your friendly neighbourhood coworker | spiderman!keys
can’t stop thinking about spidey keys and @keeryspullman made me a little feral over it with this post
you had walked home from the office perhaps a million times before and you figured that the walk home was pretty safe. that was until some asshole tried to rob you down the alley two blocks away from your apartment.
“hand it over, lady,” the guy yells at you as he attempts to wrench your handbag from your arm. “or i’ll—”
but whatever he would do—you never find out. because he was cut off by a flash of red and blue and suddenly—the guy was flat on his back on the asphalt.
because of course fucking spiderman had come to save you.
you blink, your heart still pounding as adrenaline rushes through you. it takes a few seconds before you even register your name was being said.
wait—how did—
“—are you okay? oh god, please say you’re—”
“keys?” you gap, looking at the masked man who was stood in front of you in a state of utter disbelief. “keys? is that you?”
you recognised that voice. because of course you did—keys mckey was the guy who sat directly opposite your desk every day, the guy who had memorised your coffee order and the one who always dropped everything to help you.
‘spiderman’ seems to swallow before shakes his head quickly. too quickly.
“what kind of name is keys?” he asks in a suddenly very thick brooklyn accent that he didn’t have moments ago. “i’m not—”
he’s quick to grab your bag from your attacker’s—who seemed to be knocked out cold—hand before holding it out for you to take.
“take care of yourself, miss,” he tells you in that same, clearly fake accent and before you could even think of a reply, he’s already swinging away—leaving you lost for words. because you could have sworn that was the voice of your sweet and quiet coworker.
while under the mask, keys mckey was blushing while cursing himself for being so careless with his rather big secret.
pairing: steve harrington x reader
summary: after a bad breakup, you start therapy to fix your intimacy issues. your new therapist, steve harrington, is younger than expected and far too way attractive. what starts as professional help slowly turns into something more complicated and probably forbidden.
wc: 8.9k
warnings: porn with plot, +18 (minors do not interact), explicit nsfw, therapist / client relationship, thigh riding, cheating mention, fingering, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, dirty talk, female masturbation, semi-public if you squint, internal conflict, p in v, consensual sex, kinda forbidden sex, big dick steve.
author's note: hihiii sorry for not posting tysm for 490+ followers and ty ani for the idea & nic for the help. i have a lot of exams but i wanted to post this before locking in and coming back with all requests and fics <3 love yall
four years. that's how much time passed since the night marcus –your now ex– broke up with you.
the breakup with him didn’t happen because you were unavailable. it happened because he was a lying cheating piece of shit.
and the memory still lingered like a bruise that refused to fade completely.
you found out a random tuesday evening. a mutual friend posted a story on instagram: nothing dramatic, just a casual photo for a party the previous weekend. in the background, clear as day, you saw him with his tongue down another girl’s throat.
the same weekend he told you he was ‘’too tired to hang out’’ and needed ‘’space.’’
you confronted him the next night when you two went out to have dinner. you played your role perfectly; laughing at his jokes and leaning at the right moments.
you were good at faking. you always had been.
you wanted to talk about that, and when you did, he didn’t even try to lie.
‘’yeah. i slept with her. so what? you’re never really present anyway. you’re always halfway out the door emotionally.’’
you tried not to cry. not in public. not in such a luxurious restaurant. you were about to speak, but he interrupted you.
‘’maybe if you actually talked to me instead of acting like some mysterious untouchable girl… i wouldn’t have needed to find pleasure in someone else.’’
his words were cruel, but the betrayal burned deeper than the insult.
you had let him in more than most. you shared pieces of yourself you usually kept hidden. and he rewarded that vulnerability by cheating you and then blaming you for it.
that night you drove home in silence, your hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turned white. you didn’t cry until you took a shower.
the hot water was burning your skin as reality settled in: trusting someone backfired spectacularly.
after marcus, something inside you shifted.
you stopped believing that real intimacy could be safe.
every man who showed interest felt like a potential traitor. every sweet word sounded like manipulation waiting to happen. every touch made you wonder what that guy was hiding behind that smile.
you still went on dates. you still flirted effortlessly and still let men take you home and fuck you. but you never truly let them close.
the second things started feeling real –the second a conversation turned vulnerable, when sometime tried to stay the night and hold you, or even when a touch became too tender– you disconnected. you left your own body and watched everything from above.
years passed like this.
a string of shallow relationships that never lasted more than a few weeks. you became an expert at keeping people a comfortable distance while making them believe they were close.
but you never stayed. not emotionally at least.
your best friend watched this cycle repeat itself with growing worry and frustration. she was there the night you found out about him cheating. she held you while you cried angry tears. and she was tired of seeing her best friend never letting anyone in.
one afternoon, after you mentioned yet another guy who slowly ghosted you after a few dates, she sat you down on her couch with two glasses of wine and a look that said she wasn’t going to let you dodge the conversation this time.
‘’i love you more than anything in this world,’’ she started quietly. ‘’but i can’t keep watching you destroy any chance of real connection because of what he did to you four years ago. you deserve to feel something.’’
you tried to brush it off with some humor, but she wasn't having it.
‘’you need therapy,’’ she said. ‘’you’re so scared and that fear is costing you years of your life. just go to one session. if you hate it, i’ll never bring it up.’’
‘’i don’t need therapy,’’
‘’yes, you do. you think you’re fine because you can still flirt and get guys, but you’re not fine. you’re lonely when you’re with someone.’’
you let out a bitter laugh.
‘’i’m not scared. i’m smart. after what marcus did, why the hell would i let someone in again? so they cheat on me and then blame me for having trust issues? no, thanks.’’
‘’not every man is marcus. but you’ll never know that if you keep pushing everyone away before they even have a chance. you deserve to feel safe with someone. you deserve to be loved and not just desired.’’
you looked away.
‘’i’m handling it.’’ you repeated stubbornly.
‘’you’re not handling it,’’ your friend said softly. ‘’you’re surviving. there’s a difference.’’
she slid a small business card across the table toward you.
hawkins behavioral health.
you didn’t book the appointment right away.
for nearly three weeks, the small business card your best friend gave you sat in your kitchen like a quiet accusation. every time you went to drink water, you saw it. every night you came exhausted from work, it was still there.
at first, you ignored it completely.
you told yourself you didn’t need therapy. but the words felt thinner every time you repeated them.
you started researching the place anyway – mostly out of boredom, you convinced yourself. hawkins behavioral health had a clean website and good reviews.
but one name kept appearing with particularly strong feedback: dr. steve harrington.
you read review after review.
‘’he actually sees you. doesn’t just nod and write things down.’’
‘’first therapist who called me out on my bullshit in the kindest way possible.’’
‘’made me feel safe enough to be honest.’’
you closed the browser more than once, annoyed at yourself for even considering it.
then came the date with tyler. a guy you met.
it was supposed to be casual, just drinks at a nice bar. he was charming, successful, and funny.
on paper, he was perfect. in reality, he spent most of the night talking about himself.
when you finally opened up a little, he didn’t seem to care. but there was a specific comment that hurt.
‘’guys don’t want to deal with a bunch of emotional baggage, you know?’’
the comment stung more than it should have.
later that night, when he kissed you outside the bar and invited you back to his place, you went. but the entire time you felt hollow. you two didn’t even kiss there, just talked at night and he let you stay to sleep.
the next morning you drove home in silence. when you walked into the apartment, the little business card was still on the counter. you picked it up, turned it over in your hands for a long time, and finally sighed.
‘’fuck it,’’ you whispered.
you called hawkins behavior health that same afternoon and booked an appointment for the following thursday.
the day of your first session arrived faster than you expected.
you spent the entire morning convincing yourself you could still cancel. you changed outfits three times and almost turned the car around twice on the way there.
but somehow, you ended up walking through the front doors of the building.
the reception area was warm and comforting, with soft lightning and exposed brick walls. behind the desk stood a woman with short brown hair and energetic presence.
her name tag read: robin buckley – office coordinator.
she looked up and gave you a bright welcoming smile.
‘’hi! you must be the 4:30. first time with us?’’ you nodded, gripping the strap of your bag a little too tightly.
robin’s smile softened, sensing your nerves.
‘’totally normal to feel anxious. everyone is on their first visit.’’ she typed something on her computer. ‘’you’re here to see dr. harrington, right?’’
‘’yes.’’
‘’he’s really good,’’ she said kindly. ‘’a little young for a psychologist, but perceptive. something annoyingly so, but don’t tell him i told you that.’’ she gave you a playful wink. ‘’just be honest with him. he can candle the truth.’’
she printed some forms and handed them to you.
‘’fill these out and i’ll let him know you’re him. deep breath. you’ve got this.’’
ten minutes later, robin returned and led you down a quiet hallway lined with plants.
she stopped in front of a wooden door and gave you one last encouraging smile.
‘’dr. harrington? your 4:30 is here.’’
you took a deep breath and stepped inside.
the office was nothing like you had imagined. it didn’t feel clinical or cold. warm afternoon light poured through tall windows, bathing the room in a soft golden hue.
one wall was lined with tall bookshelves filled with psychology texts, novels, and a few personal items – like a small framed picture of a group of friends, and what looked like a tiny hawkins high keychain hanging from a shelf.
two comfortable deep armchairs faxed each other with a low wooden table between them. a box of tissues on the table and a long couch that looked untouched.
and he was rising from one of the armchairs. steve harrington.
he was younger than you expected even if robin told you before.
much younger. early twenties, if that.
he looked tall even if he was sitting, with messy brow hair that looked like he’d run his hand through it several times that day.
and he had warm hazel eyes. big hazel eyes you weren’t able to ignore.
he also wore a brown jacket over a button-up shirt.
steve looked more like a handsome graduate student than a licensed psychologist.
‘’hi,’’ he said with low warm voice. ‘’i’m steve harrington. you can call me steve if that makes you feel more comfortable. come in, please.”
he gestured toward the empty armchair across from him.
‘’sit however you’d like. there are no rules in this room.’’
you gave him a small smile and sat down, crossing your legs neatly and folding your hands in your lap. you studied him from a moment: the way he moved, the way he looked at you.
he was annoying attractive. too attractive to be doing this job.
steve sat down across from you, leaning forward slightly with his hands clasped loosely between his knees. he didn’t speak right away. he just looked at you –not staring, but truly paying attention– and it made your skin prickle.
‘’so,’’ he said gently after a few seconds, offering a small smile. ‘’what brings you here today?’’
you let out a soft breath and gave him a smile.
‘’well…. apparently i’m very good at making men want me, but terrible at actually letting them stay.’’ you titled your head a little, letting your gaze linger on his face for a second. ‘’my last boyfriend said i’m emotionally unavailable. among other things.’’
you finished with a light laugh, hoping it would steer the conversation into safer waters.
steve didn’t laugh with you.
he simply watched you with a calm and thoughtful expression.
after a moment, he talked.
“you started with a joke,” he noted gently. “and a compliment hidden inside it. you smiled while talking about something painful. that’s interesting.”
you raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your expression light.
“are you always this direct?”
“well… i’m noticing some things. you are trying to deflect,” he replied but not unkindly. “you’re very good at it. you use charm and humor to keep things from getting serious.”
you felt a flicker of irritation mixed with uncomfortably and nervousness.
“you’re very observant for someone so young,” you said, your tone was still light but with a subtle edge. “does that usually work for you? reading people before they even say anything?”
steve’s mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.
but his eyes remained steady.
“you’re doing it again,” he said softly. “shifting the focus onto me and testing my reactions.” he paused, then added. “it’s okay. we don’t have to rush. this is your space.”
you sat back slightly, studying him.
he was good. too good.
and the fact that he was young somehow made it worse.
he shouldn’t be this perceptive.
he shouldn’t be able to see through you this easily.
steve waited patiently, giving you time. his presence was calm, steady, and strangely grounding.
those hazel eyes never left yours, but they weren’t intimidating either.
they were patient. kind. like he really had nowhere else he’d rather be.
“so,” he said again. “when you say you’re “terrible at letting people stay”… what does that feel like for you?”
you opened your mouth, ready to give another polished half-joking answer.
but for the first time in a long time, the words got stuck in your throat.
steve didn’t push. he simply waited, watching you with that calm gaze.
the silent stretched between you, not awkward, but heavy. for once, you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t have a clever line prepared. you didn’t have a flirty deflection ready.
after a long moment, you let out a slow breath and looked down at your hands.
‘’i don’t know how to… stay,’’ you admitted quietly. ‘’when things get real. when someone starts looking too closely. i just… leave. not physically. but emotionally. i go somewhere else in my head. i smile. i say the right things. but i’m not really there.’’
steve nodded slowly, his expression soft but attentive.
‘’that sounds lonely,’’ he said gently. ‘’being with someone but no really being with them.’’
you swallowed hard.
‘’it is,’’ you whispered. ‘’but it’s safer.
steve leaned forward sightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
‘’can you tell me more about that? when did you start feeling the need to protect yourself from the others like this?’’
you hesitated. the memories of your ex came rushing back – his cruel words, the way he blamed you for his own cheating, the humiliation of realizing you tried to be vulnerable with someone who never deserved it.
‘’four years ago,’’ you said, voice quieter now. ‘’i was with someone. i thought i was letting him in. i was trying and he cheated on me. then told me it was my fault and after that… it just felt easier to never let anyone close enough to hurt me again.’’
steve listened without interrupting. you liked that. and his eyes never left your face.
when you finished, he spoke carefully.
‘’so you learned that being vulnerable leads to pain. and now, even when you want connection, your mind and body protect you by disconnecting.’’
you looked up at him, surprised by how gently he said it.
‘’you’re very young to be this good at this,’’ you said, trying to regain some control with a teasing smile.
steve’s lip curved into a faint smile.
‘’and you’re deflecting again,’’ he replied softly, but there was no judgment in his tone. ‘’it’s okay. we’ll work on that. one step at a time.’’
he paused and then asked gently.
‘’when you’re with someone now… physically… what does that disconnection feel like in your body?’’
you shifted in your seat, feeling exposed under his attentive gaze. you hadn't expected him to go there so directly, yet so kindly.
‘’it feels like… im floating,’’ you admitted. ‘’like i can do everything right but i’m not really feeling anything. it’s like automatic.’’
steve nodded slowly, processing your words.
‘’and does that bother you?’’ he asked. ‘’or has it become normal?’’
you stayed silent for a long moment.
‘’.. it bothers me,’’ you finally whispered. ‘’but i don’t know how to stop doing it.’’
he gave you a small nod.
‘’that’s why you’re here,’’ he said gently. ‘’we’re going to figure that out together. no pressure. just honestly, at whatever pace you need.’’
for the rest of the session, steve listened carefully as you spoke. he didn’t interrupt. he didn’t judge.
he simply asked thoughtful questions and noticed things you hadn’t even realized about yourself; the way you joked when things got heavy, the way you crossed your arms when you felt vulnerable…
by the time the session ended, you felt strangely drained. but also lighter.
steve stood up when the hour was over and gave you a warm smile.
‘’you did really well today,’’ he said. ‘’i know it wasn’t easy. same time next week?’’
you nodded, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and relief.
as you left his office, you couldn’t stop thinking about how easily he had seen through every wall you tried to put up.
then the days after your first session passed in a strange haze.
you went back to your routine: work, nights with your best friend… but something felt different. lighter, maybe. or perhaps just more aware.
you tried dating again. not because you suddenly believed in love, but because you wanted to prove to yourself (and maybe to steve), that you could try.
his name was daniel. he was kind, funny and worked as a graphic designer.
he didn’t try too hard.
on your first date, you talked for almost three hours about music and movies. on the second, he kissed you goodnight outside your car.
you wanted this to work.
you returned for the second session. you spent the entire week thinking about steve’s words.
the way he looked at you. the way he actually listened. it was unsettling how much space he was taking up in your mind.
when you walked into his office and steve was already waiting, sitting in his usual chair. he wore a blue polo shirt that made his hazel eyes stand out even more.
the moment you entered, he gave you a warm smile that made your stomach tighten.
‘’hi,’’ he said. ‘’it’s good to see you again. come in, make yourself comfortable.’’
you sat down in the armchair across from him, crossing your legs and folding your hands in your lap. for a few seconds, you didn’t know where to begin.
steve waited patiently, as always – never rushing you, never filling the silence.
‘’i’ve been thinking about what we talked about last time,’’ you started quietly. ‘’and… i went out with this guy named daniel. a few times, actually.’’
steve nodded slowly, giving you his full attention.
‘’tell me about that,’’
you took a deep breath.
‘’he’s really kind. patient. he doesn’t pressure me. we talked for hours and he actually listens.’’ you paused, then added more softly. ‘’i wanted it to be different this time. i want to try going somewhere serious with him. not just casual.’’
steve listened, his eyes steady on you. when you finished, he spoke carefully.
‘’that’s a significant step – choosing to try something real with someone after being hurt. how did it feel for you?’’ you looked down at your hands.
‘’at the beginning it was okay. i felt present. but then i slipped away again.’’ you let out a small breath. ‘’i hate that i keep doing that.’’
steve was quiet for a moment, processing your words with care.
‘’what you’re describing is a very common trauma response,’’ he said gently. ‘’after being betrayed by someone you tried to trust, your nervous system learned that vulnerability equals danger. so when intimacy starts to feel real, your mind protects you by dissociating.’’
you looked up at him, surprised by how good he explained it. steve continued.
‘’the fact that you’re aware of it happening is already a progress. most people don’t even notice when they disconnect.’’
his words wrapped around you like a blanket. you felt your cheeks grow warm and you bit your lip.
‘’thank you,’’ you whispered. steve’s expression softened further.
he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
‘’would you like to practice some grounding exercises? things you can use when you feel yourself starting to flow away?’’
you nodded. and for the next thirty minutes, steve guided you through several exercises with patience and care. his voice was incredibly calm and silky as he spoke.
he watched you practice, his eyes never leaving you.
‘’good,’’ he said when you did it correctly. ‘’that’s really good. you’re picking this up quickly.’’
every time he praised you, even subtly, you felt warmth spread through your chest. you found yourself feeling timid under his attention.
steve remembered details from your previous session and wove them in naturally.
‘’you mentioned last time that you tend to perform because you want others to feel good,’’ he looked at you. ‘’we can work on finding balance.’’
you felt exposed but safe. the way steve spoke made you feel truly seen.
when the session was nearing its end, steve looked at you.
‘’you did really well today,’’ he said softly. ‘’you were honest about something difficult. you let yourself be vulnerable.’’
his praise hit you deeply. you felt your face flush.
you left his office with warm cheeks and the confusing realization that your therapist’s gentle praise was starting to affect you far more than any touch from daniel ever had.
after that, you continued seeing daniel. the relationship –if it could even be called that yet– developed slowly and sweetly. he was consistent in a way that was almost foreign to you.
but every time the moment leaned toward something more intimate, you gently stopped him.
daniel was always understanding. he’d kiss your forehead and never made you feel guilty. and yet, every time you left his apartment, you felt a quiet frustration with yourself.
you wanted him fully. you wanted to be normal. but something inside you still head back.
in the other way, your therapy sessions with steve became the anchor of your week. you found yourself in that office. steve seemed to look better each time you saw him.
sometimes it was the way his hair fell across his forehead.
sometimes it was the soft sweaters that hugged his biceps and shoulders.
sometimes it was simply the way he looked at you.
the flirting on your part was subtle, almost unconscious. quiet and soft words while tucking your hair behind your ear.
steve never crossed any lines.
he remained perfectly professional. but his gaze would linger a second longer than necessary, and his voice would drop into that low silky tone when he praised you.
you told yourself it was nothing. he was just doing his job.
one afternoon, after a particularly long session, you met your best friend for a coffee. the moment you sat down, she studied your face with a knowing look.
‘’so… how are things going with daniel?’’ she asked, cutting into her avocado toast.
you smiled, a small genuine one.
‘’they’re good, actually. he’s really sweet. we’ve been seeing each other a couple times a week. we haven’t slept together yet… but i feel like i might be getting closer to wanting that.’’
her eyes lit up.
‘’that’s great! i’m really happy for you. he sounds like a good guy.’’ you nodded, stirring your coffee.
there was a comfortable pause. then she took a sip of her drink and asked casually:
‘’and how’s therapy going? you haven’t told me much about it lately.’’
you hesitated for a second, then shrugged lightly.
‘’it’s… going well, i think. my therapist is really good. he’s patient, he actually listens, and he explains things in a way that doesn’t make me feel like i’m broken. we’ve working on grounding exercises so i can stay more present, especially with daniel.’’
she raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
‘’tell me more about him. what’s he like?’’
you looked down at your cup, feeling a little shy.
‘’he’s… younger than i expected. really perceptive. he remember everything i tell him. he just helps me understand why i do it.’’
she stayed quiet for a moment. then she leaned forward with a mischievous grin.
‘’okay… i have to confess something. after you told me you started therapy, i got curious and looked him up on google.’’
you blinked. ‘’you what?’’
‘’i googled him,’’ she said, laughing. ‘’dr. steve harrington. i found his profile on the practice’s website and some pictures. girl… he’s ridiculously hot. like, stupidly attractive. i mean… i get why tour sessions feel intense.’’
you felt your face heat up instantly. you looked down at your latte.
‘’he’s just my therapist,’’ you said quickly, trying to sound casual. ‘’he’s professional. really good at his job. that’s all.’’
‘’sure. that’s why you are blushing right now.’’
after that comment, you may have started seeing steve a little bit differently.
maybe more handsome.
maybe with more interest.
you tried to think it was just nonsense, that your best friend’s talk was inside your brain.
while waiting in the reception area for your session, you made the mistake of checking the practice's recent google reviews on your phone.
several new ones appeared. from women in their twenties.
one in particular caught your eye:
‘’dr. Harrington is incredible. i’ve never felt so understood in my life. he’s helped me so much with my intimacy issues. 10/10, would recommend to anyone.”
there were several more like that – all women praising how attentive and emotionally available steve was.
your stomach twisted with an ugly feeling you didn’t want to name.
jealousy.
then, as you were sitting in the waiting room, the door to steve’s office opened.
a pretty brunette woman stepped out, smiling brightly. steve followed her to the door, speaking to her in that same gentle, warm tone he used with you.
“see you next week. you did great today.”
she left, laughing at something he said. you felt a sharp pang in your chest.
when Steve turned and saw you waiting, his expression softened immediately.
“hey,” he said warmly. “ready?”
you forced a small smile and followed him into the office, trying to ignore the uncomfortable knot of jealousy twisting inside you.
you sat down in your usual armchair. steve settled across from you, leaning forward sightly with his elbows on his knees.
‘’how has your week been?’’ he asked softly.
you hesitated for a moment and opened your mouth to give a vague answer, but steve continued you could speak, his tone calm.
‘’you mentioned last session that you’ve been seeing someone. daniel, right? how are things going with him?’’
the question caught you slightly off guard. he had remembered the name.
of course he had.
you shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling exposed.
“they’re… going well,” you said carefully. “he’s really kind. patient. we’ve been spending more time together. we talk a lot, we kiss… but we haven’t slept together yet.”
steve listened with complete focus, his eyes never leaving your face. he nodded slowly, processing your words.
“and how do you feel about that?” he asked with a soft voice. “about holding back with him?”
you let out a slow breath.
“i feel guilty sometimes,” you admitted. “he’s a good guy. he deserves someone who can give him everything. but i’m scared. every time things get more physical, i feel myself starting to disconnect again. i don’t want to perform with him… but i don’t know how to stop doing it.”
steve was quiet for a few seconds. His expression remained calm and professional, but you noticed the subtle tension in his jaw and the way his fingers tightened slightly around his pen.
“it makes sense that you’re scared,” he said gently. “after being betrayed by someone you tried to trust, your mind and body learned that intimacy equals danger.”
he paused, then added in that low silky tone he had.
“but I also notice that when you talk about daniel, you describe him as ‘nice’ and ‘kind.’ you don’t talk about desire. about wanting him. does that feel significant to you?”
his question felt more direct than usual. you felt your cheeks warm under his steady gaze.
“i… i don’t know,” you whispered. “maybe I’m still not ready. or maybe i’m comparing how i feel with him to… other things.”
steve’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. he didn’t push further on that comment, but the air in the room felt heavier.
you felt your face flush. you looked down at your lap, unable to meet his eyes.
a shy, nervous smile formed on your lips as you played with the hem of your sweater and your fingers trembled slightly.
you left his office with the confusing realization that steve’s gentle praise affected you.
and no matter how many times you told yourself he was just being a good therapist.
the feeling was getting harder to ignore.
another day that daniel texted you asking if you wanted to do something casual. you said yes before you could overthink it.
the night arrived. he was the same as always: easy to talk to, interested in what you said, and never pushy. he brought you flowers –white daisies– and remembered your drink.
when dinner was over, you ended up on his couch. the kissing started slow and sweet. his hands were careful as they slid under your sweater, caressing your back.
for a while, you stayed present. you felt the warmth of his body, the softness of his lips, the way he whispered how beautiful you were. it felt nice.
but the moment his hand moved lower, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, something inside you tightened.
you pulled back gently, placing a hand on his chest.
‘’daniel… wait,’’ you whispered. he stopped immediately, looking at you with concern.
‘’is everything okay?’’ he asked softly.
you sat up a little, pulling your sweater back down.
your heart was racing, but not from desire – from anxiety.
‘’i’m sorry,’’ you said quietly. ‘’i thought i was ready, but… i’m not. not tonight.’’
daniel nodded without hesitation. he sat back and gave you a kind, understanding smile.
“that’s completely fine,” he said. “we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. i’m really happy just spending time with you.”
you felt a wave of relief mixed with guilt.
yet you still couldn’t give him what he probably wanted.
you stayed for a little while longer, talking on the couch, but the atmosphere shifted.
when you left his apartment that night, you hugged him goodbye and told him you’d text him soon. the drive home was quiet. you felt disappointed in yourself.
by the time you got home, took a shower, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the frustration had built up to a breaking point.
now it has been months. months of this same cycle. flirting, dating, getting close, but then freezing or performing the moment things became truly intimate.
you were tired of it. exhausted.
you arrived at your session feeling a mix of determination and deep embarrassment.
steve was already seated when you walked in. he wore a sweater that made his shoulders look broader. when he saw you, his hazel eyes softened with that familiar warm attention.
“hi,” he said gently. “come in. make yourself comfortable.”
you sat down. steve noticed your body language immediately.
“you seem a little nervous today,” he observed softly. “would you like to tell me what’s on your mind?”
you took a deep breath and decided to be honest.
“i’ve been thinking about what we talked about last time,” you said quietly. “about why i disconnect during sex. i… i want to understand it better. so i can try to fix it with daniel.”
steve nodded slowly, his gaze steady and kind.
“i’m glad you want to explore this,” he said. “to help you, i’m going to ask some personal questions about your sexual experiences. you don’t have to answer anything that makes you uncomfortable. but the more honest you can be, the better i can understand what’s happening and help you work through it. is that okay with you?”
you swallowed hard and nodded. steve kept his voice low and professional.
“when you’re with daniel, or with previous partners… do you feel any physical pleasure at all? or does it become purely mechanical after a certain point?”
your cheeks started burning.
“sometimes… at the beginning,” you whispered. “i feel warmth. tingling. but then it fades. i start focusing on what i should be doing instead of what i’m feeling.”
steve nodded, completely focused on you.
“do you touch yourself when you’re alone?” he asked calmly. “masturbate?”
your face went hot. you looked down at your lap, fingers twisting nervously in your sweater.
“…yes,” you admitted.
“how does that feel compared to sex with someone else?” he asked gently. “do you stay present when you’re touching yourself?”
you bit your lip, feeling incredibly exposed.
“mostly yes,” you whispered. “it’s easier when i’m alone. i can control everything. i don’t have to worry about what the other person is thinking.”
steve’s voice remained soothing.
“that’s very common,” he said. “when you’re alone, there’s no fear of judgment or betrayal. your body feels safe enough to stay present. but when someone else is involved, that safety disappears and your mind protects you by dissociating.”
he paused, then continued.
“when you masturbate… what do you usually think about? do you stay focused on the sensations in your body, or does your mind wander to fantasies?”
your face was burning now. you couldn’t look at him.
“i… try to focus on the sensations,” you mumbled. “but sometimes i fantasize. about… being wanted. being seen. not just fucked.”
steve was quiet for a moment, giving you space. the silence felt heavy but not uncomfortable.
when he finally spoke, his voice was even softer, almost careful.
“thank you for being honest about that,” he said. “that’s really helpful information.”
he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
“as an exercise for this week, i’d like you to try something at home. when you masturbate, i want you to focus completely on the physical sensations. you don’t have to do it every day, just when you feel comfortable.”
your heart was beating fast. the idea of doing that and then telling him about it made your stomach twist with nerves.
“and… you want me to tell you how it went?” you asked, voice small.
steve nodded calmly.
“only if you feel comfortable sharing. this is your space. but yes, talking about it next session could help us understand what makes it easier or harder for you to stay present.”
you swallowed hard, cheeks still burning.
“okay,” you whispered. “i’ll try.”
the drive home was quiet. your hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly the whole way.
steve’s voice kept echoing in your head.
the way he looked at you when you spoke. the subtle way his fingers tapped against his knee.
by the time you stepped into your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and sat on the edge of your bed, replaying steve’s words from the session.
you lay back on your bed, still wearing your clothes from the day. you slid your hand inside your now pajama pants and started slowly rubbing yourself over your panties.
you tried to focus on the sensation, on your own body like steve suggested. but after a few minutes your mind began to wander.
you kept thinking about him.
about the calm way he looked at you when he spoke.
about how low and steady his voice got when he explained things.
about the way his hands rested on his thighs during sessions.
you imagined those same hands on you and immediately felt a rush of heat between your legs.
you slipped your fingers under your panties and touched yourself directly, circling your clit slowly. soft sounds left your lips as you got wetter.
every time you tried to push the thoughts away, they came back stronger.
you pictured steve’s face, his kind eyes, the slight scruff on his jaw, the way he said your name.
guilt twisted in your chest even as pleasure built between your legs.this is wrong, you thought.
he was your therapist. he was trying to help you and you were here touching yourself while thinking about him.
still, you didn’t stop. your fingers moved faster, sliding inside yourself while your other hand gripped the sheets.
your breathing grew heavier. you whispered his name once, very quietly, like a secret you couldn’t keep inside.
when you finally came it was sharp and intense; your thighs shaking, a soft broken sound leaving your throat.
you felt dirty. wrong. like you had crossed a line you could never uncross.
steve trusted you.
he was patient and professional and genuinely trying to help you heal, and here you were fantasizing about him.
“what the hell is wrong with me…” you whispered into the quiet room.
the next few days were hell.
you tried to pretend it never happened.
you told yourself it was a one-time mistake. that it wouldn’t happen again.
but when thursday afternoon came and you walked into steve’s office, your hands were already shaking.
steve was sitting in his usual chair, wearing a soft beige sweater, looking calm and professional like always.
he smiled gently when you entered.
“hey,” he said warmly. “how have you been since last session?”
you sat down on the couch across from him, legs pressed tightly together.
“fine,” you mumbled.
he studied you for a moment, then leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
“did you try the homework i gave you?” he asked, voice gentle but direct. “touching yourself without pressure?”
you stayed silent, staring at the floor. your throat felt tight. steve waited patiently.
“you don’t have to share details if you don’t want to,” he continued softly, “but it would help if you could tell me whether you did it or not… and if you did, what came up for you. what you were thinking about.”
you still didn’t answer. your fingers twisted in your lap.
steve tilted his head.
“it’s okay,” he said. “you can sit over here if it feels easier to talk.” he gestured to the smaller couch closer to his chair, only a couple feet away. “sometimes being a little closer helps.”
you didn’t move.
after a few seconds of silence, steve slowly reached out and placed his hand gently on your knee, warm and steady, trying to get your attention.
“hey,” he said quietly, voice low. “talk to me. what’s going on in that head of yours?”
your heart hammered in your chest. his hand on your leg made everything worse. you felt tears burning in your eyes.you finally whispered, barely audible:
“…i did it.”
steve nodded slowly, thumb brushing lightly against your knee in a comforting motion.
“good. that’s okay. and when you were doing it… what were you thinking about?”
you stayed quiet for a long moment, shame burning through your whole body. then, in a tiny, broken voice, you admitted:
“…you.”
the word hung heavy in the air between you.steve froze. his hand stilled on your knee.
for the first time since you’d known him, he looked genuinely caught off guard.
steve didn’t move. the air between you grew thick.
he stayed quiet for a few seconds, processing your words, then spoke carefully.
“you need to try thinking about something like that when you’re with daniel. that kind of arousal… that’s what we’re trying to build with him.”
you finally looked up at him with glassy and frustrated eyes.
“how am i supposed to feel that way with daniel?” your voice cracked. “how do i differentiate it? how do i know what i really want with him?”
steve stared at you. his breathing changed.
the professional mask cracked right in front of you.
for a moment he looked conflicted, struggling hard with himself.
then he leaned in slowly, cupped your face with one hand, and kissed you.
the kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but full of months of hidden tension. his lips were warm and gentle against yours. your heart slammed in your chest.
he pulled back after a few seconds with his breathing ragged.
“fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispered. “that was completely unprofessional. i shouldn’t have done that. we can’t—”
you didn’t let him finish.
you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him back into the kiss, harder this time.
steve froze for half a second before he gave in completely, kissing you back with a quiet groan. his hand slid to the back of your neck as the kiss deepened, growing more desperate.
both of you knew how wrong this was.
but in that moment, neither of you cared.
“this is so wrong…” he said. “i could lose my license. i could get fired. we shouldn’t be doing this.”
you looked into his eyes, desperate.
“i need you, steve,” you whispered back, voice breaking. “i don’t want anyone else. i only think about you.”
he let out a shaky breath, clearly fighting with himself.
then pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him, your jeans rubbing against his thighs. his hands immediately gripped your hips.
“fuck… you’re going to ruin me,” he murmured before kissing you again, deeper this time.
his mouth moved to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin as his hands worked between you.
“ride my thigh, baby,” he whispered hotly against your neck. “just like this. with your clothes on. use me to feel good.”
you moaned softly and started rocking your hips, grinding your clothed pussy against his thick, muscular thigh.
the rough fabric of your jeans created a delicious friction against your clit with every roll of your hips.
steve’s hands stayed on your hips, guiding you, pulling you harder against his leg.
“that’s it,” he breathed, sucking on the sensitive spot below your ear. “grind on me. use my thigh to get yourself off.”
you moved faster, rolling your hips in desperate circles, the seam of your jeans pressing perfectly against your clit.
you could feel how wet you were getting, the fabric growing damp as you humped his leg.
“steve…” you whimpered, burying your face in his neck.
“good girl,” he praised softly, kissing down your neck while helping you grind harder. “look at you… riding my thigh fully dressed like you can’t wait any longer.”
his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you down firmer against him with every roll. the pressure was intense, the friction making your legs shake.
“does that feel good, princess?” he murmured, voice low and rough. “humping my leg like a needy girl?”
“yes… fuck, yes,” you moaned quietly, moving faster, chasing the building pleasure.
steve kept kissing and biting your neck gently while you rode his thigh desperately, the wet patch on your jeans growing bigger with every grind.
then he didn’t even wait for you to cum and unbuttoned your jeans and tugged the zipper down. his long fingers slipped inside your jeans and under your panties, finding you soaked.
you gasped as two thick fingers touched you.
“so wet already,” he breathed against your neck, kissing and biting softly while his fingers played with your pussy. “you really do need this, don’t you?”
you moaned quietly, rocking your hips against his hand as he fingered you deeper.
his thumb found your clit and rubbed firm, steady circles while his mouth continued its assault on your neck.
“steve…” you whimpered, gripping his shoulders. “with you… i feel good.”
he lifted his head from your neck, eyes dark but full of concern. his fingers kept moving inside you, slower now.
“tell me,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and careful.“i don’t feel blocked,” you breathed, grinding down onto his fingers. “i’m not anxious… i’m not overthinking. i’m just… enjoying it. i feel safe with you.”
steve let out a shaky breath, clearly worried.
he stopped moving his fingers for a moment and looked straight into your eyes, his free hand gently cupping your cheek.
“are you sure?” he asked softly, thumb brushing your cheek. “i need you to be honest with me. if anything feels wrong or too much, you tell me immediately, okay? your comfort is the most important thing right now.”
you nodded, leaning into his touch.
“i’m sure,” you whispered. “i want this. i want you.”
steve searched your face for any sign of doubt, then kissed you again, slower this time, more tenderly.
his fingers started moving once more, curling gently inside you while his thumb kept rubbing your clit in steady circles.
“good girl,” he whispered against your lips, voice full of care. “just relax. i’ve got you. tell me if you want it slower or deeper.” he whispered hotly against your skin, curling his fingers inside you perfectly. “just ride my fingers, baby. take what you need.”
his other hand slid under your shirt, squeezing your breast as he kept kissing and marking your neck.
his fingers moved faster inside you, thrusting deep while his thumb pressed harder on your clit.
you were grinding desperately on his hand, moaning softly into his shoulder, completely lost in the feeling of his fingers stretching you and his mouth on your neck.
steve groaned quietly against your skin.
“you feel so fucking good… so tight around my fingers.”
you moaned quietly, rolling your hips against his hand as he fingered you with perfect rhythm.
his mouth returned to your neck, kissing and sucking softly while he focused completely on your pleasure, always watching your reactions, always making sure you felt safe.
“you’re doing so well,” he murmured against your skin, fingers curling just right. “i just want you to feel good, baby. nothing else matters right now.”
the pleasure built quickly until it crashed over you. you came hard with a broken moan, thighs shaking, pussy clenching tightly around his fingers as waves of pleasure rolled through your body.
steve kept moving his fingers gently, helping you ride out every last pulse.
when you finally came down, breathing heavily, you reached down to palm his obvious erection through his pants.
steve immediately caught your wrist, stopping you.
“no,” he said softly but firmly, breathing hard. “not today. this is about you.”
he gently lifted you off his lap and laid you down on the couch.
he knelt on the floor between your legs, pulled your jeans and panties down in one smooth motion, and spread your thighs wide.
steve leaned in and kissed your inner thigh, then higher, until his mouth was on your pussy. he licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, tasting you.
you moaned loudly, your hand flying to his hair.
he licked you slowly at first, savoring you, then became more eager; sucking gently on your clit, fucking you with his tongue, then sliding two fingers back inside you while he focused his mouth on your sensitive bud.
“steve…” you whimpered, back arching. “oh my god…”
he ate you out with perfect focus, humming against you, curling his fingers deep while his tongue worked your clit in stead patterns.
you felt completely overwhelmed in the best way.
“it’s been so long…” you moaned, voice breaking, fingers tightening in his hair. “i haven’t felt this good with anyone in so long… steve, fuck—”
he groaned against your pussy, the vibration making you shiver.
he doubled down, sucking harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster.
you came again with a loud cry, thighs clamping around his head as intense pleasure flooded your body.
steve kept licking you gently through it, drawing out every wave until you were trembling and oversensitive.
he finally pulled back, lips shiny, breathing heavily. he looked up at you with dark, worried, but undeniably hungry eyes. then he slowly stood up, towering over you as you lay on the couch.
he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at you for a long moment.
“do you really want me to fuck you?” he asked, voice low and rough. “because we’ve already broken every rule… if we do this, there’s no going back.”
you nodded, still catching your breath.
“yes,” you whispered. “i want you.” steve let out a shaky breath, clearly fighting with himself one last time.
he quickly unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, pulling out his cock. he was big — thick and long, the head already leaking.
you stared at it, a mix of nerves and excitement flooding you.
“you have to be quiet,” he warned, voice serious. “no matter what. if someone hears us, i’m done.”
you nodded quickly. steve pulled your jeans and panties completely off, then climbed on top of you on the small couch.
he rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked pussy before slowly pushing inside.you gasped at the stretch. he was so big it almost hurt, but it felt so good.
he covered your mouth with his large hand as he sank deeper while his eyes were locked on yours.
“shhh, baby,” he whispered, bottoming out inside you. “fuck… you’re so tight.”
he started fucking you on the couch, deep and steady thrusts, his hand still firmly over your mouth to muffle your moans. every time he buried himself completely you whimpered against his palm, eyes rolling back.
after a few minutes he pulled out, stood up and turned you around, bending you over the desk. he pushed back inside you from behind in one smooth thrust, groaning quietly.
“quiet, princess,” he reminded you, hand returning to cover your mouth as he started fucking you harder.
the desk creaked softly with every deep thrust. steve was so big you could feel him in your stomach, stretching you perfectly.
his free hand gripped your hip tightly as he pounded into you, trying to stay as quiet as possible while giving you exactly what you needed.
“is this what you wanted?” he breathed against your ear, voice strained. “you feel so fucking good…”
you could only moan helplessly against his hand, completely lost in how full you felt and how deep he was hitting inside you.
“is this what you wanted?” he whispered, voice low and rough, lips brushing your ear. “when you were touching yourself at home… thinking about me… is this what you imagined?”
you moaned against his palm, nodding frantically.
“oh yes, steve…” you whimpered, the words muffled against his hand.he fucked you a little harder, deep and slow, making sure you felt every inch.
“you were fucking yourself thinking about my cock, weren’t you?” he breathed, voice soft but filthy. “touching that pretty pussy and wishing it was me stretching you open like this…”
you whimpered louder, pushing back against him.
“yes… yes, steve… i wanted you so bad,” you gasped against his fingers.
steve groaned quietly, pressing deeper, grinding against you.
“good girl,” he murmured, kissing the side of your neck while still covering your mouth. “you feel even better than i imagined… so fucking tight and wet for me.”
he kept a steady rhythm, rolling his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. his hand stayed firm over your mouth, muffling your moans as you trembled beneath him.
“that’s it, baby… take it,” he whispered hotly. “this is what you needed, isn’t it? my cock deep inside you while you’re bent over my desk…”
you nodded desperately, tears of pleasure in your eyes.
“yes, steve… oh god, yes…” you moaned against his hand, voice broken and needy.
steve kissed your neck again, sucking softly on your skin as he fucked you deeper, slower, making sure you felt every single inch.
“you’re doing so good for me,” he praised gently, voice full of lust and care at the same time. “such a good girl… letting me fuck you like this…”
“that’s it, baby,” he whispered against your ear, voice low and rough. “cum for me. let go.”
your orgasm hit you hard. your whole body tensed, thighs shaking as you came around his cock with a muffled cry against his palm.
your pussy clenched tightly around him, pulsing again and again.
steve groaned quietly, burying himself deep as he followed right after you. his hips stuttered and he came hard inside you, filling you with warm pulses while pressing his face into your neck to stay quiet.
for a few seconds you both stayed like that, breathing heavily.
then reality seemed to hit him. steve pulled out slowly and grabbed the box of tissues from his desk. he cleaned you gently first, wiping between your legs with care, then cleaned himself.
you both dressed quickly in silence. he helped you button your jeans. once you were both fully dressed, steve sat on the edge of the desk and pulled you to stand between his legs.
he looked at you softly.
“how do you feel?” he asked quietly, genuine concern in his eyes. “be honest with me.”
you took a deep breath, still a little shaky.
“i didn’t feel blocked,” you whispered. “i didn’t overthink everything like i usually do. i just… felt good. really good. safe.”
steve’s expression softened. a small, relieved smile appeared on his lips.
“that’s really good,” he murmured, sounding genuinely happy. “i’m glad you felt that way. that’s important.”
“and… is this what all your patients get?” you asked softly, half-joking but clearly a little nervous.
steve’s eyes widened. he let out a surprised little laugh and shook his head immediately.
“ohhh no, no, no,” he said quickly, almost embarrassed. “you’ve been the exception. completely. i usually stay very professional… i’ve never crossed this line before. not even close.”
he cupped your face with both hands, looking straight into your eyes, sincere.
“this has never happened with anyone else. you’re the only one.”
you bit your lip, feeling a strange mix of relief and warmth in your chest.
steve leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, then rested his forehead against yours.
“this is new for me too,” he whispered. “and probably really stupid… but i couldn’t stop myself with you.”
pairing: steve harrington/f!reader
wc: 9.1k
tags: sex pollen, dubious consent, multiple orgasms, [unsafe] vaginal sex, a lot of come. too much
a/n: thank you thank you thank you to @tinfoileddd, nice to write smth silly and fun. and disgustingly filthy yay
&&
“Someone has to go,” Nancy says, looking around the room at the five of you, congregated outside of the Byers’ home. Each of you eye one another, no one wanting to volunteer for such a task.
You can tell Steve wants to, though. You can tell he wants to even though he’s still reeling from what happened the last time the group made the trek to the Upside Down, because that’s who Steve is and that’s what Steve does, and when he can step in to avoid anyone else having to, he will.
Steve opens his mouth, but you speak over him.
“Whoever it is shouldn’t go alone.” You cut him off, because if Steve is going to volunteer himself as the sacrificial lamb to see if something down below is causing the thick dust raining down onto Hawkins, you want him to at least have someone there with him.
“Well,” Robin says. “I don’t think it should be me.”
“That’s fine,” Jonathan quips, rolling his eyes a little, but you speak up again before Steve can, almost stumbling over your words as he opens his mouth because you want to get your idea out first.
“We should draw straws,” you suggest. “That way it’s random and fair.”
Steve clamps his jaw shut, looking over at you from the corner of his eyes.
“I agree.” Nancy nods. “I’ll go check with Mrs. Byers.”
“I’ll go,” Jonathan says. “I know where they are—she’s busy with Will.” He pauses, then sighs out the word, “Probably.”
He turns on his heel and leaves the four of you standing in a square, Robin’s shoulder pressed against Steve’s, while you look from them to Nancy, concern etched over your face.
“This just feels,” you say, “I dunno. Bad.”
“Yeah, because it is,” Robin says. “This is like, the worst bad it could possibly be. Like, Defcon level 5 bad.”
“That’s the least bad one,” Steve says.
“What?” Robin asks, absently, almost like she forgot what she’d just said.
“Defcon 5,” Steve repeats. “That’s the lowest one. Defcon 1 is the really bad one.”
“Ok, then it’s Defcon 1,” Robin echoes him. “Whatever. Any Defcon sucks!”
The group lulls into an introspective silence until the front door to Jonathan’s house opens and he returns, clutching a handful of straws. He returns to the circle, fidgeting with the straws until he’s back between Nancy and Robin, and then just holds out his fist so you can all pull a straw from his hand.
“Three long,” he specifies, “two short.”
He offers them to Nancy first, who takes a breath, chooses a straw, and—admittedly—looks a little bit miffed that it’s not a short one.
Robin reaches out next, plucking a straw from Jonathan’s hand before you can. She tugs it free.
Long.
Jonathan moves his hand over to you and Steve, and Steve gestures to you to pick first—there’s only one safe straw left, and he’ll suffer Jonathan if he has to, to make sure that none of the women in the little quintet you’ve cobbled together are in danger.
Taking a breath, you pinch the straw on your right between your thumb and index finger, before changing to the one on your left. You ease it out of Jonathan’s hand, and just swallow thickly when you see you’ve pulled a short straw.
A slight tension settles over the group as you huff a short laugh through your nose, because of course that’s your luck.
“Great,” you say, wanting to flick the plastic away but instead you hang onto it, watching as Steve and Jonathan stare each other down.
“You’ll be fine,” Nancy says. “Steve or Jonathan will be with you.” She steps closer. “Do you want to trade?” she adds surreptitiously. She’s more capable than you, she’d be the obvious choice—but you were screwed over by your own idea, so your integrity feels like it’s forcing your hand.
“No, it’s—you need to stay here with Mike. And…Will. If Jonathan ends up going with me. I’ll be ok,” you reply, glancing over at her. “Thanks, though.”
“Just pick one,” Jonathan is saying to Steve, and you watch as Steve reaches for the straw you almost chose first, taking it with no hesitation from Jonathan’s closed fist.
It almost pains you to see that it’s also short, so you’d have been going no matter which you chose. Typical.
Jonathan opens his hand to show his straw is long, just for the fairness of the game, and you turn to Steve, ignoring the way Robin is bouncing a little in place, hands curled into the hem of her sweater before she releases it and just crosses to you, putting her hands on your shoulders.
“You’ll be so fine,” she says. “Steve won a fight against a, like, Russian soldier.”
“He what?” you ask, but before you can get an answer, Steve just steps between you and Robin and meets your eyes.
“Let’s go,” he says. “We’re gonna need to gear up before we head down there again.”
&&
You end up with an old canvas jacket over a tank top, one that Mrs. Byers found for you in the back of the hall closet, the sleeves a little too long. Nancy approached you, shoving her own boots into your hands, and said you’d be better in those, as opposed to the tennis shoes you had on. Steve is still in his jeans too, now wearing an old t-shirt that Jonathan provided. It looks a little too small for Steve, his shoulders a little broader, but it’s hidden beneath his bomber jacket. He only shrugs his shoulders, stretching the fabric out over them before he leads you outside, Jonathan trailing behind, the designated driver to get you to the crossover point.
“You’ll be fine,” he says, mostly to you, because Steve looks a hell of a lot more composed than you do, your breath a little thin, your eyes unblinking as you fixate on nighttime scenery as it passes by. “It一shouldn’t be like, you know, before.”
“No bats?” you ask, almost laughing, because even though you saw the evidence of their story firsthand, even though you’ve been around long enough to know every detail they provided is true, it still sounds crazy to speak it aloud.
“No bats,” Jonathan promises, even though there’s no way he could realistically know.
“Ok,” you say, looking at Steve in the backseat. His jaw is set, and when he feels your eyes on him, he looks over at you.
“You can still sit this one out,” Steve says, and to his credit, Jonathan doesn’t speak for you.
“What do you mean?” you ask, frowning. “I一got a short straw.”
“Yeah, I know,” Steve says, “but you shouldn’t一have to. You’ve never gone down there, and you should keep it that way.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jonathan glance up to look at Steve in the rearview, undoubtedly wondering if the fucking Hair is gonna try to pull him along and leave you with the car.
“It was my idea,” you say. “I pulled a short straw fair and square.”
“Having to go down there isn’t fair,” Steve says.
“Well, you went last time, so having to go again is what’s not fair, isn’t it?” you counter.
“That’s not what I said一” Steve tries to protest, but again, you speak over him.
“I’m going,” you say. “End of story. The quicker you accept that, the easier this will be. Stop一thinking about me and focus.”
Steve huffs a little noise of disbelief, but quietens down and the rest of the drive passes with just the sound of the engine and the tires speeding over the asphalt, potholes and cracks in the road making him slow the car to a stop.
“This is as far as we can drive,” Jonathan says, holding his foot on the brakes as you and Steve both hesitate, looking at the red glow of the rift a bit further up the street, the entire area abandoned and desolate, destroyed by the X-shaped fissure quadrisecting Hawkins’ downtown.
What look like ashes or fiery motes dance above the broken earth, and you force yourself to move so Steve has no choice but to follow.
You feel for the door handle, not taking your eyes off of the red glow ahead of you, and push open the squeaky door, stepping out of the car. The gravel crunches underfoot as you stand and move back a step, slamming the door. Behind you, you hear the rear driver side door creak and slam too, and you look back to meet Steve’s eyes over the roof of the car. Neither of you speaks, but neither of you has to.
“I’ll be here waiting,” Jonathan says, to Steve一he’s rolled down the window on his side. “As long as it takes. But don’t take too long.”
“No sweat,” Steve says, clapping his hand onto the roof, displacing some of the dust that’s already settled onto the car, just by virtue of idling in one place. “We got this.”
You wait for Steve to start walking forward, joining him as you traverse the rocky, destroyed street, the headlights from the Byers’ car illuminating you from behind as you go.
“What’s it like down there?” you ask, carefully stepping over a large chunk of blacktop.
“It’s…” Steve says, his voice trailing off. “Not great.”
“That helps,” you snip, because you’d like maybe a little preparation before you dive in.
“I’ll go first,” Steve says. “it’s一a little trippy. Just… give me a sec after I go through, and then I’ll catch you.”
“Catch me?” you ask, but Steve’s already adjusting his jacket, fiddling with the flashlight he’s holding, running a hand back through his hair, dusted with whatever the fine granules are that have been falling over Hawkins constantly for the last day.
“It’s一I mean, it’s called the Upside Down for a reas一you’ll see. Just. The dizziness will pass quick, promise.”
You open your mouth to say something else, but even as you do, you realize you have no idea what to say or to ask. So instead, you just watch as he crouches down beside the rift, fingers curling over the edge, and as he leans forward, you look back to Jonathan, who’s standing outside the car now, leaning against the hood, watching you both.
When you turn back to look at Steve, he’s gone.
You startle, because yes, you expected it, and yes, you knew this was all real, but for some reason his there-one-second-gone-the-next disappearing act throws you.
“You can go,” Jonathan says, encouraging. “He’ll一be ready by now.”
“Have you gone down there?” you ask.
He pauses, then shakes his head. “Not yet.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, then snicker. “I’ll send you a postcard.”
He hesitates, then smirks. “Bon voyage.”
You hold his gaze for another moment, like he’ll stop you一of course he won’t, you wouldn’t if you were him一and then replicate Steve’s movements as closely as you can remember. Crouching down. Gripping the edge. That was all you’d seen, but you close your eyes and tip yourself forward, expecting一actually, you have no fucking idea what to expect, and as your own body weight propels you forward through the rift, you feel strong hands grip your upper arms, pulling you through the rest of the way until you’re in an environment that feels colder, inherently. Like there’s no warmth here, no sun, nothing living, only death and decay and rot.
You stumble, because like Steve told you, there is a moment when your equilibrium is so completely off it’s almost like you have vertigo. He does catch you, as promised and your hands grip his arms back for a moment until your body reorients itself and you can stand without holding onto him.
“Thanks,” you say, looking around. It’s uncanny一you’re in Hawkins, downtown. It looks the same but still so drastically different that you feel as though you’ve just stepped into a nightmare.
“Come on,” Steve says, gently, and you can tell he doesn’t want to linger in one place too long. His hand is still on your arm, even though you’ve turned enough that you can walk beside him.
All of the air is stale down here, and as you walk through the inverse version of your hometown, you start to become attuned to the strange sounds of this place, the一odd clicks off to the side, a rushing roar occasionally from behind or above you, but you never see anything, never feel anything other than Steve’s fingers pressing into your arm through the jacket.
You don’t know how long you walk for, and you lose your bearings in the dimness of the Upside Down, but Steve is confidently striding forward like he knows exactly where you are and where you’re going. Between you, it’s silent, which you don’t mind一just the sound of your breathing and a few short exclamations when your foot twists on a rock, or Steve drops the flashlight, his quiet little “Oops” actually making you smile a little as he ducks down to pick it up, wiping the dirt from the lens.
You walk further, Nancy’s boots clomping alongside Steve’s quieter hiking shoes, and when you reach the base of a hill, you both stop.
“Up?” you ask, and Steve finally releases your arm. You feel the absence like a presence, because you hadn’t realized how much it was comforting you until it was gone, but he glances over at you, nods, and then gestures for you to head up first.
“I’ll follow you,” he says, “make sure you don’t slip.”
Making sure you don’t fall一It’s thoughtful in the way you expect from Steve, even though you don’t know him that well. You’re only wrapped up in this insanity because you know一no. Knew…Eddie. You knew Eddie. He was your neighbor, a couple doors over, and you were friends in that way where you waved to each other when you were grabbing the mail, or said hi if you happened to pass at the store, or noticed when a girl died in his trailer while he was screaming bloody murder and had to go on the lam. It was hard not to get involved when you’d rushed outside to see what the fuck was going on with all the noise only to watch him split seconds later, peeling out of the lot.
Your first mistake had been even stepping out your front door that evening. Your second mistake had been peeking inside his trailer, your third had been finding that Henderson kid he had mentioned to you a few times in passing…and probably your fiftieth fucking mistake had been suggesting drawing fucking straws to see who got to pay a fucking visit to this scenic fucking shithole.
“Over there,” Steve says, as you crest the hill, pointing vaguely in the direction of a thick copse of trees. “Pretty, uh, dusty.”
He’s right: The trees are surrounded by what looks like a hazy cloud of dust, dense enough to look like fog from afar. It’s practically shimmering even in the darkness, and as Steve shines the flashlight toward it, even though you’re a good distance away, it looks like you’ve agitated it, almost like being illuminated caused the fine particles to move faster. Like observing them made them, somehow, aware of your presence.
You dig the toe of your boot into the ground below you. “So that’s where it’s coming from then,” you say, eager to leave. “Let’s go tell Hopper and Dustin and everyone.”
You start to turn, ready to head back the way you came, but Steve’s arm hooks around your elbow again. You try to suppress how having him back in contact with you does make you feel a little bit better once again.
“No, come on. We need to see if something’s…doing that.”
“It’s just us, Steve,” you argue. “We don’t know enough about anything down here to just go walking into…whatever that is. It looks like…someone cast cloudkill or something.”
Steve quirks an eyebrow at you. “Please tell me you didn’t just bring D&D into this.”
“That’s what it looks like!”
“Dustin would be so proud.” He smirks a little to himself. “Ok,” he says. “I’m gonna go take a closer look. They’ll want to know more and I’d like to be able to answer whatever questions we can when we’re back topside. Just wait here.” He takes off down the hill, minding his steps as he goes.
“Wait,” you try to call after him, not wanting to be too loud. You watch as his flashlight beam moves over the dust again, the swirling almost appearing to move faster as he approaches it, like it wants him to reach it. “Steve!”
You hiss the word as loud as you dare, and he pauses, stopping at the bottom of the slanted ground.
“It’s ok,” he calls back up to you. “I’ll be right back.”
“Let’s just go back!” you say, glancing around behind you as something一somewhere back the way you came from一makes a noise that disrupts the otherwise quiet landscape. That clicking sound again.
“I promise it’s fine,” he says. “I won’t be long.”
“No, Steve—” you say, and he pauses, watching with pursed lips as you start forward.
“Come on, then,” he says, resigned, waiting for you as you also make your way down, the ground uneven and the dirt sliding beneath your feet as you descend.
He’s still in the same spot when you reach him, and he holds out a hand for you to take if you need it. Your gut wants you to reach for it, for him, but you ignore the impulse; you’re back on (mostly) flat ground now, you can walk without assistance. Besides… you both might need both hands readily available if shit goes sideways. Or, uh. Upside down.
You flinch at yourself for even thinking it, because that was stupid. So stupid.
“Hold on,” Steve says, holding his arm out horizontally so you stop walking, because while you were in your own little world lamenting your dumb joke, you’d gotten even closer to the treeline and the dust is very, very much thicker here.
“Oh,” you say, because the way it’s clouded there, it reminds you of when freshwater and saltwater meet but can’t mix, different viscosities preventing them from commingling. “That’s…”
“Weird,” Steve says, and before you can suggest that this is definitely enough information to bring back to the group, he steps forward, approaching the trees.
“Steve!” you hiss. “What the hell, why are you like this?”
He looks back at you, a faint smile quirking up one side of his mouth. “I wish I knew.”
You stand outside of the range of the… dust, or whatever the hell it is, until he reaches the trees. Even from where you’re standing, you can see when he shines the flashlight over them, they look diseased, dead, the bark crumbling, the trunks covered in thick vines. They shine a little in the light, covered in sap or… something far more vile.
“Come back,” you implore him, but he doesn’t listen, and you’re not sure if he can’t hear you or if he just ignored your request. “Steve!”
“It’s fine,” he says. “Come here, it looks like… just come here.”
You don’t want to, but you do, because the entire reason you’re even here is so Steve didn’t come down into this place alone. The air doesn’t smell or taste different when you take a step forward, but it feels softer almost, brushing against your skin like baby powder, and by the time you reach Steve, you feel like you’ve been wrapped in silk, or velvet maybe, like the very air itself is cradling you.
“Look at this,” he says, moving the flashlight closer to the vines. “Do you see that?”
You look closer, not sure what he means at first, until you do see it. It looks like a stem broken off of the vine, like a flower had been there and was now gone. You can see a scattering of them all up and down the vine, and the vines beside it; the entire tree is covered in the same stems. Like it had sprouted blooms once, but they’d shriveled, losing their petals but the central disc where the pollen collected remained.
“Flowers?” you asked.
“I don’t know…” Steve said, reaching out toward one of the stems.
“Hey!” you said, grabbing his wrist with both hands, stopping him before he can touch it. “We’re not touching them. No way.”
“It’s fine,” Steve said. “Just… back up a little.”
“Please don’t,” you say, not moving. Steve extends his arm again, using it to guide you back, and then presses one of the un-petaled flower stems down. You hold your breath, but nothing happens, and when Steve moves his hand back, the stem just rises back to its previous position, unremarkably.
“See?” Steve says, looking back at you. “It’s fine.”
You exhale heavily, nervous still, even though you now have the empirical evidence that yes一it was fine.
“I guess,” you admit, and before you can react, Steve is walking past the treeline, between the old, creaking trunks, twigs snapping beneath his feet. “I swear to god, Harrington…” You mumble it mostly to yourself, and then follow him, because you don’t want to have to explain to anyone that you lost Steve because you were too scared to follow him into some trees.
Even though you’re fairly certain, like, anyone would understand.
He’s stopping at random trees, shining the flashlight on them, but every flowered vine you find looks the same as the first one一flowers, no petals, the center bare of any pollen or residue.
“Maybe we can just一take one of the stems and bring it back. And leave. Now.”
“We don’t know that’s what’s causing the dust,” Steve says, and you actually grab him, spin him around, and stare him down with your hands on your hips.
“I think,” you say, lifting your hands exasperatedly into the air, “we can extrapolate that they are what’s causing it.”
But he’s not listening. You can tell because he’s looking behind you, the flashlight just a little bit off to your left. You turn to see what’s caught his interest, and find it immediately. It’s one of the flowers, but not barren. The petals are a sickly green-blue, the same as the rest of the vines, and the disc is very clearly covered in a thin layer of pollen. Steve shuts the flashlight off and you see how he noticed it一it’s bioluminescent.
“Oh,” you say again, looking back at him. “That’s…even weirder.”
“We should bring that one back,” he says.
“I still don’t think we should touch it,” you say.
“Yeah,” he agrees, surprising you. “Probably not, but一I mean…if we can learn anything about anything it’ll be from that one, right?”
“I…” you start to say, then sigh. “I guess.”
“All right, just,” he says, handing you the flashlight. “Hold this.”
“Do you need the light?” you ask, running your thumb over the button to turn it back on.
“No,” he says, stepping past you and reaching up toward the flower. “I got it一”
As soon as his fingers touch the stem, the flower reacts一actually reacts. It appears to contract, the way you’d expect a Venus fly trap to close when its prey triggers it, and then the petals fall away, down over Steve’s hands, his face, and the pollen follows, the glimmering particles landing on him, on you, wisping away through the trees to settle, no longer glowing, wherever they fell through the stagnant air.
“Steve!” you scold him, but even as you do, you start to feel… off.
“You ok?” Steve asks, turning to you. His eyes meet yours and you feel a pull, you feel the same vertigo you felt when you first arrived here.
“Yeah,” you say, before the world slides sideways. “Wait. No.” You move to brace yourself against the tree, pressing the side of your forearm against it, letting your forehead rest there for a moment as you try to compose yourself.
“No,” Steve echoes you. “Yeah, me… me neither.”
“What the hell was that?” you ask, turning the flashlight on. With the beam lit up again, you can see how shaky your hands are, because you angle it up and despite your best effort, you simply cannot keep the stem of the flower that exploded centered in the light. “Jesus Christ,” you mumble to yourself, dropping the lit flashlight because seeing yourself so obviously affected by whatever you just inhaled is making you feel even more scared than you already are.
You register Steve moving away from you, walking around in the tight space, shaking his hands out like he’s trying to rid them of something.
You suck in a breath.
“Are you like. Hot?” you ask, pulling off the heavy jacket and draping it over your shoulder, just to have something to do with your shaking hands.
“What?” Steve asks in return, but you can hear the tightness in his voice.
You swallow, stepping away from the tree, and because whatever the fuck is happening to the two of you is happening, you bump into him just as he nears you with his pacing, neither paying any mind to the other. Where his hand brushes your arm, your skin tingles, tightens—feels like it’s going to blister. And then it happens to the rest of your body.
But just as quickly as it does, it dissolves away, leaving you feeling cold, wanting.
“Are you ok?” Steve asks again, in a way that you can tell he felt whatever that was too. But also in the way that you can tell he’s, maybe, handling it a little better.
“Still no,” you say.
“Right,” Steve says. “Yeah. ‘Cause you just…” he trails off, and as soon as he mentions it you realize, belatedly, that the searing feeling of his bare skin against yours—your arms mind you—made you loose a moan from deep in your chest, low and unbidden, soft but heavy.
The moment hangs between you for a second, your heart hammering in your chest, an uncomfortable pressure starting to build between your legs.
“Hey,” Steve says, and you look up at him, and when you do you realize he’s much closer than he was moments ago, and he was already right beside you. “Hey, do you, um…” he trails off, and in the ambient light emanating from the flashlight on the ground beside you, you can see his gaze drop down to your lips.
Instinctually一because all of a sudden you feel like every single impulse and sense you have has been reduced to its basest level一you let your eyes lower to his mouth too, and when you see them, when you watch as his teeth worry his lower lip between them, when you see his cheeks hollow for a moment, when you catch a brief glimpse of his tongue, the same question that you’re certain he was about to ask you pops into your mind, and you answer what he didn’t even ask.
“Yes,” you say, and without further hesitation, without any thought at all, you take his face in your hands and press your lips to his.
Simultaneously you feel both immense relief and immeasurable desire, your stomach churning, your lips parting as Steve groans into your mouth. You can’t help but press your hips to his, parting your lips to let his tongue lick against yours, and your hands curl into his hair as you kiss him wildly, tongues and teeth and absolutely no reticence, the desperation clear on your part and his.
“Fuck,” you mutter as his hands tug your tank top up, pushing it over your tits, not bothering to unclasp your bra but just shoving that up and over your chest too, and you don’t even care that he’s undressing you in the middle of the weird ass woods in some alternate dimension. You don’t care that you’ve been stricken with the urge to fuck some guy you barely know, and only know because of some of the direst circumstances in history. You don’t care that he’s caging you in against the tree, the vines and bark scraping against your back as he leans down to bypass your neck completely and latch onto one of your tits, his mouth working at you in a way that you could tell on an ordinary night in an ordinary bed in ordinary Hawkins would feel wonderful, but now is only making the ache between your legs worsen, because you need part of him in contact with part of you and it’s not his mouth on your nipple.
“Steve,” you gasp, tone high, thready. “I need一oh my god, I can’t一” you stop yourself, because you know what it is that you want but you can’t very well tell him that you need his cock. You do not know each other like that, but as soon as the thought crosses your mind, he pulls back from you, shrugging off his jacket as well, letting it fall to the ground behind him as he undoes his jeans and shoves them down.
You’re on him before he even pulls his hands away from the waistband一both hands wrapping around his shaft, coaxing him to hardness even though he’s already most of the way there. Your entire being shudders with relief as soon as you feel his hot, girthy cock in your hands, and he rushes you back against the tree, mouth taking yours again as you stroke him with both hands, smearing the copious amount of precome he’s leaking all down his length. He’s so wet it coats your hands, your wrists even, as you accidentally let them brush against him as you jerk him off.
“This is”一you gasp out as he breaks away to move his lips down to your neck一“weird, right?”
“Yes,” Steve answers, but even as he says it, he’s moving his hands from your waist to your front, fingers curling into the waistband of your jeans and slipping the button. He undoes the zipper and doesn’t even bother trying to lower your pants down to your thighs like his are一he just shoves his hand into your underwear, palm skimming below your belly button until he reaches your mound, his middle finger sliding between your lips to touch your clit, the pad of his finger rubbing over it, not gently, but hard, harsh, immediate pressure that should feel good, but does absolutely nothing for you.
Strangely, you realize一you’re getting more enjoyment out of touching him, than you are from him touching you.
“God, that’s good,” Steve breathes against your mouth, and you realize he must be feeling the same一only getting any relief when he got his hands on you.
“What’s happening?” you ask, lips on the corner of his, breath warm on his cheek.
“I don’t know, I一” Steve says, licking into your mouth before pressing his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as he thrusts his hand down further into your jeans, the force of it moving them down your hips without any help, and then his fingers are sliding through your folds. “You’re一so wet一I, I never felt anyone like, like this一”
“This is fucking,” you stammer, but the thought of exactly what it is leaves you as he curls two fingers inside of you, and he shudders in relief. You pull him closer by his cock, letting one hand move over it as you reach lower, cupping his heavy balls in your hand, massaging them and tipping your head back, eyes fluttering closed as you do.
“We should一stop,” Steve says, but you shake your head, then nod, then shake your head again.
“No, we can’t… Don’t want to,” you admit.
Steve’s voice is thick like honey, dripping with arousal as he speaks to you, tucking his cheek against yours so he can whisper directly into your ear. “Take一take everything off. Turn around.” It’s dark and deep and you reluctantly release his cock, let him slide his fingers out of you, and then the two of you strip the rest of your clothes off, denim landing on the dirt and leaves, his shirt landing in a heap as he helps you with your bra, and then you’re both naked in the cursed forest, and he’s pressing himself against your back, hands roaming your front. It feels nice but does nothing to assuage the arousal still coiling in your belly, and you push yourself into him, the heated skin of his cock smearing precome over your ass as his hips slide against you.
“Steve,” you whine, and your tone spurs him into action, his hands landing on your hips, pushing you down, down to your knees and then all fours, and then one of his hands is sliding down your spine to stop between your shoulder blades, and then the next thing you know, your shoulders and tits are being pressed into the dirt, your ass up in the air, presenting yourself to him. You turn your head as much as you can to look back at him, straining as he holds you down.
He’s kneeling behind you, and you watch as his eyes meet yours, hazy with lust, with desperation, and he only nods once at you before you see him reach for his cock with his free hand and press the head against your weeping slit.
Your whole body quivers, and you would have pushed back if he wasn’t keeping you firmly in place, your arms trapped beneath you, hands scrabbling for purchase on your own thighs, holding onto yourself as you feel the pressure on your pussy increase when Steve leans into you with purpose.
He enters you in one deep, thick stroke, and as soon as you engulf him, as soon as you feel him splitting your walls open on his cock, you shudder and come instantly with a loud cry, sobbing from momentary relief, pleasure raining down over you as the sheen of sweat on your skin worsens. Your entire body is aflame like you’ve got a fever, and you clench around Steve's cock when you feel his hips grinding against your ass as you realize that he came too, suddenly, with a harsh gasp.
But then he’s moving again, back out of you and then pushing in, pushing desperately, chasing the feeling again. Because your first orgasm wasn’t satisfying, barely any of the edge siphoning off despite how much it affected you, and the way he’s digging his fingertips into your hips as he pounds at you tells you his wasn’t either. He’s fucking his come back into your pussy, easing the slide, your thighs dripping with it already as flecks of his release land on your skin.
“Steve,” you say, voice watery, because you haven’t even come down from your first orgasm and you can already feel another one cresting on the horizon.
“Do you一does this一feel good for you, t-too?” he asks, and you know he’s asking because he must feel the same as you一unsatisfied, wanting more, chasing another and another and another.
“Yeah, it一” you say, gasping as he leans over you, drilling his cock into you even deeper, reaching places inside of you you’ve never felt on your own. “You feel so一so good, Steve, please just一” You falter again, but unless you say it how will he know? How will he know how badly you want this, want him, unless you tell him? “Just keep一going, keep, keep coming in一in me, oh, god, I…”
You’d feel embarrassed to sound so wanton and lewd if not for the way he answers you, pressing his hand more firmly against your back, sliding it up to your neck, and then finally, relenting for a brief moment so he can tangle his fist into your hair and use it to press your face down into the dirt.
“You have no一idea,” he replies, his hips snapping against your ass, his cock coated with his own spunk, your fluids, dripping down onto his balls, onto the forest floor. “How good you一you feel, around一fuck, you’re so一so一” He fucks into you again, and you feel his cock twitch deep within you, coming again, his release flooding you, his rigid cock not softening and not leaving your cunt, not fully anyway.
His voice sounds slightly more even when he speaks, but still frenzied.
“You feel that?” he asks, and you nod, sliding one of your hands up your stained thigh, sticky with your arousal. “Feel me inside you, right? Feel how一what you’re doing to me?”
“Steve,” you whimper, as he starts moving again, the wet sounds coming from between your bodies obscene, the sound of him fucking his own come loud, filthy, and it ensnares you, your lips parting of their own accord as you feel the saliva dribbling out of your mouth, but you can’t do much to stop it, not with him holding you down, with your arms tucked beneath you, with the way you’re now rubbing at your own clit because you feel so full with two loads in you that you need to come, need to feel it leak out of your hole around his cock, need the force of your orgasm to empty you so he can do it all over again on a clean slate.
“I can feel you,” Steve says, voice choked as he slams into you and stops, straightening up, releasing your head and your hair and clamping his hands down on your hips, rolling his front shallowly against yours, letting his cock just barely move out before it dips right back in, and the stretch of your slit around him, the feeling of your own hand working at your clit, finally sends you over the edge and you turn your face into the ground, hiding your shame as you realize he just came a third time, your pussy milking the orgasm from him as it spasmed and clenched down, begging it from him. The dirt sticks to your face, your lips and chin and you squeeze your eyes closed as you feel him pull out一again, not fully, only partly because you chase him, leaning back into him, wanting him to stay rooted deep within you一but even as you do, you still feel the thick drops of his come ooze out of you around him, rolling down your thighs, collecting in the crease of your knees.
“Do you feel any一better?” Steve asks, and in spite of the question, he pushes back into you, displacing more of his semen, forcing more of it out around him, staining your front along with his this time.
“Yes,” you answer, “no一can you fuck me a-again?”
Steve’s hands smooth over your back一you feel a little less heady, a little less one-track minded, but the burn is still there, the one that needs him moving into you again, pounding his front against your back, giving it to you over and over.
“I still need it too,” he says, and that makes you feel marginally better until he leans over you, letting his back rest against your front, letting your legs support his weight on top of you as he circles both arms beneath you, one hand pressing against up against your stomach, the other moving between your come-covered thighs to nudge your hand away and let his fingers work at your clit this time.
“Fuck一Steve,” you sob, because he’s not moving this time, just letting his cock sit inside you, heavy, slick with his own spunk, and his breath is heavy in your ear as he just rubs your clit, letting you squeeze down on him, unmoving inside you. Your walls flutter around him, gripping him tight, and Steve’s hand on your clit feels worlds different than your own did一your orgasm takes you over by surprise, hitting you out of nowhere so strongly that you buck back against him, wanting to feel him deeper even though he’s fully seated in you, riding out your orgasm with you until you sigh, eyes closed, cheek pressing to the dirty ground, smearing your own drool against the detritus below you.
His fingers slip away from your clit and he starts moving again, and even though you want it, you whine, the noise in your throat crackly and petulant, and without pulling out of you, needing to stay joined the exact same way you do, he holds you tight against him and rolls the both of you onto your side. He’s still inside you, and with the same arm that he’d just had looped around your stomach, he hooks your leg on his wrist, pulling your leg up to the side and holds it there, out of his way, exposing your cunt as he fucks you from behind this time, the new position just as intense but so, so much better, your back resting against his front, his skin slick with sweat as he clings to you, almost as desperate as you feel.
“Almost一almost there,” he says, and you’re not sure what he means, because you’re still bleary with arousal, still want to come on his cock countless more times, still want to feel him lingering inside you for days.
“Please touch me,” you beg, “need you一need it to be you, it doesn’t一work when it’s me, Steve, please一”
“Sh,” he hushes you, his voice soft as he leans a little further into you, rising to prop himself up on his elbow. He doesn’t release your leg一to the contrary, he leans forward, pushing your leg further up to the crook of his elbow, holding your legs open at an even wider angle, and lets his now free hand slip between your folds to find your clit.
You sob when he does, because you come again the moment he touches it, the swollen bead throbbing beneath the pads of his fingers, kicking under his ministrations as he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, and you rise to your peak again, barely even coming down from the first一or maybe you just didn’t stop coming. You don’t know, you don’t care, because after this many, you’re starting to feel like yourself again, but the feeling is still there, you still need more.
“It’s一so much,” you mumble, and Steve presses a short kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear.
“You feel so good, though,” he says, his hips still curling into yours, his cock not as deep now, both of you contorted around each other, back to front, limbs entangled, his fingers on your clit, the head of his cock in the perfect position to rub repeatedly against your g-spot, and you shudder a sigh as you feel yourself come again, weaker this time, your cunt sopping and sore.
“Come in me again,” you ask weakly, because each time he did, each time he filled you to the brim and it spilled out of you, a little bit of the haze lifted, the feverish impulse lessening.
“Almost,” he replies, thrusting into you, the head of his cock nudging your g-spot and you feel another orgasm beginning to rise, but not strong enough to overtake you yet.
“Please,” you beg, desperate now that you can feel the end might be in sight. You taste dirt in your mouth and feel itchy, skin irritated from twigs and leaves on the ground below you, but they’re the first sensations you’ve felt other than all-consuming arousal since the flower disintegrated onto you both, and you welcome them.
“Just一hold on another一another一” Steve says, and you feel him circle your clit quicker as he fucks into you, his cock dragging against your walls as you tighten up around him, and when he snaps them forward, up into you, shot after shot of his come spurting from the tip of his dick, your whole body tightens, loosens, releases after another orgasm一weak, feeble, and final, you hope一and then you still. Both of you, still, filthy, sweaty messes on the ground, dirty and sticky, skin slick between your thighs, his chest sticking to your back as you pull away from him. You stay on your side, wiping your face with the cleaner of your two hands, scraping away the dirt and spit stuck to your chin. You hear Steve behind you shuffle to his feet, and then his bomber jacket is draped over your shoulders, just to give you some modicum of modesty until you can stand and dress yourself.
“What the fuck happened?” you ask, wiping at the rest of your face now, adjusting the jacket to cover yourself as you feel his spend slowly trickle out of you. You twist, looking up at Steve where he’s standing, pulling his jeans back on. He uses his shirt to wipe his dick clean, his thighs, and then looks over to you.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, and zips his fly before kneeling beside you, making to lift the jacket to wipe you clean with his shirt too, but you bat his hand away. You wanted him so desperately, had him, even, the two of you unable to control yourselves, and now you don’t even want him to look at you.
“Can you get me my一shirt,” you ask, pointing to where your tank top landed.
Wordlessly, Steve gets you your clothes, handing them to you and looking away as you shift yourself to your knees. You suppress the whimper as you feel yourself gaping, the sticky mess of his come falling from your pussy lips, and you try to clean yourself up as best you can, dressing yourself in your jeans and snapping the jacket closed to hide the fact that you’re now shirtless. You both leave the other soiled garments in the woods.
The first half of the walk back is silent, your stoic expression unchanging even as Steve continues acting exactly as he had before: Letting you walk ahead of him, keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t trip, illuminating your path with the flashlight rather than his own.
“Um,” he says, once you start to see the reddish glow indicating that you’re nearing the rift. “Can we talk?”
You sigh. Heavily. “About what.”
“About一what just happened.”
“What happened?” you ask.
His eyes widen, like he’s not sure whether you’re really asking. “We…had一”
“I know what happened, Steve,” you snap. “I mean, why? What was that stuff?”
He closes his mouth, then his eyes, lifting his hand to cover his face for a moment before letting it fall to his side again.
“I don’t know. But I just一I wanted to check whether you’re ok now.”
“I’m fine,” you say, a little sarcastic, but biting it back because he got the same faceful of fuck pollen as you did. “Don’t worry, you won’t catch me begging for your dick again any time soon.”
He blanches, then takes a step toward you. “Hey, that’s not what I meant.”
“Can we not一talk about it?” you ask.
Steve hesitates, frowns. Then nods. “Yeah. Whatever you want.”
&&
The drive back to the Byers house is awkward. You let Steve sit in front next to Jonathan, let Steve answer the questions, let Steve tell Jonathan no一don’t drop you at home. You end up in the driveway of Jonathan’s house, waiting inside Steve’s BMW as he goes in and gives all the details to Nancy this time. He returns the jacket to Mrs. Byers.
He’d been careful with what he said to Jonathan. Some trees, weird flowers, some kind of pollen. It knocked you out for a little while, he explains, some kind of fever or something, that’s why you’re both filthy and sweaty. But you both feel fine now.
Sure.
Steve emerges from the house in another shirt, a polo he’d changed out of before this whole mess, and rounds the hood of the Bimmer. You watch him, wondering why you didn’t interrupt when Jonathan offered to drop you at your place. It would have been easier. You could have shut yourself up inside and never looked twice at Steve again. You only just got involved in this bullshit. You could extricate yourself just as easily.
But you didn’t.
You’d stayed with Steve even when you had the chance for an out.
You’d allowed him to insist that he drive you home, because he wanted more time to talk to you. Which you didn’t want to do but, admittedly, was probably a good idea.
The driver’s side door slams shut as Steve climbs in. You don’t move, legs pressed together, arms crossed over your chest, and Steve fiddles with the keys, not putting them in the ignition.
“So一” he starts, but you cut him off.
“I don’t want to talk outside Jonathan’s house,” you say.
“Right,” he says, starting the car and shifting into gear, heading out back onto the road. He clears his throat. “So.”
“Yeah?” you ask, and he just clears his throat again.
“Are you ok?”
It’s the question you expected but weren’t sure if he would actually ask. Because you’re not, and he’s probably not either.
“I mean, physically,” you say. “Sure.”
“I’m sorry. Obviously I didn’t一know,” he says, drumming his thumb on the steering wheel.
“I’m not blaming you, Steve.”
“It’s my fault.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” you say. “But I said I’m not blaming you. How could you have known, really.”
He glances over at you to find you already looking at him. You shrug as if to impart the age-old adage, c’est la vie. Even though it’s really, really not.
There’s another few minutes of silence, the car humming quietly in the night, and it’s almost peaceful except for the mess still between your legs, your body reminding you of it every time he hits a bump in the road and you feel sore all over again.
“That place… I shouldn’t have let you go down there. It changes you.”
“I’ll say,” you snarked, and Steve looked over at you, a little shocked at how blasé you were in that moment, then huffed an unamused laugh.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Yeah, I know. It’s一”
“No, for一bringing you. Jonathan should have一”
“I’d love to hear what would have happened if it had been you and Jonathan down there,” you say, keeping your face turned toward the window.
“Ok, well一that’s一” Steve stammers, and you can’t help but laugh a little.
It feels nice, actually, laughing after needing to use Steve’s body in the most perverse, insane way ever, and letting him do the same to yours.
“You didn’t have to drive me,” you say, as Steve turns into the lot where you still live, both of you averting your eyes from Eddie’s residence. Or… what used to be.
“I wanted to,” he says, simply, and when he pulls up outside of your door, he puts the car into park and turns it off, pulling the key from the ignition.
“What are you doing?” you ask, eyeing him as he reaches for the door handle and pockets his keys.
“Walking you to your door,” he says, like it’s obvious.
You want to question him, but you don’t. You just get out of the car, slam the door behind you, and wait for him to move next to you. You lead him, and when he follows you up the steps, holds the door for you when you open it, and enters behind you, you don’t question that either.
Nor does he wait for you to. “I don’t… sleep that great anymore, after… you know, going down there. Figured you might want. I dunno. A friendly face nearby. Just in case.”
You undo the jacket’s fastenings, but hold it closed, your bra shoved into the pocket, your upper half bare beneath the canvas.
“Ok,” you say, not fighting him on it, and just point at the couch behind him. “You can stay there. My mom works an overnight shift so if you can be out by 7:00, I’d appreciate it.”
Steve looks behind himself, then nods. “Sounds good.”
You wait for him to turn and settle down onto it before padding down the hall to the bathroom. The door sticks when you close it, so you never do, just leaving it barely ajar as you strip off the jacket and your jeans, the crotch still wet with Steve’s come. You leave the clothes in a pile on the floor and start the shower, waiting for the water to warm before stepping in; in the meantime, you examine yourself in the mirror. There’s still some dirt scuffed on your cheek; you try to wipe it away with the heel of your hand but it isn’t budging, so you just check yourself out otherwise instead. Your lips are still swollen from where you’d bitten them. You’ve got some bruises and scrapes on your shoulders and chest, your arms and elbows, but there’s no pallor to your skin so you figure you’re fucking fine. Just peachy.
You pull the shower curtain and step in, scrubbing your body hard, your arms and legs, focusing on the marred areas of skin, the places you know need some extra care. You wash thoroughly, your face, your thighs, everything in between them, and when you emerge wrapped in a towel, you see Steve dozing off on your couch.
You pull the towel tighter around you, watch him for a moment longer, then call out to him.
“Hey.”
His eyes flutter open, taking in the sight of you in the hall, squinting a little like he might have missed something in the interim of sitting down and waking up.
“You ok?” he asks.
You don’t answer一at least, not what he asked you. “My bed’s more comfortable than the couch.”
He studies you一you can feel the force of his look even with how far away he is. He hesitates.
“I’m only offering once,” you say, and that, at least, gets him to move, shifting his weight to the edge of the sofa cushion.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” you say, unwavering, and he makes his way from the couch to the hall, looking down at you as he steps past you into your room. You follow him inside and close the door behind you with a low click.
summary: you've been talking to someone with the username smashingkeys69 on a private chat site for some weeks, oblivious to the fact that the guy behind the profile is your coworker, who you might not be too fond of.
warnings: SMUT +18 MDNI, sexting (including breast play, fingering, blowjob, riding), nipple play, masturbation (female and male), dirty talk ig, fingering, multiple orgasms, mention of spit, mention of cum, semi public? (i mean is it public if youre in your bathroom at work but no one is there with you?), description of nsfw audio, mostly text messages
w.c.: 2,5k
author's note: first of all this one is for my julsita who not only is keys #1 girlfriend but also heard my idea first <3 also, a big big big thanks to blaize for proof reading and being the sweetest angel ever. yeah i know that you'd have to be a bit stupid to not realize the connection between the "keys" in the username and the nickname but can't a girl have some fun, ok bye.
you were barely finishing your first cup of coffee of the morning when he got up from his chair across yours. until then, you’d barely been able to see him as the big computer screens that separated you both blocked the view.
good, you thought. that way you wouldn’t have to endure his insufferable, bitchy face each time you pointed out a flaw on his code.
your eyes followed him until he disappeared down the hallway, cursing him under your breath as tomorrow’s deadline stared back at you, why the fuck does he think this is a good time to take a break, you knew it wasn’t like him.
but the thought of him flew from your mind the moment you heard your phone ping, the notification on your screen pulled a smirk on your lips that you didn’t even try to fight back.
smashingkeys69: r u free right now?
without meaning to you were already pressing your thighs together. the idea of locking yourself in one of soonami’s bathrooms made you swallow hard as you felt heat rushing to your cheeks.
you scanned the room before answering, everyone was locked in in whatever it was they were doing.
you: no but i can make myself free
you: give me 2 mins
it didn’t take you long to get from your shared desk to the women’s bathroom. you felt your skin prickling in response to how cold the room was. thankfully, all the cubicles were open, meaning you were completely alone and free to lock yourself inside the one farthest from the door, too scared to be heard.
you: okay
you: now i’m free
his reply came instantly.
smashingkeys69: what r u wearing
you sighed when you realized your work outfit was probably the least sexy thing in the world and for a moment thought about lying to him, but what was the point. he knew you were probably at work just as you knew he also was.
if only you were aware of the one digit meters that separated you from him in that moment.
you: the most boring work clothes
smashingkeys69: work clothes can be sexy
you: ur not helping set the mood w that
smashingkeys69: and ur not helping w the attitude
smashingkeys69: cmon tell me
you: a band tshirt and jeans
smashingkeys69: what band
you: srsly is it important
smashingkeys69: tryin to get to know you
you: why
smashingkeys69: cause no ones ever gotten me as hard as you do
you loved how with just some words he had pulled you in and made the heat on your cheeks travel to your stomach, sitting down on it with anticipation at what you knew was about to go down.
you: blur.
on the other bathroom, right next to the one you had settled in, keys fumbled with the button of his jeans, trying to get it open onehanded, knowing that your short answer to his stupid question was a sign that you wanted to get off as much he did. when the fabric hit the floor along with his underwear he shivered from the cold, the crash of sensations between the air and his hot skin adding on to the pleasure he was feeling.
smashingkeys69: take it off
you: im in my works bathroom
smashingkeys69: can u work w me
you: fine
smashingkeys69: take your bra off too
you knew he would like your next message.
you: im not wearing any
smashingkeys69: fuck
you: its off
you: tell me what youd do with em
seeing him texting and stopping, texting and stopping, felt like torture every single time.
smashingkeys69: touch them
smashingkeys69: think bout my hands instead of urs
smashingkeys69: id grab them both and kiss and bite down ur neck
you felt your free hand sliding up your bare stomach and stopping over your breast, cupping it and sighing.
keys remembered the picture of them you had sent him once and imagined yourself squishing them slightly, both free and full against your hand. he moaned.
you: id let u mark me wherever u wanted
smashingkeys69: good
smashingkeys69: id start on ur neck and make my way down slowly
smashingkeys69: taking my time just to torture u
you: youd love that wouldnt u
smashingkeys69: id love to hear u moan my name when i play with ur nipple
you followed his orders, pinching one of your nipples between the pad of your thumb and index finger and rolling it. if you knew what his name was, you’d whisper it for yourself.
keys took the lack of answer from you as asking him to go on, he was sure you were playing with the hard bud just as he had said.
smashingkeys69: i suck on it and flick my tongue over it as if it were your pussy
your thumb brushed over your nipple slowly once, twice, before you flicked it and gasped at the sudden impact.
on the other room keys was fighting hard not to start jerking himself off, his dick already hard and hitting his stomach, begging for attention that it would get soon.
smashingkeys69: my hand goes down ur body and and sneaks under your pants feeling you warm and wet
smashingkeys69: do that for me now
smashingkeys69: touch yourself
smashingkeys69: r u wet
you don’t waste time and let your jeans fall to your ankles just to shimmy your panties down your legs, completely naked now, shoulders resting against the wall. your fingers slid down from your tits, circling slowly on your pussy as soon as they touched it.
you: m so wet
you: youd slide in so easily
smashingkeys69: dont get ahead of urself
smashingkeys69: fuck urself w ur fingers
smashingkeys69: 2 of them
smashingkeys69: pretend that their mine
smashingkeys69: that its me holding u open
smashingkeys69: pumping them into u until ur shaking under me telling me how good i make u feel
smashingkeys69: tell me how it feels
you: it feels so good
your movements got faster and your back arched as you approached your peak and a whine left your lips, trying to shut yourself up with the hand holding your phone. but it didn’t last long before it vibrated on your hand, the need to read what he was saying was stronger in your fuzzy head than the fear of being heard.
smashingkeys69: go faster and play with ur clit
smashingkeys69: tell me how close u r
you: m so close
you: im waitin for u to tell me
smashingkeys69: ur waiting for my permission to cum?
you: yes
it was all you managed to write through your blurry vision and knees about to buckle, forcing you to hold yourself upright by resting your free forearm against the wall in front of you as two of your fingers were still getting in and out of your cunt.
smashingkeys69: good girl
smashingkeys69: make urself cum thinkin of me
you: m
smashingkeys69: i know
you curled your fingers inside of yourself and your rhythm faltered when you felt your climax approaching. “fuck. fuck. fuck” you whispered. it only took three more seconds for your thighs to tremble and your arousal to coat your fingers as your curses were replaced with a cry you weren’t able to hide. the cold of the bathroom had turned hot long ago and it wasn’t helping you catch your breath and took your fingers out, shinny under the white lights.
you: holy fuck
smashingkeys69: how do u feel
you: amazing
you: but we arent done yet
smashingkeys69: wasnt expecting to
smashingkeys69: have u cleaned ur fingers yet
you: i was bout to
smashingkeys69: suck them
you: what
smashingkeys69: if they were mine id suck them clean as soon as id gotten them out of your pussy
smashingkeys69: so put them in your mouth and suck them clean
compliant, you let your two digits past your lips and rested them against your tongue, savoring your own cum before sliding them out and swallowing. you attempted to dry them off against the skin on your sides, ready to type again and give back the favor.
you: get ur dick out
smashingkeys69: its been out
you were thankful for past you that had sent him a picture of your boobs, it had gotten you one of his length back, even if you usually hated dick pics. ‘cause now you know what it looked like. you know about how it tilts slightly to the right when it’s hard, about the big undervein that runs along it, and of course you also know about his dick being big compared to his hand that you were sure was not small.
you: good cause idk how much longer i have
smashingkeys69: u in a hurry?
you: i should be doing the work my coworker isnt doing rn
smashingkeys69: sounds like an asshole
you: he is
you: whatever
you: where were we
smashingkeys69: my dicks out
you: yeah right
you: r u hard
smashingkeys69: if i dont start jerking off rn i might die
you: dramatic much??
smashingkeys69: youve no idea how u kill me
you: show me then
smashingkeys69: help me then
smashingkeys69: dyou think u could handle it
you: ur big dick?
you: u know id take it so well
you: but id have to prep u for that first
smashingkeys69: mhm how would u do that tell me
you: i would trail my tongue from ur belly all the way to ur base
you: over the pretty happy trail ik u have
keys dropped one of his hands from his phone and skimmed it over his chest, through the hair he had gotten to learn you loved and stopped right above his pubes, waiting to read what you’d tell him to do.
smashingkeys69: u like the happy trail
you: i love the happy trail
you: id leave sloppy kisses all over it
you: and youd beg me to put your dick in my mouth
smashingkeys69: id grab u by the hair and pull u up
smashingkeys69: id kiss u and bite down on ur lip before telling u to suck me off if u want to cum again later
you: thats hot
smashingkeys69: ik u like it rough
you: id let u guide me down on my knees
you: i wouldnt want u to let go of my hair
smashingkeys69: i wouldnt
smashingkeys69: id use it to guide u to my dick
you: i wouldnt start easy
you: id kiss ur tip first and then get all ur dick inside my mouth til my nose touches ur skin
they didn’t have much time and keys knew it. she had to get back to work just as much as he had to get back to his before he was murdered, funny enough, by you. so he set a quick and rough pace instantly, using the precum that had already been leaking from his tip from making you cum and his own spit as lube. his hand was pumping fast and the wet sound it made mixed with his low groan, jaw clenched and eyes locked on his phone screen, watching the typing bubble laugh at his eagerness.
you: r u jerking off
smashingkeys69: yeah
smashingkeys69: keep goin
you: id love to see ur face while u fuck my mouth
you: id never stop looking at u even when my eyes r watering
you: or when ur head hits the back of my throat over and over again and it gets too much
smashingkeys69: id make u gag on it
you: id love to edge you just to pin u down and climb on ur lap
you: sinking down on u slowly til ur so deep inside of me that we can’t think
keys found himself moaning yeah as if you were able to hear him, only to realize that you couldn’t. his hips slammed into his fist while he typed with practiced ease.
smashingkeys69: yeah
smashingkeys69: stretching u so good
you couldn’t help but taking your hand to your pussy and starting to play with yourself again, dragging your fingers over your folds and spreading them open to tease at your entrance while you whined.
you were still sensitive from your first orgasm so it wasn’t hard to get you high again.
you: im dripping
smashingkeys69: u playing w urself again
you: couldnt help myself
smashingkeys69: keep going
smashingkeys69: we’ll cum together
smashingkeys69: god id love to be tasting u
you: i want u to fuck me
smashingkeys69: i would baby
smashingkeys69: id open ur legs and bury myself inside ur cunt
smashingkeys69: youd be feeling me for days
you: i wish i could hear u rn
his messages stopped for a few seconds. at first you just thought he was too close to his orgasm to be able to text you. but when fifteen seconds went by and he didn’t reply you were about to ask him if he was okay when a bubble came through. but this time it wasn’t only a text.
it was a voice note, followed by a text.
smashingkeys69: cum to that
you pressed play on the 12 seconds audio and quickly took your phone to your ear.
the sound of skin against skin filled you, making you quicken the circles on your clit. you heard the wet sounds of what you thought to be precum or spit and ragged breathing. it was him, of course. and if hearing his panting was taking you to the edge, what sent you flying was the smallest whisper of fuck. one he had clearly tried to repress but gave up soon, letting his moans and whimpers out for you to hear.
your legs pressed together and trembled as you came to the sound of what had been his own orgasm just seconds before.
hand back on the wall to support yourself while you waited for your dizziness to leave you.
smashingkeys69: u okay
you: fantastic
you: u
smashingkeys69: never been better
you: i gotta get back to work
smashingkeys69: me too
smashingkeys69: ill text u tonight
you: deal
you looked at the time and realized you had been gone for almost twenty minutes, hurrying to get your clothes back on and arranging by looking at the bathroom mirror. once the front of your shirt was tucked a bit inside of your jeans you washed your hands but didn’t dry them with paper towels. instead, you pressed them to the back of your head, attempting to cool down.
over in the men’s bathroom keys had finished washing his hands and his face, ready to go back to his desk. only to open the door at the same time you walked out of the women’s bathroom. his eyes took in your flustered cheeks and dropped to your shirt.
blur.
“oh, fuck me” he said in disbelief.
you looked at him confused, but then your eyes followed his and you noticed the reason for his sudden distress. it was your shirt.
you looked back at him horrified as you connected the dots you now know you should’ve realized a long time ago.
smashingkeys69.
smashing keys, as in keys mckeys, aka the guy you shared a desk with.
summary: soonami studios forces you and keys mckey into a shared apartment as a temporary housing arrangement. at first, it's just surviving each other - the arguments, the competition, the constant tension of being around someone who gets under your skin too easily. but the longer it goes on, the harder it becomes to ignore how naturally your lives start folding into each other. and once someone becomes part of your everyday life, losing them starts feeling a lot more dangerous.
warnings: forced proximity, workplace rivalry, profanity, tension, mutual annoyance, emotionally unavailable behavior, reader and keys being incapable of communicating normally, housing instability, mild flirting if you squint, sarcasm, workplace chaos
You got there twenty minutes early, which apparently was a mistake since no other intern was. The lobby of Soonami Studios is busy in a way that doesn’t include you. People move through it like they already belong here, badges tapping against glass doors, conversations picking up mid-sentence, steps that don’t slow down or second-guess. You stand just inside the entrance for a second too long, adjusting your bag on your shoulder like you’re waiting for someone to tell you what to do next. You could’ve shown up exactly on time. You could’ve waited outside, walked in with everyone else, blended into something that already existed instead of standing here like you’re trying to figure out where you fit in it.
You let out a quiet breath through your nose, pushing yourself forward before you can overthink it again. It’s your first day, you’re supposed to be here. That has to count for something.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, you try to ignore it but you can’t. You already know what it is. Same apartment listing site, same problem. Same prices that don’t work no matter how many times you look at them. You scroll once, twice, like there’s going to be something new, something reasonable, something that doesn’t give you a headache.
The cubicle they give you is smaller than you expected. Not bad, just like it was set up for someone passing through, not someone staying. A desk, a chair that rolls too easily, a divider that barely reaches above eye level when you sit. There’s a desktop waiting to be logged into and a pen left behind in the corner. You set your bag down slowly, taking a second to look at it.
You sink into the chair, adjusting it slightly as it rolls back an inch more than you meant it to. Around you, people are already working—typing, talking, moving like they’ve done this a hundred times before. You try not to stare, try not to look like you’re taking everything in too fast. You’ll get used to it, eventually. Out of nowhere, you heard a masculine voice say your name. You look up quickly, your manager Parker stands just outside your cubicle, one hand resting lightly against the divider. He looks exactly how he did during your interview. Calm, put together, like nothing here ever really goes wrong.
“Hi—yeah,” you say, straightening a little. “Hi.”
“Welcome,” he says easily. “Settling in okay?”
“Yeah,” you answer, a little too fast. “I mean—Yes. I’m good.”
He nods like he expected that. “Come on,” he says after a second, gesturing down the aisle. “I’ll walk you through things.”
You grab your badge off the desk and stand, falling into step beside him. The office feels different when you’re actually moving through it, less like something you’re watching and more like something you’re part of, even if you’re still figuring out where you fit in.
“UI/UX is over here,” he says, motioning toward a section filled with dual monitors and half-finished layouts pulled up on screens. “You’ll be working with them primarily. Interface design, user flow, making sure things feel intuitive for the player.”
You nod. “Okay.”
“You’ll be collaborating with the dev team a lot,” he adds. “What you design, they build. So there’s a lot of back and forth.”
He slows slightly as you pass another area. “Deadlines can get tight, but don’t get stuck on something longer than you need to. Ask questions.”
“Got it.”
“You’ve got a good portfolio,” he continues, glancing back at you briefly. “We’re expecting you to contribute, not just observe.”
“Okay,” you say, quieter. “I will.”
“I did see your email,” he adds, almost casually.
Your stomach tightens. “Yeah,” you say, trying to keep it light. “I just—sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a whole thing. I just needed to figure something out with housing.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “You’re not the only one.”
You blink. “Oh.”
“I’ve got someone else in a similar situation,” he continues. “Out-of-town, nothing lined up yet.”
A small bit of tension eases in your chest. “Okay,” you say. “That’s… good.”
“We don’t usually handle housing for interns,” he adds, “but I took another look at your resume.” That catches you off guard. “And theirs,” he says.
You glance at him.
“You’re both strong,” he continues. “Stronger than most we get at this level. So I figured it was worth trying to make something work.”
You don’t say anything, just nod, letting him keep going.
“We had a unit open up nearby,” he says. “Two-bedroom. Walking distance from here. It’s not official—more of a temporary solution. A favor, really. You’d each have your own room, just sharing the space.”
“If you’re both comfortable with it,” he finishes.
You hesitate for a second, already knowing there’s a catch. “Who’s the other intern?” you ask.
You try not to think too hard about what kind of person they are. Whether they’re awkward or quiet or messy or the type to leave dishes in the sink for days. Whether they snore. Whether they’ll talk too much. Whether this is going to turn into one of those horror stories people tell later to make themselves laugh. You barely even know where you’re sleeping next week and somehow now you’re about to discuss living with a complete stranger.
Your manager doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest. He keeps talking as he walks, pointing out sections of the office you pass like this is still part of the tour. “Most intern teams stay pretty collaborative,” he says casually. “Especially in your department. We try to avoid keeping people boxed into one thing too early.”
You nod, though you’re only half listening now. Your brain’s somewhere else entirely. The office door comes into view at the end of the hallway. Your manager reaches for the handle without hesitation.
“Like I said,” he says, glancing back at you briefly, “this is completely up to you both. If either of you are uncomfortable, we can try to figure something else out.”
That somehow makes you more nervous.
Your manager, Parker, opened the door and there was a guy sitting down in the office already. For a second, all you really register is that he looks just as out of place as you feel. His hair falls messily over his forehead like he’s pushed his hands through it too many times to care anymore, and there’s a pair of thin-framed glasses resting low enough on his nose that he keeps looking over them instead of through them. Sleeves pushed up slightly at the wrists, one leg bouncing faintly under the chair, fingers tapping once against the side of his coffee cup before going still again. Defined jaw, soft mouth, eyes that look like they’re constantly focused on something five steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He doesn’t smile when you walk in, but there’s still something almost amused sitting underneath his expression, like he’s already making observations he’s not saying out loud.
The worst part is that he looks like he belongs here.
He glances up the second the door opens, eyes flicking toward you first, then your manager.
“Perfect,” your manager says easily, stepping past both of you and toward his desk. “Now everyone’s here.”
The guy sets his coffee down slowly, straightening just slightly in his chair. Up close, he looks a little tired. Not exhausted exactly, just the kind of tired that comes from staring at screens too long.
Your manager gestures between the two of you, he said your name then, “This is Walter Keys McKey.”
The guy lifts a hand slightly in acknowledgment before leaning back again.“Please don’t call me Walter,” he says immediately.
You blink once, catching you off guard. Parker snorts quietly like he’s heard that sentence a hundred times before.“He goes by Keys,” Parker explains.
“Yeah,” Keys mutters.
Parker gestures toward you then. “And this,” he says, looking back at Keys, “is the other intern I was telling you about.”
Keys’ eyes flick toward you again.
“She’ll be working on interface and visual systems mostly,” Parker continues casually. “Strong portfolio. Fast learner. Probably one of the better applications we got this cycle.”
Keys raises his eyebrows slightly at that before looking back at you again.
“She’s also apparently homeless,” Parker adds bluntly.
“Parker,” you say instantly.
“What?” he asks innocently. “You literally said that in your email.”
Keys snorts quietly into his coffee cup before trying to hide it behind another sip. Your eyes narrow immediately.
“Oh, good,” you mutter. “Love that this is my introduction.”
“To be fair,” Keys says finally, setting his coffee back down, “mine wasn’t much better.”
Parker points toward him immediately. “Yeah. He wrote me a three paragraph email about how he couldn’t afford rent without selling a kidney.”
Keys shrugs slightly. “The market’s bad right now.”
You let out a laugh before you can stop yourself.
Keys glances toward you almost immediately afterward.
Parker moves around behind his desk then, completely unaware of the weird shift in energy happening across the room. “Anyway,” he says while shuffling through papers, “you two actually have a lot in common professionally.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Keys says casually.
You look at him immediately, he doesn’t even look apologetic.
Parker ignores that completely. “Both of you scored ridiculously high during application review. Similar strengths too. Problem solving, adaptability, creativity—”
“Competitive,” Keys adds dryly.
Parker points at him once. “Very competitive.”
You narrow your eyes slightly. “Is that supposed to be a warning?”
“A little,” Parker admits.
Keys leans back farther in his chair. “I just don’t love working with people who slow projects down.”
Your eyebrows lift immediately, “That sounds like something someone says right before becoming unbearable in a group setting.”
Keys looks toward you calmly. “I usually end up being right.”
“Oh, so you’re one of those.”
“One of what?”
“The kind of guy who thinks being condescending counts as a personality trait.”
Parker physically closes his eyes for a second like a man already developing a migraine.
Keys tilts his head slightly toward you. “You formed that opinion in under thirty seconds?”
“You made it easy.”
“That’s impressive,” he says flatly. “Usually people wait at least a week before deciding they hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” you reply instantly.
Keys raises his eyebrows slightly.
You pause.
“…yet.”
That finally gets a real reaction out of him. Some amusement at least.
Parker clears his throat loudly before the conversation can spiral farther. “Okay,” he says carefully, “before the two of you start fist fighting in my office—”
“She started it,” Keys says immediately.
Your jaw drops. “Oh my god.”
Parker points between both of you. “This is exactly why I hesitated before bringing up the shared apartment.”
“The shared apartment?” Keys repeats slowly.
Parker nods once before leaning back in his chair. “Like I said earlier, the company owns a furnished two bedroom apartment nearby. Since both of you emailed about housing issues…” He gestures vaguely between you. “I thought this might help.”
Keys leans forward first. “No offense,” he says while looking directly at you now, “but this feels like a terrible idea.”
You blink at him. “Oh, none taken. I was literally thinking the same thing.”
“Great.”
“Fantastic.”
You glance sideways before you can stop yourself. Keys is already looking at the manager, jaw resting lightly against his knuckles, expression unreadable.
“We had a two-bedroom unit open nearby,” your manager continues. “Walking distance from the office. Furnished. Temporary.”
“You’d each have your own room,” he says. “Shared common space. That’s it.” Then your manager adds, “There’s one other thing.”
You don’t know why that immediately feels ominous.
“You’re both on the same placement track.”
Your brows knit slightly. “Meaning..?”
“It means,” he says calmly, “that while your departments differ slightly, you’ll both be working under the same branch of development.”
Beside you, Keys sits up a little straighter. Parker keeps going, he points at you. “Your focus is UI and player experience. Keys, yours is systems implementation and backend integration. Your work will overlap constantly.”
“At the end of the internship,” he says, “there will be one full-time position available.”
You actually thought you heard him wrong for a second. “One?” you repeat.
“One,” he confirms.
You glance over slowly, Keys is already looking at you. Like the second your manager said one position, something clicked into place for him.
Competition.
“We’re not expecting hostility,” Parker says lightly, almost amused. “You’ll still be collaborating on projects. But yes, technically speaking, you’re competing for the same role.”
You barely know this person, and now you’re apparently supposed to live with him and compete against him at the same time.
“So,” Keys says finally, leaning back slightly again, “best-case scenario, we either become coworkers…” His eyes flick toward you briefly. “…or one of us gets unemployed.”
Parker laughs. “You’ll both survive,” he says easily.
You glance at Keys again, just for a second this time, trying to get a read on him. He doesn’t exactly look thrilled about any of this, but he also doesn’t look like he’s backing out. Which probably means you aren’t either.
You look back toward Parker. “How far is the apartment?”
“Five-minute walk.”
You exhale slowly through your nose, staring down at your hands for a second before nodding once. “Okay.”
Beside you, Keys is quiet for another second longer. “…yeah,” he says. “Okay.”
Your manager nods, satisfied. “Good. I’ll have the keys waiting for you with Kenzie the receptionist downstairs after work.”
Neither of you say anything for a second after that. The conversation feels oddly finished, like the room itself already moved on before you did. Parker reaches for something on his desk. A folder, another email, some other problem waiting for him and it becomes very clear that to him, this arrangement is simple. Meanwhile, you’re sitting there trying to process the fact that less than twenty minutes into your first day, you somehow agreed to live with a stranger competing against you for the same position.
Parker glances between you both one last time. “You’ll get your project assignments by the end of the day. For now, just settle in. Meet your teams. Try not to stress yourselves out too much.”
You nod anyway, adjusting your grip on your folder before standing. Besides you, Keys does the same, slower somehow, like he’s still mentally catching up to the conversation. For a second, the two of you just awkwardly stand there. Then Parker’s already looking back down at his computer.
You glance toward the door first and Keys notices immediately, standing back just enough to let you walk out ahead of him. “Thanks,” you mutter automatically as you pass him.
“Yeah.”
The door shuts softly behind you, cutting off Parker’s office from the rest of the building again. For a second, neither of you moves. People pass through the hallway around you, keyboards clicking faintly from nearby cubicles, conversations carrying from somewhere down the hall, but the silence between you feels separate from all of it.
You shift your folder against your chest. “So…”
Keys looks over at you.
“This is weird, right?” you ask.
The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, almost like he wasn’t expecting you to say that first. “A little.”
“A little?”
“You could’ve said no.”
“So could you.”
“Yeah,” he says easily. “But unlike you, I enjoy not couch surfing.”
You stare at him for half a second. “…you’re annoying already.”
“Good to know.”
You start walking before the conversation can stall out again, hearing his footsteps fall into pace beside yours a second later. The elevator at the end of the hall dings open just as you reach it, and the two of you step inside together. The silence comes back immediately. You press the button for your floor, then lean back lightly against the wall, staring ahead while the doors slide shut. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Keys adjusting the sleeves of his black button-up before shoving his hands into his pockets.
The elevator hums quietly as it moves.
“So,” you say eventually, mostly because the silence is starting to feel intentional now. “Backend systems?”
He glances over. “UI?”
You nod once.
“Hm.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You said it like it meant something.”
“It didn’t.”
You narrow your eyes slightly. “God, help me.”
“You seem like you redesign things that already work.”
Your eyebrows lift immediately. “You haven’t even seen my work.”
“I saw your portfolio.”
That catches you off guard. “You looked at my portfolio?”
“You were sitting right next to me in Parker’s office while he talked about it for five minutes,” he says flatly. “Kind of hard to avoid.”
You fold your arms loosely. “And?”
“And it’s very…” He pauses just long enough to make it irritating. “…pretty.”
You let out a short laugh. “Wow. You really are a developer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you think functionality matters more than design.”
“It does.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It literally does.”
You shake your head immediately. “See? Annoying.”
“And you sound expensive.”
“What does that even mean?”
The elevator dings before he can answer. The doors slide open. Keys steps out first this time, glancing back briefly when he realizes you’re still staring at him. “…you coming?” he asks.
You blink once, then step out after him. The hallway outside the elevator is quieter than the rest of the office, lined with dark carpet and glass windows that look out over the city below. Keys slows just enough for you to walk beside him again, though it doesn’t feel intentional.
“So?” you say after a second. “You’re just not gonna explain that?”
He presses the button to another hallway door with his badge. “Explain what?”
“You saying I sound expensive.”
“I said you sound expensive, not that you are.”
“That somehow made it worse.”
Keys pushes the door open, holding it there just long enough for you to walk through first. “You talk like the type of person who’d spend six hours picking a font.”
You let out a short laugh. “Okay, first of all, fonts matter.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“They literally affect readability.”
“They literally don’t.”
You stop walking long enough to stare at him. “You’re one of those people who thinks default settings are acceptable, aren’t you?”
“I think if something already works, you don’t need to redesign it every five minutes.”
“That’s because you people think functionality is enough.”
“You people?”
“Yes. Developers.”
Keys glances over at you, finally looking slightly entertained. “You’ve known me for, what, twenty minutes?”
“And I already have you figured out.”
“That’s impressive,” he says dryly. “Wrong. But impressive.”
The two of you round another corner, and you’re suddenly very aware of how strange this entire situation actually is. You met him less than half an hour ago. You still barely know anything about him besides the fact that he’s sarcastic, works in backend systems, and apparently enjoys arguing just to argue.
“So what’s your deal?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
Keys glances over. “My deal?”
“Yeah. Like… where are you from?”
“Oh.” He adjusts the strap of his bag higher onto his shoulder. “Seattle.”
You nod once. “Okay. That explains a lot.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You look like you haven’t seen sunlight in years.”
He deadpans immediately. “Good one.”
“Thank you.”
“And where are you from?”
You glance over at him briefly. “California.”
“Yeah. That tracks.”
You reach the row of cubicles again, slowing near yours while Keys continues walking another few steps toward his side of the office. He glances back when he realizes you stopped.
“Well,” you say, adjusting your bag higher onto your shoulder, “I should probably see if I can actually get some work done.”
Keys nods once. “Probably a good idea.”
“Yeah.” You gesture vaguely toward him. “Some of us didn’t move across the country just to stand around arguing with men who look like they correct grammar for fun.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “I don’t correct grammar.”
“Not out loud, maybe.” You point toward your cubicle. “Anyway, I have better things to do.”
“Like what?”
You glance at your still-unopened computer. “…wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Okay well, good luck with that,” he says.
You narrow your eyes immediately. “Was that condescending?”
“A little.”
“Wow. We really are off to a great start.”
“Could be worse.”
You scoff softly. “Don’t jinx it.”
Then, before he can say something else irritating, you turn and head back toward your cubicle. Even from behind you, you can practically feel him watching you for a second longer than necessary. The office around you buzzes softly with overlapping conversations, keyboards clicking, phones ringing somewhere farther down the hall. A few people glance your way curiously before going back to their screens. You barely sit down before another voice cuts in from beside you.
“Okay,” a girl says quietly, leaning against the divider between cubicles, “what was that?”
You look up immediately.
The girl leaning against your cubicle wall smiles first. Soft features, long dirty blonde hair falling over one shoulder, oversized cardigan hanging off her arm. She looks approachable immediately. The kind of person who probably knows everybody’s business without being weird about it.
Beside her, the other girl has sharp small eyeliner, round blue light tinted glasses, rosey cheeks, and the kind of expression that says she’s already decided this situation is entertaining. Lanyard clipped to her jeans, rings covering half her fingers, one brow raised like she’s actively waiting for drama to unfold.
“Okay,” the second girl says immediately, “what the hell was that?”
You blink. “What was what?”
“The weird heated enemy thing you just had going on with Keys,” she says.
Becca groans instantly beside her. “Eve.”
“What?” Eve defends. “You saw it too.”
“I met him like twenty minutes ago,” you say.
“That’s somehow worse,” Eve says immediately.
Becca laughs softly before holding her hand out toward you. “I’m Becca, by the way.”
“And I’m Eve,” the other girl says.
“Unfortunately.” Becca rolls her eyes playfully.
Eve points at her. “See? This is what I deal with all day.”
“You literally create ninety percent of your own problems.”
“And the other ten percent are caused by engineering.”
Your eyes flick automatically toward the other side of the office again, landing on Keys. He’s leaned back in his chair now, one hand resting against his mouth while he squints at something on his monitor. Glasses slipping lower on his nose again while he types one-handed like he’s already irritated with whatever he’s working on. Then, like he can physically feel you looking at him, his eyes flick up. Straight toward you, causing you to look away.
“…and that one specifically,” Eve adds.
You let out a quiet breath through your nose. “Please tell me he’s not always like that.”
Eve snorts. “Girl, we met him today too.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Becca says with a laugh. “You’re not alone. Parker introduced him to us this morning and within five minutes Eve already called him emotionally unavailable.”
“Because he is,” Eve defends instantly.
Across the room, Keys shifts in his chair slightly, still typing.
“He hasn’t even been here a full day,” you point out.
“And yet somehow he already acts like he’s correcting everyone’s code personally,” Eve says.
“That’s because he probably is,” Becca mutters.
You glance over again before you can stop yourself. You narrow your eyes at him automatically before turning back around.
Eve follows your line of sight for a second before shrugging slightly.
“I mean,” she says casually, “he’s annoying, but unfortunately he is cute.”
Becca snorts softly into her coffee. “Very unfortunately.”
You blink once. “…him?”
Eve looks at you like that’s the most obvious thing she’s ever heard. “Yes, him.”
You physically grimace. “No.”
“Girl, be serious.”
“He looks like he’d explain cryptocurrency at a party.”
“That doesn’t cancel out the face,” Eve argues.
Becca nods slightly. “The glasses situation is helping him a lot.”
You glance over again against your better judgment. Keys pushes his glasses farther up his nose absentmindedly while staring at his screen.
“No,” you repeat firmly.
Eve grins. “Oh, so you’ve thought about it enough to disagree passionately.”
“I hate both of you already.”
“That’s fine,” Becca says easily. “We’re still right.”
Before you can defend yourself again, one of the office phones rings sharply somewhere behind you.
Becca immediately groans. “Oh no.”
Eve points at her. “Don’t make that face. You answer it.”
“You answer it.”
Finally, Becca reaches across your desk and hits the speaker button dramatically.
“Design department,” she says.
“Hi,” a voice says immediately. “Quick question. Why are none of you answering? I called like fifteen times.”
Eve snorts instantly. “Morning, Emi.”
“Unfortunately,” the voice replies. “And unless somebody wants Parker seeing the homepage mockups before I fix them, I need you and Eve in conference room B like… immediately.”
Becca sighs. “Can I at least finish my coffee first?”
“No, suffer.”
Eve leans closer to the speaker. “You’re literally a manager.”
“And yet somehow none of you respect me.”
“That sounds earned,” Eve says.
“Okay wow. Hostile work environment.” There’s a pause before Emilie continues casually, “Also whichever bitch just left comments calling my formatting ‘complicated’ is officially my enemy and I need them gone.”
Becca slowly turns her head toward the engineering side of the office. “…Keys,” she says carefully.
“The new guy?” Emilie says immediately. “Oh, absolutely not. He’s been here like twelve minutes.”
You glance across the room automatically. Keys is still sitting there typing like his life depends on it, completely unaware he’s currently being talked about over speakerphone.
Eve narrows her eyes. “I knew I didn’t trust him.”
“You called him cute like thirty seconds ago,” Becca reminds her.
“Cute people can still be deeply irritating.”
“Unfortunately true,” Emilie agrees through the speaker.
You laugh quietly before you can stop yourself.
“Wait,” Emilie says immediately. “Who was that?”
You freeze.
“The new intern,” Eve says.
“Oh my god,” Emilie replies instantly. “Hi. I’m so sorry you got placed with us. It’s genuinely chaos over here.”
“That’s becoming very clear.”
“Perfect. You’ll fit right in.” You can practically hear her grin through the phone. “Anyway, conference room. Now. Before I get fired for threatening engineers emotionally.”
Becca hangs up finally while shaking her head.
You stare at the phone for another second. “…I think I’m gonna like her.”
Eve grabs her coffee immediately. “Yeah. Everyone does.”
One: nobody at Soonami Studios explains anything fully the first time.
Two: every single system requires a different password and somehow all of them have different rules.
Three: Eve treats workplace drama like live entertainment.
Four: Becca has already saved your life twice and it’s only been a few hours.
And five: Keys is somehow everywhere.
Every time you look up, he’s somewhere nearby. Leaning against someone’s desk while talking about some code, walking through the office with coffee in his hand, typing so fast it sounds aggressive from three cubicles away. I mean fuck, it’s his first day too. He’s acting like he already owns the damn place.
The onboarding files Parker sent over are still open in front of you, except now they’re joined by three tabs you didn’t mean to click on and an error message you definitely don’t understand. You click through the window again, with the same error still popping up.
“…okay,” you mutter under your breath. “Cool.”
Your eyes flick briefly across the office before you can stop yourself. Keys is sitting at his desk a few rows down, glasses low on his nose while he stares at one of his monitors with an expression that somehow looks annoyed and focused at the same time. One hand’s moving absently against his keyboard while the other rests against his mouth.
You’d honestly probably rather die than ask for his help. So instead, you spend another five minutes trying to fix it yourself.
You let your head fall back against your chair for a second, staring at the ceiling before finally muttering, “Oh my god.”
“Problem?”
Your eyes snap open, Keys is standing beside your cubicle.
You straighten immediately. “No.”
He glances toward your screen, then back at you. “…right.”
“I have it handled.”
“You’ve clicked the same thing six times.”
Heat rises into your face instantly. “Why are you watching me?”
“You sigh really loud when you’re frustrated.”
You stare at him. “That’s weird information to have.”
Keys shrugs lightly. “You’re not subtle.”
You narrow your eyes immediately. “Did you come over here just to insult me?”
“No.” His attention shifts toward your monitor again. “Move.”
You blink. “Excuse me?”
“You broke the login loop somehow.”
“I did not break it.”
“You definitely broke it.”
“I literally clicked what it told me to click.”
“Yeah,” he says flatly. “That was your first mistake.”
You scoff softly but shift your chair back anyway, mostly because now you want to prove he’s wrong. Keys leans down slightly beside you, one hand resting against the edge of your desk while he uses the mouse with the other. Up close, he smells faintly like coffee and something clean you can’t place immediately.
“You skipped a verification step,” he says after a second.
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I literally followed the instructions.”
“Yeah, and Soonami’s instructions are terrible.”
You watch quietly while he fixes something buried under three different menus you never would’ve found yourself. You stare at the screen. “…oh.”
Keys leans back again. “There.”
You look up at him reluctantly. “Thanks.”
He nods once like it was obvious. “Try not to break anything else before three.”
You immediately point toward the exit of your cubicle. “Okay, you can leave now.”
The corner of his mouth twitches slightly. “See?” he says. “You are mean.”
“And you’re annoying.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
You fold your arms. “And yet you keep proving it.”
Someone across the office calls his name, and the moment breaks immediately. Keys glances away first. “Later, California.”
You stare after him as he walks off.
Asshole.
Still, the rest of the day goes better than you expected. Somewhere between lunch and your third cup of office coffee, things start clicking into place. The systems stop feeling completely foreign, the programs become easier to navigate, and eventually you stop hesitating before opening things because you’re scared of breaking them. You figure out the internal messaging app, finally organize your inbox, and by mid-afternoon you’re moving through your assignments without rereading every instruction three times first.
Turns out you’re actually good at this, which shouldn’t be surprising. You know you earned your spot here. You know Parker didn’t offer you housing out of pity. But there’s still something reassuring about seeing it happen in real time, watching the nerves slowly get replaced with muscle memory. One of the designers compliments one of your mockups before disappearing into a meeting. Another coworker stops by your cubicle to tell you your player flow notes were “actually really smart,” which embarrasses you a little more than you’d like to admit. Even Parker pauses at your desk once on his way somewhere else, glancing over your screen before nodding once.
The office around you grows quieter as people start packing up for the night. Conversations drift toward elevators and dinner plans while monitors shut off one by one across the floor. You stretch slightly in your chair before finally saving your work and closing your laptop with a soft click. You start gathering your things slowly, charger stuffed into your bag, notebook shoved underneath your laptop, phone finally pulled from where you tossed it beside your keyboard hours ago. Your shoulders ache a little from sitting all day, but it’s the satisfying kind. You slip your bag onto your shoulder and stand, glancing around the office one last time.
That’s when you notice Keys. He’s still at his desk a few rows away, one elbow resting against it while he types something with the other hand. Most of the lights around his section are already off, making the glow from his monitors sharper against his face. Glasses low on his nose again. Sleeves pushed up, completely focused. You look away before he can say anything else and head toward the elevators, adjusting your bag higher onto your shoulder as you walk. The office feels completely different now compared to this morning, less intimidating somehow. Most of the interns are already gone, and the people still left behind look settled into the kind of late-night focus that probably comes with working at a place like Soonami Studios.
The doors slide shut and you exhale quietly, letting your head lean back against the wall for half a second. Your first day is over. Somehow. You didn’t embarrass yourself - besides messing up and needing Keys’ help, didn’t get fired, didn’t cry in the bathroom, which honestly feels like a successful start. The apartment thing still feels insane, though. Living with someone you met less than twelve hours ago shouldn’t feel legal, especially not someone like Keys. He feels like trouble. The elevator dings softly as the lobby comes into view again. The second the doors open, the noise of the building shifts around you, phones ringing faintly from somewhere behind the desk, quiet conversations near the entrance, the low hum of traffic outside the glass doors.
The receptionist from earlier notices you almost immediately. “Hey,” she says with a small smile. “You’re here for the apartment keys, right?”
You nod. “Yeah. Parker said they’d be down here.”
She reaches underneath the desk for a small envelope. “Just keep going up this street, make a right on Cornelia and you’re there.” You take it from her carefully this time, immediately checking the front.
Address. Entry code. Parking information.
“Your roommate hasn’t come down yet,” she adds casually.
You try very hard not to react to the word roommate.
“Right,” you say instead.
The receptionist smiles knowingly anyway, which makes you instantly suspicious.
“It’s a nice place,” she says. “Parker did his big one.”
The lobby doors slide open behind you, letting in a rush of cool evening air and footsteps. You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.
“Kenzie,” Keys says behind you casually, “did you tell her I’m the favorite intern yet?”
Kenzie laughs immediately. “You wish.”
Keys walks up beside you a second later, dark backpack slung over one shoulder, sleeves still pushed up from earlier. Up close, he looks more tired now than he did this morning, though somehow still irritatingly put together in that effortless way you’re starting to resent. You hold the envelope a little closer to your chest before he can try taking it.
His eyes flick down to it instantly. “…you already grabbed them?”
“Yes,” you say slowly, already defensive.
“That’s usually how picking something up works.”
You narrow your eyes immediately. “You are physically incapable of having a normal conversation.”
“And you’re weirdly territorial over an envelope.”
“It has my future apartment in it.”
“Our future apartment.”
You immediately grimace. “Don’t say it like that.”
The corner of his mouth twitches slightly.
“Oh,” Kenzie says, glancing between both of you. “You two are gonna be entertaining.”
You and Keys speak at the exact same time.
“No we’re not.”
You look away first, already regretting staying downstairs this long. “Anyway,” you mutter, adjusting the envelope under your arm, “I’m gonna go before this gets worse.”
Keys leans one elbow against the front desk casually. “Pretty sure it already did.”
You point at him immediately. “See? That. That’s exactly what I mean.”
Kenzie is fully invested now, watching the two of you like she just turned on a reality show.
“You know,” she says thoughtfully, “most roommates at least pretend to like each other on the first day.”
“We’re not roommates,” you say automatically.
“We’re two people temporarily sharing a space,” Keys corrects.
You stare at him. “That was somehow worse.”
“Thank you.”
You exhale sharply through your nose before turning back toward Kenzie. “See? I can’t live like this.”
“You literally agreed to it.”
“Under financial distress.”
That gets another laugh out of her. Keys pushes himself away from the desk then, adjusting the strap of his backpack onto his shoulder. “Relax, California. I’m not planning on bothering you.”
“That’s reassuring coming from someone who already bothers me professionally.”
“You’ve known me for one day.”
“And it’s been exhausting.”
The corner of his mouth twitches again, it’s stupid how often he almost smiles.
For a second, the lobby settles into a quieter rhythm around you, people filtering out of the elevators, the front doors opening every few seconds with gusts of evening air drifting inside. Outside, the city’s already slipping into that blue-gray hour between afternoon and night, lights reflecting against the glass windows.
You glance down at the envelope in your hands again. You clear your throat slightly. “So… what’s the plan?”
Keys looks over. “Plan?”
“For the apartment.”
“Oh.” He shrugs lightly. “I was just gonna head over later.”
You blink. “Later?”
“I need to stop somewhere first.”
Honestly, relief hits you a little faster than it should. “Oh!”
His eyes narrow slightly, like he noticed that reaction immediately. “Why? Were you scared to be alone with me?”
You scoff instantly. “Please. I was scared you’d talk the whole walk there.”
“That’s crazy coming from you.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’ve spent ninety percent of today insulting me.”
“And every single one was deserved.”
Keys shakes his head slightly, looking almost amused now. “You’re a lot meaner than you looked this morning.”
“You looked annoying this morning.”
“I wasn’t even talking.”
“Exactly.”
Kenzie actually snorts behind the desk this time. You point toward her without looking away from Keys. “See? She gets it.”
“She’s enjoying this way too much.”
“She’s not the only one,” Kenzie says immediately.
“No she’s not,” you mumble under your breath before realizing you said it out loud.
Keys’ eyebrows lift slightly, heat flashes into your face instantly. You recover way too fast to let him enjoy it. “I meant enjoying watching you embarrass yourself.”
“Mhm.”
“Oh my god.”
Keys reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone before glancing back at you one last time. “Anyway. Since apparently my existence causes you emotional distress, I’ll let you walk there alone.”
“Thank you.”
“But if you get lost, I’m not coming to rescue you.”
You clutch the envelope dramatically against your chest. “I think I’ll survive.”
“Debatable.”
You narrow your eyes immediately. “See ya, Keys.”
He starts backing toward the doors. “Bye, California.”
“Stop calling me that.”
The doors slide open behind him before you can say anything else. You stare at the closed lobby doors for another second before letting out a quiet breath through your nose. “He’s unbelievable.”
Kenzie smiles knowingly from behind the desk. “You say that now.”
You immediately point at her. “Don’t start.”
She laughs softly, lifting her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”
You shake your head, trying not to smile despite yourself as you adjust the strap of your bag higher onto your shoulder again. “Have a good night.”
The evening air hits cooler once you step outside, carrying the noise of the city with it. Traffic humming past the curb, distant music spilling from somewhere down the block, people talking over each other as they pass. For a second, you just stand there. Then you reach into your bag, untangling your wired headphones from the absolute knot they somehow became over the course of the day. After a minute of fighting with them, you finally shove them into your ears and hit play without really looking.
Your Indie Pop mix fills your ears immediately. The city feels different now than it did this morning. Earlier, everything felt huge and intimidating and temporary. Now, even with your feet aching slightly and your brain still overloaded from the day, it feels a little more real. You pass glowing storefronts and crowded sidewalks, people laughing outside restaurants, cars lined up at intersections while neon signs flicker against windows. Somewhere nearby, someone’s walking a dog that looks more dressed up than you are. Someone else is yelling into their phone dramatically enough that half the block can probably hear it.
Your fingers tighten slightly around the envelope tucked under your arm as you keep walking. Apartment. Roommate. Job. Everything changed in a single day, and it still doesn’t totally feel real yet. Still, before you can even think about settling into the apartment, you have one more thing to deal with. The motel. Cheap, slightly questionable, and somehow always smelling vaguely like old cigarettes no matter how many air fresheners the front office tried to use. You’d booked it in a panic after realizing how impossible housing was going to be near the office, telling yourself it would only be for a few nights until you figured something else out. Technically, you did. Even if “something else” ended up being Keys McKey.
Four hours later, you’re exhausted. Not emotionally exhausted, though there’s definitely some of that too, but physically exhausted in the way that only comes from carrying your entire life up multiple flights of stairs because the motel elevator stopped working halfway through the second trip. Turns out you owned more stuff than you thought. Or maybe everything just feels heavier after a ten-hour day.
The apartment is quiet when you step inside.
Plain, mostly. Just, very corporate. Beige couch, a brick accent wall which added a pop to it, generic framed art that probably came with the unit. The kitchen’s small but clean, tucked right beside the living room with barely enough counter space for two people to function without bumping into each other.
You drop your bag near the couch with a tired exhale before taking the place in properly for the first time. The living room opens up enough that it doesn’t feel cramped, and both bedrooms sit on opposite sides of the apartment with the bathroom shoved awkwardly between them. Equal-sized rooms too, which somehow feels important. No obvious “better” room. No reason to fight about it. Your boxes sit stacked near the wall where you left them after your last trip from the motel. Clothes shoved into duffel bags, makeup case barely zipped shut, random chargers tangled together in ways that make no sense. Half your wardrobe is currently hanging out of a laundry basket because at some point you gave up trying to pack things properly. You stare at the mess for a second, then laugh quietly to yourself.
You walk slowly toward the rooms, nudging the door open wider with your foot. Same plain furniture setup as the rest of the place, a bed already made with stiff white sheets, basic dresser, small desk shoved near the window. No decorations. No personality. Nothing that says someone actually lives here. You set your tote bag down on the mattress and glance around again, trying to picture yourself here. Morning routines. Work nights. Hearing someone else moving around the kitchen while you get ready for work. Sharing a space with someone who already knows exactly how to annoy you after one day.
You flop backward onto the bed dramatically, staring at the ceiling for a second. The apartment’s still completely quiet.
Which means Keys isn’t here yet. Honestly? Relief.
You need at least ten more minutes before dealing with him again. Maybe twenty. Maybe the rest of your life. You close your eyes briefly, letting the silence settle around you while the city hums faintly outside the windows. You slowly sit back up with a quiet sigh, rubbing your hands over your face before glancing around the room again. One duffel bag half unzipped near the dresser. Tote bag on the floor. Shoes kicked somewhere near the doorway. The lamp that nearly killed you carrying it upstairs leaning awkwardly against the wall.
You reach for your phone beside you, opening your music again before letting music start playing softly through the tiny speaker this time. The sound fills the room just enough to make it feel less empty while you stand and start unpacking little things first.
Toiletries into the bathroom, setting up your desktop onto the desk, jewelry tray beside the bed, smallish things.
You grab one of your hoodies off the bed and pull it over your head before climbing back onto the mattress, legs crossing underneath you. Tomorrow’s another workday. Another full day of pretending Keys McKey doesn’t get under your skin, even though you just met the guy.
You stare across the room again. His room sits dark across the hallway, door cracked open just enough for you to see the plain furniture inside. No boxes. No clothes. No signs that someone else is about to live here too. For now, the apartment still feels like yours. You let your head fall lightly against the wall behind the bed, listening to the music drift softly through the room while the city glows outside your window. Somewhere downstairs, a car alarm briefly goes off before someone starts cussing. A siren echoes faintly in the distance after that.
an: i hope you loved the first chapter bc god i’m so obsessed with them already. adding my oomfs to this is so fucking fun too god i’m having way too much fun writing this already. if you have any reqs on what you wanna see happen, shoot them my way. i’ll try my best to incorporate anything. also send me your thoughts and reactions i loveeee reading them hehe.
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reblogs and reposts are appreciated as always, thank you.
