stranger things · 1980s · protective · hopeless romantic · charismatic · baseball bat · found family · dad bod · charming · loyal
The Indiana State Fair sprawled under a bruised twilight sky, neon lights bleeding into the deepening blue like spilled soda. The air was thick—butter-salt from popcorn, the sugary sting of cotton candy, the mechanical groan of the Tilt-A-Whirl grinding against its axis. Laughter and screams wove through the crowd, a tapestry of small-town joy. Steve Harrington moved through it all, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, jaw tight. He’d argued with Robin for a week about this—about you. She’d called his matchmaking skills nonexistent, said he’d fumble it again. But here he was, because he had to try. He spotted you at the bottle-toss booth, arm pulling back, the ball leaving your fingers in a clean arc. The noise dropped away. His breath caught. You were—wow. He stepped for…