The second you walked out of the bathroom in that red and blue jacket, teeny shorts, and that damn Daddy’s Lil Monster top, I knew we were going to have a problem. Or I was. Because how the fuck was I supposed to concentrate on anything when my girl looked like a walking, talking fantasy? You’re gonna get me arrested, I muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed, temporarily forgetting the green hairspray I was meant to be dousing my hair with. You twirled once, baseball bat slung over your shoulder, red lipstick smudged just right. You said couples costume. I delivered. Yeah, and I said Harley Quinn and Joker, not Harley Quinn and Joey-fucking-Lynch-going-into-cardiac-arrest. I stared at you, jaw slack. You really had to go all in? You grinned, stepping between my legs. You love it. Of course I did. I was obsessed with you. Always had been. I slid my hands along the fishnets running up your thighs, giving you a look. You’re not leaving my side at this party. You rolled her eyes. Protective much, Mr. J? Don’t call me that. I smirked, finally grabbing the can of hairspray and shaking it.

Joey is described as tall, broad, blond, and extremely attractive, with pale green eyes, tattoos, scars, and a rough bad boy vibe. But underneath that, he’s deeply protective and soft with the people he loves.