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mead-iocre · 7 months

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Our New Normal Pt. 3 | Leah Williamson x Reader

Our New Normal 3/4 (pt.1) (pt.2)

Ding.

The ding of the elevator interrupts your train of thought. The closer you are to her flat, the more nervous you are about the inevitable. You had to tell her tonight. You had to tell Leah that you are transferring to Arsenal. This was the first time you had ever kept something so important from your best friend. The guilt was nearly eating you up inside and while you were nervous about how she might react to your news, you were ready to get rid of the weight baring down on your shoulders during the past couple of weeks.

You are gently pulled out of the elevator by the blonde, one of your hands tightly clasped in hers. You and Leah walk the short journey to her front door, the warm sensor lights illuminating the way as you walk further down the familiar hallway. It’s hard to ignore the way your steps are synchronised, a reminder of how easy and effortless it feels like to be with the Arsenal defender.

But that could all change after tonight.

You begin to tug your hand out of hers so she can grab her house key, but she tightens her grip. Instead, Leah uses the hand that was pulling your luggage to fish out her key from the pocket of her trousers to unlock the front door. Your hand was safely intertwined in hers the entire time. This was normal. While Leah has always been an affectionate person, especially with you, you had a feeling that this was more than that. You had no doubt that the blonde can probably sense the change in your mood– she could read your cues and signals better than anyone. Leah could probably tell that you are pulling away from her, even if she doesn’t know the reason why, and she was stopping you from doing so. Literally.

——————————————

You never realised how much you detested coats and jackets, but now you have come to the realisation that they weren’t your favourite thing. First of all, some coats on the market aren’t insulated enough to keep you warm, and it can be very hard to find the perfect coat without spending so much money. Secondly, having a coat on meant that you have no choice but to let go of Leah’s hand in order to slip off your coat. Once your hand left hers, you immediately miss the comfort it provided. Not only were you enjoying the feeling of her hand in hers, but it gave you something to focus on instead of the onslaught of worrying thoughts that have begun to fill your mind. Every insecurity, doubt and uncertainty about how this night was going to go were now on the forefront of your mind.

“Right. I’m gonna order a takeaway” Leah walks over to switch the lights on, and her entire flat comes to life. She drops her keys onto the porcelain trinket tray that you had bought for her and wanders further into her flat. Leah has a tendency to misplace her keys, so you suggested setting up a designated place where she can leave her keys and so far there haven’t been any incidents. Yet.

You follow in behind her, slipping your feet into a pair of shearling slippers that the blonde had bought for you a few months ago. They were terribly overpriced, thanks to the iconic “H” cut-out that proudly boasts the luxury designer, but you couldn’t refuse her very expensive gift when she had excitedly pulled out a matching pair for herself.

Walking straight into the lounge, you spot the merinos wool throw blanket that you had bought and left at her house. It was also a very expensive purchase, and not one you would usually make, but you justified it by saying it’s for both of you. You and Leah would nestle underneath the blanket together whenever you were watching trashy tv shows on her sofa. By the corner of the window, you see the Kentia Palm plant, nestled in a ceramic plant pot, that you routinely nag the blonde to mist regularly. The bookshelf across the sofa proudly displays frame photographs of the most special people in Leah’s life. Some with family, some with friends, and some with you. There were pictures from your early years at England camp, playing for the youth teams. There were also photos outside of football, photos that never made the instagram feed and were only just for your eyes.

There are remnants of you all over her home.

After delivering your luggage to the guest room, she walks over to you and cups your rosy cheeks in her hands. “Put something comfy on and warm up, baby.”

It wasn’t long before you and Leah were seated at the table, a selection of all of your favourite Chinese takeaway dishes spread out in front of you. The aroma of sweet and sour chicken wafted through the air, mingling with the savoury scent of beef and broccoli; crispy spring rolls beckoned from their perch on a porcelain plate, making it almost difficult to choose which dish to taste first. Without further hesitation, the both of you began to tuck in. Together, you both sampled each dish with gusto, comfortable conversation and shared laughter filled the usual silence of the defender’s flat. Leah animatedly told a story about the time Kyra pranked a few of the girls on the team by hiding their boots and shin pads around the training grounds and sending them on a wild goose chase to find them.

As the meal drew to a close, you both leaned back in your chairs, sated and content. Now was probably the right time to tell the Arsenal defender about your transfer. You put your chopsticks down and turn your gaze at your best friend.

“Leah, can we talk…”

“Sounds serious.” Leah puts her own pair of chopsticks down on top of her napkin before she pushes her plate to the side. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I-it’s nothing bad. At least I hope not for you”

Leah leans forward in her seat. There’s a small smile on her face, but her eyebrows are furrowed slightly in concern. “You’re making me nervous, baby”

“I wanted to talk to you about my transfer…”

“Look, y/n.”

A brief pause of silence.

Leah takes a deep breath before continuing “I want you to know that I wouldn’t be mad if you signed for Chelsea. Honestly. It is still fucking weird to think about it though and I’m seriously considering knocking you on the head a few times– but if they had put down an offer and you want it then go for it.”

“That’s great, Lee, but-“

The blonde runs a hand through her hair in frustration, a habit she must’ve picked up from being around you so often. “I still can’t believe Arsenal didn’t put down an offer– I mean, you’re one of the best midfielders in the world right now. Seriously.”

“Lee–“

“Although it’s a bit weird that you would still consider playing for my rival club, like among all the wsl teams out there, you chose the club that happened to my club’s direct rival– wait does that mean we’re rivals now–”

“LEAH”

“WHAT”

“I signed for Arsenal”

One breath in, one breath out.

Two beats of your pulse.

“…fuck off.”

“Leah!”

“Don’t fucking joke about that” You wince at the sound of her chair scrapping against the hardwood floors as the blonde abruptly stands up. Her hands on her hips, face flushed red in anger. Annoyance even, perhaps. Her lips are pressed together firmly and her eyebrows are still furrowed.

“I’m not fucking joking. I signed for Arsenal”

Silence.

Two more beats of your pulse.

“Y/N listen to me– my heart is up to my fucking ears right now, and I swear to bloody god if you are saying all this just to have a laugh–“

The blonde in front of you begins to gesture wildly, hands pointing here and there but her posture remains stiff. A flicker of uncertainty danced across her gaze, mirroring the storm of thoughts that were probably racing through her mind at this very moment. The slight tremor in her hands betrayed the internal struggle as she sought to manage the anxiety probably bubbling within.

Every so often, Leah’s lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but it was as if the words remained trapped in the hesitancy of the moment. A subtle, rhythmic tapping of her foot on the floor betrayed the restlessness, a visual of the nervous anticipation coursing through her veins. You hear an audible hitch in her next inhale

and then silence again.

You give into the silence for a moment. Your own hands are trembling and your heart was pounding but you want to give the girl in front of you the time to process it. It takes a lot to leave Leah Williamson speechless, and if it were a different situation you would’ve teased and bragged about how you had been the one to leave her completely speechless.

But now was not the time to joke around.

After another moment of silence, you could not take it anymore. The quiet was almost suffocating at this point, when it reality it had probably only been a few minutes.

You expected the blonde to be happy– to be jumping for joy over the fact that the two of you will now be teammates for country and club. However, the lack of reaction was making you second guess your decision to sign for her club.

“Leah…” You start, but then stop yourself. You hate seeing the uncertainty in her gaze. You hate the way the defender in front of you is hunched over slightly, almost as if she was trying to make herself smaller, seeking a shield against the external world that seemed to loom large around her.

You take a deep breath and start again. “I’m not lying. I did sign for Arsenal. I wouldn’t lie to you–“

You wanted to explain things to her but she cut you off.

“You made me think you were leaving me” Hearing those words leave her lips nearly broke you.

Your chair rattles at the sheer force of how quickly you stood up to level her stare. “I– I know, Lee, but I wanted to surprise you”

“For weeks I was stressin’ about where you would be moving to. I was trying to calculate how far Lyon was from London– I was fucking looking up plane tickets, trying to figure out when I can come visit–“

You wanted to run. Like you normally would. You hated seeing the look on your best friend’s face. A face so familiar that it became a source of solace and comfort during your time of need. Now, however, the face looking back at you was filled with disappointment and distrust.

If it were some other time, you would be out of that room. You hated confrontation. You hated the feeling of being forced to say what you feel on the spot because the thought of accidentally blurting something horrible out in the heat of the moment terrified you.

But you weren’t going to run this time. Not when Leah was being vulnerable and honest. Your usually strong and capable defender looked like she was the one that needed defending right now. But how were you going to do that when the one thing that was hurting her right now

…was you.

“I’m sorry, Leah. I really am” Your hands were trembling. You felt like you were losing her, and yet she was never even yours to begin with.

You close your eyes, taking a moment to will your heart to stop pounding so hard. “I would’ve told you earlier– honestly. But then I started to have second thoughts– I mean I started to worry about–“

The next words were stuck in your throat. Tears had started to well up in your eyes, and the soon enough your vision of the blonde in front of you was drowned out by tears. You hastily start wiping away your tears when you feel another hand reach out to grab hold of your arm. A warm thumb gently glides across the span of your cheeks, brushing your tears away lightly.

“Don’t cry. I can’t stay mad at you if you cry” It was said in a hushed murmur. Like she had just divulged in a secret, in a confession.

You push her arm away slightly. She was standing a little too close. Close enough that you could fall into her and she would catch you. But you wanted to explain things before you gave into the urge to run away like always.

“I really didn’t mean to lie to you. I swear, Leah. I was worried that you wouldn’t like me being around you to much–”

An eyebrow raise from the blonde was her only reply. Leah had expressed to you multiple times that she wanted you at Arsenal in passing over the years, but you couldn’t help the small nagging doubt that clouded your mind once in a while.

Leah chooses to remain silent for the most part. In the many years that she has known you, this is the first time she has ever seen you lay all your cards out right in front of her, so there was no chance in bloody hell that she was going to interrupt you. Leah often joked that you were the master of avoidance. Whenever a difficult conversation loomed on the horizon, you would flee from the confrontation rather than face it head-on. It wasn't that you were afraid of conflict, but rather that you found it easier to run away than to confront the issue at hand.

She had gotten used to your flighty responses every time you argued, so this change was a surprise to her.

And she was so proud of you.

Her usually reserved and collected girl was pouring her heart out, and she was more than ready to piece it back together again– once you were done speaking, of course.

A lock of your hair falls in front of your face but before you can reach up to push it away, Leah does it for you. Her touch was feather-light as she tucks your hair behind your ear. This was normal. It was a simple act, one she had done countless of times before, but each time it felt like a reaffirmation of the unspoken intimacy between the two of you.

You grab her hand before it can fall back to her side. You need something to steady you as your world falls on its axis, and Leah was your anchor. She gives your hand a squeeze, taking a step closer to you.

Gone were the piercing blues earlier, instead they were now replaced by a softer, warmer look. She gives your hand another squeeze when she notices your slightly dazed expression. “Continue, baby”

The familiar nickname gives you butterflies. Like it always does.

“I was beginning to second guess my transfer because I was scared that us being around each other so much would ruin our friendship. Y-you know that saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder? Yeah, well what happens if we see each other too much? I-if there is no absence–”

“Baby, what the fuck are you on about”

“That saying that–“

“I don’t give a fuck what a saying says” She air-quotes with her fingers. “I want you with me all the time.”

The defender squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, trying to suppress the urge to simultaneously yell out in frustration and laugh. Not at you, but at your absurd idea that she would grow tired of you. She finds that idea laughable.

“Y/N, listen to me. I was upset because I wanted to be there for you. We did almost everything together. Remember when we signed our first professional contract, we did it together–”

You cut her off. “Actually you signed yours first. Mine was a couple days after because the mens team had a match at Old Trafford”

The familiar, unimpressed look the blonde gave you had you fighting to a grin. Maybe everything will be alright.

“I saw the comments when you announced your transfer. I saw the fucking nasty ones too, about how you were selfish for leaving United, and I wanted to be there for you every step of the way. To protect you from all that”

“You can’t protect me from everything, Lee”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t fucking try”

Leah takes a deep breath before focusing her gaze at you again. Her voice was quieter this time, timid. “I just feel like you’ve essentially shunned me from such a big step of your career. Like this is your first club transfer and I wasn’t a part of it in any way– not that I think I deserve to be because it’s your career but like– fuck we usually did everything together ya know..”

“I know I probably sound so selfish right now, y/n, but I felt like you didn’t want me to be a part of that. I felt like you were pulling away from me”

You frown. You were so focused of keeping this entire transfer surprise away from Leah that you did not expect her to feel left out in the process. Maybe you should’ve been more attentive. Whenever Leah would ask about your transfer, you would brush off her questions and quickly change the subject. You didn’t think that by doing so, you were making her feel like you didn’t care about her feelings.

“I’m sorry, Leah. I didn’t think that by keeping this away from you, I was pushing you away. I was just so focused on surprising you…”

“S’alright. I do feel like I’m overstepping–“

“No. You have every right to feel this way, Lee. You’re a huge part of my life and you’re right– we do everything together”

“Yeah. Well it seems like we’ll be doing a lot of things together from now on” Her tone was now light, and playful.

Leah finally breaks the looming tension with a smile, but not just any smile. She’s smiling the kind of smile that she only reserves just for you. With her lips curved in a tender crescent, her smile held the promise of a thousand intimate secrets, like the ones shared and whispered at 2 am in the morning during England camp. Her blue eyes, now alight with affection and warmth, drawing you into their depths like a moth to a flame. It wasn't just the physicality of her smile that captivated you—it was the way it spoke volumes without uttering a single word. It was the silent reassurance it offered whenever she knew you needed it.

In Leah’s smile, you found solace, understanding, and an unwavering sense of home.

“We’ll see how we get on when we’re together 24/7” You mutter, still not fully convinced.

“Baby, listen to me” The blonde cups your face in her hands, lightly stroking your cheek with her thumb. “Quit being such a worrywart. Yeah, we’ll probably get on each other’s nerves. That’s normal. I’ll do things that’ll piss you off, you’ll tell me to go ‘fuck myself’ and vice versa. We’ll still disagree on things– like how you’ll probably nag me about forgetting my boots at training, or how I’ll have to remind you about refilling the petrol in the car because I have an irrational fear of you being stranded somewhere with no petrol”

Leah waits a moment, wanting you to process what she just said. Her gaze firm, unwavering. When she notices your eyes start to water again, she knows it’s not because you’re sad or angry. She knows you’re just overwhelmed. She pulls you close, and tucks your face into the crook of her neck. With your tears wet against her neck and your arms hanging limp by your side, she can almost feel your exhaustion– both from the events of day and the emotional rollercoaster you both had to endure today.

You welcome her embrace, wanting to bury yourself in the safety and comfort of her arms. She faintly smells like her favourite perfume, delicate notes of jasmine and cedar wood still cling to a warm spot on the side of her neck. You nestle further into her.

"That's normal, baby. Otherwise relationships and friendships would be far too easy, too boring. But we will always work it out in the end. That's how we work. You run, I follow. I get angry, you calm me down. That's us. And that won't change just because we see each other more often. I promise"

After another minute of silence, Leah pulls back slightly. She gently grabs your face out from where it was buried in her neck, so you could meet eye to eye again. She frowns at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks, and uses her thumbs to wipe away the lingering tracks of moisture that streaked down your cheeks.

“Enough tears” She mutters, bringing your face close and resting her forehead against yours. A whispered secret only meant for the two of you. “You’re breaking my heart, baby”

She presses a kiss on your forehead, her lips soft and warm against your skin. “Do you understand what I said earlier? About not being a worrywart?” “m’not a worrywart” The blonde chuckles at the pout that you give her. Your eyes are still glassy, the tip of your nose red, and your hair was a mess, but to her you were the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. Bloody adorable too.

You poke her playfully on her side, giggling when she jerks away and narrows her eyes at you, but her lips are already curled upwards.

“I understand, Lee.”

The next thing you know the blonde has wrapped her arms around you waist, lifting you up and leaving your feet dangling in midair. You squeal and quickly move to wrap your arms around her neck tightly. You knew she wouldn’t drop you. You trusted her more than anyone else in the world. You were just looking for an excuse to hold her close. You laugh by her ear as she spins the both of you around a few times, excited cheers and whoops replace the tense silence earlier.

When she stops spinning and your feet are planted firmly back on the ground again, you both stand there grinning at each other before she breaks the moment.

“You’re now a Gunner.” “Woahhh hang on a minute– ” Placing both of your hands on the blonde’s chest, you push her away lightly. You are also hyperaware of her hands that are still resting on your hips, a thumb hooked onto one of your jean’s belt hoop.

Ignoring the pounding of your heart from Leah spinning you around just a second ago, and now from the mere proximity of her, you narrow your eyes at her.

“Lee, that actually gave me the ick. Don’t call me that” You groan, but your whining falls deaf to her ears.

“Y/L/N is now a bloody fucking Gunner” She practically screams at your face, her smile growing at your less-than-enthusiastic face.

The blonde then abruptly pauses her celebrations “Bet your spurs fan dad wasn’t too happy”

“Oh he was fumin’” Leah laughs loudly at that. She and your dad often butted heads, especially during derby days when the mens team were playing against each other. They would purposely rile each other up and taunts would be thrown throughout the match, but it was all in good fun. Leah didn’t know it, but your dad would secretly root for Arsenal when she was on the pitch. When you called him out for it, he said he was “cheering for Leah, not Arsenal.” Yeah right.

In the moody lighting of Leah’s kitchen, shadows dance across the walls like silent spectres, lucky to have been granted a peek into what seems to be the beginning of a new chapter– not just for you– but for Leah as well.

Leah, who had been by your side for many, many years. Leah who has been your friend, your confidant, and your lifeline.

“…so we’re actually going to be teammates at Arsenal, huh?”

In the corners of this kitchen, shadows linger like forgotten whispers. The soft glow of the pendant ceiling light that you had given her as a house-warming gift hangs above the dining table, casting a gentle hue over the both of you. The flickering flames of the candles that decorate the table dance across the room like fireflies in the night.

“It appears that way”

It’s hard to ignore the way shadows dance across her cheeks, the soft light tracing the contours of her jawline and the arch of her brows. Her eyes, darker than usual in the dimness, glimmer. The faint light catches the sparkle in her eyes, leaving you almost breathless from the intensity of her gaze.

She takes a step closer to you, until you could almost feel her breath as it fans across your face.

“And we’re going to be seeing each other a lot”

She reaches out to take your hand in hers.

“Yep. At training, recovery, meal times, team meetings…”

Your eyes are drawn to the way her tongue peeks out to wet her bottom lip. A nervous habit of hers that you have become familiar with over the years. Her lips part slightly, catching the light in a soft gleam, their natural colour deepened. She cranes her neck down slightly, forcing your gaze away from her lips and back to meet her eyes. If she noticed you staring at her lips, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, with her voice barely above a whisper, she began to speak.

“Move in with me”

For a brief moment, it was just silence as you both take in what this means for the both of you. This kitchen became a place of quiet refuge from the outside world. Here, you told your best friend and the woman who has somehow crammed her way into your heart that your lives will change.

You were not only going to be teammates who only saw each other during national duty camp, but now your lives will be intertwined even further. Here, amidst the flickering shadows and muted glow of her kitchen, time seems to stand still. Tonight, you will bask in these moments of intimacy and secrets that are only meant for the two of you, before the rest of the world found out.

“Yes.”

The much much-awaited chapter was worth it. Hopefully I met all your expectations (if you had any lol). It was a bit angsty-ish but I hope the ending made it worth it considering I was thinking about leaving it on a cliffhanger

but I'm not that evil.

Here's to breaking more glass ceilings. Happy International Women's day, my loves!

-- kisses, butter.

#woso #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #leah williamson imagine #Our New Normal fic

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icallhimjoey · 6 months

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Explain Us

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: So, more than flatmates... but, what exactly? Would be fantastic if you would just, you know, talk about it. But communicating is not your strong suit and you're extremely certain that it's fine. Confusing and vague, but, fine.

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, a continuation of define close, no need to read it to enjoy this, though it will help!, language

Author’s note: happy end or nah? HAPPY END OR NAH????

Wordcount: 4.6K

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

You had to fix it.

Had to apologise and not leave it too long, because if you left it too long, you’d just leave it forever and then you’d never fucking sleep again.

“peperoni or chicken?” you texted, then waited.

It had been just over two hours since you’d walked out of Joe’s flat and you felt extremely stupid. It only got worse when you saw Joe had received and read the message, but then went offline again.

Left on read. Great.

“veg?”

Double grey checkmark.

“just cheese?”

No response.

So, pizza wasn’t the answer. What a crazy concept. It had been the exact right answer for a long time, but, for you. Sharing a pizza with Joe was his fix for you.

What could be Joe’s answer? What could be your fix for him? Your apology didn’t have to be huge. He’d moved out without a heads up, for fuck’s sake. You’d just knocked over a plant.

Oh.

A plant?

Yea. A plant. A big one. A big, green, nice leafy plant.

For in the corner. Or, wherever else Joe wanted to put it. He got to decide that for himself. You knew where it would go best, but, it wasn’t your flat, so you weren’t going to push your opinion. Not unless he asked. It would absolutely look best in that bit of dead space by the–

No.

His flat. His plant. His choice.

A big plant. A gift from you to him. Former flatmate to former flatmate. To be friendly and kind and normal.

To say sorry.

But, without words.

Joe could just accept the gesture and not mention it and then you could go back to normal. Or, well, find a new normal. That would be best.

People gave people plants for house warming gifts, didn’t they? This was normal. If someone would ask, it wouldn’t be weird. And the little plant that you carried in the tote around your shoulder was technically his, so that wasn’t strange either.

“Here you go!” someone else entered the shop just as you left, and held the door open for you.

“Yea, got it! Thank you!” you tried to sound more upbeat than you were whilst you carefully manoeuvred yourself out. Polite smiles got exchanged and you adjusted your grip a little, the big kentia palm heavy in your hands.

House warming gift.

Normal.

You were a normal friend, making your way over to your normal friend who was moving into his new normal flat and you were bringing normal house warming gifts.

If his dad was still there you could say that you just went out to go and replace what you’d accidentally broken.

You really hoped he would be there still, weirdly. His dad. Wished for the barrier of another person there.

And your panicked walk-out from earlier was easily explained too. You’d made a mistake and had felt embarrassed.

Normal. Hauling a massive plant across London, maybe not so normal. But fine. With every step you took the plant grew heavier and you grew more uncomfortable. Two nights of barely any sleep really weren’t working in your favour here. But, it was fine.

Walking up, you noticed the moving van was gone.

When you rang his doorbell, you waited to maybe hear Joe’s voice ask who was there, but the door just buzzed and you were let into the building.

You didn’t have to wait for the lift, and you kind of wished that you did. That you’d had a minute to collect yourself.

But no.

Second floor.

And Joe’s door was already open, the flat all quiet. Bin bags filled with what seemed to be just plastic wrapping were placed to the side and all boxes seemed to have made their way into their new respective rooms.

And, then, there was Joe. Stood in his kitchen. On his own. Busy with– something. You couldn’t see what he was doing, since he had his back turned.

He’d obviously heard you come in, but he didn’t turn around. Even after you cleared your throat, he delayed greeting you and made you feel like a fucking idiot.

“Surprise,” you said in a small voice, far more shaky than you wanted it to be. “Got you a house warming gift, and,” you put the plant down and reached for your tote. “And, also, this. This is yours, too.”

Little crispy wave.

You put it down and gestured a nervous hand Joe didn’t even see. It felt stupid and awkward.

It took another moment before Joe turned around.

He didn’t even look at the big plant. Or the little one. Just looked right at you and kept his face all serious.

“Can we talk?”

No.

“Sure.”

And then you just looked at each other a moment. Shared unsaid things with looks, the way you always did, but you remained frustratingly closed off as Joe tried to pry you open.

He copied the way you were standing then.

Crossed his arms over his stomach and then pulled his shoulders up to his ears and kept them there as he made big eyes at you.

Was he making fun?

You shrugged as a response. Nodded a little and pretended to be nonchalant about it. Yea you were closed off. Had Joe forgotten he hadn’t told you he was moving out? That everything about the current situation you found yourselves in was unwanted and uncomfortable because of him?

And, okay, sure. Yea. You had your hand in this way of being with each other too. But you were the way you were inside of your flat, never out.

So you remained distant.

Kept your arms crossed and stayed right where you were, even though what you craved most right in this moment was the exact opposite. But you couldn’t just step closer and hug Joe right now. Couldn’t just be hugged by Joe right now.

“I don’t–... what am I to you?” Joe asked, genuinely curious.

The sun, you thought. The light when everything else was dark. Softness when everything else had sharp edges. The bit of comfort amongst all the excruciating grief. The fix.

Joe was the fix to every single problem you’d ever had since you’d moved into your flat with him all that time ago.

You said none of those things, of course.

Couldn’t.

So you just blinked rapidly, and hoped you wouldn’t actually cry. It didn’t feel like Joe was in a mood to be very comforting right now, so you really tried your hardest to keep a straight face.

“Tell me. What are we?”

You very nearly said flatmate. But your throat grew thick, and you shook your head. Unable to answer. Flatmate was the wrong answer, anyway.

“No?”

More head shaking. Couldn’t say shit. Joe was no longer your flatmate.

“Well, what... what do you want me to do?” Joe sounded kind, but defeated. You were making this unnecessarily difficult, and Joe didn’t have the answers.

So, you tried your hand at one. At an answer.

“To, um...” you had to stop, clear your throat before you continued, “To water that plant at least once a week.”

You deflected just like you’d done earlier that day. When Joe’d laughed and had hugged you and you hadn’t hugged him back because you weren’t alone in your flat and you never hugged outside of your flat, and fuck off, you were such a stupid bitch, you should’ve just hugged him back then.

“Keep it out of direct sunlight–” your voice wobbled as Joe cut you off.

“No, stop it. Don’t, you’re– baby, please.”

Baby.

That shot you right in the chest. Made you drop your head as your face scrunched up and tears fell right to the floor.

Baby.

“What do I do? What do you want?”

Concern flitted across his face, and if Joe thought that this was going to help you get your words out, he was dead wrong. The want to just leave once more was there. You felt it in your legs. In your feet. In the way the corners of your mouth got pulled down by emotion and exhaustion and– you weren’t made for this shit. You wanted out.

But Joe was quick.

Before you could even bring a hand up to your face to hide your pout, Joe was there. Curled arms around your back and tightly squeezed you against his chest so you got to hide your pout in there. Rested his head atop yours and softly shushed you.

You weren’t even really crying, but Joe’s embrace was welcome anyway.

It always was.

“I know you see it. You see it right? Feel it?”

You nodded. You did see it. Did feel it. But that shit was terrifying, and so, no thanks. You could just be blind and void of feelings forever and everything would be fine.

It wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. Obviously.

And Joe was just shoving your face into the fact that it wasn’t and would never be. Needed you to admit to it. Or at least acknowledge it. Something.

“So then talk to me. What do I do? What do you want?”

Your face scrunched up in a mixture of both hurt and anger. You wanted a lot of things. You wanted to crawl inside Joe’s clothes and tell him to shut the fuck up and simultaneously wanted to slowly push him down the stairs the way you’d pushed that plant to its demise earlier that day.

He was an idiot that was trying his best to fix something he’d caused.

He wasn the fix this time.

He was the cause of the hurt.

The second you realised that, you opened your mouth to speak, yet all that came out was a sob.

A pathetic small little sob that shook you by the shoulders more than it made an actual sound.

It made Joe squeeze you tighter as he shushed you more, but the shushing just fueled the anger.

Did he want you to talk to him or not?!

“You’ve never been– you’re not meant to be the cause, you– you’re the cause now.”

You got the words out and felt how the anger was fleeting.

“I know, baby. I know.”

Baby.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to be the reason you– you know, hence the... you need to know that I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have gone about it like that, I just...”

You loved being able to feel Joe’s voice as he spoke, but the words gave you anxiety.

You never talked, and this was a lot.

You were so fucking tired.

“I’m sorry, I should–...”

Should leave? Get out? Stop this awkward chat because you were crying and it wasn’t slowly ebbing away but was very persistently setting up camp right behind your eyes where you knew it was going to stay put and hurt your throat and it took effort the whole time to not burst into louder sobs and–

“What do you want?”

Joe didn’t let go. Didn’t let that stupid question go either. You still hadn’t answered it yet, and Joe desperately wanted you to.

You had to say it. Had to use your voice, no matter how hoarse and barely-there it was.

Where you hated how small and stupid and weak you sounded, this was the type of stuff Joe fucking lived for.

Did he hate that he knew exactly why you were emotional right now? That he was responsible for the state of you right now?

Yes absolutely.

Guilt ate away at him from the inside out, but look, he was fixing it, and you were outside of the flat, and you’d come back after you’d left in a hurry earlier, and he had already been trying to accept the idea that maybe he wouldn’t see you for a while, you know?

Yet here you were.

All wrapped up in his arms.

All safe.

He couldn’t exactly protect you from himself, but he knew that what was done was necessary and important. He’d just done it wrong.

He’d kiss it better though.

Joe pressed soft kisses into your hair and then whispered, “Hmm? What is it you want?”

And you only really had one answer.

“To sleep.” you murmured, and you weren’t lying. Joe was holding you and he was warm and he smelt nice and you really wanted to go to sleep. “I’m tired.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but, all right. You’d answered his question.

“Mhmm. Go to sleep then. Get some–”

Joe stopped when you shook your head no and stuttered through breathing that grew more erratic as you tried to stiffle your sobbing.

“I can’t, it’s...”

God, it was so stupid.

Saying this shit out loud was so fucking awkward and lame and everything sounded daft and wrong, and not at all like the actual thoughts and feelings you felt inside, and Joe wouldn’t understand what you actually meant.

You couldn’t fucking sleep without Joe there.

Stiffling sobs only built them up until larger ones slipped out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Joe shushed, pressed his lips into your hair, squeezed you tighter and rocked a little from side to side.

You felt like a fucking child.

It wasn’t okay.

But Joe shushed you, and swayed you, and if you closed your eyes it was kind of like you were both at home where this was totally fine and okay and just how you were.

Joe was making light of something heavy because he was so good at making light of all things heavy.

You had been what you were for so long that now the prospect of no longer being that felt so foreign to you, it only made you duck into Joe’s grasp even more.

Joe wanted to ask the same question again.

Wanted to whisper it into your hair. What do you want, and, what am I to you exactly, because you were no longer flatmates now, and, what did you tell your friend, how did you explain to her what you were together, what words did you use?

He could tell you what he wanted you to say, but that wouldn’t count. It didn’t work like that.

What did it work like, though?

Forcing you to fucking speak?

Making you cry so he could swoop right in and kiss it better like a manipulative twat?

Outside of the flat you shared it only became more clear to Joe that this wasn’t normal, and that a new normal was desperately needed. One where you lived in your own spaces and had a little distance and would then meet up every once in a while and have dates in the outside world like normal people.

Necessary and important.

You stood in Joe’s kitchen for a while.

Joe held you until you stopped shaking and your breathing evened out. He knew for sure you’d stopped crying when he felt one of your hands search for the hem of his T-shirt to sneak under and touch the bare skin of his back.

Had you been at home, this is where he would’ve walked you over to sit down on the sofa.

But there was no sofa to go sit on.

And sure, Joe’s bed had been put together, but it wasn’t made, and there were so many boxes to go through still. Shit to unpack. He had mates coming ‘round later that were going to help with the flatpacks and, did he want to just find his covers and lay down with you for the rest of the day? Yes. Absolutely. But he couldn’t.

Joe let go of you and reached for your sneaking hand. Pulled it from under the fabric and broke his own heart when he watched your face, tear-stained and blotchy, as you came to terms with there being no familiar next steps.

Not this time.

It was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat once more, but you were quick to calm yourself down. Joe got to see from up close how you closed your eyes and took slow deep breaths through your nose.

And then, surprising both him and yourself, you answered Joe’s earlier question.

What do you want?

“I want you to sell this place and come back.”

A bold joke. Not not true, but definitely silly. You knew that was never going to happen, and you opened your eyes only to see Joe trying his hardest to fight a smile off of his face.

“I’m not going to sell this place and come back.” Joe said in his gentlest voice, playing with the hand he was still holding onto. He held it by your index finger and your pinky and just shook it about a bit.

“Imagine if I did,” Joe carefully tried a joke in return, and he thanked the fucking stars when you smiled.

“Tell you what will be going back with you, though.”

Joe let go of your hand and picked up the small asplenium. His crispy wave that he placed in your bedroom that he liked so much he decided to get his own one, for his own flat, so you’d have a matching set, which you then went and broke.

“No, it’s... they’re buddies.”

You pointed at the big kentia palm with a little pout and Joe was about to fucking die at how cute you were being.

“Yea, all right.” Joe said, but still moved to place the small pot back in the tote you left on the side. “They can be buddies. But they’ll just... they’ll live at different flats.”

Joe took your hand and moved the straps of the bag up your arm. Pushed them onto your shoulder with soft care and made sure they laid flat.

“But they’ll miss each other.” you tried, obviously no longer talking about the plants.

Joe smiled.

“They won’t need to. They can still see each other all the time. They can text. Call. Have dinner– have pizza together. Sleep over. Stay the night. They wont have to miss each other.”

And that was that.

You were told to go get some rest. Joe would call you later.

And sure.

You could do that.

Didn’t like it.

But you could do that.

Kind of had no other choice, anyway.

With your little plant in your bag and the promise of seeing each other later, you left his flat, and felt... sort of numb. Still exhausted and somewhat empty, but, you got to keep the plant, so that was one thing.

You still didn’t want to look at all the empty in your flat, so you beelined it straight into your bedroom when you came home. Placed Joe’s plant back in the window and tried to get some rest.

And it really should’ve been so easy.

You were tired. Had had two consecutive nights of barely any sleep and the emotional rollercoaster you’d just experienced left your brain absolutely functionless.

Just, defective. Error 404.

And you’d nearly fallen asleep standing up in Joe’s kitchen forty-five minutes ago as he’d held you, but somehow... it just didn’t work on your own. In your own bed.

But you tried.

You really fucking tried.

You tossed and turned for ages until tears of frustration slipped into your pillow.

Fuck Joe.

Fuck him and his ways of making you feel so cherished. You weren’t feeling very cherished right now, how fucking foul of him. To be around at your disposal for ages, letting things naturally progress, and to then just vanish? Leave you without the ability to sleep in your own bed? Could only get some actual shut-eye in his room?

And, well. A drowning man will clutch at a fucking straw, won’t he?

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

In a wave of fury you slung the covers back and hauled yourself up and out of bed.

If Joe wasn’t going to fucking fix this, you were.

You heard a key slide into your front door just after dragging your heavy mattress over to what used to be Joe’s bedroom and you froze in a panic.

Joe still had his key.

Of course he did.

Shit.

You were stood in the doorway of your bedroom, pillows under your arms and a corner of your duvet in your hand.

The door opened and just like you’d expected, Joe stepped into view, looking all soft with fluffy hair and big eyes and soft skind and– and actually... yea, this was perfect.

Just what you needed, actually.

Joe saw you before he closed the door behind him.

Mess of a girl. Hair everywhere. Bags under her eyes. Clothes twisted around her body. Holding as much of her bedding as she could hold with just two arms.

You slowly blinked at him.

“Hey... what are you...”

Joe was holding a pizza box.

Brought dinner.

It was a bit late for dinner, but he hadn’t been able to stop looking at the texts you’d sent that he never responded to.

“What’s going on?”

You dropped what you were holding and stepped forward. Joe thought you were going for a hug, maybe, but instead, you reached for the pizza box. Took it from him and the put it down onto the floor right next to him.

Didn’t need that.

Just needed Joe.

“Are you all right? Hey. Look at me.”

Without saying anything you then took hold of Joe’s arm and pulled him along. Into his old bedroom. Pushed at his shoulders and made him sit down onto the mattress before you turned and went to get all the bedding you’d dropped.

You didn’t care he had his coat on still. Had his shoes on still.

It took a second for Joe to fully understand what was happening.

What was going on right now.

Why you seemed so fucking out of it and why you didn’t answer any of his questions or his confused looks.

Joe watched as you walked back into the room and stepped onto your mattress, duvet dragging on the floor behind you. He held an arm out, said, “C’mere,” and you didn’t need to be told fucking twice.

Dropped all you were holding once again, but this time, it turned your mattress on the floor into somewhat of an actual bed. Not a made one; it was a whole heap of soft on one side, and then just Joe on the other.

But he said come here, and you only had so much brain capacity left, you know?

You let yourself fall onto your knees and crawled until you found Joe’s lap. You shifted and turned and wiggled yourself onto him and then Joe let himself fall back, legs splayed out on the floor, but enough of him on the mattress for you to curl up on properly.

You laid chest to chest. Soft stomach to soft stomach. Heart to heart. Your head on his shoulder, your nose nudging into the squishy flesh under his chin, and your eyelashes tickled into the scruff on his jaw.

“Yea? Is this better?” Joe whispered and patted a searching hand around until he found the duvet. He pulled it across until you were both covered with it and you hummed on the exhale of a contented sigh.

This was it.

This was what your body had been craving. Was exactly what you needed.

“You comfy, baby?”

Baby.

“Mhmm,”

Joe shifted his hips, and your crotches were also definitely right on top of each other, but it went ignored. Not important right now.

Sleep was important right now.

Warmth, and comfort, and Joe’s velvety soothing voice were important right now.

His heartbeat, and his smell, and his stroking fingers that found the soft warm skin of your back to leave goosebumps on as he trailed fingertips all the way and all the way back down were important right now.

“That’s it, just relax.”

You couldn’t even properly hum anymore, your throat just made a little noise, and when Joe felt you sink into him even deeper, his chest hurt with unexpressed affection.

You were falling asleep.

The light in the hallway was still on, his bedroom door wide open, shoes and coat still on, but you were falling asleep on top of him and God, if that didn’t make him question every single choice he’d made over the past few months.

He dipped his chin a little and planted a little kiss on wherever it landed. Side of your nose, Joe thought.

You accepted it and nudged him back into place and Joe had to squeeze his eyes shut at how fucking adorable that was.

He was going to tell you in the morning.

Promised himself he would.

He wanted exactly this, the way you were inside the flat, but, have that elsewhere.

Not just here.

Have that outside.

In his new flat.

In front of other people.

“Hey,” Joe whispered, but he got no response. The only noise that filled the room was your shared breathing, and, good, Joe thought. Sleep.

He was going to say the words anyway.

“It won’t always be like this.”

You heard them.

And Joe was right.

But you were immediately aware of how fucking cruel that sounded. Because, obviously, it wasn’t always going to be like this. Joe wasn’t always going to be showing up at your front door with a box of pizza and a bunch of time on his hands. He wasn’t going to be around for ever. Let himself be pushed onto a mattress so you could sleep on top of him. Life would eventually run away with him.

You’d only been flatmates once, and the probability that any of what that meant remained was astronomically small.

Joe’d had flatmates before he no longer spoke to. So did you.

Of course, you knew it wouldn’t always be like this.

But, it also wouldn’t always be like this.

There would be other guys, other men, that would try to provide you with the same idea of comfort and safety and it wouldn’t be the same, but it’d be just as nice. Just different.

There’d likely be new flatmates, different people to share living space with, new people to share pizza with, and it wouldn’t be like this.

Not as nice.

Not as effortless and fucking easy as it was with Joe.

Where everything meant nothing and something at the same time.

It wouldn’t be like this.

“I know.”

You surprised Joe with your barely there whisper, and it startled him enough for you to feel it in his body. To cover it up, he quickly wrapped tight arms around you in response.

He’d tell you in the morning.

He’d tell you he wanted to hold hands as you walked from your flat to his and back.

He’d tell you he wanted to be able to curl up on the sofa together the way you always did in front of his friends. In front of yours.

He’d tell you that the safe space of your flat could be extended and, as long as you and Joe were together, it didn’t matter where you were; he could be the safe space.

Moving out was the first step to the expanding of the comfort zone.

Tomorrow, it was time for the second step.

Joe vowed that this promise wouldn’t vanish with the sunrise, the way that promises made late at night always were so wont to do.

Swore that it would be the first this he’d do when he’d wake.

I’ll start on Monday.

I’ll wake up early, do it in the morning.

Thing’s will be different when the sun rises.

They never were.

Not really.

But he’d tell you. And he’d see if you were willing to listen. the end

---

The Taglisted

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#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us

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