This Blog Has Unconditional Love And Respect For Noah Schnapp

This blog has unconditional love and respect for Noah Schnapp

‪If anyone has my voodoo doll please give that bitch a Xanax and a bottled water ‬

Send Her My Love

part 2: Second Choice

inspired by journey’s send her my love

summary: several months later, a still hung-up steve hears that [Y/N] is back in hawkins from a semester at college and dustin has a trick or two up his sleeve

warnings: mentions of death/grief, (vague) spoilers for Stranger Things 2, angst,

a/n: part 3?

—

It’s been so long

Since I’ve seen her face

Rain assaulted the sidewalks and scattered loose gravel across the asphalt of Hawkins. Few dared brave this weather in the setting sun and [Y/N] found herself standing alone on a darkened street as she stepped out of the taxi cab. The last of the autumn leaves fell silently to the ground, swept away with the wind and twirling under the angry raindrops’ direction.

This kind of quiet was hard to come by on a Saturday night in any town other than Hawkins, Indiana, as [Y/N] had learned in just one semester away from her hometown. As she pulled the last of her luggage up the steps to her front door, she swallowed back the urge to stand in the rain, just trying to recapture that raw Hawkins smell.

The house was uncomfortably quiet as [Y/N] stepped into the foyer and shut the door behind her. There were days when she might have expected to be tackled by a pair of giggling pigtails. Those days were long gone, now.

[Y/N] should have been angry. Her Father never showed at the bus station to drive her home, and she used the last of her cash to pay for a cab. No doubt he got caught up in something at work again, an occurrence that became daily two years ago. If she had one guess, her Mother had a wine glass between her lips and no clue what day it was, or when her daughter was due to come home. She knew she should be angry at her parents for just shutting down on her like that. But instead, she just felt numb.

Sighing, she made her way up the staircase to her old bedroom. The movement was automatic, and if she weren’t so drowsy, [Y/N] might have caught a glimpse of the ghostly bedroom beside hers and forgotten how to breathe. She collapsed on her twin bed and let out a heavy sigh. If she thought last Christmas had been hard, she was in for a world of hurt when this year finally came to a close.

Two blocks and one left turn away, Steve Harrington sat on his own bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling very sorry for himself. He twiddled his thumbs over his chest, trying to figure out how he’d ended up in this mess. A year ago, he might have blamed Nancy Wheeler and all her empty promises for holding him back; he knew better now, though.

Time worked in mysterious ways. Sixteen-year-old Steve had the whole world before him; ask anyone in town back then and they’d all tell you that the charming young man was destined for things much bigger than Hawkins. He could see that life laid out for him in his head, even now. Daydream-Steve left high school a local legend: star athlete, the town’s teen heartthrob, Prom King, committed to play basketball at a reputable college, the works. In this life, he might move to a big city for work, meet the love of his life, and settle down somewhere nice. But Steve’s plan didn’t include demogorgons, losing his girlfriend and his popular friends, or befriending thirteen-year-olds. Most of all, he never imagined that he might meet the love of his life right here in Hawkins, or that she would be the one who got out of this godforsaken town. But Steve supposed that was what he had coming to him for being such an arrogant prick.

Now 19 and finally growing up, Steve reckoned he might not like the person he would have become in that daydream of his. He might still be right where he was a year ago, but at least he could look himself in the eye whenever he passed by a mirror.

Growing tired of his pity party, Steve dragged himself up out of bed and fished his keys out of his jeans pocket.

You say she’s doin’ fine

I still recall

A sad cafe

Jittery and nursing his second cup of coffee for the evening, Steve danced around the elephant in the room. Dustin, who sat across from him, was glaring holes into his forehead. The kid had just dropped a bomb on Steve’s lap and now expected his friend to thank him.

“S-she’s back?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Jeez, Harrington, are you even listening?”

His quip fell onto deaf ears, however; Steve couldn’t focus on anything but the pounding in his chest. [Y/N] was back in Hawkins.

“Hey, Earth to Steve!”

“Yes, what? Chill!”“

“I said,” he scoffed. “She’s doing fine, Steve. Really, I haven’t seen her this happy since-“

Steve nodded slowly, digesting the information about as well as some bad seafood. This was exactly what he’d wanted to hear, so why did he feel so sick?

“You should talk to her.”

“What? Don’t be stupid, Dustin,” he paused. “She doesn’t want to see me, that was made pretty clear.”

“It’s been a long time, Steve. How can you be so sure?”

Tugging on his hair, Steve groaned. He’d never been good at dealing with his emotions. Pretending not to have any was just so easy that for a while he almost forgot they were there. Until [Y/N].

A thick silence fell over the two and Steve was about to suggest he drive Dustin home when he was interrupted. The younger of the two boys leaned forward on the table, smirking with the knowledge that he knew something Steve didn’t. Steve wagged a finger at him, preparing to tell him off.

But he didn’t get a single word in before the door chime sounded and he forgot how to speak. The cafe the two boys sat in was empty this time of night, save for them and a tired-looking waitress wiping the counters. But that stupid door chime rang and Steve caught one look at her. Shaking the rain from her coat and hair, [Y/N] stepped in and looked around for Dustin.

A harsh pink tint bit her nose from the cold and she looked tired, but [Y/N] still glowed with a youthful beauty that was rare in such a small town. She mustn’t have seen Steve until after she reached their booth. Her lips parted to greet the young teen but something stopped her. That something couldn’t seem to speak himself.

She saw him and the smile slipped from her lips just as quickly as Steve was slipping from his grip on reality.

i dont get offended at white people jokes even though im white because: 

i can recognize white people as a whole have systemically oppressed POC in america, which is where i live 

most people when they make white people jokes only mean the shitty white people and i am not a shitty white person 

im not a pissbaby

Falling For You

prompt: “You’re just so stupid!”

warnings: sexist comments, underage drinking, swearing (when do i not?)

Steve Harrington x oc; alludes to Billy Hargove x oc

a/n: this was written in response to a larger plot, so there are some references to outside events. it should still be easy enough to follow! requests are open

The last people on earth Beth thought she might publicly agree with were Carol and Tommy. Tonight, as she struggled to keep Steve upright and conscious, she couldn’t help but to concede when Carol suggested they find a way to drag him up the dock and inside before he blacked out or fell in the lake again and turned her rager into a crime scene. His wounds only worsened as he wriggled about in all three of the teenagers’ grips, as if he could somehow overpower them. Steve royally, monumentally, epically screwed up that night. 

Keep reading

Falling For You

prompt: “You’re just so stupid!”

warnings: sexist comments, underage drinking, swearing (when do i not?)

Steve Harrington x oc; alludes to Billy Hargove x oc

a/n: this was written in response to a larger plot, so there are some references to outside events. it should still be easy enough to follow! requests are open

The last people on earth Beth thought she might publicly agree with were Carol and Tommy. Tonight, as she struggled to keep Steve upright and conscious, she couldn’t help but to concede when Carol suggested they find a way to drag him up the dock and inside before he blacked out or fell in the lake again and turned her rager into a crime scene. His wounds only worsened as he wriggled about in all three of the teenagers’ grips, as if he could somehow overpower them. Steve royally, monumentally, epically screwed up that night. 

While Beth commonly slapped a band-aid on his bruised knuckles and kept Tylenol in her purse solely for his use, she was in way over her head this time. Her babysitting training course never covered drunk, injured teenage almost-boyfriends. 

She knew things had gone from bad to worse when Carol called the party off, shooing everyone else from her lake house, for Steve’s benefit. By some miracle, the three of them managed to get him inside and relatively conscious. Carol and Tommy were quick to scatter and leave Beth to tend his wounds.

Steve groaned excessively from his makeshift bed on Carol’s pull-out couch. He protruded his bleeding lip in a haughty pout. His wet hair gave him a chill and without a dry shirt to keep him warm, he was left with only a blanket to huddle in. The worried pull in her brow looked an awful lot like anger to him, and Steve only wanted to see her smile.

“You’re mad at me!”

Beth stroked the side of his cheek, sighing:

“I’m not. Some things are just best left alone, Steve.”

“But I just wanted to protect you!”

Steve was a protector. He put himself in harm's way only as a barrier between his loved ones and danger, like he had done with the demogorgon and with the very human monster that is Billy Hargrove.

“I know,” she said.

He pulled at her hands, grasping to keep her close, milking this as much as possible. Beth let him, happy with the surge of energy his touch left her with.

When Beth suggested they go to a party thrown by his former best friends, Steve fully intended to coax her into a night at the drive-in movie theater, instead. After all, he hardly imagined a lake house was much fun in winter. However, when she showed up on his doorstep wearing white sunglasses much too large for her face and using one of his t-shirts as a bikini cover-up, Steve was putty in her hands. She had him wrapped around her finger for everyone to see- everyone, apparently, aside from Beth herself.

Not long after they arrived, Steve lost Beth in the crowd. He merely smiled and insisted she go have some fun when her two best friends cornered them. For a while, he watched contentedly with a solo cup in one hand and Beth on his mind. She danced along to every song as if it were her last. The smile she wore with every lyric she shouted alongside Amy, pulling playfully at Tiffany’s hands as the three of them danced drunkenly by the bonfire, tightened his chest.

He no longer cared much for parties. Nancy Wheeler spoiled the whole scene for Steve in a similar fashion to the way he forever stained her white blouse. House parties now equated heartbreak for Steve. Though he tried to avoid the thought, he couldn’t help but to wonder how Beth could break his heart tonight, if he wasn’t even hers. As if on cue, Steve’s train of thought received a rude interruption.

“Harrington,” the voice boomed.

Steve exhaled sharply, trying to remember the promise he made to Beth. Nothing stupid tonight. So, he kept his voice detached and prayed the message might be received:

“Hargrove.”

The Californian clasped a hand over Steve’s shoulder with more force than necessary.

He wetted his lips in an animalistic aggression. It seemed he had yet to leave well enough alone; Billy wanted revenge for the chance with the cute head cheerleader that was stolen from him. Stolen, he assumed, from Steve Harrington.

He knew Hawkins was a far cry from the golden coast before he ever set foot in the town. Still, he hardly expected to ever find himself fighting for women’s attention against a boy who couldn’t throw a punch to save his life. It was pathetic; Hawkins was pathetic. It had a saving grace, though. A glimmer of hope for Hawkins came from the smile of the girl whose hair reminded Billy of the beaches he missed so much and in her laugh, that never failed to melt the bars around Steve’s heart. If Billy had a heart, he might think about giving it to her. Instead, he took out the unchecked rage that filled that void on the boy who unmistakably captured her attention.

“I believe you have somethin’ of mine,” he paused. “I want it back.”

“What? Are you drunk? Get lost, Bill-”

The taller boy erupted into a humorless rumble of a laugh. Steve was playing with fire, though he was made of ice.

“Cut the bullshit, Harrington.”

Subconsciously, Steve flinched at that all-too-familiar word. He wished new curse words existed so he never needed to hear the words that triggered his first heartbreak again. He much preferred a sarcastic King or a straightforward asshole than any form of that word. Billy didn’t need to know this, of course, so Steve tightened his jaw and decided to play along.

“What do you want? ‘M not in the mood”

He watched with wide eyes as his foe’s lips rolled inward like an engine revving up for a drag race. Steve said the wrong thing. His eyes merely followed as the blonde curls forming his mullet nodded in the direction of the short, oblivious girl who captured Steve’s- and apparently Billy’s, as well- full attention.

“No, no way.”

“Wrong answer”

Steve sucked his gums inwards, wishing Billy would fall off the dock and into the lake. Tonight was an escape for him and Beth. Billy fit nowhere in that equation. As much as Steve’s rational mind told him otherwise, his insecurities whispered to him that Beth agreed to go on a date with Billy for more reasons than a petulant promise to Dustin. Could she possibly fall for his looks? Steve hardly considered himself insecure in that right, but he found himself wondering if he could hold a candle to boys like that in Beth’s mind.

“She’s not an object! No one owns her”

Steve gaped incredulously up at him. Eyes wide, innocent, and begging to be destroyed, Steve was Bambi and Billy was the forest fire ready to devour everything he loved.

“Well, shit,” he said. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Man, what are you even talking about?”

Billy’s fingers traced over the healing scars he put on Steve’s otherwise smooth skin, a devilish smirk on his lips. He pulled it away just as smoothly, now booming with laughter. A cigarette breath coated Steve’s face as he exhaled like a snarky dragon. Steve took an involuntary step away from him, closer to the the edge of the dock. His insecurities manifested themselves in the form of a harsh reality check from his least favorite person.

“If it weren’t for you and my bitch of a step-sister-”

“Watch it!”

“I would have been elbow-deep in that pretty little skirt of hers. Maybe we might have actually watched some of the movie we were supposed to see,” he sighed.

“You’re delusional!”

“Don’t believe me? Why don’t you ask her yourself, then.”

He chanced a glance back over at Beth, who danced freely and blissfully unaware of the unfolding conflict between the two boys. Licking his cold, nicotine lips, he flickered his gaze between the two of them.

“It’s a shame, Harrington”

Steve disdained the sinful glint in his eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he might have half a mind to punch that smirk right off his lips. Against his better judgement, he decided to humor him:

“What is?”

“Plenty of bitches in the sea certainly did not mean I was giving you free reign of the hottest piece of ass in this cow shit town-“

Like the last bit of a heavy rain season on an overflowing lake, it was the burst that snapped the dam holding back Steve’s rage. He reached his arm back with every intention of clocking Billy in the nose, even remembered to plant his feet, too, only to realize that he miscalculated his balance and stepped a little too close to the edge of the dock. All it took was the seizure and twist of his cocked wrist by Billy, and Steve’s New Balances gave way to the slippery wood and he fell down into the water below, knocking his head against the wood pretty hard in the process.

“Steve,” she called out to him.

Beth glanced warily at the weak, tired boy with her hands planted firmly on her hips. She exhaled slowly like a deflating balloon before gingerly placing herself on the edge of the coffee table.

“You said something, uh, when we got you out of the water-“

He hummed in acknowledgement. Steve’s heart skipped a beat. His mind was still hazy, either from the alcohol or the concussion that was most likely forming. He hoped she would let him play dumb a little longer.

“Did you mean it?”

“What? What did I say?”

He wasn’t a very good liar.

“C’mon Steve, don’t play dumb with me! I want to hear you say it.”

He caved, locking eyes with her. If this turned out badly, at least he had a plethora of excuses to back him up.

“I just thought, y’know, maybe you liked him. It’s just that he’s the first boy you were willing to go out with in years and, well, I want you to be happy, even if it is with… him.”

Much to his horror, she burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. Steve rubbed nervously at the back of his neck.

“What- what, uh, what’s wrong?”

“You’re just so… stupid, Steve!”

She had him there. On a scale of confused to competent, Steve was well past clueless.

“Well, yes, but-“

“Billy Hargrove is a racist, self-serving, narcissistic douchebag and I would rather die than be his girlfriend. As far as I’m concerned, he and his right hand should get very well acquainted at the rate he’s going, because that's the only thing that will even get close to him when I’m done with him. And that’s exactly what I told him”

Steve sat up a little, shocked and admittedly excited, only to shrink back from the pain in his head. Beth, who was honestly one of the most angelic girls he ever laid eyes on, had declared war on the new popular kid, which could jeopardize her own reputation in the process, and he couldn’t help but to hope it was loosely tied back to him. Either way, Steve was twitterpated with her.

“I think I love you.”

His brash comment flushed Steve’s cheek a scarlet as deep as Carol’s fingertips. As if falling in the lake weren’t mortifying enough, he’d gone and said one of the dumbest possible things to Beth. His stomach only began to plummet to the ground when she spoke back, its descent turning from a freefall into somersaults of butterflies.

“I like you, too, Steve. A whole lot. But there’s plenty of time to talk about this later- when you’re sober and a little less concussed. Right now, let’s just get some sleep, okay?”

Beth tucked him in on the couch and set aside some pain killers for when he woke up with a hangover and healing wounds. Steve refused to stay put until she cuddled up against him on the pull-out. He sighed out in a happy relief.

Steve may have gotten his ego bruised beyond recognition that night, but all he cared about was the girl who stayed to nurse his wounds. He didn’t think he deserved Beth. Beth could have gone home with Billy and let his faint-hearted attempt to let her go work, but there was one thing far more important than any of that:

She loved her stupid boy.