#AU Where Steve Lives

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Suddenly, bell bottoms aren't so bad

Bonus sketch, because I had to vv

"Stop checking out my assistant, Stanley."

[harringroveera]

*July 7, 1985, the hospital*

Dustin: You know, if you squeeze this IV, blood comes out of Billy and into the bag

Steve: Henderson, stop that!

[morganbritton132]

Eddie starts a live stream by sticking his head into the living room where Steve is looking for something to watch on Netflix like, “Do you want to go on an adventure with me?”

Steve is reluctant to go because Eddie won’t give him any details about it but ultimately gives in because well, it’s Eddie. His reservations return when he gets in the car and Robin is sitting in the backseat, and when he asks about it Eddie just says that she’s there for ‘damage control.’

Like, “What the hell does that mean? She’s not calming and have you seen her walk? She is the damage.”

“Hey!”

“Rob, I love you but that’s true. She’s here for emotional support.”

“What does that mean?!”

Eddie tells Steve to trust him and Steve gives in because well, again. It’s Eddie.

Steve would accompany Eddie to Mount Sauron, or whatever, any day of the week. So he puts his seatbelt on and gears up the playlist they made for when it’s the three of them in the car, and they drive.

Eddie explains to Steve and to his live-stream that he’s doing an impromptu meet-and-greet at a mystery location. He’ll drop some hints over to the course of the drive and if it’s your area and you can figure it out, come out and meet him.

Steve thinks that’s actually a pretty cool idea and thinks it’s great that Eddie is interacting with his fans again after all the death-threat drama. He pokes Eddie in the arm and tells him, “That’s really cool, babe.”

Eddie flashes him a grin that doesn’t quite gel with the nervous tapping of his fingers, but that thought slips from Steve’s mind when Robin punches him in the arm and points, “Look, cows.”

Steve smiles, “I’m naming that one Kirby.”

“It looks more like a Janine.”

Other highlights of the road trip live stream include the three of them absentmindedly singing along to Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls, the three of them singing passionately to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, rest-stop stopping so Ozzy can get out and run around for a bit, and Steve outlawing Punch Buggy after Robin and Eddie punched him in the arm three times in a row.

The whole time Eddie keeps dropping vague little hints like ‘taking it back to where it all begins’ and ‘we’re treading old territory’ and Steve initially thinks that they’re heading to the bar in Indianapolis where Corroded Coffin was discovered. So maybe he didn’t really pay attention to the rest of Eddie’s clues or maybe he’s really bad at connecting the dots because he feels winded when they come upon the Welcome to Hawkins sign.

He feels increasingly more winded when they turn down streets that have changed a lot but feel the same. He doesn’t notice how the car went quite or how Eddie keeps sneaking glances at him, just the streets they’re taking. Every turn they take that he’d taken a hundred times before.

“Eddie,” Steve breaths out like he’s just taped the pieces to a treasure map together and discovered ‘X’ was home all along. He inhales in time with the click of the blinker as they turn onto Loch Nora, “What’s going on?”

Eddie doesn’t actually answer that question until after they’re parked outside of Steve’s childhood home. He doesn’t answer until after he gets out of the car and circles the other side, and he holds Steve in his arms.

He says, “You told me that you will never work through this thing with your mom until you understand why she’s like this. If she won’t come to you, babe, then you gotta go to her. You gotta do this to get peace.”

Steve is always shaking his head no because he can’t. He can’t just walk up to her door after twenty years and asks her for an explanation. He doesn’t even know how he’d – he doesn’t –

Eddie tilts Steve’s head up until they’re eye to eye and he tells him like he can hear all those half-formed questions in his head, “You are Steve fucking Harrington, baby. You fight monsters and you save the world, and you are brave beyond words. There are worst things out there than this, so you got this. You can do this.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” Eddie continues. “But it has never been easy, and… This is it, babe. This is the last battle you got to fight and then we leave it all behind. I’m sorry I tricked you, but you wouldn’t have come if I told you.”

Steve takes a deep breath and then another, and maybe a third. He shakes the nerves out of his fingers and he hugs Eddie as tight as he can without hurting him, and he says because he knows he’ll mean it later, “Thank you.”

“Take Oz with you,” Eddie tells him and kisses him in broad daylight like he was never able to do on this street. He tells Steve that his meet-and-greet is at high school, and that Robin’s going to stay here with the car, that they’re going to Hopper and Joyce’s after, “If you need anything, call me immediately.”

Eddie stays with Robin to watch Steve walk up to the door and knock. He doesn’t move an inch until the door is answered, and then he smiles at Robin, “That went better than expected, right?”

Robin asks, “Did you end your live stream?”

“Shit.” 

[morganski-19]

Robin passes Steve's room blaring the 1989 rerelease while she hears Steve violently sobbing. She goes straight to the living room and sees Eddie sitting unbothered while watching TV.

"Did you break up with Steve so he can listen to a new Taylor Swift album the right way again?"

Eddie's eyes go wide. "No, he said I didn't need to do that for this one. Why, is it bad."

"Come here," Robin makes a motioning wave of her hand while they go and stand outside of the door.

I said "I love you" You say nothin' back Why'd you have to lead me on? Why'd you have to twist the knife Walk away and leave me bleedin'

"Oh, that's rough," Robin whispers under her breath.

"Should I check on him?"

"I think the song is on repeat, so maybe."

Eddie knocks quietly on the door before opening it slightly. "Hey, baby. You need anything?"

Steve is cry singing the words into his pillow as a response. Eddie turns around and shrugs at Robin, unsure of what to do. Robin shrugs back. Eddie walks up to the bed and rests a hand on Steve's shoulder, letting him know he's there while pausing the song.

"How long have you been listening to this song, baby?"

"Like five times," Steve mumbles into the pillow.

"Do you want me to stay or do you need a little more time by yourself?"

Steve rolls over, showing the wet stains on his pillow. "One more time, then you should come in."

"Ok, I'll be right outside if you need me before then."

Eddie shuts the door quietly before sliding down the wall next to Robin. They sit there silently as the song starts playing again. "So he's feeling some things," Eddie starts as Steve starts to sing to it again.

"Thank god they're on good terms right now or she would be getting some really intense messages right now."

"Honestly she still might be."

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 13: Snow Day

Steve was so cozy, so warm and toasty. Sleep was pulling him back under when his evil, cruel and mean boyfriend decided to jump on him!

"Edward fucking Munson, what the fuck."

"Stevie, my sweet love, I wish fucking was my middle name, but get up, it's snowing!"

Ok, maybe his boyfriend was actually very cute and adorable and could be forgiven for rudely waking him up barely past 6. Both the boys had been waiting for today, sharing an enthusiasm for the frozen crystal delights.

Snow days had been a favourite of Eddie's growing up; there was no school, and everyone wanted to play, even with the freak. Wayne had built him a sled his first winter with him, and he fondly remembered spending hours going down the hill behind the trailer park.

Steve's memories of snow days weren't so happy. Snow days meant being stuck at home with his parents if they were around, and his mother never let him play in the snow, not wanting him to come in wet. His first real snow day had been with Robin the previous year, who goaded him into ambushing the kids into a snowball fight.

A winter coat pulled over their pyjamas, the boys huddled outside and watched the first few flecks of white fall down around them. The cold air was already reddening their cheeks, and the snowflakes littered their hair, but it was perfect.

"Thanks for waking me, Eds."

Eddie's fingers tightened around Steve's as he smiled at him, "No one I'd rather share it with, sweetheart."

Ao3

[emily-mooon]

Jonathan in my Itakiss AU:

[jackiequick]

Jennie Rue Woods — Marvel’s Timeless Gal 📝

MARVELOUS AU — Auntie JJ

Full name: Jennifer Ruth Underwoods

Other Identity: Jeanie Woods

Nicknames: Jen, Jennie, Jeanie, Jean, Ruthy, Rue, JJ, Dollface, Barbie, Quinnie, Fefe

Age: 28–32 (87 years of age)

Birthday: June 30, 1923 (Cancer)

Height: 5’5 (5’7 in heels)

Occupations: Waitress, Coffee Girl, SSR Sectary, Agent, Widow, Mama Bear, Assistant

Alias: Alexa Bowmen, Paige McKenna, Jacquline Stark, London Holloway, Olivia Erhart, Eliza Pearson, Emily King, Barbra James Scott, Ashlee Lance

Family:

- Parents, Alexander & Fran Underwood (dead)

- Older Sister, Dolores Marie Underwood (dead to her)

- Sister, Peggy Carter (the big sister she never had)

- Brother Figures, Jack Thompson & Daniel Sousa (her boys)

- Howard & Maria Stark (her found family)

- Anthony Edwards Stark (her nephew #1)

- Rei Stark ( #1 godchild )

- And list goes on!

Relationship status: Single, but has dated and been engaged once

—————

Personality: Jen is a sarcastic goofball with a heart of gold despite all the crap she been through in life. On occasion she is spirited, stubborn and determined. Not just that, she’s quick-witted with a sharp tongue. However she is very kindhearted, a little slow at times but she’ll get there, she can get distracted very easily at times and motherly to those around her.

Due to being on her own for a good part of her life, she ended up being observant and trying to be resourceful. She has a knack for getting information without raising suspicion and being sneaky for the most part.

Style:

Evie has a vintage and classy style, often seen in 1940s-inspired dresses, with a touch of modern flair. Her wardrobe reflects her independent spirit and love for classic fashion. Even as she progresses over the decades she stays with a simple yet gentle sense of fashion as a way to blend in with the crowd.

Skills:

Proficient with weapons, particularly guns.

Basic combat

Previously worked as a nurse during WWII, honing her medical skills.

Quick thinker, adapts well to challenging situations.

Handle a control panel

Design and disguise

———————————————

—Background:

Jen grew up in a decent sized house with a Russian father and a Italian-American mother, along with her older sister Dottie. When it came to both children, their parents loved them both the exact same.

However, behind the smiles and glittering eyes on both daughters held an small rivalry that over time.

Dottie was always the one-upper of the pair, acting like she knew more and always one step ahead of everything. Hell, Dottie enjoyed having her nose in her young sister’s business, ignoring her most of the day, parenting her like she was a second-mother and treating her sister, Jen, like a pest that she couldn’t stand.

But Jen wasn’t far behind either, as she rather enjoyed sometimes sticking her nose in older sister’s business, taking her sweater without asking and bugging her with whatever new thing she was obsessed with at the moment. The difference was that Jen knew her limits, as she held a fear behind her smile when it came to Dottie, often intimated by her status and rude attuned attitude.

It didn’t help that both ladies couldn’t be more different when it came to their interests.

In result, it often led to plenty of bickering, fighting over every single thing possible and barking off more than they can chew.

However, it all came to a sudden pause when their father Alexander was overseas with Dottie to Russia saying they had business to attend to. Her mother only simply nodded and hugged them both watching them drive away, before entering the house to continue her daily task, asking Jen to follow behind.

The girl was confused on the matter and questioned the trip later that night. Her mother, Fran, simply told her that Dottie was one of the few girls signed off to train and becomes a skilled fighter.

Saying that one day, Jennifer might get her turn to do the same but the young blonde refused the idea. She rather stay home, be a kind young lady, fall in love, paint all the gardens in the fields and learn what she needs to in America. She visited Russia before, as she always found it to be colder and unassuming to her likely.

Whatever Dottie was doing, Jennifer wanted no part of it.

Thankfully, with a small sigh, her mother agreed to her dreams and kissed her cheek.

Years later, Jennifer would learn what her sister was doing and fought to not follow the same path. She had to desire to become a skilled fighter in Mother Russia and train to be become an assistant to The Red Room. But faith had other plans, as her parents promised her to do a trail run, live in Russia and educate herself into getting certificate of achievement.

Just for a few short months. 3 months.

With a deep sigh and small grunt, she did so as promised. In The Red Room, she was made to watch videos on culture, read books, take any notes and practice her knowledge on what she already knows. Not just that, Jennifer was brought in to take up a couple of activities such as dance, carefully handle weaponry, learning basic combat and drive a vehicle, if she ever needs to hot-wire and getaway.

Jennifer wouldn’t admit it but a small part of her enjoyed watching the women in those rooms all move in one single motion like trained dancers, ready to performance for a show on stage, and she was in the front row getting a glimpse of the sight.

She looked over her shoulder as a tall shadow took behind her, she gulped assuming it was one of the teachers ready to shout in her face for sneaking out of her bedroom this late in the afternoon, but instead it was her older sister.

“What?” She grunted out, spinning to face the taller blonde.

The tall blonde held a slinging smirk, “Nothing. Like what you see?”

“You’re new high ponytail or the performance?”

“Both, Fefe.”

“Don’t fall me that. What do you want?”

“Just want to know if my baby sister is enjoying it here?”

“You mean having my wrist cuffed to the bed, being held in a isolated room twice a week with no windows and a locked door? Oh yeah, I love it.” She repiled with a sarcastic tone.

Dottie grinned, “And having me here as a upper classmen.”

“Yeah…that. When are you gonna realize you’re just as insane to enjoy this, Dot? You love it here and actually find it trilling. I don’t.”

“Oh, Fefe, when are you gonna realize that with this opportunity you can be just like me? With grace and perfection.”

“That’s my point. I am not like you and I will never be like you. And when my time is up, I won’t be seeing you ever again.”

And Jennifer was right.

She was out of the building soon enough, in hopes to keep her head down and never have to be stuck in a place like that again. But Dottie did warn her as a hard heavy threat, one day, they will try and offer you a deal, snatched her up and order her to work for them.

Jennifer grunted and hoped with her luck, she wouldn’t. However, as lucky as she was with never being dragged there again, she did have Dottie reappear later on her life once or twice just for add measure…

—————————————

📰~The 1940s~ 💡

Plenty years past since those 3 sleepless months within that building and Jen couldn’t be more pleased with herself to be blessed to see a new path her way.

She was living in New York City, Queens as a waitress and painting on the side. She enjoyed painting the city skyline, the people in the park and her favorite flowers whenever possible. She was what many called her, a cartoonist. And her job wasn’t so bad either, yes the clients can be rude and annoying at times, but she made it work.

And her uniform was her biggest perk of her job. The simple teal-blue dress, her white headband, brown flats and her cute pins over her apron.

It was good, also with the fact she clocked out early to visit the fair, as everyone was there to see all the new attractions, men getting tested to see if they’re qualified for the war, people going dancing and much more. One evening, she found herself reading the newspaper wondering the fair, enjoying the sights, getting a drink and eventually standing in the crowd to see the main attraction.

Howard Stark. The Expo.

Little did she know that the man on that stage would change her life, by becoming apart of it.

She laughed, awed and smiled during the show. Even catching glimpses of his young sibling on stage, who eventually joined him.

She looked over her shoulder noticing a ‘help wanted’ signed stamped over a couple of posters, removing one of the tickets and followed to the small building to see what can could apply for. It seemed with the war going on, they need volunteers to help nurse the men on the field and inside buildings. Jennifer thought for a moment, onto her decision but then realized that it was worth it to help the good wanting to men serve their country.

Two weeks laters, she was working as a volunteered nurse. She got tested, signed off and given new uniform to wear. When a certain doctor asked for her name, it seemed like he missed heard it, as he wrote down a different name under her paperwork.

Instead of Jennie Underwood, he put down ‘Jeanie Wood’.

Jen didn’t know if it was on purpose it or not, but it taken her by a surprise at the name. The last person to give her a similar name like that was her 5th grade English teacher, yet she wasn’t complaining. She liked it, a lot.

And if she had to admit, she enjoyed it more than she expected, making friends with the other nurses, checking on the vitals of men and women, along with cleaning their wounds. It’s also when she met Miss Margaret “Peggy” Carter, who came in to recruit some nurses for an experimental program to help out the war, as she was handpicked to do so.

To say, Peggy Carter wowed Jen was an understatement. The women was kind, fierce, charming, witty, a little sassy, had a stronghold on her role here and cared for others. It surprised her how Peggy took a liking to her during those days spent on the job.

That same week, she met Howard Stark as he was preparing for the super solider experiment that she was apart of. The moment Howard met her, he was dazzled, in awe and flirting with the blonde. That was the first time Jennie ever actually blushed and smiled, turning her face to hide her blush from Howard’s darling compliments and witty comments.

Howard simply smiled at her blushing and went off to finish preparing his equipment for the day, before offering to buy her lunch. His tongue accidentally slipped nicknaming her ‘JJ’ for short. Jennie hesitated as she removed her gloves after preparing the equipment and serum with the other nurses needed for tomorrow. One of the nurses nudged her to say ‘yes’ as Jennie just smiled and nodded, following the brunette out the door.

The following day, she met Steve Rogers, as she was there helping to performance the processor and watching the man transform from a skinny kid to a tall solider. But the cheers and awes were cut short as Dr. Erskine died, causing Jennie to remove a gun off the table aiming at the person who fired the shot, but missed by a close second as the man ran out the door. Before she can get a second to blink, Steve and Peggy raced out the door to follow him. Jennie stayed behind to help, get Dr. Erskine to a more comfort position and calm down the crowd.

After that whole event, things were put back into swings as the war went on, Steve became Captain America serving his country, Peggy was brought to help, along with Howard and Jennie to do their part in serving for the better of their playing field.

Once again, she was given a slight change of clothing instead of white, it was light browns and a dark brown jacket to watch.

Jennie was put to work, not as a volunteered nurse, but a someone who helped with the design and coordinates for any trips. She put her skills to some use, which made her smile. Soon enough, the war ended per say in some victorious cheers and others in sorrows for the ones they lost.

When Steve Rogers went down in the plane, after speaking to Peggy on the radio as their side of the speakers cut to static, Jen was the first to enter the room and pull the English brunette into an tight embrace.

———————

💭 ~Meetings and revisiting the past~📑

Once the war ended, Peggy and Jen stayed friends, keeping Howard in touch of course. As both were brought to working in New York City at The SSR (which would later on become SHIELD), Peggy worked at an assigned sectary despite her endless response to her being able to do more. Daniel Sousa saw more in her, which made the women smile at the thought and respect she got from him.

Meanwhile Jen didn’t mind it being the coffee girl/assistant at the SSR, basically a sectary with a nicer name. It gave her a flexible schedule most days, other days she was spent working later hours at her desk.

Thankfully she had Agent Jack Thompson to keep her company, despite his personality, the man saw Jennie as a little sister whenever she entered the building. As if he wanted to shield her from harm and have her stand back from the tough stuff, even through she reminds him that she seen men come back from the war wounded or worse.

Jack would sometimes buy her burger if they knew everyone was gonna be working a late night. He would often bicker with her and Peggy as the English women rolled her eyes, but Jen would respond by saying that it seems like Thompson has a crush on Carter. Which results in Peggy chuckling at the blonde women.

Things were going fine until Howard Stark was wanted for crimes against the country, recruiting for Peggy to help find the truth and prove him innocent. She even entrusted his butler Edwin Jarvis to asset her with the investigation.

In which Jennie met while she was getting herself coffee one morning at the diner where she used to work as a waitress, ordering Mr. Jarvis a coffee.

Mr. Jarvis smiled and thanked for, offering to pay for her donut as an exchange. They soon became friends after that. Little did Jarvis know that Jennifer would become good friends with his lovely wife, Ana, too.

Jennifer didn’t want any to be thrown too far into the mix of things, as she eventually joined to the two Brits on their investigation.

Especially after the plot thicken, she started to be thrown in for a loop as The SSR all visited Russia and reunited with The Howling Commandos, finding themselves in a building that once held many men and women who were spies.

The beds with handcuffs, weird therapists, scientists and much more on that visit to Russia. At one point, Jen froze as she stayed rubbing her wrist at the sight, as it took A Howling Commando to drag her out of the rooms. Hell, some of their own agents froze at the sights, meanwhile others stayed strong during the fight.

On the plane ride home, Jen started to let Peggy in on why she froze, but not everything, as Peggy held the blonde close. Jen was given flashbacks to those 3 months in Mother Russia, the trips she went on and how during the war she remembered the men she had to nurse coming home lost to confused.

But the biggest punch to the grunt was when she saw her older sister on the streets of NYC, under some false name living at The Griffith Hotel for Women, pretending to be some new lady here and wanting to go sightseeing. It made her sick, especially since Dottie got closer to Peggy and watched her baby sister from afar, with sneaky eyes to see her next move.

That’s when everything made sense to Jen.

Dottie was here undercover working for someone who was framing Howard Stark and having everyone turn against the man. Peggy didn’t fully believe Jennie at first when she came in with her claims, Jack Thompson nor Daniel Sousa did either, but soon enough the truth came into full force.

As one could imagine things took a turn for people at The SRR, as they close in on Howard Stark, the true enemies are revealed and much more to everyone involved. As they planned to draw out the real threat, The Leviathan.

But it goes awry when Dottie Underwood distract the agents while Stark is kidnapped, as her boss uses hypnosis to make Howard drop as gasp he invented called “Midnight Oil” to onto Time Square.

Thankfully with Jarvis’s help, they all found them just in time. Jack Thompson and Daniel Sousa handled The Leviathan, who’s name was Johann Fennhoff. Meanwhile Jennie, Jarvis and Peggy handled Dottie, while also trying to convince Howard to not drop the gas over Time Square.

To say Dottie was excited to see her sister again in full swing and having a thrilling fight with Peggy was an understatement.

However this time, Jennie wasn’t too frightened to fight her sister again, as she found strategy and strength in herself to be more confident. It was a bigger perk, that this time around, she had Peggy who was more than intrigued to battle Dottie after their last encounter.

In the end, things were brought to light, they defeated Dottie (who escaped), the right people were imprisoned with scheming with Zola and everyone was given a chance to breath once again.

But like always, life for Jen didn’t stop there as she moved to Los Angeles for her next adventure…

————————

🦅~The 50s—60s~ 🕰️

In 1956, things were looking swell for Jennie as she was working for SHIELD in Los Angeles as an agent. She had her own office, meetings scheduled, kept designing models, going out to dinners and the occasional trip for sizable missions.

She discovered she had a little love for the unknown, collecting items, designing, doing presentations and going on trips to report new things back to SHIELD headquarters.

She was the one to design the SHIELD logo and style of the front over the years after all. Her and Howard liked with idea of an eagle with spread wings.

-> Eagles with its keen eyes symbolized courage, healing, hope, vision, resilience and most importantly strength.

However one late spring night, everything flipped on it’s head for Jennie. It was one of their agent’s bridal shower and she was invited to join in the celebration, free drinks and food, of course she was coming.

Yet, she was soon about to regret that trip.

She was driving home in one of SHIELD’s invented cars, that was had a working mentor that connected to the battery phone. She was on the phone was Jarvis’ wife, Ana, talking about how wonderful her weekend was, crossing a simple long bridge, when a light shower of rain started to fall from above. It wasn’t anything unusual, the weather did call for a light shower that weekend, but what took her by surprise is the springing dose of snowflakes.

“Uh, Ana, I’ll have to call you back…” She said, hanging up the phone and hanging it back where it belong.

It was simply magical to such a sight, however it went from beauty to a beast wanting the snowflakes became a slamming balls of hail hitting the car as she started to carefully hurry along the bridge. However the road soon became dangerous, causing her to swirl off the path and hitting the railing as her car went flying and smash into the water.

The faint sounds of the phone could be heard, ringing with a voice on the other end as the car drowned into the large body of water. In the car, Jennifer was silent with bruises and cuts all over her body, her forehead held a large cut that was covered by blood.

Her breathing stopped as her heartbeat slowed down in seconds, her core body temperature dropped greatly. At that very moment her heart stopped beating.

At 8:55pm, a blot of lighten struck the car. The volts of electricity impact was more than strong enough to reset the heart into a clear rhythm. Jeanie Woods—Jennie Underwoods body slowly lifted from the lower end of the car to regain its awareness. Her head rushed to the surface, jolting out of her anoxic state, causing her to draw her first breath in 4 minutes.

Cough and breathing heavy, Jennie regain memory of recent events, using all her skilled strength within her to carefully climb out of the car, knocking the side door open capturing the cool air that surrounding her.

She breathed heavily, spreading outside of the side door and swimming forwards to the surface, finding a pot of greenery in the cold depths of the night. Once she climbing onto the grass, rolling over as she let her back hit the grass such a reliving impact. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened it once again to watch the snowy sky fall onto her cool skin.

Well, she was screwed.

Thankfully she crawled onto her feet and found the nearest gas station, entering a phone booth to call Jarvis to pick her up. And being the good friend he was, the man arrived with a blanket as well, bringing to his house to stay the night. She explained to Jarvis the accident, planning on trying to recall everything she could remember to have it on record of that night and how the car was totaled in the process, but the man didn’t care as long as she was safe and sound.

As the years went, she credited her appearance to a healthy diet, often exercising, skin care, good genes and just plain luck. However actions was required only months laters when she was pulled over for a minor traffic infraction.

“Ma’am, it says here that you were born in 1923.” Said the officer.

“That’s right, officer.” She repiled with a kind smile.

“That would make you 40?”

“Yes. I look young for my age.”

“Ma’am I might have to hold onto this.”

The two talked by the man didn’t look so convinced, asking to come by the station tomorrow if possible and to bring her birth certificate.

That’s when she knew she needed to start packing, calling up family and making a few adjustments to her life. That’s when she moved back to New York City for a while, keeping her job within SHIELD, but taking up studies for medicine to research her condition, talks with other scientists.

But they all slowly came to the conclusion that it seems like there was no results for her condition, despite the records, recalling of events and etc.

It happened again where officers would stop the women and question her appearance, age and name. Even tried to take her into the station, as she would always do what she must to get out of it, even call up a friend for witness.

Packing up once again, making a couple of whole calls and planes to drive off somewhere off the grid of neither New York or LA, she found herself in San Diego instead. Making sure that Peggy, Howard, Jarvis and their friends know what to do, if anyone contract them, remove any records and to do something about the officers who taken her originally.

In result, Jennie Woods went on to change her name, keep her files close to her chest, residence and appearance the best she could every decade. And to never speak a true word of her fate to answer living soul (unless they were family of course).

To her relief, as the years went on things calmed down and she was less frequently questioned, however she would get wondering eyes at work.

——————

——————————————————————

🐤~Auntie JJ~ 🪿

-> May 29th, 1970 her nephew Anthony Edward Stark was born.

The day she held that tiny will soul in her arms, she knew she would love him til her dying days. She would take care of him, spoil the boy, and make sure he knew he was loved, even if she wasn’t there everyday to see him.

And that she did.

In the 70s, Maria and Howard knew they would need a pair of helping hands, aside from Jarvis, as they offered for the women to live with them. And of course, she said yes.

Jennie was there every step of the way and she loved it. Watching Tony grow up, taking his first step, first words, teaching him to read and write. Hell, when he was old enough, Tony would draw her so many drawings that she hang up in her office showcasing her godson’s work.

There were plenty of days and nights where neither of his parents were around as work and events took up their time, so in result if she was free, Jennie would do it.

“..’So after Lisa sewed on the missing button, she gave Corduory a big hug.’ The End. Now it’s time for my little bear to go to sleep.” She said closing the book with a smile.

Usually the 7 year old would give her a sleepy remark but after the long day he had, he decided against it. He rolled onto his side getting comfy.

“Auntie JJ?” He yawned in his small voice.

“Yes baby?” She asked standing up and putting the book back on his bookshelf.

“Would you always love me like Lisa love Corduroy?”

Jennie paused what she was doing as a small smile appeared on her lip at the question, she turned out and kneeled over the bed, placing a hand above Tony’s small cheek. Her warm touch smooth his worries.

“Of course I will, bubba” She replied and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He smiled in returned, “Can we have pancakes tomorrow?”

“We will have to see. But first night night.”

“Night night.”

She gave him one more smile watching as his eyes closed, pulling his blanket closer. When she knew it was clear to leave, she gently closed the door behind her and escaped to the living room to watch a rerun of The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

Midway through the episode, she paused the taping and through back onto what Tony asked her earlier. She looked down at her lap, playing with the throw pillow in hand and sighed deeply. She knew why he asked that question, with his parents getting busier as the day goes by, especially at such a young age, it makes sense Tony would wonder if the adults in his life still love him.

And she meant what she said earlier, this unconditional love she has for her nephew is true. She adores that tiny little troublemaker, even if she sometimes drives him nuts, it’s one of the reasons she cares for him. He’ll keep on learning , as time slips through her fingers watching him grow up.

She knew she will be always try to be there for him, even if she’s in a different city, she’s only one call away.

And she was right.

Tony’s auntie JJ is there for him every time she can be. The smallest moments and his biggest. His graduations, his first true inventions, taking him out for ice cream, reading him bedtime stories, making him bacon on his birthday, the two of them sneaking off to watch movies late at time and the list goes on.

Hell, if she’s in the same room and near by, JJ is there to poke and pinch Tony when he says something he isn’t supposed to. Which results in him yelling a small, “Ow!” As she’ll give a smile in return or a certain look to tell him to quit it.

There are moments that his aunt JJ would have a date pick him and Tony would try to question his intentions with his aunt. Little did she know her godchild Rei would be the same way in the future. Every single one of her dates biggest haters.

———————

—Likes:

Mysteries, romance and detective novels

Waking up late

Coffee (of course!)

Classic movies from the golden era & sitcoms

Vintage fashion and style

Baking

Jewelry

Design

Painting & Drawing

Donuts

The sun setting

—Dislikes:

Narrow-mindedness

Cold coffee

Being underestimated or misjudged

Chaos in the house

Being underdressed or overdressed for an event

Sitting still for too long

Big Crowds

Closed spaces

Horror movies (however she enjoyed CW’s Supernatural)

Hiking

Fast rides

—Languages:

- Fluent in Spanish and English.

- Russian and Italian

- And some French

——————-

—Additional information:

- Jennie has a couple of scars, some small and some are a little big

- She tends to wear reading glasses or sunglasses at a lot

- You can sometimes find her on the couch wearing her earbuds listening to her favorite songs or binge watching a series on her IPAD

- As said before she likes jewlery, so in result you can find her wearing rings, earrings and sometimes necklaces. Such as her charm bracelet she got as a gift back in the 80s from a old friend

- She has traveled a lot over the years, sometimes she been a place more than once or even lived there. As well, as she met a couple of likely faces too

- Due to trying to keep up her energy and stamina levels, when it came to changing her appearance Jennie always tried to have a little fun. Such as dying her hair different a color, giving herself a new haircut, buying statement pieces that seemed timeless and testing out makeup to make her blend in with the crowd

- When it comes to makeup, she tries to keep it rather simple (she used to wear a lot of over the years but it resulted in some acne)

- When she’s under stress or filled in anxiety while in public spaces, she tends to play with her nails, add pressure to her inner palm, rubbing her wrist, wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans and etc

~~~~

~~~~~~

—That’s all folks! I wanted to add more detail about her but then it would’ve been wayyyy too long of a ride 😅

Anyways pls let me know what you think! Remember to like, comment and share

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @cherrysft @xgoddessoffandomsx @rickb-chaos @starkleila @infinetlyforgotten @meiramel @sherloquestea @parisparker269 @djs8891 @buckysteveloki-me @yetanotherwells @nakiaswg @carellmcu @ximehs

[thatgirlwithasquid]

SCREAMING— so um. uh— just realised the best thing about my wolfblood au is that i get to use this angsty banger of a line

billy, to steve: *through tears* one day, when im older and no one cares what i do, im gonna find you… im gonna find you

[brainrot-stitch]

The King is here 🔥 🔥

(Also click on image for better quality it looks so trash otherwise 😭)

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XVI: You’ll Cry But You’ll Never Fall

nav | masterlist | playlist | pinboard | chapter XV | get on the taglist!

summary: The secret hometown Corroded Coffin / Death Dance Approximately show does not go as smoothly as any of you would like, and the memories of Hawkins infiltrate your memories again.

tags: ANGST (more than usual?), violence, swearing, excessive alcohol consumption, fighting/arguing, trauma talk, overall just a very sad chapter imo but i’m also very proud of it.

a/n: this is my lil honor to sinéad, my heart goes out to her family and i’m so very upset to hear of her passing. This chapter is also one of the heavier ones, please feel free to skip it or read it slowly if it feels like too much. thank you guys for your continued support as always. ALSO, im seeing a lot of blog name changes and deactivations, so please let me know if you aren’t getting notifications and want to! i’ll see to fixing the taglist for next time 🩷 Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

—

October 1987

“Can I show you something?” Eddie stumbles into bed, his Warlock in his grip, a bowl of chips in the other hand.

“Of course, my love.” You pluck a chip from the bowl, shifting your body to face Eddie as he sits beside you. His fingers dance across the chords, and you sway as he begins to sing. When he finishes, you look at him in awe. “Is it done?”

He nods, eagerly. He’s been fighting with this song for almost a year, and you can tell he’s so proud of himself. It makes what you’re about to say that much more difficult. “May I?” You extend your hand, and he nods, handing you his guitar. You know the chords well enough by now to play it, and you start in with your eyes closed. “What if, instead of a major chord, you used a minor?” You play it again with your revision. “And what if, instead of Don’t let go, you could say don’t let go of me?” You sing the line for him, and watch as his face contorts, brows furrowing, lips pursed. You stop. “Or not, it’s beautiful regardless.” Suddenly, you’re embarrassed for even suggesting it.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just mad you made it so much better in two seconds.” He scoffs, and you can tell he’s upset.

“I didn’t mean to overstep, ali know this song has been kicking your ass, as just thought-“

“It’s fine, Y/n, really. Forget about it.” He takes his guitar from you, and leans it on his side table. Before you can say anything else, he’s turned the light off and pulled the covers up to his chin. no goodnight kiss, No I love yous exchanged.

-

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

He makes his way back to the dressing room, which is more of a closet behind the curtains of the small stage. He’s comfortably drunk, aching still with the words he’d overheard earlier as Sinéad O’Connor’s Drink Before The War floats through the speakers. You and Steve stand backstage, him adjusting your mike pack while you fiddle with your in-ear, the rest of your band tightening their instruments or twirling their drumsticks while you talk amongst yourselves. “Eddie!” You call, before he can open the door and slide by you, unnoticed. “C’mere a sec?”

Begrudgingly, he approaches you. You’re draped in a black skirt that sweeps the floor, and a black velvet tank top that shimmers when the light hits it. “Lilith had an idea, and I know this is so last minute, but what would you think about doing the song we wrote together? I know it’s probably too rusty for you, but I figure it could be a treat, for the little hometown show? It’s alright though, if you don’t wanna.” You shrug, but something in your eyes pleads with him.

“Sure, yeah.” He says coolly, confused by the question. Why would you want to, after what you’d said? “Where should we put it, in the set?”

“Was thinking, at the end of DDA’s, we have less time, but we have the room for it. D’you still know the chords?”

He fights off a humorless laugh. “‘Course I do. Just gimme the signal, and I’ll be right out. But we don’t have lyrics.” You nod, beaming, “Oh, but I do! I’ve been mulling them over, I hope that’s alright?”

The panic is palpable, he has no idea what he’s in for. “‘Course it is. See you out there.” He gives a curt nod before turning away, entering his dressing room without another word.

-

Your POV

“He’s being weird, right?” You turn to Steve, who’s just finished fluffing your hair out into the disheveled, rocker look you love.

“Of course he is, he’s Eddie. Now, get out there! They’re excited to have you back home.” He’s right, you can hear the restless crowd growing louder, more excited as your set time inches closer. “DDA! DDA!” The chant crescendos, and the house lights dim.

“Break a leg,” Steve plants a kiss on the crown of your head, and you wrap your arms around him. “and kick some ass.”

You turn to your band for the huddle, the pre show ritual, and let Sylvie lead the way to the stage. The crowd erupts as you take your marks, pressing out across a stage half the size of what you’ve grown used to this past month.

“HAWKINS, INDIANA!” You exclaim, drowned out by the audience as Lilith starts a drumroll. “We are Death Dance Approximately, from right down the street, are you ready to fucking PARTY?!” The response is a cacophony of screaming, just the way you like it.

“One, two, three, four,” Lilith taps her sticks together, and you jump into your first song. You open with Indiana, an ode to home, and you feel the weight float from your shoulders. The house is packed, and you recognize a face every few minutes, whether from school or just around town. Your friends are occupying a table on the side of the stage, and you can barely make out their faces. They dance and sing along though, and at some points you’re sure you hear Max’s whistle. It’s electric, rewarding to have people there for you, that know your songs, love your band. It reminds you why you started in the first place, despite the pain you’d endured on your way up.

-

“Thank you for coming out tonight, Hawkins! We have one more song for you before we introduce our friends in Corroded Coffin. This was a last minute decision, but before we play the song we know you’re all waiting for, could you please give a warm, freaky welcome to Coffin’s very own EDDIE MUNSON!” No amount of preparation prepares you for the screaming. The building must be shaking with the vibrations as Eddie saunters onto the stage, spotlight shining directly on him. His acoustic guitar is slung over his shoulder, and he wears a tattered DDA shirt and torn up black jeans, his converse laced tightly on his feet. He waves to the crowd, squinting into the bright stage lights. He wobbles slightly, and you know he’s drunk, but you have faith in his performance ability regardless.

“This song is one I wrote with Eddie years ago, and this is the first time we’re ever performing it. Please forgive us if it’s not so polished, but revel in the fact that you’re the first crowd that gets to hear it!” The audience responds with applause, and you glance at Eddie. His eyes are glued to the floor, not looking at you at all, so you turn back to Lilith who counts you off.

Eddie starts in with the opening melody, much softer than any song CC has put out, but still with the hard bite that persists within their catalog. You begin the ad libs, ones you love to play with live that can’t be recreated in the studio. The crowd sways with you, and glimmers from their lighters each the sky as you start the first verse.

“I’ve seen my share of gore and pain, enough to last my lifetime. / I wonder how you’re coping now that you’ve got that hurt inside. / I’d ask you how you’re doin’, but I know that you’d just lie, / and I’d bother you to open up, / if I thought it worth our time. / But you’ve been off drinkin’ down the hurt and pain we’d felt, / and I'm stuck circling the drain alone, keeling over as I melt.

Six years of shit, and dirt, and blood / caked under our fingernails, / and all I've got to show for it are these twisted, evil tales. / So all I ask is don’t let go, / don’t let go of me, / and all I want is for you to know / that you’re still the one for me.”

You don’t open your eyes the whole time, and you know you’re in for it when you do. You’re sure he’s caught on by now, the lyrics far from subtle, but still you can’t bring yourself to watch his reaction to them, instead focusing on your voice not breaking as he plucks the strings only three feet away. When the song ends, the crowd shrieks and it’s all you can hear. Eddie waves to the kids at the barricade, mouthing thank yous as they clap for him before approaching you. You entwine your fingers with his, swinging both your arms first into the air, then down to the floor as you both bow. He squeezes your hand before letting go, walking offstage without a word to the audience.

“Eddie Munson, everyone! I know you’re all very excited to see Corroded Coffin tonight, but we got one more song for ya, is that alright?” When the whooping fizzles out, Sylvie strums the opening to Pretty Boy, and it gets loud again. “This song is for, well, if you know you know. It’s called Pretty Boy!”

-

Eddie’s POV

He makes a beeline for the mini fridge, cracking open a beer before even saying a word to his bandmates. “You good?” Gareth raises an eyebrow, watching his bandmate down the bottle without a breath in between.

Eddie belches before snapping, “What makes you think I’m anything but perfectly fine?”

“Oh, just, everything.” He mumbles, but Eddie hears him anyway.

“What’s up with you, man? Aren’t you two on good terms now?” Jeff asks, plopping down on the arm of the sofa next to Eddie, who’s sprawled in the middle like an old rag doll.

“I have no idea. Thought we were, but I overheard them talking earlier and-“

Jeff interrupts, “Overheard? How much did you actually hear? Ever wonder if eavesdropping is maybe not the most reliable source of information?”

Eddie glares at his friend, who only rolls his eyes. “I know what I heard.”

“Whatever, man. We have a show to do, so get your shit together.” Jeff heaves himself off the couch again, and Gareth follows, clicking his drumsticks.

-

“Good evening, Hawkins! We are Corroded Coffin, and we’re here to fuck shut up!” Gareth shouts into his mic and is met with an eruption of screaming fans. Eddie feels the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream as he strums a chord, amping up the tension before the drummer counts them off. They break into the first song. His vision’s fuzzy, but he can still sense you, standing right up front, mouthing the words and nodding your head to the beat. He can’t let himself think too much about it, already distracted by your earlier conversation with your band. Because of him. You’re having nightmares again, unable to rest, because of him. The words play on a broken record, spinning out of control inside his brain, and he barely realizes he’s broken a string from strumming too hard.

When they end the song, a crew member cloaked in black rushes onstage to help him fix it while Eddie stands there, useless and shaking with a feeling he can’t place. Not exactly anger, nor anxiety, but a sinister lingering in his gut. The crew member leaves, Eddie’s string replaced, and Gareth waits for a cue to continue. “Apologies, my dear friends, for the technical difficulties. Thanks for coming out to see us on such short notice. This song is for anyone that’s ever felt like a freak in their own skin.” Eddie backs away from the mic as Jeff starts in on their next song, Eddie’s voice barely a part of him as he sings. His fingers are starting to bleed from playing so hard, something he hasn’t done since he started playing guitar more seriously.

Eddie fades in and out during the set, on autopilot, his usual lighthearted banter with the crowd now awkward and empty. He feels nothing when the lighters fly into the air during Wiped Clean, or even when he looks right at you when he sings Sweetheart. It feels like something in him has died, leaving a gaping wound. Being home was like ripping that wound right open.

-

Your POV

He’s looking right through me. There is absolutely no feeling behind Eddie’s performance tonight as he drags himself through the set. He’s usually bouncing off the walls, swinging his guitar around or sticking his tongue out while he shreds, but tonight he stands there, his head barely even nodding, let alone banging and thrashing like he usually does.

Around you, there’s a sense of panic. These people came for him, they know what he’s about, and this was likely the last thing they’d expected of a hometown show. Their dancing is tainted with confusion, worrying for the man on stage in front of you. You look to where your friends stand, cautiously swaying and nodding along to the music, glancing back to you every so often with a raised or furrowed brow. Dustin, though, meets your eyes and immediately starts pushing his way through the crowd.

“Move, please! Friend of the band coming through! Eddie Munson’s protege! Out of the way, holy shit!” He makes it to you relatively unfazed, and you grab his outstretched hand to pull him up to the barricade. “What the hell is going on?” Dustin shouts, and you shake your head.

“I have no idea, he’s been weird all day.”

“He drinking?”

“Dustin, he’s an adult!”

“That’s not what I mean! Is he, like, drinking drinking?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

He shoots you a baffled, disappointed look, and you get it. Loud and clear. This, whatever Eddie’s doing right now, is somehow related to you. “I am not responsible for his behavior!”

“No, of course not! But you might be able to explain it!”

You think, hard. You were fine this morning, waking up together, even being mistaken for reconciled lovers. “I really don’t know, Dustin!”

“Shit, okay. I’ll get back to you.” He turns around, about to disappear again, but you grab him. He meets your eyes, reading you in such a way that you probably won’t even have to ask him. But you do, for good measure.

“Make sure he’s okay, yeah?”

“Of course.” And you let him go. You turn back to the stage, where Eddie switches his beautiful electric guitar for his well worn acoustic. You feel a smile pull at your lips, knowing the acoustic rarely makes an appearance at regular Coffin shows.

“Hawkins, you’re so very special to me,” He starts, tuning his guitar as he slurs. Shit. “So I feel I should show you, just how special. We don’t usually do this, but because we’re home, I feel it’s only mandatory. I’m gonna play you guys a deep cut, one we never released and probably never will.” No. No fucking way. “Now, even the guys didn’t know I planned to do this, shit, even I didn’t til halfway through the set. That set sucked though, am I right? I mean, the guys were wonderful as always, but I was god awful, and for that I am truly sorry. It’s hard to put the energy into this town when it sucked the life out of me for so long. No offense, I do love that you’re all here.” Jeff and Gareth exchange looks of befuddlement. They have no idea what’s going on, but it’s starting to click in your head.

“This song is called Salt The Earth.” Your jaw drops to the floor. He’s never shown that song to anyone else, that you know of, because he hated it that much. It was a battle he’d been fighting since you’ve known him, one even you weren’t sure he’d win. But here it is, in the same town he’d written the song, giving it a live debut.

He plays to an almost silent, completely entranced room of people, staring straight ahead at the glowing exit signs, past you and all of his friends.

“Burnt the whole place down, demolished holy ground, packed your bags, didn’t look back, salted earth on your way out. / Fires bright, smoke in my eyes, I never even heard your goodbyes. / When you leave you’re supposed to salt the earth, you’re supposed to cut the rope. / But I'm still here, tied to this post, while you’re out somewhere laughing.”

There’s a bite, a sting behind your forehead, as the lyrics swim through your head. You haven’t heard the song in years, and it was barely passable as a song, but somehow, the lyrics are still there, stored in the depths of your memory, and only yours. As far as you can tell, scanning the faces of your friends and colleagues, you’re the only one that knows the words. Some of them have changed, he’s vastly developed as a songwriter in the last couple years, but it also gives you waves of nostalgia. To you, this song is an old friend, one constantly looping in the background of your life with Eddie. Selfishly, you wonder if your life with him, the ending of it especially, contributed to the song’s growth.

His voice is low, gravelly to match the somber tune. His eyes close as he further loses himself, wincing as he fingers the chords, breaking open fresh wounds on his fingers. Every so often, when you really let yourself watch Eddie perform, you’re hypnotized by his presence. You forget where you are, who you’re with, as everything falls away except for him, on display in front of you, for you, the only other person in the room.

The song comes to an end, Eddie practically playing himself out, still strumming as he leaves the stage. It takes a second, but the room eventually explodes with applause, chants of EDDIE! EDDIE! filling the club to its ceiling. After a good amount of teasing, the house lights dim again and the band take their spots once more, Eddie front and center with his Warlock strapped back in place.

“You didn’t think we were done yet, did ya, Hawkins?!” It’s as if he’s been struck with new life, rejuvenated after playing that song, defeating that looming enemy he’s had for so long. “We have one more song for you, and I know you know it. Thanks so much for comin’ out, tip your bartender!” They start in on The Crawl, the crowd going wild for one of their biggest songs. A pit opens in the middle, close to where you stand with your friends, and you feel at ease for the first time all night. Despite Eddie’s weird behavior, things have been going well. You desperately wish the other shoe would drop, but at the same time want for once for there not to be a second shoe. There’s always a second shoe.

-

Eddie’s POV

The tension still lingers in his shoulders, but he feels lighter. Salt The Earth had been a big, angry cloud threatening to rain down on him for years, and it’s like he’s finally watching the sky clear. Or, he would have been, if not for the much darker, much angrier cloud right behind it. This one holds what you’d said earlier, behind closed doors, and not for him to hear.

He stomps offstage, t shirt in one hand, guitar clutched in the other, avoiding eye contact with his friends and bandmates as he looks for solace: the bar. He’s already very, very drunk, and he knows it’s not smart, but it’s all he can think to do to drown his memory of earlier, and his shame about the way he’s reacting. What a Catch 22, to need to drink not to feel shame, and to feel shame for drinking.

“Hey, is he-?” Your voice floats into his ears, warm and concerned as you ask Steve where he is. “Never mind.” And suddenly, you’re next to him, leaning on the counter, not saying a word as he gulps down his whiskey. “Hey.”

He doesn’t look at you, barely even acknowledges your presence. He grunts, “Hmph.” in response.

“What’s going on?”

He won’t respond. He won’t open up to you again, he can tell it’s hurting you.

“Eddie, would you look at me, please?” He hears it, the slight crack, whether it’s from performing or from holding back tears he’s not sure, but it works in your favor.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” His words come out jumbled, slippery in his mouth against the liquor.

“There must be, if you’re drinking like this. What’s bothering you?” He chances a look at you, and wishes he hadn’t. You look up at him with concern, eyes darting back and forth between his, trying to read him, dig into him even deeper.

“Nothin’, just thirsty.” He won’t. He can’t tell you he heard you, it would only upset you, and it’s not fair that he’s heard you in the first place.

“Ed, you know you can tell me anything.”

“Ever think I don’t want to?” He snaps, and you jolt. He regrets it, it’s not your fault he feels this way, not on purpose, but he’s infuriated by your care for him.

“Okay,” you start, voice low, “you don’t have to. But I’m around, y’know, if you change your mind.” You almost place your hand on his shoulder, a gesture of consolation, but he leans away, and you tighten your lips to keep them from quivering. “See you later.” And you’re gone.

“Another round, barkeep.”

-

Your POV

“Well?” Steve meets you in front of the buses, overseeing the crew as they load the trailer. “How is he?”

You all but break down at the question. “I don’t know, I really don’t.” You don’t know why it hurts so much, he doesn’t owe you anything. “He won’t talk to me, but something is most definitely wrong. Whatever happened, I don’t have a single inkling of what it is.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Steve is gentle, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you let a single tear slide down your cheek.

“You’ve done so much for me already, this whole time. I can’t keep letting you fight my battles for me. I’ll figure this one out. On my own.” He nods, giving you a reassuring squeeze before letting you by, into the bus. You’re the first one in, the rest of your band enjoying their night with each other, and you’re in here sulking. “Fuck it.” You mumble, exiting the bus again. “Let’s go enjoy our night home, huh?” You wipe your face hurriedly, much to Steve’s confusion, but you don’t let him ask more questions. “C'mon! Let’s go dance and drink and be fuckin’ merry!”

He laughs, but it’s a nervous giggle. “Okay, okay! Don’t get all weird on me, though.”

“Please, Steve, you know I can’t promise that.”

-

The house music is blaring Soundgarden’s Jesus Christ Pose as lingering fans drink and dance, trying to catch glimpses of band members in the makeshift VIP sections. You catch your friends in the far corner, and they wave you over when they see you. “Thought you’d gone off with your boy!” Max teases as you sit next to her in the booth, and you try not to make your irritation known.

“He’s probably off somewhere, brooding.” Robin intercepts, a smirk on her face.

“That’s all he seems to do now. Any chance we’ll see him again before we leave?” Mike quips, and El giggles.

“And if we do? Chances are we’d say something to piss him off.” Lucas adds, slumping in his chair.

Dustin mumbles something only meant for you, but even you can’t hear him. “What was that?” When his eyes meet yours he looks away, and before you can ask again he’s sliding out of his seat, off into the darkness of the club. “What’s his deal?” You ask the group.

“Guess he’s not in the mood to rag on Eddie? Strange, he’s usually the one to start the rolling of the punches.” Lucas shrugs, and you sigh.

“Should I go apologize?”

Will shakes his head. “He’ll get over it, hang out with us!”

-

Eddie’s POV

“What the hell, man?” The voice next to him is unmistakable, even in his current state of intoxication. “Why are you hiding from everyone? We haven’t seen you in two years, more than that, and you’re avoiding us!” Dustin yanks the drink out of Eddie’s reach. “Fucking say something!”

Dustin’s anger startles him. “Whoa, big guy, hang on,”

“I have been hanging on, all week. You were fine, almost normal, and tonight you go on stage acting like a zombie, and you don’t come say hi to anyone after. I'm done waiting around for my friend to reappear. What is your damage?”

Eddie looks at Dustin, his sweet face and big eyes as he tries to keep his composure. “Look, man, it’s adult stuff, something you’re not gonna understand.”

“Would you drop that? I’m 20 years old, Eddie, as much as you don’t wanna admit it to yourself. Is it Y/n? Cmon, give me something to work with. Pretend we’re friends again.”

It takes a second, but Eddie catches the last part. “We are friends, Dustin, ‘course we are. I didn’t wanna burden you, or any of the guys with it. But I guess I owe you, y’know, for not giving up on me.”

Dustin crosses his arms. “Yeah, you do.”

“Alright, fine. Let’s go talk.” Eddie throws an arm around the boy, and they exit the club.

-

“What do you wanna know?” Eddie asks, a cigarette pressed between his lips.

“Everything. What happened with Y/n? Why’d you disappear? Why didn’t you call?” Eddie can tell Dustin’s trying to stay composed. He’s a strong kid, but this is even harder for him than the rest of the party. Eddie owes him an explanation, and they both know it.

“We broke up.” Eddie starts, and Dustin nods to keep him talking. “We broke up three years ago, and I hadn’t seen them in two.”

“At all?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I couldn’t, it was too hard. I left Hawkins after that, and couldn’t make myself come back. I couldn’t face you, the guys, or even Wayne, y’know? Everyone thinks…” He trails off. Everyone thinks it’s his fault. It is his fault.

“I don’t.” Dustin seems to read his mind. “Sure, you didn’t handle it correctly, you ran away from us. But it’s not your fault it happened.”

“Dude, I know you mean well, but it is. I let everything get to me. The fame, the break up, and you’re right, I did run away.”

“The fame would get to anyone, Eddie. And as for the break up, of course it would. I had never seen you like that before Y/n. You two were inseparable, infatuated with each other beyond belief, obviously you’re gonna hurt. But you had us, you could’ve talked to anyone, to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have.”

“Why’d they break up with you?”

Eddie gapes at him. “Why do you think they broke up with me?”

Dustin can’t help but snicker. “Sorry, dude, you’re not hiding it well. The avoidance, the brooding, the drinking. They’re hanging out inside with everyone right now, and you’ve been at the bar all night.” Eddie doesn’t say anything. He wants Dustin to keep talking, to be angry at him, he has every right to be. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something recent.” Eddie bows his head, kicks the gravel at his feet. “Something to do with Y/n?”

“They uh, they said something. To Steve, last night.”

“Oh, please, can you drop that? Steve and Y/n have never been anything but platonic, you know that.”

“No, nothing like that. They told him about a nightmare they had. Said it was my fault.”

“No.” Dustin says simply, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t. You sure that’s it? You heard them say that?”

“Well, no, but-“

“But nothing! You’re an idiot, Eddie.”

“Gee, thanks. I wasn’t already feeling horrible about myself or anything.”

Dustin groans. “You know eavesdropping gets you nowhere! For all you know, they were blaming you for a scuff on their boot.”

Eddie purses his lips. “I don’t really think that’s what it was.”

“It definitely wasn’t.” You stalk out of the shadows. “Dustin’s right, though, eavesdropping doesn’t get you anywhere. Well, except for when I do it.” You give him a sad smile, and he looks away. “Henderson, can I have a minute with our rockstar, please? The guys are on the other bus, if you wanna go raid the snack stash or something.”

Dustin nods, and turns back to Eddie. He wraps him in his arms, the first real hug he’s gotten since coming home. “Hear them out, okay? There’s an explanation for all of it.” Dustin pats Eddie on the back, then gives you a hug before disappearing into your bus.

Eddie can’t look at you, still basking in the post gig glow, cigarette dangling between your fingers. You walk closer, slowly as if not to scare him away. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

“Then what were you talking about?” He asks the ground.

“What did you hear?”

“‘All of this is because of him, as much as I hate admitting it. He’s the reason.’”

“Oh my god, you really are an idiot.”

“Right, I got that.”

“Eddie, I wasn’t talking about the nightmare. I told you, it happens when I come back here. It’s this place, feeding on whatever I’m already worried about. I was talking about my whole career. You’re the reason I’ve come this far, the reason I write what I do. I wasn’t blaming you for anything, I promise. Will you look at me, please?”

He does, finally. He looks into your pretty eyes, sparkling under the bright lights of the parking lot. Your cigarette hangs long forgotten in your hand, and you take another step towards him.

“You think you got here because of me?”

“I know I did. I couldn’t have done this without you, you have to know that. Deep in your soul, you know.”

He doesn’t, or at least he can’t admit it. What he does know is you don’t need him now. You’ve outgrown him, mastered your craft in such a way that doesn’t require his assistance anymore. And yet, you’re still there, waiting for him to come around, just like every other time. “I’m sorry. For this, for me. It wasn’t right of me to assume, to take something I only heard part of so personally.”

You shake your head. “No, it really wasn’t. Here I thought something real had happened. I thought I’d done something to hurt your feelings, with the way you’d been treating me. Avoiding me suddenly like I’d kicked your dog. Turns out, you’ll look for any small problem to excuse your behavior.” Your voice carrie’s a venom Eddie recognizes, each word stinging as it’s spit at him. “I’ll leave you alone. I get it. This is too hard for you, and I guess it’s not worth a fight.”

Before he can respond, you’re turning around, walking away again. “Wait! Please, wait.” He doesn’t mean for his voice to break, but he can’t help it. He can't watch you leave again.

You stop walking, but you don’t turn around. “What?” There’s no feeling in your voice, it’s cold.

“Are we okay?” He asks lamely.

You sigh. “We’re whatever you want, Eddie. Just like every other time.”

He’s dumbfounded as you walk away. You leave him there, alone, just like you’d found him six years ago.

-

Your POV

You can’t let yourself be proud. You know, deeply and surely, that you’d done nothing wrong. So why does it feel like you have? You’re in no mood to see your friends anymore, but it’s your last night in Hawkins before tour resumes, and you’re once again stuck with Eddie and his stupid face.

When you decide to make a beeline to the bar, you’re halted, colliding with a figure lurking behind the building. “Whoa, hey, sorry,” He stutters as you say, “You’re not supposed to be back here,” when he moves into the light. He’s older than you remember, more lines carved into the skin around his eyes and mouth, hair more white than gray, but it’s him. “Wayne, oh god, hi!” You squeak, and it takes him a second to recognize you.

“Y/n, wow. How are you, kiddo?” He cracks a smile, and your heart warms. He doesn’t hate you, even after everything.

“Oh, you know, same old.” He scoffs at your pathetic response, and you laugh too.

“Right, same old, touring the world and all.”

“Totally, just another day in paradise! Did you see the show?”

He nods, suddenly somber. “That’s why I’m back here. I don’t expect you’ve seen my boy?”

You frown at the question. “He hasn’t said hi?” Wayne shakes his head. “Yeah, he was just outside the bus, the big black one down there,” you point to where you’d come from. “Should still be there.”

“Thanks, love. How’s he, uh…” He trails off, realizing his question probably won’t have the best answer.

You give him one anyway. “He’s not good, Wayne. I don’t think he’s been good for awhile.”

He shakes his head sadly. “Haven’t heard from him in months, and after seeing that I had to find him.” His voice trembles, his fists clenching and flexing with each syllable. It scares you.

“Is this normal behavior with him?” You ask the question gently, trying to hide your nerves, and settle his.

“We talk once a week. Thought I’d give him some space when,” He pauses, meeting your eyes for the first time. They’re glassy, and it breaks your heart to see him so defeated. “I don’t know what you know. It’s not my business to tell, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I’ll walk you over to him.” Forgetting your dramatic goodbye, you pivot to face the buses, down the road from where you’d bumped into Eddie’s uncle.

“How’s tour been, by the way?” He begins, turning his head to look at you again. “You guys are making something great. Both of you,” He nods his head in the general direction before them.

“It’s definitely been chaotic. We've never done anything this big, and to do it under these circumstances is,” You falter.

“A punch in the face?” He offers helpfully.

And you laugh. Despite it all, you belly laugh at the man’s words, and it feels good to talk to someone outside of everything. Selfishly, you hope Eddie isn’t there, maybe you could hang out with Wayne. Maybe get your questions answered, or at least some inside scoop on why Marie’s diner is now called The Wrench.

“Yeah, a huge punch in the fucking face.”

You make it to the bus, still not running and therefore not leaving this shit town any time soon. You knock three times quickly, three times slowly, and three times quickly again. The bus shakes, and the door flies open. You’re met with the silhouette of Eddie in his underwear, travel sized toothbrush shoved in his cheek, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “What the- Are you okay?!” Your last conversation forgotten, panic written on his face, Eddie switches the front light on. “Wayne?”

“Hey, boy.” Wayne’s voice is weathered, a calming wave over this terrible tension, a welcome distraction.

“Didn’t think you’d have heard about this.”

“You think I’m not cool enough? You shoulda seen me in college, son.” And Eddie laughs, for the first time all day, and you can’t help giggling too.

“I’ll leave you guys alone, it was so nice seeing you, Wayne.”

“You too, kid. Keep it up.”

You nod, holding out your hand for him to shake. Wayne swats it away, pulling you into a hug you return with fervor. “Thank you for everything.” You whisper, and you can feel him shake his head, but he doesn’t respond. He has no idea what he’s done for you in raising Eddie, letting you crash at the trailer on bad nights, and promising not to say anything when he’d caught you singing in the kitchen that one time he’d come home early. He’d treated you, and all of your friends, like his own. He’s your family.

-

You end up playing Bullshit with everyone on the ride back to Nancy’s.

“5” Dustin slaps a card down.

“BULLSHIT!” It’s unanimous.

It’s a five

“FUCK!” Cards are thrown, birds are flipped, and there’s a pink tint to it all. You’d give it all up for this moment, but you know it’s not forever. The kids will go back to school, they’ll graduate, they’ll do something important. You’ll go back on tour, bumping into Eddie in different cities, different countries, until you inevitably kill yourself with drugs or pyrotechnics, or sell out stadiums until you’re fifty, like The Rolling Stones.

“Alright, kiddos, we’ve arrived.” Steve shoves himself from the bench to open the door. Both buses are parked down the street from Nancy’s, halfway to Dustin’s to make the trek home easier for them. “See you soon.” Steve squeezes Dustin first, then the rest of his children one by one. Eddie peers cautiously out of the crack in his own bus door, and you catch his eye. You have a million questions for him, and not a single one you’ll be able to ask any time soon.

“Ed, at least come say goodbye.” Steve says it with humor, a lightness you couldn’t manage if you’d tried.

It does the trick, as it always does, and Eddie emerges from his shelter. He makes his rounds, saying goodbye to the kids, then turns to Steve to say something. You can’t make it out, but Steve responds with a nod, and brings Eddie into his chest for a hug. “Alright, we’ll pick you up in the morning, you gonna be ready to go?”

“I don’t need Mother Steve over my shoulder to make sure I’m ready to leave. Wayne will do it for you.” He pats Steve on the shoulder. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?” You join your friends in waving goodbye, despite the lingering heaviness in your chest. You’re worried about him, despite how many times you’ve told yourself he’s not your responsibility.

Eddie gets back into his bus, and it drives away, leaving the rest of you at the fork in the road. The kids take the left to Dustin’s, and you follow your friends and bandmates back to the Wheelers’. “I didn’t know Wayne still lived in Hawkins,” You start, hooking your arm through Steve’s. “I figured he would’ve left as soon as he could.”

Steve nods. “Guess it’s more difficult than that. But Eddie bought him a real nice plot of land on the far edge of town, and Wayne built the house.” Of course, Eddie bought Wayne a massive plot of land, that doesn’t surprise you at all. “What’s your deal? You haven’t visited the parents yet, everything okay?”

You shake your head. “They moved back to Boston after I graduated, they had no reason to stay, Dad quit his job because he missed the city so much. But they told me they’re coming to the show out there, so that’s keeping me going. It’s weird, being here now. Beyond you guys and the kids, this isn’t my home anymore.” You remember the day they told you they were leaving, and asked if you had wanted to come. By then, you and Eddie had already planned to move in together, but right now you were between jobs and Eddie had only just gotten signed. You’d moved into the trailer instead.

Steve wraps his arm around your shoulder. “You always have a home here, y’know. You can take the rockstar out of Hawkins, but you can’t take Hawkins out of the rockstar. Prime example just drove away.”

Your group reaches the front door, and you say your goodnights before dragging your tired body into the guest bed. Tonight, you sleep alone.

-

You’re back in the dark, this time going seemingly unnoticed as you watch the figures in front of you. You recognize Eddie instantly, even with his strange posture and soulless eyes. In front of him, the taller, lanky figure stalks around, surrounding Eddie with its massive arms and veiny body.

“You have succeeded in your mission, Eddie. You have eliminated the one thing holding you back. Whatever you do now, you do it without them.” The one supposed to be Eddie, he doesn’t say anything. He watches the figure as it moves, unfazed by the words it seems only to be thinking. The voice is disembodied, swimming through your ears, or living inside your mind, you’re not sure.

Before you can react, though, the limbs stretch, tangling themselves around to Eddie’s body. You can't move, can’t speak, only watch as the branches of its arms tighten around him, lifting him into the air before swiftly snapping his spine. The body falls to the ground with a thud, and you can’t scream, can’t cry, you can only watch the body of the boy you love bleed out in front of you, as it would have years ago if you hadn’t gotten there in time.

-

You’re woken up by Nancy barging through the guestroom door, panic on her face. “Hey, whoa, hey,” she hushes you, rubbing your back as you continue hyperventilating. “Another nightmare? Here, here’s some water.” She hands you the glass and you gulp, stopping only to gasp for air. “You wanna talk about it?”

You do, but you can’t bring yourself to start. The first thing out of your mouth is, “Where does Wayne live?”

“Wayne? Y/n, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, where does Wayne live?!” You try not to snap, but this anxiety inside you is not letting up. Nancy tells you the address and you barely register it, but you bolt out the bedroom door and down the stairs, slipping on a pair of abandoned sandals before throwing the front door open.

“It’s far, hold on a second, let me drive you.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” To your left, Mike’s bicycle lay against the side of the house, and you yank it towards you. “I’ll take his wrath for this, but I need to go now. I know you’re gonna try talking me out of it.” You throw your leg over the bike, amazed that it’s now too big for you considering you’d met Mike when he was several inches shorter than you.

“Okay, please be safe. Give me a call in the morning.” Nancy wraps her arms around you, and you lean your head on her shoulder. When she lets you go, you pedal away, only vaguely certain of the direction you’re going.

-

It takes you forty five minutes, but you find Wayne’s house. Out front, Eddie’s old, beaten box of a van sits on cinder blocks, and it makes your heart hurt. You shove that feeling aside like you do the bike, tossing it onto Wayne's front yard before sprinting to the door. It dawns on you, you have no idea what you’ll say, regardless of who opens the door, if anyone does. The light inside is on, and you think you hear music playing, so you say a quick prayer that you’re not disturbing anyone’s much needed rest.

You bang on the door before you can talk yourself out of it, and you don’t stop until it’s answered. When it swings back, Eddie basks in the glow of the porch light, draped in a torn tank top and plaid boxers, rubbing his eyes. “Y/n?”

You have to physically stop yourself from charging at him, throwing your arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. “God, I’m so sorry, did I wake you guys up?”

“No, you’re fine. I was just about to go to bed. You uh, wanna come in?” You nod sheepishly, and he moves to let you by, clicking the lock shut behind you. “Are you okay?”

You take in the living room before you, much bigger than the trailer you’re used to picturing Wayne in, but still very cozy. His mug collection is still on the wall, as well as pictures of him and Eddie, the Hellfire Club, and even a picture of you and Eddie from your senior year. It makes you smile to see you’re still part of the family. in Wayne’s eyes at least.

“Uh, well,”

“Right, stupid question. ‘Nother nightmare?”

You can't help it, you break. The tears fall from your face before you can make them stop, and your breath seems to leave your body. The sobs that erupt from your throat are strangled, broken noises, and you rush your hands to your eyes to cover them. You feel Eddie before you see him again, embracing you without a second thought, rubbing your back soothingly as he lets you cry. “We don’t have to talk about it. It was just a dream, you’re safe. I promise.”

You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his chest to suffocate the remainder of your sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Eddie. I couldn’t think of anything else, I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone. I woke Nancy up and I still couldn’t tell her. It was so dark, I was so scared you were,” You pull your face away to look at him. He’s tired, you can tell, soft eyes carrying bags of sleep beneath them that he’s more than ready to put down, but he’s here with you instead. “I can go. I know you probably don’t want me here, just give me a second. I just had to make sure you were okay.”

Eddie shakes his head, holding you still. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. It’s way too dark, and I don’t have a vehicle to bring you back. I didn’t come here to get away from you. I just wanted to be somewhere quieter for tonight. That’s all.” He pulls you back into him, seemingly more for himself than for you. “You’re alright. Let’s go upstairs. I’ll give you the tour tomorrow.”

Eddie holds his hand out, and instead you hook yourself around his arm like a child reunited with your parent, holding on for dear life so as not to get lost again. Eddie leads you up the stairs, and down the hall to what you can only assume is the guestroom. When he opens the door, though, it’s far too lived in. Eddie has clothes in the closet, shoes on the ground, and records on the shelf in the corner. “I keep a lot of my stuff here. Wayne won’t let me take it to LA, thinks it gives me a reason to visit more.”

“Does it?” You sniffle, finally relaxing.

He shrugs. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” He looks you up and down, taking in the clothes you’d ridden here in. “You need something to sleep in.” He turns to his dresser, pulling out an Iron Maiden shirt and another pair of boxer shorts. “It’s not much but,” He holds them out for you, and you take them gratefully. “I can uh,�� You’re already changing before he can finish, and you don’t care one bit that he didn’t even bother turning around.

“Thank you.” It’s a whisper, full of shame. You didn’t want to disturb him, to interrupt his time away from everyone. You’d been selfish, biking your way here just to see him.

“You don’t have to thank me. Or be sorry, for that matter. Never.” He pulls the covers back and climbs into the big bed.

“I can sleep on the couch, I know you probably want to be alone.” Even though you don’t, you can’t be right now. You would, though, for him.

“Absolutely not. Get in. Please.” It’s not a question, but you nod, and climb into the bed beside him. Before you can move, Eddie drags you into him, his arms closing around your waist, head burying into your shoulder. Instantly, you’re calm. Eddie washes over you, and you’re overwhelmed by his warmth, his smell, his soft breath on your neck. I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe. You repeat it to yourself until you’re dozing off, and Eddie’s breath evens out. You fall asleep with him wrapped around you, and you don’t have another dream.

-

chapter XVII

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @lilpotatobean2-deactivated20230 @poisonedluv @kellsck

[the-lark-ascending69]

> be a robin buckley fan

> be lesbian

> project on robin

> look up "internalized homophobia robin buckley" on tumblr because it's cathartic

> 3/4 of the posts are about st3ddie or just about steve

[mushiemooon]

They need to kiss im so serious

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

They learn quickly that the monsters are sensitive to sound.

He gets used to talking quietly. To always watch his step and always be aware of his surroundings. Someone had the idea to raid the schools and communicate exclusively using blackboard and chalk. Hawkins has never been so silent, but that doesn't bother him too much. He grew up in the silence, after all.

What bothers him is that his hands won't stop trembling. He never had the prettiest handwriting, but the chicken scratch he produces now is barely readable. Worse, he needs for-fucking-ever to write even a single word, only for it to not even look like english half the time.

He and Robin can communicate without words - he is truly convinced that they are living proof that soulmates are a thing - but with everyone else he has to struggle with the chalk, until he just gives up and starts talking less and less. If he died because he took too long writing smalltalk or pleasantries on the blackboard he would never live it down. He tries to convince himself that the grizzled-cool-silent-type suits him. With moderate success.

Although the whole town was literally transported into a different dimension, all adults seem to maintain a silent agreement to continue on as if nothing is wrong. They still go to work and they still need to pay for groceries and the holes and cracks in the streets are nothing more than inconveniences. He even overhears someone complaining about those, once. As if everything would be fine if the holes were only filled with cement. (oh gee, he wonders - silently as always, why did we never try that genius idea the last three times the upside down made an unwelcome visit). The only shop that has escaped the clutches of capitalism is the weapons shop.

He can somewhat understand it, the need to pretend that everything is fine. That it was all some collective nightmare that will fade with the dullness of day-to-day life. Doesn't mean he can't hate it. Though he doesn't take it as hard as the rest of the party.

It makes sense if you think about it. Robin, Nancy, the shitheads - they are smart, they could all actually go somewhere, do something with their lives. But him? Steve Harrington never had much of a future anyway, and his chances of making it out of this godforsaken town were always miniscule. No. What honestly bothers him more are his hands that won't stop shaking. You can't use a gun if you are unable to hold still and aim. You have a harder time being fast and quiet when everything takes twice as long if you don't want to drop anything. Even his beloved bat becomes less reliable, the swings weaker and his actual target always a few centimeters off. So yeah, his trembling hands are fucking inconvenient.

Gas and Water and Electricity stopped working. The first few months all of Hawkins stinks of rotting food until some teacher has the grandiose idea of distributing history books. This has the added bonus of giving everyone something to do that isn't "pretending not to be under constant panic". Water filters get classified under "weaponry" so that everyone has access without the mayor having to change the law again.

Once more, he doesn't mind too much. The only reason he used to turn on the TV was to feel less alone, and now the rest of the party basically lives in his house. He doesn't even mind having to walk the entire way to and from the lake while carrying buckets full of water: he will always be a jock at heart, and it is a great way to work out and be useful at the same time. His biggest complaint is once again his fucking hands. Water is precious, but his stupid arm won't stay still and it keeps spilling out of the bucket. Every lost drip feels like a stab in his heart, and the only reason he doesn't cry is because that would be an even bigger waste of water.

But the most stupid and embarrassing part is that this isn't even his first rodeo. He has been here before, he knows what it is like. Everyone else is living the same situations that he is. And still, his hands are the only ones that won't fucking stop trembling.

[shprka]

I'm writing some Harringrove and Steve is so PUPPY. He judt wants to HELP Billy who's taking care of Max basically on his own cos her mom is working 2 jobs and basically a high functioning alcoholic

Steve sees Billy struggling and he wants to help just because he can.

Give Billy a lift when his car breaks down? Easy, Steve is driving everyone everywhere anyway.

Give Max a lift to school? Steve already picks up Dustin and/or Robin at ungodly hours?

Get some groceries bc he knows Billy's busy at work? It's nothing. He can either buy it or get some food from his house. He has plenty.

Sees Billy's boots falling apart? Steve buys him new ones. He has the money.

Steve wants to be with Billy everyday, wants to be involved in his and Max's life. Wants to go home after work to see Billy and stay over and be a part of their little family and help them in any way he can. He has so much love to give.

And Billy has too much trauma and pride to accept any of this. It feels too good to be true and suffocating at the same time.

They need to learn so much together but that comes with time

[boysborntodie]

Me @ to anyone, please anyone, I am begging you-

[just-a-tiny-void]

Let me have unhinged Steve Harrington

Let me have this man- this child

(cuz that’s what they all are, right?

Just children doin a job that they were never supposed to be have to begin with)-

Filled with an all consuming rage cuz everything is just too much

Too much grief,

Too much pain-

…too much failure.

So let me have a quiet Steve Harrington, one shaped by war.

Ever observing to those that he loves because he can’t (he just can’t) lose anymore.

A weapon always within reach just in case.

A walkman n radio for hun to help.

So let me have a grief stricken Steve Harrington, with sharp edges shaped by heartbreak.

Because he’s lost in what could’ve been n what if,

Because he wasn’t strong enough,

He wasn’t fast enough-

Wasn’t good enough for them.

So what was he worth?

So let me have this shell of a child-

Fighting one last battle against these monsters that have taken everything from his family,

Bloodthirsty and without mercy

To bring them back, to make them whole again.

So let me have this child-

N let him feel

N let him be loved.

————————————————————

N then everyone lives, get some therapy, n have their happily ever after cuz dammit they deserve it.

(if this is bad I’m sorry I just want this boy to let it out while killing some monsters n protecting his people)