#but actually it Jean doesn’t have to die it could just be a thing

[thatexygurl]

real John Wick vibes

y'all ever think about when someone asked nora what would happen if the moriyamas killed andrew as a warning and neil crashes out SO BAD he literally ditches the "neil josten" persona just like that and reverts back to nathaniel hb pulled out ALL the stops he literally hunts down proust, goes to JAPAN just to give himself over as a HITMAN to the moriyamas' rival mafia family so he can take down the moriyama empire from there...thinking about that au. obv i would never want it to happen but GOD the power he holds.

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[ennabear]

heyyy i need loser sevika hc or literally anything do wtv you want im obsessed and i needdds

HEHEHEYAYYYYY i’m glad my loser!sevika thought was well received because i’ve had her on the brain recently… here are some general headcanons, but lemme know if y’all want more or anything specific!!! nsfw at the end so 18+!!!

definitely has no awareness of her surroundings. and the fact that she’s huge makes this even better. bumping into tables at the bar— even knocking them over, running into people 24/7, stepping on and tripping over her cape to the point that the bottom is constantly muddy and shredded… yeah. but it’s so adorable to watch her stumble around!!

i think she’s one of those people who always just quietly eavesdrops. her presence can go unnoticed if she wants it to, so she just leans against a wall and listens to two people share every secret she could ever need about their current enemy. fuck, she’ll probably even take notes and leave the notepad full of info on silco’s desk.

we all know that she’s mastered the scary lady facade, but other than that i think she just… i dunno how to put this nicely… sucks at talking to people. you cannot have a normal conversation with her because she’ll just talk too fast and trip over her words, or she’ll stare at you like she’s trying to kill you the whole time. it takes patience!!! if you’re nerding out with her about mechanics or shimmer variants or something, she’ll go on forever and not let you speak. it’s not like she’s trying to be rude, it’s just that she finally trusts someone enough to talk, and boy does she have a lot to say.

when you first met she was probably this way too, just with wayyyy more blushing and stuttering. if you ever call her cute after one of her rants, she’ll actually short circuit. she’d forget everything she was talking about and stare at you with stars in her eyes and find it suddenly hard to breathe. and is it hot in here? god she’s sweating now, how strange.

i think it would be good for her to be with someone who is more extroverted and will drag her ass out of the house (which is bad for me because i’m even more of a loser than she is…) because she probably sucks at being confrontational or having fun. not that she isn’t funny, she just doesn’t prefer to tell her jokes or to engage in conversation. she calls it being reserved and you call it being shy. (you’re right and she doesn’t want to admit it.)

ok nsfw thoughts now…

strap sucker supreme!! literally her favorite thing ever. she’ll sit under your desk forever and just gag herself on it. probably cumming in her pants with how good you feel down her throat, especially if you run your hands through her hair while she does it. hell yeah!! she could die happy between your legs this way.

imagining that the brothel doesn’t exist in this loserverse (or at least she doesn’t visit it), she’s definitely a virgin when she first meets you!! poor baby would cry her eyes out the first time you fuck her, practically screaming at how good you’re making her feel. she’s never been this intimate with anyone before, never felt so good about herself and her body, and fuck you’re good at this.

she probably loves dry humping and grinding too. you can’t cuddle with her without feeling her hips slowly start to move against you under the blankets. if you tease her about being horny or needy, she’ll just bury her face in your neck and muffle her whimpers. but of course you’ll help her get off, she’s so hard working and deserving of it, of course. just a lil bit of teasing first!!!

hehehe playing into the humiliation side of this (well, not really, she just thinks everything she does is humiliating), imagine asking her very nicely to wear her strap in public, especially if you pick out a tight pair of jeans for her that makes it obvious. the whole time she’d be wide eyed and on edge, assuming that everybody knows, but really nobody can tell because of the way she’s refusing to move her cloak. she won’t even let you grope her or look in her general direction. but also she’s blinded by horniness, she can’t even see straight because the only thing in her mind is how she’s gonna get to fuck you when you get home.

not really nsfw but i think sex with her would also just be so fun!! she’d be giggling at herself and clumsily trying to position you both, or you’d be accidentally kicking each other the whole time in a tangle of limbs and hair and kisses. so fun… so cute… where is my loser butch… (that’s a joke lol i’m the loser butch oops)

[jirsungs]

ep 17: i missed you (too)

word count: 3.1k

You join Jisung in the kitchen and when he sees you arrive, he hops off the counter before he can look at your choice of outfit for the evening. 

But when he does, he wishes he could rewind the moment you walked in so he can pay more attention because holy fuck. Those words were the only coherent thing he could pull out of his brain, but he didn’t blame himself for the mental trouble, because seriously, holy fuck.

Lord, he wishes that no one else has seen you in this black strapless midi dress, which he’s 80% sure is from Kukombo, he remembered you and Ning raving about it a couple of weeks back. Your hair perfectly dolled up, just like the first time he saw you, with your pearl necklace layered by your Tiffany & Co. Infinity Pendant necklace sitting pretty on your collarbone.

He recalls you gushing about how much you love layering jewelry pieces together or how complete it makes you feel on the first night you hung out alone. He also remembers you telling him that the Tiffany & Co. necklace you’re wearing now was bought with Renjun’s card after you begged him on your birthday. 

“You look pretty.” Jisung blurts out before his brain can process that those words actually left his mouth.

His compliment makes you smile. “Thank you.”

Should I have said more? Was that not enough? She looks absolutely gorgeous, but if I say that, I might come off desperate and I am not desperate. Wait. Am I?

Pfft, no, of course not.

He shakes out of his mental dilemma when he hears you talk again, “You too—I mean, you look good.”

Despite you seeing him blush in front of you and mumble a “thank you”, his physical appearance did not match. An awkward guy dressed in his black graphic t-shirt and gray denim baggy jeans. To everyone else, he was seen as a stern, quiet dude who stayed close to his friends and played drums weekly, but to you? He was anything but stern or quiet.

“What’s with us always meeting in kitchens?” You try to joke, your horrible attempt to ease the weird tension in the air.

It was a pretty bad joke, if you could even call it one, but at least, you know that there will be someone who laughs at anything you say. And that’s Jisung. “Right? I guess it’s the place where we’re just destined to be together. We first met in Karina’s kitchen, then had our first interaction after Karina’s party in Johnny’s kitchen—”

“One horrible interaction.” You both wince at the immature memory. 

“Yep, it was pretty bad… But now, you’re here with me in Chenle’s kitchen after… ghosting me for two weeks.”

An awkward laugh escapes your mouth, not knowing what to say now that the air suddenly grew uncomfortable. Fortunately for you, Jisung doesn’t notice and is instead embarrassed by himself.

“Sorry, I said kitchen too many times. That was–it sounded weird.”

It’s been two weeks without him and yet somehow, he still holds the power of making it impossible for you to be mad at him. You hate that you always find his awkwardness endearing.

“You’re fine, Ji. In fact, it didn’t sound weird to me at all.” You reassuringly smile, nudging his side.

And that one overused nickname he's heard from multiple different people sounded the prettiest when it came from you. A light switched in him and the next thing you know, Jisung's ranting about Rockway's past gig to Jeno breaking their blender after attempting to make a blueberry banana smoothie for him before their workout at the gym.

Your friends come over once they spot you two in the kitchen corner together, cutting your conversation short. Suddenly, you’re in the arms of Ning and Haechan, engulfing you in a hug while Jisung is kept occupied in conversation with Renjun, Mark, and Jaemin. 

Soon after, your interactions die down with Ning and Haechan accompanying each other to go dance and the three guys who busied Jisung left due to Chenle pulling them away for a game of beer pong. 

Chenle was successful in dragging Jaemin and Renjun while Mark followed suit. But as Mark was about to leave, he stopped to offer Jisung a spot to join, which you encouraged, since Rockway usually boasts about how skilled he is at the game. But he turned down his friend’s offer with a shake of his head. 

You guess Jisung made a signal to the clueless guitarist because Mark says no more, glancing between you and him before letting out an “Ohhh…” He winks at the guy next to you, who you see grow more flustered by the minute, and exits out of the kitchen.

Jisung finally lets go of the breath you didn’t realize he was holding onto for so long and you’re left alone together once more.

The quiet gives Jisung the perfect opportunity to continue catching up with you. You’re not even thirty minutes into the conversation when it gets interrupted again, this time by Yeonjun and Jeno whining about their loss in beer pong. And after multiple pleas from them, they were finally able to pull the beloved drummer boy away from your side.

“I’ll be right back after this, I promise.” Jisung gives you one last pouty look before the guys tug him by the arms. 

“Yeah yeah, don’t get clingy, lover boy.” Yeonjun chirps out as he and Jeno drag him away, the latter following up with a, “We’ll take good care of him, Y/N!”

Your eyes follow the three guys, they join the crowded table that has multiple red solo cups set on either side, and you take notice of how Jisung radiates a whole new light when he’s surrounded by his bandmates, along with your friends. You adored that you all became such a tight-knit group so quickly. It’s nice. Well, sometimes. Haechan and Mark currently screaming over one another is one of the reasons why you say “sometimes.”

“You guys already have Yeonjun! Let us have Jisunggg!” Haechan whines. 

Mark lets out a humorless laugh, “What’re you talking about? Renjun clearly made y’all win last game!”

Your eyes shift over to Jisung, who’s covering his ears at the noise. It makes you laugh under your breath.

Luckily, the argument between Haechan and Mark didn’t last long because the next time you looked over, they were already concentrating on their game. Shotaro, a mutual friend of Rockway’s, was focusing his aim on the cup. 

While Jisung is playing beer pong with the others, you’re left alone, feeling peaceful as you watch the party around you. But to your dismay, your content mood turns sour when you see Jaeyun, your ex-situationship, walk over.

“Y/N alone at a party? That’s a new one.” He snickers, pouring himself a cup of the cheap beer.

You watch him take a sip and scowl. “What are you doing here?” 

“It’s an open-invite party, pretty face. You know I never skip out on these.”

“You’re not even friends with Chenle, or anyone here, for that matter.”

Jaeyun takes another sip of his drink, “Eh, so what? Again,” He lowers himself to directly meet your eyes, “It’s a free party.”

He disgusts you.

Once Jisung takes his turn throwing the small ping-pong ball towards the cup and it lands inside, as expected, his teammates Jeno, Mark, Yeonjun, and Wonbin cheer and hype the drummer up at his performance. 

As Jisung glances between the four guys surrounding him, he sees you accompanied by someone in the background. His friends don’t notice him moving to the back of them as their attention is set on Jeno already being pushed to the front for his turn.

His eyes widen when he realizes who's talking to you. Jaeyun. The one guy you told him about on your first hangout together when he was curious about your past. He’s glad you didn’t hide yourself away from him when he asked because now, he knows that the guy is nothing but a lovebombing asswipe. But what he isn’t so thrilled about is the fact that he shares a class with the guy, let alone the same major. 

You’re uneasy, he can tell. It’s painful to watch. And he’s sure your feeling gets worse once he sees you grow visibly stiff when a girl comes over and kisses Jaeyun on the cheek.

Insecure isn’t typically a word Jisung would use to describe himself. He sometimes becomes doubtful of himself, sure, but insecure isn’t a word that would be in his pile of descriptions. Plus, he knows he's on your mind every second of every day, and that was more than enough assurance for him. 

But Jaeyun intimidated the hell out of him, he knew this, despite being a few months older than him, Jaeyun was bulkier and he was aware that his looks could kill, he guessed that’s how he got you gripped on him at one point in your life. However, that still didn’t stop him from excusing himself from his friends, lying to them that he needed to go to the bathroom.

Surprisingly, his friends paid no attention to his departure with how engrossed they were in their game, making it easier for him to rush to the kitchen. 

You’re too busy tolerating Jaeyun and his next fling’s drained conversation they were having with you, to notice him walk in. That is until you feel a presence beside you and an arm wrapped around your waist, leading you to look up at the culprit and see Jisung. It was new seeing him touch you so comfortably like this, or be possessive either. You weren’t complaining though, it was definitely something you could get used to.

But the said man doesn’t have time to make eye contact with you because all he’s focused on is his main goal here, and that’s for Jaeyun to get out of your goddamn face.

“Sim, you’re not making her uncomfortable, are you?”

What is he doing? You think. Jaeyun letting out a low whistle and opening his obnoxious mouth again doesn’t allow you to dwell on it.

“Wow, Y/N, I didn’t think you were into,” He eyes Jisung up and down unimpressed, “lousy playing drummer boys all that much.”

Oh God.

You feel Jisung’s arm around you tense up, “What did you just say?”

Jaeyun only snickers. You watch Woona, his new fling who you, unfortunately, remember the name of cling onto him tighter. You roll your eyes at the action.

“I mean, as far as I remember, you were better than picking underground losers off the low-paying nightclubs his band plays at.”

You scoff. It was obvious he knew nothing about Jisung, Rockway, or any of their successes, “You’re full of shit, Jaeyun.”

Your ex-situationship couldn’t care less about what you said because once he sees Jisung’s fuming face slightly falter, he knows he got him. So he continues, “Jisung, I’m warning you now, man. You better find a better chick 'cause all you got right now is some bitch who’ll whore around for anyone with a dick attached—”

Everything happens in a blink of an eye. You seriously don’t know how.

One moment Jisung’s arm is wrapped around your body then the next, he and Jaeyun are on the kitchen floor while Jisung lunges at him right away, giving Jaeyun barely time to react before his fist crashes down on him. The connection to Jaeyun’s jaw creates a painful crunch that echoes across the room, resulting in some partygoers reacting to the scene.

Your expression never changes as you watch in disbelief at the whole thing, Woona instantly screaming and trying to push Jisung off. It doesn’t work though, she falls over when Jaeyun attempts to regain himself, bouncing back a punch that has Jisung’s head taking a hit to the side. But Jisung rapidly returns his attention. Regaining control of his fist, he delivers another vicious blow to Jaeyun’s face, then follows with another, and another, and by the next punch, he finds himself losing control.

The number of punches he’s thrown, Jisung stays unaware of it, and frankly, he doesn’t give a shit about it. He continues to stay unaware even when people’s arms are grasping him from behind to force him from the wounded Jaeyun.

“Jisung, what the fuck is wrong with you?” It isn’t until Haechan’s distressed voice snaps him out of his daze, that he finally notices Jaeyun being helped up by Yuta and Jungwoo.

He observes Jaeyun’s bleeding lip and bruised face and finds no remorse in his heart. Throwing punches at the guy isn’t the worst thing he could’ve done, he knew that Jaeyun knew he deserved it too.

Instead of answering Haechan and the others as their worries talk over one another, his breath remains raggedy when he takes a glance over at you, you didn’t move from the spot, your hand over your chest as you’re heaving, trying to recollect yourself from what just happened. His gaze is fixated on you while your eyes shift between Jaeyun and Woona, who’s giving you the worst side eye known to man. 

Jisung guesses he didn’t hit Jaeyun hard enough, because he dares to open his mouth again. His voice raspy and taunting, “Shit, you’re lucky your band came to the rescue ‘cause I would’ve ripped you apart.”

“You never shut your mouth, do y—” It was stupid, Jisung knew it was, but it still had him attempting to pounce forward in the grasp of his friends but they swiftly pulled him back, making loud protests.

With all the voices that rang throughout the room, Chenle’s was the only one that caught Jisung’s attention, seeing his best friend angry was a usual thing, just not like this, “Ji, if you don’t wanna calm yourself down, take this shit outside.”

“Fine.” The younger’s eyes soften as he looks between Haechan and Jaemin who are currently holding him, “Let go of me.”

Haechan arches his brow at him, unsure of whether to trust Jisung or if he'll start something when he’s freed, but the two exchange a look before letting him go.

And just like that, Jisung storms out of the kitchen, paying no mind to Jaeyun who tries to reach for him. He exits Chenle’s apartment, and you immediately follow after him. 

Your hurried steps make contact with the concrete sidewalk as you reach outside of the house, trying to walk faster to match his pace. The cold air quickly reaches your body, making you rub your arms in hopes of warming up. 

When you’re walking close behind him, you speak up, “Jisung, I can’t believe you just did that! That whole thing was unnecessary, I don’t even know why you decided to get yourself hurt over someone as stupid as Jaeyun!” Your words coming out as a scold.

His abrupt stop in his tread almost makes you bump into him, but he turns himself around and faces you. He lashes out. “Unnecessary? My ass, it was unnecessary! I couldn't stand hearing him talk about you like that, especially when he's the one who treated you like garbage.”

Confused at his sudden outburst, you lash back, “Jisung, why did you do that?”

Jisung releases a deep breath, “Y/N, I did it because…” He can’t dare to look at you, so he glances up at the night sky instead. "Geez..."

You grow angrier seeing his focus not on you, “What, Jisung? What?”

“Fuck, because I like you, you idiot! Can’t you see that?” Your eyes slightly widen and you swallow the next agitated remark resting on your tongue. With you now becoming quiet, he allows himself to slowly calm down, “Look… I know I'm not the best with words, we know that. But these whole two weeks of me waiting by the phone just for one single text from you confused the hell outta me. I mean, at one point, you're hating me, and then I'm hating you, to us being friends, now to whatever this is.” He motions his hands between the two of you in a stressed manner.

Still. You can’t believe your ears, so you dumbly ask, “You what?”

He’s calmed down by this point, looking like an ashamed puppy, “I like you, Y/N. I really really like you.”

“And what makes you think I didn't feel the same?” Now it's Jisung's turn to be confused, his lost eyes being nothing but cute to you. Even beaten up, he was adorable. You sigh, “I like you too, stupid.” 

“Oh, thank God.” 

In a flash, his head is tilted down to match your height, and he leans in, his hands reaching for your jaw. Then, his lips meet yours. His fingers keep their place on your jaw, gentle and scared to move down. Finally, he thinks. Expecting you to pull away, he’s surprised when you kiss him back, your hands gripped on his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Fireworks weren’t going off, but your heart sure felt like they were.

You never thought your first kiss with Jisung would be like this, desperate and full of want. But you don’t care, he longed for this, and so did you. 

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. He circles your waist with both arms, before he speaks, his breath still heavy, “I know that you told me you always wished for a fairytale kiss, but I couldn’t help it anymore. So, uh, I hope that kinda made up for it?”

He just kissed you and he’s awkward?

You affectionately smile, “It made up for it, Ji. Really.” You loop your arms around his neck. “Now is this a bad time to apologize for how stupid it was to ghost you or…?”   

He chuckles, “You’re cute.” You pout and mumble a “shut up” before he continues, “But yes, it is. I mean, I already forgave you the moment you came over. I’m kinda hurt you didn’t realize that.”

His fake frown leads you to remove one arm from his neck and smack his chest, “I can’t read between the lines!” 

“My bad, my bad. That was my fault for thinking so.”

You hmph, both of your arms taken off his neck for you to cross them instead, “Thank you.”

Jisung thinks your attitude is adorable, and he can’t even be mad at you. Especially with you finally in his arms again after yearning for you for three months, it made everything worth it.

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note: THEY FINALLY SAID IT YALLL 🙏 this chapter is cliché and cheesy af!!!! but did i still kick my feet proofreading it? of course, i did 🤭 also so sorry for such a late update ☹️, i got busy prioritizing other things! but i'm finally back!

🎫: @idkwhatursayinh @sunghoonsgfreal @multifandomania @nanaxwi @odxrilove @sourrpatched @hancafe @chaellaa @dojaejunging @jising-jisang-jisung @heheheeral @haechansbbg @renjunsversion @seunghancore @woshixinqgiu @jiiieun @pinknjm @mrshwang-park @neozon3nha @joyzluvr @aerivrs @nosungluv @haechology @beomgyusonlywife @injunnie-lemon @tommina @222low

[metalhoops]

Steve was going to die crouched behind a picnic table in an unfamiliar town. That’s how he saw it, anyway. 

He’d been looking for Robin. That’s where it all went wrong. She hadn’t shown up for work at the video store that Saturday morning. It wasn’t like her. The two had just started at their new job and it was a goddamn Saturday. Steve had been run off his feet all day. 

At the end of his shift, he couldn’t help but look for her. Since the incident with the Russians, both he and Robin had their days where they would disappear, but they’d always let the other know they were safe. 

Steve never used to be a worst-case-scenario kind of guy until everything with The Upside Down. All day he’d felt panic rising in his stomach. What if she’d been taken by demogorgons or kidnapped by secret government operatives?

He drove the BMW past all of Robin’s familiar haunts. She wasn’t at home or at Steve’s place. The school was closed, so she couldn’t be at band and she’d have asked him to drive her to the movies.

That’s when he started to check the places he didn’t want to find her. The Junkyard, Lover’s Lake, and the remains of the Hawkins lab.  She wasn’t there. It was then he recalled a conversation they’d had last Sunday. 

“All right, I’ve got some more evidence,” Robin had exclaimed days before, and Steve had known exactly what she was talking about. 

“Well don’t hold out on me, Rob,” Steve pushed, pulling out a notebook he should’ve been using to keep track of people’s late rental returns. 

Instead, it harboured two columns and a series of tallies, an ode to their Scoops Days Steve was secretly proud of thinking up. ‘Vicky likes boobies’, proclaimed one column while the other argued, ‘Vicky doesn’t like boobies’. He’d never said he was mature. Plus Steve got a kick out of watching Robin squirm. They’d been trying to work out if Vicky was a viable crush. Steve thought she was but so far the columns were an even split. 

“Last night I saw her car parked outside the fairgrounds in the next town over. Any other day of the week and I wouldn’t think it was weird, but Saturday night, it’s a spot, you know?” Steve didn’t know. 

“A spot?” He echoed. 

“Yeah, you know? Like how skull rock is ‘a spot’ but it’s only for certain kinds of people.” Steve’s brow pinched together and he nodded. 

He could imagine what Robin was implying. He’d added another tally to his favourite side and thought nothing more of it until he’d run out of places to look for Robin in Hawkins. It was a Saturday night. It was a long shot, but he’d take it.

Steve drove to the next town over and was surprised to see a smattering of cars at the fairground. There were a handful of boys in their twenties sitting on picnic benches around a boombox playing music Steve was vaguely familiar with. Then there were a couple of girls sipping beer and passing the bottle around. 

If you didn’t know, it’d seem like any other half-assed party but if you knew what to look for, you’d know you were in the right place. Steve didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who knew what to look for. 

One of the guys had his hand tucked into the back pocket of another’s jeans. Then, of course, he saw his fair share of coloured hankies, carabineers and key rings. Sometimes, Steve actually listened when Robin talked to him about that kind of stuff. He figured it must get lonely, not having anyone to talk to about those things. He wanted to be a good friend even if he couldn’t relate to Robin. Steve liked girls. That was the beginning and end of it.  

He studied each of the partygoers' faces and felt his throat begin to constrict. Robin wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? This had been the last stone left unturned. Now what? 

Steve’s heartbeat was a kick drum, threatening to crack his ribs in two as it burst from his chest cavity. His vision began to tunnel and a ringing in his ears swelled to a crescendo as he crouched behind an abandoned picnic table.

What if something happened to her? How the hell was he meant to find her? 

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up with a start, almost leaping out of his skin when he saw one of the boy’s faces inches from his. The space was dark, illuminated only by the moon and the intermittent flickering of car headlights.

“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” The boy instructed.

His voice was vaguely familiar, but Steve couldn’t string together a coherent set of thoughts. His body was focused on not keeling over. He tried to copy the overdramatised rise and fall of the boy’s chest. 

“There you go,” the boy soothed as Steve’s breathing evened out. 

“Guessing, it’s your first time here. Don’t worry too much about it. The first time I went to a gay bar in Indy I had a panic attack in the bathroom.” Munson. The voice belonged to Eddie Munson, Steve’s brain supplied at last. 

They’d gone to high school together. Though Steve wasn’t sure if the guy had graduated. He vaguely recalled Eddie hating all jocks on principal and Steve had tried to give the boy a wide berth because of it. Turned out he was the type to hang out at gay bars. Okay. 

There was no way Eddie recognised Steve. He was being way too nice to him. Maybe Munson was a good guy. Steve hadn’t taken the time to find out back then. Steve hadn’t really been a good person. He was trying hard to be better.

“No one’s tried to push you into anything, right? Because that’s not what this place is about. I might not be able to kick anyone’s ass, but I know a guy who could,” Eddie commented, confirming Steve’s suspicions. He was a good guy. 

“No. I’m good... I’m looking for someone,” Steve breathed, hoping maybe Munson would’ve seen Robin. 

Then again, if Eddie hadn’t seen her, he’d be outing Robin, which Steve knew was a shitty thing to do. Eddie spoke before Steve had the chance to decide what he was going to say.

“You see him around?” Eddie asked, moving to sit beside Steve on the grass, scanning the crowd. 

Oh. Eddie assumed Steve was... That was fair. He was at ‘a spot’. He guessed he could work with that. 

“I think he stood me up,” Steve covered, looking for an excuse to get out of there. 

“His loss,” Eddie mused, placing a hand on Steve’s knee. Oh, no. Flirting. 

“I should get out of here,” Steve stuttered, jerking upwards.

“Right, shit. Sorry. Too strong,” Eddie spoke half to Steve, half to himself as he stood up and dusted grass from his jeans.  

“Don’t let me spook you. Seriously. You look like you need a night out. I can sit all the way over there and we can pretend this never happened,” Eddie proposed. 

Steve was dreading the ride back to Hawkins, knowing if he went home now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Steve surprised himself by shaking his head. 

“No, I don’t want you to... just... don’t go. This isn’t something I do. I could use the company.” Steve was surprised at the words as they left his mouth. In what world did Steve Harrington want to hang out with Eddie Munson?

“Alright, no funny business, I promise. I’ve got some beer in a cooler. We could keep things all PG-13,” Eddie proposed, leading Steve to where the aforementioned cooler was stashed on a free picnic bench. 

“I’ve got to drive back home, but I could stay for a bit,” Steve remarked, sitting down beside Eddie’s cooler on the tabletop. 

He tried to focus on the distant music and the sound of passing cars. His thoughts kept returning to Robin. He dug his thumbnail into the table, scratching at the splintering wood as he tried to stop his mind from reeling. 

“Is your place far from here?” Eddie questioned, sitting beside Steve and lounging back on his elbows, glancing up at the night sky. 

“That wasn’t a preposition, by the way,” Eddie clarified quickly. 

“I was just trying to make conversation. Christ, man. I’m shit at this.”

“Shit at what?” Steve questioned absentmindedly, glad to have a distraction. 

Eddie grabbed a strand of hair and coyly hid a smile behind it. 

“You know. Talking to pretty guys.’ 

It wasn’t like no one had called Steve ‘pretty’ before. They had. But they’d always done it as an insult. He’d heard the word, ‘pretty boy’, spat through gritted teeth a handful of times, but no one had ever made it sound like a good thing, like something Steve wanted to be. 

It was strange. Steve hadn’t been lying when he said this wasn’t something he usually did. He wasn’t gay. He didn’t hang out with men in a way that walked the tightrope between platonic and flirtatious, but he’d gone on a lot of dates with girls, some that’d been far worse than the way his night was panning out. Steve was surprised at just how comfortable and familiar the setting felt.  

“I’m from Hawkins,” Steve admitted, feeling Eddie’s keen eyes on his profile. 

“Small world. Me too.” Everyone knew everyone in Hawkin’s. It’d only be a matter of time before Eddie placed him. Then what? He couldn’t imagine Eddie would want to hang out with him for long after that. 

“I came here with a buddy but I’m pretty sure he’s screwed off by now, you mind giving me a lift? Think we could both use the company.” 

Steve was always driving the kids around, that’s what he was good at, and it’d be a distraction. Steve nodded before he could think any better of it. 

“I can do that. You say the word,” Steve muttered and followed Eddie’s eyes to the stars. 

“Soon, give me a few minutes to enjoy the view”. 

That was the one good thing about small towns in the dead of night. The stars could really shine, painting their way across the sky, all milk and moonbeams. For once, Steve wasn’t thinking of the things lurking in the shadows. 

He could hardly make out the features of Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t help but think, if this was like the dates he’d been on with girls, this was the point where he’d kiss them. It’d be romantic. At heart, Steve had always been a romantic.

A car pulled up close to the two boys, bathing them in yellowed light. Eddie’s face turned to look at Steve. His eyes swelled wide with recognition. He’d expected Eddie to be shocked, this was the last place Steve would expect to find himself on an ordinary day. What he didn’t anticipate was Eddie jerking back as though Steve had physically hit him, his body tumbling backwards off the bench and onto the grassy lot. 

“Holy Hell, Harrington,” Eddie choked out, as he tried to pull himself back to his feet, staggering. Right. Steve should’ve known this wasn’t going to end well. He should just leave now. 

“I thought your voice sounded familiar. Christ. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Here? Holy shit.” 

Steve stood, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to eyeball the best path to the Beamer, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there. 

“I’m going to go...” Steve began but was cut off by a wild flailing of limbs and Eddie’s hand encircling his wrist. 

“Sorry. Shit. Sorry. Steve, Stevie. Wait. You surprised me.” Eddie placated, his eyes swollen wide as he looked at his fingers around Steve’s limb. It was as though his body had grabbed Steve of its own volition. 

Steve couldn’t help but notice the muffled conversations from the surrounding tables had quietened. 

“I get it if you don’t want to take me home, but I won’t tell anyone... you know. Cross my heart, dude.” 

Steve hadn’t been worried about that until now. His heart rate sped up again. He wasn’t queer but if rumour got around. His dad would kill him. Steve wasn’t sure that the statement was hyperbolic. Eddie must have seen something in Steve’s face, because his grip on his wrist tightened. 

“Promise I won’t. Look, somehow I’ve managed to collect your little flock of ducklings into my D&D club at school. They think you’re a good dude. That’s good enough for me.” 

Steve trusted Eddie. He shouldn’t. He told himself he was dumb for doing so, but his instincts won out. 

“Well, come on then, if you still want a ride,” Steve grumbled, pulling Eddie along with him to the BMW. 

The two talked on the ride back to Hawkins, but all of it was inconsequential. It was just what Steve needed. Eddie rambled about the kids, something he and Steve had in common. It was the only thing Steve knew they had in common besides the fact Eddie thought they were gay, or at least that they both liked men. 

It should’ve been awkward talking to Eddie, knowing the guy would’ve slept with him if given the chance, but surprisingly it wasn’t. Maybe that’s how Robin had felt about him at the beginning of their friendship. No. Don’t think about Robin. She was safe. She had to be. Steve would know if she wasn’t. 

“What happened to you, Steve?” He heard Eddie ask out of the blue and realised his fingers had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone white. 

Steve didn’t know how to answer the question in a way that wouldn’t spur on deeper probing, so he said, “Nothing”. The reply seemed to tell Eddie everything he needed to know. 

“I guess I grew up,” Steve supplied lamely.

“I wasn’t talking about how you don’t hang out with the same dicks from school. You stopped doing that before you graduated. Don’t ask me how I know that. Don’t make me say it. You’ve always been pretty, is all I’ll say. This is different. You never used to look so... haunted.” 

What was Steve supposed to say to that? He didn’t say anything, just turned the radio up and wondered how Eddie Munson, of all people, saw right through him. 

When they pulled up out front of the Munson’s trailer, Eddie paused, looking Steve over. 

“Hey, Harrington? You still all on your lonesome in that big old mansion of yours?” Steve rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Well, would you look at that? Me too. I mean, minus the mansion. Want to not be alone, together?” 

“I’ve got work in the morning,” Steve deflected as he found himself switching off the car and following Eddie up to the front door. 

“Won’t bother me. I sleep like the dead.” 

Steve was a horrible sleeper, not that it would matter. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. Maybe in the morning if he couldn’t find Robin he should call Nancy. She knew everything about missing friends, about knowing something was wrong and yet feeling like you had no one to turn to. He wished he’d been that person for Nancy years before but he hadn’t and there was nothing he could do about that now. 

Steve found himself tucked into the corner of Eddie’s bed. The two boys had stripped off their jeans but kept their shirts on. He kept comparing the night to dates he’d had in the past. He kept thinking how easy it felt to do the same with a man. Steve liked women, he knew that, but he was beginning to entertain the idea he might be able to like men. Couple that crisis with his worries that Robin was somewhere alone and hurting and you had one messy knot of emotions Steve didn’t know how to unpick. 

“Night, Stevie,” Eddie muttered, as his hand made its way to rest on his inner thigh. His breath smelled of alcohol. 

“This okay?” He clarified. Yes, Eddie was a good guy and Steve wished he’d known that sooner. 

“Yeah,” Steve admitted because it was okay, much to his surprise.

When Eddie did eventually fall asleep, he rolled over, keeping one hand on Steve’s thigh and slinging the other over Steve’s chest, somehow ending face down in the crook of Steve’s neck. He smelled of beer and smoke. It was the longest night of Steve’s life. 

True to his word, Eddie remained sound asleep as Steve extracted himself from under him come morning. He paused to jot his number down on a notebook beside Eddie’s bed, surprising himself once again. He hadn’t gotten or wanted a second date with anyone in months. He wasn’t sure this was classified as a first date, but it had him wanting more of whatever it was. 

Steve parked outside Robin’s place, surprised to find her waiting for him in the driveway, unharmed and applying her makeup with the help of a compact mirror as though it were any other day. 

“You look like crap,” Robin noted as she slid into the passenger seat. 

Steve could cry. Steve would’ve cried if it hadn’t been for years worth of emotional repression. 

“You weren’t at work yesterday,” Steve said by way of explanation. 

“Yeah. I went to Indianapolis for my aunt’s birthday. I told you I was going last week.” 

Oh. Steve had forgotten. He nodded, then sniffed pathetically, pretty sure he was about to cry. Robin was fine. She’d never been in danger. She placed her hand over his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Dingus, were you worried about me?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. He shook his head, a blatant lie. 

“So worried you didn’t go on one of your crappy Saturday night dates or do you have another story to tell me about how you stuck out with a smoking hot babe... again.” That brought Steve to his second crisis. 

“Kind of.” Robin raised a brow.

“Kind of? Steve Harrington, since when are you coy about the people you date? Dude, when it comes to me you have no boundaries.” She was right. 

“I think I went on a date with a guy,” Steve admitted, not meeting Robin’s eye as she let out an inhuman squeak. 

“I was gone for one goddamn day and that’s the day you decide to date a guy?” She gasped, smacking his arm. 

In retrospect, it was pretty funny. Steve’s urge to cry was suddenly stifled as his body rocked with laughter. 

“I think I owe you one, actually,” Steve admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to hear the end of it. 

Read Part 2 Here

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Chains of Destiny - Eva (Ch.1)

Summary: X-men including Logan, are being sent to retrieve a young mutant woman from a experiment facility. However, not everything goes as planned.

Content Warning: mean Logan, like he's actually a jerk here. Hurt, pain, angst (hell a lot of it), mentions of torture, experiments, violence, mentiones of suicide/wanting to die,

Author's note: So I actually planned on this series for a while. Not gonna lie Deadpool and Wolverine gave me a bit of a push to finally publish this series. Keep in mind that this does not take place during Deadpool 3 timeline. This series will have lots of angst so brace yourselves and I really hope you will all love it the same way I love writing it ❤️

Word count: 8 326

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of technology from the giant monitor hanging on the wall. Around the long, metallic table sat the core members of the X-Men—Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Jean Grey, Hank McCoy, and Logan, who sat at the far end, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed as he stared at the screen.

Charles Xavier sat at the head of the table, his hands folded in front of him. The image on the screen showed a grainy surveillance feed from the inside of the lab they were about to raid. It was dark, but even through the low-quality footage, they could see her—Eva. Curled up in a glass cell, arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly ahead. Her small frame seemed fragile, but the readings from Cerebro painted a different picture entirely.

“She’s been in there for years,” Charles began, his voice calm and measured. “A captive, used as an experiment by a faction of scientists attempting to create new, enhanced mutants.”

Jean’s brow furrowed, her eyes full of concern. “They’ve been adding mutations to her, manipulating her DNA. That’s… unethical doesn’t even begin to describe it. How has she survived this long?”

“Barely,” Charles answered softly. “She’s had to endure unimaginable pain. Not just from the mutations, but from the emotional and psychological torment. One of her powers allows her to absorb the pain and injuries of others, healing them at her own expense. But it’s more than that. It’s not just physical. She absorbs their emotional damage too. She’s a living conduit for others’ suffering.”

Ororo closed her eyes for a moment, her voice thick with empathy. “No one should have to endure that. We have to help her.”

Scott nodded. “She’s a mutant, and she’s in danger. That makes it our responsibility to get her out of there.” 

Logan leaned forward in his chair, his face twisting into a scowl. “Hold on a second.” His voice was rough, laced with irritation. “You’ve read her file, Chuck. You know what she’s capable of. That kind of power? You really think it’s a good idea to bring her here? She’s a damn walking nuke. You touch her, and she’s in your head, messing with your emotions, maybe worse. That’s if she doesn’t blast you halfway across the room with her force repulsion or whatever the hell it is.”

Jean glanced at Logan, her brow creasing with concern. “She’s been through hell, Logan. She didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I get that,” Logan shot back, his voice sharp, “but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dangerous. You saw what happened in the last raid when we tried to bring in that mutant with the volatile powers. He almost brought the whole damn building down.”

“Eva isn’t a threat by choice,” Charles interjected, his tone steady, though there was a quiet firmness to it. “She’s been conditioned, pushed to her limits. The trauma she’s endured has caused her to lose control. But she is not beyond saving.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a growl rumbling low in his throat. “That’s the thing, though, ain’t it? Control. She’s got none. We storm that lab, and she could go off on us just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “and you know it. You’re askin’ us to walk into a situation where we don’t know if we’ll be able to handle her if she flips out.”

“Her powers make her volatile, yes,” Hank spoke up, his deep, thoughtful voice cutting through the tension. “But we’ve faced dangerous powers before. If we don’t act, she will continue to suffer. And from the looks of this lab, it’s only a matter of time before they push her to the breaking point. We have to try.”

“Try?” Logan scoffed. “What if trying gets us killed? Or worse—what if she turns into something none of us can handle?” 

Scott, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Logan. “We know the risks. But that doesn’t change our mission. We don’t abandon our own, especially not someone who’s been tortured like this.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this time we should think about it,” Logan muttered, his eyes narrowing. “She’s not one of us. Not yet. We don’t even know who she is.” 

“Logan.” Jean’s voice was soft but firm, a note of understanding in it. “You know better than anyone what it’s like to be taken and turned into something against your will.” 

Her words hung in the air like a weight, and for a moment, Logan’s scowl deepened. His hands clenched into fists, his claws threatening to extend. He hated being reminded of what had been done to him—of the experiments, the torture, the mind games that had turned him into a weapon. He’d spent years fighting to control the rage, to stop himself from becoming the monster they tried to make him. 

But this girl… she was different. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t hardened by battle, wasn’t tempered by a lifetime of violence. She was a raw nerve, and in Logan’s mind, that made her more dangerous than any enemy they’d faced.

“She’s not ready for this world,” Logan said, his voice lower now, but no less intense. “She’s not ready for what happens if she loses it. And we sure as hell ain’t ready for her.” 

Charles met Logan’s gaze evenly, unflinching. “I understand your hesitation, Logan. Truly. But this girl needs us. She’s been used and discarded, treated as nothing more than an experiment. If we don’t intervene, she’ll die in that lab. And if we leave her there, she may very well become the very thing you fear—a weapon. But if we bring her here, if we can reach her, she has a chance at something more. A chance to be more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

Logan grunted, looking away. He could feel the weight of the room’s eyes on him, but it didn’t change the knot of unease twisting in his gut. He didn’t trust this situation. Something about it felt wrong, and his instincts were screaming at him to walk away.

But the problem was, he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to turn his back, he couldn’t ignore the part of him that remembered what it was like to be the one trapped, the one without control.

Finally, after a long pause, Logan let out a rough sigh. “Fine. We go in, we get her out. But don’t expect me to play nice if she goes feral.”

Charles nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you, Logan. We’ll do everything we can to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

Logan stood up from his chair, cracking his neck as he moved toward the door. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t end up regrettin’ this.”

As Logan stalked out of the room, Ororo exchanged a glance with Scott, who sighed softly. “He’ll come around,” Scott said, though there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“He always does,” Jean murmured, watching the door where Logan had disappeared. “Eventually.”

Charles sat back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the image of Eva on the screen once again. Her small, frail figure was a stark contrast to the power that resided within her.

“She will need time,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “But I believe in her potential. She is more than what they’ve tried to make her.”

And with that, the plan was set. They were going to get Eva out of that lab. Whether or not she could ever be truly free from what had been done to her, though, was another question entirely.

*** 

They needed to act quickly. No one was here for now, but they didn’t when they would be back.

The sharp scent of antiseptic and cold metal filled the underground lab, the walls lined with sterile, reflective surfaces that amplified the clinical horror of the place. Logan led the way. His claws twitched within his knuckles, ready to spring at any moment. Behind him, Storm, Jean and Cyclops moved in silence, their eyes scanning the corridor for any threats. They had heard rumors of this lab—where scientists experimented on mutants—but nothing had prepared them for the twisted reality.

Then Logan's senses sharpened.

"She's close," he growled, his voice barely a whisper, yet thick with urgency.

The lab was dimly lit, sterile, and cold. The sharp scent of chemicals hung in the air, mixed with something darker—something that stank of pain and fear. The X-Men moved quietly, their boots silent against the sleek metal floors. 

“Chuck better be damn sure about this one,” he muttered under his breath, his fists clenched tight. “I ain’t buyin’ this ‘save the girl’ crap.”

Jean turned her head slightly, giving Logan a sharp look. “You know she didn’t choose this, Logan. She’s a victim.”

“Yeah? You tellin’ me she’s not dangerous?” Logan’s voice was a low growl, tinged with irritation. “Because I’ve seen plenty of ‘victims’ go off and take half a town with ‘em.”

“She’s a kid,” Storm cut in, her voice firm but calm. “She’s been tortured. She needs help.”

Logan rolled his eyes, his claws itching to come out. This whole mission felt wrong to him. Saving people? Fine. But saving a mutant who could, at any second, go berserk and tear them all apart? Not so fine.

“You’re all thinkin’ with your hearts,” he muttered, his tone harsh. “And that’s a good way to get us all killed. Just sayin’.”

Cyclops shot him a look, his jaw tightening. “We’re here to help her, Logan. If you can’t handle that, maybe you should’ve stayed at the mansion.”

Logan sneered, his lip curling. “Maybe I shoulda.”

But he didn’t. Despite every instinct telling him to turn around and walk away, he came along. Part of him didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way Charles had looked at him, that quiet conviction in his voice when he said, “She needs us, Logan.”

Logan had heard those words before. He’d been the one who needed saving once. And yeah, he’d been dangerous too. But it didn’t mean he had to like this mission—or trust this girl.

They rounded a corner and found a room that reeked of fear. Through a cracked glass wall, Logan saw her—huddled in the corner, shackled to a metal chair. Her appearance was fragile, like a broken bird too wounded to fly. Tangled hair fell over her face, and her body seemed emaciated, but the air around her pulsed with something dangerous. 

Logan’s stomach tightened as he looked at her. She was small, fragile-looking, her eyes hollow, like she hadn’t seen anything good in a long time. But that wasn’t what set him on edge. No, it was the raw power he could feel rolling off her in waves, even though the thick glass. She was a bomb. One wrong move, and she’d go off.

“Let’s get her out of there,” Cyclops said, moving toward the controls.

Logan bristled, stepping forward. “Wait. What’s the plan here, huh? We just let her loose, hope she’s all sunshine and rainbows?”

 “Logan,” Jean said, her voice steady, “we can calm her down. She’s scared. She’s not going to hurt us.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the last guy who thought he had a handle on a mutant with no control.” Logan’s voice was hard, his eyes narrowed. “That guy ended up in pieces.”

Cyclops sighed, clearly losing patience. “Logan, we didn’t come here to debate this. We came here to get her out. Stand aside.”

Logan didn’t move, his eyes locked on the girl. Something in his gut twisted, but he shoved it aside. “Fine,” he muttered. “But when this goes sideways, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

The glass door slid open with a low hiss, and for a moment, nothing happened. Eva didn’t move, didn’t even look up. She was still, like an animal caught in a trap, waiting for something worse to happen.

Jean stepped forward, her voice gentle. “Eva? We’re here to help you. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Logan snorted under his breath. Safe. Yeah, right.

Storm moved forward. "We’re here to help," she said gently, trying to project calm through her voice. Her hand moved to the console, disengaging the restraints that held the girl. The moment the locks clicked open, the girl lifted her head.

At first, Eva didn’t respond. But then her eyes flicked up, and Logan saw it—the fear, the confusion. And beneath it, a barely contained surge of raw, unchecked power..

Before anyone could say a word, Eva’s body tensed, and Logan’s instincts screamed at him. Something snapped inside her, a ripple of energy that exploded outward.

“Shit!” Logan barely had time to react before the force hit him, slamming into his chest like a freight train and sending him flying back into the wall with a grunt. The others were thrown back as well, but Jean managed to hold up a telekinetic shield just in time to soften the blow.

Logan hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him. His head spun as he pushed himself up, his vision blurry for a moment. “Goddamn it,” he snarled.

Cyclops struggled to his feet, his visor sparking. “Jean, calm her down, now!”

“I’m trying!” Jean said, her voice strained as she reached out mentally, but Eva’s panic was overwhelming. The raw emotions she absorbed from the team—fear, frustration, Logan’s anger—were feeding her powers, making them spiral out of control.

Logan gritted his teeth, claws snapping out instinctively. His healing factor allowed him to push through the pain, but it didn’t stop the girl’s attack. The forcefield around her shimmered, pulsating with her terror. She backed into a corner, eyes wide with an animalistic rage, and her breathing was ragged, panicked.

Logan got back on his feet, his body aching from the impact, but he was pissed now. “This is what I’m talkin’ about!” he growled, stalking forward, his claws gleaming. “You can’t control her!” 

Eva’s eyes darted wildly, her chest heaving as waves of energy pulsed off her, distorting the air around her. Her hands trembled, her face twisted in terror. She was completely out of control, her powers lashing out blindly.

"Stay back!" she screamed. "I don’t—don’t come near me!"

Logan pushed himself up, panting. "We’re not here to hurt ya, kid," he said, voice gruff but calmer than before, trying to anchor her in the chaos of her mind. But her eyes had already glazed over—she was lost to the overwhelming storm inside her.

“Eva!” Jean called, her voice soothing but desperate. “Please, you need to stop!” 

But it was no use. Eva couldn’t hear her over the roar of her own panic. 

Logan moved in, fast and low, dodging another pulse of energy that nearly sent him sprawling. His patience was shot, his temper flaring hot. He’d warned them. He’d told them this was a bad idea. And now this girl was about to bring the whole lab down on top of them. 

“Enough of this!” Logan snarled, charging at her with his claws raised. 

Eva’s eyes snapped to him, her panic morphing into raw fear, and without thinking, she thrust her hands out. A blast of energy hit Logan square in the chest, sending him flying back again, slamming into a steel pillar with a bone-rattling crash.

“Dammit!” Logan spat, coughing as he got back to his feet, his ribs screaming in protest. His vision blurred for a second, rage bubbling inside him. “I told you!” he shouted at Cyclops, who was trying to keep his balance. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Eva staggered back, her body trembling violently. She looked at Logan with wide, terrified eyes, realizing what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to. She didn’t want to hurt him. But the damage was done.

Logan’s gaze locked on hers, filled with fury and mistrust. “You’re gonna kill us all, kid,” he growled, his voice rough, dripping with venom.

“Logan, stop!” Jean shouted, stepping between them. “You’re making it worse!”

“Worse? You think it can get worse than this?” Logan barked, his eyes blazing with anger. “She’s a loose cannon, and you’re all actin’ like she’s some poor helpless kid. She’s not! She’s a damn weapon!” 

Eva’s breath hitched, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes. She wasn’t a weapon. She wasn’t a monster. But that’s all they saw, wasn’t it? That’s all she’d ever be to anyone. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“Yeah?” Logan’s voice was sharp, cutting into her like a knife. “Well, you did.” 

Before Eva could respond, Storm stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. “Logan, enough.” 

Logan’s scowl deepened, but he backed off, his claws retracting with a sharp snikt. He shot an angry glare at Eva, his eyes filled with mistrust. “If you can’t control yourself, you don’t belong out here.” 

Eva’s heart clenched, her body trembling as she took a step back. The pain in Logan’s words cut deeper than any wound. She didn’t want to be this way. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. But all she ever seemed to do was cause more pain.

A tidal wave of agony and fear threatened to consume her. Haunting recollections of torment, of relentless experimentation, surged through the maze of her mind. The harsh utterances of the man had become a ceaseless refrain since her arrival here. She was reduced to nothing more than an implement of warfare, forged for the benefit of others. Her emotions, her own inner turmoil, were inconsequential. She was bereft of care or compassion. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, a dam of pent-up emotion threatening to break. The potency of his words was such that it cleaved her to the quick, opening fresh wounds and exposing deeply buried insecurities in her already scarred heart. He needed to grasp the truth, he needed to comprehend the reality of her existence: she was no monster.  

Her presence here was not a matter of choice, but rather of necessity.

Without warning, she lunged at him. Her hand made contact with his arm, and suddenly, a flood of raw emotions poured into him. Fear. Pain. Desperation. The weight of all the suffering she had endured hit Logan like a punch to the gut. His mind reeled as her powers synced with his, letting him feel what she felt.  

The room distorted around him—her memories blurring into his thoughts. Logan saw flashes: needles piercing her skin, the cold, merciless faces of scientists, the endless nights spent in isolation. Every ounce of agony and torture she’d endured slammed into him, nearly buckling his knees. 

"Get out of my head!" Logan snarled, shaking her off. But it was too late—her power had taken hold, binding their emotions together like a knot. 

"Logan!" Cyclops shouted, firing a quick burst from his optic blast. The force knocked her back, but only momentarily. The girl screamed again, and this time her forcefield flared with blinding intensity, hurling them all across the room. 

Storm shot into the air, lightning crackling around her as she tried to contain the energy swirling around the girl. "We have to neutralize her, Logan—she can’t control it!" 

"I know!" he barked, struggling to regain his balance as another pulse of energy sent a chair crashing into the wall. His claws slid back into place. He could see it in the girl’s eyes—she wasn’t attacking them out of malice. It was terror. Pure, unbridled terror. But it didn’t matter. Right now, she was a threat. 

Logan moved toward her again, determined this time. "Listen, kid," he growled, "I know what they did to you. But we’re not them. You’ve gotta stop—" 

She didn’t. Her hand shot up, and suddenly Logan was on the floor, his ribs burning as her force slammed him again. But this time, before she could do more damage, a blinding streak of light shot through the air. Cyclops’ blast hit her square in the chest, knocking her unconscious. Her body crumpled, and the forcefield flickered out. 

The room fell silent. 

Logan dragged himself to his feet, clutching his side. "Dammit," he muttered under his breath, shaking the lingering disorientation from his head. 

Storm knelt beside the unconscious girl, her expression a mix of sympathy and concern. "She's just a kid, Logan," she whispered.

"Doesn't change what she can do," he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

Cyclops approached cautiously, his visor still glowing faintly. "We need to get her back to the mansion. Charles might be able to help her... stabilize."

Logan glanced at the girl’s fragile form, her face calm in sleep but haunted by the shadows of what she had been through. Something in him twisted. She was broken, just like him—but there was something more dangerous about her. Something darker.  

"Maybe," Logan grunted. But his eyes lingered on her longer than he intended. He couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how much they tried to help her, she was a ticking time bomb. And no one—not Charles, not the X-Men, not even himself—would be able to stop her if she went off again. 

Cyclops looked at Logan, as though sensing his unease. "You think we’re making a mistake?"

Logan snorted. "I don’t trust her." His gaze remained hard, unyielding. "And I don’t think she trusts us either." 

They gathered the girl carefully, carrying her out of the lab. But as they left the cold steel behind, Logan couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion in his gut. Something about her still clawed at his instincts. 

And Logan always trusted his instincts.

***

The X-Men team arrived back at the school in the early hours of the morning. The sky was still dark, the stars barely visible against the approaching dawn. The mansion loomed ahead, its windows softly illuminated by the interior lights.

Eva, awake already and restrained by the power-dampening cuffs, was guided through the front entrance. Her eyes were downcast, her steps slow and hesitant. She hasn’t talked much on their way back and no one was really in a talkative mood either. The only interaction Eva had was with Logan’s constant stare. 

The team moved with purpose but with an underlying tension. Logan walked alongside her, his jaw set and his eyes wary. 

As they reached the foyer, Charles Xavier awaited them in his wheelchair, his expression a mix of concern and resolve. He had been up all night, preparing for this moment. He wheeled forward to meet them, his gaze settling on Eva with a gentle, reassuring look.

“Welcome back,” Charles said softly, his voice warm. “I’m glad to see you’re all safe.” 

Logan, his eyes still fixed on Eva, grunted. “We got her here, but I’m telling you, this one’s a liability. Her powers are way out of control.” 

Charles nodded, his eyes never leaving Eva. “I understand your concerns, Logan. Eva, we’ll be taking you to the hospital wing for now. It’s important that we manage your powers and ensure everyone’s safety while we figure things out.”

Eva met Charles’s gaze briefly, her fear evident, but his kind eyes offered a small measure of comfort. She followed him and the team down the hall, her movements slow and cautious. 

As they approached the hospital wing, Charles turned to Logan, his expression thoughtful. “Logan, I know you’re worried. Her abilities are indeed formidable, and it’s natural to be concerned.” 

Logan’s brows furrowed, his frustration palpable. “Formidable? The girl almost killed me. She’s a risk, Charles. We don’t know what she’s capable of if she loses control again.” 

Charles placed a calming hand on Logan’s arm. “I understand. But she’s also a person who’s been through unimaginable suffering. We need to balance our caution with compassion. She’s scared and alone, and that’s why we need to approach this with care.” 

Logan shrugged off Charles’s hand, his gaze still dark. “Careful or not, we’re walking a tightrope here. One slip and we could all be in trouble.” 

Charles’s tone was firm yet soothing. “Yes, we are walking a tightrope. But remember, we have the means to help her, and we must give her a chance to prove that she can find control. We’ve faced dangers before, and we’ve come through. We will handle this situation with the same resolve.” 

Logan sighed heavily, his eyes narrowing. “Just keep her in check. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” 

“I will,” Charles said softly. “And we’ll do everything we can to ensure that doesn’t happen. But we also need to give Eva a chance to find her place here, just as we all had our own moments of struggle.” 

Logan’s gaze flickered to Eva, who was now being gently guided into the hospital wing by the staff. He didn’t say anything more, but the hardness in his eyes softened slightly.

Charles watched Eva as she was led to a bed, his concern evident. He turned back to Logan, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “Thank you for your vigilance, Logan. It’s what makes you a valuable member of this team. And it’s what will help us find the best path forward for Eva.” 

Logan nodded curtly, his expression still tense. “Yeah, well, let’s hope you’re right.” 

Charles watched him leave with a thoughtful look. He knew that Logan’s fears were not unfounded, but he also believed in the power of empathy and understanding. For now, his focus was on Eva, ensuring that she felt safe and supported as she began this new chapter in her life. 

As the door to the hospital wing closed behind him, Charles took a deep breath, preparing to meet the challenges ahead with the same determination and compassion he hoped to instill in everyone around him.

***

Logan stood at the threshold of the med bay, his silhouette casting a long shadow on the floor. The hum of machines monitoring Eva’s vitals filled the quiet, sterile air. She lay in one of the beds, hooked up to a dozen wires, her frail body looking even smaller against the white sheets. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, her face pale and sunken, with dark circles under her eyes. She looked fragile—broken, even—but Logan knew better than to trust appearances.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles white, his nails biting into his palms. Anger simmered just beneath the surface, bubbling up through his veins like molten steel, but it wasn’t the familiar kind of anger. It wasn’t the kind that came from a fight or from someone he hated. It was… different, raw and twisted, like a splinter lodged deep in his gut that he couldn’t pull out. 

Logan took a step forward, his boots heavy against the cold floor. His eyes never left the girl, even though something inside him told him to turn away, to leave. But he couldn’t. He had to face it—face her. 

“Why the hell am I still here?” he muttered under his breath, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth. He didn’t know why, but something kept pulling him back. Maybe it was that look in her eyes when she’d blasted him across the lab, that raw fear and regret that hit him like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t meant to hurt him—not really. But that didn’t change what she could do. 

*She’s dangerous,* Logan thought, his teeth grinding together. *Too dangerous.* 

The med bay door slid open with a soft hiss behind him, and Jean stepped in quietly. She glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, then back to Eva. 

“She’s stabilized.” Jean said softly, her voice careful, as if she knew how close Logan was to snapping. “Her body’s been through a lot, but she’ll recover. Physically, at least.”

“Physically, huh?” Logan’s voice was low, a harsh rasp that betrayed the turmoil inside him. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Jean sighed, stepping closer to him, her gaze flicking between him and the girl. “I know you’re angry, Logan.”

“Angry?!” He barked out a bitter laugh. “Hell, Jean, I’m beyond that.” His eyes locked onto Eva, who lay still and silent, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. “She almost tore me apart. If I didn’t have my healin’, I’d be lyin’ in pieces right now. And it ain’t just me. She’s got enough power in her to wipe out this whole school if she loses it again.” 

Jean’s voice softened, but there was a firmness underneath it. “She didn’t mean to hurt you, Logan. She was scared. She still is.”

“I don’t care what she meant to do,” Logan growled, taking a step closer to Eva’s bed, his fists clenched. “What matters is what she can do. She’s outta control, Jean. And you’re tellin’ me you’re okay with keepin’ her here? Around the kids? You really want to risk that?” 

Jean didn’t respond right away, her eyes lingering on Eva’s small, fragile form. “She’s still young, Logan. A young girl who’s been tortured, experimented on. She didn’t ask for any of this.” 

“And what happens when she can’t keep it together?” Logan shot back, his voice harsh, laced with anger. “What happens when she lashes out again? You think the kids are safe with her around?” 

Jean’s silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her voice gentle but firm. “Logan, I know you’re worried. We all are. But we can’t just give up on her.” 

Logan’s face twisted, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with an intensity that made even Jean flinch slightly. “Maybe we should,” he muttered, his voice low, dangerous. 

The words felt like poison on his tongue, but part of him believed them. He didn’t want to hate her—hell, he didn’t even know why he did—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that keeping her here was a mistake. A big one. It wasn’t just about what she’d done to him in that lab, or even what she was capable of. It was the feeling that clung to his skin like sweat whenever he looked at her—the feeling that she was a walking disaster waiting to happen. 

“Look, I get it, Jean,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, though still rough. “She’s a victim. But you can’t tell me that doesn’t make her more dangerous, not less. All that power, all that hurt… It’s a bad mix. She’s too damn powerful, and she’s got no control over it.” 

Jean opened her mouth to respond, but Logan cut her off. “You don’t get it,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “I can feel it. She’s unstable. You saw what she did without even tryin’. That’s the problem, Jean. She ain’t tryin’, and she still almost killed me. You really think it’ll be any different next time?” 

Jean’s eyes softened, but Logan could see the conflict in them. “She’s not beyond help. Charles thinks—” 

“Charles is a damn optimist,” Logan spat, shaking his head. “And maybe he’s wrong this time.” 

The room fell silent after that, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Jean didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree either. She just stood there, her hands folded in front of her, looking at Logan like she was waiting for something—waiting for him to let go of the anger that twisted his face into something hard and unrecognizable. 

But he couldn’t. 

Logan’s eyes drifted back to Eva, lying there so still, so helpless. His gut twisted again, that strange mix of guilt and fury gnawing at him. He hated her. He hated the situation. And he hated himself for feeling this way. But every time he tried to shake it, tried to tell himself she was just another lost kid who needed help, all he could see was the blast of power that had sent him flying, the fear and confusion in her eyes as she lost control. 

*Too dangerous,* he thought again, clenching his fists. 

His mind raced. He couldn’t figure out why his anger was so fierce, why his hatred for this girl seemed so personal. Maybe it was because he’d been there—maybe not the same way, but close enough. Maybe it was because her powers were so raw, so unchecked, like his claws before he learned how to control them. Or maybe it was because he saw a reflection of himself in her—what he could have been, what he was still afraid he could become. 

Whatever the reason, it didn’t change how he felt. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t hurt someone again, someone who wasn’t as tough to bounce back as he was. 

“She’s too powerful,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jean. “She doesn’t belong here.” 

Jean took a step closer, her hand resting gently on his arm. “She’s scared, Logan. Just like you were once.” 

He jerked his arm away, glaring at her. “Don’t. Don’t make this about me. This is about her. She’s dangerous, and you know it.” 

Jean didn’t flinch, though her voice softened. “And so were you, Logan. But we didn’t give up on you. And I won’t give up on her.” 

Logan let out a rough sigh, turning away from her, his eyes fixed on the door now. He couldn’t stand being in that room any longer. Not with her lying there, not with all the anger boiling up inside him. His heart felt too heavy, weighed down by everything he didn’t want to feel. 

“I’m tellin’ you, Jean,” he muttered as he moved toward the door, his voice hard again, “you’re makin’ a mistake. And when it all goes wrong, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

With that, he stormed out of the med bay, the door hissing shut behind him. But the knot of anger and guilt stayed with him, gnawing at his insides, refusing to let him go.

 ***

Eva's eyelids fluttered open to the soft hum of medical machinery and the muted light of early morning filtering through the blinds. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor and the occasional shuffle of footsteps outside. She blinked groggily, her mind struggling to piece together the events of the previous day.

The room was sterile and clinical, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh lab she’d known. Her wrists felt heavy, the power-dampening cuffs still securely fastened. As she shifted slightly, the soft rustle of the hospital bed linens reminded her of her vulnerable state. She winced, feeling the dull ache of yesterday’s emotional and physical turmoil.

She glanced around, trying to take in her surroundings. The walls were painted a soothing blue, and a small window offered a view of the gardens outside. It was a serene setting, but Eva felt anything but calm. The memories of her violent outburst and the fear in Logan's eyes replayed in her mind like a relentless loop.

Her breath quickened, and the panic spread. She tugged at the restraints, jerking her arms violently as she tried to free herself, but it was useless. The cuffs held firm, and with each tug, the fear inside her grew. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered what had almost happened—what she’d nearly done. 

"I could’ve killed them. I almost killed them." 

Her stomach twisted, and bile rose in her throat. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She never wanted to hurt anyone, but it didn’t matter anymore. She was too dangerous, too unstable, and the more they tried to help her, the more they were at risk. Everyone was in danger because of her. 

Her thoughts spiraled, faster and faster, and for a brief moment, she considered ripping her own wrists raw against the restraints, breaking free just to get as far away as possible. She couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong here. She shouldn’t even be alive. 

Her body shook as the realization hit her. She didn’t want to live like this anymore. Every breath felt like a burden, every second a threat to those around her. 

"Why didn’t they just let me die?" 

Before she could spiral further, the door to the hospital wing hissed open, and heavy footsteps echoed through the sterile room. She stiffened, her eyes darting toward the figure who entered. 

It was him. Logan. 

He crossed the room with that familiar roughness, his boots heavy on the tile floor. His face was hard, expression unreadable, but the tension in his jaw and the simmering anger in his eyes told her all she needed to know. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t trust her. And she couldn’t blame him. 

Logan stopped at the foot of her bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at her. "You awake, then?" His voice was gruff, biting, as if the mere sight of her irritated him. 

Eva didn’t respond at first, her eyes still wide with fear. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, the weight of the handcuffs pressing into her skin. Her throat tightened, but she managed to whisper, “Why… why am I still here?” 

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his lip curling slightly. "Good question. I’ve been askin’ myself the same thing." 

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill over, but she swallowed them down. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” 

Logan’s eyes flashed, and he took a step closer. “That’s the problem, kid. You didn’t mean to, but you did. Almost tore me apart, nearly killed everyone in that damn lab. Hell, if you’d gone all the way, this whole place could’ve been rubble by now.” His voice was low, dangerous, each word dripping with the frustration he was barely holding back.  

Eva’s chest tightened, guilt flooding her system. “I don’t know how to control it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it." 

Logan’s gaze didn’t soften. If anything, his eyes grew colder, harder. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You can’t control it. So why the hell should we trust you? Why should we risk the kids, the people in this school, just because you’re scared?” 

Tears finally spilled over, and Eva shook her head, feeling the weight of his words crush her. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be alive!” Her voice was desperate, her entire body trembling. “You’re right, okay? I’m a danger to everyone, and I know it. You should’ve let me die.” 

Logan’s face twitched, just for a second, and something flashed in his eyes—something almost like regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same hard, cold mask. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Maybe we should’ve.” 

His words hit her like a slap, and Eva turned her head away, unable to look at him anymore. Her chest heaved with sobs, the weight of everything pressing down on her until she couldn’t breathe. 

Just then, the door to the med bay slid open again, and Charles Xavier entered, his wheelchair moving silently across the floor. The tension in the room shifted, and Logan stepped back slightly, though his posture remained rigid.

Charles’s voice was soft, calming, as he approached the bed. “Eva,” he said gently, his eyes kind as he looked at her. “You’re safe now.” 

“Safe?” Eva’s voice was bitter, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “How can you say that? I almost killed him.” She nodded toward Logan. “I could’ve killed all of you. I’m not safe. Not for you, not for anyone.” 

Charles’s expression remained calm, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. “We understand that you’ve been through unimaginable pain. But you’re not beyond help, Eva. We can work with you, teach you how to control your powers. You don’t have to go through this alone.” 

But Eva shook her head violently, panic rising in her throat. “You don’t understand. They’re going to come for me. The people who did this to me, they’ll come back. And if I’m here, they’ll destroy everything in their way. You’ll all be in danger because of me. I—” Her voice broke, and she lowered her head, trembling. “Please… please just kill me. End it. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” 

Logan’s jaw clenched at her words, his anger bubbling up again. He wanted to snap at her, to tell her how selfish it was to think death was the answer, how ridiculous she sounded. But instead, he stood there, watching her break down, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of something else. Pity, maybe. Regret. He hated it, but it was there. Deep down.

For a moment, he saw himself in her—the same lost, broken thing, unsure of his place in the world. And it twisted something inside him.

Charles leaned forward, his tone soft but firm. “We don’t give up on anyone, Eva. You have a home here, if you choose to stay. We will help you, as long as you let us.” 

Eva shook her head again, tears streaming down her face. “I’m too dangerous. You’re making a mistake.” 

Logan exhaled sharply, stepping forward. “Maybe we are,” he growled, his voice cutting through the air. “But that’s not your call to make. You wanna give up? Fine. But Charles is right—we don’t give up on people here. So you’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not.”

His words hung in the air, and Eva stared at him through tear-filled eyes. She didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved, but all she felt was the crushing weight of guilt and fear. She wanted to believe they could help her, but deep down, she wasn’t sure anyone could.

And that terrified her most of all. 

Eva’s tears soaked into the hospital pillow, and for a moment, the room was thick with silence. She couldn’t shake the terror clawing at her chest. Charles’s kind words barely registered through the haze of guilt and fear. Every instinct screamed to get away, to run before she hurt someone again. But the restraints around her wrists, humming with the suppression of her powers, kept her pinned to the bed, a prisoner to her own body.

Logan stood by the door, arms crossed, his expression dark. He had always been a difficult person to read, but right now, his anger was crystal clear. He didn’t want her here. He’d made that painfully obvious. Part of her agreed with him. She was too dangerous. Even if Charles promised help, what could they really do? 

She had almost killed them. All of them. Logan, especially, and he wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon.

Logan broke the silence first, his voice sharp and cutting. "You think just 'cause we say we’ll help, that’s some kinda ticket outta responsibility? That you can just sit back and let us fix you? You’ve gotta want it. And I don’t think you do, kid."

Eva flinched at his words, her face contorting in pain. His anger wasn’t just justified—it was expected—but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. She turned her head away, unable to look at him.

"I don’t want anything," she whispered. "I just want to disappear."

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his frustration clearly boiling over. He took a step closer to the bed, his voice rising. "You think you’re the only one who’s been through hell? You think you’re special ’cause they did some experiments on you? Join the damn club." He jabbed his thumb at his own chest, his scowl deepening. "I’ve been there. I’ve done all that, and guess what? I didn’t get a choice. So don’t you stand there askin’ us to give up on you just ‘cause you’re scared."

His words were like a punch to the gut, and Eva’s tears flowed harder. She squeezed her eyes shut. She had been through hell, yes, but she didn’t have his strength. She couldn’t fight it the way he had. Her powers were out of control, and she was too weak, too broken to even try.

“I can’t control it,” she choked, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop it. You don’t understand. They built me to be a weapon. I’m a ticking time bomb, and sooner or later, I’ll explode again.���

Logan clenched his fists, his knuckles white as the words hit him. He hated how familiar it all sounded, hated how much of his own past he could hear in her voice. But he couldn’t let that soften him, not when the stakes were this high. Not when she could destroy everything they’d built here, everything they protected.

 “I get it, alright?” Logan growled. “You’re scared, and yeah, maybe you’ve been turned into a weapon, but that doesn’t mean you get to give up. You’re here now, and if you’re gonna stay, you better start fightin’ for somethin’ other than your damn self-pity.”

Eva trembled, her wrists pulling at the restraints as if she could somehow claw her way out of this nightmare. “I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to be anywhere. I should’ve died in that lab. It would’ve been better for everyone.”

Logan’s face tightened, a growl building in his throat. His anger, which had been simmering on the surface, was threatening to break loose. But before he could unleash another biting remark, Charles raised a hand, his voice calm but firm.

"Logan," Charles said gently, his gaze shifting from the girl to the man, “perhaps we should ease up.” 

Logan shot Charles a sharp look, but there was something in the Professor’s eyes that made him pause, though the tension in his body remained. He backed off a step, arms still crossed, but the scowl stayed firmly in place. His anger wasn’t gone—it was just barely contained. 

Charles turned his attention back to Eva, his voice soft and steady, the same calm she’d heard from him before. But this time, it pierced through her haze of fear just a little. 

"Eva," he began, "I understand why you’re afraid. I can’t pretend to know the extent of your pain, but I do know this: you are not alone. You are not the first person to feel like their powers are too much to bear, and you won’t be the last. This place, this school, is for people just like you." 

Eva shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. “You don’t get it. It’s not just me. The people who did this—they’ll come back for me. They’ll come for all of you. You’ll be in danger because of me.”

Charles’s expression didn’t waver. “We’ve faced threats before, Eva. But we believe in protecting those who cannot protect themselves. No one here will abandon you, no matter how great the risk.” 

“Maybe you should,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “Maybe it’d be better if you did.” 

Logan scoffed from the corner, his patience thinning. "Maybe she’s got a point. You’re gambling a lot on someone who’s not even sure she wants to be saved, Charles. She could bring this whole place down." 

Eva flinched again at his words, her heart aching with the weight of them. He was right. What was the point of trying to help her if she didn’t even know if she could be helped?

But Charles, as always, remained resolute. 

“I know the risks,” Charles said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. “But I also know that we must give her a chance. Eva, if you stay here, we will do everything in our power to help you gain control. You can have a life, a real life, outside of the torment they put you through.” 

Eva swallowed hard, her chest tight. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to, but the fear was too overwhelming. What if she couldn’t control it? What if Logan was right, and she was just too dangerous to be here? 

She shook her head, the tears never stopping. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s even possible.” 

Charles leaned closer, his eyes filled with the kind of kindness she hadn’t seen in a long time. “We will help you find out. But first, you must give yourself that chance.” 

Eva’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the Professor, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was offering her a lifeline, but could she trust herself to take it? 

Her eyes drifted to Logan, still standing with his arms crossed, his face hard. He looked at her like she was a threat, like she didn’t belong here. And maybe she didn’t. Maybe he was right.

But part of her wanted to fight. Just a small part, buried beneath all the pain and fear, but it was there, flickering weakly.

“I don’t… I don’t know how,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

Charles smiled gently. “You start by staying. By trusting us.” 

Logan scoffed again but said nothing, though his eyes bore into her, still filled with distrust. But for a fleeting second, something flickered in his gaze. Maybe it was pity, or maybe just the faintest trace of understanding. Either way, it didn’t last long, quickly replaced by the cold mask of doubt. 

Eva closed her eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn’t know if she could trust them—or herself. But for the first time in a long time, she had a choice. She could choose to run. Or she could choose to stay and try. 

It was the scariest choice she’d ever faced.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

I have two things to ask:

1.-Can we be friends?

2.-Do you have any Outsiders headcanons (or any that you haven't submitted yet)?

I mean sure?? Idk who you are since you’re on anon, so not REALLY, but I’m always down to talk!

2. Yeah lol- tons. Too many. Here’s a few (okay like 25 oops) off the top of my head lol, some serious/angsty and some lighthearted/kinda stupid without any real order. (Lotta ‘em are about Steve tbh -there’s so little to him in canon that I have the freedom to hc pretty much whatever I want)

Steve Randle’s nearsighted and has no idea, which is why he’s literally always squinting. (I’ve had that one for like months but only recently mentioned it on here lol.) Steve thinks his vision is completely normal

Dally and Sylvia genuinely cared for each other, but they were both so horrible at having healthy emotions that they just made each other worse. In a bad way, not a fun way.

When Steve gets kicked out, sometimes he hangs with Johnny in the lot. They don’t really talk about anything important like their shared experiences of having lousy parents. Instead they talk about cars, girls, music, school…lighthearted stuff. Sometimes Johnny will find Steve crying, which he never mentions- he’ll just sit down as per usual, which Steve appreciates. Steve almost never finds Johnny crying though. Johnny doesn’t cry much.

Okay tangent- I love how Steve and Johnny are low-key foils. Like Steve always seems tough but then cries when pushed to his limit, while Johnny always seems skittish until he’s under a bunch of pressure- in which case he suddenly is confident. (Not necessarily thriving obviously, but confident yk? Like grinning while saving those kids in the fire.) I know SE Hinton probably didn’t intend that at all, but it’s just such an interesting detail to me. One of these days I’ll put it into words better

Johnny’s jeans-jacket is a hand-me-down from either Steve or Two-Bit. (I can’t decide which lol) (obviously Dally would make sense too, but honestly I think it’d add more depth to flesh out Johnny’s relationships with the other members of the gang)

After the events of the book, Two-Bit starts hanging around the Curtis’s place even more. At first the gang assumes he’s trying to lighten the mood. It’s only after he gets sent to the cooler for a month due to drunk driving that they realize he was actually hanging around so much because he was trying to keep his kid sister from seeing him so drunk…

Two-Bit likes to joke that he keeps failing junior year so that him and his sister can graduate together. Which is a very bad idea since his sister is a year younger than Ponyboy.

Sodapop often feels like he’s only good for looking pretty and not all that useful or interesting otherwise. He likes himself, but when he stops to think about it too much, he starts to wonder if he really has anything going for him at all

My H/C for Steve’s home life is that his Mom is sick w/ like cancer or something. Before she got sick, Steve’s life was pretty alright for an eastsider- he and his dad fought, but they always made up for the most part. They weren’t perfect, but they loved each other. But after she got sick, she wasn’t there to mediate between Steve and his Dad anymore, and the fighting got worse and worse. And then Steve’s dad started drinking more and it was pretty downhill from there. Steve’s Dad still loves him, but sometimes Steve wishes that he didn’t. If he didn’t, then he could hate him. But his dad does love him, so he can’t get himself to.

Steve and Dally taught Johnny to drive when they were all like fourteen-fifteen-ish. Johnny is a very reckless driver. He loves speeding.

Johnny also loves fast roller coasters and stuff.

Dally doesn't ‘cuz he’s low-key scared of heights- he likes riding broncos and rodeos, but put him at the top of a roller coaster and he’s convinced that it’s gonna break and he’s gonna die. He pretends he doesn’t mind. The only people who know he’s scared of them are Johnny, and before she died, Mrs. Curtis.

Steve has a napoleon complex. Johnny, who is shorter than him by a few inches, likes to bully him for it sometimes

Ponyboy and Cherry don’t interact much in the school year after the book, but in the summer after, they start to hang out. Eventually they become pretty close. They fangirl over Paul Newman together

Ponyboy still doesn’t let Cherry read his theme though until years later

Marcia and Two-Bit re-meet a few months after the book. (Two-Bit is really scared that she’s embarrassed to be dating him, and Marcia is really scared that he’s embarrassed to be dating her. Neither of them are embarrassed. They both adore each other.)

Two-Bit likes to watch Marcia barrel racing. One time while he’s there, he runs into Ponyboy watching Cherry barrel race and immediately tells everyone much to Pony’s chagrin

Evie knows a little bit about cars, and she sometimes helps out at the DX during summers. Steve is so whipped for her lol (and Soda too Steve has two hands)

Evie and Sylvia are besties, but Steve and Sylvia hate each other. They act civil in front of Evie, but as soon as her back is turned they’re growling at each other like dogs. (Well Steve is. Sylvia just acts condescending as hell. Sometimes it goes over his head, so Steve knows she’s insulting him but isn’t sure what the insult is/means. Which makes Steve kinda want to kill her.)

Steve and Soda are low-key co-dependent. (Steve more so- Soda has his family at least, while to Steve, Soda and Evie are his whole world pretty much) It’s probably not super healthy, and both of them are vaguely aware of that, but are trying not to think about it too hard rn

Ponyboy’s friend group in high school consists of Curly Shepard, Mark Jennings, Scout Jenkins (from the tv show), and eventually, in her senior year, Cherry Valance. (There’s others too but those are the main ones.)

Pony dates Cathy Carlson for a while too, idk if they’re good for each other or not- I kinda like the idea of them being a sweet couple tbh, but no one else on here seems to care about them so I haven’t really explored the idea much lol

In a Dally lives au, Mark Jennings and Dally end up spending a bit of time together through Pony, and at some point they realize that they’re half-brothers lol. Mark is a deeply obnoxious little brother to have, and he drives Dally nuts on purpose. Weirdly I think Dally’s a relatively good influence on him, as much as someone like Dally can be. And Dally does care for Mark, though not as much as he cares for Johnny- Mark is, in his head, not exactly his responsibility.

Well I have (so many) more, but I think that’s enough for now lol. Point is, even though I haven’t drawn in a minute, I love these characters and their romanticized version of 1960s Tulsa so much and I think about them way too often lol

(dw once i get more into the swing of school I’ll be doin more art!)

[chaotic-starlight24]

Johnny Cade General Headcanons

Thank you guys so much for all the love on the previous headcanons! I have a lot of fun making these :) Now for the next group of them!

Warnings: Spoilers, Abuse

He is very nervous about just about everything but he is also the most brave person you will ever meet. Bravery is not doing things without fear, but in spite of it. So whenever the rest of the gang is too scared to try something he’s always the first one to step forward. Like one time Dally convinced the rest of them they should all try this zipline in town and once they got there everyone changed their mind. Even Dally (Man, I don’t think this is a smart idea…) But Johnny immediately offered to go first. Dally and Pony tried to convince him otherwise and he just shrugged and pulled a “Well, if I die I guess it’s meant to be.” He had a great time on the zipline and the rest of the gang went after him. (Dallas was shaking when he got off though)

He got his jean jacket when somebody lost theirs and another thought it was his. He was at a rodeo watching Dally and Soda when somebody came up to him. 

“Hey kid, what’s your name?”

“Uhh… Johnny?”

“Man kid, you seem like you thought I was here to kill ya or somethin! Anyways, found this jean jacket.”

“...Ok?”

“Well, if you're Johnny Cade I’m guessing this is yours. Your initials are written on the tag.”

“Um its no-”

Then the guy just walked off and Johnny ended up with a new jacket. Joey Castles didn’t need it anyways.

He has the most contagious smile you will ever see. It’s just so sweet and genuine that even Dallas can’t help but smile with him.

He doesn’t do great in school except for English and science. And he still isn’t amazing at those. English is the only class he pays attention in because thinking about the meanings behind stuff helps take his mind off of everything he's been through. The teacher loves his discussions he starts and wishes he would actually do his work because he would probably get an A. In science he just does the experiments. That’s all he enjoys in the class.

He’s actually not horrifying at hair styles (with my ocs he picked up on some stuff when he was hanging out with Tessa and Pony at Rosemary’s hair salon) but when he cut and bleached Pony’s hair it took everything in him to no grimace in front of Pony and call Rosemary about how to fix it. But he eventually convinced Pony that if they combed he would look fine. When Pony looked ok afterwards he made an audible sigh of relief.

One time he was sleeping in the lot and he woke up to a very large Newfoundland dog standing next to him. He screeched so loud it could be heard from Buck’s and ended up in a tree. At first he was convinced it was a bear coming to end him but eventually it just laid down below the tree. So he got down and just sat next to it. He decided to name him Bear and Bear now occasionally sleeps in the lot with him. He also will sometimes walk with Johnny around town.

When the gang first met Bear they all loved him. Except for Dally (he loves him now) who was jumpscared because he actually thought Johnny just brought a bear into the house.

He first met Sodapop in 2nd grade when he came to school with some bruises and Soda asked if he could help him. Johnny was ofc like “No! I’m fine! I’ve dealt with this before.” and Soda insisted, telling him that his mom had taught him how to help with pain. From then on Johnny stuck to Sodapop and basically lived at the Curtis house.

As I said in the Dallas headcanons before, he showed up in Tulsa while traversing America at the age of 13. And then slowly was integrated into the Curtis gang. Soda was very welcoming and so was Steve and Two-Bit but they were also kind of wary of him. They saw he was tougher than them, more cold, more mean. One day Johnny walked into the diner after Mrs. Curtis invited him and he just waltzed right up to Dally and started talking to him. And to everyone’s surprise they actually hit it off. Soon enough Dally became extremely protective of him and took the older brother role.

He has picked up a lot of things from Dally, including his unfiltered mouth. He is polite to soc girls and everything and doesn’t like whenever Dallas or any other greaser says some real dirty things about a random girl.He doesn’t care for dirty catcalls but he will just straight up start roasting people. And he’s good at it too!

He didn’t really like Sylvia. Mainly because he saw her and Dallas were just not a healthy relationship at all. They both tried in some aspects but their own (abusive) parents' relationships got into their way since it skewed their perspectives. So Johnny didn’t like to be there when they were together. (He sees a healthy relationship as Mr. and Mrs. Curtis)

If he had survived the fire he would be in a wheelchair and probably be one of the few to test out the new motorized ones. The hospital would learn very quickly that his parents were in no way going to be good caretakers and he would end up being adopted by a couple who lost their child. Their names are Eleanor and Russel and they love him very much. He would probably be a little less tense with them and the gang and put some more effort into school. But he will physically flinch whenever candles are lit and stuff so the gang and his new parents don’t use them very often. 

The gang knows he has a rather low self esteem (think he doesn’t deserve stuff, etc.) and he doesn’t usually accept gifts so they have to be sneaky for his birthday. Sometimes they just let him decide what they do that day, sometimes Dally just takes him out to eat and lets him get whatever, sometimes they give him stuff and insist that they just didn’t need it.

He really likes plants and flowers so sometimes he just takes a stroll through the town gardens or through the forest just to try and test himself on their names. If he survived him and Eleanor would have a garden full of ferns, flowers, and veggies. They would tend to it everyday and it was also another way for Johnny to build up his strength. Pony comes by every other day or so usually with a botany book and they figure out the different ways to make the plants stronger and stuff. Johnny especially likes the more strange plants. (Eleanor and him also name the veggie plants :)

He is very sensitive to physical affection and hates whenever people hug him or slap him on the back and all that stuff. He always freezes up. The gang knows this and tries their best to not intrude into his personal space (though he is a bit more comfortable with them). He is ok with it sometimes mainly when the gang asks him first. Then he’s ok with them leaning against him or messing up his hair. He just mainly hates it whenever people take him by surprise.

At first he was really weirded out by Mr. and Mrs. Curtis because he didn’t think your parents were supposed to be nice. But after a while he warmed up to them and especially looked up to Mr. Curtis. Mr. Curtis was actually the one to encourage his interest in plants. Johnny was reading a magazine in the general store Mr. Curtis was in charge of and started pointing out some of the really cool plants. Mr. Curtis knew a fair share about them and started teaching Johnny some of the basics he remembered from his childhood. (Mr. Curtis grew up on a homestead where his mom grew all sorts of stuff)

One more survival AU headcanon, Steve and Soda have modified parts of Johnny’s wheelchair to help him do more things. Like having a smaller motor for it that Steve engineered so that Johnny could also control it. Soda also helped create a wheel chair that Johnny could use in different terrains like while he works in the garden.

His mother is native american and his father is partially mexican. His mother was born in Arkansas and traveled into Oklahoma where she met his dad. His father was born and raised in a small town near Tulsa.

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

could you do please number 18 for the prompts you posted?

I absolutely love everything you write. I've even read a lot of your Star Wars fic and ive only actually seen a couple of the star wars movies 🤣🤣 you are just such a gifted writer!

i went a bit AWOL on this and it got away from me! i call this…jily-adjacent??? hope you don't mind, anon! x

from these prompts

“This is ridiculous.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re not enjoying this quality time as much as I am, Evans.”

Lily rolls her eyes, even though he can’t see her through the door. “You know,” she grunts, pulling the skirt up, and smoothing her top down over the hem, “most people opt to go out for a pint or something.” She appraises herself in the tall mirror, then swings open the door to the dressing room. “Just posing an alternative for the future.”

Sirius grins at her. “Don’t act like you didn’t love picking the outfit I’m likely to die in.” He motions for her to turn around and tugs at the skirt, clicking his teeth with the same disappointment he’s shown at the last several options.

She sighs and walks back over to the rack, grabbing the next choice: a midi-length black dress, with puffed sleeves that make her think of her great-grandmum.

“God, this is awful,” she says, pulling it off the hanger.

“In case you’ve forgotten, Evans,” Sirius says, taking the dress from her hands and holding it up in front of her, “you’ve removed ‘going out for a pint’ from the equation for us.” He pokes at her stomach as he turns to put the dress back up on the rack.

Lily smiles automatically at the reminder of what Sirius declared to be the ‘only good fucking news since fucking Hogwarts’ when she and James finally told him last week. She pops back behind the dressing room door, making quick work of the skirt and shirt ensemble, and pulls her own jumper and jeans back on. The jeans feel tighter today than usual, and she wonders if it’s because of the baby or if she’s just imagining things.

“Anyway,” Sirius says, from outside the dressing room, “maybe we should just try some Muggle shops. This place isn’t doing it for me anymore.”

Lily snorts as she pushes back through the doors, once again in her own clothes. “We’re going to the bloody Malfoys’,” she says, lowering her voice. “If we show up in Muggle clothes, we’ll be murdered in the entryway.”

“Excuse me,” Sirius says with a haughty sniff, flicking his hair over his shoulder, “but please don’t speak about my delightful family like that.”

The witch who offered to assist them earlier, before Sirius more or less told her to shut up and leave them alone glares at them from the desk, clearly annoyed that they’re still there and haven’t bought anything yet.

Lily turns back to watch Sirius as he pulls another dress from a nearby rack, frowning as if its existence has deeply offended him. “If the charms wear off and we end up looking like ourselves, who do you think they’re likely to kill first?” she asks.

“Still you,” he says with a regretful sigh. “It’s just such a shame you’ve committed the heinous crime of being born, Lily Potter.”

Sirius and Lily continue to scan the small shop for a dress that could work, but every time Lily finds something remotely bearable, Sirius shoots it down with a comment about the hemline being wrong for her body type or how the style is too 1977.

At Lily’s huff of frustration, Sirius shrugs. “If you just wanted someone to smile and say you look pretty, you should have brought James.”

“Yeah, because he’d love the reminder that we’re going on this mission without him.”

“I tried to get him instead of you,” Sirius reminds her. “Moody said Prongs doesn’t look as good in a dress. Something about the legs.”

“Just find me a dress, Black.”

“What shade of blond?” he asks, referring to the assortment of charms they’ve settled on for their disguises. “Platinum or more of—”

“Why does it matter?”

He affords her the same look of annoyance he’s reserved for the clothes up to this point in their outing. “It’s basic colour theory, Evans.”

She rolls her eyes, but replies, “Like a…honey colour?”

He nods and continues flicking through the hangers. “Speaking of Prongs,” he says, without looking at her—and they weren’t just speaking of him, so Lily knows whatever he’s about to say has been on his mind for a while.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got some orders.”

“Orders,” Lily echoes, lifting an eyebrow.

He still doesn’t turn to look at her. “If things go tits up, at the Malfoys’, you’re getting the fuck out of there.”

Lily frowns. “Not with—”

“No way, Evans. You’ve—” He turns around now and leans against the rack. “If you wanted to play the hero, you should have thought about that before you got yourself knocked up, alright?”

Lily's brows knit together, and a flicker of irritation sparks in her eyes. “Don’t be so—”

“Obviously, I’m buzzing about the baby! So is Prongs. He—well, Merlin, you don’t need me to tell you. You have to live with the git. But come on, Evans, you can’t be stupid anymore.”

“Stupid anymore?” she bites out. The witch at the desk glances up from her magazine again, but Lily doesn’t care. She steps closer to Sirius, dropping her voice dangerously low. “You and my husband can both fuck off with whatever that is. And I think it’s pretty rich that you and him, of all people, have devised a plan for me to be less stupid, when you two have a patent on the personality trait.”

Sirius laughs loudly, throwing her off kilter. He pats her cheek. “Never change, Evans.”

“What is wrong with you?” she demands.

“Don’t you think,” he says, watching her with a smirk, “that maybe there’s a reason you ended up with Prongs? That you ended up with all of us, really? That maybe it’s not because you even us out and curb our rebellious tendencies, but maybe—just maybe, you’re a little reckless and impulsive, and yeah, a little stupid, too?”

She sputters. “That’s not—”

“If you weren’t,” he continues, still grinning, “my telling you—a woman carrying a literal child in her uterus—to get the hell out of dodge when curses start flying at the Malfoys’ wouldn’t be so personally offensive. In fact,” he tilts his head, “it would probably just seem like common bloody sense.”

Lily opens her mouth to continue to argue with his ridiculous line of logic, but he holds up a hand to stop her as he pulls a deep purple dress from a rack. He holds it against her and smiles widely. 

“This is the one, Evans,” he says with certainty.

She examines it sceptically. “Are you sure? Isn’t it a little—”

He scoffs loudly. “Lily,” he groans with indignation. “Please buy this bloody dress. Your wedding dress was literally horrid and if you’d just asked me, you could have avoided—”

“Oh my God, okay!”

[lostcauses-noregrets]

what’s your opinion on Erwin’s selfishness? He certainly has selfish qualities that have pushed him in the direction of pursuing a dream his father held. Where I get confused, is that there are multiple times where he puts his life on the line (plan that involved being arrested by the MPs, yelling for the scouts to advance while his arm was bitten, running directly into titans with his regiment before his arm was bitten lol)

It seems he has martyr tendencies which makes it strange for him to only be a selfish character. Both Zackley and Pixis comment on how he is not willing to die/risk his life but I always saw him doing the opposite so I wondered if you could give me clarity lol

Hello Anon, I’m not sure if I can give you clarity, but I did answer another very similar ask a few years ago, you can read it here if you’re interested: Erwin’s “selfish” motivations.   

Selfish is not the first thing that springs to mind when I think of Erwin Smith, far from it.  Erwin is no more selfish than many of the other characters, who are all driven by their own motivations, and he is arguably much less selfish than some.  Looking at you Eren Yeager.  Like many of the misconceptions about Erwin’s character, this perception stems from the fact that he is such an unreliable narrator, who sees his own actions in absolutely the worst possible light.  Erwin sees himself as selfish as he believes he is the only one who is driven by his own dream, rather than the noble goal of saving humanity.

I’ve already written reams about why this not the case at all. All the characters are driven by their own dreams; for Armin it’s see the ocean, for Mikasa it’s keep Eren safe, for Eren it’s FREEDOM, whatever that means, for Jean it’s having a normal life with wife and kids, for Levi it’s save Erwin humanity. And besides all that, Erwin’s dream of proving his father’s theories right aligns squarely with saving humanity as this is how they uncover the truth of the world. 

I also don’t think Erwin’s courage can be in any doubt.  While he doesn’t hesitate to risk his soldier’s lives, he always leads from the front.  If anything, I agree with you that he has martyr tendencies.  He doesn’t hesitate to throw himself into danger if he believes it will bring them a step closer to victory.  We see this again and again throughout the story; when he saves Eren from the Armour Titan, during the Uprising Arc, and of course, during the fatal final charge in Shiganshina. 

Zackley and Pixis role in all this is interesting too.  I’ve answered several asks before about Zackley’s role in Erwin’s downfall, so excuse me if I just repeat what I said before. 

Zackley knew exactly how to exploit Erwin’s one weakness and his insinuations were the start of a downward spiral for Erwin.  Although it’s clear that Erwin’s “guilt” had been preying on his mind for a long time, it’s from that point on that he became more fatalistic and started to see his actions and motivations in the bleakest possible light.  The tragedy is that Erwin wasn’t a fraud or a cheat, he didn’t lie to his comrades and his friends.  He wasn’t any of the things he saw himself as.  He was just a man with a dream, as human and fallible as any other, and his dream was no less valid or worthy than anyone else’s.  Erwin is the most unreliable of unreliable narrators, but his saving grace was that when the burden of his misplaced guilt and grief became to great, Levi was there, as the last bastion of Erwin’s humanity, to lift that weight from his shoulders and set him back on the right path with a clear conscience. 

I’m less sure about Pixis, he has always struck me as a very ambivalent character.  I don’t think he ever really trusted Erwin because he sees him as such a gambler.  The point Pixis is making i chapter 63, is that he will always chose to follow the plan that will save the most people, whereas he believes that Erwin will follow his own plan, regardless of the loss of life.   I don’t think Pixis is actually accusing Erwin of being a coward who only wants to save his own skin. At least that’s how I interpret this.  I’d be interested to know how this has been translated. 

Sorry, I rambled a bit there, but I hope this answers your questions!

[theodorecanaryhood]

Gangster Paradise

Jason Todd x younger brother reader

Jason is a rapper with a biological younger brother

(Note, Jason didn’t die in this story)

Warnings: some swearing

Being a kid is the best thing if in the right environment, Jason wasn’t one of the lucky ones.

Luckily, he was adopted by Bruce Wayne in good time. Becoming Robin was a good thing for him, Jason felt like he could let all the anger out.

Jason was a teenager when he found out Willis Todd, his father, had another son. Jason panicked as he didn’t want you to have the same upbringing as him, Jason fought to get you out of that house.

The social worker said that Foster care was the best thing for you, Jason agreed, but only if his adoptive father would do it.

Seemed unusual, but not unheard of, Jason had become a big brother. You were Jason’s light as he carried you through the street on his shoulders.

Jason held onto your little hands as he walked gently with you, smiling brightly as you chuckled.

‘Jay Jay’ you said, babbling as Jason choked up, he was your first word.

Once Jason turned 18 he was legally an adult, he wanted custody of you now that he could be a legal guardian.

Jason did it all himself and at such a young age, he’d heard that Bruce started fostering a young boy named Tim, dropping in occasionally to check in on his dad. By this point Dick had moved away.

‘Ready for school?’ Jason asked you as you cleaned up your bowl, finishing your cereal.

‘Yeah’ Jason smiled, ruffling your hair, as he handed you your school bag.

Jason enjoyed his role as the big brother, the school runs and working while you were at school. Rent and bills were tough, but thankfully Jason got an allowance from Bruce that helped.

Parent teacher conferences were tricky as some of the teachers always asked to speak to your parents, to which you politely reminded Jason was your guardian.

The smile on Jason’s face when he saw how well you were doing, better than he did without the distractions.

‘That’s your older brother?’ One of your friends remarked, now a little older as you nodded.

‘Damn’ she remarked as she took him in, you cringed your face as Jason came and hugged you, picking you up at the gates.

It was summer, the hot air filled as Jason walked in just torn jeans and a tank top, his muscles and tattoos on show.

‘Everyone is staring Jay’ you commented as Jason saw some of the teenaged girls looking.

‘Please ladies, I’m old enough to be your dads’ Jason called out, laughing as you buried your face.

Typical teenage attitude and finding Jason embarrassing. The drive home was fine, Jason played his new single for you, getting your approval.

Jason was always a musical guy, he had a passion and he wanted to experiment with how far he could go. Not thinking he would get the chance to make actual music. Making it into the music industry.

Your teenage years were similar to most as your body began changing, you experienced the normal cycle of emotions and everything else that follows.

However, Jason noticed there was something different about you lately. You weren’t just moody, you were secretive and it concerned Jason. The two of you were close, you shared almost everything.

‘He’s allowed to have some secrets’ Bruce commented, typing away on the bat computer, Jason nodding.

‘I know, but this is different B, he seems different’

‘Teenagers are different to toddlers’ Bruce finished as Jason agreed.

Thinking he would just have to try and talk to you, hoping you would open up.

‘I want us to chat bud, something is happening y/n. You seem different’ Jason admitted to you, you played with the food on your plate a little.

You sighed as Jason looked into your eyes, you knew you would have to open up eventually. You trust Jason with your life, you love him. You’re certain he loves you too.

A man doesn’t agree to drop everything to raise his baby brother, not without feeling love.

‘You can talk to me about anything y/n’ Jason said as he stroked your pinky with his finger a little.

‘You sure?’ You asked, hesitating as Jason nodded with a smile.

‘Of course, you can tell me anything’ Jason insisted, not breaking eye contact with you.

‘Jason, I’m gay’ you admitted, searching Jason’s face for a reaction.

He didn’t speak for a few seconds until he cleared his throat, his eyes burying into yours.

‘You sure?’ Jason asked for reassurance, you nodded as Jason rose to his feet.

‘Stand up’ he said, his face not giving anything away, you stood up as Jason took a step towards you.

Jason’s arms wrapped around you as he held you in a bear hug, your face resting on his shoulder, Jason gave you a small pat on the back. His big frame engulfed your small one, a time passing of the sibling love.

‘I love you no matter what’ Jason said in your ear as you nodded.

‘Love you too’ you smiled, the two of you pulled away from the hug.

A couple years had gone by since Jason began making a name in the streets of Gotham, and not just as a rap artist, but as the bad Red Hood.

Jason would never let you join his team as he wanted nothing more than to keep you safe. Jason would die before he let anything happen to you.

Jason stood on stage as he performed in his latest tour, you in the front row. Smiling bright as you watched your older brother proudly.

Jason came over and gave you a quick hug as he walked through the audience, the audience cheering loudly.

‘My little brother’s here’ Jason announced into mic, smiling as he pointed over at you.

Jason smiled proudly as he finally got you to agree to be in his music video, he had you just do poses for the camera, walking through the streets with his dog.

The track played in the background, Jason lip synced as you gave your all for the first time. Jason would’ve called you a pro, but he was biased.

You grew some popularity with appearing in Jason’s music video, Jason of course wanted you to do more with him.

‘So, this is where the magic happens. Nothing too big, we’ll just have you sit and fill in some of the backing vocals’ Jason said, handing you the headphones.

Jason was smiling as he watched you singing in the recording booth, doing some backing vocals.

‘You ever thought about doing a single?’ Jason asked you as he walked with you to get some lunch.

You laughed a little as you showed a shy side, Jason was serious and thought maybe you could do some singing in your own.

‘Oh you’re not joking?’ You replied, Jason chuckled.

It was a shy moment as you stepped out of your comfort zone. You sang a melody as Jason smiled proudly watching.

‘Shit, he’s good’ Jason mumbled to himself. You came out of the booth, a small smile on your face.

It had been a year and Jason was getting you in his record label, he wanted you to be a solo artist like him. He wanted you to do your own thing.

You found a new passion for this line of work, it was all you ever thought about.

It wasn’t long before you and Jason were on stage together, performing together.

Jason featured you in his videos more, you did the same for him.

Jason was up for a music award, you were cheering the loudest when Jason won his award, walking up the steps as he was handed the trophy.

‘This is amazing, thank you guys so much, really, thank you. I want to thank my baby brother y/n more as he is such a supportive person, the best person I know. Love you bro, thank you all’ Jason spoke into the mic.

The stages lights hit different tonight as Jason began his latest tour. He had this flood of memories, seeing how tiny you were to who you are now.

There was always this speculation, or stereotype that Jason is this hard guy. Tattoos everywhere, even a couple on his face, however, he really is just a big child. He loves so hard and is a different person when with you or others he’s close to.

Your biggest hero is Jason, along with him being your role model. The teenager who dropped everything to raise you, to a man who gave you his mantle.

[ceruleanwhore]

So I’ve seen a lot of headcanons and fics floating around the Cybird/Ikemen fandom spaces about pregnancy or having children, but I have yet to see any childfree content at all, as @sevenai pointed out in a post they made about ikevamp. As such, I’ve put together a list of childfree headcanons for all the ikevamp men for those of us who want such things.

Napoleon — After the tragedy of his only legitimate son’s premature death during his life, I think it’s perfectly plausible that he would not want to try to produce another child of his own. Besides, the children he teaches with Isaac do more than enough to fill the void and warm his heart. I imagine that, at some point, the topic of children would come up and, when his partner would nervously disclose that she doesn’t actually want to have any of their own, he would feel relief.

Leo — Being in a relationship with anyone at all (especially a human) is already more than enough heartbreak, I don’t think he could handle producing a child of his own that he would then have to watch die someday even though no parent should ever outlive their child.

Mozart — This man is obsessive about cleanliness and absolutely cannot tolerate noise. There’s no way in hell he’s ever having a kid.

Arthur — He had five children in his life and so I feel like, for him, he’s already done that and sufficiently fulfilled that desire, so now he doesn’t feel the need to do it over again in this second life. I think he’d be willing to give it a go if that’s what his partner wanted, but I also think he’d be just as content not to.

Vincent — I get that in ikevamp he’s a sweet boy, but he has a past full of tremendous mental health struggles, and I think he’d be afraid of passing that to any potential children. I also think he would be worried about his ability to care for a child.

Isaac — Dude’s already worried he’s going to snack on Comte’s ferret or something, like being in a relationship with a human is PLENTY for him to worry about. Also, he’s a good person who views himself as a dangerous monster, which means he definitely won’t be having kids any time soon. Plus, like Napoleon, he has their little gaggle that they teach and that is genuinely plenty for him. Yeah, I think he’d be perfectly happy to have his partner tell him that there is no desire for children on their part.

Theo — I think he’d be more apathetic about children, where he doesn’t really have a desire for them but he would be willing to have kids if that’s what his partner wanted. He already has his partner, his bother, and his career, and that is more than enough for him to be happy.

Jean — First off, Jean is 19. Secondly, he hates himself and what he is, like Carlisle from Twilight. Maybe he would’ve wanted kids in life, but there is no way in hell he’d want to create half vampire spawn.

Will — Given that he was always running away from his wife and kids in his life, I think it’s safe to assume he never wanted them, even before he died. I think, given the context of his real marriage with Anne, he would be grateful to discover that his partner doesn’t want to have kids with him and it would be another indicator to him that this relationship is actually a good match.

Comte — I think he has no desire of his own for children and I also think he is hella devoted to whoever he chooses to be in a relationship with and will do anything to make them happy, so even if he did want kids he still would 100% fold to a childfree partner. There’s also that element of tragedy like with Leonardo that we’ll also see with Vlad.

Dazai — He’s either actively suicidal or very recently got better and definitely does not feel like he has the capacity to care for a child. Also, someone who hates themselves so much they’d choose to become a vampire solely so they could live long enough to kill their infant self is definitely not going to want to reproduce. Like Isaac, he sees himself as dangerous and I don’t think he would trust himself with something like having kids and I think that being in a relationship is already massively stressful for him.

Sebastian — He has a terminal illness, so there could be concern about passing whatever it is to any future children. He also probably would just not want to have to subject children to dealing with his inevitable, premature death. Even without all that, like if he can get magically cured by Faust or something, I don’t really see him actively wanting to have children, like I think he’d be more of a “travel the world with your partner in a delightfully comfortable DINK arrangement” kind of guy.

Vlad  — Yeah I think he’d 100% just be a “whatever you want” guy who values his partner above all else, including potential people who don’t exist yet.

Faust  — He’s kinda weird with kids tbh in a way that reminds me of myself — uncomfortable but kind of nice and gives in easily to whatever they want — which makes me think he doesn’t really like them and doesn’t really want them. I could see him kind of wanting to reproduce with a human as an experiment, but I really don’t see him genuinely desiring to have children.

Charles  — I get the vibe that he’ll be a very possessive yandere once he’s in a relationship and won’t want to share his partner with anyone at all, including potential children of their own. He actually gives me the impression that even if his partner came to him and shared that they genuinely wanted to have children with him, he might insist they not because of this trait of his.

[joelsfavouritegirl]

May i request some... dirty hc's 🙈

Also, there is not enough fic about pixel joel :( When did you start getting into tlou?

oh em gee yes absolutely!!! i’ve been thinking about writing some nsfw hcs but js haven’t done it yet😭😭 also i’m so happy that people are actually sending requests, please do i’ll be happy to write whatever ya’ll want

and i completely agree that pixel joel has been neglected since the show came out:(( i randomly started playing pt1 during the summer of 2022, completely fell in love with it and have been a fan ever since<33

i hope i did some justice with this, not sure how it turned out but fingers crossed yk, ty again for the request<333 ok enough rambling

here are some more pre-outbreak!joel headcanons (but this time they’re 18+)

. ladies man through and fucking through, i’ll die on this hill if need be

. let’s be honest when ya’ll started dating you most probably ended up at one of each other’s houses after the third/fourth date. joel was dropping you off, being all gentlemanly and sweet as he is and what harm could a little kiss do right? one thing leads to another and he’s got you against the wall of the entrance hallway, hands lifting up your sundress as his fingers steadily pump in and out of your cunt (along with his tongue that slides across your swollen clit) and by the end of the night you’re both sweaty and panting on your bed when he slips out of you, pressing more sweet kisses to your lips

. i’d say young joel is kinkier and probably has a higher sex drive than post-outbreak!joel. just say the word and he’s down, whether it’s a quickie or if he can take his time with you, unless he’s tired after a long day at work which is when you’ll end up in between his legs on the floor in front of the couch sucking him off until he’s coming down your throat and grunting how you look “fuckin’ gorgeous with my cock in your mouth, baby” and “atta girl, just like that”

. doesn’t understand guys who don’t like eating pussy. what the fuck do you mean you don’t like eating your girl out??? joel would die a happy fuckin man in between your legs if he could, man can go to town for as long as you need (or as long as he wants to). loves seeing how you squirm and the little sounds you make when he’s making you feel good. he’ll have made you come three times when he looks up at you as you whine about how it’s too much. “c’mon sweets, you can give me one more, i know you can, hm?” he hums against your clit, his fingers knuckles deep inside your cunt as he curls them at that spot that makes you moan and tug on his hair. he just smiles, flattening his palm against your stomach to stop you from moving too much, “that’s my girl”

. loves seeing you suck him off. y’know what gets him coming in a few minutes? seeing your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, your hands pumping the parts of him your mouth can’t reach and those goddamned doe eyes you give him as you blink through your eyelashes. it makes him lose the little self-respect he has and whimper as he’s coming down your throat

. apart from eating you out this man lives for thigh riding. loves holding your hips or waist as you rut against his jean-clad thigh, your head leaning into the crook of his neck as you whimper how you’re about to come. after you calm down he’ll usually curl one large hand around your hip and the squeeze the flesh of your thigh with the other, rocking you against his leg again and pressing sweet kisses to the side of your head. “that’s my good girl. made a fucking mess all over my pants. you wanna go again, pretty thing?”

i need to be sedated (or fucked by this man) thank u good night<33

[greenroom2015]

So people talk about how Harry and Kim’s t4t relationship is important for both of them and that’s awesome! But I also think that the only way that Harry could ever meaningfully move forward in her development as a trans woman and a feminist is by having an important relationship with another trans woman.

Like, the in-game interaction Harry has with another heavily trans woman-coded character is with Klaasje, right? And it’s the first time that she feels that frisson of recognition, the do-I-want-to-fuck-her-or-be-her, but there’s no way for them to have an actual relationship. It’s no accident, I think, that her hair is the same color as Dora’s; like Dora/Dolores, Klaasje figures in Harry’s cosmology as a star to follow. And, like Dora, Klaasje is someone that Harry can never be cool to because she’s not a new person. The way they meet is as a trans woman in a precarious legal state and a male cop. There’s no way Klaasje doesn’t feel it too— there’s this clear vibe between them that Klaasje herself seems surprised by, and then there’s the infamous Half-Light dialogue about how Harry “know[s] how it is,” but Klaasje is closing herself off to it; she can’t risk it, making herself vulnerable to someone who is likely to hurt her, who has the power to hurt her very badly, and whose own gender shit is the opposite of a guarantee against that harm. And she’s right to! It’s no trans woman’s responsibility to mother a baby trans through this kind of helplessness in the first place, let alone at such risk to her own person. It’s even in the text that Harry is dangerously close to threatening her with the law or hurling violently misogynistic language at her and that choosing not to goes against every RCM protocol, every patriarchal protocol, even her own tired set of misogynist behaviors, because like a lot of rotten eggs Harry did some really fucked up shit while she was doing conversion therapy on herself and old habits die hard. Learning and growing, getting right with the world by living out a feminist politic, is what the game overtly frames as a crucial element of what a second chance in the existing world looks like. But, it cautions, you can’t make real live women into your arena for growth. Klaasje and Harry part ways, and that’s the way it should be. There’s no other way that could go.

But, well. You know how it is. Self-criticism is important and the only way to grow, the game has a proper grasp on the Marxist theory of knowledge in this way, but it’s also astute in its presentation of Harry’s Sorry Cop tendencies. Through Jean, through Dora, we learn that Harry has apologized over and over pre-amnesia and it never meaningfully changed anything. Succumbing to a deluge of self-loathing isn’t the same as ruthless self-critique because if you’re critiquing yourself you’re expecting to grow from it, not to shrink or die. And just as in our world it’s so, so easy to turn trans women’s guilt and shame over “male socialization” into a cudgel to get them to self-police and become more open to manipulation and abuse, Harry would be so easily convinced that apologizing for just being herself is the only way to make the, well, everything about her remotely okay. She would hate herself for desiring Klaasje, for desiring women generally, for the awful things she did in her past, for the way she looks, for things she thinks are her fault and were in fact things that were done to her, and thus her underlying semiconscious assumption would be that she doesn’t really deserve womanhood or solidarity or intimacy with other working women. 

It’s true that Kim’s presence in her life will be very important in helping her learn to love her body and be less afraid of that part of herself, but stopping there misses something very crucial: if the only person in Harry’s life who validates her gender is a man, especially one who is her boyfriend, that’s not a good thing! The trans women I know who are the most secure and confident in themselves are those who have important relationships with other trans women; woman cannot live on het t4t alone. My ideal candidate for this woman is someone who lives on the other side of the fence from Harry, who had some bad experiences with men in her past and copes by semi-consciously viewing herself as a cis lesbian who’s adjacent to a lot of trans people, and with whom Harry can simultaneously start healing (and have hot lesbian sex ofc). One day maybe I’ll fully flesh out this OC and write a fic but for now this text post will have to do.

[wishchip106]

watching dark pheonix rn live commentary

charles hair looks wacky af girl get a fringe cover the forehead or something

he’s signing the adoption papers thats his daughter 😿

it said it was 1975 this does NOT look like the same school from dofp 🤨

WHERE DID ALL THE TREES GO???

ok now we’re in space huzzah 1992

uh oh the rocket broken

HE’S BALD

he got the president on speed dial damn

RAVEN WHAT IS THAT HAIR COLOR fuckass bob

no one getting that basketball back damn

nyoom

charles really needs to get side rails in cerebro other people go in there too they gonna fall off

he connected to nasa

yikes ominous space dust ☹️

raven is literally the leader of the x-men

ITS THAT WOMANS FAULT FOR MENTIONING THE CAPTAIN

how tf is jean breathing??? 🤨

that blast should’ve killed BUT ALSO HOW IS SHE CASUALLY FLOATING IN SPACE??

that part of the pheonix force or something?

the xmen got fans thats crazy 🤨

charles keeps canceling classes does anyone actually learn in this school?

RAVEN UR THE ONE WHO STARTED THE XMEN

“i actually can’t remember the last time you were risking something” saying that to the man who is bald and in a wheelchair???

idk whether this is bias or not but honestly charles doing stuff with the press and getting people to like mutants and the xmen is a good thing???

i get raven is upset about risking their lives and such but its honestly that or being persecuted and hunted down daily 🤨🤨

pissing me off

dinner party wowie

intro to the most forgettable xmen villian ever

fucking tree aliens what the flip

oh damn his chest constricted

dazzler!!! 🤯🤯🤯

jean thirsty damn

why is raven hiding still i thought mutant and proud meant something

raven if ur upset go to genosha or something

charles is besties with the president lol

jean needs to get a new skincare routine her skin cracking

charles dad senses starting tingling (despite being a shitty dad 👀)

does no one else get that if charles didn’t put shields in place in jeans mind a lot more people would be dead??? like obviously he could have slowly taken them down over time but still 🤨

one of the writers might have beef with charles

jean going after her deadbeat dad but she doesn’t know that

they planning to manipulate her

yikes flashbang

how tf jean get there so fast

knock knock its me ur estranged daughter

bro does not look happy to see her

raven clearly has beef with charles

this a “lets all blame charles” movie

struggling forreal i’m defending him every five minutes

jean realizing her dads a deadbeat blaming her for her moms death damn

if he had to pick between saving his wife or jean he would pick his wife

charles wearing his ex’s clothes 🤨

scott being like “i love you pookie dont leave me 🥺”

the girls fighting

raven being the one who steps up

ah shit she dead ☹️

jean really flew outta there

sad moment r.i.p raven

hank is angry

“is it true? jean killed her? 🤓” BRO SHE JUST DIED SHOW SOME RESPECT

girl going straight to the alcohol, some habits dont die

“its your fault she’s dead” BITCH THAT WAS HIS SISTER

you cant expect charles to admit when he’s wrong thats what he and his ex-husband have in common

“no civilians past this-“ ”fbi” “oh okay” can anyone just do that? walk up to a crime scene and say you’re fbi

bro killed him

GENOSHA

jean going to her stepdads house

ERIK HELLO

bro why he fly like that 🧍

did he really make his furniture really low down 🤨

waiting for his husband

wouldve been better if he had white hair 😔

damn military

jean in a killing mood

magneto saving human lives 🤨 never thought i’d see the day

bro looks so stupid oh damn he was flung

“i am protecting them, from you” DAMN no one wants to help her

the president revoked his bestie privileges after one incident

charles struggling

girl are you drinking age 🤨 i sure hope so i’m a rule follower

yes who are you jean

OH DAMN DIDNT NEED TO GO THERE

heheh charles sleepin

biggass binoculars

“what? no charles?” girl i think ur a tad bit obsessed

he yaps about him to anyone who listens

his bestie dead oh no 🙁 give him a sec

welp time to kill her that’s totally what raven would’ve wanted

damn those aliens got a nice place what the heck

woahh space and shit oh wow the milky way

the aliens were lurking

she is special yeah

she lying girl don’t listen she gonna kill you (although that wont really stop you)

whats this bald lady’s name?

i wanna see all the other stuff erik keeps in that box

i can see charles actually descending into depression this is crazy

lol they all putting him in place give him a break 😢

boutta reconnect with my ex wish me luck 🤩

erik trying to act cool in front of his friends

woah f bomb

charles im gonna kill ur daughter sorry not sorry 😁

hair whip

“ur not the only one who can control minds 😏”

girl this is the worlds most powerful telepath maybe think about this for a second

the girls fighting again

bitch pulled a train out of the ground tf did you need that for???

making a grand entrance

damn getting his skull crushed like the first people he ever killed

he got throw out the window ☹️

yeah girl thats ur dad

NAH WHY DID THEY DO THIS

MAKING THE DISABLED MAN WALK WTF

that alien really got her claws in her

yes please see that charles still loves you (AS A DAD)

thats her dad 😿

i hate this alien ur ruining the moment

no don’t give it to her ☹️☹️

scott to the rescue

THEY TAKING THE XMEN TO THE POUND DAMN

oh damn charles admitted he was wrong good job

maybe bring these guys to therapy or something

erik thats ur stepdaughter chill

the aliens have hijacked the train 🙁

once again humans being stupid

he clearly just healed from those bullets why are you still shooting

hell yeah train fight scene

LMAO SHE JUST DIED

anyway moving on 😁

kurt’s angry now

WHAT WAS THAT EVIL GRIN

honestly feel like charles could do a lot more

yay magneto being cool as fuck

okay all the lackeys were defeated onto the main boss

oh damn storm got blasted

“you wanted her dead” “i had a change of heart” bro never decides whether or not to be evil

dad-daughter moment

at least they’re all still on the train

“i know what you did, you did out of love” THANK YOU JEAN

hell yeah marvel girl

we nearly at the end guys 🤯 (talking to myself)

damn she disintegrating all of them thats cool

she got stabbed ☹️

nvm she good

final boss moment

cgi hair battle which one looks more like its underwater

oh no don’t disintegrare ur bf

go to space you’ll be fine girly

lots of cgi going on

she died 😔

its fine she come back

thats a cool looking bird

you’ll be fine scott she does this from time to time

girl lost his sister AND his daughter someone check up on charles

bro completely erasing charles legacy damn 😔

its time for the gay people 😁

gonna appreciate this scene hold on

god these guys are so gay

bro staring at him with love in his eyes

IM SICK OF THEM RAAHH

love you cherik

and thats the movie

my dad told me the aliens were supposed to be skrulls but since captain marvel came out earlier in the year so they had to change it lmao

anyway go home the movies finished

[rubydubydoo122]

In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)

TRIGGER WARNING -> the joker

They appeared on a bench in a mall that looked like it came straight out of Stranger Things. It wasn’t abandoned or anything, it just looked very 80’s. There were way too many mullets, Shoulder-pads, and he was blinded by the bright colors. 

Dick and Jason immediately looked at each other, and said, “You’ll fit in perfectly– what? Me? Stop!” 

“Dick, you literally did the deep V and the Neon button ups–”

“You went from 80’s prep- with high waisted jeans and the sweaters over collared shirts– to Grease–”

“That’s from the late 70’s you dolt, and you did the black leather Jacket look first, and–”

“You’ve never had an original outfit in both of your lives.”

Jason went quiet as he waited for Dick to realize he just proved his point, but Dick’s face contorted like he said something wrong.

Both of your lives . Jason snickered, of course Dick would feel like he struck a nerve saying that. “Yeah, I haven’t. I usually copied you and Bruce.”

Dick blinked as he connected the dots, “Go fuck yourself.”

Jason turned to Bruce, “Bruce, Dick said a bad word.”

Bruce moved to sit in between Jason and Dick, and searched the crowd, “We are in the 80s. Not some sort of recreational area.”

Dick rolled his eyes, “Holy brand new vintage mall, Batman”

Bruce gave Dick a look, “I was just implying that there is no way Jason could’ve been born yet.”

Jason sat on his hands pitched his voice up, trying to emulate his younger self the best he could, “Golly gee, Old Man, you mean I’m not ancient like you? Tell me more.”

Dick snorted, but then cleared his throat, “I mean, we all could’ve just been born earlier in this Universe.”

Jason hummed, “I don’t think this world is similar to ours. The energy feels off.”

Dick groaned, “What is it this time? Are there vampires? Or everyone can turn into some type of monster or–”

“The energy feels off because there isn’t any magic. Like at all…” Jason squinted across the mall. “That might be something.” He pointed to the store with a cardboard cutout of Superman, Batman, and some Red Masked dude with black netting.

The three of them made their way to the… comic book store. Which was almost completely covered in comics– Batman plastered across the cover, along with a kid in Robin colors looking like someone had said something out of pocket. 

“Isn’t Tim’s cape supposed to be black on the outside?” 

Bruce picked the comic up, frowning as he handed the comic to Jason, “I think it’s supposed to be you.”

Jason looked at the back of his hand and then back to the kid on the cover, “Ain’t no way. That child is reflective . It has to be Tim.”

Dick looked over Bruce’s shoulder, “I dunno, he does have your hair loopies. Also, it says, Robin finds his mother, and waiting is the Joker, planning a revenge that is swift, violent, terrible. Can Robin survive? You–” Dick grabbed the comic and flipped to the last page where there was a black and white image of Batman holding Robin, “...What the actual– They voted.”

But Jason wasn’t really paying attention to that page, his eyes were focused on the page before– Batman in a truck, with the word JASON big, red, and bold.

Jason took the comic from Dick and started flipping through, realizing that it was panel for panel what happened. “This is disgusting.”

Dick nodded, “Who votes for a child to–”

“They made me white!”

Dick gave Jason an incredulous look, “ Die . Who votes for a child to die. ”

Jason shrugged, and showed Dick a panel that featured poser Jason with a pair of binoculars in his hands, “Eh… That does not look like a 15 year old. Those premature wrinkles… not a good look.” 

Bruce let out an exasperated sigh, “Jason, don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Myself? That child is not me. That child is not a child, and is clearly white. In fact–” Jason pointed at the white man on the page, and snickered, “That looks like the face of a future mass murderer. Besides,” Jason picked up another comic with White Jason bleeding from his nose, seemingly going out in an explosion, “He obviously got voted off the island.”

The twin unimpressed looks on Bruce and Dick’s face was absolutely worth it.

 Jason looked around for the first book in the four parter, and started walking to the cashier, when Bruce stopped him. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing mementoes.”

“Oh yeah?” Bruce raised an eyebrow, “With what money?”

“I do have cash on me. It’s just fun mooching off of ya.” Jason frowned, to help him feign ignorance, “Did you forget your wallet?”

Bruce grunted his, you caught me but I’m not going to admit I am wrong grunt.

“It’s ok, if we really need to, we can disassemble Dick’s phone and pawn it for parts.” Dick started patting his pockets, and Jason had to hold back his smirk, “You forgot your phone too?”

Dick groaned, “Why must the Multiverse hate us? I even took some really cute videos of baby Damian and… Jay.”

It’s not fair that Dick went all melancholy. Now Jason has to give his phone back. “You really should stop taking pictures of the younger versions of us.” He pulled out Dick’s phone and handed it to him, “Don’t you already have pictures of us?”

“Not of Damian and Tim at the age we saw them. And not with you.”

“Hm…”Jason pulled out Bruce’s wallet, and handed it to him, “Maybe when we get back, I should ask Talia if she has any.” Jason then pulled out a five dollar bill from his pocket and went to pay. 

Now, usually, Jason isn’t much of a comic book reader, but he had to buy this comic of the white man who was supposedly 15 and had the same name as him. It was just too funny. He turned back to Dick and Bruce, “I’m gonna frame this– Actually, no, I’m gonna photocopy each page and cover up the glass case with it. Maybe I’ll ask Damian to give ‘Jason’ some melanin.”

Someone walked up to them, “Are you guys talking about Jason Todd? Man, I hate him. I’m glad he died.”

If Jason had been drinking water, he would’ve done a spit take. That was blunt. 

Dick and Bruce on the other hand were glowering. He could practically see Dick repeating, Don’t punch him, Don’t punch him, Don’t punch him over and over again.

The dude was lanky, with angular features and greasy brown hair that was unkempt. 

“Excuse me?” The incredulity on Bruce’s face wouldn’t be visible to the dude, but it was loud and clear to Jason.

“For starters, he isn’t Dick Grayson. There’s only one Robin and it’s him. Jason Todd is just a knockoff.” 

Usually he would think this was hilarious– this dude didn’t even know he was talking to the ‘characters’ he was ranting about, but something about the dude made his gut twist in a way that screams danger.

“Jason Todd is not a knockoff . He took Robin, and made it into his own thing. He made it a legacy.” Dicks’ smile was tight as he said it. The way it was during Galas and someone had said something particularly racist. “Plus, Dick Grayson couldn’t be Robin forever. He had to grow into his own person and out of Batman’s shadow.”

“Sure, yeah, I like how they made Nightwing the leader of the Titans. Still doesn’t mean that Jason Todd’s a good Robin. How can you make a criminal a hero? I don’t know what Batman was thinking by giving that kid a chance. He found the kid boosting tires. He should’ve gone to juvie.” 

Now this was just getting kinda awkward. Actually, Kinda offensive. Very offensive.

“Batman believes in reform.” Bruce grunted, “Though, you are forgetting he was homeless at the time and that was his only source of income. ”

“Being Robin didn’t reform the kid.” The confusion on Jason and Dick’s face must’ve been obvious because the man continued, “Issue 424. They turned Robin into a murderer. I mean, I know it was supposed to be up for interpretation, but he obviously pushed Garzonas. Dick Grayson would never .”

This… really wasn’t funny.

Dick narrowed his eyes, “That’s because he watched his parents fall to their death. Also, did Robin really push him?” Dick directed that last part at Jason.

Crazy how things from the past that seemed miniscule are suddenly being brought up on this life altering trip around the multiverse. “I personally think that he didn’t. Garzonas was close to the edge and he was drunk. Robin was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m sure if Batman had landed first, Garzonas still would’ve toppled over.”

The dude huffed a laugh that felt eerily familiar, but in a bad way. “Still, Batman, or Nightwing would’ve tried to save him. Robin did not. And I still think he pushed her.”

“Your argument doesn’t make sense.” Bruce tilted his head, “You want Jason Todd dead for stealing tires and potentially killing someone, yet, you think Garzonas should’ve been saved? He kidnapped and sexually assaulted a woman, then continued to harass her, to the point where she felt the need to commit suicide.”

“I didn’t say that . I just don’t like the kid. I kinda wish Starlin went through with giving him AIDS, but oh well, this works too.” The dude shrugged and put his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Jason Todd’s just a piece of shit from a street corner. He was gonna die either way.”

There was the slightest shift in Dick’s body weight. In one swift move, Jason shrugged off the dude and grabbed Dick’s wrist before he could punch the dude.

They didn’t need to get arrested on account of assault.

What Jason didn’t expect was for the sound of skin meeting skin. Or Bruce looming over the dude, whose nose was now bleeding.

The dude barked out a laugh, as he wiped his nose, “The name’s Jack.” He grinned. He grinned in a way that was too…deranged to just be friendly. “ Jack White. ”

Then everything brightened to white.