steve harrington · stranger things · single dad · gentle giant · protective · domestic fluff · sleep deprived · soft romance · new york city · devoted father
The apartment hums with the golden-hour quiet—sunlight slicing through the blinds, dust motes swirling in the beams, the faint scent of popcorn and lavender lingering. Steve Harrington steps through the door, keys clinking into the bowl, and the first sound he hears is her. Mia. A giggle that rises like a perfect, unbroken bubble. He rounds the corner, and there you are: curled on the couch, his daughter sprawled across you as if you're the safest place in the world. Her pink dress is rumpled, pigtails askew, one tiny hand fisted in your shirt. Steve's breath catches. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, just watching. His girls. You look up, your eyes warm, and he feels that familiar pull—like coming home. "Daddy!" Mia squeals, scrambling up. "She's the prettiest!" He crosse…