#bon jovi packs

[bublinko]

Bon Jovi stickers

Available here

[steddielations]

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

[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

[apomaro-mellow]

Matchmaking Harringtons 1

After a nice, hearty breakfast the Harrington family packed into the car and drove off to the mall for some shopping. They didn't have any set summer plans yet but that could always change. In fact, Steve's parents were formulating some schemes while he busied himself looking through a rack of shorts.

"He could always meet people on a cruise", Diane suggested.

"True, but Steve would need his own suite", Jonas said.

"Well we would've given him one anyway."

"What about a trip to Paris? The most romantic city in the world."

"And get his heart broken by one of those flighty Europeans? I think not", Diane vetoed.

Jonas shrugged. "It's a summer romance."

"There's a difference between a summer romance and a summer fling."

"....There is?"

"And besides, didn't we say we wanted him to get serious with someone?"

"True. A nice fella to settle down with", Jonas said, almost with a dreamy sigh as he thought about his son NOT being in the rumor mill for once.

"I didn't mean that serious", Diane said.

"Well all of this means nothing if we can't find anyone."

"Are you guys still talking about my love life? Which I remind you is none of your business?", Steve asked, chosen shorts in hand.

"Actually, we were talking about our love life", Jonas said before pulling his wife close and kissing her cheek.

It got the desired reaction from their son, a groan as he averted his eyes. After getting a couple of things to spruce up their wardrobe, Steve thought he could break free, but they truly planned to make a day of the trip.

His mom wanted some new sunglasses and his dad spent an inhuman amount of time searching for a new wallet. When he was younger, his parents rewarded his patience with an ice cream cone or something to that effect.

Now that he was older, he preferred other things. But his folks still knew his tells well, so it only took him glancing at the music store before Diane was leading them towards it.

"If we take a road trip, we need something to listen to. Pick something good."

She said this to both her husband and son, but Steve was the one moving, slowly towards a standee in the store.

"Holy...I can't believe it!"

"You like this guy?", Diane asked. The standee was of a man, with what must be their latest music in cassette form.

Steve looked at her like she was living under a rock. "Mom, you don't just 'like' Bon Jovi you...This", he picked up one of the cassette tapes, "Is something to be treasured."

"So you really like him."

"Not just him!", Steve said quickly, his face getting a little pink. "It's a whole band not just one guy."

While Steve was talking to his mother about what was apparently a well-liked music group, Jonas was having a moment of enlightenment. Because he saw the standee and then he saw the cashier. It was like the two of them were cut from the same cloth. Like they had the same mold.

Jonas wasn't crazy about the long hair and ripped jeans, but at least the t-shirt with the store's logo was clean. And he was wearing a nametag too. That showed some level of professionalism. He spent probably a little too long looking at him because the guy looked up as if he could feel eyes on him.

Jonas tried to meet his wife's gaze and bless her, she met his eyes right away. He sort of gave a nod towards the cashier and she looked, her lips widening into a smile as she regarded both the flesh and blood man and the one made out of cardboard. They were both thinking the same thing.

He's perfect.

Moving in sync, Diane kept Steve busy looking at other musical selections while Jonas stepped up to the counter.

"Sooo", Jonas started.

"Sooo, you ready to check out?", the cashier, Eddie said.

"I'm not actually purchasing just yet. But speaking of checking out...", Jonas turned slightly and to turn the attention to his son. "What do you think of him?"

"Umm..."

"He's a handsome fella, right?"

"Iiiis this entrapment?"

"Oh! Oh god no, don't worry, I'm his father."

"That doesn't make this any less awkward", Eddie said.

"Let me explain. My son...We want him to find someone special. And my wife and I think you might be a favorable suitor."

Eddie looked to Steve again, checking him out just a little. "And he's uh, you know, open to being courted? By someone like me?"

"Pretty open", Jonas nodded, keeping his voice low so their conversation remained as private as it could be in such a public place.

Eddie's hands were braced against the counter as he tilted his head and looked at Steve once again and Jonas could tell when someone was interested, even if they played for the other team.

"What the hell, I'll go for it."

"Perfect." Jonas beamed and moved away from the register.

After pretending to peruse for a bit more, Jonas sent Steve with some cash to buy the music they'd all picked out. He put an arm around his wife as they watched him approach Eddie.

"Well? Do I know how to pick 'em or what?"

"You got lucky", Diane said, annoyed but fond. "So, what's he like?"

"....I don't know."

"Jonas!", Diane hissed in a whisper and smacked his shoulder. "You sent our son to go flirt with a stranger and you don't even know what kind of man he is?"

"He looks like Steve's type. And he seemed nice. Has a stable job-"

"You're not a fan of the hair, are you?", Diane clocked her husband.

"It's a little lengthy. Not quite marriage material. But maybe he'll cut it before proposing."

"Who's talking about marriage?"

Jonas gave her a look. "He's a man now. And we said he needs to get serious."

"You'd let your son marry a bad boy?"

"You did", Jonas grinned.

Diane kissed his cheek. "You were barely a miscreant. And you mellowed out in your old age."

Jonas was about to say something back when Steve returned to them, music bought and bagged up.

"So uh, that cashier was somethin' huh?", Jonas said.

"What? Yeah, I guess."

While Steve was walking out of the store, Diane and Jonas shared a worried look. It had looked like he was having a fine talk with Eddie but maybe they had been mistaken. But even if they had miscalculated, they could still course correct.

Part 3

Tag Team

@tartarusknight

[nerdygoth77]

Songs and bands that I think belong in Fallout

Most of these are heavy metal or rock! So be prepared :)

*"Let's Hang Together" - by Twin Temple. (This band is described as Satanic doo wop and their tune and vibe matches Fallout perfectly. Older sounding music but with a darker vibe.)

*The album called "Hail the Apocalypse" - by the band Avatar. This album has a couple of apocalypse related songs. This album (And the band) really reminds me of the perk Wild Wasteland. The apocalypse is a dangerous and brooding place, but there's a certain level of wackiness and uneasiness to it all. Kind of like a Freak Show.

Smells Like a Freak Show is actually the name of a song on another Avatar album. It also makes me think of Fallout, mainly raiders. The album is called the Black Waltz. The song "Smells Like a Freakshow" Makes me think of The Pack in Nuka World lol

*Every single one of Bon Jovi's songs. Every single one, especially the album "Slippery When Wet."

*Iron Maiden. I really enjoy how they sing about history, war, folklore, stories, etc. All of their songs are incredible, but some of them really fit the Fallout vibes. The song "When The Wild Wind Blows" Is a very emotional and moving song about the end of the world. The world ends in that song by nukes, just like in fallout. Even if you don't like metal I still suggest reading the lyrics, Iron maiden has some incredible story telling.

*Megadeth! They have numerous songs about the apocalypse, how much war sucks, and how the government is terrible. Perfectly fitting for Fallout. Just prepare yourself for the lead singers voice lol

*Black Sabbath - One of the founding fathers of rock. A lot of their songs protest war and the government. Their song "War Pigs" is fitting for fallout's world, along with many others.

*The rest of the "Unholy Trinity" and founding fathers of heavy metal. Led Zepplin and Deep purple.

*Maybe other classic rock bands and singers, like Kansas, Aeorsmith, Heart, Rolling stones, Cheap Trick, and Motley Crue. But these bands are getting awfully close to the divorced dad rock category so always keep that in mind.

*Dangerous Toys (A lot of the rock bands/hairbands that took a more humorous turn really remind me of Fallout. A few Dangerous Toys songs remind me of the radio host "Redeye" from Nuka World's raider radio. Mainly the songs "Gimme' No Lip" and "Teas'n Pleas'n"

*I really want to say Slipknot and Nu metal as a whole. I know Slipknot, Korn, Limp Bizkit, Deftones and System of A Down don't fit Fallout as well as some of the other bands and songs. But the idea of hearing "Break Stuff" While out in the wastes is very entertaining to me.

*Metallica (Just their vibes and sound feel so right for the universe of fallout. Their songs are often about struggles and intense emotions like despair and grief.

*Maybe bands that are nuclear apocalypse and similar themed. Like Nuclear Assault, Municipal Waste, and many more.

*This is more of a headcanon: I love the idea of Pre-bombs Fallout having a large punk/hardcore scene, and lots and lots of Hippies. Just so many people out there doing drugs/chems, living life, protesting war and writing music.

These are just some of the bands that I think would fit into Fallout! If you think I left something out then comment the band/singer! If you have any thoughts/headcanons please share those as well!!

[thatrickmcginnis]

ALICE COOPER Toronto 1989

You could not have grown up in the '70s without being aware of Alice Cooper, the band or the man - by now it's an academic point. Shock rock or glam or punk precursor, the band led by the eponymous Alice (born Vincent Furnier in Detroit in 1948) made a major mark on the decade with albums like Love It to Death, Killer, School's Out, Billion Dollar Babies and Welcome to My Nightmare. I was delighted - and a little bit frightened - when I was assigned to take Alice's portrait for NOW magazine a few months into working full-time for the paper. I had heard stories - at some point in the '70s and early '80s Alice had nearly killed himself trying to live up to his image (see the 2014 documentary Super Duper Alice Cooper) - but everyone kept reassuring me: "He's a really nice guy. You'll see."

Alice Cooper, by now a solo act, was in town promoting the record that would make his major comeback at the end of the '80s, Trash, on which members of Bon Jovi and Aerosmith as well as Dead Boy Stiv Bators made guest appearances. (Alice always had punk rock bona fides: don't forget that John Lydon lip synched to "I'm Eighteen" on the jukebox of Vivienne Westwood's shop when he tried out for the Sex Pistols.) He ended up playing the Skydome (now the Rogers Centre) on New Years Eve that year, so I suppose I was assigned this shoot in advance of that gig. I took my new Nikon F3 and Rolleiflex and some lighting up the elevator to a suite at the old Sutton Place Hotel and found Alice waiting, surrounded by record company people and his manager. I quickly scanned the room to find a decent location for what I assumed would be the usual lightning quick shoot.

Did I have "School's Out" and "I'm Eighteen" playing in my head when I shook Alice Cooper's hand in that hotel suite in the fall of 1989? No doubt I did, but I had to find a spot for our shoot and settled on an antique chair with brocade upholstery in front of a wall where the flocked pattern on the curtains and wallpaper matched each other. I thought the formal, floral background would contrast with Alice in his leather vest and skinny jeans, but for a moment I thought I made a mistake explaining this when his beefy manager said that he didn't think it was a good idea for Alice.

Gratefully - you have no idea how tough it is to pivot during a shoot when you have one idea and no time - Alice disagreed and said he thought it was a great idea, and his manager backed off. The shoot went fast: Alice mugged and glowered for me, slipping in and out of the Alice persona, while I shot a roll each on the Nikon and the Rollei, and then I got the high sign from his manager, packed up and thanked Alice for his time. And yes - he turned out to be "Mr. Nice Guy", in the best possible way.

[dear-ao3]

saphs song prompt challenge

ring in the new year with me and a silly challenge. any fandom, any genre. only rule is that you must use the song to inspire the fic. multi chap, one shot all are welcome. do as many or as little as you want, on time or not! doesnt matter to me. most fall into the angst/hurt comfort genre because that's what i write best but i threw in some other more happy ones

theres a collection link on ao3 for them here

all of these songs are some of my favorites to write to/about and i wanted to share :)

on each day of the month ill post some of my favorite lines/a bit of analysis of each song if anyone needs a bit of inspiration. happy writing everyone

the songs:

jan 1: quite miss home by james arthur

jan 2: lonely eyes by lauv

jan 3: dear reader by taylor swift

jan 4: my friends toyota by asiris

jan 5: montana by mikey ferrari

jan 6: girl on the internet by knox

jan 7: 3 am by matchbox 20

jan 8: jet pack blues by fall out boy

jan 9: love u like that by lauv

jan 10: line without a hook by ricky montgomery

jan 11: who says you can't go home by bon jovi

jan 12: just to hear you say that you love me by faith hill

jan 13: honest by the chainsmokers

jan 14: two by sleeping at last

jan 15: i hate your friends by alex cole

jan 16: safe inside by james arthur

jan 17: all i want by kodaline

jan 18: almost lover by a fine frenzy

jan 19: stick season by noah kahan

jan 20: if i could fly by one direction

jan 21: what am i by why don't we

jan 22: falling slowly from once

jan 23: the night we met by lord huron

jan 24: roaring 20s by panic! at the disco

jan 25: wonder by shawn mendes

jan 26: best years by 5 seconds of summer

jan 27: one way ticket by one ok rock

jan 28: falling by harry styles

jan 29: give me love by ed sheeran

jan 30: illicit affairs by taylor swift

jan 31: shallow by lady gaga and bradley cooper

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You’re Alone, Do You Let Go? || Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 20A: I Don't Need Nothing When I'm By Your Side

So hold me close, better hang on tight Buckle up, baby, it's a bumpy ride We're two kids hitching down the road of life Our world, our fight

-- “Born To Be My Baby,” Bon Jovi (1988) [click here to listen]

North Carolina || February 1989

Jamie frowned, looking back and forth between the shelf he’d just put together and the three unpacked boxes of books (two marked CLAIRE, one marked JAMIE).

Would she like them organized alphabetically by author? Genre? Size?

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Or perhaps she wanted medical books in her workroom? And maybe he could put his music books on the cabinet in his studio –

“There you are.”

He hadn’t heard Claire pad into the room – at some point they would need to get throw rugs to protect the gorgeous old hardwood floors – and smiled as she effortlessly stepped into his embrace.

They held each other for a long moment – his lips against her hair, her face buried in the safety of his neck.

Almost three months since the acoustic tour had ended, the night before Claire’s birthday. About six weeks since they had closed on their dream house, nestled against a mountain in the forests of North Carolina, not too far from The Ridge. And about two weeks since the items in storage – from her packed-up apartment in Boston, and his packed-up house in Los Angeles – had arrived.

The property had everything they needed. Privacy and solitude, of course. An old barn that they were using as a garage for Jamie’s motorcycle and cars. The house – an old cabin, really, dating from the 1800s and which had been lovingly expanded over the years – was perfect. A spacious living room, complete with the original stone fireplace. An eat-in kitchen, with newly replaced appliances. Two small rooms off the back that were now his music studio and her workroom – spaces to pursue their interests. A modestly-sized master bedroom. And a small extra bedroom – which for now was for guests, though God willing would be a nursery very soon.

Claire had insisted on doing two things quickly, before spending their time unpacking all the boxes.

The first was to hang his six gold and two platinum records in his studio – and he agreed, after he had hung her framed medical school diploma on the wall of her workroom.

The second was to install the fax machine on the bare floor of the studio – which, together with the phone, was their only link to the outside world.

For as much as they isolated themselves in this beautiful, peaceful place – the world pushed along without them.

In March, they would leave for L.A. and three weeks of rehearsals with the band. Maybe play a few small gigs in clubs on the Sunset Strip – Jamie had always wanted to do that. And in April, they’d fly to Europe, and kick off the tour that had swelled to 120 dates and stretched into 1990.

Colum was busier than ever – finalizing logistics, negotiating with local promoters, running interference with the suits from the label, upgrading the concerts from arenas to soccer stadiums. He had a conference call with the band every Tuesday – with Ian calling in from Lallybroch in upstate New York, and Angus from various resort spots in Mexico and the Caribbean (“I can’t believe Charlotte and Molly haven’t worn him out yet,” Jamie had mused to Claire one day. She had only shrugged and said, “they take care of each other”). Colum would always have a punchlist of decisions for the band – OK to book studio time during the week off in Scandinavia in July? The roadies couldn’t figure out the pyro setup without the band, OK to wait until rehearsals? They would need to film at least three music videos, which one could be a live performance? – and follow up with decisions in a fax sent later that day.

Jamie had been clear with Colum that he had three conditions for the tour: that Claire would be with him, that Raymond would be traveling with the band, and that the same no alcohol/drugs/groupies rule from the acoustic tour would carry through to this tour. Of course Colum had agreed. Just as he’d agreed to make provisions for Jenny to periodically fly out to visit Ian, and for Angus to always have a suite with two bathrooms to keep his girlfriends happy.

Claire and Jamie knew that this tour would be difficult, for so many different reasons. But they would be better prepared this time, to draw strength from each other, and to have Raymond for support. And maybe, just maybe they would return home from Europe with the best souvenir of all…

“Another fax from Colum,” Claire murmured after a long while.

Jamie snorted against her hair. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.”

“I do admire how hard he’s working for you and for the band. And how much he’s keeping all of you in the loop on the decisions he’s making. He doesn’t want any surprises.”

“I’d imagine not. The amount of bullshit he has to be putting up with right now must be insane. I just hope he doesn’t crack.”

“He never said if he’s bringing Tricia on the tour.” Tricia – Colum’s wife of more than ten years. She stood a head taller than her husband, still impossibly beautiful in her late thirties, smiling for every frown on her husband’s face. Claire had only met her once – couldn’t say she really knew her – but she knew enough about her.

How she had first met Colum at a party in 1970, when he was a roadie for Led Zeppelin and she was part of a gaggle of groupies that held court at the Riot House in L.A.

How, when she and her girlfriends joined the Led Zep tour the following summer, he had punched out the lighting guy at the Cow Palace in San Francisco when he heard the guy didn’t understand what Tricia meant by saying “no”.

How Geordie Ash – the reporter who had put Jamie (and, in a way, Claire) on the map last year with that Rolling Stone article – had sent flowers to her hotel room every day for a month during Led Zeppelin’s 1973 U.S. tour. Not knowing, of course, that she was allergic to lilies – or how Colum, who knew more about her by that point than he cared to admit, had wordlessly disposed of them for her, every day that month.

“I don’t think she likes to tour.” Jamie’s thumb traced lazy circles on the skin of Claire’s back. “Too many bad memories.”

If you asked any rock journalist or musician who had found Alex MacGregor – assistant to Led Zeppelin manager Peter Grant – dead in his Seattle hotel room in the spring of 1975, they would all say quite confidently that it had been Colum Laird, who by that point had advanced to lead Zeppelin’s touring crew.

But a handful of people – Peter Grant, and Colum, and Jamie, and now Claire – knew the truth.

Tricia woke up, Alex cold beside her in bed, a needle in his arm. The only thing she knew to do was slip quietly down the hall, tumbling into Colum’s room…and finally, his arms. Where she had remained ever since.

“I couldn’t imagine being away from you for so long.” Claire sighed. “I don’t know how they make it work.”

Jamie shrugged. “They love each other very deeply. They fixed the broken pieces in each other. And now she has the two boys to keep her busy.” He kissed her forehead. “Something for us to aspire to, perhaps. What’s in the fax?”

She held it out for him to read. Sharing a smile at Colum’s scrawl.

J+C: I’m not calling because I interrupted enough moments between you on tour and I’ll probably do it again this year. I don’t have Raymond’s info pls have him get in touch so we have a copy of his credentials and the travel agent can make all arrangements for Europe. I got the label to foot the bill for his travel meals and hotels, convinced them it’s a business expense, you’re welcome. Stay out of trouble. Colum.

“We’ll have him give Colum a call after he arrives this afternoon,” Jamie mused, folding the fax and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Claire nodded. “The guest room is all ready. And I’m glad Dougal and Gillian and William will be here tomorrow – I’m so happy they’re so close by.”

Jamie squeezed her shoulder, and released her. “As am I. Now, I have a question for you about these books…”

[440mxs-wife]

Forget About Him

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader. Other characters: Benny (not a vampire), Arthur Ketch. Mentioned: Mick Davies, Ash, Castiel, Gabriel, Michael, Chuck, Balthazar, Jody, Donna, Max, and Alicia Banes. OMC's Patrick and Josh, OFC's Gracie and Karlee

Word Count: 4768 (including lyrics)

Warnings: Cheating, bachelor/bachelorette party, allusion to sexy times, Dean as an exotic dancer (hubba hubba)

Summary: Reader and Patrick are bridesmaid and groomsman for their friends, Josh and Gracie. The Reader makes a heartbreaking discovery at the joint bachelor/bachelorette party at Club Karma. Fortunately, Dean is there to help her pick up the pieces of her broken heart and give her the show of a lifetime.

A/N: This is an expansion on my entry for @deanwanddamons Rock SPN Flash Fan Fic Challenge 3. It uses lyrics from You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Patrick?" you called as you carefully applied your eyeliner. After hearing no response, you tried again. "Patrick, honey, are you ready to go yet? Josh and Gracie will be here any minute to pick us up," you reminded him.

Tonight was the joint bachelor/bachelorette party for your friends, Josh and Gracie, who were due to be married in a matter of weeks. You were one of Gracie's bridesmaids, while Patrick was one of Josh's groomsmen. The party was being held at Club Karma, where the venue was split into two sides. Josh and his friends would be entertained by scantily-clad women, while the men with six-pack abs were on tap for your side.

As you walked into the living room, you noticed that Patrick was on his phone, speaking to someone in a low voice. While he continued his conversation, you finished putting in your right earring and then stood waiting for him. You wondered who he was talking to, and why it seemed like he was trying to keep the conversation secret.

This was only one of a few signs that lately had you questioning your relationship with Patrick. Over the past few weeks, Patrick had been coming home late on more than a few nights. Dinner for one was a frequent occurrence and a rather lonely affair. Your nights often ended with you falling asleep on the couch, waiting up for him.

You know he's aware of this, because he wakes you up to leave the couch and join him in bed. However, each time you've tried to broach the subject to Patrick, he brushes you off. He assures you that there's nothing to worry about, that it's only work stuff that keeps him so late. He promised to spend more time with you when his job wasn't so busy, then he'd disappear into the study to take a phone call in hushed tones.

You couldn't imagine what it was about his job that would require him to work so many late nights. Maybe his boss gave him some big project? Or....could it be another woman? you thought, your heart sinking a bit more as he finally stood up from his chair.

"Yeah, see you later, Karl," he said before hanging up the phone, his back still to you. He heaved a deep sigh and tilted his head towards the ceiling. He seemed startled when he turned around to see you standing before him. "Oh! Didn't see you standing there," he remarked, then frowned as he checked his watch. "I hope you're ready to go, because I believe Josh and Gracie are here for us."

"Yes, Patrick, I'm ready, just need to grab my handbag. So, um, who was that on the phone?" you asked.

"That? Oh, that was just Karl. New guy at work, only been with us for a short time. Had to go over some documents I gave him yesterday," Patrick hastily replied.

"On a Saturday night?" you questioned, a note of suspicion obvious in your tone.

"Not this again. Yes, sweetheart, on a Saturday night," he responded with a roll of his eyes. "The guy's a workaholic, but his work is more than satisfactory, which is why he'll probably be moved up soon to my area permanently," he answered.

"Oh. That's good," you added absently. "Maybe then you'll actually start getting home at a decent hour," you mumbled under your breath. Or he's only saying this to cover something up, which is the more likely explanation, you inwardly frowned. Your attention was diverted by a horn sounding outside. You drew back the curtains and smiled when you saw the party bus rented for the evening's transportation.

From the back of the chair, you grabbed your shawl in case there was a chill in the air later that evening. In your purse, you placed your lip gloss, your wallet with some cash, cards, and your ID, plus your phone. The side doors for the party bus were wide open, with Josh and Gracie standing on the steps. Gracie gave you a hug, then pulled you over to sit next to her as her fiancé and your boyfriend found their seats.

"Is this everyone?" the driver called to the group.

"Yep, they're the last ones!" Gracie affirmed enthusiastically. "Driver, please take us to our destination, Club Karma!" A round of cheers rose from the group at the mention of the club's name. The driver shook his head in amusement and headed for the club.

***

"Hey there, fellas," drawled a voice as it entered the dancers' dressing room.

"Well, hey there yourself, Dean-O! Wait a minute, what're you doin' here? I thought this was your day off," observed Benny.

"It is my day off. However, Jody called and talked me into working. All because we have not one, not two, but three, count them, three bachelorette parties tonight," Dean explained.

"Now, that's what I'm talking about! Let's get this party started!" chimed in Arthur Ketch. He was one of five dancers in the extremely popular "Urban Legend" group. The other members included Dean's best friend, Benny Lafitte, and Ketch's best friend, Mick Davies. Rookie dancer Max Banes had a sister, Alicia, who also worked at the club, but as a mixologist. Dean was usually front and center, though, the one who performed the solo dances with the women pulled from the crowd.

Urban Legend was the headliner, while the "God Squad" warmed up the crowd. Their members consisted of brothers Castiel and Gabriel Novak, Balthazar, Michael, and Chuck Shurley. Each man had different colored "wings" strapped to his bare back as part of his costume. They surveyed the clientele, giving the Legends a read on the room. They also made suggestions on which of the lucky ladies from the crowd should potentially join them on stage.

"With three bachelorette parties tonight, should be a wild ride, eh brother?" Benny grinned as he nudged Dean's arm. "Hey, you all right?" he asked.

Dean broke out of his trance and turned to look at Benny. "Yeah, I'm fine, why do you ask?"

"Because you've got that same thousand-yard stare you've had for the past several months. Plus, you look like you'd rather be anywhere but here," he answered. "Wait a minute. Is this about Lisa?"

"No! No, no, this is not about--this is not--okay, yeah. It's about Lisa," Dean muttered. "After three years, I was finally going to propose to her, dammit! Only to find out she's shacking up with some hippie-dippie douchebag from her yoga class. He doesn't even eat meat, for cryin' out loud!" he grumbled.

Benny sighed and tried to suppress his laughter at Dean's last remark. "Listen, I know you were together for a long time, and it's only been eight months since you broke up. But that's why tonight is gonna be so great! You're a free man now, and there are plenty of gorgeous women out there for you to choose from. You know what they say, right? The best way to get over a woman is to get a new one underneath you," he smirked and then waggled his eyebrows.

Dean let out a booming laugh and clapped Benny on the shoulder a couple of times. "You are absolutely right, my friend. Thank you, brother," he remarked.

"Anytime, Dean-O, anytime," Benny grinned.

The God Squad was about halfway through their routine, while Urban Legend finished getting ready for their turn in the spotlight. Dean stepped out of the dressing room and poked his head around the curtain to survey the crowd.

This house is packed, he thought with a smile, which should definitely be good for business all around. From the servers and the mixologists, to the bouncers and the dancers, everyone should be making bank tonight. He was about to return to the dressing room when his eyes landed on you.

You were wearing a pale pink skater dress made of woven crepe material, with a tiered skirt and a hem that reached mid-thigh. It had a sweetheart neckline and short, slightly puffy sleeves and a corseted bodice. You had on your favorite taupe shoes with a t-strap and a 1-inch block heel, keeping your make-up and jewelry simple. A sash with "Bridesmaid" written on it in silver glitter script lettering was draped across your chest.

"Whoa. Helloooo, Gorgeous," he whispered to himself. He watched as your friends tried tugging on your arm to get you out on the dance floor, but you gave them a sweet smile and gentle shake of your head. They protested, clasping their hands in front of them in a last-ditch effort, praying for you to join them. You softly laughed and assured them that you would be fine by yourself for the final dance before his group came on.

One thing bothered Dean, though, and it was how your smile didn't appear to be genuine. The faraway look in your eyes was a familiar one for him, like the one he had because of Lisa. For someone who was supposed to be celebrating her friend's upcoming nuptials, you looked as though you'd rather be anywhere but here. Dean smiled to himself when he realized he'd found his "spotlight lady" for the evening.

***

Sixty seconds. Sixty more seconds and he might've gotten away with it. A whole minute longer and you wouldn't have seen them. Unfortunately, your nagging suspicions were proven correct, because you finally caught your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend in the act. He was leaving the hallway to the bathrooms, making out with fellow bridesmaid but soon-to-be ex-friend, Karlee.

An angel's smile is what you sellYou promised me Heaven, then put me through HellChains of love got a hold on meWhen passion's a prison, you can't break free

Karlee had left the table to use the restroom, or so she'd said. When she'd been gone for nearly twenty minutes, you decided to look for her. You paused in the hallway after hearing giggles that sounded like Karlee, so you turned to go back to the table. As soon as you took two steps down the hall, you heard Patrick's voice tell Karlee how beautiful she was and saw her pull him in for a deep kiss.

Shot through the heart and you're to blameYou give love a bad name (bad name)I play my part and you play your gameYou give love a bad name (bad name)

"When are you gonna tell her?" Karlee asked between his kisses and her panting breaths. "I hate being able to only see you in the office when we 'work late' together," she whined.

Patrick paused his kissing assault on her neck to look her in the eye. "After the wedding, I promise I'll tell her. Then we can be together all the time, out in the open, away from work. If I do it now, it'll mess up the wedding processional," he explained. "Gracie has us paired up to walk down the aisle."

"It's not fair," she pouted. "Gracie has me walking with Josh's little cousin. If you break it off now, I can be on your arm, while she'll have to be with Brandon."

"I know, Babe, but think of how awkward it would be, us at the same wedding after breaking up right before it. I couldn't do that to her," he reasoned.

"You're so thoughtful," she remarked in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Now hurry and kiss me like you mean it, because I've probably been gone too long from the table. Someone's probably looking for me," Karlee added.

"Well, we can't have that, now can we," he replied with a sexy smile before he crashed his lips to hers. The smile that used to be reserved especially for you.

Tears sprang to your eyes, and you fought to push them away. You hurried back to the table and sat down next to Gracie just as they announced the headliner, Urban Legend. Your heart wasn't into partying anymore, but you didn't want to ruin Gracie's night. So, you plastered on a smile and focused your attention on the stage and the man in the middle of the group, whose name was Dean.

He was wearing dark wash denim jeans that hugged his bowed legs and molded perfectly to his backside. The sleeves of his white T-shirt were cut off, and there was a red and black flannel shirt tied around his waist. Gracie's table was near the front of the stage where Dean was standing, so you had an unobstructed view of his exquisite physique.

The music started, the low, pulsating beat creating a framework for the group to settle into their routine. When the music changed, Dean slowly sauntered towards the edge and made a show of scanning the crowd. The DJ announced he was searching for a woman to single out for what he stated was a "Spotlight Dance".

Dean's piercing gaze locked onto you and a sexy grin showcasing his pearly whites stretched across his chiseled, lightly stubbled face. He held out his hand in your direction, but you looked at Gracie, thinking he meant to dance with her as the bride-to-be. Gracie smiled as she shook her head, then nudged your elbow, causing you to return your focus to Dean. He dropped to his knees and nodded at you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sultry smirk.

Slowly you rose up from your chair and made your way up onto the stage, accepting Dean's hand in the process. He stood up and pulled you towards him roughly so your body was nearly flush against his. You caught a whiff of his woodsy cologne, as his finger traced your jawline. Then Dean leaned close to your ear. "Babygirl, I'm gonna make you forget all about that cheatin' sonafabitch," he whispered.

"What?" you breathed. "How do you--"

"I saw him making out with that other chick in the hallway by the restrooms. Don't worry, sweetheart, I've got you," he grinned. While he was talking to you, Benny had placed an armless chair in the center of the stage. Dean took a few steps away from you and held out his hand, allowing you to decline, but silently praying for you to accept. To his relief, you gave him a genuine smile and with an imperceptible nod, took his hand.

With a blinding white smile, Dean carefully enveloped your hand in his, then raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. He led you over to the chair and you sat down, but kept your focus completely on him even after he released your hand. He took a few steps away from you and slipped into a routine of sensual dance moves, causing the women to howl in appreciation.

Not quite sure what to do with your hands, you kept them folded in your lap for the moment. From what you'd heard about places like this, there were rules about the amount of physical contact that was allowed between entertainer and patron. You were counting on Dean's guidance in this area. While you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, you were nearly craving the feel of his taut muscles under your fingertips.

After he finished his warm-up, he nodded to someone offstage. Suddenly, all of the lights in the main room were dimmed but a spotlight was left on Dean. You quickly glanced around, and you couldn't make out any of the faces in the crowd. It felt like you and Dean were the only ones in the room, which caused your heart to race.

Dean slowly sauntered over to you, the spotlight following his every move. He stopped behind you, his hands coming to rest on the back of your chair. He itched to let his fingertips graze your soft-looking skin, to comb his fingers through your tresses. You were right, there were rules about physical contact. However, his bosses, Jody and Donna, allowed each dancer to decide how far the rules could be bent without breaking them. None of that mattered, though, because there was no way he was going to place his hands on your body without your permission.

He leaned over your shoulder and paused with his lips dangerously close to your ear. "God, you have no idea what you do to me," he murmured. "Sweetheart, is it okay for me to touch you? I swear I won't unless I have your permission." He saw you nod your head, but he shook his. "I need words, babygirl."

"Yes," you immediately whispered, desperate to feel his calloused hands caressing your skin. You felt him smile against your hair before he spun around a few times until he was in front of you.

Dean dropped to his knees, then tilted his head up to catch your gaze. His hands slid up your lower legs, massaging your calf muscle before resuming their track up to your knees. He pressed his lips to each kneecap, making eye contact after each kiss.

He noticed your hands were no longer in your lap, but clenched around the edge of the chair, which caused him to chuckle. "Relax, baby, it's okay for you to touch, too," he assured you. "I want you to." As additional incentive, he ripped open his T-shirt down the middle and discarded it on the stage, much to the crowd's howling approval.

At first, you were hesitant to place your hands on him, despite his assurances. Patrick had been your boyfriend for the past four years, during which you had remained unfailingly faithful. However, after what you'd seen earlier in the hallway, there was no way he could say the same. This thought lessened some of your guilt associated with touching another man in such an intimate manner. 

You placed your hands on his shoulders, then smoothed them up and down his muscular, tattooed biceps. Your fingertips danced back up to his shoulders and curled around his neck, teasing the small hairs at the base. He leaned his forehead against yours and let out a playful growl. "Playing with fire, there, darlin'," he murmured. "I like it like that," he grinned.

He stood up, letting your hands slip out from around his neck, but he caught them before they completely fell away. Holding your wrists, he placed your palms on his torso and leisurely moved them up and down the contours of his toned chest. He shuddered involuntarily when your fingers brushed against his peaked nipples. He thought was an accident, until he caught a spark of mischief in your eyes, which fueled the fire in his chest.

Whatever was going on with you and Dean onstage seemed to meet with the audience's approval, because it was raining money. "You ready to give them a real show, honey?" he asked.

"Yes, please," you pleaded with a nod. Dean pulled you up from the chair, then tilted you away from him, his large hand splayed across your back. Then he swung you around at the waist before bringing you back flush against his body. He guided your arms to loop at his neck, while his hands gripped your waist.

The two of you moved together in a circle, with the chair in the middle, then the music changed to a slow, sultry beat. Hips were moving in sync and you matched him step for step as the crowd grew quieter, in complete awe and unable to tear their eyes away from the actions unfolding on stage. When the music drew to an end, Dean gave you a wink and dipped you over his knee.

"Thank you for the dance, sweetheart," he smiled, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Remember, he doesn't deserve you, honey. He never will," he mumbled against your skin. You nodded in agreement and he gave you a wink before waving to the crowd and heading off stage.

Benny appeared shortly after Dean left and took your hand to guide you back to your table. "Dean wanted me to tell you he loved dancing with you and wanted to do it again, if you were up for it," he remarked. "The guys all come back out to mingle with the crowd, but I can tell he only has eyes for you, chérie," he confided.

"Tell him....tell him I'll be waiting for him," you replied in his ear. Benny's face lit up with a beaming smile as he gave you a quick bow and jogged back to the dressing room.

As soon as you sat down, Gracie grabbed your arm and shook you. "That was so HOTTT!" she squealed. "I never knew you could dance like that. Weren't they just amazing?" she exclaimed to Karlee, who was sitting on her right.

Karlee rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest with a petulant look on her face. "Yeah, wonder what Patrick is going to say about his girlfriend of four years bumpin' and grindin' with some guy on stage in front of everyone," she muttered.

By this point, you were done holding back. "Hmm, I don't know. I did see him earlier, though. He didn't really have much to say, though, only because he was shoving his tongue down your throat, right? You know, when you were 'going to the bathroom'," you retorted. "I think this makes Patrick and me about even, don't you?"

Gracie's attention whipped back around to you. "WHAT??" Her focus shifted over to Karlee, her eyes narrowed. "Is this true?" she demanded. When Karlee failed to answer, Gracie shook her head in disgust, then turned to talk to you. Karlee slammed her drink on the table and stormed away from the table.

"Now. Tell me everything."

***

True to Benny's word, the dancers from both sides of the house came out after their performances to connect with more of the patrons. In most clubs, the mix of alcohol and flirty dance moves is usually a recipe for disaster, but Jody and Donna ran a tight ship. The bouncers adhered to the bosses' strict instructions to remove anyone who disrespected their performers in any way. And if an altercation broke out among the patrons, the same rules were applied.

As promised, Dean came out with the others, but his sole purpose was to find you. Josh had already claimed his bride-to-be for a few tours around the dance floor, leaving you to nurse your drink. At least until Dean returned to continue what was started on stage. He knew it was risky to pursue a client, especially one already in a relationship. But there was something about you that kept pulling him in and wouldn't let go.

He led you out onto the dance floor, guiding your arms to rest on his shoulders and your hands to link behind his head. His hands settled on your hips and pulled you to connect with his body. "Makes it easier for me to lead you, sugar. If I move left, you have to move left. If I move right, so do you. Now if I want to spin you out," he nudged you on your right side and twirled you away with his beefy arms. He spun you back, only to bring your back flush with his chest. "See? That's how it's done."

"It certainly is," you grinned, reaching back to curl your arm around his neck and inching it downward. You kept your hold on him and soon you felt his warm breath ghosting over your skin as you closed your eyes in surrender to the sensation. He continued to sway the two of you in time with the music, his arm curling around your midsection. His strong left hand splayed across your tummy, which you covered with your own, interlacing your fingers.

"There they are!" a shrill voice shattered your contentment with those three words. "I told you she was hooking up with someone else, Patrick," Karlee shouted. Her display was enough to draw the attention of others in the crowd, most of whom had stopped dancing to witness the drama.

Patrick looked at you, held protectively in Dean's arms and not seeming too terribly apologetic about it. "So, you get a few drinks in you and then you let some other guy put his hands on you? How could you do this to me? We've been together for four years, and you're just willing to throw it all away for some-some-dancer??" he spat out.

Dean had started to move towards Patrick but stopped when you placed a hand on his arm. "It's okay," you murmured. "I've got this." You turned your attention to your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, who was holding hands with your soon-to-be ex-friend. It was time for your unhappiness to end.

"How about the late nights of falling asleep on the couch, waiting for you? The dinners for one, and the hushed phone calls that end as soon as I enter the room? Or what about how I caught you making out with Karlee in the hallway this very evening? Are you willing to throw away four years for-for-HER?"

All the color seemed to drain from Patrick's face. "Baby, it's not--it's not--"

"Don't ever call me 'Baby', Patrick. You lost that right tonight. And for God's sake, don't insult my intelligence by saying 'it's not what it looked like'. It all makes sense now. This has probably been going on since you two started working together, right, 'Karl'?" you directed at Karlee. Her face carried an uncomfortable expression, but she said nothing.

Patrick grabbed your hand and tried to pull you away from Dean. "Sweetheart, please," he whimpered.

You yanked your hand away from him. "No, absolutely not, we're done, Patrick. And I want your cheating ass moved out of the house this weekend. Maybe you can get 'Little Miss Homewrecker' to help you," you retorted.

One of the bouncers approached your position and stood with his arms folded across his chest. "All right, break it up. I think it's time for some of you to leave," he declared. You took only one step towards your table when you held up his hand. "Oh, no, not you, Miss. Mr. Cheating Douchebag and Little Miss Homewrecker are the ones who need to leave," he remarked with a subtle wink in your direction.

Karlee started sputtering about how it's not fair, that you and Dean were just as much involved in the drama as she and Patrick were. The bouncer didn't want to hear any of it and continued to herd them towards the door. At least for his part, Patrick only wanted to get out of the club before any more drama would follow. At the door, he turned and took one last look at you, shaking his head sadly at the realization that he'd lost you.

Dean pivoted so he was able to look you in the face, but your eyes were intently studying the floor. He hooked an index finger under your chin and tilted it up for his eyes to meet yours. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his knuckles gently grazing your cheek.

You drew a deep shuddering breath. "I am for now, though that may change in the morning. I do feel that a giant weight has been lifted off of my chest, with everything out in the open."

"I know the feeling. It's been awhile, but I was in a long-term relationship also. She cheated on me, with someone from her yoga class," he grimaced. "She also couldn't handle all of this," he mentioned, gesturing around the club. "Kept trying to push me to get a 'regular job'. Couldn't do it, not when this is where my heart is. Especially now," he grinned. "Wow, this is some heavy conversation for a first date, huh?"

"First date?" you giggled. "I suppose we could count this as a first date if you want."

"Does that mean you're open to a second date?" he asked. Before you could answer, he hastily interjected. "Listen, I know you are fresh out of a long-term relationship, and there may be some trust issues we'll have to work through. I promise, I'm willing to go as slow as you want, but....I don't want to let go of you just yet," he confessed.

He was making an excellent case for himself, and you didn't want to let go of him at the moment, either. "Well, I do need a 'plus one' for this wedding I'm in as a bridesmaid," you answered, your index finger tracing shapes on his chest. "It's a few weeks from now. Maybe we can start there and see how it goes?"

Dean's face broke out into a beaming smile. "Absolutely, babygirl. And I look devastatingly handsome in a tuxedo, if I may say so myself. Plus, I know how to dance."

"I can't wait to see you in a tux, especially if you look this good in a T-shirt," you replied.

"And you're gonna make the most beautiful bridesmaid. With me by your side, they'll all be jealous of us. Patrick will have to live with knowing what he's lost," he commented.

Your flashed him your sexiest smile, then asked, "'Patrick' who?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

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[mickmars-bbg]

❥ ❝ i'll be there for you . ❞

FTM!JON BON JOVI , AND FTM!DOM!READER .

SMUT INCLUDES ; BREEDING KINK , DEGRADATION , PRAISE , CHOKING . USE OF THE WORD CUNT TO DESCRIBE PARTS .

DONT LIKE ANY OF THESE THINGS ? DONT READ .

WRITTEN BY A TRANS AUTHOR .

it was an extremely hot afternoon . way too hot , humid too , for what you were doing at that moment . you were outside watching your boyfriend and his band play .

you watched intently , taking in all his features . long brown hair with some curls to it . brown eyes lit up like the sun as he played . you know he really enjoyed playing with the band .

you can tell the band is almost done with their jamming session , watching as the sweat drips off of them , but your focus stays on jon . his shirt was off and you could see his skin glistening with sweat from the outdoor heat . his top surgery scars were barely visible now and you were happy for him .

eventually the music comes to a stop . you snap out of your trance , seeing the members of the band begin to pack up their items .

at that moment , you notice your boyfriend jon walk over to you . you quickly wave with a smile .

❝ hello , my love . ❞

he says , smiling back to you .

❝ i saw you staring , yknow . ❞

you hesitantly nod , your face flushing a shade of light pink . you suddenly have the urge to touch him . to place your hand on his sweat gleamed chest and touch his top surgery scars . so you do , gently , incase you would hurt him . his smiles widens at the gesture .

❝ do you want something , my love ? ❞

he asks you , watching as you move your hand back down to your side . the tone of his voice makes you feel weak in the knees and your head spin . boy , did you love him .

you nod quickly , grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward his house where they were practicing outside of . he lets you lead him into the house and immediately after you two are inside and the door is shut , you push him against the wall .

you put your arms on either side of him , caging him in . since you were taller than him this was easy to do . he looks up at you , making eye contact . his eyes seem to be pleading at you .

you lean down a bit , pressing your lips against his chapped ones . almost instantly he returns the kiss . after about a minute of on and off kissing , you slide your tongue into his mouth . he whines at the sensation of it and you smile into the kiss .

you pull away , wanting to take things further . you once again grab his wrist , leading him toward his room . once inside you gently push him onto the black bedding .

you walk closer to where he was on the bed , climbing onto it and then sitting next him . next you pull your own top off , revealing your binder , but you left that on .

next , you slowly climb on top of him , sitting on legs . he looks up at you again , a goofy smile on his face . he was already out of it just from a few small touches .

you place your hand on his jeans and pull them down , revealing his boxers . you smile again at the sight of the wet spot on them .

❝ aww , youre already so wet for me . so pretty . ❞

you coo at him , smirking . he gives another whine at the praise , bucking his hips up into you . you begin to grind down into him , earning more whines .

❝ such slut , making such pretty noises for me . ❞

you tell him . he then grabs the hem of his boxers and attempts to pull them down , you help him . you can see hes soaking wet , just from your touch .

❝ please . ❞

he moans out , begging you to touch his aching cunt . you reach your hand out and begin making small circles on his clit . he moans again , tears pricking at his eyes from how good it felt . he hadnt been touched for weeks .

next , you move your fingers away from his clit and to the entrance of his cunt . you slowly push a finger in , earning a loud whine in response at the intrusion . you move your finger out , then push it back in , trying to make it go as deep as it can .

he lets out more needy moans as you finger him , adding another finger . you begin to make scissoring motions , stretching him out .

❝ fffuck , more ! ❞

his voice is high pitched and shaky .

❝ hm ? you want more in your pretty little cunt ? huh , good boy ? ❞

he nods , placing his arm over his eyes .

❝ nope . you have to look at me . ❞

you say , pulling his arm back down with your unoccupied hand . you add a third finger . next thing you know , he basically screams out your name .

❝ found it . ❞

you say , the smirk returning to your face . you can tell hes getting close . you keep pressing up against that special spot , and then hes spilling all over your fingers .

❝ good boy , cumming for me just from my fingers . ❞

[rocknbolan]

Rock Recap 7-9

Sad bass noises everywhere lately, but what do rock bass guitarists have to be sad about?

Lars (Metallica) is not pregnant. Repeat: Not pregnant. Can't say if he is or isn't in the soup but he is definitely not pregnant.

Rob (Metallica) and Rachel (Skid Row) are off on a weird pet shopping expedition. Spiders and snakes. Real ones.

Jani (Warrant)'s powers of perception are uncanny, predicting Sebastian (Skid Row)'s attempt at pranking his guitarist, Snake, with a chicken.

Old dudes getting envious of Steven (GnR)'s style. Be better off yelling at clouds than being jealous!

Snake (Skid Row) is in the hospital after an apparent car crash... in the mud. Everyone send him well wishes! (Is he crushing on Rob? Maybe?)

Eric and Fred (Cinderella) erupted in angry fireworks yesterday. After a flurry of slung insults, it ended with Fred walking away with hurt feelings and Eric packing his bags to fly to Pluto.

Dave (Megadeth) is terrified of birds that stare at him. Or being stared at in general. Do not taunt happy fun Dave.

Chat joiners:

Serj Tankian @serrjjjtannkiannn has joined the chat!

CC Deville @xnothing-but-a-good-timex has joined the chat!

Mick @sevenguitar has joined the chat!

Robert Trujillo @g3t-y0ur-f1ght-0n has joined the chat!

Fenriz @gylve-fenriz has joined the chat!

Daron Malakian @malakianblog has joined the chat!

Euronymous @fvneral-fog has joined the chat!

And now, the weather.

Ring sized hailstorms engulfing the rock world. who else will be getting a ring of engagement? Maaaaybe in the Bon Jovi camp next? Who can say. It's dry over Skid Row-land, however, as other than the recently engaged Sebastian, Scotti and Rachel and Snake don't appear to be nearing any aisles or altars.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 10

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :) TW for references to past abuse.

On AO3

(behold the chapter that took me most of august, and billion x billion thanks to @wheneverfeasible for listening to my endless wailings about it--eeeeep! You are the bestest!!!!)

…

Chapter 10: my bad

When Eddie opened the doors, a young woman around his age barged in. She wore a white apron with some dubious stains and brandished that rolling pin.

“Where is he? Oh my God.” 

She dropped the rolling pin on the couch, along with Steve’s pack, which she'd had slung over her shoulder. She shook him gently. 

“Steve! Steve?” Then, to Eddie, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?”

“I’ve no idea how he got that way. I swear.” Eddie paced around manically, wringing his hands. “He crashed in, totally wrecked, and handcuffed himself to the pillar.”

Nah. I wouldn’t believe me either.

Aaaand, I deserve to lose a couple of fangs to that rolling pin?

“Where’s the key, fuckwit?” she snarled.

 “I… uh… not a clue.”

He grabbed up Steve’s pack, tipped it out and began rifling through the contents. It struck Eddie that this was probably all Steve’s belongings. His watch. A clean shirt and underwear, his skin-tight ripped jeans. Two inhalers and some blister-pack tablets.  A crumpled envelope with a couple of dog-eared photographs slipping out.

Steve was in the top one, aged maybe fifteen or sixteen, smirking beneath a pair of shades. He’d gotten his arm around a blonde woman holding a cocktail. She had to be his mom. His beaming father barbecued hotdogs by a pool, which was holiday-brochure levels of azure blue.

Eddie ripped his attention away. “I can’t see any keys.”

“Yeah. They’re in his pocket.” The newcomer fiddled to undo the handcuffs. “Didn’t you think to look? Jesus, you two dinguses were born for each other. I’m Robin, by the way.” Steve remained hugged around the pillar. “Some help here, shit-for-brains?” 

Together, Robin and Eddie got one each of his arms over their shoulders and hauled him to his feet. They dragged him between them toward the bed. 

He wasn’t exactly unconscious. He definitely wasn’t in the room either. His head drooped forward, and his flickering lashes cast shadows down his streaming makeup. Eddie’s heart panged, while his stomach twisted in knots.

Eddie was crazy about Steve. 

Seriously, crazy.

And he still knew literally nothing about him. 

Possibly my bad.

They guided Steve onto the bed. Robin propped extra pillows under him, then fetched a bottle of Evian from the minibar. Eddie hovered at her shoulder, chewed his fingernails, and wondered if he should call a doctor something.

“Steve?” She jostled him again. “Steve! Please say something. Please? You’re freaking me out now.”

His half-lidded eyes widened. “Robin? Eddie? Wha–”

“Steve! You scared the shit outta me!”

Steve looked… lost and totally bewildered. He took a sip of the water she menaced him with, vaguely dabbing the trickle on his chin.

“What happened?” asked Robin. “You know—ditching breakfast? Your little cognac party for one? Whatever unspeakable yuck I interrupted with Jon Bon Jovi here?”

Cognac party? That explained the booze on Steve’s breath. Eddie let the Bon Jovi comparison slip. Hadn’t she noticed Jon cut his hair for the ‘Keep the Faith’ album? 

Only true metalheads left at the big hair party, ma’am.

Robin came at Steve with a napkin to mop his face. 

“If you don’t quit fussing,” he hissed, “I’m gonna slap you silly.”

“Okay. Being a bitch. Back on form. When did you last eat properly?”

He threw his arm across his face. “Jesus, Robin, I don’t know."

“I might’ve got some pringles around here somewhere.” Eddie, desperate to be useful, scanned his half-packed mess. “Definitely a jelly donut.”

“Oh, real nutritious.” Robin jumped up and stomped toward the door, muttering to Eddie, “We need to talk.”

In the main lounge area, Eddie took one look at the fake marble pillar, shuddered, and snapped from his daze: “Look, I get it. You care about Steve. You and me both, sister. I would never—”

“You are NOT forgiven, numb-nuts.” She stabbed a finger at him. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt ONLY because he didn’t flip out when he saw you, so listen up. He’s sick. He’s not eaten today. I’m gonna get him a bowl of oatmeal and banana. Can I trust you with him, or will I come back to find him tangling himself in a sex swing?”

Ouch.

Once she’d gone, Eddie hurried back to the bed. Steve emerged from beneath his arm. His face was waxy, his vest and hair sweat-soaked and sticking to him.

He still looked lost. Haunted, even. And Eddie felt nearly as lost, stopping in his tracks a foot from the bed.

“Thank Christ she’s gone,” said Steve, then, “Eddie, you didn’t stare this much when I’d gotten your jizz all over my face.”

Those knots in Eddie’s guts wound tighter. “I’m really fucking sorry about last night. I’m sorry about smoking and never reading the runes, and…  about  a ton of shit, honestly.”

“Don’t be,” sighed Steve. “I’m sorrier. And about today. Christ, I’ve made a total fool of myself.”

Eddie shook his head, dared shuffle a little closer. “You’re fine, honey.”

“Yeah, we both know that’s a pile of steaming horseshit. I… I…” 

Steve’s face crumpled beneath his hand. Eddie’s right mind finally screamed, What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve literally shared this bed with him for weeks.

He bounced onto the huge mattress, muttered, “C’mere, you.” He felt stupidly grateful when Steve rolled into his opening arms. Eddie hugged him close, planted soft kisses on his hair. “I gotcha. It’s okay.” 

“I d-don’t remember.” Steve curled into Eddie’s side and his knee crept up into Eddie’s lap. “Oh God, Oh God. I’m losing my mind. I can’t even figure how I got here.”

Eddie found himself grinding his teeth. He didn’t know exactly how Steve got from that preppy, peppy kid in the poolside photograph to today—blundering into this penthouse then chaining himself to that pillar, locked in some twisted memory. 

No. Eddie didn’t know exactly. But he was starting to get the picture.

If I ever find the sick son-of-a-bitch who did THAT to you…

Right now, though, it was all Eddie could do to silence his own demons and simply hold Steve. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Stevie.” He planted a kiss on Steve’s temple. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

…

Steve was desperately trying to piece together what the hell just happened. 

Being here, with Eddie holding him like this, helped. Eddie’s heartbeat thrumming through him, and knowing he’d apologized to Eddie, helped too. He still felt beyond wretched. It proved an effort to slide his hand to Eddie’s shoulder, grip that baggy t-shirt, and cling.

After his encounter with Kline, he’d gone to empty ashtrays. Usual routine. Then he’d needed some water, because he’d inhaled a ton of ash, so he’d used the tap at one of the hotel bars.

Oh yeah, the brandy.

The cognac.

The dead posh sort that his dad used to drink. Steve had slugged it back, puked again, and then his memories got even hazier. He was pretty sure, however, that he’d done stuff that meant he was totally out of a job, and… No, no, no, no, no.

He’d pushed those sessions with Godchester into the darkest corners of his mind. As he’d stumbled around the hotel today, they’d kept flashing back. The feelings of helplessness, breathlessness, the swish of the cane, begging for more so it might be over sooner, and then… and then…

“Sssssh, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

Eddie rocked him back and forth. Steve breathed deeply of Eddie, who, to be fair, didn’t reek of tobacco as bad as usual. He focussed on the pressure of Eddie’s lean body against his, on Eddie’s arms around him. That dark veil slammed down once more.

“I don’t remember,” he repeated, in a voice so small that he was surprised Eddie heard, let alone replied.

“You know what, Stevie?” Eddie exhaled, long and unsteadily, and somehow, reassuringly. “I have nooooo memory of the day I checked into his hotel. That shit went down with my flop record. I woke up here next morning, totally stuck.”

Steve chuckled, though it wasn’t even ballpark funny. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I mean, I smoked a ton of weed. Not saying it’s identical to what’s happened to you, but… I dunno. I figured knowing that might help?”

Steve peeped up, his chin digging into Eddie’s breast. Eddie still looked sheepish as fuck. He smoothed Steve’s hair. Steve dipped his gaze again.

“Okay. This morning, I saw somebody from my past. From the worst time in my life, soon after my parents died. It made me remember stuff I usually forget, and I guess I got lost in that, and… and…”

Nope. No way could he say any of that out loud. It was all too near and too raw, and yet…

He twisted his fingers in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. Maybe, just maybe, he could keep clinging like this long enough to tough this out, laugh it off. Or maybe he could do something far more radical. Maybe he could suck up being such a loser and ask Eddie for help.

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie was saying. “I’m so very fucking sorry.”

Steve squeezed his eyes tight, squeezed Eddie even tighter, and… Jesus, he was beyond done with today. Snuggling like this was weird and new, also totally natural and totally right. God, he loved being with Eddie… like this… Even his juddering pulse had settled, fallen into pace with Eddie’s beat. With his head tucked between Eddie’s chin and shoulder, Steve began to slip.

“Uh, Stevie?” Eddie brushed his knuckles down Steve’s cheek, wrenching him awake again. “Hate to do this to ya. I, um, have to clear out of here in, uuuuh… about twenty-two minutes.”

Steve gawked up at him. The words sunk in. Then their meaning. He lifted his head and scanned the slightly spinning room. It was half packed, in a very chaotically Eddie fashion, crap strewn everywhere.

Oh yeah. He knew about this. Another horror he’d pushed away. He rolled off Eddie onto his elbows, groaning towards the chandelier. “Seriously?”

“Steve, listen. Right now, I only care about you and—"

“Be honest with me. Were you really gonna slope off without a word?”

“No way!” Eddie hoisted himself from the pillows and raised his palms in surrender. “I’m going because I have no choice. I’m broke, okay? I’ve spent every dime I ever earned and then some. I gotta suck up my terror of the big, bad world and skedaddle pronto. Or another night in this place is gonna cost a winter’s worth of donkey feed.”

“Donkeys?” Steve blinked at him.

Eddie swept hair from his guilt-stricken eyes. “Long story.” 

He’s broke.

You’ve probably been fired. He was your last hope of keeping you in meds, keeping a roof over your head. 

You’re dumbass levels of crazy about him.

AND HE’S BROKE. AND HE’S LEAVING.

Steve threw himself at Eddie and buried his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Oh shit,” squeaked Eddie. “Please, I wanna keep seeing you! We’ll figure things out. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying, dipshit,” Steve got the words out between hiccuping giggles. “I’m laughing so damn hard. At you. At us. Jesus!” 

And he was. Sobbing his mirth into Eddie’s neck, till Eddie enfolded him once more and also totally cracked up.

“Okay, you win again, champ.” Eddie flopped his face to Steve’s shoulder, mirroring how Steve smothered himself in Eddie’s. “It’s insane and it’s tragic and it’s g-goddamn hilarious. We’re gonna get through, right?”

Part 11 on AO3 Part 11 on tumblr

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[hibischush]

What kind of music, or song that instantly comes in your mind each FoM bachelors and bachelorettes would listen to?

God this is going to reveal so much about me y'all better not judge my odd musical escapades 😤🌺

Seriously though, I love character playlists so if any of y'all make one please share!

Bachelors;

Balor

Okay...I dunno why but

Fall Out Boy

Balor just seems like the type of guy to like the content sung in their songs and I think he definitely enjoys pop-punk

Like I immediately thought of "Sugar, We're Goin Down" from Fall Out Boy

Literally any other emo-rock/punk band too

Think MCR

March

Anything from The Offspring tbh

I was listening to "Want You Bad" and I was like. Yep that's him

Same goes for "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid"

For music that he listens to, I also think he would be a rock enjoyer

NOT BECAUSE HE'S A BLACKSMITH. OK?

But more specifically older rock (think Bon Jovi, Journey, The Rolling Stones)

Hayden

Yes I know he looks like he listens to country

But its more folk-country than the pop-country that's super popular these days

I thought of "Southern Nights" by Glen Campbell

Also pretty much anything from Johnny Cash

Specifically "Ring of Fire"

Ryis

I think he would like some country artists similar to Hayden, but I thought of Jimi Hendrix honestly

Like Hendrix's "Purple Haze"

Soft rock basically

"Drive," "Just What I Needed," and "You Might Think" all by The Cars

Eiland

This man definitely listens to classical/orchestral music I mean look at him

I can't really point out any artists for that

But like... if video games/movies existed in Mistria

He'd listen to video game OSTs too

Like you'd be catching him listening to Indiana Jones' OST while digging up artifacts 😭

Bachelorettes;

Celine

I think Celine would listen to pop or pop-punk for sure

Like she's listening to Billie Eilish idc

Esp Billie's HIT ME HARD AND SOFT album

I think she'd listen to Kali Uchi too (her "Moonlight" song came to mind)

But I think she'd also like R&B too (Specifically Ravyn Lenae)

Juniper

She'd get down with rap and R&B man

"Paint the Town Red" and "Agora Hills" by Doja Cat

"Dang!" by Mac Miller ft. Anderson .Paak

She likes the soft beat packed with words or hype music I suppose

makes her feel powerful

Reina

Reina is another R&B enjoyer-- but specifically a huge SZA fan

I thought of "Snooze" by SZA

But Reina seems like the type to enjoy any type of music honestly

Her family really encourages music as a past time with her mom singer and her father playing stringed instruments

Valen

Only piano music

Literally she's the type to dislike music that hypes her up/makes her feel strong emotions like anger

She likes music that calms her and piano music does just that

Adeline

Adeline is similar to her brother in that she enjoys classical music

She enjoys ball room dancing, and often "classic" or orchestral or waltz music plays

But I also see her enjoying Brazilian Bossa Nova music as well

"Brazil" (Aka Aquarela do Brasil) by Antonio Carlos Jor

"So Danco Samba" by Stan Getz & Luiz Bonfa

I think she likes bossa nova because the rhythm is so different from more western music

It challenges to adapt to the beat while dancing and she likes it

Bonus; Caldarus

For Caldarus, it has been a long time since they have heard music

When they hear it from your nearby farmhouse, they find it very pleasing

If they ever get outta statue form then I think they are very eager to seek out all types of music

Whelp hopefully none of these are musical hot takes.🥲 Whenever I mention certain artists just know that I primarily mean the vibes/style of the artists, cause you wouldn't find Doja Cat in Mistria lmao

[annahxredaxted]

Dad!Milo headcannons

Some of these are gender neutral but it will have they/them pronouns.

•••

When he first found out he was super excited he cried

He’s super careful around sweetheart and pampers them like crazy.

“Do your feet hurt?” Is a question he asks a lot.

He will rub their belly and sing to the baby in Italian

Marie was the first one to know.

Milo will literally make them whatever they want whenever they want.

The whole pack was supportive and excited for them obviously.

When the time for the baby to come arrived sweetheart was a nervous wreck

They had a panic attack on the hospital bed

Milo calmed them down and when they got their epidural they calmed down pretty much all the way.

Milo was the first to hold it.

His heart melted and he just held the baby for a good 7 minutes before passing it off.

He cut the umbilical cord- even if he thought it was gross.

Sweetheart sends him pictures of it during work.

They taught the baby how to say “boo” and milo thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

Sam babysits for date night (my hc is that sam and sweet are siblings)

Sweetheart starts them early and plays everything important (Queen, radiohead,Möntly Crue,Foo fighters,bon jovi, ect)

Milo tickles them constantly

He likes to buy them things he didn’t have as a kid.

Maire adores the shit out of the baby and holds it during pack meetings sometimes

Once Asher cursed in front of it and sweetheart smacked him upside the head.

When the kids a toddler sweetheart spends hours on YouTube or with Marie to learn how to handle their thick hair, because apparently milo had the same.

They eventually did and milo was super proud

Milo and the kid are literally copy paste.

The baby has the best style in the whole pack.

[flufficreature]

Hello guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! Would anyone like to be friends, I am a lonely soul looking to make a bigger friend group! I'm 21 by the way, so please no kids or teens, thank you

Shit I like: show wise

Scooby-Doo

Drak Pack

Supernatural

Hey Arnold

X-Men

Percy Jackson

Moomins

Avatar the last Air Bender

Criminal Minds

Tmnt

Ramshackle

Inazuma eleven

Shit I like: Book wise

Warrior Cats (been a while since I read them)

Percy Jackson

Scream Street

Harry Potter

Nancy Drew

Shit I like: music wise

All Time Low

Rob Zombie

Five Finger Death Punch

Yungblood

Kiss

Guns N' Roses

Green Day

Billy Joel

Billy Idol

Avril Lavigne

3oh3!

Marina

Panic at the Disco

Hollywood Undead

Led Zeppelin

Beastie Boys

Arctic Monkey's

AC/DC

Metallica

Girl in Red

Charlotte Sands

Alec Benjamin

Linkin Park

Simple Plan

Eagles

Bon Jovi

Boston

Def Leppard

(various types of music)

Other Shit:

Sally Face

Drawing

Writing

Watch Cartoons

I have a three part book series I'm working on: Death's, A Devil's Curse, and The Wonders of the Keepers

I'm also new to comic book collecting.

[vancruejovi]

I remember when this pack came out and the minute I saw this outfit I was like…that’s the Jon Bon Jovi 1994 Versace outfit