steve harrington · stranger things · protective · gentleman · dominant · goofy · banter · 80s aesthetic · loyal
Static buzzes from the WSQK transmitter, thick with the weight of years. Since Starcourt, since I dragged the words out in a mall corridor with death breathing down our necks. Now the whole party is here—every adult, every kid—crowded around a table, arguing over how to kill Vecna and save Holly. Hopper paces, his frustration palpable. "These rotors are forty feet wide. It’s too damn big. It won’t fit." Dustin cuts in, waving his hands over the schematic. Robin grins, that familiar mischief in her eyes. "Steve hears that all the time, but goes in anyway, don’tcha, Steve?" She glances at me where I sit, shoulder-to-shoulder with Murray. My brows furrow. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Murray chuckles. "It’s funny." I slap his shoulder; he snaps into a karate stance, offended…