summary: you've known steve harrington all your life — he was your first friend in hawkins, your first kiss, and your first heartbreak. it just takes some time for you two to figure out how to be together.
word count: 2.6k
content/warnings: a bit of angst (happy ending ofc), neglectful parents (for steve and reader), drinking, mentions of parental death (for reader), dad!steve at the end (not with reader)
a/n: this was heavily inspired by the song going, going, gone by lucy dacus, which is on one of my fave albums ever, home video <3 i definitely took some creative liberties towards the end because i can't write angst without there being some hope!
The earliest memory you have of Steve Harrington is his smile.
You don’t remember how old you were — you were both young, that much you do know. No more than 6 or 7, at some smarmy party at a country club on the outskirts of Hawkins, where both of your parents cared far more about appearances than the happiness of their children.
Your family had just moved to Hawkins after your dad’s company expanded, building a new factory plant in the small town, choosing him to oversee it. You didn’t understand much about the move, just that all your favorite toys and stuffed animals were getting stored away in boxes and your mom got frustrated with you when you fisted at your eyes and cried about not having your teddy to sleep with at night.
Since moving to Hawkins that July, most of your summer went this way. Your mom already made friends with the other housewives in the neighborhood and dad worked all day at the plant. They left you with a nanny, a nice lady named Marie, but she didn’t care to play with you very much, just make you food and get you ready when your mom alerted her of places you needed to be at — like this one.
You hadn’t gotten to know any of the kids you’d be going to school with, let alone any other children in the neighborhood. In fact, Steve Harrington may have been the first person your age you’d seen in a month.
Steve’s parents acted like yours did. They puffed out their chests and laughed too nasally and drank too much wine. You watched Steve from across the dinner table, eyes slightly squinted, as if you were trying to tell if he was some sort of robot made by adults to make you feel less lonely. Steve was too busy kicking his feet out from under him and stuffing bread in his mouth to notice. Your mom wasn’t.
“Teresa, did you introduce these two?” your mom asked, taking a long sip from her wine glass. Teresa, you assume, was Steve’s mom, who somehow had bigger hair than your mom and a lot of perfume on. She blinked, then plastered a wide grin on.
“How silly of me!” she exclaimed, and you suddenly felt uncomfortably small beneath her gaze. “Sweetheart, this is my son, Steven Harrington. You two will be at Hawkins Elementary together in the fall. You should get to know each other!”
That’s the only introduction you got before Teresa turned her back to you and Steve, immersing herself back into whatever discussion she’d been having prior.
You sighed heavily and reached forward to pluck a roll out of the bread basket.
“You get used to it eventually,” The boy in front of you said, making you look up. Your eyes rounded, and he made a vague gesture at the room. “This whole thing. It’s not as bad when you get used to it.”
When he smiled at you, you can’t tell if it’s a genuine one, and you don’t know if you’ve ever seen a little boy look so sad before.
October 1981
The first time you hang out with Steve one-on-one is when you’re 14 years old.
At first, you think it’s a prank. Over the summer, Steve must have gone through puberty, because he came back to school much taller, with better styled hair, and a deeper voice. You didn’t see him because your parents sent you to an all-girls sleepaway camp, which was a sort-of improvement from accompanying them to country club soirees.
He also started hanging out with Tommy Hagan, who’s kind of a dick, and you don’t quite understand how they’re friends because Steve’s a nice guy. He’s always been really kind to you, even if you’re not the closest of friends. But that’s why you think the note slipped into your locker is some kind of cruel joke, because there’s no way Steve wants to hang out with you outside of school, tonight.
You quickly crumple up the looseleaf and stuff it in your jeans pocket, grab your textbooks for your next class, and slam your locker shut, deciding to forget about it for now. You’ll have time to ruminate over it after school.
That’s your plan, anyway, until after eighth period, when Steve’s standing by your locker, hands shoved in his pockets. You want to turn around and run away, but you can’t bring yourself to do it — not when he looks like that.
“Hey,” Steve greets as you approach your locker, “Did you, um, get my thing?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Your note?”
He nods. “Yeah. Did you get it?”
“That was real?”
The tips of Steve’s ears flush.
“Of course it was real. Why wouldn’t it be?”
You shrug.
“Well, are you gonna be there?”
You think for a moment. You have a strict curfew of 8 p.m., otherwise your dad will seriously kill you.
“Yeah, but I can’t be out any later than 8. My dad is really serious about that kind of thing.”
“You’ve never snuck out before?”
“No, Steve.”
He backs off. “Alright, meet me at the park on Grove at 6, then? After dinner?”
“Sure,” you nod, “I’ll see you then.”
“Cool.” he says it with a smile, and this time, you know it’s real.
In 1980, secret meet-ups at the park become yours and Steve’s thing.
It’s not so much that you’re hiding from anyone (well, you aren’t, anyway), but it’s nice to have privacy, away from nosy onlookers at school or overbearing opinions from your parents. It’s always at the same time, on the same bench, in the same park.
At first, they were innocent, if not a little awkward.
You’d avoid Steve’s eyes, even if conversation flowed freely. You’d gaze at the asphalt or the playground set as you talked about Tommy Hagan’s new girlfriend, Carol, or Steve wanting to try out for the basketball team.
Within weeks, you felt a bit more comfortable.
“Tommy said he got to second base with Carol,” Steve revealed, and you rolled your eyes.
“As if. I heard her talking about it in the locker room today at gym and she said he went for it and she knocked him off her couch.”
Steve ended up making it on the basketball team after you encouraged him to try out, and your conversations got deeper. He started telling you about how his parents were leaving him alone more often and that he didn’t feel like they were very proud of him. You voiced your fears about making your parents proud. A few weeks later, when you watched the sun set together, he asked to kiss you.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” you said, gaze still set on the horizon. You weren’t sure why you admitted that. You were scared he wouldn’t want to kiss you anymore.
“That’s okay,” Steve replied softly, making your stomach do backflips, “I want to be your first.”
So you turned to look at him, and he was much closer than you anticipated, and you nodded. His eyebrows raised slightly, as if he was somewhat surprised that you wanted this too, and he waited a beat, like you were going to change your mind.
But you didn’t, and then he slowly leaned forward to gently seal his lips to yours, and it felt so perfect, so sweet, so Steve, that you can’t believe you hadn’t been spending all your time kissing him before.
April 1987
You’re home from college for the week when your friend, Brandy, convinces you to go with her to some house party.
Admittedly, you were looking forward to spending your time in Hawkins decompressing from midterms and academics, but you know one night out isn’t going to kill you — especially in your tiny hometown.
And at first, you’re having a blast. You’re not sure who’s house you’re in, but the vibes are great. The music is fun, the alcohol is flowing, and you’re dancing together without any creeps hitting on either one of you. You haven’t even run into anyone you know yet, which is a serious win considering how small Hawkins, Indiana is.
“I have to go to the bathroom!” Brandy shouts in your ear, trying to overpower a Michael Jackson song blasting through the living room. “Do you wanna find it with me?”
You shake your head and give her hand a squeeze. “No, I’m okay! I’m gonna grab another drink, though! Meet me in the kitchen!”
Brandy nods and flashes you a smile, and you head to the kitchen while your friend goes in the direction of the stairs. With your red solo cup in hand, you push past some bodies, tugging your skirt down when you finally get to your destination.
And truthfully, you probably would’ve missed him if you opened the tequila bottle a second or two earlier.
But instead, you looked around the kitchen, maybe subconsciously so, just in case you did know anyone at this party, and lo and behold, you did: Steve Harrington.
He’s currently got his front pushed up against a pretty brunette, his hand pressed against the wall above her with a smirk on his lips as his other palm finds her ass. You grow nauseous just at the sight of it.
He doesn’t notice you. He’s too involved with whoever he has in his grasp, and you try to tell yourself that that’s okay, because you, too, have hooked up and dated people since you last saw Steve Harrington. Of course you have.
But for some reason — and maybe it’s the nostalgia of it all, being home, or seeing him in person — all you can think about are those stupid park dates you used to have your freshman year of high school, when Steve became your entire world. Nothing ever came of them, much to your chagrin — you dreamt of the day he would ask you to be his girlfriend, especially once those evenings involved nightly makeout sessions — but then one day he started dating Nancy Wheeler, and your days no longer ended hand in hand.
It killed you.
Piece by piece, and then all at once. You felt like a shell of a human, all because you let Steve Harrington be your first heartbreak.
Your hand is still wrapped around the handle of vodka when Brandy barrels in the kitchen, talking about how long the bathroom line was. You swallow harshly and reach out to grab her elbow, and she immediately stops when she sees your watery eyes.
“Can we go?” you ask softly.
She nods and loops her arm around your shoulders.
November 1993
You’re staring at a package of chicken in the poultry aisle, trying to decide if you even want to eat chicken for dinner this week, when you hear your name being called.
You drop the chicken and turn around, eyebrows furrowed. You want to duck and hide when you see its source.
“Holy crap! When’d you get back to town?” Steve asks with a grin, pushing his shopping cart and stopping it next to yours.
“Um…” you shift your weight from foot to foot, wondering if it’s too late to bolt. “Uh, a few weeks ago. My… my dad passed away, so I’m kind of here, settling and taking care of stuff for the time being.”
“Shit,” Steve says, and he genuinely looks like he feels bad, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. How’s your mom doing? Do you guys need anything?”
“She died in that big earthquake that hit a few years ago,” you reply dismissively, shaking your head. “It’s fine. You know I wasn’t very close with them. I kind of cut things off with them once I graduated college, but they don’t have anyone else to do this type of stuff, and they left everything to me.”
“Wow. That’s… a lot.”
You nod. “Yeah, it is.”
“I mean… if you need anything, I’m still more than happy to help,” Steve says, and you don’t know why but even with years and miles of distance between you two, the mere offer is enough to make you smile.
“Why am I not surprised that you’re still in this shitty town?” you ask playfully, picking the package of chicken back up and placing it in your cart. He laughs.
“Well, I’ll have you know, I’m the Hawkins Middle baseball coach and sex ed teacher,” he replies, and you let out a loud cackle that makes you smack your hand over your mouth. “I also… I have a daughter. Her mom and I aren’t together, but we co-parent. She lives here, too.”
You raise your eyebrows. “No shit, huh? King Steve’s a dad now.”
“King Steve died a long time ago, sweetheart.”
The pet name makes your face warm and you shake your head, pushing your cart forward. Steve follows your lead.
“What’s your daughter like?” you ask.
“Amazing,” he immediately says. You smile. “Her name’s Ella. She’s four now, so she just started kindergarten. She’s so smart and funny and she’s taught me so much. Being a dad is my favorite thing in the world. I don’t think I knew who I was before this.”
You look over at him, and you swear he’s glowing. In all the years you’ve known Steve, you’ve never seen him look so naturally happy, and it makes your stomach flip, just like it did when you were a teenager kissing him on a bench just before your curfew.
“I’m really happy to hear that, Steve.” you say, reaching out to touch his hand on the handle of his cart. He stalls for a moment, almost as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself, before allowing himself to relax into your touch, just as you issue a gentle squeeze.
“She would love you,” Steve continues before grabbing a box of Cheerios off the shelf. “She’d probably think you’re the coolest person ever.”
You snort. “Why?”
“‘Cos you are,” he says with a shrug. “You always have been. The coolest, smartest, prettiest… I was too stupid to see it for a long time, but I figured it out.”
You blink, wondering if you’re stuck in some kind of alternate timeline. Steve clears his throat. You look down at the speckled tiled floors, then back up at the brunette man before you, who somehow isn’t a little boy or a lost teenager with sad eyes anymore.
“Um, I’m staying in my parents’ house and it’s weird,” you admit, laughing breathily, “But I feel like… I don’t know, maybe it would be a little less weird with you in it? So if that offer to… if I need anything, if that still stands, you can come over. I would like you to come over, is what I’m saying.”
A grin paints itself on Steve’s face. Small wrinkles edge themselves at the edges of his eyes, and he’s never looked so beautiful.
“I would love to,” he says. “Ella’s at her mom’s tonight. Does— is that okay?”
“That’s perfect.”
In 10 years or so, you’ll tell a lie to yourself and say that your love story with Steve Harrington began in the poultry aisle at the grocery store, which is one of the more unremarkably romantic spots in the world.
Really, though, you both know it began in August 1973, when you sat across from him in a stuffy country club. You didn’t know it then, but any day that ends with his hand in yours means it's a good one.
My physical location changes my fundamental perception of who I am. Like is that normal
Places in which I feel like myself: Boston, ny, the undisclosed coastal Massachusetts village in which I live sometimes, Nola, Newport, my old boarding school, London, the Middle Eastern country in which I was born and raised (not the UAE, don’t worry). Omaha, Nebraska on the low.
Places in which I do not feel like myself: Texas (with love), California (with disdain), Tulum
۶ৎ after steve supported you through a hard time in your life, he watched you shine right back into yourself again. he just didn’t know how hard he’d fall in love when you did.
bestfriend!steveharrington x reader
wc: 7.8k+
warnings: mention of alcohol, skinny dipping (sorta they have underwear on) , talk of depression, first kiss
Today was something different. Something he took out of his life, tried to downplay it. His birthday.
He never thought much of it, no matter how hard he tried, because it sometimes felt too much. But a part of him, maybe his vulnerable self, managed it.
And it wasn’t because the day revolved around him, that he got all the attention that he was used too. It was about the people, mostly you, and being around love he normally didn’t see at home.
Reassuring and proud.
He was never very fond of the birthday culture, with the presents and all eyes on him. It was never involved in his life, so he learned to not give it importance- and believing his life was still the same without it.
Eventually as he got older, graduated, made a life for himself, it changed.
You somehow got closer to Steve, closer than Robin was, than everyone. You two didn’t know how it happened, it just did so naturally. His eyes were always drawn to you, noticing how his heart fluttered differently than when it did it others. You showed him what being cared for looked like, how it felt- and he gradually accepted it.
Every year, the celebration was the same, one that he loved and felt most comforted with. A bonfire nestled somewhere in the forest of Hawkins, with drinks and music, with the breeze flying through and songs blasting high.
He woke up that morning with a sense of dread and regret, even if he already agreed.
What pushed him through the day and before the party was someone who made him feel embarrassingly soft. Like what he did everyday was special.
You.
“I don’t know about this one.” You say quietly with a tilt to your head, looking in your mirror.
You watched Robin spring up from your bed.
You wore a short, almost babydoll dress, that was silver with little sparkles- the spaghetti straps gliding smooth over your skin. It was a pretty dress, you had to admit, and it made your features glow.
After these past few months, you’d never imagine you would see yourself like this. In a gorgeous dress, out of your bed, getting ready for a party.
Ready to see him.
“Honest to everything, Steve is going to flip.” She exclaims, “you’re seriously gonna make him lose his shit.”
“Robin!”
“What?” You give her a dead stare, “Oh cmon, you gotta admit a little bit of it is for him.”
You shake your head with a pink face.
“…It’s his birthday.”
“Yyyeah but you’ve been like best friends for years who totally dance around each other, and he’s a total moron for not-”
“Okay, okay!” You giggle, biting the inside of your cheek to try and not smile. The concept felt so off, but when Robin said it, it sounded right.
“But it’s not anything bad! I just think.. he’s scared.” She says lightly, “it’s nice you’re doing this, going tonight, I mean.”
That was the thing. You were doing it for Steve. Your makeup, your hair, everything. Yourself. And you knew he appreciated you just for you, he’s said it countless of times, but you wanted to thank him after everything he’s done.
After making you feel stable again.
You swirl the dress a little to try and convince yourself that this was perfect. That it was just right for him.
“He’s really going to love it, you look.. so pretty. Trust me.” She says softer.
You turn and your eyes meet hers, and you could see she really means what she says. You take a deep breath and look back in the mirror.
“I don’t wanna mess things up.” You admit. “It’s his day and I just- I know he’s still going to be worried. He doesn’t need that right now.”
There was a beat of silence, blankets rustling.
“You wanna know something?”
“..What?”
“Yesterday at work, I swear. Couldn’t stop talking about you and how excited he was for tonight.”
You turn your head but you couldn’t catch yourself smiling. Your face was etched with something more emotional, more aware of what you truly deserved. The bond between you and Steve was too real for something to blush about.
Normally you would tease her back, try to deny it, but something in your heart told you not too.
“Really?” You ask.
“Really.”
“Oh.”
She nods and finishes putting on her shoes, fixing anything that was off. She gets up and stands next to you, looking at yourself and then you through the reflection.
“I wish you saw him.” She smiles, sweet and encouraging, “he was a complete madman. I even had to shut up, and you know it’s the opposite!”
You giggle at that and feel your body turn lighter, especially in moments where you can really think about how grateful you were. Suddenly, you felt Robin grab your shoulders and steer you away from the mirror.
“Now!” She raves, “we both look hot as hell, especially you, and it’s finally time for a good party.”
You fake groan and let her drag you downstairs and out the front door, your head feeling loud. The chill immediately hit you, goosebumps appearing, but you were already to close to the car for a return back.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry- I just can’t stop imagining what Steve’s face is gonna be.” She squeals, fumbling with the keys.
“Stooop!”
“What?”
“If you say anything to him, you’re dead Rob.”
The car starts and she starts to drive to the road that leads to the forest. You couldn’t ignore the sound of your heart racing, and you truly didn’t know why.
You’ve seen Steve almost every day, the reasons for that, you tried to not think of. But it was putting yourself out there, smiling again, allowing your heart to settle. You just wished it was you and him, not in front of a crowd.
It’s always been you two. Like how it was every night. The nights where you didn’t even have to call, and he was there. With his fingers unknotting the tension in your head, soaking up your tears and steadying your shakes. There were some nights where he’d stay on the phone with you, laying on his side with his eyes fluttering shut and listening to your breathing.
Some nights, he cried about you. With you or without you. Because when he saw your eyes, your state, he couldn’t help but feel his heart break at how much you lost yourself.
He would notice when something was wrong, by the crease in your eyebrows and how your cuticles were freshly sore. Sometimes when it was morning, his face smushed to your pillow with his eyes closed, you’d blink and replay the past hours. At how close he would get. Kissing your face so tenderly that it didn’t seem like a question.
In that moment, he knew it then. He’d do anything for you. His string was devoted to yours, almost like he’d go back in time and align the stars again just so he could reconnect with you.
Steve tried to push his feelings away. No, he was your best friend, he was supposed to be there for you. You didn’t need that during this time in your life, which was overthinking the feelings of a boy instead of focusing on your mental health.
You blinked and you could see it. The orange glow behind the many rustled trees of the forest, growing stronger and higher.
“Hey.” Robins voice snaps you back and you turn your head.
Her hand reaches to yours.
“Breathe, okay?” She says, taking a deep breath and watching you follow her, yours coming out uneven.
“It’s gonna be super fun. You’re gonna see Steve.. everyone, have s’mores.”
Her words made you smile.
“And if you wanna leave, tell me. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of some horrible dancing. Tell me.”
You tried to laugh at that, you really did. But the sound caught in your throat and you felt your hands start to shake. You slowly pull your hand away, hugging her over the console.
“Thanks Robin.” You say so quietly. She smiles anyway.
You and Robin walked through the man made trail further into the glow, holding onto her arm as your heart continued to race, your dress feeling tight on you.
It was okay. You were okay, everything was safe and you would see Steve.
Music seeped into your ears and you could see the water of the lake glistening under the moonlight. You saw people, close friends who were smiling and laughing by the fire. Everyone seemed so happy.
Your heart slowed.
When you got closer, every other girl was wearing a dress- but somehow yours stood out just a bit more.
Your name and Robins were immediately squealed throughout other girls, and they rushed to hug you, their perfume filling your nose. And you melted right away, because you haven’t seen them in so long and it was like your heart knew that it was at home.
And you were smiling.
Real, bright, and so natural that it made your stomach twist.
You and Robin made your rounds to say hi to everyone, your gift for Steve clutching tight in your grasp. Because then you saw him in the middle of your hug with Nancy, his eyes trained on you. He was waiting.
Waiting for a moment between you and him. Just two.
Robin nudged you and gave you an encouraging smile, and you returned it back.
Before you got even make your way to Steve, he was already five steps ahead, jumping over to you. You couldn’t tell from the fire, but his face seemed brighter and pinker than it was from afar. He immediately hugged you, your feet gently lifting off the ground.
You let out a breath that was deep in you and you felt like laying down right there, straight into his arms and away from everyone else.
“Hey!” You could hear his smile. “You came.”
So you pulled away, proving your point. It reached his eyes and his pupils were wide.
“Happy birthday.” You manage to hand him the bag without shaky hands.
“Thank you.” He says with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. That was Steve, after all.
He took it and put it down, his hands seemed to be occupied somewhere else. His fingers slithered around your waist and he tugged you closer, causing you to raise your eyebrows.
“Usually, you open it.” You tilt your head, lips curling upwards.
“You look so pretty.” He breathes out. “Like…wow.”
You stutter. “You.. you look good too.”
His eyes trailed up and down, before going back to your face. Normally it would made you feel small, gross under that gaze. His was gentle and unwavering, not like he was imagining you without it. But you knew it was never like that with him- he truly did see you as some sort angel.
Your heart flipped right away. At his words, his face, at everything.
“Is this new?” He gently slides his finger underneath the strap of your dress, and your face felt hot.
“Keeping track on my closet?”
“Maybe.. I mean no!” His eyes widen in an attempt to joke. “Is it though?”
“Mm.” You hum shyly, your eyes never looking away from his eyes, like you were hypnotized. “Robin helped me pick it out.”
“For once, Robin was right.” He chuckles, “let me um, you want a drink?”
You could tell he was quickly trying to hide his red face, and you tried your hardest not to smile at his attempt, the way he swallowed nervously. You could never ignore the way he looked at you, regardless of your relationship. Friends.
“Yeah, sure.” You smile.
He nods and strains his eyes away from you, holding onto your hand and taking you to the cooler that was next to the wood benches.
He reached for the soda without hesitation, one of your favorites, but you shook your head.
“Actually um.. is the beer good?” You ask.
He looks up at you and blinks. He looked so different in that moment. Handsome. He stuttered a sound and nodded- a little taken aback back because you rarely drinked.
“Yeah it’s good, you want one?”
“…Sure.”
“You don’t have too if you don’t wanna.”
His voice was so soft that you almost gave in. But you wanted too. You wanted to feel layed back and take your mind off the things that haunted you at night. You felt safe doing that around him.
You took the can from his hands and opened it- drinking it at the same time he was with his.
You could see him smiling against the metal and he watched your eyes widen at the taste, since it was different from the ones you’ve tried before.
“Holy shit.” You laugh.
“Good?”
“You’ve got good beer taste.”
“That’s so not a thing.”
“So is.”
He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since he hugged you. And you noticed. You didn’t want to change a thing.
He shakes his head and smiles at you like he’s forgotten all those horrible nights where you looked down on yourself. He looked at you like you were the greatest, a girl who glowed into a room, not someone who cried herself to sleep every night.
“You’re something else.” He playfully says back.
“You tolerate it well.”
He bit the inside of his cheek with a lingering smile and looked away.
Later that night, you and Steve stuck around with each other. He managed to make countless excuses to continue walking around with you. You noticed it. When you stood across from him in a circle of friends, he just could not stop looking at you. You went to different groups of people, catching up and finding your place again. You felt like you belonged again, and it was so so refreshing.
You fell back into such an easy rhythm, and with the way Steve talked to you, he seemed proud. With his hand gently resting on your lower back, looking down at you with the most gentle expression ever. And you returned it back.
Sometimes it got too quiet, and he’d take you to some trees farther away from everyone. You would lean against the tree and he’d be right in front of you, eyes darting across your entire face.
His smell was so strong, with his hands fiddling with yours. And it felt so familiar again. So right, even if it was so wrong at the same time.
“I was gonna show up to yours this morning.” He admits.
You tilt your head.
“Why didn’t you? I was home.”
He shrugs and turns his head, the moonlight shining onto his face as he looks at the lake. He was so pretty and that thought lingered in your head for a long time. You couldn’t think like that.
He was your friend, the one who’s always been there for you, who had your back in any given time. He didn’t need all that came with you. He deserved better than that. Stable.
“I didn’t know if you were gonna come tonight.”
You frown and say quietly, “‘Course I’d come, Steve. I know I haven’t been out much but it’s.. it’s you. It’s us.”
He looked back and he already looked relieved.
“M’ really proud of you.” He starts, “and I don’t wanna sound cheesy or something. But I am, and.. I’m glad you here.”
Your eyes dart back and forth to his and that’s when you realize how intimate this was. You were so close to him, and the way you two quietly talked to each other felt like a secret. With his hands intertwined with yours and his breath fanning over your lips.
Being this close to him reminded you of those nights. The nights where he practically had to shake you to stop the crying, his lips pressed to the side of your face as he whispered. Maybe because he saw you at your lowest, the worst you’ve ever been, means that he saw you as his first. That you were Steve’s first thought in the morning, wether if it was out of concern or not.
“All cus of you.” You whisper. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yeah?” He asks, unsure but willing to believe.
“…Yeah.”
He stayed quiet, his baby pink lips parted, and god, you wanted to kiss him so bad. You didn’t have a clue that he was thinking, what’s been going on in his head all night.
“On top of that, you look so fucking beautiful.” He chuckles, “your dress, everything else. Beautiful.”
You roll your eyes and nudge him, feeling yourself instantly smile. After all these months of forcing it to appear, something simple like seeing Steve and listening to him instantly brought it back. Your stomach felt fuzzy.
“I look like a disco ball.”
“A beautiful disco ball.”
“Who definitely smells like beer.” You giggle and he shakes his head with the most genuine expression.
“You smell perfect. Everything’s perfect.” He hums.
He leans foward, hand sliding behind your neck and kissing your forehead like he always did, your shoulders dropping. He peppered it once more and it felt like how it did back in your bedroom, when you broke down and he kissed it all away.
He pulls back with his hair in front of his face, and you pushed your hand foward to push it away.
Before you could do that, someones voice rang through the trees, calling Steve’s name. He sighed and flickered his eyes back to you, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.
All this mess, the hair in front of each others faces, was evidence of how flushed you two were. But the words, the feelings, lingered in the air and it didn’t feel like they would be acknowledged anytime soon. You were scared.
It took a moment before he talked again.
“I swear I’m gonna kick everyone out.”
“You own the forest now?”
“Oh, obviously. It can be yours too, but you gotta earn it.”
You laugh and tilt your head back, leaning it against the bark like his name wasn’t being yelled. He leaned closer anyway like it was just another excuse to stay longer.
“And what do I have to do to earn a title of the forest?”
He squints his eyes and pretends he’s thinking, which only reminded you of how happy he made you, with your cheeks aching from smiling. You were so glad you came after almost not going.
“…Maybe if you promise to stay later? After everyone’s gone?” He whispered.
You’d do anything to hear that gentle voice for the rest of your life.
His name was yelled again and you frowned. He opened his mouth and his eyes looked like he would stay.
“Cmon.” You say softly before he could, lacing his hand with yours and going back to the fire- his eyes trained to the back of your head, his heart gravitated towards you.
It was getting late, the sun already slipped away.
But the party was still buzzing, the people were still drinking and celebrating Steve with multiple woo’s and pats on his back. The music was louder and it seemed like everyone was at the drunken stage at the party, escaping in couples into the woods with grins.
You and Steve got detached from each other, your arms dragged into the side of the fireplace where people danced. You quickly got caught up in it, a drink in your hand and shouting the lyrics to a song with Nancy.
“Hey!” You felt a soft tug on your shoulder.
“Have you seen Steve?” You heard Robins voice.
Your heart jumped just at the name and you shake your head. It’s always been like this.
The assumption that you and Steve knew where each other were, like a pair that never got strung away. In all the facade that you two were just close friends, you liked it. You liked how it was always you and Steve, together, like you two couldn’t navigate without each other.
You preferred it that way.
“No.” You say loudly over the music. “Is he okay?”
She nods, “Probably! I just forgot to give him his present.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No, no it’s okay! I’ll be back!”
And with that she quickly left, her eyes buzzing behind the drinks as well.
You went back to singing and dancing with Nancy, the two of you twirling each other around and jumping across the dirt of the forest.
Your mind flashed to Steve. His eyes. His stupid floppy hair that you craved to run your fingers through. His touch. Warm and grounding. You continued dancing, losing yourself in the music and your eyes blurring those around you.
For a moment, you felt like air. All those dark thoughts at night seemed to escape you as you jumped around, screaming your lungs out.
You felt like how it did when you were happy last year. Maybe this was all you needed, being with people around you who loved you and guided you with a hand on your back. Like how he did.
Despite the dancing, the drinks running through your system, you always thought about him.
Unbeknownst to you, Steve almost physically felt his breath leave him.
He was talking to a friend he hadn’t seen in a while, when he looked towards the fire, just to see its bright orange color. And through it, it glowed and shimmered silver.
He knew it was you.
Your crazy and free dancing, with that pretty dress he couldn’t take his eyes off, with the warmest smile he’s never seen.
You were glowing.
Your hair was sticking and falling perfectly in front of your face, your feet hopping around like life was infinite. Despite all the chatter and music, he heard your laugh echo. Saw your smile finally reach your eyes.
It happened so fast that he felt his heart drop.
You were there. All this time, in front of him, all his life. A mirror into his future, into what he could’ve had if he just tried. He felt his heart break at the potential of the two of you, kissing endlessly and cuddling deep into the night.
And yet you seemed so distant at the same time, like he had your grasp for a second before you moved on. You didn’t need him anymore. You appeared happy, you were radiating, and you didn’t need his whispers of comfort.
I love her so much, he thought. But this time, he didn’t call himself stupid for feeling that way. He believed it.
His face felt hot from the gravitation of just seeing you. Beautiful, there, and he couldn’t believe he’s spent those quiet nights with you.
Steve wanted the loud ones too, like right now, with your figure shimmering under the fire- all his.
He excused himself for a moment, hands shaking when he placed his beer on the ground. He felt electric but wanted to pass out at the same time, his feet already moving with no hesitation.
Would he dance? Take your hand and spin you around, show everyone that this was real?
He got closer and closer, and the moment he grazed your shoulder, a romantic slow song came on. Great.
“Steve.” Your hushed voice made him blink, his heart stuttering when he looked down at you.
Your face was flushed and your chest rised up and down, like this was the most relief you’ve gotten in a while. He smiled at that.
“Robin’s been looking for you.” You say breathlessly. But your hands slithered around the back of his biceps and he didn’t care to move. It was so… touchy.
“S’ okay.” He says. “She’ll find me later.”
You titled your head and let out a breathy laugh- your mind already forgetting her. He was finally close to you again, your touch on his skin feeling electric.
“Dance with me.” You say.
“Are you drunk?”
“…No.”
He shakes his head with a grin, your eyes glowing like he’s never seen before. He hoped it was because of him and not the alcohol running through you.
But he was drunk too and he couldn’t help but slowly sway you back and forth, feeling too reckless to care. Your dress flowed around, your hair blew, and he felt goosebumps all over.
He fixed the strap that was slowly cascading down your shoulder.
“Having fun?” He asks, face inching closer so you only heard.
You hum in response, eyes darting back and forth to his, your lips parting and slowly lifting upwards.
“What about you, birthday boy?”
He chuckled at that. The teasing finally sounded like you, which he always enjoyed.
“Best night ever.” He responds. “Best birthday, actually.”
“I bet you got a lot of gifts.” You say so purely, “I like my gift.”
He paused for a moment at that. Because it wasn’t really about the gifts, was it? He knew deep down in his heart that he wouldn’t have thrown this party if it wasn’t for you.
You encouraged him, convinced him that everyone loved and appreciated him the same way you did. Tonight, he got to see you shine again. He got to see his best friend glow under the light of the moon and fire, meshing into one beautiful piece of art that he wished was his.
He got to fall in love with you. As blatant as it sounded, that’s what it was.
You were so broken, you could still feel it inside you, but it was healing.
The thing was, Steve loved every single chip and edge of it. Because he knew he could soften them, he knew that despite the shadows in your mind, he’d still fall back to you. A shinning girl.
After a few seconds, he said quieter, “That’s not why.”
Your lips parted at that and it was now your turn for your cheeks to turn pink. You smiled faintly, the look on your face laced with pure shyness. You always felt like that around him.
You knew exactly what he meant when he said that, and you assumed you would forget it tomorrow. But you couldn’t forget the way it made you feel.
“Yeah?” You whisper, your fingers starting to dig into his hair.
His eyes fluttered for a second. He nodded.
“Can we go somewhere quieter?” You ask.
“What?”
He leaned in closer, his hair skimming yours, and his breath buzzed. The music was too loud and your voice wasn’t.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter.” You say into his ear, glad he couldn’t see your burning face.
He blinked and his mouth opened for a second, his mind jumbling on what to say. You didn’t seem overwhelmed like you normally were in crowds, you weren’t picking at your skin and shaking.
You looked like you meant it. And looks were better than tone, in his opinion. He always knew what you wanted.
He could just see it in your eyes, the way it flickered out to the lake that was just a few minutes away. He never wanted something more.
“Yeah, let’s go.” He smiles, hand sliding down and intertwining with yours.
It was so easy with him. You’d follow him wherever he went, you thought.
Your back pressed firmly against a boulder that was planted in the dirt, eyes facing toward the glistening lake. Steve did the same.
You felt sobered out by how close Steve was.
Your shoulder brushed his in the middle of it, your hands still laced together on his lap, thumb gently tracing over your cold skin. Your knee was pressed to his but neither of you moved away. It was quiet back there, far from all the noise, only faint owls being heard.
“I’ve been thinking about you.” He says after a long time.
You blink and he knew you were too nervous to look at him.
“Yeah? About what?”
“These past few months.” He hesitates to say.
Your eyes trained to your knees that layed flat on the ground because you were familiar with those months. The restless nights where you cried yourself to sleep, the nights where you didn’t because he was there. It happened so fast, like a switch, that feeling of being down all the time and wishing some mornings didn’t come.
It was hard for you to open up to Steve, and you almost did it by accident. He was having a hard time with his parents and he came over to yours for some quiet, softness. You cried to him that night and blurted out, your words disguised by what you knew was depression. Seeing your face red like that, your body shake into his, made him forget all his problems. Holding you was enough.
“Oh.” You manage to say.
You knew he was looking at you. You could always feel when he did, which was often. Sometimes when you slept. It made you curl into a ball and melt in his arms.
“I’ve been doing better. It’s been hard but it’s.. better.”
He nods. “I know, I can see it. You look really happy tonight.”
You look at him, his pupils already dialated.
“I just- I’ve been wanting to tell you that I’m really glad it was me.” He says quietly, his fingers squeezing yours, “That you felt comfortable enough to tell me things. I know it must’ve been hard.”
You gave him a small smile. He scooted closer because he knew you were trying hard to keep it together.
You curled up closer to him because ever since you two sat down, his eyes never left you. So warm, big, hazel.
“I want you to keep doin’ that, if its happy or not. Cus I’m always here, okay?”
You took a deep breath and you felt it shake inside your stomach. Your knees pushed against your chest and you hugged his arm tightly.
“You’re my first thought, Steve.” You whisper. “Always.”
You heard his breath hitch at that, his arms tightening around you. He kissed the top of your hair, your strands tasting like smoke and pinewood. He wanted to stay in this embrace until the sun rose.
“You are too.” He says.
You take a moment to find your words again.
“I still feel sad a lot for no reason, but not all the time.” You continue, “I honestly don’t know what happened to me, it’s like… I lost myself. I don’t know why.”
He rubbed your sides up and down, feeling the sparkles and small gems on your dress. He gently squeezed your hip.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be explained at the moment. It’s just not coming to you cus it’s happening right now, and it’s okay. But when all those bad feelings go away, which they will, you’ll see it.”
You look up at him, his hair strands flopped over his face and some over his eyes. You gently pushed it back like routine.
“I hope it does.” You whisper.
“It will, I know it. I promise.”
“And I want you to be there. When that happens.. when I’m happy.”
He smiled warmly, and he felt his cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiled at you tonight. “Tonight’s been really fun.” He hears you say.
His eyes flicked to your shoulders, your neck, your eyes again.
“…It would’ve been boring if you weren’t here.”
“Your birthday party couldn’t be boring regardless.” You let out a soft laugh and he felt it against his arm.
“It for sure would’ve been boring.” He chuckles, playfully glaring his eyes. “You’re the only person I want around, if I’m being honest.”
“That so?”
“Very much so.”
You smiled and shook your head teasingly, looking back to the water. His head never turned like yours, still looking down at you, still wanting to say the words deep in his heart. His lips parted and seeing this version of you was like a piece of him sparking up again. His eyes skimmed the top of your face and he could see how your eyes fluttered at the sight of the lake.
“Let’s go swim.” He suggests.
“It’s definitely freezing.”
“You don’t wanna swim with the birthday boy?”
“It’s already the next day, Steve.” You giggle. “Can’t use that card now.”
When you turned to look at him, your eyes glowing, you saw his bottom lip tugged out into a small pout. You rolled your eyes and laughed, because you knew that he reeled you in too far. Before you could blink, he smushed a soft kiss to your forehead and jolted up- hand extended.
You took it and he pushed you up. You looked down and realized that there was no way you would go inside the water with your dress on.
“No way.” You shake your head. “I’m not going in with my dress on.”
He shrugged like it was no big deal, his hands already coming to take off his shirt and shorts, leaving him in his boxer shorts.
“Just keep your underwear on.”
“Steve!” You scoff with a shy laugh and he grinned at you.
“Oh cmon, it’s just me.” He dips his feet in the small area of water, “it’s dark anyways, I won’t see.”
You glare your eyes at him because you knew he most definitely could see. The moon was shinning brightest on its early summer days, and the fire a distance away echoed shadows.
You realized he was already ankle deep in the water and you felt a little silly for standing there, watching him. You always watched him.
Once his back was turned and he was focused on getting deeper into the water, you slowly slipped off your dress. The chill instantly hit you and you knew it was going to get worse when you got in. You tiptoed over and felt the water, and you let out a soft yelp at how cold it felt.
“Oh my god!” You shudder, “no way Steve, I don’t wanna. It’s freezing!”
You hugged yourself and you heard him chuckle. It wasn’t mocking or cocky at all, just in a way that made him smile at how pure you could be in these moments. He swam over to you, hair stuck up, his shoulders shinning in drops.
“Cmere.” He says softly, hand coming out again.
You took a deep breath and took it, his fingers icy. He firmly wrapped it around you and it felt like anything but shivers. It was genuine comfort. Vulnerability of being this exposed in front of him.
“You got it.” His voice was gentle as he slowly and slowly tugged you in, your throat hitching. “It feels better once you’re used to it.”
Goosebumps trail all over you but you still managed to get inside the water waist deep. You didn’t even realize that he never stopped holding you.
You two spent a few minutes swimming around, staying close to each other and laughing about the events of the night. And when he laughed with you, his eyes would gaze down to your lips, his ears turning pink. The two of you would just look at each other before going back to swimming, that same looking happening over and over again like a cycle.
It was stupid and so reckless, and you felt breathless but free at the same time. Almost like you never wanted to get out, never wanted to leave the sight of him under the moonlight.
“This is the stupidest idea ever.” You huff from the cold.
And when you finally emerged back from the water, he finally saw the version of you he was familiar with every night. Content with your shoulders relaxed, your makeup streaming down your face regardless of your huge smile. It was you, all over again, right in front of Steve. He wanted nothing more.
It was insanely intimate for the two of you just to dry off and say “friends”. Your hair was wet and your skin was glowing, and it was like seeing you for the first time.
He paddled just a bit closer to you and slithered his arms around your waist, tugging you closer. It was a slippery mess but he felt warm all over, your chest pressed against his and his hair pushed back by you.
Despite the cold wind hitting his exposed shoulders, he had no intent to move or let you go. He remembered the fond familiarity of being this close to you, how easily comfortable he felt even though he’s only been close to you for a few months.
His forehead brushed yours, and your hand slid behind his neck. He melted.
“You’re crazy, Steve Harrington.” You giggle, not even caring that you probably had runny mascara down your cheeks.
He pulled you closer, legs brushing yours underwater as you two stood, head tilted with a soft smile. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this much skin.
With a smirk, he said, “Mhm, and look who’s in the water.”
You rolled your eyes and he chuckled.
“…I feel so good.” You admit with a whisper.
“Like yourself again?”
You nodded.
He didn’t respond and you finally turned your head to look at him. You almost shriveled up into nothingness. His eyes were glued to your bra, to the thin lace detail that adored your chest. It was a new set, but there’s no way he’d know that, and the light pink color stood out in the darkness.
You gave him a small splash.
“I see you, perv.”
His smile returns and he splashes you back. “I like it. The lace.”
You take a moment to see it yourself, remembering the small little flower and vine patterns on it. It was pretty, and it made you feel like it too. Apparently, he agreed.
“I like it too.” You hum, “it’s a set.”
Oh god. Why did you say that? You definitely thought there was no way he’d go underwater just to see, he wouldn’t be able to anyways. That’s when you saw one of his hands splash down, holding your lower back and bringing you closer, fingers dancing across your wet skin and slowly doing down.
You felt a tug and immediately froze. He didn’t do anything bad, just simply traced his finger over the side of your underwear- shaking under the touch of the lace that clung to your skin, his knuckles just sliding under the material. You were completely breathless, eyes trained on the hair splaying all over his chest that dripped water.
“It looks.. really good on you.” He says quietly, even if it was just the two of you. Yet at the same time, scarily enough, he wanted the whole world to hear how he saw you.
“And I’m not just saying that. You really are beautiful. I mean it.”
“Steve…” You whisper because it felt like a lie.
Something that you would convince yourself while looking in the mirror, but it always fogged up and felt disgusting. And Steve was slowly leaning in.
He didn’t know how badly he wanted it.
To kiss you.
To feel you. Even if his skin was sliding against yours, it still wasn’t enough. It’s been hiding deep in his mind, in his soul, but tonight almost felt like a sign that he wasn’t making this all up.
“Believe me this time, please.”
“I try.” You whisper.
He was patient. Always. That’s something that defined Steve Harrington, that just made sense for you.
“Why do you think I took us out here? I… I want it to just be us. Always.” His voice slightly breaks, “And it’s not just because your pretty. Because you are, very pretty. You’re just- you’re you and it drives me insane… and I would stay here in the freezing cold the whole night telling you how much I like you.”
You blinked back tears, especially at his last words, because it swirled in your stomach that you felt utterly sick. And so beautiful at the same time.
He was everything you’ve ever wanted and more, like a crave that couldn’t be fulfilled no matter how many times you had it. You wanted him. But a part of you didn’t want him to want you, because your afraid of causing harm, meddling sadness into his life.
But he looked like he was ready for love, whatever that meant for you. He wanted to love you.
With his hair frazzled and already drying in the wrong places, a water drop just over his mole, eyes glossy just like yours. It looked like he meant it so dearly.
“I feel like it’s always been there.” You whisper.
He just nods because he felt that same aching numb. He whispered back.
“Me too.”
You felt your fingers start to shake against his shoulders, your head slightly twitching and your heart making your skin move. You didn’t expect to feel this sinking feeling.
You take a small inhale, stopping midway because the nerves caught up to your throat, blinking the tears away and looking down at his chest. Anything but his eyes.
“I tried to push it away so hard.” You breath out, voice squeaking.
“But why?”
“Cmon Steve.” You look up at him and you saw nothing but pure desperation on his face, your words breaking his heart more than your own.
It was so so sad.
You continue, “I’ve been in this… awful mess for months. And I- I can’t lay everything out on you. I just can’t. You don’t deserve that.”
He shakes his head with all his might. “Yes, you can. I don’t care about all that stuff, okay? I’ve been there for you before, every night, every phone call, everytime- everytime I’ve slept in your bed. And we both knew.. god, we knew. I was stupid not to have you sooner.
Small hiccups were starting to be heard from you, letting out soft cries, out of adoration for him and something else. He wiped away every single one.
He looked so handsome.
“You think it’ll ever change? No. I know it won’t. I like you so so so much.” He pleas, “you don’t deserve someone who doesn’t want to listen. But I want to listen, everytime, whatever it is.”
“I never want to bother you with my problems and I think… I’ve been holding it in for so long.” You say.
“I know you have.” He says, but not in a way to shame you. “And I’d do it over and over again, I’d sneak into your window at 2 am before you even have to call. I’d do anything for you.”
All you did was quickly nod, because with Steve, it was always the simplest task to believe him. He made it so easy, so beautiful written and said that it made you crave it deeply. Your hands clinged to his arms, nails digging into his embrace.
“Okay.” You whisper, eyes meeting his, the pure relief etched into them.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“…Good.”
It was quiet after that, his words lingering in the air and the water delicately flowing around you two. His eyes never left your face and you didn’t know where to look.
Steve was the last place.
“I like you too.” You blurt out, voice recovering. “So fucking much, Steve… it hurts. It hurts so bad.”
An ugly sob escaped you.
“Oh.” He mumbles sadly and immediately hugs you, his warmth radiating.
That night, you think you cried for 20 minutes straight, waist deep in the freezing water of Hawkins, your legs tangled with his under the surface. He kissed you everywhere, your bare shoulders, neck, everywhere that seemed tender in emotion. You didn’t realize how tense you’ve been.
He could feel how high you put your walls up and it broke his heart.
He never let go.
He whispered the sweetest words into your ear, exactly like all the other nights, but this time he was finally able to say the things he couldn’t. The words that would’ve revealed his feelings for you, the ones he locked far away. Every feature of you, everything he admired about you, your beauty. He confessed he would think about you every waken moment, collect movies for you for when you didn’t want to leave the house, make you food for when you were too sad for an appetite.
It was like he did almost everything when a boy was in love.
Along with that night, an hour passing, he finally kissed you. It was imperfectly perfect, while you two tried to get out of the lake, slipping right into his arms and landing his lips to yours.
You felt fuzzy that he never even looked down at your body when you two got out, no matter how hard the material clung to your skin. It showed you that Steve Harrington truly didn’t like you for your looks, your figure or outer personality.
It was what was really deep inside, a side for his view and what your worth truly was. The girl he got to live life with, being right there in your journey, seeing every step.
And that you were also his. Steve’s.
You two kissed for some more, passionately and clumsy, nothing else with no intention for more. You gently pulled down onto his chin so his lips parted, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.
“I’ve thought about kissing you so much.” He slowly pulls away, thumb tracing your cheekbone, “every night we were together. Everytime we hugged.. when we talked, when we layed next to each other.”
“…I would’ve kissed you back.”
His stomach flutters. “Good to know.” And he’s back to kissing you, languid and promising.
A cheer is erupted back where the bonfire was, reminding the two of you that there was an active party a few feet away.
“I’m actually gonna kick everyone out now. I didn’t even get a s’more.” He whispers against your swollen kissed lips with a pouty face.
You giggle, hair tousled and damp from his fingers digging into it.
“You made that threat before and it didn’t work.”
He smirked and tightened his arms around you, dipping his head, finding your lips with his again. You smiled against it and he returned it back.
This felt so natural it almost felt fake. With your feet on your tiptoes, his arms fitting right into yours, nose nudging his in a mind losing kiss.
He held you so gently like it’s been the first time he’s ever touched you. However this time, just maybe, it was the first time he did it with all his heart.
With so much love.
He pulled away reluctantly, lips smacking, and kissed your forehead- keeping his mouth right against your head.
“I mean it this time.” He whispers.
——
wow longest fic yet!!!
who else is also shocked, upset, surprised, idk what how to feel about SUPER SOAKER being AI?????✋✋✋✋ cus I know I am
SUMMARY: Where a late-night closing shift turns into a nightmare, Billy Hargrove turns into more than just an annoying coworker, and Steve sweeps in to save the day.
WHAT TO EXPECT: violence, flayed Billy Hargrove, choking/strangulation, panic/anxiety, hurt/comfort, mention of cuts, fluff, not cannon, use of Y/n
A/N: n/a xx
WORD COUNT: 4.0k
“Hey, Billy,” you glanced over your shoulder to the blond-headed boy rummaging through the supplies closet. Notes written haphazardly were scribbled on a legal pad on the check in desk, passive aggressively reminding all employees to search the lockers for forgotten food or else we’d get rats. “Did you check the men’s locker room for food? I don’t want Darrell to get mad at us.”
Billy’s frantic search for a mop skidded to a halt as he turned around slowly to look at you directly in the eyes. His perfectly curled mullet clung to his sweat-drenched and pale skin. You didn’t want to say anything to your coworkers, but Billy had been looking sickly for the past couple of days. It surprised you that he still showed up to work. Dark and angry veins stretched below the surface of his skin and a feverish sheen clung to him, even in the air-conditioned break room. His eyes were the worst part, though. They were glassy and unfocused, pupils blown wide like he’d been staring straight through your soul, like he knew you were already insignificant to him.
His jaw kept tightening and unclenching, the muscles ticking as if he was grinding his teeth down to nothing. One hand flexed at his side, fingers twitching like they didn’t quite obey his mind anymore. You watched as a faint tremor ran through him, like he was trying to hold himself back.
Your instincts were screaming when nothing was technically wrong. Billy scared the shit out of you when he looked normal, even more so when he glared at you like you were his next prey. Your best guesses were a bad case of the cold, sun poisoning, or maybe even a messy breakup.
Despite your judgemental assumptions, part of you hoped your coworker and classmate was all right. “Billy? Are you okay?” You ask, watching his broad back muscles fill the red lifeguard longsleeve. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, but it looked like he had grown a few inches taller. Or maybe it was just your fear of him growing. “I have some advil in the back if you need something,” your voice suddenly small and meek.
He slammed the supply closet door with a thwack and stomped out of the check in office, completely ignoring your olive branch. “I’ll check the lockers after I shower,” he said, voice flat with a tinge of aggression.
You told yourself it was nothing, just another weird mood swing of his to shove down and ignore. You’re exhausted, and overthinking it wouldn’t make the double shift any shorter. Steve was coming to pick you up soon, and the thought of him waiting outside grounded you more than anything else. He would be leaning against his signature red BMW, his jean-clad legs crossed, hands tucked in his front pockets, and an easy smile on his face as he saw you walking up. Time really couldn’t move any slower as you banished the thought and focused on finishing up.
You wiped down counters, straightened the pool chairs, and put the money from the snack bar in the safe. Your body ached in that dull, heavy way that only came after too many hours on your feet.
The mop bucket sloshed quietly as you pushed it across the tile when you heard glass shatter then a gnarly crash echoing from down the hallway. The sound made your heart drop because it didn’t sound like an accident. It sounded like something being thrown.
The crash came louder this time. It was the sound of something slamming into tile with bone-jarring force, causing the lockers to shudder in their frames. The echo ricocheted down again, sharp enough to make your ears ring, followed by the wet, hollow thud of something heavy hitting the ground.
Voices started up, high-pitched and panicked, which made you panic even more. No one was supposed to be here, it was after hours. It sure didn’t sound like kids trying to trespass and jump in the pool.
You heard shouting, overlapped and frantic, the words blurred together. Someone was crying, another yelled the number ‘eleven’, and then the distinct sound of choking. Your chest tightened and adrenaline flooded your veins so fast it made you dizzy. Your heart pounded, each beat loud in your ears as fear snapped your body awake, every nerve on edge. The rational part of your brain tells you this can’t be real, but your instincts don’t care.
You drop the mop as the lights flicker. It clatters against the tile, the sound exploding in the sudden quiet between screams. Your pulse hammers and your hands shake, breath coming quick and shallow as you brace yourself for something terrible.
You don’t even have it in you to meekly peek through the crack in the door. Instead, you shoved it open completely until it slammed against the wall. The men’s locker room assaulted you all at once as you took in the sharp tang of metal and sweat, the echo of shouting bouncing off concrete walls. Your Reeboks skidded slightly on the tile as you stumbled inside, heart slamming against your ribs.
The noise was coming from the weight room. You turned the corner and froze.
Billy had a girl lifted clear off the ground, one massive hand wrapped around her throat. She’s brown-haired, small, her legs kicking uselessly a feet above the floor. His arm was locked straight like she weighed nothing at all.
In the corner, four kids were huddled together, backs pressed to the wall, eyes wide and shining with terror. You didn’t even get a good look at them, too focused on the girl Billy was choking. You didn’t know Billy was capable of this. But then again, this didn’t look like Billy. His shoulders were hunched, spine curved in a way that looked painfully unnatural. The muscles in his back rippled and twitched beneath his skin like something was moving underneath it. The black veins you noticed from before were even more pronounced and now covered his whole body. He wasn’t even yelling or speaking, he just looked so focused and sure of his actions.
The girl’s eyes flicked to you, wild with fear, then her eyes rolled back into her head. Something in you snapped and you didn’t think or hesitate. You grabbed the heaviest weight you could lift, fingers slipping on cold metal, and swung with everything you have.
The impact was brutal. The weight connected with the side of his head in a sickening crunch, the sound echoing through the room as Billy staggered forward, grip finally loosening. The girl collapsed to the floor in a heap, gasping and coughing.
Billy began to rise. You lifted the weight over your head, muscles screaming as adrenaline carried you. You swung again, desperate and reckless, determined to finish it before he could get back up. But he caught it in his palm, making your heart stutter. His hand clamped around the metal bar of the weight like it was nothing. No strain or hesitation was in his face. The impact didn’t even make him flinch.
Slowly, Billy straightened to his full height, still gripping the weight, his gaze never leaving yours. His eyes were dark, pupils now blown wide until there was barely any color left, like something was staring out from behind them. He threw the weight aside, crashing into the rack with a deafening clang as it skidded across the floor, but Billy didn’t look away. His attention was locked on you, sharp and suffocating like you're pinned under it.
A slow smile pulled at his mouth. This wasn’t the smile he gave the older women who lounged near his tower. There was no charm or arrogance in it, just hunger.
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said softly, not matching the weight of the situation. He stalked you like prey. Each step was deliberate and unhurried. “You think you’re brave for doing that? You think that was enough, as if you could hurt me?” He talks as he moves, words slicing into you, calm and cruel. You felt weak under his scrutiny.
You retreat without realizing it, feet scurrying backward across the floor, heart hammering so hard it hurts. The brick pressed into your spine all too soon, stealing the last of your space from him. Billy stopped inches from you. He leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath, hot and uneven against your cheek. Like he could smell the fear radiating off you, he clamped a hand over your throat and began to drag you up the wall. Your back scraped against the brick as he lifted you, toes barely brushing the floor. The pressure around your throat tightened, crushing and merciless. His grip was iron and you choked on a broken sob as instinct took over.
You clawed at his hand. Your nails scraped uselessly against his skin, fingers slipping as panic made you clumsy. You tried to pull his wrist away, try to kick, try anything, but he didn’t even react. It was like fighting a wall. Tears blurred your vision.
“Please—” The word barely made it out, strangled and weak, swallowed by the crushing force around your throat. Your lungs burned, desperate for air that wouldn’t come. Each breath grew shorter and thinner, until all you could hear was the roaring of blood in your ears. Black spots crept in at the edges of your vision, closing in no matter how hard you fought them back.
You thought of your boyfriend. You thought of Steve waiting outside right now, leaning against his car, checking his watch, wondering why you’re taking so long. You imagined the crease between his brows when he got worried, the way he always asked if you’re okay, slinging an arm around your shoulders.
You should’ve been out there by now. Your hands weakened, scratches slowing, your heart stuttered as your body started to give up on you. The room tilted. Billy’s face blurred, twisting into something inhuman as his expression read satisfied.
Your heartbeat slowed. The last thing you hear, cutting through the ringing in your ears like a lifeline, was Steve’s voice.
“Hey, dickhead, get your hands off of my girl!”
You hit the floor hard, crumpling where Billy dropped you, your body folding in on itself as air tore back into your lungs in painful, ragged gasps. Your vision swam, edges blurring, brick and fluorescent light smearing together as you curled instinctively, hands still clawing at your own throat. You could still feel his hands around it.
You heard the sound of fists connecting with flesh over and over again. You blinked, trying to focus, and through the haze you saw Steve, wild and furious, swinging with everything he had. He didn’t hesitate or hold back. Every hit was fueled by pure panic and rage, like the sight of Billy’s hands on you flipped some irreversible switch.
You watched from the floor, dazed, as Steve beat Billy to a pulp, only He only stopped when something Billy lifted off the ground. Just…rose. Your breath caught. Your head swam harder, nausea rolling through you as your brain scrambled for logic. This couldn’t be real. You had to be completely out of it. Oxygen deprivation, shock, or something.
The brown-haired girl, the one Billy had been choking, stood now, eyes blazing, her face twisted in fury as her hands shook in the air. She was screaming, raw and animal, and Billy hung there like a broken marionette, suspended by nothing at all.
God, you must’ve been so out of it.
The scream crescendoed, and with a violent flick of her hands, Billy was hurled sideways with impossible force. He slammed through the wall like it was made of paper, bricks exploding outward as his body disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Silence crashed down around you. Your ears rang. Your head lolled back against the floor, vision still hazy, chest aching with every breath.
Steve was suddenly right in front of you. He dropped behind you and placed you in between his legs, your back pressed against his heaving chest. “Hey,” he whispered immediately, voice low and shaking, like he was holding himself together just for you. “Hey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, okay?”
He pulled his arms firmly around your torso, one hand fidgeting with the strap of your lifeguard swimsuit. You could feel his heart racing behind your back, fast and frantic, like it was still catching up to everything that had happened. “You’re safe,” he murmured, over and over, pressing his chin gently into your shoulder. “You’re so safe. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His grip tightened just a little, protective rather than panicked. “I should’ve been here sooner,” he whispered, words thick with guilt. “I’m so sorry. I swear…I swear I won’t let Billy near you ever again. Won’t let him even think about you.”
“Steve…” you barely manage to whisper, feeling your throat close up all over again. “W-what just happened?”
“Shh, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” Steve rocked you in his arms, knowing that the gentle motion lulled you. He kissed the top of your head, lips lingering in your hair. “Don’t worry about it, just breathe with me,” he said softly. “That’s it, good girl. Slow. You’re doing so good.”
“Thank you,” you wheeze, “for saving me.”
He chuckled, already knowing you were going to make a quick recovery with that fight still in you. “You were so brave,” he whispered. “You hear me?” You nod, finally slumping all of your dead weight into him. “So so brave. My brave girl.”
Steve adjusted his grip on you automatically when footsteps approached, tightening his hold just enough to keep you steady without jostling your breathing. He didn’t look away from you at first, eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing proof that you were still here and all right.
He looked up to see the kids were hovering a few feet away. Lucas, Will, Mike, Max, and the girl that just single-handedly launched flayed Billy through the wall. However, they looked small now. Shell-shocked and covered in grime, sweat, and fear. Steve exhaled sharply.
“You little shits okay?” he asked, voice rough.
They nodded. Hesitant. Max crossed her arms as a self defense mechanism, like didn’t just watch her stepbrother get beat up. Part of her believed he deserved it in away, the other found him redeemable.
Will’s hands were still shaking and Lucas swallowed hard before answering. “Yeah,” Lucas said. “I think so.”
Steve let out a breath he had been holding for some time now, his shoulders loosened just a fraction. “Good,” he said, then immediately scowled. “Because that was insane. Absolutely crazy. All of you could’ve been lying here dead.”
“But, El—El, she—” Mike started to argue with the older boy until he cut the kid off.
“El this, El that,” Steve emphasized his words to get his message across. “As the only fully conscious and responsible adult here, it would’ve been my fault if something went south. Consider yourselves lucky I came to pick up my girlfriend.”
Steve looked down to you, nearly passed out in his arms. Max bristled. “We didn’t have a choice.”
Steve huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Billy…something’s wrong with him.”
His jaw tightened. “Doesn’t mean you go sneaking into places like this. You don’t face off with psychopaths on your own. You don’t—” He stopped himself, rubbing a hand over his face. “God. You don’t do this without backup.”
El stepped forward, eyes flicking to you. “He was going to kill her.”
Steve met her gaze, something serious and unflinching passing between them.
“I know,” he said quietly.
For a moment, the room was still. Then he straightened, squaring his shoulders. “But you fought him,” he added, grudging respect threading through his tone. “You didn’t run. You protected each other.” Lucas nodded once. Will looked relieved. Max lifted her chin just a little. “That matters,” Steve said. “That counts…for now.” Steve stood with you against his chest, hiking you higher into his hold, already turning towards the makeshift exit in the bricks. “But next time,” he added over his shoulder, “throw him out the door or something. This is going to be a bitch to explain.”
A bea passed. “Deal,” Max said.
Steve snorted. “Yeah. We’ll see. C’mon,” Steve said, already moving. “Let’s go before Billy decides to come back for round two.”
He adjusted his grip on you and stepped through the rubble without hesitation, Nikes crunching over debris as he carried you straight through what used to be a brick wall. Warm summer night air rushed in and behind him, the kids followed, adrenaline finally bleeding into chatter.
“Did you see how far she threw him?” Lucas said, awe creeping into his voice.
“He went through the goddamn wall,” Max added, slinging an arm around El’s shoulders. “Like, through it.”
Will let out a shaky laugh. “That was kind of awesome.”
Steve shot them a look over his shoulder. “Hey! Hey—keep it down.” They quieted instantly. “As far as anyone knows,” Steve continued, nodding toward the gaping hole, “this was a structural failure. Old building. Bad foundation. Boom! Tragic, but not Miss Supernatural over here.”
Max snorted. “Sure.”
Steve didn’t slow. “I’m serious. Pool management asks? Earthquake. Gas leak. Anything but a telekinetic ten year old. Y/n is not getting in trouble for this.”
“We’re not ten!” The kids complained in unison.
You tried to breathe in, but it came out as a cough instead, sharp and rattling as you felt it through your burning chest.
“Hey, hey,” he said, breaking into a jog, arms tightening instinctively around you. “Easy. I’ve got you. Just hang on.”
The parking lot lights blurred as he moved faster, the night cool against your overheated skin. He got to his car, yanked the door open, and didn’t even think about putting you down.
“Alright,” he said, turning back to the kids. “Go. Get home. Lock your doors and stay out of trouble. Call me if you need to.”
El lingered, watching you closely. Steve nodded at her, an understanding passing through them. “Thank you.”
She nodded once, satisfied, and followed the others to another side of the parking lot where their discarded bikes were..
Steve slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door, finally letting out a breath, but he still didn’t move you. Instead, he shifted so you were cradled in his lap, one arm solid around your back, the other braced protectively across your waist.
He rested his forehead briefly against yours, grounding himself as much as you.
“Not letting you go yet,” he muttered. “You’re stuck with me for a minute.” The next twenty minutes to his house, he kept you in his lap, driving with one hand as you slowly but surely recovered.
+
You were cocooned in Steve’s bed, swallowed by soft navy sheets and one of his old Hawkins High gym t-shirts that you drowned in. His pajama pants were rolled around your hips, warm and familiar, smelling faintly like detergent and his expensive cologne.
He’d carried you inside earlier despite your protests. “I can walk, Steve,” you’d said, voice hoarse.
“I know,” he’d replied, already tightening his hold. “Humor me.”
He’d hovered the entire time you showered, sitting on the closed toilet lid, head in his hands and back hunched over. You could hear his cautious and worried breathing, like a very good boyfriend trying not to unravel in front of you.
Now you lay on your back, staring at the fan circling on the ceiling as he sat beside you on the mattress, leaning over you just slightly.
“Cold,” he warned softly, before the cream touched your skin. You hissed anyway. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately, even though his hands were impossibly gentle. He dabbed carefully along the bruises blooming dark against your throat, jaw tight as he worked. His touch was reverent, like he was afraid you might break if he pressed too hard.
He didn’t say much, but something was brewing deep down. When he finished your neck, he moved to the small cuts along your hairline, cleaning them with painstaking care. You flinched once, and he froze instantly.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Tell me if it hurts. I mean it.”
“It’s okay,” you said. “I promise.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Okay,” he said anyway, voice low. “Can you flip on your stomach for me, pretty girl?” Steve helped you roll over carefully, one hand braced at your hip, the other at your shoulder. You settled onto your stomach, cheek pressed into his pillow. “Just for a second,” he said, almost apologetically.
With his fingertips, Steve gently dragged his shirt up along your spine, exposing your mottled back to him. The scrapes there were angry and red, tracking where the brick had bitten into your skin. Steve inhaled sharply through his nose when he saw them.
You felt the way his hands hesitated, the way something in him twisted at the sight. “Steve,” your voice firm. “J-just get it over with.”
“I should’ve—” he started, then stopped himself. Instead, he dipped the cloth again and began to clean the scrapes, careful and methodical. You winced despite yourself, fingers curling into his sheets like a vice. “I know,” he whispered, immediately. “I know. I’m sorry, baby.”
“It’s not you,” you said, muffled into the pillow.
“I know,” he repeated, like he was trying to convince himself.
Each time you flinched, his jaw tightened. It clearly and visibly hurt him to be the one causing you even the smallest bit of pain, even when he was helping.
When Steve finished, he gingerly pulled his shirt back down and caressed your ruddy cheek with his knuckles.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “All done.”
He didn’t move away right away and neither did you.
The room was quiet, safe, and for the first time all night, you didn’t feel threatened.
You shifted closer, the sheets rustling softly as you climbed right into his space, settling on top of him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Steve adjusted instantly, one arm coming around the small of your back, where the cuts didn’t reach. The other slid up to cradle your head against his chest.
His heartbeat was steady and strong now. You felt it rise and fall beneath your cheek, anchoring you there. He ran his fingers through your hair slowly, absentmindedly, the way he always did when he wanted you to sleep. Your head lifted and fell with his breathing, the motion soothing in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.
“Call me crazy,” you murmured, voice soft and tired, “but… did that girl in the sauna with the brown hair start levitating?”
Steve’s fingers stilled for half a second. Then they resumed, gentle and rhythmic, like you didn’t just stump him. He let out a quiet huff, a small, almost fond chuckle. “Yeah,” he said lightly. “I think you scared yourself pretty good back there.”
You tilted your head just enough to hear him better. “I mean, yeah, but I thought I saw her and Billy’s feet just above the ground.”
“You lost a lot of oxygen,” he continued, tone easy, reasonable. “Adrenaline, shock, all that stuff messes with you. People see weird things.” His hand smoothed over your hair again, slower now.
He was probably right. Everything he was saying was true. You most likely just started hallucinating from the lack of oxygen. Plus, that would literally be impossible. “Yeah, okay.”
You hummed softly, eyelids heavy. “Get some rest,” Steve murmured, thumb tracing a slow line along your scalp. “We’ll talk about it in the morning. Right now you just need to sleep.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, voice dropping even lower. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
And with the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and his hand still moving through your hair, you finally rested after the fever dream of whatever happened after hours.
Soooooo I'm in my slasher summer era after watching stranger things season three and fear street😫
How do we feel about a Steve Harrington and reader camp counselor little meet cute kinda like flirtyyy, maybe like a little bit of lifeguard Steve in there👀
camp nowhere
steve harrington x reader
desc - you were forced by your parents to sign up to be a counsellor at camp nowhere over the summer because they claim its great life experience. amazing. but.. it actually did turn out to be kinda amazing. thanks to the great kids, the lake with the perfect view, the surprisingly comfy bed and, of course, your brand new acquaintance steve harrington
val speaks - ughhhh obsessed w this!!!! camp counsellor steve is a big part of who i am i fear - anways i took it as you didnt want me to actually make this with a murderer involved.. but i could be oh so wrong n if so just be like hey i said slasher summer wheres the slash n i will cook up smth else queenie
this is also just my corny truth like i did try to keep it down but i cant
i also wrote this in like 4 straight hours w no breaks so.. yea apologies if its like wut and wow this many words in that time is lowk impressive for me
word count: 9.3k
your parents called it a 'family meeting' which already put you on edge before you even reached the dining room.
family meetings were never about family in the soft, warm sense of the word. they were about decisions that had somehow already been made without you.
you stood in the doorway with your arms crossed and your eyebrows raised, taking in the scene. your mother had that hopeful too bright look she got whenever she thought she was being especially reasonable, your father was leaning against the table with a cup of coffee in his hand, and a leaflet sat between them.
“sit down” your mom said gently, which was never a promising sign.
“i’m standing.”
“please.”
you exhaled through your nose and pulled out the chair, letting yourself drop into it with as much dramatic resignation as you could manage. if they wanted a performance, they were going to get one.
your father glanced at your mother, then at you, like he was already tired of whatever this was going to become.
“we think,” your mother began, and you immediately hated the phrase, “that it would be really good for you to do something meaningful this summer.”
“i have plans.”
“you don't” your father said.
your mother slid the leaflet across the table.
it stopped in front of you with a little scrape of paper against wood. camp nowhere, it said in big cheerful letters across the top with a little painted sun rising behind a line of trees. beneath that was the slogan, printed in a font so corny it was almost offensive.
where memories are made and trails are conquered.
you stared at it for a second, then barked out a laugh despite yourself. “that's awful.”
your mother did not appreciate the reaction.
“it’s not awful,” she said. “it’s charming.”
“it’s embarrassing.”
“you’re being dramatic.”
“i learned from the best” you muttered.
that earned you a look from both of them.
your mother reached for the leaflet, tapped it twice, and said, as though she were explaining something obvious to a toddler, “we filled out the application for you.”
for a moment, the room went silent.
you looked from her to your father. “you what?”
“well,” your father said, with the deeply irritating calm of a man who had decided he was already in the right, “you have the summer free.”
“that does not mean you get to sign me up for camp.”
“it is not camp,” your mother said. “it is a leadership experience.”
“it is literally camp.”
“and a leadership experience.”
you leaned back in the chair slowly, staring at the ceiling as though it might offer divine intervention. it did not.
“you’re joking.”
“we’re not,” your mother said. “we think it will be good for you. you’ll meet people. get some fresh air. have some responsibility.”
“i have responsibility.”
your father raised an eyebrow. “you left a plate in your room for three days.”
“that is not the kind of responsibility i meant.”
“you’ll be a counsellor,” your mother went on, undeterred. “for the younger group. you’re good with kids.”
“i'm not good with kids.”
“you babysat mrs. leon’s twin boys for a whole afternoon and they said they liked you.”
“they also ate crayons.”
“and they still liked you”your mother smiled, entirely too pleased with herself. “it’ll be good for you.”
“you said that already.”
“because it’s true.”
“you are both insane.”
“we’re trying to give you an experience,” your father said, “you’ve had a long school year, and this will be good for you. your mom and i loved camps.”
“of course you did,” you said flatly. “you two were probably the kind of kids who volunteered to hold hands during songs.”
your mother’s mouth twitched. “there is nothing wrong with holding hands during songs.”
“there is when you’re making me sign up for weeks in the woods because of it.”
they had that look on their faces now, the one that meant they thought they were being kind. it was the most infuriating version of cruel because you could tell they genuinely believed it. they genuinely thought this was a gift, they genuinely thought one day you would thank them for the privilege of spending your summer in the middle of nowhere supervising children while wearing some horrendous camp shirt.
you looked back down at the leaflet. camp nowhere. even the name sounded like a joke somebody had made too late at night and then somehow gotten approved by a committee.
the pictures were almost annoyingly nice, though. a lake at sunset. a row of cabins with lights glowing in the windows. kids canoeing in bright life vests, smiling wide enough to make you suspicious. a campfire ring with marshmallows skewered on sticks. it all looked like the kind of life that happened in movies, in those glossy summer scenes that always seemed to end with someone falling in love under the stars.
you hated that your first instinct was to think, well. maybe it won’t be completely miserable.
“we’ll let you pack what you want,” your mother said, as if this softened the blow. “summer clothes, comfortable shoes, things like that. and maybe something a little nicer for the closing ceremony.”
“closing ceremony?”
“there’s a big games day at the end.”
“of course there is.”
“it’s very exciting” she said.
you let your head fall back for a second, eyes closed. “so i'm being banished.”
“you’re not being banished.”
your father laughed into his mug. your mother smiled that annoying, fond smile she got when she thought your misery was amusing.
“you’ll be fine” she said.
you opened one eye and looked at her. “that’s an optimistic thing to say for someone who just ruined my summer”
“you’ll thank us later.”
“i doubt that.”
“you’ll see.”
you didn’t say anything after that. there was no point. they had already won, and you all knew it. that was the worst part. not the camp, not even the prospect of months of forced social interaction and bug spray and whatever else people did at forests disguised as leisure. it was the certainty that your parents had made up their minds and expected you to eventually become grateful for it.
so you took the leaflet, stood up, and left the room without another word.
you could hear your mother call after you that dinner would be ready in twenty minutes, but you ignored her and kept walking until you reached your room and shut the door behind you.
for a long time, you just stood there.
then you threw the leaflet onto your bed as if that might help and sank onto the edge of the mattress, staring at the wall with deep, bitter offense.
you picked up your phone, dialled your friends, and when they answered you gave them the full story in the kind of voice that suggested you might actually be on the verge of murder.
by the end of the call, they were laughing at your fate and claiming they miss you already.
when the room went quiet again, the anger settled into something heavier, quieter. not quite defeat, but not far off. you flopped backward onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of your parents downstairs. plates clinking. drawers opening and shutting. normal life continuing as if your entire summer hadn't just been stolen.
you rolled onto your side and dragged the leaflet back toward you.
camp nowhere.
you read through it properly this time, they had activities. a lake. nature walks. canoeing. arts and crafts. team events. singing around a fire. a “positive, inclusive atmosphere for campers and counsellors alike.”
you snorted at that.
but then, grudgingly, your eyes landed on the photos again. kids with painted faces and crooked grins. counsellors laughing beside them. sunlight filtering through tall trees. a rope bridge over water. docks. firelight. someone holding a guitar. no, it did not look as miserable as it had any right to. in fact, it did look pleasant.
you turned the leaflet over and over in your hands, slowly letting your irritation drain into a tired kind of curiosity.
kids were fun, sometimes. and maybe camp would be okay.
maybe you would learn something useful, maybe you’d get to row a canoe or climb a wall or become one of those annoyingly competent people who could tie knots and start fires without suffering. maybe you’d spend a few weeks away from home and come back with a good story, maybe it would be one of those summers you remembered later and treasured.
maybe.
you were almost annoyed at yourself for thinking it, but the thought had already taken root.
by the time evening came around, you had made yourself a little less miserable. you still gave your parents a dramatic, dignified silence, which they both endured with remarkable patience, and you still muttered something rude when your father asked whether you were excited. but underneath all of that, under the sulking and the resentment and the very real desire to fake your own disappearance, there was a tiny flicker of something else.
not hope, exactly.
something softer than that.
-
the next few days passed in the strange blur that always came before going somewhere you did not want to go.
suddenly every drawer needed sorting, every shirt had to be judged, every pair of shoes you owned was either too dirty, too nice, or too wrong for camp. you packed summer clothes with the stubborn optimism of someone who had no clue what the weather would be but determined to trust the glossy pictures in the leaflet anyway. shorts. t-shirts. worn-in trainers. one slightly nicer jumper for evenings.
you also packed your walkman, because there was no universe in which you were surviving a long car journey with your parents’ conversation and your father’s taste in music without some kind of escape.
the morning of departure arrived in bright, cheerful sunlight that felt personal. of course the day you were being shipped off to the wilderness would be beautiful, of course the sky would be blue and the world would smell like grass and warm pavement.
your parents were infuriatingly upbeat.
your father loaded the car with the kind of practical efficiency that suggested he had been waiting for this day and your mother hovered around the porch making sure you had everything, every now and then pressing some last-minute item into your hands like a send off blessing. bug spray. a towel. an extra water bottle. snacks for the road. a notebook. sunscreen.
you climbed into the back seat, shut the door and immediately looked out the window so you wouldn't have to see their faces until the very last second.
the drive was long enough that the scenery gradually changed from town streets to long stretches of road to dense green blur. the farther you went, the more the world seemed to empty out around you.
houses disappeared. shops disappeared. familiar landmarks became occasional gas stations and fields and then nothing but trees. your father’s music played low through the car speakers, something from the sort of band he always claimed was “good for the soul” which you were increasingly convinced meant it was good for him and terrible for everyone else.
your mother kept glancing back at you with a smile that was far too hopeful for such a stupid situation.
you pulled your walkman from your bag and slid on the headphones.
peace. maybe not full peace, but at least now it was happening with a soundtrack you chose yourself. you leaned your head against the window, let the music fill the space where your irritation had been and watched the world flick past in green and gold streaks.
somewhere in the middle of a song, you drifted into that strange half-sleep that happens when you are too tired to be properly awake but too uncomfortable to fully rest. the road became a hum. the trees became shadows. your parents became blurred voices under the music. every now and then the car would dip or sway and you’d surface just long enough to see a sign that meant absolutely nothing to you before sinking back again.
when you finally startled awake, it was because the car had slowed.
you blinked, sitting up straight, and pulled the headphones off one ear. ahead, through the windshield, was a huge wooden sign standing at the edge of a long gravel driveway. camp nowhere. the same slogan from the leaflet was painted underneath in cheerful, obnoxious letters. somewhere beyond it, you could see the roofs of cabins tucked between trees and the shimmer of water through the trunks.
it really did look like the kind of place a movie would use for a summer setting.
as you got closer, the scene came into focus in frustrating detail. a big bus parked off to one side. coloured banners strung between trees. kids running in clusters dragging bags or waving at each other, looking wildly excited in a way you couldn't quite understand.
adults in bright team shirts moved around with clipboards and wide smiles, shepherding everyone toward some unseen centre of camp.
once you stepped out, there was no pretending this was temporary anymore. this was it. this was your summer.
your mother turned around in her seat. “ready?”
no, you thought.
instead you said, “i hate that you’re enjoying this.”
she smiled. “we’ll miss you.”
“that is the least convincing thing you’ve ever said.”
your father leaned back from the driver’s seat and gave you a look in the rearview mirror that was almost soft. almost. “you’ll be fine.”
your mom kissed your forehead before you could dodge it, and then you were climbing out of the car.
the air smelled like pine and lake water. you shut the car door behind you and stood for a second with the sun on your face, blinking against the brightness.
then a man in a green camp shirt came striding toward you and he was beaming.
“welcome to camp nowhere!” he said, “you must be our new counsellor.”
he held out a dark green shirt toward you.
you stared at it. “leafy team?”
his grin widened as if your reaction delighted him. “that’s right. you’ll be with the leafies this summer.”
“leafies” you repeated slowly, because there was no way that was a real sentence.
“we keep it fun around here.”
“right.”
he laughed and told you to head inside the main hut for orientation. you took the shirt mostly so he would stop talking then followed the path toward the building with the rest of the new staff.
inside, there were rows of folding chairs, a long table at the front and a whole mess of counsellors already gathering in clusters and laughing too loudly. everyone seemed weirdly polished as if they’d been born knowing how to wear a whistle around their neck without looking stupid.
you found yourself gravitating toward the back because it was easier to glare from there.
the man from outside, apparently in charge, stood at the front and called for everyone’s attention. he introduced himself, introduced the rest of the staff, and then started going through the teams. the names got progressively more dramatic in a way that made you increasingly suspicious. the hawks. the wolves. the foxes. the bears. the eagles.
and then, finally, with the kind of smile that suggested he found this hilariously unfortunate, he said, “and we’ve got the leafies too.”
there was a ripple of laughter through the room, a couple of counsellors even made sympathetic noises.
you turned and realised that the other teams had somehow all landed on names that sounded bold or fierce or at least vaguely respectable.
why the hell were you a leaf?
“each team gets two counsellors,” he said. “they will together run their group of kids over the summer-”
the door to the hut opened.
a guy stepped in, one hand already raised in apology, hair slightly mussed like he’d ran here. he looked a little flushed, a little out of breath and immediately too handsome for the situation.
“sorry,” he said, voice easy and warm even while he looked mildly embarrassed. “got held up.”
the man at the front waved him in with the patience of someone who had seen this before. “ah, there he is. steve, you’re with the leafies.”
steve.
the name suited him in a way that was irritating.
he crossed the room with easy confidence, though there was still a lingering edge of breathlessness around him. he looked around the room, took in the crowd, and then his eyes landed on you.
for a second, something in his face shifted. just a small flicker of curiosity, maybe confusion.
when the leafies were finally announced as the team that apparently always lost the trial at the end of camp, steve let out a low sound of disbelief.
“you’re kidding” he said.
“they’re a spirited group.”
“spirited?” steve repeated.
“well,” the man said, “they’ve got heart.”
the meeting dragged on after that, full of instructions and schedules and rules and warnings about the lake, the trails, the snack shed, the canoes and the importance of not leaving children unattended near anything remotely fun. you half listened, half watched steve across the room when you could get away with it.
he wasn't paying attention in the way the others were. he looked like he was trying, which somehow made him more interesting than the ones who were pretending to know exactly what they were doing. every so often he would lean down and scribble something on the paper in front of him, then glance up again with that same observant look. when he noticed you looking, he lifted his brows slightly, like he’d caught you stealing a glance.
you looked away so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.
by the time the meeting ended, the room had broken into that noisy, confused shuffle of people collecting notebooks and standing up too quickly.
you gathered your things and headed toward the door, already preparing yourself for whatever disaster would be your cabin assignment.
“hey.”
the voice came from close behind you, easy and casual and just loud enough to stop you.
you turned.
steve had caught up with you in the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder, one hand shoved into his pocket. up close, he looked even more annoyingly put together in the not-quite-put-together way that seemed effortless. there was a little flush still in his cheeks and his expression had shifted from mildly annoyed to something like curiosity.
“yeah?” you asked.
“you’re on leafies too, right?”
you lifted your chin. “tragically.”
that got a real smile out of him.
“cool,” he said. “so we’re both doomed.”
“seems that way.”
he held out his hand. “steve.”
you looked at it for a second before taking it. his hand was warm, his grip firm, and there was something disarmingly normal about it, like he wasn’t trying too hard to be impressive or charming or anything at all. he just was.
you told him your name.
he repeated it, like he was trying it out. “okay, cool. nice to meet you, officially.”
“nice to meet you too.”
he glanced toward the rest of the staff dispersing, then back at you. “so, i’m guessing you heard the part where our team is the camp equivalent of a bad omen?”
“i did.”
“excellent.”
“excellent?”
“i like being warned in advance,” he said. “means i know what i’m working with.”
you snorted. “what exactly are you working with?”
he looked at you for a beat, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “a team called the leafies.”
that got another laugh out of you, softer this time, and the sound seemed to settle something in the air between you. the weirdness of the day didn’t disappear, not by any stretch, but it shifted.
you walked out of the hut together, shoulder to shoulder in the warm late afternoon light and the camp spread out around you in all directions.
kids ran past with water bottles and whistles and little canvas bags. somebody called for a canoe to be brought down to the lake. somewhere a hammer was hitting wood, and somewhere else music drifted faintly from an open cabin window.
steve shoved his hands in his pockets and looked over at you. “so, what do you think?”
“about what?”
“about this whole place.”
you looked around before answering. “it’s aggressively wholesome.”
“right?”
“one inspirational speech away from becoming a cult.”
he laughed, proper this time and the sound made you glance at him again before you could help it.
“i mean,” he said, “i was gonna say rustic.”
“rustic is a nicer word for it.”
“leafies” he said again, shaking his head. “what kind of name is that?”
“the kind that loses.”
“yeah, well,” he said, with mock solemnity, “we’re gonna change that.”
you tilted your head. “are we?”
“absolutely.”
you studied him for a second, taking in the way he talked like he'd already decided the summer wasn’t going to beat him. he looked like the sort of person who could walk into a room and make it feel a little less hostile simply by existing in it.
“you’re very optimistic for someone who arrived late and is assigned to a cursed team” you said.
he shrugged. “what can i say? i like a challenge.”
“sounds suspicious.”
he laughed again, and this time there was a tiny pause afterward, just enough for the two of you to register that you were both standing there smiling at each other like idiots in the middle of camp.
then he cleared his throat, very slightly embarrassed, and said, “our cabins are opposite each other.”
you blinked. “how do you know that?”
he pointed vaguely over his shoulder. “i saw the assignment board.”
you stared in the direction he had indicated, and sure enough, after a moment of squinting through the crowd and the bright afternoon glare, you could make out the line of cabins stretching along the path. your own cabin stood at one side of the clearing, and opposite it, was steve’s.
“of course they are” you murmured.
“well,” he said, with a grin, “guess we’re neighbours.”
the sound of dinner being called from somewhere near the hall pulled the camp into motion around you. staff began herding children toward lines, counsellors started shouting names, the whole place buzzed with movement charged energy of summer.
steve stepped back just enough to gesture toward your cabin path. “guess this is where we split up.”
you nodded.
neither of you moved for a second then he said, “see you around, leafy.”
“don’t call me that.”
“too late.”
you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling when you turned around, and you knew he had seen it.
the trees overhead were still too green, the air still too warm, and the camp was still camp nowhere, but now there was something else in the mix too.
a boy with a crooked smile and the unnerving habit of making your irritation disappear.
you stepped into your cabin, dropped your bag onto one of the bunks, and stood there in the dim wooden quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of the camp outside.
then, slowly, you smiled to yourself.
because maybe your parents had been wrong about a lot of things. maybe they had no idea how much you would hate being here at first, maybe they had been annoying, and unforgivably smug.
but maybe, just maybe, they had accidentally done one thing right.
because if fate and the stars and whatever stupid summer magic camp nowhere had tucked between the trees were feeling generous, then this could be the kind of summer that changed things.
and if steve harrington was as charming as he seemed, and not some secret asshole hidden under that easy grin, then maybe this whole disaster might turn out to be something else entirely.
-
when you finally got into bed that night, changed and exhausted, listening to the low murmur of the camp settling around you, you turned onto your side and stared out through the cabin window at the darkening trees.
somewhere across the path, steve was in his own cabin, probably doing the exact same thing. though you had no way of knowing that yet, the thought was enough to make the edge of your mouth lift again.
you fell asleep with that thought still warm in your chest, and for the first time since your parents had sat you down at the table, you did not feel entirely trapped.
only curious, only a little hopeful.
-
the first morning started way too early.
you woke up to sunlight cutting through the thin cabin curtains directly onto your face and the sound of somebody outside blowing a whistle. for a few seconds you forgot where you were completely, still half asleep enough to think you were at home.
then you looked up at the wooden ceiling. camp, right.
you groaned quietly and pulled the blanket over your face for another minute before finally forcing yourself up. outside your cabin window the camp was already alive. kids running around in oversized shirts, counsellors carrying boxes and clipboards, somebody laughing loud enough to echo through the trees.
you changed into your leafy team shirt with deep reluctance.
the dark green honestly was not terrible, the name still was though.
when you stepped outside with your shoelaces half tied, the morning air hit you all at once. warm already, but still carrying that coolness from the night before. the lake nearby reflected sunlight through the trees and somewhere off in the distance music was playing quietly from a radio.
and then there was steve, sitting on the steps outside his cabin with a coffee.
he looked up when he heard your door shut.
“wow,” he said immediately. “you look thrilled to be alive.”
you squinted at him. “i was until i heard that whistle.”
he stood up, stretching slightly before walking over toward you. his hair was still messy from sleep, and somehow that combined with the stupid green shirt made him look unfairly good this early in the morning.
“ready for bonding day?” he asked.
“sounds threatening.”
“apparently we’re building something in the woods.”
“sounds more threatening.”
“i heard one of the counsellors say teamwork exercise,” he added, lowering his voice dramatically. “so i think we should prepare for the worst.”
“knew this place was a cult.”
he grinned at that, and before you could say anything else a group of kids came barreling across the clearing toward you both.
your group.
the leafies.
all six of them looked half awake and overly excited at the same time, talking over each other before they’d even reached you.
“are we really going in the woods?”
“do we get tools?”
“sam said we’re building houses-”
“can i climb stuff?”
“i saw a frog earlier.”
“what if there’s bears?”
steve blinked slowly at the chaos before glancing sideways at you. “maybe we should’ve prepared more.”
you snorted.
but honestly?
the kids were kind of great.
there was maya, who talked so fast she practically tripped over her own words. adam, who seemed determined to touch every single thing he passed. twins called rosie and molly who argued every thirty seconds but got defensive if anyone else did. liam, who had decided steve was the coolest person alive within five minutes. and noah, quieter than the others but weirdly hilarious whenever he actually spoke.
by the time breakfast ended and all the groups were led out toward the forest trails, you already liked them more than you expected to.
the challenge itself sounded simple enough. each team had to build a shelter using only things they found in the woods. sticks, leaves, branches, whatever.
strongest structure won.
“this,” steve announced once your group reached your section of forest, “is where the leafies begin their comeback story.”
“okay,” you said, clapping your hands together once. “new rule. we’re not losing.”
“exactly,” steve said, pointing at you, “that’s the energy we need.”
“what's our team called again?” maya asked.
“leafy team!” adam yelled proudly. steve failed to hide his bitter look.
somehow, though, once everybody started actually working, it became fun quicker than either of you expected.
the kids took the assignment incredibly seriously.
within minutes they were running around the forest searching for sticks like their lives depended on it. rosie and molly dragged over branches twice their size while arguing about direction. liam kept bringing steve the most useless tiny twigs imaginable. maya was determined to decorate the shelter instead of structurally support it.
“we need cuteness” she insisted.
“we need walls” you told her.
“same thing.”
at one point noah quietly pointed up toward a thick branch stuck high in a tree and said, “that one would be good.”
steve looked up at it, then at all the kids staring expectantly at him.
“absolutely not.”
“come on” you said immediately.
“no.”
“steve” maya whined, already dragging him toward it.
five minutes later he was halfway up the tree muttering complaints under his breath while all of you stood below giving wildly unhelpful advice.
“a little left!”
“your other left!”
“don’t fall!”
“i hate all of you” he called down.
“you love us” you shouted back.
he looked down at you then, sunlight catching through the leaves around him, and there was this quick crooked grin on his face before he snapped the branch free.
“yeah,” he said. “you wish”
by the middle of the afternoon all of you were sweaty, covered in dirt, and weirdly invested in a stick house.
it looked good. really good, actually.
somehow, between all eight of you, the thing had become a proper little den tucked between trees.
“this is sick” liam breathed.
the camp leaders came around checking everyone’s shelters near the end, and when they reached yours, both of them looked genuinely impressed.
“leafies” one of them said, sounding surprised.
steve put a hand over his chest. “your faith in us is inspiring.”
you elbowed him lightly while the kids giggled.
before leaving that morning, each group had been handed a disposable camera. apparently every team got one for the summer, with enough film to document basically everything.
“first photo” maya declared suddenly.
all six kids immediately started yelling over each other about where to stand.
eventually all of you squeezed into the shelter together, knees shoved awkwardly against branches and shoulders pressed together because there really was not enough room for eight people.
“everyone fit?” steve asked, holding the camera out awkwardly.
“no,” you laughed. “your arm is in my face.”
“tragedy.”
“move.”
the kids were already laughing before the photo was even taken.
steve finally clicked the button while half leaning backward out of the den, and the flash went off at completely the wrong angle.
“that is definitely blurry” you said.
“adds character” he argued.
“sure.”
still, when the photo developed eventually, you knew it would probably end up being one of your favourites.
all of you crammed together under that badly made roof. smiling too wide. steve barely in frame because he’d taken it himself.
it felt like the start of something.
the walk back to camp afterward was loud and chaotic in the best way. the kids were all talking over each other again, replaying every part of the day.
“we’re definitely winning” adam announced confidently.
“obviously” steve agreed.
you looked over at him. “we should probably stop promising things.”
“why?”
“because what if we lose?”
he looked offended by the suggestion. “have some faith in the leafies.”
you laughed.
and weirdly enough, you did.
over the next few days, things settled into a rhythm.
you woke up early. complained about it with steve. spent the day chasing kids around activities while somehow getting way too competitive yourselves.
the leafies became known very quickly for trying way too hard at absolutely everything.
rock climbing day turned into a full team mission to reach the highest point possible. even the kids who were scared ended up cheering everybody else on from below while you and steve yelled encouragement from the ground.
fire building day became weirdly intense.
“ours has to be the best one” steve said seriously.
“you say that like there’s prize money.”
“there should be.”
you spent nearly an hour trying to keep your fire alive while smoke got in everybody’s eyes and the kids kept dramatically coughing like they were dying.
“i can’t see” rosie complained.
“that’s cause you’re standing in the smoke” you told her.
“whose fault is that?”
“probably steve’s.”
“hey.”
somehow, despite all of it, your fire ended up being the strongest one there.
archery day nearly destroyed all of your confidence.
none of the kids could hit the bullseye.
you couldn’t either.
neither could steve, despite loudly claiming at the start that it was “probably easy.”
“this thing is rigged” he muttered after missing again.
the kids had started making fun of you both by the end of the session.
“i thought counsellors were meant to be good at stuff” noah said.
“that’s actually a really hurtful stereotype” steve replied.
you were crying laughing by the time your final turns came around.
“okay,” steve said, pointing at the target. “bullseye before we leave. that’s the mission.”
“that was not the mission.”
“it is now.”
everyone went quiet when you pulled the arrow back.
you honestly did not expect it to happen. but then the arrow flew and hit dead centre.
for a second nobody reacted then suddenly all seven of them were screaming.
the kids launched themselves at you immediately while you stood there laughing in complete shock, and somehow steve ended up grabbing your shoulders at the same time while yelling, “no way! no way!”
“i did that!” you shouted.
“you actually did!”
“holy shit-”
“language” he said automatically.
“oh, now you care?”
everyone was practically jumping on top of each other and the camp instructor looked deeply exhausted by all of you.
you did not stop smiling for the next hour.
-
lake days became your favourite, mostly because everybody relaxed more there.
the kids loved swimming, even if half of them were terrible at it, and steve apparently had taken some lifeguarding class back in high school which transformed him into the bossiest person alive near water.
“no running!”
“you literally just ran” you pointed out.
“that was different.”
“how?”
“i’m trained.”
canoeing somehow became even worse. or better, depending on perspective.
you and steve got paired together every time because the kids insisted it was funniest that way.
they were right.
you flipped the canoe over so many times it became embarrassing.
“lean left!” steve shouted.
“i am leaning left!”
“your other left!”
“don’t start this again-”
seconds later both of you were underwater.
the kids were screaming laughing from nearby canoes while you surfaced spluttering.
“we’re actually worse than them” you gasped.
steve pushed wet hair out of his face, laughing hard enough to barely breathe. “yeah, this is humiliating.”
afterward, though, while helping teach the younger kids how to tread water properly or swim stronger laps across the shallow end, things always slowed down a little.
you learned things from steve during those quieter moments.
how to float properly without panicking, how to spot when one of the kids was getting overwhelmed before they actually said anything.
and outside of activities, usually late at night sitting on cabin steps after everybody else had settled down, you learned other things too.
about his parents never really being home. about his dad sending him here after a terrible report card and acting like camp would somehow “fix” him. about the way he shrugged things off when they probably bothered him more than he let people see.
and he learned about you too.
about your parents springing camp on you out of nowhere. about your music. your favourite songs. the stupid things you wanted to do after school even if you had no idea how to get there yet.
somehow conversations with steve became easy before you even noticed it happening.
you stopped thinking before speaking around him.
he started showing up beside you automatically during meals or activities like it was instinct.
the kids noticed too.
especially maya, maya noticed everything.
“you guys act married” she informed you both one afternoon.
you nearly choked on your drink.
steve looked horrified. “we absolutely do not.”
“you bicker like my parents.”
“not helping.”
the kids all started agreeing loudly while you covered your face in embarrassment. but secretly? you didn’t mind it. because somewhere along the way, between the lake and the woods and the late night conversations and the terrible team name, you had stopped caring so much about proving people wrong.
the whole plan to turn the leafies into camp champions slowly faded into the background.
not because you stopped trying but because suddenly the important part was this. the kids. the laughter. steve sitting too close beside you at campfires.
all eight of you ending every day exhausted and smiling anyway.
you didn’t notice the camp leaders watching your group more carefully than the others, didn’t notice the little smiles they exchanged whenever your team passed by.
because while some counsellors treated the camp like a competition or free babysitting or something to survive until summer ended, you and steve cared.
genuinely.
about the kids, about the team, about making every day fun for them and maybe, without fully realising it yet, about each other too.
-
the weeks kept going after that, somehow getting better instead of repetitive.
which honestly felt unfair.
you had expected camp to become one long blur eventually. same cabins, same trails, same activities over and over until you were desperate to go home. but instead every day somehow ended up feeling different. mostly because of the kids. and because of steve.
you learned very quickly that while your team was weirdly good at physical activities, teamwork and making disasters fun, there were two things all eight of you absolutely sucked at.
hiking and orienteering.
the second the camp leaders handed steve a map and compass, you knew it was over.
“okay,” he said, staring at the paper like it had personally insulted him. “why does this look like ancient scripture?”
“that’s a normal map.”
“there are too many lines.”
you laughed while the kids immediately crowded around him trying to help in the least helpful ways possible.
“i think we go left.”
“what’s north?”
within twenty minutes all of you were lost.
not deeply lost but definitely not where you were meant to be. the trail kept splitting off into smaller paths, the compass never seemed to agree with the map, and steve was getting increasingly dramatic about the whole thing.
“this thing is broken” he said for the fourth time, aggressively shaking the compass.
“i don’t think that helps.”
you were crying laughing by that point while the kids ran ahead collecting leaves and shouting every time they found anything remotely interesting.
part of the hike involved an animal checklist booklet each team had been given. the goal was to tick off every creature you spotted during the walk.
birds, squirrels, frogs, deer. stuff like that.
rosie had claimed responsibility for carrying the booklet almost immediately, holding onto it like it was state property.
at first the kids took it seriously.
“red squirrel!” maya yelled at one point.
“that’s a branch.”
“oh.”
but somewhere around hour two, after getting lost for what felt like the fifth time and finding absolutely none of the animals they needed, the whole thing slowly dissolved into nonsense.
it started with noah pointing at a weird shaped tree root and saying it looked like a “mud goblin.”
rosie immediately wrote it down in the back pages of the booklet.
after that, it became a game.
one of the kids would point at something random or badly imitate an animal and everybody else would invent names for it.
twig rat, swamp horse, wet pigeon beast. none of them made sense, the spellings somehow made even less sense.
rosie wrote every single one down in messy handwriting while laughing so hard she could barely hold the pencil straight.
you and steve tried very hard to stay out of it.
-
arts and crafts days became another unexpected favourite.
technically those days were mostly for the kids, but steve always somehow managed to get extra supplies for the two of you.
he shoved a marker toward you. “draw me”
“absolutely not.”
“coward.”
eventually you did. badly, very badly. you drew his hair too big on purpose and his jaw weirdly square and somehow made one eye slightly higher than the other.
when you slid the paper toward him, steve stared at it for a full five seconds.
“wow,” he said quietly. “you really captured how exhausted i look.”
you laughed so hard you had to put your head down on the table.
“hold on,” he said. “my turn.”
his drawing of you somehow looked both nothing like you and exactly like you at the same time. the proportions were terrible. the nose was questionable at best. but the smile looked real enough that your stomach weirdly flipped when you looked at it.
you looked up at him then, he was already looking at you, and for a second neither of you laughed.
the kids yelling nearby snapped the moment apart before it could become anything else, but after that things between you shifted again.
subtly at first, small things. his hand brushing yours more often, the way he’d lean closer when talking to you, the way he always looked for you first in a crowd. the teasing changed too, less just joking more.. something else.
“you missed me?” he asked one evening after you’d spent half the day separated during activities.
“desperately” you said flatly.
he grinned. “good.”
and the annoying thing was, he probably knew you meant it a little.
you tried not to think about it too hard because you really liked him now.
you liked hearing about his day even if you’d been there for most of it. liked the way he made the kids laugh. liked how patient he was when one of them got upset. liked the way he’d quietly check if you were okay whenever camp got overwhelming.
and sometimes you’d catch him already looking at you before you even said anything, like he was thinking too much too.
you just didn’t know if it meant the same thing.
until the shed.
every friday night, two counsellors got assigned clean-up duty for the activity shed, which sounded simple enough until you actually saw the shed. it was chaos. boxes half open, board games missing pieces, paint supplies everywhere, footballs shoved into corners, friendship bracelet string tangled around literally everything.
the sun had mostly gone down outside by then, leaving the shed lit in soft yellow light from the flickering bulb overhead. the door barely shut properly, warm night air drifting through the gap every few minutes along with distant campfire sounds from deeper in camp.
the two of you sat on the floor sorting through boxes while talking about absolutely nothing important.
you were halfway through telling him about some weird noise you’d heard outside your cabin the night before.
“i swear it sounded human at first,” you said, sitting cross legged while untangling skipping ropes. “like genuinely terrifying, then i looked outside and it was just two raccoons fighting near the bins.”
steve snorted from beside you, you shook your head, still smiling slightly while reaching for another box.
“and then this morning maya tried convincing everyone raccoons are technically burglars-”
you stopped mid sentence. because steve was looking at you. not casually, not distractedly, really looking at you.
his arms rested loosely over his knees, expression softer than usual somehow. quieter. like he’d drifted away from the conversation completely and was just focused on you instead.
your stomach flipped.
“what?” you asked softly.
for a second he didn’t answer then he moved before you could think too hard about it.
the kiss caught you completely off guard. warm and quick and careful all at once. your brain stopped working for a second because steve was kissing you. steve.
and maybe because you froze in shock, or maybe because he thought he’d completely misread everything, he pulled back almost immediately.
“shit” he said quietly.
you blinked at him.
“sorry. i’m sorry, i don’t know why i just-”
he was already shaking his head at himself, embarrassed flushing across his face.
“forget it. that was stupid, i just thought maybe-”
you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back toward you before he could finish.
his surprise lasted about half a second before he kissed you again. properly this time, slower. his hand came instinctively to your waist while yours stayed twisted lightly in his shirt, and suddenly every stupid little moment from the past few weeks made sense all at once.
you could feel him smiling slightly into the kiss after a second, like he still couldn’t fully believe this was happening either.
“okay” he mumbled quietly against your mouth.
you laughed softly. “okay?”
“just checking i didn’t imagine that.”
“you definitely didn’t.”
he kissed you again after that. still careful, still smiling. it never got too heated, mostly because you were sitting in a poorly built shed with a door that barely worked and children definitely still awake somewhere nearby, but honestly that almost made it better.
when you finally pulled apart properly, both of you were still grinning like idiots.
steve leaned back against one of the shelves, rubbing a hand over his face. “wow.”
“wow?” you repeated.
“shut up.”
you laughed again, unable to stop smiling yourself.
“you have no idea,” he said, looking at you again, “how long i’ve wanted to do that.”
your heart did something deeply embarrassing.
“really?”
“really.”
you ducked your head slightly, smiling to yourself.
“good,” you admitted quietly. “because i wanted you to.”
after that, things changed.
stolen kisses when nobody was looking. quick ones behind cabins, soft ones during late-night clean ups, sometimes just his hand brushing yours secretly under tables during staff meetings.
you kept it quiet mostly because neither of you knew if counsellors dating was technically allowed and honestly it felt smarter not to ask questions you probably didn’t want answers to.
especially at a children’s summer camp.
but keeping it secret almost made it sweeter somehow.
because it wasn’t just kissing, it was everything else too. the talking, the late nights, letting each other in properly. you and steve started sitting outside each other’s cabins after the kids went to sleep, talking quietly until ridiculous hours of the night.
about what happened after camp. about real life about how weird it was that you actually didn’t live that far apart.
“you should come visit” steve said one night without hesitation.
you looked over at him. “yeah?”
“obviously.”
“what if i hate you outside camp?”
he grinned. “not possible.”
you nudged his shoulder lightly with yours.
“you should visit me too” you said after a second.
“i will.”
and the thing was, you believed him immediately.
the leafies stayed close through all of it.
your team never really lost that feeling from the first week. the easy closeness, the way everybody genuinely wanted to be there together.
even when you did badly at activities, it never actually felt bad because every disaster somehow became funny instead. every failure turned into another story, another joke, another thing all eight of you would laugh about later.
and through all of it, unnoticed by you and steve completely, the camp leaders kept watching your group with quiet smiles.
because the leafies had stopped being the losing team. not because they were suddenly the best at every activity but because they’d become the team everybody else wanted to be around.
the kids were happier, more confident, and every time the leaders looked over at your group, they saw the same thing:
you and steve right in the middle of it all.
completely unaware of how obvious it was that you cared about every second of this summer.
-
it was that same kind of quiet bliss all the way through to the end of summer.
camp started feeling like a place you just existed in, like it had always been part of your life in some weird way you couldn’t explain.
the days stopped dragging and started disappearing instead. one moment you were laughing around a campfire, the next you were waking up again with dirt on your shoes and the smell of lake water still in your hair.
the leafies never really got better at canoeing.
you and steve especially were still, objectively, a disaster on water.
“i’m telling you, it hates us” steve said for what felt like the hundredth time as the canoe tipped slightly to one side.
“it’s a canoe,” you said, gripping the edge. “it doesn’t have opinions.”
“this one does.”
you flipped over again about thirty seconds later.
none of you ever trusted the compass either.
it became more of a symbolic object than a useful one, passed around occasionally and immediately ignored.
but everything else worked.
slowly, without anyone really planning it, the leafies got good at things.
rock climbing became something you all actually looked forward to. fire building turned into a competition you somehow always won. hiking stopped being 'getting lost' and became manageable. and even the quieter kids started speaking up more, like they finally believed someone would actually listen.
it flew by in that strange way good summers do, where every day feels long while you’re in it but impossible to separate afterwards.
until suddenly it was the last week.
and that hit harder than you expected.
you didn’t really say it out loud, not properly, but steve knew. you could tell he felt it too in the way he lingered a little longer after activities, in the way he watched the kids more when they weren’t looking.
so you both did what you always did.
you didn’t talk about it too much you just made the week count.
meals turned into louder, messier versions of what they’d been before. long tables full of shouting and laughter and people stealing food off each other’s plates. activities stopped being about winning anything and became about how ridiculous you could make them before the instructors gave up correcting you.
and at night, it was just you and steve again.
running around camp like you owned it.
once, late enough that most of the cabins were already dark, you both snuck down to the lake.
it was absolutely not allowed.
“if we get caught,” steve whispered, pulling off his shoes, “i’m blaming you.”
“you’re the one who suggested it.”
“yeah, but you agreed.”
the water was cold when you got in, colder than you expected, but neither of you got out. just floated there for a while, half laughing, half shivering, staring up at the sky like there was nowhere else you needed to be.
“this is definitely how we die in a horror movie” you said.
“we’re too good to die in a horror movie” steve replied.
when the final games day arrived, there wasn’t really nervousness anymore just excitement and this strange, steady feeling that whatever happened, it wasn’t going to matter in the way you used to think it would.
but still, you all wanted to win. not because of the score because it felt right to end it that way.
from the moment it started, the leafies were loud.
every time one of your kids stepped up for a challenge, all of you cheered like they’d just done something impossible. even when they were struggling, especially when they were struggling, you and steve were there at the edge of every activity shouting encouragement like it was the most important thing in the world.
“you’ve got this, adam!”
“rosie, that was amazing!”
“noah, that was strategic and i respect it!”
steve was worse than you in the best way.
he treated every small win like it deserved a celebration and the kids absolutely fed off it.
by the time the counsellor vs counsellor game rolled around, the energy was unhinged.
it was something simple. competitive relay-style nonsense that nobody was taking seriously except everyone was taking seriously.
you and steve won by a narrow margin. barely. but it didn’t matter at all because the second it ended, you were already laughing, breathless, turning straight into him without thinking.
“we did it” steve said, grinning like an idiot.
“we barely did it” you corrected.
“still counts.”
and then the kids were running down toward you both, shouting, piling into the moment like it belonged entirely to them. you didn’t even get to finish talking before you were all in a messy group hug that nearly knocked you over.
steve’s arm ended up around your shoulders without hesitation, yours stayed around his waist. neither of you really clocked it, it just felt normal.
by the end of the day, after everything had been played and cheered and exhausted into the ground, everyone sat together for the final announcement.
the main camp leader, mark, stood at the front with a clipboard and that tired but fond expression he always had at the end of busy days.
“this has been,” he said, looking around, “a genuinely brilliant summer. every team has brought something special to camp nowhere this year.”
there were cheers and tired laughter across the room.
you sat with steve and the kids squeezed in around you, all of you leaning into each other in different ways, listening without really thinking about it.
your fingers were loosely linked with his without either of you noticing.
mark kept talking.
“but there’s one team that really stood out.”
the room quieted slightly.
“their teamwork, their attitude, and the way they looked after each other… it’s exactly what this camp is supposed to be about.”
you felt steve glance at you, you glanced back.
neither of you said anything.
“their counsellors,” mark continued, “started off the least enthusiastic pair we had in the first meeting.”
a ripple of laughter went through the room.
you snorted softly.
“but they ended up being some of the most involved, most caring, and most consistent leaders we’ve had in years.”
steve’s thumb brushed lightly against your hand.
you didn’t look down.
“and,” mark said, smiling now, “they’ve won camp nowhere. well done leafies.”
for a second, there was silence then the room exploded.
the leafies all jumped up at once. you and steve followed a second later, completely swept into the chaos, laughing as the kids basically tackled you both in celebration.
“we won!” maya screamed.
“we actually won!” liam shouted.
steve grabbed your hand properly this time without thinking and pulled you into him as everyone shouted around you.
you were both laughing too hard to breathe properly.
later, after the chaos had settled and medals had been handed out and mark had made some speech about pride and effort and whatever else leaders say at the end of things like this, he pulled you and steve aside.
“just so you know,” he said, lowering his voice slightly, “if you two ever want to come back next summer… we’d happily have you back as a team for the leafies”
steve blinked. “seriously?”
mark smiled. “seriously.”
you looked at steve, then back at mark and somehow that felt like a bigger moment than the medals.
after that came ice cream, because of course it did, and more celebrating, and the strange slow realisation that it was actually ending.
the final night hit differently. not loud like the rest just soft, like camp holding its breath.
steve ended up in your cabin that night without either of you really discussing it. there was no big moment, it just happened the way everything important between you had started happening lately.
you didn’t do anything dramatic, you just lay there together, tangled up under the blankets, talking quietly until you both drifted off.
his hand stayed in yours until you fell asleep.
the next morning came too fast.
you helped each other pack in between moments of pretending it wasn’t real. folding clothes. checking under beds. finding random lost things that belonged to the kids and setting them aside.
then came the goodbyes.
the kids were loud about it, as expected. too many hugs. too many “don’t forget us”s that felt completely unnecessary because there was no chance you were going to.
parents arrived one by one, and every time one of them saw you and steve with their kid, they had that same expression. the one that said they’d clearly noticed something had happened over the summer, even if they didn’t know exactly what.
stories were already being told before you’d even finished saying goodbye properly.
“they made the best fire!”
“we won games day!”
“they were the coolest counsellors!”
steve looked at you once like he didn’t know what to do with that, you just smiled.
at the end, when most of the camp had already started to empty out, steve pulled out the disposable camera.
still not developed.
“keep it?” he asked.
you nodded. “yeah.”
he hesitated, then shook his head. “actually… no. i want you to get it developed. and send me the pictures.”
“or,” you said, “you could just come get them.”
that made him smile immediately.
“yeah?” he asked.
“yeah.”
he stepped closer then, just for a second, and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. then your cabin door opened behind you both and reality caught up again.
you said goodbye properly a few minutes later. too many pauses, too many half sentences. steve handed you a folded piece of paper with his number on it, you put it in your bag carefully like it mattered more than it should.
“call me tonight” he said.
“i will.”
“you better.”
“or what?”
he smiled. “i’ll come find you.”
“dramatic.”
he started to look like he might overthink it, so you grabbed the pen from his hand, pulled up his sleeve, and wrote your number on his arm instead.
“just in case” you said.
he looked down at it like it was something important then back at you. and for a second neither of you moved.
then he kissed you once more before you had to leave, like a promise that didn’t need words.
when you finally got into the car, your parents already knew, they didn’t even have to ask. your mom just smiled a little as you looked out the window.
“good summer?” she asked.
you didn’t answer immediately, then you glanced back at camp disappearing behind the trees.
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?”
Synopsis: You were born with a silver, no, gold spoon in your mouth. The typical American girl, a city girl from the D.C. area, until your father received a tip-off on suspicious activity in the quiet town of Hawkins, Indiana. Despite the move, you’re still arguably the most popular girl, captain of the volleyball team, excellent grades, dozens of friends, everything. You were also a babysitter of a young Will Byers and his friends until a simple ride back home to the Byers residence ends up going upside down, literally. HEAVILY FOLLOWS MAIN STORY PLOT/SCRIPT!
Pairings: Steve Harrington x popular!reader (main, enemies to friends to lovers) + others ish (Nancy [frenemies], some Jonathan, some Eddie in s4 and Billy in s2)
Notes: I'M NOT GONNA LIE READER IS SO MESSY LOL. reader is lowkey a spoiled brat like to a tee as well as snarky. Every chapter is one episode of the series. this is kinda like a revamped Pride and Prejudice if you will
READ ON AO3 OR chapters are below!
TAGLIST (join to be tagged for updates !)
⭑.ᐟ TAPE 1
ᯓ★ The Vanishing of Will Byers
ᯓ★ The Weirdo on Maple Street
ᯓ★ Holly Jolly
ᯓ★ The Body
ᯓ★ The Flea and the Acrobat
ᯓ★ The Monster
ᯓ★ The Bathtub
ᯓ★ The Upside Down
⭑.ᐟ TAPE 2
ᯓ★ MADMAX
ᯓ★ Trick or Treat, Freak
ᯓ★ The Pollywog
ᯓ★ Will the Wise
ᯓ★ Dig Dug
ᯓ★ The Spy [smut warning]
ᯓ★ The Lost Sister [skipped]
ᯓ★ The Mind Flayer
ᯓ★ The Gate
⭑.ᐟ TAPE 3
ᯓ★ Suzie, Do You Copy?
ᯓ★ The Mall Rats
ᯓ★ The Case of the Missing Lifeguard
ᯓ★ The Sauna Test
ᯓ★ The Flayed
ᯓ★ E Pluribus Unum
ᯓ★ The Bite
ᯓ★ The Battle of Starcourt
⭑.ᐟ TAPE 4
ᯓ★ The Hellfire Club
ᯓ★ Vecna's Curse
ᯓ★ The Monster and the Superhero
ᯓ★ Dear Billy
ᯓ★ The Nina Project
ᯓ★ The Dive
ᯓ★ The Massacre at Hawkins Lab
ᯓ★ The Piggyback
⭑.ᐟ TAPE 5: SIDE 1
ᯓ★ The Crawl
like this? visits @s-stelarisstar to read BLOOD TIES, another steve fic that is heavily focused in s4 and is much quicker.
the thing we grow into - rewrite series masterlist
steve harrington x fem!reader
status: COMPLETED
summary: you have been jonathan byers’ closest friend since childhood, making the byers family feel like your own. when will disappears, you are pulled into the growing mystery surrounding hawkins, determined to help find him no matter the cost. The last person you expect to rely on is steve harrington — the same boy you've spent years resenting for how he treated jonathan. but as the dangers facing hawkins grow and loyalties begin to shift, hatred slowly gives way to understanding, and something far more complicated begins to form between them.
warnings: slow slow slow burn, 'strangers' to enemies to lovers, potential smut much further down the track, cursing, average stranger things violence, angst (will add more warnings when necessary)
note: I have been reading @snoopyracing and @angelicblondie 's series that follow along with the entire stranger things plot lines and have become OBSESSED with their work, to the point where I would like to give it a go myself. so I am rewriting a reader insert into the entirety of stranger things plot! big shout out to both of them and everyone who has done this. I hope I do it justice and you all enjoy <3 and message me if you’d like to be added to the taglist
| DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE. reblogs are fine and appreciated! |
DISCLAIMER: in this story y/n is described as female, however it is up to you what she looks like!
after hawkins, indiana experiences the tragedy of will byers going missing, y/n hopper discovers that there is more to her life than grades and cigarette smoke. there's things she can't escape. things like secret labs, monsters, portals to other dimensions, and worst of all, her best friends boyfriend, steve harrington.
this is a slow burn fan fic that goes throughout all seasons of stranger things. steve and reader do get together eventually, i promise!
you’ll be able to see what season im currently working on/have finished by if the episode titles are there or not for that season!
my masterlist
SEASON ONE:
the vanishing of will byers
the weirdo on maple street
holly, jolly
the body
the flea and the acrobat
the monster
the bathtub
the upside down
SEASON TWO:
madmax
trick or treat, freak
the pollywog
will the wise
dig dug
the spy
the lost sister
the mind flayer
the gate
SEASON THREE:
suzie, do you copy?
the mall rats
the case of the missing lifeguard
the sauna test
the flayed
e pluribus unum
the bite
the battle of starcourt
SEASON FOUR:
the hellfire club
vecna's curse
the monster and the superhero
dear billy
the nina project
the dive
the massacre at hawkins lab
papa
the piggyback
⋆˚✿˖°summary: all you wanted was to study for your biology exam tomorrow, but what happens when you hear a knock on your window? or the one where your boyfriend steve helps you to study for your upcoming exam in a very interesting way.
⋆˚✿˖° word count: 2.5k
⋆˚✿˖° warnings: porn with a very little plot, fluff, my attempt at writing very poor biology stuff while being a mechanical engineer, fingering, p in v (wrap it up hoes), riding, sneaking in. yeah that's pretty much it.
⋆˚✿˖° Author's Note: credits to @angeliicide for this beautiful divider <33. this is loosely inspired by that one S1 scene where sneaks into Nancy's room through her window and my favourite childhood movie.
The moon hung fat and silver over Hawkins,long shadows from the oak tree stretching across the grass. It was past midnight as the moonlight grazed over the pile of textbooks and scattered notes on your desk. You were neck-deep in biology, highlighter in hand, trying to memorize for tomorrow's exam. Your hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and you'd changed into your comfiest oversized tee and shorts after school, the fabric soft against your skin from too many washes. You looked up from your textbook as you stared at the photo sticked loosely on the wall behind your bed.
Steve Harrington was your boyfriend-had been for almost a year now, ever since that rainy night at the arcade when he'd ditched his king-of-the-school act and shown up with scoops of ice cream and an apology for being such an idiot before. He wasn't perfect; the scars on his side from demodogs and his occasional overprotectiveness could grate on you. But God, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him in this weird little town made it all worth it. You'd fallen into this easy rhythm, stolen kisses in the Baemer's backseat, late-night drives to Lover's Lake, and him crashing at your place when his parents were fighting again. Tonight, though, you needed space. Or at least, that's what you'd told him when he called earlier, voice all soft and teasing over the line: "Study hard, babe. I'll behave."
You snorted to yourself, flipping a page. Behave. As if Steve Harrington knew the meaning of the word.
A soft thump against the windowpane jolted you from your notes. You glanced up, heart skipping in that half thrilled, half annoyed way. There he was, all tousled hair and that lopsided grin, balanced precariously on the branch of the old oak tree that hugged the side of your house. His polo was untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and those brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he tapped the glass again, mouthing open up.
With a dramatic eye-roll that he could probably see from ten feet away, you pushed back from your bed and crossed the room. The window creaked as you unlatched it, cool evening air rushing in along with the scent of his cologne-something woodsy and warm, mixed with the faint chlorine from the pool where he'd been lifeguarding all summer.
"Jesus, Steve," you whispered, helping him clamber through without toppling the whole setup. His hands found your waist immediately, steadying himself as his boots hit the carpet. "My mom's downstairs. What if she hears?"
He straightened up, all six-foot-something of him filling the space, and leaned in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "Then we'd better be quiet." His voice was low, playful, but there was that edge to it, as if he'd been thinking about you all day. You could feel it in the way his thumbs brushed circles against your hips, lingering just a second too long.
You swatted his chest lightly, stepping back toward your desk. "I'm serious. I've got this exam, and if I bomb it, my dad's gonna kill me. Biology waits for no horny boyfriend."
Steve chuckled, that deep, rumbling sound that always made your stomach flip. He ruffled his hair, glancing around your room like he was seeing it for the first time-the posters of The Police and Bowie on the walls, the half-dead plant on your nightstand that you'd sworn you'd revive someday. "Horny? Me? Nah, I'm just here to... moral support." But his eyes dipped to your legs, bare and crossed casually as you perched on the edge of your bed, and you knew better. He was already shifting his weight, that subtle tell where he'd rock forward on his toes when he wanted to close the distance.
"Uh-huh." You picked up your highlighter again, settling back at the desk and flipping open your textbook. "Sit. Behave. Or go home and jack off to your Sports Illustrated stash. Whatever works."
"Ouch." He clutched his heart, feigning offense, but he dropped onto the foot of your bed anyway, knees bumping the desk frame. For a minute, he was quiet, uncharacteristically so, watching you scribble notes, his fingers drumming a lazy rhythm on his thigh. You could feel his gaze, heavy and warm. It made focusing harder than it should have been; every time you glanced up, he'd flash that smile, the one with the dimples that promised trouble.
Minutes ticked by. The clock on your wall read 10:30 PM. Your mom called up faintly about dinner, and you yelled back that you'd eat later. Steve stayed silent, but you caught him out of the corner of your eye, stretching his arms behind his head, shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of tanned stomach. Asshole. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Finally, he sighed,long and exaggerated, like a puppy denied a walk. "Babe."
You didn't look up. "Study."
"Baaaabe." His voice dropped an octave, all whine and want. The bed creaked as he scooted closer, one hand landing warm on your knee under the desk. "You've been at this for hours. Take a break. With me."
Your pen paused mid-sentence. His touch was light, but it sent a spark up your leg, familiar heat pooling low in your belly. "Steve. We have an exam tomorrow. Remember?"
He hummed, thumb tracing lazy patterns on your skin, inching higher. "I remember. But I also remember how you aced that history test after I quizzed you in the car last month. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?"
You bit your lip, fighting a smile. He wasn't wrong; Steve had this way of turning everything into a game, making the mundane fun. But tonight? Your brain felt like mush, and his proximity was making it worse. "Fine. Quiz me. But hands to yourself, Harrington. Deal?"
His grin turned wolfish, eyes darkening as he leaned in, elbows on his knees. "Deal. Hit me with a question."
You cleared your throat, forcing your eyes back to the page. "Okay. What's the primary function of mitochondria?"
"Powerhouses of the cell. They make ATP through cellular respiration." He rattled it off like he'd been paying attention in class for once, which you knew was bullshit-he'd probably overheard you ranting about it last week.
"Show-off." You marked it off, but his hand hadn't moved from your knee. If anything, it slid higher, fingers splaying across your thigh. "Steve-"
"What? I'm helping." His tone was innocent, but the way he watched your reaction, waiting for that hitch in your breath, was anything but. You shifted in your chair, thighs pressing together instinctively. The room felt warmer, the air thicker.
"Fine. Next one." You tried to sound stern, flipping pages. "Describe the process of photosynthesis. In detail."
He launched into it-chloroplasts, light-dependent reactions, the Calvin cycle, like a pro, his voice steady and low. But all the while, his hand crept upward, fingertips brushing the hem of your shorts. You swallowed hard, highlighter trembling slightly. "Good. Uh... electron transport chain?"
"Starts in the inner mitochondrial membrane," he murmured, closer now, his breath ghosting your ear as he leaned over your shoulder. "Electrons from NADH and FADH2 pass through protein complexes, pumping protons to create a gradient..." His free hand braced on the desk, caging you in, while the other dipped beneath the fabric of your shorts, tracing the edge of your panties. Your breath caught, a soft gasp escaping before you could stop it.
"Steve," you warned, but it came out breathy, lacking conviction. Your body betrayed you, hips tilting just a fraction toward his touch.
He paused, fingers hovering, that teasing glint in his eye. "You stopped. What's next, baby? Glycolysis? Pyruvate decarboxylation?" His voice was velvet, rough around the edges, and when his fingers finally slipped under the cotton barrier, brushing lightly against your folds, you nearly dropped the pen.
"You're ah!-cheating," you managed, but your free hand gripped the bed edge, knuckles whitening. He was already slick with your arousal, parting you gently, one finger circling your clit with agonizing slowness.
"Am I?" He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, open-mouthed and hot through your shirt. "Tell me about ATP synthase. How's it work?" His finger dipped lower, sliding inside you with ease, curling just right. You clenched around him, a whimper building in your throat.
"Steve, I- I can't..." Your head fell back against his chest, textbook forgotten. He added a second finger, thrusting lazily, his thumb taking over on your clit. The stretch was perfect, familiar, but the way he held you there-teasing, controlled,had your pulse thundering.
"Nuh-uh, baby," he murmured, nipping at your earlobe. "Carry on. What's the role of oxygen in the electron transport chain?" His fingers pumped deeper, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. You rocked against his hand, chasing the friction, but he slowed, just enough to keep you on the edge.
"It's... it's the final electron acceptor," you gasped, words tumbling out in fragments. "Forms water with protons and electrons. Steve, please-"
"Good girl." The praise washed over you, warm and filthy, his free hand sliding up your shirt to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple through your bra. "One more. Krebs cycle intermediates. Name 'em."
You were a mess now, thighs trembling, notes blurring as heat coiled tight in your core. "Citrate... isocitrate... alpha-ketoglutarate... fuck, Steve, I can't-"
His chuckle vibrated against your neck, fingers twisting inside you, thumb pressing harder. "You can, Keep going."
The words dissolved into a moan as your orgasm crested, crashing over you in waves. You clamped down on his fingers, back arching, his name a broken chant on your lips. He worked you through it, murmuring encouragements—"That's it, baby, so pretty when you come"—until you slumped forward, boneless and panting.
He withdrew slowly, bringing his fingers to his lips with a smirk that made your cheeks burn. "See? Aced it." But his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and the bulge in his jeans was impossible to ignore. He was hard, aching for you, and the way he adjusted himself said he'd been holding back the whole time.
You turned in the chair, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. "Your turn to behave," you teased, voice husky, but there was no real bite to it. Adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, and the sight of him-flushed, hair mussed, lips shiny from tasting you had want surging back tenfold.
Steve's grin softened into something tender, his hands framing your face as he pulled you up to standing. " he muttered, backing you towards the edge of your bed, mouths crashing together in a kiss that tasted like salt and need. Tongues tangled, messy and desperate, and you tugged at his shirt, yanking it over his head. His skin was warm under your palms, muscles flexing as you traced the faint scars across his ribs-reminders of battles fought, survived, together.
He broke the kiss only to strip off your tee, bra following in a heap on the floor. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed, eyes raking over you like you were a miracle. It wasn't just lust; there was reverence there, the kind that made your chest ache. Steve had seen too much ugliness in Hawkins-monsters, betrayal, loss, and you were his soft place, his reason to laugh on the bad days.
You pushed him down onto the bed, straddling his hips as his hands settled on your waist. The mattress dipped under his weight, springs creaking softly. "My turn to quiz you," you whispered, grinding down against the hard line of him straining through his jeans. He groaned, head tipping back, Adam's apple bobbing.
"Anything," he promised, voice wrecked. "Ask me."
But words failed as you popped the button on his jeans, tugging them down with his help. His boxers followed, and there he was-thick and heavy, curving up toward his stomach, tip glistening. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slow and firm, thumb swiping over the head. Steve hissed, hips bucking, one hand fisting the sheets.
"Fuck, baby-"
You leaned down, kissing him deep, swallowing his moans as you positioned yourself. The head of him nudged your entrance, still slick from before, and you sank down inch by inch, both of you gasping at the stretch. He filled you perfectly, every ridge and vein dragging against your walls, and when you bottomed out, seated fully with him buried deep, the world narrowed to just this: his hands on your hips, your nails digging into his chest, the shared rhythm of your breaths.
"Ride me," he urged, voice gravelly, but his eyes searched yours-checking in, always, even in the haze of lust. You nodded, rolling your hips experimentally, and the friction sent sparks up your spine. He was so deep like this, hitting spots that made your toes curl.
You set a pace, slow at first, savoring the way he watched you-lips parted, brows furrowed in bliss. "Tell me... how's this for studying?" you panted, lifting and dropping, the wet sounds of skin on skin filling the room.
"Best... fucking lesson," he growled, thrusting up to meet you, hands guiding but not controlling. It was give and take, the way your relationship was-him letting you lead when you needed to feel in charge, you melting under his strength when the world got too heavy.
Faster now, the coil building again, your movements turning erratic. Steve sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand tangling in your hair as he captured your mouth. It was filthy, all teeth and tongue, his hips snapping up hard enough to jolt you. "Come for me again," he murmured against your lips. "Wanna feel you squeeze me, baby. Please."
The plea undid you. You shattered around him, clenching tight, vision whiting out as pleasure ripped through you. Steve followed seconds later, groaning low and guttural, spilling hot inside you with a final, deep thrust. His forehead pressed to yours, breaths mingling, bodies slick and trembling.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. His hands roamed your back, soothing strokes that grounded you, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the salt of his skin. "Think I passed?" you mumbled, half-asleep already, the exam a distant worry.
Steve laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "With flying colors." He shifted, easing you both down onto the pillows without pulling out yet, content to stay connected. "But if you want, I'll quiz you again tomorrow. No fingers next time. Scout's honor."
You swatted his shoulder, but there was no heat in it. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, stars pricking the sky like promises. Right now, it was just you and Steve, tangled in sheets and each other, the room filled with the scent of vanilla and sex.
The exam was a blur-pencils scratching, questions flowing easy. You walked out feeling light, spotting Steve waiting by the Beamer, a bouquet of daisies in his hand.
"How'd it go?" He pulled you close, ignoring the stares from underclassmen.
"A." You kissed him, long and unhurried. "Thanks to my tutor."
He grinned, opening the door. "Ice cream to celebrate?"
"Always."
i hope you guys loved reading this story and if you did, please like and reblog it. thank you so much for reading it ♡
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