#and hes gonna get pity points from my whole fucking family

[lunarsapphism]

.

#its so fucking stupid how when i get close to my birthday my brain really gets back into that abandoned little girl mentality #like. i dont know why youre upset #its been like this for almost ten years now #hes not gonna send you a card or money or a gift #he isnt gonna acknowledge you whatsoever #do you want him to? i know you do but i also know that you desperately dont #what would you even do if he did? #refuse the acknowledgement just to gain the satisfaction of having the last word or getting to say no this time? #i dont know #im just still angry #and its stupid im still angry but i dont know how to not be #im literally turning 21 in like nine days now. and im still waiting for my dad to personally acknowledge my existence to me for my birthday #but this year is going to be like every other year #and hes going to post a thing on facebook with a photo of me from when i was a small child #and hes going to talk about how much he misses me and how my mom took us away from him #and hes gonna get pity points from my whole fucking family #at least those who are still alive lmao #and im not going to get anything #not a text #not an email #not even an empty card #i want him to genuinely care about me so badly #but i think its just because i want to tell him to fuck off and for me doing that to hurt him #i want him to hurt so badly #i fucking hate him so much #aiilov-personal

[hqbaby]

twenty — more than

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.5k content. swearing, mentions of sex

Suna doesn’t know where the time went. One moment, he seems to have you in the palm of his hand, the next, he barely sees you at all. You’re just gone from his life, gone in the way that matters most.

It’s been two months since you and Atsumu started dating officially. He doesn’t talk to you anymore and he avoids the subject as much as he can around Atsumu, but from what he can tell, the two of you are doing great. You’re happy together, perfect even. Atsumu’s exactly what you need.

And that makes him feel terrible.

“Rin,” the girl in his bed calls, “are you okay?”

He looks up from the corner he’s decided to sit in and shrugs at her. “Dunno.”

This probably looks really bad. He’s just spent the last two hours fucking her and now he can’t even go near her. At least he’s managed to remember her name. Ayame. He never calls her that when he comes though. He just can’t.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says. “You can take the bed, I’ll stay on the couch.”

“You don’t need to do that—”

“It’s fine. I don’t really sleep in my bed anymore.”

Ayame looks at him sadly. She pities him, he knows she does. At this point, everyone knows that you and Atsumu are together. When the basketball team found out, it became a whole thing that ended with the entire campus basically getting a PSA that you are off-limits now.

She shifts a little. “Can I ask you a question?”

He nods at her weakly. “Sure.”

“Do you love her?”

Suna feels that burning in his chest again. It happens every time someone mentions you, every time he thinks about you, every time he sees your yellow Winnie the Pooh toothbrush beside his (he can’t bring himself to get rid of it).

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “If it isn’t love, I don’t know what it is.”

Ayame offers him a sad smile. “At least you know what love is,” she tells him. “Not a lot of people actually get to experience it. They think they do, but they don’t. At least you know it’s real.”

He chuckles bitterly. “What good is that?”

She sighs. “I don’t know,” she tells him. “But it’s something, right?”

“I can come with ya,” Atsumu offers, placing a bag of detergent in the cart. “Ya can tell ‘em I’m yer assistant or somethin’.”

You grab a bottle of fabric softener and tick it off your list. “My parents aren’t going to believe I have an assistant.”

“And why not? Ya can rule the whole world at this point.”

“‘Tsumu…”

“Y/N…”

You crane your neck and peck his jaw. “I would take you, I really would,” you tell him, turning back to your list. “But my whole family’s gonna be there. I don’t want the first time you meet my parents to be the same day you get harassed to death by my aunts.”

“They’d love me!” he insists.

“I’m not saying they wouldn’t,” you tell him. “I’m just saying that my family is crazy and I don’t wanna drag you down with me.”

He whines. “But how am I gonna survive without ya?”

“It’s three days!”

“That’s a lot of days!”

You groan. “If you stop complaining, I’ll take you to that new sushi place when I get back.”

He furrows his brows. “The one with the good tuna?”

“The one with the good tuna.”

Suddenly all smiles, Atsumu plants a wet kiss on your cheek as he hums the intro to that one anime he’s been obsessed with. “I have the best girlfriend in the world.”

You push the cart to the next aisle as he skips ahead of you. “You’re impossible.”

“I know! And ya still put up with me! Best girlfriend, I’m tellin’ ya.”

You roll your eyes and smile, the two of you working together to get the rest of the groceries you need.

The past two months have been the most interesting time. At first, it was a bit of an adjustment having an actual boyfriend. You went out with guys before but you never really stuck around long enough to find out what being with someone was like. It took you a while to even wrap your head around the word.

Boyfriend.

It just seemed so official. So real.

You don’t think you ever had anything real before.

But there was something about Atsumu that just made the whole thing feel natural. The two of you fell into place perfectly, finding your roles in the relationship together and figuring it out along the way.

One thing you always liked about Atsumu was his honesty. The way you always knew that what you saw was what you got. That part of him helped a lot when the two of you needed to make things clear with each other. You never felt like he was hiding what he thought or felt. What you saw was what you got.

The worst fight you had so far had to do with volleyball. You’d expected that.

Oikawa was right when he said Atsumu was extremely anal about the sport, he would stop at nothing to get things exactly right.

He had forgotten to pick you up one afternoon and, with the rain and the flooding near your residence hall, you ended up stuck in the cafeteria until late. When the two of you finally sat down to talk about it, he acted all self-righteous, saying that he was practicing and how could he have known it was going to rain?

“Ya knew I was gonna be busy!” he said, stomping around the living room. “Ya can’t just expect me to drop everythin’ for ya!”

You put your head in your hands and let out a frustrated sigh. “For fuck’s sake, Atsumu, do I not matter to you at all?”

That seemed to change something in his mind. Like it all clicked. Like he realized that he was being stupid. Of course you matter to him. He’s pretty sure you’re the only thing that does.

The two of you never had the same argument again.

He isn’t perfect, but he sees you for who you are to him. He knows your worth and he knows he never wants to lose you, nothing would be worth as much as you.

Life has worked out for the two of you. And you’ve worked out for each other. You have to admit you could get used to this feeling—this happiness, this warmth, this security—maybe you already have.

“Why don’t you throw a party?” you ask, sticking a lollipop into your mouth as he loads the groceries into his car.

Atsumu makes a face. “But why?”

“Oh, come on,” you say, “you haven’t thrown one in so long.”

“Yeah because hostin’ parties sucks ass.”

“I bet it’s not that bad.”

“Ya just say that ‘cause yer a partygoer, not a party-thrower.”

You pull the lollipop out of your mouth and jump into the passenger seat. “Alright, fine,” you say as he gets in the driver’s seat. “What about just a little night in with the team? You guys haven’t drank together in a while.”

“I don’t like drinking,” he reminds you. “Messes with my system.”

“You can party without drinking.”

“Why do ya want me to have a party so bad?”

“I don’t really want you to have a party,” you tell him. “I just think you spend a lot of time with me and… I don’t know, I kinda feel guilty that you don’t get to do that many things on your own anymore.”

He laughs at that. “I like spendin’ time with ya. Yer so much better than the team.”

“But still.”

“I get it.” He nods. “Yeah, maybe I’ll invite the boys over. It’ll be good for them. Omi especially.”

“You know, I’m always worried he’s gonna steal you away from me.”

Atsumu chokes on his own spit. “Why would ya say that?”

You shrug, a teasing smirk on your lips. “I mean, you talk about him a lot. You know what his dick looks like. Oh! And you have that weird obsession with his—”

He pulls your face to his as the car stops at a red light, kissing you to both shut you up and remind you that there’s no one else in the world that can make him feel this way. 

It’s always you. 

It’s always going to be you.

“—his vinyl collection,” you finish your sentence as soon as he pulls away.

He pecks your lips one last time, shaking his head with a smile as he starts driving again. “Yer impossible, woman.”

“Ugh, I know right? Maybe you should buy me that cake I like.”

Atsumu shakes his head, chuckling. “Impossible.”

“You love it though.”

“Do I?”

You nod, connecting your phone to the car’s speakers and putting your playlist on. “‘Course you do.”

He glances over at you and finds you grinning at him, all bright and cheery. “Guess I do,” he says, reaching over to put a hand on your thigh. “Probably love it more than I should.”

notes. soooooooooo are we ready to party or what?????

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 38 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | lesson 37 | lesson 39

normal and hard spoilers

enraged and pleading being the lesson opener...

is lucifer putting aside his pride for the sake of his brothers?

my heart can't take this

lucifer never begs. the fact that he's so lost in his rage, his confusion, his grief, this is why satan was born the way he is. lucifer losing control of himself to the point that he puts aside his dignity, his pride, using his power to this extent is something i thought i'd never get to see. and the fact that it's all for his brothers makes it that much more painful

he was fine being bound by chains when it was just him, when everyone else was safe, when he was punished for his actions and endangering and ruining the lives of the ones he loved. as long as his family is safe, he doesn't care what happens to himself. then he saw simeon, luke, mc, mammon, and couldn't reign in his emotions. he couldn't stand the thought of the people he cared about the most suffering because of what he'd done, because of his arrogance and insistence and prideful nature, so much so that his anger at himself, at his father, overrided any sense of pride he had left

he's scared, not for himself, but for his family. he uses his anger to mask his fear, but now the two are blended together so intricately that he can't differentiate the two and is losing himself, hurting the people he wants to protect

another instance of him putting aside his pride. lucifer had been just as insecure about his position at diavolo's side as mephisto had. diavolo saw him at his worst, at his weakest, and devoted himself to diavolo for the sake of his family. he put aside his pride, took on the mantle of what he perceived to be a trophy for the person that saved his life, his brothers' lives, and his sister's life

but the thoughts lingering in the back of his mind blinded him of the fact that diavolo didn't only take pity on him, but he understood and empathize with him, he cares about lucifer more than their fathers ever cared about either of them

diavolo AND lucifer at full power ??? i'd be surprised if the entire underworld didn't collapse in on itself. and if that happens, another war is gonna break out, but this time, it'll be between the celestial realm and the devildom bc they're destroying celestial realm property

if an all out war did happen, i wonder if simeon, raphael, and maybe even luke would all take the devildom's side. they've seen firsthand the evil the celestial realm is capable of, and they probably wouldnt want to be a part of it

GODDDDD IM GONNA CRY

if lucifer cries i might ACTUALLY lose my mind

the only reason he lost control of himself was because he thought he had nothing left to fight for, nothing left to lose, and he didn't care if he died in the process since he didn't have anything or anyone left to live for. but seeing his brothers brought him back to his senses. he lives for them, because of them, and would do anything to keep them from danger, even if the danger is him himself

WHATTHEFUCK THIS IS ONLY THE 2ND PART OF THE LESSON ??????? WHAT IS GOING ONNNNNNNNN

speechless. no words. i just thought i should add this

diavolo KNEELING ???? my god

satan 🥺

my guesses are as good as theirs, honestly. i don't think michael would do something this terrible to his most beloved brother, even after lucifer's betrayal of the realm and refusal. he sent luke and simeon down to check on lucifer for fuck's sake, and he went down himself disguised as raphael to make sure lucifer was ok. to see is he really was happy

maybe it was their father? but the whole forgiveness thing throws that out of the window for me. and it couldn't have been the demon king himself since he's in a deep sleep, and there's no way diavolo wouldn't at least feel if his father had woken up. maybe it was someone from the house of lords? mephisto's parents or grandparents?

it's tricky to pinpoint who the celestial realm would agree, though...

THE BROTHERS EVER i love them all sm

i feel like they woke up in age order, minus lucifer obviously. mammon woke up first and watched over all of them, making sure they were okay, and he probaboy came up with the idea to go to lucifer's room when everyone was awake and well. levi woke up second and was trying to distract himself with his games or his manga or something, but couldn't bring himself to leave until he knew all of them were safe

so on and so forth, but i can't figure out if i wanna believe satan or belphie woke up last. technically, satan's the youngest, but belphie's the weakest. satan was also the first to fall victim to cocytus and was stuck in its depths for the longest, but belphie arguably went through the most emotional distress because of what happened to beel. maybe they woke up at the same time?

incoherent screeching and sobbing noises

MY HEART

i feel like lucifer saying "no matter where you may be, no matter how far away" is only gonna make it harder for them to leave. and it's only gonna hurt the brothers more once they realize they'll (most likely) never see mc again. not in this lifetime, not in this timeline, not unless barbatos wills it

...WE FINALLY GET OUR ROOM BACK ‼️

so it wasn't god that was the celestial realm representative...who was it then?

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me spoilers #nightbringer #obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey simeon #obey me luke #obey me raphael #obey me diavolo #diavolo obey me #obey me barbatos #obey me michael #nightbringer spoilers #obey me theory #obey me mc #obey me solomon #obey me demon king #obey me demon brothers #nightbringer theory

[fahbev]

Hi! Saw you jumped on the tim hate train, welcome to the club! Aplarently you're Damian fan, which is good bc hes also one of the characters who's hit by tim's..woobification? Victimization(???) while simultaneously being the bestest, most competent batfam member. You Damian fans honestly have my respect for the pure amount of shit Damian gets because of tim.

hi lmao. Thanks xD. I usually try to keep all my negativity off of the internet, but last night I was going the anti Tim drake tag bc my frustration was flaring up. At first i was collecting posts by liking them instead of rb, then I was replying, and then at some point... “Fuck it. I want this on my blog.”

(This is gonna be a ramble btw, I don’t care abt making a good post rn.)

I used to be fine with Tim! I think the whole thing was a lot less prominent in the dpxdc fandom bc DANNY was the fan favorite/community elected woobie, but then I kinda moved out and... well. It still took awhile for this issue to seep in bc those Tim fans (you know the ones) are certainly a minority, but I just don’t think you can be a Damian fan for longer than a few months without getting frustrated.

Nowadays I refuse to read anything tagged with any variation of “Tim Drake angst” that features the batfam. Timkon fics are usually just fine though.

Actually— recently? Shit’s been bothering me so bad that I don’t wanna risk reading fics that have Tim in the first relationship tag at all. He’s gotta at most be in the second one. Ship fics are again an exception, but I don’t tend to seek out ship fics much anyway.

But, like I said, I usually keep it to myself. Every time i catch myself venting in the tags I either screenshot the tags and delete, or I delete and retype them. I put them into a private notes document. I also journal in there a lot instead of posting it.

That document is pretty long.

I do wanna say that there’s nothing wrong with what tim fans are doing. It is fun to woobify your fave. It’s fun to prop them up and tear others down and make everything about your blorbo and it is harmless. I do it too (usually in my daydreams). It’s a fantasy, and that’s what fanfiction is for. People who act like it’s “problematic” are wrong. That doesn’t mean it’s not annoying. Because it is. It’s annoying as all fuck.

Also wanna mention that I once read a damian fic that like... started off with some delicious whump, but then it turned into a whole Damian pity party and it guilt tripped all his friends and family. Damian IS my blorbo and I couldn’t read that. I didn’t even know who Maps was at the time but it seemed so bizarre to throw her under the bus. Anyway I feel like that’s what a quite large portion of Tim fic is like except a bit less extreme.

I used to tell myself that “ohhh it’s just a rivalry. I’m sure Tim fans get the same shit in reverse all the time” but I literally NEVER see it in the other direction and spend the most of my time in Damian circles. The only time I see tim hate from damian fans is frustration at those particular fans in response to it or in response to favoritism of authors.

I mean i saw a good chunk of it last night, but what else can I expect from the anti tim drake tag?

It’s actually funny how most of the stuff in anti tags is polarized hate shitting on the character with a lot of bad takes, but in tims anti tag it was almost exclusively frustration from Damian and Jason fans, and usually pretty mild takes. Also people calling Tim boring.

Ngl, Idk much about Jason. I’m familiar with his fanon, but the only comic i’ve read that featured him in a major way was Gotham War. I don’t know him well, and I don’t have too much interest in him. However, I hate “Jason falls over in guilt and kisses Tim’s fingers begging for forgiveness” type posts in solidarity. It’s yucky.

Anyway, I didn’t even mean to get on this anti tim train you speak of, It just sorta leaked out of my vent doc. Don’t expect me to keep posting about it.

but also... don’t not expect it. It might happen.

Even so, my dms are absolutely open for Timothy Drake related frustration! I’m pretty tired of being nice to him.

#anti tim drake #ask #i may delete this later #i might also delete all my anti tim posts #i might also continue hating on him #depends on my mood #also lmao idr how much i rbed you but your blog was the source of so many of the anti tim posts

[munsonmuses]

Wedding Daze

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader (Oneshot)

Synopsis: based off of the movie baring the same title, an ever confident Eddie Munson is pushed by his friends to put himself back out there after the brutal rejection of Christina Cunningham the previous year in 1986. Eddie, being a smartass, proposes to the waitress…but what if she says yes?

Based off of this scene from said movie, though I’m not sticking loyal to the source material

Here’s the inspiration

Warnings: nothing but tooth rotting fluff, to tide you over while I work on spiritual reserves my darlings

Eddie carefully poked at the chicken fried steak and eggs on his plate, yolks cracked by his prodding fork as he frowned to himself, resting his chin atop his fist as he sat beside Grant, Gareth and Jeff sitting across from him. Gareth entering his senior year that upcoming fall, the others waiting on college acceptance letters or some sort of real job opportunity.

Eddie on the other hand, had stayed in Hawkins. After the satanic panic died down, and he was given some semblance of an apology from the town, he’d stayed behind to work in a small auto body shop. Helping out Wayne, paying him back for years of kindness and safety. Even if Eddie had been a difficult kid.

His mindless slicing and stabbing of the now mutilated eggs was interrupted by Gareth’s laughter, head lulling back as he snorted.

“The cheerleaders have started this new game, like fluster the freak or something…they’re holding bets on who can get a date with one of us,” gareth started as Eddie tilted his head. Humming as if to ask him to continue, which Gareth caught on to. “And like…they’re acting ridiculous. They’re trying to be the next Hawkins high school power couple,” he muttered. “Now that Chrissy and Jason are gone…” he was down to a whisper now. Realizing his topic of choice may strike a few sour chords with Eddie, who just cleared his throat and went back to eating. “Mhm, they’re moved off to some private school in Indianapolis with their perfect parents and lives. Serves the bastards right,” Gareth tried to reverse the damage as best as he could, noticing the pang of pain in Eddie’s eyes. Being cut off finally by his girlfriend Daphne who’d kicked him in the shin.

Eddie had stuck by Chrissy after the incident in the trailer, through her recovery, and everything else. He’d fallen in love with the blonde ray of light in his sour life. But her confirmation of wanting to stay with Jason was a wound that felt like it would never heal. Sour and rotten and angering. Festering with a resentment for love that he thought he’d never have.

“Don’t talk badly about her man, she’s not a bad person okay? Just…y’know, had different aspirations that didn’t involve me. People like her have their whole lives planned out by their parents. She’s gonna have two point five kids with Jason. Blonde and light eyed with a stay at home mom and an attorney dad or something. And a dog that’s like…also blonde somehow, and some stupid fucking perfect suburban house with a picket goddamn fence and-“ he was cut off by the waitress that came by, replacing his maimed plate with a fresh one, a soft smile on her face as he just nodded quietly in thanks. It had to be pity…why else would she replace his food for free.

Gareth watched the woman leave as Jeff spoke up. Carefully looking at Eddie as he sipped on his black and white milkshake. Humming in thought before coming to the right words. “Maybe you should…try dating yeah? Try dating anyone honestly. Not because you pity them or like they’re desperate, but find someone. You’re twenty one, you’re decent looking, you’re nice to be around…hell you have goals and aspirations, you care about your family. You’ve stopped dealing.” He whispered the last part gently as Eddie carefully worked on eating his chicken fried steak and sighed.

“I dunno man I just, I’ve got the shittiest wrap sheet in this town besides Rick. I’m a mechanic matching little money, I still live in the trailer park just in a different spot. It took my two additional years to finish high school, I can’t go to college…I don’t want to go to college. I’m not really the perfect American boy. I’m white trash.” He muttered.

“Oh please you guys are all good looking,” Daphne insisted, leading Gareth to respond “well yeah but you’re a freak too, you’re goth and we’re…punk, I guess?” He insisted as Eddie snorted.

“Yeah you’re both freaks. That’s the thing. There’s not a lot of us in this god forsaken town, more than that the half that’s left blames me still, the other half packed up and moved a town or two over-“ he muttered as he wiped some gravy off his lip and sucked it off his thumb. Glaring lightly at the couple as the waitress came by to refill their coffee. Putting whipped cream on Eddie’s before walking away as he used a spoon to scoop it up and eat some.

Gareth scoffed back at him as he carefully ate his waffles and thought. “Honestly? You’re not giving anybody a chance. People like you Eddie. Lots of people like you, not the general public but like…there’s girls who come to the hideout, and there’s nerdy girls in town.” He insisted softly. Trying to contradict his friend.

“Nerdy in a great at school, really dorky, coke bottle glasses, I go to church and do math for some sort of sick pleasure kind of way…not a dnd, likes good music, kinda bold way…and the girls at the hideout have herpes…I know because they very loudly talk about it.” He insisted sharply as he carefully finished off his food and hummed to himself. Scraping the runny egg yolks up with his toast as he hummed to himself angrily. Trying to keep himself calm and not just storm out on his friends.

“Dude don’t be like that. Just try okay?” He pleaded as the waitress came over to take away Jeff and Grant’s plates as she hummed contentedly. Careful with the warm acrylic plates and balancing the sloshing egg yolks, sticky jam and skinning over gravy as she smiled at them all.

And Eddie, in his Munson-y way, decided to be a smartass.

“Hey miss…aww that’s a cute ladybug pin. Imma call you ladybug. Listen ladybug? Do you think I’m good looking? Am I a handsome, rugged guy…you think I’m scary?” He asked softly as he leaned back against the booth and the table. Legs spread and staring up at you as he hummed to himself. Carefully staring at the flustered woman.

You were a bit taken aback. Your sweet dusty yellow dress and white apron. Stuck full to the brim with pens and straws. Hair teased to the high heavens with adorably sparkly pins. Sweet makeup that accentuated the soft and gentle appearance of your face. Carefully setting down the tray on a nearby table as you hummed. “Honestly…? You’re very very handsome, and I think you’re scary in a like…big cat kind of way? Like a giant house cat? And I think you’re rugged in a Hans solo kind of way? Like you’d grab me in a heroic way and kiss me really really hard…and you whisk me away from it all…” you insisted softly.

The guys gently kicked Eddie under the table which only seemed to be frustrating him more. Eddie needed to be right. Pride was his fatal flaw and he knew it. Choosing to double down.

“Would you marry me?” He suddenly asked as a silence fell over the table. Eddie grinning as he licked his upper teeth with a tap of the foot. His smile falling and eyes blowing wide at your response.

“Yes…yes absolutely. Yes!” You laughed as you turned to face one of your coworkers. “Janice! Janice I need you to cover for me! Please!” You called as Janice looked up. “Why? Where are you going sugar?” She asked as you lit up.

“I’m getting married! I’m marrying Eddie Munson!” You insisted as Eddie felt his mouth grow dry. Nerves soaring as he let you take his arm and drag him to stand. “Cmon Eddie!” You laughed as he followed, his friends watching with wide eyes as his friends watched with open mouths and shaking hands.

Eddie followed you down the street to your little car as he laughed nervously to himself. Struggling to keep up as he looked at you. “You sure about this honey?” He whispered nervously.

“More sure than I’ve ever been oh my god!”

Eddie had been wrong? And now it would change the course of his life.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

[thebattleofstarcourt]

༉‧₊˚✧ paradox

eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

summary: you might be a cheerleader with a bit of a mean streak, but you’re not an idiot. you knew eddie munson isn’t a satanic cult leader, or that he killed chrissy cunningham. and for some reason, you couldn’t leave high school without telling him that.

warnings: reader has no specified race, ethinicity, or gender id. however, they are implied to be affected by misogyny.

a/n: requests r open !!!!

“tonni, do you seriously not know how to fold a shirt?” you said, staring at the wadded-up polo in her hands. being the only two cheerleaders who actually showed up to volunteer at the school after the earthquake, you were naturally paired together at the folding station. this was despite the fact that you could barely stand her.

tonni was one of the few girls you’ve met who’s stupidity unintentionally makes her meaner. she’s rarely ever consciously malicious – save for the time she egged ryan jenkin’s car for standing her up at prom – but her knack for gossip and her talent for the dramatics makes her someone who you can only stand for short periods at a time before she becomes unbearingly annoying.

combine that with the fact that your ‘84 cavalier you spent the last year saving up for fell into the ground a couple months ago, and your resolve was paper thin.

“my mom usually folds mine!” she protested, a permed curl getting stuck in her lipgloss as she pouted. “i can’t believe she dragged me to this without me knowing a damn thing. it’s so humilating.”

“i highly doubt the families whose houses just got ripped open by an earthquake care about how stupid you look.” you said.

“whatever.” she huffed. “this just means we’re nicer people. you wanna know who i saw walking out of deb’s wearing brand new acid-wash jordache’s?”

“not really,” you admitted. 

“fucking stacey.” she growled, completely ignoring your protests. “you know what she said the other day? she said chrissy didn’t have what it takes to be captain. like, oh my god she died, like, a week ago.”

“two months.” you corrected.

“i think she’s just jealous,” she said, as if she wasn’t too. “like, i wanted to be cheer captain too, but i’m not gonna disparage the dead just ‘cause! plus, we all know you would’ve been head cheerleader, anyways. the whole swim team has the hots for you, and they’re way hotter than the basketball players.”

“god, just shut up.” you said, rolling your eyes. the only thing that tonni ever did intentionally was throw herself constant pity parties. “your whining is giving me a fucking headache.”

your voice was just stern enough to simultaneously scare tonni to silence while alerting ms. kelley – one of the supervisors who was overlooking the stations – of a commotion. 

“is something wrong over here?” she asked, causing tonni’s eyes to beam. 

“oh no, we were just teasing each other.” she laughed, knocking her elbow with yours. “although, we were wondering if there was any way we could switch stations for the day?” she asked, looking down at the clothes in front of her. “i think i’d be much better an making pb-and-j’s than folding laundry.”

the older woman smiled. “of course, i’m sure we can find somewhere else to stick the two of you.”

“actually, i’m allergic to peanuts.” you lied. “so i’m gonna stay here.”

“since when – ”

“oh, of course! tonni you can switch with,” she turned around, brown eyes scanning over the room intently. “eddie!” she said, motioning the boy over, 

the boy in question – eddie munson, fresh from hiding and doing his best to ride the high of being a free man – slummed over, profusely avoiding eye contact with his two classmates in front of him.

“eddie, could you switch stations with tonni?” ms kelley asked him. he gave a silent nod.

“hold on,” tonni said, lowering her voice to a pathetic attempt at a whisper, “you can’t stick her with him.” she pointed between the both of you. “we’re cheerleaders, ms. kelley. you know what he does to cheerleaders.”

she sighed, in all her guidance counselor glory. “considering the fact his charges were dropped, i think she’ll be fine.”

tonni’s smile was replaced with a displeased frown. she looked back at you for support as you rolled your eyes, beyond finished with her dramatics.

“fine,” she huffs again, walking towards the kitchen. “but just so you know, the blood’s on your hands, ms kelley!”

“i’ll take the risk.” ms. kelley said, giving eddie and you a court nod before walking away.

“she’s so fucking stupid,” you mumbled under your breath.  

eddie plainly joined the spot next to you, doing his best to ignore your prescnse entirely as he began working through the massive pile of laundry tonni neglected to fold.

following suit, you began working through a new basket steve harrington dropped off a little bit ago. at the top sat a pair of dingy white boxer briefs, looking worned out to death. apprehensively, you picked one pair up by the waistband and held it under the ceiling lights. dozens of indiscernrable wet patches littered the garment, and you dropped it back on the table in disgust.

“jesus fuckin’ christ.”

eddie, who was failing at making it seem like he was ignoring you, scrunched his nose and dragged the briefs to the garbage can next to the table with the back of his hand. “gross.” he said, wiping the back of his hand on his jeans. 

you mumbled a quiet thank you before the two of you fell back into a shrewd silence. despite this, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him regardless. and every third time or so, his gaze would skip from the clothes in front of him, to you, back to the clothes in front of him. 

the cycle continued for the next thirty minutes, trying to egg him on so this wouldn’t be as violently uncomfortable as it was, but to no avail. his nervous energy radiated off of him like a wildfire; vibrations of tension rippled through the woobly fold-up tables like the earthquake that brought them here in the first place.

you couldn’t blame him, you guess. considering he saw someone die, was falsely accused of murder, hid from cops and rabid mobs for a week until the earthquake shattered his friend’s kneecap, when he ultimately blew his cover to carry him to the hospital.

especially since you’ve eaten lunch with the people that led said mobs for the past four years.

but then again, maybe the discomfort was partially on you as well. a conjunction of words have been lingering in the back of your throat as soon as he walked over to you, and you were just itching to get them out. but with graduation a few months away, a part of you didn’t want to risk disrupting the little amount of peace he had left in this town.

so, you waited it out some more, and he continued playing the metaphorical game you accidentally challenged him to. and even though he struggled with the pressure your gaze held him under, it was ultimately you that cracked.

“i don’t think you killed chrissy.” you told him, finally looking away.

eddie paused for a moment, letting your words and all their implications sink in. despite what you considered to be your best efforts, the fire around him was just as lively as ever. 

it’s not like you ever did anything to eddie personally. but your differing status in the current social status of hawkins was enough to terrify him to the core, but he didn’t want to show that. he didn’t spend years of building up immunity from the bullying by the jocks and the populars just to sink back to rock bottom.

so instead he stiffens, hardening his exterior as seamlessly as he can. . “i think that the investigation kind of proved that.”

“well, no shit,” you said, “i’m not taking about that. i’m saying i never thought you did.”

“no shit.” he repeated.

you huffed, annoyed with his short responses. “look, she told me she was getting pot from you that thursday. at first i thought she was fucking with me, ‘cause she’s chrissy fucking cunningham. she’s holier than the virgin mary.”

“okay?” he asked, confused as to what you were talking about.

“what i’m trying to say is,” you put down the jeans you were holding before and turning towards him. “she’s kind of a square sometimes, but she wasn’t clueless, ya’know? and after i thought about it some more, i realized she wasn’t kidding. the past weeks leading up to the game she’d been acting super weird; she was paranoid as shit, always looking around like someone was watching her.” you sighed. “i tried telling jason that when he was on his whole witch hunt, but he just thought i was lying. saying all this awful shit about how i’m a slut that was being ‘led by the devil.’”

“that’s…” he started, trying to find the words – something he’d been struggling with since chrissy. “something.”

“it was fucked up,” you said, “but it kind of opened my eyes to some shit.”

eddie doesn't know why you're telling him this, and at this point, you don’t really know either. after everything eddie has gone through, he deserves to lose his trust in humanity. he deserves to have walls as tall as skyscrapers built around his heart, protecting him of any false shred of hope that people could actually think he was a decent human.

he wants to be the kind of realist that pushes people away, but he never was. because of people like chrissy and steve he now knows physical proof that these people that he’s villainized in his head for years can be good and kind. and fuck him for wanting some more of that.

“about what?” he asked finally, because he really wants to know.

“you, mostly.” you admitted. “but also kind of … everything?” you fiddled with the hem of the shirt you were folding in between your fingers, remembering the events of that night. how jason, someone you’d known since kindergarten, looked you in the eyes and spit at your feet liek you were nothing. “i guess i figured if someone who was my friend thought shit about me that wasn’t true, then they could do the same for you.”

“that’s why you knew i didn’t do it?” he asked, even though you already said your answer.

“yeah,” you said. “that and i didn’t really buy into the whole satanic cult leader thing.”

“yeah, well,” he said while letting out a shaky breath. “guess i’m not the type to match people’s expectations.”

“but you aren’t, either.” he added on. “i kind of thought you were –”

“a bitch?” you finished.

“no!” he said, shaking his head profusely. “not really, i mean. you’re just kind of… i don’t know,” he sighed putting his head in his hands.

“it’s okay,” you assured. “i’m not offended. you’re not the first person to think that of me.”

“ah,” he said, understanding truly were you were coming from know. “so we’re both victims of small-town presumption, huh?”

“except mine is at least half-true,” you said. “but i’m, ya’know, trying to work on it. being less of a bitch to people. ‘s kind of why i’m here in the first place.”

“talking to me or doing community service?”

“both.”

“well, folding clothes for people who’s homes just got ate by the earth is a great start on the path to humility.” he joked. “but, uh,for what it’s worth, i don’t think you are one. a little scary? sure, no question. i mean, i was less intimidated being interrogated by a cop who just escaped a soviet prison than when you were glaring at me earlier.”

“i was trying to figure out a way to tell you that i didn’t think you were sociopathic murderer. sorry for overthinking it a little.”

“well, uh, to tell you the truth, it actually means a lot you think that. it’s nice to know that there’s one less person in this town that thinks horrible of me.”

“same here.”

༉‧₊˚✧

“jesus.” eddie shook his head, mulling over the story you had just told him about the time roy daniels told the whole basketball team that you gave the entire football team head so you’d be head cheerleader. “i don’t think you give yourself enough credit, ‘cause if everyone started treating me like i was some succubus, i’d go batshit.”

“a what?”

“succubus.” he clarified, his face flushing slightly. “it's, um, a mythological sex demon.”

“wow,” you laughed, and eddie realizes it’s the first flux of emotion you’ve shown since he’s come over. “ya know, for super senior, you’re kind of a nerd.”

“yeah,” he said, flashing a tight-lipped grin. “i’m a bit of a paradox.”

“no shit,” you said. 

“eddie!” a short-haired girl called out, running up to the table erratically. she quickly looked at you. “oh shit sorry, um hi?”

“um, hi.” you said.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt you! im eddie’s friend, robin.”

“i’m –”

“oh, i know who you are.” she said as an impressively fast pace. “not in, like, a creepy way or anything! i’m, uh, in band. and you’re the one who does all the flips and stuff during the games.”

“yeah, that’s me.”

“buckley! munson! quit yapping. we’re like twenty minutes late to henderson’s thing we gotta go!” steve harrington said, approaching the trio.

“ugh.” she moaned. “i’ll tell you in the car.”

“i’ll meet you there,” he said, nudging your shoulder.

“it was nice meeting you, robin.” you said, giving her a tight-lipped smile. you hoped it didn’t look as uncomfortable as it felt.

“you too!” she yelled back, waving over her shoulder as caught up with steve.

he turned back to face you. “guess i’m off. you’ll have to finish this load without me.”

“i’ll manage.” you said, and he smiled, sweet and genuinely. the kind of smile that used to give you butterflies in middle school.

“it was, um…” you gulped, watching him begin to walk away from you. “it was nice meeting you too, eddie.” you said. 

“golly jee!” he chirped, putting his hand on his heart. “i'm honored! I know that must’ve been hard for you.”

you rolled your eyes. “it was payback for putting up with me all day. it must've been hard hanging out with a cheerleader and not gutting her open.” 

he stared at you for a moment, mouth gaped. and then, he broke out into a fit of laughter.

“too soon?” you asked, scrunching your nose.

“not at all,” he cleared his throat. “in fact, that was probably the best thing anyone has said to me over the past two months.”

“even harrington?” you asked, and he laughed again. “i mean, no offense, but you are literally the last person i would ever imagine carpooling with steve harrington. and vice-versa.”

“he’s alright,” eddie shrugged. “way less cool than he was in high school.”

“guess that makes sense then,” you said. 

assuming he was leaving, you went back to folding the last of the laundry for the day. eddie, on the other hand, stood in front of you, twisting the ring on his pointer finger in thought. he turned around towards the exit, then back at you before speaking up again. “you know, and of course you don’t have to or anything, but if you want, and your friends are being dicks and starting mobs again,” he said, “then you could always hang out with us.”

“you sure you’re not scared of me anymore?” you asked.

“oh no i totally am,” he said, “but maybe increased exposure will nullify me.” 

“i don’t know,” you pretended you had no idea what ferocity was getting into you at that moment, even though you did. (1) all your friends are either dead, suck, or both, (2) you haven’t had sex in six months, and (3) the way eddie’s loose curls framed his how have you not noticed he was hot before face. 

“i mean, that actually sounds like fun.” you continued, “but, at least to me, it seems like the more direct way to approach your problem is to hang out with me one-on-one, right?”

eddie audibly choked, obviously caught off guard at your rapid tonal 180 in the conversation. you cracked a devilish smile. 

and, oh god as if eddie didn't think you were pretty before (which he did, because although he was respectful, he at least had eyes), seeing you smile like that threw him for a loop.

“one-on-one?” he asked, clarifying.

“yeah, maybe like a movie or something.”

“like a –” the sound of a car honking cut him off, proceeding a faint shout of “munson get your ass in the car!”

“yeah,” you said. “unless that’s too scary for a dungeon master.”

his cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. he coughed again, trying to pretend like the sound of your voice dipping into that octave doesn’t make him hard. “oh, that’s absolutely fucking terrifying. but luckily i’m kind of insane, so …”

“meet me at hawk at 7 tomorrow.” you said. “they’re showing castle in the sky.”

and even though eddie has absolutely no interest in watching an animated romance movie made for children, he agrees regardless. “see you then.”

༉‧₊˚✧

“fuckin’ finally,” steve groaned, watching eddie through the rearview mirror. he rolled his window down and poked his head out. “munson, if you don’t get your ass in the goddamn car in the next ten seconds you’re walking for the rest of the year!”

“sorry!” eddie said, throwing himself into the backseat. “you’ll never guess what just fuckin’ happened.”

“you folded socks with the captain of the cheer team?” robin turned around from the front seat.

“yes,” eddie said, “but also –”

“they didn’t say shit to you, right?” steve asked. “‘cause you know if they do that’s libel.”

“defamation,” robin corrected. “libel is written.”

“no one likes a know-it-all, rob.”

“you dated a reporter for a year!”

“no, they didn’t say shit to me,” eddie said. “in fact, they asked me on a date.” 

the car came to an abrupt stop as robin’s jaw fell open in shock. steve quickly pulled over to the curb and turned around.

“they what?”

“are you serious?”

“so fuckin’ serious.” eddie grinned. “we’re going to see a movie tomorrow.”

“okay, wait,” robin shook her head, “so they don’t think you’re, ya’know, a murderer?”

“no!” eddie said, smiling wide.

“holy shit, man,” steve said. “that’s big. real big. i mean, have you ever even gone on a date before?”

“okay, fuck you, harrington” eddie rolled his eyes. “i’m not some fifteen-year-old virgin. you know how many people got ‘fuck a guitarist’ on their bucket lists?”

“ew!” robin groaned.

steve ignored her. “that doesn’t mean you’ve been on a date.” 

“how could he not be a virgin and not gone on a – ” robin said, stopping herself before she answered her own question. she looked at eddie in disgust. “you are so gross.”

“is it really that much different?” he asked.

“what movie are you seeing?”

“... castle in the sky.”

robin stuffled her laughter behind her hands while steve signed and started up his car again.

“holy shit,” eddie said, his eyes widening at his realization. “i need a new shirt.”

#wk:3.2k #i never write pre-relationship stuff so bear w me #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson x y/n #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn drabble #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #joeseph quinn x reader

[altschmerzes]

for those of you playing along at home, i made it through the funeral/memorial/whatever. honestly could’ve been worse.

this is long and probably tmi but im processing out loud ig. probably should just keep a journal instead but here we are.

yesterday sucked ass mostly because like. at some point in the last two years since i started law school/moved to canada my father sent me some package at my grandmother’s house. yes this is after i made it very clear i did not want to see or hear from him. years after i made that clear. he did this fairly regularly - tried to give me things or pass messages through my sister or my mother or grandmother. anyway she asked if i wanted it, i was like. uh. No. and i guess she kept it for Some Reason because when i was very briefly at her house before heading to where the memorial happened today she pointed me at a pile of my things she wanted me to look at and there was a package. and on autopilot or something because ive been completely f r i e d out of my gourd this weekend i made the mistake i havent made in YEARS and opened it.

and i gotta say if i were going to ignore my daughter’s very clearly communicated boundaries and attempt to get in touch with her after she made it extremely clear she did not want me to do that SIX YEARS AGO at the time my go-to method of somehow persuading her to drop her decision to go no-contact wouldn’t involve [checks notes] a pearl necklace and a three-plus page letter about how nothing was ever my fault.

threeeeeee and then some pages of self-pitying guilt trip about how everyone turned their backs on him and other people kept us apart (as if that was the problem, the years of his absence rather than the years of his abuse) and how he knows the alcohol was bad but he’s off it now! he’s had such a hard life! i should stop punishing myself and other people! he won’t be around forever! (ISNT THAT IRONIC. LMAO.) after finishing this letter he TWICE decided he needed to add extra bits about how things don’t have to be like this, they can be better, and how im making “uninformed decisions” about him without knowing “the whole story.”

yikes.

anyways. that sucked and fucked me up real bad but my fiancé and i burned it last night on the beach and i threw the pearls (pearls? really? PEARLS?????) into the pacific.

then today. it was honestly fine. none of his friends seemed to even know i refused to speak to him, as they talked to me like they were assuming i was around all the time and super involved in his life. not sure what to make of that but it made it very easy to smile and nod and thank them for coming and not worry about anything further than that. he knew some cool people honestly. they were pretty neat, and his partner of 11 years, effectively my stepmom, is kind of awesome tbh. no idea what she was doing with him. and also my sister only yelled at me in front of some 50+ people once. for my sister this was a win.

and my brother came.

that was….. shocking. i had been in contact with his mom on and off about this but it was NOT clear at all if he was gonna show up. i figured not, honestly, because he’s so hard to get ahold of and none of us have seen him since 2016. but he came. and he brought his kids. my nephew is going into fifth grade and my niece is starting second and oh my gd they’re great. they’re adorable and funny and such sweet kids and i hand to gd thought id never see them again. now it looks like they’re going to come to my wedding reception when we have one out here so my family can attend something. it’s…. i didnt think id ever see or speak to him again and definitely not the kids. but there they were. i stood next to my brother with his arm around my shoulders and mine around his waist while my mom gave a little speech to everyone who was there thanking them for coming and felt him breathing and couldn’t believe it was real. i dug around in the sand with my niece and my nephew must have hugged me about a half-dozen times. they’re good, sweet kids and my brother is a kind, patient father.

tomorrow’s gonna suck, taking a redeye home, gonna land at like 5 am tuesday and then have to cross my fingers and hope border control is chill with me, this whole situation has been a complete nightmare (except for my wife being there, thank gd) but today was as good as it possibly could’ve been. it’s probably gonna take me a while to really like….. even out from this, i think, but it’s almost over and then i get to live the rest of my life without worrying about ever seeing that man again.

what he did to me is going to follow me the rest of my life but HE won’t because he’s fucking dead and im alive and that means i won.

#gav gab #death cw #abuse cw #goes into some addiction stuff too

[jjsmaybank20]

Broken

Natasha Romanoff x GN!Stark!Reader

Summary: Dealing with the loss of your family broke you more than you could know. All Clint can do is support you the best he can.

Warnings: Literally just angst. Language, legal-age drinking

Word Count: 587

A/N: Enjoy this super angsty blurb that I thought of in a dream. I kind of hate the ending, but what can you do.

navigation  marvel masterlist

---

It had been 6 years since the first blip, 1 since everyone had been brought back. You know you should be happy for the people who got their families back, but how could you? You lost almost everyone who was ever important to you.

After the final battle, you sunk into a deep depression. Drinking yourself to sleep every night, not being able to face the nightmares without it. It got to the point where you were almost never sober.

Finally, Clint had had enough. Enough of your self pity, enough of your destructive habits. He decided to interfere. Showing up at your house, he banged harshly on the door. When you didn’t answer, he picked the lock and came in.

He found you on the couch with a whiskey bottle in hand. He wants to give you a piece of his mind, but he can’t do it after seeing how broken you look. He stands in front of you, shaking his head disappointedly. 

“How could you do this to yourself? Natasha would hate seeing you like this.” As soon as he says that, you spring up and get right in his face. “Don’t you dare say that to me. Don’t you fucking dare. You still have your wife, your kids. You got them back. For me, everything is gone.” 

Clint shakes his head, disagreeing with you. You stare at him before practically yelling, “My girlfriend, gone. My best friend, gone. My brother, gone.” 

You put a hand up to stop Clint from interrupting, knowing that he was going to try to cheer you up. “And don’t give me some ‘they’re never truly gone’ bullshit. Yes they fucking are. I know she was your best friend, Clint, but she was the love of my fucking life. I had everything planned out. I mean, I was going to propose! We were- we were gonna-“ Your voice cracks. 

You let out a sob and sink to the floor, making Clint rush over and wrap his arms around you. “We were gonna move to a big house in the suburbs, maybe adopt a few cats, and just live a normal fucking life. But just like that, our dream got ripped from us, and I’m left with this- this- gaping hole in my chest that nothing can fill. At least the booze makes it smaller.”

All Clint can do is hold you and listen while you pour your heart out. He holds you tightly until you calm down slightly. “Look, Y/N. I can’t tell you that you’ll ever feel whole again, because that hole is always going to be there. It’s just going to get smaller as time goes on. What you need to do to honor their memory is pick yourself back up and try to heal. They’re looking down on you, and they can see that you’re in pain. It’s time to start to try again.”

You nod slightly in the mans’ arms, knowing that he’s right. “I don’t know how to heal. I just- I just don’t know.” You whimper out. Clint squeezes you, knowing that what you need right now is the comfort of a friend. 

“How about you come and stay with me and Laura for a while? We wouldn’t mind. I actually have some people that I want you to meet. What do you think?” You give Clint a weak smile, giving in to his attempt to help. 

Healing would take time, but with your newfound support system, maybe you would be able to recover.

—

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[filthforfriends]

Chapter 9

Alpha!Damiano x Omega!Reader

Yes twice in a week<3

The sound of three seatbelts being undone rouses you before Dami has the chance. The first thing you do is check if your scarf has stayed in place. It had. Damiano’s over reaction might have been a dead giveaway, so the whole charade could be pointless. It’s not your peers' judgment that worries you. Most of the alpha-omega population was marked for the first time in high school or secondary education. However, the judgmental stares of nosy parents as you pick your way to your seats was slightly unnerving. 

You sat five rows back from where the coaches stood, greeting all of them. How one smile was supposed to smooth over yesterday was beyond you until you saw Dami’s smile. Waving cheerfully, you do your best to emulate everyone’s disposition. 

“You gonna be okay for a minute?” Dami asks, plopping the three blankets you settled on down.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He nimbly jumps down the bleachers and vaults over the railing onto the sidelines. Although Damiano is out of sight, you can hear when the team sees him from their cheers. The whole amphitheater is loud, especially some screeching coming from the unofficial omega section. Turning to see who’s making all the god damn noise, you realize it's Emmaline trying to get your attention.

“Oh, hi!” you wave. Her and Athena aggressively beckon you over, a request which you only heed to stop bringing attention to yourself.

“Starting early are we?” They burst into giggles as you seat yourself in the middle. Really, you should have been smarter, because a tipsy Emmaline starts pulling down your scarf. You smack her hand away.

“For fuck’s sake,” you hiss, giving her a scorching, dirty look. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she chortles, throwing her hands up like a robber. “I don’t know why you’d want to hide it. Damiano’s gorgeous.” A raging flare of jealousy is your first indicator that the mark is taking effect. Dami’s beauty was an objective fact and Emmaline was mated to Lars. 

“I just don’t want to announce it to everyone all at once. My family doesn’t even know.”

“Then why the hell risk coming here??”

“Em, you know what happened yesterday,” Athena whisper yells. She bends over so she’s not audible to other attendees.

“But he can’t even play! What’s the fucking point of dragging her out here at the ass crack of dawn on a Saturday?”

“I honestly don’t know either,” you pipe up. Emmaline may have been rude, but she alway said exactly what she meant. A whistle indicates the start of the game, and you all take a moment to cheer Romero on. Manchu Sport ran onto the field, from the opposite side, in some offensively neon green uniforms. As soon as her attention isn’t on the field, Athena glances back and forth between the two of you incredulously.

“Because someone started a rumor that she found him! And that, y’know…it wasn’t just a normal fight. Does Lars not tell you anything?”

“I did find him,” you respond. For the first time in possibly their entire lives, Athena and Em are speechless. Someone on the coaching staff or in the collegiate sports office had treated Dami’s full blown health crisis like a fictional tabloid anecdote. It made you murderous.

“He’s not actually dangerous if you don’t threaten him,” you justify. 

“Uh, well not to you because you’re marked,” Athena challenged.

“He marked me after.” Em and Athena are shocked, and maybe even a little impressed. If they had actually seen Dami in an episode, like his team mates, they’d know he wasn’t a violent monster. This fact was evidenced by Romero Soccor’s warm greeting. Of course, it only takes one little lying shit whose inadequacy complex is triggered by Damiano.

“Wait, where are you getting your information? This is supposed to be private.” Athena looks at you with pity.

“There was a basketball tournament this fall. Some error by the referee at the semi-finals. Oceanna was supposed to play Romero in the finals, but they got disqualified super last minute and Dam had to play his old school.” You realize that you don’t even know the name. Asking now would make it seem like Damiano withheld information from you.

“There wasn’t any warning and there was no one to sub in,” Athena continues. “If he didn’t play we’d have to forfeit so –”

“So of course he agreed to play, anyways,” you fill in.

“And we won by a landslide,” Emmaline adds, proudly. “But they were sore losers. Asked for a rematch, but we won the whole tournament.”

“In retribution the couple of seniors that knew Damiano was forced to switch schools started talking to our seniors. Eventually someone, somewhere leaked the why.”

“Sadistic cunts,” Em curses.

“PTA vultures.”

“Sadistic PTA vulture’s cunts,” she compounds.

“So how many people know?” 

“Star was trying to keep it quiet,” Athena sighs.

“But now…” you prompt.

“About a third of the team knows and a few of their omega’s. A lot of people just thought he was upset yesterday. It’s a coveted secret. Knowing is a sign of seniority, so it’s not spreading like wildfire.”

“Yet,” you groan, resting your face in your palms. “He’s not even a threat to betas or omega’s, ever.

“Really?” Emmaline exclaims. “Christ, they made it seem like – ow!” Athena kicks her hard so she stops talking. You’d been so enraptured in conversation that you didn’t notice Damiano’s presence until he was right behind you.

“Hey,” Dami greets you warmly. He sits on the riser above you, arms draped around your neck. You tilt your head back for a kiss. It's just a peck because the position is awkward. He rests his face against your scalp and breathes in deep.

“What's it been? An unbearable 12 minutes without her?”

“Actually I believe it’s been 13 minutes and 5.2 seconds.”

“So basically an entire lifetime.” Em and Athena tease.

“Fuck off,” Dami mutters, lifting his face after a few moments. “I was just checking on you. You looked stressed.” You place one hand on Damiano’s cheek and turn to gaze up at him. His big, soulful eyes stare down at you adoringly and you forget to answer his question. He cradles the base of your skull, fingers threaded in your hair. Dami kisses your forehead and you allow your eyes to fall closed, just focusing on the sensation of his skin on yours. This was your little safe haven, where your mind went quiet and all the complexity of the world fell away. This was simple, animal. 

When Dami pulled away, your fingertips fell to his jawline. He caught your hand in his, kissed it, and placed it in your lap.

“Whatcha talking about?” Lying doesn’t even cross your mind.

“You.”

“Me?” he asks. His infelction and expression are so cheerful that you hope Dami will allow you to elaborate later.

“Yeah, about how it took y/n six days to get your mark. Couldn’t even hold out a full week.” Dami’s eyes don’t move from your face. Instead of being offended by Em or emasculated, he grins.

“I assume they’re not this mean to you?”

“Definitely not, but I can come sit with you if you want?” It was adorable that Dami might miss you from only a few yards away.

“Take your time, I’m just checking.” He gets up and returns to his family. 

“So he’s clingy, '' Em narrates. Damiano settles next to Sandro, pointing at something on the field. You quickly scan the auditorium for what everyone else is doing, and find yourself being watched by half a dozen people. Not glanced at in curiosity, but examined. You check to see if Dami has noticed, but he’s blissfully oblivious. His parents on the other hand, Isabella especially, are hyper-aware. She keeps looking back and forth between you and the spectators. 

At first you wonder if it’s your fresh mark, but that's far from newsworthy.There was an omega at the far end of your section whose mark couldn’t be more than a week old and was being spared no glances. Under Isabella’s strategic gaze, you finally realize your role today.

“Oh my fucking god,” you groan.

“What is it?”

“I’m the evidence. I’m here because I am the evidence that Damiano isn’t vicious and out of control. They’re all fucking looking at me,” you hiss, ducking. Athena and Em glance around themselves.

“I wouldn’t say all –”

“Sadistic PTA vulture’s cunts.” Emmaline announces the words louder than necessary while looking behind her.

“Mm-mm, I am the wrong person for this job.” You put a hand to your chest as it tightens, then lower that hand because people will blame your distress on just speaking to Damiano. “If I have a panic attack they’ll blame it on him.”

“You’re not gonna have a panic attack,” Athena soothes, taking your hand and squeezing it. Emmaline does the same on the other side. 

“Just pretend that you’re sick.”

“They’ll blame that on Damiano too. ‘Did you see his girlfriend? I’ve never seen any omega look so ill after being marked by a normal alpha.’” You impersonate these apparently hobbyless, prying alpha parents in a nasal voice.

“Well, shit,” Em deadpans.

“Am I gonna be in the spotlight forever?” you worry. “People are always gonna be prejudiced. How much of my life is gonna be fighting this bullshit because I love someone with AD2? I am not a shiny person.”

“I’ll pretend to be sick,” Em decides. “Ready, set…” She stands up to cheer like she’s wasted. Nothing has happened on the field. Then she takes a long drink from her suspicious coffee mug, wobbles, and pretends to gag. So you and Athena rush her out of the bleachers and into the first bathroom. Once the door is locked, you sink to the floor, dropping your head between your legs.

“Okay, listen. You only have to control what people think, if you care what they think,” Em points out.

 “There are laws and protocols in place to protect the rights of people with hormonal dysfunction. Just get through the next year and change, then you can do it your own way.” You focus on taking slow, deep breaths, thinking that scenting would be really helpful right now. “And if Dam takes a job where he only interacts with omegas and betas, then the whole thing is mute, anyways.”

“But Damiano is so stuck in this way of being. You have no idea how fucking difficult it can be.” Athena looks at you helplessly.

“That boy would walk on glass for you.” Emmaline declares this as if Dami’s commitment was ever in question.

“But I don’t want him to! I want his life to be easy!” The room falls silent. Never did you imagine that Em and Athena would be your confidants in anything. 

“I used to have playdates with Dam, when we were tiny. Isabella has always had a stick up her ass. She makes things seem harder than they are. Just…look at this again in a couple days.”

“Reevaluate,” Athena agrees. You nod, trying to shake off the anxiety. Now that you’d dodged the panic attack from, everything was uphill. At least that’s the platitude you kept repeating to yourself while walking back to the amphitheater because it had to be true. 

“Very impressive performance by the way Em.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She stops to take a bow and wave at a fake audience. Knowing you’re going to be observed, you school your face into an annoyed friend and go straight to Dami. He’s standing up, back to the field, having a heated conversation with his mother. When Damiano sees you his shoulders relax and his focus shifts.

“See?” Isabella gestures towards your approach. Dami folds you into a tight hug which your return. For a few seconds, you don’t have to think about what your face is doing. Based on how tense he was, Dami probably wanted to go find you and his mother insisted he remain seated. Doing otherwise would be fuel for rumors.

You and Damiano sit on a quilt. It’s a nice alternative to cold, metal bleachers that have made you butt numb. He also threw a blanket across your laps. You could feel his concerned gaze on you. Concealing your distress for his own good had you twisted up inside and he could sense the conflict below the surface.

“Later. We’re good.” He nods, expression unchanged, and pecks your lips. The game drags on, and while being tucked under Damiano’s arm is wonderful, the sensation that you’re being watched prevails. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin. At one point, you throw your legs over Dami’s lap so you can press your face against his coat and pretend to sleep. He can probably feel that you’re faking it right now, just as you could sense last night. He strokes your hair and fiddles with your scarf, attentive in a way that makes your chest feel warm despite everything.

When the crowd is focused on whether or not a goal is about to be made you pull Dami’s jacket aside and press your nose to his scent gland. He smells like the first warm rain of spring, when everything comes alive in the greenest hue of green. He also smells like you. Unfortunately this scent won’t stay on him permanently until you mate. On the other hand, his smell is now gaining prevalence in your pheromones because of the mark. It’s a sweet musk, the perfect encapsulation of Dami’s alpha role within your relationship.

Damiano should pull away from you. Scenting is considered inappropriate behavior for a public setting. This is close enough that if someone in front of you were to turn around they’d think you were rude. Luckily, his giant hood and shoulder pads shield you from the back and side with a modicum of privacy. Instead of stopping you, Damiano sits completely still and allows you to enjoy his pheromones. Rather than just smelling, you breathe in with your mouth open and eyes closed. The subsequent effects are powerful enough that you’re satisfied, slowly pulling back.

“Better?” he murmurs, readjusting his jacket to its normal position.

“Yeah,” you sigh, lacing your hands together under the blanket. You realize that you can figure this out if you’re always on the same team. You’d have to stand by Damiano, even when it challenged you.

Unfortunately, the effects of your little transgression don’t last very long and you’re craving scenting again. You couldn’t do it here. Lord knows, what people would have to say if the both of you disappeared somewhere private. Not in the car, but maybe Damiano could walk you upstairs. It’d have to be really rushed.

“Damiano, is she asleep?” Isabella whispered. When he looks down at you, your eyes flutter open to lovingly meet his gaze.

“I think so,” he responds. 

“When we drop y/n off, we should meet her family officially. I think it's far past time for that, don’t you?” Yep, they knew. Rather than banish you, Isabella had made it public that you were Damiano’s committed girlfriend. Sure, you felt a bit like a prop, but it was weirdly validating.

“Yeah, okay.” Dami looks back down at you, eyes wide open and ready to admire him from any angle you were provided. His hair fell around your face like a curtain. For a brief moment, it was only you two. It seemed that you realized simultaneously that this position was very similar to one you took last night, where Dami had pulled you sideways into his lap and cradled you. Sure it was just your legs across his lap today, but the blankets and shelter of all the layers created intimacy. Dami’s cock twitched against your thigh and he winced. 

“Stop thinking about it,” you whispered.

“I can’t,” Damiano blushed.

“Think about the game.”  He sighs, readjusts uncomfortably, and focuses on the scoreboard. The hand holding Dami’s is toasty and you rub your thumb to and fro. Damiano looks back at you and his expression becomes somewhat pained.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he demands, in a whisper.

“Like what?” 

“Like…how you were.”

“This isn’t how I looked when you knotted me,” you defend. Dami’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head. You’re not sure about what, speaking so softly it's not as if anyone else could hear.

“Why would you bring that up?” he hisses. Damiano’s cock jumps against your thigh again.

“I thought that's what we were talking about.”

“But don’t actually say it. That makes it so much worse.” You shrug and Damiano focuses on the field with a heavy sigh. There probably wasn’t any discernible difference and this was all in his head. Testing your theory, you try to emulate the expression you’d used while play-fighting. Damiano had put you on your back and you’d looked at him like you’d never dream of disobeying him again.

When Dami compulsively went to check on you again he actually froze. You hadn’t thought it would do much at all. Instead, these barely negligible changes in expression had a huge impact. Manipulating Dami with just your eyes was dangerously fun, but he looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

“Christ, really?” You drop the facade and his chest heaves. The smirk that appears on your face might get you in trouble later, but you can’t help it. Dami untangles your hands and turns his attention staunchly forward. He gently pushes your legs off of his lap so you’re sitting upright. His other arm remains around your shoulders, perhaps for appearances. 

Your stomach is sinking at the knowledge you’ve upset him. Dami’s arm pulls back too, but only so he can rub your back. It’s those long, soothing strokes he uses to comfort. He’s not angry. In fact, his hand finds your waist and pulls you closer. At the same time his stoic expression is focused on the field, like he’s refusing to look at your way.

“Love?” you murmur. Damiano turns to you immediately. His face is attentive, nothing else. 

“Hey,” he jostles you, pulling the blanket up on your lap. Out of relief you kiss him, but Damiano doesn’t allow it to be more than a brief peck.

“I’m not mad, but I need to not have a boner when I stand up. Your legs putting pressure on my lap was not helping.” Dami drops his head so he can whisper in your ear.

“Oh.” You wrap both arms around his torso under his unzipped coat. “This okay?” 

“Mhm.” Damiano pecks your forehead, watching the game.

“I promise I won’t do that thing with my eyes again. You can look at me.”

“But staring at these disgusting, sweaty, muddy alphas is much more effective.” You decide not to take it personally.

“When you’re warming up and it’s windy, you all look like blue marshmallows with legs.”

“So the height of masculinity?”

“Exactly.” He squeezes you and leans his head against yours. The gesture roughly translates to thank you for understanding. 

Romero barely loses the game, with both sides yelling at the referee. Dami gets so invested that he spends the last 10 minutes on his feet with Sandro. His profanity laden encouragement, screamed at Star, ended with you covering your ears. Athena was just as into it, but you could see Emmaline rolling her eyes from across the amphitheater. When Manchu is announced as the winner, you do get on your feet because being the only one seated felt strange. Daminao beamed when he saw you heckling beside him.

Filing out of the bleachers, you realized this was going to be Act 3. The Davids greeted the coaches from over the railing while Dami sprinted onto the field, jumping several feet in the air. He greets his teammates: fist bumping, shoulder checking, and straight up shoving each other to the ground in good spirit. There are a couple stragglers who seem too intimidated to partake and stand a couple yards away.

  Leaning against a fence post, you wait at the entrance to the field. You want to be in Dami’s line of sight when he looks for you. As he scans his surroundings, you wait for him to find you. It has become one of your greatest joys, to watch the change in Damiano’s face from searching to locating you. He lights up. 

After exchanging a few more greetings, he heads towards you. A younger player, one of the stragglers. follows behind him. He probably wants to say hi now that Damiano is not surrounded by other loud alphas.

“Ready to go?” Dami calls out.

“I don’t know, are you boys done with that mating dance?” He chuckles, and in the background Lars flaps his arms like wings and hops. Another player follows along, squawking.

“I don’t know them,” Dami jokes, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. Of course, this only encourages the team’s antics. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the scrawny player that had followed Damiano the first time he speaks.

“Oh shit, hey Mika. What's up?” Dami greets him warmly.

“I said, ‘you seem fine.’” You and Damiano look at eachother, trying to discern what the little shrimp was talking about. “You’re obviously fine, so why didn’t you play?” Dami is wracking his brain for anyone missing at yesterday’s practice, but you both realize that wouldn’t matter. This kid would be informed of the fight as soon as he stepped into the locker room this morning. He was trying to humiliate Dami, when all of Romero Soccer's attention was on him.

“Because the collegiate sports board isn’t a 7/11,” you snap. 

“But Julio was removed from the team. What’s there to evaluate?” Mika was smirking, trying to force Dami to out himself in front of dozens of spectators. Behind you, people were slowing down as they walked by. You scramble for an answer. Just cursing the little shit out was an omission of guilt.

“Nikolai.” You throw Damiano a life line and he takes it.

“I guess no one told you that either,” Damiano cringed. Pitying Mika for not earning inclusion in team conversations was so much more effective than attacking him.

“Nikolai is on probation and the board has to decide what to do with him.”

“Did you try to kill him too?”

“I didn’t try to kill anyone!” Damiano lashes out. You catch him by his wrist and pull him next to you.

“I just don’t understand why Nikolai and Julio aren’t even allowed to be here. Since, you’re obviously a danger to people around you. Everyone who knows agrees with me, but they just too scared –”

“You know I truly cannot imagine being this insecure.” Dami may not be willing to sink to Mika’s level but you’d happily make friendship bracelets with Hades. You’d take pleasure in crushing Dami’s enemies in the process of defending his honor. So he can see the confidence in your face, you look over to him. Damiano is petrified. Are you absolutely ready to go to war right here, right now, in front of god and everybody? Yes, but he’s not.

“Or should I say delusional. Everybody who? You’re the only one standing here. Literally look around yourself.” Mika does in fact, look around himself. “C’mon, let's go,” you pull Dami’s hand towards the parking lot. Before you can turn around, Mika recovers.

“That’s what I’m saying! They’re scared of him.” You force yourself to burst out laughing and look at Star from across the field. He understands that gaslighting is a group effort and starts chuckling, staring at Mika like he’s lost his mind.

“What the fuck are you even talking about? I’m actually so confused.” Acting as though the whole thing’s absurd was a shortcut to ruining Mika’a credibility. There's a place inside your heart where you know a shred of empathy should lay, but all that’s left is anger on your alpha’s behalf.

“I have no idea,” Star agrees. Mika’s head turns back and forth as he realizes the power of a vindictive omega.

“Julio attacked Dami. Dami defended himself. Julio got kicked off the team, but somehow Damiano is the unhinged, violent one? Julio isn’t even allowed to come to games!” People had stopped walking altogether, just to watch the spectacle. 

“Yeah, what are you even mad about?” says a voice you don’t recognize. 

“We lost because we were missing three of our best players and it's his fault! He shouldn’t even be on the team!”

“Thank you.” Damiano finally pipes up next to you. Everyone listening in has confusion on their faces.

“For saying I’m one of the best players on the team. That means a lot, man.” He even claps Mika on the shoulder while smirking. It’s his alpha smirk, his I know I’m the hottest one here smirk, his I have the power smirk. It means all his defenses are up, but also that he’ll be okay.   

Lars matches that expression, and suddenly Mika feels very small. Everyone has forgotten about the second sentence. He shouldn’t even be on the team. They’re all enraptured by this young, egotistical alpha being publicly humbled by his own.

“You should be thanking Dami, since you’re his alternate.”

“I’m not his alternate!” defends Mika.

“Oh, sorry I don’t know a lot about sports. What's it called when someone is only allowed to play if one of the good athletes can’t?” you ask Damiano. He scoffs and puffs his chest out.

“Good game, boys.” He raises his hand in farewell, and walks away, throwing an arm around your shoulders. You decide to keep the charade up as long as you’re being watched.

“That was so random. What is up with that kid?”

“I don’t know, maybe dehydration,” he shrugs, casually. Dami catches on so fast that you wonder if this isn’t the first time he’s had to perform.

“Are they gonna have to get him a doctor?”

“Maybe,” he sighs. “I sure hope not. I think he’ll feel okay after some electrolytes.”

“Is it ‘cause he’s never been on the field for a full game?” Usurping Mika’s last bit of credibility is vindicating. 

“I think…” Damiano squints his eyes while pretending to jog his memory. “Yeah, I think that’s the longest he’s been in a game.” A few seconds later you’re out of the crowd and walking across the parking lot. Sandro and Matteo are standing outside the car and Isabella comes up behind you, breathless.

“Good, that was good!” she assures, always watching. The best way to describe Damiano’s response to her words is that he shuts off. He shuts off his emotions, reactions, opinions, vulnerability, personality, affection. In the process he mutes your connection. The ways you can sense and anticipate each other is severed. When you reach out to understand it's like screaming into the universe’s largest expanse of emptiness. Sure, non-verbal episodes as a stress response weren’t uncommon with alpha-omegas, but this went so far beyond that. There’s no shape or light in the place you used to be connected. He’s not there. He occupies some other space, entirely unreachable.

You’d never appreciated your bond. It grew so gradually and paled in comparison to a mating bond. Now that Damiano had blocked everything out, your tethering point became a bloodied hole.

“Let me in. Let me in,” you whisper in his ear. The car was moving but your whole world felt at a stand still. Damiano hadn’t cared who sat in the middle seat. Now you had to wonder if he’d be compelled to protect you right now. No, you didn’t need his protection,  but after a year with a safety net that yawning chasm of fate feels less like a fact of life and more like inevitability.

 You try to hold Dami’s hand, but he barely responds. Even as you lean your forehead against his temple.

“Just let me in. You don’t have to let anyone else in,” you whisper. “Please, please, please, please.” Blocking someone less than a day after marking them had to be the height of cruelty. “Dami, you’re hurting me.” He doesn’t react. “Love, you’re hurting me.” Tears burn behind your eyes. Would this episode affect your mark? Would it develop normally or would this thrilling new intimacy be warped? 

“Just squeeze my hand.” You wait in rapture, knowing that he won’t punish you in an effort to punish himself. He’ll hold your hand back and you’ll start from there. You wait and you wait and that response never comes. If Dami wasn’t blinking, you’d assume he was unconscious, but even when you woke in the middle of the night it wasn’t like this. He wasn’t exhausted or preoccupied. Damiano was purposefully pushing you away with both hands and every ounce of his monstrous mental fortitude.

“This isn’t fair,” you whisper. “I want you just as you are.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek makes you realize that Damiano always leaned into your touches, ever so slightly. The meeting of your lips and his bare skin always changed his breathing. Now he’s a statue, like you mean nothing to him.

“There's something wrong with Dami.” Your voice shakes and the tears fall. Everyone looks at him. You expected someone to startle, instead it's as if they’ve seen it before. Sandro reaches across and shakes his knee.

“Dam? Damiano, c’mon. Dam?” Nothing. Your stomach turns and suddenly you can’t stand being in the same space as this creature who was once your boyfriend filled with energy and passion for life.

“Pull over.”

“What?” Matteo asks. “Here?” You nod.

“Pull over. Just pull over, it doesn’t matter.” He idles on the shoulder outside an abandoned industrial building. You clamber out of the car. After a few breaths of fresh air the nausea abates, but everytime you look at him it comes back. For the first time, you could describe the exact color and shape of Damiano’s soul. The weight, texture, and the way it shimmered in the sun, or sung with the wind on stormy afternoons. You could do all these things, because you now knew what he looked like without it.

“Can you hand me my backpack?” you cry, covering the ugly noises your mouth is making with one hand. Sandro picks it up and reaches across Dami’s body, handing it over. Damiano’s eyes follow. For a millisecond you can see him, cowering in the farthest corner of his brain. Or maybe you’re imagining it to stay sane.

“Sometimes the stress after an episode makes him non-verbal. We already know that it’s a normal –”

“No! This is not non-verbal. My sister Thalia goes non-verbal when she gets overstimulated. This isn’t – he’s not…” A sob shakes you so completely that you sit down in the grass. Matteo turns off the engine and switches on the hazard lights. Isabella gets out and walks around the car.

“These episodes are usually very short. He’ll probably be fine within the next couple days.”

“Fine?” you seeth. “A person does not go from that to fine in 24 hours, or a week, or probably a fucking month!” Part of you is aware that this isn’t the way to talk to your alpha’s mother, but a significantly larger part doesn’t care.

“I know the catatonia –”

“Catatonia!? He’s not there, Isabella. He’s not fucking there!” You point to your head while tears run down your face. “Do you understand? There’s nothing on the other end. He’s not there!” No beta could begin to comprehend this, but Isabella is an alpha. She takes a deep breath and nods and that's all you can make out between the sobs. Everyone's expressions are blurry, but you don’t care about their condemnation or absolution. Let them think what they want about your reaction.

“That is not stress! He’s – he’s just…he doesn’t want to interact with the world.” you sob, gasping for air. He doesn’t want to be here are the words you can’t bear to say. Isabella places a maternal hand on your back but enrages you rather than comforts. Isabella, who made Dami come to the game where he was ambushed and judged.

“If you knew this could happen, why make him go today?” you demand, furious. “You should have protected him! If he’d stayed at home this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Or something else could have triggered it.”

“And I could hypothetically get hit by a bus at any minute which is why I don’t walk into the street with my eyes closed!!” Outright screaming is a sign this interaction needs to end. “I’m sorry for yelling. I’ll walk home.” The words are mechanical, and you never meet anyone's eyes.

“Honey, that's going to be at least an hour,” Matteo calls. You can’t look back, already crying so hard that walking is difficult. Crying so hard you can’t even hear when the car drives away. Crying so hard that you don’t hear your mother trying to get your attention when she pulls up next to you.

“Y/n? Y/n? Darling, the Davids called me. They explained what’s going on.” You trip on the curb trying to get into the car. Landing on the asphalt reminds you of all the times Dami caught your clumsy ass, which just increases the despair. The ride home is a couple minutes, during which you try to get your shit together.

“Is Clio home?” you sniff.

“Yes, she is,” your mother replies evenly.

“Fuck,” you groan, rubbing your flushed face. 

“I’ll make sure she goes easy on you.” Walking into your house was a mix of emotions. At this moment you’d be dreading the Davids driving away and wishing you had more time with Dami. Right now, you miss Damiano, but can’t stand being around him.

As soon as you get your shit together it all goes to pieces again. First thing you do is take off your coat, Dami’s coat. The memory of how animated he was this morning is torture. After the shoes and the jacket you take off your scarf out of habit, revealing the evidence that you’d been marked. 

Crying some more while mom makes camomile tea only gives you a headache. When Clio walks into the kitchen, you know it’s about to hurt like a brain aneurysm.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re 15!” she exclaims, first thing. “I’m gonna kill him for deceiving you like this. There’s things that you don’t even know about and –”

“I know,” your croak. “I know about all of it and I provided informed, enthusiastic consent, so you can fuck off.” 

“And the fact that you were okay with it is just evidence that you’re not old enough to make this decision, oh shit.” You burst into tears again. Clio takes three steps forward and crushes you in a hug.

“I’m gonna get snot all over you.”

“Don’t care. I’m going to castrate him with a butter knife,” she pledges.

“Please don’t. He’s not the reason I’m crying. I mean, he is, but not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?” she questions, harshly. Clio pulls back to look at your face.

“He didn’t hurt me, but he’s in a shitty situation. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him and I just feel so much empathy that I can’t – can’t” you gasp, followed by a sob. Mom hands Clio a paper towel for you to blow your nose. Clio analyzes you for a few moments, gaze scrupulous. 

“Come with me.” Your sister drags you to the bathroom and rips off the bandage. She must examine the bite for a full minute, before stepping back.

“I assume you’re checking y/n’s mark,” mom calls. “How’s it looking?”

“Immaculate,” admits Clio begrudgingly. “There’s nothing left for me to do,” she calls. “No discoloration, no sign of infection, no rash, no irritation, no discharge. I could put a bandage on it, but it’s already scabbed over.”

“Well, that’s excellent!” Mom is trying to interject as much positivity as possible into the conversation via her tone of voice.

“Maybe the bastard does care about you as much as you think he does,” Clio mumbles. This makes you smile, but then your eyes water.

“Sit sideways,” she demands. You sit sideways on the closed toilet lid so she can brush your hair. It's sort of her love language. Clio takes it down out of the jumbo scrunchie pensively. 

“I thought you lost this.”

“Lent it to Dami. There's a picture in the school newsletter. He kept it by his bed all week.”

“Sentimental bastard.” Clio pulls her phone out of her pocket and switches to your email. She stares at the picture in her nondominant hand while brushing with the other.

“Hmm” is the extent of her retort. After detangling she methodically applies hair oil and creates plaits. Mom brings you a cup of tea, communing from a seat on the edge of the bathtub. 

“So, yesterday?” she asks. You nod in return. The way Clio braided was way more complex than you had the patience to learn. Her beautiful, delicate hands worked painstakingly.

“I hope it was…I hope you feel content with it.” Clio radiates disapproval, but she doesn’t speak up.

“He was amazing,” you whisper, staring at the grout. “I wasn’t scared. I felt respected.” Even talking about Damiano in a hoarse murmur was almost too much. “It was my choice, all of it. I picked exactly when I got marked.” Mom nodded, shifting her grip on the tea mug, thoughtfully.

“You picked a good one,” she decided, then dropped the topic. Her and Clio chatted back and forth, just ambient noise. Your neck was stiff by the end of it, but the result was beautifully intricate. You admire how shiny your hair is in the mirror, no longer feeling the urge to blubber.

“Thank you.”

“It’s lovely work Clio.” She gives a tight lipped smile in response, standing with her hands on her hips.

“Stress is such a vague term,” she proclaims. You know it's in reference to the details mom had shared with her. This entire time Clio has been contemplating the situation.

“I think he really loves parts of his life, but sometimes it gets too overwhelming for him to tolerate. Isabella just accepts that, but I don’t.”

“And you shouldn’t,” Clio agrees. “His parents are being irresponsible.”

“I’m sure it's a very complex situation,” added your mother. Such a gentle mannered woman had ended up with three daughters that were all just different brands of incendiary. 

“They’re trying to do the right thing for him, but it feels like they never talk about it. There was just this protocol decided on at some point and they’re gonna stick with that forever.” Your mother nods in agreement and the bathroom is silent for a minute.

“Do you feel like now you could stand to be around him?” Clio asks, folded arms.

“Uh, yeah. Him shutting me out was just…too much.”

“It’s not about you though, he’s shutting everybody out.”

“He could have made an exception!” you snap.

“Or maybe he couldn’t,” Clio countered. “Maybe it was just too hard. Anyways, my point is that he needs you right now because you advocate for him. If that’s too much pressure, fine. That’s fair, you’re only 15.. But if it’s not, we should go.”

***

You call Isabella before leaving, just to make sure you hadn’t offended her to the point of banishment. Surprisingly, you hadn’t offended her at all. She thought your presence may be a great idea, but only as long as it wasn’t detrimental to your own health. You agree, when what you really want to say is that nothing could be worse for my mental health then the haunting void in my mind where Damiano used to be.

His room is dark: lights off, shades drawn. If not for his pheromones, you might not have known Dami was under all those blankets. At least he smelled the same, that was a comfort.

“Hey it’s me, here to ruin your peace and quiet.” He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. “Make any sound if you want me to leave you alone.” Again nothing, but Dami had been absolutely silent since you left the parking lot. Trying to figure out if he’s asleep, you lightly place your hand on his back and can feel his heartbeat racing. He’s probably too anxious to sleep.

“How about, stay in that exact position if you want me to leave.” You brace for it to be like holding his hand earlier, but Damiano pulls up the corner of a quilt, inviting you to lay beside him. You squeal in excitement, crawling over.

He doesn’t pull you against him, but he does hold eye contact, which is his second effort to engage with the world around him.

“Look at you, being a chatty Cathy,” you wink. “Oh shit, was that insensitive? God damn it I never know when to stop talking and, oh no.” The preemptive embarrassment hits you. “Oh, it's just gonna be so much worse now, too,” you groan, before catching yourself. “But, like no pressure! Take all the time you need. In the meantime, I…well, we’re gonna need some sort of signal for you to tell me to shut up. Do you have a bell?” You sit up, evaluating the trinkets in reach for their usefulness. “Hmm, no bell, but maybe something else that makes noise? Oh, I know!” You sink down to the pillow again. “Get one of those spray bottles they use for cats that are misbehaving. Do you have a plant mister? I'm pretty sure they’re – mm!”

Damiano kisses you. He just lurches forward and puts his mouth on yours. Technique wise, it's your worst kiss, but you still throw yourself into it. One hand comes to cup the side of his face and you stroke his cheek. You try to coax him forth, into the kiss, but it doesn’t work. He doesn’t touch you and it wouldn’t matter if he had both arms wrapped around you. It’s sort of like kissing a stranger. It feels like you’re cheating on Dami.

Compared to the normal raging inferno, you’ve got no chemistry. It’s how romantic and sexual interactions were before Dami. This was the part that was so impossible to explain, how being alone in a closed room with the right alpha could be more compelling than actual sex with someone else.

“My love,” you coo, pulling Damiano towards you. Gentle wasn’t working, so your other hand snaked under his waist and around his torso. You throw your leg over his, trying to tangle your bodies together. Dami isn’t registering that the licking and pushing at his lips with your tongue is a request. Once he opens his mouth to take a breath though, you trace the inside of his lip. What a stupid mistake to think that French kissing would work well right now. In any other situation you’d give up, embarrassed. But Damiano was trying to engage after being so completely crushed by stress that he had a trauma reaction. 

“Okay, hey. Why don’t you just lay on top of me?” You flip into missionary position, arms extended. Dami gives you a strange look and awkwardly flops down. You’re hell bent on getting his face by your scent glands. 

“C’mere, baby. Come up here. Mhm.” You cup the base of his head and press Damiano’s face against your mark. He bumps it painfully with his nose and you wince. Physicality wasn’t why this worked well. It worked because underneath it all, you were highly biologically compatible. That was still intact, if you could just get him to open up and feel it.

“Think about how you smell,” you whisper, and wait a full minute. “Now focus on how I smell.” After a few seconds, Dami’s hand crawls up the bed, and laces itself with yours. Somehow, some way, that resonated with him. 

 “That mark is yours.” Your voice wobbles, but you keep the tears at bay. “I’m yours.” Without your explicit permission, your legs have wrapped themselves around Dami. The weight, heat, and smell of his body are all the same. You’re battling primal parts of the brain that interact minimally with your conscious mind. They’re screaming: I know who this is! We know who this is! 

Out of reflex, you internally reach for Damiano’s presence, already anticipating his absence. It still sucks. It feels like Dami is braced with his back to the door and you’re trying to donkey kick it open with both feet. It’s exhausting on both ends. 

“I smell so good because the diversity between our immune systems is compatible. Even in the ways we're different, we’re –” He shakes his head, growling against your neck. Damiano tries to create space, but you end up on your side, noses pressed together.

“You can feel it. I belong to you, so you marked me.” There’s comprehension in Damiano’s eyes. “Which is why you can smell yourself inside me. I’m y/n and I belong to you and I asked you to mark me so you don’t just get to abandon me. No!” you growl in frustration, as Damiano’s eyes switch to looking straight through you. He’s totally checked out in a way so unsettling it makes you nauseous. Mentally, Dami has wedged a chair under the door knob, but you’ve started to work on removing the hinges.

“Do you even care that you made love to me and knotted me and marked me and I liked it so fucking much even though it hurt? It was special! You don’t just get to…Stop pretending I’m not right in front of you!”.

Dami’s face crumples. He looks sickened with guilt, on the verge of tears. His expression breaks your heart, but at the same time you feel elated. This person, however tortured, was Damiano. He wants to run and hide so you use every ounce of your strength to keep him close.

“Stop pushing me away!” You attempt to make your voice commanding instead of petulant and desperate. Damiano tries to wrench himself out of your grip, but you both know it's bullshit. Damiano is incredibly strong. So if he really wanted to be free, he could throw you across the room. Or he could inflict pain to make you let go. He does neither. This is why you decide, possibly against your better judgment, to force the issue. 

“Let me in. You can do it, it’s just me.” Damiano turns his face away, which you use as an opportunity to press your lips to his ear. “Mine. Mine, mine, mine.” The reminder that he belongs to you, just as you belong to him, is too much. Or perhaps claiming him, as he tried to run from himself, was what earned rejection. Either way, Dami flips over and turns his back to you.

“Damiano, I am proud to be your omega. Damiano, you are brave. You are loved. You are in control.” He lashes out and bites your arm. The mark won’t even last until tomorrow. Instead of moving it out of range, you reposition your forearm to the exact spot it rested when Dami nipped you. This upsets him enough to let out a angry whine of betrayal for the apparently unforgivable crime of believing in him.

“Damiano, I’m proud to be your omega.” Now he exerts some strength, pinning you to the bed haphazardly with his chest and both hands. You’re on your side, arm crushed underneath.Using your free hand, you move the braid from covering your neck. Further revealing the most vulnerable place on your body, rather than using this moment to guard it. He growls and yips, like trusting him is even more offensive than providing affirmations. Damiano grabs both your wrists in one hand and painfully wrenches them to the side. Now immobilized, he rests his teeth right on your jugular vein and snarls terrifyingly.

“Bullshit,” you spew, trying to wiggle free. He keeps a tight hold on your wrists and brings his teeth to your trachea. You try not to cower. Instinctually, the response is fear, even though you know it's an empty threat. 

“You’re not even letting yourself go into headspace because you’re too fucking concerned about actually scaring me.” You challenge him right back with a snarl that encompasses all the frustration of today..

With your faces pressed together, you both bare your teeth. It's more exhilarating than anything else. Damiano had never interacted this way, even though you knew it was a side of him that existed. Calling his bluff makes Dami drop the act. In the wake, you catch tenderness in his eyes.

 “This isn’t your fault. None of it is your fault. You are free of blame. You are free of guilt.” He seems to give up on scaring you off. The threat was so empty, that it was more of a test than anything. Would you still want him not pretty and polished for everyone’s consumption? Could he trust that? He rolls over and curls fetal, making himself small in a way you’d never seen an alpha behave before. Gritting your teeth, you persevere.

“Why are you running from how I feel about you? To punish yourself? You’re not allowed to twist up my love for you like that,” you growl. “Stop it. I don’t consent to have my love used that way.” There it was. You’d admitted it. Damiano lets out a choking sob and takes the wall away. It’s like breaking through the surface after a riptide has kept you under water within an inch of your life. He’s everywhere again, in every sense. There's even parts of yourself you get back. Not because he took them, but because the wind blows a flower’s seed across the fence, and upon finding greener pastures the new bloom flourishes. 

In the same way, parts of Damiano that were wrenched away had wallowed in their grief, sickening you. Their sharp, broken corners left stinging cuts on the soft tissue of your insides. It was no longer possible for you to be whole and separate. 

“Hello my love,” you choke. “Thank you for coming back to me, I missed you.” Kiss. So very –” kiss, kiss “much!” He’s still curled up in a defensive position as you kiss his face. Silently, tears are streaming down his cheeks. It’s healthy, even if it's hard to watch.

“I meant what I said about taking your time. Don’t just stuff it all down as soon as it feels manageable. This time things are going to change so you don’t have to keep going back to this place to survive.” Dami flips on his back, face hardened, and pulls you onto his chest. His legs come up and wrap around your thighs too. It's a strange position, but you don’t dislike it. 

His cheek is pressed to your forehead, so Damiano’s tears wet your face as well. This is how you can tell that things aren’t getting better. He���s still crying just as hard 15 minutes later, jaw trembling. Dami is clutching you the way a child clutches a teddy bear. Perhaps you’re not actively doing much, but if he didn’t have a secure hold on you that would make the whole thing too overwhelming to even consider.

“I love being this close to you.” You let those words stand alone for a few seconds. “Is there some way I could make this moment better? I could rub your feet, massage your back, play with your hair, put lotion on. Is there a specific type of touch that’d make you feel better?” Dami shakes his head and squeezes tighter. “Okay,” you agree, content. You’d got him back in the way that matters most. There were far worse things than being Dami’s teddy bear. Plus, this was heaven compared to him not holding your hand in the car.

At some point he realizes your forehead is all wet and releases you. You wipe it off with your hand and attempt to evaluate the situation. This was the second day you’d helped Damiano through a crisis. If he was in crisis, there was nowhere in the world you’d prefer to be than by his side. However, this one could have been avoided. Dami’s hatred and fear of these episodes made much more sense. It was never just a health event. He had to reconcile whatever harm he’d caused, save face, apologize the exact right way, damage control, justify his existence to a board of some sort, pretend he was unaffected, pretend it was insignificant. He had to parade himself around for the judgment of others, making sure it ended up favorably.

Even before that, he had to deal with injuries, public appearances, medical treatment that fucked with his hormones, exhaustion, and nightmares (apparently). Then there were the subsequent doctor’s visits. The following non-verbal episodes were just his mind and body trying to survive all that anxiety and dread. 

“I was just thinking about how this is a proportional reaction to everything you’ve been subjected to.” He’s expressionless. Despite this, within yourself, Damiano feels just as present as usual. 

“Hey, never do that dead eyed, soulless thing with me again, okay?” He nods diligently, visibly burdened with guilt and other crushing emotions. That's not what you wanted at all. You kiss his cheek and pivot to a bright tone.

 “Do you want some water?” He nods, which is encouraging. “Food?” He shakes no. “Okay,” you accept without argument. “I’ll be back.”

Sandro, Isabella, and Matteo are all standing in the kitchen when you walk in. It’s painfully awkward, considering you just had a full blown mental breakdown on the side of the road in front of them.

“Ugh, sorry, excuse me.” You open the cupboard and take a glass out, filling it with water from the sink.

“If he seems thirsty you should give him this.” Anxiously, Isabella takes a bottle out of the fridge. “Electrolytes, some calories.” When she hands it over, you decide to take both. Sandro clears his throat roughly, probably a nervous tick.

“Is everything okay?” Matteo asks, timidly. You’re not sure what to say. Obviously, it is very not okay.

“He’s not getting worse,” you volunteer, to avoid giving anything away. Maybe communicating with you was the only thing that felt manageable. You weren’t about to create expectations that he had to meet. No one pressed you further after this nondescript answer, so you returned to the bedroom. Damiano had opened the furthest shade an inch, just enough light to see. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back turned to the window.

“Hey, your mom gave me this,” you hand over the bottled drink. “But I also got this.” He takes both and drinks the glass of water. Each ends up on the nightstand. 

“So…I want you to know that you can kick me out whenever you want. Don’t feel obligated or like – okay. Okay!” He starts tugging your arms. “Okay, Dami,” you giggle, being lifted you onto his lap. Again, he wraps his arms and legs around you, but this time you come to rest on your side.

“I wasn’t saying right now, but eventually when you want space, Daammm!” This time he rolls so your face is pressed into a pillow and your voice muffled. “So you’re happy I came over, then?”  He nods harshly, rubbing his face along the fabric of your top like a cat, casually dispersing some pheromones as a result. “I’m happy I’m here, too.” Damiano starts nuzzling your neck and you feel like a dumbass for not thinking of it earlier.

“Do you want me to scent you?” He disentangles himself from you and hops out of bed. At first you’re confused, until you hear the door latch. Dami pulls off his sweatshirt and tee then throws himself on the mattress beside you. He’s almost smiling, like he’s holding his mouth in a straight line, rather than having no emotion to move his face. The mock neck of the long sleeve you’re wearing gets in the way before you can even start. While it was a great look for hiding your mark, it’s a real pain in the ass right now.

First, you attempt to roll it down, but that only works if you use your hand constantly. Going shirtless might seem presumptuous and the last thing Dami needs right now is more pressure. So you end up crouched over his chest, biting your lip in thought. 

Damiano raises his hands and rests them on your back. He begins unbuttoning the dress, making the decision for you. While he works, you rest your forehead against his, treasuring this moment. He pushes the right sleeve down, then the left. Finally, he reaches into your dress and grabs the hem of your undershirt. Dami pulls it off your head, catching your hairstyle in the process. After the top is discarded, he examines the braid with a grip on the hair tie. Dami appreciates all angles.

“Since I was little Clio has done my hair when I’m really sad about something.” You wince as soon as the words leave your mouth. Dami’s face changes, but there's no platitude or assurance for this. Devastation wasn’t an overreaction and you both knew it. Instead of trying to fill the space, you lean down and run your right scent gland across his pecs and collarbones, ending by fitting your neck to his. It's a little sore from the bruising. You can’t just haphazardly rub against him and roll around in bed like animals.

Dami notices your limited movement and remembers to check your scent gland. He sits up, examining the mark on your left side carefully.

“It’s healing well,” you assure. He nods, laying down with a sigh. Any stress relief is negated. You try a different tactic, fitting your neck against him against his again. Resting there, you carefully brush back and forth, focusing on being thorough. After a minute you move up to his jaw, then cheek, then hair. His body relaxes underneath yours. His hands on your back grow limp and when you check on his expression, Damiano’s eyes are fluttering.

With both hands, you stroke his head, massage his scalp, play with his hair, run your nails along his undercut. The way he rubbed your ears in the shower yesterday was heavenly so you try to do the same. You start by tracing along the cartilage, rubbing the shell of his ear, pulling the lobe between your fingers. 

When that’s done, you quietly open the drawer in search of lotion. It’s hilarious that sexually liberated Dami still uses lotion to masturabate instead of lube. However, it makes your life easier right now. With a couple pumps in your palm, you run your hands down his chest and abdomen. Starting at the top, you work the meat of your hand into the muscle of his pecs. You’ve never massaged someone's chest, not really sure how to do it. He seems to be enjoying it with little rumbling hums which is all that really matters anyways.

From sternum down you’re at a loss. There’s no muscle on his ribs to massage and having someone press on your stomach sounded unpleasant. Instead, you just rub the cream in. Switching to his forearms comes with new ideas. You apply gentle pressure while running your hand up and down. You use your thumbs to massage Dami’s hand. There's obviously a lot of muscle in the area, but you have no idea how to treat it. Still, he seems to enjoy this most of all so you repeat it on the other side. 

Next your attention is turned to his legs. Paying so much attention to his thighs may result in certain circumstances you were unsure how to navigate. Damiano saves you the worry by flipping over. It was wonderful to see him accept some generous comfort, asking for it without words. He allows himself to relax under your gentle touch like never before. You realize it's probably because he’s not battling impulses. He’d marked you less than a day ago so those demanding, alpha sexual impulses were quieted. For now. There needed to be a system of consent put in place soon.

Damiano whiles beneath you. In a moment of thought, your hands had stilled. You smiled because it was the most he’d communicated with you all day.

“All right, all right,” you respond fondly. “No need to complain about it, geez.” Although it felt counterintuitive, in Dami’s position you’d loath being treated like glass. Maintaining some sense of normalcy was important. As soon as you worried about the teasing being one-sided however, Dami used his hips to knock you off him. You laughed while climbing back to your previous position. Not because it was particularly funny, but because you were relieved. Even within the circumstances, your dynamic was completely preserved. 

“Ingrate,” you muttered, squirting the cold lotion directly onto his back. He let out a sound of displeasure. You leaned forward and kissed the back of his head before continuing. Damiano was so muscular from all the sports he played that your hands grew sore.

“Your shoulders are like massaging concrete by the way.” You sat up and took a break, shaking your hands to stop them from cramping. Dami turned onto his back again and extended his arms towards you, releasing you from the obligation. Happily, you rested under his chin and enjoyed having your hair stroked until his hands were tired as well. Then you just lay in silence and that was okay.

Notes: I’ve noticed in hurt/comfort stories that everyone just moves on and there’s no emotional consequence from traumatic events. That’s not realistic with the amount of pressure alpha Dami has been under so you’re in for a bit more angst

Masterlist

@asianhawkeye-blog @bieberhoodforever @blackberryblossom @butkutee @cuzimitaliano @elvirabelle @ethaneskin @iamtashaquinn @icarodamiano @idyllicbutterfly @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @mortyandem @ohdamiano @the-chaotic-cow @theimpossiblehologramtree @wasteddoubts @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia @woahzz11 @8iunie @azertyhug @biancathecool @xweirdxsceletton @bohemianrainbow @boyswillbeexecutied @daisy0gf @dustyinkpages @katyldamusic @minnietmouse @obiw4n @persona1read1ng @ch3rryk4ii @gr8rainbowpunk @hiraetheral @homesicam @iosonoarina @l0standn0tf0und @que--sera--sera @stardustingold @superchrystaldrug @teenyweenynightghost @damoriaa @teacosea @softmullet @solacestyles @thegeminisgirl @bobfood @slavicgoddess

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

[terrence-silver]

❝  i think about anything happening to you and i— i just.  i fucking lose it.  ❞ for Terry McCain? ❤️

---

-"This is a big shift. From a Chicago Detective to a country boy out on a farm."-

You remark, not unaffectionately, but perhaps curiously, staring out the rustic, wooden window overlooking the vast grassy backyard of Terry's familial farmstead that a lay a couple of hours worth a drive away from the outskirts of the city, nestled in the bosom of the mellow Illinois countryside, appearing almost Rockwellian in it's style; like a big, traditional Irish family once dwelled here when Terry was a boy and like nothing has been significantly changed or touched since, everything exactly the way it was left, maybe years and years ago. Lace curtains on, old fences outdoors that embraced the entire estate from all sides and a remote road that disappeared and blended into the horizon, like a straight line. He brought you here when the street violence against his colleagues at the police station got progressively worse. Convinced you you'd be safe here. Protected. Out of sight, at least, for a while, until all the dust settled down. It is not that you were ungrateful. It was beautiful here. Very peaceful. A part of Terry himself, in a sense. A big contrast, though. One you weren't exactly certain you consented to. But, he told you he didn't require you to agree with it. He just wanted you to be okay. Alive. That was all he needed. -"Yeah?"- You hear his voice, questioning, an act only followed by his hands on your shoulders, turning you away from the window to look at him. -"That's the whole point."- He reaffirms, seeming entirely honest and blunt, only to grow instantly heated, brimming with concern.

The topic of your safety always tended to agitate Terry.

-"It's dangerous out there. All that traffic and all those streets and alleys and me never knowing ---"-

He starts, only to halt just as abruptly in his tracks, seeming exasperated with stress, shaking his head, staring you down as he mustered the will to continue. This wasn't the first time you two had this conversation. -"Never knowing what the fuck can happen to you the minute I'm not looking."- He adds, continuing finally, his fingers caressing your cheek soothingly, his entire hand so big it nearly overwhelms your whole face with ease. -"I think about anything happening to you and I— I just....I fucking lose it, okay?"- He reassures and you didn't want to seem ungrateful or overly argumentative just for the sake of being argumentative. You understood just why Terry was doing this. You weren't stupid. Gang retaliation was no joke and he's lost more colleagues and acquittances than he could account for, fearing that you were only fair game too. If the Mob was willing to take out other Officers and Detectives, what was to prevent them from taking you out? An ordinary, unarmed civilian? That was, at least, Terry's assessment of the situation. Pity settles in your gut. Whenever you questioned Terry, it almost felt like kicking an overly affectionate puppy; profoundly wrong and heartbreaking. -"Out here? There's nobody coming and nobody's gonna find you."- He explains, and in spite of attempting to be empathetic, that's exactly what you feared. Nobody coming and nobody finding you. Nobody but him. The nearest small town was forty miles away down a dirt road connecting to a highway and everything that surrounded the farm was plains and grasslands as far as the eye could see.

What if he was to take a liking to this?

Having you here?

Barricaded up until further notice?

The Mafia itself called this sort of tactical safehouse retreat in times of gang violence 'hitting the mattresses'. You saw it mentioned in The Godfather once. In Terry's vocabulary, though? It was called being smart. But, how long? How long would it last, you wondered?

-"Yeah, but, Terry, you can't keep me here by force for my own safety. I get that you're worried. I understand, but still, we can't just allow ourselves to be too afraid to live. It's not healthy --- you can't do this."-

You try to reason with him, attempting to be as gentle as possible as to not have him misunderstand your intent and make it seem like you were angry with him. You weren't angry. You felt soft and absolutely touched that he went to these lengths to make sure you'd be okay, but he couldn't allow himself to succumb to paranoia and doubt every shadow at every corner and every possible thing that ever could happen potentially, pushing through every day like it was a siege. It would drive him insane. In fact, it was already driving him insane and you wanted to spare him the anxiety. Spare him the worry. The mental strain. Make him comprehend that nothing's going to happen to you, precisely because you were a nobody. Just some civilian. To no avail, it seemed. -"I can if I want to."- He interjects, straight to the point, his fingers caressing the place where your neck met your shoulder blades, quickly reaching over to the window behind you and pulling the curtains back into place, obscuring you from view. What view? There was nobody here. Maybe the occasional farmer driving a tractor down the dirt road. -"I prefer it to losing you any day."- He remarks once his attention is back on you, his embrace emanating warmth caught in the thick fabric of his sweater, the leather holster of his gun digging into your arm right before he reaches into it, opens it and pulls out a firearm, handing to you once he's done hugging you. You stare at him, mouth agape. What? He expected you to use that in case...in case of something happening? Was that even legal? He catches the hesitation on your face.

Reassuring you softly.

-"I can pull you out of jail, but I can't pull you out of the grave. You know that quote?"-

#yes a quote by notorious lawyer toma fila to his wife after he gave her a gun for self-defense #you guys can just tell i'm from the balkans by that one #but it seems like a line terry mccain would ADORE #terry mccain #excessive force #excessive forcr 1993 #terry mccain x reader #terry mccain x beloved #tw; hostage situation #tw; manipulation #tw; gaslighting #tw; affectionate yandere #tw; possessiveness

[snwusberry]

warning(s): none

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THIS IS FICTION AND DOESN'T DEPICT THE ACTUAL PEOPLE IRL

beomgyu's point of view

poor kaya is absolutely clueless of everything. she came back from her parents' house talking about some 'yeosang is going to vagas with the boys'

the boys being san, wooyoung and seonghwa. at least one sane one is there but judging how he is around them... i still have zero faith in this little sting operation.

"no offense but your brother is an idiot." taehyun tells me from his seat next to kai.

"please say that to his face with all the offense possible." i sigh. no i'm still not over this. "i mean, i would've been engaged by now, hmm? kaya would be wearing her customised ring and all would be fine but here i am thinking of ways to get her another ring. it won't have as much meaning but as long ad i propose to the woman i love most right?" haha... right?

"gyu are you crying?" kai loudly asks.

"don't be ridiculous."

"you're totally crying."

"i'm not. the dust level in here is high." i tell him, brushing him off.

"oh my apologies..."

we turn to the owner of the voice, not really expecting anyone else to be here other the three of us and there stands soobin with a feather duster in hand.

"mom was talking about this vase and how no one cleans it so, you know, i decided to, well, clean it." he sheepishly smiles.

"don't fucking lie, you wanted to listen in!" jongho shouts from the other room and we turn back to soobin.

"i'll go."

"wait. i need another opinion and i can't ask yeonjun because he's out with minji and i cant ask jongho because he's... jongho, you know."

"i heard that asshole!"

"i'm glad to be your third choice." he says walking in to sit down.

"it's a pleasure. i'm going through the motions for real."

"the ring?" he asks and i nod.

"san is going back to vagas to go look for the man who won the ring."

"and if he's not in the city?" he questions.

that's what i said...

"then he'll search the country."

"if he fled?" that's literally what i said...

"he'll scour around."

"and what if he's dead?" HE'S IN MY HEAD because i said the exact same thing.

"i don't know man. i'm tired of being mad at him, you know."

"then don't." taehyun interjects and i throw a cushion at him.

"stay out of it."

"it's his family's heirloom..." kai tells me and i pause.

"it is, isn't it?" taehyun raises his hands in surrender. "look i'm sorry about... lashing out. i won't use stress as an excuse so, i'm sorry. and also for the whole ring situation. i know saying that won't bring it back or anything but i feel terrible about it being lost because of my brother's carelessness. i don't even think he'll find the man, it's been two-three days and he probably knows he won't find it but he'll still go out there because he feels bad. i just... wanted this to be a special christmas for kaya and here i am with a lost ring and no back bone to tell your parents about everything. yeosang was probably right-"

i'm cut off with a loud yawn coming from soobin. way to ruin my pity party.

" i was having an emotional monolog here..." i tell him, turning to him with a raised eyebrow.

"beomgyu, yeosang wasn't saying all that shit because he meant it, granted, he wasn't wrong-" taehyun cuts in.

"hey!!"

"bottom line is, he knows you're gonna take care of kaya. he's known that from the start. he, just like me, was just keeping kaya's best interest in mind. we're her brothers, of course we'd have a lot to say. what i'm saying is, don't beat yourself up over this. you can still make this christmas special for her." taehyun adds, putting a hand on my shoulder.

they gave me a hard time when i first revealed my feelings for kaya to them. i mean, they had a field day not only teasing me about it but also talking shit about me to her. it was all in good fun, of course.

"group hug!!" kai yells out of nowhere and before i can even get a word out they've all come enveloping me in a group hug.

"thanks guys." i tell them, voice muffled and everything.

"it's a pleasure."

"i love you guys." we all pull apart, turning to the intruder in confusion. "what? a man can't love his brethren anymore? jeez." jongho says, walking away.

"is he okay?" kai asks and we just shrug.

who knows what goes on in his head.

"guess who's back family!!"

well hayoon and yeonjun are back. happily married couple with their happy little family.

"we brought gifts!!" yeonjun who had his perfect little engagemen-

"what did you bring us?" kai asks and yeonjun scans him up and down.

"no one told me we had extra mouths to feed. what a surprise."

" no need to be petty, we were on our way anyway." taehyun says, dragging kai along with him.

"okay first of all, not cool." hayoon tells yeonjun and he shrugs. "where's kaya?" she asks at not seeing her in the room with us.

"running errands with mom." i tell her and she nods.

"she's never here." she wipes a fake tear from her face.

"yeah seems like every december we never get to spend time with our partners!" yeonjun says out loud and earns a knock on the head from hayoon. "i mean, of course you'd all wanna catch up with each other and all that fun stuff right?"

i roll my eyes.

kaya's point of view

so like... we weren't supposed to get this much stuff. like at all but we got carried away shopping for this whole secret santa thing. i ain't forget.

so we're sitting in a café to warm up amd refuel, charge our phones eat...

"ma."

"hmm?"

"is it just me or is beomgyu avoiding me?" i ask her and she looks up from her phone to look at me in confusion.

"what do you mean?"

"we got here this week, everything was fine the day we arrived but then two days ago, he started acting different."

"different how my dear?"

"you know, like, distant, avoidant just overall different..." i trail off but then gasp almost a second later. "did he see bis childhood crush while i was out with the girls?"

"don't be ridiculous kaya. even if he did, he's long over her." she explains and i shrink in my seat. "as for how he's acting, you should really tell him this. you know, like what if he's not doing it on purpose? if that doesn't work then i'll drag him by the washing-"

"ma..." i cut her off, laughing at the image of her dragging a grown man by the sweater. "that won't be necessary. i'll talk to him." i reassure her.

it can't be anything too serious right? he wouldn't bring me here if he was planning on ending it so i don't have to worry about that...

"hmm washing, remember." she says, probably sensing my distant behavior.

"yes washing." i laugh.

#choi beomgyu #beomgyu #choi beomgyu imagines #beomgyu imagines #choi beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu fanfic #choi beomgyu fluff #beomgyu fluff #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #kang taehyun #huening kai #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt fanfic #txt scenarios #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #kpop fanfic

[chamomileharry]

hii, do you have any fic recommendations where harry likes to cry during sex? hahaha sorry for this is so random but thank u <3

hii! i am so so so sorry it took me a while to get to this ask <3 please read the tags (: if you have other requests, feel free to ask, enjoy!

𓄼 Naughty Girl (1k) by ItIsWhatItIs9194

Harry absolutely hated getting fucked anally. Louis knew that, too. But he knew that was the point. 

Or

Submissive Harry has a pussy and needs to be punished.

𓄼 it’s part of me, apart from you *need an ao3 account* (1k) by orphan_account

Louis leaves and Harry forgets. 𓄼 I have often prayed for an angel (2k) by orphan_account “Daddy,” he whines, voice already growing high in pitch. “Can I? Please?” “Of course angel,” Louis whispers fondly, hand tangling in Harry’s hair as he brushes it back. He loves Harry’s long strands, maybe even more than Harry does himself. “You look so beautiful on your knees like that, so eager to suck my cock.” “Mhm,” Harry hums, already licking at Louis’ slit. He begins to suckle softly at the head, peering up at Louis with wide eyes. The angel wings stretch on either side of him, and it’s so obscene, how filthy the act they’re doing is in contrast to the white feathers adorning Harry’s back. “Love your cock Daddy.” Or, the one in which Louis fucks Harry in the VS wings after he wears them onstage. 𓄼 Blankets Off *need an ao3 account* (2k) by MYGiswhipped Every time the boys watch a scary movie, Louis lets Harry cock warm him. Harry doesn't know why Louis will only let him do it during scary movies, but he's determined to make the most of it when he gets the chance.Also: it's hard to explain, but the other boys are in on and actively participate in Louis and Harry's sex life. Sometimes Harry just needs the extra attention and praise. 𓄼 like craters in the moon (3.9k) by orphan_account “H—Harry,” Louis moaned, hips stuttering forward a bit. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna come.”

And then Harry said the four words that changed everything.

“Come in my dimples.”

Or, the one in which Louis has a thing for Harry's dimples. 𓄼 baby i’m a four alarm fire (4k) // by orphan_account harry and zayn are known around the neighbourhood for their loud fights, the nice old lady across the street finally calls the cops. louis is the new officer in town, and harry is very persuasive. there's also arson somewhere in there.

𓄼 Cigarette in my left hand, Corona in my right hand (4.9k) by thebreadvan

Tears are running down Harry's cheeks freely now, and his chest is heaving and his cock is leaking and - "Fuck, shit -- mmnghhh -- I'm coming".

"Mr. Styles", he hears from his laptop, "I'm going to have to ask you to turn off your microphone." Mr. Winston says and Harry's eyes bulge out of his head, Louis stiffening under him.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　

Or, lockdown is hard, online classes suck and it's too cold in the apartment, but Louis keeps Harry warm. Harry's class hears all about it.

𓄼 oh how I wish that was me (4.9k) by orphan_accoun

A tear drops, and then another. A pathetic sound escapes his mouth, pitiful just like his thoughts.

Because Harry wishes it was him.

He wishes he was the one with a baby growing in his belly—a real one that is. He oh so wishes this whole thing with Louis becoming a dad was real, wants Louis to be the father of a baby, to be announcing his excitement over starting a family—but not with some random girl their management picked up. He wants it to be him; the person Louis is sharing this experience with, wants to be the carrier of their child—children—so so much.

But, he wasn't, and it's not like he could ever do that for Louis. And that knowledge hurt more than anything, every single day of his life.

Or, the one in which Modest! still sucks, Harry breaks down and Louis comforts him.

𓄼 complicated freak (5k) by likelarry

Harry has always fantasized about having a gangbang and Louis indulges him.

Or the one where Harry gets fucked by multiple people to fullfil his orgy, gangbang fantasy.

𓄼 Nothing But A Fucking Playboy (6.2k) by soin1d

Harry is like any teenager - horny, needy, and desperate for a good fuck. He's always eager to submit himself to his boyfriend Louis despite his dirty mouth and cocky attitude. He wants to be used, fucked, and treated like a filthy slut whenever and wherever he is, and he'll do anything to get his way.

Or the one where Harry uses jealousy to push Louis off the edge at a Halloween party. Because Harry knows Louis always fucks rougher when he's angry.

𓄼 Baby Honey (47.3k) by JesHallvol6

“Is that Louis Tomlinson?” Niall shouts in his ear over the booming bass of the club music. He points over Harry’s shoulder, bouncing up and down to the beat.

Harry’s head has never turned so fast in his entire life.

#chamomileharryficrec #bottom harry fic rec #top louis fic rec #crying during sex #ao3 works #larry fic rec list #anon ask #my asks

[papirouge]

By the way it's incredibly creepy that you find me "fascinating" lol touch some fucking grass and stop picking apart. Only God can judge me and while you're sitting in your room all day being a miserable troll I'm entering a positive new relationship and healing from my trauma. I'll pray for you 🙏

Nah bestie, what's creepy is you role playing your whole online existence 💀

Even your pfp give me the heebie-jeebies. Is AI coquette gonna be your next shtick?

Don't get it twisted: when I said you were "fascinating" it's in the same way as witnessing a trainwreck. You know? you're witnessing something terrible but can't help being drawn to watching the mess. You are the trainwreck💁🏾‍♀️

The only one needing to touch grass is you. Every day you're having fights online because you can't help but being an attention seeking troll making offensive takes on people's posts. You reek such a masculine vindicative energy...even the Tumblr coquette community is fed up with you. Get a grip already.

You lied about pretty much everything you said about you : how you met your porn addict ex, how you were a virgin, how you never made those racists posts (and LIED saying they were photoshopped).... You really should be quiet and keep you religious charade out of your mouth. You don't even know God. Otherwise you wouldn't be out there doing every single sin in the book and then accuse some uwu bad/dark energy uwu overtaking you. Nah girl, you're just not Saved. Learn to live without a man, open a Bible for once and lean to Jesus - not some scrote companionship.

"only God can judge me"

It's always the most wicked degenerate using this (unbiblical) slogan to cover their sins. Case in point.

Keep your prayers for yourself. Of anyone out there, you're the one in the most dire need of it. Why didn't you pray before snatching another woman's husband? Why didn't you pray when you were doing dirty things in the bed with a man while not even being married? Why didn't you pray before consistently spouting disgusting racist slurs under beautiful Black women pictures just because you're pathologically jealous about the collective of Black women because your ex cheated on you with one? oh my bad "he was a disgusting pig", right ? ....a "disgusting pig" you still actively chased out of his marriage because you are a pathetic pickme homewrecker. What does it say about you?? Trash attracts trash 🚮

LOOK AT YOURSELF. Flexing about being teeehehee soooww young uwu when you're already a grown ass 24 years ADULT WOMAN LARPing as an underage nymphette coquette. You're too old for that shit. Woman of your age are out there with a steady career and/or starting a family. You're obsessively acting like the people dragging you were older/middle aged women when the average Tumblr user is a zoomer.... They're most likely the same age as you if not younger. Sorry but you're not special❄️ Cope.

You're already too washed out for the scrotes you're desperately pandering to anyway : divorced, not virgin, dated a Black man, homewrecker who's been in an adulterous relationship..at only 24 years old (!) - a geriatric age for men who are picking (virgin) girls freshly out of highschool. Pack it up already, more attractive and more "pure" girls are snatching the men you're looking for. You'll be left with crumbs (like your porn addicted ex). Absolutely not surprised you're raving about a man doing the bare minimum for you, such as *flips through my notes* not having sex with you on the first date, and.... ah yes! holds the door for you 💀 .....The bar is in HELL🥀

Those older women you're seething against have ironically less baggage than you that's why your age is the only thing you have left to flex on. No one is jealous of you ; we pity you for being such a trainwreck.

#CHECK YOUR LIPSTICK BEFORE TALKING TO ME #answered

[corvinearcher]

Howdy, I'm CorvineArcher, and this is my essay on why Equius is actually a great character, no matter what someone else thinks. Because hussie plays favorites like a MADMAN. (Sorry about the formatting, tumblr is weird as shit idk how to fix it.)

So starting off, I'm pissed: Okay I understand that all of the trolls we're just insulting real zodiacs, but some of them TRULY piss me off. He plays favorites like a madman, seeing as Vriska was more of a main character than John somehow, and nobody other than a small handful like Equius, Tavros, and Feferi. (Feferi is fair, I'll make an essay on her later.) anyway, these are just my observations from my first and currently only read of homestuck, an I'm gonna be honest, I DID NOT PAY ATTENTION lmao. I only just now found out that the Executioner, (Ancestor of my favorite troll line) HAS A NAME AND IT'S EXECUTER DARKLEER. DARKLEER. THAT'S FUCKING SICK.

Anyway, a big reason why people don't like Equius, is because Hussie doesn't: (If I'm spelling his name wrong, then he deserves it.) anyway, he seems to hate him. When he was first going to get his introduction, HE SKIPPED HIM. Because he made him a fucking weirdo because obviously, making fun of the symbol of Sagittarius is absolutely hilarious. So he made him super weird and obsessed with centaurs and kinky as shit and awkward because, HE DOESN'T LIKE HIM. Which is lame. Same thing with Horuss, too. And also he get like no screentime lmao. Then again his aspect IS void, but still, he could've gotten to do a lot more. And when he DID do super fucking useful shit WHICH HE DID ALRIGHT? He got almost nothing after it. But the second Vriska breathes she's on for eighty more pages. (Still love her tho) anyway, he definitely plays favorites and it sucks because OUR favorites get the fucking gutter.

Next part, which is me being an extreme Zahhak Apologist: Listen, of course equius is going to be obsessed with the hemospectrum because he is pure blue blood. Second in line for land dwellers (on the hemospectrum). Now it's not just him, gamzee went crazy with knowing he's above everyone and MURDERED people over it. The only reason he's chill is because he was high off bed slime, then chilled out by Karkat. And VRISKA, who is also a blue blood, third in line, is obsessed with her ancestor, and killed people as well to reach her goal as strongest. None of the others really did this (to my memory) so obviously equius is going to struggle with the hemospectrum, it literally in his blue ass blood. And, add on the whole thing about his hormones (will get into it in a sec) and also being a fucking teenager, he's confusing the hemospectrum and his emotions. He goes crazy for it in a completely different way due to all of his incredibly heightened hormones. So he is a weirdo, and kind of a freak, but he really can't help it. He has a mix of shit that should not be mixed and he has to just learn to deal with it and act normal and like it's fine. And he suffers as a social outcast because he can't socialize. He confuses everything to a point of not even being able to have more than one friend. And nepeta, I love her. Because she admits he's weird, but still sees that he's a person who's fucking going through it and they are THE best morails, and are the representation of morails universally known in the fandom. And she wasn't his friend out of pity because she DIED for him. So that just proves how good of a person he is apart from being joked on and casted out.

And now, here's why I think the Zahhak family is absolutely fucking bangarang: For starters, I mean cmon, I KNOW the hemospectrum is wrong and terrible BUT THEY'RE HIGH UP LIKE, SECOND DIRECTLY BELOW THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD. THAT'S KOOL AS SHIT. and their blood color is fucking rad, not to mention their individual color pallets, which I will make soon. Anyway, they're all about archery and horses, which make them already sound like knights which is also kool as shit. And they've got their important thing with strength. Which surpasses everyone else's. And and AND THEY'RE FUCKING CREATORS. THEY MAKE SHIT. THEY PROBABLY BEND HUGE PIECES OF METAL WITH JUST THEIR TWO HANDS AND CALL IT A NORMAL TUESDAY. I'm sure what they all create varies on the timeline. Horuss with robots, and Equius with robots too, but I think that if Darkleer got to make things, it would probably be armor and kool ass weapons. I mean LOOK AT HIS FUCKING ARMOR GOTTDAMN. And his fucking bow CMON. IMAGINE EQUIUS WITH THAT. anyway, I just think they're neat as shit. And I wish we could've had mor content on them. Especially Equius because he doesn't seem to get much, like ever. Even for aspect plot it's still aggravating. Either way either way, he's still my favorite, and I'm not gonna stop making cringe content on the Zahhak line.

(Also their last name is kool as shit I MEAN COME ON PEOPLE)

Me rn ^^^

#homestuck #homestuck equius #homestuck headcanons #equius zahhak #executer darkleer #homestuck executioner #Homestuck Horuss #horuss zahhak

[littlerosetrove]

911 rewatch

3x11

Battlefield boyfriends rescuing the guy dangling from a plane. Badass!!

fgikuvg When the mother of the 911 call asks, “Are you boys single?” Eddie and Buck just turn and look at each other and just. Don’t answer. 😆😆

The introduction of Albert. I’d honestly forgotten what season he’d been introduced. 👀

Mkay, but does any member of the 118 not have parental issues? 💔 Chim’s dad just… doesn’t care about him. 💔💔💔 Thank goodness Chimney had a loving mother (who passed when he was 14), and later was taken in by the wonderful Lees.

Buck: “What’s a bassoon?” When I tell you both my husband and I BURST out laughing at this. And we both agreed right away that this was SUCH a Buck thing to say. 😆

I think this is the second time we’ve seen Hen working heavy machinery with ease. Ma’am, where did you get this training?? =3

Buck knowing that Eddie loves baseball. 💕 And I think Ryan loves baseball in real life? =D

Yikessss, Chimney directing his hurt about his essentially absent father at Albert, who had a different flavor of not great treatment from the dad.

There it is!! Eddie telling Chimney, “There’s the family you’re born into, and the one you choose. The 118 is the family we choose.”

“This is Eddie’s house, I’m not really a guest.” Buck telling Maddie this and this speaks VOLUMES.

My husband thinks Maddie and Chimney are a good match. 💕

Maddie about her parents: “They’re not bad people, just bad parents.” Hmmmm I wonder if the writers knew just yet what the Buckley’s backstory was gonna be at this point. I mean, as we know now, the Buckley parents are 500% fucking awful parents.

Ohhh Maddie officially meets the Lee’s. Very sweet.

3x12

Buck didn’t knock the idea of being set up with Josh. Honestly one of a handful of signs that Buck isn’t straight. 🏳️‍🌈

But I gotta say I don’t really enjoy, in any media or anywhere, this notion that if someone is single “for a long time” then it’s somehow worrying or a bad thing? Setting aside the Buck of it all, I just really hate this societal narrative that being single at all is somehow sad or pitiful or some sort of failure.

Chris is smart and popular at his school, and Eddie is so proud. 💕💕💕

Eddie may not have told Buck about the street fighting until he probably had to, but at this point I’d say Eddie tells Buck everything. Like the fact that he chewed out Ana Flores for the whole skateboard thing at the school. Heh.

Eddie coming to Buck to talk about his dilemma with Chris and the skateboard. Hello, once again they are best friends in love. Seriously. Do we really ever see any other parents on the show going to their friends with kid issues like this? Rarely, I think.

Just so we’re clear, Ana was definitely being ableist with her horse metaphor speech. And that’s particularly sucky when we consider she’s a teacher at a school that’s supposed to specialize in aiding kids with disabilities and special needs. (T explains it a bit more in her post)

Love the scene of Eddie explaining to Chris that while yes he does have limitations because he has CP, he can still try things. And for now, until he’s older, they can try new things together. Oh, and it’s confirmed in this scene that Eddie does not have a green thumb with plants.

I’ll never be over the fact that clearly Buck helped Eddie build a specialized skateboard for Chris. They’re a family your honor. 🥺

3x13

Competent Buck with the bowling alley 911 call. 💕 Followed by Eddie lovingly poking fun at Buck. (their teasing is flirting)

“Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. So if you love her, tell her.” Eddie says this to Chimney about Maddie…….I wonder when he’ll take his own advice and tell Buck he loves him. ✌️

Oh just a casual scene of Eddie asking Buck if he wants to grab lunch together after work. 😌💕

The bond Michael and Bobby have is so special.

Congrats Maddie and Chimney for confessing your love. 💖

3x14 Honestly not a lot to say about this episode, though it is entertaining.

Idk if it’s because Buck knew who was calling, but his “go for Buck” when answering the phone was funny.

Maddie is honestly a badass.

#911 rewatch #911 s3 rewatch #long post

[erigold13261]

I’m back with some HCs for NSR AU Suguru bc I want a happy ending (hope this isn’t too long, and I hope you had a great week!)

In canon, let’s just say Suguru… doesn’t like non sorcerers. (seeing sorcerers treated like shit by non sorcerers around him broke him) However, I can see this AU version of them realizing that both powered and non powered individuals can be shit (Liv and Miguel as good examples)

he’s very protective of those he trusts ie the rest of the JJK gang/arachnikids

Suguru still has no idea if they are gay or bi. Maybe they never find out.

One reason why I HC Suguru in this AU as nonbinary is because he uses “私” when referring to himself in canon. (Basically “I” in Japanese) 私 is very formal, gender neutral but often used by women. (Kento uses that too, but for him, I think it’s him just always sounding super formal.)

Satoru and Suguru both have trouble sleeping alone. The arachnikids have seen both of them snuggling in a small bed together more than a few times. 

Suguru decided to befriend Shoko and Satoru because they saw how shitty these two’s home lives were, and felt pity for them. (Shoko and Satoru never realized how fucked their whole marriage ordeal was until then. Then Satoru came up with the idea for scamming people…) 

Satoru and Shoko both saw their lives/existences as assets or tools until they met Suguru. 

Satoru loves to make Suguru laugh, and Suguru loves Satoru’s goofiness. 

Welcome back! And this seems like a good length post! :3

-Non sorcerers: Would this au also have Suguru disliking powered individuals a little bit then since he comes from a non-powered family (kinda mixing in familial generational trauma along with self hatred stemming from his family up bringing)? It was only after befriending Satoru and Shoko that powers aren't inherently bad, and after dealing with Nueva York that they realize anyone can be a shitlord.

-Trust: Yeah, I can see that. He probably didn't have a lot of friends for a bit so finally getting a good friend group (especially after hearing Satoru's family story) would make Suguru pretty protective of friends.

-Queer-curious: And that's perfectly fine. He doesn't need a label pinpointing the exact thing that he is. Maybe he finds a label that fits him well enough but doesn't want to use it, or people say he fits a certain label but he isn't vibing with it.

Kinda like the idea that he gets overwhelmed with like Peni, Gwen, and Yu trying to find the right label for him. Showing him a bunch of stuff and people, resources and things that just make him more and more unsure, just for Hobie to step in and tell him he doesn't even need a label. Just be yourself and act however makes you happy.

-Formal Nonbinary: Language is so cool to learn. That makes on why you would make that kind of headcanon and I love hearing people read really deeply into things like that! Makes me think of how a lot of the fandom (me included) decided that Mayday saying "they've been playing the same thing everyday for years" or something like that to say that DJSS was nonbinary (instead of what was most likely intended as a plural "they," not a singular one).

-Trouble sleeping: Time to get body pillows /j

I have this funny image in my head of Satoru and Suguru making a sleep pile on each other while Shoko is explaining something really intensely. It looks back and sees the two sleeping and just walks over, puts a blanket on them, then puts a pillow on them and leans against that and takes a nap with them (neither can move when they wake up because of this lol)

-Befriending: I was gonna ask how Suguru would have gotten that information before befriending them, but honestly, the two just casually saying what is going on like it was nothing (because they are desensitized to it) just makes a lot of sense to me.

-Tools: Yup. My vision of them being desensitized is just confirmed with this point. Definitely how Suguru found out.

-Laugh: Shoko just being the third wheel at this little comedy club they got going on lol.

But it's honestly really nice to see that they love each other's sides that make them happy. Like complimentary sides that help enhance the other (I don't like using the "they complete eachother" line because you don't need someone to complete you, so them thinking they complete each other only to one day realize they enhance each other is just a nice idea to me. Like they don't need each other, but they want each other. The two are strong alone but they become stronger together).

#spidertalk #jjktalk #eriverse #nspidr #eritalks #noart #asks