#- ̗̀ ❀ i think i can handle it ( ic. ) ̖́ -

[itsaintmebabe]

silver springs

summary: years after the outbreak, joel keeps seeing someone who shouldn't be alive—just a glimpse, always disappearing before he can be sure. on the road to jackson, a masked stranger steps out of the shadows, gun raised, eyes too familiar to ignore.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

notes: i love love love reunion fics, let me know if you guys like it! i would love to take any requests you have too! <3

The first time Joel saw her, he thought he was losing his damn mind.

It was in Boston—years after the world had ended—when he spotted a figure slipping between two crumbling buildings. The street was crowded, loud, bodies pressing against each other as people bartered and argued over scraps. But everything else faded the moment he saw her.

His breath caught. His heart slammed against his ribs.

It couldn't be.

Joel shoved his way through the market, ignoring the curses thrown his way, eyes locked on the spot where she had disappeared. His pulse roared in his ears as he turned the corner, boots skidding against the broken pavement.

But she was gone.

Just a ghost in the ruins. Another cruel trick of his memory.

Then it happened again. And again.

Always fleeting. Always just out of reach.

A silhouette in the firelight of a raider camp. A shadow disappearing around a corner in an abandoned QZ. Every time, he told himself it was nothing. Just someone who looked like her. Some stranger with her same gait, her same hair.

It was easier than the alternative.

Easier than believing she had been here all along, just beyond his grasp.

Easier than believing he had lost her twice.

────୨ৎ────

The wind howled through the trees, cutting through layers of fabric and sinking deep into the bone. Joel pulled his coat tighter, keeping a hand near his revolver as he and Ellie made their way through the frozen landscape.

They were close to Jackson now.

Joel could feel it.

Ellie trudged ahead, boots crunching against the ice-covered dirt. “You ever been to Wyoming before?” she asked, breath curling in the cold air.

Joel huffed. “No.”

She kicked a rock down the path. “Think Tommy’s gonna be happy to see you?”

He exhaled through his nose. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Ellie snorted. “Sounds promising.”

She was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, voice more careful this time.

“So… that picture.”

Joel’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Ellie hesitated. “The Polaroid. The one in your bag. With you and—”

Joel cut her off with a sharp look. “Drop it.”

She frowned. “C’mon, man. I saw it.”

Joel clenched his jaw, his shoulders going stiff. “Ain’t nothin’ to talk about.”

Ellie huffed. “Sure doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Because she had seen it.

The faded Polaroid buried at the bottom of his bag, edges worn soft from years of being handled. Sarah had taken it—back before everything fell apart.

Joel stood in the frame, arm wrapped tight around Y/n’s waist, his head tilted just slightly as he looked at her. Not at the camera. At her. And Y/n—she had been smiling, really smiling, wide and bright. Ellie had never seen Joel look like that before, happy.

And now, he was acting like it didn’t exist.

Joel didn’t answer. Didn’t look at her. Just kept his gaze fixed ahead, hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

Ellie sighed, kicking another rock. “Fine. Whatever.”

But she wasn’t stupid.

Whoever she was—whoever had taken that picture, had captured that moment—she mattered.

More than Joel was willing to admit.

────୨ৎ────

Then— snap.

Joel stilled.

Ellie went rigid beside him, both of them drawing their weapons in a single, practiced motion.

The trees loomed over them, dark and endless, the wind shifting through the branches.

Then—movement.

A figure stepped forward, their boots crunching against the frozen ground. They wore a thick coat, dusted with frost, a rifle slung across their back. But it was the mask that set Joel’s teeth on edge. It covered everything but their eyes—worn, tattered, like it had been pulled from the wreckage of a life long gone.

“Drop the guns,” the figure said.

The voice was muffled, but something about it made Joel’s stomach turn.

Ellie stiffened. “I don’t think so.”

Joel barely heard her.

Because suddenly, none of this felt real.

His grip tightened on his gun. The wind cut sharp through the trees, but his body burned, his blood pounding as something ancient and wrong crawled up his spine.

He knew that voice.

His throat felt tight. “Take off the mask.”

The figure hesitated.

Then, slowly, they reached up, fingers trembling just slightly, and pulled it away.

Joel’s world stopped.

It was her.

Older, leaner—sharpened by the years, by the fight. But still her. The same eyes that had haunted him for two decades.

A breath punched from his chest, like something had reached inside and squeezed the air from his lungs.

Ellie’s voice broke through the silence, barely above a whisper.

“Oh my god.”

Joel didn’t move. Couldn’t. His feet felt rooted to the ground, his mind reeling as he stared at the impossible.

His hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach for her. To hold her. But she didn’t move.

The rifle was still firm in her hands, the barrel not pointed at him, but not lowered either.

“Y/n,” he breathed, stepping forward.

She stepped back.

His chest tightened.

She was looking at him like she wasn’t sure if he was real. Like he was something fragile, something impossible. Like if she blinked, he might disappear.

His voice wavered. “It’s me.”

She shook her head, lips parted, her breath shaky in the cold air.

Joel took another step forward.

And she took another step back.

His heart pounded as he reached for her rifle—not yanking, not forcing—just wrapping his fingers over it, solid and warm.

Her grip resisted for just a moment. A moment of hesitation, of silent disbelief, of fear that if she let go, this would all shatter into nothing.

Then—her fingers loosened.

And the rifle fell between them, landing in the snow with a muffled thud.

Joel’s breath came ragged, his chest tight with something too big to name.

Y/n stared at him, wide-eyed, lips parted. Her hands twitched at her sides before—slowly, hesitantly—one of them reached up.

Fingers ghosted over his jaw, tracing the scruff, the rough lines of his face. Over the creases in his forehead, the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

Like she was memorizing him.

Like she was afraid he would vanish if she didn’t.

Joel swallowed hard, his throat burning.

“‘M real,” he rasped.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers trembled as they pressed against his skin, as if expecting them to go right through.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and her lips parted like she was about to say something—maybe his name, maybe a curse, maybe nothing at all—before she was moving.

And Joel was catching.

His arms wrapped around her, locking her against him, holding her so damn tight he could barely breathe.

She gasped softly, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat, gripping desperately, as if she was afraid to let go.

Joel buried his face in her hair, squeezing his eyes shut, breathing her in.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmured, voice breaking.

Her body shuddered against him. She clenched her fists tighter in his coat, pressing her forehead to his shoulder.

“I looked for you,” she choked out. “Everywhere.”

The words shattered something inside him.

Because there was pain in them. Guilt, regret—love.

And just like that, all those years of silence, of searching, of ghosts and longing—

They collapsed.

Into the warmth of her body against his. Into the way she whispered his name like it hurt.

Joel clutched her impossibly closer, afraid to let go.

Afraid that if he did, she might vanish all over again.

[guksfairy]

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹LATE NIGHT KOO 23:29 `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

in which Jungkook tells you about a thing he used to do as a kid

notes: I learned abt this bc my bias talked abt it once and I’ve not stopped thinking abt it lol

Enjoy !

wc: 598

The tv displays funny acts of the yellow sponge and his pink star friend as you and Jungkook laughed every now and then at their shenanigans. It was a Friday night and neither one of you felt like going out with your friends so you packed an overnight bag and headed to your boyfriend’s house for a nice evening.

Jungkook, earlier in the day, had bought a ton of different ramen packs that he thought you’d both enjoy. You had scolded him saying that it was a waste of money and in return he replied I’m not wasting if I’m spending it on you.

“Love can you get the water,” Jungkook yells from the living room, lowering the volume for dinner.

You turn around to the boiling water and…you’re not sure why you did it. Or how it happened.

You’re not dense. You know that the handle of a pot can be hot when there’s boiling water inside of it.

Yet you completely skip over the oven mitt Jungkook left beside it and went directly to grab the handle, burning yourself in the process.

“Ow!” in an instant, Jungkook is back inside the kitchen watching you flick your hand back and forth as a reaction to the heat.

“Touch your ears!”

“What?” you stare at your boyfriend when he simply repeats it again.

“Touch your ears,” this time he’s calm and walking towards you as you do as he says. Your hand doesn’t burn as much as it did a moment ago but you still grab both of your ears gently, rubbing the skin.

Jungkook walks past you and takes the oven mitt to remove the pot from the stove. He places it on the trivet and turns back to you, who is still doing the same action.

He internally coos at you and moves your hands back down.

“Are you okay?” you nod and his worry is put at ease, “You don’t need any ice?” You shake your head.

“Why’d you tell me to touch my ears?” You giggle at his funny request.

“What?”

“Just now, when you told me to touch my ears,” you recall.

“Oh it’s what my mom used to tell me when I was a kid. If I burned myself I should touch my ears,” your eyebrows furrow and he continues.

“Yeah apparently your ears are usually the coolest part of your body, so when you burn yourself you’re supposed to touch your ears to dissipate the heat,” he explains pouring the boiling water into the cup of noodles.

“Is that true?” you ask in awe. You’ve never personally heard of this in your lifetime.

“Probably not? But as a kid, I believed and trusted my mom and, maybe it was a placebo effect, but it always comforted me,” he says and you verbally coo.

“You’re so cute,” you pinch his cheek and he smiles with a playful eye roll as he removes your hand.

“Yeah yeah,”

“Are you gonna teach that to our kid when they’re growing up?” you ask without thinking. The flush in Jungkook’s cheeks visible and only then did you realize the topic you brought up.

“Our kid?” He shyly repeats.

“Yeah…our kid,” you state and he sniffles a small laugh, leaning forward to engulf your body in a warm hug.

“Sure, I’ll teach them the same,” he says and you giggle thinking about Jungkook telling your son or daughter to touch their ears like he did just now.

[damiansgoodgirll]

can you write about drew and reader are a couple but no one knows and austin theory wants to have his way with reader. she’s shy and kind and she struggles saying no so austin thinks he has free will with her until he goes to far and drew has to intervene. some angst and a lot of fluff please ❤️❤️

drew mcintyre x reader

‼️angst, feels, comfort, touching without consent, austin is a dick here sorry‼️

safe in his arms

being shy in the wrestling business wasn’t easy. you were used to the loud personalities, the egos, the over-the-top confidence. you’d spent years perfecting your smile, your polite nods, your quiet way of excusing yourself from conversations that made you uncomfortable.

but the hardest part? saying no.

you never wanted to be rude. never wanted to upset anyone. so when people pushed, you let them. when they ignored your hesitation, you swallowed it down.

and most of the time, it wasn’t that bad.

but then, there was austin theory.

cocky, arrogant, and completely convinced that every woman in the locker room wanted him, including you.

it didn’t matter that you never flirted back. didn’t matter that you barely even made eye contact when he talked to you. he saw your shyness as an invitation, your soft-spoken nature as an opportunity.

and tonight, he took it too far.

the show had just ended, and you were on your way back to the locker room when you heard him.

“hey, y/n” austin called, jogging up beside you.

you forced a small smile “hey.”

“great match tonight” he said, flashing a grin “you looked real good out there.”

“thanks…” you murmured, hoping that would be the end of it.

but he kept walking beside you.

“you know, i was thinking…” he continued, his voice dripping with confidence “we should go out sometime. celebrate a little.”

you swallowed “oh, um… that’s nice of you, but i-“

“c’mon!” he interrupted, nudging your arm. “you never go out. gotta let loose a little.”

you hesitated. “i just don’t think…”

“just one drink!” he insisted “what’s the harm in that?”

your heart started to race “i’m really not-…”

and in that moment his hand landed on your waist. it wasn’t rough, wasn’t violent, but it wasn’t welcome.

your whole body tensed.

“austin, i said no…” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

but he didn’t move.

“don’t be like that” he murmured, his fingers pressing slightly against your hip “you’re just playin’ hard to get, huh?”

your throat tightened.

you knew austin. he wasn’t a bad person. he wasn’t dangerous.but right now, you felt trapped.

and then…

“get your hands off her.”

austin barely had a second to react before he was shoved back, hard enough to send him stumbling.

your breath caught.

drew.

his chest was heaving, his eyes burning with something dark, dangerous. his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

“what the hell, man?” austin huffed, regaining his balance “we were just talking.”

drew didn’t even blink “she said no.”

austin scoffed “oh, so you’re speaking for her now?”

“no” drew said, voice low and controlled, “but i’m damn sure listening to her more than you are.”

austin rolled his eyes “whatever, man. she’s a big girl. she can handle herself.”

drew took a step forward “she shouldn’t have to.”

for a moment, no one moved.

then, austin threw his hands up backing away “fine. whatever. not worth the trouble.”

you let out a shaky breath as he disappeared down the hall. immediately, drew turned to you, his expression softening “are you okay?”

your lips parted, but no sound came out. you felt frozen, like your body hadn’t caught up with what had just happened.

drew’s hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “sweetheart...” the warmth of his touch melted the ice in your chest.

you inhaled sharply, nodding “yeah. i’m okay…i just… i didn’t know what to do.”

his brows pulled together “you shouldn’t have to do anything. you told him no. that should’ve been enough.”

your vision blurred slightly “but it never is.”

his jaw clenched “i know.”

he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. you didn’t hesitate. you melted against him, burying your face in the fabric of his shirt. his arms tightened around you “i’ve got you” he whispered softly.

you let out a shaky breath “thank you.”

his lips pressed to the top of your head “always.”

later, in the quiet of your hotel room, drew held you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back.

“i hate that you felt like you couldn’t say no,” he murmured “hate that people take advantage of your kindness.”

you sighed “i don’t want to be mean.”

he pulled back slightly, looking down at you. “standing up for yourself isn’t mean.”

you bit your lip “i just…i don’t want people to hate me.”

his expression softened “sweetheart,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “anyone who gets mad at you for having boundaries isn’t worth worrying about.”

you swallowed “i know. it’s just…hard.”

he nodded “i know. but i’ll be right here, every time you need me.”

your heart swelled. you reached up, fingers brushing his jaw “i love you.”

he smiled, warm and soft “i love you too.”

his lips met yours, slow and gentle, a silent promise that you were safe.

that you were his. and in his arms, you finally felt at peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

[yunpupu]

Full-Court Tension | J.YH

Pairing: Basketball Star! Yunho × Business Student! Reader

Trope: Enemies to Lovers

Genre: Romance, Drama, College AU

Word Count : 1.8k

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊ ₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊ ₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊ ₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

note : they are 17 episodes in total. this post has 10 episodes today. the other 7 episodes will be posted tomorrow. i hope you’re gonna enjoy !! mwah <33

⤷ Episode 1: The Clash

The university was buzzing with excitement over the upcoming basketball championship. You, however, couldn’t care less. Your focus was on securing an internship at a top firm, acing your finance class, and maintaining your perfect GPA.

But then there was Jeong Yunho—the golden boy of the basketball team, adored by everyone, with an annoying habit of acting like the campus belonged to him. His cocky smirk and effortless charm made him the center of attention wherever he went. Unfortunately for you, his latest attention-seeking stunt had just turned into your problem.

“Hey, watch it!” you snapped as you dodged a stray basketball that nearly hit your laptop in the library.

Yunho jogged over with an easy grin, pushing back his sweaty bangs. “Relax, business major. It’s just a ball.”

You glared at him. “And this is just my entire thesis. Do you know what happens if it gets deleted? I fail. Unlike you, some of us can’t dribble our way to a degree.”

His grin faltered for half a second before he chuckled. “Wow, so dramatic. Maybe you should consider sportsmanship instead of stocks.”

You huffed, shoving your laptop into your bag. “Maybe you should consider paying attention instead of showing off.”

The tension between you two was undeniable. It had been like this since your first year—constant bickering, snarky remarks, and accidental encounters that always left you fuming. The entire campus had noticed.

“One day, you’ll admit I’m not the villain in your little business world,” Yunho teased as you walked away.

“That day will never come,” you shot back.

What you didn’t realize was that fate had different plans.

Episode 2: A Bet Worth Losing

The next time you ran into Jeong Yunho, it wasn’t because of an errant basketball—it was because of a bet.

“Wait, hold up. Say that again?” You blinked at your best friend, Seulgi, as she stirred her iced coffee.

“They’re short on student managers for the basketball team. Coach is desperate, and they’re offering extra credit,” she explained. “If you help out, Professor Kim will give you bonus points in Finance 302.”

You scoffed. “You want me to help Yunho’s team? No thanks. I’d rather fail.”

Seulgi raised a brow. “You sure? A few points could put you ahead of the curve for the scholarship competition.”

You hesitated. The business department’s scholarship was cutthroat, and every fraction of a grade mattered.

Before you could think too much, another voice chimed in. “Wow, the business genius is considering joining the court?”

Your head snapped up to see Yunho standing beside your table, a lazy smirk on his lips.

“Are you following me?” you accused.

He crossed his arms. “No, but I heard something interesting. You want extra credit? You, the ‘I don’t need help from anyone’ student?”

You bristled. “And?”

“And it just so happens that our team needs a manager,” he said smoothly. “Think you can handle it, business major?”

Your jaw clenched. The way he looked at you—half amused, half smug—made your blood boil.

Seulgi, of course, made it worse. “Ooh, I smell a challenge.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But I’m not doing this for you. It’s for the extra credit.”

Yunho chuckled, leaning in slightly. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

As you stormed out of the café, Seulgi whispered, “You so just walked into your own downfall.”

And maybe she was right—because nothing could have prepared you for what was coming next.

Episode 3: Playing by His Rules

You regretted your decision the moment you stepped into the gym.

The sound of squeaking sneakers, bouncing basketballs, and loud, energetic voices filled the air. It was chaotic—nothing like the structured, calculated world of business you thrived in.

And then there was him.

Yunho stood in the center of the court, dressed in his usual jersey and shorts, sweat glistening on his skin as he effortlessly spun the ball on his finger. He looked annoyingly in his element. When he noticed you, that ever-present smirk returned.

“Look who finally showed up,” he called out, tossing the ball into the air before catching it smoothly. “You lost yet, business major?”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t lose. I just make strategic investments.”

“Let’s see how well that works here.” He tossed you a clipboard, and you barely caught it in time. “Your job is simple—record stats, track our plays, and keep up.”

“Keep up?” you repeated, raising a brow. “I wasn’t aware I’d be running drills with you.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to make you aware of the height difference. “You might not be on the court, but this is my world now, and you play by my rules.”

You refused to be intimidated. “I don’t play. I win.”

“Guess we have that in common,” he mused before jogging back onto the court.

The next hour was pure torture. You barely had time to adjust to the fast-paced environment before the coach barked instructions at you. The players zoomed across the court, and you struggled to record their stats while dodging stray balls.

But the worst part? Yunho made sure you struggled.

Every so often, he’d call out a play too fast, forcing you to scramble. Other times, he’d smirk when you fumbled with your clipboard.

“You good over there?” he teased after making a perfect three-pointer.

“I hope you trip on your own ego,” you shot back.

His laugh was deep and rich. “Feisty. I like it.”

You scowled, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But deep down, you hated how easily he got under your skin.

By the time practice ended, you were exhausted, frustrated, and ready to quit. But then—

“Not bad for a newbie,” Yunho said, handing you a water bottle.

You took it hesitantly. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He grinned. “More like a challenge. Let’s see if you last the season.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, I’ll last. But will you handle losing to me?”

His smirk widened. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

“No,” you said firmly.

“Good,” he replied, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “That makes this more fun.”

And just like that, you realized—this wasn’t just a challenge. It was a game.

And Yunho? He played to win.

Episode 4: Fouls and Flirting

You were convinced Yunho was trying to drive you insane.

It had been a week since you started as the team’s manager, and somehow, he found a way to get under your skin every single day. Whether it was “accidentally” calling you rookie in front of everyone, making impossible demands for stats, or flashing that annoying smirk whenever you got flustered—it was nonstop torment.

And today? Today was no different.

“Business major, catch!”

Before you could react, a basketball slammed against your clipboard, sending your neatly organized papers flying.

“What the hell, Jung Yunho?” you snapped, glaring at him.

He just shrugged, completely unfazed. “Reflex training.”

“I’m not on the team,” you huffed, bending down to pick up your scattered notes.

Yunho crouched down beside you, easily snatching up a paper before you could grab it. His fingers brushed against yours briefly, and you immediately pulled away.

His grin was way too smug. “Nervous?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I just don’t want to catch whatever inflated ego disease you have.”

His chuckle was low, teasing. “Ouch. You’re getting meaner. I like it.”

Before you could retort, Coach’s whistle blew. “Yunho! Less flirting, more practicing!”

Your entire body froze.

Yunho, on the other hand, had the audacity to smirk. “Yeah, business major. Less flirting.”

“You—!” Your face burned as he jogged off, laughing.

Seulgi, who had been watching from the sidelines, sauntered over. “You realize this is a classic romance setup, right?”

You scoffed. “Please. I’d rather date my Excel spreadsheet.”

“Uh-huh.” She gave you a knowing look. “So why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing,” you muttered, but your heart was still racing.

You absolutely despised Jeong Yunho.

So why did it feel like you were losing this game?

Episode 5: The Assist

You had survived two weeks of working as the basketball team’s manager, and if there was one thing you learned, it was this: Jeong Yunho thrived on making your life difficult.

Between his teasing remarks, impossible stat requests, and constant smirking, you were convinced he was doing this on purpose. But today? Today was different.

Because today, you were the one with the upper hand.

“Alright, listen up!” Coach clapped his hands. “This Friday, we’re hosting a fundraiser. The players will be running a three-point contest for charity. And the team manager—”

Your eyes widened.

“—will participate in a shooting challenge.”

You nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

Coach grinned. “Yunho, since you seem to love bothering our manager, you’re responsible for training them.”

Yunho turned to you, his expression way too pleased. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

You groaned. “This is your fault.”

“I didn’t do anything… yet,” he said, tossing a ball at you. “Come on, let’s see what we’re working with.”

You hesitated before gripping the ball and stepping up to the free-throw line. You took a deep breath, aimed, and—

Clank. The ball smacked the rim and bounced off.

Yunho whistled. “That was painful.”

“Shut up,” you muttered.

He walked over, standing behind you. “Here, let me show you.”

You expected him to just give you pointers, but instead, he placed his hands lightly on your waist, adjusting your stance. Your breath hitched.

“You need balance,” he murmured, his voice lower than usual. “And follow through.”

His fingers brushed your wrist as he guided your shooting motion. You swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of how close he was.

This was a trap. It had to be.

“Try again,” he said, stepping back.

You quickly shook off the weird feeling and focused. This time, when you took the shot—

Swish. The ball went in perfectly.

You turned to Yunho, expecting him to be smug, but instead, he just nodded, looking… almost impressed.

“Not bad, business major,” he said. “Maybe you’re actually good at something other than numbers.”

You smirked. “Careful, Jeong. You almost sounded nice just now.”

He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with amusement. “Don’t get used to it.”

Your heart did something weird, but you ignored it. This was just basketball. Just another challenge.

So why did it feel like something was changing?

Episode 6: Overtime

You weren’t sure what was more frustrating—Yunho’s teasing or the fact that you were starting to enjoy it.

The fundraiser was in two days, and Yunho had been training you relentlessly. Every evening after practice, it was just the two of you in the gym, shooting baskets and exchanging snarky remarks.

And maybe—just maybe—you were getting used to it.

“Focus, business major,” Yunho said as you lined up another shot.

You rolled your eyes. “I am focused.”

“Are you?” He took a step closer. “Because you’ve missed your last three shots.”

You ignored him and took the shot. The ball bounced off the rim.

Yunho sighed. “Okay, that’s it.”

Before you could react, he grabbed the ball, dribbled twice, and spun around you—way too close—before sinking a perfect shot.

“Show-off,” you muttered.

He grinned. “I could say the same about you in class. Always acting like you know everything.”

“Because I do,” you shot back.

He laughed. “Right. So if you’re such a genius, why are you still bad at this?”

You glared at him. “I am not bad at this.”

“Prove it.” He stepped back, holding the ball out to you. “One-on-one. First to five points.”

You hesitated. “What do I get if I win?”

Yunho smirked. “What do you want?”

You thought for a moment before crossing your arms. “If I win, you stop calling me ‘business major.’”

He raised a brow. “And if I win?”

Your stomach flipped at the way he was looking at you—like he already knew he had the upper hand.

“If I win,” he said, stepping closer, “you have to admit that you don’t actually hate me.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oh.

So this wasn’t just a game anymore.

“Deal,” you said, ignoring the sudden heat in your face.

Yunho grinned. “Let’s play, then.”

Episode 7: A Game of Tension

The gym felt way too quiet as you stood across from Yunho, gripping the basketball. The bet was set—first to five points. If you won, he’d finally stop calling you business major. But if he won…

You’d have to admit you didn’t actually hate him.

Which, at this point, was becoming harder to deny.

“Ready?” Yunho asked, dribbling lightly. His eyes gleamed with pure confidence.

You took a deep breath. You can do this.

“Always,” you said.

The moment the game started, you realized just how outmatched you were. Yunho moved effortlessly, his footwork fast and precise. Within seconds, he drove past you and made an easy layup.

“One-zero,” he said, flashing you a smirk.

You gritted your teeth. “Lucky shot.”

But it wasn’t luck. Yunho was ridiculously good, and every time you tried to block him, he found a way past you. The score climbed—2-0, 3-0, 4-0—and panic settled in.

“I thought you hated losing?” Yunho teased, bouncing the ball in front of you.

You exhaled sharply. Focus.

The next time he moved to shoot, you faked left before lunging right, managing to steal the ball from him. Yunho barely had time to react before you sprinted toward the hoop and threw up a shot—

Swish.

Your first point.

Yunho blinked, surprised. Then, to your absolute horror, he smiled.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You ignored the way your pulse jumped and focused on the game. Slowly, you caught up—4-1, 4-2, 4-3. You could see it in Yunho’s stance now—he wasn’t underestimating you anymore.

“You’re actually trying now,” you said, wiping sweat from your brow.

Yunho’s eyes darkened slightly. “And you’re actually impressive.”

Your chest tightened.

But you had no time to process it, because the next play, Yunho was on you in a flash. His defense was tight, too close, making it impossible to move.

You tried to fake a shot, but the second you hesitated, Yunho snatched the ball from your hands and spun around for the final shot.

5-3. Game over.

Your heart pounded as he turned to face you, sweat dripping down his temple. His gaze was unreadable, but his smirk was still there—cocky, but softer somehow.

“You lost,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard. “I know.”

“And that means…” He took a slow step toward you.

You should have been annoyed, should have rolled your eyes, but instead—you felt warm. Trapped in his gaze, your heartbeat refusing to calm down.

You exhaled shakily. “Fine.”

Yunho tilted his head, waiting.

“I don’t… actually hate you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

A slow grin spread across his face. “Took you long enough.”

Your breath caught when he suddenly leaned in, voice lower than before.

“What else are you hiding, business major?”

And just like that, you realized—this game?

It was far from over.

Episode 8: Close Calls and Closer Moments

The gym was empty now, except for you and Yunho. The echo of the last basket still lingered, but your heart was louder—pounding in your ears as he stood way too close, that teasing smirk never leaving his lips.

“What else are you hiding, business major?” he had asked, his voice lower than usual.

You should’ve rolled your eyes. You should’ve walked away. But instead, you just… stood there, staring at him, way too aware of how warm the gym felt.

“You’re seriously enjoying this, aren’t you?” you muttered.

Yunho grinned. “Obviously. It’s not every day you admit you don’t hate me.”

You crossed your arms. “I said I didn’t actually hate you. Doesn’t mean I like you.”

“Not yet,” he shot back effortlessly.

Your stomach flipped, and you hated how natural he made this game of tension feel. Before you could respond, Yunho suddenly grabbed a stray basketball and started dribbling, his expression turning casual.

“Let’s make another bet,” he said, spinning the ball on his finger.

You narrowed your eyes. “No way. Last time, I lost.”

“Exactly,” he teased. “And aren’t business majors supposed to take risks?”

You groaned. “Fine. What is it?”

He stopped spinning the ball and held it out to you. “One last shot. If you make it, I’ll stop messing with you for a whole week. No teasing, no calling you business major.”

You hesitated. “And if I miss?”

Yunho’s gaze darkened slightly. “If you miss, you owe me a favor.”

You swallowed. “What kind of favor?”

He smirked. “I’ll decide later.”

Your pulse jumped. This was dangerous. Yunho was unpredictable, and knowing him, the favor could be anything.

But… a whole week of peace sounded tempting.

“Deal,” you said before you could overthink it.

Yunho stepped back, watching as you lined up your shot. You exhaled slowly, focused on the hoop, and—

Clank. The ball bounced off the rim.

Your stomach dropped. “No—”

Yunho caught the ball effortlessly, looking way too pleased. “Oops.”

You groaned. “That was rigged. The hoop is definitely crooked.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Excuses, excuses.”

You sighed. “Alright, fine. What’s the favor?”

Yunho dribbled the ball slowly, his gaze flickering with amusement. “I’ll let you know when I feel like cashing it in.”

“That’s unfair!”

“Life’s unfair, business major,” he said, way too smug.

You glared at him, but there was something in the air—something unchanged but different at the same time. The teasing, the tension, the challenge. It wasn’t just bickering anymore.

And the worst part?

You weren’t sure if you wanted it to stop.

Episode 9: Off the Court

You should’ve known Yunho wouldn’t forget about the favor.

For the next two days, he said nothing about it—just continued his usual antics, smirking whenever you passed by, throwing random basketball terms at you as if you suddenly understood the sport, and still—still—calling you business major.

But when Friday rolled around, and the team’s fundraiser finally began, you realized too late that Yunho had been waiting for the perfect moment.

The gym was packed. Students, faculty, and even some local reporters had shown up for the event. The basketball players were running the three-point contest, and you were busy keeping track of donations and stats.

Everything was going smoothly until—

“You.”

You turned around only to see Yunho standing there, arms crossed, that look on his face.

“What?” you asked warily.

He tilted his head. “It’s time to cash in my favor.”

Your stomach dropped. “Right now?”

“Mhmm.” His grin was absolutely dangerous. “I want you to participate in the shooting contest.”

You choked. “What?!”

“You heard me,” he said. “Five shots. In front of everyone.”

You gaped at him. “Are you insane? I’m not doing that!”

“Yes, you are.” He leaned in slightly, voice low. “Unless you want to break our deal?”

You hated the way your heart skipped at the way he said that.

You hated that he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

And you really, really hated that you weren’t about to back down.

“Fine,” you said, snatching the ball from his hands. “But if I embarrass myself, I’m blaming you.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you stepped onto the court, the crowd’s murmurs grew louder. Your hands felt clammy as you positioned yourself at the three-point line.

The first shot? Miss.

The second? Another miss.

You could feel Yunho watching, arms crossed, probably laughing at you.

The third shot—in.

The crowd cheered, and you blinked in surprise.

The fourth—another swish.

Your heart pounded. One more.

You took a deep breath, focused on the hoop, and—

A hand touched your back lightly.

“You got this,” Yunho murmured, just close enough for only you to hear.

Your stomach flipped, and before you could process anything, your hands moved automatically—

Swish.

Three out of five. You had done it.

The crowd cheered, and Yunho? He just grinned. “Looks like my training worked.”

You shoved the ball into his chest. “I still hate you.”

He just laughed, eyes gleaming. “Sure, business major. Sure.”

But as you walked away, heart still racing, you weren’t sure if that was true anymore.

And that realization?

It was more terrifying than any game.

Episode 10: Unspoken Truths

The fundraiser had ended successfully, but you were still reeling from what had happened on the court. Three out of five shots. You had actually done it.

But the real shock? How much Yunho had been right there by your side—encouraging you.

You couldn’t stop thinking about his words, his touch on your back when you were about to take that final shot. It was subtle, but it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

After the event wrapped up, you decided to leave the gym early, needing some time to clear your head. But as you reached the door, you heard footsteps behind you.

“Running away again, business major?”

You didn’t turn around. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Yunho’s voice came closer, and you could feel the space between you shrink with every step. “I thought we were done with the whole ‘I hate you’ thing.”

You finally turned to face him. “What makes you think that?”

He was standing so close now that you could feel the heat of his body, and his gaze was different—softer. No teasing, no smug grin. Just a look you couldn’t place.

“You didn’t hate me on the court,” he said quietly. “Not when you made those shots.”

You blinked, the memory of his hand on your back flickering through your mind. “That was just… strategy. For the fundraiser.”

“Mm.” He tilted his head, considering your words carefully. “I don’t buy that. Not after the way you looked at me when I told you to go for the last shot.”

Your breath caught. “I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.” He took a step closer, and your heart skipped. “Look, I get it. You’re all about control. You like your business plans and spreadsheets. But me? I’m not a part of any formula.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking in. Was that it? Was he right? Had this entire time just been a series of calculated moves?

Or was there something else?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Sure you don’t,” Yunho replied, his voice low but full of something you couldn’t understand. “But maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to figure it out.”

Your heart pounded, and suddenly, the gym felt too small, the air too thick. You took a step back. “I’m leaving.”

“Not so fast,” Yunho said, his hand lightly brushing your arm, keeping you in place.

The contact was brief, but it sent a shock through you. “Yunho…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He studied you for a moment, as if trying to read you, before sighing. “I’m not saying we’re suddenly best friends or anything. But maybe—just maybe—I could be more than the guy who gets under your skin.”

Your breath hitched, and for a split second, you wondered if this entire time you’d been fighting against something that felt… real.

“You think you can change my mind?” You managed to ask, though your voice was quieter than you meant it to be.

Yunho smiled, but it wasn’t that cocky grin you were used to. It was softer, more genuine. “I don’t need to change your mind.” He leaned in just slightly, close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin. “I just need you to stop pretending you don’t want to find out how this plays out.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

And for the first time, you weren’t sure if the game was over—or just beginning.

[itsnesss]

hi! this request has spoilers for cobra kai season 6 part 3 :).

could i please request something with sensei wolf after he loses to jonny in the sensei tiebreaker. like he’s still high on adrenaline and hes annoyed, with some smut? thank you! i hope you enjoyed part 3.

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 | sensei wolf × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, rude, p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public

word count | 2.2 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The roar of the crowd still echoes in your ears as you watch Sensei Wolf from the corner of the gym. The loss to Johnny hasn’t just overwhelmed him; it has stayed with him, like a stain he can’t get rid of. You know he’s not used to losing, especially not to Johnny. The adrenaline still running through his body is evident in every movement: the rapid pace of his breathing, his hands slightly trembling, as though he’s still processing what just happened.

His frustration is palpable, and the rage, clearly visible on his face, can’t be hidden. The way his eyes gleam with an almost wild intensity, as if he’s searching for something in the crowd, makes you take an involuntary step back. But you stay there, watching, almost as if you could feel the fury emanating from his body. In this moment, he seems more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him. You know it’s not just about the loss in the tiebreaker. There’s something else, something personal, something that’s burning inside of him.

The place is starting to empty out, but he remains there, motionless, as if he can’t process what just happened. You feel watched, as if it’s inevitable that, sooner or later, he will notice you. And when he does, you can see the slight hesitation in his gaze. A fleeting glance, a blink that makes you think that maybe he’s not as sure of how to handle all of this. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so bewildered. He knows he’s failed, but you also know he’s not willing to admit it.

Walking toward him is an impulse you can’t stop. You know this won’t be easy, and you have no idea what to expect. But still, you do it, your footsteps echoing on the gym floor as you approach, leaving behind the crowd and the charged atmosphere of celebrations and defeats.

When you finally reach his side, he doesn’t move. He looks at you directly, as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re doing there, and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you should have stayed in the shadows. But you know this is what you have to do. It’s not just for him, but for yourself. For the strange magnetism you’ve always felt toward him, for the way the tension between you never disappears, even in moments like this.

“Are you okay?” you ask in a low, almost doubtful voice. The question seems empty, like an attempt to break the ice, but you know the real reason behind your concern is far more complicated. Despite his hardened exterior, something in his gaze tells you that he’s not as fine as he’d like others to believe. He’s not okay, and you know it.

He watches you in silence for what seems like an eternity. The discomfort in the air becomes dense, as if words are no longer enough to encompass what’s going on between you two. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice deep and full of frustration. “No, I’m not okay,” he mutters, his breathing still irregular. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

The words aren’t surprising. You already knew. You knew the loss was eating him up inside. You know him well enough to understand that he doesn’t like to lose, and especially not to Johnny, who, though not a bad fighter, isn’t someone he feels comfortable competing against. But you also know that what really has him so out of control isn’t just the loss. There’s something else. Something much deeper that has affected him, something he’s not willing to face.

You take another step closer, feeling how the space between you shrinks. The tension in the air is palpable, like you’re both charged with static electricity, waiting for something to happen. In his eyes, you see the rage, but also something else, something you can’t identify right away. You’re too close, but you don’t pull away. Not now. You’re too close to the truth to let it go.

“Johnny didn’t play dirty,” you blurt out, perhaps louder than you intended, but it’s how you feel. It’s not just the loss that has him so out of control. There’s something else that’s consuming him, and even though you know it’s not the right time to talk about it, you can’t help it.

Wolf steps closer to you, and for a second, the air seems to grow even thicker. The electricity between you two is almost tangible. You can’t help but look into his eyes, that intense gaze that now seems to scan you completely. The control you’ve always seen in him has vanished, and in its place, there’s a dangerous spark, like he’s looking for something else in you.

“Do you really believe that?” he asks in a lower tone, almost a whisper. The way he says it sends a chill through your body. It’s not just the rage that’s driving him now. There’s something else. Something deeper. Something neither of you, nor he, can hide.

“I don’t care what you think,” you reply, defiantly, though your voice trembles slightly. You’ve gotten so close that you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. But you don’t back down. Not now. You’re too close to the truth to let it slip away. The tension between you two is unbearable, and you know there’s no turning back.

What follows is almost a game. A dangerous game where you both challenge each other without words. Every look, every gesture, every breath becomes more intense. The space between you two becomes minimal. One more step, and you’d be touching. The atmosphere is so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

Suddenly, he grabs your wrist with an unexpected firmness. The physical contact is as abrupt as it is electrifying, and though a slight jolt runs through your body, you don’t pull away. He drags you toward the hallways, almost without saying a word, but you can feel the fury, the frustration, and the need to channel something in his body. There are no words. Just the sound of your hurried steps echoing off the walls of the empty gym.

Once you’re inside the bathroom, he slams the door shut with a loud bang. The sound is strong, like an echo of everything that just happened. The room is dim, and the air seems even heavier. Now, there are no barriers. There’s no space between you two. He watches you with intensity, his eyes fixed on yours as if he’s waiting for something, but you don’t know what. All you feel is the heat radiating from his body, the brush of his breath, the closeness that’s now unbearable.

The air in the bathroom grows even thicker, charged with tension, with something neither of you dares to verbalize. The space between you two is so small that there’s no room for anything else. The distance dissolves, and you can’t help it, you can’t resist the need that’s burning in your chest. Without thinking, your lips meet his in a kiss that’s anything but soft. It’s urgent, needy, as though both of you are searching for an answer in the other, something you couldn’t find anywhere else.

He reacts immediately, one hand firmly on your neck, pulling you closer, as if he feared that if you moved even an inch away, everything he had built up during the fight, the frustration, the rage, would crumble. The intensity of his kiss is fierce, and it surprises you, enveloping you, as if nothing else mattered at that moment. The brush of his body against yours is searing, and for a moment, all you know is that you’ve lost yourself in him, in this contact, in this need that feels like an explosion.

When you finally break apart, both of you breathing heavily, he looks at you intently, his eyes shining with something you’ve never seen before: vulnerability. But there’s also a fierce determination, as though he’s on the edge, caught between his desire and the fear of what this might mean. His voice comes out rough, low, and urgent, as if he needs to say it, as though he can’t keep going without releasing the pressure.

“I need you,” he whispers, barely a murmur, but the words resonate in your chest, making you feel as if the weight of his declaration has fallen on you. It’s not a plea, it’s not a demand. It’s an affirmation, a raw truth that makes it all feel even more real.

What he's doing is confessing his need, something that, you know, isn't easy for him.

You can't respond. The words get stuck in your throat. The situation is so intense that you don't know what to do. All you can feel is the heat of his lips against yours, his breath against your neck, the urgency of his hands as they undress you. Sensei Wolf's body is hard and heavy, his skin hot and sweaty, the contact with your body is scorching. Without thinking, you move closer, yearning for more contact, more heat, more need. And when his lips brush against yours once more, you can't help the sigh that escapes your lips. The need becomes palpable in the air, like an abyss that envelops them and from which you can no longer escape.

What is happening between the two of them is inevitable.

Finally, he undresses you completely, the clothes falling to the floor. His eyes don't leave you, as if they were registering each of your reactions. The vulnerability in his eyes becomes more evident, but the tension in his body does not cease. It's not time to rest yet.

As soon as he looks at you with the most intense gaze you've ever seen, anger, pain, and need intertwining, you know you can't stop what's about to come. He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his hips, and carries you to one of the walls, his erection between his legs. The look in his eyes is of such wild intensity that you can barely stand it.

The penetration is hard, rough, without consideration. There is no tenderness, no gentleness. Everything is urgent, necessary, as if he were freeing himself from the pressure that has been crushing him. You bite your lip to avoid screaming, to not break the silence. The wall feels cold against your back, but you can't feel the cold. All your attention is focused on the penetration, on the feeling of his erection inside you, on the way he touches every part of you. The sensation is intense, as if all his frustration had focused on you.

"Yes, Feng...", you whisper, half-dazed, but he barely pays attention to your words. His entire body is focused on the sexual act, on the penetration, as if there were something more behind this, something even he cannot explain. The need in his eyes has not diminished, it is even wilder than before, as if they were in a race against time.

The breathing is strong, gasping, each of their breaths accompanied by a gasp that mixes with your own breaths. His arms envelop you completely, his muscles tense and hard. His entire body is like a block of stone, solid and heavy.

A few moments later, you feel ready to explode, the climax just a few inches away from you. Everything about his body tells you that he is also close. His breathing is even stronger, the muscles tensing even more. It's as if his own climax were inevitable, as if something greater were enveloping him.

"Feng... no...", you gasp, about to reach orgasm.

He keeps moving, not caring about your words. At this moment, he doesn't seem to be in the bathroom of a public place. He doesn't seem defeated, he doesn't seem to feel the anger and frustration he just felt. He is different, someone closer to you, someone who has allowed himself to be vulnerable, someone who has allowed need to take control over him.

Finally, when you reach the climax, their bodies shake at the same time, the orgasm enveloping them. Everything becomes blurry. The only thing you know is the feeling of having him inside you, of feeling the tension of his muscles against yours.

After a few minutes, the moment of intensity passes, and silence is the only sound in the air. There are no words to describe what just happened between the two of you. All there is are the sounds of your ragged breaths, the quickened breathing, and the feeling of Wolf's body against yours, his erection still inside you.

He leans against the wall with a sigh, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. His body feels heavy, as if the tension that had enveloped him for so long had been released, and all that remained was the need for you.

Their eyes meet yours, and for a brief second, you can see a shadow of guilt in them.

"Sorry if I was too harsh," he whispers, the words coming out with a bit of effort. But you know there's no need to apologize. There was never a choice for what had just happened between the two of you.

You don't respond. You can't. All the words have evaporated in your mouth. The only thing you can do is look at him, look at the man in your arms, the man who just moments ago seemed like a bomb about to explode. The change is incredible. At this moment, he is a vulnerable man, a man who has admitted his need, a man who can finally relax.

[starshideurfics]

A Mother’s Love - Part Five

part one, part two, part three, part four

omegaverse, pre-steddie, wayne x benny, steve with powers

Dustin Henderson is a handful. And a chatterbox. Pretty much anything that passes through his mind, Dustin says. Winding stories about what happened at school, explanations of science experiments, and question after question after question.

Steve almost never knows the answers to Dustin’s questions, but he writes them down. The list is two pages long by the third straight weekend of watching him on Friday nights, and Steve decides they need to do something about it. “We’re going to the library,” he says, holding up the list of questions. “Get your bike.”

They spend two hours digging through reference books, Dustin just quiet enough for the library, and find answers for most of the questions on the first page. Steve feels like he’s really getting the hang of this baby-sitting business, and that night, when Claudia gets home Dustin clings to Steve, hugging him tight. “Can Steve stay?” he begs.

Claudia ruffles her son’s curls. “Time for bed, Dusty. Steve needs to go home now. You’ll see him again next week.”

Dustin pouts, grabs Steve’s wrist, and rubs it against his cheek. “Night, Steve,” he says before stomping down to the bathroom.

“I wasn’t sure how Dusty would handle all this, but it looks like you’ve figured him out.”

“He’s got a lot to say, but he just says it. I can handle listening,” Steve says with a shrug, taking his pay and heading back out to his bike. He should go home, but instead he bikes to Benny’s, going in the back. Eddie’s at the sink, washing dishes, and Steve grabs a stool to sit next to him.

“How’s the twerp?”

“Today we learned what makes a berry different from other fruit, and grapes are berries but strawberries aren’t.”

“Strawberries are definitely berries! If you ask me to think of a berry, that’s the one I’m imagining.”

“Science says they aren’t!” Steve pulls the paper from his back pocket, reads his own little note below the main question about berries. “They’re an accessory fruit, whatever that means.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve suspiciously. “Why’d Dustin even want to know that?”

“We were eating raspberry ripple ice cream last week and he asked. I don’t claim to understand how his weird little brain works, I just know he likes me.” Steve flushes and rubs at his wrists. “He wanted me to scentmark him today.”

“Kid moves fast,” Eddie teases, plopping a few dish soap bubbles on Steve’s nose. “Let me know when he asks you to marry him so I can defend your honor.”

“Shut up!” Steve hops on his feet, reaching for a handful of bubbles to smack onto Eddie’s growing curls, but the alpha hops out of his way.

“Hey! This is work time, Munson, not play time,” Benny jibes as he comes in the back, arms laden with more dishes for the sink.

Steve and Eddie immediately stop their burgeoning bubble fight, and Steve runs over to take the tray of cups from his mama, ready to help.

Suitably unburdened, Benny pulls Steve into his arms and kisses the crown of his head. “How’s the twerp?” he asks, rubbing his wrist between Steve’s shoulder blades.

Grinning, Steve starts telling Mama about his afternoon with Dustin, “He’s good. We learned strawberries aren’t berries…”

❤️❤️❤️

Dustin never proposes to Steve—“It’s what pups do! they fall in love with their baby-sitters, Stevie!”—but he does get possessive. Claudia recommended Steve to the Sinclairs, and he watches Lucas and Erica on Wednesdays now, too. Dustin is very adamant that Steve was his first. He and Lucas are friends, so his real nemesis is Erica. She’s 6 and tiny and perfectly willing to use it to her advantage to get extra cuddles.

It comes to a head over winter break, Steve watching the three of them together at the Sinclairs’ house, watching Christmas specials after eating macaroni and cheese. Erica is already right next to Steve, Dustin on his other side, and she slowly climbs into his lap, her fingers gripping his sweater.

Dustin growls.

It’s a tiny puppy growl, not a real threat, but Steve can’t stop the thing inside him that needs to protect the pup in his lap, arms wrapping around Erica. “Dustin!” he chides gently.

Erica sticks her tongue out at Dustin. Lucas looks between them, and rolls his eyes. “It’s not fair!” Dustin whines.

“Suck it up!” Erica returns.

“Erica!” Steve scolds, still holding her.

“Yeah, Erica, knock it off,” Lucas grumbles. Which starts Erica arguing with him. Dustin growls again, tugging on Steve’s arms. It’s too much, too close.

Steve’s barriers fall, head suddenly too full. Dustin’s jealousy and hurt, Erica’s smug gloating, and Lucas’s frustration explode in his head. Tears sting at his eyes, and Steve struggles to get himself in check. But he pushes too hard, nose bleeding as he crushes Erica to his chest. She yelps over being squished, and Dustin and Lucas freak out when they notice the bleeding, not sure what to do.

Eyes watering, Steve manages to pass Erica to Lucas, mumbling, “It’s okay,” through the haze of puppy-fear filling his head and squeezing his heart. He stumbles to the bathroom and grabs a wad of toilet paper to stanch the bleed, reaching out for his mother, for the calm and safety that comes with thinking of Mama. But it doesn’t come.

For a long minute, Steve is a pup again, needing his mana. And Mama isn’t there.

He’s doing the breathing exercises his mom gave him years ago, trying to get back to his baseline, when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“I’m sorry, Steve!” Dustin cries. “We promise not to fight again!”

“Yeah,” Lucas chimes.

“I don’t.”

“Erica!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Erica grumbles, and Steve is pretty sure she bites Lucas before adding, “Please come out, Steve!”

He takes a last deep breath, checks to see that the bleeding has stopped, and opens the door to three contrite faces. “Sorry I scared you,” he says gently.

“It was my fault,” Dustin says. “I just…” He doesn’t have the words.

“It was an accident.” Steve pulls the pup into a hug. “How about I make some popcorn, and we finish watching Rudolph?”

The pups nod, easily returning to the couch. While he’s in the kitchen, Steve calls Benny’s. “Mana, can I stay at your place tonight?—No, I just need to see you.”

❤️❤️❤️

When Steve turns 15, Benny starts teaching him to drive. Marsha and Richard agree that they got all of Steve’s big milestones, Benny can have this one to himself. Every Sunday afternoon, Benny picks Steve up and hands him the keys to his pickup truck. They start in the Hawkins High parking lot, Steve proving he knows what every knob and lever does before he’s allowed to start the engine.

Once Steve has mastered the empty parking lot, Benny has him take them out on quiet country roads, lots of simple trips to get him comfortable behind the wheel. Sometimes they just listen to the radio, singing along with the words they know, making up the ones they don’t. Other times, Steve talks about school and swimming and sitting, Benny asking questions and offering advice.

On a warm day in early April, Steve asks a question he’s been considering for a long time. “Mama, have you ever been in love?” He thinks he knows the answer, but he asks anyway.

“I dunno. Biggest love I’ve ever had in my life is you, baby.”

“What about my father?”

Benny shifts in the passenger seat. “Wasn’t like that…” He swallows hard, squeezes Steve’s hand on the gear shift. “The program only recruited omegas, and we never heard much about the… material used. It was all very clinical—medical. Marsha might know more, but as far as I know, I never met your father.”

“Oh…” Any romantic notions Steve had about a whirlwind romance, about lovers separated by fate, and about Mama not having any other options fly out of his head. He was always a science experiment, no matter how much Mama loved him.

“Where’s this coming from?” Benny shifts again, and Steve’s not sure they should be driving for this conversation. He pulls off on the shoulder and Benny asks, “Is there someone at school? Some alpha I should know about?”

“No! Mama, it’s not that… No one’s giving me butterflies, I just.” Steve unbuckles his seatbelt and turns in his seat. “You know I don’t care, right? That you’re both omegas, I mean. I just want you to be ha-”

Spine straightening, Benny whispers, “Steven, what are you talking about?”

“Wayne.” Steve looks away as his mama stares at him. “He makes you happy.”

Benny’s face softens, and he reaches over to cup Steve’s cheek. “I thought we said no taking your barriers down. It’s easier to maintain than replace.”

Steve leans into his touch. “They don’t work on you. I can’t help it.” He smirks and adds, “You make Wayne happy, too.”

���You shouldn’t be mucking around in Wayne’s feelings. Respect his privacy.”

“Tell that to Eddie. He’s the one who told me.”

❤️❤️❤️

Benny waits another six months before saying anything to Wayne. Steve hasn’t had another issue with keeping his barriers up in that time, and it feels like maybe they’ve found a safe enough space for him to try. Like maybe he’s comfortable enough being Steve’s Mama now, and he’s ready to add to that.

He doesn’t plan it, either, just looks over at Wayne one night when they’re watching football. At least, Wayne is watching football; Benny is mostly looking at Wayne’s lips, focused on the way they curl around his cigarette.

“Wanna ‘nother beer?” Wayne asks at a commercial break, catching him looking.

Benny shakes his head, screws up his courage, and whispers, “I want you.”

Wayne takes his confession in stride, giving in to his own barely-concealed desires, and guiding Benny down for a surprisingly gentle kiss. Looking into Wayne’s eyes, Benny sees exactly what he’s looking for, and gets to his feet. He practically drags Wayne to his nest, the pair of omegas shucking their clothes with clumsy fingers in their haste to see and show. To touch and taste and smell.

To love one another.

Benny hasn’t bothered with sex in years. He’s got toys and a pair of perfectly good hands, so he gets by just fine. But the feeling of Wayne touching him, of his mouth on Benny’s most sensitive areas, is the most exquisite pleasure-pain. It zings through him. Makes him shake, his pussy convulsing around a pair of nicotine-stained fingers and soaking Wayne’s hand with slick.

He can’t remember the last time his body felt this good.

And his heart is full, at peace as he holds Wayne against his breast. He’s happy. Steve will be happy, too: happy he was right, and happy that his mama is happy.

That doesn’t stop him from waiting a week before he brings it up.

But then, Steve already knows.

❤️❤️❤️

Right around the same time, just before Halloween of his sophomore year, alphas start sniffing around Steve at school. He might not go to house parties—the very idea of a high school kegger gives him nightmares—but he’s still sporty, still friendly with the popular crowd because of it. And he is, as Ronnie puts it, “Traditionally hot. Like, pretty eyes and a good ass, ya know?”

Amy Martin’s the first one to say anything, asking in the lunch line if Steve wants to go to the movies sometime since she just got her license. Steve mumbles that he’s not allowed to date yet, but thanks anyway. She’s nice enough about it, and doesn’t ask again.

But then Mike Lewenski asks after cornering Steve outside Mundy’s classroom, and he has to be more forceful since Lewenski isn’t that bright. Which becomes Lewenski saying Steve is a bitch to anyone who will listen.

Tommy H. stops Steve on his way to homeroom the next week, loudly asking if there’s something wrong with his pussy, because he knows Mr. Harrington isn’t the kind of hardass to stop Steve from dating. Mrs. O’Donnell overhears and gives Tommy a detention for being crass, and it’s the only thing that stops Steve from decking Tommy.

After that, it seems to become a dare amongst the popular crowd. Get Harrington alone, ask him out, imply he’s either a frigid virgin or a slut with a loose pussy, and laugh when he tells you to fuck off. At least no one else asks him in the cafeteria.

But it’s bad enough that Steve quits the swim team after two weeks of practice.

A week after that, Eddie gets suspended for breaking Dan Shelter’s nose.

[oflorelei]

When I see an actually interesting theory that uses quotes, paragraphs, art credit etc.:

They use the sentence "villains like dany":

[favorite-lie]

recent art

[ratatatastic]

"Aaron, when you almost fell on the ice with the Stanley Cup—" "Oh, Jesus..." "It's s—o stupid..." "—I mean. Yo, and it would've been okay, man! Like, you know what? You'd be like, 'Oh! He's one of us!' you know? Did you catch yourself? Did you feel yourself slipping a little bit? I think it's kind-of heavy, right?" "My theory is: that I stepped on, like—one of those confettis, maybe? That fall from the sky. That's my theory. 'Cuz it was just a little slide then I turn and I was fine. Did you see Barky almost fell on the TV camera cord as well? Did you see that?" "Oh, shit." "Yeah, there's so much stuff on the ice..." "It was right after he took it from Gary [Bettman] and he put it up and he—Well, I mean he didn't fall. He didn't come anywhere close to falling 'cuz he's Jesus on the ice... on those edges he's incredible..."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

nothing delights me more than ekky getting ribbed for being clumsy and instead of just taking it he has to drag sasha down with him XD like oh? i almost fell WELL DID YOU SEE BARKY—girl PIPE DOWN THIS IS ABOUT YOU BABY. BARKY AINT GOT NOTHIN TO DO WITH THIS.

every angle (x)(x) of the almost ekky spill is so funny man and i love to embarrass this man SO FOR THE FOLKS AT HOME ROLL THE CLIP

i think its soooo funny when he says my theory is the confetti sabotaged me 🤓👌 because if you look at the footage

GIRL WHERE. just admit your ankle got weirdly bendy and screeched in after a hard game it happens to the best of us man

also him throwing sasha under the bus especially because i was like huh? sasha almost tripped over a cord? i definitely wouldve noticed that TRUST ME so i looked at the footage to see what he was talking about....

"did you see barky almost fell on the tv camera cord?" (x)

"did you see that?" yeah. did you. did you see the way he didnt not even move at all when he went past it yeah YEAH (x)

me when i lie and want an excuse to not be the only guy thrown under the bus so i bring up a completely nonconsequential annecdote so i can change the narrative of being the only clumsy guy on the ice despite the fact i very much am, and other such things

"hes jesus on the ice" and other normal things to say about your captain while you smile sweetly and reminisce upon him and his amazing skating abilities

[ink--theory]

Carpal tunnel got ya too?

yeah and you got these two pieces of shit mainly to blame! ^_^

[neiptune]

the way atsumu would have the most off putting profile known to man on any dating app......................

[invarietas]

starter for @silentknives !

The last time he'd been so disoriented, a desert had stretched out before him in shades indescribable to one who's never before seen a jewel of such infinite cuts. Had left behind the blade embedded into his body by a boy now fit to be king- a lamb to the slaughter a god had lain an altar for at the dawn of creation; all for a brilliantly dressed man who gazed at him as if he were the Sun Itself.

It's a forest now, and gold alights upon distant smoke- a universal signal flare be it for distress or destruction. Yet for once, it is the ringing silence within internal cacophony that snags his near-complete attention.

His gods... have no influence here.

It seems Bahamut had lost His grip, Ardyn abandoned to a wilderness unknown to any of his memories ( they're all him, or is he theirs? ) and that... was comforting.

A battle seems to have been fought here recently; prone bodies both dead and dying garbed in fairly-bright colours. Red and white on one side... with funny little hats?

There's sound of civilisation nearby, and so it is there he begins to tread. Perhaps would have reached, had a lone woman not been witnessed dropping from the trees. Onto a man. Then the man is no longer a man- but detritus, and Ardyn smiles softly: proud of such stealth, despite not knowing who was guilty of what.

"Mm, I'm sure he'd deserved that in some small measure~." It's nearly a purr, making unwanted commentary something to focus on aside from his confusion. "A terribly intimate way to get rid of someone though..."

[just-absolutely-super]

i hate this time of year

there's threat of more than an inch of snow and my mother is convinced i'll drive off the road and into a ditch when i drive to work

[colorisbyshe]

do you have any tips for someone who's going to their first concert soon?

Sure!

bring ear plugs/protection with you! they make some just for concerts/musicians. i'll be honest, i don't use them myself but... i'm probably losing my hearing at each concert. this is the most 'ymmv' tip i have here.

wear comfy shoes!!!!!!!! i know you wanna look cute but remember you can just... not take pics of your feet when taking Fit Pics. it's okay

look up the bag policy of the venue the day BEFORE you go to make sure you really got it down pat! most places are fairly lax. i tend to bring a purse is comfortable being worn all show, isn't too heavy, but can fit a portable charger, snacks (to be eaten in line, not in venue), my wallet, and nothing more than that

if you're waiting in line a long time, i recommend bringing a disposable water bottle--it tends to be just enough to keep you hydrated but not too much so you have to pee during the show. you likely wont be able to recycle it tho :( rip

i put pain killers in my purse and take them right before doors so i don't get too sore during the show, this is for standing only. if i'm seated, i don't bother. i do also bring pepto tablets (hidden in my wallet) but that's because i'm old and my stomach hates me

if you'er doing standing/general admission/the pit, get in line EARLY. at least 2-3 hours early, sometimes earlier. snacks, water, painkillers are a MUST here. talk to people in line around you, chances are they'll be near you in the crowd! you can form bonds so you can take turns going to the bathroom, buying merch, etc

buying merch: look up if the the venue takes cash or credit. some places are credit only, some are cash only, some both. if unsure, bring both if you want merch.

sometimes stuff sells out before the show starts, sometimes it's not worth buying it beforehand because you have to hold it all show and risk losing your spot if you go buy it. if seated, this is less of a concern.

lining up tip if you're going in a group: if your group isn't arriving together, be aware of some etiquette. if you arrive first and just one friend is joining you, it should be (probably will be okay) if they join you. if you arrive first and MULTIPLE people are joining you, go back to their spot in line. place holders for large groups are rude as hell. try to arrive at the same time tho. maybe get a meal together beforehand so you can arrive together.

drinks at shows are EXPENSIVE AS FUCK... just... not worth it. do with that info what you will. i know some people pregame in line (watched someone chug two coke and vodka bottles in line for CRJ lmao)... i don't. it's not worth it ot me

CHECK THE TICKET APP MULTIPLE TIMES THROUGHOUT THE DAY. ARE YOU LOGGED IN? DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR PASSWORD?

bring a portable charger for your phone--don't need a massive one but taking video saps battery fast

the only other tip that matters is: read the vibe of the crowd. if peopel are being loud and rowdy, be energetic too! if people are being chill, be chill. don't be afraid to assert your boundaries, hold firm posture against peopel who are shoving, but also... don't be the person who requires others to assert THEIR boundaries. just... be considerate

if you need something extra though, communicate! a moment of peopel backing away from you so you can catch your breath or idk clean your glasses can be communicated easily, just ask "hey, just for a second, is okay if i do X." some people might say no, most won't.

i tend to tell the people around me that if they need me to duck down for a certain song/moment to get a pic, they can just tap on my shoulder.you don't hav eto do that though. my point in mentioning that is to just say--people at shows are just... people. they're mostly reasonable and just need to be spoken to if you have any concerns or questions.

that said: if you ahve any more specific questions or concerns that aren't touched on here, lemme know! i love concert talk and won't get to indulge enough (next show is in may boooooo)

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 It's Winterfes and people are partying in the streets. Aurelius saunters past the shops of The Uplift, eyes flitting past rolls of stalls selling toys and treats, with absolute disinterest.

"Hey, watch out!"

"Ack!"

That is, until Some Guy knocks into Some Girl and spills the tray of drinks out of her hands, causing them to splash towards the six-foot man in front of them—

Or not, as the angel freeze-frames the sodas gently in mid-air.

"Get moving," he gestures to the stranger before him.

"Unless your goal was to get splashed all along?"

feeling tipsy @foxfacedd ໒꒱