So I’ve Been In And Out Of Hospitals As My Condition Is Getting Bad To Worse

so can we start hunting down white liberals now or what

CIGARETTES & DIOR 𝙸

with some editing here and beta reading by @raelwrites the loml, my biggest motivator, there, we have a first part to the series!;

enemies steve harrington and reader, follows along with 'weirdo on maple street'

[if anyone wants to be tagged let me know]

 objectively, you suppose you could call steve a nice-looking guy. attractive, perhaps. maybe even dateable. subjectively, you know, deep in the very marrow of your bones, steve harrington is probably the worst person you have ever had the displeasure of knowing.

 sure, tommy hagan was a douche and carol perkins was a stuck-up bitch but steve- oh, but king steve ‘the hair’ harrington was so so much worse. and there wasn’t really anything that made you feel this way—not anything you could sensibly give as reasoning anyway. yet the way he strutted about, flocked by his little gang of bullies, like some overgrown peacock just made your blood boil and skin flush with anger.

 which is why, when nancy wheeler strode up to you with barbara in tow, you were not only worried but mentally figuring out where steve would be that during lunch to give him a good bollocking because nancy looked frazzled.

 “nance-” you slammed your locker shut. “lovely to see you.” it wasn’t. you were still half convinced this whole dating steve thing was a ploy to get you two acting civil with each other. never going to happen, sorry nance.

 she started with your name, “-listen,” this should be good. “we were invited to a party...” oh god. “would you be willing to come with us?”

 fuck.

 “how much choice do I have, exactly?” your hunch said not much.

 “please?” called it. “we would really like it if you could come.” damn nancy and your fondness for your friends all to hell.

 you shift, throwing an arm around the ginger beside you, “yeah, alright.” you sigh, “but I’m only going for barb and free booze.” which was only partly a lie, so you didn’t even feel that bad saying it.

 barbara giggles, exclaiming your name with a light shove to your shoulder. “It’s tonight by the way, we’ll pick you up.”

 tonight? “but It’s a tuesday.” who hosts a party on a fucking tuesday? “guys?” you go ignored as the bell rings immediately after, getting drowned out by the noise of scurrying bodies of passing students. nancy and barbara quickly bid their goodbyes and you solemnly schlump your way to next period, walking slower to prepare for an hour of sitting in the same room as steve.

 fucking tuesdays, man.

 the more you thought about it, the more you paced around your room. who’s hosting the party? neither nancy nor barbara would answer you when you asked repeatedly during class, which... definitely suspicious.

no matter, whoever it was and whoever was there, you would be the best dressed in attendance. what’s the point of going out if you can’t look hot whilst doing so?

you quickly spritzed some perfume when someone honked their horn outside your house, the girls had at least told you enough to know that it would be late evening when they came to grab you. you had slipped on your shoes and were prepared to leave before calling out to anyone still in the house.

 it was a cold night, though what november night isn’t. glad for the jacket you grabbed before leaving—even the short jog to the car had managed to leave a slight chill in your bones.

“well don’t you look like a million bucks-” and a call of your name greeted you as you situated yourself in the middle seat, flashing a grin at barbara as you tugged the seatbelt across.

 “why thank you, m’lady. and you both look dazzling, as always.” flattery will get you everywhere. currently, you were hoping that the flattery would get you at least the address for the party, or how many people might be there.

 “you smell like a million bucks too, jesus, just how rich are your parents?” nancy remarked, having turned to face you from the passenger seat.

 “enough that dior is my regular perfume, now-” you clap your hands together and lean forwards over the centre console. “don’t try to distract me, nance, where are we going?” if you were going to get any answers before arrival, you knew the only way was to just pester them enough that you got a reply out of annoyance. “c’moooon! just an itty-bitty name?” resting your elbows on your knees, you clasp your hands together in mock prayer.

 “you’ll find out when we get there.” you get a light shove to your face from nancy and huff a little in your seat. you couldn’t even fiddle with the music, a rule you three had declared at the start of your friendship.

“passenger seat passengers have control of music.” you had declared promptly and firmly when nancy had tried to reach from behind you to change the mix tape.

 “you’re just saying that because you don’t want to listen to madonna.” barbara chimed in from beside you, glancing at you before concentrating back on the road.

 “I’ll listen to madonna plenty if you’ll stop trying to change it to her while I’m enjoying kiss- hey!” you slapped away a giggling nancy’s hand from the radio in time to prevent the song from being changed.

 “you say that-” nancy began, still giggling through your name, “but I know you listen to abba, I’ve seen the tapes!”

 “you’ve seen shit, nance! ignore her, must’ve hit her head on the door.” you remarked, thwarting yet another attempt by the girl at reaching the radio.

 barbara merely laughed at you two, resolved to stay out of the radio debacle.

 though, on the way to the café after school you kept your promise, and the car was filled with four voices singing physical attraction.

 “barbara, pull over.” nancy suddenly exclaimed. to your knowledge, parties were usually held at a house, not in middle of a road. while the girls were busy talking you looked around the neighbourhood, surely something had to be familiar enough to pinpoint a location.

 “he just wants to get in your pants.” barbara scoffed from her seat. wait what?

 “woah-ho, hey… who wants to get in who’s pants?” you unbuckled your seatbelt quickly to shuffle forward, shoulder buckling with the back of nancy’s seat slightly.

 “steve-” barbara began, and suddenly the secrecy made sense.

 you recoil at his name, shouting out a protest, “what? nance, love, we’re going to steve’s?”

 “he invited nance to his house, his parents aren’t home…” barbara began listing, but you had gotten the message loud and clear at the first mention of his name.

 “come on, you are not this stupid.” barbara continued, and you knew now why this street was unfamiliar, if steve had to live somewhere here then you would have found every means possible to avoid even walking on the same pavement as him.

 “tommy h and carol are gonna be there.” nancy rebukes, though it’s kind of a shit reply. those two have been having sex since like seventh grade.

 “tommy and carol have been having sex since, like, seventh grade.” this is why you liked barbara. she even agrees with your thoughts.

 you decided to splay across the back seat while the pair continued talking, knowing whatever they talk about would involve steve, and that’s not a conversation you want to ever willingly partake in. plus, it’s not like you wanted to walk home at night in the cold when you were in a perfectly comfy and warm car.

 “woah woah woah, why is nance stripping?” you sat up, watching in confusion as the girl removed her jumper.

 “is that a new bra?” barbara questioned, face slack in disbelief. despite nancy’s negative reply, it probably was. you had raided both of their closets on multiple occasions for fun enough to recognise that you did not recognise the bra nancy was wearing.

 “jesus, girl. if you wanted to fuck, we could’ve found someone for you, didn’t have to go start dating steve fucking harrington for some mediocre dick.” when your comment went ignored save for a stifled giggle from barb, you left the car to follow the other two with a sigh.

 goddamn steve.

“all I’m saying is, you need to consult your friends when making these sorts of big decisions.” you were gesticulating wildly, needing to find some way to get rid of the slurry of emotions churning inside of you. “and you don’t get to blame this on my totally reasonable dislike of steve either. barb totally agrees with me, right?” you slung your arm over her shoulders, pulling her lightly into your side to stop the full body shaking.

 “barb, chill.” nancy chimed in from your other side, ignoring your comments.

 barbara leaned into you a little more, “I’m chill,” she replied.

 before you could make any further comment on the situation, the double doors in front of you three opened to reveal none other than the king himself.

 steve spares a fleeting confused glance at you before speaking, “hello ladies.” god he looked like an idiot. one hand on the door and the other on his hip, steve grimaced at you, “hello-” he grits your name out. there was a half-formed hope in you that it would shatter his teeth as he said it.

 you take a bow, “your highness,” you mock. if you’re stuck here, might as well have some fun, ey? “so, dweeb, what’s on the agenda for tonight? swapping books?” you push past steve, knocking shoulders as you go.

 “sacrificing virgins to the old gods, should be right up your alley, freak.” steve taunts back, moving out of the way to let nancy and barbara in.

 you twirl around to face steve, tugging your jacket off, “you flatter me, harrington. if anyone here needs to be scared of a virgin sacrifice it’s you.” you toss your jacket over the banister. the closer your stuff is to the door the faster you can high-tail out of steve’s house.

 you followed the others to the back porch of the house, throwing comments out about the décor to barbara. though it might’ve been a nice house, you would never admit that while steve was within earshot. the smug bastard would hold it over you for the next century.

 when the shrieking began from carol, you had immediately thrown out your disdain for the pool, “if anyone so much as attempts to throw me in I’ll cut your hair off while you sleep.” you wouldn’t actually do that… probably. but the others at the party didn’t need to know that.

grabbing a deck chair, you dragged it closer to barb. nancy was completely enamoured by the beast that is harrington and wouldn’t be good company so you sat as close to barbara as you could.

 “that’s not even remotely attractive.” you sneer, watching as steve shotguns one of the beers in the cooler. “how did that even happen? nancy and steve, god.” you weren’t really sure what barbara thought about the couple, having not been able to talk to her without nancy around but you were comforted by the displeased face she held. “if steve hurts a single hair on her head I’m gonna rip his out.” barbara giggled at that, so you smiled. barbara’s laugh could probably cure cancer.

 “yeah, she’s smart you douche!” tommy let out, which gained your attention because tommy being right was a once in a blue moon occurrence. he followed that statement up by crushing a can against his head and chucking it to the ground. like you said, once in a blue moon occurrence.

  “oh, come on nance you’re not seriously gonna shotgun that are you?” you exclaim, waving the hand that wasn’t across barb’s shoulders in the group’s general direction.

 you were ignored in favour of steve starting a chant as nancy pulled open the tab. tommy and carol joined in, speeding up and then hollering when nancy threw the can on the ground, empty. who knew all it took to get nancy wheeler to let loose was the grating voice of steve harrington?

 “barb, you wanna try?” nancy asked, already moving towards the cooler.

 “what? no.” and though you weren’t asked, you shook your head along with barbara. “no, I don’t want to. thanks”

 nancy picked up a can while steve chimed in with his own, unwanted, goading. “it’s fun! just give it a-” nancy was cut off, though, by yet another soft protest from barbara.

 “nance, she said no. cut it out.” you moved to sit up, preparing to stand if necessary.

 “just- just give it a shot.” and with that barb stood up, having taken the can nancy gave her. you watched, tense, from your seated position just behind her as she moved the small blade to puncture the can. even before the motion was made, you were beginning to stand up and when barb suddenly dropped the can and blade all together you huddled up to her, cradling her bleeding hand.

 “fuckin’ told you shitheads…” you grumble, inspecting the cut as best as you could in the low light.

 “where’s your bathroom?” barb asked, voice shaky. to which steve, useful for once, quickly pointed out the directions for both you and barb. past the kitchen and to the left. easy enough to remember.

 “he better have a fucking first aid kit in there-” you quickly opened the door for barb before stepping in after her. “how’s the hand? does it feel swollen? heating up?” you moved to rummage through the cupboards as you question, hoping to find at least a bandage.

 “heating up? is that meant to happen to cuts?” barb sat down on the closed toilet seat, smiling faintly at the sight of you rushing around as much as you could in the enclosed space. “I’m ok, really. it looks worse that it is, I promise.”

 you make a positive noise from inside the cupboard, having found both a disinfectant for cuts and some bandages. “I’ll only believe you if you let me help take care of it-” you start, moving to crouch next to the girl and taking her injured hand in yours. “it’ll sting, probably.” you warn before slowly dragging the cloth dipped in disinfectant across the cut, stopping every so often as barb flinches.

“et voila! one bandaged hand to go.” it took barely 10 minutes to complete, but any spare moment with barb you would take. “let’s go find nance before she gets eaten by harrington.”

 the both of you exit the bathroom laughing, though it dies the second you notice nancy on the stairs, following behind steve and wrapped in a towel.

 “nance,” you called out.

 “nancy,” barbara joins, “where are you going?” she asks once nancy turns to look at you.

 “nowhere… just, upstairs. to change.” because that doesn’t sound suspicious. and sure, she looks like a wet puppy, but you’re reminded instantly of the conversation had in the car. “I… fell in the pool. why don’t you go ahead and go home, I’ll just… I’ll get a ride or something.”

 “what the fuck?” you whisper, yeah super fun party nancy, thanks for the invite. you can’t help but scowl at her.

 “nance…” nancy repeats your names back at you. “this isn’t you.”

 “I’m fine.” that sure sounded like a goodbye. “just… go ahead and go home, okay?” well, how nice.

 nancy turned and walked up the remained stairs, and you scoff at the interaction that just occurred.

goddamn steve.

 “we can head back to mine, I can make us some food and we can marathon some tapes left from last week,” you suggest, moving to grab your jacket you knew you had hung on the banister. it wasn’t there. “fuckers moved my jacket, hold on.” you took the stairs two at a time to quickly get to the second floor when barb called out.

 “I’ll wait outside.”

 making a noise of agreement, you knocked on every door as loud as you could, knowing only the party guests were in the household. “hey shitheads! where’s my jacket?” you bang on a few more doors before stumbling across your jacket on the floor in front of you.

 at this point, you really wanted to leave. so, with a scoop of your jacket and a cursory pat down the pockets to check everything is where it should be, you hop down the stairs giddy at the thought of spending more time with barb.

 “got my jacket!” you called out. you glance around the living room before moving to the back porch only to still not see barbara anywhere. “barb?” you call out again, confused at the sudden vanishing of her presence. did she not want to hang out with you? isn’t that a kick in the heart, huh.

“could’ve fucking said something, at least.” you scoff. that’s another friend to abandon you in one night, not even an hour apart.

you shrug your jacket on while looking around despite there not being a trace of barbara anywhere. with a grimace you turn around to head out, ignoring the rustles of the bushes in front of you, no point in standing around when you had a nice warm bed calling out your name back at home to nap and wallow in.

It's his song

Sunlight / Roman Roy Imagine

Request: I would love to get some sort of a happy ending for Roman!! Maybe post-finale him and his girlfriend/wife/whatever run away from New York and do their own thing?

Oh my gosh love I so agree with you!! Let us give this man a hug and some love pls I beg <3 

Warning: strong language, mentions of smoking, mentions of death, mentions of blood/injuries, Logan Roy being homophobic, sexual innuendo, mentions of childhood abuse!

The vibe I was going for in this is based on ‘Romulus’ by Sufjan Stevens, so I highly recommend listening to it while reading this - it’s one of my all time favourite songs!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @924inlegend.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Roman Roy couldn’t remember the last time he had actually felt the warmth of light, instead of just observing its strands.

He had spent so much of his life withering obediently within the shadows. So many years curled up tight underneath his bedframe, shaking with fear and snivelling into his kneecaps as the cast shadows of his austere room seemed to creep inch by inch towards his toes; the pressure of bone was so tight against the bridge of his nose that he nearly burst blood from his left nostril. That’s where you would always look first: you would kneel down slowly and lift the edges of his silk sheets, as if you were a curious ornithologists trying their best not to frighten the wild nest of a flight-inclined bird. The first thing he would notice, before he caught side of your hand sliding out to grip him across the floorboards, was how the faint light  seemed to make the fringes of your head glow with strands of silver, like warm moonlight falling through the fresh sprigs of silver maples that brushed across the slats of his windowsill. 

It had made him gasp.

He had spent so long living behind the colossal shadow of his father’s form: curled up, deferential, strangled. It was so stifling there, so dank and claggy that he used to become saturated with the feeling. It used to sink into his clothes, his skin, his muscles, until he was so laden that they began to move of their own accord; after long enough time being asphyxiated, his limbs began to seep life from his father, mimicking his harshness with shoving twitches of his arms, moving his choking jaw with Logan’s fury and repeating his apathy. You would stop their movements by touching his hand where he sat, despondent, at his father’s business dinners. Seeing him look so downtrodden, the familiar hunch of his back becoming more and more prominent as he slouched, you frowned, and he made no reply. He was busy trying not to notice the stern gaze of his father, the red hot fury burning like a demon’s wrath in his eyes, warning him to duck his head and behave. 

To try and cheer him up, you balanced your fork above your mouth in a makeshift moustache, and tried do to your best impression of his father’s new chief financial officer Karl. At fifteen, he still had enough life in him left to let a laugh burst out at that, but he quickly stifled it by shoving the back of his free hand against his mouth. He bit down until he could feel the familiar taste of tangy blood run freely against his wiping tongue, and he felt better. But you, oh you, your infectious laughter rang freely into the warmth of the lavender infused air, and filled an adoring Roman Roy with feeling he never wanted to forget.

The slap he received from his father in the kitchen afterwards was the first time he has lost a tooth, yet he still dared to chime in with your giggles until he was gasping for air. 

Weiterlesen

Scintilla

An omega Steve Harrington x alpha reader fic- where Steve hides his secondary gender, nears the last of his heat suppressants, and resorts to anonymously ask the reader, a known 'omega' at the school to buy him some. Unbeknownst to him though, the reader aids the other 'hidden' omegas in the school to get them their suppressants without rumours circulating- The exchange of gifts between the two, which may lead to something... bigger?

So uh- this is my first Stranger Things fic, and truth be told I am still halfway through the first season, but Steve was to pretty for his own good, and uh- I love him sm- so here we are.

All my love and appreciation to my wonderful friend, @mysyerious who kindly beta read the fic, and supported the creation of this fic- ily sm, and thank you so much!!!

Masterlist

Scintilla: a spark or a trace of something

Ah, the small town of Hawkins. A place you had been born in. Where everyone knew everyone- which was simultaneously a good thing and a bad thing. A good thing in a sense, because people would notice if you went missing or if you wound up dead. At least you’d be found pretty early on. A bad thing, because everyone- literally everyone knows a lot about you. Not only that-

“More heat suppressants, eh?”

You nodded absentmindedly. The clerk ringing up your things gave you a knowing smirk.

“Y’know, heats usually pass by quicker if-”

You knew what was coming next. It was going to be the usual thing- an offer to quote unquote ease away the bi-annual occurrence.

Alphas and omegas were rare. Even rarer in a small place like Hawkins. Which meant- Rumours flew quickly. Gossips and whispers trailed behind those who bought heat suppressants and scent blockers.

“Fuck off,” you hissed out, shoving the wad of cash onto the counter before shoving the boxes of heat suppressants and scent blockers into your open bag.

You swiped the change the clerk handed you and glared at the man, to which he responded to with a shrug.

“Not my fault you’re the only omega around this place.”

You didn’t even bother to respond, instead pulling up your turtle neck sweater up to your nose, your lips tugging into a snarl.

You stomped out of Melvald’s General store, and let the slightly cool breeze brush your bare skin.

Despite the rumours and the whispers surrounding you- following you- you weren’t the only omega in Hawkins. Hell, you weren’t even an omega.

You were an alpha. One that bought necessities for the younger, hidden omegas. You were the one to direct all the rumours- the stereotypical jabs, the whispers and gazes- towards yourself.

You would endure it. The judging looks you got as you strutted down the halls, head held high, your scent forcibly pushed down. If they believed you were an omega, then you would allow them to think that.

The grateful looks thrown your way by the omegas you were protecting- the small parcels of sweets in your locker- notes of thanks, scrawled on a lined piece of paper or on the back of a half-completed worksheet- those all made you continue to help them all.

Even if you wanted to get out of this shitty place as soon as you could.

~ ♥~

You weren’t particularly fond of Hawkins High. It was a… school. Nothing more, and nothing less. Bustling of students- whispers and giggles- creaking of metal- the swirling of different scents merging into one. Lavender, tinges of nutmeg, and other scents you couldn’t place a finger on.

You leaned against your locker, letting your cheek rest on the cool metal momentarily before opening it to get your notebooks and folders. But something fluttered from in between the pages of your book.

The crumpled piece of paper slowly fell down onto the dirty hall floor and you were quick to step on it to prevent it from flying away somewhere else.

You were used to the fleeting, fading scents of your… ‘regulars’ on pieces of paper and wrapping. But this one- you lifted the paper to your face, sniffing slightly- you didn’t know it. That was weird. Mainly because you prided yourself in your ability to distinguish between different scents and matching them to the person. For example, Jonathan Byers had a faint, woody scent- oak. Nancy Wheeler had a scent so soft that it usually was smothered by the other scents around her- but you could smell it. The scent of detergent- of freshly done laundry.

But this? You don’t think you’ve ever smelt this metallic scent before. Not in this school- and not in this town.

You looked at the scrawled words written on the piece of paper.

Junkyard. 10 p.m. 3 bottles of suppressants + 6 sticks of scent blockers Leave them on the ground and go.

You scoffed slightly and neatly folded the piece of paper. This person was rude- weren’t they? You contemplated on whether or not you should just drop it on the ground and leave it there. Their words were demanding- and not at all polite. You weren’t really picky about attitudes, but- the words written rubbed you the wrong way.

Three bottles of heat suppressants? And six scent blockers? This omega must be desperate. And you did start buying all these omegan products to help them- the omegas who needed all these things but were afraid of the judgement of being one.

You looked down at the paper, rubbing the note with the pad of your thumb. You tilted your head up when you could feel a prickling stare at the top of your head. But- in front of you was the quote unquote popular kids; Tommy, Carol, and Steve.

You must have been imagining the sensation. The three of them wouldn’t pay attention to you. They were betas, and Harrington was an alpha. And you were, as perceived by the larger student body, an omega. Someone that should be ignored.

“Fuck it,” you lowly muttered, before shoving the piece of paper into your pocket. If this person wanted help, then you would give them help. It was what your inner alpha wanted to do. You didn’t have a pack of your own, so you would be content with taking care of other omegas. Maybe form a couple bonds.

As you twirled on your heels to make your way over to your homeroom, you could swear that you’d heard a near inaudible, relieved sigh.

~ ♥~

“Fuck.” Steve hissed out, as he rummaged through his room, fumbling under his clothes and other discarded objects for his bottle of suppressants. “Fuck.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a low uncontrollable snarl escaping his lips. His parents had been gone for a while- and they had been the ones to buy him these suppressants- away from this town- from the city. Nobody wanted an omega to sully the family name.

Thankfully though, he saw the glimmer of white under one of his sweaters. He immediately scrambled over to the bottle strewn on the ground. He lifted it to his ear and shook it, grimacing slightly at the rattling of the pills. He didn’t have a lot left. He could last a day? Maybe two, if he took half of what he normally took.

Either way, he was screwed.

Then, his mind flickered to you. The town’s ‘only’ omega. He knew you weren’t the only one. Steve’s inner omega might be suppressed and near non-existent, but his sense of smell was still better than most. He had sensed a couple of softer scents lingering near you. Scents he instinctively knew to be of an omega- or omegas.

And he also knew you bought a shit ton of suppressants each week. Both Carol and Tommy had mocked you for that. Making jokes about how you didn’t need those pills- that people would gladly help you through it-

Steve shoved those memories at the back of his mind. Instead, he ripped a piece of lined paper from one of his notebooks to quickly scribble note onto it. Scent blockers and suppressants- you would have some, right? Hell, nobody could go through all those bottles in a week-

He had to be careful though. He grabbed the stick of scent blocker to lather it onto his neck- right where his scent gland was. The instructions pasted on the stick had warned him to not apply it directly on his gland but- his dad had told him that this way was better. This way, his scent wouldn’t have the chance to touch the air.

Steve crumpled the piece of paper before shoving it unceremoniously into his pocket. He threw the stick of blockers onto his bed before pulling on a sweater.

Hopefully, you’d help him.

~ ♥~

You fiddled around with the piece of paper as you took a bite of your sandwich. Three bottles? Of suppressants? You were lucky that Pam was out of town this week. You could give her share of the meds to this mysterious omega.

You had asked your friends- the ones you took care of- but all had told you that this scent- the metallic tang of it- was something they had all not smelt before. Which meant that there was a possibility that this note was a trap of some sort.

Dean, who had taken a seat next to you during homeroom, had taken a look at the note and had vehemently insisted that you not go. You didn’t know who this was. He didn’t know who this was- what if you got hurt? What if you died trying to help others?

You had waved off his concern, patting his shoulder softly when you sensed his hold on his omegan scent slip. There hadn’t been a death or a disappearance in this town for a long while. You were safe.

Something was placed on the table in front of you. You were snapped out of your thoughts, and your gaze immediately flickered to the carton of juice with a sticky note reading ‘<3’ stuck on it.

And from the cheer uniform and the pony-tail swaying behind her, you knew that this was from Maria- another one of your regulars. She was less open with being seen with you, but she was a nice girl. Appreciative of what you did for her. Smiling and thanking you every time you slipped in what she asked of you into her bag.

You smiled to yourself before taking out the straw and sipping the juice, humming lowly under your breath.

Your good mood was dampened, however, by the sensation of something cold and wet being poured down on the top of your head.

You grimaced as you felt the liquid drip down your face, and onto your shirt. You immediately stood up from your seat, a near feral growl ripping from your lips as you turned around.

Only to come face to face with the asshole trio. Tommy, holding a now empty cup, with a shit-eating grin on his face. Carol, giggling with her arm looped around his. And Steve, who was smirking at your current predicament.

Your inner alpha was a snarling mess- you didn’t deserve this. You could easily rip the three of them a new one- you would win-

You took in a deep breath. No. You could endure this. You were fine. The shirt could be salvaged, and it wasn’t like Tommy poured sticky juice over you. It was just water. It would dry.

You reigned in your inner alpha. You can’t let your secondary gender slip now- you had too much to lose. If you exposed yourself as an alpha now, there would be more questions- about why you were buying heat suppressants. Why you were hoarding them-

“Oops.”

You were very close to snapping. Your hold on your scent was loosening. From the corner of your eye, you could see Dean look at you worriedly, and his posture half standing up, as if he were ready to run over to you. You subtly shook your head.

You opened your mouth to make a scathing remark, but-

Slightly callused fingers, warm and slightly smooth from the rings covering them, wrapped around your wrist and you could feel yourself being pulled along. You saw your friend give the trio a wide grin before flipping them all off. The earthy, petrichor scent engulfed you as you were briskly led out of the crowded cafeteria and out of the school building.

A familiar denim jacket was thrown into your arms when you shivered slightly as a cool breeze washed over you. You shrugged it on, nestling into the warmth that it provided you.

“Thanks, Eds.”

“Those fucking assholes.” He hissed out, as he slumped onto the metal bench. You followed suit, leaning your head against his shoulder. “You good?”

You wiped some of the remaining liquid from your forehead and nodded. You closed your eyes and sat in a rather comfortable silence.

You couldn’t wait to escape this shitty school- and the town. Just a couple more years.

“You wanna ditch this place?”

You popped your eyes open and grinned widely, to which Eddie responded with a slightly unhinged grin of his own.

“Thought you’d never ask, Munson.”

~ ♥~

“Huh. The freaks ran off together.” Carol said, as she settled on a bench next to Tommy. “How adorable.”

Steve simply nodded along to her words, thinking back to your expression and the subtle change in your scent when you turned to glare at them.

Carol and Tommy hadn’t noticed, but he did. An almost instinctive chill ran up his spine, and for a split second, he felt as if he couldn’t do anything but freeze. Something was up with you.

As he listened to the two talk more, he pushed his thoughts away. He didn’t need to think about this- about you. He just needed the meds- just until his parents came back to get him some more.

Then he’d never speak or interact with you again.

~ ♥~

It was dark. Nearly pitch black. You could just barely see the scraps of metal and junk in this yard. Why this person wanted you to drop off the bottles here of all places, you didn’t know.

Three bottles, as well as six scent blockers. All packed neatly in a plastic bag. You had also slipped in something sweet- a piece of hard candy you considered a guilty pleasure for yourself.

The junkyard was quite big, and truth be told, you didn’t know where to put this. Should you mark it to make sure this person picked it up correctly? You fiddled with one of your rings- a silver one, in the shape of a coiled dragon, one you had picked up from a yard sale- and pulled it off. You messed about with the bag and the ring, eventually being able to push a piece of plastic through it.

Satisfied with your handywork, you stood up from your crouch and nodded to yourself.

Hopefully, the person would see it. And maybe, next time, they would be less demanding.

~ ♥~

Steve emerged from behind a large piece of junk as he watched you walk away and get in a car. One he assumed was Munson’s- judging by the rainy scent lingering nearby.

He made his way over to the plastic bag, pulling off the silver ring from it to push it into his pocket. He checked to see if you had, true to your reputation, given him the right meds. And he let out a relieved sigh when he saw the familiar label of the suppressants.

You had delivered.

He frowned when he saw a neatly folded piece of paper nestled in between the bottles of suppressants. Steve pulled the note out and attempted to read it with the glimmer of light in the distance.

Hello, stranger. I don’t know you, but apparently, you know me. I won’t ask any questions. But I need to know. Are you a student at Hawkins High? Also, do you want me to keep supplying you with all this?

Steve thought momentarily. To be frank, he didn’t really know when his parents would be back. And truth be told, he didn’t know if they would remember to buy him the suppressants- hell, he didn’t even know if his parents would even remember that he was an omega-

He made a decision. One that he hoped he wouldn’t regret later on.

~ ♥~

You opened your locker, yawning. You really needed a coffee this morning. You groaned and knocked your forehead onto the cold metal of your locker. You really didn’t want to come to school today. A chemistry test- Sure, you studied for it. Reading your notes whilst Eddie threw pieces of popcorn at you, blasting Metallica with a shit eating grin on his lips.

You half expected all your books and pieces of paper to spill onto the ground, but you were pleasantly surprised when instead, you were greeted with a single stem of a white flower- a daffodil- stuck on the inside of your locker.

Next to it, was yet another note, tinged with that unknown metallic scent.

Yes. Same time + place next week?

You snorted at the curt words written on the lined paper. Whoever this person was- they were really aloof, weren’t they? Hell, they didn’t even return your ring! You liked that one. You got it for like fifty cents, but if was neat- and you were sure Eddie wanted it-

You plucked the daffodil from its place on your locker to tuck it behind your ear. You huffed slightly. At least this person gave you a flower- you’d forgive them this time.

“Keep your secrets, Harpocrates.” You muttered as you pulled the textbooks and folders that you needed for your classes. “Not that it matters to me. But I liked the ring.” You pulled out a well-thumbed edition of the Odyssey and slipped the note in between the pages. “Hey, as long as you keep giving me flowers, you’ll be forgiven.”

You felt it again. A burning gaze drilling into you. You quickly lifted your head to catch the brown eyes of the one and only ‘King’ Steve Harrington. You couldn’t place a finger on the expression gracing his features.

You held his gaze, raising your eyebrows at him. What? Did he have a problem with you? People thought you were weird either way. So, you were going to be weird whilst simultaneously being pretty.

Before you could say anything to him, an arm slung lazily around your shoulder, and the scent of petrichor hit you.

“You need something, Harrington?”

That expression was gone in an instant, instead replaced with what seemed like… faux swagger?

“No.”

“Then us freaks shalt be off.” Eddie said, giving the other a mock bow. You followed suit, as you tucked the fresh flower more securely. It would be a shame for this pretty flower to fall down onto the ground, only to be trampled under the shoes of the other students walking along this hallway. “Come on. Your dungeon master requires your presence.”

You rolled your eyes and snorted at Eddie’s emphasis on ‘dungeon master’.

“Don’t make it weird, pretty boy,” you said, to which he tilted his head back to laugh at.

And you left your locker, strutting confidently with your friend. The soft scent of daffodils following you as you walked.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes followed you until you slipped into your homeroom.

~ ♥~

Steve didn’t know what to feel when you tucked the flower- one he had impulsively picked- behind your ear. He didn’t know why he did it. But something had urged him to do it, and before he could fully comprehend what he was doing, the white flower was clenched in his hand.

He really didn’t have a choice, so he decided to just stick it in your locker with the reply to your note.

He had no idea what to do with the ring- it was an extravagant one, with detailed engravings on it- should he return it to you?

But before he could have contemplated further, he had seen Tommy and Carol walk towards him so, he had hurriedly hidden the ring deep down in his pockets.

Steve had wanted to ask- why did you leave your ring behind? Why did you wear the flower? Did you know he was this mysterious person? Is that why you were thinking out loud? For him to hear?

But when your eyes, curious, yet guarded, met with his, he knew that wasn’t the case. Even though he had all these questions in mind, he couldn’t bring himself to ask them. He seemed to freeze- like a deer in headlights-

And just when he gathered his wits to actually talk to you? Munson stepped in, his earthy scent very quickly covering yours- arm draped around your shoulders.

Truth be told, he didn’t know why he was so interested in you. He could have just waited for his parents to get him more meds. He had enough at home right now- but-

Steve rolled the silver ring in between his fingers as he walked over to his own homeroom.

You piqued his interest. You, with your subtle considerations and the somewhat strange atmosphere surrounding you. But- should he approach you? Give up on this ‘popular’ life he had meticulously built up since freshman year?

~ ♥~

“So.” Pam said, as she plopped down onto the cafeteria bench next to you, her tray clattering onto the plastic table. “A new customer, ay?”

“Wait- you’ve met them? Whoever it is?” Dean asked, as he reached towards your lunch tray to place his cup of jell-o onto yours.

You nodded, before brandishing your weathered copy of the Odyssey. You smiled at your friends as you brandished the daffodil, pressed in between two pieces of paper towels.

The two omegas looked at the flower, so carefully placed in between the pages, and they gave you a slightly incredulous look.

“…What?”

“I swear, most of your uh-” Dean hesitated momentarily “-‘customers’ give you shit like this- hell, I’ve probably given you more baked treats than I can even fucking remember-”

“I know.” You huffed out, as you peeled open the jell-o he had given you. “But nobody’s given me flowers.”

Your fingers gently ghosted over the fragile petals.

Pam snorted, making you snap your eyes towards her. You tilted your head to the side questioningly. Dean’s eyes were on her as well. She simply shook her head.

“Nothing- it’s just.” Pam shuffled to make space for Eddie, who had apparently decided to sit with you instead of the rest of the Hellfire club. “Didn’t take you for the romanticising type.”

Eddie laughed before wheezing out your name a couple of times. You glowered at him and nudged his side with your elbow.

“-is the sappiest person I know-”

“Shut up Munson-”

He simply stuck his tongue out at you, swiping at the unopened cup of jell-o on your tray.

“Always dreaming about what you would do when you eventually got bonded to someone-”

“Oh?” Dean said, a small grin forming on his lips. “I thought you never wanted one. I mean- that’s what you’ve told me, at least.”

“I mean- being bonded to someone as an omega’s probably gonna suck,” Pam said, a small pout on her face. She phrased it so that it would seem to be empathic to you, but all three of you knew the truth. She was expressing her own laments in regards to being one.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, his own voice soft and dejected. Male omegas were definitely treated worse- just like female alphas. Both had the stigma of being abominations of nature, for some strange reason.

A beat of silence passed between all of you.

“Well, if all goes wrong.” You said, reaching over to pat at the two omegas’ hands. “I can just live with some other omegas.”

You ignored the tang of guilt digging into your heart when you saw them perk up at your words.

You saw the apprehensive look Eddie sent over your way, but you subtly shook your head. Nobody was going to find out you were an alpha.

Nobody.

~ ♥~

That was how it went on for a while. You would drop off the plastic bag filled with suppressants and a note- along with one of your many rings. You had to drag Eddie to get some more, and he helped pick out some new ones.

(“Get the one with the skull.”

“I have like five of those already, Eds.”

“The more the better-”

You bought the ring.)

The weeks dragged on. On the second week, a white tulip. Slipped into your locker, along with a small, scribbled note with a single sentence: ‘I’m sorry- Do you want your rings back?’

On the third, a yellow lily. Placed with more care than the previous two flowers. Yet another note, less crumpled and the writing slightly neater, with a single question: ‘Why do you call me Harpocrates?’

At the month mark, a dahlia as well as a cosmos- both red hued flowers stuck neatly onto your locker door. As well as another note- one that had fluttered to the floor. You quickly picked it up before anyone else could see. You let out a quiet laugh when you read the note, garnering a lot of weird stares-

‘Should I be flattered? You did technically call me a god-’

You tucked the flowers behind both of your ears, grinning widely. Flitting about the halls in a rather eccentric manner, with Eddie laughing along with you whilst Pam and Dean looked on fondly.

That week was a strange one- with Carol and Tommy making their usual jabs at you- about ‘being an omega’ as well as the flowers tucked carefully behind your ears. Eddie had been all ready to get his knuckles bruised when he saw the flicker of self-consciousness on your face. But before he could, it was Steve who snapped at his two friends to stop.

Yeah- that was a weird week. Especially when the suave, confident, ‘King of Hawkins’ didn’t meet your eye.

The fifth week, no note, but a single, blue stem of a hyacinth (Pam had declared, as she slammed an encyclopaedia of flowers on the lunch table, making both you and Eddie scramble back with your trays).

Shit hit the fan however, when the sixth week came.

~ ♥~

That was how it went on for a while. Steve picked up the bag of suppressants and scent blockers every week at the junkyard behind his home. And he would visit the florist before going to school the next day. The florist- a soft, wintery smelling beta- somehow giving him a flower and telling him what each one meant.

The second week, a white tulip in exchange for a silver, skull shaped ring- as well as a note. A white tulip, as an apology- for keeping your ring. The second ring took its place next to the first one on his windowsill.

On the third, a yellow lily. More carefully placed into your locker. Steve took care in writing more neatly this time- a response to the note (‘Nope- Keep them, Harpocrates. A gift for a gift, yeah?) he received the week before. The florist, with black hair and green eyes- someone he didn’t know lived here- telling him that the particular flower meant gratitude. He had clenched the flower in one of his hands whilst the other played with the slightly spiked ring he had hidden deep into his pocket.

At the month mark, the florist had given him two flowers- a dahlia and a cosmos. The former meaning kindness, and the latter meaning harmony. He placed both flowers, as well as the response to your note (The god of secrets and silence- you’re not telling me anything about yourself, Harpocrates.) in your locker.

And he watched, as he nodded along to whatever Carol was saying, smiling to himself when he heard the peal of laughter escaping your lips. The smile growing slightly bigger when he saw you tuck the flowers behind your ears.

Normally, he would have tolerated his friends’ jabs at you- because he didn’t know you, and he needed this position as the popular kid in the school- but-

He had smelt how the petrichor scent of the beta standing beside you soured when your expression faltered, and your shoulders curl up on yourself.

Steve had demanded Carol and Tommy stop, his fingers slipping into his jean pocket to fiddle with the latest ring you had left behind- a simple silvery-black band. And the two stopped, simply shrugging at him.

He could feel your gaze on him, but- for some reason, he couldn’t meet your eyes. Maybe he was afraid of seeing the contempt in them- the judgement? maybe? So, he had simply left for his homeroom, without another glance at you.

The fifth week, he didn’t wait for the florist to give him a flower. Steve had immediately asked for a flower- for an apology. His friends- his friends were being assholes. And he hated to see you look so… dejected. He couldn’t find the time to respond to your note from before (‘I am loving the flowers, Harpocrates- I hope you could see me wear them at school.’) but he did choke on air when he read it.

Shit hit the fan, however, when week six came.

~ ♥~

“What do you mean, you’re out?” you hissed out, your hackles raised and voice rough.

The clerk raised his hands in surrender.

“I don’t know- the latest stock of heat suppressants didn’t come.”

You growled lowly- nearly inaudibly- as you stuffed your hands into your hoodie’s pockets in a rather annoyed manner.

“Just wait another couple of weeks- your heat’s probably not going to hit soon, right?”

You simply glowered at the beta before turning to stomp out of the general store.

It was fine. You had some suppressants as well as some scent blockers stored away in the back of your closet. It wasn’t a lot, and it sure as hell wasn’t enough to satisfy everyone’s needs but-

It would have to do.

And if the meds weren’t stocked soon, you would make your way to the nearest town which had them.

~ ♥~

Steve furrowed his eyebrows when he saw the distinct lack of bottles in the bag you had left for him.

Did he do something wrong? Did you not give him what he needed because he didn’t respond to your latest note? He picked up the note, crumpled and stained with ink blots and read it.

I’m sorry, Harpocrates- there weren’t any suppressants in the store this week I’ll get around to buying some more in the next town over. Have some from my own stash instead.

A single bottle and three sticks of scent blockers. As well as a ring as usual. Gleaming silver, shaped in the form of a coiled snake, with what seemed like gemstones embedded in the place of where its eyes were.

It wasn’t enough, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to blame you. You had given some of yours to him, even if you were as impacted by this lack of stocks yourself.

In a sense, his lack of suppressants was his fault- he hadn’t spoken to his dad about needing more. And his dad hadn’t offered to get him more. His mom? She was more preoccupied with keeping an eye on his dad. It was fine though. He had to become less dependent on his parents for his necessities.

Steve rolled the bottle in his hands absentmindedly, his eyes flickering to the row of rings settled on his windowsill. The silver rings gleaming under the artificial light of his bedroom. He tilted his head back with a sigh as he bumped it onto the wall he was leaning on. His bed was soft under him- even without the use of the boxes of nesting materials shoved into the corner of his room.

Despite his parents buying these for him- most of them felt off. Some too soft- some too smooth. None of them truly meeting his standards.

He threw up the bottle and caught it in his hand. He had to ration his suppressants- taking two after every meal instead of four.

Steve ran his hand through his hair, sighing before placing the half empty bottle of pills onto the windowsill.

Nothing could go wrong. He just had to hold onto his scent harder.

Everything’ll be fine.

~ ♥~

You felt bad- guilty. You had allowed the omegas in this school to rely on you for their suppressants. And- you had failed to get them what they needed.

All of them were understanding- Pam and Dean patting your back as you muttered apologies as you collapsed onto their laps. Maria whispering to you as you passed her by the hall- reassuring you that it definitely wasn’t your fault. Hell, even Earl- one of the more standoffish individuals- pulled you to the side to tell you that it was ‘Hawkins being a shitty town’. He then left with a rough pat on your shoulder.

You huffed as you sat on your normal lunch table, next to Pam and Dean. Eddie was currently sitting with his club- and you would have joined him, but you didn’t want to make any of them uncomfortable.

“It’s fine, babe-” Pam said, as she leaned to bump her forehead to your shoulder.

“I promise I’ll go over to the town over- I can -fucking- hitchhike or something.”

“No,” both your friends said in unison.

“Just ask Eddie to give you a ride,” Dean said, as he bit into his PB & J sandwich.

You shook your head.

“Can’t- he has band practice today-”

You froze in the middle of your sentence when you caught it. The very subtle, nearly unnoticeable metallic tang brushing past you. A scent that most people wouldn’t notice or take care to.

But you had smelt this before. On the notes. On the flowers.

You quickly looked up and-

It was Steve Harrington.

It was fucking Steve Harrington.

You choked on air, making Dean pat your back worriedly. But you couldn’t bring yourself to pay any attention to him. Not when Steve’s brown eyes met yours-

And he seemed to notice the revelation you just had from the way his jaw twitched, and the way the metallic scent became fainter and non-existent.

A call of your name. You tore your eyes away from him and to your two omegan friends, who were looking at you in confusion and worry.

“-are you alright?”

Steve Harrington- the ‘King’ of Hawkins- the renowned alpha- the only alpha in the school- bought heat suppressants off of you. He took your rings and gave you flowers. He wrote the notes to you-

You nodded dumbly, your eyes fleeting over to the brown-haired boy, who was watching you carefully. Almost fearfully, as if he thought you were going to spill this secret of his.

“Yeah.” You said, finally getting a hold of your voice. You cleared your throat several times, taking a sip of your water. “I’m all good.”

Steve Harrington, the most popular boy in school- the strong, cocky alpha-

Was an omega.

Holy shit.

CIGARETTES & DIOR 4

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note: for anyone who's read the previous 3 chapters before chapter 4 was released, I'm currently rewriting them so some time this week they'll be updated!

beta read by the darling @raelwrites

—enemies (?) steve harrington X reader, follows along with 'the bathtub'

[#: @fixtionlover + anyone else who'd like to be tagged let me know]

 It only took a handful of minutes for Joyce Byers to show up. Though you’re not surprised. If you found out your child was at the police station, was arrested, you were sure you would be arrested too with how fast you’d drive.

 During those minutes, you stared at Nancy and Jonathan. You couldn’t help but entertain the ideas brewing in your head.

 But what if there was something going on between the pair. I mean, one look at them now and you’d figure they’d been together for months if you didn’t know better.

 Maybe you didn’t know better. If Steve was so panicked he’d come to you... well. But the more you think, the more you realise you’d been around the two most all times they had interacted, to your knowledge at least. If anything was going on, surely, you’d have noticed, right?

 Joyce knocks you out of your head when she arrives. “Hey. Jonathan? Jesus, what… what happened? Why is he wearing handcuffs?”

 “Well, your boy assaulted a police officer. That’s why,” One of the officers answered.

 Joyce wasn’t happy. “Take them off.”

 “I am afraid I cannot do that.”

 Joyce wasn’t happy at all. “Take them off!”

 “You heard her. Take ‘em off.” Hopper backs Joyce. You muffle a laugh. You’re pretty sure you’d find this exact dialogue in a shitty porno.

 “Chief, I get that everyone’s emotional here, but there’s something you need to see.” That doesn’t set you on edge, not at all.

 The box that the officers deposit on the desk 5 minutes later does, however. The rattle of ammo boxes, a gun, a fucking bear trap.

 “What is this?” Joyce questions, disbelief in her voice, as she sifts through the contents.

 “Why don’t you ask your son? We found it in his car.” Hopper replies, walking closer to the desk. You look over at Nancy with a confused furrow to your brow. She looks away.

 “Why are you going through my car?” Jonathan accuses.

Hopper leans over to stare at Jonathan directly. “Is that really the question you should be asking right now?” he moves back. “I wanna see you in my office.”

 “You won’t believe me.”

 “Why don’t you give me a try?”

 It seems, however, the other Hawkins residents had been going through similar frights as you had, because Hopper doesn’t even look that confused when he looks at the super-sized photograph of the monster.

 “You say blood draws this thing?”

 “We don’t know,” Jonathan replies.

 “It’s just a theory, Barb- she cut herself that night, we think she must’ve bled and attracted it,” Nancy continues, and you hadn’t heard about this theory before so you’re definitely missing something.

 Joyce throws Jonathan a look and the pair stand up. You quickly inhabit Jonathan’s abandoned seat next to Nancy.

You don’t even wait for the door to close behind Hopper before you ask, “Right. Fill me in, please? Because what’s up with that box o’ horrors back there?”

“When- when you were with Steve… me and Jonathan, we went into the woods…” She trails off, quiet, and you can feel your stomach twist.

 “Oh my god- are you okay? what happened? You should’ve come found me! or, like, called at least.”

 “Yeah- yeah, I am now… it’s alright. Jonathan took me home, I- sorry, that I didn’t call. Jonathan- we…” When Nancy pauses, your throat tightens. That was when Steve saw them together, wasn’t it?

 “You, you didn’t… like, get with him, did you? You had all night to ring, you know.”

 “What? No! no, no, no…-” Nancy grabs your hands. “I just, well, I- I saw… it, that, that thing- the monster in the photo.” She’s whispering now, voice shaking along with her hands.

 “And- and you’re okay now?”

 “I think so… Jonathan- he, he stayed with me, made sure I was ok. It just- calling you just slipped my mind, I’m sorry.” Your stomach drops a little.

 You pull her into a hug. “It’s okay, ‘m glad you’re ok, at least. It’s okay.” You whisper into her hair.

 If you say it enough, it might even come true.

 Nancy just holds on tighter.

 When Hopper fails to talk you into going home, unable to disagree with the fact that you’d already seen too much to not involve yourself, and when you follow Nancy into the backseat next to Jonathan, you had resigned yourself to the fate of never having a normal life again.

 Between interacting with Steve and coming out the other side unscathed and learning about government conspiracies and monsters in Hawkins, you’re not actually sure which surprises you more.

 “Do you have any idea where he might have gone to?” Hopper throws the question out, but you can barely keep track of where Nancy is these days, much less her kid brother.

 “No, I don’t.” Neither can Nancy, it seems.

 “I need you to think.”

 “I don’t know. We haven’t talked a lot. I mean, lately…”

 Joyce tries this time, attempts to prompt Nancy, “Is there any place that your… your parents don’t know about that he might go?”

 Again, Nancy can’t answer.

 You’re glad that your family isn’t as active in your life as other people’s are. The constant fear that something might happen to your friends is enough to have you on edge. If you had to factor in family? Unimaginable.

 “I might,” Jonathan says, “I don’t know where he is, but I think I know how to ask him.”

 “And how’d you figure that?” you ask.

 “Walkie-talkies. Will had one. I can bet Mike has his with him too, wherever he is.”

 Hopper pulls up to the Byers’ residence and before the car can even come to a full stop, Nancy and Jonathan have already hopped out. You stumble along with them and almost trip over your feet when you walk through the front door.

 Furniture askew, books everywhere, lights hanging like vines.

 “Don’t you think it’s a little early for christmas décor, guys?”

 Nancy elbows you but she looks just as surprised.

 When the group piles into Will’s room, you’re greeted by even more lamps and general disorder. Somehow, Joyce manages to find the walkie-talkie.

Nancy takes it from her instantly, sitting on the bed next to Joyce and turning the walkie on. “Mike, are you there? Mike? Mike, it’s me, Nancy.”

 Static. You hold your breath.

 “Mike, are you there? Answer. Mike, we need you to answer. This is an emergency, Mike. Do you copy? I need you to answer.”

 Static. You gnaw at your lip.

 “We need to know that you’re there, Mike.”

Static. You clench your eyes shut.

 Hopper grabs the walkie from Nance. “Listen, kid, this is the chief. If you’re there, pick up.”

 Static. Your hands shake.

 “We know you’re in trouble and we know about the girl. We can protect you; we can help you, but you gotta pick up. Are you there? Do you copy? Over.”

 Static. Your heart sinks.

 “Yeah, I copy.” The voice of Mike Wheeler cuts through the static. “It’s Mike. I’m here. We’re here.”

  You relax into the wall, boneless in relief.

 “What’s taking so long?” you break the silence. “They should be back by now, right?” your leg bounces. It was night, Hopper had left with the daylight.

 Suddenly, car lights flood the driveway and tires crackle on the gravel.

 The four of you pile outside after a beat, and Nancy jogs to hug her brother. “Mike. Oh, my god. Mike!” he stands, a little perplexed. “I was so worried about you.”

 “Yeah, uh… me, too,” Mike says, though it’s not very convincing.

 “Is that my dress?” When Nancy asks, you take in the remaining faces. Lucas and Dustin, obviously. But the girl you don’t recognise. She must be who everyone kept referring to, then.

 When everyone is seated at the table and introduced to each other, Mike starts to draw on a sheet of paper.

 “Okay, so, in this example, we’re the acrobat. Will and Barbara, and that monster, they’re this flea. And this is the upside down, where will is hiding.” He flips the paper so that everyone can see. “Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space.”

 “A gate.” Dustin elaborates.

 “That we tracked to Hawkins lab.” Lucas continues.

 “With our compasses.” When Dusting is met with blank faces, he explains, “okay, so the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field. And that can change the direction of a compass needle.”

“Is this gate underground?” Hopper asks.

El answers, “Yes.” It’s the first time she’s spoken since arriving.

 “Near a large water tank?”

 “Yes.”

 You look over to Hopper, baffled. “How do you know all that?”

 “he’s seen it,” Mike answers.

 “I-is there any way that you could… that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this-” Joyce croaks out, and you can’t begin to imagine how tough it must be. To know Will is alive, but still be unable to reach him.

 “The upside down,” El finished.

 “Down, yeah.”

 El nods.

 “And- and Barb? Barbara, can you find her too?” Nancy asks.

 El smiles.

 Static. You stay silent, watchful.

 The lights flicker.

 El turns looks out at everyone, tears in her eyes. You bow your head.

 “I’m sorry.”

 The chair scrapes obnoxiously when you stand.

 Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

 “W-what’s wrong? What hap- what happened?” Joyce asks.

 “I can’t find them.” El starts to cry, and you can feel your own eyes water.

 “So that’s it then, huh?” You sniffle, “nothing else we can do?” your eyes follow El as she’s shown the bathroom.

 “Uh- well-” Mike calls your name, draws your attention, “not exactly. Whenever she uses her powers, she gets weak.”

 “The more energy she uses, the more tired she gets,” Dustin continues.

 “Like, she flipped the van earlier,” Lucas says.

 “It was awesome.”

 “But she’s drained,” Mike explains.

 “Like a bad battery,” Lucas adds.

 “Is there no way to recharge that battery?” you ask.

 “No, we just have to wait and try again,” Mike answers.

 “Well, how long?” Nancy asks before you can.

 “I don’t know.”

“The bath,” El says, making both you and Joyce jump at her quiet appearance. “I can find them. In the bath.”

 Sometimes, you were glad for the involvement of police. With the speed that the car was going to reach Hawkins Middle School, you were sure had any cops caught you, you would’ve been pulled over.

 Having Hopper around made breaking laws quite fun.

 You were divided into little groups, each having a different task. Hopper and Jonathan went to get the salt; Mike, and Nancy the hose pipes; Joyce was with El getting her ready, and you were hauling a heavy tied up swimming pool across the floor of the gym with Dustin and Lucas.

 When you had managed to roll the pool to the centre of the court, you went about untying it and spreading it out.

 “Come on. it’s upside down,” Dustin says. You laugh, otherwise you might cry again.

 “No, this way.” Lucas twist and unravels his side of the pool.

 “How does this even work?”

 “Try that side.”

 “Son of a bitch.”

“Hey!” you exclaim, whirling around to face Dustin, “watch the language, teeny bopper. You’re like 10, how do you even know that?”

 “I’m 12!”

 “Try that side.” Lucas interrupts your argument. “Pull it back. Pull it back.”

 “I am!”

 “One, two, three.” At three, you let go of the pool sides and the thing collapses.

 “Shit!” both you and Dusting shout. You say nothing about that.

 “I’m guessing it’ll stay up when filled, right?” you tank on the pool sides once more. “I mean, it’s- it’s gotta. If this doesn’t work…” you trail off, huffing when the pool once again collapses in on itself. “There’s always the actual swimming pool,” you mutter dejectedly.

 You three go back to spreading the pool, lifting the sides, hoping.

 “Aha! We did it- step back, step back,” Dustin calls, and the doors open to Nancy and Mike wheeling in the hose pipes, followed by Hopper and Jonathan with the salt, and Joyce with El.

 You move over to Dustin as Mike drops two ends of hose into the pool, and as water starts pouring in, you clap Dustin on the back lightly. “You’re a genius.”

 “Thanks -,” he says your name, “but without Mr. Clarke, we wouldn’t have known how to do any of this.”

 You grin. “But without your idea we would still be at the Byers’, grasping at straws.

 Dustin grins back.

 “Colder!” Lucas shouts, holding the thermometer in the steadily rising water. “Warmer!” he shouts again. “Right there!” and the water stops.

 Once the temperature was fixed, Hopper and Jonathan begin to cut open the bags of de-icing salt, pouring them one by one into the pool.

 “How much was it we needed?” you ask Dustin.

 “Hold on,” Dustin says, crouching to open the carton of eggs by his side. When he places one in the water and it sinks, he calls out, “’Till the egg floats.”

 With that, you walk over to the bags and grab one, tearing it open with the knife Hopper passes you over the pool, throwing the empty bag into the pile.

 When you look over at Dusting and see that the egg he placed in the water bobbed on the surface of the pool, you drop the salt bag you had picked up with a sigh of relief.

 The walkie-talkie is set up on the trolley.

 Static.

 El takes her socks off and Joyce hands her duct taped goggles, guiding the girl into the pool when she puts them on.

 Almost the second she lays down and floats, the lights in the hall begin to flicker and then go out.

 El’s breathing starts to quicken, and the lights flicker once again.

 “What’s going on?” Nancy whispers, looking around.

 “I don’t know,” Mike answers.

 “Is Barb, ok?” You ask, “is she ok?” you tighten your hold on Dustin’s shoulder, hands shaking.

 “Gone. Gone. Gone.” El repeats. You’re frozen still.

 Joyce attempts to comfort her but she continues to repeat ‘gone’. With every agonising repetition of the word, you can feel your face slacken more, shoulders drop, hands quiver.

 “Will?” El asks, and you can only just hear her. Joyce’s words don’t register through the buzzing in your ears.

 “Hurry.” Comes from the walkie-talkie.

 El sits up in a panic. Everyone jumps back, and you quickly remove your grip from Dustin’s shoulder when the boy moves.

 “I’ve got you,” Joyce comforts El, hugging her into her chest. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you. I got you, honey. You did so good.” You sort of feel like you might need a Joyce hug next.

 You don’t get a hug.

 After a moment of reconciliation and sharing of information, you follow Nancy to the far wall. Reclining on the cold bench by the mural, counting the blemishes in the ceiling as you wrap your mind around what you witnessed. Nancy sits by your feet.

 When the door slams, you startle and look over to see Jonathan coming closer. He sits next to Nancy. You look back to the ceiling.

 “We have to go bath to the station.” You hear Nancy say. “Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait. That thing is still in there. And we can’t just sit here and let it get them, too. We can’t.”

 “You still wanna try it out?” Jonathan asks.

 “I wanna finish what we started. I want to kill it.”

Persecution (Roy!Sibling x Roman Roy)

Character/s: Roman, Jeryd, Kendall, Shiv

Word Count: 1,465

Requested: Hihihi!!! Would it be okay to request? Or maybe just as inspiration or something: i'd love to see the dynamic between roy!siblingreader and roman and how he would interact with them trying/being the big brother to them like connor and kendall are especially takeing care of them or being protective? I have severe roman brainrot rn lol and i love how you write each of them and overall the way you use words and how alive it all feels! ♡- anon

Inspired By: Family Jewels by Marina

Warning/s: sexual harassment, harassment, men being creeps

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: You know I had to do it!!! You know I had to!!! I can't actually remember all of the election party episode, so this might be a bit off. My apologies!!! Stop my love, Roman makes my brain rot too he lives in there 24/7!!! Thank you for such kind words!!! I try my best :) I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

His hand lingers on the small of your back, on your shoulder, on your body. It burns all the way through. You don’t shake it off though. You can’t. So you smile and excuse yourself, trying to stop yourself from shuddering. It seems wherever you go, wherever you disappear, he is there. He is always there. If not in your presence, then calling, texting, emailing. He is obsessive, hungry, and you have been served to him on a silver platter whether they realize it or not. You sit alone on the couch, nursing your drink, your fourth or fifth of the night just to get through it. His knee touches you, his arm is around you. No one takes notice, not your brothers or sister. No one can save you. He speaks, but only to get closer, so close you can smell the scotch on his breath. He talks mindlessly of his campaign, of the work he and your brother have put into it. That is why you can’t resist. That is why you can’t push him away, throw your drink in his face, call him names that sit on the tip of your tongue. Because your brother has spent too much time building this relationship up, building this man up. You’ve told him time and time again that you don’t like him, that you side with your sister on this, but he doesn’t care. He is not your President yet, though God help you if he becomes him. You won’t be able to escape him. You won’t be able to run. 

His hand is on your thigh, inching down. As if his touch is fire you jump up, dropping your glass, spilling all over him, all over Shiv's carpet. Fuck, you think, fuck, fuck fuck. You apologize profusely despite yourself, picking up the shards. They glitter under the light. The mumble of the crowd never stops, there isn’t a single pause in conversation. You are the baby, the least significant one. These politicians, their groups, they don’t see you. They don’t notice you. No one is coming to help you. He doesn’t seem to notice your distress, instead leaning down, face to face with you, watching you avoid his eyes. He rubs your shoulder, explaining that it was an accident, no big deal. With his finger he tips your head up, smile for me, sweetie. You recoil, apologizing, taking what pieces you have, headed towards the kitchen. You’re unsteady on your feet, too tipsy. You drank too much. You curse yourself, trying not to let the tears that welled up in your eyes fall. You weren’t even supposed to be here. You were supposed to be home, safe, far away from him where he could not possibly reach you. But they wanted you here, they needed you here, the biggest night leading up to the election. You could never disappoint them. Never. So you showed up and you drank and now you’re in this mess. You can feel him behind you, like a shadow, close but not close enough. You catch one look behind you, biting back a scream. He shakes hands, introduces himself, cracks jokes, all while moving through the crowd. You are his target, you always have been. 

From the moment he laid eyes on you, you knew it was over. Too late. You were drowning and they were doing nothing to save you. He spoke to you like you were old friends, touchy from your moment of introduction. Y/n Roy, a pleasure to meet you. A kiss on the cheek. His arm snaking around your waist for the family photo. Pleading with your eyes, but no one to see, no one to understand. Your father was more than happy to serve you to him, proud you’d made a connection so quickly. Oblivious to your disgust, to your discomfort, as always. Still, he hadn’t been that proud of you in a long time, perhaps ever. You thought you could keep up the niceties until he lost, then you would rid yourself of him for good. And then your father died. And then Roman made his deal with him. And now? Now you’re leaning over the sink, trying not to throw up, your hands shaking at the thought of him being near you like that again. He got caught in conversation with a lesser political opponent, his eyes never leaving you. Someone had given him your contact information. First an email here and there. A thank you for being so kind to him. A proposition for coffee, then drink. Texts next. Jokes that fell flat. Apologies for your father. More dates, more events, all of them, he’s hoping, you’ll be there. Calls, too. Pictures. So many pictures. Silly ones, then not so funny. If he wasn’t constantly watching, talking, touching, then he was trying to. You never responded, but that didn’t stop him. It would never stop him. 

What were you going to do? 

You clutch the edge of the sink, taking a few deep breaths. As quickly as you can without making yourself even more nauseous, you cut through the pack, headed towards the bathroom. Without meaning to, your barge through your siblings semi-circle conversation. The tears are falling. All of them look up at you, startled, but you slam the door shut before they can ask anything. Shiv knocks softly, saying your name, trying to get you out. Y/n? Y/n what happened? Can you come out and talk to us? Knees to chest you slide down to the floor, drunk, tired, your skin still crawling. Trying to catch your breath. Y/n, come on, come out. Whatever happened, we can fix it. Kendall sounded exhausted. Rightfully so. You stifle a sob, the words coming out before you can stop them. I didn’t mean- I didn’t- I know this is important to you guys. Mencken. He’s important to them, he’s important to your brother, he was to your father. You couldn’t just suck it up for a little while, you had to cry like a child. Who? What are you talking about? It’s Roman now, his voice close to you. He’s not standing like the others, he’s on your level now. You don’t know how to explain it, you can’t. You fear it’ll sound ridiculous. That you’re making a bigger deal about this than necessary. You’re not sure what else to do. You open every tab, every phone call and text thread and email. Then you open the door just a crack, sliding the phone through, shutting it again. There's a moment of silence that feels like eternity. How long has been this going on? Roman sounds angry. At you? A while. It’s all you can manage, curling into a ball, bracing for the worst. For the yelling, the disappointment, for one of them to bang on the door and demand that you come out right now. You wait, and you wait, but it never comes. It never happens. Instead your brother and sister call after Roman, trying to stop him, but he’s seeing red. 

There’s no stopping him. 

It’s quiet for a long time, but you don’t move a muscle. Your nausea has gotten a little better, your head a little clearer. You call for your siblings, but none answer. What were they doing? What were they saying? You can hear muffled yelling through the door, but the words melt together. Tones rise in pitch. The apartment has quieted. Someone laughs, you think it’s Mencken. More quiet. A door slams. You wince. This is all your fault. Whatever they were doing, whatever was going on, it was your fault. It was all your fault. Then a voice, softer now. He’s gone, kid. You can come out. Roman. He didn’t sound angry, but when did that ever stop anyone? Certainly not your father. When you don’t, you hear him groan, getting to the floor. Through the door, you can hear the weight in his voice. I’m not mad at you, I, I could never be mad at you. A pause. You honestly think I would have chosen him over you? You nod before choking up a yes. It’s my fault, you start, but he doesn’t let you finish. It’s not, it never was. He’s a fucking creep y/n, a monster. I’m, I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner. He's gone now. He won’t come near you ever again. He’s never been so sure of anything in his life. He would never let fucking Mencken do that to you again. He wouldn’t let anyone do that. He shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place, he’d carry this for the rest of his life. He let you down, your big brother. He let you down for the last time.

"girls, boys, neithers, boths, and in-betweens" is actually rificulously inclusive and will forever be better than any variation of "guys, gals and non-binary pals"

Haiiiii !! I love the way you write and I wondered if I could request a gnreader x steve if that's okay and if u still have time! Like maybe a scene where Steve visits a music store to get somebody of the group (maybe Robin, Dustin or someone else) a birthday present but he's totally stumped nd doesn't know what to get and by total coincidence the Reader is there and helps! (i hope this isn't too over the top or that i wrote too much??)

You can ignore this bit if it limits your creativity in any way but maybe the Reader's a total airhead who seems to be addicted to the word dude and has kind of an cali valley boy vibe (but also a total metalhead ofc)

Thank you and i wish u a very comfortable day/night and send u lots of virtual hugs!

(ﾉﾞ⌯'⌄'⌯)ﾉﾞ*。⋆💓

gn!reader | thank you for the req!! virtual hugs right back at ya

Not once in his life has Steve been in a record shop.

Similarly, not once has he shopped for Robin and it was far beyond him what she generally liked.

Clothes — what if the stuff he bought didn’t fit her style? Food — did she have some allergies that he didn’t know about?

After much contemplation and a tip from Max, who had so graciously played messenger pigeon for him, he’d decided that it was only appropriate to buy her… something to do with music. He’d seen the bulky record player sitting on the end table by her door, the shelf under bare of actual records and, at this point, collecting dust.

The bell jingles as he steps into Dave’s Records on the far side of town, nose flooded with the scent of something musty and lemony window spray.

The air is cold, lights dim and displays colored orange by the sunset through the large glass windows. He’d figured it was wise to go at the tail end of the shop’s hours — more time for him to spend stalling because, in reality, he had no clue what Robin liked. Other than stuff on the radio, she’d never mentioned her music to him.

A sharp voice cuts suddenly through the Queen plays softly over the speakers hidden in the ceiling, shouting something unintelligible from the back of the store.

Steve peeks around the corner, seeing you in a heated argument with the shop’s owner.

“Twenty dollars for this is absurd, dude,” you borderline yell, hand slamming in a fist to the glass countertop. “Don’t be crazy, come on!”

The shopkeeper merely shakes his head. “Twenty. Take it or leave it.”

To his better judgement, Steve turns to the shelves to continue browsing in favor of interjecting. The selection is overwhelming — bands he’d never heard of, popular stuff that was an equivalent of working two weeks on minimum wage.

There’s a loud groan and a clattering sound, then angry footsteps approaching him.

“Twenty!” you exclaim softly from beside Steve, hands deftly flipping through the different cardboard jackets of red, purple, black, blue. “Twenty is absurd, don’t you think?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring intently at his sneakers looking pristine white next to your beat-up Converse, your laces tuned gray and rubber toes smeared with dirt and grime. Sharpie doodles litter the edges — sloppily-done stars, stick figures, other stuff he couldn’t make out long faded by the sun.

The white tips of your shoes turn to face his.

“Huh?”

“Like, I mean I don’t really know what’s a reasonable price,” Steve says quickly, pretending to be pointedly interested in whatever Overkill was. “I never shop here.”

“Oh.” You turn back to the display, lips set into a tight line.

The music fades out, leaving the air still and silent and stifling save for the whirring of a fan somewhere in the back.

There’s the scuffing of the carpet as you toe at a fraying line of loose thread, hands falling to your sides. “Didn’t take you for someone who likes metal,” you comment offhandedly in a way he suspects is only to fill the silence.

“What?” Steve glances up, then back to the display in front of him to realize he was, in fact, looking through the metal stuff that Robin definitely had no interest in. “Oh. I’m, uh, shopping for a friend.”

“Cool,” you say, hugging your choice of record to your chest. “Okay. Bye, then.”

You turn on your heel, halfway disappeared around the stand towards the counter to browse elsewhere, business finished in the metal section.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, deliberating for a moment, before reaching out to tap your shoulder before you can get too far.

“Could you help me really quick?”

He can see you considering it, cogs clicking in your brain before you offer a slight grimace.

“Sure, if it’s fast,” you say with palpable hesitance, “I have a… thing.”

“So, my friend Robin-”

“Robin Buckley?”

Steve gapes. “Huh? How’d you know?”

You start off towards the front of the store, weaving in between displays and stacks upon stacks of records.

“Who else in this town is named Robin?” you ask, stopping in front of a bunch of stuff Steve’d never taken the time to listen to. The Smiths, Depeche Mode, INXS. “And I know her from school. You shopping for her birthday?”

Steve reaches up, the fabric of his windbreaker crinkling as he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, actually. I know she has a record player and she likes music, so-”

There’s the switch lightbulb over your head, eyes lighting up as you adjust your cap. “Oh, sure. We talk about music all the time,” you say, turning back to the stand.

Your fingers brush against the tops of numerous records before settling on what Steve can’t make out beyond a pinky-reddish blob with black around the edges.

“Man, she loves The Cure,” you state matter-of-factly, holding out your choice to him. “She never stops talking about ‘em. And I know she doesn’t have this one ‘cause she’s been talking about saving up for it. So I’m sure she’ll like it.”

Steve takes it with hesitance, staring at the cover. Pornography. Nice.

“Thanks,” he says, still squinting and trying to make out the faces on in middle. He looks back up. “Really. Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” you say back, shooting him a quick, tight-lipped smile. “I’d better go. Nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, bye…” He watches your retreating finger as you disappear into the sunny parking lot, eventually making his way up to the counter on his own.

He slides the record across the counter, mildly disturbed by the guy with a cigarette between his lips.

“Twenty dollars,” he says.

CIGARETTES & DIOR 𝙸𝙸𝙸

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beta read by my beloved @raelwrites

—enemies (?) steve harrington X reader, follows along with 'the flea and the acrobat' and 'the monster'

[if anyone wants to be tagged let me know]

 when 1983 entered november, there weren’t very many things you expected to occur. some fights perhaps, a date here or there to humour nancy, academic pressure. what you weren’t planning for, and surely not what the rest of the residents of hawkins were planning for, was a funeral.

 sure, you could finally wear that all-black suit at the back of your closet, but it also meant having to acknowledge that something was seriously wrong in hawkins.

 and that’s not mentioning all the fucked-up shit you and your friends had seen.

 “this is where we know for sure it’s been, right?” jonathan said, holding the paper at an angle so that both you and nancy could also see.

 “so, that’s…” nancy points at one of the red crosses.

 “steve’s house.” jonathan nods. “and that’s the woods where they found will’s bike, and that’s my house.” he lists what the other two crosses represent and you can’t help but notice just how close everything was.

 “it’s all so close.” you voice, and jonathan agrees.

 “I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. whatever this thing is, it’s… it’s not traveling far.”

 “well, there’s gotta be like, somewhere it rests, right? if no one else has seen the thing then I mean…” you trail off, though nancy seems to understand what you’re suggesting.

 “you want to go out there.” her tone makes you hopeful that she won’t think your idea stupid.

 “we might not find anything,” jonathan says, though nancy is quick to defend the idea.

 “we found something.” she tilts her head at you, and you grimace when the creature flashes through your mind. “and if we do see it… then what?” you hadn’t thought this far ahead.

 but it seems jonathan had, because after a brief sigh he states, “we kill it.”

 when it became clear that you were all serious, jonathan folded up his makeshift map and stood. quickly moving to follow him when he starts for the parked car nearby you wonder aloud what he’s planning.

 “jonny-boy, wanna fill us in on your plan? ‘kill’ is a very broad idea, you know.” you try to keep your voice down, aware of the still-mourning towns-folk present.

 when jonathan reaches the car, he quickly situates himself in the passenger seat and begins to fiddle with the lock on the glove box.

 “what are you doing?” nancy questions, and you jump slightly having not heard her approach.

 “just give me a second.”

 “we’re looking mighty suspicious, that second better end soon jonny,” you remark, placing a hand on the bonnet to lean on.

 “are you serious?” nancy suddenly asks and you look through the windshield only to see jonathan move a gun from the compartment to his jacket pocket.

 “oh, what the- holy shit. how do you even have that?” you gawk, quickly looking around to make sure no one was close enough to neither see nor hear what was currently happening.

 “what? you want to find that thing and take another photo? yell at it?” jonathan steps out of the car and with the slam of the door, nancy begins to voice her disagreement.

 “this is a terrible idea.”

 “shh, no- nance, this is a fantastic idea. the fuck were we gonna do against some creature from the black lagoon looking weirdo?” while the appearance of a gun in the equation throws you off, you can’t help but realise that it’s necessary for what you all had planned.

 jonathan agrees with you, looking at nancy while adjusting the new additions to his pockets, “it’s the best we’ve got. what? you can tell someone, but they’re not gonna believe you. you know that.” jonathan points at you and says your name, “- knows that.”

 “your mom would.” nancy strikes back, as if the poor woman didn’t have enough going on right now.

 “she’s been through enough.” jonathan voices your sentiment.

 “she deserves to know.” nancy continues to argue.

 you step closer and place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing enough to grab her attention. “we’ll tell her, nance. but right now?” you gesture lightly at the fact that you were in a cemetery.

 “we’ll tell her when this thing is dead.” jonathan finishes, and nancy has no reply.

 “woah! hey- watch where you swing that thing, damn!” you jump out of the way, narrowly avoiding a collision with the side of nancy’s bat.

 “sorry-” she grunts your name, stepping into another swing, “just practising.”

 you skim your fingers along the other wooden accoutrements by the wall only to jump again when an unfortunately familiar voice calls out, “woah, woah, woah! hey, woah, woah…” steve fucking harrington.

 “what are you doing here?” nancy asks, out of breath.

 “what are you doing?” steve claps back. fair, though you think it’s quite obvious either way.

 “nothing.” apart from swinging a baseball bat around like a lunatic, you mean.

 “I hope that’s not meant for me.” oh. you grin.

 “shucks, you figured it out.” you hop closer to the pair, golf club in hand. “it was gonna be a surprise! y’know, the whole maim and murder thing.”

 “what?” nancy slaps your arm and you giggle, posing with the club as if to whack something. “no. oh, no, I was just… thinking about joining softball.” at her attempts to explain you can’t help but laugh briefly, relaxing from your previous position to use the club, now, as a cane.

 steve kicks the golf club and you almost fall. fair play.

 “well, uh… listen I’m really sorry. I mean, even before you threatened me with the baseball bat.” he moves around you two to lean against the car and you laugh at that. it was a little funny, okay? “I panicked and… I mean, I was a total dick.”

 you drop the shovel you were attempting to remove from the wall. “ah! oh fuck, wait- did you just admit that?” when you turn, you’re met with twin faces of annoyance. not that surprising though you quickly pick up the shovel and mutter an apology to nance.

 “did you get in trouble with your parents?” nancy focuses back on steve.

 “totally, but… you know, who cares? screw ‘em. any news about barbara?” when steve asked about barb, you stop fiddling with the tools. nancy must’ve shaken her head because you didn’t hear a response before steve asked, “parents heard from her? or?”

 this time, you turn and see nancy shake her head again. you can feel your hands begin to shake so you stuff them in the pockets of your jacket, which you still had to talk to nancy about.

 “hey, listen. why don’t we, uh, why don’t we catch a movie tonight, you know? just kinda pretend everything’s normal for a few hours. all the right moves is still playing. you know, with your lover boy from risky business?” you snort at that but let them talk, knowing the invite was for nancy only.

 you haven’t been invited to watch a movie since march.

 “yeah, I know.”

 “you know, carol thinks I actually kinda look like him. what do you think?” steve turns his face side to side before bursting into song. “just take those old records off the shelf, I’ll sit and listen to them by myself.” your urge to get a camera increases ten-fold at witnessing steve act a fool for nancy. god, what perfect blackmail material this would make.

 “I just, I… I don’t think I can. I’ve been really busy with this whole funeral thing and… with my brother, it’s been really hard on him.” you can practically hear the soft emotional music that should be playing right now.

 “yeah, sure. sure, yeah, yeah.” and you can’t believe you might actually feel a little sorry for steve.

 “so…”

 to alleviate some of the tension between steve and nancy, you waltz over and drape an arm across steve’s shoulders, reaching up to mess with his hair briefly. “I’ll go with you, hotshot.” though you might cut your arm off later if a scalding shower doesn’t disinfect the harrington off of you, it distracted the pair enough from their conversation for the mood to rise.

 plus, it’s not like steve would actually agree to go with you.

 “yeah?” steve asked, turning his head slightly to look at you. “thought you hated me?”

 “that I do, dweeb, but you guys are so pathetic right now I might start to cry.” you frown exaggeratedly, bringing your free hand up into a fist by your face to indicate crying.

 when he turns back with a raised brow at nancy, you drop both arms and step away.

 when nancy turns to you then to steve and then back to you with a grin, you feel dread begin to build in your stomach.

 “well, I think that’s a great idea. you guys can, you know, bond,” nancy says, and you and steve share a look because while you both can’t stand the other, you both also can’t resist nancy’s puppy dog eyes.

 “so, what time?” steve asks.

 ok, minimise the damage, let him down gently, tell him you were joking.

 “if you got here with your car, we’re going now.”

 abort. abort. abort.

 “cool.”

 “cool.”

 amongst the list of idiotic things you’ve done, stepping into the same car as steve harrington- stepping into steve harrington’s car, has got to be quite high up on there.

 “I will be honest, though, you have a hell of a nice car.” you swipe your hands across the dash. “permission to pilfer?” your hand hovers over the latch to the glove compartment.

 he laughs, “yeah, sure. it’s only mixtapes in there anyway.” at that you quickly fling it open, pulling the contents into your lap.

 “so, what kinds of- oh my god! hah! wait, holy shit- what are you, a disco freak?” you flick through the tapes, taking in the confusingly large amounts of abba. “oh, voulez-vous, neat.” you whisper and pop it in.

 steve glances at you but says nothing of it.

 it took one side of the tape and stop-start humming to reach the theatre.

 “there’s no queue but if I don’t get a break from you, I might actually punch you, so you grab the tickets to whatever-the-fuck, and I’ll get the popcorn.”

 you shoved your shaking hands into your pockets, waiting for the buckets to get filled up. “so-” steve calls your name and you jump, not expecting the teen to be behind you. “I got two for all the right moves.” he grabs one of the buckets the employee set on the counter and exchanges it for one of the tickets. “ready?”

 you grab the other, sigh, and turn to the entrance to the screens. “as I’ll ever be.”

 you groan in relief as you walk out of the double doors to the cinema, half empty popcorn bucket in hand. “that was like, the most boring movie I’ve ever seen. you enjoy that crap? like, nothing happened- it’s just some jock movie.” you thrust a thumb behind you.

 steve laughs alongside you, empty handed having poured the left-over popcorn into your bucket. “I’ll be honest- I’ve only watched it so many times because nancy’s wanted to.” he grabbed a handful of popcorn to munch on.

 “aww, aren’t you just the sweetest boyfriend!” you giggle and flick a piece of corn at him. he fails to swat it, thus entangling in his hair.

 “oi- not the hair!” he shakes his head, but the popcorn piece stays. “is it gone?” you smile and nod.

“I’ll be honest, you do look a bit like tom cruise- hm. maybe if you flattened your hair a little…” when you reach up to touch steve quickly swerved out of the way. “spoilsport.”

 “oh, yeah?” steve confiscates the popcorn bucket and jumps out of the way of your hand, laughing when you trip a little. when you continue to move for the bucket, steve hops away further until the pair of you are running down the sidewalk.

 “steve! st- oi, dweeb!” you pant, hunched over against the nearest wall. “not everyone’s a jock, you know!”

 when steve saunters back to you, popping pieces of corn in his mouth periodically, you straighten up. grab the bucket. run away.

 you run into a pedestrian and drop the bucket. steve lets out an anguished wail. so do you, actually.

 “the popcorn! it was so meticulously curated!” steve drops down next to you, and you gawp at the fact that king steve so readily lowered himself to your level.

 “you will be remembered… dearly.” you mock-wipe away a stray tear before standing up and dusting your legs. thankfully, the stranger had walked off without complaint. “c’mon, I probably have popcorn at home- and better movies.”

 “taking me home already? don’t you move fast.” steve teases, flicking a stay piece of corn at you.

 “don’t get any ideas, harrington. now, where’s your car, again?”

 “you’re only allowed in the car if you don’t laugh at my music the whole way.” steve unlocks the car when you get to it, and you snort as you sit in the passenger seat.

 “stevie- half of your mixtapes are abba, what else am I supposed to do?” you flick through the tapes in his glove box, pulling out one at random and snorting when it turns out to be abba. you glance at steve when he has no rebuttal and double-back at the red face he sports. “uh- steve? you good?”

 the teen nods, hums and starts the car.

 “what, did you find the corn still in your hair?” you tease, picking the piece out and flicking it out of the window.

 “yeah, yeah totally that- hey, listen… I’ll drop you home but I gotta go- gotta pick up tommy and carol soon. uh- popcorn another time.” you slip the abba tape in, determined to ignore what caused steve’s mood to shift so much.

 “I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”

 on saturday you wake to frenzied pounding on your front door. when it escalated from voiceless disturbance to frantic shouts of your name between the knocks, you stumbled out of bed, tossed on a discarded sweater, and journeyed to the front door.

 “did you know?!” is what greets you the second you crack the door open. steve’s panicked voice is followed by the chill november wind so with a grunt you pull him inside.

 “did I know what, harrington?” comes your grumble, resting against the door and wiping the sleep from your eyes.

 “nancy and jonathan.” he elaborates, poorly.

 “what about them?” you yawn.

 “they’re fucking sleeping together.” your mouth snaps shut.

 “ex- cuse me?” well now that can’t be what you heard, right? “did you just- hold on. what the fuck did you just say?”

 “nancy- that- fucking bitch, she’s sleeping with byers,” steve says through gritted teeth, and you can’t help but scoff.

 “and this comes from, where exactly? also- don’t call nance a bitch, what’s wrong with you?”

 “yeah, well I fucking saw that freak cosying up with nancy in her bedroom.” steve’s words pause your feet in their walk to the kitchen.

 “well now that can’t be right.” you resume the short trip to the kitchen and hear steve follow behind you, steps heavy and breaths deep. “eggs or pancakes?”

 “what?”

 “it’s a simple question, harrington. eggs or pancakes?” you start taking bowls out of shelves and utensils from drawers.

 “pancakes?”

 “good choice.” you turn around and point the whisk at him. “if I’m gonna get through this stupid conversation you’re insisting I partake in, I’m making some food.”

 you hear when steve sits down by the slight scrape of the table chair and heavy sigh. you know he’s going to begin talking when the teen clears his throat. “did you know?”

 “no- well, it depends. did I know they were hanging out? yeah, I was there with them half the time. did I know by best friend is now apparently a slut? that’d be a no.” you try to sound as nonchalant as you can. if the both of you start panicking, well, the pancakes definitely won’t be made. “what did you even see?”

 steve groans in his seat at the table, shuffles around a bit, and hits his head against the wall behind him. “byers was practically all over her.” you can hear the disgust in his voice. “it was just- they were… agh- right, hold on.”

 “you sure they weren’t just, I don’t know- talking? friends do that too, you know.”

 when you hear him begin to move you turn, only to practically bash your body against his. “woah- hey now. hot pan behind me, careful.” you move away, laughing a little to ease the sudden discomfort and begin to ladle batter into the pan.

 “ok so-” harrington just moves closer when you step away. “if you picture me as jonathan, you as nance…” steve presses the side of his body against yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “would you talk to your friends like this?”

 you freeze.

 “uh-” this can’t be happening. “not usually, no.” you whisper back.

 he moves away. you almost sway to get closer again but catch yourself.

 what the fuck?

 “that’s what I though.” steve scoffs. “bet that’s why she blew me off yesterday. too busy blowing byers to hang out with her boyfriend.” you snort.

 “yeah, alright. well, if you want-” you push a plate of pancakes towards steve. “we can go confront her about it later- eat.” you drop a fork on the plate. “and if she says nothin’, we can go bully jonny for an answer or something.”

 “jonny?” you hear steve whisper.

 “everyone’s gotta have a nickname, dweeb. syrups in the cupboard next to you.”

 “hey! what the fucks happening?!” you shout, running down the alley from which you could hear the, sadly, familiar shouts of nancy and tommy. “hey, hey nance what- what the hell? what- how did this happen?” you pant, wincing whenever you hear a fist connecting with a body.

 “steve said- jonathan, stop! stop! you’re gonna hurt him!” nancy attempts to explain but quickly overlooks it in favour of attempting to move closer, and you quickly grab her by the shoulders to hold her back from the swinging fists, holding tighter when you hear police sirens.

 “guys! jonny, stop! you moron!” you let go of nancy when you’re certain she won’t try to move closer in favour of helping tommy pull jonathan away from steve, which becomes a much harder task than initially suspected when the teen just shrugs you off and tommy redirects to grabbing steve and running away.

 “I got this one!” one of the officers shouts, cuffing a bent over jonathan.

 “jesus, when steve said he had something planned with his friends, I didn’t think it mean this- what the fuck…” you place a hand over your forehead and lean on nancy who looks close to tears. “hey, hey nance. nancy, you’re ok, right?” you question, suddenly worried when she continues to stay silent.

 “yeah, yeah- what… what are you doing here?”

 “didn’t have popcorn at home.” which was true, but it didn’t answer her question. “what are you doing here?” you redirect.

 “tommy said something, then steve said some stuff, christ. I don’t even know how this happened… one minute they were just arguing and the next, well.” you nod.

 “wanna know the worst part about this all?” you ask, guiding nancy out of the alley and to the cop car jonathan was just placed in. “I didn’t even get my popcorn.” this pulls a laugh from nancy, and you beam, glad to have at least cheered her up, however brief it was.

 the ride to the police station is silent. you ache to strike up a conversation but whenever you glance at nancy’s crestfallen expression the words die in your throat.

 when you reach the station, you and nancy are redirected to the nurse. since neither of you actually did anything apart from be at the scene of the incident, neither of you had to speak with the police as of right now.

 as the lady pulls a tray of ice cubes out of the freezer and a towel out of the desk drawer, nancy asks, “do you think we’ll be out of here soon?” probably. or at least, you hope so.

 “you, yes. him, no.” she responds, “he assaulted a police officer.” which is a fair point, and true. however, that police officer did get in the way of a fighting teen, of course he was bound to be hit.

 “well, how long are you gonna keep him?” you question, glancing around at the decorations on the walls.

 “you and her boyfriend have big plans, do you?” the lady asks, straight-faced. you choke on your spit.

 “he’s not my boyfriend.” comes nancy’s reply and you shake your head alongside her.

 “I think you better tell him that.” because that’s gonna go down well with steve.

 at nancy’s confusion, the lady continues. “only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart.” which was a sweet, albeit unneeded, sentiment. “and that damn stupid.” at least that’s true.

 “you’re a- you’re a wise lady, ma’am,” you say before following nancy out of the room.

 jonathan looks about as pathetic as you had left him at the desk and as you round the table you pat his back, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. the teen just came out of a fight, no point irritating any injuries he might have.

 “found some ice.” nancy sits beside him, lifting the make-shift ice pack she was given to rest against jonathan’s face.

 the tense silence is broken by jonathan, “everything ok?” you don’t bother answering. with how they’re staring at each other, it’s almost as if you don’t exist.

 hm.

 “yeah. everything’s fine.” is the lie nancy settles with because everything was most certainly not fine.

  how is it that steve might actually be right for once?