𝓐.

writer and djo lover - reqs open

[keeryeleison]

𝓐. ‘s master list

Hii! Here’s all my work so far, as organised as best I could. I mostly write for Steve Harrington and Joe Keery, but I’m open to writing for anyone from the Stranger Things cast or any other requested characters. My requests are always open, have fun reading 🪽

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—۶ৎ Steve Harrington

Requests: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

HC’s: 1 2 3 4

Original work: 1 2

Fan fiction: ‘Love Has No Pride’ Part 1 Part 2

—۶ৎ Joe Keery

Requests: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Original work: 1

HC’s : 1

[keeryeleison]

okay hi hi hi!!! had exams and totally forgot i had a page, so send in some requests, and i’ll get back into writing 💕

[keeryeleison]

Can I request a fluffy Joe Keery x fem reader long oneshot where reader is pregnant and their baby is due to come in just a couple of months, and reader worries Joe won’t be there for the baby’s first couple of months because he got offered to go on a tour that starts not long after the baby is born, and Joe surprises reader and tells her he turned it down because her and the baby are more important to him and he loves them more than anything and he is not going to let reader do this alone?

Joe Keery x F!Reader

—۶ৎ Request.

(sorry this is short and took so long to get to. been so busy 🙂‍↔️)

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It happened over dinner one night. Joe was talking about the upcoming tour, waving his fork around animatedly.

“And then I think it’ll be May the tour starts. At least that’s the date they ran by me,” he explained.

You froze for a second.

“May. This coming may?” you asked, frowning gently as you looked at him. He saw nothing wrong with this; it wasn’t like you were halfway through your pregnancy, already worrying over every small thing, and now he was disappearing only a month after the proposed due date.

“Yeah,” he answered, reaching for his glass, oblivious to what he was implying, “it’s ages away.”

“I get that. But isn’t a little soon to be going away?”

He seemed to catch onto what you were saying, setting his glass back down, frowning in turn as he did the mental math.

“I just don’t want you to miss anything. You’ve been so excited about the baby coming,” you added, resting your head on your hand.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t even think of it. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s a whole month after, I don’t think there would be any problems,” he said.

You frowned deeper at that. “A month isn’t very long. What if there’s complications, like a collapsed lung, or they get sick?”

Joe sighed a little, taking your hand from under your chin and holding it in his, calloused fingers tracing your knuckles. “You’re getting yourself worked up about it.”

“I have every reason to, especially if you’re not going to be here.”

“I’ll talk to them,” Joe said, softer, “I’ll talk with the guys and see what we can do.” He studied your face for a second, watching the frown ebb away, a look of annoyed contentment on your face now.

“Alright,” you muttered.

────୨ৎ────

The tour wasn’t brought up very often since that night.

Joe would mention about getting new parts for an instrument, but that would be it. You were more focused on getting things ready for the baby. You’d pester Joe daily, asking him to order everything you liked the look of. First, it was mittens, then a bassinet, then books, to which Joe initially refused; newborns couldn’t read. But you’d pouted at him and pleaded, and he finally gave in.

You spent all your time in the living room, sorting through the hundreds of packages that came, almost knee deep in baby clothes. You had onesies of almost every colour.

Joe came home earlier than usual. He’d been out shopping, a task he had willingly taken over. He was attentive, almost obsessively so. He took over most of the cooking, cleaning, organising. Anything you did before, was now his chore, and he never complained about it.

He set the bags down on the kitchen counter, and a second later he was leant against the doorway of the living room, pulling his shirt off.

“I spoke to the guys on the phone earlier,” he announced, walking in, setting his sweaty shirt on the armchair, “about the tour, that is.”

You turned around, baby hat in hand, “what did they say?”

“I let them know I turned it down. They’re having trouble with venue dates anyways, so they’re looking at pushing it back another two months, which wasn’t going to work,” he explained, settling down on the sofa, running a hand through his hair.

He didn’t expect the smile that graced your face at the news; within a phone call he had taken so much weight off your shoulders.

“Really?” you asked, setting the clothes down.

“Promise,” he answered, before holding a hand out to you. You placed your hand in his, letting him pull you up into his lap, his large hands settling against your hips.

“Thank you,” you muttered, arm wrapping around his neck. He pressed a kiss to your exposed shoulder.

“Don’t thank me,” he replied, “you and the baby are more important than anything. Now show me some of the clothes you got.”

[keeryeleison]

i know i haven’t really been too active, but im on spring break now so pretty pls send in requests 🫶

[keeryeleison]

rewatching season two and tearing up whenever i see el

[keeryeleison]

Hey! Can I have a Steve Harrington x fem!reader request where the reader is Johnathan Byer’s younger sister & Steve asks her out to a party during season 5? Steve things it might be a good idea just to have some fun. They are really close even tho Johnathan doesn’t approve. The reader is really shy & Steve is really protective of her? They end up making out at the end of the party? Opposites attract kind of situation.

Steve Harrington x F! Byers Reader

—۶ৎ You and Steve had always been opposites, but a party invite changes it all.

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“Can you at least put something good on?” you asked, rifling through the records in the station.

It was late at night, in the middle of a crawl. You had been left behind, as always, partly for protection and also to make sure nobody ambushed the radio station. When Johnathan had said that to you, you’d rolled your eyes so hard he’d scoffed at you. But he had always been like that. Over-protective. What he said went, and you had to deal with it. He was right every time.

The only problem was you were stuck with Steve Harrington. You didn’t mind him at all in fact, but you were always aware of how horrid he had been to your older brother a few years ago. But it seemed the two of you got left like this most nights now.

“What are you talking about, all this stuff is good,” Steve scoffed, holding up an Elton John record.

Whenever you got stuck like this, you resorted to music. It was a common ground between the whole party, and it turned out you and Steve did like some of the same stuff. Over the course of the last few months, you’d gotten scarily close because of it.

You waved your hand in dismissal, reaching for something else. Prince.

“Now this,” you replied, “is much better.”

You put the record on, letting the needle hit the grooves, the first few notes of Purple Rain playing out.

“I didn’t take you for someone who liked Prince. He seems too feisty for you,” Steve spoke. He wasn’t totally wrong. Steve was more into rock, whilst you preferred what was considered outdated. Bob Dylan, Linda Ronstadt, Joan Baez. The one time Steve had been to your home, he had teased you for your folk leaning tastes.

“Prince does rock. But better than whatever shit you listen to.”

You set the vinyl sleeve down, sitting down on one of the shipment containers littering the office. Steve watched you for a moment, arms folded, before taking a seat next to you.

“I’m having a party Friday night, you should come,” Steve said, breaking the silence. You shot him a look. A party, in the midst of all their problems? He seemed to read your mind. “I know it sounds silly. But with everything going on, it might be nice to do something normal again.”

“Ah yes, your routine get drunk and hookup with some random girl?” you asked, nudging his side.

“No. I’m not like that anymore.”

“Well, forgive me. That’s the only version of you I know.”

“Then come, and I’ll prove you wrong,” Steve said, shifting to look you in the eye. He seemed determined, staring down at you.

“Alright.”

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Music was blaring from your record player, The Beatles echoing throughout the house. Your mom had gone out for the night, with Hopper probably, so you had free rein to play whatever you liked.

You were sat on the floor of your room, gently applying eyeliner to your eyes, knees hugged to your chest. A knock came from the door, and Johnathan came in.

“You’re going somewhere?” he asked, looking at you, and then the array of clothes scattered on the floor.

“A party,” you answered, setting the eyeliner down.

“Steve’s party?”

You paused for a second, before reaching for your eyeshadow,“Yes. Steve’s party.”

Johnathan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N listen-.”

“You’re going to tell me not to hang out with someone like that. That he’s going to break my heart. But it’s not like that, Johnny. I swear,” you replied, holding your hands up like they were proof.

“I’m right about him, Y/N. Just don’t do anything stupid,” he muttered, turning and shutting your door.

────୨ৎ────

You got to Steve’s place at what you felt like was a good time. Not the first, but not the last.

It was busy, people walking into his house, some coming out with cups in hand, others by the pool. The music was loud, and you could see Steve playing the perfect guest through the kitchen window. You sighed slightly, unsure of what you were really doing here. You didn’t do parties.

You pulled the sleeves of your shirt down, and made your way up the steps, and to the door, pushing past a drunk couple as you went inside. You went straight for the drinks table, hoping to see someone that you knew that wasn’t Steve.

────୨ৎ────

So far, it had been boring on your side. Some dude had passed out in Steve’s dad’s recliner, and you’d made small talk with a million people, and been glared at by their girlfriends.

You went to get one last drink, leaning against the counter, when two large hands snaked around your waist. Steve. You knew his hands, from the many times you’d watched him play around with records at the station.

“Careful there. My mom would cry if her counter got all sticky,” he said, breath hitting your ear, taking your cup from you and setting it down.

“Is that you admitting you don’t know how to clean counters?” you asked, leaning back into him. You were clearly tipsy by this point, but that’s what dull conversations with dull people did to you.

“Of course I know how. But the amount of sugar you had in there would probably never come off,” he said, hands still around you, guiding you away from the punch bowl. “How are you finding your first proper party?”

“I’ve been to one before, thank you.”

“Your older brothers nerd gatherings when he was fifteen with stolen beer don’t count,” he chuckled.

“How’d you know about those?” you asked, frowning up at him.

“You told me,” Steve answered.

“I didn’t think you listened.”

“I always do,” he said, before dragging you through the house to the hallway, where it was almost deserted. He leant you back against the wall, keeping close by, like he was scared you would fall.

It was still loud, music blaring from all over the house. You weren’t even sure how he’d managed to do that.

A few guys, surely Steve’s friends, walked past, offering you a smile, one winking. Steve glared as they went past, before looking back at you.

“You want a lift home?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“My brother is getting me, it’s alright.”

“What time?”

“Why do you need to know?” you asked, cocking your head as you looked up at him.

“So I know you’re going to get home safe,” he said bluntly.

“Don’t need to worry about me,” you hummed, eyes drifting back to where the dining hall door was.

Steve stepped forward, warm, rough hand snatching your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

“It’s fine. You were busy hosting with all those girls,” you said, smiling a little.

He rolled his eyes, hand firm on your face, bringing the other one up to rest on your bare shoulder. His touch was soothing, making you feel less dizzy somehow.

“I told you, I’m not like that anymore.”

You were tempted to laugh in his face. “Prove it.”

Steve had told you he would prove he wasn’t the same as he was in High School. And that’s why he didn’t hesitate when he leant forward, soft lips pressing against yours. Your drunken mind took a second to respond, but soon your eyes had fluttered closed, and you were leaning back into him, his lips moving against yours, your hands snaking up his neck. He had one hand on your face, the other firm against the back of your neck, thumb running up and down the top of your back as he titled his head, moulding your face to his. He was so close you could be mistaken for one person. But it was bliss; the expertise in which he kissed you, tongue exploring your mouth.

Eventually you pulled back, flushed and fighting for breath. Steve was simply staring down at you, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Holy shit,” you breathed. This was new to you. You weren’t the girl that went out on the weekend and kissed guys like Steve Harrington. You didn’t usually get a second look from guys, or hang out with the right crowd. You were a carbon copy of your older brother, someone Steve had sworn as his enemy. Yet here he was, making out with his little sister in the hallway.

“That bad?” Steve asked, his hand brushing back some of your ruffled hair, from where he’d accidentally tugged at it.

“Yeah, actually,” you teased, smiling, before pulling him back in, hands encasing his face, desperate. Steve smiled into the kiss in return, pressing you back into the wall.

This was the one thing your brother had been wrong about.

[keeryeleison]

found out i have access to cold storage do i watch?

[keeryeleison]

Joe Keery x F! Reader

—۶ৎ What I imagine it would be like to date Joe.

HC’s 🪽

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۶ৎ When you first started dating, there would defo be some awkward moments, but looking back they would come across more endearing. He’d be so eager to show you the music he was working on, and he’d play you something strange and experimental, forgetting it wasn’t exactly your thing. Or showing you his weird hat collection the on the first date.

۶ৎ Has one summer vacation place, and you’re getting dragged along every year. I’m thinking Greece or Italy. And he’ll stay in the same family run hotel each time, and shop at the local market.

۶ৎ He’d be very on board with trying to get you to listen to the music he’s into. If you’re particularly stubborn about sticking to your own taste, he’ll find songs that blend the genres, and play them in the car whenever he’s driving you somewhere, until eventually he’s just playing his own playlist and you hardly notice.

۶ৎ Movie nights are a must. But he likes things in order and you go by director. You start with Tarantino, then Nolan and Coppola. It happens every Friday night, and Joe likes making pretzels for you to share during it.

۶ৎ He’s also a great cook. Confirmed I swear. You get home from work, or a night out, and he’s made a three course meal just because he can, and now he has you to share it all with.

۶ৎ Just because he can cook I still think he sacks of that kind of thing whilst touring. As we can tell he still works out and stuff, but he lives off weird things like cheese and crackers whilst on the road. Although, if you’re with him, he will get a little dolled up with you and take you to some nicer places in whatever country you’re in.

۶ৎ Girl dad to the max. Babysits his niece any chance he gets, who becomes rather attached to you as a result. He’ll let you take her for the day sometimes, and you’ll go to a cafe or shopping.

۶ৎ Internally one of those old men who stay up in bed late with the bedside lamp on, reading a book, glasses sliding down his nose. Probably holding the book closer to his face because he’s always squinting.

۶ৎ Like his hat collection, he has lots of other random collections. Like stamps, so he can show you all the places he’s been before he met you. So into fridge magnets too, to show your future kids. If you’re not into jewellery much before you get together, he changes that. You’ll have a new set of earrings, or a new ring, almost every week. He’s such a hoarder. But would probably get rid of some of his things if it meant you had more space.

[keeryeleison]

Can I request a fluffy Joe Keery x fem! reader oneshot where it’s reader’s Birthday and she wakes up to Joe and their daughter coming into the room singing Happy Birthday dear mommy and Joe holding a cupcake with a candle on it and their daughter gives her a card she made that has a drawing of their family on it and a note inside saying she’s the best mommy and also a note from Joe as well?

Joe Keery x F! Reader

—۶ৎ Its your birthday, and your husband and daughter start the morning with a surprise.

(sorry this is late and probably not the best. had a hectic week 😭)

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The sun was spilling into the bedroom, the bed cold save for where you lay, hair spread on the pillow, hand reaching out to the other end. Empty. You frowned, tired eyes opening, searching for what wasn’t there. Joe. He never got out of bed until you did, even if he woke up earlier every morning.

You sat up in bed, adjusting your shirt which had slipped half of your body, and brushing over your tangled hair. You were about to get out of bed when you heard it.

Soft footsteps in the hallway, and hushed voices. Then the creak of the door handle, and finally Joe’s face peeking around the corner, a bright smile on his face.

He pushed the door open, revealing Daphne, your little girl, an even wider grin on her face, holding a card bigger than her head. Joe whispered something to her, and a moment later the two started singing happy birthday, in an attempt at being in unison. Joe was singing louder, guiding her through the song, whilst trying to light a candle on the cupcake he was holding, whilst Daphne was trying not to trip over her own two feet whilst holding the card.

Eventually they finished, and she climbed up on the bed with you.

“Look mama, I made you a card!” she said, holding the card out, which you took with a smile.

“Thank you baby. Why don’t we blow out the candle together?” you asked, Joe settling down on the edge of the bed. He pulled you closer, hand settling on your back, fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt.

“Cmon baby, I didn’t slave over batter for an hour for you not to blow it out,” he said, holding the cupcake out to you, to which you laughed, pulling Daphne closer and gently blowing on the candle, even though it was mostly you. Daphne still didn’t have a grip on blowing on things, meaning she had burnt her tongue more times than you two would admit.

Joe gave a little cheer, before Daphne grabbed the card from you and thrust it in your face again. “Read,” she demanded.

“Alright, alright,” you mumbled, pulling her into your lap. You opened the card, squinting at the mess of colours at first. But then you realised what it was; a sweet little drawing of you, Joe and Daphne in the middle, and many hearts everywhere, all in different colours. She had written lots of things, clearly with Joe’s help, like ‘best mommy’ and ‘i love you’ multiple times.

“You did this all by yourself?” you asked Daphne, setting the card on your beside table, pressing a kiss to the little girls temple. Her face lit up.

“Yep. Daddy didn’t help at all. I did it,” she replied. Joe shot you a look, and then rolled his eyes.

“Presents mama, they’re waiting.” Daphne got up from your lap, scurrying out the bedroom and down the hallway. You smiled watching her go, before turning to Joe.

“We need to teach her how to spell better. And not to lie,” he grumbled, looking back to you. But then he smiled, the kind of smile that meant he was about to do something stupid.

“Joe Keery, don’t look at me like that-“

But it was too late. He was smiling too hard as he tackled you to the bed, tickling your sides and peppering kisses all over your face, his hands under your shirt.

He went on for a few minutes, your face flush from laughter.

“Happy birthday baby,” he said, pressing one final, and much gentler, kiss to your lips before sitting up again.

“Thank you,” you replied, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“We’re going to do presents, per Daphne’s request, and then we made breakfast,” he spoke, “and then we can do whatever you want. I heard there’s a new record store downtown. But we have a dinner reservation tonight. I already arranged a babysitter.”

“Someone’s prepared.”

“It’s your birthday. Only like… once a year, you know. And it took me ages to get that stupid dinner reservation. Had to be for something special.”

“Is it that fancy place I told you not to book because the prices were ridiculous?”

“Maybe.”

You hit his arm lightly. “Joe,” you warned.

“I know, but everyone loves it, and it’s fancy, so you can dress up,” he replied, grabbing your hand in his so you didn’t hit him a second time.

Daphne called from the living room, interrupting the two of you. Joe stood up, pulling you with him. You glanced back to the bed, the cupcake and candle abandoned, with another card underneath. Joe looked back to you, following your gaze.

“It’s something I wrote for you. Open it later,” he said, voice soft.

You nodded, letting him guide you out to the living room, where your daughter was waiting.

[keeryeleison]

Joe Keery x F! Reader

—۶ৎ You’re already married, and your husband throws a random party, where you meet Joe, who you get along with better than you both thought.

(literally a random idea, but set this up for a part two if anyone would like it, or multiple parts)

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It was fancy dress. Corsets, silks, pearls. You had been squeezed into some silly lilac dress, corset strings pulled tight against your back, achingly so, almost unable to move around the ballroom; the ballroom which had paintings put up and a new chandelier installed and a live band. Or orchestra, not that you could tell the difference. It was the perks of marrying rich.

You had long abandoned love by the time you had met your husband. He was charming enough, famous, and relatively kind other than when he didn’t get what he wanted. The wedding had been nice; a statement lace dress, your photo on the cover of Vogue magazine.

You made your way through the ballroom, mindful of what seemed to be thousands of guests, until you bumped shoulders with someone. You stopped, lips parting to apologise, but you had been beaten to it.

“God, sorry. Your dress isn’t ruined is it?” he asked.

Joe. Joe Keery. You had seen him on social media a few times, watched some of his movies, but never spoken. Your wedding had a guest list so long you couldn’t recall if he had been there. But he seemed familiar enough.

“No, it’s not. Even if it was I think I’d rather thank you,” you replied, offering a polite smile, one that seemed to come easier around him.

“Thank me for ruining such a pretty dress?”

“It doesn’t suit my complexion,” you spoke, sipping from the champagne flute in your hand.

Joe seemed to look you up and down, gaze lingering on where dress met skin, the pearls in your hair. “No, not really. I mean, you’re pretty. It’s just not the best for your undertones.”

“That’s what I said, but I was basically forced into it.”

“By your husband or the millions of maids?”

You were tempted to roll your eyes at that, especially at the mention of your husband, “A friend,” you answered.

“Let them know they have bad colour taste. Not that you don’t look nice,” he said, his voice bordering sincere. He seemed to have a pitiful look in his eyes, like he was talking to someone who had just received bad news. Sure, you didn’t walk around with a bright smile, but it surely wasn’t that bad.

“Well, thank you. You don’t look so bad either,” you spoke, raising your glass in salute, to him perhaps. He met you halfway, dainty glass clinking against your own, gaze locked in yours. He had nice eyes, skin crinkled at the edges from his smile.

“You’re much kinder than your husband made out,” Joe blurted, keeping his eyes on you. He was too good at eye contact.

“Depends what he said.”

“That you’re not too bothered with him,” he replied, a hint of humour in his tone. It wasn’t a lie; your gaze drifted at events and concerts, you often kept away from him when possible, preferring a book as company, and rolled your eyes numerous times when he spoke.

“I won’t say it’s not the truth.”

Joe laughed at that, finally lowering his glass from yours. Neither of you had realised they were still connected. “I hope that treatment is partial to him only.”

────୨ৎ────

The two of you spoke more, wandering the halls of your house, ending up sat on the patio outside. He spoke of touring, what it was like filming shows and movies, and his favourite movies. You found yourself agreeing with him often, smiling more than you had in a while. He listened; observing with a tenderness you thought forgotten.

“You should come on tour with us,” he proposed, finishing the last of his whiskey, stolen from your husband’s collection, and setting the glass down on the stone step.

It took you back. Really, you’d love to. Throw the towel in and run off with a rockstar.

“I’m not sure I’d be allowed to,” you replied honestly.

“You should be allowed to make your own decisions.”

“Yes. But it does look a little strange if I ran off across the globe with another man,” you said, staring down at your lap, studying the dress creases.

Joe stayed silent for a moment, gaze drifting up and down your side profile, studying the slope of your nose, the birthmark on your neck, the beauty marks you seemed to have in excess. He wanted to kiss every one, count them, all over your body.

“It would only look strange if that was our intention,” he answered, voice raspier than it had been a moment ago.

You looked up once more, smiling and shaking your head. “And you assume I’d be able not to?” you asked, “you paint a picture of paradise whilst I am stuck here.”

“I can speak with him.”

“Don’t trouble yourself with such a feat. Save your breath for singing.”

“So you won’t come?” Joe asked, dejected. He wanted you there. Wanted you backstage, maybe taking photos, singing along. He wanted you in the tour bus, legs stretched over his lap, listening to him throw chords around on an old guitar. Wanted to sing old seventies song in your hotel room and dance around.

“I hope you know I want to,” you said gently, features softening. It wasn’t an overt rejection.

Joe nodded, looking back to his empty glass, as if there would be another mouthful of whiskey to make this go down easier. Instead he rummaged around in his blazer pocket, reducing a small film camera.

“Let me take your photo,” he requested.

You rolled your eyes, but nodded anyways, setting your glass down.

“How do you want me?” you asked.

“Preferably, no clothes on in my hotel bed. Realistically, just like that, with a slight smile, and your chest angled toward me more,” he replied, grinning as he held the camera up.

You suppressed a laugh, biting down slightly on your lip as you smiled, letting him take the photo.

Finally, he lowered the camera, staring at you breathlessly. He went to say something, before who you presumed was a bandmate came out, hovering in the doorway. They exchanged a few words, before Joe stood, gathered his camera and empty glass.

“Tell your husband to throw parties more often,” he spoke, walking closer.

He leant down, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck; where it connected to your shoulder, right over a collection of freckles. Your breath hitched, but before you could say anything he was gone, the patio door closed behind him.

[keeryeleison]

f1 fic pls !! driver!reader or js wag!reader gets into a car accident tyy

any specific driver or like head cannons for a few of them??

[keeryeleison]

thinking like a joe or steve saltburn mashup

[keeryeleison]

and what if i extended my requests to f1 drivers.

[keeryeleison]

Can I request a fluffy Joe Keery x fem! reader oneshot where Joe surprises reader and their daughter by coming back home early?

Joe Keery x F! Reader

—۶ৎ Joe has been away touring, but comes home early to surprise Y/N and his daughter.

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It was late in the evening. All day, for the past few weeks, Daphne had been pestering Y/N relentlessly about when daddy was coming back. Joe had only been gone a week and a half this time, but it felt like years, and he wasn’t due back for another few days.

At breakfast, she would ask where he was, what time the show was, if he would come home after. Y/N would have to explain to their daughter that if he was all the way across the country, he couldn’t come home the same night. Daphne didn’t get it, and spent the next five minutes sulking over her cereal.

At midday she would ask the same questions in succession, even stealing her mother’s phone to try and call him. Every time he would answer, assure Daphne it was only another few days.

At bedtime, she’d sit in the bath, talking about how she missed his bedtime stories.

Y/N missed him too. She missed the warmth from the other side of the bed in the morning, the neck kisses over coffee, taking Daphne shopping or to a cafe, or simply sitting and listening to what he was working on. It was tearing her apart. But she sucked it up.

────୨ৎ────

It was close to bedtime again, Daphne blabbering on about her dad. Y/N was stood behind her at the vanity, brushing a comb through Daphne’s damp curls, humming along and agreeing whenever she could.

Ten minutes later, the front door to the apartment opened, then closed. Y/N paused, listening, but it was quiet. A few of Y/N’s friends had a copy of the key, but it was for emergency’s, and nobody had said they were coming. Daphne had a better idea of who it was though.

She pushed herself from the stool, bounding out her bedroom and down the hallway. It was only a few seconds later when she heard giggling and Joe’s voice did Y/N follow after.

He was there in the living room, throwing Daphne up and down in his arms, before holding her against his hip, as she rambled on and on as she always did. Y/N stayed leant against the doorway, a soft smile on her face.

“I thought you weren’t back for a few days,” she spoke, watching the two.

“Venue problems. Finished early,” Joe replied, running a large hand through Daphne’s hair. “And I got about fifty messages from this one from your phone demanding I come home. Can’t deny my baby girl.”

Joe pressed a kiss to Daphne’s cheek before setting her down, and walking over to Y/N. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her off the door and into his arms.

“Didn’t get someone to replace me this time?” he asked, running his hands up and down her back, peppering kisses across her face.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Last tour, her friend had slept over so she wasn’t too lonely without him.

“Some random man is in our bed, yeah,” she teased, smiling up at him, “found someone better.”

“Not someone Daphne would ever be very fond of though,” he replied. The little girl was already clinging to his leg, tiny hands grasping onto his jeans. She looked up at the sound of her name, grinning widely at her parents.

[keeryeleison]

hii! just wanted to come on and say thank you for 100 followers 🫶 it means the world considering i haven’t had this page very long.

i’ve been pretty busy these last few days so sorry for the lack of posts, but i promise i’ll do some writing. have a 10 hour road trip to do it ;)

so pls send in some requests!!!

[keeryeleison]

joe keery x fem reader who’s the lead singer of their band 🙂‍↕️

Joe Keery x F! Reader

—۶ৎ HC’s: You’re the lead singer in Joe’s band, and he’s been fixated on you from the moment you met.

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۶ৎ You had met Joe and his bandmates at another gig, shocker. You were in another band at the time, some stupid pop group you hated, doing backup vocals and guitar. Or as you saw it, eye candy, considering some of the stuff you were asked to wear.

۶ৎ The show had gone fine, well even. Joe had come up to you after the end, sneaking his way backstage to get to you. He’d been unable to take his eyes off you the whole time, barely listening to the music. You talk for what felt like hours, until he finally asked if you were happy with what you were doing. It had taken you bad. He said you didn’t look happy up there. At first you had denied it, rolling your eyes and asking if he was trying to dictate how you felt, but then he asked it again, and you took a moment to think about the answer.

۶ৎ Safe to say, you had said no, and you were on the next flight back to New York City with Joe. He offered a trial, almost. Come and be with his band, listen to some stuff, maybe do a show, to see how you got on.

۶ৎ You loved every moment of course. After a few days, Joe made the mistake of asking you to sing lead vocals on something. He stopped when he heard you through the feed. From that moment on you were signing everything. He never wanted to listen to anything else.

۶ৎ Shows went well. A lot better than you had expected. You’d seen almost the whole world, cramped in the back of the tour bus with Joe. It was always you two at the back; inseparable. He’d bring a guitar along so you could work on songs, or you’d sit and talk, or look through photos. Sometimes simply sitting in silence was enough, your head on his shoulder.

۶ৎ When you weren’t travelling, you were running around random countries in the middle of the night. Stargazing, or trying to find one shop that was open, so you could get your ice cream fix. Spoiler, you two always shared a room together. Your sleeping patterns were in sync, and you were always the only two awake at stupid times in the morning. But it made it all the more fun.

۶ৎ Being on stage was the best part. Stood in the middle, the band behind you, and Joe, usually stood with you or off to the side. He hardly looked at the crowed anymore unless he was talking to them. All he wanted to look at was you, pretty hands resting on the mic stand, singing, looking back at him, the venue lights making you look like an angel.

[keeryeleison]

Joe said in one interview once that he hates TikTok dance and I can’t stop thinking about chronically online reader x joe 😞 maybe she’s a content creator just for fun idk and she is trying to teach him the Opalite dance and secretly recording just for fun and accidentally posts on her acc and joe is like 😧 you tricked me

Joe Keery x F! Reader

—۶ৎ Where you try and teach your not very online boyfriend Joe to keep up with the latest trends.

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Living with Joe was fun. It was slower mornings, decent coffee, watching him strum on his guitar in the living room. But it was also trying to explain loads of different internet things to him, as he didn’t have a habit of being on his phone much. You did. You loved it, not to the point it took over your life, but you were really into the whole grwm scene and things like that. It had confused Joe when you started getting PR from celebrity brands, but he went with it, sometimes lingering in the back of your videos, arms folded, watching you explain your makeup or hair to the camera.

His grasp on things were getting better, but not quite.

“What does body tea mean?” Joe asked one day, walking into the bedroom, where you were sat, reading. You looked up, the hint of a smile on your face.

“Body tea?” You asked.

“Yeah, someone just commented it on my instagram.”


You had to hold back a laugh. “It’s a compliment. Like your figure is tea. Good.”

Joe hummed, nodding his head as he thought it over. He muttered the phrase under his breath, before waving a hand in dismissal and wandering back out the room.

────୨ৎ────

You finally had the bright idea to get Joe in on the trends.

It started in the kitchen, he was making coffee. You pretended to be engrossed on your phone, and he’d leant over your shoulder, looking at this dance that was trending right now. He’d asked what the hype around it was, you shrugged, but then asked if he wanted to try it.

He shot you a skeptical look. Then he agreed on the condition you didn’t record it.

So you set about trying to learn it. It took almost an hour. The coffee had gotten cold. He was stiff in his movements, forgetting the choreography half the time, but he had the biggest grin on his face, laughing when he failed; it was something you were doing together, focused around something you liked. Why wouldn’t he be happy?

Finally, you got one good take, Joe finally able to do it, although he was always looking over at you for guidance. Luckily, he hadn’t seen your phone was actually recording the whole time, and he only found out a few hours later.

────୨ৎ────

It was late at night, you sat on the sink in the bathroom, scrunching at your wet hair, a focused look on your face. Joe was stood behind you, on his phone, towel slung loosely around his hips.

Out of the blue he pinched you. You turned around, shocked look on your face. But he only smiled.

“You posted that video,” he said, laughing a little and showing you a screenshot of it on his instagram feed.

“No, not me. I would never, not sure what you’re on about,” you replied, shrugging and turning back to the mirror.

He set his phone down, toned arms snaking around your waist. “You tricked me,” he muttered into your side.

“Tricked you for content. Makes it less malicious,” you defended.

“Whatever you say sweetheart. I’m never doing a social media dance again,” Joe said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He stepped back, walking out, conveniently dropping the towel from his hips as he walked out. You only watched as he left, eyes trailing down his body before rolling your eyes and looking back to your reflection.