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an-americcan-trilogy · 1 month ago

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 🎂 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა 🎀 🧁 ₊˚⊹♡⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆☆ 🍰

#happy 20th to me💖#I love birthdays #all pics from pinterest #my moodboards #elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis the king #elvis fandom #70s elvis #elvis things #elvis aaron presley #birthday moodboard #elvis moodboard #moodboard #moodboards #girlblogging #girlblogger #this is a girlblog #birthday aesthetic

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strawberryspence · 2 years ago

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happy birthday @henderdads! this one's for you my beautiful friend! i am extremely glad you were born! 🍰🥂🥳

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Truthfully, Steve didn't think he'd live past nineteen. He remembers not wanting to get past twenty.

After everything. After having fought and surviving five silent wars, after studying and graduating, after teaching for years, after being a father, a son, a brother and a friend.

After everything. After Steve lived his life the best he could, he settles down.

He settles down in a field, just outside the outskirts of his childhood hometown. It's a small cottage, a few miles away from Hopper's old cabin. It's usually empty now, but it's there when the gremlins want a vacation. When they just want to unplug and find peace.

Somewhere, a few miles down from Steve's, is a tiny hidden house. Its hidden by shades of trees and vines of flowers. Behind it, is Robin and Nancy's cottage. At first, Nancy wasn't really sure about the idea of living in the middle of the forest. But no one— not even her wife— could stop Robin from following Steve to the ends of this world. Now, they live there most of the year, and half they spend in the city.

There's a soft breeze on his face as Steve slowly braids a flower into a crown with shaky hands. It's from the old age, he thinks. But if Robin was here, she would say it's from all the fights. It's muscle memory, as he weaves through the crown. He must've made hundreds of them when Aurora and Arwen was growing up.

Steve's two little princesses. Not that they're little anymore. His little girls are now women. Running about around the country, doing their own things, leaving their marks in this world.

When he finally locks the last end of the stem from the other part, he sighs with relief. The weather is nice. The sun directly hitting him on his face, the wind cascading and making the trees shake. The sound of it so relaxing, his eyes flutter shut. Steve lays his back on the picnic blanket, he knows he'll regret it later, but what the hell?

He thinks about the life he has lived and the life he is still living. Seventeen year old Steve Harrington didn't even think he would reach this age, didn't think he'd ever be this happy. But here he is. Comfortable in his wrinkly skin, happy.

There's leaves crunching as he hears the soft footsteps of someone walking to him.

"Sweetheart."

Steve peeps an eye open, and at first he doesn't see anything but the bright beam of the sun. But the figure moves, blocking the sun and everything in Steve's whole axis stops.

The figure smiles down at him. There's a few more wrinkles on his face when he smiles. The scar on his left cheek is barely even there anymore. His hair tucked into a small bun and when the wind blows, there's tiny wisps of hair that moves along. He's beautiful. He's always been beautiful. It's been more than forty years, and Eddie Munson still leaves him breathless.

There's rustling as Eddie kneels and sits beside him on the picnic blanket, "Sweetheart, I told you not to lay on the ground. Your back is going to hurt tonight. I swear to God if you say a damn word about it."

Steve snickers, holding out a hand so he can get some help to sit up. Eddie glares at him but takes it, helping him to sit up and sag against the trunk of the tree shading them.

"It's my birthday, Eds. I deserve the birthday massage."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, "The birthday massage I gave you this morning wasn't enough?"

Steve feels himself blush, nudging his elbow on Eddie, "Shut up."

Eddie laughs. Open, loud and free. Steve will never get tired of hearing it. He moves closer to kiss Steve's cheek, "I can't believe you still blush over the shit I say. We basically have nine nuggets together, that's more than you wanted."

Steve groans, "Will you ever let the Winnebago thing go?"

Eddie smirks at him, bopping his nose with his finger, "Never."

Steve rolls his eyes, but moves closer to deposit the flower crown he made on Eddie's head. The colorful flowers brighten up his whole face, making him look like an actual prince.

"My prince." Steve whispers as he kisses Eddie. It's a chaste kiss. Soft, wonderful, familiar; his husband's lips.

Steve has lived a life with his husband. It's not really Steve who wanted to settle down and retire in the cottage in the first place. It was Eddie.

When he finally got tired of the glitz and glam of Hollywood. Eddie wanted to run away, to somewhere quiet, to some place they could call their home. Steve found this little cottage for the two of them, because he wants to give Eddie everything. But most of all he wants to give him peace. He still writes a few songs. Because he's the most passionate about that. He usually sells it to some newer, younger singer.

"You want to blow your cake?" Eddie asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. Steve didn't even notice that Eddie was holding a small box.

"You know Dustin will be mad if he finds out, right?" Steve asks, as Eddie pulls out the cake from the box. He helps him though, as Eddie sticks a few candles on the homemade cake.

"Eh. What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Eddie winks at him from behind his glasses. He flickers the lighter open and lights the candles.

The wind gives them mercy for a tiny while. The candle fire sway with the wind but doesn't die.

"Come on, big boy. Make a wish."

Steve watches as Eddie holds up the cake in front of him. There's a message on it, written in messy cursive writing. It says, "Happy 60th Birthday, Steve!"

Steve has spent so many birthdays, waking up to this exact image. Eddie holding up a birthday cake and asking him to make a wish. And though, Eddie's older now, with a few more wrinkles and some white hairs, his eyes will always still be that same shade of brown, the same one Steve stared at and fell in love with as Eddie held a broken bottle against his neck. Steve swears he will never get tired of it.

Steve smiles and blows on his candles.

"What did you wish for, Stevie?" Eddie smiles at him, tender and fond and filled with love.

"If I say it, it won't come true." Steve answers, making Eddie roll his eyes.

"Fine."

From inside the cottage, they hear a familiar voice shouting, "Dad! Papa! I am here! I picked up Auntie Rob on the way over. Cause you know, she's always late."

Even from far away, they can hear the gasp of surprise Robin lets out. "Aurora Eunice Munson-Harrington! You really are your fathers daughter!"

There is a cacophony of laughter and giggling. It sounds just like home.

Eddie turns at him, standing up slowly as he offers his hand to Steve.

"Let's go?"

Steve takes it happily, "Let's go."

As he walks towards his home, he sighs in content.

Steve didn't wish for anything else, not when he has everything he has ever wanted. Instead, he whispers a soft gratitude to whatever Deity decided that he deserves this life.

Steve's just glad he decided to live past nineteen to see— to have— this life made just for him.