#Joseph Quinn leonard bast

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Joseph Quinn Interview.

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The Joseph Quinn Cinematic Universe

Which one is your favourite 💕

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Leonard Bast gifs 2/? it's like he stepped right out of a painting part 2

[eddiesvixen]

happy birthday to the prettiest boy in the universe

[kassy-djoquinn]

leonard bast would have been a proud member of the tortured poets department

[fyeaheddiemunson]

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Joseph Quinn as Leonard Bast in “Howards End”

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JOSEPH QUINN as LEONARD BAST HOWARDS END (2017)

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(most of my fics are CC x OFC unless otherwise stated)

Tom Grant (Make Up)

Winter Light (AO3): angst, slow burn, sickfic, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 5 chapters + optional epilogue, 14.8k

Arthur Havisham (Dickensian)

The Road Forgotten (AO3): angst, slow burn, fix-it, post-canon, revenge, non-explicit smut | 14 chapters, 42.7k

Irresistibly Contagious (AO3): sequel to "The Road Forgotten", Christmas fic, fluff, found family | One-shot, 7k

Billy Knight (Lethal White/Strike)

The Quiet Chaos (AO3): angst, slow burn, developing relationship, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 10 chapters, 36.2K

The Simple Thought of You (AO3): sequel to "The Quiet Chaos", angst, childfree, proposal, non-explicit smut | 3 chapters, 9.2k

Ralph (Timewasters)

All Our Yesterdays (AO3): friends-to-lovers, slow burn, a bit of angst, time travel, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 14 chapters, 53.8k

Come, You Spirits (AO3): sort-of-sequel to "All Our Yesterdays", fluff, funny, spooky, established relationship | One-shot, 4.6k

Time Out in the Upside Down (AO3): "Stranger Things" x "Timewasters" crossover, funny | One-shot, 1.8k

Leonard Bast (Howards End)

Through the World's Far Ends (AO3): Leonard x Helen fix-it, World War I, angst, hurt/comfort | One-shot, 7.2k

Prince Paul (Catherine the Great)

The Firebird (AO3): fairytale AU, magic, adventure, slow burn, non-explicit smut | 16 chapters, 66.7k

Michael (Hoard)

Love, If You're Near (AO3): angst, hurt/comfort | One-shot, 6.8k

Derwin Grunauer (Overlord)

As the Sun Will Rise (AO3): post-WWII, Beauty and the Beast retelling, friends to lovers, non-explicit smut | 21 chapters, 82.3k

Emperor Geta (Gladiator 2)

Fallen Empires (WIP): canon divergent, alternate history, slow burn | 20 chapters, ~70k

Hellcheer Masterlist

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MY FAVORITE OUTFIT REPEATER

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JOSEPH QUINN as LEONARD BAST in Howard's End

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Leonard Bast gifs 3/?

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edit by @/joeqvn on tiktok

future emmy, oscar, golden globe winner joseph quinn🏆

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Sweet Tooth, Sweetheart: Prologue ♡

Summary: Leonard has trouble leaving his favorite bakery, but bumps into you on the way out. Pairings: Leonard Bast x baker!fem!reader Word Count: 998 ✎ A/N: First fic & post EVER! Nervous posting this, but this is an AU with Lenny. Nothing mentioned w/ reader's appearance (i think). Work in Progress, support & constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! <3

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There was a monotonous normalcy to the life of Leonard Bast. Nothing ever happened, whether good or bad. His days always followed a tedious cycle: wake up, go to work, eat dinner, and sleep. After all, he never had time for anything else with his open-to-close printing job. The printing company he worked for was, in truth, quite harsh. Long hours, inadequate pay, and dreadful service from the higher-ups. There was much to complain about—almost too much.

So often did his coworkers invite him to hang out, and so often did he make flimsy excuses. He had only one space he liked- The Rustic Oven. This old bakery downtown was where he had found himself. If you were lucky and on your way to work, you might catch the breeze wafting the smells and scents of the sweet loaves of bread, the aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls, the saccharine cakes, and muffins. However, this could also be a curse, making you hungrier than you were before. But if you had the time to step inside, you would feel comfortable. The walls were a soothing cream color, and the accented walls behind the counters were adorned with delicate rose-patterned wallpaper. There were a few tables for two- and one particular spot that called Leonard’s name. It was a small nook that had practically become his sanctuary, his spot. He always frequented and always got a warm greeting from Dorothy, the owner. As she approached retirement, it became apparent that this bakery was much older than he was. He wondered who would be taking her place, who would be taking charge. He grew uncommonly anxious, worried that the mystery hire wouldn’t be the same as his beloved Dorothy. Of course, they wouldn’t—no one could measure up to his Dorothy! Nobody could create pastries, bread, cakes, cookies, or macarons like her!

“I’m really sorry, Leonard, but I have to close up, which means I have to kick ya to the streets.” Dorothy’s wavering voice interrupted his thoughts, her wrinkled hand resting on his shoulder, a testament to her lifelong dedication here. He realized she could finally relax once Leonard left. “…right. My apologies for… overstaying.” He was reluctant; he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want things to change. Yet, change was always inevitable. So was life; one had to live it to get anywhere. “Oh! Darling, here… for being such a loyal customer.” She offered him the leftover sweets. “Take your pick. It’s on the house.” The woman smiled warmly, pleased to offer, happy to retire, yet weary at the thought of actually leaving. It was a bittersweet moment for them both. 

It was inevitable, as time was a merciless metronome, relentlessly ticking away and destroying happy moments in its wake. The sun was bound to set soon, so she had to be on her way. “Come now, don’t gawk, dearie!” Her smile beckoned him closer, and he fell for it. “You…really don’t have to, Miss Easton.” 

“How many times have I told you, Leonard? It’s Dorothy. You call my granddaughter that when she comes in.” Granddaughter? “Granddaughter?” He echoed the word that reverberated in his mind. “Granddaughter, yes. My daughter’s daughter. Now come ‘ere.” Leonard finally listened. “She’ll be taking charge, she will. Efficient and happy to do it. A good girl. You’ve seen her before, haven’t ya?”

As your grandmother vividly described you, bagging his cakes, Leonard recalled seeing you work a few times just as vividly as her description. He remembered because of how much you stood out to him. You were ethereal in his eyes. Your complexion, your features, your voice—and, if he may be a man for a moment—your figure. Every bit of you absolutely captivated him. He found himself almost thanking the stars above for his loneliness, but then he remembered his other circumstances: his wealth, or rather, his lack thereof. This was the main issue that drove women away from him. He could support no one but himself and was struggling to gain any promotions. His daydreams and cake-picking were interrupted once again as you were further talked about.

“You’ll be alright, Lenny boy. This place won’t crumble to pieces, I promise you that. She’s a good lass; she’ll treat this place right with care.” Dorothy tried to comfort him as she rounded the counter, never quite understanding why he seemed to care so much or why he fussed over everything. Taking a sharp breath, he nodded and embraced Dorothy one last time. “Thank you for creating such a comforting place…” he said, the entire moment feeling bittersweet. He slowly moved away from her, reluctant to go. If not now, when? “Be sure to keep in touch, though, alright?” Leonard suggested, offering a soft smile as he grabbed his top hat and umbrella while opening the door, and bumping into a lovely young lady reaching for the same handle.

“Oh, my apologies, Miss—” it was you. His heart stopped; at least, he swore it did.  

“Oh—” your ornate umbrella fell from your grasp. He was swift to get it for you. “Here. My apologies again, miss… Enjoy your retirement, Dorothy!” he exclaimed, his cheeks slightly flushed. Before you could respond about the umbrella, he ran into the rain, leaving no further words. He would realize it when he tried to use it, wouldn’t he?

He stepped onto the concrete sidewalk, rushing himself away from the bakery. He knew that if he didn't leave, he wouldn’t dare to dream of—

His umbrella wasn't this fragile. It wasn't laced, it wasn't embellished. But the one in his hands was. What a fool he felt like. Or… was this hidden luck? A blessing in disguise, perhaps... He would have to return it, wouldn't he? Someday soon, perhaps tomorrow. Maybe in exchange for a croissant, a scone, or a biscuit. Some tea…? No, that was too ambitious.

He would need to see you again soon; after all, you needed your umbrella. This one couldn’t work for him.

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