Stupid things that the Basketball club members do to show affection to you
Ace x reader, Jamil x reader, Floyd x reader
Ace calls out your name, whenever he’s about to shoot. A horrible habit that immediately draws all the defenders towards him… but hey, the sense of satisfaction he gets from slip sliding away from them and scoring a goal anyways is always worth it.
The feeling of your gaze on him as he darts into scoring range does make his pulse race. To think out of all of the players on the court, you were only looking at him. In this one moment, it’s almost as if as you two were the only ones there.
He makes sure that he catches your gaze as the ball slowly sinks into the basket, with the swish of a clean shot into the net.
There’s that smug sort of pride Ace gets whenever he looks at the aghast faces of the opposite team. As well as that tiny little tinge in his heart when he looks up at you, a crooked, boyish smile dancing across his lips.
Ya saw that, right? Wasn’t he so cool?
You know he’s going to pester you about his shot non-stop when he gets off the court. Regaling you with tale after tale of his heroic exploits until you jab him with your elbow. Well, if he wins this match, you’ll consider buttering up his ego a bit.
Besides, it’s not as if he has to tell you everything. You were there, in the stands. Cheering for him… and the rest of the team, of course.
Mostly for him.
He also has another horrible habit. Ace kisses his knuckles before lightly punching in your direction. He does this before every match, from the moment he steps onto the court. Ace’s version of a flying kiss, his own personal lucky charm.
If he’s ever questioned about it, Ace laughs it off. Claiming that he’s passing on all his bad luck to you, so he can focus on the game. Truth to be told? He‘ll much rather give you an actual kiss.
Ace’s personal good luck charm, for every match.
Jamil lingers around you, when it’s time for a break. Plopping himself in the seat beside you, his shoulder bumping into yours. He likes to sit right by you, feeling his pulse race against yours. There’s something about having you next to him that just… sets him at ease.
Jamil times his heartbeat to yours, chest heaving up and down. Calming himself down for the next round, clearing his adrenaline pumped mind. You busy yourself with a towel as well, mopping off Jamil’s head. He’ll try to snatch the towel from you, muttering about how he can handle it himself, but you’re insistent about him taking a proper break.
Jamil can only give him to the fluff of the towel, and your gentle touch. Sometimes, your fingers just brush against his face, a sudden flush of warmth lingering on his skin. Almost like an intimate touch.
So he contents himself by watching you take care of the entire team. Sometimes, Jamil gets a little jealous, watching you flutter around, abuzz. He’ll ask for your help with braiding his hair, bundling it up into a tight bun of sorts. You gladly oblige, your fingers running through his hair.
Jamil appreciates this, honestly. Most of the time, he’s the one looking after Kalim. For once… it’s nice to feel fawned over, even if it’s only for a while. Well, since you’ve already put in so much effort for Jamil… guess it’s only right if he brought back a victory, hm?
Nothing less, for you.
Floyd likes to pick you up. Before and after, every match. Before the match begins, you’ll feel a pair of lanky arms snake around your torso, before you’re lifted up by Floyd. He gives you a quick affectionate squeeze, before setting you down again. His personal pre-match ritual, Floyd chirps as his chin nuzzles into your scalp.
He does this without warning every single time, sneaking up on you silently. Even if you’re wary, glancing around for any sign of that eel, Floyd still finds ways to surprise you. You’re not escaping his grip that easily, Shrimpy!
After every match, you’re immediately attacked by a very tall eel drenched in sweat. Floyd loses the slightly hint of subtlety after the entire basketball match, and just straight up grapples you into his arms.
If it’s a victory for Night Raven College’s team, Floyd’s swinging you around, his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists. It’s a big win for him! Hey, did you see the way that guy’s face just fell when Floyd blocked his shot? Did you, did you?
On the days it ends in a loss, Floyd just grabs you and buries his face into your shoulder. You can feel his breaths on your skin, gentle puffs that make your shoulder tingle. He holds you there for a while, legs wrapping around his own. Silently reflecting on his loss, calibrating his emotions perhaps. You wouldn’t know.
Although in the silence of those days, you can’t help but worm an arm out of his hold, stroking his hair the best you can from that awkward angle. Rubbing his hair, tousling it up. Sometimes, Floyd lets you. Snuggling closer towards you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.
Sometimes he traps your hand under his cheek, nudging you softly. He won’t stop until your palm is flat against the side of his face, cupping his cheek tenderly. Sometimes he just wants to be held himself, Y’know?
Stay with him for a while, okay?
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