AE and AR get on a plane, they leave the country as friends, then return home as lovers.
full story on AO3
🗓️ August 25, 2023
📍40,000 feet above
Austin scrolled through the in-flight movie options, "Which would you like?"
Inside the private jet, the cabin was dim and intimate, most of the Team USA roster asleep under noise-canceling headphones, some snoring too.
Anthony, slumped in the plush seat beside him, grinned. "Man, just pick something. I’m easy." He’d abandoned his own seat across the aisle to squeeze in next to Austin twenty minutes ago, wanting to watch with him. The closeness had felt natural and easy, after weeks of training camp and a handful of exhibition games.
"I'll just choose a random one," Austin said, finally selecting a big-budget action movie he was pretty sure neither of them would pay much attention to.
As the opening credits rolled, Ant shifted beside him, his shoulder pressing firmly against Austin’s. He didn’t move away. The intro played for a few seconds, before Ant suddenly reached over and tapped the screen, pausing it.
"You good?" Austin asked.
Ant was staring at the frozen image on the screen, but his mind was clearly elsewhere, as he chewed on his lip.
"I realized, I don't want to watch," Ant said. "I just want to speak to you about something."
Austin shifted in his seat so he could face Ant. It seemed serious. "Sure. What's up?"
"You ever think about it all, Austin?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual, meant only for the space between them.
"Think about what?" Austin asked, giving Ant his full attention.
"This life. The money. The fame. The… people that come with it."
Austin shrugged a shoulder. "Sometimes. Try not to get too in my head about it. Can’t let it distract from the ball."
"Yeah," Ant said, but it sounded hollow. He let out a long, weary sigh that seemed too big for his young body. "It’s just… it gets complicated. Women... they’re exhausting."
Austin stayed quiet, just listening.
"You know people talk about my situation," Ant started, stumbling over the words. He finally turned to look at Austin, his expression open and unguarded. "The baby mamas. It’s… there’s four of them."
"I’ve heard things."
"It’s true," Ant admitted. "Four kids. Four different mothers. And I love my kids, man. I’d die for them. Provide for them forever. But the mothers…" He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration. "It’s like they all want a piece of you, but not you, you know? They want the version of you that pays the bills, shows up for the photo op. It’s demanding. It’s constant. And I just… I get tired. So tired of the drama. I start something thinking it’ll be different, and then… I just shut down. I can’t do it. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just… make it work?"
Austin absorbed the confession. He could see the genuine struggle on Ant’s face, like he's been carrying it for awhile.
"Ant, man," Austin began, his voice gentle but firm. "That sounds… heavy. But maybe… you’re looking for the right thing in the wrong places. You gotta know what you really want first. Not what you think you’re supposed to want. You gotta be solid with yourself before you can be solid with anyone else. It ain’t fair to them, or to you, to keep trying the same thing, and end up in the wrong direction, ya know what I mean?"
Ant’s intense gaze didn’t waver. He searched Austin’s face, and in it, he saw no judgment, only understanding.
"I do know what I want," Ant said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, so low Austin had to lean in slightly to hear him over the plane’s hum. The proximity warmed the space between them.
"Yeah? What’s that?" Austin asked, his own voice soft.
Ant’s eyes held his, in a way Austin had never seen before.
"It’s not women," Ant said, the words were simple, but it confused Austin.
Austin paused. His brain, usually so quick on the court, stuttered to a halt. The sentence echoed in the scant inches between them.
It’s not women.
The implication was obvious, and Austin was still unsure.
"Ant, I don’t…"
He didn’t get to finish.
"It’s you," Anthony breathed, the words a confession meant only for Austin’s ears. His eyes flickered down to Austin’s lips before meeting his gaze again. "Austin. It’s you I want."
LeBron James 🫶 Austin Reaves | 🎈 warning: 18+ only
LeBron's team mate and lover Austin possessed a miraculous gift: his ass healed any injury instantly. LeBron used it to manipulate the league. Victory for the Cavaliers was guaranteed, and the cost was his lover's body. But little did they know, if they failed to hold their end of the deal, Austin's healing powers come with a curse.
🗓️ January 2016
📍 Cleveland
The throb in LeBron's knee was a dull, persistent ache, a constant reminder of his own frustrating mortality.
His haters have celebrated his aging. They said his reign is about to end.
He was sprawled on the massive bed in his private recovery suite. The initial reports said three weeks.
Three weeks.
It might as well have been three years.
There was a soft knock, and the door opened. Austin slipped in, with concerned eyes, and that devastatingly perfect body hugged by a plain white shirt and simple grey sweatpants. Just the sight of him made the pain recede by a fraction.
"Hey, Bron," the rookie said softly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. His hand found LeBron's, fingers lacing together. "How's the knee?"
"It hurts like hell," LeBron grumbled, pulling him down for a slow, deep kiss. Austin's mouth tasted like mint and youth. "Makes me feel old."
Austin pressed his face against LeBron's neck. "You're not old. You're just… temporarily inconvenienced."
LeBron chuckled. One hand slid down, palming the incredible, round curve of Austin's ass through the soft fabric. He squeezed, and his baby gasped softly against his skin.
"I want you tonight, Daddy..." Austin whispered into his ear.
Whenever he calls him Daddy, LeBron knows, t's a sign. That boy is horny and wants sex.
"Daddy can't do much tonight, baby," LeBron murmured, his voice filled with lust. "So you're gonna have to do the work. Be good for me."
Austin's eyes darkened with immediate, eager obedience. "Anything for you, Daddy."
“I want to write a fic about this but I don’t think anybody will be interested in it” ummm hello excuse me ma’am what do you mean you don’t think anybody will be interested in it??? YOU. YOU ARE INTERESTED IN IT???? write it because YOU are interested in it and YOU want to write about it. fanfic writing should always be first and foremost about YOUR enjoyment, not other people’s.
People in this certain fandom are angry that a ship gets written about most. Let's call it Ship X.
The fandom is small, as in only 1-3 fics get posted in there per day. People are angry that writers for Ship X keep writing and it's only the ship that appears on the front page. But that's because other writers for other ships don't write much. It's just that there are many authors who want to write for Ship X.
Now people are saying that Ship X shippers have no etiquette and they are "clogging up the tag".
Is it Ship X writers' fault that people don't write much about other ships?
So should Ship X writers wait for Ship A or Ship B's shippers to publish before they publish their stories?
What's your take on this?
Thank you so much.
- Triple Double Choco anon
this is one of the stupidest, most childish things I’ve heard people be mad about it’s almost comical. if you (general you) want more of your ship, then you write about your ship. you don’t bitch and whine about other people writing about another ship.
fanfic is a hobby. a HOBBY. people write for themselves first and foremost. so if ship X writers want to keep writing about their ship then I sure hope they keep writing about ship X and have fun doing it unapologetically.
no one needs other people’s permission in order to engage in their hobby. no one needs to wait for other people’s hobbies and interests to get more popular first before they continue with their own hobbies.
also nothing clogs up the tag because they can always just filter out the ship they don’t want, if they have basic knowledge of how ao3 works.
I hope ship X keeps having more fics posted while those people who act like a bunch of spoiled babies continue crying about the lack of their ship’s content because instead of writing it themselves like normal adults, they keep being entitled and acting like a bunch of spoiled brats who think the world revolves around them.
Luka Doncic 🫶 Austin Reaves | a Halloween Special: based on "Carrie" by Stephen King
Amid relentless xenophobic bullying, Luka found solace in Austin, his quiet defender and the object of his secret affection. When he's had enough of the constant torment, Luka's hidden powers erupt, forcing Austin to witness a vengeance born from pain and a love that he never dared to speak.
🔺️Warning: bullying, homophobia, blood and violence
Classes were over. Luka Doncic walked to his locker and found, nestled between his worn Slovenian-English dictionary and his geometry textbook, another note. He didn't need to open it. The paper was the same, the handwriting the same. It said: "Eurotrash".
He was used to it now. He just pulled it out, crumpled it calmly, and dropped it in the trash.
The basketball court had been his only escape, the one place where his body knew a language everyone understood. But even there, his skill was an offense. He'd sink a three-pointer from the corner, a perfect, silent arc that barely whispered through the net, and instead of high-fives, he'd get turned backs and muttered curses.
"Show-off," Robert, the team captain, would hiss under his breath. "Think you're better than us, reef-ugee?" They'd freeze him out of plays, pass the ball just a second too late, leaving him exposed to the opposing team's brutal charges. His talent was a constant, glaring reminder of their own limitations, igniting their jealousy and insecurities.
Only Austin Reaves was different. Austin, with his sun-bleached hair that fell into his eyes and a smile that felt like a secret shared just with him. He played first base for the school's baseball team and had a laugh that warmed Luka and made the heavy loneliness feel lighter, if only for a moment.
Their friendship had begun in the unlikeliest of places: detention.
What happened was, a big kid had a smaller one pinned to a locker. Luka yanked the bully off. Austin jumped in to help. But when a teacher showed up, the two fighters pointed at Luka and Austin, claiming they had started the whole thing. Their stories matched perfectly. With no other witnesses, the teacher had to believe them. Luka and Austin were handed matching detention slips for causing trouble.
They were assigned to clean the chemistry lab and library together for a week. Their initial silence had given way to conversation.
Austin was fascinated by Luka's background, by his stories of the alpine valleys of Slovenia, a place he'd only ever seen in pictures. Luka was captivated by Austin's easy American confidence, the way he didn't take himself too seriously.
They would slump against the cinderblock wall, their shoulders almost touching, and talk until the bell rang.
"So, when did you start playing basketball?" Austin asked, genuinely curious as he turned to face his new friend.
"I was 8, my dad pushed me, he was a coach too. He said, maybe I am good, with basketball. So he wanted me to try," Luka said, a fond smile breaking through his usual reserve. "My mother is kind, but coming here, she became so strict. Very strict. Always worry, about my grades, make sure I read my books. She worry, always, about me getting into trouble, saying basketball won't matter if I don't good in school. So, I feel like I live in pressure cooker, you know… How about you, why you play baseball?"
"My dad as well, he was a pitcher in college and taught me how to throw a curveball before I could ride a bike. My brother plays basketball though, but somehow I ended up playing baseball, I guess I just loved the rhythm of it," Austin shrugged.
"Do you want to play basketball, with me? Just for fun sometime, maybe shoot some hoops?" Luka hesitantly invited.
"Maybe. Why not, it could be a good way to blow off steam," Austin smiled.
They talked about the struggles of being a teenager and how life feels so complicated, navigating school, sports, and the constant pressure to figure out who you are.
"So, have you adjusted to life here?" asked Austin.
"Yeah. But I still feel, like alien, you know. People not welcome me. Like nobody wants me here," said Luka, as he stared at his shoes.
"But I want you here," said Austin, his voice firm.
Luka looked away, blushing slightly at the directness of Austin's words.
Then, suddenly, the bell rang.
Luka cleared his throat. "I guess it's time to go."
"See you tomorrow?" asked Austin, hopefulness in his tone as he gathered his backpack.
"Yes, tomorrow."
They both walked out into the hall, Luka still feeling the warmth up his neck from when Austin said "I want you here", the usual dread of another day replaced by a strange, new feeling.
Luka Doncic 🫶 Austin Reaves | a Halloween Special: based on "Carrie" by Stephen King
Amid relentless xenophobic bullying, Luka found solace in Austin, his quiet defender and the object of his secret affection. When he's had enough of the constant torment, Luka's hidden powers erupt, forcing Austin to witness a vengeance born from pain and a love that he never dared to speak.
🔺️Warning: bullying, homophobia, blood and violence
Classes were over. Luka Doncic walked to his locker and found, nestled between his worn Slovenian-English dictionary and his geometry textbook, another note. He didn't need to open it. The paper was the same, the handwriting the same. It said: "Eurotrash".
He was used to it now. He just pulled it out, crumpled it calmly, and dropped it in the trash.
The basketball court had been his only escape, the one place where his body knew a language everyone understood. But even there, his skill was an offense. He'd sink a three-pointer from the corner, a perfect, silent arc that barely whispered through the net, and instead of high-fives, he'd get turned backs and muttered curses.
"Show-off," Robert, the team captain, would hiss under his breath. "Think you're better than us, reef-ugee?" They'd freeze him out of plays, pass the ball just a second too late, leaving him exposed to the opposing team's brutal charges. His talent was a constant, glaring reminder of their own limitations, igniting their jealousy and insecurities.
Only Austin Reaves was different. Austin, with his sun-bleached hair that fell into his eyes and a smile that felt like a secret shared just with him. He played first base for the school's baseball team and had a laugh that warmed Luka and made the heavy loneliness feel lighter, if only for a moment.
Their friendship had begun in the unlikeliest of places: detention.
What happened was, a big kid had a smaller one pinned to a locker. Luka yanked the bully off. Austin jumped in to help. But when a teacher showed up, the two fighters pointed at Luka and Austin, claiming they had started the whole thing. Their stories matched perfectly. With no other witnesses, the teacher had to believe them. Luka and Austin were handed matching detention slips for causing trouble.
They were assigned to clean the chemistry lab and library together for a week. Their initial silence had given way to conversation.
Austin was fascinated by Luka's background, by his stories of the alpine valleys of Slovenia, a place he'd only ever seen in pictures. Luka was captivated by Austin's easy American confidence, the way he didn't take himself too seriously.
They would slump against the cinderblock wall, their shoulders almost touching, and talk until the bell rang.
"So, when did you start playing basketball?" Austin asked, genuinely curious as he turned to face his new friend.
"I was 8, my dad pushed me, he was a coach too. He said, maybe I am good, with basketball. So he wanted me to try," Luka said, a fond smile breaking through his usual reserve. "My mother is kind, but coming here, she became so strict. Very strict. Always worry, about my grades, make sure I read my books. She worry, always, about me getting into trouble, saying basketball won't matter if I don't good in school. So, I feel like I live in pressure cooker, you know… How about you, why you play baseball?"
"My dad as well, he was a pitcher in college and taught me how to throw a curveball before I could ride a bike. My brother plays basketball though, but somehow I ended up playing baseball, I guess I just loved the rhythm of it," Austin shrugged.
"Do you want to play basketball, with me? Just for fun sometime, maybe shoot some hoops?" Luka hesitantly invited.
"Maybe. Why not, it could be a good way to blow off steam," Austin smiled.
They talked about the struggles of being a teenager and how life feels so complicated, navigating school, sports, and the constant pressure to figure out who you are.
"So, have you adjusted to life here?" asked Austin.
"Yeah. But I still feel, like alien, you know. People not welcome me. Like nobody wants me here," said Luka, as he stared at his shoes.
"But I want you here," said Austin, his voice firm.
Luka looked away, blushing slightly at the directness of Austin's words.
Then, suddenly, the bell rang.
Luka cleared his throat. "I guess it's time to go."
"See you tomorrow?" asked Austin, hopefulness in his tone as he gathered his backpack.
"Yes, tomorrow."
They both walked out into the hall, Luka still feeling the warmth up his neck from when Austin said "I want you here", the usual dread of another day replaced by a strange, new feeling.
