#and i'm just really confused and don't know the appropriate response | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-scythes-pen · 9 months ago

Text

Bleeding Pastels (Kabukimono x Reader)

The puppet's life is colourful; while tainted and stained with a dark smudge in the middle- originating from his creation- at least it won't discolour the world he lives in...

right?

Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader

Kabukimono era

Canon-divergent. Some abuse briefly described later on. Symbolism-heavy. Read between the rainbow to find the shadows that the light casts.

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I. Pink

The day that the boy first saw you, he almost mistook you for a god.

You sat alone underneath wispy sunlight that broke through the gaps in the bright pink petals above you. Gently fluttering down around you, picking up with the occasional spring breeze; sakura petals adorned your atmosphere and lay like a bed around your form.

The shade of pink that dusted the boy's cheeks was only somewhat darker then the beautiful pale pink of the sakura and it's flowers.

The boy could only stare in awe, lost in his own world of reverence and admiration- that was until a beautiful, soft voice pulled him out of his head.

"And who might you be?"

The puppet blinks. Your bright, vivid irises held him captive among the falling blossoms; his pale pink lips open and close without a sound- the boy unable to find a response.

You laugh. Gods, that sound makes something within him stir. It steals his artificial breath and replaces it with something so soft and light that he does not dare to look too deep into.

"Well? There's room for both of us here, if you want." You say with a smile, palm patting the soft grass beside you.

It takes a moment for the puppet to register your words, but as soon as he does it's like a string has been pulled taut- and he longs to loosen the tension that has formed. He makes his way over to you, his knees folded underneath him as he merely stares at you silently.

"You're that boy that guy brought with him a couple days ago, right? What's your name?"

For once, the puppet speaks.

"I... Don't know." His voice is soft, light, and almost somewhat childish. He sounds so innocent and boyish.

Your eyes wander down his face and trail down his arms. He doesn't say anything, but he can see you stop and stare at the joints in the middle of his arms; the ones attached with a ball and some hinges.

"Hey, you're not human, are you?" You say with curiosity in your tone, as you pull yourself onto your knees to take a closer look. Your hands are soft as they take ahold of his wrist and hand, pulling it out to a stretch as you stare in wonder at his unblemished skin and the way his arm connects to the rest of his body.

The puppet watches as a bright pink petal flutters down against the untainted sky and lands delicately in your hair.

"I hope you forgive me for oogling you; I've just never met someone like you before..."

Your eyes flicker up to meet his wide-eyed stare; and you offer him a smile as bright as the sunlight above.

"Your skin is so soft, and the way your elbows are designed is so cool! Are your knees like this too?"

The puppet doesn't say anything; instead unable to find an appropriate response as all he can do is nod his head.

"Really? That's so cool!" You say with wonder to match his own.

"I'm (Y/N). I-"

Your mouth hangs open, but no words escape you as you watch the puppet's hand slowly move atop your head. Delicate fingers pluck what his eyes are so intensely trained on from your hair, before bringing it down infront of the both of you to see.

"This... was on you."

You blank at the pink petal between his fingers, and for a moment the puppet's mind whirs to life with questions of whether he had done something wrong, but you soon snap out of your trance with a laugh. The boy sits still, confused about your reaction.

"Thank you. You don't have to show it to me though." You say before snatching the soft object from him and swiftly placing it atop his own head.

You laugh at the expression on his face from your actions, and the puppet finds the wonderful sound brings a smile to his face. He doesn't quite understand why you did that, or why you're laughing, but he finds your joy infectious all the same.

II. Purple

Over time, the people of Tatarasuna as well as the puppet himself learned how he differed and how he was similar to the humans around him.

He felt pain and bled just like they did. Yet, he didn't seem to have a heart. He didn't need to eat or drink either, but he claimed that he could and that he wanted to do so to 'become more human'.

The puppet- now called Kabukimono by his peers- also didn't quite understand social ques and what was wrong or right. After finding out that humans would often disrobe and bathe when they became dirty, the puppet had tried to do the same in the nearby stream of village. That little event had a few people swiftly ushering him to put his clothes back on while laughing awkwardly; as if he was a child who didn't truly know what he was doing.

Which, in all honestly, was pretty much what he was. A child who knew nothing about the world or people around him. But he was learning.

The pastel purple clothing that he was so often seen in flowed freely in the breeze; the smell of lavender was picked up by the summer wind off his freshly washed robes and filled his nostrils with the calming scent. It was the smell that adorned him whenever you were the one responsible for washing his clothes (as you often took turns among the other villagers to look after him).

He had grown to love that scent.

"Just... like... this." You said as you dragged the teeth of the comb through his wet hair; letting the Kabukimono watch your actions through the mirror.

"Think you got it?" He nods at your question, and you hand him the comb.

His hand is steady as he mimics your previous movements; dragging the teeth of the light purple comb through the strands of dark indigo atop his head. After a few strokes, he pulls the comb away; a deep violet staining the teeth as if to remind him that he wasn't like you.

You smile at him. "Perfect! Just like that. Now you're all set to wash yourself next time you need to."

The Kabukimono stares down at the comb in his hands; staring down at the violet that taints the pastel shade. You had gotten him this comb, it was one of the first objects he had ever owned. And now, because of him, it was stained a dark purple from the dye that was used for his colour- that still coated his hair.

And yet, the same dark stain that now marred his gift from you had dyed your palms a similar shade to that of the comb- a bright, pastel purple. Originally, he had panicked and apologized profusely for staining you, for tainting you, but you merely had laughed and said you didn't mind. That it would go away eventually.

And while others wore gloves when taking care of him and his hair, you didn't. You let your fingertips run through the dark locks and dance across the top of his forehead; you let him feel the warmth and softness of your touch as you scrubbed the dirt and dust that had accumulated in his hair. You let his colour stain you; and somehow, you managed to make the dark purple such a bright and beautiful shade of lavender once it touched your skin.

"My... arms hurt. Can you do this for me?" He says quietly, turning towards you and holding the comb back up to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You smile, the corners of your eyes crinkling in adoration at the Kabukimono's barely-concealed lie.

You had done a lot to take care of him and teach him about various things; he knew that lying was 'bad' and that he shouldn't do it. But even so, on rare occasion- like right now- he would say something small that didn't match what you already knew. And it would always end up with you taking a little extra care of him then you otherwise would have.

You knew you shouldn't let him keeping lying, but he was so bad at telling them, and it was adorable how he yearned for attention... so you couldn't make yourself scold him for his behaviour. You let this lie slide like all the others.

"Alright, alright. Come on then, turn around."

You can see the corners of his mouth tip upward in a smile, however subtle, as he did as he was told and let you run both the comb and your fingers through his hair.

The Kabukimono couldn't help but watch your hands. To seek glimpses of the bright purple staining on your palms that could only have been from him. He always loved when the other humans would point out your coloured hands and comment on how you practically took sole care of him with how often your hands took on the familiar shade.

Even when he wasn't by your side like a loyal puppy, it was like a part of him was still with you. Even if at first he saw the colour as a stain upon your otherwise perfect skin, you had assured him that it was harmless, told him you liked the colour, even.

You had taught him that being 'selfish' is one of the 'bad' things, and he shouldn't be 'selfish'. But if it was so 'bad', then why did it feel good? Why did it feel good to leave a piece of him with you, as if to claim you as his own human?

The teeth of the comb grew ever darker as they sorted through his indigo hair.

III. Yellow

For a being that was supposedly crafted by the hands of the god of thunder, the Kabukimono couldn't help but jump at each loud roar of lightning that dared to light up the dark night.

"Oh, Kabuki..."

The puppet was shaking; his arms wrapped around his knees as he sat staring at the floor, trying to ignore each jolt of thunder only to be hyper aware of every crash of it outside the window.

The pity in your voice somehow comforted the puppet, even more so when you kneeled beside him to pull him into a hug.

"It's ok, you're not in any danger. The Electro Archon would never hurt us."

The Kabukimono still shook. Sure, she may never hurt you, but to him- every bolt that struck the earth was searching for him; the fruit of the anger and hatred he knew his mother held for him.

Each flash of lightning lit the inside of your warm home a bright yellow. A stark contrast to the usual deep purple of the electro element he knew so well.

Your hand smoothed over his back, the other wrapped around his shoulders as you held him close. Another flash had him jump once again; burying his face into your shoulder as if to try to hide from the storm.

"Oh, hey, hey... It's ok..." You tried to soothe him, your voice gentle and low as his arms wrapped around you to hold tightly to your clothes.

Your arms wrapped around him were warm, firm, secure, as if you were the one shielding him from the tumultuous rain and deafening thunder.

"Ok, c'mon, lets go to bed."

The boy in your arms sniffled as you pushed him away from you, guiding him towards your plush bed.

"B-But... My bed..." He mumbled out, his eyes falling onto a small mat off to the side that you had done your best to make comfortable. And as shabby as it was, the Kabukimono loved it. You had made it for him, after all.

"You won't be able to sleep if you're over there, will you? This storm doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon, so... Why don't you stay with me? That way, I can protect you."

The deep purples of his eyes were wide and glossy with tears at your proposal; but he swiftly nodded and climbed onto the bed with you following suit.

The two of you got settled underneath the blankets, and the Kabukimono couldn't tell if your bed was just more comfortable then his, or if he really liked being beside you that much more then being alone. He watched as you shifted around; moving the pillow you normally slept on to rest underneath his head as you lay flat on the mattress next to him.

You smiled at him, a smile that made his chest tighten and something within his artificial body malfunction. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of your fingers brushing along the side of his face, pushing his bangs out of the way of his eyes.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep? I'll be right here if you need me."

The rain was loud on the old glass of your home; a flash of lightning bringing attention to the lack of purple that the Kabukimono had so loved to see on your hands.

But the fear of the thunder triumphed over his sadness that his hair no longer stained your palms; and he couldn't help but jump at the noise that shook him to his core once again.

Trembling hands grabbed your soft, steady one and brought it up to his cheek. The Kabukimono rested your palm against his flesh, nuzzling into it even as he shook in fear. You couldn't help but pity him, the pad of your thumb brushing over his cheekbone as you indulged him.

"You won't leave me, right?" He says quietly, warily, as if he's afraid the storm will hear his weakness and aim straight for his non existent heart.

The smile you give him almost looks sad. But it remains as sweet as it always does nonetheless.

"Never."

"You promise?"

Another crash of thunder has him jump once again, but with your hand against his cheek, he's quick to recover.

"I promise."

He peers at you and sees no trace of malice; no trace of annoyance or deception or betrayal. All he sees is you; your beautiful smile and crinkled eyes, glistening even in the darkest of nights.

The next flash of yellow lightning that illuminates the two of you only proves to show that even against the Electro Archon herself; your light is so much brighter then anything the god could conjure to harm him.

He doesn't jump at the sudden thunder. Instead, he lets out a shaky breath and pulls you forward- bringing your head onto the pillow that you had given him before he buries his head right underneath your chin; pushing himself into your body as if he wished to become one with you.

You can't help but smile at his unintended affection. Your hands move to embrace him; to smooth over his back and run your fingers through his hair.

"It's... bad to break a promise." He mumbled into your chest. "You won't break your promise, right?"

You let out a soft chuckle, tightening your embrace as you let the boy cling to you for life.

"Of course I won't. I love you too much to hurt you like that."

Your words were accentuated with another jolt of thunder. Another flash of yellow. And then a second bolt of lightning- this time, right through the cavity where his heart would have been.

I love you.

The words repeated in his head like a prayer; and he nestled himself deeper into your embrace in an attempt to muffle his thoughts and hide the pink on his cheeks.

The innocent, pure little Kabukimono had heard the words before. Humans who were close, who kissed and slept in beds together would say it to one another. Humans who were bound for life by little bands of metal on their fingers would whisper it to eachother whenever they pleased.

His tongue burned- yearned to repeat the words back to you, but something inside of him refused. Rejected the idea of feeling the intimacy of human love... of the idea that he could be with you just like all the other humans who loved eachother.

That night, when the puppet and his human had fallen asleep, the Kabukimono found himself without a single dream.

IV. Blue

Even when the Kabukimono wasn't under your care for that day, he still hovered near to where you were.

The old woman who was tasked to care for him that day was a vile creature. One who refused to acknowledge the puppet as anything close to human; instead treating him as merely an object, a plaything, something that could do whatever she wanted of him without complaint.

Because the poor Kabukimono didn't know how.

The puppet watched from where he sat by a large bucket. His hands were filthy; red and sore from scrubbing away at the clothing that he was forced to wash by his current caretaker.

He watched as you bid farewell to your fellow villagers; a basket hung off your arm as you walked into the nearby woods.

Oh, how he longed to follow you. To see where you were off to, to accompany you and watch every move you made.

He looked down at the water in the bucket, browned with dirt and dust. Surely, the water flowing through the stream in the forest would be nice and clean, right?

He's quick to set everything aside; emptying the water into the nearby crops like he was instructed, and then following you into the forest.

It was like your presence had merely teased him; he stumbled blindly through the brush hoping that you would be found in this direction. That he could, at the very least, be able to lay his gaze upon you once more and lighten this heavy feeling in his chest.

What the Kabukimono hadn't thought about, though, was just what you may be doing out here in the forest. And what he saw when he finally approached the familiar babbling brook stole his artificial breath away- the feeling all to familiar to that time had first laid eyes upon you.

The water was a beautiful crystal blue; your clothing lay next to the stream, a telltale sign of what he had stumbled across.

You looked divine. Beautiful. The way the water ran by your bare form and dripped so deliciously from your skin had the puppet star-struck. Pink was quick to dust his pale cheeks.

Then, like an all-too-familiar flash of sickeningly-yellow thunder, a thought occurred to him.

He shouldn't be seeing this.

Sudden panic washed over him, a fear he had felt so many times before now baring it's fangs at him once more.

If you caught him, you would leave him too.

He bolted.

The trees rushed by him in a blur of green; sticks cracking beneath his feet as he retraced his path out of the forest. Birds flew and squirrels panicked as he went by them like the roaring wind; and finally he reemerged from the trees to the sight of the village before him.

He felt warm. He couldn't get the image of you out of his head. The picture of you bathing in such beautiful blue waters was ethereal. He felt his chest tighten even further at the memory.

"You damn puppet! Where have you been!?"

The Kabukimono's face paled instantly at the shrill sound.

"You thought you could just go for a stroll through the forest, huh?! You didn't even finish your chores!! And where's my water pail!?"

The voice boomed. It's origin angrily stomping up to him before grabbing his wrist so harshly, he was sure it would have bruised if he were human.

If he were human.

"You damned-... Can't you do anything right!?" The old woman shouted, dragging the shrinking boy along behind her and towards her old, decrepit house.

"I'm sorry-" He tried to speak, tried to make himself heard over the pounding in his ears.

The woman was like a constant flash of thunder; waiting for the perfect moment to strike the puppet where he stood. And this time, it looked like he was all alone in this storm.

The woman tossed open her front door before dragging the Kabukimono inside, harshly slamming the door shut before she turned to him with a wild look in her eye. The puppet looked absolutely pathetic as tears welled in the corners of his violet eyes.

She shouted at him. Cursed at him. Pushed, pulled, hit him in whatever way she felt fit to.

The Kabukimono shut his eyes, and recalled the divine scene he had stumbled across just a little while prior. He pictured you, standing within the crystal blue water of the stream, and he pictured himself standing infront of you. The sky such a rich, pale blue above the two of you as you found comfort in one another's embrace.

"Are you listening to me!?"

The puppet opened his eyes, and all he saw was blue. The world was blue, he was blue, the old woman was blue, and the constant patter of liquid splashing onto wood from his cheek was blue as well.

A sad, soulless, cold blue. The blue of loneliness and pain.

He remembered how beautiful you looked underneath the cherry blossoms that day he first met you. The shade of pale pink that so beautifully complimented the darker pink on his cheeks that day.

He remembered how tightly you held him under the flashes of yellow that threatened to consume him whole. How you told him you loved him- how you promised you would never leave him.

And he remembered the blue of the water running by your hips. The blue of the sky above, the blue of the cotton of your clothing.

The pounding in his ears was overwhelmingly loud.

A blue hand raised itself before him.

Before it could hit it's target, the pounding stopped.

Everything stopped.

V. Red

The world's colours had returned. But they were so much darker then before. As if drenched in thick shadows that clung even to the most well-lit areas.

And it was like the Kabukimono was just seeing the real world for the first time.

The green of the foliage outside had turned from a beautiful bright shade to a deep, forest colour. And even darker still were the greens inside; where moss and mildew grew along the corners of the old house, and the various stains from archons-know-what seemingly having appeared from nowhere now dotting the surroundings with the deepest shade of black.

The puppet had seen black before. But this was different. Darker. And it was like the entire world had been tainted by those stains of black.

Even the deep brown of the rotting wood below almost seemingly started turning black as a dark red seeped into it's pores.

Such a deep shade of red it was. The colour akin to the same that flowed freely from his cheek; although his was so much brighter then the vile woman who stained the floorboards.

No- if he wasn't a human, then she wasn't either. She was merely a creature, a worm- that now lie pathetically limp at his feet.

Her words, despite his attempt to drown them out, had seeped into his head regardless.

You will never be human.

You will never be wanted.

You will never be needed.

Perhaps she had been correct.

After all, she had only been repeating what he had been telling himself already.

But, if she was correct, then what did that make of the words that the other villagers had said? What, pray tell, did that make the humans themselves?

Liars. All of them. Filthy, red-stained liars.

They had never once truly cared about him. Merely tossing him scraps, at best; demanding that he do things for them and barely leaving him to fend for himself.

Barely giving him space in their village, barely caring to try and be 'polite' with him- even when they demanded that he be polite around everyone he interacted with.

At first, he just accepted it. Of course he did. The world was bright, colourful, beautiful- but now, he's seen it for what it truly is. He's seen the suffering, the pain, the lies; the shadows etched into every crevice of this forsaken world.

He knows that they had lied to him when they said they considered him a fellow human.

And you had taught him, the saint that you are, that liars are bad.

Oh, you... how beautiful you are. How wonderful and amazing and kind you are. Out of everyone in this damned, pathetic village, you had been the one to treat him like an equal. To treat him like a human.

To love him like a human.

His chest tightened at the memory of your voice above his head that night; "I love you" falling so effortlessly from your lips as you held him close.

Archons, you loved him. You promised him you would never leave him. And you had never broken your promises before.

You loved him.

Deep purple eyes fell to the human shaped insect on the floor. And a laugh bubbled up from within him.

He did something bad. Terrible. He had made the woman who hurt him stop moving.

But it felt good.

And if it felt so good, then... why stop?

He was already stained a deep, dark black. He could never go back to being as pure as you had seen him. Perhaps, he had always been this way- perhaps that's why his so called 'mother' and her fox-pet had decided to seal away what was rightfully his. The power that she had inlaid within him.

The power that now pounded so freely through him. And it seemed like the only way to silence it was to let it go.

As the puppet exited the house, a trail of red followed behind him. Electro crackled at his fingertips as he walked towards the center of the village, and he revelled in the hushed and desperate whispers of the humans he passed by.

The pounding in his ears- in his head- only grew stronger with each passing second. The crackling electro a disgusting shade of darkened, tainted yellow as it emanated from him.

And like a bolt of thunder that once had scared him so; flashes of yellow now flew through the open air and showed no mercy to the humans he was surrounded by.

Screams filled the air, filled his ears- and all he could do was laugh. Such pathetic insects, all scrambling to seek shelter from his divine wrath. It was chaotic, beautiful, as red stained the ground and painted the houses in it's corruption.

A gentle breeze kissed the cheek that had rapidly healed it's wound. With it, it brought delicate pale pink petals from the sakura trees that were so abundant in this land.

The village fell still. Nothing but the blossoms that danced on the wind dared to move; to catch the eye of the puppet-murderer.

"K-Kabuki...?"

A voice so small called out to him, stirring him from his thoughtless-thoughts.

He turned to you, and it was like your very presence made the surrounding area brighten to how it was before. Suddenly the world was perfect again; bright and happy and welcoming and loving.

Your eyes, so beautiful and vibrant, were wide and tinged with fear. Your hair was still wet- evidence of your bath, but all it served was to remind the puppet of what he had seen. Of the divinity he had been so blessed to witness.

You didn't move as he walked up to you. You couldn't. Shock had it's tight grasp on your body and mind, and you were unable to even speak at the bloody scene around you.

The puppet smiled so sweetly at you. And despite being the same smile as he had always given you, it no longer looked so innocent.

"I love you." He said, voice proud and unwavering.

Your eyes darted to meet his. He looked so...

dark.

"What...?" You couldn't even process what he said.

"You said you loved me that night, and I never said it back. I love you, (Y/N)."

"What-... what did you do..?" Your voice trailed off into a pathetic whisper, and it made the puppet smirk as his hand moved up to cup your cheek- much like how yours had once done for him.

"They were... bad. All of them. They could have hurt you, like they did to me..." The pad of his thumb spread a deep red over your skin as it rubbed your cheek. "But you love me. You promised you would never leave me. And I know you would never hurt me like they did..."

It was like his eyes had become gateways to the abyss itself; dark, devoid of life- of the boy you had once loved. Black stained his beautiful purple irises; tainted the beautiful colour with darkness and something sinister. Just like the blood that now stained your cheek.

The puppet-murderer intently watched your face drain of colour; intently watched as your pupils shrunk into pinpricks- and made note of your body starting to tremble.

He knew the signs of fear- he himself had expressed the same many times before. He knew you were scared. His chest felt like it tightened around a non-existent heart... he didn't want to see you scared. Not of him.

"...They were going to hurt you. I-I heard them. T-They were waiting for you to come back, a-and they would have... I-I couldn't let them do that. I couldn't let them be bad. I-I wanted to protect you..."

You still continued to tremble. It was like you had barely heard the lie he had told- but you didn't push him away when he pulled you into a cold, blood-stained embrace. And that was enough for him.

"I will... protect you. Stay with you. I will... be good for you."

...another lie. He was no longer good- he could never be good again. His soul- his hands- were now permanently stained red... a red that would be drained of colour as soon as you left his side- and he refused to be seen with that vile black ick. He refused to let you go.

It was almost sickening how swiftly he was able to return to how he was just hours ago... innocent, sweet, gentle. Even as the vibrant crimson stained his once-white flesh. Tainted him. Changed him.

As you gazed at him with a slacked-jaw expression, you could see the surrounding area- the massacred village- devoid of colour... of life. As if the puppet-murderer had drained the pinks and purples and blues and reds and it all congregated into a swirling black in the center of his beautiful indigo irises.

Was your beautiful, sweet little puppet-boy always so... heartless?

The way he pressed his lips to yours was robotic. Stiff and almost forced- but you knew that this was just his way of doing things, until he got used to it.

Until he got used to kissing you. Loving you. Tainting you.

A colourless tear cascaded down your cheek, your eyes closed as the puppet continued to kiss you as sweetly and gently as he could.

When he pulled away, he gently took your hands into his own, and looked down to see you trembling in his grasp. He noticed just how pretty your hands were covered in red.

And his violet eyes flicked up to your face, your hair- his red-stained fingers reaching up to pluck a crimson petal from your hair.

The pretty pink looked good on you, he once thought.

But he thinks you look so much better covered in red.

#reader insert #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #kabukimono x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere x you #yandere wanderer

662 notes · View notes

vevobly · 2 months ago

Note

u know who it is 🙂‍↕️ yellowjackets reactions to fem reader slapping their butts out of nowhere?

Yellowjackets Reactions To Slapping Their Butt!

Jackie Taylor:

Jackie would probably freeze in surprise before laughing it off, and then brushing it off with a comment.

“Whoa, okay! Didn't see that coming” — Something lighthearted like that.

Now, I don't know why but I'm very inclined to believe Jackie would be thinking about it later. Like, really deeply think about it.

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna's reaction would probably depend on her mood. A glare when she's mad, a smirk when she's happy.

But by default, she might yelp before staring at you for a few minutes confusedly and then awkwardly averting her gaze from you.

If she feels like saying something to you, it might be something along these lines — “Uh, you trying to tell me something, or…?”

A part of her might even enjoy the attention you gave her, though she'd just keep that to herself. It's good to not be in Jackie's shadows for once

Taissa Turner:

Taissa would likely take it in stride. Like, sure. She'd be surprised at first by you doing that. But then she would be all cool and whatever about it.

I think her reaction to you slapping her butt would highly depend on your relationship with her.

If you guys are close, she might give you a playful glare. Maybe say “you’re bold, aren’t you?” or “careful, I might slap back” to you.

Van Palmer:

Van would probably laugh and slap your butt right back.

She probably wouldn't be phased by you slapping her butt. In fact, she’d probably egg you on for more.

Knowing Van, she'd definitely say something like this to you — “oh, it’s on now! come here”

Natalie Scatorccio:

Natalie would be caught off guard at first. It'd probably take her a few moments before she processes what you just did to her.

Then she might just laugh it off in her usual way and say something in response to you slapping her butt. She'd pretend it doesn't affect her, but it does.

If you’re close to her, she might actually like what you did to her. And she might say something like this — “seriously? What are you, 12?”

Lottie Matthews:

She would be confused at first before blinking once or twice after she takes what you did to her in mind.

I feel like with Lottie, she would either laugh it off awkwardly or ask what you were doing after.

She'd stare at you for a few minutes before saying “uh, what was that for?” to you and smiling all confusedly.

Laura Lee:

I think Laura Lee would either gasp or yelp at you slapping her butt then she'd turn around to look at you and just stare blankly for a moment.

Considering she takes her faith very seriously, I feel like she might ask you to not do it again as politely as she can possibly — “I don’t think that’s appropriate, please don’t do that again”

She might even give you a small lecture because of it, something about boundaries and all that.

Misty Quigley:

If you're not someone she likes, she'd probably just give you these very subtle dirty looks that speak for themselves—do it again and I might do something.

If you're someone she likes, she'd probably absolutely love it and take it as a sign that you like her some way or another. Giggling and getting overly excited about it.

She might even misinterpret the slap as a sign you’re interested in her romantically. Then you'd likely regret what you did because before you even know, she’s hovering around you even more than usual.

Misty is unpredictable for me. But I'm inclined to her saying something like “oh my god! I knew you liked me” or something similar.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman x you #taissa turner x reader #taissa turner x you #van palmer x reader #van palmer x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #laura lee x reader #laura lee x you #misty quigley x reader #misty quigley x you

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starlight-45 · 2 months ago

Text

Bllk boys X Affectionate! Extroverted! Reader (Part 2)

Featuring: Hyoma Chigiri, Reo Mikage, Seishiro Nagi

Here's the masterlist and part one with Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira and Rin Itoshi :)

A/n: Please enjoy reading! Comments & reblogs are appropriated. (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

~Hyoma Chigiri~

• Okay so

• As we all know our princess/red panther can be a little too sassy, even if the situation doesn't demand so. Flashbacks to "Are you even necessary?"

• So at first, he's more annoyed than anything, and don't get me wrong gorgeous it's not because of you.

• It's just...everybody is all over him from the start you know? He's been a prodigy from the start y'know so because of that people really were clingy and because of his gorgeous hair.

• "Hyomaaaa! Congratulations on your win! :D"

"Oh my God- okay. Who told you come? And you told you to call me by my first name?"

• But seeing your unfeigned disappointment at that really forced him to reconsider his words. You really did seem sad at that. Maybe...you really did like him.

• From that point, Chigiri tried his best to be not make off hand comments about your affection and you in general

• Everyone notices his change in attitude around you, and jokes about their mean princess finding love (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

• When you get comfortable enough to show physical affection to him, he low-key is flustered about it and acts a bit mean about it but loves it.

• "Helloooo! I missed you SO much!" *hugs*

"I was gone for like 2 days, wonder what will happen if it was more."

• Chigiri is never flustered by compliments though. He is used to it, but...it feels just a tab bit warmer whenever you say a complimentary compared to literally anyone else.

• "Your hair just is soooo silky! ♡"

"I know- but um, thank you."

• Takes your hand in his whenever you guys are out! With the lame excuse of that you don't "try to disturb random strangers" if you ask with a slight pink tint.

• But lets you drag him wherever you want by the arm. Just don't ask him about it later. He just likes seeing you giggle and smile. Nothing to see here.

• THAT HAIR THOUGH. He is soooo low-key about it and you're so excited about it confuses him.

•Yet he decides against to question you about it 'cause he doesn't want you to lose whatever sanity you have left.

• It doesn't stop him from indirectly teasing you about it though. And just exactly how he does it? By denying you to do anything about it.

• "Let me pleaseeeee do your hair! I'll do anything!"

"...no."

"Anything!"

"Buy me lunch tommorow."

"Deal!"

• Even though he kinda does act like a princess...he really does get grumpy when you say it :P

•But overall, he loves you and will give in to every request of yours anyway. maybe demanding some kisses too?

~Mikage Reo~

• Another one whose a bit sceptical at first, however his reasons are valid. He's a rich guy who doesn't wanna date just because of his status and money.

• Reo wants someone to excite him, to make him desire that person and that person happened to be you.

• Understood your intentions are pure very quickly. He is good at reading people alright? He was raised to be a business man after all.

• Is not at all ashamed to return your affections as soon as he understands that. You're just that adorable and sweet!

• However, even though he understands you're practically glued to him like glue, he tries not to get too attached. Poor boy doesn't wanna get in depression again.

• By the way, he fails miserably at that. You can't get rid of him now. Good luck :P don't worry he treats ya right

• And don't get him wrong, Reo's VERY responsible with money. Really-! See his financial and economic knowledge!

• But he can't help spoil you with your favorite food and gifts, you're so good to him! Just look at the thing for 0.2 seconds and you'll get it.

• You have to sometimes stop him though. I'm serious, if you don't want him to get bankrupt then please stop him sometimes. 🙏🏻

• "I thought I told you to return that bag ┐⁠(⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠)⁠┌"

"So what-? I returned it no?"

"AND YOU BROUGHT 2 NEW-"

• Possesive as hell though. Like he doesn't mind your extrovert nature and being a social butterfly.

• But he's a bit scared you know? Scared that you would find find someone better than him and leave him. yes fight me but he has definitely not recovered from his trauma.

• Reo has this little habit that he comes behind you, puts his both hands on your eyes with a "Guess who?" He does is whenever he can sneak behind you.

• Knows the answer will the same everytime. But everytime he does it, he gets a bit of satisfaction- like of course it's him, who else it would be?

• Loves it whenever you show affection in front of others for the same reason, that yes this amazing person loves me very much and you can never have 'em the way I do.

• Reo treats you sooo well, never letting you lift a finger. He doesn't do this just because he doesn't want you to leave, he does it because he geuninely wants to.

• Since he gives in to your every demand and is not even subtle about it everyone tells this guy to calm the hell down when it comes to you, and play it cool cause girls don't like clingy or easy guys-

• And he ignores them all- you're such a darling for him of course he'll give you whatever you ask for! You also kinda like being spoiled so it's a win-win situation.

• Can't help but be anxious whenever you interact with Isagi especially. For the love of God please don't leave especially for isagi.

~Seishiro Nagi~

• Hmm. Lemme think.

• Yeah. Nagi doesn't care at first. Unlike the others, he isn't intrigued or annoyed by your behaviour. He just is nonchalant towards it.

• It's too much of a hassle for him to feel those emotions that drains his already low energy for someone he doesn't know yet.

• "Nagi! Can we go to that café I was talking 'bout before?"

"... It's too far..."

"I'll pick you up!"

"Yeah, cool."

• But your efforts to spend time with him to make him like ya prove successful, he is first curious why are you so joyous by being with him?

• To liking how easy you are to talk to and a comfort to hang out with. You're always talkative even more since he's engrossed in his games and Nagi enjoys hearing your passionate thoughts and even mindless ramblings.

• Surprisingly good at returning physical affection obviously in a lazy way, but still makes some effort in it. Does that even make sense?

• Whenever you hug him on bed he just lays on top of you like a kid, with one arm supporting you and other holding his phone/switch.

• "You're too heavy!!!"

"But you were the one who said I'm a baby, babies are supposed to be small right?..."

"I meant that because of your personality not literally, you 190 cm baby!"

• Wants to just lean on your body when he's tired whole walking because giving a piggyback ride is not an option apparantly, and he is more disappointed than he should be.

• Just KNOWS that you find him cute and can't deny him anything so definitely uses it to his advantage to spend more time with him.

• You know that he just is too lazy to ask properly, holding you in his arms is much easy, he says so you roll with it. I mean can anyone deny this baby anything??

• All jokes aside, even if you talk about a lot of things and it seems like Nagi isn't really listening, he does remember everything, including the little details you mention.

• And after a point, actively asks questions too, to show that he is interested. Because Reo pointed out that you might not realise that he actually is interested.

• Still have to drag him everywhere because his energy level is still very smol. He tries to make an effort, he truly does, but he just sometimes can't get out of his paradise the bed.

• However he is well aware of the fact he can be difficult to take care of, and feels guilty sometimes...so he tries to make up for it. In his own way.

• "...'m sorry..."

"Huh? For what?"

"for being such a hassle sometimes...I know you you wanted to go out today :X"

"It's fine-"

"Actually, we can go there tommorow, if it's okay?"

"Oh! Sure!"

• Nagi isn't sure why he feels guilty because of his tendancies around you more, like even more than Reo. Maybe it's because of the fact he's supposed to be your partner, your equal, not just to be taken care of.

• Whatever it is, Nagi just knows he has to make up for all the precious time you devote to him & for the love given him. Somehow.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #reo mikage #reo mikage x reader #chigiri hyoma #chigiri x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader

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demonpiratehuntress · 1 year ago

Text

the best gift is you

OPLA!Zoro x F!Reader

Summary - You're having an incredibly difficult time finding an appropriate birthday present for Zoro.

Warnings - none, i think? I just wrote this right after hosting a soccer festival for an orphanage at my club, so I'm pretty much dead but wanted to get something out for my favourite Straw Hat's birthday <3 please excuse any errors, and happy birthday Zoro <3 <3 <3

"Usopp! Come with me."

You were just dragging the confused and slightly startled sharpshooter - because why did you want him to go shopping with you? - across the deck when you heard your boyfriend call out to you.

"Where are you going?"

You froze, having not expected him to be up from his nap so soon, "Um, grocery shopping?"

He frowned, "I can go with you."

"No!" You said quickly, then backtracked when you noticed how he became even more confused - and slightly hurt. "I mean, sorry babe but I really need Usopp's help with this specific trip."

This only confused the swordsman more, but before he could argue you were pulling the blabbering, protesting Usopp off the ship and into the small town. You could explain later, and make it up with the present, because you wanted this to be a surprise.

Zoro was left more puzzled than ever, wondering why you didn't even want him to go with for protection. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, so he guessed you must have your reasons. Then it hit him.

Oh...no.

"You two fighting or something?" Sanji asked from above.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Was Zoro's snarky response, coupled with an annoyed eyeroll. Sanji scoffed, but even he knew better than to further antagonise the already upset swordsman.

A few hours later...

"Ugh! Why is this so hard?!"

Your frustrated protest alarmed your crewmate, who had been eyeing a pair of sniper goggles at a nearby stand. You were practically pulling your hair out, on the verge of hot, angry tears, and your bottom lip was trembling.

"I can't go back without one!"

"You still haven't told me exactly what we're looking for," Usopp reminded you.

"Something Zoro would like," you sighed, "Or need. But there's nothing here. And it's almost dark out."

"Can't you just find something at the next island?"

"No! It has to be today, it has to..." You trailed off, biting your lip and trying your hardest to hold back tears.

"Why?"

"I...Because it has to."

You'd spent the last few hours scouring every shop on this island, but you had no idea what to get your boyfriend. He already had everything he needed, and there was nothing he wanted to your knowledge, so he was pretty difficult to shop for. He wasn't a typical boyfriend, that much you knew, so matching chains or charms wouldn't be appropriate. It was bugging you so much that you wanted to cry.

"Let's get back to the ship."

You took off before Usopp could question you, so he just followed without a word. Your behaviour baffled him, and slightly worried him, but he wasn't going to press any more if you didn't want to tell him. When you both got back to the ship, the green-haired swordsman was anxiously pacing the deck - the first time Usopp had seen him this nervous. The first time any of them - minus you - had seen him this nervous. But when you boarded, he breathed a sigh of relief.

His relief quickly morphed into concern when he noticed your eyes glistening with tears, and within seconds he was in front of you, hands gripping your forearms gently.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," you choked out, the tears free-falling. "I couldn't find anything. I looked everywhere. I looked so hard. I don't know...I didn't...I'm sorry..." You tried to wipe your tears away, but he beat you to it.

Usopp was long gone, not sticking around to see yours and Zoro's inevitable affection - the rest of the crew seemed allergic to your displays. So Zoro pulled you close, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He reached up with one hand to brush the tears falling away, his expression softening.

"Hey," he spoke softly, "Look at me." He continued only once you met his gaze, "I don't need anything. I don't want anything. You are enough, okay? More than enough, actually. You don't need to get me anything, because you've already given me the greatest gift in the world. You." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a few seconds.

A soft blush crossed your cheeks, the disappointment in you slowly deflating until it was nothing more than an afterthought. You sniffled as you smiled up at him, your body filling with warmth at his words - and at the look of absolute love and adoration he was blessing you with right now.

"I love you. You are all that I want, and all that I need. Don't ever apologise for something as silly as a birthday gift."

Before you could protest, his lips were on yours and he was locking you in the most loving, passionate kiss he had ever given you. He was trying to convey his message through the kiss, proving that you were all he craved. Proving that you were his favourite gift of all.

"I love you too," you smiled even more when he pulled away to let you breathe - ironically you were breathless.

"Good, now can we please go and sleep?"

You laughed, allowing him to pick you up and carry you off to bed.

"Whatever the birthday boy wants."

"Whatever I want, huh?"

"I thought you wanted to sleep!"

"...Changed my mind."

#one piece live action #opla #opla zoro #zoro x reader #opla x reader #zoro x you #opla zoro x reader #roronoa zoro

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httpwintersoldier · 1 year ago

Note

if you feel comfortable, can you write a one shot about Bucky and the reader (gender doesn’t matter) navigating intimacy after Bucky’s years with Hydra?

comfortable || bucky barnes smut one-shot

ᴄᴡ: ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ's ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ; sʟᴏᴡ sᴇx ᴛᴜʀɴs ɪɴᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴜɢʜ sᴇx

Bucky loved you beyond words could describe, but he was a tormented individual, to no one's disbelief.

But you were patient with him - and that killed him. He knew you wanted to have walks in public while holding his hand, but he was too afraid someone was keeping track of him. He knew you wanted to go to the beach and have fun, but he knew people would stare at his arm and eventually come up to him. And most of all, Bucky knew you wanted him to fuck you. He knew from the way you stared at his hands and thighs, from the way you'd shiver when his hand brushed against a less-than-appropriate way, and the way you'd tense up when his morning wood pressed against your ass.

But it had been too long, and it was a situation that would leave him too vulnerable - plus, the super soldier wasn't even sure he could still do it properly.

The man had made small attempts over the couple months you had been together, however. He would pull you onto his lap, bring your body closer to his while lying in bed and going behind you and pressing hus body against yours. But before you could get too far, he would back out entirely.

It would leave him with a painful boner that he would have to take care of in the shower, while it only left you confused and uncertain.

The first few downs you assumed it was nervousness, but as time passed you became more insecure, and so you voiced your concerns carefully, afraid that the relationship would deteriorate because of this.

"Uh, hey Buck?" You called from the door of his bedroom

He turned the wheely chair around to face you.

"Yeah, doll?"

The nickname alone said with that deep, intimidating voice of his, sent a tingle all over your body.

"Listen uh... Do you think I'm hot?"

You basically had to rip the question out of yourself. Bucky's eyes widened and his face got a bit of a blush mostly hidden by his beard.

The man instantly stood up and walked to you, his hands carefully holding your hips.

"Princess I- of course! Of course I do!" The soldier stopped to press a kiss to your cheek "Where is this coming from?" He asked, searching for something in your eyes as he furrowed his brows.

"Then do I kiss badly? Or do you just... not like the way I touch you?"

Bucky's blush grew intense and he chuckled nervously.

"Y/N, what's going on?"

You took a deep breath and bit your lip, looking at the ground as you collected your thoughts.

"Why..." the words were caught in your throat, a little afraid of the response, but you were too deep to back out now, knowing Bucky wouldn't just drop it "Why don't we have sex? I mean, we've been dating for a while now, did I do something?"

Bucky's eyes became docile, and his face softened.

"Oh, princess..." He said, cupping your face softly as he pressed a kiss onto your lips and caressed your cheeks with his thumbs "I'm sorry I made you feel like that. Really, I am. It's got nothing to do with you, trust me, you have no idea how much I want to fuck you."

The little comment had your face feeling hot and you tried (and failed) to supress the little smile that crept on your lips.

You looked into his eyes, hoping for him to continue the explanation. You could tell that it wasn't easy for him, so you grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit with you on the bed, waiting patiently for him to feel comfortable. You wanted him to know he didn't need to rush, that you'd wait and listen.

After a couple of seconds he sighed and looked into your eyes, a mix of sadness, sorrow, longing and fear painted on his face.

"My love... I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, but I... it's- it's been a long time. It takes me a little longer to connect to and trust people, I've told you this. But physical contact is even harder, I'm not exactly used to contact other than violence. I don't know what I like anymore, I don't know if I can properly do the things you like - shit, I don't even know if I could, you know, perform well."

You smiled softly, bringing his stressed face to look at you. One of your hands caressed his non-vibranium hand.

"Bucky... I wish you would've told me this earlier. We can start slowly and take our time. Tell each other what we enjoy and what we don't, and we can stop whenever. That's part of a relationship, okay? Does that sound good to you?"

The Sargeant smiled shyly, a beautiful smile that he seldom showed but you loved oh so much, and nodded.

"Sounds great, doll."

"But you have to promise to tell me if you feel uncomfortable, please. I don't care if you think I feel good and don't want to stop me, this is about you as well, okay?"

The man smiled wider at the way you could read him perfectly and prevent something he would 100% do.

"I promise."

You straddled his lap and enveloped him in a hug, loving the way his big arms wrapped around you. When you pulled away from the hug, you cupped his face and placed a loving kiss onto his lips.

Bucky chased your lips, making the kiss a little deeper and perverted.

"How about we begin the project now?" He asked with a smile bringing his hands to caress your hips.

You could feel a tent forming under you, and you guessed Bucky really wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to fuck you.

"Sounds good..."

Bucky was hungry for you, but he took it slow, as you did. His hands discreetly moved down to your ass, grabbing it and pulling your body closer so your crotch was directly on top of his very evident boner.

You moaned, knowing the vocal confirmation would please Bucky - and it did. The soldier smiled into the kiss and deepened it.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, caressing it and tugging on it softly. The man mimicked your noises into the kiss as well, his hands grabbing your ass in a rough yet pleasurable way.

You grinded down on his boner, your moaning increasing and his breathing quickening as you felt his hardened lenght rub between your folds.

You pulled away, feeling hot, overwhelmed and needy. You were looking at him with big eyes and plump lips from his small bites.

"It's okay if you don't want to go all the way." You said, secretly hoping he would continue.

Bucky kissed your neck sloppily, and then the spot under your ear.

"I want to fuck you dumb against every surface of this house." He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You only responded by connecting your lips in a hungry, animalistic kiss, trying your best to undo his jeans with one hand. You slipped your hand inside his boxers, feeling how hard he was and the wet spot from the leaking precum.

"Please... Don't tease me. I'm not lasting." The soldier pleaded, soft eyes looking at you as he caressed your hair.

You placed your hand on his chest and slowly pushed him down on the bed.

"Let me take care of you, Buck." You said enticingly, as you knelt between his legs.

You pulled down his pants and underwear just enough so his cock would spring out. Your hands caressed his thighs as you kissed around his pelvic bone, Bucky's hand tangling in your hair.

When you finally gripped his cock and placed his tip on your lips, a satisfied and desperate grunt left his lips.

You bobbed your head up and down his lenght, your hand following, taking more and more of him each time.

Bucky's tip abused the back of your throat, and his grip on your hair tightened slightly.

"Y/N shit- I wanna fuck you-" He pleaded, looking down into your eyes.

Bucky held your face and brought you up to connect your lips, gripping your hips to flip you two around, but you stopped him.

"I'm taking care of you." You said, kissing his neck.

Your boyfriend's grip on you softened. You removed your bottoms, earning a groan from him, and straddled the man again. You then grabbed his cock and aligned it with your entrance.

Bucky moaned lowly and his eyes darkened when he watched you sink down on his cock.

The man tugged on your shirt and you removed it, then feeling the cold metal of his hand brush past your sensitive nipples.

"So beautiful..." He muttered under his breath.

You supported yourself by placing your hands on his chest, the sound of your ass hitting against him filling the room along with your noises.

"Y/N- I don't know how much longer I can last..." Bucky said, mouth hung open and eyes shut.

"Cum in me baby, come on, fill me up..." You whined, your eyes clouded with darkness and lust that sent Bucky over the moon.

His grip on your ass tightened as he thrust up into you and brought your body down with force, hitting spots you thought impossible, making you bordeline scream in pleasure.

It wasn't long before he buried his cock deep in you with one last thrust, covering your walls with his cum.

Small mewls left your mouth as you felt him.

You got off of him and fell by his side breathless.

"My turn to make you feel good..."

Before you could protest, his head was between your legs eating you out, uncaring about the cum leaking out of you.

"Still got it." Bucky said with a shit eating grin as he felt you grip his hair.

"Shut up..." You replied breathlessly.

Bucky kept sucking and licking your folds and clit, his thick, vibranium fingers finding your entrance.

You were already close from his cock, and, eating you out like that, it didn't take long before you were cumming with a loud cry, incoherently trying to say his name.

When he laid beside you again, the man wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close. You pressed a wet kiss to his jaw and laid your head on his shoulder.

"You might regret doing that..." Bucky said smugly, referring to the previous activity.

"Why?" You asked with a pout, earning a smirk and a kiss from your boyfriend.

"Cause now I wanna make up for the 78 years I didn't have sex for."

#bucky #bucky smut #marvel #bucky fanfic #bucky reader insert #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes smut #bucky fluff #bucky x y/n

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ivelle-serenity · 7 months ago

Text

Skateboard 2

Wind breaker

author's note: This is a slow-burn story, but don't worry, it will have smut. I actually want to speed things up so we can have those kinds of scenes. btw, I want my story to have action as well, so yeah.

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

I had sworn off biking. I refused to touch those pedals again after what happened. That bike wouldn't control my life anymore. It nearly wrecked my grades. That's why I'm in Korea now, to get things back on track. Hoping for a fresh start.

But now, recalling my challenge to those guys, everything flipped. I was mad at myself. None of this would have happened if Wooin had just bought the bike yesterday.

I dropped my skateboard with a sigh, eyeing my bike. I moved away, ready to start skating. I had told Jay in class earlier that we'd meet at the skatepark. He didn't react much, so I took that as a green light.

After landing a slick slide move, I smoothly spun my skateboard. Flip tricks were my jam, the source of my skating joy. But I didn't stop there. I tackled the tallest ramp and smoothly glided down, board stuck to my feet. I leaned, balancing my body for the drop. That move was my specialty, grabs/airs.

I sensed someone watching me. Adjusting my helmet and my curly hair, I grinned when I saw Jay nearby, looking serious by my bike. He held his bike but wasn't riding.

His friends chattered, but he was lost in thought, focused on me. It quickened my pulse, but I didn't let it show.

"You're late," I quipped, skateboard in hand.

"Please don't say you want to race here?!" Dom's dramatic reaction cut in.

I noticed they were with a few girls and a guy. Some of them are my classmates so i'm kinda familiar with their names.

"Why? Nervous?" I teased, removing my helmet.

"But isn't this unfair? Jay's not used to biking in a place like this. You have the upper hand," the girl with pink hair pointed out.

"She's got a point," Dom's friend chimed in. "Plus, who races in a skatepark?" Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

"Plenty do," I replied calmly, though a bit irritated. "This is just nothing if you really know how to bike."

My words hung in the air, making everyone pause. All eyes turned to Jay, who had been quietly observing me. He seemed to be deciphering my expression, his own unreadable. Mysterious yet undeniably attractive. I arched an eyebrow at him.

"Ready to race or not?"

He sighed. "I was just waiting for you to finish." His brief but serious response caught me off guard.

A small smirk played on my lips. This is getting interesting. I quickly went to my bike. I wasn't sure if my outfit was race-appropriate since I didn't have any history of serious racing or tournament participation. I was just wearing a cropped long-sleeve cardigan with matching pants.

I glanced at Jay beside me and saw him adjusting his helmet. His expression was serious as he watched the slide-like structure where I had been playing earlier.

"Miss, if Jay wins, can you do my assignment too? Pretty please?" Dom suddenly appeared beside me. I just shook my head before laughing.

"Yeah, sure."

"That girl has the same vibe as Jay. Am I the only one who notices that?" one of Dom's friends remarked. If I recall correctly, his friends had called him Minu earlier, so that might be his name.

"They're both smart. But in biking? I don't think so," the girl with pink hair chimed in irritably.

Glancing at Jay, who was observing me, I couldn't resist teasing him. "Is that your girlfriend? She seems a bit whiny. Is that your type?"

"No, she's not," he replied simply.

"So that's not Shelly?"

He shot me a cold look, as if he didn't appreciate me mentioning his girlfriend's name. That's not my fault! I was just confused because he was with that girl earlier when he arrived. So I assumed she was Shelly. But obviously, judging from Jay's expression, she wasn't his girlfriend.

"Calm down, I was just asking," I chuckled before resting my arms on the handlebars.

"You're so noisy," he said emotionlessly.

I grinned. "Your girlfriend's not here? No moral support from her?"

"Why do you keep asking me about her?" he furrowed his brows. I raised my hands in a playful surrender.

He was cute when he got riled up.

"Just like I said, I was just asking."

"Then stop asking. Let's just get this over with. I still have to study," he replied flatly.

I paused as I remembered that I also needed to study. We had a quiz tomorrow. Jay noticed my reaction, so I avoided his gaze. What does he think? Does he think he's the only one allowed to worry about his studies? But that's the same reason I'm here in Korea.

"You're right. I still need to review too," I added, noticing the disbelief on his face.

I positioned myself, noting the arrival of the girl in pink in front of us. She looked serious and appeared to be the one starting our race with Jay. I glanced at Jay again, seeing him focus intently on the slide structure ahead, probably calculating equations in his mind.

"Aria, please start! I still don't have my physics assignment!" Dom pleaded, thinking Jay could easily win.

"Okay... Are you ready, Jay?" Aria asked, and Jay nodded.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" I said with a frown.

She smirked, "No, why bother?"

Annoyed, I rolled my eyes. When Aria counted down to three, Jay swiftly started biking, and I leaned casually on my bike as he took off. Was he really taking this seriously? It seemed like he wanted to give me a hard time with his assignments.

"What's she doing?"

"Why isn't she speeding up?"

As Jay approached the curve, I increased my pedaling speed. I heard gasps from Jay's friends. I grinned as I managed to keep up with Jay, surprising him. He glanced at me with disbelief but I kept pedaling. I sensed his hesitation due to the pavement's condition. I accelerated to avoid losing balance, knowing my bike might veer off if it hit a rough spot.

"Fuck! Is she really going through there?" Dom exclaimed.

"Does she want to get hurt? That's dangerous!" his girlfriend chimed in.

My bike soared through the air, and I adjusted my body to maintain control. Jay followed suit, but his landing wasn't as smooth due to his slower speed. He hadn't accelerated enough. I even executed a Wheelie trick to stabilize my bike, almost reaching the finish line.

My attention faltered when I spotted a guy with red hair from a distance. I furrowed my brows, instantly losing focus because of it.

"Seriously," I muttered, noticing Vinny's crew in the distance.

Why were they here? Damn it. Vinny's insults about being a girl echoed in my mind. I remembered how I insulted their crew, saying biking was for kids, but here I was racing against my classmate.

My bike slowed down, giving Jay the chance to speed past me and win. Frustration etched on my face as I crossed the finish line after him.

"What was that?" Jay approached me. Anger was evident on his face.

"W-What do you mean?" I forced a laugh. "Oh come on, don't tell me you actually believe I'd win?"

He stared at me intensely. Sweaty and breathless, we locked eyes, his filled with anger.

"You did it on purpose. We both knew you would win, but why did you do that?"

“I didn’t do anything, Jay.” I said with full confidence. . "I was just bored, so I challenged you. There's no way I'll join your crew."

I couldn't tell if I was lying to myself or speaking the truth. A part of me resists joining their crew because, as I said, I'm done with biking. But being around this man changes everything. Because of him, I find myself wanting to be part of their group. To enter their competitions. I want to understand him better, to get closer to him. How is it that he effortlessly exudes such allure? He's not supposed to be my type. I mean, I have no right to call anyone a nerd when I've been called that myself. But something about him draws me in.

But of course, that's just a fantasy. He has a girlfriend. And trust me, the moment I learned she's beautiful, I quickly dismissed any thoughts about Jay from my mind.

"Don't worry; I'll still do your assignment--" I added.

"Let's do it again," Jay interrupted firmly, surprising me. "I won't accept the result if I know you let me win that easily."

"You're crazy; I just told you that you're really good--"

"What's happening here?" We both stopped when Vinny spoke behind me. Jay's friends also approached. I felt the tension between the two crews.

"What's that trash doing here?" Dom's expression changed upon seeing Joker and Wooin.

"Why didn't you invite us to your race, Demitra? I would love to see you win against their so-called ace," Wooin's tone was challenging.

"You're friends with them?" Minu asked. I was about to shake my head when Vinny spoke up.

"If she was, what about it?" Vinny's tone was dangerous, causing me to back up. He was now at eye level with Jay. Dom was supposed to say something but Vinny cut him off.

I tightened my grip on my palm. "This is becoming interesting," Wooin exclaimed with excitement. He was with Hyuk and Joker, exchanging glances with the Hummingbird crew.

Vinny scoffed. "So this is your training? Racing against a girl?" He said it disbelievingly to Jay.

"Since when did you start putting down girls?" Dom asked, annoyed. "Did you do this to Shelly before?"

Vinny stayed quiet.

I clenched my fist. I couldn't believe it. I recently found out from Sunny High students that Vinny used to be part of Hummingbird. Now that I realized he was friends with these people, especially Jay's girlfriend, it only fueled my anger even more.

How could he respect girl riders in Hummingbird but disrespect me? We may not be close, but he had no right to insult my abilities.

I shot Wooin a glare. "Just go. Take your crew and leave," I said firmly, trying to contain my frustration. The smirk vanished from Wooin's face, replaced by a scowl. He exchanged a tense look with me before muttering a curse and adjusting his hair in irritation.

"Fine," he turned away and motioned to his friends, especially Vinny. "We'll wait. Finish your little chat with the nerds first," he added with a sneer.

"Who're you calling a nerd, jerk?" Dom almost lunged forward but was held back by Yuna. Minu and June looked equally irritated, while Jay maintained a watchful gaze on me.

Mia, looking confused and concerned, spoke up, "What's gotten into Vinny? He's never like this, especially not with us or with riders like Shelly."

Minu's response was short and sharp, "He's just being an idiot, plain and simple."

My chest tightened as I realized they knew Vinny's behavior because they were close to him. It meant Vinny wasn't naturally disrespectful towards women; there was something personal here, and I couldn't fathom what it was besides our rocky start.

"I'll handle your assignment later," I told Jay, trying to diffuse the tension.

He met my eyes with a steely gaze. "No. We'll do it together."

I blinked in surprise. "W-What?"

"That race wasn't fair," Jay explained evenly. "I won't let you take the fall for it alone," he added, a touch of determination in his voice.

178 notes · View notes

obislittleone · 1 year ago

Text

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

Tags (open):

@justanothersadperson93 @moonchild-warrior @hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof @untamedheart81 @just-someone-broken @joelalorian @xybil @yvonneeeee

If i tagged you wrong, or you want to be taken off at any time, just lmk!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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moonpie016 · 4 months ago

Text

Moon goes on a whole talking session.

*Walks in and realizes that this is becoming a frequent thing to post on here. And I'm happy about that, because I get to show what I make all the time. :]*

But now onto the drawings, and will eventually make a list on things I want to do next because that'll help me stay on track.

---

Positive stuff below the drawing.

---

It's the dudes inside my head, yay. Though they're all asleep, well two of em are. I drew this for whatever purpose it would serve, that being that my insides, while still a confused state and overall over reactive response to anything that needs rephrasing. Or just anything that happens, good, bad, whatever, that it has a way of comforting itself. It tries.

It tries to do the bare minimum of existing, even if it is tricky with having to always remember and think of more to do.

How to react appropriately, how to understand things to its full capability. How to understand others and everything more.

It's difficult, not in the way that doing things is difficult, but however that goes. These conceptualized beings of emotion have existed for some time, don't remember when but they have. But they always hadn't looked like this, obviously/lh.

But they all serve the same purpose combined or separate.

---

And, to go completely off topic, to go ramble.

Songs have whatever emotional attachment they can hold, whether important or not, it's just something that sticks. Helps.

And as you can see how much art I make, how many times I've probably listened to most of all the songs on repeat by now, what random pieces of dialogue I'll spew to write.

Chonny's music is comfort. Now it isn't just his, other artists as well. But those aren't important rn. His music in general, not just CCCC. Through whatever emotional moment months ago that made me feel lost and confused on what to do, what do I do now. I needed to find something to latch onto, if not, I'd feel..off. like I wasn't doing anything, because I wasn't doing anything. I tried to get into stuff but it wasn't working, like it needed to naturally happen instead of force myself.

The music has related to my state of mind (no pun) at certain points. And I find that comforting. Concerning? Maybe, but comforting.

Like, getting into what's popular, what new game, but that didn't work. And I'm kinda happy my brain decided to be now fixated on this man's music. Sure every time I'd like to explain or show someone, I need to specify and always show specific songs. Cus. Yeah. But now, I see people's work and stuff, and it's all so cool. And though the inconsistency of this blog is very apparent. I've enjoyed my time on here, very much. Even if I don't always actually speak to someone, because I don't really know what to say or start a conversation. (Seeds/social anxiety). I'm still happy for whatever interaction I get. I'm happy to feel included in this bizarre/pos and silly household. Idk why I'm calling it a household. Just go with it.

Even if I linger around or just post a drawing, I'm enjoying it. Some artwork may be more serious than silly. But yeah.

And to also just say whatever without rethinking is great, now I'm not going to say anything out of word. But just being silly in general with my wording. Y'know? Make odd jokes or talk excessively. (Wow).

Sum it up, I appreciate you all. Though you don't know me or I know you, it means a lot. I didn't think a joke about Heart beating up Mind would be turned into anything else, or that people would actually say anything.

This is just a happy little appreciation thing. I don't know how to end it! I just felt to write this.

So, uh yeah. :3

*Runs back into the hills*

Thanks for reading my ramble/pos.

---

#chonny jash #chonny jash fanart #chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny jash heart #chonny jash mind #chonny jash soul #chonny jash oc #oc #appreciation for all of you dudes #dudes in a neutral sense #yeah :3 #this'll be something when I re-read it #dancing dancing but not actually #Moon's rambles

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augustjustice · 2 months ago

Text

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.

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