freakshowtwopointoh

[freakshowtwopointoh]

sneak peek to something i might never post. feels a bit too self indulgent lmao.

When most people talk about meeting their soulmate for the first time, its a grandiose affair. Hearts race, eyes meet, and a bond settles into place before either party has a chance to give their name. You’d heard this story countless times - in shitty romance novels, in feel-good news stories that your mother used to send you.

But most people actually meet their soulmate. You were sitting in the back of an auditorium - definitely hidden in the shadows, and they were on stage, giving a seminar on hero ethics or some other bullshit that barely applied to you.

It was subtle enough you didn’t quite realize it at first. You’d gotten to the auditorium early - of course - and settled in at the far, far, far back. But still - you felt it. You felt them.

First - a prickle on the back of your neck. You’d put your hair up, thinking the summer heat was just setting off your nerves.

Then - a spike in your heart rate. A shiver down your spine. Anxiety acting up, maybe?

You were in denial - it’s easy to see looking back. But then you saw them and you couldn’t deny the burning in both your soulmarks. A prickling sensation morphed into a burning throb as you looked up at the stage and felt that undeniable pull. The tug from somewhere deep down that draws you to your soulmates. You can feel it in your chest - in the way your body contorts to lean towards the stage. Your subconscious was searching for a seat closer to the front before you realized what was happening.

There was no denying it any longer. Marie Moreau and Jordan Li were your soulmates.

You didn't need to wait for Brink to introduce them to know who they were. After Marie and Jordan saved some random girl at a club, they were celebrated by GodU and Vought. They shared rank 2. Somehow. (Well, not somehow. There are a lot of rumors about ultimatums and threats and benefactors and blackmail that everyone is all too willing to entertain). They were basically GodU royalty. Everyone knew who they were. True representatives of what it means to be a Godolkin-trained hero, if the press briefings are to be believed.

If that was true, you were everything but that. You were here on a technicality. Your independent study status meant you were barely in Crime Fighting, and Brink was constantly trying to make you anyone else’s problem. You spent most days holed up in the greenhouses, trying to coax rare saplings into thriving. The only reason you put up with this bullshit school, this bullshit company, was because you knew, deep down, that this was the only way your powers meant anything. You weren’t a healer or a fighter or even an entertainer. You are an academic, through and through. A scientist. And you might’ve dropped out in the first year if you hadn’t stumbled on a rare and delicate plant species that seemed to help supe-specific illnesses and the side effects of compound V. Maybe you couldn’t help people directly, but your research could. 

But none of that was ready yet. You weren’t ready yet. So you did the only thing that you could think of - you fled. Ducking behind the sound gear, scurrying around the other lurkers in the shadowy back row of Godolkin’s main auditorium, you managed to make it out and in a side alley, leaning heavily on your knees. Trying to remember how to breathe.

Ever since a random October morning when Jordan and Marie had been doing another round of bullshit seminars, the two supes hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was different.

Marie thought their other soulmate must have been there.

Jordan thought someone was watching them.

They didn’t talk about it much after that day - even though they both had begun to think in Befores and Afters as if something monumental happened that day. When Marie suggested it could’ve been their soulmate the first time, it was as if everything in their system shut down. Like the blast shields they’d seen on the dorm windows, each part of them stiffened and retracted into itself. No. It can’t be. I’m not ready. The kind of thought that filled their chest with a painful mix of embarrassment and shame that makes them clam up and lash out. 

They’d always known they had two soulmates - the heart shaped mark on their thigh mocking them no matter which form they took. At first, it felt like just another sign from the universe that they were too much. Too much for their parents. Too much for one soulmate, for one body, for one world. After meeting Marie, after feeling the bond click into place, the warmth blooming out of their left soulmark, there was a brief moment where they thought the hard part was over. Marie accepted them, their friends accepted them, school was going ok. Maybe everything would work itself out.

But Vought’s demands were neverending, Brink worked them past exhaustion, and the world wasn’t nearly as ready for a couple as queer as theirs, whether they were soulmates or not. And if they were honest, truly honest, they were tired of coming out. And they weren’t exactly looking forward to doing it again.

I’m not ready.

It’s been three months and they haven’t been able to shake that thought. And being home for the holidays hadn’t helped things at all. Their dad could barely hide his frustration with Marie enabling their gender bullshit. (His words, not theirs.)

“Earth to Jordan!” Andre’s voice cut into their thoughts. “Take this. It’s legit.” A blunt was placed in their fingers before they could say anything. They rolled their eyes, trying to mask the flurry of uncomfortable emotions roiling in their gut.

“We have the same dealers, Andre, don’t - “ “Ah, but this isn’t mine.” He said smugly, a proud little smile playing at his lips. “The Little Cricket has a super secret hookup with a custom strain. And I gotta say, I’m impressed.”

“Pink Crush, she calls it. And don’t say it like that, she’s not a hookup - she’s my friend.” Emma admonished. 

“If she’s your friend, why haven’t we met her?” 

“She’s shy.” 

“You’re talking about the plant freak, right? She’s not just shy, she’s a recluse. I can’t believe-” Emma had launched a pillow in Sam’s direction, glaring at him. 

“Don’t be mean, Sam. She’s my friend. And I like her.” 

“I’m just saying...”

The conversation topic changed quickly after that, but something about it stuck in their mind.

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Fight For Me - Cross the Line Part 17

But I would fight for you, If you would fight for me

Let them drive us underground, I don't care how far

Jordan didn’t know why they hung around the studio after practically storming out of rehearsal. Working with Ella had only become even more painful - each day they were too much of a fucking coward to say anything that they actually meant, lashing out at her and pushing them both to their limits. It felt like they were running on fear and spite alone, feral and cold all at once. 

They should’ve just gone on their run. Blown off some steam before having a night at home, where they could actually be themselves and relax. But they heard her laugh. The laugh that haunted their dreams, the laugh that they hadn’t heard from her in over a month. And she was with him. 

It shouldn’t bother them. It doesn’t bother them. 

But they can’t deny the way their hands are trembling, or the ringing in their ears as they listened to Luke flirt with Ella like they’d heard him do a thousand times. He plays every card he has: the sweet guy act, the winning smile that looks like it was taken straight from a Gap catalog, the way he can make anyone feel like the most special person in the room just by looking at them.

Jordan knows how to play the game, sure. But Luke can make you forget there’s a game at all. They learned that the hard way.

“It’s Friday. You think they’re staying in and watching HGTV?” Luke’s voice broke them out of their ruminations. Well, that’s what they had been planning on doing. But they’d known him long enough to hear the insistence hidden under his comment. They wonder what game he’s playing - does his little brother need a date? Are he and Cate trying to find a unicorn again? They shake their head, trying to force themself not to care.

And they didn’t have to wait to hear Ella fall for the whole good guy act, but her hesitant “Okay” seemed to echo down the hall as they hurried out of the studio and to their car. 

There goes their night in.

They kept trying to tell themselves that they weren’t doing it for her, they weren’t doing it because they’re jealous. It’s just to make sure they have a productive rehearsal tomorrow. And because they both would get it if one of them got caught breaking rules. Not because their gut hasn’t stopped churning since they heard Luke playing Ella like a damn violin. 

Not because her laugh was their kryptonite.

They changed clothes three times getting ready, oscillating between feeling underdressed and feeling restrained by polyester fabric and stranger’s perceptions. Their whole form felt wrong when they finally left their apartment - dressed in a white button down that was a size too big and the baggiest pair of cargo pants they owned. And it didn’t get easier when they slipped into the party, shame hanging off them like a second skin.

They’re just here to check on Ella. They keep telling themself that, like they can make it true just by thinking it hard enough. Looming in the corner like a specter, they can’t keep from scanning the crowd. And when they finally see her...

Fuck. They’ll never forget how she looked under the dim house lights, burgundy silk barely covering her toned thighs, body moving with the kind of indecency begging to be seen. She’d let her hair down, the ends brushing the small of her back, and they wanted to slide up behind her, guide her body against theirs, murmur salacious promises in her ear. They could almost feel her warmth under their hands from rehearsal earlier today, and they wanted her body against theirs again. Oh, how they wanted.

If they hadn’t been so distracted by her, they might’ve noticed sooner - the way Cate and her friends kept refilling Ella’s cup. The way Luke seemed to ensure partygoers were filming. They might’ve been able to stop things before they escalated. But everything happened all at once. One minute, they were watching the way Ella moved as if the music ran through her every vein, and the next minute they were watching Marcus fucking Reed dare to put his hands on her. 

Their body moved before their brain, stepping towards them entirely on instinct. Like a predator who spotted a threat in their territory, they stalked more than moved towards the couple.

And as they got closer, it was clear that couple was a generous word. They watched as Ella stumbled away from the brutish frat boy, uncoordinated and clearly inebriated, and watched as he followed her, yanking her body into his like he owned her. 

“Haven’t seen you at one of these before. I’m Marcus.” The bastard had the nerve to try to act suave, like he wasn’t trying to manhandle his way to second base right on the dancefloor. Thankfully, Ella seemed just as upset as they were, trying again to get away from the beefcake when Marcus made his final mistake. He tried again.

Looking back, they could see the fear in her eyes, the way she looked like a cornered animal - but they’d be lying if they tried to explain their actions as anything benevolent. They weren’t on a rescue mission - she was theirs. They didn’t have time to psychoanalyze their own possessiveness over a girl they haven’t even kissed - they just moved. Six feet of animal instinct, the next five minutes were a blur of cursing, fists, and a garbled mess of screams and jeers from the crowd that was white noise to their fury. 

It took Luke’s roommate Andre and Luke’s little brother Sam to pull the two apart, and Jordan couldn’t keep from flipping Marcus off as Ella practically dragged them outside.

Well, she was trying. In the cool night air, and as whatever strange mix of adrenaline and shock wore off, the alcohol from Cate’s famous jungle juice seemed to be catching up with the girl, and she was barely upright. 

“C’mon, freshie. Let’s get you home,” They mumbled, lifting her easily and situating her in a bridal carry. They started off towards their car, ignoring her protests.

“My roommate -” She tried to slur out something - an explanation or an excuse, they weren’t sure. There was a part of them, a small, logical part, that was screaming at them to stop this. To keep it professional, take her back to her dorm, screw her roommate’s sleep schedule or whatever bullshit excuse she was about to give - because if they hadn’t already crossed a thousand lines tonight, this is the kind of thing they really can’t come back from - 

“You can sleep it off on my couch.” They said gruffly, ignoring that stupid, logical, rational voice in the back of their mind. They unlocked the car door with a low beep, shifting Ella’s weight so they could open the door and lower her into the passenger seat with the kind of gentle ease that gave away the feelings they worked so hard to disguise.

They wanted to bitch her out. Ask her why she went out partying, why she got so drunk, why she let Luke trick her, why she couldn’t have just done what they’d asked -

“Sometimes I forget how much of a light weight I am -” Ella’s quiet voice broke the silence of the car. They risked a glance at the younger girl and almost winced at how glassy they were. 

“You’re human. Most of that party isn’t. And Cate mixes a strong cocktail.” They muttered, surprising even themself. 

“No, she told me -” 

Something in Jordan’s veins went icy at Ella’s mumbled admission. “Wait - Cate told you what?” Their grip on the steering wheel tightened, and they had to remind themself to breathe. The protective rage that had driven their fist into Marcus’ face was coming back in full force.

It was as if that one moment had unleashed a wild dog - and they didn’t know if they could rein it in again.

“She said it was basically juice. And I don’t think I even finished the cup,” The confusion was clear in her voice, and it made their heart twist. 

“I should’ve seen it coming,” They muttered, not even expecting her to hear them as they parked at their apartment. “Fucking snakes.” 

“What? I don’t... Jor, I don’t understand.” She mumbled as they lifted her back against their chest, hating how right it felt. Hating how she tucked herself against their chest like she belonged there. Hating how angelic she looked, half asleep and makeup staining their shirt. 

And as they tucked her into their bed, brushing the stray hairs from her face, something settled inside them. 

But they still couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning on their couch, they couldn’t help but replay every moment of the day. Trying to pick apart every moment, trying to understand how they let her get hurt. They try to remind themself that she’s not their responsibility, it’s not their fault she’s naive and reckless and headstrong and -

There’s another part of them, deeper down, that they can barely acknowledge. The terrified little girl with scraped knees, still in her unitard, looking up at little Jenny Boccabella with eyes that begged to be loved, to be seen. 

And only seeing disgust and fear reflected back.

They hadn’t needed to hear what she said next to know what she felt.

And yeah, Ella wasn’t Jenny. And yeah, Ella seemed to respect their pronouns, seemed to understand the importance of their secret. But they were still that little kid who wanted to be loved for who they were. They were still that closed off teenager who thought that if they played at being a man enough, they could just become one. And they were still that wild dog, snarling and snapping and unsure if it can be loved. Unsure if love is anything but gnashing teeth and bitter nights alone.

They fell asleep before they let their mind wander. Before they let that scared little kid inside them dream of a better future.

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[freakshowtwopointoh]

Calling all Limoreau/Gen V/Jordan Li/Marie Moreau/The Boys writers!!

I put out a general interest check a little bit ago and there was enough interest to get me excited at least! so if you want to participate, please fill out the form above! This will help us all get connected, and align on a direction. Please only fill it out if you actually want to write something :)

[freakshowtwopointoh]

a gift. for all my fellow freaks. 18+ only ofc.

in my head is canon that Jordan is a Rocky Horror Picture Show fan

[freakshowtwopointoh]

rhps shadow cast - jordan li x gn reader. smut. 18+ mdni. inspired by @witchesdevonne

warnings: degradation, anal, d/s dynamics

you didn't really know what jordan was bringing you to - when they said you had to come see them in rocky.

"is it like... a play?" you lean back in their bed, watching as they paint on dark red lipstick in their small desk mirror. they chuckled, tossing you a heavy leather jacket.

"its an experience." they said cryptically, beckoning you closer. "c'mere." and their lips are pressing into your cheek, your throat, your lips. 

"you're making a mess!" you whined, trying to pull away before they fucked up your foundation. 

"that's the idea, hun. stay still." they murmured, mussing up your hair and grabbing the lipstick off their desk. "now close," they waited until you complied before painting the lipstick on your lips.

"satisfied?" you couldn't deny the warmth pooling in your gut as they took you in, eyes traveling up your form like they were making a map of every way they were going to pull you apart later tonight.

"almost," they said slyly, smirking a bit. "it'll be easier if we do this part here," they added, and for a moment, you thought they were going to put more on your lips - until you felt them press the waxy crayon it to your cheek, drawing a large "V" before you could complain.

"what's that mean?!" you demanded indignantly, narrowing your eyes as you looked in the mirror. 

"Virgin," they said proudly. they grinned when you glared at them, putting their finger to your lips before you could vocalize your protest. "you've never been to a shadow casting before. that's all it means." they paused for a moment, their eyes hardening with something like possessiveness. "take the hard way." you blinked at them. 

"huh?" but before they could explain, the girls were bursting into their dorm, dragging you two out of jordan’s dorm and to the auditorium they'd booked.

you were only more nervous when jordan walked you in - you recognized most of the cast, but you had no idea what was coming. and inside jokes were flying over your head. you felt out of place - and you were almost grateful when the lights dimmed and jordan kissed you goodbye.

"the hard way." they reminded you sternly.

what the hell does that even mean?

then cate grabs a mic, and calls all the virgins to the front.

"now... we've got a big group of virgins today, and there's two ways for these lovely folks to lose their virginity. there's the easy way," the crowd booes playfully, and cate waits until they die down before it continues. "and the hard way." the crowd cheered. 

about half of the group chose the easy way. you stayed back, still a bit confused as to why jordan had been so insistent.

then they started stripping. each "virgin" peeling off layers of clothes awkwardly, as the music played. and now... now you understood.

there was very little underneath your band tee and jeans - and it left very little to the imagination. and you had about thirty seconds to decide if the exposure was worth the punishment you’d get later.

your body moved without your permission, stepping in line behind a nervous sophomore who was clearly not prepared. which, to be fair, neither were you. but hey... 

you wouldn’t be dating jordan if you didn’t like playing with fire. (and really, getting burned was part of the fun.)

you can feel their glare burning on your back as you stand under the spotlights, shitty 00’s pop music blaring over the speakers as you grip the collar of your tee, shrugging it over your head with a saucy swish of your hips. the heeled boots came off next, and you thank your lucky stars you wore your chelseas tonight. 

and now, for the grand finale. your back to the crowd, you shimmy out of your jeans - letting the red thong catch the stage lights as they get a full show of your ass moving to the beat.

the rest of the show is a blur, your excitement near impossible to contain. jordans eyes never leave you, and you know that they know exactly what game you’re playing. 

its a wonder you both make it back to their dorm - even if you did skip out on the cast’s traditional diner trip and the party at andre’s after that. 

youre against the door as soon as the lock clicked into place. 

“you like pissin’ me off?” they practically growled, their teeth sinking into your neck hard before you even had a chance to speak. “i seem to recall being very specific... about one thing -”  

you should be used to the ease that they can move you about, in either form. but even though you (currently) have the height advantage, you’re on their bed faster than you can blink, your face pressed into their pillow. you can’t help but gasp, every inch of your body like a live wire.

they yank your pants down to your knees in one movement, watching the way your hips buck pathetically against the mattress, your arousal barely contained within the tiny triangle of fabric, your back arched slightly. because even now, when you’re so turned on you can barely think, teetering on the edge of subspace, you’re still teasing them.

“this is mine.” they hissed, their fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, ignoring the way you tried to grind your crotch into the bed to get some semblance of relief for the ache that had been growing since you first got in line to strip. you feel like you should care about the way your makeup smears across the white pillowcase, leaving red and black streaks behind.

you didn’t see them pull the paddle from their bedside table. you didn’t see them pull back. you just felt the delicious sting when the leather hit your backside, and you couldn’t stifle the half gasp, half moan that escaped.

“just- shut up.” they snapped. “and take it.” and they were relentless. each hit precise - the same force, balanced in such a way that you’d have a hard time sitting tomorrow. your legs were still restrained by your own jeans, leaving you entirely at their mercy.

jordan was never a measured dom. not the type to have you count or thank them. they were feeling you out, trying to push you to your limit. to make you understand how you push them to theirs. they just reach out to cup your face, using their thumb to smudge the red v on your cheek. “you’re a mess, hun.” they said mockingly, further messing up your makeup. “i feel like i should feel bad.” they swing again, another stinging spank across your ass leaving a red imprint behind. “but i don’t.” they finish with a cold smirk, pulling back to spank your ass again. and again. and again. you feel like you shouldn’t be enjoying this. but you are, your arousal nearly impossible to ignore as you press yourself harder into the bed, seeking relief.

they can see the moment they break you, the way submission slips over your body like a soft breeze. a flutter of your eyes. a slight shift in your angle. you’re no longer rutting against the mattress like a mindless puppy - not because you found any semblance of relief, but because you knew you’d only get it from them.

“you’re mine.” they murmured, their tone rough.

“yours.” you murmur in response, feeling their hands shift in size and shape as they positioned themself behind you, opening you up with their fingers. you can’t help but sigh, arching further into their touch, your arousal only growing when you feel the hot, hard, press of their own arousal against your thigh.

“look at you. so easy for me. opening up so pretty. no one else can ever see you like this, can they? no one else could ever do this to you. no. only me.” they can’t seem to stop themself as they admire you, and you can hear the soft schlick-schlick as they stroke themself. “fuck. look at you. spread out for me like a fucking slut and i’ve barely fuckin’ touched you.” they reached out and you mewled when, instead of touching you (or better, finally fucking you), they snapped the elastic of your thong right against your puckered hole, making you flinch slightly. you didn’t even have to see their face to know they were smirking.

“please,” you moaned.

they should make you apologize. or beg. or something. but they’re so hard they can barely think about anything other than sinking into you.

“I should be making you beg.” they muttered. “but i can’t fuckin’ resist this.” they press the flared head of their cock against your ass, their nails digging into your sides as they slowly pushed their way in. “fuck. baby.” seemingly rendered speechless, their eyes rolled back as they hilted completely inside you, bottoming out with a shuddering groan. “I could fuck this ass every day and you’d still be-” they started moving, their hands grabbing your hips hard as they thrust. “so - “ another brutal thrust that has you gasping, moaning, screaming, hands scrabbling for purchase on their sheets. “fucking - “ they thrust again. “- tight.” another thrust. another ungodly noise flying from your throat.

 “god, you drive me crazy, you know that?” they can’t help but ramble as they fuck you into the mattress, talking over your gasping, whimpering, moans. each thrust has your own center pressing against the fabric, bringing you closer to the release you’ve been craving. and of course, jordan knows. they know every sign - every sound, every muscle twitch, every flutter of your eyelids. “you gonna come for me, baby? you gonna cum all over that fucking thong?” they punctuate each question with another thrust. 

“they can look, but none of them can touch you.” they groaned. “none of them can make you come on their cock - “ another thrust, and you can tell you’re getting close. you whimper, shifting the angle of your hips just so. “like -” another brutal thrust. “a - little fucking - bitch -” they spat, fisting your hair as they began to fuck you in earnest. “c’mon baby, you know you’re mine, just, fuckin’, come for me. come -” they groan, tightening their grip on your hair as they feel you tremble and shudder under them, crying out their name as you come.

“god damn you, you’re mine! fuck, baby, I’m-” they groan, their head falling forward onto your shoulder as they bite down, filling you with their seed as they pump rope after rope of cum into your ass. You both look wrecked, red lipstick and black eyeliner smeared all over both of your faces and chests.

later that night, when you were both cleaned up and cuddled under their blankets, you would, finally, apologize for disobeying them. they mutter a thanks, pressing their lips into your damp hairline as you drift off to sleep.

and they’ll never admit that they too knew exactly what they were doing when they told you to take the hard way.

an: ive never written for a gn reader like this. hope u like! i tried :)

[freakshowtwopointoh]

brb - ive been cooking for a bit lol. lemme just-

in my head is canon that Jordan is a Rocky Horror Picture Show fan

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Calling all Limoreau/Gen V/Jordan Li/Marie Moreau/The Boys writers!!

I put out a general interest check a little bit ago and there was enough interest to get me excited at least! so if you want to participate, please fill out the form above! This will help us all get connected, and align on a direction. Please only fill it out if you actually want to write something :)

[freakshowtwopointoh]

I've got an interest form! Please, please only fill this out if you actually want to work on this story with us!

just trying to get a general feel for interest. calling all limoreau fic writers! i've had a really vague fic idea floating around in my head since s1 and thought it could be cool to have each chapter written by a different author in the community! we can also beta read for each other and chat about the plot/direction. the general vibe i was thinking is spy/heist post-college mystery/romance, and each chapter is associated with a bond theme song.

feel free to send me asks/messages if u have questions or w/e

[freakshowtwopointoh]

We Laugh at Danger (And Break All The Rules) - Next to Normal Chapter 4

And I cannot help but hold on to a handful of times when what was spoken was a revolution in itself

< prev | next >

It was adorable, the way Emma had fallen asleep against Sam on the black pleather loveseat  - even though it left Marie alone with Jordan on the walk back to campus. She’d have much preferred to just keep her head down and google the directions, but Jordan was already standing, shrugging on their jacket and waiting impatiently for her to finish tying her combat boots.

She hurried to pull on her coat, buttoning it as she followed them out of the townhouse - they only seemed to move faster in their smaller form. Not in a frenzied way either - they moved like a panther, all smooth lines and confidence. She found herself somewhat at ease in their presence, despite their prickly exterior. She still couldn’t tell if the older supe liked her or not, but she trusted that nothing untoward would happen in the dark city streets. 

“So, uh, do you guys write your own music?” She stared at her feet as they walked together, worried she might stare if she actually looked at the upperclassman, who was currently scowling slightly at the empty night air ahead of them. Had she really pissed them off this much? Or were they just... like this? She decided she wasn’t going to take it personally, and tried to keep up with them as they made the cold walk home. 

They turned to look at her, as if trying to decide if she was asking a genuine question or poking fun at the idea of a college band. Their eyes narrowed, but they responded nonetheless. “Yeah, we do.” They said, unable to mask their pride. Marie had a feeling that their use of the word we was generous on their part. “We did a lot of covers at first though.” She nodded in understanding - she’d never been brave enough to even try putting her lyrics to music, much less actually share her music with another person.

“Was it all punk stuff, or do you guys experiment a bit?” Not that she could imagine them singing cheesy pop ballads or anything, but weirder things had happened, and some of the coolest art comes out of the most obscure crossovers. 

“Yes.” Jordan responded with a wry smile, causing the younger girl to roll her eyes.“We experimented with good music.” They added, slowing their pace slightly. It almost felt like permission.

“Not all good music is from the last forty years, you know.” She remarked casually, hating how good the cocky smirk looked on them - even down to their stupid fucking dimple.

“Right, because the only good music is from the 1800s.” They retorted, just as sarcastically, matching her pace as they walked.

“That’s not what I said. But all musicians take influences from each other. Punk came from rock and roll, rock came from the blues, and so on.” She couldn’t help but point out, wincing at how elementary it all sounded aloud.

“You get all that from some textbook? Yeah, genres grow from one another, but that doesn’t mean I’m rocking out to Elvis Presley in my spare time.” She scoffed, unable to stop herself from snapping back.

“Elvis Presley is a thief - a figurehead bolstered by an entire industry's refusal to acknowledge the musical prowess of black people.” If there was an easy way to get Marie talking about music history, it was to bring up the purported King of Rock and Roll. She once spent almost twenty minutes bitching out a classmate who suggested he was the most influential artist of the twentieth century. 

“Ok, ok, bad example. But I’m not bopping along to Big Mama Thornton either.” She tried to hide her surprise that they knew who Elvis stole from (a name that had been drilled into her by her mother). The name brought up years old memories, the lectures her mom had given her echoing in the back of her mind. 

“And just because you don’t personally enjoy listening to a genre doesn’t mean it doesn't have value. Some of the best guitarists were part time musicians in Chicago in the 50s. Kokomo Arnold was a legend on slide and inspired Led Zeppelin. I don’t think that means that Plant and Page were rocking out to the blues all the time - just that skill recognizes skill.” God, she felt like her mother. Marie would often bicker with her parents on the car ride to school - all she wanted to do was listen to the pop station (95.4, Z100 Pop!) and her parents would instead play an eclectic mix of genres and artists to further her musical education and expand her horizons. It pissed her off at the time, but her Spotify library today is filled with those same artists, and she has to try not to cry when their favorites come up on shuffle. 

“I didn’t say that they didn’t have value - I just don’t spend hours rehearsing music I don’t like. And I definitely don’t write music I don’t like.” Marie had to keep from rolling her eyes again (a common occurrence for her around Jordan, it seemed). This all sounded like a warped version of the arguments she’d made to her mother in their family sedan, and there was a strange mix of nostalgia and guilt that was rising up her throat threatening to smother her in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Sometimes you only find something interesting after spending a long time on a piece.” She managed, pulling her thoughts out of the bloody past and into the present. She kicked a small pebble along the pavement, and pulled a deep breath through her nose and out her mouth. 

“You know, I’m beginning to think I was right - voice teacher’s kid?” It seemed Jordan wasn’t interested in letting her past be in the past, and she had to suppress a sigh of frustration. She didn’t like the implication there - that she had been born into this, that her hard work didn’t matter against her DNA. 

“Well, yeah, but-” She started indignantly, ready to launch into a defense of her point of view. They scoffed, cutting her off.

“I don’t want to make music inspired by some dead guy. I don’t want to leave easter eggs for music nerds like you and yours. I want to write my music.” They fired back. She blinked, a bit shocked by their tone, but was undeterred. Her beliefs about music were part of what kept her with Petrov even after it was strictly necessary. It was what kept her in music theory classes even when she didn’t need them. It was what brought her here, to the only school that offers these kinds of programs to supe students.

“I get that. But...” Her voice softened slightly, as she tried to find the words she was looking for. “We all speak the same language. It’s not your music or my music - it’s music. And there are ways that we can use that language to communicate what we’re trying to say more efficiently. You know?” She cocked her head to the side, watching Jordan consider her argument, and tried to hide the way she was holding her breath.

“That... sounds like a great thesis for an essay assignment in music theory 101, and useless to anyone actually trying to make music.” They said dismissively, speeding up again, and Marie sighed before picking up her own pace to follow them. They were so arrogant, and it was beginning to get on her nerves. Just because their band got some kind of medal from some jaded old rock stars doesn’t mean there isn’t room for growth or complexity. Don’t they want to make good, meaningful music? That takes more than a guitar and a dream.

“A clever chord change or use of instruments can give a similar effect to good lyrics.” She countered, hurrying up again. She bit back the examples that were rising to her lips - bridges or second verses that used the music to change the meaning of the lyrics, with a sample, key change, or shift in instrumentation.

“It’s not a good effect if half the audience doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” They snapped. Whatever grace they had been giving her seemed to evaporate into the cool night air, and she shivered involuntarily.

“They don’t have to know the technicalities to feel the difference.” She couldn’t help but point out, unsure why she was continuing this fight. It wasn’t just out of principle, or a loss of control of her emotions, nor was it because she truly felt like the G.I.T. Original Replaced @ 9 really needed her advice. There was a spark between them, something that seemed to light up whenever she was near Jordan, and she wanted to chase it, like a child with a firefly.

“So you’re one of those academics. This is punk music, not poetry class.” They countered. She knew what they were doing - using poetry as a shorthand for flowery and overworked. But again, she couldn’t help but think of the litany of poets who would’ve counted as punk in every definition of the word - Langston Hughes, William Blake, Maya Angelou... artists who used their talent to shine a light on the realities of the world, trying to inspire revolution.

“If you think punk and poetry aren’t inextricably tied to one another, I don’t think you’ve been paying attention.” She fired back. “The punk movement is about more than fuck the establishment and daddy issues.” She had no doubt that Jordan knew this but it got under her skin, the way finesse or skill were written off as pretentious. Being smart or well educated doesn’t make her a class traitor. 

“I don’t need you to tell me what’s punk, opera.” They turned to glare at her, and it felt like time slowed for a moment. There was an electricity in the air, something sparking between them that the younger girl had never experienced - even Austin, who she once believed she was in love with, didn’t light her up like this. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath, the chemistry between them a buzzing live wire, pulsing like a living entity between them. 

“It seems like you do, Yamaha.” She found her voice, despite the way her heart thudded in her chest. “When you need something to bring your music to the next level, you know where to find me.” Was this flirting? The line between fighting and flirting seemed to blur and she had to force her eyes away from their lips. 

“Like I’d ever ask you for pointers. You’re probably too uptight to even write on your sheet music.” Marie scoffed, formulating a retort about their clear lack of music education and narrow minded approach to art when her dorm building came into view. She considered lying just to continue the conversation, to keep the fire burning between them. She could feel it catching in her chest, building to a bright flame, warming her soul and catching her heart aflame. She wanted to bask in the warm light for another moment before stepping back into the cold night alone. But fate (or Jordan) had other plans.

For just as she opened her mouth, Jordan stopped, and she could feel the electricity sizzle out as they sighed. “Henderson, right?” Marie nodded mutely, wondering why she kind of wanted to keep arguing with them, and not just to convince them, but to feel that heat for just another moment. But the air was cold, and the night was only getting darker. 

“Yeah. This is me. Uh, I’ll see you around.” She said softly, daring to meet their eyes again. They were guarded, almost cold in the moonlight. She must’ve imagined it. The electricity, the fire between them was gone. In its place was an icy facade, and Marie was left wondering what was real, and what was an imagined fantasy. 

“Right.” They said disbelievingly, shoving their hands into their pockets as they continued on into the night, disappearing into the dark. 

Jordan wasn’t sure how to feel, when Luke announced to the freshman that she still lived on campus, volunteering them to keep Marie company on her walk home. On the one hand, it saved them the awkward dance of trying to disguise the fact that they are going the same direction as her, but on the other...

Well, they weren’t exactly looking forward to forcing small talk with Opera as they made their way back to the dorms. She could feel the freshman’s inquisitive gaze taking her in, almost sizing them up. There was a tension in the air, different from a few moments ago in the townhouse, or even back in the music room. They couldn’t help but check her out again in the dim light - the cool light of the moon reflecting off her flushed cheeks and catching in her deep brown eyes, making them want to get lost in the taller girl’s eyes for hours. But they kept their eyes trained forward, walking brusquely through the cold streets.

“So, uh, do you guys write your own music?” It didn’t take long for the freshman to start pestering her about the band and music stuff. At least she wasn’t asking about their major. If they had to try to explain their current research projects to another ignorant liberal arts student, she might fucking implode. Although, that’s probably got more to do with the fact that she’s explained their research to their parents so many times, and they still have no clue what it is she does. They had to wrench their train of thought away from their parents before she’s too mean to the freshman. But they still kept their eyes trained on the dimly lit street ahead, walking the familiar route home. It was a cold night, the wind slicing across their face as they walked.

“Yeah, we do. We did a lot of covers at first though.” They hated admitting it - it felt juvenile. But the younger girl didn’t seem to notice, barely pausing her inane interrogation. 

“Was it all punk stuff, or do you guys experiment a bit?” And that question was so fucking predictable Jordan had to fight to keep from rolling their eyes. They bonded with Cate and Luke over NOFX and The Ramones - why would they cover other kinds of music? It felt like pandering to their parents - and they’ve done enough of that for a lifetime. 

“Yes.” Jordan responded with a wry smile, slowing their pace slightly in spite of herself. “We experimented with good music.” That answer, at least, didn’t let the conversation get dragged down into their familial issues.

“Not all good music is from the last forty years, you know.” The freshman pointed out, and she almost laughed aloud. How many times had they heard their dad say the exact same thing, followed up by a bullshit plea for them to perform something he can send to his Zumu? Like 

“Right, because the only good music is from the 1800s.” They retorted, matching her pace as they walked. Despite how annoyingly naive this girl seemed to be, despite the knack she had for parroting their parents talking points, there was something about her that was pulling them in. Her passion for music seemed to rival their own, and she wanted to find out more about the mysterious opera girl. 

“That’s not what I said. But all musicians take influences from each other. Punk came from rock and roll, rock came from the blues, and so on.” She had to keep from rolling her eyes at the way the freshman had tried to summarize decades of cultural, political, and social influences on music genres into a single sentence. Amateur.

“You get all that from some textbook?” She shook her head, laughing to herself. This girl. “Yeah, genres grow from one another, but that doesn’t mean I’m rocking out to Elvis Presley in my spare time.” She said dismissively. They’d been forced to listen to music they hated their whole life - why would they volunteer to do that as an adult? 

“Elvis Presley is a thief - a figurehead bolstered by an entire industry's refusal to acknowledge the musical prowess of black people.” They felt the fire burning in her voice, the strength they’d seen in that fucking practice room rising once more. Something about it was addicting and they couldn’t help but want more, more, more. 

“Ok, ok, bad example. But I’m not bopping along to Big Mama Thornton either.” And yeah, they were hoping to impress her, carefully watching the freshman’s face out of the corner of her eye. They almost thought they saw shock on her face before she barrelled forward. 

“And just because you don’t personally enjoy listening to a genre doesn’t mean it doesn't have value. Some of the best guitarists were part time musicians in Chicago in the 50s. Kokomo Arnold was a legend on slide and inspired Led Zeppelin. I don’t think that means that Plant and Page were rocking out to the blues all the time - just that skill recognizes skill.” They tried to keep their face unimpressed, despite making a mental note to look up the Chicago music scene and Arnold. That name... they’d definitely heard it before. Maybe she should ask Frenchie?

“I didn’t say that they didn’t have value - I just don’t spend hours rehearsing music I don’t like. And I definitely don’t write music I don’t like.” She retorted, glaring up at the taller girl and trying to ignore how her eyes seemed to light up the more she spoke about music. She felt like Marie was playing tug-of-war with her, pulling her in with her insight and her passion before pushing them back with her traditionalist attitude and her naivety - and Jordan was getting dizzy.

“Sometimes you only find something interesting after spending a long time on a piece.” The freshman remarked.  That hit closer to home than they would’ve liked, thinking about the plethora of songs they didn’t truly understand until they’d heard it in a new context. Or until Luke accidentally says something profound while high out of his mind on shrooms.

“You know, I’m beginning to think I was right - voice teacher’s kid?” They snapped, feeling something ugly under the fire burning in their gut. Like a porcupine prickling up at the touch, they weren’t sure how to feel about how easily this headstrong freshman figured her out and got under her skin.

“Well, yeah, but-” They laughed bitterly, trying to hide their genuine surprise at getting that part right. Half of them wanted to spend hours listening to everything she had to say, to pick her brain about music and culture and everything in between. The other half wanted to shut her out, push her away, and run before Opera saw who she really was.

“I don’t want to make music inspired by some dead guy. I don’t want to leave easter eggs for music nerds. I want to write my music.” Their tone came out harsher than they intended - but she wasn’t about to apologize. The arguments she’d had with her parents - the dismissal of their intentions couched in false pleasantries, leaving a sickly sweet aftertaste burning in their throat. There was a part of them that was pleased to see the freshman falter. But the younger girl seemed to have completely shed her earlier shyness as she hurried to keep up.

“I get that. But... we all speak the same language. It’s not your music or my music - it’s music. And there are ways that we can use that language to communicate what we’re trying to say more efficiently. You know?” They hated that she was making any kind of sense, and they hated that the way her voice softened made her heart skip a beat, that the way she tilted her head to the side to contemplate them sent butterflies careening in her stomach.

“That... sounds like a great thesis for an essay assignment in music theory 101, and useless to anyone actually trying to make music.” They scoffed dismissively, trying to regain some ground.

“A clever chord change or use of instruments can give a similar effect to good lyrics.” She was right, and Jordan knew it, and they hated it. Besides, she doesn’t want to study music. She wants to make music. The songs she writes often feel as though they’re living things, slithering through her veins until they come bursting out like an Alien rip off. Half formed, horrid little things that she has to mold into something worth listening to. Nothing about that felt conducive to classrooms and concert halls. It was a messy and visceral process - one that usually involved copious amounts of substances. More than that, it was hers. Not her parents, not Brink’s, not Luke’s. Just theirs.

“It’s not a good effect if half the audience doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” The arguments flew from their lips despite knowing they weren’t fair, and she grit her teeth to keep from taking it back. They didn’t want this girl to know she was helping, that they were taking mental notes for the songs she’s working on. Maybe if she added a key change to Smoke // Lipstick, and shifted it down, they might not need to change the lyrics at all. She could even have Cate or Andre come in on backup vocals to shift the end in the direction they wanted.

“They don’t have to know the technicalities to feel the difference.” The freshman’s voice cut through their contemplations, and the whiplash had them almost forgetting the game they were playing. 

“So you’re one of those academics. This is punk music, not poetry class.” She snapped, despite knowing it was a reductive argument. If they were a little less flustered, they might have made a point about punk being built from a DIY and anti-establishment attitude, and that relying on a mainstream music education is antithetical to those foundational beliefs. But that felt hypocritical to the argument itself and besides, they were beginning to enjoy setting up points for Marie to disprove like dominoes in a line. Just to keep the fire going.

“If you think punk and poetry aren’t inextricably tied to one another, I don’t think you’ve been paying attention. The punk movement is about more than fuck the establishment and daddy issues.” And again, she skipped past the easy answer and cut right to the core of what they were really saying - a dissection of their own biases done so cleanly they weren’t even sure if the freshman realized it.

“I don’t need you to tell me what’s punk, opera.” They snapped, feeling more and more exposed. And it wasn’t just because she was right. There was something deeper, a connection they could feel building between them, and it scared her shitless.

“It seems like you do, Yamaha. When you need something to bring your music to the next level, you know where to find me.” She fired back, and they couldn’t keep from pushing back in kind - what was it about this girl? They were getting closer and closer to the edge of a cliff, to falling into the abyss. 

“Like I’d ever ask you for pointers.You’re probably too uptight to even write on your sheet music” She taunted, their lips twitching into something close to a smile. She could feel something building between them, a swirling vortex threatening to pull them closer, to tie them down, and the need to flee was nearly overwhelming. The fire between them that had been warm and exciting was getting hot - too hot - threatening to burn them. They’ve felt this way before, the rush before the fall, and they can’t go through that again. Not when she’s so close to freedom. She’s got to shut this down before her cracks start to show. “Henderson, right?” They said brusquely, closing themselves back off and flicking a strand of hair from her face, not daring to look at the younger girl. 

“Yeah. This is me. Uh, I’ll see you around.”  They pretended not to hear the confusion and disappointment in Marie’s voice as they finished the rest of their walk alone.

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thanks to my gen v fan buddy and beta reader @perpetualproductions for helping me with my writing and musical accuracy!! and encouragement <3 thanks for sticking with me through my slow slow slow writing

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Fic prompt: vampire!MarieJordan. Silly lil supes who may or may not be able to drink blood, turn into horrific bat creatures, and still find a way to juggle college and all the stress with it. Totally imagine the rest of the crew being vampires. Marie feeling lost and adrift without her family after being changed, only to find other vampires in hiding at GodU. First with her roommate, then with her annoyingly gorgeous TA and their friend group. And after years of coping with the curse alone, hiding the secret in fear of being hunted, she suddenly has a coven to call her family.

Navigating life as a vampire wasn't easy at first. After the horrors of discovering her powers at twelve and being sent to Red River, it felt like the worst luck possible that a rogue vampire would attack the supe orphanage just one year later.

The staff scrambled to accommodate the three newly changed teens - blood bags, night school, blackout curtains - but that didn't make it any easier for them to deal with their condition. The isolation, the constant threat of a raid by vampire hunters, the aches from a hunger that was never fully sated...

All of this to say, Marie wasn't sure how to feel about moving away from the only den she'd ever known (god, she hates that term), and to a place where she was 99% sure she'd be the only vampire there.

When she left, she was handed a small duffel bag of blood bags, an extra bottle of sunscreen, and a small note promising she'd be looked after at GodU, signed only by V.

The first vampire Marie met on campus was also the first actual person she met on campus. Her roommate, Emma. A tiny blonde jumping and waving wildly from a similarly tiny boxing platform. It isn't until later on that first night that Marie dared bring up their shared secret. (Vampires can smell other vampires. It's only weird if you make it weird - which Marie was trying very hard not to do).

"I wasn't expecting to find more... people like me."

"Bloodsuckers, you mean?" Marie couldn't help but laugh at that - and a friendship was born.

It would take the taller girl a few days to get used to Emma's blase and blunt attitude, and even longer to the girl's bear hugs.

Not making things weird was what she was trying to do when she came to discuss her enrollment in Crime Fighting with Jordan Li.

Not all supe vampires are as bubbly and effervescent as Emma, if the glare Jordan was sending her way was any indication.

"And you... you don't even have an insta."

Of course I don't have a fucking insta. I barely made it out of high school with my sanity.

She couldn't help but wonder when they were turned. She'd been so sure that vampire and supe were nearly complete opposite - that making it as a hero would be unreachable for her. But Emma had found her niche, and Jordan Li's a TA - and Rank 2.

But an old man with a gun came in - and before she could even move, the gun went off and Jordan's form shimmered, shifting, changing shape. And the bullet compacted into their chest, leaving only a small hole behind.

"You owe me a new shirt, Professor." Jordan remarked casually, plucking the bullet from their shirt and dropping it onto their desk.

If her heart was still beating, it would've been racing - out of fear or desire, she couldn't tell.

And she's pretty sure it would've stopped all over again when the professor rejected her outright from the program.

Well, shit.

If the idea of other supe vampires shocked her, it's nothing in comparison to her face when Emma told her there was a vampire only club near campus.

"A friend of a friend has an in. It'll be fun, we can get out - without having to deal with the smell."

And despite herself, despite everything - there was a part of her that wanted that. She'd been prepared for a lot - being the only vampire at GodU, all-nighters trying to complete classwork... but being rejected from the program based on her social media presence, knowing that somehow, there were others like her - others who seemed to be able to handle it all a lot better than she could.

And she had to stop herself from wallowing in her own self-pity, because Emma was pulling her out of their dorm and into the night.

Vampires - creatures of the night. Except when you're in an orphanage for dangerous, teenage supes. Even the wind feels dangerous - every movement could be a threat. It's been drilled into her since she was turned - hunters will always be looking for you. even if you've never bitten a human. especially because you have abilities. they will find you, they will take you, they will study you, they will kill you.

"Sammy!" Emma's voice was shrill in her ear, causing her to wince as she scanned the horizon. Ah. This must be The Boy. Her roommate hadn't stopped raving about a mysterious boy she'd been chatting up over the summer.

Behind him stand four more vampires - including Jordan Li. Of course.

"Emma, right? Sam hasn't been able to stop talking about you all summer." Sam whacked Golden Boy, and it finally, really hit her.

It wasn't just one successful supe vampire. Or two. The top 3 students were all vampires. Standing there, half lit in the moonlight, looking at her like a puzzle they weren't sure if they wanted to solve.

Marie had wondered, of course. What other vampires were like, where they lived, if there was anything as elaborate as she'd seen in movies or read about in cheesy romance novels. She didn't know anything about the vampire who turned her or the other two at Red River. Didn't know anything about other vampires at all, really. She assumed that most vampires lived in fear. Solitary - or nearly so. Eking out some kind of existence in the outskirts of the world.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"Oh! This is Marie. My roommate. Sam said I could bring her?" Before anyone else could say a word, Jordan scoffed.

"You gonna reject me from this outing, too?" She cocked her head, not intimidated by the glare Jordan sent back.

"I'd love to." They fired back, and there was something in their eyes that she couldn't quite read. All she knew was that she wanted more.

Meeting the unofficial coven of GodU was one thing. Being allowed in was another. Tonight was a test - of that much, she was sure. More than see it (or hear it), she could feel it. Every exchange was charged with a certain tension that had her on edge.

Emma was oblivious to her inner conflict, her eyes glued to Sam like an over-eager puppy. And his voice was warm and easy, his arm wrapping around Emma's shoulder's like it belonged there.

She could feel Jordan's eyes on her too - but they weren't friendly. They were searing, burning a hole into her skin. They're waiting for her to mess up. Mess up at what, she wasn't sure.

It wasn't until Cate had pulled Marie away to dance (Emma and Sam had disappeared long before) that the three heads of the coven could finally confer about the significance of Sam's guests.

"She's not a normal recruit and you know it." Jordan hissed. "Taking her in is just taking a side in this fucked up war, and we can't afford-"

The three of them were powerful enough vampires (and had met Edgar and his kin enough times) to know the distinct scent of those in his family. "But we don't know it. We know what coven turned her, yes. But that doesn't mean that she is or was a member." Luke's voice was even and warm - only those closest to him would be able to hear the slight edge of worry.

"Edgar has always been real cagey about a few of his missing team members." Andre said carefully.

"You know I won't take someone in unless you both agree. But just... try to have an open mind. I have a good feeling. About both of them."

"That's because you're a sap and your baby brother is happy." Andre teased, and whatever pale excuse for a meeting they had been having was dissolved as the two boyfriends went to dance, and Jordan stood in the corner, watching. Waiting. For what, they weren't sure.

It wasn't one thing that made Jordan suddenly trust the mysterious new girl. Emma was easy - she was known. Sam had been talking about her for months, the Meyer coven were a known neutral party, and she didn't have secrets. At least - she didn't make it obvious she had secrets. But Marie carried a weight behind her eyes that both intrigued and terrified Jordan.

So they had ample reasons not to trust her. And yet... she wormed her way into their life, and they couldn't help the way they began to admire her.

The first was her persistence. She didn't just not take no for an answer. She didn't allow for another option. She appealed their decision up to the Dean of Students. Wrote essay after essay, took two placement exams, and was sickening polite every step of the way. No amount of strange hours, trick questions, or grueling physical challenges could keep her from showing up.

And of course, when Brink couldn't keep rejecting her (despite his own misgivings towards the girl, which he did not share), the celebration was at their den.

Ok, ok, it's the coven's den. But she isn't a member of their coven (yet) and they still didn't really trust her. So they're back to standing in a corner and glaring, trying to figure out what it is about this girl that had them all tangled up.

Or maybe, they're just trying to find a reason that doesn't involve her smile.

They'd been trying to hide the way they were staring when Marie gave the first hint that Luke had been right all along. They should've known he’d be right. He usually is. The four girls were standing outside as Jordan sparked a joint, the full moon giving them all a slightly eerie glow.

"I'm still kind of surprised there's so many of us."

"You said that the day we met, too. What, did you think you'd be the only one?" Emma laughed, but Marie just looked a little embarrassed. If she's acting, she's real good at it. Their eyes narrow, imperceptibly. Watching.

Cate seemed to catch on to Jordan's expression. She could see the shift - the questions they weren't asking, the details they weren't sharing. So she did what she's best at. She pushed. "Lots of covens worked with Vought. Made it easier on the kids." Marie only seemed more confused.

"Wait... were you turned on purpose?" Marie's question seemed to echo in the night, and all three girls turned to look at her quizzically.

"Were you not?"

Vampires didn't need to breathe - but most did. Partially out of habit, partially because it felt good. So they could see the way Marie's entire body tensed, whatever breath was in her lungs stilling. She can't be acting. This is... too real.

The silence stretched as they all waited for an explanation from Marie.

"I was in an orphanage. For supes. Someone broke in. Three of us survived, but we were turned." She laughed once, dryly. "The staff had no idea what to do with us. I... you were turned on purpose?" She repeated hoarsely, turning to Jordan like they were the only one she trusted to tell the whole truth. Why, they had no idea - they'd been performing general dislike fairly well over the past month and a half. But there she was, looking down at them with those big doe eyes, looking for answers.

"Yeah, we- we all come from covens. We got turned in these big, bullshit ceremonies." They couldn't keep the bitterness from their tone, despite knowing that Marie's situation sounded far, far worse. "There are very few rogues who get as far as whoever turned you did."

"You were in an orphanage? I'm your best friend, why didn't I know that?" Emma's tone is playful enough to make it clear she doesn't actually hold it against her roommate, but Marie looks admonished just the same.

"It's a long story, Em." She hedged. “Not one I like reliving.” That they could understand. They were beginning to see Marie in a new light - and they passed her the joint wordlessly. 

“What do you know about... our kind? Other than the... obvious.” Cate’s question was innocent enough - and it fit the news they’d just received - but Jordan wasn’t oblivious to what she was really getting at. Another test. If Marie was acting, she was damn good at it. But she’d be expecting this question. If she was a spy for Edgar - or someone else - she would’ve been trained on exactly how to answer this question.

Marie took a few moments to answer - but she didn’t seem to be searching for a script or for distant memories. She was assessing risk. 

“Basically nothing.” She finally admitted. “The only reason I’m not trapped in some lab or a pile of dust is because of some anonymous... benefactor who keeps me fed. I know there are vampire hunters everywhere, I know I can’t be in the sun without the crazy thick sunscreen...” her face twisted slightly as she thought back.  

Hunters. Not something they thought about much anymore, if they were honest. Being a part of a coven shielded them some, of course, but after the power shift within Vought that left Compound-V an open secret... 

 The hunters became the hunted. Most areas had a certain level of truce for non-offending vampires,  and that was that. 

This girl really was clueless - or from another era.. Maybe both.

Cate quirked an eyebrow. “Who taught you all this stuff? You said the staff was clueless,” She smiled, easing the younger girl’s nerves effortlessly as she plucked the still smoldering joint from her fingers. Marie’s brow furrowed in thought.

“There was a book. Sherry said it showed up a week after, along with a note.” Marie paused again, another furtive look across the faces of the other vampires. “It said Sorry for the trouble. He won’t be back.” The way she pressed her lips together made it clear to Jordan she was still withholding information. But in a way, it only made them trust her more. If she’d been given a script, or if she was lying... she wouldn’t have anything to hold back.

That’s when Marie’s story really hit them. The transformation ceremony may have been bullshit, it may be so trenched in traditional gender roles that they felt a crawling sense of wrong for days after, but at least they knew what was coming. At least they’d always known what they’d become. It was hard to imagine waking up one day not even knowing vampires exist and going to bed with that gnawing, aching hunger. Not understanding what was happening or why.

“A book?” Emma’s voice cut into their revelations, grinning widely. 

“A Brief Guide to Living Undead, I think?” Marie’s brow was still furrowed as she tried to remember. “They were worried we might ruin it, or something, so they didn’t actually let us read it.” 

“Ok, that’s kind of insane.” Jordan’s mouth moved before their brain caught up, but they wouldn’t take it back. “You were in an orphanage, not jail.” 

“It... was a bit more complicated than that.” Marie said after a moment. The silence hung in the air for a moment - not uncomfortable or tense, just calculating. The only one who wasn’t playing a game was Emma, and they could feel her eyes darting between them and Cate, searching for answers. But Jordan kept their eyes on Cate for a long while. Waiting for a shift, a signal that she’d noticed something they hadn’t. But there was nothing. 

“Alright. Tell Luke we’re good.” They said finally. Cate grinned. They could see out of the corner of their eye, the way Marie stiffened. Like she hadn’t even realized this was part of the test.

“Welcome to the coven, girls.” She said, her smile only widening when Jordan flipped her off. They turned to the other two. 

“Technically, you aren’t a part of the coven until the initiation with Luke. But that’s all formalities.” They waved dismissively. “You’re both in.” Emma squealed before running off to tell Sam. Both Jordan and Marie had to suppress a smile as they watched Emma go. The little blonde had a way of worming into people’s hearts. But Marie turned back to Jordan, her eyes narrowing slightly. 

“How much of that was a test?” Marie asked them skeptically, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. They had to suppress the nerve to swallow hard under her scrutiny. Despite the way her doe eyes had entranced them just a few minutes earlier, her gaze was now stern, almost piercing.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” They parroted. She raised an eyebrow, and they caved. “Ok. Let’s start here. You know how you can scent other vampires?” They couldn’t help the way their teacher voice turned on as they spoke. If Marie noticed, she didn’t say anything. She just nodded, her eyes on them and them alone. “Some vampire families have... distinct smells.” They added, watching her face for any reaction or confusion. But her face gave nothing away. So they continued. “You were turned by someone in a... powerful family.” They watched her reaction - the way her eyes widen slightly, the way her body freezes for a brief moment, her trembling hands. This poor girl has no idea the world she was forced into. “We weren’t... trying to test your knowledge or extract your trauma. Just-”

“You wanted to make sure I wasn’t a spy.” Their jaw snapped shut, and they nodded. 

“Sometimes I forget how smart you are.” They muttered to themself.

“Try not to make that mistake again.” She smiled at them, moving back towards the main house. They smirked in return, grateful for once that they couldn’t blush.

Things fell into a strange yet easy routine after the initiation. Emma and Marie had to complete their residency at the dorms - though Emma spent most nights in Sam’s room at the den, leaving Marie alone in the dormitory. At first - that was great. She could watch what she wanted, do homework when she needed, and masturbate when the mood struck her. She’d never had a room to herself - co-sleeping with her parents to sharing a room with Annabeth to the room of bunks at Red River to the dorm she shares with Emma...

Alone time can be nice. But the night comes and the lights go off and she’s staring at the ceiling, trying not to remember the horrors that haunt her nightmares, and all she wants is a reminder she isn’t the only one alive. 

When you’ve seen a dead body, you never forget the look in their eyes. The light entirely sucked out, nothing but flesh and bone and blood where love and life used to be. She can see her mother’s dead eyes clearer than her smile. The smell of the kids at Red River who didn’t survive long enough to be turned can never be washed from her mind - and in the quiet of the night, she can almost smell it still.

She needs some fucking air.

That’s how she ends up wandering through the quad, walking through campus like the night air could wash away her guilt. She notices Jordan immediately, but she doesn’t say a word. Not even when they step next to her, matching her pace as they walked.

“Can’t sleep?” They ask, their voice slightly gruffer than normal. Marie shook her head, not quite trusting her voice yet. But Jordan just nodded, allowing them to slip into an easy silence. It’s another few minutes before they break the quiet again. “You know... I... I can’t imagine what it was like. The not knowing.” They didn’t dare look at her, unsure of how she would take this. This honesty was new for them, a kind of vulnerability that they rarely allowed themself to exhibit. Marie paused for a moment, taking them in again with that searching look of hers that made them feel exposed. 

“Was that why you let me in?” They had to look away - she could practically see right through them. “Because you pitied me?” Her voice was cold, and they had to fight the urge to shrink back at her tone.

“No.” They said firmly. “Those questions were exclusively to see if you had a scripted response. Besides - you know me by now. I’m not that easily swayed.” They bumped her shoulder easily, ignoring the spark that ignited in their chest when they touched her. “I just meant... things are different now that you’re one of us. And they’ll get even better once you guys are actually home.” 

Marie had to fight to hide the way her whole body reacted to that statement. Home. They’d said so easily, so naturally, like her belonging there was a foregone conclusion - and one they were happy about. 

“You don’t sound too bothered by having your home crashed by two more weirdos.” She said lightly - though she was watching their every move. Waiting for their reaction.  

“If I was bothered, I wouldn’t have given the go ahead.” Another not-so-casual shoulder bump. Another hidden smile. Another spark dancing across their skin, which had been cold for too long. God, she’s beautiful. They can’t help but drink her in - the moon in her eyes, the smile playing on her lips. “Besides, it’ll be nice to have someone who’ll actually want to study with me. Andre’s come up with some wild excuses to skip out on classwork.” They watched Marie’s face carefully. Were they being too forward? But she smiled back at them, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Are you asking me on a date, Li?” They felt the smile stretch across their face and didn’t feel the need to fight it. 

“You’ll know if I’m asking you on a date, Moreau. And our first date won’t be studying in the den’s library.” They scoffed playfully, stepping closer to Marie and taking her hand on instinct. What was it about this girl that made them so bold?

“You seem pretty confident there will be a first date.” But she let them hold her hand, their fingers intertwining like they belonged together. 

“There’s something about you, Marie. There’s always been something about you.” They squeezed her hand, feeling (not for the first time) that emptiness where a heart should be. The missing human part of them that should be responding to her. But they can still feel her - feel that bubbling, rushing, lurching feeling of falling. 

It almost feels like the moment they were turned - the moment their heart thudded to stop. And it feels like the first time they shifted. Fear, excitement, and a sense of certainty.

Like this was exactly what they were meant to be doing.

One Year Later

“Hey, baby,” Marie couldn’t help the way her body sagged into her partner’s as they came up behind her, the transformation from bat to vampire just as seamless as their transformation between forms. “I told you not to wait up for me,” They chastised her gently, pressing their lips to her head, her cheek, her neck....

“And I told you I worry,” she murmured back, turning to face them. “You may be immortal, and invincible, and incredibly charming, but -” she ducked her head to hide a smile (and definitely not to give Jordan more access to her skin). “ - these meetings could go sideways in an instant.” Ever since the Christmas Surprise, the issue of who exactly turned her and what her connection to the Edgars was became less of a curiosity and more of an urgent concern. 

Getting a monogrammed stake on Christmas morning will do that to a coven.

“The boys have my back.” They tried to ease their girlfriend’s worries, pressing another kiss to her neck, relishing soft sighs slipping from her lips.

“Because they know I’d stake them on sight if they didn’t bring you home to me.”  One moment, Marie was resting in Jordan’s embrace, letting them press their lips along the line of her throat. The next, she had them pinned against the wall, her eyes darkening as she held them easily against the drywall.

This wasn’t the first time she’d said something like this, but they couldn’t blame her. There was a reason they didn’t let her come along - and it wasn’t because she was incapable. No matter how logical Cate sounded when she explained it or how powerful they knew Marie was, their girlfriend was not about to be bait for one of the most historied covens in the city.

“Angel,” Marie’s hold didn’t falter as they spoke. “As much as I enjoy all of this,” Their hand snaked around her waist to grab her ass. “I was sent up here to get you.” There was a flicker of something in their eyes, a fondness that seemed slightly out of place for the heated moment. So despite wanting nothing more than to throw the shorter girl onto the bed behind her and make them listen, she let them down gently. 

“More meetings?” She hoped she didn’t sound like she was whining.

Jordan never answered her question, just smiling slyly and taking her hand, leading her down the winding stairs. And there, hanging above a folding table weighed down by fancy blood-based cocktails, was a banner that read:

H A P P Y  O N E  Y E A R  E M M A,  M A R I E,  A N D  S A M !

Her whole coven was grinning and clapping, Emma was wearing a sparkly sash and cheering loudly, her partner was smiling at her like they won something magnificent, and she was struck by all the love that surrounded her. Love she thought that she lost the right to years ago.

When being a vampire really settled for her, maybe a few months into living at Red River, she had a hard time imagining any kind of happy future. She’d get some meaningless degree, work some shitty job, and live on the outskirts of society for all eternity. She thought about becoming a nurse - easy access to blood bags, a chance she might be able to atone for her mistakes. 

That felt like the best life she could hope for. Hiding, running, surviving. And then Emma Meyer comes bounding into her life, bringing with her more vampires and more happiness than she thought was possible. It was like Jordan said under the moon, all those nights ago. 

She’s home.

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Masterlist

requests, musings, etc are open! 18+. MDNI! I'm very slow. I mainly write about Jordan Li and Gen V, but I've been a lurker in a lot of fandoms so don't be shy about asking about other characters or other things.

AUs I'm always contemplating: werewolf - ballet - exes to lovers - spy - soulmates - supernatural - rivals to lovers - bodyguard - band - angst - fluff - smut - and more!

types of requests i love: song fics - head canons - mood boards - one shots - lore dumps - au ideas - writing prompts (sfw and nsfw) - x reader prompts - canon/non-canon couple prompts - and more! i'm always down to chat <3

Ao3

Cross The Line: 19.9k words, 16 chapters

All I've Ever Known: 22.1k words, 11 chapters

Next to Normal: 13.6k words, 3 chapters

Various Oneshots: 19.5k words, 19 oneshots

Out of the Woods: 8.9k words, single chapter

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Multi-Chapter

Cross The Line - A Ballet Jordan Li AU inspired by @poppy-metal

All I've Ever Known - A Jordan Li x Luke's Little Sister AU

Next to Normal - A LiMoreau College Punk Band AU

One-Shots

Out of the Woods - LoveDrug - Secrets - Jealousy - Muddy Waters - Just...Why? - In Which Jordan And Marie Are Forced To Figure It Out - Maybe I Do Need You - A Painful Misunderstanding - Friends Don't Kiss Like This - Do You Remember? - First Date/Last Night - Fast Car - I Won't Pretend That I Won't Miss This - Jealous Limoreau - Yes, No, Who Cares - All Bets Are Off - Game Night - My Submission is a Gift (smut tw) - Maybe We're Not So Different (self-injury tw) - Heist!AU Scraps - Exes To Lovers Imagine

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Nothing Short of Wonderful - Cross the Line Part 16

What if, when we're dancing, he dips me, our lips meet and we glide across the room

And it feels nothing short of wonderful

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Meg lifted her eyes from her anatomy textbook and frowned, watching her roommate tear apart her closet in a frenzy. “Did your dance-partner-slash-crush finally ask you out?” Ella pulled her head out of the wardrobe to make a face at Meg. 

“No. I got invited to a party. And I’m going. Because it should be fun.” She said stiffly, cursing her past self for ever mentioning anything about Jordan to Meg. She had the kind of friendship with Meg that could barely be called friendship - they’re barely more than acquaintances - and sometimes, she wishes things were different. Her dad is still good friends with his college roommate, and she always thought she’d be the same. But the two girls lived very different lives - and they were both busy. They lived together, and yet, they usually spent less than a couple hours together, outside of sleeping in the same room.

But Meg didn’t push her on the party, or on Jordan - probably because she couldn’t be bothered to get caught up in her drama. She just nodded before turning back to her work. And who could blame her? Ella could barely put up with her own drama. She went back to her wardrobe, staring intently at the pastel pile of fabric like a leather skirt or a bustier would manifest itself. The idea of making Jordan see her didn’t seem so plausible when she saw herself in the bright lights of her dorm room. Soft and sweet in nature, she wondered if she had enough substance underneath. Was there enough of her to stand up in the world, or would she melt away like cotton candy in the rain?

The closest thing to sexy or even alluring that she owned was a slip that she’d bought based on peer pressure alone the last time she went shopping with her coworkers. Jane kept going on and on about how she should have something to wear if she ever brought someone home. It was burgundy, and lacy, and only appropriate to go out in if she wore something else underneath it - 

Fuck it. She pulls on a baby tee before pulling the slip over her head, shivering slightly as the cool silk hit her skin. She pulls out the only red lipstick she owns, painting it over her lips before shaking her hair out over her shoulders.

And when she caught her reflection in the windows of her building, she almost didn’t recognize herself. She actually looked... attractive. Yet, not even the combat boots she’d borrowed from Meg could disguise the nerves that seemed to have made a home in her throat since her conversation with Luke. She felt like she was playing a game where everyone but her knew the rules, and the feeling only got worse as she approached the door to Luke’s townhouse. She could hear the party already going, thumping bass and laughing college students spilled out the front door as people flowed in and out.

Small get-together, my ass.

But Cate spotted her quickly, grabbing her arm and pushing a cup of punch in her hands. “This is my special recipe - it’s basically just juice!” Looking back, she can’t help but blame herself for how things escalated. She knew she should have thought more about what Cate was saying, asked more questions, done something other than letting the older girl push the cup to her lips, encouraging her to take a large sip before refilling the cup without asking. “Have fun, dance, relax! You’ve earned it!” She was yelling over the noise, grinning at the younger girl as she guided her to the dance floor. Cate leaned in, her hair forming a curtain between them as she murmured in her ear. “Seriously, Ella. You’ve been working hard, and kicking ass. You deserve to relax, have fun, let your hair down. And you look - “ She paused, very obviously checking Ella out. Ella could feel heat spreading over her cheeks again and her eyes darted away from Cate’s. “ - you look hot as fuck. Go, have fun!” 

And she did. The punch Cate had handed her really did taste just like juice, sweet and easy to drink. She could feel the warmth filling her veins and her cup never seemed to get empty. She was, finally, relaxing. She didn’t notice the way Cate and Luke seemed to be a little too interested in her, or the way time slid past her as she danced. Nothing seemed to matter but the music and her hips swirling to the beat. Her body moved without her input, hips swirling on the dance floor like she was one with the music. She didn’t feel drunk, or tipsy (though she’d only had alcohol twice before tonight), but she also didn’t notice the guy behind her until he was ... right behind her. 

She smelled him before he touched her - he smelled as if he bathed in Axe Body Spray, but her tongue felt thick in her mouth, making it hard for her to even greet the man, much less tease him for his awful choice in cologne (or what passes for cologne among frat boys).

For a fleeting moment, she considered dancing with him. If she ignored the way his sneaker scuffed the back of her boot as he stepped on her feet, if she turned her head just slightly so the overbearing odor didn’t entirely choke her out, maybe she could just be normal. Dance with a guy, have another drink, and forget about being delicate and precise and pushing her body past its limits.

Then he actually reached her, and she was overwhelmed with a sense of wrong. His hand - too hot, too big - slid onto her hip like he had a right to her body, trying to pull her into him. Any plans of playing the relaxed college girl flew out the window as one thought became louder than the others: I want Jordan. And despite the embarrassment that bubbled in her throat at that, her body was moving without her say-so. She stepped forward, trying to get out of his grip, but she stumbled and he pulled her back.

“Haven’t seen you at one of these before. I’m Marcus.” She ignored his lame attempt at a line, trying again to step out of his beefy grip. Her skin crawled as his hand brushed her bare skin, her only focus on getting space to breathe. The alcohol from that punch seemed to catch up with her all at once, and she could feel the room spinning around her. She cursed herself for being such a lightweight as Marcus pulled her back again, their hips slamming together. Her skin was getting clammy and everything was getting a bit too loud and she thought she might actually get sick. His grip was only getting tighter and she was beginning to actually get scared when -- a loud voice echoed from behind her.

“Hey!”

She knew that voice. Jordan.

And then, before she could say or do anything more, she saw their fist fly towards his face.

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[freakshowtwopointoh]

Hey, Little Songbird - Cross the Line Part 15

See how the vipers and vultures surround you...

See, people get mean when the chips are down

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Things between Ella and Jordan barely thawed after that day, which made dancing together a totally different kind of torture. She could handle Jordan’s bluntness, she could handle their ruthless nature. When she trusted that they saw something valuable in her. But now... 

The foundation had cracked.

“Again, Jackson. You keep coming in at the wrong angle.” She can’t suppress a sigh of irritation. 

“Can we move on? You keep having me redo this entrance, and we don’t even know what the blocking will be. Let’s dance.” 

“Again, Jackson.” They gritted out. That’s how it went, day in and day out. Any gesture towards collaboration was long gone, and the room that had been getting more comfortable for her was now icier than ever. 

But she ran through her entrance again. And again. And again. And somehow, they actually completed the pas de deux before the sun had fully set. Despite their attitude, she still couldn’t deny the way their touch lit her up from the inside out. And she still couldn’t keep her eyes off of them while they danced.

“See you tomorrow morning, freshie. Don’t be late.” They said dismissively, once they finally made it through the scene to their standards. They made their way out of the rehearsal room without looking back, shoving their dance bag onto their shoulder with more force than strictly necessary. 

The door slid closed behind them, trembling slightly in the tracks as it shut.

Saturday morning rehearsals were a total crap-shoot when it came to their mood, and she wasn’t looking forward to it. 

“Things seem to really be coming along for you guys,” A warm voice broke the tense silence of the dance room. She should’ve been more suspicious of Luke, trying to be nice so soon after Cate’s friendly advice, but something about Luke is disarming, in all the ways a pretty boy with a nice smile can be.

“It’s a lot of hard work, but that’s ballet, right?” She manages with a tired smile, untying her slippers and massaging her feet. 

“You make it look easy,” He said warmly, and she couldn’t help but wonder what dance he’d been watching. How long had he been there?

“I don’t know about that,” She said, laughing awkwardly. “I- how are things coming along with you? For Mercutio, I mean.” The look that passed over his face was hard to read.

“Well. I mean, I’m getting pretty good at dying in ballet,” He made a show of collapsing to the floor, his arms held in a mockery of fifth position. She couldn’t keep from laughing at that, truly laughing. It felt like the first time in a week that she’d been able to take a deep breath. When she looked up, he was closer than she’d realized, blond hair slightly out of place. An easy smile pulling at his lips as he looked at her like she meant something. Like she belonged.

Looking back on this moment, it was so easy to see the manipulation. The way he played her so easily, like she was the winning move in a game of chess. But in the moment - everything he did, every move he made felt so genuine.

“Hey, I was meaning to ask. There’s a party at mine tonight - just a small get together, really, and I was wondering if you’d want to come?” He smiled at her like she’d be doing him a favor for going to his party. 

“I mean, I have rehearsal in the morning...” She started hesitantly, the protest sounding weak in her own ears.

“It’s Friday. You think they’re staying in and watching HGTV?” 

And how could she say no? If she was late or hungover tomorrow, Jordan could deal. She’d put up with worse from them in the past. And deep down, there was a part of her that wanted them to be there. That wanted them to see her in the dimly lit room, in a skirt too short, dancing in the way she can’t in the studio. 

“Okay.” She said finally. A smile stretched across Luke’s face and he pushed himself off the studio floor with more grace than should be legal. He handed her his number, scrawled on a sticky note - complete with a smiley face.

“Text me for directions. See you soon, Ella!” She could feel a blush spreading up her neck, tinging her ears a pale pink to match her leotard.

She should’ve known better.

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[freakshowtwopointoh]

Last Line Tag Game 🪩

Rules: post the last line you wrote, then tag as many people as there are words (or however many people you like).

thanks to @perpetualproductions for tagging me

"Who would've thought life could end up this bright?"

this is from the random fluff fic i wrote the other week . may revisit limoreau wedding fluff someday

tagging: @svmbers @pittsick @artdcnaldson @fallecupid @writing-mlm @wondrfuls @witchesdevonne @mostlyghoestly @nsfwest

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Out Of The Woods

Remember when we couldn't take the heat? I walked out, I said, "I'm setting you free" But the monsters turned out to be just trees, When the sun came up, you were looking at me

you've been on the outside of everything for as long as you can remember. never allowed to make friends. never building anything that lasts. you're a ghost - like the specters you pretend to see. until them. you want to save them. protect them from the chaos going on right under their noses. that's almost like loving someone. right? but what can you say, as everything comes crashing down?

Archive Of Our Own | Tumblr | Wattpad

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[freakshowtwopointoh]

just trying to get a general feel for interest. calling all limoreau fic writers! i've had a really vague fic idea floating around in my head since s1 and thought it could be cool to have each chapter written by a different author in the community! we can also beta read for each other and chat about the plot/direction. the general vibe i was thinking is spy/heist post-college mystery/romance, and each chapter is associated with a bond theme song.

feel free to send me asks/messages if u have questions or w/e