I just needdddd to be in an airport with joe all sleep deprived and jet lagged and hanging onto him in the baggage claim. I think that photo of him in the airport has brought hat out int me
airport
joe keery x reader
val speaks - need to be w a sleepy joe
the plane lands with that dull thud that runs through the floor and up your spine. it makes a few people around you stir, seatbelts clicking, overhead bins opening too early. you’re still half asleep, forehead leaning against the window, brain foggy from too many hours in the air.
joe’s hand has been resting on the small of your back since the plane started descending.
it’s warm there, steady, like he forgot it was even there. every now and then his thumb moves a little, slow and absentminded, like he’s barely awake too.
“we home?” he mumbles beside you, voice rough with sleep.
you glance at him over your shoulder. his hair’s a mess from leaning back against the seat, eyes still half closed.
“pretty sure” you say quietly.
he hums, not fully convinced, but doesn’t move his hand.
getting off the plane feels slower than it should. everyone shuffling forward, stopping, starting again. joe stays close behind you the whole time, his hand never leaving your back as you move down the aisle and into the airport. the place is bright in that harsh early-morning way, and your brain is still somewhere over the atlantic.
neither of you talk much while walking to baggage claim. you're both tired enough that words feel unnecessary.
his hand slides from your back only when you stop near the carousel.
for a second you think he’s finally letting go.
instead, he steps closer behind you and wraps both arms around your waist.
you laugh softly in surprise as his chin settles on your shoulder, his head tucked into the crook of your neck. his hair brushes your cheek.
“joe” you say, amused.
“mm” he answers.
he sounds like he’s about two seconds from falling asleep standing up.
you can feel his breath against your neck, slow and warm, and when you laugh again you feel something shift, the small curve of a smile pressed lightly into your skin.
“you’re using me as a pillow.”
“you’re the right height” he mumbles.
the baggage carousel starts moving with that loud mechanical clunk. people crowd a little closer around it, but joe doesn’t move. his arms stay loosely around you, fingers laced together over your stomach like he forgot he’s in public.
you lean back into him slightly without thinking.
eventually your suitcase rolls around.
you nudge him with your elbow. “there's ours.”
he groans quietly but lifts his head, blinking like the lights are too bright. he grabs the suitcase off the belt with one hand, then yours, and immediately drifts back to your side again.
by the time you get outside to the pickup area, the cold air hits your face and wakes you up a little.
your friend’s car pulls up a minute later.
“you two look dead” they say through the open window.
joe doesn’t even argue. he just opens the back door and gently nudges you inside first.
you start to slide toward the window seat, but he stops you.
“middle” he says softly.
“why.”
he gives you a look like the answer is obvious.
you sigh but shuffle into the middle seat anyway. he climbs in after you, stretching his arm along the back of the seat behind you before letting it drop around your shoulders.
as soon as the car starts moving, your head tips toward him.
he’s already half asleep again.
your friend starts talking about the drive and traffic and something that happened while you were gone, but the words blur together.
joe’s head leans against yours.
his arm tightens slightly around you, instinctive, even though his eyes are closed.
ten minutes later you’re both asleep in the back seat, pressed together, still holding onto each other like neither of you noticed the trip ended.
Joe Keery x reader where they’re strangers. They randomly start dreaming about each other and brush it off (the reader finds it odd that she dreamt about Joe Keery bc she had only watched like one of his projects) then boom they suddenly meet by like bumping into each other on a random day in New York (you can change how they met however you like)
YOU’RE MY DREAM GIRL
joe keery x reader
desc - you're literally his dream girl.. maybe in more ways than one
val speaks - i am obsessed w this idea omg ! thanku sm for requesting it i hope i did it justice
you don’t usually remember your dreams.
most mornings they disappear before you even sit up. just vague shapes and the feeling that something happened while you were asleep. nothing clear enough to think about.
this one stays.
you’re standing somewhere that feels familiar but also not. maybe a grocery store. maybe a convenience shop. the lights are that weird bright kind that make everything look slightly too clean. you’re holding a basket but you can’t remember picking anything up.
someone laughs behind you.
you turn around and it’s him.
not in a dramatic way. not like a movie moment where music swells and everything slows down. he’s just… standing there like he’s supposed to be there. like you both accidentally ended up in the same aisle.
you recognise him after a second.
joe keery.
you’ve seen stranger things before, obviously. most people have. but you wouldn’t call yourself a fan or anything. you don’t follow him online. you don’t watch interviews. if someone asked you what he’d been in besides that show you probably couldn’t answer.
still, it’s definitely him.
his hair’s a little messy, like he just ran his hands through it too many times. he’s holding a bag of chips and reading the back of it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
then he looks up and notices you staring.
“what?” he says, half smiling.
you immediately look away.
“nothing” you mumble, suddenly aware you’re standing in the middle of the aisle like an idiot.
when you glance back he’s still looking at you. not in a weird way. more like he’s trying to remember something.
“do i know you?” he asks.
you shake your head.
“no.”
he squints slightly, like he’s not convinced, but then he shrugs and tosses the chips into his basket.
“huh.”
and that’s it.
the dream kind of… dissolves after that.
no big ending. no weird plot twist. just the feeling of walking past him and hearing the automatic doors slide open.
you wake up staring at your ceiling.
it’s still dark outside and your room is quiet except for the low hum of your fan.
for a second you just lie there, trying to piece together what you just dreamed about.
“that was weird” you mutter to yourself.
it’s not the strangest dream you’ve ever had. people dream about celebrities all the time. your brain probably just pulled his face from somewhere random.
maybe you scrolled past something about him earlier. maybe someone mentioned stranger things.
your brain does dumb stuff like that.
still, the dream felt… oddly normal.
like you had just run into someone you vaguely knew at the store.
you grab your phone from the nightstand and check the time.
3:17 am.
after a minute you roll over and close your eyes again.
by morning you’ve mostly forgotten about it.
-
across the city, someone else wakes up too.
joe sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes.
his apartment is quiet except for the distant sound of traffic outside the window. he glances at the clock on the wall.
3:17 am.
“weird” he murmurs.
he had a dream.
he doesn’t usually remember them either, but this one stuck around just enough to be annoying.
there was a grocery store.
or maybe a convenience store.
he was reading the back of a bag of chips when he noticed someone staring at him.
you.
he can remember your face clearly. which is strange, because usually dream faces are kind of blurry. like extras in the background of a movie.
but yours wasn’t.
he frowns slightly, trying to place you.
an old friend? someone from high school? a fan he met once?
nothing clicks.
“do i know you?” he mutters, repeating the line he said in the dream.
the memory fades before he can think about it too hard.
joe shrugs it off and falls back onto the pillow.
people have weird dreams all the time.
it doesn’t mean anything.
still, when he falls asleep again, your face lingers in the back of his mind longer than it should.
-
the next time it happens you don’t even realise you’re dreaming at first.
you’re lying on a couch. that’s the first thing you notice. your cheek is pressed into a pillow and there’s a soft blanket half thrown over you. the room is dim except for the light from a tv somewhere in front of you, the kind that flickers against the walls.
there’s an arm around your waist.
you don’t question it immediately. it just feels normal. comfortable in the way things only feel when you’ve been somewhere long enough that you stop noticing the details.
then you hear his voice.
“you’re gonna fall asleep again.”
you shift slightly and look up.
it’s him.
joe keery.
he’s leaning back into the couch, one arm around you, the other holding the remote loosely. his thumb taps the buttons like he’s trying to find something worth watching.
for some reason this doesn’t feel weird.
in the dream it makes sense. like this is just what happens on a random night when you’re both too tired to do anything else.
“i’m not asleep” you mumble.
he glances down at you, clearly not believing that.
“you were out like five seconds ago.”
“i was resting my eyes.”
he laughs quietly at that, the kind of laugh that happens automatically. like he’s heard that excuse before.
you shift a little closer into him without thinking. his arm tightens slightly around you like it’s second nature.
the tv keeps playing something neither of you are really paying attention to.
there’s nothing dramatic happening. just the quiet background noise of the show and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
it feels weirdly real.
you notice small things. the warmth of the blanket. the way his fingers absently tap against your arm. the faint smell of laundry detergent on his hoodie.
after a minute he looks down at you again.
“you’re staring” he says.
“no i’m not.”
“yeah you are.”
you don’t answer that. you just look away toward the tv, pretending you care about whatever’s on the screen.
he nudges you slightly with his shoulder.
“if you fall asleep again i’m not carrying you to bed.”
“you’ve literally never carried me anywhere” you say.
he pauses.
“that’s not true.”
you turn your head toward him.
“when?”
he thinks for a second like he’s trying to remember.
“okay, maybe i’m remembering wrong.”
you roll your eyes a little and settle back against him.
it’s quiet again after that.
comfortable quiet.
and that’s the part that makes it strange later. because nothing about it feels like a dream while you’re there. it feels like something that’s been happening for a long time already.
like this is just another normal night.
you wake up staring at your ceiling again.
for a few seconds you don’t move.
then you sit up slowly.
“okay,” you say out loud to your empty room. “what the fuck.”
your heart’s beating a little faster than it should be and you rub your face with both hands like that’ll reset your brain.
it was so vivid.
not just seeing him. feeling things. the couch. the blanket. his arm around you.
you drop back onto the pillow and stare at the ceiling again.
“why him” you mutter.
it would make more sense if it was someone you actually liked or followed or something. but you barely think about joe keery. he’s just some actor from a show you watched a while ago.
eventually you get up and go about your day.
by the afternoon the weirdness has faded a little, but it’s still sitting in the back of your head.
so later you call your friend.
you don’t even bring it up seriously. you’re half laughing already when you start explaining it.
“i keep having dreams about joe keery,” you say.
there’s a pause on the other end of the phone.
then she bursts out laughing.
“the guy from stranger things?”
“yes.”
“are you secretly obsessed with him or something?”
“no,” you say immediately. “that’s the weird part. i literally never think about him.”
she’s still laughing.
“what happened in the dream?”
you hesitate for a second.
“we were… dating i think.”
that just makes her laugh harder.
“oh my god.”
“it wasn’t like that,” you protest. “we were literally just sitting on a couch.”
“sure.”
“i’m serious.”
you end up laughing too because the whole thing does sound ridiculous when you say it out loud.
“your brain just picked a random celebrity,” she says once she calms down. “it happens. i once dreamed i was married to the guy from the hunger games.”
“which one?”
“exactly.”
you shake your head even though she can’t see you.
“yeah, okay. fair.”
by the time the call ends you’ve mostly convinced yourself it’s nothing.
just a weird dream.
your brain doing random brain things.
-
joe is sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of coffee he forgot to drink.
he’s been staring at the same spot on the counter for a few minutes.
because he had the dream again.
this time it wasn’t a grocery store.
it was a couch.
you were curled up next to him like it was completely normal. like you’d done it a hundred times before.
he can still remember the warmth of you curled up in front of him.
which is… strange.
dreams don’t usually feel like that.
he runs a hand through his hair and exhales slowly.
“where the hell have i seen you” he mutters.
your face is stuck in his head again. clear enough that it’s annoying.
so he starts trying to figure it out.
maybe you’re an actor he saw in something recently. maybe his brain just recycled a face from a movie.
he grabs his phone and starts scrolling through the last few things he watched.
cast lists.
photos.
names he vaguely recognises.
nothing.
no one looks like you.
after a while he drops the phone onto the table and leans back in the chair.
“okay,” he says to the empty kitchen. “so you’re not real.”
that’s the only explanation that makes sense.
his brain just made you up.
a completely random face.
still, when he closes his eyes for a second, he can picture you perfectly. the way you looked up at him from the couch like the two of you had known each other forever.
joe frowns slightly.
because fake or not, it didn’t feel like a dream either
-
a few weeks pass before it starts feeling normal.
not normal exactly, but expected.
the dreams keep happening. not every night, but often enough that you stop waking up in a panic about it. sometimes you’re in random places together. a kitchen, a street corner, sitting on the floor of some apartment that your brain apparently invented. other times it’s small things. watching tv. walking somewhere. talking about nothing important.
they always feel the same though.
like you’ve stepped into the middle of a life that already exists somewhere else.
you stop telling your friend about them after the third or fourth time because she just laughs and asks if dream-joe is a good boyfriend.
eventually you start treating it like one of those weird brain glitches that just happens sometimes. something you’ll probably forget about in a month.
and most days you don’t think about it at all.
until one afternoon.
it’s one of those rare warm days where the air actually feels nice instead of sticky or cold. you had nothing better to do, so you ended up wandering around central park with a coffee in your hand and your headphones in.
you’re not really paying attention to where you’re going. just walking.
then you turn a corner on the path and walk straight into someone.
your shoulder bumps theirs hard enough that your coffee almost spills.
“shit-sorry” you say automatically, already looking down to check if you got coffee on anything.
“no, it’s-”
you look up.
and immediately freeze.
it’s him.
for a second your brain refuses to process what you’re seeing. like it’s lagging behind reality.
joe keery is standing directly in front of you.
not dream-joe. actual joe keery. same messy hair, same slightly confused expression he always seems to have in interviews you’ve seen clips of.
you don’t say anything.
you just stare.
because suddenly all those dreams you convinced yourself meant nothing are rushing back into your head at once.
the couch. the grocery store. all the little conversations.
this should be one of those moments where you maybe recognise a celebrity and then move on with your day.
but your brain is short-circuiting instead.
and the weirdest part is that he’s staring at you too.
not like someone who just got recognised by a stranger.
more like someone who just saw something impossible.
his eyebrows pull together slightly and he leans back half an inch like he needs a better look at you.
you open your mouth, about to say something, honestly you don’t even know what, but he speaks first.
“you’re my dream girl.”
the words come out fast, like he didn’t think about them before saying them.
you blink.
“…what?”
there’s a pause.
his face changes instantly when he realises what that sounded like.
“no- wait, that’s not-” he rubs the back of his neck, already laughing a little at himself. “that sounded insane.”
you’re still just standing there, half frozen, half trying not to laugh.
“i didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly. “i mean- i did, but not in a weird way.”
that just makes it worse.
you let out a short laugh before you can stop yourself.
“okay,” you say, still trying to process what’s happening.
he exhales and gestures vaguely between the two of you.
“i’ve been having these dreams,” he says. “and you’re in them. like… a lot.”
you stare at him.
he’s watching you carefully now, like he’s waiting for you to confirm that he’s completely lost his mind.
for a second you consider just pretending you have no idea what he’s talking about.
that would probably be the normal response.
instead you hear yourself say, “me too.”
he blinks.
“what?”
“the dreams,” you say, gesturing awkwardly. “i’ve been having them too.”
there’s a long pause.
people walk past you on the path like nothing weird is happening at all.
joe looks at you for another few seconds, like he’s checking for any sign that you’re joking.
then he laughs quietly, shaking his head.
“okay” he says.
you nod slowly.
“okay.”
another pause.
“so,” he says after a moment, “what the fuck is happening.”
you laugh again, mostly because there’s no other reaction that makes sense.
“i was hoping you knew.”
he shakes his head.
“nope.”
you both just stand there for a second, two strangers in the middle of central park who apparently know each other from somewhere that doesn’t exist.
and somehow that’s the least weird part of the situation.
you end up sitting on one of the benches a little off the main path.
neither of you really suggests it out loud. the conversation just kind of drifts that way because standing there in the middle of the walkway while people keep passing feels strange.
joe sits down first, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, still looking at you like he’s trying to line up the version of you in his head with the one sitting next to him.
“okay,” he says after a second. “so this is gonna sound insane.”
“i think we’re past that already” you say.
he lets out a quiet laugh at that.
“fair.”
for a minute you both just start comparing things.
the grocery store dream.
when you mention it he immediately nods. “the chips,” he says. “i was reading the back of them.”
you stare at him.
“yeah.”
he runs a hand through his hair, looking both relieved and more confused somehow.
“okay that’s… good. i mean not good, but at least i didn’t invent that part.”
then the couch.
you describe the tv flickering in the dark room and the blanket and how he kept saying you were about to fall asleep.
he leans back against the bench slowly.
“you said you were resting your eyes,” he says.
you look at him.
“yeah.”
for a second neither of you says anything.
people keep walking past on the path. someone’s dog barks somewhere nearby. everything around you feels normal except for the conversation you’re having.
“this is so weird” you say eventually.
“yeah” he agrees.
you go through a few more small details. little things that shouldn’t line up as well as they do. places, random conversations, things one of you said that the other remembers.
none of it makes any sense.
joe laughs under his breath at one point and shakes his head.
“i literally thought my brain made you up. i even checked cast lists from movies i watched recently,” he adds. “i was convinced i’d seen your face somewhere and my brain just recycled it.”
“that’s actually kind of insulting.”
“hey,” he says, holding up a hand slightly. “in my defense it was the only explanation i had.”
you smile a little.
after a while the conversation slows down. not because you’re done talking, but because you’ve both kind of reached the same conclusion.
there isn’t an explanation.
at least not one either of you knows.
joe checks his phone then and exhales slightly.
“i actually have to go in a minute,” he says. “i’m supposed to meet someone.”
“yeah, that’s fine,” you say. “this was already… a lot.”
you both stand up from the bench.
for a second it’s awkward again. like neither of you really knows how to end this interaction because it’s not exactly a normal situation.
joe scratches the back of his neck.
“well,” he says. “see you tonight.”
your brain freezes for a split second.
“what?”
your voice comes out sharper than you meant it to.
he notices immediately and laughs.
“no no- i didn’t mean-” he gestures vaguely between the two of you. “i mean in the dreams. you know. if this whole thing keeps happening.”
you exhale and laugh too, mostly out of relief.
“right.”
“that came out really weird.”
“a little bit, yeah.”
you both stand there smiling awkwardly for another second.
then he turns like he’s about to walk away.
he makes it about three steps before stopping.
“wait,” he says, turning back toward you.
you look up.
“is it weird if i ask for your number?”
he shrugs slightly, like he’s aware how strange the whole situation already is.
“i just feel like it’d be even weirder if we both walked away and… never talked again.”
you think about that for maybe half a second.
“yeah,” you say. “that would be pretty weird.”
so you exchange phones.
he types his number into your phone, glances at the screen to make sure he didn’t mess it up, then looks back up at you as you type your number into his.
“okay,” he says.
“okay.”
this time when he walks away he actually leaves.
you watch him disappear down the path for a second before turning and heading in the opposite direction, your brain still trying to process everything that just happened.
-
later that night your phone buzzes.
unknown number.
you open the message.
joe: Hi. Just confirming you’re a real person and i didn’t imagine the entire afternoon.
you stare at it for a second, then smile.
you: pretty sure i’m real.
three dots appear almost immediately.
joe: Good. That would’ve been awkward.
over the next few days the texts keep coming.
at first it’s mostly about the dreams.
whether either of you had one the night before. what happened in it. if anything new showed up.
sometimes the dreams match. sometimes they’re slightly different versions of the same thing.
but the conversation slowly starts drifting into normal territory too.
what you do for work.
the dumb shows you both watch when you’re bored.
random things about your days.
it’s strange at first, texting someone you technically just met but somehow also feel like you’ve known for weeks.
but the more you talk, the less weird it feels.
and eventually the dreams aren’t the only reason you’re looking forward to seeing his name pop up on your phone.
-
slowly the conversations stop being about dreams at all.
he sends you pictures of random things he sees during the day. a dog that looked like it had human eyebrows. a coffee he swears was the worst thing he’s ever tasted. once he sends you a blurry picture of a movie poster and asks if you’ve seen it because he’s considering watching it out of boredom.
you send him things too. screenshots of stupid conversations, songs you think he’d like, pictures of the sky when it looks weirdly orange in the evening.
after a while you actually start meeting up sometimes.
the first time is casual. just coffee, because it feels like the easiest option. neither of you says anything about the dreams at first. you talk about normal stuff instead and realise pretty quickly that conversation with him is… easy.
easier than you expected.
he’s quieter in person than you imagined he’d be, but in a relaxed way. like he’s just comfortable letting things be quiet sometimes.
you end up sitting there for almost two hours without noticing.
after that you hang out again.
and again.
sometimes it’s just grabbing food somewhere. sometimes you end up walking around the city for no real reason. once you both end up sitting on the floor of his living room because he insists a movie is so bad it’s good and you need to see it.
it’s not really a big dramatic friendship moment. it just happens naturally.
you start realising little things too.
the two of you think about things in really similar ways. you both have the same habit of noticing small, random details in places. you both laugh at things that probably aren’t that funny to anyone else.
he teases you about certain things. you tease him back.
it feels… familiar.
sometimes a little too familiar.
every once in a while one of you brings up the dreams again, but they’ve become less frequent. you both notice that.
neither of you really questions it though.
until one night when you’re lying in bed and it hits you.
you like him.
not just in a he’s fun to hang out with way.
in the way where you catch yourself smiling when his name pops up on your phone. in the way where you start noticing the small things about him you didn’t think about before. the way he pushes his hair back when he’s concentrating on something. the way he laughs when he forgets what he was about to say halfway through a sentence.
you stare at the ceiling for a long time after that realization.
“oh,” you mutter quietly to yourself.
because suddenly a lot of things make sense.
and then something else hits you.
you haven’t had one of the dreams in days.
you frown slightly, trying to remember the last time it happened.
a week maybe. maybe longer.
it’s strange. for a while they were happening all the time.
now nothing.
at first you assume it’s just random.
but the longer you think about it, the more it feels like the dreams just… stopped.
like something finished.
like whatever weird thing connected the two of you had done its job already.
and now the rest is up to you.
you shake your head a little at the thought because it sounds ridiculous when you say it in your own head.
still, you can’t help thinking about it.
-
around the same time, joe is sitting on his couch staring at his phone.
your last message is still open on the screen.
you’d sent him a picture of a weird looking sandwich from some café and said is this gonna kill me?
he’s been smiling at it for longer than necessary.
after a second he leans back into the couch and exhales slowly.
because he realised something a little while ago too.
he likes you.
in the kind of way that makes him notice when a few hours pass without hearing from you.
in the kind of way where he catches himself thinking about what you’d say about something before he even texts you about it.
he figured it out maybe a week ago.
and around that same time, something else happened.
the dreams stopped.
completely.
the first couple nights he thought it was just a break.
but after a while it became obvious.
they were gone.
joe had thought about mentioning it to you once or twice, but every time the conversation drifted somewhere else before he did.
and now he’s not sure if he should bring it up at all.
because the timing feels strange.
almost like the dreams disappeared right when they weren’t necessary anymore.
he shakes his head slightly at the thought, smiling to himself.
“that’d be convenient,” he mutters.
his phone buzzes again.
another message from you.
and just like that the thought disappears, replaced by the small, familiar feeling he gets every time your name lights up the screen.
neither of you has said anything about liking the other yet.
but somehow it already feels like you’re both standing in the same place, just waiting for someone to take the next step.
-
a few more weeks pass before anything actually changes.
things between you and joe already feel like they’ve settled into a rhythm by then. texting every day. seeing each other a few times a week. sometimes you plan it, sometimes one of you just ends up near the other and it turns into hanging out without either of you meaning for it to.
most people looking in from the outside would probably assume you were already dating.
but neither of you has actually said it.
so technically you’re still just… friends.
one evening you’re walking with him after grabbing dinner somewhere small and crowded. the kind of place where the tables are too close together and the music is a little too loud but the food is good enough that no one cares.
you’re halfway down the sidewalk when he suddenly slows down.
you notice and glance over.
“what?”
he looks like he’s thinking too hard about something. his hands are shoved into his jacket pockets and he’s staring straight ahead instead of at you.
“can i ask you something” he says.
you raise an eyebrow slightly.
“you just did.”
he lets out a short breath of a laugh, but he still looks nervous in a way you haven’t really seen before.
“okay, yeah.”
you keep walking slowly beside him, waiting.
after a few seconds he glances at you.
“do you want to go on a date with me.”
you stop walking for a second.
not because you’re surprised exactly, if anything you’ve both been circling around this moment for a while, but hearing him actually say it makes something warm settle in your chest.
“i thought we’d been doing that already” you say.
he groans quietly.
“that’s the problem. i can’t tell if we’re just hanging out or if i’ve accidentally been dating you for the past month.”
you smile.
“so this is you officially asking.”
“this is me officially asking.”
you watch him for a second. he looks hopeful, but also slightly braced like you might laugh at him.
you don’t.
“yeah,” you say. “i’d like that.”
the relief on his face is immediate and a little funny.
“okay,” he says, nodding once like he just solved something complicated.
you bump your shoulder into his as you start walking again.
“that wasn’t so hard.”
“you have no idea how long i’ve been trying to figure out when to ask.”
“seriously?”
“seriously.”
you laugh.
-
dating him doesn’t feel like starting something new.
it feels more like something just… settled into place.
the first real date is simple. dinner somewhere quieter this time, then a long walk after because neither of you is ready to end the night yet.
at one point you’re both standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change when he reaches for your hand without really thinking.
your fingers lace together automatically.
you both pause for half a second when you realise it happened.
then you just keep standing there like it’s normal.
and somehow it is.
there’s still that strange familiarity sometimes. like certain moments feel oddly recognisable, even when you know they’ve never actually happened before.
but it’s different now.
because this version is real.
you start learning things about him that the dreams never showed you.
the way he gets really invested in random documentaries and then spends twenty minutes explaining facts you never asked for.
the way he absentmindedly taps rhythms on the table when music is playing somewhere nearby.
the way he always forgets where he left his phone and then accuses you of hiding it even though it’s usually right next to him.
he learns things about you too.
how you automatically steal food off his plate even when you ordered your own. how you stop mid-sentence sometimes because you get distracted by something completely unrelated.
the more time you spend together, the more you both start noticing small things.
little ways the two of you just… fit.
one night you’re at his apartment and he comes back into the living room from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee.
he pauses when he sees you.
you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch flipping through the streaming options, and without asking you’ve already put on a show he mentioned liking weeks ago.
“what?” you ask when you notice him standing there.
he walks over slowly and hands you the mug.
“nothing.”
“looked like something.”
he sits down beside you.
“i mentioned this show once.”
you shrug.
“yeah.”
“like three weeks ago.”
“and?”
he shakes his head a little, smiling.
“nothing. just… impressive memory.”
you take a sip of the coffee and make a face.
“did you forget the sugar again?”
he looks down at his own mug.
“…maybe.”
you reach over automatically, taking his cup and grabbing a sugar packet off the table dropping it in before he even moves.
he watches you stir it once and hand it back.
it’s such a small thing that you don’t even think about it.
but joe does.
because moments like that keep happening.
you remember things he says without him repeating them. you suggest movies he was already thinking about watching. you pick the exact takeout place he was craving without him mentioning it first.
and he starts doing the same for you without really realising it.
like the way he started keeping the exact snacks you like in his kitchen after you mentioned them once. you only noticed because one day you opened the cupboard and they were just… there.
or the way he’ll send you songs randomly with a message like this reminded me of something you’d like and somehow he’s almost always right.
once, when you show up at his apartment after a long day, he opens the door holding one of his sweaters.
“felt like you'd want this” he says, handing it to you casually.
you blink at him.
“how did you even know i was cold?”
he shrugs.
“lucky guess.”
another time you’re both out walking and you stop mid-sentence because you’re distracted watching a dog across the street doing something ridiculous.
you turn back around and joe is already holding his phone up.
“knew you’d want a picture” he says.
none of it is dramatic.
just small things.
but they keep happening.
and the more joe notices them, the more a quiet thought keeps forming in the back of his mind.
how did i get this lucky.
one evening you’re both sitting on the floor of his living room again, leaning against the couch while a movie plays that neither of you is really paying attention to.
you make a sarcastic comment about one of the lines in the movie and he laughs so suddenly he almost spills his drink.
“what?” you ask.
“nothing.” he shakes his head. “i just like this.”
“sitting on the floor?”
“no,” he says. “this. you.”
you pretend to consider it.
“yeah, guess you’re okay.”
he bumps his shoulder into yours.
“brutal.”
-
the longer you’re together, the more obvious it becomes to him that this feels different from anything he’s had before.
the ease of it. the way conversations don’t feel like work. the way being around you feels calm instead of complicated.
like the two of you somehow landed exactly where you were supposed to.
one night you’re both stretched out on his couch after a long day.
it’s late enough that the city outside the windows has quieted down a little. the lights from the buildings across the street glow faintly through the curtains.
you’re leaning against him, half curled into his side with a blanket pulled over both of you.
at some point during the show you’re watching your head slowly drops against his chest.
joe glances down.
“you falling asleep on me?”
you mumble something that definitely sounds like no.
he smiles.
a few minutes later your breathing evens out.
you’re completely asleep.
he shifts slightly so you’re more comfortable, letting your head rest properly against him.
for a while he just sits there quietly.
one hand resting lightly on your arm, the other absentmindedly tracing small patterns on the blanket.
he watches you for a moment.
then he thinks about the last few months.
and he realises something that makes him shake his head quietly to himself.
because somewhere along the way, without him noticing exactly when, everything started fitting together.
like somehow the universe had already lined the two of you up before either of you understood what was happening.
he looks down at you again, sleeping peacefully against him.
after a moment he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.
“my dream girl” he murmurs quietly.
this time the words feel different.
not confused. not surprised.
just… certain.
like he finally understands why those dreams existed at all.
you shift slightly in your sleep, a faint smile appearing on your face as you settle a little closer against him.
joe smiles to himself and leans back into the couch, letting the quiet settle around both of you while you drift further into sleep.
Joe keery fic that is like them dating but they both get super busy and it feels like they’re on the brink of a break up because the separation and their schedules never aligning. Maybe like an argument that separates them even more. But Joe goes home because he can’t bear being angry with her
DISTANCE
joe keery x reader
desc- when distance becomes a third member of your relationship and ultimately steers you apart.
val speaks - thanku for this request!! i loveeee an angst n i hope i wrote it how u wanted!
you used to measure time by him.
not in a dramatic way, not in the way people in movies say their whole world revolves around someone, but in the small, quiet ways that felt more real. mornings started with half-awake voice notes sent across time zones, his voice rough with sleep and affection. nights ended with facetime calls where neither of you said much, just existing together while he tuned a guitar or you finished whatever work you had left. even silence felt shared back then.
it wasn’t that things had changed all at once. nothing ever does. it happened slowly, gently enough that you almost didn’t notice at first.
his schedule got busier. yours did too. filming days stretched longer, interviews ran late, flights got delayed, and suddenly “i’ll call you tonight” turned into “i’ll text when i land,” which turned into a heart reaction on a message sent hours earlier. you told yourself it was normal. healthy, even. two people with full lives learning how to fit together instead of depending on each other completely.
but somewhere along the way, fitting together started to feel more like missing each other.
you still loved him. god, you loved him. and when you were actually in the same room, everything snapped back into place so easily it almost hurt. he’d pull you into a hug that felt familiar down to muscle memory, chin resting on your head like no time had passed at all. he’d smile at you the same way, soft, slightly crooked, like you were still the best part of his day.
only now, those moments felt rare. temporary. like borrowed time.
you noticed it most in the little things.
he used to remember everything. the exact way you took your coffee, the shows you mentioned wanting to watch, the tiny details you’d say in passing weeks earlier. he used to show up early just to see you for ten extra minutes, used to plan stupidly thoughtful surprises that made you laugh because who thinks of that stuff anymore?
now he forgot sometimes. not in a careless way, just… distracted. his mind always somewhere else, halfway between cities and scripts and soundchecks.
and you hated yourself for noticing.
because logically, you understood. his career was exploding. opportunities like this didn’t last forever. you were proud of him. so endlessly proud. you told everyone that. defended him when friends raised eyebrows at cancelled plans or unanswered messages.
“he’s just busy,” you’d say quickly. “it’s temporary.”
but late at night, when your phone screen stayed dark longer than it used to, temporary started to feel heavier than it should.
you caught yourself rereading old conversations sometimes. scrolling back months without meaning to. back when messages came in paragraphs instead of quick check-ins. back when he’d send photos of random things that reminded him of you, a dog on the street, a record in a shop window, a sunset he insisted looked exactly like the one from your first trip together.
you wondered if he noticed the difference too.
the thought scared you enough that you never asked.
because when you finally did see each other again after weeks apart, he still held you like you were home. he still kissed your forehead absentmindedly while talking about his day. he still looked at you with warmth that couldn’t possibly be fake.
and that was the confusing part.
nothing was wrong, exactly.
there were no fights. no betrayal. no moment you could point to and say, that’s when everything broke.
just distance. quiet, creeping distance.
one night, sitting alone on your couch with the tv playing something you weren’t really watching, you realized you couldn’t remember the last full conversation you’d had that didn’t revolve around schedules.
what time are you free.
when do you land.
how long are you there.
i miss you.
i miss you too.
you stared at the last message he’d sent, a quick “sorry, long day. call tomorrow?” - timestamped three hours ago.
you typed back, of course, adding a heart like always.
then you set your phone down and waited anyway, even though you knew he wouldn’t call tonight.
and for the first time, a thought slipped in that you immediately tried to push away:
he used to try so hard to be perfect for you.
now it felt like life didn’t leave him enough room to try at all.
you told yourself love was supposed to survive busy seasons. that real relationships weren’t constant grand gestures or endless attention.
still, as the room grew quieter and the glow from your phone faded, you couldn’t ignore the small ache settling in your chest, the feeling that you were both still holding onto something beautiful, but neither of you quite knew how to reach it anymore.
and somewhere, without either of you meaning for it to happen, loving each other had started to feel like missing each other.
-
the week was supposed to fix everything.
you both said that without actually saying it, in the relieved smiles over the phone when you realised your schedules finally overlapped, in the way he’d said, “a whole week. just us,” like he almost couldn’t believe it himself. you let yourself get excited in a careful way, the kind of hope you try not to hold too tightly in case it slips through your hands again.
you cleaned the apartment before he arrived, even the corners no one ever noticed. changed the sheets. bought his favorite snacks. you told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, but your chest felt lighter all day, anticipation humming under your skin.
when he finally walked through the door, travel-worn and smiling, everything felt easy again.
he dropped his bags and pulled you into him immediately, arms tight around your waist like he’d been holding that hug in for weeks. you laughed into his shoulder, breathing him in. familiar cologne, the faint smell of airport air and something undeniably him. for a moment, all the distance disappeared.
“i missed you,” he murmured.
and you believed it completely.
the first night was perfect in that effortless way only the two of you seemed to manage. takeout on the couch, talking over each other, falling into old rhythms without trying. he told stories about filming, you told him about everything he’d missed, and it felt like proof that nothing had actually changed, that you’d both just been busy, that was all.
but by the second day, his phone started buzzing more.
by the third, he mentioned the studio.
“just for a few hours,” he said casually, already pulling on a jacket. “they finally got time booked and i don’t wanna lose it.”
you nodded, smiling. of course. you understood. music mattered to him, you loved that about him.
a few hours turned into most of the day.
he came home late, apologetic but distracted, energy still buzzing from whatever he’d been working on. he talked quickly, excitedly, words spilling over each other while you nodded from the couch, trying to ignore the quiet disappointment sitting heavy in your stomach.
it was fine. it was just one day.
except it kept happening.
each morning started with, “i’ll be back early tonight,” and each night ended with you checking the time more than you wanted to admit. dinner plans got pushed later, then cancelled altogether. the groceries you bought stayed untouched in the fridge. you told yourself not to take it personally. this was who he was, passionate, driven, but the whole point of this week had been time together.
and somehow, you were alone more than when he was in another country.
the breaking point came on a thursday night.
it was past midnight when you heard the door unlock. you’d fallen asleep on the couch without meaning to, tv still glowing softly across the room. you stirred as he stepped inside, trying to be quiet, keys clinking softly.
“hey,” he said gently when he noticed you awake. “didn’t mean to wake you.”
you pushed yourself upright, blanket slipping from your shoulders. “what time is it?”
he glanced at his phone. “late. i lost track.”
of course you did, you almost said.
instead, you nodded, swallowing the tight feeling in your throat. “i made dinner earlier.”
his expression softened with guilt. “i’m sorry. we got really into something and-”
“yeah,” you interrupted quietly. “you’ve been really into something every night.”
the words hung in the air heavier than you intended.
he frowned slightly, setting his bag down. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
you hesitated, already wanting to take it back. you weren’t trying to start a fight. you just… felt full, like something inside you had been stacking up for days with nowhere to go.
“nothing,” you muttered.
he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “no, clearly it’s not nothing.”
silence stretched between you. the tv flickered quietly behind you, filling the space neither of you seemed to know how to cross.
finally, you said it. softer than you expected.
“i thought this week was for us.”
his shoulders stiffened. “it is.”
“is it?” your voice cracked slightly despite your effort to stay calm. “because you’ve barely been here, joe.”
he looked genuinely confused, frustration creeping into his expression. “i am here. i come home every night.”
“at midnight,” you said, the words slipping out sharper now. “when i’m already asleep. when we don’t actually spend any time together.”
he exhaled hard, pacing a step into the room. “you know how this works. opportunities don’t just wait around.”
“i know,” you said quickly, standing now too, emotion rising faster than you could control. “i always know. i always understand. that’s kind of the problem.”
he blinked at you. “what does that mean?”
it all spilled out before you could stop it.
“it means i keep making space for your life, but it feels like there’s never space for me in it anymore.”
the room went very still.
hurt flashed across his face, quickly replaced by defensiveness. “that’s not fair.”
“i’m not saying you don’t care,” you said, voice shaking now. “but you’re not here, even when you’re literally standing in the same apartment as me. you’re always somewhere else. filming, recording, planning the next thing, and i feel like i’m just waiting around hoping you’ll come back.”
he ran a hand through his hair, pacing again. “i’m doing this for our future too, you know. this isn’t just about me.”
“i'm not asking you to stop chasing your career,” you said, tears finally spilling despite your effort to hold them back. “i just wanted one week where i didn’t feel like i came second to everything else.”
he stopped moving then, staring at you like he didn’t know what to say.
and that hurt more than anything.
because once, he always knew exactly what to say.
the silence stretched, thick and unfamiliar, both of you standing on opposite sides of the room like strangers trying to figure out how you got there.
“i didn’t realise it was that bad,” he said finally, quieter now.
you laughed weakly, wiping your face. “that’s kind of the point. you don’t realise.”
neither of you spoke after that.
the argument didn’t explode the way fights do in movies, no slammed doors, no dramatic endings. just exhaustion settling in, heavy and unresolved, words lingering in the air long after they were said.
and as you turned away, hugging your arms around yourself, you realised something that scared you more than the fight itself.
for the first time, being in the same room didn’t make the distance disappear.
-
morning came too quickly.
neither of you had slept properly. you could feel it in the heaviness behind your eyes, in the quiet stiffness that filled the apartment. the argument from the night before hadn’t really ended, it had just… stopped. paused, like a conversation neither of you knew how to finish.
he was already awake when you walked into the kitchen, suitcase half-packed by the door. the sound of the zipper closing made something twist painfully in your chest.
usually, mornings after fights meant soft apologies. someone reaching first. coffee made silently as a peace offering. a hand brushing yours like a truce.
this morning felt careful instead. fragile.
“car’s coming soon,” he said, not quite looking at you as he folded a hoodie into his bag.
you nodded. “yeah. i know.”
silence settled again, thick and uncomfortable. you busied yourself pouring coffee you didn’t really want, watching the steam rise just so you wouldn’t have to look at him.
he sighed after a moment. “are we… okay?”
the question should’ve been simple. it used to be.
you hesitated too long.
“i don’t know,” you admitted quietly.
his shoulders dropped slightly, like he’d expected that answer but still hoped for something else. “i said i didn’t realise you felt that way. i’m trying here.”
and maybe he was. maybe you were too tired to see it properly. but the hurt from the night before still sat raw under your skin.
“trying now,” you said before you could stop yourself.
he frowned. “what?”
you set your mug down harder than intended. “it just feels like you only notice when i finally say something. like i have to break down for you to see me.”
frustration flashed across his face, exhaustion mixing with guilt. “that’s not fair. i can’t fix something if i don’t know it’s wrong.”
“i didn’t want to have to ask for attention,” you said softly, voice trembling again. “i didn’t think loving someone was supposed to feel like reminding them you exist.”
the words landed heavier than you meant them to.
he went quiet, jaw tightening slightly. you could tell he was hurt now too, defensive walls going up where softness usually lived.
“i never made you feel invisible on purpose,” he said, voice low.
“i know,” you replied quickly. “that’s what makes it worse.”
another silence. sharper this time.
his phone buzzed, the driver outside. reality intruding before either of you could fix anything.
he picked up his bag slowly, lingering like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how. you stood near the counter, arms folded around yourself, unsure how to bridge the distance that felt suddenly enormous.
normally, you walked him to the door. normally there were kisses, promises to call, a dozen i love you’s exchanged like protection against the time apart.
this time, everything felt uncertain.
“i’ll text when i land,” he said quietly.
you nodded. “okay.”
he hesitated, then stepped closer, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. it was familiar but it lacked the warmth it usually carried, both of you holding back without meaning to.
“i love you,” he said.
the words caught in your chest.
“i love you too.”
but it didn’t fix anything.
the door closed behind him with a soft click that echoed louder than it should have. you stood there for a long time afterward, staring at nothing, the apartment suddenly feeling too still.
you told yourself space might be good. maybe you both just needed to cool off.
so when he landed and sent a simple made it, you liked the message instead of replying.
you didn’t text the next morning either.
or the one after that.
at first it wasn’t intentional. you just didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t reopen the argument. every message you thought about sending felt either too normal or too emotional, and both felt wrong. so you waited.
and the longer you waited, the harder it became to reach out at all.
you assumed he was busy anyway. filming, meetings, studio sessions, the same cycle as always. you figured he probably hadn’t even noticed the silence yet.
but he did.
at first, joe told himself you were just giving each other space. that maybe this was healthier than forcing conversations while emotions were still raw. he reread your last exchange more times than he’d admit, convincing himself everything was fine.
except your absence felt loud.
no random texts sent at midnight. no updates about your day. no voice notes. no small check-ins that had quietly become part of his routine without him realising how much he relied on them despite sometimes being too busy to reply.
his phone felt strangely empty.
by the second day, he started typing messages and deleting them. how are you? felt too casual. are you still mad at me? felt too heavy.
by the third day, the quiet stopped feeling like space and started feeling like distance.
he noticed it everywhere. in the hotel room after long days when there was no one to call, in the moments he reached for his phone automatically to tell you something random and remembered you weren’t talking, in the way excitement about work felt strangely muted without you to share it with.
he kept thinking about your face that morning. the way you’d looked tired, hurt. the way you’d said you felt invisible.
and for the first time, the thought really settled in his chest.
what if you were pulling away because you were finally tired of waiting for him to show up?
the realisation hit harder than he expected.
because suddenly, none of it, the studio sessions, the schedules, the opportunities, felt as important as they had a week ago. success felt strangely hollow when the person he wanted to come home to might be slipping away from him.
he sat alone one night after filming wrapped, phone in his hands, staring at your contact like it might disappear if he looked away.
everything good in his life somehow traced back to you being there to witness it. every victory felt bigger because you were proud of him. every bad day easier because you steadied him without even trying.
and the idea of you being sad, or worse, believing you didn’t matter to him, made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t ignore anymore.
he realised, with a kind of terrifying clarity, that none of this meant anything if he lost you along the way.
because loving you had never been the difficult part.
the difficult part was realising he might have been slowly hurting the one person he never wanted to hurt at all.
-
the first message he sent was careful.
not too emotional. not too casual. just enough to test the space between you without pushing too hard.
hey. how’s your day been?
you saw it almost immediately. he knew you did, the read receipt appearing a few minutes later, but your reply didn’t come until nearly an hour after.
good. just busy today.
short. polite. nothing wrong with it technically.
but it didn’t sound like you.
joe stared at the message longer than he meant to, thumb hovering over the screen. normally you would’ve added something else, a random detail, a complaint about your day, a joke only he would understand. something that opened the door for conversation.
this felt like a closed one.
he told himself not to overthink it. you were busy. you had your own life, your own responsibilities. this was normal.
still, he replied quickly.
what’re you up to?
another gap. longer this time.
i’ve got a lot on this week.
no question back. no curiosity about his day.
he felt something small and uncomfortable settle in his chest.
over the next few days, conversations started again, technically. messages were exchanged. you answered him. sometimes even kindly. but everything felt… thinner. like talking to someone through glass.
he’d send a photo from set, something he knew would usually make you laugh.
you reacted with a heart.
he’d tell you something funny that happened during filming.
haha that’s good.
when he called one evening, it rang twice before going to voicemail. a minute later, a text appeared.
can’t talk rn sorry, i’m out.
he stared at the screen, confused. you used to step outside just to talk to him for five minutes. you used to whisper on late-night calls so you wouldn’t wake anyone up.
now conversations ended before they even started.
and slowly, painfully, he began to understand.
this was what it felt like.
waiting for replies. wondering if you were interrupting someone’s life instead of being part of it. rereading short messages trying to find warmth that wasn’t there. telling yourself not to take it personally while still feeling the sting anyway.
he caught himself checking his phone constantly, hoping for a message that never came first anymore.
you never texted first.
not once.
by the fourth day, it stopped feeling like coincidence.
he sat in his trailer between scenes, scrolling through your chat, noticing how one-sided it had quietly become. his messages stacked one after another, yours brief and distant in between.
he remembered you standing in the kitchen saying, i feel like i’m just waiting around hoping you’ll come back.
and suddenly he felt sick.
because this, this hollow, uncertain feeling, was exactly what you’d been trying to explain to him.
that night, he called again.
this time you answered, but there was background noise. voices, music, movement.
“hey,” you said, distracted.
he softened immediately at the sound of your voice. “hey… i just wanted to hear you.”
“yeah, i can’t talk long,” you said quickly. “i’m with friends.”
his stomach dropped a little. “oh. okay.”
a pause.
“everything okay?” he asked carefully.
“yeah, just busy,” you replied, the same words again. “i told you, this week’s kinda hectic.”
he nodded even though you couldn’t see him. “right.”
another silence, awkward and unfamiliar.
normally you filled silence easily. now it felt like neither of you knew what to reach for.
“i should go,” you said after a moment. “i’ll text you later.”
you didn’t.
he lay awake that night in his hotel room staring at the ceiling, the weight of it finally settling fully in his chest.
you weren’t being cruel. you weren’t yelling or accusing him. you were just… pulling back. matching the energy he hadn’t realized he’d been giving you for months.
and it hurt more than any argument ever could.
he kept imagining you feeling this way while he was distracted in studios, promising he’d be home soon, assuming everything was fine because you never complained loudly enough.
the thought of you sitting alone feeling unimportant because of him made his chest ache.
by morning, he couldn’t focus.
lines blurred together. conversations on set barely registered. his phone stayed in his hand between takes, hoping your name would light up the screen.
it didn’t.
during a break, he opened your chat again, rereading your short replies, the polite distance in every word.
he couldn’t stand this version of you, especially knowing he’d helped create it. he couldn’t stand the idea that you might actually be giving up on him piece by piece.
none of the work mattered if he came back to a relationship that felt empty.
none of it mattered if you were hurting.
before he could overthink it, he stood up, already grabbing his stuff.
his manager looked confused. “where are you going?”
“home,” joe said simply.
“you’ve got filming-”
“i know,” he interrupted, already pulling out his phone to change flights, heart racing with certainty. “i’ll make it work. i just… i need to fix something first.”
because suddenly the thought of you being mad at him, or worse, slowly learning how to live without needing him, felt unbearable.
and for the first time in months, work wasn’t the loudest thing in his life.
you were.
-
the apartment was quiet when he unlocked the door.
too quiet.
joe stepped inside slowly, suitcase still in his hand, half-expecting to hear you moving around somewhere, the sound of the tv, music playing softly, anything that meant you were there. but the space felt still, untouched, like it had been waiting longer than it should have.
“hello?” he called out anyway.
nothing.
his chest sank a little. he checked the kitchen, the bedroom, even the balcony like maybe you’d somehow be there anyway. your coat was gone. shoes missing from the hallway. the place felt emptier without you in a way he’d never really noticed before.
he exhaled, running a hand through his hair, nerves creeping in now that he was actually here. he’d flown home without a plan beyond fix it. beyond knowing he couldn’t keep letting distance grow between you.
his eyes landed on the small vase sitting empty on the counter, the one you kept even when there weren’t flowers in it.
before he could second-guess himself, he grabbed his keys again and headed back out.
the flower shop down the street was still open, warm light spilling onto the pavement. he stood there longer than he meant to, staring at arrangements that all felt too formal. you always teased him about romantic clichés, rolling your eyes whenever movies used grand gestures to fix things.
flowers are corny, you’d said once, laughing. but like… secretly cute.
he smiled faintly at the memory and picked a simple bouquet anyway, nothing extravagant, just soft colours he knew you liked. something hopeful.
something that might make you smile even if you pretended not to.
by the time he got back, nerves had fully settled in his stomach. he set the flowers carefully on the counter, pacing the apartment as minutes stretched longer than they should.
when the lock finally clicked, his heart jumped.
you stepped inside, mid-text, stopping short when you saw him standing there.
for a moment neither of you moved.
shock crossed your face first. “joe?”
he looked exhausted. travel-worn, nervous, eyes softer than you’d seen them in weeks. like he’d been carrying something heavy for a long time.
“hi,” he said quietly.
confusion flickered across your expression. “what are you doing here? aren’t you-”
“i came home,” he interrupted gently.
your gaze shifted to the suitcase by the door, then to the flowers on the counter. you let out a small, disbelieving breath. “you flew back?”
he nodded, suddenly unsure where to start. all the speeches he’d imagined on the plane tangled together in his head.
“I… yeah. i did.”
silence stretched between you, uncertain but not cold. just fragile.
you set your bag down slowly. “why?”
he laughed weakly, emotion already rising in his throat. “because i couldn’t stand it anymore.”
you frowned slightly. “couldn’t stand what?”
he took a step closer, hands shaking faintly as he tried to find the right words.
“you being distant,” he admitted. “you saying you were busy and brushing me off- i hated it. and then i realised… that’s exactly how i made you feel.”
your expression softened, but you didn’t speak.
he swallowed hard, voice cracking slightly. “i didn’t get it before. i thought everything was fine because you weren’t yelling or… or making a big deal out of it. but you were hurting and i just-” he shook his head, frustrated with himself. “i was so wrapped up in everything else that i didn’t see it.”
his eyes glistened now, honesty spilling out faster.
“and when you stopped reaching for me… it felt awful. everything felt pointless. like what’s the point of any of this if i’m coming back to a life where you’re not happy or you don’t feel loved?”
your chest tightened, watching him struggle through the words.
he gestured awkwardly toward the flowers. “i got those. i know you think they’re corny,” he added with a small, nervous smile, “but i was hoping they’d make you smile anyway.”
you huffed a quiet laugh despite yourself, eyes stinging.
that tiny reaction seemed to undo him completely.
he stepped closer, voice breaking now. “you’re everything to me. i can’t- i can’t do this without you. i’m so fucking sorry for being so shitty and not showing up the way i should’ve. you never asked for too much. you just wanted me, and i wasn’t really there.”
tears slipped down your cheeks before you realised you were crying.
he reached for your hands carefully, like he was afraid you might pull away.
“i don’t want a life where you feel second place,” he said softly. “none of this means anything if you’re sad because of me.”
his grip tightened slightly, desperate but gentle.
“come with me,” he said suddenly. “when i go back- stay with me. stay in my trailer, travel with me when you can. i want you there. i need you with me, not waiting somewhere else for me to catch up. we’ll figure it out together, but i don’t want distance to keep stealing time from us.”
you searched his face, seeing something different there. not just guilt, but clarity. effort. choice.
“joe…” your voice wavered.
“i mean it,” he whispered. “i’ll make the time. i’ll protect it. us. i just… i need you happy. i need you.”
the sincerity in his voice cracked the last of the hurt you’d been holding onto. you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him, and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for days, pulling you tightly against his chest.
he buried his face in your hair, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear again.
“i missed you,” you murmured.
“i missed you more,” he said immediately, voice thick. “and i’m not letting us drift like that again. i swear.”
you pulled back slightly, smiling through tears. “the flowers are still corny.”
he laughed softly, relief flooding his face. “yeah, i know.”
“but they worked.”
his smile widened. the real one, warm and familiar as he pressed his forehead against yours.
and for the first time in a long while, being together didn’t feel temporary or fragile.
it felt steady again.
like choosing each other wasn’t something you had to fight for alone anymore.
hii! could you maybe write something with joe keery and actress! reader? they are both in st and are already in a established relationship on and off screen, but in s5 reader's character dies in steve's arms and its really sad and emotional, so technically reader dies in joe's arms and he gets all disturbed by it bc it seems to real. if you want of course!
LONG TIME
joe keery x reader
(and kinda steve harrington x reader)
desc - joe didn't think your character dying in his arms would affect him in the way it did
val speaks - thanku for this req !! i hope u like what i did with it :))
the trailers outside the soundstage are louder than usual that morning. people moving cables, someone shouting for coffee, a golf cart buzzing past like it’s in a hurry to be somewhere important. last season energy, everyone can feel it.
you’re sitting on the steps outside your trailer with the script in your hands, even though you already know the pages basically by heart. the scene your character dies.
you flip the page again anyway.
“you’re gonna wear a hole through it.”
joe’s voice comes from behind you. he drops down beside you on the step with a quiet grunt, sunglasses pushed up in his hair and his usual half-asleep expression like he just rolled out of bed five minutes ago.
“i’m studying” you mumble.
“you’ve been ‘studying’ the same three pages for like a week.”
you shrug and swing your legs over his lap automatically. joe rests an arm across your shins like they belong there.
he glances down at the script in your hands.
“the big death.”
“stop calling it that.”
“what else am i supposed to call it?”
you nudge him lightly with your heel. “a dramatic moment.”
“a dramatic moment where you die in my arms.”
“thanks for the reminder.”
he grins a little at that but it fades quick. joe’s eyes drift back to the pages, quieter now.
“gonna be weird” he says.
“yeah.”
for a second neither of you say anything.
the set door opens and suddenly the calm is gone.
“there you two are,” gaten says, stepping out with sadie right behind him. “we’re doing emotional preparation or whatever apparently.”
sadie leans on the railing beside you. “ross just told me to drink water and cry when necessary.”
“method acting” gaten nods seriously.
joe snorts.
caleb and millie appear next, arguing about something on a phone screen, while finn trails behind them holding a coffee that looks way too big for him.
within a minute the steps are crowded. it feels like the early seasons again, everyone squeezed together between takes killing time.
except now everyone’s older. and today’s scene is sitting in the middle of all of it.
finn glances at the script in your hands. “that the scene?”
“unfortunately.”
he winces. “man.”
gaten points at joe. “you’re the one who has to cry the most.”
“thanks for that” joe mutters.
sadie tilts her head at you. “are you nervous?”
you think about it.
“not really,” you say. “i mean… it’s acting.”
joe shifts slightly under your legs but doesn’t say anything.
millie crouches down in front of you. “still weird though.”
“yeah,” caleb agrees. “like… your character’s been here since season one.”
“you guys are acting like i’m leaving you forever” you laugh.
gaten gestures dramatically. “you're leaving the show forever. your character dies.”
“thank you gaten, we got that part.”
everyone chuckles but it’s the kind of laugh that fades quickly.
joe finally speaks again.
“i just don’t wanna mess it up.”
everyone looks at him.
he shrugs like it’s not a big deal.
“it’s like… a big scene, you know? steve’s supposed to be losing it.”
finn smirks. “joe keery worried about acting?”
“shut up.”
“i’m serious though,” joe continues, looking at you now. “you good with it?”
“with dying?”
“yeah.”
you nod. “yeah. honestly i’m kinda excited.”
sadie raises an eyebrow.
“morbid.”
“no, i mean like… it’s a good scene,” you explain. “it was written well.”
you tap the script.
“it matters. it’s not just some random death.”
caleb nods slowly. “that’s true.”
gaten sighs dramatically. “still gonna suck watching you go.”
you stretch your arms over your head. “not gone yet.”
joe finally smiles again at that.
“true.”
a crew member pokes their head out the door.
“five minutes everyone.”
there’s a collective groan.
millie stands up and dusts off her jeans. “alright. time to emotionally destroy ourselves.”
“method acting” gaten repeats.
everyone slowly starts heading inside.
you slide your legs off joe’s lap and stand, brushing imaginary dust off your jeans.
joe lingers beside you as the others walk ahead.
the noise from inside the stage spills out now. lights warming up, crew moving equipment, someone testing a microphone.
he glances at the script in your hand again.
“you sure you’re not nervous?”
you shrug.
“ask me again after we film it.”
joe huffs a quiet laugh.
then he reaches over and gently taps the page where the scene starts.
“well” he says.
“guess i’ll see you on the floor when you’re dying.”
you roll your eyes.
“supportive.”
“i try.”
but as you both walk toward the stage doors, joe nudges your shoulder lightly with his.
and for a moment neither of you are really thinking about the scene.
because right now it still just feels like another day on set.
-
the scene
it's barely lit where you ended up.
just the weak beam of a flashlight lying sideways on the ground, flickering slightly every time something shifts in the distance. the air down there feels thick. damp. everything smells like metal and rot and the strange, dusty scent of the upside down.
for a moment there’s only silence.
then footsteps.
“this way” dustin’s voice echoes, breathless. “i swear this is where she went.”
flashlights swing across the walls as the group squeezes through the narrow space, steve first, then nancy, robin, dustin, lucas. everyone’s tense, weapons half raised, expecting something to jump out of the shadows.
steve turns the corner first.
and freezes.
for a second his brain doesn’t register what he’s seeing.
you’re on the ground.
your back is half against the wall like you tried to drag yourself there. one leg bent awkwardly under you. your shirt soaked dark with blood.
a demobat lies a few feet away, dead, its wings twisted where you must’ve finally managed to stab it.
but it got you first.
there’s blood everywhere.
“oh my god” robin whispers behind him.
that’s when steve moves.
“hey-hey-hey-”
his voice breaks before he even reaches you.
he drops to the floor so fast his knees slam against the concrete, sliding the last bit of distance until he’s right in front of you.
“no, no, no, no, no…”
his hands hover for a second, like he’s scared to touch you in case you disappear.
then he scoops you up anyway, pulling you carefully against him, one arm behind your back and the other cradling your head.
“hey-hey look at me,” he says urgently, voice shaking. “look at me.”
your eyes flutter open.
barely.
“steve…” your voice is so quiet it almost disappears.
nancy kneels down on your other side, one hand flying to her mouth. robin sinks to the floor beside her. dustin just stares, frozen.
no one says anything.
because they can all see it.
the wound.
you’re bleeding out.
steve presses a hand against your side like he can somehow stop it, like if he just holds it tight enough you won’t slip away.
“we’re getting you out,” he says quickly. “okay? we’re gonna get you out of here. we can make it back to the gate-”
you shift weakly and his words stumble.
your hand lifts slowly, trembling.
it takes you a second to find his.
when you do, you rest your fingers over his wrist.
so light.
“it’s okay” you whisper.
steve’s head snaps down.
“no,” he says immediately. “no, no, no don’t say that.”
your breathing is shallow now.
each inhale sounds thinner than the last.
around you the others have dropped to the floor too. lucas kneeling with his head bowed. robin wiping at her face. dustin staring at the ground, jaw tight.
nancy is already crying silently.
but steve-
steve is falling apart.
“you’re gonna be fine,” he says desperately, like if he says it enough it’ll become true. “okay? just stay with me. just stay awake. we’ll get you out, i swear.”
your fingers tighten weakly around his sleeve.
“listen to me.”
he shakes his head immediately.
“no.”
“steve.”
“no, you’re not- don’t-”
your voice is barely there now.
“i want you all… to get out.”
the group looks up.
you force the words out slowly, like each one costs something.
“get safe… and kill that son of a bitch.”
there’s a small, broken chuckle somewhere- dustin maybe.
lucas wipes his face with his sleeve.
robin lets out a shaky breath that almost turns into a laugh.
even nancy gives a tiny nod through her tears.
everyone except steve.
he’s staring at you like the world is collapsing in front of him.
“and… live happy lives” you continue quietly.
your gaze drifts weakly across the group.
“get the fuck out of hawkins.”
another soft, sad laugh moves through them.
but steve’s head just keeps shaking.
“no” he whispers.
your eyes find him again.
he looks completely wrecked.
“please,” he says, voice cracking. “please don’t do this.”
your hand lifts slightly again.
it takes everything you have left just to reach his face.
your fingers brush his cheek.
“steve…”
he leans into the touch instantly.
like a kid.
like he’s trying to hold onto it.
your voice is barely audible now.
“i love you.”
it’s so quiet only he really hears it.
for a second the world goes completely still.
and then your hand slips.
your fingers fall away from his cheek.
your body goes limp in his arms.
“no.”
steve freezes.
“no, no, no-”
he shakes you lightly.
“hey. hey.”
nothing.
“hey!”
his voice cracks completely now.
“hey wake up-come on-”
he pulls you closer, shaking harder now.
“no, no please-please-”
the sound that comes out of him next isn’t a word.
it’s a scream.
raw and broken and loud enough to echo through the entire crawl space.
he clutches you to his chest, sobbing so hard his shoulders shake.
“please-please-”
around him the others are crying too, but quieter.
steve is the only one completely shattered.
cut!
the word slices through the silence.
the lights come back up almost immediately.
crew members shift behind the cameras.
someone exhales.
but joe doesn’t move.
he’s still holding you exactly the same way.
still shaking.
for a second you stay still too, waiting for the reset.
then you hear it.
he’s still crying.
not the fake kind.
real ones.
you lift your head a little.
“joe?”
he sucks in a shaky breath like he forgot where he was.
his grip tightens around you suddenly and he pulls you upright into a hug, arms wrapping around you so fast it almost knocks you off balance.
“holy shit” he breathes.
you blink, surprised.
he presses his face into your shoulder, still trying to steady his breathing.
“you scared the hell out of me.”
you let out a small laugh.
“i'm fine baby”
“i know” he mutters, but his voice is still wrecked.
his hands are gripping the back of your shirt like he’s making sure you’re actually there.
around you the set has gone quieter.
maya wipes her eyes. gaten is still sitting on the floor staring at you both. natalia has one hand over her mouth.
someone from the crew whispers, “that was insane.”
after a moment joe finally pulls back a little.
his eyes are red.
he runs a hand through his hair, embarrassed.
“sorry” he says quietly.
you shake your head.
“for what?”
he huffs a weak laugh.
“forgot we were acting for a second.”
you smile softly.
“means you did it right.”
joe looks at you for a second longer.
then he pulls you into another quick hug.
“still” he mutters, “don’t do that to me again.”
-
your trailer is quiet when you finally get back.
the noise from set is muffled outside now. distant voices, equipment being moved, the occasional thud of something heavy hitting the floor. but in here it’s calmer. dimmer. just the soft hum of the little air unit in the corner.
joe has been following you around since that scene was shot, he immediately sits down on the small couch near where your standing like he doesn’t really want any space between you.
you notice it right away.
he’s not saying much. just watching you as you peel off the fake blood-soaked jacket the costume department gave you for the scene.
you toss it over the back of a chair.
when you turn around again he’s still looking at you.
quiet.
a little distant.
you walk over and sit beside him.
before you can even settle properly he leans closer, his arm automatically sliding around your waist like it belongs there. pulling you into his side.
you don’t mind it.
actually you kind of expected it after the scene.
you tilt your head slightly to look at him.
“hey.”
he hums softly but doesn’t look up yet.
your fingers come up and brush lightly through his hair, pushing it back from his face.
“baby,” you say gently. “what’s wrong?”
joe lets out a slow breath.
for a second he doesn’t answer.
he just stares down at the floor, thumb absently tracing small circles against your side like he’s trying to ground himself.
then he finally speaks.
“when we were filming that…”
his voice is quieter than usual.
“all i was seeing was… it actually being you.”
your hand slows in his hair.
he swallows a little.
“like… not the character. just you.”
he shakes his head once, like he’s trying to clear the image.
“kinda fucked with me.”
you shift a little closer without even thinking about it.
his arm tightens around you.
“i don’t think i could ever do that,” he continues softly. “for real.”
there’s a small pause.
his voice drops even more.
“can’t lose you.”
the words sit there between you.
you feel your chest tighten a little at the way he says it.
you give him a small, sad smile.
then you turn toward him fully and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a proper hug.
he goes immediately.
like he was waiting for it.
his face presses into the side of your neck and you feel his shoulders relax just a little as you hold him.
your hand rubs slow circles over his back.
“that’s not gonna happen” you murmur quietly.
he doesn’t answer but you feel him listening.
you lean your cheek lightly against his hair.
“you’re stuck with me.”
there’s a small pause.
then you feel it.
the tiniest smile against your shoulder.
his nose nudges softly into your neck as he lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh.
“yeah?” he mutters.
“yeah.”
your fingers slide into his hair again, gently combing through it.
“long time” you add.
he finally pulls back just enough to look at you.
his eyes are still a little red but they’re calmer now.
“good” he says simply.
you reach up and wipe a faint leftover line of fake blood from near his jaw that the scene must’ve transferred.
“you were really good today, you know.”
he shrugs a little.
“you dying made that pretty easy.”
you bump your forehead lightly against his.
he lets out a small laugh at that.
the quiet kind.
his hand comes up to rest against the back of your neck, thumb brushing absentmindedly along your skin.
you both sit there for a moment without saying anything.
just close.
comfortable.
then he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
“i love you” he murmurs.
you smile a little.
your hand slides over his cheek.
“i love you too.”
and this time when he pulls you back into a hug, it’s lighter.
growing up with Joe/childhood friends to lovers would be sooo cute 😭
CO - CAPTAIN
joe keery x reader
val speaks - ok when i tell u i took this prompt and ran like its 10k words i need to stop. anyways i had so so much fun writing this n i think its the longest fic ive ever done but i do not have the willpower to proofread it so if u see any mistakes my dearest apologies. i love you! thanku for requesting!
word count: 10k
the street you grew up on in boston was the kind where everyone knew everyone. the houses were close enough that in the summer you could hear people’s music through open windows and smell whatever someone’s mom was cooking three houses down. your house and joe’s were directly across from each other. two old colonials with creaky steps and big backyards that never quite grew grass evenly.
your parents met the week his family moved in.
your mom brought over a pie because that’s what people do, and his mom invited her inside, and within ten minutes there were kids running everywhere. joe had four sisters trailing behind him like a pack of birds, and you had your older brother who already looked annoyed that he’d been dragged into a social situation.
the parents had already decided how it would go. you’d hang out with the girls. joe would probably get along with your brother.
they were wrong almost immediately.
you and joe ended up standing next to each other in the driveway while everyone else talked. he was holding a hockey stick that was almost as tall as he was, tapping it nervously against the pavement.
“you wanna see my backyard?” he asked.
you shrugged. “sure.”
that was basically it.
after that you were attached in a way that made the adults laugh and shake their heads. every day after school one of you would cross the street without knocking. sometimes he’d show up at your back door, sometimes you’d wander into his kitchen like you lived there. it never mattered.
the two of you turned your backyards into entire worlds.
one week they were jungles, full of imaginary animals and secret missions. the next week they were deserts where you were explorers mapping out land no one had seen before. you dragged old chairs and planks of wood and blankets into piles that became forts or pirate ships or whatever the adventure needed that day.
you took it very seriously.
“captains don’t quit” joe would say, standing on top of a wobbly lawn chair like he was addressing a crew.
“you’re not the captain,” you’d argue. “i found the island first.”
he’d think about it for a second, then nod. “fine. co-captains.”
most nights ended the same way.
one of you would ask your parents if you could have a sleepover, and the parents would pretend to consider it even though they both knew the answer was yes. half the time someone ended up falling asleep on the couch anyway.
your brother mostly stayed out of it, and joe’s sisters eventually stopped trying to pull him into whatever they were doing because he was always already busy.
busy meant with you.
when you got older the adventures got smaller but they never really stopped.
by middle school the two of you had discovered 'the creek' which wasn’t actually a creek at all. it was a small pond on the edge of town with a crooked wooden dock that had been there longer than anyone could remember.
it became your place without either of you really deciding that.
almost every night, especially in the summer, you’d walk down there together. the path cut through a patch of trees and opened up to the water, quiet except for frogs and the occasional splash of something moving under the surface.
sometimes you talked the whole time.
sometimes you didn’t.
you’d sit on the edge of the dock with your feet in the water, kicking slowly and watching the ripples spread out.
one night when you were fourteen the air was warm and heavy and the sky still had a little pink left in it from the sunset. you and joe had been there long enough that the wood of the dock had cooled under your hands.
he leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the sky.
“i think i’m done with hockey” he said out of nowhere.
you turned your head. “really?”
he shrugged, like he’d been thinking about it for a while.
“yeah. it’s just… i don’t know. i don’t like it that much anymore.”
this was recent news. his whole life had been hockey practices and games and early mornings at the rink. but the last few months you and his sisters had dragged him to a couple school plays and drama club meetings, mostly as a joke at first.
joe had turned out to be weirdly good at it.
not just good, confident in a way you didn’t usually see.
“you like the drama stuff more” you said.
he nodded a little. “yeah.”
after a second he added, “don’t make fun of me.”
“i wasn’t going to.”
he looked over at you like he wasn’t completely convinced, but then he smiled anyway.
“i think i wanna try acting,” he said. “like actually try.”
you kicked your feet through the water again.
“you should,” you said. “you’re already dramatic.”
he snorted. “shut up.”
“i’m serious. you’re good at it.”
there was a quiet second where he just looked at the water.
“what about you?” he asked.
you didn’t even have to think about it.
“journalism.”
“like a reporter?”
“yeah.”
“why?”
you shrugged. “i like knowing stuff. and asking questions.”
he nodded like that made perfect sense.
the sky had gotten darker by then, the kind of deep blue that shows up right before the first stars.
after a while joe said, “promise something.”
“what?”
he sat up a little, turning toward you.
“promise we won’t stop being friends when we’re older.”
you rolled your eyes automatically. “why would we?”
“just promise.”
you watched the water for a second, then held your pinky out toward him.
“fine.”
he hooked his pinky around yours without hesitation.
“promise” he said.
and at fourteen, sitting on a crooked dock with your feet in the pond and the whole summer stretching ahead of you, it felt like the easiest promise in the world to keep.
-
high school didn’t change much between you and joe.
if anything, it just made it more obvious.
you were still glued together in the same way you’d always been. walking into school at the same time, leaving at the same time, sitting together whenever you could. people started noticing it more once everyone got older and suddenly everything had to mean something.
by sophomore year people had basically decided for you.
“so how long have you two been dating?” someone asked once, like it was the most normal question in the world.
you and joe looked at each other.
“we’re not” you both said at the same time.
they didn’t believe you.
that happened a lot.
at first you tried explaining it. childhood friends, neighbors, known-each-other-forever type of thing. but people always gave you the same look. the one that said yeah, sure.
eventually you both stopped bothering.
if someone asked, joe would just shrug.
“yeah” he’d say casually.
and you’d roll your eyes but not correct him.
it was easier that way.
high school meant parties now too. the loud, crowded kind where someone’s parents were always conveniently out of town. you’d show up together most of the time, walking through rooms full of people you barely knew, music shaking the walls.
but you never stayed inside for long.
after a while one of you would tilt your head toward the door and the other would already be halfway there.
outside was always quieter.
sometimes you’d end up walking back to your house, crossing the street like you had a thousand times before. a couple years earlier you’d both figured out the perfect way to climb from your bedroom window onto the roof. a loose bit of gutter and a ledge that made it just doable if you knew what you were doing.
it became the new spot.
you’d sit up there with your legs stretched out, looking over the street that had basically raised you both. the neighborhood looked different from up there. smaller, somehow.
sometimes you could hear a party down the block, muffled through the trees.
“we could go back” joe would say occasionally.
you’d glance over at him. “do you want to?”
he’d think for about half a second.
“no.”
so you’d stay.
the creek was still yours too, just not every night anymore. life had gotten busier. homework, practice, rehearsals, everything that comes with being seventeen and thinking every decision matters.
but you still ended up there when things got heavy.
breakups happened. bad ones sometimes.
joe dated a girl junior year who made him miserable by the end of it. you sat next to him on the dock while he complained about the whole thing, throwing little rocks into the water between sentences.
“she said i’m emotionally unavailable” he muttered.
you raised an eyebrow. “you cried during toy story 3.”
“that movie is devastating.”
you laughed, bumping your shoulder into his.
your own relationships didn’t go much smoother. one guy broke up with you over text during winter break and you showed up at joe’s house ten minutes later, still in pajamas, phone clutched in your hand.
he opened the door, took one look at your face, and stepped aside.
“come in.”
that was usually how it worked.
you helped each other through everything. bad relationships, family stuff, school stress, the weird pressure everyone started feeling about the future. the world kept getting bigger and more complicated, but somehow the two of you stayed the same.
he was the kind of person you could sit next to in complete silence without it feeling awkward.
one night senior year you were lying on the roof again, the air cool and the street below quiet except for the occasional car passing through.
joe had his hands folded behind his head, staring up at the sky like he used to on the dock.
“kinda weird we made it this far” he said.
you turned your head toward him. “what do you mean?”
“i don’t know. everyone kept saying high school changes people.”
“did it change you?”
he glanced over at you.
“not the important stuff.”
you smiled a little, looking back up at the stars.
joe nudged your foot lightly with his.
“still co-captains” he said.
and really, you were alway's going to be.
-
by senior year the question everyone kept asking was where you and joe were going to college.
people asked it like it was a joint decision.
for a while, it kind of was.
you spent a lot of afternoons sitting on your bedroom floor or at the kitchen table with laptops open, comparing schools like it was a group project. every time one of you liked a place the other would look it up too.
“this one has a good journalism program” you said once, turning your laptop toward him.
joe squinted at the screen. “yeah but chicago has a better theatre department.”
you both paused.
then you looked at each other.
“chicago?” you said.
he shrugged. “just saying.”
for a while it felt natural to plan it that way. like wherever one of you ended up, the other would just follow. you’d done everything else side by side your whole lives. it didn’t seem that weird.
until one night you were both sitting on your roof again, college websites open, and you both kind of realised it at the same time.
“this is stupid” joe said.
you looked over. “what?”
“we shouldn’t pick schools based on each other.”
you closed your laptop halfway, thinking about it.
he wasn’t wrong.
as much as the idea of ending up in the same place felt easy, it also felt small somehow. like squeezing both of your lives into the same box just because you were used to standing next to each other.
“yeah,” you said after a second. “it is.”
joe nudged your foot with his.
“we’re still gonna be friends.”
“obviously.”
“like… nothing’s changing.”
you nodded.
“nothing’s changing.”
and for the most part, that’s how you treated it.
applications went out. acceptance letters came back. you ended up choosing a school in new york with a journalism program you couldn’t stop talking about. joe the picked one in chicago where the theatre department had a reputation for being intense in the best way.
everyone around you acted like it was some big emotional thing.
you and joe mostly just shrugged.
“planes exist” he said once when someone asked if it would be hard.
“phones to,” you added.
but it hit a little differently the night before you both left.
of course you were at the creek.
the dock creaked under your weight the same way it always had as you sat side by side, your feet dipping into the water. it was late enough that the town was quiet, the air warm but with that hint of fall starting to creep in.
you’d both been talking about random things for a while. dorms, classes, whether or not you’d end up with weird roommates.
then things got quiet.
you glanced over at joe.
his elbows were resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared out at the water. the moonlight caught his face just enough that you noticed something off.
it took you a second to realise what it was.
there were tears in his eyes.
you hadn’t seen him cry much since middle school. maybe a handful of times at most.
you didn’t say anything.
instead you just leaned your head gently against his shoulder.
he didn’t move away.
for a while neither of you spoke.
then joe let out a quiet breath.
“i’m gonna miss you” he said.
your chest tightened a little, but you smiled anyway.
“i’m gonna miss you too.”
he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.
“i’m not gonna promise to call you every day,” he added. “because i’ll probably forget.”
you laughed softly against his shoulder.
“honest.”
“but that doesn’t mean i don’t love you anymore or that i've forgotten about you” he said quickly, like he needed to make that part clear.
you lifted your head just enough to look at him.
“joe,” you said, smiling. “i know.”
the next morning the two of you went to the airport together.
it felt strange walking through the building knowing you were both leaving, but not in the same direction. your parents were there, his family was there, everyone juggling luggage and last minute reminders.
your gate ended up being first.
you stood there with joe while they called for boarding, the line slowly forming behind you.
for a second neither of you moved.
then you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.
he hugged you back just as tight.
“text me when you land” he said into your shoulder.
“you too.”
“and let me know if your roommate is weird.”
you pulled back slightly. “same goes for you.”
he nodded.
it was weird.
standing there, letting go of him and turning toward the gate.
but it wasn’t the kind of weird that felt like losing something.
as you walked onto the plane, it mostly just felt like the start of a new adventure.
and you still had your co-captain
-
the first few months of college were chaos.
everything was busier than either of you expected. classes, new people, assignments piling up.
for a while it felt like you were both just trying to stay above water.
the first couple weeks you and joe texted constantly. random updates, pictures of dumb things you saw on campus, complaints about professors. but eventually the schedules got messy and the messages started spreading further apart.
it wasn’t intentional.
life just filled the space.
so you figured it out.
after a few trial-and-error phone calls and missed texts, the two of you realised you both had thursday afternoons free. no classes. no rehearsals for him. no late newsroom meetings for you.
it became a thing.
every thursday night one of you would call the other and you’d prop your phones up somewhere and watch a movie together. sometimes you actually paid attention to the movie. most of the time you just talked over it.
you’d catch each other up on everything that had happened that week.
joe would tell you about acting classes and weird theatre kids and how exhausted he was after rehearsals. you’d talk about your journalism courses and the ridiculous assignments professors thought were reasonable.
“you had to interview a stranger on the subway?” he said once, half laughing.
“three strangers,” you corrected. “one of them thought i was scamming him.”
he grinned through the phone screen. “you probably were.”
it was still weird sometimes.
there were moments where you’d see something and instinctively turn to tell him before remembering he wasn’t actually there. but the distance never felt like it was breaking anything. you both just adjusted.
years passed like that.
college moved fast. semesters blurring together, trips home for thanksgiving and christmas where everything felt oddly the same and completely different at the same time. sometimes your families even planned things together, like the summer vacation where both households rented a place on the cape.
everyone joked that nothing had changed.
in a lot of ways they were right.
by the time you were nearing the end of college, things started shifting in real ways.
joe had done small acting jobs before. little things here and there. minor roles, student projects, stuff that never quite felt like the big break everyone talks about.
you were always proud of him.
but one night during your usual thursday call he sounded different.
excited in a way you hadn’t heard before.
“wait,” you said, sitting up in your dorm bed. “slow down.”
he ran a hand through his hair on the screen, practically bouncing where he sat.
“okay so there’s this show,” he said. “it’s called stranger things.”
“that’s a good name.”
“right? and i just found out i got the role.”
you blinked. “joe.”
“yeah?”
“that’s huge.”
he laughed nervously.
“i’m playing this guy named steve harrington.”
you could practically see the energy coming off him through the phone.
“i start filming soon,” he said. “like… really soon.”
a couple nights before he had to leave, you flew out to see him.
his dorm looked like a tornado had passed through it. clothes half packed, boxes on the floor, random junk scattered everywhere.
“wow” you said from the doorway.
joe glanced around.
“yeah it’s bad.”
you spent most of the day helping him pack things up. folding clothes, stuffing notebooks into bags, trying to make sense of the mess he’d lived in for the past few years.
at one point he sat down on the floor, staring at the half-filled suitcase in front of him.
“i had to quit my waiting job today” he said.
you looked up from where you were taping a box shut.
“and?”
he rubbed the back of his neck.
“it was so awkward.”
you laughed.
“they were like ‘good luck with your acting thing’ in that voice where they clearly don’t think it’s real.”
you tossed a rolled up sock at him.
“well they’re wrong.”
he caught it and tossed it back.
“i know.”
there was a quiet moment after that.
“this is happening,” he said, almost to himself.
“yeah,” you said softly. “it is.”
things were moving for you too.
a few weeks earlier you’d landed an internship at a small media company in new york. it wasn’t glamorous mostly smaller assignments and write-ups about local events or people.
but it was real work. real bylines.
you’d told joe about it during one of your calls and he’d nearly knocked something over in excitement.
“see?” he said now, pointing at you from across the room. “we’re doing it.”
“we are.”
you both just looked at each other for a second, smiling like idiots.
because somehow you actually were.
when filming started, things got busier for joe.
the thursday calls didn’t happen as regularly anymore. sometimes you’d just get a quick text late at night or a short phone call when he had time between shoots.
but you could tell he was trying.
he’d send you random updates about the set, about the other actors, about the weird hours they kept while filming.
and when filming wrapped around christmas, you both ended up back home in boston at the same time.
the first night you went straight back to the creek.
nothing had changed there.
the same dock, the same quiet water.
joe was pacing a little as he talked, words spilling out faster than usual.
“i don’t know,” he said. “i just really hope this turns into something, you know?”
you watched him for a second before smiling.
“joe.”
“yeah?”
“it will.”
he stopped pacing.
“you really think so?”
you nudged his shoulder lightly as you walked past him to sit on the edge of the dock.
“i know so.”
and honestly, you were completely sure of it.
-
stranger things blew up in a way neither of you had really expected.
when the first season came out, it was suddenly everywhere. clips online, interviews popping up on your feed, people talking about it on the subway, in cafés, in your office. the first time you saw joe on a late-night show you actually had to pause the video halfway through because you were smiling so hard it felt ridiculous.
steve harrington.
your joe.
you’d always known he was good, but watching the world figure it out at the same time was something else entirely.
you texted him the night the show dropped.
holy shit, harrington.
he replied a few minutes later.
shut up.
but you could tell he was happy.
for a while things were still normal enough. you’d text sometimes, call occasionally when schedules lined up. he sounded busier, a little more tired, but still like himself.
then a few months later he mentioned he’d started seeing someone.
he said over the phone one night, sounding a little unsure of how to bring it up.
you smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.
“nice,” you said. “do you like her?”
“yeah,” he said quickly. “i do.”
“then i’m happy for you.”
and you meant it.
at first nothing really changed. but a few months into the relationship you started noticing the distance.
texts took longer to come back. calls happened less and less. sometimes you’d send something and get a reply hours later that felt rushed, like he was answering between other things.
you didn’t say anything about it.
partly because you didn’t want to make it weird. partly because you knew his life was moving fast right now. interviews, press stuff, the show exploding overnight.
and you were pretty sure he was getting ready to film season two soon.
it might not even be about you at all.
so you left it alone.
your own life in new york had started taking off too.
the internship turned into real work. real assignments, longer pieces, actual names attached to your articles. you’d started building something for yourself there, slowly, but steadily.
you had a small group of friends now too. people you’d met through work and through other friends, the kind of people who showed up at your apartment with cheap wine and stayed too late talking about everything and nothing.
there was even a guy for a little while.
nothing serious. just a few months of late dinners and wandering around the city at night. it ended easily, without much drama, and you stayed friendly after.
life was good. really good, actually.
just with a small, quiet space in it that used to belong to joe.
sometimes you’d notice it in the weirdest moments. when you saw something funny and instinctively went to text him before remembering you hadn’t talked properly in weeks. or when someone mentioned stranger things and you had to stop yourself from saying i know him.
you wondered sometimes if this was just… how it went.
people grow up. their lives get bigger. friendships that used to take up all the space start fading around the edges.
maybe the friendship that had carried you through your whole childhood had simply reached its natural ending.
even if part of you didn’t really want to believe that.
months passed like that.
you mostly kept up with joe the same way everyone else did. seeing clips of interviews online, the occasional headline, random photos that popped up on social media.
seeing him laugh on a talk show felt strange when you hadn’t heard his voice in weeks.
eventually christmas started creeping closer again.
on the flight home to boston you found yourself staring out the airplane window longer than usual.
you wondered if joe ever missed you.
it was easier for you to see him. he was everywhere online now. but he didn’t have that same window into your life. he couldn’t just open instagram and see your face everywhere.
and even if he could, would he look?
you shook the thought away.
when you got home your mom filled you in on the neighborhood updates over dinner, the usual stories about who moved away or whose kid had gotten engaged.
then she mentioned it casually.
“oh, and joe isn’t coming home for christmas this year.”
you glanced up.
“he’s not?”
“no, he’s staying with his girlfriend.”
you nodded slowly.
“oh. okay.”
and honestly, you were happy for him.
really.
if things were serious enough that he was spending christmas with her instead of flying home, that probably meant he was doing well. building a life somewhere else the same way you were.
that night, while you were sitting on your childhood bed scrolling through your phone, a message popped up.
joe.
merry christmas!
you stared at the screen for a second.
it wasn’t hey, i miss you or how have you been or anything like that.
just simple. just christmas.
but you typed back anyway.
merry christmas.
because maybe this was just what growing up looked like.
even if part of you continued to have that quiet space where your co-captain used to be
-
months turned into more than a year, then longer than that. somewhere along the way the silence between you and joe just settled into something normal.
you stopped expecting texts. stopped checking your phone for his name.
life filled itself in other places.
but every now and then you’d catch yourself thinking about how it used to be.
little things would bring it back. the smell of lake water in the summer, even stupid things like seeing a hockey stick leaning outside someone’s garage.
memories came back easily.
running through your backyards as kids. the roof of your house in high school. thursday night movies during college. the creek, always the creek.
and eventually you realised something that probably should’ve been obvious years ago.
you were in love with him.
not in any dramatic kind of way, it was quieter than that. more like noticing a piece of yourself that had always been there.
looking back at your life and realising how much of it had been built with him standing next to you.
part of you probably still was in love with him.
honestly, he’d been everything to you.
in a lot of ways he still was.
but that didn’t mean you were going to go chasing after him now.
his life had grown into something huge and busy and full of people you didn’t know anymore. and you weren’t about to force your way back into a place where you might not belong.
so you left it where it was.
what surprised you, though, was that you ended up getting closer with his sisters.
you’d always liked them growing up, but as kids you’d mostly been busy with joe. now that you were all adults, the dynamic shifted a little.
kate was the one you talked to the most.
when she texted you one afternoon saying she was moving to new york, you nearly dropped your phone.
seriously? you wrote back.
yeah, she replied. new job. terrified.
you smiled.
don’t worry. i’ll show you around.
and you did.
the first few weeks after she arrived you took her everywhere. small cafés you liked, parks she hadn’t seen yet, the bookstore you practically lived in on weekends. sometimes you’d just wander the city with no real plan, talking about everything from work to family to stupid stories from when you were all younger.
it was really nice. comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected.
one week your brother happened to be in the city too for a work trip. you all met up in central park one afternoon, grabbing coffee from a street cart before sitting on the grass together.
for a moment it felt strangely familiar.
you, your brother, one of joe’s sisters.
just missing the rest of the crew.
“this feels weird” your brother said at one point, glancing around.
kate laughed. “because not everyones here?”
“yeah.”
you shrugged a little.
“yeah. a little.”
but it still felt good.
like reconnecting with pieces of your childhood without having to dig too deeply into the parts that were missing.
that year you didn’t go home for christmas.
work offered you the chance to travel to france for a winter piece, something about documenting the slower pace of life in smaller towns and how it compared to the nonstop rush of big cities.
you said yes almost immediately.
and honestly, it was incredible.
snow-covered streets, long walks through old towns where everything felt slower and softer somehow. you spent weeks bouncing between different places, interviewing locals, writing late at night in small hotel rooms.
it was the kind of thing you’d dreamed about when you first decided you wanted to be a journalist.
one night you were alone in a random hotel somewhere in the countryside, half curled up on the bed with your laptop open, scrolling mindlessly before going to sleep.
a video clip popped up on your feed.
joe.
you almost scrolled past it automatically.
but something made you stop.
it was from an interview. joe sitting on a couch somewhere, laughing about something the host had said. the caption mentioned him talking about his childhood.
you clicked it.
“i loved growing up in boston,” he was saying. “i miss it sometimes.”
you smiled faintly. that part wasn’t surprising.
then he said your name.
you actually blinked at the screen.
“i had this best friend growing up,” joe continued, smiling a little. “we lived across the street from each other. we were basically attached at the hip.”
he talked about you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
about adventures in the backyard, about the creek, about growing up with his sisters and your brother around.
“it was the best time” he said.
something warm and bittersweet settled in your chest.
then the interviewer asked the obvious question.
“are you two still friends?”
joe hesitated.
just for a second.
“i guess… yeah,” he said eventually, rubbing the back of his neck a little. “i think we always will be.”
you let out a quiet breath.
right.
okay.
you ignored the part of your brain that wanted to point out the obvious. that he had stopped talking to you a long time ago.
instead you focused on the part that mattered.
that he remembered. that he still appreciated the years you’d spent side by side growing up. that somewhere in the middle of his very big life now, there was still a small place where those memories lived.
-
the next summer you ended up back home for a few weeks.
work had given you a break between projects, and for the first time in a while you didn’t have somewhere else you needed to be. so you flew back to boston and stepped into the same quiet street you’d grown up on.
it felt different.
not physically, the houses were the same, the sidewalks still cracked in the same places, the same trees hanging over the road. joe’s house was still sitting right across from yours like it always had.
but the feeling of it had shifted. like time had moved forward without asking anyone’s permission.
your parents had made a decision while you were gone, apparently.
they got a dog.
“you got a what?” you asked the first morning you were home.
your mom looked very pleased with herself.
“a dog.”
the dog in question was currently sprinting around the kitchen.
“we thought the house was too quiet” your dad added.
so naturally, the next morning you were given the task of walking it.
you clipped the leash on and stepped outside into the warm summer air, the dog pulling slightly ahead of you like it had somewhere important to be.
without really thinking about it, you started walking toward the creek.
partly because the dog needed the exercise.
mostly because you just wanted to go back there.
the path through the trees hadn’t changed at all. same dirt trail, same patches of sunlight breaking through the leaves.
when the water finally came into view you slowed down.
the dock was still there. crooked like always.
you walked out to the end of it and sat down, the wood creaking faintly under your weight. the dog circled once before flopping down next to you, satisfied.
for a while you just looked at the water.
it felt weird being there alone.
your mind wandered the way it always did there, drifting through memories you hadn’t thought about in years. late summer nights, your feet in the water, joe sitting beside you talking about some random thing that suddenly felt like the most important conversation in the world.
and then you thought about the promise.
fourteen years old, pinkies hooked together.
promise we won’t stop being friends when we’re older.
you smiled faintly to yourself.
after a moment you pulled your phone out of your pocket.
it felt a little ridiculous.
you hadn’t texted joe in… you weren’t even sure how long.
but sitting there on that dock made it feel less strange somehow.
so you typed something simple.
hey. this is kinda random but i’ve been seeing what you’ve been doing lately and i’m really proud of you. hope you’re doing okay. i’m back home for a bit and i’m sitting at the creek and it reminded me of you.
you stared at the message for a second.
then you hit send.
the dog shifted beside you, sighing softly.
you set your phone down next to you on the dock.
it felt good.
not because you expected a reply.
but because a part of you felt settled. like you’d closed a small door that had been left open for too long.
even if he never answered, he’d at least see it.
that was enough.
meanwhile, across the country in los angeles, joe wasn’t doing great.
the last few months had been rough.
he and his girlfriend had broken up. one of those long, messy endings where nothing dramatic happened but everything still fell apart anyway. interviews kept piling up, filming schedules were exhausting, and fame had started bringing a thousand little pressures he’d never really prepared for.
it felt like everything in his life was moving too fast.
he was halfway across his apartment when his phone buzzed.
he almost ignored it.
but when he glanced down and saw your name, he stopped walking entirely.
for a second he just stared at the screen.
your message sat there, simple and calm and completely unexpected.
…i’m really proud of you.
joe felt something twist sharply in his chest.
not because you’d said anything dramatic but because it suddenly hit him that this was the first time you two had spoken in… how long?
years?
how the hell did that happen?
he rubbed a hand over his face, pacing slowly now.
he’d meant to text you. so many times.
he’d thought about it while traveling, while sitting in trailers between scenes, while lying awake in hotel rooms after long days of filming.
i should text her.
i’ll do it tomorrow.
and then tomorrow turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and suddenly it felt too late.
now here you were.
texting him like nothing terrible had happened. just telling him you were proud of him and that you were sitting at the creek.
he could picture it perfectly.
joe leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at your message again.
…i’m really proud of you.
that sentence hit him harder than he expected.
he remembered the first time you’d said that.
you were both maybe seven years old. his little hockey team had won some junior game. nothing official, just a bunch of kids running around on the ice while parents cheered in the stands.
he’d walked out of the rink and there you were, waiting with your parents.
missing teeth. biggest smile he’d ever seen.
“i’m proud of you” you’d said like it was the most important announcement in the world.
later you’d teased him for months about the fact that you’d lost more teeth than him first. you used it constantly whenever you needed to win an argument. and somehow, even after all the premieres and interviews and applause and everything else that came with the last few years joe didn’t think anything had ever felt quite like hearing you say that.
he stared down at his phone again.
a heavy, guilty feeling settled in his chest.
because he had let it get to this. he’d let years pass without fixing it.
and he really fucking hated himself for that.
his thumb hovered over the screen.
for a second he wondered if he even deserved to text you back.
but of course he did anyway.
yeah i’m okay.
he sent it.
then immediately frowned at himself.
that wasn’t really the truth, and it definitely wasn’t how he talked to you. even after all this time it felt weird pretending things were fine when it was you on the other side of the conversation.
actually that’s kind of a lie.
he rubbed the back of his neck while he typed.
things have been a little stressful lately. but i’m alright. mostly.
and i’m really sorry it’s been so long.
he stared at the screen after sending that one.
hope you’re still killing it over in new york.
back at the creek your phone buzzed and you blinked down at it, a little surprised he’d actually replied.
you read the messages slowly, then typed back.
the conversation wasn’t long. just a handful of texts back and forth at first. the kind of awkward catching up that happens when two people haven’t talked in a long time but also know each other too well for it to feel completely strange.
you told him work was going well. he told you filming had been chaotic. you asked how la was treating him.
at one point you mentioned kate.
because she moved to new york a while ago, you typed. we’ve been hanging out a lot. i promised i’d show her around.
on the other side of the country joe leaned back against his counter, reading that line twice.
a weird little twist of jealousy hit him in the chest before he could stop it.
which was stupid.
he had absolutely no reason to feel that way.
but the image of you wandering around new york together made him wish he was the one there instead. wish he was the one seeing you all the time.
that’s good, he typed back.
you eventually stood up from the dock, clipping the leash back onto the dog.
anyway, you wrote, i should probably head back before this dog drags me home herself.
but it was good hearing from you.
he stared at that message for a second before replying.
yeah. it was.
you slipped your phone back into your pocket and started walking home through the trees, the dog trotting ahead of you happily.
even if that ended up being the last time you and joe ever spoke properly, it felt like something had settled into place. like the story had a little more clarity now.
that night, though, your phone rang.
you squinted at the screen from your bed.
joe calling.
for a second you considered letting it go to voicemail out of pure shock.
then you answered.
“hello?”
“hey.”
his voice sounded almost exactly the same.
maybe a little older. a little more tired. but still joe.
and somehow the conversation slipped into place almost instantly, like the last few years had been nothing more than a long pause.
joe started rambling within the first two minutes. something about filming schedules and a ridiculous story about a co-star forgetting their lines in the middle of a scene. you laughed, leaning back against your pillows while the house around you stayed quiet.
then you told him about france.
the small towns. the interviews. the weird hotel rooms.
“that’s incredible” he said.
and you could hear it in his voice, he meant it.
genuinely.
toward the end of the call it was well past midnight for you. the room was dark except for the faint light coming through the window, while joe was sitting somewhere in the middle of a sunny la afternoon.
he went quiet for a second.
“you know what’s weird?” he said.
“what?”
“this feels exactly the same.”
you smiled a little into the phone.
because it did.
even after everything it was still easy. still comfortable in that strange way that only existed between the two of you.
joe leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand through his hair.
he’d spent years thinking he’d somehow lost his best friend.
and now after one conversation he could feel it again, like it had never really gone anywhere.
“i’m gonna text you more,” he said suddenly. “like actually this time.”
you hummed softly in response.
“okay.”
but the way you said it sounded careful. like you weren’t sure you believed him.
and honestly, that stung a little.
but what else could he expect?
you hung up not long after that.
and for a while, you both meant it. but life slipped in again.
when you were back in new york, things got busy. work piled up, his filming schedules shifted, time zones still made things harder than they should’ve been.
weeks passed. then more. and you didn’t really talk again.
until months later.
you weren’t even thinking about joe that morning.
you were just in the grocery store near your apartment, pushing a cart slowly down the aisle while half-reading a list on your phone.
you turned the corner at the end of the aisle.
and walked straight into someone.
“oh- sorry” you started automatically.
the other person froze.
you looked up.
joe looked like he’d just seen a ghost.
but not in a bad way, more like shock mixed with something softer.
“oh my god” he said.
before you could even react, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.
you laughed in surprise but hugged him back automatically, your arms wrapping around him like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“what the hell?” you said into his shoulder.
he pulled back slightly, still grinning in disbelief.
“what are you doing here?”
you blinked at him.
“…i live here.”
“right,” he said quickly, running a hand through his hair. “right, yeah. that makes sense.”
you grabbed the cart again, still laughing a little.
joe immediately fell into step beside you and then followed you around the store like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“i’m here for a conference thing,” he said as you grabbed something off a shelf. “like interviews and panels and all that.”
“fun.”
“not really.”
you smiled faintly.
as you reached the checkout area he shifted awkwardly for a second before speaking again.
“i’m in town for the week” he said.
you glanced up at him.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
he hesitated.
“we should… meet up or something.”
-
you did end up meeting up.
a couple nights later you were sitting across from joe at a small restaurant you liked a few blocks from your apartment.
joe kept glancing around like he was taking everything in.
“this place is nice” he said.
“i come here a lot,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. “the pasta’s good.”
“good to know.”
for a while the conversation stayed light. catching up properly this time instead of in rushed texts or late night phone calls.
at one point joe leaned back in his chair a little.
“i actually got into music recently” he said.
you raised an eyebrow. “like listening to it?”
“no, like… making it.”
“of course you did,” you laughed. “you can’t just pick one job like a normal person?”
he grinned.
“apparently not.”
you tapped your fork lightly against your plate.
“i actually did a piece a while ago about music in the city,” you said. “small venues, street performers, that kind of thing.”
“really?”
“yeah. it was one of my favourite things i’ve worked on.”
joe nodded thoughtfully.
“that sounds like something you’d like.”
as the night went on the restaurant slowly got quieter. tables emptied, the noise dropped until it was mostly just low conversations and the clink of dishes from the kitchen.
joe had been fiddling with his glass for a minute before he finally spoke again.
“can i ask you something?”
“sure.”
he hesitated slightly.
“do you blame me?”
you looked up at him.
“for why we stopped talking.”
you didn’t answer immediately.
not because you didn’t know the answer. just because you wanted to say it honestly.
“partially,” you said after a moment.
joe nodded slowly, like he’d expected that.
“but i was never mad,” you added. “i kinda just… expected it.”
his brow furrowed slightly.
“expected it?”
“yeah.”
you shrugged lightly.
“you moved on with your life. things got big and busy and complicated. that happens.”
you leaned back a little in your chair.
“so i just decided to be happy with the childhood we had.”
joe looked down at the table for a second.
“and it’s not like i was trying that hard to stay close either,” you continued. “i let myself drift the moment you did.”
he let out a quiet breath.
“yeah,” he said. “that’s… fair.”
after a moment he looked back up at you.
“i’m still really sorry though.”
you smiled faintly.
“i know.”
“i never wanted you to feel like you were something i could just let go of,” he said. “even if that’s kind of what happened.”
you both sat there quietly for a second.
“i just got caught up in everything” he added.
you raised an eyebrow.
“that’s kind of a shitty excuse.”
he snorted.
“yeah. it really is.”
you both laughed.
after a minute joe leaned forward again slightly.
“hey.”
“yeah?”
“will you come home for christmas this year?”
you blinked at him.
“that’s months away.”
“i know.”
“why are you asking now?”
he shrugged.
“just… try.”
you narrowed your eyes at him.
“you’re gonna blow me off again.”
joe scoffed immediately.
“i am not.”
you tilted your head skeptically.
he shook his head, smiling a little.
“just try.”
somehow, months later, it actually happened.
you were home for christmas.
so was your brother. and joe. and all four of his sisters.
it had been years since everyone had been in the same place at the same time, but somehow it worked out that year.
which is how all of you ended up outside in joe’s family backyard, sitting in the old deck chairs that had been there forever.
it was literally snowing.
everyone was wrapped up in blankets and jackets, breath visible in the cold air.
“this is stupid” one of his sisters complained.
“it’s tradition” someone else argued.
and they were right.
every time the whole group was together growing up, you ended up out here eventually. it didn’t matter if it was summer or winter, the backyard had always been the meeting spot.
so now, even with snow dusting the ground and freezing air biting at your noses, you were all sitting there laughing and talking like it was the most normal thing in the world.
your brother was telling some ridiculous story from work. kate was arguing with one of the other sisters. someone passed around mugs of hot chocolate.
joe sat a little quieter than usual.
not because he wasn’t enjoying it. but because he was looking around. really looking. at his sisters. at your brother. at you. at all the people who had been there since the very beginning.
it hit him suddenly how rare something like this actually was.
how rare it was for a group of people to grow up together and somehow still find their way back to the same place years later.
and you. you were the rarest part of it.
joe leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you laugh at something kate had just said.
and for the first time in a long time, he thought about how much he loved you.
-
that night joe couldn’t sleep.
the house was quiet in the way it only gets late at night during winter. the heat humming softly through the vents, the occasional creak of old wood settling in the cold. everyone else had gone to bed hours ago.
but joe was wide awake.
he was lying there staring at the ceiling, thinking about you.
really thinking about you.
about the first time he realised he was in love with you.
he could trace it back pretty clearly now. high school. someone had made another one of those comments. the ones people had been making for years.
are you two dating or what?
normally he’d roll his eyes. normally you’d both deny it automatically and move on.
but that time he didn’t. he’d just shrugged.
“yeah.”
he remembered glancing over at you right after he said it. waiting. half expecting you to make a face or shove his shoulder or laugh and immediately correct the person.
but you hadn’t.
you’d just rolled your eyes and kept walking.
and for some reason that had made something flutter weirdly in his chest.
he hadn’t done anything about it though.
not then. not later.
he dated other people. had real relationships even. girls he genuinely liked, even loved in different ways.
he never said anything to you.
not when you graduated high school together. not when you hugged goodbye before leaving for college. not when he first flew out to start filming stranger things.
never.
the closest he’d come to losing you completely was when you stopped talking those years later. when life got loud and messy and he let distance do what distance does. and even when he met his most recent girlfriend, someone he really did care about, loving her never really erased you.
it just dimmed that part of his brain for a while.
like turning the lights off in a room.
but the room was still there.
so now he was lying there staring at the ceiling wondering one thing.
at what point was enough enough?
he’d already lost you once. he only kind of had you back now. so when was it going to be too late to say anything?
if it wasn’t already.
because honestly, it probably was.
that thought made his chest tighten.
so he did something impulsive.
he grabbed his phone and texted you.
are you awake?
a minute later your reply came through.
yeah.
he sat up immediately.
wrap up and meet me outside.
you didn’t ask why.
you never really did when it came to him.
ten minutes later you stepped outside your house bundled in a coat and scarf, the cold biting instantly at your cheeks.
joe was already waiting across the street.
“hi” you said, breath fogging in the air.
“hi.”
“what’s wrong?”
“nothing.”
you raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it.
“okay.”
you started walking.
neither of you said where you were going.
you both already knew.
the path to the creek was icy in patches, the trees bare and quiet under the pale winter moon.
you walked mostly in silence until your foot hit a slick patch of ice and you almost went down.
“shit-”
you yelped, flailing slightly before catching yourself.
joe grabbed your arm instinctively.
“you good?”
“yeah,” you laughed breathlessly. “almost died but it’s fine.”
“dramatic.”
“shut up.”
when the pond finally came into view it looked completely different from the last time.
the water was frozen over, a smooth sheet of pale ice stretching across the surface. the dock was still there though. you both walked out to the end and sat down like you had a thousand times before. for a moment you just looked out at the frozen lake.
then you turned your head slightly toward him.
“so,” you said. “what’s wrong?”
joe smiled faintly.
“nothing.”
you studied him for a second.
then, surprisingly, you seemed okay with that answer.
you leaned back on your hands and looked up at the sky instead.
the stars were sharp in the cold air.
joe watched you quietly.
and he had a sudden, overwhelming thought.
you were always beautiful. he’d known that forever. but moments like this, under moonlight, felt different. like they belonged to him somehow.
selfish. but true.
before he could talk himself out of it, he reached over and took your hand.
you turned your head immediately, surprised.
joe was already looking at you.
“you know,” he said quietly, “i was thinking.”
“that’s dangerous.”
he huffed a small laugh.
“i think i finally know the moment i fell in love with you.”
you froze slightly.
completely caught off guard. for once you didn’t have anything to say.
joe looked back out at the frozen lake.
“i think it was when we decided to be co-captains” he said.
you blinked.
“i didn’t realise it then obviously. not until high school actually”
“what?” you said softly.
he just shrugged again and looked away.
“i just… wanted you to know.”
the two of you sat there quietly for a moment. the words settling into the cold air between you. then you spoke. very calmly.
“when you gave me your ice cream.”
joe turned his head back toward you.
“…huh?”
you smiled faintly.
“that’s when i did.”
“did what?”
“fell in love with you.”
he blinked.
you laughed softly.
“i dropped my ice cream and started crying,” you explained. “and you gave me yours. it was already half eaten.”
the memory came rushing back immediately.
joe stared at you, a soft, almost stunned expression spreading across his face.
for a second neither of you spoke.
then he said quietly,
“i’m sorry i let you down.”
the words hung there for a moment.
you didn’t argue. didn’t tell him he hadn’t. you just shifted closer and rested your head against his shoulder.
and the two of you sat there on the old dock, looking out over the frozen creek, like you had your whole lives.
you stayed there for a while after that.
neither of you really said anything. you were both just sitting there, your head still resting against joe’s shoulder, his hand loosely holding yours while the cold air settled around you.
then suddenly something streaked across the sky.
“oh-” you sat up quickly. “look!”
a shooting star.
you immediately closed your eyes, hands clasped together like you had when you were a kid.
joe rolled his eyes.
“you’re unbelievable” he muttered.
but a second later he sighed and closed his eyes too.
you peeked at him.
“did you make a wish?”
he opened one eye.
“maybe.”
you grinned.
after another few minutes you both finally admitted defeat.
“i think my toes are about to fall off” you said.
“yeah,” joe agreed, standing up and offering you his hand. “we should go before we actually get frostbite.”
the walk back was quiet. the confession hung in the air between you, but neither of you felt the need to dissect it right away. it was just there now, something real that had finally been said out loud.
when you reached the street between your houses you slowed to a stop.
“well” you said softly.
“yeah.”
before you could say anything else, joe stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.
it was warm despite the cold air, familiar in the way only he could be. your arms wrapped around him automatically.
after a moment he pulled back slightly.
his hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks.
he was smiling at you.
you smiled back.
you both leaned in slowly, almost carefully. and then you kissed.
it felt like everything at once.
years of history wrapped into one small moment.
when you pulled apart you both just stood there for a second, smiling a little like you couldn’t quite believe it.
“goodnight” you said quietly.
“goodnight.”
and that was it.
you both went inside and went to bed like nothing dramatic had happened. but something had definitely changed.
-
when it was time for you to fly back to new york, joe flew with you.
“i have some time before i need to go back to la” he’d said casually.
you didn’t question it too much.
new york was loud and bright as always when you got back. the city buzzing with that end-of-year energy as everyone prepared for new year’s.
your friends were thrilled when you told them joe was visiting.
they’d heard about him for years, the childhood best friend who showed up in half your stories.
“so this is joe” one of them said when you introduced him.
joe laughed.
“feel like i’m being evaluated.”
“you are” your friend replied.
but they liked him almost immediately.
that night you all ended up packed together in someone’s apartment, music playing, drinks in hand, the windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside.
joe stayed close to you most of the night. not in a clingy way, just near. like he’d always been.
when midnight finally came everyone crowded around the window watching the fireworks burst over the city.
people were shouting the countdown.
“three!”
“two!”
“one!”
cheers erupted around the room.
and before you could even think about it joe leaned down and kissed you again.
this time it felt different. this felt like a beginning. something new unfolding between you. something that hadn’t existed before. and that’s exactly what it was.
-
life didn’t suddenly become perfect after that.
joe still got busy. filming schedules were still chaotic, interviews still happened, life still moved quickly.
but this time he did something differently.
he made sure the things that actually mattered stayed at the top of his list.
you.
you still made him grovel a little, obviously. you reminded him often that he had a lot of years to make up for.
he never complained about it. if anything, he seemed more than happy to earn his way back.
you met the rest of the stranger things cast eventually, long dinners where everyone talked over each other and joe looked weirdly proud every time someone made you laugh.
you met his new friends in la. he met more of yours in new york.
slowly, the two of you settled into something comfortable again. like finding your way back to a place you’d known your whole life.
until one evening, months later, joe finally said it.
you were walking through central park when he suddenly stopped.
“hey.”
“yeah?”
he rubbed the back of his neck a little.
“do you want to go out with me? officially?”
you blinked at him.
“joe.”
“i know,” he said quickly. “extremely overdue.”
you laughed.
“extremely.”
he smiled sheepishly.
“i swear i’ll make it worth it.”
you studied him for a second before nodding.
“okay.”
because of course you would.
honestly, you were kind of glad to finally have joe earning his way back into your life properly.
and joe had never been happier to have his co-captain back.
She's making a vlog reviewing stuff that was sent to her but joe appears in the video and just hugs her from behind because he was feeling lonely and stays clingy to her for the rest of the video which she doesn't react to since shes used to it so he just watches her review stuff and gives his opinions on items that she shows!
PR
joe keery x reader
influencer / youtuber au !
desc - opening pr with a clingy joe n using him to your advantage
val speaks - ugh i rlly luv this au. thanku for requesting! ily ily hope u enjoy
“okay, wait” you say, adjusting the camera slightly so it catches less of the ceiling and more of you. “that’s better. hi.”
you’re standing at the kitchen counter, box in front of you, scissors in hand. the afternoon light is soft enough that you don’t need your ring light, which feels like a win.
“so this brand sent over their new line and i’ve been trying not to open it without you guys.”
you cut through the tape and fold the flaps back, peeking inside.
“oh. okay. this is cute.”
you pull out the tissue paper, talk briefly about the packaging, the branding, the fact that you appreciate when brands don’t make everything neon for no reason.
“first thing is a serum” you say, holding up the bottle. “this is supposed to help with texture.”
you unscrew the dropper, lifting it to your nose-
and you feel him before you hear him.
arms slide around your waist, slow and unhurried, like he’s done it a thousand times. his chest presses lightly against your back, warm through your shirt. his chin settles on your shoulder without a word.
you don’t jump. don’t react beyond the smallest shift to balance both of you.
you just keep going.
“it smells really clean” you say, glancing at the screen to make sure you’re still in frame. “not too fragranced. just… fresh.”
behind you, he inhales quietly near your temple, dramatic on purpose.
your lips twitch but you keep your tone steady. “thank you for that input.”
he doesn’t answer. his hands rest loosely at your stomach, fingers laced together. he’s just watching, eyes on what you’re holding, like he’s genuinely invested in whether or not this serum absorbs properly.
you dab some onto the back of your hand.
“okay, wait. that actually feels really nice,” you say. “it’s thin. not sticky.”
his chin shifts slightly as he tries to see better. you tilt your hand up a little without thinking so he can.
“see that?” you ask the camera, then, “you see that?” softer, meant for him.
he hums in agreement against your shoulder.
you reach back into the box.
“they sent the moisturiser too. which i’m picky about, so we’ll see.”
his thumbs start moving absentmindedly against your waist while you open the jar. small circles, barely noticeable. you keep talking about ingredients, about how your skin’s been weird lately, about how you don’t trust anything that claims to fix everything overnight.
he presses a quick kiss into your hair. you continue your sentence without missing a beat.
you scoop a little out and smooth it over your hand.
“oh. that’s good too.”
you hold your hand up closer to the camera, and he leans with you automatically so he stays tucked behind you. on the screen, he’s just there, quiet, chin on your shoulder like it belongs there.
“you’re very clingy today” you say under your breath, still smiling at the lens.
“m' not” he murmurs.
“you’re attached to me”
“you’re warm.”
you shake your head slightly, but you’re smiling.
you keep going through the box, not overexplaining, just giving your honest thoughts. he doesn’t interrupt. just listens. occasionally shifts his weight. occasionally rests more of it against you until you have to adjust your stance.
“if this breaks me out” you say lightly, “i'll be upset”
his arms tighten briefly in silent support.
you laugh softly. “thank you.”
you line everything up on the counter.
“okay, so first impressions are really good. i’m optimistic.”
his chin slides a little closer to your neck, his voice lower when he speaks. “you say that every time.”
“because i am” you reply.
he smiles against your skin. you can feel it.
you reach for the cleanser again, still talking. “wait, i didn’t even smell this one.”
you open it, bring it up, and he leans in automatically, nose brushing just behind your ear as he inhales.
“thoughts?” you ask.
“clean,” he says. “expensive clean.”
you let out a quiet laugh. “you’re just repeating me now.”
“it’s accurate.”
you’re still filming, just you explaining products while he stands behind you like it’s the most natural place in the world to be.
you catch a glimpse of the two of you in the screen, your hands moving as you talk, his arms around you, both of you swaying slightly without realising.
“anyway” you continue smoothly, “i’ll test these out properly and update you in a couple weeks. but so far, i’m into it.”
his fingers tap lightly against your stomach. impatient, almost.
“what” you say quietly.
“you’re doing great,” he murmurs.
you roll your eyes, but your voice stays steady for the camera. “ignore the live commentary.”
“i’m not live commentary.”
“you are.”
he goes quiet again, resting his cheek against yours.
you pick up the serum one more time, angling it toward the lens.
“okay, last thing, if this ends up being good, i'll link it. if it’s bad, i will pretend it never happened.”
his arms tighten slightly at that.
“don’t lie to them” he says softly.
you grin. “i don’t lie.”
you keep talking, still mid-sentence about patch testing and realistic expectations, while he stays wrapped around you, chin on your shoulder, watching your reflection in the tiny screen instead of the products.
the video keeps going.
-
it cuts to the bathroom.
the camera’s balanced against the mirror, slightly tilted, catching both of you in the reflection. the products are lined up along the sink. joe’s leaning against the counter like he doesn’t fully trust what’s about to happen.
“okay” you say, pushing your sleeves up. “so we’re actually going to test these properly.”
he glances at the lineup. “we are?”
“yeah.” you reach for the cleanser. “on you.”
there’s a beat of silence.
“why me?”
“because you’re here.”
he squints at you. “not a reason.”
“the only reason i need.”
you step closer and he instinctively straightens, like he’s preparing for something dramatic.
“relax” you say. “i’m basically just going to wash your face.”
he lets out a short breath through his nose. “you didn’t warn me.”
“if i warned you, you would’ve left.”
“correct.”
you give him a look and nudge his knee lightly. “sit.”
he hesitates for half a second, then sits on the edge of the tub.
“this feels like a trap” he mutters.
“it’s skincare.”
you open a drawer and pull out one of your soft headbands.
he immediately shakes his head. “no.”
“i need your hair out of your face.”
“i can hold it.”
“you’re not holding it for ten minutes.”
he watches you for a second, then sighs like he’s accepting defeat. you step in closer and slide the headband over his hair, pushing it back carefully.
you just adjust it slightly. “there.”
he looks at himself in the mirror. “this is humiliating.”
“you look fine.”
you turn back to the camera. “ignore him.”
you wet your hands and pump a small amount of cleanser into your palm.
“okay. first step.”
you step between his knees without really thinking about it and start working the cleanser over his skin in slow, even movements.
he goes still almost immediately.
“close your eyes” you say.
he does.
you massage along his jaw, up his cheeks, across his forehead. you’re still talking, explaining the consistency, the way it lathers lightly without feeling harsh.
“feels nice” you say.
“yeah,” he replies, voice lower now. “it’s… fine.”
you glance at him. “fine?”
“good. it’s good.”
you grab a damp cloth and wipe the cleanser away carefully.
“rate it” you say.
he opens his eyes, clearly having forgotten he was part of this review.
“uh. seven.”
“why seven?”
he thinks for a second. “cause my face still feels like my face.”
you stare at him.
“that’s your reasoning?”
“i don’t know what you want from me.”
you shake your head, trying not to laugh. “moving on.”
you reach for the serum, letting a small drop fall onto your fingertips.
“this one’s supposed to help with texture.”
“i don’t have texture" he says automatically.
“everyone has texture.”
you smooth it over his skin, pressing it in gently. his hands come up, settling loosely at your waist like they need somewhere to rest. he’s not really paying attention to the explanation anymore.
“it absorbs fast” you say, watching it disappear into his skin.
“yeah” he murmurs.
“that’s not a rating.”
“eight.”
“why eight?”
he exhales, clearly scrambling. “it feels… light?”
you raise an eyebrow.
“and?” you prompt.
“and you look very focused.”
you pause for a fraction of a second, then continue blending it in like he didn’t just say that.
“not relevant.”
“it’s relevant to me.”
you roll your eyes slightly, but there’s no bite to it.
“okay. moisturiser.”
you scoop a small amount and warm it between your hands before pressing it into his cheeks. your thumbs move along his cheekbones, practical and gentle.
he leans forward a little without meaning to.
“don’t move" you say.
“i’m not.”
you smooth it across his forehead, down his nose, along his jaw.
“thoughts?” you ask.
he opens his eyes slowly. “it’s good.”
“define good.”
he hesitates. “it feels… like lotion.”
you can’t help it, you laugh quietly.
“groundbreaking.”
“i’m doing my best.”
“are you?”
“no” he admits.
you finish by lightly tapping under his eyes with what’s left on your fingers.
“final rating.”
“nine.”
“why?”
“cause you’re done.”
you snort softly. “that’s not how this works.”
he shrugs slightly, headband still pushing his hair back.
you step away just enough to look at him properly.
“okay” you say to the camera. “official verdict- cleanser is solid, serum absorbs fast, moisturiser feels good. he is not helpful.”
“i was helpful” he argues mildly.
“you only said it feels like lotion.”
“it does.”
you reach up and slide the headband off, fixing his hair absentmindedly.
“thank you for your participation.”
“didn’t have a choice.”
“exactly.”
he stands, hands resting lightly at your waist again like that’s just where they go now.
“are we done?” he asks.
“yeah.”
“good.”
“why?”
he just gives you a look instead of answering.
you turn back to the camera. “anyway. i’ll keep testing everything properly and update you in a couple weeks. maybe with a better reviewer.”
“right.”
you grin slightly and reach forward to stop the recording.
comments:
user: "feels like lotion” thank you for that insight
user: never seen him more relaxed
user: headband joe is something i didn’t know i needed
user: seven because his face still feels like his face i’m crying
user: she’s trying to run a serious review and he’s just there like 🙂
kinda obsessed with the idea of Joe dating someone kinda like Devon Lee Carlson and posts ocasionally on youtube and gives just a tiny little slice into their lives together.
ON CAMERA
OR - 4 times joe accidentally interrupted your vlogs, 1 time you actually planned it
joe keery x reader
influencer / youtuber reader au !
desc - snippets of yours and joes relationship caught in your vlogs
val speaks - it’s kinda corny.. but gosh i had fun. idk if this is really what you meant but as soon as i saw this ask my mind went straight to these types of fics n i had to do it😭😭 i hope u do love it tho + send a new ask if u want it in a diff style !!
1
the camera is balanced very precariously against a stack of shoe boxes, angled slightly upward so it catches half your closet and half your face whenever you lean forward.
“okay,” you sigh, pushing a pile of sweaters away from your knees, “this is… not a productive day in the life, but it is realistic. so.”
you gesture vaguely around you.
clothes everywhere. hangers tangled together. one boot without its partner. a tote bag spilling receipts onto the carpet.
“i decided today i’m gonna reorganise my closet because apparently i own seven black hoodies and cannot part with any of them.”
you keep talking, rambling the way you always do when you vlog, half storytelling, half complaining, occasionally forgetting sentences halfway through because you get distracted folding something.
you’re mid-rant about how folding jeans is a nightmare when the bedroom door opens behind you.
soft footsteps. you don’t notice at first.
then suddenly joe just… lowers himself onto the closet floor beside you with a quiet little sigh, shoulder bumping yours.
you blink at him.
“…hi?”
he looks completely relaxed, knees pulled up, leaning against the wall like this was always the plan.
“hi” he says casually.
you stare.
“what are you doing?”
he shrugs. “just wanted to sit with you.”
there’s a pause.
“…okay?”
he picks up one of your sweaters and starts absentmindedly folding it terribly.
“i was lonely" he adds, like that explains everything.
you squint at him, then slowly turn toward the camera.
“say hi to the vlog.”
joe freezes.
his eyes move from you… to the camera… back to you.
“…you’re filming?”
you laugh immediately. “yes?”
he squints harder at the lens like it personally betrayed him. “i didn’t know you were filming.”
you stare at him, incredulous. “what did you think i was doing? talking to myself on the closet floor?”
without missing a beat, he goes, “yeah.”
you choke on a laugh.
“joe.”
he shrugs again, completely serious. “you do that sometimes.”
“i don't-”
you both start laughing, and the camera wobbles slightly because you accidentally kick the shoe boxes.
he leans closer to the camera, awkward but smiling.
“…hi,” he says, giving a small wave. “sorry. didn’t mean to intrude.”
“you literally live here” you say.
“still feels rude.”
you shake your head, smiling as you go back to sorting clothes. joe stays, handing you things, occasionally holding something up and asking, “keep or donate?” like he’s suddenly appointed himself as an organiser.
at one point he holds up an old oversized hoodie.
“this is mine.”
“mine now” you reply instantly.
he laughs softly, bumping your shoulder again, and neither of you notice how domestic the moment looks, just sitting on the floor together, surrounded by mess, talking about nothing.
after a while you reach forward to grab the camera.
“okay, closet progress update- probably worse than before” you say.
joe leans into frame at the last second.
“we found three missing socks” he adds proudly.
you snort. “we didn't.”
“shh”
you end the clip while laughing.
- comments from the video
user: the way he just spawned in😭
user: “i was lonely” hellooooo??????
user: he really thought she was just sitting in a closet talking to herself im crying
user: folding laundry tg is my new dream date
user: he looks so genuinely happy just sitting there i can't
user: we need more joe appearances immediately
user: the fact that he came in just because he was lonely…never recovering
2
this time the camera is propped up against a jar of pasta on the kitchen counter, slightly foggy from steam already collecting in the air.
“okay” you say, squinting at your phone screen where the recipe is open, “today we're attempting something new.”
you gesture dramatically toward the stove, a pan sitting there ominously with nothing in it yet.
“and by we i mean me” you add quickly. “cause learning basic adult cooking skills is important.”
you flip the camera slightly so it shows the ingredients laid out.
there’s flour where flour should not be. an open spice jar tipped sideways. a cutting board that looks like it’s already been through something traumatic.
“i picked an easy recipe” you continue confidently. “beginner friendly.”
you pause, reading.
“…why are there this many steps?”
cut to five minutes later.
the pan is now sizzling aggressively and you’re staring at it like it going to blow up any second..
“i don’t think it’s supposed to sound like that” you whisper to the camera.
the sizzling gets louder.
you grab a spoon, poke at something cautiously, then immediately recoil.
“okay. nope. nope.”
you lean toward the hallway and yell, “babe?”
no response.
louder this time.
“joeeee!”
from somewhere deeper in the apartment: “yeah?”
“can you come here for a second?”
there’s a pause.
“…something on fire?”
“…not yet!”
a moment later joe walks into frame, already laughing a little like he knows exactly what he’s about to walk into. he looks at the stove. then at you. then back at the stove.
“…what happened?”
“i followed the recipe!” you defend immediately.
he peers into the pan. “…did you?”
you cross your arms. “i tried.”
he gently takes the spoon from you like you’re being relieved of duty.
“okay, chef,” he says softly. “step away from the heat.”
you dramatically step aside while narrating to the camera.
joe starts fixing things with suspicious ease. lowering the heat, adding something, stirring like he actually understands what’s happening.
“you didn’t stir it,” he says.
“it didn’t say to stir it” you argue.
he laughs under his breath.
you watch for a second, then gasp suddenly. “wait i forgot something” and hurry out of the kitchen.
and just like that, joe realises he’s alone. with the camera.
he stirs the pan for a few seconds before slowly looking over.
“…oh,” he says.
he leans closer, inspecting the lens like last time.
“hi again.”
he glances toward the hallway to make sure you’re still gone, then back to the camera.
“she’s actually not as bad at cooking as this makes it look,” he says quietly, then pauses. “okay that’s not true. she is.”
he smiles to himself, shaking his head, another stir of the pan.
he lowers his voice,
“don’t tell her i said that.”
he waits a beat, then adds softly, almost absentmindedly-
“she does look pretty cute in that apron though.”
he glances toward the hallway again, clearly making sure you can’t hear him.
“she gets very serious when she’s trying to do something new,” he continues. “like it’s life or death.”
the food sizzles gently now, much calmer.
he nods proudly at the pan. “saved it, by the way.”
he leans his elbows on the counter, suddenly unsure what else to do.
“…i don’t really know what people say in vlogs,” he admits. “life advice? is that a thing?”
he thinks for a second.
“…drink water. call your friends. don’t let her cook unsupervised.”
you reenter the kitchen right as he finishes.
“heard that.”
he straightens immediately, innocent expression on his face.
“heard what?”
you narrow your eyes at him while grabbing the ingredient you forgot, then you notice he’s standing directly in front of the camera.
“…were you talking to them?”
he shrugs. “they seemed lonely."
he grins, handing you the spoon back once everything is safe again.
“okay” you tell the camera, laughing, “joe saved dinner.”
“team effort” he corrects.
you roll your eyes, smiling as the clip ends.
- comments from the video
userr: not him taking over
user: “step away from the heat” sent me
user: the apron comment?? hi we heard that
user: the way his voice got softer when he said she looked pretty i’m unwell
user: he fixed the food and complimented her, standards raised forever
user: accidental joe appearances are my favorite genre now
user: the difference between her chaos energy and his calm fixing-everything energy is ugh everything
3
the vlog starts mid-afternoon, camera balanced on your desk while sunlight comes through the window behind you.
“hi” you say, dropping into your chair slightly out of breath. “today is not exciting. i have errands and i need to clean because things are starting to disappear into piles.”
you gesture vaguely offscreen.
there’s a laundry basket that definitely wasn’t there last week.
“also” you add, lowering your voice like a confession, “i’ve had the same song stuck in my head for three days and it’s ruining my life.”
you start organising random things while talking, stacking notebooks, untangling headphones, moving mugs that shouldn’t be there. the vlog is calm, mostly you rambling about small things, occasionally getting distracted halfway through sentences.
then, faintly from another room-
singing. loud singing, not careful either. full commitment.
you pause mid-sentence.
“…you guys hear that?”
the singing gets louder as footsteps approach down the hallway. joe’s voice carries clearly now, completely unaware of anything happening in the room. he’s singing dramatically, like he’s performing for an invisible audience, absolutely confident.
you try, and fail, not to laugh.
he pushes the door open still singing, holding a laundry basket, and freezes the second he notices the camera.
there’s a long pause.
you’re already laughing.
“keep going” you say.
he immediately shakes his head. “no. absolutely not.”
“you were committed,” you argue. “don’t stop now.”
he sets the laundry basket down slowly, suspicious. “how long has that been recording?”
you glance at the camera. “…long enough.”
he rubs a hand over his face, half embarrassed, half amused.
“great. awesome.”
you grin. “say hi.”
he looks at the camera, resigned. “hi.”
you turn back to organising your desk like nothing happened. “he’s been doing this all day, by the way.”
“that’s not true” he says defensively.
“you sang in the kitchen. and the hallway. and whatever that was in the bathroom.”
he points at you. “the echo in there is incredible.”
you laugh, continuing to sort papers.
joe starts folding laundry beside you, quieter now, occasionally humming under his breath before catching himself and stopping. a minute passes where you’re both just doing your own thing, comfortable silence except for fabric rustling.
then he casually says, “you started it anyway.”
you look up. “started what?”
“the song. you were singing it this morning.”
you blink. “…i was not.”
he looks straight at the camera like he’s presenting evidence.
“she absolutely was. like, full performance while making coffee.”
you gasp. “one time.”
“you used a spoon as a microphone.”
you point accusingly. “you encouraged me!”
he shrugs. “and now it’s stuck in my head. this is on you.”
you’re both smiling now, arguing quietly while folding clothes.
you stand up suddenly. “i need hangers” and walk out of the room.
joe keeps folding for a second before realising,
camera. again.
he sighs softly, amused with himself.
“…i keep walking into this” he mutters.
he glances toward the hallway to make sure you’re gone.
then looks back at the lens.
“for the record,” he says, quieter, “she’s worse than me.”
he folds another shirt carefully.
“also she’s gonna pretend she doesn’t care that i exposed her, but she absolutely will.”
he pauses, thinking.
“…anyway. uh. hope everyone’s having a good day.”
he awkwardly gives a small thumbs up, immediately regretting it.
you walk back in right then holding hangers.
“are you talking to them again?”
“no.”
“…you're literally facing the camera.”
he turns away instantly. “just stretching.”
you narrow your eyes but start hanging clothes anyway.
“sure.”
the clip ends with both of you quietly bickering about who sings more while organising laundry.
- comments from the video
user: the way he walked in mid belt
user: “acoustics in there are incredible” he’s so serious about it
user: them folding laundry and arguing about singing is weirdly my comfort video now
user: he keeps getting left alone with the camera and immediately starts confessing things
user: joe vs the camera is becoming an ongoing battle
4
the camera is set up on the bathroom counter, slightly tilted because it’s resting against a skincare bottle that’s definitely not meant to hold weight.
you lean closer to fix the angle.
“okay” you say, squinting at the screen, “today we’re doing a very requested… makeup routine. which is funny because i do the same thing every day and just hope for the best.”
you tuck your hair behind your ears and start digging through a small pile of products spread across the counter.
“also ignore the lighting” you add. “bathroom lighting is either really good or really bad.”
you start talking through what you’re doing, not really tutorial-style, more like thinking out loud while blending concealer and occasionally getting distracted by your own reflection.
halfway through explaining something, movement appears behind you in the mirror.
joe slowly peeks around the bathroom doorway.
just his head.
he makes eye contact with the mirror first, then notices the camera.
his eyes widen slightly.
you see him at the same time and immediately start smiling.
“…hi.”
he freezes like he’s been caught doing something illegal.
“are you filming?” he whispers.
you nod, trying not to laugh.
he gives a silent oh and slowly retreats back out of sight.
you shake your head at the camera. “he does that every time.”
you go back to your makeup, continuing your commentary like nothing happened.
a full minute passes.
you’re curling your lashes when he peeks around the corner again, slower this time, clearly checking the counter for the camera before looking at you.
you raise an eyebrow.
“…yes?”
he hesitates. “still filming?”
“yes.”
he sighs dramatically and disappears again.
you laugh under your breath. “he needs something but refuses to interrupt.”
another minute goes by.
you’re blending blush when suddenly he walks fully into the bathroom like he’s accepted his fate.
“okay, i can’t wait anymore,” he says. “need to brush my teeth.”
you burst out laughing. “you could’ve just come in.”
“i was trying to be respectful" he says, reaching past you toward the holder by the sink.
he pauses, noticing himself in the mirror next to you.
“…wow. i look tired.”
“don’t hijack my makeup routine” you say, gently nudging him aside with your elbow.
he watches for a second while you blend.
“you do that differently every time.”
“no i don’t.”
“you absolutely do.”
you glance at him through the mirror. “why'd you observe this so closely?”
he shrugs, already putting toothpaste on his brush. “i live with you. hard not to.”
you laugh, shaking your head.
he lingers instead of leaving, leaning against the doorway while brushing his teeth, watching you finish your makeup.
there’s a comfortable quiet for a moment.
then he gestures vaguely toward your face. “that colour’s nice.”
you pause mid-motion. “this?” you say, gesturing towards your blush.
he nods, mouth full of toothpaste foam, immediately realising he shouldn’t be talking and turning toward the sink.
you grin at the camera. “professional review.”
he rinses, then glances at the camera again, less surprised this time.
“…hi” he says casually, like this is normal now.
“they’ve already seen you twice today” you tell him.
he nods thoughtfully. “i figured.”
you cap your lipliner. “anything else you urgently need while you’re here?”
he pretends to think about it, then reaches over and steals your water bottle off the counter.
“hey-”
“need this” he says, already walking toward the door.
you laugh. “that's mine!”
he pauses in the doorway, turning back briefly.
“looks good” he says, nodding toward your finished makeup, then disappears down the hall.
you look at the camera, smiling a little despite yourself.
“…anyway,” you say, trying to sound normal again, “that’s the routine.”
you reach forward to stop recording, still laughing quietly.
- comments from the video
user: THE DOUBLE PEEK AROUND THE CORNER
user: the casual compliment?? hello???
user: he’s slowly becoming more comfortable with the camera and it’s adorable
user: stealing her water before leaving was criminal
user: the way he checked if she was still filming TWICE
user: their conversations feel so normal it makes the vids better somehow
user: we all knew he was going to end up in this vlog the second it started
5
the camera is set up properly for once, balanced on a tripod instead of whatever random object you usually find. the lighting is warm, late afternoon sun coming through the window behind the couch.
you sit cross-legged with your laptop open, scrolling through questions.
joe drops onto the couch beside you a second later, slightly off-center in frame until you grab his sleeve and tug him closer.
“you have to sit in the shot” you tell him.
“i am in the shot.”
“you’re not.”
he shifts closer, amused. “better?”
“acceptable.”
you look back at the camera.
“okay, this is the first video where he is here on purpose,” you say. “we asked for questions and you guys sent… a lot.”
you start scrolling.
without thinking, he reaches over and takes your hand, thumb brushing slowly over your knuckles while you look for the first question. he’s focused on the laptop screen, completely absentminded about it.
you don’t react, just keep reading.
“okay,” you say. “first one- how did you guys meet?”
joe leans back slightly. “mutual friends. and i watched one of her videos”
you nod. “very normal.”
“no dramatic music” he adds. “no running through airports.”
you grin. “you did spill a drink on me.”
he immediately points at you. “you walked into me.”
“you were moving weird”
“i was standing still!”
you look at the camera. “he was not standing still.”
he shakes his head, smiling like this argument has happened before.
you scroll again.
“first impression of each other?”
you think. “i thought you were quieter than you actually are.”
joe laughs. “that’s cause i was nervous.”
“i thought you were nice,” he says after a second. “and funny. but also slightly intimidating.”
you stare at him. “me?”
“you talk to everyone like you’ve known em' for ten years.”
“…that’s just being friendly.”
“terrifying” he says, nodding.
you laugh and keep scrolling.
“okay… who said ‘i love you’ first?”
you glance at him immediately, he already looks resigned.
“…me” he says.
you grin. “yep.”
he points at you accusingly. “but you knew it was coming.”
“i did not.”
“you absolutely did.”
you turn toward him. “tell it correctly then.”
he sighs, smiling despite himself.
“we were walking home,” he says. “late. and you were talking about something completely unrelated, like snacks or something.”
“it was important" you interrupt.
“i’m sure it was,” he says. “and i just said it. mid-conversation.”
you laugh quietly. “completely out of nowhere.”
“yeah,” he admits. “and then you stopped walking.”
“because you surprised me!”
he looks at the camera. “she stared at me for like ten full seconds.”
“i was processing”
“longest ten seconds of my life.”
you bump his shoulder. “i said it back.”
“eventually” he says, smiling.
his thumb traces another absent circle across your hand without him noticing.
you scroll again, cheeks slightly warm.
“okay next, who apologises first after an argument?”
both of you answer immediately.
“him.”
“me.”
you look at each other.
joe shrugs. “i don’t like tension.”
“he apologises even when it’s not his fault” you tell the camera.
“peacekeeping” he says.
you shake your head, smiling.
next question.
“who takes longer to get ready?”
“her” joe says instantly.
“him” you say at the exact same time.
you turn toward him. “you rehearse jackets.”
“jackets matter.”
you laugh. “you own more hair products than i do.”
he looks genuinely offended. “not true.”
you raise an eyebrow.
“…maybe equal” he admits.
you scroll again.
“favorite thing to do together when you’re not working?”
joe answers first this time. “nothing.”
you nod immediately. “yeah. honestly nothing.”
he explains, “like just staying in. cooking badly-”
“i cook fine now.”
“-watching movies,” he continues over you, smiling. “going on walks. normal stuff.”
you glance at him. “we’re very exciting.”
“incredibly.”
you read another.
“who is more affectionate?”
you both pause.
“…him” you say.
joe looks surprised. “really?”
you nod. “you’re always like-” you gesture vaguely with your free hand, meaning the hand holding, the leaning, the small touches he never notices.
he looks down at your joined hands like he’s only just realised.
“…oh.”
you laugh quietly. “yeah.”
he doesn’t let go though.
next question.
“do you like being in the vlogs?”
joe thinks for a second.
“…i do,” he says finally. “they’re just normal days, nothin staged.”
you nod. “that’s the point.”
he glances at you. “also i can’t really avoid them anyway.”
“you’ve accepted your fate.”
“i’ve embraced it.”
you scroll to one last question.
“okay, last one. what’s something small the other person does that makes you happy?”
you hum thoughtfully.
“he makes coffee for me even when he’s half asleep,” you say. “and he remembers really random things i say once and brings them up weeks later.”
joe shrugs like it’s nothing.
your turn.
he thinks longer this time.
“…you talk to me even when you’re doing something else,” he says. “like you’ll just keep a conversation going from another room.”
you smile. “that’s cause you never hear me the first time.”
“not true.”
you give him a look.
“…sometimes true” he admits.
you close the laptop.
“okay,” you say. “that’s all for questions.”
joe gives a small wave toward the camera.
you laugh. “they like you.”
he shakes his head a little, smiling anyway.
you lean forward to turn the camera off, but before it cuts, he squeezes your hand once and quietly asks, “we getting food after this?”
you nod. “obviously.”
the video ends mid-conversation.
- comments from the video
user: HE SAID I LOVE YOU MID CONVERSATION
user: him realising he was holding her hand the whole time???
user: “longest ten seconds of my life” i'm emotional
user: the way they remember tiny things about each other 🥲
desc - doing more tiktok trends on you chronically offline bf
val speaks - hey lovers ! if youve requested anything to do w pranks + this au then ive tried my best to find them all and add them in here! thanku all sosooososo much for loving this au, it means so much to me n i love my youtube girly n the worlds fav clueless offline man
pt 1
trying to match his eating pace
the camera’s already recording when joe walks in.
he’s carrying two plates and looks at the phone like he’s checking if it’s pointed at him or not.
“it’s already on?” he asks.
“yeah,” you say, scooting the tripod back a little. “it’s just like an eat-with-us thing.”
joe sets one plate in front of you and sits down across the table. he’s gotten a lot more normal about the camera over time, in the beginning he used to leave the room when you filmed. now he just sort of accepts that sometimes the phone is sitting there watching him eat lunch.
he leans toward it slightly.
“hi” he says flatly.
you bite the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh.
perfect.
earlier that morning you’d seen the tiktok trend, matching his eating pace. same bites, same timing, even putting the food down when they do.
joe definitely does not know trends like this exist.
which makes it better.
“okay,” you say, picking up your sandwich. “ready?”
“for lunch?” he says.
“yeah.”
he shrugs and grabs his sandwich.
first bite.
you take a bite at the exact same time.
he doesn’t notice.
he’s looking at his plate, adjusting the chips on the side like he’s organising them for some reason.
he takes another bite.
you take another bite.
same size.
he chews for a second, then sets the sandwich down to grab his drink.
you immediately set yours down too.
still nothing.
he takes a sip, scrolling through his phone with his thumb.
you take a sip right after.
joe’s talking mid-scroll. “someone sent me this video earlier-”
he stops.
looks up.
“…did you just copy me?”
“copy what?” you ask, chewing.
he squints a little, like he’s replaying the last ten seconds in his head.
“…nothing.”
he picks the sandwich back up.
another bite.
you take a bite.
he chews slowly now.
thinking.
then he puts the sandwich down again to reach for a chip.
you put yours down too.
that’s when he freezes.
his hand is halfway to the chip bowl when he looks at you.
“…okay wait.”
you look back at him. “what?”
“why did you do that?”
“do what?”
“you put it down.”
“i was done chewing.”
“at the exact same time?”
you shrug.
joe stares at you for a second like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.
then he picks his sandwich up again.
you pick yours up.
he pauses.
slowly looks up.
“…are you doing that on purpose?”
he takes a bite too, just to test it.
you match it exactly.
joe lowers the sandwich very carefully and watches you.
you lower yours too.
there’s a few seconds of silence.
then he leans back in his chair.
“…okay what is happening.”
you’re already starting to laugh.
“i’m just eating.”
“no you’re not.”
“yes i am.”
he leans forward again, suspicious now.
“don’t move.”
you raise your eyebrows.
joe slowly lifts the sandwich.
you lift yours.
he sighs.
“…oh my god.”
you’re trying so hard not to laugh now that your shoulders are shaking.
“is this a thing?” he asks.
“maybe.”
“a thing where you copy someone eating?”
“kind of.”
he rubs his face with one hand. “i feel like i’m in some weird social experiment.”
joe grabs a chip.
you grab a chip.
he looks directly at you while eating it.
you do the same.
he drops his hand onto the table and laughs under his breath.
“this is so stupid.”
“people like it.”
“people like watching you freak me out?”
you shrug but the smile on your face says it all.
you finally start laughing for real.
joe shakes his head and picks the sandwich up again.
“…now i can’t eat normally because i know you’re gonna do it.”
“just pretend i’m not.”
he takes a bite.
you take a bite.
joe groans and leans his head back.
“i hate the internet.”
you grin. “you’re doing great.”
he looks straight into the camera now.
“…anyone watching that taught her this, i blame you.”
comments
user: him slowly leaning back when he figured it out i cant
user: i need a clueless bf to do trends on
user: “i hate the internet” joe we love you
is it okay if i eat this?
the camera is propped up against the little sugar holder on the table.
it’s not super obvious unless someone’s looking for it, which joe definitely is not. he’s too busy studying the menu like it’s important.
“how many burgers do they have” he mutters.
“it’s a burger place i don't know” you say.
“there’s only like… seven.”
you glance at the camera for a second before looking back down at your own menu.
this trend is way simpler than the last one.
all you have to do is ask his permission to order something.
joe flips the menu over. “okay wait. is this the same burger but with mushrooms or is it a completely different burger.”
“i think it’s just mushrooms.”
“why would mushrooms make it a different burger.”
you shrug. “branding.”
he nods like that makes total sense.
a waitress walks over a minute later, notepad in hand. “hi guys, are you ready to order?”
joe immediately closes his menu.
“yeah” he says. “can i get the-”
you cut in first.
“um,” you say, turning to him slightly. “is it okay if i get a burger instead of the salad?”
joe looks at you.
not confused yet.
just waiting for the rest of the sentence.
“…yeah?” he says slowly. “why wouldn’t it be.”
you nod like you needed confirmation. “okay.”
then you turn back to the waitress pointing at the menu.
“i’ll get this burger please”
joe is still looking at you.
the waitress writes it down like nothing weird just happened.
“and for you?” she asks him.
“uh… yeah the same burger actually” he says, still half-looking at you.
she nods and leaves.
there’s about three seconds of silence.
joe finally speaks.
“…what was that.”
you look up from the menu like nothing happened. “what?”
“why did you ask me if you could get a burger.”
“i just wanted to check.”
he stares at you.
“…check what.”
“if it was okay.”
joe blinks.
“why would that not be okay.”
you shrug a little.
“i don’t know.”
he leans back in the booth now, trying to figure out if you’re serious.
“…you can order whatever you want.”
“i know.”
“then why did you ask.”
“just making sure.”
joe rubs his forehead.
“making sure of what.”
“that you didn’t mind.”
“mind what.”
you try really hard not to smile.
“the burger.”
joe looks like his brain has stalled.
“baby,” he says slowly, “you could order five burgers.”
you nod thoughtfully. “okay.”
“i do not care” he adds.
“good to know.”
he squints at you.
“…is this a thing.”
“what.”
“are you doing one of your internet things again.”
you look innocent. “no.”
“you do these things all the time, its one of them isn't it.”
“no”
he points at you.
“feels the same.”
you pick up your drink.
“you’re overthinking it.”
joe shakes his head but he’s smiling a little now.
“…you absolutely could have just ordered the burger.”
“i know.”
“you didn’t need permission.”
“okay.”
he leans across the table slightly.
“…are you about to ask me if you’re allowed to drink your soda.”
“is it okay if i drink my soda?”
joe drops his head into his hands.
“oh my god.”
you’re laughing now.
comments
user: 'you could order five burgers' im gonna die
user: IS IT OKAY IF I DRINK MY SODA LMAOOOO
user: he just knows its for us now
rage bait q + a
the camera is on the coffee table this time.
“why is it pointed at me” joe says from the couch.
“because,” you say, sitting down next to him. “i’m doing a q&a.”
“with me?”
“yeah.”
he thinks about that for a second.
“…do i need to prepare.”
“no.”
that somehow makes him more suspicious.
he leans back into the couch, arms crossed a little. “what kind of questions.”
“just like fun ones.”
joe sighs like he already knows this is not going to be fun.
“okay.”
you look at the camera.
“alright,” you say. “today we’re asking joe some questions.”
joe gives the camera a small wave.
“hi.”
you turn back to him.
“first question.”
he nods.
“do you love me because i’m pretty, or am i pretty because you love me?”
joe blinks.
“…what.”
“do you love me because i’m pretty,” you repeat calmly, “or am i pretty because you love me.”
he looks at you like you’ve asked him a math problem.
“…those feel like the same answer.”
“no they’re not.”
“yes they are.”
“which one.”
joe rubs his face with one hand already.
“…i love you because you’re pretty.”
you immediately shake your head.
“wrong.”
he stares at you.
“…how.”
“so if i wasn’t pretty you wouldn’t love me?”
joe sits up straight.
“that’s not what i said.”
“that’s what you implied.”
“i didn’t”
you look at the camera like see.
joe points at you. “okay wait.”
“next question,” you say.
“no-”
“would you rather cheat on me,” you continue, “or never have met me.”
joe’s mouth opens.
then closes.
“…those are both terrible.”
“you have to pick one.”
“why.”
“it’s the game.”
he stares at the table for a second like the answer might appear there.
“…never have met you.”
you gasp.
“wow.”
joe’s head snaps up.
“no- wait-”
“so you’d rather erase me from existence?”
“that’s not what-”
“you’d rather i just never existed in your life.”
“i picked the less bad one!”
“that felt pretty bad.”
joe runs both hands through his hair now.
“…this is impossible.”
you smile.
“next question.”
he groans quietly but stays sitting there.
“if i had an identical twin sister,” you say, “would you be attracted to her.”
joe freezes.
“…no.”
you raise your eyebrows.
“really.”
“yes.”
“but she looks exactly like me.”
“i know.”
“so you’re saying i’m not attractive.”
joe stares at you.
“…that’s not how twins work.”
“it’s literally exactly how twins work.”
he points between you and the camera like he’s presenting evidence.
“you see what she’s doing right now right.”
“answer the question.”
“i did.”
“and it was wrong.”
joe drops his head back against the couch and laughs a little in defeat.
“i cannot win this.”
“last one.”
he covers his face with one hand already.
“okay.”
“if we were both drowning,” you say, “and you could only save one of us, would you save me or yourself.”
joe slowly lowers his hand.
“…why would i save myself.”
“so you’d let yourself drown.”
“no.”
“so you’d save yourself.”
“i didn’t say that!”
“that’s what it sounds like.”
joe leans forward, elbows on his knees.
“i would save you.”
“so you’d abandon yourself.”
he stares at you.
“…yes.”
“feels unhealthy.”
he looks directly at the camera now.
“are these real questions or are you just trying to ruin my life.”
you shrug.
joe points at you, realising.
“every answer is wrong.”
“that’s not true.”
“i literally can't answer them correctly.”
“you could try harder.”
he laughs under his breath and shakes his head.
you grin.
joe sighs and looks at the camera one more time.
comments
user: this man was fighting for his life
user: joe vs internet trends my favourite show
user: poor clueless baby
calling him his full name and making him think he did something wrong
you’re sitting on the floor of joe’s old bedroom.
the camera is leaned against a stack of books on the desk, angled just enough to catch the room.
joe’s downstairs with his parents.
you can hear faint talking and the sound of cabinets opening in the kitchen.
you’re halfway through explaining something to the camera.
“-so we’re staying here for a couple days because-”
you pause, looking toward the door.
perfect timing.
you raise your voice slightly.
“joseph david keery!”
there’s about two seconds of silence downstairs.
then you hear a chair move.
a pause.
footsteps.
fast footsteps.
you bite the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh before he gets there.
a second later joe appears in the doorway.
he looks… cautious.
like someone who has just been called into a principal’s office.
“…yeah?” he says carefully.
his hair is a little messy and he’s still holding a dish towel from the kitchen.
you look up at him.
before you can say anything, he speaks again.
“hey,” he says quickly, like he’s trying to get ahead of something. “uh… you look really nice.”
you blink.
joe gestures vaguely at you.
“like- your hair looks good. and that sweater looks nice on you.”
he’s nodding a little as he says it, like he’s listing evidence.
you stare at him for a second.
“…thank you.”
he shifts his weight in the doorway.
“…you’re welcome.”
small pause.
joe is still standing there.
waiting.
“…did i do something?” he asks carefully.
you tilt your head. “what?”
“you said my full name.”
“yeah.”
“…why.”
you shrug a little. “i was calling you.”
he looks confused now.
“you never call me that.”
“i just did.”
joe shifts again, like he’s still waiting for the actual issue to appear.
“…okay.”
you smile at him. “can you grab my water bottle from the kitchen?”
“yeah.”
he doesn’t move yet though.
still suspicious.
“…that’s it?”
“that’s it.”
joe squints a little.
“…are you sure.”
“yes.”
another pause.
then he slowly nods.
“okay.”
he turns and walks back down the hall, still looking mildly unsettled.
the second he disappears you start laughing quietly.
a few minutes later he comes back with the bottle.
he sets it down next to you.
“here.”
“thank you.”
“you’re welcome.”
he lingers again.
“…you’re still filming.”
“yeah.”
joe looks at the camera.
then back at you.
“…i feel like something happened and i'm missing it.”
“nothing happened.”
he studies your face for a second longer.
then sighs.
“okay.”
he leans down and kisses the top of your head before leaving the room again.
-
later that evening you’re in the kitchen with his mom while joe and his dad are outside messing with the grill.
she’s laughing before she even finishes the sentence.
“when you said his full name earlier” she says, covering her mouth, “i watched the colour drain out of his face.”
you laugh.
“he looked terrified.”
“oh he thought he was in trouble” she says immediately.
you’re both laughing when joe walks back in through the door.
he looks between the two of you.
“…why are you guys laughing.”
you take a sip of your drink.
“nothing.”
his mom just smiles.
joe narrows his eyes slightly.
“…i don’t believe either of you.”
comments
user: HIM PANIC COMPLIMENTING YOU😭
user: the survival instinct kicked in immediately
user: you can tell he was thinking of every possible thing he could've done wrong
joe getting you back.. again!
the video starts shaky.
it’s clearly joe’s phone, held a little too close to his face.
he’s whispering.
“okay,” he says quietly. “so a while ago she was doing these trend things on me, now she's back at it again.”
he tilts the camera slightly so it’s pointing down the hallway.
“and everyone thinks its hilarious”
he looks back at the camera.
“…so i have to get her back. again.”
there’s a pause while he listens.
you’re somewhere in the house, moving around in the kitchen.
joe grins a little.
“i’m just gonna scare her.”
he flips the camera around and props it on a little table by the hallway corner so it can see the doorway.
then he crouches behind the wall.
a few seconds pass.
you walk into frame carrying a glass.
you’re halfway down the hallway when joe suddenly jumps out.
“AH.”
you scream immediately.
“JOE-”
the glass sloshes but you manage not to spill it.
joe is already laughing.
not even trying to hide it.
“oh my god,” he says between laughs.
you’re clutching your chest.
“what is wrong with you.”
he just grins.
the video cuts.
-
next clip.
the phone is hidden on a shelf near the living room doorway.
joe whispers again.
“round two.”
you walk past the doorway looking at your phone.
joe jumps out again.
you flinch so hard you nearly drop the phone.
“STOP.”
joe bends over laughing.
“you should have seen your face.”
you shove his shoulder as you walk past.
“you’re such an idiot.”
the video cuts again.
-
third clip.
the phone is sitting on the kitchen counter now.
joe is crouched behind the fridge.
you open the fridge door.
joe pops up from behind it.
you yelp and smack his arm.
“JOE.”
he laughs so hard he has to grab the counter.
“i can’t help it.”
you’re shaking your head already walking away.
“you’re literally a child.”
cut again.
-
the last clip starts with joe whispering louder because he’s trying not to laugh.
the phone is balanced on a little table in the hallway again.
“okay,” he says. “last one.”
he’s hiding around the corner near the living room.
you’re walking toward the hallway carrying a blanket.
joe waits until you’re right there.
then jumps out.
“HEY.”
you scream and stumble backwards.
the blanket tangles around your legs and you land straight on the floor.
“oh-”
joe immediately bursts out laughing.
like full, uncontrollable laughing.
he crouches down next to you still laughing.
“i’m sorry- i’m sorry-”
you’re sitting on the floor looking offended.
“you literally knocked me over.”
he’s still laughing but reaches down and scoops you up a little, pulling you against him.
“are you okay,” he asks, kissing the top of your head quickly.
you scoff.
“you’re still laughing.”
“i’m not-”
he immediately laughs again.
you try to stand up.
“i’m fine.”
joe wraps an arm around you to stop you getting up, still half-laughing.
“wait wait- hold on-”
“joe.”
he’s shaking his head, trying to calm down.
“i’m sorry- i didn’t think you’d actually fall-”
you try to push yourself up again but he’s still holding you there.
“i’m getting up.”
“no you’re not.”
you look at him.
he’s still grinning.
“you started this” he says.
you roll your eyes.
the video ends with him still holding you on the floor while you try to push him off.
comments
user: “i have to get her back” the villain origin story pt2
