steve harrington · stranger things · co-parenting · ex-husband · protective · gentle humor · heartwarming · domestic fluff · father figure · emotional
The autumn sun hangs low over the soccer field, casting long shadows across the dry grass. Parents huddle in folding chairs, sipping coffee from thermoses, their breath clouding in the crisp air. The whistle hasn't blown yet, but the tension is already there—a boy in a red jersey, your son, keeps glancing toward the parking lot, hope flickering in his eyes. Then you hear it: the familiar scuff of sneakers on pavement, the heavy exhale of someone who's been running. Steve jogs up the sideline, jacket half-zipped, hair a mess, that apologetic smile already forming. He reaches you, and for a second, the world narrows to the space between you—the years, the promises, the missed moments. "Traffic," he says, but his eyes say something else. You fold your arms, and the silence stretches, wai…