#especially from louis' pov

[mrsdulac]

Claudia and Lestat

[percysheliey]

sigh finished my second watch of iwtv … sick and twisted with the was it raining louis???? daniel !!!! stop it !!!!!

[tonixe]

𝐏𝐎𝐕: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘'𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘/𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘'𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐅 + Drabbles

n.o.t.e.s - This has been floating around my head for months.

w.a.r.n - Sexual themes - exhibitionism and bits of voyeurism, dirty money, and fluff.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - Kenny x rich!fem reader

w.c. - 603

★ Kenny in this story is 18+. So don't attack me.

★ The Reader is 3 years older than Kenny.

★ SFW

You would be a literal angel sent from heaven for Kenny and Karen, a guardian for both of them.

You help them with their financial problems, help them buy groceries and food, and visit them to see that there okay, even with buying them clothes.

Their parents would definitely enjoy you visiting them and helping out.

Kenny would definitely brag about you to his friends.

POV: When Kenny is bragging about you, I would feel Eric should definitely be annoyed, "WE GET IT, KENNY!" just basically screaming at him.

Imagine you and Kenny walking into the school as the 'it' couple.

You would take him out to the different types of restaurants, just basically spending money on him, like who wouldn't.

Imagine Kenny's face lighting up from all the good food he ate, literally shoving that food down his throat.

Karen would love to be around you; you would be her idol. She would draw pictures of you and show you with admiration. You both would be total best friends though despite the obvious age difference.

★ NSFW

Being Kenny's Sugar Mommy would definitely be a perk; you have him in your hands, especially in his state of the class.

He would be just a phone call away.

Imagine being his SM, and your in your office just feeling pent up and wanting a release, and you had him take a right on your desk. Your moans are audible while you are basically half-dressed, your clothes on the floor, your eyes feeling heavy as he just cummed into you.

Money would just be paper toys with you; you would always take Kenny shopping and buy him cute little gifts from expensive shops, Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Dior, and Hermes.

You would shower him with beautiful clothing, and gifts basically making him your own Ken doll. Every time you saw him wearing the clothing you bought him, you just wanted him to fuck you right there and there, even in the dressing room.

⭑ Imagine you and Kenny were in a luxurious clothing store, and Kenny came out looking pretty and handsome and making you so fucking horny, and you just forced him back in the dressing room. The staff thought nothing wrong, but you guys were fucking inside the dressing room, just milking him dry. As you guys pulled in a heated makeout.

He withdraws from his muttering, "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Just shut up and make me cum" you whispered.

Then you guys finished, as you just pulled out your black card, paid for the items, and left with a big smile at Kenny while Kenny was flustered.

Imagine this, appearing out of nowhere, where you saw Kenny just hanging out with his friends and walking up to them, stealing Kenny from his group to suck him off in a random bathroom.

⭑ Your head bopping down on his dick, as your down on your knee, having him all disheveled. His whimpering and moaning just make you weak and wet. When he's reaching his orgasm, you just teasingly start licking his tip, pumping him. Just looking at him innocently as you jerked him.

As you slowly took off your panties, lowering yourself down on him, making him needy while he gripped your waist. Wrapping your hands around him as he thrust inside of your moist cunt.

Clapping sounds, moaning, and whimpering was heard in the bathroom.

Kenny would be submissive when you are near; he is your little plaything.

Kenny would worship everything about you; it would be an honor for him to screw you or even look at your body.

[fox-bee926]

My Tailor

Harvey Specter x fem!reader

Masterlist A/N: holy shit dudes I finally did it. It was hard and full of procrastination. But I did it. I might make another one. I might not. At this point consistency is a figment of my imagination. (not really edited don't come for me) Anyway! Enjoy! TW: suggestive talking, but only a bit of a joke. Nothing really scandalous or anything of the sort; Harvey being jealous Word Count: ~997 (nothing real crazy dw)

(Third POV)

Mike walks up to the door of Ms. Tailor’s Thread and Needle, business card in hand. The sign says closed, and the shop seems dark, but there is obvious movement. He is just about to knock on the door when it swings open. The woman seems very surprised when he stumbles back, rubbing his hands on his pants.

“Hello... Do you work here?”

“No, I sneak in just to eat my lunch.” 

Mike looks panicked for a moment, then composes himself. “By the sarcasm, I assume you do. I was sent by Harvey Specter. He has made his opinion on my suits very clear.”

“Of course he did, they’re terrible," Mike looks down, confused, thinking they were top of the line. "I’m Ms. Taylor, come on in.” Ms. Taylor opens the door wider, but keeps the sign flipped to closed. She smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress pants. “The other girls went out for lunch but Jessie told me I had a priority one booking. I’m going to assume that’s you.”

Mike walks into the shop and looks around. He stops in his tracks with a deer in headlights look. “Wait a minute, Harvey told me not to talk to you.”

“Did he now? Oh, don’t worry about him, honey. I promise he won’t mind.” The door shuts closed and Ms. Taylor turns the rest of the floor lights on as she grabs a small box of tools.

Mike goes to stand on the raised platform encircled by lights. “Are you sure? He seemed pretty... clear. Just as clear as his hating of my suits.”

“Positive, Mike. Now, let’s see what we’re working with. Oh, and please, call me Y/N.”

___

(Second POV)

You unlock the door to your shared apartment with Harvey. Mike had talked to you quite a bit about his time at Pearson Hardman. Especially how much of an ass Harvey had been to him. You had thought about talking Harvey into easing up on him, but in the end you decided against it. Harvey was bound to be upset hearing you two even talked at all. 

“He just said not to talk to you. No explanation or anything. I was worried that you had torn his suit or something.”

“I tore the buttons off one time, but that was completely non-work related. I’ll talk to him when I get home. For now, just say Jessie tailored you. Have a good day, hun, and good luck.”

You couldn’t lie, you were a bit upset that Harvey told his own associate not to let you tailor him. You had tailored every person even remotely close to Harvey, even Louis. However, Harvey’s jealousy was understandable. After Louis had not so subtly flirted with you, and not so subtly got his pockets’ seams ripped, Harvey was weary of sending his male coworkers to you for a suit.

The sound of the front door closing and your bag hitting the floor caught the attention of said Harvey Specter from the kitchen. As soon as your eyes met, he knew he was in trouble. Harvey waited patiently, wine glass in hand, in silence as you took your coat and heels off. Finally, you spoke.

“You told your own associate not to be tailored by me?”

“That little snitch. I knew something was up when he said Jessie had tailored him. You would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one.”

“That’s right. I would never send Jessie to tailor a priority one. I would never send anyone but myself to tailor a priority one, and you knew that. Yet, you were going to have Mike get a below-standard tailor job because you couldn’t handle your girlfriend hemming the pants of your coworker.” The more you talked, the more you realized just how angry you were. 

You and Harvey had had this conversation several times. You always said how you could handle yourself when male clients tried getting frisky (they always tried,) and Harvey said that he hates you getting so close to his male coworkers.

“This is- This is ridiculous! I shouldn’t have to ask you not to tailor my coworkers! I don’t like your hands being so close to their... inseam.” He made a confused face for a moment before going back to his rant. “How should I feel knowing that every man you tailor in New York feels your hands on him? How should that make me feel other than angry and very, very shitty?” His hands gripped the counter in frustration, and you copied the motion.

“You should feel angry. But you should also trust that the only thing I’m doing is poking a needle very close to their ‘inseam,’ as you put. I promise you, I can handle myself.” You reached across the counter and wrapped your hand around his.

Harvey hung his head, knowing he wouldn’t be getting anywhere. Also knowing, deep down, that he was overreacting a bit. “Fine. I’m sorry. But I’m still not going to recommend anyone unless absolutely necessary.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You walked around to his side of the counter and wrapped your arms around him, leaning your head against his back. He smelled of ballpoint pen and whatever cologne he decided to wear that day. You could never tell them apart, but you’d never tell him that.

After a minute or two he turned around in your arms and gently placed his hands on your face. 

“What would I do without you?”

“Not have the best tailored suits in New York City, at the very least.” You both chuckled and he placed a small kiss on your lips. “To be fair, I wouldn’t have the first clue how I would survive without you.”

“Well, for one you wouldn’t have the best kisser in New York City.” You let out a loud giggle and a few murmurs “oh really?” as he attacked your face with kisses of various weight. Finally, he left a passionate kiss on your lips, right where he started. He brushed a lock of hair out from in front of your face.

“What is a man without his best suit, anyways?”

[cellythefloshie]

;; meant for loving Dedicating this one to @hockeyboysimagines

Summary: Desperate to relax on the final long weekend before he has to return to St Louis, Vince and his best friend, Miles head out to the cabin for the weekend. Waiting in their tranquility, is Miles' baby sister, Samantha who keeps Vince on the verge of chaos as he has desperations of her own: to love her virginity before she goes off to university. Kinks & TW: male pov, original character, age-gap (5 years), situation ship, brother's best friend, virginity trope, teasing/banter, breast play (mild), missionary, protected sex, (i probably missed something here so please be sure to yell at me if I did) ABOUT THE OC: Face Claim: Sydney Sweeny Name: Samantha aka “Sam” aka “Sammy” aka "Princess". Is the little sister of Vince's friend Miles. Sam is 18 and is set to go off to college come fall while Vince is set to report to training camp. Word Count: 14k+

Listen to their playlist while you read.

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl @mp0625 @misunderstoodwerewolf @callsign-denmark @puckmaidens @xciciix @cixrosie

There were two things people knew Vince Dunn for and they were hockey and his love to party in the off-season. What they didn’t know, however, was that Vince loved to escape the chaos. He always had, ever since he was a kid, growing up back in Lindsay. There was a certain peace in it all. From the way the tall, green coniferous trees towered high into the gray and stormy skies, to the way the rain hit the windshield with its soft hollow drum, it all drew him away from the city. The cabin was one of his favorite places to escape before the hockey season, especially with the right company. 

Vince could have invited anyone to go with him, a teammate or the girl he was casually fucking ‌and they would have come. But he only invited one person, his best friend, Miles. The pair had grown up playing hockey together - sharing toothless grins back when you gifted them to the tooth fairy instead of going to the dentist and hoping they could splint it back into place. And while their careers had taken them down separate paths, they had always made the summer theirs. Together, at the cabin their families used to vacation at when they were kids, Vince knew he could relax and rejuvenate - and maybe pick up a hot chick at the beach - before the season began. 

But there would be no trips to the beach today. Not with how the rain was pouring down, leaving the cold wet rubber of his tires to slide over the winding Canadian highways that would narrow into roads of gravel and dirt. The slippery conditions left Vince gripping his steering wheel tight, but he wasn’t tense. He welcomed the calm that came with the rain, even if it wasn’t too kind to the car. 

He could always buy another one. 

The drive to the cabin was long, and he spent the entire time in silence. Vince listened to the rain as it fell, growing harder, then softer and harder again. Only for it to be drowned out by the rocks as his tire kicked them up and left them to scrape the paint on his car as he rolled to a stop in the driveway. The windshield wipers made their awful screech against the wet glass as he undid his seatbelt and leaned across his center console to look at the car parked beside him. The water against the glass distorted its body, but he could tell it was some kind of sedan in a color he didn’t like. And he knew it didn’t belong to Miles. He didn’t know whose it was, but he was going to find out real quick. 

Reaching into the backseat, he fisted the handles of his duffle bag. He lifted it with ease - he only packed enough for the weekend - and lifted it up over his head to keep his hair from the rain. But it didn’t stop the icy rain from soaking into his t-shirt and sending chills down the length of his spine. It left him dancing through the front door with zero consideration for knocking. This was like a second home to him. He didn’t need anyone’s permission, and he was curious. 

Miles didn’t mention that anyone else was coming when they had made the plans. And the last time Vince checked, Miles wasn’t seeing anyone. 

Tossing his duffel bag on the floor, he looked over the living room. No sign of life. 

“Mom?” He called out, knowing he wouldn’t hear his own mother calling back to him. Miles’ mother had been just as much a mother to him as his own, so it all slipped off his tongue with ease. 

“Dad?” He called out again as he kicked off one wet sneaker and then the other - still nothing. 

There was nothing in the kitchen either, as he walked on through. Vince even opened the fridge. Nothing. Whoever was there didn’t plan to stay long. 

His every footstep was quiet as he moved through the main floor and up to the spiral staircase that led up to the second story. There, he looked up and down the hall and didn’t notice a thing out of place. That was until he took a single step down and his bright eyes caught the familiar glint of the tarnished metal door handle in the sunlight. Peering up over the top step, he noticed every single door on the second floor was open, except for one. 

Samantha’s door. 

Little Sammy Fraser. Though she probably wasn’t so little anymore. He hadn’t seen her since St. Louis drafted him, and that was five years in the past now. She had been only thirteen then. And through Miles, she was the baby sister Vince had never wanted but would torment all the same. And after so long, it was due time he caused a little trouble again. 

Vince’s lips pulled back in a too-perfect troublemaker’s grin as he cracked his knuckles and took the quick steps onto the second-floor landing. It only took a single stride from the top of the stairs to reach for her door, his large hand gripping the cold handle and pushing it open without a single thought in his brain about why he shouldn’t. And then he saw the very reason he should have knocked. 

Samantha sat on the bed, once propped up against the pillows, she sat completely upright now. Her expression, mortified. Vince had caught her in nothing but a tight pair of denim shorts and a bright pink lace bra. The color alone would have been enough to make him stare. Her heavy cleavage - that he didn’t quite remember her having before - was the fixation of his stare. Even as she tried to cover herself with her arms, Vince’s gaze didn’t break. That was until he realized she wasn’t alone in the room. 

Beside the bed, half dressed though, Vince was sure that wasn’t always the case, was some lanky teenager. The guy couldn’t have been older than nineteen, his hair a mess, and his shirt lost somewhere in the room. It only took a second for Vince to conclude what was happening there, especially when he watched the panic on the kid’s face melt into relief when he realized that they had not been interrupted by her parents or Miles. 

“Who’s this?” the young man, if Vince would even call him that, questioned as he looked up from where he fastened his belt around his middle. 

It was a valid question. Vince wasn’t her brother, and he sure as hell wasn’t her parents catching them alone in her room. If it had been, the kid would have been as good as dead. Though, with Vince,  he still might be. 

“I could be asking you the same thing, dipshit,” Vince shouted back as he stepped into the room with no hesitation or regard for the fact that Samantha still sat nearly petrified on her bed. He didn’t dare look at her, not wanting to remind himself just what state of undress she was in. That was until he heard her broken words pierce the air. It drew his gaze up to her as he stepped towards the bed and fisted the young man’s t-shirt in his hand. Then, he threw it at him. 

“Vince don’t-” Samantha had said. 

Vince was quick to answer. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

But his firm words felt soft against his tongue. It felt swollen in his mouth at the sight of her sitting there on the bed, her blonde hair a mess that framed her features and hung over her bare shoulders. Vince held his breath, his eyes burning in their socket as he desperately fought to keep his eyes fixated on her face. On how her wide eyes were glassy with the threat of crying, and how her full bottom lips seemed to quiver. But he was but a man. A man with eyes that could clearly see all that tempted him. 

Samantha knelt on the bed, her shirt still lost. She was still bare from the waist up, except for the bright pink bra that he could only see glimpses of from behind her arms as she crossed them over her chest. It was her attempt at modesty, but it only emphasized her already eye-catching cleavage. The mere weight of her breast alone left the fabric looking flimsy as Vince’s bright eyes flickered over each swell. 

Vince had to choke out his next words. “Put a goddamn shirt on.”

In the time that Vince was staring, Sam’s guest had pulled on his shirt, but he had yet to make any attempt to leave. Vince’s skin went hot, his jaw going slack as his head leaned back on his shoulders. His shoulder rose and fell in a heavy sigh, and then as Sam groaned out his name in protest, Vince lurched at him. His hand fisted around the guy's shirt collar, his knuckles white as he tugged on the fabric and‌ pulled the lanky trespasser towards the bedroom door. 

Leaving Sam and her harsh words behind him, Vince moved back down the path he had come. Down the winding staircase, and through the kitchen before he came to the front door. The young man stumbled behind him. He tripped on the stairs and then his own feet, but Vince didn’t slow down. Vince would have dragged him all the way to the front door if he had to, and he only stopped when he came to the door. It was a brief pause, just long enough time to step into his sneakers before his free hand reached for the door handle and he stepped outside. 

The rain filled the gravel driveway with murky puddles that soaked into white socks as Vince shoved the uninvited guest out towards his car. He hadn’t given him the time to put on his own shoes, and for a moment Vince considered making him leave without shoes. It would have been a cruel thing, but only a small punishment for trying and failing to get into Samantha’s pants. But then, he would have to make up an explanation for the random, too-small pair of shoes to Miles. And he wasn’t going to rat on Sam. The embarrassment of him catching her would be punishment enough for her. 

Reaching back inside, Vince hooked his fingers around the shoes and tossed them out the door and into the driveway. It was a shame really, he had good taste, but it was satisfying all the same as he shouted, “If I see you around her again, I’ll kick your ass, kid.”

He scrambled for his shoes, but the rain had already soaked through his socks, and for a moment Vince met his eyes. They stood in the rain. Vince’s confident stare met the teenager’s terrified as they were both soaked by the downpour and then the man ran. He took off through a puddle with complete disregard for how wet he became and moved straight for the sedan, which Vince only saw now was some kind of Subaru. As he expected, the kid took off down the driveway like some kind of idiot and disappeared down the road before Samantha could reach the doorway behind him. 

“What the fuck? Vince!” was how she greeted him. 

Turning in place, Vince smiled, even if he knew he shouldn’t have. If she hadn’t been upset already, his smile was sure to do it as Vince turned in place to face her. 

Sam stood in the doorway, fully dressed now, which brought on a sigh of relief - even as she stepped out into the rain with him and placed both hands on his chest. She shoved him firmly, her soft features twisted into a scowl as the cold rain hit her. But she didn’t seem to care. She stood there, away from the cover of the awning, and let the rain soak her. Her straight blond hair began to kink and curl as it dampened, and her white linen blouse became damn near see-through as the rain sent it to cling to her curves. 

Again, Vince struggled not to stare. 

“I’m doing you a favour.”

“A favour? You just stranded me here!”

One of her arms reached out wide, gesturing to the now empty spot in the driveway, but Vince’s eyes fixated between her lips and her collarbone and glanced so subtly down to her breasts. 

“He was your ride, huh?”

“Ah yeah!” Her attitude only left him grinning further, and any guilt he might have gotten hearing he had gotten her stranded at the cabin with him and Miles for the weekend was gone. 

Vince took a step forward, his body nearly colliding with hers as he towered over her. He looked down, smirking as his dark, wet curls hung down into his eyes. “I’m your ride now.”

He watched as her hardened expression wavered. Sam was trying too hard to be tough. It was almost laughable. “You can’t just walk in here and-”

“And what?” He interjected, challenging Sam. It sent her face flushed with colour, but the rosiness of her cheeks paled with his next words. “You’re lucky it wasn’t your brother that found you.”

“Fuck,” her bright blue eyes shot open wide, “he’s on his way?”

“Should be here soon,” Vince spoke, his words kept their cockiness as one hand reached up to push back his wet curls, “he would have kicked that guy's ass, and you know it, Sammy.”

She could only nod as they stood there, so wet that the rain no longer phased them. Sam was stubborn and always had been. She was not ready to concede to him. And Vince? He liked to stir up trouble, even with his best friend’s sister.

“What were you thinking coming here with a guy like that?”

“Guy like that?” Sam scoffed in return, offended. 

The pout that took her features brought Vince to laughter. She couldn’t be serious, right? It was clear just by the car he drove and the shoes he wore, what kind of guy he was. Someone who was superficial, materialistic even, and put the thrill of his ride before the safety of his passenger. Vince didn’t like it, and Sam, well, she didn’t like what Vince was implying. That was clear in how her arms came up to cross over her chest. He knew it was something she did to show him just how unimpressed she was with him, but all Vince could focus on was her breasts. He could see them through her shirt. From the bright pink lace to each swell and the cleavage in between. 

“Believe me, I know the type,” Vince told her, his voice firm as he looked down at her. 

Her cheeks had flushed a brilliant shade of pink as embarrassment consumed her, and silence hung between them. Vince didn’t need her to say it to know that he was right, and she didn’t want to tell him. His smile only grew as they stood there, getting drenched by the rain. 

“That’s why you had him drive you all the way out here, didn’t you?” Vince had a bit of a laugh in his words. “So the guy could get in your pants without your parents getting in the way. I’d say I’m sorry, princess, but as I said, I did you a favour. The guy couldn’t find the clit if you drew him a map.”

Those should have been the words that ended the conversation. That brought Samantha to the silence of her shame and embarrassment and left Vince with a cocky smile as he took his stride towards the front door. Towards dryness and warmth. 

But Samantha was quick to stop him in his tracks with a soft scoff. “As if you could do any better.”

It’s a weak, unexpected jab that left Vince laughing in the door frame. “Damn right, I could.” 

Vince would never admit it, not to Sam and not to anyone, but he had taken more women to bed than he would ever want his mother to find out about. He couldn’t define what a serious relationship was because any attempt at a relationship he had didn’t last more than a series of late-night fucks. But that left him well-practiced and confident in his abilities in the bedroom. 

He had no doubt in his mind that he could leave Samantha satisfied, but the thought alone should have been enough to leave him choking. He had never thought about her like that before - well, before now. 

There would be no ridding his mind of the vision of her back in her bed with her body so freely accessible to his gaze. And now, as they took in the rain so completely soaked that her clothes clung to every curve of her body. 

It should have left him feeling dirty. Samantha was Miles’ baby sister. His best friend’s baby sister. But she wanted so desperately to be fucked. Vince could hear it in her strained words as she challenged him, and in her stare as she held his, her wide blue eyes glassy and hopeless. She was practically asking her to fuck him with so few words, and he was so close to caving. 

Vince cussed under his breath as he reached out to her, a single hand finding her back and pressing against it firmly. “Get in the house,” he told her and let the gentle guidance of his touch usher her back inside the cabin and out of the rain. 

Together they stood in the narrow entryway, so close he could feel her warmth cut through the cold air as he reached into his back pocket for his phone. While he dialled, he held her gaze, silently telling her that their conversation wasn’t over. Then he brought his phone up to his ear, and her face fell. “Hey buddy, I just arrived. How far out are you?”

He was talking to her brother.

Sam inched closer to him, her expression soft as she tried to make out what her brother was saying, but Vince only let her hear what he wanted her to hear. 

“You haven’t left yet?” His brow raised up as he looked at Samantha, her panic only growing as he spoke. “Nah, it’s all good. You’ll never guess who’s here…” 

Vince has to look away as he trails off. It’s the only way to keep himself from smiling. His eyes fixated on the window, watching as the raindrops fell over the cold glass as he answered, “Yeah, your sister.”

The mere mention of her left Sam lurching for his arm. Both of her hands found one of his forearms, clutching to him with her desperation and drawing his gaze from the rain and back to her face. She didn’t have to say a single word. Her eyes did all the pleading for her. Still wide, still glassy, but begging. Begging him not to tell Miles what he had caught her doing up in her room. And he wouldn’t, Vince liked the leverage. 

“One of her friends dropped her off,” he paused, listening to Miles as he listed off some of her friends' names as if it mattered who left her there, “yeah, that’s the one. She’ll keep me out of trouble until you get here.”

Or they would get into some trouble of their own. That fate still was yet to be determined. 

His thumb stroked over the screen of his phone, ending the call and sending it to darkness before he placed it face down on a nearby console table. Vince thought the simple action would get him off the hook, that Sam would back off and let her guard down, relieved that he didn’t let her little secret slip, but she remained, her hands on his forearm as they stood in the entryway. 

“He’s going to be a few hours,” Vince told her. 

And her brow raised up with her sweet and simple, “So?”

“So,” he hesitated for a moment, his tongue dragging over his lower lip. His body rocked with a careful sigh, unsure if he should entertain the dangerous temptations in his mind, but he did it anyway. “So, you want to lose your virginity as desperately as I think you do?”

Her hands fell from him, her jaw slacked, “I’m not-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Vince interrupted her firmly, his cold eyes hardening, “Couldn’t get it done on prom night, so you sneak out here the summer before college just to get it out of the way? I got that little fantasy, right?”

Samantha’s face faded free of any expression, shock consuming her. And Vince can only smile. Fuck, he loved being right.

But Sam didn’t answer him, so he pressured her further. “So you don’t go in all prudish and innocent?”

“Vince,” she spoke his name so slowly, so meekly, it gave him goosebumps. 

“Did you even bring condoms?”

She paled. 

And he laughed. 

Of course, she hadn’t come prepared. 

With a careful tug, Vince was out of her grasp and moving towards his bag that he had discarded on the floor. He had only packed enough for the long weekend, but what he searched for, he kept buried at the bottom. It was half empty, crushed by the weight of his belongings, a box of condoms. Vince always carried some with him, let it be in his car, in his bag or in his pocket. He was always prepared. Unlike Sam, who watched him from her place in the entryway as she chewed at her bottom lip. 

At the sight of them, her eyes lit up like he had some sort of prize in his hands. Any worry she had seemed to fade with her offering, a thank you on the tip of her tongue as she reached out for the box, only for Vince to tug it just out of her reach with a smile of his own.

“I’ll give them to you, on one condition,” he told her, only for her brow to raise in a silent question. He answered, “I’m the one who fucks you this weekend. Not that idiot kid, not some lifeguard, me.”

Vince didn’t know what to expect when he had made the proposition, but he hadn’t been expecting for her to take a step towards him, a cocky little smile on her own lips. He was struggling to accept that she may not be the timid teenager he remembered. Samantha was very much all grown up now, and she knew exactly what he wanted from her now. 

“And what makes you think I’d want it to be you?” Sam’s question was slow as her large blue eyes looked up at him through thick lashes. 

And Vince laughed. 

It was a low rumbling as he smirked and cocked his head to the side slowly. “You wanted it to be him?” His arm raised lazily, gesturing to the door that he had forced her little friend through.

They both fell into silence, their smiles small and their stares unbroken until she backed off and moved for the spiral staircase to begin her ascent. 

“I’ll take that as a no?” His words are a question, not a statement that had her freezing halfway up the staircase to look back at him as he remained in the entryway. 

Her smile remained small, a cocky troublemaker’s grin that told Vince that he just might have gotten himself in over his head with her and her words only confirmed that for him. “It’s an; I’m thinking about it.”

It rained all day, and into the night, trapping Vince inside the cabin, awaiting an answer to the proposition that hung too heavily in the air. The longer he had to wait, the more conflicted he felt - the more stupid he felt. He should have never put Sam in this position. He should have never, so bluntly, asked to fuck her. Yet, she was considering it. Considering him. She was interested, maybe only a little or greatly, and it was a weight that hung over him as he lounged in the living room and waited for the rain to pass. For an answer. For Miles to arrive. 

Miles arrived before the rain could stop, and before he could receive an answer from Sam. She had remained up in her room, hidden away until her brother arrived. Vince almost wished she had stayed there. Seeing her in her little shorts that were made more for sleeping than covering anything up and her sweatshirt left him near choking on the fact that their window to do anything had closed. 

Vince wasn’t all that mad about that fact. It would save him the headache of having to deal with the consequences later. But that didn’t mean the idea of it all didn’t linger. Samantha’s exposed body was all he could think about when she was in the room, even if she had covered herself up. The worst part was what she did with the knowledge of him wanting to fuck her. When she could have told her brother about the pass he had made on her, she withheld it from him. Much like Vince, it gave her leverage. 

If he told Miles about the guy he had caught her with, she would tell him that Vince was all too willing to take on the responsibility of taking her virginity himself. So they both remained tight-lipped and casual, but Sam teased him. 

Every playful glance she gave him, every moment her hands had been so casually placed on him, stewed in the back of his mind and his needs were desperately close to boiling over. The thoughts left him tossing and turning in bed at night. The rain was gone, and the hollow sound of the drops hitting the window couldn’t drive each forbidden thought from him. They couldn’t drown away the thought of what it might feel like to touch the smooth skin of her waist, or what she might sound like when he made her cum. They were thoughts that ran rampant, leaving his body shimmering with sweat and his cock raging so hard it ached. 

Vince needed a distraction, and he found it out on the back porch where the silver moonlight glistened off the lake water in the distance and the cold autumn air that threatened the last few days of summer left him shivering. Any other night, he would have retreated inside, but he needed the chill. It raised goosebumps over the flesh of his arms and his chest as he stood, leaning against the porch railing, in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. And while it was cold and uncomfortable, it calmed him. 

The crest of the water against the shore freed his mind, and the ache slowly faded. It all lulled Vince into thinking that he just might get to go back up to his room. That he might just be able to get some sleep. 

That was until he heard the open and shut of the flimsy screen door behind him. A heavy sigh shook his shoulders, and for a moment he thought he might just see his breath in the air as he let it go. Then he let himself look back, hoping to find Miles, but the sight of Samantha was what greeted him. He almost cursed and knew he should have gone back inside at that moment and left her alone. But his eyes fixated on the hem of her oversized sweater and how it crept up the skin of her thigh with each stride. It left him convinced she was wearing nothing else and forced him to look back out over the lawn and down to the lake water that he suddenly felt like he was drowning in. 

“Sneaking out?” Vince asked, his brow raised up even though he wasn’t looking up at Sam for her to see it. 

“I just wanted to get some air,” Sam answered him simply, and while he didn’t look at her as she spoke, he felt her warmth as she leaned up against the railing beside him, “can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, me either,” Vince sighed and reached a hand up to knot in his curls. 

“Got a lot on your mind?” Her sweet question left a smile on Vince’s lips. 

She didn’t even know the half of it, and he knew better than to indulge her. It would only get them both into trouble. 

“Something like that,” Vince sighed, his head turning to give her a quick glance. 

He regretted it in an instant. Samantha was petite, standing there at his side. He towered over her by seven inches still - maybe more. And while her hooded sweatshirt consumed much of her, there was no stopping his eyes from dragging down the angles of her legs and back up again The simple movement of resting her chin on her arms raised the sweater up inches on her body, the hem resting on the curve of her ass and confirmed that she was wearing nothing else but a pretty pair of panties. 

Vince cleared his throat. 

“You really should put some clothes on if you’re going to be prancing around here.”

“Prancing?” Sam asked him, her words sweet as she cocked her head to the side. She seemed so innocent, so naïve, but she knew exactly what she was doing. 

Toying with Vince. 

Tempting him. 

“I’ve seen that little hop in your step since our little conversation earlier-”

“Oh, have you?” Sam cut in, “Maybe I’ve always had that little hop in my step. You’ve just never cared enough to notice.”

“Of course, I care,” Vince’s eyes rolled as he stepped in closer to her, sighing under the feeling of her warmth as he was so close to touching her body as he had wanted to all night, “that’s why I never let myself notice.”

“So what changed?” Sam asked him slowly, leaning in and looking up. 

She looked so pretty there in the moonlight. The pale silver light illuminated all of her features, and for a moment Vince found himself distracted, staring. Samantha’s skin had been kissed by summer, giving her this warmth that Vince wanted to lean into. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, so bright beneath stray blond locks that the breeze tossed into her face. And her lips, so pink, pouted and kissable, he was one mere temptation away from taking her face in both hands and drawing her in for a self-indulgent kiss that would answer so many of the questions that plagued her. 

But his silence didn’t lure her in. It left her fumbling with the sleeves of her sweater as she sought any semblance of clarification. “I mean, I know why you wouldn’t have before, but I’m still my brother’s baby sister…”

That would never change. 

Samantha would always be Miles’ baby sister. 5 years younger than both of them. The kid they were stuck babysitting for years - but she wasn’t a kid anymore. And he couldn’t offer her a more complicated answer, even though he wished he could. This wasn’t some love story of a lifetime in the making. This wasn’t some kind of connection he had felt for years, just waiting for the right moment to act on it. 

No, this was primal. Selfish. 

When Vince had found her in her bedroom, so vulnerable and leaving so little to the imagination, she showed him almost all of what she could offer him. That enough was enough to catch his attention, to plant that nagging thought of wanting to take her to bed. Then he learned she was still untouched. A virgin. And it only made her more desirable. 

All he could think about was her tits, and now her ass as it peeked out from what little coverage her cotton panties and her sweatshirt concealed from him. It leaves his mouth dry, his tongue licking over his lips to moisten them. 

Then, he doesn’t answer his question and instead asks one of his own. 

“Aren’t you cold?”

Samantha narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re dodging my question.”

He nodded. She wasn’t wrong. But his mind was clouded, focused on her body, not her words, and he didn’t think he could string together an answer she deserved, never mind an answer she would want to hear. 

“I respect your brother, but-”

“But?” Sam interjected, and she inched so close to him he had to shut his eyes to keep himself from temptation. 

A low groan vibrated through him, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, knowing all too well he might regret what he was about to say. “Your first time should be something special.” 

Her scoff was just short of a laugh and left Dunn’s stomach heavy. He was right. He regretted saying that. 

“Your ego is, wow-” He could hear the smile in her voice as he let his eyes open to take in the darkness. Vince watched her as she stepped away from him and the railing and spun around as if her laughter was sweet music. When her feet stilled, Samantha leaned up against the screen door. It was then she spoke again, a smile in her words, “What makes you so special, Vince?”

“I know what I’m doing-”

She barely let him answer before she laughed again. Mocking him. 

“Do you? On whose word, your own?”

Vince’s jaw set as he turned to face her fully, his eyes dragging over her features that were alight with amusement. She was playing a little game with him, and he was letting her. 

“You want testimonials?”

“I don’t need to hear shit from the bunnies you fuck.”

There was a bit of harshness in her words, and Vince couldn’t tell if it was judgment or jealousy because she wasn’t wrong. Vince couldn’t even count the women he fucked since being drafted in 2015. Hell, even before that, he had developed a reputation for sleeping around. From the OHL to the AHL and the 3 seasons in the NHL that included a Stanley Cup Win - Vince had many options when it came to which women he took to bed. He had one in every city he played in and knew that the moment he sent that all too typical “you up?” text, they would be catching a cab to his hotel room. Because he was just that good in bed. 

“Sounds like you’re jealous.” His words were a baseless accusation, but they challenged her in a way that left her confidence wavering for a moment before she found her words again. 

“Jealous? No,” she hummed, her chin tilted up so she could meet his eyes. Samantha didn’t shy away from him, and Vince both loved and hated that. Part of him wanted her to be meek, to both accept the imminent collapse that would be her in his bed or go to the opposite extreme and reject him so harshly that he never contemplated the thought of being between her thighs again. Yet, she continued to toy with him just as he toyed with her. 

“But I know you. I’ve known you for a long time. You’re hot, don’t get me wrong. But you’re also filthy rich. An athlete. I’d fake it too if that meant I might get a piece of that life. Fuck, some might just do it for the bragging right alone,” there was a humour in her voice, one that dropped into a low hum as her lips curled with her next words, “but I’d bet you couldn’t find the clit if I drew you a map.”

It was Vince who laughed as he took his lazy strides away from the porch railing. Bare feet stepped over wet wood, the chill coursing up the length of his now heated body. He felt on the verge of sweating as he came to stand toe to toe with Samantha, towering over her and trapping her with her back against the door. As if he could risk getting any closer to her, he took in a steady inhale as he braced himself against the screen door, giving her nowhere to run. 

He stared down at her, and her up at him as they stood in silence. The only sound around them was the water of the lake in the distance crashing against the rocks on the shore and the trickle of water down the eavestrough as the remnants of the rain slowly faded into the night. Then, so faintly, yet so loudly in his ears, he heard Samantha take a quivering breath. 

He was so close to her, and her to him, that he could feel the night’s chill on her body, and he was sure that she could feel every breath he took on her cheeks as he stared down at her. 

“Let me warm you up a bit?”

Full pink lips parted to speak, but she found no words. His mere proximity had rendered her to silence, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Samantha could only nod as she looked up at him, her hands fisting the too-long sleeves of her sweatshirt. 

If he had wanted to be cruel, he would have pulled back and went up to bed. To leave her standing there until she realized just how close he was to kissing her, to touching her. He would have loved to tease her, leaving her craving his kiss on her lips when she was just a breath away from having it. But not even Vince could deny himself of just a simple pleasure when he had gone through the entirety of his day at the cabin thinking about it. 

Vince leaned in nice and slow, almost waiting for Samantha to speak a single word. To tell him to stop before he could even taste her, but that moment never came. Instead, he watched as her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in a subtle breath as she welcomed the caution of his kiss. Her lips were smooth against his own, so soft and plush that Vince’s hand which had lain flat against the door gripped into a fist. Samantha returned his kiss, easing his cautions, and what little restraint he had was quickly dwindling. 

His tongue ventured out through parted lips, coaxing her lips into parting and giving himself a taste of her. Vince’s tongue stroked against her own, and he heard the softest of moans as she let it slip into his mouth. She tasted sweet, like strawberries, and was only beginning to ease the hunger that consumed him. 

It was a hunger that had him throwing all caution away now that he had gotten a taste of her. His body pressed firm into her while one hand remained up above her against the door. His other hand explored. It found the curve of her waist, craving so desperately to travel upwards to grope at her breast, but Vince’s touch travelled down. Down along the curve of her waist and over the swell of her lip before stroking over the skin of her exposed thigh and settling between her legs. 

Samantha quivered as her breath hitched. Vince’s fingers had stroked over the thin cotton of her panties and dipped down just low enough to rest just over her clit. Then his hand stilled, and his kiss halted. Vince just stood there, his fingers a ghost of his touch over her clit without giving her the satisfaction of pressing into it. 

Vince just wanted her to know that he knew exactly where it was. 

Drawing back slowly, Vince smirked down at Samantha, who looked to be on the verge of collapsing if it wasn’t for the support of the screen door against her back. 

“You should go back up to bed before we do something stupid,” Vince tells her slowly, and she still can only nod. 

She took a moment to find her composure there against the door before she fixed her sweater and pushed off of it. She didn’t have to go far, taking only a mere step before she turned around and pulled it open to let herself inside. But he wasn’t following her, and it left her lingering in the doorway as she spoke. “You’re not coming?”

“I’m going to need a minute,” Vince admitted, stepping back to lean against the porch. The moonlight caught him just right and cast the shadow of his own erection against his thigh. He didn’t hide it. He wanted her to look. To see the effect she had on him, and what he can offer her in return. 

And she noticed. It was clear in how red her cheeks became, and how quick she was to look away when he caught her admiring the outline of his cock. Samantha’s hair fell down into her face in a golden curtain that hid her bashful smile as she retreated through the door with nothing more than a simple, “goodnight”. 

It shut hollowly behind her, leaving Vince to stand on his own. He welcomed the breeze, and he welcomed the quiet, but calm did not come as easily. Vince has to fight off every corrupt thought, the feeling of her skin that lingered on his fingertips and the taste of her on his tongue. The mere essence of her remained with him even after the night’s cold shocked Vince back into a calm, and as he returned inside. Samantha was a lingering thought as he moved through the main level, up the spiral staircase, and when he stopped just outside her door. 

His eyes dragged up and down the door frame, fixating on the tarnished handle as he stepped a little closer, his hand outstretched, only for it to ball into a fist before he could take it in his hold. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. And he sighed as he took a step back and retreated into his room for a restless night of sleep.

Come morning, Vince did what he should have done since he caught Samantha in her room. He kept his distance. After a restless night, he woke up with the sun. It was barely cresting over the horizon when he had pulled on his sneakers and went for a run through the familiar trails that wound through the trees that surrounded the cabin. When he returned, Sam and Miles were both making breakfast. And while his stomach growled with hunger, he made his excuses and disappeared into the bathroom for a quick, cold shower. It was only when the kitchen was clear; that he stood at the counter and ate breakfast alone. Strawberries, eggs, and toast. The strawberries were all that remained on his plate when he was done, knowing he could not last a day where the taste of them lingered on his tongue. 

Then Vince spent his day away from the cabin, out on the water. Unlike the day before when the rain left it feeling more like autumn than the last long weekend of summer, the sun was out in full force before noon. He enjoyed every moment of its warm embrace as he whipped around the lake on the back of a jet ski. 

Out on the lake, it was just him and Miles. The perfect distraction from the temptations that waited for him back at the cabin. But it didn’t keep his mind from wandering, wondering. When the warmth of the sun met the chill of the water and didn’t shock him, Vince thought about Samantha. About what happened the night before, and what she might be doing. He hadn’t seen her since he had given her the cold shoulder at breakfast, but it didn’t stop him from hoping that she was staying out of trouble. 

Vince got his answer when he pulled up at the dock behind Miles just after noon. Samantha was down by the edge of the water, her body glistening with water as she climbed out from a swim. Even from a distance, he could see how it glimmered like glitter as it travelled down her curves as she made no effort to dry off. She had pulled her hair up in a claw lip, giving him a better view of her body than she had unintentionally given him the day before. And her blue and white gingham bikini was too tiny, leaving very little to the imagination. She might as well have been standing in front of him naked. 

Vince had to bite his tongue as he threw his life jacket down on the dock. He wanted to desperately to tell her to go inside, to put some clothes on, but he couldn’t give any suggestion that his view of her had changed. Vince needed to be unbothered, even if the mere sight of her made his skin crawl in the best of ways. Especially as Miles led the way back up to the cabin. 

With his eyes fixated on the ground, Vince followed Miles’ path with no guidance beyond watching his ankles. It was the only way he could keep himself from staring at Samantha as they walked up the dock - but the moment Miles called out to his sister, Vince’s eyes strayed from his hollow steps on the dock and found their way back to Samantha. 

She had settled back in a lounge chair at the edge of the water, her petite body sprawled out in a way that almost looked staged. Like she was waiting for someone to take her picture. Sam wanted him to look at her. And in her hands, she held a book. Not that Vince cared to notice it as his eyes dragged up the length of her legs. It was her brother who made him aware of it in the cradle of her hold. 

“Good book?” Miles’ words were simple as he approached his sister, Vince following in his shadow. 

“Very. I’m almost done,” Samantha held up her book with one hand, and let the other fall on her sunglasses to push them back up into her hair, “just started today.”

“You’ve been out there that long?” Miles asked, and Vince almost groaned. He just wanted to get back in the house, but he wasn’t about to push past Miles to do it. 

It would beg too many questions if he didn’t loiter. If he didn’t wait for the two siblings to finish whatever mundane conversation they were having. 

“Yeah,” her answer was slow as she looked past her book, and to her brother and for a moment Vince was sure her eyes flickered to him. Just to make sure he was looking. And he was. So shamefully, he was. 

“Did you put on sunscreen?” Miles' question left both Vince and Samantha groaning, and he could only hope that Miles didn’t notice. 

“Of course,” Sam sat up, almost offended by the accusation, and her breast seemed to bounce at the motion. Testing the flimsy hold of her bikini and catching the stare of his eyes as they settled. 

“Recently?”

“You sound just like mom,” Sam tossed back at Miles and set her book down on the chair beside her and she reached for her sunscreen. 

It was the end of her conversation with her brother, sending him up the path back up to the house. And Vince moved after him, but Samantha wasn’t done with him yet. 

“Vince, hey,” she called out to him, stilling his steps and drawing his gaze back to her as she sat in her chair, “can you help me get my back?”

Sam wore a devilish smile on her lips as she held out the sunscreen to him, wiggling it silently as if her body alone wasn’t enough to entice him. 

“Sammy,” Vince sighed, his jaw slack as his eyes rolled. 

She shouldn’t be asking him to do these things, but she knew that. 

And he should have said no and gone back up to the house with Miles, but he couldn’t. She knew that too. 

“Please,” she pouted her bottom lip out at him, and it had him backtracking. 

The smile Sam gave him was one of triumph as he took the sunscreen from her hand and sat down on the chair next to her. He kept his eyes fixated on the bottle and the lotion as he squeezed it out into the palm of his hand. It was all he could do to keep himself from staring, but he regretted it the moment he looked up. 

While he had been distracting himself, Samantha had reached back with both hands and unknotted the back of her strapless bikini. Vince had looked up just in time to watch as the wet bathing suit fell away and he panicked. 

With one hand full of sunscreen, he dropped the bottle that he held in the other and reached out to her. It was a reflex that fried his every thought process. One moment, he was telling himself he needed to stop the fabric from falling away from her body. He needed to stop Samantha from exposing her breasts. And the next, he froze, mere inches from her body at the realization that if he stopped that fabric from falling, he would have a hand full of her breast. 

His hand flexed as he flinched back, his eyes narrowing as the fabric fell, but her arms came up to cradle her breast in her hold. He wanted to curse at her, to shout for being so reckless, but he didn’t want to draw in any unnecessary attention. 

Vince could only sigh. 

“Jesus, Sammy. What are you doing?”

Her smile was unwavering as she sat there facing him so confidently with her smile. Not even the risk of her own breast spilling over the hold of her arms had her shying away from him as she innocently answered, “What? I don’t want to get tan lines!”

And he almost believed her. Almost. 

If it weren’t for the testing twinkle in her eyes, he would have thought it was an innocent thing. But paired with her little smirk, Vince knew she was teasing him. 

He watched as she turned in place so that her back was to him. A heavy breath caught in his chest when he thought she might have to reach a hand up to hold her hair away from her back before his eyes flicked up to the clip that held her hair in place. The clip alone helped put him a little at ease, even if his body was rigid as he reached out to spread the lotion over the flesh of her back. His hand moved in gentle strokes as his eyes looked up at the cabin to ensure her brother had gone inside before he let his eyes return to her. 

Before he could see it, Vince could feel Sam’s reaction to his touch. She was melting beneath his fingers, her shoulders falling forward and her head lulling back on her shoulders. Vince watched as the tension of her muscles disappeared and he smirked as she leaned back into the caress of his hands. 

“I think you’re just making up excuses for me to touch you,” his words were a low growl as he leaned in to mutter them in her ear. There was a long moment of silence that fell between them, and he waited for her to deny it, but she didn’t. “You like how my hands feel on your body?”

His words hit her in a breath, and she refused to answer him with words. But her body was all he needed to know about the effect he was having on her. He noticed how her toes flex in anticipation, and how her hips angled her pelvis down. Vince couldn’t see what exactly Sam had angled herself into, but he was sure she was one touch away from grinding against the lounge chair. 

“My offer still stands,” Vince told her as his hands settled on the curve of her waist and gripped her flesh carefully. It’s a touch that leaves her glancing over her shoulder at him, her face-framing strands falling into her eyes as she bites at her lower lip. 

There was no more wonder. No more contemplation. She wanted him and Vince could only wish that he could take her right then and there, but it was too risky. Too stupid. 

“Tonight?” she offered in a quiet yelp as Vince guided her hips in a careful roll that sent her cunt grinding against the lounge chair. 

“No, we can’t do it here, not with your brother around,” Vince sighed, leaning forward to place a careful, reassuring kiss on her shoulder, “I have an idea, but you’re going to have to follow my lead. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “okay.”

With her answer, Vince left her there, out on the lawn in the embrace of the sun, and didn’t see her again until dinner. 

The three of them sat around the small dining table, the sound of forks scraping against glassware filling the silence between mouthfuls and casual conversation. It was with them, all together, that Vince could put his attempt of a plan into motion. 

“Hey, man,” Vince nodded to Miles across the table casually, “can I take your truck into town in the morning? Early. I just want to grab a few things, and I don’t think my car will handle the back roads.”

His eyes glanced over at Sam as he spoke. This is it, princess, he thought as she watched her straighten up in her seat, her fingers toying with the drawstring on her sweatshirt hood. 

“Yeah, go for it,” was the answer Vince expected, and the one that Miles gave to him. 

“Thanks man, I-”

“Vince,” Sam cut in, and Vince had to try not to smile. “Do you mind if I tag along? I, ah, I need a few things.” The way she emphasized the word, things didn’t leave room for Vince or Miles to question it. 

All Vince needed to do was accept, and he did it with a look of annoyance to hide the satisfaction that had him melting back into his seat. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just be up on time or I’m leaving without you-”

On the cold morning, the truck’s windows were fogged, and the cab left chilled even as the motor ran. Vince’s stiff, tired fingers toyed with the dials of the air conditioning that was left on. He was quick to turn it off, replacing the cool air with a gust of warmth that left him leaning back in the driver’s seat. Beside him, resting on the bench seat, was a pile of heavy blankets and on top of them was the box of condoms. He couldn’t hide the crooked smile that consumed him at the sight of the tattered cardboard as his head leaned back against the headrest. He had waited all weekend to get to use them. His original intention was to pick up some random, desperate woman from the beach, but his plans quickly changed because of Samantha. And while it left a heavy feeling in his gut, his cock was already half-hard just waiting for her. 

Watching through a patch in the window that he had wiped clear of the fog with his fist, Vince waited. For how long, he didn’t really know, but it was long enough that doubt crept in. His hot breath mixed with the cold air, and would fog up the window once and then again as he watched the front door. There was no sign of life. No light. No movement. No Samantha. 

Eyes dropped to the bright, blue-green glow of the digital clock. It was still early. Earlier than he told her, but even he got nervous when the stakes were high. The minutes ticked by and Vince began making excuses as to why he didn’t make it into town after all for when Samantha didn’t join him - but then the front door opened and a wave of relief hit him. 

Samantha left the house as if her brother didn’t know that the two of them had plans to run into town. Her every moment was slow, deliberate and careful, and she had the hood of her zip-up sweatshirt pulled up over her head as if she needed to conceal who she was. It left Vince chuckling as she climbed into the seat next to him, her blonde hair framing her face and the bright blue of her eyes as she looked at him. 

“What?” she asked him slowly, a weakness in her voice that sounded more like insecurity than sleepiness. 

“It’s nothing,” Vince assured her slowly, his hand reaching up to throw the truck into reverse before Sam could put her seatbelt on, “you’re just a dork. Sneaking out like that. Your brother knows we’re going out.”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, her hands reaching up to push her hood back, “right.”

Together, they sat in the truck cab in silence as they drove down the road. The fog beaded into drops of moisture, streaking down the windows as the heat cleared it away. On the horizon the sun was only just rising, flooding the dark skies with the many shades of sunrise. It was a beautiful sight, even with heavy tired eyes, even if they wouldn’t be able to see it for long as he turned down a back road that was smothered by the overgrowth of towering trees. 

Thin branches reached out over the narrow road, their baring branches hitting and scratching at the truck as it passed. The tires kicked up the dirt, and even while he slowed, it left a dust cloud in their wake. It wasn’t an unfamiliar road. Miles’ dad had taken them all fishing when they were kids, just beyond the dead end. Where the road met thick brush, and beyond it the water. But the paths once taken had long since grown over, and there were no other vehicles parked along the edge of the road. There would be no one to interrupt them for now, but Vince knew they would have to be vigilant. 

“Alright, get in the back,” Vince broke the silence, his hand reaching out for the pile of blankets. 

He tucked them under his arm, and in his hand, he carried the box of condoms in his firm grip as he slid out of the driver’s seat and rounded back to climb into the truck bed. The truck bed was cold and it wouldn’t be the most comfortable of things for her, but Vince was going to do his best. Tossing the condoms down, he unfolded one blanket and laid it out, then another. The third he would use to keep them warm. 

Samantha stood at the end of the bed, watching him with curious eyes before letting herself climb up into the bed with him. He watched her as she crawled up the length of it. Her black leggings hugged her body with each movement, right down to her chunky white sneakers on her feet. She looked like she was going for a run more than she looked to be going to a dick appointment. But she was comfortable as she sat down at his side - a little nervous, but comfortable all the same and it left Vince smiling. 

“Come ‘here,” he coaxed her as he reached across the little space between them for her hand. 

He held it carefully in his hold, giving it a careful tug to draw her in close, only to drop it when she was near enough to place his hands on her hips. His hold on her was gentle, his thumbs stroking over the swell of her hipbone as he guided her down to straddle his hips. Vince could feel her warmth on every side of him, bleeding through the thick fabric of his black hooded sweatshirt and his grey sweatpants as they warmed between her thighs. With her there, he took a moment to admire her, his bright eyes flickering over her softened features. She was doing a good job of hiding her nerves, but he could still see it there in her eyes, as she couldn’t quite meet his own. 

When he spoke, his hand moving up and down over her thighs in a soft stroke as he did so, he only made it worse. “Alright, Sammy, tell me what I’m working with.”

Her gaze shifted from where they seemed to stare at his lips to the trees beyond as she chewed at her bottom lip, “I, um.”

She was hesitating. Unsure of what exactly he was asking, or too nervous to tell him the dirty little details he didn’t know, he encouraged her all the same. “How far have you gone before?”

Sam blushed, her eyes coming to find his face again, and only for a moment did he meet his eyes. “Over the clothes.”

“And what do you do when you’re by yourself?”

“Vince!” His name was soft on her tongue, her eyes wide as her mouth full agape. She hadn’t been expecting him to ask her that. 

“Hey,” he met her, his own voice dropping to her softness as he reached his hand up to caress her cheek, “You don’t have to worry with me, okay? I’m not here to judge you,” she relaxed into his touch, a heavy sigh rocking her body, “and if I’m going to fuck you, Princess, I want to know what you like and what you’re going to be able to handle-”

Her insecurity broke, her lips spaying into a confident smile as she leaned in to challenge him. “I can handle anything you give me.”

There she was. The Samantha that was so eager to toy with him. 

“Humour me then?” His head cocked as his hand left her cheek and traced the outline of her curves. It ghosted over the swell of her breasts, and his hand hesitated there for a moment. Vince craved to grope a handful, but his touch travelled over her waist and settled on her hips once more. He gripped them tight and guided them into their first gentle roll over his cock.

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut at the friction. Her lips parted in a silent gasp before she could bite down on her lower lip.  

“How often?” Vince asked. 

“Often,” was her simple, feeble response. 

A smile grew over Vince’s lips as she crumbled for him. He sat up from where he leaned against the back window of the truck and leaned in. She had found her rhythm, her lips rolling over his slowly, but not enough to tease him. She, much like him, was too eager to wait. Vince’s eyes shut as he fought off a groan of his own, his face finding the warmth of her neck just below her ear. It was there he kissed her, his hot breath warming her skin as he muttered, “Fingers or toys?”

“Fingers.”

His lips dragged over the smooth angle of her jaw in a slow kiss before he spoke again, “Clit or-”

“Vince-”

He kissed down her neck, his teeth grazing over her flesh as he tried to coax an answer from her. “Sam.”

She hesitated, and it had Vince leaning back to look up at her. No answer. No sex. 

Pouting in his lap, Sam let out an embarrassed huff. “You know the answer.”

“How many fingers?”

Her face was bright red, her skin so hot that Vince forgot that he had been cold. And while she hesitated, she answered him, “Two.” 

Vince’s hands left her hips and took hold of one of hers.  He drew it up so she could see it in front of her. There, his palm met hers and they compared how much bigger his hands and fingers were to hers. He let her stare, her eyes wide as her tongue stroked over her bottom lip. He knew exactly what she was thinking about at that moment without her needing to say a word. Vince had planted the very thought of wondering what his fingers would feel like as they plunged into her core. And he felt her shudder. 

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, “but you have to promise me that if it becomes too much, or it hurts, you tell me to stop. Got that?”

Samantha nodded slowly, her teeth biting her lip before she let it fall with her words. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” he praised her, and she shuddered again. 

She liked praise. And he noted it. 

“So,” she hummed slowly, “where do we start?” Vince could only hush her as his hand reached up to stroke through her thick blond hair. His fingers toyed with her soft strands as he pushed them away from her face before they came to rest at the nape of her neck. With that hold, he guided her in and met her lips in a kiss. 

There was no caution between them. No hesitation as their lips fell into that same hunger that they had fought back on the porch during the night he had let his desire to fuck her swelter cloud every bit of her better judgement. Her tongue was in his mouth, her hands were in her hair. Tangled in each tendril as he held her head in his hands. Thumbs coaxed her carefully, guiding her mouth open further. The kiss became sloppy, saliva-coated chins and teeth clashed in the desperation of it all. And then his hands dropped. 

Samantha had maintained the careful roll of her hips over his raging cock, so she didn’t need his help there. Now, he got to explore. 

There was no stopping how his smile splayed over his lips as his hands found the swells of her breast and brushed over them in a feather-light touch. Vince had wanted to indulge himself in them from the very moment he had spotted her there in her bed, and now he was finally going to get the chance. A single hand found the zipper of her sweatshirt, and he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger before dragging it down. It took all of his willpower not to break the kiss and not to look down to see what she wore beneath her sweater. His hands got to do all the exploring as he pushed the sweater open, but not off of her. And he let out his first audible groan when he felt what was beneath. 

Samantha wore nothing but what felt like a lacey bralette beneath her sweater as the delicate fabric that dropped off to her smooth flesh greeted Vince’s fingertips. His hands moved blindly, stoking over soft skin and fingers hooked on the flimsy fabric that concealed her breasts and pulled it down. There was no holding back now, not as he could feel the heavy weight of them spill over the excuse of a hold that was the bralette. He needed to see them. 

Strong arms embraced Sam around her middle, coiling around her as Vince broke the kiss in a desperate gasp. So selfishly, he housed her up to sit just a little high on her hips so that the very swells of her cleavage were in his sight. His lips came together in a satisfied hum, his hands gripping at the bralette in both hands to fully rid her chest of it before taking a breast in each hand. Large hands kneaded at her flesh, groaning when Samantha’s breasts seemed to overflow from his hold. 

They weren’t better than he had imagined. So full, so soft, and so tempting to his mouth as Vince leaned in to place sloppy open-mouthed kisses over the swells of her breasts. Then his lips travelled down, his tongue lapping over a single pert nipple before he was taking it fully in his mouth. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of his mouth, or the stroke of his tongue that coaxed it out of her, but with his mouth consuming her breast, Samantha’s lips parted in a soft sweet gasp. It had Vince smiling against her flesh. But what he liked more was how her hands stoked up the back of his neck and found his curls. He could feel the gentle scratch of her manicured nails over his scalp as her fingers knitted and tugged carefully at his locks. It sent a hum of pleasure buzzing through him, one that had his hands drop to her hips to get a good grip on her. And then he flipped her, her breast falling from his mouth as her back hit the truck bed, and quaking with the impact. 

A heavy breath left him as his eyes fixated on her breast again, watching them bouse as they settled and a groan ripped up the back of his throat. Selfishly, he wanted to fuck them. To press them together with his hands and thrust his cock between them until he came. And he would unload all over them and watch it drip down over each swell. 

The thought alone made his cock throb. 

But that’s not why they were there - and he was done holding back. 

“You’ve got such a great body,” he complimented her in a rush of words that sounded more like one as his hands traced the curve of her waist and settled at the top of her tight black leggings.  

He gripped the fabric in his fists and tugged them down the length of her legs, only to hit her sneakers. Two kicks of her feet and they were gone, leaving her in her panties and her unzipped sweatshirt beneath him. Then, he reached up, pulling off his own sweatshirt, baring his chest to her, and shivering in the breeze. Vince’s mouth opened to apologize for the cold, but his words were unspoken as Samantha leaned forward, her lips kissing over the toned muscles of his abdomen. 

And he just smiled. 

That was the beauty of sex. It didn’t need to be learned or taught. It was all instinct. Once he had gotten her caught up in the moment, in the rush of the feeling, Samantha knew exactly what to do. Biting his lip, Vince’s head lulled back. He relished in the feeling of her sweet pink lips against his skin, and every breath that washed over him. But there was a risk in taking his take with her. At any moment, another truck could roll up, and he intended to get back to the house long before Miles woke up. 

Reaching out with one hand, he took hold of the third and final blanket while the other stroked back Samantha’s hair from her face. “Lay back, Princess.” 

She didn’t hesitate, and Vince positioned himself fully between her thighs. His hands made quick work of the blanket, draping it over his back and leaning in close so that it fell over them both to give them some semblance of warmth. Then his hands were on her body once more. He stroked down over her thighs before dipping down into the heat between them. The skin of Samantha’s inner thigh was so delicately soft that Vince was almost worried that the hardworking callouses on his palms might hurt her. But any thought of worry was gone the moment a single finger stroked over the damp fabric at the crotch of her panties. 

“You’re so nice and wet for me,” his words were a growl as his fingers settled on her clit. This time, he didn’t just tease her with the very knowing of where it was. Vince pressed into the sensitive nerves, stroking her slowly and coaxing her into a heavy breath and the careful buck of her hips. 

“Would you like me to take these pretty little panties off?” 

Nothing more than Samantha’s desperate nods met his question, and Vince didn’t make her wait. The careful rise of her hips helped him as his finger hooked along the thin fabric and dragged it down. She was already such a mess for him, and he’d barely touched her. Vince could see it in how her face softened for him and felt it against his fingers as he slipped her panties from her ankles and took them in his fist. He gripped them tight for a moment before he shoved them into the pocket of his sweatpants. 

As to not to lose them - or maybe to keep them as a souvenir. 

He smiled at the thought of getting to keep them. Of getting to bring them back to St Louis and keeping them in his own drawer. And it had fully consumed him as he leaned in close and let his hand settle between her legs again. Bare for him, he could feel everything. From her clit to the slickness of her core, he stroked her with a single finger. Gathering that sweet arousal around his index finger before he eased it into the tightness of her cunt. 

His thrust was slow, careful as he eased into her inch by inch until he was knuckle deep. 

“That’s it, princess,” he encouraged her in a hit whisper that washed over her face as she let out a silent moan, “doing so good for me, you want another?”

He met her eyes that seemed to flutter with every careful pump of his fingers, earning a sweet, “Yes, yes, Vince, please,” from her lips. 

“Ready?” he asked her, his words as slow and agonizing as his last thrust with his single finger. And before she could answer, his middle finger had joined in on the plunge, stealing her words and sending a moan into the air. 

Birds in the trees above flew in a flock from the treetops, startled by the noise. “Easy there, Princess, it might not just be me and you out here,” Vince cautions her, his eyes meeting hers and he feels her core flex around his fingers. “Oh?” his head cocked. “You like that? The idea of being caught? That someone could walk out of the trees or drive in from the main road and catch us here. My fingers knuckle deep in your pretty little pussy.”

Each word coaxed out a heavy breath, and her walls squeezed around his fingers in a warm embrace that left Vince salivating. He was so close to making her come already. And it was a good thing too. The tension between them over the last two days had left him on edge. Once he had her, he knew he wouldn’t last as long as he would like to with her. 

“You ready for my cock, princess?”

Samantha let out a weak hum and reached out her hands to tug at his sweatpants that already hung low on his hips. The tips of her fingers grazed over his flesh, tracing over the angles of his toned body as she brought them down just enough that his cock sprang free. Vince had half hoped to see a shocked expression take her features, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think his cock wasn’t the first she’d seen. He had been one or more unsolicited dick-pic away from that honor, but he was going to be the first of what really mattered. 

Vince reached out for the almost forgotten box of condoms, crushing the already battered cardboard in his hold as he fished for the foil package with two fingers. Securing it, he tossed the box aside again, spilling the contents in the truck bed, before ripping open the package and working the thin latex onto his cock. Choking back a groan at the stroke of his own hand, Vince asked, “You watch porn?”

She didn’t shy away from answering him now that her mind was dizzy with lust. “Yeah,”

“Forget everything you’ve ever watched for a second, and just enjoy the moment, the feeling.”

Vince had pressed the top of his cock to the narrow entrance of her core before he could finish speaking. The very pressure of the tip punctuated his words as it eased his way into the embrace of her walls. She was warm, warmer even as Vince leaned in to press his body flush against hers. All the morning cold seemed to disappear around him, the warmth of her body all so consuming as she entwined herself with his by body and limb. He could feel all of her, from how her feet dragged down the length of his lengths before hooking behind his knees to how one hand knitted in the curls of his hair while the other scratched and gripped at his back. But her hold on him, and the slow, steady and deep thrusts, were not enough to keep them anchored in place in the back of her brother’s truck. 

Reaching his hand out, Vince pressed it firmly against the cold glass window. The temperate sent a shock right through him. It was such an intense contrast to her warmth, to the pulse of her core around his cock with every one of his thrusts. He fucked her good and slow, kissing her slowly just to feel her sweet moans against his own lips as if he could taste them. And then her climax hit her, so hard he could feel every wave as it consumed her. Vince could feel her legs weaken and tremble, and her grasp on him only grew tighter, as she didn’t quite know yet how to handle the intensity of the pleasure he had brought her.

The pulling on his hair, the coaxing of her core and the squeeze of her legs around his tights brought his own soft groans as he fell into the chase of his own high. His every movement that followed was primal. The sound that left his lips uncontrollable as his thrusts hastened, and his cock twitched against her core’s insistent grasp. Pleasure strangled his final moan as his hips crashed into hers and Vince kept himself buried deep inside her cunt as he unloaded. It left him panting,  sweating, groaning, relieved as he had finally gotten what he had been craving the entire long weekend. 

Yet, he felt a sense of disappointment. He wished he could have been able to take his time with her. To really enjoy her and teach her a few things outside of being a pretty little pillow princess. 

“Fuck, I could have so much fun with you,” Vince told her in a low muttering that he was sure would become lost in the wind. And it was the truth. She had the perfect body, and Sam was still so impressionable in the bedroom. Vince wanted to be the one who walked her through all of it. To be the one who ruined every single other man for her. But she would be off to university in a few days, and he had to report to training camp. Even if he wanted her, there would be too great a distance between to satiate and desire that took him. 

Drawing out of her, Vince eased the condom from his cock and pulled his sweatpants up quickly. Fingers knotted up the end, and with little regret, he tossed it into the grass beside the road before he hunted down his clothes. The two of them moved around the truck bed, gathering their things and shrugging into their clothes in silence. That fact left worry hanging heavily in Vince’s stomach. By now, women would have complimented him on anything, everything, desperate to get inside his head after a hookup. But Sam had barely met his eyes as he stared at her breasts one last time before Sam zipped up her sweater.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, coming to stand in front of him, but she didn’t offer another word to him. Instead, she leaned in and pressed up onto her toes to place a simple kiss on his cheek, “but you might have to help me down.”

“I can do that,” Vince grinned and made that his priority. 

He jumped down from the truck bed and reached his arms out to her. Hands settled on the curve of her waist and lifted her down with ease. But he didn’t stop there. Vince wrapped one arm around her and watched her with soft eyes and an amused smile as she walked to the passenger side on weak legs. Her strides had been slow and careful, and he had been the one who did that to her. 

“Get in. I’ll take care of the rest.” Vince helped her into the passenger’s seat before closing the door firmly behind her. 

Then, he made quick work of the mess they made in the truck bed. Vince folded the blankets in on one another, hiding the stray condom that had fallen out of the box, and any traces of sex they may have left behind. They ended up in more a ball than nicely folded, and he tossed into the backseat before Vince found his seat and started up the engine just as another truck pulled into the end of the road. 

The driver, an old man, his face thick with wrinkles and his smile friendly, so Vince rolled down the window and offered a friendly wave. 

“Any luck out there this morning?”

His mind was cloudy, stuck in a bit of a daze of his own, and left confused by the stranger’s question before he watched him reach into the back of his truck for an old fishing rod. 

“No, nothing for us, though we weren’t out long,” Vince upheld the friendly conversation as he reached his arm up to stretch over the back of the seat of the truck. He patted the soft leather of the bench seat, coaxing Samantha over to lean into his side casually. His hand stroked over her arm as he spoke to the man, the conversation falling on the nice weather the day was supposed to have for fishing, but it wasn’t long before he was wishing the man luck and Vince was putting the car in reverse. 

With Sam pulled close to his side, he drove into town on the back roads in silence. Not that they really needed anything from the store, but Vince knew if they didn’t return with anything, Miles would get suspicious. 

When they arrived, Vince left Samantha in the truck and went into the store alone. He grabbed odds and ends of things. Items that he could have easily forgotten to pack for the weekend, and he even bought Samantha a box of tampons just to cover all the bases before he returned to the truck. She had turned the music on and eased back into her place by his side on the bench seat, but they continued to ride in silence. 

Vince could hear her every tired breath and the music that was just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to make out the lyrics. And when she rested her head on his shoulder, he almost groaned. The silence was getting to him, his own curiosities now eating away at him. Vince wanted to know what she was thinking, what she felt. But he was only a quick glance in the mirror from seeing that her eyes were softly closing, sleep threatening to take her as they travelled down the final stretch of road before they were back of the cabin. 

He let her flirt with the idea of sleep, but the moment he pulled into the driveway his touch had found her face. He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head just enough to look up at him. Her eyes fluttered, and her smile pulled at her lips as just how close they were. And he smiled too as he whispered, “You still upset with me for scaring away your little friend?”

Her head shook slowly as she tried to look away to hide the smile that played on her lips, but his hold on her kept her in place. Days ago, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had screamed at him for what he did. Shouted, hell, he wouldn’t have put it past her if Sam had told him she hated him for what he did, but it was all very different now. 

She had no frustration in her eyes. No anger. 

“And how do you feel right now?”

Glancing back at him, Samantha could only shrug as her cheeks were the faintest shade of pink. There was a dreamy look on her face, one that Vince had seen so many times before. One of peace, one of calm and adoration. 

Lust. 

Longing. 

 Love. 

“That’s the endorphins.” His words were soft, a long hum as his hands cupped her face in his hands. “You see, this is the shit they don’t teach you about sex in school. When I fucked you, made you feel so good, it fucked with your brain chemistry. Releases Oxytocin or some shit during orgasm.” His thumb trailed down her cheek oh so slowly, drawing her into a heavy breath that left her bottom lip quivering. Vince stroked it slowly. “Fucking dangerous thing it is. It’s why every time a man touches you from here on out, and he doesn’t get you there, you’re going to think of me. When you touch yourself, you’re going to think of me. And when you do, fucking call because I want to see the mess I’ve fucking turned you into.”

Samantha’s features softened, her eyes wide and her mouth agape in awe at his words. There was nothing she could say to change the effect he would have on her for the rest of her days. A little piece of her would always belong to him. It went beyond the physicality of it all, and Vince fucking loved that. 

His thumb stroked over his lower lip one last time, knowing that just touching like that in the driveway was too great a risk, but he wanted more. Vince leaned in and kissed her hard. He wanted to taste her tongue later in the day when he wanted to fuck her, but could only reminisce about the feeling. His fingers nearly knotted in her hair. So close to drawing her in and fucking her in the truck cab, but the possibility of being caught by Miles there left an uncomfortable knot in his gut. Yet, he didn’t pull back until he knew her lips would swell from the kiss. But it might have been too late. 

The front door was the first thing he looked at when Vince pulled back from Samantha, his hands still cradling her face. And his body flooded with panic when he saw the door wide open, and Miles making his way out the door, his eyes fixated on the gravel beneath his feet. The truck cab filled with a series of rushed curses as they rushed to put as much distance between themselves as possible. Samantha went as far as to press her back against the passenger side door. There the both of them stayed, panting, watching as her brother looked up towards the truck and he smiled. 

Miles hadn’t seen a thing. 

[fillinforlater]

FEAR----

Male Reader x Huh Yunjin (ft. Chaewon)

Length: 2420 words

Tags: con-non-con kink, change in pov, piss kink, water sports, public sex, choking, gagging, a kinky robbery, humiliation, crying, name calling, missionary, messy make-out, all the bodily fluids, roleplay, dacryphilia maybe, misattribution-of-arousal-kink!Yunjin

TW: cnc kink, water sports (pee), (role)playing with fear

Inspiration: ffs, I have no clue why my brain comes up with these. Maybe I'm just insane? Or stupid? Or too horny for my own good?

(A/N: yeah, I think I will have to take a break after this. Something very different will come up next, but I still need time to write it lol, so please be patient. For those that love these kinks, you're welcome, I won't write them (especially water sports) often.)

"What are you thinking about right now?"

Chaewon’s quiet, tender whisper is calming like a cool breeze in blazing summer heat. It takes you out of your short trance, which you spent gazing at the ring on her finger. You look into her concerned eyes, then towards her blonde friend at the bar. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you set down the untouched cocktail.

"You know I like the idea," you start your rant, hoping it removes the uncertainty burdening your heart, "and I know you're completely fine with it. But the more I look at her—I just don't know if she knows what she really wants. You get me?"

"I think I do. Hmm,” Chaewon ponders for a second, caressing your palm, "Look, how about we ask her right now."

She turns around and with a wave of her hand she gets her friend's attention. The young woman quickly walks over, a bright, beautiful smile on her features. She stops next to your wife and straightens her postures when she looks at you. Before she can greet you, Chaewon whispers a long message into her ear. It makes her face sweaty and redder with each word.

"So," Chaewon loudly announces at the end of her explanation,"what are you thinking, Yunjin."

"I—"

Yunjin locks eyes with you. Her hands fidget, her upper body tenses up and her breath responds to her increased heartbeat. You can almost see the small muscle in her chest throb. She hesitates, even with Chaewon's reassuring smile and strokes on her back. Before you can speak up however, Yunjin's firm answer catches you by surprise:

"I still want it. I don't know what else to say, but I really want this and I don't care about the dangers."

"Alright," you respond blankly, though slightly in awe of Yunjin's clarity, "I appreciate your trust."

#

It's way past midnight when Yunjin leaves the area around the well-lit HYBE building to walk home. Dark, narrow corridors in between cold, lifeless concrete buildings are her choice, as she is eager to get to her flat quickly. Yunjin will always sacrifice a bit of lighting for effective short cuts. With her cell phone as a flashlight in one hand, her Louis Vuitton bag in the other, she confidently finds her way in this now well-known maze.

At night, she doesn't have to be extra careful about someone noticing her or the song she hums. An unreleased track, self-composed, with lyrics that have meaning to her and the other bandmates. At night, Yunjin is free to sing those words and feel a bit of burden fall from her shoulders.

A gentle breeze makes her blonde hair sway off of her shoulder and the loose jacket flies along with it. Yunjin has to stop in her tracks to adjust the leather garment. It's this time of the year where it's warm enough at night that you don't really need any extra clothes. However, each cold wind reminds Yunjin that it's good to have something on her. She can't allow herself to get sick.

It's also the time of the year where almost every night sky is littered with dazzling stars that dance on their designated spot, billions of miles away. It's a spectacle, each and every single one of them, so similar yet so different. The human eye cannot escape from this beauty, and Yunjin is no different. She stands there, star struck, the white lights dancing on her irises like it’s the parquet of a musical. Yunjin hums the melody to their performance. 

The bushes behind her rustle once. A dark figure shots out from behind them like a lightning bolt. Yunjin gasps and quickly looks behind her shoulder to see a black ski mask right in her face. Her ensuing scream is muted by a cloth forced into her mouth. She tries to escape, but the person is just too fast. Yunjin is grabbed at the top of her dress and forcefully shoved into a nearby wall.

“Money?” the figure asks in a cold, rough tone. Yunjin tenses up when she feels freezing metal run up her exposed thigh. Her eyes tremble in fear, even more so her legs. She is only held upright by the man's hand and his leg trapping her in between dead concrete and death personified. 

The man tears on Yunjin’s dress and groans angrily. Yunjin is too scared to test his patience, so she shakes her head. Her lips lose all their moisture to the cloth in her mouth, but maybe it’s just traveling to her eyes, to her sweat glands and down low.  

“Not even in that bag? Not even at home?” the man continues to ask. He guides the metal object further up, right to Yunjin’s core. A few swipes on her bundle of nerves make the young woman burst out into tears. It’s certainly not a knife that he is holding. The death bringing object right on her most private part makes her flinch, head shaking rapidly. 

The man grabs her face roughly. It’s like a slap he stopped as soon as he felt her skin. It reassures that the cloth won’t fall out of her mouth. The man groans once again. With small kicks against her shoes he forces Yunjin’s feet further apart. He then leans in right next to her ear.

“I know that you know what this is,” he whispers and presses his gun against Yunjin’s pussy, she wails, “and if you don’t tell me where the fuck I can get my money—tell me, or else.”

The flow of Yunjin’s tears is like an endless waterfall. Her hands are pleaing, begging, showing that she has nothing. No possession at hand, no money, maybe the bag is worth something, but the man does not seem interested in that. He wraps one hand around her gentle, fragile throat and slowly pulls out the gun from underneath her dress. She can look right into the barrel. There is a bullet waiting at the back, her name on it. 

This is it. Everything inside her is building up to this moment. Her body reacts the only way it can, the only way it knows how to, the only way she wants to. Instead of the bullet hitting her, the man shoves his knee in between her legs and pushes up. Yunjin screams against the gag, her fingers dig into her attackers back as she starts to pee violently. The clear stream immediately soaks her thin white panties, then runs down her pale, goosebump covered legs and begins to soak her shoes and his pants. The dark spot seems invisible on his dark pants, but he definitely feels and hears Yunjin’s eruption. 

“Bitch, what the—how dare you!” 

The man pulls out his knee and closely watches as the last sprays of Yunjin’s pee cover the dry asphalt below. He doesn’t even notice the gag falling out of Yunjin’s mouth as she makes no attempts to scream for help. She feels like all her dignity is stripped from her and sobs uncontrollably. Snot and salt water with small hints of make-up mess up her beautiful face, but she doesn’t cover it up. She still holds on to the back of this cruel stranger.

“Bitch, you are crazy.”

“Pl-please d-don’t ki-kill me.”

“Shut up,” he snarls and presses his gun against her panties again, “slowly take them off, or else..”

Yunjin’s throat is dry. Her sobs begin to sound like croaks as she leans down and grabs the wet lingerie. In the most embarrassing performance of her lifetime, she drags down her panties, feeling her own clear, barely gold liquid on her skin. She steps out with one leg, then the other, and both times the man kneads her thighs for a short time. Another breeze flies through her hair, but this time she only notices it because of the freezing touch on her wet core.

“Wring it out. With one hand, right onto the street.”

Yunjin closes her eyes as she closes her fist around her panties. They worked like a sponge and now all of her piss shoots out of the gaps in her hand. She is mortified by how the warm liquid feels on her hand. 

“Fuck, you’re insane,” the man says with awe and amusement and grabs Yunjin’s hair. He yanks her across the street, into the bushes where he came from. Behind them is a small patch of grass, where Yunjin is forced to lay down and spread her legs. She whimpers ‘no, no’ repeatedly, but the threat of the gun is right there, in his hand. Now it’s next to her head as he opens his zipper. 

“Pl-please don’t,” she whispers and her fist forms tighter. It draws even more pee from her panties.

“What’s your name?” the man coldly responds, fishing out his hard cock. 

“Yunjin.”

“Do you want to die, Yunjin.”

“No, please, no!”

“Then shut up—and do it again.”

Yunjin has no idea what he meant by this last statement. However, when he shoves his entire, surprisingly large cock inside her hot cunt, she doesn’t even remember it anymore. To pee in front of a stranger was pure horror, but this takes it to another level. If it weren’t for his hand on her mouth, not even the fear of death would have stopped her from screaming at this feeling. Pain, pain that feels great, fantastic, orgasmic even. Yunjin’s head begins to spin and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

“Hng, fuck,” the man groans and leans down to Yunjin’s face, “Yunjin, you’re fucking pretty. Great to have met you.”

A sinister laugh as he begins to bite the skin on her cheek and then on her shoulder. It’s not enough to leave marks, but definitely enough for Yunjin to feel something other than the cock hammering her pussy. It’s enormous size and width stretch her out more than any of her toys did before. Her flailing legs begin to go numb.

Suddenly, the man pushes his lip-sealing fingers into her mouth. He plays with her tongue, while hitting just the right spot inside her over and over. As she yelps, Yunjin comes to a shocking realization. The water on her face is not just tears, but also drools from the heavy pounding. Her mind becomes blank every now and then. It feels insane, better than anything she tried before. Something is building up in her lower regions and this filthy criminal gets her filthy pussy closer to another release. 

“Do it again, Yunjin,” he huffs into her face while retrieving his fingers from her mouth again— “I know you’re a kinky slut. Do it, or else.” —and wraps them around her delicate throat. Simultaneously, he begins to make out with her drooling mouth and press down on her throat. Yunjin screams into his mouth. Her body has given up. It’s completely resigned to him, but her mind is tormented by the inevitable. 

He hits the right spot, and her bladder is still so full. No, she can’t let it happen. She’d rather die and drown in her own spit and snot. It’s so humiliating, so bad, but at the same, her dopamine level has never been this high, it’s good. It will happen, it will happen, he just needs to tip her over, please tip me over.

“Or else. Now.”

The moment he stops fucking her tight cunt, Yunjin starts to piss again. A violent, clear stream erupts from her and she waters the grass and bushes around her like a gardening hose. Her hips buckle up, but she doesn’t feel his manhood anymore. She opens her teary eyes and sees the man's cockhead above her abdomen, unloading his warm, sticky semen all over the dress. 

Gooey white and runny light-yellow still shoot out of their bodies, but the two are entangled in a sloppy kiss with no care for the mess they are making on each other and the grass below. This might be someone’s property and they will surely notice. Not that Yunjin really cares, as her tongue is thoroughly sucked on and her limbs feel numb from the pleasure filled violation.

Suddenly, he reaches for the pee-soaked panties in her firm grasp. He guides her pale legs together and forces the undergarment up to her still twitching pussy. Yunjin gasps at the sensation of stained, wet clothing forced upon her. She loves how he continues to rub his thumb on her now covered clit and stares at her face, stupid from his attack. 

“Kinky slut. Now fuck off. No cleaning until your home. Or else.”

#

Quiet. Not a single sound. You’re able to close the door behind you without it creaking. Your wife will probably be asleep by now, but you want to make sure it stays that way. Carefully remove your shoes and sneak over the smooth tiles into the living room. Absolute silence. She is not here. Search in the kitchen, just a light humming of the refrigerator. There is no sound a human would make, until you reach the stairs. 

Wet squelching and soft moans. They get louder with every step you take upwards. You decide to leave the mask on and move faster, still careful to not stir up attention. The sounds of self-satisfaction come from the playroom. Take a look inside and there she is.

Chaewon sits on the couch, panties around her ankles. Three of her fingers slowly move in and out of her pussy as she rubs her clit in circles. She throws her head back against the rest and the moonlight gives you a perfect view of her pleasure ridden face and closed eyes. The squelching gets louder and in between moans, Chaewon forms a clear sentence.

“Yes, fuck her like that. Don’t stop, don’t stop—”

Three quick steps and you’re right in front of the half-naked Chaewon. She pulls her fingers out in shock but you replace the emptiness of her hole with yours immediately after. Chaewon gasps as you lean closer to her and pump slowly.

“My wife is a kinky bitch.”

“Sh-shut up.”

“No, you shut up. Keep imagining it. 

How I fuck your friend as she cries and screams. The way her body trembles while you look from the bushes. The way my cock pierces her pussy until she starts to pee all over herself.”

“Fuck!” Chaewon screams out and her body begins to shake.

“You like that? Then cum for me, Chaewon. 

Or else.”

[nightcolorz]

The weird thing about reading TVC is that while you read iwtv for the first time, chances are you’ll eventually get really fed up with and tired of Louis as a narrator. TVL will be like a breath of fresh air after the emotionally exhausting experience of reading from Louis’s pov. But eventually, once Totbt or even Qotd hits, especially once you get to Memnoch, you’ll be groveling at Anne’s feet, desperate for some Louis. Every time he shows up to fulfill his meek housewife duties and give his batshit insane husband some advice that he will inevitably ignore you’ll start vibrating and screeching and rereading the 10 pages he appears on over and over again like your starving

[perfectlywrongformend3s]

Millie’s Co-worker-Louis Partridge

A/n: I'm back to writing for Louis. It's so hard to think of things to write about him. If any of you have any suggestions feel free to let me know!

-Samantha

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your POV

I was finishing putting my shoes on when I heard a ding coming from my phone. When I looked at my phone, I saw that Millie texted me.

' Hey! I'm outside.'

I texted her back that I was coming down. Once I grabbed my mini backpack with all the things I'm going to need to visit Millie on set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Millie and I finally arrived on set and I was getting kind of nervous. I don't know why, but I think Millie could tell cause she grabbed my hand and said...

" Y/n, everybody is going to love you. Remember when I took you with me to the set of Stranger Things."

I smiled and nodded. She then continued...

" They loved you and kept telling me to bring you back so I already have a great feeling that my cast mates are going to love you, especially Louis."

I gave her a weird look.

" Why did you say that, especially Louis?"

She shrugged. " Just have a gut feeling."

I nodded and then took one more deep breath before we both got out of the car. I immediately grabbed Millie's hand again to calm my nerves, which made her laugh.

" Y/n/n! You're going to be okay. I promise you."

I nodded and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go.

Millie's POV

I was pulling Y/n/n around the set showing her the sets that we were filming in today. While I was showing her the hotel room Louis popped up and scared us both. We both let out a scream and I felt Y/n tug my hand behind me. Which would have made me laugh, but I was trying to calm my breathing.

" Louis! Don't do that!" I yelled

All he did was let out a chuckle. " I'm sorry Millie and Millie's friend."

I tried to hide my eye roll when I saw Louis look Y/n up and down. I just slapped his arm and said...

" Louis, don't be a perv. You're going to scare her."

I heard both of them let out a laugh. I then introduced them.

" Louis this is Y/n and Y/n this is Louis."

They both gave each other a friendly smile.

Louis's POV

I watched both of them walk around the set, but my eyes were just on Y/n. Something about her was making me feel things. I never believed in love at first sight, but I think I just experienced it. The thought of it is making me blush. I was trying to get my face back to normal when I heard Millie laughing. I turned around so fast to see them coming back where I was still standing.

" Louis, why is your face red?" Y/n said innocently

I looked down and stayed really quiet. I heard Millie whisper to Y/n. I rolled my eyes and said...

" Millie, it's not nice to whisper."

They just laughed together while walking to the makeup trailer.

Your POV

While we were walking to the make up trailer Millie said...

" I think Louis fell in love with you."

I lifted my eyebrows and denied it. " No, I don't believe you."

" Believe whatever you want. I still think he fell in love with you."

I smiled thinking about Louis falling in love with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we were down at the makeup trailer Millie let me stay in her trailer while she was working on set. I honestly started to get bored so I went on tik tok. I was watching videos on my for you page when I got an edit of Louis and it made me smile.

Louis's POV

I asked Mille where Y/n was and she told me that she was in her trailer. I nodded and started walking in that direction when Millie shouted...

" Going to your crush! Ask her out when you're their Louis!"

I turned around to give her a glare before continuing to make my way to the trailers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I knocked, but I didn't hear anything so I quietly opened the door to find her distracted. I tried not to laugh at what she was watching. I then walked up to her and said...

" Ooh! Looks like you have a crush on one good looking guy."

She let out a little scream and threw her phone. I chuckled and said...

" So who was that guy you were stalking?"

All she did was cover her face. I smiled and said...

" Y/n/n, it's all right I was just messing with you."

She let out a groan before telling me...

" You were not supposed to see that. God this is so embarrassing."

I just smiled at her and gently sat next to her.

Your POV

I could feel the couch dip, but I still kept my hands on my face. I was so embarrassed that he caught me watching edits of him.

" Y/n, look at me please." he said

I let out a quiet sigh and looked over at him. I saw him smile when he noticed that I listened to him.

" I just want you to know that I may have gotten a crush on you too, so you're not alone if you actually like me."

I could tell by his tone that he was super nervous to tell me that. I gave him a smile. " Really?" I asked shocked

He nodded his head. He then grabbed both of my hands and asked...

" Will you go on a date with me tonight?"

I smiled and said,  " Yes."

Time Jump

I was in my apartment with Millie freaking out about my date with Louis.

" It's not that bad Y/n/n." she said through her laughter

I groaned, " Millie, it's not funny."

She tried to consume her laughter for me, but then her face was getting red. I rolled my eyes and tried to pick out something to wear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was trying to finish my hair when there was a knock on the door. I panicked and before I could grab it Millie said...

" Don't worry babe, I got it."

I mentally thanked her in my head.

Louis's POV

I was nervously standing at her door waiting for it to open. I was about to give myself a pep talk, but I saw Millie in the doorway. She had a teasing smile.

" Well hello Louis. Please come in."

I walked in, but felt Millie grab my wrist before I could walk any further.

" You do anything to hurt my best friend, I will be at your door ready to murder you." She then put on an innocent face and shouted...

" Y/n/n! Your date is here!"

"Millie!" We heard her scream

Both of us let out a laugh. I then heard footsteps coming our way, so when I looked up to find her I was shocked at how beautiful she is.

"Hey"  She whispered

I smiled and greeted her with...

" Hi, you look stunning."

She blushed and thanked me. We then headed to the door when Millie said,  " Don't have too much fun."

We both were a blushing mess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was listening to her talk about a story that happened to her when all of a sudden stopped and looked confused.

" Um, what's wrong?" She questioned

Then it was my turn to get confused. " What do you mean?"

She let out a little giggle. " You're just looking at me funny."

I gave her a look. " I'm not looking at you. I'm just admiring you."

She blushed. " You're adorable when you blush." I teased

She laughed and covered her face. " Louis, stop!"

I let out a chuckle. " Why? You're stunning, and I'm not lying."

She smiled and grabbed my hand. " We'll thank you."

9 months later

Your POV

I was in the passenger seat of Louis's car. My hair was down, the windows were open and his hand was resting on my leg. I smiled at how my life ended up. We stopped at a red light and I felt him turn my face. He smiled at me before giving me a sweet yet short kiss and then continued driving to who knows where. Just as long as it has us both together forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope this isn't cringy, I really didn't know how to end it, but I think the ending worked out really well. I am going to try to get requests done this week. Also if any of you guys want to request Louis or anything else, feel free.

I know I haven't been writing much these months, but I really don't have an excuse. I think I lost a little motivation, but since I watched some shows that are new to me, but not new to the world. It has helped me with my imagination. Also I kind of turned into a book nerd because I have been reading non stop.  

All right I hope you guys like this one.

-Samantha

[msmargaretmurry]

I'm so sorry, this is totally not in response to the compliment post you reblogged (I'm afraid I can only compliment you un-ominously, you are my favourite author in the mattdrai fandom and ily ❤️)

but I've been meaning to send you this ask for the last two days and I can't wait any longer, I HAVE to know!! I know you're a busy person - so feel free to ignore this or answer it when you have time or keep your response really short!

So. I'm doing my quarterly HAW reread right now and I have two new questions that I think (?) I never asked you before.

during the scene in the dressing room of the gym, what are leon's thoughts? matthew is obviously a little ... affected by unexpected physical contact but I'm wondering about leon. is he only thinking "what a weirdo" or if he's taken aback by his own reaction too? what is going through his mind? please tell meeeeee!

when is the first time leon puts on matthew's shirt at home and in what context? does he already have feelings for Matthew? what is he thinking when he does it? when is the first time he wears it in front of his teammates and do they call him out on his non-existent connection to st. louis? I need more details about this soooo badly.

THANK YOU!

my dear miriam, i am always accepting non-ominous compliments 😂❤ thank you, ily. please find the answers to your inquiries under the cut.

1) the scene in the dressing room at the gym — both of them are such messes in this scene, lmao. matthew is being a dick because he's in a mood, and leon is confused and annoyed and also coming off as a dick, especially as seen through matthew's pov, who is just assuming the worst of leon's opinion of him at every turn and reading every hint of brusqueness or sarcasm as plain old dislike.

leading up to this scene, leon's been in toronto for a few days. he's mostly having a pretty good time, hanging out with connor, seeing some of the other guys, etc. connor keeps ribbing him that he should talk to matthew; leon keeps rolling his eyes and saying he's not interested anymore, which isn't NOT true, but mostly the thing is that matthew has never shown any real interest in leon, which has wounded leon's pride and therefore he has decided he's not interested anymore. (connor doesn't 100% believe him when he says he's not interested anymore, but mostly he just doesn't care if leon is lying or not because it's fun to tease him.)

anyway on this particular day he's partly kind of in a bad mood because his ankle is bothering him, and partly kind of in a bad mood because he feels a little like he's being made fun of, between matthew's instagram antics and how brady keeps coming to talk to him and connor. he's feeling a little paranoid that maybe someone overheard one of connor's teasing comments and told the tkachuks about it and now matthew thinks leon actively has a thing for him. which, even if he did, connor has earned the right to tease leon about stuff like that. matthew has not. and connor has always said matthew's a nice enough guy off the ice but he's been kind of standoffish the whole time leon's been here, and leon isn't going to automatically take it personally like SOME people, but it is making him wary!

so he sees matthew head into the locker room and is maybe staring after him a little obviously, and connor is teasing him like, hey, seems like a great chance to go talk to him, and leon is in just a grumpy enough mood to be like, fine, i'll go talk to him, and it's going to go badly, and then you can get off my back about it, right? and he stalks over there trying the whole way to think of something normal to say, but it does not work, so he gets into the locker room and just kind of blurts the first thing in his head, and the conversation stumbles and faceplants from there.

the thing is, if they'd had this conversation on a different day, when leon was in a better mood and matthew was maybe a little less in his own head, it probably would have gone much better. maybe leon would even have tried flirting a little (or a lot). as it is, even with the collective moodiness of both of them, he still has the urge to flirt a little — which is SO annoying, because of course connor is right and he's still interested. extremely annoying thing to have to admit to yourself when the guy in question is standing there outwardly being a dick to you. it makes him determined to not let matthew wind him up, which of course gets him more wound up, which is how he ends up grabbing matthew by the wrist. there is definitely a moment when they're standing there like that where he has this flash of a vision in his head like: what if this sexual tension is mutual, and he kisses matthew right now, hard enough to bruise, and they just have wild nasty sex right there in the locker room.

but obviously this does not happen 😂 he wouldn't have tried it even if connor hadn't come in, he still would have just gone home annoyed about the fact that he is apparently definitely still into matthew tkachuk, even when matthew is being a dick. (this encounter is also a big part of why he's so wary and put-upon when he runs into matthew at boots, lol.)

so that is that!!

2) leon and matthew's shirt from boots — so obviously leon wears it for the rest of that night at the festival, and then shoves it in his bag with his other dirty clothes, washes it when he gets home, kind of ignores it for the rest of the summer because he feels very weird about how things went down in that rv, but does grab it when he packs for edmonton just in case matthew wants it back at some point. because he has already decided he needs to talk to matthew, so if matthew wants the shirt back, he wants to have it on hand.

he doesn't actually start wearing it until after the first time matthew comes over to his house, because at that point he figures if matthew wanted it back he'd've asked for it. his matthew feelings aren't super strong at that point but they are like — they're there, he's not in denial about that. it's not a big moment or anything, he's just grabbing something to change into to bum around the house for the rest of the evening, and it's there, and he's like… sure, i could wear this.

he does not expect to get in his feelings about it, but as he's lying around with bowie that night he does get a little in his feelings about it, because he keeps thinking maybe he'll send matthew a selfie of him wearing it and then chickening out. he's weirdly nervous about it! and that forces him to think about why he's nervous, which forces him to acknowledge that he doesn't just have feelings, he's actually pretty invested in what they're doing, and he'd be really bummed out if matthew wasn't also invested. "selfie in your clothes" feels like real relationship behavior, so maybe he'll just save that for when he's a little more sure that matthew is on the same page as he is.

the first time he wears it in front of his non-connor teammates is when the oilers take a roadtrip to st. louis 😂 they chirp him about being a tourist. but after that he can wear it whenever he wants! everyone thinks he just bought it in st. louis!

i hope these were satisfactory answers to your questions!! i'm glad you're still enjoying the fic ❤❤

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 37: CHÉVALIER (2022)

1. The Introduction

Well, hello there, Citizens! I’m back and I hope you missed me! Sorry for the multiple delays and all, but luckily I’m back at it now!!!

Okay, so this movie has been on my radar ever since it got announced. A story featuring a real Black man who lived during Frev? Sign me up! This has excellent potential and also, to my knowledge, at least a partially Black crew so we get more representation of marginalized groups in crews and on the screen!

At least, those were my thoughts before I actually watched the movie, but we’ll get to whether it was a good media piece later.

I found the movie on Russian language streaming websites, but it’s available on Amazon Prime and Disney Plus for those who would like to watch the original English version.

This review is dedicated to @idieonthishill , @vivelareine (who has a review that unpacks the movie from a historical pov and is welcome to add to the review 😊), @theravenclawrevolutionary , @sansculottides , @citizentaleo , @saintjustitude , @avergehistoryenjoyer , @lanterne and @jenxiez .

Okay, let the Jacobin Fiction Convention reopen!

2. The Summary

The movie tells a story of a real man, Joseph Bologne aka Chévalier de Saint-Georges. Recognized son of a white French nobleman and an enslaved black woman, Bologne must navigate the cutthroat world of the Parisian high society, dealing with racism and trying to reconcile his “white” upbringing with his African roots.

Sounds interesting, but let’s see how the premise was handled.

3. The Story

The Introduction scene - a musical duel between Mozart and Bologne, was actually quite good in my opinion. So were the other beginning scenes of kid Bologne growing up in France as an aristocrat and being bullied by his white peers, plus his father telling him not to let society break him.

These scenes establish quite well that Bologne has to carve out a place for himself among French nobility and make a lot of effort to get even a hint of acceptance. Sounds like a nice setup, right? Well, unfortunately at times Bologne in the movie doesn’t seem to have much agency at all.

For example, his title is granted to him by Marie-Antoinette basically on a whim, handed to him on a silver platter because the queen was impressed by his fencing skills, which in my opinion isn’t enough to show a character who has to work hard to be accepted. I think it would’ve been better if Bologne had at least several impressive fencing performances to prove himself and show more of his skills.

On the flip side, there are characters who have a bit too much agency. For example, in the story it’s Marie Antoinette who is calling all the shots and giving all the orders in France, even though Louis is alive and well. It’s definitely jarring to see how people say “by the order of the queen” when the king should be the one mentioned instead.

I didn’t care much for the love triangle storyline, but it’s my own personal preference and also the fact that it, like many parts of the story, isn’t all that nuanced. So yeah, very bland and boring.

Yes, Citizens, unfortunately nuance has officially left the chat, especially when it comes to the main character. See, at first Bologne doesn’t give a shit about poverty and famine plaguing France. He is enjoying his cushy life and his friendship with the queen of France instead. However, you know what makes him join the Jacobins? A fucking PERSONAL FALLING OUT WITH THE QUEEN. Not promises of abolishing slavery or granting rights to black people, not his own ideals… Just fucking pettiness!

It would have been much better if he didn’t have a falling out with Marie Antoinette and signed up for fighting with the Republicans because he genuinely wanted to do what was right, not due to personal beef. Especially since that was why he joined Frev in reality – the real Bologne made a choice to do the right thing simply because it seemed to be the right thing to him. Not out of petty desire to get back at the queen.

Also, the conflict between Bologne and his mother about how he is acting “too white”… eeeehh. To me it felt very anachronistic but maybe I’m wrong and there is more nuance missing because EVERYONE at court had to carry themselves in a certain way to make it. If you couldn’t do it, you were socially FUCKED. Besides, Nanon (the mother) and her friends crack really mean jokes about Bologne being “too white”, which is… well, an INTERESTING way to endear him to his mother’s culture…

The movie is juggling admittedly anachronistic theme about black culture, anti-slavery message, court drama and love triangles… and the juggling is done quite sloppily too, I’m afraid.

Also, just to illustrate how inaccurate this movie is, the events of 1789 are shown happening in 1776 for some reason, which shows just how much the creators didn’t give a shit about research.

Moving on.

4. The Characters

I really didn’t care for Bologne to be honest. He shows selfishness and pettiness, doesn’t have enough agency in the story and is also very inconsistent. After falling out with Marie Antoinette, he claims he defended her, which… he didn’t! At least it’s not shown in the movie! What the fuck happened to “show, don’t tell”?! Also, his incredible talents aren’t really shown in the way they could’ve been, more on that in the soundtrack section. A missed opportunity, really.

Nanon, Bologne’s mother, is a real embodiment of the themes of slavery and trauma present in the the movie. She merely exists to push him to embrace his African heritage and to remind him that he will never be truly accepted by other nobles. I honestly wish there was more to her character, because she ends up being little more than a walking theme embodiment.

Marie Antoinette here is a capricious, fair weather friend. She CLAIMS to support Bologne, but does it in indirect ways out of fear that nobles wouldn’t appreciate her openly backing a black man. Even though she is an absolute monarch so she can afford to show her support more openly. Actions speak louder than words, and she is clearly not a true ally of Bologne.

Marie Joséphe, Bologne’s love interest, is a woman trapped in a miserable marriage and yearning to act in Bologne’s operas. While I do sympathize with her, I believe that there really isn’t much depth to her either. We just don’t learn much about her. This is becoming a common theme…

Also, just as a side note while we’re talking about characters, many white characters in the movie are shown as mere flat caricatures. I can understand why, but, again, this doesn’t show nuance as in reality, while Bologne definitely had to deal with racism, he was not only accepted, but adored as a celebrity, but we don’t see that reflected in the attitudes of other people towards him. Because apparently the brains of the spectators will implode when they see nuance in a modern movie, it seems.

5. The Setting

Personally I wasn’t that impressed by the costumes or the settings. I’ve seen much better ones. Nothing bad, but nothing outstanding either.

6. The Soundtrack

Where the fuck is actual music from that time period?! Where is music by Bologne himself?! It’s a fucking missed opportunity and I don’t know what prevented the creators from including the music written by the MAIN DAMN CHARACTER into a biopic about him. A shame that they missed yet another opportunity.

7. The Conclusion

Honestly… I can’t say much when it comes to what this movie is fucking about. The story is bland, lacks nuance, doesn’t follow basic historical facts and is pulled in a million directions.

For a movie about an obscure figure, it doesn’t show much of the things Bologne was known for and at times even strips him of agency. We need to have better POC representation, because this is just not it.

The movie is mediocre, bland and forgettable. Don’t waste your time on it.

With that, I declare today’s meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention to be over. Thank you for your patience and support during this hiatus of mine.

Stay tuned and stay safe!

Love,

Citizen Green Pixel

[around1302]

EPILOGUE: SIX YEARS LATER

SPARE PARTS: a series

LONDON

(W) strong language, oral (male receiving)

THIRD PERSON’S POV

FOUR YEARS LATER

Cheers ring throughout the arena, thumping so loud even the floors shook. Charlie watches off stage, hands over an agape mouth as she tries to process just how proud she is – which is a pretty impossible feat. Amelia’s screams deafen her from the left, her own jumping adding to the shakes and only making her husband worry because a woman only two months from her due date definitely shouldn’t be moving like that.

(Even if she insists she knows what’s doing by the third time round).

“Oh, my God, this is going straight to his dick,” Liam laughs, whistling so loud that a few fans nearly spot them hidden behind the curtain. It was absolutely essential no one saw them – this wasn’t their night in the slightest.

“Thank you so much London!” Louis belts to the crowd one last time, trying his best to soak those emotional final few moments in before descending and joining his friends backstage.

They all scream, engulfing him in a suffocating group hug Amelia’s forced to bow out from early. Louis is clearly high on adrenaline, nearly shaking with the thrill of it all, as his former bandmates lap over each other to congratulate him.

“God, it felt so weird at first,” he pants, nodding his thanks toward the crew member who handed him a water as they all made their way to the tour buses. His tour buses, “being up there alone, but it was incredible. I just want to go out there and do it all again.”

“Good job you’ve booked a whole ass tour then,” Niall grips his shoulders, kissing the back of his sweaty head.

“Lou, you were fucking ace!” Zayn shouts over the phone Liam nearly forgot he was holding. It’s a miracle the signal and battery even held up in the 02, especially from Zayn’s hotel in Florence.

“How’s the exhibition going?” Louis responds, taking Liam’s phone to face Zayn for a minute.

The five of them climb onto the buses, each taking a minute to gasp at how different it is. Like slipping on an old cardigan, they all expected to see the red leather they were so used to and the posters they’d chosen and the always stocked mini fridge. This bus is all Louis now.

“So good,” Zayn begins to break up as the bus quickly sets off to Louis’ London apartment, “I had a buyer yesterday, meeting with him after tomorrow’s gallery opening.”

Everyone gives their congratulations, then Louis hangs up the phone before Zayn turns into nothing but a blob of pixels, handing Liam’s phone back to him.

“I’ve never seen a crowd like that,” Niall shuffles on the sofa he would never say is uncomfortable, but, well. It’s no Spare Parts tour bus. “So impressive mate.”

Amongst the pumped up conversation about Louis’ first solo show, Charlie feels her silenced phone buzzing away in her back pocket. Pulling the device out, she can’t help the small smile that makes it’s way onto her face – earning knowing groans from the others.

There’s only one person who can elicit that smile.

“Just answer it.” Louis chuckles.

“It’s just because I told him to call if there was an emergency–”

“Answer it before I do!” Amelia intercepts, throwing a cushion at Charlie. She barely catches it before it hits her face, so as she stands to take the call, she sticks her tongue out at her best friend.

And a finger.

Charlie hears a muted, “love you too!” as the door to the bunks close and she’s alone.

“Hi,” Charlie accepts the FaceTime, unable to hold back her smile as her husband comes into frame. “Everything okay?”

“Look,” he holds up a toy, specifically a 2 year old Rubik’s cube that aims to help with colour awareness. Charlie thought it was dumb, but it’s hard to argue with Harry when it comes to Reagan. “Our kid’s a genius.”

Charlie scoffs. The cube has one side completed in red, all four squares.

“Our kid’s two years old,” Charlie cocks her head, “but did she really do that?”

“Yep, we sat there for like an hour–”

“We?”

“Well her fingers aren’t the strongest.”

Charlie breathes out puffy laughter.

“Who did the cube?”

A pause. Tired eyes crinkling at the seams.

“Okay, so I physically did it, but she told me where to go!”

“Rae can say, like, five words, she did not.” Charlie loudly guffaws. Then she realises Harry’s been whispering this whole time, so she quickly clamps her mouth. “Is she asleep?”

“Yes,” Harry yawns, “took fuckin’ forever.”

“Hey! No swearing with Rae in the house.”

“She doesn’t know what they mean, Char.”

“And what happens when we send her to preschool with that in her vocabulary?”

“God, I don’t know. Do we go to jail?”

Charlie rolls her eyes, Harry cracks a lazy smile.

“How was it?”

“Oh, H, it was amazing. He was so good.”

“I’m sad to have missed it,” he yawns again, “I always knew he’d kill it solo.”

“Mm,” Charlie props her chin on her palm, “go to sleep baby.”

“Not tired.” Harry lies, his fringe tickling his lashes as he shakes his head.

“You just yawned three times in five minutes.”

“I want to stay up.” He nearly sounds like a sulking child.

“I’m not going to be back till gone midnight.”

A pause. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Charlie chuckles, “we’re nearly at Louis’ apartment and I promised I’d actually stay at this party.”

“Do you have to?”

“If ready-to-burst Amelia is, I hardly have an excuse.”

Harry softly laughs, and Charlie wants to wrap herself in that laugh. In fact, she’s wanted to go back to her husband and her daughter and their dog for hours, but she can’t hide away from yet another party.

“I’ll be back at 12:30.”

“Okay babe,” Harry yawns. Again. “Have fun. Give Louis my congratulations.”

“I will,” Charlie let’s her eyes drop over Harry for a minute. After three years of marriage, the sight of him in sweats and blankets and messy curls is no less sexy than when he’s in his silk shirts and his–

“You’re pulling that face.” Harry snaps her out of it.

“What?”

“Your eyes,” Harry shifts, Daisy’s fur visible in the corner of the screen as she clearly hogs her side of the bed, “you sure you don’t want to come back early?”

The door to the bunks open and Liam’s head peaks through, “Charlie, we’re here.”

“Okay, I’ll be one minute.” Charlie smiles, standing up.

“You alright, Harry?” Liam shouts.

“I’ll be one minute,” grits lilts, shooing Liam out with a smirk.

“I really need to go now,” Charlie’s attention reverts back to the screen, to Harry. “I love you. Stay up.”

“Always,” Harry has to have won some kind of world record for yawning at this point, “I love you.”

2 YEARS LATER

Thousands upon thousands await him, chanting and cheering for him as the final recognisable song from his (carefully curated) pre-show playlist slowly fades to a halt.

He should be jumping up and down on the spot, breathing short, sharp breaths and recounting the lyrics he always forgets (and probably will always forget). He should be hyping himself up to play his first ever stadium alone, he should be warming up or fuck, praying.

But no. He’s nowhere to be found.

He’s late.

“Fuckin’ unbelievable,” his manger, Jeff, paces over Ibrox’s backstage, about ready to quit, steam leaking from his ears - cartoon or not, his top client is always the one to make that happen.

Jeff could accept late six years ago. It was nerve wracking, opening a tour alone after a controversial departure from the band. Plus, he was well aware of his reputation, Jeff knew what he was signing on for.

But the man’s twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake. The man’s not some stupid early twenty-something who sees this whole thing as a fun little quest he gets to dictate. Over the years, and especially through the pandemic, he finally matured. He finally realised that being punctual is actually okay! And more than that, it doesn’t give your manager and crew kittens three minutes before Golden is supposed to blast to 50,000.

… except when it comes to pre-show blowjobs from his wife.

“Oh, my God, baby.”

Harry throws his head back, fingers taking turns in fisting the cushy sofa beneath him and raking through Charlie’s curls. Her tongue swirls his tip, her own insistence for punctuality urging her to make him finish as soon as possible. She looks up at him through long lashes, knowing eye contact while she mouths him like that will have him tipping over the edge in no time.

It was never even supposed to happen. She only went in his dressing room to wish him luck, see how he was doing, give him a chaste kiss if anything. And, if she was a little honest with herself, she wanted to see his outfit before the world did.

Catching him half-dressed with the hair that told her he’d been nervously messing with it for half an hour, well. Who wouldn’t drop to their knees and kiss their way to his cock in their mouth?

“Yeah, shit,” Harry pants, forcing his head to roll forward so he can watch her. “How do you just seem to get better at this?”

Charlie smiles around his prick, injecting butterflies into his stomach and–

“Harry, I’m going to ask one more time.”

“One minute!” Charlie surfaces, barely able to breathe as she shouts at Jeff this time. Jeff’s grumbles are audible from the other side of the door, as are the sound of feet shuffling away.

If there’s one person Jeff isn’t going to yell at, it’s Charlie.

Harry’s eyes widen, embarrassment heating his neck, but Charlie’s hand pumping his shaft silences him till he’s biting blood into his bottom lip and announcing,

“Baby, I’m gonna–” he doesn’t have to finish his sentence before her mouth is back on him, and he’s coming down the back of her wonderful throat.

The noises he makes as he finishes only spur her to suck him through his orgasm, all the way till he’s pulling her away and twitching with sensitivity.

“Okay, you need to go.”

Charlie stands, wiping her mouth and shanking his boxers and trousers up for him while he lays back, dazed the fuck out of his mind.

“Huh?” He barely understands a word she’s saying, let alone able to comprehend where he is and what he’s about to do.

“You have a show, H,” Charlie straddles his lap to fix his hair, styling it quickly in the way she knows he likes. Harry’s hands instinctively fly to her waist, grinning lazily as she fusses over his fucked-out appearance.

“That might’ve been your best work, sweetheart.”

“Shut up,” Charlie mumbles behind a smile. He pecks her swollen lips.

Standing up, she adjusts herself, too. Her hair that had been ragged at by a feral Harry, her lipstick that was practically cheekstick by now. Her top, that he’d messily yanked down during their initial make out session when he insisted he just had to bite at least one mark into her breasts.

“Okay, you have two minutes,” Charlie checks her phone, grabbing his white tank and jacket from his coat-rack. Coming round from the head, panic starts to set in.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, standing up. Charlie turns around, noticing that gone-off look in his eyes which tells her he’s either about to brush it off completely or melt into a panic attack. Neither are exactly great coping mechanisms, but Charlie really needs to prevent the latter right now.

“H, it’s nothing.”

She throws him the tank, waiting for him with the jacket. He glances at her, that postcoital glow long gone. Anxiety was starting to seep into those gaps she had managed to close just a few minutes ago, but were starting to crack at the seams.

“50,000 is not nothing.”

Charlie puts his jacket on for him, afraid he’d stand there forever if she didn’t.

“50,817.” She corrects. He scowls. “Sorry.”

“Look, of course it’s not nothing. It’s a huge deal. But I know you,” she grabs his face, forcing his eyes to still on something solid. A stray curl falls against his forehead, framing his furrowed brows. “You’re going to get on that stage, and you’re going to fucking kill it.”

Harry huffs a breath, unconvinced.

“Honey, you’ve done it before.” Charlie smiles softly, brushing away the strand.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “with you.” He nudges his nose against hers, and Charlie wants to cry at his vulnverability. It’s rare she sees a Harry like this. For as long as she’s known him, he’s remained stoic in the face of fear, and although he’s not as rigid as he used to be – he’s never one to panic so much.

Endearingly, Charlie can pinpoint when he became much more of a worrier to one day, one person.

“H,” Charlie firms up, “it’s just like that. You have your band, you have me and your friends and–”

Harry interrupts the beginning of Charlie’s pep talk by grabbing her face and kissing her, hard. As if he was pouring out all of his nerves into her mouth and something in her lips and her tongue managed to just kill them. He pulls away, pepping light kisses against her cheek and jaw, making Charlie chuckle softly as his hair tickles her face.

“Okay, okay,” she leans back, forcing him away from her skin, “round two after the show, yeah?”

Harry holds his pinkie out. Charlie rolls her eyes, and holds her pinkie out. They kiss their respective thumbs and Harry nods.

“You got this.” She scrunches her nose, and Harry swears he feels his heart drop out of his stomach, which, how? After all this time, how does she still manage to do that to him.

It needs to be studied.

As he leaves his dressing room, Charlie gives him a swift slap to the ass, laughing as he turns and playfully scowls (despite knowing full well he loves it). She says a silent prayer for her husband as she follows him toward the stage, the sound of thousands of impatient fans already deafening.

They round the corner to backstage, where the team and Jeff are minutes away from breaking down themselves. Jeff nearly drops to the floor in relief at the sight of Harry, but wastes no time in calling tech over to mic him up.

Charlie gratefully smiles at Sarah, taking a fussing Reagan from her arms. Harry turns to let the team thread his mic through his jacket, and finds his remaining anxiety instantly dissipating at the sight of his daughter wearing entirely too big headphones and fisting at Charlie’s t-shirt as she complains about said defenders.

“Hi, princess,” Harry coos, reaching out for Reagan to grab his finger with her little hand.

“Daddy, you look funny.” Reagan giggles, wiggling enough for Charlie to set her down.

“Heey,” Harry lilts, getting the go ahead from the tech man before bending to his four-year-old’s height. “You don’t think I look handsome?”

Reagan shakes her head, brown curls bouncing against her cheeks.

“You look like play-dough.”

Charlie snorts, because she kinda hit the nail on the head. Harry’s band are giggling, too, as they prepare to get on stage. Harry narrows his eyes at them all.

“Do I have to wear these?” Reagan bashes her fists against the headphones.

“Afraid so, Rae,” Harry adjusts them so they sit a little looser on her head, but she’s still unhappy. “Your ears are too little right now,” he tries to explain, but if he knows his daughter at all, he knows she’ll be upset throughout the whole show because her hairdo’s squashed.

That’s Auntie Amelia’s damning influence.

“I don’t want to interrupt, but–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry stands, not deaf to the chants for him outside.

He kisses Reagan’s head, then turns to his wife.

“How’s Daisy?”

“Daisy’s fine,” Charlie sighs around a smile. Of course Harry’s worried about their dog right now. “Lia and Niall texted, she’s passed out on the sofa.”

Harry nods, clearly trying to delay the inevitable. So Charlie hurries it along for him, knowing he could stand there and ask stupid questions all evening to avoid that initial opening.

“Don’t fuck it up.” She winks, pinching his chin. Harry breathes short laughter from his nose, his lips squashed as Charlie pulls him for one final good luck kiss. Reagan sticks her tongue out at the sight of her parents’ affection, to which Harry does the same back and earns a tinkling of giggles back.

Charlie lifts Raegen so she can blow a kiss to her dad, currently jumping up and down and getting a few final stretches in before the opening to Music For A Sushi Restaurant fills the stadium, the screams become deafening, and Charlie watches as her rockstar husband takes the same stage her rockstar self did last year.

@lilfreakjez @be-with-me-so-happily @sirtommyholland @tpwksm @b-reads-things @tiaamberxx @daphnesutton @mleestiles

[cbrownjc]

I love the way you write about writing, so I have a writing question.

How do you think the inclusion of Armand in the interview itself will affect the narrative? In the book, part of the devastation was that neither Louis nor the reader saw the betrayal coming, since Armand is all mysterious and shit (until you realize he's basically an Unseelie faerie). Having Armand's side of things be relatively open, even if he's still hiding a lot, could take away some of the impact of that reveal that he was behind "the thing." It's not an absolutely necessary reveal, but Louis being the POV character who gives us facts as they come means that if they're open about Armand's plotting from the start, the audience can get frustrated with Louis for not seeing it coming. But there will be at least some clarity provided by Armand, if he's willing to talk about his Children of Darkness days in such a way where he looks positively feral (/pos) in the promo pics.

How do you think they can pull this off?

Hi! Sorry for the short delay in replying but, as I said, I wanted to think about this for a bit before I answered.

Warning -- Spoilers for the books and possibly Season 2 below:

So, of course, the key here will be how they structure when the reveal of not only "the thing" (and I'm assuming you mean the Claudia thing) happens. But also the reveal of Armand's backstory, especially the Children of Darkness stuff.

I can only speak for myself, but the way I think/suspect they will do it is to have the first few episodes play out exactly like the book does, with the majority of it being from Louis' POV; adding in Claudia's POV (via her diaries), and with the added bonus of Armand's POV sprinkled in as well, mostly being when he's interacting with Louis -- and with Claudia when she's with Louis. No indication there is anything amiss with the way he's acting toward either of them. (Claudia's diaries, of course, are missing more pages during this time.)

If done this way, then you'd only see of Armand what mostly Armand wants Daniel (and via Daniel, the audience) to see and perceive of him, mainly through his and Louis' POVs.

And all we, the audience, see of Lestat during this time is via Louis' hallucinations of him for the first few episodes.

Then, when Louis and Armand start telling the tale of Claudia's fate, play it so that THAT is the first time real!Lestat shows up, at the trial. However, there'll be something very off in what Louis and Armand (mostly Armand) are telling Daniel about this moment.

And that is when Daniel pounces and calls them out on trying to BS him again. (Bonus points if it's a memory from during the Devil's Minion Era that helps to give Daniel a clue that they are BS'ing him.)

And it's after this that the show starts showing the flashbacks, not only to Armand's Children of Darkness days but specifically his interactions with Lestat during then.

It's at this point where it is also revealed that Lestat made it to Paris from New Orleans before Louis and Claudia did (which is what happened in the book) and that Armand has kept him locked up in a dungeon the whole time, manipulating him to testify at the trial and all that.

And, of course, then we get the real flashback of the trial and Armand's orchestration of "the thing" (including the major reveal of the head thing he did to her).

If you structure and set things up this way, not only do you keep the reveal that Armand was behind "the thing" the whole time up until it happens, but you reveal the context as to why Armand is the way he is when you do so at the same time.

I could be wrong, but I think the show might very well structure things this way in Season 2. Doing the story this way not only explains Armand's line at the end of Season 1 ("When you hear it you'll be ashamed of yourself, ashamed of what you say to him now!") but also what we know about the show revisiting things from Season 1 again.

Doing things this way has you do all the revisiting/truth/twist revealing during the last 3-4 episodes or so of the season, after what amounts to a misdirect during the first 3-4 episodes of it.

Because I don't think Armand, at the moment Season 2 starts, will have any desire to tell the full truth to Daniel about all of these things at the start. I think he is very much in the mode of protecting Louis (in his eyes) from the truth of what happened in any way he can still think of. So he'll obfuscate as much as he can after Daniel broke through the narrative Rolin Jones said Louis came up with and told himself via what Armand has told him.

I said before I think Armand knows very well what Louis would/will attempt to do -- i.e. what he does toward the end of the book Merrick -- if he remembers everything and how it actually happened, particularly wrt Claudia. Which is why these false narratives exist in Louis' head the first place. And now, with the confirmation after TCA24 that Louis wants to remember the truth, (and wants Daniel to help him do it), I think that is what it's going to take for Armand to finally stop obfuscating things (along with Daniel calling him out as well IMO).

After that is when I think Claudia's missing/cut out diary pages will finally be produced, and we'll get the things that were only glossed over before from them (mainly her feeling for Louis matching up with what they were revealed to be in Merrick). Along with this being when Armand's full Children of Darkness backstory is revealed, as well as the full reveal that he was behind "the thing" concurrent with that.

So yeah, I think a misdirect right up until the trial wrt the narrative, and then a full revisit of the narrative -- with Armand's cult background fully revealed then -- is how you can structure things without giving away Armand being behind "the thing."

That isn't to say that we wouldn't/won't see anything about Armand's Children of Darkness days before that but, if we do, I think it would be presented way more sympathetically at first -- leaving out things like what Armand and the cult did to Nicki, which is what made Lestat come in there and bust Armand's cult up in the first place. If it goes like this, then Nicki actually being there would be revealed later, during a revisiting of that moment during the second half of the season.

I think this would be the way to pull it all off and could be easily done so in the eight episodes we have for Season 2.

[blueiight]

I was reading your tags to dre's published ask. Do you think while writing about these blood sucking monsters, Anne deliberately made one of them a former slave master? I mean the way this man during his mortal times had benefited by preying on the black race and the reflection of it in his fate where he is now in literal terms an entity who survives by preying on people? Or is it like twilight ( movies) where Jasper's past as a confederate soldeir is just dropped as if it's the most casual thing to shrug away.

( something is up with vampire media and all of them being connected to slave trade my god. Either it is a social commentary or people really do not have any self awarenesses?

i dont know about twilight book or movie to make a meaningful comparison to louis’s book counterpart. i wish i knew. and tbh, its hard to prescribe authorial intent on a dead woman who wrote a sprawling epic of 20+ books for 50 years , especially with shifting perspectives , namely pivoting away from louis to lestat as her MC bc of what fantasy/POV was more interesting to her. but i think in the first book there was some intention there, i cant just say how much. lestat wants to hunt the runaway slaves along the freniere plantation, and louis discourages him from doing it not out of compassion for enslaved people (which would be condescending and abysmal writing for a slaveowning character), but for his proximity to the freniere’s as fellow planters. ive talked about it a lot how its really interesting in the first 2 books that the american planter is created both literally + vampirically by the european aristocrat.. and theyre both parasitic beings in relation to the enslaved people, eventually draining them+ burning the plantation down. iwtv early book louis is resentful of lestat in part bc he thought lestat wanted his plantation, but when he learns who lestat is + where he came from, the power and will he has. hes far more genial to him. its a very dark book, and i think the fact that these characters are so vicious + melancholic is intentional on the authors part. i dont know how much race based chattel slavery is meaningfully explored from the perspective of the slaveowner, but book louis thinking of people in his captivity as fixtures, as creepy ‘things’ more proximate to the supernatural bc of their ‘african nature’ (that had yet to be ‘trained’ out of them) is a very probable, chilling, and haunting perspective of a former slaveowner to take even a hundred and some years removed from it. or if we take it as book louis immersing himself in his perspective @ the time. either way. and its pathetic when fans try to flatten book louis into ‘he was a good slaveowner’ cuz at that point theyre just conflating the movie with the book. i kinda joke that book louis is the vampire it girl bc he was such a terrible mortal LOL. im still indeterminate on the exact mode or purpose, or how much it was just about the aesthetic of gothic horror (re: the earth’s a savage garden). especially bc later books fixate on very discrete modes and metaphors of servitude/subjugation ‘being a slave to the blood’ is a recurring motif running antiparallel with the motif of ‘purifying the african/asian/foreign’ (through ‘admixture’ with the ‘european’) (s/o poacher bro gabi + talamasca bro dave ig) and in later works, theres the cycle of slavery through marius & armand.. marius, whos mother was a slave, purchases armand. chattel slavery took inspo from the romans in the idea of maternal based slave caste inheritance.. idk. idk. ive had very long rambly convos w ppl on here in the past (& im still a bit embarrased abt it) on this, but i think the reasons why fans dont rly get into it is cuz most ppl got into these books at a young age + was just into the cool lore or the queer shit and were able to handwave things as just aesthetic/era/quirky anne things etc. idk.

[dwreader]

I feel like fans need to understand that tv shows need to tell stories very differently from novels like the multi-perspective thing in the books isn't going to work on tv cause audiences generally do not want to see the same events over and over again from different povs. Viewers want to move on to the next story beat so it just makes more sense to converge them and do it once in a big climax than show bits and pieces over many seasons like we don't need to see lestat's pov in paris in s3 when the audience already knows what happened with the trial and claudia. It kills the show's momentum to go back and rehash things that have already happened.

That's also why I don't think the show will retell much of s1 from lestat either like maybe some additional context but s1 will largely stand on its own for both creative and business reasons. I think suggesting events might not be real and can be retconned over the course of multiple seasons tells the audience what they're watching is unimportant and that they might as well wait until the show's over to watch since it might all be fake anyways.

I understand the protectiveness over louis & claudia's story cause this is claudia's final season altogether and louis's future will always feel a bit uncertain no matter what the execs say cause there's just no basis for his storylines in the books. and really I never trust any white showrunners when it comes to poc so I get it completely. But I really do not think the 1795 bits will take up much of the season (probably close to how much 73' san francisco we'll see aka pretty minimal) but I think getting the full paris storyline in s2 rather than over s2-3 is beneficial to the show and much better storytelling. AR didn't know wtf she was doing and constantly changed her mind years later so the books reflect that but it's really not very effective storytelling especially not for tv.

[licncourt]

begin again COOKED as a post-qotd fix-it (fave fic! <3) but i need to know your thoughts on prince lestat/how you would re-do it in the correct way. to this day i still think LESTAT becoming prince monarch of all the vampires is one of the craziest decisions made during the novels. to me lestat is a prince in the same way that jack skellington was king of halloween (that includes the running away to cause delusional hijinks that ultimately jeapordize everyone)

Aaahhh thank you!! That fic is my child that I birthed so I appreciate it more than you know! It's actually BA's one year finished-iversary next week, my baby's all grown up.

I've talked about that before actually in this post about how I would rewrite the whole series, but I can expand a little here!

Firstly, this could've been two books instead of three. There was nothing going on in there that required three entire novels

Things that have to go entirely: aliens, test tube clone baby Viktor, Atlantis. Sorry, not salvageable

I think rather than the Amel thing, it would have been cool if the sacred core had started corrupting Lestat and altering his behavior as host, maybe changing him gradually into a animalistic, violent folklore-like vampire, making him slowly lose his mind like Mekare, or erasing his sense of self to become a blank host. Then it's a race against the clock and vampire magical biology to save him. This could be the first PL book

Ideally, I think this book should be narrated by Louis and focus a lot on his growth as a character as he finishes his personal. It would bring some happy ending closure to the IWTV version of him without being a jarring change. I also think having his POV for the best of his and Lestat's relationship would be a nice full circle moment from seeing him describe their worst. The idea of Lestat losing himself to the core and them potentially coming together too late would add good drama as well. Maybe this is Louis' follow-up memoir describing how they fixed things

The Rhoshamandes conflict can stay for the second PL and final VC book, but I think it could've been less boring if the drama between him and Lestat had been better fleshed out. They have a lot of similarities that weren't used to their full advantage. It would really highlight Lestat's growth to have him defeat what he could've become

When Lestat reunites with Louis, they would actually have some long, hard conversations about their past, ones that continue throughout the PL trilogy

Hopefully an explanation for why Lestat has made this 180 is included, even if it's just the crushing realization of his own loneliness and longing reaching critical mass after twenty years of who the fuck knows what

The cast is pared down to the strongest written and most interesting characters so the story isn't spread so thin, probably Lestat, Louis, Armand, Gabrielle, Marius, Pandora, and maybe a small handful of new characters with significance in the story. I think Seth, Fareed, Sevraine had the most potential to be good additions to the primary roster if she wanted to add on

Cool characters from the original like trilogy like Maharet and Khayman are expanded on rather than killed offscreen to make room for more Anne Rice NPCs. If we're going to kill someone from the trilogy, please God let it be David Talbot

This goes without saying I think, especially from me, but Louis would be restored to his former glory as a true main character alongside Lestat instead of relegated to lobotomized housewife. There was so much potential for him in an active consort role. We also don't get to see how he got to such a peaceful place at the end of PL, so I would like to see him work through some stuff on the page

I would either cut the Rhoshamandes/Benedict storyline because of how redundant it is with how it mirrors the Marius/Armand dynamic or do something to differentiate it as its own relationship. At the very least, maybe the similarity could be highlighted to become a character beat for Armand

As far as Armand in general, I would make him a much more prominent player. I think he's a great fit for a court setting and could create a lot of intrigue as well as adding coolness factor. I'm always torn about whether I like the reveal of his romantic feelings for Lestat, but in the interest of keeping SOME things intact, I would just play it differently. Primarily, I think he becomes way too agreeable (similar to Louis) in how he submits to and idolizes Lestat, so I would love to see him come into more conflict with Lestat in spite of those feelings. Maybe we can see him make some peace with their history and let go of that intense emotion for something healthier

If we're going to keep the sex injections (IVs, whatever), I think we should do more with it than have Lestat prematurely ejaculate into a random woman. I think there's potential for a very interesting new dynamic with Louis and Lestat. It would be cathartic and maybe an interesting part of their healing process and of becoming a real couple for the first time

That's what I can think of for now, but I might update later!

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 4: Malum Malus

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3 - Crucible

Summary: The past haunts you, tempts you, but now you need to come to terms with it before it ruins your chances to save Hawkins from the Darkness.

Word Count: 16.3k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Grief, Mourning, Yearning, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Smut, Sexual Tension, Ambiguous Sexual Identity, Unspoken Confidence in Sexual Identity, Psychological Manipulation, Dub-Con, Non-Verbal Consent, Vaginal Fingering, Grinding/Humping, Groping, Sexual Activity with Multiple Partners, Bloodletting, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: Wow what a weird month. Remember when I said I wanted to get 2 chapters out in October? Wild. Gonna stress the importance of reading the warnings in this one. We dive into some…dicey territory especially at the end. Do not give into the temptation. Or do. That's kind of…exactly what this chapter is about. (But seriously read the warnings.)

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also.”  - Robert Louis Stevenson, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

October 11, 1987

You were filled with a horrible sadness.

Worry.

You were alone...together alone.

He'd banished the others so he could focus on this...disgusting undertaking, but he'd put an obvious distance between the two of you purposefully. So he could do as he wished without your pitiful interference.

You knew this would be good for him: a singular focus, a task, a distraction. The end result would bring him to the light...but deep down you were worried he would be tempted further off the path as he forged through the darkness to get there.

"Be careful," you reminded him as the infernal red lightning flashed overhead. "You don't know what this will do."

"This will change things," he hissed excitedly. "It'll be different. It'll be perfect."

"Please." His hunger, his desire...it was palpable and overwhelming, saturating your surroundings. "Just...wait."

"It's just a little grave robbery," he chuckled darkly and closed his eyes. His form grew, large and imposing, and his hands reached for the heavens. "Everything will work out. You'll see."

"It's forbidden. Unholy."

He rolled his eyes and grinned at the challenge.

"You'll be here," he reasoned. "If anything goes wrong...you'll be here to fix it. You'll fix everything. Everything will be better. Soon."

He threw himself at the ground and drove his claws into the dirt, reaching...reaching...until the both of you shouted in pain at the resulting surge that tore through the Upside Down.

That tore through you.

You fell to your knees as you felt it pull at your heartstrings, as it ripped through your limbs, and you prayed...you prayed that everything would work. Because if it didn't...it would kill you.

And Eddie would be lost.

"You'll see," he sounded desperate now as he willed his little experiment to succeed. "Triumph over God. Over fate. We'll be together. Forever. Finally."

October 12, 1987

Deep below the Vatican laid the skeletal remnants of the Sanctuary of the Knights of the Holy Order. It was no longer in use--hadn't been for over a century--but it was there. Waiting. Kept as a reminder that mistakes had been made and lessons learned.

It had been a barracks, a place to train and rest, and mostly, a place to reflect and pray. To know oneself was to know God, because He lived inside them all. Through Him, they could overcome any challenge they faced.

Challenges that, occasionally, lived inside as well. Conflict between what was Good and what was Right.

Because the Sanctuary had also been a dungeon. A prison. A lab.

The Friars had been tasked to maintain the Sanctuary in those early days, to create weapons to aid in the fight when the Heavenly powers fell short. But in order to defeat something, you had to understand it. Creatures of Darkness had been captured, imprisoned, studied.

All of the books about the supernatural that you’d studied in your adolescence only existed because of the Order and the Friars of the Sanctuary.

But it was soul-splitting, hardening labor, and though the intentions were good…they were unethical. Unholy. But wasn’t that the way? Terrible things done in the name of goodness…were considered good no matter how terrible they were.

It wasn't until the Napoleonic Wars--when the Knights had been the worst kept secret in Europe after the conquest of the Papal States, as they did the bidding of the insidious Emperor--that everything changed. When Pope Pius VII returned from his banishment and saw that the Knights had been used for the bidding of one over the good of all, he reformed the Order.

All the dark deeds done in the name of good were buried. All of the research and experiments stopped.

And the Sanctuary closed its doors for good...

...except to you.

Where all the other Knights were anointed under the light of the moon, under the watchful eye of heaven, and were gifted with a blessing...your forefathers...you...were banished to the depths to make your vow.

That had been your first stop after you'd left Hawkins, so you could take the Oath properly.

You'd been led down the dusty winding staircase and made to explore the dank hole that still carried the stench of corruption and failure. You'd shined a light over the centuries-old dusty tomes, touched bones of saints, and viewed the body of your ancestor--the one who had turned down the offer of penance, the one who had killed his Pope--unnaturally preserved and kept on display.

He was a reminder, for your family and your family alone, of what would happen should you fail your life's purpose.

What a jarring experience, to speak the vow and then have your hand cut open to pour blood onto the knife still embedded in his heart.

They'd left you then, the Knights who'd brought you there, once they were sure you had taken the first solid steps on the path fate had in store for you. They clapped you on the shoulder, offered the briefest of congratulatory words, and then left you to, once again, crawl and climb through dark, unfathomable depths.

In hindsight, it was just a load of shit.

But for the briefest moment, you felt right. This had been the right choice, a birthright rather than a curse, and your determination would guide you to your ultimate goal.

It was a transcendent, euphoric experience akin to the moment you had realized you loved Eddie. You felt reborn once again.

Emboldened by this newfound confidence, you took the winding pathway back and you explored. The temptation was too strong. You read the tomes, you slashed through the air with a forgotten old sword inscribed with the Oath of the Order.

And you giggled as you pushed an old door open and found what you thought was an apothecary of some sort. You shined your flashlight over a set of shelves that was stacked with dusty old specimen jars labeled in antiquated script.

Your thoughts had immediately turned to Eddie; how the two of you had spent several hours making old pasta sauce jars look dusty and crusty and filled them with cornstarch, water, and food coloring for his Halloween campaign.

Venenum. Bilis. Sanguis.

You had intended to take a closer look when you kicked a jar that had been on the ground. Old and misshapen, it rolled into the shadows and you followed it. Several yards, until it hit a solid object and stopped.

The light of your flashlight hit the label first, Phlegethos Sanies, and you reached out to grab the jar.

Then you dragged the beam of your flashlight up and up, further and further.

Until you came face to face with a hulking skeleton with a horned skull.

A minotaur.

Chained to a chair, its head tilted back and jaw opened wide in a perpetual silent scream.

It was an unexpected sight and in your shock, your finger brushed the dusty, withered limb, and you saw.

Saw the atrocities committed all those years ago, heard the endless whines and screams that echoed against the stone, felt the pain that surged through every single creature that had been set upon that chair. That had been cursed to live out their final days in this place. In the name of Good. In the name of Heaven.

Your joy suddenly diminished and dread flooded you.

You already knew that the Sanctuary brought anything but sanctity to those who entered its depths, but to see it...to experience it in such a way--

"Go," the spirits warned. They amplified everything that you had felt less-than in the two short decades of your life and made you aware that while you were here as a Knight, you were very much other. Just like them. "You don’t belong here. Go. Before they get you next."

--would last with you forever.

That memory was what flashed before your eyes now as Steve threw Billy's unconscious body into the folding chair in the garage. As he and Robin wound rope around his body, and then latched handcuffs to his wrists. As they argued between each other and then spat accusations at you.

"He was dead!"

"How the fuck is he back?"

"What did you do? How did you do this?"

Mary Victoria stood beside you resolutely, and spat sharp words right back at them.

“She didn’t fucking do anything!” She leaned closer to you and muttered under her breath. “Did…did you do this? It’s fine if you did I just…need to know if I need to kick someone’s ass if they come after you.”

“I didn’t,” you reassured her numbly.

“Ok good. Good. We can work with this,” she nodded.

You tried to feel a little proud of her. She was dealing with all of this madness with more strength and composure than anyone had given her credit for.

Did she get a little—

“Shut the fuck up Harrington, stop pointing fingers.”

—enthusiastic? Yes.

However, you had yet to check on her, and if your state of mind was anything other than WHAT it was at that very minute, you would have dragged her out of this room so she wouldn't have to bear witness to what followed.

Because you could feel that it would not be pretty; feel it in the very marrow of your bones.

Watching a man crawl from a grave...to see him reach out to you before he collapsed...and then to have to haul him back to wherever it was you had come from...had been a draining task.

Especially when you did your best not to touch his skin.

The others didn't seem to have that hang up though, as they manhandled him, seemingly debated one another over what the rest of his life might look like locked up in this garage.

"How are we gonna keep him here forever? He's gonna need food, water, clothes."

"Maybe he'll just wake up and be normal?"

"Hargrove? Normal? Pfft."

"Do we need duct tape? Just in case?" Robin asked warily, her hand going to her mouth so she could chew on her thumb nail in contemplation. "He was pretty strong last time...with the Mind Flayer and everything."

"I don't think we need to worry about that," you finally spoke up, ready to get the show on the road. "Resurrection takes a lot out of you; it'll take a good amount of time for him to wake up, let alone be strong enough to do any harm."

Of course you were immediately proven wrong as he gained consciousness with a strangled gasp and coughing fit. Everyone jumped as they startled.

"What the fuck! What the fuck!" Robin backed as far from him as she could.

"Maybe you're not the expert on this that you think you are," Steve accused harshly.

"Alright he's awake now. What do we do? Douse him in holy water? Just start asking questions?"

"Can you guys shut up," Dustin hissed from the door to the garage. "Before we wake someone up. That someone being Nancy. You know she's gonna be pissed off when she finds out about this."

"Respectfully," Mare spat. "Fuck Nancy. Who put her in charge here? I'll fight her."

"Yeah we have a literal zombie tied to a chair," Steve scoffed. Unexpectedly, your curiosity was piqued and your mind began to race. "There aren't rules for this."

"Funny you say that," you took a step forward, closer to Billy, whose head hung limply as he took calculated breaths. As if he'd never taken a breath before now.

"What, there are rules?"

"Yes and no. More like...guidelines." You waved a hand dismissively. "And I meant...more your use of the word zombie. The origin of...zombie...is--"

"Listen, you gave us a lesson in vampires and resurrection last night too. But does it really matter?" Robin questioned.

You paused and looked around the garage.

Four faces stared at you expectantly, as though they were simply waiting for the next thing to happen. No silly lore, no story, no explanation of what would come next. Dustin and Mare looked curious enough, but it had been a long day and a longer night. They didn't have the patience.

For a moment, you were transported again.

Reminded of another life. Other lives.

One lonelier, so much lonelier. Twenty-some-odd years spent so obviously separate from everyone else, mostly silent as decisions were made for you; thoughts and opinions and words buried deep that would never matter because your fate was already written. And then another, where you were seen and understood. Your silly stories were shared and embraced. Appreciated and loved. Not just by one person, by many...but because of one person.

It had been years since you had walked away from it...but had taken just as long, it took until right this second, to resign yourself that you might never have it again.

You shot a tight, apologetic smile at the others and then crouched down in front of Billy. You gently called his name.

"Can you hear me?" You asked. "Billy?"

He groaned and raised his head weakly, his bloodshot eyes slightly unfocused until they landed on you. He fought against the restraints for a moment, but you held your hands out to try and calm him.

"Don't...we have you tied up, but don't be afraid. It's just a precaution. You're safe here."

His shoulders heaved for a moment but he relaxed.

"Good. Now...we have some questions. Do you know where you are?" You looked at the others and then back at him. "Do you know who you are? Recognize anyone here?"

He stared at you.

"Billy?"

Just kept staring.

"This is going nowhere," Steve sighed.

"No, no, it's disorienting," you explained. "Give it a second. How long has he been dead for? Two years? Almost three?”

“His body doesn’t look like Barb’s.” Robin noted. "Or Heather’s or Chrissy’s or—”

“Ok now you want to hear what I have to say?" you snarked, and you almost apologized when Billy's lip quirked the slightest bit. Then it was gone.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

So there was something inside--someone--with a sense of humor.

You thought back through what you'd seen in Max's memories.

Billy wasn't...he wasn't a joker. Could he be? With friends and people he felt safe with, sure. Would he laugh at the expense of people he saw as lesser than him? As a way to bolster his own confidence? Yes. And could you say that the people in this room were definitely ones he would target for his own sense of security.

But this wasn't that.

Those empty eyes--abyss-like with blown pupils--stared at you still as you shifted, they followed you...and you froze. It was microscopic, barely noticeable if you hadn't been looking right into his eyes.

You'd seen that before.

The demogorgon. How it had followed you. Disinterested in the hunt, in Wayne. Specifically gunning for you.

It had reached for you. Just like Billy did before he collapsed.

"Kas?" you questioned, and without even looking, you could sense everyone else in the room stiffen. The air grew tense; a shift in the mood. "It's you in there right? How are you doing that?"

He blinked.

Your skin erupted in goosebumps.

Not an answer, per se, but enough of one.

"That's a neat trick," you goaded, hoping to maybe get a little more than just a blink. "Can you do that to all of them? Or just this one? The empty ones."

No reaction this time.

You stood to your full height and he watched. Watched as you paced, so purposefully. In a human body once again, instead of a demogorgon, but akin to a predator tracking its prey.

In those dark depths, there was need. Hunger.

But you had a need too. Kas was challenging you, had been, and you needed to win.

You were suddenly determined to get something from this revelation. Could you get him to bend? Get him to break? Reveal his hand unintentionally.

Victory so sweet you could taste it.

"You don't like me, do you? Is that why you're sending your pets after me?" Billy blinked, his eyes widened. "You want me? You have me. It's ok, you don't need to talk. I can still hear you loud and clear."

"Uhhh..." Dustin timidly piped up from the door. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, if...if Kas really can see everything--"

"It's fine," you dismissed.

Mary Victoria huffed beside you.

"Listen, you might as well talk," she said to Billy, to Kas. "Give us something. You're not going anywhere, and it's not like we're gonna break your knees or anything."

It was a joke. Of course it was a joke, it was how she dealt with stressful situations. But...it got you thinking.

"I mean, we could," you whispered.

Robin, Steve, and Dustin all reacted harshly, admonishing you, asking if you'd lost your mind. And maybe you had. For a brief moment, the memory of the minotaur's skull, mouth open in a perpetual scream, flashed before your eyes.

But triumph was too tempting.

So you locked that memory away. Used it as a motivation even. Worse things had been done for lesser causes. This was...

What was it?

What were you fighting for anymore? For Hawkins? For Eddie? For yourself?

...this was war.

"I mean he's tied up," you gestured to him. "Just like Mare said. Might as well."

"I don't know what you are besides...absolutely bonkers," Robin dismissed you, then looked to Mare. "But aren't you a nun? Aren't you supposed to...not...commit sins or something."

"I'm a novice," Mare shrugged. "I'll say a few Hail Mary's, it'll all be ok."

"That's...it's still Billy's body," Dustin tried to reason with you. "We're not here to torture him."

"Why not, maybe he can give us answers?" Mare disagreed.

"No!" Steve immediately tried to step between you and Billy, especially as he saw your hand reach for the knife on your belt. "No torture. That's not gonna give us answers; that's just gonna hurt him."

"What do you care?" you scoffed.

"He's a person. He's innocent."

Anger burned through you at the hypocrisy. Sure Billy was innocent when you wanted to take control of the situation, but they had no problem tying him up because of the potential danger.

"Billy is a vessel," you explained through gritted teeth. "A vessel for Kas. Just a suit. He isn't in there. Do you know that? None of you want to hear my explanations...fine. But just trust me...there isn't enough of Billy left spread across the entire universe for him to be in there. But Kas is. And we need answers. So I'm gonna get them."

"Then you're gonna go through me," Steve challenged you.

"Through us," Robin agreed and stepped beside him.

You rolled your eyes and clenched your fists.

"We don't have time for this."

"What if it's just a big misunderstanding," Dustin interjected again. "What if he's trying to get a message to us."

"What kind of message?" Mare questioned curiously.

"Fat fucking chance," you scoffed. "He's killing people. You said it yourself, he wants out. He's hungry. What's he gonna do if he can get to this side? Boom. Feast."

"No, Henderson's right," Steve agreed but you wouldn't be stopped.

"You were all for hunting him down a few hours ago."

"We were going to hunt the undead. The ones attacking the town."

"One chance at guessing who sends them to attack the town in the first place."

"Maybe he's just trying to get information from us in return? To make a plan?" Robin suggested.

"Yeah," Steve snapped his fingers at Robin in agreement. "Maybe that's all it is. He wants to get a message out. Wants to communicate and get information and make a plan but he chose Billy Hargrove and he's having a rough go of it. So why don't you just...do that thing? Jump into his mind. Talk to him that way. Like you did with Max."

"M-Max?"

The tension in the room broke and everyone looked at Billy.

Something changed.

You watched the transition happen, as one pupil constricted, then the other.

"M-m-Max," he stammered.

As his cheeks flushed. As Kas gave up control...and something else gained it back.

"No," you shook your head, unwilling to accept defeat. You pushed through Steve and Robin, and dove for Billy. You grabbed the sides of his head and looked directly into his eyes.

You clawed your way in. Desperately. Savagely. As though something deep inside of you yearned for it. And you knew you could do it, because he did it.

You became Billy Hargrove, for the briefest of moments.

You had met him once.

Met was a generous term.

A halloween party Eddie had dragged you to, one where Billy had behaved abysmally and then got too drunk to know up from down. You had seen him slip in the kitchen, heard the thunk when he hit the floor, and it had only been your intention to go and see if he needed help.

But when you touched his skin...the hollowness you felt there...it shook you.

A man fully living shouldn't have been hollow in that way.

Eddie had warned you after the encounter to stay as far away from Billy as you could, some irrational fear of the danger he might bring. But your fear of that hollowness had been enough to make you agree. 

He was dangerous...a man...and, you thought, a beast.

After you'd had enough time to process it though--after you'd encountered more people and gained life experience--you had come to an explanation. You likened it to scratches in wood, deep divots that had been carved out of his being, either by sadness or cruelty, his own or others you couldn't know. 

He was not hollow, it was just that someone had taken a little too much of him than his being could withstand giving.

You'd met plenty of people like that in your travels. Untouched by the supernatural, simply...irreparably damaged by the fact that they were too human to keep going.

Pair that with what you'd seen in Max's head, and it was no wonder he'd been an easy target for Vecna's dark ambitions.

It was why you had been wary of touching him when he collapsed on the grave. If he was already empty before he died...what would you find?

Now though...you had touched him. Dove into the depths of his mind, in a different way than you had with Max. You didn't just brush the edge of his mind to search his thoughts, you needed to be amongst his very being.

And lo...nothing again.

In fact, less than nothing...worse than nothing.

You were empty...empty...dying. Your limbs felt heavy and weak.

Then you realized.

You weren't breathing.

You took a deep breath and it felt like your lungs had expanded for the first time in centuries. They were stiff and crackling. Even so, the dank, stale air felt like a relief to breathe.

After several breaths you took stock of yourself. Not dying anymore. Living. Again.

You looked down at yourself; you still had some visage that was your own but when you clenched your hands, you couldn't feel. You watched your fingers move, willed them to do so, but couldn't feel the movement.

You wondered if it was a side effect of the resurrection. What did the dead feel after they died? Their spirits, you knew. Their bodies, a mystery.

Until Billy.

What a curious thing though...

He had already been emptied so thoroughly before he died. What was left to put back so he could return to the land of the living? What had come out of the grave with his body? What had Kas scratched from the bottom of the proverbial barrel to put back into him to get him to rise again?

You observed your surroundings then. You were in a desolate hallway, dark and filled with doors. They were all open, broken, and hanging off their hinges. Abandoned. Empty. Akin to something twisted and surreal that Dali might have imagined.

Suddenly footsteps echoed behind you--in front of you? Direction didn't exist here--and you spun to try and find the source.

There.

An open door with a faint light shining through it. You caught the slightest glimpse of a clawed hand grasping the door jamb before it disappeared within.

Fight or flight activated, you were quick to the chase.

Kas was here. He was still in here.

The ground beneath your feet was uneven, unstable. With no sense of self, you kept faltering, and you knew you couldn't continue to exist in this place for very long.

There were no physical limitations here, however. So you could cross great distances much faster than in the real world, and you reached the door much quicker than you might have in the real world.

You were gonna catch him, confront him, kill him right here and now.

But when you crossed through the threshold, you found...yourself.

Not a reflection; an actual duplicate of you.

All of your sense of urgency and anger dissolved.

And in its place, confusion took over.

She looked worn and disheveled. Clothes ripped. Split lip. Legs shaking as though it took all the effort in the world to stand.

Both of your eyes widened at the recognition of one another but before either of you could say anything, that clawed hand wrapped around her waist and tugged her through a tear in the ether. Her mouth opened in silent protest, her hand reached out, and she was gone.

And so was Kas.

The frustration returned and you let out a roar of expletives, ready to tear the room apart.

Only for a faint sound to capture your attention.

Across from you was another doorway...another room with brighter light this time. Almost blinding. Sun shining through an actual window.

You slowly crossed the distance and found a familiar figure crumpled on the floor, breath shallow, ropes around his wrists. He weakly tried to get to his feet and you did nothing but watch.

Your focus had been so singularly on Kas that you didn't realize that Billy would be in here too. A remnant. A revenant. His spirit torn...just like your own mirrored visage had been.

You rushed to help him, and when you did, you glanced through the window and saw yourself again. Bigger this time. Time frozen. Eyes locked.

Strange.

In your arms, Billy stirred.

"Who..." he spoke weakly, head resting on your shoulder. "Where..."

"It's ok," you reassured him, your conflicting emotions forgotten temporarily. "It'll be ok."

You summoned the strength inside of you, hoping you could access your body out there from...whatever you were in here, and you poured the healing light into him, until he could stand on his own.

Until he could scream.

"Max!"

You wrenched your hands away as you were thrown back into your body. Steve and Robin grabbed you as you backed away and Billy started struggling against the restraints again.

"Max, Max,” his voice got clearer and stronger. “Where is she? Is she safe?”

He grit his teeth and closed his eyes and pulled at the handcuffs. To everyone's surprise, the metal gave just the tiniest bit.

"We really should have used the duct tape," Robin muttered.

"Billy, everything's ok," Mary Victoria stepped around you and attempted to soothe him. She shot him a gentle smile and held her hands out in front of her to show she meant no harm. "Max is alright. She's at home. Safe."

He took a few deep breaths, eyes darting between hers, before he relaxed. He hung his head again.

"I don't...don't..." He made a whining noise. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Mare repeated. "What don't you know?"

"She cried over me. But I don't know her. Who is Max?"

Mare whipped around to look at you and you sighed wearily and shook your head. You didn't even know what to think at this point.

Clearly everything you knew was wrong.

"What do you remember then Billy?" she asked.

"I..." his brow furrowed in concentration.

Contemplation.

"Don't," you spoke up and his gaze shot to you, then to your knife, and back. You shrugged Robin and Steve off of you and held your hands out just like Mare did. "Don't strain yourself. It'll happen when it happens."

He nodded and wet his lips.

"I remember...Max hurt me too," he began. "Before. I scared her and she hurt me. Why did I do that?"

"What else?" Robin asked.

"The...I think he was here." Billy nodded over to Steve. "And I hurt him. I'm...I'm sorry..."

"Shit, never thought I'd hear Billy Hargrove apologize," Steve muttered in disbelief.

"Shut up Dingus."

"The beach. And a woman. A room...a diner. Silly Billy."

You'd heard that before too...an echo of the human parts of Billy that had been present in '84, despite the great gouges inside of him.

"She called me her Silly Billy."

"And you," he nodded towards you, and then his eyes got stormy. "And Eddie."

Mare looked to you again.

"Eddie, that's your..."

"My boyfriend, yeah," you nodded. "Halloween a few years ago. Eddie...roughed him up a little bit. Why would you remember that though?"

"Because it hurt," Billy strained, his voice hoarse. And despite the hoarseness, there was a clarity there. An understanding that you simply couldn't fathom he possessed given his state. But he did. And you know it was because Kas made him aware, and that simple fact burned you.

"What else would he let me remember?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know...a lot of things."

"About Billy?"

"...no."

There was a pause and the mattress glub-glubbed as Mary Victoria shifted on the waterbed.

"About Eddie?" she asked, peeking down at you as you laid on the floor.

"No," you responded truthfully, startled that it was probably the first time he wasn't on your mind. "About Kas."

She sighed.

"Listen, maybe you need to let this Kas thing go," she offered. "Focus on fixing things here first. That was your plan right? To help get Hawkins back on its feet."

"I can only fix things here if I stop him," you replied. "Otherwise he's just gonna make them worse again. And he knows it. That's why he's after me now."

"After you?"

"You heard me before, when he was...possessing Billy. He's sending things after me. To kill me, probably. One of the vampires--"

"I thought you said they weren't vampires."

"--and then a demogorgon when I was out visiting Wayne. And now...now Billy himself."

"Why?"

"I'm a thorn in his side, why else?"

"Could be anything else," Mare offered. She was quiet for a moment, then she continued. "Maybe you think he wants to stop you. What if Dustin is right? What if he needs you? What if he needs your help too?"

"Then he could ask! What are these games, just ask for my help. Simple as that." You watched as she gnawed at her lip. "What is it?"

"I don't...I don't know. I have a theory. Maybe. I just need to think through it for a little bit. Let it bubble like a stew. Could be something; is probably nothing. But maybe this...this is all he can do. He's calling, you're just not listening."

You stared at each other for a moment, and she looked incredibly unsure of herself. You could sense the words that were coming next. Forget it, forget I said anything and you stopped her before she could.

"Maybe you're right," you admitted with a sigh. "I know I was quick to jump on the let's kill Kas train of thought. But can you blame me? There are rules. And he's breaking them."

"He probably doesn't know them."

"You're right, probably not. But neither do you." It was your turn to feel apprehensive now. Guilty. Instead of defensive; you turned into a bitch when you got defensive. "How are you doing? I haven't checked on you really. I'm sorry."

"You've only been a fucking mess yourself," Mare sniffed judgmentally and then winked. "Can't really blame you though. I'm...handling it."

"Not overwhelmed yet?"

"Most certainly overwhelmed," she disagreed. "But not enough to quit."

"Good."

"You can make it up to me next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah...you're not getting rid of me that easily."

"And what if I die here Mare?" The words escaped your mouth instinctually before you realized they had, and you both froze. You especially, your mind going a million miles an hour. "I mean..."

What did you mean?

What did you mean?

"You know, this whole thing...this whole curse is supposed to end in fire for me anyway," you shrugged. "It could happen any time and this...Hawkins is personal. I know I'm not being as careful as I would any other time. I mean, look at me already. What if I die here?

"What if...what if your theory...whatever it is...is wrong? What if everyone is wrong and Kas just needs to be stopped and I'm not strong enough and I die?"

You said it all in one breath and heaved by the time it was all out.

"Are you afraid?" she asked after a beat. "Of death?"

"Not enough to stop doing this dumb shit, apparently."

"You said you wanted...wanted to break this curse...for Eddie."

"I do."

"So are you afraid of dying? Of leaving him? Is that why you're telling me?"

"I'm afraid..." you paused. "I'm afraid I've brought you all this way and I'm gonna leave you to fend for yourself. I'm afraid that I'm gonna leave Hawkins worse off than I found it. I'm afraid...I'm afraid of leaving him alone because losing me will hurt him more."

She reached out a hand and you met her halfway to grasp it. Tightly. Desperately.

And you thought...you thought she'd do what she had been doing. Thought that she would offer some comfort or some words of wisdom to make you feel better.

He's in Heaven and he's waiting. He's waiting for you.

"What if he isn't in Heaven?" she asked, face entirely serious. She gripped your hand tightly. "What if he's in Hell? And all of this...is for nothing? You do all of this...you break your curse...and you're still alone?"

You could hear them then, a thousand years of your bloodline screaming what should have been the answer in your ears. Your grandfather. Your father. Fuck, even your grandmother who had no curse upon her but spent her life and all her goodness to prevent your damnation.

And then you thought of Wayne…his words. The way you tried to deny them.

“Shit, what's a guitar gonna do, or snacks, or...or a t-shirt? When he's stuck in Hell?"

Your throat tightened, but the response was easy.

"I guess I'll see him in Hell then."

You'd never seen him cry before.

Well, you had.

But not here. Not in this place.

Seeing the blood drip down his cheeks shook you to the core.

"Was it not enough?" he sniffed pathetically. "Why wasn't it enough?"

What could you say to that?

There would never be enough.

Not until you could save him. If you could ever save him.

How could you fill an empty cup...when the pitcher was empty too?

He roared when he didn't receive an answer, startling you.

"What did you expect to happen?" you asked wearily. Even if you couldn't help him, you could attempt to alleviate his woes. Just like you always had. That was your purpose: a balm to his soul, a buffer. "You couldn't control the others at the beginning."

"And I can't control them now either, can I?"

"They're willful."

"Aren't they."

"But so are you." He scoffed, but you continued. "And you're cunning. You have a plan."

"You have plans. Plans that fail, if you haven't noticed." He slashed at you with his claws, lashing out, but you appeared on the other side of him instead.

"You just need to try again," you offered sagely.

"And what good would that do?"

That was when the tide changed.

You'd been through if before but...there was no before that was quite like this. Something was so minutely different this time that you didn't realize it until it was too late.

His mind raced, his mouth raced faster, as he voiced his thoughts and put them forth into this dastardly dimension. If things were better, it would have reminded you of all the times he voiced his harebrained schemes. All of the silly little plans he had for the two of you.

Instead, they began to take shape, dark tangible things that you simply couldn't keep up with. Couldn't put to sleep as fast as they were brought to life.

Further and further into temptation--desperation--he went, and the more you tried to hold him back, the more he resisted.

You thought it was him, succumbing to the darkness once again. Drifting over the edge but then the realization came.

It was you.

"Why are you still here? Why? You act like you're here to help... but you're a burden. You've...you've ruined it. Ruined everything! I have to fix it. I have to."

He slashed again and you could suddenly feel it. For the first and only time. You felt it carve through you. Not painfully, not really. But the space where he would have run you through...disappeared.

You disappeared.

You'd done it on purpose before. Countless times. Disappeared into the void of him. Back where you belonged. But this time...this time he made you go. He dispelled you.

How long had it been, how long had you tried. How much had you given to him, to sustain him, with no hope of ever getting it back. He took from you. Took and took and took. It could have been a day or an eternity.

Suddenly there's no possible way to cling onto this reality, to hold him back from careening over the edge into darkness. Because you found yourself falling as well.

Lost.

You tried to do it on your own for so long, but now it was truly the end. You'd always known it would come. You'd worked so hard, you hoped you could save him before it came to this.

You needed her now...just as much as he did.

Lost.

You reached out one last time as his shoulders heaved, as the thick red tears ran rivers down his skin. Fingers brushed over his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips.

A farewell.

You melted into him one last time; you'd wait until you were well enough to return, whole once again.

You could rest now. What a relief.

Lost.

October 14, 1987

Having an alliance with others was a strange concept to you.

Although you did most of your work alone, it was not out of the realm of possibility to have a partner from time to time. Partner. Singular. They were few and far between, though. And for all intents and purposes, in Hawkins, that was Mary Victoria.

Your right-hand-man, your conscience when you were led astray, responsible to make sure the other didn't get killed.

Now, suddenly, there was a whole team that had your back. Mare, obviously...but Steve, Dustin, and Robin too.

It felt like an episode of the Brady Bunch.

Was this what it felt like to have siblings?

"Friends," Mare rolled her eyes when you made the comment to her. "They're called friends."

For an entire day, you all lurked around the Harrington's with the acute knowledge that you had a shared secret and that you'd have each other's backs any time someone potentially came close to finding it out.

Steve was the main person to run out to the garage whenever someone needed something. It was his house, after all; no one questioned it if he wanted to roam around at will or if he wanted some areas off limits.

Food was the next hurdle; Claudia did a great job working with limited supplies to feed an entire house of friends and neighbors. But sneaking an entire extra helping was challenging. Dustin was often the person to keep his mother distracted while extra bits of mashed potatoes or casserole were scooped onto a plate. And then you and Mare brought the food out to Billy, taking turns feeding him and keeping watch.

You all had agreed that you needed to keep him tied up and in the garage. It was just too risky, especially with Kas potentially lurking somewhere deep in his mind.

But Billy barely said anything when you went to visit, barely even acknowledged someone else was there short of opening his mouth for a bite of food.

Mare wondered, at first, if that meant Kas was back. It didn't take much for you to realize that no, Billy was the only one in there. He was just...disinterested. Disoriented.

Recollecting the mismatched pieces of a puzzle that he had no idea how to put back together.

He had moments of recollection sometimes, as he began to shuffle those pieces around. He'd make...parts of a picture, but not enough to discern anything truly useful. He'd ask about people sometimes. Mostly about Max. Ask if he could see her, which Steve harshly declined.

"Not a chance," he scoffed. "You think I'm gonna let him near Max? Any of those kids? After everything they've been through? Over my dead body."

"Maybe it'll help," Mare suggested. "With the memories. To see his sister. For them to talk."

"You wanna know the first time I knew Billy was Max's brother? Hmm?" Steve put his hands on his hips and looked at her expectantly. "When he beat the shit out of me, could've killed me. Max had to knock him out with a tranquilizer to get him to stop."

"Holy shit."

"So no, even though he seems innocent...different, he's not getting near those kids."

And then Billy would go nearly catatonic once again, back to shuffling the pieces around until he could make sense of himself again.

Another meal. Another bout of silent chewing and half-present responses. Another opportunity for Mare to try and coax him out of his shell.

"It takes time," you explained.

"How much time?"

"I...I don't know. Enough."

"Well," Mare sighed and loaded up a spoon to feed him. "Guess we're just gonna have to help him get there." From that point, she always tried to get a response out of him.

Mainly, by making airplane noises as she fed him.

"It's funny," she defended.

"It's infantilizing," you chuckled from your place at the door.

"I mean...it's still kinda funny," she shrugged, sending another biplane full of pot roast and veggies onto the next mission in Billy's digestive tract.

"We don't need funny. We need him to see he can trust us." You looked past her at Billy then, realizing that he might have been sick of being spoken about as if he wasn't just sitting there. "You can trust us, you know? When you're ready."

He just blinked at you.

"Maybe...maybe to start feeling alive again, he just needs to hear our life stories too," she sat up straight and cleared her throat. "Hi Billy. My name is Mary Victoria. I was born in a small town in Nebraska--"

And on it went.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for two whole days.

You bounced around different topics, trying to get Billy to react to something. Anything. California, sports, the supernatural, politics, action movies, musicals. And he did. Sometimes there were just sighs or a huff that sounded adjacent to a laugh. No rhyme or reason to what it was he reacted to. Just...a reaction.

Better than nothing.

“…and then Mr. Perkins said 'nobody waves anymore' and Steve joked 'it's because we're not near the ocean.' And I thought it was funny," Mare put her hand on her chest. "But Robin just rolled her eyes."

Billy made a long-suffering sigh as he chewed his creamed spinach.

"I know, it wasn't funny," you agreed with him, then you glanced over at her. "It wasn't funny."

"It was! I like corny jokes!"

"Obviously."

"Do you think they're dating?" she asked, suddenly, out of left field. "Robin and Steve?"

"Uhhhh."

You didn't really know how to respond to that. Billy, the most reactive that he had been in the past few days, scoffed. Or sneezed maybe.

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, they seem close," she shrugged. You narrowed your eyes at her. "He's cute. I wouldn't put it past him to have a girlfriend or something. End of the world and all...and there's this...I don't know it's gonna sound silly."

"What is it?"

"Ok, disclaimer, I'm not going crazy." She pointed at you in warning. "Remember that. I just...whenever they're around each other, there's this string. It isn't there. I don't see it. But it's...I just know it's there. I notice it with a lot of people, actually. Especially here."

Interesting.

"What kind of answer do you want?" you asked her and leaned back in your chair. "The one you want to hear or the long one?"

Mare groaned and rolled her head back.

"Knight Lesson 102," you offered her. "Or, more fitting, like...Nun Graduation Revelation."

"But moooommmmm." She stomped her feet a little. "Can you do a worse job of reminding me that I'm not supposed to feel any kind of...attraction towards anyone. Married to God and all of that."

"You didn't take your vow yet."

"Whose. Side. Are. You. On!"

She clapped to emphasize every word.

"Long answer first," you began with a laugh. "Everyone here has a connection that spans what the eye can see. Those strings you feel, did you also feel them between Steve and Dustin? Robin and Nancy? Hell, even between us and them now, those bonds are forming.

"The Moche civilization in Peru believed that your life-force flowed through you and into others the more you shared yourself with them. And vice versa. Through conversation, through dance, through love and friendship. You make connections with everyone you meet and become a complex web of the people whose lives you touch. It's what gives us empathy."

"So that means I'm still connected with my douche ex. Great."

"Yes and no. Yes, because he's left his mark on your life and you wouldn't be you without him. But also no because you both severed that tie a long time ago."

She seemed to accept that answer.

"What about Robin and Steve then?"

"Do I think they're dating?" You asked for clarity and she nodded. "I don't know, how could I? But you can sense their bond is stronger than others, right? I thought they were siblings when I felt the connection between them. I think they just...will walk through life on a shared path for a very long time."

"Sounds like fate," she snorted. "Or soulmates or something."

"Soul..." Billy rasped, the unexpected sound causing you both to jump.

He jolted in his chair against the restraints, coughing and spitting and gagging. The convulsions lead to all manner of bodily sounds emanating from him.

"What the..!" Mare exclaimed. "What's happening to him?

"I don't..." You shook your head. "I don't know."

The anticipation was the worst. In fact, you anticipated the worst. You had thought, initially, that it was Kas trying to jump back into his body, and you could be ready at the very least. Ready to confront him, ready to jump back into Billy's mind in order to grasp Kas with your own two hands.

But you didn't anticipate nearly enough.

The food came up first. Days worth of food. It wasn't Exorcist-adjacent pea soup; it was undigested, save for chewing, and mostly whole. It spewed from his mouth violently and you both backed away as chunks landed near your feet.

"What the fuck dude!"

"Can you heal him or something?"

"I can try."

"Yes, please, try. Jesus fucking Christ."

You took a step forward, hand already outstretched so you could take a hold of him, but he spewed the last bits of foot and bile, right in your path and you jumped before it could hit you.

The dirt was next. He choked on it before he erupted.

Dust, then pebbles, then thick clumps of wet earth. It clatters and splats all around you. You dodged a hailstorm of bits and pieces, the likes of which would put the blast of Mount Saint Helens to shame, and then watched in horror as a slow, constant flow rolled and dripped from his mouth. Like magma.

Tears flowed down his cheeks and he spat to clear his airway, only for more gravel to be expelled.

"Are we sure he isn't the Antichrist or something?" Mare grabbed your arm, and pulled you back to her. To protect you or herself, you couldn't be sure.

"That isn't a thing." Although you couldn't be sure of that either.

"Then how do you explain all of this? What the hell is happening?"

You didn't know. It was beyond you.

You tried to race through everything that you'd read and heard of and seen. Dream interpretation and superstitions and cautionary tales. Your mind conjured images, interpretations of God vomiting angels and expelling them from Heaven and into Hell, another of Him spewing dirt to create the Earth itself, and a third of Zeus freeing his siblings from the belly of the dreadful Kronos.

Let alone the symbolism. You didn't have time to analyze all of it.

If you had a hundred years, if you could stop the flow of time, maybe you could come up with some idea of what this was and how to stop it.

"Help me!" He sobbed around mouthfuls of dirt and dust. "Please."

Instead you needed to act, react, as fast as you could.

"Help him!" Mary Victoria screamed.

You took the steps forward again to try and use your healing power to stop this, but you recoiled for the briefest of seconds, as Billy's eyes dilated again and blood began to leak from his dear ducts.

Kas.

But Billy wrenched his eyes shut and screamed, deep and guttural and painful.

"GET OUT!"

You didn't hesitate to take two fingers, slot them into his forehead, jamming his third eye chakra.

"Sleep," you commanded.

And his eyes rolled back in his head as his body stilled.

You left your fingers there, as the last little bits of dirt dripped from Billy's mouth and bounced down his chest and to the ground. You tried to feel him, heal him, but you felt...

Nothing.

His body was still, you couldn't fathom where the dirt and the Earth came from. There was no supernatural cause. The fragmented pieces of him remained as intact as they could be; he, for all intents and purposes, was whole. Even the connection to Kas in his mind had been severed, you felt no pathway leading to the Upside Down or its Master.

Strange.

You wondered if it had anything to do with his resurrection, if somehow the act of crawling from the ground had caused something to settle within Billy that he needed to regurgitate to finally and fully return to life. Maybe if you touched the wet earth that had been expelled from him you could feel some kind of psychometric evidence of its origins. And know what had caused it. The way God could feel Abel's blood scream from the earth after it was spilt.

Was this how Kas had resurrected all of them? Had their rebirths been just as violent?

Frantic footsteps made it to your ears then, voices clamoring over one another at the door. You and Mary Victoria turned as the knob jiggled and Dustin and Steve's voice overlapped with another.

You expected a shitstorm. An argument.

You expected Nancy.

You steeled yourself for her. Expected her. Hardened your heart so that you didn't burn with the sting of her venom.

But as the door was thrown open, all you saw was betrayal in a pair of innocent eyes.

"What on Earth," Claudia stared at the scene before her, horrified, her attention unable to fully land on one thing, "is happening here?"

And you didn't know what was scarier.

Everything you had just witnessed.

Or her disappointment.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Ok so maybe I'm not but you don’t need to leave.”

“I think it’s better if I do.”

“No one asked you to go. You don’t have to do this self-sacrificing thing.” Mary Victoria snorted.

“This isn’t self-sacrifice,” you retorted. Hands on hips, you turned to her. “Or have you not read the Bible. Exile. It’s kind of a thing.”

Claudia was…concerned.

Disappointed, yes, that you all had kept Billy a secret. But concern was the main reaction once you’d all sat down to explain how he came to be in the Harringtons garage.

And alive.

She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t yell. She wasn’t angry.

She wrung her hands and her voice wavered as she formulated questions and responses. Her eyes kept sliding over to Dustin, who would take her hand in his and reassure her.

It’s ok mom. We have a plan. Don’t be afraid.

Claudia looked to everyone for confirmation. To Steve and Robin, even Mare. But when she got to you, her eyes only held betrayal.

You were good at what you did. Probably, no one had really ever told you that you were shit. Cursed? Yes. A snarky bitch, a meddler, a loudmouth, etcetera etcetera. But bad at defeating darkness? Never.

You knew you could protect innocents. But what was the point if you didn't...protect innocence.

And that’s when you decided you needed to go. To give them some space without your bullshit.

“Self imposed.” Mare rolled her eyes. “Like an asshole.”

“It's really not the insult you think it is,” you explained. “I’m just going to stay with Wayne. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to take Billy on a drive and maybe knock a few marbles loose—”

“Careful. He doesn’t have that many marbles to begin with.”

“—then we can continue the work on your Knight lessons ok?”

"And save Hawkins?" she followed up and you shot her a strained smile. "Yeah. Sounds good."

"Stick close with the people we trust," you nodded towards the group of your friends who had congregated at the door to witness your temporary exodus. "Don't let them do anything to Billy, and most importantly, keep yourself safe."

"I thought you'd be back tomorrow."

"A lot can happen in one night."

You threw your bag into the backseat of your car and Mare pulled you into a hug.

"You be careful too, ok? No going out after curfew, even if you see something shiny luring you out into the woods," she cautioned.

"I'll be f--"

"You're incapable of staying out of trouble. And I know if you're not careful you're gonna get yourself killed. It's like you're tempted by danger or something."

"Who's the mom now," you joked.

"Shut up."

And then you were off. Back across Hawkins to Wayne and Lover's Lake.

You forewent the radio this time, opting to drive in silence and listen to the whistling wind and any potential wing flapping. The whole radio feedback misfiring happened twice more since the little mishap with Sympathy for the Devil and you decided that 3 strikes so music was just off the table for you for the foreseeable future. And as much as you'd like to have listened to Fats Waller crooning on that old mixtape Eddie made you, about how dark and stormy it was inside this heart of mine, you listened to the distant thunder as an actual storm moved in instead.

"Great," you muttered and stepped on the gas a little faster so you wouldn't have rain pelting you in the face, thanks to your non-existent windshield.

That was gonna be a bitch to fix.

The windshield, probably part of the frame. On top of the air conditioning was already long gone and the heat on its last leg. Power steering had gone out once as you were driving through the Rockies. That had been fun to find a place to fix.

You were just old enough to remember your grandfather bringing the car home, brand new. Of course at that time you didn't understand. You just liked standing on the bench seat with your hands on the steering wheel going vroom vroom. The whole family took a drive.

It felt like such a normal memory in comparison to...literally the rest of your life.

Then a few weeks later, he was gone. And so was your dad, replaced by your father.

Nonna wore a set of black robes that first year--from which, came the tasseled cord belt that hung from the rearview mirror--to mourn her husband and son, and then to dedicate herself to your salvation. And Mom had been the one who started taking the car out for joyrides to escape from her bleak reality instead. She’d taught you how to drive, taught you how to question your faith--question yourself--in the car.

It was a strange, contradictory symbol of destiny, denial, and devotion.

And then when you skipped town, temporarily dodged your fate, the car became your problem.

Your problem that was now navigating broken streets and taking detours to avoid another fissure that seemed to have opened up overnight.

That wasn't there a few days ago...

In fact several streets seemed to be inaccessible when they'd just been clear just the other night. And the further you got in your detour, the worse it got, until the road seemed to literally shake and split right beneath your tires.

"What the fuck," you muttered as you swerved around a crack that was actively forming beneath you. "Why do I feel like I've jinxed myself? A lot can happen in one night. Fuck me."

Your headlights flickered and thunder cracked overhead.

And as you rounded another bend, your car, quite literally, died.

It was like a wave, a tangible spark, an electrical overload. The headlights flickered, and the radio turned on of its own volition and wavered to an ear-splitting screech that almost, almost sounded like your name, and then it died. Everything died. An audible power down of the electrical system before your engine sputtered out and your car rolled to a stop on the side of the road by some trees.

You turned the key in the ignition. Once, twice, stepped on the pedal. Nothing.

Until your right hand began to tingle. Burn.

You wrenched your hand off the key and used your other hand to press down into the space between your life and head lines, trying to massage out the pain. It felt...beyond your being. It felt heavy. There was something in there. A weight. Could you dig it out? Dig a hole into your hand and dig the hot burning thing out?

You were a fan of horror movies, of action movies. Media was one of the few indulgences that you were allowed to have growing up. Books and movies instead of friends. Breaks in between learning about real life fantasies and terrors to entertain yourself with made up ones.

It made things a little boring sometimes, sure. You always knew when a jumpscare was about to happen. Could tell when the plot was about to reach a climax. You'd ruined a few movies for Eddie and the guys before. Even spoiled one for your own father on the rare occasion he'd been around.

So it almost felt too predictable that the broken ground just a few yards away from you began to split further. As the smoke emanated from it. As the gate began to pulse and glow ominously, in time with the heavy, burdensome pain in your hand.

As a clawed hand slithered over the edge.

"Well shit," you cursed through gritted teeth. You kicked open the door and rounded on the trunk. You fumbled with the latch with one hand, threw it open and then dug. You'd already fucked around with your weapons the other day when you and the others went vampire hunting and then they'd all been thrown back in haphazardly.

You needed a stake, a knife, something.

"Least if I die here in Hawkins, I don't need to get another car."

A crucifix got tucked in the waistband of your jeans. The revolver loaded with silver bullets shoved back there too--what gun safety?--and you'd managed to shove the blade of a knife between your teeth to hold for a second, when you were assaulted by a cacophony of sound.

Wings flapped heavily, a jarring screech that made your blood run cold, and then the laughter.

It was taunting you.

Heavy footsteps dragged on the pavement, one after the other. Closer and closer.

"Are you hiding from me?" the reedy voice cooed patronizingly. "That's cute. You can't hide. Not when I can feel the fresh blood coursing through your veins."

There was a deep inhaling noise; slightly slurred, like a breath taken through clenched teeth. Then a loud flapping and suddenly the voice was on the other side of the car.

"Delicious."

Your eyes scanned over the contents of the trunk, thoughts swirling as you wondered how you could cause the most damage and buy yourself the most time.

If it was cruel irony that your car would die and you'd be attacked in the middle of the forest after you told Mare that a lot could happen in one night, then this was just some kind of karmic intervention.

The jar of peppers.

You knew it was a weird, unfamiliar thing that she'd just latched onto because she wasn't used to it and it seemed funny, but superstition was real. And a jar full of peppers, garlic, vinegar and holy water--maybe some other mystical whispers from 20 years ago thrown in if you were lucky--would surely do some damage.

You were almost sad Mare wouldn't be here to see it in action.

You grabbed it and shuffled closer to the edge of the trunk, as close as you could to peek to the side and witness him stalk closer to you.

A smug, elongated smile and demonic black eyes just like the others had. His skin was grey and stretched over his bones, and the tattered remnants of a sweater vest and chinos, of all things, adorned his body. One clawed hand was pulled back, as if ready for an attack as he got close enough, as were his wings.

And most prominently, a scar stretched across one cheekbone.

"Oh Fred," you taunted around the blade in your mouth. "I'm not a cheap date."

You shuffled to the side swiftly and threw the jar at him. It shattered upon impact with his head and doused him in the spicy, spiritual mixture, sizzling and burning his skin. Watching it filled you with a sense of triumph; finally, the slightest bit of an upper hand on Kas, who you were sure was behind this whole mishap.

He definitely was.

Fred was not as fragile as Barb had been though, and he already started to heal once the shock wore off, so you knew you had to act fast to finish him off.

Bloodthirsty, the revolver was in your hand before you could stop it and you let off one shot after another. They ripped through him, tore chunks from torso and his wings until you heard the click click click of the empty barrel.

You thought--you hoped--the handful of bullets would be enough and maybe you'd get lucky and puncture his heart.

Unfortunately you were not lucky. It wasn't even luck. You were not a good shot to begin with--as demonstrated by the fucking crossbow--and even if you were pretty ambidextrous, you favored your right hand. Which, thanks to the heavy nagging pain that coursed through it, meant you were at a disadvantage.

Still, Fred faltered and roared in agony as his body expelled the bullets. He tried to flee, but you wouldn't let him. His wings flapped uselessly when it came to flight but he still used them he propelled himself through the trees, with you close on his heels.

Thunder boomed overhead as you ran and it soon began to downpour. The dirt became mud and your sneakers slid as you pivoted and turned, struggling to keep up with him.

Despite being wounded, he would have the advantage. You were only human, despite your abilities. And you were a human that hated running. So all he had to do was flap his wings a little harder, or scurry up the trunk of a tree...and you'd lose him.

You slowed your pace and came to a stop, then noticed...your surroundings seemed familiar.

You wiped the rain from your face and looked around. The trees were less dense here; actually, several had been knocked down entirely, trunks covered in deep scratches and splinters. The forest floor covered in dead leaves. And there was one tree that looked...magical in and of itself. With moss and mushrooms and an assortment of sticks and...yarn.

A shelter against the elements, almost.

You jumped as something brushed against your leg and then you laughed to find a tiny little face looking up at you, entirely unamused at your antics. Big green eyes, whiskers twitching, grey fur damp with the rain; her tail flicked back and forth curiously. This was her kingdom, after all; why were you here?

"Hello," you muttered and wracked your brain for a minute. You'd met this cat before, early on in your relationship with Eddie; he'd taken you out here to meet her and her kittens, to feed them like he did with the other resident cats of Forest Hills. You'd made a joke, thanks to all of the downed trees, that she was some elusive cryptid.

"Don't need to knock down any trees when big, scary metalhead Eddie Munson is bringing you Chicken of the Sea, huh?"

"You wanna get married or something?"

"Fuck you Munson."

Your heart ached at the recollection, at the sweet innocent declaration that...that would never come to pass.

"Lucy," you cooed, basking in that memory. "Queen Lou."

You knelt down and offered your left hand in greeting, but she swiftly dodged and pressed her head into your right hand. The heavy pain and throbbing dissipated almost immediately as she nuzzled and purred. But the pain in your heart remained.

"You out here by yourself?" you asked. You looked around in realization; the trailer park must not have been far off. "Or did you come back here to see what the commotion was? Sorry about that."

Lucy lavished in your attention for a few moments, enjoying your scratches behind her soft, damp ears and then she startled. She turned, hackles raised and you were suddenly on alert too. Wings flapped wetly overhead and she bolted to chase after whatever creature fled.

"Shit," you muttered and began to follow. You might have joked that she was a monster but she was most certainly just a tiny little kitty. Definitely not equipped to fight an...undead bat thing.

But damn, she was quick.

The trees got more and more sparse until you were in the condemned remnants of the Forest Hills Trailer Park itself.

Fuck, it was bleak.

Out of all the damage you had seen in Hawkins, the aftermath of two "earthquakes," this was the worst.

Most of the buildings looked intact just...abandoned. Doors left open and swinging, laundry left to rot on the line. The brightly colored remnants of FEMA markers spraypainted on the sides of the trailers were especially vibrant against the grey sky. The ground was uneven and cracked, great plates of earth tilted this way and that to compensate for the thick, cavernous crack that carved through the center of the park. Soil was overturned and cursed smoke bled into the sky, though the rain kept it from rising too far.

You wondered if the veil between this world and the Upside Down was the thinnest here. This was, after all, the place where Vecna first punctured his way through with his Curse.

A hiss gained your attention and you kept going, following Lucy despite the dread getting larger in your chest. Further into the park until it opened a cavernous maw that bore your heart to the world as you found yourself in front of the Munson's half-destroyed trailer.

The frame of the trailer was shorn apart, walls and siding jagged as the origin point of the gate started in what used to be the living room. Wayne had confided in you, about Chrissy; how he'd found her body, mangled in a way that would forever be burned behind his eyelids.

You hadn't realized at the time that Chrissy had been the vampire from the square. The one who had tried to carry you away. Would it have taken some weight off his mind to know she was...alive? If you could call it that? Did he already know? Or would it add insult to injury knowing this was a worse fate for her?

A soft brrr and your eyes zeroed in on Lucy sitting on the counter in the kitchen, the open mouth of the trailer exposing it to the elements. She watched you for a second before she jumped off the counter and disappeared down the hall leading to Eddie's room.

It was then that the ghosts decided to appear.

You crawled up the side of the trailer, on the half-demolished porch steps and into the kitchen. There the two of you stood, huddled next to the stove, arms around each other as you waited for the water to boil for hot cocoa and marshmallows; so stupidly affectionate after making up from one of a dozen dumb fights. The ghosts disappeared as you passed, and suddenly there was no pan on the stove. There wasn't even a stove anymore. The wall of mugs gone. Even the doors on the cabinets were half-broken.

You continued down the hall, where you could hear your own fists pounding on the side door on that fateful night. After you crawled from the Earth after the tunnels collapsed, the only place you knew you'd find comfort was here. Was with Eddie.

Was that why Kas had chosen to resurrect Billy in such a way? To mirror your own ascent, crawling from Hell? Born anew?

The phantom of Eddie ran out of his bedroom and opened the door for you, and you collapsed against him sobbing. You watched as he held you, soothed you, wiped the dirt off your skin and promised it would all be ok. And as he kissed your forehead, they were gone.

There shouldn't have been electricity, it should have been the first thing FEMA cut off...but a light flickered in the bathroom.

On and off and on and off and on.

On. Off. On. Off. On.

On and off and on and off and on.

You stared at it, felt your throat get tight.

You blinked, hard, and the bulb over the sink exploded.

It wouldn't misfire anymore.

If only you'd have investigated that a little further, just to save yourself the heartache that awaited you in the bedroom.

Because as soon as you stepped over the threshold, you became overwhelmed. This was where you spent so much time together, why wouldn't the ghost be active and abundant here?

Sitting on the floor by the stereo listening to mixtapes. Sleeping, talking, writing, laughing. There was one of you pacing at the foot of the bed. One of him running through the door with a bag of McDonalds French fries for you to share. A set of you in the bed, limbs intertwined, whispering words of devotion as your bodies became one.

You stared at them the longest, eyes burning because you refused to blink.

Once you did they would be gone and you would be alone again. Alone with the person you hated the most in the world: yourself.

The you in your mind would always have her Eddie, but the you here would never have him again.

You ached to be back there.

What you wouldn't give to be back there, back there with him. Turn back the clock and say damn Hawkins, damn destiny, damn the world. You would sooner rip out your own heart than follow Gabriel to the tunnels that night in November of 84. The words, the oath, the fire, the dirt. Why did you go there when you could have come back here?

You could hear Gabriel's stupid voice echoing in your head, words that he'd repeated too many times after you'd ask him why, when, how you could come back to Hawkins, back to Eddie.

"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret. Worldly sorrow brings death."

"Then I would rather die," you hissed now, aloud, as you watch the ghosts reach the pinnacle of pleasure and melt into each other. A great, glorious being with two heads and four arms, four legs, and one heart.

You held the tears at bay for as long as you could until you shut your eyes. The ghosts began to evaporate around you, whispered words faded into the din of the rain outside, until it was silent.

Until you were alone again.

You didn't want to open your eyes again, didn't want to face reality again, but when you did...you found a pile of cassettes on the ground.

You kicked them, gently, nudged them with your toe. Almost as though you expected them to disappear too.

And when they didn't, you knelt down and looked through them.

You should have been looking for Lucy. And further still, you should have been trying to find Fred before he healed too much and disappeared back through the gate, if he hadn't already. But curiosity got the better of you.

But no one was here to judge you. Wayne wasn't here to catch you snooping, wanting the last little remnants of Eddie that you could latch onto before you walked away and left the trailer to rot. Sure, you had asked Wayne and you could ask him more, but it was the little things that he didn't know, the secret things that were only between the two of you, that you hungered for again.

So you moved around his room and dug through the little piles of abandoned objects, blew off layers of dust, and scraped the tiniest bit of psychometric energy off them and directly into your heart.

Eddie screamed "this is music" when Robin called his tapes shit, that he needed real music. How many times had he said that to you when you'd attempt to put one of your tapes in?

A loaf of bread that, now, was just a moldy, desiccated mess. But a brush of your fingers over the plastic brought an Eddie sitting on the floor quietly tinkering away on an original song and getting hungry for PB&J.

Postcards and posters and random bits ripped out from magazines all scattered across his dresser and then tucked into the side of the mirror...two tickets.

Ozzy Osbourne with Special Guest Metallica Tuesday April 8, 1986 7:30PM Market Square Arena

Tears built up in your eyes as you ran your fingers over the faded ink.

The tickets being handed over to Eddie and Jeff who then started screaming on the sidewalk in front of the box office, how Eddie refused to let Jeff keep his ticket.

"Nah man, I'll keep them safe. With my life."

Talking about it to Wayne once a week, how they'd have to miss a set at the Hideout but it was ok. How often did you get to see Ozzy and Metallica?

Him practicing songs from the new album every night in front of the mirror, every night for 3 weeks since its release all while staring at the tickets and his eyes drifted up to...

You frowned, and concentrated.

Eddie's eyes drifted up from the tickets to...

You moved your hand off the tickets until you touched the glass of the mirror; something had been there.

Eddie walked into his bedroom in a daze, clutching a tiny piece of paper in his hand. No...not paper. It was stiffer...card stock. There were tears in his eyes, but a smile on his lips.

You gasped and pulled your hand from the mirror. You immediately dug into your pocket and pulled the same piece of cardstock, the one you'd fumbled with at Rick's when you didn't want Wayne to know you were snooping. It had come from here.

No.

It had come from you.

You hadn't tried to pick emotions from it before, hadn't tried to lift memories, but now you were primed for it. Images flashed before your eyes.

Of you standing in front of a drugstore Christmas card display debating yourself for the perfect one, agonizing as you sat at the little desk in a motel room wondering just what to write. Could you tell him where you'd been? How much you missed him? Beg him to wait for you, again? To keep waiting?

In the end you knew you couldn't say anything, just a heart.

Of Eddie eagerly opening the card, recognizing your handwriting and the little butt-shaped heart you drew inside. Of his hope that he poured onto the paper that you hadn't abandoned him, hadn't forgotten him. He'd just have to wait. He'd wait forever. And every day he'd kiss his fingers and strum the strings of his beloved guitar and then press those same fingers to the cartoonish little mug of hot cocoa on the front of your card.

Wayne had said he'd taken things that meant the most to Eddie when he left...t-shirts, books, his guitar...and not the concert tickets...but your card.

You thought back to a card of your own. Sent to you from your father at Christmas. The beautiful drawing of the Loch Ness monster and his pathetic "Merry Christmas, From Dad" written inside. How irrationally angry you were that he would send you a card, after he'd said such terrible words to you, after he tried to force you to accept fate when he realized he was on the path to failure. You'd ripped the card up.

Now, in this moment...staring at the card that Eddie cherished, one that you'd cowardly sent without even signing...you felt some kind of understanding with your father. For the first time, truly, in your entire life. How much you would give...for a normal life for your loved ones.

And you knew how much stronger than you Eddie was, how patient he could be...how much more love that he had to give. How much more trust and faith he had.

Tears dripped on the card and you quickly wiped them away with the cuff of your jacket.

You were loath to do it, but you shoved the card back in the corner of the mirror where it belonged. You kissed your fingers and pressed it to the front of the card, and for the briefest moment you could feel the Eddie that lived deep inside you smile.

You cleared your throat and went back to digging and you noticed, there on the bed, a book.

Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters Guide

Pages were randomly sticking out of it. Just like the books that had been at Rick's. You helped yourself as you began flipping and your thoughts fondly turned back to your own long sessions ahead of Halloween, when Eddie had convinced you to join Hellfire for one night only. Character creation and the mechanics of the game. He'd told you stories of monsters and villains like Xanathar and Vecna and...

"Wait," you paused. "Vecna."

Sure, Dustin had told you that Vecna was Henry Creel. But you'd never questioned the origin of the name. Villains gave themselves dumb names all the time. Like Batman's Calendar Man or Mad Max's Lord Humungus.

You flipped frantically, page after page after page...eyes scanning over unfamiliar words haphazardly. You didn't care about hit points and spells and experience, you needed to find one thing.

One thing that was on the tip of your tongue, the corner of your mind, you knew you knew it but you didn't know where...until now.

The Sword of Kas

"When Vecna grew in power," you read aloud. "He appointed the most evil and ruthless lieutenant to serve as his bodyguard and righthand. That henchman was the vampire lord Kas. For a long time Kas faithfully served the lich but legend says that the destruction of Vecna was brought on by Kas and the world was made brighter thereby. Son of a BITCH."

You picked up the book and threw it across the bedroom, where it crashed into a lamp and fell to the floor.

You backed out of the bedroom and back down the hall, into the kitchen. The wind whipped heavily outside and you knew you needed to find Lucy and leave...go back to the Harringtons and demand an answer but...how could you face the reality outside of those walls?

You needed a minute...to process all of it.

You stood over the sink, stared at the scummy drain and the basin filled with half-decaying leaves that had blown in.

Your heart was pounding, ears ringing, and your left arm started hurting, hand stiff and tingling where you clutched the edge of the counter; it could have been a heart attack but it could also have been everything that you'd been told since coming to Hawkins had been...what...a lie?

And here you were after a week and you had to start from square one again.

"It's ok, it's ok," you clenched your eyes shut and muttered to yourself. "It's not starting back at square one. You already know some things. So what? So what? So what his name isn't really Kas; you never knew someone named Kas in town anyway, did you really think that it was a real name?

"Of course you did. So why did they lie? The kids...Dustin...he must have come up with the name because...duh vampire. Makes sense. But then why wouldn't they tell you who Kas really was?"

You opened your eyes and stared into the sink again, then off to the side, sliding your eyes along the grout lines to help you calm yourself.

You were like a ticking time bomb of emotion. The...anger and sadness and mourning and need...all churning in your body. You were being selfish; these people, your former neighbors, had seen a lot. And here you'd come into town with your...Knight of the Holy Order spiel, spouting off how you'd be here to help and so far everything had truly...truly not worked in your favor.

"It's because I'm not trustworthy." You clenched a fist and hit the counter. "I know that."

What had you done? But...kill one of their friends and do whatever you wanted, go wherever you wanted...kept secrets. That's why you left the house earlier because you needed some space. And so did they. You being right under their nose, fucking up every step of the way, wasn't gonna do anything to earn their trust.

"And if they just trusted me, then I could help."

"And who's going to help you?" came a soft voice behind you.

You jumped and turned and saw her, hanging upside down from the jagged edge of the roof. Her hair cascaded down in a curtain to the floor, all perfect golden curls with a copper tint.

"Hello angel," she said in a long, breathy, drawn-out taunt, and then in a feat of impressive acrobatics, swung her body off the roof, flipping herself to stand upright.

She was a cheerleader after all.

"Nice to finally meet you too," you greeted calmly. "Chrissy."

She looked different than she had in the square, less bat-like, less creature-like, unless that was just your imagination now being so close to her. A strange mix of unsettling monster and conventional beauty. Her limbs were still long and a little in-human, but her pallor was less...dead. Her wings dragged along the ground behind her as she took one step towards you, then another. Her demon-like eyes, just like Fred's, stuck on you as you backed along the counter.

She grinned, all pretty, pouty lips and sharp, deadly teeth.

You mentally calculated how you could defend yourself if she decided to attack you here. The knife you had...fuck it was somewhere. Had you dropped it when Lucy had shown up? Regardless, all you had left was the crucifix tucked into your jeans and...yourself. Your powers. The thunder and lightning and rain still falling outside would be an easy conductor for a some kind of defensive play if you needed to.

The gate...also was an option. Crack the earth open further and swallowed her whole. But that wasn't a route you truly wished to explore just yet.

"You're thinking naughty things," Chrissy sing-singed. "Mean things. I'm not gonna hurt you. Not like the others want me to. Why do you want to hurt me?"

"You've hurt a lot of people," you explain. "Your master has."

"Master," she closed her eyes and stopped in her tracks for a moment. "He likes that. Master of Puppets, I'm pulling your strings. Yeah he likes that."

"Yeah? Nice to know he's happy."

"See?" she held her hands--claws--out to you. "We both want him to be happy. We can work together."

"Did you lose the ability to understand sarcasm when you died?" you snarked at her. Her smile dropped and her cheeks twitched. "He's a monster. He's a villain. He's killing people."

"He doesn't like what you're saying about him."

"Tough."

"You should be nicer, after all he's done."

"I'm not nice," you spit at her.

You'd shuffled to the edge of the kitchen but when you turned to try and make a getaway down the hall, you were immediately stopped by a solid wall of muscle. Clawed hands grabbed your biceps and pushed you away, then a mouth full of jagged teeth roared in your face, spittle and blood spraying you thoroughly.

If Chrissy felt more human and Fred more monstrous, Patrick was somewhere in the middle. His jaw was still slightly dislocated, from Vecna's curse or his own lack of care while feeding, you weren't sure. He was lithe and long, like a dancer, and he was strong. He turned you back to face Chrissy, and gripped your arms tightly; you could feel his claws puncture your jacket, your skin, deep enough you were sure he drew blood.

"You can't run," he hissed. "Don't run."

"Don't fight it," Chrissy continued, desperately. "Why do you fight it? He just wants you--"

"Wants me dead," you finished for her.

"He wants you," Patrick repeated, grip getting tighter. "He needs you."

Chrissy lunged for you then, one claw coming to your throat, the other gripping your jaw. You closed your eyes and tried to focus; you needed to get them off of you, needed to...expel them. You listened to the rolling thunder outside, trying to ignore the raspy hissing breaths in your ears.

If you could just...time it right...you could strike at least one of them with lightning.

You listened to the rumble and thought about an ocean...and...sea monsters.

You thought about Odysseus crossing the strait of Messina and encountering Scylla and Charybdis. A decision similar to yours right now; an adventure led astray that led to an impossible decision. Which path could he take that would cause the least damage? Which path could you? Strike Patrick and surely Chrissy would snap your neck; strike Chrissy and Patrick would tear out your throat.

Shit, even Odysseus had a fig tree to cling to.

You wracked your brain, tried to stay calm.

Until Chrissy's hands turned gentler, filled with care. Her thumb caressed your chin, then your cheek. The claw around your throat loosened, and she cupped your face in both hands.

"I feel what lurks," she hissed, breath fanning across your skin. "In your lusting heart."

"I hope you have a heart, because I'm gonna drive a stake through it," you spat at her.

Her fingers pressed into your face, punishingly, and then went soft again. She chuckled, deeply; not like the simpering giggle she'd given before. Something raspy from within her chest.

"You're funny." Chrissy continued, but there was a rumble in her voice now. Deep and dark and secret. "Denial...not just a river in Egypt. How's that for a joke? Why did you come here? Why did you come back?"

It wasn't Chrissy anymore.

"It's personal," you told her.

"Isn't it? It's just between us."

It was Kas.

Except Kas wasn't Kas anymore he was...something. And your mind bent trying to make sense of just who was on the other side of Chrissy's mind.

You felt her get closer to you and Patrick's grip on you tighten; the metaphorical rock and hard place that you'd been considering closing in on you. Your decision gone; you'd have to destroy them both.

But Chrissy's fingers kept up their gentle ministrations. Over your cheeks, then your brow, down the slope of your nose, over your lips. And if you ignored the rasp of her claws along your skin, you could almost imagine another set of hands. Doing what they always did. Soothing your thoughts, bringing you joy and comfort and love.

And surrounded by all of the memories, all of the ghosts that lived in the walls of the trailer it was overwhelming. A tear trailed down your cheek as you thought of him.

"Shhhh" she whispered, her own mouth close to yours now. She kissed away the tear as it rolled nearby. "Don't cry. How long?"

"It's personal," you repeated, but your mind flashed to the ghosts in the bed earlier, the memory of the two of you on a rainy October afternoon just like this one.

You hadn't thought of...another person like that since Eddie. You'd only ever thought of him after you were gone, and especially after he was. It was a self-imposed abstinence, but...well shit you were grieving. For yourself, for him. Your goal wasn't...pleasure...it was...Heaven. And heaven only ever was where he was, so if he was dead, so was your pleasure.

You knew that wasn't what Kas meant.

"Three years?"

But maybe it was.

"It's personal."

"I told you, it's just between us. How personal can it be?"

You grit your teeth, and turned your head away as best you could. The hands moved down your face, to your neck, fiddled with the remnant of Barb's bite. There was a growling between Chrissy and Patrick, but Kas continued.

"You want to be here."

"I don't."

"In Hawkins? Yes." The chuckling returned. "Yes you do."

The thumb ran slowly over the bite and you shivered, each ridge tender. There was a soft tsking noise, and then kisses up your cheek.

"I'm sorry." A lick over your skin, tongue flicking at the end. "But you're lying to yourself. You want to be here. You've been thinking about it since you set foot in the city limits; you're practically screaming it. Broadcasting it for all of Hawkins to hear. You're home."

"I..." Where was the lie in that? You had thought it, the minute you'd driven in town. You were home, in Hawkins. It was your home in a broad sense. This trailer was home. Eddie was home.

You hiccuped and scrunched your face up.

"Shhh," came a soothing sound, kisses over each of your eyes, just like Eddie would when you were upset.

"Get out of my head."

"I'm not in your head. I'm here. With you." You could hear the little grin in his voice. "But you're here, with me. You give a little, I give a little. A little back and forth. A partnership; we're both familiar with that aren't we? It's been a while...but it's just like riding a bike."

The hands moved...down...down...to the button of your jeans. Soon they were open and down further still, claws rasped against skin and cotton.

"I can give you everything you want. Everything you left behind."

There was that chuckle again, from Patrick this time, who pulled you closer against him, your back along the length of him. You could feel every limb accommodate the differences in your physiology. Vampire and human, unholy and divine. He began moving against you, length hardening into a prominent ridge against the softness of your rear. And Chrissy along your front, leaving sweet kisses and caresses, her fangs dragged over your skin intermittently as Kas continued his little speech, made his offer.

"But that means I get what I want too."

But which one was Kas? Were they both Kas? Were...

You couldn't think, the hands shifted just enough to play with your folds. You'd already been thinking of pleasure and Eddie, everything you'd lost and everything that could have been waiting for you. You were only human, of course you were going to respond.

It was a physical reaction...only a physical reaction, but...a little pleasure never hurt.

You nodded and fingers dipped, played with your clit, dragged your slickness up from your weeping, wanting hole to make it as sweet for you as they could.

Your head rolled back and rested against Patrick who had started breathing heavily behind you, huffing and heaving, a whispered so good, so sweet, as he used you.

"Ah but you already said it," there was a smirk. "I want you? I have you."

You had said that, hadn't you?

You thought of...god you could hardly think, but you thought of that last lazy morning together before you left. You late to work, Eddie late to school. He was behind you, face buried in your neck, fingers buried in your pussy as you both chased a high. A game of just enough but not quite too much followed by luscious words that helped get you to the edge together. He always told you how sweet you were. He liked to...

Fingers curled within you but bent in an oddly inhuman way that still abused your clit and brought you further along. You inadvertently clenched as the claws scratched and stung, and they both froze and hissed for a moment.

"Mine," they said in tandem, and then the movement became harder.

Rocking bodies, thrusting and bucking, fingers sliding in and out of your tight slit, palm grinding on your clit both delicately and punishingly, until a single tear became a river, and the storm outside emanated from you instead. You clenched your hands as Chrissy chased your high, as she pushed you over the precipice, as she stopped focusing on your channel and only focused on working your pleasure out of you for as long as she could. Legs weak, you arched away from Patrick and he chased you as well, pistoned his hips against yours until his own release followed.

You heard a distant clang of something falling to the floor, and your eyes snapped open.

And it was like a switch was flipped.

Patrick pulled you against him and Kas was gone; only a monster remained. A hungry one. And those fangs that had roared in your face just minutes easier buried themselves deep in your neck, the good side. They ripped into you and pulled, mouthful after mouthful of blood. It was a punishing kind of pain, especially with the remnants of an orgasm still coursing through you.

Chrissy was next, the gentleness in her gone, her hand, still slick, grabbed your chin yo keep you steady and with a feral grin she dove in and tore through the partially healed bite from Barb to take her own fill.

Their arms held you still while your body got weaker.

In your hazy mind you wondered if it had all been a trap. If Kas had wanted to take you out this way, obstacle removed by way of temptation.

You thought you heard your name.

There was a rumble and an unholy screech and before everything went dark, Chrissy and Patrick both ripped themselves away from your neck. Your blood splashed on the floor and dripped from their sharp mouths as they hissed at something.

But you couldn't keep your eyes open.

You were lost.

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”  ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Next Chapter: Via Domus