#Joseph Quinn rpf

[lovejosephquinn]

I LOVE your little instagram/text posts for Joe and was wondering if you could do a little bts of the gladiator post with him in costume as Geta!

thank you my lovely, it requires some research let me tell you.

i would be absolutely happy too! enjoy💛

[whatsupsonnyboy]

Drunk in my mind | Joseph Quinn (part II)

PAIRING: Joseph Quinn x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Joe and you (actress!reader) met during the filming of a romantic thriller, you two struggle to keep your undeniable chemistry professional. But when intimate scenes push your limits, the line between acting and reality begins to blur.

wc: 5.1K

warning: fluff, slow burn, co-stars to friends, friends to lovers, mentions of sex, swearing, overthinking, angst

a/n: sooo here its part II for drunk in my mind, it's kind of angsty soooorry, i just cant help writing messy Joe, its absolutely captivating for me idk. Hope you enjoy this one (plus, there's obviously gonna be a next and least part)

Feedback is welcomed <3

request are open  | masterlist

part I | part II | part III

Joe barely slept. Again.

He had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, thoughts running in circles, replaying every word, every second of last night’s disaster. He had hurt you. That was the only thing that mattered. He hadn’t meant to, not in a million years, but that didn’t change the fact that he had. And now, there was no way to fix it. Not when today was another workday. Not when the only thing he could do was push through, pretend nothing had happened, and get this over with.

The worst part was knowing that you would be there. That he wouldn’t be able to avoid you. That he wouldn’t even be able to talk to you properly—because how could he? What could he say? Sorry I shut you out? Sorry I ruined everything? Sorry I want you so much it’s ruining me?

No. It didn’t matter. None of it did. The only thing that mattered was getting through the next few hours without making things worse. The only way to do that was to switch off, keep his head down, and be professional. That’s what he told himself as he got up, showered, and got dressed. That’s what he repeated in his head all the way to the set. That’s what he told himself when he saw you.

You were already there, talking to the intimacy coordinator, going through notes, nodding at whatever Edith was saying. Your body language was careful, measured. Professional. You didn’t even glance in his direction.

Joe forced himself to look away, to keep walking. No lingering glances. No hesitations. No what ifs.

Just work.

The scene was unavoidable. Production had no choice but to pick up where they left off.

A love scene. One of the love scenes. The one that was supposed to be raw, desperate, consuming. The one that should have felt like two people unable to stay away from each other any longer.

Instead, it felt impossible.

Joe was hyper-aware of you. Every movement, every breath. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let it show, that he would be professional, but as soon as the cameras rolled, he felt the hesitation. The way his hands hovered for a second longer before touching you. The way he stiffened when he should have softened.

“Cut.” Mark’s voice rang out almost immediately.

Joe exhaled sharply, stepping back. He didn’t dare look at you.

“Alright,” Mark sighed, rubbing his forehead. “We need more… connection. More need between you two.”

Joe nodded, forcing a tight-lipped smile. More connection. If only they fucking knew.

They went again. And again. And again.

Each take was just as difficult as the last. Every time Joe’s hands traced your skin, every time your breath mixed with his, it felt like walking a tightrope. It wasn’t just awkwardness—it was something else, something dangerous. Like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing one wrong step would send them both crashing down.

By the fourth take, something shifted.

Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was the sheer force of muscle memory, maybe it was the fact that neither of them could afford to keep messing this up. But suddenly, the scene started to flow.

Joe stopped overthinking. He stopped hesitating. He let himself sink into it, into you.

And for a moment—just a moment—it didn’t feel like acting.

It felt real. The heat. The pull. The way his hands gripped your waist, the way your fingers tangled in his hair.

And that was the problem.

Because for a split second, Joe forgot. Forgot the cameras, the script, the fact that this was a scene and not something he could actually claim as his own. It was the way your body pressed into his, the way your breath hitched against his lips—it was everything. Too much.

Panic hit him like a train.

His body betrayed him first, his muscles tensing, his pulse hammering against his throat. His fingers curled involuntarily, his grip on you momentarily faltering before he forced himself to let go. He stepped back too fast, severing the connection in a way that felt brutal.

"Fuck, sorry," he muttered, already distancing himself, already forcing his mind into lockdown.

But it was too late.

The moment was gone. The scene was ruined.

The set was dead silent, and the weight of everything—everything that had just happened—pressed heavily on both of you. Joe’s eyes flitted to the floor, unable to meet yours, his breath shallow as though he’d just been caught in the act of something unspeakable. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. Your body felt stiff, frozen in place as you stared at him, but inside, it was all unraveling.

It wasn’t just about the scene. It was about everything that had been building up, the tension that had been hanging between you two for so long. And then, in that moment, everything felt more complicated than it ever had before. You’d crossed a line. He had crossed it. Neither of you had intended it, but there it was, unspoken yet undeniable.

“Fuck,” Joe said again, quieter this time, almost as if to himself. His hands fidgeted, as if they didn’t know where to go. He was torn between apologizing again or pretending it hadn’t just happened. His whole posture was tense, defensive, like a man on the edge of a breakdown.

You weren’t sure what to feel, how to react. Everything in you wanted to lash out, to scream at him for doing this to you, for making you feel something you shouldn’t feel in the middle of all this. But nothing came out. No words. No anger. Just confusion.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

Joe didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of apology and frustration, like he wanted to say so much more but couldn’t. Finally, he took a deep breath, looking like he was preparing to speak but unsure what words would make it better.

Mark’s voice broke through the tension. "Cut!" he called, clearly frustrated by the pause. “We need a break. Everyone, take five.”

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t look at Joe without feeling your chest tighten, your breath coming in short bursts. He had pulled away so quickly, as if the moment had disgusted him. And maybe it had. But why had it happened in the first place?

The space between you had never felt so vast. And it wasn’t just the physical distance. It was something far more complicated. The emotional distance. The boundaries you’d been trying to ignore for so long had suddenly slammed into reality.

Joe didn’t move, didn’t say anything more. He stood there, staring at the floor, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. He focused on breathing, on grounding himself, on pretending that the past two minutes hadn’t just thrown him into complete fucking turmoil. He couldn’t afford this. He couldn’t let this happen.

Not again.

He heard your footsteps behind him, hesitant. Maybe you were about to say something, maybe you were about to ask if he was okay—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t look at you, couldn’t meet your eyes and risk unraveling completely. So he took a step further away, putting more space between you, a boundary neither of you had needed before.

The silence stretched on until it became unbearable. The set felt colder, more sterile, and the walls between you felt thicker than ever. 

“Five more minutes,” he said, his tone flat, detached. “We need five minutes, and then we’re finishing this.”

You didn’t know what to say. The words didn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. But you couldn’t let the scene stay ruined. You couldn’t let it fall apart because of this. You had a job to do.

With a stiff nod, you turned away from him, walking towards the side of the set where they were setting up for the next shot. Joe didn’t follow, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back.

The five minutes passed in silence. You barely moved, barely thought. You just breathed, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to block out the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

Joe squared his shoulders, forcing every ounce of emotion out of his system. When he turned back, he wasn’t Joe anymore—he was his character, detached, composed, ready to finish what he had started. 

The second take began.

And this time, he made sure it was nothing more than a performance.

Joe came back to his position, his face set, his eyes distant. He was a professional, and he was determined to keep it that way, no matter what it cost him. He stayed rigid, focused entirely on the task at hand, keeping his distance. The touch, the heat, the closeness, all of it—he forced it all out of his mind.

You did the same.

And somehow, the scene went on. He acted, and you did too. Every movement was calculated, each touch forced, but the cameras were rolling, and the show had to go on. There was no room for mistakes now.

As the scene finished, the tension in the air was palpable. Mark called cut, and everyone immediately scattered, avoiding eye contact, not wanting to acknowledge the unspoken tension that still hung between you and Joe.

He didn’t speak to you. Neither did you. There was nothing left to say.

-

You had never felt the weight of silence quite like this.

The distance wasn’t just physical—it was everywhere. In the moments between takes, in the breaks that used to be filled with effortless conversation, in the absence of his presence when you turned your head expecting to find him watching.

Because that’s what Joe used to do.

He used to sit behind the camera when it was your turn to film, watching, always watching. You’d grown used to it, to that silent but constant support, the way his presence felt like an anchor amidst the chaos of filming. But today, his chair was empty. He had scenes of his own to shoot, yes—but that had never stopped him before.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Maybe this was for the best. But the ache in your chest told a different story.

It was pathetic, really, the way you kept looking for him. How you still expected to turn a corner and see him waiting, how you half-expected him to fall into step beside you between scenes, making some dry comment about the ridiculousness of whatever you had just filmed.

But he wasn’t there. And you hated how much you noticed.

It was infuriating, this version of Joe you were seeing now. The cold professionalism. The single-minded focus. Like nothing that had happened between you mattered at all. Like you weren’t worth even a fraction of the consideration he had so easily given before.

Maybe that was the worst part—not just the absence, but the realization that you had been wrong about him.

You had believed he was different. That he was kind, thoughtful, the kind of person who cared about more than just the job. But maybe that was just another illusion. Maybe he was no different from every other actor who smiled for the cameras and left the wreckage behind when the scene was over.

And maybe that was on you.

Because you should have known better. You should have kept your distance, maintained the boundaries that would have made this easier. But you hadn’t. You had let yourself trust him, let yourself believe that whatever had been growing between you was real. And now, you were paying the price.

The worst part?

He wasn’t.

Joe was moving on like nothing had happened. Like you were nothing more than another scene, another line to be delivered and discarded.

And that? That hurt more than anything.

- 

Joe had told himself—convinced himself—that this was for the best. That if he kept his distance, if he forced himself to be professional, to be cold, then maybe things would settle. Maybe the weight in his chest would lessen. Maybe he’d stop wanting you so fucking much.

But it hadn’t worked.

If anything, it made it worse.

The absence of you was unbearable. The silence, the lack of your voice filling the gaps between takes, the missing glances you used to share—it all felt like a punishment. And he knew he deserved it. But fuck, it was getting harder to breathe.

You weren’t just keeping your distance—you were freezing him out. Completely. And he couldn’t blame you. He had drawn the first line. He had built the first wall. But he never expected you to build one even higher, even thicker, impenetrable in a way that made his chest ache.

Days passed, and the realization settled like lead in his stomach.

He had been selfish.

At first, his fear had been simple: that you didn’t feel the same. That this pull between you was something he had imagined, exaggerated in his mind. That maybe you were just friends, that maybe he was just another coworker to you.

But then, he saw the way he had hurt you. Saw the anger in your eyes, the disappointment, the pain. And it hit him like a fucking freight train.

Of course, you had felt it too.

And instead of talking about it, instead of giving you the chance to decide what to do with those feelings, he had made the decision for both of you.

That was the worst part. The unbearable truth.

He had convinced himself this was for your sake, for the sake of the film, for the sake of professionalism. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. He had done it for himself. To protect his own heart. His own fears.

And now? Now he had no idea how to fix it.

You wouldn’t even look at him anymore. Wouldn’t speak to him unless it was strictly necessary. And even then, your voice was devoid of warmth, clipped and controlled, like you were barely tolerating his presence.

He wanted to fix it.

He just didn’t know if he had the right to.

Because if he had been the one to break everything apart… how the hell was he supposed to ask you to put it back together?

-

Joe had told himself that he could fix this. Maybe not entirely—maybe not in the way he wanted—but at least enough to make things bearable again. He had spent days carrying the weight of his own selfishness, his own fear, and now, faced with the wall you had built between you, he realized something even worse.

He wasn’t the only one who had made a choice. You had, too.

You weren’t playing along anymore. The kindness, the warmth, the easy understanding—you had shut it all off. And why wouldn’t you? He had been the first to pull away, to decide what was best for the both of you, and now you had done the same. Except this time, he was on the receiving end of it, and it fucking hurt.

Still, he had to try.

So he made an effort. Small things at first. Little acknowledgments, nods when you passed by each other, polite comments about the scenes. He didn’t push, didn’t expect anything in return. He was just trying to remind you that he was still here. That he wasn’t avoiding you anymore.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because you weren’t meeting him halfway.

You weren’t cruel, not exactly, but you weren’t letting him in either. When he spoke to you, you answered, but only in clipped, neutral sentences. When you had breaks between scenes, you no longer spent them anywhere near him. And when it came to the actual filming, you were professional—so professional it was almost unbearable.

Joe could handle the distance. What he couldn’t handle was the fact that you wanted it.

And it was fucking up everything.

The more he thought about it, the more distracted he became. He fumbled lines, missed cues, stepped in the wrong place. Tiny, stupid mistakes—mistakes he never made. He could feel the irritation creeping in from the crew, from Mark, from you.

Especially from you.

Your frustration was palpable.

At first, it was just little things—tightened shoulders, tense jaw, the way you let out sharp breaths whenever the scene had to be reset. But then, after the fourth take was ruined because he hesitated before delivering his line, you snapped.

"For fuck’s sake, Joe," you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear. “Can you please focus for once?"

He flinched. Not because of your words, but because of the way they sounded—tired, exasperated, like you were done. Done with him, done with the whole damn thing.

He wanted to apologize, to explain, to say anything to make it better.

But what the fuck was he supposed to say?

That he was exhausted, but not from the long days of shooting? That he had spent every second of the last week thinking about you, about how badly he had handled everything? That standing next to you, knowing he had ruined whatever was between you, made it impossible to focus?

None of that would fix anything.

So instead, he swallowed it down. Forced himself to breathe. Forced himself to focus.

And when the cameras rolled again, he delivered the line.

Perfectly.

Because if there was one thing he could still do, one thing he had left, it was pretending.

- 

You didn’t have to look at him to know when he entered the set. You felt it. The weight of his presence, heavier than before. It was as if he’d been trying—no, he had been trying, and that was what pissed you off even more. You hadn’t wanted to see it, hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, but you knew he had been doing his damned best to be cordial, to rebuild whatever mess of a relationship you had left.

The tension between you two had been thick, but you kept your eyes fixed on your script. You forced your body to stay rigid, not even glancing in his direction. His attempts to be professional, to give you a nod or some small, respectful gesture, didn’t go unnoticed. And it annoyed you to no end.

He had been the one who messed this up. He had been the one to pull away. And now, after all that, he expected you to just... let it slide? No. Not this time. Not after everything. You had built walls higher than you ever thought you could, and there was no way in hell you were letting them crumble so easily. Not for him.

As the scenes had unfolded, the weight of the unfinished tension from the past days had pressed down on you, turning every moment into a battle to maintain composure. He’d been trying, you could tell—he’d been trying so hard to fix things, to show that he cared—but all you felt was a cold bitterness creeping in. He didn’t get it, did he? He’d thought he could just pick up the pieces and act like nothing had ever happened. Like everything had been fine now just because he suddenly cared.

You had watched him stumble through his lines. His movements had been all off, as if he hadn’t been quite present, as if his mind had been somewhere else. It had been infuriating. Why did he have to make everything so difficult now? Didn’t he see that you were the one trying to push through this, that you were the one who just wanted to get through it without falling apart?

Every time he misplaced his mark or hesitated on his lines, you felt your frustration boil. You couldn’t help but sigh loudly, a sharp exhale through your nose that was loud enough for him to hear. You didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted. If he had cared about this as much as he said, he wouldn’t have been falling apart like this. It was like you were filming with a stranger—someone who didn’t even have the decency to put in the effort.

His eyes had darted to yours, and there had been that brief flash of guilt, of self-awareness, but it had only made you angrier. He had been doing this on purpose, hadn’t he? Trying to make you feel something again, trying to bridge the gap you had both built, but you hadn’t been interested in falling for that. Not now. Not after everything.

As the day had dragged on, you had begun to realize just how tired you were. Tired of the tension. Tired of him. Tired of pretending that you weren’t dying inside, that you weren’t resentful of every moment you had to spend in this space with him. He’d been messing up more than ever, and it had been hard to watch and even harder to ignore.

But even worse had been that little voice in the back of your head, the one that still cared, that still wanted to reach out. You hated it. You despised it. But no matter how hard you had tried to shut it up, it had lingered there, mocking you, making you wish for a simpler time when things hadn’t felt so complicated.

But then, after the fourth take had been ruined because he had hesitated before delivering his line, you had been done.

You had thrown your hands up in frustration, your voice snapping as you muttered, "For fuck’s sake, Joe, can you please focus for once?"

He had flinched. But it hadn’t been the words that had hit him—it had been the tone. The weariness in it. The frustration. You hadn’t even realized how much of it had seeped into your voice. You had felt a little bad, but not enough to stop the words from coming out. He had made this hard for you. So why shouldn’t you make it hard for him, too?

He hadn’t said anything, though you could feel the tension in the air. You had known he had been wrestling with something, but what could he possibly say? It wouldn’t have mattered, would it? You hadn’t wanted to hear any explanations, hadn’t wanted any half-hearted apologies. You were past that. You had just wanted to finish the scene, finish the day.

You saw him there, standing still, like he was trying to pull himself together, but you couldn’t figure out what he was doing. He seemed lost, but what could he possibly be struggling with? Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe you were just overthinking it.

But then, as the cameras started rolling again, he took a breath. You watched him steady himself, as if he was trying to shut everything else out. And when he spoke—when he nailed that line, just like nothing had happened—you felt your chest tighten.

As the final scene wrapped, you gathered your things, moving quickly, not wanting to linger. You could feel his presence behind you before you even heard him step closer.

“Hey,” Joe’s voice was tentative, careful, like he was testing the waters. "Sorry I kept messing the scene up. It 's been hard to focus lately"

You didn’t turn around. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking him in the eye. The tightness in your chest felt unbearable, but you weren’t about to let him see it. What was he exactly doing? What did he pretend?

“Yeah… it’s okay, Joe,” you said flatly, your voice colder than you wanted. You didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to feel the tug of something still there when all you could think about was escaping. "See you." 

You could hear him hesitate, then take a step back. And even though you felt a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe pain—you didn't care. Not enough to turn around. You didn’t want to give him a chance, you weren’t feeling like talking.

Despite everything, despite your anger and the wall you had built, a part of you still ached when you saw him looking at you like he was genuinely trying. Like he wanted to fix things. But no. You wouldn’t let him. Not then. Not after what he had done. So you turned away, and the emotional distance felt as real as the physical one that had been between you two for days.

You wanted it to be over. You wanted it to end. You wanted the tension to disappear, but you were afraid that if you gave him an inch, he’d tear down everything you’d worked to build. So you kept your distance. You kept your anger. And maybe, just maybe, you’d get through it without losing yourself.

- 

You had known this scene was coming. You had read it a hundred times, rehearsed it in your head, told yourself it was just another day at work.

It was a fight. A breaking point. The moment where your characters—two people caught in an inevitable downward spiral—finally let the dam burst. It was raw, emotional, the kind of scene designed to leave a mark.

But nothing could have prepared you for how it would actually feel.

It started fine. You exchanged the first lines with the usual sharpness, slipping into your role with ease. Joe did too, his delivery solid, precise. But then something shifted.

His voice. His expression.

The anger in his eyes wasn’t just acting—it was him.

And suddenly, you weren’t just saying the lines. You were there, locked in an argument that felt too real, too close to everything you had been trying to ignore.

He stepped toward you, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his voice rose. “Don’t do that. Don’t stand there and pretend like it doesn’t matter.”

You felt it—an almost imperceptible tremor in his voice.

It made your pulse stutter.

You forced yourself to hold your ground, to push back like the script demanded. But his energy was suffocating. His eyes burned into you with a desperation that made it impossible to look away.

And then it happened.

His breath hitched. His voice broke.

And a tear slipped down his cheek.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t in the script.

You felt something twist violently in your chest.

Because in that moment, you knew.

This wasn’t just about the scene. This wasn’t just about acting.

He was breaking in front of you.

"Cut!"

The room exhaled all at once. There was a beat of stunned silence, then Mark’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Wow. That is what I wanted to see. That was incredible.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the set—crew members nodding, sharing glances of admiration. Someone clapped Joe on the shoulder.

He barely reacted.

He just stood there, breathing heavily, blinking rapidly like he was trying to pull himself back together.

And all you could do was watch.

Watch as he wiped a hand over his face, as he swallowed hard, as he tried—and failed—to shake it off.

Something inside you cracked.

For days, you had let anger guide you. You had let pride build a wall so high that you convinced yourself it was the right thing to do. You had blamed him. Resented him. Refused to let yourself care.

But looking at him now, hurting in a way that was so real, you realized the truth.

You had been wrong.

Not for being upset. Not for feeling hurt. But for pretending like it didn’t matter.

For acting as if walking away from him was easy, when the truth was—it wasn’t.

Because no matter how much you fought it, no matter how much you wanted to be done, there was one undeniable fact staring you right in the face.

He still mattered to you. More than you had ever been willing to admit.

- 

Joe lay alone in his room, sprawled on the bed after another long day of filming. The scene still echoed in his mind, like a painful reverberation. He felt exposed, vulnerable, embarrassed for having shown so much emotion in front of the entire crew, especially in front of you. Everything he had been avoiding, everything he had repressed, had surfaced. And now, with the knot in his stomach that wouldn’t go away, he knew he couldn’t keep ignoring what he felt.

He felt powerless. He had been unable to make things better between the two of you, and the fear of losing whatever was left of any kind of relationship consumed him. Yet still, he didn’t know how to take the first step. The distance between you two was palpable, his pride wounded, and the fear of being completely rejected paralyzed him.

He closed his eyes, feeling a pressure in his chest. How did it come to this? he asked himself once again. What else can I do if every time I try to get closer, she pushes me away with a coldness that leaves me speechless?

Meanwhile, you walked down the hallway of the set, alone, after another exhausting day of filming. The sound of your footsteps echoed in your mind, but it was the silence around you that made you think the most. At that moment, something shifted. You realized what was happening inside you. For days, you had been looking at Joe as someone who had simply let you down, as a person who had played with your emotions. But now, after that last scene, after seeing him so broken and vulnerable, you realized he had also been suffering—not only because of what had happened between you two but because all of this had affected him deeply.

A strange sense of guilt washed over you. For a moment, the pain and resentment you had kept inside mixed with a new perspective. Why have I been so blind, so determined to protect my pride at all costs? you asked yourself. It hurt more than you expected to see Joe like that, so vulnerable, so real.

You stopped for a moment. You knew you had allowed your own pain to cloud your judgment. All this time, you had been thinking it was only him who had let you down, but the truth was, you had played a part in this too. Maybe it wasn’t the best decision to shut yourself off so much, to hide your feelings behind walls that kept growing taller. Maybe neither of you had been brave enough to face what you were really feeling.

But the truth was that neither of you knew how to take the next step, how to break the silence that had settled between you without everything spiraling out of control again. Joe continued to be tormented by his own fears and lack of courage, while you kept resisting, knowing that opening up wasn’t easy, especially after everything you had been through.

[pinksatinpanties]

PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE ROOM ─ joseph quinn

summary Anyone would kill to play Joseph Quinn's wife on television. Anyone except you.

pairing joseph quinn x actress!reader

wordcount 1.8k

⎯⎯  warning(s)  kissing | dating co-workers | rpf

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Clubs were not your thing. But you were wrapping the first season of the show that gave you your first lead role on everyone’s favorite streaming service alongside 2022’s it-guy - Joseph Quinn. So you understood why this might be a night out that you couldn’t pass on. Even if it did end in disaster, it was a memory begging to be made.

The main cast had agreed on and planned this night out for the past three weeks in the group chat. The destination was a popular speakeasy in New York, the kind you needed a password for and entered through an inconspicuous door hidden behind a dumpster. 

There you sat at the table, forcing the coolest attitude you could conjure sitting across from your TV husband, Joe. In the six months you spent as his TV wife, you couldn’t imagine why everyone was so head over heels for this guy. Sure, he’s handsome and good with fans, but is that all it took? Was the bar truly that low? Your heart cried for women everywhere. 

He could also be kind of cocky and a bit of a smartass. He would make passive aggressive jokes at your expense. Maybe it was some kind of culture thing you weren’t picking up. He was British after all. He kept calling you “Mrs. Henderson” instead of your own, real name after you had asked him multiple times to stop calling you by your character’s married name when you weren’t filming. Then he just began to tease you about it.

“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Henderson.”

“Good to see you, Mrs. Henderson.”

Holly Vanguard made sure to get the seat to Joe’s right, laughing too loudly at all of his dry humor. She even laughed when he wasn’t making jokes. Maybe she was just stuck in character. She played Joe’s secretary on the show. “We’re both British,” she took care to remind you often. “We get each other.” Why Holly excluded your very British TV father from this covenant, you’ll never know. David sat to your left.

Every so often he would reach over and squeeze your hand in reassurance. When you looked over to him, he’d be smiling softly with encouragement in his eyes. You had developed a negative reputation throughout filming the season because you preferred not to agitate your social anxiety by leaving your trailer. David was the only one you had confided in about it after a particularly stressful day on set. You’d heard whispers of your “stuck up attitude” after passing on a previous night out with the cast (which you suspected was started by Holly). You were sure your bickering with Joe when the cameras weren’t rolling hadn’t helped.

This was your first real gig and the circus of it all drove you crazy. There were a lot of politics involved in being part of a cast of public figures. Apparently, people weren’t supposed to disagree with anyone who had more public recognition than you did - especially if that one was GQ’s Man of the Year. You suspected Joe liked your attitude at least a little bit, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Why don’t we play Spin the Bottle?” Holly suggested to the table, giving Joe eyes.

Groans of opposition came from the older cast members and they excused themselves to the dancefloor after everyone had a laugh. And then there were five. You silently wept at the loss of your emotional support TV father.

“In the middle of a pandemic? No,” Jackson shut it down and made a different proposal. “Let’s play a good old-fashioned game of Truth or Dare. But you don’t get to choose either or - the person asking chooses for you. If you refuse a dare or question, you’ve gotta take a shot of tequila.”

“Every 20 minutes, I’ll refuse a question,” Joe declared and slapped a palm onto the table. His dirty martini shook next to the point of impact. 

The group made rounds around the table and when it came to you, you asked Jackson what it was like to be the most fashionable person in the room at all times. 

“Oh my god, finally someone acknowledges my plight. It’s exhausting. I spend all this time planning outfits and looking amazing, but do I get invited to the Met Gala? No. I don’t even get to look at myself all day, everyone else gets to see my color coordination and I have to look at everyone else’s sweatpants and Wallabees. No offense, Joseph,” Jackson said with no remorse.

“That’s fair,” Joe shrugged and smirked.

In the few rounds you all had, you noticed Joe always dared people to do absurd things like pose with the statues in the back of the club and “stay in character” for a full five minutes or take the fish skeleton off of the plate of the table next to them and cuddle it for a full round.

You thought it was sweet that he only came up with dares that wouldn’t inconvenience the staff and other club go-ers or violate anyone’s boundaries while still managing to be funny. He could easily be obnoxious if he wanted to. He’s not so bad, you guessed.

When his fourth turn came around, he broke the pattern. Joe said your name and you prepared to fully commit to whatever zany bit he’d come up with this time, but he said:

“Truth: why don’t you come out with us more often?”

“O-oh,” you blubbered, caught off guard. “I just… I’m not good with crowds.”

“Oh, come on. I want a real answer.”

“That is my real answer. I’d just make a fool of myself. I’m not…”

“You seem to be doing just fine so far.”

“Well, that’s because David-” You turned to look for him and found him attempting a very bad vogue in a small group of younger people. They cheered and let all sorts of onomatopoeia in encouragement. “...was helping.”

“Alright, alright, but if you don’t come out with us next time, I’ll be wounded.” Joe pressed both hands to his pectoral over his heart.

“Next!” Jackson jeered.

“Oh! Would you look at that, it’s my turn!” Holly squealed. You didn’t have the highest opinion of Holly, but the feminist in you refused to dislike her until she committed an actual crime like vehicular manslaughter. Being annoying wasn’t a serious enough offense.

Holly dramatically adjusted herself in her seat to face Joe.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room,” Holly slurred and puckered her glossy lips, tilting forward a bit to display her cleavage. Your stomach dropped. Everyone at the table exchanged glances, wondering if Joe was drunk enough to entertain it.

Joe’s eyelids fluttered and his head tilted as he processed what had been said. Had she really just done that? It was only after his eyes flicked over to you that you became aware of the jealousy on your face. Your recovery was quick, but not quick enough. Hopefully he took it as concern or judgement. He knit his brow and chuckled. Shit.

“You got me,” he surrendered. He grabbed a tequila shot from the tray and chucked the liquor down his throat. He didn’t even make a face. It was kind of sexy. No! It wasn’t. It was most definitely not sexy.

Holly exhaggerated a pout to play off the embarrassment. 

The rest of the night went smoothly. The game had got you loosened up enough to make your way to the dancefloor. Everyone whooped and hollered when you did. 

You couldn’t decide if it was just the liquid courage or if you were actually dancing very well. Your movements felt so fluid and you hit every beat - an uphill battle when you were sober. Judging by everyone’s surprise and the circle that formed around you in the middle of the dancefloor, you’d say your theory was accurate. Who knew the shyest cast member could be such a party animal?

After a verse of the 90s R&B song that was playing, you pointed to the first co-worker you laid eyes on and joined the circle as they took your place. 

…

The group stumbled through the hallways of the hotel at four in the morning, trying to keep the volume at a minimum and failing miserably. Your ears must’ve still been ringing from the club. Everyone was giggling and “SHHHH”-ing and repeating their room number.

“25D… 25, 25, 25…” Alex repeated.

“Shhhhh! We’re still in the under 20s! That’s 12D!” Jackson shouted.

“Both of you shut the fuck up! People are trying to sleep!” David whisper-shouted.

Joe shushed all three of them. 

When all the oversized toddlers were dropped off at their respective rooms, there was only yourself and Joe left. You’d wished you had booked a room further away just to talk to Joe a little longer. He was giggly and flushed from the drinks and you had never seen him so… cute. 

Before you knew it, you had arrived at your hotel room door. 

“Have you got your key?”

“Yeah,” you reached into your bag and retrieved the plastic card, holding it in your hands for a bit too long before looking up at Joe. You didn’t want the night to end. His eyes were glossy and full of - dare you say it - admiration.

“Well, I guess-“ “I think you’re-“

“Oh, sorry.” 

“No, no,” you said. “I, um…”

There was another long pause of sustained eye contact. It should have felt awkward or uncomfortable, but it didn’t. A smile spread across his face. You huffed a smaller laugh and found your own lips spreading. 

“Good night,” he said softly.

“Good night,” you barely whispered.

Joe walked down the hall as you swiped your key and turned the handle.

“Oh,” He muttered and snapped his fingers once.

“I’ve almost forgotten,” Joe called. He jogged back to your door and took your head into his hands. “I owe you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss into your lips. Then another. And another. Before you knew it, you were both nibbling on each others lips and swirling tongues into the other’s mouth. Which should have been raunchy and drunken and a huge mistake, but it didn’t feel like any of those things. He was so gentle and soft with you in a way that no other man had been before. Before you knew it, you were standing there: eyes blissfully closed and lips still slightly parted as Joe floated away from you.

“Good night, Mrs. Henderson,” he purred in that deep, chocolatey voice of his and walked back down the hall, disappearing into the elevator.

You stood there in front of your door for a good thirty seconds before coming back down from your high and slipping into your hotel room, dreaming of the next kiss Joe had in store for Mrs. Henderson. 

[blythsholland]

Joseph Quinn Moodboard

The new pics of him are giving literature profesor, but also a PhD or masters student!

[demonsanddemogorgons]

POV: you're being a brat and Eddie can't decide if he likes it or hates it 🔥

[sweetprfct]

Yes Forever

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe has been giving hints and it's making your heart explode every time.

Author's Note: The bridge of TTPD is to blame for this. Enjoy! :)

Wordcount: 1.9K

You knew you should have seen it coming.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t making it obvious these last few weeks. It wasn’t like his little actions were something he has been hiding. You should have seen it coming, but you didn’t want to expect anything. You didn’t want to hope just in case you were wrong, you know? You didn’t want to feel disappointed if it was just your mind making things up. 

It started off at the night of his movie premiere. You were all dressed up, and Joe couldn’t get his eyes off of you. Though, that wasn’t the thing that stuck out the whole night because Joe always looked at you like that no matter what. He was always telling you how stunning you were and that he was so lucky. The movie premiere went smoothly. You joined him at the red carpet and everyone was so proud about the movie and then, the after party came. You didn’t know if it was Joe having way too many drinks, or your mind was just being delusional. 

You sat next to him in the booth. Joe and his co-stars were laughing talking about a memory from the set, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander somewhere else. It wasn’t like you were bored with their conversations or anything. You were actually enjoying yourself, but it was Joe’s soft touch on your hand under the table that was distracting you so much. 

“You know you should watch out for Joe.” One of his co-stars told you. “I would run off if I still had the chance.” He teased. 

You laughed softly, shaking your head as Joe wrapped an arm around you. His hand softly caressing your arm and his other hand… well… 

It was doing something that was making your heart race. 

Your hand was set on his lap and his index finger was grazing over your bare ring finger. You couldn’t help but purse your lips as you tried to keep your attention on the conversation in front of you. Joe kept that going for the rest of the night, and he didn’t say one word about it when you got home. So, you let the subject go. 

Then, you noticed one night when you were slowly falling asleep on the bed that Joe was just smiling and staring at you. His fingers caressing your soft cheek, while you were fighting hard to keep your eyes open. 

“Hmm…” You smiled, letting out a soft hum. 

“So beautiful.” Joe whispered, kissing your hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Joe.” You smiled, moving closer to him. 

You rested your head on his chest, your fingers finding his as you played with them. Joe then intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand on his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your hand. 

“You have no idea how much you occupy my heart.” Joe said. “It’s all yours, darling. All of it.”

“I love you so much.” You smiled, pressing your face on his neck.

Joe held you tighter in his arms as comfortable silence blanketed the room for a moment. You two never really talked about the subject of it, but you knew there was that mutual understanding between the two of you. You just knew. You both really didn’t have to talk about it because what was there to talk about, right? You both already knew where this was heading. 

“You know, there was no other woman I felt this way about.” Joe murmured. “When I first saw you, I knew in my heart that it was you. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

You hitched a breath as Joe grazed his fingers over your bare ring finger again. You kept your eyes close, face still pressed on his neck. You didn’t know if you could look into his eyes right now. With the words he was speaking, your heart was beating hard out of your chest that you swore he could hear and feel it. 

“Darling?” Joe moved back a little, gazing down at you. 

You kept your eyes shut and stayed still. Joe’s fingers grazed over your cheek again, his lips tugging into a small smile. 

“You’re the love of my life, you know that?” Joe whispered as you fluttered your eyes open. 

You smiled at Joe, glancing up at him and said, “What’s going on, Joe?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve noticed it lately…” You tilted your head at him. 

Joe raised his brow, pretending like he didn’t know what you were talking about. 

“Notice what?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Nevermind.”

Joe reeled you back in his arms, kissing your hair softly. “I just want you to know how much I love you.”

You nodded your head, smiling softly as you set your head back on his chest. You didn’t want to say it first if he couldn’t admit it because you didn’t want to look stupid. Maybe you really were being delusional in the first place. Maybe Joe really was just being sweet and wanted to reassure you of his love. 

That was all. 

You finally let that subject go for a few weeks. It didn’t appear in your thoughts again until that one night when Joe had taken you out for a date night. He had suggested taking you into a nice restaurant since it had been a while since you both had gone out on a date. So, you agreed. You dressed up in a nice pale blue silky dress, and Joe was in a nice button up and trousers. You couldn’t help but run your fingers through his curls the moment you saw him waiting for you by the front door.

Joe hummed approvingly as he set his hands on your hips, pressing your body against his. 

“God, I can never get over how stunning you are.” Joe whispered, kissing down your neck. 

“And I can never get over how handsome you are.” You smiled, feeling his hands gently run down your sides. 

Joe gazed down at you, his eyes sparkling before leaning down to kiss you passionately. Leading you out the door, Joe had taken you to the restaurant that he chose, and it was nice and cozy. You couldn’t help but enjoy this moment with him. It really had been a while since you two had spent time together, especially with both of your busy schedules. 

“I’ve missed this.” You smiled, taking a sip of your wine.

“Me too.” Joe took your hands in his from across the table. “Sorry if I have been so busy, darling.”

“Joe,” You tilted your head at him. “I understand. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I know, but still…” Joe took a deep breath, playing with your fingers. “I want to apologize and want you to know that I love you.”

Squeezing his hand lightly, you gave Joe a warm reassuring smile. “Joe, I know. I love you too.”

Joe smiled slightly, looking down at your fingers. He played with the ring that you had on your middle finger for a moment before slipping it off. You watched as he slid it over to your ring finger and for a moment, you felt your lungs stopped working. You felt your heart almost exploding as Joe smiled slightly before slipping the ring back on your middle finger again. 

“Joe–” You whispered.

“Good evening, I’m Elle. I’ll be your server this evening.” The server stood by your table, giving both of you a genuine smile.

You pulled your hands away from Joe, your index finger and thumb playing with your ring anxiously under the table. Suddenly, the thoughts that you had pushed away from the last few weeks appeared in your mind again. You bit your lower lip, trying to focus your attention back on Joe and the server. You could feel your heart beat a thousand miles per minute, and you didn’t know how to really react with what just happened.

The rest of the night, you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself. You told your mind to be quiet and just enjoy this dinner date with Joe, especially that it had been so long since you both have done this. Joe never mentioned it once during the whole dinner. He acted like nothing happened and what he did was just a normal thing. However, your heart couldn’t fit in your chest anymore. No matter how much you tried to push the thought away, you kept repeating that little scene he did before dinner. 

“Hold on a second, darling.” Joe held your hand before you could open your front door later that evening. 

“What is it?” You turned to face him as he cupped both of your cheeks between his hands.

“I just want to do this.” Joe leaned down to kiss you softly on the lips. 

You chuckled softly, kissing him deeper and pulling him close to you. You wrapped your arms around his neck as Joe continued to kiss you, this time so lovingly and gentle. 

“I love you.” He murmured through the kiss.

You let out a soft hum as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Marry me.” Joe murmured through the kiss. 

You froze for a moment, parting from the kiss as you stared at him with wide eyes. Joe, however, gave you a look that was all so loving. His chocolate button eyes twinkled as he caressed your cheek with his thumb. 

“W…What?” Your words stuttered as you processed what you just heard. 

Joe didn’t say anything as he walked around you and unlocked the front door. He turned to face you again, held out his hand and opened the front door of your flat. You gasped softly as soon as you saw what was behind him. The place was lit by candles and rose petals were laid out all over the floor. 

It was like what you saw in the movies. 

“My love.” Joe took your hand in his as you both entered the flat. 

You swallowed every emotion that was coming up in your throat as you watched Joe’s hand reach for his pocket. Then, he gazed up at you, holding a small red box in his hand, and a smile tugging on his lips as he got down on one knee in front of you.

“Joe, I–” 

“Darling, you knew that the first time I saw you, I knew that you were the one. You make me a better person everyday, and I love you so much. My heart is yours forever. Would you do me the honor to spend the rest of your life with me?”

You gasped softly, both your hands covering your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes. Your heart was racing, and you could barely find words in your mind. 

“Will you marry me?” 

“Yes.” You smiled as you helped Joe get up from the floor. “A thousand times yes. Yes to forever with you. Yes to everything with you.”

Joe grinned happily as he took the ring from the box and slid it on your ring finger before reeling you into his arms and kissed you passionately. Everything almost felt unreal as you kissed him back. 

“I love you.” You murmured, smiling happily.

You have never felt this happy before. Your heart was exploding in happiness as Joe kissed you again and held you in his arms. A big wide grin on his face, tears welling up in his eyes the moment he parted from the kiss.  

“I love you.” Joe whispered, embracing you. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stared into his eyes, happiness radiating from the both of you. 

With Joe, it was always going to be yes. 

Forever.

The End.

**********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf

[itsonlyjoseph]

The First Time You Met | Joseph Quinn x Reader

synopsis: short one-shot of meeting Joe at the pub

warnings: None, English jargon

word count: 1.5k

.

.

.

You were sat at your desk working quietly when your co worker knocked on the wood as if it was a door, getting your attention easily.

“What are you doing tonight?” She asked you.

“Uh, nothing I guess. Go home, open a bottle of wine and watch the telly til I fall asleep.” You smiled up at her, as if that was the high life.

“Oh come on, it’s Friday. Come out for once.” She practically pleaded with you.

“I don’t know. I’d have to get home and change and then come back in. Where do you even want to go?”

“You don’t have to go crazy, we’re only gonna’ be at the Churchill.”

You thought for moment. You hadn’t been out with your friends in a while and you definitely needed a break.

Your vibrator needed a break.

The Churchill Arms was a lowkey pub that didn’t require you to dress up too much. In fact, you’d look a bit silly if you did.

“I guess I can come.” You mumbled.

Eleanor, your co worker, squealed at your agreement and gave you a tight hug around the shoulders.

“Oh, my god, yes! This is gonna’ be so much fun. We haven’t seen you out in actual months.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t been that long.”

“It has.”

You narrowed your eyes up at her in a mock offence.

“We’re heading over right after work so make sure you’re ready.”

“Okay…” you mumbled as she walked off.

You liked your friends and you liked going out, but you also like going home, putting on your big socks and getting under a fuzzy blanket with the fireplace going.

You weren’t a loner or anything, you were just comfortable being single and having no responsibilities other than yourself.

You’d made it this far alone and you were proud of yourself. It felt good to do whatever you wanted and eat whatever you wanted for tea and decorate your house however you wanted.

Something you never admitted, however, is sometimes on very rare occasions, you did feel a bit bored or lonely when you had no one to talk to about your day or your nightmares or the latest film you just watched.

Soon, five o’clock rolled around and you packed up your things and haphazardly shoved them into your purse, walking down to the lobby to meet the others. You were wearing your typical work clothes. Casual, black knitted jumper and brown plaid trousers with some maroon Mary Jane ballet flats that cost more than you should’ve paid.

Luckily for you, your place of work was very casual and easy going but “casual and easy going” in London probably meant something different to the rest of the world.

The pub was already relatively busy considering it was a Friday night but not so busy that it was practically a nightclub. This is how you liked it.

You got a table close to the back and sat as one of your other co workers went to the bar to get the first round. The atmosphere was easy going and after a short while, you felt yourself actually really having fun. The conversation flowed easily. You’d poked fun at your bosses and horrible clients, talked about upcoming projects, talked about guys (much to the dismay of the lone male co worker amongst the group), and everything in between.

After the third round of lager was brought back to the table, Eleanor leaned over to speak quietly to you.

“I don’t want to alarm you but there’s a really cute guy looking at you.” She giggled.

You rolled your eyes and paid no mind to her. Like you said before, you were quite content being a singleton.

“No really, I think you should probably chat to this one.”

You decided to entertain her and turned your head to this alleged man checking you out.

You made eye contact and felt your breath get sucked out of your lungs.

That’s fucking Joseph Quinn, you thought.

You turned back to Eleanor with a somewhat dumbfounded look on your face to see her clearly excited one.

“I doubt he is looking at me of all people.” You said, taking a large gulp of your pint.

“Dude, he’s not stopped looking at you. Even when you went up to the bar.”

“Surely not.” You were suddenly ten times more shy than before.

“Surely yes, go talk to him!” Eleanor urged. The rest of the group was completely oblivious to your conversation, too engrossed in their own. Not that you minded.

“I can’t just go talk to the Joseph Quinn you idiot. I’ll choke and trip and just make a fool of myself in someway.”

“No you won’t. You’re always so hard on yourself.”

You were now very aware of the celebrity and it was making you feel small… and hot.

“Okay I have an idea. Take a deep breath, glance over and smile and then grab your coat and go for a fag. See if he follows.”

“This is so stupid.” You said, taking a deep breath. Obviously you knew who Joseph Quinn was. You never really gave it much thought but definitely thought he was attractive, just like every one else.

“Just do it!”

“Fine!” You gritted through closed teeth.

You took the last gulp of lager and grabbed your coat, walking towards the beer garden, but not before shooting him your best smile you could muster up.

Your eyes connected for a brief moment and you felt your spine tingle.

The air outside was chillier than when you’d arrived at 6pm.

You leaned against the brick wall and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Even though Eleanor had practically kicked you outside, you would’ve stepped out for a smoke at one point or another.

You were outside for about two minutes alone with the other drunks when the back door opened and out stepped Joseph. You could tell it was him even through your peripheral. He just had aura about him.

Slowly walking over to you, he pulled out his own smoke to pop between his lips.

“Hi.” He said with a sweet, bashful look.

“Hey.” You smiled shyly.

“Do you mind if I pinch your lighter?”

You didn’t say anything, just shyly getting your zippo out of your pocket and flicking it open, igniting the end of his cigarette and ignoring the thumping in your chest.

“Thanks.” He said, moving his head back slightly and taking a long draw.

There was short silence between the two of you until he spoke up again.

“I’m Joe, by the way.” You smiled down at you.

Wow, he was incredibly attractive this close.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated, not breaking eye contact. “What do you do, Y/N?”

“I work in television, actually.”

“Oh really? That’s really cool. So do I.” He seemed rather excited.

“Yeah, I know.” You giggled.

“Yeah, I figured you probably did. I guess anonymity isn’t really an option for me anymore.” Joe seemed rather tense now. Perhaps he was hoping you didn’t know who he was and he’d have a real conversation for once.

“Probably not. But hey, it’s not like I’ve never been around a famous person before. I do work in television after all.” You reassured.

“So what exactly do you do in television.” He asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I’m a production manager.”

“Oh wow, what have you worked on?” Joe asked you, gazing down at you.

“Uh, I worked on Fleabag, Broadchurch, a show called Sherwood. Couple things like that.” You began to get shy again. Here you were, telling a famous actor about your boring job, probably the pants back on him.

“What do you have to do exactly when you work on a show?”

“Well, I basically organise location, actors, crew, funding, marketing, all that sort of stuff…” you began to explain and Joseph looked actually genuinely interested. This never usually happened. Whenever your friends dragged you out and you began chatting to a guy, he always seemed so bored when you spoke about your job.

Not Joe, though. He was listening intently and asking actual questions and sometime during the time you’d been speaking, you both stubbed out your cigarettes and he’d stepped closer to you.

You only realised how long you’d been talking when Eleanor popped her head out to tell you they were leaving now.

“Oh, uh yeah. I’ll be right there.” You said to her before turning back to Joe.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise how late it had gotten.” You smiled.

“Yeah, neither.” He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I actually had a really good time talking to you, though.” You said sincerely.

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled back.

There was a beat silence as the two of you just looked at each other. You gave him one last smile and turned to walk back inside to your friends, silently praying that he’d ask for your number or offer to walk you home or at least something.

You’d almost made it to the door when you heard Joe swiftly turn on his heal and call out to you.

“Can I have your number?” He asked, rather frantically, like he’d almost missed his shot.

You turned back to him with a small, shy smile.

“Yeah.” You giggled. “Okay.”

[catherinnn]

Hunger for Touch

Joseph Quinn x reader

smut with switch! joe, wrote this trying to cope with all the content we're getting lately because i neeeddd himmmmm

It had been over two weeks of not seeing each other, sixteen days to be exact. You talked every day, but you missed seeing each other in person, you missed having a conversation without having to wait some minutes or even hours for a reply, or see each other without a glitch on the screen. You missed hugging, kissing, touching. And it showed.

As soon as you walk in the door coming home from work, he jumped on you.

"Oh!"

"Fucking finally" he grunts as he hugs you conpletetly covering you, towering you, wrapping you with his arms, making you feel small next to him.

You hug him back once the surprise effect passes. Kisses are shared in your mouths, cheeks, necks, frontheads, even hair. Just everywhere. Mixed with 'I missed you's and 'I love you's.

That transforms into walking over the couch where he sits, pulling you to sit on his lap. Sweet kisses become deeper, and hands start moving and wondering on eachother's bodies.

"Missed you so much, babe" he whispers against your mouth, his hands carresing your waist pulling you even closer.

"Yeah? You did?" you say in a soft tone, almost as if you didn't believe him. But it was all part of the game.

"Yeah," he breathly moans before another kiss, "so fucking much"

"Yeah?" you breath against him as well. As you slowly start moving your hips forward and then backward again. Sarting to grind down on him.

He kisses you somehow even deeper, and his hans start pulling on your shirt. You lift it over your head, and he wastes no time to start kissing your neck and unhooking your bra to then take it off as well.

He lowers his kisses to your breasts, and you grind harder on him to find some kind of relief.

He's holding you so tight you wouldn't be surprised to find purple marks later where his fingers were.

"Need you, baby" he confesses.

"Yeah? Where do you need me?" you tease him a little.

"Please, baby"

"Tell me Joe, what do you need?" you insist.

"Need you, need- need to be inside you" he stuggles to say, and you keep grinding, feeling his hard cock against your clit.

"Inside me?" you ask, but he's already nodding. "Yeah?"

You open his shirt quickly and then move your hands to his pants, where you fight a little to open it. He yanks his pants down as you take yours off, panties and all.

You sit on him again, and his hands quickly return to your hips, bringing you closer. You grab his dick softly. He's really hard, and his tip is red. You move to feel it against your entrance to then sink down slowly.

He throws his head back with a sigh, and you keep sinking down. You moan at the feeling of him inside you once again.

"Fuck, you're so tight" he moans as he grips you harder, definitely leaving marks on your hips.

You move up and down on his cock, quickly finding a rithm as he helps moving you with his hands.

"Oh, Joe" your head throws back now, arching your back at how good he feels. "You're so big"

He moans, and he starts moving you even faster. "Fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last long. Missed you too much"

"I'm not gonna last either, baby" you admit as well.

He leaves messy kisses all over your chest and neck. You feel his strong and marked shoulders and down to his arms. He's getting so muscly that it turns you on even more.

One of his hands goes down to your clit to start playing with it, making you move faster as you feel your climax getting closer.

"Are you close too? Gonna cum with me?" he asks suddently feeling dominant again.

"Yes, Joe!" you let him take control, and he starts moving you harder. "Oh, shit"

"Fuck, that's it. Cum with me, darling" he orders and you do as he says. Letting your climax take over your body while you moan his name.

He finishes seconds later griping you even harder but you can't find it in you to complain, it just added to the pleasure.

You stay with your head on his shoulder trying to find your breath and he does the same but with his head thrown back against the coutch's cushions.

After some minutes like that, you can think straight again. You leave a few kisses on his shoulder, up to his jaw. Then move to leave one last kiss on his lips, one that he returns happily.

"Hi" you finally say with a cheeky smile on.

"Hi, beautiful" he laughs.

[lovejosephquinn]

Text summary: Joe’s away filming Gladiator II and you’re missing him terribly.

A short and sweet fluffy affair with still pictures of gifs posted by @fyeaheddiemunson 🥰 ps: it wouldn’t let me post the gifs as more than one screen recording fs

[garciaasfluffypen]

bright beginnings pt 13

pairing: single dad!joseph quinn x fem!reader  wc: 1.5k  warnings: SMUT. MINORS DNI. wrap it before you tap it, besties it's time besties. what we've all been waiting for.

“joe-”

before you could finish your sentence, his hands were on your hips and you were up against the wall. looking into your eyes for any last minute objections, joe closed the gap between you two and dear god, you could feel the fireworks going off all around you. your arms wrapped around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, needing to feel him. to be with him. slowly but surely you two made your way to the bedroom, hastily closing the door behind you before joe playfully tossed you onto the bed, causing a laugh to fall from your lips. he was on you in seconds again, hovering over you as you reached up to cup his cheeks. 

“do you want this?” you looked into his eyes, curiosity getting the better of you. “we can stop.”

“don’t stop, please god don’t stop.” 

lips crashed against yours again as you could feel joe getting lower and lower. finally, his hips met yours and a moan fell from your lips as you buckled up to meet him. the need in your core was growing and growing, and if he didn’t do anything about it soon you’d be going crazy. with a push to his shoulder you got him to help you sit up, wasting no time in grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling at it. within seconds, the shirt was on the floor and his hands were back to roaming the expanse of your body, slowly lifting up the shirt you had on. with a swift nod of your head, the shirt was off and haphazardly thrown somewhere on the floor with joe’s. joe sat back for a second to admire you, holding your wrists lightly so you didn’t wrap your arms around your waist like you had done earlier in the night. he gently pushed you back against the pillows and moved some hair away from your neck before he started to make his way down your jawline, placing feather light kisses as he did so. your back arched as his calloused hands made their way down your sides, leaving ghost-like traces of him everywhere he could. 

before you knew it, your bra was off and his lips were on you again and all you could focus on was him. the world around you two crumbled away as he kissed and suckled at your nipple, small moans falling from your mouth as you moved a hand to play with the curls atop his head. he switched to the other one, his free hand now moving to play with the nipple he was just attached to, the sensitivity getting more and more noticeable. he looked up at you through lidded eyes, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he started to trail kisses down your stomach. a whine escaped your lips as you tried desperately to reach for joe. almost as if he was reading your mind, he took his belt and pants off faster than you could comprehend, taking the opportunity to pull him back up to you and flip over so he was leaning back against the pillows now. your hands trailed down his chest and ended at the hem of his underwear. 

“can i?” 

a smile formed on his face. “of course. whatever you want.” 

his underwear joined the rest of the clothes and you watched as his dick popped up. you gently grabbed it with your hand, looking at him one last time for any last second take backs. when he signaled to you with a nod that it was okay, you put him in your mouth. both of you let out guttural groans, your core red hot and getting wetter at every sound joe made. he eventually grabbed you by the hand and pulled you up to him so you were hovering over him. 

“do you- i don’t…”

“i’m on the pill. just fuck me, joe.” 

“god you are so hot.” 

joe held onto you as you sank onto him, your head falling into the crook of his neck as you did so. the two of you sat there for a second, mainly for you to adjust to the new feeling inside of you, but it didn’t last long as your hips started rocking back and forth. joe got the hint and grabbed at your hips, moving them up and down slowly as you readjusted your knees to get a better angle. noises you’ve never heard yourself make before escaped as you started to move up and down, the pleasure flowing through your body in waves. without leaving your body, joe flipped you and rested you against the mattress, pulling you closer to the edge. your hands flew above your head as you laid there, hair spilling out behind you as joe continued his pace. you could feel yourself getting closer and closer, and if you focused hard enough, could tell joe was getting there as well. 

“i want it, i’m so close-- oh! don’t stop don’t stop!”

you could have sworn his eyes got darker with lust as his thrusts got sloppier. “that’s a dangerous statement, sweetheart.” 

“joe, please.” 

as if on cue, both orgasms hit you. it easily was one of the best sensations you had felt in a long time, and if you were being honest, you didn’t remember the last time a man had made you feel this way. joe’s thrusts slowed down as you both came down from your respective highs, slowly pulling out of you with a pop. you barely registered him leaving the room until you heard the door close to his bathroom, resulting in you leaning up on your elbows a bit. he came back out with a washcloth, slowly pushing your legs back open so he could wipe you off. you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips at that simple gesture, turning beet red as you saw joe chuckle at you. 

“‘m sorry. i just… you’re very gentlemanly. i’m not used to this.”

“don’t be sorry, you’re very cute.” he tossed the washcloth into his laundry basket. “don’t forget to pee.”

“but what if i just want to lay here and not move ever again?”

“then you can pee on the bed.” joe held out a hand. “i don’t want you getting a uti.” 

you grabbed his hand, letting him help you up. “you are truly written by a woman.” 

“i-i’m not sure what that means.” 

“you cleaned me up after sex and are forcing me to pee so i don’t get a uti. usually guys will get dressed and leave.” 

joe looked quite surprised. “men do that?” 

“unfortunately.” you shrugged as you sat down on the toilet. “you’re going to make me not want to have sex with anyone else after that.” 

“who said i was going to let you?” 

you definitely choked on your own spit. 

“i-”

“you never answered my question earlier. about everything. about us.” 

oh.

“wait. i’m literally sitting on the toilet. lets wait til i’m not actively pissing before finishing this.” 

“you’re right, lemme just.. i’m gonna go get us some waters.” 

“yes okay good idea.”

joe awkwardly shuffled back out into the bedroom leaving you alone as he shut the door. you ran a hand through your hair and let out a breathy laugh.

yeah, you were never having sex with anyone but joe ever again. 

you went back to the bed, taking the glass of water from him after he got back in bed, curling into his side as he wrapped his arm around you. a blanket fell over your laps as you sat in a comfortable silence, basking in the fact that it finally happened. it was real, and it happened.

“y’know..you never really expect what’s coming for you, do you?”

your head tilted to the side. “huh?”

“you don’t. and that’s the fun thing about life. the craziness.” joe grabbed your hand, staring into your eyes. “its what brings you closer to those around you, you know? the chaos of everything, the timing... it’s never perfect, but the universe knows what it’s doing, and i’m so glad the universe led me here. led me to you.”

“joe…”

“please, let me finish. i need to say this before i chicken out.” he paused. “i want you in our lives, y/n. more than you’ll ever know. stay with us. with me.”

a smile formed on your face as you blushed. “you really like me?”

“so much. so so much. never leave me. i beg.” he dramatically pushed his face into your shoulder. “be mine, y/n. forever.” 

“you are so idiotic.” you ran a hand through his hair. “of course i’ll be yours. promise me one thing, though?”

joe looked up to you. “what’s that?” 

“i get to punch julia at least once.” 

with that, the two of you burst out in laughter, falling into the embrace of each other’s arms.  this was nice. it was… more than nice. it was everything you ever wanted in life. and it felt… perfect. 

it truly was a bright beginning.

[whatsupsonnyboy]

Drunk in my mind | Joseph Quinn (part III)

PAIRING: Joseph Quinn x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Joe and you (actress!reader) met during the filming of a romantic thriller, you two struggle to keep your undeniable chemistry professional. But when intimate scenes push your limits, the line between acting and reality begins to blur.

wc: 5.3K

warning: fluff, slow burn, co-stars to friends, friends to lovers, mentions of sex, swearing, overthinking, angst

a/n: here's the final chapter for these two. Hope you enjoy it as much i did bringing it to live.

Feedback is welcomed <3

request are open  | masterlist

part I | part II | part III

The news had unsettled him. It would be a lie to say otherwise.  When he had thought that all the pressure from intense scenes were gone, production had decided that it'd be great to explore the intensity of the relationship of your characters by changing some scenes about the breakup between them. 

You two were informed together, first thing in the morning after some days since your last scene together. Joe had searched in your eyes for a response, a hint about what you were thinking… but he couldn’t get anything. Your eyes were distant, unapproachable. 

Mark gave each one of you a copy of the rescripted scene so you could follow the reading and oh God, it was even worse than he had imagined. 

None of you said a thing, but the similarity to the breaking point you were going through was irrefutable. For a second, the idea that it was done on purpose crossed Joe’s mind… but he knew it wasn’t like that. It was just a coincidence, a terrible and hurtful coincidence. 

“I never wanted to hurt you.” Joe read, trying to sound dull and barely looking at you. 

But Mark wouldn’t take it and demanded more veracity. 

He sighed and obliged himself to lock his eyes with yours. 

“I never wanted to hurt you.” he said with a broken voice, almost trembling. 

“Then why did you?” you said back, not needing to read it from the script. You sounded terribly genuine and Joe could’t keep looking at you. 

Joe shifted beside you, the tension rising like a storm cloud in the room. His fingers trembled slightly as he held the script, the weight of the scene pressed down on him. He knew it was just acting, just lines to deliver. But those words... they feel too real, too personal. You two had crossed a line between performance and truth, and the reality of it stung. 

Mark asked you two to memorize it fast so you could practise a bit before taking it to the set the next day. You both had less than 24 hours to learn the lines, practice and execute it. But Joe felt like that was the easy part, the tough one was to pretend again that anything of it felt real. 

-

Joe stood there, gripping the script in his hands, the weight of the words in front of him feeling heavier than ever. His chest was tight, and his mind raced as he tried to prepare himself for what was about to unfold. Mark had insisted on rehearsing the scene before they shot it. Of course, it made sense—this was the heart of the story, the climax of everything that had been building up. But Joe wasn’t sure he was ready to face it.

He could feel your presence beside him, even though you hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. Every inch of him wanted to avoid looking at you, but the words were pushing him to face you—to feel the weight of what you were about to do.

The silence stretched on for a moment, and Joe felt the tension between you tighten. The crew was setting up, the distant hum of activity in the background, but here, in this room, it felt like there was nothing but the two of you. He could barely keep his hands from trembling.

Mark gave a quick nod, signaling for them to begin. "Let’s just take it from the top," he said, his voice steady, but Joe could see the tension in his eyes too. He knew this scene would be everything.

Joe opened the script and read the first lines but he was looking at you when his voice came out hoarse, almost like he wasn’t sure if he even believed the words he was about to speak.

“You don’t get it, do you? I never wanted things to end like this”

His voice cracked slightly, and he could feel his face flush with discomfort. He glanced at you then, but only for a split second—just enough to see your stiff posture, the way you were holding herself together, as if everything in you wanted to run but were forcing yourself to stay.

You didn’t speak at first, but your eyes narrowed, and Joe could tell you were already calculating your response. That same cold distance had settled back in between you. It had been there for weeks. But this time, something felt different. He wasn’t pretending anymore. He couldn’t. The weight of the scene was too much.

When you finally responded, your voice was steady, too steady. Too controlled. But Joe could hear the hurt buried beneath it.

“But they did… and it doesn’t look like there’s nothing left to fix”

The words landed in the space between you, heavier than any line you’d ever said on set. His stomach dropped, and for a moment, he almost forgot the rest of the scene. It was too real. It felt like something that should’ve been left behind—something too painful to confront.

He could feel himself shutting down, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to push through it.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he muttered, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth. He looked at you, his heart pounding.

It was true—he never had. But somehow, somewhere along the way, he had. And now here you were, saying the things you never had the courage to say in real life, making it all too raw, too painful to pretend it was just acting.

You didn’t flinch, but there was something in your eyes, something that made his breath catch. He could see the same confusion, the same anger, that had been there when everything fell apart. It felt like you were reliving it, just as much as he was.

The silence stretched again. Joe could feel his skin growing too tight, like he was suffocating under the weight of it all. His fingers tightened around the script, but it didn’t help. Nothing would.

His voice broke the silence again, but this time it was more of a nervous laugh, a way to cover the unease bubbling up inside him. "Jesus Christ, this is brutal," he muttered under his breath, trying to lighten the mood.

But it didn’t help. It didn’t change anything. It just made the discomfort more obvious.

He glanced at you, hoping to see some sign that you were as uncomfortable as he was, but instead, you just looked… like you were losing control. Your eyes were wide, and your breath was shallow. Joe could see the strain in your face, the tension in your jaw. It was all too real for you, too much.

Then, after a beat that felt like an eternity, you broke. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and when you opened them again, they were brimming with unshed tears. You inhaled sharply, as if trying to hold everything back.

“I can’t do this right now,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t even look at him or anyone in the room as you dropped the script and walked out of the room, your steps echoing in the silence that followed your.

Joe stood there, staring after you, his own breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to fix it. The weight of the scene, of everything you were both feeling, crushed him in that moment.

He stood frozen in the rehearsal room, staring at the door where you had just walked out. The weight of the halted scene hung in the air, thick and suffocating. His mind replayed the intensity of those lines, of your reaction, and the way the raw emotions they were supposed to act out had bled into the reality of the situation.

He wanted to follow you, but something held him back. He needed a moment to collect himself, to process everything that had just happened. The script in his hand felt heavier than ever, and he found himself reading the same line over and over without really understanding the words.

The director's voice broke through the silence, pulling him back to the present. He stood next to Joe, his expression serious, more so than usual.

"Joe," Mark said, his voice low but firm. "I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but it’s clear this isn’t working. The tension is there, yeah, but it’s not helping the scene. If you don’t figure it out, it won’t work. I’ve let it slide for a while, but you need to resolve this. It’s urgent."

Joe’s chest tightened as Mark’s words sunk in. He knew he was right. The tension between him and you wasn’t just affecting the scene—it was affecting everything. And now, it was spilling over into the real world, making it impossible to get through even a single rehearsal.

Mark continued, his voice softer but no less determined. "Take some time if you need it. But you have to talk. This scene is important, and we need to get it right today."

Joe nodded absently, the weight of the words settling deep in his gut. The scene, the tension, everything—it wasn’t just about acting anymore. It was about the unresolved emotions between you. And that was far more complicated than he had ever imagined.

As Mark walked away, Joe felt a heavy urgency settle over him. He couldn’t keep avoiding this. If there was any hope of getting through this, of fixing things with you, he needed to face it.

Without a second thought, his feet carried him toward the rest area, his thoughts spinning in a whirlwind of uncertainty. What would he say? What if you shut him out again? What if you didn’t want to talk?

But he couldn’t turn back now. Not after everything. He knocked on the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited, hoping that you would be ready to face this too.

-

You opened the door without a second thought, barely registering the weight of his presence before he stepped into the room. The last person you expected, or maybe the last person you needed. But there he was. And though you didn’t want to face him, you knew you couldn’t do this in front of the whole set. Not now. Not after everything.

He stood there for a beat, watching you, waiting for you to say something. But I wasn’t sure what to say, not when everything between you felt so... fragile. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost gentle.

“Are you okay?” His gaze was intense, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just concern—it was something deeper, something that was harder to ignore.

You snapped without thinking, the frustration bubbling over before I could stop it. “Do I look okay to you?” Your words came out harsher than you meant, but it wasn’t like you could just pretend you were fine. “You should go. Please”

But instead of retreating, he took a step closer, his face tightening, his jaw clenched. He was silent for a moment, but then it broke. Everything he’d been holding back, all the anger, the confusion, the pain—it all came crashing out at once.

“You think I don’t care?” His voice was low, but it cut through the silence like a knife. “That all I wanted was to get through this fucking movie and move on like nothing ever happened?” His words were sharp, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he spoke.

You didn’t flinch, but his words hit harder than you wanted to admit. You could see the way his muscles tensed, how his fists curled at his sides as if fighting to keep himself together.

“You think this is easy for me?” he continued, his voice growing louder, more intense. “You think I’ve been just fine with this? With us? Hell no. Do you have any idea how fucking exhausting it’s been to pretend?” He stepped closer, and you could see the frustration in every line of his face. “To watch you act like I don’t exist?”

His eyes burned into your, relentlessly. And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t see the walls he’d put up. You didn’t see the guarded, distant Joe. You saw the person who had been carrying all of this, keeping it locked inside. He was raw, exposed, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel it, too.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t retaliate with the same anger he was throwing at you. Instead, you held back. Cautiously. You needed him to get all of it out. To speak his truth, no matter how much it stung.

His voice broke slightly as he continued, the tension in the air so thick it was suffocating. “Do you think it doesn’t hurt me, too?” he said, his breath coming faster now. “Do you think I don’t wish I could change everything? That I don’t regret every fucking thing that’s happened? You’ve made it clear what you want. But I’m here, still here, and you keep pushing me away like I’m just... nothing.”

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to calm him down or argue. You were letting him speak, even if it felt like you were about to fall apart. This was the honesty you had been begging for, even if it came with a fury you weren't ready for.

His chest heaved, the strain in his voice betraying him. “I didn’t want to hurt you, you know?” He was quieter now, but the emotion was there, thick and heavy. “I never fucking wanted to hurt you. But I did. And it’s killing me to see you like this, to see you push me away like it was nothing. I’m not okay with this, but you... you’ve been acting like I don’t even matter.”

His words stung, but they were nothing compared to the way his eyes looked at you—like you were everything and nothing at once. It was too much to process, but at the same time, it was exactly what you needed to hear.

You stayed silent, not because you didn’t want to answer, but because you knew that if you opened my mouth right now, you might not be able to stop yourself from falling apart. Instead, you watched him, his frustration and pain spilling out in the rawest way possible.

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. “God, this is so fucking hard,” he muttered, almost to himself. He sounded like he didn’t even know who he was anymore. “I can’t fix this if you won’t even let me try. And it’s driving me insane.”

There was a long silence between you, the tension unbearable, the air thick with everything left unsaid. You wanted to say something. Anything. But you held back.

This wasn’t the time for you to fight back, to argue, to match his anger. Not when he was this exposed, this broken.

So, you did nothing. You just stood there, letting him get it all out, knowing that this was what had to happen before anything could change. You had been waiting for him to finally be real, to drop the walls—and now that he had, you weren't about to stop him.

Finally, his words slowed, and he seemed to deflate, like all the energy he had left had been poured into that outburst. He was breathing harder now, looking at you, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He wasn’t angry anymore—he was... lost. And for the first time in weeks, you saw him the way you had seen him before.

But you still didn’t speak. And the silence between you stretched on, heavy with everything that had been said, everything that still needed to be said.

It was too much for either of you to process in that moment, but you weren't going to walk away. Not now. Not when this was finally happening.

You watched as his posture changed, the rigidness in his shoulders giving way to something more fragile. There was a noticeable shift in his expression, a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. His breathing became uneven, and he lowered his gaze, as if ashamed of himself. His words came out softer now, but they were laced with an emotion you couldn’t ignore.

"I was scared, okay?" His voice cracked, and for a brief moment, it was as if the room held its breath, waiting for him to say more. "I didn’t know how to handle this. I didn’t know how to handle you."

The words hit you like a physical blow. It wasn’t what you were expecting—certainly not after everything that had happened—but somehow, it made sense. Everything he had said up until then, all the anger and the frustration, it had been just a mask. A defense. He had been fighting something deeper, something he hadn’t let out until that moment.

For a second, you didn’t know how to respond. You felt the weight of it in the pit of your stomach, that familiar ache of disappointment, of things left unsaid. But the sincerity in his voice made it hard to stay angry, harder to hold onto the walls you had built up.

You took a step forward, unsure of what exactly you were about to say, but knowing it was time to speak your truth too.

"You think I don’t get it?" Your words came out a little more fragile than you intended, but they held the truth you had been avoiding for so long. "I’ve been scared too, Joe. I’ve been terrified. But I didn’t know how to handle it either. I didn’t know how to handle... you."

There was a rawness in your voice now that matched his, a vulnerability you hadn’t let yourself show before. His words cut through the layers of frustration and hurt you had been holding onto for weeks, and now, without the anger to mask it, you felt the cracks starting to appear in your own defenses.

"I never wanted to get to this point," you continued, your voice quieter, more deliberate. "I never wanted to be... like this, with you. I didn’t want to be angry all the time, to feel like we were just two people passing by each other, pretending nothing mattered."

Joe’s eyes finally met yours, and there was something in them now—something different. The intensity was still there, but it was tempered by a kind of sadness, a recognition of the pain you both had carried. He didn’t say anything, but the way he was looking at you told you everything. This was the first real conversation you had had in what felt like forever.

For a moment, the silence stretched between you both, heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. You could feel your heart beating louder now, the sound echoing in your chest. It was terrifying to be this honest, to say everything that had been buried for so long, but it was also... necessary. You knew that then.

Finally, you spoke again, your voice a little steadier.

"I thought I could just ignore it, you know?" you admitted. "I thought if I kept pretending it didn’t matter, that it would go away. But it doesn’t. It never does. And here we are. And I don’t want to keep doing this anymore. I don’t want to keep pretending like this is okay when it’s not."

Joe nodded slowly, his gaze still locked on yours, his expression softening. It was clear that he was hearing you, that he was understanding you in a way he hadn’t before. Maybe it was the first time you had really listened to each other—not just in the heated moments of anger and frustration, but here, in the quiet aftermath.

"I know," he murmured, his voice still shaky, but softer now. "I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen."

The air in the room suddenly changed.

You felt it the moment his voice dropped, the sharp edges of his anger giving way to something else—something darker, something heavier.

"I tried to push it away," Joe murmured, his voice raw. "To push you away. But I couldn’t. I never could."

His eyes burned into you, and it was impossible to look away.

"And seeing you every fucking day, pretending like it didn’t mean anything, like we didn’t mean anything—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his jaw clenching. Not because he was out of things to say, but because the words seemed to betray him, choking on the weight of them.

And then, he took a step forward.

It wasn’t aggressive, but it wasn’t hesitant either. It was pure instinct, pure need. A force pulling him closer before he could think better of it.

His hand twitched at his side—barely, but you caught it. Like he wanted to touch you. Like he didn’t know if he was allowed.

Your heart pounded so loud you were sure he could hear it.

His breathing was ragged, his jaw still tight, like he was fighting himself. Holding back, even now.

But his eyes—God, his eyes.

Dark and desperate, so full of something you didn’t want to name.

You should have stepped back. You should have said something, done something, stopped it before it went any further. But you didn’t.

You stayed exactly where you were.

And that was all it took. A mistake—an instant where your gaze flickered down, just for a second, landing on his lips before you could stop yourself.

It was small, barely noticeable. But he noticed.

Joe sucked in a sharp breath, and something in him snapped.

One second, he was frozen. The next, his hands were on you.

Gripping your waist, pulling you against him like he couldn’t take it anymore.

His lips crashed into yours, rough, desperate, stealing the breath from your lungs. There was nothing soft about it—no hesitation, no caution. It was weeks of silence, of resentment, of longing finally breaking free.

A low, almost pained sound escaped him, vibrating against your mouth, and it wrecked you.

You didn’t just let him kiss you—you kissed him back. Hard. Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails dragging slightly against his scalp as if to prove he was real, that this was real.

His grip tightened on you, hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, closer—like he was trying to erase the space that had existed between you for so long.

The kiss was messy, frantic, full of everything that had been left unsaid. No patience. No restraint. 

And then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

You both pulled away at the same time, breaths colliding, foreheads almost touching.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Joe’s hands lingered on you for a second longer, as if his body hadn’t caught up with his mind yet. Then, slowly, he let go.

Your lips tingled, your breath unsteady. And when you finally forced yourself to meet his gaze again, you saw it. The same thing you were feeling.

Shock. Relief. Inevitability.

Neither of you spoke. You didn’t have to. Because this—whatever this was—was far from over. And you both knew exactly when it would happen again.

Walking back onto set felt surreal.

The weight that had been sitting on your chest for weeks was suddenly gone, replaced by something else entirely. Something heavier, but in the best possible way.

Your lips still tingled from Joe’s kiss. Your body still hummed with the memory of his hands on you, his breath mixing with yours, the way he had needed you like he was making up for lost time.

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was feeling the exact same thing.

But when you did glance over—just for a second—there it was.

His gaze was darker now, more focused. A quiet kind of intensity that wasn’t just acting. His jaw was tight, his breathing just a little uneven.

He was still thinking about it. Thinking about you.

And fuck, that knowledge sent a thrill down your spine.

The set was already buzzing with activity, but somehow, the air felt different.

Maybe it was just you. Maybe it was just him. Or maybe… maybe everyone else could sense it too. The energy between you two had shifted, palpable in a way it hadn’t been before.

There were looks. A few whispered comments exchanged between the crew. The director eyed you both for a moment, lips pressing together as if debating whether to say something.

But he didn’t.

And honestly? You didn’t care.

The only thing that mattered was getting through this scene.

Because the sooner it was over, the sooner this day would end. And the sooner this day ended, the sooner you’d be back with Joe, pressed against him, tasting him, feeling his hands—

You took a slow breath, rolling your shoulders back as you settled into your mark. Joe did the same, standing across from you, tension coiled in every inch of his body.

Mark exhaled, glancing between you two. “Let’s run it once before we shoot. I want this to feel real.”

Silence fell over the set. And then—

You started.

For the first time in a while, the scene flowed effortlessly. There was no hesitation, no forced emotion. It was raw, real, charged with something far beyond the script.

Every word, every look, every beat of silence between you two felt like a confession. Joe’s eyes locked onto yours, and for a second, it wasn’t just the character speaking.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

His voice was hoarse, thick with something that wasn’t entirely pretend.

Your throat tightened. The line shouldn’t have hit so hard. But it did.

“Then why did you?”

The words left your lips softer than intended, but they still cut through the air like a knife. Joe exhaled, his jaw clenching.

His fingers twitched at his side, and you swore—you swore—you saw it. That flicker of truth behind his eyes. The set faded away. The world faded away.

And it was just you and him.

Until the director finally spoke. “That was… yeah. That was it. Let’s set up for the take.”

You barely registered the movement around you. The crew adjusting lights, checking marks, preparing cameras. Because Joe was still looking at you. And you both knew exactly how this night was going to end.

-

The moment filming wrapped, you felt it.

Relief. Anticipation.

That thrumming energy beneath your skin that had been building all damn day, reaching a fever pitch the second the director called the final cut.

It was done.

You had both done what you needed to do. Played your roles. Delivered the scene with a rawness that had left even the crew silent for a beat before applause broke out.

And now—now, finally, you could go.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

Because just as you were about to gather your things and head out, someone in the cast spoke up.

"Dinner?"

It wasn’t unusual. Long shoot days often ended with the team grabbing food together, unwinding before heading home. Normally, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But tonight…

Tonight, all you wanted was to get out of there. To be alone with him.

Still, before you could come up with an excuse, you heard Joe’s voice behind you.

"Yeah, sounds good."

You stiffened for half a second, barely suppressing the look you wanted to shoot him. Was he serious? After everything, after the way he had been looking at you all day, he wanted to—

Then you caught it.

The way his fingers twitched at his side. The way his voice was just a touch too even, too controlled.

He was playing the long game.

Keeping things under wraps just a little longer, keeping himself in check just a little longer. Or at least, trying to.

So you nodded, giving nothing away, even as your pulse pounded relentlessly beneath your skin.

"Yeah. Let’s go."

-

The restaurant was dimly lit, lively with conversation and laughter. Plates were passed, glasses clinked, and yet—none of it reached you.

Because he was sitting right there. Across the table. Too far to touch, but close enough that every time your eyes met, the air shifted.

It started subtle.

A glance over his wine glass. A fleeting brush of his knee beneath the table. A slow drag of his fingers along the rim of his glass—a movement you felt way too acutely.

And then, it escalated.

His hand settling against the table, fingers tapping absently. Close to yours. Too close. You could have moved away.

You didn’t.

Neither did he.

It wasn’t obvious to anyone else. To them, you were just part of the group, engaged in conversation, playing your part. But underneath it all, there was something else entirely.

A silent, electric dare.

It stretched between you with every passing second, every stolen glance, every slow, deliberate breath.

Until finally—finally—you couldn’t take it anymore.

"I think I’ll head back," you murmured, pushing your chair back.

Joe’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark, unreadable.

"I’ll walk you."

It wasn’t a question.

And you didn’t argue.

-

The walk back to the hotel stretched longer than it needed to.

Neither of you rushed. Neither of you wanted to.

The cool night air was a relief against the heat still thrumming beneath your skin, but it did nothing to quiet the tension—the kind that had been building for far too long, simmering beneath every glance, every near touch, every moment of silence.

And now, without the noise of the restaurant, without the weight of prying eyes, there was nothing left between you except this.

You talked. Not much, but enough. And for the first time in what felt like forever, it was easy.

It shouldn’t have been, not with everything between you, everything still unresolved. But somehow, in this quiet moment, it was.

Maybe because you both knew exactly where it was leading. Maybe because there was no need to say it out loud.

By the time you stepped inside the hotel, the air between you was charged.

The low hum of conversation from the lobby, the soft chime of the elevator—none of it registered. Not when Joe was walking beside you, his hands in his pockets, his jaw set like he was still trying to keep himself in check.

Not when your pulse quickened with every step down the hallway. Not when you stopped in front of your door and turned to face him.

This was it. The moment of no return.

You reached for your key card, sliding it through the lock with a steady hand, but before you pushed the door open, you hesitated.

And so did he.

For the first time since you left the restaurant, he faltered.

You saw it in the way his fingers played with his rings, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. He was thinking.

Maybe too much.

Maybe about what this meant, about what came next, about whether either of you would come back from it.

But then—then your eyes met his. And whatever thoughts had been holding him back crumbled.

Because you weren’t hesitating. You weren’t backing away.

You just stood there, your fingers still curled around the door handle, your breath shallow, your body waiting.

And that was all the invitation he needed.

In one slow, deliberate step, Joe closed the space between you.

You barely had time to inhale before his hand came up, fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face toward his—a silent question.

One you answered without hesitation.

You stepped back, into the room. And he followed. No more doubts. No more distance.

Just you.

Just him.

Just this.

[pinksatinpanties]

PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE ROOM ─ joseph quinn

GIF by freckledjoes

summary You'll try not to hate Joe for ghosting you.

pairing joseph quinn x actress!reader

wordcount 1.2k

⎯⎯  warning(s)  kissing | dating co-workers | rpf

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

You couldn’t hold it against Joe. As an adult woman, you knew better by now. Kisses don’t come with strings attached and just because a person kisses you, doesn’t mean they want to spend the rest of their life with you - especially if that kiss happened while both parties were drunk.

Which Joe made pretty apparent when he didn’t call you the morning after your kiss. Or the three mornings after that. Or the three months after that. All you had heard from Joe was his reaction notifications from the cast group chat when someone would send a Twitter meme made of the show. Everyone fancied one of Jackson’s character screaming “Well, you can shove your ham up your ass!” 

“Joekeery loved an image”

That’s all you got. 

You went about your life the way you always did between gigs: waitressing during the week, babysitting your friends’ kids on weekends, and sending out the odd self-tape in hopes your career wasn’t over before it had even begun. It was a nice, simple life. Not every actor was fortunate enough to afford a roof over their head in New York City, no matter how many doubles they worked. You consider yourself spoiled rotten every day. What could possibly be missing?

You didn’t date. That was probably part of the problem. That’s what made Joe’s silence ache so deeply. You wondered if it would change anything if he knew that the most action you had gotten in months before the kiss was getting catcalled in the streets. A simple kiss meant the world to celibate, touch starved women like you.

Maybe you should be the one to call him… And maybe you should crawl on your knees begging him to pay you a modicum of attention with “DESPERATE” written on your forehead in red Sharpie just to put the icing on the idiot cake. 

He popped into your mind way more often than he was welcome. At the grocery store when one of the songs he always played in the makeup trailer started harassing you over the intercom. In your kitchen when you removed fish bones from your salmon. In bed when you were trying to… Well, that’s no one’s business. 

“Guess who has two thumbs and just got renewed for a second season,” the director bubbled in the group chat.

“Oh, I love this game,” David texted. “This show. Our show got greenlit.”

It was time to shake it off. Not just for the sake of the show, but for your own sake. It wasn’t healthy to dwell so much on the past. 

On the first day back from hiatus, the producers and director had the cast sit for a table read of the first few scripts they had written. As Joe’s TV wife, you’d expect to be sitting next to him considering most of your scenes were together. Maybe you should talk to Joe and clear the air before the table read started. Yes. That’s the mature thing to do.

You arrived twenty-five minutes early - which is on-the-dot on time in the acting world. Joe wasn’t there when you arrived. Or ten minutes after you did. Or five minutes after that.The anticipation of Joe’s arrival was turning your stomach into knots. He was usually punctual. Surely, he wasn’t tardy because of you.

“Any word from Joe?” The director mumbled to his assistant. 

“Haven’t heard from him,” they replied.

You began to worry. Was he skipping out on the table read because he didn’t want to see you? Had his avoidance of you gone that far? He’d have to get over it eventually. He had a contract to fulfill. Just as you began your descent into a catastrophizing spiral, the clock struck eleven and Joe jogged into the room - beads of sweat forming at his hairline. “So sorry,” he panted. “Traffic was terrible.”

“It’s okay, we wouldn’t get started without our golden boy,” David teased. “I hear he’s up for sexiest man alive this year.”

Joe blew a short raspberry in response.

“Alright, alright, let’s get right into it, shall we? From the top of episode one.” The director chirped, no doubt relieved that he didn’t have to read Joe’s lines for him. “Interior. The Henderson bedroom. John and Jane Henderson lie in bed, covered only by their silk bed sheets. They’re snuggled up together. Post-coitus is implied.”

Say sike right now. You had never done a scene like this with Joe before. Never! The Henderson’s didn’t even have a scene like this in their honeymoon episode.

Of course this would be the first scene on the first day back after your first time seeing Joe after your first kiss. It was fan service. Every girl, guy, and person wanted to see more of Joe’s skin these days. But why did you have to be dragged into it?

You turned to look Joe in the eyes as you would have at any other table reading. Normal. This is normal. Business as usual. But it didn’t feel as easy as it was before. At first, you struggled to make eye contact and when you finally did, the intensity of his gaze made you blush a bit. Only a bit. The show must go on.

“That was amazing, sweetheart,” he scooped the line off the page and met your gaze again. 

God, the script writing was really going downhill this season, huh?

You sighed contently as the script dictated. “You’re tellin’ me!”

The whole cast chuckled.

The rest of the table read went on without a single hitch. After the ice was broken, things weren’t nearly as awkward as you dreaded they would be. The cast went through the entire table read five times before the lunch break. The first thing you did with your free time was approach Joe.

“You didn’t call.”

“Neither did you."

Fair, but not really because Joe was the one with a booming career and Joe was the one everyone tuned in to the show for and Joe was the one with most of the power in this dynamic and Joe was the one who initiated the kiss and infinitely many other reasons that he was to blame came to mind before you finally came to the conclusion that you didn’t call Joe because you were afraid of the possibility of rejection. What if you followed up only to find out that he wasn’t interested in you? Your low-self esteem convinced you that reaching out to a person like Joe was asking for embarrassment.

“So what now?” The rough exterior melted, revealing the vulnerable little girl inside that just wanted a boy to like her back.

“Well, that’s up to you,” he shrugged.

Not necessarily the answer you wanted. You just stared him down until he said more things.

“If it was just a drunken kiss, I understand. We’ll never speak of it again. We’ll keep things professional.”

“And if it wasn’t?” You murmured while making sure to avoid eye contact lest you be made a fool of for saying that.

“If it wasn’t… I’d like you to have dinner with me," he blushed. "Some time. If you… I dunno if you have free time- Well, of course you have free time, but I meant- If you want to have dinner,” he stammered and stuttered.

“I’d love to.”

Joe sighed in relief. “Great. Do you like Italian?” He smiled a bashful, closed lipped smile and it made the corners of his big, brown eyes crinkle.

“I love Italian.”

“I know a spot in the lower east side near Ludlow. Friday at eight? I’ll pick you up if you like.” God, his eyes.

The submissive in you wished he would stop worrying about what you like and make you do what he liked. The romantic in you found his sheepishness so charming.

“I’d like that,” you beamed.

[etherealxwitch]

i’m asking for one chance… one chance to do whatever i want, sir

[sweetprfct]

Strawberry Frosting

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Waking up from your nap, you found your husband Joe and your daughter, Rosie baking sugar cookies.

Author's Note: Okay, thanks a lot @ceriseheaven for talking about more girldad!Joe . I'm gonna be making more after this. Forgive me I'm still learning how to write fics with kids in it since it's not really my cup of tea most of the time. I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 1.9K

The sound of the mixer whirring in the late afternoon was what woke you up from your nap. You had decided to leave your little girl with your loving husband as you took a nap and relaxed for a while. You have spent your Saturday morning cleaning around the house and catching up on chores that you kept putting off during the week. Now, your back was hurting, you had a throbbing headache, and you needed some peace and quiet even just for an hour. 

Waking up at 4pm and seeing your husband covered in strawberry frosting was the last thing you expected to see. Getting up from your bed and making your way down the stairs, you paused in your tracks when you heard laughter and giggles echoing from the kitchen. You leaned against the doorframe and watched Joe turn the mixer on. 

The kitchen counters were covered in flour, drops of different liquid ingredients and dirty bowls and spoons. Your 3 year old daughter, Rosie, was sitting on the counter top, watching her father try his best to bake her some sugar cookies. It was moments like these that made you want this world to stop and just watch this moment over and over again. 

Rosie had always been a daddy’s girl, and you couldn't honestly blame her for being one. Joe loved to spoil her even before she was born. When you were pregnant, Joe would buy just about anything he could find at the store. 

“Don’t you think she would love this?” He picked up a stuffed pink bear, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Joe, didn’t you already get her a teddy bear?” 

“Yes, but this one is pink!” Joe argued. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle as Joe shrugged and placed the pink bear in the cart. He didn’t care if he already bought her the same one in a different color. If he thought she would love it, he would get it. 

The moment Rosie was born, you could instantly see her resemblance to Joe. Her big brown eyes and as she grew older, her hair was curly just like her father’s. He was his mini copy as what you would always say. Joe always had been such a good father. Even with his busy schedule, he refused to miss the big moments with you and Rosie. He would drop everything in an instant for the both of you, and you didn’t even know you could love him even more. 

“Mum!” Rosie exclaimed, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You shifted your eyes at Rosie, who was pointing at you, her shirt and face covered in frosting.

“Hey, darling.” Joe smiled. “You’re awake. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.” You grinned happily, making your way towards the kitchen counter.

You watched as Rosie reached her arms towards you. You chuckled softly, grabbing the kitchen towel to wipe her face from all the frosting. You have no idea what they have been doing, but they definitely made a mess in the kitchen.

“Oh my goodness!” You laughed softly, taking Rosie in your arms. “I think someone has been eating too much frosting.”

“We made sugar cookies.” Rosie smiled, pointing at the freshly baked cookies on the tray. 

“I see that. You and Daddy made it from scratch?” 

Rosie nodded her head, her brown curls bouncing. You smiled and shifted your eyes at Joe. He was still playing with the mixer as he tasted the frosting that he was making. He was wearing your floral apron, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him. He had flour and pink frosting on his beard and cheek. He certainly looked like he had been trying his best to bake cookies for his daughter.

“Do you need help?” You asked, watching Joe sucked the frosting off his finger and made a disapproval expression.

“This is my second batch, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” Joe shook his head, staring at the mixing bowl.

“Let me try.” You walked over to him, placing Rosie on your hip. 

You reached over to the bowl and sucked the frosting off your finger before making a face. 

“That’s so sweet.” You scrunch your face. “How much sugar did you put in this?” 

“It said five cups.”

Your eyes widened, “Five?!”

You walked around Joe and read the recipe in the recipe book and bit your lower lip. You gazed up at Joe and gave him your sympathetic eyes. The poor thing must be that tired because he read the instructions wrong.

“No, it’s five tablespoons of milk.” You said. “It’s three cups of powdered sugar.”

You heard Rosie giggle as Joe knitted his brows and leaned in towards you. He blinked a few times before slapping a palm on his forehead.

“Ohmygod, my eyesight is that bad now? I thought it said five cups!”

You laughed softly, caressing his back softly. You and Joe turned when you both heard Rosie laughed softly. Immediately, Joe raised a brow at her, his fingers poking her small tummy.

“That’s funny to you, yea?” Joe teased, tickling her on her side as Rosie kicked her feet and laughed harder.

You laughed, holding on to Rosie in your arms as she continued to squirm, while Joe continued to tickle her. 

“That’s funny, yea?” Joe asked. “You won’t have any cookies if you keep laughing at me.”

Rosie immediately went dead silent as she pouted and reached her arms towards Joe. Taking her up in his arms, Joe swung her around in the air, making her laugh before nuzzling his frosting covered face on hers. He left repeated kisses all over her face as Rosie laughed, kicking her feet in happiness. You couldn’t help but watch them together. They were so adorable like this, and you honestly didn’t even want to ruin the moment at all. 

Joe placed Rosie back on the kitchen counter as he wiped off the frosting that got stuck on her face from him. You grabbed the mixing bowl and dumped the bad frosting in the bin before washing it.

“Darling, I got it.” Joe murmured, hugging you from behind and kissing your cheek softly.

“Are you sure?” You raised a brow at him.

“Yes.” Joe smirked. “I know what to do now.”

Letting out a soft hum, you grabbed a clean kitchen towel to wipe off the excess water inside the mixing bowl before handing it back to him. You never tried to get in the way when it came to their daddy-daughter time. Leaning on the kitchen island, you watched as Joe read the instructions—carefully this time— and asked Rosie to hand him the ingredients. 

Together, they would measure the ingredients and dump it in the bowl before Joe would turn the mixer on. Sitting on the counter top, Rosie swung her legs excitedly, while Joe washed his hands and carried Rosie in his arms. 

“Strawberry frosting.” Rosie murmured, pointing at the perfect frosting that Joe had finally made.

“Let’s try it, yea?” Joe leaned Rosie forward in his arms as she dipped her finger on the frosting and smiled happily. 

“Good?” Joe asked, smiling at his daughter.

“Good!” Rosie gave him a thumbs up before turning her head towards you. “Mum, try it!” 

You grinned at them and walked around the counter. You stared at the bowl before dipping your finger on the frosting and tasted it. You could see Joe was waiting for your reaction, his eyes pleading that it had turned out better than the last two batches he had made. 

“How is it?” He asked. 

“Perfect.” You smiled. 

Joe pumped his fist into the air before giving Rosie a high five and placed her back on the counter again. You laughed softly, watching Joe grab the tray of cookies and place it on the plate next to Rosie. 

“Okay, darling.” Joe said. “Let’s decorate these cookies.”

As Joe grabbed a piping bag, he shoved some frosting in it before handing it to Rosie. You stood to the side and enjoyed the scene that was in front of you. You leaned forward against the counter, your chin on the palm of your hand as you watched them both. Joe helped Rosie decorate the cookies, making more mess in the kitchen as they laughed together. You could see the tiredness in Joe’s eyes, but you knew he refused to go get some rest until he was able to finish these cookies with Rosie. 

Joe had been promising Rosie all week that he would bake with her, but he had been super busy with filming, and he was glad that he had found time to spend time with her on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. However, Joe was filming late at night so he didn’t come home until this morning. 

“Wow!” Joe exclaimed, clapping his hands. “That looks so beautiful, darling.” 

You tilted your head as you watched Rosie add a mountain of pink glittery sprinkles on the cookie. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly as you walked over towards them. 

“Let me see.” You said, looking at the tray of sugar cookies with pink frosting and glittery sprinkles.

“That looks so beautiful.” You smiled at Rosie, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Rosie picked up one of the cookies from the tray and reached it over for you to take a bite out of it. You let out a soft approving hum, chewing on the cookie and nodding your head. 

“Delicious.” You grinned, brushing her soft brown curls. “You and Daddy are such good bakers.”

“Yay!!” Rosie clapped her hands as you and Joe both laughed. 

You started picking up the dirty dishes and placed them on the sink and started washing them before you felt Joe’s strong arms wrapped around your waist. He hugged you from behind, setting his chin on your shoulder, grinning happily.

“I can handle that, love.” He whispered, kissing your cheek.

“Hmm…” You turned around as he yawned softly. 

You picked up a clean dish towel and wiped the frosting off his face. “You and Rosie get some rest, and I’ll finish up around here.”

“No, it’s my mess. Let me clean it up.” Joe argued. 

“No, no. You both go to the living room and relax. I can handle it.” You gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Okay, thank you.” Joe smiled, kissing you softly on the lips. 

“Just make sure to change her into a fresh shirt, please.”

“Will do!” Joe called out as he carried Rosie in his arms and walked out of the kitchen.

You couldn’t even feel frustrated or mad about all of this. Even if you had just deep cleaned the kitchen this morning, you were too caught up admiring the sight of them earlier. You couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how much Joe loves the both of you. How much he’d do anything for Rosie even if he was exhausted. 

Putting away the clean dishes back on the cupboard and wiping the kitchen counters, you placed a few cookies on a plate and made your way towards the living room. You could hear the movie Tangled playing on the television and the next thing your eyes caught made your heart swell even more. 

Joe was laying on the sofa with Rosie on top of his chest. Rosie’s soft curls were sprawled on Joe’s arm, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. Joe’s one arm was underneath his head and his other one wrapped around Rosie’s body. His chest was rising and falling steadily as they both slept peacefully. 

You couldn’t help but just stand there and watch them for a moment. 

You certainly love this little family of yours. 

The End. 

********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover @mdurdenpitt @siriuslysmoking @blueleonor @bejeweled13swiftie @ceriseheaven

[keeponquinning]

Imagine being Joseph's girlfriend and feeling awkward and insecure about all the attention he's getting. now imagine the sweet nothings he'd whisper in her ear, the endearing 'I love you's while buried between her legs and little marks left on her skin so she always knows...

Guys, never stop sending me stuff like this.

Good lord. Here we go. 18+ adult rpf stuff ahead, scram kiddos

It'd be difficult not to feel insecure, the attention he gets is so constant, and part of you can't blame them. You've always known how amazing and talented he was. And he cares so much of his fans, part of it being of pure amazement and never expecting this attention. You're proud of him, so proud of him... and yet...

He just seems to shine so much brighter than he used to, brighter than you. He's being cast in these major productions, getting more in the spotlight and rising higher and higher and part of you can't help but think you're holding him back. That one day he'll leave you behind, in the dust of what you two used to be. There's models, actresses that would fit better with Joseph and you can't help but feel you don't measure up. Soon, he'll see you as an anchor that's keeping him in one place and not sail towards the sun.

But Joseph doesn't see that. When he looks at you, he sees the one person keeping him afloat in the storm of this madness he found himself in. Oh, it's fun, it's exciting, and he's getting opportunities he was sure he'd never had a chance to get before Eddie Munson, but it's so mad sometimes. He'd lose himself if it weren't for you. The calm in the storm. He cherishes every moment with you, something as simple as holding his hand is like a lifeline to him. Your smile brightens his day, your laugh makes his heart feel full. You're everything to him. He wouldn't know what to do with himself without you.

The night before he has to leave you for a shoot, he tells you as such, his cock filling you deep. Every thrust of his hips is hard, quick, his hand curled around your throat as his body presses against you, in his bed. One of your legs curled high on his waist, making you look at him in his eyes. He felt a man possessed, wanting every second of this burned into his memory. The sound of your panting moans and desperate cries, making his cock twitch, pulse as the walls of your cunt clench around him so tight it drives him absolutely mad with desire.

Towering over you, his whole body covers you, his hands moving the grasp your hair and pull your head back. His lips dancing along the curve of your neck, his own little grunts and groans beating down on you with heated breath. His body moves on his own, chasing the pleasure you give him, his hips pounding into you harder and harder — yet with every quickened breath, every desperate "Oh, god, oh yes, god, right there, please, please..." he forces himself not to follow through, to ease off, though it makes his body shudder, driving him absolutely fucking mad. His teeth biting into your neck, hard and unforgiving. He knows his cock is leaking, so desperate to cum, but the sounds of your desperate cries is too cute for him.

"...do you know how much I love you?" he asked, stilling inside you, cock pulsing, desperate. But he keeps still, tongue licking where he just bit you, imagining the bruise it'll bring. "Do you?"

You're dazed, but even in such a state, the doubts, the insecurity comes out. "...you say that..."

"Because I mean it. I love you. I love you so... So fucking much..." Starting to move his hips again, slow and deep as he lets out a groan. "I'm going to be — so mad — without you. Absolutely useless, just fucking... I'm gonna miss you..." his voice deep, whispering into your ear with each thrust quickening each time. "Going to miss — going to miss every part of you. Like a fucking — a fucking phantom limb I'll feel — but know isn't there... Fuck," he let out, feeling your pussy clench his cock at that. "Oh, you wanna get praised, do you? Mmm. Easily done, love, my fucking love of my life..."

And he tells you, over and over into your ear. Words of praise mingled with breathy moans and pants from his lips. Accompanied with love bites along your neck, jaw, shoulder as his hips thrust in and out of you with wild abandon. He isn't holding back anymore. His words becoming feverish, mixes of I love you, my fuckin' darling and cunt was made for me, y o u were made for me. Heated utterances of how beautiful you are. Your laugh, your smile, the sound of your voice a bright light in any dull instance his new found fame gave him. Because you weren't part of the fame monster, you were real, technicolor in a grey scale industry and he needed you like he needed air. To feel like himself, the old Joseph Quinn and he needed that, he needed you, so desperately did you have any idea of how much he needs you?

You both cum the hardest and most intense you've both ever felt. You drench his cock in your release and Joseph? He cums inside you, deep and plentiful, thick ropes of his cum painting your walls, coating, drenching them with his cum. He moves, still, body jerking into your body, milking the orgasm out of you both. You could feel him, how much he filled you with his cum, filling you to the brim and more than you two had before. His body feels limp as the last spills inside you.

You both feel light, heavenly, and you feel the rumble of his chuckle as he kisses the flesh of your neck, up to your cheek. "I won't be here," he says, a cheeky grin on his face as he traced his lips along your jaw, toward your lips, "But fuck, you'll be dripping of me for weeks... I hope that'll do until I come back to you." He furrowed his brow, "I hope you know... There's only you. There will always be you."

The sincerity of his words, the way his brown eyes are soft, how sweet his lips feels against yours, the feel of his cock pulsing so deep inside you... Yes... You know. Wrapping your arms around him and you taste his love off his tongue and to your own, the insecurities, the jealousy, the fears melt away and you smile so helplessly, in love with this man.

And he was so helplessly in love with you.

And nothing else mattered.

[lovejosephquinn]

can’t sleep so it only felt right to do this in honour of our joey. so happy 31st birthday to our man, his talent honestly knows no bounds and i am honoured and proud to be a part of this crazy yet wonderful fandom 💛