#Record scratch AU lore

[get-rammed]

Testing Project Starlight's ability to taste is very serious work

[astrcmoni]

⭒✮⭒ good kisser ⭒✮⭒

MASTERLIST

synopsis: what starts as a simple trip to visit her family in georgia takes an unexpected turn when billie crosses paths with you—a mystery she can’t unravel, a pull she can’t ignore, and a connection that feels as inevitable as it is dangerous.

genre: angst, fluff, suggestive smut

pairing: cowgirl!fem!reader x billie eilish

wc: 14.1k

warnings: cowgirl!au, cussing, brief mentions of death, various confrontations, mentions of a gun, annoying ass ex, unwanted attention from a man, making out. thats it i think.

authors note: pay close attention to figure out what’s going on. this was inspired by the movie holes as well as the song good kisser by usher. let me know if you guys want the lore behind this fic. also ignore the spacing i had to make the words fit somehow😭

the truck rumbles over the uneven dirt road, the hum of the tires blending with the cicadas’ song. the late afternoon heat seeps through the windows, thick and cloying, settling into the fabric of the seats. billie is slouched in the back, limbs heavy, exhaustion pressing into her bones. her earbuds do little to drown out the tangled sounds of her family—laughter, chatter, the occasional clang of something shifting in the trunk. she prays it’s not her luggage getting battered against the walls.

her uncle’s deep voice rises and falls, weaving through the warm drawls of her cousins as they catch her up on the latest gossip from a town she barely remembers. he grips the wheel with one hand, the other draped lazily over the doorframe, fingers tapping against the sun-warmed metal. wisps of blonde peek out from beneath a sweat-stained baseball cap, blue eyes sharp as he navigates the bumpy terrain with the ease of someone who’s done this drive a thousand times. the lines around his mouth deepen when he chuckles, the sound rolling and familiar, blending seamlessly with the drone of tires against gravel.

billie offers a polite nod or a faint smile when someone glances her way, but her mind is elsewhere.

her forehead rests against the window, the glass cool against her sun-heated skin. outside, the landscape unfurls in slow motion—rolling hills stretching into the distance, pastures bathed in gold beneath the weight of a fading sun. a lone bird cuts across the sky, wings outstretched, black against the light. it feels like another world entirely, so far from the tangled skyline and neon hum of los angeles.

her music sputters, the connection straining in the vastness of the countryside. the song plays smoothly for a moment, then stutters, catching on itself like a scratched record. the buffering icon spins, lazy and mocking.

she sighs, eyes flicking to the single, flickering signal bar. useless.

with a huff, she swipes out of the app, shutting her phone off and tugging her headphones down around her neck. now she has nothing to drown out the voices in the front seat, nothing to muffle the weight of this unfamiliar place pressing down on her.

her cousins are still talking, voices rising and falling in easy rhythm. she listens despite herself, catching pieces of a story about someone named tommy—how he roughed up some guy last week, something about money, something about a warning.

“you okay, hun?”

billie blinks, her head snapping up at the sound of her aunt’s voice. her gaze finds the rearview mirror, hazel eyes meeting hers in the reflection. there’s something knowing in her stare, something gentle.

“mhm,” billie hums, offering a small nod.

her aunt may doesn’t press, just shifts slightly in her seat, her red hair catching in the wind that filters through the open window. the sunlight turns it to fire, burning bright against the dust-speckled air. her feet are propped up on the dashboard, elbow resting against the frame of the truck, the picture of effortless comfort. her eyes flick to the mirror every so often, watching, checking.

beside her, the twins are deep in conversation. savannah, all strawberry-blonde waves and quick hands, gestures wildly as she speaks, her words tumbling out in a rush. carter, sprawled back against the seat, listens with a lazy smirk, his greenish-hazel eyes shifting between her and the passing scenery.

“so tommy beat the shit outta that guy last week,” carter says, stretching his legs out with an amused huff. “had him beggin’. ”

savannah scoffs. “well, he had it comin’. dumbass thought he could rip him off and just walk away.”

“language, you two,” their mother chides, voice light but firm.

“sorry,” they mutter in unison, sheepish but unbothered.

the truck finally rolls to a stop in front of the ranch, dust curling up around the tires, hanging thick in the heat. billie stretches her legs before the door even swings open, her body stiff from the long ride.

her uncle travis steps out first, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. he slams the door shut, then cups a hand around his mouth.

“dj! come help your cousin with her bags!”

the screen door creaks open, and out steps dj. auburn hair catching in the dying sunlight, hazel eyes sharp and steady as they scan the yard. she wipes her hands on a towel slung over her shoulder, moving down the steps with an easy kind of confidence, like she’s never known the feeling of being out of place. she’s only a year older than billie, but something about the way she carries herself makes the distance between them feel wider.

“you get shorter, billie?” dj teases, a smirk tugging at her lips.

billie rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she steps out onto the dirt. “you get uglier?”

dj barks out a laugh, tossing the towel over her shoulder. “nah, still the prettiest thing in town.”

billie snorts, and for the first time since she got in the truck, she feels something settle in her chest—something lighter, something almost like home.

dj rolls her eyes, but there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she steps forward, pulling billie into a quick, firm hug. her arms are strong, familiar, smelling of sun-warmed cotton and leather, the faintest trace of hay clinging to her shirt.

“what’s up, city girl?” dj teases, pulling back, one brow raised. “finally decided to come hang out with us country folk?”

billie huffs a tired laugh. “something like that.”

dj reaches for one of billie’s bags, hoisting it out of the truck bed with ease. the twins, still loitering nearby, exchange a look before savannah leans in toward her brother, voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. whatever she says makes carter snort, shaking his head.

“how was the flight?” dj asks, shifting the bag onto her shoulder.

billie groans. “long. i swear, if i had to sit next to that crying baby for one more hour—”

“oh, look,” carter interrupts from the porch, grinning as he leans lazily against the railing. “dj’s killer girlfriend is back in town.”

savannah snickers, blue eyes bright with mischief. “should we start planning the wedding?”

dj shoots them both a glare, her grip tightening on the strap of billie’s bag. “shut the hell up.”

carter only smirks wider. “what? it’s true. haven’t seen her around much lately, but people still talk.”

billie, now intrigued, raises a brow. “who?”

the twins glance at each other again before savannah jerks her chin toward the neighboring ranch, just across the dirt road.

“her.”

billie follows their gaze. standing in the middle of a sun-drenched field, a sleek black horse grazes lazily, its coat gleaming like oil beneath the fading light. beyond it, the ranch stretches out—fenced-in pastures, a weathered stable, a house tucked away behind it all, its porch wrapped in shadow.

carter crosses his arms. “she’s got the black horse. a real nice one. she takes good care of it, though.”

dj shifts uncomfortably, adjusting the strap of billie’s bag. “don’t listen to them.”

savannah ignores her. “people say she’s dangerous.”

carter nods. “no one really knows what she does when she’s not here, but when she is…” he trails off, letting the words settle like dust in the heat.

dj exhales sharply, her jaw tight. “you two sound like every old drunk at the bar.”

“just sayin’,” savannah mutters, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in her expression now.

dj’s patience snaps. “don’t just say. y’all steady talkin’ like you don’t know her yourselves. shut the hell up and take the rest of billie’s stuff inside.” her voice is edged, firm, and the look she gives them isn’t one to challenge.

the twins exchange one last glance before sighing, heads ducking slightly as they grab the rest of the luggage. their movements are slower now, quieter—like scolded puppies slinking away.

billie watches them disappear into the house before turning back to dj, curiosity curling tight in her chest.

“what’s your deal?” she asks, watching as dj slams the truck’s trunk shut, the sound ringing out into the still evening.

dj doesn’t answer at first, just exhales sharply through her nose. “she’s just not someone you should mess around with, that’s all.”

which, of course, only makes billie more interested.

she casts one last glance toward the neighboring ranch. the black horse stands motionless now, ears flicking, as if sensing her gaze.

instead of heading inside, she sets her bags down near the porch and starts across the road.

dj stiffens. “billie, i’m serious.”

billie lifts a hand in dismissal. “i’m just saying hi.”

dj curses under her breath but doesn’t follow.

as billie moves closer, the air shifts. the heat is heavier here, the cicadas louder, their buzzing tangled in the dry breeze. the fences are worn, but sturdy. the stable door hangs slightly ajar, dark inside, like a mouth left open mid-sentence. the house beyond it is quiet. too quiet.

she slows her steps, her shoes kicking up dust.

her curiosity hums beneath her skin, insistent.

something about this place feels like a held breath.

she keeps walking.

the black horse lifts its head when billie approaches, ears flicking forward, nostrils flaring slightly as it takes in her scent. the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the pasture, bathing the world in gold, turning the dust at her feet into something almost ethereal.

“hey there,” she murmurs, reaching out, fingers just grazing the stallion’s sleek coat, warm beneath her touch.

the moment barely settles before a voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and unwavering.

“who in the hell said you could touch my horse?”

billie startles, turning on instinct. you’re standing a few feet away, a bag of supplies slung carelessly in one hand, the other resting against your hip. dark jeans worn in all the right places, scuffed boots that have seen miles of dirt roads, rolled-up sleeves revealing the kind of forearms that come from real work, not gym hours.

the sun catches on the angles of your face—sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, eyes that narrow just slightly, unreadable. your expression is the kind that makes people second-guess their presence. makes them wonder if they’ve overstayed a welcome that was never there in the first place.

billie swallows, suddenly aware of how dry her mouth is. “sorry,” she says quickly, pulling her hand back. “i just got here for the summer. wanted to introduce myself.”

your gaze flicks over her, slow and unimpressed. “that don’t explain why you’re over here on my property. hands all over my damn horse.”

billie scratches the back of her neck, trying for a smile. “didn’t think he’d mind.”

you step closer, the distance between you shrinking to something taut and charged. the air shifts, thickens. billie feels it settle against her skin, the weight of your stare pressing in.

“well, i do.”

a pause, then her voice, quieter now. “what’s his name?”

your fingers flex against the bag in your hand before your gaze flickers briefly toward the stallion.

“…storm. his name is storm.”

billie exhales through her nose, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “fitting.”

you don’t respond, just click your tongue, turning your attention back to the horse, adjusting the bridle with practiced ease. there’s a familiarity in the way your hands move, in the way storm settles beneath your touch. billie watches, her curiosity growing roots, tangling into something deeper.

then you glance past her, your expression shifting, flattening into something edged.

“tell your cousin to stop staring at me.”

billie frowns, following your gaze. sure enough, dj is leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the two of you with something unreadable simmering beneath her stare.

billie sighs, turning back to you. “just ignore her.” a beat, then, “what’s the history between you two anyway?”

your lips curl—not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. something in between. something knowing.

“ask her.”

before billie can push further, dj is suddenly beside her, voice firm. “alright, let’s go.”

her grip on billie’s arm is tight, not quite rough, but close enough. an insistence, a warning. but billie doesn’t move, brows pulling together.

“we were talking.”

dj’s gaze flicks to you, then back. her voice drops, steady. “and now you’re not.”

you let out a quiet, amused breath, rolling your eyes. “good lord.”

dj exhales sharply, like she’s trying to rein something in. her voice is lower now, almost like she doesn’t want billie to hear. “i don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it’s not gonna work.”

your smirk deepens, arms crossing over your chest as you lean against the fence. “yeah? and what exactly do you think i’m doing?”

dj steps in closer, the air between you charged. “don’t play dumb. you always do this—pop back up like nothing happened, like you didn’t leave shit all messy the last time.”

billie shifts beside her, confused. “okay, am i the only one not following this conversation?”

you don’t acknowledge her. your eyes stay locked on dj, steady, unreadable.

“your cousin loves running her mouth, but she don’t ever say nothing real.”

dj lets out a dry laugh, tilting her chin up. “and you love pretending like shit don’t stick.”

you push off the fence, stepping into her space just enough. enough to force her to make a choice—stand her ground or back up. she doesn’t move.

“if you got something to say, i suggest you say it. or is your little audience making you nervous?”

dj’s jaw tightens, but her voice lowers, words meant only for you. “i know exactly what you are.”

a slow grin spreads across your lips, something lazy, something dangerous. “then you should know better than to step to me like this.”

the air crackles, thick with something unsaid, something old. something neither of you are willing to be the first to name.

then—

the screen door slams.

“dj!” may’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “you better leave that woman alone and come inside.”

your expression doesn’t shift, but you glance toward the porch, raising a hand in greeting.

“hi, ms. may.” your voice is softer now, almost polite, but there’s something else lurking beneath it. something unreadable.

your eyes cut back to dj’s.

“better get going, don’t wanna worry your dear mama, now do we?”

your tone is smooth, but the bitterness seeps through the cracks.

dj’s mouth presses into a thin line. “yeah, well, at least i have one. last time i checked, where’s yours?”

the words land heavy, sharper than they should be, and even dj looks like she wants to snatch them back.

your head jerks slightly, like the hit lands somewhere deep. for a second—just a second—your smirk falters, the cocky edge dulling into something raw. something open.

“what the fuck, dj?” billie’s voice cuts in, sharp with disbelief.

you lift a hand, almost like you’re about to touch dj’s chest, but it never lands. instead, your fingers curl into a loose fist before falling back to your side.

your voice is quiet now, nothing like before. “that’s enough. go home.”

but dj doesn’t move. doesn’t back down. instead, she steps in again, breath coming out a little harder. “not such a hard-ass now, are you? you—”

“enough.”

this time, your voice is quiet, but firm, final. your index and middle fingers press into her chest just enough to make space, to remind her where the line is.

“dallas, go home. both of you.”

dj exhales sharply, then steps back, her jaw tight. she doesn’t say another word, just shakes her head slightly before turning toward the house.

billie hesitates, eyes flicking back to you, like she wants to say something. like she’s still trying to figure out exactly what just happened.

but you don’t look at her. don’t acknowledge the weight of her stare. you just turn back to your horse, the whole thing slipping off your shoulders like it never happened.

except, it did.

the air is thick as billie follows dj toward the house, silence stretching between them. the only sound is the crunch of gravel beneath their boots, the hum of cicadas in the distance.

billie’s mind is still turning over the moment, replaying it, pulling it apart.

but the thought that lingers the longest, the one that sticks to her ribs—

what the fuck just happened?

the screen door creaks as dj reaches for the knob, shoving it open and disappearing down the hall. a door shuts with a muted slam—not loud enough to be defiant, but enough to make a point. billie watches her go, jaw tight, before exhaling through her nose. the weight in the air lingers even after she’s gone.

her eyes roam the house, scanning over the framed photos lining the walls, the worn wooden floors, the little marks of life scattered throughout the space. it’s been years since she was last here, yet everything still feels the same—like time doesn’t move the way it should in this house.

she slides her foot behind the other, toe hooking at her heel, before slipping off her shoes and setting them neatly by the door. the air is thick with the smell of something rich and homey simmering on the stove, a scent that settles deep in her chest, stirring something old and familiar.

outside, the sun sinks behind the georgia horizon, spilling liquid gold through the blinds, slicing the walls into slats of light and shadow. the sky is a mess of tangerine and violet, the last gasps of daylight stretching thin. the colors shift slowly, bleeding into one another, swallowing the land in a slow-burning glow.

the house hums with quiet movement. the soft clatter of a knife hitting the cutting board, the steady boil of water, the shuffle of feet against the floor. billie follows the sounds to the kitchen, fingers grazing the edges of picture frames as she passes, tracing over time itself. she pauses at one photo—her younger self, nine years old, hair a wild mess, chocolate smeared at the corners of her mouth. dj sits beside her, equally messy, their grins so wide they look like they ache. finneas stands behind them, hands resting on their shoulders, caught mid-laugh.

billie remembers that day. the summer of 2010. her parents had dragged her across the country for a family reunion, her first real introduction to this side of her roots. back when dj was just dj—back before things got messy.

she lets out a slow breath and moves on, fingers trailing along the faded growth chart scratched into the wall, numbers marking years of childhood in different colors of ink. her name is there too, though fainter, proof that she once belonged to this house, if only for a moment.

in the kitchen, may stands at the counter, slicing potatoes with practiced ease. she glances up briefly, eyes flicking over billie before turning back to her work.

“hey, do you mind cleanin’ up and helping me with dinner?” may asks, her voice light but expectant. “the twins are outside with travis, and dj’s, well… you know.”

billie nods, stepping forward to wash her hands. the warm water runs over her fingers, grounding her. she rolls up her sleeves, reaches for a potato, and makes the first incision, peeling the skin back in smooth ribbons. they fall into an easy rhythm—billie peeling, may chopping, the quiet stretching comfortably between them.

for a while, it’s just the sound of the knife against the board, the bubbling pot on the stove, the distant laughter of kids outside. then may breaks the silence.

“you know,” she starts, voice softer now, “it wasn’t always like that between them.”

billie stills, knife pausing mid-peel. she glances at her aunt, waiting.

“they been best friends since the beginning of time,” may continues, shaking her head slightly. “and they were together for a while. two years, almost.”

billie blinks. the words settle heavy in her chest. she knew there was history, but not like that.

may sighs, setting down the knife. she moves to the stove, sliding the potatoes into the pot before grabbing a bowl covered with a damp towel. she pushes it toward billie and retrieves a stick of butter from the fridge.

billie pulls back the towel, fingertips grazing the soft, risen dough. she watches as may butters a pan, waiting for her to continue.

“but things change,” may says simply. “people change. and their relationship went sour.” she kneads the dough with steady hands, her movements slow and deliberate. “one night, they had a big fight. a bad one. don’t nobody know what it was about, ’cause dj won’t talk and that girl sure as hell ain’t sayin’ a word.”

billie rolls the dough between her palms, watching how it folds over itself, how it yields to pressure but never loses its form.

“and i think that was her last straw,” may murmurs. “’cause ever since then, she done cut everybody off. comes and goes as she pleases, don’t ever talk to nobody unless she has to. she lives right next door, and i ain’t seen her step foot in this house in god knows how long.”

may shakes her head, rolling the dough a little rougher now. “so now i gotta make excuses. like this,” she gestures to the half-made dinner between them, “just to go see her.”

a silence settles between them, thick with something unspoken. billie turns may’s words over in her mind.

she hesitates, then asks, “so… do you think it’s true? you know, the killing stuff.”

may’s hands still, her sharp hazel eyes cutting over to billie. there’s something dark in her expression, something fiercely protective.

“hell no,” she says, voice low, firm. “uh-uh. no way. those rumors? started by a bunch of no-good folks who like to prey on somebody’s grief. they don’t know shit. they just like to talk, to stir up trouble.” she picks up the butter knife again, presses it against the dough with more force than necessary. “one day, they gon’ get what’s comin’ to ’em if they don’t shut the hell up with all that bullshit.”

billie swallows, nodding. her aunt’s words settle deep in her bones, but they don’t quite shake the feeling in her gut.

they work in silence after that, finishing up dinner as the sun outside finally disappears, leaving only the hum of cicadas and the distant rumble of an oncoming storm.

billie’s mind drifts back to you.

there’s something about you, but she still doesn’t know what.

the following days move in slow, hazy waves, each one bleeding into the next. billie spends most of her time trailing behind her uncle, helping around the ranch, or dodging dj’s moods. the tension from that night still clings to the air, stretching thin between them, unspoken but heavy.

but the one thing she notices—no matter where she is, no matter what she’s doing—is you.

you’re never in the same place for long. she catches glimpses of you moving through town, slipping into stores and out of sight before anyone can stop you. sometimes, she spots your truck kicking up dust down the dirt roads, music thumping faintly through the open windows. other times, she just hears your name in passing, hushed voices weaving together pieces of a story she still can’t make sense of.

and yet, despite all of that, you never come around. not to dj’s place, not to may’s kitchen, not even when the sun sinks low and the porch lights flicker on like an unspoken invitation.

the house is quiet when billie wakes, the kind of quiet that settles thick in the early hours of the morning. the sky outside is a deep shade of blue, the horizon barely kissed by the first traces of sunlight. she doesn’t know why she’s up—maybe the restless heat of summer, maybe just habit—but she swings her legs out of bed anyway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she heads downstairs.

the kitchen is dim, only a sliver of light cutting through the blinds. she grabs a glass from the counter, filling it with water from the sink, but just as she lifts it to her lips, movement outside catches her eye.

you.

you’re by the stables, moving with that same quiet, effortless ease she’s seen a handful of times before. the saddle rests in the crook of your arm, your other hand brushing over your horse’s side in a way that looks almost second nature, like you belong here, like the land and the creatures on it are an extension of yourself.

billie sets her glass down, her breath catching for just a second, like her body had been holding onto something it didn’t realize it had let go of. she can’t stop herself, and before she knows it, she’s pulling her clothes on and slipping outside, the cool morning air curling around her, brushing against her skin, mingling with the dust of the earth beneath her feet. each step toward the stables is light, calculated, like she’s stepping through a dream she doesn’t want to wake up from. but you don’t seem surprised when you glance up.

“what are you doin’?” billie asks, her voice still thick with sleep, raspy and half-formed.

you adjust the straps on your saddle, barely sparing her a glance. “what’s it look like?”

billie runs a hand through her hair, glancing at the familiar sway of your movements, the way you handle your horse with such ease. “do you always ride this early?”

“depends.”

“on what?”

finally, you look at her—really look at her, like you’re trying to read her all over again, your gaze lingering a moment too long before it moves past her, steady and unflinching.

“depends on whether or not i feel like answering questions at this hour.”

billie leans against the stable door, crossing her arms. “you always this grumpy?”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head but not offering a full smile. “do you always ask this many questions this early?”

billie tilts her head, a mischievous smile creeping onto her face. “maybe.” she watches you for a moment before she adds, with a teasing spark, “let me come with you.”

your brows lift just a fraction, an unreadable expression passing over your face. “why?”

billie shrugs, her fingers brushing against the rough wood of the stable. “why not? we could play twenty-one questions or something.”

you study her, your eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing her words, but the corners of your mouth twitch up into something of a smile.

“just how old are you?” you ask, half-smirking, like you’re daring her to keep this up.

“i’m twenty-three, you?” she retorts, a smug, challenging smile tugging at her lips as she expertly deflects the subtle jab.

there’s a beat of silence, and then, just as quickly, a small smirk pulls at the corner of your lips.

“alright,” you say, swinging yourself up onto the saddle with a practiced, fluid motion, as though you were born to move like this. “you can tag along, if you can keep up that is.”

billie doesn’t hesitate. she moves quickly, heading toward the nearest stall. she grabs the reins of her uncle’s horse, her fingers brushing over the worn leather, feeling the familiar tension in the saddle as she swings herself up with an ease that surprises even her. the muscle memory kicks in almost immediately, grounding her as her feet settle into the stirrups. you’re already moving, not waiting for her to catch up.

billie clicks her tongue, urging her horse forward as she takes off after you, the cool morning air rushing against her skin. the golden glow of the sunrise stretches across the open fields, the colors turning the horizon into an abstract painting—reds, purples, and soft oranges blending into one another. she focuses, forcing herself to concentrate on the rhythm of the ride, on the sound of hooves pounding the earth beneath her, the echo of your horse’s gallop ahead of her.

the silence stretches between you both for a while, just the sound of hooves against dirt and the steady rhythm of your horses moving in sync. but eventually, billie breaks the silence.

“so what, you just ride out here by yourself all the time?”

you keep your eyes ahead, barely glancing at her. “sometimes.”

“ever bring anyone else?”

you shoot her a look, sharp but playful, a glimmer of amusement flashing in your eyes. “you’re askin’ a lot of questions again.”

billie grins, leaning forward slightly, her body shifting with the rhythm of the horse beneath her. “that’s the point. just trying to get to know you.”

your lips twitch like you’re fighting back a smirk, but you remain silent, your eyes trained on the horizon. instead, you give your horse a quick nudge, urging him to pick up speed.

billie huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “oh, it’s like that, huh?”

you glance back over your shoulder, your expression half-masked by the wind whipping around you, but the amusement is unmistakable. “c’mon, i told you to keep up.”

and then, just like that, you’re gone. the sound of hooves grows distant, leaving billie to scramble, to push herself harder, faster, as the wind roars in her ears and the open field stretches wide before her. she’s not letting you win, not when it feels like she’s finally found a challenge worth chasing.

with a sharp exhale, she digs her heels into the sides of her horse, urging it faster. her heart beats in time with the gallop, her breath steady as she closes the distance between you. she catches sight of your silhouette again, outlined in the early morning light, and for a second, she swears she sees a flash of something—joy, maybe? or something deeper. but before she can catch her breath or dwell on it too long, she pushes herself harder, the space between you shrinking with every stride.

soon, she’s even with you. just enough to catch the smirk playing at your lips, the subtle shift in your posture that betrays the challenge you’ve put out there.

“not bad,” you call, voice carried by the wind.

billie exhales a sharp laugh, her grin widening. “what, you thought i couldn’t ride?”

“never said that.”

“yeah, but you were thinkin’ it.”

you just hum, your gaze flicking ahead again as you steer your horse toward a small clearing in the distance. the sun is rising higher now, and the light seems to stretch out across the land, casting everything in a soft, golden glow. the air smells faintly of wildflowers and earth, the scent of morning fresh in every breath.

you lead the way into a hidden meadow, one billie hadn’t seen before, nestled between trees whose branches weave together above, casting dappled shadows over the ground. the grasses sway gently in the breeze, and the air is thick with the scent of green life, of something untouched.

you dismount with ease, guiding your horse toward a stream that trickles softly through the meadow. the water glistens in the light, reflecting the vivid colors of the earth and sky. billie follows suit, her legs stiff as she slides off her horse with a soft grunt, feeling the weight of the ride in her muscles.

the quiet of the meadow wraps around them like a blanket. billie stands beside you, her gaze drifting over the peaceful scene before her eyes fall on you again. you’re crouched by your horse, fingers working carefully through its mane, each movement deliberate, practiced.

billie sits down beside you, the cool grass soft against her legs. for a moment, neither of you speaks. the quiet stretches, filling the space between you, and despite the tension of the last few days, it feels like a rare kind of peace.

��jesus,” billie mutters after a while, breaking the silence. “i think my ass is permanently bruised.”

you snort, a dry laugh escaping you as you continue working with the horse’s mane. “yeah, well, ridin’ ain’t for the weak.”

you snort, settling onto the grass as you untie a loose braid in your horse’s mane. “yeah, well, ridin’ ain’t for the weak.”

billie doesn’t say anything at first, just takes a seat next to you, mirroring your posture. the silence between you both is calm, stretching, like the stillness of the earth at dusk, with only the rustling of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets filling the space.

she grumbles, rubbing her thigh before dropping down beside you. she leans back on her palms, exhaling slowly, as her eyes trace the fading light across the fields. “damn. this place is real pretty.”

“mhm,” you hum, eyes following the way the breeze moves through the trees, making the leaves shiver and whisper. you can almost hear the land breathe with you, like it’s been waiting for this moment to fall into a quiet that feels too rare.

billie tilts her head toward you, studying your face. there’s a certain way she looks at you—like she’s trying to understand something that might not be easy to explain. “you come out here often?”

“when i can,” you say, fingers still working through your horse’s mane. your hand moves with practiced ease, the bond between you and storm unspoken but undeniable. “it’s quiet. no one botherin’ me. just me and my horse.”

billie nods slowly, letting the silence stretch, letting it settle comfortably between you for a beat. then, with a small smirk, she nudges your arm, playful but thoughtful. “are you sure you’re not just avoiding people?”

you huff out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “there’s nothin’ wrong with wanting some peace and quiet.”

“yeah, but i don’t know,” billie says, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “feels like there’s more to it.”

you don’t say anything at first, just let her words sit in the space between you both, heavy like the air before a storm. your eyes drift over the land, taking in the scenery, the blanket of quiet that’s settled over everything. there’s a sort of ache in the stillness, but it’s familiar, comforting in its own way.

but billie, ever curious, finally breaks the silence.

“your farm,” she starts, her voice light but edged with something thoughtful. “it’s empty compared to the others around here.”

you don’t move for a long moment, eyes fixed on the flowing water. the question doesn’t surprise you—it’s the kind of thing people always ask, but hearing it from billie feels different. her words settle, a quiet weight on your chest.

“yeah,” you murmur, picking at a blade of grass between your fingers. “that’s ‘cause we had to sell most of it. my dad—” you pause, exhaling slowly, trying to push the words out without letting them get tangled in your throat. “he was a musician. not exactly the most stable job when you’re trying to keep a farm running. and my mom… she was in the rodeo. damn good at it too.”

billie leans in slightly, listening intently, her focus unwavering.

“she kept everything together,” you continue, your voice steady but distant, as if the memory is both close and miles away. “but when she passed, it all started falling apart. bills piled up, and daddy… well, he tried, y’know? did everything he could. but eventually, he had to start selling off the land, the animals, anything we didn’t absolutely need.”

your fingers brush against storm, his dark coat soft beneath your touch, grounding you in the present. you focus on the sensation, trying to keep it from spiraling back into that place you don’t like to go.

“now, it’s just me and what little we’ve got left.” you look at storm again, a quiet ache in your chest as you find comfort in his presence.

billie doesn’t speak right away. she watches you, taking in the way your posture has shifted, the way your voice has softened. the usual sharpness in your tone is dulled now, replaced by something heavier, something more fragile, like a quiet thread that could snap if you tugged on it too hard.

“that’s a lot,” she says after a moment, her voice quieter than usual, as though she’s treading carefully around your pain.

you nod once, sliding your hands off your coat and letting them curl into the blades of grass beneath you. you feel the earth there, steady, unmoving. maybe you wish you could be like that sometimes.

“yeah.”

the meadow falls silent again, but this time, it’s different. the weight of your words lingers, but it’s not uncomfortable. billie doesn’t press, doesn’t push for more than you’re willing to give. she just sits there, her presence steady next to you, breathing in the same air, sharing the same space, the same history, the same grief. it’s enough for now.

after a while, she breaks the silence with something lighter, like a pebble thrown into the still water.

“so, what you’re saying is… you could’ve been a rodeo star?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes with a playful glance at her. “hold on now—i ain’t say all that.”

“nah, i bet you were real good,” she teases, grinning, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “i can see it now. you riding in all dramatic, wavin’ to the crowd, all eyes on you.”

you shake your head, but the corner of your mouth betrays you with the smallest hint of a smile. “you talk too much.”

“part of my charm,” she says easily, her grin widening.

you huff out a breath, pushing yourself up. “c’mon, we should head back.”

billie groans dramatically, throwing her head back in exaggerated defeat. “damn. was kind of hoping to stay out here just a little while longer.”

“nope,” you say, clicking your tongue to get your horse’s attention. the sound breaks the silence like a familiar rhythm. “sun’s up, and i know mr. travis has probably got some work for you to do.”

billie sighs, shoulders slumping like the weight of the world is on them, but she stands anyway, dusting off her jeans before climbing back onto her horse.

the ride back to the ranch is slow, the sun now fully risen, casting golden light over the open fields. the air is warm, thick with the scent of sun-warmed grass and damp earth. billie rides a little closer this time, your horses moving in rhythm, the soft thud of hooves in sync with the quiet, steady pulse of the morning. she glances at you every so often, like she’s got something on her mind, the corners of her lips tugging in subtle hesitation.

“so, uh,” she starts, adjusting her reins, eyes flickering to the horizon. “random question, but how do you feel about—like, i don’t know—eating plants?”

you cut her a sideways glance, brow furrowing in confusion. “eating plants?”

“yeah, like—” billie presses her lips together, her words hesitant, “i mean, i’m vegan.”

you pull on your reins slightly, slowing your horse just to give yourself a second to process. “you’re what?”

“vegan,” she repeats, dragging the word out like she’s bracing for impact, her gaze shifting away, taking in the sprawling landscape.

you blink. then blink again. “you’re tellin’ me you came all the way out here, ridin’ horses, stayin’ on a farm, and you don’t even eat meat?”

billie shrugs, a small, almost defiant gesture. “technically, it’s not really a farm anymore.”

you shake your head, a soft chuckle slipping from you, amusement tugging at the corner of your mouth. “that’s wild.”

“not really,” she says, grinning, her voice a little lighter now. “i just don’t see the point in eatin’ something with a face.”

“couldn’t be me,” you mutter, shaking your head with a smile that feels warmer than you expect.

billie laughs, a low, genuine sound that carries in the still morning air. she doesn’t push the topic further. instead, she shifts in her saddle, rolling her shoulders before speaking again, her tone lighter now, like the tension has eased just a little.

“so,” she starts, her words casual, like she’s asking about the weather. “my cousins told me there’s this little town event tonight. are you going?”

you adjust your grip on the reins, eyes fixed on the dirt path ahead, your horse’s hooves kicking up a trail of dust in the warm breeze. “maybe.”

“maybe?” billie echoes, tilting her head toward you, the question lingering between you, playful yet genuine. “that’s not a yes.”

you shrug, eyes narrowing slightly as you continue to lead your horse down the familiar stretch of road. “ain’t a no, either.”

billie hums thoughtfully, considering your words. the rhythmic clopping of hooves fills the space between you, soft and steady. the town event was just another yearly gathering—music, food, and an excuse for folks to catch up. you’d been to plenty before, but with everything on your plate, it hadn’t exactly been a priority this time. still, the thought of it lingers in the back of your mind, shifting like the breeze that ruffles your hair.

“why you ask?” you glance over at billie, curiosity creeping into your tone.

she shrugs, but there’s a glint of something in her eyes now, something playful, something sly. “can’t blame me for wantin’ to see a pretty face in town, now can you?”

you pause mid-step, your horse shifting beneath you, the sudden shift in the air catching you off guard. you turn to look at her, her gaze steady, a playful smirk on her lips.

you huff, shaking your head. “are you always this bold?”

billie smirks, nudging her horse forward as the ranch comes into view. “why? is it workin’?”

you roll your eyes, but a small smile betrays you, tugging at the corners of your mouth, the warmth creeping up your neck. something about her makes it hard to stay completely composed. the two of you ride in silence for the last stretch, the ranch growing larger as you approach, the familiar smells of hay and dust filling the air.

by the time you reach the ranch, the sun is higher in the sky, bathing everything in golden light, casting long shadows that stretch across the land. your horse slows to a stop near the fence, and you swing off with practiced ease. billie follows, though she takes a second longer, muttering something about her legs not working right after the long ride.

she lingers for a moment, rocking back and forth on the heels of her boots, a smirk still playing at her lips. then, with a casual tilt of her head, she looks at you. “so, tonight… you comin’ or what?”

you look at her, considering. the words hover on your lips, but for a moment, you just let the silence stretch between you, the sun at your back, the ranch before you. “i’ll think about it.”

billie grins like she already knows what your answer will be, her eyes sparkling with something mischievous. “i’ll see you there, then.”

and with that, she gives you one last lingering look, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you before she turns on her heel, heading back toward the house. you stand there for a moment, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin, a weird flutter in your chest, like the space between the two of you hasn’t quite closed yet.

you didn’t say yes.

but you sure as hell didn’t say no.

the rest of the afternoon billie spends helping her uncle with some work around the farm, though her mind keeps drifting back to your conversation. maybe. that’s all you gave her. no promise, no certainty—just maybe. and yet, it lingers in her thoughts, like an unfinished sentence hanging in the air. the farm feels quieter than usual, the distant hum of work beneath the weight of her uncertainty.

by the time the sun dips below the horizon, stretching shades of orange and purple across the sky, billie finds herself getting ready back at her uncle’s house. she pulls on a clean shirt, the fabric soft against her skin. she rolls up the sleeves just enough to keep cool, her movements deliberate, like she’s trying to prepare for something she’s not entirely sure of. she runs a hand through her hair in the small mirror by the door, the reflection staring back at her with an edge of doubt.

her aunt, may, passes by and raises an eyebrow. “you sure are fixin’ yourself up just to go to a town event.”

billie scoffs, shaking her head, but her voice softens a little, a flicker of defensiveness hidden under the surface. “there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look decent.”

may hums knowingly, the corners of her lips turning up in a knowing smile, but she doesn’t press. instead, she tosses billie a light jacket before nodding toward the front of the house. “dj’s out waitin’ on you. y’all don’t get into too much trouble, ya hear?”

“me? trouble?” billie grins as she shrugs on the jacket, the weight of her aunt’s words lingering longer than she expects. “never.”

may chuckles, shaking her head, and billie steps out onto the porch, the cool evening air brushing against her skin.

dj is already leaning against the fence, arms crossed, a bored expression on her face, as if she’s been waiting for ages. “took you long enough,” she mutters, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “you tryin’ to impress somebody or somethin’?”

billie rolls her eyes, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the motion automatic, like a shield she’s used to. “let’s just go.”

they set off down the dirt road, the warm night air wrapping around them like a soft blanket. the path into town is well-worn, the grass flattened from years of footsteps, an imprint of countless journeys. crickets hum in the distance, their song like a steady pulse in the background, and the occasional firefly flickers in and out of sight, like tiny stars caught in the evening breeze. it’s a short walk, barely fifteen minutes, but it gives billie time to get lost in her own thoughts.

dj notices.

“you’re thinkin’ ‘bout her, aren’t you?”

billie doesn’t answer right away, just kicks at a loose rock on the path, her boots sending it skidding off into the darkness. “you always gotta run your mouth?”

dj laughs, a low, amused sound that cuts through the quiet. “when i’m right? yeah.”

billie exhales sharply, shaking her head, the air leaving her lungs in a huff. “she said maybe.”

“and you’re holdin’ onto it like it’s a damn promise.” dj shoots her a knowing look, her voice steady, almost too knowing for comfort. “look, i know her better than you do. and if she said maybe, it means no.”

billie doesn’t argue, but she also doesn’t agree. the words hang between them, but there’s something she’s not ready to let go of. instead, she just keeps walking, her thoughts swallowed by the rhythm of her footsteps, the sound of her boots against the dirt path. the tavern’s glow finally comes into view up ahead, warm and inviting, a sharp contrast to the coolness of the night air. it flickers like a promise, even though she knows better than to expect one.

the closer they get, the louder the night becomes—music drifting through the air, the steady hum of voices rising and falling like a pulse. billie can already see the crowd through the open doorway, bodies swaying on the dance floor, others gathered near the bar, laughter spilling into the warm evening air like a melody of its own.

as they step inside, the scent of whiskey and something fried clings to the air, filling her lungs with a sharp, familiar bite. billie takes it all in—the packed dance floor, the row of worn wooden stools lined up against the bar, the occasional clatter of pool balls from the back of the room. the atmosphere is thick, buzzing with energy, but billie’s mind is elsewhere, pulled in a direction she can’t quite shake.

she barely hesitates before scanning the crowd, her gaze flickering across the sea of faces, as though she’s searching for something—or someone.

dj notices that, too.

“she’s not comin’,” dj says, her voice cutting through billie’s quiet search. “i suggest you don’t get your hopes up.”

billie smirks, slipping her hands into her pockets as she leans against the bar. “or maybe,” she muses, tilting her head, “she is.”

dj exhales sharply, shaking her head as she orders a drink, her voice tinged with disbelief. “you’re impossible.”

billie doesn’t respond, just taps her fingers rhythmically against the counter, her gaze flickering back toward the door every so often, like the rhythm of the night is tied to the beat of her waiting.

and then—

the door swings open. and there you are.

standing just inside the threshold, framed by the dim, amber glow of the tavern lights. the room seems to shift around you, as though the space itself is adjusting to your presence. you scan the crowd, your expression unreadable, the quiet control you exude almost tangible.

dj notices first. she huffs out a quiet laugh. “well, i’ll be damned.”

billie grins, pushing off the bar slightly, her posture shifting as if she knew it all along. “told you. maybe ain’t a no.”

you’re dressed head-to-toe in all black. your long-sleeve shirt is tucked neatly into your jeans, the edges of your collar sharp against your throat, and a black belt cinches your waist, defining your silhouette. a cowboy hat sits low on your brow, casting a shadow over your sharp, unreadable expression. your chaps, draped over black denim, hug your legs in all the right places, the subtle swish of the fabric whispering as you move. the faint golden gleam of your belt buckle catches the light, but it’s the deep, sultry burgundy lipstick that steals the show, bold against the subtle darkness of your outfit.

billie swallows hard, her mouth suddenly dry, her breath caught on the edge of something unspoken.

the tavern shifts as you step inside, the energy crackling like a storm rolling in. people pause mid-conversation, eyes dragging over you, the hushed whispers slicing through the noise. it’s not just your presence—it’s the way you carry yourself, the effortless confidence, the unbothered aura that makes them stop, even for just a moment. you don’t need to try; they can’t help but look.

your eyes scan over the room until they land on billie, and when they do, your lips curl into the smallest, knowing smile—subtle, but impossible to miss.

billie, still leaning against the bar, watches you with something close to amusement, but there’s something else there, too—a hunger, a quiet longing that she doesn’t bother to hide.

you make your way over, your boots clicking against the wooden floor, each step cutting through the tension in the air, your presence undeniable. but as you draw closer, you feel another pair of eyes on you, heavy and knowing. your gaze flits over to your left, and there she is—dj, already looking at you, her gaze sharp as steel. the tension between you and her is thick, palpable, and it almost seems to snuff out your smile, just like that—flickering out like a candle’s flame in the wind.

you don’t stop walking, but there’s something stiff now in your posture, a tension that settles in your shoulders, your gaze hardening as it locks with hers.

“dj,” you greet, your voice even, but missing the warmth it had just moments ago, the friendliness gone, replaced by something cooler, more guarded.

dj dips her head in acknowledgment, shifting her weight slightly, her eyes flicking to billie and then back to you. “what’s up?” she says before taking her glass and knocking back her drink in one smooth motion.

there’s a beat of silence, thick and uncomfortable. then dj clears her throat, glancing toward the back of the tavern, the movement casual but deliberate. “i’m gonna go talk to amari.”

you just nod, your chin tilting in the slightest acknowledgment, though you know her announcement was meant for billie and not you. you don’t stop her, and neither does billie.

the air between you and billie is still, charged but unspoken, as dj walks off into the crowd, leaving both of you standing in the flickering light, surrounded by the hum of the tavern’s life.

once she’s gone, you and billie exchange a glance, one that carries the weight of unspoken understanding. the tension that hung in the air moments ago lingers, but it’s quickly brushed aside, buried beneath something lighter.

billie’s lips curl up, playful and easy. “you look nice.”

you tilt your head, smirking, a flicker of something in your eyes. “just nice?” you ask, your voice low, teasing. you do a slow, deliberate spin, letting the fabric of your clothes ripple as your hips sway with the motion, letting the room drink in your confidence. “you like it?”

billie exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “yeah. you look real pretty,” her gaze drags over you, warm and appreciative, and she leans in slightly, her eyes lingering as she adds, “but i guess that’d be an understatement.”

“damn right it would.”

billie chuckles, tilting her head, a small smile curling on her lips. “you fishin’ for compliments?”

“if i was, would you give ‘em to me?”

billie doesn’t miss a beat, her response immediate, sure. “yeah.”

your smirk deepens, satisfaction humming through you. “figured. you don’t look too bad yourself.” your eyes trace the outline of her outfit, noticing the easy confidence she wears like a second skin. her blue plaid flannel looks soft, faded from time, its edges curling slightly at the sleeves, the worn fabric complimented by a white tank peeking through, the silver chain resting just above it, catching the low light.

the shift in the air between you both is palpable, a playful current that sparks and hums with unspoken words. you slide into the seat next to her, claiming the space once occupied by her cousin. your elbow rests on the worn wood of the bar, fingers drumming a slow, absent rhythm, as if the movement is just another part of the atmosphere now.

the bartender slides a basket of potato wedges across the counter, a quiet gesture that speaks volumes about the casual comfort of the place. he asks if you want anything to drink, and you don’t hesitate.

“sweet tea,” you say with a slight smile, watching him disappear behind the bar, the cool clink of ice filling the silence.

billie looks at you, curiosity in her gaze. “you don’t drink?”

“nah, that shit’s disgusting,” you reply, your nose scrunching up at the thought of anything stronger than tea. the word lingers between you, casual yet definitive.

billie watches you, her amusement flickering in her eyes. “so, no alcohol at all?”

“not my thing,” you mutter, sipping your drink once it arrives, the amber liquid cool against your lips, the black straw making soft sounds as it shifts in the glass. you swirl the ice, and the clink rings in the silence.

“what about special occasions?” billie presses, leaning in slightly, her eyes narrowing with playful intrigue.

you shake your head with a slow, deliberate motion. “nope.”

billie hums thoughtfully, tilting her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “so if i showed up at your birthday with a nice bottle, you wouldn’t take a sip?”

you raise a brow, the challenge clear in your eyes. “you plannin’ on showin’ up to my birthday?”

“maybe,” billie says, her grin widening, knowing the game she’s playing.

you huff a laugh, swirling the straw in your glass. “i’d take the bottle. give it to someone else, though.”

billie laughs at that, a warm, easy sound that fills the space between you. she grabs a potato wedge, dragging it through a small cup of ranch before popping it in her mouth. “so what do you like?”

“besides sweet tea?”

“yeah.”

you tap your fingers against the table, pretending to think. “long rides, warm nights, good music.”

billie’s lips curl into a smirk. “you sound like a country song.”

“and you sound like you don’t know what good music is.”

billie gasps, hand dramatically pressed to her heart. “wow. you wound me.”

“you’ll live.”

before billie can come up with a retort, the speakers crackle, and then the smooth, rich tones of a blues song fill the room. the bass hums, slow and steady, and the vocals pull at something deep within you, a familiar ache.

billie’s face lights up, her eyes shining with recognition. “oh, hell, i love this song.”

you pause, letting the sound wash over you. something flickers in your chest, a memory rising unbidden, soft but sure. “really?” you murmur, almost to yourself. “my daddy used to play this all the time when i was younger.”

billie leans in, drawn in by the quiet depth in your words. “yeah?”

you nod, your fingers lightly tapping the rim of your glass. “on this smooth black bass guitar. i used to sit by his feet, just listenin’ while he played. never got tired of it.”

billie smiles at you, her gaze warm, unguarded. “what’s your favorite part?”

you hum softly, considering. “probably the way the bass carries the whole thing. i mean, it’s just so damn sexy. you take that out, and the song wouldn’t hit the same.”

billie nods in agreement, her expression thoughtful. “yeah, you’re right. that deep groove just makes it.”

“exactly.”

you both fall into easy conversation, dissecting the song, the way it moves beneath the surface. it’s effortless, like finding a rhythm in the chaos, like something that’s always been there, waiting to be heard.

and then, just like that—

“you’re cute when you’re like this.”

the words are soft, easy, but they hit you with the force of a slow burn.

you blink, caught off guard. “huh?”

billie leans in, elbows on the table, chin resting in her hand as she regards you with an easy smile. “when you’re all into something. i dunno. it’s cute.”

your mouth opens slightly, but before you can even find your voice, your gaze flickers past billie’s shoulder.

dj.

she’s staring.

the easy warmth between you and billie evaporates, replaced by something colder, something sharper. the air shifts, and you find yourself straightening, your posture stiffening, your smile faltering. you clear your throat, the moment slipping through your fingers.

“uh—i’ll be right back,” you mutter, already standing.

billie watches you go, curiosity lingering in her gaze. but she doesn’t stop you.

you slip through the crowd, the steady beat of the music vibrating through the floor beneath you, boots heavy against the worn wood, the sound almost swallowed by the chatter and clinking glasses. the air smells of sweat, spilled liquor, and something faintly sweet, an odd cocktail of scents that make your skin feel sticky, like the night is wrapping itself around you.

dj is already moving before you even reach the hallway, her presence a shadow in the dim light. she falls into step behind you, her pace matching yours as you push through the bathroom door, the sound of it creaking on its hinges before slamming shut behind you.

you lean over the sink, the cool porcelain beneath your fingertips grounding you, the dim lighting casting a soft, golden hue across your reflection. the deep burgundy on your lips is striking, bold—a statement you didn’t even mean to make. but now, under the harsh light, it feels too loud, too much, like you’re wearing someone else’s face. something about it doesn’t sit right.

you grab a paper towel, wet it, and press it to your lips, gently wiping away the color, the faint scent of soap mingling with the metallic tang of the bathroom air. a quiet sigh escapes you as you take your time, removing the boldness until only a faint stain remains, something softer, quieter. reaching into your pocket, you pull out a sleek black tube, twisting it open, the motion smooth and practiced, like you’ve done this a thousand times. the new shade is just a tad bit lighter than the one you had on moments before, the deeper shade now tucked away in its golden case in your other pocket. you apply it with a practiced ease, rubbing your lips together, you flick your gaze back up to the mirror.

the door swings open with a crash, slamming against the wall, and you freeze, eyes narrowing before you turn.

dj.

she moves fast, crossing the bathroom in only a few steps, the space between you both closing like a predator closing in on prey.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demands, her voice sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

you frown, tucking the lipstick back into your pocket and folding your arms across your chest. “excuse me?”

“you know exactly what i’m talking about,” dj hisses, her eyes flashing with something between anger and fear. she crosses her arms tightly, like she’s trying to keep herself together. “you need to stay away from billie.”

your confusion twists into irritation, the edges of it sharp, dangerous. “what? why the hell would i do that?”

“because,” dj says sharply, her voice low and dangerous, “you’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.”

you scoff, leaning back against the sink, the cold touch of it pressing into your back. “look, i don’t know what your damn problem is, but i’m not bothering you. so how about you return the favor?”

“you’re not bothering me?” dj laughs, but it’s hollow, empty, and you know the words aren’t meant to be funny. “you’re out there, batting your lashes at billie like you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. what you’ve been doing.”

you narrow your eyes, taking a small step forward, your pulse quickening, the heat rising in your chest. “and what exactly do you think i’m doing?”

dj steps closer, her shoes scraping against the floor as she closes the distance. “don’t play dumb.”

you hold her gaze, unwavering. “i’m not playin’ anything. i’m minding my business. just like you should be doing.”

dj’s jaw tightens, her whole body coiled like a spring, ready to snap. “billie isn’t some random girl you can mess around with. she’s not—” she stops herself, exhaling sharply, biting back something heavy, something that’s been weighing on her for too long. “you just need to back off.”

your patience wears thin, the tension in the room curling around you like smoke.

“oh, back off?” your voice drops, low and sharp, every word a knife. you push off the sink, your fingers curling into fists by your sides. “and what exactly gives you the right to tell me what to do? last time i checked, i make my own damn choices.”

“and you’re making a mistake,” dj snaps, her voice tight with something she can’t hide.

“you don’t know shit about what you’re talking about.” you snap back, the words bitter and cold.

dj shakes her head, her eyes wide with frustration. “i know enough. i swear to god, if you hurt her—”

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head, exhaling through your nose. the sound is empty, but something dangerous lingers in it.

then, your voice drops to a low growl, steady and calm, “and i swear to god, dallas joelle, if you don’t back the fuck up out of my face—”

the use of her full name cuts through the air like a slap. dj freezes, her posture going rigid, her breath hitching in her chest. you watch as the words land, the shift in her body language like a brick wall slamming into place.

but you don’t wait for her to respond, turning on your heel and pushing past her, the tension still hanging thick in the air. you can feel her eyes on your back, but you don’t turn around. not now. not yet.

the bar is thick with cigarette smoke and the sticky scent of cheap whiskey, the air pulsing with music too loud for the space. you move through the crowd, heat buzzing beneath your skin, but it’s not from the alcohol or the night’s tension. it’s from the sight of billie at the bar, her posture stiff, her gaze set forward, ignoring the man leaning into her space like he belongs there.

reggie.

his breath reeks of liquor and bad decisions, his voice dripping with the kind of charm that curdles in your stomach.

“hey, sweetheart,” he drawls, grinning wide enough to flash the gold in his mouth. “you know, a girl like you shouldn’t be out here alone. i got plenty of time. could use a drink, maybe some company.”

billie doesn’t even blink. doesn’t turn her head. “i’m good.”

reggie chuckles, like this is a game and she’s just playing hard to get. “you sure? ‘cause you look like you could use some company.”

his fingers ghost too close to her arm, and you see it—the way her jaw clenches, the way her shoulders go taut beneath her leather jacket.

your stomach tightens.

billie rolls her eyes, shifts to stand, but reggie steps in her way, tilting his head, all confidence and no sense.

“c’mon now, don’t be like that,” he presses, voice syrupy. “i got plenty to offer—check this out.” he lifts his wrist, flashing a thick gold watch, letting the dim light catch on the metal.

billie doesn’t spare it a glance. “i said, i’m good.”

but reggie just grins wider, because he’s the type who never takes no for an answer.

“c’mon now, don’t be like that. you’re new ‘round here, ain’t you? you oughta let someone show you a good time.” he

billie exhales sharply through her nose, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “yeah? you know someone?”

his smile falters just a bit, but before he can respond, a voice cuts through the tension.

“reggie.”

he turns, his smug expression shifting the second he sees you. dj lingers behind you, but this isn’t her fight. it’s yours.

reggie’s lips curl into something too familiar, too easy. “well, look who it is. where’s that southern hospitality, huh?”

“you can take it and shove it up your ass,” you say, voice cool, steady.

he lets out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “damn, girl, now is that how you greet an old friend?”

“we ain’t friends.”

his grin doesn’t waver. “aw, don’t be like that. used to be real sweet to me, remember?” he tuts, shaking his head. “what happened?”

“my daddy realized you ain’t shit.”

dj shifts, ready to step in, but you’re quicker—you put your hand out to stop her, letting her know that you don’t need her.

reggie hums, rubbing his jaw like he’s considering something. “you always had a smart mouth on you. i like that.”

you don’t flinch. “leave her alone.”

he tilts his head toward billie, barely sparing you a glance. “just bein’ friendly.”

“ain’t nobody want your friendliness,” you bite out. “why don’t you go home to your wife and kids?”

his smile tightens. “my family is none of your damn business.”

you fold your arms, tilting your head. “you sure about that? ‘cause you make it my business, steady lurkin’ around bars, tryin’ to holler at women who don’t want you.”

his nostrils flare, irritation creeping into his expression, but then his eyes flick to your hip, catching the glint of your gun.

his lips part, just slightly.

he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “now what’s a pretty thing like you doin’ with a piece like that?” he tuts, his bravado inching toward something meaner. “you don’t need them kinda toys, baby. what you need is a real man to—”

your laughter cuts him off, sharp and sudden.

“real man?” you mock, glancing around like you’re looking for one. “where?”

a few men at a nearby table stifle their laughs, and reggie’s jaw flexes.

“watch your mouth,” he warns.

you take a step closer, voice dropping, steady as stone.

“get on before i use it on you.”

reggie’s nostrils flare. “ the fuck you just say to me?”

you don’t blink. “i said get. the fuck. on.” your voice is calm, steady, but there’s a razor-sharp edge to it, something unshakable.

the way you say it—the certainty, the weight behind the words—makes something flicker in his eyes. a hesitation. a calculation.

his fingers curl into fists at his sides, but after a long, simmering moment, he scoffs, clicking his tongue. “ain’t worth my damn time.”

he turns on his heel and stalks off.

you don’t bother watching him go. instead, you turn to billie.

“you good?”

billie exhales, like she’s just now remembering how to breathe. then she nods, her lips parting, something unreadable in her eyes.

and then—

“that was sexy, as hell.”

you blink, caught off guard, before raising an eyebrow. “really?”

billie laughs softly, her voice a little breathless. “yeah,” she says, eyes gleaming. “you just… told him off.”

you shrug, trying to play it off. “wasn’t much.”

billie smirks, and it’s the kind of smirk that makes your stomach do something stupid. “it was kinda impressive.”

the air shifts, the static between you lingering just a second too long.

you glance toward the door. “wanna get outta here? i need some fresh air”

billie nods, too quick, too eager, and it makes you smile. “yeah. let’s go.”

as you head for the door, billie hesitates, then glances at you.

“you want me to walk you home?”

you don’t miss the way her voice dips, just slightly.

you glance at her, amusement curling at your lips. “yeah,” you say. “i think that’d be nice.”

the walk back to your house is slow, both of you dragging your feet just a little, neither wanting the night to end too soon. the cool air hums with the distant sounds of crickets and rustling trees, the scent of the earth richer out here under the open sky.

the town has settled into its quiet, the rowdiness of the tavern now just a distant murmur. porch lights flicker lazily, moths circling the glow, casting long, restless shadows across the dirt road. overhead, the stars sprawl endlessly, silver and cold, sharp enough to cut through the darkness.

billie kicks a stray pebble, hands shoved deep into her pockets, her gaze flickering to you every now and then, unreadable. you can feel her eyes on you, the weight of them, like she’s turning something over in her mind.

“so,” she drawls, breaking the comfortable silence, “you always that quick to pull a gun on a man, or was tonight special?”

you smirk, side-eyeing her. “depends on the man.”

“right, right.” billie nods, her lips twitching around the edges of a smirk. “he deserved it, though. you put the fear of god in him.”

“good.” you stretch your arms over your head, rolling out your shoulders, the tension from earlier still humming beneath your skin. “he needs to learn when to shut the hell up.”

billie huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “you’re somethin’ else.”

“what? you ain’t ever seen a woman put a man in his place?”

“oh, i have.” billie grins, slow and knowing, tilting her head at you. “just not one that looks as good as you do doin’ it.”

you scoff, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. “real smooth, billie.”

“i try.” billie glances at you, playful, eyes gleaming under the moonlight. “it seems to be working though.”

you roll your eyes but don’t deny it.

by the time you both reach your house, the moon hangs high, silver light spilling across the porch, pooling in the spaces between the wooden planks. you stop at the steps, turning to her, your hands settling at your belt, fingers hooking loosely around the buckle.

“i really appreciate you walkin’ me home,” you say, voice softer now, like the night has finally wrapped its arms around you, settling into something quieter. “i had a good time tonight, billie. y’know before all the bullshit happened.”

billie nods, rocking back on her heels, her gaze lingering on you. “yeah. me too.”

the quiet stretches between you both, thick with something unspoken. the cicadas hum. a breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the faint scent of pine and the lingering smoke from the tavern.

billie tilts her head slightly, her lips curving into something half-smirk, half-thoughtful. “so… what now?”

you hum, tilting your head, eyes glinting under the porch light, the warmth of the evening still clinging to your skin. “i reckon you want a kiss?”

billie exhales a small laugh, the sound caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “yeah,” she admits, nodding once. “a kiss would be nice. really nice, actually.”

you just hum again, waiting.

billie steps closer, closing the space between you. her lips brush against yours, soft and brief—too brief. when she pulls back, you don’t move, just raise an unimpressed brow.

“hold on now,” you murmur, fingers curling into the loops of her jeans, tugging her back in with a slow, deliberate pull. “come and do it right. wasn’t given them pretty lips for nothin’. kiss me like you mean it.”

billie exhales another quiet laugh, but there’s something else beneath it now—something heavier, more certain. this time, when she kisses you, it’s slow, unhurried, her hands sliding to your waist, fingertips pressing into the fabric of your shirt like she’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

she kisses like she don’t want to forget. like she needs to know how you taste, how you feel under her hands, how your breath hitches just slightly when she deepens it.

when she finally pulls away, your lipstick stains her lips, a deep smudge of color against her own. you smirk, brushing your thumb across her lower lip, your touch lingering.

“well, now you’re just wearin’ my lipstick.”

billie licks her lips, smirking. “i don’t mind it.”

her hands are still on you, grip loose but firm, like she don’t wanna let go just yet. she steps forward, backing you against the door, her breath warm against your skin.

you don’t hesitate, don’t fumble. just reach behind you, unlocking the door with practiced ease, pushing it open, the wood groaning softly under your touch.

billie glances past you, taking in the inside of your house, her expression flickering with something unreadable.

“huh,” she mutters.

“what?” you ask, raising a brow.

billie shakes her head, smirking. “nothin’. just—figured you’d have somethin’ a little messier goin’ on.”

you roll your eyes, stepping back just enough to let her in. “you really thought i lived like a damn outlaw?”

“maybe.” billie grins, stepping closer, her presence filling the space between you. “you’ve got the attitude for it.”

you huff, shaking your head, but before you can say anything else, billie moves again, her hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you into another kiss—deeper this time, more sure, more wanting.

you don’t stop her. hell, you don’t even think about stopping her.

you just kiss her back, letting her press you further into the house, her hands gripping you like she’s scared you’ll disappear. and maybe she’s right to—because if she keeps kissing you like this, you just might.

you take a slow step backward, leading her toward your room, your fingers threading through the soft waves of her hair. there’s an ease in the way you move, something effortless yet deliberate, a quiet kind of confidence that has billie watching your every motion like she’s committing it to memory, like she’s afraid it might slip through her fingers if she blinks too long.

she exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “you always this smooth?”

you smirk, tilting your head just enough to make her breath catch. “you always this easy to pull in?”

billie bites her lip, her eyes flicking to your mouth for just a second too long. “for you? always.”

and you don’t waste another second.

you kiss her again, slow and deliberate, letting her feel exactly what she’s gotten herself into. it’s the kind of kiss that lingers, that pulls her under like a deep tide she has no intention of fighting. your lips move with a teasing slowness, a subtle push and pull that has her chasing after your mouth every time you threaten to pull away.

her breath stutters as your hands slip beneath her shirt, fingers tracing along the dip of her spine, feeling the way her body responds to your touch. billie exhales against your lips, the sound soft, a little unsteady.

you smirk. “somethin’ wrong?”

she shakes her head, lips parted. “just—never been kissed like this before.”

you hum, tilting your head as you trail your lips down her jaw. “like what?”

her hands tighten at your waist. “like i might not recover from it.”

your smirk deepens, your voice dropping lower. “good.”

you pull her shirt over her head, your lips never leaving her skin as you press kisses along her collarbone, down the curve of her neck, leaving faint smudges of lipstick in your wake. your fingers move to the buttons of her jeans, slow, deliberate.

billie’s breath hitches as you toy with the waistband, teasing, testing. her grip tightens against your sides, grounding herself.

“you sure?” you murmur, looking up at her beneath your lashes.

her answer comes without hesitation. “i’ve never been more sure of anything.”

your smirk lingers as you press another kiss to her lips, slow and intoxicating, before finally undoing her jeans and tugging them down. her fingers slip beneath your shirt in turn, skimming over warm skin, tracing along the edges of your ribs like she’s learning you by touch alone.

when her jeans finally hit the floor, you step back slightly, gaze dragging over her, taking in the sight of her—flushed, breathless, her pupils dark with something heady.

you lift your cowboy hat off your head and place it onto hers, tilting it just right.

“relax,” you murmur, voice thick with promise. “i got you.”

billie blinks up at you, dazed, lips slightly parted. “i think you want to kill me.” she mutters, voice thick with something dangerously close to reverence.

you grin, leaning down to brush your lips over hers, teasing. “nah,” you whisper, your breath fanning over her mouth. “just tryna make you feel real good.”

her hands slide up your back, nails scraping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “already do,” she breathes.

you hum in satisfaction before moving lower, undoing her jeans completely and letting them pool at her ankles. she lifts her hips to help you, breath catching when your nails lightly scrape down her thighs.

you sit back for a moment, just looking at her—how undone she is beneath you, your lipstick still smudged across her throat, your hat perched slightly crooked on her head.

“damn,” you mutter, shaking your head slightly. “prettiest thing i ever did see.”

billie laughs, breathless, her hands reaching for you. “please, have you seen you?”

she pulls you back in, fingers tracing down the line of your spine, undoing the buttons of your shirt, pushing the fabric from your shoulders. her touch sends heat skimming along your skin, a slow, simmering burn.

there’s a careful give and take—the slow unwrapping of each other, the soft murmurs exchanged between kisses. her hands are gentle yet eager, memorizing every inch of you as you do the same to her.

when her fingers trace over the clasp of your bra, she hesitates for the briefest moment, gaze flicking to yours as if waiting for permission.

you smirk, reaching behind you to unhook it yourself, letting the straps slide down your arms. “don’t get shy on me now.”

billie exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head. “not shy. just—” she swallows, gaze dark. “don’t wanna rush.”

your smirk softens just a little, and you brush your fingers along her jaw, tilting her chin up. “baby, we’ve got all night.”

her lips curve into something small, almost reverent. “yeah. we do.”

the moment stretches between you, heavy with something unspoken, something deeper than just the press of skin against skin.

you kiss her again, slower now, like you’re savoring every second, every inch of space between you disappearing as her hands roam, her breath mingling with yours.

time feels like it’s slipping away, dissolving into the heat of your skin, the rhythm of your heartbeats in sync. the world outside ceases to exist—no past, no future, just this. just her. just the warmth of her hands, the press of her lips, the weight of her body against yours.

the night stretches on, lost to whispered gasps, tangled limbs, and the quiet hum of something that feels dangerously close to forever.

billie wakes up to the quiet hum of morning, the kind that stretches slow across the land, warm and drowsy. the weight of sleep clings to her limbs, thick and slow, like honey refusing to drip from a spoon. the soft light of the morning filters in through the curtains, painting the room in muted golds and sleepy shadows. the sheets are tangled around her legs, clinging to the heat left behind, but the space beside her is empty.

she shifts, blinking against the haze, her body aching in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant. instinctively, her fingers reach for her neck, grazing over the remnants of last night—your lipstick, deep burgundy, smeared like a brand against her skin. the memory of your mouth, your hands, your weight pressing her into the mattress, lingers like an echo.

but you’re not here.

the realization settles in slow, an unease curling at the base of her spine. she sits up, raking a hand through her hair, her eyes scanning the room. nothing’s out of place, yet something feels off, like the air has been disturbed, like the warmth of you has been stripped away too soon. your hat rests on the chair by the window, untouched, but there’s no note, no message, nothing to tell her where you’ve gone. just an absence that gnaws at the edges of her mind.

her heart drums against her ribs.

last night—she remembers last night. the way you looked at her, the way your lips had parted like you wanted to say something but never did. the way your fingers had trembled, just for a second, before tightening in her hair.

so why does it feel like something slipped through her fingers while she was sleeping?

she swings her legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor grounding her, but it does nothing to settle the unease curling in her stomach. pulling her clothes back on feels mechanical, the fabric stiff from sweat and the lingering scent of you as her fingers moving on autopilot. she doesn’t know why she feels like this, like she’s standing at the edge of something unseen, something she doesn’t have the words for yet.

outside, the sun is already high, too bright, too warm against the cold twisting in her chest. she starts walking, boots kicking up dust as she heads toward her family’s ranch. the land stretches out before her, familiar yet suddenly foreign, like she’s seeing it through a different lens. her thoughts run circles around themselves.

then—

a scream. it’s sound, sharp. splintering.

billie stops cold, her breath catching.

then she’s running.

the sound draws her forward like a thread pulled too tight, unraveling her step by step. when she reaches the clearing, there’s a small crowd gathered, faces stricken, whispers curling in the air like smoke.

and then she sees him.

reggie.

lying still, his body slack, emptied.

his skin is pale, his body still. lifeless. but there’s no blood, no clear wound. just the eerie stillness of him, like something vital has been stolen right from under his skin.

but it’s not just his stillness that makes billie’s stomach drop. it’s the details.

his wrist—bare where his gold watch used to be.

his mouth—slightly open, missing the glint of a gold tooth.

his cheek—marked with a kiss, deep burgundy, the similar shade billie felt against her own skin hours ago.

billie stares. her pulse is a roar in her ears, her breath turning shallow.

her gaze lifts, flickering wildly through the gathered faces until she finds dj already watching her.

dj’s eyes are steady, dark, knowing.

billie can’t move.

dj tilts her head just slightly, and then, almost too soft to hear, she says,

“told you.”

billie sways where she stands, the earth beneath her suddenly unsteady.

the night unravels in her mind, thread by thread, until she’s left with nothing but a sinking realization.

the lipstick. the missing watch. the missing gold tooth.

the empty bed.

the ghost of your touch still warm on her skin.

billie swallows hard, stepping back, her skin cold despite the heat of the sun.

she doesn’t know what’s worse—the sick certainty curling in her gut or the fact that, deep down, some part of her already knew.

astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand @watercolorskyy @bilssturns @47lake @vijaxx @natbelovasblog @hopingforgoodblogs @thefeverburningalive @st0nerlesb0 ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content

[winwintea]

on my bike

PAIRING ↬ ghost rider!lee jeno x fem!reader (feat. yu jimin/karina)

TAGS ↬ fluff, action, romance, angst, hidden feelings, best friends to lovers au, marvel au, ghost rider au, superhero au, antihero jeno potentially, reader is actually a mutant named surge, but she doesn't know it yet, karina is basically emma frost, this is NOT canon to actual marvel lore lol, more inspired by comics than the movies, jeno is a mix between johnny blaze and danny ketch, wrote the word 'venegance' so many times im starting to believe jeno is batman actually

WARNINGS ↬ mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, jeno crashing out, stunts going wrong, and a fight scene

SUMMARY ↬ after a brutal attack, stunt motorcyclist lee jeno stumbles upon a cursed bike and becomes the ghost rider. now bound to the spirit of vengeance, he fights to control his hellish powers while you, his childhood best friend, fall under the influence of a powerful telepath. as your own abilities awaken and tensions ignite, one question remains: will you save each other or burn together?

WORD COUNT ↬ 14.7k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ for @sungbeam's action figures collab!!!!! tysm for letting me join, this was literally the first time i've ever participated in a collab... and it was so fun. definitely challenged myself here, i'm not used to writing super hero or such action-packed scenes so if it's bad i apologize lol. anyways title is inspired by purple kiss i am in love with them now actually.

PLAYLIST ↬ no roots - alice merton; on my bike - purple kiss; nightmare - halsey; highway to hell - ac/dc; play with fire - sam tinnesz, yacht money; bang bang bang - bigbang; million dollar baby - ava max; mad head love - kenshi yonezu; wanted dead or alive - bon jovi; the chain - fleetwood mac; house of memories - panic at the disco; hymn for the weekend - coldplay

“LEE JENO.”

you muttered under your breath, watching as the sound of a roaring motorcycle echoed through the streets of your city, a blur of black and chrome weaving recklessly through traffic. “Of course.”

The bell above the door jingled as Jeno strolled in, helmet in hand, his trademark smirk plastered across his annoyingly perfect face. His leather jacket was scuffed from what you could only assume was another unnecessary stunt, and his bleached white hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“Guess who just broke his own jump record,” he announced, sliding into the booth across from you.

“You mean guess who just almost got himself killed,” you retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeno raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Y/N. It’s not like I landed on someone’s house or anything.”

“Not this time,” you snapped, folding your arms. “Seriously, Jeno, you can’t keep pulling this shit. You’re going to hurt yourself. Or someone else.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back, draping one arm casually over the seat. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Life without you being the industry’s walking insurance liability?” you shot back. “Sounds nice.”

For a second, his smirk faltered, but he quickly bounced back, leaning forward to snag a fry off your plate. “You worry too much. It’s cute, but unnecessary.”

“Don’t call me cute,” you muttered, snatching your plate away before he could grab another fry. “And I wouldn’t have to worry if you didn’t make it your mission to stress me out every single day.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel better, I’m perfectly fine right now,” he said, his voice light but tinged with something defensive.

You gave him a pointed look, gesturing toward the fresh scrape on his arm. “What about that, then? Don’t tell me that’s from cooking. You never cook.”

Jeno glanced down at the scrape, shrugged, and smiled sheepishly. “Fine, maybe I’m a little scratched up.”

“Scratched up doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you muttered, your voice softening. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep watching you do this to yourself, Jeno.”

His smile faded completely now. He suddenly shifted uncomfortably in his seat and grabbed his helmet. “Look, Y/N, I get it, okay? But this is who I am. You don’t have to like it, but you don’t have to stick around either.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “You’re my best friend. I’m always going to stick around. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit here and watch you destroy yourself.”

Jeno hesitated, the weight of your words settling in the space between you. “I’m fine,” he said, but the words lacked conviction. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah, well, too bad,” you replied, standing up and grabbing your jacket. “Because I do. And one day, your luck’s going to run out, Jeno.”

The crowd at the high-stakes stunt show was massive. Rows of bleachers packed with spectators buzzed with anticipation. You sat near the front, hands gripping the edge of your seat, your stomach twisting in knots. Except it wasn’t from excitement, but from anxiety.

Jeno was notorious for taking unnecessary risks, but tonight felt different. This wasn’t just a local showcase; this was a high-profile event with reporters and big-shot sponsors. The stakes were higher, and so was the pressure.

He’d even sworn he was “clean this time,” but you weren’t convinced.

“Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for the highlight of the evening!” the announcer boomed, his voice carrying over the speakers. “The one, the only—Lee Jeno!”

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Jeno rode into the arena, his sleek black motorcycle displayed under the spotlights. He raised one hand in acknowledgment of the cheers before revving up his engine, the rumble vibrating through the stands.

You exhaled sharply, muttering to yourself, “He better not screw this up.”

“Y/N!” Jeno’s voice rang out through his helmet’s mic, directly out of the speakers. He pointed at you, earning a cheer from the crowd. “This one’s for you!”

You rolled your eyes, your face heating up as you pulled your hands over your eyes. The spectators around you erupted into laughter and applause. “Great,” you muttered. “Now I’m part of the show.”

The announcer continued hyping up the crowd. “Jeno will attempt a daring backflip over not one, not two, but three flaming trucks! A feat no rider has dared before!”

Your stomach sank. Flaming trucks? Three? You shot Jeno a warning glare as he revved the bike again, giving you a wink in response.

Oh we’re so fucked.

Unbeknownst to you or Jeno, a group of shadowy figures loitered near the equipment trucks at the edge of the arena. But they weren’t here for the show. Instead, they were here for revenge. One of the men, a burly figure with a scar slicing through his brow, tightened his grip on a wrench.

“Showoff thinks he can cheat us and walk away?” he growled, “Let’s see him jump when his bike doesn’t even make it halfway.”

The group moved swiftly, one of them sneaking into the mechanics’ pit to tamper with Jeno’s ramp. Another slipped toward his bike, loosening key components. They didn’t care about the collateral damage. This was to send a message.

Jeno revved his engine once more, signaling to the crew that he was ready. The crowd roared as he sped toward the first ramp, flames rippled against the sides of the trucks he was about to clear.

You leaned forward in your seat, heart pounding. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die,” you muttered under your breath.

Jeno hit the ramp with precision, the bike soaring into the air like a black comet. The first flip was smooth, flawless even, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

But something went wrong on the descent.

The bike wobbled midair, tilting dangerously to the side. Jeno fought for control, but the tampered suspension buckled on impact with the second ramp. The motorcycle skidded, sparks flying as Jeno tumbled, his helmeted head slamming into the ground with a sickening thud.

The crowd gasped in unison, the cheers turning to horrified murmurs. You were on your feet in an instant, heart in your throat.

“JENO!” you screamed, scrambling down the bleachers toward the arena floor.

Before you could reach him, the saboteurs’ plan spiraled even further out of control. The flames from the trucks flared, spreading to the hay bales that lined the arena. As you sprinted toward Jeno’s crumpled form, one of the burning bales exploded, sending debris flying.

You didn’t even have time to react as a sharp piece of metal tore through the air, striking you across the side. Pain bloomed in your ribs, and you crumpled to the ground.

Dazed but conscious, Jeno pushed himself to his hands and knees, shaking off the stars in his vision. When his gaze landed on you lying motionless on the dirt, blood seeping into your shirt, something inside him snapped.

“No, no, no…” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. His bike was destroyed, the flames were spreading, and you. You were hurt because of him.

Ignoring the chaos and his own injuries, Jeno stumbled toward you, scooping you into his arms. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that he had to get you help. Cradling your limp body, Jeno ran blindly, the roaring flames and chaos fading into the background. His arms ached from carrying you, your weight heavy but nothing compared to the crushing guilt that clawed at his chest. He glanced down at you, your face pale, a streak of blood running from your temple.

“You’re gonna be fine. You hear me? Just fine.” he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. 

The junkyard loomed ahead, its twisted silhouettes of rusted cars and mangled scrap metal casting long shadows under the moonlight. The attackers had scattered once the chaos at the arena spiraled out of control, but Jeno wasn’t about to risk being found. Not with you like this.

He stumbled into the junkyard, his knees nearly buckling as he reached what looked like the remnants of an old garage. The air was thick with the metallic tang of rust and oil. He carefully laid you down on an old tarp, brushing a strand of hair from your face with shaking fingers.

“Okay, okay…” Jeno muttered, looking around frantically. “Think, Jeno. Think. I need to—need to stop the bleeding.”

He tore a strip from his tattered shirt and pressed it against the wound on your side, and watched as your chest slightly rose up and down. Relief flickered in his chest. This meant you were still alive. 

The makeshift bandage was quickly soaked through. “Dammit,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair, smearing grease and sweat across his face. He needed help, but there was no one here. No one except—

The motorcycle.

It caught his eye in the far corner of the garage, half-buried under a pile of scrap. Its frame was unlike anything he’d ever seen, sleek yet ancient, with intricate carvings etched into the metal. It seemed almost alive, faintly glowing with an otherworldly orange light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

“What the…?” Jeno muttered, taking an unsteady step toward it. He couldn’t explain it, but something about the bike drew him in. The air around it felt heavier, charged with an unnatural energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He glanced back at you, lying unconscious, and then at the motorcycle. Desperation clouded his judgment. Maybe. Just maybe? It could help. He didn’t know how or why, but the pull was undeniable.

Jeno reached out, his fingers hovering over the handlebars. The metal was warm, almost hot to the touch, and the glow intensified as if reacting to his presence.

“This is insane,” he muttered, but his hand closed around the grip anyway.

The second his skin made contact, a searing pain shot through his arm, up his spine, and into his skull. He screamed, his knees giving out as an overwhelming heat consumed him. Flames erupted from the motorcycle, engulfing him in a fiery inferno that didn’t burn but felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside.

Memories flashed before his eyes. Every reckless decision, every lie, every failure. The faces of those he’d hurt, including yours, swam in his vision. And then, a voice echoed in his head.

“Lee Jeno.”

Jeno’s body convulsed as the fire intensified, his skin crawling with molten energy. When the flames subsided, he was no longer the same. His hands burned with chains of fire, and his eyes glowed a fierce, demonic orange. He looked down at himself, his reflection faintly visible in the bike’s chrome. His face was a skull, wreathed in flames. The Spirit of Vengeance had awakened. Jeno was its vessel.

“My new Ghost Rider. Your sins are heavy. But your vengeance will be greater.”

“No,” Jeno whispered, his voice distorted, sounding like something almost inhuman. “What…what did you do to me?”

And then, Jeno heard the shouts of the attackers. They had followed him, closing in to finish what they started.

But they weren’t ready for what they found.

Jeno stood, the chains in his hands igniting with blistering heat. The Spirit of Vengeance surged within him, and with it came a single, overpowering urge: punish the guilty.

The attackers froze as he stepped forward, his skeletal face illuminated by the flickering flames. “You came for me,” Jeno growled, his voice echoing unnaturally. “Now you’ll burn for it.”

He lashed out with the chains, each strike searing through metal and flesh alike. The air was filled with screams as the flames consumed the saboteurs, leaving them scorched and broken. Vehicles erupted in explosions, sending shards of scrap flying through the air as the hellfire spread uncontrollably.

When the last of the attackers fell, Jeno stood motionless amidst the chaos, the flames dancing across his body slowly beginning to recede. The roar of the Spirit dimmed, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

And then he saw you.

The sight of your unconscious form lying so still on the ground sent a jolt through him. The fire in his chest flickered, replaced by an overwhelming horror. He dropped the chains and stumbled to your side, his skeletal hands trembling as he reached for you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw and human once more. The flames that had raged across his body faded completely, leaving him kneeling in the dirt, cradling you as his normal face returned.

Tears stung his eyes as he pulled you close, his arms wrapping protectively around your limp body. The junkyard was silent again, save for the faint crackle of dying embers.

“What have I done?” Jeno whispered, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to yours. Even as the Rider, his mind. his heart. It all was still his. He couldn’t lose you.

The sound of distant sirens jolted him from his thoughts. He knew that if he stayed the two of you would be questioned. He gently lifted you onto the back of the fiery motorcycle, the flames reaching your body but leaving you unharmed. The bike seemed to growl beneath him, its power thrumming in his veins, and for the first time, Jeno felt a strange sense of control over the chaos.

With a sharp kick, the motorcycle roared forward, flames streaking behind it as Jeno sped off into the night. 

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing you heard as you drifted back into consciousness. It was followed by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the sterile, antiseptic smell of a hospital room. Your body felt heavy, and when you tried to shift, a sharp pain lanced through your side.

“Easy,” a soft voice said.

Your eyes fluttered open to find Jeno sitting beside your bed, looking utterly wrecked. His black hoodie was rumpled, his knuckles bruised and scraped. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his normally cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked worried for once in his life, like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

“Jeno.” you rasped, your throat dry. 

Relief flooded his face as he leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “You’re okay,” he breathed. “You’re okay.”

“Jeno.” you repeated again, your voice stronger now. 

He hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “There was an accident at the show,” he began cautiously. “You…you got hurt. But you’re safe now. I got you out of there.”

The memories suddenly came rushing back. The flaming trucks, the explosion, the searing pain in your side. And then…nothing.

Your heart rate monitor began to beep faster as anger bubbled to the surface. “The show,” you said bitterly. “Of course. Because you just had to pull another one of your stunts.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Don’t you dare try to defend yourself right now. I almost died, Jeno.”

His shoulders sagged, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m so sorry. If I could take it back—”

“But you can’t, can you?” you snapped, your hands pointed at him accusedly. “You can’t take it back, Jeno. Because this is what you do. You push and you push until someone gets hurt, and this time, that someone was me.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s the problem,” you shot back. “You never mean for it to happen, but it always does. And I’m the one who has to pick up the broken pieces.”

Jeno flinched, like your words had physically struck him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Jeno. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself with drugs and alcohol, while dragging everyone else down with you.”

“I’m trying to change,” he said desperately, leaning forward. “I swear, Y/N. I’m done with all of it, the…everything. I’ll stop.”

“You always say that,” you muttered bitterly, turning your head away. “But nothing ever changes.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint beep of the heart monitor.

“I’ll make it right,” Jeno said after a long pause, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how yet, but I will. I promise.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The pain in your side was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him as he slowly stood and stepped back.

“I’ll let you rest,” he said quietly. “But…I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. I’ll prove to you that I can be better.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile, too-quiet room.

Sometimes Jeno’s promises were often just as hollow as the man who made them.

The roar of the motorcycle echoed through the empty streets as it skidded to a halt in the middle of an empty alley. Jeno ripped off his helmet, his chest heaving as he stumbled away from the bike. The orange glow of his eyes dimmed, leaving him in the dim light of a flickering street lamp.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. His reflection stared back at him in a cracked window—human again, but the memory of his skeletal visage haunted him.

This wasn’t the first night he’d changed. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt it—the fire in his veins, the overwhelming urge to hunt, to punish. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was a presence. Some demon was inside him, whispering in his mind, urging him to give in.

“They deserve to burn.”

The voice was deep and guttural. It slithered through his thoughts like a venomous snake, tightening its hold every time he tried to ignore it.

“I’m not listening to you,” Jeno growled, gripping his head as the voice chuckled darkly.

“You can’t silence me, Jeno. You’re mine now. We’re one.”

The demon never introduced itself. It didn’t need to. Jeno already knew as soon as he touched that damn motorcycle. Zarathos. The Spirit of Vengeance. The demon that had bound itself to his soul, using his body as a vessel.

Jeno clenched his fists, the faint glow of hellfire flickering across his knuckles. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I didn’t ask for this,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not a killer.”

“But you are a sinner,” Zarathos hissed. “And sinners punish sinners. The world is full of filth, and we will cleanse it.”

“No,” Jeno snapped, his voice echoing in the empty alley. “I’m not your executioner.”

The demon’s laughter rang in his head, low and mocking. “You say that now. But you felt it, didn’t you? The thrill? The power? The fire in your blood when you burned them? You enjoyed it.”

Jeno’s stomach churned at the memory of the attackers writhing in agony, the fire consuming them. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them—at least, not like that. But Zarathos was right about one thing: the power was intoxicating. And that terrified him.

He slammed his fist into the brick wall, leaving a charred dent in the crumbling stone. “You’re not in control,” he growled. “I am.”

“For now.”

By day, Jeno tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy. He performed his stunts, practiced at the arena, and plastered on a smile for his fans. But every time he climbed onto a bike, the fire inside him stirred, eager to be unleashed.

It was always worse at night.

Jeno stood on the rooftop of a dilapidated building, the city sprawled out below him like a labyrinth of shadows and flickering lights. The Spirit of Vengeance buzzed in his chest, pulling him toward something or someone.

He saw the scene before he heard it: a man in an alleyway, grabbing a young woman by the wrist. She screamed, struggling to pull away as the man loomed over her, a knife glinting in his hand.

Jeno’s vision blurred, his body moving on autopilot. The flames ignited before he even touched the bike, and when the Ghost Rider landed in the alley, the ground cracked beneath the weight of his fiery presence.

The man froze, his eyes wide with terror as the skeletal figure loomed over him. 

“You,” Jeno growled, his voice layered with Zarathos’ demonic timbre. “You prey on the innocent. What do you think you deserve?”

The man dropped the knife, stumbling backward. “I—I didn’t mean to—please, don’t hurt me!”

But the Spirit of Vengeance didn’t care for apologies. The chains in Jeno’s hands ignited, wrapping around the man and lifting him off the ground.

“Stop,” Jeno muttered, his human voice fighting to break through. “He’s not worth it.”

“He’s guilty,” Zarathos snarled. “And guilt demands punishment.”

The man screamed as the chains tightened, the hellfire scorching his skin. Jeno’s hands trembled, his skull burning brighter as he fought to regain control.

“He’s human,” Jeno argued. “I won’t kill him.”

The demon roared in frustration but relented, the chains loosening just enough to drop the man to the ground. The would-be attacker scrambled to his feet and ran, his screams fading into the distance.

Jeno stood in the alley, the flames around him slowly fading. He turned to the woman, who was staring at him with equal parts fear and gratitude.

“Go home,” he said gruffly, his voice still tinged with the Rider’s growl.

She nodded quickly, thanking him and disappearing into the night.

When the alley was silent again, Jeno collapsed against the wall, his human form returning. He buried his face in his hands, his body trembling.

“You see?” Zarathos sneered. “You can’t stop me forever. And soon, you won’t want to.”

Jeno closed his eyes, the weight of the demon’s presence pressing down on him. He didn’t know how long he could keep fighting. But for now, he had to try.

The neon glow of the gas station sign flickered in and out, bathing the parking lot in harsh, artificial light. Jeno leaned against his motorcycle, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, but anyone who looked close enough would see the cracks in his façade—the trembling hands, the bloodshot eyes, the faint glow that threatened to seep from his skin if he let his guard down.

The whiskey burned his throat, but not nearly as much as the fire that roared in his chest every night. Zarathos was relentless, clawing at the edges of his sanity, and the only way Jeno could silence him was by drowning himself in the haze of alcohol and pills.

“Just a little longer,” he muttered to himself, taking another swig. “Just until I figure this out.”

The lie tasted bitter, but it was easier to believe than the truth. He was losing control.

The next morning, you found him slumped over in his garage, reeking of smoke and booze. You hadn’t heard from him since you were discharged from the hospital, so you wanted to at least check in on him. But you weren’t pleased with what you saw. So much for promising change. 

“Jeno,” you said sharply, crossing your arms as you stood in the doorway.

He stirred, groaning as he lifted his head. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” you shot back. “Why aren’t you at practice? Or, I don’t know, trying to clean up your mess for once?”

He winced at your words, sitting up and rubbing his temples. “Not now, okay? I’ve got a headache that makes me want to kill myself right now.”

You scoffed, stepping closer and yanking the bottle out of his hand. “Are you serious right now? This is what you’re doing with your time? Drinking yourself into oblivion while I’m out here trying to recover from almost dying?”

“I’m trying to deal with it!” Jeno snapped, his voice louder than he intended. He stood, swaying slightly, his eyes bloodshot and tired. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t hate myself for what happened to you?”

“Then stop making it worse!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You’re spiraling, Jeno, and you’re not fighting this addiction at all.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. 

The raw emotion in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Jeno exhaled shakily, running a hand through his messy hair. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” he said quietly. “But I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”

You shook your head, your anger softening but not disappearing. “If this is your idea of trying, Jeno, then you’re failing.”

As you turned to leave, something stopped you. A memory from the news. Whispers of a “fiery skeleton” that had been spotted taking down criminals in the dead of night. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder.

“Jeno,” you said cautiously. “You’ve been out a lot at night. You wouldn’t happen to know or run into that ‘fire guy’ people are talking about, would you?”

His entire body stiffened, his back turned to you. He didn’t answer right away, but the silence was damning. “...No.”

“Jeno,” you pressed, stepping closer. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Just…forget about it, okay?”

But you didn’t believe him. Not for a second.

“Jeno,” you said again, your voice soft but firm. “Look at me.”

He didn’t move.

“Jeno, look at me,” you repeated, more insistent this time.

Finally, he turned, and for the briefest moment, you swore you saw it—a faint glow in his eyes, like embers dying out. Your stomach twisted, a mix of fear and concern swirling in your chest.

“What happened to you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jeno shook his head, stepping back. “You don’t want to know,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted. “I’ve known you my whole life, Jeno. I’ve stood by you through everything. Don’t shut me out now.”

But he just shook his head again, grabbing his helmet and heading for the door. “I can’t,” he said, his voice hollow. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the dimly lit garage, more confused and worried than ever before.

So you needed a change of pace. If Jeno wanted to shut you out, then maybe you could use your time to focus on yourself more. 

You found yourself in your favorite cafe. The snug little store was warm, the scent of roasted coffee beans wrapping around you like a comforting hug. You were halfway through your drink, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, when the chair across from you was pulled out.

“Mind if I join you?”

You looked up, startled, to see a strikingly beautiful woman with an air of effortless confidence. Platinum blonde hair framed her sharp, elegant features, and her icy blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. Her tailored white coat and knee-high boots screamed sophistication, making you suddenly self-conscious of the oversized hoodie and jeans you’d thrown on.

“Uh…sure?” you replied hesitantly, gesturing to the chair.

She smiled, setting down her drink with precision. “I hope I’m not intruding. You looked like you could use some company.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

She tilted her head, studying you like you were an interesting puzzle. “Call it intuition.”

“I guess you’re not wrong,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “It’s been…a rough few weeks.”

“I’m Karina,” she said smoothly, extending a hand.

“Y/N,” you replied, shaking it. Her grip was cool and firm, her smile almost too perfect.

“So, Y/N,” Karina said, resting her chin on her hand. “What’s been weighing on you? I’m a great listener.”

You hesitated. Something about her was disarming, almost magnetic. Before you could stop yourself, the words started spilling out. “It’s…complicated. Let’s just say someone I care about is making it really hard to keep caring about them.”

Karina nodded sympathetically, her expression never wavering. “The burden of loyalty. It’s a heavy one, isn’t it? Is this about a man?”

“Yeah,” you said, surprised by how much her words resonated. “I’ve known him forever, but lately…I don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s hiding something, and it’s tearing us apart.”

Karina sipped her drink, her gaze never leaving yours. “Sometimes, people hide because they’re afraid. Afraid of being judged, or rejected. But that doesn’t excuse them from the hurt they cause.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how accurately she’d summed up your feelings. “Exactly,” you said quietly.

“I know it’s not my place,” Karina continued, her tone gentle, “but maybe you need to take a step back. Focus on yourself for a while. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

Her harsh words settled over you, surprised at her directness. But it was comforting to hear such honesty for once.

“I was thinking of it, but I don’t want to lose him either.” you admitted.

Karina’s smile widened just a fraction. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, other than him, I’m here.” She slid a sleek, white business card across the table. “Call me anytime.”

You picked up the card, turning it over in your hands. There was no title, no address—just her name and a number embossed in silver.

“Thanks,” you said, tucking it into your pocket.

“Don’t mention it,” Karina said, standing gracefully. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. You deserve it.”

Over the next few days, Karina became a fixture in your life. She’d text you to check in, send little messages of encouragement, and even invite you out for coffee or dinner.

At first, you were wary. People didn’t just waltz into your life like this without a reason. But Karina was warm, attentive, and had an uncanny ability to say exactly what you needed to hear. Plus, she was looking for friends in the city too since she had just moved here. 

“So, what’s the full deal with this guy?” she asked one evening over dinner, sipping a glass of wine. “The one who’s been giving you all this grief.”

“His name is Lee Jeno,” you said reluctantly. “He’s my…well, we’ve been friends since we were kids. But he’s got issues. Big ones.”

“Oh damn. The stunt biker guy.” Karina raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Issues like ‘he forgot your birthday,’ or issues like ‘he’s a raging alcoholic or drug addict or some other addiction’?”

You laughed, though it was tinged with unease. “Closer to the second one, honestly. Well, he’s always struggled with it. Yet, he’s been acting so weird lately. Disappearing at night, avoiding my questions. And sometimes, when I look at him, it’s like he’s not even Jeno anymore.”

Karina leaned forward, her expression unreadable. “And you’re sure it’s just him trying to hide his addiction? Nothing…bigger going on?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Karina said breezily, waving a hand. “Just that sometimes, people go through changes. Big changes. Ones they don’t know how to explain. And sometimes, it takes someone else to help them see their true potential.”

You frowned, her words stirring something deep inside you. “I don’t know. Jeno’s not exactly the ‘ask for help’ type.”

Karina’s smile turned enigmatic, her blue eyes practically glowing. “Maybe not. But some people just need the right nudge. And who better to do that than you?”

There was something in her tone, something that made your skin prickle. But before you could dwell on it, Karina raised her glass in a toast.

“To new beginnings,” she said, her voice smooth as silk.

You hesitated, then clinked your glass against hers. “To new beginnings.”

As you drank, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Karina knew more about your life and Jeno’s than maybe she was letting on.

The opulent room was bathed in shadows, the flickering light of a chandelier casting jagged shapes on the polished mahogany walls. Karina stood at the center of the large, round table, her white ensemble a stark contrast against the room’s dark and decadent decor. Around her sat the upper echelon of the Hellfire Club, an underground organization of mutants with a reputation for ruthlessness and manipulation.

“Karina,” a deep, commanding voice said, breaking the silence. It belonged to the Black King, the leader of the group, whose piercing gaze bore into her. “My dearest White Queen. You’ve been unusually proactive lately. Care to share what’s captured your attention?”

Karina smiled coolly, folding her hands in front of her. “I’ve found something—or rather, someone—of immense potential.”

The Black Queen, a woman with sharp features and an even sharper tongue, leaned forward with an arched brow. “Do tell. Potential isn’t exactly rare these days. Why is this someone worth our time?”

Karina stepped closer to the table, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Her name is Y/N. She’s a baseline human. Or so she thinks. She’s yet to manifest her mutant abilities.”

She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. “Her energy is…raw, untapped, but powerful. I’ve felt it. It’s dormant now, but when it awakens, it will rival even the strongest of us. I’m surprised it’s taking her so long to manifest, but that’s what makes it so powerful.”

The Black King steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable. “And what makes you so certain she’s worth the effort? If her powers haven’t manifested yet, there’s no guarantee they ever will.”

Karina tilted her head, a hint of amusement in her smile. “Oh, they will. I’ve already seen the signs—subtle as they are. Her emotions are volatile, and she’s drawn to chaos like a moth to flame. It’s only a matter of time before the spark ignites.”

The Black Queen’s lips curved into a smirk. “Interesting. And what do you propose we do with her once this ‘spark’ ignites?”

Karina’s smile turned predatory, her blue eyes gleaming. “We guide her. Shape her. I’m sensing some crazy electrical forces. Imagine what we could accomplish with her power under our control.”

“And if she refuses?” the Black King asked, his tone cold and measured.

Karina’s expression didn’t falter. “Then we ensure she has no choice. After all, loyalty is just another form of control. And I’ve already begun earning hers.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the other members exchanged intrigued glances.

The Black King leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Karina. But if you can deliver on your promises, the rewards will be worth the risk.”

“I always deliver,” Karina said smoothly.

The Black Queen raised her glass, the golden liquid catching the light. “Then here’s to your little pet project. Let’s hope she’s everything you claim she is.”

Karina raised her own glass in return, her smile never wavering. 

“Oh, she will be.”

Jeno stood outside the café, arms crossed and jaw tight as he watched through the window. There you were, sitting across from Karina again, laughing at something she’d said. The way you leaned in, the way she smiled that calculated, flawless smile—it all set his teeth on edge.

He clenched his fists, the faint flicker of flames threatening to ignite beneath his skin. Zarathos stirred in the back of his mind, growling low like an animal sensing danger.

“She’s not who she seems,” the demon whispered, its voice grating like embers crackling.

Jeno didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. He’d felt it the moment he’d laid eyes on Karina. Something about her was too perfect, too polished. And the way she’d latched onto you so quickly? It wasn’t right.

He waited until Karina had left before stepping inside. You looked up, surprised to see him, but your expression quickly shifted to irritation.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone defensive.

Jeno didn’t answer right away, pulling up a chair and sitting across from you. His leather jacket creaked as he leaned forward, his dark eyes searching yours. “We need to talk.”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. “If this is about Karina—”

“It is about her,” he cut in, his voice firm. “Y/N, you don’t know her. Not really.”

“And you do?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“I don’t need to,” he said, his tone rising. “Something about her is off. I can feel it.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Oh, great. Now we’re relying on your ‘feelings’ to judge people? Like your intuition ever worked in the first place. I’m lucky to be alive right now.”

Jeno’s jaw tightened. “I’m serious, Y/N. She’s not who she says she is. People don’t just waltz into your life and start playing therapist out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“Maybe she actually cares,” you snapped. “Unlike someone who disappears for days at a time without a word and comes back smelling like smoke and regret.”

Jeno flinched at your words, but he pushed forward. “I’m not perfect, okay? But I know when someone’s trouble. And Karina? She’s got ‘trouble’ written all over her.”

“Why do you even care?” you demanded, your voice rising. “You don’t get to swoop in and play the hero after everything that’s happened. I don’t need your permission to make new friends.”

Jeno looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something softer—hurt, maybe. “I care because I don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”

For a moment, you almost softened. Almost.

But then you thought about Karina. How she listened, how she didn’t judge you, how she made you feel seen in a way Jeno hadn’t in months.

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t trust,” you said coldly. “Karina’s been more of a friend to me lately than you have.”

Jeno stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.

“Then it’s my mistake to make,” you shot back.

He stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he shoved it back. “Fine,” he muttered, turning to leave. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Later that evening, you met Karina at her apartment. A sleek, modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. God, you were poor as hell. She greeted you with a warm smile, handing you a glass of wine as you settled onto her plush couch.

“You seem tense,” she noted, sitting gracefully across from you.

“Just had another fight with Jeno,” you admitted, swirling the wine in your glass. “He’s convinced you’re some kind of…villain or something.”

Karina chuckled, the sound light and melodic. “He doesn’t trust me?”

“Not even a little,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s like he’s looking for reasons to push me away.”

Karina reached out, placing a hand over yours. Her touch was cool and comforting. “Sometimes people lash out because they’re afraid. Fear can make them see threats where there are none.”

You sighed, leaning back. “I just don’t get it. Why can’t he see that you’re trying to help me?”

Karina’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something calculated. “It’s because he doesn’t understand you the way I do. You’re special, Y/N. More than you realize.”

You frowned, her words catching you off guard. “Special? What do you mean?”

Karina smiled enigmatically, her fingers brushing against yours. “You’ll see. In time.”

Her words left a lingering unease in your chest, but you pushed it aside. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t know what he was talking about.

Jeno leaned against the wall of his garage, staring blankly at the ground. Zarathos growled in the back of his mind, restless and impatient.

“You should have burned her,” the demon hissed.

Jeno closed his eyes, his hands balling into fists. “Shut up.”

“She’s manipulating her. The girl you care for. Can’t you feel it?”

Jeno’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. But what could he do? You weren’t listening to him, and every time he tried to warn you, it only pushed you further away.

“Then stop warning her,” Zarathos said, his voice low and menacing. “And show her what that woman truly is.”

Jeno opened his eyes, the flames flickering faintly in his irises. For once, he found himself agreeing with the demon. 

“You’re finally listening,” Zarathos hissed, its voice echoing in Jeno’s head.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jeno muttered, gripping the handlebars of the bike. “I didn’t ask for you, and I’m not letting you run the show.”

The Spirit of Vengeance laughed, a dark, grating sound that sent chills down Jeno’s spine. “You think you can control me, boy? You’re nothing without me.”

Jeno scowled, the flames creeping up his arms flaring brighter in response to his frustration. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for her.”

“Ah, the girl,” Zarathos sneered. “You think she’ll forgive you? That she’ll see you as anything but a monster?”

“She will,” Jeno said firmly, his voice steady despite the doubt gnawing at him. “But first, I need to figure out how to use this…whatever this is.”

Zarathos growled. “Vengeance isn’t a tool, boy. It’s a purpose. A fire that consumes everything in its path.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not here to burn the world down,” Jeno snapped. “I’m here to protect it.”

The Spirit laughed again, its voice dripping with disdain. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Determined to understand his new abilities, Jeno spent every spare moment testing the limits of his powers. He discovered that the flames responded to his emotions, roaring to life when he was angry or scared and flickering out when he calmed himself.

One night, he stood in the middle of an abandoned road, the cursed motorcycle idling beside him. He took a deep breath, focusing on the growing warmth in his chest, and held out his hand. A whip of fire erupted from his palm, coiling and snapping like a living thing.

“Not bad,” he muttered to himself, extinguishing the whip with a flick of his wrist.

But every small victory was overshadowed by the constant presence of Zarathos. The Spirit’s voice was a relentless whisper in his mind, urging him to give in, to embrace the fire and let it consume him.

“Why fight it?” Zarathos taunted. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The power. The thrill.”

Jeno ignored the voice, climbing onto the motorcycle and revving the engine. The flames along its frame flared to life, illuminating the darkness around him.

“I’m not your puppet,” he muttered, tightening his grip on the handlebars.

“We’ll see,” the Spirit replied, its laughter echoing in his ears as he sped down the road.

One evening, while patrolling the outskirts of town, Jeno stumbled upon a group of men mugging an elderly woman in an alley. His first instinct was to intervene, but as the flames began to crawl up his arms, Zarathos’ voice returned, stronger than ever.

“Punish them,” it hissed. “Make them suffer.”

Jeno hesitated, his heart pounding. The men turned to face him, their eyes widening in fear as they took in his glowing eyes and the flames licking at his jacket.

“Hey, man, we don’t want any trouble,” one of them stammered, backing away.

Jeno clenched his fists, the fire burning hotter. Zarathos was screaming in his mind now, urging him to unleash his fury.

“They deserve it!” the Spirit roared. “They’re guilty!”

But as Jeno looked at the terrified men, he saw something else—fear. Regret. They weren’t innocent, but they weren’t beyond saving, either.

“No,” Jeno said aloud, his voice steady. “Not like this.”

He extinguished the flames, stepping forward and forcing the men to flee with nothing more than his presence. The elderly woman thanked him tearfully, but as he walked away, the weight of Zarathos’ disapproval settled over him like a storm cloud.

“You’re weak,” the Spirit snarled. “One day, you’ll see. Mercy has no place in vengeance.”

“Maybe not,” Jeno muttered, mounting his motorcycle. “But I’m not just vengeance. I’m also me.”

The more Jeno used his powers, the more he began to notice strange connections—patterns he couldn’t ignore. The criminals he encountered often mentioned a name in hushed tones: Karina.

One night, he followed a lead to an abandoned warehouse, where he found a cache of high-tech weapons and equipment. The markings on the crates were unmistakable. This wasn’t ordinary crime.

“She’s not just some innocent bystander,” Jeno muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re finally catching on,” Zarathos sneered. “She’s more dangerous than you know. And she has her sights set on your girl.”

Jeno’s heart sank. He didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was piling up. Karina wasn’t who she seemed, and if she was connected to you, that meant you were in more danger than you realized.

He revved his motorcycle, the flames roaring to life. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, speeding off into the night.

The fire burned hotter now, fueled by a new determination. Jeno wasn’t just fighting to control the Spirit of Vengeance anymore. He was fighting to save you.

You sat in Karina’s sleek, modern apartment, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the pristine walls. A strange tension filled the room. Karina’s usually serene demeanor had shifted; there was an intensity in her gaze, something calculating behind her sharp blue eyes.

“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” Karina asked, her voice soft yet commanding.

“Felt what?” you asked, frowning as you set your cup of tea on the table.

“That spark,” she said, leaning forward, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. “The moments when your emotions run high—fear, anger, pain—and something stirs inside you. Something you can’t explain.”

You blinked, your pulse quickening. You had felt something—fleeting moments of electric energy coursing through your body, like static building up but never quite releasing. But you’d written it off as stress or adrenaline.

“How do you know about that?” you asked warily.

Karina smiled, a knowing, almost maternal expression crossing her face. “Because I’ve seen it before. I know what you are, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened. “What I am? You make it sound like I’m not a human.”

“You’re not just human,” she said, her tone dripping with certainty. “You’re a mutant.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and charged. You stared at her, the weight of her statement pressing down on you. “That’s not… I’m not…”

“You are,” Karina interrupted gently. “It’s why you’ve always felt different, why strange things happen around you when you’re upset. It’s your gift, Y/N. Your power.”

Your mind raced, flashes of unexplained incidents from your past bubbling to the surface: the lights flickering during arguments, the faint hum of electricity in your veins when you were scared. 

A mutant? But mutants were both feared and loved by society. Oh god, what would Jeno think?

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Karina reached out, placing a hand on yours. “You don’t have to say anything. I know how overwhelming this must be, but you’re not alone. You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

You looked up at her, tears pricking your eyes. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know how to control it.”

“That’s where I come in,” Karina said smoothly. “I can help you. I’ve been where you are, Y/N. I know what it’s like to feel lost, to feel like the world doesn’t understand you. But I do.”

Her words were like a lifeline, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of hope. But then a small voice in the back of your mind—Jeno’s voice—echoed faintly: She’s not who she says she is.

You shook your head, brushing the thought away. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t understand.

Karina led you into a hidden room within her apartment, the walls lined with advanced tech and holographic screens displaying maps, dossiers, and data that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“What is all this?” you asked, glancing around in awe.

“This,” Karina said, gesturing to the room with a flourish, “is part of something much bigger. A movement, if you will. The Hellfire Club.”

You turned to her, confusion etched across your face. “The Hellfire Club? What is that?”

“We’re an organization dedicated to ensuring mutantkind rises to its rightful place in the world,” Karina explained, her voice laced with passion. “For too long, mutants have been oppressed, hunted, and treated as less than human. But we’re done hiding. We’re done being afraid.”

Her words stirred something in you—a mix of fear and curiosity. “What does this have to do with me?”

Karina stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “Everything. Your powers, Y/N—they’re extraordinary. Once they’re fully awakened, you’ll be capable of things most mutants can only dream of. But you need guidance. Training. And that’s what I’m offering you.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “I don’t know if I can do this. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“None of us did,” Karina said, her voice softening. “But we don’t get to choose what we are. We can only choose how we use it. And you, Y/N, have the potential to change everything.”

She paused, letting her words sink in before adding, “But to do that, you have to let go of your fear. You have to embrace who you are. And you have to trust me.”

There was something magnetic about her, something that made you want to believe every word she said. But deep down, a seed of doubt began to take root.

“What’s the catch?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Karina smiled, her expression unreadable. “No catch, my dear. Only the promise of a future where you can be free—where we can all be free.”

You hesitated, torn between the comfort of her words and the nagging feeling in your gut. “I need time to think.”

“Of course,” Karina said smoothly. “Take all the time you need. But remember, Y/N. Your power is a gift. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

As you left her apartment that night, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to believe her, to trust her, but something about her intensity unsettled you.

And as you walked into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing at the edge of something much larger and much more dangerous than you’d ever imagined.

Jeno sat on the curb outside your apartment, his head in his hands, shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion and regret. His jacket was torn, his knuckles bloodied from a fight he barely remembered, and the faint smell of whiskey lingered on his breath. He stared blankly at the empty bottle in his lap, the flames of his inner turmoil simmering just beneath the surface. The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that made his thoughts louder, more unbearable.

When you stepped outside, startled to find him there in the dead of night, his eyes met yours. They were glassy, but not from the alcohol. There was something raw and vulnerable in them, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. For a moment, you hesitated, unsure whether to approach him or turn back inside. But the sight of him—broken, disheveled, and so unlike the confident Jeno you’d always known—pulled you forward.

“Jeno?” you said cautiously, stepping closer. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the tension between you was far more chilling.

He looked up, his eyes hollow yet filled with a desperation that made your chest tighten. “Y/N,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. He stood, swaying slightly, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I—I needed to see you.”

Your heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked like a ghost of the man you once knew, his charm buried beneath layers of pain and self-destruction. “It’s the middle of the night,” you said, crossing your arms, trying to shield yourself from the emotions threatening to spill over. “You can’t just show up like this.”

“I know,” he said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I know I’m a mess. But I—” He paused, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You frowned, torn between frustration and concern. “What do you mean?”

Jeno’s hands trembled as he gripped the bottle tighter, then hurled it across the street. It shattered against the pavement, the sound cutting through the stillness like a scream. “This!” he shouted, gesturing wildly to himself. “I’m losing control, Y/N! Of everything. Of my powers. Of… of me.”

You stepped back, startled by the outburst. “Jeno, calm down—”

“I can’t!” he yelled, his voice breaking. “I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried. But it’s like I’m fighting this thing inside me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it at bay.”

His hands ignited for a split second, flames licking at his skin before fizzling out. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The sight of the fire—real, tangible fire—coming from his hands was impossible to process. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen. “Jeno… what was that?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He clenched his fists, shaking his head as if trying to push the Spirit’s voice out of his mind. “It’s me,” he said bitterly. “Or… it’s not me. I don’t even know anymore.” He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and shame. “I’m not just some messed-up stunt rider, Y/N. I’m… I’m the Ghost Rider.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Your mind reeled, struggling to reconcile the Jeno you knew with the stories you’d heard about the fiery vigilante haunting the city. “The Ghost Rider?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s… that’s impossible.”

“I wish it was,” he said, his voice hollow. “But it’s real. The flames, the power, the voice in my head—it’s all real. And it’s killing me, Y/N. Every time I transform, it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. And the things I’ve done… the people I’ve hurt…” He trailed off, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair again. “I’m a monster.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, but the shock of his confession kept you rooted to the spot. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice rising. “All this time, you’ve been dealing with this alone, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to see me like this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want you to look at me and see a monster. You’re the one person who still sees something good in me, and I couldn’t risk losing that.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words hit you. “Jeno, you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

“And then there’s you,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with anguish. “You’re the one thing. The only thing that makes me want to be better. But I’m screwing that up too, aren’t I?”

“Jeno…” You didn’t know what to say, the weight of his words leaving you stunned. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Shock, fear, anger, and an overwhelming sadness for the man standing in front of you.

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours desperately. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not to her. Not to Karina.”

You stiffened at the mention of her name. “This again? Jeno, I told you—Karina’s helping me. She understands me in a way you don’t. She—”

“She’s using you!” Jeno snapped, his voice rising. “You think she cares about you? She’s manipulating you, Y/N. I’ve seen it. I feel it.”

“You don’t know her,” you shot back, anger flaring in your chest. “You don’t know what I’ve been through or what it’s like to feel so out of control. Karina does.”

“And I don’t?” Jeno asked bitterly. “I’ve been out of control my whole damn life. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’m trying because of you.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he ran a hand down his face, his composure crumbling. “I love you,” he said finally, his words barely audible. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it until now.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and charged. Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jeno… you can’t.” you began, your voice faltering. “That’s so unfair. You can’t fucking drop that on me?” 

He grabbed your hands, his touch warm despite the cold night air. “Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Please don’t trust her. Don’t let her pull you into whatever she’s planning. I can’t lose you to her.”

You pulled your hands away, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. “You don’t understand, Jeno. I’m finally starting to figure out who I am, and Karina is helping me. I can’t just walk away from that.”

“And what about me?” he asked, his voice breaking. “What about us?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.”

Jeno stared at you, his expression a mix of heartbreak and resignation. “You’ve already chosen her, haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. The silence between you was deafening, and when Jeno finally turned and walked away, the flames that had always surrounded him seemed smaller, dimmer.

The air inside the abandoned factory was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat. The dim, flickering lights overhead cast long shadows across the rusted machinery and crumbling walls, creating an eerie backdrop for the confrontation you knew was coming. You stood frozen at the edge of the room, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. Your hands trembled at your sides, tiny sparks of electricity dancing between your fingers. You clenched your fists, trying to suppress the energy surging through you, but it was like holding back a tidal wave.

Karina stood at the center of the room, her white suit pristine despite the grime of the factory. Her diamond-shaped earrings caught the faint light, glinting like shards of ice. She watched you with a calculating gaze, her lips curled into a faint smirk. “You feel it, don’t you?” she said, her voice smooth and unnervingly calm. “The power inside you, begging to be unleashed. You don’t have to fight it, Y/N. Let it out.”

“Stop. Get out of my head.” you snapped, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger. 

Her smirk widened. “Darling, you can barely control your own abilities. I’m just helping you clear your mind. To help you relax. ”

Before you could respond, a deafening roar tore through the silence. The factory doors exploded inward, shards of metal and wood scattering across the floor. Flames erupted in the doorway, and through the inferno, Jeno emerged on his motorcycle, the Ghost Rider in full form. His flaming skull cast an ominous glow across the room, and his chain dragged behind him, leaving scorch marks in its wake.

“Karina!” Jeno’s voice was a guttural growl, distorted by the Spirit of Vengeance. “Step away from her.”

Karina turned toward him, her smirk never faltering. “Well, well,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “The Spirit of Vengeance finally decided to crash the party. How… predictable.”

You took a step forward, panic rising in your chest. “Jeno, don’t do this!”

He glanced at you briefly, his fiery gaze softening for just a moment. “Get out of here, Y/N. I don’t want you to see this.”

Karina laughed, a cold, melodic sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Oh, she’s not going anywhere. Not when she’s finally starting to understand her potential.”

Jeno’s flames roared brighter, his chain snapping taut in his hands. “You’re not laying a finger on her.”

Karina’s eyes glowed with a faint silver hue, her telepathic powers flaring to life. “I don’t need to lay a finger on her to destroy you, Jeno.”

The telepathic assault hit Jeno like a freight train. His flames flickered, dimming as he staggered back, clutching his skull. The Ghost Rider’s growl turned into a pained roar as Karina’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and venomous.

“You’re a failure, Lee Jeno,” she hissed, her words cutting deeper than any physical blow. “A coward. A junkie. You think you can protect her? You couldn’t even protect yourself.”

Jeno dropped to his knees, his chain clattering to the ground. His fiery skull dimmed further, revealing glimpses of his human face beneath, twisted in agony. “No,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “No, I—”

Karina stepped closer, her voice dripping with venom. “You left her to die, Jeno. You’re the reason she almost bled out in that junkyard. And now you think you can save her from me? You’re pathetic.”

“Stop it!” you screamed, stepping forward. But an invisible barrier, a telekinetic shield, held you back. You slammed your fists against it, sparks of electricity crackling against the force field. “Let him go!”

Karina didn’t even glance at you, her focus entirely on Jeno. “You’re nothing without the Spirit of Vengeance. Just a broken man with nothing to offer.”

Jeno’s flames sputtered, his body trembling as he fought against her mental assault. But then, something snapped.

A surge of electricity exploded from your body, shattering Karina’s barrier and sending a shockwave through the room. The force of it knocked Karina back, her telepathic hold on Jeno breaking as she stumbled. Sparks danced along your skin, and the lights in the factory flickered wildly, casting the room in a chaotic strobe of light and shadow.

Karina’s calm façade cracked for the first time, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you. “What…?” she muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

You looked down at your hands, electricity arcing between your fingers. The buzzing energy in your veins was overwhelming but exhilarating, like you were finally alive for the first time. “I don’t know what you did to me,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “But I’m done letting you manipulate me.”

Jeno rose to his feet, his flames roaring back to life as the Spirit of Vengeance surged within him. He turned to you, his fiery gaze filled with both awe and concern. “Y/N… your powers…”

You met his gaze, a flicker of resolve igniting in your chest. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, we stop her. Together.”

Karina’s lips twisted into a scowl. “You think you can stop me? Both of you are just scared little children playing with powers you don’t understand.”

Her eyes glowed again as she prepared to strike, but this time, you were ready. Electricity coursed through your body as you raised your hand, sending a bolt of lightning toward her. Jeno’s chain ignited in flames as he lashed out, the Ghost Rider and your newfound powers colliding in a chaotic, electrified storm of fire and fury.

Sparks flew as your electricity surged wildly, ricocheting off metal beams and machinery, while flames from Jeno’s Ghost Rider form scorched the ground. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning metal, the heat of the battle pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Karina narrowly avoided both attacks.

You stood in the middle of it all, suddenly trembling as the power in your veins pulsed out of control, the air around you crackling with raw energy. Every breath felt like fire in your lungs, every heartbeat a thunderous drum in your ears.

“Jeno, stop!” you shouted, your voice breaking through the storm of noise. “I can’t— I can’t control it!”

“Y/N, get out of here!” Jeno growled, the hellfire in his skull burning brightly as he dodged a telepathic assault from Karina. His chain lashed out, the flames leaving a trail of fire as it whipped through the air. “I’ll handle her!”

“You can’t handle me, Rider,” Karina sneered, her diamond-covered hand catching the flames of Jeno’s chain and deflecting them with ease. The impact sent a shower of sparks cascading to the ground, illuminating her cold, calculating smirk. She twisted her body back to flesh, her eyes glowing as she aimed a telepathic blast toward you. “And neither can she.”

The attack hit you like a freight train, sending you stumbling backward. Your head throbbed as Karina’s voice echoed in your mind, sharp and venomous. You’re a danger to everyone around you, Y/N. Look at him. He’s already breaking because of you.

“No!” you shouted, gripping your head as electricity sparked uncontrollably from your body, burning holes in the ground. The pain was unbearable, a searing heat that threatened to consume you. “Get out of my head!”

Jeno roared, swinging his flaming chain toward Karina with a ferocity that shook the room. “Leave her alone!”

Karina turned to diamond just in time, the chain clashing against her hardened form with a deafening clang. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the factory, shattering nearby windows and sending shards of glass raining down. Jeno pulled back and lashed out again, but the attacks only glanced off her unyielding body, leaving faint scorch marks on her diamond skin.

“You’re predictable,” Karina taunted, reverting back to her human form. Her voice dripped with malice as she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the cracked concrete. “And reckless.” Her eyes narrowed, her telepathic powers flaring as she struck again, this time targeting Jeno. Which is why you’ll never be enough for her.

Jeno froze, his flames flickering as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. The Ghost Rider’s growl faltered, his fiery skull dimming as Karina’s mental assault dug into his deepest insecurities. “I… I…” he stammered, his voice trembling.

Seeing her opening, Karina lunged, her diamond form shimmering into existence as she aimed a devastating punch at Jeno’s chest. The blow landed with a sickening crunch, sending him flying into a stack of metal crates. He hit the ground hard, the flames around him sputtering as he struggled to rise.

“Jeno!” you screamed, your voice raw with panic. Electricity surged through you, the power building to a dangerous level as your fear and anger took over. You raised your hands, the energy crackling wildly as you unleashed a massive bolt of lightning toward Karina.

She shifted to diamond just in time, the electricity ricocheting off her hardened form and striking a nearby generator. The explosion sent a wave of heat and debris crashing through the factory, the force of it knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, the breath driven from your lungs as pain shot through your ribs.

Karina emerged from the smoke, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, her once-pristine suit now torn and scorched. “You’re meddling in things you don’t understand, Y/N,” she hissed, her voice laced with frustration.

“And whose fault is that?” you shot back, electricity arcing dangerously around you. Your body ached, your vision blurred, but you forced yourself to stand. “You lied to me. You used me.”

“I gave you purpose!” Karina snapped, shifting back to her human form as she tried to invade your mind again. But you were ready this time.

The moment her telepathic influence touched you, your electricity surged outward in a massive wave, cutting off her connection. The lights in the factory exploded, plunging the room into flickering darkness lit only by Jeno’s flames and the electric blue glow of your powers. The air buzzed with energy, the tension so thick it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.

Jeno took advantage of the distraction, his chain wrapping around Karina’s leg and yanking her off her feet. She hit the ground with a sharp thud, immediately shifting to diamond to avoid his next attack. Jeno’s flames roared brighter as he swung his chain again, the fiery links crashing against her diamond form with enough force to send her skidding across the floor.

“You’re out of tricks, Karina!” Jeno snarled, his skull blazing with hellfire.

Karina smirked, standing slowly. “Am I?”

With a wave of her hand, she sent shards of diamond-like energy hurtling toward you. Jeno’s flames flared brighter as he leapt in front of you, the shards disintegrating against his burning form. But the force of the attack sent him staggering, his flames flickering as he struggled to stay upright.

“Y/N, focus!” he shouted, glancing over his shoulder at you. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, his human form flickering beneath the Ghost Rider’s flames. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. The chaos of the battle overwhelmed you, but Jeno’s words anchored you, giving you the strength to push past the fear. Electricity sparked and crackled around you as you raised your hands, channeling the power into a focused current. The energy shot forward, slamming into Karina with enough force to send her flying into a pile of crates.

She staggered to her feet, her diamond form flickering as she struggled to maintain it. For the first time, she looked rattled, her breathing ragged and her movements slower, more deliberate.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.

“We’ll see about that,” Jeno growled, flames flaring as he stepped forward.

You steadied yourself, your hands still sparking, ready for whatever came next. For the first time, you felt a glimmer of control over your powers. With Jeno by your side, you knew you wouldn’t back down.

Karina straightened, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. She held up a hand, her expression unreadable. “Enough,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost resigned. “I can’t keep this up forever.”

Jeno growled, his chain igniting in fiery protest as the Spirit of Vengeance pushed him to finish the fight. “You don’t get to walk away, Karina.”

But you stepped forward, placing a hand on his burning shoulder. “Jeno, wait,” you said, your voice firm but calm. “Let me handle this.”

Jeno’s skull turned slightly toward you, the flames in his sockets flickering with hesitation, but he relented, lowering his chain. “Fine. But don’t trust her.”

You turned to Karina, your chest heaving as you fought to steady the overwhelming power coursing through you. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with exhaustion and hurt. “You said you were helping me. Was it all a lie?”

Karina’s diamond form flickered briefly before she reverted fully to flesh and blood. For the first time, you saw something human in her eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe doubt. She wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek, straightening her posture.

“I didn’t lie,” she said, her voice softer now. “Not about everything. You do have incredible potential, Y/N. More than you realize. But… I didn’t approach you purely out of kindness.”

“Then why?” you demanded, the electricity around you sparking dangerously.

Karina hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Because I needed you. Your powers. For the Hellfire Club’s plans. You were… a means to an end.”

Your chest tightened at her words, but before the anger could take hold, she continued.

“But,” she said, glancing away, “it wasn’t all manipulation. I—” She paused, the unflappable Karina momentarily at a loss for words. “I enjoyed spending time with you, Y/N. You’re smart, kind… and you made me see things differently.”

“Differently?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Karina met your gaze, her icy composure softening. “I’ve spent so much of my life doing what I thought was necessary—making hard decisions for the ‘greater good.’ But being around you… it reminded me of who I used to be, before all of this. Before I became... this.”

Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming but still present. “If you’re having second thoughts, prove it. Walk away.”

Karina looked between you and Jeno, her expression conflicted. For a moment, you thought she might lash out again, but instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of sleek, metallic gauntlets.

“Here,” she said, tossing them to you. You caught them instinctively, the cool metal humming faintly in your hands. “They’ll help you control your powers. Keep you from accidentally frying someone. I was supposed to give them to you after you joined us.”

You stared at the gauntlets, then back at her. “Then why are you giving me these now?”

Karina smiled faintly, a flicker of genuine warmth breaking through her usual cool demeanor. “Because I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. Power without control... it’ll destroy you. And I’d rather not see that happen.”

Jeno crossed his arms, his fiery gaze narrowing. “This doesn’t absolve you of everything you’ve done.”

“I know,” Karina said, her voice quiet. She turned to you, her expression serious. “If things get worse. Like if the Hellfire Club comes after you. Call me. I’ll help you.”

“Why?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Karina gave you a small, almost sad smile. “Because despite everything, I care about you, Y/N. More than I expected to.”

With that, she turned on her heel and began walking toward the factory’s exit.

“You’ll never stop looking over your shoulder if you go back to them,” Jeno called after her, his voice hard.

Karina paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But we don’t all get to ride off into the sunset with a gorgeous woman who can manipulate electricity by our side, do we, Rider?”

And then she was gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

You stood there, clutching the gauntlets tightly, your heart a storm of emotions. Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming until they extinguished completely, leaving him in his human form.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was true. “I think so. For now.”

He gave you a small, tentative smile. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

The factory was a wreck. The floors were scorched, the walls cracked from the battles you fought, and the lingering scent of burnt rubber and ozone filled the air. You and Jeno both stood in the aftermath, looking like a pair of survivors who had just stumbled out of a warzone—except, in your case, the war was against a woman who could turn into a diamond. And, you know, manipulate minds. No big deal.

You winced as you flexed your wrist, the burn from a stray blast still making your skin tingle. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed his own set of injuries: deep cuts across his arms and a nasty gash on his forehead, not to mention his previously pristine jacket now reduced to ash and scorched fabric. Classic Jeno, always wearing the most expensive thing in a junkyard brawl.

“Hey, so…” you began, shifting uncomfortably as you tried to ignore the awkward silence hanging between you two. “About all the… revelations tonight.”

Jeno shot you a sideways glance, and you could see the weight of everything that had happened sinking in. The Spirit of Vengeance had left him, so at least he wasn’t looking like a flaming skull for now, but you could still see the lingering guilt in his eyes. The man was a walking metaphor for a storm. Wild, unpredictable, and, apparently, in need of a good therapist.

“Yeah, you don’t say,” he muttered, rubbing his head. “So, uh, what now? Do we pretend that didn’t happen? Or is the whole ‘electricity-generating mutant’ thing a forever deal?”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You think I just woke up one day and thought, ‘Hey, I’ll be a walking lightning rod for the rest of my life’?”

Jeno winced as he straightened up, his movements stiff. “No, I didn’t, but... you know. Seems like that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Great. I’ll add it to my ‘What I Did Wrong Today’ list,” you muttered, feeling the familiar surge of frustration rise in you. But it wasn’t just at your powers. It was at the one thing you couldn’t quite shake off: Jeno.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your tone suddenly more serious. “And what about you, huh? Still think popping pills and riding a bike through fire is a good coping mechanism? Especially since you’re apparently made of fire now?”

Jeno flinched, and for a moment, it felt like the old Jeno was retreating back into his shell—the one he built to protect himself from all the things he couldn’t face. He kicked the ground, looking at his scuffed boots. “I didn’t— It’s just…” He sighed, unable to finish the sentence.

“Jeno,” you said, voice softer now. You placed a hand on his shoulder, though he didn’t meet your eyes. “I’m serious. If you want to stay in my life. If you really care about me at all. You need to get help. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Jeno glanced up at you, his usually cocky demeanor replaced with something a little more vulnerable. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve messed up. And I promised you I’d get better. But—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re right. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to lose you.”

You took a deep breath, your frustration dissipating just slightly. The old, familiar bond you shared was still there, tangled in with the new, raw emotions. You nodded, but added with a small, teasing smirk, “If you ever try to pop a pill in front of me again, I’ll use you as a lightning rod. Got it?”

Jeno gave a half-laugh, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Got it. No more pills. Just the occasional dramatic motorcycle crash for old time’s sake.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s so much better,” you deadpanned. “But seriously, Jeno, I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself first. I won’t watch you burn up from the inside out.”

He met your gaze, the flicker of sincerity in his eyes making you pause. “I’ll try, Y/N. I swear. I’m tired of hurting myself—and you.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of the conversation settle into your bones. “Good. And, uh, while we’re on the subject—if you ever want to not be on fire for five seconds, I’ve got these new gauntlets that could help with the whole ‘literal fire hazard’ thing. Maybe we should figure out how to duplicate them.”

Jeno’s eyes flicked to the gauntlets you were still holding, raising an eyebrow. “You think those are going to keep me from turning into a human torch?”

“Well, they won’t stop you from being a hot mess,” you quipped, “but they might help with the literal hot mess part. Try them on. See if they can cool you off. But give them back, I don’t wanna electrocute you later.”

Jeno chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else.” He pulled the gauntlets on with a shrug. They fit perfectly, “Better than getting burned alive, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” you said with a small smile. “See? We’re making progress.”

He gave a small, half-smile in return. “One step at a time.”

The first few days after the chaos in the factory felt like the world had hit the pause button. You were still grappling with the full weight of what had happened—the fight, Karina’s departure, and the truth about your powers. But more than that, you were trying to figure out how to not burn down the nearest building while you practiced controlling your mutant abilities.

Your bedroom had turned into an impromptu testing ground for your electrical powers, and you were starting to actually feel like a walking lightning rod now. The first time you accidentally zapped the toaster, you almost burned down the kitchen. It’s fine, you told yourself. I’ll just keep a fire extinguisher in every room.

"Okay, just breathe," you muttered, staring at the lamp in front of you. Your hands crackled with electrical energy. "Focus. You’re not going to fry this lamp into oblivion. You’ve got this."

The lamp flickered. Then, with a sudden snap, it exploded in a burst of light.

"Okay, maybe not. Plan B: Try not to set anything on fire this time," you groaned, rubbing your forehead. You glanced at the charred remnants of your lamp. Great. I’m a walking disaster.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Jeno was wrestling with his own set of issues. His recovery wasn’t as simple as just kicking a habit. It was as if his very soul had to unlearn years of reckless behavior and self-destruction. And while he was committed to getting better, you had a sneaking suspicion that his journey would involve more than a few missteps along the way.

You walked into the living room, where Jeno was sitting on the couch, staring at a glass of water like it held the answers to all of life’s problems.

"How’s it going, big guy?" you asked, leaning in the doorway.

Jeno glanced up and sighed dramatically. "I’m just sitting here, contemplating the universe. You know, the usual."

"Right. The deep, soul-searching kind of contemplation." You gave him a pointed look. "Or are you trying to convince yourself that water can’t be addictive?"

He shot you a dry look. "Very funny. But no, I’m actually just trying to make sure I don’t relapse into firing up my bike for no reason."

You raised an eyebrow. "And that’s going well, I assume?"

"Actually," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "I’m being good. No fire, no bike stunts, just... boring old rehab."

"Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way to be extra dramatic about it. It’s your brand."

Jeno smirked, the hint of his old self shining through. "Yeah, well, I’m trying to unbrand myself."

You chuckled. "Good luck with that. I’m pretty sure the Ghost Rider brand is hard to shake."

Jeno exhaled through his nose, rubbing his forehead. "I hate that name."

You threw your hands up. "What? It’s catchy!"

"Catchy? It sounds like I’m auditioning for a cheesy horror movie," he grumbled.

"But the cool demon guy gave you it."

Jeno gave you a playful glare. "And he wants me to exterminate every sinful person in this world, so is he really ‘cool’?"

You shrugged, smiling. "I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall into your bad habits again. Humor is the only thing that gets me through this madness."

Jeno stared at you, a mix of amusement and sincerity on his face. "Thanks, Y/N. Really. I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You softened, though you couldn’t resist throwing in a final jab. "Probably set something on fire, knowing you."

"Don’t tempt me," Jeno warned with a grin.

"Okay, okay," you relented, holding up your hands. "I’ll stop. But hey, how about we both try and figure this out without burning anything down, deal?"

Jeno looked at you, a little more serious now. "Deal."

And so, you began this new chapter, with a growing sense of purpose. You and Jeno were both trying to reclaim control over your lives, and though it wasn’t easy, it was at least a little bit more bearable with each other’s help.

As for you, well, you still had a lot to learn about controlling your powers. But you figured you could start small, maybe with not blowing up your appliances. After all, if you could survive your own chaotic life, maybe saving the world wasn’t that far out of reach.

The night was cool, but the air still carried the buzz of the day’s chaos. The city sprawled out before you, lights flickering in the distance, the world oblivious to the storm that had just passed through. You and Jeno stood side by side in the parking lot, where the remnants of your battle and struggles were already fading into the distance.

Jeno’s bike sat next to you, the engine idling with that low growl that had always gotten your heart racing—before you knew all the trouble it would bring. You felt the familiar charge in the air as your hands crackled with electric energy, but it was different now. Controlled.

“Well, this is... weird,” you said, tapping the side of your gauntlets and watching the sparks dance around your fingertips.

Jeno shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, you being the dangerous one now. What’s next? You’re gonna start taking over the world?"

You rolled your eyes. “World domination? Please. I’ll start with not burning down my apartment.”

Jeno gave you a knowing look. “One step at a time, right?”

He mounted his bike and revved the engine, the sound echoing through the empty streets. You followed suit, stepping onto the back of his bike with a practiced ease that only came from years of friendship—and more than a few questionable decisions. 

As Jeno revved the engine again, you looked at the skyline one last time, feeling the electric hum of your powers simmer beneath your skin.

"You know," Jeno said, breaking the silence as his hand gripped the handlebars tighter, "I think I’ve got a name for you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no. I’m not falling for this again."

"No, seriously. You need a name," he insisted, glancing at you with that same cocky grin. "Surge. It fits. You’ve got the whole ‘electricity’ vibe going on."

You stared at him for a moment, and then—after a deep, soul-searching pause—let out a dramatic sigh. “Surge? Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said with a shrug, clearly pleased with himself. "It’s got that ‘superhero’ ring to it."

You immediately shoved him lightly, making him almost lose his balance. "Shut up, Jeno. That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard."

“Come on, it’s not that bad!” he protested, his laughter echoing in the night. "Alright, alright, we’ll work on it. But you can’t deny it—Surge has a nice ring to it."

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Just drive, Jeno. You’re lucky I’m not zapping you off this bike right now.”

“Okay, okay, you win.” Jeno started the bike and, with a final glance toward the horizon, sped off into the night, the flames of his chain lighting up the road ahead.

The wind whipped through your hair, the flames of Ghost Rider and the crackling electricity of your powers illuminating the streets as you rode side by side. The world still had its dangers, but right now, the night felt endless. 

“Like would our ship name be Surge Rider or Ghur—”

“Shut the fuck up and drive.”

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[leftneb]

Curiositas aka sirens!AU

in which Lando is a siren with species dysphoria and Oscar is the defintion of Just Some Guy, who happens to get caught up in Lando's mess. and obviously they fall in love along the way etc etc

I first posted about this idea over 2 months ago and I'm happy to announce that there is now a fic in the works!!! which will likely take at least another 2 months because goddamn the concept outgrew itself (as you can tell by the fact charles and max also, like, exist now) it's sitting at ~8k words rn, which is by far the longest thing I've ever written in my life already, but story isn't even close to being finished, so yeah it'll take a while lmao

for now though I have some character designs and lots of thoughts, which I'd like to share :3

ramblings about their individual designs and details below the cut!!

and massive thank you to my dear partner @lailau7904 for not only holding my hand through writing the fic so far but somehow being even more insane about this whole AU than I am???

LANDO

main character (and POV holder) his design isn't based on any real fish, closest resemblance is to a fake fishing lure (reference provided)

very little scarring despite sirens' hunting culture, some tiny cuts and scratches around the top of his tail from smuggling pretty stones and shards of glass

absurdly bright green scales (I really could've made him fluorescent but I think that would be overkill) which is absurdly shit for stealth purposes but good for catching the attention of potential victims

vague triangle shape language but in a semi-elegant way

doesn't eat fish and would rather not eat human either

MAX

fills the position of a leader in his and Lando's colony, inherited the role in his late teens but grew up to it pretty quickly

shark motif, all sharp and angular shapes, visibly intimidating

lots of scars collected during hunts, wounds covered over by red scales from Charles

his scales are pretty dark but they shine blue when the light hits them just right (plus Charles' scales are a bright red lmao, which is a bit suboptimal for stealth but he thinks it's worth it)

CHARLES

koi fish motif, soft and round shapes

no scarring at all

has known Max since they were kids but actually didn't meet Lando until their 20s despite Max and Lando being childhood best friends

considered legally dead by monegasque officials (this has lore reasons which I'm not about to spoil)

GENERAL NOTES

the AU plays in a modern setting, altough sirens are very behind on human technology

their gills are on the side of their ribs! they can also all breathe with their lungs above water

funky scales patterns on their torsos around "modified" areas such as their gills and back fin

they have no hands but don't let that fool you! I was simply too lazy to draw any, what you would see if I did draw them tho would include:

webbing between fingers!! matches the colour of fins

longer, and more solid, claw-like nails

wrinkled palms and fingertips

I really wanted to make Max and Charles' torsos more life accurate but could not be arsed, they all have Lando's body type, aka I've accidentally twinkified Charles and Max lmao

by now you might have noticed that there's no design for Oscar, and as much as I really want to make a siren design for him that would have some pretty heavy lore implications so I'm... hesitant to do so

other people on my sirenification waiting list are:

George Russell and Alex Albon (for the 2019 rookies circle to be complete)

Franco Colapinto (based purely off vibes)

the whole grid really god I'm so ill

for the record Logan is a human in this AU but he IS present fuck you James Vowles

you may have also noticed the papaya version I labeled as McLaren themed (this one is also the highest quality image I have in this thread if you're gonna do any zooming in please do it on this one,,,,)

all throughout writing and drawing I couldn't help but think about another banger siren!Lando fic: Salt Skin by @strawberry-daiquiris! in which Lando has orange slash papaya scales, which I just had to draw honestly

a lot of my design process was also inspired by a piece by @dumbf1sketches (it's somewhere in the pile of other gorgeous art in that post)

bonus underwater version of all of them because it wasn't bright enough for me to feel good about it being at the top but it's still like, the main colour example to my brain

TAGLIST(S)

AU @mintraindrop @cx-boxbox (I know the og post is from actual ages ago but you two were interested so I humbly offer you these crumbs)

ART @santongkabayo @cyclonixi @alto-the-avocado @loquarocoeur

people that put up with my ramblings on dc @lyslsstuff @peppysinc @girlrussell

[duskier]

Werewolf AU / fat hairy werewolf gf x poly!141 idea rambling in honor of the art by @littlebit-of-art ♡

|| okokok werewolf lore is always varied but I love the idea of like. shift at will werewolves, but they have forced shifts during the full moon where they get all primal and stuff... thinking about the 141 in the woods, in hiding from bad guys, getting cabin fever and impatient as hell. Pissed that Laswell has benched them (though understanding she has legitimate reasons why)

Soap finds you first, middle of the night. Well, you find him, actually. He was just sneaking out for a cigarette, went alone because he didn't want to share- his pack was running low. You're a tall creature when shifted, much too large to be excusably identified as a wolf. It's the full moon, so the 'you' isn't all there- moreso your hindbrain, your dumb dog of a wolf self. Of course *she* makes a beeline towards Soap after smelling him in the air, first human you'd seen in years- he thinks he's about to get mauled to death but is pleasantly surprised when he sees your tail wagging and you're nudging him to come play with you.

The rest of the squad looks at Soap like he's nuts when he comes by with you in tow, the "can we keep it?" look on his face. Ghost has half a mind to shoot you, no matter how damned cute you looked flopping over on your back, your primal way of telling the group you were friendly.

Price knows you're something strange, not a normal wolf. After some bickering between Soap and Price ("He looks cold :("..."it's a wild fucking animal, Sergeant") you're allowed to curl up on the couch in the den of the cabin, just in front of the fire. The wood of the furniture squeaks under your weight, reassuring Price you wouldn't be sneaking anywhere at night without him noticing.

...But come morning time, when you are you again- human, that is- Price is left speechless. Who was this beautiful, stark naked woman, and why was she on the couch? Where'd the wolf thing go? Poor man, fighting his urges to look you up and down over and over until he'd memorized every silky furry curve, the soft pout of your lips...

After an embarrassing wake up call, a lot of screaming and scrambling, you were sat in an oversized blanket wrapped around you and explaining who and what exactly you were to the 141. You appreciated the warm place to sleep in, so you offer them a deal- let you move in, you'll hunt for them in your wolf form. Easy enough.

What you never could have expected was how much you would become attached to the team. It starts off small, them getting used to your large wolf form- Gaz gives you a scratch behind your ear once in a while. Then it becomes so common for you to rest on him that when he sees you, he wordlessly clears his lap, a perfect resting spot for your head. Soap asks to draw you once, then it becomes a natural thing and he's a sudden canine anatomy expert in weeks, half his sketchbook filled with you- human and otherwise. Price checks in on you, worries over you and waits up every night that you're out late hunting for them. Reminds you not to push yourself, you've stocked them plenty for winter, as he wipes your bloody maw clean with a towel before bed. Ghost gets annoyed at your limp from stickers caught in your paws, but then it becomes a daily ritual for him to groom you all over, pulling out annoyances caught in your fur or paws.

...That's just when you're in your wolf form. When you're in your human form, the men are all just as sweet, if not sweeter. Price finds an old record player, teaches you to dance to the music. Revels in the feeling of pulling your soft body close, hands lovingly caressing every inch of your body as you sway in time, your pretty head resting on his chest. He becomes quickly besotted by the feeling of your arms under his hands, the silky hair covering inch of your skin making him just mad with affection and want. Soap makes even more portraits- drawings with harsh and soft lighting, never wanting you to ever hide your body in the ways you'd been taught to previously. Can't stop raining down compliments on you the entire time, as if every five minutes he's blown away once more at your beauty. Doesn't miss a single tuft of hair, a single bit of your body. Gaz who finds every way he can make you laugh because once he's heard it, once he's seen the way your laugh moves through your whole body and the way your smile lightens the room, he's like a lovesick puppy. (It becomes bad news for Soap, because nothing made you laugh quite like Gaz pranking Soap, each prank becoming more and more childish.) Ghost takes the meager rations they have- thankfully bolstered by your hunting- and makes the best warm meals you'd ever had. Makes you taste test every meal- never plated until it has your approval. Watches you with his golden brown eyes, searching for your praise.

One night, Laswell shipped them their new rations and included a bottle of bourbon, a late birthday gift for Price. 'Sorry you're still there,' a note on the bottle apologized. The team couldn't care less about being there, so focused in on you. You take turns having small shots of the liquor and end up watching the men as they excitedly share story after story with you, each wilder than the last. Price puts his big warm hand on your leg, unable to keep himself from squeezing gently. Gaz has his arm on the backrest behind you, fingers toying with your hair. Soap sits at your feet, his head on your knee, you feel his stubble against your skin whenever he speaks. It's Ghost who breaks rank first, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and telling you you're the prettiest girl he'd ever met. You blush, and he says he'd like to kiss that blush right off of you. It's slurred, it's silly, but it works, and you let him kiss you, his mask rolled up to his nose. Soap protests, then, of course, how dare he not get a kiss. You jokingly ask Gaz if he'd like one too, of course he agrees and you oblige them both, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You turn to Price, who was watching intently, eyes glittering in the firelight. "Come here, love," is all he has to say before you're crawling onto his lap and kissing him silly, the peanut buttery smell of his cigars filling your senses.

From there it's as natural as breathing to wake up in a cuddle pile, to kiss them all goodbye before going out on a hunt. For each of them to take you to bed, alone or all together or somewhere in between. They treat you like a precious thing, but never like glass- they know all too well how strong you are.

They find out even more of your capabilities when they are attacked.

Full moon, you're out hunting. Happily secure in letting your wolf side take the reins, looking for the best deer to take home for your boys when you hear a crack like a whip in the distance. You hear Soap screaming just as everything goes red for you. The primal side still in control, all it can think is that your pack was in danger. You ran faster than you ever thought possible, bulky wolf body breaking through old trees, unstoppable in your path to your mates. The men you kill in your way aren't anywhere near prepared for you, slaughtered like nothing. From your boys' perspective, you were a terrifying sight to see. Snarling and monstrous, standing on your back haunches taller than a building, soaked in blood and gore. It isn't until all enemies were silenced that you're capable of thinking anywhere clearly enough to look for your boys, make sure they were okay.

Thankfully, no one was hurt. Ignoring the mess covering you, you were sniffing and nuzzling each of them ignoring their protests in disgust, distressed whines leaving you. They weren't able to calm you that night, having to allow you to stalk a perimeter around the house all night long, daring more enemies to come. It wasn't until the next day that they found you, human form collapsed in the dirt from exhaustion. They take the time to bathe you, gently and with reverence, grateful for both your life and their own. Softening your skin with lotions and oils after, wrapping you in their nicest blankets and surrounding you in a giant cuddle pile so that when you awoke, you'd feel safe.

And you do. You can't imagine life without your boys.

[cheecats]

For the tf2 wc crossover/au it looks like the blue team cats are skinnier, did I miss the bit why? It’s a fun little tidbit that has me 👀 at the hint of lore

Also huge fan of that au in general it’s so funny/great

Hell yeah thank you so much! I didn't go much into why, but yes — most of Blueclan's (BLU team) cats are skinner (with a few exceptions I'll mention.) Initially it was more reasoning in my head, but I'll try explain my thoughts

It's a silly AU and everything is silly. There is a distinct lack of clan heritage and culture we see in the books. It is purely two clans comprised of rogues because Redstar and Bluestar (Redmond and Blutarch) are assholes with no friends or family with a massive territory left to them to split 50/50. As per canon, they're stupid about it and both gather up a clan of rogues to steal the land off each other.

As it stands, Redclan (RED Team) occupy most of the land, whereas Blueclan live on the outskirts. This is to play on the Attack/Defense roles the teams play in the game. Redclan are more aggressive in strategy as a general rule. They defend their borders mercilessly, while Blueclan constantly attempt to attack their camps and take patches of land back... and ultimately wish to take all the territory for themselves too. So it's not really like the Sunningrocks with Riverclan and Thunderclan with heritage vs survival. Neither Blueclan or Redclan are entitled to shit. They're both assholes. Neither clan is right and they're just trying to kill each other.

But basically because of this massive difference in territory size, Blueclan live up in the colder areas. There's less prey, they are mostly thinner than their Redclan counterparts, and have thicker pelts. Also irrelevant but they tend to sleep closer together, whereas Redclan's members just keep apart.

Now for exceptions to this rule! Raccoontrot (BLU Soldier) and Mistmask (BLU Spy) are roughly the same size as their Redclan counterparts (although Mistmask is just naturally smaller/weighs less than Smokeface (RED Spy).) Reasons? Raccoontrot is friends with Sparkloch (RED Demoman), the two visiting each other in secret frequently. Sparkloch brings prey for Raccoontrot each time they visit, and it's honestly suspicious to Blueclan why Raccoontrot seems fine with the lack of food around. Mistmask is also fine because he hunts and steals prey CONSTANTLY from Redclan territory. He's hard to stop because he can mask his scent, and is exceptionally sneaky: if you don't catch him in the act, you'd never know he was there. The scratch on Dingospot's (RED Sniper) face was from the one time he caught Mistmask stealing and the two squared up. That's the only track record they have to know what he's up to.

So in conclusion, I do be out here overthinking this silly AU and I hope everyone enjoyed B))

[antimony-medusa]

This is just me rambling about fandom trends cause I wanted to inflict it on my timeline instead of people's DMS.

Okay so I kinda stopped reading SBI for a while, except for my especial subscriptions (got burned out on tommy-centric), and then I got invited into a friend server with a bunch of new young writers and dipped my toe back into what's going on in the genre. Staring around the room like "what's happened while I was buried in a spreadsheet? Oh my."

And it has been FASCINATING.

First of all like, there's just like, a lot of Dark SBI, to the point that it seems like more than when I last checked? Which I don't have a problem with, but it's always very interesting to me because that seems very much like a reaction to fandom trends, more than canon? Like people get tired of a certain dynamic (foster aus! good dad phil! exploration of canon!) and decide they want something else. And what they want is kidnapping, which like. That's an honourable tradition in fiction, o7. Seems like a lot of kidnapping to me, but you do you.

Also, on the other side of the coin, there's also a lot of tooth-rotting-fluff, similarly focused in on like— okay like a lot of that was crimeboys, which is a canon dynamic, but once you add in the pet names and like, platonic kissing, that's not streamer dynamic either, that's a new third thing which is made up by the fandom. Neither of those boys are that open about their emotions, you made that one up. This isn't canon-compliant OR RPF, it's a secret third thing.

Like I can't stress enough that this characterization, in the trends taken as a whole, is neither drawn from canon nor from non-lore streamer, this is something else entirely. Tommy is very sad and baby and cries a lot, and Techno looms and doesn't make jokes and calls people "runt" a lot, and Wilbur is very clingy (and emotionally intelligent in the fluff and sometimes for evil reasons in the dark)— phil doesn't tend to get much characterization except sometimes murder, which honestly I cheer on whole-heartedly.

It just seems to me that this is very much fandom reaction to fandom? Like it's fic in conversation with other fic and other characterizations and filling in the gaps with other fic. Like, I wouldn't be surprised if a bunch of these writers don't follow the streamers and don't watch their ongoing content, and don't go back to the lore streams either. It's just all recursive fic. And I'm not saying that as a bad thing, just as a thing that makes me go Oooo, huh. Look at that.

Which is interesting to me as we look at not getting more DSMP content in the future, to see if we end up with a self-sustaining little fandom engine cause for me (techno-centric), I'm not getting any more lore content, but for some of this fandom (subscribed to a bunch of writers who post once a week) they're getting new content about their blorbos all the time. Their blorbos that again, I have to stress, were made up by the fandom and have minimal relationship to the streamers or the lore.

Okay and that is all stuff that makes sense to me— it's fic of fic, it's responding to fic trends, characterization has drifed from the source text and settled into a fanon canon. Now we get into the thing that makes me go ???????

Which is that everyone seems to be doing father-son relationships now? And not really Dadza, which at least I'm like, okay, sometimes phil is dad-like specifically to tommy, but Dadbur and Dadnoblade? Which makes me go?????? Tommy gets aged down to like 9-14 or something, so he's sad baby, and then techno or wilbur is a nebulous Adult, and then they have either a dark or a joyous found family moment with cuddles in.

And okay I've been hanging out over in emduo-centric and broad-dsmp-cast with dips into hermitcraft, I full on record-scratched when I hit technodad for the first time.

APPERANTLY, I hear from other people, dadbur stories just spiked through the roof after the utah ending, which made me go???? I guess the idea is that you could walk away from a brotherly relationship but not from a parental relationship? Which uh, as someone who's seen what happens in the bad dad phil tag I hate to break it to you, but, anyways, you do you.

And if there's dadbur, they have to get techno in with that. Guys there is so much technodad now. It's bedrock bros but they're not bros any more. Tommy is baby and Techno takes care of him. Serious dad technoblade.

And the best theory I have for what's happening is that this is twitter-driven, because you want that close relationship with affection, but you're realllllllly scared of anyone saying Shippping, so by making it a parental relationship you're even more platonic? It's either platonic-driven or just a need to make tommy soooooo baby and a dad will take care of him more than a brother will? But again, a dad can do that and still be platonic, where if it's just a brother that will be too much?

I can cling frantically to logic and follow a thread through to where I'm like okay, I guess that makes sense, but oh man as someone who barely even thought it made sense when people dad-coded Phil, I see Technodad and I go HEH???

Anyways, that has been my last few weeks of avoiding my deadlines by reading what the fandom babies in discord recommend. Discovering new levels of fanon characterizations and so much dad-coding. My WIPs are going well.

[overlyimmersed]

So, about my AU... Lets do this a little differently this time...

So, in light of having to rewrite my entire AU almost from scratch, I've decided I'll post parts of the timeline in chunks by season of the show as I get them rewritten. Maybe that'll make it a little more digestible over all, though it'll still be compiled on timeline page, of course.

So I guess I should probably talk a little bit about this AU, actually. I haven't really said much. That's kinda just how things have always been before. I just kind of toss the information into the void and hope someone finds it. But this fandom, this community, it's different. There's a lot more...talking, then other fandoms I've been in. So lets talk.

I suppose we'll start with the name? Some of you may have seen me use it a few times. Years ago I got into the habit of using alphanumeric designations for my AUs, mainly as shorthand to help me keep track of the media the au is from, how it's altered from canon and what year I started it in, to help me keep track of time. Though this AU lacks the dating component...which was not a great idea on my part... that's a flaw that came about form my previous hyperfixation. I created too many AUs for that one, which I usually don't, so I started using a symbol system as a subcategory and it fricked the whole system...

ANYWAY

This AU is designated "SDS-RBF-215*" SDS = Seven Deadly Sins, RBF = Reborn Fairy, and 215 is my numeric signature. The asterisk is from the symbol system mentioned above. Which is technically necessary, as I do have off-shoot AUs from this primary one. But those are private cuz they're dumb...

So I suppose if this AU were going to have a title rather than a designation it would be "Reborn Fairy".

It's called that because the POV character, a self-insert OC, is reincarnated from another universe.

And on that note I'd like the record to show that I made this choice before I knew about Elizabeth. Reincarnation is one of my most used tropes. I'd also like to mention that I didn't know the word "isekai" until very recently...

So besides this new MC, what exactly is different between this AU and canon?

Well, not including the story consequences of the MC's existence, I did add some lore and stuff. Primarily the concept of "The Bard to the Fairy King"

Each Fairy King has had a bard alongside him to serve as a history keeper, moral guide, and any other role the Fairy King requires. These bards are always born in the Fairy King's Forest, rather than in the Fairy Realm proper like other fairies. The primary mission of The Bard to The Fairy King- or Fairy King’s Bard, sometimes shortened to just Fairy Bard- is to keep the history of the Fairy Race. They write books, tell stories, sing songs and create works of art keeping track of history as it passes. Like how each Fairy King has the magical ability “Disaster”, Fairy Bards always have “Starlight” giving them a flawless memory and the ability to generate and manipulate silvery light. It's primarily used to project records of memories, though it can be used offensively if needed. They also share a single special technique that’s passed from one to the next, a song called “Song of the Fairy King” which will increase the Fairy King’s power in an act of desperation. It can also be used to save the Fairy King’s life if need be. The use of this spell expends the Bard’s life force, and thus can only be used once. So the Bard must act wisely. As time went on and more unfortunate events tarnished Fairy history, the Bards became more and more high strung and anxious, plagued by their perfect recall of tragic and violent events. Fairy Bards Morvydd - The Bard to Fairy King Gloxinia. Primarily a poet. She, and her twin brother Owain, were killed in the raid on Stigma headquarters during the first Holy War. Camellia - The Bard to Fairy King Dahlia. Primarily a dancer. When Dahlia disappeared, Camellia went with him, at some point she used “Song of the Fairy King” to save Dahlia’s life. Maranwe - The Bard to Fairy King Harlequin. Primarily a harpist. A very unusual fairy with a complicated history. She left with a group of other fairies to meet with humans and was thought dead for 700 years before she, along with her missing Fairy King, returned just before the second Holy War. 

I've also applied my various headcanons, of course. Which can be read here. I'm not going to list them on this post cuz I don't want to have keep more than one post updated everytime I add a headcanon. The one linked will always be kept up-to-date.

[get-rammed]

Ok this has been on my mind for a few days now, and I’m really curious:

If a young child were to go up to one to the animatronics cause something had frightened them, and they automatically clung onto them as a safety response (aka their leg), what would they do?

(Include EVERYONE, even the “dead” ones (Foxy and Bonnie)👀)

This is with the assumption they're safe and not dealing with the corrodding code.

----

Golf Monty - He's had this happen a number of times. Monty's Wild Golf is a dark area with loud music and gator noises. He gets it. Getting down on their level and letting them cling to him till their parents come get them, or he calms them down. Showing them the area is fun, and not scary.

Glamrock Monty - He would be...suprised. He hasn't had a child come to him for safety in almost a year. If he could cry, he'd be fighting back tears. Just gently pat their head and ask them what scared them, so he can show them how to stand up strong against that thing.

---

Freddy - This is a daily occurrence for him. He interacts with the guests the most, and has seen a lot of scared kids. Sometimes of him lmao.

But if a child runs up to him and clings to his leg, he's very careful as he crouches down. Soothing voice as he asks them what has frighented them.

---

Chica - She hasn't had it happen super often, but she usually picks the kid up right away in case they're running from someone. All cheery and positive vibes as she tries to show the kid everything is okay. Make them laugh if she's able.

---

Bonnie - The kids were always climbing on him, and it was mildly annoying, but he'd never show that to the kids. He was pretty good at telling if a kid was genuinely scared of something or not. Crouching and letting them play with his ears or jacket to calm them down. Usually seeking out his Handler to ensure the kid is properly taken care of.

---

Roxanne - This holds true for either Roxy.

---

Foxy - He would scoop the kid upright away, asking them what dared to scare his crew mate. All boisterous and brave. He'll give the kid a lil pirate or cowboy hat and walk around with them till they're okay again. He tries to keep kids away from his legs because he's nervous they could get under foot.

---

Eclipse - Is pretty rarely out around the kids. So he doesn't know what to do and will force Sun out to deal with it.

Sun - Keep them to his leg as it's softer than the rest of him, and just try and figure out what's wrong. Gently coaxing out answers and such. Seeing how he can help.

Moon - It's pretty common for him to have kids coming to him during nap time if they can't sleep. He usually soothes them and let's them sleep somewhere nearby as laying on him isn't the most comfortable.

---

DJMM - Will freeze up, and have either of his Handlers come figure out what's wrong, or have one of the mini music men go in and get the child away from his legs. He doesn't want to speak and scare them worse, so the best he can do is soft gentle song till someone else can come and figure out how to help.

[quincywillows]

OKAY guess who’s back, back again, now diving into the even more dense questions you sent.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

this is a hefty one that’s just asking for trouble with my overwriting ass lol. but where to even begin... for starters my “current” WIP is an open-ended question because i have like, 7 running stories going at any given time hahaha. in fact in my notion page that i keep all my story notes in, i currently have about 11 of the 14 set to “brainstorm” or “outlining” in some capacity 🤪 this is one thing i’ve got as a goal for this year is trying to decide which projects will become my priority kickstart ones as ambition comes to a close with season 5 and i officially fully transition to working on building my original content hub. for now, i guess i’ll just throw a couple out there!

(putting remaining answers under a read more to spare people’s dashboards, but if you wanna see what’s cooking in maggie’s insane brain oven, click away):

the one that has been front of mind most recently is center of the universe, which very keen maggie-lore fans may know vaguely as a long-time ago au i had created that was kind of like... the 100 esque space-to-earth sci-fi small ensemble driven world. after reading the actual first book of the 100 (one of my favorite tv shows of all time for the record) and realizing... it’s really all just a romance, i decided what’s stopping me from writing COTU as a series on its own merits and so i’ve scrubbed it to start from relative scratch, sans the major plot arcs i had created, to make it into its own book series. so right now the minutia of that project is solely on worldbuilding, because creating a sci-fi lore is no easy feat -- i’m focusing on building a theoretical history of this interstellar space community of about 300 - 400 years, plus a bit of pre-history to what happened on earth before that launch, plus companion lore to what was going on back one earth during all that time (since the mains return to it as the crux of the first book). not to mention crafting the sociology and societal details of a space entity that merged people from multiple nations hundreds of years ago -- how would that affect culture? how much would that merge into a unified culture with no land borders to draw distinctions? how does language meld? what remnants of those original cultures bleed into the present, much in the way cultural norms and glimmers from centuries ago bleed into our present day? -- alongside building the new culture of the space station based on its own sociopolitical and economic hierarchies (i’m designing the actual layout of the station right now, and that is so much fun). doing all of this has really reinvigorated my creativity in the last couple weeks, so i’m very grateful about that!

on a standalone note, i’ve been slowly brainstorming a standalone novel known as for the life of, which features our protagonist (who at first doesn’t realize she’s on the line between life and death) working her way through the levels of purgatory to go back to the real world because she knows there’s something there waiting for her even though, at the beginning, she doesn’t even remember her own name or that she’s necessarily a human being. the present plot of her marching through the afterlife to get back home (wherever that is) is intercut with chapters that feature snippets from her life before whatever sent her to purgatory, giving us the chance to meet characters from her real world (who, of course, inform and represent concepts and characters in the afterlife). this idea was partially inspired by a fic i wrote years ago that gave me the basic premise (inspired by a honne song lol, so shoutout to them... kings), as well as a very vivid and memorable dream i had a couple years ago that gave me the inciting incident to set this version of it into motion. it’s extremely fun getting to flesh out what the logistics and aesthetics of each level of purgatory are like, what tests the character has to face to both pass through that level but also regain elements of their humanity and memory in the process (kind of allowing me to explore the question of what makes a human a human? which i love because i’m such a psych and philosophy nut lol), and how she is able to proceed... this project is different because it’s less specifically character-driven and more conceptual than many of my works, but that’s part of what makes it really exciting to work on i think! nice change of pace

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

hopefully someday we’ll be able to do the spicy version of this question and passages will be available from my writing for you to want to parse through... but hmm. i’ll share one from quincy willows, book 1, since that’s the only novel that is fully packaged and (somewhat) ready to roll

Quincy Willows

As the days tick onward and their stress grows, Jonah makes a habit of repeating the facts.

Fact: The history of Quincy Willows has been rewritten to cover up big mistakes.

Fact: The person who drained the forest the first time is doing it again and still walks innocuously among them.

(In some ways, that provides Jonah a small relief. If it’s the same perpetrator, then it’s highly unlikely to be one of his classmates, including Cassie or Xavier. He supposes it could be a family affair and they’re aiding in round two, but he opts not to think about it).

Fact: Farah Abbasi was close to the truth, close enough that something or someone was willing to kill her for it.

Fact: The forest decay has huge consequences for everyone.

More nymphs stop showing up to school, once students return after the dark spirit fumigation. Jonah and Taj eavesdrop for almost a half an hour as Sharon laments the amount of nymphs and dryads they’ve had come into the emergency clinic—so many that the staff is having trouble meeting the demand. Taj gets Moe to recount stories from the first time this happened, and they learn that the decay made people not quite themselves. Crime increased, and the number of physical altercations skyrocketed. Jonah watches people closely as he passes them in the halls to see if that trend is reemerging. Everyone seems more on edge, but he can’t tell whether it’s due to the dying forest or just a natural result of the stressful situation they’re all trying to ignore. There’s so much life in the forest that will suffer if they fail. Archie showed him that well enough.

Jonah can’t stop thinking about it, particularly when he’s with Elsie. Today, they’re cramped together in the dim technician’s booth, waiting for Xavier so they can craft a game plan. It’s impressive she’s still at school at all. When he stands too close, he can feel heat radiating off of her like a fever. The bags under her eyes are more pronounced than ever. She’s powering through, but it’s clear the decay is taking its toll. She’s wasting away, and it feels like there’s nothing he can do about it.

“You’re gawking,” she states flatly.

He clears his throat. “What?”

“No, please, stare more.” Elsie lifts her gaze, unimpressed expression drilling into him. “Maybe if you stare hard enough, all that pity will somehow make its way into my bloodstream and miraculously cure me.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

She closes the textbook with a sigh. “I know, Jonah. I know you mean well.”

He may mean well, but that’s sure doing them a load of good. He doesn’t know what to say, so he simply nods.

It’s her turn to stare, attempting to figure him out as he avoids eye contact and swivels idly in his chair. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

Jonah meets her eyes uncertainly.

“What’s happening to me. With the forest.” Elsie releases another sigh, letting her eyes flutter closed. “You don’t have to carry it like it’s your problem. It’s not. Your communion with the undead confirmed that much.”

He wishes it was that easy to believe. Maybe it feels like his responsibility because everyone has been blaming him since he arrived. Or maybe it’s because he’s always had this complex—this deep, gnawing compulsion to protect. He cannot fathom the possibility that the worst happens when he has the means to try to stop it.

“Jonah,” Elsie says softly. Exhaustion aside, he’s never seen her features so gentle. “It’s not your fault.”

All he manages is a weak smile before the booth door creaks open and Xavier slips inside.

Elsie’s tenderness is gone in seconds. “Well, look who finally decided to show up!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Xavier mutters, marching in and dropping his backpack. “Wong pulled me into his office at the end of physics. I could not get out of there. That on top of the fact that Coach Nuge was totally feral in gym today. I swear, it’s like he’s trying to kill me.”

Jonah frowns. “Wong? What did he want with you?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Xavier holds his arms out. “I could not tell you what the meeting was about. He kept doing that whole ‘but how are you feeling, Xavier, how are you really feeling’ thing. As if he’s suddenly going to make some grand change in my pathetic existence—”

Elsie’s brow furrows. “If Wong is pulling you aside without clear cause, that can’t be good. He must sense we’re onto something. If he thinks we’re getting close to answers, he might be trying to stall us.”

It doesn’t seem like a perfect explanation, but Jonah can’t deny there’s evidence. “He did try to keep us out of the booth to stop us from meeting before. And he was there the second time I heard those voices in the faculty lounge.”

“Which he would have access to.”

“And Farah said the decay was caused by someone who was here the first time.” Xavier taps his chin thoughtfully. “Hence, it’s likely not a student, except maybe a vampire, but it could be him. Wong was still in high school.”

Jonah rubs his temple. “But we’re not completely sure.”

“We’re not completely sure about anything,” Else gripes. “But we can’t afford to be hesitant, not until we get the decay under control.”

“If only we had a clue how to do that.” Xavier sighs as he leans back against the electrical cabinet, rubbing his face. “Elsie, you’re connected to it.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, captain obvious.”

Jonah can see that Xavier is fatigued, too. It’s hard to see them so worn down. He hardly has enough strength for himself, but he wishes he could give some to them. He’d much rather keep their genius minds going.

“You’re basically a liaison for it,” Xavier prods. “Can’t you sense it and like, get it to tell you what’s going on?”

Elsie holds out her hands. “What, you want me to speak for the trees? What do you think I am, the Lorax?”

so this scene is one of my small favorites from QW (which is an 120k+ novel lol, book 1 and already an epic which is perhaps why no agents wanted to touch it 😌), which occurs around the second-third of the book. we’re deep in the thick of the main mystery, jonah our protagonist and two allies clearly trying to puzzle out how to solve things, but what i love about it is the gentle humanity that exists between elsie and jonah. in the first half of the book, they’re not especially friendly (they’re lab partners, and elsie finds him particularly vexing above all else as the new kid who is so clueless), but this scene developed as a chance for us to see that they have developed a bond in the course of events. elsie is a tough cookie typically, but she makes the first move to extend kindness and reassurance to jonah completely unprompted, which is a statement all its own that she does care. and we get glimpses of jonah’s character here too -- reiteration of his overprotective instincts, his habit of taking on the weight of everyone else, his continuing empathy -- so there’s a lot packed into a relatively brief exchange. those are the kind of character and relationship moments i live for as a writer, so i felt like it was a good example to pull from QW.

not to mention, it features some good character banter at the end there, which i also cannot resist employing in my work hehe. ugh i really love QW i can’t wait for y’all to get to experience it someday

for the writing questions 13, 17 and 18 also you're literally one of my favourite writers

hello hello rae!! thank you for sending some qs and thank you doubly triply as much for the lovely compliment... you legit don't know how much that means to me to hear that 💖 hopefully in the near-ish future there will be more original content of mine to enjoy beyond just aaa!

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

ohh that's a good one... very thought-provoking. i don't necessarily immediately think of any topic as off-limits, but i am definitely very very picky about whether i think i am equipped to tackle a topic or not. one of my biggest pet peeves in media is when a sensitive subject matter is handled with absolutely zero nuance (or for shock value on top of that -- see 90% of sexual assault on tv or the gross pattern of romanticizing abuse in novels these days), so if i am going to tackle a deeper subject matter, you can bet i'll be doing as much research as i can to write it as nuanced as possible. generally speaking though, i would say i'm up for most challenges -- as long as i have a good character vehicle to ride the subject matter through with, i think you'll find a good story. as for what is easy? that would definitely be anxiety / mental health -- it would be incredible to find a piece of work of mine that doesn't include those themes in some capacity if not as a major piece of characterization LOL.

i'll answer 17 & 18 on a reblog of this answer so that tumblr doesn't cut me off with a character limit because those are some juicy ones lol. stay tuned!!

[ask-beeping-boy]

(( Lore tidbit I wanna mention before I get back to asks and such tomorrow: Keith being a human granted angel status is why he has no wings. He’s the lowest rank angel there is, (besides fallen angels,) and because he keeps messing around on earth with.., sometimes questionable morality, he likely will never reach a higher rank or get any wings ))

(( that’s also why he looks so human all the time— His dad, 🅱️apa Blessed, just uses a human-like form often. (Which is why he has no visible wings on his back when I draw him, just on his halos.) Keith, on the other hand? That’s just what he looks like. He has no wacky “true angel” form ))

[sanctum-of-ramshackle]

Do We Have a Deal?

TWST AU: An MC/Yuu from Hazbin Hotel

Demon Lord!MC/Yuu

[Synopsis]: In this timeline, Crowley “accidentally” summoned a demon and they now hang around NRC.

[TW]: A brief mention of MC/Yuu having intrusive thoughts of consuming human souls and flesh.

Gender Neutral MC/Yuu

[A/N]: I have been listening to Insane by Black Gryph0n (ft. Baasik) and it’s quite catchy.

First question: How did they arrived in Twisted Wonderland?

There’s an old forbidden book locked away in an enchanted glass case, hidden deep in the library to prevent students to have their hands on it. Dire Crowley, as irresponsible as he is, decided to open the case just for curiosity.

Trein spotted him and warned him about what it contains. Incantations, immoral rituals, harmful spells, the list goes on. (Don’t ask me how he knows. All I can say he’s way old to know what’s dangerous.) After being warned, Crowley still continues to possibly doom everyone’s lives.

He got the book and flips through the pages containing cryptic symbols and eerie messages written from the previous writer. Then he finds one page that caught his masked eyes.

[Pg. 667: <The Radio Demon>]

The summoning goes by a ritual involves a secluded area, 5 candlesticks, a pentagram with symbols copied from the page, an old radio and a drop of impure blood. There’s specific instructions the reader needs to follow.

Then Crowley proceeds to perform the ritual in the Mirror Chamber. As he finishes the instructions, the floor cracks opens to reveal a figure in a sharp suit with asymmetrical deer antlers and eyes glowing eerily staring at Crowley.

“Who has summoned me and what business you have in mind~?” Their voice as if muffled through a microphone with technical problems at a radio station.

“The Radio Demon?”

*Record scratches*

Now in their actual voice. “…That’s my brother, Alastor. I’m the Static Demon.”

Yep. That’s right. They’re related to The Infamous Radio Demon.

There’s been a HUGE misunderstanding. The demon snatches the forbidden book out of Crowley’s hands and flips to their page.

[Pg. 667 <The Radio Static Demon>]

“I told that writer not to write in a candle lit room at night. Great, now I need to get this over with and finish what started.” They mumbled before turning the attention to Crowley, shadowing over the headmaster. Smiling sinisterly down at him.

“Now tell me, my fellow crow-man, do you wish to make a deal~? If you try to trick me with your human cleverness, it won’t work.”

Now Crowley screwed up. He unleashed a demon who can turn people mad. He panics and offers a deal for them to hang around while try not to cause insanity.

Static Demon!MC/Yuu was just summoned in an unfamiliar world so why not explore the place.

Also Static Demon!MC/Yuu found Grim and demands Crowley to register the feline creature in the college since they see great “potential” in him.

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: Young man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What Great Seven? I only know powerful people from Hell, and one of them is me~

[Croaks their neck to the side while smiling creepily over Ace. Static noises start deafening the First Year student’s ears.]

Ace: *Covers his ears* *Has a terrified expression and internally screaming*

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: Are we clear?

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: *Pulls out their reading glasses and reads a contract from Azul* …You boys are idiots.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim: Eh?!

Ace: You don’t have to remind us about it.

Deuce: We’re really sorry, Lord MC/Yuu…

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: You should’ve asked for my help with the exam. Not sign your will off with a grubby eight-legged mafia boss.

Trey: MC/Yuu, what do you usually eat?

Static Demon!MC/Yuu’s cannibalistic thoughts: ‘The souls/flesh of the innocence!’

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: Bagels.

Static Demon!MC/Yuu’s cannibalistic thoughts: ‘What?! No!’

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: And venison. That’s what I usually consume back home.

[(A/N): Little lore for this MC/Yuu: They try to eat less human flesh since after having access to the internet back in Hell, they got disgusted by facts of what diseases their future victims can carry.]

💫Reblogs help creators!✨

[theharrowing]

The Hooksborough Demon 🤍 5: A big black mass

You and two friends ventured into the location of an urban legend with the intention of exploring an abandoned building and having a laugh at small town lore for clout.

But after a series of mysterious events, you have turned to a forum a year later to try to piece everything together, and to find out what the fuck happened to Yoongi & Jimin.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🤍 Yoongi x Female Reader 🤍 word count: 1.8k + comments 🤍 paranormal au, urban legend au, found footage horror, gore, poly, smut, nsfw, 21+ 🤍 warnings: haunting imagery 🤍 beta read by @neoneunnajimin​ 🤍 posted jan. 2022 | read on ao3

Home / Local Legends / The Hooksborough Demon / The Hooksborough Three

27:32 - 40:01 (posted by TH3 on 01/10/2021)

Sorry for the radio silence, friends. I've been really sick, unexpectedly. Seems to be everyone has been getting sick these days.

And I am really nervous about getting into the recording today. I felt really confident about it before, but now I can't seem to hit the spacebar and make the video play. It is not even necessarily that I believe in the legend...if I am being honest, I am still not sure what I believe. 

But I have not yet seen what Yoongi claimed he saw, and, well, I am not ready to hear the sound of his screaming again. Even though it has been ingrained in my brain, burrowed deep where I cannot seem to scratch it out, the thought of hearing it again scares the shit out of me.

I guess I have to do this sooner or later, though, so...let's go.

Timestamp 27:32. We had just found the escalators. As mentioned, they appear to be intact. Yoongi is the first to approach, the light from the camcorder shining brightly enough to show the entire area. He cautiously takes a step on the bottom stair of the escalator that goes upwards before slowly walking up several more.

"Alright, you two, wave to the camera," Yoongi shouts as he turns around.

Jimin and I are maybe three feet from the bottom step, and we wave to Yoongi. Yoongi waves a hand in front of the lens too, which makes Jimin and I giggle, and then he walks back down, joining us at the top of the downward escalator. Jimin cautiously steps onto the top stair this time, holding onto the railings with both arms.

"I saw footage from China where people were falling into broken escalators to their death," Jimin says in a tone that is maybe too chipper for the subject matter. "So I'll make sure it's safe before you and hyung come down."

I remember wishing Jimin had not put that image in my mind as I took my turn, my hands feeling sweatier than usual for taking some glorified stairs. Yoongi comes down behind me, and the frame shows him panning into the lower level, first to the left, then to the right as we descend.

The lower level is similar to the main one. At the bottom of the escalators is a fountain, which was obviously off and empty. The area is big and open, and then it branches off into a long hallway to the left and the right, down which are rows of storefronts. Ahead of the escalator is a big employee-only area, with offices and a locker room, and behind the escalator is a weird little playground, with some slides and swings and rocking horses.

Timestamp 30:09. We reach the bottom of the escalators.

"Where to begin?" Jimin asks, standing with his hands on his hips.

"Straight ahead should be the employee area, and there wasn't too much activity in there aside from things disappearing," Yoongi says, "so maybe we should try the playground?"

"Playground?" I ask, as I was not aware of it at this point.

"Oh yeah," Yoongi responds. "It's kiiinda creepy."

You can hear me unzip my backpack while Yoongi and Jimin round the escalator, with Jimin in frame. I am pulling out my Polaroid camera. We do not have to walk too far before the camera is illuminating the metal structures, and both Jimin and I audibly gasp. Everything is primary colors; bright reds and yellows, bold blues. It is gaudy and almost appears to be taken from another decade—like hadn't metal playground equipment been phased out and replaced by plastic back in the 90s?

"What the fuck," you hear me say, "how come nothing I read said there was a playground in here?"

"Okay, very funny," Jimin responds.

You can hear anger in my voice when I say, "What?!" which surprised me to hear just now, and it clearly surprised them, back then; the camera whips to me, but just before that, Jimin's head is seen quickly turning toward me, as well. I remember feeling unnaturally angry, like something was seething within me and making my blood boil, despite there not actually being an issue. I was furious. In the video, you can see me looking around, seemingly feeling confused and frustrated.

"I—I don't know," I finally say. "I feel really weird, sorry. I didn't mean to snap."

"Weird how?" Yoongi asks.

"Well, for one, nothing I read said there was a playground. There was a café right here where the activity was happening. Like a kiosk. So I don't understand how suddenly it is different?"

"A kiosk?" Yoongi repeats. "Hmm, maybe our reports got mixed up somehow, because I read about a playground, and that is clearly what this is."

Suddenly, I remember feeling furious. 

"Yeah, I can see that it is a fucking playground, Yoongi. Thanks."

"Hey, y'all, let's take a breather," Jimin says, clearly upset by my change in attitude.

I did take a breather. I walked away and folded my arms over my chest, closing my eyes for a moment to try to relax. I remember feeling hot and ready to explode. I do not lose my temper quickly, so it was bizarre how easily I was pushed to the edge, especially over something so silly as this. Of course, nothing that happens down here is a misunderstanding or coincidence, but we will touch on that more another day.

While I am seething, Jimin and Yoongi are murmuring.

"What has gotten into her?" Jimin asks.

"I dunno, man, this is uncharacteristic. But it's fine; she might just be feeling anxious about being down here. I'm not taking it personally, so you shouldn't either."

Yoongi, for being the hothead he is, is always so reasonable and understanding when it comes to his friends.

"You're right," Jimin responds.

I need to pause for a moment and catch my breath. I know this is probably completely innocuous to all of you, but it is something that I am hearing for the first time, and it just. ugh. man. I really miss my friends. Also, seeing the way I begin acting at this stage is...it is weird. Unsettling.

Timestamp 34:34. I come back to the group and apologize, telling them that I am just feeling kind of anxious about being down here. Which is a little odd, considering I did not hear what Yoongi said to Jimin moments ago, until now. We really used the same wording...? 

Jimin puts his arm around my waist, and we walk to the playground, which is just a few feet in front of us, and begin to examine it. I take a couple Polaroids of the swings and slide, watching as each photo slowly exits the camera. Aside from dust and pieces of ceiling panels collecting everywhere, it looks as if kids could have just been here playing; everything is in pristine shape.

"I have an idea," Yoongi quirks up.

Jimin and I both turn to Yoongi.

"Leave the photos here, on the slide and the swing. We will leave to examine the halls quick and come back since this seems to be the area with the most activity, according to the reports."

"You want to see if they disappear?" Jimin says in a mock spooky voice, high-pitched and excited.

I roll my eyes but set the photos down, placing the photo of the swing on the swing and the photo of the slide on the top of the slide. Then I scoff and shake my head but show Yoongi that I am willing to play along even though I think it is silly.

We turn around to walk away from the playground, and we get to the escalators before Yoongi stops in his tracks.

"Did you guys see that?" he asks, panning the camera quickly to the left.

"See what?" Jimin and I ask at the same time.

"I d—I don't know. Maybe it was nothing," Yoongi responds. 

There is a hint of fear in his voice, which is giving me chills to hear.

Timestamp 37:23. Paused. This is the moment I have been dreading. At this point, Yoongi turns around, facing the playground once more, and I am not even sure what compelled him to turn around in the first place, but this is the point at which. I don't even really know. I have never seen what he saw, and I am sort of terrified to. A huge part of me hopes that when I push play, I will just see him reacting to nothing. But that is probably not likely right. And what if I—what if the curse—what if this is it? I'm rambling. I don't know why I am even putting all of my thoughts out there like this, it's just—

Okay.

For the sake of full disclosure, I am going to keep the stream of conscious typing so that if there is something, I can get it on the page and then be done with it. And not think twice about it.

Continuing with the video. Yoongi turns around and

oh my god.

it's so tall. holy shit. Yoongi sees it and he screams. jesus christ he screams so loud. oh my god, i think it...it looks like it turns at the sound of yoongi screaming. it's just a big black mass, i can't make out a clear shape, but where i assume there could be a head, it seems to respond to yoongi's voice. like it realizes he can see it.

and now i can see it.

um. okay. yoongi is screaming to us asking if we can see it too but we can't and we're clearly nervous and i walk in the frame, in front of the camera to say "yoongi, there's nothing there" but he's. i remember the fear in his eyes and he was shaking his head. the camera is shaking like his hands are trembling. there's clearly something there. fuck.

timestamp 40:01.

I gotta go. I can't watch anymore tonight. Good night everyone. 🤍

Comments:

j.m on 01/10/2022 it's starting

kira_kurosaki on 01/11/2022 starting to think every comment I make now will just be wtf...

amoeba on 01/12/2022 shit on one hand i hope your recent sickness is just related to whatever’s going around (and not from anything you may not have realized you’ve seen in the footage)…but on the other and “whatever’s going around” is a pretty serious virus, so i also hope it’s not that!

richboycheck on 01/13/2022 yea u definitely killed them

TH3 [author] on 01/14/2022 @.richboycheck i killed them while i was under 24/7 watch in a mental health facility? wow big brains on you, i can't believe the cops didn't think of that 🙄.

y.g on 01/14/2022 @.TH3 yagiya don't feed the trolls, just keep telling your story

TH3 [author] on 01/14/2022 @.y.g idk who you are but please stop impersonating Yoongi. it's not funny.

TH3 [author] on 01/14/2022 why do i even bother reading the comments. this shit is driving me crazy.

squishycat on 01/14/2022 so you admit it then? you think you're crazy?

hiromi_20 on 08/21/2022 omg I'm so glad i started following this. grabbing popcorn. stay strong op!

// You cannot stop shaking; you feel the urge to vomit. There is a ringing in your ears that is also a low thrum. You feel claustrophobic.

This is the first time you are seeing it. And it is definitely real. And although you could not make out its face as you watched the video, you could feel it looking at you. Tall and black as a shadow, almost like it is billowing smoke, like in an old vampire story. You have closed the video file and turned off your monitor, but there is still the feeling of it, or something, watching you.

A drink. You need a drink. You reach for the bottle of whiskey that lives permanently on your desk, and grab an alprazolam.

Bottom's up.

Time to sleep this shit off immediately.//

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The Hooksborough Demon is copyright 2021-2022 theharrowing, all rights reserved. Don’t be a silent reader! I love to hear from you!

[things-we-cant-say]

Pairing: Vampire!Ten x Hunter!Reader (Female)

Genre: Supernatural AU

Warnings: Bit of violence, blood, lore I made up, sex

Summary: It’s your job to protect the human race from anything that creeps through the night. However, a chance encounter with a vampire called Ten threatens to upset an already precarious balance between light and dark.

Word Count: 10,009

A/N: Final part! Parts One and Two can be found here and here. A big thank you to everyone who read, liked & reblogged this. Happy you guys enjoyed it & I hope there are many more ficlets in my future. Tagging @whattaweeb as requested! [Song lyrics = The Devil by Banks, I Get It by Chevelle, Up In Flames by Ruelle.]

part three: i ain’t really bothered and it taste so good

“You’re going out with him again, aren’t you? The vampire.”

Arching a brow from your place in front of your wide vanity, you glanced to Elizabeth’s reflection in the mirror. She was stretched across the foot of your bed and pretending to read a magazine, her expression neutral. In the few weeks that had followed saving Ten’s life you’d spent every bit of free time you had with him. Except now everyone knew of course, including the Elders thanks to Jeremy’s obnoxious mouth. You’d expected to become somewhat of a pariah and while some did treat you differently, others were oddly curious about the natural of your relationship with Ten. Especially Elizabeth.

The Elders preached that vampires were depraved, self-indulgent sex fiends that only cared about feeding on the helpless. That they loved violence and couldn’t be trusted, that they were perhaps more dangerous than werewolves because they had the capacity to manipulate. There was also the mind control, super strength and super speed. As Demios you all knew not to just engage with a vampire unless it was warranted, but the definition of warranted varied depending on who was holding the dagger.

Ten wasn’t like that though, none of the Neos were as far as you’d seen. Yes, they all had the capacity for violence but most just wanted to be fabulous, rich and immortal.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I am going out with Ten again.” You picked up a tube of lipstick and smoothed it across your lips. “Why?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “No reason.” She flipped a through a few pages of the glossy magazine before shoving it dramatically to the floor. “Okay I am dying to know what fucking a vampire is like! Does he bite you during? Can they really make you come six times in a row? Aileen said some can fly so have you done it on the ceiling yet?”

You blinked and slowly turned to face her. “I—what?” Laughing, you scratched at the back of your head. “Geeze Liz where are you getting this stuff?”

She grinned. “Around. You hear things…”

You snorted. “Heh well for the record I wouldn’t know about ceiling sex or what not because Ten and I—we aren’t—we haven’t had sex.”

Elizabeth tilted her head to the side. “Really? Why not? I mean if it’s one thing we know vampires love it’s sex and blood.”

You could feel your face heat up but managed to soldier on. “I don’t know. I mean I guess if I wanted to he’d—we would…”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to? Granted the Elders would hate it but they’re already unhappy you’re even spending time with him so you might as well go all in. He’s not exactly my type but I’m not blind. He’s gorgeous as fuck and there is no way he’s not unbelievable in the sack.”

Her words made you chuckle but you couldn’t disagree. Sometimes it felt like every time you saw Ten he just got hotter and hotter. His eyes, his hands, his lips—the way he’d just look at you and all you could think about was being closer to him. And since the night you’d saved his life you had gotten a lot closer. Emotionally and physically.

“Honestly if it happens then it happens,” you said slowly. “It—it’s not like we haven’t done other stuff.”

That naturally piqued her interest. “Ooh like what?”

You weren’t usually one to gossip but… “We’ve been making out a lot. Just kissing and kissing, and his lips are so soft and I’ve become kinda obsessed with tangling my fingers in his hair. He’s also a bit of a tease.”

Elizabeth squinted at you. “So you’ve only kissed?”

With a fake put upon sigh, you tossed a balled up tissue at her. “He’s went down on me. And I—I have let him bite me.”

“Holy shit!” Your friend exclaimed. “I—I don’t know what to ask about first! I mean the first is whoa but the second is like whooooooa because it breaks about a million rules.”

All you should do was shrug. “Both were freaking awesome. Ten is one of the most amazing people I have ever met and I’m glad we were able to get closer. What we have is still sorta new but I—I care about him a lot. It’s so weird. Why him? Why a vampire?”

Elizabeth smiled a little. “Hey who knows? You can’t be the first Demios to fall for a supernatural, and if you are I doubt you’ll be the last. There is still so much we don’t know about our world…so much the Elders have no doubt kept from us. Maybe this kinda thing is normal and they say it isn’t to be assholes.”

It had occurred to you more and more lately that the Elders were hoarding information, passing it out sparsely to make sure everyone stayed in line. Giving out the history they wanted known and squashing anyone who asked too many questions. Of course that begged the question why were they letting you continue to see Ten? If they really wanted to stop you they probably could. What if you having access to him was all part of some weird plan they were putting into motion? What if they were going to use you to take down the Neos?

God, the what ifs made your skin crawl. You’d never forgive yourself if you were the reason something terrible happened to Ten and his Coven.

I should bring this up to him, you thought to yourself. He needs to be aware just in case I…get compromised.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Even before meeting Ten I knew things weren’t as easy as good and evil. Now after spending time with him and meeting more of his Coven; well I just can’t see how anyone in the Pantheon would blindly kill without all of the facts. Except for someone like Jeremy.”

At the sound of his name you friend rolled her eyes. “God he’s such a slimy dickhead. He’s been telling everyone you’re a vampire’s whore, and that you can’t be trusted. Someone should set him on fire.”

Hearing that didn’t surprise you in the least. Jeremy had always had something against you since the moment you first met. “If I was a vampire’s whore he’s the idiot insulting me when I could just have my hot vampire boyfriend to rip his throat out.”

Elizabeth giggled. “With Ten though…he doesn’t like, scare you? Master vampires are no joke. He did nearly kill you when you first met.”

“I haven’t forgotten that but I did forgive him. He didn’t have all of the information and in his shoes I might have reacted the same way. As for scaring me, no. I feel a lot of things when I’m around Ten but fear isn’t one of them.”

“Fair enough.” Sighing, she glanced to her watch and stood. “I’ve got sword practice with Sam but I wanna hear all about your date when you get back! Later!”

You waved goodbye to Elizabeth and turned back to your reflection, making sure that you looked good. Not that Ten would care. The last time you’d parted ways—two nights ago—you’d been covered in demon ichor and he’d thought it was fucking hilarious. If he didn’t have the most adorable laugh known to man you probably would have punched him in the stomach for laughing at you. As it were you’d just let him walk you home and then spent the rest of the night after your shower texting with him. Your relationship could be so normal…

Which was odd because it felt like it shouldn’t be so easy. Like the world should be trying to tear you both asunder for even daring to exist in the same space. The Neos were fine with you though Ten admitted a few had voiced their concerns about the Pantheon as a whole. About them retaliating if things went sour. Naturally that made sense to you. However, what didn’t make any sense what so ever was what a big deal it wasn’t to the rest of the supernatural community. The Elders used to say playing favorites would cause strife so it was best to be emotionally distant to all. Just do your duty and walk away. Meanwhile Ten was helping you put down monsters left and right, and no one was batting an eyelash.

Except for Elder Cross.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. To be honest it scared the hell out of you.

Exhaling deeply, you grabbed your jacket from the back of your chair and slipped it on. Making sure that your phone was tucked into your pocket, you left your room and jogged down the stairs. Several people watched you go and proclaimed to each other that you were off to meet “that vampire” but you ignored them, keeping your head held high. Their opinion didn’t matter, not when you still did your job like a freaking bad ass.

You threw a peace sign to Damien as he grinned at you and were stepping out the open front doors when a body was suddenly blocking your way. You drew up short and frowned. “Move.”

Jeremy smirked, folding his arms over his chest. “Where ya going, Y/N? Off to meet your vampire?”

You glared at him. “That is really none of your business. Move.”

He snickered, raising his voice a little so that the others could hear. “So how does that work anyway? Does he suck you or do you suck him? Must be gross as hell; cold ass vampire cock in your mouth. Disgraceful. He should be put down for even thinking he can associate with Demios. Tainting our good name like this. And you letting him? Ugh.”

The tingle started at the base of your spine and slowly worked its way up to the back of your neck. Your left eye twitched, the lamps in the room flickering just a little. Truthfully you weren’t even that irritated but apparently your powers had other ideas. “Spend much time thinking about his cock? I’m sure if you asked nicely he might show it to you so you can see what you’re lacking.”

Jeremy growled and infiltrated your space, looming over you in a way solely meant to intimidate. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

Funny enough you weren’t intimidated by him at all. “I said if you don’t fucking move out of my way I’ll set your ass on fire like a burnt campfire smore.”

Whatever Jeremy was going to say died on his tongue by the look on your face. He played it off as if you weren’t worth it—even saying as much—before roughly pushing you aside so that he could step farther into the manor. You huffed and continued on your way, but not before catching sight of your reflection in the crystal clear glass of the ornate doors. Your normally dark eyes were glowing white from the iris to the sclera. You looked like freaking Raiden.

“Huh. That’s new.” Swallowing thickly, you ignored it the best you could and hurried on your way. Hopefully they would be back to normal in a little bit.

Yet as you ran down the driveway and through the baroque gates, you couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck was happening to you. It was a thought that niggled you until you were at your and Ten’s meeting place; standing under the bright yellow streetlight and listening to its hum. Sometimes, though especially lately, you’d felt like your body was pulling itself out of a fog you hadn’t even known you were in.

About fifteen minutes later a black 1969 Camaro pulled up, the windows down with music drifting from inside. Ten smiled at you from behind the wheel. “Hello baby.”

You flushed and climbed into the passenger seat, gazing at him with a smile of your own. Slicked back black hair, pink lips and several buttons of his stripped shirt unbuttoned to show off his gold necklaces; he made your heart skip a few beats. And he knew it.

“Hey.” Before you could talk yourself out of it you leaned forward and kissed him, threading your fingers into his soft hair. He hummed and kissed you back, mouth cool and tasting of expensive red wine. Three seconds in his space and already your head was filled with him, making everything cloudy and dreamy around the edges. His kisses were like magic, drawing soft moans out of you almost against your will. You needed to get closer to him, always closer. “Ten…”

“Hm?” His head dipped and he licked over your pulse point. “Do you need something from me, baby?”

Possibly? Everything. “Take me somewhere private. Please. I just—I need—this isn’t enough.”

Ten grinned and returned his attention to the road. “Of course.”

The car shot forward with a roar and you flopped back to your seat, smoothing a hand across your face. “Shit. There—there was stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay.” He shifted gears and it shouldn’t have been sexy but it was. “What’s up?”

Shifting to face him, you rested your head to the headrest and chewed on the inside of your check. Ten was in his tight jeans; he looked more like a college student than a Master vampire but that didn’t matter to you. Vampire, student, elf—you didn’t care anymore. It was him that shook you up like a fizzy bottle constantly on the verge of exploding.

Feeling your eyes on him, he smirked but didn’t look over. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You kinda weren’t sure. Before getting in his car you would have said yes but now… “I’m…keyed up. My powers had an incident because Jeremy is a piece of shit. And it’s possible I’m also a little stressed out and worried that the Elders are using me to trap you. Otherwise why haven’t they made me stop seeing you? I know they’re not okay with it. If they really wanted to they could make me somehow.”

Ten blinked slowly. “What…type of incident?”

Flexing your fingers, you drew a ball of energy into your palm. It was noticeably brighter. “My eyes glowed. They’ve never did that before. He said…you should be put down for seeing me. It didn’t even make me that mad but…”

“Maybe you’re leveling up. After what you did at the train yard I wouldn’t be surprised. Have you been doing anything differently?”

“Besides kissing you?”

“Yes, besides that.”

“Heh um, not really. I’m just…happy. Being with you makes me happy. So I don’t focus on always being in control. That sounds kinda dangerous I guess…”

“Happiness is a powerful emotion. Perhaps it is helping you unlock your true potential somehow.”

Squeezing the energy ball until it popped and webbed between your spread fingers like a sparkling spider’s web, you thought about your skills and how usually when you used them they were destroying something. Evil and the like. You’d honestly never considered they could be anything more or that being more carefree with them would cause them to manifest differently. Carefully you reached out and brushed your fingers along Ten’s neck, watching as his veins lit up bright white. Like you were a generator slowly feeding him power. He cursed and his hands tightened on the wheel so hard you hear a tiny crack.

“Did that hurt?” You asked innocently.

Ten licked his lips. “No. It felt…let’s just say if you do it during a more intimate moment I’d be fine with it.”

Giggling, you idly glanced at the scenery flying by. “Ten, if the Elders ever try to use me or my safety to get you to do something, please don’t give in to their demands. I’d like to say they won’t but everything is changing.”

He reached over and squeezed your thigh. “Do they know about you saving me?”

Oh did they. Though Ten had expressly told his Coven not to mention your involvement, word got out about his epic battle with Tobias. From what you’d heard he’d arrived back at the manor that night and managed to slip upstairs to dress before anyone even knew he was there. And then he’d waltzed downstairs like a boss much to Tobias’ surprise, practically vibrating with uncontrolled power. He’d absolutely destroyed Tobias and his leftover assholes, not to mention an entire wing of his mansion. Now that wouldn’t be odd—he’s a Master vampire and they were strong—but rumors began to swirl about him being near death beforehand. About being saved by an unlikely ally.

Since werewolves and vampires tended to not get along, and fairies didn’t give a shit about anything that wasn’t having a good time, people started to wonder and check names off a list. Since you were already known to be kicking it with Ten, well, dots were connected. Although Elder Cross had not brought the matter up with you face to face, he’d voiced his extreme displeasure with any Demios getting involved in supernatural business. He’d also offhandedly remarked that if it ever came down to picking a side, every Demios must stand with their brothers and sisters unless they wanted to be lashed. You weren’t sure if it was possible to have your abilities taken away but you knew you didn’t want to find out.

“They suspect I had something to do with it. Simple process of elimination,” you replied with a huff. “I—fuck I don’t want to have to pick a side. Not that I could hurt you even if I had to. I might be leveling up but you’d be the final boss.”

Ten merged the car into the right lane and then turned, heading down a dark road where the streetlights tapered off quite quickly. “It’ll never come to that. I’d take the Coven and leave the city before it did. But look I understand why you’re concerned and we’ll monitor the situation. I have spies in your organization so if things start getting loud, I’ll know before they boil out of control.”

You hated the thought of Ten and the others being forced to leave because of you. This was their home just as much as yours. Maybe more so if they were around first. “Sh—should we stop seeing each other?” The words hurt to say aloud but you felt they were necessary. “I don’t want to but if it would solve any future problems...”

“Bold of you to assume I could stay away from you,” Ten muttered. “Especially after all that we’ve been through. No, we’ll be vigilant and everything will be okay. Now…” He veered off the road after a few minutes to follow a dirt path that disappeared through a cropping of droopy trees. Cutting the engine after getting deeper in, he grinned. “Let’s ignore our problems and have some fun.”

You arched a brow. “What did you have in mind?”

“You asked me to take you somewhere private so here we are. I thought maybe we could play a game to help get you out of your head.” His slender fingers dragged through your hair. “Yes?”

His touch calmed you and you found yourself nodding to his silly idea. “What type of game? I show you mine and you show me yours?”

Ten snickered. “Well I’ve already seen yours.” He wet his lips with the tip of his pink tongue and you suppressed a shiver. “But after we finish playing I’d be totally willing to see it again if you want.”

Sometimes you really wanted to hit him. Clearing your throat, you opened your door and climbed out of the car. “Geeze Ten, if you wanted to eat me out again all you had to do was say please. I’d suffer through it.”

Ten laughed and slipped out as well, strolling around to stand in front of the vehicle’s bright lights. “Oh sure, suffer. Let’s play hide and seek. If you find me I’ll do whatever you ask me to do, whether that be taking point on your next hunts or something more…physical.”

“And if I don’t find you?”

“If you don’t find me…” He strolled up to you and smoothed his thumb across your full bottom lip. “I get to put you on your knees so you can show me what this pretty little mouth can do.”

The images that flashed through your head had you gasping, your face suddenly flaming hot. You’d never gone down on anyone before—had never really thought about it to be honest—yet now it was all you could picture. Ten stunning and panting leaning back against the hood of the car, Ten’s long fingers tangled in your thick hair, Ten guiding his dick between your lips… How would it feel? How would he taste? How much could you take in?

“Alright,” you said breathlessly.

Satisfied, Ten kissed your cheek. “Good kitten.” With a wink, he disappeared into the woods.

You took off your jacket and tossed it into the backseat, heart thudding in your chest. Technically you were aware that even with your skills, Ten still had the upper hand. His reflexes alone were way better than yours; he could be there one minute and gone the next. Now that the idea was in your head, you really wanted to suck Ten off but you also kinda wanted to win simply because it was unexpected. There was no reason you couldn’t do both…right?

Making your way past the towering trees, you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the darkness and the sliver of moonlight from behind the heavy clouds. You could sense Ten somewhere but that was like saying you knew there were birds snuggled up on their branches. It was possible he could cloak himself. Stepping over a fat raccoon that dared you to make a move, you moved deeper into the woods until the only thing you could hear clearly was your own breathing.

The night was calm and the forest indolent with low nighttime sounds. You dug down into your boot and pulled out a small knife, gripping the ruby covered hilt lazily. Glancing around, you slashed open your palm with a wince and watched the bright red blood bubble up to the surface. A few drops trickled down your fingers and fell silently to the ground as a metallic smell filled the air.

Humming, you started walking again with no real direction in mind. Although you didn’t hear any footsteps behind you, you could feel that you were being followed. However, when you jerked around there was no one there.

“You shouldn’t play with your food, Ten!” You shouted giddily. “If this is how you treat your marks it’s a wonder you ever get anything to eat.”

“You’re more special than a mark.” Ten’s voice seemed to come from all around you. “Not to mention you’re not playing fair.”

You knew that and it made you smirk. “Hey a game is a game, and maybe this will teach you not to underestimate me.”

“What makes you think I underestimate you?” He questioned. “I know what you’re capable of. And with this stunt I have discovered there is also a bit of asshole in you.”

Laughing, you turned in a slow circle and looked up into the trees. “Takes one to know one. I’m curious though; why can’t I sense you directly like other vampires?”

Something hit you on the head and when you glanced down, you saw an acorn. Did he really just throw that at you?

“I learned how to shroud myself from Demios a long time ago,” he explained in delight. “Usually I am completely undetectable but as with most things, you can do the impossible.”

“I’m awesome that way.” You scrunched up your nose. “I hope there aren’t any monsters lurking out there tonight otherwise you might have some competition in the eating me department. I guess I might still be pretty with no head.”

Ten threw more acorns at you. “We’re alone.”

That was good to know. “Eh just as well. Besides I’m sure I’m not that irresistible anyway. Why go for me when there is a raccoon a few yards back?”

He snorted. “You have no idea, Y/N. And it’s not just your blood, it’s you. All of you.”

You kicked a rock off into the distance but his words warmed your heart. “Ten. Come here.”

A gust of wind tickled the back of your neck as strong arms winded around your waist, holding you tight. Soft lips kissed the side of your throat and you sighed, leaning back. “Looks like I found you,” you teased lightly.

Ten clasped your wrist and brought your bloody fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean one by one. Any other time you would have been repulsed by such a show, but with him it was just…well it just was. He licked your palm and you watched his red eyes roll back into his head with pleasure, cheeks rosy pink. Only he could make drinking blood look sexy.

Purring happily, he nicked his thumb with his fang, letting a few drops of his own blood drip into your cut. It healed instantly. “You shouldn’t hurt yourself to get my undivided attention,” he chastised. “You already have it anyway.”

You shrugged, nuzzling at the underside of his jaw. “I heal pretty quick. Not that quick but decently enough. Anyway I won! And for my prize…I’d still very much like to get on my knees for you.”

Ten bit at your neck hard enough to leave a mark and pushed you up against the nearest tree trunk. You yelped in surprise more than anything else before reeling him in, kissing him like nothing else mattered. At the moment nothing else did. All you wanted to do was lose yourself in his intoxicating aura. Sink deep beneath the waves of his hands creeping under your shirt, nimble fingers pushing aside your bra so that he could lightly twist your nipples. You arched to him and moaned against his mouth, your own hands dropping to his waist and then lower. He was already hard, straining against the denim of his dark jeans.

Pulling back so that he could see your face, he smiled. “My gorgeous baby,” he cooed at you. “So pretty.” He put a hand on your shoulder and gently pushed. “Down.”

Swallowing thickly, you slowly sunk to your knees in front of him, pulse jumping so fast you were shocked you weren’t dizzy. You gazed up at Ten like you were asking for absolution, eyes wide and sparkling. About to plead to him to cure you of all your sins, fears and misdeeds. God he was magnificent; staring down at you with warm brown eyes even as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his zipper. At the first flash of his smooth stomach you tipped forward and kissed it, compelled to taste whatever part of him that you could.

“Y/N…” Ten bit his lip, one hand braced on the tree above you. With the other he affectionately cupped your chin. “Are you sure? Do you want it?”

You didn’t trust your voice so you just nodded.

He hummed. “Open for me.”

And you did.

Ten’s cock was a heavy, hot thing on your tongue and you’d assume it would feel weird but it didn’t. You’d never idly thought about sucking dick before but now that his was in your mouth, all you wanted was to fall into the taste of him. All you wanted was to be so good that he remembered you long after you were gone. Grabbing his slender hips, you shut your mind off—you’re doing this, can you believe you’re doing this!?—and gave yourself over to that primal part of you that resided deep inside. Even though you had no real idea what you were doing, that part knew.

That part whispered to bob your head up and down. That part told you to lick the crown and slide your tongue over the leaking slit—look how he likes it, how he shudders at the mercy of your mouth. That part told you to sink down as far as you could, to hum and lick the underside and match the rhythm he was building as he pushed in and out of your mouth. Ten wasn’t the type to try to choke you or hold you down; his hand in your hair simply guided you as you slowly took him apart.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he groaned leaning over you just a bit, slipping deeper.

You sighed and wrapped your fingers around him, focusing on sucking his fat pink cock head as your hand stroked up and down his slick shaft. Your eyes drifted up to his perfect face, your ears picking up every moan and whimper and curse that flowed from his perfect lips. You’d never seen someone look so goddamn beautiful in your entire life. The image he painted before you made you hot and wet, and before you’d even really processed what you were doing, your fingers had tripped down the front of your jeans and into your panties.

Ten shuddered at the sight and that was all the warning you got before he was coming, squirting across your tongue and then your hand as you leaned back with a gasp. Was it possible for a person to be mouthwatering? To want to devour them because they tasted so good? Ten’s hips stuttered with the force of his orgasm and you kept stroking him, wrapping your lips back around his dripping crown, sucking obediently until his legs were shaking.

“Jesus, fuck me...” Ten pulled away from you and slumped back against the tree, skin flushed and sweet.

You licked your lips, mouth tingling. “Was—was that good?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He chuckled lazily and tucked himself back into his pants. “That was amazing.”

Pleased, you wiped your hand on a bunch of bushes before standing on stiff legs and stretching. “Yeah but…practice makes perfect.”

He smirked. “That is true.”

Suddenly shy, you laughed and turned away from him. “Anyway, we should go patrol or something.”

Ten combed his fingers through his hair in a way that could prove dangerous to your heart in the future. “We could do that, yes. Or I could put you on the hood of my car and tongue fuck you until you’re stupid?”

Coughing, you choked on air and he let out that infernal yet adorable giggle. “Maybe we should do that,” you said around a wheeze. “For science.”

Ten laughed harder; expression bright and happy. “Okay. For science.”

we’re doomed, and there’s plenty for all

Stretched out on your bed the following night with your phone on speaker, you pressed your hand to your mouth harder to keep your laughter in. It wasn’t easy though; the story Ten was currently telling you was hysterical. You were supposed to meet an hour ago to hang out or, most likely, spend the rest of the night seeing who could make who come the hardest. But moments before you were about to leave the manor, Ten had texted about an issue he needed to deal with and being unable to meet up. Disappointed but understanding, you’d spend the few hours before his call sparring with Elizabeth.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” Ten grumbled with an obvious pout. “The kitchen is ruined! That shit is never coming out of the marble countertops—I’d had them imported from Paris! And don’t even get me started on the oven. Custom made sand colored brick; it’s probably older than you are.”

You giggled. “Wait so he tried making a cake and it exploded? Cakes don’t just…explode.”

Ten snorted. “The cake was already made and for some reason, Xiaojun thought the frosting needed to be heated. And also he wanted chocolate and vanilla which sounds like a horrible abomination mixed together but that’s neither here nor there. He proceeded to mix the two in a bowl and put the bowl in one of our thousand dollar microwaves. Not realizing that the spoon had fallen in.”

The image made you snicker so hard you nearly rolled off your bed. “Oh dear. Okay I get ruining the microwave but how does that effect the whole kitchen? Or are you just being dramatic?”

“No! The microwave exploded and the flames caught the paneling and the cabinets. Meanwhile Xiaojun was too busy on fucking Youtube watching song cover videos.” Ten growled and you bit your lip. “Thankfully Mark smelled the smoke and got the fire extinguisher before the entire house was set ablaze. But not before damage was done.”

“Aww poor Tennie. His babies messed his house up,” you teased good-naturedly. “Hey look at it this way though, now you have a reason to redecorate.”

“You can be such a brat. I should spank that behavior out of you.”

Blushing, you grabbed a pillow and wedged it under your chin. “Let me guess. I’d be bare assed and you’d be bare handed?”

He chuckled. “I have a paddle if you’d prefer.” Ice hitting a glass tinkled in the background. “Putting you over my knee might be good for the both of us.”

“What if I wanted to put you over my knee?” You inquired slowly. “Between the two of us I think I’m the one who actually has chains and ropes lying around.”

“No I think those are things we both own. And hey you’re welcomed to chain me up whenever you want as long as it’s for fun.”

“What other reason would I have for chaining you up? Well besides robbing you…”

You heard Ten take a sip of whatever he’s drinking before replying, “Mm that reminds me. I guess I should start buying you nice things.”

Arching a brow, you fiddled with his ring, bringing it up to your lips. “Why? In the mood to play Sugar Daddy?”

“No,” he said honestly. “I just think you should have nice things. I want to give you pretty things because I—I care about you a lot and I enjoy spending time with you.”

Touched, you sat up and brought the phone closer to your face. “I could come over if you want. Unless you’d rather I send you sexy selfies?”

“We could do both. Send the pictures, get me hot and then come over.”

You opened your mouth to reply when an agonizing scream cut through the otherwise quiet atmosphere. It had you jerking your head towards your closed door. “What the fuck?” Easing off your bed, you crept to the door and opened it just an inch, peering out with one eye. “What was—”

“No! No, no don’t—!”

“Y/N?” There was concern in Ten’s voice. “What was that? What’s happening?”

“I—”

Directly under you from the dining room a crash sounded; glass breaking and you just knew it was the lovely cabinets that sat over in the corner. Between one minute and the next someone was thrown clean over the long table in the foyer, their face bloody and broken. A gang quickly surrounded them and to your horror you recognized the people now hitting them over and over. They were your people. They were Demios.

“Y/N!”

“Ten something’s happening,” you whispered as you quickly pulled on your boots. “Demios are attacking each other. I gotta—”

Your door was flung open so roughly that it banged back against the wall hard enough to crack the wood. Riley—someone you’d never had issues with before—swung at you with a fucking broad axe and you yelped, electricity jolting from your fingers before you could even grasp what was going on. A bright bolt hit him square in the chest and he crumbled to the floor with a low thud.

Phone forgotten on the floor where you’d dropped it, you hurried out into the hall to find a war raging from all angles. Demios against Demios. Learner against Sangre Pura to be more precise.

What the fuck!? You’d known things could get strained between the two because some Pura could be elitist assholes and some Learners could be jealous dickheads, but you’d never in a million years thought it would come to this. A goddamn civil war in the manor you all called home! And by the look of things Learners were not playing around. They were playing for keeps; killing people they’d called friends just yesterday!

You didn’t want to hurt people but also weren’t about to let anyone kill you either.

Exhaling deeply, you yanked down two daggers that had been mounted on the wall and leapt over the bannister to the ground floor. You landed easily and just in time to save Sam from being choked to death by his partner, Marco. From this level you could tell there was fighting in every room; the sounds of screaming and things being broken echoing all around you like voices from the void. Pools of blood had already been made with other bright red swaths staining the walls and carpet.

With Marco struggling to get up from where you’d kicked him, Sam created a sharp pointed icicle in one hand and hurled it with so much force that it speared through Marco’s chest and out his back, pinning him to the floor. His eyes met yours and you nodded; you’d both do what you had to do to survive.

Sam headed towards the kitchen and you dashed into the library, ducking as a knife sailed towards your head. You picked up a glass bowl of fruit and tossed it at whomever had tried to hit you, sliding under a table to take out their legs. It was a girl with red hair and as she fell, her temple cracked on the wooden bar, knocking her out cold. A loud rumbling sounded and you watched as a large sink hole opened up near one of the bookshelves, sucking everything down into the earth. You scrambled to your feet and clamored up a thin ladder for those hard to reach books, leaping over the green couch and tumbling into the hallway. Someone screamed behind you—guess they didn’t know the extent of their own powers.

It was then you saw him however; pinned to the wall with a thick spear sticking out of his gut. Elder Cross. He hung limply, eyes still open yet staring at nothing. A few yards away were several other Elders, some missing limbs and one with his skull completely caved in.

Well, shit.

“Stop! Ge—get off me!”

“Elizabeth?” You took off in the direction her voice came to find her being driven backwards by some guy—Matt you think his name was—as he battered at her with a heavy great sword. Wasting no time, you flung your dagger at him, catching him in the back of his neck. He gurgled and Elizabeth ripped the sword from his hand, lopping his head clean off.

“Christ!” She shrieked in a panic. “What is happening?! What the fuck is happening?!”

You ran over to her and hugged her. “You have to save as many people as you can and get the hell out of here! Get somewhere safe!”

Her blue eyes were wild with fear. “But where is safe? Ah! No!”

Whipping around to see what she was pointing at, you frowned as Damien sprinted over to you both. “Hey hey, no! I’m not—this is all Jeremy and his lackies! I’m not gonna kill my friends!”

He didn’t have a weapon and when you squinted at him, you could tell he was telling the truth. “Both of you need to haul ass then. Once the other Learners see you’re not playing by the new rules, they’ll probably turn on you too. Sam went towards the kitchen. Go! I’m right behind you!”

Damien grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and they dashed towards the kitchen, dodging small groups of people still fighting and striking down each other. You turned to follow when a scream caught your attention. Keisha—who was no more than fifteen—was cowering in a corner as some asshole tried to bring the ceiling down on top of her. You skidded up behind her attacker and slit his throat, your hands becoming sticky and wet with blood.

“Yo—you helped me,” she cried in surprise. “But you’re a blood pure.”

“Head towards the kitchen and find Damien and Elizabeth,” you told her. “They’ll help you get out and keep you safe.”

She darted that way with a sniffle, shoes slipping on bits and pieces of flesh.

The next few events happened so quick you barely had time to breathe. Someone latched onto your hair from behind and slammed your head into the wall with so much force that several picture frames clattered to the floor. You saw stars and were flung into the living room by the fire place, nearly smashing your nose on the bricks. You were then jerked to your feet and shoved against the mantle, gasping as something sharp punched into your gut. Looking down, you saw a six-inch bladed knife sticking out of your stomach.

And holding onto the hilt with a manic grin was Jeremy.

“Man this feels good!” He shouted, twisting the blade slowly. “Finally. Seriously you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. How long I've wanted to fuck you up!”

The pain was excruciating and your eyes teared up without your consent. “I—I should have known it—it was you.”

He chuckled. “Heh too busy getting dicked down by a vampire. But look at you now. The great thunderstorm Pura.” He sneered and leaned closer, rubbing his nose along your cheek. “You’re nothing. You and all those other assholes thinking you were so special because you were born with powers. I told the others we could take you. I told them we could clean house and rule if we wanted to.”

“And the Elders?”

Jeremy made a face. “Who needs ‘em? Elder Cross has always played favorites anyway. Letting you run around with a vamp. Letting Sam stay out all night. All because of your precious blood.” His eyes glanced down to where your blood was running down the front of your jeans. “Doesn’t look so precious now.”

It was getting hard to breathe; the blade feeling like fire inside of you. “This—those in charge—”

Jeremy shrugged. “If they come ask we’ll say your kind went crazy and we were forced to put you down. But I doubt they’ll care once they see how we clean up this city. Bye bye supernatural scum.” He smiled. “Too bad I can’t like inherit your powers when you die though. Controlling lightning did always look fun.”

Lifting your head to meet his mad eyes, you held a trembling hand out to the front of the fireplace. “It all starts…with a spark…”

He smelled it then; the gas you’d managed to switch on when he’d thrown you into the room. His mouth opened wide and you snapped your fingers, sending a tiny spark floating up into the air. It ignited the gas with a loud whoosh, creating a fireball that engulfed you and Jeremy, sending him hurtling back into the flat screen tv mounted onto the wall. The entire room erupted into flames and you marveled at the shimmering electric shield that buzzed around you and protected you. You’d had no idea you could even conjure such a thing.

Jeremy screamed and flailed but there was nothing he could do to put out the flames. They dragged him down and spread quick, running up the walls and bursting windows. In seconds the whole house was burning and falling apart.

Pulling the knife out took effort but you forced it, pressing a hand to the hole in your stomach afterwards. Shield still in place, you staggered back out into the foyer and to the front door, nearly collapsing onto the porch. Outside the battle was still raging on but you noticed three new faces in the fray. Ten, Johnny and Mark were putting down Learners that attacked them right and left, much to the Pura’s disbelief. Ten grabbed some guy’s neck and twisted it roughly to the side, the bones breaking through the dude’s skin as he fell to the ground. He then put his fist through another’s back and yanked, pulling the spine clean out.

“Te—Ten!”

At hearing your voice he looked at you, face full of worry and relief in equal measure. You smiled and managed to get down the steps before your legs completely gave out. You crashed to the dirt but found yourself in Ten’s arms instead, cradled gently against his chest.

“Y/N! Oh my little darling!” He pressed his hand to your bleeding wound with enough pressure to make you whimper. “Fuck! Hey, you’re gonna be okay. Who did this to you?”

You blinked slowly; things were becoming dark around the edges. “Jeremy. I set him on fire… I set it all on fire.”

Ten kissed your forehead, his pretty dark eyes brimming with tears. “Good. Saves me the trouble of doing it.” He lifted your shirt and peered at your messy stab wound. “You can’t heal this, can you?”

You shook your head. “It’s a mortal wound. Ten! Ten you have to help my friends! No—not all of them are li—like Jeremy. They’re still in dan—”

“Hey do not even fucking think for one second that you’re dying.” He lifted his wrist and sunk his fangs into it, pushing it towards your mouth. “Drink. My blood will heal you.”

“But…we’ll be bonded,” you panted. “Forever.”

“I know. Please let me save you.”

This time when he brought his wrist to your mouth you simply fastened your lips over the puncture wounds and drunk deeply. It hit your system like a bomb; you could feel it racing through your veins and merging with your cells, changing and shaping and healing you all at once. You sighed deeply and rested your head to his shoulder, warm and safe in his arms as he stood with your nestled against him.

Damien, Elizabeth, Sam and Keisha stepped up beside Ten to gaze at the manor as it crackled and crumbled in on itself, sending thick plums of black smoke into the sky. A few more Pura and a few Learners came to watch as well, everyone sporting bruises and deep scratches.

“What do we do now?” Elizabeth wiped at her wet face. “Not everyone who was with Jeremy died. Some of them got away. We—we don’t know how deep this goes.”

“It’s a civil war.” Sam folded his muscular arms across his chest, nodding as Damien put a hand on his shoulder. “When the supernatural world hears about this…”

Ten cleared his throat. “You’re welcome back at the Coven if you can behave yourselves while you get yourselves together. However, if you feel being around a bunch of vampires is too much for you…”

Elizabeth shrugged. “You helped us fight and you saved Y/N. At this point we’d be stupid to cause trouble. Not to mention there are only like eight of us and ninety-nine of you guys.”

He smirked. “Twenty-three actually. But alright then. Follow me.”

“Tae’s gonna flip his shit over this,” you heard Johnny snicker to Mark. “Should be fun.”

when it all goes up in flames, we’ll be the last ones standing

Stretched out in Ten’s gigantic bed, you stared up at the twisted iron chandelier that hung from the ceiling, watching the icicle lights sway from the central air. The thick brown curtains are drawn so you’re not sure if it’s morning or whatever, and honestly you didn’t really care. After everything you went through the previous night, doing nothing for an indiscriminate amount of time sounded perfect. Especially if it entailed the feeling of safety that layered itself over your skin.

Like most of Ten’s things his room was gorgeous, shaded in chocolate browns and soft beiges. The lamps on the beside tables were silver and carved in the shapes of angels. They matched the drawers to his dressers and ottoman. His carpet was fluffy and black. Off to the left was the en suite bathroom that housed a round Jacuzzi tub and a glass shower, the cabinets black marble with a round skylight cut into the ceiling. It was exactly the type of place you’d expect a wealthy Master vampire to own.

Biting your lip, you glanced to your right where Ten was lying beside you. He was gloriously naked and sleeping soundly, the sheet barely clinging to his small waist. He looked so…untroubled as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he didn’t have a house full of hunters and vampires now trying to coexist together. Most of the Neos were okay with the new arrangement—although temporary—but some had concerns. Others immediately jumped to make your friends feel welcome, and honestly you wouldn’t be surprised to hear of perhaps something more developing. Elizabeth had always had a thing for pretty boys and now she was practically drowning in them.

With a sigh you reached over and smoothed your hand up Ten’s back, scooching closer until your bare breasts were pressed right up against him. You wrapped an arm around his waist, enjoying the softness and warmth of his skin. If someone had told you when you first met him that you’d end up here, you probably would have laughed right in their face. Nothing seemed less plausible yet life was funny that way you supposed. Without Ten, you’d have bled to death outside of your ruined home. And without you the Neo Coven would be in the hands of a madman. Maybe it was fate you met. Maybe it was the universe keeping things in order.

You lifted up onto your elbow and peeked across at Ten’s serene face, brushing strands of silky hair away from his eyes. He’s like Sleeping Beauty, you thought in amusement. Wait does that make me the Prince?

Very slowly you leaned down and kissed his perfect lips—shaped like Cupid’s bow you’d idly mused to yourself more than once. When he didn’t stir you peppered him with more kisses; to his cheeks, his chin and along his jaw. You nosed at his pulse point—which thudded exceptionally slow—and bit down hard enough to leave a bruise. He moaned softly, eyelashes fluttering. “Y/N…” he said sleepily. “It’s too early. What are you doing to me?”

“Devouring you.” You put on your best sexy voice. “You just look so delicious and helpless right now. I can’t help myself.”

Ten giggled. “Oh no. Please, be gentle!”

Grinning, you kissed him again. “No promises,” you replied as your hand snaked down between his legs. “You’ll have a good time though.”

“Ah…” He grabbed your wrist in a loose hold but made no move to pull your hand away. “Did you sleep at all?”

“I did. I actually slept pretty good,” you admitted, giving his cock a light squeeze. “I think you wore me out”

Ten snorted and rolled onto his back, hair falling all cute and floppy across his forehead. “I think we wore each other out. Is your stamina from your powers or my blood, I wonder?”

It had taken a few for Ten’s blood to kick in fully, probably because it had been focused more on healing you. However, after that was taken care of the energy washed over you like you’d had several cups of coffee. You’d wanted to move; you’d wanted to hunt down the rest of Jeremy’s gang and make them all pay. That unfortunately wasn’t an option so you’d turned your attention to…other activities.

Really falling into bed with Ten just made sense. Everything with Ten made sense. And just like the times before he’d artfully strung your body like it was a guitar, committing himself to making you make the perfect music. The Elders used to say sex was sacred and best not attempted until you were deep into your duty, and while you did think it wasn’t something to do lightly, you were happy it was something you could share for the first time with Ten. That you were with someone who respected you and wanted you to enjoy yourself.

Apparently ceiling sex was something you’d tackle later.

But the intimate sensations of him inside of you, pinning you to the mattress as he took you over and over again had completely short circuited your brain. To be that close to someone? To feel them pulse and thrust and come inside of you; it was indefinable. And powerful, realizing that your body could invoke something so primal in someone else.

You smiled at your own thoughts. “Both? Speaking of which…”

Arching a brow, Ten stretched his arms above his head, pose the very definition of surrender. “Hm?”

You shifted so that you were nearly on top of him and rested your chin just below his nipple and the tattoo around it. “We—we uh—didn’t get a chance to talk about the bond last night. I know that vampires don’t just give that much of their blood to humans unless they plan to turn them.”

“You’re not exactly human.”

“Ten.” Frowning, you bit his nipple to reprimand him.

“Ow! That hurt me.” He pouted and you sighed through your grin. “But fine. Yes the bond is—it’s not something we do lightly. It was a no brainer for me though; I couldn’t let you die. I had to save you and I don’t regret it.”

You nodded slowly. “Even though now you’re connected to me? You’ll know when I’m scared or really happy, and you’ll always be able to find me. Not to mention we have no idea how this will affect my abilities. Or yours.”

He traced a finger down the slope of your nose. “Do you mind that we’re connected on a deeper level? It could be…invasive I should think.”

Among the many, many things the Elders said was terrible forming a bond with a vampire was just behind being turned. It wasn’t common; if a vampire wanted you with them they’d just make you like them. Becoming bonded created a sort of emotional tether, allowing you to be somewhat of a beacon for said vampire. They’d be able to find you even if you were thousands of miles away. Sense your emotions and—in some extreme cases—only be able to consume your blood. Their powers also stopped being able to affect you so no more mind control or what have you.

In rare instances the human would find themselves with heightened capabilities.

Yet you weren’t concerned in the least if you were being truthful. Not for yourself anyway. “No. As strange as it sounds it’s sort of comforting. Like being a part of something bigger than myself. Kinda like when my powers first manifested but without all the bullshit. I’m more worried what it might do to you. Like you said I’m not human so…”

“If I end up being able to shoot lightning from my fingers I won’t complain,” he joked. “I’ll tell you something I have never told anyone else before. I don’t fear much these days but I’m not an idiot. I know the Pantheon has the means to destroy me if they wish. It’s one of the reasons why I—I reacted the way I did when we first met. Being connected to you offers me security just as much as it offers you.”

“Well you don’t just have me, you have the others too. My friends are loyal and you’re helping us when we have no one else.” The mansion on fire flashed behind your eyes. “Granted it’s different between you and me but still. If the High Council or whoever is in charge showed up and demanded we turn on you guys, no one would. I—I’d kill them all before I let them touch you.”

Ten’s fingers twitched and wrapped around the bottom of his fancy headboard. “That’s new. That… ire.”

You shook your head. “It’s not new. Burying my doubts about the Pantheon was something I got used to doing, but now there is no need. Elder Cross is dead and in the end, I know who was there for me. You. Had things gone a bit differently last night, Jeremy could have won and you could have been killed trying to save me. You showed up at the manor with your friends having no clue what was going on. C’mon, Ten.”

“Reminds me of a certain beautiful young woman taking on several vampires by herself, all to help an incredibly sexy and talented and totally flawless Master vampire…”

“Yeah and he’s so humble too.”

“Mmhm.”

“On the real though, I said before that you make me happy and that hasn’t changed. I’m happy to be alive and here with you.” You tugged at the necklace around your neck, his ring still clinging to the chain. “War is coming. Fuck it’s already here, and there is no one I’d rather have beside me than you. If…that’s what you want of course.”

Ten gathered you close and kissed your forehead. “Every Queen should have a King willing to fight for her. And my Coven could use a woman’s touch…”

You laughed. “Hey I am not about to play mom to a bunch of vampires that could probably be my great, great, great grandfathers. I could be the cool Aunt though.” Rubbing his chest, you lifted your head to gaze at him. “I want to break it all down, Ten. I don’t want the chance that more Elders show up trying to pull me back into their orbit. Demios are people and if they hadn’t pitted us against each other none of this might have happened. Who knows what’s going on in other cities right now? If Jeremy contacted other Learners about wiping us all out.”

He licked his lips. “Sounds like you want to destroy the Pantheon…”

Was that what you wanted? You wanted security and control of your own life. You wanted to be with Ten without fear that someone wouldn’t understand. Most of all you wanted to reach your full potential and find out what it really meant to be a demi god; to fully unleash the lightning and the thunder inside of you.

Of course not everyone would be on board with your new outlook. Some people were set in their ways and others wouldn’t want to give up their control. But perhaps those types of people had been at the head of the table for too long.

“No I—I want to remake it,” you replied breathlessly. “I want to fix this mess between pure bloods and Learners, and have a more stable system if possible. And I want us—you and me—to be so powerful that we shake the world.”

Ten appeared to think over your words before breaking into a big grin. “Alright kitten…just tell me where to begin.”

~end~

[strange-lace]

Son Adopts Father, More at 11

What up, I made a new AU, it’s called Inverted AU where everyone’s personalities are flip flopped while still having relatively the same story roles and originally was just for shenanigans but eventually got emotions, as all my AUs do. I’ll make a full post explaining it later, but here’s a little bit of how MK and Sun Wukong first met and the aftermath of that in this AU.

Enjoy!

Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, was certainly different from what MK expected, for both better and worse.

He wore robes that would fit a monk more than anything else, once bright, rich colored fabrics faded from the wear of time. Golden armor was layered over the clothing yet it didn’t take having an eye for fashion to see that they didn’t match well together. A familiar golden circlet curled around his head as if it’s always belonged there.

Strange fashion aside, the fact that Monkey King’s warm smile didn’t quite reach his tired eyes was enough to make MK decide right away.

Like Pigsy, Tang, Sandy, and Mei before him, the Monkey King… Sun Wukong was also one of MK’s.

After all, he had a habit to taking in the troubled, the broken, and the abandoned. He actively sought them out. Cared for them. Showed them how to care for themselves. Whether or not they chose to stay afterwards was no concern. As long as he knew they were going to be alright on their own without him there.

MK already knew that Sun Wukong was going to be one of the ones who stayed.

“Hello, little one. It’s a pleasure to finally get to meet you face to face.” MK only let out a slight huff as the monkey’s tail wrapped around his waist, picking him up off the ground and back to his feet without any visible effort. He thought with how much snacks he carried around in his backpack, he’d at least weigh something.

“What, you been following me? ...Now wait a hot second-” As soon as he said those words, the puzzle pieces began to click in his mind: the butterfly which he saw on Sandy’s boat and the strange bird which caused him to fall on Red Son, all with suspiciously similar colors and markings. “You have been following me!”

Wukong couldn’t help a slight chuckle at the realization on his face, restraining himself from full on belly laughing.

He was always holding himself back, nothing he wasn’t used to.

“Observant, aren’t you? Why I’d say you’re perfect, my boy.”

“What the hell are you on about, perfect for what?” He let out a squawk in surprise as he was suddenly lifted in the air by Wukong.

“Why to be my successor, of course!”

Silence. MK took in a deep breath, rubbing his temples before he finally found the words to speak.

“You know what? Fine! This is fine, considering how absolutely insane the rest of my day has been! I’ll be your successor, need to beat DBK’s ass anyway before he lays waste to the city. But on one condition.”

“And what might that be, young one?”

“You’re gonna be my dad now.” MK could see the mental equivalent of a record scratching in Wukong’s head at his demand. It was his turn to find amusement in being able to leave an immortal being far older than him floundering and confused for a good few minutes.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nah, you’re fine. I have this thing where I like to take care of people who can’t care for themselves, though Pigsy calls it ‘people collecting’ but that’s besides the point. And I can tell you’re a mess, so you’re mine now. Welcome to the family motherfucker!”

And it wasn’t long after that that MK managed to drag Wukong off the mountain he’d isolated himself on for 500 years. With his newfound mentor as well as father’s advice, MK was able to retrieve his staff back from the Demon Bull family and in the aftermath of the battle, he introduced the Monkey King to his family while he stormed the kitchen to make them a meal.

Pigsy couldn’t help the quiet chuckle at the Monkey King being left in a complete daze.

“You’ll get used to it Mr. Sun. MK certainly has that effect on people.”

He certainly wouldn’t ever forget the scrappy teenager that stomped into his shop one day, noticing he was struggling a bit in running the place by himself and essentially hired himself as an assistant cook and delivery boy. Before Pigsy knew it, MK had made himself a home above the shop and had started calling him ‘Pop’ without any hesitation.

Tang nodded in agreement, trying his best to enjoy the moment of peace from the constant onslaught of work while the city recovered from the battle.

One moment, he was struggling to juggle all his books while stopping for some dinner at this new noodle shop he was recommended by his co-workers. During one of the few moments he could slow down and speak with them, of course. The next moment, MK had wrestled the books from him, sat him down, and had a fresh bowl of noodles with a cup of warm tea ready for him somehow. Noticing his books mentioning Journey to the West, he had been roped into a conversation about the lore of Sun Wukong that lasted for hours before Tang finally noticed how much time had passed. Even though he left in a rush, Tang found himself coming back and being welcomed by MK and Pigsy with the exact same order every time.

“Yeah, he just decides he likes you and before you know it, you’re a part of his family and he’s willing to do almost anything for you,” Mei explained, still not quite used to being in the presence of someone like Sun Wukong but doing her best to be polite.

She remembered what had been a rare walk outside her home into the city became her getting lost without her phone. Her distress must have been evident because MK had literally stopped his cart right beside the road, offering her a ride to someplace with a phone.

“Note for the future, don’t accept rides from complete strangers in the city. This one time is an exception but just don’t be stupid, okay?” His words were harsh but it made Mei think of the older brothers she watched on TV, who wanted to protect their younger siblings without making it obvious they cared.

Eventually she ended up like they all do, at Pigsy’s shop with a fresh bowl of noodles in front of her. She could never get rid of MK after that.

None of them can truly. And in full honesty, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sun Wukong was truly starting to realize just who he had chose as his successor and was all the more convinced he made a good choice.

Hopefully his master is proud, wherever he is now.

[blanc-et-n0ir]

Team Work

(Decided to do "Writing rivals centric drabbles to feed #RIVALSTWT until the two of them lore stream again. This drabble was inspired by Naeruns' SkyWars! Techno and Manhunt!Dream AU. Day 6)

Techno raised his eyebrow at Dream, “You want me to what, again?”

“I want you to join me in a manhunt!” Dream grinned brightly. “It’ll be fun!”

“When I dropkick your ass and win?” Techno smirked, leaning back as he watched Dream splutter.

“No! I meant- I meant as a team! We could both speedrun, maybe increase the number of hunters and change some of the rules but overall it’ll be us two against the hunters! A duo speedrun!” Dream explained as he waved his hands around.

“Won’t that be unfair?” Techno tilted his head. “I’m not that good with speedrunning but I’m pretty good with fighting on the fly and adapting depending on the weapons and itinerary I have.”

“I mean-” Dream scratched the back of his neck as he shuffled on his feet, “I think we can think of something. Maybe add more hunters and stuff?”

“Did you talk about this with the rest?” Techno snorted.

“No but you’re coming with me to do it!” Dream grinned and Techno let himself get dragged but his blonde friend.

It wasn’t long before they reached the main server where Dream and his friends prepared for Manhunts. Techno snorted as he watched Dream explain his plan to his friends—watching with great amusement as the rest started to pale incredibly as they looked between Dream and him.

“No.”

“What? Why!?” Dream whined, hanging off of George’s arm as he continued to pester the brunette. Sapnap was behind Dream, shaking his head alarmingly while Bad was motioning for George to shut it down. Ant and Sam were even further from the two as they whispered between each other worriedly.

“I actually think it’s a good idea.” Techno piped up before George could say anything. Dream brightened up considerably and Techno smirked when the hunters paled. “What? You can add whoever you want on your hunter team, anyways.”

“We’d like a hundred more people then.” Sapnap crossed his arms.

“That’s stupid, Sapnap.” Dream rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fun! You can have Tommy and the others! Oh, do you think Wilbur and Phil would like to join?”

“Definitely.” Techno felt his smirk widen, his cheeks hurting at how much he was smiling. This was going to be fun. “Let’s call them over.”

“Great! I’m gonna take a week to help Techno out with some of the ropes and practice! Maybe we both can record a Manhunt together as well—the same one I did with Illumina!” Dream clapped his hands excitedly. “This should be fun!”

“It would—very fun.” Techno met the eyes of the hunters as life left it and they were dragging their feet away so they could practice. Maybe write their wills during the week they had.

A week later, Techno and Dream completely decimated the hunters and Dream had to promise not to do something like this ever again. Quackity, as the lone spectator and commentator, had laughed himself to oblivion that they had to wipe out his entire bit and just edit music and their banter into the final video.