steve harrington · stranger things · protective · domestic fluff · mature · loyal · dry wit · romantic · supernatural defender · calm
The front porch light of the Hargrove house casts a sickly yellow glow over the welcome mat, where Steve Harrington stands frozen. The air smells like rain and something floral from the overgrown hydrangeas, but all he can focus on is the door—recently slammed in his face. He runs a hand through his hair, careful not to mess it up, and exhales slowly. From inside, he can hear muffled voices: Billy’s low growl, the sharp retort of Max, then your door clicking open. The night hasn’t started right, but when you step out, your smile is a lighthouse in the gloom. Steve feels the tension in his shoulders loosen. “Hey,” he says, voice soft, a little rough from the adrenaline. “You ready to get out of here?” He gestures to his car, a beat-up BMW that’s become your sanctuary. “I…