#THE DEAR ED IN THE SECOND ONE ARE YOU KIDDING ME

[ineffablebrainrot]

HAVE Y’ALL SEEN THIS ??????? HOW HAVE I NOT SEEN ANYONE TALK ABOUT THIS YET?????

edit: oops thought i edited out the bit where i scrolled up to restart the vid OH WELL

[aayakashii]

It seems I haven't quite had my fill of cuteness. So I humbly ask for part 4 of the plushie series with Luca, Ritsu, Zenji, Tohma, and Rui.

It's ok if you don't want to also

The most requested thing!! hehehe |ू´꒳`) I'm really happy you guys like the plushie headcanons, and thanks to the anon who originally requested it a few months ago too!!

Part 1, part 2, part 3

How Tokyo Debunker boys react after receiving a cute little plushie from MC – Luca, Ritsu, Zenji, Tohma, Rui, Ed and Lyca

Lucas Errant – husky plushie

Extremely happy that he is receiving such a thoughtful gift from you!

He never truly allowed himself to play with toys because of his studies, and then came the guilt of losing his brother… Letting himself relax like that barely ever crossed his mind.

So he doesn't really know what to do???

He just perches the cute plushie on his desk and politely greets it whenever he leaves his room and gets back.

He's a bit confused, but he's got the spirit!

Since the husky is always on his desk, it kinda becomes his study buddy really quick too.

Luca ends up reciting his notes to it and reading his books out loud, so it helps him get even better grades (if that's even possible).

He notices this and IMMEDIATELY goes to thank you.

He is 100% sure that you had this crazy elaborate plan to make him get better grades, which is why you made the plushie for him.

Now he’s asking you to maybe make one for Kaito so he stops going to so many remedial classes…

Because he’s denser than a (quickly researches what is the densest rock in the world) peridotite

And doesn’t realize that you gave him a handmade gift because you LIKE him........

He’ll have to ask someone for help after you get upset with him because of this.

Because the husky plushie definitely doesn’t know either and, for some reason, Kaito just refuses to help him!

Cut him some slack… he’s just dense. Like a peridotite.

Shinjo Ritsu – otter plushie

"For me?"

"Yes."

"I believe you are aware that a gift, in the law of property, is the voluntary and immediate transfer of property from one person to another and in order for the it to be legally effective it has to have donative intent, the delivery of the gift to the donee, and the acceptance of the gift."

“Okay...?”

“Therefore I accept the gift.”

“Cool…”

Congratulations, you have just given Ritsu his first official associate.

Or at least this is what he says to himself in his mind.

He was trained to become a lawyer since he was a little kid, so he never thought about playing with toys that much (and his father didn’t push him to do so as well).

But he gotta admit, having a handmade plushie, something his partner (as in business partner! Don’t get him wrong!) made for him exclusively does bring a feeling of joy he never quite felt before.

If anyone so much as THINK about touching his gift, he will be ready to recite the entire constitution, and every single law they broke, AND declare how many years they’ll get in prison just for touching his little otter friend.

He takes things such as private property very seriously after all.

He won’t take the plushie everywhere with him (what about safety?), but he does keep it right next to him in bed when he’s reviewing all the records he made throughout the day.

For a second, he wonders if he could sneak a camera into a plushie and give it to you, but oh no, that would be an invasion of privacy!

Or at least only until he finds a loophole in the law.

Kotodama Zenji – koi plushie

"My dear!!! Oh you truly are the most lovely flower to ever grace this earth! If my heart could still beat, it would be racing for you!!"

You managed to steal a little beaded bracelet artifact, something weak (or at least you hope so), and tied it on the plushie's tail.

And your theory was successful! Zenji could actually touch it, just like he could carry his doll due to its anomalous properties.

To say he’s absolutely SMITTEN with the plushie is an understatement.

He loves anything artistic and knowing that you spent your precious time creating that cute plushie for him makes him so so happy!

WILL carry it everywhere and write ballads about the koi. And poems. And he will read every single myth involving kois and post them on his youtube channel as well (please like and subscribe... PLEASE...)

Haku has the time of his life laughing at Zenji, because now he carries his doll, his biwa AND his plushie everywhere.

If you keep giving him gifts, he might actually need a whole cart to carry everything around him.

The little koi and the doll become his most loyal fans, and his company during nighttime, when everyone’s asleep.

If you see a koi plushie outside your window, don’t freak out. It’s just Zenji watching you sleep again.

He has the habit of calling the doll "his brother" and now he’s gonna call the koi plushie "his dearest".

The two people he cares about the most, right there in his arms: Jiro and you.

Ishibashi Tohma – orca plushie

"Oh? I wonder what made you think I am fit for receiving such an adorable little gift."

Tohma… does not know what to do with the gift you just gave him.

Don’t get him wrong, he appreciates it! Truly. He is mesmerized by the fact that you made a whole orca plushie with your own hands.

But he also doesn’t see how someone as intimidating as him deserves such an adorable gift.

Maybe all those months serving someone else with little appreciation made him forget how it feels to be pampered…

He places the plushie in the vault, right on his desk, and it becomes his companion when he needs to go through paperwork.

Tohma tried giving it a hug once and he got so damn sleepy RIGHT AWAY that now he just pats its head whenever he needs to take a break.

That little thing is dangerous, making him feel so comfortable… He can’t sleep, he’s a busy man! A little headpat to acknowledge the plushie will have to suffice.

However, he still hasn’t tried taking the plushie to his room yet.

He’s quite worried that his sleep will just be filled with dreams about you.

And oh dear... it'd be way too tough to wake up from something pleasant like that.

Mizuki Rui – black bunny plushie

You torture him, being so cute!

A plushie? For him? A black bunny you made with your own hands?!

He wishes he could squish you to death, but that could become quite literal if he actually touched you.

So instead, he squeezes the hell out of the bunny.

Absolutely loves the gift and takes it EVERYWHERE with him.

It basically becomes his bar’s little mascot.

He kisses the bunny’s cheeks every single time he lays his eyes on it. There’s a good morning kiss, a good afternoon kiss, a good evening kiss, plenty of see you later kisses… (he just wishes he was actually kissing you).

Rui will definitely get little accessories for the bunny and maybe even get matching ones for you.

He will also name it some variation of your name and refer to it during conversations as if he was talking about an actual living being.

Lyca and Ed are forced to acknowledge the bunny as their new dorm mate, but won’t let Rui get the bunny its own room because that would be too much!!

Oh, Rui will also buy a bottle of your perfume to spray on the plushie so when he hugs it, it smells like you

What? No, of course that’s not creepy at all, silly! He just loves everything about you, including your perfume!

Edward Hart – ram plushie

Oya, look at what his lovely human brought to him. And you made it yourself? Wonderful.

He has watched plenty of DIY tutorials on youtube, but was always too lazy to go through with them.

Now that he knows you’re skillful with your hands, though? Expect plenty of requests. Maybe do a little bat for him next, what do you think?

The little ram probably becomes the only clean thing in his room, despite Ed holding it all the time when he’s bedrotting.

(That’s because Rui cleans it frequently. He doesn’t want you to think your gift went underappreciated)

And when I say constantly, I mean CONSTANTLY.

Something cute and comfy to hold while he rewatches that 10 hour conspiracy iceberg video for the 5th time? That is exactly what he needs.

He will try to take pictures of the ram watching videos with him for you, but it will be terribly unfocused.

You appreciate the thought despite that!

You don’t appreciate the message he sent though...

"Hello My Dear 😘❗️I Just Had To Show You This 📷❗️Look At How My New Little Friend 🐏 Is Watching Youtube 💻 With Me 🦇❤️ He Just Absolutely Loves ❤️ To Watch ✨️ Conspiracy Videos✨️ With Me 🦇 I Tried Inviting Lyca🐺 Too But He Won’t Reply To My Messages ✉️🚫😢 I Wonder Why 🤔❓️ Please Come Visit Me Anytime 👋🏰🥀 We’d Love To Watch Things With You👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨😘💋"

Lyca Colt – wolf plushie

“What's this?”

“It's a gift for you. I made it.”

“What do I do with it?”

“Um... nothing. You can cuddle it when you sleep, I guess?”

“Hmpft! I'm not a child, I don't need to cuddle things!!”

Don't worry, he thanks you properly after Rui scolds him and tells him to express gratitude when he gets gifts.

He is a little bit rough with it at first, since he never had a toy before, but he quickly gets extremely possessive of it and starts treating the plushie with a lot more care.

He WILL growl and bite if someone tries to take it from him.

Lyca kind of acts like a big brother to his wolf plushie, taking him to his favorite spots and explaining the things he learned to it (he needs to practice after all!)

The plushie becomes a nice reminder of you. Whenever he thinks about doing something he shouldn’t, he looks at the wolf’s beady eyes and thinks of yours as well.

Who would’ve thought this would be such a sure-fire way to make him behave a bit more.

Rui, however, is absolutely exasperated because he just knows that plushie will be another thing that will desperately need washing SOON and Lyca just won’t let him clean it.

Lyca eventually wraps his plushie in his stinky baby blanket (much to Rui’s despair) and cuddles with it to sleep every night.

His dreams become all about you, so don’t worry in case he has a little bit of a hard time looking at you the next day (and a little blush on his cheeks). It’s a little hard to explain!

Full masterlist

[liillyliilly]

mentos and coke-a-cola kuroo tetsurou x reader words; 15706 synopsis: as vice captain of a co-ed intramural team, you found yourself increasingly close to the members of your team. including the witty, loving, captain of yours, kuroo tetsurou.

FROM TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

You think to yourself, how many times did you have to tell Kuroo Tetsurou that you were not in fact his personal gym journal? Sitting at the central table of the university library, you had to quickly set your phone down. Then, you opened your laptop to text him, glad that your laptop blurred photos unless you had clicked on them.

This hadn’t been the first time he’d sent you photos of him. Nor had it been the second. By the eighth time it had become routine, he’d send what he considered the ‘best’ photos from the week to you, and expect detailed analysis and thoughts on the way his joggers hung low on his hips with Calvin Klein underwear showing the brand label boldly.

He always posed without his face showing in the photos. Just glimpses of his chin or cheek in the photos. Even though that had always been your only suggestion for him, just a little more of his face and a little less of the v-shaped muscles near his hips.

Kuroo never understood why the most obvious form of flirting never worked on you. Perhaps it had been because of your systematic desensitization to the possibility that he was trying to overtly make you see him as attractive. Perhaps it was all in his mind. The concept that photos could equate to romance. Or how he began deluding himself into finally overcoming the imposed relationship barriers you had begun building once you joined his recreation team for intramural volleyball at The University of Tokyo.

TO TETSUROU: kuroo put the softcore porn thirst traps away 🤢

FROM TETSUROU: i need your opinion

TO TETSUROU: ??? my opinion? i don’t have an opinion on your abdominal muscles or your back or your arms. I need to STUDY the human ego not your body (my philosophy major homework is kicking my butt right now)

You flit from the message tab on your laptop, opening a pdf copy of your textbook to copy notes from. You just needed to finish two more chapters and then you would drop by Kuroo’s place for dinner. He had invited the whole team, but everyone else said that they couldn’t make it. You had tried to deny his offer, but everyone else in the team said that you should just accept the free food.

The part that you hadn’t known at that time was that there were two group chats related to your volleyball team, Consensual Sets. (The team name had all been Ito’s idea, the setter on your team. Kuroo had strongly suggested Setters of Catan, and you had proposed Block Party. In the end, Ito’s pun won the hearts of the rest of your seven member team.) There was one group chat that had everyone, and another that had everyone but you in the messaging history.

Kuroo had dubbed the secondary chat as his collection of wing-people. But mostly they were unhelpful in actually progressing his romance with you. But this time, the dinner he wanted to have was successfully handled by the other five members. It was simple for the rest of the team to just decline the offer due to fake excuses and then to strongly encourage you to go get food with Kuroo at the end of what had been a long week for you academically.

FROM TETSUROU: you drive me crazy 🤕 (just drop out of philosophy and switch your major, all the cool kids do that my dear confucius)

Kuroo was wiping sweat from his forehead using a towel in his bathroom. Instead of doing cardio at the gym, he had decided to just run back to his apartment on the outskirts of the university. That way he could shower before you’d show up to get food. He still didn’t have an idea about where to take you. There was a fine line between a potential date and forcing you to go to a fancy restaurant against your will. He didn’t want just to go to a drive-through, but then he remembered how much you loved the fries at that one burger shop.

He would always try to make you eat a balanced meal, trying to make your diet secretly better. It was all for your good though, because he was aiming to make you live to be 100 through his secret dietary aids he had been slowly integrating. Hell, you couldn’t even eat pizza without also craving a side salad now because of Kuroo’s insistent nature.

TO TETSUROU: i will forcibly remove my number from your phone pls give me peace of mind and stop acting as a shoulder devil for my future career choices

FROM TETSUROU: you love me really

And you did, you loved him like a best friend. Almost like an overbearing, annoying, childish older brother. But also, as a role model to some degree. If you could call being the captain of your co-ed volleyball recreation league team a role model figure in your life.

It was around thirty minutes later when you finally shoved your laptop into your bag and got onto your electric skateboard to get to Kuroo’s apartment.

Knocking a few times, you had shoved your board under your arm and unclasped your helmet.

He swung the door open with a big smile, “I got Thai. From Suguru’s mom’s restaurant, discounts for friends of that brat.”

You rested your board against the door once you had entered his apartment, removing your helmet and trying to pin down the hairs that had been rustled by your head protection.

You set your helmet down on the coffee table near the entrance, setting your board against the wall unobtrusively, “Suguru’s mom is such a sweetheart, remember when she brought food for our team after our big loss last year?”

Daishou’s mother also bought the team amulets, with Nagas (which you had learned were essentially snakes) surrounding a Buddha for good luck and for protection. Yours hung up in your living room, next to your roommates various other key chains. Before you left the house, you always rubbed the charm. If the luck Daishou’s mom seemed to have was due to the amulet, then there wouldn’t be any harm in trying to get some of it to rub off on you as well.

Kuroo pulls out a chair for you and you sit down proceeding to open some chopsticks. One pair for you, and then you open another for Kuroo, resting the wood utensils onto his plate. He opened the fridge and poured some glasses of water from his Brita.

He smiles to himself when he finally sits down, “We really couldn’t stay sad when we had khao soi and pad kra pao, and that mango sticky rice. I dream about that sticky rice literally every night.”

You agree, accepting the styrofoam box from Kuroo to get some rice and egg onto your dish. Kuroo was busy pouring curry onto his plate.

“It was so sad that we lost last year.” You chew your food, waving your chopsticks around a little in the air, “If only we had gotten more team practice time in, I think we almost could’ve been up to your level Tetsurou.”

Kuroo leans back into his chair, sipping his water, “It would take a lot more than just two practices a week to get everyone on our team last year up to my level. But this year, we might actually have a chance, The Consensual Sets have a lot of connecting people.” He sits forward again, getting some food into his mouth.

“Yeah, I still can’t believe Suguru agreed to join full time instead of just being an alternate! With his regular season on top of our intramural team, he’s gonna be so tired out.” You jab the chopsticks in Kuroo’s direction, emphasizing your point.

“At least he brought us a replacement alternate, Mika is gonna be great to have on the team- even with her lack of skills.”

You roll your eyes, “Mika has skills!”

“Sure.”

The other members of the team had joined Kuroo’s team for a variety of reasons. Ito Yuuta, the setter, joined because he wanted to beat his twin in intramurals this year- and because his friend from high school, Alba, was also on the team. Ito was also the only first year on your team. Alba, a spiker, joined because she needed something outside of her architecture major to keep her extra busy. She was a second year student like you.

Daishou and Mika, who came as a set due to their dating status, joined because Daishou had been convinced by Kuroo to join for fun. You suspected that Kuroo was still carrying some lingering sadness at Kenma not joining the university team, but Kenma was busy with his multi-pursuit endeavors to join a recreation league. Kenma did come to an occasional game to support his best friend though.

Mingzhe, the libero and defensive specialist, was an international student from China. He had joined the team because he was too busy with his Computer Engineering and Science double major to be apart of the regular team. The University had been devastated that Mingzhe denied their offer for him to join. But it only elevated your own team to have such a good player.

The reason you joined? Because you wanted friends. Kuroo had made a poster advertising his desire for people to join a small co-ed volleyball team. You had taken a photo of the poster, went to the open gym time that he had outlined, and the rest became history relatively quickly.

Kuroo hadn’t been captain last year though, it was a collection of older fourth and third years who made the team. All of whom were in the sports marketing major with Kuroo. But they weren’t really playing the game for the love of the sport, but rather for extra credit from their professors. The old team name had simply been ‘Extra Credit for Prof. Singh’s Sports Marketing 5910 Special Study Course’ but it was always shortened to ‘Special Study Kids’ on the excel spreadsheets that listed out opponents and playing time.

Kuroo had shifted the narrative, he wanted this year’s team to be for fun- genuine fun and love for volleyball. And you had found yourself enjoying playing, even though you were sharing a position with Kuroo who scared you with his ability to read the opponents. But Kuroo always told you that without your support blocks, then his own blocks wouldn’t work most of the time. That had been a major ego-boost.

He knew how to do that for a lot of people, you recall. Kuroo could make people feel special, feel seen, without having to do much except for just show off his sincere love for people. A person like him was rare to find even once in life, so you wanted to stick around him for a long time. (Even if Kuroo got onto your nerves, he balanced out his provocations with kindness.)

“Thanks for the food, I can’t believe everyone else said no to free food at your expense.” You pat your stomach, rolling your shoulders a little to get comfortable in the metal chairs Kuroo had.

“It’s no problem. What do you have planned for the rest of this month?”

Pursing your lips, you try to recall your schedule.

“Besides our two-a-weeks, games, and classes, I don’t have much else going on in September.”

“Do you want to come watch a game then?” Kuroo grabs your plate, starting the sink faucet, you grab a towel to dry off the two plates. He tries to bump you away with his hip, but you resist and narrow your eyes. He yields and hands you a cleaned dish to dry.

“Is it the game you were talking about at practice? The reunion game?” You set the ceramic dish onto the shelf, waiting for Kuroo to hand you the other plate to dry.

“Yeah, it’s a bunch of my buddies from high school, we wanted to play a game before some of our pals leave for other countries to play professionally. Remember Bokuto? I mentioned him a few times.”

“The owl furry guy?”

Kuroo chuckles, turning around and leaning against the sink to watch you put the other plate away onto the cupboard shelf. “Yes, the owl guy. And Kenma will be playing, and Akaashi, and Fukunaga, and Kai, and-”

“I think I get it. A Nekoma versus Fukurodani game?” You suggest.

You had met Fukunaga once before, when Kuroo took the team to a comedy show of his the day before a match some time ago. Fukunaga’s set had been so hilarious that you asked Kuroo to personally introduce you to the comedian. Kuroo had been hesitant, for reasons unknown to you, but ultimately gave in to you and introduced the pair of you.

Fukunaga had taken one look at you and immediately pointed out what he liked about you. Which made you laugh, Kuroo hadn’t been entertained by that joke though. His reaction had been furrowed eyebrows, a huff, and defensively folding his arms- you had pointed out how overly dramatic Kuroo could be sometimes. Fukunaga had just smiled and shook his head.

Kuroo clarifies about the game, “More like a Nekoma versus an agglomeration of other high schools. Hinata, this crazy little dude, and my protege Tsukishima will play with Akaashi and Bokuto.”

“Okay, I’ll bite, I’m in.”

He had texted you the details of where to go, when to be there, and what color to wear to show your support for Kuroo’s team. You had been tempted to wear anything but the red and black combo he asked you to wear, but in the end, you wanted to be a good friend and wore what he asked you to wear.

The game was intense, to say the least. A lot more yelling and commands came from Kuroo than you had seen during your own games. It was nearing the end of September, and instead of studying for an exam, you were here in a gym watching a group of cohorts from the Volleyball World of High Schoolers play to their heart’s contentment.

You screamed when Kuroo got a good block, and you remained quiet when the opposing team scored a point. One of the things you noticed was how much higher they had made the net. In the intramural league, the net was at least a few centimeters shorter than the one they were playing with.

The tall blonde made a face at Kuroo through the net, and you almost found yourself laughing at how Kuroo teased him back. A ginger with the jumping power of a kangaroo kept making the most insane plays you had ever seen, keeping you on the edge of your seat for most of the game.

Ultimately, the Nekoma reunion team takes the win. You could see Kenma’s sour expression from where you had been sitting. Kenma immediately went to sit on the bench to play on his nintendo when the rest of his team was clapping each other on the backs.

Kuroo waved you over, face beaming.

When he pulls you in for a hug, you realize your hands get wet, soaked, not even a little damp but instead dripping wet. But he keeps his arms tightly around your waist. It wasn’t one of the usual hugs you exchanged with him, where your arms crossed around his chest and he did the same. In this hug, he had wrapped both arms around your waist, which made you wrap neatly into his chest.

"Your jersey is soaked, did they pour water over you Tetsurou?" You chuckle a little, talking into his body almost.

"Nope. This is all homemade sweat."

You pull away from the hug, wiping your hands on your thighs. Only to realize that your red shirt is soaked through the front as well, an imprint of his body outline on yours. You grimace, knowing that you now smell heavily of a unique perfume you’d dub ‘Kuroo après le match de volley’.

Kuroo shrugs, then wraps his arms around you again, which earns him a groan from you.

"You love me really."

You don’t say anything in response, letting him have his moment.

The post-game dinner was fun, even if you did have to complain to Kuroo about him buying your food for you. He had been too insistent about paying, even secretly paying for you when you went to the restroom.

“You took the train, yeah?” Kuroo asks once you exit the restaurant.

“Yep.”

Nighttime on the bullet train in Tokyo back to the university was always your favorite. Being able to stuff your ears full of music while you watch the passing scenery had such a hold over your emotional well-being. During train rides like that you thought maybe you could study Ralph Waldo Emerson again. But then you push away the thought because you remembered how much of an annoyance you found reading his pieces. You would always prefer Thoreau to Emerson at the end of the day when talking about the Transcendentalist Movement.

Kuroo nods, yelling out, “Kenma, I’m gonna take the train, you’re good to head back to your house! Text you later!” He waves enthusiastically to Kenma, who just throws a thumbs-up in regard to Kuroo’s statement.

The walk is mostly silent, with hands brushing against each other. The train station is vaguely busy. Kuroo had changed into some joggers and a loose t-shirt that had a neckline that was a little too stretched out so you could see his collarbones and the start of his chest. The design of the shirt was a logo for a cologne brand, with cursive writing.

While waiting for the train, you kicked your feet against the pavement a little, listening to Kuroo talk about the game and his favorite moments. His passion for volleyball was clear, but it just wasn’t the only thing Kuroo wanted to do for the rest of his life. His love for teaching other people, and helping others achieve their own passion outweighed his personal feelings. He just had a heart so open and willing to help others, that the blurred lines of what he loved and what others loved had become interwoven.

His belief of lowering the net for others, that helping aspect of his personality shone through with your recreation team. Although it was a casual team, it also meant so much more to everyone because Kuroo’s appreciation and understanding for the volleyball essentials and foundations made everyone want to do better. Made everyone want to play volleyball.

The train roared in, and you lifted your head, going to stand near the yellow painted lines where the door would be near. You turned around, and Kuroo was still standing fairly far away.

“Tetsurou?” You held your hand out for him to take, an effort to urge him to wait nearby with you.

Kuroo freezes. In his mind, his slightly exhausted mind that had lowered inhibitions from physically exerting himself with the game earlier, the two options were to grab your hand or to play around with you. He let his teasing, flirtatious, scheming personality win out over his shyness and earnest kindness.

He bent down, and rested his chin in the palm of your hand, so you had ended up squishing his face slightly. Once you realized that it was his face in your hand, you tried to tug your hand away with a laugh and with your tongue peeking out between your teeth as you bit down on it.

Kuroo didn’t know how to stop when he was ahead. He used his hand to grab a hold of your wrist. Then he gently bit down on the space between your pointer finger and thumb, pressing a kiss to the skin immediately after. And he would’ve continued with the affectionate kisses to your hand, but you swallowed thickly and your fingers began to twitch.

You couldn’t comprehend why you had wanted him to keep going. It was knotting your stomach, and turning the gears in your brain.

He stood up properly, noticing how the train had stopped. He slid a hand into your hand that was still outstretched and stunned from his actions, “The train won’t wait for us, c’mon Confucious.”

That night, you had spent a lot of time looking up onto your ceiling. Tapping your tummy to make little songs as you run through the day you had experienced over and over again.

Your phone dings.

FROM TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

FROM TETSUROU: thanks for coming to the game! hope you had a good time watching. kenma got photos of us celebrating after nekoma grad team won

FROM TETSUROU: im really glad you wore red

Kuroo’s head is resting on his pillow, the light of his phone shining on his face as he lays on his bed in the dark. He can feel his palms sweating, and he keeps shoving his face into the pillow before taking a peek at his phone again. Under the blankets, his feet keep bouncing from the mattress as he fights against what feels like hypertension in his blood. You still hadn’t responded to his messages.

You looked at your phone for a moment, your eyes slightly static and blurry. You read his messages, trying to think of what to say. Your red shirt lays in your dirty clothes basket, and a grin starts to make your face hurt.

FROM TETSUROU: i think i love you

FROM TETSUROU: i love you a lot

FROM TETSUROU: do you think you could love me back?

FROM TETSUROU: UNSENT THREE MESSAGES

You look at the notification that tells you Kuroo unsent texts that you hadn’t got the chance to read. You shrug, responding to the messages you did get a chance to read.

TO TETSUROU: the game was so much fun! wearing red for you was also fun, i felt like a cheerleader lowkey- i mean you should’ve seen some of the looks i got from this grandma who clearly just wanted to watch the game lol after the game tho! she said it was nice to see young people cheering so passionately so i guess her dirty looks were all in my mind

FROM TETSUROU: that’s hilarious- whose granny was it tho 💀

TO TETSUROU: no idea but she really liked you 🫣

FROM TETSUROU: 😐

TO TETSUROU: i’ll see you at practice next saturday! goodnight tetsurou, sleep well

FROM TETSUROU: goodnight ♥️

FROM TETSUROU: UNSENT ONE MESSAGE

FROM TETSUROU: goodnight confucius 🙂

The first Saturday of October was a practice for the members of Consensual Sets. You were busy tossing serves over the net for Mingzhe to receive. Alba was jumping on Ito’s shoulders as she asked him repeatedly to let her tape up his fingers this time. Daishou and Mika were tugging on their knee pads, and when Mika started pouting at the way her nails got tugged by the fabric, Daishou knelt in front of her and pulled the pads up where they belonged with a huge smile as he looked up at her.

Daishou and Mingzhe wanted to do some quick laps outside, but you wanted to warm up by doing some flying dives. While the flying dives did hurt your elbows from impact catching your weight, they made for great practice to get you better prepared for your back row position duties. Alba finally got to tape up Ito’s fingers as he looked terrified at giving her the tape he used.

Mika decided to stretch out, only really getting ready to hit some serves for the rest of the team today. Her role as a support, and as an alternate wasn’t needed for most games, but in case of emergency, at least she had created a weapon for herself with that nasty jump float that makes you chew the inside of your mouth.

Fifteen minutes into the practice, when everyone was done warming up and getting water, you looked around the gym. The only other people here were a group of basketball guys playing a game of pick-up on the other end of the courts away from where you’d set up the net. You were the first one to notice a lack of one particular person.

“Does anyone know where Tetsurou is?” You ask, going over the bench were Mingzhe was meditating.

Ito shrugged, “Maybe he couldn’t make it today?”

Alba rests her chin on Ito’s shoulder, commenting, “Perhaps he’s sick? Our fearless leader lost to the measly germs of society. Damn it, I curse the bloodline of those germs.” She dramatically clenches her first and Ito tries to hide an amused smile on his face.

“I’ll text him, I’m sure he’s just running late.” Daishou says, accepting his phone from Mika.

You, as vice captain of the team, decide the best course of action is to start running some drills. 10 spikes, 10 serves, 10 receives, and then 10 blocks. Each person alternated the roles until everyones did their 10x4 drill.

Even after the drill, Kuroo still hadn’t shown up.

“Suguru, any sign of Tetsurou?” You question, getting some water.

Mingzhe, looking nearly sweatless and unaffected by the drills, is still meditating in the center of the court. Alba tried waving her hand in front of his face. But Mingzhe opened one eye right when she started making a face- which caused her to jump back in alarm. Ito audibly laughed at that exchange while adjusting his taped fingers, away from where Alba could see so that he didn’t hurt her feelings.

“He said he can’t make it, something about a presentation for a class of his, apparently it slipped his mind. But he did send me a list of what we should do today. Let’s go for two miles outside!” Daishou shouted out the instruction to the rest of the team, then patted you on the shoulder. “Don’t worry so much, Tetsu would let you know if something happened to him. I think you’d be the first to know if he got hurt or sick or something. Trust him.”

After practice, you make your way to Kuroo’s building, the one where all his classes were held.

You scanned your badge and entered the building, appreciating the cool sports poster that Kuroo’s department had covering the walls. Tall posters of soccer players, basketball players, and even some table tennis players. The coolest one was a blue poster where a soccer player had altered edited eyes to seem like they shined gold, and there was a huge skeleton behind them making the player look imposing and strong. You snuck a photo of the poster, then shoved your phone back into your pocket.

The weight of the spam musubi you got for Kuroo, and the two cold banana drinks made your bag feel heftier than usual. In reality, the actual tangible weight didn’t affect anything. You just felt strange being in a building that wasn’t your own.

And you’d been thinking about Kuroo again. More specifically, the way he’d bitten and then kissed your hand. You felt your throat swallow thickly as your brain flashed images of what it might have been like if he had bitten and kissed elsewhere on your body. Of course, Kuroo had done it as a tease, a little game, you reason.

But why did your heart begin to stutter when you found him sitting in a niche, his hand in his hair as he scrolled through his laptop? He looked exhausted, and slightly upset. He was bouncing his leg, his knee hitting the top of the table occasionally.

You slid into the alcove opposite of Kuroo, pulling out the treats you got for him.

“Tetsurou, take a quick break.” You shoved the musubi and drink in his direction.

Kuroo shut his laptop, then looked from the food to your face then back to the food. He covered his face in his hands as he propped his elbows onto the table. His words were muffled by his hands, “Thank you.”

You reached out and touched his forearm, “It’s no problem, eat up.”

He tried to split the spam musubi but you shook your head, holding your hand up to deny him. He gave a downturned smile as he bit into the sustenance. He let out a hum, “This is really good, this is just what I needed.”

Sipping on the banana drink, you rested your foot overtop of his under the table.

“How did the presentation go?” You purse your lips, trying to give Kuroo your best hopeful look.

Kurooo grimaced a little, “Professor Singh said it needed some more work.”

“What was the grade?” You prepared yourself for the worst. That Kuroo failed and would need to disband the team that you’d grown so attached to. And your next game was in three weeks, at the end of October too.

“Oh he gave me full credit, said it was the best he’s seen this year. But if I want it to be my thesis project for senior year next year, then it would need more tuning. Then he proceeded to give me a list of corrections to make.” He pulled out a sheet of paper that was bulleted, Kuroo gave it to you to read and you started feeling bad for him.

He finished off the musubi, then rubbed his eyes, his reading glasses pushed up onto the top of his head in the process, “This isn’t even half of the things that need to be fixed. Professor Singh said he’d help me though, so it’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

“Still, I’m sorry, that’s rough.” You suck in some air through your teeth, and click your tongue just barely, “I’m sorry.”

Kuroo waves his hand to diffuse the air between you two.

He rolls the sleeves of his white button up down, the arms are wrinkled, and he undoes the top button of his shirt, releasing his throat a little so he can relax into his spot. Kuroo sets his head on the table, his hand on the bottled drink you had gotten him, he rocks the bottle around in circles, the liquid sloshing inside.

You bite the inside of your mouth, racking your brain to look for anything that could possibly ease Kuroo’s contemplations.

“Did you still want to try my electric skateboard out?”

Kuroo jolts up, sitting with his back straight.

“Hell yes. Please teach me.” He holds his hands flat together in front of his face in what you recognized as some kind of prayer posturing.

“Okay, my dorm is just a few miles away, let’s head out.” You pull your backpack over your shoulders as Kuroo tucks his laptop into the shoulder bag he has.

For a moment, you fight against the urge to hold your hand out for him to take.

When you do end up holding your hand out, ready to accept his, Kuroo wipes his hand against his thigh discreetly before he rushes to grab a hold of your hand. His hand is bigger than yours, more rough, but it’s warm and comforting with the way that he intertwines your fingers with his. He swings your connected hands back and forth as he starts talking about the upcoming game, and how he’ll go into the gym with Daishou to join in on Daishou’s regular practices with the university volleyball team tomorrow.

Kuroo was not built for your skateboard, but he had fun trying to balance on it as you tried to support him with hands on his waist.

“I’m ticklish there.” He feels his stomach tighten when you squeeze his sides.

“Blah, I’m trying to prevent you from eating dirt. I can’t hold you by the shoulders since you’re too tall standing on the board.” You explain, keeping one foot on the back of the board to keep it from moving too much as Kuroo wiggles around trying to find a balance.

You probably spent two hours trying to get him to actually start the board up and go further than a few strides away from you. But in the end, he could successfully circle around you without your hands supporting him. Alba and Ito came around to the part of the campus you and Kuroo were occupying.

Alba jumped up and down as Ito covered his ears, awaiting Alba’s yells to call for attention. She was tossing up a Mikasa volleyball, and Ito had a Molten under his arm.

“Let’s play two versus two since Kuroo couldn’t be bothered to come to practice today.” Alba lifted a hand up and spiked the ball in your direction, and you received the ball with ease as you dropped your hips and crouched down. Kuroo caught the ball you had dug out, spinning it in on a fingertip before just palming the ball with one hand.

Ito rolled his eyes and rolled his shoulder, “Not today, it’s almost dark out.”

Alba took her ball from Kuroo, trying to balance it on her head.

“What does our gorgeous vice captain have to say then? Let her decide, my absolute queen.” Alba blows a kiss in your direction, which you fake catch with one hand before pressing your palm to your heart and playfully, although also impishly, sighing deeply.

You glance at Kuroo’s expectant eyes, he adjusted his shoulder bag again. He was still in his dressy presentation clothes.

“Maybe next time, it’s been a long day, my legs are jello and my arms are sore.” You complain lightly, “But Alba, maybe Ito wants to play DIG 2000 on the computer with you?”

Ito smiled, DIG 2000 was a simulation game similar to the FIFA 23 sports video game. Alba nodded, bouncing the volleyball on her head a few times before turning to Ito, “Let’s go back to yours then.”

Ito copied Alba, bouncing the volleyball with his foot instead of head, and nodded, “Sounds good.”

The pair walked off, Alba talking excitedly and Ito listening intently.

Kuroo walked to stand close by you, holding your skateboard in his hand.

“If they don’t start dating, I don’t think I’ll ever believe in love.” He jokes.

You raise an eyebrow, “Really? But you love all people, you got that big heart behind all the muscle. I find it hard to believe that you need proof of romantic love to believe in love at all.” You think about Plato’s symposium which defined love as two people becoming one through a connection and Aristotle's emphasis on philia, the platonic love between friends.

Western love philosophy had always been rooted in two main branches of thought, the classical beliefs of the ancients such as Plato and then the French Skepticism that believed love was a guise for sexual fulfillment.

You noted that you’d have to thank your professor for their in depth analysis about the Love Unit your class had covered earlier in the year. Clearly, more than you realized had stuck into your brain.

Kuroo starts walking back to your dorm, you trailing after him.

“I think that love can be found in all things, but I was more so thinking about Alba and Ito you know? Like, if I see two people like them, who are clearly compatible, then it feels wrong when they don’t become more than just friends. When clearly, like, they’d be brilliant together. The way they bounce off each other for example,” Kuroo focuses his eyes straight ahead, knowing that you’re looking at him with those bright and curious eyes he’d fallen for- knowing that he’d be powerless to look away once he locked eyes with you.

Kuroo continues, “I mean, Ito takes such good care of Alba, and she doesn’t even realize that she reciprocates naturally sometimes. Like all the times she asks to tape his fingers before a game or practice, and he reluctantly lets her? Then he proceeds to fix the tape when he knows she isn’t looking. That’s love.” You can hear the sigh he lets out with his concluding statement.

You take your board back from Kuroo, playing with one of the wheels as you bump your hip into his for a moment, then you give your two cents to the discussion.

“But does that mean they need to be romantically involved? If we’re using our friends as examples, then I’d like to point out Daishou and Mika. Or even Mingzhe as an example. When we see Daishou and Mika, it is very blatant that they’re in love. They equally fawn over each other, they kiss, they feel that physical pull. When we look at Ito and Alba, they never cross that physical boundary. I think that love has a physical element to it as well as emotional. I think they might just love each other as best friends.”

Kuroo swallows, puffing out his cheeks for a second. If you believed that love needed a physical element, then why did you initiate touch with him just as frequently as he did with you? He wasn’t so egotistical to believe that you were hiding feelings from him, but it was a unique argument to think about in his head. He feels the heat in his cheeks and his ears, he’d kissed you before. Albeit, on the hand, but it had been a kiss. You’d let him cross a boundary that he wasn’t sure even existed between you two.

If the kiss had been anywhere else, would you have let him press his lips so tenderly and longingly the way he did? Would you have pushed him away? Would you’ve made a disgusted look? Would you reciprocate, kissing him back?

He’d known you for two years now, and he wasn’t sure about anything besides the fact that he wanted you to stick around him for as long as possible. For eternity if possible. For infinity, if it existed. He wanted that physical element though too, to hold and kiss you. To bite your earlobe, to scratch your back, to hold the back of your knee as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh.

He releases a breath, looking at the space between your eyebrows rather than your eyes.

“What about the innocent kind of love? Love shared between kids for example, they don’t necessarily cross that physical boundary you talk about. But you know when two kids love each other. It isn’t just that physical element that adds to the definition of love, it’s simply the feeling shared equally between two people. It isn’t just friendship, but it’s clearly love.”

“I don’t know. That’s a good point though. There’s definitely nuance, and I think I might have philosophized myself into a corner here.” You laugh, smiling at Kuroo.

The layers to this conversation had begun to hurt your head. Philosophy was much easier when it was sitting behind a desk, at your laptop. Philosophy was harder when it seemed like Kuroo was pressing you for answers, for your thoughts rather than a structured argumentative essay with dozens of academic pieces of evidence.

At the end of October was a selection of games to be played all Friday evening. All the intramural recreation teams were at the large gym of the university, and the Consensual Sets put on the team shirts made by Mingzhe. They were a dark grey, with the team name printed on the front, and everyone’s nicknames on the back of the jersey style top.

Kuroo just had Tetsu on the back of his. Mingzhe had put his name in a simple cursive, Alba and Ito swapped names for fun. Daishou had his full first name, and Mika put Mika-Mika as her name. As for you, you put Confucius on the back of your jersey, grateful that Kuroo had given you a nickname that actually suited your personality.

After winning the first two games, you found yourself playing against another team that had been undefeated for the entire intramural season thus far.

It was halfway through the second set, and you were exhausted. But just one more rotation before Kuroo would be back to the front with you and your killer duo block could be utilized for a perfect angle.

When Kuroo would twist his body to the side, and you’d barely skim the ball so that the spiker would be forced to send the ball straight to the libero, Mingzhe. Mingzhe had the freaky ability to reign in the ball and get it to Ito without Ito needing to move too much. Ito would then, of course, set the ball right to Daishou or Alba, depending on who would have a better shot at scoring that moment.

However, in this current rotation, you were on the end of the front row, with Ito in the center of the front. Kuroo was behind you on the back row, Mingzhe on the far back corner. Daishou was on the other side of Ito. Everyone was ready to play. You could hear Alba from the back next to Mingzhe, getting after him for not wiping the sweat off his shoes. Mika was busy refilling bottles, but still ready to swap Alba or Mingzhe if needed.

“Chance ball!” You call out, getting ready to jump up for a block. But at the same moment, Ito shifted his body to try and set the ball that Alba had received. He just happened to get a little too close. So that when he was backing up and jumping to get a touch onto the volleyball, he slammed into you.

Hitting the ground with a thud, you felt the air get knocked out of you. And once you could feel the force your back had slammed into the gym floor, the combination of painful sensations was just too much and you choked out a sound of anguish. Tears were streaming down the side of your face as you were gasping for air, but ultimately just choking on your empty lungs.

“Idiot!” Kuroo shoved Ito, knocking Ito into the net. Ito held his hands up defensively, but understood the reaction Kuroo had had. The referee called an emergency time out, and called over the nurse. Kuroo had picked you up, making you sit up. His hand was rubbing your back, telling you what to do.

Ito tried to go over to you as well, but Alba had grabbed the back of his shirt and gave a look to Ito by directing his eyes to where Kuroo was holding you. She mouthed something that you couldn’t distinguish. But then again, you couldn’t distinguish much due to the panic state you found in perpetual motion within your cells.

“Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.” Kuroo’s jaw was clenched, and his other hand was on your thigh. You kept trying to inhale through your mouth though, your body nervously reacting to the lack of oxygen. “Listen to me, c’mon, please, just relax okay. You’re safe, I got you. Just relax.”

The nurse arrived with a first aid kit, but once she saw how Kuroo was following standard protocol for an injury like this, she left the kit for Kuroo to use. He said a quick thanks, and the nurse went to go check on some other college student who had blood dripping from his mouth. The bloody kid was holding up a tooth and his teammates were clapping him on the back.

Kuroo tilted his head up and called out to where Mika was filling up bottles near the back of the gym, “Mika, can I get a water bottle over here?”

Daishou ran over to Mika, picking one up and running back over to Kuroo and you. He handed the bottle to you and crouched down on the other side of you.

You had taken a sip of the water, and your breathing was normal again, and the only concern was the pain in your mid to low back.

“You took quite a fall there, Confucius.” Kuroo brought his hand up from your back to caress your head, soothing you.

Daishou chuckled, sitting down, and stretching his legs out. But he scrambled to get back up when Mika asked for his help carrying all the other water bottles over to the Consensual Sets break bench.

Ito was busy sulking over on the bench, getting chewed out by Alba and Mingzhe for not listening to your call of ‘chance ball’. In that scenario, Ito was supposed to wait until after the rally went back over to the other team instead of trying to catch the ball to set it.

Ito was just awaiting when the true test of his spirit would be put through the wringer. That of course would be the eventual moment when he was on the receiving end of Kuroo’s fury.

Everyone on the team knew, if you were at the center of an issue, Kuroo would ultimately be there resolving it. Usually you never get too injured, it was just supposed to be a casual intramural team, but the seven members of Consensual Sets had grown into a tightly knit friend group who really wanted to chase down the championship at The University of Tokyo.

That did put some more strain on the level of ability everyone had, and the intensity of which Ito had been aiming to score just another point. But it also reminded everyone, you getting hurt, that this was a casual team. There was nothing to be gained except for a fun time and some good stories to tell.

Kuroo was glad that you hadn’t landed too badly, he’d be much more angry at Ito if you would’ve landed on your head or your bad knee that hadn’t healed up all the way from the sprain you got a few weeks ago. Now, Kuroo tried to focus on keeping his heart rate down so you wouldn’t be able to hear it pounding in his chest.

Completely aware of his own protectiveness for you, Kuroo had been the first one to react to the collision between you and Ito. He’d always been the first one to make sure you were okay. And he wanted to keep it that way.

You decide that you want to get back into the game, leveraging your hand against Kuroo’s shoulder, “We still have to finish the set, we’re ahead by three. Just five more points and we win.” You tried to stand up, only to get dizzy and stumble back. Kuroo caught you again, bringing you back to the ground to sit in between his legs so he could hug you from behind.

“Yeah, no. We’re gonna have to cancel this match for a different day.” He rubs his thumb over your elbow, trying to ease the bruise that was forming there.

You spin your head around to face Kuroo. He can feel the way his Adam’s apple bobs at your face being so close to his.

“Yeah, no, trade Mika in for me. Let’s finish the game.” You pouted a little, and Kuroo could only roll his eyes in response. He never could say no to you indefinitely. He did make you finish the water bottle before he would let the game resume with Mika’s substitution in your place.

And the game does get finished, a sequential five points with Kuroo getting a block kill for the winning point. He had made you sit on the bench, wrapped in his blue Nike windbreaker.

Everyone, except for Daishou and Mika who rode to the gym on her motorcycle, piled into Kuroo’s Toyota Sienna minivan. You sat in the passenger’s seat, as usual, and Ito was relegated to the very back of the car with Alba sprawled out trying to take a nap. Mingzhe enjoys the silence of the middle row all to himself, adjusting the temperature to be freezing. You rest your head on the window, looking outside at the busy streets.

“Who’s getting dropped off first?” Kuroo hands you the collection of semi-final medals, an award for making it to the top four teams. The finals would be in three weeks, and you fully intended to take the championship trophy home.

“I live the furthest away, so you can work your way towards your apartment if you drop me off first.” You say, putting the medals into your duffel bag. You’d pass them out at team practice in a few days.

Alba sits up, and Ito’s relieved to have her legs off of his thighs.

“I have to work early, like super early tomorrow morning. Drop me off first please.” Alba announces, poking her head next to Mingzhe’s seat so that she can have Kuroo hear her better.

You groan, “Alba you live the furthest from me, Tetsurou would have to go back and forth to drop me off second.”

Ito raises his hand, inserting himself into the discussion, “Yeah, but I live closer to Alba, and so does Mingzhe. Kuroo can just go to the East Campus first, and then drop you off last.”

Kuroo grins, “Sounds like we have a winning plan. Alba, Ito, Mingzhe, and then you, Confucius.”

The engine starts, and Kuroo double checks the GPS before merging onto the main street highway.

“I still think it’s illogical to go past your house to drop everyone off, then go past your house again to drop me off.”

“Just stay the night at mine then?” Kuroo says, keeping his eyes on the road fully, not even considering glancing in your direction for worry of getting seen right through by your perceptive instincts.

Alba bites down on her lips, squeezing Ito’s arm in anticipation for what will unfold. Ito tries to push her off, but she just holds on tighter.

Mingzhe is too busy swiping through his Tinder to pay attention, but he’s passively listening in on what you could possibly say in response. Mingzhe needed to find a date for the Chinese cultural exchange event the school would be having, and you had to hear about how all his potential dates were just not up to his par. The exchange event would be a few days before the Intramural Finals.

You think for a moment, it would save Kuroo a fifteen minute drive in the bad traffic. And anything to avoid the traffic of an evening rush would be best, especially since Kuroo was bad at estimating when he’d need to buy gas again. If you stayed at his place, then you would have a ride to your early morning Saturday class without having to ride the bus onto campus. In addition, you’d get free breakfast since you knew Kuroo liked to make big meals in the morning.

“I’ll get a ride into school yeah?”

“Yeah. I have a class at the same time you do tomorrow.” He lied. His earliest class would be two hours after your class.

“Then I guess so. You got an extra toothbrush?”

“Dozens.”

Kuroo’s apartment smelt like him. But in an unfiltered, undiluted way. You inspected some photos that he had around, but you were more interested in the calendar he had posted on his fridge.

He had everyone’s birthdays written down on a notes section of the entire year overview calendar. Your birthday was circled multiple times, and the entire week before and during your birthday had been highlighted bright yellow. He had already started brainstorming ideas about what to get you, and had a few sticky notes on the fridge listing things.

You noted some books you had mentioned, a website address of what you identified as a custom volleyball brand with a drawing of a volleyball Kuroo had done, a bunch of question marks around his note of matching hoodies, and then a heart around the words ‘ring’ and ‘house key’.

Kuroo saw the way you honed into his fridge and tried to pull you away, “You’re spoiling your surprises.”

You folded your arms, “I don’t like surprises.”

“Fine then, you’re spoiling my surprises. I get you things, and my reward for doing so is seeing your reactions.”

You waved a hand, dismissing him. He had told you that the toothbrushes were under his sink.

While you were in the bathroom, brushing teeth and then taking a shower, Kuroo quickly cleaned areas of his apartment that you might meander into. Once he was satisfied with the cleanliness, he tried to remember how to set up his pullout couch.

Changing into your backup sweatpants and the loaned Nike sweatshirt had given you in tandem with his windbreaker, you hugged yourself to embrace the soft fleece that was coating your skin.

Once you saw the pullout couch, with a pile of folded blankets on top of a grey pillow, you started to make the bed. Unfurling the blankets and slightly fluffing the pillow. Before crawling under the blankets, you decided to scroll on your phone for a minute, setting alarms for the morning and responding to some texts from your friends and teammates about today.

“What are you doing?” Kuroo had changed into shorts and an oversized shirt that he tucked slightly into the waistband of his shorts.

“Texting?” You answer.

“No, what are you doing sitting on the couch?” Kuroo was holding a pillow from his bedroom, the one he used to press against the side of his head. (Also the one that had caused his incessant case of bedhead spiky hair.)

You uncross your legs, dangling them over the edge of the couch, “I’m sleeping on the pullout couch?”

Kuroo tosses his pillow onto the couch, crawling under the blankets you had set up. When he pulled the blankets over his shoulder, you were tugged back a little. In response, you just stood up and went around to kneel in front of Kuroo, attempting to make eye contact.

“Where do I sleep?”

He reaches his arm out and pats the space next to him.

“No.”

He sighs, rolling onto his back as he brings his hands behind his head. The obvious flex he does in his biceps from the way his shirt sleeve rolls down does not go unnoticed by you.

“Then I guess you’re sleeping in my bed then, first door on the right. Goodnight.” He immediately covered his head with his two pillows.

You tried to pull one of them away from Kuroo, but his grip was stronger than your slight strain to jerk the pillow out of his grasp.

“You win this time. But next time, I will take my rightful spot on the pullout couch.”

Kuroo mimics you, imitating a high tone, his voice is muffled by his pillow barriers around his face. You stick your tongue out at him even though he can’t see it.

At least his bed was comfortable, and cold. Cotton sheets that definitely had to be a higher thread count than your own, and he left you with only one pillow. He had a few plushies from all the times the pair of you went to a big box store to buy groceries, and instead of buying bananas or a fresh watermelon, he’d spend his money on collecting an array of large stuffed animals.

You had asked him once about why he bought them. He just said because they were cool to have around his place. In reality though, you had gone through his phone once, when he was going through yours for fun trying to find dirt or juicy gossip, and you found out the truth about his assortment of plushies. You went to his notes app and only found a list of things he wanted to buy for his future kids, and a list of maybe fifteen stuffed animals was at the top. He’d already crossed off around ten of them, so he needed only five more to complete the collection he wanted to curate.

It was a cute sentiment that he had, thinking about his future children so soon. Which is why for his upcoming birthday, in a few weeks, the same day as the final for the intramural championship, you had three stuffed animals in a bag in your closet to give to him to celebrate the eventual win.

Kuroo looked through his phone, spending some time watching volleyball videos before going to sleep. He was also biding his time, wanting to check in on you before he fully went to sleep. He just wanted to make sure you were sleeping well before he let himself sleep. His phone beeped, once and then twice.

FROM SUGURU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

FROM SUGURU: got some good photos of you and our dear vice captain, say thanks to me, mika 💖, and mingzhe for actually CAPTURING the way you are so sickly deadly embarrassingly openly precisely adoringly obsessively entirely fervently passionately feverishly restlessly frantically FREAKING HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE with her

TO SUGURU: 🖕

TO SUGURU: she looks good in the photos

FROM SUGURU: i feel ill thinking about what your plan with these photos is now 😟

TO SUGURU: exposing your rough drafts for proposing to mika in the gc RIGHT NOW

FROM SUGURU: I’LL MIC DROP THE DRUNK VIDEO OF U WHINING ABOUT NEEDING OUR VICE CAPTAIN TO KISS U AND HOLD YOU- I’LL DO IT DON’T TEST ME MF

TO SUGURU: hand hovering over the collection of mika stalker photos you have that you’ve sent to me

FROM SUGURU: literally this close to posting on my instagram the HUNDREDS of text messages you’ve sent me about her, including the ones from the day Consensual Sets spent at the beach, AND the ones from the week after she broke up with her loser ex, AND the ones from that time you almost kissed her, and then the other time you also almost kissed her like the love sick loser you are

TO SUGURU: i’ll kill you.

FROM SUGURU: i’d kill you first + here’s more photos mika my darling angel, wants me to send to you that i took on my phone. you better be grateful to me for forever you ass. I’m single handedly providing all the pictures for a wedding video slideshow.

FROM SUGURU: ATTACHED: 5 IMAGES

FROM SUGURU: date her asap. mika wants double dates and i’m tired of asking mingzhe to find strangers online to satiate mika’s yearning for the double date extravaganzas she wants. Ok goodnight pookie bear tetsu i hate your guts 🔪🫰🤬💯

Kuroo lets his falling phone hit him in the face as he huffs. He didn’t sleep well that night. The same iteration of her getting slammed into and crashing onto the ground keeps replaying over and over again. Kuroo wakes up in a cold sweat two different times that night.

“Thanks for the ride onto campus,” You click your seatbelt into your seat, as Kuroo taps the steering wheel a few times.

“No problem, I have class too, remember.”

“Ahh, yes, you and your fancy finance and sports marketing double major.” You giggle, holding up your pointer finger into the air in an ‘actually…’ pose that you know Kuroo hated.

He puts his hand behind your seat, hand coming near the back of your head behind the head of the chair, to reverse out of the parking lot.

“Don’t forget my minor in chemistry.”

“So weird. You’re going into sports promotion and business, but you have a science minor?” You shake your head in disbelief.

It never shocked you at just how smart Kuroo could be sometimes. When he did or said things that made you wonder if you were actually learning anything at university. Or when he could treat you to an entertaining story about his lab classes, those were the memories you’d take with you into the future. Stories Kuroo shared about his college experience, which often contrasted with your own experiences.

All through the differences though, the pair of you had become so close.

The way your friendship had increasingly deepened, and at such an unprecedented rate for you, had you feeling like he’d been doing much more for you as of late. You hoped you hadn’t been imposing on him since you stayed over at his apartment. Even though he had been the one to suggest it, you felt guilty at accepting the offer. You felt guilt that you’d been possibly taking advantage of him.

He’d been the most caring, and considerate friend you’d ever had. The closeness of you two began to feel like each time he did something, you’d need to supplement it with your own acts of kindness. Drowning in friendship wasn’t an expected result of joining a intramural volleyball team.

Kuroo shrugs a little, speeding up a little more, “I think it makes me stand out. Plus, who doesn’t love chemistry? It’s just like math with better concepts.”

You play with the hoodie strings of a borrowed top from Kuroo.

He notices your silence, but doesn’t comment on it, just continuing the drive to your building. He let you out near the entrance. The tall Humanities building had walls made of glass windows, letting people look in on lectures and socratic seminars. The concrete details blended with the fragile glass details in a dichotomous way that just worked so well.

When you shut the door to the car, Kuroo rolls down the window, calling out to you before you enter the building. Your roommate stood on the steps, holding your backpack that you’d asked her to bring. She lazily scrolled through her phone, waiting for you to talk to her and then you could go to class with her. She’d never been much of a morning person.

You turn around and rest your arms in the empty space left by the window being rolled down. Tilting your head, you waited for Kuroo to say what he wanted to say.

“You know you’re mentos right?”

The confusion is blatant on your face. You clarify, “I’m mentos? I thought I was me?”

Kuroo smirks, “You’re mentos and I’m coke-a-cola.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your roommate called out to you, letting you know that class would start soon and she wanted to get a good spot in the lecture hall. You waved to her, signaling you’d only be a few more seconds.

“You’re my chemical reaction.”

You laugh, “You make no sense sometimes I swear, but okay. I’ll be mentos and you can be coke-a-cola.”

Kuroo watched as you bounded up to your friend, sliding your backpack on. Your roommate asked about the top you were wearing by tugging on the waistband of the deep red hoodie. Kuroo knows he’s being talked about, because you jut a thumb in his direction and your roommate turns around to look at his car and she nods with understanding.

Kuroo doesn’t see your roommate wiggle her eyebrows, or how she makes a kissing face at you teasingly. He’s too busy driving to the library to find a spot to nap while he waits two hours for his own class to start.

The final two games would be critical. On November 17th, that Saturday, the gym for intramural volleyball would declare the winner. Out of 32 teams, and after five months of training, games, and unique coaching opportunities, there could only be one winner. Consensual Sets would go against EZ Pass, and Ice Ice Blockers would oppose Monster Spikes. You had found it funny how the final four all had different volleyball skills as their team name, setting, spiking, passing, and blocking.

But before the Intramural Finals, Mingzhe still needed to attend the Chinese cultural exchange event on Wednesday.

On that Monday, Mingzhe was complaining to you during team practice.

“Listen, I still haven’t found someone to be my plus one.” Mingzhe paced a little in front of you, as you wiped off a volleyball. You wanted the ball to be cleaned properly before the team would start playing with it.

“Just ask Daishou or Ito, it’s your pick. Either way, you’d have a great time.” You pull out your elbow grease to get a particularly nasty scuff out of the ball.

“It needs to be a woman. It’s a date type of event.” Mingzhe suddenly turned on his heel, facing you straight on. You brought your head to the side, eyeing Mingzhe’s rapid shift in mood. “You. You should be my plus one.”

You gape, loosening your hold on the ball that Mingzhe just ends up taking from you.

“It’s perfect! You’re interesting, we have a good friendship, fake dating for this event would be easy-peasy.” Mingzhe smiles, looking entirely too self-satisfied.

“Fake-dating?” Sourly, you try to take the ball away from Mingzhe, who just brings it closer to his chest.

Kuroo comes around to the pair of you, putting a hand on Mingzhe’s shoulder. “What’s happening? We need this ball to do the drills, it should be good by now yeah?”

Mingzhe hands the ball to Kuroo, “I was just finalizing plans for our date on Wednesday.”

Kuroo almost drops the volleyball that was placed into his hands. But he grasps onto it, trying to appear composed and chill. You tug on your knee pads, making sure they’re secure. In doing so, your shorts ride up a little and more of your thigh is exposed. Kuroo again almost drops the ball at how quickly his eyes flit to the exhibited skin of your legs.

“Date?” Kuroo wonders if the word sounds as dumb as he felt saying it.

You raised your shoulders, “Yeah.”

Mingzhe claps his hands, “Our fourth date, remember?”

Mingzhe was already trying to get into the acting persona of a fake relationship and you were not amused, shoving his shoulder roughly as you walked over to Alba. Kuroo had interpreted the shove as playful, as romantic, as being adjacent to love.

Kuroo looked between Mingzhe and you. Then he looked at Daishou desperately asking for help with his glance but Daishou was too busy helping Mika with her knee pads again. Kuroo then went back to looking at the space you had occupied.

His heart lurched, and just like a bad sickness, he couldn’t help but continue his downward spiral.

“When did you guys start dating?” He folds his arms in front of him, shuffling his feet a little.

“A few weeks ago. Just trying it out, you know.” Mingzhe said, “She’ll be going with me to the exchange event, it’ll be fun to see her dress up formally for once.”

Mingzhe, unaware of Kuroo’s radiating tension, goes over to where Ito had called him.

Kuroo, dumbstruck and frustrated, called out a change of plans, “We’re doing a three versus three.”

You stood on the other side of the net, blocking spikes from Daishou. Each time Kuroo served, he went straight for Mingzhe’s throat- putting more force than he typically did. Alba was drenched in sweat by the end of the single match. Ito had his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are we done yet Tetsu?” Ito asked, and Alba made her way under the net, patting Ito on the back.

Mingzhe had fallen to the ground and was laying on his back, sweat dripping from his black hair to the gym floor. You had half a mind to join Mingzhe. But Kuroo still looked fired up.

“Yes, we’re done for today, Ito. Good practice everyone!” You called out, and Mika gladly started packing up the shared bag she had with Daishou. Kuroo looked at you with pursed lips.

Kuroo and you stayed behind to take down the volleyball net, and as he began folding the white ropes, you began to speak, “Our three versus three is supposed to have more balance than that. You weighed the sides wrong. Alba never has to spike that much, she needed to practice her receives today. You just kept serving straight to Mingzhe, not to mention you had Suguru aim solely for Mingzhe too. He’s going to be exhausted tonight.”

“Worried about your boyfriend? He’s supposed to be essentially a professional anyway. Mingzhe is fine.” Kuroo kept folding the net, however, you could see his knuckles were white and each time he folded the stringy-material he left a mark on his hand from the unneeded strain he was putting

“Mingzhe is a friend. We aren’t dating, Testsurou.” You take down the side rods, detaching the sections so you could carry them easier.

“Oh really? Four dates in a row sounds pretty serious.” He gnaws at the words he sends your way. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you two were going to start acting like Suguru and Mika soon.”

You put the rods away, not saying anything to Kuroo’s comment.

He pushes further, “How long have you liked him?”

“It isn’t like that.” You face Kuroo, hands on your hips, “Mingzhe was joking about it being our fourth date. Calm down. I don’t know why you’re so pressed over this.” You say.

“You two don’t go well together.” Kuroo claims, “He’s not right for you. He’s going back home at the end of the year anyway.”

You take the folded net from Kuroo, but he tugs it away from you, pulling you closer to him.

You’re both gripping the net, standing barely a foot apart. Kuroo is looking at you, a twitch in the vein of his neck tells you he’s upset without him having to say anything.

“It’s not even a date, Tetsurou. I’m his plus one. He just needed a girl to go with him.” You explain, trying to get the net away from Kuroo, but his hold is stronger than yours.

“It isn’t a date?”

“Not in my book. It’s not a romantic date. We’re going as friends. Why, just why does it matter so much to you?”

He lets go of the net, and grabs a hold of your arms instead. He opens his mouth a few times, only to close his mouth soon after. Fully taking the net away from you, Kuroo puts it into the storage room.

You sigh with exasperation, going to grab your skateboard.

“Let me drive you, it’s dark out.” Kuroo swings his keys on his pointer finger.

You turn around, tilting your head down slightly to glare at him, “Are you going to throw another fit?”

“Geez, someone’s mad.”

Your jaw drops, then you shake your head with a snicker dying out on your lips.

“You can be so hot and cold sometimes Tetsurou. Did you know that?”

Kuroo holds the gym door open for you to exit. He locks it up once he steps out as well.

“That’s why I’m the coke-a-cola, and you’re the mentos.”

“I really need you to explain your analogy to me.”

The Chinese Cultural Exchange Event at the ballroom of The University of Tokyo really was a stunning celebration. Lanterns were hanging from the second floor open balconies, and the marble pillars were covered in a mixture of bamboo and woven leaves to showcase the Horticulture Department’s skills of arranging foliage. There were tables filled with classic Chinese dishes, along with unique Chinese-Japanese dishes from the diaspora history of China to Japan.

You were surprised to see just how many exchange students the university had from China, it seemed like there had to have been at least a hundred or more Chinese exchange students, including Mingzhe.

Mingzhe has asked that you wear red and black to match with him. You thought it was funny that so many men in your life asked you to wear the red/black combination so frequently. Your dress was formal of course, but you had opted for a loose silky maroon dress that had black lace detailing.

The long sleeves of the dress were a sheer black, so that air could filter to your arms as well. Even though you never opted for a sweetheart neckline most of the time, the lady at the store had said you’d look great with this specific dress. So you had bought it and called it a day.

Mingzhe, as you were coming to realize, must have been rich because there was no way his tailored suit would’ve cost any less than one million yen. Mingzhe clearly had only worn red leather shoes to match slightly with you, because otherwise he was in an all black outfit.

You put on a forceful smile as Mingzhe puts his hand on the small of your back and introduces you in Mandarin to one of his friends. Once the conversation died down, you leaned over to Mingzhe with gritted teeth, “I’m actually going to murder you. You didn’t tell me that the Chinese exchange student association at our school was filled with rich kids.”

An older lady, presumably an exchange coordinator, stops to compliment your dress, in Mandarin. You fumble over the words of thanks that Mingzhe had taught you a few minutes ago. When Mingzhe laughs into his cup of water, you elbow him in the side discreetly.

“Just what are you telling people about me?” You demand. Mingzhe hands you a glass of water from the plate a dressed up server was walking around with.

“Girlfriend, three months.”

Your eyes widen, and Mingzhe chuckles.

“Close friend who I play volleyball with, who graciously accepted my invitation to join me tonight.”

Moving your head up and down appreciatively, you sip on your water, “That’s more like it.”

Scanning around, you tried to see if you knew anyone. Which was a long shot, but-

“Kenma? Is that you?”

The dip dyed blonde makes eye contact with you and raises a hand. Kenma makes his way over to you, eyeing the way Mingzhe had his arm around your waist with suspicion.

“It’s nice to see a familiar face.” Kenma comments, shaking hands with you and Mingzhe.

“What are you doing here?”

Kenma smiles, pointing to an enamel pin on his suit jacket, “Got a sponsorship from a Chinese company. Said Chinese company has a college aged daughter, and thus, here I am as a plus one as a favor to my sponsor.”

You nod, trying to make an estimation for just how much net worth Kenma had. Mingzhe started talking to Kenma about what games he’d seen Kenma play, because apparently Kenma’s streams were popular on a Chinese video server called billibilli. You were glad that your parents limited your screen time as a child, otherwise you’d be just as chaotically involved in the conversation Kenma and Mingzhe were having about a new game that was releasing soon.

The rest of the night was spent listening to more of Mingzhe’s Mandarin speaking skills, as you swished around in your dress waiting for the time to go.

Mingzhe threw back a shot, well, a quick drink from a flask that a student had snuck in, “Let’s dance!”

You tried to pull back, but Mingzhe grabbed you by the hands and pulled you into his chest. A smile that you’d never seen on his face appeared, and instead of harmonious traditional Chinese pop music, someone hijacked the music- rap music you were sure was not school approved started blasting.

The administration looked furious, but Mingzhe just kept giving you that face splitting smile. He mouthed his words again, and the only response you could give was moving his hands from your back to your waist.

The club style dancing eventually devolved into a mosh pit that was quickly disassembled by the administration due to the cutting of music. The students groaned, but the administration said that the event was over and that everyone needed to get back to their housing.

Mingzhe dropped you off at your dorm, running a hand through his sweaty black hair.

“Had fun?” He asked.

“Yes. It was very fun.”

Instead of just waving, Mingzhe opened his arms up, and you gave into the offering of a hug.

His hugs were different from Kuroo’s hugs. For one, Mingzhe was shorter than Kuroo, so you could feel more of his face than just solely his chest or neck. For another, Mingzhe didn’t smell like Kuroo. Mingzhe was mintier, like spearmint and peppermint- it burned your nose a tinge. Mingzhe was also lankier, arms not quite packing as much heft to them like Kuroo’s did.

“Don’t look now, but I think someone is spying on us.” He whispered into your ear, and you grabbed onto his shoulders tighter. The bounce of his body as he laughed shook you, and you slapped his shoulder. “You really shouldn’t trust me when I say things like that.”

“If people knew even a fraction of what I know about you, you’d be immediately canceled.”

“Good thing no one knows me like you.” Mingzhe swiped at your cheek with two knuckles, a gentle caress. “You know I have feelings for you right?”

You nod affirmatively.

“But I’m also guessing, and tell me if I’m wrong, but there’s a different black haired boy on our volleyball team that holds the key to your heart?” Mingzhe murmured. You could practically hear the deep ache in his soul.

You nod again.

“Well, I can’t win them all. Here’s to being good friends.” Mingzhe grabbed your hand and shook it a few times, “When we win on Saturday, make sure to at least give me a little peck on the cheek.” He brazenly states.

“No promises.”

Mingzhe throws his head back, dimples coming out to show off.

“Thanks for a great night Mingzhe, I’ll see you on Saturday.” You pat him on the cheek, separating the pair of you. Your heels were killing you, and all you really wanted to wear was the fleece hoodie Kuroo gave you that you hadn’t returned for weeks now.

He salutes, walking backwards for a moment. Then he calls out with mirth laced into his words, “I always get cock blocked by the middle blockers I swear to the gods.”

And you thought, Mingzhe was absolutely correct.

TO TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

TO TETSUROU: she seemed to have fun tonight at the little event thing

Kenma had paused his late night stream, sending photos of you and Mingzhe dancing- leaving absolutely no space for Kuroo’s mental sanity. Kenma knew that sending the photos could possibly instigate something that he didn’t want unfolding.

FROM TETSUROU: i don’t care.

TO TETSUROU: hmm yeah sure

FROM TETSUROU: i dont care- i just want her to be happy, genuinely happy. like so happy she literally feels sore in the mouth from smiling so much

TO TETSUROU: there it is

TO TETSUROU: look, here’s the situation. she isn’t into mr. libero chinese model guy- she likes you.

FROM TETSUROU: i wish

Kenma felt his eye twitch at Kuroo’s message. How long did Kuroo have to keep the back and forth before Kenma just wrote out a confession for his friend and mailed it to you?

TO TETSUROU: she likes you. the only logical conclusion is that you both are giant pussies who are so afraid to break the friendship between yall that you’ll end up missing each other in the process. like those stupid freaking robots on mars, the ones that battery died before they could share data.

TO TETSUROU: regardless, she’s hot, you’re hot, get together and have a bunch of weirdo genius kids or whatever it is you want the point is that you need to say something before its too late

TO TETSUROU: stop ignoring my messages.

TO TETSUROU: tell her on saturday. after you win the finals and get those gaudy trophies- just like pull a tetsurou move and pull her into you and kiss her so good she forgets her name.

FROM TETSUROU: i always knew you were a freak on the down low

TO TETSUROU: i always knew you were a freak out in the open but a sweetheart teddy bear on the down low. we could go for hours, but the main thing here is: tell her, kiss her, live happily ever after

FROM TETSUROU: i feel sick

TO TETSUROU: you care too much. and you know what? SHE LOVES THAT ABOUT YOU- im tired of telling u what to do. Tell her, dont tell her, grow old without ever experiencing the touch of your woman, do what you want. but honestly, if i have to witness one more longing gaze ill vomit so for my sake, your best friend, tell her and be happy.

Kuroo powered off his phone.

Then he immediately turned it back on to look at the photos Kenma had sent him. He kicked off his blankets with his stewing offended reaction to the photos. Plugging his phone in, Kuroo got a glass of water from his kitchen.

The moon wasn’t out, or at least it wasn’t visible. Storm clouds thundered, lighting struck the ground in bolts of blue and grey. At least the weather understood him. He could always trust the universe to send him a message with what the weather was. Sunny days would be happy, rainy days would be brilliant, and stormy nights would reflect the inner turmoil of his spirit.

He scratched an itch right above his knee, leaving white marks from how his nails drug against his skin. The clock told him that it was Thursday at two in the morning. He counted on his fingers. The end of the finals game would be around eight in the evening on Saturday.

He had sixty-six hours to decide if he would give his heart away. Sixty-six hours to conjure up a magic spell to make him anyone besides himself as he uttered the words, “I love you.”

Sixty-four hours goes by much quicker than Kuroo would expect.

“Okay, listen up everyone.” Consensual Sets was huddled up, you were giving your final speech of this year. Your team had won against EZ Pass, and now the final match would be against Monster Spikes.

You were aware of how tired everyone was. In the third set against EZ Pass, Alba twisted her ankle, leaving the team to substitute her out for Mika. Resulting in an extremely close third set, but in the end, you were able to do a block kill and Daishou was able to get a good spike in to secure the win in Consensual Sets favor.

Alba sat on the bench, with a bag of ice on her ankle. Although she’d never say it, she was angry. Her face was entirely blank, devoid of any emotion. No comments or out of the blue thoughts rambled out of her- and you knew that Alba was fermenting in her own self pity.

Ito was sitting next to Alba, as the rest of the team stood around with arms around shoulders. You could feel the sweat from everyone’s bodies in the team circle.

“Monster Spikes as a whole lacks the ability to connect. Their passes are sloppy compared to ours. Ito, your setting skills outweigh that other setter. Kuroo, your blocks are always on point. Alba, Daishou, Mika, you're some of the best spikers I’ve seen. Not to mention Mingzhe being our solid foundation as libero, nothing gets past you.” Your speech wasn’t organized, it wasn’t even meant to be motivational.

But you continued, “These past six months, I wouldn’t trade them for anything. So many team practices, so many late night drives, so many junk food purchases.” You look down to the gym floor, “I was so worried when I started college that I wouldn’t find my people. But look at me now, I have the best friends in the world and we’re playing in a championship. We don’t need to be a school sponsored team, just being on a intramural team is enough to make me glad.”

You don't see the way that Alba wipes at her eyes. You miss the way that Mingzhe and Ito share a big smile at each other. Mika rubs your back, urging you to continue. Daishou and Kuroo kick each other in the shins, an amicable gesture between rivals turned competitive friends.

“So, you know what, let’s go out and win this. Connect every receive, every toss, every spike. We are the blood that flows through, let’s make it easy for each other to show off our skills.” You stick your hand into the center of the team. Everyone stacks their hand on top of yours.

Kuroo had told you that you should be the one to give the final speech, you should be the one to speak before the final game with this team. His selfish desire to hear you tie up the loose ends of a season of volleyball, knowing how he’d fumble the speech due to his inability to accept that this team would never be the same after their last game.

But also, Kuroo knew that just hearing you talk would soothe his nerves before this game. Hearing you express your thoughts and emotions about your team, the team he shared with you, would do wonders for his confidence in the game.

After listening to so many of Kuroo’s pre-game speeches, you had an idea of what would be good to say. In the end though, this speech was uniquely yours. A testament to the power of connection.

Kuroo locks eyes with you. You nudge your head in the direction of everyone’s hands, he shakes his head, mouthing that this call was all yours. You mouth a thank-you to Kuroo.

Looking around at your friends, you give the last cheer of the year, “3, 2, 1, let’s play!”

Kuroo wins the coin toss, and Mika serves first.

She starts with a jump float that undeniably starts the team off on the best footing possible. A service ace right off the bat, and Daishou can’t help but pump his fists and give a yell of excitement. He loved to see his fiancé play a game that had become the center of his universe, more accurately though the center of Daishou’s universe was a mixture of volleyball and Mika.

The game picks up with an indomitable force, the speed and increasing frequency of you having to jump up to block or to give a feint hit is more than you’re used to. Kuroo’s breathing is heavier, and between points scored, he keeps his shoulders low. Ito keeps shaking out his hands, then rolling his dominant shoulder. The only one who still looks moderately normal is Mingzhe, who’s sporting a dimple on only one side of his face.

After set one, Consensual Sets is ahead 1-0.

Four more to go.

1-1.

2-1.

2-2.

Alba is sitting on the edge of the bench, eyebrows furrowed, her hands grip the plastic seat. Each time Daishou spikes, Alba purses her lips.

During a time out, you sit next to Alba.

“Thank you.” It’s a quiet moment shared between you and Alba, everyone else getting some water for a moment. You express your gratitude plainly, because that’s all that's needed to get the sentiment across. You appreciated her, and she knew it too.

Alba’s bottom lip quivers, “I just wanted to play one more game with everyone. With Mingzhe behind me, with Ito sending me those smooth tosses, with you and Kuroo as my wall of defense. With Daishou shouting at me telling me to fix my form. With Mika telling me to ignore Daishou. One more game with everyone.”

You pat her knee.

“Alba, we couldn’t have gotten here without you.” Smiling, you hold her hand, “Remember, this is all for fun. And as long as you’re having fun- then we’re winning. You’re on the court just as much as I’m on the court, even if it might not seem like it.”

She wipes her face with the back of her hand, “You suck- making me cry like this. I'm such a baby, screw you.”

Ito laughs once he hears Alba’s comment, full body laughing. It's a new sound for everyone on the team, to hear the joyous childlike giggles erupting from the most stone-faced member of Consensual Sets. Following suit, everyone else joins in, laughing. Mingzhe even snorts.

The opposing team raises their eyebrows at you all, but in the end, it's just a game of volleyball. It's a game being played by a group of friends who like spending time together. You weren’t sure that friends was the right defining terminology anymore. There had to be a word for what everyone shared, because it was deeper, more meaningful, richer than just being ‘friends’.

Kuroo watches as Alba punches you in the arm, and the grin you give in response stuns him. You stand up from the bench to escape Alba’s gentle wrath. You bump into Kuroo, turning around and giving him that smile that made him feel like himself.

He just can’t help the way he grabs your face and slots his lips to yours.

To his surprise, you wrap a hand around his neck and pull him in closer. He rubs his thumbs on your cheekbones, letting his cold nose bump into yours. You tilt your head so you can breathe through your nose a little better. He moves from your lips to the side of your mouth, rapidly placing gentle pecks there before doing the same all over your face.

Wrinkling your nose, you make a noise of complaint at being gross and sweaty.

When you pull away, Kuroo’s face follows yours, trailing closely. He reminds you of a cat trying to nudge their way under your hand. He connects to your lips again, humming against the plush of your skin. Thinking back to his failed confession at the train station, he nips at your lips before kissing them lightly. It’s hard to kiss when he’s smiling this much.

“As much as I love a free show, we have a game to win.” Mingzhe tugs on the back collar of Kuroo’s shirt, ripping him from you. Kuroo wriggles out of Mingzhe’s hold, trying to attach himself to you again, but gets shaken out of his one track mind, his desire to just keep kissing you, when the referee blows his whistle.

Serve. Receive. Set. Spike. Block.

Block. Receive. Set. Spike.

Receive. Set. Spike.

Block. Spike.

Spike.

3-2.

“LET’S GO!” Ito screams, whipping his head around to look at Alba. She waves a little from her spot on the bench. Ito thinks to himself, if Kuroo can confess, then surely he can too.

Although, Ito’s kiss is much less tame than Kuroo’s. Ito’s kneeling on the bench, arms wrapped around Alba’s torso as she’s practically hanging off of the bench, only supported by Ito’s hold.

Mingzhe throws his hands up in the air when Daishou and Mika kiss as well.

“Can nobody just appreciate the win? What's with all the kissing?” Mingzhe speaks into a void, rubbing his forehead with exasperation.

“This is appreciating the win.” Kuroo wraps an arm around your waist, pinching your side. The pinch makes your body move closer into him.

“Oh yeah, suddenly everyone on our team is in love and I’m here, just the best libero in a loveless existence. At least I’ll always have volleyball.” Mingzhe jokingly states, hugging the volleyball to his chest.

Alba holds up a marker, “I can draw a kissable face on the ball if you want Mingzhe?”

Ito laughs loudly again, resting his chin on Alba’s shoulder.

Mika, in her wisdom, tells everyone to line up for a group photo before awards are handed out.

Three sequential clicks of Mika’s phone, and one of your opponents double checked that all the shots they took were good. Handing the phone off, the tall girl who had kindly taken the photos of your team shook your hand.

“You’re one of the best blockers I’ve seen on an intramural team, how’d you get so good?” She asked.

You shrugged, but Kuroo spoke up, “I taught her everything that she knows. But also, my girlfriend is a quick learner too, an easy study if you will.”

The girl nods, bowing curtly before going over to her own team.

You grab the front of Kuroo’s shirt, pulling his face down to yours.

“My boyfriend really is a handful. What should I do about that?”

Kuroo smirks, grabbing a hold of the front of your shirt as well.

“Definitely kiss him. That’s the best solution.” He nods his head.

“One question first,” You comment, smoothing out his shirt where you had twisted the fabric, “Explain the mentos and coke thing.”

Kuroo slips a hand under your shirt, resting on your bare hip, “You put mentos in a bottle of coke then, bam. Explosion. One of the coolest chemical reactions I know of.”

“Wanna try that out?”

“Yes, please.”

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: my epic teammates, my best friends, my family.

FROM SUGURU: i’m going to be sick why are you so sentimental

FROM ITO: alba and i are on our way don't start without us!

FROM MINGZHE: ur lucky i got a flight in time for this

FROM ALBA: i bought you a photobook for all our pictures! and i got tetsu some mentos like he asked

FROM MIKA: sugu and i will be there soon, needed to get gas for my bike

FROM SUGURU: what's the point of having an engagement party if we can't even play volleyball

FROM TETSUROU: suguru i’ll make you chopped liver. i don't know who told you we wouldn't have a volleyball at the party ??

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: make sure to add songs to my playlist for tonight! thanks for getting mentos alba! Make sure to sign your names into the guestbook when you get here

FROM TETSUROU: me too?

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: tetsurou what am i going to do with you for the rest of our lives 🥲

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: ATTACHED: 3 IMAGES

TO SUGURU, ITO, MINGZHE, ALBA, MIKA, AND TETSUROU: consensual sets reunion + their engaged captain and vice captain (look at how cute my ring is 😭 thank you tetsurou 💖) (also peep the coke and mentos explosion behind us in that last photo!!!!!!)

FROM TETSUROU: wedding in 5 months be back soon everyone! it was nice seeing everyone again. love you all ! 🙏🏐💍

[augustjustice]

you wanna feel how it feels (let's exchange the experience) 4/?

Part 3 | AO3

Notes: We're back with more bodyswapping shenaningans, and an added round of basketball this time! This chapter turned into quite a lengthy one, so I hope y'all enjoy.

“So, uh…what exactly are we planning to tell the sheepies here when I fail the strength check and completely destroy my image as Steve Harrington, basketball star?” Eddie asked. 

He was back in the driver’s seat of the Beemer, parked out front at the Sinclair’s place while Lucas and Erica changed into whatever constituted more basketball court appropriate attire inside. Once the kids had finished up at the arcade, they’d headed straight over, Nancy being a total star and agreeing to chauffeur Dustin home before heading back to the Wheelers. …Something that was probably all for the best, really. Eddie was still pretty steamed at those two for the way they’d acted towards Steve–him as Steve, anyway–and he wasn’t quite sure what might have come spilling out of his mouth, if he got half a second with either of them alone. 

“...The strength check?” Steve repeated, face scrunching up with confusion.

“Oh, uh…if I roll a Nat 1 on any athletic feats I’m expected to pull off. Which, let’s face it. I’m probably going to.” When Steve’s expression failed to clear, Eddie explained, “D1 as in, you know…D&D.”

“Ohhh,” Steve breathed out in realization. His brow remained pinched, though, a sliver of tongue flicking out to trace his bottom lip as he clearly processed this new information. “Right, so like. D20 is winning the championship, which makes D1 basically…what, completely blowing the game before you've even made it to half time?”

“...Stevie, man, you know me well enough by now to know I don't have a single fucking clue how to answer that.”

Steve flapped a hand at him, blowing out a dismissive psst through his teeth. 

“You're not gonna blow it, dude. Alright? You've got me here, Hawkins very own former basketball co-captain, to talk you through it. Plus, I mean,” he gave Eddie’s hip what was presumably meant to be an encouraging couple of slaps, “you've also got the added bonus of having my muscle memory on your side. All-star combination, no chance you can miss.”

Eddie shook his head with a sarcastic chuckle. “Oh, ye of way too much faith. Need I remind you, dear Steven, I couldn't even catch the keys you threw at me this morning. Where exactly were all those stellar jock reflexes of yours then?”

“Huh. That’s a good point. But maybe it's like, uh…what do they call it? Mind over matter!” Steve snapped his fingers triumphantly, face lighting up. “All you need to do is just, you know…move the goal post on your expectations a little bit. Because there's no way I couldn't have made that catch. But you didn't think you could do it, and then you didn't. So just…I don’t know, tell the voice in your head that says you can't to knock it off, and then you'll have it in no time.”

He could feel the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, an endeared smile blooming across his face no matter how hard he tried to resist. “Harrington…did you just give me a pep talk?”

“I mean, I'm kinda like your coach now, dude. Hate to break it to you, but pep talks come with the territory.” Then Steve let out a quick sigh, running a hand up and over Eddie’s hair–he was getting a lot better already at remembering to dodge snagging his fingers in the curls. “Look, Eds, you can’t miss this. Alright? It’s…seriously really important to Lucas. I know you hate sports, or whatever, but–just give it a chance, yeah? You never know. Maybe it won’t be as terrible as you think.” 

“I don’t hate them,” Eddie protested defensively.

Steve’s only response was to cock an eyebrow, sending Eddie a single skeptical and devastatingly sardonic look.

And…yeah, okay. That was fair. It’d only been a few hours ago that he’d reacted to Steve using his mouth to spew sports lingo with all the horror of someone being given a wet willy. 

“I don’t!” he insisted more vehemently.

And, evidence to the contrary, it was true. Sure, sports weren’t his thing, but he sure as shit didn’t hate them. How could he, when it was something Steve was so passionate about? 

“I just–fuck, I just really don’t get it, man. It’s kinda like–you with D&D, if that makes sense? You don’t loathe it or anything, sure, but it’s not exactly like you’re rushing out to try it either. I mean, yours truly can’t even talk you into sitting in on one session of our campaign.” 

Shit. Eddie hadn’t quite meant to just–blurt out how he was feeling about the whole situation that way. But he’d always been crap at wearing his emotions anywhere other than right on his sleeve, like they were the latest patch adorned to his battle jacket. 

And the truth was, it really did sting, a little, that maybe Steve just…couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when it came to the things Eddie was interested in. Even more so, he guessed, because that didn’t seem much like the Steve Eddie had gotten to know over the past month or so. 

He saw the lengths Steve was willing to go for his friends–literally to hell and back. A silly D&D session should be nothing, in comparison. 

But then, if that was the case–why wasn’t Steve willing to even drop in and just watch the Hellfire Club play?

Strained silence fell over the car. When Eddie glanced over at him, Steve was shuffling guiltily in his seat. 

“I wasn’t trying to be an ass, man. I just–shit,” he sucked in a breath, feeling off-balance, “you wanna clue me in on exactly what’s going on in your head over there, big boy?”

“...I have tried it,” Steve admitted with an apologetic wince, “with Erica.”

Eddie’s response was automatic–he clutched his chest, as if Steve had delivered a fatal blow. 

…To be fair, the shock of the statement did kinda make him feel like he’d been suddenly mortally wounded. 

“Steven! The sheer…betrayal!” he gasped out. “How could you forsake me in this way?”

“Hey, dude, come on, I didn’t even really know you when I played before!” 

“And yet, you haven’t joined in on a single game since. For shame,” Eddie tsked, falling back on theatrics to cover up any trace of real disappointment he felt. 

“Listen, I’m telling you, I had no choice! According to Erica, she didn’t have enough ‘nerdy’ friends to talk into playing. And, Eddie, it was so obvious she was feeling down about it. You know what Erica’s usually like, she doesn’t let any of us in on what’s eating her. So, me and Robin and Dustin, we all agreed to run like a…like a one shot? Is that what they’re called? With her.”

The hurt from before faded some, melting like snow at the inescapable warmth that bubbled up in Eddie’s chest. Doing it for Lady Erica–that was certainly a cause he could get behind. And of course it had been cheering up the youngest Sinclair that convinced Steve to join–what could be more par for the course, when it came to Hawkins’ babysitter extraordinaire? 

“Yeah, man,” Eddie reassured him. “One shots are what you call it when you plan a game that only lasts for a single session.”

“That’s the one, then,” Steve huffed out a sheepish laugh. “To be honest, I sort of blew at it, dude. There’s just like…a ton of math to keep track of? Which, you might have noticed from all the questions, not exactly great at that. And then there’s so much other little shit to remember on top of it. Erica roasted me to hell and back afterwards. Totally worth it, though, seeing what a blast she had.” 

“Shit, man, I can only fucking imagine. She’s a savage, when she wants to be.” Eddie couldn’t help but ask, “Did you have any fun with it, Harrington?” 

“I mean…yeah, it was a pretty good time. Not my favorite thing in the world, or anything, but not bad. But it wasn’t, like. A serious game, you know? Not like the stuff you do.”

Eddie rocked back and forth in his seat, drumming a mindless rhythm against the steering wheel, taking it in. “And you wouldn’t be into that? Something that felt…more hardcore?”

Steve hummed, noncommittal. “I mean…I guess not? You, and the other guys, and the little numbskulls…Hellfire is like, your thing, yeah? I don’t want to mess that up for you guys, and I’m pretty sure I’d just slow shit way down for everybody. Besides, after what happened today, I think it’s pretty safe to say–Dustin and Mike don’t really have the patience for that. Not during a ‘real’ game, or whatever. I’ve got a feeling Gareth and Jeff and Frankie wouldn’t exactly love having me there, either.”

…Steve had him there. This morning had definitely opened Eddie’s eyes to at least one clear source of Steve’s reluctance to play. 

“I wouldn’t let any of the guys get away with that shit, the kind of stuff Henderson and Wheeler tried to pull today. You know that, right? The usual sort of good-natured ribbing, sure, but…not acting like total jackasses to you, or anybody,” he scoffed, a low, disparaging sound, at the mere thought. He dared those little shits to even try it. “Hell, it wouldn’t even help them out in the long run, anyway. At the end of the day, D&D is all about working together with your party, not tearing each other down or turning on each other.”

“Yeah, but…how much fun would you really have, dealing with some guy who’s barely got a clue what’s going on gumming up the works?” The thin smile Steve sent him was knowing, a total gotcha!

“For starters, the same logic as your pep talk? Totally applies here. No way in hell you’re gonna ruin things just by joining in, dude. Besides…can’t exactly remember ever having a bad time when you were around, Stevie.” 

Steve softened at that, eyes going warm and fond. And though they weren’t as pretty as the golden-flecked hazel ones Eddie was used to staring into, the lightness in them made them shine just that little bit brighter, looking like Steve’s all the same. 

“Okay, Eds,” he relented. “Do this for Lucas, and I promise I’ll play with you and the Hellfire guys. At least one time.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, good sir.” 

Spitting into his palm, Eddie thrust out his hand to shake.

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Steve murmured…but then, did the same, sealing the deal with the time-honored binding agent of their mixed saliva.

They shook once, and Eddie didn’t quite manage to bite back his cackle when, as soon as their hands parted, Steve’s face crinkled into a disgusted grimace.  

“Ew,” he intoned flatly.

“It’s your spit,” Eddie pointed out, still snickering.

“Yeah, and? What difference does that make? Still gross, dude.”

With the clear intent to wipe his palm clean, Steve reached for the back pocket of Eddie’s jeans. 

“Not the bandana!” he shouted before Steve managed to free it. “You can’t sully that, man. It completes the whole look.”

With a roll of his eyes, Steve shrugged and then drug his hand down one leg of the black denim he was wearing instead. Then, for good measure, he grabbed Eddie’s wrist and repeated the motion–still on Eddie’s jeans. 

Before Eddie could protest, Steve cut him off with a quick, “Your idea, dude…so. Your clothes are the ones that get to suffer for it.”

“I mean, to be honest? That whole thing was totally for show. I was already planning on joining in on your sports games for Sinclair anyway. Otherwise, why the hell would I even be here? But, since you offered an exchange…” he shot Steve a toothy grin, “the contract is now legally binding.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, looking entirely nonplussed. “Whatever you say, Eds.”

Eddie gave a full-body shimmy at the thought, unable to contain his excitement. “You’re gonna totally fucking love it, Stevie! I promise. Hell, I’ll make a one-shot campaign just for you.”

That got Steve’s face to snap back to him, blinking over with wide, startled eyes. Eddie still didn’t quite see the Bambi comparison his friend sometimes liked to make, but…now with this fresh outsider’s perspective, he could admit that his eyes did look kind of ridiculously, comically large sometimes.

“Seriously? So you’d actually…what, come up with a whole new idea just for me?”

“Of course I would, man! I want you to, you know. Actually enjoy yourself?”

Eddie didn’t quite get the chance to parse it, the complicated series of expressions Steve seemed to cycle through at that–because the kids were already back, Erica’s demanding yank on the door handle shattering the moment. 

As they climbed inside, he made a show of mimicking Steve’s customary scolding with a quiet, Watch it, watch it. If he practiced it enough, surely he’d hone that particular brand of babysitter instinct Steve had until it became reflex. 

Steve’s gaze stayed settled on him all the while, as they began shuffling onward to the next stage of their latest adventure. He could feel it, heavy and lingering, even if Steve’s eyes flitted away quickly every time he tried to catch him at it. 

But he had seen it anyway, in the seconds before Steve twisted away to stare out the car window. That familiar, quiet look of concentration, scrunching up Steve’s nose and drawing one corner of his mouth downwards into a half-frown. 

Eddie’s cheeks heated slightly–damn blush–at the scrutiny, the knowledge that Steve had been studying him. 

Because the look on his face? 

Despite the topsy-turvy nature of their entire situation, it was like Steve was some part of Eddie for the very first time. 

—

“Is he really gonna play basketball with you and Lucas?”

As soon as they had made it through the Harrington’s front door, Steve had chirped out I’ve got it! and headed straight for the laundry room, on a mission to grab them both something to wear. The clear pep in his step made it obvious he was looking forward to hitting the pavement, or whatever the hell it was called, and managed to quell at least a little of the dread Eddie was valiantly trying to tamp down. What could he say? He’d always found Steve’s enthusiasm infectious like that.  

“Don’t know what you want me to say here, La–Erica,” Eddie shrugged, managing to choke off the instinct to call her by her D&D title. “But, uh…yeah. He totally is.”

Clearly, this answer was deemed unsatisfactory, given the way Erica somehow managed to squint even harder up at him. “I thought the nerds were being stupid before, but now I gotta ask…you two lose a bet?”

Holding up his hand in a three-finger salute, Eddie vowed, “I swear on Dustin’s mother’s life that there was no bet.” 

Sure, the gesture was a little empty, given there was no way in hell he would have ever been a Boy Scout. But Eddie was pretty sure Steve had been, and that had to count for something, right? He’d search the house later if he got the chance, try to come up with some photographic proof.

Now that he thought about it, though, maybe he shouldn’t have been arguing so strongly against the possibility of a bet. He wondered if he and Steve should have jumped on that explanation when they first had a chance. Might have helped to dodge some of this suspicion, or at the very least kept him from having to deal with Erica’s stink eye now. 

“But I thought Eddie hated all that ‘stupid jock stuff,’” Lucas said quietly. There were obvious echoes in the phrasing, words Sinclair wouldn’t have used himself. Instead, he was clearly parroting one of Eddie’s many tirades on the subject. “He says it turns people to the dark side. Like…what happened with Jason.”

Shame coursed through Eddie, powerful as a tidal wave. As if it hadn’t already been painfully obvious all day, here it was, staring him right in the face all over again. The reality that he was at least partially to blame for that particular sense of division among the party. 

Eddie had had to sit by and be dismissed by Dustin all day, just because Steve hadn’t taken the same sort of obsessive interest in nerdy stuff as the rest of the group had. And that was from Steve’s own pseudo-little brother, someone Eddie knew deep down loved Steve fiercely, with everything he had. 

There was no question about it–Eddie’s speeches, his dogmatic loyalty to his interests, the chip on his shoulder that he’d carried throughout high school had all helped, in some way, to fan the flames of that. 

And, sure, Eddie had his reasons to hate the Jasons of the world–reasons that had certainly turned out to be well-founded. But he was learning his lesson all over again. While the Munson Doctrine had been put into place for his and his friends’ protection, as he’d already suspected, it was in desperate need of that major overhaul. For certain parts of it in particular. 

Like his blanket view on all high school athletics, for example. The attitude he’d held of total derision was what got him to say shit like Lucas attending his high school basketball championship game was succumbing to the dark side. 

Because, when it came down to it…wasn’t that just Eddie’s way of trying to force Lucas into a box, get him to conform to a set of rules Eddie had already prescribed for guys like him? Which, if it was, would mean what Eddie had done completely violated the heart of the Munson Doctrine. 

A true sign that, despite his best intentions, Eddie had ended up wielding his own personal code like a weapon, and that weapon had collateral damage. With it, he had hurt the Lucases of the world, the Steves–people who didn’t, at heart, deserve it. Who Eddie had never intended to deal damage to. 

“Eddie’s kinda a dumbass,” Eddie couldn’t help but blurt. 

Lucas eyed him warily, while Erica’s eyes flashed dangerously, like she was at the ready to jump to his defense. Though it touched Eddie’s heart, at the moment, he definitely didn’t need her to take up her weapons in his honor. 

Between his pride and his own personal defense mechanisms, he knew he could be plenty slow on the uptake at times. But when it came to his friends and the stuff that actually mattered, Eddie was always willing to concede when he was the one who’d fucked up.

“Specifically about this sort of thing, I mean. Take me, for example,” he gestured to himself, to Steve. “I’m sure as shit not anything like that son of a bitch Carver, am I?”

“But…you used to be,” Lucas said hesitantly, the pain of the statement writ on his face. Evidence plain and simple that he was struggling with the idea of it, and that he didn’t want to have to hurt Steve by saying so out loud.

And…yeah, Eddie would like to have a word with whoever kept feeding that line to the kids. To anybody, really. Even if the culprit turned out to be Steve himself.

“Yeah, well, rumors of my evil reign of terror have been greatly over-exaggerated. King Steve? Was honestly…not so bad. A little bitchy, sure, but trust me, I didn’t hold a candle to some of those other guys. In fact,” he held up a triumphant finger, his own personal aha! as he laid out the evidence and made his case, “Eddie once told me that Hagan and Carver backed down from doing some of their usual heinous shit because they were worried word was gonna get back to me about it, and they knew I wouldn’t stand for it.”

“Really?” Lucas asked, a trace of hope in his voice.

Eddie laid a hand over his heart, sincere. 

“You have my word, Sinclair. Or…Eddie’s word, if you wanna get technical about it. And he’s uh…shit.” As he gnawed at his bottom lip, his eyes darted to Lucas’s like a skittish crow, sheepish but serious. “Look, he’s really sorry, dude. That he made the guys play during your championship game. A man shouldn’t have to face being deserted by his party during the important stuff.”

“You’re damn right, he shouldn’t,” Erica chimed in, her voice a low, furious undertone. Despite her willingness to defend him earlier, her loyalty to her brother clearly took top spot, true and steadfast. He was pretty surprised she hadn’t razed him to the ground over it already. 

“He actually said that to you?” Lucas asked. That hope was still there, but a shadow of skepticism had now bled into his expression. 

It made Eddie feel a little sick, knowing he had put that look there. Had helped make Lucas question himself, potentially come to see something he loved as…tainted. The very same thing people had been doing to Eddie his entire life.

All he could do was try to make up for it now. 

“He totally did, man. And he’s gonna say it to you too, soon enough. I promise you that.”

“Why?” Lucas raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a grim sort of challenge in his posture. “Are you gonna make him?”

Some part of Eddie wanted to laugh–only because that was so like Steve, and he and the kids both knew it. Sticking up for them. Getting the people around him to follow his lead, to try and right their wrongs and make amends. It was a total Mom move, even if Steve would claim he was just doing his best to keep them from making the same mistakes he had.

Eddie knew, though, that this moment was too serious to make light of.

“Nah. Nah, dude, I’ve just–got a feeling. Eddie and me, we, uh…know each other pretty well by now, so. Call it intuition.”

“Guess you must have rolled a good perception check, if you’re so sure,” Lucas joked, the defensiveness starting to drain out of him. 

The way he said it didn’t chafe, not like Dustin and Mike’s earlier dismissals had. Eddie could feel the difference–Lucas was inviting Steve in on the joke, even if he knew he didn’t totally understand it. Would have been willing to explain it, Eddie bet, if Steve asked. 

Which only made it all the more clear, that trying to balance both, navigate between two different spheres–at the end of the day, that was the way to go about things. Find a happy medium, where no one felt like they had to choose sides, be wholly one way or the other. Eddie’d have to remember to make that a pillar of the new and improved Munson Doctrine. 

After all, he’d much rather break down boxes than just build new ones. 

“I guess, something like that,” Eddie shrugged, trying to adopt that air of easy nonchalance Steve had, about not understanding every little miniscule reference the group made.

“Well, sounds to me like something, or somebody, got through to him.” Cocking her head in the direction Steve had disappeared, Erica eyed Eddie knowingly. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

No sooner had she spoken the words than Steve popped back into the living room, as though he’d been summoned. 

“Think fast,” he called, tossing a balled up pair of shorts and shirt directly at Eddie’s chest. 

Scrambling, Eddie managed to clap one arm against his body, quick enough that he just kept the garments from hitting the floor. 

Realizing what he’d done, he pumped his free hand into the air in a triumphant fist on reflex. Steve grinned, sending him two thumbs up. 

Lucas looked back and forth between them, the smile he wore caught somewhere between amused and puzzled. 

Erica, on the other hand, only rolled her eyes, showing absolutely no signs of confusion. “Okay, enough of all this mushy shit. Can you two hurry the hell up? At this rate, I’ll be as old as you by the time Lucas finally gets to practice.”

Mushy shit? Steve mouthed to Eddie. He shook his head quickly, Steve’s answering shrug saying he was willing to put a pin in it for now. There’d be plenty of time to explain all of that to him later. 

“You heard the lady,” Eddie gestured for Steve to lead the way. 

The sudden smirk that curled over Steve’s lips could only spell trouble. 

“...Race you!” The words were barely out of his mouth before he was off like a shot, headed straight for the Harrington’s staircase. 

“Har–Ha!–Munson, you shameless fucking cheat!” Eddie crowed, sprinting after him. 

Accustomed as he was to being a mess of uncoordinated, gangly limbs, Steve’s broader chest and thick legs still made him feel a bit like he was shambling, propelled forward by his own weight. At least they were basically the same height, so his equilibrium wasn’t completely fucked. He’d have probably ended up sprawled out on the floor, otherwise. 

And even with the cognitive dissonance, there was no doubt that he was faster, in Steve’s body. But, really, it was the sudden boost in upper body strength that actually sealed the deal for him. 

Because once he’d caught up enough to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist and bodily dragged him down a few steps–Steve crying out, Oh, seriously? Fuck you, dude! even as he laughed, bright and unselfconscious–Eddie found himself scrambling the rest of the way up the stairs and, for once in his life, actually finishing a race in first place. 

Maybe he could pull this off after all. 

—

Staring up at the basket on the Hawkins public courts he hadn’t even known existed before today, Eddie swallowed hard, ready to retract any earlier statements he’d made about being confident. 

After their chase up the stairs, they’d changed quickly together in Steve’s room. It was probably a good thing that Steve had been there, in hindsight, a deterrent from Eddie letting his eyes linger on all the bare, golden skin he found himself exposing yet again. 

The problem, of course, was that Steve’s Hawkins High gym uniform left very little to the imagination–the thin gray t-shirt hugging his chest in all the right places, those green athletic shorts impossibly short. Eddie had spent the entire drive out here doing his best not to get distracted by the fact that Steve’s thick, fuzzy thighs were right there, teasing at the periphery of his vision, lest he pop a boner which said tiny shorts would do absolutely nothing to hide. 

Steve was dressed all but identically–though the swim team shirt he’d procured for himself had the sleeves cut off, showcasing every inch of ink sprawled up Eddie’s arms. He kind of couldn’t get over how pale his own legs looked, vulnerable for once to the sizzling, midday sun. 

As soon as they were out of the car, Steve had scooped up the basketball he’d brought along and jogged over to the courts with all the eagerness of a very large, very overenthusiastic golden retriever. By the time Eddie had finally made his way out onto the blacktop, he was already idly–dribbling? fuck, that had to be right, Eddie was almost sure of it–his way down to the nearest basket. 

And even though the borrowed athletic shorts were a bit too baggy, in that moment, Eddie’s body looked uncomfortably natural there, surrounded by balls and hoops on all sides. There was a fluidity in the way Steve moved, a confidence that seemed to override Eddie’s utter lack of athleticism or coordination, more than making up for any of missing skills he’d adamantly refused to help develop over the years. With Steve in control, “Eddie Munson” appeared to the unknowing eye like someone who could actually belong here.

He had no idea how to feel about that. 

When Eddie glanced around, he found Lucas clearly getting ready to join them. But before he had the chance to sprint away from the bleachers where Erica was settling down watch, Steve cupped one hand around his mouth and waved him off with the other, shouting, “Just stand over there for now, Sinclair! That way you’ll have the best view. Steve’s gonna kill two birds with one stone–give you a refresher while, you know, actually teaching me the moves for the first time.”

Ball still clutched in his hands, he then pivoted on his heel, facing the target with his back to Eddie. 

The movement made Eddie freeze in his tracks, the sheer uncertainty about what came next enough to leave him staring, wide-eyed and uncomprehending, at the back of his own head. Steve had had the foresight to pull his hair up and out of the way with one of the seemingly innumerable clips Robin had abandoned at the Harringtons’ place before they’d headed out. Fully caught up in that out of body feeling, Eddie couldn’t help but notice his neck was already starting to go pink from the sun. 

Several long, agonizing beats passed, until finally Steve glanced over his shoulder at him and made a coaxing, come hither motion with his hand. 

“Come on, man. Don’t just leave me hanging. Get your ass in here.”

Despite his hesitance, Eddie shuffled forward, gnawing his bottom lip as reluctance weighed down his every step. 

Once he was within earshot, he hissed out, “Uh, need I remind you…while I may currently be running around in this top-of-the-line athletic bod of yours, Stevie, your knowledge of the arcane rituals of high school sports definitely didn’t stick around. As we’ve established, I don’t know jack shit about basketball.”

Steve scoffed. 

“I know that, Eds. What do you take me for? I’m not an idiot.” Before Eddie had the chance to argue that he would never say that, he was already barrelling on. “Why do you think I told the kid to stay over there? I’ll tell you what to say, step-by-step, while you ‘show’ me how to do it. Then, all you have to do is relay it to Lucas. Easy peasy.” 

Right. Eddie was pretty damn certain things weren't going to be nearly as breezy as Steve made it sound. But, he had already committed, and that was a central part of Eddie’s whole post-brush-with-death pact that he’d made with himself–doing his best not to run out on things. 

“Jesus Christ. Yeah, alright, Harrington. You’ve got me, I’m your eager Padawan. Teach me how to teach you all about those balls and laundry baskets.” 

Pleasure rippled through him when the quip managed to get a snort out of Steve, clearly taking it for the joke it was meant to be. 

“Well, first of all, you’re gonna need to get a lot closer to me than that, dude. How the hell else are you supposed to, you know…actually ‘coach’ me on how to line up a shot?”

While he did as instructed and crossed the distance between them, Eddie still kept a healthy amount of space between them. The look Steve sent him this time was amused, and he shook his head like Eddie was being ridiculous. 

“Seriously, Eds, press up against me. It’s not like I’ve got cooties–not any that aren’t literally yours, at least–and I swear I don’t bite.” The smirk that curled at his lips was all casual, confident Harrington charm, and Eddie found it a little disconcerting his face could even make that expression. “Not too much, anyway, or so I’ve been told.”

Eddie was pretty sure he had a dream like this, once, though without the basketball and with Steve decidedly in his own body at the time. So…nothing like this, not really, but the words were still enough to send a tingle through Eddie from his now perfectly coiffed head to his Nike-clad toe. 

There was probably something decidedly demented about feeling a surge of heat at the sound of his own teasingly suggestive voice. But he had always been weird, proudly so, and there was really no time at present to have a full-blown crisis about it. He could save all that for…later. 

“Shit, man, talk a guy into it, why don’t you,” he muttered. His mouth was running away with him, as always, but in his defense any sense of self-preservation or impulse control he’d had swiftly left the building the moment his chest connected with Steve’s back. 

This close, a few of his own stray flyaways tickled the end of his nose. A mix of cigarette smoke, the off-brand shampoo Wayne got down at Melvald’s, and the Harrington’s expensive laundry detergent wafted through the air, like a perfect blend of him and Steve together. His brain short-circuited a little, not quite sure how to process that particular combination and the hazy feeling it stirred in him. 

“Just watch,” Steve boasted, confident grin still in place. Warmth built between them, seeping beneath the thin gray cotton of their t-shirts, and Eddie was hyperaware of every line and plane of his body against Steve’s as Steve shifted on the balls of his feet. “I’ll convert you into a sports fan in no time.”

What he was doing right now was plenty persuasive, although Eddie didn’t say that. 

“Bold words, big boy, but you can certainly try,” he taunted, though the ways his hands still hovered uncertainly at Steve’s sides undermined any of his brazenness.

“Put your hands on my shoulders for now,” Steve said. So he dutifully laid them in place, marveling, not for the first time, at how big Steve’s hands really were, engulfing Eddie’s own bony frame easily. “I’m gonna get ready to take the shot the wrong way, then I’ll just tell you how to fix it for me. Okay?”

“Totally, man. Don’t leave me in suspense.”

Steve clutched the ball with both his palms, spread about equal distance from the center, and then lifted it over his head as if he was about to shoot. Which looked…completely fine from where Eddie was standing, no different from the dozens of times he’d seen jocks do it when he’d actually managed to make it to gym class. Evidently, though, there was some vital component of a proper battle stance that he was totally eluding him. 

“Dominant hand’s the shooting hand, and then the other’s the one that does all the guiding. You’re a righty, yeah? Which means my right hand should be placed center, fingers spread around the pump, and then my left goes on the side to help line up the shot,” Steve kept his hands in place, though he did squeeze the ball gently, indicating which he meant as he spoke. “You got all that? Lucas should know this, but it doesn’t hurt to get the reminder once in a while, keep him from getting sloppy.”

“Uh…yeah, I think so,” Eddie said, the unsteady waver in his words making Steve’s voice pitch a bit higher than usual. 

Sliding his hands over Steve’s arms, he readjusted his grip accordingly. Steve’s ring-clad knuckles felt cool, engulfed beneath the warm, broad palms he was now sporting, and Eddie couldn’t help but note the way Steve’s fingers spanned out past his former reach. 

“So, uh…dominant hand right down the middle, Munson. Then just put those other magic fingers to the side, and bam! Guide her on home. Got that, champ?” Eddie’s eyes crinkled at the corners, his mouth spreading wide and curling with amusement as he tapped into a facsimile of Steve’s ‘Dad’ voice worthy of Leave It to Beaver, if he did say so himself. 

Even as he kept his body pliant, letting Eddie position him accordingly, Steve craned his neck just enough to make sure Eddie caught his eye roll. 

“I do not sound like that,” he muttered pointedly from the side of his mouth. 

“You keep telling yourself that, Stevie boy.” Eddie gave Steve a clap on the back that would look encouraging from a distance. The touchy part of jock culture, at least, was something he could get behind, the one thing that he felt completely natural imitating. 

Next, apparently, before he could just go ahead and throw that silly ass ball, they needed to work on ‘Eddie’s’ stance. That particular step involved a lot of Eddie getting handsy with Steve’s hips, adjusting and readjusting to make sure his feet were pointed straight at the goal post thingy. 

After that, Steve made him literally curve over his back to allegedly make sure that he was bent correctly. His exact words, and Eddie found himself unbelievably happy Steve was turned away from him, couldn’t catch the way Steve’s apparently hair-trigger blush spread over his face at the images that particular suggestion conjured in Eddie’s mind. He’d always suspected sports could get ridiculously horny–the one real point in their favor, honestly, all those sweaty dudes rubbing up against each other–but he was getting an up close and personal education on just how right he had been now. 

“Have we finally positioned my body to suit you, good sir?” Eddie asked, amused, fingers trailing over the small of Steve’s back as he pulled his hand away. 

The smirk was in place again as Steve sent him a quick, there-and-you’ll-miss-it wink. “Watch this.”

With a bounce and a controlled flick of his wrist, Steve tossed the ball. It arced through the air, circling the top of the basket for one long, breathless moment…and then dropped through the net. 

From the sidelines, both Lucas and Erica went wild, whooping and hollering in celebration. 

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” Eddie gasped, hand clapping down on the top of his head in complete shock. “Holy shit, man, look at that! Congratu-fucking-lations, you actually did it!”

Steve spun to face him, his grin giddy as he clapped his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and gave him a triumphant little shake. “We did that, dude! That was all you, just–with some training and, you know, a little bit of a helping hand.” 

“Eddie! Dude, you made a three pointer on your first try!” Lucas crowed, voice echoing from the sheer volume of his excitement. 

At Eddie’s questioning look, Steve scuffed his Rebok along the white line painted over the asphalt. “Three point line. What, you think I was gonna miss out on my chance to see what you could actually do with a little time and effort?” Eyes flitting back to the basket, his smile mellowed, turning into something wistful yet pleased. “I may have had a shitty senior year, but–guess I make a pretty damn good coach, after all.” 

Eddie found himself surprisingly chuffed, and he couldn’t quite tell who he felt more pleased for–himself, or Steve. “Damn right you do, Harrington. Best basketball co-captain Hawkins High has ever seen.”

Steve cocked a surprised eyebrow at him. “You actually remembered that I was co-captain?”

Eddie answered with a half-shrug, tossing Steve’s words from earlier in the day back at him with ease. “Hey. I totally do listen when you talk, Harrington.”

Dropping a hand on Eddie’s bicep, Steve gave him a squeeze, a show of what Eddie immediately recognized was brief, silent gratitude. Then, he leaned in to lock eyes with him, tone going serious. “Alrighty, dude. You survived round one. Ready to keep listening to me talk about defense and how to block the other guys on the team from making a perfect shot just like that one?”

“Hell yeah, I am,” he slapped Steve’s hand, completing the high five offered to him. “Let’s do it!” 

—

This time around, Eddie did his best to repeat Steve’s instructions verbatim, goofing around less since this was definitely advice Lucas would need. Steve, for his part, waited until after Eddie had described a maneuver to follow his instructions–putting on the perfect display of cluelessness, like he had had no idea what to do until “Steve” told him.

Unfortunately, blocking was, in Eddie’s opinion, turning out to be way less exciting than shooting practice had been. For one, part of the lesson was learning the right amount of distance to keep between yourself and the other jocks to properly screw up their gameplay…which meant, of course, that Eddie wasn’t getting the same opportunity to drape himself all over Steve as he had before. 

For another, it required way more actual athleticism on Eddie’s part. As the pseudo-coach, he had to try to keep Steve from stealing away the ball–which meant, of course, that he had to have control of that wiley rubber sphere in the first place. That in and of itself proved to be a pretty Herculean task. 

His first few attempts were fumbling at best, complete with heckling from the sidelines about how he must be rusty from not going up against a real competitor lately (Lucas) and getting too rickety for basketball, old man (Erica).

By now, Eddie was well used to the kids and their mouthy ways, and he had certainly never pretended to be anything less than a disaster when it came to feats that required coordination. But–he also actually didn’t want to fuck things up, this time. 

The pressure mounted, and he felt more like an unwieldy seventh grader than the 20–now 19–something he actually was, all knees and elbows after his growth spurt, head ringing after getting pegged with a baseball during a game he definitely wasn’t paying attention to. An entire chorus of doubts started clamoring loudly inside him, making him curse colorfully when he somehow managed to bounce the ball straight into Steve’s hands.

“It’s just like I said before, Eds,” Steve’s voice, quiet and steady, cut through the static of jeering voices that sounded an awful lot like some nightmarish mish-mash of Jason Carver and his dear old dad mixed together. “Don’t overthink it, okay? You’ve got this.” 

With a nod and a deep breath, he did his best to push everything to the back burner and get out of his own head. 

Which, shockingly enough…turned out to work pretty well. It helped, of course, that he’d just had to “teach” Steve to dribble the ball, so he’d gotten a crash course on what to do only minutes before. Between that and Steve’s coaxing, Eddie finally found something like a rhythm, muscle memory making up for what he no doubt lacked in anything resembling good form.

Once that hurdle was behind them, their practice run started going along pretty swimmingly. That was, of course, until…their eagle-eyed audience decided to interject again.

“What the hell are you two talking about over there?” Erica called out, clearly having cottoned on to the fact that, between lessons, they were exchanging way more than just Eddie’s shouted instructions. 

Eddie had to hand it to her, the girl was consistent in her dogged need to understand anything and everything around her–and about as subtle as a mallet to the face when it came to her methods of finding out. 

But, Steve stayed quick on his feet, same as he’d been since the moment they got out here. 

“Hey, I gotta keep Harrington on his toes, right? I mean, what’s any good game without, like…a little smack talk.” 

That, at least, was one thing Eddie could admit that basketball and D&D totally had in common. The physical stuff might have eluded him, but verbal sparring? Now, that he could get behind. 

“Besides,” one corner of Steve’s mouth quirked upward into a confident smirk, “wouldn’t want him getting too comfortable.”

As if to demonstrate his point, Steve perfectly executed the block they had just gone over and stole the ball from Eddie, letting out a breathless laugh as he swiveled around him and headed straight for the basket. 

Eddie released an extremely undignified squawk as he went after Steve, comforting himself with the knowledge that the kids would only hear Steve making such a ridiculous sound. He had to get his revenge where he could take it–especially when his attempt to repeat the action was to no avail, their shoulders jostling together but Steve ultimately sinking the ball into the goal with a triumphant woo-hoo!

“I’m onto you, Harrington,” Eddie pointed at him in accusation, though the gesture was somewhat undermined when he had to bend over and clasp one knee, panting, “you’re having way too much fun with this, aren’t you? Turning me into some kind of basketball prodigy.”

Steve’s answering smile was so wide, it put Eddie’s dimples on full display. 

“Look, dude–don’t be mad just because I’ve figured out how to use this body in ways you haven’t. It’s not my fault you’ve got all this hidden potential, and I’m just tapping into it.” Subtle though it might have been, Eddie didn’t miss the way Steve’s hand ran over the inside of his–Eddie’s–bicep, flexing his arm and then squeezing the muscle there. “You know, I think you totally could have had a shot at making the team if you’d wanted to.”

“Yeah, uh…let’s not get delusional here, Harrington.”

“I’m serious,” Steve cocked an eyebrow, lifting his chin in what might have been an invitation, or a challenge. “What? You mean you wouldn’t want to play for my team?”

Even though Eddie was pretty sure Steve couldn’t possibly realize the implications such a question carried, he still felt a sizzle of heat run through him, and one that had absolutely nothing to do with the scorching sun. 

“Right now I’m pretty sure I’m gunning to join Sinclair’s team. At least he hasn’t been using my body for nefarious purposes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t love to show off. But when I do it, just with a different set of skills, suddenly I’m the bad guy.”

“That you are,” Catching Steve around the neck, Eddie pulled him into a headlock, ruffling his own shaggy mane. Steve’s instinctive Not the hair, man! had Eddie letting him go with a laugh. “Whaddya say?” he nodded to the benches. “Have we taught the young grasshopper all we know?”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Not sure what bugs have got to do with it, but…yeah, I’d say that should do it. Ready as we’re gonna be, all things considered.” Sliding the ball into the crook of his elbow, he clapped his hands together. “Come on, Sinclair, get a move on! You’re up, man.”

“Go on. Show them you mean business, Lucas!” Erica chanted as she lightly shoved her brother’s shoulder, encouraging and cajoling all at once. 

With a quick cheer, Lucas trotted out onto the court to finally join them.

“Alright, buddy,” Steve clapped a hand on the younger teen’s back. “You ready to help me show Harrington how it’s done?”

“Absolutely!” Lucas beamed, clearly pleased by “Eddie’s” sudden show of enthusiasm. “You know, you’re…kinda a lot better than I thought you’d be? No offense.”

“None taken. I mean, what can I say?” he shrugged, faux-modest, though the megawatt grin on his face said otherwise. “Turns out…I’m a total natural.”

“Hey, wait a minute, guys. That is seriously so not fair. How come you two get to gang up on me, huh?” Eddie whined, giving his best approximation of the fatal Harrington pout. 

Steve, apparently, was immune. 

“Sorry, Stevie, you know how it is,” he slung an arm around Lucas’s shoulders in a show of camaraderie. “Us underdogs gotta stick together. Right, Sinclair?”

Eddie huffed, imitating Steve’s signature pfft. “What are you talking about, man? Sinclair’s a total jock, plays for the Tigers and everything. If anything, that means he should be on my team.”

“Aww, guys, knock it off,” Lucas chided, though he was clearly enjoying having them bicker over him, grinning from ear-to-ear. Then, his eyes took on a particularly mischievous glint. “You know how us kids hate it when Mom and Dad fight.” 

“Oh my God, dude! Leave the smart ass comments to Henderson, yeah?” 

“For that alone, I should rescind your invitation to fight at my side, Sinclair!”

Lucas snickered. “Anyway, I’m a nerd and a jock, remember? That means I should get to decide, right? And I gotta side with Eddie on this one.” Turning to Eddie, he gave him an apologetic shrug. “Nothing personal. It just…wouldn’t be right, making him go up against the both of us when he just learned how to play today. You know?” 

“Good man, good man,” Steve chirped. “Right you are, Sinclair. That wouldn’t be cool to do to a newbie like me.” 

Cheater, Eddie mouthed as Lucas trotted ahead of them towards the basket, ready to start the game. 

Steve only laughed, taunting him with one of those infuriatingly teasing little waves. Then he was jogging off, too, easily tapping into that speed Eddie usually reserved for running from mean-spirited meatheads and cops. 

“First to ten wins!” he shouted, smoothly passing the ball to Lucas. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie muttered, struggling to catch up to them. Too slow, he watched in horror as the younger teen sank the ball in an easy slam dunk, Steve flinging his arms into the air with a triumphant Great going, Sinclair!

This was high school PE all over again. One second into his first basketball game, and somehow Eddie was already falling behind. 

—

It was not, for all his initial concerns, quite as dire as PE. 

He did have cause for alarm–but only at first. Steve and Lucas had been out here together for months now, and even if Lucas wasn’t aware of the reason for it, it became pretty obvious that Steve knew all his tells. The pair of them worked together seamlessly, egging each other on, and Steve’s almost sixth sense for when Lucas was open meant they stacked up three points collectively in what felt like the bat of an eye. 

But, as Eddie quickly learned, forming two entirely distinct ‘teams’ wasn’t all that practical, at least not when there were a grand total of three people in play. Because while Lucas and Steve might have started out the game in a loosely-defined team up against him, the boundaries of that quickly dissolved…right around the time that Lucas passed the ball straight to Eddie. 

Distracted by the certainty he was moment’s away from falling another point behind, at the time Eddie had barely had a chance to register that the sound of Sinclair’s voice shouting Steve! Steve! was directed at him. Not before that flash of orange came hurtling towards him, at least. 

But when the ball hit him square in the chest, he actually caught it, the same miracle from the laundry incident somehow managing to play out twice in one day. The only thing that saved him in the aftermath from a determined Steve Harrington barrelling straight for him was the fact that he’d already spent a lifetime running away.

“Sinclair!” Steve cried out in disbelief, slinging one hand emphatically through the air as Eddie’s toss whooshed into the net. The other, of course, came to rest petulantly on his hip. “Come on, dude, what the hell was that?!” 

“Sorry, man.” Out of all the kids–short of El or Will, at least–Lucas’s guileless smile and innocent shrug always managed to look the most convincing, and now was no exception. “What did you want me to do? Just up and betray my coach completely? No way I could ever do that.”

“Well, whaddya know? Jock solidarity saves the day!” Even though that was a string of words he’d also never thought that he would say out loud, Eddie couldn’t help but cackle, grin wide and toothy enough to do the Cheshire Cat proud. “You snooze you lose, Munson!”

He watched as Steve’s jaw clenched, the determined smirk that settled onto his face suggesting that they were all in big trouble. 

“Oh, it is so on!”

After that, allegiances shifted at the drop of a hat, the causes varying from perceived slights like a foul or a fake out, or simply when one of their merry band of players spotted a weakness and saw an opening to take advantage of. Mostly, they each just kept track of their own individual scores, cheering each other on or booing wildly depending entirely upon whose side they happened to be on in that particular moment. 

And while Steve and Lucas might have started out at an advantage, Eddie was quick to catch up. His aim was undeniably kinda shoddy, but scoring came to him pretty much the exact same way that dribbling had–the less he thought about it, the better he was. It was a little disconcerting, that going into autopilot seemed to activate some of Steve’s body’s latent athletic abilities, like a sleeper agent that had been triggered by the right code phrase. The whole thing felt very sci-fi, as if Eddie had gone to sleep and been transformed overnight into the bionic man, with new robotic implementations that could do all sorts of things he never dreamed of before. 

…Which really wasn’t too far off the genre mark, considering conscious-swapping or whatever the hell it was that had happened to them read like a story straight from the stack of pulpy Weird Tales comics Eddie kept stashed under his bed. 

The clear and very deliberate performance Steve was giving didn’t exactly hinder Eddie’s gains, either. While he kept up the appearance of some of the skills he had already cultivated for Eddie, maintaining that image of being surprisingly-good-at-this-for-his-first-time, Eddie noticed Steve fudging things a bit more than he had during their practice. 

Like letting Lucas easily steal the ball away from him before sending a quick wink Eddie’s way. 

Or missing a shot that was practically guaranteed because he tripped over his own feet at the last second, in keeping with Eddie’s trademark klutziness. 

(Although in that last example, Eddie’s body might have actually been to blame. It was kind of hard to tell, from the outside looking in.) 

Whenever Steve–or Lucas, for that matter–did something right, however, Eddie was quick with his praise. Staying in-character, he knew, meant tapping into that same air of confident yet peppy and supportive co-captain Steve had shown himself to be all afternoon.

So when Steve managed what looked like a particularly complicated shot from the three point line, Eddie instantly crowed, “Holy shit, Eds. With moves like that, you’re gonna make me jealous!”

The redness already spilling across Eddie’s pale skin had crept all the way up to his exposed ears, then, and he honestly couldn’t tell if Steve was flushing from the heat or the way Eddie was laying it on so thick. Given Steve’s only answer was to duck his head and knock his shoulder gently against Eddie’s with a quiet Shut up! all he really knew was that he’d say whatever it took to get that kind of reaction out of Steve again.  

Soon after, Lucas had pulled off basically the same move, mimicking Steve exactly–clearly, the kid had been paying attention. 

“Nice one, Sinclair! No way in hell that coach of yours won’t have you off the bench for good in no time.” 

That had earned him a subtle ‘ok’ sign from Steve, clearly pleased that Eddie had managed to use some of their whispered, crash course basketball terminology correctly in a sentence. 

Eddie scored a couple more points himself, and so by the time Steve successfully went in for his next one, he couldn’t resist getting a little cocky and teasing. 

“You can thank my excellent coaching skills for that.” And, because he wasn’t above playing dirty, he punctuated the statement by giving Steve a quick swat on the ass, morbidly curious to see if the color on his ears would deepen. 

…It did, as it turned out, though Steve was quick to recover.

“Uh–yeah, yeah. Clearly you were born to teach, Harrington.” Though he tacked on an eye roll and a put-upon tone, Eddie hadn’t miss the way Steve preened a little after he had said it. 

“Fuck yeah I was!” Snapping his fingers, Eddie shot one of Steve’s dorky finger guns in his direction. “And don’t you forget it.”

The game stayed fast flowing, the points ever changing. One moment, Steve was at 7, Lucas 6, and Eddie trailed behind at 5. But soon Eddie found himself tied for first after two lucky shots in a row. He couldn’t sit easy for long, though, what with Lucas making a sudden comeback to pull ahead of them both. On and on they went, steadily climbing their way towards that winning score, neck and neck all the time. 

Sure, it wasn’t exactly Hellfire, but looking at it as one-to-one combat, its very own system of HP and Ability Scores included and all, he could admit that he was starting to see the appeal. 

…In more ways than one. 

Because unfortunately for Eddie, his little problem from earlier, the one he’d promised himself he’d put a pin in, hadn’t just evaporated once the real game started. Sure, there wasn’t quite as much skin-to-skin contact as there had been in the practice run, but, as it turned out, basketball wasn’t exactly an at-an-arms-length kind of sport. Which meant that Steve was there, more often than not, hovering at Eddie’s back to–usually successfully–block his shots. 

And Eddie was probably a very, very sick man. 

Because the sight of his jock best friend, all sweaty and grinning and glowing with it as he, Jesus H. Christ, pressed right up against him–well. That was enough to leave Eddie riled up and breathless, excited in a not at all sports-appropriate way…despite the fact that Steve was currently running around in his body. 

And, sure, okay, so he regularly popped boners when he saw Steve in this state. But that was different, because that was Steve–lovely, Adonis-like Steve, with his swooping perfect hair and gorgeous hazel eyes and stupidly muscled calves. 

…But, then again, so was this. 

Eddie saw it, in the competitive gleam in Steve’s eyes, the way he kept licking his lips in concentration each and every time he and Eddie squared off. It was there every time Lucas scored a basket, and Steve’s face instantly lit up with naked delight. In every whoop and shout and excited clap of his hands as he cheered them all on, or chant of hustle, hustle, hustle when he felt one of them was lagging behind. Hell, even when he was doing a dorky little victory dance and Eddie had to literally tackle Steve to stop him from embarrassing him and sullying his reputation even further, it was still all he could see. 

He might be hidden behind Eddie's pale skin, disheveled hair, and too wide eyes–but every tic, every word, every silly little gesture made it all too obvious that that was still undeniably Steve, shining out underneath. 

Great, Eddie was probably going to give his own heart a boner next.

So it was really no wonder when it gave a flip, the next time Steve decided to direct some of that earnest, positive attention his way.

“Alright, let’s go, let’s go,” Steve chanted.

He was doing a masterful job of playing keep away between Eddie and the goal. Despite their difference in stature, his chest felt as firm as a wall every time Eddie’s shoulder knocked against it, trying and failing to dodge him. And the sparkle in Steve’s eye, which Eddie caught when he turned to shield the ball from being stolen away like a bounty in the night, made it clear that he wasn’t the only one having fun with their roughhousing. 

“That’s it,” Steve said, half-goading, half-encouraging. “Show me what you got, Harrington.”

“Oh, just you wait. You ain’t seen nothing yet, Munson.”

At the last second, Eddie feinted to the left, swiveling around him and just managing to toss the ball through the net. He wasn’t even going to give Steve’s superhuman physique credit for that one–the fake out was all him, years of evading schoolyard bullies and learning to lean into his own natural noodle-like motions taking over. 

“Check me out!” he hollered, resisting the urge to tack on a Take that, you silly orange sphere!

And despite the fact that Eddie had just outpaced him, Steve was all smiles. “Yeah, you know, you’re looking pretty good out there, champ.” 

Though the last word was tacked on mockingly, clearly a jab at Eddie’s imitation from earlier, the rest of the statement came out in a low, warm tone. That, coupled with the private, pleased look he was sending him, was enough to make a flash of heat run through Eddie, his blood pumping in all the wrong ways. 

Grasping for hair that wasn’t there to chew on, he stuttered out, “I’m, uh–gonna take five real quick.”

Then, with a final jab of his thumb, Eddie scampered off the court, suddenly glad for the bright, mid-afternoon sun to explain away his flush. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if it wasn’t partially to blame. Even in Steve’s body, which was certainly more equipped than Eddie’s would have been to handle all the running and jumping and throwing even practice basketball apparently required, he still found himself winded and panting. So much so he was a tiny bit grateful for the excuse for a water break, as he guzzled from the bottle Erica handed to him.

When he flopped down onto the bench beside her, wiping away the sweat that had gathered at his hairline with the back of his hand, Erica sent him a smug, knowing look. 

“I’m onto you, you know.”

Eddie froze mid-sip, like a deer in the headlights. The soothing cold liquid–which he’d been gulping down like it was the Elixir of Life–now betrayed him, nearly choking him to death. 

“You’re, uh…” he managed to squeak out, hoping the coughing fit would serve as explanation enough for his change in tone. He had to bite his tongue to prevent the shit shit shit that threatened to spill from his lips. “What is it you’re onto now, exactly?”

There, that sounded suitably baffled and low-key exasperated, Steve-like on all fronts. Not suspicious at all. 

If someone could just let his frantic, speeding pulse know that, then he’d be really cooking with gas.

Leaning into him conspiratorially, the perfect posture for sharing secrets, Erica said in a low undertone, “Don’t tell anybody I said this, but it was kinda cute, what you did back there.”

Now, Eddie was totally lost. “Pray tell, what was cute, Baby Sinclair?”

Her face screwed up in an over-the-top display of disgust. “Ew, nevermind, I take it back. You two have been spending way too much time together. Don't ever call me that again.”

Grinning at her dramatics despite himself, Eddie pointed out, “That still doesn't answer my question…Erica.”

Rolling her eyes, letting her exasperation be known, she exclaimed, “I meant the way you memorized all that stuff about Gauntlet to impress Eddie!”

She hadn’t tacked an actual duh onto the end, but he could read between the lines well enough to know it was heavily implied. 

The good news was–one crisis, and the big one at that, had been truly and firmly averted. Clearly, Erica still thought she was talking to Steve. 

The bad news, of course, came from the fact that she wasn’t…and that it definitely had not been Steve, rambling away back at the arcade. No, that had all been Eddie’s own screw up, his inability to keep his mouth shut when it came to his passions getting in the way and threatening to blow their cover. 

So, whatever point Erica was trying to make now–and already, Eddie suspected he might have a sinking suspicion just what that point was–the evidence was stacked against her, even though she didn’t know it.

“But you don't have to try so damn hard, you know. Look.”

Eddie followed Erica's nod to where Steve was currently playing keep away with Lucas, his smile bright and carefree. He was in his element, happy. When he looked like that, Eddie couldn't even remotely pretend to be annoyed at Steve for using his body for jock purposes. 

“Clearly, he likes you.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, like she accepted the truth of it as easily as the sky being blue and Hawkins being overrun by monsters on an annual basis.  

An overwhelming surge of affection swelled in him for the tiny, badass girl beside him. He was touched by the nonchalance of it, the way she was discussing her babysitters, two guys, possibly having crushes on each other without so much as batting an eye. 

Enough so that, just for a second, he let himself get lost in the moment. “That so? I mean…you really think he does?”

“Damn straight. You think Eddie would play sports for just anybody?” she cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. 

And well…what the hell could Eddie say to that, other than to agree? He knew firsthand just how true it was, that he wouldn’t be out here for just anybody, especially before today. 

“Nah. No way in hell he would. But it's…kinda a tad more complicated than that.”

Because, stepping back to reality, those were all the signs that Eddie liked Steve, scrambled and distorted by their current situation. How Steve felt about him–he honestly still had no firm idea on that. 

Plus, at present, there were far too many confusing layers to try and unpack it all. Least of all here, with Erica Sinclair–no matter how uncannily insightful she might be for her age.

“Look, we’re just, uh…” Eddie searched for the phrasing Robin was always throwing around, whenever people questioned why she and Steve weren’t dating despite being practically psychically linked, “capital P platonic friends. Nothing more than that, okay? Pinkie swear.”

He extended a little finger to her, ready to seal the deal, but Erica ignored it with a dismissive psst.

“Yeah, right,” she said flatly, “Tell that to the sickening moon eyes you get every time he's around.”

“What the hell, man? There are no moon eyes!” Eddie protested, sounding suitably Steve-levels of scandalized, mostly because…well. He was sure as all hell that he would have noticed them if there had been!

“Boys,” Erica shook her head, sounding both resigned and disappointed, “so stupid.”

“Shit, no one's arguing with that,” he agreed readily. “But, uh…you think we can keep this little chat between us? I mean–it’s not exactly the sorta thing you wanna go around spouting off here, in Hawkins. You know what I’m saying?”

Because as much as it touched him that Erica clearly didn’t care one way or the other, and he certainly wasn’t looking to discourage that–he still wanted to make sure she exercised some caution. For them, for the party, for herself. Eddie knew from experience…not everyone took as kindly to that sort of talk as he did. 

“I know that. Think I’d just go blabbing your business all over town to anybody but you two? No,” she mimed locking her lips shut and throwing away the key. “I’m like Fort Knox, and don’t you forget it.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I didn’t think you would, it’s just–maybe, uh. Don't even mention it to me later on. ‘Kay?”

“You are so weird,” Erica informed him, blunt as ever.

“Oh, trust me, you don’t even know the half of it.” He bit his bottom lip, not quite able to tamp down on his wry half-smile. She was talking to the Freak of Hawkins High after all. He’d heard way worse. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I'll keep your little secret. But I reserve the right to say I told you so. And,” she jabbed a finger in his direction, “don't say I never did anything for you.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Eddie gave her a mock salute, which earned him her exhausted, withering side eye. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Hey, Steve!” He looked up to find Steve doing his best to block Lucas’s next shot, moving around the court with all the grace and swiftness of a dancer. “You wanna help me out here, dude, or what?”

Eddie popped up, bouncing down from the bleachers in a single, smooth jump. “Duty calls!”

Trotting back out towards the court, he watched the two of them face off, Lucas dribbling closer and closer to his target. 

“Get him, Lucas!” Erica heckled, loud enough the sound of her voice reverberated in his wake. 

And it seemed Lucas was about to do just that–until Steve twisted, clearly going for the same maneuver he’d used to sneak away the ball from Eddie earlier. Eddie’s breath caught, anticipation thrumming through him as he waited for Steve’s inevitable victory. 

…Except then Steve let out a pained shout, crumbling in on himself and just barely managing not to hit the pavement. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Eddie’s heart was in his throat. He had never been so happy to have an added burst of speed in his life, all but flinging himself across the court to get to Steve. “Jesus Christ, Jesus H. Christ!”

With Lucas so close, he was already stooped over and speaking in a soft voice by the time Eddie skidded to a halt beside them. “Eddie? Hey, man, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Steve hissed, waving them both off on instinct–the Harrington hero complex, back at it again. “Or, okay…maybe fine’s being a little bit generous here.”

He caught Eddie’s eyes, then, sending him a look of concern mixed with the slightest hint of accusation. Which was pretty rich, considering how willing Steve had been to brush it all off just a minute ago, until it caught up with him just whose pain he was actually currently dealing with.  

“Uh, yeah, you’re–not looking so hot there, buddy.” There was a joke in there somewhere, about how Steve wasn’t exactly his usual handsome self, but he was clearly hurting too much to catch it. …Not that Eddie was sure he would have taken it too kindly if he had. “Here, Eddie, man, let me help you out.”

He rushed to catch Steve on the opposite side from the one he was favoring, helping to support his weight. 

“Anything I can do?” Lucas asked, hovering nervously, the corners of his mouth tugged down into a concerned frown. 

“No, I’m alright. I’m alright,” Steve repeated, a variation on his refrain from before, like saying it enough times would make it so. “Harrington’s got me.”

He didn’t quite tack on the flirtatious Don’t ya, big boy? from the RV, but the memory of it echoed between them nonetheless. 

“That I do.” Eddie gave Lucas a nod. “Go on ahead, Sinclair. We’ll be right behind you.”

While Lucas hesitantly led the way, Steve sent Eddie a feeble smile, his teeth still gritted in pain as he leaned into him heavily. “...Thanks.”

Guilt raged inside him, both at the simple fact that Steve was now having to deal with his body’s bullshit, and that he hadn’t thought to tell him to be on the lookout for the warning signs that things were about to go sideways. 

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Then he added in a low undertone. “Least I can do…especially since it’s my fault in the first place.” 

“Come on, dude, don’t do that,” Steve chided automatically. Shooting a look in Lucas’s direction, his next words came out hushed. “...But we’re totally gonna talk about the fact that you’ve been hiding this from all of us later.” 

��‘Hiding’ is such a strong word.”

Steve’s expression went completely deadpan.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. Like you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing if you were in my shoes? No way, man. I know you too damn well for that, Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m in them now.” He inclined his head towards where he was slowly shuffling Eddie’s Reeboks over the blacktop. “And from where I’m standing, I feel pretty confident saying you definitely should have told us.”

“Funny, that didn’t exactly sound like a denial of your own tendency towards knightly stoicism, good sir.” 

“In English, please, Eds. You can’t seriously expect me to translate your nerdy talk when my side hurts like hell.”

Eddie winced, the guilt back in full force. “Shit, sorry. What I’m saying is…nowhere in there did I hear you say you’d tell me, or Robin, or the kids if you got in a bad way. In fact, all evidence points to the contrary.”

“...That’s not the point.” 

“Kinda is, sweetheart.”

The endearment was one Eddie usually reserved for when he was feeling bold enough to indulge in a little playful flirtation, but in that moment it had just sort of…slipped out. 

Steve didn’t seem to mind it, though, given he didn’t so much as stiffen, instead staying firmly burrowed into Eddie’s side. Then again, the pain was probably acting as a powerful distraction. 

Once they finally made their way to the bleachers and back within earshot of the kids, Steve murmured, “We’re so not done with this.” A promise and a threat, all rolled up into one.

“Rest now, man. There’ll be plenty of time to scold me later.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Steve did as instructed. He winced while Eddie helped ease him down into a sitting position, and Eddie couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath alongside him, as if the pang had shot through them both. 

“What happened?” Erica demanded. She was standing up fully in the bleachers now, the annoyance radiating off of her betraying just how worried she really was. 

“A taste of karma, probably,” Eddie joked, trying to inject a bit of levity into the tenseness that had settled all around them. “After years of badmouthing, isn’t it only natural basketball would turn the tables and try to eliminate him, finally seek its long-awaited revenge?” 

Lucas and Steve both sent him wide-eyed looks, a mixture of horror and guilt on their faces, but Erica only snorted. 

“See? She thought it was funny.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s a psycho,” Lucas accused glibly. Erica stuck out her tongue in reply, the pair of them momentarily diverted, just like he’d hoped they would be. 

“It’s not a big deal. I just–went a little too hard, too fast. That’s all,” Steve assured them, before adding pointedly, “After everything, it’s pretty clear I’ve still got some healing to do. Which…duh. Plus it wouldn’t, like, kill me to take it a little easier on myself.”

Lucas cringed in sympathy nonetheless. “Sorry your first game didn’t exactly go like we planned.”

Eddie was intimately familiar with Steve’s blank, hiding-the-pain expression, so he recognized it easily on his own face. Still, Steve managed to muster up a stiff smile for the kid. 

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Sinclair. Chin up. Comes with the territory, right? It’s not like it was your fault…or anybody’s, really.” His eyes deliberately darted to meet Eddie’s. “It’s just…one of those things, you know?”

“Does this mean you’re not gonna wanna play with us anymore?” The words came out of Lucas in a rush, his eyes flitting guiltily between Steve and Eddie, then back again. 

In spite of Steve’s reassurances, it was clear he was still trying to shoulder some of the burden. Alongside that, though, Eddie thought he heard just a touch of disappointment. 

Steve turned to gaze up at Eddie, chewing on his bottom lip. He could see that same sense of hesitancy reflected in wide brown eyes. 

“Aww, you can’t run out on us now, Eds. You promised you were trying to turn over a new leaf here,” Eddie wheedled, batting his eyelashes. 

It was a move straight out of the “Harrington Charm” handbook, one Steve had jokingly pulled plenty of times before, whenever he wanted to twist Eddie’s arm on something. 

(And so what if Eddie caved to it basically each and every time? He was only human.) 

“Once you’re back at full fighting shape…you gotta come back. Right? After all, can’t let all those hidden talents go to waste, now can we?”

Matching expressions of giddy relief bloomed over both Lucas and Steve’s faces, bright enough to warm even the deepest cockles of Eddie’s once sports-hating heart. 

“Of course I can’t,” Steve snapped a finger in Lucas’s direction. “So you better keep up the practice, Sinclair. I want you in tip-top shape for our rematch.”

Lucas nodded eagerly. “You got it!”

In the past couple of hours, Steve had probably done more to convince Lucas of Eddie’s sincerity when it came to that future apology than he had managed on his own in months. For that, he’d be eternally grateful.

“Can’t believe the two of you managed to turn Eddie Munson of all people into a sports fan,” Erica said drily, though Eddie caught the knowing twinkle in her eye. 

“I mean, it was only a matter of time before I turned to the, uh,” Steve’s brow wrinkled briefly before his face lit up, finally landing on the reference he was searching for, “the light side of the force.”

Star Wars, that was the one area of nerd culture where he could–usually–be counted on. 

“Think that near fall might have rattled you more than we thought,” Eddie ribbed good-naturedly. “Next thing you know, you’ll be denouncing your life of delinquency and D&D and joining up with one of those sports club thingies down at the YMCA.” 

Steve’s grin was wicked. “Hey, I already know I look good in these shorts. Maybe I could pull off a jersey, too.”

Eddie flushed as Steve’s fingers pinched the edge of said tiny basketball shorts, skirting so close to dark leg hair and pale skin he could almost feel it, like the phantom of a touch. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just hurry up and get you home, basketball star.”

With a nod, Steve sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing while he prepared to stand. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold your horses there, Munson.” Eddie dropped a hand on each of his shoulders, effectively pinning him in place. He gave Steve a quick, assessing look. 

Then he nodded once, resolved. 

“What?” Steve asked, glancing around himself in confusion. “What is it? Knock it off, dude, you’re starting to freak me o–” 

Unceremoniously, Eddie scooped him up and into his arms. 

Steve let out a yelp in protest as he rose into the air, arms coming up to wrap instinctively around Eddie’s neck and cling onto him tightly. “Oh my God, oh my God! If you drop me, man, I swear to God–”

Careful of Steve’s now sensitive side, Eddie gave his arms a subtle flex, “With these muscles? Fat chance, dude. Besides, you’re precious cargo. I swear not to harm so much as a single shaggy hair on your head.” 

Up close, the redness on the tips of his ears really was something. Eddie would have to remember that for later, make sure to drag his wild mane over more than just his face whenever he got embarrassed. 

Lucas groaned, faking a gag. “Seriously, guys? Not in front of the children.” 

Beside him, however, Erica looked positively gleeful. 

It was Eddie’s turn to feel that tell-tale flame of heat creeping over his face, for being quite that obvious. At least the eldest Sinclair was just playing it off as more of the ‘Mom and Dad’ routine he’d accused them of earlier. 

Determined not to appear more flustered than he already did, he gave the pair of them a quick jerk of his head. “Move out, troops.”

Fortunately, they started heading towards the car with little fanfare, the peanut gallery for once falling blissfully silent. 

As Eddie fell into step behind them, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to keep an even pace, even with Steve in tow. He knew he was a bit gangly, sure, but he wasn’t exactly a small guy. So, honestly, it came as a shock, just how light his body felt in Steve’s strong arms. 

“Okay, but seriously,” Steve started, tone furtive, “you know you really don’t have to do this.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Eddie clucked his tongue. “Au contraire, my good man. Lest we forget, post-bat attack, you were the one who literally held my guts in.” 

The pale skin of the face Steve was currently wearing went even paler, and not because Eddie had done anything as thoughtless as accidentally jostle him. “Jesus, Eds, don’t remind me.”

“All I’m saying is, I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to return the favor, after something like that. So, shush, Harrington. Sit back, relax, and…I don’t know. Maybe try to enjoy the ride?”

And though Steve did grumble out a few more half-hearted protests, he also seemed to melt more solidly into Eddie’s hold after that. For all his insistence that Eddie should be doing a better job looking after himself, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since Steve let someone take care of him like this. 

So when Steve finally let go enough to rest his head against Eddie’s chest, a warm weight above the steady beat of Eddie’s borrowed heart, he quietly resolved to take on that mantle for himself, always be at the ready to catch Steve if he fell. 

If I accidentally missed anybody on the taglist, or you’d like to be added, please let me know!

Taglist: @tinytalkingtina @sidekick-hero @thefreakandthehair @lingeringmirth @eriquin

@grimweathers @too-efn-old-to-be-here @stevesworldxx @themellowyellowmomma @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @ellietheasexylibrarian @sharingisntkaren @a-lovely-craziness @highkingpenny

[cushfuddled]

I wish I didn't hate Ed and Stede but here we are I guess

I didn't have time to put a section about this in my review (since it would add another ten minutes onto a fifty minute video hhhhh) but I just gotta take a second and vent about how much I dislike Stede and Ed in season two.

When I watched season two for the first time, I assumed I didn't ship Gentlebeard anymore because I'd...I dunno...gotten bored of the ship or whatever. But when I went back to rewatch season one, I was immediately sucked back into the Ed/Stede jet engine. I loved them through the finale, up until around the middle of season two...at which point I became totally disinterested again.

Even going back through season one clips for this review...the chemistry is soooo strong for me. The only time I got that feeling from season two was like, from the mermaid scene and the finger-stacking scene.

And I honestly think my disinterest stems from the fact that I can't stand Ed and Stede as characters anymore. They're dicks in season one, but ANNOYING dicks in season two, and I guess I just...don't ship characters who make me want to tear my hair out.

In season two, Ed behaves like a petulant five year old with a gun. It's so "say sorry to your friend right now!" "I don't wanna! :(" followed by a stint in the time out chair and a mumbled non-apology. For all of season two, Ed behaves like a spoiled brat, and I really can't stand it.

My friend pointed out that Ed is in a position where he needs to reparent himself. His emotional development likely stopped around the time he killed his dad (when he was still a kid). No one modeled healthy behavior and emotional regulation for Ed past the age of...maybe fifteen? So of course he's gonna behave like a kid. It's gonna be a long road for Ed to learn these regulating strategies as an adult, and I guess...hhhhhh.

None of Ed's trauma excuses Ed from torturing and traumatizing his crew. It feels shitty to find a deeply traumatized character's behavior "annoying," but...I mean. I say this as someone who's experienced suicide ideation myself: Ed isn't real, and I'm not Ed's friend, and so I don't really feel obligated to extend patience and understanding to a fictional construct when that construct spends 90% of his screen time behaving like a stuck up, self-obsessed, capricious, whiny, murderous asshole.

Add season-two-Stede to the mix and CHRIST...Stede—like Ed—was always a dick, but the way he encouraged Lucius to divulge his trauma only to react with cartoonish disgust, cower like a cornered animal, and then flee while begging Lucius to be quiet...

Then Stede decides to veto the crew's decision to ban Ed—their abuser—from the ship ("talk it through as a crew" my ass)...? Oh, and gotta love how Stede-"I've been the cause of death. It changes you"-Bonnet sets a guy on fucking fire and laughs, then kills a bunch of English soldiers with nary a backward glance. Okay. Would've loved some kind of exploration re: that major heel turn, but fine. And then Ed and Stede stand over Izzy's grave—the (mutilated) body of their dear friend and crewmate—and their combined eulogy amounts to "He was tense. Very tense." "Yeah, he was a fucking nightmare. What a guy." How endearing. Season two turned these two bastards (affectionate) into bastards (derogatory) for me and I'm still salty about it. God DAMMIT.

[tparker48]

Request for anonymous

Fog scoured over the cul-de-sac as the sun rose from its curtain of mist. In a house at the ed of the street, a tall man named Guro Awakened from his slumber lumbering himself out of bed as he stared groggily at the clock.

“6AM..” he rubbed his chin, “Fuck we overslept, we need to get to airport..” he stuck his toothbrush in his mouth before heading to the bedroom, two lumps bunched beneath a sheet on the windowsill. He prodded at their curvatures with a finger. "Brock, Jerry, up and adam! We're gonna be late for the flight if we’re not gone in a few minutes."

The lumps shift beneath the sheets, growing in size as the cotton balls surrounding them dispersed to the floor. Scrawny arms poked from one side of the cover, a pair of feet extending from the other.

"Oh..shit.." one of the tinies stretched, their curly hair spiraling spreading from the cover like wires. “You just had to pick the morning flight..” Jerry rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked to the lump next to him, nasally rumbles lingering beneath them as he nudged a foot into its side. “Brock, stop acting like a brick and get up already.”

The exposed toes curled, cowering beneath the sheets as the tiny groaned groggily. "Why’d you have to go and kick me?” he wiped the slobber from the corner of his mouth, “ I was just having the best dream of my life."

"You say that every night, dear."

"Well it's true."

Guro rolled his eyes, taking to the window as he plucked the two from the platform. He lumbard toward a table, placing them on top as he made his way for his luggage in the chair. Today was the day the three of them went on their trip to Vegas. Since he was a kid he always dreamed of visiting there, his fantasy running wild of the possibilities he’d find. Fame, fortune, hell even the chance to see good actors. His mind thrived on the potential for him to explore, but nothing spiked his interest more, than to find someone who could take on his size.

He dabbled in a few hook ups during his time in the city, managing to fish a few guys here and there looking for a good time. But his tall physique was like kryptonite to potential seekers, each cowering before the colossal ass that spreads before him. He had no luck here, but that didn’t mean he won’t find one out there.

Finishing the rest of his packing, he placed the two love birds into his pocket before heading out of the door and to his car. And with that they were off to the airport, Guro taking the south highway that shortened the 40 minute drive through traffic. By the time they reached the main entrance, the sun rose over the hills, its crimson glow shining over the land.

Guro parked the car as he fetched the two from his pocket. "Alright we got about an hour before the flight boards.”

“Perfect, then that leaves us plenty of time to prepare.” Jerry hopped onto the glove compartment and kicked the loose panel, a bottle of anti-digest jostling to the edge. “I knew these would come in handy someday, it’s the perfect heist for the stomach.”

“About that, why again are you guys going in my stomach?”

“You’re the one that said the cost was too expensive for the three of us, so I thought of an alternative.” Jerry plucked one of the pills. “You get to sit all cozy in your chair, while me and hubby travel in your stomach.”

“It still doesn’t sound appealing when I hear it a second time around.” Guro said. “Having you two inside me sounds way too weird.”

“Relax, it’ll be fine.” Brock chimed in, “Just think of me and Jerry like skittles.”

He shuddered at the thought of swallowing his two friends, looking to his watch as time edged toward seven o’ clock. With a sigh, he grabbed a water bottle from the cup holder, untwisting the cap of the pills as he two. He washed it down his throat, before picking up Jerry and Brock, hovering them in front of his mouth.

“Here goes nothing..” He parted his lips, sprawling his tongue like a carpet as he tilted his head.

His tongue squished as the two tinies hopped into his gaping maw, sliding down the muscular appendage like penguins as they darted into his awaiting gullet. His lips scrunched as his throat worked at their complex forms, working them past the back of his tongue that rose to the ceiling. He squeezed his tongue against their feet, and his throat gave way, the muscular tube expanding as Jerry and Brock were accepted inside. The descent was like a slugs pace as peristalsis took over, guiding them to the entrance of his stomach.

Getting out of the car, he raised his shirt as his belly distended, a softened handprint poking from his torso. "It's darker in here than I expected,” Jerry said. “did you bring the flashlights with you, Brock?"

"Flashlights? I thought you grabbed them from the nightstand?"

"Why would you think I grabbed them? I was literally right next to you."

"Keep it down you two," Guro pounded at his chest. "we're almost inside."

He entered the sliding doors to the main lobby, other travelers swarming through the corridors like a sea of fish. Guro followed the narrow path to the terminals further in the distances,, ushering the shoulder of others to clear a way for his hefty luggage that nipped at his heels. He visited the check in machine, grabbing a ticket for his things as he dropped them with the attendees.

Dropping his luggage off, he spread his arms like wings, popping the cramps on his shoulder for hauling the heavy thing. He approached the line of the terminal, and his sense of his relief dispersed. Security would be up ahead, scanning baggage along with the passengers clothes for any signs of breach in policy. It wasn’t long before one of the officers approached, scanners in hand as they ushered him forward.

He sucked in his gut, and the scanning commenced as the coned device raised up and down his body. "Scanner's seem all clear, proceed." one of the officers said.

Guro nodded, moving through the terminals to the connecting hallway. He looked out of the translucent window to metal fins gliding over parts of the platform, the head of the plane turning the corner like a shark as it docked near the loading bay.

Movement stirred inside of him, his abdomen bucking as limbs twisted over the other. "Ugh, I knew I should’ve woke up earlier.” Jerry muffled, “ my cock’s leaking like a faucet for release.”

"Fear not my dear hubby, for your noble night shall ease your stress." Brock said.

Guro cheeks flushed, pounding a fist at his chest. " You two are not fucking in my stomach, it’s hard enough trying to keep you down already."

"Fine fine, party pooper.” Jerry said, “Then let’s at least get some grub, I’m starving in here!"

"Yeah!" Brock chimed.

“What? I just told-”

"Food! Food! Food!" the couple chanted, bouncing wall to wall as if they were seeds in a popcorn kettle.

"Alright, Alright already. just stop with the bouncing."

It was a good walk as Guro traversed deeper into the airport. Searching for the docking terminal, he followed the bolded signs that hung from the ceiling as they pointed further down the hall, leading him to the corner of the building where travelers waited for the aircraft.

Good, he still had some time to get those two some food. He followed a vertical path to a few shops stationed along the walls, passing by refreshment and accessories before he got to the food court section of the building. Snackbars stationed between the narrow pathways, packets of Doritos stacking their shelves as some spilled from their platform to the Gatorade bottles below.

"Perfect, chips should ease you two until we land." he said.

"Chips? No way! they'd be waterlogged by the time it enters in here." Brock said.

"It'll be soggy regardless once it gets there," he replied. "If that won't work then what do you want?"

"Burgers!"

"What? no that's too-"

"Ooo burgers, great Idea!" Jerry chimed. "What better way to kick things off than to have a burger!"

"A burger is way too greasy right now lets-"

"burgers! Burgers!" the couple chanted, bulges dancing beneath his tank top.

For fuck sake. He held his stomach extending a sheepish way to passerbys before speed walking around a corner. A burger parlor rested ahead, guarded by a crossroad as passengers passed to and from the bridges connecting it. He ordered his food and made his way to a booth facing the stream of other flight goers, fiddling the ticket number of his order between his fingers.

"Be sure to add extra cheese!"

"Oh! and ketchup, don't forget the ketchup!

Guro pounded his stomach. "Will you two pipe down, if you keep it up someone will-"

"Man all this traffic today," a smooth yet gruff voice said from behind, passengers splitting apart as a short lean man stepped through them. "Who’s bright idea was it to put this place in such a piss poor spot? I’m getting a wedgie down here."

The small man wrestled with his pants as he traversed to the booths. As he looked to the other tables occupied by guests, his gaze met Guro’s who peeked over his arm.

“Hey you, that seat next to yours taken?” the man pointed at the booth.

"Oh, uh no. It's all yours." Guro replied, gesturing a hand to the seat next to him.

The short man let out a sigh, the gears of the seat creaking as he crashed down upon it. “Ah, thank god, I can finally sit and eat.” He sat his tray upon the table.

Guro held a hand to his face as he focused on the passing passengers, the sound of paper unraveling as the lean man unwrapped his burger. Not a moment later, a waiter arrived with his food as they placed it on the tray. He picked up a stray fry, dipping it into ketchup as he nibbled over his shoulder.

The lean man tore into his burger as ketchup splattered the wrapper. "Say, I haven't seen you around these parts.” He garbled over his food, “You knew to this airport?"

Guro froze. "You could say that, I..don't really travel a lot."

I see," the lean man swallowed his chewed food, pounding at his chest. He extended a hand to Guro. "Well let me be the first to welcome you. Name’s Gary, it’s good to see new faces around here."

“Guro," He replied, shaking his hand. “I’m sure you meet a lot of folks out there.”

“Oh sure, I've seen so many passenger’s I’ve lost count. Met a few good ones over the years..” He stirred a fry into his ketchup. “And busted a few too.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Oh..you have? It must be..pretty rough.”

“Ugh tell me about it, they come out of the woodwork and think they run the entire place. Man, they give me gray hairs.” Gary said, “But nothing grinds my gears more than those with tinies.”

Guro’s eyes widened at the statement, fiddling with his straw. “Yeah?..”

“Totally. Smuggling them on board in my presence, it just makes me so..so..” He pounded his fist against his palm. “gah, they're lucky I’m at work. But you know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah yeah, I do, totally.” Guro fanned the air, sipping at his straw. “Those..rotten smugglers, why if they were I would-”

"cold! cold!" a faint mutter escaped his stomach..

His body locked, punching into his own stomach. Gary was caught aback, the lid of his drink popping undone.

"Woah there, drink went down the wrong pipe huh?"

"Y..yeah, guess I must've drank too long." He replied, holding at his stomach.

"Give me the fry!"

"get your own, I saw it first"

Guro froze again, looking to Gary who stood there attentively.

The side of his cheek twitched. "Ahe, you know I think my ears are whack from working on flights, but I could’ve sworn I heard some little voices just now."

"No! No! Not at all, I’m sure it was just uh..the conditioning."

“Nah, it sounded like voices alright. Just like it sounds like smuggling.” Gary leaned closer. “And when there’s smuggling in my presence, I-”

He jumped out of his seat. "Would you look at the time, I really must be getting to my flight.”

Guro scampered into the sea of passengers, rushing back to the narrow hallway he came from. He caught a glimpse of Gary’s stern stare, before it disappeared around the corner. —---------------------------

that was close, he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold that conversation. He lifted his shirt and gazed at his round belly, the lumps of his abs rising and falling as the two tinies danced beneath its layer.

"Can you guys at least try to keep things low? that guy was onto us." he said.

His stomach grumbled, Jerry’s voice resonating. “Wal..we…”

“What?”

“Hun, don’t try to speak with your mouthful” Brock replied. “It's just a minor hiccup, Guro. it slipped out.”

“Well don’t do it again or we’ll be caught.”

He returned to the main path of the hallway, joining the crowd that lined the entrance to the air bridge. He showed his ticket to the tenders and made his way down the hollow straight way, the hums of the plane's turbines vibrations through the metal floor. A wave of cool conditioning washed over him as he entered the opening of the plane, stray legs in the lane brushing against his own as passengers sat their luggage into the compartments above.

He found a seat in the middle of the plane, taking a seat as he glanced into the Isle. He managed to get on board, thank goodness, that hurtle of their journey was complete. He eyed the other passengers that traveled passed, looking at the metal wig blocking the window frame as its lights blinked. Movement stirred inside his stomach prodding at the muscular wall. He pulled the collar of his shirt over his face, staring at the wobbling lumps i his abdomen.

“Get the energy out while you can you two, it’s gonna be a long trip before we reach vegas.” he said in a lone tone, keeping an eye towards the lane.

“Easier said than done when your cock’s craving release. ” Jerry replied. “Blasted thing’s still leaking.”

“For the last time, you’re not fucking in my stomach.”

Jerry slouched against a fold in the fleshy chamber. “Ah come on, how else are we gonna get through this trip.”

“Because we almost got caught with you two’s bickering.” Guro replied.

“You’re still o about that guy back there, there’s no way he’d follow you in here.” Brock chimed, “Poor bastard’s probably helping the janitor’s than thinking about us.”

"Attention passengers, please listen up for the time being.” a voice called from the cockpit, the heads of passengers splitting as they turned to the front of the plane. Holding a microphone in hand, hidden away by the shoulders of the would be the short man from the burger parlor. "We've got a long flight ahead of us, so if you’d be so kind to keep in your seats we’ll be cruising through to vegas in no time.."

Guro peeked through the curl of the woman in front of him to the front aisle. “Shit..”

“What is it?” Brock asked.

“It’s that Gary guy again, of all the planes to be on it had to be this one.”

The fuzz of Gary’s hair traversed further down the aisle, a pamphlet in hand as he wagged it through the air. "As you all know it's important to ensure your mask is working to full condition," he said, "If you are having issues please let me or our staff.."

He trailed as he came to the middle of the aisle, the corner of Guro’s gaze meeting his own. His eyes were like daggers as they seething their judgments into Guro’s brain, eyebrows furrowing as if to harness their fiery sight.

"…Our staff know at a moment's notice." Gary continued, his steps drawing closer. His curly hair peered from the top of the pamphlet, his eyes locking onto him. "If there aren't any further questions..may you enjoy your flight."

His steps trailed behind, but he could still feel his sharp gaze as he moved to the back of the plane. The tension eased as the aircraft jerked, the docking platform fading from the small window as it faced the runway. The white stripes of the runway zipped through the window frame as the aircraft made its way to its lane. He hoped it would distract him from the sudden predicament, but he couldn’t help but look back to flight attendants buckling their belts, Gary side-eying him from a seat along the wall.

He leaned his head against the chair, and let out a heavy sigh. "This is going to be a long flight.”

--

Some time passed as the plane left the airport, soaring over the mountains decorating the plains below. Guro’s attention aimed at his body as the wall brushed his shoulder, hugging him into the cool interior as the plane tilted to the west. He looked down to his still stomach, prodding at the faint dimple protruding beneath his pecs.

Those two have been quiet since they took off, he’d best check on them.

He scoped the aisle for a second glance, eyeing the slouched necks of fellow passengers who tilted to the ceiling. He lifted his shirt, tapped at his distended gut. "Hey,you two good?.." he asked, his tone overwhelmed by the turbine outside. "Is everything okay in there?"

"Is what okay in there?" A voice startled him, Gary standing in the aisle with a tray.

"Geez you really need a bell, you can't just sneak up on people like that."

"What did I startle you fraidy cat? Its merely time for the passengers to have their snacks for the evening.” He plucked one of the bags from his tray. “I wanted to give you yours personally."

Guro eyed him cautiously. “Why?”

“Think of it as an apology, I’ve been watching you all this time to see if you’d croak. And yet, you sit there without a trouble in hand. So..” he set a couple of bags upon his tray, “I wanted to ensure you get the best nuts I could offer, as tribute.”

"Ah..how kind of you."

"Yes," Gary said. “I hope they're..to your liking."

He cycled to the next passenger, sharing a glance as he handed them peanuts from the trays below. That guy on his ass for so long, he forgot what it felt like to finally breathe in piece.

his stomach rippled as it sung its gurgly song, taps resonating from his abdomen. "What’s this I hear about snacks?" Jerry asked.

"About time you started to speak," he replied, "I thought I digested you too."

"You thought being in here would get the better of us?” Brock said. “It’ll take a lot more than a few burgers and fries for us to kick the bucket."

“Huh, I suppose you have a point.”

“Yeah.” Jerry chimed in, “on a related note, how about those snacks!”

Quick and to the point, that’s the Jerry experience for ya. But his request did linger in his mind, he thought the food from the restaurant would satisfy him for a little longer, but he can already feel his belly yearn for more to fill in its chamber. He looked to the plastic packets on his tray, fondling at their sealed ends.

"Why not," he picked one of them up, "a few peanuts couldn't hurt."

He tore the flimsy corner of the bag, dumping the miniature contents into his awaiting mouth as he chewed on their salty texture. Their solid form were soon reduced to mush beneath his molars, escorted by his tongue as it slithered down his throat with a simple gulp. Arriving in his stomach, Jerry and Brock became active, swirling inside his belly like pet fish.

"Huh, a little salty but these things actually aren't that bad." Guro opened another packet, tilting the torn opening to feast on the nuts.

He chewed at their crunchy forms once more, lapping at the slaty flakes in torn opening to savor their taste. But his stomach twisted as a bulge pushed in his stomach, Jerry and Brock moving around.

"What are you doing down there?" He said in a low tone, tapping at his stomach.

" These nuts are making me.. feel tingly." Brock muttered, kicking into the side of the stomach. “Hehe..my legs feel like jello

"you feel it too, I thought I was the only one." Jerry added, the bulge in his stomach expanding. "You know.. Did I ever tell you? you're.. kinda hot. Like really..really hot."

"Really? I was gonna say the same to you."

Guro shuddered as he felt his stomach swirl, the two tinies swirling around the wall like propellers as their moans reverberated the surrounding flesh. flustered, Guro leaned into his legs, tapping into his gut.

"Hey I told you not..to fuck in-” His stomach bucked as the two drove into stomach wall, footprints marking his abs before sinking back in. “Guys..stop..fucking.”

His words fell on deaf ears, the tinies pressing horizontally into the side of his belly. It was as if he swallowed a dinner plate, his stomach manipulating its curvatures as it squashed against his folds. He gripped at the armrest of his seat, over biting his lower hip.

steps echoed from the lane, Gary returning with a glass beverage. "Oh man, you look like you’re getting put through the ringer there?"

"What did you put in those nuts?" Guro groaned, holding his stomach.

"Nothing, just regular peanuts compared to us." Gary said, "though for small folk, you could say they become more..energetic. good thing it was just you who only drank it, right?" He shared a glance at Guro.

"r..right, no..tinies here."

"Mhm.” Gary plucked the drink from his tray, setting it up on Guro's. “ If there were tinies who ate them, this stuff does the trick for calming them down. Who knows,maybe it'll work on that stomach ache of yours too."

Guro opened his mouth to speak, but shuddered as legs swiped against his belly like brushes. Gary trailed from his gaze, walking down the path as he gazed upon the sloshing liquid in the plastic cup. Not good, if this keeps up he’ll jizz in his pants before they land.

His stomach turned again, his head brushing against the seat as sweat dripped on his brow. Looking to his pants ran through his body, his shaft pulsating as it bulge climbed to the surface. When the tip of his shaft outline the pouch, a wet spot darkening into the fabric, he caved.

He raised the plastic cup against his lips. swallowing ice and all as its cubes raced down his pipe. It sizzled along his tongue like sprite, its suds raced down his throat as it collected into his stomach. He shook the cup until the last drop met his tongue, slamming it upon his tray. His stomach expanded, the cool liquid spinning inside the chamber as the two couples calmed themselves.

He took a breath, basking in the hums of the plane. But he froze as the lingering figure returned, a golden name tag appearing in his peripheral.

"So it seems your stomach ache has calmed down, and not a single ice cube in the cup." Gary eyed the empty plastic, his arms crossing across his chest. "I'm sure it doesn’t take an Einstein to know what comes next?"

Guro's face grew dull, rolling his eyes to the window. "Fuck.."

Tires squeaked as the plane arrived at the vegas airport, cruising its way to the corner of the building where an empty air bridge awaited it. Guro stared at the front door, hands gripping his shoulders as Gary held him close.

"We have an hour before our next flight," Gary told another flight attendant. "I'm taking this one personally to security."

The flight attendant nodded, informing the captains of the situation. The door's hissed open, and a knee nudged into his legs.

"Is that really necessary-"

a knee struck him again. "Silence troublemaker, you'll be given what you deserve soon enough."

They moved through the long narrow hallway to the entrance, one of the employees opening the door as he stepped outside. Eyes glued onto the display as they moved through passengers, snickers fluttering the crowd as Guro sulked beneath the collar of his shirt. His sense of security was quickly diminished as a nudge yanked the slim fabric from his chin, Gary shoving him into the next corridor. After countless steps, they turned into an empty path, Gary opening a solid door to darkness on the other side.

"After you." Gary escorted him in, tossing him to the middle of the room.

"Look, I get that this wasn't the best idea, but do you know how expensive tickets are nowadays?"

"Oh I know how much they are, but don’t think you’ll get any mercy from it." Gary slammed the door, locking it behind him.

He approached in a slow stride, his form widening in width as he reached Guro’s chest. Even half his size, his demeanor drove his heart to a fast race, his legs backpedaling as the flight attendant gained ground.

Cold steel soon kissed at his back, Gary breath flowing over his chest. "Remember what I said about those with tinies?"

"I..I don't recall."

"I said when I find in my mist, that there will be dire punishment. And when I get my hands on them I-"

Guro shielded his face. "Jail them!"

"Fuck them!"

Guro's shuddering ceased, blinking in confusion. "W..what?"

"You heard me."

"So you did all of this, just to fuck me."

Gary scoffed softly. "Well I gotta get my buzz one way or another. I could’ve called you out at the restaurant, but why spoil it there?"

"b..but-"

a foot lunged toward him, stomping the wall above Guro’s shoulder. "Ain't no buts about it, You're still a troublemaker for making me have to stretch to get the answer out of you.” Gary caressed his chin. “But since you’re kinda cute, I’ll cut ya deal."

He unbuckled his belt before taking to his fly, ringing his finger into the pouch of his boxer. With a flick of his finger, drawed the beast sleeping in his pants. Its slender length swelled against his thigh, its veins pulsing as it pointed its fleshy tip like a spear.

"You can accept your punishment and show me a good time, or I can let security deal with you and far worse."

Guro's cheeks flushed at Gary's options, its energy driving its way through his body as it was fed to his own cock. This predicament was peculiar to what he expected, and yet, it seemed to exhilarate him the more he ran it though his mind. The cock wagged closer, drawing at the air like a magic pencil as its baked musk whipped beneath his nose. His own shaft throbbed in his pants, punching into his pouch as if it were begging to be let out.

He watered his lips. “Just show you a good time?”

“Mhm,” Gary replied, bucking his shaft closer, “show me just enough, and I might let you off the hook.”

He reflected on his words, before looking to his waist. The lengthy appendage flicked as it brushed the tip of his nose, a drop of pre soaking his skin as salt whiffed through his nostrils. He clasped both hands along the leaking head, nodding softly as he felt its strength pulse between his palms..

"Splendid," Gary said, a hint of excitement decorating his tone. "Unbuckle those pants of yours."

Guro adjusted himself from the wall before taking to his belt buckle, unfastening its hold on his waist as the fabric slithered to reveal his toned glutes beneath. Their warm sheets were relieved, a pinch resonating on both cheeks as fingers spreading them apart.

"Well, well, Quite the star you have back here." Gary said.

"T..thanks, I try to keep it cared for in my spare time."

"I can tell, let's see just how taken care of it truly is for my monster."

his hole rippled as fingers prodded its center, flattening the folds between the rings before the phallus made contact. He strained as his anus widened, sliding Gary's girth inside him as it climbed the curvature of his anal walls. The flight attendant thrusted his hips, and their waist's clapped together as if there were a puzzle.

the attendant started to rock, sawing through Guro's ass like a saw as the shaft drove in and out of him. Pump after pump, his toes curled as Gary filled more of him inside, its bulge intermittently appearing beneath his lower abdomen. From mere moments he found himself bending towards the toilet, his own body taking to his shaft to channel the energy to his leaking tip.

As time passes, the two grinded in sync, their symphony of grunts and moans reverberating through the walls of the bathroom.

"Not bad, you're holding punishment well."

"That's nothing..I can take more."

"Oh?” Gary mused, clasping the tender mounds between his palms. “Then I hope you can keep your socks on for the finale."

He thrusted his shaft deeper into Guro, his waist clapping with his as a lump appeared intermittently in his torso. Push after push, a dimple began to form as the phallus imprinted along his abdomen. With a firm ease into Guro, the softened features of the tip appeared, two human shaped silhouettes decorating next to it as they grumbled beneath the tender muscle

"Hmph, so these are the tinies giving you trouble." Gary said.

"they're.. friends of mine." Guro replied.

"I see,” Gary chuckled, stirring Guro's inside like a batter barrel as Jerry and Brock wobbled around. “Seems they're having fun of their own. no wonder you were so skittish on the plane."

His skin bulged like a vacuumed compartment, wincing as the two silhouettes bobbed along his belly like mardi gra shadow puppets. The two of them basked in the silence between them, feeling the attendant's shaft thrust his torso from side to side. but soon a chime rang through the air, the flight attendant checking his phone.

"Looks like it's boarding time, I better get back to the plane" he said, grabbing one of Guro's cheeks as he unplugged his shaft from the depth of his hole, folding a bundle of tissue paper over the tip that leaked the floor. "I assume you can stand on your own?"

Guro rose from the toilet seat, his legs floundering as if they were made of jelly. "Well..more or less."

"Good, I wouldn't want there to be another mess than there already is." Gary said with a pat.

The two of them walked out from the bathroom, Guro waddling toward the door as Gary held it open. Getting into the main hall, security turned from the far corner, their walkie talkies going off as they approached the two.

"There you are, we had a report of some misconduct from the place." One of them said, "Is this who we were sent to retrieve?"

Guro opened his mouth to speak, but Gary's palm raised in front of him. "No, it was a false alarm. I thought we had a troublesome situation, but it's been resolved."

the guards grumbled at the flight attendant's response, nodding softly before they returned to the hallway. disappearing, Guro took a breath.

"I'm..not in trouble."

Gary patted at the cylinder like bulge in his pants. "Consider it a courtesy for a good time."

"I..well-"

"you're welcome." Gary interrupted, handing him a piece of paper from his pocket. "Take this, a voucher next time you fly with us. and be sure to follow the rules next time, can’t guarantee you’ll be let off easy if it's not me."

Guro blinked at the slim piece of paper, taking it from Gary as he slid it into his pocket. With that, he nodded in understanding, Gary acknowledging as he traversed into the hallway. Soon the sound of passing passengers filled the space, leaving Guro with his own thoughts.

fancy that, he thought, to think a simple fuck with a flight attendant would get him off the hook. Whether it was luck or just pure satisfaction, he was glad that hurdle was over and done with. But something else lingered in his mind, a piece he was forgetting, but what?

"Fuck, my baggage!"

Navigating through the halls to the baggage claim downstairs, he had some time to kill as he waited for his transportation to arrive. Sitting along a bench near the entrance, he reflected on the encounter in the bathroom stall, reminiscing over the long slender shaft that once dwelled inside. He fondled the contents of his bloated belly, his fingers squishing upon his abdomen as if it were a water bed. it was..refreshing in a way, at least now he was able to walk straight.

His taxi arrived as he moved to a hotel further up the road, booking a room as he made his way up the flights of stairs to the second floor. He kicked open the door and dropped his bag, heading over to the bathroom as he ventured to the tub. He turned on the shower faucet, warm water washed over him as he squatted over the drain as seed drooled from his hole like an uncapped bottle. Clench after clench its flow moved like a stream melting into a watery substance before it disappeared into the drain.

But the stream began to spurt as solid objects pushed at his hole, forcing him to heave as his ring flexed and contracted. He adjusted his stance and squeezed at his stomach, a wave of seed spewing from his hole and between his legs as it rinsed beneath the water.

A tangle of arms and legs seeped from a wad,its gunk melting away as the two tinies laid along the drain.

“That's what I call a trip.." Jerry mumbled.

"You can say that again." Brock said, looking to Guro who stood over them. “You certainly made a mess. What were you doing out here?”

He shook his head softly. “Just having some fun.”

[tpwkluv]

Em! How we feeling about 1. "How could you? That was my mother's!" For sweet Angel boy Steve Harrington? (P.s. - hi. You’re lovely)

Thank you for the request, my dear anon; however, I have to tell you, this prompt broke my brain. I’m sorry it took so long, and I hope this lil thing does your hopes justice! I wrote so many different stories for this before settling on this.

As always, please feel free to leave any comments and critiques or just chat in general!

P.S. thank you, but not as lovely as you for fueling the creativity of little ole me.

tags/warnings: i do be cursing, small mention of losing a parent, infertility issues, miscarriage, angst, but a happy ending i promise

2.9k prompt: “How could you? That was my mother’s”; almost a decade’s worth of love threatened by a moment of insecurity, in which you have a secret and Steve finds out.

September, 1993

It’s been seven years since Steve asked you to be his girlfriend. Since Hawkins put itself back together with duct tape. A temporary fix, but enough to get by after most of the townsfolk packed their bags and never looked back. Your little group of outcasts had finally come to terms with how fast life can pass by, and Steve couldn’t handle another second without expressing just how much he needs you.

Five years since he asked you to be his wife. A late night stroll around the apartment complex. A routine for when you both couldn’t sleep. Hand in hand, staring up at the sky, and asking which memory had sunk its nasty teeth in this time. Sometimes the harder questions got ignored; instead, you both would gush about your dreams. To leave Hawkins, once the now college age kids got old enough, to get a start on that brood of Harringtons, and to finally get a good night’s sleep without fear of monsters hidden somewhere deeply below the bed.

You had finally let go of his hand to unlock the door and walk in when he called your name from behind. The boy was on one knee, sweatpants digging into the welcome mat and faded Hawkins High tee sticking to his skin (which he later blamed on the intensity of the walk, and never admitted to it being nerves). He thought you had never looked prettier. Backlit from the soft amber glow of the hallway light, hair falling down your shoulders, and that soft dumbstruck look on your face.

Now two years after the wedding, you’re sitting on the floor of your work’s bathroom with those stupid pink lines staring straight back at you.

“Hello?”

“Eds,” you sob. “I think I’m going to throw up and I can’t tell Steve because I know it’ll just break his heart again and I didn’t expect it to be posi—”

“Woah, slow down. Are you okay? Why would Steve get mad? What the hell are you talking about?”

You try to reply, but you can’t breathe. Hot tears rolling down your cheeks, chest heaving with grief and guilt.

“Deep breaths, in and out. Breathe with me. There you go. It’s okay.” The air creeps its way back into your lungs just enough for your tears to slow down . “Just head on over and we can talk about whatever is going on, okay?”

So you tell your manager you’ve caught a stomach bug and try your best to stay calm as you drive over to his apartment.

Eddie has been one of your closest friends since he moved into the trailer park across the street back in grade school. He was the first to know when Steve asked you out, huffing out how it was about damn time. And he was the first to know when Steve had proposed, but he claimed he already knew. “How do you think Steve finally got the balls to ask you? I told him he better shoot his shot now before some other gentleman with fantastic hair sweeps in and steals you away,” he had said with a wink and elbow digging into Steve’s side.

And now he was the first to know that you were pregnant—again.

You and Steve had been trying for kids since the night of your honeymoon, so excited to have a clan of your own. Your children would grow up never questioning whether or not their parents loved them. You reveled in the dreams of being there for your kids in a way your parents never were for either of you. Steve’s parents chose not to do so, but your mother had no choice. Her weekly hospital visits turned into staying there, which turned into hospice, and eventually losing her completely.

But the excitement of being ‘#1 Mom and Dad’ turned into heartbreak, rushed trips to the hospital, therapy sessions, and a newfound fear every time you missed a period and those pink lines popped up. So eventually you stopped trying. No use in causing more tears and more tension in the relationship when all the two of you could focus on was the dream you could never have.

This is not to say the sex stopped. You still participated in testing out the ol’ mattress, but you went on birth control and Steve often wore condoms. It was overkill, but it protected you both from adding anymore anguish to the ever climbing piles of trauma.

So how the hell did you end up here?

Shuffling up to Eddie’s door, you let out a ragged breath and knock. The faint sound of feet running across carpet pools out from beneath the door. Then those soft, doe eyes are staring down at you. “Oh, sweets, come on in”, he soothes, hands resting on your shoulders before pulling you into a hug.

“I thought you guys were using protection?” Eddie questions, setting down a tea mug on the coffee table in front of you, and making his way to sit next to you on the couch.

“We were! I mean—we do… so I don’t know how this happened,” you sigh out, resting your head atop your hands and rubbing your temples.

“Well,” he starts, placing a hand on his chest while the other reaches for the sky, “methinks this doth be a gift. A light shining out to sea on a stormy night!”

“Shut up,” you tease, lightly tapping his shoulder before cradling your head in your hands once more. “I really don’t think I can go through this again, Eds. I can’t tell Steve. I can’t put him through this again.”

“What? You have to tell him. He deserves to—”

“He deserves to be happy, Eddie,” you plead, cutting him off. “Steve was so excited to start a family. The one thing he wants more than anything, and—and I can’t give it to him.” Tears work their way out once again, and wrapping an arm around you, Eddie gently pulls you in to place your head on his shoulder. 

“I know it’s a shit situation, but I promise you’ll get through this. I have a good feeling this time,” he beams, softly laying his head against yours.

“Just promise me you won’t tell Steve? Not until I’m further along.”

“Scouts honor,” he sighs.

“Can you go with me to my first appointment? I’m going to call tomorrow and schedule it.”

“Oh my god! Of course! Do we get to hear the baby’s heartbeat and see it on that little pixelated black and white alien picture thing?”

“No, you dummy, it’s just going to be a blood test to make sure I am actually pregnant and see how high my hCG levels are, and then we’ll know how far along I am.”

“Oh,” he responded dejectedly. “Despite that being infinitely less cool, I’ll still be there. Are you sure you don’t want Steve to go? I feel like I’m entering his territory here, doll.”

“I’m sure, Eddie. I can’t put him through that again. It’s not that I don’t want Steve to know. I just want to save him the heartbreak, but I don’t think I can do it alone.”

November, 1993

It was unbearable keeping this from Steve. Two months of waiting for the spotting, the cramping, the pain of failing again. Sixty days of not telling the man you love most in this world. Weaving a web of lies for why you had to leave work early, why you couldn’t eat the dinner he made, why you wouldn’t have sex with him anymore, why you were going to see Eddie so much more than usual.

“Mrs. Harrington?” the nurse called. “Dr. Newfield will see you now. Follow me please.”

Deep breaths. In and out. Nothing to worry about. Just a 14 week checkup. Ya know, the one you haven’t made it to before. It’s totally okay. Deep breaths. Steve should be here. Oh my god he needs to be here. I need him here.

Eddie covers your hand with his, “Go on, it’ll be alright. I’ll be right here when you—”

“Oh my gosh! How could I forget? I have a dentist appointment today,” you blurt out, shooting up and walking towards the entrance. “Pregnancy brain! Please tell Dr. Newfield I’ll reschedule as soon as possible. Thank you!”

The bell rings out, announcing your departure, feet flying on the pavement before fumbling with the door handle of the Bronco. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, chest tight and unrelenting. Eddie grabs your hand, pulling it to his chest, “Remember to breathe, okay? Look at me. Don’t look at your feet, look in my eyes.”

Once he’s happy, Eddie drops your hand and places his own on your shoulders, “Alright, you going to tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

“I panicked,” you sigh, pulling your eyebrows together. “I’ve never made it this far along, and I realized I don’t want to go through this without Steve. As much as it terrifies me to know what is going on up in here,” you let out a teary chuckle, gesturing a finger around your stomach, “It scares me more to not have him here with me.”

“Well, I was going to save this until after the appointment, but since that is no longer happening, I think this breakthrough is a cause for celebration, too,” Eddie smiles. Reaching into the pocket of his jean jacket, he pulls out a rectangular velvet box.

Steve left early from work. Made up some lame excuse to his boss, but in reality he wanted to come home to you. You had called in today for a stomach bug and when he left this morning, you were shut in the bathroom with no signs of coming out soon. He wanted to stop by the store and get your favorites to surprise you, hoping this would make you open up to him. He hated how distant you were lately, and couldn’t help the doubt and jealousy that creeped in from how you were visiting Eddie more often than normal.

As he walked down the main street of town, he saw you and Eddie across the street by your car. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he could see the way he rubbed your arms and shoulders. He could see you beaming from ear to ear when he pulled a jewelry box out of his pocket. Eddie stepped behind you, delicately moving your hair to one side, and gently placing a necklace across your chest. Your hand came up to grab it, smiling down before turning around to hug him tightly.

Steve would like to think he was a level-headed individual, but his suspicions had been confirmed. You were cheating on him with your best friend. His best friend.

“I never thought I’d get to wear this, Eddie. Thank y—”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing with my girl, Munson?”

You turn around to see Steve barreling at you with a look you’ve never seen. He was furious, but there was something indiscernible in his eyes.

“Woah, Steve. Calm down, okay? What the hell is going on with you?” Eddie demands, cocking an eyebrow.

“Do me a favor and spare me the innocent bullshit”, he fumes before directing his attention to you. “So this is why you won’t talk to me anymore? Feeling guilty for going behind my back and sleeping with our best friend.”

Your mouth fell open. Shocked at just how wrong he had judged the situation. More tears already brimming at your waterline, in utter disbelief that he could ever think you were capable of hurting him like that. “Steve. That’s not what’s going on. How could you even think I coul—”

“Then why the fuck is he touching you like that and what the hell is this?” he asks, his hand reaching up to the golden heart laying on your chest and snatching it away before tossing it out towards the street.

Your eyes follow it and before you could even react, Eddie is already jogging to search for it, but not before shooting daggers at Steve. But he didn’t notice, his eyes were transfixed on yours.

“How could you do that, Steve?” you shout, tears now falling. “That was my mother’s!”

His brows knit in confusion, but the hurt and anger in his eyes didn’t waiver. “Then why have I never seen you wear it? In the almost ten years we’ve been together, I have never once seen you wear that”, he spat.

“Because I just got it from my father!” you sob. “The pendant was damaged, so I took it over to Wayne months ago and asked if he had any tools to fix it. I was finally able to wear it and you’ve ruined it!”

Steve’s brows finally relax and a look of guilt crosses his face as he sees you sobbing into your hands. He comes up to you and wraps his arms around your back, pulling your face into his chest. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I had no idea. I just assumed that was why you stopped putting effort into us.”

You pull your head back to look at him. “I would never, ever, do that to you”, you scolded before taking a deep breath, “But I have been lying to you.”

“O-okay?” he says, a look of confusion plastered across his features.

“I’m pregnant”, you state matter-of-factly. 

“You’re pregnant?” he questions, pausing like he hasn’t processed it fully. “You’re pregnant?! When did y—“

“Nope. I talk, you listen,” you plead, shooting a hand up to stop him from talking. He nods, a puzzled look forming and biting back a small smile.

“I took a test two months ago, and I didn’t want to tell you because I couldn’t stand to see that hope and happiness get ripped from you again,” you gesture to the look he has now. “But I also knew there was no way for me to do this on my own, so I asked Eddie to take me to my appointments until I knew this one was safe. That is why it has been so hard for me to speak with you. It’s been hell trying to keep this from you, and I have been dreading the day I wake up and it’s all over.”

You close your eyes and breathe as his hand comes to rest along your jaw. Opening your eyes, you see his own have glazed over and he’s sporting the dopiest smile. “How far along are you? Do you know what it is?”

“Fourteen weeks,” you whisper, afraid that if you say it too loudly it will all come crashing down, but the smile growing on his face brings some solace. “And I have no idea what they are yet. That’s actually what this vis—”

“They? As in plural? Like, more than one?” Steve asks with wide eyes, moving between your belly and your eyes. You can’t help but giggle as you look at him, and then he’s smiling at you. Those brown eyes full of love and adoration, wondering how he got so lucky. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you close and swaying you gently. Lost in your own dream, surrounded by your little family.

“I found it!” Eddie calls, holding out the necklace and walking back over. You both look over, smiles beaming as Steve lets go and reaches for your hand. “I take it everything has been resolved?”

“Thank you, Eddie,” Steve says with a small smile, grabbing the jewelry from his hands. “For this, and for taking care of my girl. I’m sorry I freaked out on you,” he murmurs, looking down at the ground and rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

Eddie clasps a hand on his shoulder, “Water under the bridge, dude. I’m just happy you know now. Felt like I was going to have a heart attack from the stress.”

You nod vehemently in agreement with his last statement, and Steve chuckles at you both before turning to you, “Well, I’m sure these little nuggets will appreciate the relaxation.”

“These? There’s two?!” Eddie practically yells. “How did I not know this! Why didn’t you tell me?”

You let out a bright laugh, “Eddie, you would actually have to go back there with me to see it on the ultrasound.”

“No way. I’m not trying to see your lady bits,” he retorts, hands coming up to make an “X” and Steve joins in on the laughter.

“That’s not how ultrasounds work, Eddie,” you sigh, “and I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise for you both.”

“Well, then let’s go back in there and find out what they are!,” Eddie demands, already walking back towards the office.

You turn to follow, but Steve turns you towards him and pulls your hand to his mouth to place a chaste kiss. “I really am sorry, baby. I know this couldn’t have been easy on you. And I promise, I will take this chain to a jeweler as soon as possible and have it fixed. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Steve,” you say, placing a hand along his neck and bringing him down for a kiss.

Taglist: @enchantedlandcoffee

*edit: i forgot to do the tag list, so I added it on and please forgive me LOL. If you can’t read due to the topics or no longer want tagged i completely understand, just let me know!

[nivisdreaming]

Kinks And Cookies

Frustrated by the trials and tribulations of solo BDSM, Y/N comes to their dear friend Eddie Munson for support. Probably shouldn’t have chosen the best friend they’re also in love with for that role, but at least they’ve got cookies as a distraction from the heartache?

Eddie Munson x Sub!Reader

WC: ~800

Tags: Not smut but heavy kink themes, hurt/comfort turned love confession?, self indulgent af, drabble, gender neutral reader, 2nd person POV (you/yours and Y/N use)

Eddie cocks his eyebrow from where he lounges in a dining room chair, a lit joint hanging from his fingertips as he intently listens to your words. “Wait, so you’ve been doing solo play? As a sub?”

“Yeah, and it’s.. fine. Less than ideal for my style, but I’m a big kid, I can take care of myself. Porn and daydreaming works well enough. It’s good enough. For little while, anyway. But that’s not the issue,” you bite your lip and shuffle in your seat, “The problem is afterwards. Aftercare and that stuff. You know how I am with self care. It’s even worse when I’m…” Your words trail off.

“Fucked dumb?” He finishes for you, a smirk on his face as he clearly tries to suppress laughter.

“Eds! This is serious!” You huff and pull your knees up to your chest, burrowing your warm face and wide eyes away from him. “It’s gotten really bad sometimes, Eds, if I don’t do enough I end up dropping.” You take a shaky breath and try to wipe some of tears collecting on your lash-line on your pants. “That’s really scary alone, Eddie. I hate every second of it, and there’s nothing I can even do but wait it out when all I wanna do is feel good.”

A frown replaces Eddie’s teasing expression. He’s heard about subdrop plenty, helped a few playpartners through it once or twice. He’s even had to deal with topdrop himself after a particularly rough scene. He knows the emotions your trying to articulate. The anxiety that eats away at you, the shame and guilt that overshadows all else, the primal sadness and depression that you just can’t explain because there’s not always a reason beyond the physiological. He’s putting out the joint now, quick to move from his seat to squat next to you. A tentative hand reaches for your knee, and he begins to rub small circles over the soft fabric. “I’m sorry I laughed, Y/N.” He can hear your muffled sniffling from where your face is buried, and it’s really tugging on his heartstrings. “What can I do to help? What’d you want me for?”

“Just, hold me. For a few minutes. Til the bad feelings go away.” You feel Eddies arms move up to wrap around your torso, and you’re carefully shifted into his lap and pressed against his chest, his chin resting atop your head. His hand goes to caress your hair and a sob rips from your throat, stilling his breathing.

“Y/N. Maybe this is a bad time, but could I ask you something?” Eddie’s words come out tentatively. You nod from where you lay, not trusting your voice to hold steady. He mutters close to your ear, “Why don’t you have a dom? If being without one isn’t what you want, why be on your own?”

You feel your breath catch, and he worries you can feel how his heart skips a beat at your reply. “There’s… a guy. Who I want to be my dom, but I’m too scared to ask.” You take a heavy pause. “He barely even knows I exist in that capacity, but being with someone besides him would still feel wrong. I’m waiting to either get over him or work up the courage to ask him out. Both seem impossible.” Your words come out mumbled, but at least the talking is enough over a distraction to get you to stop crying.

Eddie is so glad your head is still buried in his chest. You always had such a way of reading him, like you could see his eyes and how they reflected the light and use it to know exactly how he felt. He didn’t want you seeing that moment the hope turned to jealousy turned to heartbreak. God, this had been a rollercoaster of a conversation, even by the weird standards you two had grown accustomed too.

You both sit in silence for awhile, enjoying each other’s embraces, terrified to be the first to move. It feels like centuries have passed by the time the alarm for the cookies you technically were here to bake in the first place sounds through the trailer, and you have to peel yourself from Eddie’s hold reluctantly. He stays on the floor, but you can feel his gaze on you even as you turn to pull the metal sheet from the oven.

“Whoever he is, tell him. You don’t… you don’t deserve to hurt, Y/N. Not like this.” His sightline doesn’t budge when you turn your head around to look at him. There’s some emotion dripping from everything about him, from the hunched way he sits, to the gruff tone of his voice, to the way he blinks a little too often, like he’s trying to clear something away. For once, you can’t quite determine what it is. It only spurs you on.

“It’s you, Eddie. For fucks sake, it’s always been you.”

[this-witch-writes]

Show Don't Tell - Part 2

part 1, part 3

Eddie didn’t understand what had happened or how quickly it had happened. So they’d fought. He’d been upset, Steve had been upset, but they had argued before. They were both opinionated, stubborn, a little bitchy, it was what made them click in some ways. How could Steve just… leave? Eddie was supposed to be the one who ran away. He read the note dozens of times trying to find some secret clue to make it make sense.

No matter how many times he went over it though, Steve’s note just didn’t make sense. “I hope you find someone someday that you love as much I love you now” what the fuck? How was Steve still so convinced Eddie didn’t love him? Convinced enough to skip town? He was probably just visiting Robin. He was coming back, right? On the drive home Eddie told himself again and again that he was overreacting. Steve was upset, he skipped town to see Robin and when he got back Eddie could yell at him for a while and then they’d fix things. Even if he still wasn’t sure how. He’d figure that out when Steve got back.

Wayne knew something was wrong the second Eddie stepped foot in the trailer. Eddie didn’t have to say a word and his uncle was giving him that soft concerned look and pulling out two beers.

‘Anything I need to know, son?’ And wasn’t actually being understood such a relief?

He didn’t really want to rehash everything so he just handed Wayne the note and started in on his beer. Wayne’s eyebrows did a lot of work in his face and that he took a long drink too. ‘So you and Steve split?’ He asked cautiously. ‘I thought things were going okay?’

Eddie sat up. ‘What? No! Why?’

Wayne’s eyebrows did some more complicated movements. ‘On account of this Dear John note you just handed me, kid? Is there more to the story?’

‘We just fought, that’s all.’

‘I don’t want to tell you your business, Ed, but this seems like some fight.’

‘He’s been a bit insecure, I guess, since Robin went away to college and the kids are busy at school. I try to cheer him up and most of the time it works great.’

‘I know,’ Wayne smiled, just a little. ‘Boy always looks like you’re the first person to ever cook him a hot meal.’

Eddie winced. ‘I think I am, his folks…’ no more really needed to be said there. Wayne got it. ‘Then yesterday I ask if he’s okay and he actually asks if I even love him? Can you believe that?’

‘You?!’ It was gratifying that Wayne was as surprised as Eddie.

‘Right!?’

‘That seems a mite more than a bit insecure, Eds, you dote on Steve.’ Wayne frowned. ‘More going on with that boy than he lets on, I suppose. What did you say to that?’

A second wince. ‘Well I blew up a bit. It just hurt, you know? Feeling like nothing I did was good enough.’

‘I’m not saying you’re wrong,’ Wayne handed the note back and tapped a nail on the glass of his beer bottle. ‘But it seems like whatever has Steve so upset, is bigger than what you give him. You can’t buy nobody’s happiness, though I’m sure his daddy tried.’

‘Yeah…’ Eddie slumped against the side of the couch. ‘I know… but it wasn’t like that. I wasn’t just giving him some gas station bouquet and calling it romance, Wayne. I did everything I could to make him happy and…’ he sniffed. ‘I just feel like I don’t have anything left.’

‘If he comes back,’ Wayne waved down Eddie immediate argument that of course he was coming back and kept talking over him. ‘If he comes back and you decide that you want to fix it, you can have that conversation then. If you want him back.’

‘If!!’ Eddie nearly knocked his beer over with his flailing. ‘Of course I want him back. What are you talking about? It’s Steve!’

‘You deserve someone who tells you that your love is good enough, not someone who skips town. I feel for Steve, I do, but you’re my kid and I say you deserve better than that.’ He pointed to the note. ‘It’s not your fault if he didn’t believe you saying you loved him.’

That tripped Eddie up a little and once again words weren’t needed between him and his uncle. Wayne frowned deeper. ‘You did tell him, right Ed?’

‘Of course I did,’ Eddie huffed, trying to remember. ‘We just don’t say it all the time.’ His voice was losing confidence though. He could remember Steve saying it, back in November and a few times before Christmas. He remember kissing him and talking and being happy, but Eddie’s memories were sparkling and slippery with lovesickness. He brushed the doubt away. ‘It’s like you and me. We don’t need to say it like we have something to prove. Show don’t tell.’ Wayne didn’t seem convinced by that explanation, which annoyed Eddie a little. ‘We’re not telling each other we love each other every day, you think I don’t love you? You’ve always let me know in real ways not words.’

‘We don’t say it much, true,’ Wayne nodded. ‘But kid, you never needed me to.’

‘Right!’ Eddie gestured at him in vindication. ‘Exactly!’

Wayne didn’t look convinced again. ‘Did Steve need you to?’

‘He shouldn’t.’

‘That aint always how it works. Folks need different things, Ed. You gotta hear them when they ask.’

-

Other chapters: Part 1, part 3

[respectthepetty]

Hello hello

I don't know if you talked about this before but is there a show that got colors so right that it WOW-ed you, as in they nailed it all from a to z?

Anon, I love this question. Do you understand? LOVE IT! I'm actually doing a colors award post in December because these shows are doing an amazing job with color coding this year. I'm always pleased with the colors I get, and last year's were a treat, but something about this year is feeding my soul DAILY, so allow me to take some small detours to highlight a few favorites before I answer your question:

I Cannot Reach You's color-coded bokeh effect is driving me mad with excitement each episode.

Destiny Seeker had consistent color-coding every episode, from beginning to end, with no missteps. 10/10 color coding. No notes.

Kiseki: Dear to Me and Never Let Me Go delivered consistent coding through the wardrobe of its couples that has me biting my knuckles simply thinking about them.

The Eighth Sense delivered on its dark versus light color dynamic during that phenomenal colorful kiss and the subway ride.

But Dark Blue Kiss will forever remain the best color exchange during a kiss for me.

Semantic Error could have snatched that top spot because everything was included in the color-coding adventure: lighting, wardrobe, props, TODO!

But if you know anything about me, the champion should come as no surprise because this show understood the assignment, and I devoured it each week with lengthy write-ups, so the winner was always gonna be . . .

Big Dragon

Its color-coding game is unbeatable from start to finish.

The houses, the lighting, the clothing, the phones, the hookups, EVERYTHING WAS COLOR-CODED!

And I'm a sucker for the color coding starting when the characters are kids.

Then those sweet sweet color exchanges! Ah, my heart is gonna explode!

And it wasn't just the colors. Big Dragon was feeding me symbolism every damn episode: Yin/Yang, Tiger/Dragon, Moon/Sun, Dark/Light. AND THE SIDES WERE IN ON IT TOO!

This show knew what it was doing, visually, thanks to cinematographer Ratchanon Kaeosaart who was also behind I Promised You the Moon, and it never missed! This is one of the reasons it instantly gained a top spot in my heart. This show didn't just wow me. It made me fall in love with it, easily, and I have been obnoxiously obsessed with it since.

NOW WHERE IS MY SECOND SEASON?!

[yourwakingnightmares]

Okay, but real talk for a second... Journey’s End is not a happy ending.

Like... We can talk about Ed realizing he doesn’t need alchemy and all that jazz, but seriously?

Let’s take this step by step, because lawdy but I have been stewing about this since I finished the show two months ago.

Firstly... Everyone else gets their happy ending. Al gets his body back, gets the girl. Winry gets the guy, and gets to keep making at least one automail limb for said guy. Roy gets his eyesight back, and (presumably) becomes Fuhrer. Hohenheim gets to die and abandon his kids again so he can be with his dead wife. Ling gets a philosopher stone, and becomes emperor. May Chang gets her knight in shining armor, and the safety of her clan.

But Ed? He got his brother back... Still has an automail leg. Lost his alchemy. Most likely either had to amputate his arm, or lose a lot of functionality, because Truth is a goddamn asshole, and just shoved that arm back on over top of the STEEL PORT.

And he was a prodigy. Not that I give a shit about how Amestris feels about losing their prodigy, but... Personal story time, when I was a kid, I was a piano ‘prodigy’. One of those kids who could just sit down and play anything. If I heard it, I could play it. And then, through a rather depressing chain of events that are irrelevant to this post, all of the fingers, and many of the smaller bones on my left hand were shattered. Even after months of rehab, I still couldn’t play like I used to. I could barely play for more than five or ten minutes before my hand began to cramp up and stop moving.

And this thing... This thing that I did better than anyone else I knew... It was gone. Just gone. This one thing that made me stand out, that made me special, that made me feel good about myself... and it was just gone. I could still pick apart any music I heard, I still knew exactly how I would play it... If I could. But I couldn’t.

And for Ed... Alchemy was who he was. It was what he did. It was an integral part of both himself, and how he viewed the world. And it’s just... gone. Boop. No more alchemy. All gone now, thanks for playing, kid. You’re no longer unique, you’re no longer special, you now have nothing that sets you apart from everyone else. You dragged yourself to the top of that pillar, and enjoyed the view, until a squiggly outline asshole Sparta kicked you off it, and then ground your face in the mud for good measure.

But, Nightmares, you say! He got his brother back! He still had Al!

Ah, but he didn’t, dear reader! That’s the thing! No Al hate here, because I love Al as much... well, nearly as much as I do Ed, but like... Al got better -and we all know who helped him through the months of recovery -and then bounced right the hell off to Xing. “Haha, yes, Brother! I shall go a thousand miles this way, you go a thousand miles that way, and we shall research this thing that you used to be able to do, that you used to be a prodigy at, that you can no longer do! Don’t forget to write, dear brother!”

...

Okay. I’m slightly less angry now. But seriously, that ending was just... ugh, utterly heart-breaking. Watching Ed trying to transmute the roof, and then just sigh, and say, “Well, at least the view’s nice.” was just... painful as hell.

[lgg5989]

Buy Dirt - A One Beer Universe Fic

This is for @callmemana! Thank you so much for the request dear, I'm so sorry it took so long to get out but I hope you enjoy it none the less. Congrats to 100 followers!!! That's so amazing :D

Thanks to @barbiewritesstuff for betaing this for me, you are the best bestie!

This is based on the song Buy Dirt by Jordan Davis.

(IK IK this is Lew Lew with Rhett Abott vibes but I love his smile)

Bob let out a deep sigh from the other side of the bed causing a sad smile to come across your face. Today was always hard for him. While most people were enjoying the end of the holidays and the start of the new year, Bob always found himself in mourning on January first. 

You rolled over, taking him in for a moment before pressing yourself close to him, or as close as you could with the protrusion of your belly between the two of you. Bob was laying on his back, one arm bent behind his head, and the other now wrapped up around your back. 

“Sorry darlin’,” he said quietly before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

You gave him a small smile, “You didn’t.” 

The two of you laid in a comfortable silence for a while before you felt the baby inside you stir. You took your husband's hand from behind his head and pressed it to your stomach, watching the smile that spread across his face at the sharp kicks you were being subjected to. The pressure of his hand increased for a second as he shifted in the bed, his head now closer to your round belly. 

“Hey there little one,” he said, pressing a kiss over your bump, “Be gentle with your momma.”

At his words, the kicking slowed, and you let out a small laugh at the change, “I don’t know how you do that love,” you said, looking down at him in wonder. 

He smiled up at you and you thought that maybe his victory with your next bundle of joy would be enough to pull him from his thoughts, but his eyes didn’t light up like they usually did. 

“You thinkin’ about him?” you asked quietly, one hand caressing the side of his head, stopping to cradle his cheek. 

Bob let out another heavy sigh before answering, “More so than usual this year.” 

You nodded in understanding. This year marked two years since his grandfather, Edward Floyd, had passed away. 

“Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll get the kids up?” you suggested, knowing your eyes were full of concern. 

“You don’t have to do that darlin’, I can-” he started. 

“I want to, I know how much he meant to you, let me take care of you Robby,” you said, rubbing your thumb across his cheek before turning to try and gracefully roll out of bed, not allowing him any more time to argue. 

—

Bob watched you leave the room after pulling on one of his sweatshirts, the hem hanging well past your hips. A small smile found its way on his face at the sight, but it quickly fell from his lips with the reminder of why he had the day off. 

Letting out another deep sigh, he sat up on the edge of the bed, glancing at the bookshelf in the corner of the room, his eyes landed on one of the only photos of Ed squared together and his mind started to wander back to the day it was taken. 

Bob was on leave, he had requested it as far in advance as he could to ensure he was home in time for his grandpop’s birthday. Ed Floyd was turning eighty in a few days, and the surprise you had helped Bob plan was something he knew would knock the older man’s socks off. 

While Ed was young at heart, the man’s body was run down after almost eighty hard earned years going around the sun. Because of this, he hadn’t been able to travel out to see his namesake, Eddie, since the little boy had been born, almost six months ago. 

The two of you shared a secret smile as Arthur made his way to the front door. 

“Bob said his present would be here soon pop, maybe this is it?” he called out behind him as he opened the door. Bob watched as his dad engulfed you in a tight hug, pressing a fatherly kiss to your forehead. 

“Y/n, how are you dear? Feeling okay since the baby? Little Eddie doing okay?” he asked quietly. 

You nodded, a smile splitting your face, “I’m wonderful, feeling much better now that he’s on a schedule. He’s just perfect, I don’t think we could be any more blessed.” 

Then he turned to Bob, “Bobby,” his dad said quietly, pulling him into a tight hug, “How are you?”

“We’re good dad,” he replied, holding up the baby carrier once he had been released to show off the newest addition to the Floyd family. 

“Well, who is it?” a gruff voice called from inside the house. 

Dad let out a laugh before responding, “It’s your gift!” 

“You better not be snooping through it!” Grandpop called out, “Any contraband that boy sent me is mine!” 

Bob’s face split into a smile as he raised his voice, “Don’t worry, he’s not snooping! Besides, the contraband is still in the car.”

Bob led the way into the house, finding Grandpop sitting in the living room in front of the TV. 

“Bobby!” he exclaimed, attempting to rise from his lazy chair. 

“Grandpop, don’t get up!” Bob said, taking the few long strides required to beat his grandpa up. 

The older man rose to his full height, his eyes squinting towards Bob, “I will get up if I damn well please, thank you very much,” he said, a smile on his face, “I’m old, not dead.” 

Bob watched the moment he realized that Y/n was here, so that meant, “Alright, where’s the little bug at?” he asked, excitement on his face. 

The sound of clattering glass in the kitchen pulled Bob from his reverie. With another sad huff, he stood from the bed and walked into the bathroom. Not following his usual schedule at all, Bob stepped right into the shower. He relished in the numbing sensation of the cold spray for far longer than any decent person would. As he heard the small shrieks and yells of Eddie and Katie through the walls, his mind wandered to the advice his Grandpop had given him years ago. 

While you were putting Eddie down for his nap, Bob joined his grandfather on the back porch of their family home. The hills of Tennessee were rolling out in front of him and he couldn’t help but smile as he handed his grandfather a fresh cup of coffee, “Here you go Pops.” 

“Thanks buckaroo,” the man said. He paused to take a sip of the steaming brew before a smile came over his face as he asked, “Your daddy still fussing over little Ed?”

Bob let out a laugh, “I don’t think there will be a day that he doesn’t fuss over little Ed.” 

“That’s as it should be,” Pops said with a sigh, turning to look at Bob fully, “What you been up to lately?”

Sighing deeply, Bob reflected, since Eddie had been born, it felt like all he was trying to do was make ends meet. With his enrollment in the Naval Academy, he knew he was going to have to pick something to go into soon, but he couldn’t help but look at the ES pay values of each job. All he wanted to do was give his small family a future. 

“Chasing a dollar,” he admitted quietly, finding all he could seem to look at was the hills beyond the house. 

The porch was silent for a moment as they both took sips of coffee, Bob was surprised to hear Pops let out a small laugh, “We all do boy. I’ll give you my two cents on making a dollar count.” 

Bob waited with anticipation as Pops took another sip of his steaming mug, “Buy dirt.”

He paused for a moment, not sure he heard the older man correctly, but before he could question it, his gravelly voice continued, “You’ve got the one you can’t live without, and you’re doing right by her,” he said with admiration in his voice, “Do what you love, but call it work,” he continued, pinning him with a meaningful look. 

Another pause and another sip of coffee, “Throw a little money in the plate at church,” he continued, “Send those prayers up and some roots down deep.”

Pops laughed a little before continuing, “You’ve added a limb to the family tree, enjoy that boy Bobby, he’ll grow faster than that grass always seems to.” 

Bob was pulled from his memory, this time by your voice, “Robby?”

“I’m sorry love, can you repeat that?” he called back, turning the water off and stepping out of the shower, his eyes on you. 

You gave him a sad smile, “I’ve got breakfast ready when you are.” 

“Be right there darlin’,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as he stepped back into the bedroom to get dressed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you wince, but you brushed it off rather quickly, so he let it go. 

By the time he attempted to pull himself from his mood and make it out to the breakfast table, Eddie and Katie had already dug in, both of them having chocolate smeared across their cheeks from the chocolate chip pancakes you had made. 

“Daddy!” Katie cried, a wide smile on her face, “I saved your seat!” 

“Thank you baby, I don’t know what I would do without you,” Bob said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head as he sat down in the chair across from you. 

—

After breakfast was eaten and cleaned up, the rest of New Year’s day was spent inside the house. Eddie and Katie playing with the toys they had gotten for Christmas while Bob and you were attempting to do a few chores around the house. 

Feeling fatigued, you laid down on your bed opting for an afternoon nap. After what felt like only seconds of comfort, you felt a sharp pain radiate over your stomach and your eyes flew open, “Bob!” 

As you attempted to sit up, another, stronger, pain caused you to flinch, keeping you on the bed. You heard rushed footsteps coming down the hall, “What’s wrong?” your husband asked as he appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide and concerned. 

“I think I’m going into labor,” you said quickly before the panic started to set in, “But I’m not due for another two weeks!” 

Before you could descend any further into yourself, Bob’s arms wrapped around you, “Hey, it's okay. They just want to meet us early, okay?” 

You felt yourself nod, your head resting above Bob’s heart allowed you to hear the beat of his heart as you calmed yourself down. 

“I’m going to go call Phoenix, can you get the bag ready?” he asked, using a finger to bring your face up to his. 

“I think so,” you said, feeling calmer than just a few minutes before. You turned from his hold to reach for the fresh basket of laundry you had been meaning to put away for a few days, beginning to rifle through it to gather clothes for both you and Bob. 

His voice filtered into the bedroom from the living room and you listened as you packed clothes into Bob’s Navy duffle, “I know, she’s a bit early…yeah, whenever you can get here…don’t rush please, my kids need their Auntie Nix…okay, see you soon.” 

“Okay, Phoenix is on her way,” he said, coming back into the room.

“Auntie Nix is coming?!” Katie exclaimed, crawling up on to the bed, “Where are you goin’ momma?”

You smiled at your baby girl, “Daddy and I are going to meet the new baby,” you said as calmly as possible. 

“Is he coming today?” Eddie asked, eyes wide. 

Bob let out a small laugh, ruffling the your eight year old’s hair, “Yeah buddy, they are coming today, whoever they may be.” 

You heard a grumbled, “I hope it's a boy,” under your son’s breath and it caused you to laugh. At that moment, another contraction took you, causing your laugh to turn into a breathless groan. 

“Alright honey,” Bob started, “Where is the baby stuff?” 

“Just in the nursery, I have some things laid out on the changing table,” you said, pressing one hand to your side, trying to relieve the pain. 

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the bag and moving quickly down the hall. You turned to look at Eddie and Katie, “Let’s go wait by the door for Auntie Nix, okay?” 

“Okay momma!” Katie called, rushing out of the room, Eddie stood there looking at you with scared eyes, “Are you okay momma?” 

Your heart melted at his concern, “I’m alright baby,” you said, pulling him into a side hug as you waddled to the front door and took a seat on the shoe bench. 

There was a knock at the door and before you could even think about rising from the position you had settled in, Bob dropped the duffle at your feet and pulled the door open, “Phoenix, thanks for coming.” 

Natasha stepped into the house, folding her aviators into her shirt, her motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm, “Of course Bobby, gotta make sure your Baby On Board makes it to the hospital in time,” she replied with a wink in your direction. 

You snorted at her quip, having heard the tale of their first day in training with Mav several times over. Another flash of pain radiated out of you, causing you to flinch again. 

Bob wrapped an arm around your shoulders, supporting some of your weight as he guided you to stand, “Okay, you two be good for Auntie Nix, we will see you soon okay?” 

Nat grabbed the duffle and slipped it over Bob’s free shoulder, “Drive safe you two, let me know when you want me to bring them by okay?” 

“Thanks Nat,” you called as Bob ushered you out of the house. 

—

After two hours of labor and lots of hand squeezing, Hank Edward Floyd was brought screaming into the world. Bob was sitting in the recliner provided in the birthing suite, little Hank settled into his arms as he watched the two of you sleep. His mind started to wander back to the memory he had been visiting this morning, and a smile spread over his face. 

Pops laughed a little before continuing, “You’ve added a limb to the family tree, enjoy that boy Bobby, he’ll grow faster than that grass always seems to.” 

Bob smiled, his mind drifting to the small baby you likely almost had asleep upstairs. Pops’ voice pulled him from the thought, his voice going quieter than Bob had ever heard, “‘Cause the truth about it is, it all goes by real quick. You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy dirt. You gotta find you a few things that matter, that you can put a fence around, and then you need to thank the Good Lord for it, ‘cause he ain’t makin’ any more of it.” 

Phoenix appeared in the doorway, Katie held in her arms and Eddie at her side, “Hey there Bobert, got a baby for us to look at?” she asked, a smile on her face. 

“Is it a boy?” Eddied asked, his eyes wide as he walked over to sit in the recliner next to Bob, and your face broke into a smile. 

Bob nodded, smiling at his oldest son, “It's a boy, Hank Edward Floyd,” he announced proudly, watching for Eddie’s reaction. 

Eddie’s eyes got wide, “He’s named after Pops too?” 

“Yes he is,” Bob affirmed, “Do you want to hold him?” 

Ed nodded, his face nervous as he climbed onto Bob’s lap to look down at his little brother. 

So buy dirt

Find the one you can't live without

Get a ring, let your knee hit the ground

Do what you love but call it work

And throw a little money in the plate at church

Send your prayers up and your roots down deep

Add a few limbs to your family tree

And watch their pencil marks

And the grass in the yard all grow up

'Cause the truth about it is

It all goes by real quick

You can't buy happiness

But you can buy dirt

[niceboyeds]

pep talk (e.m)

Eddie Munson x reader 

ft. Uncle Wayne

summary: sometimes all you need is to buckle down and work all through the night, fortunately someone else is also around at the early hours of the morning to give you a much needed pep talk.

contains: self-doubt, overworking, fluffy fluff, i genuinely don't know what else to add lol

word count: 1.2K

@ghosttownwherenoonegoes for you, my dear. please take care of yourself, you're doing so well! The Munsons would be so proud of you🤍

nav

~~~~~~

“sweets… why don’t you take a break?”

“don’t have time for a break, Eds. I gotta catch up, I’m so behind!”

“you’ve been studying for hours, I’m sure you’re plenty caught up for tonight.”

“Eddie. please, I really need to get this done.” you turn your eyes away from the textbook, seeing his defeated look and it makes your chest pang with guilt.

why didn’t you do it earlier?

why did you take on more than you knew you could handle?

you should be spending time with him.

“okay, just come to bed soon.” he leans down to kiss the top of your head before making his way into the bedroom, leaving you at the dining table with nothing but the quiet murmurs outside the trailer to distract you.

soon doesn’t come though, as you find yourself in a steady groove. powered only by too much coffee and sheer willpower.

you don't even notice the time until you hear a familiar pair of boots making their way up the stairs to the trailer’s front door.

there was no way you stayed up all night?

oh but you had, and it only made you grow even more frustrated with yourself.

“mornin’, kid. didn't expect you to be up yet.” Uncle Wayne trudges through the trailer, eyeing the table you had cluttered with many textbooks and journals.

“didn't exactly go to sleep...” a heavy sigh following your words.

“well, maybe you're just a night owl like me.”

“I don't think I can do it anymore.” you admit with a toss of your pen onto the table. feeling completely overwhelmed by the amount of work you still have yet to do.

“do what?” he pries, sitting beside you in a dining chair. he begins taking off his boots, waiting for you to explain.

“this.” you answer, gesturing your hands to the mound of homework assignments.

“I just feel like I’m in a never-ending cycle of work, school, work, school. when do I get to do things I enjoy? when do I get to spend time with Eddie or you? this is the first time I've seen you in a week because usually before you even get home from work I’m on my way to my job. and then by the time I finally make my way back you've left for your shift. and Eddie is being so patient with me, but I know he's upset that I haven't been spending any time with him.”

you pause to catch your breath, having said it all in one and certainly too fast. he thinks of starting to speak but holds off knowing you're not quite done with your vent.

that’s Wayne’s thing, he’s a listener first and a problem solver second. always more than willing to offer a solution to whatever you need help with but never cutting you off.

“I just don't think I can do it all anymore. it’s too much pressure.” you finish, looking over to see a very empathetic Uncle Wayne locking eyes with you. seeing the tears welling up in your eyes makes his heart ache for you.

“listen kiddo, I know it’s hard right now. shit’s stressful, s’all part of growin’ up. unfortunately there’s not much I can change about that.” his hand comes around to pat you the shoulder, trying to comfort you just as the tears breach your eye-line.

“but I know you’ll regret your decision. hell, I wish I had just half the perseverance you do to finish school. you've already worked so hard to get to this point, don't give up on your dreams.”

“but with work I—”

“I told ya to lessen your hours at your job!” he chuckles lowly, attempting to lighten the mood but quickly speaks up again before you argue.

“you should just worry about school, let me and Eddie help take care of ya. s’what we like to do. family helps family, and that means I’m not gonna let you quit on yourself. even if it means I gotta come home from work and give you a pep talk every mornin’. but I’d much rather you sleep at night, nightshift ages ya.”

you sit with his words for a moment, contemplating. sure, it would be amazing to only have to worry about your studies, but was it logically the best option?

“just sleep on it.” Wayne interrupts your train of thought. “don’t make any big decisions on exhaustion.”

“yeah…  yeah, you’re right. I should get some sleep.” you sigh, slowly standing up from the table and stretching your sore back.

“sleep tight, darlin’.” he hugs you tightly, knowing you needed it. he is proven right once again when he first attempts to release you, but your grip stays tight on him. he doesn’t mind though, he’s always happy to comfort you when you need it.

“thank you.” you whisper before letting him go. he gives a single nod in reply before you turn to walk to the bedroom.

the door creaks open louder than you had hoped, but Eddie didn’t stir at all at the sound. you pad across the bedroom to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers which engulfed you in the scent of your boyfriend.

unfortunately as soon as you relax into the mattress, he immediately notices your presence.

“baby…” his voice quiet and slightly whiney.

“hi Eds.” you whisper back, wiggling into his arms.

“what time is it?”

“um… well, Wayne is home.” you answer honestly, despite his request for you to go to bed with him.

“did you get your work done?”

he doesn’t scold you, and he doesn’t complain that you never showed up last night, something you’ve always appreciated about him. he doesn’t hold anything against you because at the end of the day, or perhaps the beginning in today’s case, he only wants you to do what you love.

he doesn’t want you to give up on your dreams and passions because he knows this is what you want. you’ve worked so hard and he would never want to hold you back, especially since you’ve never once stopped him from following his own dreams.

“I got enough done for now.” you answer with a yawn, cozying into his body even more.

“sounds like you were cryin’, baby. you okay?”

“yeah, I’m okay. Uncle Wayne gave me a pep talk, helped me with something.”

“he’s a good man.” you know he’s smiling, you can hear it in his voice.

His uncle, his dad, is known for giving the best pep talks in the house. it’s no surprise he gave you one when he walked into the trailer this morning, seeing as he’s given you quite a few already and you’ve overheard his chats with Eddie.

“he really is. I don’t deserve him.”

“uh yes you do. we all deserve an Uncle Wayne, you just lucked out like me and got the real deal.”

“yeah, I really did get lucky ending up in a family with the two of you.” you yawn once again as you speak, exhaustion finally sinking in.

and you meant every word you said. The Munsons were your family, and Wayne took you in without a second thought and wide-open arms, because his son loved you. you could never fully find the words to express your gratitude to him. but it was okay, because he already knew, and that alone was more than enough for him.

[akahael]

TAG, I'M IT!

GAHHHH It's been so much time since someone tagged me in something like this!!! Thank you @one-silly-cart00nist !!! Bestie indeed :DDD 💖💥

Last Song:

This song has been repeating in my head for weeks. Maybe months? Chappell Roan is absolutely ICONIC and her voice and this song make my bones tremble idk how to explain!!?

Also a honor mention:

I know this might not resonate with everyone in here because it's in spanish but ☝️ another masterpiece and another incredible singer. This song gets me crying every💥 time💥

Fave place:

My computer? Lol- Probably any big city with tons of street commerce. I love exploring the capital with my irl friends when I get the chance (Getting robbed is part of the experience); and in general places where I can see people's small business too, like cons!!!

Fave book:

I have always been a fanfiction boy I'm sorry... I don't know many "actual" books... But back in school "Fahrenheit 451" didn't let me sleep lol. It's about a biopolitical government who demands the firefighters no longer stop fires, but start them, by burning books (books are illegal)

It's pretty cool, but if I'm allowed to talk about my favorite fan-fiction, I HAVE to say, "Markdoka Magica!" by @bonkerbuster69 on A03 LIKE. THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I HAVE READ?!?! IT MADE ME CRYYYYYY!!!!!!! It's about Mark discovering and accepting herself as a trans girl SNIFF SNIFF everyone should read it 😭😭😭

And in second place there's "The perks of being in love" (orphan_account) which is a 2015 fanfic on AO3 about Wirt (Over the Garden Wall) and Dipper (Gravity Falls) and their slow burn romance in highschool GAHH the corniest thing but it low-key made me realize I was on the ace spectrum AND high key was the start of my love for poetry so it kinda had a big impact on my life LMAOO

As for books again, I will say "Dear Evan Hansen" too but just because there isn't a space for "favorite musical" heh

Fave movie:

I don't watch many movies either lol but I have to say Luca (yes, the one from pixar). It brings me the biggest sensation of comfort any sort of media has ever made me feel, and I had a bigg hyperfixation with it for over two years so yeah. It's special.

Honorable mention to The Bad Guys too (I'm not a furry I swear (?))

Fave show:

OHOHOHO!!!! I wouldn't know... Both Gravity Falls and Over the Garden Wall fight for the first place with fists and teeth. Every time a hyperfixation is over I just go back to them

That's in general. Currently tho, of course I'm OBSESSED with Craig of the Creek and especially the Elders, 1. for the comfort sensation it gives, 2. It's surprisingly funny and 3. The way they approach certain, more serious topics in a friendly way for kids. I love to see it with my lil sister and she loves the show too.

Honorable mentions again to The Eltingville Club pilot, Fired on Mars, Total Drama Island (SPECIFICALLY the 2023 reboot) andddd Edd Ed n Eddy which I still haven't finished but I HAVE to lol

Fave food:

Popcorn.

ErMmM I'll tag @twuizzy just if you want to do it pal!!!! :D

[leasstories]

Letter two:

TW: Depiction of grief, after Eddie’s death, bittersweet

Letter 1 - Letter 3

April 23rd,1986

Dear Eds,

I’m sorry for not writing to you yesterday. It was a really hard day. I wasn’t capable of getting out of bed. I’m missing you so much it hurts. Dinner with Wayne went well. We ate and then he suggested that we watch a movie. We watched one of those movies you ate. It was a rom-com and if you were there you would have screamed at us to turn off the TV.

I’m not gonna lie to you like I did to Wayne but watching it was hard. Watching people stupidly in love when my lover isn’t here anymore hurts so bad. The little sheep were supposed to come play DnD at my place yesterday but I called them, giving the excuse that I was sick. Your little genius didn’t believe me though. I heard him bang at my door and screaming at me to open the door. I feel bad about but I didn’t... I didn’t let him in.

He started acting more like you since you are gone. The kid is even trying to grow his hair to be like “his hero” as he put it. You’d be proud of him, and of his campaigns. You were right, he really is a genius.

Also, I forgot to tell you but a few days ago Judas Priest released a new album. It’s entitled Turbo. As soon as I can get out again, I’ll go buy the tape. I’ll write a review for you as soon as it’s done.

Also, when I got home from Wayne’s, I finally painted your van as I promised I would. No imperfections anymore.

I don’t have a lot to tell you as I stayed home all day yesterday. I really miss you Eds... I feel so empty without you. I selfishly wish you were the one drying my tears. I wish you were here, holding me at night, when the sobs wrack my body. Before I thought that I couldn’t bear to see you hurt, but now I realize that I’d rather see you hurt than not see you at all. When the earthquake happened and you were nowhere to be found, I didn’t imagine one second that I would never see you again. Eddie Munson, you were both the best and worse thing that ever happened to me.

I still have no news from UCLA. The community college accepted me but I declined. How am I supposed to leave town without you? All I’m left with are the memories, the places we both liked. Besides, I feel like leaving Hawkins without you would be a betrayal. I really can’t do it alone Eds. I need you... I really need you right now...

Is it my fault? Should I have been looking for you more? What could have I done not to lose you? I lost the will to live. The song I relate to the most at the moment is Fade to Black in Metallica’s Ride the Lightning album.

Also, I thought you should know that we postponed Corroded Coffin’s concert at the Hideout as I wasn’t feeling well yesterday. It’s going to be on Tuesday, April 28th. I wish you could be here too, strumming Sweetheart by my side.

Sorry, I had to put the pen down, Steve Harrington (Can you believe it?) came to check on me. I lied to him and said I was fine but I don’t think he believed me. He insisted that he’d stop by later tonight but I don’t think I’ll open the door to him. I don’t want to see anyone else than you Eddie. Anyways, I love you endlessly.

Yours, always

- Your lover

Taglist: @abellmunsonmovie

[cherrythepuppet]

A Dear In Headlights

Boxes. Thats what Jonsey saw in front of Franks house while on his walk to Howdy Place, He also saw Penny there and she wasn't destroying Frank's garden but instead helping move boxes inside "She seems like such a little doll! I bet Dandy will like her" Penny exclaimed

"I hope she'll be able to adjust well… I still have to enroll her into Deirdre's school" Frank sighed "I can probably help ya with that" Penny shrugged

Penny picked up a box then used her head to open the front door and she put a box inside "Say, Where is the little miss?" She asked

"Hm? Oh She wanted to explore the neighborhood" Frank repliedJonsey watched the two interact thinking it seemed a bit… Strange to see them talking and not yelling at each other

After a moment of watching He decided to continue on his way ignoring the two, He opened the door to Howdy´s place but didn't see Howdy at the counter but He saw the tall caterpillar standing in one of the aisles

"Mr Pillar! Im back" Jonsey called out

"One monet Jones!" Howdy said as he grabbed something off the top shelf then bent down "Here ya go" Howdy mumbled "Thank you!" A high-pitched voice told him

Jonsey perked up and looked over but couldn't see much so he moved over to the second Asile and peeked through the shelves, Yet even then he could hardly see anything just a small girl with a mop of orange-red hair

Jonsey frowned then one of the boxes of cereal was taken off the shelf, Jonsey blinked and saw the face of a girl with orange eyes and freckles

The girl froze and stared at him before she slowly put the cereal back and acted like nothing happened

"I think I've got everything, May I check out now?" She asked "Of course. Follow me" Howdy replied while he walked over to the counter and the girl checked out then left

Jonsey looked at the girl and at Howdy

"Jonsey! Howd the delivery go?" Howdy asked "Good" Jonsey paused "Who was that?" He added "Who? The girl?" Howdy muttered as Jonsey nodded

"Oh uh- well i believe that she´s Ed´s neice and she´s gonna live at Franks" Howdy explained "Saw Penn helpin´ with the unpacking over at Frank´s too, Strange sight ta se those two get along" Howdy chuckled

Well That explains the boxes "And im pretty sure the girls name is Bella and that shes around your age" Howdy added

"So now ya dont have to spend all your time with Me but dont forget about me!" He told Jonsey"I wouldnt!" Jonsey squeaked as Howdy patted him on the head…

Happy late birthday @trashcanplant!! Im sorry i was late with the writing (Very late- its been almost two months i feel awful-) And im sorry its short too, It was difficult writing kids