lollapalooza brasil - joe keery x reader (coachella prequel)
hi hi!
reader x joe keery during Lollapalooza SΓ£o Paulo , this could honestly be a series prequel to the Coachella series thing Iβm doing.
(hoping to get a next part of that out soon btw <3)
Iβve been loving your guysβ comments btw & ty for all the love and 150 followers <3
no crazy warnings, just fluff and touchy joe with some kissing.
You and the group had landed early that morning, dragging suitcases through the airport, half asleep and slightly delirious, all of you running on festival energy and last minute decisions from the night before.Β
With that, Joe isΒ barelyΒ awake.
Heβs got his favourite Boston cap pulled low, hood up over it, sunglasses on, and heβs leaning into you as you walk, his head tipping slightly toward yours, shoulder brushing yours every few steps.
But still, your hands are linked.
βYouβre actually asleep,β you mumble, glancing at him.
βIβm not,β he says, voice rough, not convincing at all.
βYouβre literally walking into me.β
You laugh softly, squeezing his hand. βYouβre funny.β
Just tightens his hold on you slightly as you make your way toward baggage claim.
The carouselβs already going when you get there, people gathered around it, watching their bags circle like itβs the most important thing in the world.
Joe doesnβt move to the front.
He just stays behind the line with you, shifting closer until heβs basically leaning on you completely now with his head dipping for a second like he might actually fall asleep standing up.
βJoeβ¦baby,β you say, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.
He huffs a quiet laugh, eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses. βIβm trying so hard.β
Your suitcase comes around.
You spot it first, stepping forward slightly but Joeβs already moving before you can say anything.
Still half asleep, but he lets go of your hand just long enough to grab it off the belt, pulling it down with one easy motion.
Then heβs back, dropping the handle into your hand before slipping his fingers back through yours like itβs automatic.
βThank you,β you say.
He just nods, leaning into you again, head tipping slightly toward yours.
You reach up without thinking, brushing your fingers lightly along his cheek.
βPoor baby,β you tease softly.
He turns his face into your hand for half a second with a small pout.
His suitcase rolls past but neither of you notices.
He straightens slightly, just enough to grab it as it comes around again, dragging it back over with minimal effort before settling right back into your space.
You shake your head, smiling.
The walk toward the exit is quicker now.
You can feel it before you see it, the shift in energy, the noise picking up slightly and loads of people lingering near the doors.
Joe straightens a little more now.
His hand tightens around yours, and he subtly shifts so heβs slightly in front of you as you get closer.
βStay with me,β he murmurs.
The doors slide open, revealing a swarm of people shouting almost immediately.
Phones come up almost instantly.
βCan we get a picture?β
Joe exhales softly, but thereβs no annoyance in it.
His hand squeezes yours once before he gently pulls you slightly behind him, positioning himself between you and the crowd without making it obvious.
βHey,β he says, stepping forward just enough. βYeah, of course.β
He doesnβt let go of you completely.
Your hand stays tucked behind him, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.
The photos, smiles and quick half conversations.
Heβs warm and patient, even though he still looks half asleep answering people, thanking them, leaning in for pictures.
βHiβsorryβcan Iββ
A girl, a little nervous, phone in hand.
βCan I get a photo with you?β she asks.
She nods quickly. βYeah, if thatβs okay.β
You glance at Joe instinctively.
Heβs already looking at you, a small smile pulling at his mouth like heβs just as surprised but also not.
You turn back to her, smiling. βYeah, of course.β
She lights up immediately, stepping closer.
Joe shifts slightly to the side, giving you space but not moving far still right there, still close enough that his arm brushes yours.
You lean in for the photo, smiling naturally as she takes it.
βThank you so much,β she says quickly after, lowering her phone. βYouβre so beautiful, by the way.β
You pause for a second, caught off guard.
βOhβthank you,β you say, a little softer. βSo are you!.β
She smiles again, clearly a bit nervous, then glances at Joe.
βAnd you guys are really cute.β
Joe lets out a quiet laugh at that.
You feel his hand brush yours again.
βThanks,β he says easily.
She says goodbye, moving back into the crowd.
And youβre left standing there, still processing slightly.
βThat was new,β you say under your breath.
You glance at him. βPeople donβt usually ask me.β
You snort. βShut up.β
He looks at you properly now.
But thereβs something softer there. Proud, almost.
βYou handled that well baby,β he adds.
βI said thank you.β You reason.
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself.
βCome on,β you say. βBefore more people show up.β
Lollapalooza was still in full swing, and Joe was already being pulled straight into rehearsal the second you got in.
Youβd tag along for part of it, standing off to the side, watching him run through things, the stage bigger than it looked on screen.
Crew members moving around, adjusting cables, calling things out in quick Portuguese. The sun hits everything harshly, but once Joe stepped under the lights, it was a different kind of heat entirely.
Heβd been focused, quieter than usual, but every now and then heβd glance over at you like he needed to check you were still there.
He grabs his guitar, rolling his shoulders once like heβs settling into it.
He runs through a few chords, sounds echoing out into the empty space. Someone from the crew adjusts something, giving him a thumbs up.
βCould you turn down my in ears please.β He calls out politely, tapping his ear.
Then he glances over straight at you.
You raise an eyebrow, already smiling.
He smirks slightly, then leans into the mic.
βTesting,β he says casually. βOne, twoββ
Then, quieter, like itβs not meant for the whole stage
βYou good over there?β
You laugh, shaking your head. βIβm fine.β
One of the crew guys looks between you both, confused, but Joe just keeps going like nothing is happening.
βCool,β he utters into the mic. βJust checking.β
You roll your eyes, but you canβtΒ Β stop smiling.
He starts playing properly then, running through part ofΒ Roddy, but every so often, his attention drifts. A quick glance in your direction, like he needs that anchor.
At one point, he stops mid run.
βActually, wait,β he begins, stepping back from the mic. βCome here for a second.β
βCome here.β He repeats, summoning you with his index and middle finger.
You hesitate at first, then walk closer, stopping just at the edge of the stage.
Heβs crouching slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, looking down at you.
βHow does it sound?β he asks full of pride.
βGood,β you mumble, trying not to boost his ego.
βYouβre sweaty already.β
βThatβs not what I asked baby.β
βHot though,β you add, shrugging.
He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. βYouβre unbelievable.β
βJust being the supportive girlfriend I am.β
βYouβre distracting.β
βAnd yetΒ youΒ called me over.β
βYeah, thatβs on me.β
You smile, stepping back again. βGet back to work dork.β
He watches you go for a second longer than necessary.
Then stood up again, adjusting his guitar.
Afterwards, though, everything loosened again.
The rest of the group disappeared pretty quickly, someone mentioned food with Wes loudly insisting he needed both and plans split off in every direction.
You ended up back outside with Joe, the afternoon sun still high, neither of you really in a rush to go anywhere.
The noise and constant movement, like the city doesnβt really pause for anything, and you either keep up or get swallowed by it.
Youβve got one of Joeβs capsΒ Β pulled low, sunglasses on, and a Brazil football top tied slightly at the waist. Joeβs wearing the same one, his hanging looser, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses doing absolutely nothing to make him less recognisable.
You clock that immediately.
βYou know this was a bad idea,β you say as you walk down the street, fingers loosely laced with his.
βWhat was?β he asks, glancing at you.
βThe matching shirts.β
He looks down at himself, then back at you. βWhat? Itβs a good shirt.β
βItβs a very good shirt. Thatβs not the point.β
βWhatβs the point?β
βThe point is people are going to notice us from a mile away.β
βUs?β he raises an eyebrow.
βYou,β you correct quickly. βYouβre the problem.β
He laughs under his breath, squeezing your hand slightly. βYou agreed to it.β
βI didnβt think it through.β
You bump your shoulder into his. βDonβt get cocky.β
βIβm not cocky,β he says. βIβm right.β
But you donβt let go of his hand either.
You turn the corner, scanning the shops, and then something catches your eye. A small vintage store tucked between two louder storefronts, slightly hidden, racks visible through the glass.
βOoo, there,β you say, pointing.
Joe follows your gaze. βThat one?β
He squints. βLooks interesting.β
βExactly why itβs good.β
He lets you pull him toward it, your hands still linked, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as you walk.
βYou survived rehearsal, by the way,β you add, glancing at him.
βBarely,β he exhales. βItβs so hot on stage. I donβt know how Iβm supposed to function.β
βOh Iβm sure youβll be fine.β
βI was sweating through everything.β
βSuper hot,β you mumble immediately.
He turns his head, giving you a look over his sunglasses.Β
βWhat? Iβm boosting your confidence.β You smirk.
βBy calling me sweaty?β
βBy calling you hot.β
He shakes his head, smiling slightly.
Before he can say anything else, someone approaches.
βSorry, are you Djo?β
Joe sighs softly under his breath, already nodding. βYeah, hi.β
You step back automatically, letting go of his hand so they can take a picture.
It happens fast. It always does.
A quick photo, a thank you, a compliment, and then theyβre gone.
Joe turns back to you immediately.
βSee?β you say. βThe shirts.β
He shrugs. βCouldβve been anything.β
Another person approaches.
You donβt even say anything this time, you just give him a look.
He smiles, slightly apologetic but not surprised.
βTwo minutes,β he murmurs to you.
βTake your time baby,β you say lightly, but youβre already stepping aside again.
You watch him for a second.
The way he switches so easily, kind, patiently taking photos, making conversation like it doesnβt cost him anything.
You canβt even be annoyed.
When he finally makes his way back to you, he reaches for your hand again without hesitation.
βYou say that like I didnβt warn you.β You reply.
You smile a little. βStop apologising, itβsΒ Β fine.β
He studies your face for a second, like heβs checking if you actually mean it.
βAlright,β he says, squeezing your hand. βLetβs go before it happens again.β
You push open the door to the shop.
A small bell rings above you.
Inside is packed with racks overflowing, denim, dresses, random pieces hanging off hooks like theyβve been there forever. It smells like old fabric.
Joe steps in behind you, looking around.
You drop his hand as you move toward a rack, already flipping through clothes.
βDonβt wander too far,β he says.
You glance back at him. βWhy, youβll miss me?β
βYeah,β he says easily.
That catches you slightly off guard.
You try to play it off, turning back to the rack. βYouβre clingy today.β
βYouβre the one dragging me around.β
βYouβreΒ soΒ enjoying it.β
You pull out a couple of things, a skirt, a top, something youβre not even sure about, and hold them up against yourself in the mirror.
Joe watches from a few steps away, arms crossed loosely.
βThoughts for Coachella maybeβ¦if we decide to go?β you ask, turning slightly with a smile.
βThatβs not a thoughtΒ sir.β
βItβs a direction.β
βYouβre bossy.β You utter.
βJust helping.β He smiles.
You roll your eyes with a huff but head toward the changing area anyway.
The curtain barely closes properly, but you make it work.
You change quickly, then step out, doing a small spin.
And this time he doesnβt answer straight away.
βWoah, yeah,β he says slowly. βThatβs good.β
He steps a little closer. βBetter than good.β
βBetter?β You grin, disappearing back behind the curtain to change again.
A few outfits later, youβre laughing more, getting more comfortable, stepping out without even thinking twice.
Each time, his eyes linger a little longer and each time, his comments get a little less casual.
At some point, he disappears.
You donβt notice until he comes back holding something.
βWhatβs that?β you ask.
An olive green, somewhat fitted yet still flowy dress. Very beautiful nonetheless.
You raise an eyebrow. βYou picked this?β
βYouβll look good in it.β
βOh yeah? I donβt know, donβt really have an occasion for it.β You smile.
You take it, brushing past him slightly as you head back behind the curtain.
βDonβt get your hopes up,β you call out.
βTheyβre already up.β
You look at yourself for a second, adjusting it slightly, smoothing it down.
ββ¦okay,β you mutter to yourself.
You pull the curtain open just enough.
The space feels smaller with him in it.
You turn around, lifting your hair.
βCareful. Donβt rip the zip with your strong hands.β You joke.
βI wonβt.β He smiles back through the mirror.
His fingers find the zipper, light at first. Then steady as he pulls it up slowly.
You feel his hand brush your back as he finishes.
He doesnβt move away straight after, staying quiet.
You glance at him over your shoulder. βYou good?β
His eyes drop, taking you in properly now.
βYou look so beautiful baby.β
You smile slightly. βYeah you think so?β
You turn to face him fully.
Thereβs barely any space between you now.
βThank you. You picked it,β you remind him.
His hand finds your waist.
Slow, like heβs giving you time to stop him.
Your fingers drift up to his arm, then to the back of his neck without really thinking.
βYouβre staring,β you say.
He steps a little closer.
βTurn around again,β he says.
βLet me see it properly.β
You laugh softly but do it anyway, turning slowly.
You feel his hand brush lightly down your back, following the line of the zipper he just pulled up.
βYeah,β he says under his breath. βYouβre getting that.β
βI donβt even need it.β
βNo you definitely do.β
βJoeβ¦β you begin, looking up at him through the mirror.
βI wanna see you wear it again.β He reasons near your ear as his hands move up and down the fabric.
βBaby, you clearly like it. Let me buy it for you.β He replies.
You look back at him again, as he looks at your reflection in the mirror with his big puppy eyes you could never say no to.
βYouβre evil.β You utter.
He just smiles and leans in slowly.
Like heβs giving you every chance to pull away.
Your lips meet, soft at first, then warmer, closer.
Your fingers tighten slightly in his hair as his hand presses more firmly into your waist, pulling you in.
The curtain shifts slightly behind you, the outside noise faint but still there.
It makes it worse. Or better.
βYouβre gonna get us caught,β you whisper against his lips.
βWorth it,β he murmurs.
You laugh softly, but you kiss him again.
Then the music cuts through the shop.
You freeze for half a second.
Then your eyes widen with a gasp.
Joe barely pulls back, lips still brushing yours. βWhat?β
Your jaw drops. βYour song.β
It clicks for him a second later.
Basic being BasicΒ starts playing properly through the shop speakers.
You gasp dramatically again, grabbing his arm.
βBaby itβsβyour song is playing!β
He groans immediately, dropping his head slightly. βOh my god.β
You step back just enough to look at him properly, eyes lighting up, already mouthing the words as the intro plays.
You ignore him completely.
You start lip syncing, pointing at him like youβre putting on a full performance just for him.
βStopββ he says, laughing now, trying to grab your hands.
βNo,β you grin, dodging him slightly.Β
You keep going, dramatic, over the top, spinning slightly in the dress just to annoy him more.
He watches you for a second.
And something in his expression shifts again.
βYeah?β You tease, still mouthing the lyrics. βYou like this one?β
But heβs not looking at the performance anymore. Heβs looking at you.
You barely get through another line before his hands are back on you, pulling you in again.
βJoeββ you laugh, cutting yourself off.
βI donβt care,β he murmurs.
Like the song isnβt even playing.
You laugh into it, trying to keep lip syncing between kisses.
βYouβre missing your own song.β
βIβve heard it before.β
He cuts you off again, lips moving from yours to your jaw this time, slower, warmer.
βOhβokay.β You mumble, completely losing your rhythm.
The music keeps playing in the background.
You try to keep going, mouthing a few words, but it falls apart when his lips trail just slightly lower, brushing your neck.
βJoeβyour songββ you say again, weaker this time.
βYeah, yeah,β he murmurs against your skin, clearly not listening.
His hand slides along your side, pulling you closer again, like he forgot where you were for a second.
You let out a small laugh, head tipping back slightly.
He kisses your neck again.
You forget what you were saying.
You completely give up on performing.
βOkay, wow,β you breathe, fingers tightening in his hair. βYouβre actually ignoring your own music.β
βPriorities,β he says simply.
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