Hey everyone. I decided to make a sideblog for reblogging fics that I liked. So yeah. Here will be all the fics that I loved, I would recommend, and fics that I need to reread at least once.
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Just a little fic recs from my three favorite writer here.
- youtuber au from @oohgeminii
- jkcu fics from @riddlersoupwrites
- salvation from @insomniacpen
They're my fav Joe writers on tumblr. I'm always looking forward to read any of their work because they're always so fucking amazing.
If I have a good day and read from them, it gets better. If I have a bad day and I read from them, my day immediately gets better.
They're so so soo talented. I just really love their works. All of it, that I read so far. Their fics never disappoint. The ones I mentioned are just my personal favorites. But as I said probably a thousand times already, basically I love everything they write. So, I highly recommend all of their fics. Especially if you love Joe Keery and his characters.
the small chance we'd be together if i didn't push you out of the spotlight.
joe keery x reader
every letter in her name, every smile on her face, was the silver lining. what's there really left to say? I'm just thinking of the days we were fine.
- frances, rolemodel
val speaks - oh how i love u rm
you used to leave the kitchen light on.
just the small one above the sink. enough that when he walked in half-asleep, the room felt like it was waiting for him.
joe stands there now with the fridge door open, the cold air brushing against his bare arms. it’s late enough that the apartment building has gone quiet, no footsteps in the hall, no muffled tvs through the walls. just the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional car passing outside.
he stares at the shelves for a second too long.
you used to stand right there.
just leaning against the counter, one hip pressed into it, watching him dig around like he had no idea what food actually looked like.
you’d always laugh eventually.
soft, tired, like you’d already known exactly what he was going to do.
“you’ve looked at the same yogurt four times” you’d say.
and he’d glance back at you, pretending to be offended. “i’m deciding.”
“you’re staring.”
and then you’d walk over, take the yogurt out of his hand, peel the lid back for him like he was incapable of basic tasks. sometimes you’d steal the first bite too.
he closes the fridge.
the apartment feels bigger without you. not physically, just… emptier in places that used to feel full without him noticing.
joe moves through the living room, running a hand through his hair. scripts are spread across the coffee table, half-highlighted. his phone buzzes with some notification he doesn’t check.
he sinks down onto the couch.
for a while he just sits there.
there’s a memory that keeps looping lately. not a big one. not some grand moment. just a night out at some club he barely remembers the name of.
you loved dancing.
not the kind where people watch you. you didn’t care about that. you’d just pull him into the middle of the crowd like nothing else existed.
the lights flashing over your face.
strobe lights breaking everything into little moments. your smile appearing and disappearing, your hair catching the light, your hands wrapped around his wrists while you dragged him closer.
he hadn’t been much of a dancer.
you knew that.
still, you’d grin up at him like it didn’t matter.
like he was the most interesting person in the room just for standing there.
“c’mon, keery,” you’d say, tugging his hands. “live a little.”
he can still see the way you looked under those lights.
amazing was the only word his brain ever really landed on.
not in a polished, perfect way. you just had this energy about you. like you were having the best time of your life no matter where you were.
even if it was some packed room with sticky floors and music that was too loud.
you’d lean into him eventually, arms draped over his shoulders, breath warm against his ear.
and sometimes, usually when you’d had a drink or two, you’d tilt your head back and look at him like he’d done something impressive just by existing.
“you know you’re handsome, right?” you’d say casually.
like it was obvious.
like it wasn’t something he’d ever been unsure about.
joe presses his thumb against the edge of the couch cushion now.
you used to say things like that all the time.
random compliments slipped into conversations that had nothing to do with anything.
while brushing your teeth.
while sitting in traffic.
while walking past a mirror.
“you look good today.”
“you’re cute when you’re concentrating”
“seriously, you’re unfairly handsome.”
you’d say it so casually it never felt like flattery.
just truth.
he remembers how easy it felt back then.
coming home and finding you sprawled across the couch with one of his hoodies pulled over your knees.
running errands together that somehow turned into an hour of wandering through stores you didn’t need to be in.
the way you’d grab his hand without thinking when you crossed the street.
like it was automatic.
like of course you belonged there.
joe exhales slowly.
it’s weird how the small things are what stick.
washing dishes.
late-night grocery runs.
you stealing fries off his plate.
he stands up and walks to the sink.
there’s one glass sitting there from earlier. he turns the faucet on, watches the water run over his hands while he rinses it.
another memory slips in.
you standing beside him, sleeves pushed up, soap bubbles all over your hands.
you’d always insist on helping even when there were only two things to wash.
“this is inefficient” he’d tell you.
“this is bonding” you’d respond.
you’d bump your hip into his just to make him smile.
he dries the glass and sets it in the rack.
the apartment is quiet again.
joe leans back against the counter, staring toward the dark living room.
you had this way of making everything feel… full.
like the air had more weight to it when you were around. like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you and that was enough.
you used to look at him like he was the only man in the world.
not because he was famous.
not because of anything impressive.
just because he was joe.
back then he didn’t think much about it.
didn’t think about how rare that kind of thing was.
his career started picking up. schedules got busier. meetings, flights, press, scripts.
you were always patient about it.
always understanding.
he’d come home late and you’d still be there on the couch waiting, asking about his day like it mattered more than anything else.
and maybe that’s why he never really noticed when he started pushing you further and further out of the center of things.
not intentionally.
just… absentmindedly.
work first.
calls first.
travel first.
he rubs the back of his neck.
lately the memories have been showing up more often.
little flashes of you in everyday places.
in the kitchen.
in the car.
joe exhales quietly.
he runs a hand over his face and pushes away from the counter.
the apartment is still.
and somewhere between the silence and the memories, there’s this faint, uncomfortable feeling starting to settle in his chest.
not fully formed yet.
just the beginning of a thought he hasn’t quite let himself finish.
he turns off the kitchen light.
for a second he almost leaves the small one above the sink on.
like you used to.
but after a pause, he switches that one off too.
-
the thing about you was that you never felt separate from his life.
you slipped into it so easily that after a while no one even remembered what it looked like before.
his family definitely didn’t.
joe’s mom had liked you the first time she met you. not in a polite parent way, the kind where they smile and ask questions but keep their distance, she’d actually liked you.
you had shown up at their house with this slightly nervous smile and a bottle of wine you kept apologising for bringing.
“i didn’t know if you guys drank this kind” you’d said.
his mom had laughed immediately. the kind of laugh that meant the tension in the room disappeared right away.
by the end of dinner you were sitting cross-legged on the kitchen chair telling some story about getting lost on the subway once, and his dad was shaking his head like you’d already been around for years.
it just… stuck after that.
you came on family trips without anyone making a big deal about it.
weekends at the lake where everyone piled into the car too early in the morning. you in the backseat with joe, your head resting against the window while he tried to keep you awake with stupid commentary about billboards.
“look,” he’d whisper dramatically. “another gas station.”
you’d groan and shove his shoulder but you were smiling.
there were afternoons walking the dogs through trails near the house, the leash tangled around your wrist because the dog kept pulling ahead. you never seemed to mind.
you’d just laugh and jog to keep up.
sometimes joe would hang back a little just to watch you from behind. hair messy from the wind, talking to the dog like it could understand every word.
like you’d always belonged there.
and the nights were the best ones.
warm evenings in the backyard, those tall cans sweating on the table while the sun disappeared behind the trees.
music playing quietly from someone’s phone.
his dad would tell long stories that drifted in and out of sense, and you’d listen like they were the most interesting thing you’d ever heard.
you’d lean your head against joe’s shoulder while everyone talked around you.
you always did that.
little touches like you needed to make sure he was still there.
at the time he thought it would always be like that.
like the whole thing was permanent.
like you were just… part of the structure of his life now.
joe rubs his hands over his face now, sitting on the edge of his childhood bed.
the room hasn’t changed much.
same posters on the walls. same old dresser with the slightly crooked drawer.
he hadn’t meant to end up back here.
not like that.
but the night you left, there hadn’t been anywhere else to go.
he remembers the argument too clearly.
you weren’t yelling.
that was the worst part.
you were sitting across from him on the couch, hands folded together like you were trying to keep them steady.
and you kept saying the same thing in different ways.
that you felt invisible.
that every time something important came up in his life, you somehow ended up outside of it.
press events.
interviews.
photos.
decisions.
joe had gotten defensive almost immediately.
“that’s not fair” he’d said.
because in his head it wasn’t.
he worked hard. his career was finally moving. everything was busy and complicated and fast.
he thought you understood that.
you had always said you did.
but that night you just looked tired.
“i’m not asking to be your career,” you’d said quietly. “i just don’t want to feel like i’m something you tuck away when it’s convenient.”
he remembers how frustrating that felt in the moment.
how he crossed his arms, leaning back like the whole conversation was unreasonable.
“that’s not what i’m doing.”
you didn’t argue.
you just nodded slowly like you’d expected that answer.
and then after a long silence you said something that made his stomach twist even now.
“joe… when was the last time you chose me first?”
he hadn’t had an answer.
not a good one, anyway.
so instead he got angry.
not shouting, not throwing things. just that sharp kind of anger that sits under every word.
“so what, you’re just leaving?” he’d asked.
like the idea was ridiculous.
like the years you’d spent together should automatically stop that from happening.
you looked at him for a long time after that.
and the worst part was how sad your face was.
“i think i already have” you said.
when you walked out, the apartment felt unfamiliar.
like someone had moved all the furniture while he wasn’t paying attention.
joe had stayed there for maybe an hour after.
walking from room to room.
waiting for the door to open again.
it didn’t.
so eventually he left too.
didn’t really think about where he was going until he was already halfway there.
his parents’ house had the porch light on.
his mom opened the door before he even knocked properly.
“joe?”
and that was it.
all the anger that had been sitting tight in his chest cracked open the second she said his name.
he hated that he cried.
really cried.
the kind where you can’t even get words out properly.
his mom pulled him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table like she used to when he was a kid.
she didn’t ask too many questions.
just waited.
he remembers saying your name over and over between broken explanations.
saying you’d left.
saying he didn’t understand how you could just walk away like that.
after everything.
he’d been angry at you then, for a little while.
lying awake in his old room thinking about how unfair it felt.
how you should have tried harder.
how you should have stayed.
but that version of the story only worked when he was thinking about himself.
these days, sitting here again months later, it feels different.
because when he replays the conversation in his head, something keeps sticking out.
that question.
when was the last time you chose me first?
joe stares down at his hands.
all the moments where being together had felt so normal it never occurred to him that it could disappear.
there had always been a small chance you two would make it forever.
he sees that now.
not guaranteed.
not automatic.
just a chance.
and somewhere along the way, without even realising it, he’d started pushing you further and further away from the center of everything.
pushing you out of the spotlight of his life.
like you were something that could wait.
something that would always still be there when he looked back.
joe leans back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling of his childhood room.
his chest tightens a little.
because now he understands something he didn’t let himself see before.
that small chance you two had?
it might’ve been enough if he hadn’t been the one slowly closing the door on it the whole time.
-
it’s early evening when he ends up at the park near his parents’ house. the air smells like damp earth and pine, that cool kind of quiet that only happens when winter is just starting to loosen its grip.
he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and walks slowly down the trail.
the trees are tall here.
you loved that.
he can hear your voice in his head so clearly it almost feels like you’re walking beside him again.
“these ones are perfect climbing trees.”
you’d said that the first time he brought you here. not in a joking way either, completely serious, already scanning the branches like you were planning something.
he’d laughed at you.
“you’re not climbing that.”
you turned around immediately, eyebrows raised.
“watch me.”
and you did.
before he could even finish protesting you’d already grabbed onto the lowest branch and swung yourself up with surprising ease.
he remembers standing there with his hands half-raised like he was supposed to catch you if something went wrong.
you just sat on the branch like it was the most natural thing in the world, legs dangling while the wind moved through the trees.
“see?” you called down to him. “perfect.”
joe smiles faintly at the memory now.
you always did things like that.
little bursts of energy that made ordinary days feel different.
the sky is darker by the time he circles back toward the open field.
a pale moon is already visible above the treeline.
another memory slides in before he can stop it.
you dancing again.
not in a crowded room this time.
just outside, late at night, music drifting quietly while everyone else sat around talking.
you had gotten up suddenly, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the group.
“c’mon” you said.
“where?”
“just come with me.”
you dragged him out into the open part of the yard where the grass was damp and the air smelled like summer.
moonlight catching the edges of your hair.
you started swaying a little, half laughing at yourself.
“there’s no music” he pointed out.
you shrugged.
“then hum something.”
he didn’t.
he just watched you for a moment, the quiet of the night wrapping around the two of you.
you looked beautiful like that.
when midnight rolled around that night you’d slowed down, stepping closer to him until your hands rested lightly against his chest.
“what?” you asked when you noticed him staring.
“nothing.”
but it wasn’t nothing.
joe had leaned down, pressing a kiss just below your ear.
you tilted your head automatically, like you already knew exactly where his mouth would land next.
that was the thing about the two of you.
you knew each other.
not just in the obvious ways.
every small reaction.
every quiet signal.
where your fingers would curl into his shirt when he kissed you deeper.
how his hand would slide instinctively to the small of your back.
like your bodies had spent enough time together to memorise the map.
joe exhales slowly, sitting down on the wooden bench at the edge of the field.
the cold seeps through the fabric of his jeans but he doesn’t move.
there were nights where the world narrowed down to just that closeness.
your legs tangled with his on the couch.
your laugh muffled against his shoulder.
the way you’d look at him sometimes like you couldn’t quite believe he was real.
he’s pretty sure no one could ever make him feel like that again.
not because other people wouldn’t try.
just because it had been you.
and there was something about you that fit into the spaces of his life too perfectly.
like everything lined up without effort.
joe leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.
he thinks about your name.
how it used to light up his phone screen constantly.
texts at random times of the day.
look at this dog i saw.
guess what i just did.
miss you.
every letter of it had felt important somehow.
every smile you gave him felt like proof that the day was worth something.
you had been the silver lining in places he didn’t even realise were cloudy.
the steady thing when everything else got busy.
what’s really left to say about something like that?
he rubs a hand over his face.
the truth is, most nights he just ends up thinking about the days when things were fine.
joe tilts his head back, looking up at the sky.
a few stars are visible between the branches.
he remembers a promise he made once.
late at night, lying beside you with your head resting against his arm.
you’d been talking about something serious, he doesn’t even remember what now, but at some point you’d looked up at him with that soft expression you got when you were being honest.
“just promise me something,” you said.
“what?”
“don’t be the person who hurts me.”
he had answered immediately.
of course he did.
“i’d never hurt you.”
it felt easy to say at the time.
like the kind of promise that would naturally keep itself.
joe closes his eyes for a moment.
somewhere above him a branch shifts in the wind.
if there were such a thing as lucky stars, he thinks he’d spend every single one wishing for the same thing.
to go back.
to those simple days when everything between you felt steady and bright.
to the version of himself who hadn’t been so distracted by everything else.
the version who understood how rare you were.
maybe then he would have held on tighter.
maybe then he would have kept that promise.
and maybe something as good as you wouldn’t have slipped quietly out of his life while he was busy thinking it would always stay.
Alright... this broke my heart. Made me cry. But I loved it anyway. It was perfect. Like all of @oohgeminii 's work that I read so far. Highly recommend her fics.
I need a part 2 for this fic where Joe apologizes. It's a need.
how do you think joes characters would be if they were in the mood, and reader rejects them… like she’s not in the mood in the slightest
Yayyy more jkcu requests I love writing these🫶
Masterlist.
Incl: Gator, Keys, Kurt, Travis, Steve and Baron.
I hate to say it but Gator is a sulker. He won't be annoyed at you, but at himself. "What? I showered." And "will you at least jerk me off then?" When you snap at him he shuts up, lying next to you in bed and huffing, his hand will still rest on your thigh though. He's not good at differentiating when he's annoyed at you and when he's annoyed at himself, so it comes across like he's mad at you. If you confront him, he'll try to explain but get even more upset at himself. He never learned how to communicate. Eventually he'll roll to face you though, "you just make me horny. Sorry." He'll say, trying to push his way under your arm so you'll cuddle him.
Keys is sweet about it. "Sorry honey, no problem." He says, kissing your cheek and resting his head on your shoulder. He'll lace his fingers through yours and make sure you're okay. "Is there any reason or are you just not in the mood?" He'll ask about your day to see if you're stressed, or annoyed about something, or if you've been looking after yourself, eating and drinking enough ect. If you're simply just not in the mood, he'll cuddle and watch videos on your phone, or suggest a movie or something, because all he wanted was to spend time with you anyway.
Kurt instantly thinks he's fucked everything up. "Wh- why? Like, did I do something?" He panics slightly, sitting opposite you with his heart thumping in his chest, convinced that you don't love him anymore, that you're going to leave him, and that he did something so awful that you don't even want to touch him anymore. When you tell him you're just not in the mood, he still thinks it's a him issue. "Do i- do you want me to shower?" You end up having to explain to him that you do still love him, you do still want to be with him, and you do still want to have sex with him. Just not right now. He finally gets it, apologises, and suggests watching a show or playing a game together.
Travis turns it into a joke, self depreciating of course. "Yeah I wouldn't wanna fuck me either, I still haven't showered since before work yesterday." He laughs, resting his head on your stomach and pulling your legs over his shoulders, gently massaging your calves. Starts telling you about his day and he's forgotten about the rejection within five minutes.
Steve wants to make sure that you're okay. Similar to Keys in the way that he'll want to make sure you're okay, he'll want to make sure there's nothing going on that's upsetting you, or he's not upset you in any way. "If I've not pissed you off, hiding those boobies from me is just mean." He'll joke, and apologise when you shoot him a glare, he just wanted to make you laugh. He'll suggest you go out to do something instead, go drive around, or get fast food or go to the diner. Something out of the house to distract you both.
Baron just moves on, kisses your temple and goes back to whatever you were doing before. "You're okay though?" He makes sure, once you're settled back into reading, or cooking, or whatever it was you were doing. He'll nod when you say you're fine and just not in the mood, and offer to do something productive for you, like prepping something for dinner, or running you a bath, something to take that invisible pressure off your shoulders.
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started watching spree and can't get that scene of london joining him in the front seat out of my head. the way his breath gets shifty, him adjusting his seat back, her reaching out...
I cannot be the only one who can't stop thinking about making him that flustered
I also think about flustered, nervous Kurt very often and I love writing him. Thank you for the ask! Requests are always open for this silly little guy 🫶
Masterlist.
Kurt Kunkle x Fem! Reader
wc- 1.6K
Kurt's whole body went still when your text popped up on his phone. He was on his way to pick up another spree passenger, working a Friday night just to keep himself busy and paid with all the drunk idiots that needed to get themselves home. He'd known you forever, you were Bobby's older sister, a year or two younger than himself. He'd always had a crush on you, you were kind, sweet and so so pretty, and when you were free, you always sent him messages in his streams, or liked his videos on YouTube.
You: are u working tonight?
Kurt pulled his phone from its mount, and stopped his car at the side of the road. He cancelled the ride and opened up your message. His thumbs flew over the screen.
Kurt: Just dropped someone off
Kurt: why?
Kurt: What's up?
He swallowed, staring at his screen, his fingers tapping on the side of his phone as he waited for you to reply.
You: at the bar, need to go home, if I order a spree will you pick it up
You: or does it not work like that
You: idk I've had some drinks
His teeth sank into his bottom lip as his thumbs hovered over the screen as his brain buffered, you wanted to pay him to give you a lift home. You were too sweet.
Kurt: you don't need to order one
Kurt: where are you?
Kurt: I'll come get you.
You: at the tiger
Kurt: the blind tiger?
You: yeah
Kurt: okay
Kurt: on my way
You: thank youuu
Kurt pulled back onto the road, his heart racing in his chest as he drove the few blocks towards the bar where you were waiting for him. He fumbled with the glovebox and pulled out some body spray, dousing himself in it before shoving it back in and slamming the glovebox closed.
He pulled up at the curb and shoved two pieces of chewing gum into his mouth as he looked out of the window to try and spot you.
It didn't take him long. You were standing by the door, wearing a cute black t-shirt and denim skirt, black boots with a black, oversized leather jacket. He'd seen you in this outfit before, it was one of his favourites. He waved through the windscreen when you looked up and watched as you smiled, waved back, and then skipped over to the car.
You got into the passenger seat, not the back, and Kurt smiled at you nervously. He'd never known how to act around you, never known whether to try his hand at flirting. But knowing him, it would come out wrong, and you'd hate him forever.
“Are you sure you don't want money?” You asked, leaning slightly towards him as you pulled off your jacket, he caught the scent of your sweet perfume, and whatever you'd been drinking. And shifted in his seat, trying to look as casual as possible.
“Nah, no. It's cool, I was gonna he- um, head home anyway.” He lied, he had intended to keep driving until around 2am, but taking money from you seemed wrong.
“You sure? It's like a thirty minute drive.” You said buckling yourself in and turning towards him. He met your eyes for a moment before he remembered he was supposed to drive and put the car into gear.
“Yeah, yeah I don't do this just for like, money anyway.” He said, pulling out onto the road. “And we're, like, we're.. friends.” He said, his voice a little tentative.
You laughed softly, resting your head back against the seat, watching as he drove. His eyes flicked between you and the road. “Yeah, we're friends, Kurt.” You said, giggling slightly.
He could tell you weren't sober, not completely drunk, just in that nice, hazy, tipsy stage. “Did you, um, did you have a good night?” He asked, adjusting in his seat, trying to act relaxed when he felt anything but calm around you.
“It was alright.” You said, not taking your eyes off him. He nodded, the hair on the back of his neck prickling under the weight of your gaze.
“What?” He asked eventually, wiping his hand over his jaw, “I got something on me?” He laughed nervously, soft and breathy.
“I don't know.” You said, reaching out towards his face. His breath hitched as your fingers brushed against his skin, your nails grazing his jaw gently. “Oh, it's just a mole.” You said, dropping your hand and laughing softly, “sorry.”
He let out another nervous huff, shifting in his seat as his eyes flicked to you for a split second. “No that's- nah. It's fine.” He said, his voice a little tighter than before.
He cleared his throat, leaning back into his seat, his knee bouncing slightly with anxious energy as you still wouldn't take your eyes off him. “Wha-”
“Have you been working out?” You said, accidentally cutting him off, and he almost swerved off the road, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.
“What?” He asked, the pitch of his voice had risen, and he cleared his throat, his knee still bouncing. His neck was almost completely red from blushing.
“You look, like, broader.” You say, gesturing across your own shoulders to demonstrate what you mean.
“It's the hoodie.” He said, clearing his throat again, and now completely refusing to look at you.
“It's nice.” You said, reaching out without thinking to feel the fabric of his blue hoodie over his arm.
Kurt made another noise, one that sounded a little choked, but he turned it into another breathy laugh. You dropped your hand back into your lap, and rolled your head to look out of the window. Only when he was absolutely certain you weren't looking at him, did he risk another glance at you.
Which was a mistake, because you looked incredible. The edge of your skirt digging into your thighs, the line of your jaw tilted as your eyes followed the passing lights. He looked away quickly.
“Why are you always working?” You asked, looking at him again. He shrugged, staring out at the road.
“Keeps me busy.” He muttered, his hands were still tight on the wheel.
“You don't wanna go out? Go on a date or something? You'd rather be driving strangers around on a Friday night?”
He scoffed, “a date? Are you- no.” He shifted in his seat again, his fingers drumming against the wheel restlessly.
“Aw, why not?” You giggled. “You're cute, you could get a date.”
He almost hit a parked car.
“What?” He said, his voice had gone tight again, his eyes flicking to you before focusing on the road, chewing on his bottom lip.
“I said you're cute, you could get a-”
“Yeah, no I heard you.” He said, clearing his throat again, shaking his head slightly. “You don't have to say that ‘cause I'm doing you a favour.”
“I'm not!” You said, your head still resting against the seat as your eyes trailed his profile, his nose, his mouth, the adorable little moles over his skin.
His skin flushed pink under your gaze, his knee bounced faster, the body spray and chewing gum did nothing to mask the anxiety he had from being around you.
“Why are you so nervous?” You asked, the alcohol removing that usual filter you had between your brain and your mouth.
“I'm not nervous.” He lied, his eyes darting over the street signs, his knuckles white around the wheel.
“Uh-huh.” You hummed in disbelief, smiling slightly. “You're cute when you're nervous.”
His foot slipped on the accelerator, “shit,” he breathed as he regained control. This was absolute torture.
You watched his reaction and decided to test the waters, hoping that you were right in your assumption that you were the one making him nervous.
“Y’know, when we were kids I had like, the biggest crush on you.” You said.
He made that choked off, nervous laugh sound again and shook his head. “You're lying.”
“Used to write down your name and draw little hearts around it in my journal.”
Kurt looked at you then when he pulled up to a red light, his mouth open slightly, his hands tight, his leg bouncing. “You're drunk.” He said, trying to justify your words to himself.
“I'm not that drunk, I know what I'm saying.” You said, holding his eyes until a car beeped behind him, and he jumped before driving forwards.
He drove in stunned silence, not sure if you were fucking with him or not, but too nervous to ask, in case you were, and he got his own heart broken.
“Kurt.” You said after a long moment, and he glanced at you, then back to the road, like looking at you too long would cause him to implode.
“Yeah?” He asked, his voice strained.
You exhaled, leaning back against the seat again, your eyes tracing over his hands. “Did you ever have a crush on me?” You asked. “When we were kids.”
“Uh.” He said, his voice shaky as he took one of the final turns towards your apartment. “Y- yeah.” He said finally, refusing to look at you. “When we were kids.”
You hummed in acknowledgement, watching the window until the car rolled to a stop. He glanced over at you just as you rolled your head to meet his eyes. You looked at him for a long moment, his cute, puppy eyes, his big soft hoodie. Then you unclipped your seatbelt.
“Thanks, Kurt.” You said, and he nodded, smiling slightly.
He went completely still when you leaned closer and kissed his cheek. Like his brain completely short-circuited.
Then you were gone, closing the door gently behind you before heading into your apartment building. His heart racing, his eyes wide.
He brought up his hand, fingers brushing the spot you had kissed reverently. He sat outside for way too long before driving away ten miles under the speed limit.
Because safety is important when your heart is going ninety.
This is perfect. Absolutely amazing. A masterpiece. I loved this fic soo much. Also, @riddlersoupwrites writes Kurt soo well. That's insane. Obviously, all of her Kurt fics are good but this one's my personal fav Kurt fic from her.
If you love Kurt, or any of Joe's characters you should check out her blog.
summary: tillmans. all they do is ruin lives. five years ago, roy tillman ruined yours and left you to pick up the broken pieces of your family. one night, your anger gets the best of you and you venture out to get revenge. only problem is, gator tillman catches you. you never expected to see underneath the steel facade of the sheriff’s first born son. but you do. you never expected that he would recognize your rage as years of grief. but he does. you save each other in the only way you know how. sweat soaked sheets, apologies whispered against skin, gripping to each other till it bruises. salvation isn't real and yet, it's starting to feel like it could be. but you could never love a tillman. all they do is ruin lives.
tags: 18+ mdni, enemies with benefits to lovers, ANGST, hurt/comfort, kinda toxic relationship dynamics (because it’s gator duh), slowburn (emotionally), swearing non-stop, mentions of childhood trauma and graphic depictions of abuse, heavy plot driven smut, biblical allusions and blasphemy?, takes place in a universe where the main events of fargo s5 don't happen
I loved this. This Gator series is a masterpiece. The best that I read so far. I can't even describe how amazing this was. It made me feel so many things at the same time. It was just perfect. I definitely need to reread this.
So, if you love Gator, and you love enemies to lovers fics... you have to read this. But actually, you should check out @insomniacpen 's blog because all of her fics are amazing and it’s really really worth it to read it.
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