please please please a fic where joe and actress!reader are dating and he is jealous bc people are shipping her with her co-star??
GRUMPY
joe keery x reader
desc - joe gets a little jealous
val speaks - thanku for this request !! hope u like :))
you don’t realise how tired you are until the front door finally clicks shut behind you.
the apartment smells the same, faint coffee, clean laundry, something warm and familiar that instantly makes the past few weeks of airports and hotel rooms feel unreal. your suitcase drops beside the wall with a dull thud, and for a second you just stand there, letting the quiet settle around you.
then you hear footsteps.
“hello…?”
joe’s voice is careful, like he almost doesn’t want to believe you’re actually there yet.
you turn, and he’s already halfway down the hallway, hair messy, wearing an old t-shirt you’re pretty sure used to belong to you. there’s a pause, half a second where both of you just look at each other, taking it in and then he pulls you into him.
it’s immediate and tight and real in a way facetime never is. his arms wrap around your waist, your face pressed into his chest, and you feel him exhale like he’s been holding his breath for weeks.
“god,” he murmurs into your hair, “i missed you.”
you laugh softly, muffled against him. “i was gone for three weeks, not three years.”
“felt longer.”
he doesn’t let go right away. neither do you. the world slows down, the constant noise of press junkets and interviews finally replaced by something steady. his hand slides up your back, absentminded, grounding, like he just needs to make sure you’re actually here.
when you pull back, he studies your face. “you look exhausted.”
“i am exhausted,” you admit. “i think i answered the same question about my character’s ‘emotional journey’ like forty times.”
he grins. “did you give forty different deep actor answers?”
“obviously. i’m committed to the craft.”
he laughs, and it feels easy. familiar rhythm snapping back into place without effort. he grabs your suitcase before you can protest, dragging it toward the bedroom while asking about flights, premieres, the chaos of international press. you trail behind him, watching the way he moves around the apartment like he’s been waiting to share it with you again.
later, you end up curled together on the couch, takeout containers open on the coffee table because neither of you feels like cooking. your legs are tangled over his lap, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles against your ankle while you talk about funny interview moments and wardrobe mishaps.
he listens closely, smiling at the right parts, but mostly he just looks relieved. every so often he glances at you like he’s still confirming you didn’t disappear again.
by the time midnight creeps in, you’re barely awake, head resting against his shoulder.
“come on,” he says gently. “bed.”
you mumble something unintelligible, but let him guide you down the hallway anyway. you change quickly, exhausted enough that everything feels slow and soft around the edges. when you climb into bed, he follows, pulling you close without hesitation, your back against his chest.
it feels natural, like muscle memory.
“no alarm tomorrow” he murmurs.
“thank god.”
his arm tightens slightly around your waist, and within minutes your breathing evens out. the last thing you feel is him pressing a quiet kiss against your shoulder.
-
joe doesn’t fall asleep right away.
he reaches for his phone, mostly out of habit, scrolling mindlessly through notifications. clips from your press tour are everywhere now, interviews, red carpet moments, behind-the-scenes videos fans have stitched together.
he smiles at first, proud more than anything. you look happy, confident, glowing in a way he knows comes from loving the work you do.
then he notices the comments.
your name paired with your co-star’s.
he frowns slightly, scrolling further. there are slow-motion clips of you laughing together during interviews, headlines joking about “undeniable chemistry,” fans dissecting every shared glance like it means something more.
he knows how this works. he’s been in the industry long enough to understand shipping culture, fan narratives, harmless speculation.
still, something uncomfortable settles in his chest.
another post pops up, side-by-side photos, captions about how good you two look together. thousands of likes.
joe glances over at you asleep beside him, hair falling across your face, completely unaware of any of it. your hand is still loosely curled into his shirt like you grabbed it in your sleep.
he exhales slowly, locking his phone and setting it face down on the nightstand.
it’s stupid, he tells himself. part of the job. nothing new.
but the thought lingers anyway. the idea of strangers watching moments that belonged to your work and turning them into something personal.
his arm tightens around you instinctively, pulling you a little closer.
you shift slightly but don’t wake, settling back against him.
after a moment, the tension in his shoulders eases. he presses his forehead lightly against the back of your head, grounding himself in something real instead of whatever exists online.
“love you” he whispers, quieter this time, mostly to himself.
and eventually, with you warm and steady beside him, he finally falls asleep too.
-
morning comes slowly.
you wake first, sunlight leaking through the curtains in thin gold lines, the apartment quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside. joe is still asleep beside you, one arm thrown across your waist, hair sticking up in every direction. for a moment you just watch him, feeling that soft kind of happiness that only shows up when things are calm again.
being home feels lighter.
you carefully slide out of bed without waking him and wander into the kitchen, starting coffee mostly by instinct. your phone buzzes on the counter, messages from friends, clips from interviews, tagged photos from the press tour still circulating online.
you scroll absentmindedly while waiting for the kettle.
a few edits pop up. you and your co-star laughing during an interview, leaning close to hear each other over a loud crowd. dramatic music layered over slow-motion cuts. comments full of heart emojis and theories.
you roll your eyes a little, locking your phone. it’s harmless. weird, but harmless. people always do this.
by the time joe walks into the kitchen, you’re leaning against the counter sipping coffee.
“morning” you say softly.
he nods, but it’s quieter than usual. he presses a quick kiss to your temple before grabbing a mug, movements slightly tense. you notice it immediately, the way he avoids eye contact, the way his jaw stays tight even though nothing’s happened.
“you okay?” you ask.
“yeah. just tired.”
but his tone is short, clipped. not angry exactly. just… off.
you let it go at first. jet lag, maybe. you’ve both been busy, schedules weird, sleep messed up. still, the mood lingers through the morning. he scrolls on his phone more than usual, barely reacting when you tell a story halfway through breakfast.
later on in the day, you sit across from him, frowning slightly. “did i do something?”
his head snaps up. “what- no.”
“you’re being weird.”
he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. for a second it looks like he won’t say anything, but then the words slip out before he can stop them.
“it’s just… all that stuff online.”
you blink. “what stuff?”
he gives a small, humorless laugh and turns his phone toward you. another clip paused mid-frame. you and your co-star during a red carpet interview, smiling at each other.
“this stuff,” he says. “it’s everywhere.”
you stare at the screen, then back at him. “joe… it’s just fans.”
“i know that,” he says quickly, but there’s frustration underneath. “i know how it works. i just-” he stops himself, shaking his head. “forget it. it’s stupid.”
his chair scrapes lightly as he stands, pacing once across the kitchen. the tension in the room grows thicker, confusing and uncomfortable.
“hey” you say gently, “you know none of that means anything, right?”
“yeah” he says again, but this time it sounds sharper. “i said i know.”
the words sting a little more than he probably intends. you go quiet, unsure how to respond. he notices immediately, guilt flashing across his face, but instead of fixing it he just exhales hard, frustrated with himself.
“i just need some air,” he mutters, grabbing his jacket. “i’m gonna take a walk or something.”
the door closes before you can really answer.
the apartment feels too quiet afterward.
you sit there for a while, replaying the conversation in your head. you know he didn’t mean to snap. joe rarely gets openly jealous, and when he does it usually means something’s actually bothering him more than he wants to admit.
still, it hurts a little.
after a few minutes, you stand up and wander into the kitchen again. doing something feels better than sitting with it.
the fridge isn’t exactly stocked after weeks away. you find a microwave pasta meal shoved toward the back, slightly questionable but still within date. you smile faintly, not impressive, not romantic, just easy. very you.
you heat it anyway, plating it properly instead of leaving it in the container, adding the last of some grated cheese on top like it somehow makes it more intentional. you even light one of the small candles you keep near the window, mostly because the apartment feels cold without him.
by the time joe comes back, the sky has shifted toward evening.
the door opens slowly. his shoulders look looser, but his expression is tired, the kind that comes from thinking too much.
he stops when he sees you standing in the kitchen.
and then he notices the plate on the table.
“…did you make dinner?”
you shrug a little. “microwave pasta. don’t get excited.”
he lets out a quiet breath, something in his face softening immediately. guilt settles there instead.
“you didn’t have to do that.”
“i wanted to,” you say simply. then, after a small pause, softer, “… you were grumpy.”
his mouth twitches despite himself.
he steps closer, looking at you properly now. “i’m sorry,” he says, voice low. “i wasn’t mad at you. i just… got in my own head.”
you lean against the counter. “i figured.”
he rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with himself. “seeing all that stuff, people talking like they know you, like they know us, it just got under my skin. and then i took it out on you, which is… really not fair.”
you shake your head gently. “joe.”
he steps closer until he’s right in front of you, eyes soft but serious.
“you’re the only one,” you say quietly before he can keep spiraling. “you know that, right? press tours are work. interviews are work. i come home to you.”
the tension leaves him all at once. his shoulders drop, relief mixing with embarrassment.
“yeah,” he murmurs. “i know. i just forget sometimes. i get… weird.”
“grumpy” you correct lightly.
he laughs under his breath. “yeah. grumpy.”
his hands settle on your waist, hesitant at first, like he’s checking if you’re upset. when you don’t pull away, he relaxes completely, pulling you into a slow hug.
“you’re literally perfect,” he mumbles into your hair. “and i still managed to be a jerk today.”
“minor jerk,” you say. “not full jerk.”
“thank you for the distinction.”
you feel him smile against your shoulder, arms tightening around you.
after a moment he pulls back just enough to look at you again, softer now, calmer. “thanks for waiting for me to stop being an idiot.”
you nod toward the table. “eat your gourmet dinner before it gets cold.”
he laughs properly this time, the heaviness finally gone, and presses a quick kiss to your forehead before sitting down.
the apartment feels warm again like the small storm passed without really breaking anything.
and when he reaches for your hand across the table while eating, absentmindedly holding onto you, you know he’s already letting it go.
