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icallhimjoey · 28 days

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Reinvent Love

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: uh-oh here we GO! the girls voted and the girls won, so here we are! the no-longer-flatmates-flatmate fic - you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five There was something living inside Joe’s chest.

It was only small, but definitely there. Ugly. Green. Growing. With potential to do real harm. It crawled around and scoped him out, exploring his heart from all different angles, carefully tasting it.

It hadn’t bitten him yet, but Joe knew if he lost sight of it – if he stopped trying to control it – that eventually, it would. And it would hurt. It didn’t exactly feel great now, but once it’d sink its teeth in, Joe knew he’d be done for.

He remembered when it still good. Still nice. Warm. And soft. And joyous, all full of love.

It used to be kind and sweet and would make him smile until his cheeks were quite literally cramping.

But it’d changed. It’d turned bad.

He wished he could’ve seen it coming.

It was a good thing that he found he was able to easily control it with rational thought. Problem was that rational thought had the habit of abandoning him once it got dark outside and he was alone in his flat.

His new flat.

Where everything was his.

Where everything got put in places that he chose. All his things were where he wanted them, all catering towards his routine. Which was why a basket of underwear made it into a bathroom cupboard, and why a shelf got put up near the balcony door, so he had a place to keep his cigarettes and a lighter. Gone were the days of rummaging through coat pockets ‘til he found what he was looking for.

It was sort of great, Joe wasn’t going to lie, living on his own.

It didn’t look quite as nice, not quite as homey, but Joe was sure he’d soon learn what the place was missing. He didn’t worry about it. There were more important things to worry about. Like, how quick dust built up into bunnies underneath the sofa and how every time he’d open his front door, it’d waft out from underneath, only to settle in the middle of the room for everyone to see. Or how somehow he panicked so much about keeping his plants alive that he was systematically overwatering all of them.

Idiot.

It was fine.

Rational thinking.

It was all fine.

Things were different now.

Good different.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Joe joked as he let you in, pointing out the large bouquet of flowers in your hands.

His place already smellt amazing. Joe made a good roast, and had one going now, things in the oven, bubbling and simmering away.

“If I never did things I shouldn’t do, life would be very boring,” you said, laying the colourful bunch down on his island.

“Did... wait, did you actually get those for me?”

“Have you got a vase?” you were already opening cabinet doors. “You don’t, do you?”

When you didn’t get a reply, you turned to see Joe stare at the flowers. He looked a little dumbfounded.

“Joe?”

“Hmm?” he looked up at you and blinked a few times. “Oh, um...” he squeezed his eyes shut a second, trying to gather his thoughts.

Took too long, you thought.

“A vase?” you repeated, trying very hard to keep a straight face, to not let the smallest inkling of a smile slip through.

“Sorry, I don’t... I don’t think I’ve got a vase.”

Why the fuck would he own a vase, Joe thought.

“I’ll get you one as a housewarming gift,” you found a pitcher. “This’ll do for now.”

There was evidence on the counter of what Joe had been in the middle of, cutting veggies, preparing the gravy. But as you filled the pitcher with water, Joe still kind of hovered in the same spot in silence. Looked at the flowers that you’d brought in and felt silly for how those made him feel.

When you placed the pitcher in the middle of the island and reached for the bouquet, you broke his trance, and Joe softly laughed at himself.

“This is... my God, this is so sweet? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers before.”

“Well,” you smiled back, about to throw stones into your own windows. “I didn’t get them for you.”

“Oh?” Joe immediately felt embarrassed. Mortified. Felt the skin of his neck flush with heat.

“I got them for your flat.”

Got him.

Joe let out the breath he was holding in defeat, dropping his head and smiling. Scoffed softly at himself because you were joking, and he was an idiot.

“You know, give it some colour. Give me something nice to look at when I’m here.” you plopped the flowers into the pitcher and didn’t get the chance to make it look nice, to arrange it a little, because before you could, you got picked up by the waist and shaken about. You shriek-laughed a loud, “No!”

“Something nice to look at?” Joe pressed his face into your cheek as you squealed through your giggles.

“Am I not nice to look at, huh?” Joe squeezed extra tight before he put you down, turning you in his arms and keeping you real close.

“You’re nice to look at,” you said sweetly, still grinning widely, nose nudging up at his. “If I could put you in a vase and arrange you all nice, I would.”

Joe snorted, and you felt it on your face.

“Hmm. You’re funny.”

You got kissed by soft lips that almost felt shy to kiss you.

“Don’t get me a vase.”

And then you got kissed a little harder. Bit more firm.

“I’ll get my own.”

“No,” you objected, speaking right into his mouth. “You’ll get a stupid one with like, frosted writing on, or something. Live, love, laugh.”

You felt Joe’s smile as he kissed you harder, both arms squeezing as they wrapped around your waist tighter. You sighed into Joe’s affection and took great comfort in the fact that you were alone. You were outside of your flat, which was still wild in your opinion, but at least you were alone.

Alone was good.

Joe’d gotten into the habit of showing affection when you were around others, around strangers, and you didn’t think you were ever going to get used to it.

The first time Joe reached to hold your hand, you’d nearly had a panic attack.

It wasn’t very cold, but the wind was cutting. Hurt your forehead as you walked and made you hunch as you pulled up your shoulders to shield yourself as best you could. Joe’s hand finding yours was a welcome warmth for your cold fingers, but it still made you fall silent as you tensed up.

Joe just held on for a few steps, and looked at you. You could see him stare from your peripheral, could feel the burn of it high up in your cheeks, and tried your best to ignore it.

“You can relax.” Joe humorously said, speaking softly and leaning in a little to make sure you could hear him.

“I am relaxed.” You immediately argued, because holding hands with Joe shouldn’t be weird. It should actually be normal. You tangled up with your full bodies more days than you didn’t when you shared a flat. If anything, Joe’s touches were exactly what turned you lax, all floppy and boneless.

“S’just cold.”

“Hmm,” Joe sounded unsure, very obviously not believing you, and squeezed your fingers a couple of times. When you didn’t smile, Joe let his own drop too, and asked if you were okay.

“Fine.” You reassured, growing a little defensive. If Joe could just stop talking about it, that’d be great.

“Should I– do you want me to let go?”

“No, it’s okay.” You said, sounding a little squeaky, but you doubled down with a squeeze of your own.

Joe took it, accepted it, albeit a little unsure if maybe he’d made the wrong move here. But you’d walked along, and you held hands, and when you fell into random conversation again, holding your hand became something Joe stopped thinking about. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb along yours, and at one point used his grasp to pull you in front of him when you had to share a narrow bit of pavement with oncomers.

You weren’t like Joe.

Not for a single second had you been able to be as casual about it as Joe had been.

You focussed on your hand the whole while you walked, and couldn’t help but check to see if others were looking at it. If strangers that passed you looked down at your hands. To check if they could see. If they somehow knew that you’d never done this before.

You had.

But not like this. Not outside. Not in public.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hold Joe’s hand, but there was something about this new phase you were in, where Joe walked over to yours to pick you up to go out for dinner together. Where he had to ring the doorbell and ask if he could quickly come up to use the toilet before you left. Where he pretended he didn’t know where the bathroom was and made you show him the way. Where he faked being anxious when you left your flat, saying that he hoped you liked the restaurant he booked a table at. Where he nervously asked if you liked Italian food, as if you hadn’t shared a million pizzas together.

Things were different now, and although you were close, would often do everything you could to dissolve into his skin, walking hand in hand through the streets of London felt insane. Like you were moving too fast, even though you understood how silly that sounded.

You’d spent that entire walk thinking of a natural reason to let go of his hand, and Joe had felt your fingers twitch. Felt how you seemed to change you mind about it every three seconds. But, you’d said he could hold onto you, so, he simply did.

It wasn’t until you reached the restaurant and used the heavy door as an excuse to wiggle your fingers from Joe’s hand, using both of yours to pull it open.

Baby steps, Joe thought as he smirked to himself, astonished that he’d gotten to hold your hand out in public for over ten minutes.

He was sure you’d slap him away the second he even attempted to intertwine your fingers together.

Which, coincidentally, was exactly what you did the first time Joe tried to lean in for a quick peck on the lips as you said goodbye to each other outside of his flat.

You’d been out, and were both in a bit of a rush to get home. You thought that the way you’d hugged his arm for a second was plenty goodbye. You’d pressed the side of your face to his bicep and said you’d see him later.

You’d reached the point where you wanted to go cross the street as Joe would walk the other way to get to his front door, and when you tried to step away, he yanked you right back by the elbow.

The way you recoiled away from him was so extreme, it startled Joe. You almost made it look like he was about to hit you.

“Jesus,” he mumbled under his breath, and you immediately apologised. You stepped back closer to him, were about to accept a quick kiss as an apology, but let your eyes nervously dart around to see if there were other people. If there were witnesses.

Joe just looked at you, blinked a few times and then, instead of leaning in for a quick kiss, squeezed you in your side.

“Calm down. Call me when you get home.”

And you’d blushed at how Joe’d smiled at you before he turned to head inside. Your face had remained hot until you got home where you then had to take a moment to shake all the nervous jitters from your body.

It was such a weird spot to be in, Joe thought.

How he couldn’t get too close if there was the slightest chance of someone seeing, but to have you literally whine at him inbetween his sheets if he didn’t touch you in the right spot with the right pressure at the right speed.

But steps were being made in the right direction.

You each had you own place now, and Joe made a point to sometimes not see you for a few days. He kind of enjoyed getting to miss you. He liked how his stomach did flips when you’d ring his doorbell after not having been over for a few days. He liked how absence made his heart grow fonder, and how that felt healthy.

Joe assumed you felt the same way; maybe you didn’t like it as much as he did, but surely you also understood how this was at least more normal.

He never thought that what the two of you were before was toxic.

It was just... weird.

Good weird.

But this was better.

Still a little weird, he wasn’t going to lie. But better.

He got to tell you to call him when you got home now. He got to invite you over to his flat for Sunday roast now. And you would then come and bring him flowers now.

Joe had never received flowers before. Well, maybe he had. But not like this. Not from a girl who brought them just for him. Just because. He kind of loved it. Kind of loved you.

“God, you were right.” Joe said, eyes unblinking, comfortably staring.

Both satisfied and full after an early dinner, the two of you laid out on Joe’s sofa - the one that took six weeks and then two more to arrive - and both looked at the bouquet up on the kitchen island. You were tucked into his side, with one of his arms slung around your frame. You held one of his hands with both of yours and absentmindedly played with his fingers.

“I don’t know how this works but they kind of make the whole room look better.”

“They do.” You agreed, smiling, because you did that. You turned your head, tilting up to look at Joe’s face. “Please let me pick out a vase for you, though.”

Joe’s grin slowly grew as he said, “Absolutely not. Might just keep the pitcher for flowers only, I kind of like it.”

“Ugh,” you grimaced. “This is such a boy’s flat.”

“Well,” Joe started, raising his eyebrows, finally breaking eye-contact with the fresh bloom, tucking in his chin to look down at you. “I am a boy, so, that checks out.”

For a moment you just looked at each other, smiling, cuddled up into the corner like you always were cuddled up into the corner together. When you saw Joe flick his eyes down to your lips, you pulled the hand you were still holding closer to bite right into the skin between his index finger and thumb.

Joe pretended to flinch, but you were barely leaving marks as you smiled through the bite, big eyes looking up at him. Joe took a moment to just take you in. The way you looked at him had him biting his own lip before he tried to grab hold of one of your hands to pull into his mouth.

You were already scream-laughing and trying your best to pull your hand away before he even got close. It left you in a wrestling pile of limbs, Joe with his mouth open, growling and ready to bite at whatever got close enough. He ended up getting at bit of your sleeve in between his teeth, pinning you down into the soft seat-cushions and he felt drunk with joy.

He was so fucking happy.

Pretty girl in his flat, giggling away on his sofa, and she’d brought him flowers. It was kind of disgusting how he’d turned to goop on the inside.

Joe didn’t wait for your giggles to die out to get his lips on yours and kiss you silly.

There was something living inside Joe’s chest.

It was sticky and sugary sweet and Joe loved the taste it.

Loved how it bubbled over and leaked into his stomach.

Loved how it swirled into his limbs and made him reach for your hand to hold when you were walking outside.

Loved how it made him put his arm around your shoulders to pull you tightly into his side as you waited to get your coffees whilst the barista prepared them.

Loved how it grew as he took the lead on this new way of being together the way you had done before when you still lived together.

It made Joe want to introduce you to someone as his girlfriend, knowing full well that you hadn’t had that conversation yet, and that you’d likely have a melt down, but God.

It was just what he wanted to do, he couldn’t help it.

He wouldn’t.

There was a high probability that you’d actually murder him if he pulled a stunt like that.

The fact that you were kissing like this outside of your flat right now was already sort of stretching it, Joe knew.

You let Joe kiss you on his sofa for a minute. Let him slide his nose around yours with an open mouth that hovered over yours inbetween kisses. He made you work for it, having to lift up your head for more when he teased you for too long.

When you felt how Joe started readjusting his position on top of you, you knew you had to break it off.

“Hmm– Joe, no, I gotta–”

“Hm?”

“I gotta go, there’s– stop, there’s a potential flatmate coming over in a bit, I gotta– Joe!”

Joe finally broke away with an annoyed grumble leaving his throat as he did.

“Fine.”

“I can... I could always come back after?”

Joe shifted enough to let you escape the sofa.

“Hmm, you could, but I do have an early morning, so it’s probably not worth the trouble.” Joe sighed, lying back with an arm curled behind his head, watching you twist your clothes so it all sat right again.

“No?”

“I’ll probably be asleep by the time you make it back here.”

“Well,” you started, slinging your arms into your coat. “All depends on how long this is going to take. If it’s another 19-year-old trying to negotiate for a 30-70 rent split first thing, I’ll only be a second.”

“God, for your sake, I hope it’s not another student. But for my sake...” Joe made big eyes, giving you a suggestive look that broke into a smile when you laughed.

You gave Joe a last quick kiss as you bent over the sofa and told him you’d see him later, all casual.

Joe’s smile lingered as he watched you walk out.

“Call me when you get home!”

Yea... there was something living inside Joe’s chest.

And it was cuddly and fuzzy and comfortable and good...

For now.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#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 #reinvent love

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icallhimjoey · 2 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! 18+ smut

Author’s note: there's an attempt at communication! hurray!

Wordcount: 3.2K

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

Shittest night of sleep ever? Yea. Shittest night of sleep ever.

It could not be true that in this short amount of time you no longer were able to fall asleep on your own like a normal person. That you needed another body next to you in order to let it catch you and drag you under.

But you’d barely slept. And the sleep that you did get was of the lightest variety, which barely even counted as sleep, you thought.

You had half expected maybe to wake up in Joe’s bed in the morning. Weirdly hoped that you would’ve sleepwalked right over into his room when you subconsciously heard him come home.

You had also half secretly wished that Joe would’ve made his way over and snuck into your bed upon finding his own cold and empty.

Neither happened.

Which was actually devastating.

But you had to pretend it wasn’t.

You were just flatmates, remember?

So you woke up in your own bed the same way you’d gone to sleep; by yourself, all alone, tired as fuck, and being stared at by Joe’s little plant.

Joe’s little plant that, deep sigh, desperately needed watering.

With a low grumble stuck in the back of your throat, you got up and out of bed and went to feed that little plant. Meanly whispered, “You don’t even belong here.” to it as you poured some water from the cup that held your toothbrush in your ensuite.

You immediately felt bad for it, and followed it up with a soft, “No, I’m sorry, you do. I just haven’t slept well. Sorry.”

Idiot.

Talking to a plant.

You needed some coffee.

Joe’s bedroom door was closed, which checked out, he was probably sleeping off a hangover. But halfway through breakfast, you heard the front door open and frowned in confusion. Your mind shot over who the fuck that could be besides Joe. Who else had a key beside both your mums?

But then, a sweaty, wet, rosy-cheeked Joe walked in, all out of breath, already pulling his T-shirt over his head that he then used to rub at his curls before pushing them back.

You nearly chocked on your bite of toast.

Joe smiled, still panting, and leant both arms on the island right next to you. Bent all the way down to do some stretching, and then stood up, only to lean over and take a bite from the piece of toast you were still holding.

If you’d have been more alert, you’d have moved it out of his way.

But, clearly, you were not more alert.

Not your fault, though. Clearly.

“Morning,” he grinned, breathing through flared nostrils as he chewed.

You comically blinked and checked your wrist that didn’t hold a watch for the time.

“What the... are you still drunk?”

Joe laughed as he opened the fridge, fishing out something to drink. He found a bottle of water and you watched him closely as he gulped some of it down.

“What time did you even get in?”

“Not that late,” Joe shrugged, “Two-ish, I think?”

You saw how he eyed the breakfast you were still holding, and yea, you weren’t that hungry anyway. You dropped whatever there was left onto your plate and slid it across. Joe happily went for the scraps.

“And already all alert and awake at,” you tapped your phone to actually check the time and grimaced. “Oh, never mind.”

It was nearing in on half 9.

Felt much earlier. Probably because you’d barely slept.

“You should try it,” Joe said, eyes on what he was about to shove into his mouth, all casual, like he wasn’t half naked and shiny with his own sweat. Wet curls trying to creep onto his forehead like their life depended on it. Cheeks all red and blotchy. “Come running with me sometime. Really makes you feel useful first thing.”

You scoffed at him despite how good he looked.

Shit. He looked so good.

But Joe had said that like you didn’t get up early to go to work five days a week. Like you didn’t leave him in his bed only to turn over and go back to sleep once you’d left.

“Um, I’ve been useful plenty, mind you.”

“Oh yea?”

“Watered your plant first thing.”

“My plant?”

“Your plant.”

Joe’s eyes scanned you for a second, and you almost grew shy.

“It’s in your room.”

And with that, Joe rounded the island and bent to push his face into your neck where he left a wet raspberry that made you squeal before he left for a shower.

You didn’t talk about how you’d slept in separate beds for the first time in ages. You didn’t mention how your arm had reached across several times in search of him, and how you’d felt stupid for it every single time you remembered he wasn’t there.

At least breakfast hadn’t been awkward.

He was insane for walking in like a wet dream, sure. But it was ultimately all fine.

And it wasn’t like you ever talked about anything ever before. If anything, this was as normal as it had ever been between the two of you.

So you went about your day. Had many important activities to do. All crucial business. Almost too much for just one girl, but you know, you were a real go getter.

You moved the little plant from your dresser to your windowsill where it would get some actual sunlight, and then fell asleep on the sofa to some bad TV.

Like you’d said; crucial business.

The evening came around fast, and after your shower, you found yourself sat on the floor by the foot of your bed. Your nose stung from the open bottle of nail polish remover by your feet, and you felt how it dried the absolute shit out of the skin of your toes as you’d forgotten to get the acetone free kind.

Across the hall you could hear Joe brush his teeth in the bathroom, and you silently prepared yourself for another night of shitty sleep.

You didn’t know if you could muster up a stupid excuse to sneak into his bed tonight, and after sleeping apart, it felt like there was a new threshold in place. One that was too high. If Joe wasn’t going to invite you over, you probably wouldn’t.

You’d moved onto your second foot when you heard footsteps coming closer, and then Joe appeared in the doorway to your bedroom.

Obviously, you immediately noticed him.

Didn’t mean that you also had to immediately acknowledge him, though.

You kept eyes on the task at hand, using a thumb to really push down on a cotton round that tinted pinker with every swipe.

Joe just stood there, leant against the side and you tried to imagine what Joe was looking at. You were sat on your rug like a dirty little gremlin, inhaling chemical fumes that would leave you loopy if you didn’t close that bottle soon.

You eventually cracked and went, “What?” without looking up.

You could feel Joe smile.

“Looks good there, in the window.” he commented, and that did make you look up, finally. You followed Joe’s gaze and turned to look at his crispy wave that you’d placed there.

You knew Joe was just making conversation, but you didn’t really know what to say. For a moment, it was quiet and you both just... look at the plant.

Then, you let your filter drop a second and surprised yourself when you said, “We got caught yesterday.”

You said it before you looked at him, and you were glad for it. When you did turn your head his way, he was already frowning in confusion. You were glad you hadn’t seen him go from a cheeky smile into that muddled glower.

“What do you mean?”

“I told her. Had to, tell her. She asked.”

You didn’t even say what you told her. You trusted he’d get it. So many things went unsaid with you, surely, this could be one of them.

You were right, because in true flatmate fashion, Joe didn’t ask.

Instead, you watched his face change back into a soft amusement as he lowly chuckled to himself. Looked down at his bare feet. Nodded and sighed. Visibly dropped his shoulders.

You didn’t understand what was funny.

But you also didn’t ask.

And then, Joe turned and just... left. Walked back over to his own bedroom.

What the fuck did that mean?

You should’ve just asked.

You didn’t. Of course.

You had a task to do. Two of your toenails were still red. And the skin of your fingers was starting to stain now too.

You finished up, cleared all your toenails of the chipped polish and kept your ears pricked up. You could hear Joe’s wardrobe doors slide a few times. The clinking of his metal hangers. Things being dropped to the floor.

Weird time for a wardrobe clear-out, but, you kind of got it. You’d just mentioned it for the first time... ever? In front of him. Said you’d spoken to a friend about it. You’d just told Joe you’d talked about something intimate and secret between the two of you that you had never even spoken about to each other. It was at least a little unsettling, wasn’t it?

You remembered the last time you’d gotten weird news at a similar time of day and had decided that you needed to clean the kettle at half 11 on a Thursday.

People coped how they coped.

It was fine.

You double checked if the rug had any pink marks on, were glad to find that it hadn’t even though you hadn’t exactly been very careful, when you heard Joe’s wardrobe doors slide shut.

You paused.

Waited for the noise of him getting into bed.

The rustling of his duvet.

But then he suddenly called, “You coming?” and despite yourself, you smiled. Tried to bite it into your mouth to hide it, but that made it only grow wider.

“One sec!” you called back and hoped that the excitement wasn’t so noticeable through your voice. You quickly went and made your bed, so it looked all tidy. Got rid of the dirty cotton rounds that stank up the whole room and turned off the lights before making your way over to Joe’s room.

There you saw that Joe had neatly stacked all of what was inside of his wardrobe in piles on the floor just outside the wardrobe.

Awful.

Men were messy and awful.

But men also had warm beds they wanted to share, and Joe was holding up his covers so you could go and sneak in, and so you didn’t waste any time. Snuck right in on your respective side of his bed.

And then... it was awkward.

Kind of. Maybe.

You both laid on your backs, arms above the covers, and stared up at the ceiling and... now what?

Why was this suddenly weird?

You could think of a few reasons, but they were nothing to delve into right now.

After a short moment, Joe turned his head to look at you, and so you did too. Looked at him. Saw how he looked at your shoulder. Your arms. Your chest, probably.

"Nice T-shirt."

Oh.

Yea, that was his.

“Looks good on you.”

If the goal was to make you smile, he had succeeded. With flying colours.

But then his face turned serious, and he said, “But you know, it probably would look a lot better on my bedro��”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You’d already rolled your eyes at him before he’d even finished the cheesy pick-up line and stopped him before he got to complete the punchline. It made him laugh, and you were quick to roll yourself half-way over him because how could you not kiss that pretty mouth shut?

And this was it.

This was the answer.

All hints at awkwardness vanished the moment you pressed your lips to his.

The moment Joe’s arms wrapped around you.

The moment he kept you in place with a tight grip, right on top of him.

The moment he let a hand wander to grab at your ass.

The moment he encouraged you to alleviate some pressure over one of his thighs.

When you felt how hard he was.

When you lost all control over your breathing.

Felt how Joe kept holding his, only to release it in shudders every couple of inhales.

You had never had actual sex before. No, wait, you did. What you had seen and felt and tasted of each other already did also count as actual sex. But it had all been hands, fingers, mouths. You'd never let Joe inside with more than his fingers. Twice his tongue.

Joe was just as aware.

He was happy to just make out for a while. Touch your tits. Help you ride his thigh. Have you sneak a hand into his boxers after, to make things wet and sticky inside of the cotton.

You know. Normal flatmate things.

But you kind of wanted more.

You’d never had more, and Joe’s hands were good. His fingers were nice. No complaints at all. But you wanted more.

Joe stilled when you pulled him out of his boxers. Pushed them down a little to reveal all of him.

"Are you–..." Joe whispered, and it was so soft, you could barely hear it over your own breathing.

You were already lining yourself up.

"Wait– are you sure you want– did you– ahmm..." Joe let his head fall back into his pillow and groaned when you used him to rub at yourself. To make yourself feel good a second.

Drove him fucking insane.

You liked that.

Liked how Joe so easily showed you the effect you had on him.

Liked how audible he was when you pressed him there a little harder. Moved him there a little faster. He almost sounded pained.

He started looking more and more like he did that morning when he’d come back from his run.

“Are you sure?” you teasingly asked when you moved him to where he could slip inside with just a simple thrust of his hips.

Joe made eye-contact and you laughed at the deadpan sarcastic glare you got. Of course he was sure, were you fucking joking?

Your laughter died fast as Joe did exactly what you wanted and pushed up, slipping inside.

“Shit.” You moaned.

“Yea, shit.” Joe confirmed.

And yea.

This could be a new flatmate thing.

Sure.

Riding your flatmate was fine.

So normal.

You cuddled on the sofa and had pizza together because it brought the both of you comfort.

And this brought comfort all the same, didn’t it?

Made your legs cramp a bit quicker, sure, but intimacy was intimacy and if you both liked it, then why not?

What was stopping you?

Joe came first.

Gargled, “Oh fuck!” before pulling you up to free himself, and it fucking went everywhere.

His fault, he panted, followed by a quick apology. He shouldn’t have held onto your waist to keep you in place and shouldn’t have started thrusting up into you like a fucking animal, he explained.

You didn’t mind.

Joe coming first didn’t feel like a mistake.

It was actually kind of hot that he got so into it that he couldn’t hold it back any longer. Maybe not the sperm exploding over fucking everything, but you knew Joe didn’t think this flatmate activity was done until you’d orgasmed as well. That was how it had worked up until then, anyway.

You expected him to maybe get his hands in between your legs, and you were already sort of moving into a position to make that easy work for him, but then Joe surprised you when he said, “Go get your toy.”

You froze and looked at him.

“No?” he asked when he saw your face.

“I– What? Have you snooped–... wait. Do not answer that.”

Joe had never snooped. Wasn’t a snooper. He still didn’t know where most the things in your kitchen were kept.

That meant that he’d heard it.

Mortifying.

But there was no time to feel mortified.

Joe nodded his head towards your room, casually said “Go get it, let me play.”

And, okay. Fine.

Joe was allowed to play.

Twice.

Joe got to play twice.

He pushed for a third time, but you had to put your foot down. Had to push his arms away from you pleadingly.

Too much.

Good though.

This was definitely going to be a new flatmate thing. You’d personally see to it. Surely, Joe was on the same page.

You got a kiss to a sweaty temple and were instructed to put that toy back, go for a wee, have a sip of water, and come back to bed.

You did as you were told, body still buzzing when you got back in between his covers where you saw Joe reach for his phone and set an alarm.

Half 6.

“Are you going to get up early to feel ‘useful first thing’ again?” you joked, moving your hair to where it wouldn’t hurt when you lied down on Joe’s pillow.

Joe huffed a laugh and placed his phone on his bedside table before saying, “If I were, would you join me?”

“No.” you simply said as Joe turned around and pulled you closer. “But change it to a walk, and it’s a strong maybe from me.”

Joe cuddled up close and used his nose to push at your cheek until there was enough space there for him to burrow into your neck.

“No, you’re the worst to go on walks with,” he mumbled all close to your ear.

That tickled you, and you giggled as you acted outraged. “What?”

“You have zero spatial awareness,” said the boy who was giving you zero personal space at the moment. “You keep bumping into me every four steps, it’s so annoying.”

You laughed and tried pushing him away, but it only made him burrow deeper.

It was quiet for a second then.

Just his breathing in your ear.

Darkness surrounded you and, shit, it was so nice to have an arm over your waist. A leg pushed in between yours. You never wanted to sleep alone again.

Maybe you could just turn your room into a huge walk-in wardrobe.

Or an office.

Joe could read scripts and practice lines in there, and then this bedroom wouldn’t have clothes all over the floor like it did now.

Maybe you’d talk about it tomorrow.

You felt like you’d made a good attempt at communication today.

Baby steps, you know?

“Well,” you whispered, ready to let yourself drift off into a deep sleep. “Enjoy your run all alone by yourself, then, loser. Good night.”

You felt Joe’s stomach tense with silent laughter as he squeezed you even closer to him. You used a lone finger to trail soft lines up and down the arm that held you. It took mere seconds for you to feel how it gave him goosebumps there.

It was disgusting how you were about to fall asleep with a smile plastered onto your face.

Absolutely vile.

You fucking loved it.

“M’not going for a run,” Joe then replied on the back end of a sigh, of a sleepy satisfied hum, words slightly slurry with how close to falling asleep he already was.

This was the good stuff.

All warm.

All cosy, toasty and so stupidly comfortable.

His face in your neck and your body surrounded by all of his.

Sheer bliss.

“I’m moving tomorrow.”

---

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