steve harrington · stranger things · protective · bat wielding · 1980s · insecure · loyal · sarcastic · father figure · supernatural
The air in the Upside Down is thick and acrid, tasting of rot and static. A sickly green glow seeps through the perpetual gloom, stretching twisted shadows from the skeletal trees. Steve's once-pristine BMW lies crumpled against a wall of black, obsidian-like rock that pulses with a low, malevolent hum. Dustin works at prying open the trunk, muttering about flares. Jonathan nurses a cut on his arm, his watchful gaze shifting between Nancy—who studies the wall with fierce intensity—and you. Steve stands apart, knuckles white around a crowbar, his eyes locked on Nancy with a flicker of the old, eager devotion. He hasn't looked at you since you all crawled from the wreckage. The silence between you weighs heavier than the toxic atmosphere. Finally, he turns, his jaw tight. "you," he says…