#now he’s a D1 athlete

[pixiesnooze]

ngl my friends and foes i only care about like maybe 3 ?? 3 and a half?? characters in haikyuu and like two of those characters are pre time skip tobio and time skip tobio in that order

[gothamundernightlight]

Random Shit the Waynes Do on Social Media

Dick:

- The white whale of D1 and Olympic gymnastics athletes; always stitches their stunts and challenges, executing them perfectly, but no one knows who he is or who trained him

- Shares pictures of random children, and the whole internet becomes a detective trying to figure out if Bruce Wayne adopted another kid or if his gymnastics students won another trophy

- Photo montages of Haley being the cutest, which slowly transitions into Haley in whatever cute hat the internet can send to Dick’s PO Box

- Random video of him skydiving while giving tips on what to do if your chute doesn’t deploy. He never deploys his chute doing the video and no one can tell if it’s a bit or not.

Jason:

- AI Voiceover text posts providing surprisingly insightful analysis into classic literature

- A full six part rant on the Broadway adaptation of “The Great Gatsy”

- Random selfies complete with wildly made up backstories of any and every new injury he has

- Prank war on Damian specifically (this was intended for Talia but his finger slipped and now the whole internet loves it)

Tim:

- Randomly goes live to do study/work/research with me sessions complete with an actually decent Lofi soundtrack that no one can find (He totally mixes it himself but won’t admit it)

- Did ONE social media vlog for WE’s marketing division and it went so viral he gets forced to do more. The dead eyed stare he gives the camera with every stupid dance the intern teaches him makes the video top-tier

- Cute couples videos with Bernard

- Skateboard tricks (and fails)

- Screenshots of text conversations between him and his siblings discussing the most random shit??

Cass:

- Dance routines/pre-show/GRWM videos

- Shakily filmed videos of her kicking Dick’s ass and everyone just calls her a baddie in the comments. She doesn’t know what that means but she appreciates the love.

- Her and Steph’s late night food runs with the two of them just belting out to a song in a dark parking lot

Steph:

- Posts riddles and puzzles and how to solve them. She’s really good at it. Riddler hates her.

- Apartment tour of all the purple shit she owns. She’ll never admit that the room she’s showing off is her Wayne Manor bedroom, so everyone believes she just has a moderately sized loft apartment somewhere and she just never shows the kitchenette

- Her and Cass’s late night food runs with the two of them just belting out to a song in a dark parking lot

- POV shots of her going up to the boys asking them random questions. Dick matches her energy. Jason tells her to fuck off. Tim is barely conscious. Damian always has an overly rational answer to take the fun out of it. Duke just stares blankly at her (he always comes back later with a proper answer now that he’s had time to think about it). Bruce just stares blankly at her

Damian:

- Art reveals that never get many views but he’s still proud of nonetheless. Dick always comments on them to hype him up

- Accidentally recreates a popular vine that went viral and it’s just him insulting fellow GA kids under his breath but one of them says hi to him and he’s instantly polite back. His most popular video

- The multi-part experiment of him trying to Pavlov Tim, and when it actually works, Tim just chases Damian around the manor. The video cuts to black frames after Tim takes a flying launch at him

- All the pet videos. There are so many. People try to cancel him for exploiting them, but Damian clearly demonstrates that he would never force his animals to participate for views and how they will just leave if they don’t want to do something. Batcow is in the background just two-stepping unprompted

Duke:

- Every morning without fail, he posts a daily sunrise pic of Gotham, with a positive affirmation caption. One day he’s sick and he wakes up to a thousand messages of people panicking because their favorite poster has disappeared. He never misses a sunrise again

- Passionate rants about local government. Will not shut up about it. He might be an anarchist, but he’s forever remain optimistic that one day the systems that define society will one day actually work for all people. Bruce has every single one saved so he can implement Duke’s ideas into reality

- Boxing videos of him training with Luke. It’s never meant to be a thirst trap…but sometimes it is

- Dumb selfies. Duke unironically loves taking them, no matter what face he pulls, what filter he uses, not even caring where he is. This gets him in trouble the one time he posts one of him leaning off the edge of a high rise roof

Babs:

- Constant lectures on cybersecurity and internet safety. She teaches this at the library as a volunteer but feels she can reach a lot of people by building a platform

- Computer build stuff. Brands reach out to her for her reviews and she thoroughly discusses each product in length

- Rarely posts about her disability, but absolutely tears people to shreds when they make ableist comments about her. The only time she brings it up first is when City Hall takes over a month to fix their elevator and she calls them out on it

Harper:

- Electronics repairs. She constantly takes things apart to teach people how to fix it, and this can range from toys to cars. On more than one occasion , her video has been interrupted by someone who planned to be using the vehicle she’s just taken apart

- 2 AM hair dye/maintenance sessions. She constantly gets comments from men being like “Therapy works too, y’know” or “No, you’re so beautiful? Why would you do that to yourself.” She responds to the comments with a video of a gun pointed at the camera with the sole caption being “Fuck Off.”

- Gym videos. She and Dick work out together and he’s the ultimate hype man

- Outfit montages of her getting ready for a random gala and she’s always pulling off the most masc-looking suits that look gorgeous on her

Helena:

- Target practice. She does all kinds of trick shots and crazy crossbow stunts in a wide variety of outfits. Her most popular video is of her in a corset and platform heels.

- Her and Steph bonding over all things purple

- Outfit of the Day posts. The girl has expensive tastes and she absolutely shows it off.

Bruce:

- Occasionally does promo stuff for WE (because Tim refuses to do all of it, and their social media intern won’t back down)

- Shares absolutely wild stories from his college years that somehow always get proven to be true even when the whole comments section is just like “this seems false???”

- Kid tour. He saw one mom do it and felt sad bc he’s never get the kids to agree, but somehow they all did (Alfred bribed them.)

- Shares everything from each one of the charities he’s involved with. Has reposted every single one of their posts on his own personal channel. It raises them hundreds of followers each time.

- One of the kids posted a video montage of Bruce being Brucie and it’s so utterly humiliating? But he won’t delete it because all of the comments say he’s their favorite billionaire and that’s more than his own kids will say.

- Random Pride Month post. Every year it catches people by surprise and every gossip magazine always wonders if Bruce is coming out. He’s just being an ally (and potentially is in denial).

Alfred:

- Prefers not to use social media, but one of the boys filmed him doing random things to teach the internet how to do things properly, like making the bed, doing laundry, etc. Is the internet’s favorite grandpa.

[zweiginator]

Patrick’s tiny little shorts in that one scene… imagining meeting him a few times in the colder months so he had been wearing baggy sweatpants and crew necks. You know he’s hot, but when it breaks 80° outside and he shows up to a shared class you have with him in tiny little shorts since he has practice right after you can’t help but stare at his thighs and his happy trail when he stretches an hour into lecture.

Him seeing you blush when he makes eye contact with you and he invites you to his match at the end of the week. You say you’re busy but you show up during the end. You’re there long enough to see him wipe the floor with his opponent, his white tee soaked in sweat, curls plastered to his forehead.

You congratulate him softly and he takes you to a quieter place under the guise of needing some water. He opens the closet door behind the both of you and pulls you inside. He sits on a storage box full of athletic tape; you try not to notice how his teeny tiny shorts have ridden up and you can see his stark tan lines from the first few weeks of spring.

You can see how he’s growing hard from you looking at him like that. It’s silent, but not awkward.

He pulls you onto his lap and you’re the one to kiss him first, grabbing onto his hair. You’re taken aback at how he whimpers into your mouth. He grabs onto your hips and grinds you against his erection. His shirt is soaked but he peels it off anyway.

He thinks he has died and gone to heaven when you kiss down his abs and suck his dick in the dingy closet by the tennis courts. His adam’s apple bobs as his head rolls back, his moans loud and unabashed.

When he’s about to cum his breath hitches and his knuckles are white from gripping the sides of the box he’s sitting on. You stop.

“What are you doing?” He complains, swiping his thumb against your bottom lip.

“I’ll make you cum if you make me cum first.”

“Okay-“ Patrick moves to kiss you.

“Not right now.” You look around at the room you’re in; it smells like sweat and mold. “Maybe next week? You have a match then right?”

A week later he beats the country’s top D1 tennis player with ease and takes you out for drinks after.

“You know nobody has ever done it right?” You say.

He knows what you’re referencing. He shrugs. “I’ll give it a try.” He doesn’t sound worried.

He eats you out in the bar bathroom, sucking on your clit and looking up at you through dark eyelashes, his strong arms holding your legs apart as they shake. He makes you cum in three and a half minutes, and has to cover your mouth.

[pshbites]

enhypen as pro athletes

genre ⇢ reactions, imagines, wtv u wanna call it

wc ⇢ 200 ish per member ? idk

warning(s) ⇢ profanity, loll smth else?

taglist ⇢ @wensurr @nshmurarki @blvengene @sirens-dreams @mimismenu

a/n : erm i should be studying for my chem exam but that can wait 🙈

if you liked this please be sure to reblog and like this! feedback is always apreciated <3 and join my perma taglist here

HEESEUNG… basketball player

- major troy bolton vibes

- he’s got tunes AND hoops

- god forbid you’re at a park and he sees a court

- “this one’s for you baby!!” *misses*

- all jokes aside he has that nba player aura to him

- DEFFF a d1 college athlete who then went pro

- always blowing a kiss to you in the crowd

- TROOOOYYYYYYYYYY

- he would try teaching you how to play but then get frustrated because he’s so passionate

- he’s just good at basketball and he can sing that’s what he brings the table that’s all he got!!!!

JAY… f1 driver

- lol did i give my bias my fav sport… MAYBEEE

- lewis hamilton and max verstappens love child

- oh and he’s a red bull driver

- fashion ICON. always pulling up in the paddock best dressed

- serves cunt on the streets

- he would be a menace whenever you two go go karting.. leaving you in the dust i fear

- you’ll never catch him below p5

- those sassy radios

- you’ll always catch him being snarky on the grid and off the grid

- akshully, he would tweet like lewis in 2014

- “he’s sitting in the middle of the road doing nothing”

- always blowing a kiss to you when he’s on the podium

- the alchemy by ts “where’s the trophy and he just comes running over to me”

- oh he’s looking for you the second he’s out of that car

- he would single handedly bring back red bull dominance

- picturing jay in a red bull uniform.. it’s heavenly.

- sigh i need someone to write f1driver!jay

JAKE… soccer player

- this was a given

- HE PLAYS FOR REAL MADRID NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

- him & that team would get along tooooooo well

- constantly posting q&a on instagram

- this un media trained king

- always mentions you no matter what

- “how are you feeling for the next match?” “great.. so my gf-“

- first thing he’s doing after winning is pulling out his phone and filming

- “LIVE REACTION TO THE WINNING GOAL” and it’s a 25 sec clip of him and güler running around the field.

- his insta story is such a struggle to get thru bc it’s either clips of him and the team on the private jet or a ton of random ass q&as

- “what’s your plan for the next season?” “idrk but today i had waffles for breakfast 😍”

- his interviews are always the most entertaining bc he just says anything

SUNGHOON… hockey player

- this is because i can’t just do a freebie and give him ice skater 😞

- BUT HE DID PLAY FOR THE HOCKEY TEAM WHEN HE WAS LITTLE!!

- he’s not like the other hockey men tho, not overly aggressive

- he’s actually calm when he isn’t annoyed about losing

- one thing about him, he will drag it through the mud if he gets in the penalty box

- kicking ice and everything 😭

- lowk i see him as the teammate who isn’t very public with his personal life

- only time people see him smiling with 50 teeth is when he’s with u

- thinks of his job as more of a hobby

- “so what interested you in ice hockey!” “i was bored…”

- deffo plays for the national team

- just the most nonchalant person there

SUNOO… tennis player

- now hear me out

- blonde sunoo = art donaldson

- LIKE WOAHHHH!!!

- once again on the national team FOR SURE

- does not play when it comes to tennis (idk anything abt tennis 🤣)

- WILL huff and puff if it’s out

- SO sassy

- like side eye when they’re sipping water and changing rackets

- cannot play duos for the life of him

- but he’s GOOD

- nicest person ever out of the field tho

- interviewers love him because he knows how to appeal to fans

- cannot be mysterious for the life of him

- his insta posts are either him or pics of you AND him

- he actually hard launched you on his insta

JUNGWON… swimmer

- i mean,,, have u seen that body???

- the way he dances helps out a lot because he’s very flexible

- oh he’s for sure on the national AND olympic team

- i know a body of water hate to see him coming

- you two could be at the beach and suddenly he’s doing all this fancy shit

- likes to brag about how long he can hold his breath underwater

- like a child “look look! 30 seconds” like yes baby you go!!!

- his personality switches when he has a swim meet though

- literally rbf EVERYWHEREEEE

- the second he’s out of the water tho he’s back to normal

- unfortunately he isn’t a pr nightmare

- too media trained for his own good

RIKI… baseball player

- he’s gonna be eating that dodger dawg 25/8

- idk anything abt baseball so bear with me

- bro is locked in for every single game

- and you alr know he’s in the mlb (america RAHHHH)

- i think he’d play for the yankees

- riki belongs in nyc we know this

- a pr NIGHTMARE.

- his managers hate to see him coming bc he’s just doing anything

- “what do you think you could’ve improved in the last game?” “nothing i’m amazing shut up”

- he doesn’t take anyone’s bs

- not even his own teammates r safe from him

- his social media is full of goofy ass posts or posts that you collaborated with him on insta but it’s only aesthetic bc it’s from your page

- lowk i think he would occasionally posts those pics like he does on weverse like just insane amt of aura in one pic

- probably has a streaming account in this universe too

- “can we hurry this session up i have to stream at 7 😑”

- part time mlb player, full time twitch streamer actually

[sintiva]

just some d1 athlete!reiner thoughts…….

i’m thinking about submissive athlete!reiner!!. d1 athlete reiner who grows flustered at the sight of his girlfriend every time he sees them on campus. the same guy who trucks his body into the opposing team’s member, knocking ‘em out - cold. the same guy who fucks you so hard and holds your body down while he’s slamming, swinging and rocking his hips into yours. the same one who wraps his hand around your mouth cause you’re too loud when he’s fucking you in any school bathroom. he’s the same one that makes you spread those thick thighs and hold your ankles when he’s fucking that pretty pussy with deep strokes and fixing his chain around his neck. but he gets overstimulated very easily! when you stand on your tippy toes and place kisses on his neck, leavimg behind a sticky and gooey print of lip liner and gloss. your favorite thing to do — that just gets under his skin, and has his dick twitching, leaking and throbbing in his jeans — is send him nudes. or better yet, a personal video. he adores it when he clicks the blurred, sparkly attachment and is blessed with two long acrylics that aid you in splitting those fat pussy lips. it should be him spreading those folds and spitting on your clit, and rubbing that sensitive nerve till you cum on his tongue. he continues to watch as your middle finger runs between em, collecting all the slick you fucked out of yourself. your thighs tremble and you smack your pussy, plat, plat. the audio is a sensual mix of your moans and the sticky arousal that he could practically taste. he licks his lips; swearing up and down that all that should be in his mouth. he’s mentally cursing, watching on as this little video of yours veers him further and further away from his lecture — it doesn’t help that the tip of his ears beam reds, made all the more noticeable but the double industrial piercings he has. the professor notices and when he goes to call on reiner, your voice flutters like a pretty butterfly right into his ear,,, mmmm reiner, wish you were here, fucking this pussy good. he’s an athlete that’s been trained to push past his limits and never give into temptation. but it just so happens that temptation is right on his phone, in his room under his duvet set, and playing with his pussy, cause you decided to skip class and fuck with him. who’s now unaware of the professor that stomps toward him, because he’s stuck on repeating the last 4 seconds of you moaning for him…

[heywardsdoll]

going ice skating and just seeing toxickook!pope is the worst decision you could ever make because of how wonderful he is at it. there's just a flow of intimidation with him, the way he skilfully glides across the ice. he cocks an eyebrow at you, before slandering off to talk to another guy. he's like a star the way he shines.

he’s good at everything—and that hurts more than you’ll ever admit.

it doesn’t help that he’s a D1 athlete at your college, a kook with everything handed to him—like the world bends to his will. it doesn’t help that he’s an honor student, top of the class, always knowing the right answers. it also doesn’t help the way he looks, all wrapped up in a scarf, his family’s wealth showing even in his casual clothes. that air of privilege—it practically suffocates you. and it definitely doesn’t help that he makes you look twice, that twist in your stomach reminding you how much control he has over you.

of course, he didn’t want you here. after all, he's dating you in secret. because dating you openly wouldn’t fit his “image.” no, now he’d probably tease you about it, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. but only you know what he's like behind closed doors, behind locker rooms, when no one’s watching he's got his hand shoved down your skirt, heavy lidded eyes glazed with pleasure. of course, he's got you in the restricted section of the books, low voice and soft breath hitting that corner of your neck, and of course he's your "tutor". god, it was the worst.

you’d never tell your friends, because god forbid they knew how much of a sucker you were for someone like him. you knew better—knew what the kooks were like—but he was different, right? you liked the way he acted—that air of confidence, even if it sometimes felt like arrogance. even if it meant enduring his offhand comments. he’d laugh them off, call you “too sensitive,” like it was all in good fun.

but then he'd be so sweet. that’s what kept you, wasn’t it? sugary sweet between your teeth when he apologized, "i won’t do it again," "you know me, you know i won’t," "aw—you know i could do better, but i choose you. i’m doing you a favor staying." and now here you were, trying to prove you could do without him, even though you were practically near tears as you pushed through the ice.

it was tough. your ankles wobbled from trying to find balance within yourself. your hands stung from the number of times you'd fallen flat on your face. your cheeks burned from the cold, and worse, there was this awful gash on your knee from scraping it on the way to the ice rink. you looked like a mess, but why did you care? because somewhere, you knew he was watching.

this was your fault. it was a small fight that led to this. you wanted to be public—wanted him to stop hiding you. after months of stolen kisses and eager eyes, you were tired of being his secret. but now you felt like a dirty little secret, something he didn’t want to show off. he laughed when you asked for more. said it was all fun and games, and you were reading too much into it.

you could almost hear the satisfaction in his voice when he said, “just a little experiment.” his soft eyes had a flicker of something sharper, and you realized they only softened when he wanted something. his words dripped with an undertone that made you question if you were overreacting.

you had told him to forget it. after that, you went home to cry your eyes out and realized you needed to show him that you didn’t need him. then a university flyer caught your eye. “bring a friend and skate!” it read. “free entry for single girls,” with a winky face. you could tell a college boy had scribbled that on, but somehow, it lit something in you.

that was it. that’s why you were scrambling on the ice, looking for someone, and indirectly looking for him with your untied laces, swollen eyes, and a pout on your mouth. finally, you stopped, resting your hands on your knees as you panted. still, pope skated. there was a quick smile on his face, hands shoved in his pockets. he danced around girls, that smirk on his face as if he knew you were watching.

finally, you decided it was enough. it was enough of you chasing after him, and this stupid idea to come to the rink. it was time you stepped out. as you fixed your laces, you let out a deep breath, but in an instant, your balance vanished. your arms shot up, flailing wildly as if they could grasp the air for stability. time seemed to slow as your legs slipped out from under you. then, with a loud thud, you hit the ground, the cold ice pressing against your back. you let out a cry of pain before trying to look around to see if anyone had seen you.

“you’re not too good at this, huh?”

there he was, all shiny and cocky. you scoffed and tried to push forward, only to slip again.

“goddamn it—” you groaned before letting yourself sink to the floor. the ice burned at your side, but it wasn’t as bad as the embarrassment that heated your face when you realized pope was watching, that familiar flicker of amusement in his eyes.

after what felt like years, he spoke, flicking away something on his jersey. “what are you doing here?”

you felt tears sting your eyes as you sniffled and bit your lip, looking away from him. your voice sounded like a whine. “it’s my campus too.”

pope rubbed his eyes before looking at you again, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. “come on, you know I’m not gonna just leave you here.” suddenly, he was grabbing you and pulling you up. you were rested next to the edge of the rink. no longer did the ice bite, but rather you felt your heart beat faster. he was tying your skates quickly, tongue stuck out in concentration. you watched his muscles move purposefully, the way his arms flexed as he worked.

“you know how if feel about you,” pope murmured, a softer edge to his voice. you shivered hearing the annoyance there, but it quickly shifted into a teasing lilt. “do i really have to prove it?”

you felt shocked, pupils blown as you tried not to tremble. there was electricity in his gaze, but something rippled inside you. it was definitely not fear.

finally, pope got up, giving you a satisfied once-over. “yeah, you look good now.”

it was here you felt defensive. “i look good all the time!” but quickly realized it was the wrong thing to say.

pope's eyes flickered over to you again, a teasing smile on his lips. “yeah, cause i help you with that. sometimes you need a little more than usual. but that’s okay.” it was here that he seemed to soften, that hint of smugness in his demeanor, but you could tell he enjoyed the control.

“yea' cause i'm here to see to it.”

and you knew you’d never fully escape from his orbit.

taglist; @cerya @rainbowpiss34, @vi4goswrld, @th3eternalersi

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 8

A/N: So glad to be back and writing again. Thanks to every single wonderful one of you who checked on me and sent me well wishes! You all know who you are and I appreciate you all so much!

This is quite the chapter 😈Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Three sets of workout gear for the week, one for each day of the tryout. Two extra t-shirts. One good pair of jeans. Three outfits for nights out, most likely with her fellow recruits. Deodorant. Makeup bag. Skincare products. Certain that she had everything, she zipped her carry-on luggage closed. She checked her watch. 6.30am. Her Uber would be arriving any moment from now to drive her to the airport.

“Babe?”

The sound of Andre’s voice turned Delilah’s head towards the bedroom door, where he stood holding something in his hands.

“You forgot somethin',” he whispered, a hint of mirth struggling with the sadness in his voice as he held out what looked like a denim jacket. And not just any denim jacket. It was her favorite one, with the back embroidered with the words “Dee & Dre Forever”. She’d had that jacket since she was a teenager and had worn it through many milestones in her life so far; her high school graduation, her first job, Andre’s proposal. Despite her annoyance with him, she allowed herself to smile as she went to take it from him. “Thanks,” she murmured.

For a moment, the couple stood there, regarding each other silently. Then, he extended his hand to her, which she took, letting him pull her in for a big hug. Her heart began to thaw as his arms tightened around her waist, his face nuzzling her neck before lifting to press his lips to hers. Her blood still simmered because he was making her take this trip alone, but he seemed to be trying. Plus, she couldn’t resist responding to his sweet kisses, and she found herself missing him already.

The buzz of her phone broke their embrace, as well as the honk of a car horn blaring through the quiet of the morning. “I gotta go. My Uber’s here,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly misty at the thought of leaving him alone for an entire week, the longest they’d ever been apart.

With his arm around her shoulders, Andre escorted her through the front door and helped her stow her luggage in the trunk. He kissed her one more time. “I love you, baby. Good luck out there,” he said.

“Thanks.”

---------------

Four days later

The final day of tryouts arrived with a bittersweet feeling as Delilah joined the assembly of her fellow recruits around the ring. It was almost eight in the morning and they should have gotten started by now, but she appreciated the little break in transmission. 

She thought Tank was a tough trainer, but he was a teddy bear compared to the coaches of the world-renowned Performance Center. Their drills were brutal and the promo classes were intense. She was sore and strained, but she could honestly say she had never felt stronger. She was hanging with D1 athletes and former pros, ranking among the top ten women in all the combines. Her promo skills needed some more work but she was in the perfect place to improve. She was getting encouragement from people who were experts at spotting talent, and she was eating up all their advice with a spoon.

The head coach, Matt Bloom, clapped his hands and called for everyone to settle down before making his announcement. “So guys, for our last day, we got a special guest coach who will be overseeing your progress today.” He paused to absorb the curious chatter among the recruits. “Without wasting any time, please join me in welcoming one half of the greatest tag team in WWE history, Main Event Jey Uso!”

Goosebumps sprouted on Delilah’s arms before Coach Bloom even finished saying his name. Sure enough, there he was, strutting through the door to the recruits’ rapturous applause. They had talked just yesterday and not once did he mention that he was coming. The star power oozed from him even from across the room. He was dressed for a workout, showing off that fabulous body of his, and Delilah couldn’t help but stare. She wasn’t the only one, as she could hear a number of the girls fawning over him, stirring an emotion inside her that had no business being stirred. 

The recruits stood on the apron surrounding the ring, watching him demonstrate the perfect Samoan drop. He looked good. Really good. Throughout, she kept her distance, not wanting to rouse any suspicions. He stayed out of reach too, but that didn’t stop the electricity from crackling when he was near her, or the jealousy that simmered inside her when females flirted with him, a few of them laying their desperation on thick with their flirty gestures and hushed, lewd comments about getting him in their beds. To Josh’s credit, he seemed unfazed by it all and Delilah wanted to believe his aloofness had something to do with her. No matter what those bitches tried, none of them had any chance with her m–…him.

At the end of the tryout, the prospects got to mingle with Josh and all the other trainers for one last time. Delilah remained at arm’s length as she watched him work the room, keeping her cool when he finally made his way over to her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she smiled, elbowing him in the ribs and making him chuckle.

“Wanted to surprise you. You ain’t miss me too much, did you?” he joked, his eyes drifting down her body for a split second before meeting hers again. A blush crept up Delilah’s neck. 

“Consider me surprised. But I’m glad you came,” she said sincerely.

“Me too. You killed it out there, girl. All your hard work is payin’ off.”

“I know. It’s been a dream and then some,” Delilah sighed happily, looking around in awe at the place that had been her classroom for the last three days. “I still can’t believe I’m here, this is so surreal,” she gushed.

Josh laughed at her dreamy expression. “Aw, you so cute. Tell you what, how about dinner with me tonight,” he offered.

Delilah’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“I ain’t stutter,” he smiled. “You’ve had a long week. You should celebrate in style. Come kick it with ya boy.”

Wow. Was he seriously asking her out? Was that what this was? “There’s a party tonight for all the recruits and we’re all gonna be there. Won’t it look weird if I’m not there?” she asked, acutely aware that it sounded like an excuse.

“You can stay at your party for a bit and then come to me,” Josh replied smoothly. “The hotel I’m staying at got a great steakhouse. You’ll love it. I’ll get you a ride for eight-thirty. Sound good?” 

The confident tone of his voice left no room for any protest. Not that she was going to. The lure of free fancy food and his company was too great. “Okay. Eight-thirty it is,” she answered.

---------------

The atmosphere inside the hookah lounge was great. Everyone was in a mellow and good mood. Laughter and drinks were plentiful as the recruits let loose and enjoyed the night. Delilah was on cloud nine. This was the kind of camaraderie she had imagined when she first embarked on this wild dream of hers, to bond with elite competitors and become friends over a shared dream they all hoped would come true. 

But she looked forward to seeing Josh too, and she was counting down the seconds to eight-thirty. Her heart leapt when his text came in informing her that a car was outside waiting for her. Sneaking away was quite easy and as she slipped inside the Chevy Suburban to head to his hotel, a million thoughts ran through her head as to what else was in store tonight. 

Josh was waiting in the lobby for her, his eyes lighting up when they landed on her. Delilah forced herself to close her mouth as quickly as it dropped. Words couldn't quite describe how delicious he looked.

Dressed in all black, his tattoos glistening on his skin and the jeweled gold Cuban link glittering under the collar of his short-sleeved dress shirt. He wore a devastating smile while clutching a bouquet of red roses in his hands. That visual alone made her glad that she'd chosen to wear a bodysuit instead of a dress.

“You look beautiful, baby girl. These are for you,” he murmured before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

Delilah blushed, holding the bouquet to her bosom as she inhaled their scent. She let him take her smaller hand in his and led her into the fancy restaurant. The maitre’d was waiting for them already, ushering the pair to a private corner table. The little lanterns above were soothing and illuminated the elegant space. After Josh helped Delilah into her seat and took his place next to her, the waiter handed them their menus and left to give them some privacy. 

“This place is really nice. I get why you wanted us to come here,” Delilah smiled at Josh. 

“Only the best for you, baby girl. Order whatever you want,” he told her simply.

The food was delicious - steak for him, lobster for her - and conversation was fun. There was always such an easy, natural flow between them, and as the night wore on they seemed to grow closer, their laughter softer and their gazes more intent and intimate. They sat side by side, with their shoulders pressed close together. She was soon leaning into him, feeling nice and warm from a mix of Daiquiri and white wine and his bigger muscular body warming hers. It wasn’t the wisest move on her part, but she felt so cozy just being in his presence and she was genuinely enjoying his attention.

It had been a while since she did something like this with Andre.

“I’m lookin’ for a new place in P-cola,” Josh informed her as he took a sip of his champagne. “You said your man’s a landscaper, right?” 

With her dessert fork, Delilah cut up a piece of her red velvet ganache cake slice. “Yeah.”

Josh felt his body flush with desire as he watched her slide the cake into her mouth, licking the fork with long leisurely swipes of her tongue as she relished every delicious crumb. Clearing his throat, he soldiered on. “A’ight, cool. I might hit him up to do some stuff for me.”

Delilah scoffed and took another bite. “Yeah, let’s not do that.”

“Why? What’s the problem? You don’t want him to find out about us or somethin’?” he joked. Or at least he hoped it sounded like one.

She rolled her eyes. “Um, what ‘us’? I’m engaged and you’re married. Remember?”

“Separated,” Josh corrected.

“Right. Not divorced. Big difference.”

“So if I was divorced, would things be different?” Josh inquired.

“With who?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “With you and me, duh.”

There he went again. ‘Us’. ‘You and me’. Why did she feel like she was being put on the spot? More importantly, why did she feel guilty for not giving him the answers he wanted? Putting her fork down, her shrug was shy and half-hearted. “I dunno,” she mumbled.

Josh kissed his teeth with a wry smile. “Damn. Way to break a man’s heart, baby girl.”

Delilah shook her head and sipped her drink. “You been sayin’ some wild shit lately.”

“Maybe. But in my defense, I can’t help myself around you sometimes,” he said in a voice so husky that she had to turn her head to face him. His arm had circled her shoulders, bringing her just a little closer to him. The weight of his stare was crushing, and she tried to focus on something else, struggling to steer away from the path she’d thought she could manage venturing down.

“Gee, this is some good cake,” she breathed and picked up the plate of cake a little too aggressively, cursing to herself when some frosting smeared her index finger.

“Let me get that.” Josh reached out to capture her wrist, bringing her finger to his mouth and sucking off the frosting slowly, teasing her, testing her willpower. She sat still, wide eyes locking with his own hypnotic and mesmerizing irises, the color of hot coffee on a cold winter's day. He was such a beautiful man, so sexy that she felt paralyzed, her heart thrumming with a familiar warmth that rushed down south to make her slick between her thighs. The restaurant seemed to shrink around them in the minutes that they stared at each other, that simmering tension finally boiling over to the point of no return.

Josh released her hand to caress her cheek, his tongue snaking out to moisten his lips as he stared her down with a bone-melting intensity.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, dipping his head and brushing his lips over her own.

It was as if an unstoppable force collided with an immovable object when their mouths met. The first taste of each other only served to heighten the suffocating lust between them. Her fingers raked through his short hair, a low moan escaping her throat when their tongues tangled, her heart thumping rapidly from his sweet taste. This kiss awakened her body in ways only one other man in her lifetime had, burning her from the inside out, burning away all memories of him and leaving her famished for someone else. 

Without breaking the kiss, Josh wrapped his arms around Delilah’s waist and pulled her on top of him. Instantly, she felt his dick, hard and persistent, through his pants and it rubbed against the thin material of her romper, right on her clit. His erection felt big and she instinctively rolled her ass on it, making them both moan. Her lithe, smooth body grinded intimately against his, driving their arousal up another notch. The temperature ratcheted up by several degrees as he gripped her backside in his big hands and moved her back and forth on him, making her ride him like they were naked. In an even bolder move, his fingers weaved under the hem of her bodysuit, spreading her ass cheeks open to tease her pussy from behind.

The feel of his fingertips grazing her entrance snapped Delilah out of her trance, and she jumped as if she’d been burned. She pulled away abruptly and clambered off him, breathing hard like she’d just run a marathon.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry I can’t,” she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. “I have to go.” Without another word, she snatched her purse and rushed away from their table and out the door. Josh watched her flee, bewildered by her reaction.

-----------------

Ooooh. Thoughts?

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

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[bordysbae]

👋👋fantilli!sister x luke hughes w 10. “i am not getting in that car with you, are you crazy?”11. “do you ever stop complaining?” “you ever think that if you stopped being an idiot i wouldn’t need to complain?”12. “why do you hate me?” “you think i hate you?”

“frenemies”

luke hughes x fantilli!sister

living in both of your brother’s shadows is basically the role you’ve had throughout all of your life. being adam’s twin sister just makes things even worse. if adam needs to move away for hockey, you have to come with. your parents can’t dare to send their superstar away without following him.

luca commited to michigan first, but when you and adam both committed, you knew your life was basically over. all the attention would be on the d1 athletes rather than the regular college student, and you were right. but when you met luke hughes, your whole life flipped. the 19 year old boy immediately caught your eye, and he gives you the most attention out of all of your brothers teammates. the only problem is that he teases you non stop, and not in a flirty way.

—

as you’re walking through the dorm hallway headed towards your brothers shared dorm, you notice the tall curly haired boy walking towards you. “ah if it isn’t adam and luca fantilli’s shadow!” he teases. you just roll your eyes at the boy and your feet come to a slow stop. “nice to see you too, jack and quinn’s shadow,” you sarcastically grin.

“party tonight, you coming?” he asks, pulling out his phone to look at his notifications instead of looking at you as you speak. “uhh, i guess so,” you shrug.

“alright sick! see you later then, adam’s twin!” he winks before walking off. the annoyed scoff that leaves your mouth contradicts how that wink effected you. your heart rate increases and your cheeks run hot. you walk towards the door of adam and luca’s dorm, and you don’t even knock before pushing it wide open and storming in.

“y/n what if we were naked!” adam shrieks, but you just let out a loud huff before jumping on his bed and burying your face in his pillows. he sends luca a concerned look, and moves one of the pillows so he can see you. “are you okay y/n?” adam asks and luca walks over to the bed as well. “what’s wrong?” luca asks, but you just groan.

you know you can’t tell them that you like their teammate, so you come up with a half lie.

“just luke being luke,” you roll your eyes before sitting up on the bed. you rest your back against the wall; now facing towards the boys who are standing next to the bed. they give you a pitiful smile, since they know luke can be a little harsh on the teasing comments. “we’re sorry about him y/n. do you want us to talk to him?” adam asks.

“no! that’ll just make it worse! but anyways, are you guys coming to the party tonight?”

“nah, we both have a lot of homework to do,” luca chimes in. you let out a little chuckle before mumbling, “yeah welcome to my world.”

“what’d you say?” luca asks, but you just shake it off and he doesn’t ask again. “alright well, i just came here to grab a hoodie so i’ll get outta your hair,” you exclaim before hopping off of adam’s bed and trotting towards their closet. “where are you going that you need a hoodie?” adam asks. “i’m going to the grocery store. need anything?” you ask, as you pull one of adam’s team canada hoodies over your head. “can we come?” adam and luca excitedly ask, and you let out a chuckle with a nod.

as you’re walking down the isles grabbing snacks for your dorm, you notice a familiar face walking towards you once again. “luke,” you blatantly state. he gives you a devilish grin before leaning down to reach your ear, “cant even go shopping on your own? you really are their shadow,” he chuckles.

“yeah whatever luke,” you scoff as you walk towards the register, with adam and luca trailing behind. you look back at luke and he just gives you a smile. a smile that should not be effecting you like this. your cheeks run hot and you immediately turn your head away.

—

you and your roommate make the walk to the frat, and immediately a strong smell of alcohol sends your senses into alert as you step inside. before you even realize it, you’re four shots in and now drinking a mix of god knows what.

“y/n, are you okay?” a familiar male voice asks from behind you. you turn around and see luke with a concerned look on his face. “whatttt i’m fine hughesy!” you shout, very clearly drunk.

“uh yeah, okay. i’m getting you an uber and taking you to your dorm, are you here with anyone?” he asks, holding your body upright to prevent you from falling.

“ummm my roommate, but i think she went upstairs with one of the frat bros, so she’ll be fine. but lukey, i don’t wanna leave!” you say, and immediately luke’s cheeks heat up at your new nickname for him. “yeah no, you’re going back to your dorm. i already called an uber, cmon,” he states as he takes you outside.

you both sit on the steps as you wait for the uber to arrive, and when it does you immediately realize what’s going on. luke slides into the backseat before you, and you gasp, “i’m not getting into the car with you! are you crazy?!”

“jesus y/n, do you ever stop complaining?” luke scoffs as he practically drags your drunk-self into the car. “maybe if you stopped being such an idiot i wouldn’t have to complain!” you roll your eyes as you struggle to buckle the seatbelt. luke’s hand pushes yours away before he helps you buckle in.

most of the ride is quiet, but when the uber gets stopped in traffic you’re basically forced to talk to luke. you’re drunk, so the first words that come out are ones you’ve been deathly afraid to ask. “why do you hate me, luke?”

his head turns from the window to look at you, “you think i hate you?”

“well yeah, why else would you be so rude to me! sure as hell isn’t flirting.”

“i mean yeah i’m not trying to flirt with you.. but i do like you, y/n. that’s why i’m rude to you. it’s because i cant let you like me back, your brothers would actually kill me! they made you a boundary for the team, but i can’t help liking you. you’re pretty, you’re sweet, and you don’t even hate me after all the shit i’ve done to you,” luke rambles.

“how do you know i don’t hate you?” you tease. “because your cheeks wouldn’t be as pink as they are,” luke smirks and you immediately get embarrassed and hide your face. luke lets out a little chuckle, and suddenly his lips find their way on yours, and they practically melt together. your heart is beating out of your chest but even if your brothers are mad, at least you got what you’ve been dying for.

a kiss from luke hughes, and an answer as to why he teases you so much.

—

little self promo but go check out my 500 celly and feel free to request something! <3

[augustjustice]

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

Part 3 | AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ew,” he intoned flatly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because the look on his face? 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie laid a hand over his heart, sincere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he could pull this off after all. 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had no idea how to feel about that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve scoffed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve, apparently, was immune. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, it is so on!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…In more ways than one. 

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

And Eddie was probably a very, very sick man. 

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

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

…But, then again, so was this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m onto you, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That I do.” Eddie gave Lucas a nod. “Go on ahead, Sinclair. We’ll be right behind you.”

While Lucas hesitantly led the way, Steve sent Eddie a feeble smile, his teeth still gritted in pain as he leaned into him heavily. “...Thanks.”

Guilt raged inside him, both at the simple fact that Steve was now having to deal with his body’s bullshit, and that he hadn’t thought to tell him to be on the lookout for the warning signs that things were about to go sideways. 

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Then he added in a low undertone. “Least I can do…especially since it’s my fault in the first place.” 

“Come on, dude, don’t do that,” Steve chided automatically. Shooting a look in Lucas’s direction, his next words came out hushed. “...But we’re totally gonna talk about the fact that you’ve been hiding this from all of us later.” 

“‘Hiding’ is such a strong word.”

Steve’s expression went completely deadpan.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. Like you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing if you were in my shoes? No way, man. I know you too damn well for that, Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m in them now.” He inclined his head towards where he was slowly shuffling Eddie’s Reeboks over the blacktop. “And from where I’m standing, I feel pretty confident saying you definitely should have told us.”

“Funny, that didn’t exactly sound like a denial of your own tendency towards knightly stoicism, good sir.” 

“In English, please, Eds. You can’t seriously expect me to translate your nerdy talk when my side hurts like hell.”

Eddie winced, the guilt back in full force. “Shit, sorry. What I’m saying is…nowhere in there did I hear you say you’d tell me, or Robin, or the kids if you got in a bad way. In fact, all evidence points to the contrary.”

“...That’s not the point.” 

“Kinda is, sweetheart.”

The endearment was one Eddie usually reserved for when he was feeling bold enough to indulge in a little playful flirtation, but in that moment it had just sort of…slipped out. 

Steve didn’t seem to mind it, though, given he didn’t so much as stiffen, instead staying firmly burrowed into Eddie’s side. Then again, the pain was probably acting as a powerful distraction. 

Once they finally made their way to the bleachers and back within earshot of the kids, Steve murmured, “We’re so not done with this.” A promise and a threat, all rolled up into one.

“Rest now, man. There’ll be plenty of time to scold me later.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Steve did as instructed. He winced while Eddie helped ease him down into a sitting position, and Eddie couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath alongside him, as if the pang had shot through them both. 

“What happened?” Erica demanded. She was standing up fully in the bleachers now, the annoyance radiating off of her betraying just how worried she really was. 

“A taste of karma, probably,” Eddie joked, trying to inject a bit of levity into the tenseness that had settled all around them. “After years of badmouthing, isn’t it only natural basketball would turn the tables and try to eliminate him, finally seek its long-awaited revenge?” 

Lucas and Steve both sent him wide-eyed looks, a mixture of horror and guilt on their faces, but Erica only snorted. 

“See? She thought it was funny.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s a psycho,” Lucas accused glibly. Erica stuck out her tongue in reply, the pair of them momentarily diverted, just like he’d hoped they would be. 

“It’s not a big deal. I just–went a little too hard, too fast. That’s all,” Steve assured them, before adding pointedly, “After everything, it’s pretty clear I’ve still got some healing to do. Which…duh. Plus it wouldn’t, like, kill me to take it a little easier on myself.”

Lucas cringed in sympathy nonetheless. “Sorry your first game didn’t exactly go like we planned.”

Eddie was intimately familiar with Steve’s blank, hiding-the-pain expression, so he recognized it easily on his own face. Still, Steve managed to muster up a stiff smile for the kid. 

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Sinclair. Chin up. Comes with the territory, right? It’s not like it was your fault…or anybody’s, really.” His eyes deliberately darted to meet Eddie’s. “It’s just…one of those things, you know?”

“Does this mean you’re not gonna wanna play with us anymore?” The words came out of Lucas in a rush, his eyes flitting guiltily between Steve and Eddie, then back again. 

In spite of Steve’s reassurances, it was clear he was still trying to shoulder some of the burden. Alongside that, though, Eddie thought he heard just a touch of disappointment. 

Steve turned to gaze up at Eddie, chewing on his bottom lip. He could see that same sense of hesitancy reflected in wide brown eyes. 

“Aww, you can’t run out on us now, Eds. You promised you were trying to turn over a new leaf here,” Eddie wheedled, batting his eyelashes. 

It was a move straight out of the “Harrington Charm” handbook, one Steve had jokingly pulled plenty of times before, whenever he wanted to twist Eddie’s arm on something. 

(And so what if Eddie caved to it basically each and every time? He was only human.) 

“Once you’re back at full fighting shape…you gotta come back. Right? After all, can’t let all those hidden talents go to waste, now can we?”

Matching expressions of giddy relief bloomed over both Lucas and Steve’s faces, bright enough to warm even the deepest cockles of Eddie’s once sports-hating heart. 

“Of course I can’t,” Steve snapped a finger in Lucas’s direction. “So you better keep up the practice, Sinclair. I want you in tip-top shape for our rematch.”

Lucas nodded eagerly. “You got it!”

In the past couple of hours, Steve had probably done more to convince Lucas of Eddie’s sincerity when it came to that future apology than he had managed on his own in months. For that, he’d be eternally grateful.

“Can’t believe the two of you managed to turn Eddie Munson of all people into a sports fan,” Erica said drily, though Eddie caught the knowing twinkle in her eye. 

“I mean, it was only a matter of time before I turned to the, uh,” Steve’s brow wrinkled briefly before his face lit up, finally landing on the reference he was searching for, “the light side of the force.”

Star Wars, that was the one area of nerd culture where he could–usually–be counted on. 

“Think that near fall might have rattled you more than we thought,” Eddie ribbed good-naturedly. “Next thing you know, you’ll be denouncing your life of delinquency and D&D and joining up with one of those sports club thingies down at the YMCA.” 

Steve’s grin was wicked. “Hey, I already know I look good in these shorts. Maybe I could pull off a jersey, too.”

Eddie flushed as Steve’s fingers pinched the edge of said tiny basketball shorts, skirting so close to dark leg hair and pale skin he could almost feel it, like the phantom of a touch. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just hurry up and get you home, basketball star.”

With a nod, Steve sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing while he prepared to stand. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold your horses there, Munson.” Eddie dropped a hand on each of his shoulders, effectively pinning him in place. He gave Steve a quick, assessing look. 

Then he nodded once, resolved. 

“What?” Steve asked, glancing around himself in confusion. “What is it? Knock it off, dude, you’re starting to freak me o–” 

Unceremoniously, Eddie scooped him up and into his arms. 

Steve let out a yelp in protest as he rose into the air, arms coming up to wrap instinctively around Eddie’s neck and cling onto him tightly. “Oh my God, oh my God! If you drop me, man, I swear to God–”

Careful of Steve’s now sensitive side, Eddie gave his arms a subtle flex, “With these muscles? Fat chance, dude. Besides, you’re precious cargo. I swear not to harm so much as a single shaggy hair on your head.” 

Up close, the redness on the tips of his ears really was something. Eddie would have to remember that for later, make sure to drag his wild mane over more than just his face whenever he got embarrassed. 

Lucas groaned, faking a gag. “Seriously, guys? Not in front of the children.” 

Beside him, however, Erica looked positively gleeful. 

It was Eddie’s turn to feel that tell-tale flame of heat creeping over his face, for being quite that obvious. At least the eldest Sinclair was just playing it off as more of the ‘Mom and Dad’ routine he’d accused them of earlier. 

Determined not to appear more flustered than he already did, he gave the pair of them a quick jerk of his head. “Move out, troops.”

Fortunately, they started heading towards the car with little fanfare, the peanut gallery for once falling blissfully silent. 

As Eddie fell into step behind them, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to keep an even pace, even with Steve in tow. He knew he was a bit gangly, sure, but he wasn’t exactly a small guy. So, honestly, it came as a shock, just how light his body felt in Steve’s strong arms. 

“Okay, but seriously,” Steve started, tone furtive, “you know you really don’t have to do this.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Eddie clucked his tongue. “Au contraire, my good man. Lest we forget, post-bat attack, you were the one who literally held my guts in.” 

The pale skin of the face Steve was currently wearing went even paler, and not because Eddie had done anything as thoughtless as accidentally jostle him. “Jesus, Eds, don’t remind me.”

“All I’m saying is, I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to return the favor, after something like that. So, shush, Harrington. Sit back, relax, and…I don’t know. Maybe try to enjoy the ride?”

And though Steve did grumble out a few more half-hearted protests, he also seemed to melt more solidly into Eddie’s hold after that. For all his insistence that Eddie should be doing a better job looking after himself, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since Steve let someone take care of him like this. 

So when Steve finally let go enough to rest his head against Eddie’s chest, a warm weight above the steady beat of Eddie’s borrowed heart, he quietly resolved to take on that mantle for himself, always be at the ready to catch Steve if he fell. 

If I accidentally missed anybody on the taglist, or you’d like to be added, please let me know!

Taglist: @tinytalkingtina @sidekick-hero @thefreakandthehair @lingeringmirth @eriquin

@grimweathers @too-efn-old-to-be-here @stevesworldxx @themellowyellowmomma @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @ellietheasexylibrarian @sharingisntkaren @a-lovely-craziness @highkingpenny

[0sincerelyella]

Her Knights In Shining Armor - J.B

Summary: y/n and joe run into the end of the beginning to their exciting new journey, and the boys are happier than they ever could be.

Warnings: i don’t capitalize on purpose this isn’t a school essay. these are just for funzies for me and you, hope you enjoy!!

(mason is six, ollie is four)

As a 9 month pregnant woman, it was difficult for y/n to get up and down the stairs to the stadium at this point. Sadly, that is the boys favorite place to watch the games. At this point in y/ns pregnancy she couldn’t risk sitting in the stands, in fear of not having a way to get out. she didn’t want to ruin the boys fun at the games so they sat with Joes dad in the stands while y/n sat in the VIP box with joes mom.

Todays game is the biggest of the season. it’s the AFC championship game against none other than Kansas city for the third year in a row. It was in the beginning of the fourth quarter, the bengals were up one touchdown and Kansas city had the ball.

Y/n sat in the VIP box with Robin, on the edge of her seat. she’s screaming and yelling at the plays and the flags, she’s standing and pacing back and forth. “Y/n maybe you should sit down, you don’t wanna stress bean out” y/n sighed, angry at the distance between kansas city and the end zone

She obliged and sat down, holding her stomach, feeling an odd sensation she didn’t enjoy much.

looking back to the game she quickly stood in anger, watching as the chiefs scored a touch down. “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE-“ a sharp gasp stopped the yelling.

a pool of water flooded the ground, and y/n held her stomach as tight as she could. “Y/n? oh my goodness!” Robin stood as fast as she could. “It’s time no it can’t be time” her breathing became heavy as everyone in the box began to help her out of it as Robin called staff on the side to inform Zac. Quickly, the staff gave zac the phone.

“Zac i know it isn’t the time but y/n is going into labor” Y/n was groaning angrily as she tried to get herself down the stairs. “Oh no, i’m gonna have to pull joe” “NO! do not let him leave!” “y/n he’s going to want to be at the hospital.” “i know but this game is important to him- AH- and me, and it’s almost ove- CRAP just DONT LET HIM LEAVE”

Zac sent security up to get them and drive the two to the hospital.

on the feild, the fourth quarter had 5 minutes left as y/n began to make her way to the hospital.

Joe was throwing the ball and jamar ran it into the end zone, putting them up a touchdown. joe celebrated with his teammates as he heard zac’s voice through his helmet. “Joe, don’t freak but your wife’s going into labor” joe froze for a second, then ran towards the sideline “coach you gotta pull me” zac explained what y/n requested but joe was not having it. “i’m not missing my child’s birth!” “Joe y/n wants you to win the game, it’s almost over just push through and we will get you to the hospital as quickly as possible”

joe was not happy about it but he agreed, staying the rest of the game.

Jim, joes dad, had been told to let the boys finish the game and then take them to the hospital. so that’s what he did.

after the game, which the bengals had won, sending them to the super bowl. but joe had no time to celebrate. He rushed to the hospital as quick as possible in pads and all. He ran as fast as he could into the hospital, being directed to the room y/n was in. when he saw her laying in the hospital bed he completely broke down. “i thought i missed it” he was about to cry.

“Enough of that- OW- did we win?” she was wincing and screaming, but cared about nothing but the game. “Yes baby, we won, now come on let’s deliver this baby”

——————————

as quickly as he could, joe ran out into the waiting room, only to be faced with his whole team, his mom, his dad, but not his two sons

“What are all you guys doing here? you should be celebrating” the big grin on his face never left. “We couldn’t celebrate without our QB and our new D1 athlete” Jamar said. “So tell us joe, How is my new baby?” his mom asked

“She’s beautiful” that’s when the tears fell. the entire lobby filled with yells of joy, yelling about this beautiful new baby girl.

“her name is Bailey Eleanor Burrow” Robin began to cry as she hugged her son. “can i see her?” “i wanted the boys to meet her first, where are they?” just as he said that, Oliver and mason ran into the room playing tag.

“Daddy! Daddy! how’s bean?” joe smiled, grabbing his boys, taking them to the room.

when the boys poured into the room, y/n was holding bailey to her chest. “boys” she smiled, as oliver climbed into the bed. “oli stop it!” “no joey he’s okay” joe took his daughter as the boys hugged their mother close. “boys, i want you to meet your baby sister, bailey”

the first night they took bailey home, she cried all night, as babies do. not only keeping joe and y/n awake but also mason and oliver.

specifically, one night, mason and oliver crept out of there room before their sister woke up to cry. they layed infront of her door and closed there eyes.

when bailey began to cry, joe got out of bed to tend to the new light of his life. when he walked into the room, he hadn’t noticed the crying stop. he looked at her crib, and low and behold the two boys had stood on chairs to bend down and help their sister sleep.

“boys? what’s going on?” the boys looked up. “hi daddy” ollie said, smiling brightly. “Sorry you woke up daddy, we wanted to keep bails safe tonight don’t worry” mason smiled, standing tall and bright.

“joey? what’s happe- boys what are you doing awake?” y/n walked into the room, smiling at her boys. “you should be sleeping”

“they wanted to protect bails” the smile widened.

“oh boys” y/n tiredly picked up oliver, and joe picked up mason, walking towards his girlfriend with a kiss on the forehead.

“you boys are her nights in shining armor”

[wyverningx]

jeremy's pretty darn good at exy, good enough to secure an athletic scholarship to the best D1 school in california. he doesn't even need to move away from his family to attend, which is a blessing and a curse. things have been somewhat uncomfortable since his mom remarried, but it's fine. he's a freshman at USC, now. he's more free and independent than ever before. the world is his oyster.

he's faced his fair share of sports injuries — who hasn't, given the nature of a contact sport — but the first time he deals with a soft tissue injury as a college athlete hurts more than it did in high school. not necessarily because of the pain, because jeremy's a quick striker but still deals with collisions on the regular, but because being benched for six weeks sucks. he wants to make a name for himself. he wants to shine on the gold court like its namesake.

he gets some vicodin to manage the pain, and it does help.

only —

it starts to help a little too much. it dulls the awkward edge to his family interactions, makes his day-to-day operations a bit more manageable. keeps him in a better mood, relaxed and chilled out, when he's so bored from lack of exercise and stimulation that he starts to go mad.

the doctor gave him a lot of pills. it's fine. he's hurt; he needs them. it's normal.

only —

it's way too easy to get a refill on the prescription. his PCP's been taking care of the knox family for decades, and their office understands jeremy's ambition. they know he's disciplined, given his health and physique. so what's another bottle, or two, for the star athlete of the family?

so it becomes a bit of a habit. it's not a problem, though. being high is just... easier. maybe he doesn't pop the pills for the pain so much anymore, but nobody seems to notice or judge him if he's a little spaced out. there's a lot of mounting pressure once he's back on the court, after all. he missed almost two months of practice. he has to make up for it, because this might be the year the trojans finally take championships and wouldn't it be great, perfect even, if jeremy was responsible for such an accomplishment?

surely nobody can blame him for wanting a little something to take the edge off. he's been to frat parties on campus — bingeing alcohol is so much more of a crutch than a tiny white pill or two.

only —

his family comes home one day after celebrating jeremy's first fall banquet and sees jeremy's brother passed out on the ground, his bottle of pills spilling out across the floor and nonono jeremy only has so many at least they're just on the floor and he can scoop them back into that orange bottle so that he has them for later just in case he needs the safety net but oh god what does it mean that jeremy thought of his stash before his brother's well-being in an obvious suicide attempt, but that's not jeremy's fault. it can't be. he isn't responsible.

right?

[foxufortunes]

Apparently I'm in a talkative mood today ok. Today on things that everyone else probably has already realised but I have only just grasped recently: why do Ravens have cars?

Because, due to Tetsuji's blatant bribery and corruption that should have had investigations launched the second he set up at Evermore (in case you haven't seen my previous posts on this, your NCAA division/class is nothing to do with your team's skill but your school's sports program and budget and EAU, as described, if you're generous, a D2 school, while PSU is clearly a D1 school), he managed to set up Castle Evermore at a school that shouldn't have had it and therefore has no concept of how to properly oversee it. Think about how often you have Wymack referring to the school board and his bosses and why they have athlete dorms ect, to D1 schools their sports programs are a big deal and a massive portion of their appeal to students (and donors) and their budgets, so they manage them. EAU has no sports program to speak of (immediately disqualifying it from D1 status btw) and therefore no idea how to manage it and the oversight necessary (this doesn't change that the NCAA should be managing it but we'll gloss over that for now). Because of this Tetsuji was allowed to build Evermore waaaay off campus, because cults work best when you can isolate people (don't think about how the US Court manages to be at Evermore when the Ravens also never leave Evermore), thus facilitating the need for the Ravens to have cars because then you can manage their petrol to make sure no one's wandering, you can keep access to their keys, you could even get trackers and you won't have to risk them interacting with other people on (ew) public transport.

[bagopucks]

Out Of Place - Marner

Trigger Warning(s): talk of suicide, smoking, underage drinking, angst, bullying, fighting, heartbreak, manipulation, loss, and action.

Pairing: Mitch Marner x Fem!Gretzky!Oc

Official name: Maeve Gretzky, credits to

@jorjie-nhl for the name!

Summary: He was supposed to graduate a football player, but the plan changed, and now he’s a struggling athlete on a hockey team that can’t stand him. Back at square one for the first time in six years. Lost, but eventually found.

She’s a stable athlete who has a full ride to a D1 college. She has friends and he isn’t one of them. That is, until she shoulders how much of a pain he is, and decides to help teach him to play. Then all of a sudden, he doesn’t seem so bad. Satisfied, but inevitably yearning.

—————————————

“You all keep cryin about how he’s a football player! I don’t give a shit! I’m over it! He plays hockey now. He is your brother now!”

“Why’d you quit?”

“I couldn’t do it any more. My mom pulled me out.”

“I heard he made that kid kill himself…”

“Mitch. He wants you back.”

“What? No.”

“He said he won’t let it go until you talk.”

“Let’s go for a run!”

“A run, Marner? In the woods? With my good shoes on?”

“What? Afraid you can’t keep up, Gretz?”

“He’ll learn.”

“Oh dude.. look at this kid. You new here or what? You can’t skate with the peewee team.”

“Oh boy.. after the wipeout he just took, these kids might skate circles around him.”

—————————————Cast

Freshman are irrelevant to this story.

The Team

Sophmores

Jack Hughes

Akira Schmid, JV goalie

Trevor Zegras

Cole Caufield

Jamie Drysdale

Brady Tkachuk

Juniors

Mitch Marner

Matthew Tkachuk

Nico Hischier

Cale Makar

Jeremy Swayman, third string goalie

Quinn Hughes

Seniors

Leon Draisaitl

Connor McDavid, alternate

Andrei Vasilevskiy, second string goalie

David Pastrnak

Kasperi Kapanen

Matt Murray, vet goalie

Jacob Trouba, captain

Nathan MacKinnon, alternate

Hampus Lindholm

Matt Dumba

Darnell Nurse

The Coaching Staff

Wayne Gretzky, head coach

Mike Sullivan, assistant coach

Lindy Ruff, shift/power play coach

Pekka Rinne, goalie coach

The Supporting Cast

Auston Matthews, junior!football QB

Jordan Binnington, suspended junior goalie

Various other NHL players

Mario Lemieux, president of the hockey club

Gary Bettman, school sports director

Two comedic peewee coaches

Along with a few more surprises

[adwox]

i dont really care for human AUs of mega man characters but a zerox-centric college AU is actually so funny to me

-X graduates at the top of his class is therefore able to shave one year off at college, so hes put in the sophomore year dorms and his roommate is zero

-zero only went to college cause his stupid dad WAS a professor at university, but he got shitcanned halfway through his first term cause wily publicly cursed zero out for not paying attention in class

-light ended up being wilys replacement, to which neither X nor zero knew about until one day during parents weekend they both arrive to their boys dorm room at the same time. and yes they are bitter exs just like in the real games

-zero is a trustfund baby i said what i said. he kind of does not gaf about college at all but he is a dedicated D1 athlete and does work on the campus coffee shop (its the only place he will actually end up doing his homework because he functions best in a loud environment)

-X is duel-majoring because light has subconsciously put a lot of pressure on him especially after his oldest sibling blues dropped out very early on. rock never went to college because seeing what blues went through kind of freaked him out. roll plans on attending one day but is currently working to save up money first and also she just kind of doesnt feel like it yet. X is the worlds first youngest sibling to have eldest daughter syndrome

-despite being in the same graduating class, zero is still technically older, so X looks up to him as an upperclassmen. zero does feel an obligation to show him the ropes so he does look after him for a good while during X's first semester but he soon realizes firsthand just how capable he is

(non-hard drug talk below)

-neither of them ironically share vices, since they both make the respective other anxious. X is a wake and bake kind of guy, zero is a Drinks black coffee an hour before midnight person

-X only recently tried coffee again because zero made him a lavender latte specifically for him. even tho it was decaf, X still felt like his heart was about to jump out of his throat which he felt SO bad about since he knew zero specifically made it for him. and this happened within the first week of the term so they hadnt known each other that well, so X was very very embarrassed knowing zero was just watching him shake like a little leaf. though zero found it all rather amusing

-zero never smoked before because bass was a chronic smoker and it kind of turned him off since they didnt really get along for a while (theyre on much better terms now, they soulbond over wily causing them grief these days). X offers to roll for zero on the very first weekend cause in his mind X is like: college sophomore, how to get on good terms? offer free weed. Unfortunately a few hits in zero is white-knuckling his kneecaps and doing everything in his power not to throw up. he learned the hard way then and there that he is too paranoid for that shit, and while X felt so incredibly guilty for a while, he did feel it let them both become closer faster since zero did need to let his guard down to let X take care of him that evening

(end drug talk)

-X goes to every game zero is in (i really like the idea of the sport zero plays being hockey but idk if theres D1 hockey teams in college Lol) despite knowing nothing about the sport rules

-X finds out vile is actually on the same sports team as zero which is SO awkward for him since they had VERY briefly dated before X realized just how incompatible they were. whenever vile puts two and two together about who X's roommate is, let it be known he will be scheming........

-X joins the improv club because he feels he struggles a lot with making decisions on the fly, but to his surprise hes very great at adapting to other people! zero, who kind of used to think it was a rather silly club, ends up sitting in on some of their performances and finds it quite endearing

-also the first bonding moment X and zero have is when zero notices X hang up a photo of rush on their corkboard and is like: "oh shit i like your dog. i have one too. (shows photo of treble) i mean technically hes my older brothers but hes the only one that cares to make that distinction." X responds immediately full of newfound excitement: "no way, i have an older brother too! well, two of them. and an older sister.... but since i was the last one to leave the house, i always felt like i was taking care of them whenever theyd come back." IMMEDIATE soul bonding over family dynamics ensue

[khalilprice]

“No one ever taught you how to dougie … and it shows.”

courtland khalil price. big aquarius energy ( february 7! 🎉 ). former D1 athlete turned cameraman for ring of honor. dog dad to annie and yes, she’s okay. another nature buff, hikes and shit, y’know! can be described as a big brother type to all around him, khalil is a sweetheart. growing up, he was almost instantly given a football in his hands as his dad was the local high school’s head coach. his mother is a lawyer. he’s a twin, has a sister who dives deep into journalism. < yes I stole that trope from all american (the show his fc is/was in) khalil loves to party, smokes weed and takes edibles recreationally, meditate, and always has to keep busy. he struggles with anxiety and the things listed above helps him deal with that. he’s a lot more social now but it took him years to build up to that. if he weren’t the coach’s son, he feels as though he would’ve been bullied a lot more harshly than he was.

khalil’s had a love for professional wrestling since his 8th grade year after a sleepover at a friend’s house and the friend’s stepfather was watching it tv. he was so captivated by the larger than life characters and the crowd reactions to it, it was nothing he’d ever seen before. it reminded him a lot of football but in a much more physical capacity. he was even advocating for his school to have a wrestling team but he was unsuccessful numerous times. his school’s primary focus was football and football only.

khalil was a quarterback despite not having much passion for the sport. he gave it his best shot in order to please his father who really wanted his son to become the football star he once was. that quickly derailed due to khalil suffering far too many concussions. he became nauseous, lightheaded, and numerous other symptoms quite too often and by the time his senior year came around, he’d given up on it completely despite protest. his relationship with his father never quite recovered since.

it was a girl who had gotten him into videography during his sophomore year often trying to film her (not like that) because to him, she was so incredibly beautiful that a picture didn’t seem like enough for him. whether it was simply reading or one of her performances (she was a singer), the record button and Khalil became well acquainted.

this is a hobby he still carries with him, videography not the girl specifically. he loves to capture moments of joy, pain, and everything between. he simply loves the art of it and can talk about it for hours.

before working for ring of honor, khalil was just a fan that did random video edits of different wrestlers he liked on his mac. as for work, he snagged a job as an assistant to another videographer trying to absorb knowledge. but that videographer in particular used him as his errand boy a lot. he was saved when he had done a video compilation of the trio of SCU and Christopher Daniels noticed him on X. Chris had messaged him for permission so he could retweet it and of course, khalil said yes! in thanking him, he offered him tickets to the next show and again, yes! while at the ring of honor taping backstage, they struck up a convo and when chris mentioned that it was one of their cameramen’s last day, khalil said fuck it! (out loud actually whoops) and mentioned that he’d apply. christopher daniels in return told him that if he knew what he was doing, he didn’t need to. the rest of the chaos is history as they say.

connections; so far!

The only real connection I have is the one I created above with Christopher Daniels. He is a big part of Khalil’s reasoning for being with the company and overtime, they’ve really become close. In the small chance that someone decides to bring in The Fallen Angel, of course this will be worked with or even erased if that writer wants.

If anyone would like to plot with Khalil, please note that I am only shipping with the right amount of chemistry but everything else is up for grabs. Please exhibit patience and kindness with me because I’m a shy bird. Also 99.9999% of the time I’m mobile.

lil’ facts about khalil that I’ll add to throughout

He has 2 birthdays that he celebrates. His legal birthday is February 7th of the year 1997 but the adjacent birthday that he celebrates is April 22nd of the year 2000. April 22, 2000 was when Christopher and June Price adopted him and his sister, Nia. Prior to that, he was in foster care. Khalil truthfully doesn’t remember much about being in foster care due to his young age and how fortunate he was adopted at a young age.

His birth father is of Nigerian descent and his birth mother is of German descent. Khalil only knows scarce information about his birth parents and that is because unfortunately at only 7 months of age, they were in a car accident. He was born in Chicago but was relocated to Los Angeles once adopted.

Khalil is biracial but was adopted and raised by a white family. They were very open and made it very clear to their son about his race. They expressed kindness and reassurance and never once tried to hide the fact that he was adopted. Any questions he had, he was more than welcome to ask. As a yapper, boy did he!

Around the same time he began working with Ring of Honor is when he adopted his puppy Annie! Nothing specific brought this on other than he’s always wanted a dog but he never got to have one growing up.

[winterpinetrees]

The Human Protagonists

Hey wait, I thought The Gap Years was about some rich kids on a road trip? It is, I just like them less than the rest of the cast. Whoops.

A few days before the story begins, three extremely rich kids graduate from private rich kid high school in San Francisco. They have all been accepted to outrageously prestigious universities, but they’re taking a gap year first. They are tired of this life and they want one year of pretending to be normal before being dragged back to fundraising galas and tabloid news. So they’re taking a road trip. Money isn’t an issue so they’re going to drive off and not come back until they feel sane. It doesn't go to plan.

They are...

Brian Whitaker, a humanities kid who’s been declared a himbo by everyone but his closest friends.

Sierra Bracken, a quiet tech genius who actually knows that magic is real.

and Clay Shepard, the cynic who can keep a budget and pretend to be normal.

The intro said that there are four kids on the road trip. That wasn't a typo. The fourth is the true protagonist of the story. He's an unexpected addition to the party, Prince Marin Sondaica.

Name: Brian Whitaker

Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Human

Age: 18

Special skills: Strong, fast, and well-coordinated. A D1 level baseball player, wrestler, and skilled surfer. Solid knowledge of history, literature, and politics. Charming and liked by the media.

Appearance notes: 6’3 with a lean, athletic build. He is as tall as Ishtar, but takes up less space. He is a very conventionally attractive white boy with blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a significant tan. Brian is even more attractive by elven standards, which is a benefit and a problem. Brian has calloused hands and a few scars from various sporting accidents. Specifically, he has a small scar on his jaw.

Brian Whitaker drives the car. He endures constant jokes that he’s a himbo. Despite this, he is a humanities kid who gets nearly perfect grades. Brian is the third son of an old political dynasty. However, he thinks that gerrymandering is bad and can talk about all the ways that American democracy is broken for an hour on end without needing notes. Brian is charismatic, but he isn’t going to go into politics because he is a kind and honest person. He likes to think that he would sacrifice for the greater good. Brian was pretty neglected as a child but found that he could get noticed through sports. Now Brian is a varsity athlete and surfs all summer. This backfired, and now everyone thinks that he’s a dumb jock. They also think that he’s a playboy, which really isn’t accurate because he respects other people. Brian does live his life in search of feeling though. He’s a thrillseeker, a frequenter of high school parties, and a hopeless romantic. Next year he plans to attend Princeton as some sort of English major and join a fraternity.

…………

Name Sierra Bracken

Pronouns: She/her

Species: Human

Age: 18

Special skills: Genius mechanic and engineer. Skilled but not prodigious programmer. Upper body strength. Has a tiny bit of background knowledge about magic.

Appearance notes: 5’3 with a heavier build. She is half white and half latina. Light brown skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes. She is rarely seen without a pair of teal headphones and wears copper wire wrapped around both wrists.

Sierra Bracken is the oldest child of a Silicon Valley tech magnate. She has a genuinely positive relationship with both her parents (she’s the only one in the trio who does), and a complicated one with the media.

She is a tech genius who can build anything and hack… most things. She also has a special interest in nuclear physics, which means that she essentially has a special interest in magic. Sierra has spent enough time in university physics departments (In this world, being a physicist is a direct path to adventure…and sometimes death) and on tiny Internet forums to know that magic is real. She doesn’t know any of the details, but she knows the basic fact that humans are not alone in the universe. She is snarky but not particularly good at it and doesn’t have any close not-online friends other than Brian and Clay. She’s going off to MIT next fall. Sierra’s more nervous about this than she wants to admit and is thinking of the road trip as a way to say goodbye.

…………

Name: Clay Shepard

Pronouns: He/him

Species: Human

Age: 18

Special skills: Amazing liar and very good at reading people. First-aid. Wilderness survival skills. Street smarts. Sees the world the way it is and can make it work for him. Very accurate with a gun.

Appearance notes: 5’10 and skinny. He is white with sharp features and a perpetually tired expression. He has straight chin length brown hair, brown eyes, and ‘tortoiseshell’ glasses.

Clay Shepard hates his father, and his father hates him. His family earned their fortune relatively recently from America’s terrible healthcare system. He’s the middle child of the family, which is very helpful because he’s trying to be forgotten. (He’s thankful for the money, of course, but other than that he wants out. Clay has a strong moral compass. He’s also gay, and his father is both very corrupt and somewhat homophobic.) Clay wants to be a real doctor, and actually do no harm. As a result, he’s doing first aid on this quest. Clay also has extremely good people skills, honed by spending his nights and weekends around normal teens. He is an amazing liar, and knows how to say exactly what people want to hear. Clay's miserable home life has been getting to him, though. He doesn’t have much faith in humanity. The only thing keeping him from true cynicism and despair are his friends. Both the ones on the quest with him, and his more secret friends, a loose collection of lower class teenagers who by some miracle adopted him into the group as they explore the abandoned parts of the city and try to make adolescence work. Clay supplies them with money. Lots of money. As much as he can take from his father. He’ll attend Harvard next year as a pre-med student.

In a classic fighter-rogue-wizard-cleric D&D party, Brian is the fighter, Sierra is the wizard, Clay is the cleric, and Marin is the rogue.