#The Sinclair Music Hall

[papas-pizzeria]

I've been watching Wednesday and I headcanon that Enid recommends Wednesday random artists/songs that she thinks Wednesday would like, Wednesday doesn't like most of the stuff she gets recommend but she secretly enjoys tally hall and tries to listen to them in secret so Enid isn't like "I TOLD YOU, YOU WOULD LIKE THEM HA!"

in short: I think Wednesday is a secret tally hall fan and idc if people think this headcanon is ooc I like it!!!

[lyricsandsuch]

Dylan Sinclair February 14th 2023 @ TD Music Hall

[thebowerypresents]

Shovels & Rope – Music Hall of Williamsburg – September 13, 2024

While Shovels & Rope are most known for their folk- and blues-fueled Americana, on their sixth long-player, Something Is Working Up Above My Head, the Charleston, S.C., married duo leans on a heavier punk-rock sound. And with their new album in tow, they made Friday the 13th a lucky night at Music Hall of Williamsburg.

(Shovels & Rope play The Sinclair in Cambridge, Mass., on Wednesday.)

Photos courtesy of Katie Dadarria | www.instagram.com/dadarria

[poguehearted77]

Wild Child

summary: after being sent away to boarding school for being a wild child you're finally back and celebrating your return in the only way you see fit.

smut: pool party, ragers, drug use (alcohol, vapes n weed), size kink, Rafe is cocky, mentions of old flings, manhandling, hot tubs, they do it on her parents' bed, rough sex, step-mom slander, reader is such a flirt n a tease, curvy reader, dom! rafe, bratty! reader, skinny dipping, mentions of body shots, choking, spanking (like once).

The morning sun was ascending high into the sky when you finally managed to get yourself out of your king-sized bed, fit for someone of your status and your parents' financial standing.

Your socked feet took padded steps towards your window where you overlooked the hills of figure eight. This was the first time you'd looked out your bedroom window in years. With a deep inhale a soft smile etched its way across your lips. You were finally home, and you had the house all to yourself. Or so you thought.

Your ears pick up on muffled indistinct chatter that managed to travel from the kitchen, down the halls up the elaborate staircase and into your room. Quickly, you headed for the source of the voices and were disappointed to see your dad and his wife plaything, Maria, conversing over coffee at the kitchen island.

"I thought you said the Jet leaves at dawn? What are you guys still doing here?" You try not to sound too curious, arms crossing naturally with your inquiry. With a clearing of his throat, your dad speaks up, "You only just came back two nights ago. Maria and I just don't think it's the right time to leave you alone for the weekend."

You scoff, "Why? You still don't trust me after what happened last time? Get over it, I'm twenty-one now, you can trust me." As you walked over to the fridge for a glass of water, you heard a muted exchange of ideas behind you.

"You can't expect us to forget about all the damage you caused. We still haven't found anyone to repair my crystal vases." You take a long sip, trying to swallow your toxic thoughts with the water.

She thinks she can just waltz up and down the house with that huge ring on her finger and think that her opinion carries any value to you.

You took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile, pitching your voice to become as sweet as honey.

"I can never apologize enough for what I did back then, but how will I ever earn your trust if you don't give me the chance." Your doe eyes land on your father, specifically his weakened composure.

You're about to break him, you can see it.

He exhales, all the air escaping through his nostrils.

Broken.

He glances down at his watch, "Fine, but if you throw another party so help me god Y/n you'll never see grass again." You play it cool, thanking him with a simple hug and completely disregarding Maria before you make your way back upstairs.

It's as though a weight had been lifted off your chest. You needed them out of the house, you'd been planning this party since you got back and made sure all the guests knew to keep it on the down low, just until they were gone.

The hours fly by, and you hardly keep track of time as you and some of your long-time friends set up the house for the party that you shouldn't be hosting, but you're Y/n Sinclair. Parties are your thing.

"Macy, you let the people in, kay? I'm gonna go get changed." The sun was beginning to set and the music was already blasting, vibrating over the marble floors of the house. Every lyric was punctuated with a shaking of the speakers that could be felt even outside.

The neighbours hated to see you coming.

You know your dad's jet was en route to Fiji and he wouldn't be able to reach you until he landed which wasn't for another six hours at minimum but by then the damage will be long done and far too late to stop.

You make your way up the stairs, the bass thumping through the house and vibrating beneath your feet. As you step into your room, your reflection catches your eye, excitement sparking in your gaze.

With a quick flick of your wrist, you reach for the strappy black and red two-piece, slipping it on, the cool fabric hugging every curve just right. Each strap crisscrosses elegantly, bold yet balanced, making you smile at how perfectly it all came together.

Next, you grab the sheer cover-up, wrapping it loosely around your waist so it drapes with a hint of movement, a playful edge that sways with you. You run your fingers through your curls, scrunching them gently to bring out their bounce, each coil framing your face in soft waves. Reaching for your lip gloss, you swipe it carefully over your lips, catching the light with a glossy shine.

One last look, and you’re ready, your heart beating in rhythm with the music below. The speakers are already blaring, the energy practically calling you back down. You step out with a final tousle of your curls, ready to join the night.

The energy crackles through the backyard as you make your way to the top of the outdoor staircase. The sun has slipped beneath the horizon, casting a dusky glow over the massive pool below, illuminated by floating lights that shimmer across the water.

The bar is buzzing with people grabbing drinks, and in the corner, the foam pit is already filling up, laughter and splashes mixing with the heavy beat of the music.

A neon sign hangs across from the bar, glowing boldly against the evening sky: The Queen of Kildare is Back. You grin, amused at the sight of it knowing it was 100% Macy's doing, and take a step down. Conversations hush, replaced by the roaring blast of excitement as heads turn your way. Hundreds of people, from familiar faces to those you only vaguely recognize from your past in Figure Eight, pause and look up, anticipation brimming in their eyes.

As you descend, your cover-up billows behind you, revealing the bold lines of your black and red two-piece. The crowd’s reaction is instant, erupting into cheers, whistles, and applause that echo across the yard.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n" They chant and you laugh. Every step closer to the party, you feel the atmosphere thicken, charged with that infectious blend of excitement and admiration. By the time you reach the bottom, someone’s already handing you a drink, while friends rush over to pull you in for hugs and greetings, their voices nearly drowned out by the music and shouts.

"Y/n Sinclair, s'Been a while."

There's a voice all too familiar addressing you from behind, prompting you to pivot to come face to face with a much taller Rafe than your brain could recall.

"Rafe Cameron. Long time no see." He goes in for the hug, your arms reaching over his broadened shoulders while his longer ones wrap around your waist before pulling back. He not so subtly checked you out, his tongue darting out over his lips briefly as he took you in and you did the same.

The buzzed hair sharpens his features, you think. Making his eyes seem darker, more intense, as they focus on you. His open linen shirt falls loosely over his frame, giving glimpses of his toned chest and the subtle gleam of a thin chain resting against his skin.

The shirt flutters with the breeze, barely hanging on his shoulders, hinting at the strong lines of his arms and drawing your eyes down to his relaxed, dark swim trunks.

He’s saying something, leaning slightly toward you, and his voice cuts smoothly through the bass of the party. Your eyes wander back up to his face, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he knows he’s caught your attention.

"You look good, too good. How long's it been?" It's hard for you to think with the heat of his gaze on you, but you don't falter, never surrendering to this never-ending game between the two of you.

"About 3 years." He hums, the way he looks at you, casual yet purposeful, makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, every sound around you fades, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the way he looks right at you, but you remind yourself to focus.

Rafe looks around the scene, eyes lingering over the wet t-shirt contest and then the game of chicken being held in the pool while others lounged on the various floaties or indulged in ungodly amounts of alcohol at the bar. As he does so, the pungent scent of weed drafts across your nostrils.

"Your old man know you're hostin' tonight?" You had to laugh, "Oh please, like he would ever let me have any kind of fun while he's in town. He and the skank are in Fiji."

The slight smirk that etches over his perfect lips taunts you. "So the house is yours?" He leans in, a little closer, closing the gap between you. "Until he comes back and banishes me again," You place a confident hand against his chest, pushing him away, "But for now, I'm here to party, and you should be too."

With that said you walk away from him, letting your hips sway with seduction radiating with each step. Rafe lets his thumb and fingers stroke over his jaw, feeling the weight of the pressure you'd just applied.

God, it was good to have you back.

The party raged on, slowly approaching its peak, body shots were going on at the bar, girls were doing lines in the bathrooms and the guys had insisted on a drunk game of volleyball in the pool.

Rafe took a break from the events of the party and watched from the sidelines on the couch, taking another hit of the vape that someone had passed to him, he's not sure he can remember who, and it wasn't relevant anyway.

The only person he had his sights set on is you. Watching you have the time of your life with your friends on the platform in the middle of the pool. Your little group, clearly intoxicated danced carefree while you'd begun to put your hands on the ground and throw your ass in circles.

Rafe choked, sitting up, some smoke coming through his nostrils at the interrupted airflow. He leaves his shirt behind on the couch with the abandoned vape, just as he heads for the pool topped hands him a beer which Rafe accepts before he gets in.

Maintaining a straight face as his body acclimatizes to the cool water he's almost immediately swarmed and roped into a round of whatever the current pool game was.

His icy gaze looks up to the center of the pool where you once were but are now nowhere to be found. "Looking for someone?" Your voice was mocking and he was grinning before he even turned around.

"I am actually." With little ripples in the water, he steps towards you maintaining a respectful distance that was driving you insane. "I was looking for someone to join me at the bar," He puts on a convincing facade but you roll your eyes, feigning innocence.

"Let me know if you find her," He slowly steps towards you and step back, "Don't play dumb with me, Y/n." Your plush lips form a gut-wrenching pout, "What do you mean?" Another step forward, another one back. The cycle repeats itself until he has you backed up against the edge of the pool.

Rafe’s hands find your waist, and before you can react, he’s lifting you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the pool. You're reeling at the slutty display of his sheer strength.

Your legs dangle, brushing against his chest, and he steps closer, slotting himself right between them. His hands rest on either side of you, his arms framing you in as he looks up with that sly grin, every bit as teasing as you are.

“Always out here playin' games, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet rasp just for you. “Gotta say, I respect it—always sticking it to your old man, doing your own thing.” He leans in, his gaze drifting down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Not many people around here have the guts for that.”

You scoff lightly, though your heart skips as his gaze lingers on you, intense and challenging. “Oh, please,” you tease, rolling your eyes. “Since when do you care about any of this?”

A quiet laugh slips from him as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along your thigh. “You think I haven’t been paying attention to you all these years?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“You might’ve been gone a while, but don't think I forgot all those nights we had our fun.” His words hang heavy between you as he pulls back slightly. Now his hand rests on your waist, his voice dropping lower.

He tilts his head, studying you with that familiar glint of mischief. “Now that you're back, I think we should relive some of our traditions, for old time's sake,” he says, leaning in until his lips brush against your jaw, light and teasing, close enough to make your pulse race. He pauses, his thumb skimming your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours, waiting. “But don’t act like you don’t want this as much as I do.”

Before you can snap back, his mouth claims yours, the kiss charged with all the years of pent-up tension and that all-too-familiar heat. His hands slide up to cradle your face as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepens, and when he finally pulls back just enough to catch his breath, he watches you with a smug, knowing grin.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your lips, his thumb tracing your jaw as if memorizing every inch. “That look you get right before we make a mess of things. I knew it—you missed this just as much as I did.”

If only someone could recount how the two of found yourselves stumbling up the stairs towards your room, your soaked sheer cover-up left forgotten somewhere in the house after Rafe pulled it off of your frame.

"Shit-- Rafe," your teeth dug into the flesh of your bottom lip as you reached to open your bedroom door, horrified to see two other people had monopolized it. They hadn't even noticed the door was opened so you quickly closed it.

"What the fuck, I thought everyone knew my room was off limits." With a quick scan, you noticed items were hanging off almost all the guest rooms in the hall letting others know the room was occupied.

"Shit, there's nowhere else to go in here?" You think quickly on your feet before rushing off to get something before returning with a key in your grip.

Rafe pulls you close with a smirk as you clutch the key to your father’s room, the gleam in your eyes daring him to follow. “Breaking all the rules tonight, aren’t we?” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with approval. His hand slips around your waist as you unlock the door, both of you glancing down the hall to be sure no one’s watching.

You twist the handle and push open the door, and his hand slides down to squeeze your hip, pulling you against him. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he whispers against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a thrill down your spine.

Once inside, you barely have a chance to lock the door before he has you pressed up against it. His lips are on yours, urgent and fierce, his hands roaming over your body with possessive ease. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathes between kisses, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your waist as he lifts your top, letting it fall to the floor. “Thought I’d forgotten?” you tease.

Rafe just about growls, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone, his hands sliding lower as he backs you towards the bed. His fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down with a smirk that sends heat rushing through you.

Your heart races as you feel the cool, forbidden sheets beneath you, the thrill of defying every rule and having Rafe look at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. His hands slide up your thighs, lips trailing down your neck as he leans over you. “You know,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out before him, “I always knew you were trouble. Guess that’s why I can’t stay away.”

With a smirk, he leans in, his lips brushing over yours as his hands explore, both of you savouring the thrill of being tangled up in each other once again.

"Look at these perfect fuckin' tits." He curses, big hands cupping your breasts, kneading them and rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. Your back arches slightly with a gasp, chest pressing up into him and he laughs.

"Still so sensitive here, angel? Some things never change." He reminisces and you roll your eyes, "Fuck off, Rafe." With the blink of an eye, his much larger frame was caging you in from above, his bulging biceps giving him an erotic juxtaposition in comparison to your head.

Balancing himself on one arm he slinks his palm around the expanse of your throat with a weighted pressure. "Been gone so long you forgot your manners? Mm? That's fine, I'll be sure to fuck some sense back into you."

Your eyes flutter shut at his filthy words as you feel his hand move and begin to work you between your legs. "Your pussy's fuckin' soaked--shit." He hisses, gaze hungry and his body acts on his thoughts faster than you can register.

A particularly loud moan slips from you as you feel his tongue skillfully lap over your folds, splitting you open as the warmth of his tongue protrudes into your core. "Yes, fuck! Please, don't stop Rafe." You moan, one hand reaching down to hold him by the hair and it hits you that he'd shaved it all off.

You let out a frustrated gruff, both hands fisting the sheets while you're forced to feel the vibrations of his sick laugh running through you at your dramatics. Even the tip of his nose had been covered in your slick, your juices running down his chin as he ate you out like a man starved.

He wouldn't be surprised if they could hear you from outside, but he knows everyone is far too high, too drunk or both to hear you. It wasn't long before your legs were beginning to shake and came with his name falling from your lips over and over like a prayer.

Taking deep breaths to recover from debatedly the best orgasm you've ever experienced, Rafe walked over to the far wall, out of sight, doing something you couldn't see before returning.

Without speaking he scoops you up into his arms, bridal style, another shameless display of his strength but it would be a lie to say it didn't drive you crazy. "What-what are you doing?" Your questions are ignored until he approaches the bubbling hot tub.

A wicked smirk curls across his lips as he eases you onto your feet in the warm water, his hands lingering on your waist, keeping you close. He gazes at you with that knowing glint, the steam rising around you both.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down your figure, unapologetic. His fingers skim over your sides, sending a shiver through you that’s from anything but the water.

“Are you really just gonna stand there?” you call, feeling the thrill of his attention but wanting to turn the tables, your voice laced with playful challenge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckles, unfastening his swim trunks and letting them fall to the side with a carefree grin. “I plan on joining you,” he says, slipping into the water and closing the distance between you two with smooth, unhurried steps. You take a hard swallow at his size, you don't remember him being this big.

He was going to destroy you.

You raise an eyebrow, matching his smirk. “Pretty bold of you, Rafe,” you say, your voice teasing as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Just like old times, hmm?”

“Better than old times,” he murmurs, dipping his head so his lips graze your ear, his voice a low rumble. “Because now, nothing is stopping us.” He punctuates his sentence by pressing his body up against your back, elevating you a bit so your torso leans over the edge of the tub, granting him easy access to you.

"Fuck, can't believe your ass got even more fucking perfect since last time." His hand raises and comes back down with a loud spank that pulls a sinful moan from your throat. "Rafe, stop teasing." You whine, arching your back and pressing back against him.

His composure already weekend, he decided to let you get away with it this time before he lined up the swollen head of his thick cock with your entrance, "Better grab onto something." That's the last thing you hear before you're being impaled on his dick, your upper half immediately falls forward, and he stills, giving you a second.

You're breathless, it feels like his cock was taking up all the room in your lungs. Some water had splashed over the ledge but that was the least of your worries. Your mind was hazy and focused on Rafe's grunts that escaped him with every snap of his hips.

"Wish you could see how hot you look right now. The Sinclair wild child knows how to take big dick like a champ." His words run straight through you like electricity, fanning the flames of the burning heat that was beginning to form in your belly.

"Shit--This pussy was fuckin' made for me, y'know that?" You moan at his possessive statement. You can only nod, your body had gone limp long ago as he drilled into you. "R-rafe! I'm-" As if you weren't close enough, his fingers begin to rub over your clit aggressively and you jolt with a shriek.

"Oh- fuck, don't stop! Fuck! I'm gonna cum! Please, Rafe." You beg, over and over, arms hanging onto the edge of the tub for dear life as more water splashes around you.

"Wait for me, hold it until I say you can come." You're chewing your lip raw, desperately trying to hold yourself back as he wrecks you from the inside out, his moans getting more frequent, a little more airy and breathless as he tumbled toward his edge of pleasure.

"Cum with me, Angel." Your body spasms as you finish together and he leans his weight against your back, his laboured breathing fanning your ear as you come down from your high.

"Not bad, princess." You couldn't respond and Rafe took note of this, carefully holding you up with one final smug remark, "Hope I didn't wear out the queen of Kildare."

[charleslee-valentine]

I’ve spent a long time now sorting through screenshots, behind the scenes footage, designers portfolios, and I think I’ve deciphered the map of Ambrose.

Starting on the left side of the street, there’s a hardware/outdoor store, noted by the wheelbarrow outside and assorted parts on the shelves.

Connected to that is a small plaza with a Dentist’s office (the window stickers mention denture prices), a diner with outside seating, and what appears to be a bar judging from the bar stools in the window. It may be connected to the diner.

Finally for the end section of the strip, this shop is less clear, but based on the sign that ends in “-ium” and the button tufted display, I’m guessing this is a premium/high end store or some kind of emporium.

Directly across the street from that is a club. The window faces the street, and around back is the entrance. Also in this plaza is the pet store Carly walks to, a drug store, the grocery store (Flannery’s) that Nick goes to, and a barber shop.

Crossing the street again, there’s a large bowling alley.

Surrounding the bowling alley are residential homes as it transitions into neighborhood territory. You can tell from the fences around these homes that they aren’t public property. The one directly next to bowling lanes is the green house that the wax woman looks through the window of.

Crossing the street again, this part was already labeled by the lighting plot, but that’s the garden (really just some dead shrubs and a gazebo,) the cemetery, and the church. There’s also a second building on the church property that shares the same sidewalk. Although it looks completely nondescript, buildings like this connected to church property would usually be used for non-worship activities like Sunday school, community events like meetings, or funeral services (though Trudy’s viewing is right in the main church, so that’s less likely.)

With the church as a reference point, going back down the opposite side of the street, there’s what looks to be some kind of fashion or accessories store. In the window, I see wig heads wearing hats, and maybe some shoes. I found a sketch of a storefront that also reminds me of perfume bottles and shoes, so the idea was at least considered.

Obviously as the two buildings have back to back doors, next to this is the Guns & Ammo store that Nick and Carly break into. This also connects directly to the movie theater.

The theater is also connected to a small electronics store on the other side.

Directly across from that would be Bo’s gas station. There’s a huge advertisement right next to the station for financing loans, but the front of the building it’s painted on shows its a media video/music store. (ps the yellow truck Vincent drives is the “company” tow truck for the station.)

Connected in a plaza with the video store is a dry cleaner and, based on context clues, a furniture store. In the possibly furniture store window, there appears to be rolled up rugs or carpets, and a large wooden shelf. The strange point of view of the shot where these shops are visible seems to imply that the businesses once had apartments over top, or at least that things are being hoarded in the upper floors.

Across the alley street from that is a fire station, connected with city hall. This is where the Miss Ambrose posters were displayed. On each side, there are blue garage doors, possibly with more emergency vehicles for the town.

The House of Wax and the Sinclair house are placed at higher reliefs than the other businesses and homes, symbolizing their importance and once, their wealth and celebrity status.

[stirthewaters]

Too Sharp to Touch pt.10

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: At a hangout with the gang at the lake, you receive an unexpected visitor after an extremely uncomfortable encounter.

Warnings: Language, brief descriptions of stripping? Creepy dude, mentions of alcohol, drugs, needles.

Pairings: Wednesday x Reader

Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS, wishing everyone the best holidays, I'll see all of you next year! <3

Enid Sinclair was almost positive that she was losing her mind. 

Watching you and Wednesday converse was just a slow torture at this point; could you two not see the obvious connection right in front of you? It made the blonde want to shake some sense into one of you.

After the carving event from last week, Enid had returned to the dorm early to see Wednesday seated with her cello on the balcony, fingers poised over the strings, a breath of anticipation in the air as if about to start… but she didn’t. It was as if the Addams were frozen in thought, caught in her own mind. When the werewolf had called out to her roommate, questioning if she was alright, she received some half-assed response about preparing her sheet music.

But she knew otherwise.

You, of course, were trying to be subtle and failing. Miserably. You usually weren’t such a bad actor when it came to these things. And Enid had seen you with crushes before; she knew the signs, and you definitely had your eyes on the Addams.

So screw the whole “partners investigation”, she would not be able to physically or mentally handle it if she watched her roommate go over her file of evidence with you in the dining hall one more time. If you moved your hand just a tiny bit to the left you could have touched Wednesday's hand. Or if you scooted just slightly to the side you could have touched your thighs. And Enid had a sneaking suspicion that her roommate would allow your touch, not to mention the fact that she’d literally seen her do so before.

It was after you had your fighting lesson with Wednesday that Enid approached her roommate, already very much prepared to play her well-practiced role of matchmaker. The Addams was storing her gear in her locker neatly, placing her helmet on the top shelf as Enid approached, her neat bangs slightly pressed against her forehead with sweat. 

“Howdy Wednesday, how was fighting practice?” Enid hummed as she skipped over, grinning. 

“Average,” came the unsatisfying response. Enid had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. As the goth started down the hall she quickly followed suit; how could such a short girl move so fast?

“That’s it? Just average?” She pressed gently, following her movements. “Come on, you gotta give me the details.” The blonde was met with Wednesday’s dark eyes flitting over to meet hers, eyebrows slightly furrowed as she responded easily, “What more is there to say? It was merely lessons. Nothing more, nothing less. Just an associate returning a favor.”

Associate. Enid knew her roommate to know that that wasn’t the only word she’d use to describe you. Huffing, she swerved around a passing student as she spoke, being as subtle as possible. “Did you have fun?”

Wednesday paused, eyes widening slightly in disbelief as she glanced at the blonde, nose scrunching in slight disgust. “Enid, I assure you I do not “have fun”. I merely fulfilled a responsibility. What pleasure would one find in that?” She picked up the pace slightly.

“I dunno Willa, you just aren’t complaining as much as you usually do about…anything.” Enid grinned softly, daring to give the raven a soft nudge to the shoulder with her own. Wednesday tensed but didn’t push her away, merely turning the corner towards their shared dorm, and heading for the stairs. “If in the case I have found satisfaction in my lessons with Y/N it’d be simply for the reason that it’s refreshing to teach someone who possesses actual skill at the sport rather than dumb luck.” Wednesday paused slightly, eyes narrowing as she shot Enid a look. “And if you tell her that I ever said such a thing then the both of you will end up with a silver bullet in the leg.” Unfazed, Enid gave a slight shrug, nodding in agreement to her roommate’s statement. At least now she was getting somewhere. “Are you planning on working with Y/N today?”

“If we progress further in our case then I’d assume so, but nothing has been planned for today. It’s rather convenient, seeing as my writing hour is approaching.” As Enid made the climb after her up the narrow staircase, she had to think fast. She couldn’t give up now, not after getting this far. Looking around quickly she gave a soft curse, wishing silently that Thing could be here when she actually needed him. Pulling out her phone she shot you quick text before stuffing her phone back into her pocket, casually leaning against the doorframe of the dorm as Wednesday entered her closet to change. 

“Well, I hope you enjoy yourself, I’ll be out of your hair soon anyways, I’m off with Y/N and the gang to go to the lake.” There was a silence that followed from the closet, the only sound present being the faint ruffling of clothing as Enid’s eyes wandered over the wooden doorframe, making sure not to accidentally peek. She had the Addams now, she knew it. It was a success to herself knowing that if she managed to get Wednesday to abandon her writing hour for you she’d be sure of her suspicions. After a moment the raven reappeared, dressed comfortably in her white and black striped shirt with her black fleece hoodie pulled over, adjusting her sleeves as she spoke, eyebrows furrowed just slightly.

“I wasn’t aware Y/N’s schedule had changed.”

“Yeah, it was like a recent thing, Bianca shot the group chat a text and apparently everyone was free so it was pretty lucky. Even Kent is coming.”

“And Marcelo?” “What does Marcelo have to do with anything?” Enid paused, interest piqued as she glanced at the raven, who was now seated at her desk, fingers poised at her typewriter as if ready to type, though she hadn’t moved yet, eyes focused on the keys as she muttered,

“No particular reason; morbid curiosity spurs me to refer to the fact that Marcelo has certain interests in Y/N.”

“Yeah, but -” Enid moved further into the room, raising an eyebrow. If anything, you hated Marcelo, and she knew it well. God, could she go on about the nights that you’d spent ranting about the dumbass. Yeah, Marcelo. “- he’s mostly just tagging along because Kent’s gonna be there. He’s kind of hard to exclude.” She paused, frowning softly before glancing at the Addams, who was now typing away, precisioned fingers flying across the keyboard. “Do you expect us to just kick him out?”

“Out of pure sadism, I might go so far as to say yes,” Wednesday muttered under her breath, easily detectable to Enid’s ears as her fingers pounded harder against the keyboard. 

“Well, we’re not, unfortunately.” Enid paused, biting her lip slightly as her eyes darted around the room, mind racing to find a solution. Maybe this was going to be harder than she thought. Taking a quick inhale, she rapidly decided that she’d just have to hope for the best. “Well, I hope you enjoy your night, I’m gonna head out.” The blonde shouldered her bag that was already ready on her bed, walked out of the dorm, and closed the door behind her.

God, she hoped this would work.

-

The lake was calm. Silent. You liked it.

The group was typically rowdy, breaking through the calm quiet of the water, but you didn’t mind that either. The sky was already darkening, the sound of a few crickets filling the air as everyone set up. A calm breeze sent the trees gently ruffling, the waters of the lake rippling. It was almost hard to imagine the exact same body of water being filled with students and boats, bustling with energy.

“Finish daydreaming and help me blow up the float, furball.” You caught an elbow in the side from Bianca, and you let out a soft wince, rolling your eyes as you held out your hand for said float, sitting on the dock beside the siren to begin filling the large float, preparing the pump, and connecting the attachments. “We’re lucky if Kent doesn’t pop one like last time.” “For your information, it was a bet, which I totally won,” Kent spoke up from the hill, scowling slightly as he worked at unbuttoning his shirt, and throwing it at Bianca. “At least I follow through on bets, unlike someone-”

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes as you groaned, starting to pump air into the float. “You guys really expected me to actually hunt down a squirrel?” “You’re the one that suggested it in the first place,” Kent shrugged, at the exact same time that Yoko shouted from the pathway - “You’re a werewolf, dumbass! Wolves hunt things!”

“Well it wasn’t even relatively close to a full moon so it was automatically discredited,” you grumbled to yourself, huffing as you put more pressure on the pump handle. Yoko stepped to drop her bag on the dock, and the clinking of bottles immediately made you perk up, instantly recognizing the sound. “You brought booze?”

“Don’t tell me you expected less,” Yoko scoffed, a small grin playing on her face that perfectly showed off her fangs that glinted slightly in the evening light. “Isn’t that my role here?”

"Hell yes, Tanaka," Bianca grinned from her position, working at the other float as she spoke.

"The good stuff?" You perked slightly, curious, as you pulled at the bag, trying to get a peek before Enid slapped your hands away.

“You don't get any,” Enid huffed, folding her arms as she shot you a look, raising an eyebrow whilst dumping her towel onto the dock. “We’re not supposed to have it in the first place and I’m sure you all remember from the last time that she can’t handle it.”

"And yes, it's the good stuff," Yoko grinned slightly, emphasizing her words. "Don't expect anything less."

“Fuck you,” you stuck out your tongue at the blonde, who shot one right back. “You were tipsy as hell, don’t get me started.” Enid rolled her eyes, sitting on the wood as she huffed in response, “Still not as bad as you. You’re lucky Weems didn’t catch you or you’d’ve had even more community service.” After a moment she cocked her head, in an almost dog-like fashion. “Aren’t you gonna get changed though?”

“Miss I’m-In-Charge told me to blow up this shit,” you roll your eyes, ignoring the look Bianca shoots you. “If you don't mind taking over then I can get it done.”

Enid sighed and moved you out of the way, taking the pump in her own hands as she gestured you to go. “Just don’t get run over.”

You paused, scanning the undergrowth around the lake for a good spot, eyes narrowing as you silently thanked the stars that you had a decent vision in the dark. “give me like two minutes.” You scooped up your change of clothing, kicking off your shoes as you stepped onto the path, dodging a chunk of mud hurled from Ajax at Kent. 

It took you a bit to get deep enough into the undergrowth that you were sure you were out of view, not that you thought anyone would go looking in the dark for you. Stepping behind a clump of bushes you pulled at your top, placing it on a branch to hang as you tugged at the straps of your tank top. It was almost eerily quiet now that you were far off from the group; the sounds of laughter and talking were audible, yes, but only faintly, one that could be easily tuned out if you didn’t focus on it. 

A faint stick cracking brought you out of your thoughts as you paused, eyebrows furrowing as you straightened, eyes whipping around the foliage in search of the source. Nothing. Odd. You shrugged it off; it must be a rabbit or something like that.

“Y/N?” Jumping clear out of your skin, you let out a hiss of surprise as you raced to cover yourself, pulling a towel around your upper half as you turned on your heel, eyes wide and senses up, to see Marcelo standing a couple feet away, partially hidden by low hanging branches.

“Marcelo, what the actual fuck?” You hissed, heart pounding as you took a small step back, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable with just the towel between you and him. He was giving you that stupid grin, the one you wished to God you could smack off of his face.

“Wow, did not think I’d walk in on some Y/L/N ass tonight-” he took a step forwards, almost matching your step back as he spoke as his grin grew slightly. “You look good.”

“What the hell are you doing here? The group is all the way over there -” You pointed with your arm, a frown on your face as you spoke. “No offense but it’s making you look like a creep right now that you were hiding in the bushes of all places watching me strip.” “Oh come off it, don’t be sensitive,” the werewolf rolled his eyes with a scoff, gesturing to the towel over his shoulder as he took another step forward. “I just got here, I heard movement on the bank and thought it was the group.”

“In the bushes?” You frown scornfully, adjusting the towel tighter around your chest as you bump against the trunk behind you, eyebrows narrowing as you feel your heart pick up the pace. “Don’t be an idiot, just go.”

“What a warm welcome,” he muttered, eyes lingering slightly on your towel. “You don’t need to rush me away like that. Don’t tell me you don’t wanna see me?” “I never said that.” You pause, lying right through your teeth as you cast a glance through the undergrowth, almost praying that Enid, Yoko, or someone would show up. “If you’d ever heard of privacy maybe you’d understand.” “Come on, Y/N -” Marcelo took a step forward, warm hand landing on your wrist. You frowned, eyes narrowing as you tried to shake it off, your grip on the towel loosening as you did so. Quickly reacting, you tried to move away to fix it but instead, the werewolf reached for it, "I can help with that-” Just as you were about to smack the shit out of him, he froze in place, eyes glazing over slightly as he took a small step back. 

“Marcelo, what the fuck-” you stepped forward, eyes widening as right before you he crumpled, body collapsing onto the dirt as he passed out cold. You quickly scrambled to throw on your top, before kneeling and checking his pulse. Alive, yes. Conscious, obviously not, but you couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening until you spotted Thing, beside his left ankle, which now had a needle jammed into it. 

“Thing?” Your eyes widened in shock, taking a moment to process before you stuttered. “W-what the hell did you do? He’s not gonna die, is he?”

“Unfortunately not.” A voice to your left scared the shit out of you for the second time that night as you jumped, bumping into the branch beside you. “Shit! What the- the-”

Your words fell away as you narrowed your eyes, recognizing Wednesday’s dark form among the trees, arms folded over her chest with a barely concealed look of disgust at the unconscious Marcelo, eyes dark. It took you a couple seconds to catch your breath again as you immediately felt your heartbeat pick right back up again, at a loss for words. 

“It was a simple dose of thiopental. He’ll most likely experience a few side effects once it wears off, but fortunately, you won’t have to suffer through that again.” The Addams stepped forward, nudging his ankle as she leaned down, removing the needle and placing it neatly in her bag. “It was pathetic to watch, being honest.”

“B-but why- how-” you fought to understand, placing a finger on your temple as you glanced at her, somehow surprised by her nonchalance. “You knew I was here?”

“I was sending Thing to drop off the towel Enid had left in the dorm when he informed me of your situation. I accompanied him back with the sedatives.” Wednesday’s dark eyes met yours evenly, tone now laced with faint disdain. “Believe me when I say I’d be more than glad to do it again. You weren’t the only one bothered by him.”

“Yeah, he’s an ass.” You mumbled breathlessly, eyes dropping to Marcelo once more as you softly inhaled, fighting down a shudder. As if sensing your discomfort, Wednesday took a step backward, glancing out over the lake as she muttered, “This will stay between us three, understood? If he asks questions, let me know.” You gave a little nod, recovering your breath as you found the words you needed, meeting her gaze once more as you felt your pulse quicken once more. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” Wednesday turned her head slightly, breaking eye contact as she gazed across the lake through the branches. “I’ll have to remind you in the future to carry around the correct poisons.” She bent down, grabbing Marcelo’s wrists as Thing moved to support his waist, the two of them positioned to haul him away.

“Do you need help?” You took a step forward, already reaching for one of the werewolf’s ankles to be of assistance, but Wednesday shook her head, the faintest sadistic gleam in her eye that honestly, at this point you were used to. “That won’t be necessary. Me and Thing have performed this task several times before; I’m looking forward to this.” Nodding, you watched as the two of them easily slid the unconscious boy up the hill, quickly disappearing into the dark as you took a moment to process, slowly sliding down to a squat as the welcoming and comforting scent of dirt and undergrowth filled your senses, your adrenaline slowly dying as you let out a long sigh, processing as you grounded yourself, the only sound present in your senses now the faint chatter in the distance and the trees swaying gently.

“Y/N? Where the hell are you?” Broken out of your thoughts, you glanced out over the shore, spotting Enid, hand shielding her eyes as she approached. “Are you good? It’s been a lot longer than two minutes-” “I’m fine, E,” you stood, brushing off your arms as you threw your towel and clothes over your shoulder, stepping out of your hiding spot as you approached, moving her hand out of her face. “Took longer than I thought. I’m all good.” 

-

Marcelo woke up that night tied to a chair.

 

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@idkjustliving2 @alexkolax @tekanparadiae

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Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977

Part 1/3 Also on Ao3 here

For @harringrove-relay-race. Very happy with how part 1 turned out, and there will be more to come. Thanks to @foxxtastic for the intro and next up will be something stunning from our fearless Relay Race leader @half-oz-eddie

Rated M / 5k words / Part 1/3

Part 1: Into Hades

Rolling Stone Magazine - May 2002

Billy Hargrove arrived after I did, in his lovingly maintained blue Camaro, the subject of his song, “Lady Blue.” “Lady Blue” was recently named #93 on Rolling Stone’s Top Love Songs of the Century.

“I wrote, ‘She’s the wind in my hair, the rumble in my soul.’ I thought it was so obvious,” He laughed, his blue eyes still boyish. “My niece made it her wedding song, I said ‘Really? It’s about a fuckin’ car!’”

He showed me several pictures of his niece, the supermodel Tyler Sinclair. It seems good looks run in the family. He suggested the diner and he ordered waffles, winking when I mentioned that we’ll be here a long time.

The decades have been kind to him, maybe a few more lines. It’s not hard to imagine him stepping right back onto the stage, as if no time has passed at all.

“A little extra glitter on the eyes,” He said with a smile, “to hide my crows feet. That’s all I need.”

I ask what he’s going to wear to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for Kaleidoscope's induction and his smile dims only for a moment.

“I think I should pull out some old costumes. You know, the butterfly still fits.”

He was referring, of course, to the sheer butterfly cape costume that nearly had him thrown off the stage in Houston Texas in December 1976. He caved to putting on a pair of silvery shorts rather than the nude underwear it was designed with. He later wore it with the nude underwear on the inside cover of Kaleidoscope, the album that will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in just a few short weeks. Kaleidoscope was his last album with the iconic Glam Rock band Pretty Boy, which famously broke up at the height of their career while touring for the album, onstage.

It’s not often that a band is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and there’s a question if all of them will even show up.

“I’ll be there,” Hargrove said, fiddling with the silver band on his middle finger. “I have no problem with seeing him.”

The him is, of course, the lead guitarist and other lead singer of Pretty Boy, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington invites me to his oceanfront house in Malibu later that afternoon.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to go,” He said thoughtfully, his brown eyes darting around the room.

When I mention that Billy is going to go, he seems surprised.

“He didn’t say he was going to punch me, did he?” Harrington smiled, but it doesn’t seem like much of a joke.

For one of the most famous rock stars of the 70s, Harrington is shockingly low key. He wears a t-shirt and slouchy linen pants, and he jokes that he ought to have shaved when I take out my camera. The house is stunning but empty, with miles of blank white walls and overstuffed white furniture.

“I’m looking for a little peace,” He shrugs, “I used to have all these pictures up, all this furniture… It was too much.”

It was hard not to see him as an artist without a muse. He drifted listlessly, picking things up and putting them down as we talked. So it was a surprise to me to hear that he’s been recording.

“I may never release it but… Yeah,” He laughed, “Music. After all this time. Bet you didn’t know.”

He picks up a rare photo from the piano. It’s from the early days of Pretty Boy, before Billy Hargrove. Harrington has his arm around his bandmate, Eddie Munson. Their drummer Chrissy Cunningham is balanced precariously across their shoulders, laughing and cringing at the same time. Bassist Robin Buckley smirks from the corner of the frame, messy bangs in her eyes.

“Who knew, right?” He asked no one, shaking the frame a little.

There are no pictures of Billy Hargrove.

“That’s a… a long story,” He said, when I asked.

But I have time. I tell him Rolling Stone will pay for it. At least that makes him laugh.

It was just by chance that Pretty Boy’s last concert was filmed.

“We were meant to just film in Vegas,” The director, Argyle Molina-Zapata, sat down with me after a private screening of Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977, “But there was a freak rainstorm, and I couldn’t get my camera’s out of the back. The crowd was digging it, refused to leave. I remember when Billy hit the high note for ‘Mother Make Me,’ there was this lightning crack… brilliant.”

Molina-Zapata shook his head, “But the footage, what I got of it, was awful. Awful! So I begged Murray to let me come with them to Santa Fe.”

Murray was Murray Bauman, famed tour manager, who handled the Boys, later Pretty Boy from their first album Starfire, all the way to Kaleidoscope.

“And I was lucky,” Argyle nodded, “They had that extra tour bus.”

The tour busses are featured in the first few minutes of the film. They roll around the corner, one reading Billy Blue (Billy’s original stage name was  Billy Blue before he dropped the Blue), and the other, Steve’s Six (Named after Steve’s best friends from his hometown.)

“They were nightmares,” Murray Bauman’s voice crackled over the phone, “Nightmares on tour. Separate buses. Separate hotels. Fuck me, I swear to god at one point they wanted separate stages. And the label caved on almost all of it. Fucking nightmare.”

It’s almost impossible to imagine it when you see them on stage together. There’s something electric that passed between Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington, something that drove crowds wild. They gravitate towards each other on the stage, orbiting like planets until they can share the same mic. They can’t seem to stay apart.

It’s hard to see exactly what happened that night.

“I’ve watched it a million times,” Argyle laughed, “But the only two people who can really say what happened are Billy and Steve.”

What you can see is this: Steve tearing into “Pride & Prejudice”, the lead off Kaleidoscope and the last song of the night.

Billy was trembling, visibly shaking as he sang and Steve harmonized along.

What can I say, if you ask me to walk away?

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Billy danced closer, joining Steve, his handheld mic loose at his side.

Can you ever put away your pride?

Is it worth it to not have me at your side?

I guess it must be, because I’m yours,

Regretfully,

Baby.

Billy leans in, sharing Steve’s mic for the bridge.

Is it really a mystery?

What I mean to you, and you mean to me?

Is it really, baby?

Billy shook his head, curls bouncing. He looked into Steve's eyes. He smiled. Steve looks at Billy, and Billy looks at him. It almost looks like Billy mouths something, but bootleg footage also has appeared where it looks like Billy just nodded. Steve goes a little shell shocked, hand freezing on his guitar, falling out of sync.

And then Steve turned away and left the stage, handing his guitar to a stagehand. Billy turned to the crowd, his expression strangely triumphant. He was always magnetic on stage, but this moment transcends that. It somehow feels like he’s getting everything he wants.

So I guess I’m losing you,

You promised me you would and it’s true.

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Steve Harrington hasn’t performed in public since 1977.

“None of us knew what was going to happen that night,” Chrissy Cunningham curled up next to her husband, Eddie Munson, on the large white couch of their Seattle home.

They’re a handsome couple still, draped in rock and roll finery. He toyed with the edge of her scarf, and she curled his long hair around her long fingers.

“We had some of our own shit going on at the time so…” Munson shrugged, “Maybe we were distracted.”

Their living room was crowded and verdant, every spare flat surface covered in plants. Their partner, former record executive Jason Carver, puttered in the kitchen in an apron that read Plant Papa.

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled, “We had some stuff going on at the same time. But still… It seemed like they were getting better. Didn’t it seem like they were getting better?”

Munson shrugged, “The thing about Billy and Steve… they were soulmates. You don’t write music like that and not… it was like they had a second language, just for them. They were soulmates, I really believe that. Everything they did, everything that happened… they could only hurt each other that badly if… yeah.”

When I ask what they did to each other, Eddie and Chrissy just scooted closer together, like teenagers in a slasher, hiding from the killer. She laid a hand over his leg, her two stone diamond ring catching the sunlight.

“Steve never wanted Billy to be in the band,” Eddie shook his head, “but Jim had a soft spot for Billy. And Steve had… I mean Jim was…”

“Jim was like a father. To all of us.” Chrissy’s knee jiggled.

“We were this little tiny band from Nowhere, Indiana,” Eddie nodded, “And Jim believed in us.”

“I was just a junior exec at the time. I was put on the Kaleidoscope tour in case of catastrophic failure, which by the way it was,” Jason Carver is making risotto while we speak, the steam curling the lock of hair that falls over his face. “But it wasn’t my fault although I was high as hell on coke half the time. I guess I deserved to get fired. But Jim was the real deal. Gold records out the ass, best wife in the world, and his daughter, I mean… she was something else.”

They’re referring, of course, to Jim Hopper, producer on Kaleidoscope as well as Billy Blue and The Boys’ records, and the father of pop superstar Eleven aka Jane Hopper.

“Jim was…” Steve Harrington’s eyes always got a little misty talking about Jim, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah, I guess he was a little like my dad. My own parents were always gone. Which is like… I grew up so privileged so like I’m not saying… I just mean I grew up mostly by myself. And we were just so lucky he even agreed to listen to us when we got to LA.”

“I remember that night,” Joyce Hopper’s voice was raspy, cigarette-y in the way only old movie stars are. She’s a gorgeous woman in jeans and a gardening hat, speaking to me while she tends to her garden at her home in Castellammare. “He came home and said, ‘I have the next ones, the next big ones. Fuck, Joyce, they’re brilliant. Unpolished, but brilliant.’”

When I ask about when Jim discovered Billy Hargrove she just laughed.

“If Steve and the rest of The Boys were unpolished, Billy Hargrove was a fucking ten carat diamond,” She said. “But Steve’s band was Jim’s, and he could polish them up how he wanted. And then when he thought they were just right for it… he set the diamond.”

Jim Hopper was a big man, larger than life both in appearance and in personality. His fingerprints are all over some of the best hits of the decade.

Watching him on old interviews, there’s an immediacy to his presence that leaps off the screen.

“My daughter is the one who really found him. She snuck out with her sister and wandered God knows where. And she just… found him. Called me the next morning, saying ‘Dad, you have to hear this guy.’ He was playing in this… terrible club,” Jim said, tapping his cigar on the table of Merv Griffin’s set. “Absolute shithole, pardon my french. And he’s got a great voice, you’ve heard his voice, right?”

“I have,” Merv said.

“I had to get him out of there. He was a star.”

Billy Hargrove was a teenage runaway from San Diego when he came to LA in 1971.

“I had a girl’s backpack from my stepsister, eight dollars, and an extra pair of underwear. By the end of the next week? I had two more dollars,” Billy laughed. “But I got lucky. I met Heather.”

Heather Holloway was a showgirl at Wildwoods, a nightly revue. She found Billy at the backdoor, and took him to her apartment.

“She saved me,” He frowned. “Whenever I needed her most.”

Heather Holloway, Billy Hargrove’s first and only wife, died in 1979. 

“I got a job singing at Sugar, this great gay club downtown. It was in the late afternoons, so I had a crowd of about… two. But those two brought two more,” Billy smiled, “Heather would talk me up to all the promoters. He’s a singer, he’s great, you’ll love him, he’s so cute.”

“He was an instant hit,” Sugar’s manager, Bob Newby, tells me by phone as well. “I did have to keep a couple of creeps off him, when he just started he was only nineteen. But even if you closed your eyes… he was a hit.”

“Guys used to think that because I was a part of the entertainment, I was fair game. And let me tell you, the novelty of that wears off mighty quick,” Billy shakes his head.

He shares a diary entry from his late wife of a night in April 1972. He came to her home with blood all over his face.

“Some guy thought because I was a fag…” Billy’s mouth twisted, but he went on, cradling the little marble notebook in his hand. “He could do whatever he wanted to me. When I fought back… he cracked a bottle over my head.”

He’s not just a piece of meat. He’s a person. I don’t understand these people. I just don’t understand, Heather Holloway wrote. I cleaned him up and he’s sleeping now.

The next diary entry is from a day later. April 12. Billy and I drove to Vegas and got married. When we spoke in the morning he said he was afraid for me too, even though I’m careful with the girls. He’s afraid of the cops trying to bust up the Wildwoods and picking me up. At least this way, he says. He and I can come home to each other. Look out for each other. Always. The groom wore band aids and his great velvet pants. The bride wore lavender. It was perfect.

“And lucky too. Because within a month… I met Jim,” Billy smiled. “And my whole life changed.”

Upside Down Records signed Billy Blue, unagented, in1972 and he spent the next year working on his debut album with Jim Hopper.

“I didn’t even realize, when it happened,” Billy shook his head. “A couple of girls came by after a show, wanting to talk to me, wanting to meet me. That wasn’t that unusual. But they were young, far too young to get into the club. And the little one, she was asking all these weird questions. Did I have an agent? Did I know if I had enough songs for an album? Weird fuckin’ questions. And then she said I have to meet someone. To be honest, I thought she was coked out of her mind when she said, ‘You have to meet my dad.’”

“I was not,” Eleven promised me, “coked out of my mind. But that’s just Billy.”

Eleven aka Jane Hopper, meets me backstage at one of her shows. She’s dressed in slouchy leather pants, to match her sister and drummer Kali Hopper.

“I knew he was something special. My dad was always talking about the IT factor. That thing that made a person something special. But I didn’t get it until I saw Billy Blue singing on that tiny stage,” She smiled. “He didn’t just have the IT factor. He was IT.”

It’s odd then, that Billy Blue’s first album had a surprisingly tepid response. His first single, in 1973, “Let Alone,” came in at only 26th for the month of April on the pop charts.

“People liked it,” Billy shrugs, “But I don’t think they knew what to do with it. You have my songs, these like… little pop love songs and ballads. I wasn’t that strong of a writer at the time. It was like half my songs, half covers. And so they’d book me, expecting fucking… Peter Frampton. And here comes this big queer with glitter on his nipples.”

But the lyrics of “Let Alone” would hint at his later songs, a hallmark simplicity that shone off his raw voice and poetry that hinted at a troubled past.

And if you were meant to care for me

You would, and that’s how it has to be

You said I couldn’t go on without you

Ha, look at me, looking brand new

At the same time, The Boys’ song “Paper Girl,” penned by Harrington, was number one.

She’s my paper girl

She’s my paper girl

Wakes me up every morning, right on time

She got me smiling, got my head in a whirl

Picture perfect, paper girl

“Billy didn’t have much commercial appeal. Sex appeal, yes,” Jason laughed, toying with Chrissy’s hair. “But for sales? That’s where The Boys came in.”

“I hated that name,” Eddie said, “To start with we were half girls.”

The Boys had already had a somewhat successful tour under their belt by the time Jim suggested a collaboration with Billy Hargrove.

“It was a nice, short tour,” Steve Harrington glances away when I ask about the first tour.

“It was a nightmare. Balls to the wall nightmare,” Robin Buckley’s voice is a warm crackle over the phone. “Steve went on like thirty overlapping benders at once.”

Her partner, soap actress Vickie Carmichael cackles behind her, at their home in Salt Lake City.

“The thing about Steve is… well… he’s never found a good way of coping with himself,” Robin huffs. “Music was about as close as he ever got. But in those early days, he just kept looking for more and more.”

“You don’t think it was about-” Vickie asked, just barely into the phone.

“No.”

“It was about Nancy,” Eddie said confidently when I mentioned their first tour. “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy.”

The Boys got their start in the late sixties, beginning with Eddie and Steve. Eddie gave Steve guitar lessons, which turned into some talent show performances. They used to practice at Eddie’s Uncle’s trailer.

“That’s where we got the name,” Eddie nodded, “My uncle used to just call us that, and it stuck.”

“I don’t even remember,” Chrissy said.

“That’s not how we got the name,” Steve shook his head, when I mention Eddie. “It was our first gig, after we got Chrissy and Robin. Robin put it down after the headliner kept asking when ‘you boys’ would go on, and kept addressing it to Chrissy’s chest. She blew him out of the fucking water.”

Nancy Wheeler was there that night, writing about local bands for a tiny column in the school paper.

“She was beautiful. Smart. So smart. Could hear her talk forever,” Steve said, eyes falling.

Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were married in 1972 after they graduated high school.

“Steve made his own choices,” Chrissy shook her head.

That summer, the Boys plus one drove to LA and Nancy Wheeler took a job at Women’s Day Magazine and later, Rolling Stone. Steve Harrington and The Boys got a “steady gig” at La Bonita Rosa on the strip, playing for drunks every night from seven to eight.

“I really liked playing at La Bonita,” Steve said. “The audience, right there. You could smell the sweat. You could see on their faces if you were bombing. And we used to bomb. A lot. But it was a great place to try things. Experiment. We played there for about a year but… it felt too short.”

Within the year they had met Jim Hopper, who got them into the recording studio and sold their demo nearly on the spot to Upside Down Records.

“They had a great sound. They had got this way of playing. Smooth like a polished stone. Everything sounds good sitting in a frame like that,” Jim said in an interview with Rolling Stone in 1981. “Their songs were… catchy, but basic. But they had the sound.”

Upside Down records set the Boys on a US tour after “Paper Girl,” and “Joy to Love You,” both charted.

“It was like… overnight. One day we’re in a studio, messing around. Kid stuff. I was nineteen,” Steve Harrington shookhis head. “But…”

“That tour,” Chrissy trails off, playing with her ring again.

“I…” Steve Harrington scratched his nose. “I was losing it. Majorly losing it. It felt like we had just moved to LA and we were already neck deep. I mean, I had a number one fucking song. And for some reason I got it in my head to call my mom. She told the maid she wasn’t home. And I could hear her over the phone. My mom. So yeah. I lost it. Lost about half my damn mind on that tour. And people will say it was because of Nancy, because we got married just out of high school, and she wasn’t supportive… but that wasn’t true. Nancy saved me.”

“Nancy never wanted him to be in the band. But… she also didn’t seem to care that much either,” Eddie shook his head, “It’s… complicated. Love is supposed to be. Simple. Like the chords of a song. 1-3-5.”

Jason Carver rolled his eyes at that, “Then what are we?”

Eddie grinned, “We’re a band.”

Nancy Wheeler met me on a Thursday in New York City, slim sunglasses dominating her small porcelain face. We get lunch at her favorite deli shop, and she perches at the counter, loafers dangling. She’s an editor at The New Yorker now, but she still has a soft spot for rock and roll, as evidenced by the Grateful Dead t-shirt under her blazer.

“That tour. I didn’t even know anything was wrong. He just came home with a funny look on his face, saying, ‘We’re headlining.’ So I said, ‘That’s great, Steve.’ He just kept… saying it. It was starting to piss me off, if I’m being honest,” She shook her head. “I should have known something was wrong.”

“I wish she had stopped me. But how could you know right? Hindsight is always 2020,” Steve Harrington said. “I mean, she was my wife. How could she not want me home? But that’s just… sorry. That’s not fair to put on her. I chose to go.”

“I flew out to meet them when they were in Indianapolis, visited my family, and I came a day early to see him,” She smiled warmly, and then it fell. “He was… Well, first, Eddie Munson tried to intercept me at the hotel, so I wouldn’t see him. I told him, ‘I’m here to see my fucking husband.’”

Steve Harrington didn’t add any more details about the tour, just shrugged when I asked.

“He was coked up like you wouldn’t believe,” Robin scoffed. “She walked in on him with two girls and coke all over his… well.”

“I just asked him. Do you want to come home? Do you want to get help? Or not?” She purses her lips. “And so he came home and we found a rehab place near Hawkins.”

“The tour kind of… fell apart. Obviously. We had lost our lead singer and guitarist to fucking… Hawkins, Indiana,” 

Everything stopped for the Boys. Upside Down offered to let them out of their two album contract, but Steve couldn’t afford to pay it down.

“Rehab,” He shrugged. “Is expensive.”

Right as it seemed that everything would be over for the Boys, things were looking up for Billy Blue.

“Jim was always saying, ‘the record is selling alright, the songs are getting there but he needs a… push,’” Joyce said. “‘He’s so close. So close. He’s a star.’”

“He always believed in me,” Billy smiled, toying with his ring again. “Always. Even when I threw a jug of milk at his head.”

Joyce laughed when I asked about that moment, “He came home saying, ‘He milked me, Joyce. But he’ll fix the song tonight.’”

“And I did,” Billy said. “And the album was going alright. I did a little tour, socal and the southwest. And then one night, Jim brings me this song. He said, ‘I want you to tell me what’s missing from this.’”

The song was, of course, the Boys’ biggest hit, “Hades.” Steve Harrington’s first version was called, “To Orpheus” and the chorus goes:

Don’t turn back don’t look behind you baby

I’m close, I’m right behind

The future's so bright, and I want you to take me

Wanna be holding your hand when I make it across the line.

“It was fine, but just kind of… nothing. It was supposed to be about Eurydice, but it was so… nothing. She just loved Orpheus and that was it. There were no insides to her. She was going to follow him to her doom,” Billy shook his head. “That’s not right.”

This was not the version that made it to the recording booth, of course. The Boys’ single, “Hades featuring Billy Blue,” came out in 1975. The actual chorus goes: 

Turn back on me and I won’t forgive you baby

Don’t want you to see me like this

Up ahead is bright, and I want you to take me

If you’re strong enough to cross that finish line

“‘Hades,’ was a real step forward for the Boys. Gone were the teenybopper tunes,” Steve Harrington’s biographer and personal friend Dustin Henderson wrote in his book The Pretty Boy. “Their first album got the kids dancing. But the second proved that they actually had something to say.”

“Still hate it,” Steve Harrington said. “I wrote that song in rehab. It was deeply, deeply personal to me.”

“He came out, all ready. He wanted to start recording right away,” Robin sighed. “Like I mean the next day. All these songs, just pouring out of him. But the label had lost faith in us. And they certainly weren’t going to let us start recording with a guy who had only just earned his thirty day sober chip.”

“The song wasn’t ready,” Billy shook his head. “But I guess he was. Jim said he needed this. So Jim asked if I would come and like… pitch some stuff as a personal favor. Songwriting credit, that’s all it was supposed to be. Get the songs moving, get them going.”

Steve Harrington takes a long time to continue speaking about it. 

“I felt it, writing for that album. I felt proud of those songs. They didn’t belong to anyone else but me,” He toyed with some piano keys while we talked, and then finally sat down and began to play something tuneless and half formed.

“That album was all about Nancy,” Chrissy said. “I mean. I know it. You know it. Nancy knew it. And she kind of hated it. But-”

“You can’t leave your husband right as he gets out of rehab,” Nancy said to me, toying with her wedding ring. “When he writes all these songs about how you’re the only thing… Steve was always like that. Heart wide open. That’s why when he met Billy. I almost thought… it would all be okay. That sounds fucked up but. I thought they could save each other. That the music could save him.”

“It was just a songwriting credit,” Billy raised his hands. “Jim swore up and down. I was just gonna come in there and sit down with this guy Steve. But when I walk into the studio, there’s two mics set up.”

“I was the Boys’ only singer,” Steve Harrington shook his head. “And to be absolutely honest, I was kind of a jackass about it. So to have some guy come in and say he’s gonna sing me my song… well…”

“Steve was the only one who would ever argue with Jim, And he let him have it that day,” Eddie laughed. “He called him the most low down, dirty, rat bitten bastard in California, and that he would die rather than give up his band to someone else.”

“I did not want his band. I did not know his band. And I did not care. And his song sucked. And I told him so. And then I sang it. Better.” Billy smiled.

“Billy was…” Chrissy shook her head. “Incredible.”

I ask Steve what Billy was like that first day in the studio.

“He was,” Something passed over his face. “Alright. He has a great voice, alright.”

“I was good. Better. Best.” Billy smiled.

“But he didn’t understand the song. He wanted Eurydice to… doubt. To think she wasn’t going to get out,” Steve slammed his hands on the keys. “It’s been… almost twenty years. I still don’t understand it.”

I asked why he let Billy stay. But Steve doesn’t have an answer.

“They were like oil and water, right away,” Chrissy said.

“Yeah, but oil on the water can catch fire,” Eddie shrugged.

“Jim asked me to stay,” Billy looked away from me, down at his waffles. “It was a favor to the label.”

“If Billy said louder, Steve said mute,” Robin snickered. “It was kind of great, actually. Finally someone called King Steve on his shit. One day I came in and they were arguing over how close the microphone should be to your throat. Almost got in a physical fight over a fucking microphone. I mean, I love Steve. But he always thinks he’s like… the babysitter. It’s his job to do everything for everybody.”

“Like who was this guy? Really? He came into my studio with no shirt on, most of the time still half smashed from the night before, and he thinks he can make all these changes. But Jim keeps telling me it’s just business, the label thinks it’s good business.” Steve frowned, and then smiled, and then frowned again.

“Yeah, I never wore shirts back then. Or underwear,” Billy said with a grin. “I was a rockstar!”

“Steve fought for every song on that album,” Nancy Wheeler patted her lips primly with a napkin. “He only lost on one.”

“Billy Hargove has songwriting credit and lead vocals on “Hades.” Dustin Henderson wrote.

“Billy was all over that album. He’d make some minor suggestion, maybe this chord instead of that, this word is better. And Steve would flip out, yell at him, yell at Jim, threaten to storm out… and then two days later quietly tell me to change the chord, he’d start singing the new words. Billy was there with us about every single day,” Eddie said.

“Of course, it was our biggest hit,” Chrissy laughed. “Everything but that song, Steve did what he wanted. Oh we had Billy in the studio, making suggestions. But Steve did what he wanted except for ‘Hades.’ Jim said that song is the album, and he wouldn’t cut it.”

“Jim was always right,” Steve closed the piano. “The bastard.”

Hades exploded onto the radio in late 1975. They didn’t have the same distribution as their first record, but the Boys had another hit.

“Billy had this way of singing it. Still does. He broke four mics when we recorded it. Singing so loud I had to keep an eye on the cymbals to stop them from shaking. You can feel him, right in your chest.” Chrissy giggled. “Like he was trying to wake all the dead from Hades. If anyone could, he could.”

“It’s a really, really great song,” Robin said.

This song belongs to Billy Blue, Rolling Stone wrote in 1976. The only question now is, what will The Boys do next?

“I remember that article. Fucking… Harrington said that he basically wrote the whole song. But he said, ‘the label thought bringing Billy in was a good idea,’” Billy gets tense for the first time. “I’m not saying I was like… I just mean. It would have been nice. To treat me like an equal. I’m more than just a singer. I’m not just… a piece of meat.”

“Billy was really pissed about that article. I remember, the day after the article came out, we were getting breakfast at this tiny place off La Cienega. Steve had this car back then, a big maroon BMW, and Eddie had got him a vanity plate when he bought it. Stupid thing it said, ‘BIGBOY.’ Anyway, We’re having breakfast, and we hear this screech outside, like an accident,” Robin Buckley gets uncharacteristically quiet as she goes on through this story. “Billy’s car is parked halfway out of the parking lot, and he comes in like a bull in a charge. Billy… he wasn’t some wimpy guy. He was small, but he was strong as hell… He came right over and grabbed Steve by his collar and lifted him right off the counter. And he said, I’ll never forget it because Steve used to recite it from memory, yell it at me, ‘Tell me I’m not dreaming. Is that Steve fucking Harrington? The lead singer of the Boys. Hey man, I love your song ‘Hades.’ How’d you get your voice to sound halfway decent for once?’”

“I don’t remember that,” Steve Harrington said flatly when I asked.

“And Steve used to be a fucking dick in high school. So he starts getting real bitchy, shoving Billy off him, asking what his problem is, why he’s such a dick all the fucking time, when it’s not even his band. And Billy said something like, ‘No one wants your shit band. Not with you in it,’” Robin paused for a moment. “And they just. Stare at each other. Like… daring each other to do something.”

Billy just shrugs when I ask, “I was pissed. I gave this guy a number one hit, and he still wanted to treat me like some… airhead singer the label brought in as a stunt. I’m not just a singer. I’m not a piece of meat. I’m a person.”

When I ask Steve about that day he’s pretty quiet, deflated at his piano. He only wants to talk about the song. The music. Can’t seem to talk about Billy any other way.

“He sang it like he not only knows Orpheus can’t save him, but that he won’t. It was supposed to be hopeful. A happy ending.” Steve said.

“So you still hate the song?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. It’s brilliant. And that’s the whole problem.”

To be continued...

Next up is Half-Oz-Eddie's piece at 7:00 pm. GET HYPE!

[small-sinclair]

Musical Muse

Vincent Sinclair x reader

House of Wax Slasher band!au

Tw: Vincent was in a fire (he’s okay), some hints at sex but nothing graphic described, let me know if I missed anything!

A gift for @im-his-druidess and au by @arkunder

It was Vincent’s first night home for a 7-month-tour around North America. Late night FaceTime calls, texts messages, postcards, poems— it was good to see him home. The penciled in a two-week break for Lester’s doctor appointments and for a mental break. It was good to rest and sleep in for a moment. All three of them needed to recover from the accident—

He takes a deep breath and let it out slowly. He won’t dwell on it. Not now at least. Lester is safe and Bo’s hands were healing. That’s all that matters now.

Vincent tried to be quiet when he entered. He hung his base on the hook and stopped to look at the photos of you both. One of you two in the studio, another in a band shirt, and a lovely one of you and him at the alter, saying your vows.

As soon as he heard your footsteps flying down the steps, he felt his heart pull. “You’re home!” You shouted smiling, leaping up.

He threw his duffel bag on the floor in the doorway just in time to catch you. He spun you around in the air, smiling under his half wooden-plated mask. He blushes as your kisses littered his half-shown face.

“I missed you!” You yelled, giggling as he lowered you back to the floor. He rests his forehead against yours and held your hips just memorize you once more. “I really missed you, Vincent.” You lift your hands and hold his face. “You were gone forever.”

He nods in agreement. He didn’t want to sign anything, not just yet. Vincent didn’t want this moment to be over. Having you back made his unwritten melodies complete and he could hear notes play as he takes you in. You are his muse for most songs after all.

He took your hand and guided it to his mask, gesturing to you to take it off. Your feather-like hands took off his mask slowly and he closed his eyes, shivering at the cool air. His mask hung in your hand, and you smiled when you saw his face. He’s just as beautiful as the day he left you. Your free hand held his scarred cheek, his head leaning into your touch, while your eyes tracing every bit of him. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, your hand, then ending with your lips. He pulled away before holding you close to deepen his kiss.

He has time to make up. Seven whole months without your touch, your embrace… he is a sinner. Your sinner. His deity. He has to find forgiveness.

With ease, he lifts you up, carries you with his arms under your legs, and heads for the bedroom down the hall.

~~~~~~

As you slept on his chest, Vincent held up his song book, writing silently, as a watched eye on you. Your shoulders were bruised with his love and affection like his. He only wanted to be closer to you and more. What praise can he give but love for you?

A song will do.

A song just for you so others can sing praises of you, be followers of you, but none will ever be as faithful and loyal as him.

He hummed the chorus one more time before closing his book just in time for you to wake up. He sat his book aside and laid flat on his back. You nuzzled into his neck and left a small kiss over his adam’s apple. A relaxed sigh escaped his throat as he threw his head to the side.

“Did you miss me?”

He nods, tracing his answer in your skin, ‘Yes.’

“Bed was too cold while you were gone,” you noted, his thumb gently making circles in your back. “But sleeping in your shirt’s comforted me.” You drew a heart in the center of his chest. “I took care of the plants, too. The cactus gave birth so there’s baby cactuses. Guess that makes us grandparents or something.”

He smirks and chuckles.

Silence was warm and comfortable between you two. The soft thumping of his heartbeat made house feel like home again. “…I really missed you,” you murmured. You felt Vincent’s lips in your hair as he pulled you closer to him. In a way, that was him showing that he’s here and you’re safe. “For a while, I went crazy thinking you weren’t coming home. I saw the fire at that wax museum you and your brothers were playing, the wax falling Lester’s back, and they got a video of your mask melting…” your voice trailed as he stiffened at the memory.

If the silence is too loud, he can still hear his baby brother’s voice screaming in pain and agony. Bo and he made dirt out of the inferno, but Lester was trapped, scared and alone. He remember he took off his mask before running back on Bo’s heels; his mask felt too heavy to wear that night. He still sees how bright the orange and yellow flames were as Bo moved wood and metal off his back. He ended up burning some spots on his hands but he doesn’t care. He was just as desperate as Vincent to get their brother out. Each twin took an arm and raced out with him before the museum’s gas could explode. Bo and he cradled their brother then paramedics rushed to his side and took him to the hospital.

He remembered how the world of heavy rock and metal was quiet for the night.

That’s why Bo canceled two weeks of interviews that night, 16 days ago, so they can recover from everything.

He gripped your body tighter and held you closer. You figured he must’ve been scared because he didn’t give you room to wiggle or move. Your hands held his arms and closed your eyes. “I’m happy you’re okay and safe. I’m happy and thankful.”

Vincent made a soft noise, agreeing with you.

“Just want to stay like this and cuddle,” you said, not asking. Luckily he nods in agreement, lifting the blanket up higher over your shoulders.

He didn’t want anything else but this. Vincent wanted you in his arms, in his heart, engraved into his mind. He’ll finish the song and draw a picture of you to put up in the bus. For now, he’ll focus on you and the reality of this feeling.

The sunset over the town like a dream.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

it's finally here! one month late, and a couple thousand words more than i thought it'd be! happy leap yeap!

Here's my entry for Lex's (@thefreakandthehair) Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge! I had dialogue prompt #22 "Guess we’re the only two without dates, huh?”

pairing: steddie | word count: 10,446 | rated: E | on AO3: hey you really turn me on

Why in the hell did he agree to this? It’s 20 fuckin’ degrees out and he’s outside?? In the snow?? Voluntarily?

If the boys could see him now.. “Who are you and what’ve you done with Eddie?”, “Since when do you do shit outside?”, “All this for Steve fuckin’ Harrington…”.

And that’s the rub, it is because of Steve. Hopeless crush aside, Steve is the reason he’s there. Why they’re all there in the first place.

When Steve got the call, Eddie and the other older teens of their world-saving group were just hanging out; movies, beer, snacks, a little weed, music playing low…all in all, a great kick-back. 

Then the phone rang.

It was relatively late too, 10 maybe?

Steve went to answer it of course, the conversation muffled through the living room and kitchen walls, but after a minute or so he came back. The long phone line stretched across the hall back to the hook in the kitchen.

“When is this again?” Steve says into the receiver, waving towards the sound system. Robin had scrambled up immediately, nearly falling back on her face to turn the volume down.

“Uh huh. And you and Dad won’t be there? Mm hmm.” he nods.

Eddie looked over to Robin first, eyebrow raised. She only shrugged, as does Nancy when he turned the look to her.

“And how many rooms?” Whatever the answer is causes Steve’s brows to shoot up. “Wow, okay, yeah we–” 

Eddie was closest to him, previously starfished out on the carpet, but had sat up and leaned back on his palms when Steve returned, so he could just barely hear the sound of another voice on the other end of the line.

“Yeah of course, that’d be great, we definitely will. Thanks Mom.”

Steve had sounded actually…happy to be talking to his mom. And here Eddie thought the Harringtons were objectively the worst.

“No, they’re going to love it, Mom, I promise.” another pause, “Nope. They’ll all be on their best behavior.” Steve glances down at Eddie, “We all will be.”

He scoffs up at Steve from his spot on the floor. Rude.

Steve only waves him off with a smile, “Yeah, the usual.” he says, “Rob, Nance, Jon, Jon’s friend Argyle–yeah, he’s the one from California, and Eddie.” Steve’s eyes flash down to Eddie again and his stomach twists sharply. Aw fuck, here it comes; the scolding, the yelling, the berating about how Eddie’s no good for him to be associating with, why are you stooping to his level, he’s a murderer, yadda yadda yadda.

“Yeah, he and Wayne are doin’ much better now, I’ll have to tell you about it next time, okay?” 

Uh.

What?

“Yeah, that’d be great if you don’t mind! Yep, Wheeler, Henderson, Sinclair,” He looks again at the other people in the room, they’re still just as puzzled as he is. What do the kids have to do with this? “I’ll talk to Hopper and Joyce, and I’m sure Ms. Mayfield would let Max go. Oh absolutely,”

Steve starts back into the kitchen, and Eddie can hear him all the way back to the hook. “No–Nope, it’s fine, I actually have a couple people over right now so I want to–yeah. Yep. Okay, love you too. Bye mom.”

Eddie looks around at the others; Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, even Argyle, though he’s not looking around wide-eyed at what all just occurred like the others are.

Steve comes back into the living room. “So…” he lets out a long breath, “How do you all feel about skiing?”

-x-X-x-

So yeah. Here they all are, at some ski resort up in Michigan. Boyd Mountain…or Bowie? Something with a ‘B’.

Turns out, Steve’s parents had a four-room cabin rental set aside as a perk for some deal they were trying to barter. It fell through though, and they wouldn’t be back from Colorado themselves until after the reservation would’ve expired so they offered it to Steve and whoever he’d like to invite.

They took care of everything too; got lift passes, boot and ski rentals set aside for each of them, even sent a whole ass passenger van to be dropped off in the Harrington driveway for them to make the drive; A huge 15 passenger one that even with the three extra seats, still barely held all their crap for the long weekend.

All of them piled into the van in the dark on a Friday morning, sleepy-faced and crusty-eyed; Robin as Steve’s co-pilot, and each of the rest of the older teens and the party piling in wherever they could (they’d fight about their seats when they woke up more, Eddie was sure of it).

The first rest stop on the way up went by without incident, but by time they stopped for late breakfast/early lunch at another, everyone was stir crazy. Sandwiches were passed out, gas was gotten, bathroom breaks were taken, and almost as soon as they got back in the van, Robin was snoring.

“Damnit, if I knew she was gonna tank like that I would’ve had someone else sit up here.” Steve had groused. 

“I’ve gotcha big guy, I won’t let you fall asleep.” Eddie said, now seated next to Dustin and El on the first bench behind the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, me either.” Dustin agreed.

He was snoring an hour later, El leaning into him for her own nap.

“That’s cute.” Was the first thing Robin said after waking back up.

All in all, not a bad drive. The worst part was tramping through the snow to the cabin after they’d arrived.

“Goddammit Steve, How am I supposed to get through this week in only my jeans?”

Steve sighs, “Eddie, you have made the same argument ever since my mom called; and every time you did, I told you everything would be here for you.”

He finally gets the door open, shoving it wide for them all and gesturing them in, “Get comfy guys, I’m going to grab the cooler with our groceries.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Jonathan says, following Steve back out to the van.

The large open main floor has a full kitchen with a raised bar counter and four stools, tall peaked ceilings, a fireplace on one wall with two couches and a rocking chair situated around it, and a sliding glass door to a balcony off the back side of the building overlooking the trees below.

There’s stairs too, a set going up and a set going down, and at least one bathroom here on this floor, off the kitchen.

Eddie wanders into the living room, picks out some pieces of kindling from the bucket on the stone beside the fireplace and a couple logs from the stack nearby, and busies himself with starting the fire while the party pokes around the place.

He glances over his shoulder when he hears the fake leather of the couch cushions squeak together, only to see Argyle has perched himself on the backrest, squashing a cushion beneath his feet.

The fire takes less than no time at all, and once it’s going and he’s re-situated the trifold metal screen back in front of the fire, he sits down beside Argyle’s shins and is immediately entranced by the flames.

Steve and Jonathan return not long after, lugging their things with the cooler hanging between them.

“So how do y’guys want to split up the rooms?” Robin asks aloud, ignoring the yelling the other teens are already doing about the same thing.

“I’m not picky.” Eddie shrugs, standing up to stretch again, deciding he really did not want to be sitting anymore.

“Me either sister, whatever you decide is cool with me.” Argyle agrees. “What’re the rooms like?”

“There’s a master up here!” Max calls from above them, looming over the log railing at the top of the stairs with El.

“We walked right past it, but there’s a room with a queen off the front hall there,” Jonathan says, shuffling his bag against the kitchen bar.

“Hey! Assholes!” Steve yells down the steps, the boys must’ve gone down there. “Go get your shit out of the van and we’ll head over to the main lodge!”

The four thunder up the steps, how any of them can understand any other over the other is beyond him.

“Will,” Nancy calls as he rounds the stairs last, “There are bedrooms down there?”

“Yep!” he grins, “Two rooms with queen beds, and a bathroom.”

“I don’t mind taking one of the queens,” Nancy says, “Robin, wanna share with me?”

Robin starts to splutter, still somehow not convinced that Nancy’s got a thing for her. It’s obvious to him, but he and Steve have both tried to tell her this. To no avail. Even after Jonathan and her had confirmed they’d split and that he was moving back to California with Argyle come spring.

Steve rescues Robin from her spluttering. “It’s only fair that Argyle gets next dibs, since he’s the one that’s offered to cook for us.” he says, lugging the cooler over to the kitchen to unload it.

He’d insisted on picking up groceries for their stay, saying “There’s a restaurant, sure, but that’d get expensive quick and we’ll have a full kitchen so why not?”

“Appreciated my man; y’wanna bunk with me, Jonny?”

Eddie follows Steve, leaning on the bar across from the fridge from him, “So where’s all my snow gear, Stevie?” he asks the back of Steve’s head.

“Eddie, I swear to God.” Steve huffs in return, bending down into the cooler at his feet to fish out a couple of cartons of eggs.

Eddie does not watch how the denim of Steve’s jeans pulls tighter over any part of him, thank you very much.

“Mom called ahead and has everything we might need set aside in the main lodge, we’ll go there first before we hit the slopes.”

“Oh my god, did you really just say that?” Eddie asks as Steve stashes away two jars of jelly, one strawberry, one grape.

“Say what?” Bacon and some packs of lunch meat are next.

“Like, that’s an actual thing that people say? It’s not just in the movies?”

Steve sighs, finishing off the groceries with a couple 12 packs of pop stashed on the bottom shelf. “What is just like the movies?”

“‘Hit the slopes.’? Really?”

“You’re super annoying, you know that, right?” he says, closing the fridge and pushing the lid back onto their cooler.

“Awe, c’mon baby, you don’t mean that.” Eddie coos, slipping around the counter to cup Steve’s face in his hands, “What happened to the man who loves me for my antics, huh?”

“Get off me, dude,” Steve laughs, batting Eddie’s hands away, his cheeks tinged pink.

‘Yes! Success!’ When did he decide he was trying to fluster Steve? Eh, whatever. No harm, right?

 “So, did you guys figure out the sleeping situation?” Steve asks the rest of the group, walking back around the bar.

Eddie follows, leaning back on the counter in his previously vacated spot.

Nancy nods, “Jon and Argyle will take the room on the main floor, us girls will take the two downstairs, you can take the master, and the boys will take the couches.”

The boys return with their bags then, and Mike immediately starts complaining about being relegated to the fold-outs. Eddie also hears Dustin and Lucas trying to talk him down, saying things like “Dude, that means we’ll be close to the fire!”, “We can throw things in it!,” and “We can make s’mores!”.

Steve doesn’t seem to hear them though, otherwise he’d be shutting that shit down. Instead, his face only scrunches in confusion, “What about Eddie?”

Nancy looks surprised for a blink, then disgruntled, like she’s pissed she forgot someone.

“I’ll just crash out here on the floor with these losers, no worries.” he shrugs.

Steve turns toward his voice, a deep crease between his brows. “That’s not fair.”

“I promise I’ll survive Stevie,” Eddie chuckles. At least he’ll be the warmest out here in front of the fireplace. “I’ve slept on worse, believe it or not, I’ll be sleeping like a king compared to then.”

Steve’s brows scrunch almost all the way together, then spring apart and settle into determined lines. “You’ll sleep with me.” he says with a nod, his arms folding across his chest.

A beat passes.

Eddie can’t resist.

He leans close to Steve’s side, “A bit presumptuous, Stevie darling,”

Steve’s face practically glows with the flush that appears in the next beat, mumbling something to himself as he walks to the door and starts to pull on his coat and boots.

Eddie pushes off the counter and follows, obnoxiously holding a hand up to one ear. “What’s that, sweetheart?” he teases, walking to his own tossed-aside boots, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“We going to the lodge now?” he hears Lucas ask as he passes.

“Finally.” Mike adds, unhelpfully.

Steve huffs, standing up again and leaning close to Eddie’s cupped hand, “As if you hadn’t thought about it, darling.”

Four of the other ten are in their coats and boots and out the door after Steve before Eddie comes back online.

-x-X-x-

So here he is: outside. In the snow. With skis strapped to his feet. All because of Steve and his surprisingly generous parents.

He watches, amused, as Robin stands as still as she possibly can, arms spread wide, while Nancy helps strap her into her skis. As soon as the skis had gotten remotely close to being attached to her, it was discovered that no matter what section of ground they may be standing on, Robin would start to drift away. Sliding down some sort of unseen incline backwards, frontwards, and/or sideways.

Jon and Argyle are already almost to the closest lift, and Eddie watches as they do a weird half-jump onto the bench as it comes up behind them.

The gremlins had scattered after Steve’s ‘be careful’ lecture, telling them all when to be back to the van by, or back to the cabin if they will be coming off the slopes near there, telling them all to be safe and to keep to pairs or more so they can be radioed.

They’d all brought their walkies with them, and Eddie can see where the boys are still huddled together, swapping out their batteries.

He watches them split off soon after, Dustin and Lucas pushing off to where Max and El are waiting at the standing lift to the top of the training hill.

Mike and Will scoot off together in the opposite direction, toward the centermost lift a few dozen yards away.

“Guess we’re the only two without dates, huh?” He says as Steve slides to a stop on his own skis beside him.

He’d meant it jokingly, was probably going to follow it up with some jabs about being Steve’s wingman if he needed (there were already a few ladies he’d seen giving Steve some looks while they waited for their gear in the main lodge), but Steve shrugs and says: “I’ll be your date this weekend, Eds. Wouldn’t want you to feel left out or anything.” 

Eddie whips his head around to look at him, “That’s not–” he starts, but cuts himself off at the look Steve is giving him. His goggles have been haphazardly pushed up his face, trapping a few loose locks of Steve’s hair between them and the roll of his beanie, his cheeks are already bitten red with the cold, and he’s smiling so painfully sincerely under that damn teasing smirk that all Eddie can do is acquiesce.

“You better be the best date here then, Stevie,” Eddie chides, starting off toward the lift Jonathan and Argyle had disappeared up, “I won’t settle for anyone other than the bes–” he pitches forward suddenly, one of his skis sticking to the snow under it more than it should’ve.

Steve catches him, of course, and says “Will I get points taken off as ‘Best Date Ever’ if I make you go on the training hill?”

They do go to the training hill, lovingly called the Bunny Hopper, but he and Robin are thankfully saved from the embarrassment of actually being taught by the volunteers there; Steve and Nancy taking them to the slightly taller ‘big kid’ hill and teaching them there.

Surprising even himself, Eddie picks up on the motions and the feeling of being on skis easily. The whole ‘pizza’ thing about stopping was still iffy but the rest is no problem. Fun, actually.

“That was great, man! You’re a natural!” Steve beams at him, his grin lopsided from the meat of his cheeks being squashed under his goggles.

“I just had a great teacher,” he brushes off the compliment, elbowing Steve playfully.

Steve somehow grins even bigger, and Eddie’s heart stammers.

“You ready to go to the real hill now?” “This isn’t a real hill?”

He’s positive Steve just rolled his eyes under his goggles. “C’mon smartass, let's get in line for the lift.”

Eddie bows him forward, “After you, sweetheart.” 

He follows Steve to the end of the line; thankfully it’s not too long, now that it’s late afternoon and will be getting dark soon. 

Steve seems to notice this as well, lifting his goggles off his face again. “We’ll have to call the gremlins back sooner than I thought. It’ll be dark soon.”

“Stop reading my mind, Stevie.”

Steve looks over at him, squinting hard and pursing his lips (Eddie’s stupid lizard brain has a split second thought of those lips pursed around something). “Ugh! Ew, gross Eddie, what would make you think about that?!”

He feels his face blanche and scrambles to recover. “I was only thinking about our good friend Robin, Steve-o, you saying Robin is gross?” He pitches his voice higher and glances down the line to where he can see Robin and Nancy.

Robin flips her mitten up at him, and he can infer the gesture just fine, thanks.

“Shut up, asshole.” Steve laughs, pushing him out of the line on his skis.

They’re the next to hop up on the moving bench, and Steve’s…everything…seems to seize up as soon as they’re seated and on their way.

“Could you imagine?”

“Hm?” He’s still looking down anxiously, so Eddie scoots just a bit closer, pressing what he hopes is comfortingly into Steve’s side.

“If we could read each other's minds? If the bats biting us both somehow linked us together?”

It works a little; Steve tears his eyes away from the ground as it drops away from them, huffing out a short laugh, “I don’t think I would survive inside your head, it’d be even more chaotic than you already are.”

“As if your head would be any better.”

“Hey, my head is great!”

Eddie grins wickedly, “You get told that a lot, Stevie?”

Steve seems unphased, smirking slowly. “I do, actually. Why? You tryin’ t’see if it’s true?”

His cheeks start to prickle, “You offering, big boy?”

“Maybe I am,” Steve shrugs then leans closer, “Now the real question is if you’re gonna take me up on it.”

Eddie’s head reels in the couple seconds he takes to respond.

Where in the hell is all this coming from? Is it just part of the ‘date’ thing? There’s no fuckin’ way Steve is actually into him, is there? He’s always been flirty, just like Eddie is himself, but there’s no way there are any actual feelings behind it… So there’s no harm in playing along.

“I’m gonna have to now, aren’t I?” he grins back, “Gotta see if it lives up to the hype.”

Steve smirks, his eyes hooded. He’s good at pretending, he’ll give him that.

His eyes glance away, then back to Eddie’s face. The sultry look he’d been hamming up for his sake is gone, just an easy smile remains. At least this sudden flirting Steve’s decided to do isn’t going to ruin their surprisingly solid post-apocalyptic friendship.

“It’s almost time to get off, ready?”

Eddie looks ahead to where the couple on the bench before them are hopping off. They stand up off the lift easily and don’t end up in a heap, but he is starting to feel the anxiety Steve was feeling only minutes ago. How’s he supposed to get out of the way fast enough, isn’t there a drop? That looked way too easy.

“As I’ll ever be,” he gulps.

“Give me your hand.” Steve says, not waiting for a response and snatching up Eddie’s hand in his, “Okay, when I say so, you just gotta stand up. Ready?”

“Stand up, what do you mea—” he feels his legs lift a bit as the ground rises to coast under his skis, and it makes sense.

“Now!”

Wait, no! He wasn’t ready!

He stands just a breath after Steve, but isn’t fast enough, the lift continues up on its path and catches him again, forcing his butt back into the seat.

“Eddie, you gotta–”

He tries again at the same time Steve pulls him forward and he pitches forward, landing with an “Oof–” on top of Steve and forcing the breath from the other man’s lungs.

“Aw fuck, sorry Stevie!” He rolls off of him and out of the path of the upcoming lift chairs. “That went exactly as well as I thought it would.”

Steve wheezes out a breathless laugh, standing back up on his skis with no problem at all. Wait, how did he do that? How’s he supposed to get up with these things on his feet?

“Here,” Steve arranges his skis for him, putting one long side of each onto the snow, “Give me your poles, and push yourself up with your hands. You want to get your feet under you.”

He does as he’s told and walks his weight around on his hands to the fronts of his skis until he’s bent forward at his hips, standing straight out of the bend.

“...Huh.”

“Good job, man!” Steve grins, handing him back his poles, “Getting up on skis can be a bitch and a half; way to catch on quick.”

Eddie grins mischievously, deciding to be a little shit. “I dunno, you’d think my date would like seeing me bent over for him, huh Stevie?”

Steve just rolls his eyes, snapping his goggles back down with a smile, “C’mon, asshole, let’s get out of the way; the run to the right of the lift looked shorter on the map.”

Thankfully, the chair behind them had been empty, but the next one had a full four people on it and it was coming up fast.

“‘Sides,” He says, pushing off toward the top of the run, waiting for Eddie to scoot in next to him at the crest before leaning in and murmuring low into his ear, “I’d rather wait ‘till we’re alone to bend you over properly.”

Steve’s a good 20 feet away by time Eddie comes back to himself enough to follow.

They get about an hour and a half in on the hills, a grand total of six wipeouts under Eddie’s belt, and a couple others under Steve’s, with one successful landing off one of the jumps on the main drag to finish off the day.

“Didja see that?!” Steve yells, pulling down the balaclava he’d unceremoniously added to his getup about an hour ago.

“Hell yes Stevie!” Eddie calls, breathless, still coasting to the bottom of the slope after him. “You landed it!”

“I landed it!” 

Steve holds his arms open as Eddie once again fails to slow himself down properly, and catches him at the bottom in a crushing hug. His cheeks are flushed with adrenaline, bitten with the cold, his eyes bright in the setting sun and smile nearly as beautiful.

Damn he’s pretty.

Courteous as ever, Steve waits until Eddie’s arranged his feet the right way again before letting him go to spin the pack off his back for their assigned walkie.

Steve radios the party, and everyone is packed away in their van a scant ten minutes later. The older teens had already made it back to the cabin, letting themselves in off a run near there, so it was only the similarly flushed and excitement-filled younger teens babbling away in the back seats.

There’s overlapping stories of their own wipeouts (including one Robin took that Max swears was hilarious), Dustin insisting he saw a brown bear through the trees at one point, and all six debating whether or not they’d want to go to the main lodge for the waterpark tomorrow instead of back onto the hills.

They are still debating amongst themselves when they pull into the driveway. “Alright dorks,” Steve calls over the bickering, “Go inside and hang up your shit next to the fireplace so it can dry out.”

Eddie follows the troop into the living room and watches them pile all their outerwear together on the two hooks closest to the stone fireplace, then tear off downstairs where he heard there may have been a Nintendo stashed in one of the bedroom dressers.

Jonathan and Robin start methodically re-arranging the coats and snow pants on the hooks so they’ll dry easier, while Argyle pushes up off one of the couches to start on dinner. 

“C’mon Eds, get comfy,” Steve says, coming up beside him and gesturing to the loveseat directly across from the roaring fire. Eddie can already feel the burn of it across his frigid skin, “I gotta make sure I get you unthawed before I get you into my bed.” Steve murmurs into Eddie’s ear.

And isn’t that a whole new type of torment. They will actually be sleeping in the same bed tonight…the next three nights!

Steve turns back to the kitchen when Eddie drops cross-legged onto the sofa, and the tingling feeling in his cheeks has nothing to do with the fire.

It’s half from Steve’s scarily earnest-sounding flirting, but also about half from the look Robin is giving him while she takes the spot next to Nancy on the other couch.

“What? What’s the look for?”

Robin shrugs, picking up what must’ve been her discarded book from the end table between them (which she’s got the already read half curled backward around its spine, like a heathen), “Nothin’ at all, Eds.”

His face is burning hotter than the fire by the time Steve returns.

He passes them each a mug of cocoa, then flops down on the floor in front of Eddie’s knees. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Eddie asks, surprised at the nonchalance he was able to muster up. He reaches forward and tugs on a lock of Steve’s hair without even thinking about it (and ignoring the muffled giggle coming from somewhere to Robin’s left. Oh great, Nancy’s in on his torment too?).

Steve lets out a contented hum, dropping his head back to lie heavily in Eddie’s lap, “Argyle’s whipping up some burgers.”

Eddie leaves his fingers in Steve’s hair, absentmindedly pulling them through a few tangles left behind by his hat.

Steve’s head lolls around in Eddie’s lap with the motions of his fingers for a whole thirty seconds before he snaps it back up, “Oh–ugh–wait, don’t do that,” Eddie pulls his hand away immediately, an apology on his tongue, but Steve continues, standing up and saying, “I’m all gross and sweaty, man, at least let me take a shower first. Be right back.” Steve grins, and heads upstairs to the master bedroom.

Eddie blinks into the space left behind by Steve’s departure, then Nancy is standing as well; “That’s a good idea,” she says, unfolding from her spot at Robin’s side and walking around the back of the couch, “I’ll be back up soon.” She gives Robin’s shoulder a squeeze, and heads downstairs.

Not a full five seconds pass before Robin says, “So...Steve’s super into you.”

Eddie balks at her, his eyes darting around the room automatically. Jon’s helping Argyle chop up toppings for their burgers, the two of them paying less than zero attention to him or Robin, there’s a yell from downstairs followed by laughter, the sound of a shower starting from the open balcony to the upstairs bedroom..

“You can’t just say shit like that, Birdie.” he whispers, his tone harried.

“What, the truth?”

“He is not into me.”

She nods in sarcastic understanding, “Ah, so you’re into him.”

“No I’m—” she levels him with a look. He sighs, glancing around at the no one around them, “Okay fine, yes, I am super into him. But he is not into me.”

Robin shrugs, going back to her book. “You don’t have to believe me, but I think he is. And I think you should make a move.”

“Make a mo—He’s straight as fuck, Robin!”

She gives him a glance, her brow furrowing for a split second then smoothing out. “Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to.” he says, sinking back against the cushions.

She doesn’t say anything else, and he goes back to staring at the fire.

“If you make a move on Steve, I’ll finally make a move on Nancy.” she says a handful of minutes later.

He processes that slowly, takes a deep breath, then shoves his hand towards her without looking over.

She takes it, giving it one hard shake.

As soon as he takes his hand back, Argyle lopes into view with a plate in his hand, “Food’s ready my dudes.” He says, sinking into the armchair closest to the glass balcony door.

Robin snaps her book shut and sets it down on the little end table between them (the cover curls back up immediately, the poor thing), standing up and heading into the kitchen. 

Eddie has just let his feet fall to the floor and has scooted to the edge of his seat to stand up himself, when Argyle yells out “Nice tits!”

“Whose tits are out?” Eddie asks, following his gaze automatically. 

Argyle goes back to his plate. “Steve’s.” 

Uh…Yeah…He can see that for himself now.

Steve is standing at the railing of the upper floor in nothing but a towel. One hand is flipping Argyle off, and the other is preoccupied with scrubbing a second towel over his damp hair.

The towel wrapped around him is slung low on his hips, and Eddie’s eyes start to roam on their own.

Steve’s stomach is solid yet soft-looking with all its faded pink scars, and it and his chest are still as hairy as Eddie remembers; strong shoulders, solid jaw, dusty lips that pull up into a smirk, all of him is so fucking perfect.

“Hurry it up, dingus, food’s ready!” Robin calls, startling Eddie out of his gawking.

His face goes hot with embarrassment, chancing another glance up to Steve and hoping he didn’t get caught…

Steve winks at him, then turns out of sight, disappearing just as his hand comes down to grab the towel twisted around him.

His face burns, and doesn’t stop burning until long after Steve returns from upstairs.

He makes up a burger for himself, and once each of them have theirs, they call the rest of the hoard upstairs. The six teens all but destroy the remaining burgers, two whole bags of chips, and would have gulped down at least one whole 12 pack of Coke if Nancy hadn’t relegated them to one can each.

Steve’s about to herd them back downstairs when El pipes up and says that they’ve decided they want to go to the waterpark in the main lodge tonight instead of tomorrow. Surprisingly, Steve agrees to drive them over there on the condition “you shitheads are careful, and are ready to go as soon as the pools close at midnight. Got it?”

“Agreed.” they say in unison, splitting off in all directions to grab their swim stuff.

“I’m surprised at you, Stevie, letting them go off on their own.”

He just shrugs, “There’s lifeguards.”

The troops are back in the living room within ten minutes, and in their boots and out the door in 12. 

Once they’re out the door, Robin goes back to her book, Jon and Argyle step out onto the balcony to smoke, and Eddie follows Nancy into the kitchen without even thinking about it, grabbing up the hand towel hanging from the oven door and placing himself to her right.

“Thanks,” she says, handing him the first wet plate from the mess of suds in the sink.

They work in silence for a few minutes, listening to the crackling of the fire, the clanging of silverware in the sink, the muffled voices of the two on the porch.

“Nancy?”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“If I–If Ste–” he wasn’t sure how to ask this, how to even approach the topic, “Robin said—”

“He’d be lucky to have you Eddie, and you him.” She says, not looking up from the sink.

“How’d you–?”

“Robin tends to ramble when she's nervous, have you noticed?”

He stares down at her, dumbfounded. Her lips quirk into a smile. “She’s like that around me a lot, actually.”

“I’ve noticed.”

They fall back into silence again; on the last plate, she says, “Robin’s already had this conversation with Steve about me, so I only assume it’s fair that you have it with me about him.” She passes the last plate to him and pulls the drain from the water. 

“Just remember Eddie,” She pauses and turns to face him, one hip cocked over to lean on the edge of the counter. “If you’re gonna go for it..Steve loves with all of him at once. Don’t take it for granted.”

He sets the dried plate onto the rack beside the sink as she passes behind him, patting him on the shoulder as she does.

He wants to take a moment to process all that, but just his luck, Steve returns then, passing in behind him where Nancy just left to grab up a six-pack.

Steve hands one to Eddie as he leaves, “You okay, Eds?”

“I’m good, thanks Stevie.” he says, fixing his face into an easy smile.

The six of them lounge around the rest of the evening, slowly sipping on their drinks while they play cards in front of the fire, but there’s a catch: Eddie’s going absolutely insane.

Steve’s touching him everywhere. His thigh and foot are sitting comfortably under Eddie’s own thigh where it’s crossed above it, his arm is draped across the back of the couch behind Eddie’s shoulders and methodically twirling long lengths of dark hair between his fingers.

Eddie’s been doing his damndest to ignore it, and succeeds, actually, for short periods of time while they are playing Uno, but every time Steve leans back from dropping his next card on the coffee table, he casually puts his arm back where it was, and grabs up a new lock of Eddie’s hair to torture him with.

And each time he does, Robin gives him the same knowing look.

It’s. Agony.

He wants to relax, wants to scream, he wants to swing his leg over Steve’s lap and press him into the cushions with heated kisses, he wants to haul the other man upstairs and throw him onto the bed…be thrown onto the bed.

Finally, Nancy calls it, breaking their little bubble to stand into a long stretch around nine. Steve hops up off the couch after Robin to gather up all the rest of the cans, and Eddie helps Jon and Argyle pull apart the couches enough to fold out the beds for when the goblins come back.

He escapes upstairs after a short goodnight to the two, Robin and Steve are still bickering in hushed tones about something in the kitchen, and pulls out his bag. He’s fishing out a new pair of boxers when Steve finally gets upstairs, shutting the room’s double doors behind him and heading into the ensuite.

He left the door open in his wake, so Eddie grabs up the rest of his things and follows. He drops his pile of stuff onto the closed lid of the toilet and shucks his shirt unceremoniously, tossing it to the floor.

The glass door of the huge half-walled stone shower squeaks softly on its hinges when he opens it to start the water, squeaking again when it swings closed. He reaches up to a shelf above the toilet to pull down one of the provided towels, turning to hang it on the hook beside the shower.

It’s while he’s turning back to the hook that he chances a look at Steve.

Steve, frozen at the sink with his toothbrush hanging listlessly in the air and a glob of foamy toothpaste slowly drooping off his lip, is staring. 

Unabashedly.

At Eddie’s bare torso.

Eddie caught and cataloged this in the split second it took Steve to realize Eddie was staring back, but it was enough. 

The flirting had been one thing, a natural, goofy continuation of their friendship that led to their ‘date’ today, the soft touches and hair-playing had been another, something Eddie could explain away just as easily. Steve is a touchy guy once you get close to him, and had been with Eddie since they’d gotten closer after spring break.

But this?

He’s looking at him with the same wide-eyed look Eddie’d given him earlier: gobsmacked and slightly hungry.

Steve turns away quickly, spitting into the sink and mumbling something under his breath while he finishes rinsing out his mouth. 

Eddie snorts, shaking his head and finally hanging up his towel.

“Oh, what, now you’re gonna be all shy?” he grouses, twisting around to scowl at the back of Steve’s head. Steve looks over his shoulder to glare at him in return, his cheeks glowing red. “Really? The guy who was joking about bending me over only a couple hours ago? The same guy who was winking at me in nothing but a towel earlier?”

Steve flushes darker, and it irritates him to no end. “Honestly Steve?” Eddie starts, turning back to the shower and pretending to fix how his towel is hanging, “If you’re into me, just do something about it. Otherwise, just…back off, okay? I’m super into you but I can be a big boy about it because honestly, I’d rather keep you around as a friend if nothing else and—”

His rambling is cut off by the click of the bathroom door closing.

Eddie lets out a long breath, “Yeah.. that’s about what I expected.” Robin was wrong.

He takes a moment to collect himself, but just as he pops open the button on his jeans, Steve’s voice breaks through the sound of rushing water.

“Were you being serious?”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie yelps, spinning around to face the man who’s still very much in the bathroom with him. “What the fuck, Steve?”

“Were you?” he asks, pushing off from where he’d been leaning back on the door.

“...About what?”

“About how you’re ‘super into’ me?” he grins.

Eddie crosses his arms across his chest defensively, “You don’t get to be an ass about it, Steve.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve says softly, reaching out to unfold Eddie’s arms. His fingers follow the length of them and grasp Eddie’s in his, “I wasn’t trying to be, promise; I’m just surprised is all.”

“Surprised?”

“Well yeah,” he shrugs, “The super hot metalhead you’ve been mooning after since March confesses he thinks you’re also super hot? That’s kinda hard to believe.”

He can feel Steve’s shirt brushing faintly against his stomach now. “I never said you were super hot.” he manages to say.

Steve catches his eyes, smirking at him with an obnoxious head tilt, “Didja have to?”

“Shut up..” Eddie snorts out a laugh and pushes lightly at Steve’s chest; he’s laughing too. “Okay, okay, now leave me alone so I can shower.” he says, pushing a bit harder this time. “I’ll be out soon and you can do with me what you wish.”

Steve’s leaning his weight against him, fighting going back to the bedroom, “Or…”

“Or?” Damn, he’s heavy what the fuck!

“I could, maybe, if you want..Icouldgetinwithyou.”

Eddie stops pushing.

Steve scratches at the back of his head in embarrassment, “I mean, I’ve been wanting to get you naked for months now and there’s a perfectly good reason right there, and I think it’d be nice to shower, y’know…together.. and wow, I am being super awkward, actually..so I’m just gonna…yeah.”

Steve gestures over his shoulder toward the bedroom but he doesn’t even move to turn before Eddie is pulling him back the other way.

He lets him go a couple steps away from the glass shower door, “Better get t’stripping big boy, can’t shower very well with clothes on, can you?” he winks, then faces away from Steve to finally shed his jeans (and for his own sanity).

Eddie can hear the split second it takes for Steve to start pulling off his clothes, taking another second for himself before pushing his jeans and boxers off his hips.

He had been trying to be in the shower under the spray before Steve was even out of his clothes, but one of his legs got caught, then he had to pause further to pull off the stubborn sock that decided not to come off with his jeans.

Which of course led to him nearly toppling over.

He caught himself on the wall, but not before Steve’s hands caught him around the waist too. “Careful, Eds.”

Oh fuck. Steve’s hands should not feel that good against his skin..also, dammit! He was trying to be all suave and cool by getting in under the water before Steve could see him fully, and now his bare fuckin’ ass is out for all to see…

Eddie laughs to himself.

“What?”

“Nothin’, I just thought I’d be…better? At this?”

“At what?”

“Stupid fuckin’—” Eddie finally gets his sock off, then sighs, “I dunno, being sexy, or mysterious I guess? Coy maybe?” 

“Why would you need to be any of that?”

Eddie shrugs, stepping out of Steve’s hold and into the shower and under the spray, staying faced away from the door while Steve follows.

“Are you gonna look at me?” he asks, voice devoid of anything but concern.

Taking a breath, Eddie steels himself and turns to face Steve in the large shower.

Steve’s expression is calm, open, but skews slightly into concern under Eddie’s gaze.

The long lean lines of his torso are just the same as the other two times he’s seen them, but they’re close now, and in good lighting too; Eddie can see a few other scars other than the ones from the bats, others he’s gotten over the years protecting the heard of goblins they’ve been co-parenting since last September.

He watches rogue droplets of water slough down the now-damp hairs on his arms, his legs, his chest, the ones that follow the path of darkening hairs down his stomach to his—

Steve steps closer, sharing the warm, wide spray of the shower with him.

He lifts his hand and brushes the damp hair back from the scar that marrs Eddie’s face and neck, stepping forward fully and cupping the puckered flesh in his palm when the hair settles wetly behind his shoulder

Eddie feels time stop for a brief moment. 

All of Steve is pressed into him and they line up perfectly, like they were made to share the same space. Steve’s other hand slides onto Eddie’s hip and it tugs him closer. Steve's half-hard length slots into place beside Eddie’s own, into the crevice where his crotch meets thigh.

Eddie shudders a breath at the feeling, opening his eyes to study the planes of Steve’s face and the way he is seemingly drooping forward into Eddie’s orbit. 

Steve’s smiling softly at him, the soft spray of water reflecting off their chests is misting up onto his cheek and lashes. His eyes are so much more green than he’d thought before, besides how little of the color he can see around the much larger pupil.

“Gorgeous.” Steve says, his voice is breathy and low, full of admiration, of longing…and it takes Eddie out of his reverie.

“Wha?” He says, eloquent as ever.

“You’re gorgeous, Eddie.”

Then, Steve’s lips are on his, tentative and sweet; soft, but becoming heady fast. 

The next time their lips meet, it’s punctuated with a short huff of air from Steve’s lungs when Eddie spins them, pressing Steve into the stone wall beside the shower knobs. He parts his lips to mumble out an apology, but Steve’s tongue decides to fill the space instead.

The hand Steve had on Eddie’s jaw snakes down to grab hold of his other hip and pulls him even closer, using the both of them to roll Eddie’s hips into his.

Their tongues slide languidly against the other, the fast pace they’d been building into falling off in exchange for slow, sanguine kisses instead.

Eddie lets out a shaky breath when they do part, blinking across the short distance between them at Steve’s kiss-bitten lips for only a second before letting his eyes fall shut with the exhale.

“Steve…is this—Is this real?”

Steve breathes out a shaky laugh of his own, “Why wouldn’t it be real, Eddie?” He asks, gently tracing the length of Eddie’s nose with his.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve had this exact dream before; are you sure I didn’t snap my neck during one of those falls earlier?”

The younger man laughs fully this time, and Eddie relishes in the slippery feeling of the wet skin of Steve’s stomach rippling against his own. He can’t help but grin in response to both the laughter and the funny feeling, his eyes opening without a second thought.

Steve looks like he’s floating, his face soft and dripping with a bright beaming smile..

“Do you need me to pinch you?” Steve asks, finally coming down from his brief fit of laughter.

“I don’t know if I want to find out this isn’t real.” Eddie grins in return.

One of Steve’s large hands leaves his hip then, snaking around to pinch the underside of Eddie’s asscheek.

He sucks in a short hiss of pain and lets out a soft whimper of something else (holy shit, when did that become a thing??) in the same breath.

“Okay…” he gulps down a mouthful of nothing, “Not a dream.”

“Not a dream..” Steve repeats. 

There’s a beat, two full breaths of more nothing before Steve spins them around and pushes Eddie back into the cold stone instead, his arm wrapped around him and up to cup the back of his skull protectively against the tile.

He presses a thick thigh between Eddie’s and does three things almost simultaneously.

The first, a second before the other two: He locks his heavy-lidded gaze on Eddie’s; two and three: presses the thigh between Eddie’s legs up, and pulls the hand at the back of his skull down along with a fistful of dark curls.

“Aahhh—ohhh fuck, Steve…” The sting from his scalp pulls a moan from his exposed throat, and Eddie scrambles to grab hold of something.

His nails dig into the slick skin of Steve’s back automatically, and he opens his mouth to apologize the same moment Steve latches onto his neck with a low groan of his own.

The hand not tangled in Eddie’s hair is starting to pull him down in waves against Steve’s thigh and hips, both of them hissing in pleasure with each pass of the other’s length against theirs.

“Mmmm, Eddie..” Steve moans, unlatching from the bruise he’s sure to have left on Eddie’s throat to lave his tongue and lips against his jaw instead. “Baby, you feel so good against me.”

“AAaahh—mmm..”

“Ooh, and you sound so sweet..” His lips trail down from his jaw back to the definitely sore spot on his neck, one that he prods lightly with the tip of his tongue before continuing on to nip at the taught skin of his collarbone, kiss lightly over the skin of his scarred pec, finally landing tongue first onto Eddie’s remaining nipple. 

The reaction to this is immediate; Eddie arches his chest further into Steve’s mouth. Steve, the sonofabitch he is, suctions his lips away from Eddie’s flushed skin in response.

“Hhnng—what the actual fuck, Steve?” Eddie glares best he can though the panting, “Get that mouth back over here.”

Miraculously, Steve obliges, sliding forward into a saccharine kiss and pulling Eddie away from

the wall and back under the spray of water.

“C’mon Eds, tilt your head back before the hot water runs out.”

Eddie just gapes at him, at his dick, both their dicks, still standing at attention, back up to his face.

Steve just purses his lips together as if holding back a grin and tugs Eddie’s head back by his hair again, soaking the strands through under the water.

He lets Steve turn him this way and that, reveling in the feeling of the other man’s hands in his hair, slick with soap on his skin, the gentle nudges and pulls relaxing him further into this weird world where Steve’s totally into him and also they’re naked in the shower together.

Finally, when Steve tilts his head back for the final time to rinse the conditioner out of his hair, Eddie decides to be a little shit, pushing his hips forward to clash their (still half-hard) dicks together.

“What are you—really? A sword fight?”

Eddie lets out a long cackle, “What? You knew what you were getting into with me, didn’t’cha Stevie?”

Doubt crashes into Eddie’s chest the instant the words escape his mouth.

He did, didn’t he? He likes him for his antics right? Oh fuck…How long would it take for Steve to get sick of his shit?

Despite Eddie’s near-crushing doubts, Steve smiles and says, “That I did.” easy as breathing, then pulls Eddie flush against him in another heated kiss.

Steve walks him backward after a moment, and Eddie drops his hands behind him to feel for the inevitable press of cold stone on his back, shuddering when it finally makes contact.

His gasp from the cold tile only seems to egg the other man on, hunching down to grip him around the backs of his thighs.

Eddie’s legs lock around Steve’s waist in panic, but pleasure shoots through him with the motion too, the horny thrill of being picked up so effortlessly along with the pressure of Steve’s stomach against the underside of his dick.

“Mmph—Steve holy shit,” he’s only just managed to thread the fingers on one hand into those sleek brown locks when he has to stifle down a long groan with a bite to his knuckle. “Hnngh–Steve, Steve, you gotta—oh fuck..”

The muscles of Steve’s stomach bunch under him as he grinds up in slow, torturous rolls..

“Oh, fuck—” the words spill out of his mouth, loud and long; his palm snaps up to hold them in as Steve pushes his shoulders into the tile behind him and leans back, leaving Eddie’s body balanced between strong thighs and shower wall.

The tile hits hard on the back of his skull when Steve wraps one of those hands of his around both their lengths. Eddie manages to look down, only to knock his head back again at the sight. 

Even with the added height of being on top of Steve’s thighs, their heads are exactly level, disappearing over and over again into the water-warmed skin of Steve’s fist.

Steve hunches forward again, pressing kisses into Eddie’s sternum. “Gorgeous.” 

“Steve...” he whispers in return, grinding as much as he can against the length slotted along his.

Again, too soon, Steve is pulling away, releasing his grip on them both.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, already moving to drop his legs back to the floor. 

Steve stops him, hoisting his legs back around him and lifting him off the wall. “I’m taking you up on your offer.” He says, twisting off the now-cold stream of water and carefully stepping over the lip of the doorway through the glass door.

“My offer?”

“You said that after your shower, you’d come back out here to the bedroom and I could have my way with you.”

A half whine, half moan curls out of Eddie’s throat to his utter embarrassment.

“D’ya like that idea, sweetheart?” Steve says, grinning mischievously. 

Eddie manages to scowl at him as they leave the steamy bathroom, and is dropped down onto the mattress soon after. 

“Aw shit!”

“What? What happened?”

It’s cold as shit, that’s what.” The air-cooled temperature of the covers against his skin has him breaking out in goosebumps.

Steve winces, “Sorry, I didn’t think about that.”

What was calm and collected confidence flickers off his face, and Eddie can’t have that. “Jus’ come over here and warm me up, big bo–wait,” He sits up and stops Steve when only one of his knees has made it onto the bed. “Lemme look at you.” 

He looks down at Steve, and yep. Big Boy is very accurate. He’d felt it against him already, Steve’s too-gorgeous-to-be-real dick; he’s longer for sure, cut and curved up like something out of a wet dream. 

“Oh, definitely big boy,” Eddie grins, looking up at Steve’s somewhat embarrassed expression.

“It’s nothing special.” he shrugs, his cheeks heating up as he climbs up Eddie’s damp body. He lowers himself down lay between his legs, his dick slotting itself beside Eddie’s once again.

He hunches over to kiss lightly up the scars on Eddie’s left side, lips brushing along the healed edge of the biggest one. It tickles, then it doesn’t, then does, then doesn’t, his lips pressing halfway onto skin and halfway onto puckered pink flesh.

“Steve..”

“Yeah baby?” he responds after a few more kisses.

“You’re giving me more goosebumps.” Eddie says, somewhat breathless.

Another kiss, “Mmmm.. You’re welcome.”

That shocks a laugh out of him, “You’re such a dork.”

Steve takes one of Eddie’s hands where it lays on the mattress, lacing their fingers together and pressing them back into the mattress beside his head.

“Says you.” he affirms, locking those ridiculous hazel eyes on his.

Eddie’s about to crack off another one liner, say something to…all that, but it’s completely erased from his mind when Steve ducks his head down to find his nipple again.

“Oh fuckin–nnng..” his hips buck up hard into Steve’s, who presses down into him in return.

He can feel it when Steve grins against his skin. “Shut up, asshole, that fee–ee–els so good.”

“Hmm, tell me about it, baby.” He’s grinding down slowly now, adding to the exponentially increasing Steve-addled brain fog he’s currently experiencing.

“Ahhh—I want to but–”

“But what?” Steve’s breath over the spit-slick spot on his chest sends a chill through him. 

“Oh fuck–If any of them hear us, we’re never going to hear the end of it.” he tries to warn around another stifled moan.

The Menace is undeterred, swirling his tongue around the little nub open-mouthed and hot once more before moving upwards, trailing his lips up Eddie’s breastbone until he’s sucking kisses into his throat once again. He continues up along the length of his neck until he reaches his ear, “Then you’d better keep it down, huh?”

Well that didn’t help. He lets out a long moan in response, clamping a hand over his mouth way too late.

“You sound so good though,” Steve says, continuing his slow grinding, “I can’t wait to get you alone so I can fuck you properly.”

That pulls another moan from behind Eddie’s palm. “Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie bucks his hips up as much as he can, but Steve's palms move down to hold him in place.

“Can’t have that now, can we?” Steve chides, trailing his lips down his stomach as he slides back to the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on Eddie’s.

“Wh–Why not?”

“Because I’d prefer,” a kiss above his belly button, “to choke,” a kiss below, “on my own accord.”, then swallows Eddie down in one go.

“Oh fffuuck—”

Steve hums in agreement around Eddie’s dick and the vibrations course up his spine to rattle around in his brain.

“Oh shit, Stevie, that feels so fuckin’ good.” He breathes, twisting his fingers into Steve’s hair.

In response, Steve starts to bob his head, swirling his tongue around Eddie’s on the upstroke, and sucking with fervor on the down.

“Steve, sweetheart–fuck–if you keep going I’m gonna—haah—”

“And what if I want you to?”

“And what if I want to to-together?”

Steve releases him with a wet pop, kissing his way back up to Eddie’s lips, humming in satisfaction when he reaches them, like kissing Eddie is the best part of all this.

And doesn’t that make his head spin.

“All you’d have to do is ask.”

Eddie pulls Steve back to his lips and bucks up into him again. “That’s me asking.”

Steve grins down at him and re-starts his slow, tortuous pace.

He’s rock hard against Eddie’s thigh, and this is getting fuckin’ ridiculous.

“Alright, you know what,” Eddie pushes his hips up hard and flips them over, straddling Steve’s thighs in no time at all.

“Holy shit—“ Steve blinks up at him in astonishment, like he’s surprised that he’s been flipped so easily.

 Eddie grinds down onto Steve, “You don’t get to tease me like that, big boy.”

“Is that so?” He chuckles, then groans when Eddie wraps his hand around their lengths. His hands grip onto Eddie’s thighs, squeezing tight to match the hold on them.

Eddie fucks forward into his fist, pulling his hand down to meet each thrust and watching as Steve’s head drops back onto the mattress.

He lets out a long groan. “Eddie…”

“Yeah, Stevie?”

Eddie runs his fingers over both their heads, adding to the slight slip of pre with a well aimed glob of spit that makes Steve hum out a short breathy moan as it makes contact with his head.

More noises of appreciation are pulled from the man under him as he rubs the pad of his thumb through the mess and under the head of Steve’s cock in small circles.

“Mmhm oh fuck..”

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm,” he nods dazedly “Keep moving though, feels so good, Eds.”

“You got it, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, wrapping his palm around them again and pushes forward into his fist.

Steve’s head drops back onto the pillow beneath him, “Just like that Eddie, fuck.” 

He gives them a few more strokes, then Steve’s hands start to move; his warm palms skirt along the wiry hair on his legs, one traveling around to grab onto Eddie’s horribly non-existent ass, and the other comes up to his remaining nipple, pinching it between two digits.

That did it. The hot coil of pleasure already broiling in his stomach twists even tighter. “Ahh—Stevie..I’m so close, Jesus Christ…”

“Me too..”

“Yeah? Well c’mon sweetheart, give it to me.”

A scant two passes of his hand later, Steve shoots hot across his stomach, and Eddie follows a half stroke later. 

He sinks down to the bed against Steve’s heaving ribs, tucking his shoulder under the other man’s arm.

After a few more breaths, Steve pulls Eddie into him and presses his lips to Eddie’s still-damp forehead.

“Ew gross, don’t do that, I’m all sweaty.”

“Don't care.” Steve mumbles softly into his hairline.

In return, Eddie wipes his soiled hand off on Steve’s stomach.

“Ew! Gross!” Steve laughs, shoving Eddie away with no actual intent behind it.

A few minutes later, Steve breaks the comfortable silence. “So,”

The word sinks heavily into Eddie’s gut. “So?”

When Steve doesn’t continue, Eddie turns his head to find Steve gazing at him with soft eyes, and even softer smile.

It morphs into a teasing smirk. “Did it live up to the hype?”

—--

One snooze and another heated shower later, Eddie crawls back into their bed and gets comfy while he listens to Steve pull his clothes back on to go down to the main lodge for the hellions.

He hears a short shuf when Steve’s leg skirts around the end of the bed. “I’ll be back in 15,” he says, kissing the damp hairs on Eddie’s temple. “Go to sleep, Eds.”

“Hmmm…” he hums in return, cozy as ever, and is out as soon as the door clicks shut.

Too soon, the sounds of the shitheads scrambling into the house interrupts his dozing, the door to the bedroom squeaking open not long after.

“Eds? You awake?”

Instead of answering, Eddie simply opens his arms.

He listens to Steve strip off his clothes, beckoning the man forward again when he feels the end of the mattress sink under the other man’s weight. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, hold your horses.”

“My horses have been patient enough.” Eddie grumbles as Steve finally shuffles between the sheets and into his waiting arms.

-x-X-x-

“Dude! What the hell happened to your neck?! Did you get attacked by a vampire?”

“Henderson, you are way too loud for how early it is.”

“It’s 10 am, Eddie.”

“Exactly.” the barstool creaks as he climbs onto it, gratefully accepting the plate of eggs and bacon Argyle passes him.

“Leave him alone, guys.” Steve says, coming up behind Eddie on his stool and kissing his cheek as he passes into the kitchen with his empty plate.

There’s three whole seconds of silence before the younger teens burst out into a cacophony of various outbursts.

“Aw, what? Eddie! Steve’s way too lame for you to be dating!”

“Steve, did you fuck my DM?!”

“I fuckin’ knew it. I told you they’d get together, didn’t I? Dustin, you owe me 10 bucks.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Maxine.”

“Holy shit, congrats guys.” Lucas is his new favorite… Will and El too, nodding along to Sinclair’s assessment.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough; All those heading back to the waterpark better be ready to go in T-minus three minutes otherwise I’m leavin’ without you.” Steve calls out over the noise.

The complaints follow him out of the kitchen and into the tiny laundry room off the entryway.

“Why don’t you guys get yelled at?” Eddie grumbles, poking up a forkful of egg.

Robin snorts a laugh, “Because none of us are sleeping with the babysitter.”

okay, some notes:

steve's mom is a lawyer in this canon and she's the one who paid for eddie's legal counsel/helped with clearing his name after s4

wha?? steve harrington has good parents?? insanity

"canon" hawkins is about an hour outside of indianapolis so i used shelbyville, indiana as my base and from there to boyne mountain is about a 7 hour drive. if they left at 6 am from hawkins, they'd get to the resort around 1 or 2 and have a good couple hours to ski before it gets dark again at 6 (daylight hours in the midwest during winter are a bitch.)

i did way too much research into the ski resort i based this at, only to realize that neither the cabin itself OR the waterpark were there in the 80s. so...let's all just pretend, okay?

the map above is a trail map of the resort from 1985

when i asked my husband what i should add to 'my most recent blorbos' he said 'nice tits!' so that's why that line lmao

who'da thought this'd go from skiing to shower sex? cause i didn't

i got stuck on the smut part of this for way too long and i am so glad i am a) done with it and b) that it actually turned out relatively coherent.

on that note though, i have been looking at this damn fic for so so long that i don't know if it's actually good or what. 'cause to me, it's complete garbled garbage

the title of this is from 'Object of My Desire' by Starpoint

lex i am so sorry this is late ilysm 🫶

[guspartenza]

THE SUPERWOMAN FROM KRYPTON, FANART+FANFIC INTRODUCTION

art by https://www.deviantart.com/gabrielrb91

What would you think about an alternate universe with a female-Clark as Superwoman in the golden age?

Is the only main change in the classic canon together with her love interest, is not Earth-11, let's say is Eart-19...meet Clara Kent/Superwoman!

It's 1948, in Metropolis!

Up in the sky! Look! It's a bird? It's a plane? No! It's Superwoman!

Faster than a speeding bullet! More powerful than a locomotive! Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, this amazing stranger from the planet Krypton, The Woman of Steel: Superwoman!

Empowered with X-ray vision, possessing remarkable physical strength, Superwoman fights a never-ending battle for love, truth, and justice, disguised as a mild-mannered newspaper reporter, Clara Kent!

In a world plagued by the Cold War and mistrust, can Superwoman bring peace to the world while fighting for love, truth, justice, and the American way? Can she finally find a happy life with Louis Lane, the love of her life? Can she defeat Lex Luthor and the terrible ancient evil he is about to awaken?

You can download full free illustrated fanfic in pdf here! SUPERWOMAN FROM KRYPTON-FREE ILLUSTRATED FANFIC by lordmallory on DeviantArt or here https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XPh48B9_giTgDpnBXjRP-4Z4ksUU-WzR/view?usp=drive_link

Art by https://www.deviantart.com/letoart

KALA-EL/CLARA JOSEPHINE KENT/SUPERWOMAN

BORN: Krypton, a moon in a distant galaxy. Formally 28/02/1918, SMALLVILLE, KANSAS

PROFESSION: ASSISTANT REPORTER

YEAR: 1948

PLACE: METROPOLIS (METROPOLIS COUNTY, NEW YORK)

art by https://www.deviantart.com/wagemagegames

-Farmgirl, born Kansas 1918. No sisters nor brothers.

-Nicest girl in the office but very unfunny.

-Disappears without reason very often.

-Lives alone in a little flat and has a golden retriever dog called Krypto.

-Daddy issues. Her father didn't let her pursue a career as ballet dancer or swimmer (he didn't want her to take advantage of her powers) and died when she was 18.

-Former nurse during the war in the Pacific Ocean and in the Philippines.

-Loves children and dogs

-Tomboyish trails. Not quite elegant.

-Music-Hall fan, Katherine Hepburn and James Stewart fan

-Favorite books: Scarlet Pimpernel adventures, Jane Austen, Upton Sinclair and Virginia Wolf, somewhat eclectic.

-Amateur writer of children's stories, with characters such as DeeDog and the Komfy Dragon.

-She greatly admires her boss, Perry Weiss. A 1940s very liberal Republican style journalist, chief editor of the Daily Planet. She despises her deputy boss Cat Grant.

-Ambiguous relationship with her other boss Louis Lane. Clara has a good friendship with Louis and hides that she is very much in love with him. At the same time, she competes a lot with Mr. Lane and is annoyed by his political ideas and his paternalism.

-Strange friendship with young millionaire Bruce Wayne, something that is very surprising for the people in the Daily Planet newsroom.

-Always good scoops but never appears in the front line and too stubborn and independent to grow fast in the newspaper.

-Progressive quaker like her fathers.

-Civil rights supporter.

-Dislikes General McArthur, dislikes even more Lex Luthor

-Loves Eleanor Roosevelt but also Governor Dewey.

-Hates guns

-Supports unions, splits ticket between Metropolis Liberal Party and the two main parties. Politicians must be kind.

art by https://www.tumblr.com/bobbinalong

SUPERHEROINE LIFE

-Superpowers: Flight, Super-Strength, Super-Speed, X-Ray Vision, Heat Vision, Enhanced Vision, Super-Hearing, Super-Breath, Freeze-Breath, High Invulnerability, Super-Stamina

-Can fly to a Mach 100 speed.

-Acts as Superwoman since October 1945.

-Defeated Zod invasion in July1946.

-Initial bad relationship with Batman but now close friends and allies. Together with Flash they conform the Justice League.

-Didn't act as Superwoman during the World War II because she was afraid of her powers. After the discovery of the Holocaust and the atomic bombs she decided to step in and showed herself to the world on autumn 1945.

-Worst enemy: Lex Luthor, heir of Nikola Tesla, rocket engineer & CEO of TELCORP (Tesla-Luthor Co.)

-Deeply in love with Louis Lane, who strongly rejects the superheroine.

-She hides her supersuit and cape under her normal clothes. The material is extraordinarily thin, flexible and resistant, and very easy to wear under normal clothing. Whenever someone needs Superwoman, she just needs to find an inconspicuous place, rip her shirt, unfold her cape and fly away at full speed.

-Widely admired.

art by https://www.deviantart.com/bluerollerball

art by Gabriel Larragan (Ko-Fi)

FAMILY & ORIGINS

The El family & Krypton

Krypton was a decadent civilization located on a moon near a large gaseous planet in the Orion belt, next to a green sun. In the past they had visited Earth and other planets expanding civilization, but their penchant for slavery, war, resource extraction and violence caused many of these projects to fail. Even in 10,500 BC the Kryptonians almost caused the terraforming of the Earth, melting the poles and destroying Atlantis and other civilizations, causing among other things the end of the Ice Age. Nearly 99% of humanity perished during that Kryptonian attack.

Over the centuries the Kryptonians lost the fuel necessary to travel across space and ended up confined to their planet, dedicated to warfare, genetic engineering-creating clones whose organs they needed to extend their lives-to pleasure and to exploiting the subsoil of their planet. The Kryptonians also established a dictatorship with a caste system based on genetic engineering and prohibited natural reproduction.

Jor-El and Lara were a couple of scientists critical of the system and supporters of the abolition of the caste system. They also fought against genetic engineering, violent repression, and the permanent destruction of the ecosystem. After a series of terrible earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and gas outbursts, it became clear that Krypton's core was collapsing, due to the energetic drilling and magnetic energy used in Krypton's industry. The Planet was doomed but the ruling caste ignored it. Jor-El and Lara had a daughter, Kala-El in a natural way against all the rules of Krypton. Lara managed to manufacture a small ship capable of making a space jump to save her daughter from the end of Krypton. General Zod stole her design and managed to build a larger fleet of ships but Jor-El managed to sabotage them and send the fleet to the Phantom Zone, a black hole near Krypton.

Lara decided to send Kala to Earth, confident that the culture of this planet was much more hopeful and kinder, and less prone to the mistakes of Krypton than other distant inhabited planets closer to them. Jor-El preferred to send her to New Genesis, another distant inhabited planet, because there Kala would receive less radiation and develop less extraordinary abilities that would allow her to live a normal life, but eventually Lara convinced him. During her journey to Earth and her growing period under a yellow sun, Kala would develop wonderful powers and could live a long life in the service of mankind, rehabilitating Krypton's legacy.

Within hours of Kala's birth, she was placed in the small ship, accompanied by the robot guide Kelex, whose memory was imprinted with the consciousness of Jor-El and Lara, as well as nearly all of Krypton's cultural heritage. They included several Kryptonian artifacts inside, such as a nearly indestructible ceremonial female ancestral caped suit with the crest of the House of El on its chest.

The ship was launched just hours before Krypton's demise and travelled through space for thirty years...

art by https://www.tumblr.com/bobbinalong

Joe&Martha Kent, Kansas life

Joe and Martha Kent were a Quaker farming couple whose farm was struck by the pod carrying Kala-El the 28th of February of 1918. Although owners of substantial property they were a very humble, cooperative, austere, devout, and civil rights-minded people. Martha Kent was a descendant of Kansas abolitionist guerrilla fighter John Brown. They both raised Clara very lovingly and unwilling to ask too many questions about the baby's origin. Clara was a very sickly child as her body did not adapt to the Earth. She was an affectionate and obedient girl and devoured books. The Kent family were avowed supporters of the New Deal and Joe Kent was a member of the local farmers union.

With puberty Clara developed very fast, and her superpowers began to appear. She soon began to excel in swimming and ballet, while still questioning her origins, but Joe forbade her to pursue a professional career to prevent her from taking advantage of her powers, and moreover he forbade her to use her superpowers to help others, fearful of humanity's reaction and wary of savior messiahs in the era of interwar dictators.

Clara rebelled against her father but eventually gave in, fearful of her own abilities and understanding her parents' position. During these years, Clara didn't fit in very well, but she had two best friends, Pete Ross, with whom she was secretly in love, and Lana Lang. Pete didn't know about her superpowers, but Lana did. In 1936 Joe Kent died of a heart attack, devastating her daughter. Clara was unable to go to college after her father's death and worked as a teacher and nurse's aide in Smallville. Her engagement to Pete Ross, her teenage sweetheart failed in 1939 when she revealed her powers to Pete and he panicked, although he later promised to keep the secret. In those times of sadness, Kelex, the Kryptonian robot, was activated, explaining to Clara her true origins, which filled her with confusion.

Between 1939 and 1941 Clara lived in Canada and Alaska searching for the Fortress of Solitude, a strange place Kelex was pointing, but with the outbreak of World War II she decided to enlist as a nurse in the Pacific, refusing to use her powers except to help the wounded, fearing to cause more harm than good. In late 1944, the hospital ship on which he was traveling, the USS Shuster, was torpedoed by the Japanese. Clara jumped into the water and managed to keep the ship afloat with her super strength until she managed to beach it. No one understood how miraculously the ship had stayed afloat and even levitated. The incident was kept secret. Clara got a permit to return home and she revisited Alaska where she found the Fortress of Solitude with the help of Kelex. There she was able to better understand her origins and began to train her superpowers.

After learning about the Holocaust first and the atomic bombs later, Clara decided to become Superwoman and help others with her superpowers dressed in the ceremonial Kryptonian costume of her ancestors. Her mother Martha supported her decision. She relocated to Metropolis, where in September 1945 she was hired as an assistant reporter by Major Louis Lane, who had just returned from Europe.

art by LuisF47 - Hobbyist, Digital Artist | DeviantArt

On October 1, 1945, Superwoman unveiled herself to the world and caused a huge sensation. The world was changed forever. Superwoman introduced herself to the newly formed United Nations, explaining her origins and her desire to help others and to stay out of political conflicts except to protect civilians.

Clara Kent began her double life as a journalist and as Superwoman. In July 1946, she defeated the invasion of General Zod and the survivors of Krypton. She also had to face other enemies such as the Intergang - an alliance of all organized crime in Metropolis and Gotham, Atomic Skull - an ex-Nazi agent with terrifying technology, Lex Luthor who began to develop his hatred and paranoia towards the superheroine, and his creations such as Metallo.

art by https://www.deviantart.com/xtophe

DAILY PLANET CHARACTERS

Perry Weiss, a major shareholder and editor in chief of the Daily Planet. Born in Odessa in 1886. Jewish immigrant from humble origins who became a skilled journalist and founded the Daily Planet as a tool of the liberal wing of the Metropolis Republican Party to unseat the city bosses of the time. Still a staunch liberal, he supported Roosevelt in 1932 and 1936, is an ally of Mayor LaGuardia. He won the Pulitzer Prize in the 1920s for defending the innocence of Sacco and Vanzetti. Friend and ally of Louis Lane's father. He is very demanding with his employees but is very fond of Clara. He admires and defends Superwoman despite Louis Lane's distrust. Best friend of Cat Grant.

Cat Grant, Co-chair of Perry Weiss, Pulitzer winner, closeted lesbian, and Ayn Rand Fan. Born 1901, she comes from a fine family of Metropolis Knickerbockers. She is like Louis the least liberal element of the newspaper. To protect herself she married a very old friend of her father who helped her lead a double life. For twenty years she lived with a painter named Margaret Ivy. Considered the best writer of the Daily Planet, in addition to being a journalist she has published two novels. Very elegant and popular in intellectual circles. She is tremendously authoritarian. She mistreats Clara a lot because she does not respect her authority and because of her different political ideas, but as Clara grows as a journalist and Cat Grant suspects that she is Superwoman, she will protect her and push her forward without Clara knowing it. Best friend of Perry Weiss

Jimmy Olsen and Lucy Weiss, best friends of Clara.

Jimmy is a junior urban photographer. He comes from a town in Massachusetts. He is 7 years younger than Clara. He is a party animal, friendly, generous, and somewhat naive. Yet he is a skilled photographer who has been able to capture the worst of the night and day of Metropolis. Miraculously he always gets the best pictures of Superwoman (Clara helps him a little). Very democratic and complains about working for a newspaper that is too conservative for his taste. Adores Clara whom he treats as his big sister. It doesn't even cross his mind that she is Superwoman. Jimmy thinks that Louis is a snob and a bigot.

Lucy is a senior political photographer and the only woman on photo reporting on the Daily Planet who works outside the fashion department. She is the eldest daughter of Perry Weiss. She is an intrepid photojournalist who gets overseas passes and has been to several military conflicts. A loyal friend of Clara, and a very serious and professional woman. She is suspicious of Clara's double identity but would never say anything. She is the same age as Clara and a lover of jazz and the more alternative circuits of Metropolis.

art by https://www.deviantart.com/milkydraws8/gallery

art by https://www.artstation.com/pabloalcalde

LOUIS LANE, SUPERWOMAN'S WEAKNESS?

NAME: LOUIS LANE

BORN: 08/02/1912, METROPOLIS (NEW YORK)

PROFESSION: SENIOR REPORTER

YEAR: 1948

PLACE: METROPOLIS (NYC)

art by https://www.deviantart.com/rickcelis/gallery

-Rich family, born in 1912, first of 6 brothers.

-Caustic, cynical, ironic but somewhat kind.

-Commanding.

-Lives in Park Avenue with his 6-year-old daughter and his rich unfaithful wife, fashion reporter Pat Lane (neé Kelly). Very unhappy marriage.

-Major rank during the war in the US army. He also worked with the OSS.

-Elegant, sportsman, plays violin.

-Teaches music lessons in an orphan house in secret.

-Not that snobbish nor Wasp, new rich family traits.

-Arkham University alumni.

-Classic music and literature lover.

-Heavy drinker.

-Does not enjoy journalism, thinking of quitting to politics or teaching literature.

-Jewish father (Lane surname is a change from Lantzman), Irish catholic mother, raised catholic and religious, but not extremely orthodox.

-His father is a self-made tycoon who started as democrat in the Tammany Hall and then switched to republican. Close ally of Mayor LaGuardia.

-Fought in the European theater during World War II.

-Conservative republican opposed to his father liberal republican views, loves McArthur, who he thinks should be the next President.

-In the past he had a good opinion of Lex Luthor. He saw him as an innovator and freedom fighter, but his opinion changed when Luthor kidnapped him to set a trap for Superwoman.

-Perry Weiss favorite reporter.

-Won the Pulitzer Prize in 1941, for his articles about the first defeat of the Intergang.

-First person to interview Superwoman.

-Very nice and paternalistic to Clara. Louis pushes Clara's career forward despite Cat Grant's opposition. He is also secretly in love with Clara. Although he rejects Superwoman and suspects she is the same person as Clara, he deludes himself and rejects these suspicions.

-Tired of New Deal Politics, anticommunist.

-"a brilliant and kind man" for most of the Daily Planet staff, a "terrible asshole" for many others like Jimmy Olsen.

-Strongly rejects Superwoman and other heroes.

-Sometimes Clara really hates him.

-Famous line "Neither reds nor capes".

-He lives a bizarre love triangle with Clara Kent and Superwoman. Although he publicly rejects the superheroine, he also desires her and he and Superwoman have had moments of passion, which Louis feels guilty about because he is married and because of his religion. On the other hand, he is in love with Clara Kent as much as he rejects the figure of Superwoman. He deludes himself about the identity of both. A bit James Stewart in Vertigo, which destabilizes and infuriates Clara.

art by https://www.deviantart.com/guinnessyde

art by https://akiko02.carrd.co/

CURRENT AND PAST ENEMIES

Lex Luthor

Rocket engineer, CEO of TELCORP and Heir of Nikola Tesla. A Brilliant scientist who defines himself as a "radical humanist"...but in the early 30s supported closely fascism to stop "imperialism" and "usury" but later changed his mind and move closer to the USSR to fight "predatory western capitalism". Publicly, he is a tycoon and scientist loyal to the United States and works closely with the government. The world's greatest philanthropist. Loving father and husband. Hates Superwoman to death and believes she spells the end of humanity. Paranoid and ruthless but convinced that he does everything for the greater good.

art by https://www.deviantart.com/gus-art

General Zod & Faora

Political dissidents like the El on Krypton on the other hand believed that Krypton's only salvation lay in emigrating and invading, terraforming, and exterminating other planets. They almost succeeded in a coup d'état but after their failure they and their henchmen tried to flee by space jumping their ships, Jor-El managed to sabotage the launch and send them to the Phantom Zone. Over the years they managed to escape and arrived on Earth in 1946, shortly after Clara showed herself to the world as Superwoman. They tried to exterminate all humanity, but Superwoman and the armies of Earth managed to defeat them. Their invasion caused 5,000 human casualties but could have caused complete extermination. The experience was traumatic for Clara because she had to send Zod and Faora back to the Phantom Zone where they would surely die. Zod, Faora and their henchmen had not yet developed the full powers of a yellow sun like Earth's and so several of them were killed by human bombs and missiles. Their remains were stored by Russians and Americans. Superwoman managed to expel all Kryptonian technology and weaponry into space so that humans would not use it for warfare.

Doomsday

A truly near-indestructible abomination.

Perhaps from Krypton's past? Perhaps created by mistake by human scientists?

art by https://www.deviantart.com/fernando-damasio & https://www.deviantart.com/kristherion

The Toyman

Winslow Schott, former entrepreneur, and inventor of the 1920s toy business who was ruined in the Great Depression by banks and various betrayals. After a crime spree he was imprisoned in 1933 but escaped from prison recently completely crazed and ready to take revenge on the whole city using his inventions.

Brainiac "The Eternal Traveller"

An android resulting from the abhorrent merger of a famous astronaut and artificial intelligence, which was used by the first civilization of Krypton to collect information from other worlds. It is more than 100,000 years old. With the passage of time, he revealed against the Kryptonians, became evil and phobic to any form of life that he considered imperfect or inferior. It caused the destruction of many cultures. He wanders through space visiting planets and analyzing life forms. He probably has no enthusiasm for humans, much less for a descendant of the House of El.

art by https://www.instagram.com/estefaniaart_/

art by https://www.deviantart.com/midnightowl07

art by https://www.deviantart.com/artsandar

art by https://akiko02.carrd.co/

art by https://www.deviantart.com/son-neko

art by https://www.deviantart.com/dommnics

You can download full free illustrated fanfic in pdf here! SUPERWOMAN FROM KRYPTON-FREE ILLUSTRATED FANFIC by lordmallory on DeviantArt or here SUPERWOMAN.pdf - Google Drive

[typingfool]

𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐃 ;; wednesday addams

Pairing ;; Wednesday Addams x fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday is the most affectionate when it's time to sleep, much to your dismay.

Warnings: one of Wednesday's death threats.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Maybe a bit OOC but I love that headcannon that Wednesday shows a bit of her soft side whenever she's sleepy, though to very certain people. Enjoy :)

You’ve been pestering Wednesday a healthy amount. Even avoiding your own friends to spend time with her, though, you seemed to have regretted that decision, just a little bit. 

In the bed of your girlfriend’s, you laid on your wing to the side, listening to the loud tune of Pathetique outside, as Enid chats with Ajax through the phone. The wing in which you laid on stayed motionless, asleep, that when you reached your hand to feel it, it didn’t feel like your own body, but instead someone else's'. 

Wednesday is doing her nightly cello playing, as she did when she first got here. You admired her passion, consistency, and dedication to her schedule. You admired her writing. You admired her creativity. You admired everything about her, flaws and all. You admired her. 

“You just don’t know how to show it,” Enid says loudly, probably referring to you more than she refers to Ajax. It made you grimace, seeing as your friend looked out for your emotions that weren’t shown much on display. “But, you know, I’ll notice anyway.” She continued. The feathers on top of your head, that certainly will get you a scolding from Mrs. Davidson, the second normie teacher to teach in Nevermore after the accident with Lauren Gates, felt as if they had melted and left two side-eyeing holes. 

“He doesn’t even know you notice.” You looked up, adjusting your position on Wednesday’s bed. It had been a couple of months ever since you were back in Nevermore. Ophelia Hall’s stayed the same, the sense of nostalgia hit your vision, making your wings flutter in response. 

Enid stood up from her bed, grabbing her pink snood from the end of her bed. Her hair, unlike before, was much longer now, reaching past her shoulders. Blue and pink are still evident at the ends of it. Her face is more developed yet keeping the innocent Enid Sinclair charm (as Eugene would call it). 

“I’m going to Ajax’s dorm,” She secured her phone in her pocket, rummaging through her closet as she pulled out a blue snood. You couldn’t protest with what she said, since the werewolf always deserts you every time, she pries you about something. She left a bunch of clothes on her bed, making it look like gnomes vomited rainbows. “Talk to her,” Enid motioned her head to the window, referring to Wednesday. “And call me when you both are done making out.” 

You stood up from your position swiftly, almost making you black out. “You mean making up!” You half-yelled, vision still blurred though enough to see that Enid has gone with the door closed. 

As if on cue, Wednesday walked through the spider-like glass, a squeak of noise echoing in the dorms. Her hair still tightly kept in her signature braids, one on each side, both equally parted. Her small, scattered, and cute freckles were much, much visible – probably due to the lack of makeup she wore today. 

Speaking of wearing, the clothes she wore are always black. This time she wore a comfortable black tee shirt (she learned her lesson to never wear white shirts over black bras years ago, not that she was going to wear the color white again) and parachute-like pajama, black pants. “Stare at me like that again and I’ll poke your eyes out.” She threatened, papers held in her hand, though from your perspective, they were weapons. 

“Sorry… you’re just-” You stopped mid-sentence, a grimace forming in your lips, a small one so as to not drift the conversation apart quickly. “I haven’t been this near you in a while.” 

Wednesday’s eyes bore into yours. “I’m 2 meters apart from you.” She didn’t waste any time walking closer, not to you though. She placed her musical sheets in a category of folders, each one of them either being black or transparent. 

“Wednesday,” You called, not to test her emotions or lack of eye contact, to simply call your girlfriend. “You say you’re allergic to colors… how does that work?” You asked cautiously, as she dipped down the bed next to you. Your wings fluttered, wrapping around her side subconsciously. She didn’t pull back, leaning in against the soft feathers. 

Wednesday began undoing her braid. “I’m not allergic to it.” She answered in a soft tone, yawning under her hands right after. “Just have a different reaction to it than everybody else.” She explained, she stood up to place the hair tie on her desk. She dipped back down her bed, pushing your wing aside carefully as you stood up. She laid on her side, not staring at you. 

You didn’t want to pester her any further, although you remembered Enid’s words; talk to her.

In response to her answer, you questioned. The thick air was choking back your questions. At the simplest and shortest eye contact from Wednesday, you wanted to continue. “Why?” was all you could ask, short and curios were your tone. Interested filled your smile.

“Don’t,” She started, gazing down her lap. “Smile like that.” Wednesday stood up from her lying position, crossing her legs. Her eyes locked down her pants, minding their own business. 

Wednesday Addams, nothing like her sweet mother from what you’ve witnessed during vacation, she wasn’t exactly like her father too. She is Wednesday. She did not inherit after her parents’, but, as her own personality. The girl who was prophesied to kill an entire school, the girl who changed that said prophecy. 

She is brilliant. And you remembered yourself, following after Lauren Gates through the cave. You remember yourself freezing when she was stabbed, not knowing exactly what to do. And a ghost, much like Wednesday herself, healed her every wound. Seeping in through her. 

You could still feel Goody Addams in Wednesday Addams. You felt the stronger push and pull through her heart. And it felt even more promising as you are talking to her right now. Wednesday’s energy is strong and complex. Right now, it’s at ease. And it was evident in her body language, shoulders relaxed, legs crossed with one another. 

If it didn’t seem like she’s relaxed. Her heavy eyelids were about to shut though she kept it awake, certainly spoke for themselves. “You should sleep,” You whispered, pulling yourself up from the bed, sighing. You could talk to her tomorrow. And you could call Enid tomorrow, as well. If she isn’t in the detention office already. 

“Must you go?” Wednesday pulled you lightly from the wrist, showing the frailty in her tone. Sleep caught on with her looks now. 

You shook your head, sitting down on the bed, facing her this time. “I can stay…” Your voice trailed, then, you remembered you were talking to an Addams. “If you want me to.” 

Wednesday looked conflicted but gave a sharp nod. Her eyes drifted to your wings, leaning in before giving them a light touch. “It’s so soft.” She whispered; voice sleepy. Her body weight leaned in against you. “Why is it so soft?” 

You laid down to your side, tapping on your wings for room. Wednesday stared down at you, before she laid down. “They’re called down feathers, y’know like the clouds.” You answered, softly kissing her hair, the bridge your nose tickled. 

Your hands were wrapped around her. She kissed your palms lightly. “Sleep.” She commanded and you could not help but oblige. Your wings wrapped around your body and Wednesday's, like a blanket. 

The personal warmth cuddled around the room. Before closing off into your dreams, Thing sat on the table. “G’night, bud.” You say, smiling as he formed a small heart with his fingers.

The next day, Enid was in the detention office, smiling as you passed by.

[weemssapphic]

Would you be willing to write Larissa Weems x nb!teacher!reader smut (still female anatomy though, but without a focus on r’s chest please) where they are watching the school play/musical and Larissa starts teasing reader? Like caresses on the inside of r’s thigh, inching dangerously close to their clit, etc., to the point that they have to leave to go fuck it out somewhere else (you can choose where exactly). And if you could, maybe strong praise kink with dom!Larissa? I love your writing so much omg omg omg it’s so good!!

hello! thank you for the request, and the compliment! <3 i had fun writing it so i hope you have just as much fun reading it and that it lives up to your expectations. also Enid is clearly my favorite Nevermore student so SUE me lmao. as always, ao3 link is in the title! ^^ warnings/content: nsfw (cunnilingus - Larissa receiving, fingering - reader receiving), dom!larissa, teasing/edging, semi-public sexual activity, praise kink, mentions of marking/scratching

words: ~3.9k

when the lights go down

“Hey, you’re gonna do great, okay? I promise!” Enid was practically trembling under your gaze, eyes wide, and you pulled her into a tight hug. As the teacher in charge of Ophelia Hall, you’d grown close to the young girl in your past year at Nevermore. She saw you as a bit of a mentor, often staying after class to help you clean up your classroom and ask you for advice, which you happily gave her - she reminded you a bit of your childhood best friend. You found yourself biting back wide grins as she would recount the latest gossip about her peers, always bursting with more energy in a single second than you thought you’d ever had in your entire life.

Other students bustled around the two of you as you stood backstage, when the lights out in the auditorium began to dim. 

“I gotta go okay, and you’d better get back in the dressing room. Break a leg, kid,” you gave her a final smile and pushed her towards the girl’s dressing room, waving to some of your other students who were huddled behind the curtain and giving them a thumbs up before sneaking out the back. You hurried your way through the hallways and slipped into the auditorium, scanning the rows for a place to sit.

The entire front row was reserved for the teachers and your heart skipped a beat at the fact that the only empty seat left was next to none other than your boss, Larissa Weems. 

“Hi,” you were breathless when you arrived at the seat. “Is this seat taken?”

“I should hope so,” Larissa looked up at you, her smile blinding, gesturing for you to sit.

“Enid’s very nervous,” you whispered in her ear, committing the way her eyes crinkled at the outer corner to memory.

“Miss Sinclair will be excellent. I’ve played Audrey myself, in fact -”

Oh? You wanted to probe her further on this revelation, but your conversation was cut short by the overture of that night’s show - Little Shop of Horrors.

The students were fabulous of course. Enid had nothing to worry about - the second she began her solo in “Skid Row (Downtown)”, you knew her worries were for naught. You couldn’t help but glance up at the blonde sitting next to you, wondering how she might have sounded in the same part. She was watching the stage with rapt attention, lips parted slightly, eyes sparkling.

Your cheeks warmed as sapphire eyes met yours in the darkness - you’d been caught staring. You averted your gaze back to the stage, trying your hardest to focus on your students and the production they were putting on - not that it wasn’t spectacular, truly. But your thoughts kept wandering back to a certain blonde principal, whose body heat you could practically feel radiating off of her at such a close proximity.

To how she would look gracing the stage with her regal presence, to how her angelic voice would sound crooning out some melody or other (you hadn’t known she could sing, foolishly hadn’t presumed she was into musical theater - what else didn’t you know about her?). To how lovely she looked tonight, a string of pearls kissing the smooth skin of her neck, a cream-colored dress caressing every curve of her body.

Christ, stop it. You chanced another glance at the blonde - only to realize she wasn’t watching the musical at all. She was watching you, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Larissa?” You felt utterly exposed under her gaze. 

“I feel I’ve flustered you,” she whispered, ducking her head so no one else would hear her. You could see amusement sparkle in her eyes.

“I’ve just been trying to picture you as Audrey this whole time,” you whispered back, reveling in the giggle she had to suppress at your comment. You’d never heard Larissa Weems giggle before, much less been the reason for a giggle of hers - you wanted to commit the sound to memory, to take it to your grave as a treasured gift.

“I knew it,” she smirked. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it sometime, darling.” You couldn’t help but notice how her voice dropped a bit at the pet name, subtly yet still noticeably. She placed a reassuring hand just above your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, and it took every ounce of willpower not to openly shiver at the touch. 

You turned your attention back to the stage, acutely aware of how Larissa’s thumb began to trace soothing circles on the inside of your thigh. At first, you weren’t sure she was aware she was doing it, when you peered at her out of the corner of your eye and she was watching the current song “Mushnik & Son” as if it were the most riveting thing she’d ever seen.

It soon became apparent, however, that she was more than aware of her actions, when her hand shifted higher on your thigh, subtly but definitely higher. Her thumb pressed insistently into the flesh of your inner thigh and you had to suppress a moan, cheeks burning brightly in the dark auditorium. 

Ms. Thornhill, who was sitting to your right, turned to look at you with furrowed brows, and you sputtered out a weak cough in an attempt to conceal the moan that had peeled from your chest moments before. 

You were disappointed to note the sudden absence of Larissa’s hand on your leg, cursing yourself for ruining the moment. Great. Now she won’t touch you for the rest of the evening.

“Sorry, Marilyn, I think I’m getting sick,” you shot her an apologetic glance, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Her eyes searched your face for a moment before her features softened, her hand giving your shoulder a sympathetic squeeze before she turned her attention back to the stage. You let out a defeated sigh and slumped back into your seat, stewing in your own misery at the desperate, building ache between your thighs. 

The fabric of your slacks shifted slightly as Larissa’s fingers returned to their former position, continuing their tantalizing ministrations. What was Larissa doing? Surely this woman would be the death of you… Her palm was warm against your leg and a fresh wave of arousal pooled at the apex of your thighs as you shifted in your seat in an urgent attempt to gain some sort of friction to relieve the tension building in your core.

Larissa’s hand caressed the top of your thigh, stopping just shy of your center, coming to rest. She leaned back in her seat as Enid began to croon out “Somewhere That’s Green” and you huffed in frustration, the coil behind your navel wound tight. You glowered up at Larissa until she finally, mercifully, looked down at you, eyes darkened with desire.

You bucked your hips up into her hand, forcing her fingertips to brush against your clit. She sucked in a breath, eyes darting down to your lap then up to the stage, as if contemplating something.

Her lips brushed against your ear, breath fanning across your neck, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as goosebumps erupted on your skin. Her voice was low and breathy as she murmured in your ear. “Follow me in 2 minutes, darling.”

With that, she stood and left the auditorium. You watched her go, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, slightly dizzy as you wrestled with your own desire. 

The longest 2 minutes of your life.

Once you were sure you’d waited long enough, you followed Larissa’s path out of the auditorium. As soon as the door swung shut behind you, a pair of strong arms pinned you to the wall of the hallway and a warm mouth latched onto your skin, peppering open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Larissa’s body pressed flush against yours, trapping you between her and the wall.

“Rissa,” you whimpered as one of her thighs came between yours and pressed into your center. You felt as if you were burning alive from the inside, desperate for her touch and already absolutely drenched.

“Shhh,” Larissa silenced you with a searing kiss, swiping at your lips with her tongue. You moaned into her mouth and she nipped gently at your lower lip. 

“Come with me,” Larissa threaded her fingers between your own, the close contact sending a shiver up your spine, and began a brisk pace down the hallway. You followed in a daze, hardly able to believe your luck. 

You’d harbored a crush on the woman since you’d started at Nevermore. Well… to call it a crush would be a bit of an understatement. You were quite sure you were in love with her. Everything about her drew you in - the soft, almost maternal smiles she would give passing students, the little creases that would form between her eyebrows when she was deep in thought, the way she seemed to be able to calm your nerves with nothing more than a hand on your shoulder and a whispered praise in your ear.

But she was your boss, for fuck’s sake. Not to mention intelligent, stunning, put-together, a consummate professional… Why would she be interested in you? And yet here she was, dragging you down the hallway to… your own classroom? 

Larissa fished her master key out of the pocket of her blazer and unlocked your door, all but pushing you into the classroom, locking the door behind the two of you.

“Don’t you look simply divine tonight?” Larissa husked, inching towards you like a tiger stalking their prey. You stepped back out of instinct, bumping into your desk. You couldn’t even the count the number of times you’d sat at that very desk, picturing yourself bent over it as Larissa towered over you, fucking you into oblivion. And here you were…

You gulped audibly, every nerve-ending in your body alight, heat pooling in your core. Larissa’s pupils were wide, eyes darkened with lust in a way you’d only seen in your wildest fantasies. 

She stopped in front of you, her breath warm and delicious on your face, raising the hairs on your arms. “I have wanted you since I first met you, my darling.” You whimpered, reaching out desperately and rather pathetically to pull Larissa towards you by the lapels of her blazer, rushing to crash your lips together. You felt the blonde smile against your lips, her hands coming to rest on your waist. 

“Tell me, can you be good for me tonight? Do you want this just as much as I do?” Her whispers against your lips shot straight to your cunt.

“Yes, Larissa, god yes. I want this.” Larissa smirked, sliding the blazer from her shoulders to reveal bare arms, pale skin dusted with light freckles that you’d never been privy to before. You traced them with your eyes, struck by the sudden sense of intimacy you felt clawing at your heart. 

A whimper clawed its way from your throat as a warm hand cupped your cheek, forcing your eyes to meet sapphire pools, swimming with lust. The pad of her thumb grazed over your bottom lip, dragging it down then letting go, her eyes watching intently as it snapped back into place.

You found yourself white-knuckling the desk behind you in an attempt to keep your knees from giving out as Larissa’s fingers began to toy with the button of your slacks, her teeth sinking into her lip in question. “May I?” 

“Do you have to ask?” Your voice was hoarse as you tried to rasp out an answer. The salacious smirk you received in return had you nearly melting on the spot, and Larissa wasted no time in dragging the slacks down your legs, nails raking at tender flesh on their way down. 

Larissa pulled you in for a heated kiss, teeth and tongues clashing, picking you up to set you on the edge of your desk. She rounded the desk until she was behind you, pulling you back against her until you could feel the swell of her breasts pressing deliciously into your back. 

Larissa’s hot breath ghosted over your neck as she nibbled on your earlobe, before her lips latched onto your pulse point. Her hands soothed over your torso, moving lower and lower until her right hand finally dipped between your thighs, knuckles brushing the damp patch at the center of your underwear. You felt a groan from Larissa’s chest vibrate against your spine.

“So wet already and I haven’t even touched you yet?” The low timbre of her voice caused a fresh wave of arousal to leak out of your core.

“Larissa, I-I need you, you have no idea,” you hissed as her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear and teased your entrance.

“I think I may have an idea, my darling,” the blonde cooed, finally applying the pressure you’d been searching for as she swiped two fingers up your slit. You moaned, bucking your hips up just as her fingers reached your throbbing clit.

She began to massage the bundle of nerves, drawing a series of moans from your lips as her own lips focused on your neck, your jaw, your shoulder, leaving little bite marks which she soothed with her tongue.

“Rissa, please, I need more,” you gasped, rolling your hips in time with her fingers in search of more friction. 

You could feel Larissa’s smile against the bare skin of your shoulder as her fingers dipped lower, spreading your folds on their way to your dripping hole. She dipped the tip of a finger into your entrance, immediately letting out a groan directly into your ear.

“I love how wet you are for me.” Her finger dipped further into your core, pumping slowly in and out, before adding a second finger, stretching you out.

“You take me so well, my love,” Larissa cooed, her thumb coming up to continue drawing languid circles around your aching clit. Long, slender fingers curled into your sweet spot and you arched into Larissa’s touch, hips twitching. 

Larissa could sense that you were getting close as your walls began to clench around her fingers, drawing them further into you, as your thighs began to tremble. She withdrew her fingers from your cunt, tracing your entrance with the pads of her fingers as she slowed her pace on your clit to languid strokes.

You whined at the loss of contact, bucking your hips up as the coil behind your navel twisted almost painfully.

“What do you say, darling?” The blonde teased.

“P-please,” you didn’t care how desperate you sounded, you needed Larissa inside of you again.

“Please, what?” She peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, fingers gliding through your wetness so lightly you almost felt you were imagining her touch.

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately rutting your hips against the air. “Please fuck me, I-I need you inside.”

Larissa’s fingers pressed more firmly now, giving in and providing you with more friction. She slid back inside you, curling her fingers just so as her thumb circled your clit.

“Right there,” you panted out between moans. “Faster.”

Larissa obliged, adjusting her pace as she added a third finger. You teetered on the verge of your orgasm, thrusting your hips up to meet her fingers, thighs twitching. The air between the two of you was charged with electricity, your body tingling from head to toe.

“That’s it my darling,” Larissa cooed, and you let out a low whine, your pussy clenching around her fingers. “You like being called mine?” You felt more than heard Larissa’s low chuckle as you nodded against her. You would be hers in whatever capacity she would allow it, in whatever capacity she wanted or needed you to be. 

“You’re doing so well for me,” she murmured. “Can you come for me?” Reaching behind you, you grasped at Larissa’s shoulders to steady yourself as you reached your high, thighs quivering as a string of obscenities dripped from your lips.

Larissa’s left hand was splayed across your stomach, pulling you firmly into her, grounding you as you rode out your climax. Her lips were on your ear, whispering faint praises that were lost on you in the moment, too focused on steadying your breathing.

“You look so ravishing when you come undone like that,” Larissa whispered in your ear as your breathing slowed. You turned your head, fingers twisting into the blonde’s silvery strands to pull her in for a bruising kiss.

She brought her fingers up to her lips, shining with the evidence of your orgasm. Her tongue swirled obscenely around the digits and she let out a guttural moan, immediately pulling you in for another kiss so you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“Fuck, Larissa, I need to taste you.” You watched the grin unfold on Larissa’s face as she dragged you towards the edge of the desk, sitting back in your desk chair - your desk chair, the one you sat in 5 days a week and would surely never see the same way again. She hiked her dress up around her waist, hooking her fingers around the waistband of her white lace panties and dragging them down her legs to reveal her own glistening arousal.

“Come here and take care of me, then,” Larissa husked, and you were off the desk and perched on your knees between her legs within seconds. After pressing alternating kisses up the insides of Larissa’s thighs, you flattened your tongue and dragged it slowly up her cunt. 

“Just like that, right there,” Larissa breathed. Your lips closed around her clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, pleased with the low whine you were able to elicit from the blonde.

She draped her thigh over your shoulder, the tip of her heel digging sharply into your back, a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. Your arms wrapped around her legs to steady yourself, surrounding yourself in Larissa.

“That feels so good, darling,” she moaned as she writhed beneath you, fucking herself on your face. You lapped at Larissa’s core, letting out unrestrained moans as you were finally given the pleasure of being able to taste the woman’s sweet nectar. The heat of her on your tongue only fueled your own carnal desire.

Larissa’s breath hitched in her chest as your tongue dipped into her entrance. “You know exactly how to make me feel good,” she breathed, her hands weaving themselves into your hair, fingernails scratching at your scalp.

You groaned into her pussy, the vibrations drawing heavenly sounds from her throat. Gazing up at her, you were in awe of her blissed out face, eyes screwed shut, head thrown back in ecstasy, mouth hanging open. Her cheeks were flushed the most adorable shade of pink and you felt wickedly proud of yourself in that moment to be the one bringing Larissa to the height of her pleasure.

Suddenly, Larissa’s hand pulled at your hair and forced you to still your movements. 

Larissa had stilled above you, her attention turned towards the door of your classroom. You strained your ears, unable for a moment to focus on anything but the dizzying sensation of Larissa Weems on your tongue, Larissa’s skin pressed against yours.

But then you heard it, the hallway flooding with students. The musical must be over by now, everyone must be heading out of the auditorium. Would anyone come looking for you? Or for Larissa? Surely no one had even noticed the two of you were gone. Right? In any case, it was too late now. 

Your eyes wandered back to the principal, who was gazing down at you with a fresh sense of unadulterated hunger - cheeks flushed, chest heaving. 

“Are you going to finish what you started?” Her voice was low and raspy, barely audible above the ruckus of students and staff just outside the door.

You were all too happy to oblige, bringing your tongue back to Larissa’s center. She rolled her hips against your face, pressing her heel firmly into your upper back as her thighs began to twitch around your head. 

“Make me come, love,” Larissa whispered, letting out a series of soft, breathy moans. Your gaze traveled up her body and you let out a loud groan when you caught her kneading her breasts, rolling and pinching her clothed nipples between her fingers. 

“Shhh,” Larissa cooed softly, “Can you be quiet for me, love? We wouldn’t want anyone catching us.” You whimpered and nodded softly, though from the smirk Larissa was giving you, you were quite sure that she was at least a little bit turned on by the illicit nature of your situation.

“I’m s-so close,” Larissa gasped quietly, and you could tell that she was by the erratic way her hips bucked against your face, the way her heel slipped a little on your back, scratching at your skin, the way her thighs began to tremble, closing around your ears. She was losing her composure, and you were absolutely drunk on the sight.

You flicked and sucked at her clit as she came, her hands weaving themselves back into your hair to push you farther into her center, breath quickening above you. You licked at her core, gladly drinking up every drop of arousal she had to offer as she rode out her high until, finally, her thighs loosened their grip around your head and she sank back into your office chair. 

When you looked up at her, she gazed down at you through heavy-lidded eyes, lipstick smudged around her mouth, a blissed-out smile playing on her face. Her hand came to cup your cheek, thumb grazing over your lips before she pulled you up for a kiss, mewling into your mouth as she cleaned her own essence off your chin. 

“I suppose we’ll have to wait here until everyone has gone back to their dorms,” you teased as you straddled Larissa’s lap, eager to be as close to her as possible. Larissa hummed in agreement, pressing her forehead against yours. 

The two of you breathed in tandem, simply enjoying being in the other’s company as the din in the hallway slowly faded. Larissa’s hands pressed into your back, dipping under the hem of your shirt and pulling you against her while your fingers traced patterns across the freckles on her shoulders.

“You’re stunning, Larissa,” you whispered into the crook of her neck. She craned her head back slightly to peer down at you, a faint hint of amusement glittering in those gorgeous, sapphire eyes. 

“I could say the same about you, love,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair and pulling you possessively close. “However, as much as I would love to spend the night ravishing you, it is getting a bit uncomfortable here.”

“Hey, you’re the one who ordered these chairs for our classrooms,” you grinned up at her, raising an eyebrow in defiance. 

“That was before I realized I’d be fucking you in one, Y/N,” Larissa replied dryly, ushering you off her lap and smoothing her dress. You dressed almost numbly, unable to take your eyes off the blonde for too long, turning her words over in your head.

The two of you made your way to the door of your classroom. “Larissa?”

“Yes?” Her voice was gravelly with desire as she smirked down at you, fingers threading through yours to pull you down the hallway in the direction of her own quarters.

You cleared your throat and quirked your brow, trying to play it cool. “I believe you said something about ‘spending the night ravishing me’?”

“Oh, darling, you didn’t think I was done with you?”

x

thank you to the bestest writing buddy @afeatherformills for helping me edit this and work out some things!

[thebowerypresents]

Angie McMahon – Music Hall of Williamsburg – March 21, 2024

Australian singer-songwriter Angie McMahon makes the kind of relatable, guitar-fueled folk-rock that’s seen her open for the likes of Father John Misty and the Shins. But thanks to her excellent sophomore studio album, last fall’s Light, Dark, Light Again, she’s now out on her own headlining tour of North America, which brought her to a sold-out show at Music Hall of Williamsburg on Thursday.

(Angie McMahon plays The Sinclair in Cambridge, Mass., on 3/26.)

Photos courtesy of Savannah Lauren | @savannahlaurenphoto

[the-broken-truth]

Wednesday Wants To Collar Enid [Part 1]

Yandereish Wednesday Addams - After The Crackstone Incident - Before Leaving For Rest Of The Semester - Weems Is Still Alive - Wenclair

[Enid walks into her dorm in Ophelia Hall with wireless Bluetooth earbuds in her ears while jamming music from Seventeen with a smile on her face when she sees Wednesday standing in the middle of the room with her hands behind her back - her eyes locked with Enid's the moment she enters the room.]

Enid (Pulls one of the earbuds from her ear and pauses the music): Hey, Willa. Is everything alright?

Wednesday (Walking over to Enid with her hands still behind her back): Enid Sinclair, when we first met, I thought you were the missing piece of sunlight that had wandered too far from home. Now, I realize that you are the light that was destined to brighten my darkness. Unfortunately, I have fallen victim to the Addams Curse, which has chosen you to be my other half. Although I have no objections to this fact, there is something I need to make clear. Not to you, but to others who seem to misunderstand their place in the presence of greatness.

Enid (Raises an eyebrow): What are you talking about, Willa?

Wednesday: It has come to my attention that some people don't understand that you belong to me and me alone - like that Werewolf Harlot that got all in your face the moment you presented yourself as a Blood Moon Alpha and tried to throw herself at you.

Enid: Werewolf Harlot? You mean Chrissie?

Wednesday: I am angry with her. She had the audacity to stand before you as if she was worthy of breathing the same air as you. Although I feel the urge to harm her, I understand that you would not approve of such behavior, Cara Mia. Therefore, I will refrain from acting on my emotions. In order to prevent possible deaths and further misunderstandings, please accept this. (Pulls a black gift box wrapped in a grey ribbon from behind her back and holds it out to Enid)

[Enid takes the box from Wednesday's hands and uses her claws to tear open the wrapping paper and lifts the cardboard lip to see what is inside. A black leather collar with diamond fragments embedded in it with a metal tag rests on a velvet cushion in the box. The tag is engraved with the following inscription: "Enid Sinclair - Property of Wednesday Addams"]

Enid (Looks at the collar - eyebrow twitches - looks up at Wednesday): Willa, what the hell is this?

Wednesday: I'm staking my claim on you to make sure no one takes what belongs to me. Wear the collar.

Enid: Wednesday, I am not wearing a damn collar. I'm not a dog.

Wednesday: Wear the collar, Enid. (Takes a step towards Enid)

Enid: Hell no, Addams.

Wednesday: Enid... Either you wear the collar willingly or I shall place it around your neck myself.

Enid: You'll never take me alive, Wednesday Addams!

[Enid throws the collar and gift box in Wednesday's direction, causing the Addams Heir to grab it before it hits the ground. Enid turns on her heel and bolts for the door, throws it open, and runs out of Ophelia Hall.]

Wednesday (Runs into the hall): GET BACK HERE, ENID SINCLAIR! YOU WON'T GET AWAY FROM ME! (Chases after Enid)

[fastlikealambo]

national anthem:older!steve x black fem!reader

summary: steve harrington is running for president of the united states as the democratic nominee. he's polling well, people like him because he actually intends to keep his campaign promises, he's got great hair and a cute dog.

there's one problem: he doesn't do relationships, he's been seen doing the walk of shame too many times and his campaign manager has had enough. he needs a wife, or a least someone to smile and wave his messy ass through election season before disappearing into obscurity.

that's where you come in.

you're a sweet virgin kindergarten teacher who looks like disney animated birds help you get dressed in the morning. on paper you're perfect for the job and you have student loan and medical debt so you will silk press and laugh your way to the democratic national convention.

here's the thing:

you can't stand his pompous ass and he gets all tongue tied and sweaty when he gets within 2 feet of you.

it's gonna be a long fucking campaign.

bonus: here's two songs that are the background music in this chapter. can you figure out which song goes with what scene? I'd love to know your guesses.

angel - halle bailey

death of me - pvris

chapter one: washington, d.c.

“They’re calling you The Future Slut in Chief, Steve.”

Erica threw a paper in Steve’s lap, pinching the bridge of her nose before sinking into a chair to drink her iced coffee,  the only thing to keep her from reaching across the table and throttling the future President of The United States.

Steve looked down at The New York Post, a picture of him in his boxers leaving someone’s apartment dead center. He shrugged, putting his feet on the table and leaning back in his chair. 

“I look great and besides it’s the New York Post, nobody reads The New York Post, Sinclair. After the speech today no one will give two shits about that, nothing to worry about.” He said, shoving his sunglasses back on his face to block out the fluorescent lighting.

Four more newspapers with nearly identical pictures knocked the sunglasses right off his face and the forty year old nearly fell out of his chair.

“You can’t throw things at me, that’s treason.”

“Not yet.” Erica said sweetly.

“They’re making fancams of you and I quote, ‘ your slutty little waist.” Holly Wheeler said, Erica’s assistant said with a giggle, showing her boss her phone, the same bridge of some Cardi B. song filling the conference room over and over again.

“Send me that to me, won’t you Holly?” Steve said, reaching for his coffee.

“Do not send that to him Holly.” Erica sighed, pushing Steve’s legs off the table before standing up.

“Look Harrington, I joined this campaign because I believed in you. You had feasible ideas, a moral compass, the hair of a Kennedy and so much money I sometimes want to call the IRS for fun.”

“What was that last one-

“Never mind that. Everything about you screams all american but because you don’t have a partner or spouse,  to the general public it also screams ‘I may or may not have people in my basement.’ Nobody likes a single male president.”

“James Buchanan never married.” Steve grumbled.

 Steve Harrington didn’t do relationships, he had his fun every night, came home to his dog and empty apartment and focused on doing some good in his community with the outrageous inheritance his father left him. 

 There was no time for wives or husbands and that’s exactly how he liked it. 

“James Buchanan thought a dime was enough money to live on so maybe not the best example. Steve, you have a chance to be the next leader of this country but doing the walk of shame at your prehistoric age is not going to get the votes you need.”

Erica was absolutely right but Steve would be damned if he said so.

 “You need someone at your side for the last leg of the campaign and I’ve taken care of it. She’s been checked out and briefed, you’ll meet her on stage tonight when you introduce her, I’ve had Nancy edit your speech.”

“What the fuck Erica!” Steve yelled but Erica ignored him.

“She’s smarter than you, beautiful, and most importantly, she’s likable. So if you want to sit in the Oval Office for the next four years, you’ll wear the Tom Ford suit and act like this is the greatest love story ever told. You don’t have to talk to her outside of events if you don’t want to but you will do this. I have yet to fail you so trust that I can do the job you pay me handsomely for. Got it?”

No.

Absolutely not.

There was no way he was going through with this.

“To wrap up my speech so we can all get home safely, I want to introduce you to someone. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, to this campaign, to this country! I’m so proud to finally introduce my fiancée, let’s give her a big hand!” Steve said with a big smile at the cheering crowd, proud of the fact that he didn’t immediately vomit when the word fiancée came out of his mouth.

The click-clack of your heels coming up a staircase had Steve’s heart in his throat. At some point his clapping was no longer forced as he waited for the worst blind date of his life to appear on stage. 

“Get it together Harrington, turn on the charm for two minutes and get the fuck out of here.” He thought to himself.

He could handle this.

Two seconds later, he was wrong.

So, very, wrong.

If there were words to truly describe how beautiful you were, Steve did not know them. 

How could he?

How would ecstasy describe ecstasy?

Fuck.

Like Erica drilled into him a thousand times before the DC rally began, he reached out his hand to you, now enveloped in the scent of orchids and shea butter, and brought you into his arms for the world’s gentlest and fastest embrace. Your lips met with Steve’s cheek with a sweet laugh that made the crowd go wild as you pushed him forward towards the mic.

But no words came out.

That man was so busy looking at you he didn’t know the closing to his speech, the stump speech he had been giving for months now, the one he could recite in his sleep and accidentally yelled out during sex that one time.

A full ten seconds of uncomfortable silence with a sweaty man had you suddenly in front of the mic.

“I’m so happy to be a part of this once in a lifetime event supporting Steve! We’ve got a lot of work to do to get to the ballot box but we are ready to elevate and encourage our beautiful country towards a brighter future! Good night everyone, drive safe!” You nearly yelled into the mic, applause bursting through the audience.

You were quickly ushered backstage away from journalists, happy to get out as just as quickly as possible but Steve followed right with you.

“I-I had that back there!” Your fiance and future president choked out.

“Oh, so you can talk, wonderful! A thank you for saving your ass or a nice to meet you would suffice. I didn’t know a presidential nominee much less an adult man could drool like an infant but you’re full of surprises Mr. Harrington.” You said, rolling your eyes. 

“I was not drooling!”

“My shoulder’s all wet Mr. President.  Are we done here, can I go now?” You asked, turning your attention to Erica.

“I’m so glad you two are getting along! One more picture for all the socials and then you are free to go, Hopper and your security detail will make sure you get to your hotel safely.” Erica said, grabbing her phone for the picture.

“Big smiles, you two!”

You still couldn’t get over the fact that 24 hours ago, you were crying yourself to sleep wondering how you were going to pay your bills and get back on your insurance and now you’re prom posing with America’s Next Top Leader.

“I couldn’t have possibly drooled on you, you wanna know why?” Steve said through a frozen smile.

“Not really.”

“If I got the next First Lady of The United States all wet, you’d know, honey.” He whispered in your ear. 

Motherfucker.

Next stop: Maryland! I hope you enjoyed this, I’m not too sure if it's any good :)

[vikkirosko]

Can I request the sinclair brothers with a child wooden string puppet reader?

Reader is a wooden string puppet without strings, and able to levitate like she was pulled by stings, representing a little girl in a theater costume. Reader was just a normal puppet before, but after her and the theater she performed in was abandoned for a long time, she came to life.

The brothers came across the old theater that is quite well preserved for a building which was abandoned way before they were born. When they enter, they are welcomed by reader who says that she has waiting for humans to come for sooooo long. She wanted to show her her stage play, a musical, but since she doesn't have actors beside old and half broken puppets, it's not like she wanted it to be.

Reader has a quite hot temperament, and love to be praised and being the center of the attention.

What the brothers do and their reaction is up to you.

Thanks!

Sinclair Brothers x child fem!Reader Platonic headcanons Puppet

The Sinclair brothers rarely had free days, but they also had such days. It was during one of the boring days that they decided to go on a little exploration of the territory. They rarely left the city, so they were surprised when they found an old, abandoned theater outside the city. According to the sign, the theater was opened a long time ago and closed for a long time, but this theater looked good, for a building that was already more than fifty years old

Bo wanted to go back to Ambrose, but Vincent and Lester convinced him to look around inside. Inside, too, it wasn't so bad, despite the old age of the building. However, a much bigger surprise for them was you, literally flying out of the corridor. You were a wooden puppet in the form of a little girl in a theatrical costume without strings, but you soared as if you were held by strings. You greeted them joyfully, chirping that there had been no audience in your theater for a long time and that you were sincerely glad to see them

You took them to the theater hall, pushing them in the back. The Sinclair brothers were too surprised to see the puppet come to life, and you told them about how the theater used to be, about how you tried to keep it in good condition from the day you, abandoned here, came to life. However, in the theater hall, you began to wail that you would like to show them the best performance, but the other puppets were broken and this clearly caused you strong emotions. For you, this theater was your life and somehow you reminded the brothers of their mother, for whom her wax museum was more important than anything in the world

Vincent decided to help you since he had free time, even though Bo didn't see the point in it. Lester helped you fix things you couldn't fix yourself, and Vincent helped you fix puppets. You were delighted with it, levitating next to them, but even more emotions caused you that they praised you, even the fact that Vincent used small notes for this could not spoil your joy. You loved being praised and being paid attention to. They decided that the reason for this was that you had been completely alone for a very long time

For a long time they were just the three of them, but now they could communicate with you. You were a puppet, but when Lester told you about the wax museum, you were thrilled and wanted to see everything for yourself. For you, it was art, just like your native theater, and you loved art, catching fire with the idea that when new people come to the city, you will be able to show them your performances. They didn't tell you that they were killing people, but they doubted that it would be a big problem for you