When you become captain of the swim team, the last thing you expect is to catch the attention of the pool’s lifeguard.
pairing: lifeguard!steve harrington x reader
words: 3.3k
contains: fluff, swim captain!reader, lifeguard!steve (I repeat, lifeguard!steve!!), king steve, mutal pining (both oblivious), slightly suggestive, mention of drowning (no actual drowning!) female reader, she/her pronouns for reader, no use of y/n.
author's note: request by @babyluxbeat | the summer fics are brewing and my god i am excited. lifeguard!steve is just the start 🤭
to be added to my taglist | masterlist | requests page
If anyone were to ask why Steve Harrington had volunteered to be a lifeguard at Hawkins community pool, he’d tell them it was for his college resume. That he liked people relying on him to keep them safe, that the pay wasn’t too bad and that he didn’t really have to do much. That he spent most of his time checking out women as they walked by or yelling at kids to stop running. But really—Steve had volunteered to be a lifeguard because you showed up to the pool every Saturday.
You—the captain of the swim team who had a hold on Steve Harrington that even he couldn’t quite understand. Steve didn’t know what was wrong with him when it came to you. You were a studious, artistry type and the captain of the swim team. Steve thought you were stupidly hot and so, despite his best efforts, he was pretty damn obsessed with you. But could he talk to you? Could he hold an actual conversation with you? Absolutely not.
He knew it was stupid. He was King Steve for gods sake, he could charm girls easily. Sometimes he didn’t even have to say anything, he could just look their way, smile and they’d fall right where he wanted them. But when it came to you—someone who either had their nose always stuck in their sketch book or who was too busy with band practice to pay any attention to him—Steve knew his usual tactics weren’t going to work. And without his usual tactics—Steve did not know how to talk to you.
You made him feel like the awkward teenager that he spent so long pretending not to be. You made him interested in that clarinet you played. You made him want to actually show up to work on a Saturday morning with a raging hangover. But you were—well, you were you. You were smart and certainly too good for a guy like Steve—that was what he told himself anyway. He knew Tommy wouldn’t have approved if Steve did ever find the nerve to ask you out. You weren’t exactly popular and Steve hated that there was a tiny part of him that cared about that.
But Steve was trying not to think about what Tommy would say or what anybody else in Hawkins High would think. Because senior prom was fast approaching and Steve would have rather driven his car into the quarry than see you go to prom with someone else.
And so—Steve knew he had to get his act together.
It was early Saturday morning and like clockwork, your mom dropped you off at Hawkins community pool at five to eight. You always booked a half hour slot before the swim team’s practice to warm up and have the pool to yourself.
Well, yourself and Steve Harrington who was the designated lifeguard at the pool from seven to one.
Not that you ever talked to him outside of a polite nod and a quiet ‘good morning’.
You hadn’t ever really admitted it—not even to yourself—that Steve Harrington was your favourite thing about Saturday mornings at Hawkins community pool. He made it difficult to focus on swimming, him and his stupid, perfect hair. Him and those stupid pair of red lifeguard shorts that showed off his stupid, perfect thighs—
You were already doing it again, thinking about Steve as you headed into the women’s locker room. You knew he was already here because you had spotted his BMW in the parking lot—something that you found yourself unconsciously looking for when you arrived. You wondered after getting changed if Steve would be wearing a shirt today. It was going to be a sweltering hot day, the heat was already beginning to creep up and it made your skin feel slick with sweat.
There was a part of you that hoped he would wear a shirt—because you knew it would distract you. But there was a much larger part of you that hoped he wouldn’t wear a shirt—that you would be able to see for yourself the smattering of chest hair you had heard Millie Rogers talking about. She had seen it at a house party where Steve had apparently tore off his shirt after setting a new keg stand record. Millie had called it unattractive and you had hummed in quiet agreement, despite the fact you were already imagining running your fingers through the coarse hair. Your thoughts made your face, your entire body feel warm and it had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with the man sitting on top of the lifeguard tower.
Steve looks tired, as usual, and the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose indicated to you that he was likely hungover. Probably had attended one of those parties last night that you were never invited to. But you barely pay any attention to anything other than the fact that Steve was in fact, not wearing his ‘lifeguard’ shirt. Your mouth feels dry when you see just how much chest hair he had. And that dark trail of hair that disappeared into his trunks—
You were so busy checking him out that you seemed to forget where you were entirely.
One foot slipped on the pool coping and, though you tried to stop yourself from falling, gravity won in the end.
You fell into the pool with a loud splash. There was a part of you that hoped that you wouldn’t resurface as your body became fully submerged, the water cooling your body temperature but doing nothing for the burning of embarrassment in your gut. You open your eyes for a moment beneath the water, ignoring the slight sting from the chlorine so you could figure out which way was up and which was down when you notice a blurry figure swimming towards you.
Oh god. Oh god, no—
You felt a large hand wrap around your arm, another on your waist and any thoughts you had of kicking your legs, of swimming went away. Because Steve Harrington was pulling you up to the surface and suddenly all rational thought drifted away.
Your head breaks the surface first and you gasp for air before coughing out water that you hadn’t even realised you had inhaled. Your face was burning with embarrassment as Steve’s head emerged from the water right in front of you.
“You okay?” was the first thing he asked, sunglasses apparently discarded before he had dove in so you could see that his eyes were wide and full of worry. “You didn’t hit your head?”
You’re still a little breathless, the mix of adrenaline from the fall and the embarrassment of it happening in front of Steve felt like a deadly concoction. You wanted to sink into the depths of the pool and not come back up.
But he’s looking at you with those big, round, hazel eyes that seem to keep you afloat.
Finally, you shake your head. “N-no,” you say, your voice a little hoarse. “I didn’t—I’m fine—just wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Lie. It was a damn lie. You had been distracted by him and his stupid, gorgeous body. His stupid, gorgeous body that was now less than ten inches away from you. You could almost count every freckle, every mole that was peppered across his skin.
“You sure you’re fine?” Steve asks and it’s then you realise that he was still holding you—one hand on your waist while the other treads water. And you? Your hands were both resting on his chest, fingers curled through the hair there and that hot flash of shame and embarrassment returned.
“Oh, god! I’m so sorry—”
“—it’s okay! You nearly—”
You pull away from him before you could embarrass yourself further. Your face felt hot to the touch and you wanted nothing more than to get out of the pool and then perhaps move to another state to save yourself from more embarrassment.
“I’m really sorry—”
“—don’t apologise! It’s what lifeguards are for, right? Saving lives and all that.”
You wouldn’t call what Steve had just done as ‘saving your life’. You were a talented swimmer and you could have found your way to the surface without Steve’s help. But the way he was smiling at you so sincerely that you found yourself beginning to smile too.
“Yeah,” you murmur back, trying to hide the warmth you felt still burning your cheeks. “T-thank you for—you know.”
“Anytime,” Steve says sincerely with a smile that was just for you—nothing like that King Steve smirk you saw him flash around school. This smile was softer and made him look so devastatingly handsome that you could have forgotten how to swim entirely just by looking at him. “And don’t worry—I won’t tell your team that their captain nearly drowned.”
That pulled a surprised laugh from you. You miss the way the corners of Steve’s mouth twitches. “I didn’t nearly drown—”
“—I dunno, pretty sure you would have been a goner if it wasn’t for me.”
It’s impossible to bite back the borderline goofy smile from your face at that. You wonder briefly if he was flirting with you before you remember that he was Steve Harrington and Steve Harrington didn’t flirt with girls like you. But still—the thought made your stomach feel warm and your heart beat that little bit faster.
“Sure,” you say finally. “You tell yourself that.”
The both of you continue to tread water, Steve looking away from you for a brief moment while your eyes flicker down to his chest again—
“You know, I was thinking of trying out for the swim team,” Steve says suddenly and you have to force yourself to look back at his face.
“Yo-you were?”
“Yeah,” Steve nods, a look on his face you didn’t quite recognise. Almost as though he was nervous, unsure even. “I mean—you’re a great captain from what I’ve heard and outside of falling into pools, a really good swimmer. And I’m a good swimmer too. I promise! I mean—you should see my breast stroke—wait, no, no—not like that, I—”
When you see Steve’s face flushing pink as he scrambles to get away from the euphemism, it does funny things to your chest.
“Well considering the fact you saved me from almost drowning, I’d say you’re already an honorary team member,” you tell him.
You watch as Steve’s face breaks out into a smile, his cheeks were still flushed and you thought that he had never looked better, despite the fact he was soaking wet.
“I should, um—get back to the tower,” Steve says finally, glancing back towards his lifeguard station. “And you should warm up before practice.”
“Yeah,” you agree, though your gut was filled with the kind of disappointment that felt like a heavy weight. “Thank you again.”
“No problem,” Steve nods with a smile that felt so genuine it made you feel as though your heart was beating out of your chest. “Just don’t make it a habit, okay? Can’t have my favourite swimmer drowning.”
You feel hot all over again. You watch in some sort of state of shock as Steve sends you a final smile before swimming away. Your arm movements falter as you try to comprehend what Steve Harrington had just said to you as he climbs out of the pool—water droplets dripping down the muscles of his shoulders and back in a tantisling sort of way.
It was hard to focus after that.
Your team showed up fifteen minutes later and you found it very near impossible to stay focused on swim practice. You instructed them to swim lengths several times but you were barely paying attention to anything that wasn’t Steve and the way his hair had dried beneath the morning sun, the slight curls that had formed. It wasn’t your best practice but in your defence, Steve Harrington wasn’t wearing a shirt.
At the end of practice, you had mistakenly told Robin, your best friend, about what had happened between you and Steve.
She had laughed hard when you told her about falling into the pool, then looked at you a little pitifully when you had told her the reason why.
“Over that jungle? Really? Are you sure you’re not in love with him?”
Your eyes widen comically and you do a double take, having to double check that no one else was in the women’s locker room.
“I’m not in love with him—”
“—okay, fine. Maybe you’re not in love with him but you certainly like him.”
“I don’t—”
“—you do. I’m your best friend, c’mon, I know when you like a guy. You get all…googey eyed talking about him.”
Your face burns as you slam your locker shut. “I do not—”
“—you do. Trust me.”
You want to argue but, deep down, you knew she was right. You sigh as you zip your bag shut. “Fine. Okay—maybe I do like him. But he’s Steve Harrington, there’s no way—”
Robin laughs as she says your name, shaking her head to interrupt you. “—oh, there is a way. Trust me, that guy does not stop staring at you. Honestly—a kid could be drowning in that pool and he’d still be looking at you.”
Your face warms but you find yourself shaking your head because there was no way—there was absolutely no way—Steve Harrington would even be remotely interested in you. He was King Steve for god sake, he could have any girl he wanted. He wasn’t interested in a girl who was in the school’s marching band, who spent her lunches in the art studio.
“I’m serious,” Robin continues when you say nothing. “I’ve seen it every Saturday for the past five, six months and it drives me insane. I mean—you two are always checking each other out and hoping the other doesn’t notice.”
You chew on your bottom lip as you mull over Robin’s words—trying to ignore the notion of Steve Harrington checking you out because the idea of it was simply too much. You felt something dangerously close to hope tighten in your chest.
“Really?” You ask her finally, hoping she can’t see the desperately hopeful look on your face. “You really think that he—you know—”
“—likes you?” Robin asks. “Yeah. I really do.”
You mull over Robin’s words a lot after you both leave the locker room. You didn’t want to get your hopes up but you were already replaying the entire interaction with Steve from earlier. From the way his hand had planted itself on your waist like it belonged there, the way he had looked at you, had smiled at you, the fact he had called you his favourite swimmer—
You were so deep in thought that you didn’t register someone calling your name until Robin slapped you on the back of the head.
“Oh! Robin! What was that for—”
But your answer came in the form of Steve Harrington, jogging carefully towards you.
You’re pretty sure Robin says she’ll wait for you but you barely hear her when Steve is once again in front of you shirtless.
“Hey,” Steve greets you with an easy smile that devastates you with just how gorgeous this man was. “Glad I um, caught you before you left. Just wanted to check that you were okay.”
You find yourself nodding before he has even finished his sentence. “Yeah,” you tell him with a faint smile. “I’m—yeah—I’m great. Really.”
“Good,” Steve nods, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his swim trunks. Your gaze dips down to the trail of dark hair near the waistband and everything else around you blurs. God, you needed to pull yourself together before you did anything more to embarrass yourself—
“I um, I wanted to ask you something,” Steve says suddenly and you look up at him, grateful for the distraction.
“About joining the swim team?” You ask, hopeful because the idea of having an excuse to talk to Steve was immensely appealing. “Because we have some try outs coming up next week if you want to—”
“—no,” Steve says quickly with a shake of his head. “No, not about the swim team.”
“Oh,” you say, a little confused now. “Then what—”
“Doyouwanttogotopromwithme?”
You blink, you cannot for the life of you figure out what Steve had just said. You wonder briefly if he had just begun speaking an entirely different language.
“I—what?” You ask, genuinely confused by the jumble of words that had fallen from his lips.
Steve takes a deep breath and for the first time, you realise that he was nervous—that he was tapping his foot anxiously against the pool tile, that he was gnawing slightly on his lower lip, that his ears were burning a shade of red that almost perfectly matched his swim trunks. And realising that Steve was nervous made you feel a lot of things at once.
“I—I was just wondering if you,” Steve begins, taking another deep breath as though preparing for going into battle. “If you wanted to—you know—go to prom…with…with me?”
You didn’t say anything. You may have even stopped breathing entirely as you let Steve’s words wash over you.
Steve Harrington was asking you to prom and you could barely believe it.
The look of utter shock on your face must have been painfully obvious because Steve’s nerves quickly shifted into panic when you didn’t say a damn thing.
“I mean—if you don’t want to do that then that—that’s totally cool! You’ve probably got a date already which again—cool. I mean—you’re, you know, you’re smart and beautiful and you’ve probably had a bunch of guys already ask you—”
“—no, nobody else has asked me.” You say finally, finding your voice in the midst of the internal breakdown you were currently experiencing.
“Oh,” Steve exclaims, his shoulders deflating a little as he looks at you. “So—you just don’t want to go with me?”
You blink for several moments, trying to understand where on earth he had gotten that impression before realising you hadn’t even answered his question.
“No!” You quickly say with an almost frantic shake of your head. “I mean, yes! Yes! I—I wo-would really love to go to prom with you, Steve. I was just trying to wrap my head around the fact you were asking me—”
“—maybe seeing you nearly drown made me finally come to my senses,” Steve tells you, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tries not to smile and fails.
You find yourself experiencing a similar struggle, your face breaking out into a smile as you let out a laugh. “I didn’t nearly drown—”
“—I think you did and I think you did it to get my attention.”
“You’re ridiculous—”
“—and yet, you’re going to prom with me.”
It’s hard not to smile at that. “I can always take my ‘yes’ back, Harrington.”
“But you won’t.”
You smile even harder because he was right and he knew it.
“We’ll see,” you say, glancing towards the entrance where Robin was waiting for you. “You should probably get back to lifeguarding before somebody drowns.”
Steve laughs and the sound makes you feel warm because you had done that—made him laugh—and you had decided it was your favourite sound.
“I wouldn’t want that on my conscience,” Steve grins at you.
There’s a moment where you both simply look at each other, both not yet wanting to move before Steve is the one with the courage to lean in. His lips brush for a moment against your cheek and you swear your heart stops beating. You swear the world stops turning, that the birds stop singing and everything else around you ceases to exist—all except from Steve Harrington’s lips that were pressed against your cheek.
“See you at prom,” Steve murmurs against the warm skin of your cheek. “Wear that red swimsuit again for me?”
desc - hawkins high started a new progam - speak up ! - a system where students can anonymously talk to each other to get help on projects and school work. when you eventually check it out, the first thing you see on there is a note from farrahfawcettspray asking for help on the chemistry homework. and, being the kind soul you are, you respond to them.
val speaks - WOOO after some pondering i ended up rlly loving this one guys i hope u do too ++ i also j realised there were a couple ppls that were on my taglist that i wasn't tagging so im so very sorry for that but its updated properly now!!
word count: 8.2k
the glow of your desk lamp was the only thing lighting your room by the time you finally looked up from your history notes. outside, the sky had gone dark hours ago, the faint sound of crickets slipped through your cracked bedroom window. your pencil rolled from between your fingers as you stretched your arms above your head with a groan.
you hated homework.
not because you were bad at school, you actually did pretty well, but because hawkins high suddenly seemed obsessed with making everyone miserable this year.
especially with that stupid new program.
speak up!
even the name sounded fake cheerful.
principal higgins had introduced it last monday during assembly, standing awkwardly behind the microphone while half the gym ignored him.
“students can anonymously communicate with one another for educational assistance,” he’d explained proudly. “it’s designed to encourage collaboration and improve grades schoolwide.”
translation?
people who were too embarrassed to ask for help could hide behind fake usernames instead.
at first everyone thought it was ridiculous.
tommy hagan had loudly called it “nerd tinder,” earning laughs from half the basketball team while teachers pretended not to hear him. even your friends spent lunch making fun of it.
you did too, honestly.
because seriously, who was actually going to use some weird school messaging board to ask strangers for chemistry help?
apparently a lot of people.
you stared at the chunky old computer sitting on your desk. it hummed loudly by the time it turned on, the screen flickering slightly before stabilising. your parents bought it for christmas years ago after you begged them for one, though now it was mostly used for homework and occasionally typing essays before the printer jammed for the hundredth time.
still, it worked.
eventually.
you chewed the inside of your cheek before leaning forward and typing in the school website address.
the login page for speak up! popped onto the screen.
you almost backed out immediately.
this was dumb.
you had friends if you needed help. normal people had friends. or classmates. or literally anyone else besides anonymous weirdos online.
but, you kinda understood the idea.
there were definitely people at school who acted too cool to ask questions in class. people who’d rather fail than admit they didn’t get something.
plus, maybe some kids just didn’t have anyone.
with a small sigh, you clicked register username.
after thinking for a second, your fingers typed:
uptowngirl
creative? no.
but the billy joel song had been stuck in your head all week and honestly you couldn’t think of anything else.
once you logged in, a long list of posts appeared on the screen.
and wow.
people were actually using this thing.
messages filled the page.
can someone explain algebra 3 page 52?
need help studying for bio test.
is anyone good at essay editing?
you blinked.
okay. maybe principal higgins wasn’t completely insane.
your eyes scanned lazily down the page until one username made you snort.
farrahfawcettspray: Need help with chem homework. Seriously desperate.
you laughed quietly to yourself.
there was no way that was a guy, right?
you literally had the exact same can of farrah fawcett hairspray sitting on your dresser.
for a second you considered logging off, but you had already finished the chemistry assignment. and it honestly wasn’t that hard once you understood it.
before you could overthink it, you clicked their profile and typed:
uptowngirl: hey, you said you need help with chem?
you expected to wait at least a few minutes for a response.
instead one came instantly.
farrahfawcettspray: Please
you smiled despite yourself.
dramatic.
you started trying to explain the worksheet the best you could.
uptowngirl: okay so for number 4 you have to balance the equation first
farrahfawcettspray: What equation
you stared.
uptowngirl: the one on the page?
farrahfawcettspray: Oh jesus christ
a laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
for the next twenty minutes the two of you went back and forth. you genuinely tried helping at first, but after realising they seemed completely and utterly lost, you finally gave up and just started feeding them the answers directly.
honestly, whoever they were, chemistry clearly was not their thing.
finally another message popped up.
farrahfawcettspray: You’re a lifesaver, thanks uptown girl
you frowned for half a second before remembering that was your username.
uptowngirl: no problem farrah
a response came immediately.
farrahfawcettspray: Don’t call me that
you grinned.
uptowngirl: goodnight farrah
you logged off before they could answer.
shutting down the computer took nearly five whole minutes, the thing whining dramatically as the screen slowly faded black.
you got ready for bed afterward feeling strangely… good. like you’d actually helped someone.
-
the next morning at school, you told your friends about it during lunch.
“wait,” your friend laughed around a mouthful of fries, “you actually used speak up?”
you groaned. “only once.”
“oh my god.”
“shut up.”
“was it romantic?” another teased dramatically. “anonymous study flirting?”
you rolled your eyes. “they barely knew what an equation was.”
that got another round of laughter from the table.
still, you found yourself smiling too.
the whole thing was kinda funny.
by the end of the day you’d almost forgotten about it completely.
hawkins high emptied fast once the final bell rang, students flooding into the parking lot in loud clusters. you adjusted your bag higher on your shoulder as you headed toward the front doors, already mentally preparing yourself for the walk home.
your house wasn’t exactly close.
but the shortcut you found through the side streets cut the trip almost in half.
the october air was chilly enough to sting your cheeks as you walked, leaves crunching beneath your shoes. the neighborhood was quiet this time of day, most people still at work.
you were halfway down the street when you heard a car slow behind you.
your heartbeat jumped instantly.
you turned slightly and immediately wished you hadn’t.
a familiar bmw rolled beside you.
of course.
steve harrington sat in the driver’s seat, one hand lazily on the wheel. tommy was leaned halfway across the passenger seat already grinning like an idiot while carol lounged in the back.
you rolled your eyes and faced forward again.
keep walking, ignore them. easy.
the car crawled beside you anyway.
“hey!” tommy called.
you kept walking.
“hey sweetheart, why’s a pretty girl like you walking home all alone?”
carol smacked the back of his head immediately.
“god, tommy.”
“ow-”
from the corner of your eye you caught steve shooting tommy some annoyed look before glancing at you briefly.
you just smiled sweetly then flipped them off without breaking stride.
there was a beat of silence then tommy barked out an offended laugh.
“bitch!”
the bmw sped off ahead of you with a screech.
you sighed heavily.
god, you hated those people.
tommy and carol were the worst, loud, mean, constantly acting like hawkins high revolved around them.
and steve harrington?
honestly, you didn’t know him enough personally to hate him the same way but the rumors definitely didn’t help.
every girl in school seemed obsessed with him for reasons you couldn’t understand beyond the hair and the stupidly perfect face. supposedly he’d dated half the girls in hawkins already, and every story made him sound more arrogant than the last.
definitely not your type, not even close.
by the time you finally got home, the sky had darkened into deep blue.
the house was empty.
your parents were both working late again.
you dropped your bag by the stairs, called out a halfhearted “hello?” anyway, then headed upstairs after grabbing a soda from the fridge.
you weren’t really hungry.
your room was warm compared to the chilly outside air, and you immediately sat at your desk with a sigh, pulling your homework toward you.
math first.
then english.
then maybe death.
after about twenty minutes, your eyes drifted toward the computer sitting beside you.
the screen was dark.
you hesitated then reached over and turned it on.
the machine groaned loudly in protest.
“c’mon” you muttered.
eventually the screen flickered to life.
you logged into speak up! mostly out of curiosity.
the second your profile loaded, a notification popped up instantly.
1 new message from farrahfawcettspray
your eyebrows lifted.
you clicked it.
farrahfawcettspray: I failed the chem quiz
you laughed before typing back.
uptowngirl: that sounds like a you problem
three dots appeared almost immediately.
farrahfawcettspray: Wow. Cruel.
uptowngirl: you survived though
farrahfawcettspray: Barely
you smiled a little without meaning to.
there was something weirdly easy about talking like this. maybe because you didn’t know who they were. no awkwardness. no trying to act cool.
just words on a screen.
another message appeared.
farrahfawcettspray: You got homework tonight?
uptowngirl: obviously
farrahfawcettspray: Wanna help me again?
you snorted softly.
hopeless, completely hopeless. and somehow, for some reason, you typed back anyway.
uptowngirl: fine. but this is the last time, farrah.
there was a pause.
then:
farrahfawcettspray: You really like calling me that huh
you grinned at the screen.
maybe this whole speak up thing wasn’t so stupid after all.
-
somewhere along the way, logging onto speak up! became part of your routine.
you’d get home from school, dump your bag by your desk, complain your way through homework, eat whatever leftovers were in the fridge, then eventually sit down in front of your computer with the quiet expectation that there’d already be a message waiting for you.
and there usually was.
sometimes it was something dramatic like:
farrahfawcettspray: I think Mrs o’donnell genuinely enjoys watching teenagers suffer.
or-
farrahfawcettspray: If i fail math i’m becoming a criminal.
other times it was just:
farrahfawcettspray: You there?
simple.
stupidly simple.
but somehow it always made you smile.
you didn’t really talk to anyone else on the site anymore. not because you meant to stop helping other people, it just.. happened naturally. every time you logged on, you found yourself clicking the same username first.
and apparently he did too.
you learned pretty quickly that “farrah” was definitely not a girl.
that discovery came after nearly two weeks of talking.
uptowngirl: serious question
farrahfawcettspray: Uh oh
uptowngirl: why the hell is that your username if you’re a guy
there’d been a long pause before the reply finally came through.
farrahfawcettspray: My sister was talking about hairspray when i made the account
you stared at the screen.
huh.
that actually made sense. kind of.
uptowngirl: still weird
farrahfawcettspray: You’re literally named after a billy joel song
fair point.
you didn’t learn much else about him after that.
not big things, anyway.
he wasn’t great at schoolwork, that became painfully obvious very quickly, but he didn’t seem stupid. honestly, sometimes he said things that surprised you. little observations that were funny or weirdly thoughtful in ways you didn’t expect.
mostly though, your conversations were random.
complaining about teachers, ranting about homework, talking about the absolute freaks wandering the halls of hawkins high.
without naming names, obviously.
farrahfawcettspray: Someone left their lunch in the locker room and it smelled like sweaty fish for a week
uptowngirl: what does sweaty fish even smell like
farrahfawcettspray: Death
or
uptowngirl: i watched someone trip over absolutely nothing in the cafeteria today
farrahfawcettspray: That might’ve been me
uptowngirl: honestly wouldn’t surprise me
you started looking forward to those conversations more than you probably should have.
it was weird.
because you didn’t know him, not really. you tried figuring it out sometimes, usually while lying awake at night after logging off.
you mentally ran through people at school constantly.
who had a sister? who hated chemistry this much? who wanted a big family someday?
who said they wanted to buy an rv and drive around the country because “hawkins is depressing as shit”?
who admitted they could only sleep on the side of the bed closest to the wall because they were scared something would grab their ankle from underneath?
that one had made you laugh so hard you almost woke your parents up.
uptowngirl: you are literally a child
farrahfawcettspray: You say that now until a monster grabs your leg
uptowngirl: from under the bed??
farrahfawcettspray: YES
uptowngirl: you’re insane
but the more you thought about it, the more you realised the things you knew about him weren’t really things that narrowed anyone down.
they were too personal, too strange.
you couldn’t exactly walk through school looking at people and think:
yeah, he definitely sleeps facing the wall because he’s scared of bed monsters.
or
that guy absolutely wants six kids someday.
it didn’t work like that.
maybe that was the point, maybe this was all supposed to be.
just some weird invisible string tying you to a stranger.
still, was it weird that you felt like you liked him? not even physically, you didn’t know what he looked like.
didn’t know his voice, didn’t know how he laughed or walked or what color his eyes were.
but after weeks of talking every single night, it started feeling like you did know him in a way.
you knew the version of him behind the screen. you knew he was dramatic. and funny. and kind of an idiot.
you knew he hated peas with an alarming amount of passion, you knew he procrastinated every assignment until the absolute last second. you knew he got attached to stupid things easily because he once spent ten full minutes ranting after losing a lighter he “connected to.”
you knew him.
just not who he actually was.
just not who he…
was.
yeah.
oops.
-
one friday night, your friend convinced you to stay over at her house.
between movies, junk food, and listening to her complain about her ex-boyfriend for almost two straight hours, you honestly didn’t think about the weird little web page once.
not until the next afternoon when you finally got home.
your house was quiet when you walked in, duffel bag slipping from your shoulder onto the floor with a thud.
almost immediately, your brain went:
check the computer.
which was ridiculous, completely ridiculous. still, you headed upstairs.
the computer took forever to load like always, buzzing loudly while the screen slowly flickered alive.
you logged in and immediately saw two unread messages.
your stomach did a weird little flip before you could stop it.
farrahfawcettspray: Never guess what happened to me today
then, sent hours later:
farrahfawcettspray: Tough crowd
you smiled automatically.
god.
you typed back quickly.
uptowngirl: sorry! stayed at my friend’s house last night
uptowngirl: what happened??
the response came almost instantly like he’d been online already.
farrahfawcettspray: I got home and realised i left my window open
uptowngirl: okay?
farrahfawcettspray: There was a fucking fat frog sitting on my bed
you burst out laughing alone in your room.
actually laughing.
uptowngirl: you’re lying
farrahfawcettspray: Why would i lie about this
uptowngirl: because frogs can’t climb houses??
the typing bubble appeared immediately.
farrahfawcettspray: THEY CAN
uptowngirl: no they can’t
farrahfawcettspray: One was literally on my bed
uptowngirl: maybe it walked in
farrahfawcettspray: Through a second story window??
uptowngirl: good point
farrahfawcettspray: Thank you
for the next twenty minutes, the two of you argued about frog climbing abilities. twenty whole minutes. which honestly should’ve concerned you more than it did.
eventually you leaned back in your chair, smiling at the screen like an idiot.
god, he was stupid.
the thought came naturally now. comfortable. fond, almost.
and immediately after that came another thought.
was he?
you frowned slightly at the screen.
because really you didn’t know.
you didn’t know if he was tall or short, popular or invisible, funny in real life or just online.
you didn’t know if you’d even like him face to face and somehow that was the strangest part of all.
feeling this connected to someone whose face you couldn’t even picture.
-
more weeks passed so quickly it almost made you sick.
somehow talking to him had become the most normal thing in the world.
you’d wake up, go to school, come home, and somewhere in between all of it you’d find yourself thinking about whatever stupid thing he’d said the night before.
sometimes you caught yourself almost telling your friends about him before stopping at the last second.
because what even was he?
some anonymous guy from school you talked to every night?
it sounded ridiculous when you thought about it too hard.
still, the conversations never stopped. if anything, they got longer, easier.
and lately, you could tell you were both trying, very discreetly, to figure each other out.
not outright asking names or anything obvious, just little things.
tiny questions hidden inside normal conversation.
farrahfawcettspray: What were you wearing today?
you’d immediately narrowed your eyes at the screen.
uptowngirl: why
farrahfawcettspray: Curious
uptowngirl: that sounds suspicious
farrahfawcettspray: Or maybe i just care deeply about fashion
you snorted.
another time
uptowngirl: you said your shoes got soaked today. what shoes?
farrahfawcettspray: Nice try
you’d rolled your eyes so hard it hurt.
it became a game after a while.
you weren’t even sure if you wanted him to know who you were, that was the weird part. it wasn’t that you were embarrassed of yourself. you weren’t.
but after months of talking like this, what if he’d built some version of you in his head that didn’t match reality?
what if you disappointed him?
or worse what if he disappointed you?
it was stupid, completely stupid, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts anyway.
-
today had felt normal at first.
cold morning air, crowded hallways, just another day at hawkins high. then suddenly over the speakers came principal higgins’ voice.
“all students report to the gymnasium for assembly.”
the entire school groaned collectively.
you slumped back in your seat.
“if this is about safe sex again i’m leaving” your friend muttered beside you.
the gym was loud when everyone piled in, sneakers squeaking across the polished floor as students shoved into bleachers. you sat wedged between your friends half-listening while principal higgins adjusted the microphone awkwardly.
“i’ll keep this brief” he started.
already a lie.
you zoned out almost immediately until one phrase suddenly snapped you back to attention.
“the speak up! program-”
your head lifted.
“-will officially be shutting down at the end of the semester.”
your stomach dropped.
“…what?” you muttered under your breath.
around you, barely anyone reacted.
a few students laughed.
someone yelled “finally.”
principal higgins kept rambling.
“unfortunately, participation has remained low, and despite initial hopes, there hasn’t been a significant increase in overall grades-”
your friends looked entirely unbothered.
“knew that thing was stupid” one of them whispered.
“seriously who even used it?”
you forced out a little laugh along with them.
but honestly? you barely heard the rest of the assembly. because all you could think was the guy. how were you supposed to talk to him now? would you still talk to him?
would he even want to?
“the website will officially close four weeks from today” principal higgins finished.
four weeks.
shit.
-
that night, the first thing you did when you got home was turn your computer on.
you probably would’ve anyway but now it felt different.
the machine hummed loudly while loading, and for once you sat impatiently tapping your fingers against the desk waiting for it to hurry up.
the second you logged in, you opened your messages.
then typed quickly:
uptowngirl: were you in the assembly today?
there was a pause.
then:
farrahfawcettspray: Yeah. I was literally just gonna ask you that
you leaned back slightly.
uptowngirl: it’s so stupid they’re shutting it down
farrahfawcettspray: Right? Some of us actually use this thing
uptowngirl: exactly
then after a second:
uptowngirl: okay maybe not for homework anymore
he replied immediately.
farrahfawcettspray: Yeah we definitely stopped pretending awhile ago
you smiled despite the weird ache sitting in your chest.
the two of you eventually agreed to just keep talking normally and when the site closed, it closed.
that was it.
when it’s over, it’s over.
simple.
or at least that’s what you told yourselves.
and somehow, after awhile, talking to him like usual made you almost forget anything was wrong at all.
-
the next day at school, you were heading toward your locker when you heard familiar voices echoing down the hallway.
tommy.
carol.
steve.
you tried ignoring them.
really, you did.
but then tommy loudly said, “god, some people at this school are actually painful to look at.”
carol snorted immediately.
you glanced over just in time to see them both staring at some poor freshman walking away red-faced.
your expression soured.
same old shit.
steve stood beside them leaning against the lockers, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. he barely chuckled, more out of obligation than actual amusement.
still, he laughed.
you rolled your eyes and kept walking.
honestly, you wondered if they’d ever actually grow up.
-
that night, you found yourself ranting about it online.
without names, obviously.
uptowngirl: some people at school genuinely act like they’re still twelve
there was a longer pause than usual before he answered.
farrahfawcettspray: Do your friends ever piss you off?
you blinked slightly at the screen.
that felt random.
uptowngirl: how so
another pause.
farrahfawcettspray: Like in general
your brows furrowed.
uptowngirl: not all the time
uptowngirl: friends aren’t really supposed to make you feel bad constantly
there was a moment before the reply came through.
farrahfawcettspray: Oh
you sat up a little straighter.
uptowngirl: is it all your friends?
farrahfawcettspray: Kinda
you frowned.
uptowngirl: then make new ones
almost instantly:
farrahfawcettspray: Not that easy
you stared at the words for a second then shrugged it off.
he was right, you guessed.
maybe he was one of the quieter kids at school. the kind who got stuck with shitty people because they didn’t know how to leave them.
you knew people like that.
still, the conversation stayed in your head longer than it probably should have.
-
a week passed.
three weeks left.
three weeks until the website disappeared.
three weeks until mystery guy disappeared with it.
you tried not to think about it too much.
failed miserably.
that night, your room was dark except for the glow of the computer screen when his message suddenly appeared.
farrahfawcettspray: Will i ever know who you are?
your heartbeat stumbled slightly.
you stared at the sentence for way too long before typing back.
uptowngirl: i thought you said when it’s over it’s over
uptowngirl: why does it matter?
his response came faster than usual.
farrahfawcettspray: Screw that
you swallowed.
uptowngirl: why do you even wanna know?
another pause.
longer this time.
then
farrahfawcettspray: Why don’t you?
you froze.
because honestly?
you didn’t have a good answer. there wasn’t one big dramatic reason, just your own stupid thoughts. your own worries.
what if he expected someone cooler? prettier? funnier?
what if meeting ruined whatever this was?
you stared at the blinking cursor for almost a full minute before finally typing:
uptowngirl: i don’t know
for once, he didn’t joke.
didn’t tease you.
just
farrahfawcettspray: Okay
the simple response weirdly made your chest hurt.
then another message appeared.
farrahfawcettspray: What if we compromise?
you frowned slightly.
uptowngirl: how
there was a pause before his answer came through.
farrahfawcettspray: The day the website closes is prom right?
your stomach tightened immediately.
uptowngirl: yeah
farrahfawcettspray: We meet then
your eyes widened slightly.
farrahfawcettspray: Not a whole big thing
farrahfawcettspray: Just somewhere behind the school or something
farrahfawcettspray: So we know
your pulse had started beating noticeably faster now.
you read the messages twice. three times.
farrahfawcettspray: And if it’s awkward or terrible or whatever
farrahfawcettspray: We just go back to our lives
farrahfawcettspray: Deal?
you stared at the screen.
your reflection stared back faintly from the monitor.
this suddenly felt terrifying. and exciting. and horrifying.
all at once.
but maybe he was right. what could really go that wrong?
slowly, you typed back
uptowngirl: okay
almost immediately:
farrahfawcettspray: Okay
your heart thudded harder against your ribs.
in three weeks, you’d finally know who he was.
-
the last three weeks somehow felt unbearably slow and way too fast all at once.
every day dragged.
every night disappeared.
it didn’t help that exam season had officially started, meaning every teacher at school suddenly decided their class was the most important thing on earth.
you were stressed constantly.
your room became a mess of textbooks, loose papers, highlighters, half-empty soda cans and crumpled notes. your desk lamp stayed on until stupid hours of the night while you studied until your eyes hurt.
still somehow, despite all that, the thing making your stomach twist the most wasn’t even exams.
it was prom.
well.
not prom itself, the reveal.
you wouldn’t exactly call it stress. more like nervousness that kept sneaking up on you at random moments.
because holy shit.
you were actually going to meet him and every time you thought about it for too long your brain immediately spiraled.
what if he saw you and regretted everything?
what if you did?
what if it got awkward instantly?
what if one of you didn’t show up at all?
you tried not to think about it.
failed miserably.
honestly though, exams distracted you enough that the days still moved quickly. surprisingly, you actually thought you were doing pretty well too.
and apparently mystery guy was absolutely not.
somewhere during the second week, your conversations somehow circled all the way back to how they first started.
him begging for academic help.
farrahfawcettspray: I’m dropping out
you snorted quietly at your desk before replying.
uptowngirl: dramatic
farrahfawcettspray: Just failed so hard i saw my future
uptowngirl: you said after the first exam you were “done trying”
farrahfawcettspray: Yeah well now i’m scared
you laughed under your breath then spent the next hour helping him study anyway. again.
you honestly should’ve charged him tutoring fees at that point.
-
when exams finally ended, there was only one week left until prom. one week left until you found out who he was.
after that, the teasing started.
mostly from him.
farrahfawcettspray: You nervous?
uptowngirl: not even slightly
farrahfawcettspray: Liar
uptowngirl: you wish
farrahfawcettspray: You’re gonna see me and faint
you rolled your eyes so hard you nearly gave yourself a headache.
uptowngirl: keep dreaming farrah
he immediately sent back:
farrahfawcettspray: You still call me that after all this time. Cruel.
still, despite your constant denial, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
you were nervous. terribly so.
thankfully, dress shopping with your friends ended up distracting you for at least one full day.
you all made an entire event out of it. trying on ridiculous dresses just to laugh at each other, eating greasy mall food afterward, arguing over colors and shoes and hairstyles.
for awhile, things felt normal again.
easy.
you ended up buying a buttercup yellow dress that honestly looked really good on you.
it complimented your skin perfectly, hugged your waist just right, and made you feel prettier than you expected.
at least if everything went horribly wrong, you’d still look hot doing it.
-
a few days before prom, the two of you finally made a more solid plan.
simple, easy. less terrifying that way.
at 8:00, he’d go outside to the field behind the school.
at 8:05, you’d follow after him.
that way nobody would really notice you leaving together.
you appreciated that because honestly? the idea of everyone finding out about this made you want to die.
-
then suddenly it was prom night and you were nervous enough to throw up.
your hands shook slightly while fixing your hair in the mirror, your mom fussing over you while insisting you looked beautiful.
which, honestly?
you kinda did.
the yellow dress looked even better all done up properly. your hair sat perfectly for once, your makeup actually cooperated, and when you looked in the mirror you almost felt bad for mystery guy.
almost.
prom itself was exactly what you expected.
too loud, too warm, too many people packed into one room pretending the decorations didn’t look cheap.
still, it was fun enough.
you drank several unfortunately non-alcoholic punch cups, mingled with your friends, danced a little when forced to, and spent most of the evening pretending you weren’t constantly checking the time.
then suddenly 7:58.
your stomach dropped.
7:59.
holy shit.
8:00.
you immediately looked toward the doors.
five minutes, five minutes until you met him.
for a horrible second, you were tempted to stand there and watch the exit like a hawk. just wait and see who slipped outside.
but no. no, you’d waited this long. you could wait five more minutes.
probably.
another part of you briefly considered just not going at all.
seriously.
you could stay right here, pretend none of this ever happened.
but then what?
go home? never talk to him again?
the website would probably be deleted tonight.
this was it.
your heart hammered painfully against your ribs.
one of your friends noticed your weird expression almost immediately.
“you okay?”
“yeah,” you lied quickly. “just hot in here.”
“want me to come outside with you?”
“no!”
they blinked at your immediate response.
you forced a smaller smile. “i’m fine. seriously.”
it still took another minute of convincing and multiple be safes and don’t stay gone forevers before they finally let you leave alone.
the walk toward the field felt endless.
seriously endless.
you were convinced the path had physically grown longer somehow.
your heels clicked nervously against the pavement while your mind spiraled violently. was it that guy from health class? was it the one you once saw picking his nose behind the bleachers? was it that angry dude always getting into fights?
your heartbeat got faster with every step.
then you saw someone standing near the benches by the field.
just the back of them.
but honestly?
anyone would recognize that hair.
steve harrington.
your entire body stopped.
what.
the.
fuck.
your brain completely blanked.
there was absolutely no way. no actual way.
you must’ve made some noise because before you could even think about turning around and sprinting back inside, he turned too.
his eyebrows shot upward immediately when he saw you.
you both stared at each other in complete shock.
then at the exact same time:
“you’re-”
you both stopped.
silence.
then slowly, awkwardly, you both nodded.
steve let out a breathy huff of disbelief before a small smile pulled at his mouth.
and honestly?
you couldn’t stop staring.
because somehow it made sense now.
the humor. the dramatic texting. the stupid confidence covering up actual insecurity.
oh my god.
you squinted at him suddenly.
“you don’t have a sister.”
his face immediately changed.
“…what?”
“you told me you picked the username because your sister was talking about the spray.”
steve looked away, then back at you, then dragged a hand down his face with a groan.
“yeah, okay, i lied.”
you stared then barked out a laugh.
“you use farrah fawcett spray?”
he pointed at you immediately. “swear to god if you tell anyone-”
you laughed harder, holding your hands up in surrender.
“okay, okay!”
his expression twisted into embarrassed annoyance while you grinned at him.
god.
of course it was him.
steve glanced awkwardly toward a nearby bench before nodding toward it. you hesitated only a second before following him over and sitting beside him.
for a moment, neither of you spoke.
it suddenly felt so strange hearing the voice attached to the messages.
then steve looked over at you, squinting slightly.
“so…” he said slowly.
you looked back at him.
he pointed vaguely.
“uptown girl.”
you bit back a smile immediately because the expression on his face was so genuinely baffled.
you nodded once.
“…yeah.”
he huffed out another laugh.
for awhile, the conversation was awkward, not horribly awkward, just strange.
you’d spent months talking nonstop and suddenly neither of you knew where to start now that you were face to face.
still, eventually it got easier.
little laughs slipped in naturally. comfortable silences too. you found yourself relaxing without realising it.
then finally you admitted, “i was not expecting it to be someone like you.”
steve raised an eyebrow.
“someone like me?”
“yeah,” you said honestly. “i thought i couldn’t stand you.”
he scoffed softly, glancing away.
“fair.”
you smiled slightly.
then he looked back at you.
“didn’t expect you either.”
you grinned. “upset it’s not someone who’ll sleep with you?”
he side-eyed you immediately, giving you the dirtiest look imaginable.
it made you laugh.
then suddenly he smirked.
“who says you won’t?”
you stared at him flatly.
he laughed quietly at your expression.
god, there he was. the real steve harrington finally showing up.
after awhile, you sighed softly and glanced back toward the school.
“i should probably head inside.”
steve nodded a little.
“yeah.”
“but…” you paused, trying to find the right word. “thank you for being my…”
you trailed off, and when you looked back at him, there was something almost hopeful in his expression.
“…friend” you finished quietly.
his smile softened immediately then he held his hand out toward you dramatically. you laughed under your breath before shaking it.
“yeah,” he said softly. “thanks.”
you started turning back toward the school.
then
“wait.”
you looked back.
steve rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before speaking again.
“can this not be… like, the end?”
you blinked.
“huh?”
“i mean,” he said quickly, “i still wanna talk to you.”
something warm twisted in your chest.
you sighed dramatically instead to cover it.
“do you have paper?”
he blinked at you.
“…obviously not.”
you rolled your eyes.
“do you at least have a pen?”
“maybe in my car.”
you nodded immediately. “okay. c’mon.”
he looked confused but led you toward the parking lot anyway.
once you got there, steve dug around inside the bmw until finally finding a pen shoved somewhere in the center console.
“ha” he said proudly.
you snorted before grabbing his wrist.
he looked startled as you pushed his jacket sleeve up slightly.
then realisation hit his face.
“oh.”
before writing anything, you paused dramatically.
“if i do this,” you said, “you have to get your annoying ass friends to leave me alone.”
steve smiled slightly.
“i’ll see what i can do-”
you gave him a look immediately.
“okay, okay,” he laughed. “fine. i’ll tell them to lay off.”
“thank you.”
carefully, you wrote your number across his forearm. his eyes stayed on your face the entire time, which absolutely did not make your heart beat faster. not at all.
when you finished, you stepped back slightly.
then quietly, before leaving, you said
“you’re better than them, steve.”
his expression shifted immediately.
you smiled softly.
“much better.”
for a second he just looked at you, really looked at you. then slowly, he smiled too. and somehow it looked nothing like the smug cocky smiles you’d seen in school hallways.
this one felt real.
you turned then, heading back toward prom with your heartbeat still all over the place.
and for the first time in months, mystery guy wasn’t a mystery anymore.
-
walking back into prom after meeting steve felt strange in the best possible way, like somehow the whole room looked different now.
the lights hanging from the ceiling seemed warmer, the music sounded less annoying, even the sweaty overcrowded gym somehow felt easier to breathe in. your cheeks actually hurt from smiling by the time you made it back to your friends.
which unfortunately meant they noticed immediately.
one of them narrowed her eyes the second you sat back down at the table.
“okay. what happened.”
you grabbed your drink quickly to hide your smile. “nothing.”
“bullshit.”
“seriously.”
another one gasped dramatically. “oh my god she kissed someone.”
you nearly choked on your drink. “what? no!”
“then why do you look like that?”
“like what?”
“like you’re in love.”
you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, laughing despite yourself while they all continued trying to interrogate you. but honestly? you didn’t even mind.
because your chest still felt warm from sitting beside steve outside. from hearing his voice say uptown girl out loud. from realising that somehow, impossibly, the person you’d spent months talking to was him.
god.
if someone had told you months ago that the boy you couldn’t stand would end up becoming your favorite person to talk to, you would’ve laughed directly in their face.
yet here you were.
the rest of the night passed in this happy blur.
you danced with your friends until your feet hurt, got dragged into stupid prom photos you’d probably cringe at later, and every now and then you’d spot steve somewhere across the room.
sometimes he’d already be looking at you. every single time it happened, he’d smirk slightly. and every single time your stomach flipped embarrassingly hard.
-
somehow by the end of the night you ended up at an afterparty. you honestly had no clue whose house it even was. someone said some girl from another school was throwing it, and suddenly everybody was piling into cars and driving there like it was the event of the century.
the house was packed. absolutely packed. music blasted loud enough to shake the floorboards, people crowded every room, and the air inside was thick with sweat, cheap perfume and alcohol.
actual alcohol this time.
which explained why after your third drink you started feeling significantly warmer and significantly less capable of making good decisions.
still, you were having fun. a lot of fun, actually. you laughed so hard at one point your stomach hurt, though later you couldn’t even remember what was so funny.
eventually though the heat inside the house became unbearable. your head felt fuzzy and your skin felt sticky and suddenly all you wanted was air. so, you slipped outside quietly, shutting the door behind you with a relieved sigh.
the cool night breeze hit your face immediately.
“oh thank god” you muttered dramatically.
then your eyes landed on someone sitting near the side of the porch.
steve. he sat alone on the curb, cigarette between his fingers, staring down at the pavement.
you smiled automatically, of course he was outside. but as you walked closer, your smile faded slightly.
he looked pissed. not angry exactly, more upset. his jaw was tense and his shoulders were tight in that way people got when they were trying really hard not to let something bother them.
you almost considered turning around and leaving him alone. almost. but you were already too close now. plus, liquid courage was a beautiful thing.
when steve finally noticed you approaching, he quickly dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe before offering you a tight-lipped smile.
“hey.”
“hey,” you answered slowly, stopping beside him. “what’s up with you?”
“nothing.”
you stared at him.
“steve.”
“i’m serious.”
“come onnn,” you whined dramatically, nudging his shoulder lightly with yours. “you tell me everything.”
his eyes flicked toward you at that, something softened there for a second. then he sighed heavily and looked down at the ground before lowering himself onto the curb fully.
you sat beside him immediately.
for a minute neither of you spoke. music thumped faintly through the walls behind you while cars occasionally passed in the distance.
then finally steve spoke quietly.
“i hope you’re right.”
you frowned slightly. “about what?”
he rubbed his palms together once before muttering
“about me being better than my friends.”
your expression softened instantly.
“what happened?”
he laughed quietly. not in a funny way, more tired. “what didn’t happen?”
you stayed quiet, letting him continue.
after a second he sighed again.
“they were being assholes to some guy inside.”
you immediately knew who “they” meant.
tommy. carol. probably half the people they hung around too.
“just relentless,” steve muttered. “wouldn’t leave him alone.”
he picked absentmindedly at the label peeling off a beer bottle nearby.
“i told them to stop.”
you looked at him carefully. “and?”
“and tommy started calling me a pussy.”
your jaw tightened immediately.
steve shrugged like he was trying not to care.
“said i’ve gotten soft lately.”
you hated how casually he said it, like he’d heard things like that a hundred times before.
“so i left.”
he gestured vaguely around them.
“and here we are.”
you sighed softly. for a second you just sat there looking at him, really looking at him. and honestly? he looked exhausted. not physically, just tired of pretending. tired of acting like somebody he didn’t even seem to like anymore.
you nudged his shoulder gently.
“they’ll probably get over it.”
steve huffed out a small laugh. “yeah?”
“yeah,” you smiled slightly. “you are kinda the leader of the pack.”
that earned a real smile from him, small, but real. still, it faded quickly.
“that’s the thing,” he admitted quietly. “i hate that.”
you tilted your head. “then stop.”
“stop what?”
“being friends with them.”
he immediately gave you a look.
“you’ve literally said this before.”
“because i’m right.”
“i can’t just drop them.”
“why not?”
he opened his mouth. closed it again. then shrugged helplessly. “i don’t know. it’d be weird.”
you snorted softly.
“weird for who?”
“everyone’ll be up my ass about it.”
you shrugged lazily. “who cares?”
steve looked at you for a second like he genuinely wished he could think like that.
then silence settled again.
but honestly, your drunk brain couldn’t stay focused for very long. after a minute you suddenly stood up. “i’m going back inside.”
steve looked up at you from where he sat. then without thinking, you held your hand out toward him dramatically.
“c’mon, harrington.”
his eyes flicked down to your hand. for a second you thought he’d ignore it, instead he took it. you pulled him up with a grin.
“i’m gonna stay out here and smoke another cigarette first” he said.
immediately your nose scrunched.
“gross.”
he laughed quietly.
“then i’ll come in.”
you nodded once.
“okay.”
you and steve somehow never found each other again that night after that
-
break started almost immediately after prom.
suddenly there was no school. no exams. no teachers. just endless warm days stretching ahead of you.
and somehow steve became part of nearly all of them.
at first, it was mostly phone calls. almost every night.
which felt weird initially because now you knew who he was. you weren’t staring at a screen anymore waiting for little messages to appear. now it was his actual voice in your ear while you laid in bed staring at the ceiling.
sometimes you’d catch yourself smiling halfway through conversations for absolutely no reason.
you got used to it surprisingly quickly though.
you’d spend the day with friends or shopping or sitting around bored at home, and eventually every night ended the same way. talking to steve until one of you got too sleepy to keep the conversation going.
sometimes the talks lasted hours. about serious things, stupid things, everything.
one night you spent almost forty minutes debating whether cereal counted as soup.
it absolutely did not.
another night steve admitted he’d never actually learned how to cook anything beyond scrambled eggs and toast.
“how are you alive?”
then eventually, one afternoon, steve casually asked “wanna go out tomorrow?”
you blinked against the phone.
“…out?”
“yeah,” he answered quickly. “like, just us.”
your stomach flipped immediately.
“maybe the drive-in?”
there was this weird nervousness in his voice that made your chest ache a little.
“yeah,” you answered before you could overthink it. “okay.”
he picked you up the next evening at six.
honestly neither of you watched the movie. you tried, for maybe ten minutes, then somehow you started talking and never really stopped.
you learned steve hadn’t hung out with tommy or carol once over break.
that made you smile more than it probably should have.
because maybe he was finally realising he didn’t have to keep pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
at one point while absentmindedly eating popcorn, steve admitted quietly
“i think i like being just steve better.”
you looked over at him softly.
then he smirked slightly.
“or maybe i just like being farrahfawcettspray.”
you burst out laughing immediately.
god, you loved him.
well. not loved. probably, maybe.
okay maybe a little.
because after that first date, which neither of you actually called a date yet, things just naturally snowballed.
you and steve started hanging out constantly.
drives with the windows down and music blasting, shopping trips where he complained the entire time but still carried your bags, county fairs, late night fast food runs, movies, blanket forts. so many blanket forts.
once steve spent nearly an hour engineering one in his living room because apparently “structural integrity matters.”
his parents were never around, meaning his house quickly became your favorite place to be.
you’d never seen steve happier.
he laughed easier around you. acted softer, realer.
he didn’t have to be king steve with you, he could just exist.
and somewhere along the way, he realised he genuinely liked you more than anyone he’d ever met before which was terrifying.
on your side?
you were absolutely gone for him too. completely. hopelessly. but obviously you weren’t going to make the first move.
absolutely not.
you’d wait for when he makes the first move, if that time ever came.
-
surprisingly, it did.
it was nearing the end of the break, only one weekend left before school started again.
you already had plans with steve that night.
nothing unusual. a movie, some takeout.
normal.
but the second you got into his car, you noticed something was off.
he looked nervous, like genuinely nervous. you almost asked about it immediately but decided against it. still, the weird energy stayed the whole drive.
then he pulled into his driveway.
you reached to open the car door and suddenly his hand gently caught your arm. you turned toward him instantly.
he still looked nervous.
your stomach tightened.
“steve?”
he swallowed once before speaking.
“i’ve had some of the best conversations and honestly… some of the best times of my life with you.”
your expression softened immediately.
he laughed awkwardly under his breath.
“which is funny considering how we started.”
you smiled.
but before you could respond, he kept going quickly.
“and i want you to know i really like you.”
you stared at him.
“like really like you.”
he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
“and i was wondering if maybe tonight could maybe be a date.”
your smile spread instantly, so quickly your cheeks hurt. but your silence lasted just slightly too long because immediately steve panicked.
“you don’t have to say yes,” he rushed out quickly. “i just wanted you to know-”
“steve.”
he stopped immediately.
you laughed softly.
“i like you too.”
his eyes widened.
“…you do?”
you laughed harder now.
“obviously.”
the smile that spread across his face right then honestly might’ve been your favorite thing you’d ever seen.
he squeezed your arm gently before grinning.
“c’mon then.”
then suddenly he looked ridiculously eager, which only confused you more when he immediately said
“close your eyes.”
you blinked. “what?”
“just trust me.”
laughing softly, you obeyed anyway.
he carefully led you inside while you tried not to trip over absolutely nothing.
eventually he stopped.
“okay.”
you opened your eyes and immediately melted.
the living room floor was covered in blankets and pillows, little lights hung around the room glowing softly, your favorite takeout sat on the coffee table and a movie was already waiting on the screen.
“steve…”
he shrugged immediately like it was nothing but there was a smug little blush sitting on his cheeks.
“it’s cute” you said honestly.
“yeah yeah.”
you grinned harder.
the two of you curled up together on the floor afterward, eating takeout and pretending to watch the movie.
mostly you watched steve slowly get sleepier beside you.
after the movie ended, his eyes were half closed already, hair messy from your fingers constantly running through it earlier.
you smiled softly then leaned over and kissed his cheek.
immediately his eyes opened.
before you could react properly, his hand gently cupped your face.
and then he kissed you.
properly.
finally.
and god it was everything.
his lips were impossibly soft.
the kiss started careful for about half a second before you both melted into it completely, finding rhythm naturally like you’d already done this a hundred times before. perfect. completely perfect.
when you finally pulled apart, steve looked at you with this expression that made you feel like your entire body might dissolve.
then he shifted slightly and pulled you down gently against his chest.
quietly, he murmured:
“i’m glad you decided to help me.”
you snorted softly against him.
“i’m glad you suck at chemistry.”
he laughed immediately and lightly smacked your arm.
eventually, somewhere tangled together beneath blankets and fairy lights, the two of you fell asleep.
and after that, everything naturally fell into place.
steve slowly drifted away from tommy and carol completely, he started hanging around different people. better people.
sometimes your people.
your friends met him properly and somehow immediately loved him, which honestly shocked you considering how much they used to complain about him.
but steve around you was different.
and now steve harrington, formerly known as farrahfawcettspray, was one of the most important people in your life.
And if they call me a slut
You know it might be worth it for once
Steve Harrington doesn't care what people think of you.
pairing: steve harrington x reader
words: 2.9k
contains: angst, eventual fluff, friends to lovers, established relationship, misogyny, misogynist slurs, slut shaming, mention of previous bullying, explicit language, references to sex and sexual acts, female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader.
author's note: day 7 of the 2k followers special! final day 🥺the request for a fic inspired by 'slut!' came from @aecd27 a couple of months back—thank you for the suggestion!
to be added to my taglist | masterlist | requests page
The word ‘slut’ has followed you since you were sixteen years old.
It had begun with a rumour. You were pretty sure you knew who had started it. You were almost positive that it was Sarah Mackenzie who had told Charlie Sharpe that you had lost your virginity to some guy at the trailer park. You knew it was her because you had accidentally thrown a ball in her face during volleyball practice and given her a nosebleed. She had clearly taken it very personally. Because despite the fact that the rumour was completely unfounded and not at all true, Charlie had believed it anyway. Not only had he believed it but he had told his friends who told their friends who told—well, everyone.
The word had been graffitied in obnoxiously pink paint over your locker before lunch the next day.
You didn’t really understand what the big deal was. Firstly because, the rumour wasn’t true and even if it was, the double standards felt painfully obvious. Guys at your school would talk quite openly about sex. They’d brag about it even, going into great detail about whoever they had hooked up with at a house party that weekend. But no, somehow being known as a slut was far worse than being a guy who jumped from girl to girl like they were disposable.
You thought the rumour would die eventually. That people would move on. But they didn’t.
Because another rumour—again, untrue—came only two weeks later. About a different guy. One who had a girlfriend. Apparently you had given him a blowjob behind the bike sheds. You hadn’t but that didn’t matter. You weren’t sure if Sarah was also behind the rumour but you wouldn’t have been surprised. People started to whisper about you as you walked by. Not only were you a slut, but also a homewrecker. You pretended as though you didn’t care. Like the word ‘slut’ hadn’t crept beneath your very skin and refused to leave.
The word had followed you through all of your junior year and into your senior year. You became numb to it at some point, rolling your eyes instead of bursting into tears. Guys treated you differently, girls were wary of you.
Had your best friend Robin Buckley not been by your side during your later high school years—you may have lost your mind. Whispers followed you wherever you went. You avoided guys like the plague. You didn’t want to draw any more attention to yourself, plus the guys who were interested in you were only really interested in you for one thing. You told yourself that you only had a few more months until you graduated and you could finally leave this small minded town where people still believed a rumour from when you were sixteen.
But then the earthquake happened and Hawkins was put under a strict quarantine. No one could leave. You graduated without knowing when you would be able to go to Smith College with Robin. And you were stuck with those same damn labels hanging over your head.
It had become very apparent to you that Robin was trying to set you up with her friend Steve. She had been dropping hint after not so subtle hint. It was amusing and even you could admit—Steve Harrington was incredibly attractive, funny and on the occasions that you had hung out with him (through Robin), you couldn’t deny that fluttering feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when he’d walk into the room.
And maybe—just maybe—you were beginning to come around to the idea.
”C’mon,” Robin practically pleads as she flops down onto your bed dramatically. “Steve’s great! Really. Not a creep. Not a murderer. He thinks you’re pretty, he—”
You blink several times, turning to look at Robin with raised brow and a face that was starting to feel a little hot.
”He said that?” You ask her, trying to appear casual but the hopeful tone of your voice sounded anything but.
“He did,” Robin confirms in a sing-song voice, a bright smile on her face. “His exact words were ‘she’s really, really pretty’. He also that you were smart and kind and—”
”Okay, okay,” you interject, your face now burning as you throw a sweatshirt at Robin to shut her up—which was something you hadn’t been able to master in over ten years of friendship. “I get it.”
Robin sits up, her blue eyes bright and hopeful. “So, will you do it? Please? Will you give him a chance? Just one? Please?”
You mull it over, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before you look back at Robin.
Having been your best friend for as long as she has, Robin already knew exactly why you were hesitating.
”You know he doesn’t care about what people say about you, right?” Robin asks you quietly, fixing you with a rarely seen serious expression. “He knows it isn’t true and even if it had been true—he still wouldn’t care.”
You knew—deep down—that she was right. You knew a guy like Steve—kind, caring, incredibly considerate—genuiely did not care what people said about you. You knew he wasn’t the kind of judge nor was he the type of guy who tied your worth to how many people you had or hadn’t slept with. But it didn’t stop you from caring. It didn’t stop your stomach from turning uncomfortably.
“He doesn’t care,” Robin repeats gently. “Trust me.”
And because she was your best friend, you did. And you went on a date with Steve Harrington the very next day.
And unfortunately for you—it had been the perfect first date.
You didn’t even wait for a second date to kiss him.
And Steve Harrington quietly eased his way into your life like he had always been there.
“You two are sickening,” Robin tells you both fondly as you sit beside Steve in the booth at Sally’s diner, his arm slung around your shoulders while you trace your fingertip over his hand gently. You had only been dating a few weeks and you were at the point in your relationship where you were almost constantly touching one another. Robin had thought it was sweet at first, seemingly pleased that her match making had been successful but now? Now she thought you were both incredibly annoying.
”Oh, you love it really Buckley,” Steve grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he leans over to grab his mug of coffee.
“I do not,” Robin counters with a roll of her eyes. “You two are disgusting. I practically have the word ‘third wheel’ tattooed on my forehead.”
Steve snorts into his coffee while you manage a faint smile.
You were half paying attention to the conversation because the table directly behind Robin had grabbed your attention.
It wasn’t very often you saw people who had been to high school with you, mostly because you tended to keep to yourself but you would recognise those faces anywhere. Because they had been some of the ones behind the whispers. Because they had been the reason why high school had been so fucking awful for you.
You try to act natural, try to keep up with the conversation that was flowing between Robin and Steve but your heart was beating fast—too fast. Your hands felt clammy and there was a faint ringing in your ears. You squeeze Steve’s hand once to help ground yourself before you get to your feet.
“M‘just—I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” you tell both Robin and Steve.
“Wait, are you ok—”
You don’t let Robin finish her sentence. Instead, you make a beeline to the diner’s bathroom, making sure not to pass by the table full of Hawkins High alumni.
The diner’s bathroom was empty and you breathed out a sigh of relief, resting your palms against the cool countertop and allowing yourself a few moments to calm down. You had to remind yourself that you were no longer in high school. That the rumours about you hadn’t even been true, that anyone who still cared about them now were childish and not worth your time. But what you had come to realise was that, though you had become numb to it, though you had rolled your eyes when people whispered about you—you still cared. You really fucking cared and you wished you didn’t.
You feel your traitorous eyes sting, just a little and you curse yourself for being so sensitive. You keep trying to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that it wasn’t true. That you were more than what people thought you were.
You take another deep breath, turning on the tap so you could splash some cold water on your face. But just as you cup your hands under the running water—the bathroom door opens. Your stomach drops and you feel a sense of panic that seems to seep into every nerve in your body and without even looking up, you know exactly who had just walked in.
Lucy—or maybe it was Lily, you weren’t too sure—says your name in a sweet greeting that felt laced with poison.
“Hey! I haven’t seen you in such a long time! How have you been?” she asks, smiling kindly at you and you weren’t entirely sure whether or not she was being genuinely kind or simply pretending. It was hard to be sure since Lucy had been the girlfriend of the guy whose dick you had apparently sucked behind the bike shed all those years ago. They had broken up shortly after and she had blamed you for it. And then, she had gleefully joined in with all the slut shaming you had experienced.
But now Lucy was smiling at you like it was all forgotten and it was—a little confusing.
You blink, unsure whether or not it was some sort of trap. You try to think of a response, of something—anything—to say but your mind has gone blank. Your fingers curl against the countertop. The tap continues to run.
Lucy’s smile falters, just a little, when you say nothing. She sighs and stands at the basin beside yours, looking at your reflection in the mirror and smiling once again.
“I know you, um, probably don’t want to talk to me after everything I said about you back in high school,” she begins, choosing her words carefully. “But I—I just wanted you to know that—that I think about it a lot and I’m—I’m really sorry.”
You hadn’t been expecting that. Your eyes widen and you look back at her, shock apparently evident on your face as she laughs nervously.
“I know, I know sorry isn’t enough and it won’t ever be enough for those things I said. But—I was a teenager, you know and I was stupid and angry and I projected all my anger onto you instead of Paul and I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh,” you say finally because you didn’t know what else to say. You certainly weren’t going to forgive her because quite frankly, you didn’t want to but you appreciated her apologising all the same. It was better than the ones who pretended like it had never happened. “Well um, thank you. I—”
“—I mean, I should not have taken it out on you. I should have taken it out on Paul instead because he was the one who cheated—”
“—he didn’t cheat though,” you interject before you could stop yourself. “We never did anything. Someone made it up. I didn’t—”
Lucy laughs and the sound makes your gut churn uncomfortably.
“—oh c’mon,” she says, smiling as though this was some kind of joke. “I know you slept around a little in high school, it’s cool! It’s water under the bridge now—”
“—but I didn’t,” you say, your hands beginning to shake as you turn to look at her properly. “I was a virgin until, like senior prom—”
The way she laughs even harder at that makes your face burn with shame.
“I find that very hard to believe,” Lucy simpers.
You open your mouth to respond—or snap at her, or burst into tears, you weren’t sure yet—when the bathroom door slams open.
And when you turn, you see Steve Harrington standing in the doorway.
“This is the ladies,” Lucy tells him. “You can’t be in here—”
“Don’t care,” Steve interjects, his eyes focused solely on you as he closes the door behind him.
You blink a few times to try and stop the tears that were threatening to fall before Steve notices. But it was too late—because of course Steve noticed.
He’s at your side in seconds, palms resting on your shoulders and squeezing gently.
“You okay?” He asks. “You were gone for a while and Robin said—”
He stops himself and glances over at Lucy before looking back at you and you understand immediately what Robin had told him. You understand why it had been Steve who had come to check on you and not Robin.
“We were just catching up!” Lucy explains brightly. “We um, we knew each other in high school, didn’t we?”
Your eyes flicker down to the bathroom floor and you simply hum in acknowledgement.
Both Steve’s hands squeeze your shoulder once, twice—and it’s enough to make you look at him. You find that he’s looking at you with those honeyed brown eyes that make your body feel warm. Make your shoulders relax and your breathing even.
“Oh,” Lucy says in sudden understanding, stepping away from you and Steve as she steps towards the door. “I didn’t realise you two were—um, but that makes sense, I guess.”
You watch her leave, wishing that you didn’t understand what she meant by that. But you did. You understood that she wasn’t surprised that former ‘King Steve’ had ended up with Hawkins High’s resident slut.
“You okay?” Steve asks the moment you two were alone, his hands moving down your arms—causing a trail of goosebumps along your skin in their way—before he takes your hands and squeezes them gently. “Robin told me she was the girl who—”
“—she didn’t believe me,” you tell him quietly. “I tried to tell her that nothing ever happened between me and her boyfriend and sh—she didn’t believe me.”
“Baby, I’m—”
“—but you believe me, right?” You ask before you could stop yourself. You couldn’t help it. You hate yourself a little for second guessing him but the doubt was creeping in. And that word that still lived beneath your skin was starting to itch.
But the way Steve looks at you—almost offended that you would even ask such a question—tells you everything before he even opens his mouth.
“Without a doubt,” Steve vehemently states, his jaw tense but his touch remaining soft. “Of course I believe you, baby. I’m sorry that you even had to ask that question.”
You nod, letting out a breath that you hadn’t realised that you had been holding before your hands tentatively reach towards the front of his shirt. Just to hold him.
Steve’s eyes soften as he looks at you. He lifts one of his hands to cup your face gently, his touch so gentle and so Steve that you couldn’t help but look at him.
“Hey,” he says in a voice so soft and gentle that it smoothes over you like a calming balm. “I’m sorry she didn’t believe you, baby. I really am. It’s fucking bullshit nobody believed you back then and it’s bullshit they don’t believe you know. But you know, what? You know the truth. Robin knows the truth. I know the truth. The people who love you, who care for you, know the truth. Everyone else? Fuck ‘em.”
You let out a small, watery laugh, looking at Steve as you try fighting back a smile.
“There she is,” Steve murmurs, both hands now cupping your face gently as he wipes away some of the tears that had escaped without your permission. “Keep smilin’ like that, baby. And don’t let anyone try and take that beautiful smile away from you again, you hear me?”
You sniffle before you nod, managing a weak smile. “I hear you,” you whisper back. “Thank you, Steve.”
“That’s Stevie to you,” Steve says, smiling back at you before he leans in to place a fierce kiss to your forehead. “Only you.”
You pull away enough to look at him with a skeptical look on your face. “But Robin calls you that too.”
“Yeah but—as a joke,” Steve explains, thumb still brushing over your cheek gently. “She doesn’t have my expressed permission to call me that, only you do.”
“That makes me feel special,” you say, unable to stop yourself from smiling now.
“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, his eyes dropping down to your lips. “You’re pretty fucking special.”
It was you who leaned in first, your fingers curling into his shirt as you pressed your lips against his. Steve almost instantly smiles against your lips before he melts into the kiss. His arms encircling your waist as your lips move against each other in a dance that was beginning to feel familiar. You barely even remember you were in a bathroom in a diner as Steve tugs you even closer by your belt loops.
You could have stayed there for much, much longer, if the bathroom door hadn't banged open again.
“Ugh! Seriously you two?”
You pull apart from Steve at the sound of Robin’s voice. Your face feels hot and Steve’s ears are red—though, his swollen lips twitch as if he’s trying not to smile.
“Can’t help it,” Steve grins, his arms still around you and a dopey sort of smile spreading across his face. “Your match making skills are just too good, Buckley.”
And as you lean your head against Steve’s shoulder—you couldn’t help but agree.
dividers by @cursed-carmine
line dividers by @omi-resources
support banner by @saradika-graphics
.✦ ݁˖ rec account: @moonstone-recommends .✦ ݁˖
mooney rambles: can’t believe the 2k special week is actually over! i was so worried i wasn’t going to stick to it but somehow i did! once again—thank you for 2k followers, i’m already on 2.8k (nearly 2.9k wtf) and i’m like 🥹🥹 thank you for the support, it means the world because i fucking love writing and i hope i never stop loving it
i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve harrington i love steve
warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with very very little plot, hairy steve, kinda rushed
pairing: steve harrington x reader
synopsis: you’re invited to steve’s pool party, and what better way is there to get his attention than wearing a slutty bathing suit?
wc: 2.6k
a/n: hi this is so rushed and NOT proofread!!! but finals are over and i wanted something out, so enjoy !!
The scent of sunscreen and tanning lotion filters through the air, the sun beating down on Steve Harrington’s pool party. The sun was more than welcome, but the UV had creeped so high that if sunscreen wasn’t applied meticulously every hour, everyone would be sure to turn an uncomfortable red.
The small deep blue bikini that clung to your body didn’t leave much to the imagination. Which normally you wouldn’t wear something so skimpy in front of kids, but being aware of who the host was made you step out of your normality.
You’d recently started babysitting Max Mayfield, which was a bit confusing since she was 14 years old. But after her mom had caught her sneaking out one too many times with the Sinclair boy, she called upon you.
Being neighbors with the Mayfield’s was what got you the job in the first place, and honestly getting paid to hangout with a 14 year old girl wasn’t too bad.
But you weren’t the only older individual in her life. Dustin, one of her close friends, had clung onto someone around your age too who happened to be around Max quite often went you weren’t around. Steve Harrington.
You’d only met him in passing a handful of times, but it was like the universe had begun to play some sick joke on you.
The fact that the other babysitter for the party was as gorgeous as him was truly cruel. And the fact that you’d barely been graced with his presence didn’t make you happy.
When Max told you that Steve was throwing a pool party and asked if you wanted to join, you couldn’t say no. You’re getting paid for babysitting her after all. Even though this definitely wouldn’t be included in the paycheck. And even though your main reason for going was to scope out the boy that had been on your sights since you first saw him.
Laying across on one of his pool chairs, your eyes are closed as you let your body soak up the sun. Pretty black sunglasses sit atop your nose, shielding your eyes just a tiny bit from the rays.
The kids are splashing in the pool and yelling way too loud, but you aren’t worried about that.
You’re more worried about the eyes you’ve felt attached to your body since you’d arrived.
A large shadow falls across you, a few droplets of cold water falling onto your oiled skin. Your eyes flicker open to see Steve standing right above you, temporarily blocking the sun.
“You’re being boring.” He says, his lips curving into a smirk.
You slide your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose and raise a brow. “I’m enjoying myself just fine.” You reply, acting indifferent. But inside, you were slightly giddy he noticed your absence in the water.
“C’mon, get in the water!” Steve shakes his head a bit, causing more droplets to fall onto your warm body.
“I’m perfectly content right here.”
Steve rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. “Just.. get in the water for a little bit.”
You stare up at him for several moments. What would a bit of teasing hurt? You slide your glasses back up the bridge of your nose, covering your eyes again. Sighing contentedly, you pretend not to hear him.
You can almost picture his jaw dropping, the irritation covering his face.
But before you can revel in that too much, you’re scooped up.
Eyes flying open, you begin to protest, telling him to put you down right now. Not a lot of words get out, though. You’re tossed into the chilly pool before you can even think.
The cold water engulfs you, sunglasses floating to the top before you do. You eventually get to the top of the water, a huge scowl on your face. “What the hell?!”
That supposed anger is quickly interrupted by Steve canon balling right next to you.
Over the sound of the splash, you can hear the kids laughing hysterically.
When you both come to the top of the water. Your glare is deadly. You immediately begin to splash Steve square in the face, which he happily reciprocates.
There’s suddenly a war, not just between you and Steve, but the rest of the kids too. Everyone is fighting for themselves and your irritation is gone, replaced with laughter.
Once the splashing subsides, you realize how truly close you and Steve are.
A curl of his dark hair falls in his eyes, shaking as he laughs hysterically. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, and his head is thrown back.
You can’t help but laugh too, his smile ever so contagious. “You’re an asshole.” You splash him again, this time softly.
He shakes his head. “No, i’m just being a good host. Had to make sure you felt included.”
“I was fine right where I was.” You push your wet hair back, letting yourself check him out while you spoke. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the large patch of hair that littered his chest.
The two of you swim around for a bit, chit chatting about anything and everything. It’s natural. More natural than you expected with him, if you were being honest. Turns out he wasn’t just a piece of ass, he was actually really sweet.
After a while, you climb out of the pool, water cascading down your tan body as you walk over to your towel. You wipe down, and then turn to where Steve is in the pool. “Where’s the bathroom?” You ask.
“Upstairs, second door on the left.” He calls out.
You can feel his eyes stay glued to you as you enter the house.
The Harrington household is huge. And for such a big house, it feels incredibly empty. No pictures, no semblance of family. It’s kind of sad.
You climb the stairs, and just as you’re walking down the hall to reach the bathroom, you come across Steve’s room.
His room is the opposite of the rest of his house.
Without thinking much about it, you enter. His room is cozy. The matching pattern on the walls and curtains are a bit much, but it’s homey. He has countless pictures of himself with the kids, a girl you recognize from high school, you’re pretty sure Robin is her name.
He has a few with Nancy Wheeler too, which surprises you since they had a messy breakup in senior year. But those pictures looked pretty platonic.
“This isn’t the bathroom.”
Steve’s voice interrupts your thoughts causing you to stumble over your words. “Sorry— I uh. Got lost.”
“Lost.” He confirms.
“Yes.”
Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “You are quite the bad liar.”
“I got distracted.” You glance over at the pictures on his desk.
His smile softens and he follows your gaze. “Ah.” He walks over to the pictures and picks one up. It’s a photo of him and Max. She’s laughing while he’s on the ground next to her skateboard, a frustrated frown on his face. “This one’s my favorite.”
“She try to teach you?” You ask, taking it from his hands to study closer.
“Yes. And she failed. Miserably.”
A small laugh escapes your lips and you shake your head. “You’re stronger than me. I’ve refused to even touch her board.”
Steve just smiles and takes the picture out of your hands, setting it back on the desk. He walks over to the window, glancing down at the kids. They were still in the pool, as energetic as ever. The window was slightly open, their high pitched yells and shouts echoing through the room.
“Max told me something interesting yesterday.” Steve tells you, still staring down at them.
You approach him, standing next to him so you can glance down at the pool too. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. She said that you think i’m hot.” Steve’s eyes leave the pool, turning to you.
You pause, almost letting your indifferent act slip. “Max says a lot of things.”
“True. But this one’s the most intriguing.”
Your eyes meet his. He’s leaning against the window sill, arms crossed as he stares at you. “And what would you say if it was true?” You challenge.
“I’d ask if that’s why you wore that bikini. To try and get my attention.”
Well, he called you out there.
“I knew you were staring at my boobs.” You mumble.
Steve can’t help but laugh. “That was your goal though, right?” He takes a hesitant step forward. “To put yourself on display so i’d cave.”
You don’t exactly know how to respond, especially since he was so right. You had worn this bikini to get his attention. You had told Max that he was attractive. “Isn’t that what this is? You caving?”
Steve’s eyes wander over your body for what you would assume was the 20th time today. “Do you want me to?”
You narrow your eyes. “Did I wear this bathing suit for nothing?”
Steve stops right in front of you. Your back is pressed against the window sill, head tilted up so your eyes meet his.
“You do this for every guy you find attractive?” He mumbles, his eyes locked onto your lips.
“No.” You admit honestly, your eyes falling to his lips too. “Just ones that can deal with the kids like I do.”
That makes him smile, but before you can admire him anymore, his lips find yours.
The kiss is sloppy, all tongue and teeth. Your hands rest on his chest, letting your fingertips run over the dark patch of hair.
His hands find purchase on your hips, squeezing tightly as he presses you more firmly into the window sill.
“They could see.” You mumble into his mouth, not daring to completely break the lip lock.
But Steve does. He leans over and fiddles with the string that’s attached to the blinds. This makes them shut.
His lips are right back onto yours, claiming you with his tongue.
Steve’s fingers find the ties on your hips, pulling hard. This makes your blue bottoms completely drop.
He doesn’t break the kiss, rather he cups your mound, letting the heel of his hand grind into your clit.
A small gasp leaves your throat, the kiss breaking momentarily.
“Shh.” He urges, kissing you yet again as he begins to let his fingers wander through your soaking folds. He couldn’t tell if the wetness was from being in the pool or just plain arousal.
His free hand grips your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist so he can access you better.
His kisses trail down your jaw, to your neck, and then your collarbone.
He sucks against your skin, humming as a small hickey blooms. His lips find your breasts, peppering sloppy kisses and bites over the valley.
Your breathing is quick, head thrown back against the blinds as he begins to finger you quickly.
His long digits plunge in and out of your cunt, squelching sounds echoing through the room.
Quiet whimpers begin to leave your lips, causing Steve to smile against your skin.
You can feel yourself clench around his fingers as he finds your sweet spot with ease.
It’s like he was an expert, knowing what your body begged for almost immediately.
Your hands wander over his chest and shoulders, needing to touch any and every part of him.
“So pretty.” He murmurs against your neck, continuing to attack your skin with kisses and bites as his fingers continue to graze your g-spot.
It’s not long before your legs begin to shake, causing you to subconsciously grind against his hand.
His lips find yours again, tongues baffling messily as he feels your impending orgasm approach. “C’mon, there we go.” He mumbles into your mouth.
The shock of pleasure that hits you is nothing you’ve felt before. Not from sex, and surely not from your own fingers.
Your cunt pulses continuously, causing a strangled moan to erupt in your mouth. Steve quickly slaps his palm across your mouth, shushing you. “Shhhh. C’mon now. You know better.”
Your orgasm continues, legs shaking and eyes squeezed shut.
When he’s sure you’d rode out every last wave of pleasure, he pulls his hand away and quickly turns you around so your front pushes into the window.
Quietly whining, you arch your back and wiggle your ass towards him, desperate for more. For him.
Steve sucks in a breath, and you can hear his swim trunks rustling. He pushes them down, and almost immediately you feel his tip nudge your cunt.
Before you have time to adjust to look back, he shoves himself deep inside you.
A high pitched whine gurgles in your throat, which causes him to cover your mouth again. “I know. It’s big.” He groans into your ear. “You got it. You got it, yeah?”
You hadn’t seen how big he was, but you could feel it. The stretch was so delicious, nearly painful, but not quite.
He begins to roll his hips, cock plunging in and out of your dripping pussy. The hand that wasn’t covering your lips grips your left hip tightly, giving him better leverage as he lets himself fuck you into the blinds.
The front of your hips rut against the window sill repeatedly, and if you weren’t so distracted by being stretched out you’d process that it was slightly uncomfortable.
But no, the pleasure that over took you was too much to ignore.
Steve’s cock repeatedly hit your sweet spot, thrusts relentless. His hand that was covering your mouth pushes your head back, causing your neck to crane back far. “Open up. Open those pretty eyes, mhm. Let me see them. Open em.”
And you do. You open up your eyes to see such a sinful sight. His face hovers over you, wet hair falling in his eyes. His bottom lip is between his teeth, and you can see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. “Ohhh, there she is.”
Your back is arched into his touch, basically inviting him to pound into you from behind as he pleased. The craning of your neck was uncomfortable, but you welcomed it if it meant seeing Steve like this.
You know you’re drooling against his hand, but you could care less. All you could care about was the sight of his face as he fucked you and the feeling of his cock stretching out your walls.
You moan against his hand and he smirks. “Gonna cum? You got it.”
The hand that was on your hip sneaks down and begins to rub circles against your clit, egging on your orgasm.
After several seconds of his torture on your bundle of nerves, you let yourself cum around his thick cock.
Steve groans as he feels the repeated pulsing of your pussy, letting himself succumb to the pleasure. He quickly pulls out just as he finishes, pumping his length quickly as spurts upon spurts of thick seed paint your lower back. “Fuuuck.” He groans quietly, the sight of your back painted in cum almost too much to bear.
Your legs are trembling and he steadies you with his arm, pulling you up so your back is against his chest.
“You get what you wanted?” He murmurs into your ear, voice raspy.
“Mostly.” You reply with a hoarse tone.
“Mostly?” Steve’s hand wanders your ribcage and then cups your breast.
You turn your head slightly, cheek brushing against his lips. “Usually sex comes after a date but.. I think I deserve a proper date.”
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
2087
jbbartram-illu
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
