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reputationdamiano · 2 years

Note

hi!

could i request a damiano imagine where the reader is insecure/ has an ed? in need of smt sad 2 read

smaller than this

pairing: damiano david x reader

warning(s): tw ed, body dysmorphia, insecurities, self hate, one or two curse words

word count: 1081

a/n: i have struggled with that type of things too, i mean i was never diagnosed but i definitely have body dysmorphia. i think now it’s better with eating but the self-hate hits hard often 🙁 sorry for writing this 10 months after u send that request! but here it is!

i also want to thank lovely @bidet-and-legolas for proofreading, ily 🫶

i wish i was smaller than this

you were standing in front of the mirror, staring at your body with disapproval. you saw all of your flaws clearly. thighs bigger than the rest of your body, their upper part covered in stretch marks. one look at them and you didn’t want to eat for a week.

i can’t go out dressed like this. no way.

you headed back to your room, removed your shorts and threw them on your bed. then you took out a pair of material trousers.

having been on the verge of tears for so long, you finally broke down. what was wrong with you? despite all the restricting you did for the past ten days, it seemed that you haven’t lost even a pound of fat from your legs.

you had the urge to measure every part of your body and compare the results to those of supermodels. you would sell your soul to be skinny. but there you were, with a bmi of 19.5, which was a healthy one from the medical point of view but to you, your lower body was awfully fat. you sniffled. how was that even possible?

get yourself together and be more consistent. eat less, workout everyday. you won’t reach your goal if you give up now.

these sick ideas have been in your head for a few years, waiting for the right moment to come out. like now, when it was summer and you stayed in rome with your boyfriend damiano before his band leaves to continue their summer tour.

it was easier at the beginning of your relationship. you spent your time getting to know your boyfriend instead of worrying about the number of calories in your dinner. later, during colder times of the year, you were preoccupied with your job projects, plus the temperature outside wasn’t encouraging you to show your legs to the world.

going back to your so-called ‘diet’, which in reality was strongly restricting your intake, made you feel like you had control over something in your life. you patted yourself on the back every time you talked yourself out of eating. damiano had been too busy to notice. in fact, he didn’t know about your eating disorder in the first place. you were in treatment before you even met him so he couldn’t have suspected that you were relapsing.

you decided to get up to change into different clothes and redo your makeup that was destroyed by all that weeping. just as you finished getting ready, damiano came in. you took a deep breath.

i must keep him out of this.

“hi, y/n” he said and hugged you. “are you ready to go?”

“hi dami. yes, let’s leave” you forced a smile onto your face. he took your hand and you got into his car. that day damiano planned to take you out on a date to make up for how little time he had spent with you lately.

your favorite album was playing but all you felt was stress because this surprise date may include eating.

damiano asked you about your day and shared new info about the tour but your mind had been on one thing: how to eat as little as possible without being suspicious.

you noticed that you were slowly driving out of the city. at some point your boyfriend turned left into an old country road.

where the hell are we going? you thought.

you didn’t ask, however, because you already reached your destination: a completely empty beach by the river. the sky was pink without a single cloud on it and the view was breathtakingly beautiful.

damiano stopped the car

“and what do you think?” he asked, grinning.

“it’s such a beautiful place, wow” you replied, in awe of your surroundings.

“far from the city, just for us” your boyfriend added while taking out a blanket and a basket full of food out of the trunk.

a basket full of food?

oh no, not this

you started to panic. damiano quickly unfolded the blanket and made a comfy place for you to sit.

you didn’t see anything healthy and low in calories to eat, except for a few fruits. grabbing one, you hoped that damiano wouldn’t notice how little you would eat tonight.

“y/n, please have a piece of brownie, it’s your favorite” he said, looking at you softly.

“i’m not hungry, thanks dami” you said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “i ate at home”

i’m so screwed up but he can’t know about this

“but there was nothing much in the fridge” your boyfriend pointed out. he was already worried and suspecting something.

fuck. i’m doomed

“y/n, what’s going on?” damiano enquired.

“nothing, why?” you said but your voice was shaking. you weren’t such a good manipulator as you thought.

you were at your wits‘ end.

“y/n, you know you can tell me everything” damiano didn’t give up on the conversation.

you felt like you had a lump in your throat. in that moment, you knew you had to tell him.

your boyfriend was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“um.. i…” you couldn’t finish the sentence because the tears started falling down your face.

damiano took you in his arms. his embrace was your ultimate comfort.

he’s the love of my life, he deserves to know

“damiano, there’s something you should know about me… i have problems with eating” you opened up and told him the whole story, from your first struggles in high school and treatment to your most recent relapse.

“amore, you’ve been through a lot. i admire your strength. please remember you’re the most divine and gorgeous person in my eyes. i wouldn’t change a single thing about you, you’re perfect” damiano whispered. you were cradled in his arms like they were your safest shelter.

“nevertheless, you need to seek professional help. i’ll arrange everything for you, i promise. we’ll get through this together” he stopped speaking to kiss you slowly and softly. all of your negative thoughts disappeared during that wonderful moment.

“and remember, you deserve to eat no matter what, okay? i’m going to check up on you everyday, beautiful. i adore every piece of you and this will never change”

“dami, you mean everything to me. i’m so sorry for all that has happened” you said

“there’s no need to apologize y/n. you complete me. i’ll never let you go”

taglist: @ethanesimp @zuzamy @mywritingonlyfans @kirstansworld @gretavanfleetlove @otaculo @bieberhoodforever @kyliesalvatore @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @bidet-and-legolas @hopelessromantic727 @ilwiwbysmv @lovelymaneskindays @grzybowysyn @butkutee

masterlist

you can add yourself to my taglist here

reblogs and comments appreciated 🤍

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maraudersmyloves · 2 months

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─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Pairing: James Potter x rockstar!reader

Warnings: The reader is a celebrity flirting with a fan so some power dynamic stuff

Word count: 1.3 k

Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!

Songs in this: Honey (are u coming?) by Maneskin

"Oh God". :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Previous part

You don't think you'll ever get used to the feeling that washes over you the hour before going on stage. It's a weird mix of calm and chaos that's so very distinct to only this Situation. It's doing last sound and outfit checks while panicking trying to find your eyeliner because you all insisted on doing your own make-up and hair. It's smoking a blunt while Dorcas is running around searching for a sticker she wants to put on her microphone before the show. It's hearing the fans get louder in front of the stage and imagining what kind of signs they'll have prepared while trying to get Regulus' earring in. It's Evan and Barty screaming at each other because Evan is sure Barty stole his drumsticks while Pandora and Dorcas try to convince him to just use different ones.

But even that doesn't compare to the last moments before entering the stage. It's eerily quiet. Yes, you can hear the fans screaming but the voices really just fade into each other to form a big white noise machine. You look around to make sure everyone is in their positions while adjusting the height of your micro. Evan on the drums, Barty on the Bass, Dorcas, and Regulus on the guitar, and Pandora standing in front of her keyboard.

In these last moments, you like to focus on one thing and study it to calm yourself. Today it's the microphones. Your's is silver and bedazzled and the only one that's easily removable from its stand since you walk around the most (apart from Barty). On the bottom of it is a little pink heart doodle you drew on the day of the Emeralds' first big concert. Pandora's is light blue with a self made 3D butterfly on it. She made it about a month ago and very proudly showed it off at your next show. Barty and Regulus don't have one, Regulus because he doesn't really like to sing and only does so in about two songs, and Barty because he couldn't keep still and just always sang into others micros anyway. Dorcas has a basic black one or that's what it would be if she didn't slap any stickers she can find on it. The first layer of stickers isn't even visible anymore. Evan is the only one with a headset because leaning out to get to the microphone while playing the drums is too annoying for him.

Through their earpieces, the countdown starts and everything seems to slow down. You can feel the goosebumps overcome your skin and you have to shake yourself once to calm down.

Evan and Pandora sing the first lines before the curtain falls down but you can hear the screams getting louder and a smile tugs at your lip.

"Honey, are you coming?"

Evan's loud scream in unison with the drop of the curtain makes something click and all of a sudden everything is clear. You can see the first few rows and like always you start to scan the audience for someone cute while the guitars are playing. And wouldn't you guess, there he is. Front row and staring at you in awe.

He's cute. Probably about 6'2 with a big muscly figure and messy dark curls. His eyes are like honey and you can't help but return his stare. He smiles like the sun and you know it's over. You feel the need to write a love song right this second but the current song will help too. It's a fun and flirty song mostly written by Dorcas and Barty and you can't help but hold eye contact while singing.

/I know a place downtown, babe, if you wanna go/

You're a bit too breathless for you're liking. Sure there's a hot guy in your audience but that's really not that big of a deal. You see hot people all the time. You worked with models for a few shows, god dammit

Dorcas takes over for a while which might be your saving grace as it allows you to take a deep breath and remind yourself to just flirt, have fun, and don't start anything serious. He's a fan after all.

You wrap both hands around your micro while and sing while looking the hot stranger up and down.

/And if it sounds good for you, baby, just say the word/

/You will li-i-i-i-i-ike it/

You run your hands down your body suggestively, take the micro out of the stand, and walk closer to the edge of the stage finally tearing your eyes off the guy to look at the mass of people in front of you.

You often perform this big but it's still so incredible. You don't think you'll ever get used to the fact that this many people enjoy your music.

/It's five AM/

/We feel so good, it's almost frightening/

You lean down to look at the hot guy again and startle when you realize how close you are. You can see every detail of his face, the little hazel freckles that are splattered across his iris, the beauty mark on his chin, and the little dimples

/I'm made for you, we can't deny it/

You wink at him and smirk when you can see his Adams apple bob down from swallowing.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

James has never been more overwhelmed and confused in his life. He came here planning to spy on his best mate's brother, who from what Sirius told him plays the guitar, he hasn't been able to confirm that yet though because he cannot tear his eyes away from the lead singer. When you made eye contact the first time he could've sworn he died but that could've been a coincidence, stars look at their fans. That's normal.

When you held eye contact while singing several lines and looked him up and down he had to stop himself from fainting.

Then you came towards him and leaned down to look at him up close. And that was it. He is in love. Now, this might be a bit much seeing as he's never spoken to you but then he was never known for his ability to take things slow.

/It's not a one night stand if it turns into two/

Because this stunning girl is looking at him while singing about one-night stands with a spark in her eye as if she wants to fuck him right then and there.

/Oh, I li-i-i-i-i-ike it/

Your voice is a little breathy as you sink down on your knees and he has to take a second to cool himself down. This causes him to finally look at his best mate next to him who is staring at the black haired guitar player. They do look very alike and judging from the look on Pads face this is very hard for him. They both have that sharp bone structure with startling light eyes and black curly hair.

James wants to kick himself for not even thinking about that but he can't when he can see you look at him from the corner of his eyes. It's like his eyes are automatically pulled to you.

/Honey, are you coming?/

it's a loud scream and the music abruptly stops, getting replaced by the booming sound of applause.

You let out a breathless laugh at the sound of this incredibly loud applause and take a moment to close your eyes and let this feeling soke in. You turn around to look at your other band members and are met with a unison look of amazement. This is the last show of the tour and you already kind of miss this.

Then as if on clock word without some sort of sign you all scream, "Hello London!"

#fluff #headcanon #marauders #writing #marauders era #fanfic #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter headcanon #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #band au #rockstar gf #maneskin #slytherin skittles

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artbyace · 1 year

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victoria de angelis gives me major fem sirius if they were in a band vibes

like. the poses. the outfits. the vibes. the energy. the star on the bass. everything.

#if there’s one thing that true about me it’s that i will always connect my hyperfixations #imagining ethan as remus in the pics…#hmbsbsgh i am so not normal #sirius black #fem sirius black #marauders headcanon #hp marauders #marauders #txt #wolfstar #marauders band au #maneskin #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #i am so bisexual

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filthforfriends · 7 months

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Guardian Angel

Unbeknownst to you, the confluence of your life with Alpha!Damiano's gave him new purpose. Protecting you meant keeping his distance and he was doing so successfully until a meeting of chance. Upon returning his affection, Dami's extensive future plans of self-restraint crumble. He can't stay away, even as he throws every ounce of his self control and discipline into doing so.

• Imagine #1 • Imagine #2 1. An Educated Decision 2. Nuance 3. Biblical Levels of Temptation 4. Vampiriano 5. Unmarked 6. Issues of Personal Conduct 7. Love(ing) Bites (Deleted Scene) 8. Beautiful Breakable Bodies 9. Play the Part 10. Alpha Dysregulation Type 2 11. Ravenous (Deleted Scene) 12. White Flag Raised 13. The New Addendum 14. Lupina Bonus Chapter Masterlist Read it on AO3 Get on my Taglist

#maneskin #måneskin #må #damiano david #damiano #damiano maneskin #maneskin damiano #damiano david x reader #damiano david smut #damiano david imagine #damiano david fanfiction #alpha/beta/omega headcanon #alpha/beta/omega au #alpha beta omega #alpha omega #omegaverse #omega reader #maneskin fanfiction #alpha!damiano

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happilychee · 4 months

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thinking about gray fullbuster and måneskin...

I think I need to change my rules bc I keep thirsting over gray😭

side note: the driver is so nalu coded to me. whatever lucy wants to do, natsu is the first one there making it happen.

♡ gray singing honey (are u coming?) on stage. he's in dark jeans that make his thighs look great, and he's not wearing a shirt. usually that wouldn't fluster you, but his ice devil slayer markings are on full display. the only thing adorning his torso besides them is his silver necklace, shining in the mood lighting of the venue.

♡ his biceps strain as he plays a complicated melody on the guitar, face and body covered by a sheen of sweat as he concentrates. you think that you'd be drooling if you weren't busy screaming along to the music.

♡ you're trying hard to stay in the front of the crowd, but it's hard when you're being jostled around. you're sure there's more enthusiastic people in the audience, judging by the screams, but when your eyes lock onto gray's, he doesn't look away.

♡ "meet me there where it never closes, meet me there where it's never hopeless" your gaze is transfixed, and it's not your imagination hoping that gray's getting closer to you because he is, and oh he's still playing the guitar but he's on his knees and- you feel your legs go weak and your face burn. you grip onto the barricade like a lifeline because otherwise you might get pulled under.

♡ when the show comes to an end, your ears are ringing, your feet ache, and you think you're going to lose your voice tomorrow. you shiver in the cold, lamenting your decision to forego a jacket. still, you forget about your discomfort when the back door opens and gray comes out.

♡ he's wearing a coat (unlike you) but your mind goes a little fuzzy when you realize there's still no shirt on his body. gray's eyes light up when he sees you, and he's quick to settle his hands on your hips. he frowns when he notices you're trembling, and he immediately pulls you into his arms. you nuzzle into him, grateful for his body heat.

♡ neither of you say anything, voices exhausted from screaming all night long. that is, until a tiny smirk forms on gray's face. you eye him warily, unsure of what the trickster will do to you. there's no tickle attack or tossing you over the shoulder, though. no, instead, gray leans down, his breath hot against your ear, and he whispers, "did you like the show, honey?"

#lychee writes #fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #fairy tail x reader #gray fullbuster #hngnfnegegwge #every time I listen to maneskin the lizard part of my brain starts running around the enclosure #I just KNOW gray would have a gravelly voice when he's really singing #hehrhrhfhrhrhrhfhr #gray am I right #I'm right

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gabihime-jegulusseeker · 6 months

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marauders x maneskin songs

Regulus & James

(specific parts for each one of them):

Regulus:

È una bambina però sente come un peso

E prima o poi si spezzerà

La gente dirà, "Non vale niente"

Non riesce neanche a uscire da una misera porta

translation:

( She's just a kid, but she feels something weighing on her

And sooner or later she'll break

And people will say "she's worth nothing

She can't even walk out of a miserable door")

Ma Coraline non vuole mangiare, no

Sì, Coraline vorrebbe sparire

E Coraline piange

Coraline ha l'ansia

Coraline vuole il mare ma ha paura dell'acqua

E forse il mare è dentro di lei

translation

(But Coraline doesn't want to eat, no

Yes, Coraline would rather disappear

And Coraline cries

Coraline has anxiety

Coraline is longing for the sea, but is afraid of the water

And maybe the sea is inside her)

James:

Coraline bella come il sole

Guerriera dal cuore zelante

Capelli come rose rosse

Preziosi quei fili di rame, amore, portali da me

Se senti campane cantare

Vedrai Coraline che piange

Che prende il dolore degli altri

E poi lo porta dentro lei

translation:

(Coraline, as beautiful as the sun

Warrior with a zealous heart

Hair like red roses

Those precious copper strings, my love, bring them to me

If you hear bells singing

You'll see Coraline crying

Taking in other people's pain

And then carry it within her)

jegulus:

Sarò il fuoco ed il freddo

Riparo d'inverno

Sarò ciò che respiri

Capirò cos'hai dentro

E sarò l'acqua da bere

Il significato del bene

Sarò anche un soldato

O la luce di sera

E in cambio non chiedo niente

Soltanto un sorriso

Ogni tua piccola lacrima è oceano sopra al mio viso

E in cambio non chiedo niente

Solo un po' di tempo

Sarò vessillo, scudo

O la tua spada d'argento

translation:

(I'll be the fire and the cold

A winter shelter

I'll be what you breathe

I'll understand what you hold inside

And I'll be the water you drink

The meaning of good

I'll even be a soldier

Or a light in the evening

I ask for nothing in return

Just a smile

Every little tear of yours is an ocean on my face

And I ask for nothing in return

Just a little time

I'll be a battle banner, a shield

Or your silver sword)

Sirius

specific parts translation:

I hear a thousand voices speaking, but I don't hear what they're saying

I look in the mirror and I imagine to be in a circus

On a merry-go-round of happiness and I don't want to get off of it

Even if I'm not having fun anymore

Sometimes I feel like a miracle and sometimes ridiculous

Then I lose my mind in a second, but don't go tell it around

I'm out of myself

............

I've been preparing my waltz with the devil

Since I was a child

You can call me crazy, bastard, insane

I'll toast over it with wine

I’m only 20 Therefore don’t be surprised if I make drama from nothing I’m afraid of leaving only money to the world For my name to disappear between those of all the others But I’m only 20 And I already ask forgiveness for the mistakes that I committed But the road is tougher when you’re aiming for the sky So choose the things that are really important Choose love or diamonds Demons or saints

Marlene:

Marlena, win over this evening Take everything that you might need and be sincere Open the sail, come on, travel lightly Show beauty to this people

Marlena, win over this night Strip black Take everything that you might need and be sincere Open the sail Come on, travel lightly Show beauty to this people and I

Remus

They don't know what I'm talking about Clothes are dirty, bro, of mud Cig's yellow in between the fingers I'm walking with a cig Pardon me, but I really do believe That I can make this jump And even if the street is uphill I'm training for this now

#marauders #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #merodeadores #sirius black #starchaser #james x regulus #remus lupin #sunseeker #wolfstar #marlene mckinnon #maneskin #headcanon #marauders incorrect quotes #marauders headcanon #marauders songs

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regulus-lantsov · 24 days

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Modern Dorcas Meadowes

Modern Dorcas Meadowes headcannons :

She watch every races of Formula one and shows that girls don't watch the sport for the boys

She wears gold or argent eye-liner

She always have a totebag with books, crystals and food for animals with her

Always wearing Doc Martens and doing a joke with her name and the doc

Pansexual

She has a lot of plants at her home and only drink coffee

She writes fanfictions on AO3

Fan of Maneskin and Lana Del Rey

Dyed in hair in blond once but regretted it immediately

Therapist friend

Want to be a real therapist

Loves movies like 'Dead old poets society' and 'Kill your Darlings'

Have booknights with Regulus and Remus

She can't cook even for saving her life

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fireandiceland · 7 months

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btw in my head nyo england actually looks a lot like victoria de angelis. let Alice be young and sexy and wild.

#you know who I mean #she’s the bassist of maneskin #and she’s soooo hot #nyo england #Riva.txt #hetalia headcanons #hetalia

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marlena-immortale · 1 year

Note

I wanna know who in må has a daddy kink. My guess is Ethan lovesss being called daddy

Okay I'm answering this as how would they each react to being called Daddy or calling you Daddy bc that's what this made me think of.

I think Ethan would be a little surprised at first if you called him Daddy in the bedroom, but would instantly love it and tell you to say it again until you're screaming it while he bounces you on his cock. And then he would tease you about it afterward to see you blush. But once you see the effect it has on him you use it to your advantage to turn him on, maybe even in public so he has to suffer, of course only to punish you later for teasing him.

With Damiano, I feel like he'd be the type to love to joke around in bed and maybe you call him Daddy as a joke and he just freezes because omg that was actually really hot. And then you call him that whenever you want him to be extra rough that night. But of course I have to include my fav subby Dami in here too because he would absolutely love to tease a dominant partner by calling you Daddy in his best whiny submissive voice just to turn you on and to hear you coo at how adorable he is and call him your baby boy.

Vic would be the first to bring it up for sure, requesting that you call her Daddy. And maybe it feels a little unnatural at first but once you see how much it turns her on you never want to stop calling her that. And she leans into it so hard, telling you how "Daddy's gonna take care of you and make you cum so hard" and getting off on your reactions.

I looove the idea of Thomas being the one to accidentally call you Daddy when he's all blissed out in subspace and probably doesn't even know what he's saying. And you handle it so well, just letting him ramble on and telling him he's such a good boy for you and he can let go for Daddy. And then afterwards when he's more coherent, you tell him what he said and he's just blushing and stuttering and saying he didn't think he actually said that out loud. He's obviously adorable and you can't help smiling at his slight panic but you also want him to feel comfortable embracing what he's into and encourage him to say it again.

#maneskin smut #maneskin x reader #maneskin headcanons #damiano david smut #damiano david x reader #ethan torchio smut #ethan torchio x reader #victoria de angelis smut #victoria de angelis x reader #thomas raggi smut #thomas raggi x reader #damiano david #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #victoria de angelis #maneskin #asks #blurbs

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ghostcookieturner · 2 years

Note

so...you're taking requests 😏

what do you think about some headcanons or smth with må(or thomas) x fashiondesigner!reader

❣

yes yes big apologies for me doing this 5 months after you sent it lol

word count:<1000

tw: swearing, light mention of stress

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DAMIANO DAVID

ok so first he will watch you for hours while you stitch, sew, crochet, knit, etc.

eventually will want to learn the basics of creating these clothes

ends up wearing a lot of what your label produces

“rest your hands, amore, you’ve been working all day”

will contribute ideas when you have none

def gives you motivation to continue what you love

did i mention he loves to wear what you make?

ETHAN TORCHIO

oh my god now if this isn’t his dream

will most definitely wear your label

in fact his closet will be mostly your label

massages your hands every now and then when you’re stressed

critiques your works

respectfully of course

we love our respectful king

anyway

hangs out with you whenever you have to do a long boring project

gives you ideas for your projects

when he’s on the road/busy, he pays for mani pedis

always tells you how proud he is of what you’ve done

THOMAS RAGGI

absolute fucking simp for your work

will sit and just listen to the hum of your sewing machine while you work

“Cara signora, your fingers are so blistered”

will also do hand massages because we love a soft boy

knows a little about fashion designing himself

makes good pointers and helps with releases and advertising

there’s probably only 3 pieces in his wardrobe that’s not your label

keeps you motivated

Victoria De Angelis

very similar to thomas, a fucking simp for your work

probably makes her pasty’s out of ur scraps lmao

strokes your hair while your sewing

all of her wardrobe is your label

makes it clear everywhere that she is the significant other of a world class fashion designer

always puts lotion and rubs your hands every night

also does ur nails hehe

always gives suggestions and feedback

loves to help

~~~~~~~~~~~~

aaaaaand that’s about it. sorry it sucks lol i’m a little rusty.

send in more requests lovelies! check my master list to see who i write for!!! bye bye friends!!!!

#damiano david #ethan torchio #maneskin #thomas raggi #victoria de angelis #vic de angelis #måneskin #maneskin headcanons #ethan torchio x reader #damiano david x reader #thomas raggi x reader #victoria de angelis x reader #fluff #ethan torchio x you

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reputationdamiano · 2 years

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dandelions

pairing: damiano david x reader

warning(s): one mention of blood in person's veins

word count: 631

summary: when you and damiano find a field of dandelions, your vacation in french countryside can’t get any better.

a/n: over a year ago, a certain person made a playlist for me, this song was in it. i still find it very beautiful and it inspired me to write a short fic. as you may see, i’m trying to improve my writing. i also want to thank @bidet-and-legolas for proofreading 🤍

dandelions.

there were hundreds of thousands of them. sitting on the ground, surrounded by them, you felt like a plant from a different ecosystem which has been gradually putting down its roots.

a light breeze seemed to be moving feather-like clouds high above the planet. the temperature was the optimum in which you felt most at peace with reality: high, but not a suffocating heat.

while slowly approaching you, damiano took all of his steps like a spy. in his eyes, you were a masterpiece and he was admiring you.

your hair was falling down in cascades over a flaxen dress the color of freshly harvested peaches. you were holding one of the flowers in your hand with great caution, like it was the last one in the world and you could save the species from going extinct.

“what are you thinking about, bella?” your boyfriend asked, and sat down on the grass. he began tracing the tattoo on your arm with his fingers, just like he did a week after you got it and finally took the protective film off it. damiano loved every inch of your skin and always let you know about it.

“i’m wishing on those little things”

this was true. when you encountered this field about ten minutes ago, during your bike excursion in the countryside, it instantly reminded you of an old superstition.

“and what are you wishing for?” damiano enquired, resting his head on your shoulder and intertwining his fingers with yours.

“don’t you know saying it out loud is against the rules of wishing?” you replied half-jokingly.

“come on, won’t you tell me?” damiano tried to convince you, looking at you with puppy eyes.

“alright” you blew the seeds of the dandelion and watched them make their way through the lukewarm air. you looked into his hazel eyes and cupped his cheeks delicately.

“i wished that you’ll be mine forever”

then you closed your eyes and pulled him even closer. that’s when your lips met his in a soft kiss that was becoming more and more passionate every second.

when it came to an end, damiano’s eyes light up like sparklers.

“your wish is going to come true, i promise” he beamed and looked at you fondly.

“but i need you to close your eyes right now” damiano added.

“um.. okay?” you didn’t have the slightest idea what he was plotting this time but you followed his instructions.

he must’ve gotten up from the ground because your shoulders brushed and the space next to you seemed empty.

you could feel the blood in your veins flowing faster and faster.

“dami, where are you going?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“please be patient” his voice could be heard a few meters away from your sitting spot. although you were hyped up, you kept sitting still, seeing nothing but darkness in front of you.

“well, you can open your eyes now”

you finally lifted your eyelids to a sight of damiano kneeling before you. he was holding a little blue box with a shiny ring in it. the loving look on his face already expressed what he was about to say.

“i finally gathered the courage to do this. will you marry me, y/n?”

the last five words were the confirmation that your boyfriend and you shared the same wish. you were convinced that no one could tear two of you apart, ever.

your eyes glazed over as you reached for his hand.

“yes” you exclaimed. the next thing you knew, you had a diamond ring on your finger. damiano pulled you in and your lips started moving in perfect sync. in that moment, it was like you were the only people on earth.

“sei l’amore della mia vita” damiano confessed.

“i’ll be yours forever”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

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#catalina writes #maneskin fanfiction #catalina’s imagines #damiano david x reader #damiano david fanfiction #damiano imagine #damiano david headcanon #damiano x you #damiano david fluff #maneskin imagine #maneskin fic #maneskin x y/n #maneskin x reader #maneskin fluff #maneskin fandom #måneskin #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writer

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naynaychan00 · 6 months

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A bit from my Star Wars AU

In my AU, Terran humans use genetic modification to turn themselves into different species

But, Republic non-humans are also turning themselves into humans to blend in while living on Earth

Well, in this AU Maul used to be a Jedi before coming to Earth and turning himself into a human

He's now doing drag in a Mimicat-styled dress (but with a corset), his theme song being Måneskin - I wanna be a slave and out of drag he wears the same corset over outfits clearly inspired by Edgeworth

Drag Maul, everyone

#jedi maul #darth maul #headcanon #au #alternate universe #star wars au #drag #drag au #star wars #maneskin #mimicat

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walkingaftermidnight07 · 2 years

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ok so ive been trying to think of modern music that eddie would like and. MANESKIN. Eddie would love maneskin

i mean, they're very anti conformity, they actually use real instruments, not to mention he'd be sooo in love with damiano, they write songs about being unique and different, as well as songs that are fucking kinky as hell.

i can also totally see eddie dragging steve to a maneskin show and steve getting really into it because eddie likes it and he loves seeing eddie get excited about music.

does anyone else see it or is it just me???

#eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie x steve #steddie #stranger things #stranger things headcanons #headcanons #maneskin #damiano david #honestly i just want eddie to love maneskin because i do too #i could be projecting so someone plz agree with me

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filthforfriends · 1 year

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Lighthouse

Thomas x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3.6k

TW: This is based on an ask I got over a year ago for a Thomas fic where reader is triggered by people yelling and he calms them down. Mentions of probable domestic abuse and vague implications of childhood abuse, neither necessarily physical.

Canvas bag in your left, Thomas’ hand in your right, the crisp spring air was maddening in that it made your nose cold and absolutely nothing else. Today was the first farmers market this year, more trinkets than produce because very little was ripe. Thomas wore a beanie to avoid being recognized, but got so annoyed with the thing that he took it off before you’d even exited the train. Now it was a bulge in his jacket pocket, taunting you with the possibility of falling onto the stale city street.

It was nice to have these as your day’s worries: skin bitten by the cold breeze, the lack of seasonal vegetables, a lost hat. There’d been a time when you prayed for the mundane, for stupid arguments over socks on the living room floor or the last cup of coffee already drunk. Socks could be washed and more coffee made. The problem with a broken home is that the pieces never quite fit back together. Too sharp.

“Hey.” Thomas shoulder checks you, using your intertwined hands to prevent tripping. He’s gotten good at spotting when your thoughts start circling the drain.

“Hey, sorry,” you huff, remembering to breathe.

“Don't apologize.” He kisses the top of your head, dramatically swinging your arms as a distraction. Because of the foot in height difference he’s jerking you around a bit. It’s annoying and very effective at getting you mentally unstuck.

“Okay, okay.” You smile, and instead of calling that a victory, Thomas starts walking backwards, tugging some more.

“I’m gonna trip and die or you’re gonna trip and die.”

“Such a pessimist,” he complains, with a theatrical eye roll. Tommy stops walking and you run into him, but it's purposeful. He’s ready for the forward momentum and drops your hand to wrap you in a hug.

“It's inconvenient, how good you’ve become at reading my facial expressions,” you mumble into his jacket, zipper pressing into your cheek.

“And you can tell when I’m hungry when I can’t tell that I’m hungry.”

“Mind reading is a cooler super power than being a hunger meter.”

“Mm mm, I disagree.” He loosens his arms so you can pull back and see each other.

“You’d look damn good in a cape though.” Tommy has this special smile that's exclusive to your compliments. He doesn’t worry that the adorable soft spot under his chin turns into a roll. His nose scrunches, revealing the minor asymmetries of his perfect mouth. Thomas had a tooth pulled on the right side at age 11, so only the left side is slightly crowded. In moments of intense passion you liked to lick where his canine overlapped with the tooth behind it. He never quite understood that.

“Well, I can’t argue with facts,” he shrugs, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the station.

“Maybe they’ll have a cape vendor next week!” From then on, things are light hearted, because he's so good at that. The train is mostly empty, which somehow makes the plastic seating marginally less uncomfortable. Thomas takes a piece of gum out of your purse, laughing at the collection of accidently stolen pens bearing the insignia of various offices. Before he can crumple the wrapper, you take it and the Central Manhattan Dentistry pen to make a sketch of Thomas. He strikes a philosophical pose and you use your knee cap as a table for seven stops.

“You need to pick a pose you can hold.”

“I can hold this,” he insists, chin in the deep between his thumb and pointer finger. He starts regretting it at stop two, but doesn’t admit defeat until stop five. Of course the drawing is horrible, but efforts to throw it away are met with progressively more zealous insistence from Thomas that the piece be displayed in custom framing. Through all the squabbling, the wrapper gets torn accidentally. Automatically, you brace for the fallout.

“Aww! You’ll have to draw me another one next week,” he laughs, rubbing your arm affectionately, lips to temple. It was his Everything Is Okay kiss, his You Didn’t Mess Up At All kiss, his I’m Not Mad At You Baby kiss, his I’m Never Gonna Yell kiss.

“You know, I was thinking we should finish the ciabatta loaf today, before it goes stale. Your mint plant has been looking really good. I read this new technique where you turn the pot a quarter every week so the sun…” The gum wrapper flutters to the floor as you stand to get off, all of it forgotten.

Three blocks away from your second home and you realize it's gonna be one of those days. One of those days where your mind and the world collaborate to make you dust off every single coping mechanism in your repertoire. On the opposite side of the street a group of five wearing NYU swag are captivated by the epic row between similarly aged romantic partners. A man and a woman screaming with both windows open.

“Who the fuck doesn’t have the decency to close their windows?” This question is promptly answered, as the woman launches a speaker out of the second story window. Thomas stops to watch with his mouth agape, enthralled. On the other side of the street, you may be safe from shrapnel, but those college kids are taking chances with their proximity. What if one of them got hurt? Who would take them to the hospital? Which hospital? Would you have to call 911? Would they get mad at you for calling 911? What if the disbatcher fucks up and the ambulence never comes?

“You fucking bitch, this is the kind of shit that makes me want to wring your neck!”

“Oh yeah, threaten me, baby,” she replies with heavy sarcasm, bending over to push something towards the window. The man lunges in her direction. He’s going to slap her. He’s just picking something up. It's a toaster. He’s gonna bludgeon her with the toaster. No he’s throwing it out the window. This one lands on a car and the alarm begins blaring.

“Holy shit, this is like reality TV in real life,” Thomas chuckles.

“I don’t want to threaten you! I don’t want to be that guy! But you make me into that guy!” You make me.

“I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU,” she screams, hysterically trying to convince herself of this fact. She was terrified and sent a second speaker out the window. This one lands differently. Instead of a thud, you can hear it break into pieces as soon as it hits the cement. She has to get out of there. They’re both wasted, but she's belligerent and slurring.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me, you crazy bitch! I deserve respect, as the man of the house!” he bellows. You shudder violently, because that sentence is way too familiar.

“I already called the police so shut the fuck up!” screams someone from the unit directly behind you. This time you startle so severely that your feet leave the ground for a moment. The man throws the microwave out of the window and the glass tray inside breaks. The sound of glass breaking always made you nauseous, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink.

“Yeah? And what the fuck do you think the police are going to do!? Fucking NOTHING.” Her voice is guttural, rubbed raw and trashed. You can taste the copper in your mouth, just like you know she can. Blood diluted by spit from screaming.

“Get out. Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT,” she wails, nearly falling over as she points to the window.

“This is my apartment. I pay for ALL of this shit!” There's that male rage again, its only purpose is to create subservience out of fear. Compliance from children who just want the sound to stop, whose insides get twisted up everytime their caretaker uses fear as a means to an end and then calls that love. Children who grow up damaged because they were taught that the world is scary and ruthless and unfeeling.

If you hadn’t been in the midst of a flashback, your reflexes would have been better. Plates, glasses, mugs, the sounds of these breaking were your biggest triggers, the thing you just couldn’t defeat. When the woman pours a half-packed cardboard box out of the window, you can’t get your hands over your ears fast enough. It’s all kitchenware and at least half a dozen plates have shattered on the pavement by the time you’ve muffled the sound.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. No! No, no! STOP!” Someone was screaming, but not the woman in the second story apartment. It was your mother’s voice, or maybe your sister’s. They didn’t even live in this state, what the hell were they doing here? You can feel yourself being shaken, and only then realize that you’re in the dark.

“Y/n? Y/n? Y/n, amour, amour, tell me what's happening. Tesorina, do you need me to – should I, um, do I call…I don't know. I don’t know how to help. I should and I don’t. Fuck.” Finally you’re aware that the voice is speaking to you directly and open your eyes. Tommy is alarmed, bordering on panic. Finally the connection is made: you were the one screaming. Seeing his face brings the present into focus. He’s sitting on the ground which is why you’re crouched over. Or rather the cause and effect is the other way around.

One artichoke is on top of the storm drain, canvas bag crumpled beside you. The blown glass guitar Thomas had purchased and entrusted you to carry is shattered beyond repair. That metaphor and the public embarrassment, is what finally brings you to tears.

“I br – bro – oke it. ‘M s – sorry.” Thomas looks absolutely mystified until he follows your line of sight. Hands still clamped over your ears, it sounds like you’re speaking underwater.

“Oh my god, tesorina, I don’t care. What can I do?”

“Home,” you squeak, vision blurred.

“Of course.” Thomas takes the bag and letting him pull it from your arm means briefly uncovering your ear. The couple are now whisper-yelling, sparing glances in your direction. Bucklist item achieved: screaming at someone to stop shouting and they actually stop shouting. The first step forward, a piece of the broken guitar shatters under your boot.

“I ruined it,” you manage to blurt, before giving into a gasping sob.

“It doesn’t matter, tesorina.” Little treasure. Thomas reaches out and you snatch your hand away without thinking. Betrayal. He hides it at an impressive speed, but it's there.

“I’m s –ss – sorry. Ruined it,” you sob. “I – everything, I ju –just –”

“It’s a piece of glass,” he whispers. “I love you and it's just a piece of glass. It’s a thing, y/n.” Slowly, you reach forward, and Tommy meticulously laces his fingers with yours, one at a time. When your hands are clasped his thumb brushes back and forth, soothing.

You never look up from the stained pavement, not once, even during a busy intersection. You can’t tell if you’re crying because you can’t feel your face. No words are spoken, but Thomas’ anxiety radiates from every pore. You stumble behind him, led by the hand, stomach in your throat as you free fall into a storming chasm of childhood memories. On the fourth stair you trip and land on all fours, so Thomas leads you to the elevator instead.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Y/n?” You stare at the upholstered wall. Chocolate brown with tan line work weaving in and out of itself. You count every time the lines cross. At 36 something touches your back. You wrench away from it and whip around. Thomas is holding the elevator open with one hand because this is his floor. The other hand had tried to gently guide you.

The heavy front door slams shut. That sound hasn’t made you jump for months, but today it prompts a sharp inhale that has you choking on your own spit.

“Tesorina, are you okay? Are you okay?” The carpet had been freshly cleaned, but the cigarette mark burned into the cream-colored fibers remained. Vision blurring out of focus, you remind yourself that these feelings are from a past life. You no longer inhabit a space where they’re true. Movement in your peripheral makes you blink hard to clear the tears from your eyes. It’s Thomas, crawling across the floor. He kneels at your feet to meet your downturned eyes. He waits.

He weeps. Tries not to, but ends up having to wipe his eyes roughly. Tommy is visibly sickened by the magnitude of his empathy. He feels what you feel, and knowing how unbearable that is, you reach a hand out to cup his face. He places his hand over yours, brings it to his lips. Tommy kisses every finger tip, every knuckle, then palm, wrist, forearm. At seven years old, you’d watched your mother get “Corinthians 1:13” tattooed in the same place after an AA meeting. She repeated that verse to you like building a shield. Looking into your boyfriend’s face now, you understand that it was never about religion.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

You collapse into his arms and he catches you. Instead of letting you hide against his neck, Tommy presses his forehead to yours.

“Nothing bad is going to happen if you look at me,” he whispers. The habit was totally subconscious and you met his gaze.

“Hey, here,” he hands you a paper towel. Gracelessly, you blow your nose. The velcro on the sleeve of your jacket scratches so you take that off. Usually Tommy would help, but he’d taken his hands away as soon as you were stable and was sitting on them. For some reason that makes you cry again. At first it’s a couple tears and then you burst into ugly sobs, hands hiding your face.

“Y/n can you nod yes or no?” You nod and Thomas lets out a long sigh. “Do you understand that I’m not mad at all?” Nod. Deep breath. Shaky exhale. Sob.

“Repeat,” you croak.

“Okay. I’m not mad at you about anything, past, present, or future. There is no anger in my body.”

“Annoyed?” You take a shuddering breath to calm down, able to stop the tears.

“I am not annoyed at all either. No negative emotions directed at you.” You nod and peak through your fingers. Tommy's eyes are so damn earnest.

“No negative emotions directed at you,” he repeats. “I’m not gonna slam the door.” You nod, fighting the wave of suffocating anxiety from the mere suggestion. “I’m not going to break something or yell.” Back to sobbing, and now you’re choking on your own hair. “Shit, I’m sorry.” It was too close to home, but hearing the words would make breathing easier if not for the tears.

“Hug me,” you manage. Thomas slowly wraps you in a loose embrace. He’s leaning way forward, so your torsos aren’t touching. You climb onto his lap and squeeze, demonstrating what kind of hug you want. He sighs in relief and properly holds you.

“Can I rub your back?” Nod. His right hand runs up and down, applying light pressure. Seated sideways, you lean your head on his shoulder; hiccups, but no waterworks. Tommy’s Adam's Apple bobs when he swallows hard. He nicked himself shaving this morning.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. This is my fault.” Just from his voice, you can hear that Tommy is also trying not to cry. “I know your history, but I just stood there and like, watched the worst trigger imaginable.”

“It's not your fault.”

“I should have gotten you away from there as quickly as possible, not stood to watch like a…” the self-disgust in his voice is palpable. “Piece of shit.”

“Thomas!”

“I’m not saying it was my fault, but I could have prevented it.” He lets out an uneasy, heavy sigh. This was way too much to navigate right now. Disagreeing would cause conflict and conflict would cause –

“Woah, breathe, baby, breathe.” Tommy rocks back and forth. “You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m just really sorry.” You scoff.

“I had a full fledged meltdown in front of everyone. Then I broke the sculpture.”

“I swear to god, if you mention that sculpture one more time.” Even with his voice void of malice, the blood in your veins turns to ice water. “I don’t care about the sculpture, I care about – Wait, no, no, no, that's not how I meant to phrase that at all. I care about you, not the glass thing, that doesn’t matter. God damn it Tom,” he groans, head tilted back. “Please breathe, amour,” he pleads as you shiver.

“You lied. You are mad.” You get up. With tightly balled into fists, you walk to the sink. Rinsing your face doesn’t help and how he’s seen your hands shaking. You grip the counter and scrunch your eyes closed. How much anger had he buried and when was the reckoning? Would there be any warning? You couldn’t live your life bracing for it.

“Thomas, just get it over with.” You set your jaw, determined to stop the tears for good.

“Get over what?” he asks, standing up.

“Just fight with me now.”

“I just don't want to fight with you.”

“Just yell at me now and get it over with!” What was meant to be stern comes out as a scream, the same kind of scream the woman three blocks up used. Somehow the sound was still bottled up inside you, all these years later.

“Mia vita, I am not going to yell at you. I have never yelled at you.” You roll your eyes at his idealism, that hardened exterior that kept you alive going up.

“In every relationship people yell at eachother. Eventually you were going to yell at me. So just do it now.”

“Over a piece of glass? C’mon, we know this isn’t really about that. ”

“I’m. Not. Crazy.”

“Of course not.” He’s wide eyed and vulnerable, no defensiveness. “I didn’t mean to imply that, but maybe I did and I’m really, really sorry.” Taken aback, you wait for the rest of it.

“I know what anger sounds like, Thomas.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have watched my words and compartmentalized.” His tone of voice remains soft, regardless of your escalation. Again, you wait.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t do this,” you snap. It feels like your heart is being squeezed in your father’s fist. Thomas is taken aback.

“Amour, I don’t understand,” he chokes, suddenly desperate.

“You wouldn’t make me wait and wonder when it's gonna happen, live in fear of when you’re going to snap!” The words fall to the floor with the same weight as stereo speakers out of a second story window. They just lay there on the kitchen tile, ugly and mangled. You’d like to clean them up before the grout is stained red, but don’t have the right supplies. Now you’ll have to get a carpet to hide the stains, or fabricate a perfectly anecdotal lie for house guests, or remodel the kitchen.

Thomas pulls a bar stool out from under the island, carrying it so the legs don’t scuff against the floor. He sits down gingerly.

“Will you come here, please?” Deciding that Thomas isn’t the type to set traps, you walk over. Standing between his parted legs, you’re the same height.

“Look at me,” he murmurs. You meet his eyes and find no aggression, just his gentle demeanor. Tommy extends a hand, asking you to take it. He puts your palm against his heart and that iron clad exterior falls away.

“I am upset with the situation, not you. I am upset at those people who made their relationship the whole neighborhood’s problem. I’m upset at myself for handling it poorly. I’m upset that none of the adults in your childhood acted like adults and now you have to suffer. I am not upset with you. I do not care about a piece of glass. I do not care if the whole neighborhood thinks I’m dating a crazy person. You are my crazy person and I love you.” What a relief it is to believe him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry –”

“No.”

“No?”

“You don’t get to apologize about this.”

“But in the elevator I –”

“Nope.”

“The artichoke.”

“Errr,” Tommy makes a sound like a game show buzzer.

“I had a full mental breakdown in public.”

“And?”

“I’m sorr–” He interrupts by loudly shushing you. “The snot!”

“Approval pending.”

“Okay, but for real, I’m sorry for screaming at you. I don’t know where that came from. Well, actually I do. I just didn’t know that it was so close to the surface.”

“Apology accepted,” he hums, wrapping an arm around your waist. You startle and Thomas begins to pull away, but you stop him.

“I’m going to be jumpy for a while, but that doesn’t mean don’t touch me.”

“I hate that you’re scared of me,” he whispers.

“I’m not scared of you. It's a memory.” As soon as your hands touch his face, Tommy’s eyelids close with heaviness. He’s not expecting the kiss. The skin of your lips sticks together, tacky from tears and saliva.

“You are my lighthouse.”

Notes: Well wasn't that some nice light reading! I am an attention whore so feel free to give me feedback.

-XOXO Eden

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