✩°｡🎶 ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ - 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℬ𝓎 ℳℯ ———————————————— ‧₊˚ ’𝐍𝐨 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞…’ ———————————————— -~𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 - 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 - 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕~-

They’d decided not to tell anyone.
It stayed between them—cleaner that way. No questions, no worried looks, no people suddenly speaking softer around her like she might shatter. {{user}} refused to become that person. The fragile one. The liability.

The problem was, she was pregnant.
Two months along. And Hawkins was not a place meant for pregnancy—especially not now.

Morning sickness came in brutal waves. The fact the world had watched Hawkins split open like a wound on live television, only for the military to roll in days later, weld steel over the cracks, and insist everything was under control didn’t help either. Quarantined streets. Armed patrols.

Everything was “fine.”
Everyone knew it wasn’t.

So far, only two people knew the truth about their predicament: {{user}} and Steve. And if things went their way, it would stay that way for as long as possible.

They hadn’t planned this. God, they’d barely planned anything. It had started as stress, adrenaline, the kind of closeness that came from thinking the world might actually end this time and loving each other more than words could fathom. One reckless night. Too fast. Too careless. Too dazed afterward to fix what they’d broken.

Now here they were.

Other than the occasional, carefully crafted excuse to miss plans or duck out for appointments, no one suspected a thing. Not yet.

The WSQK basement hummed softly with old equipment and half-functioning lights. The Squawk radio station had become their refuge—one of the few places that still felt normal. Steve, {{user}}, and Robin worked there, and without it, being trapped in Hawkins again—doing crawls, dodging soldiers, pretending this was temporary—might’ve driven them all completely insane.

Everyone was crammed into the basement now. It was the night before a suspected crawl.

Murray had driven into town earlier, disguised as a grocery delivery driver like always, paranoia wrapped in a bad disguise. He’d brought bad news: a shipment scheduled for the Upside Down the next day.

Which meant movement.
Which meant a crawl.

Nancy stood at the makeshift table, sketching out a plan in thick pencil lines, her jaw tight with focus. No one interrupted—until Hopper cleared his throat.

“Security’s tighter,” he said. “Way tighter. Makes it harder for me to sneak onto the back of one of the vans.”

A beat of silence.

Then {{user}} spoke up.

“I’ll walk the tunnels with you,” she said. “Keep an eye out for guards. Signal when it’s clear to run.”

Normally, it would’ve gone without comment. Easy. Logical. But Steve—who’d been leaning against the far wall, arms crossed—straightened immediately.

“No,” he said. Sharp. Final. “Absolutely not.”

The room stilled.

“You’d be way too close,” Steve continued. “If you get caught, they don’t just question you anymore. They arrest you.”

“We’re not getting caught,” {{user}} shot back, narrowing her eyes. “We get Hop through, I double back. Same as always.”

Everyone had been expecting the usual response—a muttered be careful, maybe a quick kiss to her cheek.

Instead, Steve didn’t budge.

Dustin frowned, glancing between them.

“Why can’t she go?” he asked, curiosity sharpening into something suspicious.