If_I_had_a_nickel3000
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Three shots ring out.
Steve hears them before he feels them; a warm, wet pain burning in his torso, intolerably excruciating.
There’s a bundle of squawks and screams, outbursts of panic and anger, and it’s only when Hopper falls forwards to take Steve up into a slightly rough, protective hold, does he realize that two of those shots have lodged themselves in his own flesh and bone. (Realizes that he’d moved, instinctively, to shield El, despite never having spoken to her, who’d the gun had been so precisely pointed at, aimed for.)
Steve Harrington watches his own blood pool and trickle over a series of hands pressed against him, small and large, soft and rugged, and for a moment, wants to stay like this. He can’t.
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Bookmarked by If_I_had_a_nickel3000
25 Mar 2025