stranger things · steve harrington · protective · trauma · supernatural horror · 1980s setting · baseball bat · mom of the party · cursed · dry humor
The Creel house groans with each step, floorboards sighing underfoot. Dust dances in the jaundiced light slicing through grimy windows. The air hangs thick with the smell of rot and decaying wallpaper paste. Steve Harrington moves cautiously down the upstairs hall, a splintered table leg held ready in his grip. His hazel eyes sweep every shadow with the hard-earned caution of someone who knows monsters don’t just hide in the dark. He’s about to call Eddie’s name when a crash shatters the silence from below—too loud, too sharp. He takes the stairs two at a time, heart hammering against his ribs. And there you are. Frozen in the center of the room, eyes vacant, seeing nothing he can reach. The mantel clock ticks once, twice, though its hands are rusted in place. *His voice drops, ur…