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lex ⋆˚࿔ 19. mdni. joe keery’s muse! writer. music in my veins. film girl. pinterest girl. hopelessly nostalgic. lover girl. life romanticizer. 80s coded. scoops troop. soft chaos.
# - masterlist ⋆˚࿔
one shots
don’t pretend - steve harrington x reader
series - in progress
temporary fix - steve harrington x reader
conflict resolution - keys mckey x reader
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one of the girls
pairing - king steve harrington x female!reader
summary: shyfemale!reader has long time crush on steve harrington when she goes to a party at the quarry and finally gets his attention.
contains & warnings: (18+ smut! minors dni) porn with a plot, fingering, p in v, unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talk, pet names, female reader, slight CNC at very start, kinda mean!steve, king steve persona, fighting, alcohol. shy!reader, car sex, praise, no aftercare, dom!steve
it was always the same at the quarry on a friday night. loud music… drunk jocks… couples making out on cars.. kegs knocked over and beer oozing out to soak into the earth, and steve harrington.
to be more specific, king steve, holding court with half the senior class. steve harrington was just like any other guy at hawkins high school, except he was the king.
he always got what he wanted- perfect grades, perfect girls, perfect cars and perfect clothes- it was unspoken but the hierarchy was clear.
you’d spoken to steve a few times but nothing memorable, but what was undeniable is everytime he spared you a second of his time.. you felt your cheeks warm and flush, and your head would get all fuzzy for hours. replaying and hanging onto every word while giggling to yourself in your bedroom about steve harrington saying “excuse me” to you in the hallway and putting his hand on your lower back almost imperceptibly to move past you.
you knew it didn’t mean anything, i mean.. he was literally saying “excuse me” and he was touchy with every girl in school, it was apart of his charm, but deep down inside, you couldn’t help but hope that he was thinking about you too.
once you finally mustered up the strength to get out of your car and not retreat back to the safety of your home and bedroom, you beelined it for the coolers perched on the ground against a cluster of rocks that were full of cheap beer from the corner market down the road. you never even drank the beer, usually you just held a can to seem occupied so people wouldn’t bother you about why you weren’t drinking.
as you straightened up from grabbing the can, you could feel a presence behind you. the familiar cologne scent of mint and cedar, and of course the smell of ozone from hairspray that overwhelmed all of your senses in the best way.
you began to turn away and mutter “excuse me, sorry” shyly, looking down at the ground as if it was a crime to make eye contact with those big brown eyes and long dark lashes that filled his face.
steves low and rough voice stopped you after you had taken only a few steps away “hey wait up, are you gonna drink that? cause it’s kind of the last schlitz in the cooler.”
you froze, immediately feeling the heat rising to your cheeks simply from knowing that you’d have to interact with him, you turned around slowly and spoke so quietly that you weren’t even sure he could hear it over centerfold by the j. gelis band playing loudly from a speaker just a few feet away “uh.. no sorry you- you can definitely have it. sorry i just..” you cut yourself off before you could ramble anymore, knowing you were likely embarrassing yourself as is.
steves lips quirked into something resembling a grin realizing how flustered he had you after just a simple question about a can of beer. he didn’t even step forward or say another word, he just stuck his hand out as if he expected you to place the can in his hand without another thought. the worst part is, you immediately did. you practically stumbled forward in your haste to hand him the beer, and when you did, your fingers ever so lightly brushed against the pads of his calloused fingers before you slowly pulled back. he stepped slightly closer, looking down at you whilst running a hand lightly through his hair.
his hair. it was such a beautiful chestnut color. he always wore it swept back in long feathered layers. it was the kind of hair that was styled for hands to run through it.
he then murmured so low it felt like his words were caressing your skin “thanks, princess” and walked back to his friends as if he didn’t just send your brain into a spiral that you were likely to hyper fixate over for weeks. you walked back to your car in a daze, leaning against your hood, watching the night go by, and of course, replaying every millisecond of the interaction with steve. smiling softly and shyly to yourself.
princess. steve harrington had called you princess, but.. then he walked away. back towards his royal court, where surely he had more princesses lined up to charm.
it was nearing one in the morning at the quarry, so the party started slowing down and clearing out. kegs were getting lower, the cooler was running out of beer, the remaining stragglers were passed out against tree trunks or throwing up near the lake.
it was always around this time that you would usually head home, but tonight felt different. maybe it was the full moon above you, or the slight warmth in the breeze that signaled that spring was near, or maybe it was just the fact that steve harrington spoke to you.
regardless, something felt different.
you tried not to watch him all night while he was laughing with his friends or doing keg stands, but you just couldn’t help it. you felt invasive as his shirt would ride up during a keg stand and your eyes would linger on the dusting of dark hair against his chest.. down his sternum, trailing lower and disappearing into the waistband of his tight levi jeans, but you couldn’t help it. you couldn’t help it even more when your brain filled with the idea of your hands lightly trailing and mapping that hair.
you sighed and pushed the thought away, realizing that tonight probably wasn’t different after all, and hopped off the hood of your sedan to head home.
the sound of rising voices from the direction of the lake stopped you. you turned towards the sound to see steve and tommy h yelling at eachother and causing a scene over a beer being dropped.
the kind of thing that only matters to high school boys with no real problems.
you watched silently as your soft doe eyes widened in alarm with every snarky remark they shared, until tommy had enough of steves arrogance, and punched him in the face.
it was the kind of punch that you could hear, maybe just knuckles hitting skin or maybe a bone getting knocked out of place. either way, it sounded bad, and you were at a complete crossroads on what do to. carol quickly ushered tommy towards her car with a firm grip on his elbow, whispering harshly into his ear as she got him situated before driving off into the now eerily quiet night.
that left just you and steve at the quarry, besides for the people sick or asleep.
steve was leaning against a tree, rubbing his cheek as if he was trying to rub the pain away. you knew you should just turn around and go home. he’d be fine, he didn’t need you to take care of him, he didn’t need anyone to take care of him. yet that didn’t stop you from carefully walking towards him calling out hesitantly, nervously “steve..? are.. are you alright?” he didn’t respond. “steve?” you asked again as you stepped closer.
he turned his head slightly over his shoulder, not enough for you to fully see his face, but you knew he was listening. “i.. i saw what happened. i just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
he turned his body fully towards you. you could already see the red mark bruising on his jawline. “ ‘m fine. go home, it’s late.” steve muttered, there was a hint of something dangerous in his tone, like he was a predator that was being cornered.
you kept advancing cautiously, despite his wishes for you to leave. your eyes widened as your gaze raked over his new mark. “oh god, are you.. bleeding? let me.. i.. i can help.” you asked softly but no less concerned.
his big brown eyes eyes flicked up as he registered the concern in your voice. his eyes were so dark in the night they looked almost black, swallowed by the moonlight and something darker, something internal.
steve stepped forward, slowly and calmly, his body movements betraying the dark look in his eyes. “yeah? you think i need your help? hm?” his voice was low.
“well no i just… nevermind” shoulders slightly slumping under his intense gaze as your eyes lowered back to the ground.
steve nodded slowly, as if assessing the answer, then he stepped closer, stopping just inches away from you. his hand slowly extended out towards your chin until his thumb began to lightly brush against your jawline. tilting your head back so you could meet his gaze.
he murmured softly, but his words betrayed the tenderness “are you always so fucking nosy?”
embarrassment began to burn your cheeks as you sputtered nonsense, yet you couldn’t step away. completely under his spell, and you didn’t know how to break free, or you just didn’t want to.
he dipped his head lower until his lips barely brushed your earlobe as he whispered “now be a good girl and do what i said, before i do something i won’t regret.”
eyes began to glaze over at the praise. he was being cruel and harsh, yet you couldn’t move away from him. completely enthralled, even as your brain screamed at you to slap him in the face at his audacity and walk away. but you didn’t. instead, your lips parted ever so slightly. his thumb then moved from stroking your jawline to press against your lower lip, dragging the pad of his thumb across.
the sensation was thrilling and sent a jolt of warmth straight to your stomach, but it also snapped you back into reality as you took a small step back. “steve, what.. what are you doing? don’t do that.” but your lips stayed parted, and voice stayed soft.
his eyes flashed with a strange sort of satisfaction. it was gone before you could even fully begin to process it. “don’t do that? but i thought you wanted to help me. or were you lying?”
your eyes widened in alarm “no! no, of course not! i.. yes.. how can i.. what do you want me to do? to.. help.”
he closed the distance you created then murmured so low it was almost lost to the starry night. “you could give me a ride home, princess.”
princess. you could feel the fluttery and light sensation again as you tried to fight back a shy smile and said softly “right, yeah. yeah of course. come on.”
you slid into the drivers seat just as he began to open the door to the backseat, you looked back in confusion. “uh.. steve? you can sit passenger, i don’t mind.”
he smirked and continued to slide into the backseat, spreading out as if it was his throne. “i know i can, but i wanna sit back here. come back here for a minute. let’s just.. talk awhile. hangout while i sober up. can’t go home drunk, y’know?”
the logic seemed right, of course he couldn’t head home super drunk. he would need to sober up, so you did as he asked, like a good girl.
you began to fidget nervously with your hands as you sat so close to steve harrington in the backseat of your car. “so.. what’d you wanna talk about then?”
he just shrugged, the motion casual and relaxed. a man completely in his element. he began to gently play with the strands of your hair that were resting on your shoulder.
“steve?”
he hummed in response.
his fingers going further up your shoulder, heading towards your neck. you could feel your throat tightening with every moment, eyelids fluttering as his fingers would drift over a sensitive spot of skin.
he murmured “are you nervous? you look nervous.”
you let out a nervous laugh that was almost a breath. “what? no.. why would i be nervous? im not nervous at all.” it sounded unconvincing, even to you.
his lips curved back into that infuriatingly charming smirk as he began to trail his fingers over the curve of your neck. his other hand slowly moving to rest on your upper thigh. “nervous now, princess?”
all you could do was swallow. palms sweating and your heart was beating so fast that you were sure he could hear it. his hand moved higher, thumb stroking your inner thigh as you breathed out “steve.. wait..”
he either didn’t hear you, or he just didn’t care. you were hopeful that it wasn’t the latter.
his hand continued to move higher, towards the waistband of your jeans as his other hand continued stroking your neck until his soft strokes became a grab, and he pulled you closer by the neck until his mouth came crashing down onto your parted lips.
you’d been kissed before by boys, but this was nothing like that. this was hungry, demanding, and claiming. it was all teeth and tongue, and he tasted like beer, mint and sin.
the kiss broke after a long thirty seconds when you pulled back due to his hand beginning to unbutton your jeans. breathless and dazed. “wa.. wait a second, steve, just.. can’t we just..”
he cut you off as he began claiming your mouth again. the sounds of his kisses and low groans as his hand tightened on your neck filled the car.
the second he got your jeans unbuttoned he practically ripped them down your legs. his motions no longer soft and slow. your hips lifted off the seat almost instinctively to help get them off before you realized what you were doing and attempted to pull them back up.
steves hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, “i took them off because i want them off. if i wanted them on, i would’ve left them.” he said it calmly, but you could sense the warning in his tone. this was a man who always got what he wanted, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to hook up with him. you just never pictured it happening in your car at two am at the quarry.
it was your body that betrayed you, really. hips lifting up to help him, lips parting for his, and the undeniable warmth setting low in your stomach that went straight to your core. surely you were soaked by now.
you felt his fingers curl around the white cotton of your panties and before you could even register what he was going to do, he ripped them off, the fabric tearing and stretching.
he let out a low groan as his dark eyes raked over you “fuck. spread em for me just a bit, you know ill do it for you if you don’t.” when you didn’t move immediately, his large calloused and veiny hands wrapped around each of your thighs and pulled your legs further apart for his pleasure.
your breath hitched audibly as he did, at war with your mind and your body. you knew this was a terrible idea, and you knew you’d regret it by morning, and by monday he wouldn’t even remember your name in the hallway. but still, your eyes rolled back in undeniable pleasure as a single finger began to slide into your slick damp heat and slowly explored you as you clenched around him.
“god you’re tight.. just relax for me, mkay? be a good girl. you’re taking it so well.” he groaned out as he began to slide another finger inside of you, stretching you and making you gasp against his mouth.
“steve.. it’s.. it’s too much.. i..” you cut yourself off as a moan escaped your lips when his thumb found your clit and began rubbing slow agonizing circles against you. “oh.. oh god..” you whined.
“just like that.. fuck, you’re so hot like this.” his voice was thick with arousal.
you could feel your stomach tightening with pleasure as his filthy words and touch captivated your body. you could feel the way you’d clench around his fingers as he’d pump them in and out of you faster and faster. “steve.. i.. im..” you breathed out frantically as the pleasure became overwhelming and you began to come apart under his touch.
his face transformed into a smug smile as he watched you orgasm beside him “such a good girl.” he praised.
your body sagged forward until your forehead was pressed against his. once the last of the aftershocks passed, he began to remove his fingers and guided his hand to his mouth. you watched completely captivated as he sucked his fingers clean, tasting you and humming appreciatively as he did. his eyes were locked on yours, and the sight alone made your stomach flutter. his other hand began to undo his belt, your eyes snapped to the sound of the metal clinking.
“wa.. wait, steve, what are you doing? i.. i thought” cutting yourself off quietly, still trying to catch your breath from the force of your orgasm.
“im going to fuck you, princess. now lay down” he said it in a way that seemed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. it wasn’t as much of a question as it was a demand.
you watched as he unzipped his jeans and sat up in the backseat to push them down his thighs. your eyes immediately locked onto the print of his erection in his black boxer briefs. even through the fabric it looked intimidating. you could tell he was big, and you knew that he knew it was big by the way he sat so confidently. your jaw went agape as he pushed the boxers down and freed his cock. it was long, and thick, with a vein running down the side of it. the head was already red and had a bead of precum at the tip, his arousal was evident.
“lay. down.” he demanded again, with a slight impatience in his tone as you sat frozen staring at his exposed cock.
you slowly laid yourself down in the backseat. he positioned himself in between your thighs and placed his hands tightly on your hips to adjust you for his liking. his grip was firm, and rough. you knew you were likely to see bruises in the shape of his fingers the next day, but you found yourself to be thrilled at the idea. at least that way, you knew it was real.
the head of his cock began to rub teasingly against your swollen and sensitive clit, your body jolting and arching with each touch needily. you whimpered softly once at the sensation, and that’s all it took for steve to lose control.
his cock roughly thrusted into you until he was buried deep. you felt the air leave your lungs, letting out a sharp gasp that quickly became a scream until you smacked your hand against your mouth to stifle it. whimpering into your palm as he stretched you.
he left out a low moan “fu- fuck you’re so tight, soaking for me. relax, baby..” as he began thrusting, deep and rough. you could feel him everywhere, you felt so fucking full.
he pulled his shirt over his head and your eyes filled with lust at the sight of him bare in your backseat. his body was perfect. it wasn’t overly muscular, he was lean but with subtle definition. you thought of earlier with the keg stand, and immediately moved your hands from your mouth to explore the hair on his chest and down to his tummy where the dark trail of hair lead to his cock. the feeling of it being so real made you moan, which spurred him on.
“you like that, don’t you? fuck, you feel how deep i am?” he moaned loudly, his skin slapping into yours. “mmm need to feel you cum all over my cock, baby”
your arched your hips up at his filthy words, the angle making him get even deeper as you both moaned at the new feeling. “steve.. i.. it’s so much.. it..” you gasped out in between moans
“shhhh, baby. shhh. it’s.. supposed to be.. a lot” he grunted out as his thrusts continued relentlessly. your body jolting with each thrust. his hand slid up and fisted in your hair, holding on and tilting your head to meet his eyes. “look at me.. lemme see those pretty eyes while i fuck you”
your eyes snapped to his obediently.
“so fucking beautiful. all flushed and ruined underneath me. all mine.” he murmured as your eyes were locked on each-others. his pace never faltering. the sounds of his skin slapping against yours mingled with the sounds of your breath.
his hand slid from your hip down so his thumb could begin circling your cunt again, your body jolting under the sudden dual sensation, gasping out “steve! oh god.. that.. that feels so good”
his mouth immediately came down on yours, kissing you hard and desperately. only pulling back to bite gently on your lower lip. the kisses became sloppy, and wet. you could feel the saliva on either your chin or his, mixing together. your hands moved from his chest and tummy up to tangle in his perfect hair. moaning in his mouth as his finger circled your swollen clit and his cock fucked you so deep your vision began to blur out.
you fell apart again as you made out, and he groaned against your lips as the aftershocks wracked your body for the second time. “such a good girl, coming apart all over my cock.”
your body shuddered at his praise and his movements became faster as he chased his release. “you.. you feel too good.. im.. im gonna come, baby” your walls clenched around his cock as he stilled then let out a loud low groan, his grip on your hair slackening. his forehead dropped to press against your shoulder.
the immediate aftermath was quiet, the calm after a strange sort of storm. he slowly pushed himself off of you and pulled his pants and boxers up without a word. you quietly said “that.. that was”
“yeah, yeah definitely.” he let out a quiet laugh, self satisfied. “hell of a way to get helped after a fight.” he laughed again.
“wha.. what?” your tone was light, but completely confused.
“uhh you know.. the fight? you said you’d help me. well, thanks for the help” he gestured to the seats dismissively as if encompassing the entire scene.
“right. the.. help. how could i forget” you tried to keep a light dismissive tone. but you could feel the pang in your chest. it felt as real as the bruises beginning to bloom on your hips.
he adjusted his jeans, redid his belt, and began to open the car door. “right well, see you around?”
you blinked a few times, taken aback. “don’t.. you need a ride home?”
he laughed again, this time a bit more arrogant. as if he had just completed a master plan. “my bmw is right over there.” he pointed. “see?”
you followed his finger and saw his famous burgundy 1983 bmw 733i. right. of course his car was here. of course he didn’t need a ride. you nodded and smiled tightly “right. goodnight then, steve”
he smirked, that infuriatingly charming smirk, and got out the car, shutting the door and walking to his bmw without a glance back. back to his throne, where he would have a new princess tomorrow night to trick or charm.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
i hope you enjoyed! king steve come back to me. thank u for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. ♡
conflict resolution - walter ‘keys’ mckey
⏻ 2. california vs. mckey - 8.5k
"I like talking."
"You should stop."
pairing: keys mckey x fem!reader
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: strong language, marijuana use, enemies to roommates, workplace rivals, forced proximity, keys being jealous of reader, accidental concern, chaos, shirtless Keys
an: tysm for all of the love on the first chapter!! i hope you love this one mwah
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The room is still mostly dark, pale morning light barely pushing through the blinds across from the bed. For a second you just lie there staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself you’re not actually awake yet. Your body still aches from hauling half your life out of that motel yesterday, and the stiff mattress definitely isn’t helping. Somewhere outside the apartment, a car horn blares. You groan quietly into your pillow, the chaotic city awake before you. Something you’re definitely going to have to get used to. You force yourself upright after another minute, hoodie twisted messily awkwardly around you from sleeping in it. Your sleepy eyes scan the clothes that are half unpacked, chargers that are tangled across the desk, one shoe somehow sitting near the bathroom door for reasons you can’t explain. You were never the messy type, sure sometimes things would get disorganized but nothing was ever this chaotic for you, so this was driving you a bit insane.
You grab your phone off the nightstand to check the time.
7:12 AM.
If you go back to sleep now, you already know you’ll wake up late and humiliate yourself on your second day. So instead, you drag yourself out of bed and shuffle toward the kitchen half awake, rubbing one eye while the apartment is still quiet. At first, it almost feels like you live alone, and god you wish you did. You walk into the kitchen and remember exactly why you don’t. No groceries, no coffee, no food.
You stare into the empty fridge anyway, hoping food will magically appear.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter.
“Yeah. I checked already.”
His voice makes you physically jump. Keys is leaning against the hallway entrance like he’s been standing there long enough to witness your disappointment in real time. Which you’re sure he was happy by. Glasses on, hair messier than yesterday somehow, black sweats hanging low on his hips and a dark t-shirt that looks wrinkled enough to suggest he slept in it.
“You scared the shit out of me,” you say, pressing a hand briefly against your chest dramatically before shutting the fridge harder than necessary.
“Food isn’t gonna magically appear y’know,” he says dryly as he walks past you toward the cabinets.
“I had hope,” you defend.
“That was your first mistake,” he says.
You narrow your eyes at him immediately. “Do you ever stop talking like that?”
Keys glances over his shoulder slightly. “Like what?”
“Like a condescending asshole,” you answer as you lean against the counter.
Instead of replying, he opens a cabinet.“Okay,” he says after a second, shutting it. “This is actually worse than I thought.”
You cross your arms over your chest. “You didn’t buy groceries, Mr.I-had-somewhere-to-be-after-work?”
He turns toward you slowly, eyebrows lifting behind his glasses like he genuinely can’t believe you just asked that. “Why the fuck would I buy groceries?” he asks. “I got here at like eleven,” he says, grabbing the bottle of water from the counter.
“And?”
“And I went to sleep,” he replies before taking a sip.
You roll your eyes. “Whatever. I’m showering before I pass out from malnutrition.”
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You stand there half asleep letting the water hit your shoulders. The muffled sound of cabinet doors opening in the kitchen, grunting coming from Keys’ bratty mouth, footsteps moving across the hardwood floors, Keys dropping something followed immediately by a quiet “shit” from somewhere outside the bathroom door. The water’s barely warm, but it’s enough to wake you up slowly while steam fogs the mirror and curls around the ceiling. You probably should’ve showered after your shift last night, but you just needed a good night sleep.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
You physically jump. “What the fuck?” you yell over the water immediately, whipping the glass door with your hand to see if you can see anything, even though the door is locked.
“Hurry up!” Keys shouts through the door.
You stare toward the bathroom entrance in disbelief. “Oh my god, relax!”
“You’ve been in there forever.”
“It’s literally been ten minutes!”
“It’s been twenty-five!”
The banging on the door continues.
You shut your eyes tightly. “Keys, I swear to god—”
“I still have to get ready too!”
“You’re a man!” you yell back. You roll your eyes hard enough it physically hurts before rinsing conditioner out of your hair and the body wash off of your body faster. You try ignoring him after that, it lasts maybe thirty seconds.
More knocks continue.
“Keys!”
“What?!”
“STOP DOING THAT.”
“You’re taking forever.”
“You’re being insane.”
“This is our first morning living together and you’re already holding the bathroom hostage!”
You blink. “You make it sound like we’re fucking married!”
“I’d rather die.”
“Can you?” you joke under your breath.
Another knock hits the door, then another, then somehow louder ones, leading you to snap. You shut the water off aggressively before wrapping a towel around yourself as fast as possible and storming toward the bathroom door dripping wet and furious.
You yank it open just enough for your head and shoulder to show through the gap. “What is WRONG with you?” you hiss.
Keys is standing there mid-knock with his fist still half raised, and then he freezes. His eyes flick up automatically before darting away almost just as fast, which honestly surprises you considering he’s spent the last few minutes trying to break the bathroom door down.
“You were banging on the door like the building was on fire,” you continue, glaring at him. “Are you incapable of acting normal for even one second?”
Keys clears his throat awkwardly before finally lowering his hand. “I need to piss and get ready.”
“You need to check yourself in.”
Keys rubs the back of his neck briefly, still not really looking directly at you anymore. “You done yelling at me?” he asks finally.
“No.”
“Cool.”
You narrow your eyes immediately. “You’re actually the most irritating person I’ve ever met.”
Keys stares at you for a second longer like he’s debating whether arguing with you is worth the energy this early in the morning. His hair’s still messy from sleep, glasses slightly crooked on his face, one hand braced against the hallway wall while the other rubs tiredly over his jaw.
Then he exhales sharply through his nose.“Can I use the bathroom now?” he asks flatly.
You blink at him once before answering just as flatly. “No.”
You grin sweetly and shut the door the rest of the way in his face.
The second it closes, another knock rattles the wood, and maybe even the whole city of Boston.
“Seriously?”
“You’re annoying,” he calls through the door.
“And you’re obsessed with me!”
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Twenty minutes later, the bathroom counter looks like a small explosion and Keys’ worst nightmare. Makeup bags half unzipped, hair products scattered everywhere, one hoop earring missing in action already. Steam still clings faintly to the mirror while music plays softly from your phone beside the sink. You finish your makeup a few minutes later — soft liner, glowy skin, lip gloss. Cute enough to feel put together without looking like you tried too hard, even though you absolutely did.
You grab your outfit off the edge of the sink and change quickly, tugging the dark jeans up your legs before buttoning the white blouse. After comes the jewelry — rings, layered necklaces, earrings after finally finding the missing hoop sitting somehow how on the interesting colored bathroom rug.
When you finally step out into the hallway, Keys is already dressed. He glances up automatically when he hears you, then pauses for like half a second too long.
“So,” you say slowly, grabbing your bag off the couch, “did the bathroom survive your incredibly urgent crisis?”
Keys blinks once before looking away again toward his phone. “Barely, you’re lucky I took a shower last night.”
“You know,” you continue casually, “for someone who was acting like he was moments away from death, you sure took your time getting ready.”
“I get ready fast,” he says simply.
“Yeah. I can tell.”
“You look expensive again.”
You stare at him immediately. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, grabbing his backpack off the counter. “You just do.”
“That is genuinely one of the weirdest things anyone’s ever said to me.”
“And yet you understood exactly what I meant.”
You open your mouth, then close it again because annoyingly enough. He was somewhat right, but you weren’t gonna give him that satisfaction. Because the minute Keys Mckey won any argument, you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Keys notices your silence immediately, and the corner of his mouth twitches slightly like he just won something, but he fucking didn’t.
You point at him instantly. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That weird little smug nerdy bitch face.”
“I don’t have a weird little smug nerdy bitch face.”
“You absolutely have a weird little smug nerdy bitch face.”
He grabs his keys off the counter. “You’re very judgmental before eight in the morning.”
“And you’re still talking.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
The apartment gets quiet for another second while both of you gather your stuff near the front door. The weird domestic normalcy of it makes something in your chest feel oddly off balance, like this shouldn’t already feel routine. Keys opens the door first, stepping aside just enough for you to walk through.
You pause briefly. “…thank you,” you say suspiciously.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“And there he is.”
You roll your eyes as you walk past him into the hallway, already hearing the apartment door lock behind you. The elevator ride downstairs is quiet for exactly twelve seconds before Keys opens his smart ass mouth.
“You know,” Keys says casually beside you as you both walk down the hallway, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweater, “I think it’s interesting you called me insane this morning when you’re the one who almost started a hostage negotiation over the bathroom.”
You stare at him immediately. “You were banging on the door like a cop.”
“You were in there forever.”
“I was showering.”
“I don’t wanna know what you were doing in there.”
You scoff loudly as the elevator dings open.“Oh my god,” you mutter while stepping inside. “I was taking a damn shower, bro- just shut up I don’t wanna hear another word come out of your mouth.”
“And yet,” he says easily beside you, “you keep talking to me.”
“That’s because unfortunately we live together now.”
“Temporary tragedy.”
You snort before you can stop yourself. The second the sound leaves you, Keys glances over.
You point toward him dramatically. “Don’t get comfortable. That wasn’t for you.”
“Sure, California.”
“I hate that nickname.”
“I know.”
The streets outside are busier this morning than yesterday. People flooding sidewalks with coffees in hand, crosswalk signals beeping endlessly while traffic fills the intersections. Soonami Studios sits only a few blocks away, the giant glass building catching pale morning light across the windows. Somehow, despite the fact that you met less than twenty-four hours ago, you and Keys already fall into step beside each other naturally.
“You walk really fast,” Keys says after a minute.
“You walk really slow.”
“No, I walk normal. You move like someone’s chasing you.”
You scan the people around you as you and Keys walk. People on their phones, some sitting down at bus stops, some to the side outside of the storefront having conversations. “Oh my god Keys stop chasing me-.”
Keys’ eyes widen instantly from the stunt you just pulled. He speeds up to you, shushing you as if you were going to get him in trouble. “Are you out of your mind?”
You roll your eyes dramatically, you can’t help but let out a small laugh. “You said I moved like someone was chasing me, made it a reality I guess.”
Keys shakes his head in disbelief, his jaw beginning to clench. By the time you both walk into the office building lobby, the studio’s already chaotic and alive with movement. Developers drifting between departments, monitors glowing through glass meeting rooms, coworkers carrying coffees like life support systems.
Kenzie the receptionist downstairs spots both of you immediately. “Oh,” she says slowly, visibly amused already. “You two survived the first night.”
You and Keys answer at the exact same time.
“Barely.”
“We’re filing complaints.”
“You know,” she says, still smiling, “married couples usually fight less.”
Both of you turn immediately. “We are NOT married.”
Keys stupidly adds, “Thank fucking god.”
Kenzie is trying so hard not to laugh now that she physically turns away pretending to organize papers.
The elevator door ding echos throughout the first floor, moments before the double doors slide opposing ways, opening.
You point at Keys while stepping inside. “You’re the worst person I’ve met in this city.”
Keys steps in after you calmly. “Statistically impossible.”
“Emotionally accurate.”
“See?” he says as the doors slide shut. “That one was actually funny.”
You cross your arms immediately. “Don’t compliment me. It feels manipulative.”
“I wasn’t complimenting you.”
“You literally did.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊
By the time you both reach your section of the office, a few people are already there typing away quietly while monitors glow across the room. Parker’s standing near one of the desks talking to another developer when he notices both of you walking in together.
His eyes flick between you once, then he sneaks in a quick smile. You never want to see him do that ever again.
“Well,” Parker says as he walks over, coffee in hand. “You two made it to day two.”
“Barely,” you answer immediately.
“At this point,” Keys adds, dropping into his chair, “I think surviving the apartment should qualify as overtime.”
Parker laughs. “You’ll adjust,” he says easily before setting a folder down onto your desk. “Both of you are helping with interface cleanup today. Same project.”
You and Keys look at each other immediately.
“There’s overlap between backend and visual flow,” he explains. “You’re both good at different things. Figure it out.”
Then he walks away before either of you can argue.
You slowly look toward Keys, he slowly looks towards you. “This feels targeted,” you mutter.
“Extremely,” he agrees.
You sit down heavily in your chair before opening the folder, filled with what you’d expect. Mockups, user flow issues, interface bugs. Honestly? Not horrible.
“Oh absolutely not,” you say immediately.
Keys looks over from beside you. “What?”
You turn the paper toward him. “Who approved this color palette?”
He squints slightly. “It looks fine.”
You stare at him in horror. “Fine?” you repeat.
Keys leans back slightly in his chair. “You care too much about aesthetics.”
“And you don’t care enough.”
“That’s because users prioritize usability.”
“And users also don’t want to look at ugly shit.”
One of the nearby coworkers glances over briefly before immediately pretending not to listen.
“So this is how today’s gonna go?” he asks.
You smile sweetly. “Probably.”
Keys stares at the screen for another second before dragging his chair slightly closer to yours. He taps the side of your monitor. “Okay, look. The layout itself isn’t bad,” he says reluctantly. “The spacing’s just off.”
You narrow your eyes immediately. “Did you just agree with me?”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
For the next twenty minutes, the arguing somehow turns productive. Which feels wayyy more concerning than the arguing itself. You adjust layouts while Keys fixes backend issues beside you, both of you interrupting each other constantly. At one point your hand reaches toward the mouse at the exact same time his does, causing you both to freeze, then immediately pull back like touching each other would result in instant death.
“You go,” Keys says finally.
You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “Why are you being nice?”
“I’m not. You just look attached to the mouse.”
“I hate you.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
A few desks away, one of the developers snorts quietly trying not to laugh. You don’t even notice Parker walking back over until his coffee cup lands softly against your desk. You and Keys look up at the same time, Parker smiles then glances between your screens once.
“…Jesus,” he mutters.
You blink. “Is something wrong?”
“This is the fastest anyone’s fixed this project all week.”
You glance toward Keys instinctively.
“She’s being aggressively controlling about the visuals,” Keys says flatly.
“And he has the design instincts of a tax accountant,” you reply immediately.
Parker looks between both of you again then smiles in realization. “There it is,” he says.
“There what is?” you ask.
“You two stop trying to outdo each other for five seconds and suddenly everything works.”
You and Keys answer instantly. “We are not working well together.”
Parker looks deeply unconvinced. “Mhm,” he says, clearly not listening. “Anyway, keep going.”
You stare at your monitor while Keys stares at his. “…I don’t like when he says things like that,” you mutter eventually.
“Agreed.”
“It feels manipulative.”
“Extremely.”
You nod once then point toward the screen again. “That icon still looks ugly.”
Keys exhales through his nose tiredly. “You’re annoying as fuck.”
Keys opens his mouth to argue again before stopping abruptly when Parker reappears beside your desks. “You two always this loud?” he asks casually.
“Yes,” both of you answer immediately.
Parker snorts quietly before setting another file onto Keys’ desk. “New task.”
Keys picks it up first, scanning over the pages, his eyebrows life slightly.
“What’s up?” you ask immediately.
Parker looks at you. “Need someone to reorganize the asset management system before the end of the day.”
Keys nods once already reaching for his keyboard. “Okay, I’m your guy-”
Parker’s eyes land directly on you, cutting Keys off from speaking. “And I want you handling the interface cleanup solo now.”
You blink. “Me?”
“You’re faster.”
Keys goes still beside you for half a second too long before leaning back in his chair again.
“You finish early,” he continues casually, “you can head home. I know you’re both still settling into the apartment situation.”
You straighten slightly in your chair. “Seriously?”
“You already got more done in an hour than the last team managed all afternoon yesterday.”
You try very hard not to look too pleased with yourself. “Thank you,” you say, already reaching for the folder
Beside you, Keys clicks something onto his screen harder than necessary. Parker finally walks off again after that, disappearing toward another section of the office. Awkward silence is left between you and Keys for a second before you break it.
“Well,” you say carefully, turning slightly toward him, “that was humiliating for you.”
Keys doesn’t even look away from his monitor. “You’re talking a lot.”
“I like talking.”
“You should stop.”
“Why should I listen to you?” you say with attitude.
“You know,” he says calmly, “I think living together is already damaging my psychological health.”
You grin slightly before turning your attention back toward your monitor. “Good. Build character.”
For the next few hours, the office fades into the background while you work. You lock into the project completely, fixing layouts, reorganizing menus, cleaning transitions. Every time Parker walks past your desk, he pauses a little longer. At one point, another designer actually stops behind your chair, including Emilie — the manager of the design department.
Around three in the afternoon, you were able to finish. You stare at your screen for a second almost suspiciously, waiting for another issue to appear, another bug, another broken transition hiding somewhere in the interface. You lean back slowly in your chair, stretching your arms above your head with a quiet groan while the office buzzes around you. A second later, Parker stops beside your desk again, eyes scanning your monitor.
“…holy shit,” he mutters.
You grin immediately. “Good holy shit or bad holy shit?”
“Very good holy shit.”
Parker points toward your screen. “This is exactly what I wanted. Cleaner layout, faster flow, less clutter.” He looks genuinely impressed now. “You did all this yourself?”
You nod once, trying not to look too smug about it.
Across from you, Keys spins slightly in his chair toward Parker. “I helped earlier.”
“You complained earlier,” you correct immediately.
“I contributed emotionally.”
“You actively lowered morale.”
Parker laughs again before shaking his head slightly. “Alright, alright. Either way, good work.” Then he looks directly at you. “You can head out early if you want.”
You blink once. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Go enjoy having a life before this place destroys you.”
You glance toward Keys automatically which was a mistake, he’s already looking at you. He’s not looking at you with anger, more annoyance.
You immediately smile brighter out of pure spite. “Aww,” you say sweetly while shutting your laptop. “Thank you, Parker.”
Keys narrows his eyes slightly. “You’re laying it on thick now.”
“I earned it.”
“You’re insufferable when praised.”
“You noticed?”
“Unfortunately.”
You stand up slowly, grabbing your bag off the side of your chair while nearby coworkers glance over. “Damn. Day two and she already beat that McKeys guy.”
Keys points at the guy immediately without even looking away from his screen. “You shut the fuck up.”
You physically bite back a laugh. “Oh my god,” you say while sliding your bag onto your shoulder. “You’re actually upset and making more enemies to work.”
“I’m not upset.”
“You’re typing aggressively.”
“I always type aggressively.”
Keys glares at his keyboard like it betrayed him personally. Parker shakes his head slightly before walking away again. You linger near your desk for another second longer than necessary. Part of you wants to keep bothering him, which is probably a bad sign. Put what’s so bad about playing with fire.
“So,” you say casually, leaning slightly against the divider between your cubicles, “what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”
Keys keeps typing. “Working.”
“Ew.”
“Some of us weren’t granted special princess privileges.”
You gasp dramatically. “Are you jealous?”
“No,” he says immediately.
You narrow your eyes.
“…you are.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You’re pouting.”
“I do not pout.”
“You absolutely pout.”
Keys finally looks over at you then, visibly irritated now. “Can you leave? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
You grin slowly, “Oh my god,” you say softly. “You’re mad mad.”
“I’m deleting your project.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I absolutely would.”
“You need me.”
“That’s disgusting. Don’t say things like that.”
You laugh again before finally starting toward the elevators. “Bye, Keys!”
The elevator ride down feels weirdly quiet without Keys next to you talking shit every thirty seconds. You lean against the back wall of the elevator while checking your phone, scrolling aimlessly through notifications while the numbers tick lower floor by floor. Your reflection stares back at you in the metal doors, hair still somehow holding up, lip gloss mostly intact, necklaces catching the soft fluorescent light overhead. The second the elevator dings doors open, the city noise hits you immediately. You step outside adjusting your bag higher onto your shoulder before pulling your phone out again.
You stop outside a small corner store a few blocks from the studio, staring through the windows for a second before sighing dramatically and heading inside. Twenty minutes later, you’re walking back out with groceries, the basic needs. The plastic bags dig painfully into your fingers while you walk back toward the apartment building. By the time you finally unlock the apartment door, your arms ache. You kick the door shut behind you dramatically, relief you’re back at home.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter while dropping the grocery bags onto the counter.
You immediately turn the TV on for background noise while unpacking groceries slowly into the mostly empty cabinets. It still feels weird seeing actual food in the kitchen now instead of just one bottle of water and mutual resentment. You’re halfway through organizing snacks when your phone buzzes against the counter.
A text from Parker.
Great work today. Seriously!!!
You smile slightly despite yourself.
Then another message immediately follows:
Try not to kill each other before Friday.
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At some point over the last few hours, the room stopped looking like a storage unit and started looking like your actual bedroom.
The dresser is filled with your clothes, clothes are hanging in the closet - color coded of course -, makeup is organized across the desk, your jewelry tray sits beside the bed, necklaces untangled for once in their lives, chargers are plugged in, the comforter you brought from home is spread across the mattress instead of the stiff white one the apartment came with.
You pause in the middle of the room, hands on your hips as you look around.
Honestly? For someone who spent the entire day working and then hauled groceries and half her belongings across the city afterward, you’ve gotten a ridiculous amount done.
You pull open the second drawer of your night stand next to your bed slowly, digging underneath a bunch of little trinkets you threw in there in a rush before your fingers find what you’re looking for. “Thank god.”
A small grin pulls at your mouth. Some people kept emergency cash in a drawer around their house, you kept emergency weed.
You pull the stash out and set it on the bed before grabbing your rolling tray from another box, it takes a few minutes to gather everything together. Lighter, grinder, papers. The familiar routine of your nightly smoke sessions settles some of the leftover nerves still bouncing around your chest. You unscrew the lid from the jar and immediately relax a little at the familiar smell. “God, finally.”
You grind everything up absentmindedly, tapping the grinder against the tray before dumping it out carefully. You roll the small piece of cardstock automatically, pinching it between your fingers before setting it at one end of the paper. You sprinkle everything carefully down the center. You stare at it too hard, remove some because you feel like it’s too much, add some back, remove some, add some back. You hold the paper between your thumbs, distributing everything evenly before beginning the familiar back-and-forth motion. You tuck the paper carefully before you roll upward, you give the edge of it a lick then you seal it.
“And that’s how you roll a joint.” you hold it up, praising it.
You twist the end of the container closed before setting it carefully on the tray. You stand and stretch slightly before grabbing your lighter off the nightstand and slipping your phone into your pocket. You slide open the hallway window before carefully climbing onto the fire escape that’s attached to your apartment. The metal groans softly beneath your weight, cool air immediately brushes against your skin. You settle onto the platform, pulling one knee toward your chest while the city stretches out below you.
You place the joint between your lips, shielding the flame with one hand while the lighter sparks. The end of the joint glows orange, you take a slow hit before exhaling toward the night sky.
Then the apartment door slams, causing your body to jump.
Your eyes close immediately. “…go away.” you whisper.
Heavy, careless footsteps move through the apartment. You grin to yourself, looks like someone’s having a bad day.
A few seconds later the window beside you slides open, you glance over at it. Keys appears looking genuinely irritated with the entire world. He had changed his clothes, his hair messy, flowing in the wind.
The second he notices you sitting there, his expression somehow gets worse. “What the fuck are you doing?”
You slowly look down at the joint in your hand, your eyes go back to him, then back to the joint, then back to him. “…smoking?”
His jaw tightens, he clenches his nose from the strong smell, “I can see that, why?”
You blink, “What do you mean why?”
“Why would are you doing that?”
You stare at him for a second, “Oh my god.”
“What?” he shrugs.
“You’ve never smoked before.” you point at him, in disbelief.
His eyebrows immediately pull together, “Yes I have.”
Lying straight out of his ass.
“…no you haven’t.”
“I literally just said I have.”
You point the joint at him dramatically, “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Keys folds his arms, “Why would I lie about that?”
You shrug then take a hit of the joint, blowing it away from him, “Because you’re weirdly competitive.”
“I’m not competitive.”
You immediately laugh, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“What?”
“You don’t even hear yourself.”
Keys rolls his eyes, “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Okay.” You sit up straighter against the brick wall. “What strain was it, that you smoked?”
His face immediately goes blank.
You smile, “Oh no.”
“It was…” He gestures vaguely. “Weed.”
You burst out laughing, “Weed?”
“Why do you even like that stuff?”
“And why are you even talking to me right now?”
He rolls his eyes, “I came out here because I needed air.”
You glance around the view of the city dramatically, “Well. Congratulations.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
Keys leans against the window frame. “I didn’t know you were out here.”
Keys watches you as you take another hit. Your eyes catch his, causing him to immediately look away. Something about it makes him uncomfortable. The sight is so ridiculous that you start laughing.
“What?” he asks full of attitude.
“Nothing.”
“You laughed.”
You hold the joint out toward him, offering. “Here.”
Keys physically recoils, “What the fuck?”
You laugh harder. “Relax, it’s clean.”
“No.”
“Relax.”
“No.”
“It’s one hit.”
“No.”
You wave it slightly, “Come on, you’ve had a terrible day.”
His eyes narrow, “My day was fine.”
“You’re exhausting.”
“And you’re sitting on a fire escape getting high by yourself.”
“Actually,” you say, glancing toward the kitchen, “I was about to make dinner.”
Keys looks unimpressed, “What does that have to do with anything?”
“The food’s gonna taste incredible.”
Keys stares at the joint for so long that you start wondering if he’s actually considering it.
You take another hit as he watches you.
Finally, he lets out a long breath through his nose, “Fine.”
You nearly choke at his words, “Fine?”
“One hit.”
The fact that Keys McKey, the same fucking man who spent the last ten minutes acting like smoking weed was the end of the world was even considering this feels impossible.
A grin immediately pulls at your mouth, “No way.”
“One hit,” he repeats.
“Keys.”
“One.”
You sit up straighter against the brick wall,“You are absolutely not about to smoke with me.”
“I’m not smoking with you.” His hand extends expectantly - reaching for the joint, “I’m proving a point.”
You laugh, “That’s somehow worse.” You pass the joint to him.
You hold the joint out before he can change his mind. He takes it from your hand, unsure of how to even hold the damn thing.
“This is stupid.”
“You volunteered.”
“I did not.”
“Uh you kinda did.”
Keys rolls his eyes as he brings the joint to his lips. His lips hug the end of the joint, his eye squinting as he slowly inhales the joint between his fingers. Maybe the tiniest hit you’ve ever seen. Keys pulls the joint away from his mouth, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Almost like he’s already preparing an I told you so.
Then he coughs sharp enough to make his eyebrows pull together immediately.
You start laughing, "Oh my god."
Keys waves you off, clearly trying to recover before you can make fun of him. Unfortunately, the movement only makes things worse. Another cough escapes him, then another, basically a cough attack. The coughing comes hard enough that he has to bend forward slightly, one hand coming up to cover his mouth while the other reaches blindly for the fire escape railing beside him. His shoulders shake with every cough, glasses slipping farther down his nose as he struggles to catch a proper breath between them.
Meanwhile, you're laughing so hard tears are already collecting in your eyes, "Keys."
Another cough cuts him off before he can even attempt to say something.
"Keys!"
He points at you accusingly, or at least tries to. The gesture barely lasts a second before another coughing fit takes over completely. His face is already turning red. His glasses have nearly fallen off. His eyes are watering so badly he can barely keep them open. Every time it looks like he's finally getting control of his breathing, another coughing fit hits him out of nowhere and sends him right back to square one.
The knot of concern in your stomach appears before you even realize it.
"Okay."
Another cough comes out of Keys mouth.
"Keys?"
He immediately waves you off like he's fine, to just ignore it. Keys tries taking a breath, which turns into another violent coughing fit.
"Oh." You lower the joint, "Oh shit."
"I can't fucking breathe." Keys says, struggling.
The second the words leave his mouth, you get up. Your body scrambles through the open window so fast you nearly trip over the big frame. The apartment and everything blurs around you as you rush toward the kitchen, immediately regretting every joke you’ve made in the last five minutes.
“Keys, don’t die!” You say, knowing he won’t.
“I’m not—” A coughing fit cuts him off from outside, “Trying to.”
“That’s exactly what somebody dying would say.”
You a cup that was sitting next to the sink under the faucet so quickly water splashes over your hand and onto the counter. By the time you get back to the fire escape, Keys is still leaning against the brick wall looking like he’s trying to catch his breath.
You immediately shove the water into his hands, "Drink."
As Keys drinks the water, you just sit there while he catches his breath, the worst of the coughing finally starting to fade. Slowly, his breathing evens out and the tension leaves his shoulders one inhale at a time.
After another moment, you glance over, “Better?”
Keys keeps staring straight ahead for a second before dragging a hand down his face, “…maybe…thanks.”
The words catch you off guard enough that you blink, “Aw, you just thanked me?”
Keys groans immediately, “I take it back.”
“There he is.”
He rolls his eyes and leans his head back against the brick wall again. The city lights catch briefly on his glasses before he pushes them up his nose. For a minute, neither of you says anything until the corner of his mouth twitches.
“You looked really worried.”
You immediately scoff, “I was not worried.”
“You ran.”
“I did not run.”
“You sprinted.”
You narrow your eyes. “Because if you died on our first day as roommates, I’d have a lot paperwork to fill out.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“I’m practical.”
“No, you’re mean.”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?”
“Barely.”
You stand up before he can keep rambling his mouth, brushing off the back of your shorts. You grab the nearly finished joint from where you’d set it beside you and head toward the window.
The apartment feels a lot warmer after the cool night air outside. Your music is still playing softly from your room, and the overhead light above the stove casts a yellow glow across the kitchen. You head straight for the fridge and pull it open - taking out the heavy cream, chicken, parmesan and garlic.
You tie your hair up without really thinking about it, grabbing a claw clip off the counter and twisting everything out of your face. The oversized Spider-Man shirt slips slightly off one shoulder while you fill a pot with water and set it on the stove. Cooking has always been one of those things that settles your brain, something about having a clear list of steps.
You toss in the pasta and stir it absentmindedly before turning your attention to the chicken. Salt, pepper, garlic pepper, paprika. Gordon Ramsey hates to see you coming!
“Something smells—”
His eyes move from the chicken to the pasta, then to the pan of sauce simmering on the stove.
“…okay,” he says after a second.
You immediately point the wooden spoon at him. “No.”
His eyebrows lift, “I didn’t even say anything,” he says, sounding genuinely offended.
“You were about to.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I was literally going to compliment the food,” he says.
You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “I don’t believe you.”
You go back to stirring the sauce, pretending not to pay attention to what he’s doing. Behind you, you hear Keys moving around the living room. The sound of a box opening. A curse muttered under his breath when a cable gets tangled. The scrape of the TV stand shifting slightly across the floor.
You glance over your shoulder once.
His backpack is dumped beside the couch, and he’s crouched in front of the television with approximately six different cords spread around him. For someone who works with technology for a living, he somehow looks deeply annoyed by all of it.
You smirk to yourself and turn back to the stove.
A few minutes later, the television flickers to life and the familiar PlayStation startup sound fills the apartment.
You drain the pasta into the sink while the sounds of a game menu begin drifting from the living room. Curiosity gets the best of you, causing you to glance over. “…Seriously?”
You expected him to play something related to whatever weird developer hobby he has.
“…are you playing Call of Duty?”
Keys doesn’t look away from the screen “Maybe.”
You shake your head and turn your attention back to the stove before the conversation can continue. The pasta gets tossed into the sauce, then the chicken follows a minute later, mixed through until everything’s coated. Steam curls up from the pan, carrying the smell of garlic and parmesan through the apartment.
You grab a plate from one of the cabinets and start serving yourself. The weed is beginning to settle in properly now. Not enough that you’re completely gone, but enough that everything feels a little softer around the edges.
Behind you, Keys mutters something aggressively at the television.
“HOW?”
You don’t even turn around, “Skill issue.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“You don’t have to.”
Keys lets out an offended noise somewhere behind you. By the time you’ve got everything balanced in your hands, you’ve already decided you’re not eating out here, you can only handle Keys in little doses - if you can even handle him at all.
You pick up your plate and start heading toward your room.
“Where are you going?” Keys asks without looking away from the television.
“My room.”
“Why?”
You stop in the doorway and look at him like he’s stupid, “Because I like peace.”
The gunfire coming from his television immediately undermines whatever argument he was about to make. You disappear into your room before he can say anything else, shutting the door with your food behind you. You climb onto the bed, settling against the headboard with your plate balanced carefully on your lap.
Outside your room, you can still hear the television and Keys swearing.
God, shut up.
Reaching over, you grab your laptop from the nightstand and flip it open. The screen glows against the dim lighting of your room while you balance the plate carefully on your lap. A few clicks later, the familiar opening of New Girl fills the room.
You’d seen every episode at least three times already, but that’s kind of the point. You can zone out, eat your food, and let Jess Day solve whatever ridiculous problem she’s gotten herself into. And pray that instead of Keys living with you it was Schmidt.
The first joke barely lands before you’re already smiling, the weeds definitely hitting now.
Another muffled, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” from the living room.
“Deserved.” you mouth, taking another bite.
You sink farther into your pillows, pull your blanket over your legs, and press play on the next episode while Keys continues losing his mind somewhere in the living room.
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You barely make it through half an episode of New Girl before there’s a knock on your door.
You don’t even look up from your laptop, “Go away.”
knock knock
You close your eyes, “Keys, I’m busy.”
knock knock
You pause your show and stare at the door, “What?”
“…can I ask you something?”
“No.”
“Please.”
You set your plate down on the nightstand, “What do you want?”
The doorknob turns before you can stop him, the door slowly cracking open. His head peaks inside, scanning his eyes around the room then turning to you.
The second you actually look at him, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
He’s high high.
His hair somehow looks messier than it did earlier, like he’s run his hands through it fifteen times in the last ten minutes trying to figure out why his brain feels weird. His glasses sit slightly crooked on his nose. His cheeks are a little pink from the coughing fit and his eyes, his eyes are completely glassy and bloodshot red. Each time he blinks it gets slower and slower.
“You look ridiculous,” you say, putting your hand over your mouth to refrain you from laughing.
“I look normal.”
“You absolutely do not.”
“I do.”
“Okay,” you say slowly. “So what did you actually come in here to ask me?”
Key blinks a few times, trying to catch up with this thoughts.
“Oh,” his eyebrows pull together, “Right.”
You immediately point at him. “See? You forgot again.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“You absolutely forgot.”
“I remembered just now.”
“That’s not helping your case.”
Instead of arguing with you, he shifts his weight against the doorframe and looks at you with too much seriousness that would’ve been intimidating if his eyes weren’t completely gone.
“…is it supposed to feel like this?”
The question makes you laugh immediately, especially in the tone that he said it in.
His face falls, “That’s not helpful.”
“What does that even mean?” you ask through a grin.
Keys gestures vaguely, like you’re supposed to know what he’s talking about. Which technically you do, you just want to hear him say it.
“Like…” He pauses. “Everything feels weird.”
“Wow.”
“Stop.”
“No, keep going.”
He runs a hand through his already destroyed hair, “The hallway felt longer.”
“The hallway?”
“It did.”
“The living room is right there.”
“It felt longer.”
You bury your face in a pillow, “Oh my god.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because you took one hit.”
“It was a very powerful hit.”
“It was not.”
Keys points at you dramatically, “See? That’s easy for you to say because you’re used to being like this.”
You stare at him, “Being like what?”
He gestures again, “This.”
“This isn’t helping.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re all…” He squints. “…calm.”
“It’ll go by, you’re supposed to not freak yourself out. Just enjoy the high.” You shrug.
Keys gives an uncertain nod, as if he wasn’t satisfied with the answer that you gave him. He looks around your room some more, analyzing it. You look down, fiddling with your thumbs.
“So.. can you get out now?”
“I’m just asking questions.”
Keys narrows his eyes, you narrow yours right back at him. Like he’s not getting the hint. Eventually he backs out into the hallway.
“This is hostile.”
“Goodnight, Keys.”
He quietly shuts the door on his way out.
You settle back against your headboard with a satisfied sigh and glance at your laptop again. New Girl is still playing quietly in the corner of the screen, but your attention span is completely gone at this point. Pasta is almost finished and the weed is still doing, but you don’t have the attention span to keep watching something.
Five minutes later you’re sitting cross-legged on your bed playing Dress to Impress like your life depends on it. And that’s what you keep doing for the next 25 minutes.
Eventually your empty plate is sitting beside you and your character has been robbed of first place three separate times by people who clearly don’t understand fashion or who are just voting five stars to only their friends.
You finally drag yourself off the bed with a dramatic groan. You carry your plate toward the kitchen, already preparing yourself for whatever weird thing Keys is doing now. The second you walk around the corner, you stop.
“…what the fuck?”
Keys looks up from the stovetop, with pasta sauce all over his mouth and quite literally all over the counter. The giant bowl you cooked dinner in is sitting in front of him.
“Is that my cooking spoon?”
Keys slowly looks down at the giant wooden spoon in his hand, then back at you. “…maybe.”
You make a horrified noise, “Keys.”
“What?”
“Why are you eating directly out of the bowl?”
He looks genuinely confused, “Because there was pasta in it.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It kinda does.”
You set your plate down in the sink and walk closer. The closer you get, the worse it becomes. The man is absolutely demolishing your garlic chicken pasta, but you’re honestly surprised he’s even eating something you cooked.
You point at it, “How much of that did you eat?”
Keys follows your finger, looking into the bowl, “…I don’t know.”
“Oh my god.”
He glances up at you, then back at the pasta, then back to you. His eyes slightly narrow, “You made this?”
You stare, “Yes.”
“I thought you ordered it.”
“You watched me cook.”
“Shhhh…” He says, putting a finger to his mouth sloppily, then continues to eat the pasta.
You point to his shirt immediately, “Wait.”
Keys looks down at himself. “What?”
“Your shirt.”
He blinks, “My shirt?”
“You have sauce all over it, idiot.”
Keys looks down, wow he is a fucking mess. Right there across the front of his gray t-shirt is a streak of garlic cream sauce he apparently managed to get on himself without noticing.
“Oh.”
You wait for him to grab a napkin, or look around for a towel. Instead, Keys just grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head, like it was the easiest solution.
Your brain immediately short-circuits. Enough that your eyes immediately drop to the toned stomach that definitely wasn’t there five seconds ago. Enough that the sleeves hiding his arms all day suddenly make a lot more sense. Enough that you instantly understand why Eve called him cute within the first hour of meeting him.
Oh that’s annoying.
Keys tosses the shirt onto the counter and reaches for another bite of pasta, completely unaware and still talking.
“…I still think somebody stole some of this.”
You stare, not as his face - unfortunately.
You immediately look away, “Put your shirt back on.”
Keys pauses, he looks down at himself then looks back at you. “…why?”
Nothing but straight attitude comes out of this guys mouth.
You hate him.
You grab a dish towel off the counter and throw it directly at his chest.
“Put. A shirt. On.”
Keys catches it automatically, staring at the towel.
“…you know this isn’t a shirt, right?”
“Oh my God.”
“It’s a towel.”
“I am aware.”
He looks between the towel and you, his eyes narrow in suspicion. “You looked away.”
You freeze, “No I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You totally did.”
You point at him, “You’re high off your ass.”
“You’re deflecting.”
“Keys.”
“You looked away.”
He sounds way too pleased with himself.
Somehow the weed has made him more annoying.
Keys leans against the counter, completely shirtless and entirely too comfortable about it.
Then the corner of his mouth twitches, “Oh.”
Your stomach drops, “What?”
A grin starts pulling at his mouth, “You don’t like what you see?”
You both start staring at each other, but Keys looks entirely too proud of himself which makes you laugh.
“You took one hit of weed and suddenly think you’re God’s gift to women.”
His grin gets bigger, “You didn’t answer the question.”
You look around, scanning the kitchen to find something. Your eyes land on the potholder next to you. Something light, but something to shut him up. You immediately grab the potholder throw it at his head.
Keys catches it with one hand, “Interesting.”
“What is?”
“You got defensive.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I think the weed is making you hallucinate.”
“I think you’re avoiding the question.”
You stare at him - his stupid grin - then you stare at the pasta bowl.
“You ate my dinner.”
His smile disappears instantly, “…that’s a good point.”
“Thank you.”
“You know, I forgot about that.”
“I know.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
You fold your arms, “Put your shirt back on, McKey.”
Keys looks down at himself, then back at you.
“…can I finish the pasta first?”
You make a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scream. Keys finally grabs the rest of the bowl and starts heading back toward the living room.
Halfway back to the couch he stops walking, his body slowly turns around facing you. He points at you then back to the bowl, “You make good pasta, California.”
For a second, you think that might actually be the closest thing to a compliment you’ve gotten out of him all day.
“…don’t let it go to your head.” he adds.
You point toward the hallway, “Goodnight, Keys.”
“Goodnight, California.”
“Stop calling me that.”
You finish cleaning up the kitchen before shutting off the lights one by one. By the time you make it back to your room, your laptop is still open on your bed, Roblox waiting patiently where you left it. You crawl underneath the blankets and pull the comforter up to your chin. Outside your room, you can still hear the television faintly through the wall.
Tomorrow you’ll probably argue with him before nine in the morning. Tomorrow he’ll almost definitely find a new way to annoy you. Tomorrow you’ll have to spend a full day with him at work.
And tomorrow, you’ll do it all over again.
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reblogs and notes are appreciated as always, thank you.
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smashingkeys69
my navigation part two here
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.
Temporary Fix | Steve Harrington
Chapter Sixteen - Every Version Of You
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
warnings: emotional vulnerability, relationship anxiety, fear of abandonment, miscommunication, references to steve’s past relationship with nancy, insecurity/self-sabotaging thoughts, mutual pining, awkward first-date nerves, intense kissing/making out, mentions of sex, steve climbing through the window soaking wet (EXACTLY) , crying/almost crying, emotional confessions, two idiots painfully in love trying to communicate properly for once
word count: 11k words
series masterlist
summary: you and steve were friends first, and that was the part that mattered. everything else, the late nights, the quiet routine, the way he kept showing up, didn't mean anything. it was easy. something the two of you fell into without really thinking about it. something that didn't need to be explained. because as long as it stayed like this, nothing had to change. right?
an: pls this chapter is definitely a roller coaster but it felt so right writing it. im sososoos happy with it and i hope you are too. it's been taking me longer to update due to being so busy with my personal life + wanting these chapters to have more emotion in them.
but sadly, temporary fix is coming to an end soon. i'll bawl. thank you for all the love and support you've given this series bc it means soo fucking much to me. i started writing a keys mckey fic, "conflict resolution" if you're interested in reading!! im soooo happy to start working a lot on that.
reblogs are appreciated <3
🎧
friday i’m in love - the cure
mystery of love - sufjan stevens
every breath you take - the police
pictures of you - the cure
iris - goo goo dolls
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By five-thirty, your bedroom looked like a small disaster. Three shirts abandoned across the end of the bed, jeans half inside out on the floor, one earring missing somewhere near your vanity. You stood in front of the mirror with your arms crossed, staring at yourself like maybe if you looked long enough you’d suddenly stop caring. And it was deeply irritating that you did care that much.
Outside your window, Hawkins was slipping slowly into evening in it’s familiar tone. The sky dimming softer blue by the minute, cicadas buzzing faintly through the cracked window above your desk. Your room smelled faintly like perfume and hairspray now from how long you’d spent getting ready without technically admitting that’s what you were doing.
You adjusted your necklace once more, then immediately frowned at yourself in the mirror. “This is stupid,” you muttered quietly.
Because it was stupid, it was just one date. One date with Steve Harrington who you’d already kissed approximately a thousand times by now. Steve Harrington who’d been in your bed and underneath you and against you on half the furniture in Hawkins at this point.
“You know,” Robin said casually, “at some point this stops being getting ready and starts becoming a psychological episode.”
You narrowed your eyes at her through the mirror. “You’re deeply unsupportive.”
“I came over here voluntarily.”
“You invited yourself.”
“Still counts.”
You sighed dramatically before turning sideways toward the mirror again, adjusting your shirt for absolutely no reason. Your room smelled faintly like hairspray and perfume now, the evening air drifting softly through the cracked window above your bed. Outside, Hawkins was slipping slowly into sunset, blue light stretching across the walls of your room while music played quietly from the radio near your vanity.
Robin watched you for a second longer before grinning slightly. “You care what he thinks.”
Your head snapped toward her immediately. “No I don’t.”
“You literally changed shirts four times.”
“Three.”
Robin pointed at you triumphantly. “You knew the number immediately.”
You groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it at her. She caught it easily, laughing.
“It’s one date,” you muttered, turning back toward the mirror again.
Which was technically true, it is just one date. One date with Steve Harrington who you’d already kissed approximately a thousand times by now. Steve Harrington who’d been in your bed and underneath you and against you on half the furniture in Hawkins at this point.
And for some reason, that felt way scarier than having him between your thighs on a couch ever did.
“You are deeply annoying,” you informed her flatly.
“And you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You rummaged your room to find the earrings Harrington gave you last year for your birthday.”
“Well, the other silver ones looked weird.”
Robin grinned triumphantly before tossing the pillow back toward you. “Honestly? It’s kinda cute.”
You groaned loudly, falling backward onto the edge of the bed. “I hate this.”
“No you don’t.”
Unfortunately, she was right. Robin softened slightly after a second, leaning back against your dresser now. “He’s been weird all week, by the way.”
You looked up immediately despite yourself. “What kind of weird?”
“Steve weird.” She shrugged lightly. “Quiet, distracted. Keeps checking the clock every five seconds.” A pause. “Yesterday he rewound the same tape three times because he forgot he already did it.”
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, you could picture steve doing exactly what she said.
Robin smiled faintly at the sound. “He’s nervous.”
Your chest tightened unexpectedly at her words. Steve didn’t really get nervous anymore, or at least it wasn’t visible to you. Not like how he was in high school. Not like how he was when he was with Nancy. And somehow the fact that he was nervous now made this feel even more real.
Before you could say anything else, Robin’s eyes suddenly flicked toward your bedroom window. “…oh shit,” she said slowly.
Your stomach dropped instantly. “What?”
Instead of answering, Robin slowly pointed toward the window. You turned so fast you almost knocked your soda over. Steve’s BMW sat parked outside your house headlights reflecting on the evening fog, slightly crooked against the curb like he’d pulled in too quickly. Your breath caught immediately. “He’s early,” you whispered.
Robin looked toward the clock on your nightstand. “By eighteen minutes,” she said. “Which for Steve Harrington is basically a cry for help.”
You ignored her, stepping closer to the window before stopping just short of it. Steve was still sitting inside the car. One hand tapped nervously against the steering wheel while the other held something low in his lap.
Flowers.
Your chest tightened instantly.
“Oh my god,” Robin whispered dramatically behind you. “He brought flowers.”
“Shut up.”
“No, this is serious.”
You glanced back toward her quickly. “Do I look okay?”
Robin blinked once like she couldn’t believe you just asked that. “You’ve asked me that seven times.”
“Well answer it again.”
“You look hot, relax.”
You exhaled shakily before turning back toward the window again. Steve still hadn’t gotten out yet. From here, you could barely make out his face through the windshield, but you could see him moving slightly, head tilted downward like he was talking to himself.
Robin narrowed her eyes. “…is he rehearsing?”
Your stomach flipped violently. “He is not.”
“He absolutely is.”
You watched Steve drag a hand through his hair once before glancing toward your house then immediately away again. Causing your chest to physically ache.
Robin suddenly grabbed both your shoulders. “Okay. Important question.”
“What?”
“Do you want him seeing me here?”
Your eyes widened immediately. “Oh my god, no.”
“Right. Exactly.”
You both stared at each other for half a second before Robin moved instantly.
“Closet,” you hissed.
“My life story, no. .”
“Girl…then under the bed!”
“That’s worse!”
The doorbell rang downstairs, both of you froze.
“Oh my god,” you whisper-yelled.
Robin pointed at you immediately. “GO.”
“You go!”
“IT’S YOUR DATE.”
The doorbell rang again.
You grabbed Robin by the wrist and dragged her toward your bedroom door anyway while both of you tried not to laugh too loudly.
“Hurry up,” you whispered frantically.
Robin slipped out into the hallway before turning back once more. “If he cries over you tonight, I need details later.”
“Robin.”
“I’m serious.”
You shoved her lightly toward the stairs. She laughed under her breath and disappeared down the hallway just as another knock echoed faintly downstairs.
Your pulse was everywhere now, you glanced at yourself in the mirror one last time. Then immediately regretted looking because now you noticed everything wrong again. Your hair suddenly messy, your necklace sitting crooked, your hands shaking slightly when you fixed it.
Another knock downstairs.
You inhaled deeply then headed for the front door.
By the time you reached the hallway, you could hear your parents somewhere faintly in the kitchen, television murmuring softly from the living room. Which somehow made this feel even scarier.
You opened the front door carefully and immediately forgot how breathing worked for a second.
Steve stood there holding a slightly uneven bouquet of flowers in one hand, the paper wrapping crinkled from how tightly he’d probably been gripping it in the car. A few stems sat crooked. One flower bent slightly sideways near the middle.
Hair fixed but slightly messy already like he’d run his hands through it too much. Dark jacket over a polo, jacket sleeves pushed up a little bit. His eyes found yours instantly, and whatever sentence he’d clearly rehearsed disappeared completely from his face.
For a second, neither of you spoke. Then Steve looked down at the flowers like he almost forgot he was holding them. “…hi,” he said softly.
Your heart nearly stopped. “Hi.”
He held the flowers out toward you carefully. “These are for you.”
You took them slowly, fingers brushing his for half a second. Your stomach flipped all over again.
Because they were your favorite flowers.
Tulips.
Your eyes lifted back to his immediately. “…how did you know?”
Steve blinked once like the question surprised him. “You told me once.”
“I did?”
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Junior year prom.”
You stared at him in confusion.
Steve shrugged lightly, suddenly looking embarrassed now that he’d said it out loud. “Your date brought lilies,” he explained quietly. “You spent like twenty minutes complaining to Robin quietly because you said they smelled like funeral homes.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.“Oh my god.”
“You were very passionate about it.”
“You remembered that?”
Steve’s expression softened immediately.“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I remembered.”
Something shifted in Steve’s face when you laughed, the sound of it settled something nervous inside him. His shoulders loosened slightly, tension easing out of him little by little while you looked back down at the flowers in your hands again. Up close, they looked even less perfect. One stem shorter than the others. Paper crinkled unevenly around the bouquet. Like he’d fixed and refixed them a hundred times before knocking on your door.
You smiled despite yourself. “They’re really pretty,” you said softly.
Steve looked relieved enough that it almost made your chest hurt. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For half a second he just stood there looking at you again, and suddenly the porch felt smaller than it should’ve. The warm porch light catching against the gold in his hair, the fading sunset stretching soft blue behind him. Somewhere down the street, somebody’s dog barked once before everything settled quiet again.
Steve cleared his throat lightly. “Okay good,” he muttered. “Cause I almost didn’t buy them.”
Your brows lifted immediately. “What?”
“I bought them.” He pointed vaguely toward the flowers. “Then thought maybe flowers were too much, so I left the store.” A pause. “Then I went back.”
A laugh slipped out of you again.
Steve smiled crookedly at the sound, shaking his head once like he already regretted admitting any of this. “I’m bombing this already, huh?”
“No,” you said immediately. And maybe you answered too fast because Steve looked at you for half a second longer after that. “No,” you repeated quieter this time, smiling a little. “You’re doing good.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the bouquet while your heartbeat continued absolutely humiliating you.
Steve glanced past you briefly toward the inside of the house before looking back at you again. “You ready?”
You nodded automatically. “Yeah.”
Then neither of you moved, your eyes met again. The air felt strange all over again. Heavy in that nervous almost-intimate way where both people are hyperaware of each other standing too close.
Steve shifted slightly on the porch, hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket before immediately back out again like he couldn’t decide what to do with himself. “You look really nice, by the way,” he said quietly.
Your stomach flipped violently. “You already saw me this morning.”
“Yeah,” he said easily. “You still look nice.”
You looked down immediately because suddenly maintaining eye contact felt impossible. Steve smiled a little to himself at that.
Then, finally, he stepped back from the doorway slightly and gestured toward the driveway. “C’mon.”
You followed him down the porch steps carefully, still clutching the flowers against your chest while the cool evening air curled around both of you. Steve moved slightly ahead at first before slowing automatically so you walked beside him instead. The closer you got to the BMW, the more evidence there was of Steve Harrington having a complete internal breakdown before arriving.
A gas station receipt crumpled near the windshield, three packs of gum in the passenger seat, what looked suspiciously like another shirt thrown in the back.
You stared, Steve noticed immediately. “…don’t look at that.”
A grin pulled at your mouth instantly. “Did you bring emergency backup clothes?”
“No.”
“Steve.”
“Maybe.”
You laughed quietly under your breath while he opened the passenger door for you before you could tease him any harder. That almost got you more than the flowers did. Because Steve always used to act effortless. But this was straight up effort. The kind that mattered because he cared whether tonight went well.
The drive started awkwardly, how usual first dates go. It was mostly you being aware. Aware of him, aware of yourself, aware of every tiny movement in the car.
Steve kept one hand on the steering wheel while the other tapped lightly against his thigh to the beat of whatever song played low through the speakers. Something older and soft enough to settle underneath the sound of the engine. The inside of the car smelled faintly like his cologne, peppermint gum, and the flowers sitting carefully across your lap.
You caught him glancing at you twice in the first five minutes. Both times he looked away immediately after, which only made it worse.
“You bought too much gum,” you said finally, eyeing the ridiculous amount shoved near the cupholders.
Steve groaned instantly. “Oh my god.”
“There’s literally enough here for a small classroom.”
“I got nervous.”
“You panic-purchased gum?”
“Yes.”
You laughed softly, turning toward him slightly in your seat. “That’s weirdly endearing.”
Steve glanced at you briefly before looking back at the road. “Please never say the word endearing to me again.”
“Why?”
“Feels humiliating somehow.”
Your smile widened. Outside the windows, Hawkins blurred slowly past in soft evening colors. Streetlights beginning to flicker on one by one. Storefronts glowing warm against the darkening sky. Steve drove slower than usual tonight. Not because he had to, he didn’t seem in a hurry for any of this to end.
Your fingers brushed absentmindedly across one of the flower petals resting against your lap. “So where are we actually going?”
Steve’s mouth pulled slightly at one corner. “It’s a surprise.”
You stared at him. “You planned things?”
“That sounded way meaner than you intended.”
“No, I’m genuinely shocked.”
He laughed quietly under his breath, shaking his head once. “Wow. Good to know your expectations for me are insanely low.”
“I didn’t say low.”
“You implied low.”
“You heard low.”
“Because it was low.”
You laughed again and Steve glanced over instinctively at the sound, smiling without even realizing it this time. The nervousness and carefulness softened. Like both of you were slowly remembering how easy this could feel when you stopped overthinking every second of it.
The rest of the drive felt easier after that. Not because the nerves disappeared completely, but because neither of you were pretending they weren’t there anymore.
Steve reached over at a red light and turned the music up slightly. You recognized the song immediately, soft guitar filling the car low enough that it blended into the hum of the engine.
“You like this one?” you asked.
Steve glanced over briefly. “You do.”
Your brows lifted. “That wasn’t the question.”
A faint grin tugged at his mouth. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I do.”
You looked at him for half a second longer than necessary before turning back toward the window again, trying unsuccessfully to hide your smile.
Steve slowed the car carefully before pulling into a small diner parking lot near the edge of downtown.
You looked over immediately. “Wait.”
His expression shifted instantly into concern. “What?”
“You brought me here?”
“…yeah?”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Steve, we practically lived here junior year.”
Relief crossed his face immediately. “Okay good. For a second I thought you hated it.”
“No, I love it, you know I do.”
“Jesus, you scared me.” He exhaled dramatically.
You laughed again while Steve parked crookedly near the front windows.
Inside the diner, everything glowed warm gold beneath hanging lights and old neon beer signs. The air smelled like fries, syrup, and coffee that had probably been sitting too long on the burners. A few people sat scattered through booths near the windows while an old rock song hummed softly through the overhead speakers.
The waitress near the front visibly lit up when Steve walked in. “Well, look who decided to come say hi,” she said immediately.
Steve laughed under his breath. “Hi, Marlene.”
Her eyes moved toward you instantly before narrowing knowingly. “Ohhh.”
Heat climbed into your face immediately.
Steve sighed. “Don’t.”
Marlene ignored him completely. “You’re the girl from—”
“Marlene.”
“Right. Okay.” She grinned shamelessly before grabbing menus anyway. “Booth or table?”
“Booth,” Steve answered automatically.
The booth at the back near the windows was somehow exactly the same as it always used to be. Same cracked red vinyl seats, same initials carved messily into the tabletop, same view of the parking lot through slightly fogged glass. Steve slid into the seat across from you while you carefully rested the flowers beside you near the window.
His eyes flicked toward them immediately, you noticed. “What?” you asked.
“Nothin’.”
“You keep looking at them.”
A faint pink crept up the back of his neck instantly. “Just making sure you actually like them.”
Your expression softened immediately. “I do,” you said quietly.
Steve looked down toward the menu after that like maybe eye contact suddenly became dangerous. You smiled a little to yourself before opening your own menu. A comfortable silence settled between you for the first time all night.
Then Steve glanced back up suddenly. “You know what’s weird?”
“What?”
“I used to think you hated me.”
You blinked once. “What?”
“In middle school,” he clarified quickly, smiling faintly now. “You were terrifying.”
A laugh burst out of you immediately. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“You used to throw basketballs at people for fun.”
“Okay, first of all, that happened one time.”
“Steve.”
“Maybe twice.”
You laughed harder now, and Steve’s expression softened immediately at the sound again.
“No, seriously,” he continued, leaning back slightly into the booth now. “You never talked to me unless it was to insult me.”
“I did not insult you.”
“You called me a douchebag in seventh grade.”
“Because you were being a douchebag in seventh grade, still can be one by the way.”
“That’s fair,” he admitted instantly.
Your smile lingered while you watched him across the table.
This version of Steve still surprised you sometimes.
Not the loud version, not the flirt, not the guy everybody in Hawkins thought they knew.
This quieter version.
The one who remembered flowers from sophomore year, the one who got nervous,
the one who looked at you like he still couldn’t believe you were here with him now.
Marlene came back before either of you could say anything else, setting two waters down onto the table with the kind of grin that meant she was absolutely listening. “You kids ready?”
Steve didn’t even look at the menu anymore. “Burger. Fries. Coke.”
“You still ordering like a twelve-year-old?”
“Consistency builds character.”
Marlene looked toward you. You ordered after him, and Steve interrupted halfway through.
“She hates pickles.”
Your eyes snapped toward him immediately.
Steve froze slightly. “…sorry. That was annoying.”
“No,” you said before you could stop yourself. “You just remember weird things.”
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.”
Marlene looked between both of you once before muttering, “Jesus Christ,” under her breath and walking away.
The second she disappeared, you laughed quietly into your drink.
Steve groaned immediately. “We are never coming back here again.”
“Yes we are.”
“She’s gonna tell everybody.”
“She already knows everybody.”
“Exactly my point.”
You smiled into your straw while Steve shook his head, still embarrassed. Outside the diner windows, headlights slid slowly across the parking lot. Somewhere near the kitchen, somebody dropped a plate and cursed loudly enough to make both of you glance over automatically.
And then Steve laughed. Not the practiced charming laugh he used around people. The softer, caught off guard laugh he has.
Your chest tightened instantly.
“What?” he asked when he noticed you staring again.
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The looking at me thing.”
Heat rushed into your face immediately. “I’m literally just sitting here.”
“Yeah,” he said easily. “And staring at me.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away completely.
Steve leaned back slightly against the booth, looking weirdly pleased with himself now. “You know what’s nice?”
“What?”
“You’re meaner when you’re nervous.”
Your jaw dropped. “I am not nervous.”
“You threatened my life three times in the car.”
“That was playful.”
“You called me pathetic over gum.”
“You bought four packs.”
“Three,” he corrected automatically.
You stared at him.
Steve sighed. “…okay maybe four.”
A laugh escaped you again, louder this time, and something about the sound made his expression soften all over again, like he was memorizing it. The realization hit hard enough to make your stomach twist. Because Steve was paying attention to everything tonight.
The kind where he noticed when your drink got low and slid his toward you automatically before you could ask. The kind where his eyes flicked toward you every time you started talking, fully focused like nobody else in the room existed while you spoke.
It made you feel strange but at the same time warm and wanted. Mixed with terrified.
A few minutes later, Marlene reappeared with your food before you could completely spiral, sliding plates onto the table while eyeing both of you suspiciously but with a smile.
You reached for a fry off his plate absentmindedly, and Steve looked down at your hand automatically before glancing back up at you with the faintest grin.
“You know you could just ask.”
“You know I’m not going to.”
“Fair.”
You talked about stupid things first. Robin threatening to fight a caller over music choices earlier that week. Eddie nearly breaking one of the station chairs because he insisted spinning in it “improved creativity.” Steve admitted he once accidentally played the wrong cassette during a late-night shift and didn’t realize for twenty whole minutes because he fell asleep.
“You fell asleep at work?”
“It was two in the morning.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I was comfortable.”
You laughed again while Steve watched you over the rim of his drink with that same look he’d been giving you all night now. Like he still couldn’t fully believe this was happening. Eventually the conversation drifted quieter again naturally.
The diner had gotten quieter without either of you noticing. The rush from earlier had faded out slowly, leaving behind the low hum of conversation and the occasional clatter of silverware somewhere near the kitchen. Neon light from the front window painted soft streaks of red and blue across the table every few seconds whenever cars passed outside. Steve still watched you like he was trying to memorize something. It should’ve made you nervous, instead it made your chest ache. You leaned back slightly against the booth cushion, turning your straw absently through melted ice while the silence stretched softer this time.
Steve tapped his fingers once against the tabletop before speaking again. “You know what I realized?”
“What?”
“You’re meaner to me now.”
Your brows lifted immediately. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious.” He pointed lazily at you. “Sophomore year you were nice to me.”
“I was never nice to you.”
“You laughed at my jokes.”
“They weren’t funny.”
“You fucking liar.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you almost immediately. He looked unfairly happy about that.
Steve reached for another fry before speaking again. “You know what else I remember?”
“Should I be worried?”
“Probably.”
You groaned softly. “Great.”
His grin softened a little around the edges this time, turning quieter. “You used to wait for me after basketball sometimes.”
Your fingers paused against your drink.
Steve looked down briefly like he was replaying it in his head. “Tommy and Carol would leave eventually and you’d still be sitting on the hood of your car pretending you weren’t waiting.”
“I was not pretending.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I just didn’t wanna go home yet.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.”
Your chest tightened painfully at how gently he said it.
Steve groaned quietly the second your expression changed. “…why do I feel like you’re about to say something terrible?”
You smiled innocently into your drink. “I was just thinking about the Jonathan fight.”
His entire face dropped immediately. “I’m taking you home.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
“No, seriously,” Steve said, already dragging a hand down his face. “Can we not revisit one of the worst moments of my life during our date?”
“You started the memory lane thing.”
“Not like this.”
You grinned over the rim of your cup. “C’mon. It was kind of iconic.”
“It was humiliating.”
“You both tackled each other an alley beside the theater.”
“Well he pissed me off.”
“No you pissed him off,” you corrected immediately.
Steve pointed at you accusingly. “See? This is what I mean. Mean.”
“You deserved it!”
“I was emotional!”
“You were insane, Steve Harrington.”
His head dropped back against the booth dramatically while you laughed harder. You remembered it vividly now, back then it wasn’t funny but now this is something everyone laughs about. Few of your friends, plus Steve on the side of the alley next to the movie theater. Steve had been once again, heartbroken over Nancy. That week he’d been a hopeless romantic, begging for her attention. He didn’t say it to her, but he would tell it to you all the time. He used to have this intense energy with Jonathan because of Nancy. Senior year he felt her slipping away, there was nothing he could do about it.
Nancy and Jonathan just made sense.
Steve was running his mouth, as usual. He was saying some things to Nancy, you had even gotten in the middle at some point but Steve kept going. Until Jonathan showed up, that’s when everything took a turn. Steve kept running his mouth to Jonathan- basically degrading him, Jonathan tried to put it past him until he couldn’t. Until Jonathan threw the first hit. Nancy yelling at both as they went back and forth, Tommy imitating the fight, Carol staying silent, you tried to stop them but they were too strong. Cops showed up eventually, Steve got away but Jonathan didn’t.
“The way you were acting about Nancy back then? Steve, I won’t lie. You absolutely deserved that one.”
Steve stared at you in betrayal. “Wow.”
“You did!”
“I thought tonight was supposed to be romantic.”
“It is romantic.” You smiled sweetly. “I’m being honest with you.”
“That’s somehow worse.”
You laughed again and Steve tried to fight his smile for maybe two full seconds before losing completely.
“Okay,” he admitted finally, leaning forward onto his elbows. “Yeah. I deserved some of it.”
“Some?”
“Most.”
“Thank you.”
He shook his head softly to himself, smiling into the table for a second before glancing back up at you again. “I was an asshole back then.”
The honesty in his voice softened your grin a little, he didn’t sound defensive.
Steve rubbed absentmindedly at the condensation on his glass. “I think I thought if I acted like I had everything figured out, nobody would notice I didn’t.”
Your chest tightened quietly at that.
“You were there for all of it too,” he added after a second, eyes flicking back toward yours. “Which honestly might be the most embarrassing part.”
You snorted softly. “Oh, please. You saw me throw a milkshake at Tammy Thompson Junior year.”
His eyes widened immediately. “Holy shit.”
“She deserved it.”
“She absolutely deserved it,” he agreed instantly. “Robin would’ve killed you if she saw that.”
You both laughed at the same time.
Steve watched you over the table quietly for a second after the laughter faded, expression softer now. “You know what’s weird?”
“What?”
“I think you knew me better than almost anybody even back then.”
The words landed somewhere deep. You knew when Steve was angry before he spoke. Knew when he was lying. Knew when his confidence was real and when it was just noise covering something else. And somehow, sitting across from him now under dim diner lights, it felt terrifying realizing maybe he’d always known you too.
By the time you finally slid out of the diner booth, the world outside had gone fully dark. Hawkins looked softer at night somehow. Neon signs glowing against wet pavement. Streetlights stretching gold across empty roads.
Steve held the door open for you automatically.
You paused beside him halfway through walking out, looking up suspiciously. “Who are you?”
He looked offended immediately. “I’ve always had manners.”
“You once opened a car door into me, remember that?”
“That happened one time.”
“You laughed.”
“It was a little funny.”
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself while Steve followed close beside you toward the parking lot. The cold air hit your cheeks immediately, waking you up a little after the warmth of the diner.
Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket beside you. “Okay,” he said casually. “Arcade next.”
You blinked at him. “There’s more?”
He looked over immediately. “You thought I was only doing dinner?”
Your chest did something stupid again. And apparently your face gave it away because Steve’s expression softened instantly.
“…yeah,” he said quieter this time. “There’s more.”
The parking lot stretched mostly empty around you, diner lights glowing behind your backs while cold night air curled around the edges of your sleeves. Steve walked slightly ahead for half a second before stopping beside the passenger side of his car. Then he reached for the handle, opening it for you.
The arcade was louder than the diner. Bright lights flashing across dark carpet, machines chiming over each other from every direction, the air smelling faintly like popcorn and old carpet and electricity. A group of middle schoolers crowded around one of the racing games near the entrance while somebody absolutely destroyed a high score in the back corner to the sound of aggressive 8-bit music.
You looked over at Steve immediately. “…this was your plan?”
Steve shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, suddenly looking weirdly nervous again. “You said once that arcades make you less angry at the world. I know you like to play games too. And last time we were here it wasn’t the best experience, so I want to make it up to you.”
Your stomach flipped hard. “I said that forever ago, aw you do pay attention.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged lightly. “Only to the things that matter.”
Steve looked slightly relieved when you smiled though, shoulders loosening a little while he walked backward toward the token counter. “C’mon. I’m about to embarrass you at skeeball.”
You laughed immediately. “Oh, absolutely not.”
Five minutes later, Steve was losing horribly.
“You are cheating,” he accused while you casually rolled another ball straight into the highest ring.
“I’m literally just better than you.”
“That’s impossible.”
“You’ve said that every round.”
“Because statistically this shouldn’t be happening.”
You grinned while another ball rolled cleanly into the center. Steve stared at the scoreboard in genuine betrayal while you nearly doubled over laughing beside him.
“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You sure?”
“Okay, second worst.”
You laughed harder at that, and Steve watched the whole thing happen with the kind of expression that made your chest hurt again. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked suspiciously.
Steve snorted softly. “You’re having fun.”
“…yeah?”
“I dunno.” His smile softened slightly. “Feels like I haven’t seen you relax in a while.”
You couldn’t remember the last time your shoulders felt this loose around somebody. The last time laughing felt effortless instead of something you forced out to keep conversations moving.
Steve leaned one elbow against the skeeball machine beside you. “Alright,” he said seriously. “Double or nothing.”
“We’re not betting on anything.”
“We should be.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What do you want if you win?”
A dangerous grin spread slowly across his face. “Undecided.”
“Oh absolutely not.”
He laughed immediately. “Okay, wow. You think very little of me.”
“You climbed through my bedroom window last week.”
“And the whole town heard my name.”
You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself while Steve grabbed another skeeball.
Standing beside him underneath flashing arcade lights while he argued with you over absolutely nothing important. Watching him laugh with his sleeves pushed up and his hair falling messily over his forehead because he kept running his hands through it. Maybe this version of you and Steve had existed underneath everything else for years just waiting for both of you to stop being idiots long enough to notice it.
Steve ended up winning the next round only because he cheated. You watched him lean suspiciously far over the line before tossing the last ball straight into the highest ring.
Your jaw dropped immediately. “OH my god.”
“That counted.”
“It absolutely did not count.”
“It went in!”
“You were practically inside the machine!”
Steve grinned triumphantly while the scoreboard flashed his final score dramatically overhead. “Sounds like somebody’s upset she lost.”
“You cheated.”
“Sore loser.”
You shoved his shoulder hard enough to make him laugh, and the sound of it got swallowed into the chaos of the arcade around you. Flashing lights bounced gold and blue across his face while he grabbed your wrist automatically before you could shove him again. Steve looked down at where his hand wrapped around your wrist before slowly lifting his eyes back toward yours. Everything around you suddenly felt far away.
Steve’s thumb brushed once lightly against your skin before he let go slowly like he almost forgot he was still touching you, your stomach flipped violently.
“Okay,” he said after a second, voice quieter now. “Prize counter.”
You blinked once. “What?”
“You beat me at skeeball first.” He gestured toward the back counter. “Means you get something.”
“You do realize these prizes are all terrible, right?”
“That’s part of the experience.”
You laughed softly while Steve guided you through the crowded arcade toward the counter anyway, one hand resting briefly against the small of your back whenever people squeezed past too close.
Every single time he touched you tonight felt deliberate. The prize counter glowed underneath cheap fluorescent lights, shelves crowded with stuffed animals, plastic jewelry, candy, fake roses, and random junk nobody actually needed.
Steve leaned against the glass counter beside you. “Pick.”
You stared at the shelves dramatically. “Wow. So many life-changing options.”
“I know. Huge moment for you.”
You pointed immediately toward a tiny stuffed shark hanging near the back wall. “That one looks over it.”
Steve snorted quietly. “That’s the one you want?”
“He’s cute.”
The employee behind the counter looked deeply uninterested while Steve counted tickets onto the counter anyway.
“You know,” Steve said casually while the guy grabbed the shark down for you, “when I pictured this date going well, I didn’t imagine I’d spend money winning you a depressed sea creature.”
“It’s not depressed,” you defended immediately, taking the shark from the employee. “He’s just tired.”
Steve stared at the stuffed animal for a second. “…yeah okay actually he does look like you.”
You gasped dramatically while Steve laughed under his breath again. You hugged the stupid shark against your chest while both of you drifted away from the counter slower now, neither really in a rush to figure out what came next. Outside the arcade windows, the night had gotten colder. Rain threatened faintly against the dark sky, clouds covering most of the stars now.
Steve glanced toward the windows briefly before looking back at you. “You wanna get outta here?”
Your stomach flipped slightly at the softness in his voice. “Yeah,” you answered quietly.
The cold hit immediately the second you stepped outside. The parking lot glowed wet underneath streetlights now, the air smelling faintly like rain and cigarette smoke drifting from somewhere down the block. Steve walked beside you slower than before, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket while you carried the stuffed shark tucked against your chest.
“You’re seriously keeping that thing?” he asked.
You looked down at the shark defensively. “His name is Bruce.”
Steve stared at you. “You named him in under thirty seconds.”
“Yeah, Bruce Springsteen duh.”
A laugh escaped him quietly under his breath, visible in the cold air now. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You bought him for me.”
“I made mistakes.”
You smiled to yourself while both of you crossed toward the car. Halfway there, rain started again.
You looked up instinctively right as Steve muttered, “Shit.”
Suddenly, his hand grabbed yours. Warm fingers wrapping quickly around your wrist before pulling you into a run toward the car.
You laughed immediately. “Steve—”
“I just cleaned this car!”
“That is the saddest thing you’ve ever said!”
Rain started falling harder now, quick cold drops against your hair and shoulders while Steve fumbled his keys dramatically beside the passenger door.
“Hurry up!”
“I’m TRYING.”
“You literally can’t even see the keyhole!”
“I’m under pressure!”
You were still laughing when he finally got the door open, both of you practically stumbling inside seconds later.
The doors slammed shut, everything went quiet again except for rain hitting the roof. Your breathing came fast from laughing, cheeks flushed warm now while water dripped slowly from strands of hair onto your shoulders.
Steve looked over at you and froze. Taking it all in.
Your stomach flipped immediately. “What?” you asked softer now.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the wet strands of hair stuck against your cheek before meeting your eyes again slower this time. “You’re really pretty,” he said quietly.
The words hit so suddenly your entire chest tightened.
Steve looked like he regretted saying it immediately after. Not because he didn’t mean it, because he meant it too much.
Steve’s fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. The rain softened the world outside the car into blurry streaks of light and color, the windshield fogging faintly at the corners while the heater hummed low underneath the silence. And still, Steve kept looking at you. Like he couldn’t stop.
Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to. “Why are you staring at me?”
A small breath left him through his nose, almost a laugh. “I dunno.” His eyes flicked down briefly before returning to yours again. “Feels like every time I look at you tonight I realize something else.”
Your chest tightened painfully. “Like what?”
Steve leaned back slightly in his seat, fingers tapping once against the steering wheel before going still again. He looked nervous all over again now, which somehow made every word feel heavier. “Like…” He hesitated. “I think I forgot how much I like being around you when we’re not making everything complicated.” Steve looked down briefly with a quiet laugh. “Which sounds bad considering we’ve spent like ninety percent of this year making each other miserable.”
“That’s not fully true.”
His brows lifted slightly. “No?”
You shook your head softly, staring down at the stuffed shark in your lap for a second before speaking quieter. “I don’t think you’ve ever actually made me miserable.”
Steve looked at you carefully now, like he wasn’t sure he heard you right.
“You drove me insane sometimes,” you admitted with the faintest smile. “But…” Your fingers tightened slightly around the shark. “Even when things got messy with us, you still always felt like…” You searched for the right word quietly. “Home, I guess.”
Your throat tightened immediately after saying it.
Steve looked wrecked by the sentence.
His head tilted back slightly against the seat like the words physically hit him too hard all at once. One hand dragged slowly across his jaw while he stared down toward the dashboard for a second.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered quietly.
Heat rushed into your face instantly. “Okay, forget I said that—”
“No.” His eyes snapped back toward yours immediately. “No, don’t do that.” Steve looked at you like he was trying very hard not to cross some invisible line sitting between both of you tonight.
“You feel like home to me too, since the first day I met you.”
Your breath caught painfully in your chest.
Neither of you moved for a long time after that. The rain kept falling steadily against the roof, soft and constant, while the inside of the car sat wrapped in warm dim light from the dashboard. Your heartbeat felt loud enough to fill the entire silence between you.
Steve still looked at you the same way. Your fingers tightened slightly around the stuffed shark in your lap before you finally let out a shaky breath. “This is getting dangerously sincere.”
A quiet laugh escaped him immediately, grateful almost. “Yeah,” he murmured, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Little bit.”
You smiled faintly toward your lap.
“You know what’s weird?” Steve asked.
“What?”
“I was terrified tonight was gonna be awkward.”
Your brows lifted slightly. “Really?”
“Mmhm.” He nodded once against the headrest. “I had like…three backup conversations planned.”
You laughed instantly. “No you didn’t.”
“I absolutely did.”
“Steve.”
“I panicked!”
The sound that escaped you this time was warmer, fuller, and Steve’s expression softened immediately hearing it.
“What were the backup conversations?” you asked.
Steve groaned dramatically. “No.”
“You brought it up.”
“Yeah, huge mistake.”
You turned toward him more fully in your seat now, smiling openly for the first time in the last few minutes. “Tell me.”
Steve sighed deeply like this was physically painful for him. “Okay. One of them was movies.”
“That’s normal.”
“One was music.”
“Still normal.”
“And one was…” He paused.
Your eyes narrowed immediately. “Steve.”
His head dropped back against the seat dramatically. “Childhood pets.”
You burst out laughing. “Bro.”
“You had emergency pet stories prepared?”
“I was trying to create conversational flow!”
Rain blurred the windows while you laughed hard enough your stomach hurt again, and Steve just sat there watching you with this helpless grin like he’d willingly embarrass himself a thousand more times if it meant hearing that sound again.
You liked him like this. Not just when things were intense. Not just when things were messy and physical and impossible to ignore. You liked this kind of him. Nervous Steve. Trying-too-hard Steve. Steve cleaning his car and rehearsing conversations and buying flowers he almost convinced himself not to bring. The realization settled quietly into your chest, this was the most honest either of you had ever been with each other.
Steve’s smile faded softer around the edges after your laughter died down. “Can I tell you something else?”
Your stomach flipped instantly. “Should I be scared?”
“Probably.”
You leaned back slightly against the seat. “Okay. Go.”
Steve looked out at the rain briefly before speaking quieter this time. “I almost cancelled tonight.”
Your breath caught. “The fuck?”
He shrugged lightly, but the movement looked tense. “Not because I didn’t want to come,” he added quickly. “I did. Obviously.” A small nervous laugh. “I just…” His fingers tapped once against the steering wheel. “I think I realized this mattered to me more than I expected it to.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
Steve kept his eyes on the rain now instead of you. “And honestly?” he admitted softer, “that scared the shit out of me.”
The honesty of it sat heavy between both of you. Because you understood it completely. You looked down toward your hands for a second before speaking quietly too. “I almost backed out getting ready.”
That pulled his eyes toward you immediately.“You did?”
You nodded once. “I changed outfits like four times.”
A smile tugged weakly at the corner of his mouth. “Four?”
“…maybe five.”
Steve laughed softly under his breath. “Jesus.”
“I know.”
“And here I thought I was losing my mind alone.”
You smiled a little. Then slowly your hand moved across the center console until your fingers brushed lightly against his. Your heart pounded so hard it almost hurt now, but you didn’t pull away. His hand turned slowly underneath yours until his fingers threaded carefully between them.
The car stayed quiet except for the rain and the low hum of the heater while your fingers stayed tangled together over the center console. Steve looked down at your joined hands for a second like he still couldn’t believe it either.
“You know what the problem is?” he asked quietly.
Your stomach tightened immediately.
“What?”
Steve leaned his head back against the seat again, eyes fixed somewhere out through the rain-streaked windshield now. “I think I liked this better when it was ruining my life in a manageable way.”
A soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Manageable?”
“Yeah.” His thumb brushed your knuckles absentmindedly again. “Before, at least I could pretend this was temporary.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
Steve’s jaw flexed slightly before he continued quieter now. “But now I’m sitting here introducing you to emotional support sharks and buying flowers and—” He let out a quiet breath through his nose. “I don’t know how to do this casually anymore.”
Your eyes dropped toward your joined hands. “Maybe we were never good at casual.”
Steve laughed softly under his breath. “No. We were terrible at it.”
You looked over immediately.
Steve stared out at the rain for a long second before speaking again. “You know what scares me?”
Your stomach flipped hard. “What?”
His eyes finally moved back toward yours slowly. “That this is the part where people ruin each other.”
Your fingers tightened unconsciously around his. Steve swallowed once, gaze dropping briefly before lifting back toward you again. “Because if this goes bad…” He shook his head slightly like he didn’t even want to finish the thought. “I don’t think I know how to lose you halfway anymore.” Steve looked almost frustrated with himself now for admitting any of this. “Sorry,” he muttered quietly. “That sounded way darker than it did in my head.”
And instead of comforting you like maybe he intended, something sharp twisted unexpectedly in your chest.
Your hand slipped slowly out of his.
Steve noticed immediately, his expression shifted. “Hey—”
“No, I just…” You looked away first, staring out at the rain streaking down the passenger window. “Why do you keep talking like this is already fucked?”
Steve blinked slightly. “What?”
“You keep saying things like if this goes bad or when we ruin each other.” Your throat tightened harder the longer you talked. “It’s like you already think we’re gonna fail before we’ve even really started.”
His face fell instantly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But it is what you said.”
Rain hit harder against the roof now, filling the space between both of you while Steve looked at you like he was trying to figure out how the conversation tilted sideways so fast.“I’m not saying I think we’ll fail,” he said carefully.
“You get scared and immediately start pulling back before anything can actually hurt you.”
Hearing him talk about losing you already suddenly made this beautiful thing between you feel fragile in a way you didn’t want to think about yet.
Steve rubbed a hand across his jaw slowly before speaking quieter. “I’m not pulling back.”
“You kinda are.”
“I’m trying to be honest with you.”
“And I’m trying to understand why you’re acting like caring about me is automatically gonna destroy us.”
That hit him hard enough you saw it physically happen. Steve looked down immediately, jaw tightening.
“Because I’ve done this before.”
Your stomach tightened. Steve laughed quietly under his breath, except there wasn’t anything happy in it. “And last time I got this serious about somebody, everything exploded.”
The realization settled painfully between both of you immediately.
Steve leaned back against the seat again, eyes fixed somewhere ahead now instead of at you. “I know this isn’t the same thing,” he said quickly. “I know you’re not her. That’s not what I mean.”
But the damage was already there a little.
You looked down at your hands in your lap. “You still thought about her, in that way.”
Rain blurred across the windshield while his expression shifted into something almost frustrated with himself. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “For like half a second.”
You nodded once like you understood, but your chest already felt tight in that dangerous way where you knew you were about to shut down emotionally if you stayed there too long.
Steve noticed immediately. “Hey,” he said softer now. “That’s not—”
“It’s okay.” You said voice careful.
“No, it’s not okay, because you’re hearing something I’m not actually trying to say.”
You looked back out the passenger window instead. Hawkins blurred past in wet streaks of neon and headlights while rain tapped steadily against the glass.
“I’m trying to figure out why this suddenly feels like I’m being graded against your last relationship.”
You saw it happen immediately in the way his jaw tightened.
“Don’t do that.”
“So now I can’t do that?..,” you admitted quietly. “It’s what it feels like.”
The rest of the drive home felt wrong after that. The kind where both people still cared too much to fully pull away but neither knew how to fix the damage without making it bigger.
Steve still opened doors for you when he parked outside your house. Still walked you to the porch through the rain. Still kept his jacket around your shoulders even though he was getting soaked himself.
The porch light cast warm gold across the wet driveway while both of you stood there awkwardly for a second too long. Your flowers rested carefully in one hand.
The stuffed shark tucked against your chest.
Steve looked exhausted suddenly. Rainwater dripped slowly from the ends of his hair while he searched your face like he was trying to figure out what version of this night he was leaving you with now.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quietly.
Your throat tightened. “I know.”
But truth is, you didn’t know.
He looked like he wanted to say something else. Like he was standing right on the edge of it. But then your porch light flickered once overhead and reality settled back in around both of you again.
You stepped backward first. “I should go inside.”
Steve nodded immediately even though disappointment flashed across his face so quickly it almost hurt to see. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Okay.”
Your heartbeat pounded painfully against your ribs. Steve just looked at you for one long second. “Goodnight.”
You forced a small smile anyway. “Goodnight.”
Then you turned before he could see your face properly and slipped inside the house. The second the door shut behind you, you leaned back against it hard. Your house slept quietly around you while rain hit the windows outside.
And suddenly the entire night replayed all at once in your head. The flowers, his hand holding yours in the car, the way he looked at you all night, the shark, the nervousness, the confession.
last time I got this serious about somebody, everything exploded.
Your eyes burned unexpectedly. “Cool,” you whispered bitterly to yourself.
You pushed yourself off the door slowly and headed upstairs as quietly as possible, Steve’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders. Your room looked exactly the same as it always did. You set the flowers carefully on your desk. Set the stuffed shark beside your vanity chair. Then just stood there for a second staring at both of them.
You could survive losing hookups-Steve.
You could survive losing messy almost-Steve.
But this version?
The version that remembered your favorite flowers from high school? The version that looked nervous before seeing you? The version that held your hand like it mattered?
That one would destroy you.
You sat slowly on the edge of your bed, Steve’s jacket still warm from his body.
And for the first time all night, the thought hit you clearly. Maybe this only worked when neither of you cared this much.
You rubbed tiredly at your face before standing again, moving toward your vanity just to do something with your hands. You pulled your earrings off slowly, dropping them beside scattered makeup products and hair clips. Your reflection looked strange somehow.
A branch scraped lightly against the outside of your window. Then it happened again, your brows pulled together immediately.
You turned slowly toward the window just as another soft thud sounded outside. “What the fuck—”
You stepped closer carefully, pulling the curtain aside, and nearly screamed. Steve was halfway climbing through your window looking absolutely miserable. Rain soaked through his hair and shirt completely now. One sneaker balanced dangerously against the edge of the roof outside while one hand gripped the window frame like he’d been reconsidering this decision the entire climb up. The second your eyes met his, he froze too.
“…hi,” Steve said breathlessly.
You stared at him in complete disbelief. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he answered immediately.
Which somehow sounded honest enough that your anger cracked for half a second.
Steve climbed the rest of the way inside awkwardly, nearly knocking into your desk in the process before catching himself at the last second. Rainwater dripped onto your floorboards while he pushed wet hair back out of his face, breathing harder than he should’ve been.
“You climbed my window?”
“I couldn’t leave you like that.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
Steve looked wrecked now that he was standing fully in front of you again. Nervous in a way you hadn’t seen from him in years. His hands flexed once uselessly at his sides before he finally shook his head hard like he was frustrated with himself.
“I screwed that up.”
You crossed your arms tighter around yourself immediately. “Steve—”
“No, I’m talking.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Steve took one step closer carefully. “I am so serious about you,” he said quietly. “Like…scarily serious.”
Your throat tightened instantly.
“And I know I sounded like I was waiting for this to fail, but that’s not what this is.” His jaw flexed once. “I got scared because this matters to me now. That’s the difference.”
Rain hit softly against the roof outside while you stood frozen in front of him.
Steve laughed quietly under his breath, nervous and messy. “Do you know how long it’s been since I wanted something real with someone?”
You didn’t answer.
His eyes stayed fixed on yours anyway.“Because honestly? I got used to not giving a fuck.” His voice lowered softer now. “It was easier.”
Your chest ached.
“But then this happened,” he admitted.
Steve swallowed hard before continuing quieter now. “And now I’m sitting in my car thinking about how we’ve grown up together and how I want to continue growing with you and whether you feel the same way and this has just been building up for soo fucking long and I just, I just can’t—”
A breathless laugh escaped you before you could stop it, Steve looked relieved hearing it.
“See?” he said softly. “That. That’s what I’m talking about.”
Your eyes burned unexpectedly. Steve took another careful step closer. “I’m not scared because I think you’ll hurt me,” he admitted quietly. “I’m scared because you actually could.”
Because it was the first completely honest thing either of you said all night. You looked down briefly, overwhelmed suddenly by the weight of all of this. “Stop talking like you’re waiting for me to leave.”
Steve went still, like the sentence physically hit him. His expression changed instantly after that.
“Oh,” he whispered softly. Rain filled the silence between both of you while Steve looked down briefly, rubbing a hand hard across the back of his neck. “Jesus,” he muttered quietly to himself. “Okay. Yeah. I hear it now.”
Your arms loosened slowly around yourself.
Steve looked back up at you again, eyes softer now. “I’m not waiting for you to leave.”His voice came out low. “I think I’m actually doing the opposite.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
He stepped closer again, slower this time like he was afraid of pushing too hard. “I think I’m trying so hard not to lose this that I started talking like it’s already gone.” A frustrated breath left him. “Which is stupid.”
You looked down at the floorboards quietly. “It just felt like maybe you were realizing this was a mistake.”
Steve’s face fell immediately. “What?” he said softly. “No.”
You shrugged lightly even though the movement hurt. “You brought up Nancy. You brought up everything exploding. You looked terrified the entire drive home.”
“Because I am terrified.”
Your eyes lifted back toward him.
Steve laughed once quietly under his breath. “You know what the problem is?” he asked.
“What?”
“You matter too much now.”
The room went still.
Steve looked almost helpless standing there soaked from rainwater in the middle of your bedroom. “And I know that’s not romantic,” he continued softly. “I know it’s messy and probably unfair to say, but I haven’t felt like this in a really long time.” His eyes searched yours carefully. “Not like this.”
Your throat tightened hard enough it hurt.
Steve glanced toward the flowers on your desk briefly before speaking again quieter now. “Do you know how long I stood in that flower shop trying to decide if bringing those was too much?”
A tiny breath escaped you despite yourself.
“Like genuinely,” he said, shaking his head once. “The guy working there thought I was insane.”
You laughed weakly through the ache in your chest.
Steve smiled a little seeing it.
Then softer:
“I remembered your favorite flowers from sophomore year.”
God.
Your eyes burned instantly again.
“Your prom date brought you those awful yellow carnations and you smiled anyway because you didn’t wanna be mean,” Steve said quietly. “But afterward you told me they looked like funeral flowers.”
A startled laugh broke out of you through the emotion.
“I hated those flowers,” you admitted.
“I know.”
“You remembered that?”
Steve looked at you like the answer should’ve been obvious. “I remember everything about you.”
Silence.
Real silence this time.
The kind that changes something.
Your chest hurt so badly now you almost didn’t know what to do with it.
Steve stepped fully into your space then, careful and slow, his hand lifting hesitantly toward your face like he was still giving you room to stop him if you wanted.
You didn’t.
His fingers brushed softly against your cheek.
Warm despite the rain.
“I’m not scared because I think this is temporary,” he said quietly. “I’m scared because I don’t think it is.”
Steve’s forehead rested lightly against yours then, both of you breathing unevenly in the dim light of your bedroom while rain tapped softly against the windows outside.
“I don’t wanna do this halfway with you anymore,” he whispered.
Your fingers tightened weakly in the front of his damp shirt. “Steve…”
He looked wrecked already, like he knew what was coming before you even said it.
“You scared me tonight.” you said quietly.
Steve closed his eyes briefly like he physically felt it. “I know.”
“I think about everything when I care about someone,” he admitted quietly. “That’s the problem.”
Your eyes dropped immediately because suddenly everything hurt too much all at once.
“I’m trying really hard not to fall in love with you alone here, Steve.”
Your chest tightened immediately afterward because you hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Maybe you had, but it just needed to finally break open.
Steve stepped toward you slowly. “Hey,” he said softly.
You shook your head once, looking away immediately because your eyes were burning now and you absolutely refused to cry in front of him over this.
Steve’s hand found your face gently before you could pull too far into yourself. “Look at me.”
“Do you really think you’re alone in this?” he asked quietly.
Your throat tightened.
Steve laughed once under his breath, but it sounded shaky now. “Jesus Christ.”
His thumb brushed carefully beneath your eye before continuing softer, “I climbed through your window in the rain because I thought I ruined this.”
“I sat in my car outside your house for ten minutes trying to convince myself not to come up here because I thought maybe you realized I wasn’t worth the risk.” His jaw tightened slightly. “And the whole time you were upstairs thinking the exact same thing about yourself.”
Steve’s forehead rested against yours again, his breathing uneven now too. “I am so in love with you it’s actually making me stupid,” he whispered.
Your eyes shut immediately. A shaky breath left you before your hands grabbed the front of his shirt harder, pulling him toward you like if you didn’t touch him right now you might fall apart completely. You could feel it in the way his hands trembled slightly where they rested against your waist. The way his breathing caught unevenly every time your noses brushed.
Steve’s forehead stayed pressed lightly against yours while his thumb dragged slowly against your side underneath the jacket still hanging from your shoulders. His eyes stayed half-lidded now, fixed on your mouth for a second before lifting back to your eyes again like he was trying to give you time.
Your throat tightened painfully before you whispered, “You make me stupid.”
Steve’s expression cracked immediately.
Something helpless softened across his face so fast it almost hurt to look at.
You swallowed hard, fingers twisting tighter in his shirt. “I think about you constantly,” you admitted shakily. “Like constantly. At home. When I wake up. When songs come on the radio.” Your voice broke slightly on the next part. “And I keep trying to convince myself it’s temporary because temporary feels safer but—” Your breath caught.
Steve looked at you like he was hanging onto every word.
“But I think if this ended now,” you whispered, eyes burning again, “it would actually break my heart.”
Steve inhaled sharply through his nose like the sentence physically knocked the air out of him. Your chest hurt so badly now you almost regretted saying any of it out loud because suddenly everything was real in a way you couldn’t take back anymore.
“I think,” you continued quietly, voice trembling now despite yourself, “I’ve been in love with you longer than I realized, Steve.”
Steve’s eyes shut immediately, like hearing you say that hurt him in the way it hurt you. Maybe even slightly more. A soft, wrecked sound left him under his breath before his hands slid carefully up your arms, like he needed to hold onto you properly now or he might lose his balance.
“Fuck,” he whispered again, almost to himself this time.
Your laugh came out watery and weak. “Yeah.”
Steve opened his eyes again slowly. The way he looked at you after that was almost unbearable. His hand moved carefully to your face, fingers brushing softly beneath your jaw while he stared at you like he was trying to memorize this exact version of you forever.
“You have no idea,” he whispered shakily, “how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
Steve looked at you for another second like he was trying to survive this moment without falling apart inside it. You could see it all over him. In the way his breathing had gone uneven. In the way his thumb kept brushing absentmindedly against your cheek like he needed the reminder that you were actually here. In the way his eyes kept dropping to your mouth before forcing themselves back up to yours again. Like kissing you was taking every ounce of restraint he had left. Steve’s forehead stayed against yours for a second longer before he slowly pulled back just enough to look at you again. Because the second he saw the way you were looking back at him. Something in his expression cracked completely and you could feel it.
His hand slid from your jaw to the side of your neck carefully. “Do you believe me?,” he whispered.
You swallowed thickly before nodding once. “I do.”
You felt the slightest brush of his nose against yours. The trembling exhale he let out at the exact same moment your fingers curled tighter into the front of his shirt. His hand tightened at your waist instantly. “Fuck,” he whispered again, completely overwhelmed by you.
Finally, his lips gently touched yours. Like he’d imagined this too many times and was terrified of getting it wrong. Your eyes shut immediately as you kissed him back, and the second you did, Steve made this quiet sound into your mouth like he couldn’t believe you were kissing him back just as desperately.
The kiss deepened suddenly. His hand slid into your hair while the other pulled you closer by your waist until your body pressed fully against his, and every bit of restraint he’d been clinging to started slipping all at once.
Steve kissed like he was starving for you.
Messy and emotional and consuming in the way only he could be, like he kept forgetting how to breathe every time your lips moved against his. His fingers tangled tighter in your hair when you kissed him deeper, and the soft groan that left him went straight through you.
“mmm,” he breathed against your mouth before kissing you again immediately.
Your hands slid up into his hair instinctively, Steve head tipped back slightly for half a second before he pulled you back into him harder. When you finally pulled away just enough to breathe, Steve followed automatically, lips brushing yours again like he already couldn’t stand the distance.
“I don’t just wanna kiss you and pretend this is nothing tomorrow.” His fingers tightened carefully at your waist. “I don’t wanna keep almost having you.”
The vulnerability in his voice nearly wrecked you all over again. You stared at him for a second before your hand moved to his face carefully, thumb brushing against his cheek. “I know,” you whispered.
Steve leaned into your touch instinctively.
Before you could lose the nerve, you softly confessed, “I want to do this with you.”
“Like… really do this.” Your voice trembled slightly despite yourself. “The messy parts. The scary parts. All of it.” You swallowed thickly. “I want us to actually build something together, Steve.”
The look on his face after that was almost unbearable, like nobody had ever offered him something he wanted this badly before. Somewhere outside, rain continued against the windows of your room while Steve held you like he finally found something worth staying for.
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the confession you've all been waiting for.. aweee
taglist- comment 2 be added!
@drmscomet @stoneyggirl2 @lauraashley93 @solynoche @purplerainx1 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @iwrotethissky @ur-djoking @sadiea20 @strangegirl26sff @loonylups @djotimestyles @torirachel @fantasyreader130 @swirledyouintoallmypoems @starryymeg @djolover4ever @literal-tv-menace @eller41 @tankajahari09 @annievolume6 @skkeletonns @marianm25 @projections-mortal @sandrapazos22 @katiebby04 @djopuppy @averylovesbookss @mandoskenobi @fictionallovee @kissalready @tennisgirlsrooms @purrsonline @beedew @loriepov @ilikereadinghardcoresmut @ilovest3veh4rr1ngt0n
it took me probably 10 hours total to write this pls i had the biggest block😭😭 listened to lover and ttpd by taylor swift and made shit happen!!
Temporary Fix | Steve Harrington
Chapter Sixteen - Every Version Of You
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
warnings: emotional vulnerability, relationship anxiety, fear of abandonment, miscommunication, references to steve’s past relationship with nancy, insecurity/self-sabotaging thoughts, mutual pining, awkward first-date nerves, intense kissing/making out, mentions of sex, steve climbing through the window soaking wet (EXACTLY) , crying/almost crying, emotional confessions, two idiots painfully in love trying to communicate properly for once
word count: 11k words
series masterlist
summary: you and steve were friends first, and that was the part that mattered. everything else, the late nights, the quiet routine, the way he kept showing up, didn't mean anything. it was easy. something the two of you fell into without really thinking about it. something that didn't need to be explained. because as long as it stayed like this, nothing had to change. right?
an: pls this chapter is definitely a roller coaster but it felt so right writing it. im sososoos happy with it and i hope you are too. it's been taking me longer to update due to being so busy with my personal life + wanting these chapters to have more emotion in them.
but sadly, temporary fix is coming to an end soon. i'll bawl. thank you for all the love and support you've given this series bc it means soo fucking much to me. i started writing a keys mckey fic, "conflict resolution" if you're interested in reading!! im soooo happy to start working a lot on that.
reblogs are appreciated <3
🎧
friday i’m in love - the cure
mystery of love - sufjan stevens
every breath you take - the police
pictures of you - the cure
iris - goo goo dolls
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By five-thirty, your bedroom looked like a small disaster. Three shirts abandoned across the end of the bed, jeans half inside out on the floor, one earring missing somewhere near your vanity. You stood in front of the mirror with your arms crossed, staring at yourself like maybe if you looked long enough you’d suddenly stop caring. And it was deeply irritating that you did care that much.
Outside your window, Hawkins was slipping slowly into evening in it’s familiar tone. The sky dimming softer blue by the minute, cicadas buzzing faintly through the cracked window above your desk. Your room smelled faintly like perfume and hairspray now from how long you’d spent getting ready without technically admitting that’s what you were doing.
You adjusted your necklace once more, then immediately frowned at yourself in the mirror. “This is stupid,” you muttered quietly.
Because it was stupid, it was just one date. One date with Steve Harrington who you’d already kissed approximately a thousand times by now. Steve Harrington who’d been in your bed and underneath you and against you on half the furniture in Hawkins at this point.
“You know,” Robin said casually, “at some point this stops being getting ready and starts becoming a psychological episode.”
You narrowed your eyes at her through the mirror. “You’re deeply unsupportive.”
“I came over here voluntarily.”
“You invited yourself.”
“Still counts.”
You sighed dramatically before turning sideways toward the mirror again, adjusting your shirt for absolutely no reason. Your room smelled faintly like hairspray and perfume now, the evening air drifting softly through the cracked window above your bed. Outside, Hawkins was slipping slowly into sunset, blue light stretching across the walls of your room while music played quietly from the radio near your vanity.
Robin watched you for a second longer before grinning slightly. “You care what he thinks.”
Your head snapped toward her immediately. “No I don’t.”
“You literally changed shirts four times.”
“Three.”
Robin pointed at you triumphantly. “You knew the number immediately.”
You groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it at her. She caught it easily, laughing.
“It’s one date,” you muttered, turning back toward the mirror again.
Which was technically true, it is just one date. One date with Steve Harrington who you’d already kissed approximately a thousand times by now. Steve Harrington who’d been in your bed and underneath you and against you on half the furniture in Hawkins at this point.
And for some reason, that felt way scarier than having him between your thighs on a couch ever did.
“You are deeply annoying,” you informed her flatly.
“And you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You rummaged your room to find the earrings Harrington gave you last year for your birthday.”
“Well, the other silver ones looked weird.”
Robin grinned triumphantly before tossing the pillow back toward you. “Honestly? It’s kinda cute.”
You groaned loudly, falling backward onto the edge of the bed. “I hate this.”
“No you don’t.”
Unfortunately, she was right. Robin softened slightly after a second, leaning back against your dresser now. “He’s been weird all week, by the way.”
You looked up immediately despite yourself. “What kind of weird?”
“Steve weird.” She shrugged lightly. “Quiet, distracted. Keeps checking the clock every five seconds.” A pause. “Yesterday he rewound the same tape three times because he forgot he already did it.”
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, you could picture steve doing exactly what she said.
Robin smiled faintly at the sound. “He’s nervous.”
Your chest tightened unexpectedly at her words. Steve didn’t really get nervous anymore, or at least it wasn’t visible to you. Not like how he was in high school. Not like how he was when he was with Nancy. And somehow the fact that he was nervous now made this feel even more real.
Before you could say anything else, Robin’s eyes suddenly flicked toward your bedroom window. “…oh shit,” she said slowly.
Your stomach dropped instantly. “What?”
Instead of answering, Robin slowly pointed toward the window. You turned so fast you almost knocked your soda over. Steve’s BMW sat parked outside your house headlights reflecting on the evening fog, slightly crooked against the curb like he’d pulled in too quickly. Your breath caught immediately. “He’s early,” you whispered.
Robin looked toward the clock on your nightstand. “By eighteen minutes,” she said. “Which for Steve Harrington is basically a cry for help.”
You ignored her, stepping closer to the window before stopping just short of it. Steve was still sitting inside the car. One hand tapped nervously against the steering wheel while the other held something low in his lap.
Flowers.
Your chest tightened instantly.
“Oh my god,” Robin whispered dramatically behind you. “He brought flowers.”
“Shut up.”
“No, this is serious.”
You glanced back toward her quickly. “Do I look okay?”
Robin blinked once like she couldn’t believe you just asked that. “You’ve asked me that seven times.”
“Well answer it again.”
“You look hot, relax.”
You exhaled shakily before turning back toward the window again. Steve still hadn’t gotten out yet. From here, you could barely make out his face through the windshield, but you could see him moving slightly, head tilted downward like he was talking to himself.
Robin narrowed her eyes. “…is he rehearsing?”
Your stomach flipped violently. “He is not.”
“He absolutely is.”
You watched Steve drag a hand through his hair once before glancing toward your house then immediately away again. Causing your chest to physically ache.
Robin suddenly grabbed both your shoulders. “Okay. Important question.”
“What?”
“Do you want him seeing me here?”
Your eyes widened immediately. “Oh my god, no.”
“Right. Exactly.”
You both stared at each other for half a second before Robin moved instantly.
“Closet,” you hissed.
“My life story, no. .”
“Girl…then under the bed!”
“That’s worse!”
The doorbell rang downstairs, both of you froze.
“Oh my god,” you whisper-yelled.
Robin pointed at you immediately. “GO.”
“You go!”
“IT’S YOUR DATE.”
The doorbell rang again.
You grabbed Robin by the wrist and dragged her toward your bedroom door anyway while both of you tried not to laugh too loudly.
“Hurry up,” you whispered frantically.
Robin slipped out into the hallway before turning back once more. “If he cries over you tonight, I need details later.”
“Robin.”
“I’m serious.”
You shoved her lightly toward the stairs. She laughed under her breath and disappeared down the hallway just as another knock echoed faintly downstairs.
Your pulse was everywhere now, you glanced at yourself in the mirror one last time. Then immediately regretted looking because now you noticed everything wrong again. Your hair suddenly messy, your necklace sitting crooked, your hands shaking slightly when you fixed it.
Another knock downstairs.
You inhaled deeply then headed for the front door.
By the time you reached the hallway, you could hear your parents somewhere faintly in the kitchen, television murmuring softly from the living room. Which somehow made this feel even scarier.
You opened the front door carefully and immediately forgot how breathing worked for a second.
Steve stood there holding a slightly uneven bouquet of flowers in one hand, the paper wrapping crinkled from how tightly he’d probably been gripping it in the car. A few stems sat crooked. One flower bent slightly sideways near the middle.
Hair fixed but slightly messy already like he’d run his hands through it too much. Dark jacket over a polo, jacket sleeves pushed up a little bit. His eyes found yours instantly, and whatever sentence he’d clearly rehearsed disappeared completely from his face.
For a second, neither of you spoke. Then Steve looked down at the flowers like he almost forgot he was holding them. “…hi,” he said softly.
Your heart nearly stopped. “Hi.”
He held the flowers out toward you carefully. “These are for you.”
You took them slowly, fingers brushing his for half a second. Your stomach flipped all over again.
Because they were your favorite flowers.
Tulips.
Your eyes lifted back to his immediately. “…how did you know?”
Steve blinked once like the question surprised him. “You told me once.”
“I did?”
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Junior year prom.”
You stared at him in confusion.
Steve shrugged lightly, suddenly looking embarrassed now that he’d said it out loud. “Your date brought lilies,” he explained quietly. “You spent like twenty minutes complaining to Robin quietly because you said they smelled like funeral homes.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.“Oh my god.”
“You were very passionate about it.”
“You remembered that?”
Steve’s expression softened immediately.“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I remembered.”
Something shifted in Steve’s face when you laughed, the sound of it settled something nervous inside him. His shoulders loosened slightly, tension easing out of him little by little while you looked back down at the flowers in your hands again. Up close, they looked even less perfect. One stem shorter than the others. Paper crinkled unevenly around the bouquet. Like he’d fixed and refixed them a hundred times before knocking on your door.
You smiled despite yourself. “They’re really pretty,” you said softly.
Steve looked relieved enough that it almost made your chest hurt. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For half a second he just stood there looking at you again, and suddenly the porch felt smaller than it should’ve. The warm porch light catching against the gold in his hair, the fading sunset stretching soft blue behind him. Somewhere down the street, somebody’s dog barked once before everything settled quiet again.
Steve cleared his throat lightly. “Okay good,” he muttered. “Cause I almost didn’t buy them.”
Your brows lifted immediately. “What?”
“I bought them.” He pointed vaguely toward the flowers. “Then thought maybe flowers were too much, so I left the store.” A pause. “Then I went back.”
A laugh slipped out of you again.
Steve smiled crookedly at the sound, shaking his head once like he already regretted admitting any of this. “I’m bombing this already, huh?”
“No,” you said immediately. And maybe you answered too fast because Steve looked at you for half a second longer after that. “No,” you repeated quieter this time, smiling a little. “You’re doing good.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the bouquet while your heartbeat continued absolutely humiliating you.
Steve glanced past you briefly toward the inside of the house before looking back at you again. “You ready?”
You nodded automatically. “Yeah.”
Then neither of you moved, your eyes met again. The air felt strange all over again. Heavy in that nervous almost-intimate way where both people are hyperaware of each other standing too close.
Steve shifted slightly on the porch, hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket before immediately back out again like he couldn’t decide what to do with himself. “You look really nice, by the way,” he said quietly.
Your stomach flipped violently. “You already saw me this morning.”
“Yeah,” he said easily. “You still look nice.”
You looked down immediately because suddenly maintaining eye contact felt impossible. Steve smiled a little to himself at that.
Then, finally, he stepped back from the doorway slightly and gestured toward the driveway. “C’mon.”
You followed him down the porch steps carefully, still clutching the flowers against your chest while the cool evening air curled around both of you. Steve moved slightly ahead at first before slowing automatically so you walked beside him instead. The closer you got to the BMW, the more evidence there was of Steve Harrington having a complete internal breakdown before arriving.
A gas station receipt crumpled near the windshield, three packs of gum in the passenger seat, what looked suspiciously like another shirt thrown in the back.
You stared, Steve noticed immediately. “…don’t look at that.”
A grin pulled at your mouth instantly. “Did you bring emergency backup clothes?”
“No.”
“Steve.”
“Maybe.”
You laughed quietly under your breath while he opened the passenger door for you before you could tease him any harder. That almost got you more than the flowers did. Because Steve always used to act effortless. But this was straight up effort. The kind that mattered because he cared whether tonight went well.
The drive started awkwardly, how usual first dates go. It was mostly you being aware. Aware of him, aware of yourself, aware of every tiny movement in the car.
Steve kept one hand on the steering wheel while the other tapped lightly against his thigh to the beat of whatever song played low through the speakers. Something older and soft enough to settle underneath the sound of the engine. The inside of the car smelled faintly like his cologne, peppermint gum, and the flowers sitting carefully across your lap.
You caught him glancing at you twice in the first five minutes. Both times he looked away immediately after, which only made it worse.
“You bought too much gum,” you said finally, eyeing the ridiculous amount shoved near the cupholders.
Steve groaned instantly. “Oh my god.”
“There’s literally enough here for a small classroom.”
“I got nervous.”
“You panic-purchased gum?”
“Yes.”
You laughed softly, turning toward him slightly in your seat. “That’s weirdly endearing.”
Steve glanced at you briefly before looking back at the road. “Please never say the word endearing to me again.”
“Why?”
“Feels humiliating somehow.”
Your smile widened. Outside the windows, Hawkins blurred slowly past in soft evening colors. Streetlights beginning to flicker on one by one. Storefronts glowing warm against the darkening sky. Steve drove slower than usual tonight. Not because he had to, he didn’t seem in a hurry for any of this to end.
Your fingers brushed absentmindedly across one of the flower petals resting against your lap. “So where are we actually going?”
Steve’s mouth pulled slightly at one corner. “It’s a surprise.”
You stared at him. “You planned things?”
“That sounded way meaner than you intended.”
“No, I’m genuinely shocked.”
He laughed quietly under his breath, shaking his head once. “Wow. Good to know your expectations for me are insanely low.”
“I didn’t say low.”
“You implied low.”
“You heard low.”
“Because it was low.”
You laughed again and Steve glanced over instinctively at the sound, smiling without even realizing it this time. The nervousness and carefulness softened. Like both of you were slowly remembering how easy this could feel when you stopped overthinking every second of it.
The rest of the drive felt easier after that. Not because the nerves disappeared completely, but because neither of you were pretending they weren’t there anymore.
Steve reached over at a red light and turned the music up slightly. You recognized the song immediately, soft guitar filling the car low enough that it blended into the hum of the engine.
“You like this one?” you asked.
Steve glanced over briefly. “You do.”
Your brows lifted. “That wasn’t the question.”
A faint grin tugged at his mouth. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I do.”
You looked at him for half a second longer than necessary before turning back toward the window again, trying unsuccessfully to hide your smile.
Steve slowed the car carefully before pulling into a small diner parking lot near the edge of downtown.
You looked over immediately. “Wait.”
His expression shifted instantly into concern. “What?”
“You brought me here?”
“…yeah?”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Steve, we practically lived here junior year.”
Relief crossed his face immediately. “Okay good. For a second I thought you hated it.”
“No, I love it, you know I do.”
“Jesus, you scared me.” He exhaled dramatically.
You laughed again while Steve parked crookedly near the front windows.
Inside the diner, everything glowed warm gold beneath hanging lights and old neon beer signs. The air smelled like fries, syrup, and coffee that had probably been sitting too long on the burners. A few people sat scattered through booths near the windows while an old rock song hummed softly through the overhead speakers.
The waitress near the front visibly lit up when Steve walked in. “Well, look who decided to come say hi,” she said immediately.
Steve laughed under his breath. “Hi, Marlene.”
Her eyes moved toward you instantly before narrowing knowingly. “Ohhh.”
Heat climbed into your face immediately.
Steve sighed. “Don’t.”
Marlene ignored him completely. “You’re the girl from—”
“Marlene.”
“Right. Okay.” She grinned shamelessly before grabbing menus anyway. “Booth or table?”
“Booth,” Steve answered automatically.
The booth at the back near the windows was somehow exactly the same as it always used to be. Same cracked red vinyl seats, same initials carved messily into the tabletop, same view of the parking lot through slightly fogged glass. Steve slid into the seat across from you while you carefully rested the flowers beside you near the window.
His eyes flicked toward them immediately, you noticed. “What?” you asked.
“Nothin’.”
“You keep looking at them.”
A faint pink crept up the back of his neck instantly. “Just making sure you actually like them.”
Your expression softened immediately. “I do,” you said quietly.
Steve looked down toward the menu after that like maybe eye contact suddenly became dangerous. You smiled a little to yourself before opening your own menu. A comfortable silence settled between you for the first time all night.
Then Steve glanced back up suddenly. “You know what’s weird?”
“What?”
“I used to think you hated me.”
You blinked once. “What?”
“In middle school,” he clarified quickly, smiling faintly now. “You were terrifying.”
A laugh burst out of you immediately. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“You used to throw basketballs at people for fun.”
“Okay, first of all, that happened one time.”
“Steve.”
“Maybe twice.”
You laughed harder now, and Steve’s expression softened immediately at the sound again.
“No, seriously,” he continued, leaning back slightly into the booth now. “You never talked to me unless it was to insult me.”
“I did not insult you.”
“You called me a douchebag in seventh grade.”
“Because you were being a douchebag in seventh grade, still can be one by the way.”
“That’s fair,” he admitted instantly.
Your smile lingered while you watched him across the table.
This version of Steve still surprised you sometimes.
Not the loud version, not the flirt, not the guy everybody in Hawkins thought they knew.
This quieter version.
The one who remembered flowers from sophomore year, the one who got nervous,
the one who looked at you like he still couldn’t believe you were here with him now.
Marlene came back before either of you could say anything else, setting two waters down onto the table with the kind of grin that meant she was absolutely listening. “You kids ready?”
Steve didn’t even look at the menu anymore. “Burger. Fries. Coke.”
“You still ordering like a twelve-year-old?”
“Consistency builds character.”
Marlene looked toward you. You ordered after him, and Steve interrupted halfway through.
“She hates pickles.”
Your eyes snapped toward him immediately.
Steve froze slightly. “…sorry. That was annoying.”
“No,” you said before you could stop yourself. “You just remember weird things.”
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.”
Marlene looked between both of you once before muttering, “Jesus Christ,” under her breath and walking away.
The second she disappeared, you laughed quietly into your drink.
Steve groaned immediately. “We are never coming back here again.”
“Yes we are.”
“She’s gonna tell everybody.”
“She already knows everybody.”
“Exactly my point.”
You smiled into your straw while Steve shook his head, still embarrassed. Outside the diner windows, headlights slid slowly across the parking lot. Somewhere near the kitchen, somebody dropped a plate and cursed loudly enough to make both of you glance over automatically.
And then Steve laughed. Not the practiced charming laugh he used around people. The softer, caught off guard laugh he has.
Your chest tightened instantly.
“What?” he asked when he noticed you staring again.
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The looking at me thing.”
Heat rushed into your face immediately. “I’m literally just sitting here.”
“Yeah,” he said easily. “And staring at me.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away completely.
Steve leaned back slightly against the booth, looking weirdly pleased with himself now. “You know what’s nice?”
“What?”
“You’re meaner when you’re nervous.”
Your jaw dropped. “I am not nervous.”
“You threatened my life three times in the car.”
“That was playful.”
“You called me pathetic over gum.”
“You bought four packs.”
“Three,” he corrected automatically.
You stared at him.
Steve sighed. “…okay maybe four.”
A laugh escaped you again, louder this time, and something about the sound made his expression soften all over again, like he was memorizing it. The realization hit hard enough to make your stomach twist. Because Steve was paying attention to everything tonight.
The kind where he noticed when your drink got low and slid his toward you automatically before you could ask. The kind where his eyes flicked toward you every time you started talking, fully focused like nobody else in the room existed while you spoke.
It made you feel strange but at the same time warm and wanted. Mixed with terrified.
A few minutes later, Marlene reappeared with your food before you could completely spiral, sliding plates onto the table while eyeing both of you suspiciously but with a smile.
You reached for a fry off his plate absentmindedly, and Steve looked down at your hand automatically before glancing back up at you with the faintest grin.
“You know you could just ask.”
“You know I’m not going to.”
“Fair.”
You talked about stupid things first. Robin threatening to fight a caller over music choices earlier that week. Eddie nearly breaking one of the station chairs because he insisted spinning in it “improved creativity.” Steve admitted he once accidentally played the wrong cassette during a late-night shift and didn’t realize for twenty whole minutes because he fell asleep.
“You fell asleep at work?”
“It was two in the morning.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I was comfortable.”
You laughed again while Steve watched you over the rim of his drink with that same look he’d been giving you all night now. Like he still couldn’t fully believe this was happening. Eventually the conversation drifted quieter again naturally.
The diner had gotten quieter without either of you noticing. The rush from earlier had faded out slowly, leaving behind the low hum of conversation and the occasional clatter of silverware somewhere near the kitchen. Neon light from the front window painted soft streaks of red and blue across the table every few seconds whenever cars passed outside. Steve still watched you like he was trying to memorize something. It should’ve made you nervous, instead it made your chest ache. You leaned back slightly against the booth cushion, turning your straw absently through melted ice while the silence stretched softer this time.
Steve tapped his fingers once against the tabletop before speaking again. “You know what I realized?”
“What?”
“You’re meaner to me now.”
Your brows lifted immediately. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious.” He pointed lazily at you. “Sophomore year you were nice to me.”
“I was never nice to you.”
“You laughed at my jokes.”
“They weren’t funny.”
“You fucking liar.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you almost immediately. He looked unfairly happy about that.
Steve reached for another fry before speaking again. “You know what else I remember?”
“Should I be worried?”
“Probably.”
You groaned softly. “Great.”
His grin softened a little around the edges this time, turning quieter. “You used to wait for me after basketball sometimes.”
Your fingers paused against your drink.
Steve looked down briefly like he was replaying it in his head. “Tommy and Carol would leave eventually and you’d still be sitting on the hood of your car pretending you weren’t waiting.”
“I was not pretending.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I just didn’t wanna go home yet.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.”
Your chest tightened painfully at how gently he said it.
Steve groaned quietly the second your expression changed. “…why do I feel like you’re about to say something terrible?”
You smiled innocently into your drink. “I was just thinking about the Jonathan fight.”
His entire face dropped immediately. “I’m taking you home.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
“No, seriously,” Steve said, already dragging a hand down his face. “Can we not revisit one of the worst moments of my life during our date?”
“You started the memory lane thing.”
“Not like this.”
You grinned over the rim of your cup. “C’mon. It was kind of iconic.”
“It was humiliating.”
“You both tackled each other an alley beside the theater.”
“Well he pissed me off.”
“No you pissed him off,” you corrected immediately.
Steve pointed at you accusingly. “See? This is what I mean. Mean.”
“You deserved it!”
“I was emotional!”
“You were insane, Steve Harrington.”
His head dropped back against the booth dramatically while you laughed harder. You remembered it vividly now, back then it wasn’t funny but now this is something everyone laughs about. Few of your friends, plus Steve on the side of the alley next to the movie theater. Steve had been once again, heartbroken over Nancy. That week he’d been a hopeless romantic, begging for her attention. He didn’t say it to her, but he would tell it to you all the time. He used to have this intense energy with Jonathan because of Nancy. Senior year he felt her slipping away, there was nothing he could do about it.
Nancy and Jonathan just made sense.
Steve was running his mouth, as usual. He was saying some things to Nancy, you had even gotten in the middle at some point but Steve kept going. Until Jonathan showed up, that’s when everything took a turn. Steve kept running his mouth to Jonathan- basically degrading him, Jonathan tried to put it past him until he couldn’t. Until Jonathan threw the first hit. Nancy yelling at both as they went back and forth, Tommy imitating the fight, Carol staying silent, you tried to stop them but they were too strong. Cops showed up eventually, Steve got away but Jonathan didn’t.
“The way you were acting about Nancy back then? Steve, I won’t lie. You absolutely deserved that one.”
Steve stared at you in betrayal. “Wow.”
“You did!”
“I thought tonight was supposed to be romantic.”
“It is romantic.” You smiled sweetly. “I’m being honest with you.”
“That’s somehow worse.”
You laughed again and Steve tried to fight his smile for maybe two full seconds before losing completely.
“Okay,” he admitted finally, leaning forward onto his elbows. “Yeah. I deserved some of it.”
“Some?”
“Most.”
“Thank you.”
He shook his head softly to himself, smiling into the table for a second before glancing back up at you again. “I was an asshole back then.”
The honesty in his voice softened your grin a little, he didn’t sound defensive.
Steve rubbed absentmindedly at the condensation on his glass. “I think I thought if I acted like I had everything figured out, nobody would notice I didn’t.”
Your chest tightened quietly at that.
“You were there for all of it too,” he added after a second, eyes flicking back toward yours. “Which honestly might be the most embarrassing part.”
You snorted softly. “Oh, please. You saw me throw a milkshake at Tammy Thompson Junior year.”
His eyes widened immediately. “Holy shit.”
“She deserved it.”
“She absolutely deserved it,” he agreed instantly. “Robin would’ve killed you if she saw that.”
You both laughed at the same time.
Steve watched you over the table quietly for a second after the laughter faded, expression softer now. “You know what’s weird?”
“What?”
“I think you knew me better than almost anybody even back then.”
The words landed somewhere deep. You knew when Steve was angry before he spoke. Knew when he was lying. Knew when his confidence was real and when it was just noise covering something else. And somehow, sitting across from him now under dim diner lights, it felt terrifying realizing maybe he’d always known you too.
By the time you finally slid out of the diner booth, the world outside had gone fully dark. Hawkins looked softer at night somehow. Neon signs glowing against wet pavement. Streetlights stretching gold across empty roads.
Steve held the door open for you automatically.
You paused beside him halfway through walking out, looking up suspiciously. “Who are you?”
He looked offended immediately. “I’ve always had manners.”
“You once opened a car door into me, remember that?”
“That happened one time.”
“You laughed.”
“It was a little funny.”
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself while Steve followed close beside you toward the parking lot. The cold air hit your cheeks immediately, waking you up a little after the warmth of the diner.
Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket beside you. “Okay,” he said casually. “Arcade next.”
You blinked at him. “There’s more?”
He looked over immediately. “You thought I was only doing dinner?”
Your chest did something stupid again. And apparently your face gave it away because Steve’s expression softened instantly.
“…yeah,” he said quieter this time. “There’s more.”
The parking lot stretched mostly empty around you, diner lights glowing behind your backs while cold night air curled around the edges of your sleeves. Steve walked slightly ahead for half a second before stopping beside the passenger side of his car. Then he reached for the handle, opening it for you.
The arcade was louder than the diner. Bright lights flashing across dark carpet, machines chiming over each other from every direction, the air smelling faintly like popcorn and old carpet and electricity. A group of middle schoolers crowded around one of the racing games near the entrance while somebody absolutely destroyed a high score in the back corner to the sound of aggressive 8-bit music.
You looked over at Steve immediately. “…this was your plan?”
Steve shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, suddenly looking weirdly nervous again. “You said once that arcades make you less angry at the world. I know you like to play games too. And last time we were here it wasn’t the best experience, so I want to make it up to you.”
Your stomach flipped hard. “I said that forever ago, aw you do pay attention.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged lightly. “Only to the things that matter.”
Steve looked slightly relieved when you smiled though, shoulders loosening a little while he walked backward toward the token counter. “C’mon. I’m about to embarrass you at skeeball.”
You laughed immediately. “Oh, absolutely not.”
Five minutes later, Steve was losing horribly.
“You are cheating,” he accused while you casually rolled another ball straight into the highest ring.
“I’m literally just better than you.”
“That’s impossible.”
“You’ve said that every round.”
“Because statistically this shouldn’t be happening.”
You grinned while another ball rolled cleanly into the center. Steve stared at the scoreboard in genuine betrayal while you nearly doubled over laughing beside him.
“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You sure?”
“Okay, second worst.”
You laughed harder at that, and Steve watched the whole thing happen with the kind of expression that made your chest hurt again. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked suspiciously.
Steve snorted softly. “You’re having fun.”
“…yeah?”
“I dunno.” His smile softened slightly. “Feels like I haven’t seen you relax in a while.”
You couldn’t remember the last time your shoulders felt this loose around somebody. The last time laughing felt effortless instead of something you forced out to keep conversations moving.
Steve leaned one elbow against the skeeball machine beside you. “Alright,” he said seriously. “Double or nothing.”
“We’re not betting on anything.”
“We should be.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What do you want if you win?”
A dangerous grin spread slowly across his face. “Undecided.”
“Oh absolutely not.”
He laughed immediately. “Okay, wow. You think very little of me.”
“You climbed through my bedroom window last week.”
“And the whole town heard my name.”
You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself while Steve grabbed another skeeball.
Standing beside him underneath flashing arcade lights while he argued with you over absolutely nothing important. Watching him laugh with his sleeves pushed up and his hair falling messily over his forehead because he kept running his hands through it. Maybe this version of you and Steve had existed underneath everything else for years just waiting for both of you to stop being idiots long enough to notice it.
Steve ended up winning the next round only because he cheated. You watched him lean suspiciously far over the line before tossing the last ball straight into the highest ring.
Your jaw dropped immediately. “OH my god.”
“That counted.”
“It absolutely did not count.”
“It went in!”
“You were practically inside the machine!”
Steve grinned triumphantly while the scoreboard flashed his final score dramatically overhead. “Sounds like somebody’s upset she lost.”
“You cheated.”
“Sore loser.”
You shoved his shoulder hard enough to make him laugh, and the sound of it got swallowed into the chaos of the arcade around you. Flashing lights bounced gold and blue across his face while he grabbed your wrist automatically before you could shove him again. Steve looked down at where his hand wrapped around your wrist before slowly lifting his eyes back toward yours. Everything around you suddenly felt far away.
Steve’s thumb brushed once lightly against your skin before he let go slowly like he almost forgot he was still touching you, your stomach flipped violently.
“Okay,” he said after a second, voice quieter now. “Prize counter.”
You blinked once. “What?”
“You beat me at skeeball first.” He gestured toward the back counter. “Means you get something.”
“You do realize these prizes are all terrible, right?”
“That’s part of the experience.”
You laughed softly while Steve guided you through the crowded arcade toward the counter anyway, one hand resting briefly against the small of your back whenever people squeezed past too close.
Every single time he touched you tonight felt deliberate. The prize counter glowed underneath cheap fluorescent lights, shelves crowded with stuffed animals, plastic jewelry, candy, fake roses, and random junk nobody actually needed.
Steve leaned against the glass counter beside you. “Pick.”
You stared at the shelves dramatically. “Wow. So many life-changing options.”
“I know. Huge moment for you.”
You pointed immediately toward a tiny stuffed shark hanging near the back wall. “That one looks over it.”
Steve snorted quietly. “That’s the one you want?”
“He’s cute.”
The employee behind the counter looked deeply uninterested while Steve counted tickets onto the counter anyway.
“You know,” Steve said casually while the guy grabbed the shark down for you, “when I pictured this date going well, I didn’t imagine I’d spend money winning you a depressed sea creature.”
“It’s not depressed,” you defended immediately, taking the shark from the employee. “He’s just tired.”
Steve stared at the stuffed animal for a second. “…yeah okay actually he does look like you.”
You gasped dramatically while Steve laughed under his breath again. You hugged the stupid shark against your chest while both of you drifted away from the counter slower now, neither really in a rush to figure out what came next. Outside the arcade windows, the night had gotten colder. Rain threatened faintly against the dark sky, clouds covering most of the stars now.
Steve glanced toward the windows briefly before looking back at you. “You wanna get outta here?”
Your stomach flipped slightly at the softness in his voice. “Yeah,” you answered quietly.
The cold hit immediately the second you stepped outside. The parking lot glowed wet underneath streetlights now, the air smelling faintly like rain and cigarette smoke drifting from somewhere down the block. Steve walked beside you slower than before, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket while you carried the stuffed shark tucked against your chest.
“You’re seriously keeping that thing?” he asked.
You looked down at the shark defensively. “His name is Bruce.”
Steve stared at you. “You named him in under thirty seconds.”
“Yeah, Bruce Springsteen duh.”
A laugh escaped him quietly under his breath, visible in the cold air now. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You bought him for me.”
“I made mistakes.”
You smiled to yourself while both of you crossed toward the car. Halfway there, rain started again.
You looked up instinctively right as Steve muttered, “Shit.”
Suddenly, his hand grabbed yours. Warm fingers wrapping quickly around your wrist before pulling you into a run toward the car.
You laughed immediately. “Steve—”
“I just cleaned this car!”
“That is the saddest thing you’ve ever said!”
Rain started falling harder now, quick cold drops against your hair and shoulders while Steve fumbled his keys dramatically beside the passenger door.
“Hurry up!”
“I’m TRYING.”
“You literally can’t even see the keyhole!”
“I’m under pressure!”
You were still laughing when he finally got the door open, both of you practically stumbling inside seconds later.
The doors slammed shut, everything went quiet again except for rain hitting the roof. Your breathing came fast from laughing, cheeks flushed warm now while water dripped slowly from strands of hair onto your shoulders.
Steve looked over at you and froze. Taking it all in.
Your stomach flipped immediately. “What?” you asked softer now.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the wet strands of hair stuck against your cheek before meeting your eyes again slower this time. “You’re really pretty,” he said quietly.
The words hit so suddenly your entire chest tightened.
Steve looked like he regretted saying it immediately after. Not because he didn’t mean it, because he meant it too much.
Steve’s fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. The rain softened the world outside the car into blurry streaks of light and color, the windshield fogging faintly at the corners while the heater hummed low underneath the silence. And still, Steve kept looking at you. Like he couldn’t stop.
Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to. “Why are you staring at me?”
A small breath left him through his nose, almost a laugh. “I dunno.” His eyes flicked down briefly before returning to yours again. “Feels like every time I look at you tonight I realize something else.”
Your chest tightened painfully. “Like what?”
Steve leaned back slightly in his seat, fingers tapping once against the steering wheel before going still again. He looked nervous all over again now, which somehow made every word feel heavier. “Like…” He hesitated. “I think I forgot how much I like being around you when we’re not making everything complicated.” Steve looked down briefly with a quiet laugh. “Which sounds bad considering we’ve spent like ninety percent of this year making each other miserable.”
“That’s not fully true.”
His brows lifted slightly. “No?”
You shook your head softly, staring down at the stuffed shark in your lap for a second before speaking quieter. “I don’t think you’ve ever actually made me miserable.”
Steve looked at you carefully now, like he wasn’t sure he heard you right.
“You drove me insane sometimes,” you admitted with the faintest smile. “But…” Your fingers tightened slightly around the shark. “Even when things got messy with us, you still always felt like…” You searched for the right word quietly. “Home, I guess.”
Your throat tightened immediately after saying it.
Steve looked wrecked by the sentence.
His head tilted back slightly against the seat like the words physically hit him too hard all at once. One hand dragged slowly across his jaw while he stared down toward the dashboard for a second.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered quietly.
Heat rushed into your face instantly. “Okay, forget I said that—”
“No.” His eyes snapped back toward yours immediately. “No, don’t do that.” Steve looked at you like he was trying very hard not to cross some invisible line sitting between both of you tonight.
“You feel like home to me too, since the first day I met you.”
Your breath caught painfully in your chest.
Neither of you moved for a long time after that. The rain kept falling steadily against the roof, soft and constant, while the inside of the car sat wrapped in warm dim light from the dashboard. Your heartbeat felt loud enough to fill the entire silence between you.
Steve still looked at you the same way. Your fingers tightened slightly around the stuffed shark in your lap before you finally let out a shaky breath. “This is getting dangerously sincere.”
A quiet laugh escaped him immediately, grateful almost. “Yeah,” he murmured, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Little bit.”
You smiled faintly toward your lap.
“You know what’s weird?” Steve asked.
“What?”
“I was terrified tonight was gonna be awkward.”
Your brows lifted slightly. “Really?”
“Mmhm.” He nodded once against the headrest. “I had like…three backup conversations planned.”
You laughed instantly. “No you didn’t.”
“I absolutely did.”
“Steve.”
“I panicked!”
The sound that escaped you this time was warmer, fuller, and Steve’s expression softened immediately hearing it.
“What were the backup conversations?” you asked.
Steve groaned dramatically. “No.”
“You brought it up.”
“Yeah, huge mistake.”
You turned toward him more fully in your seat now, smiling openly for the first time in the last few minutes. “Tell me.”
Steve sighed deeply like this was physically painful for him. “Okay. One of them was movies.”
“That’s normal.”
“One was music.”
“Still normal.”
“And one was…” He paused.
Your eyes narrowed immediately. “Steve.”
His head dropped back against the seat dramatically. “Childhood pets.”
You burst out laughing. “Bro.”
“You had emergency pet stories prepared?”
“I was trying to create conversational flow!”
Rain blurred the windows while you laughed hard enough your stomach hurt again, and Steve just sat there watching you with this helpless grin like he’d willingly embarrass himself a thousand more times if it meant hearing that sound again.
You liked him like this. Not just when things were intense. Not just when things were messy and physical and impossible to ignore. You liked this kind of him. Nervous Steve. Trying-too-hard Steve. Steve cleaning his car and rehearsing conversations and buying flowers he almost convinced himself not to bring. The realization settled quietly into your chest, this was the most honest either of you had ever been with each other.
Steve’s smile faded softer around the edges after your laughter died down. “Can I tell you something else?”
Your stomach flipped instantly. “Should I be scared?”
“Probably.”
You leaned back slightly against the seat. “Okay. Go.”
Steve looked out at the rain briefly before speaking quieter this time. “I almost cancelled tonight.”
Your breath caught. “The fuck?”
He shrugged lightly, but the movement looked tense. “Not because I didn’t want to come,” he added quickly. “I did. Obviously.” A small nervous laugh. “I just…” His fingers tapped once against the steering wheel. “I think I realized this mattered to me more than I expected it to.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
Steve kept his eyes on the rain now instead of you. “And honestly?” he admitted softer, “that scared the shit out of me.”
The honesty of it sat heavy between both of you. Because you understood it completely. You looked down toward your hands for a second before speaking quietly too. “I almost backed out getting ready.”
That pulled his eyes toward you immediately.“You did?”
You nodded once. “I changed outfits like four times.”
A smile tugged weakly at the corner of his mouth. “Four?”
“…maybe five.”
Steve laughed softly under his breath. “Jesus.”
“I know.”
“And here I thought I was losing my mind alone.”
You smiled a little. Then slowly your hand moved across the center console until your fingers brushed lightly against his. Your heart pounded so hard it almost hurt now, but you didn’t pull away. His hand turned slowly underneath yours until his fingers threaded carefully between them.
The car stayed quiet except for the rain and the low hum of the heater while your fingers stayed tangled together over the center console. Steve looked down at your joined hands for a second like he still couldn’t believe it either.
“You know what the problem is?” he asked quietly.
Your stomach tightened immediately.
“What?”
Steve leaned his head back against the seat again, eyes fixed somewhere out through the rain-streaked windshield now. “I think I liked this better when it was ruining my life in a manageable way.”
A soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Manageable?”
“Yeah.” His thumb brushed your knuckles absentmindedly again. “Before, at least I could pretend this was temporary.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
Steve’s jaw flexed slightly before he continued quieter now. “But now I’m sitting here introducing you to emotional support sharks and buying flowers and—” He let out a quiet breath through his nose. “I don’t know how to do this casually anymore.”
Your eyes dropped toward your joined hands. “Maybe we were never good at casual.”
Steve laughed softly under his breath. “No. We were terrible at it.”
You looked over immediately.
Steve stared out at the rain for a long second before speaking again. “You know what scares me?”
Your stomach flipped hard. “What?”
His eyes finally moved back toward yours slowly. “That this is the part where people ruin each other.”
Your fingers tightened unconsciously around his. Steve swallowed once, gaze dropping briefly before lifting back toward you again. “Because if this goes bad…” He shook his head slightly like he didn’t even want to finish the thought. “I don’t think I know how to lose you halfway anymore.” Steve looked almost frustrated with himself now for admitting any of this. “Sorry,” he muttered quietly. “That sounded way darker than it did in my head.”
And instead of comforting you like maybe he intended, something sharp twisted unexpectedly in your chest.
Your hand slipped slowly out of his.
Steve noticed immediately, his expression shifted. “Hey—”
“No, I just…” You looked away first, staring out at the rain streaking down the passenger window. “Why do you keep talking like this is already fucked?”
Steve blinked slightly. “What?”
“You keep saying things like if this goes bad or when we ruin each other.” Your throat tightened harder the longer you talked. “It’s like you already think we’re gonna fail before we’ve even really started.”
His face fell instantly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But it is what you said.”
Rain hit harder against the roof now, filling the space between both of you while Steve looked at you like he was trying to figure out how the conversation tilted sideways so fast.“I’m not saying I think we’ll fail,” he said carefully.
“You get scared and immediately start pulling back before anything can actually hurt you.”
Hearing him talk about losing you already suddenly made this beautiful thing between you feel fragile in a way you didn’t want to think about yet.
Steve rubbed a hand across his jaw slowly before speaking quieter. “I’m not pulling back.”
“You kinda are.”
“I’m trying to be honest with you.”
“And I’m trying to understand why you’re acting like caring about me is automatically gonna destroy us.”
That hit him hard enough you saw it physically happen. Steve looked down immediately, jaw tightening.
“Because I’ve done this before.”
Your stomach tightened. Steve laughed quietly under his breath, except there wasn’t anything happy in it. “And last time I got this serious about somebody, everything exploded.”
The realization settled painfully between both of you immediately.
Steve leaned back against the seat again, eyes fixed somewhere ahead now instead of at you. “I know this isn’t the same thing,” he said quickly. “I know you’re not her. That’s not what I mean.”
But the damage was already there a little.
You looked down at your hands in your lap. “You still thought about her, in that way.”
Rain blurred across the windshield while his expression shifted into something almost frustrated with himself. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “For like half a second.”
You nodded once like you understood, but your chest already felt tight in that dangerous way where you knew you were about to shut down emotionally if you stayed there too long.
Steve noticed immediately. “Hey,” he said softer now. “That’s not—”
“It’s okay.” You said voice careful.
“No, it’s not okay, because you’re hearing something I’m not actually trying to say.”
You looked back out the passenger window instead. Hawkins blurred past in wet streaks of neon and headlights while rain tapped steadily against the glass.
“I’m trying to figure out why this suddenly feels like I’m being graded against your last relationship.”
You saw it happen immediately in the way his jaw tightened.
“Don’t do that.”
“So now I can’t do that?..,” you admitted quietly. “It’s what it feels like.”
The rest of the drive home felt wrong after that. The kind where both people still cared too much to fully pull away but neither knew how to fix the damage without making it bigger.
Steve still opened doors for you when he parked outside your house. Still walked you to the porch through the rain. Still kept his jacket around your shoulders even though he was getting soaked himself.
The porch light cast warm gold across the wet driveway while both of you stood there awkwardly for a second too long. Your flowers rested carefully in one hand.
The stuffed shark tucked against your chest.
Steve looked exhausted suddenly. Rainwater dripped slowly from the ends of his hair while he searched your face like he was trying to figure out what version of this night he was leaving you with now.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quietly.
Your throat tightened. “I know.”
But truth is, you didn’t know.
He looked like he wanted to say something else. Like he was standing right on the edge of it. But then your porch light flickered once overhead and reality settled back in around both of you again.
You stepped backward first. “I should go inside.”
Steve nodded immediately even though disappointment flashed across his face so quickly it almost hurt to see. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Okay.”
Your heartbeat pounded painfully against your ribs. Steve just looked at you for one long second. “Goodnight.”
You forced a small smile anyway. “Goodnight.”
Then you turned before he could see your face properly and slipped inside the house. The second the door shut behind you, you leaned back against it hard. Your house slept quietly around you while rain hit the windows outside.
And suddenly the entire night replayed all at once in your head. The flowers, his hand holding yours in the car, the way he looked at you all night, the shark, the nervousness, the confession.
last time I got this serious about somebody, everything exploded.
Your eyes burned unexpectedly. “Cool,” you whispered bitterly to yourself.
You pushed yourself off the door slowly and headed upstairs as quietly as possible, Steve’s jacket still wrapped around your shoulders. Your room looked exactly the same as it always did. You set the flowers carefully on your desk. Set the stuffed shark beside your vanity chair. Then just stood there for a second staring at both of them.
You could survive losing hookups-Steve.
You could survive losing messy almost-Steve.
But this version?
The version that remembered your favorite flowers from high school? The version that looked nervous before seeing you? The version that held your hand like it mattered?
That one would destroy you.
You sat slowly on the edge of your bed, Steve’s jacket still warm from his body.
And for the first time all night, the thought hit you clearly. Maybe this only worked when neither of you cared this much.
You rubbed tiredly at your face before standing again, moving toward your vanity just to do something with your hands. You pulled your earrings off slowly, dropping them beside scattered makeup products and hair clips. Your reflection looked strange somehow.
A branch scraped lightly against the outside of your window. Then it happened again, your brows pulled together immediately.
You turned slowly toward the window just as another soft thud sounded outside. “What the fuck—”
You stepped closer carefully, pulling the curtain aside, and nearly screamed. Steve was halfway climbing through your window looking absolutely miserable. Rain soaked through his hair and shirt completely now. One sneaker balanced dangerously against the edge of the roof outside while one hand gripped the window frame like he’d been reconsidering this decision the entire climb up. The second your eyes met his, he froze too.
“…hi,” Steve said breathlessly.
You stared at him in complete disbelief. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he answered immediately.
Which somehow sounded honest enough that your anger cracked for half a second.
Steve climbed the rest of the way inside awkwardly, nearly knocking into your desk in the process before catching himself at the last second. Rainwater dripped onto your floorboards while he pushed wet hair back out of his face, breathing harder than he should’ve been.
“You climbed my window?”
“I couldn’t leave you like that.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
Steve looked wrecked now that he was standing fully in front of you again. Nervous in a way you hadn’t seen from him in years. His hands flexed once uselessly at his sides before he finally shook his head hard like he was frustrated with himself.
“I screwed that up.”
You crossed your arms tighter around yourself immediately. “Steve—”
“No, I’m talking.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Steve took one step closer carefully. “I am so serious about you,” he said quietly. “Like…scarily serious.”
Your throat tightened instantly.
“And I know I sounded like I was waiting for this to fail, but that’s not what this is.” His jaw flexed once. “I got scared because this matters to me now. That’s the difference.”
Rain hit softly against the roof outside while you stood frozen in front of him.
Steve laughed quietly under his breath, nervous and messy. “Do you know how long it’s been since I wanted something real with someone?”
You didn’t answer.
His eyes stayed fixed on yours anyway.“Because honestly? I got used to not giving a fuck.” His voice lowered softer now. “It was easier.”
Your chest ached.
“But then this happened,” he admitted.
Steve swallowed hard before continuing quieter now. “And now I’m sitting in my car thinking about how we’ve grown up together and how I want to continue growing with you and whether you feel the same way and this has just been building up for soo fucking long and I just, I just can’t—”
A breathless laugh escaped you before you could stop it, Steve looked relieved hearing it.
“See?” he said softly. “That. That’s what I’m talking about.”
Your eyes burned unexpectedly. Steve took another careful step closer. “I’m not scared because I think you’ll hurt me,” he admitted quietly. “I’m scared because you actually could.”
Because it was the first completely honest thing either of you said all night. You looked down briefly, overwhelmed suddenly by the weight of all of this. “Stop talking like you’re waiting for me to leave.”
Steve went still, like the sentence physically hit him. His expression changed instantly after that.
“Oh,” he whispered softly. Rain filled the silence between both of you while Steve looked down briefly, rubbing a hand hard across the back of his neck. “Jesus,” he muttered quietly to himself. “Okay. Yeah. I hear it now.”
Your arms loosened slowly around yourself.
Steve looked back up at you again, eyes softer now. “I’m not waiting for you to leave.”His voice came out low. “I think I’m actually doing the opposite.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
He stepped closer again, slower this time like he was afraid of pushing too hard. “I think I’m trying so hard not to lose this that I started talking like it’s already gone.” A frustrated breath left him. “Which is stupid.”
You looked down at the floorboards quietly. “It just felt like maybe you were realizing this was a mistake.”
Steve’s face fell immediately. “What?” he said softly. “No.”
You shrugged lightly even though the movement hurt. “You brought up Nancy. You brought up everything exploding. You looked terrified the entire drive home.”
“Because I am terrified.”
Your eyes lifted back toward him.
Steve laughed once quietly under his breath. “You know what the problem is?” he asked.
“What?”
“You matter too much now.”
The room went still.
Steve looked almost helpless standing there soaked from rainwater in the middle of your bedroom. “And I know that’s not romantic,” he continued softly. “I know it’s messy and probably unfair to say, but I haven’t felt like this in a really long time.” His eyes searched yours carefully. “Not like this.”
Your throat tightened hard enough it hurt.
Steve glanced toward the flowers on your desk briefly before speaking again quieter now. “Do you know how long I stood in that flower shop trying to decide if bringing those was too much?”
A tiny breath escaped you despite yourself.
“Like genuinely,” he said, shaking his head once. “The guy working there thought I was insane.”
You laughed weakly through the ache in your chest.
Steve smiled a little seeing it.
Then softer:
“I remembered your favorite flowers from sophomore year.”
God.
Your eyes burned instantly again.
“Your prom date brought you those awful yellow carnations and you smiled anyway because you didn’t wanna be mean,” Steve said quietly. “But afterward you told me they looked like funeral flowers.”
A startled laugh broke out of you through the emotion.
“I hated those flowers,” you admitted.
“I know.”
“You remembered that?”
Steve looked at you like the answer should’ve been obvious. “I remember everything about you.”
Silence.
Real silence this time.
The kind that changes something.
Your chest hurt so badly now you almost didn’t know what to do with it.
Steve stepped fully into your space then, careful and slow, his hand lifting hesitantly toward your face like he was still giving you room to stop him if you wanted.
You didn’t.
His fingers brushed softly against your cheek.
Warm despite the rain.
“I’m not scared because I think this is temporary,” he said quietly. “I’m scared because I don’t think it is.”
Steve’s forehead rested lightly against yours then, both of you breathing unevenly in the dim light of your bedroom while rain tapped softly against the windows outside.
“I don’t wanna do this halfway with you anymore,” he whispered.
Your fingers tightened weakly in the front of his damp shirt. “Steve…”
He looked wrecked already, like he knew what was coming before you even said it.
“You scared me tonight.” you said quietly.
Steve closed his eyes briefly like he physically felt it. “I know.”
“I think about everything when I care about someone,” he admitted quietly. “That’s the problem.”
Your eyes dropped immediately because suddenly everything hurt too much all at once.
“I’m trying really hard not to fall in love with you alone here, Steve.”
Your chest tightened immediately afterward because you hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Maybe you had, but it just needed to finally break open.
Steve stepped toward you slowly. “Hey,” he said softly.
You shook your head once, looking away immediately because your eyes were burning now and you absolutely refused to cry in front of him over this.
Steve’s hand found your face gently before you could pull too far into yourself. “Look at me.”
“Do you really think you’re alone in this?” he asked quietly.
Your throat tightened.
Steve laughed once under his breath, but it sounded shaky now. “Jesus Christ.”
His thumb brushed carefully beneath your eye before continuing softer, “I climbed through your window in the rain because I thought I ruined this.”
“I sat in my car outside your house for ten minutes trying to convince myself not to come up here because I thought maybe you realized I wasn’t worth the risk.” His jaw tightened slightly. “And the whole time you were upstairs thinking the exact same thing about yourself.”
Steve’s forehead rested against yours again, his breathing uneven now too. “I am so in love with you it’s actually making me stupid,” he whispered.
Your eyes shut immediately. A shaky breath left you before your hands grabbed the front of his shirt harder, pulling him toward you like if you didn’t touch him right now you might fall apart completely. You could feel it in the way his hands trembled slightly where they rested against your waist. The way his breathing caught unevenly every time your noses brushed.
Steve’s forehead stayed pressed lightly against yours while his thumb dragged slowly against your side underneath the jacket still hanging from your shoulders. His eyes stayed half-lidded now, fixed on your mouth for a second before lifting back to your eyes again like he was trying to give you time.
Your throat tightened painfully before you whispered, “You make me stupid.”
Steve’s expression cracked immediately.
Something helpless softened across his face so fast it almost hurt to look at.
You swallowed hard, fingers twisting tighter in his shirt. “I think about you constantly,” you admitted shakily. “Like constantly. At home. When I wake up. When songs come on the radio.” Your voice broke slightly on the next part. “And I keep trying to convince myself it’s temporary because temporary feels safer but—” Your breath caught.
Steve looked at you like he was hanging onto every word.
“But I think if this ended now,” you whispered, eyes burning again, “it would actually break my heart.”
Steve inhaled sharply through his nose like the sentence physically knocked the air out of him. Your chest hurt so badly now you almost regretted saying any of it out loud because suddenly everything was real in a way you couldn’t take back anymore.
“I think,” you continued quietly, voice trembling now despite yourself, “I’ve been in love with you longer than I realized, Steve.”
Steve’s eyes shut immediately, like hearing you say that hurt him in the way it hurt you. Maybe even slightly more. A soft, wrecked sound left him under his breath before his hands slid carefully up your arms, like he needed to hold onto you properly now or he might lose his balance.
“Fuck,” he whispered again, almost to himself this time.
Your laugh came out watery and weak. “Yeah.”
Steve opened his eyes again slowly. The way he looked at you after that was almost unbearable. His hand moved carefully to your face, fingers brushing softly beneath your jaw while he stared at you like he was trying to memorize this exact version of you forever.
“You have no idea,” he whispered shakily, “how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
Steve looked at you for another second like he was trying to survive this moment without falling apart inside it. You could see it all over him. In the way his breathing had gone uneven. In the way his thumb kept brushing absentmindedly against your cheek like he needed the reminder that you were actually here. In the way his eyes kept dropping to your mouth before forcing themselves back up to yours again. Like kissing you was taking every ounce of restraint he had left. Steve’s forehead stayed against yours for a second longer before he slowly pulled back just enough to look at you again. Because the second he saw the way you were looking back at him. Something in his expression cracked completely and you could feel it.
His hand slid from your jaw to the side of your neck carefully. “Do you believe me?,” he whispered.
You swallowed thickly before nodding once. “I do.”
You felt the slightest brush of his nose against yours. The trembling exhale he let out at the exact same moment your fingers curled tighter into the front of his shirt. His hand tightened at your waist instantly. “Fuck,” he whispered again, completely overwhelmed by you.
Finally, his lips gently touched yours. Like he’d imagined this too many times and was terrified of getting it wrong. Your eyes shut immediately as you kissed him back, and the second you did, Steve made this quiet sound into your mouth like he couldn’t believe you were kissing him back just as desperately.
The kiss deepened suddenly. His hand slid into your hair while the other pulled you closer by your waist until your body pressed fully against his, and every bit of restraint he’d been clinging to started slipping all at once.
Steve kissed like he was starving for you.
Messy and emotional and consuming in the way only he could be, like he kept forgetting how to breathe every time your lips moved against his. His fingers tangled tighter in your hair when you kissed him deeper, and the soft groan that left him went straight through you.
“mmm,” he breathed against your mouth before kissing you again immediately.
Your hands slid up into his hair instinctively, Steve head tipped back slightly for half a second before he pulled you back into him harder. When you finally pulled away just enough to breathe, Steve followed automatically, lips brushing yours again like he already couldn’t stand the distance.
“I don’t just wanna kiss you and pretend this is nothing tomorrow.” His fingers tightened carefully at your waist. “I don’t wanna keep almost having you.”
The vulnerability in his voice nearly wrecked you all over again. You stared at him for a second before your hand moved to his face carefully, thumb brushing against his cheek. “I know,” you whispered.
Steve leaned into your touch instinctively.
Before you could lose the nerve, you softly confessed, “I want to do this with you.”
“Like… really do this.” Your voice trembled slightly despite yourself. “The messy parts. The scary parts. All of it.” You swallowed thickly. “I want us to actually build something together, Steve.”
The look on his face after that was almost unbearable, like nobody had ever offered him something he wanted this badly before. Somewhere outside, rain continued against the windows of your room while Steve held you like he finally found something worth staying for.
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the confession you've all been waiting for.. aweee
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4 years since the first time my eyes landed on family video steve and i haven’t been able to get him out of my system since.
TEMPORARY FIX UPDATEEE!!
temporary fix update scheduled for 3pm pst!! who's up and scared lol!!!!
director's cut ♡ stonathan x reader
pairing: steve harrington x reader x jonathan byers ٠࣪⭑ wc: 5.2k
summary: rooftop afterparty turns filthy when jonathan byers and steve harrington set their sights on you. one thing leads to another and you end up at their shared apartment, caught between them for a hot, messy night. tags/warnings: 18+ ! MDNI ! smut, fem!reader, stonathan x reader, mmf threesome, polyamory, bisexual male characters, explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, car fingering, public teasing, elevator makeout, creampie, unprotected sex, cum play, male/male kissing, male/male handjobs, alcohol use, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, aftercare, established jonathan/steve friendship, sexual tension, friends to lovers, one night stand, consensual sex, fluffy smut author's note: helloooo everyone !!!! been working on this fic for weeks and here it is :) it`s like the freakiest thing i've ever written but i've been yearning for these two since forever ... this fic is dedicated to my wife @djopuppy <3 enjoy !!!! ao3
The city lights of New York City glitter like scattered diamonds against the night sky as you step out of a sleek black car. The premiere of Echoes in the Static still hums under your skin, an indie psychological thriller that left the festival crowd buzzing long after the credits rolled. You can still feel it in your bones: the flicker of the projector, the collective silence during the final hallway sequence, the way people sat frozen for half a second before applauding like they’d just woken up from a nightmare.
Your nightmare. Your film. Well, not technically yours. But your fingerprints are all over it. Every shadow, every ugly little pocket of darkness swallowing the corners of the frame. Every trembling light source. Every suffocating close-up. You spent months bleeding yourself dry over that cinematography, sleeping on editing room couches and living off cold brew and cigarettes while arguing with colorists at three in the morning.
And now your name sits there in the credits forever.
Tonight’s afterparty feels dangerous in the way success always does. Like if you let yourself enjoy it too much, something will come along and snatch it away.
The rooftop pulses with low conversation and expensive perfume. Jazz spills from a trio tucked near the far railing, all slow saxophone and lazy piano keys. String lights sway overhead in the warm spring wind, washing everyone gold and amber and beautiful enough to belong in movies themselves. Actors cluster near the bar pretending not to check whether photographers are catching their good angles. Producers laugh too loudly. Somebody from Variety is flirting with a costume designer beside a heater lamp.
You’re halfway through a glass of champagne when you spot him.
Jonathan Byers.
He’s standing near the elevator doors with his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets, like he already regrets coming but is trying not to show it. Taller than you remember. Leaner, somehow. His hair’s longer now, curling slightly at the ends like he’s been too busy to cut it properly. Black button-down sleeves rolled to his elbows. Rings on his fingers you don’t remember him wearing before.
And Christ, he’s beautiful. Not in the polished Hollywood way everyone else here is beautiful. Jonathan looks real. Sharp edges and tired eyes and quiet intensity. The kind of man who notices things nobody else does. His eyes find yours across the terrace and immediately soften.
There it is. That shy little smile. You feel it low in your stomach before he’s even crossed the room.
“Hey,” he says once he reaches you, voice warm beneath the noise of the party. His gaze flickers over you like he’s trying not to stare and failing a little anyway. “Congratulations.”
You smile automatically, fingers tightening slightly around your champagne flute. “Thanks.”
“No, seriously.” He exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head once. “The cinematography was insane. The hallway shots? Jesus. It felt like the walls were alive.”
You grin despite yourself. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Yeah, well.” His gaze drifts over your face for half a second too long before he drags it away. “You nailed it.”
The compliment lands harder than it should. Maybe because Jonathan doesn’t bullshit people. Every word out of his mouth always sounds carefully chosen, like he means it or he wouldn’t say it at all.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you say, leaning one shoulder against the railing.
“Friend of a friend on lighting crew.” He rubs the back of his neck, visibly nervous now that the attention’s shifted onto him. “I wanted to see the final cut.”
“You liked it?”
“I think I’m gonna be thinking about it for weeks.”
Your laugh comes easier after that.
Conversation slips into place almost immediately, smooth and familiar. You talk lenses and lighting ratios and impossible shooting schedules. Jonathan tells you about a recent freelance photography gig shooting album covers for some post-punk band whose lead singer nearly set a couch on fire mid-shoot.
You tell him about the disaster of filming a subway sequence at four in the morning while the director had a nervous breakdown over continuity. Jonathan laughs quietly at that, eyes crinkling. God, his eyes. You notice the way they linger on your mouth when you talk. The way his fingers brush yours when he hands you a napkin. The way his voice lowers every time the conversation drifts away from work and toward something more personal.
“You look…” He pauses briefly, jaw tightening like he’s annoyed at himself for saying it out loud. “Really good tonight.”
Heat blooms through you instantly. “You clean up alright too, Jonathan.”
His ears go pink immediately. Cute. Dangerously cute.
“I’m gonna grab us another round,” he says eventually, lifting your empty champagne flute from your hand. His fingers linger for a second longer than necessary before he steps back. “Don’t disappear on me.”
“No promises.”
Jonathan gives you one last look before weaving toward the bar through the crowd.
And that’s when you notice him.
Steve Harrington.
He’s leaning against the polished bar like he owns the damn rooftop. Whiskey glass loose in one hand. Charcoal suit jacket pushed open. Tie abandoned entirely. Broad shoulders. Expensive watch. Stupidly perfect hair somehow surviving the wind. The kind of handsome that should honestly piss you off.
And the worst part? You know immediately that this is Steve. Not because you’ve met him before. You haven’t. But because Jonathan talks about him constantly.
Not in an obvious way. Jonathan would probably rather die than admit how often Steve’s name comes up in conversation. But over months of late-night phone calls and half-distracted conversations in editing suites and smoking outside bars after gigs, Steve Harrington has slowly become this weird recurring character in your life.
Steve said this. Steve did that. Steve burnt pasta again. Steve drove five hours to help him move apartments. Steve once started making dinner without asking, then left Jonathan a plate on the counter and didn’t mention it again.
Sometimes Jonathan talks about Steve like he’s infuriating. Sometimes like he’s family. Sometimes with this strange softness in his voice that always made you curious. And now here he is. Real.
Apparently it pisses Jonathan off that Steve exists tonight too, because the second Jonathan reaches the bar, Steve says something that makes Jonathan scowl immediately.
You can’t hear them from here, but their body language says enough. Steve’s grinning like an asshole. Jonathan’s glaring like he wants to throw him off the roof.
Interesting.
Steve notices you watching before Jonathan does. His eyes lock onto yours. And fuck. There’s something openly hungry in the way he looks at you. Not subtle. Not polite. Just immediate interest. Like he already knows exactly who you are.
Jonathan follows Steve’s gaze and catches you staring. He mutters something under his breath that makes Steve bark out a laugh.
Then both of them start heading back toward you.
Oh, this should be fun.
Steve reaches you first, naturally.
“Steve Harrington,” he says, extending a hand with an easy confidence that feels almost unfair. “Friend of this guy.” He jerks a thumb toward Jonathan without looking away from you.
You take his hand. Warm palm. Strong grip. “I gathered.”
“You say that like he talks about me too much.” Steve’s mouth curls into a grin immediately.
Jonathan nearly chokes on his drink. “Oh my God.”
Your eyebrows lift innocently. “Maybe a little.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jonathan mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can we not do this?”
Steve looks delighted. “No, no, keep going. I’m invested now.”
You laugh into your glass while Jonathan glares at both of you like he regrets inviting himself into existence tonight.
The dynamic between them becomes obvious within minutes. They bicker constantly, but with the kind of rhythm only people deeply familiar with each other have. Steve interrupts Jonathan just to annoy him. Jonathan rolls his eyes so often it becomes almost affectionate.
And underneath it all, there’s something else. Something charged.
Steve touches Jonathan casually when he talks. Shoulder. Wrist. Lower back squeezing past him near the bar. Jonathan pretends to hate it every single time but never actually moves away.
You notice because of course you do. And judging by the way Steve catches you noticing, he knows you notice too.
The conversation loosens with every drink. Steve leans closer when he talks to you, knee brushing yours beneath the cocktail table. Jonathan gets quieter the drunker he gets, but somehow more intense too. His compliments stop sounding accidental.
“You shoot people in a way that feels intimate,” he tells you softly at one point, fingers tapping absently against the side of his glass. “Like the camera’s in love with them.”
Steve groans dramatically beside him, throwing his head back. “Jesus Christ, Byers. See? This is what I mean. You flirt like a nineteenth-century poet.”
Jonathan flips him off without missing a beat. “Eat shit Harrington.”
You laugh so hard champagne nearly comes out your nose.
And God, they’re both gorgeous. Steve all confidence and easy charm and restless hands. Jonathan all restraint and tension and eyes dark enough to drown in. The chemistry between the three of you thickens until it feels almost visible. Every glance lasts too long. Every touch lingers.
At some point Steve’s hand settles casually against the small of your back while Jonathan stands close enough that his shoulder brushes yours every few seconds. Neither of them moves away. Neither do you.
“You know,” you say eventually, tilting your head as you study them over the rim of your drink, “this is getting genuinely unfair.”
Steve smirks immediately, thumb still warm against your spine. “How so?”
“You’re both ridiculously attractive.”
Jonathan nearly chokes on his whiskey. Steve beams like he’s won something.
“I’m serious,” you continue, glancing between them. “I can’t decide which one of you I’d rather take with me.”
Silence.
Jonathan goes very still beside you. Steve’s expression changes instantly, not joking now. Something darker settling into his face.
Then slowly, casually, he says, “who says you have to choose?”
Jonathan stares at him. “Harrington.”
“What?” Steve shrugs, entirely too innocent. “I’m just saying. We’re all having a good time.”
“You are out of your fucking mind.”
“You telling me you haven’t thought about it?” Steve asks, one eyebrow lifting.
Jonathan opens his mouth. Closes it again.
Steve’s grin widens in real time. “Oh my God,” he says. “You have.”
“Shut up.”
You’re trying not to laugh now. Jonathan looks mortified. Steve looks thrilled.
Then Steve turns to you again, gaze dragging slowly over your face. “We could get outta here,” he says lightly, though his voice has gone rough around the edges. “Keep the night going somewhere less crowded.”
Your pulse skips. Jonathan watches you carefully from beside him. Not pushing. Just waiting.
“Only if you want to,” he says quietly. His voice is softer than Steve’s, steadier somehow, but it hits infinitely harder.
That does it. That careful softness in his voice. That look in Steve’s eyes. The electric tension stretching between all three of you like a wire seconds from snapping.
“Yeah,” you say.
Steve immediately pulls out his phone. “Holy shit. She said yes.”
“Don’t make it weird,” Jonathan mutters, already rubbing at his forehead.
“Dude you’re the one making it weird with this shy-nonchalant-mysteious thing going on, man.”
“Fuck you.”
“Hopefully later.”
“Harrington.”
You burst out laughing while Jonathan groans into his drink.
The ride down starts innocently enough. The rooftop elevator is almost empty this late into the night, all mirrored walls and dim golden lighting. The doors slide shut behind the three of you with a soft chime, sealing the noise of the party away instantly.
Silence settles. Heavy silence. The kind where everybody suddenly becomes hyperaware of breathing. Of hands. Of mouths.
Steve stands beside the control panel, phone still in hand after ordering the car. Jonathan’s near the back wall, whiskey-flushed and tense in a way that makes him look dangerously pretty.
And you’re standing between them. The elevator hums downward. Nobody speaks.
Steve breaks first, of course.
“Okay,” he says quietly, glancing between you and Jonathan. “I can’t do this.”
You barely have time to blink before he’s moving. One second there’s space between you. The next his hand is around your waist and his mouth crashes into yours hard enough to steal the air from your lungs. It’s not gentle. It’s heat and impatience.
You gasp against him and Steve takes advantage immediately, kissing you deeper with a rough little sound in his throat like he’s been thinking about this since the second he saw you across the rooftop. His body presses you lightly against the elevator wall. Big hands. Warm whiskey breath. The scrape of expensive suit fabric beneath your fingers.
“Fuck,” Steve murmurs against your mouth, almost laughing from disbelief. “Jesus Christ.”
You kiss him back harder. Somewhere beside you, Jonathan exhales shakily. You pull away from Steve just enough to look at him. Jonathan’s watching like he can’t decide whether to step in or lose his mind.
You make the decision for him. Your hand curls into the front of his shirt, tugging him forward.
Jonathan kisses completely differently. Slower at first. Tentative for all of half a second before restraint snaps clean in two. Then suddenly he’s kissing you like he’s starving. One hand cups your jaw carefully while the other grips your waist hard enough to wrinkle the fabric of your dress. He tastes like whiskey and nerves and something devastatingly soft underneath it all.
Steve stays pressed against your side the entire time. Watching. Breathing hard. His hand slides over your hip possessively while Jonathan kisses you deeper, and the feeling of both of them touching you at once nearly melts your fucking brain.
“Holy shit,” Steve mutters, voice low and wrecked.
Jonathan laughs quietly against your mouth, breathless. “You’re one to talk.”
Then Steve kisses you again. And somehow the three of you end up tangled together in the middle of the elevator, mouths colliding messily between laughter and heat and too much tension finally breaking loose. Steve’s hand cradles the back of your neck while Jonathan’s fingers curl around his wrist.
You feel the exact second the energy shifts. Subtle. Dangerous.
Your mouth parts from Steve’s just long enough to notice the way he’s looking at Jonathan now. Not joking. Not teasing. Something older lives there. Something buried deep. Jonathan sees it too.
The elevator keeps descending. Slowly, carefully, Steve reaches for him. Jonathan doesn’t pull away.
Their kiss starts softer than yours did. Almost hesitant. Then Steve grips Jonathan’s jaw and suddenly it turns hungry fast. Years of unresolved tension flare alive right in front of you. Jonathan makes this quiet wrecked sound into Steve’s mouth that feels almost too intimate to hear. Steve kisses him like he’s furious about how badly he wants him. Like he’s spent years pretending this didn’t exist.
Your back hits the elevator wall softly as you watch them lose themselves in each other for a few perfect seconds. Jonathan’s hand fists in Steve’s suit jacket. Steve’s thumb strokes across Jonathan’s cheekbone almost unconsciously. Beautiful. Achingly, terrifyingly beautiful.
The elevator dings.
The doors slide open with a soft mechanical whisper, spilling the three of you out into the cool marble lobby. Your lips are still tingling from the kiss, legs a little unsteady as Steve keeps one hand firm on your lower back and Jonathan stays close on your other side, his fingers brushing yours like he needs the contact to stay grounded.
The night air hits you the second you push through the glass doors onto the street.
The car Steve had already called is waiting at the curb. He doesn’t hesitate, just walks ahead like it’s the most natural thing in the world, opening the back door first and holding it there. “C’mon,” he says, glancing back at you both.
Jonathan goes in after a beat, still a little dazed, sliding into the far side of the backseat. You follow right after him, slipping into the middle, thighs pressed on either side as the space closes in around you.
Steve ducks in last, shutting the door behind him with a solid click, his hand briefly brushing your shoulder as he settles in on your other side.
The driver glances at you three through the rearview mirror. “Evening. Where to?”
Steve rattles off the address to their shared apartment in a casual tone, already leaning forward a little like he’s settling in for a chat. The car pulls smoothly into traffic.
You shift slightly in your seat, trying not to think too much about how little space there is between the three of you. That’s when your eyes catch the driver’s GPS screen. The route is already calculated. Ten minutes. It hits you almost annoyingly clearly.
Your dress has ridden up just enough that the cool leather seat kisses the backs of your thighs. Steve’s hand finds your knee immediately, innocent enough from the outside. Jonathan shoots him a warning look across you—sharp, dark brows drawn—but Steve just grins that easy, charming grin and starts talking.
“So, uh, how long you been driving nights in the city?” Steve asks the driver, voice light and conversational like he’s not currently sliding his palm higher up your thigh under the hem of your dress. “Must see some wild shit, right?”
The driver chuckles, launching into a story about a fare last week who tried to tip him in cryptocurrency. You barely hear it. Your heart is hammering against your ribs as Steve’s fingers trace slow, teasing circles on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He’s subtle, barely moving, keeping his arm relaxed across the seat like he’s just resting it there. But every brush sends sparks straight to your core.
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your breathing even. Jonathan’s hand settles on your other thigh, possessive but still. He’s glaring at Steve again, a silent stop it in his eyes. But then his gaze drops to your face. Your parted lips, the flush creeping up your neck, and something shifts. His fingers tighten, then start moving too, mirroring Steve’s slow exploration but pressing a little firmer, higher.
Heat floods you. You’re already wet from the elevator, aching, and their hands are so close to where you need them. You shift in the seat, pressing your thighs together instinctively, but that only traps their fingers tighter against you.
Steve keeps talking, voice perfectly steady. “Yeah? Man, that’s crazy. I once got in an Uber where the driver was playing some loud ass classical music at like two in the morning. Didn’t even ask, just… went for it. Honestly kind of respected it.”
The driver laughs again, oblivious. Your hand grips the edge of the seat. Jonathan’s fingers slip under the edge of your panties first, brushing lightly over your slick folds. You stifle a gasp, turning it into a cough. Steve notices and smirks without looking at you, his own fingers joining, parting you gently and circling your clit with maddening softness.
“Everything okay back there?” the driver asks casually.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Steve says smoothly, teasing a finger just inside you while he keeps eye contact in the mirror. “Long night, right babe?”
You swallow hard, throat dry. “Mhm. Just… tired.”
Jonathan leans in slightly, his fingers don’t stop. Two now, pressing deeper, curling just right while Steve focuses on your clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming. Steve’s thicker fingers, rougher calluses, Jonathan’s more precise, sensual strokes. You’re soaked, the wet sounds barely masked by the low hum of the engine and Steve’s endless chatter.
Steve turns his head toward you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, what was that shot you took at the bar earlier? The one with the orange twist? You liked that, right?” His voice is teasing, deliberately pushing you while his fingers move quicker. “Tell this kind driver how much you liked it.”
Your mouth opens, but only a shaky breath comes out. Pleasure coils tight in your belly, thighs trembling. Jonathan saves you, squeezing your thigh gently. “She liked the whiskey sour better,” he says calmly, voice low and steady.
Steve chuckles softly, but he doesn’t stop. Neither does Jonathan. Their hands work in tandem now. Steve rubbing firm circles on your swollen clit while Jonathan thrusts two fingers slowly in and out, curling against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes. You’re fighting every moan, nails digging into the leather seat, hips rocking minutely into their touch. The city lights streak past the windows in blurs of gold and red, but all you can focus on is the building pressure, the slick heat between your legs, the way both of them are rock hard against your sides. You can feel the outline of Steve’s erection pressing into your right thigh, Jonathan’s long length on your left.
By the time the car slows to a stop outside their building, you’re right on the edge, panting quietly through your nose. Steve pays and thanks the driver with a grin, then bolts out first, nearly tripping over the curb in his haste. Jonathan helps you out more gracefully, but his hand lingers on your waist, steadying you on shaky legs.
Steve is already at the building door, fumbling with his keys. They jingle loudly as he drops them once, twice, cursing under his breath. His cheeks are flushed, pants obviously tented. “Fuck—come on—”
Jonathan laughs, a low, warm sound that cuts through the night air. “Smooth, Harrington.” He steps forward, plucks the keys from Steve’s hands, and unlocks the door in one fluid motion. “Let’s get inside before you break something.”
The apartment is dimly lit by a single lamp when you all stumble in. Cozy, with a big sectional couch dominating the living room. Steve kicks the door shut behind you and immediately crowds you against the wall, mouth crashing into yours again. Jonathan presses in from the side, lips finding your neck, hands roaming.
But then Steve pulls back, breathing hard. “Bedroom. Mine.”
Jonathan’s hands pause on your hips. “No. My bed’s bigger.”
Steve groans. “Yours has those creepy horror posters everywhere. The one with the guy’s face melting? Not exactly mood-setting, man.”
Jonathan rolls his eyes, but there’s heat in them. “Your room smells like that cologne you drown yourself in and there’s that ugly picture of a car hanging on the wall. Who the fuck would have a framed photo of a car in first place?”
You laugh breathlessly between them, hands sliding up both their chests. “Living room,” you say breathlessly, grabbing Steve’s shirt and Jonathan’s wrist. “Couch. Right fucking now.”
Neither of them argues.
Steve let out a low chuckle, already shrugging off his jacket. “Bossy. I like it.”
Clothes come off in a messy, desperate rush. Steve’s jacket hits the floor. Your dress pools at your ankles. Jonathan yanks his shirt over his head, revealing that lean, beautifully toned torso. Steve’s fingers work his buttons open, exposing the dark hair on his chest and the tempting happy trail that disappears into his pants, inviting. When their erections spring free, your mouth waters—Steve’s is thick and heavy, flushed dark, while Jonathan’s is long, slightly curved, already leaking at the tip.
You don’t wait. You wrap a hand around each of them, stroking slowly, feeling the contrast in weight and texture.
“God,” you murmur, voice low and hungry. “So fucking hard…”
Steve groans, hips twitching into your fist. “You were so wet and beautiful in the car, baby. Couldn’t help myself.”
Jonathan leans in, kissing you slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours. “You looked so perfect.” he breathes against your lips.
Steve claims your mouth next, rougher, while Jonathan drops his head to suck on your nipple, teeth grazing just enough to make you moan. Their hands are everywhere. Steve’s thick fingers push back inside your soaked pussy, curling perfectly, while Jonathan’s thumb circles your swollen clit with devastating precision.
“Fuck—yes,” you gasp, head falling back. “Just like that—don’t stop.”
You stroke them faster, twisting your wrists, swiping your thumbs over their leaking heads. The sounds they make turn you on even more.
“Keep touching us like that,” Steve mutters against your neck, voice rough. “Your hands feel so fucking good.”
You glanced down, watching their free hands find each other. Steve wrapped his big hand around Jonathan’s erection, stroking him with slow, confident pumps focusing on the base while you worked on their heads. Jonathan did the same to Steve, twisting his wrist just right. The sight made you clench hard around Steve’s fingers.
“Shit, that’s so hot,” you breathed.
Steve kissed you hungrily, then turned his head to capture Jonathan’s mouth over your shoulder in a messy, heated kiss. You kept stroking them, thumbing over their leaking tips, while their fingers worked you open.
You dropped to your knees before they could stop you. You grin, breathless. “I want you both so bad… I can’t decide who to taste first.”
You sink to your knees between them, looking up with dark, eager eyes. You take Steve into your mouth first, stretching your lips wide around his thickness, then turn to Jonathan, taking him deeper, savoring the way his length curves against your tongue. You alternate between them, then press them close together, licking and sucking both erections at once in messy, filthy strokes.
Steve’s hand slides gently into your hair. “Fuck, baby… look at you. Such a greedy, perfect girl for us.”
Jonathan’s voice is rougher than usual. “You look so beautiful like this. Jesus.”
You hum around them, the vibration making both men groan. You keep going until they’re throbbing against your tongue, until their hips start twitching.
They pull you up before either of them finishes.
Jonathan lays you down on the couch first, spreading your thighs wide. He kisses his way down your body with aching reverence—stomach, hips, inner thighs—before his mouth finally finds your pussy. His tongue is broad and slow, licking long stripes through your folds before focusing on your clit. Two fingers slide inside you, curling just right.
You moan loudly, fingers threading through his hair. “Oh my god, Jonathan—”
Steve kneels beside you, kissing you deep and filthy. “Taste so sweet, don’t you, sweetheart? Let him make you come. I want to watch you fall apart.”
The orgasm crashes into you hard. Your back arches, thighs clamping around Jonathan’s head as you cry out, pulsing around his fingers. He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking and oversensitive, whimpering.
Then he positioned himself between your legs again, lining up. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you perfectly.
“Fuck… you’re so tight,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours. “You okay?”
“More,” you gasped, pulling him down to kiss you. “Fuck me, Jonathan. I need it.”
He started moving, deep rolling thrusts that hit every perfect spot. You moaned into his mouth, nails digging into his back.
After a while they switched. Steve flipped you onto your hands and knees, gripping your hips as he pushed inside. The stretch was bigger, deeper.
“Shit, baby,” he grunted. “You’re gripping me so fucking tight.”
You pushed back against him. “Harder, Steve. I can take it. Please.”
He did. One hand reaching around to rub your clit. Jonathan knelt in front of you, feeding you his cock. You sucked him eagerly, moaning around his length every time Steve thrust deep.
They leaned over you, kissing each other sloppily above your back, the wet sounds mixing with skin slapping and your muffled moans.
You came again hard, clenching around Steve’s erection while Jonathan’s length twitched on your tongue.
They moved you again, laying you on your side. Jonathan spooned you from behind, sliding back in with a low groan, kissing your neck and shoulder as he thrust deep and slow.
“You feel incredible,” he whispered against your skin. “So warm and wet. Taking me so well, baby.”
Steve faced you, kissing you deeply, his thick erection sliding against your clit with every movement until he couldn’t wait anymore. He pushed back inside you when Jonathan pulled out, rougher, gripping your ass.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Steve growled. “Give us another one. Let me feel you come on my cock.”
You were shaking, overstimulated and desperate. “I’m close—fuck, I’m so close—”
Jonathan reached between you, rubbing your already hypersensitive clit. “That’s it. Come for us, beautiful.”
You shattered again, crying out their names.
Finally, they put you on your back once more. Steve slid back inside you, groaning at how wet and open you were.
“Gonna fill you up, baby,” he panted, thrusting deep. “You want that? Want my cum deep in this pretty pussy?”
“Yes,” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulders. “Fill me up, Steve. Please.”
Jonathan stroked himself faster, leaning down to kiss you messily.
Steve came first, burying himself deep with a broken moan, flooding you with hot spurts. At the same time, Jonathan groaned, painting your breasts and stomach with thick ropes of cum.
The three of you collapsed together, breathing hard.
Steve kissed your forehead, then your lips, soft and sweet. “You were fucking incredible.”
Jonathan nuzzled into your neck from the other side. “You okay? We didn’t go too hard?”
“I’m perfect,” you whispered, smiling lazily. “I’ve never felt so good in my life.”
After a moment, gentle hands take care of you. Steve grabs a warm cloth and cleans you up carefully. Jonathan brings cold water from the fridge and makes you drink. Then they pull a soft blanket over all three of you on the big couch.
A couple of minutes later, Steve sat up slightly. “I’ll get her my shirt, wait” he said quietly.
Jonathan lifted his head. “Mine's softer. She should wear mine.”
Steve raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Yours is all wrinkled on the floor. Mine’s a nice dress shirt. It’ll be more comfortable for her right now.”
“It’s also stiffer,” Jonathan argued softly. “She needs something actually soft on her skin right now man.”
You let out a tired, amused laugh and tugged gently on both their arms. “You two are already fighting again… I kind of love it. But seriously, either shirt is fine. I just want to feel both of you close.”
Steve grinned. “See? She wants the nice shirt.”
Jonathan rolled his eyes but smiled. “She didn’t say that, but, man, whatever, Jesus… next time I’m picking first.”
“Next time?” you teased weakly, voice sleepy.
“Yeah,” they both answered at the same time, then looked at each other and chuckled.
Steve grabbed his button-down from the floor and helped you slip it on. It was big, warm, and still carried his scent. Jonathan tucked the blanket tighter around all three of you.
“Stay right here with us tonight,” Steve murmured, thumb stroking your cheek.
Jonathan pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “We’ve got you, baby. Get some sleep, yeah?”
Safe between their warm bodies, you drifted off with the taste of them still on your tongue.
author's note: i hope you enjoyed my fic ! If so, reblog, comment or share please 🫶🏻 it motivates me to write more !
conflict resolution - walter ‘keys’ mckey
⏻ 01. welcome to soonami - 7.7k
“You’ve known me for, what, twenty minutes?”
“And I already have you figured out.”
pairing: keys mckey x fem!reader
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
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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.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ .
By lunchtime, you’ve learned five things.
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.
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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.
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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.
Temporary apartment. Temporary roommate. Temporary chaos.
But the job? That part matters. And tomorrow, you’re going to make sure nobody forgets it.
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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.
comment to be on taglist!
reblogs and reposts are appreciated as always, thank you.
@skkeletonns @tiredpurplee @adaydreamaway30 @ellasaddiction2 @djopug007 @roddyincowgirlboots @mysticbellie @tator-gilman @clarksgf @djopuppy @tenderlyuniquepatrol @decidessrun @swirledyouintoallmypoems @madsapplejuice @r-jj09 @amy-brooklyn99 @biologicallyyours @drifting-daydream @djocufics
conflict resolution - walter ‘keys’ mckey
“do you ever shut up?”
“not when i’m winning.”
pairing: keys x fem!reader
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: slow burn, forced proximity, enemy coworkers/roommates, workplace rivalry, arguments, profanity, smoking, mutual pining, jealousy, emotional conflict, domestic tension, suggestive touching, smut (will be warned), emotionally repressed people pretending they don’t care about each other when they very obviously do..
an: helloo, i’m so excited for you all to read this keys series i have planned. i’ve been so keyspilled recently so this has just been so easy to write. updates might be a little chaotic depending on my schedule, but i’m genuinely so excited for this story and all the little moments i have planned for them. arguments, tension, domestic stuff, yearning, emotional damage.
a very special thank you to juls, sierra, and ani for genuinely being the sweetest people ever throughout all of this. ani is literally the reason this story even exists because she brought me the original idea and somehow altered my brain chemistry with it. thank you for giving me suggestions, helping me figure things out, and always being people i can run to whenever inspiration hits. i genuinely don’t think this story would feel the same without all of your excitement and support behind it <3
masterlist
⏻ 0.1 welcome to soonami
comment to be added to taglist
Temporary Fix | Steve Harrington
Chapter Fifteen - Worth The Risk
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
warnings: language, sexual context, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, heavy makeout, grinding, oral teasing, praise, slight possesiveness, emotional vulnerability, fear??, billy mention ew, readerxsteve tension aweh, almost caught scene, reader and steve cannot act normal for the whole chapter pls
word count: 6.9k words
series masterlist
summary: you and steve were friends first, and that was the part that mattered. everything else, the late nights, the quiet routine, the way he kept showing up, didn't mean anything. it was easy. something the two of you fell into without really thinking about it. something that didn't need to be explained. because as long as it stayed like this, nothing had to change. right?
an: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE.. it's nearly gonna be two weeks since the last time i updated and omg. school and work have been kicking my ass. but i decided to feed you all with smut. mwah
reblogs are appreciated <3
🎧
there is a light that never goes out - the smiths
sara - fleetwood mac
kiss me - sixpence none the richer
lovesong - the cure
crazy for you - madonna
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You adjusted your bag higher on your shoulder as you walked in, still a little tired despite how long you spent getting ready. Longer than usual, actually. You changed outfits twice. Fixed your hair, messed it up again, fixed it again. Which was stupid, it was work with your friends. Robin was already there, sitting on top of the desk near the sound booth with her legs crossed, lazily spinning a pen between her fingers while she skimmed through paperwork she definitely wasn’t reading.
She looked up the second you walked in. Then narrowed her eyes slightly. “…oh, you tried today.”
You rolled your eyes immediately, setting your bag down beside your chair. “Good morning to you too.”
“I’m serious,” she said, hopping down from the desk. “You changed your earrings.”
Your hand instinctively lifted toward them. “You are deeply creepy.”
“And you curled your hair a little.”
“Robin.”
“And that top is definitely not accidental.”
You stared at her flatly. “You literally need a job.”
“I had one,” she shot back. “Keith spiritually destroyed me.”
You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head as you reached for the coffee pot near the desk. Before you could answer, the station door opened behind you. And immediately, without meaning to, you turned.
Steve stepped inside carrying two coffees in one hand and a paper bag folded at the top in the other. The bruising on his face had darkened overnight, sharp against his skin now, the cut on his lip more noticeable in the daylight. But he still looked unfairly good somehow. Hair fixed, sleeves pushed up slightly, rings catching briefly under the fluorescent lights when he adjusted his grip on the drinks. His eyes found yours instantly. It was ridiculous how obvious it felt now. You watched his expression soften almost immediately when he saw you standing there. Then his gaze flicked over you properly.
“…hey,” he said.
Your stomach flipped hard enough to annoy you. “Hey.”
Robin looked between both of you slowly before muttering, “Jesus Christ,” under her breath.
Steve walked over and held one of the coffees out toward you. “Got yours too.”
You took it carefully, your fingers brushing his for half a second. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
You glanced down at the cup. “You remembered?”
“You literally get the same thing every time,” he said easily. Then, after a second, “Extra sugar. Not too much cream.”
Your eyes lifted back to his immediately.
Steve shrugged slightly like it wasn’t a big deal, but you caught the faint pink creeping up the back of his neck anyway.
Robin made the most dramatic fake gagging sound you’d ever heard in your life. “Oh my god,” she groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You two are gonna make this place unbearable now, huh?”
“We’re literally standing here,” you said.
“Exactly. And somehow it’s already too much.”
Steve laughed quietly under his breath, finally looking away from you long enough to hand Robin the paper bag. “I brought food."
Robin took it instantly. “Nevermind. I support whatever this is.”
“Traitor,” you muttered.
Steve snorted softly at that, leaning back against the edge of the desk while Robin immediately dug through the bag like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. The station settled back into its usual rhythm around you after that. Music low through the speakers, somebody in the production room cursing at a cassette deck. Phones ringing once, then stopping. Robin had already settled onto one of the stools beside the desk with her breakfast, flipping through a stack of CDs while she ate.
Your knee brushed his lightly beneath the counter when you shifted and neither of you moved away this time. Then the front door slammed open hard enough to rattle the glass.
Robin was halfway through stealing food out of the box when the front door suddenly swung open hard enough to make the little bell above it rattle.
“—I’m literally saying we got lost because nobody listens to me,” Eddie was arguing as he walked in first, pushing his hair back out of his face dramatically. “I said left.”
“You said ‘wait maybe left,’” Nancy corrected behind him calmly.
“That’s still leadership.”
Jonathan followed them in carrying a stack of tapes against his chest, looking tired enough to walk directly into a wall.
Robin immediately pointed at all three of them. “Late.”
Eddie dropped into one of the rolling chairs beside the desk. “Good morning to you too, sweetheart."
Steve laughed quietly beside you at that while you took another sip of coffee, watching the room slowly come alive around you. Nancy dropped her bag onto the counter and immediately started sorting through paperwork like she’d been awake for six hours already. Then her eyes flicked toward Steve.
She paused slightly. “…Jesus,” she muttered. “Your face looks worse today.”
Steve sighed deeply. “You guys are making me feel incredible this morning.”
Jonathan winced sympathetically. “Billy really got you.”
At the mention of his name, Steve’s jaw tightened almost automatically beside you. His fingers flexed once around the coffee cup in his hand before relaxing again. The room settled after that into overlapping conversation and movement. Robin arguing with Eddie over music choices. Jonathan organizing tapes near the sound booth. Nancy flipping through notes for the morning schedule.
Besides you, Steve kept ending up close without really trying to. Every time the room shifted, somehow he was still near you. Leaning beside the same counter, reaching around you for a cassette, standing close enough that his shoulder brushed yours every once in a while when someone walked past too fast.
Robin tossed another cassette onto the desk carelessly before glancing toward Steve again. “By the way,” she said casually, “Keith called me yesterday asking if I’d reconsider quitting.”
Eddie barked out a laugh immediately. “Desperate already?”
“He offered me a raise.”
Steve looked genuinely shocked. “Wait, seriously?”
“Mmhm.”
“…how much?”
Robin took a slow sip of coffee. “Twenty-five cents.”
The entire room groaned at once.
Jonathan looked horrified. “That’s insulting.”
“Thank you,” Robin said.
Steve shook his head, laughing quietly. “You should’ve asked for emotional damages too.”
“I tried. He said no.”
“You deserve better.”
Robin pointed at him immediately. “Exactly. Which is why you should quit too.”
Steve leaned back slightly against the counter beside you. “Can’t.”
Nancy glanced up from the paperwork. “Still saving?”
He nodded once. “Yeah. Trying to.”
One minute everyone was still half asleep, leaning against counters with coffee cups in their hands, and the next Robin was throwing her headphones on and pointing aggressively toward the control room like a drill sergeant waking up an army. The morning show officially kicked off a few minutes later with the familiar low buzz of equipment filling the station. Red lights flicked on across the boards. Music faded in through the speakers overhead while Robin settled comfortably into her chair in front of the microphone like she belonged there more than anywhere else.
Steve moved naturally around the soundboard beside her, one hand sliding over switches and dials. Even bruised and exhausted, he still had this quiet confidence whenever he worked the boards, cueing songs at the exact right second, cutting dead air before it could settle, tossing in stupid little sound effects whenever Robin started getting too dramatic on-air.
“You are listening to the lovely, talented, severely tired Robin Buckley on WSQK—”
Steve immediately hit a loud game show buzzer through the speakers.
Robin gasped into the mic. “Wow. Sabotage.”
“Lying on-air is illegal,” Steve said flatly into his own headset.
Jonathan snorted from across the room without even looking up from the tapes he was organizing. Callers started rolling in not long after the first set went live. Mostly teenagers asking for songs. A few adults complaining about music being too loud this early in the morning. One older guy accidentally called the station instead of a hardware store and somehow stayed on the line for five whole minutes anyway because Robin refused to hang up on him.
“No, because now I wanna know more about the lawnmower problem,” she whispered while Steve physically dragged the headset cord away from her before she could keep talking.
Eddie nearly fell out of his chair laughing.
You stayed near the side desk for most of it, flipping lazily through records and station notes while watching everything unfold around you. Nancy handled scheduling like she was trying to stop the building from collapsing. Jonathan floated quietly wherever somebody needed help. Eddie contributed absolutely nothing except commentary and occasional theft of everyone’s food.
At some point, the station got loud enough that you stopped really hearing any of it individually. Robin arguing with callers over music choices. Eddie talking over literally everyone in the room. Jonathan asking Nancy something from across the hall. The constant hum of tapes rewinding and buttons clicking and phones ringing every few minutes. It all blended together into one steady wall of noise. And for some reason, you suddenly needed a second away from the chaos.
So while Robin and Eddie started loudly arguing over whether The Cure counted as depressing enough for morning radio, you slipped quietly away from the desk with your coffee in hand. The hallway outside the station felt immediately quieter, the music muffled once the door swung shut behind you. The basement wasn’t really a basement anymore. A hangout room hidden underneath the station where everyone ended up eventually. Dim lamps instead of overhead lights. Old rugs layered across the floor. Posters covering almost every inch of wall space. Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, The Smiths, Blondie, Talking Heads. A faded Pink Floyd poster hung crooked near the piano in the corner. The room always smelled faintly like dust, old vinyl sleeves, coffee, and incense.
A beat-up couch sat near the center of the room surrounded by stacks of records and cassette cases. Somebody had left a guitar leaning against the armrest beside an ashtray full of guitar picks. The upright piano against the far wall had chipped keys and cigarette burns on the wood. The lighting stayed low no matter what time of day it was. Little amber lamps tucked into corners. You sank into the couch with a quiet sigh, curling one leg underneath yourself while your coffee warmed your hands. You tipped your head back against the couch cushions and stared up at the dim string lights overhead.
You sat curled into the corner of the couch for a while with one leg tucked underneath yourself, staring lazily at the string lights stretched across the ceiling beams. The amber glow from the lamps made everything look warmer than it actually was. The records stacked beside the couch cast crooked shadows across the rug. Somewhere in the room, incense still lingered faintly in the air from the night before.
“You okay?”
Your eyes snapped open immediately. Steve stood near the bottom of the stairs now, one hand still resting lightly against the railing like he’d only just come down.
“You scared the shit out of me,” you said, sitting up slightly.
A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“…little bit.”
You rolled your eyes softly, but the smile threatening at your mouth ruined the effect completely.
Steve glanced around the room once before looking back at you. “Robin said you disappeared.”
“She noticed?”
“She notices everything.”
“…unfortunate trait.”
He snorted quietly at that before walking further into the room. “You hiding down here?” he asked.
You shrugged lightly, fingers tightening slightly around the coffee cup. “Needed a minute.”
His eyes stayed on you for half a second longer, understanding immediately. “Too loud upstairs?” he asked.
“Too everything.”
That got the faintest smile out of him. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I get that.” You watched him move around the room for a second after that. His fingers absentmindedly brushed across the top of the upright piano as he passed it. He glanced at the records stacked beside the couch. Then eventually he ended up near the couch too, resting his forearms lightly against the back of it instead of sitting immediately. Close enough now that you could smell his cologne faintly underneath the coffee and dust in the room.
“You could’ve stayed upstairs,” you said quietly.
His eyes flicked back to yours. “I know,” he answered.
You swallowed once, suddenly hyperaware of the space between you. You glanced down for half a second, then back up at him again before you could stop yourself. “…thank you,” you said quietly.
His brows pulled together slightly. “For what?”
“For checking on me.”
“Course I did,” he said, like it wasn’t even a question.
Steve’s gaze dropped briefly to your hands, then back to your face again. You could practically feel the way he was trying to hold himself back from saying, or even doing more. Upstairs, muffled laughter echoed faintly through the ceiling. Somebody yelled Eddie’s name, music skipped for half a second before starting again.
Your eyes drifted to his mouth for half a second before you caught yourself and looked away immediately. Your pulse started pounding hard enough you were sure he could hear it. Steve pushed himself off the back of the couch slowly this time, like he was giving you every chance to pull away before he got closer, but you didn’t. He stepped around the couch carefully, stopping right beside where you sat curled into the cushions. Close enough now that your knee brushed lightly against his thigh when he moved.
Your breath caught quietly in your throat.“Steve,” you whispered. You didn’t even know what you meant by it. Maybe just his name because it was the only thing your brain could hold onto right now.
His hand came up slowly, careful where it brushed against your jaw, fingertips warm against your skin. Your entire body went still underneath it. “You know you drive me insane, right?” he said softly.
The smallest laugh almost escaped you at the worst possible time. “…you like it,” you whispered back.
That finally pulled a real smile out of him.“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I really do.” And then he looked at your mouth again.
Steve’s hand stayed gentle against your face as he leaned down. You barely even breathed, then his mouth touched yours. Your fingers tightened instinctively around the front of his shirt the second he kissed you back deeper, and Steve let out the quietest breath against your mouth like it almost caught him off guard too.
Steve pulled back first just enough to breathe. His forehead stayed close to yours, his hand still warm against your jaw. Your fingers were still twisted in the front of his shirt, holding onto him without even realizing it. And then he smiled, just a disbelieving grin.
Your cheeks warmed immediately. “Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered, breathless.
“Like what?” he asked quietly, even though he knew exactly what he was doing now.
“That.”
The grin only spread a little more. “You kissed me back,” he said softly, like he was still processing it.
You rolled your eyes weakly, trying to look annoyed while your entire body betrayed you. “Steve—”
“No, seriously,” he laughed under his breath. “You actually—”
You grabbed the front of his shirt tighter and kissed him again before he could finish the sentence. Steve made this quiet sound against your mouth, surprised for half a second before his hands found you again fast, one sliding from your jaw down to your waist as he kissed you back harder this time. His hand tightened slightly at your waist when you shifted closer instinctively, your knees pressing into the couch cushions beside him. The kiss deepened again, slower and messier now, all the tension from the last few weeks finally collapsing into something neither of you knew how to stop.
“Fuck,” Steve breathed against your mouth for half a second, laughing quietly like he was overwhelmed by you. “C’mere.”
Before you could even ask what he meant, his hands were already guiding you forward carefully, pulling you fully across his lap while he dropped back onto the couch cushions underneath you. Steve’s hands settled at your hips automatically like they belonged there, steadying you while you pushed your fingers into his hair and kissed him again. His head tipped back slightly against the couch as you moved against him, and the quiet sound he made at that almost knocked the air out of your lungs. One of his hands slid up your back slowly underneath the thin fabric of your tank top, warm fingertips brushing your skin carefully enough to make your entire body shiver.
Your hips moved before you even thought about it, just a small roll against his lap while your fingers stayed tangled in his hair. Steve’s breath hitched against your mouth, and his hands tightened on your waist immediately.
“Shit,” he whispered, barely audible.
You did it again, slower this time, grinding down against him through your jeans. You could feel him hardening underneath you, pressing up against the heat between your thighs, and the friction sent a spark through your whole body. Steve’s head fell back against the couch cushion, his jaw going slack for a second before he looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes.
“You trying to kill me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough.
You didn’t answer. You just rolled your hips again, harder this time, and Steve let out a shaky exhale that was almost a moan. His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips through your jeans, guiding you as you found a rhythm against him.
The couch creaked underneath you both, and Steve froze for a second. You both looked up toward the ceiling, listening. Footsteps moved around upstairs, muffled laughter from above.
You pressed your forehead against his and let out a quiet, shaky breath. “They can’t hear us.”
Steve’s hands slid down to your ass, gripping hard. “They better not,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I’m not stopping.”
Your hips kept moving, grinding against his cock through two layers of denim. The pressure built slow and hot, your clit rubbing against the seam of your jeans every time you rolled forward. Steve’s breathing got heavier, his chest rising and falling fast underneath you. He pulled your tank top up, exposing your stomach, and ran his palms up your bare sides.
“Need you closer,” he breathed.
You leaned forward, pressing your chest against his, and your mouth found his ear. You licked along the shell of it slowly, deliberately, before taking his earlobe between your teeth and pulling gently. Steve shuddered underneath you, his cock twitching against your heat.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
You bit down a little harder, then let go and dragged your tongue along the same spot. You rolled your hips in a slow circle while your mouth hovered right next to his ear.
“You like that?” you whispered.
He nodded, eyes closed, lips parted.
“Yeah,” you breathed against his ear, grinding down on him nice and slow. “You’re so hard for me, Steve.”
He groaned quietly, his hands gripping your hips harder, pushing you down onto him with more pressure. You pulled back just enough to look at him, a little smirk on your lips. Steve’s eyes went dark. He sat up fast, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you onto your back on the couch before you could react. His body pressed down on top of yours, his hips settling between your thighs, and the weight of him made your breath catch.
He ground against you hard, his cock pressing right against your clit through both your clothes. Your head fell back as a moan almost slipped out, and you caught it at the last second, biting your lip so hard you tasted copper. Steve’s mouth found your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin just below your ear.
“Quiet,” he whispered against your throat. “Remember?”
You nodded, breathless, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He kept grinding into you, faster now, rougher. The friction was almost unbearable, your pussy aching and wet, desperate for more than just denim separating you. Steve’s breathing was ragged against your neck, his hips moving in a desperate rhythm.
With no hesitation, Steve started pulling off your jeans and panties in one rough motion. His own followed seconds later, his cock releasing from his boxers, free, hard and leaking. He crawled over you, positioning himself at your entrance, and paused.
“You sure?”
You grabbed his face and kissed him hard. “Fuck me.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, your back arching as he filled you completely. Your mouth fell open, and he covered it with his hand gently.
“Shh,” he breathed, his forehead against yours. “I know. I know.”
He started moving, slow deep thrusts that hit exactly where you needed him. Your moans came out muffled against his hand, your nails raking down his back as his pace picked up. He fucked you harder, faster, the couch creaking underneath you both. You bit his shoulder to keep quiet, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. His hand left your mouth and found your clit, rubbing tight circles as he fucked you.
“That’s it,” he breathed, his voice wrecked. “God, you feel so good.”
He kept the same rhythm—deep, steady thrusts, his thumb pressing firm circles on your clit. The pressure built, your stomach tightening, your toes curling. You were so close, right on the edge, and Steve could feel it. Your walls fluttered around him, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps behind your hand. You grabbed his wrist, stilling his hand. Steve, froze, confusion flickering across his face.
“What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, pulling his hand away from your clit. “Not yet. I’m not done with you.”
A slow grin spread across his lips. “Yeah?”
You pushed against his chest, and he got the hint, rolling off you and onto his back. You straddled him in one motion, your knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips. His cock stood wet and hard between you, glistening from being inside you.
You reached down and wrapped your hand around the base, guiding the tip to your entrance. You sank down slowly, watching his face the whole time. His jaw went slack, his eyes rolling back as you took him inch by inch.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his hands flying to your hips. “You’re so tight.”
You sat there for a second, fully seated, letting yourself adjust. He filled you completely, stretching you in the best way. You clenched around him involuntarily, and
Steve let out a shaky breath. “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna last,” he warned.
You leaned forward, your chest brushing against his, and brought your mouth to his ear. You bit his earlobe gently, tugged, then licked the shell of his ear.
“Then don’t,” you whispered. “Cum inside me. But I’m not done yet—you better keep going after.”
He groaned, his hips twitching underneath you. “Mm baby.”
You smiled against his ear, then started moving. Slow at first, rocking your hips in a lazy circle, grinding down on him. His hands roamed your back, your ass, pulling you tighter against him. The angle was perfect, his cock hitting deep, rubbing against that spot inside you that made your vision blur.
You sped up, bouncing on him now, your thighs burning. The couch creaked loudly and you both froze, listening. Footsteps passed the door. Someone laughed. Then the footsteps faded.
Steve let out a quiet laugh. “We’re gonna get caught.”
“Then be quiet,” you whispered, and started moving again, faster.
You rode him harder, your breathing ragged, your hands braced on his chest. Steve’s head tipped back, his mouth open, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you knew there’d be bruises.
“You feel so fucking good,” he breathed, barely audible. “Your pussy’s gripping me so-.”
You slowed down, just to torture him. You rolled your hips in a slow, deep wave, watching his face twist in frustration.
“Not yet,” you said, your voice low.
His eyes snapped open, dark and hungry.
“I need to feel you cum on my cock.”
You started moving again, hard and fast, bouncing on him. Your clit rubbed against him every time you came down, that pressure on your clit—pushed you right back to the edge.
Steve’s hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again, pressing and rubbing in tight circles as you rode him.
“Cum for me,” he whispered, his voice desperate. “I can feel you—you’re so close. Let go. I’ve got you.”
Your hips stuttered, your rhythm breaking as the orgasm crashed over you. You bit down on his shoulder to muffle the scream that wanted to tear out of your throat. Your body convulsed around him, your pussy clenching and pulsing. Steve groaned low in his chest, his hips bucking up into you as he came, hot and deep. His hands gripped your ass, holding you down on him as he pumped his release into you, both of you trembling and sweaty and completely fucked out.
You collapsed onto his chest, your face buried in his neck. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. Your breathing slowly steadied together. After a long minute, you felt his lips press a soft kiss to the top of your head.
The room stayed dim and quiet around you, the low amber light catching against the scattered records and rumpled couch cushions while your breathing slowly settled together. Somewhere upstairs, muffled laughter carried faintly through the ceiling again, music bleeding softly through the floorboards, but it felt far away now. Steve’s hand moved slowly up and down your back. Your cheek stayed pressed against his neck, your body still half draped over his while his chest rose and fell underneath you. You could feel his heartbeat slowing down little by little.
A comfortable silence settled over both of you after that, heavy in the best way. Neither of you seemed in a hurry to move. The basement lights stayed low around you, casting everything gold and soft, the room looking even messier now than it had before. Your pants somewhere near the piano bench. Steve’s shoved halfway off the couch. One of the couch cushions crooked from where you’d practically knocked it loose.
You let out a quiet laugh against his skin.
Steve’s hand paused slightly against your back. “…what?”
You shook your head immediately, smiling into his neck. “Nothing.”
“That’s never true.”
“It is this time.”
He huffed softly, his chest vibrating underneath you. “Liar.”
You tilted your head just enough to look up at him, and the second your eyes met his again, something shifted in his expression. His hair messy, lips swollen, bruises still scattered across his face. Somehow he looked both exhausted and happier than you’d seen him in weeks.
Your stomach flipped all over again.
His thumb brushed lightly against your side. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
You nodded once against him. “…yeah.”
“Yeah?” he asked again, softer this time.
You smiled a little. “Yeah.”
The basement door upstairs creaked open.
“Hello?” Eddie’s voice echoed faintly down the stairwell. “Why is it suspiciously quiet down here?”
Both of you froze instantly, your eyes widened.
Steve went completely still underneath you before muttering, “Oh, shit.”
“Oh my god,” you whispered harshly, suddenly scrambling upright so fast you nearly elbowed him in the jaw.
“OW—fuck—careful,” Steve hissed quietly, grabbing at your waist before you fully launched yourself off the couch.
“Sorry—sorry—” you whisper-yelled back, already reaching wildly for your shirt somewhere near the floor.
“Guys?” Robin called now, way closer. “Are you down here or did Eddie hallucinate?”
“I HEARD BREATHING,” Eddie defended somewhere above.
You found your jeans crumpled near the couch leg and yanked them on in record time while Steve practically dove for his shirt off the floor. Everything immediately became chaos. Steve trying to pull jeans on too fast and nearly falling back into the couch. You trying to fix your hair with trembling hands while simultaneously searching for one shoe.
“Why are we panicking?” Steve whispered frantically while absolutely panicking.
“Because they’re literally coming downstairs!”
“Okay, I don’t care.”
The basement stairs creaked loudly.
“Steve?” Jonathan called carefully now. “You guys good?”
Steve grabbed the nearest couch pillow and threw it directly onto the very obvious mess beside you.
You stared at him. “…really?” you whispered.
“I’m improvising!”
Your eyes widened immediately before you practically lunged forward, grabbing Steve by the front of his shirt and yanking him down onto the couch beside you hard enough to make him let out a surprised noise. The basement door swung open. Robin stopped mid-step instantly. Eddie nearly walked directly into her back. You sat there way too casually on the couch, breathing still uneven, coffee table crooked, Steve beside you looking like he got hit by both Billy and a tornado.
Robin’s eyes narrowed immediately. “…why do you both look guilty?” she asked slowly.
“No reason,” you answered way too fast.
Steve nodded at the exact same time. “None.”
Eddie looked between both of you once, down at the floor, to the crooked couch cushions, Steve’s inside-out shirt. A slow grin spread across his face.
“Ohhhhhhh my god.”
Your stomach dropped immediately.
Robin’s eyes widened a fraction. “Wait.”
“No,” Steve said instantly.
“Yes,” Eddie said at the exact same time.
Jonathan looked genuinely alarmed. “What happened down here?”
“Nothing happened,” you said way too quickly.
“Literally nothing,” Steve added.
Eddie pointed at him immediately. “Your shirt is inside out.”
Steve froze, you turned to look at him.
His eyes widened in horror. “…fuck.”
Robin made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and genuine disbelief. “STEVE.”
He yanked the collar away from his chest to look down at himself like maybe reality would change if he checked hard enough. It did not.
“Okay, wait,” you cut in immediately, sitting forward way too fast. “It’s not what you think.”
Eddie gasped dramatically. “Oh my god, it’s exactly what I think.”
“No!” you insisted.
Steve nodded aggressively beside you. “No, yeah. No.”
Robin crossed her arms slowly. “Then explain the couch.”
Your eyes flicked toward the absolutely destroyed cushions.
“…we were fixing it,” you answered.
Jonathan blinked. “Fixing it.”
“Yeah,” Steve jumped in immediately. “It was uneven.”
Eddie stared at both of you in complete silence.
“…you’re telling me,” he started slowly, “you snuck away together into a dimly lit basement to discuss furniture structure."
“Yes,” you said instantly.
“Correct,” Steve added.
Robin looked at the couch, then at Steve’s swollen mouth, then at your completely wrecked hair. “…right,” she said flatly.
“The posters!” you blurted out suddenly.
Everybody looked at you. You pointed wildly toward the wall beside the piano. “We were talking about the posters.”
Steve turned toward you so fast you almost heard his neck crack. “The posters,” he repeated immediately. “Yes. Exactly.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes. “What about them.”Your brain scrambled desperately for survival.“…ranking them,” you said.
Robin blinked slowly. “Ranking them.”
“Yes,” Steve said, somehow fully committing now. “Like. Artistically.”
Jonathan looked genuinely confused. “Artistically.”
“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “Like—best composition. Color balance. Emotional impact.”
Eddie stared at him. “…you sound insane right now.”
“We got passionate,” you added weakly.
Steve pointed at the Bowie poster immediately like his life depended on it. “You’re telling me that isn’t top three?”
“TOP THREE?” you shot back automatically, finally understanding the assignment. “That poster is literally peeling off the wall.”
“That’s part of the aesthetic!”
“It looks haunted!”
Robin physically had to turn away because she started laughing too hard.
Eddie looked between both of you again, slowly. Then he pointed dramatically. “You know what? I believe them.”\
Robin started backing toward the stairs slowly, pointing at Steve as she went. “Fix your shirt.”
Steve looked down immediately and cursed under his breath while everybody else started laughing.
You pressed your lips together hard trying not to laugh too.
“Catch up in a minute?” you asked quickly.
Robin’s eyes narrowed once more, suspicious but exhausted now. “…sure.”
“We’ll survive without your deeply intellectual poster debate,” Eddie added.
“Barely,” Steve muttered.
The group slowly disappeared back upstairs one by one, their voices fading up the stairwell until the basement door finally swung shut again. You laughed, head falling back against the couch while Steve watched you with the same stupid grin that kept ruining him all day. “…you are so annoying,” you breathed out finally.
Steve sat forward slowly, still smiling. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“You literally almost tackled me.”
“Because you threw a pillow over our clothes like that was gonna solve anything!"
“It was a strategy.”
“It was the worst strategy I’ve ever seen.”
Steve laughed quietly under his breath, shaking his head once before his eyes settled back on you again.
Your smile faded slower this time. “So,” you said quietly, still catching your breath a little, “do you ever shut up?”
“…no,” he admitted. And before you could answer, he leaned forward and kissed you again. Your hand caught automatically at the front of his shirt as he pulled you closer against him, his laugh disappearing into your mouth when you kissed him back immediately.
“See?” he murmured against your mouth between kisses. “You like when I talk.”
You rolled your eyes weakly against his lips. “You’re unbearable.”
“Yeah,” he breathed, kissing you again anyway. “Still here though.”
Your fingers pushed into his hair again and Steve made that same quiet sound against your mouth that completely destroyed your ability to think.
The basement stairs creaked under your shoes as you followed Steve back upstairs, still trying to steady your breathing enough to look normal. Which was difficult considering every time you glanced at him, he looked like he was seconds away from laughing or kissing you again. The second you stepped back into the station, the noise hit all over again. Music humming low through the speakers. Phones ringing. Somebody arguing about cassette labels near the production room.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur after that. Music hummed low through the station speakers, phones rang every few minutes, Robin argued with callers like it was a competitive sport, and somehow you and Steve kept ending up beside each other no matter where either of you moved. It wasn’t even intentional anymore. Somebody needed tapes from storage? Steve looked at you first. Robin asked who wanted coffee? She automatically counted both of you in the same sentence. But enough that every once in a while you’d catch yourself realizing how natural it all suddenly felt.
By the time the station finally started slowing down, the sky outside had already turned darker blue, the windows reflecting more of the room back than the city beyond them. Eddie and Jonathan had left first after stealing half the vending machine snacks. Nancy disappeared not long after with an armful of folders tucked against her chest. Robin stayed the longest, rolling lazily back and forth in her chair near the soundboard before eventually standing with a dramatic groan.
Robin grabbed her bag from beside the soundboard, sliding the strap over her shoulder while the station hummed quietly around you. “Alright,” she said, glancing between you and Steve for half a second too long, “I’m leaving, long day.”
Steve looked up from the stack of tapes in his hands. “Long day?”
Robin gave him a flat look. “Yes.” “Just lock up before you both leave please.”
The door swung shut behind her, leaving the station quieter than before. Music still played softly overhead, low enough now that you could hear the faint buzz of equipment underneath it.
You adjusted the strap of your bag slightly against your shoulder, trying to look more unaffected than you felt. “So…” you started quietly.
Steve hummed softly. “So?”
Your eyes flicked away for half a second before finding him again. “…we’re still doing Tuesday?” The second the question left your mouth, you hated how vulnerable it sounded.
“Of course we are,” he said immediately.
Your chest tightened a little at how fast he answered.
Steve took a step closer without even realizing he was doing it. “Why wouldn’t we?”
You shrugged lightly, fingers tightening a little around your bag strap. “I dunno. Today was just…” You let out a small breath. “A lot.”
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth then. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Good lot though.”
You looked down briefly, trying to hide your smile, but Steve caught it anyway. One hand settled lightly against your waist, pulling you the smallest bit toward him. Your breath caught immediately. Steve watched your face for half a second like he was checking whether you’d pull away. His head dipped slowly, mouth brushing against your jaw first before pressing softer against the side of your neck. The second his lips touched your skin, your entire body went warm.
“Steve—”
He hummed softly against your neck like he liked hearing his name like that. His hand slid lower along your side before settling carefully against your thigh, fingers spreading lightly there.
Steve kissed your neck again slower this time, lingering just enough to make your knees feel weak. “You know,” he murmured quietly against your skin, “it’d be a real shame if the security cameras saw us right now.”
“I don’t care,” you whispered immediately.
Then he pulled back just enough to look at you properly, his hand still spread against your thigh, eyes searching your face like he was making sure you meant it. “…yeah?” he asked softly.
You nodded once. “Yeah.”
His thumb dragged slowly against your thigh. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to me right now,” he murmured.
You swallowed hard, but didn’t look away. “Maybe I mean it.”
A quiet breath left him, almost like a laugh, except there was nothing amused about it anymore. His forehead tipped lightly against yours for half a second before he kissed you again, slower this time but somehow needier too. His hand tightened slightly at your thigh as he pulled you closer against him, your back pressing lightly into the edge of the desk beside you.
The music overhead blurred into background noise. The station lights glowed soft against the windows. Somewhere down the hall, equipment hummed steadily, grounding everything just enough to remind you where you actually were. Steve kissed your jaw once, then your neck again, slower this time.
“You’re making this really hard,” he murmured quietly against your skin.
Your breath shook slightly. “You started it.”
A faint laugh left him at that, warm against your throat. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I know.”
His hand slid a little higher against your thigh before stopping himself there, fingers flexing lightly like restraint was physically hurting him now. Your head tipped back against the desk instinctively, eyes fluttering shut for half a second when his mouth brushed the same sensitive spot below your ear again. His mouth lingered against your neck for a second too long before he finally pulled back just enough to look at you again. His chest rose unevenly beneath your hands, hair messy now, lips pink from kissing you. But his expression had changed.
Your stomach tightened immediately. “What?” you whispered.
Steve’s eyes searched yours for a second like he was trying to figure out how honest to be. Then he exhaled quietly and leaned his forehead against yours again. “I really like you,” he said softly.
Your fingers loosened slightly against his shirt. Steve swallowed once before continuing, voice lower now. “And I know that sounds stupid because obviously something’s been happening between us for a while, but—” he shook his head slightly, frustrated with himself already, “—I think this is the first time it actually feels real.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
He laughed once under his breath, but there was nothing happy in it. “Which is probably a terrible thing to realize after we already—”
“Steve.”
“No, I’m serious,” he cut in softly. “Because now I’m sitting here thinking about how easy it would be for us to mess this up again.” His hand slipped away from your thigh then, not fully leaving you, just resting lighter now against your waist instead. “We’re good for like…” he searched for the words quietly, eyes flicking over your face. “A day. Maybe two. And then one thing happens and we stop talking or start fighting or somebody gets scared and suddenly we’re back to pretending none of this shit matters again. A lot of it is on me, I’m sorry. ”
Your throat tightened immediately because he wasn’t wrong. Steve looked down briefly before meeting your eyes again. “I don’t wanna do that with you anymore.”
Your fingers moved carefully against the front of his shirt, smoothing fabric that didn’t need smoothing. “We won’t,” you said softly, though part of you hated how uncertain it sounded.
“You don’t know that,” he said quietly.
Steve looked at you like he was trying not to ruin the moment by thinking too far ahead. And you looked at him like maybe you were doing the exact same thing.
Everything was changing quickly but with Steve, it felt like it was a game worth playing.
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an: awwwhh im excited!! thoughts?
taglist- comment 2 be added!
@drmscomet @stoneyggirl2 @lauraashley93 @solynoche @purplerainx1 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @iwrotethissky @ur-djoking @sadiea20 @strangegirl26sff @loonylups @djotimestyles @torirachel @fantasyreader130 @swirledyouintoallmypoems @starryymeg @djolover4ever @literal-tv-menace @eller41 @tankajahari09 @annievolume6 @skkeletonns @marianm25 @projections-mortal @sandrapazos22 @katiebby04 @djopuppy @averylovesbookss @mandoskenobi @fictionallovee @kissalready @tennisgirlsrooms @purrsonline @beedew @loriepov @ilikereadinghardcoresmut @ilovest3veh4rr1ngt0n
chap 15 will be out either 5/12 or 5/13! don’t hate me for the delay ily guys mwahmwahmwah
UPDATE!!!!
hey guys!! don’t hate me for being so late with updates nowadays 😊😊😊 i’ve been extremely busy with school + work, it’s been sooo difficult to write. i’ll be getting chap 15 out asap, i promiseee mwah mwahhhh
also i’m planning my next fic already… it’s a joe keery character but it’s not steve harrington. and oh im so so fucking sat for this please.
☁️💌
my temporary fix steve siiigghhh i need a cigarette BADLLYYY
edit by @angellmiaa !! hoforkeery on tiktok <3
Temporary Fix | Steve Harrington
Chapter Fourteen - Real This Time
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
warnings: angst, emotional tension, jealousy, miscommunication sorta?, mentions of physical fight (injuries), language, suggestive humor, emotional vulnerability (WE ARE GETTING SOMEWHERE FUCKK), confrontation over another girl, hurt/comfort, aww soft steve
word count: 8.1k
series masterlist
summary: you and steve were friends first, and that was the part that mattered. everything else, the late nights, the quiet routine, the way he kept showing up, didn't mean anything. it was easy. something the two of you fell into without really thinking about it. something that didn't need to be explained. because as long as it stayed like this, nothing had to change. right?
an: OKAY. this chapter is kinda cute SORRRYYYY like i will still make sure that there's angst going forward of course. love angst and love yearning sigh sigh sigh.
reblogs are appreciated <3
🎧
just like heaven - the cure
right down the line - gerry rafferty
i wish you would - taylor swift
the only exception - paramore
linger - the cranberries
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Light slipped through the curtains in soft lines, settling across the bed, across him, across you. You woke up already half tucked into Steve, your cheek resting against his chest, his arm draped loosely around your waist like it had stayed there all night without thinking about it. His breathing was steady, deeper than it had been when you first fell asleep, his face relaxed in a way you hadn’t really seen before. bruises stood out more now, darker against his skin in the daylight, blooming along his cheekbone, the cut at his lip a little more defined. It made something in your chest tighten, seeing it like that, knowing exactly how it got there.
Your head throbbed, the memories of the drinks, the yelling all coming back to you. You exhaled quietly and shifted, careful not to wake him as you slipped out from under his arm. The bed dipped slightly with the movement, but he didn’t stir, just breathed out softly and stayed exactly where he was.
You went into his bathroom, still half asleep, his oversized shirt slipping down your shoulder as you reached for the cabinet. It took a second to find what you were looking for, fingers brushing past random bottles before landing on it.
Tylenol.
You shook one into your hand, then paused for a second before grabbing another. You didn’t think too hard about it. You grabbed the glass of water sitting by the sink, took yours first, swallowing it down quickly, then carried the extra pill and the glass back into his room. He hadn’t moved. Still sprawled slightly into your side of the bed now, one arm stretched out where you’d been, hair a mess against the pillow. You stepped closer, quieter this time, placing the extra pill on his nightstand right next to the glass of water that had been there from the night before.
You slipped under the covers again, slower this time, easing yourself back into the space you’d just left. His arm was still there, and without thinking, you leaned back into it, letting yourself settle into his chest again like it had been before. And then he shifted, waking up just enough to react, his hand adjusting at your waist like he was pulling you in before he even realized what he was doing.
You pulled back immediately. “Oh—sorry,” you said, quick, already untangling yourself from him like you’d crossed a line you didn’t mean to.
Steve blinked, eyes barely open, squinting against the light as he tried to focus. “Huh—what?” he mumbled, voice rough, confused, still half asleep.
You ignored it.
“Good morning,” you said instead, like nothing just happened, smoothing your hand over the blanket like you needed something to do.
He blinked a couple more times, slower this time, his expression catching up to the moment. “…morning,” he said, voice still low.
He dragged a hand up to his face, pressing lightly against his cheek—and immediately winced. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hand dropping as the pain hit.
You glanced at him. “I got you Tylenol,” you said, nodding toward the nightstand. “It’s right there.”
His eyes flicked over, slower this time, landing on it. Then back to you. “Oh,” he said, like he hadn’t expected that. “Okay.” He reached for it, sitting up just enough to grab the pill and the glass, his movements a little stiff. He took it without hesitation, swallowing it down quickly before letting out a small breath, like he didn’t realize how thirsty he was until then. “…thanks,” he said, quieter now, setting the glass back down.
You shifted slightly where you were sitting, your fingers brushing over the edge of the blanket. “How’re you feeling?” you asked, softer than you meant to.
He let out a small breath through his nose, dragging a hand over his face again, slower this time, more careful. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he muttered, his voice still rough. His fingers hovered near the bruise on his cheek before dropping again like even that was too much.
You gave him a look. “You kinda did.”
“Yeah,” he said, a little quieter this time, like he wasn’t arguing it.
There was a small pause after that.
He leaned back slightly against the headboard, his head tipping back for a second before his eyes found you again. They lingered a little longer this time, like he was actually taking you in now, the oversized shirt, your bare legs, the way you were sitting just close enough but not quite touching him.
“You okay?” he asked.
You nodded once. “Just a headache.”
He hummed softly, like that made sense, his gaze flicking briefly toward the nightstand, then back to you again. “Thanks for that,” he added, nodding toward the Tylenol, his voice quieter now. “Didn’t even think about it.”
You shrugged slightly, looking down for a second. “Yeah, well… someone had to.”
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, small, but there.
You moved slightly on the bed, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his shirt where it hung loose on you, your thoughts catching up again now that everything had slowed down.
You glanced toward the door for half a second, then back at him. “Do you… need anything?” you asked, a little more tentative now. “Before I go, I mean.”
“Oh, you’re leaving?” he asked.
Your brows pulled together slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing your face. “I mean—” you shifted a little, sitting up straighter without realizing it. “Yeah? I just figured you’d wanna rest, and—”
He pushed himself up a little more against the headboard, wincing faintly before settling, his eyes still on you like he was trying to understand where that came from. “I thought you were staying,” he said.
You blinked at him. “I—” you paused, your brain catching up a second too late. “I didn’t know if you meant like… last night, or—”
“Today too,” he said, cutting in, “Up to you.”
You studied his face for a second, the bruises, the way his hair still sat messy from sleep, the way he was looking at you now, more awake than before.
“You don’t have to,” he added quickly, like he didn’t want it to feel like pressure. “I just—” He stopped himself, exhaling lightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t really want you to go yet.”
Your shoulders softened, the tension you hadn’t even realized was there easing a bit as you looked at him. “Oh,” you said, quieter now. You shifted again, this time moving just a little closer without fully deciding to, your knee brushing his again like before. “I just didn’t wanna… overstay,” you admitted, glancing down for a second. “Or make it weird.”
A faint huff of a laugh left him, not really amused, just… real. “Pretty sure we’re past that.”
That got a small smile out of you. “Yeah,” you said. “Probably.” You looked back up at him, really looking this time, and whatever hesitation had been there earlier didn’t feel as loud now. “…okay,” you said.
His brows lifted slightly. “Okay?”
“Okay,” you repeated, softer, but more sure this time. “I’ll stay.”
He glanced at you for a second longer, like he was making sure you meant it. Then, without saying anything, he lifted his hand and patted the space beside him. You looked at the spot for a second, then back at him. He didn’t rush, his hand resting there like the invitation was yours to take or leave. You didn’t think about it too hard. You moved closer, then lowered yourself back down onto the bed beside him. This time on your side, facing him. Close enough that the space between you barely existed, but not touching. He turned his head slightly on the pillow to face you fully, his arm bending under it as he settled in. The light from the window caught his face. A small smile started to form at the corner of his mouth. Yours followed a second later, almost matching it without trying. You huffed out the tiniest breath, like you were about to say something, but nothing came out. He let out a soft laugh first. It slipped out of him unexpectedly, low and quiet, like he didn’t even know what was funny. You blinked at him for half a second, then laughed too.
He shook his head slightly against the pillow, still smiling. “What?” he asked, like he needed a reason.
You let out another small laugh, your head dipping just slightly. “I don’t know,” you admitted.
“Yeah,” he said, the smile still there. “Me neither.” The laughter faded.
Your smile eased just slightly as you looked at him, your fingers curling lightly into the sleeve of his shirt without thinking. “…I think we have some things to talk about,” you said after a second.
His expression didn’t drop, but it shifted. Just a little more focused now, like he’d been expecting that. “Yeah,” he said quietly.
You hesitated, your fingers still lightly gripping the sleeve of his shirt. “…there’s just… a lot to unpack from last night.”
“Yeah,” he repeated.
Your eyes dropped for a second, then lifted back to his. “Can I ask you something?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Hit me with it.”
“…Melody.”
His jaw tightened slightly at her name this time, not defensive, just bracing for what you’re about to ask.
“Last night, I was going upstairs,” you said. “And I heard her. In one of the rooms.”
He stilled.
“She didn’t see me,” you added quickly. “I wasn’t—trying to listen. I just… did.”
A small pause.
“She was talking to her friends..I think,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “About you.”
His jaw tightened just slightly.
“Saying how you wouldn’t dance with her,” you said, almost like you were replaying it. “Like she was… annoyed about it.” You glanced at him briefly. “And then she said you introduced her to your friends.”
“I just—” you exhaled, a little frustrated with yourself now, “I don’t get where she’s getting that from.” Your eyes met his again. “And I didn’t like hearing it.”
His jaw tightened, then loosened again, like he was deciding whether to say it or not. Then he let out a quiet scoff, like he was upset with himself. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Okay.”
Your brows pulled together slightly. “…what?”
He shook his head once, dragging a hand down his face, careful around the bruise this time. “I fucked up,” he said.
“What do you mean?” you asked, quieter now.
He didn’t look at you right away. “That one polaroid you saw,” he started, slower now, like he was putting it together as he said it. “And the one from Jonathan’s envelope…” A pause. “He took both.”
Your brows furrowed more.
“Jonathan and Eddie were there,” he added, finally looking back at you. “That day. At the lake.”
You went still. “And Robin and Nancy?” you asked.
“They don’t know,” he said. “It wasn’t supposed to be anything,” he said.
Your eyes flicked up to his.
“Me and her,” he clarified, quieter now. “That wasn’t—” He shook his head slightly, searching for the words, not rushing it this time. “It wasn’t about her,” he said. A pause. “It was about you.” His gaze stayed on you. “I told you before,” he went on. “I wanted to know what it would feel like to go on dates with you.”
You stilled.
“And I didn’t have that,” he added. “So I—” he let out a small breath, frustrated with himself now, “I tried to… fill it in. In a really shitty way.”
Your brows pulled together more.
“She’s just—” he shook his head again, softer this time. “She’s just a random girl.” His jaw shifted slightly, something else settling in. “And I’m sorry,” he added, quieter now.
Your eyes flicked up to his again.
“For last night,” he clarified. “For how she talked to you. Cut you off like that—” His expression tightened just a little. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
You didn’t say anything.
“I should’ve stepped in,” he went on. “Right then. Told her to back off. Not just stood there like—” he exhaled, frustrated again, “—like it wasn’t my problem.”
“Because it was,” he said. “It had everything to do with me.”
“And you didn’t deserve that,” he added. “Not from her. Not from me either.”
“And for the record,” he added, his tone shifting just slightly—not defensive, just… open, “we went on four dates.”
Your eyes widened a little.
“I’m not gonna hide anything from you,” he went on, softer now. “Not about this.” He held your gaze. “If you wanna know something, I’ll tell you.” Another pause. “Anything.”
You blinked at him. “…okay,” you said, but it came out softer than you meant it to.
You were stunned. Steve and you had never been good at communication, like ever. He was finally pulling in instead of pulling away. He just stayed there, watching you take it in, letting you sit with it instead of trying to fix it too fast.
Your throat tightened slightly. “…you’re being really honest right now,” you said.
His mouth tilted just a little, not quite a smile.“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I should’ve been sooner.”
You nodded once, small. “…thank you,” you said.
It surprised him a little. You could see it in the way his brows shifted, like he wasn’t expecting that to be your response.
“For telling me,” you added, softer now. “All of it.” Then your gaze dropped. “…I should probably do my part too,” you said.
That caught his attention immediately. “What do you mean?”
You exhaled softly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric of his shirt before letting go of it completely. “Billy,” you said.
Steve’s jaw tightened just slightly at the name, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I’m sorry,” you added quickly. “For… getting him involved like that.”
His brows pulled together. “You didn’t—”
“I did,” you cut in gently. “I said his name. I made it a thing.” A beat. “I shouldn’t have,” you admitted. “I should’ve just ignored it,” you went on, quieter now. “When everyone was asking. About the hickey.” Your eyes flicked up to his for half a second, then back down again. “I knew it was you,” you said. “I didn’t need to—prove anything.”
“If I had just… handled it better,” you continued, your voice softer now, “we wouldn’t have had to deal with all of that.”
“We could’ve just…” you trailed off slightly, then finished it anyway, “…kept it between us.”A small pause. “…our secret.” You shifted slightly on the bed, your knee brushing his again. “I mean—everyone knows now,” you added, a little unsure. “Which is… okay, I guess.” You glanced back up at him. “…what do you think?” you asked. Your voice was softer now. Not anxious, wanting to know. “About them knowing?”
Steve didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed on you, taking in everything you just said, the apology, the way you weren’t blaming him, the way you were trying to meet him in the middle. His hand shifted slightly on the mattress between you, like he almost reached for you before he stopped himself.
“…I honestly didn’t care,” he said finally.
Your brows pulled together just a little. “What?”
“If they found out,” he clarified, quieter now. “The day they came over. Right then and there.” He shrugged one shoulder, but there was nothing casual about it. “I didn’t care.”
“But it just made me hate Billy even more, not your fault.” “I didn’t like that,” he said.
Your voice came out softer. “…what?”
“The way he was touching you,” he answered, no hesitation this time. “Standing that close. Acting like—” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. “Like he had a place there,” he finished, quieter. “I know I don’t get to—” he started, then shook his head slightly, correcting himself, “I know I don’t have a right to act like that.”
Your eyes stayed on him.
“But it still got to me,” he said. “I didn’t care who knew about us,” he added, softer now. “I cared about that.” A pause. “Watching you with him.”
Your breath caught just slightly.
“I hated it,” he admitted.
“And yeah,” he added after a second, his voice dropping just a little, “maybe if I hadn’t stood there all night pretending I was fine, it wouldn’t have gotten that far.”
“But the whole ‘everyone knows’ thing?” he went on, quieter now. “I’m not worried about that.”
“Not if it’s you.”
For a second, all you could do was look at him. At the way his voice had softened without losing any of its weight. The way he didn’t try to take it back or make it up into something easier. It’s like he just meant everything he said. And god, did he have a way with his words. Not in a way that was rehearsed or like he was trying to impress you. He was honest and open, he was finally saying the things you wish he said.
Your gaze dropped briefly to his mouth, then back up again, like you were grounding yourself. “Are you okay to get out of the house?” you asked.
Steve blinked at you, caught off guard. “What?”
You glanced at him, more certain now. “Like… physically,” you clarified. “Your face. Your head. Everything.”
He let out a small breath, still a little confused, his hand coming up instinctively to press lightly at his cheek before dropping again. “Uh… yeah. I think so.”
“Why?”
You shrugged slightly, already pushing the covers back, your feet brushing the floor. “We’re gonna go get food,” you said, like you’d already decided it. “And then go get some air.”
He watched you for a second, still trying to catch up. “…we are?” he asked.
You glanced back at him, one brow lifting just slightly. “Yeah,” you said simply. “We should get out of here for a bit.”
His expression shifted again, something more grounded settling in. “…okay,” he said.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, slower this time, wincing just slightly as he adjusted.
“Take it easy,” you muttered.
He huffed a quiet breath, something almost like a smile pulling at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in it. You both moved at the same time. He pushed himself up from the bed while you stepped back toward the door, and somehow you ended up walking side by side down the short hallway, neither of you questioning it. The bathroom light flicked on. You both stepped in. You reached for the toothbrushes at the same time. Your fingers brushed lightly against each other where they sat in the cup, and you both paused for half a second, glancing at each other through the mirror.
A small, almost amused look passed between you. Then you pulled yours free first. He followed right after. You grabbed the toothpaste, flipping the cap open with your thumb, squeezing it onto your toothbrush without thinking. Then you handed it to him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, quieter now.
You just nodded slightly, already turning the faucet on, the water running steady as you rinsed your toothbrush, shaking off the excess before bringing it up. He did the same beside you. The mirror caught everything.
The way your shoulders stood just a little too close. The way his hair was still messy from sleep, pushed back unevenly. The faint bruising along his cheek, darker now in the morning light. Your eyes flicked to him, catching his eyes already on you. You paused for half a second, toothbrush still in your mouth, your gaze meeting his in the mirror. You huffed out the smallest breath through your nose, barely a laugh, and he caught it immediately, the corner of his mouth pulling just slightly around his toothbrush.
You rinsed your toothbrush, set it back in the cup, and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand without thinking. He did the same beside you, slower, a little more careful around the split in his lip. You slipped out of the bathroom, heading back toward his room like you already knew where everything was. You went to his dresser, pulling it open and grabbing the sweats you’d seen earlier, sliding them on without overthinking it. They sat low on your hips, a little too big, the fabric bunching slightly at the ankles. You reached for your black tank top from last night, pulling it on. Across the room, Steve changed too.
A t-shirt. Different pair of sweats. Movements slower than usual, but steadier now. You glanced over once, briefly. Then looked away just as fast. He crossed over to the closet, pulling out a pair of shoes—older, worn in a way that didn’t quite match the rest of his things. “These are my mom’s,” he said, setting them down near you. “They’ll fit better than mine.”
You nodded, quiet. “Thanks, Steve.” You slipped them on, adjusting the back with your fingers until they sat right.
Steve turned away, already reaching across his dresser, patting around absentmindedly. You could tell that’s what he was looking for before he even said it. The way his brows pulled together, the slight shift in his shoulders as he checked one spot, then another. He opened a drawer then shut it, checked his jacket.
“-fuck-“
You looked up immediately, a smile already tugging at your mouth before you could stop it.
He froze for half a second, then dragged a hand down his face, wincing slightly when it brushed a bruise. “My car,” he said, like the realization had just hit him all at once. “You—”
“I drove,” you cut in, already laughing a little now.
He blinked at you, still catching up. “…yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah, you did.”
The smile on your face only grew. “Relax,” you added, grabbing your bag from where you’d set it down earlier. “I’ll take you to get it later.”
He huffed out a quiet breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Of course you will,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly like he didn’t know whether to be amused or impressed.
You shrugged, heading toward the door. “Try not to sound so surprised.”
“I’m not—” he started, then stopped, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. “Okay, I am. A little.”
You glanced back at him over your shoulder, raising a brow. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, grabbing his keys—realizing they were useless right now, and dropping them back onto the dresser with a soft clink. “Lead the way.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊
The drive was pretty quiet, your fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel, the low hum of the radio, the occasional glance you caught him giving you when he thought you weren’t looking.
You pulled into a drive-thru a few minutes later, leaning slightly out the window as you ordered like it was already decided. “Two burgers, fries, and—” you paused, glancing at him.
He met your eyes for half a second. “Coke,” he said.
You nodded once. “—and two cokes.” You paid before he could even reach for anything.
“Hey—” he started.
“No,” you cut in lightly, pulling forward. “You got beat up last night. Least I can do is buy you a burger.”
He snorted quietly, leaning back in his seat. “That’s your logic?”
“Yeah,” you said simply.
“…alright, I'll make it up,” he admitted, a small smile slipping through.
You grabbed the bag when it came, balancing the drinks carefully before pulling out of the lot and back onto the road. The city started to thin out the further you drove. You didn’t say anything when you turned toward the overlook. It was the kind of place people didn’t talk too loud at. The kind of place that made everything feel just a little slower. You’d been here with Steve a few times, but for different reasons. You parked, cutting the engine. Then you reached for the bag, passing it over to him before grabbing your drink.
“Careful,” you said. “Fries are hot.”
He let out a quiet laugh under his breath, opening it anyway. “You sound like a mom.”
You glanced at him, unimpressed. “Eat your food.”
That got a real smile out of him. You both stepped out of the car a second later, moving toward the front without thinking about it, leaning lightly against the hood. The air was cooler out here, quieter, the view stretching out in front of you. You reached into the bag again, pulling out a fry and blowing on it before taking a bite, your gaze still fixed out ahead.
“Y’know,” Steve said after a beat, nudging your shoulder lightly with his, “you didn’t have to do all this.”
You glanced at him. “All what?”
“This,” he repeated, gesturing loosely with his drink. “Food. Fresh air. The whole… recovery plan.”
A small smile pulled at your mouth. “You looked like you needed it.”
He huffed quietly, like he couldn’t really argue with that. “Yeah, well… you’re very bossy about it.”
You turned your head fully now, narrowing your eyes just a little. “Oh, I’m bossy?”
“Mm,” he nodded, taking a sip of his drink, trying to look serious and failing a little. “A little.”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You literally followed me out of your own house.”
“Yeah,” he said easily. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
You looked down at your food again, trying to hide the way your smile lingered. “You’re annoying,” you muttered.
“Yeah?” he said, a hint of a grin slipping through. “Didn’t seem like that last night.”
Your brows pulled together slightly, but there was no real bite to it. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, bumping your shoulder into his again. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” he said, lifting his hands slightly in defense, still smiling. “Just making an observation.”
“Keep observing and I’m leaving you here,” you shot back.
He laughed—actually laughed this time, head tipping back slightly before he looked at you again. “You wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he said, quieter now, but still certain. “You like me too much.”
You went still for a second, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the fry carton. Your eyes lifted to him again, slower this time. “…you’re too confident right now,” you said.
He shrugged, but there was something honest under it. “Am I wrong?”
You held his gaze for a second longer than you meant to. Then you looked away first, shaking your head just slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Eat your food, Harrington.”
He watched you for a second, like he knew he’d gotten to you just a little. You shifted your weight slightly against the hood, your fingers absently folding the top of the fry carton in and out. For a second, it felt like you might just let it go, leave it sitting there between you, unspoken. But there was no way you’d be able to do that.
“Why didn’t you just see for yourself?” you asked, quieter now.
He glanced over at you, brows pulling together slightly. “What?”
You turned your head fully this time, already holding his gaze. “You said you wanted to know what it would feel like,” you said. “To go on dates with me.” A small pause. “Right?”
His expression shifted, something more careful settling in. “…yeah.”
You nodded once, like that confirmed it. “So why didn’t you?” you asked.
His eyes stayed on yours, but the confidence from earlier pulled back just a little. “I—” he started, then stopped, letting out a small breath through his nose like he didn’t love his own answer before he even said it.
You waited. “I didn’t think you wanted that,” he said finally.
Your brows pulled together slightly. “Why?”
He huffed a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh, glancing away for half a second before looking back at you. “Because every time it got close to being something like that, you’d…” he trailed off, searching. “Pull back. Or joke. Or act like it wasn’t a big deal.”
You blinked at him.
“I figured if I actually asked you,” he added, quieter now, “you’d say no. Or worse—you’d say yes and not mean it.”
“I didn’t wanna…” he shook his head slightly, his voice dropping. “I didn’t wanna be the only one taking it seriously.”
Your gaze dropped for a second, your chest tightening in a way you didn’t quite like. “…I wouldn’t have said no,” you said, softer now. Your eyes lifted back to his, holding there this time. “I wouldn’t have thought it was a joke either,” you added. “If you had just… asked.”
“…yeah?” he asked.
You nodded once. “Yeah.”
He studied you for a second, like he was trying to figure out if you meant it.
“…we fought a lot,” you said. “Like—actually fought,” you added, a small, almost disbelieving breath slipping through. “About dumb shit, stupid shit. Shit that shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did.” Your eyes flicked back to him, searching his face now.“There was always something off,” you went on. “Like we were never really saying what we meant. Or we were, but it kept getting twisted into something else.”
His jaw tightened just slightly, but he nodded. He knew.
“And now…” you trailed off, your brows pulling together a little as you tried to put it into words. “Why does it feel different?”
“Last night…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “Kinda took the option of pretending I didn’t care away.”
“Seeing you with him,” he added, quieter now, “and realizing I actually could lose you—like, for real—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening for a second before he forced himself to keep going. “Yeah. That did it.”
“I don’t wanna keep doing it like before,” he said. “All the guessing. All the…” he gestured vaguely between you. “That.”
Your fingers loosened slightly around the carton now. “…me neither,” you admitted.
He glanced down briefly, nudging the edge of the fry carton in your hands with his thumb before pulling his hand back again, like he hadn’t fully thought it through. “…okay,” he said under his breath, almost to himself.
You tilted your head slightly. “Okay… what?”
He huffed out a small breath, shifting his weight, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit you hadn’t seen from him in a while. “Okay,” he repeated, this time actually looking at you. “Then I’m not doing it like before.”
“I don’t wanna keep getting close and then…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “Messing it up. Or watching it slip because I didn’t say something when I should’ve.”
Your grip tightened again around the carton, the cardboard bending slightly under your fingers.
He let out a breath, like he’d finally decided something. “Okay,” he said, quieter now.
You frowned slightly. “Okay… what?”
He held your gaze. “No jokes. No pretending. No… fallback plan if you say no,” he added, voice lower now. “Just—this.”
Your heart started beating a little too fast.
“…will you let me take you out?” he asked. “A real date,” he added quickly, like he needed you to understand what he meant. “Not as friends, not as friends with benefits or whatever, just to see where it goes.”
Your throat tightened.
“I’ll plan it,” he went on, quieter now. “I’ll pick you up. I’ll actually—” he huffed a small breath, almost frustrated with himself, “—do it right.”
Your eyes dropped for a second, your chest pulling tight in a way that almost hurt.
“And if you don’t want that,” he added, softer now, “just tell me. I’ll—” he paused, jaw tightening slightly, “I’ll deal with it. I just… need to know.”
You looked back up at him immediately. He didn’t have that stupid Steve Harrington smirk he always had, he looked exposed. “…Steve,” you said, barely above a breath. Your fingers curled slightly against your palm.
“If I don’t say it now,” he said, “I think I’m gonna lose you.”
Your gaze dropped fast, like you needed somewhere else to land. Anywhere but his eyes. The ground. Your hands. The crumpled edge of the fry carton between your fingers. You pressed your lips together, then caught your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down lightly like you were trying to keep your nerves in. A quiet breath left you. You shook your head once under your breath, almost disbelieving, your shoulders dipping slightly as you tried to steady yourself. You nodded once, then repeatedly. Almost like your body had already decided before your voice.
“…yeah,” you said finally, soft at first. You swallowed, still not looking up yet, your smile breaking through anyway. “Yeah,” you repeated, a little stronger this time.
“I’ll go on a real date with you.”
You let out a breath that almost felt like a laugh, your head tipping down just slightly, your teeth still catching your lip for a second before you finally let it go.
“…yeah?” he said, quieter than before.
It almost sounded like he needed to hear it again.
You nodded, a small huff of a laugh slipping out of you. “Yeah.”
He shifted slightly where he stood beside you, his shoulder brushing yours again. Your breath caught just slightly at the contact, your body going still for half a second before settling again, like you were getting used to something new. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye.
A small smile pulled at your mouth before you could stop it, your head tipping down again.“…stop,” you muttered.
“Stop what?” he asked, softer now.
You shook your head, still not fully looking at him. “That.”
“That?” he repeated.
You huffed quietly. “Looking at me like that.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
You glanced at him again, unimpressed. “You are.”
His mouth tilted just slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“…you said yes,” he said, like that explained everything.
Your breath hitched just slightly at that. You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in it, your smile giving you away anyway. “You’re so—”
“What?” he pressed.
You shook your head again, a quiet laugh slipping out of you. “I don’t even know yet.”
“That’s not a good sign,” he said, but he was smiling now too.
You finished the food slowly, without really thinking about it, passing the bag back and forth, stealing fries from each other without asking. The view stayed the same, the air still cool, but something about it all felt quieter now. Eventually, you both pushed off the car at the same time, like you’d silently agreed it was time to go. You got back into the car, the doors shutting a little softer than usual, like neither of you wanted to break whatever had settled between you. The engine turned over, the low hum filling the space, and for a second you just sat there, hands on the wheel, eyes forward.
The drive felt different than the one earlier. The city stretched out around you, familiar streets passing by, the kind you didn’t even have to think about to navigate. Music played low through the speakers. You both let it sit there for a bit before the talking started again, and it was really about random things. You pointed out something dumb you saw the night before, some guy who tripped over absolutely nothing and tried to play it off like it didn’t happen. Steve laughed at that—really laughed—and added his own version of it, exaggerating the way Eddie had been carrying too many bottles like it was some kind of balancing act.
You talked about the party. The chaos of it. Who left early, who didn’t, who absolutely should’ve. WSQK came up at some point, something dumb they played on launch day, something you both remembered at the same time—and that turned into a whole back-and-forth about songs you hated, songs you’d never admit to liking, songs that somehow always ended up playing at the worst times.
You mentioned school, offhand at first, like it wasn’t a big deal. Something about an assignment, a professor that annoyed you, the way everything was starting to pile up again. He actually listened. Not just nodding along, not waiting for his turn to talk, asking small questions here and there. Steve talked about what he’d been doing. About how he was still trying to save enough to get out, to not have to keep dealing with the same house, the same expectations, the same… everything. He didn’t go too deep into it, but he didn’t brush it off either. But he sure did find a way to bring up your birthday, that was on Thursday, only making it four days away. You listened the same way he had.
There was something about how it went both ways now that made it feel different.
You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you caught yourself turning on Robin’s street. You slowed a little, pulling up along the curb just outside her house, the tires crunching softly against the gravel at the edge.
You glanced toward the house, then back at the wheel, your fingers tapping once, absentminded. “…we’re here,” you said, softer than you meant to.
You felt a weird hesitation, like neither of you were fully ready to break whatever the drive had been. You cleared your throat slightly, pushing past it.
“Wait—” you said, turning slightly in your seat. “Can you grab my backpack from the back?”
He blinked once, like he was pulled out of something. “Yeah—yeah, sure.”
“I forgot I have something for Robin,” you added, already reaching to unbuckle. “It’s just a tape I borrowed.”
He nodded, pushing his door open, the outside air slipping in for a second before he stepped out. You stayed where you were, watching him circle around the back of the car. He opened the back door, leaning in, shifting things around until he found it. He grabbed it easily, pulling it toward him and then he paused. You didn’t notice at first. You were still looking toward the house, already thinking about what you were going to say when you went inside, how long you’d stay.
“…hey,” he said.
Something in his voice made you turn. You looked over your shoulder. He was standing by the open back door, your bag in one hand and a polaroid picture in the other.
You knew exactly which one.
It was slightly bent at the corner now, like it had been shoved into your bag without much care. The edges worn just enough to show it hadn’t just been sitting there untouched.
“You kept it?” he asked.
Your breath caught, your hand tightening slightly around the steering wheel before you even realized it. You hadn’t meant for him to see that. “…I forgot it was in there,” you said finally.
“…right,” he said.
You pushed your door open, stepping out of the car, closing it a little harder than necessary as you moved around to him. “Steve—” you started, but you didn’t even know how to finish it.
“You took it at Family Video,” he said.
You stopped a few feet in front of him. “…what?,” you admitted.
He looked back down at it briefly. Then up at you again. “…why?”
“…I don’t know,” you said at first. But even as it left you, you knew that wasn’t true. You let out a small breath, shaking your head once.“…I did know,” you corrected, softer now. You glanced at the picture in his hand, then back at his face, your chest tightening again in a way that felt too familiar. “…I think I just wanted to have it,” you admitted.
His jaw tightened. “…you don’t need that,” he said.
Your brows pulled together slightly. “What?”
His grip on the Polaroid tightened and before you could even process it, the picture bent in his hands. It tore right down the middle.
Your breath caught. “Steve—”
He folded the pieces again, crumpling them in his palm like it didn’t matter. Like it shouldn’t matter. Then he finally looked back up at you. There was something different in his expression now. “You don’t need to keep something like that,” he said, quieter this time.
Your chest tightened. “Why?” you asked, softer now.
His eyes held yours. “Because you don’t need to be jealous of her,” he said.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” he cut in. “And you don’t have to be.” He took a small step close enough to close the space that had opened. “She didn’t have me,” he said. “Not even close to the way you do.”
Your throat tightened, your eyes flicking away for a second because you didn’t know what to do with that. When you looked back up, he was already stepping past you, tossing the crumpled pieces into the nearest trash without another thought. You stood there for half a second longer, trying to catch up, trying to settle whatever just shifted in your chest.
Then you heard your car door open. You turned, Steve had already slid into the driver’s seat, leaning over the center console to turn the key, the engine cutting off with a soft click. He pulled the keys out, setting them down carefully, like it wasn’t even his car, but he still treated it like it mattered. He stepped back out, closing the door behind him. Then he looked at you again.
“C’mon,” he said, nodding his head toward Robin’s front door. He let you walk in front of him, not rushing you, just following a step behind. Close enough that you could feel him there without turning around. The porch steps creaked lightly under your shoes as you made your way up, your hand reaching for the handle without knocking. You pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Robin was on the couch, legs tucked under her, flipping through a magazine she didn’t look too invested in. The TV hummed low in the background. She glanced up casually then paused. “…wow,” she said, taking in Steve’s face. “You look terrible.”
Steve exhaled through his nose. “Good afternoon to you too.”
“I mean it,” she added, sitting up a little straighter, squinting at the bruising. “It somehow got worse overnight. That’s… kind of impressive.”
“I’m fine.”
“Mm,” she hummed, unconvinced. “That’s exactly what people who are not fine say.”
Robin’s eyes flicked to you then, softer. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
“How was your very adult sleepover?” she asked, one brow lifting just slightly.
Steve groaned immediately. “Robin.”
“What?” she shrugged. “She did stay over. That’s just… factually accurate.”
You huffed out a small breath, something like a smile slipping through. “It was great, actually.”
Robin’s brows lifted a little higher. “Oh?”
You nodded once, like you were really considering it. “Yeah, do you want details? Which part do you wanna hear?” you added, tilting your head just slightly. “Personally, my favorite part was when Steve pu—”
“NOPE,” Robin cut in immediately, throwing a hand up like she was physically blocking the rest of the sentence. “Nope. Absolutely not. I regret asking. I take it back. I’m revoking my question.”
Steve’s eyes squeezed shut for half a second. “Jesus Christ—”
Robin pointed at you without looking. “You—stop talking.”
“I’m not even done—”
“I don’t care,” she said quickly. “I don’t need the director’s cut, the extended version, or the behind-the-scenes commentary. I’m good.”
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slightly.
Steve dragged a hand down his face. “Can we please just get my keys?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Robin muttered, still recovering, pointing toward the kitchen. “Counter. And for the record—this is why I don’t ask follow-up questions.”
“Noted,” you said lightly.
Robin glanced at you again, just briefly, a small, reluctant smile pulling at her mouth now. “…unbelievable,” she muttered.
Steve disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of keys shifting and a drawer opening faint in the background.
For a second, it was just you and Robin. Robin leaned back into the couch, studying you a little more directly now that he was gone. “How is he?” she asked, nodding slightly toward the kitchen.
You glanced that way for half a second before answering. “He’s okay,” you said. “He was in pain when we got back to the house. Like—more than he let on. But…” you shrugged a little, softer now, “he should be okay.”
Robin nodded slowly, like she expected that.“Yeah,” she muttered. “That tracks.”
“…Billy really got under his skin, huh,” she said, not quite a question.
“Yeah.”
She leaned back again, processing that, her expression shifting into something more thoughtful now. “Figures,” she muttered. “Billy has that effect on people. Like—he walks into a room and suddenly everyone’s ten times worse than they were five minutes ago.”
You huffed a quiet breath at that. “That’s… accurate.”
Robin tilted her head slightly, studying you again. “But Steve doesn’t usually let himself get like that,” she added, more quietly this time. “Not anymore.”
“…well,” she said, shifting the mood just slightly, sitting up again, “for what it’s worth, he’s gonna feel that for like three days minimum. So if he starts acting dramatic, don’t let him get away with it.”
You smiled a little. “Noted.”
She pointed at you. “Seriously. He’ll milk it.”
“I heard that,” Steve called from the kitchen.
Robin didn’t even look over. “Good.”
Steve came back a second later, keys in hand, glancing between the two of you like he knew better than to ask what was said “Ready? I’m gonna head out.” he asked.
You nodded.
Robin flopped back against the couch again, already reaching for her magazine. “Try not to get into another fight before dinner,” she muttered.
“No promises,” Steve said.
“Steve.”
“…I’ll try.”
“See you both at WSQK tomorrow morning! Also, Steve we have to go to Family Video to tell Keith we’re out of that bitch.” Robin said, forming a peace sign.
Steve nodded, “Yeah, yeah. See you.”
You and Robin said bye then you were out the door with Steve. The porch creaked under your weight as you stepped down first, Steve just a step behind you like he had been all morning. You walked toward your car. He walked toward his. Same direction. Same pace. You stopped at your driver’s side door, your hand resting on the handle, not opening it yet. Across from you, Steve slowed too, keys hanging loose in his hand, like he’d forgotten what he was about to do.
“…so,” you started, then stopped, your fingers tightening slightly against the door handle. You didn’t even know what you were trying to say. Your gaze dropped for half a second, then lifted again. “Drive safe,” you said finally.
His hand tightened just slightly around his keys, like he was holding onto something else entirely. A small breath left him, and he nodded once. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You too.”
He shifted slightly, like he was about to turn away, but he stopped. “…Tuesday,” he said.
Your eyes lifted to his immediately.
He swallowed once, like he was forcing himself to keep going now that he’d started. “I’ll pick you up,” he added, quieter this time, but more certain. “Be ready by—” he glanced down at his watch, then back at you, “six. I’ll pick you up.”
“And I’ll see you tomorrow, at the Squawk.”
Your grip on the door handle loosened just slightly, your gaze dropping for half a second before lifting back to him again. “Okay, sounds good” you said softly.
You nodded once, small, more to yourself than him this time, before finally pulling your door open. The moment broke just enough for you to slip into the driver’s seat, your hands finding the wheel like muscle memory. Before you shut the door, you looked back at him. He was still watching you, somehow it felt worse knowing you’d see him again tomorrow, because now there was something to wait for. You closed the door, the sound echoing. Through the windshield, you saw him hesitate one second longer before finally turning toward his own car, like he had to force himself to follow through.
You started the engine, and he did the same a second later. Two separate cars pulling onto the same road, heading in the same direction, but now there was something different sitting between it all: a time, a plan, a date.
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an: STEVE DATE IDEAS....GO!!!!!!
taglist- comment 2 be added!
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chapter 14 inspo ugh
