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icallhimjoey · 2 months ago

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Almost, Always

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: i want to thank @lfdybadgirlsdiw again, bc she sent in a small request that mentioned 'former lovers that keep going back to each other, even if they are seeing other people' which then sparked this whole story into existence 🖤 i also want to sincerely apologise to all the girls that have reached out and taught me that none of us lead unique lives (which in this case is terrible, but also, really comforting) thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy this last part, and i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Wordcount: 7.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The world felt muted. Dull, and empty. Deeply hollow, and completely void of colour.

There was only so much shit a person could take before enough was enough, and finally, after accepting the bare minimum from Joe for far too long, you decided you no longer wanted it.

The sky hung heavy, and the beginnings of what would eventually feel like an endless winter promised to keep the mood low and bleak for the rest of the season. There was an under-skin discomfort only the passing of time was going to be able to shed.

You broke up with Joe.

It fucking sucked. There was confusion, and deep hurt. Anger. Defeat.

And yet, you felt weirdly proud of yourself.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.” Emily had told you time and time again. Finally, you’d listened. You knew she was going to be so proud, which gave a small sense of relief.

Everything else felt bleak, though. Like time had stopped on the moment of impact. Hands of the clock frozen in time, forever showing the point at which it truly landed for Joe.

Joe hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Didn’t know if he had ever felt like this before, if he was honest. There was a difficulty in processing the shock, in accepting there was even a shock to begin with, but he knew you were right. It was why he couldn’t stop saying it.

“Don’t feel bad, you’re right. You’re right.”

It felt wrong to be right, and you didn’t want to be right ever again if this is what it’d be like.

The little sliver of pride inside of you wasn’t getting the attention it deserved in the moment, but that was okay. You’d get to it later. And maybe, one day, Joe would too.

“Will you,” Joe broke the silence, voice hoarse and throat in pain. He cleared it, which didn’t help much, and hopefully finished, “Will you stay the night?”

You’d been sat in the quiet dark for quite a while, just listening to each other breathe. It started with Joe perched on the very edge of his sofa, leg shaking as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying.

You’d sat down next to him then, and he’d immediately pulled you close, hands gripping and trying their best to hold onto whatever there was for him to hold onto still.

Just was a shame there wasn’t much left for him to grasp.

“I don’t think I should.”

You wanted to.

Badly.

But you genuinely didn’t think that would be a good idea.

You felt how Joe shifted a little, arms moving to wrap you up differently from how they had been. He was unsure of how to hold you, but tried his best to find a way that made you want to stay.

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t…”

If you weren’t absolutely determined, the soft brokenness of Joe’s voice would’ve made you give in instantly.

“But will you?” Joe tried again.

“Joe…”

“I know, I know, please, don’t…” Joe faltered. There were a lot of things Joe didn’t want you to do. Please don’t say it. Please don’t repeat yourself.

Please don’t leave.

There was a stillness that had taken over the room - the world - when Joe realised that you weren’t joking. A stillness where even the wind outside hesitated to stir. You weren’t saying shit just to get a reaction out of him. You weren’t trying to get him to say words you wanted him to say. You’d been serious from the second you’d walked into Joe’s flat, and Joe felt stupid how he had just… immediately dismissed you. How he hadn’t even really listened as you spoke to him.

It had been a few days since you’d seen each other, and you’d secretly been collecting and saving bravery. You’d avoided Joe for a few days whilst you kept busy, storing all the courage you could find in a secret spot inside of your body, waiting for it to be enough to drive you into just fucking saying it already.

Joe hadn’t questioned the stupid excuses you’d come up with to not see him a couple of nights in a row. Hadn’t questioned it at all, didn’t seem to really care about it either, which only added to your valour. To the ‘he doesn’t even give a shit’ narrative that you needed to believe with your full heart, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have decided to spontaneously text him, “on my way over” before flying out the door.

If you could stop your hands from shaking, that’d be great, but you were going to do this. You were going to ride this wave of determination, without or with a shaking body.

When you stepped into Joe’s flat, sick with nerves and heavy tension, Joe was hunched over a messy open drawer of a side cupboard.

“Have you seen my earphones? Wired ones?” he rummaged through with both hands.

No hi. No hello. No I’ve not seen you in days, come here, let me kiss you silly.

Have you seen my earphones.

The real important stuff.

“My wireless ones, the left bud has stopped charging itself…”

And you knew exactly where Joe’s wired earphones were.

For a second, you debated giving in. Debated using this as your out. Debated smiling, rolling your eyes all fondly, being the helpful girl Joe needed in this moment. It was tempting to forcibly forget about the one sentence you’d repeated inside of your mind over and over and over again since you’d walked out your door.

Fingers rubbed over the hems of your sleeves as you stood in the doorway still, and you felt where you’d rubbed literal holes into the fabric.

“Pay a fucking fortune for nice ones and still, it’s the same bullshit, nice or not, it’s…” Joe finally turned his head to look at you when you remained silent. He watched you for a second before he stood up straight.

“Hey… you okay?” he frowned, hands fiddling with whatever junk he’d found instead of what he was looking for.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m very happy anymore…”

There.

The words were out.

You’d said them, and even though you’d expected the world to maybe crack open and for everything to immediately go to absolute shit... nothing happened.

But you’d said the words, and the tiniest littlest speck of gratification popped up inside of your chest.

You had to actively remember how to breathe, but if you’d leave right now, at least you had said those words.

“All right,” Joe frowned a little, and cast his eyes back down to whatever his hands were doing. “What needs changing then? You can turn the heating up, if you want.”

Joe’s casual dismissal felt sharp as a blade, severing any hope of fixing this. Of saving it. It was completely mismatched to how tense you felt.

“No, I’m not…” you felt your knees shake as Joe continued rummaging. Suddenly, you were way more nervous to say those exact same words once again. “I’m not happy. Anymore.” You had to swallow straight after, mouth dry, tongue thick.

“All right,” Joe made an annoyed face at a random electrical wire he found, and continued, “So what needs changing then?”

His slight annoyance fed everything bad inside. Joe was unknowingly coaxing you into the exact right headspace for what needed doing.

“This.”

Joe still wasn’t looking at you.

“This what?”

Part of you wanted to show your frustration. The anger. Wanted to clench your fists and exhale roughly through flared nostrils to show him, to make him see. You wish you wanted to raise your voice and fight. But the unrelenting defeat of the moment rooted itself deeper inside of your body. The lack of care coming from Joe, the attention he wasn’t giving you, the dismissal of what you’d just told him, because his wired earphones were obviously so much more important than you were... it all combined into nothing more than a simple shrug.

You remained calm, protectively flat, and just… shrugged.

“This.”

You repeated yourself once more, and when Joe didn’t even seem to properly hear you, you looked at the open door that lead to the hallway which had his bedroom at the end of it.

You knew where Joe’s wired earphones were.

What followed were slow and measured footsteps that carried you over into Joe’s bedroom where you found the wired earphones in one of his bedside tables before you slowly made your way back over to him.

With a soft hand, you reached for one of his and held it in yours, palm up, to place the earphones into.

“Oh! Where did you find–”

“I think I need to stop thinking that things are going to ever be different…”

You looked Joe in the eye, and it was like he only then noticed what he was looking at. Like the earphones being found closed a chapter, and now there was attention for you and, oh, you didn’t look very happy.

“It’s never going to be different… is it?”

You looked very sad, actually.

Sort of drained of life.

Really tired.

“Hey, are you all right?” Joe discarded his earphones to the side and grabbed hold of one of your elbows, pulling you a little closer.

“Things aren’t going to ever be different, are they?”

You saw how Joe copied the knit of your eyebrows, face going from a little confused to very suddenly filled with deep worry.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Like, with us. This.” You stepped back, just slightly, creating distance.

“Are you… are you being serious right now?” And Joe stepped forward, moving right along with you to close that distance again.

“I think...” you sighed, eyes closed but back straight and chin up. Strong. “I think I need a change.”

“Baby… a change like what? What are you talking about?”

One of Joe’s hands cupped your cheek, thumb pushing underneath your jaw, taking the weight of your whole head as he tipped your head just right for eye-contact.

“Joe, I’m not… this isn’t what I want.”

“Me?”

No.

“Us.”

“Oh…”

Joe’s eyes moved between yours, searching for the slightest little bit of softness you still had for him.

He found it easily.

“I’m sorry.”

But he hadn’t expected the compassion there to be sympathy and pity for the situation you were placing Joe into.

At first, there’d been a surge of angry confusion. Of Joe stepping back and jokingly accusing you of being daft. Of telling you that your heart had frozen over because he probably hadn’t turned the heating up high enough. He asked if you’d eaten. If maybe you’d been drinking. Anything to make sense of what was going on, of why you’d walked into his flat on a random evening to tell him things he didn’t want to hear.

Then, there’d been yelling. Hurried large steps got paced around his living room, his arms flying about in unrestrained wild gestures. “You keep referring to past mistakes! You always say you forgive and forget, but you’re not forgetting shit!”, “Have you been hanging out– did you just come straight over from Emily? Has she been planting shit into your brain that you– you can’t actually be fucking serious right now!”, “God, this is so fucking annoying! You’re being annoying!”, “Are you sure this is what you want to do? The worst. Just the fucking worst!”. Joe’s voice went up as he screamed, cracking when he got too passionate, and you wished that had been new information to you.

Eventually, there’d been a weird composed faux acceptance that felt like a manipulative tranquility that Joe adapted to simply show you that you didn’t actually want what you were asking for. A childish, ‘Fine, I’ll give you what you want, see how it sucks?!’ just to prove to you that you were wrong.

When you didn’t budge, and it all finally really landed, everything changed.

Joe turned soft.

Went from frantic movements to suddenly sighing the deepest sigh he’d ever sighed to slowly making his way over to you, hesitating slightly when moving in to hug you, but then going for a full both-arm-tight-wrap-up when you didn’t flinch away.

After about a minute of tightly embracing, you heard Joe sniff close to your ear, and you realised he was crying.

“Joe, I’m sorry, I–”

“No, no.” Joe pulled back, used his sleeve to quickly wipe at his face before going, “No, look at me. Look. You’re right. I’m the one- no, look. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t– you’re right, you’re…” Joe moved both his hands into his hair, a flash of panic, and had to take a few steps as he inhaled deeply.

“You’re not annoying.”

You saw how his jaw clenched. How he rapidly blinked to keep further tears at bay.

“I don’t know why…” Joe started, sitting down on the edge of his sofa as he rubbed a hand across his face. “It just… it never even occurred to me that you had the option to… to go anywhere. But you’re right.”

You didn’t care about being right. It didn’t feel nice to be right about something so devastating.

Looking at Joe, broken boy unsure of where to steer his thoughts and his emotions, you knew this wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you’d envisioned for the both of you. But, to be fair, almost nothing about what you’d become together had come about because you’d envisioned it that way.

You moved to sit down next to Joe and got immediately taken a hold of.

“Will you stay the night?”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t... but, will you?”

“Joe…” you couldn’t tell him you would. Couldn’t reply with the ‘I will’ he wanted from you.

“I know, I know, please... don’t…”

If you weren’t going to stay the night, at least Joe would have this. Long quiet minutes, sat on his sofa together. Touching. Staring into nothingness. The longer he could keep you there, the better.

He found new ways to hug.

Different ways to hold.

Arms moved, swiped, squeezed and felt, mapping your every inch in a desperate bid to remember.

Joe took hold of the back of your neck in the exact way he knew you liked, thumb pressing into the dip at the base of your skull, rubbing small circles there.

And you gave him that.

Gave him this moment, frozen in time, just before you’d eventually walk out without plans of ever returning.

“You do know,” Joe started off, voice barely there in a whisper, words pressed into the skin just behind your ear. “You know that I really do love you, don’t you?”

And the world shattered.

The first real and sincere I love you that you’d ever gotten from him.

That wasn’t meant to hurt like it did.

“You know that right?”

All you could do was give a small nod that Joe felt with his face as you fought with all of your being to not burst into tears.

“I love you.”

The cruelest goodbye present you hadn’t asked for, thrusted into your lap at the worst possible time, and you had no other choice than to just simply accept it.

“Yea... love you, too.”

You can see him in the reflection of the window that the treadmills are aimed at, leisurely strolling into your line of sight. Towel over his shoulder, wearing his grey hoodie, wired earphones already in his ears, and eyes on his phone as he seems to sort through a playlist.

It’s been a day.

One single day.

One day since you’d woken up on his sofa.

One day since you’d said yes to a morning coffee that you probably shouldn’t have said yes to.

One day since you’d called the guy in your flat and had to explain why you’d left him in your bed on his own in the middle of the night.

One day since Joe sat across the table from you, coffee in hand, and listened to you stutter through vague excuses.

One day since you’d groaned at yourself for being so fucking stupid, and asked Joe, “What the fuck are we doing...”

One day since he’d shrugged and regretfully told you he wished he had an answer to that question.

To all of your questions, for that matter.

Joe showing up to your gym isn’t coincidental. It simply can’t be. It makes no sense for Joe to go to the gym that’s right around the corner from your flat.

There’s also no way he hasn’t seen you.

There’s not a chance he doesn’t know you’re here.

This is what Joe does, what he did just a short while ago, and he goes about it in almost the exact same way.

His slow pace gives him away.

The fact that he stops just as he has passed you, giving the free treadmill next to yours a quick glance as if he’s only just decided, yea I can do a bit of cardio here, why not, gives him away.

The moment his fucking awful purple pumas touch the machine next to you, you stop looking at him in the reflection. Eyes straight ahead. You keep them firmly trained on yourself instead, and keep a steady pace.

Yea. You hate the gym.

But you’re here to work out, and work out only.

Not to socialise.

Not to potentially run into someone.

Not to prove to someone, to anyone, that you’re a person that goes to the gym now.

No.

You’re there to work out. Guilt has been slowly eating at you until the anxiety of it all, the extreme criticism aimed at yourself, became too much and physical exercise seemed like the only healthy way out.

The only healthy way through.

You’re working out to feel better about yourself, about the choices that you’ve made, and you fucking hate every single second of it. But, you’re only about halfway through what you’d set out to do, and the plan is to fucking finish it. To do the full routine, no ifs ands or buts.

From your peripheral vision, you can see how Joe turns the machine on and how he throws the screen of yours an obvious glance.

Then, he sets the speed to just a little faster than yours.

Idiot.

For a little while it’s easy to ignore him. Makes sense, since you’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. You could look right through him if you wanted to, face blank, eyes all hollow. Sometimes that was just what he deserved, and you remember how it always felt shockingly good to push his buttons by simply pretending he wasn’t there.

You’re an expert in driving this man insane.

But driving him insane isn’t the end goal here – instead it’s trying to hold yourself together, to harden yourself just enough, to not let him drive you insane.

So you ignore him.

Focus on your breathing. The whirring of the treadmill. The miles you’ve already run. How may more you have to go. Your own heartrate. The position of your feet.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Breathe in, in.

Breathe out, out.

God, you fucking hate running, but there’s something that itches you about the fact that Joe put the speed of his treadmill a half mile per hour faster than yours.

And it’s not a fair race – which is what this fucking is now: a race – because he’s just wandered in and you’ve been going for a while already.

But maybe that’s actually good.

This guy’s not warmed up. Just got on the treadmill and started bolting.

Idiot.

It doesn’t take long for Joe’s breathing to pick up. For it to become audible to you, and you know he’s not going to be able to keep this up much longer.

Just when you think Joe’s going to reach over and lower the speed of his treadmill, you decide to double down on this inevitable win and press the plus button twice.

Twice.

And fuck, you immediately regret it. The burn in your legs is merciless. An unforgiving persistent ache, yet the burn in your lungs is worse.

In, in. Out, out. In, in. Out, out.

Some of the sweat that’s dripping down your face gets stopped by your eyebrows, yet some also gets past and goes straight into your eyes, but fuck off, you’re winning.

You can do this.

You can pretend you just wanted to run extra fast for a minute. Maybe two.

Four minutes.

You manage four minutes before your start getting scared your legs are going to turn into actual jelly. For fear of tripping over your own feet and launching yourself backwards across the gym floor, you have to slow it down.

The second you do, Joe does as well.

It feels like your lungs have forgotten how to absorb oxygen, but you’re walking, and it’s fine. You did slow down your treadmill before Joe did, but you ran faster than him and, all together, ran for much longer, so it’s a win.

You’ve won.

You’ll die on this hill– you won and Joe lost and he is a loser.

There’s another moment where you can see Joe glance over, and even though you’re both at a walking pace, he still goes to adjust his speed so it’s higher than yours. Then, he removes his earphones.

Time to acknowledge his presence.

“You don’t go to this gym.” You manage to say before Joe gets a chance to get a word in.

Shit, you’re panting.

“I don’t?” But so is Joe. “Weird place for me to be then.”

You give him a look.

“Why are you here?”

Joe pulls a face he always pulls when he’s about to make a joke. It’s a stern face that’s hiding a smile so well, it just looks like he’s a frowning asshole.

“Hmm. Why... am I here?” he repeats seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him. Then he looks around and uses an arm to showcase the gym he’s in, like it’s obvious he’s there to work out. It makes you feel like he’s making fun of you, which immediately stirs up animosity inside you.

“Well,” you start collecting your things. Towel, water bottle, phone. “Good luck. Get swole, or whatever.”

And you’re off.

“I’ll see you for a coffee, after!” Joe calls after you, and when you turn your head, you see him smirk as he wipes his towel across his forehead.

“No thanks!” you make yourself sound as polite and upbeat as you can whilst turning him down.

Joe watches you walk away, past some of the rowing machines, and he sees how other guys glance a look at you.

He doesn’t blame them.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, just that he wants to be near you. If that means going over to yours unannounced just to see you cross the street and enter the gym, rushing back home to get his own kit and making his way back over to get a guest pass, and then super casually accidentally ending up on a treadmill next to you, well, then... that’s what he’ll do.

Joe doesn’t know what he’s doing.

What you’re doing.

Why he’s been excited every time he’s seen you over the past couple of months. Why he’s been sad every time you parted ways again.

He doesn’t know why you keep coming back after you ended it all, but what he does know is that it must mean that it’s not over.

Not fully.

There’s a door there, still open enough for him to squeeze through, and yesterday, he realised he would actually rather hurt himself whilst struggling to get through your door, than pick any of the other doors that girls are holding wide open for him.

Joe watches you make your way over to the weight machines and you decide to pretend Joe’s not really there. Decide to pretend that there’s not something dangerously delightful about seeing Joe all sweaty and out of breath.

You get on with your work out routine.

Do the leg press for a bit. Some leg curls. Some extensions.

Nothing for the arms.

You have no upper body strength, and Joe’s watching. You’re very much doing your best to pretend he’s not there, but, you still find yourself secretly checking if you’re being watched.

And you are.

You ignore the furious blush on your cheeks and tell yourself it’s just because your exercising. The heat you feel in your face is just there because you’re moving. S’got nothing to do with Joe, who’s in your peripheral vision the whole time.

He’s strategically moving across the gym floor, standing in front of mirrors that reflect the best views of you, and yea, sure, he’s holding weights in both his hands, but he’s not really doing much, is he? He’ll curl an arm up every couple of seconds, but there’s barely any effort there.

Which makes sense.

Joe’s busy watching.

He’s watching you work out as discretely as he can.

He knows you’re aware of it too. Knows you’re following his whereabouts. Sees you check over your shoulder a little more often than seems normal to check your surroundings. Knows you’re having the absolute worst time because you hate physical exercise like this, but he watches as you power through.

Watches as you seem to finish up.

Watches you leave for the changing rooms, and he quickly does the same. Drops the weights he was still holding right where he’s standing and rushes to get his things because he wants to be ready and waiting by the door when you walk out.

You’re faster than expected.

Joe’s only just left the men’s changing rooms, zipping up his jacket, when he sees you emerge from the women’s.

You see him too.

Of course you do.

But you look right past him as you leave the building, and Joe has to scramble to get the door before it smacks him in the face as he follows you out.

“That was a quick shower.” Joe muses, following your tail.

“I shower at home.” You simply answer, looking for traffic both ways.

“Yea? Can’t tempt you into getting a quick coffee together somewhere?”

Joe dashes after you as you cross the street and comes to walk next to you.

“I’ve got coffee at home.” You dismiss him, but Joe hasn’t given up half his morning for you to suddenly use your sound, responsible mind. Not after yesterday.

“Oh, great. Even better.”

For whatever reason, even after all the interactions you’ve had with Joe post break-up, this feels like the first time it means something. Maybe it’s because it’s been a literal single day since you woke up next to him on his sofa, or maybe it’s because it was a little difficult to look at yourself in the mirror after.

You stop walking abruptly and it takes Joe two whole steps to realise you’re no longer next to him.

“What are you...” you falter, brow furrowed as you look at him.

“Doing?” Joe finishes for you, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m doing what we do– what we have been doing.”

He says it so plainly, like there’s not a million things wrong with that. Like he hadn’t invited you over to stay the night at his flat when there was a whole other person in his bed, likely wondering why the fuck she woke up on her own, just like the guy you’d left in yours.

You’re terrible people, and what Joe is meant to do, is self-loathe in his own time until the feeling has faded enough for a new bout of dumb decisions. You know, like you’re doing.

“You can’t just–...”

“Can’t what?”

Your eyes fall to Joe’s stupid trainers, his faded ugly purple pumas, and you hate how you like that he wore them.

This is never going to be over, is it?

You know with every fibre of your being that you shouldn’t.

But, fuck.

You want to.

You really, really want to.

“Don’t you feel bad?” you ask, hoping that at least Joe will confirm that you’re not overreacting.

You should feel bad.

The both of you.

There’s the slightest moment of introspection from Joe that you see across his face before he smiles at your rosy cheeks and goes, “I do. But not... not about this. What does it matter if I want to go and have a drink with you? Hmm? Who cares about that?”

Well.

Probably that girl that slammed the door of his flat yesterday. And, you also kind of hope that he cares, but it’s difficult to sort through and articulate your thoughts and feelings about that in the moment.

“Do you feel bad?” Joe asks, a hand reaching over to touch you on the arm.

“I feel terrible...” you admit on a heavy exhale. You also feel sweaty and sticky and gross.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yea, well... you should be. Because it’s your fault,” you show the slightest of smiles and fall back into step. “And because your shoes are ugly.”

Joe watches you walk away for a bit, trying to wrap his head around it. Around you. Finds that he was right before: he just wants to be near you, still.

He just wants to be near you always, actually.

He’s lucky you’ve got the same issue.

It’s why you let Joe into your flat.

Why the first thing you do when you get in is make Joe a coffee since he was so adamant about having some.

When he sees that you’re not making yourself a cup, he goes and does it for you. Makes you the perfect cup of coffee, exactly how you like it, and you have to really hide how giddy that makes you feel. Can’t give away how that means something to you. So instead, you make him laugh when, in lieu of sugar, you slide a salt shaker across the table, just because you think Joe needs to know that he’s welcome here, but that he’s not really... welcome here.

“You’re so annoying, my God.” Joe shakes his head, fondness practically dripping from the words as he smiles. He’ll make you a million more cups of coffee if it means you’ll make him laugh like that.

In turn, you laugh at jokes Joe makes about you going for your shower, telling you that you must be exhausted and he’ll gladly help out and hold you up. You know, no big deal, even though he remembers that your shower is small and barely fits two people in.

“We’ll just have to stand really close together.” you quip, joining the bit.

“It will be so awkward for me, but I’ll self-sacrfice, not a problem.”

You laugh together, and Joe drinks the coffee you made for him, and you drink the coffee that he made for you. There’s a moment of silence before you semi-seriously say, “I’m really not meant to have you over.”

It’s complicated. It’s fine, but it’s not.

“Yea... you probably shouldn’t. You’re right.” Joe flirts. “You’re right.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting though...” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. “We’re not to be trusted, I don’t think...”

Joe eyes you for a short moment, then leans forward a little and carefully says, “You’re allowed to set your expectations aside every once in a while, you know... we can just enjoy our time. Nothing wrong with that.”

You can’t help but smile, because the sentiment is sweet, but unfortunately, it doesn’t really work like that. Before you know it, you’ll be back right where you were before, kicking yourself over placing yourself back in that same crappy situation.

A grimacing discontented nose-scrunch does all the talking for you.

“All right,” Joe says on the back-end of a sigh, slapping both legs as he gets up, already heading towards the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

You put an arm out and get a handful of his sleeve before he gets even close to leaving, and Joe turns his head to grin at you like you’d played directly into his trap.

Which, you probably just had done.

Had been doing.

“Oh?” Joe startles playfully. “Am I wanted, then?”

The handful of shirt gets pulled into your direction until Joe’s standing really close, and you have to tip your head back all the way to look up at him.

“Do you want to hear me say that I want you?” you challenge his neediness as one of his hands finds your cheek. You know exactly that’s what he wants to hear.

“Is that hard for you?” he challenges your obduracy right back, thumb softly rubbing the skin under your eye, knowing full well how hard of a time you have with sharing your feelings in the moment.

It’ll never be lost on you how there’s so little you can hide from one another. It’s comforting in the most perilous of ways.

It helps that Joe is very upfront about his wants. He’s in your living room for a reason, which makes it a little easier to admit to a truth you can no longer deny.

You wouldn’t have invited him over if you didn’t want him here.

Obviously.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside in the long-term, but in the short-term, temptation and comfort always seem to win all too easily. Hence the handfull of fabric you’re still holding.

That doesn’t meant that Joe deserves the satisfaction of hearing you say that, though.

“No.” you smile, eyes casting downwards. “But… do you want to know what is hard for me?”

Without any hesitation, you let your hand find the bulge in his jeans, and Joe flinches at the contact, his other hand immediately around your wrist to control your next move, grip tight, like he��s using it to not lose his balance.

“Don’t.”

With his eyes shut, he exhales a slow breath.

“Oh?” your eyebrows shoot up in the same way his had done earlier. “Am I wrong, then?”

Joe has to bite back a smile, and there’s a moment where you’re just staring each other down, your hand touching growing parts of Joe, and his hand keeping it right in place. It’s hard for him to look away from your eyes and the sparkle they look at him with.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside... when you haven’t really got any to begin with.

Joe’s voice comes out a little gruff when he says, “How about that shower?” all lowly, giving a slight nod up in question as he bites into his bottom lip.

The only way out seems through.

But, just before you give in all over again, something pipes up in your mind that turns you solemn. Something Joe said the night before.

“You um...” you swallow thickly and slowly remove your hand from Joe’s jeans. “You said we weren’t the best, before...”

This dance between heartfelt earnestness and teasing banter is becoming a little confusing, but, to be fair, everything about you and Joe is confusing.

Joe’s hand on your cheek is warm, and you let the words you’d just said linger. Let them speak for themselves. You haven’t asked Joe a question that needs an answer, but you wait for him to figure out what you mean all by himself.

Why should you go have a shower with Joe if he doesn’t think you’re good together? If things can’t be better than before?

“Before...” Joe repeats and then slowly lowers himself next to your chair and leans on a knee so he’s more at eye-level with you. He’s choked with tenderness for you, especially when you look like this, not unlike what you looked like when you barged into his flat a night ago. “Before, yea. But that was–...”

Then.

This is now.

Joe’s hand is still on your face, his steady touch unmoving, but now his fingers curl under your jaw and around your ear, and it burns your skin. You want to allow yourself to enjoy the gentle touch, but you can’t. Shouldn’t. Your wants are too risky.

Anxiety swells and you can feel how your fingers are searching out a bit of fabric to run along, but you’re not wearing long sleeves. It’s why your next question comes out all choppy.

“Will it b-be different?”

Your question implies a whole lot. Implies a want for something new. For something better. Something different. And, perhaps most terrifyingly, it implies a want for something together.

You think if Joe is going to be completely honest with you, he should tell you no. However, logically, you also understand there’s a current heavy throbbing in his underwear that might influence things slightly.

Still.

You want to hear his answer.

Want to know what he’s really doing here.

What his expectations are.

Joe can’t predict the future. But you desperately want him to.

“It can be.”

Instant disappointment.

In Joe, and within yourself.

It can be.

It’s the most non-committal answer Joe could’ve given. It’s guarded. Evasive. Without clear indication or attitude of feeling.

You hate it.

But then you watch as he slowly grabs hold of one of your hands and guides it to the sleeve hem of the hoodie he is wearing where your fingers immediately find home and rub to their hearts content. It’s embarrassing how your shoulders instantly relax.

Joe clears his throat, cradling your face in both of his hands now, and adds, “It should be.” which he makes sound like a promise.

It should be.

It should be because you are both older and wiser and have learnt lessons and have grown. It should be because you are new people, with old habits but with new intentions.

It should be because you really want it to be.

It should be because Joe is really going to try.

That’s all you want.

All you need.

It should be makes you whine and drop your head fully into Joe’s hold.

It should be has you accept Joe’s lips that press firmly against yours.

It should be allows you to be picked up and lead over to your bathroom where you both undress at lightning speed.

It should be has you under the stream before the water’s even fully warmed up, standing really close together, and not just because the shower’s small.

Emily’s absolutely going to kill you.

But she’s allowed.

She can murder both you and Joe together, and you’ll continue doing what you’re doing right now in whatever the afterlife even is until the end of time itself.

Time can stop, for all you care.

Joe touches you in the shower until your legs can quite literally no longer carry you, and then Joe touches you in your bed until every single cell of your body is violently shaking in pure delight.

It should be different.

It will be different.

And different starts right fucking now.

“I love you.”

Joe pants the words heavily into your skin. Into your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. Wants them to settle there and never leave. He seals them in with kisses, and repeats mumbling praise that he hopes will cling onto you for a while as well.

You’re convinced he’s just saying things because it feels right in the moment. Because he wants to prove to you that he’s right.

You lay together, bodies on top of each other, and it takes longer than feels normal to come back down from what you’ve just done. Joe holds you in place on top of him, both his hands wrapped around your arms, and when you try to move, when you try to let yourself slide off and fall onto the mattress next to him, he only further strengthens his grip.

“I love you.” He then says more clearly, and he sounds like he’s admitting it to himself just as much as he is to you. Like it’s something that he needs to hear himself articulate more than it’s something that you might need to hear.

It’s unbelievable that he’s here, right now.

He fully thought you’d be done with him by now, yet, here you are, wanting more of him. Different. Yes. But more all the same.

“Love you, love you, love you.” Joe punctuates with kisses.

Joe finds that he’s still as full of emotion for you as he was when you were still together, but there’s a huge difference in voicing it. In saying things aloud for other people to hear.

For you to hear.

“Yea,” you smile, tickled by the tone of Joe’s repeated confession, convinced you’ve pulled the words straight from his dick. “Yea you do.”

There’s no way Joe is thinking with his brain right now.

A soft scoff comes from him before he tries his best to sound like a schoolteacher as he demands, “Say it back.”

You huff a laugh to that, still feeling a little floaty and too far gone for a coherent response. All you can think about is how Joe’s still inside of you, and how he is keeping you there.

Then one of his hands lets you go, but is quickly followed by a well-aimed poke to your side that has you squirming. Joe remembers all your vulnerable spots, knows exactly where they are, fucking dick.

“Say it back! Say, I love you too, Joe.”

In your giggling, you manage to sit up a little and glare down at Joe, but you’re smiling, which completely ruins the effect, and it turns him a little soft inside. You then lean back down a little and give him a peck by his ear which serves to shut Joe up.

He decides it’s enough of an answer, close enough to an I love you said in return. He knows you do, anyway.

In your next move, you snuggle into him, cheek rubbing into his skin, and, fuck, Joe’s done for.

“Yea… yea, you love me too.”

“Shut up.” You whisper, giggles stuck in the back of your throat that you try your best to contain, ones that Joe lets out easily.

“Too bad you’re so annoying.”

“Yea.” You squeeze Joe tighter and let your teeth scrape the skin of his chest. “I’m the worst.”

There’s no phone buzzing on the bedroom floor.

There’s no other people hiding in a different room in your flat.

No... Jessicas, or whatever. No Jaspers.

You’re in the centre of your bed together, no sides picked or chosen, and the temperature inside reflects neither icy Antarctica nor the Amazon rainforest.

It should be different.

Better.

It already is.

Are you risking making the same mistakes all over again? Yes. Are you willing to still go ahead and give this a try? Also yes.

“Will you stay?” Joe quietly asks, silently and warily bringing up how vulnerable he felt when you broke it all off months ago.

You move your head to look him in the eye for a second.

“I should.” you whisper back, reassuring you in same way Joe had reassured you.

“Will you stay?” you repeat Joe’s question, but know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

One of his hands snakes around to hold you by the back of your neck.

“I will.”

the end

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @cowboymcflurry

@demonsanddemogorgons, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson

@emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

@gri959, @hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns

@keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @loves0phelia, @mandyjo8719

@mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles

@notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @pinchofhoney, @prettiestboyreid

@readergf, @royale1803, @skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac

@solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle

@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @xxladymjxx, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, apologies!

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #joe quinn fanfiction #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn x reader #rpf #almost always

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spicythistlesatdawn · 2 months ago

Text

REFERENCE THIS

CW: Adult themes. (Planning on some hot and heavy in this one) Non-Traditional A/B/O dynamics. Military inaccuracies. Medical inaccuracies. 18+ MDNI. OC x Canon Characters.

I love how, as a collective, we agree: "Ohhhh yes. Omegaverse141 is literally where it's at." I also absolutely love how as a collective essentially we've kinda agreed that yea. Alpha!GHOST and Omega!SOAP are like peak. But even better is Omega!Ghost.

Poly!Alpha Soap, Gaz, Price x Poly!Omega Ghost and Omega!reader (reader will be described as more muscular and tall)

this is gonna just be a drabble rn until my brain stops bein fried

Simon who hasn't had his heat in fuckin YEARS and just kinda didn't see a problem with it. He took his leave regardless to keep the alphas from suspecting anything, Masking came in handy for that tbh. It was too embarrassing to admit to the alphas of his pack that his father had essentially scared the omega into a sort of dormancy

Simon who tried not to be wooed by three eager alphas. Johnny's boyish fuckin charm "LT yer lookin' mighty this mornin, ach can ye help me reach the coffee tin?" Kyle's sweet little gifts that suited Simon's needs "I noticed you were out of tea, thought I'd pick yuh some up. Oh those knives are yours. Yes I got you a new mask, your old one had holes in it" and Price, he played dirty, leaving scented items in spots he knew Simon would find them and whisk them away before anyone noticed. All so terribly sweet and pushy and Fuckin hell he wanted to bite each of them, gorge himself on them and let no one else have them.

One night he caves. He caves hard because he craves love, he craves affection and the soft things his pack offers. What makes it perfect is they all decide to take leave for Price's rut. Simon's skin is buzzing for it, really it is. His pack says nothing about the fact Ghost didn't go into heat.

Hes eager, his body feels alive more than it has in ages. More often than not his alphas have him ruining his underwear with his slick.

The lack of a true heat makes it's way to the surface though. They're noticing. They're worried, yea sure stress can change up cycles but "Si when was last real heat you had?"

He's playing it off, of course. "Oi, at least I don't need birth control, shit fucks up a system worse than anythin'" "Can't remember really," "why it's not like we want a pup round 'ere anyway,"

His loving alphas though, they want him to be healthy, a delayed heat is not healthy. All that stress is bad for the heart and body and mind. So they look for solutions. Laswell mentions that maybe some time off and around civvy omegas would do Ghost some good.

A months leave. They're at Soap's apartment in Edinburgh, far enough from his family they won't be bombarded, close enough the siblings and niblings and mam can visit! It's a strange sense of normalcy that Simon hasn't allowed himself in a long time.

The pub is nice, the pub has a lot of omegas. Dainty things, overly sweet things. They're so pretty, and Ghost admires them for that. He finds comfort in watching them.

But then he scents something. Something not entirely sweet but entirely delicious. His mouth is watering, fangs actually aching. Then he spots YOU

You who looks so alive and vibrant and strong. Simon hadn't thought about pups until you and suddenly he's thinking about what you'd look like round because of the alphas. He thinks what going through a pregnancy would look like. What would being a milk nurse for your young be like?

You look so strong too, a hard worker. Like him, like his alphas. Hes nudging Johnny, pointing you out to him. Poor man is confused. "Ach Si, wuts got ye so active?" Sure Johnny sees the appeal, but he's not entirely sure what his omega is asking.

Simon doesn't even know what he's asking. The omegas he had come across before had never piqued his interest this fucking hard. He had more often than not bared his teeth at any omegas who came to up to his alphas.

Now he was here in this pub trying to urge Johnny to talk to you. Because Simon was not gentle enough, not sweet enough. Johnny however was being a idgit.

So he prodded Kyle. "The bird at the bar, wearin the tank," "Wut bout her Si?" He had never seen Simon look so shy, but oh, he loved it, though. "Pretty lovie," was all Kyle said and slipped from the booth.

You watched the lean alpha with smooth dark skin sidle up to you. Saw the claiming mark and the scent of a strong omega. You can't help how the omega part of that scent catches you, where is their Omega? How dare this beautiful man with full kissable lips sidle up to you like he doesn't have someone already.

The scowl is mean enough, coupled with sour displeasure Gaz nopes the fuck out. His Si is a burly omega and he knows those muscles aren't just for show. You work, and you work hard and even if he is an alpha, an SAS member, you could and would probably lay him out.

Aaaaaaa, the disappointment Simon feels, though, because now his instincts are latching bad. You would make such a beautiful member of the pack. LOOK AT YOU. Muscles that flex as you assess the alphas in the pub.

Oh! Oh, you're looking at him now. And he's staring, and he knows you see Kyle, who you sent scurrying back. He loves the look of realization. Appreciates the fact he wore his balaclava because you can't see the blush creeping up his neck.

You're assessing each other then. He's nudging John gently. John, who knew what was going on and didn't know whether to feel pride, concern, or maybe even jealousy. John, who dipped his head towards Simon's neck and rumbled softly, showed his possessiveness and made you and Simon pause.

You turn back to the bar, order something the men might like, whiskey or bourbon.

That makes John assess you again as you approach with the drinks. Introduce yourself. Eyes focused solely on Ghost. You're trying to catch his scent, realizing pretty quickly he can mask

Simon has to mask because Dear Jeebus your scent up close has him ruining his boxers.

You assess the others, and they're not truly paying you any mind. You don't want them to. It was becoming increasingly obvious that it was their Omega showing interest. It was their Omega that seemed inclined to woo you.

You find out their military, it tracks. The precision they move with, the way they all watch the pub. Watch you now.

They find out that you moved from America to Scotland and became a forge master. You make all kinds of things. Blades (Price makes a note of this because he wants to give his omega something nice). Knick knacks. Tools. Edinburgh is perfect because of all the clients you get in, farmers, husbands, wives, families, and workers. You also travel for conventions.

Ghost discovers you came to the pub in search of an alpha or even a beta to bully into "seeing you through your heat" he doesn't offer himself or his alphas. Even if it burns up thinking of someone else doing it. He doesn't want to offer something his alphas don't want. Price is pressing into his side though, looking at his omega and deciding they would talk very soon.

It's Johnny who gives you their numbers as they mention it's time to go. You steal their booth and watch them leave. Their scents surround you except for Ghost's. Which makes you frown because now you're wondering what could have happened that he'd need more than one self defense.

You decide to make a group chat and send a gentle hello, no longer thinking about finding another to bully into taking care of your heat.

That night, Ghost is attended by all three alphas cooing and teasing him. Telling him he's so wet and needy. "Good omega, was she a pretty bird? Did you like how she looked at yuh?" Gaz had no shame in teasing Ghost about you. Price was rather pleased there was something changing in Ghost's scent already.

Maybe Price would talk to all of his boys about taking care of you and Ghost for both of your heats. What better way to get Ghost's hormones on track than expose him to another omega in heat? Oops, he said that out loud, and now Ghost is being a loud, precious slut for them.

You and Simon (he messaged you to call him that) have been messaging quite a bit. The alphas are pleased. Their Omega is happy. Something about you has all of the men vibrating with something.

Simon has asked all of you go on a date. He wants to make his intentions known, he had talked at length with his alphas. Why he wanted to court you, let his alphas court you.

It's sweet, they understand, and this is the most forthcoming they've ever seen Simon. They love it. He loves his alphas, love the way they care for him, but he admitted something about you just... clicked. You felt like you fit in. You weren't military. You were a civvy, but you exuded strength you had talked so easily with everyone at the pub that night. It did call to all of them, not to mention you respected that they were already pack, when you spoke to them that night, you gave your respect to Price and Ghost.

Price is working with Ghost to plan a date night. He feels oddly excited. Something about his feral omega meeting another omega that has his boxers slicked is thrilling.

"Get you a pretty lil lovie. Yuh think she'll bend yuh over?" Price had never been so thoroughly mauled by Ghost during sex. Johnny and Kyle were thrilled by it.

Now to woo you

#simon ghost riley #john price #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #omega ghost #alpha price #alpha gaz #alpha soap #omega reader #i plan to make a full fic something detailed i swear #im down bad for a needy omega ghost #oooo ghost gonna get it #buff ladies need love #im only a little gay about this

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i-heart-emos · 1 year ago

Text

Life’s brighter with you around/luke castellan

authors note: In honor of my 1 year anniversary of being on tumblr yay so I thought what better than write a Luke oneshot. And also the reader is the daughter of selene the goddes of the moon cause I haven’t seen a kid of them yet on tumble

Summary:Luke’s always had nightmares ever since he can remember but that all changed when he met you

Pairing: luke castellan x Selene daughter!reader

Warning: slight angst, mentions of death, and torturing

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

Ever since Luke can remember he always had terrible nightmares. Either about his mothers death,his father leaving, Thalia being tortured. He’ll wake up in a cold sweat tears running down his face looking around rapidly. It was absolutely horrible like being trapped in an old disgusting memory but he just had to watch it happen again. No moving no screaming just watching. He made a swear to himself that if anyone he loved where to get hurt he’d sacrifice himself.

Especially when he met you. You arrived at camp when you where where 13 he had barely been there a few months when he met you. You walked threw the gates looking the best way Luke can describe like you’d been hit by a bus. A bruised eye cut lip and large cut on your side bleeding threw your shirt looking like yo I where gonna pass out. It made Luke remember everything he has to go threw to get to camp.

He remembers you coming in and almost falling from the blood loss. He immediately runs up to you getting you by the shoulders. “Hey are you ok”he asked “um not really kinda bleeding out just a little bit” oh here let me get you to the infirmary” he walked you to the infirmary in the middle of camp finally settling you down in a bed. “Chiron Chiron can somebody tell Chiron we have a new camper who needs immediate medical attention” that’s all you nheard till it faded to black. But you where patched up and woke up. Looking around frantically you spotted Luke “you your the guys who helped me” he chuckles “ yea no problem you can call me Luke castellan” he states holding out his hand “ well castellan you can call me y/n l/n” after that you and Luke had become inseparable.

Luke had spent all day trying to find your godly parent and there was no luck. Till that night you where talking to Luke about how you’ve always felt some strange connection to the moon and it’s beauty. All of a sudden a crescent moon appeared above you. He looked up shocked “you your the child of Selene the moon goddess”. You laughed “guess that explains my weird moon obsession. You where the only child at camp daughter of the moon goddess there was obviously no cabin for you. Which meant your home would be in the Hermes cabin. But that was a plus meant you could be closer to Luke.One night you where trying to sleep when you where woken up to heavy breathing.

You looked around till you pinpointed the sound. Luke’s bunk You thought. You quickly make your wait over there. He sees you and calms his breathing a bit. “Oh I’m sorry did I wake you”. “No no don’t worry are you ok bad dream”. “Oh um yea” “want me to maybe stay with you I don’t have to but if it’ll make you feel better”. “That would actually make me feel a lot better” you smile and slowly crawl into bed with him. You wake up to one of Lukes half siblings Hannah looking over you too smirking. “Hey you can’t tell anyone Hannah please” you pleaded. “Fine I’ll keep your little secret” she says she walking away. After that it became a usual thing he’d get nightmares come to your bed you’d crawl into his. And Hannah would wake you before everyone else woke. But eventually Luke got tired of hiding this.

you where so devoted to helping him he felt himself truly slipping into you more and more every day. It’s like he didn’t know what to do. “Chris it’s driving me mad I just love her so much” Chris rolls his eyes sick of hearing this every day. “ then why don’t you ask her out already she clearly likes you”. “You think she really does” he says hopeful look on his face” “man look she wakes up whenever you want doesn’t get mad you interrupt her sleep gets into literal bed with you just to make you feel better after your bad dreams I don’t know but that sounds like love to me”

“oh my Gods Chris thank you for opening my eyes I gotta” he says running away. “Hah and now I’m getting some money” Chris exclaims remembering his bet with Clarissa over who would convince the other to date each-other first.

When Luke finally finds you he’s breathing heavily. “Are you ok” “ yes Amazing actually ok here goes nothing y/n l/n I love you with all my heart I love how caring you are and how you never hesitate to help out anyone” I love hearing you talk about things you love like the stars and the moon and hearing the stories while you point at constellations”. “You’ve made my life amazing and saved me will you be my girlfriend” “oh my goodness you finally ask of course I’ll be your girlfriend idiot” you exclaim grabbing his face and kissing him”. Then you here a angry

groan in the back you both look to see clarisse stomping her feet like a child. “what clarisse sad I got her first” Luke says. “No castellan Im angry I lost my bet with Chris” she says storming off. You look at Luke and say “ten bucks there gonna date next” “ten bucks I’ll get Chris to date her next”. “ oh your so on pretty boy you say”. And then started the ongoing bets at camp half-blood. Watching the sky that night with Luke you could have sworn the moon shined just a little brighter with him around

author note: this kinda went off the rails but it’s was so fun to make and now I write for clarisse cause I found my love for her also sorry the text style changed halfway threw I switched devices

#luke castellan #fanfic #fluff #cute #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson

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harukamitsuki · 9 months ago

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Hello, I saw your tumblr pop up and I saw that you are very critical of lances character. I mean absolutely no harm and want to have just have a conversation.

I’m not going to bash you completely because that’d get absolutely no where. I understand a lot of the points you’ve made. The way Lance treats his other teammates (especially Keith and allura) are to say the least… not great.

His one sided rivalry is terrible especially because Keith really is just a kid. He’s got a lot of family issues and now he’s being hated on by some kid he doesn’t even remember/recognize. Allura is dealing with 10,000 years of guilt not being able to save her planet and especially her father. Then ofc Lance comes in and immediately flirts with her.

Neither of these are good things. However, I’d argue that it helps in largely with his growth (if the writers actually cared).

In the first episode when the trio get in trouble Iverson immediately states to Lance that he’s only here because Keith isn’t.

And considering how easily he says this it very much feels like something that’s said often to him.

I don’t think Lance just started the rivalry because he just decided to hate Keith’s guys but because he’s having to be reminded that all he is, is a “cheap replacement” in a sense.

If they (writers) explored this idea more thoroughly I feel as though it would’ve made lances character more understandable. Not better (because even tho something happens doesn’t give anyone the excuse of whatever) but more to show that he’s human.

I would’ve loved to see an apology to Keith for this but obv it never happens.

I will say he does grow more with Allura though. Yes he still flirts but considering in season 5 the scene where Lance is comforting Allura really shows a change in lance.

I feel as though he really changes but the thing is Allura treats him in the end almost as a rebound (not bashing on her or anything). She clearly is more in favor of Lotor and even kisses the hallucination of him and never tells Lance when they’re together.

Moving on, I believe you’re characterizing Lance a little too unfairly. He does not get everything on a silver patter. He gets to be a fighter pilot because he’s the only thing closest to Keith’s record. He is constantly made the joke to the point where even Veronica his older sister find out that they’re being killed because she thinks Lance is an idiot (despite actual evidence mere 5 seconds ago proving it wrong). The whole bob episode makes fun of him. The team kinda leaves him behind. Hunk who’s supposed to be his best friend rarely interacts with him and is more pidges best friend than anything. Season 5s whole thing with Kuron and Lance gets scrapped instantly.

Is Lance a flawed character? Absolutely. But he is very much not given everything. In all honesty I believe Keith is the one who is the most “spoiled” in the show.

Season 1 and 2 lovely. However when shiro dies everything kinda changes.

I understand what the writers were going with but in truth Keith is by far (in my opinion) the worst option for being the black paladin.

Yea Keith has a fucked up backstory. He didn’t want to be the black paladin. he was forced into it.

But that doesn’t mean he is the right one. When he starts he almost kills everyone. Yes he’s starting out but afterwards he doesn’t become his own leader. He just steals shiros character.

When the clone comes in he dips. Sure ita because there isn’t space anymore but considering how easy it is for him to leave is what makes me think of him as spoiled.

The others don’t get an out. If the others had to leave they couldn’t. They don’t have galra genetics that can make them a marmora. They don’t have a space mom to travel with.

They’d have to stay in the castle because there is no where else to go for them.

Keith in the other hand gets an out. He is half galra he has a mom out there in space.

We never see him interact with the others again or even think about them. He only ever thinks about shiro.

When he comes back all of a sudden everything that the paladins have been working on is flipped on their heads. Now Keith has to save the day. Kuron goes bonkers and instead of using all that build up with Lance it’s Keith.

Keith leaves the team defenseless and without Voltron to deal with Lotor.

Gives absolutely no remorse on killing Kuron and just allows shiros mind to be put into his body.

Then he doesn’t give a rats ass about shiro anymore. He never gives him the black lion back (despite that being the original reason he left in the first place)

Shiro becomes a cardboard cutout of who he used to be. And to top that off despite the buildup between shiro and sendak Keith kills him off (despite shiro not even getting injured)

Now as a shiro fan yes I am biased. But, even then this doesn’t give Keith the excuse of being a Mary sue.

The mission where Veronica calls Lance stupid is the one where he leaves the team again to do his own thing.

Despite him agreeing with the others to take off the armor their tracking to run and hide the next scene we see is all of a sudden him being the savior of the episode.

no one else gets this. especially not Lance.

Yes lance is selfish. But I’d rather watch him be the black paladin than Keith.

Because in that Lance can learn and grow. Show that yea being a leader of a team isn’t as “cool” as you think. I wouldn’t loved the paladins being mad at him and him having to actually learn to grow up and be better.

Keith being the black paladin is just him being a recycled shiro.

I wish in all honestly that we got to see the characters be more flawed. and see them ACTUALLY grow instead of being either a carbon copy of another or just completely being thrown.

I hope you see this and I’d love to see your feedback.

Okay. At first, I was really liking this ask. I agreed with a lot of your points about Lance. While I have been heavily critical of him, that's only really because of how much people adore him and are afraid to criticise him. I've already stated, in my original 'Lance bad' post, that I didn't have an issue with Lance in season 1. I liked where his character started, but it was only in later seasons that I started disliking him.

I liked that he was insecure, but there was no pay-off to it. Maybe there were a few times he was reassured by someone, whether it be Allura, Shiro, Keith or whoever, but it feels like less of a trait/flaw and more of a way for him to be comforted. There's no scene in which Lance's insecurity puts the team in actual jeopardy, which would be a great way for his character to develop and to put some actual meaning to making him insecure.

I liked that he was flirty and goofy, because the cast needed a balance between the serious characters and the comedic ones. I liked that, even though he was goofy and comedic, the staff still tried to take him seriously. (Unlike Hunk).

So, yeah. There is stuff I do like about Lance, which is why I'm still treating him as fairly as possible in my rewrite. His insecurity is alluded to early, he's actually best friends with Hunk and it's not just saying that, he at least tries to defend his friends against Iverson, he is quite protective of Pidge, and he is capable of speaking to Allura (in SEASON ONE) without flirting every ten seconds.

But. In canon? I can't stand him. You say he doesn't get everything handed to him on a silver platter, but I don't see your point being proven. Instead, you point out how he's the constant butt of a joke. In season 7 and season 8. Yes, he's made fun of, but that doesn't mean he's not spoilt?

You also say that Keith is spoilt the most, because he gets the Black Lion and 'gets an out'. I feel like you just wanted to see Lance in the Black Lion more.

You claim that Keith is the worst option. That just because he has a fucked up backstory and was forced into it, it doesn't mean he's the good option. Um. That isn't why the Black Lion chose him?? Keith was the only one who didn't have selfish reasons for entering Black. Pidge and Hunk were basically goofing around but they're mostly comfortable where they already are. Lance wanted Black for selfish reasons, to prove himself. That's fine and all but it's not what Black was looking for.

Allura and Keith are the only ones who didn't want the Black Lion for themselves. A lot of people think Allura should have been the Black Paladin, which is fine but I honestly prefer Allura in Red and Keith in Black. Keith only went into Black's cockpit because Shiro wanted him to and the universe needed a Black Paladin. He did it for selfless reasons.

Onto your next point. About how Keith led them into danger and near death when he started. Um. He's just started out? And nobody has comforted him about losing Shiro (AGAIN). Instead, we have Pidge calling him a loner, Lance accusing him of using Shiro's death for his own gain, and everyone just being overall mean and nasty to Keith, RIGHT AFTER SHIRO DIED.

Honestly, I'd love to see you try to lead a team that seems to hate you. At least Keith gets his head screwed back into place before long. And calling him a B-tech Shiro? Should I remind you of: "You want me to lead Voltron? This is how I lead!" The whole point of that was to show how different their leading is. Shiro would rather play it safe unless he's emotionally compromised like at the end of season 1. Keith would rather hold nothing back and go at it 100 percent.

Also, I seem to keep having to bring this up. When Shiro was still there but was knocked out or unavailable, guess who was the one issuing orders? Yeah, that's right. It was Keith. Keith was always the first to ask Shiro what's wrong and then issue orders until Shiro gets back. He was always meant to be the Black Paladin, it's you guys who refuse to see it. I mean, if you look at his clothes, you will very quickly notice that it's not Red's colours. Mostly black with some red, white and yellow? Hmm, that's-- Oh yeah! That's Black's colour scheme. He was always meant to be in Black.

Also saying that Keith is spoilt because he 'gets an out' is stupid. Yes, I am insulting you because that's so far from the truth? Lance could have been dropped off on Earth while Allura stays as Blue and Keith goes back to Red. Allura could have taken a step back and let Lance go back to Blue and Keith to Red and Shiro to Black. Shiro could have stayed dead like he was supposed to and let nothing change.

That first episode of season four? Voltron are doing parades. The BOM are searching for important information to take down the Galra Empire. What, did you want Keith to do the parades? Surely, the people could understand that the Black Lion is out on a mission. There's no need for all five to be there. But, no. Of course, Keith is in the wrong. Regris dies right in front of him and he nearly dies out in space and he's doing incredibly dangerous and important work. But when he gets back, surely the others will be there for him after a fellow Blade died and he nearly did? Right? Nope. They just glare at him because there was an attack nobody could have predicted.

Keith leaves and nobody stops him. Keith leaves so Lance can stay happy in Red and Allura can stay happy in Blue and Shiro can get Black back. He leaves, not because he gets an out or is spoilt. The work he's doing is arguably MORE dangerous than Voltron's work. He isn't hiding inside a Lion, he's doing all this in person.

Saying that he gets to go around on Space Whale with his mother? The same one who abandoned him? While reliving past memories such as his father's death? While having to go through future scenarios again and again, essentially dying over and over to Shiro. His brother.

The whole point of setting some stuff up between Lance and Kuron is to compare with Keith and Kuron. Keith who would have been able to hear Shiro. He would have heard Shiro be cruel and snappy and he would have been on that case immediately. He would have done everything to find out what the hell is happening.

Keith is not spoilt. Lance is not spoilt either. Yes, Lance is given mostly everything he wants, but he still suffers. It's not directly correlated to what he wants/gets, but he suffers nonetheless. Keith is the furthest from spoilt. The only time he can get to relax? Um... He doesn't. Not even in the two-year time skip on the Space Whale because he's constantly suffering from images of the past and the events of the future.

Also, it's ironic that you call Keith a carbon-copy of Shiro, even if they're completely different. Because that's what viewers want Lance to be. They never admit or outright say it, but they want it. They want him to be traumatised, kind and serious, and they want the Galra to take something from him (like, say, a limb), and they want him to struggle to rely on others. That's Shiro. They want Lance to be Shiro but Cuban.

Lance would be a horrible pick for Black Paladin. As I've said time and time again. The reasons are in a pervious post if you want to find it. I've only just woken up at the time of writing this. It's kind of funny to me that I can provide a good reponse to this while I still have sleep in my eyes and I can barely remember the multiples of seven.

If Lance was white, I wonder how many people would still love him.

#vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #character analysis #lance mcclain #vld lance #voltron lance #anti lance #anti lance mcclain #anti bp lance #anti black paladin lance #black paladin keith truther #black paladin keith #keith #vld keith #voltron keith

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volturiprincess · 9 months ago

Note

Felix volturi with a mate who is type 1 diabetic? I’m really struggling with my diabetes rn and I could use some fluff from my favorite strong man🥺

Him

Felix Volturi x Type 1 diabetic reader

A/N: I hope this gives you the fluff you need, and I hope you are doing better 🫶🏼🥺. I might not know what you are going through but I believe in you . I'll be honest Im not super familiar with this but I have some understanding (currently in school going going for a degree in the medical field actually). But enjoy 💙

(The handsome gentle giant❤️)

“Morning my little rose”

At the sound of my mate's voice, I opened my eyes slowly to be welcomed by his handsome face. He’s so beautiful. He reached a hand out to caress my cheek gently, pure heaven right there with just his touch. I love his gentleness considering how tall and muscular he is it is hard to consider him this with his status as the ‘executor’ of the Volturi, but to me he is so tender and loving.

Still feeling a bit sleepy I responded with a soft “Morning Fe”

He joined me on the bed and pulled me into his arms so my head was resting on his chest. Today was one of those days where I had no energy to do anything. I just want to lay in bed all day and sleep. I sometimes hate feeling like this, I don't like showing Felix this side of me, even if he knows about my diagnosis. I did tell him a bit of what I go through and stuff but it's a struggle sometimes.

“You're having one of those days aren't you?”

I guess he already knows. It's been about 6 months since Felix came into my life and I was told he is my mate. But I have had type 1 for about 2 years already. The only reason he found out was he came to visit me in my house when I was feeling absolutely terrible, he thought I was sick with the flu but I told him the truth. He was very understanding and Demetri told me the next day that Felix spent the whole night reading anything there is to know about how to deal and manage with type 1. And since then my love for him bloomed more.

“Yea it’s one of those days unfortunately”

“Alright well good thing the masters gave me the day off, i'll be your personal nurse today”

Looking up at him with a lopsided smile and booping his nose with my finger tip

“My handsome vampire nurse to exact”

—------------

Since that morning, Felix has helped with taking a nice bubble bath with my favorite bath bomb that smells like roses and lavender. He even made me an appropriate breakfast, he's managed to get me to enjoy eating cantaloupe over the past couple of months. He's still struggling to get me to eat a banana alone because whenever I chew that fruit I gag and there were times where I did throw up from that weird texture. But he does make me smoothies with that fruit which I do enjoy. And now he is pursuing me into going on a walk with him in the gardens

“Come on cara, if you do get tired, which I understand does happen, we will take a break and I will give you a taste of the Felix care package when you're tired, hmmm?”

To top it off he finished that line with his shark like grin that always makes me weak in the knees. It's impossible to say no to him when he mentions his care package, it includes a massage, hair stroking, and small kisses on every inch of exposed skin that I dare show.

“Fine, only because I heard that the garden was worked on recently and there are new flowers that I need to see up close but-”

“I got it here already, see?”

I looked at his other side and he had a bag which I can assume had some treats to help with the fatigue and nausea and in his hand he was holding what I can say is the biggest water bottle I have ever seen.

“What the hell Felix, where did you manage to get such a huge water bottle?”

“I have my ways amore”

He wrapped his large muscular arm around my waist and guided me to the much awaited gardens. As soon as we were close to the gardens I felt myself relax and was surrounded by the smell of different flowers. I picked up on the sweetness of jasminess, the freshness of lavender with a hint of spice which I can assume were the lilies. We walked for a while until I started to feel a bit more weak and my thirst levels increased. Felix as always picked it up and we stopped at a nearby bench that he actually carved many centuries ago. He held the water bottle for me as I drank what I felt was a whole gallon in one sip.

“Want to hear the story about his bench, amore?”

Not wanting to speak or nod my head from the slowly approaching headache, I gave him a thumbs up that was received by a small smile from him

“Well I told you some bits of my gladiator days from what I can remember until Aro found me and turned me in. I picked up a hobby soon after I was turned. I always thought the arts were a fascinating topic, and with Master Caius' influence, I focused on sculpting. My first couple of attempts were not ... .good” he smiled with an embarrassed look “ With my state of being more abnormally stronger as a newborn handling small tools in my large hands to carve ... .well you can already guess my issue. With this bench it took many attempts to master, I would switch between a variety of chiseling tools until I noticed just using my hands worked best, so I actually built this with my bare hands, I wanted to add a bit of architecture inspiration from the Colosseum, which is why the legs of this are like that.”

The way he explained his story was so adorable, some of the things I picked up about Felix is when he talks about something he is passionate about he gets a twinkle in his eyes. He smiles more than he already does but the way he explains things he went through makes me feel like I was there with him as the events happened. I soon noticed after his story my headache was gone.

“Fe, can I tell you something?”

“Always my little rose”

“I don't tell you this enough but I really do appreciate you, I love that you are in my life, I thought I would become a burden to you but with you, you make me feel so special and loved, I love you my handsome giant”

I never said the L word to him so this was a first for him to hear.

“Oh cara, I think I just fell in love with you all over again, just hearing you say that makes my undead heart flip, with you I feel complete with as what is left my humanity, I love you mi amore”

Damn that giant, some small tears of happiness rolled down my cheeks which he wiped away with his thumb. He leaned in and placed a light kiss on my forehead that can speak thousands of words.

#felix volturi #the volturi #felix volturi imagine #felix volturi x reader #volturi fanfiction #volturi #felix the handsome giant

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imfinereallyy · 2 years ago

Text

Is this okay?

tw: discussions of panic attacks, discussions sa (nothing graphic or very far, and no assualt happens with steddie), and implied sexual coercion.

Steve knew there was never a good time to have a panic attack.

But this most definitely felt like the absolute worst time.

He was having sex with a girl. He had to clarify that to Robin when he told her he was going on a date; he hadn't gotten the nerve to do the “sex with a guy” thing yet. So he went with what he knew. Besides, there was only one guy Steve really wanted.

But he was having sex with a girl, a girl named Linda, who had given him her number at a diner across town where she worked. Steve had thought she was nice, pretty. Very all-American with her blonde hair, blue eyes and perfectly straight teeth. No matter how pretty she was though, Steve didn’t really feel much for her.

He felt terrible about that. Steve felt like he had wasted her time. He didn’t want Linda to feel that way, so he wanted to ensure she got something out of the date. So when they had finished milkshakes at a different diner than the one she worked at (yea he hadn’t put much thought into the date), he agreed to go back to her place.

He really shouldn’t have agreed to go back to her place.

In retrospect, Steve knew it was wrong to have sex with Linda. Not because having sex on the first date was bad, but because he shouldn't have sex with someone just because he felt bad. Steve imagines if one of the kids did that, or if Robin did that, he would lose his mind. He would be so upset, not with them, but with whomever they felt pressure to do it with. It’s just hard for him to apply to himself.

Guess that’s what valuing yourself for only sex at a young would do to you. King Steve, he could hear them say.

He had ignored his instincts, though, and went back to her place anyway.

It had started fine; it really had. Steve went down on her, wanting to make her feel good. That was the whole point. Steve was excited about that part. But then it came to sealing the deal. Linda wanted him naked, of course. But Steve couldn’t bring himself to take off his shirt. Even months later, he was insecure about the new scars on his body. Steve told Linda he wanted to keep it on.

She had been okay with it at first.

It’s when they were in the middle of it, sweaty bodies colliding with each other, that it happens.

Linda's hands snuck up his shirt, and Steve completely freezes. Steve just full stops in the middle of sex.

“Why did you stop?” Linda asked, exasperated like Steve was annoying her.

“I—just. Your hands.” Steve choked out.

“You’re upset? With my hands under your shirt? Seriously?”

“I—“ Steve felt the pressure begin to build up in his chest. Something was definitely wrong, right on the edge of overflowing.

“Sorry, I guess. Probably better off anyway. I don’t know what happened under there, but it didn’t feel good. Can’t imagine it’s pretty. Can we just get back into it?” Linda tried to pull Steve down for a kiss, but he yanked his head away from her.

Steve was suddenly hyper-aware of everything on his skin. Every stretch, every pull, every lump. Steve swallowed the dry lump in his throat as he tried to calm his breath.

Linda didn’t seem to notice. “C’mon, Steve. I thought I was getting the King out of this. I’ve heard the rumors. I may have graduated the year before you, but even I know how good you make girls feel in bed.” Steve felt dirty. Used. This wasn’t what sex was supposed to be like. Not unless he wanted it like that, and today he had most definitely not wanted that. His breath was coming out in short pants. His hands were sweating. Linda continued, “You’re acting like a freak right now. God. This was such a waste of time.”

Steve was up in an instant, scrambling to get all of his clothes on. He wanted out. Out of this bed. Out of this apartment. Out of his head.

Steve thought that maybe Linda had said something to him on his way out, something that his subconscious must have picked up because he could feel the tears down his face in reaction to her voice. Steve ran out the door, ignoring her.

The rest was kind of a blur.

One second, Steve was throwing himself inside his car, trying to choke himself on his own breath. The next, he was flying down Main Street, with only the flashes of street lights as a reminder to his brain that he was moving.

Then, suddenly, Steve was banging on the metal door of a trailer.

When did he get here? Who’s door is this? What time was it? God, where were his shoes?

Steve leaned his head against the cool metal, as he tried to ground himself. It wasn’t working. He could feel reality slipping from him. He just wanted to fucking breathe.

The trailer door opened just when Steve was contemplating banging his head against it. Steve fell forward, his weight had been entirely against the door, he stumbled slightly before catching himself on the frame.

“Steve?” He heard a confused familiar voice.

Oh thank god, it was Eddie. Eddie would help him. Eddie would know what to do.

“Eddie I—I”

“Stevie, what? What’a wrong?” Steve could see Eddie’s sleepy fast morph into concern. Steve felt bad, probably woke him up. He knew Eddie didn’t get much sleep nowadays. Steve needed to tell him he was sorry.

All that came out, though, was, “I—I can’t breathe.”

Steve hunched over, slamming himself into one side of the frame. Eddie moved to catch him, but hovers his hands instead. Steve saw panic flash across his face.

Steve really needed to say sorry.

He didn’t get to, though, because suddenly Eddie asked, “Can I touch you?”

It shouldn’t have broken him, something as simple as that. It was a simple question. A courtesy, a common fucking decency. Some people didn’t like to be touched during panic attacks, and Steve now understood what was happening, and Eddie was just being kind. It shouldn’t have broken him.

But it did. Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone asked what he had wanted. Especially tonight.

Suddenly Steve was sobbing, throwing himself into Eddie’s awaiting arms. Eddie shushed him softly and brought him inside. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry. It may be scary now, but it’ll be okay.”

Eddie walked them to the couch, shutting the fire gently behind them. Eddie laid Steve’s head on his shoulder and gently rocked them back and forth for awhile. Eddie whispered sweet nothing in his ears as Steve loudly wept.

Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time his cries quieted. He pulled back to look at Eddie and rubbed furiously at his eyes. Steve felt the panic still stewing in his chest, but most of it had spilled out.

Eddie brushed a hair behind his ear, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve hesitated. He was scared of how Eddie would react. Would he call him dramatic? Would he say that both Linda and he were using each other? That he should be glad that he was getting laid? That someone liked him enough to look past the scars? Steve knew in his heart, though, that Eddie was safe. No matter what Steve said, Eddie would at least try to understand.

“Promise not to be mad?”

“I can promise to not be mad at you. Whatever that made you upset could be a different story. But I promise you sweetheart, I’ll never be mad at you for having feelings.” Eddie grabbed his hand and squeezed it in encouragement.

Steve took a deep breath before speaking. “I was on a date—“ Eddie had a flash of some emotion that Steve couldn’t process entirely at the moment, and it was gone before he could say something. “—And the girl I was with, she was nice. She was pretty. She should be what I want.”

Eddie nodded in encouragement. Steve pushed on. “But the date wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad, not really, just nothing special. It was on me, I didn’t even try. Not really. And I felt so bad that she wasn’t getting much out of it.”

“So you panicked because of a bad—sorry mediocre date? Steve, it’s okay. You don’t owe her anything.” Eddie didn’t sound angry or judgmental. He sounded concerned, if anything. His tone was gentle and warm; Steve didn’t want that to change.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Steve, I promised you I wouldn’t be.” Again, Eddie’s tone was gentle.

“I felt bad, ya know? I should make the date better. Give her something. So when she asked me to her place, I didn’t say no, and I know I should have said no. But she was nice initially, and I didn’t want to upset her. So I went upstairs—“ Steve started to rush out his words, the panic building up again “—and it was fun at first. I gave oral; I liked that part; I always like making my partners feel good. But then she wanted to have sex, and I—I wanted to keep my shirt on. My scars they—they still feel like they're fresh some days. And I didn’t want to deal with them. And she was good about it at first, I swear! But then she put her hands up my shirt, and I just couldn’t do it. I just, god, Eddie, I just froze. And she was so upset with me. Talked about how she expected better from me. How this wasn’t King Steve. How she was happy, the shirt was on because what was underneath didn’t feel good and…” Steve trailed off.

Eddie looked furious. There was a quiet rage that seeped through his breaths. His shoulders were rigid. Even so, his grip never turned harsh. It never caused Steve pain.

“I’m sorry.” Steve whispered.

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry Steve. It’s okay. Continue if you like.” Eddie choked out but sounded sincere.

Steve looked directly into his eyes for a moment before deciding to continue. “I was panicking. I couldn’t breathe, Eddie. And she still…she still wanted to continue. Like, pretend I wasn’t about to have a psychotic break. And I just felt like this thing. Like I was an object to be used and discarded, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t stay there. I just left. And I probably freaked her out and gave her the worst night of her life, and I—“

Eddie cut him off by bring his hands to Steve’s face and gently brushed his tears away. “Ssshh, you didn’t—you didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?”

Steve nodded furiously unable to speak.

Eddie held eye contact as he spoke. “I want you to listen to me alright? I got a couple of things to say but I need you to tell me if it’s too much? This is not about me. You won’t hurt my feelings. Okay?

Steve nodded again.

“Honey, I need you to say it.”

“Okay.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath. He didn’t let go of Steve’s face, gently cradled it as he began again. “First off, I am not mad at you. You did nothing wrong. Nothing Steve. I’m mad at her. She—She doesn’t get to touch you like that. Not if you don’t want her to. Even if you didn’t say it, you were clearly not enjoying yourself. And she didn’t care. She disregarded your feelings multiple times and even made fun of you, and guilted you into doing more than you’re comfortable with. I know it’s difficult to hear, but what she did was assault.”

Steve tried to protest, “I consented. I did that because I wanted to—”

Eddie cut him off but wasn't unkind in doing so. “Steve. If you felt guilty for not wanting to do anything with her, so you did something anyway to make her feel better, that isn’t consent. But I can’t label it for you. If you feel otherwise, it’s not my place to tell you. I’m here for you either way. But I’m going to tell you something. Not the whole thing, not right now. Maybe another day. This isn’t about me, though. I just think you might need to hear it.”

Steve nodded again.

Eddie slid his hands down to Steve’s hips like it was his turn to ground himself. Steve didn’t mind. “A couple of years ago, I was in my first relationship. I’m gay, as you know, so being open wasn’t really an option. No one could tell me right from wrong because no one knew. I lost my virginity to this guy; he was a couple of years older. I definitely knew what he was doing even though I didn’t. We had sex all the time. But one day, I wasn’t in the mood. It happens. But…but he made me feel so guilty about it. Like I had hurt him, told him he was the problem. Like there was a problem at all, like I didn’t simply want to have sex, he has made it about me having internalized homophobia, about how I didn’t really love him, how I was selfish. So I caved. I had sex with him anyway. And then I went home that night. Went back to the trailer, only to find Wayne had the rare night off that night. When I saw him, I burst into tears and told him what had happened. He hadn’t even known I was gay. He didn’t care, though, about any of it. But he had to explain to me that it didn’t matter what gender it was; if I didn’t want to have sex, that was up to me that I didn’t need to prove anything. And that anyone who said otherwise didn’t actually care about me.”

Steve was no longer in a panic, but his tears didn’t stop. He was so, so sad. Sad for Eddie. For himself.

“How do you feel now? About it all?” Steve spoke for the first time in ten minutes.

Eddie shrugged. He squeezed Steve’s hips. “Good some days. Bad others. Better overall. I’ll never be completely over it. I know that, but I—I have good things now to help me through it.” Eddie pointedly looked at Steve, a soft smile on his face.

Steve thought about saying sorry to him. That he was sorry that ever happened, but he knew that, like himself, Eddie wouldn’t want that. So Steve settled on the truth. “I don’t know what to call it. I think—I know I didn’t like it. And I know it hurt even if it wasn’t physical. I still feel like I did something wrong. Even if I know I didn’t. I’m worried I’ll change my mind and that I’ll be wrong.”

Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “You can always change your mind about this, but you’ll never be wrong. You will not be wrong about your feelings.”

“Okay.”

“I think we should talk more about this, but you’ve had a long night. Do you want to stay tonight? I can stay on the couch; you can have my bed. I don’t really want you too far. You scared me a bit today—which again isn’t your fault. But if you’re okay with it, I want to be here to help.”

Steve swallowed another dry lump. The emotion this time was good. Overwhelmed with the care Eddie was giving him, he responded “You don’t have to stay on the couch. We can share.”

Eddie tensed, “Steve, don’t offer just cause I might be uncomfortable.”

Steve soothed a hand down Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. I would like it, if, ya know, you stayed with me. Just lay next to me. If that’s alright with you.”

Eddie smiled softly, “Only if you’re sure it’s okay.”

They get ready for bed after that. Eddie, already in pj’s, handed Steve an old Metallica shirt with holes in it and plaid pants. He changed in the bathroom despite having undressed in front of Eddie before. Steve wasn’t sure he was ready to be naked in front of another person yet.

After a few minutes, Eddie and Steve got comfortable in bed. Hair splayed out in the pillows and cozy under the covers, both boys just stared at the ceiling. “Would you…would you touch me, Eddie? Just…just need to know you’re there.” Steve felt silly saying it; he could see Eddie right there. He wasn’t making much sense.

Eddie seemed to get it, though. “Of course, baby.” He shifted to his side and moved Steve along with him until they were spooning. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him flush against his chest.

Steve could feel Eddie’s hot breath against his neck. In any other scenario with him, it might have been a charged moment. Now it was different. Better even. It was solace.

“Is this okay?” Eddie whispered into the dark room.

Steve thought about his night. How awful it was, how it probably would get worse before it got better. That he had a lot to work on, but there in the bed where Eddie held him tightly, safely, Steve couldn’t help but feel relief. He knew this was the place he needed to be. No matter how bad the day went, Eddie would support him. Love him.

“Yea, it’s okay.”

———

this was heavy and very personal. It honestly did start off as a panic attack fic but as usual I spiraled. This one though like spiraled in a different way then usual. It felt like something I needed to get out. I know probably three people will read it and no one will probably enjoy it, but it felt good to write it. I think I might write an extended version part on ao3, there were parts in it that felt rush or could have been more.

this again felt more personal (even though my fics are always at least a little personal) so be kind.

If you, a friend or family member may have experienced something like the content of this story please feel free to reach out. Whether that be to me, a friend, or a helpline. My inbox is always open. Be kind to yourself and others 🧡

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