Description: You notice that everyone keeps asking Joe about his hair instead of his music and you came up with a surprise solution for him
CW: Fluff
Word Count: 1,280
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"What's this?" Joe asks pointing to all bags from the near by craft store scattered across the living room.
"A surprise."
"Did you get a kitten or a cat?"
"Nope, even better. I'm making you some beanies"
"Beanies?"
"Yeah, I've noticed how tired you're getting of people, especially interviewers" you grumble "just keep talking about your hair so the beanie can help hide it."
He offers you a soft smile
"I'm leaning how to knit and crochet beanies that's why there's so much yearn."
"Knit and crochet? Baby, you don't have to do all that just for me."
"Just for you? It's not just for you and don't say it like that because you're not just you you are my love." You correct him
A flush creeps on his neck
"The first ones might be a little rough around the edges so bare with me. Ok?"
"Okay"
-------
"You're wearing the lice beanie again?"
"Lice beanie?" Joe asks with furrowed eyebrows
"Yeah, the uh the fans started calling it your lice beanie. I don't exactly get it myself but I guess the name has rubbed off on me." You giggle
"It's my favorite. The yearn is perfect. It's not to heavy which helps with the heat but if it gets colder I can pull it down to warm my ears."
"Plus it's the first good beanie I made"
"No, it's not. All your beanies are good."
You raise an eyebrow at him
"I love all your beanies, even the ones that were first tries and a little rough around the edges."
-------
"What time do we leave for the airport?" You ask
"We have a little over an hour til the car picks us up. We pick the rest of the boys than it's off to the airport and Hola Mexico." Joe smiles "Why?"
"No reason. I'm going through my checklist and I wanted to know how much time I have in case I forgot something."
"Oh ok."
---
"What's in the bag?" Joe asks, pointing to the bag that was by your feet
"Oh, it's just your beanies"
"My beanies?"
"Yeah, all the good beanies I've made you. I keep the ones I know are your favorites in here too. Call it the beanie bag."
"The beanie bag? That's so cute. Wait why would I need all my beanies?"
"In case the weather changes, or you want to mix and match them with your outfit, or you want to wear them the whole tour." You smile
"Better safe then sorry."
"Exactly! And it's just one more bag"
"That I have to carry" Joe teases
"Hey, I've always offered to carry my own bags. You're the one who doesn't let me."
-------
"At least now you know the hair is a thing," The interviewer says with a giggle
The second those words leave her mouth, you see red. All niceties and professionalism left your body like that sentence was your trigger words. Your mood a mix of overprotectiveness and aggravation. All Joe had to do was give you one word or look, and you'd go off on her.
Or at least that's what's happening in your head right now. In reality, you're pulled a Joe. Offering him the biggest smile you could before mouthing "Don't listen to her," and glaring at the interviewer
"What do you mean?" He asks, his calm personality dropping a bit
"Your hair is a thing. Everybody talks about it."
"Sure, yeah."
You understood that she is just trying to do her job, get the best answers for the fans and the interview, but she was pushing her luck with you.
"Did you - have you read all the comments? The other day, I just got Andrew Garfield because he's got the same haircut as you."
The look on Joe's face only pushed you closer to exploding. The way he kept looking down at his shoes or the couch. The continuous blinking broke your heart.
"I know what you're thinking and don't," Javi says, pulling you out of your thoughts and walking you to a more private area.
"You don't know what I was thinking, and I was just trying to support my boyfriend."
He laughs, even now, he can see you keeping Joe in your sights and glaring at the interviewer.
"You're thinking how Joe won't technically get in trouble if you go up there and lose it for him."
"I-"
"And yeah, you're right, he technically won't get in trouble, but you really think we want to bail you out?"
"I wasn't gonna go that crazy, ok? At least not yet."
"Joe's fine. Well, not fine, but he needs us, needs you in his corner, reminding him he's more than just his hair."
"Thanks for talking me off a ledge. 'M glad you were here."
"Me too. As funny as it would have been to see your bail being translated, I don't think the stress would've been worth it."
---
"Everything ok? I saw you two walk off." Joe asks.
"Yeah, we're ok, baby. Are you ok?" You ask as you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him grounded to you.
"I'm not important right now. I just need to know everything's ok."
"Everything's ok. I was just talking her off a ledge."
"A ledge?!"
"Her words, not mine."
"Not helping Javi."
"Maybe not, but I'm being honest." He laughs
"What ledge was he talking you down from?" Joe's eyes met yours.
"I was just about ready to lose it on her when I saw she was getting to you. You were looking at the fucking couch or your shoes that should've been clue enough to just drop the subject, and if it wasn't, the constant blinking should've been."
"Imagine if I hadn't talked her down."
Joe shakes his head, laughing.
"You know you're more than just your hair. I mean, you're a sweet and kind soul, you're a gentleman, you're an amazing musician, you're a talented songwriter, an amazing brother, and to any of the true fans, you're more than just your hair. I mean you're -"
"Absolutely and totally head over heels in love with you." Joe places a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, embracing you in a tight hug
-------
"What's going on in here? I've never seen our hotel room this unmessy unless we've" You wiggle your eyebrows playfully
"I'm looking for a beanie"
"All this mess for a beanie? Is it the lice beanie? I think that one might be in one of my bags"
"No, no, not that beanie. I know where that one is. I always keep it in my carry one."
"What beanie are we looking for then?"
"You know the knitted doll a fan threw on stage last night?"
"Yeah"
"Ok. Do we have the beanie that the doll is wearing? I wanna wear it to the interview"
"Give me a minute. I think I know where it is" You say reaching for one of your bags in the closet. Laying it on the bed so you can look through it.
Joe face palms, still stressed
"The beanie bag" he runs a hand through his hair "How did I not think to look there."
"Ah hah, found it!" You cheer victoriously, holding up the beanie in the air before walking over to him. You run a hand through his hair before placing it on
"Now let's get going. We don't wanna be late." Joe smiles
"We? Baby, I gotta clean up this mess but I promise I'll be here when you're done." You kiss his cheek.
Joe pouts
"One interview without me you'll be fine. I can't wait to hear all about it when you come back."
i was thinking of a joe x costar!reader where they have been best friend since season one of st but kept getting shipped together and joeâs (ex)girlfriend made him stop seeing her outside of work or smt like that but then they broke up they still didnât reconnect right away. fast forward to when end of beginning came out and people started saying it was about reader because she is from chicago and the entire chorus can be interpreted that way if you try hard enough. and you can end it however you want since iâm not that creative loll
thank you sm for your patience with this entire thing
chicago
joe keery x reader
val speaks - heyy pretty people! i've done all of my requests now i believe which is amaziiing!! i think im gonna keep them closed for a lil bit longer to do some of my own things n start the next chap of both sides andd whilst im starting up my new job bc i didnt realise how loong the process would b n how much i have to do lolol. buuut thanku sm for reading n being patient w me! love u all soso much n i hope ur all doing so well đ
word count: 4.3k
when you met joe during the first table read for season one, it was easy. that was the thing that made everything after hurt so much, none of it had ever been difficult before.
youâd both been nervous, fresh-faced in that weird way young actors always are, pretending you werenât intimidated while secretly overthinking every little thing. the cast was loud and chaotic already, kids running around, producers talking over each other, makeup artists trying to keep schedules together. and somehow in the middle of all that, joe had sat next to you like heâd known you already.
âyou look terrifiedâ heâd whispered while everyone introduced themselves.
you looked over at him. âi am terrified.â
âcool. me too.â
that was pretty much it.
after that, everyone just sort of attached you together naturally. you had scenes together all the time, interviews together, press days together. if one of you was there, the other usually was too. in behind the scenes clips there was always joe somewhere in the background making you laugh while you were trying to stay serious. during filming breaks youâd sit in each otherâs trailers or wander around set annoying everyone else.
people noticed fast, fans especially.
at first it was harmless. edits online. compilations of you two looking at each other too long during interviews. comments about your chemistry. people clipping together moments that meant absolutely nothing to either of you but apparently looked like everything to everyone else.
âthey think weâre secretly in loveâ joe told you once, holding up his phone while hair and makeup fixed his stupidly perfect hair.
you leaned over to read the tweet.
joe keery looks at her like she invented breathing.
you snorted. âtheyâre insane.â
âright?â he said.
then he smiled at the tweet again.
you noticed that but didnât say anything.
honestly, you got used to it. the shipping. people making up entire relationships out of blurry photos and twenty second interview clips. it came with the show getting bigger. people wanted onscreen chemistry to be real offscreen too.
and maybe yours with joe looked a little too real sometimes.
because it kind of was.
not dating, not technically anything, but there were moments.
late night drives after filming, falling asleep against him on flights, his hand on the small of your back guiding you through crowds without even thinking about it, inside jokes nobody else understood, the fact he called you whenever literally anything happened to him first.
you tried not to think too hard about what it meant.
then season one ended and instead of drifting apart like most casts did, you stayed close.
heâd text you constantly. random thoughts. playlists he made at three in the morning. sometimes youâd facetime for hours without even realising it.
everyone around you just assumed you were together at that point.
you werenât.
which honestly made it worse.
because there was never anything to lose exactly. nothing official. no breakup. no conversation about feelings.
just a friendship that slowly got strangled until there was barely anything left of it.
season two started filming almost a year later.
and joe had a girlfriend.
you met her once at first and honestly tried really hard to like her. because she mattered to him, so obviously you wanted it to work. and at first she was nice enough. quiet. pretty. a little cold maybe, but not openly rude.
until she saw what you and joe were like together.
you noticed the shift almost immediately.
the way her expression changed whenever you touched his arm while talking. or when he walked straight toward you between takes without even thinking about it. the way crew members joked about you two being âwork married.â
one day you overheard someone from wardrobe laughing about another viral edit of you and joe.
âpeople genuinely think theyâre soulmatesâ they said.
his girlfriend was standing right there when they said it.
after that, things got weird.
small at first.
joe stopped staying in your trailer between scenes, then he stopped inviting you out with everyone after filming.
texts got shorter. slower.
eventually he sent you one at nearly two in the morning.
sorry. things are just a little complicated and i want to focus on my relationship.
you stared at that message for ages because complicated how?
you never crossed a line, you never tried to make him choose.
even the tiny jealous part of you, the ugly hidden part you never admitted existed, knew she had a right to be uncomfortable. you got it. honestly you did. if you had a boyfriend who looked at another girl the way joe sometimes looked at you, maybe youâd hate it too.
but still.
after everything?
after years of being each otherâs person?
you thought maybe you deserved more than a vague apology text.
the worst part was how natural joe made the distance seem.
he just.. did it.
like cutting you out was painful maybe, but manageable.
he started bringing her to set constantly after that. sheâd sit beside the monitors or wait in his trailer during breaks. and every time you approached him, you could feel her watching.
not glaring exactly, just aware. like she was waiting for proof that everyone online had been right about you.
so eventually you stopped trying.
because thereâs only so many times someone can make you feel unwanted before embarrassment starts replacing hurt.
the change between you and joe became obvious to everyone else too.
interviews got awkward, behind the scenes clips stopped showing you together nearly as much.
fans noticed immediately, making compilations about how âdifferentâ you two were now. people online blamed you, blamed him, blamed the girlfriend. conspiracy theories everywhere.
you ignored all of it.
or tried to.
but sometimes late at night youâd still end up reading comments.
he used to look at her like she hung the moon.
what happened to them?
and that one hurt most because you wondered the same thing.
during filming, you and joe only really talked when scenes required it.
âyou good with this blocking?â
âyeah.â
âcool.â
that was basically the extent of it now.
sometimes youâd catch him almost saying something else before stopping himself, sometimes you did the same.
the silence between you became so normal it started feeling impossible to break.
season three was worse somehow because by then everyone had adjusted except you.
joe looked tired all the time.
not unhappy exactly. just off.
but you stopped trying to figure him out because it wasnât your business anymore.
you missed him in stupid ways. not dramatic ways, just little things.
sending him songs when you couldnât sleep, looking beside you during lunch breaks before remembering he wouldnât be there anymore, wanting to tell him things and realising halfway through reaching for your phone that you couldnât anymore.
and the annoying thing was that despite everything, despite how badly he handled it, part of you still understood him.
joe hated disappointing people. hated conflict. if his girlfriend felt threatened by your friendship, of course heâd try fixing it. he probably convinced himself distance was temporary at first.
then too much time passed and suddenly you were strangers pretending not to notice.
the hardest day was probably a press interview during season three.
the interviewer smiled at both of you and went âfans really miss your friendship.â
the room got quiet after that.
you laughed awkwardly. âpeople online are dramatic" but you didnât look at joe when you said it.
he looked at you though, you felt it.
âyeah,â he said quietly after a second. âi guess they are.â
and for some reason that almost made you cry.
-
by the end of season three, joe and his girlfriend broke up.
you found out the same way everyone else did, ndirectly, through other people talking on set like it was old news already.
âthey split a few weeks ago, i think.â
that was it.
no dramatic announcement. no messy public fallout. just over.
and honestly, for one stupid second, your heart lifted. which made you feel horrible immediately after.
because it wasnât like things between you and joe were suddenly going to fix themselves now. if anything, it made everything more awkward. you couldnât exactly go running back to him the second he became single again. people already spent years convinced you were secretly in love with each other. if you suddenly slipped back into old habits now, it would just prove everybody right.
so you didnât, and neither did he.
you stayed in that weird in-between stage where you were polite but distant. not strangers exactly, but definitely not what you used to be either.
sometimes heâd linger near you like he wanted to say something, sometimes you caught yourself almost texting him before stopping.
but too much time had passed. there was too much history sitting between you now, heavy and embarrassing and unresolved.
the thing nobody talked about was how grief could become routine if you let it.
eventually missing someone stopped feeling sharp and started feeling dull instead. manageable. like an old ache you adjusted to carrying.
thatâs what it became with joe.
until season four started filming.
then suddenly you were around him constantly again and it was awful.
not in a dramatic screaming-match way, honestly it wouldâve been easier if you hated each other, instead it was just painfully obvious that both of you remembered exactly how things used to be.
you fell into old rhythms by accident sometimes.
talking over each other during interviews, laughing at the same thing before catching yourselves, standing too close out of habit.
and every single time, thereâd be this weird pause after. like both of you realised it at once and didnât know what to do with it.
joe was trying. you could tell.
heâd wait for you after scenes now, heâd ask you questions that werenât strictly work related, he started texting again too. little things at first.
you still listening to that band you liked?
did you steal my coffee or am i losing my mind?
normal things, careful things, and you answered because ignoring him completely felt cruel after a while. you knew he wasnât evil. you knew he hadnât cut you off because he stopped caring about you.
if anything, that was what made it harder.
because if heâd just been an asshole, you couldâve hated him and moved on.
instead you understood him too much.
then halfway through filming, joe released a new song.
heâd released music before, so at first you didnât think much of it. people on set mentioned it casually the morning it came out. someone played it from their phone in hair and makeup.
you barely listened until the lyrics hit.
your stomach dropped so fast it actually made you feel sick.
because chicago, because everyone knew you were from chicago, because the whole song sounded like regret wrapped up in nostalgia and things left unfinished.
and apparently you werenât the only person who noticed.
within hours the internet lost its mind.
fans dissected every lyric. every old interview clip. every timeline. edits started appearing again, except this time they felt different somehow. less playful. people werenât joking anymore, they sounded convinced.
you tried not to read it.
you failed completely.
late at night in your hotel room you listened to the song again with your headphones on, staring at the ceiling while your brain spiraled itself into knots.
another version of me, i was in it.
what the hell was that supposed to mean?
because part of you wanted to laugh at yourself. maybe everyone online was being dramatic like always. maybe it wasnât about you at all and you were just self-absorbed enough to think it could be.
but another part of you knew joe.
you knew the way he wrote things without fully saying them. you knew how sentimental he secretly was beneath all the sarcasm and jokes.
and the worst part?
it sounded like mourning, like missing someone. like regret.
after that, filming went on a short break for a couple weeks.
and when everyone came back, you avoided joe completely.
not intentionally at first.
okay maybe intentionally. a little.
but what were you supposed to do? walk up to him and casually mention the fact the entire internet thought he wrote a song about losing you?
hey joe! cool song by the way. quick question, were you devastated over me this whole time or what?
absolutely not.
so instead you started disappearing whenever he was around.
you left set quickly, you stayed in your trailer longer, during group lunches you sat with other people.
and joe noticed immediately, of course he did.
you used to be the first thing he noticed in every room.
at first he thought maybe you were busy then he realised you genuinely wouldnât look at him anymore unless you had to. it killed him, because he knew exactly why.
one afternoon during filming he caught sight of you laughing with natalia near craft services and for a second instinct almost took over. he almost walked over automatically like he used to.
then he watched your face change the second you spotted him approaching.
you looked away immediately and he stopped walking. that hurt more than he expected it to.
the truth was joe had hated every second of this for years now.
even during the relationship, even while he was choosing distance and convincing himself it was the right thing to do, he missed you constantly.
everything reminded him of you because for a while youâd been stitched into almost every part of his life without him realising it. music, movies, random streets in atlanta, dumb inside jokes nobody else understood.
heâd done what he thought he was supposed to do. tried to be respectful. tried to be loyal. tried to make his girlfriend feel secure.
and in the process he lost the person he actually wanted beside him.
the breakup had been horrible too. ugly in that exhausting drawn-out way where nobody was really innocent anymore. fights about trust. fights about you. eventually fights about the fact he clearly wasnât over whatever existed between you and him.
sheâd said it during their final argument.
âyou never looked at me the way you looked at her.â
and joe hated himself because he couldnât even deny it properly.
because selfishly, privately, he loved you. he probably always had.
not all at once, it happened slowly.
through years of choosing you first in his head without noticing. through wanting to tell you everything before anyone else. through every almost moment he buried because timing was bad or complicated or inconvenient.
and now heâd ruined it.
heâd finally written a song honest enough that people could see straight through him, and instead of bringing you back, it only pushed you further away.
one night after filming wrapped, joe sat alone in his trailer staring at his phone for almost twenty minutes before finally typing out a message.
i think you know the song is about you.
he stared at it then deleted it immediately.
because what right did he have to say that now?
-
by the time the song had been picked apart online for the third or fourth time, you were exhausted by it.
every interview seemed to circle back to the same thing, every comment section had decided it knew more about joe than joe ever said out loud and every time you saw his name next to yours your stomach did that awful little drop like your body was reacting before your mind could catch up.
you kept avoiding him.
you were suddenly always somewhere else when he walked in. always a little slower to answer if he spoke to you. always a little too busy, a little too tired, a little too focused on anything that did not involve joe keery standing six feet away with that look on his face like he had something to say and didnât know how to start.
-
it happened after a long day of filming, when everyone was tired and half the crew had already cleared out. you were heading toward your trailer with your bag over one shoulder, eyes fixed on the ground because you could feel him behind you before you even turned around.
âhey.â
you stopped.
his voice was quiet, almost cautious.
you looked back and there he was, standing a little too close already, hands shoved into his pockets like he was trying to keep himself from doing something impulsive.
âcan we talk?â
your mouth opened, then closed again. for a second your brain just lagged, trying to catch up with the fact that he was actually asking. actually standing there. actually looking at you like it mattered if you said yes.
âpleaseâ he added, softer this time.
that was the part that got you.
not the song, not the internet, not even the way your entire body had been bracing itself for this conversation for weeks, just the please.
so you nodded once, because that was easier than trusting your voice.
he let out a breath like he had been holding it for days.
you both sat on the steps outside your trailer because somehow that felt easier than being trapped inside a room. the air was cool, the kind of late-night quiet that made everything sound louder. somewhere farther down the lot, somebody was laughing. a door slammed. someone called for a wrap on another set. life kept moving around you like it always did, completely indifferent to the fact that your world had shrunk down to this one awkward stretch of silence between you and him.
for a while neither of you said anything.
you picked at the sleeve of your hoodie, joe stared out into the dark and then back at you and then away again like he was trying to find the right first sentence and none of them were good enough.
âthis has been awfulâ he said finally.
you gave a short, humorless laugh. âyeah.â
he nodded slowly. âi know i probably made it worse.â
you looked at him then, really looked at him, and saw that he meant it. no excuse in his face. no defensiveness. just tired honesty.
âa littleâ you said.
his mouth twitched, almost a smile, except there was too much regret in his eyes for it to fully land.
âthatâs fair.â
another pause, then, because he had always been better at saying things once he got started, he went on.
âi didnât mean to shut you out the way i did. i know that doesnât change it, but i need you to know that.â
your throat tightened a little. you didnât speak, so he kept going.
âi kept telling myself i was doing the right thing. for her, for me, whatever. i thought if i made enough space it would eventually stop being weird. and then it just⊠became normal. thatâs the stupid part.â he let out a breath and dropped his head for a second. âit got normal before i realised i was losing you.â
that hit harder than you expected because that was exactly what it had felt like from your side too. not one huge disaster. just a slow, quiet disappearance.
you folded your arms over your chest. âi understood why you did it.â
he looked at you immediately.
âthat doesnât mean it didnât hurt,â you said, voice lower now. âit felt like i mattered so little to you when i only got a text.â
his face changed at that. not in a dramatic way, just enough to show he heard it properly.
âi know,â he said. âi know. and i hate that i made you feel that way.â
you stared at the ground, blinking hard once. you had not expected this part to be easy. you just hadnât expected it to feel so bare either, like both of you had spent years carrying around the same ache and pretending the weight was lighter than it was.
he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
âi missed youâ he said.
the words were simple. that was what made them dangerous.
you looked at him again. âjoe-â
âno, seriously.â his voice was steadier now, like he had decided to stop backing away from it. âi missed talking to you, i missed you being around, i missed all of it. and i know i acted like i didnât, but i did. every day.â
something in your chest pulled tight.
you swallowed. âi missed you too.â
that did it. the wall between you shifted, just a little.
joe exhaled like he had been waiting to hear that for a very long time.
then he glanced at you, almost nervous again, and said, âthereâs something else i need to tell you.â
you already knew, or thought you did, but hearing it from him still made your stomach flip.
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the steps for a second before looking back at you.
âthe song was about you.â
you were quiet.
not because you were surprised that it was about you. part of you had known. maybe all of you had. the surprise was hearing him say it with no room left for interpretation.
âi wrote it after everything started feeling like it had gone wrong,â he said. âand when i was writing it, i kept thinking about how different i felt when i was with you. likeâŠâ he stopped, searching for the right words. âlike i was a better version of myself. less in my own head. less fake. more like me.â
you stared at him, suddenly aware of your heartbeat.
he kept going, voice low and honest now in a way that made it impossible to look away.
âand that line about chicago was never just about a place. it was about you. about going back and still feeling all of it. about realising that saying goodbye to you felt like saying goodbye to something that mightâve actually mattered. a beginning i never really let happen.â
your breath caught a little.
âjoe.â
he looked at you carefully, like he was bracing for you to pull away.
you didnât.
you were just shocked. not because you had never suspected there was something there, but because hearing him say it out loud changed the shape of everything. it made it real in a way the internet never could. more intimate. more painful. more hopeful, maybe, in the most terrifying way.
you laughed once, quietly, in disbelief. âthat is insane.â
he let out a tiny laugh too, relieved by it.
âyeah,â he said. âkind of.â
after that, the conversation stopped being about damage control and started being about everything else.
you talked about the weirdness of the last few years. about how strange it was that you could know everything about someoneâs schedule, their favorite coffee, the way they acted when they were tired, and still end up feeling like a stranger. you talked about set memories and dumb moments and how much had changed without either of you meaning for it to.
he told you things you hadnât known. how miserable he had been pretending he was fine, how often he had almost reached out and then convinced himself it would only make things worse, how he had read your messages from years ago more than once and hated how easy it had become to miss you.
you told him about the moments you had almost broken and texted him first.
the nights youâd seen something and thought, heâd get this. the times youâd laughed at something and then immediately felt stupid because there was no one left to explain it to. the way it had always been easier to be angry with him than to admit how deeply youâd missed him.
and the more you talked, the more familiar it all became.
not exactly the same, not yet, but enough.
joe started laughing again the way he used to, with his whole face, like he couldnât help it once he got going. you rolled your eyes at him the way you always had. he teased you about one of your old habits and you threw a crumpled napkin at his chest. he caught it, grinning, and for a second it felt like the years between you had folded in on themselves.
you stayed out there for hours.
by the time the lot had gone almost completely quiet, your shoulders had stopped being so tense. the conversation had drifted into smaller things, then into more serious ones again, then back to stupid stories and shared jokes. it felt less like catching up and more like rediscovering a language you had once spoken fluently and had somehow not forgotten after all.
when he smiled at you, it reached his eyes again.
when you laughed, it came easier.
something in the air between you changed that night, not all at once, but enough that you both felt it.
after that, joe started finding his way back into your life in the smallest ways first.
a text about nothing, a joke during a long shoot day, a coffee left near your chair without a word, a quiet question after wrap.
you answered.
not immediately. not perfectly. but enough.
and slowly, without either of you forcing it, the old rhythm began returning in fragments. not the exact same friendship you had before, because that belonged to another version of both of you. but something older and newer at once, built on honesty this time instead of assumption.
you started choosing each other again in all the small ways that mattered.
and eventually, that turned into something else too.
not a declaration just a look that lasted too long. a hand brushed against yours and stayed there. a night that ended with him walking you back and neither of you wanting it to end.
then another.
then another.
until it was no longer pretend, no longer vague, no longer hidden behind what-ifs and bad timing and old hurt.
it wasnât rushed, it wasnât announced, it just happened the way real things sometimes do. quietly and all at once.
and being with joe again, for real this time, felt nothing like starting over.
synopsis: since his very first days working with post animal, you had a feeling joe was gonna be big one day, bigger than just being the guy who plays 'steve harrington. you were all for it, why wouldn't you be? he was happy doing what he loved and it's not like he neglected you for it. well at least he didn't up until early 2024 when he started going "viral" and getting booked constantly for interviews and small showings at bars across the US, then 2025 when he went on tour for the crux, and now 2026 where he's leaving you again to open for tame. or, in which, joe starts to forget there's someone waiting for him at home, and you start to feel neglected because he's always busy and working.
cw/tags: angst / hurt/comfort (i lowkey donât even know the difference atp), established relationship (lowkey theyâve been together for longer than a decade so js imagine theyâre married, i didnât know how to incorporate that detail so i just left it alone), not proofread, lowercase intended
wc: 4.4k
suzi speaks: my favorite track both irl and in this event đ« also can you tel what i did with the header i felt so funny doing it ⊠get it cause its pre lobotomized joe next to a deer or something and a picture of a girl with deer⊠heh okay anyway also i highkey trailed off a bit from the set synopsis, sorry! i hate how this turned out wow itâs lit all background
div creds: @sisterlucifergraphics @pixopix ! | view thinkerbell's 100 follower special event, man's best friend ft. jkcu!
joe has always been busy. even before the acting jobs started becoming bigger and the crowds outside bars started getting larger, he was always moving, always chasing something. recording audition tapes at three in the morning in your shared, shabby apartment while trying not to wake you, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by notebooks full of lyrics and half-finished ideas, running from one tiny gig to another right after work with a coffee in one hand and his guitar case in the other.
and you loved that about him â you loved how badly he wanted things.
even back then, before everything became so public, joe had ambition stitched into him so deeply it practically bled through his skin. you remembered sitting on your tiny kitchen counter while he paced around the apartment rehearsing lines for some ad under his breath, stopping every few minutes to ask, âdoes that sound natural or do i sound like a boring salesman?â
youâd giggle every time. âi mean, you always sound a little like a mid age man.â
âcool,â heâd sigh dramatically, running a hand through his hair. âthatâs exactly what casting directors want.â
and then ten minutes later heâd crawl into bed exhausted, burying himself against your chest like the entire world stopped mattering the second he touched you.
but no matter how busy he got, no matter how many jobs or rehearsals or shows he had lined up, joe always came back to you.
heâd stumble through the apartment door past midnight smelling like cigarette smoke and cold air and cheap beer from whatever tiny bar heâd been performing at, kicking his shoes off halfway across the room before immediately finding you.
sometimes heâd barely even say hello.
heâd just collapse onto the couch beside you with a long groan, shoving his face into your neck while mumbling something incoherent.
âhi to you too,â youâd laugh softly, fingers slipping into his hair while you put your book down.
âmissed you,â heâd murmur against your skin.
âyou were gone for like four hours.â
âterrible experience. hated every second.â
and heâd say it so seriously too, voice muffled against your throat while his arms tightened around your waist dramatically until you were laughing harder.
back then, nights used to feel warm and endless. youâd stay up with him while he talked about everything that came up in his mind â music, movies, auditions, stupid customers from the restaurant he worked at for three months before quitting.
sometimes heâd pull you into his lap while talking, absentmindedly playing with your fingers while rambling on and on about whatever new song he and his friends were working on.
and every single time, it ended the same way.
him stopping mid sentence just to stare at you with a soft adoration behind his eyes.
âwhat?â youâd mumble eventually, smiling shyly under the attention.
ânothing,â heâd say quietly. âjust like looking at you.â
from the very first months of you dating, you knew youâd love him forever, even when things started changing. even when his name started spreading across the globe on tv screens.
it wasnât like joe was unknown before everything happened. he already had people recognizing him occasionally, already had small crowds after shows, already had fans waiting outside venues asking for pictures while he stood there awkwardly blushing through every interaction.
but then stranger things happened and nothing was really âsmallâ or intimate anymore, everyone knew him.
excluding all the social media notifications that would blow up joes phone during dinner together, the first time you actually realized things were changing was after one of his shows.
for some reason, joe had especially wanted you to come to this one, saying something about how, âthis venues the biggest one weâve been invited to.â
so you called off work and showed up â thatâs just what you did for each other.
the venue was tiny meaning people were packed shoulder-to-shoulder and incredibly sweaty, mumbling lyrics they thought they knew while colored lights flashed across his face. you stood near the side of the stage watching him perform, smiling every time his eyes found yours in the crowd because somehow, they always did.
and later, after the show ended, you were waiting near the side exit while joe packed up backstage, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone while muffled voices echoed through the hallway.
you looked up at the sound of feet shuffling thinking it was joe, but instead you saw a girl around your age stood frozen a few feet away staring toward the backstage door with wide eyes and both hands covering her mouth.
âholy shit,â she whispered to her friend. âthatâs literally steve harrington.â
you brows lifted immediately and you couldnât help but immediately put your phone away to listen in more.
before you could even shuffle closer, joe walked out carrying his guitar case over one shoulder, still flushed from performing.
the second the girl made eye contact with him, she looked seconds away from exploding.
âiâm so sorry,â she blurted out instantly. âi just, oh my god, i loved you in stranger things.â
joe immediately froze and stopped walking, knowing him, his heart was probably doing a marathon.
his eyes widened almost comically. âwait, really?â
at the time, the expression on his face had you cheesing bad. every time he was in pure disbelief, his big eyes widened and became even more cuter.
the girl nodded rapidly. âyeah! me and my friends watched it together and we literally freaked out when we saw you were playing here.â
joe blinked once like his brain genuinely couldnât process the sentence.
âthatâs really cool,â he said honestly, rubbing the back of his neck with this shy little smile that immediately made your chest ache. âseriously, thank you.â
you could see it happening in real time. the realization settling over him slowly that people knew him.
not just from local shows or auditions or just because he was âthat guitarist from that one band.â
they knew him.
the girl asked nervously if she could take a picture with him and joe looked genuinely honored by the request.
âyeah,â he answered immediately. âof course.â
he nearly dropped his guitar trying to set it down fast enough.
you had to bite back a laugh while watching him smooth down his big and messy hair quickly beforehand like he suddenly remembered he existed physically.
afterward, once the girl finally left practically glowing from excitement, joe just stood there staring after her for a second before he turned toward you.
at the time, you genuinely thought he was going to start crying.
âdid that just happen?â he asked quietly.
you smiled so hard your face hurt. âmhm.â
âshe knew who i was.â
there was something so vulnerable about the way he said it like he was shocked that he was out there and people actually liked him.
your chest tightened immediately.
âbaby,â you laughed softly, raising your hand to settle it on top of his own.
joe looked at you with this overwhelmed expression before suddenly grabbing your face with both hands.
âshe knew me.â
âi gathered that, yeah.â
âholy shit.â then he kissed you hard, his sweaty hands planted onto your face and eyes squeezed shut because he was trying not to cry ⊠seriously.
for a while after that, everything felt good. like life had finally cracked open for him the way he always dreamed about.
joe started getting booked for bigger, more serious auditions. heâd walk around the apartment trying to act casual even though you both knew he was probably freaking out with butterfliesbswarming his insides.
and joe was a stress cleaner, so during this time especially, the house was spotless.
sometimes youâd walk into the kitchen at midnight and find him aggressively wiping down counters that were already clean while muttering lines under his breath.
âyouâre doing the thing again,â youâd yawn one night, shuffling into the kitchen wearing one of his old shirts.
joe looked up immediately. âwhat thing?â
âstress cleaning.â
âiâm not stress cleaning.â
you stared pointedly at the spotless counter in front of him.
ââŠokay maybe a little.â
you laughed softly, walking over until your arms slid around his waist from behind. instantly, his shoulders relaxed.
âyouâre gonna do good tomorrow,â you murmured against his back.
joe sighed dramatically. âwhat if i bomb so hard they blacklist me from hollywood forever?â
âbaby, itâs an audition for a toothpaste commercial.â
âexactly.â he turned in your arms suddenly, grabbing your face with both hands. âoral hygiene is important.â
you couldnât help but let out a snort before laughing regularly after.
you didnât realize it, never did, but every time you laughed, joe would look at you with this stupidly soft expression, like your laughter alone could keep him alive.
âthere she is,â heâd mumble quietly whenever you laughed really hard. âpretty girl.â
moments like these back then are what made you so adamant on the belief that nothing could ever get between the two of you.
even as stranger things started pulling joe further into the spotlight, even as his music started gaining more traction and interviews slowly became a regular part of his life instead of a rare exciting occurrence, he still came home to you the exact same way he always had.
stumbling into your guysâ apartment after long days looking completely exhausted with messy hair and sleepy eyes, tossing his bag onto the floor before immediately searching for you.
sometimes youâd barely get a âhiâ before he was collapsing onto the couch beside you, wrapping himself around your body dramatically while groaning into your shoulder.
âmissed you,â heâd mumble, warms lips pressing into your freshly lotioned skin.
youâd laugh softly every single time because he always sounded so serious about it.
maybe thatâs also why the loneliness has been hitting you hard recently.
joe still loves you the same way he did back then.
nothing about him has actually changed at his core. heâs still affectionate to the point of ridiculousness, still reaches for your hand absentmindedly whenever heâs near you, still looks for you first in crowded rooms like itâs instinct instead of thought.
even now, after exhausting press days and flights and interviews and recording sessions that leave him barely functioning, he still comes home and immediately folds himself into you like his body only fully relaxes once heâs touching you again.
but lately, every time he âcomes homeâ, it barely lasts long enough to make it actually feel real. he just feels like a guest now.
as stranger things keeps getting bigger and joe starts building more for himself outside of it with his music, his life starts moving at a speed neither of you really know how to keep up with.
you try so hard to be the âsupporting and understandingâ girlfriend. you tell yourself this is temporary. that this is what happens when someoneâs dreams are finally coming true. you remind yourself that years ago the two of you used to lay awake in your tiny apartment talking about this exact future, joe rambling excitedly about wanting to act more seriously, wanting to make music people actually cared about, wanting to create something meaningful enough to leave behind.
and now heâs actually doing it, so why does it hurt you so much?
the distance never even feels dramatic enough to actually justify your sadness. itâs more of the little things that come with it.
the little absences or moments where you reach for him in bed before realizing heâs off sleeping in a hotel somewhere.
you start noticing how often you eat dinner alone now. how many nights end with you curled up in bed staring at the ceiling while his side stays cold for another week. how conversations slowly start revolving around his schedule instead of your silly little conversations.
you remember all the same apologies:
âi land thursday.â
âi leave again monday.â
âstudio ran late.â
âbaby, iâm sorry, i completely lost track of time.â
every time you think about cutting off the supportive girlfriend act, you remind yourself that none of this is even on purpose.
you can hear it in his voice during late night facetime calls when heâs sitting in some hotel room halfway across the world, curls damp from a rushed shower while exhaustion hangs visibly beneath his eyes.
âtalk to me,â he murmurs one night, laying back against stiff white pillows while the dim hotel lamp casts shadows across his face.
you smile softly. âabout what?â
âanything.â his eyes stay fixed on you through the screen. âjust miss hearing your voice.â
your chest aches so bad every time that you have to take a breather for a second.
you miss him too, constantly.
you miss him while grocery shopping because you pass snacks he likes and instinctively reach for them before remembering he wonât even be home to eat them on time.
you miss him when you wake up from a bad dream in the middle of the night and your hand lands on cold sheets instead of his chest.
you miss him during stupid insignificant moments that shouldnât matter as much as they do.
sometimes the missing starts turning into resentment before you can stop it.
not towards him though, but more towards the situation itself â that random strangers get to see your husband (a/n: see how i incorporated that ayooo đ) more than you do.
every time the feeling appears, you feel a rush of guilt afterwards because you are so unbelievably proud of him and how far heâs come.
you still remember the first time someone recognized him after a show and the way his entire face lit up afterward like he couldnât fully believe people cared.
you remember how hard he worked for this and how badly he wanted it.
so every time loneliness creeps into your chest, guilt follows right behind it.
which means you stop thinking about it entirely. what are you even supposed to say? âhey, i know your career is finally taking off and your dreams are coming true, but iâm starting to feel lonely enough to cry over your side of the bed smelling like you?â
it was just pathetic.
so instead, you adapt.
you start pretending facetime is enough intimacy to survive on.
you start memorizing time zones.
you start measuring relationships through flight schedules and countdowns and âonly two more weeksâ instead of actual time spent together.
the scary part is how normal it starts feeling.
until one night youâre sitting alone in your apartment at nearly three in the morning waiting for a phone call that was supposed to happen hours ago.
until one day you look around and realize youâve been missing someone whoâs technically still yours the entire time.
today, joeâs coming home.
and that thought alone has you up before the world even remembers how to breathe, staring at the ceiling while pale morning light leaks through the curtains in thin, trembling stripes across the bedâhis side still untouched, still perfectly made the way itâs been for three months, like the mattress itself has been holding its breath.
your alarm goes off and you kill it instantly, sitting up slow, rubbing at your face like you can physically erase the anticipation buzzing under your skin. the apartment is too quiet in that way that makes your ears ring, and you hate how normal that silence has become.
all you can think about right now is how joeâs finally coming home.
itâs been three months. ninety-something days of facetime calls freezing mid-laugh, of falling asleep to the noise outside because silence got too loud, of reaching across cold sheets half-asleep and remembering, over and over, that no one is there. you stopped cooking proper meals somewhere along the way because it felt absurd feeding just yourself when your brain still expected two forks, you started sleeping on his side of the bed because his pillow still faintly remembered him if you pressed close enough, like memory had a scent.
you spend the morning finding something to do with your hands. cleaning the kitchen twice, changing the sheets, scrubbing down every surface in the already clean bathroom â the house is spotless but you keep going and going, not knowing what else to do.
by two-thirty, youâre outside the airport, fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm against the steering wheel while people spill in and out in waves.
after a while of waiting with your cheek pressed against the rim of the steering wheel, you see him.
heâs there walking out the airport, messy curls shoved under a beanie, jacket slipping off one shoulder from the weight of his bag, post airplane exhaustion carved into his face. his eyes scan the crowd of cars and the second they land on you sitting in the car, his chest moves out like heâs exhaling a deep breath.
âpretty girl,â he breathes.
youâre out of the car before your brain can stop you and remind you youâre in public, crashing into him hard enough that he stumbles back a step before catching you instantly, arms locking around your waist like muscle memory, lifting you slightly like he canât believe youâre actually here.
âyou smell like sweat,â you mumble into his neck, voice already shaking.
he laughs into your hair, tired and warm and alive. âi missed you too, baby.â
and it hits you then, sharp and clean in your chest, that he is real, that this is not a screen or a frozen voice or a delayed signal, but warmth and rings pressing against your back like proof.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes softer than anything youâve known in months. âhi.â
your throat tightens. âhi.â
then heâs pulling you in again like letting go before burned him. âmissed you so bad,â he whispers, and you almost laugh because you want to make a funny comment that you talked six hours ago, but you were too focused on relishing in his touch.
-
the first week feels okay, normal even.
joe still leaves his hoodie on chairs without thinking, still eats off your plate without asking, still falls asleep on the couch and wakes up reaching for you immediately like itâs instinct.
you laugh and breathe easier than you used to when he was gone, and for a little while it worked. everything felt kinda like how it used to.
well, until the small changes youâd grown accustomed to started popping up.
itâs around three in the morning when joe wakes up to movement beside him, sleep still heavy in his bones, only to find you already halfway out of bed.
âbaby?â his voice is rough, confused.
you pause at the doorway, one hand on the frame, eyes barely open. âsorry, didnât mean to wake you.â
âwhereâre you going?â
âcouch.â you reply simply, as if this was not something youâd only do if you two were in a bad fight.
joeâs chest tightens immediately. âwhat?â
you blink at him slowly. âi had a nightmare. didnât wanna wake you.â
thereâs a silence that feels too long, too sharp. like heâs waiting for the rest of you to show up in the sentence. it doesnât.
so he sits up fully, pushing the blanket off. âcâmere.â
âjoe, itâs okay-â
âbaby.â he says softer now, but not asking anymore.
you hesitate, then climb back in, and the second youâre near him he pulls you into his chest like heâs afraid youâll disappear mid-breath, one hand in your hair, the other dragging slow circles down your back.
âyou can wake me up,â he murmurs.
you nod against him, already drifting. âi know.â
but he stays awake long after, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what couldâve brought this up.
-
another night, rain is tapping softly against glass while joe sits on the couch with his guitar half-forgotten in his lap when he hears you in the kitchen.
he looks over to see youâre making tea, wrapped up in one of his hoodies.
he watches without saying anything at first, mostly because heâs missed this view, just following the rhythm of you â kettle, mug, spoon, honey, steam rising like a thought you donât notice youâre having.
then he sees it. thereâs only one mug, not two.
his fingers stop on the strings. this probably doesnât seem like an anomaly to an outsider, but it is to joe. you guys always have tea together, he doesnât even think thereâs been a single time you havenât. before the big gaps of distance, there were always two.
âbaby?â he says softly.
you glance over. âhm?â
âyou didnât make mine.â
you look down like youâre surprised thereâs only one in your hands. âoh. i didnât know if you wanted any.â
and something in him justâŠsinks, a heavy realization settling into his bones.
he sets the guitar down carefully. âcâmere.â
you come over slowly, sitting beside him. he takes your hand immediately, thumb brushing over your knuckles like heâs trying to memorize whatâs changed.
âwhat?â you laugh nervously.
he doesnât answer right away. just studies you like heâs reading a version of you he doesnât recognize but desperately wants to understand.
he takes a shaky breath in then carefully asks, âdid something happen while i was gone?â
your smile falters. âwhat do you mean?â
âyou just seemâŠdifferent.â
âiâm not.â you defend, a bit too fast.
âbaby, youâve been sleeping on my side of the bed,â he says quietly.
your eyes flick up.
âyou donât wake me up anymore when you have bad dreams. you just leave.â his voice cracks a little. âyou apologized for being in the kitchen yesterday.â
you go still because you donât remember that at all, even the part where you sleep on his side of the bed.
your eyes flick up immediately. âi donât remember that.â
thatâs the moment his expression shifts slightly because thatâs not something you should be forgetting.
âyou seem different,â he says more quietly now.
you force a small breath out. âiâm fine.â
he shakes his head once. âno, youâre not really answering me.â
you look away. âi just got used to being alone.â
the admission slips out before you can stop it and the second it does, joe goes completely still.
âwhat do you mean you got used to being alone?â he asks, softer now, but thereâs tension underneath it.
you swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady, trying not to let anything show. âi didnât mean it like that.â
âthen explain it,â he says gently.
you try. you really do. but it comes out uneven, messy, like your brain canât organize it fast enough. âit just⊠felt like i was by myself most of the time and i didnât want to keep telling you that when you were working and you sounded happy and i didnât want to make you feel bad for something youâbe worked years forâ
your voice starts to crack at the end of it, and you immediately try to push it down, inhale sharper, blink faster, like you can force it back into place.
joeâs face drops completely. âbabyâŠâ
you shake your head quickly, already trying to stop it before it fully happens. âi didnât mean- i didnât want to make it weird, i just-â
youâre trying to keep your voice steady, but your voice breaks anyway.
your eyes immediately glass over and you look down like that will fix it, jaw tightening like youâre physically holding yourself together, shoulders stiff like if you move wrong youâll fall apart completely.
joe is already moving.
âhey,â he says immediately, voice low and urgent but careful, like heâs approaching something fragile. âhey, look at me.â
you try to answer but it comes out uneven. âiâm fine, iâm fine, i just-â
another crack in your form, but now itâs worse because youâre actively trying not to cry, which makes your breathing worse, which makes everything worse.
joe gently reaches for your face, both hands cupping your cheeks, forcing you to look at him but not in a harsh wayâjust steady.
âyou donât have to hold it in right now, baby,â he says quietly.
your breath shakes and you turn your face slightly like youâre trying to hide it but itâs already happening, tears spilling over despite how hard youâre trying not to let them.
âi didnât want to make it your problem,â you say, voice cracking completely now.
joe shakes his head immediately. âno. donât do that.â
you try to speak again but it falls apart halfway through and he pulls you in before you can finish it, arms tight around you, one hand at the back of your head, the other pressing you into his chest like heâs trying to make sure thereâs no space left for you to pull away.
you break fully against him now, quiet sobs that you clearly tried to hold back for too long, shoulders shaking as you finally let yourself lean into him completely.
joe doesnât move away even a little.
âiâve got you,â he keeps saying under his breath, over and over, like heâs trying to overwrite every second you were alone. âiâve got you, iâve got you.â
you clutch his shirt like youâre afraid youâll slip back into that version of being alone if you let go.
he holds you tighter. âiâm sorry,â he says quietly into your hair.
you shake your head against him. âdonât be.â
âi shouldâve seen it,â he says, voice rough now, less steady. âi shouldâve noticed sooner.â
you try to pull back slightly but he keeps you close, just enough space to see your face, and he wipes your tears with his thumbs like itâs the only thing he can focus on.
âyou donât have to disappear when iâm gone,â he says softly, firm but not angry. âyou donât have to shrink yourself into something smaller just because iâm busy.â
you breathe unevenly, still trying to stop crying even though itâs already happening.
âi didnât want to ruin your work,â you whisper.
joe shakes his head immediately. âlisten to me.â he pauses, forehead almost touching yours again. âyouâre not something i fit into my life. youâre part of it. youâre the part i come back to. youâre the point.â
you stare at him, still shaking slightly, still trying to steady yourself.
he presses a slow kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple, then one to your cheek, lingering each time like heâs making sure you feel it instead of just hearing it.
âyouâre not alone in this,â he says quietly. ânot with me.â
summary. You and Joe broke up a year ago. Now both of you are invited to James Cordenâs show: Spill Your Guts, where you and Joe find out about some things you didnât tell each other before.
warnings & tags. You and Joe are exes! inspired in Harry Styles and Kendall Jennerâs video. pet names. mention of reader with a gap tooth smile. fluff. english isnât my first language.
a/n. hiii! i MIGHT make a part 2 of this, buuut im not so sure. however hope you love it and if feel like making a request youâre totally invited to!! also credits to the owners of the dividers!!
masterlist
Life had a way of twisting unexpectedly, surprising you more with each passing day. Now more than ever.
A long, wide table stretched before you, lined with dishes that faced the round table where you sat. You were on one side, wearing a confident smile. One that the man across from you knew better than anyone. It was a fake smile that tried to look secure.
You and Joe had started your relationship while filming the third season of Stranger Things. From that moment on, you became inseparable. Wherever you were, Joe was never far behind. While he performed onstage, singing his heart out, you were always in the audience with a genuine smile, watching him.
Your relationship became something people envied. Many fans âor even the oppositeâ loved seeing you together. The affection and love you shared were so strong that it showed in every interview and every photo.
It stayed that way for years. Until, at some point, the distance between you became impossible to ignore. It became impossible to see each other, or even find a few hours to talk.
The decision had been made. As painful as it was to admit, as much as tears fell from your eyes and sobs escaped your lips, the relationship couldnât continue.
Still, you both agreed that breaking up didnât mean disappearing from each otherâs lives. And thatâs how you ended up on The Late Late Show with James Corden, ready to ask each other uncomfortable questions or eat disgusting food to avoid answering.
âLong time no see,â Joe murmured to you with a crooked smile.
No one really knew why you had broken up. Neither of you said anything once the relationship ended, so countless unconfirmed theories spread across the internet.
âLetâs get this done, Joe,â you said softly, shaking your head at his words. âI canât believe I actually agreed to this.â
Joe smiled at the audience, then back at you. âDonât you think it wouldâve been better to just go to a normal restaurant and talk?â he joked, resting his elbow on the table and covering his mouth with his hand.
The dishes on the table looked worse one after another. Just the smell reaching your nose was enough to make you grimace.
âLetâs take a look at the food we have on the table,â Joe said again, laughing softly at your expression. âFirst, we have Bug Trifle.â He looked at the audience, who reacted with disgust.
âYeah. Ew,â you repeated, scrunching your nose.
Together, you and Joe began naming each dish resting on the table. The audience, meanwhile, noticed the tension-filled glances between you.
âWell, ladies first, donât you think?â Joe tilted his head, smiling mischievously, though in truth, there was nothing but warmth behind it.
âAlways so polite,â you raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.
Joe began spinning the table, searching for the perfect dish for you. âIâll take a card with one of the questions. The producers didnât tell us what theyâd be, so I take no responsibility for anything,â he said, directing the last part to the audience. âOh, I have the perfect one. Iâll give you the 1000 year old eggnog.â
Your eyes widened in horror at the dish heâd chosen.
âOh, no,â you whispered, tilting your head.
âIâm actually so sorry for this.â He let out a nasal laugh, his smile dropping into a guilty grimace.
You waited as Joe grabbed a card. The moment he opened it, he laughed. A laugh you knew perfectly well. It meant he found something interesting, something he knew would draw attention.
âWhich cast member have you connected with the most, and which the least?â Joe read the card, then looked at you, hiding half his face behind the paper.
âOh my god. What?â You lifted your head in surprise. There was no way you could answer that without ending up in trouble. âIââ You stopped, unsure what to do.
âOh, come on. I think I could answer that question with all the information I have,â he teased, biting the inside of his cheek.
Of course he could. Joe knew every detail about you, just like you knew every detail about him. He knew exactly what answer was running through your mind.
âYou know I canât answer this even if I knew what to say,â you raised your eyebrows, frowning. You glanced at the audience, who were shouting that you should drink. âYou guys are evil.â
Without thinking too much, you grabbed the glass filled with a thick, viscous liquid and took a sip of the green contents.
âOh god. She did it!â Joe raised both arms as the audience erupted in cheers.
âDonât smile too much. Itâs your turn,â you said, watching his smirk grow even wider.
âAll yours,â he gestured toward the table, though deep down, you suspected his words carried another meaning.
âIâm all yours, baby,â he had once said, caressing your cheek, his face inches from yours. âIâll forever be, love.â
You remembered those words, his gaze locked on yours. Your skin prickled at the memory, and you forced yourself to ignore it as you spun the table, searching for the right dish.
âOkay, great. My turn. Iâll do the Cod Sperm,â you said, wrinkling your lips at the plate. You grabbed a card and laughed at the question. âDo you think Steve shouldâve ended up with Nataliaâs character or mine?â
âOh, easy. I think it was perfect that he ended up with you. I mean, come on. They were just perfect for each other. I donât think anyone couldâve been a better option,â he said, extending his hands to emphasize his point.
When he finished, he looked at you again with a soft smile. Your palms grew sweaty around the card. Those were the same words heâd told you while filming the final season of Stranger Things. Except back then, heâd added, âTheyâre perfect for each other⊠just like we are, baby.â
âYeahâŠâ you managed, smiling softly before laughing at the audienceâs reaction.
They loved you both, and it was obvious they missed your relationship. Though not as much as you missed it yourselves, and perhaps that was what hurt the most.
âAlright. Itâs my turn now,â Joe said, looking at the table like a mischievous child. âIâll give you the Salmon Smoothie.â
âOh god. I hate salmon,â you bit your lip, staring at the glass.
âShit, thatâs true. I totally forgot.â He began spinning the table again, not waiting for your input.
His eyes darted between dishes, searching for a better option. You smiled and placed your hands on the tableâs edge to stop it. âItâs fine, Joe. I actually think thatâs the best option out of all of this.â
He laughed, turning his gaze back to you. âYou sure?â he asked, watching you with a hint of concern. When you nodded casually, he smiled again. âOkay, letâs do it.â
Joe grabbed another card. As soon as he read it, his eyebrows lifted with interest. A teasing smile appeared on his face as he held the card to his chest. âWho has been the best kisser out of all the projects youâve worked on?â he asked, raising a brow.
The audience gasped with excitement, but your eyes stayed locked on his. You shook your head slightly, though a laugh escaped your lips.
He knew the answer. Of course he knew.
âI donât think I want to try the Salmon Smoothie, so⊠fine, Iâll answer,â you said, earning applause from the audience. âItâs probably you, Joe KeeryâŠâ You crossed your arms and shrugged, trying to downplay it. But Joe saw right through you. Your lip bite, your fidgeting fingers, all the little habits you had when you were nervous.
âIâm so honored, honey. Thank you.â The nickname slipped out before he could stop it.
You tilted your head at his response but pretended not to notice. You spun the table again, searching for your next choice.
âThis one looks so yummy,â you said playfully, sliding the dish in front of him. âThe Bug Trifle.â
His expression twisted in disgust as he covered his nose. âIâm going to get revenge, I promise,â he warned, eyes fixed on the plate.
âItâs not that bad. You could just answer the questionâŠâ You grabbed the card, and your eyes widened. You covered your mouth to hide your laughter, failing miserably. âI really want to know the answer.â
âOh god.â
âWhich of your songs is completely about me?â
Joe opened his mouth, then closed it again, processing your words. He licked his lips, smiling as the audience reacted.
âYou really wanna know, huh?â He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands under his chin. He glanced at the plate, then back at you.
âI didnât make the questions! This is what the people want to know,â you said, shrinking into your shoulders.
âYeah!â âTotally!â the audience shouted.
When the room finally quieted, Joe sighed. âI actually donât think this is that hard to guess.â He bit his lip, looking at you calmly. âItâs Gap Tooth Smile, kids.â He turned to the audience with a smile.
Seconds later, a portion of the song played through the speakers.
âI know thatâs my future lookinâ right back at me
I see right through your skin
Yes, I know who you are
Frame up on my baby, sheâs my superstar
Big heart, all smile
Come on pretty baby, letâs last a whileâ
You knew the song had come out a few months before your breakup. Joe had never directly told you it was about you, but you always danced to it together in the kitchen while cooking dinner, or in the car on the way to set. Deep down, you knew.
Joe smiled as he listened. âYeah⊠that one.â
The audience applauded, cheered, and whistled. But Joe only smiled at you, squinting slightly, silently asking if youâd expected him to answer. You shrugged with a smile that matched his.
âOkay, letâs get this done. Iâm gonna give you the Bull Penis, looks delicious,â he joked, sliding the dish toward you. Then he grabbed a card. âWho is the most surprising celeb to ever slide into your DMs?â
The audience reacted loudly. Joe glanced at them, then at you, waiting. He thought he knew the answer âyouâd talked about it beforeâ but maybe something new had happened in the past few months.
You covered your mouth, reacting to the crowd. âI have my answer, but I donât think I should say it,â you admitted, feeling your cheeks burn.
âItâs okay, you donât have to answer,â he said, waving it off. Then he pointed at the dish. âBut you canât run from that.â
You pinched your nose as the smell hit you, then quickly took a bite to get it over with.
âThere you go!â Joe encouraged, clapping as the audience joined in.
You drank water, then looked back at him. You couldnât help smiling at his reaction. Your heart raced every time he looked at you with that familiar smile.
Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away and returned to the table. âI think the Giant Water Scorpion is a good option,â you said, spinning the table.
âLooks delicious,â Joe replied sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.
âOh, JoeâŠâ you said with feeling as you read the question. You wondered why these questions had to be so intense, but you continued anyway. âHave you written any songs about me since we broke up?â
Joe stared at you without blinking as the room fell silent. Then, without warning, he grabbed the dish youâd chosen for him and took a bite.
You gasped in surprise, then burst into laughter at his reaction. âHe did it!â you told the audience, laughing.
Both of you stood from your seats, moving to stand side by side as you waved at the crowd. Joe said a few final words, and you followed.
Once the farewell ended, you began walking toward the exit. You could feel Joe close behind you, his footsteps perfectly audible until you also felt his breath against your neck and ear.
I'd like to request something doesn't need to be written if you're not interested in the idea!
Joe is invited to this show in a Latin country can be anywhere you decide! And it's a show where joe meets reader she's like a host but shes also very known in that country because of her modeling and songs. And they both explore the city together kinda like a date. The reader knows English and the home country's language so shes translating for joe and also teaching joe at most times and throughout the day joe starts to catch feelings bit by bit and so does the reader and at the end of the night you can pick what happens between them!
I tried to write this in a way that made sense my English isn't that great sorry if its a bit confusing!
hearts4steve stop combining asks challenge GO !! i kinda did a blend of both asks, if any of you want to see your own ask fulfilled separately do not hesitate to send it in!!! i decided to write this the way i did so i could have it be a prequel to the instagram au
also very important to note i have not taken french in like 4 years and iâve completely forgotten everything đđ all translations are google translate sue me whoops
àȘâ⎠feelings in paris
joe keery x reader
prequel to this
your podcast wasnât meant for a list celebrities.
with you being one of the most famous models in france, you knew you had influence over people. so you invited up and coming artists, actors, and influencers that you could see potential in.
people you could help expand their network.
after a while, it became a fact that anyone that were to guest on your podcast shits n giggles would walk out of your studio with brand deals and guaranteed fame.
youâre best friend, lily, hosted the podcast alongside you. sometimes, youâre social battery would run out mid-session, and sheâd be right there to pick up where you left off.
itâs safe to say you and her were baffled when you got a dm from joe keery asking to be on your show alongside his bandmates.
this was highly unusual. people didnât ask to be invited, you scouted them. joe keery isnât the type of person to get scouted, heâs already out there. also, most of the people you invited over were french. your podcast was kinda for the people by the people.
lily could barely english, which meant if you invited them over, your brain would have to be on all the time.
definitely worth it.
you and lily definitely opted for a more cosy setup rather than a practical one. the room had 3 different rugs and an insane amount of throw pillows and teddy bears littered on the two couches present.
little trinkets adorned the shelves right above where the guests usually sit.
the coffee table held an assortment of snacks and mugs of the guests preferred drink.
your guests, joe keery, wesley toledo, and javi reyes all asked for straight black coffee. none of that white mocha caramel syrup almond milk nonsense your younger guests usually opted for.
lily set the mugs on the table fluffed a throw pillow, and adjusted the blanket sitting on the arm of the chair.
you ignored her and turned to look towards the door. âje crois que je les entends arriver.â i think i hear them coming in.
she sighed and walked towards you to greet joe and his bandmates.
the second they stepped in, lily ran over to them and gave them exaggerated hugs and kisses on cheeks. very french. too french. you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.
she started rambling in french and the three men stared at her with wide eyes.
âlily!â you laughed nervously. âiâm sorry about herâsheâs just very⊠passionate.â
âoui!â nodded lily.
joeâs eyebrows flew to the top of his forehead, recognition flickering in his eyes. âi know that one.â
âhopefully by the end of today youâll know some more.â you laughed. âplease! come sit.â you pointed towards the long couch.
you made sure the all microphones were on and the lighting wasnât too dim or too harsh before you sat down with a sigh, unbeknownst to joeâs amused glances.
âso, joe, wesley, and jarviââ
âjoe and co.â lily giggled.
âexactement!â exactly nodded wesley.
lily let out an excited gasp. âtu parles français?â you speak french?
he nodded and gave her a sheepish smile. âma reum elle vient de france.â my grandmaâs from france.
âheyâat least lily can actually talk to someone!â you grinned, nudging your friends shoulder.
âyes! talk!â lily nodded.
âdo any of you speak french?â you asked joe and jarvi.
jarvi immediately shook his head.
âun peu.â a little admitted joe. then immediately, âno, not even.â
you opened your mouth to start asking them questions about touring and such when joe beat you to it. âdid you decorate yourself?â
âuh, yeah! lily helped with the layout but i picked everything out.â you nodded.
âbeautiful.â he blurted. âwhat youâve done with the place.â he waved a hand around.
a light pink dusted your cheeks. âthank you.â
lily looked at you with her eyebrows up to her forehead before she turned to look at jarvi and wesley, who were looking at joe with the same expression.
âhave you always lived in paris?â joe asked.
âi used to live in la for a while to jumpstart my modeling career but i missed paris too much.â
âno kidding!â he grinned. âi lived in la too. from 2017 till 2022? noâ2023.â
âi lived there 2018!â you gasped.
âno way!â he turned to look at jarvi and wesley with a look that said âcan you believe this?â. âoh, man, what a coincidence.â
you turned to lily and explained that you and joe lived in la during the same time.
she wigged her eyebrows at you and you pinched her thigh discreetly. she hissed and grumbled.
the hour slotted for their interview went by with joe asking you more questions than you did him.
you hadnât even noticed until you went over the footage to edit it.
you didnât believe it when lily told you he was shamelessly flirting with you until you were able to look at the interaction from an outsiders point of view.
you needed to see him again.
apparently, he thought so too.
djotime hey
djotime is les puces market any good?
yourusername hihi
yourusername itâs the best especially on sunday mornings
djotime really? heard i should monday afternoon
yourusername who lied to you đđ thatâs like the worst day to go
yourusername tell u what, iâll take u there on sunday so u donât get lied to when ur there too
you threw your phone across the bed, hiding your face in your pillow. what possessed you to be so forward? heâs probably so weirded out. heâs gonna ghost you and deservedly so, because who acts like thatâ
djotime itâs a date
you squealed into your pillow like a high school girl and couldnât wait for sunday to come around fast enough.
you changed your outfit three times before finally settling. you wouldâve changed it a fourth time had you not noticed that you were running late.
by the time you got to the market, your heart was beating so hard it could power paris. you found joe waiting by the entrance. you took a deep breath and walked towards him.
âhey.â
he looked up from his phone, a smile forming on his face at the sight of you.
âiâm sorry iâm lateâi didnât know what to wear.â you admitted sheepishly.
âyou look nice.â he compliment. âyou look beautiful.â
âyou donât look too bad yourself.â you grinned.
he extended his hand. âgot you coffee. lily told me this is your favorite place. orâshe told wes and he told me.â
âthank you!â you took the cup out of his hands. âyou didnât get one for yourself?â
ânah,â he shook his head. âwalking and coffee isnât a good mix.â
âi had the same problemâturns out i just needed to change the coffee beans!â
âwere you using robusta bean?â
âyeah!â you nodded. âi switched to arabica. you should try and let me know how it works out for you.â
you and joe were more similar than you thought.
you walked around the market for around an hour before it started getting too crowded. the vendors kept trying to rip you two off because, well, they know you can afford it, but joe quickly learned that you are an exceptional negotiator.
you heard joeâs stomach grumble and you took him to your favorite restaurant. âmy mom used to take me here when i was younger. it was part of the reason as to why i moved back to paris, actually.â you informed as you entered the building.
âreally?â
âmhm.â you nodded. âthey have awesome sandwiches. couldnât find anything like it in la.â
you both went on a tangent about how la isnât really as great as everyone made it out to be. sure, it presented you with a shit ton of opportunities, but your hearts always longed for home.
the ownerâan old lady pushing 80âcame running to you two.
she gasped your name and pulled you in to give you a kiss on the cheek. âoh lĂ lĂ !â oh my!
joe raised a curious eyebrow. he didnât have to be fluent in french to know this old lady was interested in something.
your eyes widened and you shook your head vigorously. joe was really interested upon seeing your entire face flush.
ânon, non ! c'est juste un pote. il est en visite des states, alors je lui fais visiter le coin, quoi.â no, no! heâs just a friend. heâs visiting from the states, so iâm showing him around.
joe speculated you two were talking about him. why else would you bring up the states?
âun pote, hein? ouais, bon. assieds-toi, mon chou.â she stopped and turned to look at joe. ât'es canon. tes gosses seraient tropâ." a friend, huh? okay then, dear. go take a seat. youâre handsome. your kids would look soâ
âokay!â you chuckled nervously, clapping your hands together. âletâs go sit down.â
âwhat was she saying?â joe asked, curious.
âjust saying she hasnât seen me in a long time.â then you added quietly, âand that she thinks youâre handsome.â
joe grinned, smug. âcanât hear you.â
you narrowed your eyes at him. he so heard you. âshe said youâre handsome.â
âoh, yeah. thatâs what i thought.â
âoh, did you?â you hummed.
âmhm. i also heard something about gosses? doesnât that meanââ
you pushed the menu towards him. âthe wrap is really good.â
that smug grin on his face kept growing wider and wider. âi bet.â
after lunch, you took him to the park.
âdo you have anywhere youâd like to go? i keep taking you to my favorite spots, i completely forgot if you wanted to be all touristy.â
he put a hand over his eyes to cover the sun beaming into his eyes. you couldnât help but stare at the green specs that were briefly illuminated by the sunshine.
âthese places are nice.â he shook his head. âi can go to the eiffel tower whenever. walking around in a park with the prettiest girl in paris? not something i have to chance to do very often.â
you blushed. âwhy not?â
it was his turn to blush.
âwhoâs to say we donât go walking in the park more often?â
âwould you?â
âi would.â you shrugged, trying to act casual when your heartbeat would beg to differ.
his fingers brushed yours and index finger clung onto his. soft enough that if he swayed his arm your fingers would fall apart.
he made sure to stay extra still.
in all honestly, you had no idea what came over you. you were never this forward. at the same time, you were never this sure about what you wanted.
you wanted joe, one way or another; as a friend, or more. he was something you needed to keep. something you couldnât bring yourself to let go of. it didnât make much sense considering you barely knew enough about him to latch onto in the first place, but not everything makes sense all the time.
especially feelings in paris.
before you knew it, the sun was starting to set.
you found out that the hotel he was staying at wasnât too far from your apartment, so naturally, he insisted on dropping you off.
he walked you back home, fingers grazing every now and then.
âthis is it.â you sighed, standing outside your apartment building.
all the confidence and smugness joe carried proudly today seemed to have dissipated âthanks. for today.â
âanytime.â you smiled. âi had fun today.â
âme too.â joe nodded, taking a step towards you. âwe should do this again sometime. maybe i show you around new york?â
you felt his breath on your neck and your breath hitched. âiâd like that.â you breathed.
you inched closer and he met you halfway. his hand rested on your neck, the pad of his thumb grazed your cheekbone.
your hand found his shirt, fingers curling and pulling him closer.
you only broke away upon hearing a squeal far too familiar. you looked up to find the source and found lily practically dangling off of the balcony.
you groaned, bringing your head to joeâs chest. âiâm gonna kill her.â
joe laughed, bringing his hand up to the back of your head. âhow much do you wanna bet sheâs telling wes already.â
you looked up. âyou noticed that too? theyâve gotten so close.â
âmaybe they need to get off our backs and get on their backs.â joe shrugged.
you blinked. âwas that a modern family reference?â
âyouâve watched modern family?â he asked, stunned.
âi live and breathe modern family, are you kidding?!â
âyou just keep getting better and better.â he shook his head, eyes wide, as if he was staring at a chest filled with gold.
âyouâre not so bad.â you shrugged, a smile already making its way onto your face because of his words.
joeâs phone was vibrating in his pocket. ding after ding followed by a ring.
he pulled it out, confused, and sighed. he tilted his phone screen and showed you that wes was already calling him.
âwe need to sort them out.â you shook your head disbelievingly.
ânot after weâre sorted.â he scoffed.
âbold of you to assume thereâs anything to be sorted.â you teased. you broke out in laughter upon seeing his face. his mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, face as red as a tomato. âiâm joking!â
âoh my god.â he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. âyouâre something else, yâknow that?â
Taking requests?!?! Girl Iâve got a big one. Do you know Amelia from chicken date? The girl who interviews celebs and pretends to date them as she interviews them? So idk if you seen the interview she has with Andrew Garfield but their chemistry is CRAZY! So how about like journalists reader who is doing press tour for like stranger things or maybe even Djoâs music or whatever and she hits him with like a kinda flirty comment as a joke and he just responds with the same energy and like both of them going at each Roger between flirting and teasing, which kinda ends up Joe straight asking her out after the interview or smt like that! Omg I beg you please!!!!
Chicken shop date
Pairing: Joe Keery x interviewer fem!reader
⥠Main Index | ⥠Archive for Earth-0424
Classification: Flirty fluff
Word count: 1,4k
Divider by me ;)
The small shop smelled like fried chicken, warm grease and over-salted fries that went cold almost immediately after they were placed between you, completely forgotten the second your conversation started rolling and neither of you made any real effort to touch the food, too busy leaning forward across the tiny table and trying not to laugh before the other person even finished their sentence. The plastic chairs scraped softly against the floor every time one of you shifted closer without really noticing, knees almost brushing beneath the table.
âThis is by far the hardest date Iâve managed to get, and itâs all your fault,â you chuckled, tipping your soda can toward your lips as your eyes stayed on him rather than the drink.
âWhat?â he laughed, shoulders lifting in disbelief as he leaned back for a second, glancing at the crew before looking right back at you. âEvery time I see you on carpets, Iâm like, âhey, when are we doing this thing?â and then it never happens because youâre justâŠtoo busy dating Oscar nominees,â he said, rolling his eyes playfully.
âI canât believe youâre blaming me,â you shot back immediately, your smile wide and teasing. âSince then youâve wrapped up Stranger Things, your songs became massively known all overâŠdo you know how hard it was to get my hands on you?â you asked, tilting your head slightly as if challenging him to argue.
âI gave you my number,â he said, gesturing vaguely toward his team behind the cameras like they could back him up.
âWhat?â you blinked, turning to look at them before snapping your gaze back to him. âI donât have your number. You have not given me your number,â you said through a laugh that made you finally reach for a fry.
âWell, I asked someone to do it because we were both at work and I wanted to keep it professional,â he said, pointing between the two of you with exaggerated seriousness.
âOh, because Iâm known for being professional,â you nodded, clearly not believing yourself for a second as you finally stole a bite of chicken.
âYouâre very professional,â he assured quickly. âIf you werenât, Iâm sure you couldnât have gotten Oscar nominee Andrew Garfield on a date.â
Your lips parted in mock offense. âAre you jealous? Because you sound jealous.â
âOf course Iâm jealous,â he laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. âUntil two minutes ago I thought youâd had my number for a year and just didnât want to text me.â
âIs that the kind of boyfriend you are? The jealous kind?â you asked, raising a brow.
âYouâll just have to find out after the date,â he shrugged casually, taking a bite of chicken that he barely seemed to taste.
You mirrored his shrug as you took another sip of your soda. âAre you gonna send someone to ask me out this time too?â you teased, your voice softer now, the joke landing somewhere between playful and curious.
He shook his head, washing down the bite with a drink. âNo, Iâll do it personally and stand in front of you until you send me a text.â
âIâm kind of a bad texter. I feel like you should know that,â you admitted.
âItâs fine, Iâll call,â he said immediately.
âMmmm,â you hummed, shaking your head slowly.
âWhat does that mean?â he asked, smiling like he already knew he wasnât going to like the answer.
âI fear Iâm even worse at calling,â you told him.
âWhat about emailing?â he asked suddenly, completely serious and you burst into laughter loud enough that the audio guy had to remove his headset for a second. âYou said you were work driven, emails are fine, right?â
âSure, sure,â you chuckled. âWhat would you email me about first?â
âAbout our first date,â he blew a raspberry. âObviously.â
âThis is our first date.â
âWellâŠâ he started, glancing toward the cameras with a knowing smile. âThe real one,â
âThis is as real as it gets,â you insisted, then pointed at the cameras. âDo you do that at work? Look straight into the cameras?â you teased, laughing when he cracked up. âNo wonder youâre no Oscar nominee yet, you just messed up the illusion by looking at the millions of people whoâll watch this.â
He kept laughing, rubbing a hand over his face. âSee, thatâs why we need a second part to this date without the audience.â
âFine, fineâŠwhat would be the plan then?â you asked, focusing on eating after ignoring the for half the interview.
âDancing,â he said like heâd already thought about it for weeks.
You raised a brow. âDancing? Why dancing? Thatâs brave.â
âBecause I saw you dancing once, you looked like you enjoyed it,â he added, watching your reaction closely.
âWhat?â you said, genuinely surprised. âWhen did you see me dance? I donât dance at red carpets.â
âAt afterparties you do,â he noted simply.
You furrowed your brow, leaning forward now, curiosity completely taking over. âWhich one?â
âIt was like a Netflix event thing a few months ago,â he explained, watching your face carefully as it shifted from polite interest to genuine confusion, your brows knitting together while you searched your memory for any moment that might match what he was describing.
âOh!â you said suddenly, eyes widening as something clicked into place. âWere you there?â
âItâs kind of my place of work, yeah,â he chuckled, leaning back slightly in his chair, the corner of his mouth lifting as if he had been waiting for you to realize.
âWhy didnât you come up to me then? I wasnât working,â you reasoned, gesturing lightly with a fry like it strengthened your argument.
He exclaimed immediately, sitting forward again. âBecause I didnât know that! But yeah, dancing.â
âI donât really dance, but Iâll allow it,â you shrugged, pretending to consider it carefully before taking a sip of soda. âI like a man who takes initiative.â
âIf we were to start a relationship, Iâm not saying you would want to or that I would necessarily want toââ
âYou clearly do, but go on,â you cut in with a grin that made him laugh harder than he meant to.
âThis is killing me,â he said through a breathy laugh, running a hand over his face like he needed a second to recover, never actually finishing the sentence he had started.
âOh, is it going that bad? Your publicist looks like she wants you to leave,â you teased, pointing somewhere behind the camera where someone was definitely trying not to react.
âNo, itâs going too great,â he said quickly, leaning closer without realizing it. âItâs killing me that itâs taken this long, and itâs really fucked up that there are cameras when it finally does happen,â he chuckled, glancing around the room before looking right back at you. âIf all of this wasnât here, would we actually go on a date?â
âYou mean if this wasnât my job?â you laughed, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.
âYeah, take out all the practicalities and the logic. If you had gotten my number a year agoâŠI actually believe that maybeâŠor I might be reading it wrong,â he said, lifting his arms in surrender like he was bracing for rejection.
âI think this is the first time Iâve had someone acknowledge the cameras, and itâs even more surprising coming from an actor since your job is to ignore them,â you noted, watching him with a curiosity that felt softer now.
âWell, Iâm a private person. I try to be,â he explained, his voice quieter for a moment.
âYou said a year ago?â you asked, leaning in slightly.
Joe nodded. âWere you dating anyone? Wait, is that weird to ask?â he chuckled, clearly second-guessing himself mid-question.
âWell, you just did and I wasnât, so yeah,â you laughed but then something shifted, the energy between you turning unexpectedly intimate, your voice lowering almost without permission. âI thinkâŠyeah.â
He pointed at you triumphantly. âI did it.â
âDid what?â you asked, smiling despite yourself.
âThe sorcery you do with your charm, you make people all shy around you all the time,â he said with a grin that made it sound like a compliment disguised as a complaint. âAnd I just did it to you.â
âI do not,â you denied immediately, shaking your head. You felt like the complete opposite, awkward, too loud, always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.
âYou absolutely do. I thought it was bad on carpets, but itâs even worse here somehow,â he said, smiling in a way that made it clear he was enjoying this far more than he let on.
You rolled your eyes playfully. âWell, you got me.â
âIâve been trying to,â he hummed.
a/n: If you enjoyed this, consider saving the archive. More stories are coming, and requests are always welcome! Likes, reblogs and comments help others find my work and mean more to me than you know. Thank you so much for reading đ
Summary: You were humming Madonna "Angel" and this makes Steve more in love than he already is because you hum so pretty.
Steve was sprawled across your bed, mindedly flipping through a magazine that you had while you got ready for the day. The room was quiet except for the soft tune you were humming under your breath.
At first, he didn't pay much attention. Then he realized what song it was. "Angel?" Steve looked up, a smile tugging at his lips. You shrugged. "Maybe."
The familiar Madonna melody filled the room as you continued humming, completely unaware of the way Steve was staring. "Sweetheart."
"Hm?" "You know you're adorable, right?" You laughed. "Says the guy staring at me like I've hung the moon."
"Can't help it, angel." He rested his chin in his hand. "You do this thing where you get lost in a song, and your whole face lights up." Your cheeks warmed. "You're ridiculous."
"you're so pretty."
"Steve"
"No, seriously, honey." His voice softened. "Every time I think I couldn't possibly love you more, you do something like this." You rolled your eyes affectionately. "All because I was humming?"
Steve reached for your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Yeah, baby." He grinned. "All because you were humming."
Somehow the look in his eyes made you believe him.
oh oh oh!!!! I just saw that youâre open to writing for keys? he has my whole heart đ„ș would you please consider writing something where he ignores you for a few weeks since heâs working very closely on designing his game and maybe heâs blowing you off for millie and itâs really starting to hurt your relationship? I LOVE and love for your angst. Itâs always so so good!
STUPID
keys mckey x reader
val speaks - love this love you! love keys and i do believe this is my first time writing for him so if it's bad remember to spam hate in my inbox
word count: 4.4k
keys had always been the type to talk when his brain was running at full speed, even if the rest of the world was winding down. youâd learned that pretty early into dating him. sometimes it was about code, sometimes about bugs in the game, sometimes about ideas that woke him up at three in the morning and refused to let him sleep again.
tonight was one of those nights.
the room was dim except for the soft yellow light from the lamp on the nightstand. you were already curled up under the blankets, half facing him while he laid on his back beside you, staring up at the ceiling like it was a whiteboard.
âbecause if the ai can learn patterns from the players,â he was saying, hands moving a little as he talked, âthen technically the npcs wouldnât just repeat dialogue trees. theyâd adapt. like actually adapt. which means the world would feel way more-â
he stopped for half a second, searching for the word.
âaliveâ he finished quietly.
you hummed softly in agreement, eyes half closed. honestly, you didnât understand all of it. a lot of the technical stuff flew right over your head.
but you liked listening to him.
the way he got excited about it. the way his voice sped up when he was onto something. the little pauses where heâd realise he was rambling and glance over at you to make sure you were still awake.
you always were. at least long enough.
âand if that works,â he continued, softer now, âthen it might actually fix the interaction loop thatâs been breaking the side quests, which would mean-â
he turned his head toward you mid-sentence.
you were still looking at him, but barely. sleep was already pulling at you.
his voice softened immediately.
âam i keeping you up?â
âno,â you murmured, voice slow with sleep. âi like listening.â
he smiled at that, the kind that was small but real.
lately, nights like this were the only time you really had him. between the long hours at work and the way heâd stay late trying to fix things or test things or 'just run one more build', he wasnât home nearly as much as he used to be.
and when he was, he was still half in the game.
he wasnât distant when he was with you. not at all. he was still the same soft, sweet guy who kissed your forehead without thinking and held your hand while you walked places.
he just⊠wasnât around enough lately.
you shifted a little closer under the blankets.
âkeys?â
âyeah?â
you hesitated for a second. you didnât want to make it a whole thing. he already looked tired most days.
so you just asked lightly, like it wasnât a big deal.
âif i make dinner tomorrow⊠like a nice one⊠will you come home early?â
he blinked, surprised by the question.
âlike⊠early early?â he asked.
âmhm.â your voice was already fading toward sleep. âjust us.â
for about half a second he clearly thought about something work-related. you could practically see the gears turning.
then he looked at you again.
âyeahâ he said. âyeah, of course.â
you relaxed a little at that.
he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. then another.
âwhat are you making?â he asked quietly.
âhavenât decided yet.â
âiâm already excitedâ he said, smiling against your skin.
you huffed a sleepy little laugh.
a minute passed. maybe two. his arm slid around you automatically, pulling you a little closer as you drifted off.
âheyâ he murmured softly.
âiâll come home earlyâ he repeated, almost like a promise.
then he pressed one more small kiss to your cheek, and eventually, both of you fell asleep.
-
you spent most of the day getting everything ready.
you cleaned the apartment first. not just a quick tidy, you actually cleaned it. wiped the counters, folded the blankets on the couch, opened the windows for a while so the place smelled like fresh air instead of takeout and coffee like it usually did after one of keysâ long work weeks.
then you went to the store.
you bought the stuff to make one of his favorite meals, something heâd once offhandedly said reminded him of when he was younger. you werenât even sure if he remembered telling you that. but you did.
by the time the afternoon rolled around the place looked nice. softer somehow. you lit one of the candles you liked and set the table instead of just eating on the couch like usual.
it felt stupidly hopeful.
5:00 pm.
you checked the time on your phone again even though youâd already looked at it twice in the last minute.
keys had said heâd come home early and apparently, early early to keys meant five. you smiled to yourself a little, adjusting one of the plates on the table.
the food was done, sitting warm on the stove. you waited.
5:30.
that was fine. traffic existed. builds failed. something probably came up at work. you told yourself not to be weird about it.
6:00.
you were sitting on the couch now, legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone but not really reading anything.
the food had probably cooled by now.
6:30.
the quiet in the apartment started to feel heavier.
you checked your phone again. no texts. no missed calls. nothing.
a small thought crept in that you immediately tried to push away.
maybe he forgot.
you sat there for a few more minutes, staring at the blank tv screen across from you.
the thought came back.
maybe he forgot about this. about you.
it stung in this weird, dull way that sat right in the middle of your chest. not sharp enough to make you cry right away. just enough to make your throat feel tight.
because last night heâd sounded so sure.
yeah, of course.
iâm already excited.
like it was a promise.
and now it was almost seven.
you sighed quietly and pushed yourself up from the couch.
âokayâ you muttered to the empty apartment.
you wrapped the food up slowly, putting everything into containers and sliding them into the fridge. the kitchen that had felt warm earlier just felt quiet now.
when you were done, you changed into your pajamas.
you grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and curled up again, grabbing the remote. fantastic mr fox popped up on the screen a second later. your comfort movie.
you told yourself you were fine. that it was just dinner. that he was busy and that was normal and that you werenât going to be dramatic about it. still, the weird little ache in your chest wouldnât go away.
by the time the door finally unlocked it was a little after nine. you heard keys come in, keys jingling, the door shutting behind him.
âhey!â he called automatically.
his voice sounded normal. casual. like any other night.
you didnât answer right away.
he dropped his bag somewhere near the door and started talking as he walked further inside.
âtoday was insane, you would not believe the bug we finally figured outâ he laughed a little to himself. âmillie and i were staring at this one line of code for like an hour and then-â
he stepped into the living room and finally saw you on the couch. he smiled when he saw you, completely relaxed.
âwe ended up staying late again because thatâs when we usually get the most work done, and millie had this idea about-â
something in his sentence snagged in your brain.
you glanced over at him.
âoh,â you said quietly. âyou were with millie?â
he didnât even notice the tone.
âyeah,â he said easily, shrugging his jacket off. âwe usually stay late together. itâs just easier to get stuff done after most people leave.â
âohâ you said again.
âyeah and then we finally got this nteraction to stop looping which means-â
he kept talking as he moved further into the living room. but then he stopped. because now he could actually see your face.
his smile faded a little.
ââŠwhat?â he asked gently. âwhatâs wrong?â
you shrugged, eyes back on the movie.
ânothing.â
he frowned slightly.
âyou look upset.â
âiâm not.â
he stood there for a second, confused.
ââŠhow was your day?â he asked.
âfine.â
âdid you do anything?â
ânot really.â
keys shifted a little where he stood, clearly trying to figure out what heâd missed.
ââŠdid you eat?â he asked.
you didnât answer right away.
he was about to ask what you had for dinner and then it clicked. his whole face changed.
the pieces hit him all at once.
the faint smell of food still lingering in the apartment. the way you were barely looking at him.
â...shitâ he breathed.
you finally looked at him again.
his expression had completely dropped.
âbaby-â
âitâs whateverâ you cut in quietly.
you looked back at the screen.
âit was just dinner.â
he looked like heâd been punched in the gut.
âi-â
âiâm sure millie fed you something real sweet instead.â
that made him go still.
ââŠwhat?â he said, genuinely thrown.
you laughed softly but there was nothing happy in it.
âwell every single night youâre picking her over me so what is it?â
keys blinked at you.
âis it really just about the game?â you continued. âor is it because she gets all of your stupid tech shit and i donât?â
his face fell even more.
âam i too stupid for you or something?â
he looked genuinely shocked now.
âwhat? no-â
âbecause it kinda feels like it.â
âhey-â
âevery night you stay late with her,â you said, voice tight now. âevery night.â
âplease donât say that,â he said quickly. âyou know i wouldnât-â
âi clearly donât, keys.â
that shut him up.
he just stared at you.
âwhat am i supposed to think?â you asked. âi spent all day making the place nice and buying ingredients and cooking for you and putting so much thought into you-â
your voice cracked a little.
â-when iâm not even a passing thought in your head.â
he looked crushed.
âhow much of an idiot are you trying to make me feel?â
silence filled the room.
you pushed yourself up off the couch before he could say anything else.
âwait-â
but you were already walking past him. straight to the bathroom. you shut the door behind you and locked it before he could follow. and once you were alone, the tears youâd been holding back all night finally started to fall.
-
you stayed in the bathroom longer than you meant to.
at first you were just crying. the kind that sneaks up on you and then suddenly wonât stop once it starts. you leaned against the counter, head down, trying to keep quiet even though there was no point.
the apartment was silent outside the door.
eventually the tears slowed. you splashed some water on your face, staring at yourself in the mirror for a second like you didnât totally recognise the person looking back.
you stayed there a little longer, just breathing. trying to settle the tight feeling in your chest.
out in the kitchen, keys stood in front of the fridge.
he hadnât really meant to open it. not at first. heâd sat on the couch for a while with his head in his hands, replaying everything you said over and over again until the words made his stomach twist.
every night youâre picking her over me. am i too stupid for you?
he pushed himself up eventually and wandered into the kitchen without thinking.
maybe he just wanted to see. maybe he wanted to make himself feel worse. he wasnât totally sure.
he opened the fridge.
the containers were stacked neatly on the shelf.
he pulled one out.
when he opened it and saw what youâd made, his chest tightened so hard it almost hurt. it was the meal he used to love when he was a kid. the one heâd mentioned once, months ago, in passing. he hadnât even realised you were paying that much attention.
his throat closed up.
ââŠoh my godâ he whispered.
his eyes burned suddenly. before he could stop it, a few quiet tears slipped down his face. he rubbed at them quickly with the heel of his hand, but it didnât really help.
âshitâ he breathed.
he stood there for another moment, staring at the food like it might say something back to him. then he carefully closed the container and put it back in the fridge.
he slowly walked back into the living room, sitting down on the couch again, elbows on his knees, staring at the screen without actually seeing it.
a while later, the bathroom door opened.
you stepped out quietly.
you glanced toward the living room for half a second and saw him sitting there, staring at the now dark tv screen.
your chest tightened again.
you looked away quickly and walked straight to the bedroom.
you didnât say anything. you just got into bed and pulled the blanket over your head, curling toward your side of the mattress.
ten minutes passed. maybe more. then you heard soft footsteps in the hallway. your breathing almost stopped.
the door creaked open slowly. keys walked in like he wasnât sure he was allowed to be there. the mattress dipped slightly when he sat down, but not beside you, he sat at the bottom of the bed instead.
for a few seconds he didnât say anything.
then he spoke.
ââŠi love you.â
his voice was quiet.
rough.
like heâd been crying.
âso much.â
you stayed still under the blanket.
âand i never⊠ever wanted to make you feel like an idiotâ he said.
he swallowed.
âthat- that might actually be the worst thing anyoneâs ever accused me of.â
his hands twisted together a little in his lap.
âyouâre one of the smartest people i know,â he said. âseriously.â
his voice wavered slightly.
âyeah, you donât know a lot about gaming or coding or whatever but⊠thatâs not- thatâs not a bad thing.â
he sniffed quietly.
âi like telling you about it. i like explaining it to you.â
a small, shaky laugh left him.
âit makes me feel⊠important, i guess. like i actually know something cool for once.â
you could hear him shifting slightly on the bed.
âand i would never-â he stopped, breathing out slowly. âi would never even dream of looking at another girl the way i look at you.â
his voice dropped softer.
ânever mind doing something behind your back.â
another pause.
âiâm really sorry i made you feel like i was.â
he kept talking after that. apologising again and again, words tumbling out like heâd been holding them in.
about how he didnât realise how much time heâd been spending at work. about how he hadnât noticed how far he was pushing things. about how scared heâd been sitting on the couch thinking about how close heâd gotten to losing you.
âyouâre⊠everything to me,â he said quietly. âi didnât realise how much of a dick i was being until tonight.â
his voice cracked a little.
âif you want me to find somewhere else to stay tonight, i will. i get it. i just⊠i needed you to know that.â
the room went quiet. you hadnât moved the whole time. after a long moment, you slowly lowered the blanket just enough to look toward him.
your voice came out small.
ââŠyou donât have to leave.â
he didnât say anything.
but you heard him exhale softly, like some tension left his body.
you assumed he nodded.
a moment later, the mattress shifted again as he slowly got into bed beside you. he stayed on his side. leaving space between you.
neither of you slept.
the silence stretched on while both of you stared into the dark, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.
after a while you spoke quietly.
âmaybe i overreacted.â
keys sat up so fast the mattress bounced.
ânoâ he said immediately.
âno no no, baby please- donât say that.â
his voice was almost frantic.
âthis is all on me. i wasnât treating you like i promised i would.â
he ran a hand through his hair.
âi promised myself iâd be good to you. really good to you.â
his voice softened again.
âand i wasnât.â
you nodded a little in the dark.
he let out a long breath before slowly laying back down.
another quiet stretch passed.
then he spoke again, hesitant.
ââŠcan i hold you?â
he paused.
âiâm not expecting everything to just be okay,â he added quickly. âi know itâs not.â
his voice softened even more.
âbut can i⊠please hold you?â
you nodded again before realising he couldnât see it.
ââŠyesâ you said quietly.
a moment later you felt him move closer behind you.
his arm wrapped carefully around your waist, like he was afraid you might pull away. you didnât. you both stayed like that for a long time.
eventually exhaustion won out and sometime in the middle of the night, the two of you drifted into a restless sleep.
-
when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the empty space beside you.
the bed was cold where keys had been.
you blinked slowly, still half asleep, then reached for your phone on the nightstand.
11:03 am.
you frowned a little.
ââŠoh.â
he must already be at work.
that thought made your chest sink slightly. you knew it made sense. he had a job, obviously. you werenât expecting him to just skip it forever because of one fight. still⊠you kind of wished heâd been there when you woke up.
you sighed softly and pushed the blanket back, sliding out of bed.
the apartment was quiet when you stepped into the hallway.
then you heard keysâ voice from the living room.
ââŠyeah i know, i know-â
you paused for a second.
he was on the phone.
your eyebrows lifted slightly.
âi know but please-â he continued, pacing slightly by the sound of it.
there was a pause while the other person talked.
ââŠyeah. yeah i know.â
his voice softened a little.
your chest loosened a tiny bit.
you didnât stick around to hear the rest. it felt wrong to stand there and listen, so you continued into the kitchen instead.
you were halfway through stretching when you noticed the mug on the counter.
your favorite one. already filled with coffee.
you blinked at it for a second then you picked it up.
it was still warm.
a small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth before you could stop it.
if this all works out, you thought, i wouldnât mind seeing him grovel a little.
the idea made you smile just a little more.
right as keys walked into the kitchen.
he stopped when he saw you.
âgood morningâ he said quickly.
his hair was messy, like heâd been running his hands through it all morning.
then he noticed the mug in your hands.
âoh- sorry,â he added. âi was gonna bring that to you.â
âitâs okayâ you said quietly.
you took a sip.
the coffee was exactly how you liked it. you glanced at him over the rim of the mug.
ââŠwhy arenât you at work?â
he didnât even hesitate.
âthatâs not important to me right now.â
you studied his face for a second.
he looked serious. tired, but serious.
that answer seemed to satisfy you, because you nodded once and walked past him toward the bedroom.
he turned immediately and followed.
you sat down on the edge of the bed. he sat a little further down, leaving space between you like he had the night before.
you took another sip of coffee.
you were about to say something when he spoke first.
âcan i just say something?â
you nodded.
he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
ââŠi just wanted to thank youâ he said.
you blinked.
âfor what?â
âfor making my life the best itâs ever been.â
you stared at him.
he kept going, clearly nervous.
âand i just wanted you to know that iâll always be there for you if you ever need me in the future.â
you tilted your head slightly.
ââŠhuh?â
he paused. you both looked confused now.
âwhy are you saying that?â you asked.
he hesitated.
ââŠwell i just thought-â
and then it clicked for you.
your eyebrows shot up.
ââŠkeys,â you said slowly. âdid you think i was just gonna break up with you?â
his expression immediately gave him away.
you let out a small laugh before you could stop yourself.
âiâm not breaking up with you.â
for a second he just stared at you. then the relief hit him all at once. his shoulders dropped and a huge smile broke across his face before he could stop it.
âyouâre not?â
âno.â
he let out a breath that sounded like heâd been holding it since last night.
âoh my god.â
you shook your head slightly, amused.
âyouâre such a nerd.â
âi was preparingâ he muttered.
you snorted quietly.
after that, the conversation came easier. keys apologised again. and again. and again. sometimes in full sentences, sometimes just quietly under his breath like he couldnât stop himself.
you talked about it for a while. about how things had been feeling lately. about how much time heâd been spending at work.
keys listened the whole time. really listened.
at one point he rubbed his face and groaned quietly.
âi canât believe i was doing that.â
âdoing what?â you asked.
âpushing you away like that.â
he looked over at you.
ââŠyouâre my favorite person.â
your lips twitched slightly.
eventually you both agreed on something simple. youâd just see how today went. no big decisions. no pressure. just spend the day together.
which is exactly what you did.
the two of you stayed in all day, lounging around the apartment. watching random movies, talking, sitting close on the couch like you hadnât done in weeks.
at some point keys remembered the food from last night.
âwait,â he said suddenly. âcan we eat that?â
you laughed.
âyeah.â
so you reheated yesterdayâs dinner.
keys looked almost painfully guilty the entire time but when he took the first bite he immediately lit up.
âoh my godâ he said.
you looked at him suspiciously.
âwhat?â
âthis is so good.â
he pointed his fork at you.
âyou killed this.â
you smiled a little despite yourself.
he kept eating, shaking his head.
âi canât believe you made this for me.â
his voice softened.
ââŠthank you.â
you looked down at your plate, smiling quietly.
-
the rest of the day went really nicely if you were being honest.
it wasnât awkward like you thought it might be. there werenât long silences or weird tension sitting between you on the couch. it actually felt normal again. maybe even better than normal.
keys stuck close to you the whole day without making it obvious he was doing it. like when you both sat on the couch, heâd lean into your side a little. when you got up to grab something from the kitchen, heâd follow a minute later like he just happened to also want water.
at one point you were both standing near the counter and keys said something stupid, you laughed, and before he even seemed to think about it, he leaned in and kissed you.
just quick, then he pulled back immediately. his eyes searched your face like he was checking if heâd just made a huge mistake.
you looked at him for a second. not mad. not skeptical. just normal.
when he realised that, the relief on his face was immediate.
âokayâ he muttered softly.
then he leaned in again and kissed you properly this time.
by the end of the night you were both curled up on the couch again watching something neither of you were really paying attention to.
when you eventually went to bed, it felt good.
like things had settled again.
you fell asleep easily.
the next morning, when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was that keys was still there.
your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light in the room.
he was still asleep beside you.
for a second you assumed it must be early. like really early. maybe heâd just woken up too and was resting a little longer before leaving.
you grabbed your phone off the nightstand.
10:48 am.
you blinked.
ââŠhuh.â
the small movement mustâve woken him up, because he shifted slightly beside you.
keys cracked his eyes open and looked at you.
then he smiled. a sleepy, soft kind of smile.
you looked back at him.
ââŠi think youâre late for work.â
he just shook his head a little and closed his eyes again.
you frowned slightly when he didnât explain.
after a second he opened one eye again to your puzzled expression.
he laughed quietly then he reached out, grabbed your wrist gently, and pulled you back down into the bed with him.
âcome hereâ he mumbled.
you let out a small surprised noise but didnât resist.
he wrapped an arm around you automatically, pulling you against his chest.
âyesterday,â he mumbled into the pillow, voice still thick with sleep, âi called in and said i was gonna take some time off.â
you blinked up at him.
ââŠwhat?â
âworking from home,â he added. âfor a while.â
he groaned slightly.
âthere was a very long, very boring conversation about it.â
you snorted quietly.
âand i mightâve begged a little.â
you couldnât help the smile that spread across your face.
so that was who he was talking to on the phone yesterday.
you looked up at him.
ââŠthank you.â
he shook his head immediately.
before you could say anything else he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
âyou donât need to thank me,â he murmured.
his voice was gentle.
âit shouldnât have gotten to the point where i had to do that.â
your chest warmed a little at that.
he tightened his arm around you slightly.
âweâre staying right here todayâ he mumbled.
âdoing absolutely nothing.â
you smiled into his shirt.
âsounds good.â
a few minutes later the room went quiet again.
and eventually, the two of you drifted back to sleep, tangled together in the blankets.
So my sombr request was basically just based off the line "in a room full of people I look for you" and it was that Joe and reader are exes, but always seem to subconsciously find each other at events, award shows that that kind of thing, and maybe the reader wins an award and she sees him in the crowd and he looks so proud of her because he still loves her.
No worries if you don't like it, but I hope you get it this time! đ
look for you
joe keery x reader
desc - you always have and you always will find joe amongst the crowd. even after things ended, especially after things ended, because love doesn't just disappear. it's always there really
val speaks - hey babe! so sorry i didnât get it last time, thankyou for being patient n requesting again !! hope u love xo
word count: 2.5k
when you and joe ended, it was quiet.
it wasn't with a slammed door or a string of words thrown sharp enough to leave scars, it was the kind of breakup that hurt more because both of you were being kind about it. because you loved each other too much to pretend there was nothing wrong and too honestly to keep forcing something that was beginning to bend under the weight of two lives moving in opposite directions.
you had both tried. god, you'd tried.
there'd been late night flights and missed calls and messages answered hours too late because one of you had been on set, the other in a studio, then across the country, then in another time zone entirely. there had been promises made in airport terminals and half finished conversations over crackling phone lines. there had been so many moments where it felt like you were reaching for each other through glass.
every time you finally got a stretch of time together, it felt precious and rare, and every goodbye got harder because neither of you wanted to be the person who said it first.
eventually, that became the problem. not because the love had gone anywhere, because it hadnât, but because love alone couldn't fix the feeling of becoming strangers to each otherâs routines. of loving someone in fragments. of trying to hold on so tightly that the tenderness started to bruise.
so you ended it before it could rot. before impatience turned into bitterness, before longing became resentment, before the version of you that loved him most got buried under everything you couldn't give each other.
and then, because neither of you knew how to be cruel even when you were breaking apart, you let go.
-
after that, there was nothing obvious. no big statement, no messy captions or indirect interviews. just silence. a clean, terrible silence that stretched on and on until it became its own kind of language.
you stopped texting. stopped calling. stopped making excuses to stay in each otherâs orbit. and for a while, it was the only way to survive it.
but love like that doesn't vanish, it lingers.
in the oddest places.
in the back row of a room full of people where you suddenly, instinctively look up because you feel seen. in a flash of brown hair and a familiar profile across a crowded event. in the reflexive little pause your heart makes before you remember to breathe. in the way your gaze keeps finding his before you even realise you're searching.
it became a habit, though neither of you ever admitted it.
at events, you'd scan a room full of sparkling gowns and sharp suits, and there he was. half lit at the edge of a crowd, looking at you with the same stunned softness he'd always worn when he thought no one was watching. and every time, neither of you did anything more than a sad smile and a small wave, like the two of you were standing on opposite sides of a river neither could cross.
sometimes his eyes looked tired. sometimes yours did.
sometimes he looked like he had meant to say something and thought better of it. sometimes you did too.
and always, always, there was that impossible undercurrent underneath the politeness. the knowledge that you knew each other too well to really fool each other. that even now, from across a room, he could probably tell whether you'd slept or not. whether you were pretending to be fine. whether you were holding your shoulders too rigid because you were nervous. whether you were smiling with your mouth and not your eyes.
it was unbearable, in the quietest way possible.
and then came the awards night.
the kind of serious, glittering, high-stakes evening where everyone looked like they'd been polished to perfection and every conversation sounded half like a compliment and half like a competition.
you spent the entire day trying not to think about it, failing miserably, then spent the entire drive to the venue with your hands clenched in your lap and your pulse thudding hard enough to make you feel faint.
you were nominated for best actor, which sounded unreal every time you heard it out loud.
you had worked for this for years. years of auditions, rejections, near-misses, tiny roles no one remembered, projects you poured your whole heart into only to watch them disappear into the noise. it never really felt like this was meant for you, not all the way. and now, somehow, your name was printed on the same card as people you had grown up admiring, people whose faces had been on magazine covers and billboards for as long as you could remember.
you told yourself you were being ridiculous. you told yourself it was an honor just to be nominated. you told yourself you would be fine no matter what happened.
you were lying.
by the time the category came up, your entire body felt like it had turned to static.
your fingers were cold. your throat was dry. every tiny movement around you felt amplified, every sound stretched out and distorted. you could barely hear the presenter introducing the nominees over the pounding in your ears. your name came and went in a blur.
there was a pause. and then your name was called again, this time as the winner.
for a second, you honestly thought your brain had short-circuited.
the applause sounded distant at first, like it was happening underwater. someone beside you said something you couldnât register, the room tilted and steadied and tilted again.
your heart was beating so fast it felt almost painful.
you stood up too quickly, nearly tripping over the edge of your dress or your own feet or the fact that your entire life had just split open and become something else.
the people around you were smiling, clapping, rising to their feet. you could see flashes from cameras, could hear the swell of the room like waves hitting the shore. you walked toward the stage in a daze, one hand pressed briefly to your chest as if you could keep your heart from escaping.
then you looked up.
and there he was.
joe was in the crowd, sitting just far enough back that you hadn't noticed him until now. his smile was wide and genuine and so full of pride it nearly undid you on the spot. not the polite little wave smile. not the sad, restrained one you had gotten so used to. this was bright and open and devastated in the most beautiful way, like he was seeing you become yourself in real time and could barely stand how much it meant to him.
your breath caught so hard you almost missed the last step.
he was just there, and you felt that old familiar ache rise up so suddenly it almost took your knees from under you. because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how many months of silence, seeing him like that still felt like being struck somewhere tender.
you made it to the microphone somehow.
you laughed a little too brightly at first, because you didn't know what else to do with the fact that your hands were shaking. the audience laughed with you, kind and expectant, and you glanced down at the award in your hands like it might vanish if you looked away too long.
the speech came in fragments at first. thank you to the academy, thank you to the cast and crew, thank you to your team, your family, your friends. your voice trembled once and you had to swallow hard. you looked out over the room and tried not to cry because that would have made everything worse and you were already one breath away from completely losing it.
and then your eyes found joe again.
he was still watching you. still smiling, though now there was a shine to his eyes that made something in your chest tighten painfully. he looked so proud it almost hurt to witness it. like your success was somehow his too, like he had been carrying it in his hands from the beginning.
you shouldn't have said it, maybe.
it was too personal. too honest. too much for a room like this, filled with polished strangers and bright lights and a thousand cameras waiting for a moment they could replay forever.
but you didn't know how to leave the truth sitting in your mouth when it had been living in your chest for so long.
so, toward the end of your speech, your voice went softer.
you thanked your parents. thanked your friends. thanked the team that had believed in you long before the world had any reason to. and then, after the smallest pause, you said his name.
just his name at first, spoken gently enough that the room seemed to lean in.
you thanked joe for helping you get here. for believing in you, for seeing something in you early on that you hadn't yet learned to see in yourself, for encouraging you when you were tired, for pushing you when you wanted to quit, for being the person who could look at you and speak your potential into the room like it was already real.
your voice almost broke on the last part.
you said that in a room like this, where everyone had expectations and opinions, it meant everything to have one person who never looked at you like you were any less than enough.
you didn't look at him when you said it. you couldn't. the words were too raw, too vulnerable. you were afraid that if you met his eyes again you'd stop speaking entirely.
the applause that followed was louder than anything else in the room.
by the time you stepped away from the microphone and began the walk back down the stage steps, your whole body felt like it had been set alight and then gently, carefully, put back together.
everyone was standing. everyone was clapping. faces blurred as you passed them. someone touched your arm, someone called your name, someone laughed with joy on your behalf. all of it felt unreal, like you were drifting a few inches above the floor instead of walking.
and the whole time, you could feel him.
you almost made it back to your seat when he was suddenly there, in front of you, moving through the crowd with none of the hesitation he'd shown all night. like he had decided there was no point in pretending patience was still an option, like the second you stepped off that stage, all the distance between you had become unbearable.
you stopped breathing.
joe looked wrecked in the sweetest way. his eyes were glassy, his smile trembled at the edges like it had been fighting tears for the last several minutes and was losing. he looked at you for half a second as if memorising the fact that you were really standing there, award in hand, trembling and glowing and somehow more beautiful than he remembered, though he knew that was not actually possible.
then he stepped forward and pulled you into him.
it was not cautious. it was immediate and desperate and real, his arms wrapped around you like they had never learned how to let go in the first place. you made a small sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and your own arms went around him with zero hesitation, because your body had known where to go long before your mind could catch up.
he held you like he had been waiting years.
and maybe he had.
the room went on around you, applause still rippling, people still moving, but inside that embrace there was only the two of you and the violent, aching recognition of how much love had survived the silence.
joe buried his face near your shoulder and whispered, barely audible, âiâm so proud of you.â
the words went straight through you.
your fingers curled into the fabric at his back. you tried to laugh through it, but the sound came out broken.
he loosened just enough to look at you, his hands still firm at your waist. his mouth opened, then closed, like he was choosing whether or not to say something he had kept inside for a very long time.
then, softly, with a kind of honesty that made the air between you feel electric, he said, âi love you.â
everything in you stilled.
the world around you blurred at the edges. the lights, the applause, the noise, all of it dropped away until there was only his face, open and trembling and heartbreakingly familiar. the fact that after all this time, after all the missing and the silence and the careful smiles across crowded rooms, he was still saying it.
not as a performce, not as a habit.
as truth.
your throat tightened so hard it hurt.
you looked at him, really looked at him, and all the love you had been carrying like a secret suddenly felt too large to contain. all the time you had spent pretending you were fine, all the nights you looked at old photos, all the moments you had felt him in the room before seeing him, all the tiny griefs that had never fully left, gathered itself into a single bright ache.
you let out a breath that shook, then you said it back.
âi love you too.â
his face changed immediately, something soft and stunned and almost disbelieving washing over it, like he had been waiting to hear those words again for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like when they were real.
his grip on you tightened and for a second you thought he might say something else, might explain himself, might turn the moment into words that could make sense of what you were both feeling.
instead, he just held you harder.
you did the same.
there were still people all around you. still cameras. still the entire absurd spectacle of an award show unfolding at full speed. but none of that mattered in that instant. not really. because beneath the noise and the lights and the polished surface of the night, something in you had finally stopped breaking.
you had loved each other then, when it was hard and messy and impossible.
you loved each other now, when it was quiet but no less true.
and maybe that was the part neither of you had ever been able to let go of.
not the relationship itself, but the knowledge that some feelings don't die just because timing is cruel. sometimes they wait. sometimes they survive the distance. sometimes they spend months or years looking for each other in rooms full of people and only need one honest moment to come home.
joe pressed a kiss to your temple, brief and trembling, and you closed your eyes for just a second, letting yourself have it.
just this, just him. just the two of you in a crowd, finally not pretending not to feel the gravity of what had always been there.
and when you opened your eyes again, he was still looking at you the same way he had on that stage, proud and wrecked and full of love, like you were the brightest thing in the room and he had known it all along.
Doctor McKey might scold you for inability to take things easy, but that might just be because you're his favourite patient.
pairing: doctor!walter mckey x figure skater!reader
words: 3.3k
contains: fluff, idiots in love, likely inaccurate medical descriptions, doctor!keys!! i repeat, DOCTOR!KEYS, female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader.
author's note: request by đ« nonnie | another one for the 3k special and i am on my knees thanking you for this request. this was my proper first keys fics and i am so glad that it was for doctor keys! i adored writing this one!
taglist | masterlist | 3k special masterlist | requests page
When Keys looked up at the triage board and saw âFigure skater â Possible stress fracture â Room 12â he knew almost instantly it was you.
âAre you kidding me?â He mutters to himself as the charge nurse Monica hands him your file with a knowing smile. âReally? Her, again? Canât I go to Trauma 3 instead?â
Monica glances up at the board and then looks back at Keys, amused. âYouâd choose a motorcycle accident over a pretty figure skater?â
Keys clicks his against the roof of his mouth because he knew Monica had a point. He had a rough morning in the ER which included a chest puncture from a stab wound, an open fracture and a drowning victim that they hadnât been able to save. A possible stress fracture would be a breath of fresh air in comparison to the morning he had.
But the thought of treating you for yet another figure skating-related wound irked Keys. Especially when he had told you only three weeks ago to take things easy after you had come in with inflammation on your ankle. In fact, he had told you countless times to stop being reckless, to stop trying to perfect your lutz jump or whatever it was called when you needed to rest your swollen ankles, to not push yourself any more than you needed to. But did you ever listen to him? Evidently not.
âFine,â Keys says with a forced smile at Monica. âBut only because Iâm a good doctor. Because I care about all my patients.â
âSome more than others,â Monica mutters quietly. Keys pretends that he hadnât heard her as he walks towards Room 12.
Ever since you had started figure skating professionally almost four years ago, you had visited the ER around twenty five to thirty times, give or take. Between sprains, swollen muscles, gashes, cuts and one or two concussions, you knew the ER department like the back of your hand. You knew the doctors, the nurses, the trainees, the cleaners, the receptionists and of course you knew Doctor Keys.
When you first met him he had still been a student doctor, having just finished medical school. You had sustained a small laceration on your leg and Keys had been the one to stitch you up. You had talked his ear off about how you had gotten into ice skating after watching Ice Princess when you were a kid, how you had bought your first pair of skates at fourteen and had never looked back. Keys didnât quite understand why you would choose such a dangerous hobby and had told you to bear more careful next time. You had come back barely a week later with another, slightly bigger laceration.
For some unknown reason, maybe fate, maybe it was simply Monicaâs strange sense of humour but whenever you came into the ER, he was always your doctor. And so, you had built quite the rapport with Doctor McKey. You teased him, he scolded you for being reckless and the cycle continuedâanother injury, another lecture, another promise youâd be back soon. The whole department was aware of it too. Keys had even once overheard Nurse Martinez and Doctor Bennett discussing a bet on how many injuries you were going to sustain that year and how long it was going to take before Keys finally lost it.
But he hadnât. Not yet.
âThereâs my favourite doctor,â you greet Keys as he walks into your room with a smile that doesnât entirely cover up the pain you were in.
Keys hums in acknowledgement, though his ears turn a little red at your words. That was another thing about youâyou teased him relentlessly. Monica called it flirting, Keys called it annoying.
âYou know, I did tell you this might happen if you didnât rest your ankle,â Keys comments, unable to stop himself from doing so as he approaches your hospital bed to have a closer look at your ankle. He could see that the flesh was swollen, tender.
âI know but I wanted an excuse to see you,â you say with a bright smile before you tilt your head to the side. âDid you get new glasses by the way?â
Keys pauses, hazel eyes flickering over to you as a faint flush begins to creep up his neck. You were wearing a grey zip up hoodie but your skating costume beneath was peaking outâKeys could see the obnoxious glittering orange material that you had worn a couple times before.
âI did,â he answers, his ears remaining that signature red as pushes up his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
âTheyâre cute,â you tell him. âSuit you.â
Keys decides to ignore you. Though of course you notice the way the flush had spread up to his cheeks
After a gentle assessment, Keys confirms that you had a stress fracture. If he was honest, he was pissed off about it. You hadnât listened three weeks ago when you had come into the ER with inflammation. You had continued to be your usual, reckless self and now you were at risk of chronic pain or permanent damage to your ankle if you didnât rest for at least eight weeks.
âEight weeks?â You echo, your playful facade faltering for the first time as Keys notices the genuine panic in your eyes. âBut this is my job! I have a competition soon, I canât take eight weeks outââ
ââeither you take eight weeks out or you risk never being able to skate again,â Keys tells you bluntly. âYour choice.â
For perhaps the first time in four years, you look genuinely worried. Terrified even and Keys starts to feel bad for being so direct with you as he watches the way your fingers curl into the sheets of the hospital bed and how you look away from him with a tight jaw.
Keys hated to admit that he cared about you way more than he wanted to. That he felt a tightening in his chest whenever he saw the words âfigure skaterâ on the triage board. That the reason he got so short with you sometimes was because he wanted you to listen to him, wanted you to take what he said seriously so he didnât have to worry about you anymore.
And there was a part of him that felt as though he failed you every time you showed up to the ER, every time you had to wait in the waiting room for hours on end. That was the part of himself he didnât want to think too much about, didnât want to think about why he cared so much about a patient. Why he cared that your eyes were now slightly glassy as your gaze fixed determinedly on the call bell.
âLookâI know it sucks and I know you love your job but if you put any more stress on this ankle by doing anymore Axels or Solcowsââ
ââitâs Salchowââ
ââwhatever itâs called. You do more of that? Youâre going to cause some irreversible damage and I wouldnât want that for you.â
You swallow, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before you turn to look back at Keys.
âSo eight weeks?â You repeat in a quiet voice.
âEight weeks,â Keys confirms with a small nod and sympathetic smile. âRest as much as you can and make sure to keep it elevated. Ice it when possible. If you need to take anti-inflammatory medication I can prescribe you some to save you a trip to the pharmacy and an ACE wrap would be preferable.â
âThatâs a long list, Doc,â you say with a small smile. âBut Iâll try to remember. I promise.â
Keys nod, trying not to think about the way that small smile had made his entire day.
âIâll get some medication for you and a nurse will be over soon to wrap your ankle,â he tells you. âDonât go anywhere.â
You snort with laughter and itâs a struggle for Keys to not smile at that sound.
âCanât anyway,â you say. âDoctorâs orders.â
You stay in the ER for the next three hours, waiting for a nurse to become available to wrap your ankle, waiting for your prescription to be ready and finally waiting to be discharged. In that time, Doctor Keys had checked up on you six times. Not that you were counting.
âDonât you have other patients you should be checking up on?â You ask him with a smile the seventh time he walks into your room to check your vitals for no apparent reason. âI donât want there to be a HIPAA violation because youâre worried Iâm going to burst into flames or something.â
Keys goes redânow that you had called him out for it, he was beginning to realise just how much he had been checking up on you.
âAs far as Iâm aware, bursting into flames isnât a symptom of stress fracture,â he murmurs. âBut what do I know? I only went to medical school for like five or six years.â
It took a moment for you to realise that for once, Keys was being indulging in your playful teasing and it was so endearing to you that you couldnât help but smile. You open your mouth to continue the tennis match of playfulness when a nurse walks in.
âOh sorry, Doctor McKey,â the nurse says with a nod. âI have her discharge papers here.â
âOh,â Keys says, smiling at the nurse who hands him the papers. âCool. Thank you, Nurse Richards.â
âIâm free to go?â You ask as the door closes shut behind the nurse.Â
âYouâre free to go,â Keys confirms with a nod, ignoring the pit in his stomach at the thought of you leaving.
You manage to manoeuvre yourself off the hospital bed, hobbling a little to keep weight off your ankle as you grab your skating bag from the nearby armchair.
âIs someone picking you up?â Keys asks, watching your ankle carefully as you swing your bag over your shoulder. He knew your skates were in there from how heavy the bag looked. âLike your parents? A friend? A partner?â
Keys knew that the last suggestion had been loaded and that you could see right through him but you didnât comment on it.
âNo, I was just going to get an Uber,â you tell him.
Keys should have left it there. Should have told you to rest your ankle and sent you on your way. But instead, Keys opened his mouth and said something he almost instantly regretted.
âI could take you back home,â he says so suddenly that he surprises even himself. âUm, I have my lunch coming up soâI donât mind taking you back home on my break.â
Why did he open his mouth? Why did he just offer to drive you home? Why did you have to look so damn pretty in thatâ
âOkay,â you say, forcing Keys out of the spiral he had been out to descend into. âYeah. If that wasnât a problem thenâthat would be great. Thank you, Doctor McKey.â
âItâs Keys,â he says gently. âPlease, call me Keys.â
It was no surprise to you whatsoever that Doctor McKeyâKeysâdrove a Toyota Prius. It also didnât surprise you that his most listened to artist was Noah Kahan or that the last playlist he had listened to had been called âCalming Mixâ.
âCan you stop going through my Spotify?â Keys asks you, face red as his eyes remain on the road while you flick through the app on the screen in his car.
âYou said I could be in charge of the musicââ
ââyouâve also been trying to find a song for the past five minutesââ
ââin my defence, I am high on pain medicationââ
ââyou had one Advil like an hour agoââ
The back and forth between you and Keys carries on for the entire car journey to your apartment. In the end, you selected Staying Still just as Keys pulled into your street.Â
âThank you DocâKeys,â you say when his car finally stops. âYou really didnât have to.â
âI know,â Keys says with a curt nod. âBut I wanted to. An Uber from the hospital would have been extortionate.â
âSure,â you say with a small laugh as you reach for the door handle. âWellâIâll see you in eight weeks for the all clear.â
Keys watches as you open up the car door, watches as you go to step out andâ
âDo you mind if I stop by to umâto check youâre doing okay?â He asks you in a slight panic because all of a sudden, eight weeks was too long to not see you. âBring you groceries orâŠwhatever you need.â
You had half climbed out of his car at this point but you pause at the question, turning to look back at him with a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth.
âIs this in a professional context? Like are you gonna bring a stethoscope orââ
ââno,â Keys shakes his head, feeling his face burn as he wonders what the fuck he was doing. âNo stethoscope."
âShame,â you tell him with a wry smile. âI like the whole McDreamy thing you got going on.â
âMcâwhatââ
But instead of answering, you finally climb out of his car before limping towards your apartment door. And Keys begins to wonder what the fuck had he just done.
Keys waits a respectable amount of timeâfour daysâbefore he first shows up at your apartment door with his arms full of groceries. He had spent way too much time and way too much money on the grocery shop for you but he told himself it was all in aid for your recovery. That he was being a good doctor.
But then he kept showing up. With groceries, with pizza from that Italian palace he knew you liked and one time, with some cupcakes he had âaccidentallyâ bought too many of. And after the first few visits, you began to invite him inâfor dinner, for a few episodes of whatever TV it was that you were watching. And Keys was happy to note that you were actually listening to his adviceâthat you were resting, keeping your leg elevated as much as you could and that you hadnât been skating since the trip to the ER.
It had been six weeks since then and Keys was over every couple of days now. You found that you had memorised the sound of his car pulling up outside your apartment. You found that those days Keys came over had quietly become your favourite. And Keys found himself thinking of excuses to visit you. He sometimes left his jacket on your couch just to come over the next day or because he had found a TV that he knew youâd like and needed to tell you about it immediately.
It was a Friday night and Keys had a difficult day in the ER. You didnât ask what had happened but you had heard about the fatal car crash that had occurred in the city earlier that day. The one that had killed an entire family. And so, you had suggested trying to make pizzas from scratch. It had gone horribly but Keys had managed to crack a smile for the first time that day.
You beam when you see it and you canât help yourself. Because Keys had been so good to you over the past few weeks that you wantedâneededâto say thank you. And so, you set down the dough you had been kneading with your hands for the past few minutes before you lean towards him, your lips aiming for his cheek.
But at that exact moment, Keys turned his headâlikely to ask you to pass the sauce or the olives or whatever, you donât find outâbecause instead of your lips landing on his cheekâthey plant themselves directly onto his lips.
The millisecond or so that your lips were pressed together, you find that his were soft. Pillowy. Ones you wanted to melt into.
But the accidental kiss lasts barely a second before the both of you pull away as though scolded.
âOh god,â you gasp, your face hot as you stare at Keys with wide eyes. âOh my godâIâm so sorry! I was trying to kiss you on the cheek but you turned and Iââ
ââno, no, no,â Keys says hurriedly, his face so red that he was almost the same colour as the tomatoey sauce as he raises his hands in surrender. âDonât be sorry! I meanâit was an honest mistake. A big, big massive mistakeââ
You laugh but it doesnât meet your eyes as the words big, massive mistake settle somewhere in your gut. Oh god, you felt awful for making him so uncomfortable but you didnât know what to say as he backed away from you a little. And so, you tell yourself that the best thing to do was laugh it off.
âWow,â you say with a forced laugh. âDidnât think youâd hate the idea of kissing me that much.â
You say it as a jokeâyou mean it as a joke but your tone makes it sound like anything but. Keys also stops kneading the pizza dough while you look away, not wanting him to see the look of disappointment on your face.Â
But before you could even think about returning your attention back to your half-made pizza, both of Keysâ large hands are suddenly resting gently on either side of your neck.
âKeys? What are youââ
Whatever you had been about to say is lost as Keys pulls you in. You barely have time to register what exactly was happening before his lips meet yours purposefully this time and suddenly? Nothing else matters.
His lips were still soft, still pillowy and they were gliding against yours as though they belonged there. You melted into him, your hands finding their way into his hair as his glasses pressed uncomfortably into your face. But you didnât careânot as you felt his warm tongue dive into your mouth in a move that left you feeling hot all over, that left the blood running through your veins humming.
Keys kissed you like he never wanted to stop, not caring about the flour that was now in his hair from your hands. And likewise, you didnât care about the flour that was now all over your neck. Not when kissing Keys felt this good. Not when his thumb gently traced over the skin of your neck as he deepened the kiss further, tilting your head back ever so slightly as you clung to him.
It was the sort of kiss that could have lasted for hours. But the sound of the pizza cutter that had been perched precariously on the edge of the kitchen countertop clattering to the ground was the thing that finally pulled you both apart.
You were both breathless, flustered and both unable to stop yourselves from smiling.
âI donât remember that being on my treatment plan, Doc,â you tease him.
Keys rolls his eyes but heâs smiling. He leans in to gently press his forehead against yours, licking his bottom lip as his eyes shift between yours. âYou make me sick sometimes, sweetheart,â he tells you before leaning in to press a gentle, sweet kiss to your lips. âBut good thing youâre the cure for it too.â
Your stomach warms at his words and itâs impossible not to beam at his words.
âMaybe I should get stress fractures more often if this is the sort of treatment you deliver.â
Keys shakes his head before pressing a kiss to your forehead. âAbsolutely not. Iâm wrapping you up in bubblewrap to keep you out of harm's way.â
You laugh but you have a feeling that he wasnât joking. Because there was no way Keys was letting his favourite patient ever get hurt again.
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