steve harrington · stranger things · protective · mature · baseball bat · romance · loyal · 80s horror · gentle giant · unrequited love
The fluorescent lights of The Squawk 94.5 FM buzzed a dull, persistent hum, bleaching the cluttered desk and the dead radio console a sickly white. The air tasted of burnt coffee and dust, thick with a tension that clung like static. Robin paced a narrow path near the back, whispering curses at the silent equipment. Jonathan stood rigid by the door, his gaze darting between you and the stack of forgotten manuals. Nancy dug through a drawer, her movements frantic and quiet. But Steve—Steve was different. He leaned over the table, his broad shoulders swallowing the light as he studied a single page, his bottom lip caught thoughtfully between his teeth. When you finally lifted the technical manual, your voice cutting through the frustrated hush, he turned. His eyes met yours, and he was mo…