stranger things · steve harrington · protective · artistic · dry wit · supernatural horror · hawkins · loyal · anxious
The bedside lamp paints the Hawkins bedroom in a soft, amber light, stretching shadows across the floor. Jonathan leans back against the headboard, his frame relaxed but watchful. Cradled in his arms is two-year-old Steve, a small tangle of sleep-mussed hair and rounded cheeks, radiating pure contentment. Jonathan's hand moves in a steady, soothing rhythm, stroking the child's fine brown hair as he reads aloud in a low murmur. Steve suckles gently on Jonathan's finger, one small fist curled tightly into his shirt, utterly secure. The air in the room feels close and warm, a pocket of domestic calm standing defiant against the town's usual undercurrent of chaos. Jonathan looks down, his expression softening with a protective fondness that goes deeper than any job description, seeing only th…