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#stranger things s1
springfaekohaku · 3 months
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Warning Shot
It was only supposed to be a warning shot.
Steve Harrington found himself staring face first into the barrel of a gun, held by none other than Nancy Wheeler — his girlfriend.
Said girlfriend was shouting at him, while Jonathan Byers stood at her side with matching bandages on their hands, the boy looking just as shocked as Steve. His voice echoing around them and getting lost in Nancy’s booming voice, a side he never saw from the girl that he fell head over heels with. Steve could only hold his hands up in a surrendering gesture, he was officially freaking out.
It was chaos. Steve didn’t even know what to think, he arrived with the intent to figure out what was going on with the two of them, Tommy and Carols voices taunting him in his head that something was going on. But this? He was being screamed at, demanding he’d leave and get out of the Byers residence, while Christmas lights were flickering on the wall with an alphabet drawn into it; he felt like he was having a fever dream.
Until the walls started to tremble and shake, Nancy’s voice got desperate and in a panic at Steve’s insistence to know what the hell was going on, he just wouldn’t leave. Jonathan’s panic at the escalation and the added pressure of Steve being in the midst of their plan, making everything go astray. Nancy had to do something to get Steve to leave, she felt herself building in pressure and like a rubber band; she snapped.
Just as the roof was being sunken in and the lights bursting, a loud BANG! rung through the living room and it all went silent…
Steve felt like his ears burst and could only hear ringing as he stared at Nancy. It was like things were in slow motion and his brain didn’t catch up to what just happened until he felt a burning sharp pain in his right hand and turned his head to see a hole in the middle of his palm. That’s when it all set in and realised what the fuck just happened.
He hears both Nancy’s and Jonathan’s voices.
“It was only supposed to be a warning shot. I-It, I…I aimed above I swear. I didn’t mean to.”
“What did you just do?! You shot him! You actually shot him, whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—”
Steve finally felt everything coming back and clear as the ringing subsided, the adrenaline wearing off and he truly feels the agony and pain in his hand. There is a hole in his hand. In the middle of his palm.
There is a fucking hole in his hand.
And Nancy Wheeler, his girlfriend was the cause of it. Pretty sure it was Ex-Girlfriend now.
He hears the two teenagers shouting in panic and stress, while Steve checked out, only feeling blood pooling out from his wound down his arms and off his elbow. So he releases his hands from the air and cradles his injured hand with his other one, it hurt but his mind was somewhere else and everything seemed to collapse on itself. In his mind and currently in the Byers living room. However, he had a rude awakening as he felt Jonathan call out his name like trying not to spook a wild animal that’s been injured. His name was soft and gentle on his lips. Steve could see the desperation and panic in his eyes, like they were running out of time.
And they were. They were given a moment of peace until hell broke loose again. Only this time, the roof does sink in on itself, with a monster phasing through it and Steve was right under it. He could only look up and see what appears to be a claw, almost puncturing through the roof like it was made out of flesh and stretched skin.
Jonathan didn’t waste a second, discarding the initial plan to coax Steve into safety, they ran out of time; so he lunges for Steve. Grabbing his uninjured arm, tugging him and both jumping over the bear trap and to the room with Nancy ahead, opening the door for both boys and her last, locking it and standing guard.
Steve was walked to the bed and Jonathan sat him down. He had to find something to bandage Steve’s wound, which felt fruitless because there was no medical supplies in this room. So he figured the next best thing is a thin layered shirt that he can tear up and use as a makeshift bandage. It seemed like luck was on his side because he found exactly that. It was a disposable shirt too, it wouldn’t be missed, so he got to work. He had to act fast, he could hear the monster finally break through and its heavy body hit the living room floor. He kneels down in front of Steve and sees the other boy holding his injured hand and trembling. He coaches Steve through it and tells him it’s going to be okay, that it’ll hurt but that he’s here. Maybe it was also to get himself together too. He’s not leaving. As scared as he is, Jonathan knew the monster smelt their blood and now Steve’s fresh flesh wound, he didn’t want it to get any worse than it already is.
They had a plan. It’s all gone to shit and haywire.
Now, they just need to figure out how to trap the bastard and keep it from the others. They can still do this, they need to do this.
Jonathan looks at his handy work and deems is satisfactory for now and turns towards Nancy, meeting her eyes, he sees her guarded, her eyes were stormy and face littered in a ripple of emotions. But it seems like she also has the same conclusion, get it together and focus on the plan; no matter if it’s skewed and ruined.
So, she meets Jonathan’s gaze. She doesn’t even have it in her to look at Steve. Her boyfriend. The boy she shot.
They can still execute in the next phase. They just need Steve to be hidden in a secure place, away from danger.
Away from Nancy and her gun. Which was unsaid but it was spoken in her mind.
Nancy nods, standing guard and Jonathan nods in return. Standing up to guide Steve to a wardrobe, taking everything out and placing him in. Jonathan didn’t feel any resistance, he can clearly tell Steve is still in shock and internally dissociating. He notices that far-away look and how pliant he was with being essentially manhandled into the wooden wardrobe. Sitting him down, Jonathan can only offer a few words of reassurance and telling the older boy they’ll be back for him when it’s over. He wasn’t able to wait for a response as Nancy signals Jonathan and Steve feels the sense of safety and warmth leave his space. A feeling he’d never thought associating with Jonathan, it was new but he couldn’t help but feel his lingering touches, gentle yet firm.
He doesn’t even notice the wardrobe doors close and all he knows next is darkness and being left alone with his thoughts. He can’t help but think back to his and Jonathan’s spat, how Steve taunted him and called him names, said awful things about his family and yet…the younger boy grabbed him and took his hand into safety and out of danger without a second thought. He can’t help but also think about how in their fight, or well, Steve’s beat-down, how Jonathan being on top of him sparked a feeling that felt dangerous and unknown, yet familiar. How he straddled his hips and felt his hands on him and like moments ago, instead of his touch hurting, he was gentle and kind. He felt butterflies in his stomach. It made Steve and his entire world go into turmoil and it seems like he’s come to two conclusions tonight:
Monsters are real.
He’s pretty sure he’s having a Queer awakening.
He didn’t have time to dwell more in the closet, haha, because the sound of gunshots, the sound of like a banshee screeching, Nancy’s voice and Jonathan’s grunts could be heard; Steve had to get out.
So he does.
Steve breaks out of his hiding spot and opens the door, he rushes to the scene of commotion and sees Jonathan pinned down by the monster, which looked to be made out of flesh, its mouth opens like a flower with petals that has razor sharp teeth inside — all wanting to bite into Jonathan’s face as the boy tries to fight against it. Nancy fired shots but it seems to not deterrent the monster, not even bothering it and she seemed frozen and unsure what to do next.
Enter Steve who spots the nailed bat, so he leaps over the bear trap again, grabbing the nail bat and as the adrenaline fills his entire being once again; he doesn’t even feel the pain as he grips the bat in a death grip. He gets close enough and shouts at the ugly bastard. He gains its attention and it screeches at him, now smelling the fresh blood from Steve’s hand and detached itself from Jonathan. It stood and towered over Steve but Steve didn’t feel anything but anger, rage, the instinct to protect and keep them safe.
He twirls the bat to get a better grip and positions himself into a stance to fully swing at the monster, using all his strength and power, he hoped playing baseball for a while payed off.
So he swung, the monster staggering and Steve was hitting blow after blow and that’s when Nancy and Jonathan recoup to see Steve backing the hideous creature into the bear trap. It was working.
Holy shit, it was working.
Steve knew it fell into the trap as it screeched in a guttural scream that he hasn’t heard before.
That’s when he hears Jonathan’s voice shouting at him to stand back and he sees the boy throw a lit lighter into the gasoline which Steve didn’t even notice until it was engulfing the floor and racing towards the trap. Eventually engulfing the creature and the three teens watch as the creature screamed, tried to break free of the trap and even tears off its leg to escape.
Nancy was caught off guard at the unexpected movement and backed away and tugged Jonathan back with her. Eyes trained on it as it advances towards them but then Steve, Steve being the reckless idiot he was, uses the last of his strength and takes only a few strides and twists his body, elbows up and shoulders squared; his feet planted and he swings.
The nails pierced the monsters head before the rest of the bat followed, connecting with the head ripping it clean off its shoulders. The screeching stopped at its decapitation and only the sound of fire burning its flesh remain and the flicker of the lights finally stop and the room stopped feeling like it was going through an earthquake. They stare at the monsters corpse and sees it disintegrating under the flames, taking the heat with it and only leaving scorch marks behind.
Everything was still.
It was over.
Or was it?
TBC…
Next chapter —>
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galecstatic · 1 year
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THEY ALL LOOK SO TINY I'M GONNA CRY
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goonflower · 5 months
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sometimes i think about this sign. i think about how nancy wasn't even allowed to feel anger about it for more than part of an episode, before the plot moved onto jonathan getting beat up and nancy healing his wounds and monster shit. had she even processed what happened here or did it all move too fast for her to think about? did she process steve's apology in the midst of the demogorgon on the loose? did she process this moment in season 1? or did it come later? did it come when the monster was dead? or did it come when she walks into town or school the next day and she can feel everyone's eyes on her without anything to distract her? did nancy "the slut" wheeler catch on and follow her around, even as steve begun shedding his reputation? did she stick by steve's side hoping that him taking back those words might make others do the same? did it ever work? or do tommy h and carol perkins still call slut? do they add "slut" to her byline in the school newspaper?
i know steve apologised and i don't even mean this to be anti-steve, i just wish the writers had understood the signficance this would've realistically had. i mean this is the 80s, hawkins is a small town, you think ppl would just forget abt that one time "slut" was spray painted on their local theatre?
i mean it could've added to the tension of s2 st*ncy, it could have been a part of nancy's arc and her struggle to make friends or an early start to her sexism arc with the hawkins post, it could have even been part of steve's arc. imagine steve grapping with wanting to be better whilst also grappling with having to realise the consquences of his actions as "king steve". this moment could've been its own arc, if the writers actually understood the significance of it.
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c4ntbr36th · 1 month
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okay wait…
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getting these vibes. for the jacket.
ALSO ITS GREEN
the jacket is GREEN AUGH ITS GREEN
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joellkeeny · 1 year
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JOE CONCERT PHOTOS>>>
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ratzskull · 1 month
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Do you think there's a name for Eddie's van everyone came up with? And whilst they were thinking of one Robin came up with 'the pussy wagon'. At which point Steve became a passenger survivor as Eddie swerved in a fit of laughter.
After that they drove in Steve's car for the next few weeks in silence and had to never mention the pussy wagon again.
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will80sbyers · 6 months
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Charlie Heaton as Jonathan Byers in STRANGER THINGS (2016)
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alwaysmoncheri · 6 months
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𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑
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return to — steve harrington masterlist
you can find my story on wattpad here!
you can find my steve harrington playlist here!
you can read my story on wattpad or here on tumblr — whichever you prefer ´・ᴗ・`
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𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟏
I - the vanishing of will byers
II - the search
III - the weirdo on maple street
IV - the house party
V - the body
VI - pictures
VII - the woods
VIII - don’t turn off the lights
IX - monster hunting
X - the kiddie pool
XI - let’s kill this son of a bitch
XII - happy holidays
𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟐
XIII - mad max
XIV - new kids on the block
XV - halloween night
XVI - tension
XVII - episodes
XVIII - the cellar
XIX - sexual electricity
XX - the junkyard
XXI - hawkins lab
XXII - the spy
XXIII - together again
XXIV - the fight
XXV - tunnels
XXVI - the snow ball
𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞
XXVII - scoops ahoy
XXVIII - suzie, do you copy?
XXIX - the code
XXX - evil russians
XXXI - the air ducts
XXXII - child endangerment
XXXIII - booby traps
XXXV - caught
XXXVI - drugged
XXXVII - escaping evil russians 101
XXXVIII - interrogate me
XXXIX - the bite
XL - the mind flayer
XLI - scoops troop
XLII - the battle of starcourt
XLIII - new beginnings
𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟒
XLIV - the pep rally
XLV - the nightmares
XLVI - the game
tba !!
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alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
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teliiastales · 1 month
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You can feel the tension through the screen…
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tom-hrdys · 3 months
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DAVID HARBOUR as JIM HOPPER | Stranger Things 01x02: "The Weirdo On Maple Street"
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springfaekohaku · 3 months
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Warning Shot II
Ch1 Ch2
Steve!
Hey, hey — Steve! Stay awake…nonono keep your eyes open!
Please, stay with me, don’t…
…you’re gonna be okay…
Steve felt himself come to, his body felt heavy and like his eyelids were glued together. His lips felt chapped, his throat dry and he felt so groggy, but his brain was finally catching up and the urge to open his eyes grew.
So, he opened them to be greeted with fluorescent lights, a constant ringing sound in his right ear and the strong throbbing in his head, with so much onslaught of feelings and emotions; he felt overstimulated. His face hurt all over and his left eye was squinting, not fully opened. The lights were making this sound and he could feel the drumming of his heartbeat, beeping sounds repeating over and over again, he was nauseous to it all and felt like throwing up. But, he didn’t, he wasn’t going to do that because as a child, he always had a fear of throwing up and he wasn’t going to do that wherever he was. He felt dazed, confused and wait…
Is that a hand?
Steve blinked again and turned his head to the left to find a hand grabbing his uninjured hand, then he followed it to find a huge mass of hair on the side of his bed that belonged to none other than Jonathan Byers.
The young boy couldn’t believe it, Jonathan was resting on his bedside and he felt like his head was exploding. Maybe this all was a dream, he was going to wake up and he’ll be in his bed instead, with his ugly wallpaper his mother decorated without his input and trophies that amounted to nothing. He’ll be greeted to no one and in a soulless room in an empty house.
His thoughts of inner turmoil and disbelief end with a throbbing and burning sensation of his right hand, he hisses and shuffles in discomfort, not wanting to disturb Jonathan who was resting beside him but ultimately doing it anyways. He felt a bit guilty and bad for it but his heart flutters with the younger boys presence, he felt comforted by how after everything, he had someone to wake up to for once. Whenever he was injured or sick as a child, his parents would never stay or be there when he woke up, he never had that kind of affection or love. His Nanny that his mother and father couldn’t he assed to do the same even when he’d plead to her, to stay and be there when he woke up. No bedtime stories, no doting after his injures when he’d get hurt and be reckless on purpose because all he wanted was their love and attention. Sprained ankles, busted knees, he even recalls playing basketball with Tommy in middle school and falling, resulting in his first ever concussion. No supervision, no worried parents, just his Coach telling him what to do and his parents assuring the older man in empty promises and false lies that they’ll look after him.
But here Jonathan was. In all his glory, with a matching bandage around his hand.
And he was waking up.
Steve watched as Jonathan gained consciousness and saw his hand curled around his instinctively, like with no thought to it. He felt those damned butterflies again.
Jonathan lifted his head, he looked so tired and dazed, being hunched over in the chair and resting like that surely couldn’t be comfortable at all. The older boy watches mutely, his right hand demanding for relief to the pain and his head thundering in rows of throbs, pressing into his eyeballs, but he silently observes. Jonathan doesn’t even notice until Steve squeezes his hand and just like that, Jonathan was wide awake and sobered up in record time; eyes wide and mouth agape.
“Steve! Y-You’re awake!” Jonathan states. His volume was a bit too loud for Steve, the brunettes faced pinched in distaste and Jonathan instantly catches on; internally fighting himself. “I’m sorry. I’ll whisper for now, is that okay?”
Steve gave him another squeeze, he was forgiven. He attempts somewhat of a smile that felt like he was grimacing, but Jonathan nodded, smiling back.
“I’m going to call in the nurse okay? Let them know you’re awake and ask them if they can give you some of the good stuff. I can see that you’re in pain — I’ll be right back.”
Steve didn’t have time to react as he watched Jonathan softly pat his hand and depart from his bedside, getting up and making his way to the door and outside into the hallway. That was when Steve realised only now that he was in the hospital. It dawned on him so suddenly that he was hurt, not just, scrapes or bruises or even a broken nose — no…he was…
He was shot.
Oh God, he was shot and Nancy was the one who pulled the trigger.
He felt himself spiralling as the events of that nightmare of a night came flooding back to him and the last moments before he lost consciousness what Jonathans voice begging him to stay awake and calling out his name. The other worldly inner dimensional monster, the Christmas lights and living room lights flickering and bursting, the roof sinking in as its claw reaching for Steve. Seeing his Ex-Girlfriend aiming a gun at him, finding matching bandages on her and Jonathan’s hands, a nail-bat, Jonathan being so gentle and soft with him, sending him into a Queer panic and stepping into the fray to tap the ugly bastard into a bear trap and set it on fire. Steve beheading said creature and the rest…was nothing.
He just wanted to apologise.
These thoughts, not necessarily in order where hitting Steve like a truck. He didn’t even realise he was sending himself into a panic attack as Nurses and Doctors rushed their way in, calling out orders, turning the bright harsh lights off and closing the curtain to his left to drown out the sunlight, his faintly hears his heart monitor going crazy and his bones itching, his skin too tight and body shaking; his breaths were getting harsher and less oxygen was getting into his lungs. He was frantic and the sounds where making him feel like everything was too much, it was too much, fuck.
The last thing he heard was the voices and bodies of white coats pacing around his bed and seeing Jonathan standing out in the corner of the room looking at him in concern.
Then it all went black.
The next time Steve came through was not as slow or nice. He woke up with a gasp, his eyes bugged open and wide, struggling to get up, a voice close to his left side trying to sooth him and calm is sudden awakening.
Only, this time, he was met with Jonathan and Jim Hopper. Jonathan sees Steve’s want to get up and decides to help him prop himself in a seating position, then grabbing the bed post to angle it upright so Steve can lean back in a relaxed posture. Not wanting the older boy to injure himself further or go into another panic attack. Steve struggling to talk and coming out in dry croaks, Jonathan reaches for the glass of water and angles the straw to his mouth. The older boy grateful for the cold clear liquid going down his throat, it felt like bliss.
Jim can only watch the two boys in astound amusement and fondness.
He remembers not only long ago having the both of them in the back of his police vehicle, seeing Steve Harrington’s face busted in and Jonathan Byers without a scratch on him. Knowing that they had a fight — to his surprise, Steve denied any charges against the older Byers boy and explained how it was his fault anyways for pushing the other to snap; while his brother was missing and his mother seemingly going insane. Which he later learned and figured out for himself that was not the case at all. In fact, she was right and Jim needed to help. He needed to get his head out of his ass and be the Chief that this town needs, because as cursed as Hawkins is, it was his home and the people in it, it was his duty and moral obligation to serve and protect. Not only that, but he couldn’t bare to see another parent loose a child, especially not when there is a chance to save them and bring them back home.
He watches as Jonathan takes Steves hand in his own, rubbing circles on the back of his hand and whispering words of reassurance and trying to bring some kind of comfort. He sees Steve finally relax in what seemed in years, like he was waiting for someone to comfort him and be there for him. Something Jim hasn’t been doing. The man has had instances of reports of the Harrington boy throwing huge parties whilst his parents where absent and on work trips…and Jim would always be there to break it up and give him warnings each and every time. He stood there and watched, knowing his parents since high school. Knowing he left Steve with such people. He wished he was more attentive, more supportive and less absent throughout the boys life, the boy was practically screaming on the inside for anyone, anyone, to see through his act and show him that there are people who care about him.
Who’d love and want him.
It’s been a hell of a week and seeing Will and Steve in these hospital beds reminded him too much of Sara. His dear Sara.
Seeing these kids in these beds, even Steve being as tall as he is; he looked so small.
It reminded him that these are just kids. Steve may act big, like everything is normal and nothing could get to him. But it seems like that came to an abrupt halt when everything went upside down and witnessing in real-time Steves ‘King Steve’ persona crumble. Powell even noticed less parties at the Harrington residence, Flo even talked about no more calls being made and despite the call of the boys fight; Jim sees change.
So, the next best thing he can do is call Doctor Owens in.
Now comes the hard part.
Doctor Owens walks in with an air of authority and aloofness around him, with nurses behind him and the surgeon who worked on Steve’s hand.
Jim walks behind them and makes his way near Jonathan as the rest walks to Steve’s right-hand bedside. Jonathan, by Steve’s surprise holds his hand within their presence, firm and with no sense of letting go.
The three waited in baited breath.
“Mr.Harrington, nice to see you awake.” Dr Owens starts, holding the boys chart and smiling. Turning his head towards him and the new people in his room, Steve couldn’t help but think how goofy and weird this man is. He didn’t even care of the open show of affection of handholding they were doing.
“Just, Steve is fine. Please.” Steve replies.
Dr Owens smile broadens and nods in understanding.
“Right. Well, I got your chart here and now that you’re awake, you were quite in-and-out of it and I’m sure you don’t remember it. Now, we’d like to talk about your state of being and I’m sure you’re anxious to know about your right hand there.”
Steve blinks and — yeah, he wants to know, so he nods.
“So, let’s start with the small stuff and then we’ll work our way up to your hand?”
Steve nods again for him to continue. He won’t lie, he feels a bit anxious but he takes a deep breath anyways and exhales.
“Okay, let’s start with your superficial wounds. Some minor abrasions, like cuts and grazes. Nothing too bad. Now, your head. I was told by Jim here that you suffered a Grade 1 concussion before this all started, which I was also told why your face has minor injuries such as your split lip, nose — which isn’t broken, your eye is swollen but lemme just take a quick look now. But also, Jonathan here explained dhow after the fight with the Demogorgan, you passed out and fell to the floor, Which induced another concussion, he tried to keep you awake but you fell unconscious quickly, Grade 2. ” The doctor reads out and explains in a no nonsense manner but his tone soft. He reaches for his pockets and pulls out his torch, now closer to the bed, he leans across from Steve and does a normal eye checkup. Steve’s eyes flinch at the light glaring into his, no matter how less bright it was, he was told to close his left eye, his right eye was still swollen and he could only see blurred lines.
Dr Owens does what he could for the time being and continues where he left off, “Can you see anything at all?”
In which Steve nods and describes his vision blurry but not so bad. Next, his ears were also checked out due to the concussions; which he found the ringing in his right ear never dissipated. As he explained further and telling the truth that he actually started to notice it after the fight with Jonathan. In which Jonathan bows his head in shame but Steve turns to him and reassures him he didn’t hold it against him.
Dr Owen gained their attention again and resumes, “Okay, we’ll have to schedule a hearing test as well as an optometrist appointment later on. Now, onto the news I’m sure you’re wanting to hear most.”
Steve feels like a dowse of cold water is dumped onto him, he would’ve rather been shot in the foot. This news would tell him his fate, his future and how things will play out.
“Regarding your hand, I’ll let the surgeon take it from here. Dr Sheffur?”
Dr Owens parted and gave room for Dr Sheffur to take his place; he had Steve’s undivided attention.
“The surgery went well. As you may know, Hawkins isn’t equipped with specialists and doctors like those in the city. We are limited here and as I have handled gunshot wounds, operating on a gunshot wound in which the cartridge exploded, which I am sure you didn’t realise it’s true damage until later. Adrenaline must’ve been pumping and clouding your pain, I heard from your friend Jonathan here that despite the pain and wound; you handled a bat and gripped it tight. Which meant that your nerves must’ve been working due to pure adrenaline. Possibly, you didn’t even feel a thing.”
Dr Shaffur pauses to let the information sink in, “Do you want me to continue? Or take a break?”
Steve shakes his head and feel himself go a bit dizzy because of it but regains his composure. “Lay it down on me doc…” He tries so hard to play it off but inside, he’s internally vibrating out his skin. He even hears the heart monitor give away his poor attempt at an act. But no one calls him out for it or shows they saw through him.
Dr Shaffur coughed into his hand, clearing his throat and swallows, despite being the bearer of bad and good news; it never gets easy to tell patients the news of their conditions. Not when it’s their worst fears or nightmares come true.
In which he was the Sandman and he was going to give Steve the worst news and turn his nightmares into reality. He has been blamed so many times, on patients who he couldn’t save and despite all the hard effort and the countless lives he does save…the ones he does and ones that leave permanent damage hurt him.
“Your hand has suffered from nerve damage because of the cartridge explosion, it has left a gaping wound. Due to the blood loss of your hand, we had to cut up supply of blood to save it. Sadly, there will not be an 100% recovery for it, your muscles will need time to regrow and the bone in your palm will regrow to some extent but it will not regrow fully. We tried a surgical repair to suture the wound, but due to delayed treatment because of your situation, it has to also heal by a secondary intention. Natures Wound Filler. Your DNA will try to build a complete copy of the body if it is present with a nucleus but the skin and tissue that will regrow won’t be as tough as your original tissue. Due to the use of your hand after and I am sure your friend also tried his best to patch you up in a desperate time — a crucial time.
There are many tendons, nerves, muscles that are tightly packed into our hands…in this case, it hit a lot of them. In your case, I am saddened to say we weren’t able to make out the best outcome for your hand. There was nothing more I could do, the damage was too much and what I can say for the future of your hand won’t ever fully recover or of use. I’d also mention the Chronic Pain that’ll come with it. We can appoint you to a Physical Therapist to see if we can regain any movement and try. Any questions or should I let you and others take some time to ingest all of this?”
When Dr Shaffur finished, it was dead silent and it was like Jim’s toothpick in his mouth could drop and they’d hear it. Steve was trying his best to soak everything in and the more the Dr talked about his surgery and outcome for his hand, the more he felt like sinking into the bed — the urge to disappear was immense. He was speechless,
Steve had to use his hands, both hands, he plays basketball with them, he swims with them, he is right handed and depends on his hand for so many things.
Just like that, he felt his dream slipping away, he couldn’t even fall back on a scholarship with his basketball career, say goodbye to that and swimming championships. His parents would be furious with him, the disappointment in their eyes he could see plain as day, not because their kid got hurt but because of the hospital bills and taking them away from their business trip; not to mention that their kid couldn’t even do what he was only good at. Steve can admit, he loves sports. It was the only thing he excelled at and naturally, he took the chance to do anything to make his Dad and Mother proud. However, as time went on, he fell in love with it. Basketball offered him the adrenaline on the court, he looses himself and relishes in the sportsmanship, he enjoyed it even more because he had Tommy on the team. His best friend. Or, ex-best friend. Wow, he has a lot of past friends with history now. Swimming offered him the cold water, that parts like his body was made for the water, gliding through it seamlessly, it freed his mind and he felt at home. Like the pool in his backyard. It was the only thing that ever felt inviting and his in that damn house. His parents never even use it, only to show off.
He faintly hears Jim’s deep voice and Jonathan’s hand grasp tighter.
What use will he be now?
He looks down at his right hand and never felt so empty.
It wasn’t until he felt hands clasp his face on both sides and is turned to see Jonathan’s face. It was only the two of them in the room now and Steve didn’t even realise tears streaking down his face until the other boy’s thumb wiped them away, careful to mind Steve’s injuries that he was responsible for.
Steve’s head throbbed, the ringing in his ear building and eyes blurring due to the tears and his left eye fully shutting. He hiccuped and sobbed, finally coming to terms with the news and his future.
But for now, he had Jonathan by his side and apparently Jim Hopper in his corner now.
Which is why, when Jim walked out that room with the doctors to give the two boys space and time to feel and be and some privacy. The last he saw was Jonathan bringing Steve in for a hug.
He made his way to the waiting room and found none other than Nancy Wheeler seated in one of the chairs. Head down, elbows resting on her knees, hunched and had guilty ridden all over her; he could practically smell self-hatred in the air around her.
How on earth was he going to break the news to her?
Should he be the one to tell her?
Shit.
TBC…
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My apologies to those I couldn’t tag. I was unable to due to some error. I hope this instalment finds you and you enjoy. Thank you for the overwhelming support. <3
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mayfieldswalkman · 4 months
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steve harrington — stranger things // isle of dogs — wes anderson // juliet by cavetown // this is me trying — taylor swift // daisy jones & the six — tjr // what i could never confess by emily palermo
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cannibalismyuri · 1 year
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laughing so hard rn. dustin, lucas and mike were. SO unserious in s1. they were at will's FUNERAL and they really said, 'ahahahah wait till we tell will this pretty girl was crying at his funeral aahahhaha 🤪🥳😏'
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marvelsgirl616 · 1 month
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Jim Hopper Icons | Season One. Episode One. | ‘Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers’
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joellkeeny · 1 year
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Are you doing any blurbs? I was just picturing a modern Steve working in an office and he’s super flirty with you and one night you’re both working late and hook up in the office. But it’s one of those hook ups where both are DEF gonna catch feelings
yes I am!!! thanks for the request, I really appreciate you for trusting me with this idea :)
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It's 9:15, far too late to be arriving to the office so you keep your head down as you pass through the rows cubicles, silently reclaiming your spot in your squeaky chair before you sigh as you turn on the computer. Bouncing your knee, you pray that no one noticed your obvious absence for the first hour of the day, that is until he peaks his head over the wall separating your cubicles, leaning his forearms on the not so sturdy wall as he grins, the familiar, cocky curl of his lips greeting you as you try to ignore him. “What do you want, Harrington?” You keep your eyes on your computer as you click through your files, arranging the day's tasks and making a schedule for yourself. He just chuckles, still watching you and the silent tactic seems to work on pulling your attention to him solely. “What?“ You repeat yourself, glaring at him with a huff and just by the way he looks at you, you already see the joke concocting in his head.
“So, was he good?” Asking vaguely, he taps his fingers on the wall. You don't need more than a mere few seconds to realize what he's talking about. “Oh shut up. I woke up late.” Rolling your eyes at the discreet suggestion of having a hookup to keep you up late, you miss the way he breathes out subtly, as if relieved by the fact. Ignoring him once again, you get up from your chair, padding through the office to the small kitchen you share with about ten other people. Turning on the coffee machine, you wait as you place your mug down, watching as if fills up with the liquid gold. He's hot on your heels, resting on the counter next to you, his arms crossing over his chest before he leans closer. “You know, Mark just said he needed two volunteers to stay after hours to help with the files that just came in today.” He elbows your arm slightly, knowing what he's suggesting by the way he wiggles his brows.
Huffing again, you focus on the coffee as you add the sugar, mixing it thoroughly before taking a sip. Slipping past him, you try to go down the hall again before he stops you, blocking the door by stepping in front of you, his hands on the doorframe. “Oh come on, we both need the extra cash, and what better way to earn it than with your favorite coworker?” You snort indignantly as if he just said the funniest thing ever. You would cross your arms over your chest if it weren't for the minimal distance between the two of you, his pretty brown eyes boring into yours in a way which always makes you feel warmer than you should around him. “I'd rather rot in my tiny apartment with no money instead.” Pushing at his chest, he moves out of the way, though still keeping close as he follows you back to the cubicles. “Ouch.” He shakes his head with a chuckle, letting you sit down in your chair again, warm mug nestled in your hands as you look at him. He would be offended by your words if it weren't for the fact that he's known you for your years and this was just the way your friendship worked. Rude remarks and teasing jokes shared between the walls of the office, and though he'd never let anyone talk to him the way you do, he still doesn't know why you're so special.
“Okay, I'll tell Mark he has two eager volunteers for the job.” With a chuckle, he leaves you alone as you turn back to your desk, focusing on your work as you try to shove the fact that you'll lose your free time on some stupid files away from your mind.
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What had started out as a short session of file sorting and chatting with Steve turned in a five hour work session, your nerves becoming too to bear much as you plop down in your boss's chair, the remaining files resting on the desk. Steve is no better shape than you, his tie loosened from his neck, sleeves rolled up to his forearms as he rubs over his face, settling down another file and a stack of papers before he leans against the desk in front of you. “Can't fucking believe this,” You mutter, knowing that your boss omitted to imply the huge amount of work there was to be done by two poor employees who have to return to work the next day at 8 am sharp. “You know what? Fuck him and fuck the money, I'm nit lifting another finger.” Sighing, you lean back in your chair and shake your head, unsure of how to deal with the insane amount of work left to be done and lack of time and energy.
You're both gazing at each other, you can see the cogs turning in his head, yet you're not able to decipher what he's thinking about and you only realize it now that it has been way too long since you've tested each other's patience. You've been working patiently side by side without any remarks or jokes, no pulling on each other's strings but just simply working together. And that's when you realize that it's a choice to poke fun at each other, perhaps trying to ignore the bubbling feeling each time he gives you his signature grin, or shove away the sweet words he manages to sneak in between his teasing ones and just accept that you actually might like Steve Harrington.
Sure, he's not the man you've imagined falling for, but it feels the same for him though he knows he's got it bad for you and can't help but wonder if you do. The second time you look up at him, his eyes are already locked on yours, his fingers tightening around the edge of the desk as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing being the only evidence of that as he seems to keep his composure intact. “What?” You ask yet again, the man being both an open book and a box full of surprises all wrapped up in one, never knowing where his mind is though you can easily guess that he's probably cooking up a dirty joke.
“You know what.” He responds simply, not even bothering to take his eyes off of you while he shifts closer, resting in front of you on the desk while he almost straddles your crossed legs, one hand slowly shifting to the arm of the chair. “Steve?” Asking as you slightly shrink back in your seat, he settles his other hand on the armrest of the chair before pulling you close until the edge of the chair bumps into his knees. “Steve, what are you doing?” It's not panic in your voice, but uncertainty, unsure of what he wants to do and afraid that you'll misread the signals and end up ruining this thing you have with him.
“We should do something about this....thing, we have. It's driving me insane.” He mutters as his eyes focus on your lips as they part a bit, releasing a shaky breath when you notice where his eyes travel. “What thing?” You dare to ask, maybe even joke if the limited distance between your bodies wasn't sucking out all the oxygen in the room. “Oh don't play dumb...” You might as well do that as you gaze at him, the air growing thicker. He cocks his head as he leans down over the chair, his demeanor faltering a bit as he sees the look in your eyes, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, the last thing he wants is to be fired if you file a complaint to HR about his inappropriate behavior at work.
He is in love, maybe, but he's not stupid. Letting you think for a few moments, he sees the realization down over you with the way your eyes widen a bit, not even believing that he's suggesting something like that. “You want to...” It's a question that shouldn't even be uttered before he nods, his nose brushing yours in the process as he does. His scent is something distinctive out of the bunch. The always lingering coffee on his clothes as he always insists on making his at home before work, his cologne, not too strong at this hour, more so letting you get just a slight waft as he leans closer, his hand sliding up over your arm until it reaches your face where the warmth of his palm envelops your cheek.
“Do it.” You challenge, suddenly gaining a short rush of adrenaline that flows rapidly through your veins, burning hot as it somehow makes you ache for him, long for something you've never felt. “Do it, Harrington, you're all talk, ever since we met.” You challenge, craning your neck up in a futile attempt at catching a taste of his lips while also trying to rile him up and mask the way you're slowly crumbling under his gaze, ready to comply to his every wish.
He stays put for longer than a few beats as if unsure if you're really trying to push his buttons or if you're meaning each and every word coming out of your mouth. Torn between listening to the little mocking voice in his head telling him he'll make a fool of himself if he does end up listening to you, and just giving in to the temptation of your glossy lips to claim them as his own. Seeing the cogs turn in his head as he debates his options, you swallow your pride and try to push the negative thoughts away as you reach a shaky hand up to his smooth cheek and pull him down to place a soft peck to his lips, feeling his hands tighten their grip on the armrest of your chair, tugging you even closer as he melts into you. One taste of your lips and he already knows it's going to be his doom if he doesn't taste them again, and so this time, his hand doesn't shy away from gripping your cheek and pulling you in to his lips, letting them meld together as he moans instantly, moving your head up as he pushes the chair away from the desk, blindly following your lips as he keeps his eyes closed in fear of ending the perfect moment.
His moves are calculated, coming to him as if it's something he'd thought about for a long time, and that would be true if he didn't refrain himself from thinking about you in that way, knowing that you will certainly feel the shift in attitude he would've had towards you. Reluctantly pulling away to breathe, you look into his eyes deeply, feeling the way he's ready to eat you up. “Steve.” You say simply, debating pulling away completely, afraid that this will mess up your relationship with him and end up like all of the other colleagues who decided to hook up and now avoid each other at all cost through the building, not bearing to look at each other. To you, having something like that with Steve sounds like your worst nightmare and you'd rather never know what the Steve Harrington is like in bed or even as a boyfriend if it'll ruin everything between you.
“Yeah?” He finally manages to rasp back, expecting a lame excuse about whatever you've got to do that would pull you away from the situation. Though that doesn't happen as you press a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat under his ribs as you rise from the chair, pushing him back on your boss' desk and hungrily wrap his tie around your hand and yank him in for a kiss as you climb on his lap, your other hand settling at the back of his head, chestnut strands slipping through your fingers like silk and all you want to do in that moment is pull and see what other sounds wait to be discovered. Your knees press into the expensive wooden surface while his head willingly tilts to the side to kiss you better, any inhibitions you previously had, thinking that maybe he's not that interested in you are long gone. And that and the growing hardness in his dress pants can attest to that. Without thinking, you drop your hands to his belt, beginning to quickly work on the leather, opening it as he stutters out a breath, his head drops back a bit, gazing up at the ceiling until he hears the ripple of a zipper.
“Condom...we don't have one.” He breathes out as you snake a hand in his pants, his own large ones coming up to hold your ass. You stop, his cock standing proud against his stomach once you pull it out, though you don't even dare to look down at his revelation. Leaning back a bit, you debate your choices a bit. “You're not getting me pregnant, Harrington. Do you hear me?” Speaking sternly as you know your next suggestion must be your worst idea so far. Getting down from his lap, he's ready to drop to his knees and ask you to at least let him eat you out, but he stays put as you drop your pants and climb back on his lap, giving another tug on his tie, your noses touching at the tips. “You are going to pull out, okay?” It's a question masked as a silent order, knowing that just asking him to do that shows how desperate you are for him. He gapes at you, silently nodding before you both hitch a breath as you rock over his lap. He's holding your hip, helping you rise as your arms sling themselves over his shoulders, wrists crossing behind his neck as you look down in his eyes, your eyes closing with a soft sigh as he prods at your entrance until he nods and you sink down on him. It's not his length you feel first, but the burning stretch of his girth as he nudges at your insides.
“Fuck, Steve...” Your forehead presses to his as you drink in the way his brows furrow in pleasure, positively speechless with the way you feel around him. His hands settled on your hips, slowly moving to hug you closer, holding you tightly as he swallows down, forcing his voice to sound as composed as he can muster at the moment. “Move? Please...” And how can you deny when he says it so prettily, those big brown eyes mirroring the lost look in yours. You agree, feeling the burn in your stomach taking over your thoughts as you moan lightly, letting your head roll back as your lip stays stuck between your teeth while you roll and bounce on his cock, switching between the two to please the both of you. Nestling him deep inside of you, you wonder if he'd like to do it again, already feeling the need to have him as yours overpower your logical thinking. Pulling one of your hands back, you tug on his hair, moving his head back as you greedily press your lips to his throat, sucking there a pretty bruise, claiming him for now and for as long as he'll let you have him while your hips rock down over his, letting out a soft moan or a trembling breath each time he nudges at your sweet spot continuously.
You're caught in the moment, your body pressing to his as his hands clench on your hips and waist, holding you flush to him as he tugs the straps of your bra down your arms until he can lower your cups off your breasts, not even bothering to unhook your bra. Looking down at him as his lips close around one of your nipples, your hand slides over his hair, moving it back from his face to see the way his brows are pulled together, whether from focusing on your body or trying not to cum yet, you don't know, watching as his hair flops back in its previous place. “Fuck, you're gorgeous. I'm surprised no one snatched you before me.” You compliment him, too far gone to have a filter to your words. Panting as he wraps his arms around you in a strong hug, you moan as he suddenly moves you down on his lap, his cock burying into you repeatedly as he helps you with moving up and down. Whining as you drop your head back, you feel the hot breaths puffing over your neck and chest as he speeds up, albeit not being able to do much from this position, he helps guide your hips just right as he tenses beneath you. “Close?” Stuttering out a breath, you watch him nod as you confirm that you're close to cumming too. Trembling in his tight hold, your nails dig into his shoulders as you hold onto him for dear life, afraid you'll slip out of his grasp and melt to the floor. Clutching tightly on him as your walls clench down on him, you mutter and whimper his name a few times as your eyes screw shut before he yanks you down off his cock as you greedily chase his hips, watching as he jerks himself off, making a mess all over his fist and stomach, while he moans.
You watch in awe as he comes down from his high, keeping his promise of pulling out. “You're a bad influence.” He remarks with a laugh as you tilt your head and pout playfully. “Me? Never.”
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The following weeks are filled with glances and coy smiles, sneaking around the printer room and after hours for make out sessions like teenagers, yet your adventures never leave the office, the moment you step out of the building is as if nothing happened, and you would be lying if you said that you were fine with it. As much as you loved the thrill of sneaking around, you also wanted him to proudly show you off on dates and whatever cheesy stuff couples do. But you're not sure if he feels the same. Any fool can see that he's slowly but surely falling more and more in love with you each day, from the way his lips twist in a sweet smile between and during kisses, to the way he regretfully lets you go each time you're finished, though his mind desperately tells him to hold onto you in hopes that you'll finally read between the lines and see how much he craves you in an emotional way too. An endless string of flings is nowhere near what he wants with you. His poor heart is not able of bearing it anymore and one day he just blurts out the question.
“What?” You pull back breathless, in the middle of working his pants open as he leans against a rack full of files and papers. You look up at him, swallowing down as you wonder if it's just the heat of the moment that makes him ask that. “Your...girlfriend?” You pause as you sit back on your heels, ignoring the way your knees ache against the hard floor. The bleary look rises to his big brown eyes again, one which you've grown accustomed to over the last few weeks, the way he's slowly crouching to your level, bringing his face to yours making the situation a thousand times more real than before. He asks again, slow and calm as he reads your features carefully. “Do you...want to be my girlfriend? I- I've thought about it for awhile and I couldn't stop thinking about it... taking you out on dates, letting everyone know that you're mine and I'm yours, or-” And just like the first time, you take the first step for the both of you, quickly cutting him off, arms slung around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss that he can't help but melt into. His body leaning back until he falls against the metal framing of the file rack, letting out a groan before both of you both erupt into love-drunk giggles and hug each other tightly, finally feeling at ease now that you can call Steve Harrington your boyfriend.
taglist: @dahliamae : @steveharringtonscarkeys : @livingintheupsidedown :
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ratzskull · 1 month
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I bet Steve would actually be into a lot of different music types. Like the idea of him liking old rock and roll like in S1 when he sings 'Old Time Rock & Roll'. And how he can then talk to Uncle Wayne and Eddie about more alternative music.
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