Is There Anything I Can Do To Help Palestinians Besides Call My Representatives And Beg Them To Stop

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.

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?

by the way your voice always matters in the fight against injustice. every single time you speak out against an injustice it matters. it sheds light on it. it empowers others to speak up. it matters

come watch eurovision we got:

funky uncle squad ready to throw hands with the nearest dictator

human neon conga line

thor in a toyota

pagan wedding rituals

edgar allan poe

token boyband

tiny woman in a box

possessed barbie dolls

xena, warrior singer

matrix cosplayers

glam rock fire lord ozai

cyberpunk ninjas and modern art sculptures

and lastly, europe when the votes come in

shakespeare is metal. (2/?)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson desperately needs to graduate this year, and you're the only tutor that hasn't turned him down. (part 2 to "i’m not above begging")

warnings: cursing, mentions of murder/suicide (in regards to shakespeare), jason carver being a shithead (is that even a warning??)

a/n: you guyssss 🥺 I can’t believe the first part of this has 100 notes! thank you all so much for being so kind. i’m truly grateful for every single one of you that took the time to read this and provide such positive responses. it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. I got carried away again at 2,764 words (I have a too much gene, oops). as always, all feedback is welcomed/appreciated! please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next parts!

tags: @uraveragequeer

It had been three weeks since I had started tutoring Eddie. I really wasn’t sure what to expect when I had agreed to the arrangement in the first place. I had known of Eddie, but I didn’t know Eddie. Not really. The morning of our first tutoring session, I ransacked my entire closet trying to figure out what to wear. I had never given so much thought into an outfit, despite the obligatory first day of school outfit of course. I stared at my frazzled face in the mirror, cheeks glowing red from hurling clothes on and off my body, my once neatly curled hair now sticking out in odd places. Why do I suddenly care so much what Eddie Munson thinks of my clothes? He wears that same Hellfire shirt every other day. 

Eddie had agreed to meet me that Monday morning in the library at 7:30 am sharp. I had expected him to be late, partly because Eddie Munson was not known for his punctuality, but also because I literally had to give him directions to the library. It amused me that the place I had spent a majority of my time in high school, he had never stepped foot in. I arrived at 7:15 and took a seat at one of the tables near the back. The library was empty, not even the librarian had arrived yet. My knee bounced in anticipation as I continuously checked the clock behind the desk what felt like every 30 seconds. 

7:17. 7:19. 7:21. 7:23. 

Just as the minute hand landed at 7:30, Eddie Munson was bursting through the library doors with a large, goofy grin on his face. My face must have betrayed my inner thoughts, because he looked at me with a knowing smirk and pointed in my direction as he took a seat in front of me.

“You thought I wasn’t gonna show, didn’t ya?”

“No! I just..expected you to get lost..that’s all. Since you’ve never been in here. Um, let’s get started, yeah?”

“Sure. But just so you know, I’d never stand you up angel.”

Eddie shot me a wink and a lopsided grin, pulling out a pencil and a notebook that had definitely seen better days. And me? I was malfunctioning. Eddie Munson winked at me. And called me angel. And I liked it. Why did I like it so much?

That was essentially how all of our tutoring sessions had gone so far. Eddie would be his usual charming self, say or do something flirtatious, and I would be left a stuttering mess trying to steer his attention back to the task at hand, which was a victory in itself. That boy had the attention span of a baby goldfish when it came to topics he bore no interest in. Dungeons and Dragons? Oh he could go on for days. Shakespeare? I couldn’t even get him to hold a book in his hand for longer than 5 seconds.

“I don’t understand why I have to do this. Why do I have to agree that this old dude is ‘one of the greatest writers of our time’ when I think he sucks? It’s forced conformity. I mean who even decided Shakespeare was so ‘great’?  Why should we have to be forced to study him until the end of time because of one stuck up asshole’s opinion who’s clearly never read anything worthwhile? Now Tolkien, there’s a fucking writer. Why can’t I do this stupid project on Lord of the Rings?”

“Because you want to pass Mrs. O’Donnell’s class and graduate?”

Eddie groaned loudly, rubbing his large palms over his face and tilting his chair back as he put his feet up on the table which earned him a dirty look from the librarian. His arms crossed over his chest and he stared down at the several books in front of him with detest, as if each one of them had personally offended him. His final project was to pick a work of Shakespeare, read it, and write a three page essay on its meaning. The project itself wasn’t difficult, but Eddie was.

“Look why don’t you think of it as a..um..what do you call it in your game? A challenge?”

“Quest, sweetheart. It’s called a quest.”

Sweetheart. 

“R-Right, quest. Think of this as a quest. Shakespeare, is your key to getting out of Mrs. O’Donnell’s class, and Hawkins High itself. Except instead of dice, you have to write a paper.”

“But dice are so much cooler! The new set I got last week are-”

“Eddie.”

“Fine.”

Eddie grumbled and picked up a copy of Romeo and Juliet, eyeing the cover in disgust. His large brown eyes scanned over the various copies laying on the table, all of which he held with contempt. Eddie’s eyes were quickly becoming one of my favorite things about him. They were so warm and expressive, like large pools of melted chocolate. It was hard not to get lost in them. They felt like a safe space. His fingers slowly moved over the covers of the worn paperbacks, his large rings gleaming under the harsh lights in the library. Eddie’s hands were also becoming another one of my favorite things about him. They were so large, and everytime I looked at them, I remembered how soft and warm his skin felt against my own. Eddie was an expressive talker, always talking with his hands and animated gestures. I often found myself getting caught up in his movements, eyes so focused on following his fingers I couldn’t even hear what he was saying. During the past 3 weeks, my mind constantly wandered to his hands. He had mentioned being in a band once, which instantly sent my mind into a frenzy wondering what his hands looked like when he played.

Eddie had been a constant figure in my mind ever since our interaction in the tutoring center. The more time we spent together, the worse it seemed to get. I found myself worrying about my appearance more, tripping over my words in front of him, constantly looking for excuses to talk to him outside of our sessions. I had no idea what was happening to me or why I was all of a sudden so enthralled with Eddie Munson.

“Alright, level with me angel. Which one of these books will make me want to slam my head in my van door the least?”

The completely unamused expression on Eddie’s face caused me to laugh out loud. I quickly cupped one of my hands over my mouth and flashed the librarian an apologetic look. I shook my head as I regained my composure, looking over at Eddie who had a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I made the mistake of letting Eddie know that I thought he was funny. Since the first time he made me giggle, he made it his personal mission to get at least one laugh out of me every session, no matter what it took. There was no length he wouldn’t go to.

“You are going to get us kicked out! I can’t be banned from the library Eddie, I practically live here! Look, Shakespeare is not that bad. If you would pay attention, you would know he’s actually pretty..metal.”

Eddie stared at me incredulously with wide eyes, his chair landing back on the floor with a loud thunk as he leaned over the table. His dark brows knit together in the middle of his forehead as he mimicked my words.

“I’m sorry..did you just say Shakespeare is..metal?”

“For his time, yeah. A lot of his plays involve murder, or suicide, or a murder-suicide. Some of them are pretty violent. He was also actually kind of a rebel. He wrote tons of plays that cryptically called out the royals of his time, knowing that they would be performed in front of them. He essentially mocked them to their faces, and they had no idea.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered between the titles on the table and me, disbelief written clearly all over his features. He leaned forward to rest his cheek in the palm of his hand. After several minutes of contemplation, he nodded slowly with a click of his tongue, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Huh, that is pretty fucking metal.”

I pulled out a copy of Hamlet from the stack and put it in front of Eddie, gently tapping on the cover.

“You’ll like this one. There’s murder, suicide, witchcraft and other supernatural stuff. Arguably one of Shakespeare’s best soliloquies. It’s one of my favorites. Plus, I think you’ll like Hamlet. He’s a drama queen, like you.”

Eddie let out a sharp gasp, covering his chest in an exaggerated fashion with one of his large hands. He painted an expression of mock offense and quickly stood from the chair, gaining everyone’s attention in the library.

“Excuse me? You..you think I’m a drama queen? Wow. I just..you know..you think you know someone and then..they just break your heart. Unbelievable. I really thought we had something Y/N, something special.”

I tried my hardest to contain my giggles, quickly reaching out to grasp onto Eddie’s wrist as he started to walk away from our table. My cheeks flamed when I realized all the other students in the library were staring at us. Some of them looked amused, some of them looked disgusted. I hated the way people stared at Eddie. I hated how much they judged him. 

“Eddie! Shh! Seriously, please sit down. If we get kicked out of the library, I can’t tutor you anymore. You know I can’t bring you to the tutoring center anymore.”

Eddie had been unofficially banned from the tutoring center after our second session for being a “distraction”. After ten minutes of drum solos with pencils, Eddie being well, just Eddie, and a heated exchange with one of the jocks, we moved permanently to the library. Although, it seemed like it was only a matter of time before we were unofficially banished from here as well.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, his long fingers nearly covering the entire front cover of the copy of Hamlet still in his hand. He cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips, eventually sitting on top of the table right next to my chair. The sudden closeness caused me to tense as the scent of his cologne filled my senses, leaving me somewhat dizzy.

“Fine. But only because I want to sit. Not because you said so. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“Crystal. But for the record, you know you’re a drama queen. You practically put on your own Shakespearian show everyday at lunch.”

“Well if you wanted a front row seat sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

My next words of banter immediately caught in my throat, and I prayed to whoever was listening Eddie couldn’t see the change in color of my cheeks. Eddie Munson was a natural flirt. That was just his personality. I had to remind myself that several times over the past few weeks. He’s not flirting with you, dummy. He’s just being nice. He talks like this to everyone. Luckily the bell rang and saved me from becoming a stumbling mess in front of Eddie once again.

“I mean it, you should come sit with us sometime. If you’re feeling brave. See ya later, angel.”

I grumbled under my breath the entire walk to my locker. Damn Eddie Munson. Damn him and his stupid wink and stupid smirk and stupid cute dumb face that sends my brain into a total meltdown.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I barely registered the pair of blue eyes that were staring at me expectantly as I shut my locker door.

“Hey..you.”

Jason Carver. I had tutored him several times in the past two and a half years, and he still didn’t know my fucking name. I forced a tight-lipped smile on my lips and held my books protectively against my chest. 

“Hi Jason. What can I do for you?”

“I’m actually here about what I can do for you.”

My face must have given away my confusion, since Jason started to laugh and leaned against the locker next to mine. A little too close for my liking.

“You know, about the freak.”

“Excuse me?”

I hated the way that word rolled off his tongue so easily, as if it had said it a million times before. I knew he had. And I knew exactly who he was hurling that word at.

“Come on, you know you don’t have to tutor him right? You can say no.”

“No I can’t, Jason. It’s my job.”

“I know plenty of tutors who have turned that freak down, for good reason.”

“Well unlike them, I take my job seriously. I can’t just turn away a student that needs my help.”

Jason’s lips stretched into a grin that I’m sure was supposed to be charming, but to me it just looked threatening. Jason didn’t like to be challenged. He took a step forward to lean against my locker, placing his arm on the metal above my head. I didn’t like the way he towered over me. It made me feel like a helpless animal trapped by its prey, being taunted. 

“Look, I get it. You’re a sweet girl, and a saint if you ask me. I know you take it seriously. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have passed chemistry and been kicked off the team a long time ago. I owe you a lot. Which is why I’m here. I’m just looking out for you, okay? I know you try to see the good in people and all, but there’s no good in that devil worshiping freak. Like I said, I owe you. So if he starts to bother you, or make you feel unsafe, come to me. I just wanna protect you.”

Protect me? You don’t even know my fucking name. And you don’t know Eddie. It took everything in my power not to laugh in his face, every shred of self-control not to call him an asshole and to mind his fucking business. But I couldn’t do that. I’m the nice girl. Nice girls don’t talk like that. Nice girls don’t cause a scene. Nice girls smile and nod. So, that’s exactly what I did.

“Thank you, Jason. I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Hey, you looked out for me. I just want to repay the favor. You’ll come to me, right? Promise?”

There was an edge to his tone, like he was daring me to disobey. My fingers gripped onto the spine of my math textbook so tightly I knew they had turned white. I did my best to appear natural, forging another submissive smile onto my lips.

“I promise.”

My answer seemed to satisfy him. He gave my shoulder a tight squeeze, threw me his most charming smile, and took off down the hall towards the gym. I felt dirty. I felt like I needed to take the most scalding hot shower I could stand to burn away every piece of evidence of Jason Carver’s hand on my shoulder. But mostly, I felt guilty. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t correct him. I didn’t stand up for Eddie, which is what I should have done. Social status be damned. Not like I really had one, but still. There was a nauseating feeling building in my stomach. He would have done it for you.

Eddie would have stood up for me. He wouldn’t have hesitated. He wouldn’t be a coward like me. At that moment, I wondered if he knew. I wondered if he could see right through me, see me for who I really was. A coward. A girl that always did as she was told so she didn’t make waves. A girl that kept quiet, and never spoke up, even against something she knew was wrong. Another conformist. 

He would be ashamed of you.

That one thought played over and over in my head all night as I laid in bed. That nauseous feeling never went away, it just continued to gnaw at my nerves and only grew in strength as the hours ticked away. I thought about Eddie, and how I was going to handle seeing his sweet smile while my guilt was eating me up inside. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

when roman said he's gonna do the funeral speech i just went "oh no..."

Dependence Pt. 5 (Roy!Sibling x Roy Family)

Alternatively Titled: We Ain't Angry At You Love, You're The Greatest Thing We Lost I am getting this lyric tattooed on my body I'm dead serious

Characters: Kendall, Roman, Shiv, Connor, Logan

Word Count: 1,879

Inspired By: We'll All Be Here Forever by Noah Kahan

Tag List: @locke-writes

A/N: All I have is the snippet to listen to and it makes me sob every time. I'm thinking of moving 1k miles away from my family, from my home, from everything, and every bone in my body wishes they felt the way this song feels. Every nerve in my body wants them to feel this way. I hope they'll miss me that much. Anyways, it reminded me of Baby Roy and the Succession finale. Yes I did cry while writing, what about it lol!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Dependence Pt. 1 / Dependence Pt. 2 / Dependence Pt. 3 / Dependence Pt. 4

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 1

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include: Pt. 2

You’re gonna go far, he says into you, his arms tight around you. You try to stop yourself from crying. Again. Sniffling into him, into his shoulder. Everything about this moment makes you want to turn around. To call the whole thing off. But then, how can you call off an entire lifetime? Your bags linger at your feet, everything you could fit into two suitcases. You didn’t start out like this, the day didn’t start out like this, but as it progressed, as things fell into place, you realized there was no place for you. In their lives, of course. Connor promised you your old room again, if you ever wanted to visit. But this place, this apartment, this city, it wasn’t yours anymore. It wasn’t home. You’re not sure it ever was to begin with. You remember to call me when you land, okay? An,whenever you need someone to talk to, I’m always here. He has this shake in his voice, the kind that tells you he’s doing his very best to keep himself together. Composed. You can’t say anything, the words getting caught in your throat. Instead you just nod, sobbing into his sweater. He holds you tighter, rubbing your back. When he stops, he cups your face, meeting your teary eyes, wiping your cheeks. Pops would be so proud of you. He wouldn’t. He never was. But at some point you have to stop chasing something that never existed, something you can never have. You smile for Connor’s sake. Maybe he really believes it. Maybe he’s just saying it. Either way, you’re glad you went to him. You’re glad you told him. You’re gonna so far, you have no idea. He sighs, as if the words have been sitting on his chest for a long time. As if this is the first time in your life he’s felt real, genuine relief. You want to be held a little longer. You want to be loved the only way a father, a father by choice rather than blood, could ever love their child. Without conditions, without restraints, without a ceiling or a floor. Infinite. Beautiful. You’ll have to let go eventually, part ways, but for now he holds you like he did when you were an infant. Never could he have imagined the life you’d live. It was a fantastic surprise. You were a fantastic surprise. 

You continue to awe him every single day. 

You catch him at the bar, nursing a martini. Your hands begin to shake, but you settle them at your side, sitting beside him. You can do this. He wasn’t expecting you, sliding his drink away from you. You’re okay, you’ll be okay. You can be around it, you have to in order to say goodbye. He notices the luggage before you have the chance to say anything. Going somewhere? You bite your inner cheek. Yes, actually. He turns to you. His stitches have opened, the wound bright and red. Angry. You try to read his expression. There’s a hint of fear. He saw you in that bed, screaming, crying, begging not to be alive anymore. You knew he meant it out of love, but you couldn’t face it anymore. You couldn’t be looked at like that anymore. If you wanted a fresh start, a real one, you had to get away. You had to find somewhere with people who saw you for you, not your mistakes, not your darkest moments. Somewhere inside him, he understood that. Somewhere inside him, he wanted the same thing. Leaving for him wasn’t an option, though. Is that so? What does Mummy think about that? He sips his drink. You don’t want to roll your eyes at him. You don’t want to be annoyed with him. You’re not sure how long it’ll be before you’ll see him again. I, I didn’t tell her. I’m not telling her. He lets your answer settle for a moment. You’re not sure what he’s thinking. You never have been sure. Roman could be so unreadable, so unpredictable. You keep talking, trying to fill the silence, a lump developing in your throat. You’re speaking so fast, almost hysterical. You have to explain yourself. You have to explain yourself or you’ll die. I have to get away. I’m not sure for how long, I just, I can’t be here anymore. I have to stay sober and I can’t do that here. It’s not because of you, because of any of you, I want you to know that. I’m, I’m sorry if that upsets you or makes you ang- But he interrupts you, leaning over, hugging you. Not as tight as Connor. It’s as if he’s afraid to touch you still, afraid to hurt you. Gentle. You feel his muscles tense then relax. Whatever you gotta do, you do. Just don’t scare me like that again. You promise him it will never happen again. 

It won’t. It doesn’t. The hurt from home doesn’t follow you, wherever you go. 

You can’t reach the other two. You try calling, the deja vu twisting your stomach. The last time you tried to reach them, the last time. . . No. Stop it. This isn’t that. You’re better now. Shiv picks up, waiting for you to talk. You don’t care what happened. You don’t care what went down in that boardroom. You don’t care that he’s CEO now, that you lost. She’s your sister. The same sister that comforted you after nightmares, who iced your bruises, who wanted the best for you from day one. Whatever happened couldn’t change that. She gave you so many chances, time after time, and you let her down. You let everyone down. She still cares, she always would. You would, too. The words come up, out, before you can stop them. How much you love her, how much you’re going to miss her, how badly you need this, how much you wish you could be with her right now. You hear her take a sharp inhale in, a shudder in her voice. I’ll come and visit, yeah? Wherever you end up, I’ll be there, okay? You nod. Yeah, yeah of course. You can feel your eyes well up again. She was your big sister, the only maternal figure you’d ever known. It wasn’t your mother who shushed you to sleep at night, holding you close. It wasn’t your mother who gasped at the bruises you gave yourself in a fit of rage. It wasn’t your mother who climbed into that hospital bed with you when you were sick and scared and didn’t want to fall asleep alone. It was Shiv. You're Shivy. Your sister. Do you have everything packed? Always fretting, always worrying. Yes, Mom. You laugh. You know she’ll be a good mother. Maybe she doesn’t think so, maybe Tom doesn’t, but you do. She took care of you your whole life. She’s still trying to. You um, you have your chargers? Extra socks? Do you need me to- I’ll be okay, you interrupt. You’re both quiet for a moment, taking one another in. You can feel her wanting. Wanting to reach through the phone and kiss your cheek, to hold you so close your hearts beat at the same time. Wanting to keep you there forever, not wanting to let go.

She always knew this day would come, though. You’d always had big plans. You could never be confined like the rest of them. 

You couldn’t reach Kendall. It went straight to voicemail. So you sat in the lobby of Waystar, trying to figure out exactly how to put it. Every thought in your mind, every thank you and I’m sorry and forgive me and I forgive you. Everything that’s ever sat between you two into a compact, meaningful message. You didn’t want to worry him, that was the last time you wanted, for any of them. You sat and watched everyone pass by. They were celebrating the new owner, one of the biggest deals they’d ever made. Some on their way to get drunk, others drunk already. Too much champagne. Finally, after a long time, you called again, listening to his voice play the message. Kendall, it’s me, you start. What next? You’re sorry. You’re sorry for putting them through all that you’ve put them through. The alcohol, the drugs, all those scary nights where they didn’t know where you were, if you were okay. All those nights where you weren’t sure where you were, if you’d make it out. You were sorry for calling him that night, for putting the blame on him if anything happened. You were sorry for blaming him. For not being the baby sibling he deserved. He deserved better, he expected better. I’m uh, I’ll be out of town for a while. You forgave him. You forgave him for all those outbursts, all those times he hurt you and Shiv and Con and especially Rome. You forgave him for turning into your father, the man you despised, the man you feared, the man you loved. I’ll be okay. I won’t, I’m not, I’m clean. I’ll stay that way. You loved him. You loved him despite the fear, despite the outbursts, despite the narrow path he chose to take. You loved him, and love him, because he’s your brother. He begged for you to stay awake, stay conscious. He wanted you to live even when you didn’t. That night, he looked like a ghost. I’m gonna miss you. A lot. Thank you for taking care of me, for loving me, for being there, you want to say. Thank you for being the best brother you could given the circumstances. Thank you for protecting me from him, from everyone. Call me when you can. I love you. Bye. 

This isn’t some magic answer to your sobriety. This isn’t a cure. Hell, it might be you running away again. Who knows? But you can feel it, finally. The anger, the rage, the wrath. That burden starts to feel less heavy day by day. It won’t disappear completely. You’re a Roy, it’s in your blood, in your genes. But it gets easier to carry, to hold, to take with you everywhere. You don’t want to cave in, not as much. Sure, a strong drink would help, but you made promises. You made promises you’d like to keep. Promises to yourself and to your family. You’d call Connor when you landed, wherever that is. You’ll tell Shivy, too, so she can come and visit. You’ll check in with Rome and give Kendall another call. Hopefully this time he picks up. Hopefully this time you can have a real conversation, you can talk to him, really thank him for all that he’s done. But you know your place is not here. Your people are, they always will. That mausoleum will be waiting for you like it waits for them. Eternity you’ll get to spend by their sides. Now though, now you have the choice. The choice to get better. The choice to get away. The choice to be free. You’ll see them again, you always will. They’re your brothers, your sister, the people who raised you. You’ll see them again despite the distance.

They can’t get rid of you that easily.

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.

Yes, this is exactly what it looks like. (there are also a bunch of euro trash songs on there oops) these are just a bunch of songs i think kurt might also like ( ᵕᴗᵕ )✩

My personal fave on there: Fahradsattel (ofc)

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. 

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