds onto any tickets or passes for events and makes sure everything is scheduled to a 'T' and keeps everything running smoothly.

On that note, he will bail any of his friends out of trouble. But he will remember it. And probably use it as blackmail

Speaking of blackmail. He keeps a record on all the professors he's had. He keeps track of every time one of them has made a negative comment on demons or vampires. If they refused to help a humanborn student with something they're struggling with. He records everything with dates and it is in order and he's ready to use it.

He likes to do Sudokus, word searches and crossword puzzles when he's bored. Especially the difficult ones that take forever. Freelancer gifted him a bunch of different books of them for Christmas one year. (Along with those mandala coloring books and pens because actually finds those relaxing)

He hates the thought of owing someone money so he tends to pay for things a lot. (He might also have anxiety that he has to pay the crew back for being friends with him because he's not used to people sticking around)

Before he and Hux started dating, he had a little succulent garden that he got so annoyed with because it was always close to death no matter what he tried. It wasn't until Hux saw it that he was able to tell him how to properly care for them.

He has a coffee mug for each member of the DAMN crew that he saw while out and about and had to get it and that's their designated mug to use while they're at the house. (Freelancer and Huxley found a mug for him while they were hanging out together and Hux brought it home so Damien wasn't let out because he wouldn't pick a mug for himself)

[tiredandkindaoverworked]

Home

In which Dear realizes how much love surrounds them.

——————————————————————————

Dear stumbled to the door, bleary eyed. They opened the door to a fidgety Freelancer, looking slightly embarrassed, shuffling on Dear’s doorstep.

“Freelancer…? Is everything ok? It’s 11pm.”

Freelancer’s mouth opened and closed, their throat dry, nearly choking on hesitation.

“I… um. I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I decided to take a long walk and I ended up here, somehow. Can I come in?”

Dear stepped aside, taking Freelancer’s coat and gently guiding them inside.

“Would you like something to drink, hon? It’s pretty cold out at night during this time of year.”

Freelancer nodded quietly. Dear gestured to the couch, urging Freelancer to sit while they prepared a warm drink for them.

As the kitchen’s space filled with the sound of boiling water, Dear’s phone chimed with a text from Damien, asking to come over.

They shot back a quick affirmation, phone chiming back with an ETA.

‘Hm, guess I’d better put on some coffee too.’ They thought to themselves.

Dear put on a pot of coffee before bringing two mugs to the table, setting them down and wrapping an arm around Freelancer, holding them against their chest. Freelancer leaned into Dear’s embrace, a heavy sigh escaping their lungs.

Damien gently opened the door with Lasko in tow, striding in with a familiarity very few knew. Dear looked back and waved to them.

“Coffee’s on, if you want some. Lasko, your creamer’s in the fridge.”

Lasko dismissed Damien to the couch, knowing exactly how he wanted his coffee. Damien shuffled over and sunk into the couch, a hand seeking out Freelancer’s and lacing with their fingers.

“Been a long night for you two, hmm?” Asked Dear.

“Pretty long. Hux’ll be in later. He’s doing a little bit of overtime.” replied Damien, weariness apparent in his voice.

Lasko ambled over with two more mugs, placing Damien’s coffee on the table in front of him before sitting on the ground in front of the couch.

Damien took a sip of his coffee, humming contentedly as Dear gripped the remote, scrolling through lists of movies and shows to watch.

“Hmmm, dunno what we should watch.”

“Well, whatever we do, we can’t watch anything that requires all of us to be together.”

“I know Gavin was interested in rewatching Avatar.”

“The one with the humans or the ones with the blue people?”

“Well, they both technically have humans, but the one with strictly humans. I think he mentioned he never actually fully watched it and he wanted to watch it with all of us.”

Their conversation was cut short by a gentle knock at the door.

“Door’s open.” Freelancer called to the next guest.

The door creaked open to none other than Gavin, who plotted a familiar course to the couch, unceremoniously plopping down right behind Dear, an arm snaking around Dear’s waist as he hugged them from behind.

“Well, well, speak of the devil and he shows up.” Lasko teased.

“Aht aht, Demon, not devil. Look who’s gotten all comfortable making jokes.” quipped Gavin, pulling Lasko’s hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to them.

“But what were you guys discussing before I showed up?”

“Discussing what to watch. You’ve mentioned wanting to watch ATLA.” Freelancer explained, face still buried in Dear’s chest.

“Mmmm.” Gavin mused. “Hux’ll be here tonight, right?”

The crew murmured affirmations.

“He’s already seen the entire show, if we want to just start tonight. He’s only gonna be upset if we somehow make it to season two and meet Toph.” chimed in Damien.

Gavin gently slipped the remote from Dear’s hand, replacing it with his hand and pressed play.

The group grew quiet, the only sounds heard being the television.

The door creaked open one last time that night, Huxley shambling in after a long shift.

“Hey, darling. Do you want to take a shower? Need something to eat?

Hux’s face broke into a weary smile.

“Hmm, not right now. I just want to be with my people right now.”

He ambled around, pressing kisses to everyone’s heads before settling next to Lasko, arm stretched out over his shoulder and head leaning back against Damien’s legs, who affectionately began running his hands through Huxley’s hair.

“Not that I don’t love having you guys here, but what brought you all to my place tonight?” Dear wondered aloud.

None of them answered. It was a comfortable silence.

Outside, fireworks popped in a spectacular display, ignored by the cuddle puddle indoors. Faintly from a neighbors house, Dear could swear they could heard the song ‘Auld Lang Syne.’

——————————————————————————

@achios i’m not good at writing polyromantic DAMN crew, but i saw ur post and figured shiiiit, why not try it.

[dominimoonbeam]

I Don't Know You - 3

The David/Huxley amnesia fic!

I Don't Know You - 3

The next day was a parade of visitors. People came over all day in twos. Huxley’s team captain coordinated their visits, texting with David so as not to knock on the door. He reminded the players before going in that they were to be quiet. Hux didn’t remember half of them from his team but some of them he knew from playing against them in college games and his captain he knew by reputation.

Still, he seemed happy to see them. David had set him up in the corner of the couch and kept the lights low, trying to give the illusion of staying out of the way by loitering in the kitchen.

Sometimes Huxley remembered a game when the others were reminiscing about a play. David’s heart pounded then. They were little memories, but they were filtering back up to the surface when he wasn’t trying to reach them. He could see how excited some of Huxley’s teammates were when they realized it too, and grateful to them when they didn’t point it out or press for more.

Asher had been there all day, outside, talking to the parade of hockey players rolling through. He made it seem like he was just there to hang out, but David knew he was there in case someone needed to be bounced.

Damien and Lasko came that evening, after the team, and even though Huxley was obviously tired, he was also incredibly happy to see them. The relief when he threw his arms around them made David’s heart ache to be remembered too.

He went outside then. He didn’t need to hover while Damien and Lasko were there. He knew they wouldn’t overstep or do anything to hurt Huxley. Damien would burn the house down before he let anyone hurt his family. Although, David did hope it didn’t come to that.

He dragged a deep breath outside and sat down on the porch. Asher came over and sat next to him. “Do you want a hug, boss?”

“Fuck you,” he grumbled.

Asher laughed and threw an arm over his shoulders. “A bunch of the pack want to visit but I told them to wait. It’s already a lot today and…” his words trailed off and died.

He was going to say, “And he doesn’t remember any of us.”

Asher sagged a little beside him.

David looked at his friend and caught the glimpse of his own heartbreak there. Asher and Huxley had been close. So had Huxley and Babe, and Huxley and Milo, and Huxley and Sam. Everyone loved Hux. They went on group trips, had almost weekly barbeques at the house, and regular double dates. Christ, he and Asher had had a joint wedding. The idea that Hux just didn’t know them anymore, that he might not remember them ever, was devastating.

He also saw the moment Asher realized he was being watched and perked up, putting back on a supportive front. He knew why. It was the same reason none of them would be able to talk to him about their own feelings right now—because his loss would always be bigger than theirs.

David ruffled Asher’s hair, palming the back of his head.

Asher pretended to hate it the same way he had since they were kids.

“He remembered some of his games,” David said, quiet like it was fragile.

Asher blinked. “What? Really?”

David nodded. “When the team was in there talking to him… Some of the games were just last year. I don’t think he realizes that though. He just remembers the plays or the win.”

Asher beamed. “That’s awesome!

David hoped so.

-

Huxley was dead tired and his head had been hurting pretty badly for the last couple hours, but he’d been trying to hide it. He didn’t want David to call off the visits. He didn’t want to be shut up in that room he didn’t recognize or lay down in that bed where he always felt like something was missing, more than a little terrified that he knew what that something was.

“You guys are… together?” Huxley asked. Lasko hadn’t let go of Damien’s hand since they walked in, other than those few minutes where they each hugged before settling down on the couch with him.

They did let go of each other then, almost jumping apart like they were kids who got caught. “Oh. Oh, yeah. I mean… It was… Well, it’s not a secret,” Lasko rushed to explain, words rolling out but still in a whisper. “It’s been like a year and Damien works-works at the university but we’re not like in the same department or anything and you were one of the first-first people we told.”

“Dudes, I’m happy for you. I’m sorry I don’t remember…”

Lasko exhaled relief and Damien almost subconsciously rubbed his back, while looking at Huxley. “Don’t be. You were happy for us the first time too. So, how are you doing? This has to be really stressful…”

Huxley laughed a little. His head hurt behind his eyes, but he tried not to squint too much. “Yeah. It’s been… well, it’s been really weird.”

“The memories will come back though,” Lasko said, almost urgent with his optimism.

Huxley smiled, grateful that they came, that his whole team had come. He was really lucky.

“And if they don’t, you get to do a bunch of firsts over again,” Damien countered.

“Firsts?” Huxley asked.

Damien smiled. “Yeah. Have you seen your garden yet?”

Huxley blinked. “No.”

“It’s pretty impressive. You and David work on that thing all year. You should go see it before your memories come back. It’s not often you get to surprise yourself with your favorite things.”

Huxley and Lasko both stared at Damien.

The room got a little warmer, the fire elemental flustering. “What? Was that the wrong thing to say? I just thought—”

“No,” Huxley smiled. “No, that’s a pretty cool way of looking at it.”

Damien exhaled relief and sputtered, looking away.

“So…” Huxley started again, glancing toward the empty kitchen. David had gone outside. “We still hang out, right?”

Damien raised an eyebrow. “What? Yeah, all the time. I mean, we all have our own schedules, but we get together at least a few times a month.”

Huxley nodded, relieved. “And…” he hesitated. Why did he need to ask at all? Maybe because he was living in a house with a stranger?

A warm hand took his and he realized he’d closed his eyes. Damien had reached across Lasko to take his hand, both of them watching him with so much care. “Ask it,” Damien said, voice steady and low. “Whatever it is, just ask it.”

“Do you like David? Is he… are we good?”

Damien stared at him. He wouldn’t lie to him, Huxley was sure of it. If Damien had any doubts, if there was anything to know or worry about, Damien would know it and he would tell him. He looked him dead in the eyes and said, “He’s great. You’re great. He’s always made us feel like we were family, honorary members of the pack even.”

Lasko nodded. “You guys were really happy.”

Huxley nodded, not sure why that didn’t make him feel better. Maybe because it just felt like he’d lost something big? And taken something from David too…

Damien gave his hand another squeeze. “If it’s ever too much, you can always stay with us. You know that, right?”

Huxley huffed a tired, strained laugh. His headache was officially making it hard to keep his eyes open. “Like that would go over well…”

“Hux…” Lasko’s quiet voice drew his attention, forcing his eyes open again. Lasko looked worried.

Damien spoke. “You’re not being held prisoner. David’s going to care and he’s going to worry if you leave, but he’s not keeping you here. You could go with us if you wanted to.”

Huxley blinked. It felt like a cold bucket of water. Had he really been thinking David was going to stop him from leaving? Maybe. But even knowing he could leave, could go home with his friends and be with people he knew… he didn’t want to go. Not really.

“Are you guys staying for dinner?” Huxley asked.

Damien still looked worried.

“Unless you have somewhere to be, of course… I don’t know what—”

Lasko shook his head. “No. We can stay!”

Knuckles tapped so quietly at the front door that they barely heard it before the door opened and David walked in, his friend on his heels.

Damien was still holding Huxley’s hand and made no move to drop it, the three of them almost snuggling in Huxley’s corner of the couch now. He turned his head toward the shifters. “David, what do you have for dinner? The prince is hungry.”

Huxley wasn’t sure what he’d expected but Damien comfortably demanding food and the alpha huffing and walking into that open kitchen to list off their oven-ready options wasn’t it.

David’s friend sat in one of the big chairs, talking to Lasko and stealing glances at Huxley. He felt like he should recognize him and knew that he should. He was in a bunch of the pictures on the walls, but he didn’t know his name until David said it, telling Asher to get people drinks.

Asher. Yeah, he had seen him the other night at the hospital too.

How many people had Huxley hurt by forgetting the last three years? He would know if he could remember…

-

Everyone had gone and it was just the two of them.

Huxley’s head was splitting but he still stood there, torn between needing to lay down and wanting to step closer to David. Only he didn’t know him.

“You should get some sleep,” David said, his voice that low rumble that made something ease inside Huxley’s chest. “I’ll grab you another pill for the pain, okay?”

“It’s not that bad,” Huxley said, but he wasn’t sure if he was right. His head really hurt. He’d barely been able to keep his eyes open the last half hour.

“Go get in bed. I’ll grab some water and the meds.”

Huxley nodded and ducked down the hall, toward that room.

He stopped a few steps inside, feeling somehow both out of place and at home at the same time. It was confusing. The room was frustrating. He’d been trying to avoid it. He went into the adjoining bathroom and brushed his teeth. David had had to tell him which brush head was his that morning.

He heard David in the bedroom and when he came back from the bathroom, David was changing his clothes. He was down to a pair of black briefs, long muscular limbs and a board back. Huxley stared, thinking he should look away but not doing it. David pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Huxley wasn’t sure which ones were his and which ones were David’s. Their clothes seemed to be mixed together. David tossed his shirt into the hamper and pulled a new one from a drawer. It was a loose fit and he ruffled his hair with a yawn.

This had to be exhausting for him. His spouse was just gone and he was basically babysitting Huxley. What had they been like before, when it was just the two of them? What did they talk about? What did they do?

“Hux?” David asked, closer.

Huxley snapped his eyes open again, realizing he’d pressed them shut. “Sorry.”

David shook his head, obviously worried. “Today was a lot. The healers said you needed to rest but…”

“It was nice to see everyone.”

He nodded, picking up something off the bedside table and a glass of water and bringing it over to where Huxley still stood. “Everyone really wanted to see you. I can’t blame them.”

Huxley took the water, feeling heat climb his face. He put out his palm and let David tip the pill into his hand. “Thanks,” he said and took the medicine, the word feeling like too little. He drained the water and walked to the bed, putting the glass down. “For, all of this. I know this has to be awful for you…”

He looked up and David was watching him, unreadable. Was he really unreadable or was it just that Huxley couldn’t read him? His heart beat faster under that gaze. “Where’s my phone? I should set an alarm or—” he babbled, tearing his gaze away almost frantically.

“You don’t need a—Wait,” David jerked a step closer, arm out when Huxley reached for drawer on the bedside table in search of his phone.

Huxley stared down at the contents, heat rising to his face. Lube, toys, rope, polaroids…

He closed the drawer and jumped to his feet. He kept thinking about the contents—about those pictures. He wanted to see them, suspecting he might be in them, but still feeling like an intruder. “I’m so sorry, dude,” he rushed out.

David sighed. “You don’t have to apologize… Everything in this house is ours.”

Huxley nodded, trying not to think about the details of that. Everything was theirs. Everything in that drawer was theirs… He took a step back. “You know, you basically slept on the floor last night. You should take the bed tonight and I’ll crash on the couch.”

David stared at him.

Huxley couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Fuck. Fuck, this was so awkward and he was the reason. He was the one making it worse.

“Take the bed, Hux. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Huxley shook his head but David was already walking around him, to the door, getting there before him.

“Get some sleep, please. You don’t need an alarm. You just need to rest,” he said on his way out, gently closing the door behind him.

Huxley dragged a breath, staring at that shut door and wondering if David was still there.

[caelumsnuff]

i know you've moved on from the 'all listeners are [insert whatever]!' discussion but i have got to tell you the funniest way someone decided to tell me that all the listeners (or at least ones with bonus audios) are AFAB was because lmao that when the speaker character (whether it was david or asher or gavin etc etc) goes down on the listener in bonus audios them practicing their oral fixations lol 'never sound at all like the blowjob sounds that happen in damien and huxley's bonus audios.' basically someone telling me 'those are cunnilingus sounds okay!!!' and lmao sure it doesn't sound similar (like none of the gagging sounds that happen in damien & hux happen in the others) but lmao it is the weirdest and funniest way someone has tried to pull a 'gotcha!!' on me about these characters sex and/or gender lol

This is genuinely hilarious. I swear for people who act like arbiters of sexual intercourse, they sure do know so little about actually doing it.

Do people know that you can give head to a person with a cock without like.... putting it in your mouth. And some of us don't make gagging sounds even when we do.* Like there are a handful of ways to give fellatio, you do not have to make slurping and suckin and gagging sounds to be sucking cock.

Anyways, sex sounds in erotic audios (that are 4A) are meant to be ambiguous, the best way to do that in regards to oral is typical licking and slurping sounds. You can't gag during head in an audio that is meant to be ambiguous about genitalia. Cock wielders are gonna be like "oh fuck yeah thats sexy", while all the pussy wielders are gonna be thoroughly turned off because they just had to listen to someone gag while fantasizing that they were getting eaten out.

All the lack of gagging sounds from those audios tell me is that those characters also give that gooseneck guack guack 5000. Like they got no gag reflex, they are sucking in utmost comfort.

*see tags

[gavinsdeviant]

Be alright

Thanks to my closest mutual for swapping stories with me. You help me so much bestie @thesunandmoons-blog . Love that I met someone like you!!! 

cw/tw- burnout ig and an exhausted freelancer

word count- 620

fandom- RedactedASMR

pair- D.A.M.N polycule (Hux, Damien, Gavin and Lasko)

Freelancer shut the door behind them with a click. 

Lasko had decided to work from home for the day since his allergies tended to worsen this time of year. He was around here somewhere and they didn't want to distract him.

They blink, eyes burning. They were exhausted from their day at the academy and they knew they'd crash if they didn't take a break. 

They were at least that self aware by now. 

"Carve some time out for yourself. Take a rest," Huxley always said as he hugged them to his chest the second he got home. Those words always came at the right time, whether he knew it or not.

"Hello?" came his shaky voice from the living room. They lean against the doorframe, closing their eyes against their need to stay awake. 

"Oh. Hey Freelancer," they can hear the smile in his voice even before they bend down to press a kiss to his cheek.

"How was your day?" his soft eyes take them in.  

"It was good. I still need to get a few things done, but overall, it was a very productive day." They weren't lying, they just weren't explaining much.

He doesn't question them as he takes their hand. 

"Do you know when the others are coming home?" he asks instead, tugging them to sit beside him. They do.

"Hux is at practice. Damien and Gav will probably be here soon," they explain.  

Before he can say anything else they shoot up from the couch, mumbling something about studying before disappearing into their bedroom.

30 minutes later

Everyone gathers in the living room, except Freelancer, the room a tangled mess or nerves and concern.

"Are they okay?" Damien asks, arms crossed in front of his chest. Huxley can always appreciate his arms, but now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

Gav can sense everyone is on edge and that, he simply won't allow.

"Hux and Damien, could you guys please wait in the bedroom for us? And Lasko, come with me." Everyone got to work, Gavin asking Lasko to wait outside while he talks to Freelancer.

And as he steps inside, a flood of emotion hits him.

Relief at seeing him, yes, but that wasn't all. It never was.

There was frustration and hurt and sadness, and he wanted to make it all better. 

They were bent over their computer, shoulders hunched. 

"Deviant," he says, soft. "Come with me." He can see they want to protest, but he isn't taking no for an answer. Lasko appears behind him, taking Gavin's hand in his and squeezing.

"We just want you to be happy and healthy," he says, moving to his knees at their side. 

"I love you guys," they say, voice thick. 

They slowly get up and allow the incubus to lead them to the bedroom that the five of them share.

They always studied in the spare room, not to disturb the others and to hide at the worst of times. 

When they step into the room, Damien and Hux wrap their arms around the Freelancer and they break down in tears. "Take a rest," the earth elemental whispers into the crook of their neck.

And they do, getting into bed still fully clothed, Huxley at their back, Gavin at their front and everyone else enveloped in the warmth of the others. 

"We want you feeling okay," they hear Damien say. 

"We love you so much, it's hard to think about sometimes," Hux says. 

Gav wraps an arm around them.

"You will be alright. And if you aren't, then we will fix it. Together."

"Together," they whisper as they doze off, content in the quiet. In the unconditional love they all share. 

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

I was scrolling thru my old posts and found the one about the boys coffee orders and… I disagree with my former self. So…

New and Improved Redacted Coffee Orders

David

It started as a red eye, no sugar, no cream. Eventually he graduated to a black eye. There’s a small coffee shop across the street from the den that he frequents. The staff knows him by name and, while most of them were scared of him to begin with, seeing how giant he is, they warmed up to him. He’s very polite to service workers and tips very well. The owner started keeping his favorite brew (a light roast single origin from Coast Rica) well in stock. Most days, when he comes in, the barista decides how many shots he needs based on how tired he looks.

- [ ] Asher

Frappe all day baby. He knows that there isn’t a lot of caffeine in those, but he’s already hyperactive so it balances just fine. He has a taste for chocolate, but always tries the seasonal ones when they come out. While the baristas hate making his order, they love his personality and always make his, as he puts it, with “extra love.” Ash claims he can taste it.

- [ ] Milo

Cappuccino. Sometimes with a pump of flavor, most often as it comes. Milo is an espresso snob. The man is Italian. Whenever they go to a new coffee shop he orders a solo to see how it tastes. He refuses to drink Starbucks espresso. Will be an asshole about how to pronounce coffee terminology.

(As a side note, Darlin’ orders straight espresso shots and takes them like actual shots. Milo is always horrified and tries consistently to get them to sip it but they simply won’t.)

Sam

Caffeine doesn’t work for vampires, but Sam just likes the taste of coffee. He’s a conoceré who loves fruity notes, unwashed processed beans, and dark roasts. His favored form of preparation is a French press, but he recently got a very nice syphon set up that he’s still figuring out. He takes his coffee with cream and a bit of sugar.

Vincent

Iced lavender lattes. Listen… Vincent is fruity. He’s a fruity fruity man. He likes it sweet and he will take it iced no matter the weather. There’s a late night coffee shop he frequents whose baristas think Vincent is an incredibly attractive gay insomniac.

William

William is more familiar with the early Parisian style of cafes than he is with American coffee culture, and he absolutely misses that. William staunchly stands by the idea that Le Procope was the first cafe in Paris, and that he drank coffee with Voltaire. He loves noisettes (espresso with a drop or two of cream) and has one nightly after dinner.

Huxley

Hux doesn’t drink coffee, but he does call the energy drinks he drinks coffee which drives Damien insane. Dames has started passive aggressively bringing Hux cups of black coffee when he asks instead of his Monster flavor of the week.

Damien

Iced coffee, no sugar, no cream. He drinks it iced because no matter how fresh the coffee is, it still feels a bit tepid to him. Drives him crazy, so he sticks with iced. When he’s feeling a little wild, he’ll add some oatmilk.

Lasko

Canonically, he drinks a doppio americano. I like to think it’s because he is too nervous/ conscientious to ask for something more complicated. He drinks it with two sugars and cream, but he doesn’t really enjoy the taste of coffee. Just the utility of it. Freelancer tries to get him into other drinks, and he enjoys the things that they get, but he never has the nerve to get them for himself when it comes time to order.

Gavin

Gavin has absolutely no interest in coffee. Caffeine does nothing for him, and he doesn’t like bitter things. What he does have, however, is a massive sweet tooth. He likes boba, but the fruity bursting type. His and FL’s favorite coffee shop is a small cafe that serves a wonderful selection of boba. He mixes it up often, but his go to a pink lemonade with blueberry popping boba.

Morgan

Morgan is a tea guy for sure. The potency and intrusiveness of seer magic can be worsened by substances, and that includes caffeine. Morgan doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, doesn’t take anything. He drinks herbal tea, sometimes decaf black tea. He likes a decaf London Fog when he’s feeling fancy, but often drinks his tea with just a splash of milk and two sugars.

Guy

Red Bull energy. This man drinks energy drinks like he isn’t blessed by the gods with an unholy amounts of hyperactivity. Since he does have adhd, caffeine often makes him sleepy. He can be found drinking Red Bulls of all flavors at all hours of the day. They’re the only things that manage to get him out of the absolute energy slump he has first thing in the morning, but he has been known to drink them late into the night. He’s also a fan of a vodka Red Bulls.

Aaron

Black coffee. And not good black coffee, either. He likes the instant shit. Coffee so tough he can chew it. He’s had good coffee before. Freshly ground French presses, premium Italian blends, single origins from the heart of the coffee belt. And yet, nothing satisfies him like Folgers instant. Smartass does have a fancy ass espresso machine, but he refuses to use it, and only politely sips the sugar-filled lattes they lovingly make for him.

Elliot

Elliot loves coffee. It’s a byproduct of his trade. Maybe it’s a stereotype to say that all dreamwalkers love coffee, but given that he spends the majority of his day asleep, it helps when he has to be conscious and functional. Elliot loves cold brew, since it’s a really concentrated brew. He makes his own using a very dark roast. He likes it a bit sweet, a bit creamy, but he really loves

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭

[𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔] d.a.m.n squad

“listen eating cheetos with chopsticks just make the most sense, that way you don’t get the cheese dust all over your fingers” you try to back up your strange habit while reaching in the bag for more.

“what?! dude the cheese dust getting on your fingers is like the best part!” you shake your head at huxley.

“bro your gonna give someone a yeast infection one day” gavin holds back a laugh at your brutal comment.

“hey man i wash my hands!”

“huxley i had to remind you to brush your teeth this morning” damien cuts in and huxley scratches the back of his head.

“it may have slipped my mind” you shake your head and continue picking through the bag while watching lasko and damien game on the tv.

“hey can i have one?” gavin whispers and you lean the bag towards him. “feed me?” you roll your eyes and pick one up to feed him.

“mmm you love me~”

“yeah i know don’t remind me” you watch as gavin pokes at lasko to break him from his concentration, he yelps and damien takes the chance to win finally.

“gavin!”

“whaaa? just making it interesting”

“lasko come with me to kitchen, i wanna start on those cupcakes now or they’ll never get done” you shove the bag and chopsticks you had into gavin’s chest and he lets out an oof and takes the items. you get up and take lasko’s hand and guide him into the kitchen.

“uh i wanna thank you again for hosting this uh um”

“slumber party”

“y-yeah that, thank you”

“it’s my pleasure i love having you guys over and i’m super excited to have you all sleep over” you flash a smile at him and lasko feels his heart squeeze. “hux and damien will probably sleep together on the pull out couch, you’re welcome to sleep with gavin and i”

lasko can feel his face flush at the offer, you can’t help but smile as you start pulling out the bowls and measuring cups.

“can you grab the eggs?”

“oh y-yeah sure”

“thank you~ go ahead and crack those into a bowl, i’ll start mixing” you instruct as you start pouring the mix together.

“got room for one more to join? damien and hux started to suck face”

“r-really?!”

“nah but i could sense that wanted to so i’m giving them some privacy” gavin says before walking over and wrapping his arms around you from behind. “whatcha making my little freelancer?”

“we are making red velvet cupcakes”

“sounds yummy, but not as yummy as—”

“ahem, we are not the only two in here gav” you say sternly.

“i’m aware” gavin says while starting to plant kisses on your neck.

“gav” you say in a warning tone that’s barley about a whisper.

“alright alright” he says finally letting up. “lasko you wanna get in on this?” lasko’s face heats up once more as he faces down to focus on prepping the cupcake tray.

after putting the cupcakes in the oven you all go back to the living room to help set up the pull out couch and set up a movie. huxley had damien to snuggle up with and lasko watched as you laid back in gavin’s lap. you noticed his anxiousness and opened your arms for him, he glad took your invitation and you instantly started played with his hair.

“hey scooch i wanna be party of the cuddle party” you giggle and open your arm for huxley to move both damien and himself into your side.

“my legs are getting crushed”

“suffer” you smile up at gavin as he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“anything for you”

you sigh happily at the pile of friends you have as you watch them watch the movie you put on. you can never express how grateful you are for them to be in your life.

“i love you guys”

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eat cheetos with chopsticks it will change your life i swear it

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

.harry’s house masterlist