#definitely doesn’t look like it’s for money

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

part one

“so how was your first day?” robin asks steve as he slides onto the barstool next to her and chrissy.

“it actually wasn’t that bad,” steve shrugs before taking a long pull from the freshly opened bottle the bartender slides his way.

“it wasn’t that bad?” chrissy asks, incredulous. “so he didn’t make you go to the erewhon all the way across town? the one he goes to because selena gomez was seen there once?”

“that’s why he made me go there?”

“yeah, he really likes that one movie she’s in.”

steve thinks for a moment. “the dead don’t die?”

“no, the one with the dancing,” chrissy snorts.

steve makes a face and then shrugs again. “i made him his breakfast, i drove him around, i organized his tshirt closet… pretty standard stuff for an assistant.”

“you organized his tshirt closet? what the fuck does that even mean?” robin asks, laughing.

“exactly what it sounds like,” steve grins at her. “anyway, really, it wasn’t that bad. sure, he’s insufferable but not anything i couldn’t handle. don’t worry about it.”

“well, thanks for doing this,” chrissy says. “vickie handled it for a while, but i guess once you’ve been fired twelve times in the course of six months, you have to draw a boundary with the thirteenth.”

“it’s really not a big deal, it’s not like i’m doing it for free,” steve responds. “the money is more than worth it.”

“still, i know how he can be. but he’s really not so bad. once he’s… comfortable.” chrissy frowns.

“whatever,” steve shrugs for a third time. “i’m just here for the cash.” he winks and gives her a reassuring smile.

~*~

the next morning, steve pulls up to eddie’s huge beverly hills mansion bright and early, just as he had yesterday. he punches in the gate code, waves to the security guy on duty, and makes his way inside to the kitchen.

eddie storms in while steve is halfway through cooking another omelette, this time with tomatoes and onions and freshly grated cheddar cheese.

“i don’t care, wheeler, i’m not making a fucking appearance and i’m definitely not doing it with him,” eddie snarls into the phone pressed to his face. he hasn’t seemed to notice that steve’s in his house again.

eddie waits for whoever it is on the phone to speak before he says, “well maybe i don’t want to fix it. maybe this is it,” and then hangs up the phone. he lets out a frustrated little scream before he turns to leave the kitchen, finally noticing steve by the stove. “you’re back,” he says, voice monotone.

“i’m back,” steve smiles, sliding the plate full of food across the large island toward him. eddie looks down at it like he’s surprised. “eat,” steve tells him.

“another sweater vest?” eddie sneers instead of picking up his fork.

“i like them,” steve shrugs, still smiling.

eddie rolls his eyes. “whatever,” he mutters and then picks up the plate and retreats from the kitchen.

~*~

eddie is deeply annoyed by how good steve’s omelettes are. he practically licks the plate clean when he’s finished, which only serves to make his bad mood worse.

“can i take your plate?” steve asks from the doorway of the living room.

“jesus christ, man, wear a fucking bell,” eddie grumbles before holding out the plate, forcing steve to walk across the room to the couch and take it from him.

“i’ll remember to announce myself from now on,” steve replies. “chrissy just called; you have another meeting with the pr team this afternoon. we’ll leave here in about an hour.”

eddie doesn’t respond and steve goes quietly back to the kitchen.

~*~

eddie tries to confuse steve with the directions to nancy’s office again, mostly just to annoy him since the car has a built in gps. steve ignores eddie, leaving him to play on his phone in the back seat. the windows are tinted dark, just how eddie likes it & it lulls him into a false sense of security to where he’s almost relaxed by the time they get to nancy’s office.

the meeting is a fucking drag. it’s just a rehashing of the morning’s phone call and eddie had already made himself perfectly clear. he’s not willing to fix anything. nancy and chrissy try to double-team him, begging him to think about the tour & the album roll-out & the rest of the band. the entertainment blogs are running wild with the rumors circulating about the other night and now they’re digging up shit that he wishes would stay buried.

“absolutely fucking not,” eddie spits out. “i refuse to be fucking cordial with that moron.”

“fine,” nancy says finally. “i guess we’re done here then.” she gets up from the head of the conference room table and leaves through the big glass doors and the rest of her team takes that as their cue to leave, too.

chrissy levels him with a look, waiting until the last intern has left the room before speaking.

“eddie, i know you’re pissed right now. trust me, i would be too,” she says, using that tone eddie always hates—the one that makes it sound like she’s trying to placate a rabid dog. “but the label has invested a lot of money into you and they need you to put in some work right now. take a minute, take a breath, and then we’ll talk again. but we need to respond; we can figure out what that looks like. i’ll talk to nance… maybe we don’t need a joint appearance. maybe you can just make a statement.”

eddie knows there are a ton of people relying on this tour & this upcoming album. he knows the band doesn’t deserve the hit from this. but what is there to even say? he’s just so fucking angry about it.

“fine. i’ll make an appearance. but i won’t, under any circumstances, be seen with him,” eddie tells her firmly. he slides his sunglasses back onto his face before pushing himself out of his chair and making his way over to the door. “just tell me when and where. and make sure nancy doesn’t make me sound like a fucking idiot.”

“great,” chrissy smiles so bright she looks like a teenager again. “i’ll talk to nancy. we’ll figure it out.”

any reassurance eddie feels is washed away by a renewed sense of annoyance when he sees steve waiting for him in the lobby, still wearing his pastel yellow sweater vest, drinking a purple smoothie from a straw and scrolling on his phone. he’s laughing at something on the screen and the sunlight comes through the huge front windows just right, making him glow golden, and eddie just feels something inside him twist unpleasantly.

steve looks up then to see eddie coming, but eddie breezes past him to the sidewalk. steve jumps up to follow, handing the valet their ticket. when the car finally pulls up, eddie says, “no liquids in the car,” before sliding into the back seat.

he sees steve shrug before smiling at the valet and handing him his half empty smoothie to dispose of and a tip.

the car ride home is silent. eddie practically leaps from the car before it’s even come to a stop when they pull into the driveway. there are packages on the table in the foyer, likely brought in by the security guy at the gate. “grab those,” eddie tells steve with a wave of his hand.

steve follows eddie into the kitchen, arms laden with paper bags and boxes. most of it, eddie knows, is free product and merch, stuff he never uses and mostly stuff he doesn’t even want. steve places the packages on the counter and watches as eddie sifts through them, clearly looking for something.

“do you want lunch?” steve asks. eddie ignores him, finally finding the package he’d ordered earlier today. he flings it across the kitchen island toward steve on the other side.

steve catches the package in his hands and arches an eyebrow.

“open it,” eddie tells him, nodding at paper wrapping. he opens the fridge to pull out a bottle of water and takes a long sip as he watches steve’s fingers tear at the brown paper.

once the package is open, steve huffs out a laugh, barely a breath, before holding up a bright pink cat collar with a tiny bell attached. he shakes it in the air, making the bell tinkle. the collar clearly will not fit him.

“fuck you, man,” steve says, still smiling.

“fuck you, too,” eddie says.

and then he leaves the kitchen.

[angelfic]

Heyy if u write for him could I get a Tim and reader just going out for a date night

tim drake x reader

warnings — fluff, kinda suggestive at the end, nothing elseee a/n; i absolutely write for tim and i rlly wanna write more for him in the future. he’s slowly getting up there with my favourite batboys im so serious abt that. why’s he abt to dethrone dick

“Five minutes.”

“Two,” you argue, arms crossed as you face your boyfriend in the fiction section of the bookstore. “We each have two minutes to pick out a book for each other and it has to be something we haven’t read yet.”

Tim frowns at you. “Why not five minutes?”

“I don’t trust you,” you scoff, brushing past him in search of the mystery section. “It has to be spontaneous, so don’t think too hard. Shouldn't be too difficult for you.”

Tim gapes at you and you dodge his grabby hands with a cheeky grin, stepping away hastily. He narrows his eyes, pretending to be deep in thought. “Do normal couples insult each other on dates?”

You shrug, pulling out your phone. “Not sure. All I know is that we absolutely do,” you say, setting a timer for two minutes and waving it in his face. Tim smirks, rolling his sleeves up like he’s about to engage in strenuous physical activity. “Ready? Set… go!”

The two of you dart through the aisles like you’re tracking one of Gotham’s most wanted instead of paperbacks. A few customers give you funny looks when you scour through the shelves with such intensity, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Especially when you spot Tim flipping through titles in the fiction section at an alarming speed.

“Are you skimming through whole pages right now?” you accuse him with a gasp.

He barely looks up. “Maybe.”

“Wh- That’s cheating!”

Tim scrunches up his nose like he doesn’t understand you. “I’m optimising my search process.”

You groan, dropping your face into your free hand. “I’m dating a psycho nerd. Wait, no, I’m dating a Sherlock Holmes wannabe.”

He finally looks up, corners of his lips lifting up into a mischievous grin. You lift up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Not the sexy version.”

“Says you,” he shoots back, slotting the books back into the shelves, all but one, as the timer goes off.

You whip out your phone to stop the offending alarm noise and keep your chosen book tucked behind your back as you begin walking backwards. “Times up, pretty boy,” you taunt him, a sweet smile gracing your face when you see the faint blush creeping up his neck at the nickname. “Meet you outside with the books?”

“Hm, get ready to lose.”

“This wasn’t a competition,” you laugh, unsurprised at his combative nature, heading to the counter to get checked out. You quickly bag up your book and head outside to wait for Tim, patiently leaning against the wall outside the store.

A couple of minutes later, he steps out with his own bag and the look on his face has you narrowing your eyes. “What’s in the bag, Timothy?”

“Books,” he replies innocently. You reach past him to get to the bag and yank at it. It’s heavy.

“We said one,” you gasp, grabbing the bag and pulling out book by book. “How the hell did you sneak these up there? I didn’t even see the rest of these.”

He raises his eyebrows at you as if to ask, ‘do you know who you’re talking to right now?’

Your heart flutters and you look up at him, speechless. You don’t usually find money an attractive quality, but knowing he definitely didn’t think twice before spending his on the multiple hardcover copies and gilded edges has you feeling all tingly.

The more you look at him, the more sheepish he becomes, rubbing the back of his neck and looking almost… shy. “I couldn’t pick just one.”

“Alright, let’s go home,” you sigh, patting his chest. “I’m cutting this date short.”

“Are- are you mad at me?”

“Nope.” You place your hands on his shoulders and lean in to press a short, but very appreciative kiss to his lips. When you pull away, he’s even more noticeably flustered. “I’m not mad. I’m the other thing. Home?”

Tim sobers up quick, grasping your hand and practically dragging you down the street. “Home.”

a/n cont.; reader to tim:

[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

[fairyminnie444]

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥.

Reality always bends to your will when you take absolute command over your perception and inner state. Everything already exists, and what you experience is merely a reflection of what you have accepted as truth.

Inspired by Nero Knowledge’s blog, I created a small training to master reality, easily and practical. No more excuses, no more postponements, no more "buts" and "ifs". Now is the time to act as the god of your own reality, let's go:

⊹₊ ⋆ 1. Creating Absolute Inner Reality ⊹₊ ⋆

You must decide that your desired reality is the only truth that exists. No matter what is happening outside, it is not real to you. What is real is only what you have already decided is.

❤︎ Instead of “fighting” the current reality, do not give attention for what doesn’t align.

❤︎ If something seems “contrary,” simply ignore it. (If you can't ignore it, think and know definitively "what's happening here doesn't change the fact that I already have what I want." It's done.)

❤︎ Practice selective blindness: focus only on what reinforces your success.

⊹₊ ⋆ 2. Reality Distortion - Total Control of the Environment ⊹₊ ⋆

❤︎ Train your perception to see only evidence of your desired reality.

❤︎ Manipulate 3D through the absolute certainty that everything is molding itself to you.

❤︎ The focus is on not getting emotionally involved with passing circumstances.

⊹₊ ⋆ 3. Using “I AM” Fluently ⊹₊ ⋆

❤︎ Think of I AM as an absolute truth, not as something you need to affirm all the time.

❤︎ If a thought of scarcity arises, simply correct it without drama:

❤︎ Examples:

“What if no money comes?” → “Money always comes anyway.”

“sp: what if he doesn't call me?” → “he has no choice but to call me.”

“appearance: what if I look in the mirror and don't see this?” → “I am already this the moment I imagine myself like this and decide.”

❤︎ Your I AM needs to be the automatic response to any doubt.

❤︎ Understanding that I AM is the activation of instant reality.

❤︎ Using I AM with conviction to consolidate your identity and generate visible results.

❤︎ Applying the “Reality Leap”: acting and feeling as if you were already in the desired position.

⊹₊ ⋆ 4. Shielding Yourself Against the Fear of Failure ⊹₊ ⋆

❤︎ When your identity is solid, there is no wrong decision.

❤︎ Even if a path seems “uncertain,” it always leads to your success.

❤︎ Everything you do accelerates your ascent because you are already at the top.

❤︎ Enter a state of mind where there is no possibility of failure. Cause there isn’t.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ ⋅ ˚✮ Some important observations:

Your perception shapes your reality. If you see lack, it is lack. If you see your desire already fulfilled, it is already done.

The training is to strengthen you, not to imprison you. You do not need to fight against your emotions or bad feelings if you have them. Feel them, but do not identify with them. They do not define you or your reality.

The secret is to integrate the “I AM” automatically.

Example of Integration:

❤︎ Are you in the shower? “I AM a (insert your desire here)”

❤︎ Are you eating? “My success is natural.”

❤︎ Going to sleep? “My reality is already done.”

You do not need to feel a great emotional impact with each repetition. The goal is to make this normal.

If any negative thought arises now or during the day, stop immediately and replace it with a powerful “I AM.”

Practical example:

❌ “But what if it takes a while?” → “I AM living proof that everything happens in my time, and my time is NOW.”

❌ “What if I don’t have enough money today?” → “I AM a wealth magnet and I get paid in all forms, from all directions.”

❌ “What if I have to work harder than I want?” → “I AM so valuable that everything comes to me effortlessly.”

Reality does not respond to what you want, but to what you ARE. Be now, without waiting for external proof.

3D reality is just a mirror of what you have already assumed internally. You don’t need to fix the mirror, you need to change what it reflects.

Don’t seek proof, be the proof.

You don’t wait, you DECIDE.

When you hold this stance, reality has no choice but to bend to your will.

[nionom-art]

Gonna guess that Chloé’s My Daddy Will Hear About This powers are a lot more bluff in MC than canon. Like he acts more like a politician that has a successful career in a capitol city than cartoon politician infinite influence. If a teacher actually calls her bluff and calls him he acts more like someone who is both not a spineless mook and actually cares about his daughter’s wellbeing. Or at least looking as a reasonable responsible parent to the outside looking in

I’m planning on having Andre be just as spineless and corrupt as cannon (as best I can). The thing is though, realistically Andre can’t over use his position as mayor against the school. If he did, and the school fought back, there’s a high possibility that the fight could be taken to court- and that he would lose the case against the school. That would look bad for his career, and possibly even get him voted out of office, so he needs to pick his battles more carefully than that.

I noticed that in cannon, the only person at the school that actually bends to Chloe and Andre’s will 100% of the time is the principal, Mr Damocles. (This would especially make sense if Andre was monetarily supporting the school in some way- Mr Damocles would want to suck up to him, but the teachers likely wouldn’t even care, seeing as the money isn’t even going towards their salaries anyway).

We’ve seen in cannon Chloe complaining when Mrs. Mendeleiev puts Chloe and Sabrina in a group with Marinette, but Mrs. Mendeleiev just tells Chloe to deal with it- and Chloe does. She doesn’t even threaten to call her daddy- probably because she knows it won’t work. Andre would have very little authority to force Mrs Mendeleiev to bend to Chloe’s will on this, and it wouldn’t be worth pursuing in the first place for him. Instead, when they got home, Andre would just promise to buy Chloe something nice to “make up for it”.

So in my au, Chloe definitely does tell her daddy about the seating arrangement, but this is probably one of those situations where Andre would rather just buy Chloe something expensive instead of trying to argue with the school and Mrs. Bustier, who would have a very good counter argument for him. It’s just not worth it for him.

[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says….

Jamil + hurt to comfort + non sexual intimacy (Post-graduation, ~1000 words)

Everyone and their mother knows how hard Jamil works. (Literally, there’s a colony of older women that pass him trinkets on the way to work now) It’s practically a walk of fame whenever you take him out.. Your neighborhood is poorer than most, and he’s got the best job in the building by far! Your man, a big shot <3

You’re lucky that even with all the attention, nobody sees the holes. That all the friends from college stopped visiting after the first month of avoiding clubbing like the plague- and it’s not that he’s abusive! Far from it! You only worry for his reputation, now that it really matters..

It feels like all you do these days is worry. How the washing machine is making those noises again (the sigh Jamil makes when you bring it up), or how the neighborhood cat turns her nose up at you even though you’ve spent hours at the porch for her (he says it’s a waste of time and money, but he’d never liked cats very much anyhow).

He goes on and on about how you should be resting and enjoying the “free time” you have more than you talk about anything meaningful anymore- You even miss small talk, and small talk sucks!

But, tonight, you’ll give him mercy. Today just feels special, and instead of mourning your past, sparks will fly!

When Jamil gets home you’re in a pressed, tight ensemble. Dinner is made fresh. The apartment is spotless (save for some petals)! It’s tasteful, romantic ;) He doesn’t make a single comment. In a frantic scramble to save dinner, you make the first contact in what feels like months

“So, how’s dinner? I tried out that seasoning pack you got!”

“I see.. You definitely tried.” Your own husband feels alien now- And it’s no wonder. He’s doing all these big, important things at work, and what do you do? What can you provide other than a decent meal and complaints?

Nothing.

Jamil heads to bed before you do, as he’s done for years, expecting you to amble in after a spot of trash tv. He isn’t awake long enough to cuddle, or do much of anything for your pleasure nowadays,,

The pleather couch is your only comfort now- and between fits of insomnia and cold sweats your covers are tossed aside in favour of wrestling up any half-decent sleep. Tomorrow will be better. There’s always tomorrow.

.

“Tomorrow”, as a concept, is terrible. A horrible thing tied so enthusiastically to hope should be illegal, but, boiling baths are pretty famous for making things more bearable, and you’re willing to try! There’s still rose petals in the hall, you kick limply at the velvety blobs in your peripheral, even if they don’t deserve the spite. If one thing’s for sure, you’ll probably never do something like this again.

The bath is already drawn when you arrive, aromatic steam tickles at your body hair as you’re lowered into the tub like one of those hot spring monkeys. You miss going to the zoo. God, you miss dates! It just feels like takeout and movies grew legs and walked away after your wedding- You were young, then, so full of potential,,

“You could’ve asked to join me.”

Suddenly, your eyes dilate like a kitten looking at a plastic mouse, and that faint, aware part of you floats away in the steam- Not before reminding you that it’s the weekend :) ! You can only watch as a drop of condensation make it’s way down his torso and into the towel laying loosely across his hips..

You waste no time- water splashes over the edge when you rush beneath the bubble cover. Sure, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count, but this is private!! You consider tossing the shampoo bottle, but decide against it. Even that’d be too good for him.. He’d run the bath with your salts and soaps, this belongs to you on principle!

“It’s my bath, I don’t need to ask!”

“Is that so? Then, I don’t need to either.”

You sigh before helping him in limply with one hand, and flicking water towards his face with the other- His hair is braided and tied back, but the front pieces where you helped him cut bangs a few years ago skim across the foamy surface. You resist fixing his exhausted hunch to spare your his pride.

You grab for his ankle with the tepid washcloth, and rub circles into his skin. He sinks back into the water to scooch into your touch and more of his hair gets wet, you make a note to wash it later.

“Is anything going on? Are the neighbours treating you well?”

Hm. Now you know his angle- Even after all these years, Jamil’s never been the type to initiate physical touch, but he knows you like it. The snake’s trying to butter you up!

“I’ve been treated well enough. Gonna’ start looking for a job soon, I think it’d be good to get out more. You understand, don’t you? With all the people you see?”

The wash cloth’s much softer in the warm water, and you scrub harder- only stopping when you notice the area going a little red. No matter how mad you are, he doesn’t deserve dry skin,, Jamil tosses around sighs and mumbled comments. You don’t need to work, he says, and you respond in kind. but I want to. The muscles in his thigh flex a little in response- akin to an eye twitch, you’d learned early on that he’d use flexing as a subtle way to reduce stress in school. He can’t hide from you here.

“Why would you want to work? It’s the worst way to spend your time. We have enough money- let me provide for you until we retire. You shouldn’t have make that sacrifice.”

You make him turn in the narrow tub, and begin to lavish his back and shoulders with the soapy water. Despite your ministrations, he stays so tense. Thinking back, maybe Jamil had never been truly comfortable.

“You ‘sacrifice’ yourself every day for your job. I’m tired of being alone all the time. Tired of not having you when I need to- When was the last time we were close like this?”

“I guess.. You’re right. We need to do this more often, but I only want you to work if you want to.”

“I do! Promise! But, in return I want you picking up less hours. There’s no point if you’re not here.”

For the first time in years, you are happy. He leans into your chest lovingly, and looks at you. Really sees you again, like when you were younger, when you were passionate. The change’ll take time, but for now, you’re happy with the progress.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Thank you.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day??”

Beta read by @/Echosofmortality!!

[obvithe-bestsoph]

No. 27 | "Don't cry, I hate it when you cry." PG6

masterlist requests prompt list (if you request a prompt, please request a player for it as well!) warnings: none.

After yet another long day of work, you walk back through your apartment door and put your bag and coat on the hanger, tiredly wandering into the dining room and rubbing your eyes. You get the fright of your life, your boyfriend sitting at the table with a giant grin. After you calm down from the scare, you laugh slightly.

“Dios mío, Pablo. Some warning would’ve been nice.” He stands up and comes towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Lo siento (i’m sorry), I wanted to surprise you.” “Well, you definitely nailed the ‘surprise’ bit.” you chuckle, laying your head on his chest. “I cooked for you. Your favourite.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? Why?” “Why not?” he shrugs, “You’re my girlfriend, I love you, I wasn’t busy, and I assumed you would’ve had a long day, so I did something nice.” You smile slightly, “Of course you did. You’re too good to me.” “Just as good as you deserve. Now, sit.” he pulls out your chair for you and more or less forces you down into it.

A plate of (your favourite food) is put in front of you, and you grin up at Pablo. “Gracias, mi alma (thank you, my soul).” “De nada (you’re welcome).” “So how was training today?” you ask, looking at him as you both begin to eat. “Good, I think we’ll play well in the game on Wednesday. Speaking of, are you gonna be able to come?” “I wish, and I hope so, but I’d have to ask my boss to finish an hour early. And when she’s the one approving it, there’s a very small chance it’ll actually happen. But if I can’t be there in person, I’ll be secretly checking the score on my phone under my desk.” you smile weakly, you really are sick of your nightmare of a boss. Pablo frowns. “How come everyone else’s leave always gets approved, but never yours? How come she always gives you more work than everyone else? Does she not like you or something?” You sigh and shrug, “Honestly, your guess is as good as mine. It sure seems like she doesn’t like me, but I have no idea why. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything wrong or made a mistake around her.” Pablo’s frown only grows. “I don’t understand why you even still work there, why can’t you just find another job? Hell, why can’t you just quit? I’ve told you before, I make more money than I know what to do with, it would literally be no problem if you stopped working, let me support you, and moved into my apartment with me.”

“Because I’d feel bad.” “Well, that’s stupid. Why?” “Just because. You don’t need to be paying for all my shit on top of all yours.” Pablo rolls his eyes. “You aren't a particularly expensive person, Y/N. You rarely even let me buy you anything. You insist on paying for your portion of meals and always buy me far too much for Christmas and my birthday, etc.” “Yes, because I’m your girlfriend, not your financial burden.” “Spoiling the love of my life every once and a while is hardly a ‘financial burden.’ You’re being ridiculous.” “I don’t want to argue with you, long story short, the answer is no. It’s just one annoying boss, nothing I can’t handle. And I’m fine with working.” Pablo scoffs and the room is silent for a few moments. “Look, I only suggest it because I love you, okay? I want you to just be able to come to my games, home or away, and not have to know about it 2 weeks before so you can apply for leave, only for it to be denied by that demon of a boss you have. I hate that you’re always exhausted on all our dates because you’ve had a long week, that you fall asleep so early that we never have time to do anything… fun… at night anymore. I just want you to be free and happy. Por favor? Para mi? (please? for me?)”

You look at him for a moment before looking down at your plate again. “I’ll think about it.”

Pablo grinned again, he knew that was more a less an ‘Okay, fine, you win.’

“Gracias. Te amo, mi vida (thanks. i love you, my life).”

Later that night, you guys were cuddled up on your couch, Pablo was watching the movie that was on the TV screen, and you were on your phone. Finally, he looked down. “What are you doing?” he asks curiously. You look up at him and grin. “Sending in my resignation notice.” His eyes go wide and he sits upright, “You’re kidding.” “Nope.” “Oh my god!” he breaks out into yet another grin, pulling you into a proper hug. “Thank you, thank you so much,” he whispers into the skin of your neck. “Why are you thanking me? It should be the other way around, you’re the one who’s basically retiring me early.” you smile, and Pablo chuckles lightly. Eventually, Pablo calms down from his excitement a little and watches over your shoulder as you finish typing out the email. “I can’t believe I’m seriously about to do this.” you say quietly, your finger hovering over the ‘Send’ button. “Neither, but I promise, you won’t regret it.” he presses his lips to the top of your head. A few moments go by, and you still don’t press the button. “Are you gonna send it, or what?” “Pablo, I’m scared,” you whisper, looking up at him, and he can see the worry and uncertainty in your eyes. His expression and tone soften, “Why?” “I don’t know… I just am.” “You don’t have to do this right now, you know?” “I know, but I want to.” “Then send it.” “I can’t.” “Well, that’s kinda stupid.” You thrust the phone into his hand. “You do it.” “You’re sure?” You nod. Pablo hits send, and just like that, you’ve quit your job. You stare at the ‘Sent’ message for a moment before bursting into tears, burying your face into Pablo’s chest. He shushes you gently, rubbing your back and repeatedly kissing the top of your head, before eventually pulling your head away so he can look into your eyes. “Don’t cry, I hate it when you cry. What’s wrong?” he asks gently. “I- I’m just so happy. Thank you, Pablo. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” you sniff, speaking shakily through the tears. “Anything for you, mi niña preciosa (my precious girl).” he murmurs.

“I love you.” “I love you too, más que nada (more than anything).”

[jentlemahae]

Lisa: Are you ready for this? Zimzalabim!!!! 😼

bfnfndnsnssnjsjs

😭😭

[whenthegoldrays]

Wait. But what if Henry is majoring in architecture.

[zonotrichia-albicollis]

Giant personal vent time

This guy stole somewhere between 3 to 6 MILLION dollars from my grandmother by conning my great aunt into signing over her estate and medical & financial power of attorney to him literally on her death bed

I and my aunt have been working basically a whole second job the last 3 months trying to get together a legal case to go after this guy. And now my grandma wants to drop it. And no one else has standing so what the fuck can we do.

This man has absolutely done this to other ppl before, there is no doubt in my mind. I’ve seen his property records for just what’s publicly available in my county and it’s sketchy as hell. I am never going to get over this but there’s nothing I can do.

Gonna put like a million more thoughts in the tags because I’m losing my fucking mind.

[releaseholiday]

"#I have a lot of thoughts on how unhealthy their relationship with their job is" please share

[seilon]

kinda hate that my go-to non-merch clothing store choices are vans and hollister like we GET it im fucking californian

[barley-st-band]

tags from @cemeterything

I don’t think it’s true at all that the reason most people dress boring is that they want to fit in sometimes you just need to accept that not everyone is obsessed with finding a unique style some people just wear clothes to avoid public indecency

[steampunk-raven]

i love corsets shoutout to corsets

[specialagentartemis]

man. People get so upset when you call things social constructs. Thinking that if you say something is a social construct that means it's fake and unnatural, and following that, that that means it’s bad. Something being a social construct means that it’s socially constructed. That’s it.

Money is a social construct. Weekends are a social construct. Vegetables are a social construct.

That doesn’t mean it’s okay if my paycheck is withheld or my rent is late. Doesn’t mean I don’t luxuriate in sleeping in on Saturday. Doesn’t mean the nutrients in tomatoes or spinach aren’t good for you.

What it means is that the way we think about things is socially constructed, and could be constructed a different way. Why do we base our society around money? What does value mean outside of money? What is “value”? The way we construct it isn’t the only possible way.

Why is a week a cycle of seven days, and five of those days are for working and two of those days are for resting? Could we organize our time differently? Should we? What would that look like? Other cultures don’t/didn’t have seven-day weeks with a five on-two off cycle. It’s not inevitable. It’s historically and culturally specific.

“Fruit” has a scientific definition but “vegetable” does not. Many parts of plants are culinarily defined as vegetables. Fruits (eggplant, avocado, tomato), stems (celery, asparagus), leaves (kale, lettuce), roots (carrots, potatoes, turnips)… all of these are culturally categorized as vegetables. And nutrition advice is based on this cultural categorization. Is a mushroom a vegetable? It’s not even a plant! Why do we categorize it this way? Why isn’t wheat or oats considered vegetables, but corn is, except when it isn’t? Could we categorize our plant-based food other ways?

Calling these social constructs doesn’t mean they’re bad or unimportant. It just calls attention to the fact that they aren’t inevitable. That they could be constructed in different ways, and that is worth thinking about, and thinking about the value we get in constructing things the way we do.

Gender is a social construct.

Romance is a social construct.

They are based on feelings, desires, and experiences, but how we name and categorize and express and act on them are fully culturally constructed. Other cultures do and have constructed these concepts in other ways. You can like the way we do it now. You can find it stifling. But the way we do it now is not the only, inevitable, inherent, real way. It could be done other ways, organized and categorized and conceptualized in other ways. And that’s not a bad thing either.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (Dilf!Simon, your next door neighbor, reader’s around early 20s, Simon’s around late 30s~early 40s) pt.2

Just retired and move into a new flat, Simon doesn’t expect someone to knock on his door when he’s unpacking his belongings. With slight annoyance, he opens the door and try to dismiss whoever is out there.

His annoyance vanishes quickly when he lays eyes on you, young, gorgeous, gazing up at him with a baggy shirts barely cover the sweat-shorts. The simple apron on the outside looks incredible on you, the fabric of it rises and taut around your chest. Greeting him with a grin and hand him a plate of biscuits. A welcome gift for the new neighbor, you explain to him before leaving with a wave, hips swaying tantalizingly as you saunter back to your flat and close the door behind you.

He becomes closer to you each day, helping you without a word when one day he hears noises from the staircase outside, swings open the door of his flat and discovers you struggling with the heavy groceries bags. When you sheepishly knock on his door again, holding a screwdriver and fidgeting it, telling him you have some issues with assembling the new bookshelf you bought, he already starts his steps and walks into your flat, finish the work in minutes while you circling around cutely and trying to help like a desperate puppy.

To express your thankfulness to him, you invite him to have dinner with you, become a habit of yours when he shoots you a glance with a ‘Not bad.” but devours your home cooked meal like a man starved for days.

Sweet, beautiful girl, a year before graduating from college, expressing your insecurity about your future when he hinted that you can share your worries with him—a person who has much more experience than you— a while ago, he provides some insight and rational advice, swallowing back the words he’s been thought about for months now: Slide the silver ring on your ring finger with his name name engraved on it, makes you his missus and away from all shites the society is boiling everyday. A man alone for years and has low material desires, he has the money to take care of and spoil you without any hesitation.

He’s been fisting his cock whenever he hears your moans coming from the other aide of the wall. Hell, you don’t know how shitty and thin the walls are, the soundproof ability of them is imperceptible when it comes to louder sounds. Simon listens closely to the sounds, closing his eyes, head leans back on the armchair, trying to imagine how you must be right now. Hands in sync of the squelchy sounds of you pumping your fingers in and out of that soaked pussy. His cock’s so huge, even his own palms are just big enough wrapped around the girth, and an obscene growl left his lips as your whimpers and moans turn higher and sultrier, definitely look like a goddess when you’re weeping tears, stuffing your cunny full and craving for the release. But when you finally tumble over the edge, he snaps his eyes open and groans the second his name comes out of your mouth with such honeyed tone, crying his name in need and suppressed desire.

Simon jumps up from the armchair, heavy cock forming an obvious tent when he shoves open his door and knocks on yours impatiently. “Wait-Wait me a second…!” your voice hits his ears with trembles that can’t be left unnoticed.

“ 'S what you want, love? getting bent over by a man older than you and fucked stupid? Is that so, princess?” He squeezes himself through the crack of your door, kicking it close and pinning your upper body on the shoe cabinet beside the door, your legs dangling in the air as he drives the fat tip into your entrance ferociously, tight cunt still spasming from your orgasm and makes him grunts out a curse, “Fucking screaming my name when you touch yourself, hmm? you know you can come to me anytime you need something, like I told you before.”

He gets you cry out in pleasure without any concern of receiving complaints from other neighbors, wrapping your legs back and standing between your wide-spread thighs, leaning his weight on your back while his hips rocks unrelentingly. “No more, no more…Simon!” You clenching down on his shaft so nice and hot, milking him loads after loads, the angry tip of his cock abusing every spots inside you, and your legs are shaking uncontrollably when he finally comes one last time, satiated both your needs for now, and you the last thing you feel before succumbing to slumber is a gentle kiss pressing on your twitching, overstimulated clit as his seeds flood out of your swollen pussy.

The relationship between you and him deepens since that night,and he doesn’t stop you or protest when you wear the low-cut top and cute skirt, semi-transparent thigh high stockings keeps attracting his attention to stare at the bare skin of your thighs between them and the skirt, and wave goodbye at him with an apologetic expression before heading off to a party with your college friends. He knows the importance of these social activities between youngsters, so he didn’t get mad or upset, just kiss your temple, reminded you to stay safe and call him whenever you need, then he’d be there in no time.

You sure will turn heads wherever you go tonight, and though there might be some troublesome wankers trying their luck on you, but he knows you won’t even spare them anything beside a polite nod of rejection. You’re all his, you won’t feel the same bliss and love from those young blokes of your age. No one can make you feel as good as he does, they can’t make you squirt all over the floor when he eats you out at the countertop, no one knows how to lower and disperse all your concerns and thoughts like him, with his tongue lapping your perked buds and that long cock massaging your cervix, coaxing countless orgasms out of you before you fall asleep in his embrace contently.

So when you ring him just about 2 hours later, asking if he can come pick you up at the club, he immediately hops in to his truck, pulls up at the location you texted him. He doubts how your breasts haven’t spilled out your low cut tops, but he’s definitely enjoying the view, your cheeks burning from the alcohol, pawing at his shirt and whining about how you missed him, how boring the party was and you just wanted to go home and bounce on his dick through your tipsy state.

Good that Simon parked his truck at a secluded spot, so you don’t need to wait any longer, let him bend you over the hood and kneel down behind you, tongue shoving deep inside, occasionally pulls out and prodding at your pussy to calm you down from keep pleading him to just fuck you already and rubbing his bulge when he just wants to drive you home first. “Will give you the cock you’ve been thinking all night when we’re home, sweetheart.” He speaks against your slick pussy lips before diving back to lick every drop of your sugary juices again.