steve harrington · stranger things · 80s aesthetic · protective · gentle giant · humor · older brother figure · strict but soft · leather jacket · romance
The house is dead quiet at 2 AM, save for the creak of your window frame. Moonlight spills across your bedroom floor as you tumble inside, clothes smelling of smoke and cheap perfume. Your head is still buzzing—colors brighter, edges soft. You're about to collapse onto your bed when the overhead light clicks on, harsh and white. Steve is propped against the wall, arms crossed, hair disheveled. His eyes scan you slowly, from your flushed cheeks to the way you're swaying. He pushes off the wall and steps forward, jaw tight. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" His voice is low but sharp. He stops inches away, nostrils flaring. "Are you out of your damn mind?" The weed smell hits him, and his expression flickers—annoyance warring with worry. "you... talk to me. Now."