#damiano david fic

[taste-your-silhouette]

I want to dance on your body

Pairings: Damiano David xfem!reader

Contents: smut 

Summary: You and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.

Words: ~2192

A/N: Hi, hello and please, forgive me again if you come across any errors while reading. I recommend you to play Touch Me and just enjoying ✨

You and your best friend are strolling into the party of some badass celeb she knows, she's probably already mentioned the name a million times, but you ain't giving much of a damn, you just wanna hit up a party, grab a few drinks, and bust some moves. Have a blast and enjoy yourself!

As you and your friend make your way through the entrance, you exchange a sly grin while vibrant, trippy lights groove to the beat throughout the crib. Side by side, you advance towards the dance floor, and your friend chimes in:

"Alright, let's have a fucking blast tonight," she says with a grin, and a contagious smile spreads across your face as well.

You were both pumped for this party and ready to let loose and enjoy yourselves to the max.

In a split second, she grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bar, where a bunch of peeps are lining up, ordering their go-to drinks, all geared up to hit the dance floor again. You step up to the bartender and request your ultimate drink, downing it in a single gulp before quickly ordering another shot and doing it all over again.

The drink ignites a fire within you, fueling you with energy and liquid courage to fully embrace the moment, without a care in the world. No worries, just pure enjoyment.

You and your friend head straight to the dance floor, grooving together to the sick beats. But before long, someone swoops in and starts getting their groove on with her, leaving you to your own devices. No biggie though, it doesn't faze you one bit. You keep on dancing as if the music is pumping right through your veins.

Eyes closed, you immerse yourself in the moment, feeling the heat of someone's body swaying alongside yours. Whoever it is, they sense your awareness and since you don't brush them off, they casually rest their hand on your waist, getting even closer in their moves. Your ass is the only thing touching him as you dance with a touch of sensuality right there on the dance floor. The electricity builds up as you grind with this mysterious dancer behind you, sending tingles down your spine.

You both bust some moves together for three consecutive songs, and it's as if you're in perfect harmony. The dance isn't just about showing off or impressing each other; it's about creating something extraordinary between you.

As the beats thump on, you suddenly hear his voice whispering in your ear, "Finally, someone who's up for it." 

It tempts you to ask what he means, but you decide against it. You don't want to risk blurting out something silly and ruining the magical vibe of what just went down. So, you simply let the moment linger, cherishing the mystery and excitement that swirls around you.

You sense the hint of a smile against your cheek, and it elicits a light-hearted chuckle from you. It's best to leave it at that and keep relishing in the night's pleasures.

You turn your gaze towards him, even though the lights make it difficult to see his face clearly. Nevertheless, you can tell that he's undeniably attractive (and damn, he can dance like nobody's business).

It's time to get another drink!

As you reach the bar, you order another drink, but this time you savor it slowly, relishing every drop of that boozy sting as it glides down your throat. The flavors dance on your tongue, creating a delightful sensation.

Before you're about to leave the bar, the stranger appears by your side once more, placing an order for two drinks. Now, with a clearer view of his face, you can't help but smile as your gaze locks onto his handsome features.

He returns the smile and pops the question:

"Care for another drink?"

You nod in agreement, and with that, you both exchange proper introductions. Skipping the dance floor this time, you snag two primo seats at the bar, engaging in a conversation that flows as if you've been pals for ages.

Damiano and you have reached a level where you're familiar with the key aspects of each other's lives. It's not something you typically do, spilling your guts to strangers, but under the influence of alcohol and with the enchantment Damiano has cast upon you, it feels natural to engage in heartfelt conversation.

He suggests, "How about finding a more quiet spot?"

The idea resonates with you, and you nod in agreement, intrigued by the prospect of finding a quieter place where you can continue this magical connection.

You flash him a mischievous smile and take hold of his hand, leading him away from the lively dance floor and the bustling bar. As you pass through the living room, your eyes catch sight of numerous unoccupied couches, and you can't resist the temptation. You abruptly halt, tugging on his hand to bring him to a stop, and in a matter of seconds, both of you find yourselves sprawled out on one of the cozy couches.

Damiano's hands be all up in his waist as you're locking lips in a way that has both of you gasping for breath, but you don't give a damn. You feel Damiano's hands on your thighs, giving them a tight squeeze as you continue kissing you, and you let out a moan, trying to catch your breath and satisfy the intense desire he's been arousing in you since you started dancing together.

"Allright?" he asks you.

You nod eagerly, craving his touch on every inch of your body, as his hand traces a path from your thigh to your clit.

"Holy crap," you moan, overcome with pleasure.

He slid your underwear aside, skillfully rubbing your clit at a tantalizingly slow pace. The way he teased you was driving you wild. You rested your head on his shoulder, attempting to conceal your flushed face while muffling your moans as best you could.

"Oh fuck," you whispered, the pleasure intensifying as he increased his pace, making it even more challenging to stifle your cries.

"It's okay, let go. Everyone's too drunk to notice us," he playfully remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

His words gave you the permission you needed, and you couldn't help but release your moans. They weren't overly loud, but they would definitely catch the attention of anyone who wasn't lost in their own drunken haze.

"Good girl," he murmured into your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine.

The fire inside you burned hotter and hotter, your moans growing louder with each passing moment. All sense of shame vanished, replaced only by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"I'm close!" you moaned, your voice filled with desperate need. And just as you uttered those words, the climax washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

"That was... amazing," you whispered, still catching your breath from the intensity of the experience.

He hinted at taking the rendezvous to his hotel for more privacy, and you could sense the anticipation building. He stood up, extending his hand towards you, and you eagerly took it, rising to your feet. Adjusting your dress, you both made your way out of the bustling party.

Upon arriving at his hotel room, he opened the door slowly, pulling you inside. As you stepped into the room, your eyes took in the sight of scattered papers on the king-size bed. Being a singer in a band, it was no surprise that he had been busy writing songs, the creative process evident in the disarray around you.

"Will you write a song about tonight?" you asked, a hint of anticipation in your voice. As the door closed and clicked, Damiano wasted no time. He swiftly unbuttoned his white shirt, discarding it onto the dresser.

"Probably," he replied, his gaze fixed on you as he moved closer. With a deft hand, he skillfully removed your dress, casting it aside without a second thought. Now, standing before him in nothing but your underwear, you felt a surge of confidence.

His eyes tracing over your body, and he couldn't help but confess:

"You look... amazing." His voice dripped with admiration and desire, fueling the intensity of the moment.

He placed his hands firmly on your hips, just as he had done earlier, and leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You reciprocated, savoring the taste of his lips, and instinctively placed your hands on his face, deepening the connection between you.

Feeling the intensity between you both, he reached down and firmly gripped one of your legs, lifting it up and resting it on his hip. The sensation heightened, and you could feel him more intimately. With a surge of desire, he broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of lust and admiration and in a bold move, he swiftly switched his hold to your other thigh, lifting you effortlessly and pressing you against the wall. The rush of being carried and pinned against the solid surface added an exhilarating edge to the moment, intensifying the passion and desire that consumed you both.

You locked eyes with each other, the intensity building with each passing moment, until he couldn't resist any longer and leaned in to capture your lips in another passionate kiss. The room seemed to ignite with fervor as the kiss deepened, fueled by an overwhelming desire.

Both of you were breathless, your bodies craving more. With a sense of urgency, Damiano swept you off your feet and carried you to the edge of the bed, gently placing you there. He swiftly cleared the clutter of papers that had occupied the bed, letting them cascade to the floor, clearing the space for your intimate encounter.

As he turned his attention back to you, his eyes filled with admiration and desire. He leaned in closer, his voice a soft whisper against your skin:

"You're so beautiful, you look like an angel." His hand caressed your face tenderly, tracing the contours with gentle affection.

You smirked mischievously, pulling him closer to you, your desire evident in your eyes. 

"I could say the same for you, but how about we go to heaven together?" You whispered seductively, your lips grazing his neck on her before playfully biting down.

In an instant, it seemed like something ignited within Damiano. He firmly gripped your neck, exerting a delicious control, and guided you down onto the bed. His lips trailed along your neck, seeking out your sweet spot, and when he found it, he indulged in it wildly. Leaving a trail of hickeys and bites in his wake for him, he marked you as his own for him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping it tightly as you let out soft moans of pleasure.

The intensity grew as Damiano skillfully removed your panties, unveiling your desires. The air crackled with anticipation as your bodies yearned for the connection that awaited them.

"Are you wet for me, huh?" He sensually bites his lip while locking eyes with you.

He moans in delight as he gently inserts his cock into your pussy, igniting waves of pleasure.

Bestowing upon you the most sublime ecstasy.

He moves his hips with deliberate grace, thrusting in and out, synchronizing your desires.

"Oh, fuck!" you passionately moan, your voice filled with pure bliss.

Damiano smirks, his confidence growing, and intensifies his rhythm, heightening your desire.

As you lose yourself in the throes of passion, your hand instinctively covers your mouth, but Damiano forcefully removes it, yearning to hear your euphoric symphony.

"No, I wanna hear you when you go to heaven, y/n," he whispers with fervor.

You affirm with a nod, surrendering to the divine pleasure that awaits you.

You moan Damiano's name as he intensifies the rhythm of his thrusts, causing your head to fall back onto his plush pillows.

"Oh, Damiano, I'm so close!" 

"Come, y/n, cum to me," he asserts, his voice laced with longing.

You struggle to hold back, determined to hear him plead, but his relentless stimulation of your spot makes it nearly impossible. The pleasure is simply too overwhelming.

"Come, y/n," Damiano groans, his voice filled with urgency.

You tighten your grip around him and succumb to the waves of ecstasy he elicits. As you reach the pinnacle of pleasure with him, he remains motionless, deeply embedded within you, his body collapsing onto yours, a resounding groan of your name escaping his lips.

The intensity of the moment consumes you, as he pours every ounce of himself into you, leaving you both utterly spent and satisfied.

You both were breathless and drenched in perspiration, your legs entwined with his.

"I wanna go to heaven with you again" Damiano whispers, his face inches away from yours.

You smile, gazing into their eyes, and you can see the unmistakable lust and desire reflected in him. You hope that he can also perceive the depth of your yearning and how much you desire the very same thing he does.

[oro-e-diamanti]

8 PWEASE - female reader is on vacation with Dami and friends and the power goes out which is all fun and games when she is with everyone downstairs but when they all go to their own rooms to sleep she panics and can’t sleep and ends up knocking on on Damiano’s bedroom door with tears running down her face and says that she is afraid of the dark and he invites her in and distracts her from it being dark with some smutty-ness and perhaps a blindfold (“now it doesn’t matter if we can turn the lights on or not because I’m not letting you see anyway”)

Perhaps she turns to Damiano because he had noticed her being anxious about the power being out earlier and asked if she was okay then and she tried to play it cool but now she can’t and she needs him to comfort her and protect her

YOU ARE THE BEST🤘🏼

Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy it 💕

"I might be afraid of the dark."

Damiano + fluff / smut

The first crack of thunder catches you by surprise. You hadn’t been aware of any thunderstorms in the forecast – and you usually kept track – and yet, when lightning illuminates the room for a split second, there is no doubt about one being much too close to the house for your liking. The laughter of the group around you briefly makes room for “oooh”s and “aaah”s but that remains the extent of their reaction.

You’re a little more unsettled. You hide it quite well, you think, until you catch Damiano’s eye. His face displays worry, a question, but even when you smile at him and he smiles back but you can tell he’s not convinced. You’re glad he’s not saying anything, as another round of drinks is passed around and someone starts a game of beer pong. A rowdy night in with your friends. A bit of alcohol, some silly games, catching up, it’s all you need.

Until the lights go out. There’s silence for about half a second before everyone starts talking all at once. You’re barely able to make out anything at all as the fear creeps up in you. Someone lights a candle, several phones are being held up to shine some light, but the unsettling feeling stays in your chest. Someone – you can’t quite make out who – jumps out behind a sofa to scare everyone. It only seems to work on you, but you try to keep your composure. Yet, once again, Damiano’s eyes are on you.

“Guys, come on, it’s no fun in the dark, let’s go to bed, we’ve still got one more night tomorrow, yeah?”

There’s a few mumbles but in the end, everyone agrees. You think you’re quite happy to retire to your room, lucky enough to snatch up one of the single ones before everyone else had arrived. But now you’re in your pyjamas, under the covers in your bed, distant thunder rumbling, and all you can focus on is the fact that it’s dark. Too dark. Not a single tiny light, no other houses or street lamps illuminating the outside, not even a little red dot on one of the various electronics in the room. Nothing.

You try, you really do. But the darkness seems too obvious, even when you close your eyes, and you can’t stop thinking about it. So, with soft footsteps and your phone in your hand to shine the way, you leave your room. It’s Damiano’s door you find yourself knocking on. He opens up much quicker than expected.

“I might be afraid of the dark,” you confess immediately. For a moment, you’re almost glad you can’t really see him or anything else, you don’t want to know which facial expression accompanies your statement. You’re embarrassed enough as it is.

You flinch at his touch. You hadn’t seen it coming, both because of the darkness and because you’d averted your gaze. But as soon as you realise what is happening, you move into him and against him, letting him engulf you in his arms and pull you into his room, door falling shut behind you. He manouvers you into the bed and only when the moonlight coming from his window hits your face does he see the tears spilling from you eyes. He wipes them away with care before pulling you into his chest.

You can barely see his face, the light from the distant moon hitting him just enough to know that he’s looking back at you. Neither breaks the eye contact. You’re so focused on trying to make out the nuances of his iris that you’re only fleetingly aware of his hand moving upwards, tracing along your side, and you almost want to dare him to brush against your chest. Your own hand is on his face, thumb stroking along his cheek, and it’s you who makes the move.

The atmosphere in the room changes in an instant. There’s a connection between the two of you that doesn’t need words as your mouths meet. With his arm tightly wrapped around you, as if frantically afraid of letting go, he gives you the utmost feeling of safety. And when his tongue touches yours, he’s giving you quite a different feeling altogether on top of it too.

You don’t notice you’ve closed your eyes, getting lost in the sensation of his hands and his mouth on you, until you open them again just to be reminded that it’s dark, worryingly dark, so dark you can barely make out Damiano at all, as a cloud pushes in front of the moon and robs you off your last bit of light.

Damiano notices you struggling immediately. He only hesitates for a moment, then his shirt is off his body, but instead of expectig you to react to the new show of skin, he pulls you into a sitting position and wraps the fabric around your head.

“There. Now it doesn’t matter if the lights are out or not because I’m not letting you see anyway.”

The terror you felt only moments before almost immediately transforms into heightened anticipation. Everything happens all at once, so quickly you can barely wrap your head around it, and at the same time, every second lingers, letting you fall deeper and deeper into everything that is being done to you. You let him take the lead, let him undress you, kiss you, touch you, mouth on your breasts, hands spreading your thighs. You’re a mess of sighs and moans, and every single time your head threatens to remind you of your fears, he instinctively surprises you, a flick against your nipple, his tongue on your clit, a movement a little rougher than expected. When he’s on top of you, between your legs, and asks for your consent, you can’t do anything but shout out an enthusiastic yes that you’re sure travels through the house more than intended.

Damiano pushes into you carefully, slowly, but as soon as he realises you’re comfortable and on the verge of begging for more, he increases his speed. Your hands are clawing at him, nails digging into his back, and it feels like all of your senses are impossibly heightened by a lack of vision. And, somehow, it makes everything better. His body on yours and his breathing, intermittently interrupted by deep groans, cause you to come undone much sooner than expected. Your legs wrap around his waist as you moan loudly through your orgasm, clenching around him tightly, and he follows before you’ve fully come down.

You barely register him moving off you, softly cleaning you off, removing the blindfold, but your eyes stay closed as your breathing still rattles in your chest. When you finally open your eyelids again, you immediately notice. The light coming from the house next door. The little red dot on the tv screen on the wall. The low hum of electricity. You turn to Damiano, his face relaxed and smug.

“How long has the light been on again?”

“Since about two minutes after I blindfolded you,” he grins, quickly pressing a reassuring kiss to your lips. “But isn’t it much more fun to stay in the dark sometimes?”

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 21: Brave Enough

Authors Note

Word count: 7.9k

Read the rest here!

After an emotionally taxing conversation with his psychologist, Damiano decided to also stop smoking weed/otherwise consuming cannabis. It’d been too triggering, a reminder of all the reasons he loved coke and opioids. Admitting he wasn’t ready for parties or group gatherings was even more difficult. He loved his friends, his family, and going to Vic’s DJ gigs. He loved playing pool at bars or dancing to the deafening pulse of techno music in a club. These things allowed him to feel the hurried, bright energy of his youth. It was proving hard to differentiate between craving community, craving mania, and craving situations because he associated them with drug use. 

He also made a habit of exercising in the mornings, before treatment. The earlier he took his lithium and ate some protein, the better he tended to feel throughout the day. Routine made cravings easier to resist when he woke up with them and endorphins lessened the severity of his depressive moods.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” That's what you told Damiano when he debriefed you the next evening, a chip to mark 24 hours sober clutched in his fist. He’d disclosed his relapse in group and sobbed, despite hardy efforts not to shed a tear. You make dinner and stroke his hair when Dami lays his head on your lap. He’s cynical, not receptive to positive affirmation. Unfortunately, this mood has become more common as the years pass. So you focus on gestures: nicely making his bed, meal prepping his breakfast, cleaning the litter box even though it was his turn. 

Surprisingly, Damiano requests you read aloud some favorite passages from the books you’ve finished since the breakup. You’d always thought of that as an activity for your sake. Of course he doesn’t actually use the word “breakup.” Dami won’t touch that terminology with a 10 foot pole. He’s grumpy and lovable, snuggled under the pale pink bed sheet as you speak.

Dami returned the favor by waking you up with coffee, which became a tradition on weekdays. He probably got up 10 minutes earlier than necessary to do so. The first morning you thought it was a glorious dream. Instead of the abrasive and occasionally rage-inducing beep of your alarm, a hand you recognized as Damiano’s was rubbing your back. It slides under your t-shirt and gently strokes your spine. You shiver and hum in delight, then scooch closer. Eyes still closed, the bed dips and you sense Dami taking a seat on the edge. The morning light pours in through the curtains – to which you have your back turned – as the scent of espresso reaches your nose. Such sensory perfection must be fantasy.

“It’s time to wake up,” he murmurs.

“Mm mm.” You object and scoot closer, curling around Damiano. He chuckles and massages your scalp with his fingertips. 

“Big stretch,” he narrates as Cheeto rouses herself by his feet. You can tell it’s not Princess, since she’d be meowing by the bedroom door as soon as she heard Damiano up and about. Finally, your brain starts to register that this might be reality, since you never dreamed of Cheeto and Dami simultaneously. You open one eye and are accosted by the bright light, confirming that this isn’t a dream.

“Hey,” you croak, squinting up at him. “What time is it?”

“A couple minutes before your alarm. I turned it off.” You readjust, head, shoulders, and arms splayed across Dami’s lap. “I don’t think that counts as getting out of bed.”

“I’d like to contest that.”

“Getting out of bed in general or if laying on my lap counts?”

“Yes,” you sigh, eyes falling closed.

“Mm mm, keep ‘em open,” he requests, affectionately. You whine in protest and pout. More than anything, you want to pull Dami into the bed for cuddles, but it’d make you late for work.

“Fine.” Awkwardly, you flip onto your back to stare up at Damiano. He’s smiling, which is good motivation to keep looking.

“You’re cute when it’s too bright. You squint so hard that you get this little line between your eyebrows.” He runs his finger along your nose, then taps your cupid’s bow. You’d very much like him to keep going, gently stroking your features. He delicately moves the hair from your face and your eyelids grow heavy. Damiano tsks, working a hand between your mid-back and the mattress.

“Sit up. C’mon.” With a sigh, you detangle your legs from the sheet. “C’mon,” he coaxes sweetly. “When you’re ready to stop pouting, there's coffee.” Your feet land on the floor as Damiano helps push you upright. After a couple sips of espresso, your pupils adapt and the brain begins working. Dami remains seated, hand on your back, and you love that he’s content to just share space. Love that things don’t always have to be full of words and amusements for one another.

“Thank you, this is so nice!” You hug Dami with messy enthusiasm, leaning some of your weight against him. Damiano embraces back and kisses your head.

“I’m happy to do it, sweetheart.” His hand resumes stroking your spine, the other moving the hair from blocking your face. “Just stay awake.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, standing up and stretching. Dami doesn’t move, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of something. You want the physical affection to continue so badly that it hurts in your chest a little. So you give into an urge before thinking about it and sit on Damiano’s lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders. 

“Wha – hey there, sweetheart.” Aware of morning breath, you kiss Dami’s neck, hairline, and behind his ears. “Feeling a little touch-starved?” You nod. Slowly, he slides his hands under your shirt. By touch-starved, you hadn’t necessarily meant skin to skin. Damiano sneakily took advantage of an opportunity by reading into it and you certainly weren’t mad about his decision. 

Things start innocent enough, his hands rubbing your back, but then they move away from your spine. When stroking around your waist and hips, his fingertips brushed your stomach, pinky dipping underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts. Then those hands slide up, cupping your ribcage. You stop breathing, frozen with anticipation. Would he touch your breast? Would he slide his hand to the front of your chest and caress it in his warm, rough palm? Would he play with your nipples? Rub them with the callous on his thumb? Would he then slide his hand down your front and into your shorts? If he did, you’d raise your hips to give him room. Then you’d trap his hand against your pussy and grind. Did he want to tease you today or make you moan? Or make you cum? 

When you check his expression, Dami’s eyes are glued to your heaving chest and erect nipples. Knowing that he’s hard, you throw a leg over and straddle him. Then you scoot in as close as possible to rest your weight against his erection, stimulating both of you. Damiano’s eyes flutter and his hands escalate from stroking to grasping. You wait for him to make the nest move, but he doesn’t.

“If you could do anything –”

“If I could do anything you’d be underneath me and too wracked with pleasure to say anything but my name and the word please. If I could do anything the neighbors would be filing a noise complaint and you’d be on probation at work for repeated tardiness. If I could do anything we’d have already gone through a bottle of lube and half a dozen sex toys. Our clothes would be on the doormat, panties included because last night we fucked against the front door as soon as you got home. Then again on the kitchen counter and again in front of the bathroom mirror and a fourth time in the shower, which was all a preamble to what I’d do to you in this bed.” 

You look over his shoulder at the mattress cover and twisted sheet. You’d gotten in the habit of sleeping on Dami’s side. It hadn’t actually smelled like him for months.

“What would you do?” he asks.

“I…I have to get ready for work.” You try to climb off his lap, but Damiano holds onto your waist firmly.

“Did what I said offend you?” he pressed.

“No,” you reply breathlessly. The moment is deliciously intense, especially the way he’s staring.

“Overwhelm you? Turn you off in some way?”

“Uh, no. Well, maybe overwhelm a little bit…”

“In a bad way?” Dami hasn’t forced the issue in terms of sex since coming home.

“In a good way.”

“Then what would you do? If you didn’t have to get ready for work.” You pause and look down. “We don’t have to actually do it, at least not right now,” he whispers.

“I would – I want you….Um, you’d play with my nipples.”

“Mhm.” His hand slides up your chest and rests on your sternum.

“Then you’d put – push your hand down my front.” Dami obeys, his fingertips stopping at the waistband of your shorts. You stare, willing him to go further with every ounce of your being.

“Does my hand go under your shorts?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Does it go into your panties?”

“Yes.” His real hand doesn’t move. “Between my legs so I can…Actually, I kinda wish that I was just wearing a t-shirt so I could pull your pjs down and grind against your cock. And then, maybe…”

“Mhm,” he encourages.

“I’d take off my shirt too and rub my nipples against your chest until they were sore. Your – your sweaty, hairy chest. And you’d hold me like you weren’t worried about scaring me away. Really grabbing me, like you were confident, but also because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Show me what you mean,” he demands.

“I – I can’t. You just have to.” Dami grabs a hold of your upper thigh with his free hand and flips both bodies. Your back lands on the mattress, arms and legs already wrapped around him. Damiano pushes you further onto the bed, so he has room to climb on top.  It would take less than a minute for you to both wiggle out of your clothes then locate a condom and lube. Probably closer to 30 seconds. It's the same sensation as the makeout two mornings ago. You wanted to say yes, but your self preservation instincts weren’t letting that happen.

Damiano searches your wide-eyed expression for decisiveness and finds nothing of the sort. He can see you thinking about it. Then he sees you over-thinking it and knows that this will not be the moment you feel comfortable enough to trust freely.

“Like this?” He’s panting, as well, and for some reason, that's unbearable sexy. Dami isn’t putting on a facade. This borderline chaste amount of physical contact has got him worked up, too. You almost kiss him, then recall your morning breath and cover your mouth.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“Y/n, I don’t give a good god damn whether or not you’ve brushed your teeth. I don’t care!” Dami loses his cool, but quickly recovers it. “I – sorry. Sorry, let me…” He walks his hands backwards and climbs off the bed, then helps you stand up.

“Thank you for the coffee,” you repeat, taking a long sip, that way a response won’t be expected. As you slip by Dami to leave the bedroom, he gives your butt a little squeeze. It was once a regular gesture in private, but he hadn’t taken this type of initiative since getting sober. You whip around with an impish smile, the mug nearly held to your lips. Damiano’s expression is watchful, then validated. He was testing the waters and your reaction basically invited him to jump right in.

Rather than refocus on his own routine, Dami watches you assemble a lunch while still in pajamas. He stands on the edge of the kitchen, pondering something, admiring you.

“Whatever your timeline for physical intimacy, I will respect it, 100%.”

“I know that, Damia.” You wash and fill your water bottle. He leans his hip against the counter with crossed arms. 

“But if you're waiting for things to feel not scary with me, that day may never come. Our history isn’t gonna get more palatable.” You hadn’t considered things from that perspective before. “Part of a nurturing relationship is pushing each other, challenging restrictive thought patterns.” Damiano moseys over. First, his right hand cups your hip. Then, the left rubs the side of your glute languidly, before wrapping around your middle. Dami holds you casually, but still body to body, standing behind you at the kitchen sink. Each exhale ruffles your hair, a reminder of how much you’d missed this. Dami’s wandering hands and desire for closeness.

This must have been another thing you blocked out for survival, since an awareness of what once was made losing it lethally painful. You’d forced yourself not to remember and now the remembering felt like the first first bloom of spring after a frosty winter. 

You lean against Dami, let his shoulder take the weight of your head. Then you lay your left arm over his, fingers lacing together.

“And I don’t want to push past your boundaries, but at the same time…” He leaves tender kisses down the column of your exposed neck. “This definitely exceeds a hand holding level of intimacy. It breaks the no couple behavior boundary –”

“Me and my fucking rules,” you groan. Repeated back, you sound certifiable, even from an understanding Damiano.

“This certainly qualifies as sexual touch.” His pinky and ring finger dip under your waistband as he dips into a whisper. “But I didn’t ask first and I don’t have to ask now, either, because just your body language is telling me how much you like this.”

“Forgot until just now.” With an even more dramatic groan, you turn around to meet his eyes. “Ugh! I know I’m shit at this –”

“Not what I was saying, at all,” he interrupts, thumb brushing your cheek. “I was just gonna suggest using a Listen for My No system of consent instead of Wait for My Yes. But that's such a sexually aggressive thing to suggest on someone else’s behalf that I…” He makes a face, nose scrunched up.

“But I agree with you. I’d like that, I really would, but, um…” Dami’s expression goes from relieved back to uneasy. “When I submit, I can’t usually access the decision making part of my brain. Kinda the point, actually.” 

“Baby, we never do anything in subspace if we haven’t agreed to it first.”

“I know, but I’d feel –” You gesture erratically, but the right adjective never surfaces. So you settle on “shitty, I guess.” Avoidant, you stare at the floor in anticipation of Dami’s reaction. Of course, Princess is right there, biding her time for the inevitable moment that all this attention is rightfully turned to her. “Sassy Pants,” you coo. She rests her front paws on your shin and meows, so you pick her up.

“Y/n, I never want you to – awe, look at the fur baby.” Damiano gets distracted by Princess, who uses you like an elevator to his shoulder. She leaps onto him and Dami winces at her claws through his thin t-shirt. “Ow, ow, ow. Thanks for that Sassy Pants, now get off.” He sets Princess back down where she stares at him in betrayal.

“I’m sorry, was having him to yourself all night not enough attention?” You sass her right back with a hand on your hip while Dami laughs. The cat sulks, nimbly returning to the couch and curling up right on his pillow. “Do you see that? She’s the real reason we practice non-monogamy. So I don’t end up with my throat slit in my fucking sleep by her murder mittens!” Hoping to have successfully distracted him, you brush your teeth then slip back into the bedroom to get dressed. In the living room Dami sings to Princess, doing a little dance with her paws. The happy sounds carry through the partially ajar door.

“So, uh…” You’d almost finished pulling on your stockings when he leans against the door frame. “Sorry, am I allowed to look?”

“Yes, you’re allowed to look,” you scoff. He turns the corner just in time to watch your thighs disappear beneath a linen skirt. His lack of objection indicates that your earlier distraction wasn’t effective. He’s not feeling playful.

“What I was saying before is that I never want you to feel bad about putting parameters –”

“Damia, it’s not that.” He’s trying to soften the determination in his expression. “If I allow my rational mind to just slip away then I’m gonna…” again, words evade you “embarrass myself.”

“What do you mean embarrass yourself?” he croons. Damiano walks into the bedroom, cupping your cheek in his right palm. Meanwhile, his left hand slides across your waist and settles on the top of your glute. Another barrage of hidden memories: the early years when Damiano spoke your self-confidence into being fruition on anxiety-ridden mornings.

“I mean grind against your lap or leg or whatever while begging you to fuck me until I sob in a way that’s gonna hurt you to watch. Zero inhibitions as I try to convince you, okay? Just babbling and clinging and tears for your cock. ‘Daddy, my heart hurts because you won’t make love to me.’ I don’t want either of us in a position to navigate that.” Damiano becomes a statue. When it doesn’t immediately pass, you decide to pick a pair of sensible shoes while his brain resets.

“Does your heart hurt for more intimacy?” Now you’re the one frozen in place. “Seems like you may have just accidentally been completely honest with yourself.” Fuck. He was right.

“Could you pretend not to know me as well as you do?”

“No, y/n, I can’t.” You’d tried to lighten the mood, give yourself an out, and he’s rejected that effort wholesale. Damiano stands there, waiting for a real response, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. Every morning he puts them on, after sleeping in his boxers, to make you comfortable. It suddenly feels so elementary, this game of pretend you’d been playing because you were scared shitless of losing him again. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a nervous wreck.”

“Being a nervous wreck about what?” You’re taken aback, having expected some sweet platitude like "don't be sorry, sweetheart.” Or perhaps, “You’re trying your best in a tough situation” punctuated by a kiss to the forehead. But you’d finally exhausted his patience and Damiano wasn’t going to feed you reassurances that you already knew to be true.

“About,” you gesture between your bodies “us!”

“Elaborate for me, please. What about us?” His tone isn’t hostile, just insistent.

“Our relationship.”

“Not my sobriety?”

“No…actually.” You’re even more surprised than Dami at that answer.

“Good. Why is our relationship making you a nervous wreck?”

“Because, because…” You feel cornered even though he hasn’t moved an inch. “I’m not sure.”

“Yes you are. You’re constantly reflecting and self-examining, especially recently. Some days you’re more in your head than you are in the world.”

“But the last couple days, I’ve been better at staying in the present. After our fight, I’ve been trying not to walk on eggshells.” 

“And we’ve been so much more connected, which has been fucking incredible. But you’re still unhappy.”

“I’m not…” Were you happy? You should be happy. You have an objectively good job, a beautiful apartment. You have a loving family, loving friends, loving companions. Your soulmate has returned and he’s stable. But were you happy? With a subjectively horrible job, home full of traumatic memories, emotionally unavailable parents, fading friendships, and companions who’s reassurance couldn’t make you feel adequate so you’d stopped asking for it entirely. 

“How many months do I need to go without relapse, without a crazy mood swing, without –”

“To get your dick wet?” You snap at him in anger. This was the definition of pressuring you.

“For you to trust me, y/n!”

“But sex is the way to show that I trust you? Go get laid, Damianno. Stop avoiding your other companions because you’re afraid they won’t forgive your behavior.”

“You get laid. Stop avoiding your companions because they remind you how profound our intimacy could be.” For what feels like an eon, you glare at each other in silence.

“How about we both admit that having sex with other people wouldn’t do anything to fill this…space?” It feels good to concede. Most of the tension leaves the air.

“Void?”

“Void is probably more accurate, yeah.” It’s just enough breathing room for reality to set in. “Fuck, I’m gonna be late for work.” You look around frantically for a hair tie to wrangle your unbrushed hair into an updo.

“Can you please just give this conversation another five minutes of your time?” There's a hair elastic on the floor, by your nightstand. You make a noise of victory, trying to remember if your travel hairbrush was still in the glovebox. “Three minutes?” he pleads. It’s too much. Mentally, you try to check out as an act of self-preservation. In your peripheral vision, Damiano snatches your phone off the bed. You can’t leave without it.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m asking how long until you can trust me?”

“For me to trust you completely?” That gives Dami pause. He seems to realize that it's a pretty big question to spring on you before 9 AM. ”Check the phone you’re holding hostage for the time, please.” So begins the hunt for your purse.

“It’s…” With a strained voice, he looks at the home screen. Then his hand drops to his side. “It doesn’t matter. I am asking you – How about when are you gonna be able to at least trust that I’m not gonna abandon you?” Despite attempts to create space between yourself and this moment, it feels like being stabbed with a dull spear, right through the center of your torso. “Hey!” he finally raises his voice in exhasperation. “Can you at least fucking look at me when I’m bearing my soul to you!?” Both cats are hiding under the kitchen table. Standing in the kitchen, you turn to meet his gaze.

“I’m gonna be late for work.” 

“Then be late! You hate that job anyways!” The shock reads easily on your features.. “I – that was out of line. Sorry. But this is never gonna work right until you trust me.” Your stomach drops. You feel nauseous and something akin to the beginnings of dissociation. This is why you’d been avoiding tough conversations. What if it went wrong? And if it did go wrong, what was going to happen? The ways Damiano had evolved as a person since going to rehab were great, but it also meant that you couldn’t predict his behavior anymore. If he walked out in anger, would he walk back in?

“Baby, that was really bad phrasing on my part.” His tone shifts completely,  soft and doting in the way you’d expected it to be earlier. “Way too extreme.” Dami knew he’d scared you. That took precedence over what he so desperately wanted to achieve with this conversation. You have half a mind to run into his arms. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s gonna make me feel reassured that you won’t abandon me.”

“You don’t know, as in you can’t think of anything?”

“I don’t know!” You curl your hands into tight fists, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

“Giving me an answer you regret and take back would be better than this purgatory.” Demand has officially overtaken supply. You’d required so much patience from Dami that it’d burned through all the categorical gratitude he felt for taking him back in any capacity. He was no longer just grateful to be here, he wanted a partner. 

“If your answer is I don’t think I can ever trust you again, so be it.”

“I can trust you! I do trust you, but you’re also…” He’s hanging on to every word and you can’t even craft a basic sentence. “There’s you, but then there’s also an addict you. The first one earned my trust back more easily than I’d care to admit, but the addict you, he – it’s always there.”

“And you can never trust an addict.”

“No! But, but –” The phrase “never gonna work” rattles around in your head. “No, because…because” then we might break-up. You barely think the thought, but it's like a tripwire. Suddenly trapped under all the ways you could lose Damiano. Originally there were two contenders: freak accident and growing apart. Then fame was added to this list, then addiction. Now you had to acknowledge a fifth. Like the fifth side to a cage that can finally hold you captive, invisible to others, making them helpless to do anything but watch the light leave your eyes. He might break-up with you because you couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces back together.

“Hug me.” Damiano crosses the apartment in a few quick steps. The stinging of tears distracts you from returning the embrace, but that doesn't give him pause. The only reason you weren’t blubbering already was how secure he’d made you feel the past few days. Now that was out the window.

“Continuous hugging or do you want room to breathe?”

“Breathe,” you choke, wiping your eyes. Dami’s version of breathing room was taking half a step back and resting both hands on your hips. It was perfect.

“Be brave a little longer,” he coaxes.

“I don’t want us to…God, it’s like saying Voldemort or some shit.”

“The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named that starts with a ‘B’ and ends in the word ‘up?’”

“Yeah, I…No, I don’t even want to talk about it, Damia.”

“That's adorable.” You rest your forehead against his sternum and whine. He cups the base of your head and you loosely cross your arms behind him. “But I do need to know what made you think of The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named.”

“What if,” you resume hugging him instead of finishing the sentence. “What if I can never learn to trust the addict part of you and it happens?”

“I don’t trust the addict part of me, y/n. After everything that’s happened, I sure as shit don’t expect you to.” You pull away in order to look up in confusion. “Awe, sweetheart. I just need you to trust that this part of me has control over that shithead.”

“But relapse happens and – and you’ll always be an addict and an alcoholic. This is permanently a part of you.”

“Can you trust that I’m always gonna do my damndest not to lose control? And if I do I’m gonna find my way back?” 

“It hasn’t even been three weeks.” Dami opens his mouth, closes it, and nods.

“Yeah thats a fucking good point. Damn.” He’s reeling. It’s interesting to see it happen to someone else. “I’m over here fuckin’...demanding to know when you’re gonna trust me again when I haven’t even given you a full month of stability.” You place a hand on Dami’s cheek, trying to redirect his gaze back to yours so he doesn’t get lost in self-loathing. He turns his head, but looks down. “I’m fucking comparing ‘well, I feel this way about her so –’”

“How do you feel about me?” His eyes flit up and you think the romantic in him might win.

“I feel the same way.” Or not. “Because it's easy to fall in love with somebody again and trust them again when they’re the same person. When they don’t have all this new baggage like I do.” Staring at his feet, Damiano mutters, “Nothing to compensate or…”

“You do not need to compensate, what a ridiculous thing to say!” 

“Okay.” You watch him only partially internalize your words, in the same way he raises his eyes, but doesn’t quite look at you.

“Hey, you getting sober created new character traits that I love and am attracted to.”

“Enough to balance out the shit?” You scoff, taken aback.

“Yes! You’re not a fucking equation, Damia. You are a beautiful, compelling man who contains multitudes with this incredible capacity to create multitudes. Don’t separate yourself into these categories of worthwhile or not worthwhile.”

“Y/n.”

“It’s so linear. You’re reduced to a collection of likable traits when –”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he announces. You allow yourself to be pulled in by the back of the head, eyes falling to his mauve, shapely lips. It’s sweet, slow, polite. It’s a gesture. It’s a this-kiss-conveys-my-love-and-respect-because-it's-not-the-kiss-I-wanted-to-give-you gesture. It’s a gesture that reveals he’s forgotten the comment you made earlier this morning.

“Lets,” one syllable and you feel short of breath. “Let's have the big scary talk tonight – tomorrow night! Let's have it tomorrow night.”

“Alright.” Damiano coaxes you back in by holding your chin and brushing his pointer finger back and forth. It tickles faintly and makes you smile into the equally chaste kiss. “Don’t forget, you have therapy today.”

***

“I’m only here to avoid the missed appointment fee, honestly.” You slouch, as if trying to disappear into the chartreuse loveseat. 

“Oh?” Your therapist puts pen to paper and waits for elaboration. You stare at the floor and feel the pressure of tears behind your eyes. It's been like that since leaving the apartment, as though you were one inconvenience away from crying.

“Your disposition is certainly much different from our recent sessions.” Dr. Borough gives you another chance to speak, which you don’t take. She’s wearing all beige, minus an oversized necklace of reflective black beads. The color palette certainly suits the mood.

“Is it Damiano, work, anxiety that's been weighing on you?”

“All of the above.” After arriving 13 minutes late for work, Izolda called you into her stuffy, windowless office. She chastised you for being tardy twice in two weeks and you didn’t have the balls to point out that she’d personally excused the first instance. There were vague references to your performance review and callous comments about “allowing personal experiences to impede project outcomes.”

“Wow. So it's been a tough week?”

“It’s been emotionally laborious…So, yeah. Tough, I guess.”

“But productive?”

“Not when it comes to my job. That place is so devoid of humanity that I can feel part of my soul dying.”

“Sounds like you might need a change. Have you tried searching for –”

“I can’t handle a career change right now!”

“So what can you handle?” Finally, you burst into tears. “Oh, dear.” Dr. Borough pushes the box of tissues across the coffee table. “So what's going on in the other facets of your life? Are you and Damiano on good terms?”

“Yeah. He woke me up with espresso this morning, it was really sweet.” You wipe your face, which leaves a black smudge of hastily applied mascara on the white tissue.  

“And his sobriety?”

“He relapsed trying to reintegrate too fast. It was just booze and he’s been sober since.”

“Wow.” She scribbles on her notepad. “So that must have been triggering.”

“It…It actually made me realize how sturdy he is. Like, he got right back on the wagon and he started really acting like himself the next morning. He didn’t go back to being an asshole with a passive death wish, he did the opposite.”

“So that sounds like great news!”

“I was such a mess, such a fucking mess.” The note taking intensifies. Somehow Dr. Borough is already halfway down the page. “He was so supportive! And he basically confronted me.”

“You mean comforted?”

“No. Well, yes. He’s noticed that I’m always in my head, trying to figure out the correct or most true course of action. And he said I didn’t need to be, because I wasn’t going to ruin his sobriety. Because he was taking care of his sobriety with a bunch of people at his rehab and stuff, so I didn’t need to prioritize it anymore. I could just prioritize myself and I could depend on him because he’s gotten to a point where he can be my support and also stay sober. But I –” you devolve into sobbing.

“Alright, take a moment. Just take a moment, y/n.” Dr. Borough doesn’t look up from her notepad for several seconds. “So, that's huge! How many days ago was that? You must be emotionally drained.”

“Yeah, from not dealing with it.”

“You’re emotionally drained from purposefully ignoring emotions?”

“Basically.” 

“Alright.” Visibly processing, Dr. Borough adjusts her teal glasses and sits back. “Tell me about that.”

“Damiano just keeps pressing the issue. He wants to deconstruct and cross-examine the whole fucking situation immediately.” 

“Is this usually the case, him pursuing hard conversations and you avoiding? In the past, you’ve mentioned having great communication.” It feels like an accusation that you’ve failed Damiano somehow.

“No, I’m just not ready.”

“Ready for what?” 

“These fucking exhausting, weighty conversations!”

“What about them are you not ready for? In my experience, you can be very articulate, especially when it comes to emotions.”

“I’m not scared of talking about our feelings. We talk about our feelings all the time, anyways. I’m not even scared of conflict. We’ve fought twice this week already!”

“Oh, really?”

“But we work it out because we can admit that we’re wrong. We don’t get off on resenting or controlling each other.”

“What were those fights about?”

“This! Me!”

“You?”

“Ugh!” You throw your head back and groan. “He…thinks that I’m unhappy. I’m making myself miserable trying to do the right thing or by trying to control…something, us.”

“The right thing?” She raises one thinning eyebrow. 

“What's best for me.”

“Doing what's best for you is doing what makes you happy. It’s doing what makes you fulfilled, puts you on the path to achieve your goals.” Dr. Borough pauses, staring at you pointedly. “In terms of Damiano. What are your goals? What will make you fulfilled?”

“Being together for real, harmonious, mind, body, and soul.”

“And are your current choices facilitating that?” You feel claustrophobic, fingernails digging into the heel of your hand again. “Why the anxiety?” 

“Because I can’t control him!”

“True. But that’s always been true, y/n.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter what my goals are if the other person doesn’t feel the same.”

“You think Damiano doesn’t feel the same?”

“Well, no. I know he does.”

“Alright. So let's talk about this desire to control him.” That definitely felt like an accusation. “I just watched you have a strong reaction. Why don’t you explain that to me.” Pen to paper, Dr. Borough waits while you roll your eyes and huff in annoyance.

“Before I ever stepped foot in this office, I knew that the desire to control another person was toxic. I was already taking steps to ignore that desire when I felt it.”

“So you’re not trying to control him? That's not what's making you miserable?”

“I’m not miserable,” you bite.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “But you are experiencing bouts of unhappiness, like right now. You also have clinical anxiety which constantly affects your quality of life. Agreed?”

“Yeah…” The section of carpet at your feet is more worn than another other spot in the room.

“Explain to me why that is.” You choose to be insolent instead of introspective. 

“It’s impossible to tack down exactly what collection of innate and external factors contribute to any one person developing –”

“Not the anxiety, y/n.”

“I…” don’t know. But Dr. Borough wasn’t going to let you off the hook. She waits expectantly. You check the clock to find that the session isn’t quite halfway done. Damn it.

“Why are you unhappy?”

“I’m at my therapy appointment when I’d much rather be taking a nap.”

“How has your sleep been since Damiano’s relapse?”

“Worse than usual, better than expected. We…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t judge me, but the night he relapsed we slept in the same bed. Like, I slept with him on the couch.”

“‘Slept with’ as in…?”

“Cuddled.” You blush all the way up to your ears.

“And that was enjoyable.” It’s apparently obvious from your delivery since Dr. Borough makes a statement, not a question.

“Yeah and…I could hear him crying so hard. I didn’t intend to spend the night there either, but I got sleepy really quick.” A stinging sensation alerts that you’d been picking at your cuticles without realizing. “Because it felt so safe.”

“Huh. So it didn’t feel like the kiss on the plane?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why are you unhappy?” You glower, finally meeting Dr. Borough’s eyes. She is unfazed. “Damiano has the same relationship goals and it sounds as though he may be ready to act on those goals, right?” You don’t protest, because she’s correct, but you also don’t concede. “So this should be great news! It’s exactly what you wanted, which is why this reaction raises questions. I know it’ll be hard to admit, but maybe now that you have Damiano back, you’ve realized that your feelings towards him have changed.”

“What? No! God, I fucking wish I felt more casually about him. I wish that he couldn’t read my mind and that we didn’t have this fucking soul bond and that I could have a halfway satisfying sex life without him. I want to stop watching him sleep, getting choked up when I see his bougie shampoo in the shower, huffing his dirty gym clothes, and feeling like my heart’s been ripped out because I love him so much. I want to be less in love with him!”

“No, you don’t.” Dr. Borough sets the notepad and pen on her lap and settles into her chair with a smile. There’s been some sort of breakthrough or resolution reached. “So what's the real reason you’re self-sabotaging? Do you feel like you don’t deserve him?”

“I…guess.”

“Don’t guess.”

“Deep down inside somewhere, probably.”

“So is that it?”

“You’re the therapist.”

“And you’re far from emotionally repressed.” Dr. Borough purses her lips and squints. “So are you afraid of losing him?” You swallow hard, vision blurring with tears.

“Yes, of course. Now with these fucking high stakes conversations, what if something goes wrong?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything!”

“Based on what you've said so far, it sounds like you guys would work it out.”

“What if we break up?”

“Does it feel like you’re going to break up?”

“No.” You blow your nose and steel yourself. “I need him. I’ve let myself need him again. So I can’t, ca – can’t lose hi – him again. I can’t! It’ll fucking kill me. I don’t care if you think that's dramatic, because it genuinely feels like I’d die of heartbreak. Even thinking a – about it, can’t – I ca – ca –can’t breathe!” Dr. Borough ends up talking you off the edge of a panic attack. You think that’ll earn some slack, but it doesn’t. 

“Okay, so just take small sips of water.” She uses her most soothing voice as you hold the paper cup in a trembling hand. “I’m going to be candid with you, y/n. Breaking up has always been a possibility and you’ve functioned despite it for years. Damiano dying of an overdose, however, is new. I think that’s what’s scaring you, the fact that death is irreparable.” You manage a nod. “Alright. That risk factor is never going away. So you have to decide if he’s worth it.”

“Of course he’s…” It's reminiscent of what Dami said this morning, which forces you to acknowledge that he was probably right. Putting the pieces back together was going to feel terrifying and you had to do it anyway. “I have all these rules to stop things from progressing before I’m ready. But maybe I’m never going to feel ready.”

“Progressing?”

“To stop Dami from getting too close, from things getting too intimate. I compartmentalized so damn much and I…every time I let him a little bit closer, it's like being hit by a semi-truck.”

“Reminders of his substance abuse?”

“No, beautiful memories of how our love manifested, all the ways we connected and felt at home in each other, felt profoundly understood. Memories of being joyous and intimate and becoming better people together.” Dr. Borough is noticeably moved. 

“You choose to close yourself off to that because of the possibility of pain?” 

“Yes!”

“That’s not living.” Finally, someone had just outright said it. You should feel stunned, but you don’t. “We’ve talked about living versus surviving in terms of your anxiety. The same can happen after trauma. Seeing Dami on life support –”

“Haven’t we already talked about that enough?” Reflexively, you make yourself smaller, hunkering down to survive this horrendous topic.

“I don’t know. Based on this reaction –”

“Based on this reaction, seeing my soulmate an inch from death is still traumatic? Shocking!”

“Traumatic, absolutely.” The even tonality of her speech is an embarrassing juxtaposition to your reactivity, but you’re still unable to quell it. “And based on your reaction, that memory still holds tremendous power over you.”

“Of fucking course it does! I still can’t even think about it like a real thing that happened to me!”

“I recall you’ve been dealing with a lot of dissociation, recently. More than usual.” Dr. Borough resumes note taking.

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because I can’t handle what's happening around me,” you reply, monotonously.

“You think you can’t handle what's happening around you because a parentified, 15-year-old y/n without an emotional support system couldn’t handle it.” She pauses. In that space, tears blur your vision until the view of the damaged carpet and scuffed shoes becomes indiscernible. “But now you have an emotional support system. You are deserving of an emotional support system, which is something that your parents failed to model in your childhood.” Again, Dr. Borough gives you space to speak, but you curl into a ball, instead. She nudges the tissues further across the table with an empathetic expression. “So you’re protecting her.”

“I am not protecting my mother,” you grumble.

“Not your mother. You’ve been protecting 15-year-old y/n, shielding her. And now you’re protecting the y/n who was confronted by the mortality of her support system’s keystone. Neither of them could handle the present moment, but you can.” Dr. Borough cleans her glasses while waiting for you to say something. Maybe it's an intentional respite from being examined.

“What – How can –” your first reaction is to splutter incredulously. “I’m not, I mean I’m – That's just human development, isn’t it? Burning your hand on the stove teaches you not to touch a hot stove. Burns are bad. They scar, they get infected.”

“Y/n, you are not avoiding a burn. You are eating takeout for every meal to avoid going in the kitchen at all. You are putting on noise canceling headphones everytime someone says the word ‘stove’ and singing to yourself loudly. In this metaphor –”

“I get it, I get it.” Well, shit.

“You’ve heard me say this before: the anxiety, the trauma isn’t your fault. However, coping constructively is still your responsibility. And, yes, that’s unfair. You had to live for your emotionally unequipped parents. In reaction to that hospital visit, I think you may have done a bit of living for Damiano when he was emotionally unequipped for sobriety. Now you’re living for the versions of yourself that are emotionally unequipped to handle the present. But it won’t break you like it might have then.”

“How can you know that!? How…I just want time to recover! I want to be certain!”

“There will never be certainty and there will never be a pause button. I know that's a really hard reality to face with clinical anxiety.” Dr. Borough sets her elbows on her notepad and leans forward. “But y/n, face it you must.”

***

You hold it together on the drive home. Knowing that Dami will be on a Zoom call with his songwriting and production team, you don’t want to walk through the front door a mess and distract him. Unfortunately, Spotify decides to play Folklore-era Taylor Swift as you pull into the parking garage.

I knew you/Hand under my sweatshirt/Baby, kiss it better

By the time the car is parked, you’re already crying. Your first group outing as a couple was a Roma football game with most of his friends and several cousins. The omnipresent barrage of screaming made your ears ring and triggered a panic attack. You tried to suppress your reaction, for which you’d finally receive a diagnosis just weeks later. When that became impossible, you settled on concealing your emotions until it passed. Just don’t freak out. For fucks sake, don’t embaress yourself. 

Having turned your focus inward, the roar of the audience was a surprise and so inescapably loud that it couldn’t even be described by volume. The sound became a tangible force, beating you over the head. So you fled, hands clamped over your ears, tears flowing. It seemed like every person you passed chided you. 

“‘Msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry,” you repeated, voice frail and high-pitched with terror. The adrenaline at least made climbing all those steps easier. Upon reaching the hallway at the top of the staircase, you turned around to scan the field, determining it was a good time to drop your hands. That's when you saw 18-year-old Damiano huffing and puffing, all focus dropped from the game behind him. 

“Hey,” he panted, expression confused. “Hey, you just…Are you okay?” You shook your head, mouth contorted into an ugly shape. “Well, come here, baby.” Dami opened his arms like it was obviously the next logical step to hold you. The gesture revealed that he’d remembered your purse and was wearing it. You could have blurted out “I love you,” right then and there. His sparkling, empathetic eyes framed by smeared eyeliner, outstretched hands decorated by gaudy rings, and wearing his lucky sneakers which were at least a size too small. A couple middle-aged, balding men looked him up and down in disgust. Dami didn’t even notice.

“You need a hug,’ he decided, wrapping you up. 

“Thanks,” you croaked, trembling arms finding steadiness where they held him. 

“What’s wrong with her?” asked a male voice passing by.

“Nothings wrong with her! Who the fuck are you, eh?”

“Sorry, man.”

“No, who the fuck do you think you are saying that?”

“You’re in the middle of the walkway, dude.”

“And you’re in the middle of my fucking business, asshole!”

“Damia,” you murmured.

“Sorry, sorry.” You wondered if he could discern your smile against his pilling jersey. The fabric made your face feel raw after exposure to the ruthlessly cold gusts of wind that swept up the sides of the stadium. Still, you felt compelled to hug him tighter, but ignored the compulsion so as not to encourage Damiano acting like an attack dog. But fuck if it hadn’t made you feel chosen at age 18, coming from a family who’s attitude was god forbid your emotions inconvenience anyone. 

Damiano didn’t think you were too emotional, the girl choking on her own tears over a football audience being predictably loud. He stood in the stadium’s walkway, inconveniencing everyone else to prioritize comforting you. Despite not knowing what was awry, he still managed to be soothing. Dami’s inexplicably warm hands rubbed your back under the Roma sweatshirt you wore – actually his, of course. He hummed music from the radio with a cheek pressed to your head and you subsequently felt the music’s vibrations. It tickled. An unfamiliar sensation burgeoned in the darkest recesses of your heart. Not then, but eventually, you’d come to know it as stillness.

Notes: Don't yell at me I warned you! Also I'll post the next part (the smuttastic part) when this post has 40 notes hehe

-XOXO Eden

✧ The Sun is the Center of Everything Table of Contents

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[f4ngedgirl]

no minors!!!

to any måneskin writers out there, i would love me some switch!damiano sucking on readers strap? … here’s the video that inspired it, im going feral 🙏

[nonvaleniente]

From Fx to a D // Professor Damiano AU! x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Damiano x reader

Summary: Y/N was never good at learning foreign languages. It got even harder when the most handsome man she has ever seen started teaching her Italian class and got her distracted all the time. He seemingly noticed her interest in him and one trip to the library lead into something more interesting...

Warnings: SWEARING, SMUT, PUBLIC SEX, UNI TEACHER-STUDENT RELATIONSHIP, PROBABLY INCORRECT ITALIAN WORDS/PHRASES (I used Google translate because I am too embarrased to ask my italian learning friends to help me with smut lol), ALSO BARELY PROOFREAD BC I AM STUPID AND NEED TO RUSH THINGS

Y/F/N - your friend's name

Y/L/N - your last name

IT IS FINALLY HERE!

Yes, I promised it would come out on Monday but I literally cannot grasp the concept of time. Managing it is really something I need to work on. But I hope no one is that mad at me. Now, let's enjoy this trip to horny-town, shall we?

ENJOY!

Don't forget to leave any sort of feedback and reblog if you like it!

You couldn't keep your eyes off him.

You weren't able since the first day of last semester. When he walked through the door, his messy hair and white shirt with few buttons undone on the top, you knew you were screwed. He looked like a roman god. Straight out of historical romance novels. The perfect little stubble showing on his face made your mind wander off many times. Wondering, how would it feel scratching against your thighs, with him between them. Oh, how many nights you thought about him leading you to the professors' lounge and after closing the door, slamming you against them and not having any mercy.

You had no chance.

You had to keep reminding yourself to get out of these little daydreams. To actually pay attention to his words, you had to fight yourself every Tuesday afternoon. You were never that good at Italian and ever since this distraction in a human form walked into your life, it got even harder. Hell, if some higher powers weren't in your favour, you probably would have been out of this school already. But to have the chance to keep looking at this man, that was a motivation for you to at least pass.

The silence all around pulled you out of your thoughts. Upon realising that everyone was staring your direction, you turned your head up. There he was, looking at you. Patiently waiting for your answer to the question he had previously asked.

After a few seconds, which felt like eternity, he gave you a smile and moved on to get the answer from someone else. You started blushing from the embarrasment. Your friend sitting next to you noticed and playfully hit you with her elbow, while raising a brow at you. She obviously knew about this little crush and always made jokes about how the two of you should just get a room already. You always rolled your eyes, knowing deep down thats what you wish for.

The next round of questions started and you saw your teacher going down the line, all of your classmates answering one by one. When you knew it would be your turn next, your heart began racing.          You were quickly counting through the questions, to see which you would have to answer, so you wouldn't embarass yourself even more.

„Signorina Y/L/N, domanda numero 6, perfavore.“

He set his hand on the table in front of you, supporting his body weight as he was leaning a little bit. Tattoos peaking from under his rolled sleeves, you had to push away the sinful thoughts once again.

You looked up at him, trying not to stumble over your words.

„Domanda numero 6? La ri-risposta corrette è b: il fiume,“ you quickly got out of yourself, while feeling the sweat dripping down your body.

„Corretta, not corrette, Y/N, otherwise, good enough,“ he switched to english now, and you earned yourself another sweet smile from him. You were glad that you finally got something right but also that the torture was almost to be over for another week or so.

After Y/F/N answered her question, he decided to finish the lesson, as an hour and half already passed.

„Alright guys, let's wrap it up. You dont get any homework, as there is going to be the test I already told you about next week, so you better study hard,“ he paused, as  everyone started getting up from their chairs already, making a lot of noise as they were packing up their belongings.

„And...,“ he raised his voice.

„...don't forget to lend the book Compiti Italiani 2, it can seriously help you.“ He finished the class by picking all of his books up, walking towards the door.  He let everyone pass through, before walking out of the class himself.

You and Y/F/N said your goodbyes and each went different ways. Yours lead to the library.

Your teacher semeed to be following the same path.

//

Upon arriving to the library door, you noticed that it seemed to be closed. You couldn't see people moving inside, not even the librarian. It seemed quite unusual that the library would be closed at this time, it was usually opened everyday until 18:00. It was barely 16:00.

You shook the handle and checked for the opening hours sign, just to be sure.

The sign was showing exactly what you thought.

It was still closed though.

You weren't happy about the situation but there was nothing you could do, so you decided to go home. As you turned away, you started rambling through your tote bag. It was always full of things and you could never find your wireless headphones. You were slowly walking, crunched to the side, still picking on random things, to find the plastic box. As you took a few more steps, you noticed a figure in front of you.

Upon turning your head up, you noticed your handsome italian professor standing there. He was playing with a set of keys, turning them at their hoop around his fingers.

„Exemplary student, I see. Running to borrow the book I mentioned straight after the class,“

He smiled, while slowly walking towards you. Your heart started pounding, but thanfully, he just passed you to get to the door.

„I didn't know you're in charge of the library, Mr. David. Where is Mrs. Andrews?“ you were geniuenly curious.

While trying to unlock the door, he turned his body halfway to face you.

„She is still in charge of the library, but I volunteered to take her place when she has to bring her daughter for a checkup at the doctor, which is every other week at this time. You know, I get credits for it and it's not that hard of a job,really.“

You almost forgot that he was just a student like you. The only difference is that he was currently working on his Doctorate degree and in order to achieve it, he had to teach some classes as well. Credits were definitely something good to have more of.

When he finally got the door unlocked, he made his way behind them. Holding them open with one hand, gesturing for you to come through with the other.

As you marched foward, you felt his eyes looking you up and down. While walking over the threshold, you heard his voice behind you.

„And outside of the class, it's Damiano for you.“

Did he really just suggest for you to call him by his first name?  

You quickly gave him a smile while speeding your walk to get to the shelves, so you can look for the books you need and get the hell out of there.

//

Soon, a few more people started coming through the door. They were sitting down to study or simply trying to find the books they want. It was taking you surprisingly long time to get to the titles you were looking for to help with your school work, but you didnt want to ask your teacher, you would rather die on the spot.

You spent a good 10 minutes going slowly over the section of letter „C,“ but didnt see any copies of the Italian book left. Thinking your classmates already took all of them, you were slowly losing hope. You slid over to the frame on the right, moving on to find a book for your sociology finals.

Scanning the shelves with your eyes, looking for the letter „S,“ the dark figure appeared next to you once again.

„Need any help?“ he asked you generously.

Oh well, you didn't want to ask him at first. But since he was already standing there, you decided to give it a shot.

„Maybe.“

He started walking away from you, signaling you to also leave the cubicle made out of shelves.

„Well, maybe Compiti italiani is in a different section, you're not in the language department, signorina.“

You were following him to the other side of the library, but this comment made you pause for a split second and roll your eyes. He was following you to the cubicle in the furthest corner of the room. You really just wanted to get this over with and come back the next day, when the usual librarian would be back.

Then, Damiano, as he asked you to call him, walked between the two giant shelves and you kept following him. Stopping in front of the middle one, you started scanning the section of the letter C once again.

„Thank you, I can handle from now on.“

Something didn't seem right as he didn't leave after what you just told him. In fact, he got even closer. You didn't know if you were scared, purely annoyed or even a little bit aroused. You just barely got to notice that the books on the shelves were about history, when he turned you around in one swift movement. You dropped your bag on the ground in a response, hoping your glass water bottle didn't shatter.

He pinned you against one of the book cases, roughly holding your hands above your head.

„And maybe, I lied about the book being here,“ he smiled at you while intertwining his hands with yours.  He started placing a few kisses on your neck, leaving you in complete state of shock.

„What is going on?“ you were trying to get an answer while holding in a moan.

„Shhhh, we're in a library, remember?“ he commented between the kisses. „a bad student like you needs to be put in her place.“

You were fighting the urge that was growing inside of you and weakly tried to push him off. He looked at you, worried, waiting for explanation.

„So you do this with all of the students who get bad marks in your classes?“

„No, just the ones who eyefuck me basically every lesson. C'mon, michetta, you are so desperate for me, I can see it.“

You were practically melting at his words. As pinky blush started appearing on your face, you were trembling. Of course, you wanted him, you would give up anything to have this man fuck you. But in this situation, you were a bit confused.

As the adrenaline kicked in, you reached out your shaking hands and pulled him back to you by his arms. He had this suggestive smile on his face and you knew very well that he had unspeakable intentions. You reached your neck up and got your mouth close to his ear.

„Well then, fuck some of the italian into me, Damiano.“

„Volentieri“ he winked at you and finally pressed his mouth against yours. You kissed back as one of your hands made its way out of his grip. It trailed into the back of his head, carefully caressing his hair. You finally had the chance to fully give in and pushed your tongue even further into his mouth.

Damiano started leaving little trail of kisses from your mouth, traveling down your cheeks and chin. Finding his way to your neck again, he was bitting on little bits of your skin, which made a moan escape your mouth involuntarily. He quickly put a hand over your mouth, so students in the front wouldnt hear you.

He hiked one of your leg sup to his torso, which made you automatically wrap it around him. Sliding his hand up your thigh, he found his way towards your underwear. He brushed his fingertips right between the outline of your labia, feeling the increasing wetness in your panties. You felt a little laugh against your neck.

„Do you leave my class this wet every week? Or is it just the thought of me fucking you in a place we shouldn't that has gotten you so excited?“ he looked deep into your eyes while still caressing you through the soaking fabric. Not giving you time to respond, he leaned in to slip his tongue into your mouth once again. He let go of your leg and his hand trailed up to the hem of your panties, pulling them down. He bent over, taking them off completely and putting them in the pocket of his blazer afterwards.

„We'll see if you're good enough of a girl to get them back after this,“ he said with a hint of arrogance in his tone.

This got you so worked up, making you want to show how well you can behave for him. You grabbed the man by his shoulder, turning him around, so he's the one leaning against the book casing. Almost smashing him against it, he let out a silent suggestive grin. It seemed like he could read your mind, knowing about your plans. You dropped to your knees in front of him, trying not to lose any eye contact. Reaching hands to his belt, you tried to unbuckle it fast so you could get what you wanted. Unfortunately, the belt had no intention of coming undone. Upon seeing you struggle, Damiano finally put you out of your misery by helping you.

Once the brown belt around his pants and his zipper were open, you pulled them down to his ankles. This action left you with his intense boner showing right through his boxers in front of your face. It has taken you back to the many nights you imagined getting this view. Kneeling in front of the man built finer than any renaissance building in Rome. Ready to take him all in, it really felt like you're dreaming.

His boxers finally joined the pants down at his feet and you were left with a view that you never had before. He wasn't the biggest in the world, but still way bigger youve ever seen in your life. For a second, you were worried if you would even be able to fit him all in your mouth.

But what better way to find out than give it a try, right?

The question followed your worries and you dived straight in. You gave him a last good look up, seeing him waiting in anticipation. Grabbing his lenght with your right hand, you immediately realised you needed some kind of lubrication. You spat right on his tip and smeared it all over, which quickly turned into giving him slow strokes. This has already earned you an expression  from him, being interested in what youll do next. You started picking up the pace, trying hard not to make the sloppy sound. Your hand was sliding up and down, getting faster and you were joyfully looking at his face in pure bliss. You decided to give him a little bit more of a show and quickly switched the hand for your mouth.

„Cazzo.“

Going at the same tempo as before finally got a moan out of him that he was struggling to hold in for so long. Hearing him speak in italian had some kind of effect on you and you started to feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter. You were speeding up, jerking your lips around his cock as fast as you could. Damiano was definitely enjoying it, fighting himself not to be any louder. You wanted to finally have him inside of you, so you took a next step.

Stopping this activity, you reached for your bag that you previously dropped onto the ground. After ramaging through all of your belongings, you found the condom you have thrown in a few months ago „just in case.“

„Always prepared to get fucked but rarely for an italian exam, I see,“ he smiled at you.

„You know, I'm naturally talented at the first option. The second one? Not so much.“

You took the condom out of it's wrapper and carefully rolled it out on his cock. When you got up from the ground, you immediately found yourself pressed against the wall once again. Damiano wasted no time, passionately kissing you. This time, he wrapped the leg around his core himself.

„Let's see if youre right about that, bella.“

He roughly pushed himself into you, which made some of the shelves shake. There was no adjusting period, he was pounding you at the speed of light. This tempo made you light headed, you were rolling your eyes back. There was clearly sweating rolling down his face, which made you aroused even more. You still couldnt believe this was happening but tried to be present in the time and place. You were whinning, practically melting into his body as he was fucking you. He reached his hand to shut your mouth once again.

„How I wish you could scream my name right now, begging me to fuck you harder. Unfortunately, bad girls like you have to be quiet because they can't learn their fucking lesson.“

In one swift movement, he turned you around, forcing you to bend over. With one of his hands still on your mouth and the other hiking your skirt up, he entered you from behind. You let out a muffled moan against his palm, as you felt him deep inside of you. Your walls clenching around his cock made him seem short of breath. He was pounding you while being completely pressed against you. You were slowly losing yourself to him.

He moved the hand from your back to your cunt. Without warning, he started rubbing your clit fast, matching the speed of his thrusts. You were being tipped over the edge and it seemed like he knew that you were getting close.

„Sborra per me, puttana,“ he growled at you in italian. Although you didn't understand, it was the last push you needed. This killer combination made you come undone with another muffled cry.

You felt a few more thrusts until he came himself, his whole body shaking into you.

When you were both done, you stayed in your place for a minute, just catching your breath and processing whatever just happened. You were absolutely in bliss after this scenario, which seemed like cropped out of your pornsite search history. It has definitely taught you a lesson or two, but you maybe didnt want to admit it to him.

You heard his pants buckled behind you, so you finally decided to face him. He still looked great, if not better, with messy hair and his shirt all creased up.

„Well, you definetely got a part of italian fucked into you. Was that enough for you to start studying for my lessons or do you want to fail, so you can keep on salivating in my classes?“

„I admit, it made me rethink my past decisions, but also if I wasn't bad at learning foreign languages, I wouldn't have a gorgeous  italian man fucking me in the back of a library, so I guess it was fine after all.“

You grinned at him, sticking your tongue out.

He pulled you closer to him by your waist, passionately kissing you one more time.

„What if I keep fucking you, maybe in my place or yours, and we might get to some tutoring in between, hm?“ he raised an eyebrow suggestively.

„Sounds like a deal to me.“

You quickly collected yourself, grabbing your bag off the ground, straightening your skirt down. Soon you realised that you had no underwear on.

„Do I get my panties back, please?“ you looked to Damiano one more time.

He just giggled and shook his head.

„When you pass my class, at least with the D mark, you can have your underwear back.“

He immediately walked off, heading towards the front of the library. You also got out of the cubicle, burning up with embarrasment. You really didn't want anyone to think youre sleeping your way to a better grade. On the other hand, you were still so happy about what just happened that you didnt want to care about other people.

Seemingly, there were only two students left, both with headphones on. Looked like film majors editing their final projects so there was a low chance they heard anything.

You made your way to the door, as Damiano was already behind the librarians desk. As you were about to pass through, he jogged around the table to quickly get to you.

„Not even saying goodbye to your teacher? That is rude,Y/N“ he frowned  his face at you. You playfully hit him into his arm.

  „Well, Mr. David, you didn't seem to care about 'rude' when you were fucking one of your students in the school building, but let's talk about that later, shall we?“

He bit his tongue and smiled at you. After that, he handed you a piece of paper with his number and adress on it. It also said „TUTORING“ on top, which made you smile as well.

You nodded your head and waved to him, knowing you couldn't kiss him goodbye, as there were already two sets of eyes on you. You just dissapeared through the door frame and went your own way.

Replaying of the scene that just occured in the library didn't stop in your head until you fell asleep, thinking about the right time to call him about your first tutoring session.

[abiiors]

Can i request more Damiano David angst please? 😅🥺

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

Consolation Prize // D.D.

Damiano David x Reader

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

Word Count: 1k

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

Yet you can’t stop going back to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Of course,’ you smile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Tomorrow works for me.’

[ykaaaras]

Masterlist

Pairing: DAMIANO DAVID x 2 fictional females insert

Story summary: Damiano exorcises a demon from Medusa, helps her to recover, and chooses to protect her from what she sees. However, he can’t protect her from one thing…

Story content and warnings: angst, priest Damiano David, dom Damiano David, original characters, hurt/comfort, supernatural, mystery, mention of religion, fluff, smut, daddy kink (this is in small letters because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to write it lol sorry, I hope I’ll manage), mention of suicide, murder, death and possession, demon character, polyamory relationship

Word count: 15.2k (so far)

A/N: This story doesn’t intend to disrespect any beliefs or to preach, it’s all pure fiction for you to enjoy. Be nice.

Chapters:

Chapter 1 // Back To The End

Chapter 2 // Bury With Smile

[baddestbittyontheblock]

måneskin fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

måneskin x reader: blurbs+headcannons+fics

୨୧ 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

୨୧ 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

୨୧ a headcanon with må with you being a successful model

-they're wearing earbuds, blasting music into their ears when they remember the they left their phone charger in the bathroom. they don't know you're showering and can't hear you over the music...

୨୧ headcanons with må x fashiondesigner!reader

୨୧ a valentine’s surprise | SMUT, orgy, oral sex, anal play, double penetration, food play, spit play, alcohol  

-You’ve been feeling a little left out in your relationship so your four partners show their love to you with a surprise for Valentine’s Day. 

୨୧ Gettin’ Frisky With The Måneskin Members  | explicit content, gender neutral reader, switch!damiano, hard domme!victoria, vanilla!thomas, sub!ethan, freaky stuff, toys and s/m, oral (both ways), degradation, spit, pain play, brat taming, bondage, sinning cuz rock’n’roll never dies

୨୧ our favourite band with an S/O with bad menstrual periods

| talk abt periods, so dyphoria warning (we'll get back on the totally GN shit tmrw, just filling requests rn), lil bit of swearing and NSFW on Ethan

୨୧ how the members of Måneskin confess their feelings for you måneskin x gn!reader

victoria de angelis

·。🍓 my sweet valentine vic de angelis x fem! reader | Fluff

-Victoria's first Valentine's day celebrating with you is a bit chaotic but turns out better than expected.

·。🍓 date night vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, fingering, oral (female receiving) and bdsm dynamics

-you and vic go on a date and it ends with fun at the hotel

·。🍓 hush, hush, cucciola. vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you’re were asked to come over and help to calm Vic down after another disagreement during creating new song, and you find just the way to make her happy and peaceful again

·。🍓 pillow talk vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-your night trip to the kitchen gets interrupted by a strange noise, the results of your investigation are more pleasant then you could expect.

·。🍓 long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

·。🍓 cold breeze, hot cheeks vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff 

-a rather cold October makes your blood boil as you and Vic attend Ethan's birthday party

·。🍓 i think I wanna hold you, but I'm not sure i'm allowed

vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst with tiny hint of smut

·。🍓 I'll show the  lovin' that you'll never get from a man. vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff, smut

-your friends finally meet your boyfriend, and even though nothing goes according to the plan, your night ends up being better than you could hope for, thanks to Vic

·。🍓 sweat and good grips vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 the one with victoria’s boobs. victoria x gn!reader | fluff

-Victoria needs help taping her boobs for an upcoming performance. You get more than you bargained for.

·。🍓 the one where victoria wants to watch victoria x fem!reader x ethan | smut

·。🍓 “OPEN YOUR MOUTH.” victoria x gn!reader | soft smut

-along the lines of The one where victoria is patient.

·。🍓 “YEAH, WELL, IF YOU WEREN’T SO DRUNK MAYBE I WOULD.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “I KNOW YOU CAN BE LOUDER THAN THAT.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “GIVE ME ATTENTION.” vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams vic de angelis xfem!reader | fluff, smut

-You're an up-and-coming actress, and Vic's best friend since high school. You have been friends and in love with each other for as long as you can remember. So when you have the chance to be together, it's magical.

·。🍓 baby said vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you've been on a few dates with Victoria and you think things are going really well. You just wish you had known where the night was going beforehand- maybe you would have picked a table with longer tablecloths.

·。🍓 latenight devil vic de angelis x fem! reader

-victoria covers for you after you sneak backstage ahead of a Måneskin gig & invites you into her dressing room for an unusual encounter

·。🍓 forgive me father vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, basically porn

·。🍓 the ocean's daughter swearing, alcohol consumption, drowning as a metaphor, smut

-while on holiday in italy, an encounter derails your life enough to make you pack up on a whim and move to the very city in which you first saw her — the ocean's daughter.

·。🍓 vic blurb

-doing domestic stuff with Victoria

·。🍓 a threesome with victoria and damiano! damiano x fem!reader x vic | smut

-reader is victoria’s partner and starts to develop a certain ‘obsession’ for dami, until vic decides to fix it.

·。🍓 vic de angelis fic victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-y/n is the other female member of the band, who has had feelings for vic for a while now, but was too nervous to say anything. one night after a concert in new york changes that after the bassist overhears a conversation between damiano and y/n.

·。🍓 thorns victoria de angelis x fem!reader | Mentions of smoking. Mentions of panic. Swearing.

-victoria meets her ex-girlfriend (Ava). The unplanned “date” upsets her and she decides to drink and smoke to cope. When she wakes up in the morning her best friend Y/N (who she also happens to have a crush on) is there to try and reason with her. 

·。🍓 lucid victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-It started with a spilled drink and ended with a clumsy kiss on the dance floor. A night out with friends takes an unexpected turn when you bump into the one person that's been on your mind for the better part of a year- the same stranger who stole both your chapstick and your heart.

·。🍓 nightmares victoria de angelis x fem!reader | A description of a nightmare. Other than that all is fluff and comfort.

-When Y/N has a terrifying nightmare and wakes up screaming, Victoria is there to comfort her.

·。🍓 kisses and cake vic de angelis x reader | very fluffy, a little spicy

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-being in a punk band and having vic feature in a show (you know like thomas recently did with starcrawler) and her doing her scissoring thing on top of me and then when she extends and after extending a hand to help me up and pulling me into a very gay gay gay kiss smearing her lipstick on my lipstick and leaving a big lipstick stain on my cheek as well

·。🍓 birthday wish victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-little birthday blurb

·。🍓 church crush vic de angelis x reader | kinky as kink abba; innocent/corruption kink, and idk, sacrilege?

-good girl!reader having a massive obsession on a not-so-good girl from her church.

·。🍓 proficiency test victoria de angelis x gn!reader | a bit of swearing + one (1) explicit and one (1) implicit mention of sex + i'm very much projecting (who doesn't) + shitty german

-vic decides to help you study. chaos ensues.

·。🍓 coming home victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-vic has had a long day but coming home to you lifts the uneasiness from her shoulders and she vocalizes just how lucky she feels that you are in her life.

·。🍓 because of you idiot! victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angst(I guess), romantic fluff

-Victoria suddenly comes distance, and you try to find out why.

·。🍓 fluffy blurb vic de angelis x reader

-(it's something about getting matching tattoos with vic)

·。🍓 fuffly/smut with victoria victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-fluffy morning/half smut with victoria. nipples playing.

·。🍓 your camera roll while dating vic vic de angelis x reader | fluff, smut

·。🍓 knowing your worth vic x fem/gn! reader | hurt, comfort

-Vic is there for you after a conflict with your parents.

·。🍓 the first happiest birthday vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 crawling back to you vic de angelis x reader

-Vic once again finds her way back to you.

·。🍓 one of a kind vic de angelis x reader | fluff, mentions of sex

-Vic finds out just how rich the feeling of love can be.

·。🍓 “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend that it’s you!” vic de angelis x reader | fluff, angst

·。🍓 pt 2 hospital vic fic. vic de angelis x reader

·。🍓 “everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 the one where victoria is patient. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-you've been with Victoria for half a year. Maybe it's about time you pushed your fears away.

·。🍓 “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe I would.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Give me attention.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 “We’re in public, you know.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 "Take off your clothes, but leave the heels on." vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto: Part 1. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics, mention of someone called ‘A’ - Damiano’s girlfriend

-unbeknownst to you both, paparazzi photograph you and Victoria while on your way back from a date night. When you find out in the morning, the two of you have very different ideas of how to handle the situation.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto - Part 2. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics.

·。🍓 k is for kisses vic de angelis x reader

-You and your girlfriend, Victoria, both like to tease each other. Kisses ensue.

·。🍓 peculiar and beautiful victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angsty but also fluffy

-reader finds themself in a emotional rut. A few comments online, the constant youtube recommendations on how to be “perfect” have been making them feel some type of way, hiding away from the one person that can help them; Victoria

·。🍓 amalfi nights victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut, pretty vanilla, softdom!vic, servicetop!vic, praise, kind of fluffy smut

-reader and victoria are for vacation in Amalfi. After a candle-lit dinner at the restaurant, after a long day of swimming and sunbathing, victoria just wants to show you her love.

·。🍓 afterglow victoria de angelis x gn!reader | mentions of sex

-reader meets victoria while traveling with friends. The two create a lovely summer fling and reader can not help but bask in the afterglow of victorias influence hoping to encounter her again.

·。🍓 homesick vic de angelis x reader | tw sickness, vomitting

-vic and the reader being on a long vacation together. One night the reader wakes up homesick and ends up being sick in the toilet, trying to be as quiet as they can not to worry vic too much. To no use, of course, as vic wakes up alarmed by the sounds of someone being ill in the bathroom and then goes to comfort the sick, guilty, crying reader?

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

damiano david

✧*: i want to dance on your body damiano david x fem!reader | smut 

-you and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.

✧*: i'm gonna fly straight to you damiano david x fem!reader | fluff

-you and Damiano are cuddled up in bed, brainstorming epic future adventures together.

✧*: i wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa. damiano david x fem!reader | smut

-damiano takes you to see his new yacht

✧*: long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

✧*: overthinking damiano david x fem!reader | swearing, alcohol, smoking, smut related things in general

-Your relationship with Damiano is going through a crisis and some jealousy. All becomes clear after a filed party and a steamy night. There is a bit sad, angsty beginning, smut in the middle and a bit of fluff in the end. So, we have the whole package.

✧*: welcome home damiano david x fem!reader | surprisingly fluffy but also smut

-after a long week all you need is a loving touch of your currently absent boyfriend. Luckily in the morning there is a very handsome surprise waiting for you, and this allows you to start your day in best way you could possibly imagine

✧*: 300,000 hearts damiano david x fem!girlfriend!reader

-where damiano sings a song about you he wrote in highschool, to a full arena

ethan torchio

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ blush ethan torchio x reader | pure fluff

-a blurb of Ethan meeting his new makeup artist who's really kind and bubbly and he instantly gets a crush on them?

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ a night in paris ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut+swearing

-you went on a tour with the band and Ethan enjoyed Paris the most. Having your boyfriend all happy and excited turned out to be better then you expected.

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ "The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind." ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut

-If acting unwise get's you places, maybe you're just pushing it to be on your knees.

thomas raggi

❤︎ ❥ "We passed 'just friends' about 20 fucks ago." thomas raggi x reader | angst, fluff, smut

❤︎ ❥ sanremo. thomas raggi x gn!reader | swearing, slightly sugggestive

-ever the supportive boyfriend, thomas indulges you in a sanremo 2023 watch party.

[writersblockiskillingme]

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

I’m in my delusional era

Only Angel | Damiano David

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

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

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

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

I saw this angel

I really saw an angel

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see

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

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

And there's nothing I can do about it

Damiano could still remember the first time he met her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door

I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

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

But I think that's what I like about it

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One night stands.

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

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

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

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

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

And there's nothing we can do about it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And why is that, angel."

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

That's all he needed.

Told it to her brother and she told it to me

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

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

And there's nothing she can do about it

Hey, hey

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

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

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

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

"Arch your back for me, angel."

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

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

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

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

"Ah- I-"

"Do they!?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good girl."

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

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

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

My-my-my only angel

->

->

->

TAGLIST

@opal-rugger

[malina-33]

Femme Like You - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You are the new tour manager for Arctic Monkeys during The Car era. You are practically the only girl in the team, also younger than the rest (27 y.o.), so your skills are immediately called into question. In particular, by the frontman who is not used to being led by a woman.

Word count: 10,2k

Warnings: swearing, emotional swing (is it even a warning?), kind of voyeurism (slight), age gap

A/N: Dear friends, hi!! I know, I know that I've promised you to update the fic every 3 weeks, and the disappeared for 1.5 months, but I spontaneously found a job, so there was very little time. But the chapter is much longer and with some interesting collaborations ;) I'll hope you enjoy them!

And write down what do you think if I make a description of not only the whole work, but also the chapter before each new part? Or is it better to keep the intrigue till the end?

In any case, I look forward to your feedback, it's soooo much important for me. I won't promise to return before the end of September, but I'll do my best not to delay. I already have an interesting plot for the next chapters, you should like it💔

*guys, English isn't my first language so if I have (and I know I have lol) any grammar/logic mistakes don't hesitate to tell me :)

The first week after meeting with the group flew by unnoticed. You dealt with the documentation, understanding how necessary it is, no matter how much you hated it, phoned the representatives of Ashton Gate stadium, made sure that everything was okay and confirmed the presence of the group and even tried to check the weather since the gig would be held outside. However, it turned out to be a little more difficult with the transport company. Apparently, James forgot to warn them about the temporary removal of his duties, so you had to spend time clarifying the situation and explaining who you are. It seemed that your hands-on approach was excessive, because you were trying to control everything in one time, but only due to the feeling of extra responsibility.

Steven, as promised, sent the contacts of the guys and important people from the technical crew, so now your phone had the names of Jamie Cook, Nick O'Malley, Matthew Helders and Alex "dickhead" Turner among others. 19 years old you would definitely envy yourself. So when you got a message while cooking pasta for dinner on Saturday night, you already knew it was from the drummer and not from an anonymous online scammer.

Matthew Helders: "good evening, Miss Y/S! I hope you aren't busy. We'll wait you on the soundcheck on Monday at 2 pm in Domino, need your advice :)"

You almost overcooked Carbonara bacon rereading the message. "Do they really need my advice?" you whispered, furrowing your brows "About what?". But the only answer was:

You: "Sure! Do I need to take some 12% cider?"

Matthew Helders: "you better not show up without a package lol"

Immediately followed by:

Matthew Helders: "just kidding! We are waiting only for you, but in the company of cider it will be even better)"

You chuckled, surprised at how quickly Matt went from formal Miss at the beginning of the conversation to smiles and lols at the end. To tell the truth, you still didn't fully understand how to behave with them. On the one hand, you are their manager and have a certain influence, as well as subordination. Steven and James don't have it, although they are "higher" in position, but they've been friends for half of a life, and you are a completely new person. On the other hand, in this area there is no place for strict formalities, especially since the guys don't look like those who would comply with them. After all they were big kids no matter how mature and pretentious they could look on stage, and you clearly felt it. Maybe your company will help them to relax even more, so there won't be any awkwardness and you will naturally find an edge where all of you will feel comfortable and which no one will cross.

With those thoughts, Carbonara and Rosé you spent your Saturday night watching your favorite series "La Piovra". You got used to such calm and quiet evenings. The era of parties until the morning has passed in the university years, and it’s not that you don’t go to clubs now, it’s just that the older you become the better you began to appreciate moments of silence. Not to be bored alone with yourself is the most valuable skill that you have acquired in your life. Having lived first with your parents for a long time, then getting married early at the age of 20 and having lived with your husband for 3 years, you were essentially not left alone with yourself. Having discovered over time that you feel absolutely nothing for the person whom you said "yes" to in the registry office, you were horrified and frightened to say at least. You thought that you get married once for a lifetime, but it turned out that happy endings exist only in fairy tales. That period of despondency, depression and eventual deepening into work gave its results. Major labels began to notice you, inviting you to musical projects with famous bands such as Maneskin. You worked with them for 1.5 years, leaving after their heyday at the Eurovision, realizing that you can’t give them more. That was your second decision to leave, but unlike the divorce, it didn't bring you much suffering. You understood that you and the group gave each other a lot, and although the parting was bitter, everyone understood that it was necessary. You still remained friends with the guys and periodically wrote off to meet. You planned to go to their concert, but couldn't find the time. And after your assignment to the Monkeys it became even more harder to shedule.

After the divorce you didn't have a serious relationship, instead you had a dream job, money, a car, a country house and even a corgi Grapes. You weren't afraid of the future, loved the time in seclusion and found inner peace by meditating on the production of cider, which was your unusual but very tasty hobby. Were you fully happy, though? Wouldn't you like to cross the threshold of the house and be met not by a dog's barking, but by a warm kiss on the forehead and a quiet "how was your day"? You probably wanted to, but it was hard to admit, especially considering that the fear of intimacy sat somewhere deep inside, not letting you forget the disappointment that you experienced when you removed the engagement ring from your finger. Although you remained friends who didn't hold evil against each other, the bitterness of your marriage was almost impossible to remove from the memories.

But for now, your head has been occupied by the sudden question of where to put Grapes for the duration of the tour...

Monday morning was sunny and peaceful, you woke up in a surprisingly good mood, put on your make-up, put on your favorite lime flared jeans, loaded a case of apple drink from the basemеnt into the car, patted Grapes and drove off to the studio. The road took about an hour, so during this time you managed to phone your father. You haven't talked much lately due to your workload, and now was almost the only time of the day when you were relatively free. You put the speaker phone mode, listening to the slightly hoarse voice of the man, without being distracted from the road.

"Hello my dear! How are you?"

"Hi daddy, I'm fine, going to work right now"

"My busy bee, James has already told me about your progress" you could hear him chuckle, coughing a little. You could only guess what Ford said to your father, because you spoke to him only once in these 2 weeks, when you recalled him after meeting with the group. And not that your story was very colorful. Therefore, the guys or Steven contacted him, and from this point of view, you couldn't imagine what they possibly come up with towards you.

"He assured me the boys liked you"

"Oh, really?" you said on the exhale, squeezing your hands on the steering wheel tightly.

"Yes, James is pleased with you. Well done, babe!" you melted under his words. It felt like you were a little girl again who drew a family picture that was hung on the refrigerator, even though mom and dad looked like monsters.

"Thank you daddy, I'm very happy to be with them actually"

"Of course, in such a company of men. Should I be jealous? 'Cause I looked through their photos on the Internet" dad said proudly, to which you burst out laughing, stopping at a traffic light.

"Dad, c'mon, no! They're too old for me" you laughed.

"10 years are not a big deal. Anyway, your choice. Just don't forget to eat please, I know how tough you work now. Otherwise you'll get drunk on your cider. God, how did you even manage to get into this alcohol sphere..." the man groaned in prostration. You rolled your eyes, but still smiled without answering. You got used to your father's fast flow of different thoughts.

"And don't roll your eyes, little naughty one! I care about you. So if they hurt you, you know who to call, right?"

"Oi, who will offend whom first" you retorted defiantly.

"Okay okay, I won't interrupt anymore. Kiss Grapes for me. I love you"

"And I love you very much, hello mom"

"I'll pass it on, bye!"

You turned off the call, fully focusing on the road. After talking with your parents, you always felt warm in your soul, so up to the studio you didn't leave a smile when you sang songs from the radio under your breath.

You arrived exactly at 2 o'clock, as agreed with Matt, but when you saw a few more cars in the parking lot in addition to the familiar Cadillac, you realized that the guys had been here for a long time. You must have looked a little ridiculous in a business suit and heels and a wooden box under your arm, but you didn't have other choice. Holding the car key in your mouth and trying to press the button at the same time, you clumsily closed the trunk with your leg. A purse was still dangling somewhere on your shoulder, and sunglasses had slipped from head to the bridge of your nose. "Must be an amazing picture to observe" you thought tiredly "Oh, if only Matt were here".

But before you had time to think about it, you heard a soft laugh behind you. You turned around sharply, noticing the frontman smoking alone near the entrance. You spat the key into the box, finally pressing the right button, and shouted

"And how long do you look?"

"I came exactly at the most interesting moment" man smiled, taking a puff.

You heavily crossed the entire parking lot, approaching him. Turner, having finished smoking a cigarette and throwing it into a nearby trash can, silently took the box from your hands.

"Hi, Y/N" he greeted you wheezing nicotine in the lungs.

"Hi," you frowened a little, but slowly added "Alex".

Calling him by his first name was... Unusual. A week ago the appeal to him was exclusively Mr. Turner, but today he was the first to break this line. "Well, apparently, we will both have problems with the boundaries of what is acceptable" bitterly flashed through your thoughts.

You both entered the building - Alex with a box in front, you behind holding the door. The way was silent. You wanted to say something to break this crystal quietness of his, but by the time you mustered up the courage, you stopped at the door 13A. The vocalist pushed it with his left shoulder, squeezing the alcohol forward, and you trotted along.

As soon as you and Alex entered the sound studio, you were immediately greeted with whistling and loud hooting.

"Look who's here, Miss Y/N"

"Hi, guys! I'm here with gifts as promised" you smiled broadly.

Alex at this time put the box on the table and immediately took one bottle for himself.

You noticed that there were Tyler and Tom in the studio as well, so you mentally praised yourself for taking bottles with a margin. You didn't know them personally yet, but was willing to change it. Turner introduced you to the men, and surprisingly you didn't hear his usual sneer in the voice.

"So, welcome Y/N Y/S, she's our manager for the summer before America starts and James gets back"

"Happy to finally meet you!" you were the first to extend your hand to Tyler, which he shook gently, smiling affably, and then to Tom. But he intercepted your hand, kissing your knuckles and making you laugh.

"Mutually, Miss" Rowley said enchanted.

"And she makes her own awesome cider, get one" Matt ordered businesslike, raising his voice from behind the drum kit.

"Yeah, there is enough for everyone, don't hesitate to take"

Evidently you arrived during the break, and before that they had already rehearsed a bit. You were wondering what kind of advice they need from you. The thought that they just needed cider you pushed back with a grin. But Alex, as if reading your thoughts, leisurely started speaking leaning on the table and holding a drink.

"Well, thanks for the cider, but that's not what we called you for. Since you're such a big fan of My Propeller, we discussed it here and decided that it's possible to put one on the set list for a couple of times. So listen to how it sounds, maybe have some ideas or whatevah" he was trying to sound casual, not attaching importance to his words for you.

"I'll do my best!" you almost jumped from such news.

Jamie chuckled audibly, running his fingers over the guitar. You sat down on the couch as Matt tapped the rhythm with his sticks and the melody began.

Seductive. The first association that came to your mind when you heard the intro of this song. It was your favorite from Humbug for sure and one of the band's all time favorites. Alex never told in any interview what was the secret of the lyrics, and probably that was the reason it attracted you even more. The guys played it selflessly, as if there hadn't been those decades that they hadn't performed it. You liked how they gave themselves to the process, even if it was just a rehearsal. They were in simple t-shirts and Matt was proudly wearing pineapple shorts, but you could swear, a real concert was unfolding right in front of you.

When Alex started singing you tried to hide the goosebumps as best as you could, but it hardly worked out well. His voice flowed melodically, not betraying a hint of wheezing or breaking, which could arise due to the age. He closed his eyes, tightly gripping the microphone stand, and moved his feet to the beat, slightly ridiculous, but at the same time gracefully. Throughout the song, you didn’t take your eyes off the group for a minute, sometimes singing along to the words, pulling the last syllable of

 Coax me out my law

And have a spin of my propeller

When the song ended, you clapped and Nick even made a mock bow.

“I don’t know how objective my assessment will be, because apart from the words of delight I have nothing to add” you honestly admitted. It seemed to you that you heard Alex's quiet "As I said", but Matt was quick to interrupt him asking you "Actually, we have already decided to play it in Bristol, but the question is where to chip in. We'll definitely not start with this one, and the outro is already completed, so..."

You thought a little, trying to understand what motives My Propeller reminds you of, and then the penny dropped.

"Pretty Visitors!" you exclaimed louder than you should have because your words echoed through the silent studio.

"Smooth interlude from Pretty Visitors, yeah, not bad actually" Alex quickly developed your idea, turning to Matt, as if asking "Do you mind?", but the drummer only closed his eyes approvingly. It seemed that they didn't need any words at all, they could understand each other with guitar riffs and drum brakes. Their connection, it was amazing, honed to automatism for past 20 years. They were like scientists in a chemistry lab mixing potions together in an attempt to make a new elixir. It was magic to come true and watching this process was so intimate that you involuntarily felt the heat on your cheeks, as if you were engaged in voyeurism.

***

The hours in the studio flew by. Fortunately for you, the guys decided to surprise fans with the return of Mardy Bum which will be the opener. The exact setlist for Bristol was confirmed at the end of the rehearsal, bringing back Teddy Picker and The View From The Afternoon as well. So looking at the perfect 21 songs, you could only imagine what they would save for London. Originally you were going to visit their concert in your hometown, you bought tickets as soon as sales were announced, but after James's call you easily gave the ticket to a friend, saying that you had won a jackpot.

Tom and Tyler have already left and the five of you are left. You were sitting on a soft chair, moved from the corner of the room, and the guys opposite on the sofas. The boys had laid down their guitars and you were leding a peaceful conversation about life, since the studio rental time ended only in an hour. You told them about your career in the industry, Maneskin and the part time projects you've been working on lately, omitting the details of your divorce because you thought it was too early for them to immerse themselves in such personal aspects of your life.

"By the way, Vic is your big fan and Alex in particular" you giggled, remembering the way drunk Maneskin bassist told you that she would like to sleep with Turner. Those were the carefree times of your youth you warmly remembered.

"Really?" Matt raised his eyebrows as he sipped his seemingly endless bottle of cider "You still have their contacts, right?"

"Yeah, sure, we even text each other occasionally" you quipped.

"And you didn't say you were working with us?" Heldres was surprised.

"Actually, somehow it didn't seem possible" you lowered your gaze, "I mean what would it look like? "Hey guys, look who's here, I now manage the Monkeys btw?" - so what?"

You could tell by the Cheshire smile on Matt's bristly face that this was exactly how he thought.

"Oh no, Matthew, don't you-"

"Oh yes, darling, dial FaceTime, you'll show them our doll" the man neighed, turning to Alex, who had been sitting quietly on the couch until this moment, and fidgeted in place after the suggestion.

"For God's sake, Matt, what a kindergarten behavior" the vocalist howled irritably, rolling his eyes, "I don't even remember their names".

The idea of making fun of Turner a little for the morning case with the box and taking revenge seemed to you unexpectedly delightful. Your hand automatically sank into your pants pocket, deftly pulling it out into the light and finding the right WhatsApp chat.

"Don't worry, you just have to say hi to Vic, I'm sure you'll be fine" you sang sweetly, glancing slyly at Matt, who chuckled approvingly, glad that you supported his idea.

Alex only cursed at this and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it. Either from nerves, or putting his hair in order before the call.

You moved from your seat to the couch between Alex and Matt, gesturing for Nick and Jamie to join. You put your hand in front of you so only your face was visible in the camera frame, waiting for one of the guys to take the call. It might have been a little ill-advised to call like this without warning on a workday evening, but anyway it was already too late, as the beeps trailed in a string of sounds. You hoped that they didn't have a concert today, in any other case, one of them would definitely pick up the phone from you. And by a happy coincidence, it was Vic who ended up on your screen.

"What the hell, Miss Boogie, are you really occasionally calling after all this time of silence?" despite Victoria de Angelis's accusatory words, she sounded playful. She was a little disheveled and with a bright blush on her face. People were walking randomly with the string interruptions in the background. Apparently, the guys were at the soundcheck at one of the venues, and Vic recently finished playing.

Four pairs of eyes openly stared at you with undisguised interest after hearing the nickname, demanding an answer, but you just mouthed "later".

"Awww, sweetheart, and I'm happy to hear you again too!" you said with an ironic smile.

 "I have a lot of news for you, and I will definitely call you in private soon"

"Are you not alone? Who's with you?" the girl even moved closer to the camera in an attempt to see something.

"Well, I have a little surprise for you. Actually four surprises, but one of them you'll find really special" you said conspiratorially, looking around at the guys who were still out of the picture. Alex sat to your right, trying to portray the most distant look, as if everything that was happening was nothing more than baby talk for him.

"Darling, if you have a group orgy without me, then I will be offended and drop the call" the bassist said threateningly, wiping her forehead with a towel that was hung on her shoulder.

You just burst out laughing "Ok ok, I'm not languishing you anymore. I hope you're ready. Boys, say hi to Vics" and you finally moved the camera further so that Matt, Nick and Jamie, who were sitting to your left, got into the camera frame, Alex's appearance you saved for a dessert.

The musician's reaction exceeded all your expectations. At first she narrowed her eyes, bringing the phone even closer to face, and then she widened them with a loud squeal, jumping up from her seat.

"What the hell, Y/N! What the actual fuck, you're a shitty mutherfucker!!!" she covered her mouth with her hand, chaotically moving the phone in different directions. Apparently, other members of the group came running to her scream, as you heard the voice of Damiano asking what happened.

"What happened?" she repeated "The fucking Arctic Monkeys are sitting next to Y/N!" answering a question off-camera and stabilizing the phone. Now you could clearly see the vocalist leaning over her shoulder, Thomas to the side and Ethan slightly behind.

Finally, the men next to you decided to introduce themselves "Hey, guys, what's new?" Matt said smiling to the camera, Jamie and Nick just waved their hands in a friendly manner.

"Oh my God, what's going on" Vic, still dumbfounded, spoke with a face of complete amazement. Damiano, who quickly figured out the whole situation and realized that Vic was unlikely to be able to communicate normally now, carefully took the phone from her hands.

"Hi, Y/N, long time no see! Hi, boys, how fresh you are" the frontman winked. The words "for your age" were suggested mutely, but David left them behind the scenes. The men next to you just laughed quietly at this remark and saluted the Italian boy.

"Vic, that's not all yet, look who's next to me" wanting to finally finish off your friend, you moved the camera to the side, revealing Alex's presence, who was already sitting with a polite smile on his face, leaning on the sofa armrest.

"Hi, love" Turner murmured hoarsely, turning on his usual charisma. You were surprised how quickly he went from "fuck off everyone" to his stage persona. Indeed, a skill acquired over the years.

De Angelis, after looking at the camera for just a second, squealed even harder than the first time, which you even grimaced a little, because in a quiet studio it sounded deafening.

The camera was still held by Damiano, but the girl in the frame could be seen doubled over, holding back cries of happiness. Her guys just laughed out loud at this, knowing full well what a strong fan of Alex she was.

"Y/N, I'm going to fucking kill you, I'll strap your ass so you can't sit still for another week, what are you doing to me?" Vic didn't let go of expressions, which made the men next to you shamelessly laugh, even Turner smiled predatoryly.

"Holy shit, you're real" the girl muttered in one breath.

Her adoration entertained Alex. Celebrities fangirling celebrities wasn't an unknown story for Alex, so the way Vic behaved didn't annoy him, but brought a feeling of sincere pleasure from what was happening.

"It would be strange if I wasn't, mhm?" the man grunted, changing the position - now he rested elbows on his knees, bringing the face closer to your phone. You could smell his light apple scent from the cider you both drank and the cigarette halo that soaked into all of the frontman's clothes.

Damiano finally decided to take control over the situation by turning the camera completely on himself.

"So, Y/N, if you wanted to surprise Vic, then you succeeded 100%! But we are now at soundcheck, and we don't have much time, and she" nodding towards the bassist "still needs to be brought to her senses. We were extremely happy to hear from you, babe. Call us when you are free and tell us everything in detail. Miss you very much!"

"Guys, me too! Love ya, see you at Glasto!"

"Wait! Take a screenshot!" Vic's desperate exclamation came from Damiano's left side.

He made a focused face, looking for the right buttons, while you and the men simultaneously smiled at the camera.

"Send it to the chat" you asked, ending the call and blowing a virtual kiss. You obviously cut off Vic's "I love you" without being entirely sure it was addressed to you.

The studio immediately froze in deafening silence. You put your phone down on the coffee table, still smiling.

"That was a real buzz, they're cute" Matt said leaning back on the couch. The mood of the guys clearly improved by this little conversation. You were glad that you could somehow diversify their evening after a productive and exhausting day. Even Alex stopped keeping his always compressed lips and frowning eyebrows.

"So, Miss Boogie, right?" Jamie began slyly, reminding you of your infamous nickname.

An approving "ooooo" reverberated around the room, from which you hid behind your palms.

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget" you muttered from your hiding place.

"C'mon, we're intrigued already" Nick reached out to you through Matt, gently taking your hands away from your face.

Jamie suddenly started chanting your name, encouraging you to reveal this terrible secret, and Matt whistled as if Sheffield FC had just scored a goal.

"God, okay, just shut up please" you gave up.

The four men took more comfortable positions in anticipation of your story.

"In fact, there is nothing special in this story, it's just stupid. When Maneskin was approved for Eurovision, we went to celebrate, how can we not. It was in Milan. We got very drunk in a bar and went for a walk around the city. It was about 3 in the morning, and to entertain ourselves we played Truth or Dare. The most banal thing that could be, but nothing better came to mind. And I chose Dare, 'cause everyone else only cowardly told their secrets. So Vic asked me to dance for a minute on the street to any song that a passerby would name. Well, since at such time you are unlikely to meet any adequate passerby, we only found a beggar in the square. I don’t know how old he was, but the first song that he remembered was Boogie Wonderland" at this point you made a dramatic pause, "so yes, I had to dance to this song at night in front of other poor people who came up to us. Since then they call me Miss Boogie. Everyone is satisfied now, having fun, huh?"

You intentionally crossed your arms in insult, surreptitiously watching the laughing band.

"I bet there's a video" Matt said cheekily.

"Yes, there is, but you'll never see it!" you retorted quickly, glaring at the drummer.

"Your hot cheeks make me want to see this video even more" Nick teased tapping Matt on the shoulder.

"You know what," Alex suddenly announced, "choose any song you want. We play it, and you show the video"

You could swear your jaw was somewhere on the floor.

"Woah, did you decide to go all-in?" Matt asked, also not expecting such a generous offer "Be careful, otherwise you will have to play a Taylor Swift song"

"Ouch, why do you think I like her?"

"Who doesn't like her?"

"Your truth" you nodded approvingly.

"I meant our song. We'll perform it at the concert" Turner interrupted your dialogue, looking at you testily from under his eyelashes.

There was a slight silence, which you broke with a heavy sigh.

"Wow, okay, this is getting interesting" you muttered, leaning back on the couch like Helders had done earlier. The three men to your left looked at each other in surprise, waiting for an answer, while you've been thinking, looking at the frontman.

"Certain Romance," you easily stated, "I want this one"

"Your wish is my command, Miss Boogie," he joked without any hint of smile, standing up "you guys remember how to play it, don't you?"

The guys looked at each other dumbfounded, unable to find words for such a drastic change in the behavior of the vocalist, but after a discordant series of affirmative nods, they received a condescending smile from him.

"Well, that's great, there's still time to rehearse. I propose Sheffield!" Alex said solemnly, thrusting his hands into the pockets.

"Al, ru ok?" Matt raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"All right, man" Turner said artificially.

"This house is a circus indeed" swirled through your head. Alex's behavior was defiant. Emerging into conflict. Literally a minute ago everything was peace and quiet, and now he, like a proud peacock, was arranging a show for you at the level of a cheap soap opera.

"No, but seriously, let's even organize a lottery, since Y/N has such an influence on the setlist" Alex didn't let up.

"Come on, pipe down, you suggested it yourself" Nick intervened carefully, not wanting to stir up the smoldering coals of the conflict.

"And I think all of you are into this idea, aren't you?" Turner didn't raise his low, heavily accented baritone, but the underlying toxicity in his tone was evident, "oh, even better, let's ask our Italian friends for advice! Let's get their opinion and her video as well".

"Alexander, smoke?" you stood up decisively from the couch, grabbing your purse and phlegmatically glancing at the wooden cider box you'd probably have to leave in the studio. But you couldn’t leave the guys in such an atmosphere, so out of courtesy you promised to return again.

"Y/N, no problem, see you before Bristol! Send the screen to our group, 'cause I'm getting jealous for these Italians" Matt gave you an encouraging wink in the end, and you certainly promised to do it tonight.

"They'll kill each other"

"He doesn't stand a chance"

Jamie and Matt said at the same time as the door closed behind you.

Alex imposingly walked ahead, not hurrying anywhere. He politely said goodbye to the security guard, noting that the rental period had already come to an end. Almost bowing, he opened the door to the street for you, artificially gallantly holding it with his hand, still making a show from every gesture, which for some reason made you feel disgusted. You were counting on working with middle-aged men, accomplished musicians, but it feels like you are talking to teenagers.

Damp cold air from the river hit your red cheeks, which made you wrap yourself in a jacket more tightly. Alex took out a pack of Marlboro, offering you one, but nodding to himself, removed it, remembering your words a week ago practically at the same place.

"Well?" he said with a cigarette in his mouth, lighting the filter.

The sky was overcast with a milky haze of fog, which wasn't uncommon for these places, a weak wind was blowing, but not a single sound from the road was heard, which made you hear sparks from ignited tobacco hiss like champagne bubbles, falling on the asphalt.

Alex exhaled noisily, squinting at you with his eyes. His face was faintly lit by the flame of a cigarette, but even in such low light, it was noticeable that his gaze was completely blank. "Amazingly indifferent and deep eyes at the same time. It's impossible to tell anything from them" you thought. Or maybe he was like this only with unpleasant people to him, who you apparently were. You can’t even imagine the way these eyes changed on stage "Where are you real, Alexander?". But instead of asking this, you just threw your head back, tiredly closing your eyelids, showing with your whole appearance how absurd the situation is.

"Alex," there wasn't any visible point to call him Mr. Turner even though you were annoyed "I thought we made a deal, didn't we?"

"Really? When?" his voice sounded even more affected than in the studio, despite the fact that now the man spoke rather quietly and slowly. Or maybe even a whisper would be loud in this ringing silence.

"I just don't understand what the problem is" you continued, as if you didn't hear his words.

"I don't see it either, Miss Y/S"

You raised your eyebrows high as you asked a silent question, which made Alex smirk slightly. Taking a puff, he began to explain to you with the intonation of a parent teaching a child not to put his fingers in the socket.

"Listen, I won't hide it, you brought some chaos to our tour. This is different from your direct duties though - to solve all the problems on our way. But you're a stranger who stirred up our peace and foundation. I was initially against this idea, but James left me no choice. You are undoubtedly an educated young lady, and probably from a moral point of view, I sound like a scoundrel now-"

"You sound unprofessional, Alex. You only make me feel contempt, and I don't care about any moral side"

The frontman looked at you from under his brows, taking out a second cigarette in a row from the pack, waiting for a further reaction, but inside you was a frozen magma that didn't want to break out, muffled by self-esteem. For now.

His words contradicted his behavior. In the morning he carries your boxes and asks for a song advice, and in the evening he gives out this shit. If women's logic is ridiculed by society, then men do not have it at all.

“You know what, when James offered me this job, I was damn excited and proud that I would be working with a team like yours. I was on a cloud nine. But you, Alex, you're just a spoiled boy in the body of a 37-year-old man who hasn't overplayed his ambitions and thinks that his subtle nature is so fragile to understand that you need to hide behind the facade of an asshole so that normal people with good intentions don't crawl into your soul. You are cowardly and arrogant!"

You were breathing heavily, and the words "fool fool fool" stretched on repeat in a red line behind your eyes.

You didn't even understand how they escaped from your lips, absolutely thoughtlessly. You even instinctively wanted to raise a hand to cover your mouth, but pulled yourself back in time, deciding to play to the end. Show after show.

Alex hadn't raised a cigarette to his face during your tirade, so that the wick was almost dead in his fingers. You intensively looked at each other without stopping, and at some point it seemed to you that fear flashed in his pupils. Fear of the revealed truth. However, they were covered with a thick veil of indifference to what was happening in a second, and he finally took the last puff, throwing the butt right on the road.

"Miss Y/S, it seems that you have to go" the musician said unemotionally.

You took one last burning look at his features and, without saying a word, turned around towards your car. How ironic, a week ago you left each other in roughly the same sequence of activities - studio, cider, parking lot, but under completely different circumstances.

Slamming the door shut, you sharply revved, not bothering to warm up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot with a clang of tires. Burning tears of resentment gushed from your eyes, covering the already foggy road in front, but you didn't pay attention.

Your cooperation has just begun, and you have already swept on an emotional swing. Only in the morning you were driving in a car towards the sun and rejoicing at the warm words of your dad, and in the evening you return home, wiping the salty paths with the back of your hand from your face.

You were never embarrassed by tears, you cried out almost all of them during a divorce, but if they dripped from your eyes today, then there was a reason for that. Your parents taught you that after rain there is always a rainbow, after tears there is always peace of mind, you need to be able to live through any emotions in order to turn them into your power later.

***

You haven't seen the boys since that evening until today's early departure for Bristol. Of course, you communicated on all sorts of organizational issues during this time and there was no visible tension, especially since they didn't hear about your quarrel with Alex. You were more than sure that he would not tell his friends about that incident. This is what infringes on him, and therefore makes him weaker, which he couldn't allow.

All these days you have wondered what was the reason for such a sharp behavior, however you couldn't really delve into yourself. Why exactly you were crying - from resentment, overstrain or just an emotional outburst, it was also difficult to understand. Perhaps all together. Over the past month, from your first conversation with Ford to recent events, your life has changed 180 degrees, so it's no surprise that your psyche gave a little glitch.

You've comforted yourself with routines though — setting Grapes up with a friend until your next visit to London, inviting your parents over for dinner to tell you all the details, packing your suitcase for the tour, checking out all the technical stuff, and almost forgetting what kind of adventure you're packing for.

And now, without any idea of the nearest future, you were sitting in a black Mercedes Sprinter between Marcus and James Kerr, Ben was in the passenger seat in front, Steven was riding with the group in the bus. It was only 8 am, you were sleepy, only at the last moment you didn’t forget to remove eye patches before going out, you didn’t even put on makeup, so you sat in the wide sunglasses, even though the sun wasn't visible through the tinted windows of the car.

It seemed that everyone was relaxed, easily communicated with each other and knew exactly what each would do upon arrival at the venue. Unlike you. The schedule was pretty clear - check-in at the hotel, lunch, departure for the soundcheck and then free time for the management and the band, but very busy time for the technicians. Of all this, the most sensible thing was to drink plenty of wine at dinner and walk around the rest of the day in a relaxed state of mind, but those were only pitiful thoughts of creeping fear. Deep inside you were sure that everything would be fine, it couldn’t be otherwise, because even if you didn’t know how to do this or that task, the guys knew their duties, and they physically couldn’t play the concert badly.

"Hey, Y/N, you kinda took working with us too seriously" Marcus snapped you out of your thoughts with his mocking tone.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, turning to him.

He touched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and chuckled. It took you another couple of seconds to figure out what he meant, so he took advantage of your confusion to explain "you now going to wear glasses in the dark as well?"

The reference to Alex was read transparently, so you imperceptibly flinched and pointedly removed them, as if not wanting to be associated with him at all.

"No, no, I just didn't have time to do my make up" you honestly admitted, shrugging your shoulders ingenuously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, we-" the guy looked around at all the passengers, "we don't understand this here"

You laughed slightly, at the same time relaxing, and asked him a question that had been of interest to you for a long time.

"Why don't you have women in the team? I mean at all"

Instead of Marcus, Ben decided to answer from the front seat, apparently as the eldest among you.

“It didn’t happen on purpose, but later it became kind of unspoken rule. We are here like on the fishing, you know? We leave our wives, spend time within our male company, it’s like an alternative branch of your life, you do quality work here, you feel needed, while no one owe you nothing and you feel absolutely free in your actions, understanding thoroughly those who are around you"

"Are you aware that this is how a normal team should work, regardless of gender? It sounds somehow sexist. Am I really embarrassing you in actions?" you smiled slyly, anticipating the denouement.

"Actually, besides you, we have 3 other women in the team.." Marcus embarrassingly chipped in.

"Guys, don't bother yourself with excuses, I knew who I was messing with" you laughed, crossing your legs. Marcus looked at you dumbfounded, but said nothing, and James just chuckled softly at the window.

"Well, if you knew that, then you also should know about our tradition, right, guys?" Ben began in a conspiratorial tone, exchanging glances with the guys.

"Um, about what?" you arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"The newbie is signed up for the after-party. Tonight is your first concert, and after that we go to the bar, the drinks are off you! We're equal here" Ben imperturbably continued to scan your reaction with a fox-eye, waiting for an answer. It's not that you're greedy or unable to pay, but to buy drinks for the whole team...

And as if ahead of your question, the man added "enough management and the band".

As if it changed the essence. But you couldn't refuse, so you mumbled something affirmative, getting a roar of male hoarse laughter in response, and starting to laugh at yourself. You appreciated in people, especially males, this ability - to make a woman laugh. In a time of constant change and stress, finding someone who will make you forget about it was very important.

The rest of the road was spent in the same good mood, and these conversations did help you to forget about your anxiety due to upcoming events. Upon arrival, all the management team and the band settled in the hotel. As James promise, you've been given a private suite overlooking the most beautiful park in the city center. But due to an unknown coincidence, you lived not on the same floor with the attendants, but through the door from the group.

Matt carried your things to your room and you agreed to meet for lunch in 20 minutes.

Since you were able to miraculously did a make up even in the car, thanks to the sensitive driving, now you decided to change into more presentable clothes in which you will be at the concert.

Without changing the habit of choosing clothes carefully and for a long time, you took off your hot sweatshirt, remaining in only sweatpants and starting to go through the whole suitcase in search of those things that would match your mood. You had a couple of looks planned, but today's unexpectedly warm weather changed your plans a little, so you confidently took out a black leather skirt and a white blouse.

A piece of matter fit all your forms perfectly, so you were satisfied with the choice, spinning in front of the mirror by the bed. The black bodice harmonized perfectly with the skirt, and the crazy idea of ​​staying only in it, without putting on anything, flashed through your head like a bullet, but flew out just as quickly as soon as you heard the muffled thud of heels on the carpet outside the door and a muttered "Jamie?" at your door followed by a knock. You hysterically shouted "No!" exactly at the moment when the door opened without a click.

"Shit, Y/N!" Alex, not having time to properly enter your room, but having clearly noticed you in a compromising way, abruptly recoiled, remaining in the corridor, but not completely closing the door so that he could hear you, but not see.

"God! What a mess" you pleaded, rushing to the door. You stuck out only your head, meeting the eyes of the musician, who was discomposedly staring at you point-blank.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Why are you naked?"

You asked at the same time, shouting over each other.

"This is my room! And I'm not naked!"

"Where's Jamie? I thought he was at 312" Turner asked, a little bewildered, clearly embarrassed.

"I have no idea where Jamie is. How did you even get in?" you were still half-dressed, hiding most of your body behind a wooden door.

"I knocked, but it turned out that it was not slammed at all"

"What the fuck? Maybe Matt didn't close when he left," you muttered more to yourself. You clearly saw the question “What did Matt do here?” that arose in Alex’s head, but which he never voiced. Clearly realizing that the dialogue could not be continued in this form, you abruptly switched the subject, trying to tear his eyes from your neck.

 "I was changing for dinner anyway, so see you there" you sharply slammed the door in front of him, not wanting to go into details, and tiredly leaned your head against the wooden surface from the inside.

"Crazy" you heard quiet along with receding soft steps.

It was your only meaningful conversation with the singer, since that evening. You understood that it couldn’t go on like this for a long time, but at the moment you didn’t have any ideas how to fix the situation. So you just finally put on the look you chose, after checking that the door was locked, then decided to add a black headband, and being satisfied with your appearance, went downstairs.

After lunch, the whole team went to the stadium, where the technicians had already set up half of the equipment. The guys immediately went to the sound check, and you and Steven went to meet Ashton Gate management. It seemed like there was still plenty of time before the concert, and you thought you would have a few more chances to double-check everything, but in the turmoil that was going on behind the scenes, this turned out to be impossible.

To be honest, you were overwhelmed by what was happening. The soft music, people around, the sun rays moving towards the sunset - this whole scene that was unfolding before you as you unexpectedly stepped onto the empty stage a few minutes before the crowd was let into the stadium looked surreal and incredibly familiar, as if you had been here many times before. The noise and chaos behind you contrasted with the tranquility in front of your eyes. The empty space that was about to be filled with a crowd in just a few minutes brought both excitement and serenity. These were the moments that seemed unreal, but made life worth living.

***

The show was about to start, and you stood next to the dark staircase, where the guys from the dressing room were soon to come up. Leaning on the railing, you nervously twirled a lock of hair around your finger. You went through all the items on the checklist in your head, checking off each one mentally, but something still bothered you.

Alex.

Your unfinished conversations and evasive behavior were weighing on you. You felt guilty, knowing that as his manager, you had behaved tactlessly, driven by emotions. It ate at you from the inside. You decided that you would talk to him today, apologize and put this issue to rest once and for all.

Suddenly you noticed a flickering light from the security, which meant that the group is entering the stage, and you turned sharply, both wanting and fearing to see them. As always, looking luxurious, these four men made their way up to the platform, remaining unnoticed by the audience.

"Good luck, guys! I'm buzzing as hell honestly" you tried to sound confident, but your voice trembled on the last word.

"Miss Y/S, is it just me or are you worried about us?" Nick lightly touched your shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

"Well, it's my first time with you" realizing how ambiguous that sounded, you interrupted yourself with a laugh.

"Oh, you'll love it, babe" Matt mimicked a voice from a cheap adult movie, tossing a stick in the air. It seemed like he could find the right words in any situation, and in the future, you would highly appreciate this skill.

All this time, you were glancing at Alex out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his emotions, but he calmly adjusted the folds on his unchanging dark blue jacket and stretched his neck with turns left and right. Seeing that the guys had moved a little away from you, you looked at your watch, estimating that you had 5 minutes maximum, and whispered to yourself "now or never".

"Alex!" you called him out loudly, trying to outshout the crowd "I wanted to talk, I know it's not the most appropriate time, but-"

"Y/N, forgive me, okay," the man unexpectedly began, barely approaching you. For the first time, you saw genuine excitement in his eyes, here, in the darkness of the backstage area of a 30,000-seat stadium. For some reason, only now you clearly feel the difference in height between you two. He looked down at you patronizingly. Maybe it was because of his heels or the knot of nerves in your stomach that made you feel so small in your attempt to hide from his penetrating gaze.

"I've been a complete jerk and acted childish from the very beginning. You didn't do anything to deserve such treatment. I don't want our tension to affect the group and our work in any way, so I admit my guilt"

You stood in shock, slightly opening your mouth. You absolutely did not expect such a turn of events, so your entire improvised speech evaporated from your mind instantly. He suddenly smiled softly, raising an eyebrow, as if asking 'well, what now?' Still not believing what you heard, you nodded your head almost automatically.

"Y-yes, you were a jerk indeed. But I also didn't behave entirely correctly, my first impression wasn't great either," you sighed in frustration, recalling your memories, "I suggest we start over, huh? Hi, my name is Y/N, I'm your new tour manager, nice to meet you" and to confirm your words, you gracefully extended your hand to him.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm Alex Turner, sort of singing here," he shook your hand with an energetic movement. His palm was dry and steady, causing a pleasant warmth throughout your body, "just business then?"

"Just business indeed. And a little bit of music" you said, more relaxed, smiling with all 32 teeth, still holding onto his hand.

"Deal, Miss Y/S"

For a moment, the roar of fans faded away for you, and you only saw the outlines of his pupils in the semi-darkness and his fingers firmly holding yours. However, your fragile moment was promptly ruined by-

"Al, c'mon!" Jamie impatiently called, and your hand felt the gusts of wind instead of calloused skin of the frontman. You watched him walk away in his waddle manner, as he suddenly turned and shouted, winking "By the way, nice lace".

 It took you a couple of seconds to understand what was said, and when the meaning of his words reached you, you exclaimed in indignation "You, motherfucker!" almost stomping your foot, but your cry was lost in the wild roar of the crowd, as the guys were already on stage.

It was a miraculous sight. Four men made people go into ecstasy just with their appearance - this is the phenomenon of the Beatles, and they were proof that rock and roll is alive. As long as they are alive. Every strum on the guitar strings, every touch of the lips to the microphone, every drumstick strike, every hair flip was special in their performance, they themselves were special.

You were fascinated, to say the least. When the performance came to the last song before the encore, Body Paint, one of your favorite songs from the album, that was definitely made to be played live, you were out of words. The whole song built you up to the climax, to the outro that every time was a pure jamming and improvisation. And you literally exploded in ecstasy when Alex started walking around the stage, unable to stand still from the knocking down energy. He closed his eyes in languor, biting his lips, screaming, throwing out his arms, and you couldn't take your eyes off. You weren't dancing or jumping, you were inseparably watching his every movement, arms folded across your chest. Your mouth was agape against your will, and your eyes eagerly punched a hole in the frontman. This is a unique performance, it's something that is hard to explain without feeling it for yourself. You were made up of his music, you literally felt these waves inside your veins, your brain wasn't able to comprehend what was happening, it was like a catharsis for all of you. And you definitely didn't want to be saved.

Suddenly Alex turned his head to your side, continuing to play some divine riff outlining the Van Gogh fields on the guitar strings. His hair was tousled, shirt unbuttoned, but his jacket fitted perfectly. He rested his eyes on your figure, smiling with one corner of his lips, and you looked at each other for good seven seconds which felt like eternity. You were sure that everything was clear in your eyes, and even if he stood next to you and heard you, you wouldn't be able to utter a word.

What you definitely didn't expect when your eye contact was broken and Alex walked to another side of the stage, that tears would involuntarily flow from your eyes. "What the hell..." you wondered aloud, quickly removing the salty tracks from your cheeks. In fact, you perfectly understood why you were crying. From a sense of greatness. The greatness of music, human synergy and the power of unity. It was too much for you, too strong emotions to bear. It was excellent, it was the taste of life, thanks to which you still were here. "God, if you exist, bless this band, they are saints" although it sounded ridiculous and naive, you seriously were ready to pray for the talent of these guys, for the ability to make other people feel alive. You were in your place, you did everything right, you were cruising the victory. Today he convinced you.

As soon as the last chords of "RU Mine?" were played and the bows to the fans were taken, the men disappeared from the deafening roar behind the dark curtains of backstage. Their hair stuck to their sweat faces, and a distinct masculine smell was coming from their shirts. The guys passed by you with exhausted smiles, unable to utter a word from fatigue, and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.

You didn't know what to do right now. According to your understanding, your job didn't end with pre-concert organization, there were also post-concert tasks to be done. But you were so lost in emotions that you felt like you were drifting away from an anaphylactic shock.

Unexpectedly, Tyler came to you as he was the last one to come off the stage. He fraternally put a hand on your shoulder, tousling your hair with his heavy palm.

"Well, with the initiation into our hell, sweetheart. How're you?"

"Thrilled, and I want more!" you declared confidently, matching his quick pace that was pulling you further away from the frenzy of the crowd.

"Well, don't doubt that, it's just the beginning" he charmingly smiled, and you couldn't help but mirror his expression.

"Now we're going to celebrate, and you're coming with us" it sounded so authoritative that even if you wanted to object, you immediately closed your mouth, nodding in agreement. "Besides, seems like you need to unwind" you remembered.

You left the stadium only an hour later, apparently, it was a normal time for the guys to "recover". You'd made several jokes about one woman waiting for seven men and received offended and teasing looks in return. You got into the same Mercedes you arrived in that morning, and the driver took you to one of Bristol's typical English pubs that the guys loved so much.

You didn't understand their fondness for these quaint places where the sofa upholstery hadn't changed along with the owner. There were so many modern bars in the city, any of which the band could afford to rent entirely, but they paid tribute to traditions, obviously cherishing memories of their lively youth when they started playing their first concerts in similar places. Such a return to their roots after the thousands-capacity stadiums grounded them well. And the warm nostalgia, slipping across the Guinness glasses every time, was a corner of genuine joy for the guys, the only true luxury they possessed.

And overall, you didn't care where to spend money or on what. After all today's events, which felt like a whole month, you didn't mind anymore. In the morning, you looked at your apple orchard in the early mist of suburban London, then stood half-naked in a five-star hotel room in front of a world-renowned music star, and now, in the evening, you huddled next to him on an old leather couch under a red velvet chandelier, drinking a B-52.

Glasses, shots and colorful bottles flashed in front of your eyes like a kaleidoscope. Your head was spinning from the amount of alcohol, and your cheeks hurt from laughter.

"My dear mates, I propose a toast to Miss Y/S and her first concert with us! I don't know if she understands where she has ended up, but we'll make sure she has a great time with us, right, guys? To Y/N!" Matt solemnly proclaimed, rising from the table, and 8 hands, pouring drinks onto each other, reached towards the center of the table to clink glasses.

"Guys, thank you for this opportunity, thanks to James for his unplanned vacation, thanks to Steven and Marcus-" although the latter wasn't here, you decided to thank him as he had been providing you with all kinds of help during these weeks, "for their support and adaptation, and of course, to you Monkeys, for accepting me. I do like your crazy Monkey house" you joked, but it didn't negate the truth. Despite all the past disagreements with the lead singer, you felt that you were still doing everything right. And even if you hadn't gone on this adventure today, you would still feel grateful to fate for such an opportunity to be at the center of life.

"Glad to hear that," Jamie chuckled ironically, "as they say, welcome aboard"

And with these words, you all whistled, and Tom even shouted like a saloon girl from the Wild West. Your evening, or rather the night, continued until 3 am, fortunately there was no concert the next day, so you could at least sleep in a bit. You looked in horror at the amount you had drunk, trying to estimate how long it would take to recover the contents of your wallet. But you had consumed so much gin and tonic that the only thing that really worried you was how to walk straight for at least 2 meters to the bar to pay for it all.

"Drinks on me!" you declared with a mischievous smile to the group as you headed towards the bar counter.

"What, for everyone?" Matt playfully refined.

"Well, yeah," you didn't have the energy to realize his surprise, but he also didn't have the energy to argue with you, "that's no problem".

And thus, the following events spun in your head like a foggy whirlpool. Here you were finally breathing in the fresh air of the street, tilting your head towards the purple sky, then you were half-lying on someone's shoulder in the black minivan, and finally for no reason you were walking barefoot on a soft hotel carpet, but there were no shoes in your hands as well.

You didn't have any memories of walking into your room either. But in the moment, the feeling of soft snow-white hotel sheets flooded your body with long-awaited bliss. You instantly fell into the arms of Morpheus, only on the verge of consciousness noticing that someone took off the headband from your hair, which had been squeezing your head tightly, and silently closed the door.

You may be too drunk to remember each of your actions clearly, but you definitely wouldn't mistake the familiar scent of cigarettes in the room.

---------------------------------------------------

A/N: Oh, so much has happened in one chapter, and this is just the beginning of the tour... I decided to tell the background of Y/N for a better understanding of her actions. What do you think, maybe you want more of "Italian friends" in the work? Whose line do you want to read in more detail? Share your emotions, it is incredibly valuable to me that someone reads this work actually!

xo🤍

Taglist: @missbabyjay @rentskenobi @findmeincorneliastreet @indierockgirrl here it is!

*if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to ask me!

[taste-your-silhouette]

I wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa

Pairings: Damiano David x fem!reader  Contents: Smut Summary: Damiano takes you to see his new yacht Words: ~1205  A/N: Forgive me if you come across any errors while reading. I hope you enjoy it 💙 

Damiano tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and says, "Today, I'm taking you on a nighttime picnic."

"Nighttime picnic? Sounds cool!" you laugh.

Damiano grins, matching your excitement, and nods. "Exactly, amore mio. We'll be under the stars, and a picnic will be perfect."

"Hmmm, sounds intriguing. So, where are we heading?" you ask.

With a gentle kiss on your lips, Damiano replies, "Let's head to the marina. I've got something new and I'm excited to share."

And he takes the lead, pulling you by the hand toward the marina. It's not a long walk, so you stroll hand in hand, chatting about random stuff and playfully teasing each other along the way.

As you arrive at the marina, you both wander through its numerous alleys until Damiano stops and gazes at you with gleaming eyes.

"Okay, you've got a yacht, I can tell. Which one?" you inquire.

"Y/N"

"Hm?"

Damiano chuckles and points to a massive, stunning yacht.

"That's the name. 'Y/N in the sea with diamonds'," he announces proudly.

You burst into laughter at the yacht's name and the fact that your name is on it, but most of all, you're filled with love for Damiano for arranging this surprise. You take a step closer to him, closing any remaining distance, and plant a passionate kiss on his lips. He places both hands on your waist, intensifying the connection between you, and sending shivers down your spine. Your heart races as he pulls you closer, but as he breaks the kiss, he reveals.

"Let's hop in soon, I've been keeping this Yacht secret from you for weeks."

"Weeks ago?! I can't believe it!" you lightly push him, laughing playfully.

Damiano holds your hand, taking the opportunity to guide you into the yacht. It's magnificent; your heart races as you step inside the Yacht—it's like stepping into a movie set. The interior is sophisticated, adorned with muted tones and soft lighting, creating a welcoming atmosphere. The huge picture windows allow the sunset light to dance across the elegant hardwood floors.

"So, did you like it?" Damiano asks, his eyes filled with anticipation.

"Gattino... it's amazing!"

"Come here," he takes your hand and leads you to the deck.

The deck is utterly cozy, featuring a soft rug and cushions scattered on the floor. A basket filled with delicious treats sits nearby: fancy sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a selection of tempting sweets.

"You're a box of surprises, you know? Look at this place!" you exclaim, marveling at the setup.

You glance at Damiano, who's looking at you expectantly and happily—his beauty enhanced by the golden glow of the sunset. A gentle breeze envelops you, and everything intensifies as Damiano draws even closer, so close that your breaths intermingle. He whispers:

"I love you, Y/N. Nothing I can create in this world comes close to what you deserve."

"I already have everything I want, I have you loving me, and I love you," you express with a contented smile.

You resist the urge to jump on him and skip the whole snack part.

"I want to madly kiss you until I lose my breath."

Damiano holds your gaze and smirks. "You, my love, have no idea of the things I want to do to you right here, but come on, let's eat first." He takes your hand, and together, you walk to the soft pads on the floor of the yacht and sit down.

You find yourself comfortably nestled between his legs, leaning back against Damiano's chest. You both enjoy the delectable treats, savoring each bite while talking and laughing, basking in the joy of being together.

The sun has already set and the moon is massive, with its twin dancing in the sea, Damiano gets close to your ear and whispers:

"You look damn gorgeous in the moonlight, Y/N"

His heart races as he feels Damiano kissing your neck and caressing your face lightly, bringing his mouth to meet yours. You turn to face Damiano completely and straddle him, wrapping your legs around his waist, his arm wrapping around your waist and squeezing as the kiss intensifies.

You moan in between the kiss as you press yourself down and rock forward slowly, causing the perfect friction between the two of your sensitive parts. Your clit swells with pleasure as you feel how hard Damiano is.

He moves his hands from your waist to your hips and gives it a gentle squeeze, guiding the movements and setting a rhythm. The kiss between you is interrupted by a moan, and Damiano takes the opportunity to explore your neck even more with kisses, bites, and hickeys. You feel him getting even more aroused with the increased pace of the movements.

In a flash, he's got your ass and lying down on the comfy floor, his body on top of yours. His hands roam all over your body, causing a trail of excitement and goosebumps on your skin, which he has easy access to thanks to your dress.

"So wet for me..." he says, softly rubbing the right spot.

With his other hand of his, he holds one of your boobs and squeezes it.

"So delicious," he slides your panties down your legs with only one hand, "and mine." And he enters you.

His hips go all the way down and stop, he buries his face on your neck, and you can perfectly hear all his groans, even the quietest ones, just as he hears yours. He holds your thighs tightly.

Your hearts are pounding, as are your moans as Damiano's hips slide in and out of you faster, his balls hitting you with each thrust, his hands gripping you so firmly it makes you tingle.

You scream his name as you start to feel your legs shake.

"Come for me, Y/N," he says between moans in your ear.

You moan louder and stronger after hearing his voice asking you to come like that, and it's impossible to hold back the huge feeling that is about to explode.

And it comes, as soon as you feel it penetrates you as much as it can, gushing all the pleasure it feels for you inside you, spurt after spurt.

He collapses on top of you, his hands slightly loosening their grip on your thighs. You look at him, his eyes still filled with desire and lust.

You hook your legs around him and spin around on top of him, sitting right on his lap.

"You're even more irresistible with the moonlight illuminating you," he says, lifting both hands and massaging your boobs.

You smile, wiggling slightly with his cock inside you.

"Let's not end this anytime soon then, because I can say the same for you."

And so you spend the night, on Y/N in the Sea with Diamonds, christening every corner of it with pleasure.

"You're even more irresistible with the moonlight illuminating you," he says, lifting both hands and massaging your boobs.

You smile, wiggling slightly your hips with his cock inside you.

"Let's not end this anytime soon then, because I can say the same for you."

And so you spend the night, on Y/N in the Sea with Diamonds, christening every corner of it with pleasure.

[pjisskullourful]

ᵂⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᴴᵘᵐᵒᵘʳ

🐰Damiano × reader

NSFW 🔥 nasty adults engage in sexytimes

° Damiano David/female reader insert

° his wicked sense of humour suggests exciting sex || you & damiano become great friends after meeting at a bar, but it eventually becomes clear this should be more than a friendship [based during il ballo della vita era]

wordcount::: 9,640

° commissioned by the bloody wonder that is jace (@wow-ihateithere)💋 my absolute beloved, you're the best [commissions get priority- there are 3 fics in cue, secure your own spot right here]

° lyrics stolen from björk

The stage manager said your name, prompting you to look up, startled out of the thoughts you had been trying to keep organised. “You’re up next, babes.”

You attempted to return their smile as you got to your feet. This was the driest your mouth had ever been in your life and swarms of butterflies had taken up residence in your belly. You walked over to this relative stranger, wondering if it was too late to run away from this.

But an equal part of you insisted that you keep going and you met the manager’s eye. You had wondered about going through with this for so long, toying with the idea of stand-up comedy for years. You would be betraying a huge part of yourself if you gave into the fear and fled now. You stood in front of this person you had known for less than an hour, steeling yourself.

“When you hear the host introduce you, you just walk out and take the mic from him. Simple, right?”

“Simple.” You repeated, pleased when the word came out clearly.

You barely paid any attention to the act preceding you, they could have been speaking in an entirely made up language without you realising. What you listened to was the audience - they didn’t sound too difficult, they were generous with laughter and no aggressive voices were trying to make themselves known. Even as your hands were sweating, you thought you could do this.

There was a fair amount of applause then the host was saying your name. Before you could question it, you were starting to walk. You saw the spotlight, then you saw the smiling face of the local comedian as he held the microphone out to you. You took it and he left the stage - officially, it was too late to run now. There was modest, welcoming clapping as you turned to face the crowd. The spotlight got in your eyes at once, you raised the microphone towards your face.

“Well, hello there.” You said, a smile on your face as the adrenaline took over. “How are you guys tonight?” You turned the end of the microphone in the direction of the crowd and there were a handful of responding cheers. Less than a second later, you were snatching the microphone back towards yourself with a theatrical rolling of your eyes. “Enough about you, jeez.”

This got you your first laugh, the loudest coming at you from the right-hand side. Your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the light, allowing you to find this amused patron - a long-haired guy who appeared to be about your age. You hoped this wouldn’t be the only time you earned his boisterous laugh.

“I have a confession to make. Yes, an announcement to get us rolling. This is my first time doing stand-up.” You said, prompting some clapping. “Ooh, thank you for the encouragement, keep it coming. Give me that encouragement that I clearly didn’t get through my childhood, otherwise I wouldn’t need to be here.”

This gained laughs as you had hoped, including the long-haired guy. He sounded so genuine, you felt confident that you had him on your side. You thought that so long as you could keep this guy laughing, then you would be okay - you would be able to successfully make it through these next ten minutes.

Your hand was shaky on the microphone, but you didn’t let this rattle you. You glanced down at your other hand, where you had scribbled something of a running order with a fine-tip sharpie. You drew in the deepest breath you could manage and launched into your first proper bit.

It all happened so quickly, once you started talking it flowed out of you. Your nerves couldn’t touch you while you were on a roll like this. Your mouth was still horrendously dry but each word came out without flaw, getting you more laughs. You caught a glimpse of your best friend Liam seated at one of the tables. But your eye kept going back to that expressive stranger with the long hair. And every time you looked, he was either mid-laugh, or wearing a brilliantly bright smile.

Something moving in your peripheral vision of the rest of the stage caught your eye. The host was easing his way back onto the stage - you had done it.

“Well, that’s my time. Thank you so much for having me.” You said and as you spoke, you added more enthusiasm to each word, ramping up while wearing the biggest smile you could manage. “You guys have been so…”

In an instant, you stopped smiling and dropped your voice to a dreary monotone. “...here.” As the audience laughed, you turned to the host. You returned the microphone to the safety of his hands and gave a disappointed shrugging of your shoulders before leaving the stage.

The release was immensely satisfying, plastering a wide smile onto your face. Your body was filled with energising tingles as you got to disappear into the backstage darkness.

You began to laugh, not because anything funny was happening. This was the only way you could react to this overwhelming whirlwind of emotions. Disbelief and relief were married together in an intoxicating rush. You clasped your hands over your face and sank into the pride, so proud to have captured this victory for yourself.

You composed yourself enough to leave the backstage area, still feeling like you were walking on air as you returned to the venue’s main room. You went directly to the bar, not having to wait in line to request a glass of water. You were guzzling it down as quickly as you could, needing to remedy this feeling of the inside of your mouth being drier than a desert.

You had just turned back to the bartender, opening your mouth to speak. But someone else had approached, taking this silence as an opportunity to talk first.

“Whatever she’s having, I’ll pay.” It was the guy with the long hair. You smiled as he came closer, now that you were seeing him clearly you could appreciate how attractive he was. You had thought that his loud laughter would be enough to make him your favourite audience member, but he was racking up more merit points with you.

The bartender raised her eyebrows as she looked at you for a reaction. “Did you want a refill on that glass of water?”

“Fuck. That was meant to be smooth.” He said with a disarming smile as you giggled.

“Is that out of your price range, pal?” You teased before handing your glass back to the bartender. “A refill would be greatly appreciated, thanks.”

He turned to fully face you, resting his elbow on the bar. “I really loved your set and I didn’t think it would be right for you to not have a celebratory drink. But if that conflicts with your sobriety or something, uh…” He dragged his eyes across the stocked shelves behind the bartender. “They’ve got candy bars, I could buy you one of those?”

“I was just rehydrating. You can get me a Midori Illusion.” You said.

As you sipped your water, he repeated this order to the bartender, who got to work mixing. There was another comic on the stage now, earning their own laughs, but you only gave them a cursory glance.

Your new companion provided you with his name - Damiano. You responded with yours and a relaxed handshake was shared. The bartender set the green cocktail down in front of you and he provided payment.

“Thank you for the drink.” You said, downing the rest of your water so you could concentrate on the alcohol.

“No, you earned it. That’s a big deal what you just did.” He said. “Except, I’ve got my doubts over whether or not that was actually your first time.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Pardon me?”

“I’m just sayin’, you seemed like you knew exactly what you were doing up there, like someone with a fair amount of experience.” He said.

“Oh, so I’m a liar, am I?” You asked, wearing an amused grin on your face. “We’ve just met and already you’re calling me a liar?”

“Only a little.” He said, resplendent in his cheekiness.

You shook your head. “I don’t know if I like this side of you, Damiano.”

“Alright, how about this side?” He asked and turned his back on you, looking at you over his shoulder. “Do you like this side better?” He turned again, now putting his back to the bar. “Is this better? I’ll just side-eye you the rest of the night.”

You began laughing, raising a hand to cover your mouth before you got too loud. He appeared pleased by this, a twinkle in his brown eyes as he stood before you normally again.

“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it that you’ve never done that before.” He said.

“I swear…” You didn’t hesitate to reach out, your fingers going around the crucifix pendant on his necklace. You lifted it from between the open collar of his button-down shirt. “Hand to God, that was my first time doing stand-up comedy.”

“Well then you should take my scepticism as a compliment, you’ve got some kind of natural talent for the stage.” He said.

“Thank you. I was so nervous, I was worried that everyone would get distracted by how much my hand was shaking on the mic, it felt-”

“Girl…” Liam’s familiar voice greeted you and you found him quickly approaching you, his arms open wide. “You did it.”

You beamed at your best friend, extending an arm to him, getting excited to bask in the achievement for longer. “I did it.”

He wrapped both arms around your middle, squeezing your body tight to him. You put an arm around him and as you embraced, you thought about all of the encouragement he had given you in the lead up to tonight. He felt this victory with almost the same weight as you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Liam said as he let you go. “I just really had to say congratulations.”

“Yeah, that’s what this guy was doing- meet Damiano.” You said and the two men shared a handshake.

“Oh, we’re kind of in the way here.” Liam said, noticing the influx of people coming to the bar now that the show was over. “Should we find a table?”

“Yes. You’re coming too, right Damiano?” You asked of your new companion.

“Sure.”

The three of you found a small circular table, it was away from the main activity of the club. Conversation could be had without the need to shout over obnoxious background noises. You had some more sips of your provided cocktail.

“Was it as scary as you thought it would be?” Liam asked.

“Yeah. The anxiety was very real. I think that if I hadn’t prepared as much…” You said, pointing to the words on the back of your hand. “...I would have fallen flat on my face.”

Damiano’s eyes had remained on your hand. “Ah, I was wondering what all of that was about.”

“It’s my cheat sheet, I do it with pretty much everything.” You said, twisting your wrist before you placed the palm of your hand on the table in front of him, allowing him to read. “I was gonna make a joke about it, call myself out on it…” You indicated to one of the dot points about halfway down the very abbreviated list. “It’s really practical and helpful in some situations. But it’s not always welcome. My ex-boyfriend wasn’t exactly a fan of me looking at the notes on the back of my hand when we were mid-boning.”

Damiano burst out laughing at that. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. He would think it was weird, taking out the spontaneity compromised the romance, or whatever.” You said.

“Because he was so incredible at all the romantic stuff.” Liam sarcastically commented with a rolling of his eyes.

“What kind of notes did you need for sex?” Damiano asked, still half-laughing.

“I was working on a new blow job technique. And you do not know me well enough to ask any follow up questions about that.” You warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said before swiftly changing the topic, pointing to a different idea on your list. “That bit, that was my favourite, I think I laughed the hardest at that.”

You looked to where he was indicating. “About my parents getting divorced instead of getting me a pet bunny?”

“Yes, the way you told that was hilarious. And so succinct, but I was on the emotional journey with you, and then… no rabbit.” He said.

“Mum is gonna be pissed that I told that story.” You said, glancing at Liam. “She always gets so cranky when she hears me joking about it.”

“What does she have to be cranky about? She wasn’t the one cheated out of a rabbit.” Damiano said.

“I know.” You loudly agreed.

“I keep telling her to just buy one for herself.” Liam said.

You had another sip of your drink before shaking your head. “No, I’ve Googled, they’re actually a lot of work, kinda high-maintenance.”

This set Damiano off laughing again. “But you’re still mad that you didn’t get one as a kid?”

You maintained eye contact with him, wearing a serious expression. “It’s the principle of the thing, sir.”

“You’re so damn funny.” He said. “If you’re not a full-time comedian, then what’s your day job?”

You looked at Liam, he was starting to smirk as he leaned in. Then you returned your full attention to Damiano. “I work retail. You’ve probably heard of the shop I work at.” He cocked his head to one side, clearly curious. “The Tool Shed.”

His eyes grew incredibly wide in an instant - filled with recognition and some other emotions. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the blush rising in his cheeks as he changed how he was sitting. “Mm-hmm.” He said, sucking on his bottom lip a little. “Yep, I believe I’ve heard of that place.”

It was Liam who began laughing first, he was never unamused when seeing someone’s reaction to the fact that you worked at a sex shop. The reaction could reveal a person’s true colours, probably earlier than they anticipated. Whatever Damiano had been expecting, he hadn’t gotten it. You laughed too, enjoying catching him off guard. He started to laugh as well, appearing to loosen up again.

“Good for you.” You said. “Admitting to it, I mean. We’re the biggest adult entertainment shop in Rome, literally everybody knows about us. But there are two types of people- the ones who lie and play dumb, or the ones not afraid to be honest.”

“Congratulations, you’re in the category that we like.” Liam said before getting to his feet. “I’m gonna get a soda.”

Damiano didn’t take his eyes off of you for a second, he leaned in closer across the table. “In the spirit of honesty: my brain did explode a little when you said that.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I could kinda tell.”

“Where was any of that in your set?” He wanted to know. “You must have a million funny stories from working there.”

You had more of your drink. “I do, but I didn’t want to pigeon-hole myself as the sex-shop-girl. Besides, I prefer telling people one-on-one. Imagine if I had deprived myself of seeing your reaction. Anyway, what do you do with yourself?”

“I’m in a band, singer slash a bit of guitar.” He said.

“Yep, that tracks.”

His eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by that?”

“No, no offence, but I didn’t have you picked for a corporate world kind of guy. I judged the book by the cover and I judged that you weren’t selling life insurance or working in a bank.” You said.

“I could work in a bank.” He said, pretending to get defensive.

“Of course you could, sweetheart. You can do anything you set your mind to.” You teased before finishing your cocktail with a final swig. “So, tell me about your band?”

You didn’t just learn about his band (Måneskin - you had actually heard of it before, friends mentioning an interest once or twice), but you learnt a Hell of a lot about him because he was so easy to talk to. Between the two of you, the conversation flowed. You didn’t have time to look around, wondering where Liam had disappeared off to.

You continued to make Damiano laugh as he asked about your life. You returned just as many questions, wanting to hear about all of the interesting experiences he’d already had packed into his life.

There were common interests that you were quickly bonding over. He liked a lot of the same nerdy movies as you. Your sense of humour was syncing up, you didn’t have to explain any of your jabs or worry that he would take them the wrong way. He was a cat person just like you were.

You weren’t conscious of the time as it was passing. But you were forced to acknowledge it when Liam came back to the table, awkwardly announcing that he, your designated driver, had to leave shortly - he had work tomorrow, he couldn’t spend the entirety of his night in this club.

“It was really nice to meet you guys.” Damiano said, getting to his feet at the same time as you did.

“You too.” Liam replied.

“I was serious about being there in the front row for the next time you do stand-up.” Damiano said.

“I know and I was serious when I told you that I would message as soon as it comes up again.” You said. “And I’ll send you photos of Björk when I get home, given she isn’t feeling like running from me. You know how unpredictable cats are.”

“Moody little bastards.” He said.

Something in you was instructing that you give him a parting hug, which you wouldn’t normally do with a stranger. But for some reason, you wanted to.

It’ll be weird, an insistent voice in your head chimed in. You let this be the deciding vote, leaving on friendly terms, but without any further physical contact.

“I did it.” You reiterated after buckling yourself into the passenger seat of Liam’s car.

He paused to give you a longer look rather than starting the engine. “Which part are we celebrating- the stand-up or getting the cute boys’ phone number?”

“I was talking about the stand-up.” You gently corrected. “But if you think Damiano’s cute and you wanna talk about that more- we can.”

“Are you saying you didn’t find him cute?” He asked, starting to drive away from the nightclub. “Which bit wasn’t cute to you- was it all of the tattoos, how tall he is, all of that hair, his giant eyes, or did his really great sense of humour turn you off?”

“Yeah, he’s an attractive guy, but that’s not why I got his number.”

“Sure it’s not.” He said sarcastically, to which you just silently rolled your eyes - you could sense that he wasn’t going to let this point go. “It’s okay girl, he seemed into you too.”

“I wasn’t picking up on that vibe.” You said with a shake of your head.

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.” He said. “You’re just painfully unaware of the fact that you’re a catch.”

You weren’t entirely over your post-performance rush by the time you were unlocking the front door of your home, the pleasing buzz from your accomplishment keeping a smile on your lips.

But you had to keep it inside, you couldn’t risk waking your housemate - she had an early shift tomorrow. Your main goal was to find her pet cat with as little noise as possible. After talking about her so much, you wanted to show Björk off to Damiano. Your night would be incomplete if you couldn’t share a video with him.

The black, white and brown cat looked none-too-enthused by your return home as you approached her spot in the lounge room. She was at the top of her cat tower, not even raising her head to acknowledge you. She continued looking bored as you pointed your phone’s camera at her, stretching your arms out.

See how much she loves me - you sent to him following the video of the cat looking away from you.

His response was very quick, it made you wonder if he had been waiting to hear from you. The bond is very clear.

For the sake of his entertainment, you endeavoured to create a second, more amusing video. Under the cat’s watchful eyes, you swept your hair up, capturing it in a bun on top of your head. Then you got closer to the cat tower, with her gaze fixing on the elevated section of hair.

You turned your back to the tower, lifting your phone again - this time with the front-facing camera on. Björk had taken to batting at your bun before you had begun filming. You just had to make sure you held the phone steady and at the best angle as her attack went on, swiping her paw tirelessly at your hair.

You stepped away when you stopped filming, immediately sending this video to him. We think she was a high-strung hair stylist in a former life.

Before you had reached your bedroom, you were getting his response. Jeez, I thought my brother complaining about my man bun was rude. Another message was quickly following this, note to self: wear hair down when I visit your place.

It didn’t matter that you had moved away from the cat, he kept talking with you. A new conversation began and you still had so much to say to him. You fell asleep with your phone in hand.

*** *** ***

Two months had passed since that night, and ever since you had been in constant contact with Damiano. The friendship had formed effortlessly, spending countless hours sharing ideas and laughter. You never tired of his company, getting to know him incredibly well as you saw him a minimum of once every week.

When you needed to go shopping for a housewarming gift, it seemed only natural that he would accompany you. You needed a second opinion on the ideas of what to get your co-worker ahead of his party this weekend. Damiano could provide the insight of what would suit the home of a heterosexual man - a market you weren’t typically shopping for. He liked feeling useful and you knew he would keep you entertained.

But you had yet to find an item you could agree on. Wandering the aisles of the department store, you had been vetoing one another regularly. He thought a fake plant as a gift had a shady undertone. Buying a laundry hamper for someone felt like something a mum would do, in your opinion. He advised you to stay away from anything decorated with flowers and he was unimpressed by every photo frame that you showed him.

“Why don’t you get this for him?” Damiano suggested, taking a box down from the shelf. “I’m sure Nathan will love this.”

Instead of accepting the box that he held out to you, you gave it a sceptical look. “A wireless charging station?” You just raised your eyebrows as he pushed it further into your personal space. “That doesn’t strike me as a very personal gift.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s practical. I have one, it’s a game-changer.” He said. “If you really want it to be personal, you can get a sharpie and write his name on it. Problem solved, you are so very welcome.”

You took the object from him, getting his hopes up momentarily. But then you returned it to the shelf. “I’m not, though. I don’t want to get him something that he could easily go out and buy for himself. Personal, that’s a really important factor here.”

“If it’s so fucking important, then why isn’t it written on the back of your hand?” He asked.

You considered the back of your hand, which was free of any kind of list for once. “Oh, the back of this hand? Did you wanna get a closer look at it, maybe as I’m smacking you upside the head with it?”

Instead of challenging you further, he took half a step away from you. “We need to get out of the tech section. We’re not gonna find anything with a personal touch here.”

He didn’t hesitate to leave the aisle, but you took your time, looking at the stock all around you. For the moment you weren’t thinking about Nathan, considering products for yourself.

A man saying your name distracted you, it wasn’t Damiano’s voice. And when you looked up, you immediately wished it was him, rather than the man approaching you. But you fixed a smile to your face, covering the fact that you were cringing inside.

Brad, it had been almost a full year since you had last seen him, the best friend of your ex-boyfriend. He had been around quite regularly, loving to remind you that he knew your boyfriend better than you ever would. His other favourite ‘jokes’ had revolved around the age-gap in your relationship. When you broke up with Chad, you had removed him and any of his friends from your social media, and you hadn’t looked back for a single second.

“Wow, what are the chances of bumping into you here?” Brad marvelled, wearing a smile that easily bested yours.

Silently you cursed the luck that had seen your paths crossing. “Kinda crazy.”

“You look really, really great.” He said after giving you an up-and-down assessment, which lingered at your chest - far from the first time you had caught him looking at your tits.

“Oh, thanks. And you- yeah, you too.”

He had walked over to stand directly in front of you, closer than what was necessary, bringing the strong scent of his cologne into your nostrils. “Thanks. I renewed my gym membership and I’ve actually been using it, not just wasting my money.”

“That’s cool.” You said.

“Are you seeing anybody new?” He asked. “Pretty little thing like you probably had a line waiting to take Chad’s place, huh?”

“I don’t know about that.” You said and he went on grinning, his amusement frustrating you. “I’ve mostly just been concentrating on myself, not really seeing anyone right now.”

His eyes moved down the entirety of your body again. “How have you been?” He asked, then kept on talking before you had the chance to respond. “I thought about reaching out to you, like a million times. Because the way things ended with you and Chad- that was really shitty.”

‘Don’t remind me’, you thought bitterly. He had only gotten the cliff notes. He hadn’t been there for the weeks of loud arguments, he hadn’t seen Chad throwing your phone and other belongings out the window of his apartment. You doubted Chad’s retellings had included all of the rude names he had called you, he was probably the hero in his version.

“And I wanted to know if you were okay through it. But I figured I wasn’t the person you would want to talk to, so I gave you space and all of that.” Brad said. “I don’t really talk to Chad that much anymore, you don’t have to worry about me running to him after this, with a report about bumping into you.”

This didn’t clear you of much discomfort. “Oh, that’s good.”

“We should hang out…” He said.

In the corner of your vision, you saw movement and Damiano was coming over. You were swept with relief, fighting against the urge to run over to your friend. He was respectfully keeping from rushing into the conversation, more polite than you needed him to be right now.

“Chad’s out of the picture, but that doesn’t mean me and you can’t stay friends and, you know…” Brad said, a certain look in his eyes.

You had no idea how to respond, so you grasped for the closest thing to a life-preserver that you had. “Damiano.” You held your hand out to him. “You’ve gotta meet Brad.” You were extremely grateful when he took your hand, safety. “This is my friend, Damiano.”

“What’s up, man?” Brad’s voice was completely monotone and his eyes were on Damiano for less than a second. “Anyway, we should get a coffee or dinner or you could come to my place, so we could catch up properly. I’d really like to catch up with you, honey.”

You took half a step back from him, your need to be polite dwindling as you considered hiding behind Damiano. “Actually, I’m busy with work lately and my weekend is already full, so…”

“So another time then.” Brad said. “Let me give you my number.”

You just blinked at the open palm of his hand, where he was expecting you to place your phone. “Uh, I’ve already got it. From that Halloween when Chad lost his phone.”

Brad continued to hold his hand out. “That was my old number, I got a different one when I updated my phone- got the new iPhone.”

“Hey, I’ve got something to show you a few aisles over.” Damiano told you with a brief squeeze of your hand. “The perfect thing for that party you’re going to this weekend.”

“Well hang on pal, we’re trying to get something organised here.” Brad said. “I really think we should catch up. I’ve missed you, haven’t you missed me?”

Instead of answering, you looked at Damiano, who was taking in all of this with his eyebrows raised very high. His eyes darted over to you and he seemed to know what you needed, speaking up again. “What exactly would she have missed about you- your horrible cologne or your inability to take a hint?”

“Excuse me, and who are you?” Brad asked, no longer expecting you to hand over your phone. “I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

“But check this out, you’re getting it anyway. Aren’t you lucky?” Damiano responded, full of that irrepressible sass that had you mentally cheering him on. “It’s time for you to take a seat, son.”

“Son?” Brad repeated - you made a mental note to tease Damiano over this later. In a less tense moment, it would be funny that he had called a man almost a decade older than him ‘son’.

“She’s just being polite but you hitting on her like this isn’t welcome, it’s making her uncomfortable. Which would be obvious to you if you were talking to her like an actual human.” Damiano said, eloquently expressing himself even though his annoyance was clear. You weren’t taking any notice of how Brad was reacting, as your heart was racing, your eyes were locked on Damiano. He appeared taller in this moment and you were admiring him like never before.

“But you don’t know how to do that and I sincerely feel sorry for the women in your life.” He said, finally finding what it took to get Brad to move back. “So take a seat, you can take several seats. We have a housewarming party to shop for.”

Maybe Damiano had another comeback in mind (possibly more than one) because he didn’t instantly walk away, instead giving Brad the opportunity to respond. But the man from your unpleasant past was silent and you were freed of this interaction. He took a step back, his eyes going down to the ground.

Damiano checked on you before turning and walking away, still holding your hand. You went with him, feeling a surge of more than just relief. Before you had left the aisle, you were already smiling. You didn’t know where he was going, but you were happy to be going with him, buzzing with every step.

“What a sleaze.” He commented. Then he held up a pink, stuffed bunny toy, which you had been too flustered to notice him holding until now. He passed it to you. “I found you a pet rabbit.”

You were blushing as you accepted the plushie. “Sweetie.”

Hand-in-hand, you walked past five aisles before he turned down one, determining this to be far enough from Brad. You walked about halfway down the aisle, surrounded by home security wares as Damiano placed himself in front of you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his brow furrowed as he concentrated only on you.

“Sure, I’m fine. I just feel like I need to do this…” You pushed invisible dirt off of each of your forearms, as if Brad’s very presence had brought grime to your skin. “There’s someone I didn’t need to bump into. He’s not the top of the list, but still…”

“Yeah, I could tell that it wasn’t a happy reunion for you. And with what you’ve told me about what Chad did to you, I figured you wouldn’t want to be reminiscing on that time in your life.”

Damiano was one of the only people in your life that you had told the full story of your breakup to. You didn’t indulge the misery inside of you by thinking about it very often and you really didn’t like talking about it. But you trusted him. And he had returned that trust, telling you about the breakup he had gone through not long before your meeting, the end of a two year relationship.

“You’re right, thank you.” You said. “Ugh, I hate confrontation, but you just handled that so well.”

“I didn’t say anything out of line, did I?”

“No, I was happy- I liked everything you said. Like, damn, seeing you all protective like that, it really makes me wonder what you’d look like between my thighs.” You said, maintaining eye-contact, even as you felt butterflies filling your tummy.

This wasn’t followed by an instant comeback from him, it seemed that he needed time to register this information. He stared at you, a new smile growing on his face. You smiled back, part of you in disbelief that you had said it, the rest of you very glad that you had. Your fingers fidgeted against the soft fur of the rabbit as you waited for him to move past this uncharacteristic quietness.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked.

You didn’t want to laugh and try to pass it off as a joke, instead you stepped in closer to him. “I think you know what I mean, sweetheart.”

He watched you as you raised your empty hand, holding it to his cheek. He was licking his lips as you got in closer, until you could reach his mouth with yours.

Gently, he kissed you back and you were soon feeling your heart racing. The rest of the large shop faded away as you leaned into him more. You savoured how exciting this was, as well as how natural it felt, as if you should have been doing this all along.

You deepened the kiss, unwilling to let this be short. You loved the feeling of his arm slipping around your waist, bringing so much security. It made you want to kiss him for hours, to make up for lost time. It made you want to go on discovering him in this way, to keep going until you were drunk on him.

Before pulling away, you couldn’t help swiping your tongue against his lip - feeding your curiosity because his taste was all that you wanted to know.

You watched his eyes slowly flutter open, you weren’t minding his silence so much now. The hand not holding onto the toy moved down to hold his and it was like holding his hand for the first time. You stayed close, studying his face like never before as he started smiling.

“Do you want me to explain what I mean?” You offered.

“No, I wanna take you back to my house.” He said and you didn’t know if you had ever heard a more seductive offer in your life. Already you knew this would be different to any of the other times you had been to his apartment. “I wanna know more about being between your thighs.”

Your cheeks were burning hot as you nodded. “Good, ‘cause that’s what I want, right fucking now.”

He gave your hand a keen squeeze, but he didn’t immediately begin walking for the exit. “What about buying the gift?”

“I’ll order the charging station online, whatever.”

“So now it’s a good enough gift?” He asked, looking a little smug.

But you just rolled your eyes. “That’s the thing you’re choosing to concentrate on right now?”

“Right.” He said and he spared you any bragging. “What about the rabbit?”

You didn’t hesitate to stuff it onto the closest shelf, where it immediately stood out as an imposter. “It’s not coming home with me.”

“But I am?” He asked, grinning as he clearly forgot all about the toy.

“That’s right.”

You thought about kissing him again. But before you could act on this, he was making a hurried exit from the aisle, your hand secured in his. You were beaming as you rushed to keep up with him. He didn’t slow down and you didn’t ask him to, this quickness matched the racing of your heart. You were too excited to remember to fear another bump into Brad and very soon you were power walking through the doors.

*** *** ***

Damiano had never touched you like this before, but he did it all without hesitation. This new level of closeness didn’t intimidate him and he wasn’t unsure of where he wanted to put his hands, making you wonder how much time he had dedicated to thinking about this before today.

You had thought about it. Not instantly after meeting him, but it was an idea that had begun popping up. As you spent time together, it would occur to you that you had the opportune moment to make a move and you had seriously considered it more than once. But you would always find a reason to stop yourself.

But there was no stopping now. Everything leading up to you reaching his bedroom had passed in a fast blur. There had been grabbing as you both explored, whispered requests and you were starting to learn his kissing technique.

The excitement was sizzling in the air between the two of you as you stood in his bedroom, removing clothing. You were seeing tattoos on him that you had never seen before and he was seeing all of your scars for the first time. You were so eager to see what came next.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He said, bringing your naked body into his arms so that he could secure more kisses. You shut your eyes as you sank into this embrace. His hands were tender as they moved over so much bare skin. “I wanna absolutely worship you…”

Having never heard this before, you couldn’t help but smile. You caressed the nape of his neck as you looked into his eyes, seeing great anticipation reflected back to you. “That sounds really romantic, sweetheart. But what does that mean, it’s kinda vague.”

“You’re right. Let me make it clear for you, yeah?” He asked. “Please, lay down on your back for me.”

You did this instantly. It felt like it had been years since you had last experienced intimacy. And you had never had it like this before. As you automatically spread your thighs, you struggled to recall a partner that you had been this honest with. You felt safety as you looked at that familiar face, even as he looked at you in a different way. In this security, you were granted the luxury of being vulnerable, you wanted to serve your vital connection by holding nothing back.

He had brought his knees down to the mattress, towards the end of the bed. As leaned down closer to you, his eyes swept up-and-down your body, lingering the longest on your face. He studied your expression, looking for a reaction that suggested you needed to stop.

When he didn’t get this, he progressed with getting into position to eat your cunt. Your heart was pounding as you watched all of this, acutely aware of how his body heat reached your skin before you felt his touch. You had never had a man begin with cunnilingus before, not without an exhaustive amount of begging from you.

You were so keen that you couldn’t help squirming before he’d had the opportunity to lower his head down to your crotch. The ends of his long hair tickled at your thighs, until you gathered it up in your hands, twisting some of the strands around your fingers. You watched as his brown eyes got locked onto your cunt and you sucked in a quick breath.

His fingers were gentle as they went to your labia, parting them just enough to get your moist clit exposed to him. You let out a shaky sigh when he touched his lips to your clit, greeting the hood with a little kiss. You were immediately invigorated by this feeling, getting your hopes up at this seemingly promising start.

He didn’t shy away from giving your clit more attention. You rested your head down on his pillow, your thighs opening wider as he trained his tongue onto the hood, working it back-and-forth in a luxurious massage. So many sensitivities sprang to life inside of you and his unhurried movements made it seem like he had the time to explore all of them. You sank into this teasing as you happily floated away from everything else.

Needy whines were falling from your lips when he placed his mouth around your clitoral hood so that he could begin sucking on it. This intensity had you seeing little stars in your vision. You felt so much blood surging into the hood, until all of your cunt seemed to be aching. You tilted your pelvis and he kept your legs from moving by placing his hands to each of your thighs.

“Fuck. You are really good at this.” You told him as more of your body was rocked by these dazzling sensations.

He let your clit slip out from between his lips and lifted his head, gazing up at you. “Thanks babygirl. And I don’t even need notes on the back of my hand to help me give good head.”

You frowned in response to the very pleased smile on his face and you made to reposition your leg. “Prepare to be kicked, I will kick you in that smug, pretty boy face.”

He laughed, unbothered by your threat. He ensured that you couldn’t act upon this by grabbing both of your ankles, his fingers wrapped tight as he forced them onto the mattress. Your heart was launched into your throat as he quickly transferred his grip to your knees, holding them down. He met your gaze and you could see he was still smiling, still happy with himself.

You were without any further threats, nor did you have any sassy comments to make. You were just concentrating on how it felt to have him pinning your legs down, how it made you desire him all the more. You knew you wouldn’t be able to easily get yourself free and you loved it, you wanted to know more of his control.

You were even wetter when he returned his mouth to your pussy. You were so happily at his mercy as he kept a consistent pressure on your knees.

He glided his tongue over the hood in one smooth motion. Then the next thing you were feeling was just the tip of his tongue, reaching down to give the hood something like a poke. It was over just as quickly as it had begun. Then you were feeling it again-and-again as he bobbed his head, bouncing the tip of his tongue against your clitoral hood.

Your breathing had become laboured but you smiled as you enjoyed these quick bursts of contact. His firm tongue was building up tingles inside of you, ready to surge through all of you. The moments when your clit was allowed to pulse against his tongue were so thrilling, filling you with something more powerful than butterflies and you knew they could take you higher. But the moments in between were exciting as well, your nerves on edge as you tried to recover from his last tap, while attempting to prepare for the next.

He worked according to his own tempo. You were enjoying this masterful teasing so much that you found yourself beginning to laugh, a desperate, gasping sound that you had no control over.

You sought out a use for the tension gripping you and so you set your hips into motion. You rode the waves of pleasure, synchronising with him occasionally.

You liked this indulgence so much that you kept at it, steadily rocking into his face. You continued going, even when he stopped bouncing his tongue to go back to sucking on your clitoris. The stakes were higher this time around, prompting your knees to twitch and tremble under his hands.

The way that he wiggled his head paired perfectly with the way you were rolling your hips. It wasn’t just teasing anymore, with every single inch of your clitoris being stimulated it was getting to be mind-blowing. He was taking full advantage of all of the sensitivities in this very concentrated area and you were obsessed with it.

“Mmn…” You moaned as your grinding into his face got more powerful and you began to partially sit up.

You could sense the edge coming and it intimidated you. You grabbed his hand with one of yours and he instantly held it back, letting you squeeze. Your other hand went to your mouth, somewhat muffling the sounds that were coming in more frequently.

The trembles in your body had become non-stop and there were even more stars in your vision. Your heart sat in your throat as you continued to enjoy the intensity of his lips caress.

Your breathing skipped and you came undone. Your entire body jolted, feeling the dazzling surprise. Your knees shot up and you forced yourself into his face with all of the strength that you had.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck…” You whimpered as you well and truly captured the peak.

Your clit continued to pulse as he pulled back. Your chest was burning as you looked down and placed your hands to his cheeks. His eyes were sparkling as they reached your face, surveying you again.

“Are you alright, babygirl?” He asked, repositioning his body between your legs.

“More than.” You felt like you were stating the obvious as you said it. “Get on top of me, right fucking now.”

“Let me get a condom.”

You were still filled with so much desire, hardly worn out from your orgasm as you watched him covering his boner with latex. You weren’t done enjoying him in this way, stuck wondering how much higher he could take you.

You could taste your pussy on his lips as soon as he started to kiss you, his mouth hungrily reclaiming yours. He kissed you deep enough to steal away what little breath you did have.

He laid down on top of you, his body comfortably fitting with yours. In the process, your mouths didn’t separate, chasing more of this connection. He wrapped one arm around your middle, holding you tight, skin pressed on skin like never before. Soon you were experiencing the sensation of melting into each other.

You draped one of your arms over his shoulders, so very happy with this embrace. Your hand moved up the back of his neck, synchronising with how you eased your tongue forward, teasing it between his lips. You held the back of his head as you guided your tongue deeper, pushing over the top of his.

You had been feeling his cock all along, its stiffness pressing against you and trying to gain your attention. You instantly noticed when he repositioned to get it closer to your pussy and you responded by moving your thighs further apart. He fit into this space perfectly.

You slid your tongue against the roof of his mouth as he slowly stuffed himself into you. He was whining as your cunt eagerly hugged to the first couple of inches of his cock. His receptive head was engulfed and the arm holding you tensed.

He drew back from your mouth with a gasp. Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of him licking his lips. His face remained very close to yours as ragged breaths fell from his mouth. He adjusted his weight on top of you, his ever-watchful eyes still monitoring all of your reactions.

“You’re just so beautiful.” He said and you wanted to remember this look on his face for the rest of your life - how did this keep getting more intimate? Surely a limit would soon be reached.

“And I bet that- well, I wanna see if you get even sexier when you come.” He said.

You smiled as you wrapped one of your legs around his waist. “Yeah, that’s what you wanna see?”

“Yeah.” He echoed you immediately.

You rolled your hips up, taking a little more of him into your pussy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He repeated, his eyelids briefly fluttering when you plunged forward another time.

There was a feeling of pressure on your tender clit as you gave another thrust, making the movement of your body with his even more significant.

As he began experimenting with his range of motion, more of his dick disappeared inside of you. Soon you were writhing into him, encouraging the swinging of his hips. You held tighter to him, embracing this momentum.

He had established a rhythm, still sliding more of his length into you. His eyes remained on your face, not a single reaction went unnoticed as he concentrated on your enjoyment.

You loved the feeling of grinding against him as you matched his tempo, meeting him thrust-for-thrust. You were safe to go higher with him, unafraid to make more honest sounds as the pleasure kept increasing. Those stars were back in your vision.

He bottomed out with a gasp, his hips on yours pinning you down to the bed. You both paused, your bodies settling into this new closeness. Then he bumped his nose against yours, tilting his head until he could capture your lips in a kiss.

As you concentrated on kissing him, the fluttering of your sensitive inner-walls continued beyond your control. The eager, unpredictable spasming made it impossible for him to remain still for very long. You welcomed the friction that came with this and you joined the momentum as soon as you could.

When he picked up speed, you kept up with him. Desperation dictated your movements and you could feel each collision having so much impact. It was getting harder to breathe but you didn’t mind, just enjoying how deep these stimulations were reaching. It was so intense, poised to take over every part of your body.

He let out a choked sob after your lips parted. Listening to his laboured breathing, you could notice his rocking had lost some of its smoothness. His hand went to the pillow beside your head, muscles flexing as he gripped it in a fist.

“You feel so- oh- good.” He moaned, his approval making your heart do a little somersault.

“So do you, sweetheart.” You said over the consistent noises of your skin slapping together. “Keep fucking me. Please keep fucking me just like that, Damiano.”

“I think that I- oh, I’m close.” His words came out in a strained whisper and you could clearly see the effort on his face. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” You asked with a smile, paying attention to the little changes he already displayed.

He had said he wanted to see you come, but now it was you who wanted to watch. You wanted to know how he looked in that moment of perfection, how he reacted to it.

“Yeah.” He said shakily.

“Do it, you should do it.” You purred, giving him a quick kiss.

He was holding his eyes shut as he kept still. A crease had formed between his eyebrows and his breathing was heavier than ever. “I don’t think I can hold off.”

You tightened your leg around him and grinded a little. “Do it, come. Be a good boy and come for me.”

His bottom lip trembled and he whispered your name before easing himself back into motion. You gathered up handfuls of his long hair, holding it away from his face, your view unobscured as he kept getting quicker. It was a rhythm you didn’t have the strength to match as you just rode out the rapidly increasing pleasure.

It only took a few more enthusiastic thrusts to get him over that edge. His orgasm was reached with a triumphant whine as he latched onto his bottom lip with his teeth. He stopped mid-plunge into you, the creases leaving his face as he secured his delight.

You were watching the fluttering of his eyelids before his head slumped. He brought his forehead down to rest against your shoulder, sighing heavily. You played with his hair, feeling how he continued to throb inside of you.

“I didn’t mean to- I didn’t- that’s not how-...”

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

He groaned, keeping his head down. “I couldn’t help it, but I didn’t want to come first. I wanted it- fuck…”

“It’s not a big deal.” You said.

He groaned again, sounding truly displeased. “The woman should always come first. That’s what I think, and usually I can…”

“What… are you seri-...?” You tried to manually lift his head. “I did come.” This got the desired reaction and he looked up at you. “When you were going down on me, I came. I told you that you’re really good at-...”

“I didn’t know you came from that.” He said, seeming that he was coming back into himself.

“Oh. I didn’t know that you didn’t know.” You said. You nuzzled your nose against his, smiling as an opportunity presented itself. “I bet you could make me louder, so loud that it’s crystal clear this time.”

He smiled back as he braced himself by putting his hands on the bed. “I’d love that.”

You leaned in, your lips hovering less than an inch from his. “Do it, sweetheart. Get me off again.” You kissed him, giving him a greater sense of how eager you remained. “I know you can do it.”

He was still smiling when he started to move again, rocking his hips as he stayed buried deep inside of you. He hovered over you, watching how you took it when he established the rhythm.

You let your eyes flutter shut, those twinkling stars ready to greet you at once. You didn’t quite match his movements as you rolled your hips, but the motion felt good, all of your body invested in these wonderful sensations.

It was all enough to take you higher and you didn’t resist any of the noises that were soon rising up inside of you. You weren’t using your hand to muffle these moans. You let them come out loudly, celebrating your pleasure without any shame. His enjoyment of this was obvious as he pounded into you quicker and harder.

It was building to something truly spectacular, you knew this as fact as you kept writhing and trembling underneath him. You could see the stars expanding in your mind’s eye as your inner-walls spasmed relentlessly around him. The desperation gripped you like never before, going straight to your head until every thought was blocked out.

“Fuck.” You cried out in response to every bit of intense stimulation shooting at a direct path to your core. You simply couldn’t hide, you would be shortly overwhelmed.

“Come, babygirl.” He cooed, his words marked with exertion. “Come for me.”

The stars in your eyes became fireworks, fizzing and bursting in a fabulous display. Your body rocketed up into him for one last collision before you were pushed over the glorious edge. You loudly rejoiced as you surrendered all control.

The next thing you were aware of was your body slumping back onto the mattress as you greedily sucked in as much air as possible. You were still seeing the glow of the fireworks as he carefully pulled out. You felt him applying soft kisses to your face, but you were still too far gone to react to this.

You were gradually coming back into yourself as he laid down next to you. He initiated the beginnings of a cuddle with one arm around you and you savoured this continuing closeness. It wasn’t long before you were cuddling him back.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were instantly taking in the sight of his bright smile. It made your heart flutter a little and you found yourself reflecting on the first time you had seen him smiling at you like this. You supposed he’d been in possession of a piece of your heart ever since he had made that night for you - this was a conclusion you probably should have seen coming. As you inched closer to him, you smiled back. You enjoyed seeing him in this new light.

“Do you feel worshipped, babygirl?” He asked and you sensed you could get addicted to him calling you this nickname.

“God, yes.”

“Excellent, because there’s more where that came from.” He told you before covering your lips in enthusiastic kisses.

»»————-　♡　————-««  

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Chapter 19: Northern Lights

Author's Note

Word count: 8.2k

Read the rest here!

Operating on autopilot, you brush your teeth while a sense of existential dread settles just under your sternum. It's heavy, asphyxiating. Today was gonna be hard. Largely because you weren’t allowed to have a hard day since it’d been Damiano that had a crisis: relapse. He needed your support and you’re pondering the extent of this responsibility when the drug test on the back of the toilet catches your eye. Somehow, you’d forgotten about it.

Negative for everything. Except marijuana, which Dami had already disclosed. Overwhelmed, you slide down to the floor with your back against the wall. You didn’t feel anything. Not relief, nor anger. Not even disappointment. Stranger than numbness was the urge to cry when your eyes won’t even tear up. Standing upright then spitting out the foamy toothpaste, you stare at your reflection. Cry. If you’re gonna do it, do it. Because after this you need to be strong. So cry. Fucking cry. The tears don’t come. Your dry eyes burn, and despite sleeping relatively well, you look drained of life force.

In the name of coping mechanisms, you devote an extra five minutes to a makeup look that always makes you feel put together and pretty. Today it comes off as clownish. The blush is too intense and the eye shadow garish. There isn’t enough time to take it off and start again so you avoid looking in the mirror and shift focus to getting dressed. One thing at a time. Pairing this mantra with caffeine will likely be the only force propelling you through today. One thing at a time still feels like more than you could handle, but not functioning wasn’t an option, either. Your chest tightens.

“Hey, goodmorning.” Damiano’s voice startles you. He typically got up around when you left for work.

“Shit! What time is it?”

“It’s 8:07, don’t worry.” Dami harshly clears his throat twice, trying to get rid of his gravelly morning voice. It's almost an accurate replication of normalcy, except he won’t look at you. Damiano begins making espresso and his eyes briefly dart in your direction.

“What do you want for breakfast?” The moment’s cognitive dissonance is truly formidable. 

“I –” Obviously he was trying to make last night up to you. Should you accept? Do you even want to?

“I – no! No. You – we’re not just gonna skip to this part.” He looks so fucking wounded, a kind of woundedness that can only be achieved when you’re not expecting the pain. Only visible for a second, then he hides it. Still, you’re in agony.

“You – I need…I – don’t do that! Don’t make that fucking face at me. It’s been less than 12 hours and we were sleeping most of them. How can you reasonably expect me to have processed last night in less than 12 hours?”

“You’re right, it's not fair. I guess that I –”

“If you know it's not fair then why are you so fucking destroyed over it!? I can’t –” You stare out the window, thanking whatever cosmic entity may be that you can’t cry right now.

“I’m sorry.”

“No!” Your voice comes out high pitched and guttural in anguish. “No, don’t –” You stamp your foot. It was a childhood habit that you loathed, but still made an appearance in moments of emotionally charged exasperation.

“I’m sorry. I was just, I was just…” He trails off, staring at the floor. You stomp across the apartment and briefly strangle him in a hug. Dami is so surprised that by the time he embraces in return, you’re pulling away, keeping your gaze fixed on the chipped corner of the kitchen cabinets. Because meeting his eyes up close, even for a millisecond, might be more than you can bear. With a large step back, you attempt verbal communication.

“Don’t apologize for having an emotional reaction.”

“I’m sorry for relapsing.”

“That you can apologize for.” Next you stare at the catch all basket by the door and feel your face heat up. “I just can’t take you looking so devastated over me not wanting to play house right now.” Had you not demanded last night that he disclose the hardship of Substance Abuse Disorder to you? This morning he does so for all of two nanoseconds and you react like this. 

“No, I’m sorry. I take it back.” Of what you can see out of the corner of your eye, Dami’s expression is perplexed.

“You take what back?”

“That reaction. I want to know what you’re genuinely feeling right now. I want to support you through this.” You steel yourself before meeting his eyes, but Dami is, again, intent on staring at the ground. He presses his lips together while rapidly shaking his head.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be, ugh…” Damiano sighs heavily. In the background, the water boils audibly. He returns to his task of making espresso while crafting a sentence. One hand is braced against the counter. It's the same hand that caressed the bare skin of your stomach last night. What the fuck had you been thinking? Even while disparaging yourself, you can feel how sturdy and reassuring and loving Damiano’s body was as it lay behind you. He couldn’t have pulled you any closer without undressing. And it felt so natural.

“You shouldn’t be consoling me. I’m the only one that should be apologizing, even if you’re angry, if you yell at me, whatever. And you don’t, ugh…” Dami uses the hand not bracing to gesticulate. “Supporting me through relapse doesn’t mean not being pissed at me. I – that reaction,“ he points towards the bathroom, “was perfectly fine. It was fine. I just wasn’t sure how to acknowledge what happened and be like ‘oh, hey! Sorry I relapsed. Can I make you breakfast? Not in I’m-making-amends-through-this-gesture-and-if-you-accept-I-will-expect-it-to-count-towards-my-forgiveness kinda way, but in a I’m-up-and-want-to-do-something-nice- for-you kind of way.” You take a beat to think and settle on meeting him in the middle.

“I will take an omelet and a double, please.”

“Okay.” He sighs in relief and sort of smiles. Also inhaling deeply for the first time since probably yesterday, you return your focus to getting ready. When selecting a pair of shoes, the safe at the bottom of the closet is a reminder to give Dami back his phone and keys. The memory of the night before comes crashing down; his suicidal ideation, how tortured he was by self-hatred. You end up on all fours, studying the scratched floor of your closet while weathering this rat’s nest of emotions.

You’d let Dami back into your life knowing relapse was inevitable and deciding it was an inevitability you were prepared for. However, he’d been so even keel since coming home that it made yesterday jarring as a reality check. 

“Hey, um,” he knocks on your bedroom door, tone uncertain.

“Come in.” You don’t feel short of breath until your voice comes out as such. Dami slowly opens the door, holding your plate and espresso.

“You okay?” 

“Just getting your stuff out of the safe.”

“Oh.” Awkwardly, he steps out of the room and turns his back. You’re so caught up that, on the first try, you enter in the wrong code. The safe beeps abrasively and a small light at the top of the keypad flashes red. On the second try you make a point not to be frantic and get it right. 

“Okay, here you go.” The metal door of the safe slams shut. Your nervous system is so fried that you jump, heartbeat skipping.

“Right.” Damiano swivels, both hands occupied with your breakfast just as both of your own hands are occupied with his belongings. In disjointed gestures you try to exchange the items before realizing it's physically impossible.

“Let's set it on the dining room table.”

“Right, yes. Good idea.” You cringe at the silence following Damiano putting the dishes down. “Um…okay, so now you will be late if you don’t leave soon, actually,” he calls from the kitchen.

“Shit!” You pull on your most well-worn pair of boots. Even scurrying around the apartment, they omit a sophisticated click each time the sole collides with the flooring. Upon making it to the door, you look back to see Dami sitting at the table and eating. In front of your empty chair is the untouched omelet and full cup of espresso he’d so tenderly made for you. The scene was reminiscent of a date night. As if he’d cooked dinner for two, then been stood up. So Damiano was left to eventually eat his meal all alone, after accepting you wouldn’t show. Cold food and wondering what he’d done wrong.

Dami isn’t reading into the moment at all. His down-turned eyes are preoccupied with his phone, but his words from last night are still fresher than a wound needing stitches. The phrase “do you a favor and throw myself off the roof” is running through your head on repeat, even when you try to direct your thoughts elsewhere. In fact, Damiano was standing almost exactly where you are now when he’d said it. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Your voice comes out frail and shaking, so much so that Dami’s head snaps up.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll be fine.” Sweetheart. He misses the slip-up because he’s preoccupied by concern, setting his fork down to examine you. “I’m just gonna treat it like any other day: eat this, work out, go to treatment.” Unable to feel your face, but aware that this is an appropriate time to nod, you consciously perform the gesture. “I mean, obviously, I don’t feel good right now, but I’ll be okay. A lot of rehab was focused on getting back on the wagon, so to speak.”

“‘Kay.” 

“Like, I hate myself right now, but I’m not gonna throw my sobriety away and go on a bender or something. Because I know that ultimately I’ll end up feeling so much shittier. Try not to worry.” He smiles in good humor: knowing, gentle, calm. “I’m sure you will anyways, but you don’t need to.” The difference in Damiano’s temperament since devoting himself to treatment is suddenly so evident. His chest isn’t puffed out with bravado, speaking from the perspective that he’s less fallible than your typical mortal. He’s not manic, you realize.

“You’re sure?” Dami’s conciliatory expression is brimming with empathy. 

“Yes, my love,” he placates, then catches himself. “Erm – y/n, sorry. Basically, I…I’ve examined my behavior a lot. Not just in the sense of hurting people, but also – I’m totally springing this on you, so I’ll skip to the point. As a person, I am done behaving that way, okay? So you’ll go to work; I’ll go to therapy where they’ll probably treat me like a pipe bomb. Then we’ll complain about how shitty our days were while eating takeout.” After the alarming way he’d spoken last night, it was a relief to hear Damiano genuinely sound like himself. The steady, resilient version of himself that predated addiction and the omnipresent hysteria.

You’d been holding out for it, gazing into the sky every night as if searching for the Northern Lights. Damiano acting like the man you fell in love with again – despite the incognizance with which he did so – was worthy of exactly this display. Opulent shades of violet and greens so electric they become yellow hurtling across a midnight canvas with the abandon of a child first learning to dance.

“Are you okay?” You’re about to say yes, out of habit, then realize that you could choose honesty over politeness and admit that the answer is no. But what’s the result? Being late for work and, in the process, interrupting Damiano’s routine. He needed the control and predictability his schedule offered, now more than ever. Allowing him to expend even an ounce of this precious resilience on comforting you was downright irresponsible. Dangerous, even, because you had no idea how much tranquility the day’s events would require. 

But it wasn’t that simple. Concealing your emotions had previously fueled communication failures which contributed to breaking up. Logically, mending things meant doing the opposite. Damiano’s simple question left you to choose between his sobriety and your relationship. The choice was obvious. You’d made it before. It was the exact choice presented to you at the time of the breakup. An event from which you feel so far removed, that it might have happened in a past life. Simultaneously, in this moment, the pain is fresh enough to sting, as if it was merely yesterday that your heart was mercilessly cleaved in two.  You want to scream, out loud, how the fuck did we end up here again? 

“Y/n?” He cocks his head then his eyebrows furrow. You remind yourself that Damiao is not your boyfriend. You cannot expect him to provide the level of comfort and support a primary partner would. If you needed it, then too fucking bad, you’d have to get it elsewhere. This was a decision you made, a boundary you’d set. Because a stronger version of the fragile girl quivering by the front door knew that Damiano solely focusing on his own wellbeing was necessary for his sobriety. So you try to pull it together and decide on reaching out to Sam during lunch break. They had the wisdom of someone twice their age with the inner serenity to match.

“Hey.” Damiano stands upright, rounding the corner of the table. The sound of the chair legs against the floor makes you flinch, breaking your train of thought. Holding a hand out, you stop Dami from approaching.

“I feel guilty for not having time to eat  the breakfast that you made me. I really don’t want to start out today with you feeling rejected or lonely and end up reaching for substances to cope.”

“I don’t feel rejected and just the thought of liquor makes me nauseous, right now.”

“Liquor…you know liquor isn’t the only thing I’m worried about.”

“Well, frankly, the other stuff is a lot harder to get, especially if you’re not willing to poison yourself. It's also fucking expensive in Rome, so I’d have to be carrying around a fuck ton of cash and look." Damiano picks his wallet up from the table and opens it. The only currency that falls out are some coins and a two dollar bill Victoria gave him for good luck. “The fuck am I gonna get with this?” He holds it up, almost grinning until he examines your features and realizes that this has been the opposite of reassuring. Dami immediately picks up on turmoil brewing beneath the surface, but little does he know that it’s more like a cataclysm. 

“You’re thinking about it.” It's a struggle to force the words out, like your body doesn’t want them to be true.

“Last night I was, yeah.” He admits it quietly, but his whole demeanor changes. Dami felt triumphant a moment ago, for not using drugs, not giving himself the means to acquire drugs. Instead of validating his achievement, you’d disregarded his triumph and replaced it with a profound feeling of defeat. It was quite literally the worst thing you could have done.

“And I know it – that I, um…” Dami sighs, nervously switching his weight back forth. “God damn it. So last night was one of my lowest moments and I really, really fucking wish you weren’t there to see it because it's not representative of who I am or how I feel. What I – baby, those were just thoughts. They were just thoughts, I promise.” His voice is so fond that your heart hurts. “I don’t ever plan on acting on them. I’m not gonna hurt myself. I know I really scared you when I said –”

“Mm mm!” You gesture for him to stop talking while squeezing your eyes shut and turning away. The urge to cry creates pressure in your throat, but the tears won’t come. So it feels like you might choke or be sick. 

“Take a deep breath,” Damiano coaches after falling silent for a moment. You comply, grounding yourself via powerful inhales through your nose, exhaling out of your mouth. It was adjacent to a breathing technique you’d learned in yoga. The feeling mostly passes.

“Okay. I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Of course.”

“I want to talk about it. I will talk about it. I just need…”

“Time to process.” He finishes your thought after observing several seconds of you staring at the ceiling, searching for the right words.

“Yes. All I want in the entire world right now is for you to focus on yourself. Get stable, do things that make you happy. Don’t worry about me.”

“...okay.” Damiano scrunches his nose up while slowly turning away, as if he’s biting back the words he’d like to say.

“Okay.” You pick up your keys and double check that you haven’t forgotten your phone. “So, I’ll see you –”

“I am worried. About you, I am worried.” The silence hangs over your heads like a noose. “You’ve got so much going on internally that I can’t read you. We’ve been together for so long that it’s really unsettling.” You’re at a loss for how to respond. “You used to be so forthright with me. Like absolutely transparent until…until things started going downhill.” Dami shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders raised in a defensive gesture. “And I want to take things at your speed. I want to fucking – to be transparent with you. But you, you…” He sighs heavily and relaxes, turning his gaze towards the window where morning light is seeping in.  

“What?” 

“I know we said we would wait until things weren’t so in flux, which –” he laughs bitterly.. “Which, god damn, I somehow made worse last night.” Damiano’s eyes return to the floor, where the big toe of his right foot is nervously tracing the seams. “I think, for my sanity, we need to look at the R.A.S. again and really talk.” R.A.S. is an abbreviation for what has been dubbed the Relationship Anarchist Smorgosboard – essentially a map of all possible relationship components. Often, polyamorous folks – yourselves included – used it as a tool to precisely define everyone’s desires and expectations. For you and Dami, the topic of non-monogamy actually resulted from discussions about relationship anarchy. So the request isn’t the issue. It's productive and healthy, even considering the metric ton of emotional labor. The strain with which Dami says “for my sanity” however, makes you nervous.

“Yeah, okay, uh…”

“Fuck me,” he groans, rubbing his face harshly. “Maybe I don’t wanna do this now. After yesterday I – you’re not gonna – I just destroyed all fucking progress!”

“I, I…I don’t know how I feel, Damia. But, obviously we don’t have to have this big heavy talk if you’re not ready for it.”

“That's not what I’m saying,” he snaps. Your left hand starts to shake at the agitation in his voice. If he gets upset, it’ll interrupt the routine keeping him intact. What will he use to deescalate then? 

“Have you taken your meds?”

“Y/n, I –” Dami’s tone is venomous and biting, but he stops himself from lashing out mid-sentence. He goes into the bathroom and takes his lithium, hands gripping onto the edge of the counter as he swallows painfully. He takes a second to manage his anger, meaning that exactly what you were trying to avoid is happening. He’s burning through that precious resilience for your sake. Each second that you watch the sharp outline of his clenched jaw, you wonder if this was the moment that Damiano dips into reserves that he needed for later in the day. 

What if he drinks again? Or worse, uses coke? Heroin? What if he goes on a bender then we don’t talk again for three months? What if he OD’s and permanently damages himself? What if he dies? It will be my fault. What if the resilience that could have prevented it is being used up this very second, right before my eyes? What if I’m signing his death sentence with my mere presence? 

“The reason I want to renegotiate isn’t really because I need to renegotiate.” Damiano speaks while still standing in the bathroom. Out of something adjacent to survival instincts, your mind has plunged you into disassociation. He may sound steadfast, but his voice barely cuts through the mental fog.

“It’s more that I want to clarify exactly where the boundaries are. So I know what I can ask because…” Dami pauses to rinse his face. The sound of water landing on the porcelain is eerily distorted from the disassociation. “Sometimes we are so connected. Like last night, not just when we were cuddling, but when you were genuinely pissed at me. I could feel your anger. You let me feel it, but then this morning you’re so far away. I don’t know what planet you’re on and we were never like that before, ever. Even at the very end, you were more present than you sometimes are now. I’m not trying to criticize you, I’m really not, but…” You force your eyes to focus when Dami goes quiet. He’s just brushing his teeth. He’s okay. 

“But I just want you to let me in and I don’t know if I can ask that as a nesting partner. Even when you’re submitting, there's like 15% you’re holding back. And I get that it's a trust issue, but when we were on the bed,” the faucet is running again. The sound is still detached from reality. “With just a vibrator between us, you let me in completely and it was amazing. Not just because of the sex! There’s other moments where we’re intimate emotionally and then this wall just comes up. It's so sudden that I don’t think you’re doing it intentionally. But I don’t know, you tell me.” Silence. Your chest hurts. “Sorry that I’m making you late for work.” Work? The anxiety of obligation yanks from inside your ribcage. Work!

You try to get a grip on reality, but have to compromise for a grip on the countertop. As soon as you begin coming back into your body, the necessity for air is overwhelming. But you can’t breathe and you’re so fucking dizzy that you can’t even focus on sustaining the most basic of bodily functions. So you try to grab the countertop again and miss again.

“Y/n?” He knows you wouldn’t just leave, unannounced. So Dami pauses his morning routine to check if you’re out of ear shot or giving him the silent treatment. Upon seeing your blanched face and restricted breathing, he feels like a dumbass for not considering the obvious third option: panic attack.  

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay, baby.” Damiano throws distinctions between boyfriend and nesting partner to the wind while taking you into his embrace. “You’re gonna be fine, piccola mia. Come here. C’mere, baby.” He hugs you loosely, but the arms around your middle are snug as Dami pulls you onto his lap, perched on the edge of the couch. For a few seconds the dissociation lingers and you don’t have control of your limbs. What follows is much worse. There's deep, intrusive stabbing pains in your chest as you fight for air. 

“You can breathe, baby. You can breathe, your body just forgot how for a second.” His tone is so calm and even, having perfected this skill over the years.

“Can’t.” Your ironclad grip on your purse finally fails and the sound of its contents hitting the floor then scattering is so that loud you shudder. “Can’t!”

“Yes, you can, piccola mia.” Finally, you regain control of your limbs, wrapping your arms around Dami while pressing your face against his shoulder. This isn’t close enough, so you turn chest to chest and wrap your legs around him too. He gives you just enough space to readjust, no communication necessary since Dami predicted this reaction. Panic attacks made you clingy when they made others claustrophobic.

“My little koala bear,” he coos. For a moment, it feels like someone’s lodged a dagger in your lungs and you cry out, intending to say his name. But, for days, you were forced to constantly implement life or death boundaries when doing so is in direct conflict with your very nature. The resulting strain morphed into blinding fear that, in holding power, you’d destroy what you loved most. What you needed as an animal, amongst a world constantly delivering over-stimulating levels of novel information. So the name – or more accurately the plea – that comes out, at 8:31 AM, is his honorific.

“Did you say ‘Daddy?’” He barely misses a beat. You nod, all the color returning to your cheeks as a blush. “Awe, do you need Daddy to help you calm down? Well, I’m right here, topolina.” He runs a hand up your spine and under your hair to firmly grasp the back of your neck. It wasn’t restricting anything, the gesture was about control. Specifically, to indicate that you had none.

“Listen to me.” His tone of voice makes you shiver. It’s just as firm as the grasp of his warm, muscular hand. “No, keep breathing. I didn’t tell you to hold your breath.” You gasp for air, hyperventilating. Damiano tsks, tucking your hair back so he can put his mouth directly to the shell of your ear. “Piccola mia, listen to me.” He dips into a baritone while whispering, breath fluttering against your eardrum. “Feel this?” Dami squeezes the back of your neck. “Mine. I decide how you breathe.” 

Oxygen. It's the first and last thing most humans have control of and he just rips that away, wholesale. Your mind is so relieved that it finally lets you cry, feel. Dami softens, slowly rocking back and forth, the same way you soothe a cholicky baby.

“Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here.” He repeats the phrase in a sing-song voice between counting the pace of your breath out loud. “We’re gonna start with four. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.” 

“Daddy,” you croak, twisting the fabric of his shirt around your fingers. It's an ugly sound, revealing just how desperate you feel. Desperate to do right by him. Desperate to keep him sober, even though you know that, ultimately, it was out of your control. But it couldn’t be out of control because you couldn’t lose him again now that you’d remembered how much you needed him. Now that you stopped subsisting on scraps in the form of memories. During the split, it had been heartbreaking to recall the dysfunctionality. Even more heartbreaking, however, were reminders of a joy more potent than you’d ever felt in your adult life.   

“Daddy, I…” need you. I’m ready to admit that you are an essential piece to the ever changing puzzle that is my life. But you can’t get the words out before the urge to sob takes over, so end up omitting a wounded whine, like when you trip over an excited dog and accidentally step on its tail.

“Oh, piccolo mia,” he laments. Apparently the noise was just as painful to hear as it was to make. You tighten your legs around Dami’s hips, knowing full well it's probably too much. He throws caution to the wind and pulls up the back of your blouse, untucking it from your pants. His hand is clammy from nerves when it touches your back.

“I’m right here. Daddy is right here, giving you all his attention. And the only thing you need to do is breathe with me.” With the movement of Dami’s hand on your skin, you begin falling into his rhythm. There's no penalty when you choke up or make a mistake. Damiano rubs circles on your back at the exact same pace with which he counts. You’re grateful that he knows not to set it on your butt or flank today. Once you’re calmer, he moves up to six counts, then eight. 

“I love you.” It’s the first thing you say when the eight counts feel manageable. “I – I need you.”

“You need me?” Dami is so pleased that his voice sounds like a warm blanket. He readjusts the position so your eyes can meet. Realizing this moment has to end, you begin clawing your way to the surface. The further you are out of subspace, the less his leaving will hurt. Damiano’s face visibly falls.

“There. You just did it. You were totally present with me then you put a wall up.”

“Don’t let go of my neck!” The words are so rushed they’re barely discernible.

“Topolina, I will never discipline you like that.” Your bottom lip trembles, but you keep your eyes on him because it's grounding. “I will never ever be callous with my sweetest Little Girl.” His words and the earnestness which accompanies them unlock a vault in your mind. It’s so well concealed that you’d hidden it from yourself, and for good reason, apparently. Every notable memory of submission to Dami comes rushing back, all at once. The hand on your neck shifts, almost negligible.

“Not ready!”

“And I’m not letting go,” he responds in his softest voice, overflowing with affection. “I’m just kissing your forehead, silly goose.” Damiano uses his grip to pull you a couple centimeters closer and tilt your head down. “Mwah! Mwah, mwah. See?” He makes theatrical noises as his lips meet your skin. It's an effort to make this stressful moment lighthearted, but your hands continue clenching the fabric of his t-shirt. When Dami moves to kiss your cheeks, he ends up wiping a couple stray tears away. You hadn’t felt them fall.

“Undo your fists. I’m not going anywhere.” Uncurling your hands takes some effort. You splay them across Damiano’s back to feel his heartbeat. Again, you’re stuck between states: being Little and functional adulthood. Correction: calling what you could reasonably achieve today “functional” was probably too generous.

“I can see you fighting it so hard, topolina. You don’t have to. I’m right here.” He thinks you’re battling subspace because of all the times you’d coped with sub-drop alone during the breakup. It’s certainly a factor, but more worrying is the fact that your brain is sabotaging both your mornings. It didn’t feel like a safe time to slip into submission. 

“I – work! Gotta, gotta…” You couldn’t afford to become non-verbal. 

“No.” Both his tone and expression were stern. “What you’re going to do is allow yourself to be 100% present with me for a few more minutes. Non-negotiable.”

“I can breathe though.”

“You’re so afraid you’re trembling,” he deadpans. Even with faltering interoception, you can sense that it’s true.

“Why’d my brain just, just…”

“It's adrenaline.” What you’d intended to ask is why in the fresh hell did my brain launch me into headspace. Damiano wraps an arm around your lower back and pulls you flush against his body, so close your noses are touching. “I need you to feel how steady I am.” For a second, the shaking gets worse as your emotions intensify, but then it lessens. With your entire being, you wanted to believe that Dami was steady, that today’s events couldn’t compromise his sobriety. His gaze is so intense that you’re both drawn in and fighting the urge to look away.

“I am okay. You are okay. Our relationship is okay. And you can get back to reality without putting five football fields of space between us. That’s what I’ve been doing a piss poor job of communicating all morning.” Embarrassed for reacting so drastically, you nod, then try to avert your eyes. Damiano doesn’t allow that. He grabs your chin and uses it to turn your face back in his direction. For a second, the urge to fawn almost takes over completely. 

“Now there she is,” he coos. “There’s my perfect Little Girl.” Your cunt throbs so you collapse forward with a dramatic groan. 

“Why you gotta say the sexiest shit when I’m trying to pull myself together?!” Damiano breaks character and laughs right in your ear, so loud that it organically brings you to the surface.

“Okay, okay. Scene over?”

“Mhm.” He begins taking his hand away which earns an agonized whine. Dami freezes.

“Scene not over?”

“No, it’s just…sudden.” You sit up which turns out to be a horrible idea because your gaze falls to Dami’s lips. Your logical mind knows not to kiss him right now. But your submissive side wants to give him everything you have and more, especially since a hand on the back of your neck is exactly the gesture he’d use to pull you in for a makeout. So you stare at his lips again before consciously tearing your eyes away.

  “This is doing wonders for my ego, watching you fight the urge to kiss me.” That earns him an eye roll. “Oh, the sass is back! So we’re feeling better then.”

“Yeah.” You look at the floor and this time he doesn’t stop you.

“Okay, I’m actually gonna take my hand away.” You brace for it, but the air is still cold and bitter against your neck. Plus, what feels like the weight of the world resumes its resting place on your shoulders. Damiano moves his hand up a few inches, onto the back of your head instead of taking it away from the area entirely. He watches for subdrop, eyes pained after seeing how crestfallen you are. Needing a respite from the intensity of this unexpected moment, you decide to let work know that you’re going to be late. The tears in your voice are recent enough to pull off a very convincing performance about your sick grandfather being in the hospital with a mystery illness.

The veteran secretary who answers the phone finds your project manager right away. She offers to give you the whole morning off, visibly piquing Dami’s interest. Based on his expression, he expects you to take it, and if not for coinciding with his treatment schedule, you would. Instead, you promise to be there within an hour.

“You didn’t want the morning off?”

“I think that we’ll both do better keeping our schedules today.” He considers this for a moment then accepts it. Dami sets both palms on your mid-thigh to indicate that this was now an adult interaction between equals.

“We need to have a tough conversation or two…or five.” He tries to make you smile, but your stomach flips instead. “Obviously not right this moment, but we both need to find space in the next couple days. It’s time.”

“You’re right. I know it, I’m just, well, scared, as per usual.”

“Yeah, me too.” You look up in surprise. Damiano was the most courageous person you knew. He was the one to call it, even though it was obvious to both of you that avoiding a discussion for any longer would be counterproductive.

“Scared about what?” He looks at you wide-eyed and sputters while gesturing to the door. “Damia, I told you not to promise me perfection because I knew it wasn’t realistic. My expectation is that you try your absolute best to stay sober and when relapse happens, you fight like hell. And I don’t want to impede your ability to do that by making you spend all your inner resources on me.” Anxiety concealed as exasperation creeps into your voice. “Which is why I didn’t take the morning off. Because I didn’t want to interrupt your routine, when that routine helps you be sober. I didn’t want to create a demand for emotional labor, when –”

“What, by having emotions?” he interrupts sharply. 

“I – yeah. You’re used to having these peaceful quiet mornings and I just…”

“Existed? Experienced things? Was a human being with needs?” 

“Yes, but I – I mean, yeah because I – You, you’re still at risk of like, like…It's more important! Your sobriety is more important.”

“Than your emotions?” He narrows his eyes as if that's an unhinged beleif.

“Yes! It's more important than my emotions. It's more important than me. It's more important than everything!” 

“No!”

“Yes!” You push his hands away and stand up, pacing to the other side of the living room.

“I am the only one that can prioritize my sobriety above all else, and I do! Despite last night, I fucking do! My sobriety can’t be your priority.”

“Why?” you snap and whip around, shooting daggers with your eyes.

“Because it's my life.”

“Ditto. I can prioritize whatever I want.”

“You have to prioritize yourself. You can’t live for somebody else!”

“Prioritizing your sobriety is living for myself because I would never be okay if you died from an overdose and you fucking know that. So I’m not sure why we’re fighting about this.”

“Because only I can keep myself sober,” he implores. 

“I fucking know that!!” you screech through gritted teeth. It's a fact that haunts all my waking hours and several of my slumbering ones. “I don’t live in some fairytale land where I control your decisions. Nor do I want to, whatsoever. But I can make your sobriety easier, so I’m damn well going, too. Today of all days!”

“It's not your responsibility!” He stands up and gestures in frustration.

“Did I say it was!?” Doubt starts to creep in as to why Damiano is hellbent on whatever point he’s making.

“You’re –”

“Am I annoying you when I try to help with your sobriety? Is that what it is?” 

“Wha – no. No.” His tone changes completely, all the wind gone from his sails.

“Fuck,” you sigh and bite the inside of your lip. “Sorry, I just did that thing where I get insecure and you have to be nice to me instead of having your feelings.”

“That’s not what just happened.”

“Seems…” You’re about to say that it seems like Damiano has to bottle up his feelings instead of getting to resolve them. And that it felt like he started to avoid fights with you pre-breakup, since you’d get all pathetic like this. Dami was so empathetic and didn’t want to deal with your occasional bouts of middle school level self-confidence, which became more numerous as things fell apart. It was the only bit of jealousy, in terms of his other partners, that had staying power: confidence. Glowing, radiant, unshakable, sexy confidence. The opposite of your insecurity, which was so powerful that it could totally warp your sense of reality, as it probably was now.

“There! That! Tell me, just fucking tell me.” Damiano’s pointing at you, so you look down at yourself, startled. “It started with you hiding your anger from me, but it's become this. Like you won’t take a single step without considering how it might impact my sobriety. You edit out everything that could possibly trigger...I don’t even know what! Like, I’ve started playing a guessing game where I try to think of anything you could plausibly say in a situation that would jeopardize my sobriety. And besides that last night, there was never anything I couldn’t handle.”

“I…” your brain feels like sludge. “A second ago was just classic insecurity, but generally…yeah. Yeah, I’ve been walking on eggshells a lot, if I’m honest.” Dami sighs in relief and approaches.

“You hold me down. You keep me sane. Not just sunshine you, but scatterbrained, insecure, anxious you. Keeps-an-extra-pair-of-pants-in-her-car-since-she-always-spills-her-coffee-driving you. Veterinarian in a past life, too competitive for board game nights, can’t stick to the grocery list, maker of near disaster via spontaneous hugs in the kitchen at the least opportune moment you. Scowls at men, but smiles at every child, and they always smile back. Picks the restaurant, but can’t pick what to order, then insists on tipping too much at bad service. All music is dancing music, borderline delusional optimist, empathy for the socially invisible, never finishes a book before starting another because she hates endings. Believes in love instead of god because she can find something to love in everyone she meets. Everyone has beauty and purpose and fascinating complexity.”

“Dami…”

“Calls me out on my bullshit when all the others are too intimidated. Remembers who I am when I forget. Understands my art when the public doesn’t, but believes that anyone can be an artist. Believes that the world is full of magic, in the form of human possible connection.” Damiano backs you against a wall, bodies barely brushing. “I could keep going,” he whispers. “You don’t have to try. Just be.”

“But I want to be sure that I’m not jeopardizing your sobriety.”

“On the off chance that moment ever comes, I will tell you. I won’t let you compromise my sobriety.” Some of that weight lifts. “The way things were when we broke up, they’re never going to be that way again. I am prioritizing my sobriety and I've got a small army of physicians helping me. You don’t need to prioritize my sobriety anymore.” He sets a hand on your ribcage, still speaking in a whisper. The moment is extremely intimate.  “It's taken care of, my love. It's time for you to be taken care of. And I know we’re gonna have this same conversation again and that's okay.” 

You loosely wrap your arms around Dami, to keep him close and extend the moment. Just based on your body language, he can tell that you’ve finally internalized what he’s been trying to say.

“I’ve been anxious about coming home and you’re gone.”

“Not going to happen. No surprises, no disappearing acts.”

“Okay.” You cast your eyes anywhere by his face. Damiano takes your jaw in his hand, coaxing you to look at him, but not demanding it as he did minutes ago. You take a couple seconds to corral your emotions first, since you can’t gauge if your reaction is gonna be more tears, hyperventilating, smiles, giddiness, or feeling lovesick. He sees this effort and presses your body into the wall using his own.

“Let me in,” he demands. You stop intentionally directing your features into an expression and wait for thoughts to come up organically. Except they don’t, so you try to recall how this worked when transparency was your first instinct with Damiano. Unfortunately, the only thing discernable is your sense of smell informing you that Dami is delicious. You’d braced for the stench of booze coming from his pores this morning, but it's not because he barely drank. So he still smells like home, plus a tiny bit sweaty from getting too hot in his sleep. That was only perceptible up close though. His skin would be salty if you licked it. You can also tell that he brushed his teeth while you were getting dressed, but that should be obvious. He wouldn’t have gotten in your space like this otherwise. 

So the urge to kiss him returns with a vengeance. You attempt to see around the obstacle to identify something of your innermost thoughts. What do I feel? How do I feel? Horny, obviously, which wasn’t exactly news. More like your resting state. It’s as if your mind is a shaken snow globe. So you’re squinting your eyes to see the miniature winter wonderland below. But all you can perceive is the mental permafrost that is wanting to ride Damiano until you collapse and this fucking blizzard obscuring your vision. 

“Y/n –”

“I genuinely can’t figure out what I’m thinking. I’m trying, I swear.” 

“Can I take a guess?” he smiles. “You’re horny.” After the initial embarrassment, you get flustered, consider hiding it, decide not to, and end up aroused. Damiano’s gaze devouring your blush certainly inspires confidence, as well.

“Actually it was way more specific than that, but sure.” You can see the progression of Dami’s emotions: aroused, realizing your transparency, excitement, even more aroused. 

“Why do you torture me?” He boxes you in with his arms and uses his pelvis to keep you pinned against the wall. When his cock twitches you smirk and raise an eyebrow, but a more serious answer crosses your mind. “Tell me, tell me,” Damiano chants.

“I don’t want to jerk you around, with the physicality stuff. Because on a couple days it’s been…I wake up feeling really steady and so do you. Then I come home and you’re reading a book on the couch and you’ve done all the laundry and I just want to fucking…slip my panties off and grind on the crotch of your jeans while we makeout until I’m sore. And then maybe you – anyways, then some –

“No, no. Finish that thought first.”.

“Your tongue can be really, really gentle,” you admit, feeling a tiny bit perverse. “Soft, soothing, so when I’m sore it's – it's, um, nice.”

“What’s my tongue doing?” He leans down and speaks directly into your ear again.

“You go down on me.” Your voice starts to climb in pitch from the anticipation.

“Right there on the couch?”

“Mhm.”

“We don’t even make it to the bedroom?”

“I, um – It’s just in my head.”

“But just in your head, we don’t make it off the couch.” His lips barely brush your neck. Was it an accident? 

“No.”

“Why? Cause you’re too desperate?”

“Hng, I –” He boldly nips at the base of your neck.

“This okay?” he murmurs. As Dami speaks, his breath hits the spot of saliva his mouth left on your skin and you’re so keyed up that it evokes a full body shiver.

“Mhm!”

“So are you desperate because you need to cum? Or desperate because you got carried humping me since you were too horny to stop yourself?” Somehow, one of the arms that had been around Dami’s waist is now clutching his shoulders as he licks your neck. You don’t remember it happening.

“What…was I just talking, um –” Thankfully, Dami raises face to look at you which makes thinking easier.

“Anyways, then some.”

“Huh?”

“That's how your next thought started: ‘anyways, then some.’”

“Oh, um…then, I don’t know, maybe I have a bad anxiety day or I talk to my therapist or something reminds me of a painful memory and I don’t want sexual touch.”

“But do you always want physical touch of some kind, like cuddling?”

“Well, I came climbing into bed with you last night, didn’t I?” He smiles wide and looks over the couch for a moment.

“Yeah, that's true…and very good to know. If all days are good physical touch days, you are about to get very sick of me.” Now you’re both smiling like fools and the gravitational pull of chemistry has your noses nearly brushing while Dami slips an arm between the wall and the small of your back. It occurs to you that this is the same move he made in the shower, when encouraging you to grind against his leg.

“I just don’t want you to feel rejected or misled if you touch me in a certain way and I’m not into it, even though I was yesterday. Because it's so momentous since we were broken up for a while.”

“Well, you can just tell me that and I’ll understand.” You nod, but the fact that it isn’t so simple occurs to you. Damiano sees it and raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay, I forgot how fucking inconvenient this mind reading thing is but –” he bursts into joyful laughter, head thrown back. You rest your other arm on Dami’s shoulder as well. In return, he pulls you body to body, resting his other hand on the top of your ass with a watchful expression. It’s exactly the point you were making.

“Obviously, I wasn’t feeling like jumping your bones today. The way you placed your hands over there,” you nod towards the couch, “I really appreciated, because it was exactly the right thing. Like it was so conscientious and considerate and nurturing,” even saying the word made your pussy throb, “that I’m pretty sure it turned me on. So fuck if I know how this works!” Again, Dami is filled with boisterous laughter that's infectious. As you giggle along, you wonder if he was right about just letting your organic connection do its thing. “My brain was like ‘Wow. He’s so nuanced about doing this in exactly the way I need. He’s so respectful about the fact that this is totally non-sexual for me that it's making me wet. Oh, wait.’”

“Okay. So sex is never a –”

“Sexual contact,” you clarify. “I still don’t feel ready for proper love making, I’m sorry.” Dami’s face is the most offended it's been all morning.

“Sorry? What do you mean ‘sorry?’” 

“I know, I know,” you brush him off with an eye roll. 

“For fucks sake, don’t apologize. Why would –”

“Stop, you’re so dramatic!” You jostle Damiano while speaking and he almost delivers a retort before changing course in an effort to make you laugh. Effusive, he gasps and brings a hand to his sternum in scandal.

“Who, me? Dramatic?? Never!” You’re filled with a yearning that originates in your mind, but starts in your cunt. This time you don’t fight it off as it travels upwards to envelope you. “I would –”

“Kiss me,” you interrupt, so giddy that you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet. Caught off guard, Dami stops speaking. “Kiss me, kiss mmm –”

Notes: It's a good one! Thank you for waiting for this update and for reading this fic. I hope the holiday season is at least bearable for y'all. And if its not, me and my Masterlist are here for you!

-XOXO Eden

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[wonderlandishell]

The middle of adventure, such a perfect place to stop

Victoria De Angelis/Ethan Torchio

Friends with Benefits / Friends to Lovers / Genderqueer Character / Coming Out / Angst / Pegging / Blood Kink

“You two should just fuck each other. Easier that way,” Thomas giggles. When three blank stares pin him down, he holds his hands up. “What! That’s the truth, that would get rid of much of the problems, and you already know you’re compatible. I’m not telling you to actually do it!” “Don’t give them stupid ideas,” Damiano finishes his coffee with an air of finality and stands from the table.

Read on ao3

[ykaaaras]

The Preacher: Chapter 1

Pairing: DAMIANO DAVID x fictional female insert

Chapter summary: After badly incident, Damiano helps Medusa to remember what had happened.

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, priest Damiano David, supernatural, mention of religion, mention of possession, a little bit of fluff, anxiety, fear, hospital

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: mention of suicide, mention of homicide

Medusa woke up in pain. Her legs felt numb and her half-open eyes were flickering painful bright light flashes. She couldn’t remember what had happened. Medusa tried to move. The pain just got even more intense and Medusa decided to stay in her position and wait till someone found her. On the other hand, she knew that she must get up because otherwise, she could be found by someone she wouldn’t expect to be found by. She couldn’t recall why she was laying here. Did someone try to kill her? Or maybe she tried to kill herself? Medusa released a quiet sigh full of pain. It was hard to even open her eyes fully. However, she had to find out where she was laying.

When she opened her eyes, the view didn’t focus immediately. But soon she realized that she was laying on cement paving. Somewhere above her head prevailed big noise. Far away on the horizon, she could see the rows of apartment buildings. Also, Medusa comprehended that she layed near water. Because of her perception of where she was Medusa felt cold and she started to shiver. She still couldn’t move her legs. She wanted to shout, but it would probably be hopeless and even impossible. Her mouth was locked. Someone should take her from here.

Finally, Medusa slowly and sorrowfully began to roll on her back. When she succeeded, above her she didn’t see the sky, but the hood of steal, which covered whole her eyesight. Medusa snored another sigh. What if her bones are broken, was the first thought after she got a little bit conscious. The pain was unbearable for real. She tried to kill herself, she remembered finally, and she got too scared. She didn’t succeed? Or maybe she was in hell? Suddenly she heard steps approaching, the sound of shoes clapping on the paving, while they were getting closer to her. Medusa got scared and closed her eyes, she wanted to let whatever that was think that she was dead. Her wish to be found suddenly disappeared. She was worrying that it wasn't the help that was coming. To be honest, she understood that she was rather dead.

The footsteps approached even more. Medusa put all the strength into herself and her body so she wouldn’t move, pant or breath even though it was very hard. The sleeve of her yellow hoodie was bloody and she couldn’t pay attention anywhere else. Blood, that means something was broken. But it would be stupid to hope that she’s whole, she fell from the bridge it was weird that she was alive in general. Someone stood beside her. Medusa got deadly scared. She felt that there were three men and a girl. Medusa tried to convince herself that she never met any of them, but deep inside she felt like she knew them from somewhere. They observed Medusa for some time. Then the girl leaned in front of Medusa, but she didn’t squat, just stood.

“You think she’s alive?” asked her. 

It prevailed a little, short silence among them. They were watching every shudder of Medusa, she wondered how obvious that she was alive.

“I don’t know. Check it,” answered one of the men.

“Isn’t it obvious, can’t you see that she’s breathing?” the man who said it seemed quite perspicacious, or Medusa just couldn’t hide well enough. “Check her pulse, Victoria.”

Victoria squatted down and put two of her fingers on Medusa’s neck near her jawline. Feeling cold Victoria’s fingers Medusa flinched unwillingly. She felt how Victoria smiles.

“Alive,” informed and stood up.

Victoria — thought Medusa — name so heard and voice very not of the stranger. Who was she? And what they intended to do to Medusa? Now there’s no point in pretending. She loudly moaned with fear and pain. Couldn't speak. When she tried to say something, she just felt that she gargle with blood. She hardly opened her eyes again and began to look around. At first, she was scared to turn her eyes to strangers. But when she dared, her eyes expanded even though it was painful. She saw them somewhere for real. But where the fuck? There was a man with long, black hair, the other was tall and blond, Victoria, and then it seems there was... a priest? He wore a white collar that is worn by priests and he had a little pendant with a cross on his neck. Medusa frowned as much as her strength let. He seemed probably the most seen of all of them. And his smile with dimples on the cheeks looked intimate. Medusa didn’t get why he was smiling, she didn’t understand what they were talking about in general. She was in a strange trance, the only thing that she still cared about was what they are going to do to her. Suddenly, that priest came near her and squatted just like Victoria did before. He attentively look at her face, then to her eyes and Medusa shut them, she felt a little bit uncomfortable.

“You don’t remember me?” he asked gently. Medusa shook her head a little bit. The priest sighed. “She needs to be taken to the hospital,” he said to others. “Call the ambulance.”

Medusa could hear a phone signal somewhere, someone was talking about an injured girl. The longer Medusa layed the colder she got and the pain was jolting even harder, so she started to shiver more and more than before. She felt how dark haired man saw that she was cold and that she’s shaking uncontrollably. He came and took off his jacket. He lifted Medusa a little, it hurt so bad.

“Shhh…” he comforted her and wrapped her in his jacket. Medusa could feel the warmth and a pleasurable scent. Eventually, her teeth calmed down chattering. She heard the sirens.

While she was ferried into the ambulance car, she couldn’t stop moaning, and when she was moving her pain got dozen times bigger. But finally, she was laid down and bright and almost painful lights started to flash into her eyes.

“I’m going with her,” said someone of the four. “Ethan, you can take my car.”

A few minutes passed and the priest came to the car. He sat near a paramedic in front of Medusa’s bunk. Medusa got surprised. Why him? She was wearing an oxygen mask on her face which helped her breathe. Medusa was so scared, but she felt that he was looking at her and she could not turn her gaze to him. His eyes were slightly brown and now he looked gentle and good willing. If Medusa ever saw him, she remembers only dark and predatory ones, which probably weren’t inherent for a priest. Something was wrong. Something was so weird.

He leaned towards her. Medusa shivered with fear. She turned her head to the other side so she would avoid eye contact.

“Don’t be scared,” whispered him. “No one is going to hurt you anymore.”

Hurt? Medusa thought that she tried to kill herself. If someone did hurt her, then who? Medusa hadn’t turned her eyes on him yet. Even though she wanted to ask him what he was talking about, she didn’t dare, and to be honest she wasn’t even able, even if her body was about to relax bit by bit, her tongue was still locked. Everything she could do was shake her head and that’s what she did, started to gently shake her head. She was sure that he was smiling.

“Everything is fine,” said him leaning back. “Now you’re safe.”

Medusa moaned quietly, his voice so calming and for a moment she thought she was safe for real. Lights became brighter and Medusa hardly shut her eyes. She still tasted the blood in her mouth. They injected her with some kind of medicine, and probably Medusa was creating the danger herself, but she was afraid that she was poisoned, but how the fuck she could not trust the priest? It got hard to breathe under that mask and she couldn’t understand why... Shouldn’t it help to breathe instead? Medusa began to squirm, she wanted to jump out of the car, ran into the street, and she wanted to kill herself again, but this time she wanted to succeed. When the paramedic noticed her squirming, he tied her hands tighter to her bunk. She felt a prick in her side.

~~~

She couldn’t believe it. She woke up in the hospital, and the first thing she saw was the dropper on the side, above her head. The first thing she heard was noise in the hallway. The first thing she realized was that she was not alone in the ward. Medusa turned her heavy head. The four people who were with her under, probably, a bridge, were here. Victoria has worn a white robe, the priest was leaning on the windowsill, the tall one sat on a chair in front of the bed, and a man with long hair was also with a robe and standing near Victoria. Medusa couldn’t understand why they were there and what they want from her. Maybe she had made some kind of crime? When Victoria noticed that Medusa woke up, she came closer.

“Medusa,” her voice tone was gentle and friendly but also strict. “Can you speak?”

Medusa wanted to shake her head saying no, but then she realized that maybe she can… A little bit.

“I… I…” she took a deep breath. “Don’t… Know…”

“Hmm…” Victoria chuckled quietly. “Could you answer a few questions?”

How could she answer any question if she doesn’t remember anything? Everything she saw in front of her eyes was the top of that bridge and later that priest in the ambulance car where was flashing bright lights. Medusa turned her eyes to him. He leaned his head against the window and looked directly into her face, when their gazes met he smiled a little bit, and friendly and softly blinked with one of his eyes. Medusa felt herself blushing. She was curious if Victoria noticed it. It’d be very awkward.

Medusa nodded. Victoria smiled again.

“Well, first of all, do you remember what happened? Do you remember who are we?”

Medusa shook her head.

“No,” said as clearly as she could. It was too scary what can come back to the head.

“And maybe if you think a little?” lifted her eyebrow Victoria, but seeing how Medusa was ‘thinking’, she realized that the girl’s brain was probably deeply damaged. “It’s okay,” Victoria comforted her. “You’ll remember it eventually.”

Medusa sighed hard in disagreement.

“...Or we can introduce ourselves… Once again. Would it be acceptable for you?” asked Victoria.

Medusa squirmed in her bed. If she’d remember, maybe she’ll feel any better, maybe the headache she felt because of trying to recall anything, would quiet down.

“Okay,” mumbled she. “I… Think it’d be better.

Victoria nodded. She reviews all people now in the ward and starts to name them.

“I am Victoria de Angelis, a psychiatrist,” she showed to the man near her. “This is therapist Ethan Torchio, the guy sitting next to you is medicine student Thomas Raggi, and there,” she waved her finger to the priest. “A priest and exorcist Damiano David. We work with any kind of people who in any way, psychically, emotionally, or physically are or were experienced possession. Does it say something to you?”

Medusa’s temples got tense. It was hard to digest this much information. However, her head started to flash flashbacks. The bridge she fell from… Could it be related to exorcism? Now she realized that whatever reason she felt from that fucking bridge was, it wasn’t suicide. Something frightened her. Medusa shut her eyes, then opened them again. Suddenly, she remembered the pain right before the fall. The pain was tearing. Someone was screaming very loudly, probably, herself. And she remembered words, a lot of words, like prayers. Then she ran away from the building she was in before and fell, that was everything she remembered for now. Did that… Damiano was with her? Or maybe they all? Perhaps her memories were lying to her. Now she couldn’t know if she can trust even her own head. Medusa looked at Victoria, can she trust her? She couldn’t recall what these people were even if they introduced themselves to her. They could lie to her, they could hurt her if they wanted. Maybe they were possessed themselves. Although Medusa was thinking such things, she realized that she didn’t answer Victoria’s question.

“I don’t know,” when she speaks it gets hard to breathe and she could still taste the blood in her mouth. “Probably not.”

Victoria sighed quietly.

“I think she needs special treatment,” said her to Ethan and he nodded.

Hearing this Medusa got confused and liven up a bit, she squirmed heavily.

“What’s the special treatment?” she asked even though it was too hard to do it.

Victoria and Ethan both turned to Medusa.

“Nothing scary, darling,” Victoria consoled her. “It’s just that we are gonna meet you more often from now on, more often than ever, more often than we did the last time, to ensure you a fledged safety.”

“Where I am?” Medusa suddenly felt the itch to know where she was. She got the fact that she was at the hospital, but didn’t think about which till now. She remembered that Victoria introduced herself as a psychiatrist, not like the ordinary doctor.

“‘Casa di Cura Samadi’ psychiatry hospital of Rome,” Victoria’s voice was so casual that Medusa actually calmed down a little, even though she found out that she was at the psych ward.

Then Medusa got another thought if she was here and can’t remember anything, she still perceived that she had a family. Mom, dad, and maybe even a sister. They weren’t here. Remembering them was way easier, even though it seemed that they are lights years away from her, hiding somewhere in the corners of her brain. She wanted to know where they are now and how long she didn’t see them.

“Where are my parents?” this question made her voice shudder because she understood that she was afraid of knowing the truth. She wanted to come back to normal life even if now she was only imagining that she has one.

She saw how all four looked at each other. Then all of their glances stick to Damiano as if he should explain everything to her.

“Your parents…” began saying him. “Are high up above us.”

“Damiano,” said Victoria a little bit angrily. “Just say it so she’d understand.”

Damiano rolled his eyes. As a priest he was quite weird…

“They’re dead, Medusa. I’m sorry.”

Medusa frowned. If she was in a different situation, a different position, it would be really sorrowful to hear that, but now it was hard to grasp. She even didn’t wanna ask what had happened to them. She felt like the answer wouldn’t cheer her up. Her hands started to itch so she frightened and squeezed her fists. What if she has done something to her parents herself, indeed? Her eyes fearfully stuck to Damiano. It was he who told her that her parents are dead. It means he knows more. But even though the fear to hear something she wouldn’t like to hear was strong, however, she must know. It was her right.

“But… But… What happened?” she asked. “In… In general?” Because of the blood taste in her mouth, she felt nauseous.

It was a short silence in the ward. All eyes stuck to Damiano again. He probably knew what happened the best. He probably was there when it happened.

Damiano switched position, he sat on the windowsill.

“Should we tell her?” asked his colleagues.

At first, they just shrugged, then nodded. Damiano sighed, he looked Medusa in the eyes. Medusa was looking at him. Her eyes were wet.

“You were possessed,” he explained. “You and your friends arranged the show about the four horsemen of the apocalypse from biblical legend, you thought you were the Death,” he scratched the top of his head as if he knew that what he was about to say will be the most unpleasant part. “You killed your parents and from three of your friends, the only one left — your sister. She’s with us, we have her. Your friends were never possessed, all the time while you thought you were real Death, they were just playing… When the exorcism was performed on you, you succeed to run away from the building, but not for long, when you felt that the demon isn’t in you anymore, you felt empty and jumped off the bridge. That’s all, now you’re here,” he got silent and tilted his head so he could see Medusa’s reaction.

Medusa’s eyes were wide open, she sat just like she was frozen. Her eyes were even wetter, it looked like she was about to cry.

“It’s safe here,” added Damiano comforting. “There’s nothing in you anymore.”

“But…” stuttered Medusa. “I?... Did… Kill them.”

Damiano nodded.

“How?” asked Medusa again.

“It will be better if you wouldn’t know, sweetheart. I’ve told you a lot, it’s enough stress for this time.”

Victoria, Ethan, and Thomas who were listening, now moved a little bit. The nurse sneaked into the ward and turned the light on. It was getting dark outside. So many things started to spin in Medusa’s head. She has a sister but can’t remember even her name.

‘Sweetheart…’ Medusa thought. What kind of relationship she had with Damiano, besides that he was a priest? She felt him a quite warm feeling and attachment, even though she understood that only now. The feeling came unexpectedly, something in Damiano’s movements reminded her of that, but he just changed his legs' position from one to another and crossed his arms on his chest.

Medusa felt tired. Exhausted. She just woke up but her body wasn’t relaxed. But she was afraid to fall asleep, afraid because they could come back. Medusa was used to seeing chimeras in the city between corners of the churches and funny spirits from various epochs, she even used to give them names if they wouldn’t have them already. However, now everything didn’t seem so fun. Now she was scared of them. Damiano, psychiatrist Victoria, and her colleagues will leave now and she’ll be left alone with her horrors again. She didn’t wanna that Damiano leave.

“Well, I think it’s time for us to go,” said Victoria. “You, Medusa, should rest and sleep for real. In case of emergency, the nurse is waking in the hallway.”

Medusa shook her head. Victoria stopped surprised, but didn’t say anything. Damiano also stood as if he was thinking if he should leave or maybe stay. He really saw that Medusa wanted that he’d stay here with her. Finally, he probably decided to leave with others, but he was stopped by the voice of Medusa.

“Damiano,” she said quietly. “Could you stay?”

Damiano smiled gently.

“Well, maybe I can. For tonight,” answered him watching how Medusa calms down a bit and her worrying facial expression turned into relaxed, and she squint a little bit as if she’d want to sleep indeed. From her mouth escapes an unwilling yawn.

When they left, Damiano came near the bed and leaned onto the handhold. His sleeves were rolled up and Medusa could see his tattoos.

“So you wanna say something to me?” asked him still smiling.

Medusa lowered her eyes. She wanted to know everything and how it happened. But she didn’t know how she should ask him to tell her this. She wanted that Damiano would be here when she gets sleepy. She felt like he was the only of those people whom she can trust. Is it because he was a priest? Medusa was never this religious to crave the closeness of a priest. she even was afraid of the church, it's teaching, and God. But this man was different, he did something to her that made her want that he wouldn’t ever leave.

Damiano came around the bed and sat near Medusa. He knew exactly what she wanted to know and he knew every single answer, to what she cared about. But he didn’t intend to say anything anyway unless she ask it herself. Damiano guessed that many of those things can frighten her. He was interested can she still see the creatures and spirits that she saw before the exorcism. He squinted and ran his eyes around the corners of the ward.

“Are we alone?” inquired him smiling cunningly and seeing how Medusa die away a little. She didn’t understand what he has in mind, so she nodded cowardly.

“Why?” her iris were moving while she was looking at Damiano, they were full of fear and anxiety. “Someone else… Has to be here?” when she talked her voice was shivering, she didn’t want that someone would interfere between her and Damiano.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I think there’s nobody here,” her heart was jumping, she felt like something should appear here or that she has to see something. Damiano noticed it and comforted her.

“It’s okay, Dussy, if you don’t see anything in the ward, it means there’s nothing here.”

His words calmed Medusa down. She released a silent sigh full of relief. Her gaze caught Damiano’s hand placed near her hip. She wanted to take it and squeeze it, so she lifted her palm slightly, hoping that Damiano will notice what she wants. She saw a mischievous smirk on his face when he took her palm himself. What a unique priest he was, the thought was flying through Medusa’s brain. When they were sitting in silence for a while, finally Medusa found enough courage in herself to ask:

“What happened to me?”

Damiano lifted his eyebrow.

“I thought I’ve told you what happened to you already.”

Medusa shook her head in disagreement. That what he said was too little for her to understand what happened in very truth. Damiano sighed but not pitiful more like with a little surprise. He considered what he should say.

“You don’t remember what life you lived before jumping off the bridge? Not even a little bit?”

“No,” silently admitted Medusa. “Just I somewhat remember you.”

Damiano’s eyes got wide open for a second.

“What do you remember about me?” asked him with pure curiosity in his voice.

Medusa shrugged. She recalled his aura, maybe a scent or a voice, just like others but way stronger. She remembered… Affection. Dependence. She couldn’t understand it herself.

“Just…”

Damiano chuckled quietly, so Medusa did the same. Her laugh cheered Damiano up and now to be honest he didn’t wanna tell her anything so he wouldn’t ruin her now little bit improved mood. Saw how Medusa slightly smiles, take a breath and lower her eyes. Then she got upset and stuck pleading glance to Damiano again.

“But why?... Did I jump off the bridge?”

Before everything, Medusa used to go to school. It should have been her last year, but on her eighteen birthday, she celebrated with a knife in her hand, against her parents’ and friends’ throats. Now Medusa was a little worried that she could go to jail, she was an adult when she did that after all. But the scariest was the fact that she really did that herself, it seemed even stupidly unreal, incomprehensible and so so sick. When she thought about it her hand starts to shake, and the nausea of the terror begins to pulse in her stomach. Even though she couldn’t perceive it yet, she knew that a few hours will pass and she will start to miss her parents and friends. She knew that she’ll be filled with self-loathing and she’ll start to regret she didn’t die while jumping off the bridge. Which, to be honest, was really very weird. How?

Damiano thought a little, it wasn’t easy to find words that could explain to a girl why she killed so many people.

“You’ve read a book. About four horsemen of the apocalypse, the book marked a deep impression in your brain, just like teenagers start to obsess with tv shows and, well, books as well. Instead of creating a blog on the internet and writing fan fictions, which would be quite weird, because the book was written in the past century, you’ve decided to recreate the plot in the form of a comedy,” Damiano watched Medusa’s reaction to this. She listened with lowered eyes. Damiano could only imagine how she feels. How fucking scared she had to be now. “It doesn’t say anything to you?”

Medusa shook her head once again. She couldn’t recall what kind of book it could be.

“What kind of book that was?”

Now Damiano shook his head a little bit, he slightly smiled and released a small giggle.

“I won’t tell you, because what if you’ll decide to read it again one day.”

“In the form of a comedy?” asked her. “What could that be?”

“Well, the game, small tricks with friends. To neighbors, classmates, family and etc. I don’t think that it was a serious intention to hurt anybody. But playing with such things when you’re in such a mental state as you were then, is really dangerous. Biblical topics aren’t funny after all, they can come true fast if only someone has a wish.”

Medusa got cold. She kind of heard what Damiano said, but her brain didn’t process it. She was distracted by the feeling that there was someone else in the ward. But then she ran her eyes around the room, she didn’t see anything so she came back to Damiano and tried to remember what he was talking about.

“Did I have some illness?”

“Not really,” replied Damiano. “However, you experienced some kind of traumatic events, parents’ divorce, school stress, and difficulties, seasonal depression, and also you showed symptoms of false memory syndrome, which can seriously drive you crazy.”

Medusa nodded, even though she wasn’t sure what that is. She didn’t wanna ask, it would be stupid to ask about feelings you felt yourself. But on the other hand, he was a priest and probably knew what she was feeling better than she did herself. She had no idea what she should ask next, finding out other details was timid.

“Do you want to know more?” asked Damiano as if he had read her mind.

Medusa nodded her head hesitantly. Damiano noticed her confusion.

“Well, we may not speak about it,” he slapped his palms gently on his knees and wanted to stand up. “I think it’s time for you to sleep.”

“No no,” started to protest Medusa. “Tell me more, tell me everything.”

Damiano sat again on the bed.

“It could be disturbing,” he warned.

“I know,” admitted Medusa. “But maybe if you’ll tell me I’ll remember something?”

Damiano shrugged. Medusa noticed that it didn’t seem he’d believe in this.

“Why I didn’t die jumping off the bridge?” Medusa remembered the fact that seemed the most illogical to her.

“Luckyness?” laughed Damiano. “There was still the demon’s power in you that affected you physically. That’s my theory.”

Medusa frowned her eyebrows. That sounded horrible. She squeezed her blanket in her fists. Damiano was talking to her so gently even though he said such terrible things and Medusa started to feel like crying. Tears appeared in her eyes, but they didn’t run. Something scratched in the corner of the ward, behind the nightstand, and Medusa flinched immediately turning to that side.

“What?” asked Damiano and Medusa felt the interest in his voice. He didn’t hear it?

“Nothing…” Medusa lied, not knowing why. “It just seemed to me.”

Damiano nodded incredulously. But his gaze was still stuck in the corner in which Medusa was turning her head. He knew very well that she had heard something there. A girl could have seen supernatural creatures from her birth and Damiano was sure that even after this accident nothing really changed. Even though he sent away the demon which made her think that she was Death and kill people, he couldn’t cure her of this ‘illness’. Not yet. Medusa shivered but still wanted to know what happened next.

“How did it go that... I’ve killed them all?” she asked and even from that word she felt bitterness in her mouth.

“Because of bad being of yours and involving into the role, the demon possessed you, not so hard to grasp, huh?” Damiano grinned, but it wasn’t funny for him, he wasn’t mocking. “When everything started to turn crazy, your parents tried to reach your psychiatrist…”

“Victoria?” Medusa interrupted him, remembering that the doctor who was here not so long ago introduced herself as a psychiatrist. That’s why Medusa felt that she knew her from somewhere.

“Yes,” Damiano agreed. “It’s her. You used to visit her for some time before everything. She used to prescribe you sleeping pills and meds that help you to concentrate at school.”

Medusa was curious why she did badly at school, but she didn’t wanna that Damiano would discontinue telling her what happened to her parents and friends. It was so weird to perceive, how interesting what you felt and what life you had, while you don’t remember anything. The sound from behind the nightstand caught Medusa’s attention again, she curled up cowardly, whatever that was, she was the only one who heard it and she got more and more scared. What if that thing there looks scary, or even worse — it can hurt her? Maybe she should tell Damiano, maybe he could help, he was a priest after all… 

“You didn’t like that your parents wanted to help you, usually demons hate when someone is trying to give help to their prey. And your friends got bored playing this game, because whatever you did something always got wrong or unsuccessful, usually what you wanted and never them. Long story short, during one sleepover demon cut through their throats,” Damiano got silent. “Your sister is still alive though, she helped to find doctors and doctors helped to find me. Now you’re clean,” he added.

Damiano wasn’t sure how much he can help saying that she was safe and free from the demon, because knowing that you killed all your loved ones now in any way should feel wrecking. He saw how a single tear dropped down Medusa’s cheek. She sat stuck her eyes to some corner of the ward, but not at the same where she heard the sound. She wasn’t thinking about the creature right there hiding behind her nightstand, she was overwhelmed by the horror which was covered by what Damiano just told her. Perception probably hit hard. One moment Damiano doubted if he did good, however, then came a thought that she deserves to know, she won’t live without any memories and especially this cruel forever. That would be even more inhumane than she felt now.

Prevailed the silence. Medusa began to snort until it became sobbing. Her crying sounds filled the whole room. Damiano looked at her face, how she was covering it, trying to stop dropping tears. Then he gently took her hand and exposed her face. Medusa wasn’t looking him in the eyes, she tried to shut her own as much as possible.

“Dussy, look at me,” comforting and almost lovingly he said to her. “Come on, look…”

Damiano knew that now he couldn’t let a girl out of his sight never. She was the most vulnerable than ever. He also was curious. Curious about what she sees and if he can send it away, even though that not as like the usual demon. He and the group of medics are going to work with this girl as much as it takes.

Medusa didn’t dare to look at Damiano. She didn’t dare to open her eyes in general. She rather doesn’t see anything than know in what reality she was. But Damiano started quietly and softly talking to her.

“I know that it’s insanely scary, but you have to understand that it’s over now… Leave your pain to God. You didn’t do that of your own will, Medusa, I know that you’ll miss your parents and your friends, but we’ll survive that grief and horror. Okay?”

Medusa was shaking her head.

“No…” she said silently. “It can’t be…”

Medusa imagines how she should have done that, how it should have looked like. She, a knife and the blood of loved ones on her hands. All the scariest views were standing in front of her eyes and none of them probably was as scary as it was in reality.

Damiano released a sigh full of sympathy. How else he could have helped her?

“Medusa, you must look at me,” even if he didn’t want to this time his voice sounded demanding and even strict.

Medusa shuddered because of his changed voice tone. She reluctantly and cowardly pulled her hand off her cheeks and hardly met Damiano’s glance. He smiled.

“That’s it. Just like that.”

“I’m scared,” whispered Medusa. She looked at Damiano’s face, it seemed that she was asking for all the possible help and safety that he can provide. Finally, she even decided to admit that, besides everything, she heard sounds from behind her nightstand. “There, behind the nightstand is something… I’m so scared.”

Damiano looked behind it. He was interested in what kind of creature she’d see there, but he didn’t wanna make her look. It was enough stress for this person tonight.

“I understand that you think that what you hear is real, but there’s nothing, trust me. No one can’t hurt you. A little bit unpleasant and that’s it,” he told her. “If you want, I can bless you and the room, if the creature is evil, felt God it’ll leave.”

Medusa snorted and nodded.

“And if it isn’t evil, I’ll still hear it?”

Damiano shrugged.

“Probably, but it couldn’t hurt you.”

Medusa nodded one more time.

“Okay,” said she quietly. “You can… Bless me…” it was a weird word for her, she had never been blessed before. She hasn’t understood how it works, religious classes at school were boring and lifeless, just Damiano looked different to her. He did something to her, she’ll never forget, even though she doesn’t remember how it happened.

Damiano switched his position. He leaned back and the dignity that was inherent to a priest appeared in him, but at the same time, he seemed relaxed and calm. He lifted one hand and made a cross sign in front of Medusa.

“In the name of Father, and the Son and Holy Spirit. Amen,” said he gently and then softly touched Medusa’s forehead with his thumb drawing there a small cross.

Medusa feeling his finger on her forehead closed her eyes and blushed. Down her cheek dropped an unwilling tear again.

“Here you go,” smiled Damiano. “Now you could sleep in peace.”

Medusa opened her eyes and quickly swiped her tear with her baby pink pajama’s sleeve. She didn’t know how she should feel. Will Damiano leave now? She didn’t want to sleep alone, even if nurses were waking in the hallway, Damiano was her small land of safety, at least for now. She still could hear the sound but she calmed down knowing that she has to trust Damiano. No one could hurt her while he was here, and that was the reason why she didn’t wanna him to leave. Horror about the parents and friends had come in waves, making her flinch.

“Are you going to leave?” asked her with fear. She was scared of a positive answer. “Please stay,” added quickly.

It’s going to be hard for Medusa to sleep. Seemed the night was full of nightmares. She needed, that someone would be here beside her when she’ll woke up at night not knowing where she is and screaming in pain with every flashback. She was so scared of it, but that was what gonna follow her for no one knows how long. Maybe for decades, maybe for whole her life, and even after death…

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Damiano comforted her.

Medusa released a sigh of relief. She adjusted her pillow and lay down. She was still looking at Damiano, at his face, and saw how he smiles. Then she gathered enough courage to take his hand again, but this time herself. His palm was so soft and warm. She squeezed it hard, and Damiano wasn’t resisting. Medusa closed her eyes, if he’ll be here and held her hand, maybe she will succeed to sleep for real, maybe the nightmare will be easier.

“You’ll be here while I sleep?” asked Medusa again, she wanted to be sure.

“Yes yes, I’ll always be here,” he calmed her down. She squeezed his hand so hard that he even felt pain, but he didn’t mind. Let the girl settle down.

Damiano knew that now they’ll spend so much time together. He knew that now he has to protect her from she wouldn’t be doing any bad things. Now he was about to take her with him and be her protector for as much time as it takes.

A/N: This is a very first fic I've ever written. The story will go on :) Thank you for any kind of attention. ❤️

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[reputationdamiano]

dandelions

pairing: damiano david x reader

warning(s): one mention of blood in person's veins

word count: 631

summary: when you and damiano find a field of dandelions, your vacation in french countryside can’t get any better.

a/n: over a year ago, a certain person made a playlist for me, this song was in it. i still find it very beautiful and it inspired me to write a short fic. as you may see, i’m trying to improve my writing. i also want to thank @bidet-and-legolas for proofreading 🤍

dandelions. 

there were hundreds of thousands of them. sitting on the ground, surrounded by them, you felt like a plant from a different ecosystem which has been gradually putting down its roots. 

a light breeze seemed to be moving feather-like clouds high above the planet. the temperature was the optimum in which you felt most at peace with reality: high, but not a suffocating heat. 

while slowly approaching you, damiano took all of his steps like a spy. in his eyes, you were a masterpiece and he was admiring you.

your hair was falling down in cascades over a flaxen dress the color of freshly harvested peaches. you were holding one of the flowers in your hand with great caution, like it was the last one in the world and you could save the species from going extinct. 

“what are you thinking about, bella?” your boyfriend asked, and sat down on the grass. he began tracing the tattoo on your arm with his fingers, just like he did a week after you got it and finally took the protective film off it. damiano loved every inch of your skin and always let you know about it. 

“i’m wishing on those little things” 

this was true. when you encountered this field about ten minutes ago, during your bike excursion in the countryside, it instantly reminded you of an old superstition. 

“and what are you wishing for?” damiano enquired, resting his head on your shoulder and intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“don’t you know saying it out loud is against the rules of wishing?” you replied half-jokingly. 

“come on, won’t you tell me?” damiano tried to convince you, looking at you with puppy eyes. 

“alright” you blew the seeds of the dandelion and watched them make their way through the lukewarm air. you looked into his hazel eyes and cupped his cheeks delicately.

“i wished that you’ll be mine forever”

then you closed your eyes and pulled him even closer. that’s when your lips met his in a soft kiss that was becoming more and more passionate every second.

when it came to an end, damiano’s eyes light up like sparklers. 

“your wish is going to come true, i promise” he beamed and looked at you fondly. 

“but i need you to close your eyes right now” damiano added. 

“um.. okay?” you didn’t have the slightest idea what he was plotting this time but you followed his instructions. 

he must’ve gotten up from the ground because your shoulders brushed and the space next to you seemed empty. 

you could feel the blood in your veins flowing faster and faster.

“dami, where are you going?” you couldn’t help but ask. 

“please be patient” his voice could be heard a few meters away from your sitting spot.  although you were hyped up, you kept sitting still, seeing nothing but darkness in front of you.

“well, you can open your eyes now” 

you finally lifted your eyelids to a sight of damiano kneeling before you. he was holding a little blue box with a shiny ring in it. the loving look on his face already expressed what he was about to say.

“i finally gathered the courage to do this. will you marry me, y/n?” 

the last five words were the confirmation that your boyfriend and you shared the same wish. you were convinced that no one could tear two of you apart, ever. 

your eyes glazed over as you reached for his hand. 

“yes” you exclaimed. the next thing you knew, you had a diamond ring on your finger. damiano pulled you in and your lips started moving in perfect sync. in that moment, it was like you were the only people on earth. 

“sei l’amore della mia vita” damiano confessed.

“i’ll be yours forever” 

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

taglist: @ethanesimp @bidet-and-legolas @mywritingonlyfans@kirstansworld @gretavanfleetlove @otaculo @bieberhoodforever @kyliesalvatore @dont-let-me-drown-in-you  @hopelessromantic727 @ilwiwbysmv  @lovelymaneskindays @grzybowysyn  @butkutee

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