#party boy

You sat cross-legged on your bed, black leather pants sticking to your thighs, a faded Pantera tee draped off your shoulder. Tattoos crawled up your arms, piercings glinting when the sunlight cut across your face. Your boot tapped out the tempo as you layered a riff that was pure Korn with just enough System of a Down weirdness to make it hit harder.

You were in your own world—until Ryan Dunn’s voice broke through from the living room.

“Dude, what the fuck is that?”

Steve-O looked up from the joint he was rolling, blinking. “Oh, that? Uh… shit. That’s my sister.”

Bam whipped his head around like someone had just set him on fire. “You have a sister?”

Knoxville nearly spit out his beer. “Wait, wait, wait. You’ve been keeping a sister from us this whole time?”

Pontius grinned wide, shirt long gone as usual. “That’s not just a sister, that’s a shredder.”

Ryan leaned forward, squinting toward the hallway. “Man, that sounded badass. Bring her out, Steve.”

Steve-O groaned, already regretting the soundproofing situation. “Nah, nah, trust me, you don’t wanna meet her. She’ll chew you guys up and spit you out.”

Which of course, only made them more curious.

Bam shoved Steve-O’s shoulder, laughing. “Shut the fuck up and go get her, dude. You’re hiding treasure in your house.”

“Yeah,” Knoxville chimed in, “and it’s not like you can keep her from us forever.”

Steve-O rolled his eyes, muttered something about bad ideas, and stomped down the hall.

You’d barely finished the riff when he cracked your door open. “Yo, sis—pause the death metal recital for a sec. The guys wanna meet you.”

You gave him a look. “The guys?”

He grimaced. “Yeah. Those guys.”

You sighed, set your guitar aside, and swung the door open.

Silence fell in the living room the moment you stepped in.

You stood in the doorway with your guitar still slung over your shoulder, leather boots scuffed, tattoos peeking from under ripped sleeves. Your hair fell in messy waves, dark eyeliner making your eyes sharp as hell.

“…Well?” you asked flatly.

Pontius clapped like a kid at Christmas. “She’s fucking awesome!”

Ryan let out a long whistle. “Steve, you never told us your sister looked like she could crush our skulls and headline Ozzfest.”

Knoxville smirked. “That explains why you kept her hidden.”

Bam was quiet—at least, for him. He leaned forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, grinning like he’d just found his new favorite thing in the world. “That riff… was that yours?”

You smirked. “Yeah. Working on something heavy. Probably too complicated for your brain cells.”

Knoxville cackled, beer spraying. Pontius practically rolled off the couch laughing. Ryan muttered, “Damn, she’s got Steve’s mouth.”

Bam didn’t even flinch. If anything, his grin got wider. “I like her.”

Steve-O groaned, flopping back on the couch.

“Goddammit.”

For the next half hour, the guys threw questions at you nonstop.

Ryan wanted to know your favorite Korn album. Knoxville joked about filming a Jackass band spin-off. Pontius begged you to play “something sexy” on guitar until Steve-O told him to shut the hell up.

But it was Bam who really zeroed in.

“You into HIM at all?” he asked, leaning toward you like the rest of the room had disappeared.

“Yeah. Ville’s voice is insane.”

Bam lit up. “No fucking way. He’s one of my best friends. He’d lose his shit over your music.”

You raised a brow. “Ville Valo? The Ville Valo?”

“The one and only,” Bam said, cocky grin intact. “You gotta meet him. We’re always filming dumb shit at my place, Castle Bam. You’d fit right in.”

Steve-O threw his hands up. “Oh hell no. She is not getting sucked into your chaos, Bam.”

But Bam’s grin only grew, eyes locked on you. “She already is chaos, dude. I can tell.”

You plucked a sharp riff on your guitar, smirking at your brother. “Maybe the monster was already here, Steve.”

The whole room erupted in laughter. Bam’s laugh was the loudest, and for the first time, you didn’t mind being dragged into the circus.

LATER - CASTLE BAM

Steve-O swore up and down that letting you tag along to Castle Bam was “the worst fucking idea” he’d ever had. Which, considering the man had stapled his balls to his leg before, was saying a lot.

But Bam had insisted—loudly, relentlessly—until Steve-O finally threw his hands up and muttered, “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when she burns your house down.”

The first thing you noticed when you got to Castle Bam was how the entire place screamed Bam Margera’s brain on Red Bull. Half-pipes in the backyard, ramps bolted to the staircase, walls covered in graffiti, and a giant pirate flag waving over the driveway.

“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath. “It’s like MTV had a fever dream and left it here to rot.”

Bam, grinning ear to ear, flung open the front door. “Welcome to paradise, sweetheart.”

Steve-O groaned. “She’s gonna fucking hate you.”

Inside was even worse. Novak was already half-naked in the kitchen, yelling about how he couldn’t find pants. Ryan Dunn sat on the couch drinking a beer at 2 p.m., while Raab Himself tried to duct-tape Knoxville’s shoes to the ceiling. Ape and Phil were in the background—Ape yelling, Phil laughing like he’d given up on life years ago.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, stepping over a skateboard that came flying past your boots.

Ryan looked up and spotted you. “Holy shit, Steve actually brought her!”

Pontius—who had apparently already found a reason to strip down again—threw both arms in the air. “The rock goddess has arrived!”

You adjusted your guitar strap, smirking. “You guys don’t even deserve to look at me.”

The room exploded in laughter, Bam’s especially loud. He shoved Dunn’s shoulder. “See? I told you she was metal as fuck.”

Ryan grinned. “She’s got sharper teeth than you, Bam.”

“Good,” Bam said, not missing a beat. His eyes flicked toward you, warm and mischievous all at once.

Steve-O groaned. “Oh no. Nope. I don’t like that look.”

Within ten minutes, you were dragged outside to the backyard ramp where Bam and Dunn were already dropping in on their boards. Bam shoved his deck toward you.

“C’mon. You skate?”

You raised a brow. “Do I look like I skate?”

“Yes,” Pontius said immediately, grinning like an idiot.

Bam smirked. “Then prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, took the board, and stepped onto the ramp. It had been years since you’d skated seriously, but muscle memory kicked in quick. You dropped in clean, carved one smooth line, and hopped off before you could eat shit.

The crew roared like you’d just landed a 900.

“Holy fuck!” Dunn yelled, spilling beer down his shirt.

Bam jogged over, grabbing his board back with that wild grin. “Okay, I’m officially in love.”

Steve-O smacked him upside the head. “Back off, Bam.”

But Bam wasn’t listening. His eyes were still locked on you, like he was trying to figure out what made you tick.

The chaos was interrupted when a black Escalade rolled up the driveway. Out stepped Ville Valo, long coat, eyeliner sharp, cigarette already dangling from his fingers like it was part of his hand.

“Speak of the devil,” Bam muttered, jogging over to greet him.

“Bam, what the hell is going on here?” Ville’s voice was deep, smooth, tired.

“Just the usual,” Bam said. “Hey—got someone you gotta meet.” He grabbed your arm without warning and pulled you forward. “This is Steve-O’s sister. She shreds guitar like a demon.”

Ville’s eyes flicked over you, slow and assessing. “So you’re the one making all the noise Steve’s been hiding from us.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Noise? That’s art, sweetheart.”

Ville’s mouth curved into the faintest smile. “I like her.”

Bam grinned, looking between you and Ville like he’d just brokered some kind of unholy alliance.

“Told you she’d fit right in.”

Steve-O threw his hands in the air. “Oh, great. Now I gotta deal with both of you corrupting her.”

Hours later, the house was a full-blown circus. Novak had gotten himself duct-taped to a chair, Ryan was passed out on the couch, Knoxville was scheming something with fireworks, and Pontius had declared himself “Lord of the Hot Tub.”

You ended up outside on the back steps, guitar in hand, cigarette burning low between your fingers. Ville sat beside you, listening quietly while you played one of your darker riffs. Bam leaned against the railing, beer in hand, watching you with that same restless energy.

“Sounds like something Jonathan Davis would write,” Ville said softly.

You shrugged. “Guess Korn rubbed off on me.”

Bam’s grin widened. “You two are like soulmates or some shit.”

Ville smirked. “Careful, Bam. Don’t sound jealous.”

Bam shot him a look but didn’t deny it. Instead, he stepped closer, eyes still on you. “I’m just saying… you’re fucking rad. Didn’t think anyone could keep up with this circus, but—you do.”

You strummed one last sharp chord, the sound ringing into the night. Then you looked up at him, smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe I belong in the circus.”