#but how am i supposed to do any of that (ignoring any movies i wanna get seen) if i know im just gonna boot up xfiles s1ep1 right after | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

filthforfriends · 11 months

Text

Chapter 14

Alpha!Damiano Omegaverse

Read chapter 1-13 on my Masterlist

This is just self-indulgent fluff and smut, but next chapter has plot, I promise.

This morning was the type of event that would prompt basically any alpha-omega pair to knot. Including long term relationships where knotting outside of rut was subsequently rare. When a mate’s well-being has been endangered, sometimes that connection is the only thing that alleviates the emotional anguish. The borders of individuality blur during a knot. If I am part of you, then I can be absolutely positive that you are okay. If I am part of you, then I know you are safe.

You’re aware this is how you’re supposed to feel, but sex couldn’t sound less alluring. Damiano clearly disagrees. He strips without prompting, cock hardening from just the prospect of love making. This visual alone should be sufficiently arousing, and yet there isn’t a spark of sensation between your legs. This would be the first time you said no to sex. It was bound to happen at some point, but this particular relationship milestone couldn’t have chosen worse timing. You find yourself trying to figure out why. He’s gorgeous with his hair pulled back, all the harsh angles juxtaposed by the gentle curve of his bottom lip and those big, round eyes.

“Would you like me to take your clothes off?” Damiano asks with a smirk. He raises a single eyebrow and saunters towards you. Nothing. Like someone had clicked the off switch.

“Can I have a hug?”

“Of course you can have a hug,” he scoffs, eyebrows knitted like the request is ridiculous. Dami’s embrace brings you onto your tiptoes. Instead of having you lean forward, he moves completely into your personal space. Immediately, both hands are under your top, his warm skin sliding against yours. Touch wasn’t the issue, in fact it felt wonderful and relaxing. It was a welcome reminder that all the chatter was in passing, but permanent were your two bodies, bound together.

You keep your face pressed against Dami’s shoulder, avoiding pulling away for as long as possible. Because then there’ll be kissing and the expectation of slick, or at least something. Damiano takes it upon himself to keep the ball rolling, fingers unclasping your bra. You move back so suddenly that he’s worried he hurt you somehow.

“I don’t wanna,” you blurt.

“You don’t wanna…what?” His confusion isn’t misplaced, considering you’ve never offered less than enthusiastic consent.

“After all the crying, I don’t feel like it.” You step back and begin rubbing the accidental smudge of permanent marker on your thumb.

“Say it so I know you feel like you can,” he requests, softly.

“I don’t want to have sex right now.”

“Is it because I smell different?” He fails at masking his devastation.You try to determine if the presence of his normal musk would change your mind. Separating everything so it could be properly examined felt impossible.

“I don’t feel like a sexual being right now and I’m not sure if anything could change that headspace.”

“Okay.” Dami nods with a poker face. “Well, I will put pants on.” Something pulls inside you, not from your cunt, but in your stomach. It’s the sensation of really, truly missing someone, the need to be closer.

“Mm – wait!” As soon as he turns, you throw yourself back into Damiano’s arms. He loudly kisses your head during the lengthy embrace. You rock side to side and a tepid hand cups your lower back under the uniform. He worried you’ll think he’s ignoring your wishes. You hum in contentment and kiss his neck so Dami is reassured that all is well.

“I am all for the standing and hugging, but do you want to cuddle and watch a movie or nap, or…?

“I don’t know...” As soon as you release Dami, that empty feeling is back. “Ugh, what the fuck is wrong with me right now?”

“Nothing, baby. You are under no obligation to –”

“I know, it's not that. I just feel…uncomfortable in my own skin.” He hums in acknowledgment and turns towards the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants. Damiano is holding his tongue, but he changes subject before you have the chance to interrogate.

“What about a new nickname?” He flops down on the bed and you crawl up the mattress to meet him. Touch still careful, Dami runs a hand along your back and over to your hip. His gaze stays fixed in that region for several seconds, so you answer to distract him.

“I hadn’t thought about a replacement to be honest.”

“We don’t have to think of one,” he assures.

“No, no, I like it during…when I’m feeling a certain way. It sounds more natural than my name.” He could also just address you with the customary title “omega,” but that felt wrong too. Not to mention that adhering to customs was the antithesis of your personal philosophy. You didn’t want to be alpha and omega as society dictated, but instead Dami and…something.

“In Italian, are there pet names?”

“Oh my god, so many. There's…leprotta, topolina, pulcina.” You could listen to Damiano pronounce his R’s and T’s all day.

“What do those mean?”

“Leprotta is bunny. Topolina means little mouse and pulcina means, um, chick.” You shake your head with an expression of displeasure. “Too cutesy?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, my grandmother calls Sandro orsetto and me tigrotto which means little bear and little tiger.” Those names make you perk up before the reality of the association sets in.

“Won’t you think of your grandmother then?” Damiano makes a face of disgust. “Yeah, exactly. I like those though.”

“Piccola just means little one.” You ponder on that diminutive for a moment. It could only be used in Italian because the possibility of him saying it in front of another person makes you preemptively cringe.

“Maybe…”

“That’s also pretty cutesy. Ah, okay, there's leoncina and lupina. Little lion, or I guess little lioness, and little wolf. Yeah?” You watch Dami’s expression change to one of excitement as he speaks. The both of you can feel those fit better.

“So in English that’d be cub or, um…”

“Pup.” Pup was a feeling that always landed you in headspace. It was a word you associated with submission, but not submission for the sake of it. To be Damiano’s pup was to be under his protection, to be safe, carefree. Pups weren’t expected to say and do the right thing. Pups were still learning. Everybody knew that a pup couldn't guard itself, couldn’t take care of itself.

“So you’re my pup then?” You nod and melt onto Dami’s chest. “You’re my little wolf. My little, baby wolf.” The throaty whine you omit is just an effort to externalize the swell of internal pressure. For the same reason your feet flex and hands strangle the pillow under Damiano’s head.

“I feel like your pup,” you confess.

“I can tell. You’re squirming around like a puppy.”

“I think I want a knot, but it’s like my body doesn’t want sex,” you groan in discomfort at housing such a contradiction.

“I could give you a knot and we could just cuddle.” You prop yourself up, legs still entangled with Dami’s.

“You’d do that? What about the blue balls?” He smirks knowingly.

“Well I’d have to complete my normal morning routine and wait 10 minutes.”

“Morning routine?” He’d definitely brushed his teeth. The glass of bright orange juice on the try catches your eye and you realize neither of you had eaten. With a metabolism like Dami’s, he was probably starving and sex would burn calories he hadn’t yet ingested.

“I’m definitely hungry to,” you shrug, sliding off of the bed to retrieve the tray. It was such a sweet thoughtful thing for Matteo to do. He knew you were coming to his house unannounced and he knew you’d be hungry.

“Your dad’s kinda the best mmm,” you eat half of a sandwich in about three bites and drink all the juice in a single go.

“Yeah, this was really great of him,” Dami agrees through a mouthful of eggs. Thankfully, you’d skipped the Trying to Not Look Like Hyenas When You Eat stage in the relationship. Plus teasing Dami for getting crumbs in his underdeveloped facial hair was way too much fun. (Unless Sandro pitched in at which point he’d get a little sensitive).

“Something on my face?” he mumbles with a full mouth, left hand coming to brush off the usual suspects.

“Not this time.” He sets his utensils on the tray and moves it to his desk. Hands on his hips, Damiano thoroughly chews his last bite while conscientiously piecing his next sentence together.

“Making sure you eat, I should have instigated that, but it's not um…” he gestures towards his head, “not what I had in mind when I said morning routine. See, usually I, I –” he looks down to his still partially erect cock.

“Masturbate! Babe, you didn’t have to make it into charades.” He blushes, now looking at his feet.

“So I’m gonna do that.” Damiano gestures of the shoulder with his thumb. The fact that he wanted to jerk off in the bathroom so you didn’t feel pressured was adorable.

“Alternatively, I could sit on your lap with my top off and play with your hair. Maybe kiss your neck?”

“Hnnngg oh, fuck yes.” He scrambles back up the bed, shedding his sweats on the way. You straddle his lap and allow Damiano to enthusiastically undress you. There's a pause, once you’re topless and he’s naked, but self-conscious about going straight into violently wanking. You almost tell him to get on with it before coming up with a better idea. Gathering all the saliva to the front of your mouth, you spit onto his dry cock. A trail of saliva connects your lips and his groin for a few seconds. Once that breaks, so does the spell that held him in a pause. Damiano whimpers with abandon and damn near strangles his shaft.

Right away, you have to sit up and support your own weight, since resting on him was about as steady as breaking a wild mare. Damiano rolls his hips, thrusts his pelvis, changing how he’s getting off every 10 seconds. Of course he doesn’t have to decide, because there's no one else requiring consistent stimulation. His facial features twitch, eyes unable to decide on being open or closed.

First, you carefully untwist the elastic from his hair, letting it fall. You run your nails over his scalp and through his undercut. One hand curls pieces around your finger and another massages his ear. You run the shell of Dami’s ear between your index and middle, then rub the cartilage, before finally pulling on his earlobe. Making the most of your cleavage, you put both arms around his neck and hunch your shoulders forward. Dami manages to focus his gaze for a moment and presses his face to your breasts. He makes a few warped sounds of pleasure and you feel jizz hit your stomach. Damiano kept pulling on his cock far past when you would’ve stopped. Even after the ejaculation, he stroked himself to over-stimulation.

That had to be under two minutes. Now with both hands free, he encircles your mid-back, keeping you close enough to have his face against your boobs.

“Dami, I come bearing terrible news. You can’t stay with your face between my titties forever.” He bemoans this theatrically.

“Just a little longer,” he whines. You scoff and allow it, stroking his hair. A few seconds pass and Dami lets out the heaviest, most burdened sigh and sits up like his head weighs 100 pounds.

“I know that was hard for you, but at least you made great time.”

“You don’t get to make fun of me for finishing fast if it's not inside you,” he groans, turning red anyways.

“It was a compliment! That was very efficient.” He rolls his eyes with a smile and releases you. It’s only so Damiano can lean back and watch his cum drip down your abdomen. You indulge this until the semen is nearing the waistband of your pants, at which point you wipe it off with a tissue. Dami pouts like you’ve told him he can’t have dessert before dinner and not as if he wanted to watch his cum dry on your skin.

“Let’s try something familiar to start, yeah?” Already aware of the position he’s referencing, you turn on your side. Damiano lays snuggly behind you and even pulls up the blanket. It feels so safe that you’re almost ready to slip into headspace, eyes slowly falling closed.

“I’m gonna put my hand between your legs, completely still. It’s just for pressure and warmth,” he narrates. Dami rubs your lower stomach, then dips his fingertips into your underwear. Rather than push a hand between your thighs, he waits for you to open your legs. You do so gradually and his touch moves at the same pace. After some adjustments, you get his hand in a comfortable spot that closely cups your vulva. It’s a really reassuring sensation, for the most vulnerable part of you to be guarded by your alpha.

“How’s that pup?” he whispers. You nod and sigh in contentment.

“Good, mhm.”

”This is just a gradual way to wake up your body.” Very lightly, Damiano scents you and rests two fingers on your bottom lip. It's gratifying to watch you submit despite not being penetrated. Allowing yourself to act out of instinct, you curl up for the sake of safety. It’d been such a terrifying morning, and while the day's events may not be in the forefront of your mind, you still vividly remember how they made you feel.

“Why is my little, baby wolf curling up against me?” Dami mirrors your body language so he remains just as close. He feels you take a breath and untense your muscles. The warm puff of air from the exhale hits the pads of his fingers.

“Pup, you are safe. I am your shield.” You go quiet for a couple minutes and he is trying to figure out your headspace when Damiano sees a weak hand making its way to his wrist. Usually, he’d help you along, but this time his own hands are occupied. Watching you struggle to reach his wrist is painful, but he needs to respect your autonomy. Finally, you push his hand forward, fingers breaching your lips. It was this funny little habit you’d developed to stay quiet, sucking on his index and middle finger while in headspace. He’d accidentally instigated it when Damiano touched your scent glands for the very first time.

“There you go, pup,” he murmurs. It turned out that this reassurance was what you needed to finally trust the urge to submit. Unfortunately, Damiano also needed his hand back because his wrist was aching. Since you were practically silent anyways, he figured it’d be a non-issue, but felt teeth when pulling away.

“Pup, what’re you doing?” he coos, and kisses your hairline. Dami’s careful not to interrupt omegan headspace by jostling you. Without sexual contact or much practice, the state was more meditative. You were just under the surface, relaxation anchored only by Damiano’s hands. So when he tries to remove his fingers from your mouth again, Damiano ends up hissing in pain because you bite down. Far more painful to endure was the forlorn, betrayed whine you release. All progress is lost and you curl up again, holding tighter to his wrist.

“Okay, okay, pup. It’s yours,” he whispers. Damiano puts his lips to your ear and hums. You can feel the music’s vibrations. It soothes your scattered thoughts and allows your focus to narrow. You imagine the sound waves making their way through space, unencumbered by the world’s stressors. Dami’s original objective was to get you purring, but now he’s centered on a pertinent, and perhaps more realistic goal; figure out why you’d become so attached to his hand in your mouth for these past few months.

Assuming the gesture was utilitarian, he’d never questioned it until now. It might be the only part of your sex lives you hadn’t discussed. However, Damiano could feel from your body’s lack of response that it wasn't sexually stimulating. It was about comfort, somehow, a way to regulate during headspace and that's why you couldn’t let go. It made sense, considering you never did this with your eyes open. You pulled his hand to your mouth on the way into headspace – which is why Damiano had begun just placing it there – and you rejected it while surfacing to consciousness.

“I’m curious about this little habit of yours, pup,” he muses. Up close, he could see the tiny movements your mouth made because you sucked in a rhythmic pattern, releasing intermittently. The mannerism was strongly reminiscent of something he couldn’t quite recall. He could just ask later, but you might not even be aware of the behavior. Damiano imagines trying to explain that you suck on his fingers to self-sooth. You’d be embarrassed, maybe even squirm around, like today when he called you pup for the first time

I feel like your pup. Dami had assumed you meant that the name “pup” fit well in your dynamic, but it might have been literal. He admires your profile, finally a peace, and realizes your mouth is moving because you’re not sucking, you’re suckling. He’s almost overcome with a wave of protectiveness, since there's no way to guard you more than he is right now, even though he fucking needs to make you safer. Spooning, a hand between your legs and the other in your mouth – the only way to get closer is a knot. Damiano reminds himself that it is a decision made both ways and tries to calm down.

Feeling the drastic change in his body language, you begin to stir. The very glandular progress between your legs speeds up as you ascend towards consciousness. At the same time, you reject Dami’s fingers, turning your head one way and pushing his hand another. He winces while flexing his wrist, and the stiff joint makes a clicking sound.

In an attempt to get more comfortable, you turn onto your back, feebly pushing the restrictive elastic waistband of your uniform down and grunting at the effort. Damiano uses both hands to finish the task for you. At this point in the relationship, guiding words for physicality aren’t necessary. Because he was the only partner you’d explored headspace with, there weren’t any left over mannerisms from another relationship that he had to decipher. Dami had personally overseen the entire evolution of your relationship with omegan headspace. Subsequently, he could read your body language, your vocalizations, and even your energy with near complete accuracy.

Near being the operative word today. The day he’d figured out that your subconscious perceived him as such a nurturing and protective figure, that you were nursing. Or rather, going through the motions of nursing as a way to self-soothe. Omegan headspace allows you to relinquish that pernicious hold on self-awareness. Upon which, your first instinct is to seek a feeling of profound safety, and you trusted him to provide that. You felt like Damiano’s pup because Damiano felt like your guardian.

“What’er ya thinkin’?” you ask, before turning to press your face against Dami’s skin, laying on your right side. When he doesn’t answer, you halfway pull him on top of you, trying to absorb that golden, radiant heat into your own skin. It felt like the beginnings of a sunburn and also served to pull Damiano out of his head. To your surprise, when your eyes finally open, he’s beaming, not pensive.

“Hey,” you croak, chin tilting up for a kiss. Of course he obliges and keeps it gentle, almost chaste. When you look up after parting, he’s already gazing down at you in adoration, wearing a full smile.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“I am,” he confirms warmly. “But how else could I feel, with you all to myself, precious lupina.” Kiss.

“Fuck taking space.” Dami snorts, but nods in agreement.

“Jay hasn’t mentioned it since.” Kiss. “So maybe he rehid the body and Clem can’t blackmail him anymore.”

“I really would have been happy to lend him a tarp if he’d just asked.” Damiano giggles and scents you, nuzzling against your profile. You know he could keep going until the entire room was heavy with pheromones and you smell like a I Belong to Damiano billboard. To prevent the cloudiness of mind, you break his focus. Kiss.

“I love you.” Kiss.

“And I love you,” kiss, “little wolf.” Now you’re the one beaming, and every part of you knows that calling Damiano was the right thing. Less than two hours ago, it had seemed like that fear and misery would do more than take its pound of flesh. it would erode your self-image until there was no y/n left. That was the only way out before Dami’s presence. Of course you knew that he was here to protect you from monsters, but never had you considered those monsters would be ones of your own making.

“I can feel my vagina again.”

“That is one of the more unique ways I’ve been propositioned.” Damiano turns over, reaching towards his nightstand on the right side of the bed. He opens the drawer, pulls out a clear plastic bottle with a blue cap, and lays down, situating a pillow under his head.

“Well, get over here.” He grabs your left upper thigh and hauls you across the bed with a grunt, positioned with your hips above his own, and your bent knee level with his ribcage. Damiano rests a wandering hand on the top of your ass while the other shakes the bottle to disperse the contents towards the cap.

“Actually you’re gonna want to take off your underwear.” You oblige while trying to read the stylized writing on the label, also in blue. Dami sets it on the counter and puts his hair up. You hum in appreciation and resume the previous position: chest to chest with your other leg relaxed along his side. It's so comfortable with the skin to skin contact that you could fall asleep like this, if not for the spear digging into the crook of your thigh. Everytime you shift, Damiano’s eyes flutter from the modicum of stimulation.

“This would be easier if you had less distracting thighs,” he pants, kneading the dimpled tissue below the crease of your glute. At any given time, this area bore a teeth mark or two because someone had a particularly strong pursuit predation instinct. Laying on your stomach was the comfiest way to do homework, but you’d learned your lesson about doing so around Dami with bare legs. Still, sometimes he was out of the room for long periods of time or didn’t greet anyone upon arriving. You wrongfully assumed that you’d be able to hear the bedroom door opening, but Dami somehow became dead silent as he stalked across the room.

You fidgeted mindlessly while distracted with your AE notes, feet kicking, arches alternating between flexed and bent. All that movement only heightened Damiano’s prey drive. He couldn’t rest his weight on the mattress without you knowing, so as soon as he reached the edge of the bed, Damiano began the brief, but most exciting part of the pursuit. He pounced, scrambling up the mattress so quickly that you felt the weight shift and his teeth in your soft flesh simultaneously. Of course he didn’t actually hurt you, but the bastard loved to hear you squeal and then catch you when you tried to scamper away. Perhaps he enjoyed it even more when you snarled in retribution and tried to fight him off, knowing that his victory was inevitable.

When Damiano slips into headspace while chewing on his bottom lip, you realize what kind of sex he’d like to have. The kind that you could never explain to Gia, and would hesitate describing to Xiema, despite her also being an omega.

“I’m sorry.”

“What? No, no, no. If you don’t want a knot anymore that's fine.”

“I do, it’s just that I can tell that you…” He blushes and shakes his head.

“Mm-mm, no apologies.” Kiss. “We don’t do low-key very often. This is nice.” Dami’s eyes are drawn to his hand as it strokes up and down your flank. His other forearm again rests on your very low back/glutes.

“Look at my face,” you murmur. His eyes snap up and Damiano’s cheeks turn pinker. He’s bashful, but still grinning slyly.

“Wanted to give you a chance to have a complete thought.”

“Oh, uh.” He exhales shakily, avoiding your gaze because he’s flustered, but his eyes fall right back to where they were. “Dam!”

“You’re getting curvier and it's killing me,” he finally exclaims. “Your hips are wider and your boobs are – they’re, um…I can’t believe you had a growth spurt right after I marked you. It’s cruel.”

“I guess my clothes have been fitting differently,” you ponder.

“Yes! Yes they have!” he exclaims in near hysteria.

“I had to go up a size when Valera ordered my uniform. I just figured it was because you’re a damn good cook.” You pat his chest, tracing circles on his areola.

“I would like to think that my amatriciana contributed to such a wondrous thing.”

“Hmm, your amatriciana is a wondrous thing.”

“You are my wondrous thing,” he retorts, touch dipping between your legs. In different circumstances, you would tease Dami for being so damn corny, but in this one you are watching his reaction to the lack of slick. You’re wet, body responsive to his steadying or teasing touches, nothing else. Like a beta would be. No doubt he’s disappointed, but Damiano manages his expression and picks up the bottle from the nightstand.

“What potion are you about to put inside of me?”

“Lube,” he chuckles. “Haven’t you heard of –”

“Yes, I’ve heard of lube,” you scoff. “I’ve just never…”

“Seen it?” He cocks an eyebrow, squirting some onto his hand. Dami uses his thumb to coat his fingers and warm the gel.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d have some, since we – oh.” Of course he had a bottle left over from using it with past partners. Why hadn’t he thrown it out? To be fair, you were using said lube right now.

“I actually bought this for myself, since you shamed me for using lotion,” he emphasizes.

“Scented lotion, better known as a yeast infection,” you retort.

“A little cold,” Dami warns, before his fingers make contact with your hymen. He spreads the lube around and inside the bottom of your labia, then ventures slightly above the vagina. Everything is so slippery that he ends up accidentally dipping the tip of his finger inside. You collapse on his chest with a hum, taking a deep breath and relaxing against your alpha. Damiano has three freckles on the back of his neck, all around his spine. You tap each one then switch to teeth.

“Are you gnawing on me, pup?” Instead of an answer, you bite down and enjoy working the trapezius muscle between your teeth. Damiano pushes the first finger in all at once, not met with any resistance. Your mouth falls open and you drool on his shoulder.

“So relaxed,” he hums. “Good pup.”

“This can’t be a terribly flattering position.” You were just limply splaying across him, left leg resting on the mattress and hips relaxed and open. Damiano smacks your butt as a response, pulling the cheek up to get his fingers better access. With the right leg hiked up, it actually was a pretty flattering position.

“Wait, when did I get an ass?” When you look down, the curve of your butt actually blocks the view of Damiano’s left foot.

“I can’t believe you’re just now noticing that you’ve filled out. I can’t let my mind be unoccupied, because that’s all I’ll think about.” He’s visibly straining and you can’t help but giggle, stroking his undercut. “At breakfast, during class, and especially on the field. Oh my fucking god,” he whines with his eyes squeezed shut at an embarrassing memory.

“Increased blood flow.”

“So it's basically impossible to chill out. When I feel it happening I run as hard as I can so the blood will go elsewhere.” You imagine Dami during practice, trying not to get a boner and smirk.

“How did you go through half a bottle of lube in three weeks?” you tease. “Doesn’t sex help relieve some of it?”

“Au contraire,” he pulls you on top of him, with a grunt. “You make it worse.” Now your bent leg is hanging off of Damiano’s side – knee to foot comfortably cushioned by the duvet – and your straight leg has taken its place.

“Is this position we’re gonna have sex in? Cause anatomically…” Dami wraps both arms around your waist and turns to face you. Your thigh is clutched between his own, and his cock is nearly nudging your vulva. It’s like a hug, but so much more intimate. The position also makes you keenly aware of how not wet you are.

“I’ve always wanted to do this with you, but we’re so feral that…” Damiano bends his knees so he has a way to create momentum, shifting to get things just right. “It takes a bit of adjustment and half the time we’re having sex before we’re even horizontal,” he huffs, already a little breathless. The head of his cock cries drops of milky pre-cum as it bumps against your vulva. Viscous tears run down the tip and onto the ridge, where they fall to your thigh, hot and sticky.

Damiano gets the crook of his arm under your neck and his other hand steadies his shaft in a fist. You nod so he’s confident. The blushing, velvety head rubs between your legs, parting your labia to touch you more completely, spread open. Dami keeps the pressure firm, his skin is even softer than yours. When his cock slips against the lubricated area, he doesn’t penetrate like you’d expect. Damiano runs the tip up your vulva, smearing the lube and his now plentiful pre-cum.

You find yourself moving closer and shifting to further open your hips. It’s a subconscious reaction, but once you become aware of it you check for a smirk and find Dami’s expression extremely focused instead. Aided by direction from his hand, he rubs the prominent ridge of his cock along your clit. It felt so goddamn good internally that you hadn’t considered using the anatomy externally. This is evidenced by gasping and accidently pulling Damiano’s hair. He doesn’t break the stimulation, instead using his free hand to tug on your hair in order to bring your attention to it.

You switch to cupping his shoulder. Trying to bring yourself closer, and closer still, to the point that it’s ruining the angle. Damiano is forced to momentarily abandon his ministrations to reposition your hips.

“Hey. Hey.” He has to say it twice because you’re distracted, trying to figure out why he’s moving you around. Despite your efforts to the contrary, Dami had scented you quite thoroughly and your brain wasn’t working at full speed. Finally, he just lifts your chin.

“Do you want to bite me?” He shifts into headspace since his primary role has transitioned from caretaker towards sexual being.

“Yes.”

“Good.” There's the smirk. Damiano runs his cock down your cunt, pushing inside carefully. Only then do you become aware that he’d made you produce slick while your mind was focused on his touch rather than expectations.

“Holy shit, you did it.” Dami chuckles with one of those smiles you’d run into a burning building for.

“I didn’t – ughh,” he takes a breath before thrusting deeply, until he’s met resistance. Damiano titrates his force way down, observing the miniscule changes in your expression. It's a balancing act: enough pressure to open the parts of your body that had not yet realized they could relax, but not so much that it hurts.

“That was all you, little wolf,” he pants. Your breasts are just below chin level, each heaving breath bringing them closer to Dami’s face. He forgets everything at the sight of it, eyes falling to where you’re so voluptuous that the soft flesh puckers up between his fingers when he grips your thigh. From this angle, he can just barely see his cock disappearing into the pink rim of your cunt. Damiano puts everything into the next thrust, trying to bottom out while constricted by the walls of your pussy that react to every microscopic adjustment, every breath.

“Gotta relax,” he chokes, but you tense instead, throbbing around his cock. The combination of precum, slick, and lube drip over your stretched hymen, so plentiful that your body can afford to waste some. Finally, Damiano recognizes that your cunt is squeezing down on him the way it does when she needs a knot. There was a larger purpose to this intimacy than drooling over all the ways you curved.

“Ready, lupina?” Dami’s first instinct was to fend off the urge to knot with even more fervor than he fended off the urge to cum early. With you, it was always there, but typically both parties wanted “normal sex.” A knot was both a commitment to time, intensity, discomfort, and could even be counterproductive to pleasure. All the same, Damiano had to re-enforce his ability to hold back.

He’d had plenty of practice with other omegas, but your relationship made him feel 14 again. Three months without penetrative sex didn’t help matters either, since every molecule of his being was screaming for your bare skin. It was an entirely unexpected level of difficulty and Damiano consequently embarrassed himself on several occasions. If he held off the knot, he also came in a few minutes. If he did both, Dami would be forced to pull out until the urge to give you a knot was manageable again.

“Ready,” you whispered, face tickled by his hair. Today should have been as simple as following instincts. However, as the pressure swelled from groin to bollocks to shaft, Dami felt a wave of anxiety.

“Are you sure?” Indisputably, you are sure, looked it too. The point of no return was daunting to him only and Damiano wasn’t very good at approximating it either. Your lips kissed his sweaty forehead, hand squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Thank god your choice never wavered when Dami would voice a final chance for you to refuse the knot. There’d been at least one occasion when he spoke too late. If you’d asked him to, Damiano couldn’t have pulled out no matter how intensely he may wish it. That thought haunted him.

It caused you pain each time. Since you hide nothing from him in these moments, Damiano could see it very plainly in your expression. Through preventing pregnancy, birth control also reduces your levels of relaxin, the hormone that relaxes ligaments in the omegan pelvis. Yes, you wanted it, but maybe Damiano should have held back. Maybe, with a clear head, you wouldn’t choose the discomfort and he should have known better. He should have been more aware of the cost and protected you from it.

“Dami?” The hand on his shoulder comes to stroke his pensive expression. “Where’d you go my love?” He was overthinking something about your wellbeing, visibly straining. You squeeze down on his cock forcefully, which does the job better than words ever could.

“Ooh ah,” he gasps and blinks forcefully, landing back in the present. When he finally looks at you, Damiano knows that you’d resent him for making a decision about your body on your behalf. A lapse in the trust you shared would be worse than struggling to integrate a knot. Plus, marking would have been so much less personal. Damiano wouldn’t have been able to feel your body’s reaction as he pierced the gland and that was an experience he couldn’t give up for anything.

“Let it happen. You’re not meant to control this.” With a huff, Dami plops his head onto the pillow, noses brushing.

“I want to control it,” he grumbles. You run a finger down the bridge of Damiano’s nose fondly while admiring him.

“But you don’t get to,” you coo, moving the loose strands out of his face. He grimaces and shifts his hips in discomfort. You did some independent research and found that, with medical exceptions that didn’t include AD2, knots shouldn’t be painful to produce.

“Do you think it hurts because you’re trying to control when it happens and how fast?” He shrugs, which is an alpha’s way of saying yes. You have to shove the hand on your thigh away because his grip hurts. Dami whines an apology while looking distraught and you finally just take his face in your hands.

“Let go.”

“I wanna –”

“Let go.” He shakes his head, propped up on an elbow and casting his eyes downward. This makes you wonder if forcing a knot is possible, by squeezing down like an omega might during heat. You direct focus into gripping his shaft lightly and progressively applying more pressure.

“Damiano, don’t make me watch you suffer, let go.” He quivers, the veins in his face distended even more than usual during alpha headspace. He’d been scared before your first knot that you’d flip shit like a beta had a couple years ago. You try a different approach.

“You’re safe. I’m safe. I’m not gonna reject you.” He pouts, looking at you from his peripheral vision.

“Mind reader,” he gripes, laying back down. Dami inhales deeply, taking stock of his physiology. How was he supposed to let go? When he occasionally woke up with a knot, he used it as practice for self control. He didn’t even know what letting go would be like, how it would feel. That tension felt vital to sexual performance.

“What if I can’t do it?” he groans.

“You can.” Damiano tried to stop managing the stifling pressure in his groin with which he withheld or allowed a knot.

“I don’t know if, if –”

“Take a deep breath and relax all your muscles.” You do so together, and can hear Dami’s frustration at first, but on the third breath his eyes roll back in his head momentarily. He whines and clutches you, hips working much faster and taking long strokes. Initially, after letting go, Damiano came to the conclusion that there was no other way to produce a knot. A seconds later the feeling inside him swelled up so quickly that he almost choked on it.

You were there, thank god. Had he tried this alone, Dami would have been overwhelmed and put off. At first you’re supporting – and enjoying – his very visceral reaction having a knot without discomfort. However the lag period between Damiano feeling it and you feeling it is much shorter.

“Wow,” you gasp, the sensation pushing behind your belly button, making it hard to catch your breath. Through sheer willpower, Damiano had been giving you an extra second or two to integrate the knot. The position wasn’t helping either. Hugging made everything cramped and closed your hips when having the open felt most natural. There simply wasn’t room for the knot in this position and it was creating an obstacle for the both of you.

“Back,” you manage, holding tight as he flips you over. It was something you really appreciated about Damiano. Whatever you found most comfortable was what your bodies did. In the new position he can take those deep, long thrusts that he’s been craving, so forceful it's scooting you up the bed. Feral fucking – while a person favortie – wasn’t what you wanted after this mornings events. However, he was enjoying this knot so much that you didn’t have the heart to say anything, initially.

“Dami, Dami, hey.” You bring his focus to the present. When your eyes meet, it's obvious that Damiano has lost all his self-awareness to pleasure. He slows down while visibly struggling to focus on anything but this sensation. The tendons in his arms strain as does the vein across his forehead, while he quells that desperate sexual inertia that demands he fill you up with his seed. Resting on his knees, Dami comes to a stop while panting.

“Hey, there,” you stroke this side of his face, earning a smile. He blinks languidly and takes a few seconds to focus his vision.

“Holy shit.”

“So that works. Are you gonna be good or…?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dami nods a little too enthusiastically, partially to convince himself. Gradually, you find a comfortable position to rest in while connected. The reassurance of a knot stills the tumultuous swells of emotion which had been haranging you all day. Right now, Dami fills that void, not just literally, but the literal part was so important. Alphas and omegas were physical creatures.

Instead of the excruciating tightening of panic or nausea of fear, your body was satisfied with alpha cock. To just call it fucking was beyond reductive. Velvety in texture, firm in structure, and throbbing with his heartbeat, Damiano made himself fit into the needs of your body. Omegas were supposed to sexually serve alphas, but he was serving you. Focusing on the exact place where your walls stretched around his knot was more grounding than anything else could be. The imposter syndrome, dissociation, and mental fogginess cleared. You actually find yourself yawning out of relaxation.

“I feel better, too,” Dami says, pulling you in by your thigh again. As he wraps his arm around your middle, each line of musculature is revealed. He’s so strong, and if you focus, you can feel that strength in your own body. The invincibility, physical prowess, and absolute certainty that no one would get past him today was a pivotal reprieve from your own vulnerability.

“Lupina.” You’re too caught up in enjoying the diminutive to realize that Damiano is trying to address you. “Lupina. Lupina,” he repeats in a sing-song voice. “Pup?” he tries. You meet his gaze lazily. Just a couple months ago Dami would run from this kind of intimacy screaming. Right now he’s reaching towards you, in every sense of the word.

“Yeah, you’re sleepy now, aren’t you?” It takes a moment to pinpoint the sensation, but upon doing so you nod in agreement. This kind of drowsiness while the sun was high in the sky was disorienting. Damiano pulls you against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. Surrounded by both his arms, forehead against his skin, a shadowed niche is created.

He’d forgotten to put deodorant on today. The slight sourness of his armpits, mixed with the heady scent of his pheromones, is ambrosial when it should be repellent. This is what safety smelled like.

***

After 10 minutes of tearing apart his bedroom, Sandro finally remembered that his little brother had “borrowed” his dark green sweater last week. The temperature was going to plummet right before the game this evening and he really didn't feel like bringing a blanket. He knocks on Damiano’s door, once gently and once not so gently, to no reply. Rolling his eyes, Sandro plays video games until 3pm at which point he doesn’t feel at all guilty interrupting Dam’s beauty sleep.

“Dam, I need my sweater,” he calls through the door. After another round of knocking he presses his ear to the wood and listens. Matteo was peacefully stirring sugar into his tea when Sandro’s knuckles rapped against the door once again. Dam was a notoriously heavy sleeper, even as a baby.

“I’m just going to come in if you ignore me!” Caught up in a memory, it takes Matteo a moment to recall that his son isn’t the only one asleep in his bed.

“Sandro, Sandro, wait,” he calls, hastily setting his mug on the counter.

“Dad, he needs to get up for the game anyways.” He turns the knob and flings the door open. Usually such commotion would make you startle awake, but the security of a knot allowed your nervous system to decompress. Stimuli elicited a less drastic reaction, which is why you were only halfway to consciousness when Matteo called out a warning as he rounded the kitchen counter.

“Wait –” Sandro rolled his eyes at the precious treatment parents alloted to the youngest child and tapped Dam on the shoulder. He was turned on his side with you tucked so snuggly against him that his body obscured the view of your own. A person would have to be close enough to set a hand on Dami’s shoulder, which Sandro currently was, to see you.

“Y/n is in –” Even as his older brother tried to scamper backwards, it was too late. You woke to the most petrifying growl of blood thirsty territorialism you’d heard in your life. It made you cower against Dami, even though he was the source of the sound. His hand yanked the covers up to your chin while you tried to make sense of the present.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry!” The foreign voice turns out to be Sandro slinking out of the bedroom.

“If you weren’t my brother I’d break your ribs!!” Dami bellows. Even more terrifying is that he means it.

“Dam, I’m so so sorry.” Sandro shuts the door and continues talking through it. “I really, really am sorry. Y/n, I –”

“Don’t you fucking speak to her!!”

“Okay, okay, but I didn’t see anything, I swear!” You flush with embarrassment then blanch with fear as Damiano lets out another bone chilling sound. His forearm is sturdy across your shoulder blades, still protecting your modesty.

“I swear to god, if you even think about her, I will snap –”

“No threatening your sibling with bodily harm,” calls Matteo. Damiano snarls and falls dead silent, gradually turning his attention from to unadulterated rage to you. Footfalls tiptoe down the hall.

“Breathe,” you gasp for air and feel a wave of dizziness. Catching your breath isn’t easy. It’s been so long since you inhaled. Going from the security of a knot to this is beyond jarring. Dami strokes your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The motions are slow and steady. Finally, you look at him for the first time, in headspace, obviously.

“You – you were fucking terrifying.” His face falls.

“I scared you.”

“Well…yeah. I mean, holy shit, I’ve never ever heard that type of…” It is the ultimate violation of respect and privacy, to disturb – nay, even approach – a knotted pair. The alpha can’t properly defend his omega without also injuring them. The omega is in their most unguarded state, which is meant to be observed by their alpha alone. The act of knotting creates a feeling of profound safety and another alpha interrupting yanks that motion to the opposite side of the spectrum: profound fear.

Of course, Sandro wasn’t actually a threat. He hadn’t waited for the prime moment to slaughter Dami or steal his omega. It was apparent that you found that easier to remember than Damiano, whose chest was still heaving.

“He didn’t mean –”

“He should have known better.” You already know the wave of rage that your next question is going to evoke.

“Did – did he, um see…me?” Dami tenses for a moment and calms his temper.

“All he saw was your upper back, pup. As your alpha I would never let anyone see your body ever.” He enunciates the words sharply. “I’ll start locking my door. This won’t happen again. I’ll talk to Sandro –”

“Dami, it’s okay.” Lord knows, Sandro was never going to make this mistake again, as long as he lived.

“It's not okay,” he bites. “It is inexcusable. It was a violation and an insult.”

“It was an accident, my love.” You put a hand on the back of his head and press Damiano’s face against your scent gland. This will be more calming than words could achieve. He breathes in your pheromones and both hands wrap around your torso. Secretly, you relished that your body could quell Dami’s senseless rage or acute anxiety. Meanwhile, he didn’t have a fraction of interest in anyone else’s smell. You were his anecdote.

“What do I smell like?”

“Heaven.” This was an answer you’d heard before.

“Is it sweet or musky or?”

“Both.” His lips brush your scared scent gland. “My brother...you’d never, I mean you’re not, like – nevermind.” You try to quell whatever anxiety is plaguing your alpha, only to be reminded that he was penetrating you with your leg thrown over his waist. Dami must have gotten an erection in his sleep because there was no way he was still hard without a knot. The discomfort and ache of that intrusion wasn’t present and neither was the stickiness of leaking arousal on your inner-thighs. So you squeeze down to confirm and end up surprised.

Dami cries out and collapses against you. His mewls turn to garbled sounds and you can’t tell if he’s feeling pleasure or pain. What you were sure of, is the presence of a knot. It’s there, connecting your forms, but without the feeling of claustrophobia, without the urge to shift your hips to make the pressure palatable. You can feel your eyes water out of relief that you finally understand what all your omegan counterparts were talking about. The euphoria, the addictive sensation, you’d spent the last month trying to find this.

Some of your muscles had relaxed, others contracted to support the knot and keep it inside you. Finally, your body has adapted, and as a result, not a drop of slick or pre-cum was wasted. How could you never consider that the missing piece was the fact that this mechanism went both ways? Your cunt didn’t just receive an alpha’s knot, but could also accept it, like a locking mechanism. Wolves did it, foxes did it, omegas did it, but not on hormone suppressants. Slick production, libido, heat, sexual responses, it had all been dulled. But you were young and fertile and your body’s desire to breed circumvented your HSIUD.

This wasn’t just your omegan pussy throbbing for your alpha. Your entire groin throbbed, as if on the very brink of orgasam. The intermittent pulsing of your vaginal walls pulled Damiano inside, keeping his shaft erect. It was like breathing, in that you could stop if you focused, but your body would scream for continuance until it was impossible to resist.

Dami makes a choking sound and you lift his head via a hold on his ponytail. He’s red in the face like you’ve never seen outside of doing sprints after soccer practice. What you initially think is sweat, turns out to be tears. His head falls onto the pillow, unable to hold its weight.

“Are you okay?” He nods, momentarily removing his hand from your back to wipe his face.

“Gonna cum,” he grimaces. “Can’t help it.” You both knew that it was the one and only solution to this state, regardless of what had been previously agreed upon.

“That’s okay,” you reassure tenderly, relaxing beside him. There's a moment of relief where his face begins to go back to its normal color, but then you scoot closer and your cunt pulls another inch inside.

“Ah uh uhhh,” he moans, gasping. Concerned, you press your forehead to his and stoke Dami’s hair.

“Never been locked before,” he grunts. You can’t help but smile because you’ve never taken a first from Dami.

“Me neither.”

“For me…its – its more…” He rests his forehead against your sternum, and knowing what he really wants in his face, you scoot up. “You’re holding on to me,” he whimpers against your breasts, short fingernails digging into your skin.

“It hurts?”

“Overstimulated, but good.” You decide on attempting to distract him.

“Hey, remember when you wanted to wait until I was 16 to take my clothes off?” He chuckles breathlessly.

“This would have killed me,” he answers while stroking your flank, “you getting curves. I’d have to watch other alphas look at you, wonder if they were touching you.”

“I know that I belong to someone.”

“I love you, too,” Damiano looks up, puckering his lips for a kiss. Of course, you oblige. Having stayed in this position for the past however many hours has left several limbs and joints sore.

“Can we do missionary?”

“If we move, I’ll probably cum,” he admits bashfully.

“As opposed to staying locked and in this position forever?”

“I…want to make you cum.”

“If I have an orgasam right now it might break your dick and that's not a risk I can take.” Dami rolls his eyes with a smile.

“I just mean, in general. I thought I was gonna be this incredible lover that could last half an hour every time, and would wow you with my sexual prowess –”

“I have been wowed.”

“And you would be cumming repeatedly whenever we made love and worship my cock –”

“Worship is a bit of a strong word, but I’m his #1 fan.”

“But instead I choke on my own spit and cum quicker than I have in two years,” he winces with shame. In a shocking turn of events, Damiano is not being fair to himself.

“We do have that sex at least half of the time! When I’m so horny that I become a raging bitch or an emotional mess you always solve it, very thoroughly, I might add.” He’s grinning again at your praise and a slew of smutty memories.

“I want it to be 90% of the time.”

“And I want you to stop torturing yourself and cum.” It’s clear your words have made no leeway in this immensely inconvenient mental block so you take matters into your own hands.

“On your back.” Your left leg is already thrown over Dami’s waist at 90 degree angle, so you roll over by leaning into that. All it takes is disentangling your right leg from his and you’ve got both under you in a straddle position. Damiano moans in surprise and takes a moment for his upper body to match his lower body.

“Did you finish?” He shakes his head, again red in the face. “Come here,” you demand, grabbing both arms and pulling him into an upright position. Once you’ve got a confident hold on his torso, you bounce on his cock. Damiano goes from shakily holding himself up to gripping you so close it almost hinders your movement.

Since he’s already holding on for dear life, you switch to rolling your hips on the upstroke. After a single pass, he shrieks and begins crying with his mouth open in pleasure. Now the whole house knew what you were doing, but none of them would dare say so. It's such a beautiful, visceral reaction that you don’t care, and you can feel his spunk when he cums. Normally, you’d keep moving, but instead decide to hold Damiano's face against your bosom as he finds the other side of his climax in a daze. He’s disoriented and struggles to open his eyes at first. You support the back of his neck in your hand and feel your own body beginning to relax.

“Hello, my love. Can you hear me?” He nods, plenty content with his face resting against your bare breasts. The scorching, humid air from his panting raises goosebumps on your skin. As Damiano comes to, he presses feather light kisses on your nipples and the surrounding area.

“Yeah? You gonna be okay?” He nods again, this time managing to look up, no longer in headspace. The beautiful hazel of his irises reflects light.

“I’m good, I’m so good,” he heaves, beaming. “I, uh…” Damiano looks down to the place your bodies are joined. “I think you can get off, or try to.” Gingerly, you pull up while Dami holds the base of his cock steady. It's the last bit that worries you, but the relaxation in his face indicates that something had definitely changed.

“Mhm, you’re okay pup, keep going.” You get to the point that it’ll really start to hurt if your bodies are still locked. “Keep going.” You move maybe half a centimeter and feel something tug internally. A wave of anxiety tightens like an iron fist in your chest.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, sinking down halfway to where it's safe. “I’m scared to do it. I can’t yet.”

“My knot isn’t totally gone, but you’ll be fine. I wouldn’t ask you to hurt yourself, lupina.”

“But what if I’m not…ready? I could tear, Dami.” He pulls you down to the bed, so you’re laying on his chest.

“Flip, he instructs, and you find yourself in missionary position. Before you’ve even begun to settle, Dami pulls out. Reflexively, you gasp, expecting it to hurt, but there’s no pain. A rush of viscous fluid coats your thighs and the bed, undoubtedly all the way to the rubber mattress cover. You make a noise of disgust and recoil.

“Next time we’ll put a towel down,” Dami laughs, unperturbed. “Did that hurt?” You shake your head and his assured expression reveals that he already knew the answer. “The anxiety is normal, figured I’d just spare you and do it myself.” Damiano leans off the edge of the bed and picks a dirty sweatshirt off the floor. “For when you decide to sit up,” he smirks. “Gotta wash it anyways and I know how much you like my sweatshirts.” Blushing, you raise your hips so he can slide the fabric underneath you. Even tensing the muscles makes the hot mixture of cum, pre-cum, and slick run over your stretched hymen, off of your glute, and onto the fabric below.

Damiano watches, absolutely captivated. You close your knees in embarrassment and he makes a noise of dissent.

“C’mon, let me be a disgusting alpha. You’ve never been this full before.”

“You only came once,” you pout.

“Plus pre-cum and slick accumulating while we were locked. Puppy, you know this.” With a sigh of annoyance, you allow your legs to be pushed open.

“It didn’t feel like anything.”

“No? You’ll do well when I breed you then.” Your heart sinks and Dami watches your reaction closely. How did you feel about that? Not necessarily negatively. It was your least favorite part of your biology though. If you weren’t actively against breeding with Damiano then what was your relationship with it? Not positive either, unless there’d been a tectonic shift in your personal philosophy.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” It was a slip up and mentally Dami is concussing himself on a brick wall. As if giving him the most intimate orgasam of his life wasn’t enough, now he had to entrap you.

“Um, no, it’s fine. I just,” you sit up, ending his access to spank bank material. “I don’t know how I feel about that word…or concept.” Damiano had assumed that you’d want to reproduce, or at least roleplay it during heat. The drive was vital to your biology. He’s never considered that the entire thing would be outright unappealing. But why the fuck should you know that about yourself at age 15?

“For sure, just ignore me.” To anyone else that’d be quite convincing.

“If it's something you need to talk about, Dami…” He rapidly shakes his head, eyes downcast.

“Not at all. Just accidentally saying what I meant to only think in my head.” He rubs your thigh soothingly as his exhausted cock softens against his dark pubic thicket.

“If I was 17, would we talk about it?”

“You’re not 17.”

“But, if I was.”

“Doesn’t matter.” That makes you bristle.

“What do you mean it ‘doesn’t matter?’ It matters to me.”

“I mean it's not relevant because you aren’t 17, you’re 15.”

“Do you wish I was 17?”

“No.” He means it and that catches you off guard. “I get two more years with you. I get to admire, guide, and nurture you as you grow.”

“I’m willful and hostile.”

“Yes. You refuse to let anyone think or speak for you. Society told you I was a monster and you told society to go fuck itself because you could gather your own conclusions. Everytime you’re a defiant pain in the ass I think about how your loyalty changed my life.” It's not very often that you are left speechless. “Okay, so…shower?”

Notes: Shout out to teardrop anon for reminding me to actually fucking post my chapters. Also thanks to Oreo for the endless encouragement <3 If you like my writing please support it by interacting with these posts!

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

#maneskin #måneskin #må #daminao #damiano david #damiano maneskin #maneskin damiano #damiano david x reader #damiano david imagine #damiano david fluff #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david angst #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin x reader #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #alpha and omega #alpha/beta/omega au

70 notes · View notes

my-rose-tinted-glasses · 5 months

Text

Welcome to Absolute Zero Day aka Yes, I'm still watching this show Day aka I'm dead inside Wednesday.

I am well aware that no ones cares anymore but sharing this is helping me keep my sanity through the show.

Here we go again…

FYI we are with the kids now.

One of them is telling the other one what will happen if they keep seeing each other. Really doesn't matter which one at this point. Just pick one.

One of them starts crying, now the other. Now they're hugging each other and crying.

I can't stand the music or the heartbeat sound anymore. I know it's suppose to elicit some kinda emotion on me but nope. I'm dead inside.

Now one of the adults is crying, if you guessed Soon you were correct. yawn Now we get to be reminded about Adult soon and young Ongsa. Yey.

More crying.

OK. Stop. I need to say this. The episode is at 18 min. But really 16 minutes because of the previous and the credits. Of those more than 6 minutes were crying. 6 MINUTES OF CRYING IN 16 MINUTES OF EPISODE. This might be some kind of record. (and yes I timed it because I knew it was coming and I might as well do something)

But wait... that's not all...

Cause there was not enough real time crying, let's have a flashback to the crying we saw not 10 minutes ago. Dead inside.

This is what? the 3rd time I'm watching Ongsa watching Love of Siam?? if they removed half the crying from this show I could've watched all these movies. if I stopped watching the show right now I could watch anything else.

Who the hell is grandpa? How does he know all this? And can he please tell us???

Well with only 2 more episodes left, I should hope so.

The letter still exists. I'm ignoring the paradox. I've abandoned all hope that this will ever make any sense. And we're back at the cinema and now with adult Ongsa.

Adult Ongsa is now crying.

So Adult Ongsa is just gonna ask everybody is they know a person named Suansoon? (if you're curious the answer is no) So now in this present, and by present I mean where we started this wonderful journey, 2018, they are not together.

Oh the amazing butterfly is back. Great. And next week they'll meet as adults. I can't wait.

(I just wanna say to whoever abandoned this ship early, like @lurkingshan and @bengiyo and I'm sure many others, you have my admiration and respect and I wish I was half as sane as you)

#rose rambles #absolute zero #thai bl

18 notes · View notes

kpchrs · 1 month

Text

15 questions for 15 friends

Thanks @burntblueberrywaffles and @realmermaid333 for tagging me weeks ago.

Are you named after anyone?

Nope.

When was the last time you cried?

Uhhh... Whatever days ago, I think, over a fanfiction HAHAHA

Do you have kids?

Nope. I don't know if I want to or not. I definitely wanna nurture one tho, and they don't necessarily have to be my own, if that makes sense.

What sports do you play/have you played?

I don't like sports, but I like badminton because it's a childhood game.

Do you use sarcasm?

Less than I should. I don't know why.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

I'm very disinterested in strangers when I really don't wanna socialise, so I don't really look at people, but maybe the voice since I can never ignore that.

What's your eye colour?

Brown. I love the colour brown!

Scary movies or happy endings?

That's a weird 'this and that' cus it's pretty different, but happy endings of course. I like scary films but only for the thrill not the story, cus the story usually doesn't intrigue me that much.

Any talents?

Hate that word, "talent", because it's a confusing word. Do you mean talent as in the natural aptitude of a person? In that definition, I think I'm pretty talented. I was one of the high achievers because I have a natural aptitude for studying. I know how to study and I comprehend things better than other kids. I'm a fast learner. My intuition is great. I can retain information well. I analyse things well. I'm lazy and easy to get bored tho, and that's why I was one of the high achievers. Related to that I would put languages as my talents. I'm pretty natural with it; English, Mandarin, Japanese, Korean... I absorb them as I go naturally. I learn English by myself. I remember most of what I learned from random medias. But because I never apply them (except for English), I'm not fluent at all. My piano teacher said I had a musical talent, and I did win a few piano competitions, and I passed Grade 8 ABRSM, but that's SO mediocre in the classical music world, I don't really think it counts. I have not even practised for years. I actually think I'm more natural at singing, but I never received formal training. And I'm sure there are more. These are pretty "eh", ain't it, because it stops at that?

If you mean talent as in skills, then my biggest skill is literature and story-telling. It's also one of my few passions. I don't say "writing" because that's still hard to do (especially if it's in English, it's not my native language), but I do learn in my own time, I know lots about it, and I still wanna learn more. This also applies to English. What's more? I'm pretty good at cooking, I guess. I'm not a master chef, but I can cook you dishes, definitely. The only thing that prevents me from cooking more is my lack of money. This is a soft skill, but I would put "organising" too. I love organising and I'm natural at it.

For me, talents should pair with effort and practice. People should strive to have more skills if they have the means! Because of that, I much prefer asking people what are their passions and I kinda dislike complimenting people with "you are so talented!" because nah, they practise a lot behind the screen and you just never see it! ...Wait a minute, what am I doing, writing a self-development book? 💀 This is supposed to be a fun thing. Uhhh...sorry, I really dislike the word "talent" xD

Where were you born?

I don't like saying it on the internet lol

What are your hobbies?

Reading stories (currently it's fanfiction), listening to music, window shopping, watching films and shows, playing games, relaxing in cafes, and eating. This is just random, but the happiest moments I can remember were when I first watched TBOSAS in the cinema and when I infodump my friend LiS on Discord in a cafe. Those are like last year and I want to feel that again.

Do you have any pets?

Yes, I have a dog and she's a supermutt and she's a rascal and her name is Marie and she's the reason why my pain tolerance is great.

How tall are you?

158cm. I should have been a little bit taller, but I think because of scoliosis, nah lol

Favourite subject in school?

None. School subjects were pretty boring... Okay, maybe English. I also liked Modern History.

Dream job?

I'm not good with high-stress and high-paced jobs. I'd love to be a librarian, but libraries are not appreciated at all here. Or I'd love to be a game writer too, with teams and a writer room, as such. I don't really know how it works. Some kind of game developer, but not the programming. Or I'd love to help people, especially kids, in whatever way.

No pressure + random tagging: @mitsuki91, @weer02, @-- uhhhh you know what, I'm BEYOND lazy to tag 15 people. Tag whoever who wants to play this! Or these two people I already tagged can tag the people I could have tagged xD

11 notes · View notes

messenger-of-stupidity · 1 year

Text

Thanksgiving

Happy late Thanksgiving to those who celebrated. If you didn’t, I hope you have a good weekend and enjoy the sales that are going around.

Also the Sweetheart thing was something my mom genuinely said to me yesterday. Yes I was concerned. But we watched it anyways.

Also if you want to learn about the darker side of Thanksgiving and don’t know it, read about the King Philip’s War. It’s kinda twisted that it wasn’t ever talked about in my history classes in elementary - high school.

CW: Fluff, Crack, Slight Angst but not really, David just wants to cook, Angel wants to help but not really help and complain later, Asher isn’t allowed in the kitchen, Baabe is a mastermind, Sam is Southern, Darlin doesn’t understand the purpose of Thanksgiving, Milo is just a lil boyo your honor, Sweetheart enjoys menacing comments, GN Listeners, not beta read or anything so pls ignore any and all typos ty and have a nice day

Redacted Masterlist

David shut off his alarm and rubbed his eyes, straightening out his spine to stretch it from the previous night’s rest. Angel still slept beside him, tangled up in the blanket with soft snores coming from their open mouth. He watched them for a bit with a fond smile for his mess of a mate. But he had a long list of things to go through before noon today, so he got up and looked around for a shirt to put on. He would probably wake Angel up in half an hour or so if they didn’t wake up on their own. But they didn’t need to be awake this early on their day off from work. He pulled on a random t-shirt before grabbing his phone and leaving the room after a kiss to Angel’s forehead. He went through his morning routine before going into the kitchen, water droplets still clinging to his hair.

He opened the fridge to stare at the large dead bird he had brining in there. Brining heightened the chances of growing bacteria, but Angel had insisted that it wouldn’t poison them because they had a superior digestive system, whatever the hell that meant. He grabbed the container to bring it out and place it into the sink. It was time to get to work, but he felt that rare urge of procrastination. So he grabbed his phone to see what his pack members were up to.

Sweetheart: Milo is overreacting.

Milo: I am NOT overreacting sweetheart. u just have to accept what you said is very concerning

Tank: whats going on

Sweetheart: I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

Tank: sam help i regret asking

Baabe: Oooh this should be good right puppy?

Asher: beef between my bf and his mate? duh

Sweetheart: Milo wont let me watch my favorite thanksgiving movie trilogy

Sam: I’m sure there’s more to it than that, if you don’t mind me saying. Also happy thanksgiving everyone.

Baabe: Awww! ty sam

Asher: yeah u 2 bud. are u doing anything fun for thamkgibbing

Milo: Sweetheart is cooking the turkey right now so they wont be able to explain how they need therapy

Tank: i need therapy after seeing the beta call thanksgiving that

Sam: I have a plan, but I need to check to see if someone is okay with it.

Tank: good luck with that

Sam: Darlin I was talking about you.

Tank: oh

Sweetheart: MILO WONT LET ME WATCH THE HUNGER GAMES SERIES

Asher: oh word?

Milo: Because thanksgiving movies are supposed to be comforting. You wanna share what you said to that with everyone sweetheart?

Sweetheart: The hunger games is comforting to me!!

Asher: ...

Baabe: ...

Sam: Oh dear...

Tank: Huh.

David turned off his phone with a snort before washing his hands and setting to work. It didn’t honestly surprise him that Sweetheart found the Hunger Games comforting. From what he had heard from Milo, the Stealth found all matter of typically disturbing media entertaining. And Tank was as oblivious as always. David expected that Sam would want to invite Tank to the Thanksgiving meal.

He heard the speaker in the kitchen sound to life and he glanced at it. He had bluetooth off on his phone, so either their neighbor connected or Angel was awake. It took a few moments before Doja Cat began blasting through the kitchen and David sighed. He loved his mate, but sometimes he wasn’t sure about their mental stability.

But he still let it play, trying to figure out which song it was. He didn’t really have a clue until a very iconic chorus showed up. And despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his lips.

“Can you kiss me more? We’re so young, boy. We ain’t got nothin’ to lose, oh-oh~” Angel popped into the room singing along with it before going over to David to put their arms around his neck, lips puckering. David simply smiled down at them, waiting patiently. It took a few moments before Angel’s expression soured into a pout.

“Come on, Davey. I used my words already. Gimme.” They were adorable, if a bit odd. But wasn’t that one of the reasons why he loved them?

“Playing a song doesn’t actually count as asking for a kiss, you little snot.” He replied, but relented anyways. Angel giggled into the kiss, which made it kind of awkward but he didn��t mind. It just meant they were happy, and his mate being happy sent a burst of warmth through him. “Now get off of me. We have to cook for the damn holiday.”

Sweetheart popped the spoon into their mouth, ignoring Aggro as he twined between their legs in hopes of making them drop something. Milo was standing on the other side of the apartment kitchen, his head shoved into the pantry as he searched for something. Sweetheart wasn’t entirely sure what, but they were content to let him continue. Especially since he had dissed their tastes in comforting movies. If they found watching the fall of a fascist government that killed at least 23 of their citizens every year, let them. And if it gave them hope that maybe DUMP wouldn’t overwork them one day, then so be it. Not that they would ever mention it to Milo.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you bought the marshmallows?” Milo asked, popping back up to look at his mate, who still held a spoon between their lips. They raised an eyebrow, silently asking for elaboration. They weren’t much of a talker, which was fine since Milo seemed to enjoy rambling to them. Unless it had to do with horror or their job. Then Sweetheart would talk endlessly. Or Milo tiddies. That was another one of their favorite topics. “For the sweet potato pie. It needs marshmallows or everything is all fucked up.” He explained.

Sweetheart gave the spoon one last lick before setting it down and stepping over Aggro to go search the pantry. Their taste buds lay with more savory foods, but they kept marshmallows for the colder days and hot chocolate. Or smores. Milo picked up the cat, Aggro rubbing his cheek along the line of the shifter’s jaw as Sweetheart searched.

“Tip toe, through the window. By the window, that’s where I’ll be. Come tip toe through the tulips with me.” They sang under their breath, their smile hidden from their mate. They could hear Milo’s nervous squawk and the soft meow of protest from Aggro.

“Sweetheart! You gotta stop singing cursed songs like that. Don’t ya know what happened to Tiny Tim after he sang that?” He said nervously. Sweetheart grabbed the bag of marshmallows from the lower shelf and stood up, turning to face him with a grin.

“Yeah. He died, painlessly I might add. If you ignore the whole illness thing and falling off a table.” They answered with a shrug before tossing the bag of marshmallows towards Milo. He put down Aggro quickly and just barely managed to catch them, if fumbling the catch a bit. Sweetheart giggled and went back towards the stove to continue stirring the gravy that sat inside, albeit with a new spoon this time.

Milo moved towards the counter next to them to start decorating the sweet potato pie, a content smile replacing the nervous horrified expression of earlier. Sweetheart didn’t know which one they liked better. It probably depended on the situation if they had to hazard a guess.

“Are you sure that David knows what you and Ash plotted?” They asked calmly. Milo shrugged and Sweetheart took that as a ‘no’. This would certainly be interesting then.

Darlin didn’t understand Thanksgiving. They knew why it was celebrated, according to the history books from school. Of course it wasn’t very often that the history books talked about the territory grab from the Wampanoag tribe, the illness that the colonists spread to them. And don’t forget about the King Philip’s War that killed 30% of colonists and half of the Native Americans in the dubbed New England. How did that end again? Darlin couldn’t remember the exact details, but they knew that the new leader was dismembered and the colonists had his head impale on a spike for display of the next 25 years. Yeah, their parents had been really happy when they decided to share that tidbit of information at a pack meal the day after Thanksgiving.

But here they were, headed towards their mate’s house to celebrate the holiday with him. Sam had told them not to worry about bringing anything because he was from the South and had probably made more food than he knew what to do with. Darlin suspected this was another way to make sure they ate enough everyday. But they weren’t going to turn down the offer.

Darlin knocked on the door before remembering that Sam had given them a key. They knew Sam had specially tinted windows so he could have the curtains open during the day and not have to deal with the sunlight, but they still made sure to keep the door open for as short of time as possible. They kicked off their boots, hands going into their pockets before going towards the kitchen. The smells surrounding them was almost enough to have them drooling though.

Sam stood in the kitchen, an apron tied around him and sleeves of his flannel rolled up as he put something inside of the oven and closed it. Darlin moved towards the island, taking a deep breath of the still steaming buttered rolls that sat there.

“Hey Darlin. I’m really glad you came.” Sam said softly as he walked over, rubbing his palms on the apron. Darlin reached towards the rolls, only to have the back of their palm lightly smack by Sam. They retreated their hand with an impish grin.

“You promised me food, cowboy. How could I turn that down?” Their response earned a chuckle from the Southern vampire as he pressed a quick kiss to Darlin’s cheek before returning to whatever he was making on the counter by the fridge. Darlin walked over, sniffing experimentally. It smelled strongly of cheese and pasta, so that gave them all the information they needed.

“That I did. But it doesn’t mean I’m about to let you spoil your appetite. We’re just waiting for the turkey to finish up, and that annoying green bean casserole. Honestly, I’m not that big of a fan of it, but my mother engraved the tradition of making it every year into me. So hopefully you’ll eat it.” Darlin moved towards the fridge as Sam spoke, pulling open the door. Three different types of pies. Why weren’t they surprised?

“You know I’m not that picky when it comes to food, Sam.” They responded as they closed the fridge to find an open counter space to sit on. Some kind of muffled music was playing from another room. No lyrics. It sounded kind of like lofi but... Southern-ized. Darlin didn’t know how else to describe it. Sam snorted as he nodded.

“Oh, I’m aware Darlin. The fact your fridge has more condiments than food points to you being more picky with what you put on your food than what food is there to begin with.” The shifter rolled their eyes as Sam laughed. They were pretty sure Sam was never going to let that go. They changed topics instead.

“Why are you making so much food if you don’t really eat food a lot to begin with?” They asked softly, unsure if it was the wrong thing to say. Sam shrugged, putting Darlin’s worries at ease. They didn’t know how he could do that, just a simple movement to calm them down so easily.

“Well if there’s leftovers, then you might as well take them home with you. I’ll have no use for them, and it’s better to use food up instead of let it rot.” He answered. Darlin wasn’t surprised. It had been a ploy to give them food. They should have known. “I should have asked earlier, but is your pack doing anything for Thanksgiving?” He asked. Darlin stifled a yawn, they had stayed up too late, and shook their head.

“Not really. Marie and David don’t see eye to eye on some of the cooking details and some of the others are visiting family in Ferris. I’m pretty sure Asher and his mate are going to crash David’s meal time. Maybe Milo and Stealth too. I’m not sure, I didn’t really ask.” Darlin left out that the last time the pack had gotten a pack-wide Thanksgiving was when Gabe was still alive. It wasn’t something they liked to talk about.

“Marie?” Sam asked curiously. Darlin clicked their tongue.

“Milo’s mom. You met her a couple times. She’s got that east coast accent too, gives off soccer mom vibes.” Darlin explained and Sam nodded, recognition sparking in his expression. He took off the apron a few moments later before moving toward his knife block and pulling one out.

“Do me the honors of carving up the turkey? It’ll be done in a few minutes.” Sam asked. Darlin nodded and got off the counter to take the knife. They paused a moment before looking at Sam quietly. He stayed quiet too, letting Darlin gather up their thoughts.

“Thanks for inviting me, Sam. It... means a lot.” They finally said. Sam smiled and kissed their forehead.

“Of course. The near whole damn point of today is spending time with family, blood related or chosen, and being thankful you’re able to.”

“Baabe! Come on! I said I was sorry!” Asher complained from where he sat on the floor. He was carefully on the other side of the plastic knives that lay out the end of the living room and beginning of the kitchen. Baabe stared at him from the other side, arms crossed over their chest.

“Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that you ate the fucking turkey, Ash!’ They replied. They had gotten the last turkey in the whole damn store and left it running under water to thaw before going out to run a few more errands. And in that time, Asher had decided to conduct the experiment to see if raw turkey eaten in his wolf form would taste better that roasted turkey eaten in his human form. So now it was the day of Thanksgiving and they were without a turkey. Sure, they could make ham or something, but they didn’t have that either. The two of them had gone through a busy week so neither had time to actually prepare for it.

“Okay okay, I get it. But what do we do now?” Asher whined, twirling a stand of his hair around his finger as he pouted. He had been banished from the kitchen after his stunt. And for good reason. Baabe paced along the length of the kitchen floor, thinking. They certainly couldn’t have Thanksgiving here. And they weren’t going to their parents house. Holidays with parents was a stress they weren’t going to take on right now.

“Is David doing a pack Thanksgiving or anything?” They asked, turning to face their mate. A shadow quickly passed over Asher’s eyes for a moment before he shook his head.

“Nah. It’s just him and his mate. Why?” Asher asked. Baabe sighed, tossing that plan out the window.

“If he was, we coulda just gone. But since he’s not, it’s not like we can just crash.” Baabe explained. Both of them stayed where they were, thinking. Slowly, a smirk spread across Asher’s face and he stood up, still not crossing over the plastic knife barrier.

“Unless we get an invitation.” He said slowly. Baabe looked at him, confused, and he continued. “We could ask his mate if we could come over and get an invitation from them. And because his mate invited us, Davey can’t turn us away.” Baabe paused before grinning and moving towards the knife barrier, kicking a few out of the way. Asher made a happy sound as he wrapped his arms around his mate’s waist to press a kiss to each cheek.

“Okay, but if we show up alone, David’s going to know something’s up. What if we invite Tank and Sam, and Milo and Stealth?” They asked. Asher shook his head.

“Tank’s having Thanksgiving with Sam. Plus it’ll be hard for Sam to get out of his house. But I can text Milo and ask him.”

✧༺𓃥༻∞

Asher rang the doorbell, a tub of whipped cream in hand. Baabe stood beside him as Milo and his mate stood behind them. The door opened to reveal David’s annoyed face.

“You all are scheming bastards.” He said before pulling the door wider open and stepping inside. Milo carried a sweet potato pie, decorated with marshmallows while his mate carried a container of gravy. They entered and Baabe stifled a laugh at all the fake turkey feathers that were thrown everywhere. Angel skipped over, a grin placed on their face.

“Happy Thanksgiving!”

97 notes · View notes

curious-zigzagoon · 10 months

Text

I want to know you. Pt. 2

Simon Riley x gender neutral reader

Warnings: none

(Your code name is fennec, like the fox :))

Summery: well you definitely got to know Simon better.

Would have written some more I think just didn’t know what to add, also didn’t wanna make it too long. But yeah I hope you like pt. 2 let me know your thoughts. (Respectfully please <3) (also I kinda proofread so plz ignore any errors)

Over the last few days he’s warmed up to me more. Following me closely wherever I go. Recently I’ve noticed this book he’s been reading in his spare time. “Ghost.” He cut me off. “I said you can call me Simon.” He said in a stern voice. “I’m sorry but I only know Ghost. Not Simon, remember?” “Right.” He groaned. “So Ghost, what are you reading?” “Oh umm East of Eden.” He stated in a low tone. I came closer to him and sat myself on the floor next to his chair. He looked nervous but pleased. “Read me something.” He looked down at me and I could see a small smile form under his mask, which made me smile. “Okay.” He opened the book up and seemed to search for a page he favored. He started. “A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will only have left only the hard, clean questions: was it good or was it evil? Have I done well-or ill?” I took it in for a moment, that And his deep, sultry voice. I don’t know him well but I will admit he is very attractive, at least what I have seen of him. “That’s beautiful Ghost. I suppose that is the question people need to ask themselves at the end of the day, especially people like us.” He looked down at me with his full undivided attention. “Yes, I wonder that sometimes, i'd like to think I’m doing the right thing, but who knows.”

Clearly this is something he thinks about. I can see it in his eyes that this question puzzles him and makes him think. For someone who wears a mask all the time, he still doesn’t seem to know that the eyes are the window to the soul.

During our days we spent countless hours tracking this ‘super important’ target, which he was but the way ghost talked about it while we were working made me laugh a little sometimes. He gets really hyper focused.

“Why are you giggling fennec? You need to be paying attention.” Ghost scolded.

“I’m sorry I am, it’s just funny watching you work sometimes it’s kinda cute.” I smiled.

“What?” The absolutely dumbfounded look he had on his face made me giggle.

“Will you please knock it off.” He said sternly.

“Yes I will, I’m sorry.” I smiled again trying to be serious. He turned his face away from me and started looking at the map on his little tablet, but I could see a small grin forming under his mask. It was pretty cute.

We did eventually find what we were looking for, this targets house. It took longer than we anticipated to find but we did. At this point we were ready to leave. I was hungry and tired, and ghost well he was being grumpy. That’s usually how he gets when he’s frustrated or tired. Something I had to get used to.

Later that night after dinner we had an actual conversation. Something I was NOT used to yet with him. At least when we weren’t working that is.

I sat down on the somewhat dusty old couch that was there, Simon sat across from me while he was working, trying to find some things out on our target. “Anything interesting?” I asked. He looked over at me. “No, not really.” “Damn.” I sighed. “Well why don’t you take a break then, there’s old movies down here and a tv. I was gonna watch one, do you want to?” He thought for a second. “Okay.” Is all he said. “You wanna pick one?” I asked. “No, you pick one.” He said, eyes never leaving me. Did I not notice this before? Has he always looked at me this much? “Okay.” I said standing and approaching the tv stand. I sat myself on my knees to look through the movies. As I sorted through them I could feel his gaze on me. Then I stopped at one movie. I held it up to him. “Ghostbusters?” I asked, smiling. He looked at the movie then at me. “Any reason in particular you picked this one?” He asked. “Uh no? I just like this movie.” I smiled again. “Fine.” Is all he said. I put the movie into the dvd player and sat myself down on the couch. Then I looked over at him still in the chair. “Why don’t you sit on the couch with me, so you can see the tv better.” He looked at me for a moment, and stood up. “Okay.” Is he nervous? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him nervous for anything. I watched as he approached the couch and sat down as far away as possible from me. So bold to confess, but too scared to sit next to me. He’s clueless. I just decided to start the movie and leave it be. After a while I scooted closer to him very slowly. I don’t wanna spook him, like a stray cat. Thankfully he didn’t really seem to notice or care. But eventually I was getting pretty tired. Sleep hit me hard. Id imagine I’ve been sleeping for awhile because when I opened my eyes again the credits were playing. I was laying on something, and that something was definitely ghost. I looked up and he was just staring at me, he quickly looked away and was still. “Oh shit I’m sorry Simon…” I caught myself preparing for him to scold me. But he didn't, he just sat still, saying nothing. I looked up at him, and smiled. “Oh that’s right I can call you that now.” He just nodded, still avoiding eye contact. I think was embarrassed that he got caught. I decided not to sit up. I just watched him for a moment and he finally looked down at me. He relaxed a bit when he did. I just looked into his eyes for a moment reading him so clearly. I could see just a hint of blush on his face that wasn’t covered by his mask. “ I wonder what’s hiding under there sometimes.” I touched his mask. He jerked back slightly. I pulled my hand away. His eyes softened. “Maybe one day you’ll know.” He said softly. I smiled. “I hope so.” I sat up slowly. “I really do wonder what you look like.” “Why?” He asked. “We’ll who wouldn’t Simon. There could be so many things hidden under that mask, and only you really know.” “Yes, I do. It’s nothing impressive.” “I might think it is. You could be the best looking man I’ve ever seen.” “Or the ugliest.” He said in a low tone. “I highly doubt that treasures are hidden for a reason.” “What do you think that reason is?” He asked. “People often take for granted what they didn’t have to work hard for to find.” “And you think that applies to me?” “I mean I guess so. You're like a locked box with an unknown key, so tangible but hard to get to. I think if I ever get to see who you really are in full that’s something I won’t take for granted.” He sat silently for a moment, his eyes softly looking at me. “I hope that’s how you really feel if you do ever find out.” “I think I will Simon.” We sat there quietly for a few minutes. Just taking in each other’s company. Before my drowsy mind started to hit me again. “ I think I need to go to bed Simon.” I said while stretching. “Yes, get good rest.” He stood up and held out his hand to me. I grabbed it and he pulled me up so I was standing right in front of him. He just stood there for a second looking at me, before letting my hand go. “Goodnight.” I smiled. “Goodnight Y/N.”

Over the rest of our stay he opened up a lot. He’s kind, and gentle when he wants to be. He tries but I think opening up still makes him nervous.

“So Simon, how do you like your tea?” He walked up behind me, his head peeking over my shoulder. “Lemon and honey, please.” He turned to walk away from me but I grabbed his hand to pull him back. “Show me how much so I don’t fuck it up in the future.” ‘In the future?’ He thought. “Alright.” I sat myself up on the counter next to the cups while I watched. “Only a little bit of honey, too much will ruin the flavor, same goes for the lemon,alright?” “Mhm, got it.” I hummed. I watched as he mixed in the slightest bit of honey, and just a tad of lemon juice.

When he was done he went to walk over to his chair to continue reading his book. “Wait Simon.” He stopped and turned back in my direction. “Yes?” I could see his brow rise from under his mask. “ I think I’ve made a decision.” He loomed a little closer and set his mug back down on the counter. “I’ve gotten to know you a lot better over the past few weeks, and we’re returning back to base tomorrow.” “Yes we are.” He came even closer. “And there’s a few more things I want to know about you before we go.” I said in a soft voice “Mhmmm.” “So I’m giving myself to you.” I say reaching my hand out to him. He grabbed my hand and moved so he was standing right between my legs. I came closer to his face and slowly lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his lips. I pulled him in for a kiss and he practically melted into me. He placed his hands on my thighs and squeezed them. I pulled away slowly before the kiss could progress. I could see the desire and need in his eyes, I could see it since he confessed but it was very prominent now. “There’s one more thing I want to know before we continue.” He nodded slowly. I placed a finger under his mask. He grabbed my wrist like he was going to pull away but he didn’t. “This, I want to know. I want to see. I won’t tell anyone, I promise you.” I could see his thoughts rolling around in his head before his attention returned to me. “Okay.” He looked afraid, but he was trusting me to do this. I took my time removing the mask. My excitement was building, I let him see my face long ago before he even confessed, but I had yet to see his. When I removed the mask I was in awe, he was so beautiful. He looked worried, maybe he thought I was disappointed. I traced my hands over the scars on his face, his eyes fell shut. “You are so handsome Simon.” He opened his eyes again looking so surprised. He hastily lifted me off the counter, slung me over his shoulder. “Hey where are you taking me?” I squealed. “My bed.” He said firmly. “What?” “There’s some more things I wanna know about you too.” He teased. It made me blush. “Oh, okay…” I trailed off. I didn’t even know how to answer that.

#ghost x reader #cod fic #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley x y/n #call of duty fic #ghost call of duty

23 notes · View notes

lalazeewrites · 1 year

Text

Am I writing a RomCom? Yes. Is it because I need to write something silly and fun because life is hard? Absolutely. Is this going to be ten chapters when I'm done? YUP.

For now, here is a sneak peekof my WIP! Where are they going? Why the hell are they going? Who will strangle the other first? This is me attempting the 'Year of the OTP' challenge, and January's prompt is FAKE DATING.

Mickey had not considered the fucking plane ride.

He had not considered a shit ton of things.

Like, for instance, how much Ian Gallagher can talk when strapped to a chair for hours with nothing better to do. At least in the past Mickey has always been able to walk away the second Ian gets all wordy and weird.

“Do you think we’ll see dolphins?” Ian asks as he leans across Mickey to peer out the window. Ian smells like Irish Spring and something equally green and zingy, bright and lively. Mickey hates himself for even noticing.

“What dumbass dolphin would swim near a giant ocean liner?”

Mickey slaps at Ian’s arm and back until he retracts to his own damn space. His shoulder brushes Mickey’s own anyway because his frame is honestly too big for these seats; same with the legs, all cramped up against the back of the seat before them.

Mickey peacefully stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankle, quietly thrilled that he can do what Ian can’t.

“I guess.” Ian glances down the aisle for no apparent reason. Smiles at someone who dares make eye contact with him. Looks at Mickey and smiles wider when Mickey also dares make eye contact. Jesus, this is going to be a trying trip. “Someone’s got a baby down the aisle.”

Mickey rubs at his eyes with thumb and forefinger.

“Why you keep pointin’ out babies to me, man? You pulled this bull the entire time we were at the airport! I don’t give a shit unless you’re planning a kidnapping, and in that case, I absolutely care, because I’m done with jail for the remainder of my life and I ain’t gonna be an accomplice to the crime.”

“I wonder if the baby’s ears hurt.” Ian has a remarkable ability to absolutely ignore anything Mickey says. He noticed this years ago at various get-togethers, but it’s a serious fucking problem now, more than ever. “Do yours? Mine popped. You have to yawn to do it, though.”

“I would be yawning if you’d shut the fuck up for a full five minutes!” Mickey fully embraces the menace that radiates from him as Ian’s eyes go a little big, his mouth clamping shut. “Watch a goddamn movie and let me rest, Gallagher. Ain’t this supposed to be my vacation too?”

Ian blinks, those wide, deep eyes briefly skimming Mickey’s face, down to the clenched hands upon his lap. His lips curve and shit, there are few things worse than a noisy Ian Gallagher, and it’s the one who likes to look at Mickey like they’re actually friends. Like they actually want to be here, together.

“You rest, Mick.” Ian dares pat Mickey’s tattooed forearm, all buddy-buddy. Mickey’s blood burns. “The cruise sets off at six tonight, so you’ll need your energy if we’re gonna party the night away.”

“Party the night away? You sound eighty.”

“I wanna be friends with any eighty year-old who wants to party like that.”

Mickey scoffs as he makes a show of rolling his jacket into a pillow to shove against the window.

“You would.”

Ian makes a sharp, frustrated noise, which shouldn’t be as gratifying as it is.

“Oh come on, I mention one time the dudes I dated—”

“Is it really dating if you were a teen and they were married?”

Ian aims a sour look at Mickey’s smug face.

“I thought you were sleeping now.”

“I’m fully preparing to pass the fuck away for life, yes.”

“Through force of will? Impressive.”

“Anything to get away from you, Gallagher.” Mickey heaves a sigh and shuts his eyes, snuggling his face into his jacket. Ian’s spring scent surrounds him and it’s not the worst thing ever. “Now shut the fuck up and don’t wake me ‘til we reach the land of of old folks homes and nightlife. Hold up—that sounds like your dream land!”

“Shut up. As if I could live in a red state.”

“I don’t even know what that means. Sleeping now.”

#gallavich #gallavich fic #lalazee words #does this have a title? no #is it already many chapters long and i simply haven't released it? yes #will anyone read it? i could not tell you #cruise fic

61 notes · View notes

harlequin-hangout · 1 year

Text

For a Mortal Chapter 2

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

Pairing: Dom!Loki x f!Reader

Warnings: Self esteem problems, self deprecation, ⚠️abuse (past, not from Loki)⚠️, minor breaking and entering

Contains: Angst, maybe a little fluff, brain not processing the literal god, descriptions of sensual fluffiness

Word Count: 2.2k

Dividers are made by me! Want some for yourself? Send me an ask!

I do not nor will I ever give permission for my writing to be copied, pasted, reposted to other sites, or edited in any way shape or form. Seriously, just don’t.

A/N: Chapter 2!! This was inspired by this ask by @michelleleewise. This is my first attempt at writing any kind of fan fiction, so please be kind. Thank you so much to @vbecker10 and @soubi001 for all the help with this chapter!! I'm so sorry that it took so long, inspiration hasn't been showing its face for this series.

You groan, hearing the all-too-familiar 10 am alarm blaring next to you. Why you had never turned off that damned alarm, you’d never know. It’s not like you had anything to do that day, but it wasn’t good for your mental health to stay in bed. Turning off the alarm, you stare at the ceiling. Did last night really happen? It couldn’t have . . . right? Magic, gods, teleportation . . . it couldn’t exist in real life. That was ridiculous. . . wasn’t it? You haul yourself out of bed, gingerly pressing the bathroom door open. Everything was just as you’d left it. Clothes were strewn all over the floor and a combination of makeup and sanitary products littered the counter. Notably though, where you remembered placing a pine scented green candle last night was only a few drops of green wax. You stare at the empty counter space, ignoring your phone when it starts to ring. How was it gone?? Did Loki take it back? How were you supposed to contact him again? You sigh and rub your eyes, already wanting to crawl back into your bed. Last night was definitely too good to be true. Your phone began to ring again, Caller ID showing your friend Sobhana – Soubi for short – on the screen.

“Mmmh . . . Morning . . .” you groan.

“Hey! Someone sounds like she had a long night,” Soubi teased.

“Something like that . . . Either that or I’m losing my mind. What’s up?”

“Val and I were gonna grab something to eat at that Thai place you like. Wanna come?”

“Thank you so much for thinking of me, Soubi, but I don’t have money to eat out. I’d love to see you guys though, would you want to come hang out later today?” You heard Soubi laugh a little on the other end of the line.

“Don’t use your customer service apology on me. Did I ask if you had money? I got you, we’ll meet you there at 11:30. Sound good?” Soubi stated, leaving no room for arguments. “You can repay me by filling me in on all the work drama. I swear, that boss of yours gets dumber every time you tell me about him.” You burst out laughing. She wasn’t wrong. Every time you talked to Darren Albright, the stories got more and more unbelievable.

“Deal, and this weekend I’ll make you and Val some of that baked mac and cheese. We can have movie night at my place.”

“Movies sound great! I’ll always brie up for them, even if you pick the ones that are pasta-tively cheesy.” You could practically hear Soubi’s grin as you groan at her awful puns. She had more puns ready for any situation than anyone you’d ever met, and you absolutely adored her for it. Plus, two can play at that game.

“I better get ready, or I’m Ghouda be late.” You poke back at her, only lasting a couple moments before dissolving into giggles. “Yeah, no, that was bad. Yours was so much better! I’ll see you at 11?”

“You’ll get on my level one day, see you then!” Soubi hung up with a click, and you were left to search your closet for something clean to wear.

You hadn't said much since you’d arrived at the restaurant. If Val and Soubi noticed, they hadn’t said anything so far. You mumbled your thanks as the waiter set the plate down in front of you, taking a deep breath before letting out a sigh.

“Y/N, you’re really quiet. That isn’t like you, what’s going on?” Val spoke up from across the table, concern in her eyes.

“It’s just . . .” You take another deep breath. “So, I might be going crazy. I had this . . . this dream, I guess? I dunno. I wouldn’t really call it a dream, it was so vivid, I could have sworn it was a memory, but I’m not sure what else to think.”

“Well, what’s going on?” Soubi inquires from your left. “If there’s something weird going on, you can always tell us.”

“Okay . . . Well it started after Darren called me last night.” You spent the next thirty minutes filling your friends in on the previous evening’s crazy adventure. From the candle to the shower, to the almost – almost – platonic domination. “He didn’t even push for sex! Like I said, it’s like he could watch my memories . . . he knew exactly what I liked, but also what to avoid in order to make sure I was comfortable.”

“Wait, after all of that you didn’t fuck him??” Val almost screamed, and you had to fight back a giggle when she realized that people were looking.

“No! We talked for a while, there was some gentle hair pulling while we made out, but he didn’t try anything unless he asked first or I initiated. I’m sure it would have been amazing if we had, though . . . I wonder what it would be like to fuck a guy who knows exactly what I want.”

“Sounds like an in-depth knowledge of sin and temptation are in your future and this god person is there to give a self guided tour.” Soubi’s comment almost made you blow soda out of your nose, and you take a few minutes to stop yourself from choking. Val was the first to regain control of her laughter.

“Soubi’s got a point though,” Val stated, wiping a tear from her eye. “He sounds too amazing to have been anything other than an imagination.”

“See, that’s what I thought at first, but there’s these little green droplets of wax where the candle used to be.”

“Used to be?” Val raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, no. That’s really weird.”

“I mean, that’s physical evidence. That definitely means SOMETHING was there.” Soubi’s eyebrows creased. She wasn’t ready to say it yet, but she was definitely getting worried. “Do you have any makeup that could have left it? You accidentally melted that lipstick while trying to fix a break in it a while back.”

“You have a point, but I’m absolutely certain. I don’t own any makeup that color, and it was the exact same green with the same pine scent lingering. I have absolutely no idea what else it could be. I think I may be going crazy . . .” Your gaze drops to the table. You really didn’t want to admit it, but there was no other explanation. Some kind of psychotic break was the only logical explanation.

“Crazy, nothing, I’m worried that someone has been in your apartment.” Soubi muttered under her breath. “If someone was in your place, that’s really dangerous. They could have laced your food with stuff, or even the candle somehow. A hallucination would explain the god man appearing in your bathroom.” You glance at Val out of the side of your eye.

“I mean . . . It’s totally possible, but we still love you. I think you’re fine though honestly, you’ve been going through a lot lately, especially with your crappy job. I’m sure your mind is just looking for a way to deal with it while you're sleeping. Maybe get some extra locks though?” You smile softly, grateful to have friends with your best interest at heart.

“Yeah, extra locks seem like an amazing idea. But speaking of my crappy job . . . I believe I promised Soubi an update. Darren called me yesterday to tell me that I haven’t been doing anything for the company.”

“What??” Soubi hissed. “Didn’t you build an entirely new backend to make intake smoother?”

“Yup.”

“And you do all the upkeep on it, right?”

“All by myself, I don’t know if he even knows how it works.” A wicked smile creeps across Val’s face.

“You should quit. It isn’t like he’s paying you anyway. Just quit and wait for him to come crawling back to you when he realizes how much you actually do.”

“As satisfying as that could be, he’s an Albright, he might make sure that I never work in the film industry again, and I’ve worked way too hard to get here.”

“Do you really think he’d do that?” Val inquired.

“Well . . . no, not really, but I also think that if I walk, I’m never getting my job back. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am, and if I step out of Darren’s company on terms like this, then I can’t use him as a reference. I’ll be back to square one . . .”

“Hey, look at me?” Soubi asks. “ You won’t be starting from square one. You’ll be starting from experience. I’ve seen you grow so much over the past year and a half, especially after you finally cut off contact with your ex. We’re going to support you no matter what.” You beam, taking a deep breath and feeling a moment of peace for the first time in the last couple months. Your life had become so hectic, but Val and Soubi had remained your constant. As long as you have your friends, you can get through whatever this curveball turns out to be.

Your laptop dings with the fifth email from Albright. Even though he accused you of not doing anything, you still seemed to be getting a lot put on your plate. You look over the new client application, grabbing your mug of hot chocolate from your side table. The application was for a new marketing client, and they were only asking for a basic social media consultation and re-do of their old logo. You sip your mug as you spend the next few hours going over the company site and social media, compiling a list of suggestions and replying to Darren’s email with your recommendations. By midnight, you had sorted through all the new clients and organized materials for the current client, plus re-worked part of your backend system to make finding client information easier. You stand, making your way to the kitchen. After depositing your empty mug in the sink, you grab a cup of water to take with you to bed. Today has been hard, but you won’t let it get the better of you.

The next two days passed without anything of note happening. Your days are mostly spent messaging the group chat with Soubi and Val (Soubi has nicknamed it My Taste in Buds a while back) and job applications. You needed income from somewhere, and Darren wasn’t cutting it. Coffee shops, restaurants, and even some retail stores had been checked off the list, but it was Saturday and you weren’t likely to hear anything back on the weekends. You close your laptop and head to the bathroom. A hot, steamy shower sounds like the most amazing thing right now.

The water pours over your skin and the steam fills your lungs. You’d finished washing ages ago, but it was nice to take a moment to breathe. In here, nothing could bother you. Not Darren, not bills, not unanswered job applications. You could stay in your little bubble and pretend for just one moment that everything was okay. You’d been able to sit with the events of your dream, and process. Val was right, this was probably your brain rationalizing. The human brain is such an amazing thing, it never stops working. It probably took spots of stuff on your counter and the amount of smut that you read and turned it into a coping mechanism while you slept. You had to admit, it had been nice. His slender fingers sliding through your hair. The gentle way he spoke. His voice had been both masculine and ethereal. Both commanding and comforting. The way he had spoken to you after he pulled you away from your shower . . . The softness wasn’t something you were used to. You barely knew the man – god, if he was to be believed – but he was more considerate of your wants and your needs than anyone you’d ever dated. Hell, most of the people who called you a friend didn’t seem to care. Outside of Val and Soubi, it seemed that most people kept you around because of things they thought that you could do for them. It made perfect sense that your brain would supply a tall, dark, and elegant man with a voice as smooth as velvet to help meet the needs in your life that were left unfulfilled. You spend a few more moments reminiscing on the dream, focusing on how his hands felt on your skin as his lips brushed yours, waiting for you to close the last breath of space between the two of you instead of just taking what he wanted. He was too good to be true, and almost definitely couldn’t exist outside of a dream. You toweled off, wrapping that towel around yourself before reaching to grab another for your hair. You pause, sniffing the towel. Something didn’t smell right . . . It wasn’t the towels, and it wasn’t the clothes you had piled on the floor . . . You grabbed the knife that you kept in your bedside table for protection and quietly made your way towards the living room and the front door. As you stepped out of the hallway, you stopped dead in your tracks. You recognized the scent, but what was it? You take stock of your apartment. Everything seems to be in place, the door is locked, the windows are closed . . . What could that smell be? Then it hits you. It’s leather. Leather and sandalwood. And sitting on the side table next to your laptop is a familiar green pine tree scented candle.

Tag List: @sititran @lokixryss @vbecker10 @vickie5446 @soubi001 @ozymdias

41 notes · View notes

joe9cool · 2 years

Text

COLLIDE-JUSTIN HERBERT- 6

TW: Mention of suicide. Just the word, also no hate to any real life people. This is just a work or fiction.

shit.

Shit.

SHIT.

Justin was freaking out. What should he do? Should he tell his parents they should cancel their flight? He couldn’t do that, they would ignore him anyways and he knew she would never admit it, but his mom was losing her mind. This was his first major injury at the NFL level, and he was in alot of pain.

But that also left the question of Sara, she was staying at his house. What was he supposed to do about her? He didn't want her to leave, but he wasn’t sure that they were ready for that step. I mean they haven’t even had a talk about what this meant. Now she is going to be meeting his parents?

He wondered how he was going to navigate this situation, he didn’t think his injury was serious for his parents to come from Oregon, his parents had lives, jobs, and friends. Not to mention Patrick was still living with them. They had enough on their plates, they didn’t need to come down just for this.

He went through the rest of the tests in a daze, so much so that he didn’t realize how much time had passed, or there was a knock on the door.

Mike came in, Sara right behind him holding his bag. Mike had a shit eating grin. “I ran into your girl as she was going to drop off something."

She held up his bag, " I was just going to give it to Mike but he insisted that he take me to you."

The team doctor was starstruck, “I'm not trying to be unprofessional here, but its very nice to meet you.” He shook Sara’s hand. “My daughter is a huge fan of the show, and your acting in general. Would you mind if I took a picture for her?”

Sara blushed. “Um sure.” The doctor passed his phone to Mike and he took the photo, not realizing that Justin was glaring at her the whole time. After the photo was taken, Sara wanted to leave. Detecting that Justin wasn’t happy about her presence but Mike wasn’t having it. He wrapped his arm around her. “Naw see we gotta introduce you to the guys that are here! You’re telling me Herb has been keeping you a secret all this time and now you wanna leave?”

Justin tried to interfere. “Mike. Stop”

Mike brushed him off, continuing his hold on Sara. “Naw man you finally get a girlfriend, and you tryna hide it! And look at that ,a famous movie star!” He looked at Sara “Did you know Herb had no intention of calling you after you gave him your number!”

Sara smirked at Justin. “Oh I’m sure I was the one that called him”

Mike busted out laughing. “I fucking knew it.” He slapped Justin on the thigh. “I bet Ekeler $50”

Justin’s face paled “Wait Ekeler knew?”

“Hell ya man! You ain’t that slick, we all knew you were seeing someone. Hey, I am happy for you guys. Make a cute couple,” He walked out. “Hey Sara, you need to come to one of our Brisket days.”

He left, leaving the Doctor, Justin, and Sara alone. The doctor decided to check on some results leaving the couple alone.

“I was going to text you to let me know when you are here I could have discreetly picked it up.”

She shrugged. “I was trying to message you, I was looking around for security and Mike spotted me. I am sorry”

“Its fine. Hey listen” He scratched the back of his head. “I got a text from my parents that they are en route from Oregon.”

Sara sighed. “I guess that means I should be-”

“You can still stay with me.”

That stunned her into silence “Sara?”

“Wow. Are you sure? I mean I would love to meet them but what does this make us?” She had to put it out there. It was driving her crazy not to know what this was. They had been dancing around the subject for a few months.

Justin looked around. Now was not the time to be discussing this “Let’s talk later, I don’t think this is the place.”

Sara nodded. “Okay, but I am not going to forget about this.”

They were interrupted by a knock. The doctor poked his head in “Um Justin? We have the results ready.”

“Okay I have to go, I’ll pick my parents up from the airport when I am done here. See you at home.” He got up and left with the doctor.

Sara smiled like a schoolgirl

He said “See you at home.”

“Come meet my parents”

They did have to have the talk but right now none of that matters. She had to impress the people who made the man she loved.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A fucking rib cartilage fracture.

“You will be put as day to day” Coach Staley said. “We will be giving you a few days to rest and recover.”

“How long will recovery be in general?”

“Months, I would recommend missing a few games.” Justin and Staley both shook their heads no. “No way, this season is too important.”

“Justin, we don't want any long term damage. You’re taking a big chance if you continue to play like this. Its going to be really uncomfortable.”

Staley stepped in. “Look, we have a few extra days. Justin, go home and rest, spend time with your family. We will check back in on Monday. “

The doctor had prescribed painkillers for him to take and bandage wraps for his midsection. He warned Justin that sneezing, coughing, and laughing would be painful for some time.

Justin went to the pharmacy to pick up the stuff he needed before heading to the airport to pick up his parents. As he was waiting in the pick up area, he was trying to figure out how he was going to make this speech. He was also wondering if his parents knew who she was, he would like to think they are hip. However, they are still his parents and used to actors and actresses from their generation. He can recall he and his family in theaters when Bohemian Rhapsody came out.

It was funny, because he never gave that movie a second thought, but now that he is dating the person that was Freddie Mercury’s love interest he might have to watch it again. He broke free from his thoughts when he got a text from his dad saying they had arrived. He placed his porsche in park and put on his mask so he didn’t get recognized

It didn’t take long for him to see his parents coming towards him, considering they have been there so many times. “Justin!” His mom reached out for a hug but stopped herself as she remembered the reason she was in town. “Oh I’m so sorry baby. How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. "Fine as can be." After they were all settled and in the car Justin told them the complexity of the situation. After a quick silence he decided to break the news. "So listen I actually have a friend staying with me right now. I was going to text you and say not to come down because I was covered but."

"Oh? A teammate?" Holly questioned.

"Um no"

"Someone else came from Oregon?" He smiled. His parents knew he didn't have any friends outside of his teammates in LA.

"No it's actually someone I've been seeing." The air got sucked out of the car. Justin saw in his peripherals that his dad turned around to face his mom in the backseat. "Mom. Dad?"

"I had no idea you were seeing anyone. Is it new?" Holly was the first one to ask questions.

"Well it's been a few months."

"A few months huh? And she's already staying with you?" Justin knew what his mother meant by that. She was protective of her sons and she wasn't stupid. Once word got around that her son was going pro, girls started to surround him. Her other son Patrick was going through the same thing. Girls would do anything if it meant they became the girlfriend or wife of an NFL player.

"Mom, it's not like that. She makes more money than me." He didn't know her exact net worth, but he had overheard conversations with her banker and investors and wow.

His dad finally spoke up. "What does she do?"

"She works in the entertainment business."

"Oh like on sets?"

Justin smirked "I guess"

"Well that's great sweetie. We can't wait to meet her." He could tell his mom was still hesitant. He didn't introduce them to girls. The last one being in high school.

By the time they arrived and Justin unlocked his door he could smell food and sweets. Sara came around the corner with a bright smile on her face. However he knew her too well. She was twisting the ring she usually wore on the forefinger. It was a habit that she did when she was extremely nervous.

"Hello Mr. And Mrs. Herbert. I'm Sara" she stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Sara, nice to meet you. Please we are Mark and Holly. "

She smiled. "I made dinner, and there's cookies in the oven. I had no idea you guys were coming in."

Holly smiled. "We usually don't, but I was so worried seeing him on the field like that. I thought he would need help. But apparently not."

Sara reached their bags, ready to put them in the guest room but Mark insisted they could do it.

Holly remarked. "If I had known about you.

I would have brought out the photo album."

Sara felt a pang. "He didn't tell you?"

"No, he is very private even with us. So I'm not too surprised." Sara looked out to where Justin and Mark were standing

"I haven't said anything to my parents. So I can't say anything." She confessed.

"Really? Private as well "

Sara was surprised that she would spill information to basically a stranger. "My parents are somewhat wealthy snobs. Corporate careers only matter. My sisters and their husband's are all basically business and law school graduates and there's me."

"Justin said you worked in entertainment."

Sara smiled. "I'm an actress." Holly clapped her hands together. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere! You were in Little Women!"

"Yes, and a few other films."

"Is everyone getting along?" They looked over to see Justin and his dad heading in. Justin looked nervous.

Holly smiled. " Everything's great."

Justin was suddenly distracted by the huge edible arrangement on the counter with a teddy bear. "What's this?"

At the mention of the fruit Sara's mood soured. "It came while you were gone. I don't know who it's from there's a card though."

One of the good things about acting is that she could hide her emotions once she processed them. She had more than enough time to process this.

The bear was holding a heart that said 'get well soon' which peaked her interest when the delivery guy dropped it off.

She knew that she had no right to look at the card in the envelope but it wasn't sealed. As Justin looked out the card she knew exactly what that fucking card said.

'I'm always here for you. Miss you

Your Tay Bae

She watched his face out of the corner of her eye. He seemed neutral as he ripped up the card.

"Justin!" Holly scolded. "That's rude! Who sent that nice arrangement?"

"The O-line sent it. Trying to mess with me by sending the bear." He rolled his eyes.

Sara wanted to punch him

One of her flaws was that she was a very jealous person. Obviously dating someone with a fan base involves female fans getting out of hand. She dealt with that with Harry.

But this.. this was something else.

Who the fuck was Tay?

"Sara"

She made sure to keep record of the name

"Sara."

He wouldn't be stupid enough to follow this bitch on instagram

"Sara!" She snapped out of her daze to find the group looking at her. "Huh?"

"I said something smells good." Mark laughed as she flushed bright red. "You were spacing out."

"I'm so sorry, where are my manners. Yes I made a spinach mancotti." She took the food out of the warmer. Justin began to pull out plates.

Dinner was a hit. Sara loved his parents, they were easy to talk to. They asked about her career and how she got started. Justin realized he didn't even know the answer to these questions and he started to feel bad about not really asking her about her career. She was so invested in him that he didn't even pay attention to hers.

The card seemed to be forgotten as everyone ate, dessert and coffee was served. Holly and Mark couldn't stop complimenting her cooking skills.

"I took culinary classes in high school and college. I was always more drawn to the arts rather than sports."

"Oh god it's so nice to hear that. My family is sports obsessed and so am I. It's just nice to discuss some other topics.

After dessert Justin and Sara cleaned up while his parents sat outside on the patio. She insisted on them not helping with nothing and relaxing.

Unbeknownst to the couple in the kitchen. The elders were watching him

"That kinda reminds me of us when we were younger. " Mark remarked to his wife as he saw his son pinch the brunette's butt as she swatted at him laughing.

"Who would have known he found someone? You know he did not discuss football or the game once since we met her." Holly smiled and took a sip of her drink. "Who would have thought?"

"I don't think I've seen him like this with anyone."

They watched as Justin looked at Sara while she was wiping down the counter. He was staring at her like a love struck boy. It was adorable to see.

Before too long the couple joined them and they spent the rest of the night talking. Around 10:30 Holly and Mark went to bed.

Soon after, Justin and Sara headed up to his room. Sara helped him out of his clothes and switched out his wrapping. After he was done and laying in bed Sara did her night routine. When she walked out of the bathroom she saw him reading.

"I'm going to turn this light off since you have your nightstand on." She turned off the overhead ones.

"If you need anything I have my phone up. Goodnight babe." She was about to head to the living room when he called out.

"Uh where do you think you're going?"

She looked confused. "I'm sleeping on the coach. It pulls out."

He rolled his eyes. She was silly If she thought she was going to sleep on the coach. "Um I know it pulls out, I bought it."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Get your cute ass on this bed." He patted the spot next to him.

"No way, you said I'm violent in my sleep. I'm not risking you getting hit."

"I didn't say 'violent' I said 'move around too much. Difference" He smirked.

"Don't change it. I remember it clearly as day. 'Gosh Sara you're violent.'" She mimicked his voice.

He laughed then let out an 'Ow as he held his rib.

"See I already did enough damage. Goodnight."

She left the room, and Justin was left pouting. The whole point of her being there was to sleep with him. Not sexually, well maybe a little sexual. He liked that physical connection. He liked closeness, it was embarrassing to admit but he and Sara tried cockwarming a few times and he had become obsessed with it. It would usually lead to sex, but if it didn't he would be content with that.

After a while of reading, he fell asleep.

—--------‐—-------------------------------------

Sara waited til she heard the snoring from his room. Then she investigated.

She put her brightness on low, then went to the first place she thought of

Instagram.

She was going to log into her personal account. The one that only followed family and close friends but she thought against it. She went into her fan page account. It wasn't to actually have a fanpage for herself, it was to snoop on people and other things. See what they were saying about her.

Clicking on Justin's profile she went to his following. The first thought that ran through her head was the name

Tay Bae.

Tay is usually a shortened version of Taylor. Let's start with that. She put in the name Taylor.

11 results. Most of the names were guys, except for two.

There was taylor who was a sports dietician that was private. Then there was Taylor Biscotti.

She was a sports reporter for the Chargers and NFL analyst. She was blonde, pretty the usual nightmare for girls like Sara.

But that didn't prove anything. But then she thought about the conversation she and Bella had in the kitchen.

Everyone has a past, why is he so private?

She didn't Google Justin's personal life. She swore she would never do that. Anyone can do that and make assumptions. Hell people have done that to her.

But now she had to get to the bottom of this.

Going into Google Images she typed in

'Justin Herbert and Taylor Biscotti'

The first photos were interviews they had done together but the caption on one of them caught Sara's eye

Justin Herbert in lowkey relationship with NFL-

Upon clicking the article, she was going to be sick.

Justin Herbert is in lowkey relationship with Taylor Biscotti

The two were spotted out and about the Irvine area after picking her up from the airport.

She took a deep breath, okay maybe this is an old article. She looked at the date.

June 15th 2022.

She searched again and stumbled upon an interview she did with him on Twitter last season. To the normal person it would seem like a normal interview. But she knew Justin, she knew his body language and his facial expressions. In the comments there were some crude ones about them. Remarks about Herbert getting interviewed by his girlfriend.

"You motherfucker" She whispered.

Sara liked to see the best in people she really did. However being an overthinker overruled that.

Maybe he ended it once they started dating. But why the fuck would she send that expensive arrangement? She kept deep diving. She found some blogs that speculated due to their careers it was just a hook-up and nothing serious. But again who the fuck sends a hookup something like that?

Also another thing bothered her.

"Both reps were reached out for comment but no return."

Now if nothing was going on why wouldn't they deny it.

Sara liked to hurt herself so she went back to Taylor's page. Her most recent post about the NFL being back and she was rooting for the Chargers made her angry. Torturing herself further, She looked at the comments.

Gorgeous

Beautiful Taylor

Go Chargers!

Justin is a lucky man!

You still seeing Herb?

She couldn't handle it. She logged out and deleted her search history.

She locked herself in the furthest bathroom and stifled her crying.

Is this why he didn't want to follow her? Why was he so private? Was he protecting her feelings?

What about her feelings? It was at that moment that she came to the Realization that she was falling in love with him.

Maybe she was being overdramatic. Maybe it was just a hookup and they were cordial. They work together and Justin doesn't like awkwardness.

She calmed herself down by coming to that conclusion and splashed cold water on her face. Now was not the time to bring this up. Not with his parents here and him being injured.

She headed back onto the couch. Just as she was about to drift off she felt herself being pulled against something. "What the-"

"Shhh" She felt kisses on her neck and she settled down. "You're supposed to be sleeping." She tried to keep the bite out of her voice.

He didn't seem to notice. "I can't sleep without you. I miss you."

She tried to get out of his arms. But despite his injury, his good side still had more power than him. "Stop fighting me" He growled. He tried a different approach. "You're gonna risk hurting me and we can't have that can we?" He continued kissing down her neck and sucked on the spot that got her going. She held back a moan

He was being so cuddly and clingy. She had to ask "did you take a pain pill?"

She felt him nod. She felt herself nodding off again. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to hear what came out of Justin's mouth

He whispered. "I'm crazy about you."

And in that moment, all was forgotten.

—------------------------------------------------

The rest of the weekend went great. Holly and Mark got to know Sara more. She tried to back off and allow his parents to spend time with him. She kept herself busy on the phone with her publicist trying to go over specifics over next month's darling premiere. Justin and his parents were at the training facility going over his treatment plan before he dropped his parents off at the airport.

"Oh by the way." Her publicist Heidi was an older woman with sharp tendencies. To many people she came off as a bitch. But the truth was she knew the business like the back or her hand and didn't want to see her clients get caught up on the wrong side. "What are you doing in Irvine?"

"Huh?"

"I was scrolling at your tag on Twitter. There was a guy posting a pic of your autograph, saying you refused a picture."

"Oh! Yes I was grocery shopping and I didn't want to get recognized. " hoping that she bought the lie.

"In Irvine?"

"Yes, I'm sort of taking a break, plus one of my friends from college lives there so I was staying with them for a few days."

Heidi didn't seem to think anything of it as she changed the subject. "Also Mr. Styles' team requested that you two take a photo on the carpet together at the premiere."

Sara was confused. "Why would he want that?"

"Beats me, but he is pretty consistent. This could be a big opportunity for you two. Maybe a big reconciliation. An interview where you say you want to work together? This could be big Sara, if rumors start that you two might get back together this will blow up!"

'Except I'm over Harry and don't want to be in the press with his name' She thought to herself. She took a deep breath. "Heidi I don't want to be associated with rumors that aren't true. It would just be a lie, I'm not saying I could never be cordial again. It's just I can't see anything past that."

She heard a sigh of disappointment. "Okay well its something to think about. You two would be the ultimate power couple. The press, your fans would go nuts!"

"Yeah I'm not too sure." She heard the front door open and she was grateful for the distraction. "Hey can you text me? I got to go." Sara hung up before Heidi could respond. She looked over at Justin.

"Parents on plane?" He nodded. He seemed nervous. "What?"

"Can you help me shower?" He took off his cap and ran his hand through his greasy hair.

She laughed. "Why are you so shy? I've seen you naked so many times." He flushed even redder, making her laugh even harder. "Come on, let's go."

She set up a bath for him since she would have to wash his hair and it would be too hard for him to stand up.

She got all of her products out. He had too nice of hair to be using patene. She did a bubble bath and turned on the jacuzzi jets.

Once she stripped Justin she undressed to her underwear. At his raised eyebrow she shrugged. "I don't want my clothes wet."

He slowly lowered himself in the water, groaning at how good it felt, Sara sat up on the ledge on the tub behind them. She guided him to lean his head back. She rinsed his hair before lathering up the shampoo. Making sure she was massaging the scalp as well. "God that feels so good." He moaned which made her smile. She did a couple washes, while rinsing his hair of the suds she remarked. "You have such nice hair."

"It's getting long again. I need to cut it."

"Just a couple inches. A little cleanup." She heard Justin start laughing. "What?"

"You wouldn't like it if I buzzed it off like last time.

She pulled back. "You mean you buzzed off all of it! When?"

"Give me my phone." She got up and handed him the iPhone on the bathroom counter.

After a few minutes of searching he showed her the 2020 photo. She was silent "Babe"

She snapped out of whatever daze she was in and looked at the photo. Immediately she burst out laughing. "You look like a cadet! Fresh out of high school and all!" She said between giggles.

Justin had to defend himself. "Hey! It wasn't that bad!"

"Yes it was!"

"So if I came to your place one day with this cut. You would break up with me."

She pretended to think about it. "I wouldn't say break up. Maybe some space til it grows back. Which lucky for you it does. "

After the condition and some help with body washing :which came with some innuendo) the pair dried off and began to look for a snack. She was about to open up the chips and salsa when she saw Justin throw out the edible arrangement. Bear and all.

"Aren't you going to eat that? The team payed alot of money for that." She couldn't hide the smile that came across her face.

"Naw it's old."

They continued looking around for snacks. Finally Sara had an idea. "Let's go out"

"What. Where?"

"I know a place, trust me it's very private. I know the owner." Justin was hesitant. "Please trust me." She grabbed his hand and she saw him have an internal struggle before he said. "Okay"

After locking up, she led him to her car with tinted windows, the sun was almost down and once they reached their destination. After a quick phone call she began to drive.

As the city lights passed them by, Justin was staring into Sara's profile. She was stunning, and cute when she was focused.

He meant what he said when he said he was crazy about her. Again it had only been a few months but he had never felt so…. Alive. Normally he would be watching game videos. This weekend was about rest and he had done that. The team had told him it was all about pain management going forward and that he should be able to play against the Jags.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't pay attention to the radio playing or that she was singing beautifully to the song.

"You sing?"

She smiled. "You forget I was a theater kid. I had the lead role in musicals. I was on the drama team in college."

He actually didn't forget. " So you would have hated me in high school."

"You were the star quarterback, you and your teammates would have bullied me."

"I wasn't like that. You watch too many movies with that trope."

Sara was silent for a bit. "I lived it." She said softly.

"Huh?"

"I was bullied alot. My older sisters were all athletic and smart. I was smart, but not athletic and I was constantly compared to them. Even By my own family. I've dealt with it. It still hurts, especially this industry. Sometimes I still feel like I'm in high school when any guy I showed interest in chased after skinny blonde popular girls."

She continued "and that's fine, everyone has a preference, it's just hard when you never were anyone's preference."

"I'm sorry."Justin didn't know what to say. Cause in theory he was one of those she was talking about. He thought back to all the women he was involved with. There was a brunette. But it was mostly blondes he was after. Until Sara came into his life.

"When I told my parents I wanted to pursue the arts they told me it was a waste of time. They paid for all my sisters' degrees, didn't help me with mine. They compared paying for my school to flushing money down the toilet."

"You didn't deserve that." He thought about his and brothers upbringing. His parents were always supportive of everything they did. He couldn't imagine not having that.

"Things got better when I came out here for college. I found myself. I began auditioning for cameos and finally got a couple of commercials, and befriended some nice people. Which wasn't easy, so many people would backstab you for some loose change if they could. Found that out the hard way early on."

"I'm sure your parents are proud."

"They say they are for the cameras. But I know that deep down they think it would be better if I was a lawyer or a doctor. It looks better to their country club friends."

"Well if it's any consolation. I'm very proud of you. Watch some of the commercials I did and you could give me some pointers." They smiled at each other as he grabbed her hand

At last they arrived at their destination and Justin realized they were far out of civilization. The place looked like a run down shack. "Uh what is this place?"

"So this place I discovered accidentally when I was nineteen. I was going through a rough patch with school and just not in a good place mentally. I rode my bike far out, and while riding about a block from here my tire deflated. So I came to Jerry's pub crying my eyes out with no money and he calmed me down, fixed it and gave me a ride home. I would always come up here since then. He's pretty much my second dad."

"It doesn't even look like this place is open."

"It's not busy on Sunday nights, however if I'm coming I'll call and he will clear the place out ahead of time. So it will be just us and him if you don't mind."

She reached her hand out and Justin grabbed it and let her lead the way. She knocked on the door four quick times before it opened. A well toned, middle aged man answered. Immediately drew her in for a major hug. "Thank you so much for doing this on short notice Jerry."

He had a deep voice. "Anything for My favorite girl." He looked at Justin. "And you must be the friend. I'm Jerry, owner here."

Justin returned the handshake. "Justin."

" SareBear here tells me you guys are seeing each other. What do you do for a living son?"

Was this Sara's dad? Was this a set up? "Um yes sir. Um I play Quarterback for the Los Angeles Chargers."

"Isn't it San Diego?" Jerry laughed. "I'm sorry. I don't really keep up with sports like that."

Justin found himself laughing too. "It's fine, I like it that way."

Jerry's place was a small bar, old fashioned dive with a jukebox. He made them drinks. (Wine for Sara, water for Justin since pain meds.)

It felt normal, she felt normal. Like a normal twenty-six year old who was falling in love with someone that could be the one.

Her favorite Taylor swift lyric went through her head.

"And all at once you are the one I have been waiting for."

Maybe this was her moment.

She and Justin talked for a few hours until Jerry joined them. At some point Sara excused herself to use the bathroom.

"I like you Justin, your a good man with a good head on your shoulders"

"That means alot. I always try to be humble."

"You treat her right ya hear? Harry messed her up real bad. She's a good woman who deserves to be loved by a real man."

Wait. Who was Harry?

Justin nodded "Sara told me how you guys met, but can I ask what drew you to her?"

Jerry smiled. "She reminds me of my daughter Kate, she was the same age as Sara, the pride and joy of me and my wife's life. All of our kids, but Kate was our oldest. Outgoing, funny, always wanting to help and be a bright spot in someone's life."

"Here and Sara get along?"sadness crossed the older man's eyes. "Kate committed suicide her senior year of high school."

Justin felt so low. "I'm so sorry"

"Yeah she tended to hide a lot of her emotions til it bubbled over. She was so busy taking care of everyone else that she neglected herself. I blame myself, she was going through so much but always downplayed it. Bullying, was scared of the future. She felt lost. I see so much of Kate in Sara that I worry about her."

"What do you mean?"

Jerry sighed. " She buries her emotions. Sara keeps everything to herself. She doesn't want to burden anyone with her emotions. I've met her parents, nice people but they don't appreciate what an amazing soul she is. Call her immature

, a dreamer. She says it doesn't matter but she tries so hard to impress them, and it seems like it's never good enough. I've told them about Kate. Hasn't affected them."

He took a swig of his drink. "Someone like Sara… she comes around once in a lifetime. She's a special person. I hope you realize that you are one lucky man."

Justin nodded. But before the conversation could continue Sara came back to the booth. "Jerry, I see you got a new jukebox that has Bluetooth connection! Welcome to the new age!"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah and guess what? I've had it for three months and not one person uses the damn feature."

"Well today is everyone's lucky day. " She hooked up the phone.

" I'm gonna put my phone on shuffle."

The first song was upbeat . Sara began swaying and singing the song. Jerry smiled and went to take his glass to the back of the bar. Justin thought about his words

'She's a special girl'

A few more songs played, he found himself singing along to the ones he knew.

They called it a night with promises to come back.

Sara was on a high as she drove them back. The 1975's falling for you came on and it was the song to set the mood perfectly

'On this night, in this light

I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you.

Once they arrived back at 1 in the morning She helped Justin get ready for bed. After a bit of back and forth about her sleeping arrangements ( she gave into sharing his bed with him) she headed into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

As she was shutting off the lights. Sara noticed his phone on the kitchen counter. She went and grabbed it when it started to light up and vibrate in her hand.

Suddenly she was brought back to the harsh reality when she looked at the screen to figure out who would be calling him at this hour.

Taylor B.

#justin herbert #alexa writes #collide #nfl imagine

49 notes · View notes