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faithinus · 1 year

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Quality Time

Joe Quinn x Reader 🤍

Summary: Reader is long distance with Joe while he is working on a big project. He becomes more distant over time and reader is growing tired of the communication issues. Angst ensues.

Disclaimers: Some arguing, suggested alcohol misuse, discussions of mental health, and classic relationship hurt. Also some fluffy domestic!boyfriend!Joe simply because I wanted to :))))

Word count: 3.6K

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“That place had the best carbonara in the city no doubt.” You made a mental note to move the aforementioned restaurant to the top of your list of rustic Italian favorites.

“I can barely move now. I can’t believe we finished all those courses.” Joe clutched his stomach with one hand and threw his head back dramatically.

Hand in hand with Joe, you strolled around the block. Walks after dinner were so peaceful. You and Joe were the kind of couple that didn’t have to say much. The feeling of intertwined fingers. The sound of two pairs of shoes clicking on the sidewalk. It was more than enough.

You and Joe had made a habit of trying a new restaurant every week or so. It was fun to be tourists in your own city and keep a running list of the best dishes. You relished finding a hole in the wall, those that were yet to be overhyped by internet reviews. The hidden gems could still be claimed as your little secret.

With Joe’s newfound fame, it was hard to get away from the media sometimes. You loved seeing his face on TV, social media, and god he looked good in print, but you enjoyed him most sitting right in front of you. Undivided attention was the love language of your relationship. Date night was a golden opportunity to turn your phones on silent and just forget about the masses. Not having to cook or clean up made the night feel luxurious. Something about a corner booth allowed you shut out the rest of the world.

Your steps fell into a rhythm and you looked up at the sky. Too many city lights drowned out the stars. The only notable shape was a waning moon.

“We should go somewhere in the country,” you whispered. “I wish we could see the stars.”

Joe hummed in agreement.

“I wonder which constellations there are this time of year.” You tilted your head and squint your eyes, but it was no help.

Joe didn’t answer. While you were busy looking at the moon, he was lost looking at you.

__________________________________________

“One more day” you sighed.

Joe left to film a new project tomorrow and there was a certain heaviness in the air. It’s conflicting to feel proud and unhappy at the same time. This movie was a huge win for Joe’s career, but also a stressful undertaking. In two years, you had never been away from him for more than a month at a time. That was about to change.

You sat on top of the kitchen counter, legs hanging over the edge. Joe stood steady, feet planted next to you on the granite. He reached up to the ceiling to unscrew the main light fixture. Household appliances never failed to break at the worst times. You were disappointed but not surprised that your final hours together were spent doing last minute projects around the house.

“I know, darling. As soon as we finish this we can do anything you want... hold this please.” He passed a light bulb down to you.

As much as you didn’t like having to do chores on your last day together, there was something comforting about it. It was so domestic. You loved being a homeowner with Joe. You got to take care of something and make it your own. Even if everything went wrong, you were a team.

“It’s okay, Joe. I kinda like this.”

He looked down at you, eyebrows raised like you had just said something untoward. “What do you mean you like this? Our light keeps flickering like a haunted mansion.”

“No, I just like your company. Besides, you look hot when you work,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Is that right?”

It was. When you were sitting at Joe’s feet, you had an entirely new view of him. Based on the way his chest moved, you could tell that his breath slowed when he was focused. His jaw tensed in concentration. Joe’s hands looked stupidly angelic toying with the glass fixture. When he lifted his arms over his head, the hem of his shirt raised just enough above his hips. How alluring.

Joe’s hand reached down to you, palm open, signaling for you to hand the light bulb back to him.

You started to pass it to him but paused with your hand halfway to his. “You should tell photographers what a great angle this is for you,” you teased.

Joe rolled his eyes and laughed softly. “If all you are going to do is sit there and ogle at me, does that make me your sexy electrician?”

“Only if I can be your sexy assistant.”

“Deal.”

__________________________________________

Five weeks had passed since Joe left. You were at the halfway mark and already completely over the long-distance setup. Being alone isn’t inherently lonely. Independence can be freeing, but there is a difference between independence and separation.

Joe is the kind of person that makes you feel both his presence and his absence.

There was no one to welcome you home from work. You almost made the mistake of announcing your presence as you walked through the front door. By the time you opened your mouth, you remembered no one was going to respond. When you sat down to watch TV, the couch felt alarmingly empty. Suddenly, you regretted turning down Joe’s request for a pet.

No one played music and waltzed around the kitchen with you. No one snuck up behind you and set their chin on your shoulder while you heated oil in the saucepan. Pouring a glass of wine alone felt more like medicating than celebrating.

In an effort to cheer yourself up, you took a group of friends out to a restaurant you tried with Joe. Turns out five star carbonara tastes different in the company of different people.

At first, Joe was adjusting seamlessly to long distance communication. He acted the same as he would if he was only gone for a week or two. You two were texting throughout the day and speaking on video calls every night. The third week on set got really busy, but Joe still talked to you before bed without fail. Seeing his face, even through a screen, was reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

At the end of the first month, contact became more sporadic. Joe didn’t pick up when you called one night. The only plausible explanation was that he running a little late, so you waited patiently for his reply. You smiled thinking of how apologetic he would be when he finally got home. Another two hours passed. StiIl, you gave Joe the benefit of the doubt. He was working so hard and you couldn’t blame him for conditions out of his control. Surely he would shoot you a text any minute now, telling you how wild his day had been.

Your notifications stayed painfully dry as time passed. You fell asleep with your phone still resting in your palm.

Vibrations against the mattress are what woke you the next morning. Still bundled up between the sheets, you picked up. A black screen was staring back at you instead of what you hoped would be another pair of sleepy eyes.

“Joe, I can’t see you.”

“Sorry love, we are rushing to grab breakfast! Don’t want to give you motion sickness!” he chuckled and closed a car door on the other end.

Joe’s use of the word we elicited immediate disappointment. The lack of privacy made you feel less free to speak. You shifted uncomfortably, moving away from the sight of the phone camera. Maybe no one else was watching, but you didn’t want to risk it. Laying in bed with deep bags under your eyes wasn’t the ideal way to meet Joe’s co stars for the first time.

The calls went on like that for a few days. He was always running out the door, pastry halfway in his mouth, spewing apologies on the way. A handful of cast and crew were in the background. You never spoke longer than the length of a car ride.

Joe kept calling with his camera off.

This week you couldn’t get ahold of him, despite your best efforts. Every time you called you received the same answers:

Long hours on set tonight. Miss you Xx

Early call time tomorrow! Sorry love!

Hair and makeup needs me at 4:00am... Mornings aren’t gonna work this week

You laid in bed staring at the messages. Your eyes watered from the blue light burning your eyes. That or you just wanted a really good excuse to tear up. The most recent sent text mocked you:

Got a minute to chat?

And below it, [text read thirty minutes ago].

__________________________________________

You didn’t see the photos until the next day when you were sat on your lunch break. Each one looked harmless on its own, but there were SO many. You paused with a fork lifted halfway to your mouth, shocked at the length of the Twitter thread you were reading.

In light of the lack of direct communication, you had secretly hoped that searching Joe’s name on socials would give you a glimpse of what he was up to. However, you didn’t expect Twitter to serve you an explanation for Joe’s absence on a silver platter. It was too easy.

The posts started out as photos of Joe entering a bar of some kind. They were a bit blurry from being taken by a passerby across the street. Yet, they were definitely of him. The white dress shirt and chocolate brown slacks from the photo were a simple, signature lineup that you loved on Joe. It was no surprise that he packed them.

Most of the people surrounding Joe were recognizable as other members of the cast. The photo descriptions made it clear that the intent wasn’t even to capture Joe. He was collateral damage of the media frenzy. The account owner gained a large following for being a fan of his female co star. The tall, stylish brunette was the focus of most shots. A few frames later, Joe stepped outside with her for a smoke.

As you kept scrolling, the inconsistencies between photos became more apparent. For starters, Joe was wearing at least six different shirts. You swiped back forth to compare the different posts. The familiar woman was wearing a ruched skirt in one image, a pair of black pants in another, and a tan jumpsuit in the next. This was either an event that required many outfit changes, or these were taken across several nights.

The setting transitioned back and forth between the same bar or outside of a flat. Joe was featured punching in an entry code to a gate, clutching a long paper bag in his other hand.

It’s not that Joe isn’t allowed to drink. He’s a legal adult by a landslide, but sheesh, what happened to the early call times and late nights?

You scrolled through the photos until you could piece together a decent enough timeline. What a shame social media was telling you more about your partner’s whereabouts than your partner himself. You opened the images from last night again and swiped to the end.

Unlike the rest of the photos, there was one set taken from inside of the bar. The quality was noticeably distorted from the dim lighting. The owner must have held their phone at an odd angle to conceal their spywork. Joe had his arm around the familiar co star. One hand was on her opposite shoulder and the other held a shot glass.

Even in still photos, you caught on to Joe’s posture. There was a certain way he stood when he was incredibly drunk and trying to play it off. She was in heels, yet looked small next to him. You missed that feeling and longed from him to envelope you. Although, maybe now it was the floor that you wished would swallow you whole.

As you swiped, the images showed the progression of Joe leaning in to whisper something in her ear. The very last photo zoomed in on the woman, head thrown back in laughter.

Nope.

You shut your phone and tossed it onto the table. You weren’t going to allow your mind to go there. You took any suspicious, intrusive thoughts and shoved them to the far back of your brain.

Let’s examine the facts. Anybody that knows Joe knows what a professional he is. Any interaction between cast members HAD to be strictly friendly.

Just an ounce of self reflection confirmed that foul play between co stars was out of the question. However, just because Joe wasn’t a cheater didn’t mean you weren’t being neglected.

How many times over the past few weeks did he send you a work related excuse and then head out to socialize?

It was so unlike him to ignore you, but it was even more out of character to lie to you.

You reached out and unlocked the phone again. Your fingers flipped back and forth between apps, eyes darting to compare text messages to the dates on tweets. The frantic behavior was emulating crazy girlfriend energy and you knew it, but you trusted your intuition more than anything else.

The photos of Joe carrying liquor into the apartment building jumped out. They were taken last Friday around eleven.

You double checked the only message you received from Joe that day:

Long hours on set tonight. Miss you Xx

sent: 10:35pm

________________________________________

We need to talk. Please call as soon as you can.

It was the first text you fired off after you left work.

You typed and deleted about five different paragraphs but settled on two sentences. Not calling Joe right away took an immense amount of self control. However, a) if this week had been any sign, there was no chance he would pick up during work hours, and b) leaving him a voicemail of accusations risked saying something you didn’t mean.

Joe must of sensed your urgency, because your phone was ringing by the time you reached your car.

“Hi love. I need to run in a few minutes. Is something wrong?” The term of endearment that was normally so comforting now sounded out of place.

Joe’s phone was lying face up. All you could see was a beige ceiling and an aura of light. He fumbled with objects on the other side of the room. You shut the drivers side door and paused, debating on whether it was a good idea to have this conversation while sitting in a parking lot.

“Yes, Joe.” You spoke slowly, trying not to to get ahead of yourself. “I need to see your face. I don’t want you to lie to me anymore.” Something inside of you hoped that once Joe looked you in the eyes, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

The rummaging stopped. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Sit down and look at me.”

Footsteps drew closer to the microphone, and static cracked as Joe grabbed the phone from his bed. His face came in to view, mouth slightly open, brows furrowed in shock. You were never this short with him.

Joe sank down to the floor, back against a wall. “What is going on? You’re scaring me.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I know why you’ve been ignoring me. I also know how this sounds,” you said hesitantly. “But I’ve seen the photos of you online. You visit the same bar over and over. You were at the same flat nearly every night this week.”

“Are you tracking my every move?” he accused. “You know I’m nearly 30 years old and can handle myself-”

“You said you were at work,” you cut him off. “That’s the problem, Joe. You told me you had late nights filming or needed to go to bed for early call times. When in reality, you care more about your social life than me right now.”

“I can explain-”

“Let me finish. You are allowed to socialize, but you aren’t allowed to lie to me about it. Why are you avoiding me?”

“It’s not a lie. I-”

“Don’t feed me that shit. If you are going to deny it, then I am done. Do whatever you want, but do it without me,” you hissed. The sudden burst of emotion surprised yourself and your face went hot.

“Listen to me for one second!” Joe’s voice cracking in the speaker caught you off guard. You couldn’t recall any other time he has raised his voice at you. He brought a hand up to his forehead and through his hair. Joe had a habit of doing that to self-sooth.

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t tell you the truth, because I just didn’t want to burden you with it. Okay? You just have to trust me.”

“You don’t want to burden me with your drinking habits?” you scoffed. You and Joe told each other everything. Him dodging your questions was so out of line with his usual transparency. It worked you up into a rage.

You were met with a long, heavy silence on the other end. You raised your eyebrows and gestured for him to continue.

No response.

“Fine, don’t talk,” you shrugged. “But I can’t let this go without a better explanation. You deserve all you have going for you, and for the record, I tried my best to make this work.”

Even the suggestion of letting this discussion end unresolved felt like a hit to the chest. They were your own words, yet the seriousness of their implications knocked the wind out of you.

“I can’t believe you won’t trust me!” Joe tossed his hands up in exhaustion. It was clear at this point that you were not going to allow him to sweep this under the rug.

“I can’t believe you lied!” you hissed in return. “I have been so goddamn lonely because you won’t give me the time of day anymore. Can you imagine how that feels? To have your partner avoid you and deny it? To be given no explanation?” Your voice shook and salt crept down into your mouth.

All you ever wanted was his honesty, and for the first time ever, he couldn’t give you that. The corners of your mouth shook as you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you.

Joe’s eyes caught on your wet cheeks. There was a sigh of recognition on the other end of the line.

“Im sorry... I didn’t mean to make you upset,” his tone softened and he averted his gaze. Joe was never able to watch you cry.

You suddenly remembered you were still sitting in the parking lot with only your car windows to separate you from the outside world. You rushed to wipe the tears away with your sleeves.

“This role... it’s so heavy.” Joe looked up at the ceiling like he was searching for the strength to speak. He took in a sharp breath.

“The scenes get extremely dark. I spend so much time getting into the troubled mind of this character, and it makes me feel like a different person.” Joe brought a nervous hand up to his neck.

“I wake up every day and have to act out disturbing things. I got so good at it that I started to feel the pain even when no one was recording. To me, you are a bubble of safety. So, the last thing I wanted to do is bring that nightmarish mentality into our relationship.” His voice was breathless and full of fear at how you might react.

“Joe... I didn’t realize-”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. Instead of telling you, I suppose I turned to vices. You are right. I’ve been drinking more than usual... smoking too, to be fair,” his voice trailed off shamefully. “I know how it looks, but I just wanted a way to escape without weighing you down. Turns out I’ve done a really shit job of coping.” He looked up at you to gauge a reaction. This time it’s his turn to blink back tears, and for what it’s worth, you could tell he was fighting.

“It’s okay,” you said softly.

“It’s not.” Joe shook his head slowly. “I should’ve realized how lonely it would make you feel.” The way his voice caught in his throat was so sad that it nearly erased all of your anger.

“I would’ve understood.” You stared back at him sympathetically. “I want to know how you are feeling. That’s part of my job description in this relationship, you know.”

Joe looked down at the floor, but you noticed the corners of his lips turn upward ever so slightly. It was the first time during the call that either of you saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Do you atleast have someone that will look after you?” you asked.

Joe swiped at his screen and it paused. His image went blurry. “I’m writing myself two reminders,” he said. You heard the sound of thumbs tapping.

“For what?”

“First, to reach out to the support staff on set. Second, to call you again tonight.” His words were confident and reassuring. They were full of everything you have been missing over the past few weeks.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Your shoulders dropped as you exhaled tension you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

Joe will be gone for a while longer, but somehow it felt like he just returned home.

#Joe Quinn #joseph quinn #Joe Quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #angst #faithinus writing

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joesquinns · 1 year

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This gif is shit - sorry for that Since it's Valentine's Day here where I am, I thought of "giving" my favourite fanfic-writers some love because they give us so much love during the whole year with their awesome creations! I refuse to pick fave stories, so I'm going to link to their masterlist instead! So buckle up because this is going to be a long ride...

But first...some warnings:

Warning 1: A lot of the writers mentioned below write RPF!!! RPF stands for Real Person FICTION! It's fiction about a real person!! I repeat, it's fiction! If you're not comfortable with that, then you have to skip those fics.

Warning 2: Almost all the writers I post here have 18+ fics! So please, if you're underage, don't interact with them. Take a look at their warnings and all, and if you find something that doesn't fit you - don't read it! Simple as that! No need to send stupid asshole hate on anon!

Ok, are you ready?

@joejoequinnquinn Kay is my darling, ok? She's such a wonderful and beautiful person and simply perfect and since this perfection isn't enough she can write! Like damn! She has a way to play with words, it makes me feel things I didn't know I could feel. So do yourself a favour and read her stuff, like AND reblog it, and believe me you will be a different person! - Masterlist

@quinnypixie If you're a fan of Joseph Quinn and do not know Stevie or her writing, I don't know what you're doing here? It doesn't even take 0,5 seconds to get invested in her stories and in her characters and ... you're going to end up obsessed, but it's a beautiful obsession, believe me. - Masterlist

@choke-me-joey I'm a perv...I don't hide it. I like sex. All kinds of sex - there is no limit for me. I try everything out. Especially when it comes to reading about sex. So if smut would be a drug, then Kat would be my favourite drug-dealer. That's for sure. But she doesn't only write smut, you find all kind of stories in her masterlist, especially a very great Eddie story that she's currently writing. In addition to that, she's soon going to ruin us with fluff & angst, and I'm so here for it! - Masterlist (Since Kat is shadowbanned on her account - take a look and follow her on her main: @choke-me-eddie)

@ceriseheaven I don't have to say much about Cherry, do I? I mean, if you're here, you've come across her absolute perfect stuff. In addition to that, Cherry is one of the sweetest and nicest person I've seen on Tumblr. She gets a complete innocent ask and turns it into a masterpiece that leaves you like a lost puppy. I love seeing her and her writing on my dash - Masterlist

@icallhimjoey I have never, in my life, been so deep in desperation when reading her famous 5-parts. Especially when they aren't finished. I want to rip my hair out like every. single. time. No exception. So, grab some coffee or tea, open her masterlist and join us, the cumcum twats. - Masterlist

@quinnsbower If you take a look at Luna's masterlist you'll find EVERYTHING there. They write for all characters Joe has played, plus some (very good) rpf. Every story of them is absolutely fantastic and very beautiful written. - Masterlist

These are the ones I wanted to name explicit, please understand that I can't write some nice words to all the perfect writers out there since it would definitely break this site. But here are the following writers, I totally recommend to check out, read their stuff and reblog ♥

To all the blogs tagged in this post: Thank you so much for your writing!!! You don't know what impact you and your perfect written words have on our lives...MY LIFE!!! You make this earth a better place. Your stories are doing a greater work than any other person could do! ♥ I love you all ♥ Happy Valentine's day ♥

#eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn smut #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things #rpf #fic rec #18+#I have made this some days ago so I hope all the links are still working #I hope I got all the pronouns right #please tell me if I made a mistake!!!#queue

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

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fic recommendations part six!

Hello everyone I am back again with some more fic recommendations! Like last time, here is a fair warning that the list is going to be long because I didn’t realize how many fics I had saved until I went through them looking for a specific one to re-read the other day and was scrolling for a solid five minutes.

Also, I am absolutely not sorry for how many Eddie Munson/Joseph Quinn fics are on this list.

Here’s the links to the first five fic recommendation posts: part one part two part three part four part five

Note: any stories marked * are smutty

distant ~ andy barber* by @cevansbrat0007

swimming lessons ~ thomas shelby* by @vintunnavaa

wet dreams ~ steve harrington* by @judeswhore

steve harrington finds out his girlfriend is pregnant by @gxthicwxrm

don’t move ~ steve harrington by @h4rringt0nswife

scoops and spies ~ steve harrington by @sagewritings

daisy ~ thomas shelby by @peakyswift

table read ~ joseph quinn by @nazifa94

nice fucking try ~ eddie munson by @itsoutrageouss

the color green ~ eddie munson* by @sunflowersteves

eddie munson dating a mean fem!cheerleader who is only nice to him by @kissitbttr

i’ll be gentle ~ eddie munson* by @eddiethebanishedhq

camping ~ eddie munson* by @munson-trashcan

deceiver ~ thomas shelby by @valentine-in-my-quinjet

you. this. us ~ sebastian stan by @time-for-a-library

never too much ~ eminem* by @slimshay-castle

cold ~ geralt of rivia by @mandos-things

spin the bottle ~ maddy perez by @kaicubus

angsty bucky x reader fic by @imyourbratzdoll

lloyd hansen x reader fic by @imyourbratzdoll

the great war ~ harry styles* by @goldengalore

harryween ~ harry styles* by @shroombloomm

candied oranges ~ spencer reid by @spencersawkward

nonsense ~ wednesday addams by @msgorillagripcoochie

it’s not fair ~ eddie munson by @toxic-aries

thirty seconds ~ austin butler* by @sargeant-bxrnes

emeralds and pearls* by @rayslittlekitten

smutty christmas joseph quinn fic* by @choke-me-joey

angsty eddie x reader fic by @forever-rogue

baby bump ~ spencer reid by @michelle-is-writing

blue version 1* and version 2* ~ joseph quinn by @quinnsbower

eyes open ~ joseph quinn by @faithinus

eddie munson x shy!reader by @keeryshouse

#harry styles #spencer reid #steve harrington #joseph quinn #eddie munson #bucky barnes #chris evans #thomas shelby #wednesday addams #maddy perez #imagines #fanfictions #fic recommendations

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faithinus · 1 year

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Eyes Open

Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader 🤍

Summary: Starting out with a classic friends to lovers blurb. The reader and Joe are close friends. She wakes up in his bed one morning and overthinks everything. Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: nothing too serious in this piece, just good old friends to lovers, but there are suggestions of past smutty activities, and of course this is real person fiction. Apologies in advance. This is my first time writing in years!

Word count: 2.1K

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There was a subtle hum, like someone was yawning but with their lips pressed together. It was almost inaudible but you caught it. The bed shifted from weight lifting off of the mattress. You became suddenly aware that the pillow smelled different than the one you had at home. That’s when it hit you that you were in his home, sleeping in his bed.

Eyes still shut, you tried to orient yourself in the room. If you opened them, you risked being face to face with Joe. Sure, you wondered what he looked like still sleepy. Oh god, Joe probably had cute puffy eyes and messy curls and a woolly morning voice. As much as you wanted to find out, you weren’t ready to confront last night and all of its potential consequences just yet. So, you kept your eyes shut and tried not to move. Feet padded across the wood floor and the bathroom door creaked open. How long could you lie here until you had to confront the elephant in the room?

Then, the door clicked shut. Your eyes shot open.

Last night’s silky black dress had been haphazardly tossed on the floor next to the bed. One of the straps was clearly broken, collateral damage from your fit of passion. You couldn’t remember whose fault it was, and quite frankly didn’t care. The two of you stripped each other so quickly. It was almost ravenous. So many months of being friends built up a palpable tension that burst as soon as you stepped through his front door.

Thinking about last night brought back the feeling of your spine against the wall, his breath on your neck, his hands snaking up your torso -

The door clicked open, snapping you out of your thoughts. You forced your eyes shut immediately. It was your only defense.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Not quick enough. He must’ve seen.

“No,” you whispered “s’okay”. With eyes open again, you got the chance to take him all in. Joe stood across the room, curls disheveled, last night’s slacks sitting loosely on his hips.

“Want a coffee?” he chimed, pushing a few strands off his forehead. For the record, Joe’s morning hair was just as noteworthy as you thought it would be, but his nonchalant attitude was confusing. He just slept with one of his best friends. How was he acting so calm about this?

“Yeah, sounds nice. Thank you.” You tried to match his cheery tone but the words came out more groggy than intended.

“You tired? Didn’t sleep well?” Joe teased and threw open a curtain. The sunlight hit your eyes. You squinted and dramatically threw your head in the other direction in protest. His phone screen lit up with a notification. Time: 8:20 am. It’s not that you didn’t sleep well. In fact, you were out like a light once your head hit the pillow. It’s that you didn’t sleep very long. Joe had your undivided attention until the early hours of the morning and he knew that. He was taking this opportunity to poke fun. You were trying to decide if him finding this situation amusing was a good sign for the status of your relationship or not.

“No s’fine,” you said rolling over on your side. Your bra sat cockeyed on your chest, partly exposing a nipple. The air caught in your throat and you tugged up at the fabric. Joe looked away and chuckled under his breath. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I haven’t seen.” He smirked and inspected the street outside the bedroom window. The satisfied look on his face made you roll your eyes. If it was anyone else, he would’ve sounded too proud, too fuckboyish. However, his confident attitude secretly made you want to pull him back to bed for round two.

And you understood. It was comical that you were rushing to cover yourself up when hours ago you had been shuddering under his touch. He had seen the full buffet, but now you were desperate to hide... at least until you could figure out where Joe’s head was at. He opened a dresser drawer and took out the first t-shirt he saw. It was black with a design on the front from an old band you barely recognized. Joe tossed it at the bed and it landed in your lap.

“Lemme go get that coffee, yeah?” He slipped out of the bedroom door. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around how casual he was acting. It was as if he was going through his normal routine. He acted totally content with sleeping with his best friend and carrying on with business as usual. Joe offered you a coffee, tossed you a shirt, and waltzed off like he had done it 1,000 times before. I mean of course he had done this before, but did he regularly bring friends home? Oh god, did you just accidentally fall into a friends with benefits situation? Wait. Did that mean he just gave you his hookup shirt?

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and slipped Joe’s t-shirt over your head. You brought the collar up to your nose and inhaled, half expecting it to smell like another girl.

It didn’t, of course. But it didn’t particularly smell like Joe either. Tie game.

You looked over your shoulder at his bedside table. Three of his rings sat in a little pile. You had to hold yourself back from focusing on them. If you let your eyes linger too long, you could almost start to feel the metal pressing into your hip, hands desperately pulling you in. You shook your head, trying to snap out of it. If this was all simply a one-night stand to Joe, you were going to curse yourself later. A one-night stand meant you need to go back to acting like friends. Acting like friends meant you would spend god-knows-how-long trying forget about the damn rings and all the places they touched you.

How had it even happened? The scenes of last night came back to you in bits and pieces, but not because of the alcohol. You were just in shock.

The two of you were out at a birthday party. Many of your mutual friends were in attendance. You had greeted Joe when he arrived and he didn’t leave your side during the entire event. From the outside, anyone could have mistaken it for normal, friendly behavior. Everyone knew you two were close, but you noticed the difference. Joe didn’t make his usual rounds. He spoke to you until someone else went out of their way to come up to him. His presence felt more intense. Each time you two would lock eyes, it was clear neither person wanted to look away. Everyone else had faded into the background.

Somewhere along the way Joe had gotten more touchy than normal. He had complimented your dress and played with your shoulder strap in a way you didn’t expect. When you walked through the crowd, his hand found your lower back. One of your favorite songs came on and he laughed at the way you sang. You teased him for the way he moved his hips when he danced.

As you swayed back and forth, your fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt. Joe encouraged you to undo a few, making a comment about how hot it was getting in the crowded room. You knew that caring about the temperature was a lie by the way he got closer. Joe let your breath hit his face. His forehead was nearly touching yours and his palms slid down your back. At that point, you were sober enough to make your own decisions but intoxicated enough to act on your true feelings. One thing led to another and he was leading you out the door to call a cab.

He had one hand on your thigh the whole way home.

Joe’s head popped through the door frame, two coffees in hand. “I didn’t know if you wanted cream, so I made one with and one without.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. Joe held out the mugs in front of you and raised his eyebrows, begging you to pick. ��Thank you,” you whispered, taking your preference. With your other hand, you picked your dress off the floor and examined a tear along the seam. “I’m no good at sewing. It’s a shame. I really liked this dress”.

Joe lowered himself onto the bed next to you. He suppressed a smile at the work you two made of your outfit. “I know a good tailor up the street. I can have it done for you.”

“Is this what you do for all the girls? Rip their clothes and take them to your tailor friend?” You said it like a joke but were secretly dying for answers. It would be totally unreasonable to assume Joe never brought a girl home. That wasn’t the point.

As difficult as it was to admit to yourself, you were just sick of it. Sick of stealing glances across rooms and brushing it off. Sick of taking an interest in every one of Joe’s hobbies, opinions, or whereabouts and chalking it up to “being a good friend.” Sick of searching for a new movie to watch and your first thought being: “I wonder if Joe likes this one?”. Sick of rethinking every past interaction from a romantic standpoint. Sick of acting like other people are a legitimate option.

For a moment, a flash of genuine hesitation was in Joe’s eyes. He looked away from you and sipped his coffee.

“The girls? And who might they be?” he mumbled into his cup.

There was an instant pang of regret in your chest. Your question was definitely not a pleasant conversation starter.

“I don’t know Joe…you are a hot commodity these days,” you bumped your elbow into his, trying to play it off as a joke once again.

He furrowed his eyebrows and stood up. The air in the room was noticeably heavier. Ah great, you made it awkward already. Joe took a few steps and then paused, back still facing you. “Did you think- is this… a one time thing?”

You didn’t respond. Joe may have been looking for your confirmation, but you couldn’t give that to him. Your stomach was doing flips, urging you to say no. The way you looked at each other over drinks, in the cab, in his bed, even now, none of it was consistent with a one-time deal.

“You didn’t have to come back with me,” Joe spoke up. His hands went to his hips and eyes dropped to the floor. “If you are regretting this-” he trailed off nervously.

And then you laughed, which only confused him more. The last thing he did was pressure you or give you anything to regret. In fact, he was impressively attentive. The way he whispered “y’sure?” breathless between kisses, the way he glanced up at you looking for clues of your pleasure, the way he squeezed your hand and mumbled “I know” into your neck. It was all so attentive.

“No Joe,” you shook your head as you laughed. “That’s nonsense. You were lovely, really.”

He spun around to face you. “Then what are you on about?... ‘All the girls?’” he mocked your tone.

Now it was your turn to go shy under his gaze. You looked down to fidget with the hem of your - well his - shirt. You hoped you wouldn’t grow to regret this moment, but it was too late to turn back now.

“Am I crazy or was last night the result of a lot of built-up feelings? I don’t want to lose this friendship… but I don’t know if I can pretend like this never happened either. I need clarity here.”

He stood in front of you silently for the next several seconds, lost in thought. Way to leave someone with a cliffhanger, Joseph.

In an effort to cover your tracks you stood up and began rambling “I’m just worried about our friends, Joe. They probably saw us together last night. I don’t want things to be awkward between everyone. They are going to find out and-”

Joe stopped you in your tracks when his hand reached out and gently made contact with your cheek. His fingers tilted you up to face him. If Joe was anyone else, his steady gaze would be intimidating. But it wasn’t like that. It was admiration not a challenge. Your bodies drifted closer together. You lingered with your lips open, dangerously close to his, but not yet kissing. The corners of his mouth turned up. “Let them.”

“What?”

“Please. By all means, let them find out.”

One more glance at his eyes and Joe was pulling you in by the collar of his shirt. The way his lips pressed into yours was dizzying. One of your hands slid up to his shoulder and drew his body closer. Sugar and dark roast were still on his tongue. It was going to be a while before you wanted to open your eyes again.

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #fluff #faithinus writing

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faithinus · 1 year

Note

Hi! Do you take requests? I was wondering if you could write something about how Joe would react if your relationship got leaked to the public? No pressure I just really loved "Eyes Open" and want more :)

Woooo! My first request :))) I took many liberties with interpreting this prompt, but I hope you enjoy it!

[Wrong Man]

Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader 🤍 Feat. Jamie Campbell Bower

Disclaimer: nothing too serious here. As always, let me know if I have missed something.

Word count: 3.2K

———————————————————

OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS.

Whenever your best friend texts you in all caps, it’s followed by one of three things: a video of a hilarious pop culture moment, the revelation that some couple from your hometown deleted their photos together, or a whole lot of trouble.

She sent a series of links rapidly firing one after the other. The image previews loaded, and much to your surprise, they were all photos of Jamie Campbell Bower.

He was with some woman wearing the same coat you owned. Nice taste.

You inhaled sharply. “Some woman” was you.

Okay, this time it’s probably a whole lot of trouble.

The first link opened a website that looked like a TMZ knockoff. The article was titled in a large, bold font “JAMIE CAMPBELL BOWER IN PUBLIC WITH MYSTERY GIRLFRIEND”

Your stomach flipped. No, no, no, no.

Seeing yourself in tabloids was an odd, dissociative experience. The woman was you, but it didn’t feel like she was you. The fact that you were referenced in a headline violently clashed with your self-perception. These things happen to celebrities all the time, but you were no celebrity.

The photos barely even captured your side profile. It could have been any woman on the planet for all off-brand TMZ cared. It felt like if you just pretended hard enough, you could convince yourself that she was a stranger.

But that was your coat. And your shoes. And your nose, and your chin, and...

The camera must have been pointed directly at your face. More than anything, you were annoyed at how unobservant you had been that evening. Why did you not notice the camera?

Oh, I dunno, maybe because you two were walking through a busy parking lot.

It would have been incredibly easy for the photographer to hide behind or inside a car and drive off like nothing ever happened. Jamie was smiling in every photo. Your mouth was half open. There was no doubt that you were laughing. It was just two days ago, so you remembered exactly what you had been speaking about. No one could have guessed how non-romantic it was.

-- “Did you know you aren’t supposed to feed bread to the ducks?” You looked out at the edge of a lake, referencing a little boy throwing his crust into the water.

“Isn’t that just a myth?” Jamie asked.

“No, I think it makes them explode or something,” you shrugged. At least, that’s what your mom told you growing up. Don’t feed the ducks bread or their tummies will burst!

“Explode?” Jamie asked going wide-eyed. “You’ve got to be joking. It’s bread, not dynamite. They don’t just combust!”

“Like in their pants, explode, not generally explode!” you whined.

“They don’t wear pants.”

“You get the point!” You threw your head back and laughed, giving in to Jamie’s reasoning.

He opened the door to the restaurant for you and took one last glance at the young duck feeder by the water. “Poor little guys,” he sighed dramatically.

Joe stood up from the table when he saw you enter. He was giddy with relief, and the eager grin plastered on his face confirmed it.

“Speaking of little guys, there’s yours. Enjoy!” Jamie quipped, prodding you towards Joe’s side of the room. --

Joe made a reservation for a small group of friends at a gorgeous restaurant overlooking the water. Jamie just so happened to park at the same time as you.

Shame on you and Jamie for running late. The photographer either missed the on-time arrivals or purposefully ignored them to make it look like a dinner for two.

You hadn’t even been holding hands! Not once did you make physical contact with each other. How crazy would someone have to be to think you were a couple based on only these photos?

Apparently, a lot of people were exactly that kind of crazy.

Bold, clickbaity titles did their job. The article was distributed all over every social media platform. The author wove odd descriptions into the story, making it sound like something out of a tween magazine.

Apparently “the star and the mystery girl” were “looking loved up” for a “romantic dinner date”.

What a lovely way to report a discussion about bird poo.

Your mind flashed back to all the times you paid the valet double, used a restaurant's back door, and jaunted through their five-star kitchen just to have a private dinner date. It always felt odd, but you did it to avoid this exact outcome of a media storm. And for what?

The media storm happened anyway, just not with the man you expected. Becoming Jamie Campbell Bower’s girlfriend was never on Joe Quinn’s girlfriend’s agenda.

The headline was burned in the forefront of your mind. God that sounded so weird. You closed your eyes and sent up a silent wish that you would never have to hear someone call you “Jamie’s mystery girl” out loud.

What would Joe think of all this? Had he already seen?

You checked the time. He was due home any minute.

Poor Joey probably had the news broken to him by a publicist mid-meeting. You could see it now:

“Yes, Joseph. We are all set with arrangements for the gala. By the way, your girlfriend is rumored to be dating Jamie Campbell Bower.”

Not like he would believe it. He’s not that dense.

Your identity was bound to be revealed to the masses, and when that happened, Joe would be the worrier. He has a tendency to get overwhelmed by exposure, and when Joe gets overwhelmed, you worry about him in return.

You and Joe mutually agreed to avoid public interactions when you first started dating. Current events made it clear that, if you chose to reveal your relationship status, scrutiny would follow.

At the time, Joe’s female co-stars were being ripped apart solely due to guilt by association. They would give him a hug or a light arm squeeze and all of a sudden they were “fame chasers” and “too obsessed with him”. God forbid a woman be the initiator of social interaction. They were seen as forward and flirtatious at best. Slutty and delusional mostly.

Each woman went through the same vicious cycle. They had every word they said picked apart and analyzed until they slunk away into radio silence. Ironically, they received another round of backlash for not being readily available.

People shoo them away and say “Go away! but not too far away! We still need you for public consumption!”

Public consumption. That was his fear. If there was one thing Joe hoped you wouldn't become, it was a product.

Not to mention the guilt that made Joe feel like a villain. He was forced to witness social media rip his friends to shreds, watching them shrink into smaller versions of themselves. Ultimately, Joe felt responsible for the confidence they lost.

So, it was only a few weeks into your relationship before he expressed his concerns about people finding your contact information, where you work, or your home address. Even without the added pressure, Joe loves privacy.

We are talking about the same man who has an Instagram account, yet doesn’t have the app on his phone. Joe loved the luxury of having social media without really having it. Being in the position to pay someone to curate every post for him and monitor his mentions was like a dream come true.

He captured life’s best moments and kept them in a private photo album away from prying eyes. The things media outlets would pay the most to see never reach the internet. Of course, some photos receive the high honor of being sent around a family group chat. Joseph Quinn is not above sending your siblings an embarrassing photo of you.

After someone successfully tracked down Joe’s room number, you also started making hotel reservations under a fake name. Thank god they didn't show up. However, the man did call the front desk and give them a performance of a lifetime. It was convincing enough to get him transferred to Joe’s room landline.

Now, every reservation was booked under “Eddie Hugo”. (The name began as a bad joke, but was quickly recognized as the perfect codename to pay homage to both the late hero and the French writer best known for Les Miserables.)

For the purpose of special events, you were a member of Joe’s “publicity team”. Full access to green rooms and backstage areas was granted by a simple pass hanging around your neck that read “TALENT MANAGEMENT”.

It sounds deceitful, but you loved those nights. You had front row seats to all the action without trading away any anonymity.

Joe’s team knew your true identity, and much to your surprise, no one outside his inner circle ever questioned it. They probably should have after Joe cheekily assured you, within earshot of a journalist, that you were “welcome to manage his talents anytime”.

How you’ve managed to keep everything under wraps for this long? You have no idea.

To be clear, there was a distinct difference between keeping a relationship private and keeping it a secret. Joe told everyone in his life about you. He bragged about your promotion for weeks after it happened. Joe’s father knew every minute detail of “how fabulous” you were at your job, probably against his will. Joe was so proud of your accomplishments even when you discounted them... especially when you discounted them.

Joe’s best friends had no choice but to memorize your birth date due to his tendency to rev up for it weeks in advance. He ran gift ideas by them the month prior. Then, he reminded everyone not to forget about later that month (or next week or tomorrow), because he had "big plans for her birthday."

They knew. He never let them forget.

But these were all real people in his life that he knew wouldn't leak personal information about you and become an “inside source” to some tabloid later on. They were a safe social bubble.

Now your privacy imploded in a way you never expected.

The sound of someone fumbling with keys outside brought you back to earth. The lock rattled and turned forcefully.

You leaned forward over the kitchen counter so that the front door was in your line of sight. Joe marched through the foyer towards your bedroom. He breezed past you without making eye contact. His lips were pressed together, eyes laser-focused on your bedroom door.

Not a great sign, but you can’t say you expected him to float in all cheery either.

“What’s your dress size?”

The question caught you off guard. Your eyes searched for headphones in his ears or a phone in his hand.

Nope. He was definitely talking to you.

Joe swung open the bedroom door and kept stomping towards the closet. “You still have that long one in here? The one you wore to Poppy’s wedding?”

His tone was urgent, but genuinely curious. It dawned on you that he wasn’t mad. The man was just concentrated on some sort of mission.

“Yes, but Joe... why-”

“Aha!”

You were interrupted by the sound of hangers clanging against each other and the rustling of fabric.

Joe popped back into view, proudly holding the pastel, floor-length dress you had worn as a member of the wedding party. He held it against his body and smirked, satisfied. Joe almost seemed like he wanted it for himself.

“Why do you need my dress?” you laughed lightly. Whatever game Joe was playing was somewhat of a relief. You didn’t even care that he was making a mess of your closet. It was a badly needed distraction.

“We are going to a red carpet,” Joe stated matter-of-factly.

“We?” you asked, horrified. And just like that, this was no longer a distraction. You became hyper aware of the elephant in the room.

Joe tossed the dress on your bed and waltzed out into the kitchen. He offered you his open palm and that playful smile that made him impossible to turn down.

You accepted.

“You and me, darling. I talked to Christie and you have an invite.” His fingers laced through yours and gave a squeeze.

Ah, yes. Christie. In charge of all things events and appearances.

You wanted to ask him if now was really the best time to have a hundred (more) photos taken of you, because surely these are not ideal circumstances for a red carpet debut. Instead, you opted for a simple “why am I invited?”

“Fine. You weren’t named per say. But, I get a plus one.” Joe pulled you into his chest swiftly. You gave into the hug and settled your chin on his shoulder.

“You always get a plus one. You just never use it,” you dismissed.

You listened as Joe proceeded to explain that this time was different. It was a big awards show and all your friends would be there. You could sit with Maya, and her friend you met the other week, and Jamie, and -

Jamie.

He really must not know.

Secretly, you were waiting for the day you could step out into public and show each other off without caring about the repercussions. But your future trajectory had just been altered and you could see it clearly: You would walk the carpet with Joe, people would recognize you, and soon enough you would be accused of sleeping with every actor on a Netflix series. Joe would never go for it.

“Come as my girlfriend this time,” he spoke against your temple, just above a whisper.

Shit.

The way he called you his girlfriend made your stomach flutter. You bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold down a reaction.

“What do you think?” Joe pulled away just enough to see your face. He hesitated, eyes scanning your uneasy expression. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

You didn't want to say no and deny him all this newfound excitement, but you knew Joe would change his mind the minute he saw the headlines. Ripping off the band-aid is always better, but why did it feel like you were about to tell a child Santa isn't real?

“Joe...” you looked at the floor. “I just think now is the-”

“Perfect time?”

Your head snapped back up at him. No, Joe. What the fuck?

The look of shock on your face perfectly echoed your thoughts. For a second, you saw a smile creeping up Joe’s cheeks, but he quickly swiped a hand over his mouth and jaw.

You had it all wrong. He was amused. Of course he already knew.

You exhaled a deep release of tension you didn’t realize you were holding in. The relief of not having to drop the tabloid bomb on Joe was so sweet.

Joe took your relaxation as a signal to pull you close again. This time it was the gentle we-will-be-alright kind of hug. You stayed like that long enough to hear each other’s breathing.

“ ’Course I saw the internet. Kinda unavoidable, right?” Joe pressed his lips above your collarbone. “The PR reps kept saying something along the lines of ‘Don’t take her out in public. It’s too soon. They’ll recognize her. Let it blow over first.’ or something like that.”

You stepped back and opened your mouth to interject, to remind him that they were probably right.

“But-” his fingers grabbed at your hips, begging for pause. “If they tell us to hide from it, even the more reason not to. It will be the perfect way to give a middle finger to the gossip columns,” he added. “I can say ‘fuck you. Nice try. This one’s mine.’”

This one’s mine. Heart squeeze.

Joe released his hold on your torso only to lean back on the kitchen counter. He paused to let his words hang in the air, looking content with the hope of a counterattack.

“Admit it," he hummed. "It would be fun to knock the wind out of them."

Despite his confident tone, you caught Joe searching your face, hoping he wouldn't see a hint of doubt. You stood in silence, still running through all the potential outcomes in your mind.

“This whole ordeal made me realize that I’m sick of bending to everyone else's will,” he continued. “Those paps think they beat you to your own debut! Don’t let them have that. We can still step out on our own terms.” Joe tossed his arms out wide, gesturing at the home you now shared. “This isn’t new and fragile anymore. We are solid. It’s the right time...” he trailed off.

Joe was interrupted by a phone ping. He pulled the device from his pants pocket and flipped the screen around to show you the notification.

New text message from: Dad

“...and I want to brag about you to somebody other than my dad for once.”

Joe finally earned an unrestrained laugh from you and noticeably relaxed at the sound. His dad was a pure soul who never claimed to mind hearing any of Joe's stories. But one could argue that Joe needed to talk someone else's ear off for a change.

You collected yourself and gave Joe a serious stare. “On one condition.”

“Yes?”

“I’m not wearing a bridesmaid dress to a red carpet.”

Joe held his hands up in defense. “’ Course not! You think so little of me. I was just trying to get your size.”

“Joe,” you shook your head disappointedly. A classic manly error. “Two things about women’s clothing: every brand fits differently and nothing nice ever fits perfectly off the rack.”

Joe, now recognizing his mistake, shot up and scurried over to the kitchen cabinets. He rummaged through shelves and drawers, tossing spare pens and plastic bags aside.

“Joe-”

“Do we have a tape measure?”

“Not a flexible one, no. But-”

“Let me call someone," he mumbled. You watched as he scrolled through contacts in his phone and sent off several quick messages.

"I’ll schedule someone to come to take your measurements. Should I go ahead and invite the stylist? I suppose we should both be in Dior." He stalled pensively. "Is wearing different designers a breach of etiquette?”

As if you had the expertise to answer that.

Normally, Joe went with the flow. He let designers put him in whatever they wanted as long as he was comfortable. By stressing over an article of clothing, he was showing a whole new side of himself.

“Joe. I didn’t mean it like that. It isn’t that big of a deal.”

He looked up at you with a jokingly dumbfounded expression and blinked a few times. “That big of a deal?" Joe jabbed a finger in your direction. "Watch yourself. That's my girlfriend you are talking about.”

You drifted over to Joe and gave him a playful nudge. “Your girlfriend? That’s nice to hear," you said smugly. "For a second I thought I was ‘Jamie Campbell Bower’s mystery woman’...”

Joe rolled his eyes and held up a hand as if to ward off more jokes. “Don’t get me started with Jamie.”

You laughed, realizing that Joe hadn’t brought up Jamie once in the entire conversation. “Why? Does he think he stole your woman?”

"Worse," he muttered. "Been in my ear all day about how you stole him from me."

[]

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn fanfic #fluff #faithinus writing

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