#Andrew Minyard is a protective bastard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nekojitachan · 4 years

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it’s been a long week but at least I got this done. And now I have to get chapter fics done. Really. But the first part of the angsty Raven!Andrew soulmate not fic is done. Not that I’m already thinking of the second part. And hey! It’s a fic that’s under 40k...

Last part can be found here

Mentions of violence (being beaten) but not explicit, but I think that’s it? Oh, references to Ichirou’s past.

*******

Waking up in pain wasn’t unusual for Andrew, not after all the years in the foster system then his time spent in juvie. He’d gotten so used to it that it had been unexpected, living with Nicky and Aaron, when he woke up most days without the sensation of pain somewhere in his body, only to be replaced with the strain from overworked muscles once he joined the Ravens (oh, and a sadistic bastard who had a thing for caning his players).

But this? The stinging throb from punches and kicks? Definitely familiar. What wasn’t? The large room with black leather couches, large, flat-screen televisions on the wall, a fancy-looking bar, and expensive artwork scattered around the place, not to mention an expanse of windows on the one side. Andrew rubbed his bound hands through the plush red carpet he lay upon and suspected that he was in the East Tower where Nathaniel spent so much time.

He’d just started to push himself into a sitting position when he heard the sound of muffled footsteps. “Looks like the runt is awake,” a deep voice called out. “Just like Junior, he bounces back fast.”

Before Andrew could turn around, he found himself jerked upright by the back of his jersey by Nathan Wesninski of all people; the bastard was dressed in black slacks and a light grey dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He barely had time to take that in before he was punched in the stomach, right where his padding was the thinnest, with enough force to make him gasp in pain, and then again in the face. As he struggled to shove the bastard away, to do something, Wesninski laughed and slammed him against the wall. “And just like Junior, you don’t know when to behave and take your punishment, you little-“

“That’s enough.”

The firmly spoken command was enough to stop Wesninski in mid-punch; the bastard grunted as he let go of Andrew’s throat and stepped away. “I was told to teach him a lesson.”

“I believe you’ve done that,” a young Asian man, dressed in a tailored black suit, told Wesninski as he stepped forward; he looked to be in his early twenties, if that, with a lean build and black hair combed back from a face which was oddly familiar.

Andrew suspected that he’d finally met Ichirou Moriyama.

“Tetsuji said-“

“And I just told you that’s enough.” Despite Ichirou not raising his voice, something in his dark gold eyes made Wesninski stiffen and bow his head. “I’ll deal with Minyard, you can leave and inform my uncle that the matter is resolved on your way out.” When Wesninski moved forward, Ichirou spoke again. “And Nathan? I’ll also deal with Nathaniel.”

Something unpleasant flashed across Wesninski’s face at the mention of his son. “It’s best if I handle my-“

Ichirou cut off the man known as ‘the Butcher’ once again as he walked over to the bar. “He’s not your anything anymore, not after you sold him to my family. You have your orders.” He looked up from pouring a drink to give Wesninski a cold look, as if daring the man to make him say anything else.

He might be a sadistic, abusive bastard, but Wesninski apparently could get the hint; he bowed his head in a curt manner then stalked out of the room.

Andrew slumped against the wall and watched him go, then focused his attention on the unknown Moriyama; well, that was partially untrue. He knew that the young man was Riko’s older brother yet had nothing to do with the asshole, and that for some reason, he tended to look out for Nathaniel.

That he appeared to be here to ‘deal’ with Andrew.

“What, no drink for me?” he drawled as he raised his bound hands to dab at his bleeding lip.

Ichirou regarded him with cool appraisal while he sipped his drink, appearing in no hurry to answer. Once the glass was empty, he set it down on the bar and refilled it. “Nat tells me that you’re intelligent, almost frighteningly so, and never forget a thing. He also says you’re very stubborn, which isn’t a surprise if you’re his soulmate.”

Andrew merely grunted in response to those facts.

“I know that you’re rather talented at Exy, considering your stats, and that you’ve been protecting Nat.” Ichirou paused to sip his drink while Andrew gazed at him with a blank expression. “And that Nat has feelings for you, because he’s never tried to sneak anything out of here before, yet he’s suddenly discovered a new appreciation for sweets, something he’s always hated before.”

“That’s quite a guess, isn’t it? Maybe he took them for Moreau,” Andrew suggested as he stared at the zip tie around his wrists as if he could will it to melt away.

Ichirou huffed as if amused and swirled the golden alcohol around in the cut crystal glass. “I’ve known Nat for years, and the only time he requests anything for his partner is when we had marzipan treats. No, this was for you, his soulmate, the man who required seven people to pry him away from Nat.”

It would have taken more than that if that prick, Riko, hadn’t smashed a racquet down on his head; only his helmet saved him from a serious injury. “I do it for all the boys who bring me cupcakes.”

“I’m sure.” The right corner of Ichirou’s mouth twitched upward as he reached into an inner pocket of his suit’s coat and pulled out a knife.

“Gonna start on that whole ‘deal with me’ thing?” Andrew asked as he eyed the weapon with care; Ichirou had a few inches on him, but he thought he could take the Japanese man even with his hands bound – at least knock him aside and get a good head’s start.

“Hmm, something like that. Hold out your hands and remain still,” Ichirou ordered as he came to a halt just out of reach. He gave Andrew a bored look while he flipped the knife in his right hand. “Unless you don’t want to have that drink and talk about something that will benefit Nat in the end.”

That… was that a trick? Andrew frowned at the Moriyama for a moment before he decided he could always beat him up if it was and held out his hands. He tensed as Ichirou slashed with the knife, but only to sever the plastic tie holding his hands bound. “What about Nat?” he asked as he rubbed his sore wrists once they were free.

“He told me that you found out about his father selling him to my family, and about what we really do,” Ichirou said as he returned to the bar and poured another glass of what turned out to be a very nice whiskey. “Don’t be upset with him, as he knows better than to lie to me.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed at that ‘knows better’ part; he forced himself to have another sip of whiskey rather than throw it in the asshole’s impassive face. “Yes, I know.” Between Jean and his truth game with Nathaniel, he finally did know why Riko thought he could do whatever the hell he wanted, consequences be damned.

“Yes, so you understand that my father is a very powerful man, one who doesn’t tolerate weakness, and he’s raised me to be the same way,” Ichirou explained as he removed his coat, which revealed a pistol in a shoulder holster, then he began to undo the cuff of his left sleeve once the coat was draped over the back of the nearest couch.

The whiskey helped a little with the pain, so Andrew poured himself another glass. “I know you’ve a pet serial killer in your pocket, and your dad disowned your little brother for some reason, which has given the psycho some serious daddy issues. Is there a point to this?”

Ichirou’s lips twitched again. “Very much so, especially in regard to Riko.” His expression turned flat when he mentioned his brother. “As I said, we’re allowed no weakness.” He turned his left forearm to Andrew, which exposed his soulmate mark.

What was left of it, that was.

Cold washed down Andrew’s spine when he realized that the shadow-like flower petals which surrounded the sword indicated that Ichirou’s soulmate was dead, and he instinctively reached for his own mark as if to confirm that it was unmarred (that Nathaniel was still alive). Ichirou noticed the movement and nodded once before he reached for his neglected drink.

“There is to be only one Moriyama heir at a time, to avoid splitting the clan apart with rivalries. My mother, my father’s soulmate, knew that, yet….” He paused for a long swallow of whiskey then refilled the glass once it was set down. “Perhaps she felt certain the child would be a girl, or that my father wouldn’t care if it was a boy since he allowed her to bear the child. Regardless, that child was Riko, and my father chose to punish her for risking the clan’s succession.”

Andrew suspected that the woman hadn’t had her credit cards cut up or something like that, not when Ichirou had another gulp of whiskey.

“It wasn’t enough that Riko took my mother away from me, but my father confirmed at his birth that he was a boy and noticed that he had no soulmate mark. He decided that was the one way that his unwanted child was better than me and resolved to spare me his own weakness.” He held up his exposed left arm and gazed at it without emotion. “When I found my soulmate, he immediately had her killed.”

Well, this was such a fascinating story, all full of fun trauma and everything, but Andrew had a living soulmate he needed to check on (and keep out of trouble). “Can we skip to the point of this? I assume there’s a reason you’re monologuing.”

Ichirou’s eyes narrowed as he rolled down his sleeve. “Riko should never have been born, yet here he is, a thorn in my father’s side. Soon he’ll be a thorn in my side, and that I won’t allow.” The young mobster’s voice grew harsh as he tugged on his suit coat. “Unlike my father, I pay attention to what happens here, I know that Tetsuji has created a monster who is one major scandal from bringing unwanted attention our way.”

“You listen to Nathaniel,” Andrew surmised as he debated one more drink but decided against it.

“Nat,” Ichirou acknowledged with a slight bob of his head, “and I’ve placed a few of my men within the Nest in the past year. There has been an increasing amount of Ravens who’ve washed out before graduation in the last couple years due to the ‘stress’ of the program, and now Kevin Day. It’s only going to get worse by the time Riko himself graduates.”

Here came the sales pitch, Andrew thought as he pulled away from the bar. “What do you expect me to do?” Someone like Ichirou didn’t save him from a beating and ply him with expensive alcohol for nothing.

The smile that had threatened to form on Ichirou’s lips finally was allowed free, though it was a slight, cold thing. “Riko has taken much from me, so in return I want him to lose everything.” He turned around to face the expanse of windows which overlooked Castle Evermore. “Everything he holds dear, I want him to see it slip from his grasp right before the life he never should have had ends.”

Andrew thought about that for a moment while he felt out the large bump on his head. “You want me to take down Riko.” Ichirou gave a curt nod. “And the Ravens?”

“The team will need new management to undo the damage Riko and Tetsuji has done to it and allow it to be useful once more.”

Okay. “That sounds like you want me to take down Tetsuji as well.” Not that he was complaining, especially after all the canings. Especially after all the canings to Nathaniel.

Ichirou looked over his shoulder, his expression impassive once more. “It needs to be done in a manner that the main branch can control, to ensure that our people are in place to pick up the pieces once those two are removed.”

Andrew clicked his tongue as he picked up the crystal decanter filled with whiskey. “You’re not asking for much, are you?” When Ichirou remained quiet, he clicked his tongue again. “What do I get out of all this?” A million bucks would be nice.

Ichirou resumed gazing upon the Exy court below. “Other than currently not being beaten half-dead by the Butcher? There is the matter of your soulmate.”

Mention of Nathaniel made Andrew stiffen, ready to throw the decanter at the first threat uttered against him. “What about Nat?” he asked, voice harsh with warning.

“He will always belong to the Moriyamas, he’s too useful and already knows too many things,” Ichirou said, his back still turned to Andrew as if unconcerned about being attacked. “But as with all things of value, he should be treated with care, not abused and locked away. Agree to this, and he’ll formally belong to the main branch. Once you’ve completed the task? Well, we can discuss allowing Nat a bit more freedom.” He turned around to give Andrew a stern look. “Within reason. He’ll always have obligations to honor.”

Andrew would deal with those ‘obligations’ one day, the main thing was protecting Nathaniel. If it also meant getting him away from the Nest by fucking up Riko? Not a problem, not a problem at all. “Can I rely on your people for assistance?” he asked, mind already busy thinking up possibilities; his biggest challenge was being restricted to the Nest most of the time.

“Of course, Nat can assist you with that.” Ichirou cocked his head to the side as he regarded Andrew. “I assume we are in agreement?”

“Make sure the assholes leave Nat alone and yes, we’re in agreement.” Andrew would be all in to kill Riko regardless, but anything that benefited Nathaniel on top was added incentive.

“Wonderful.”

Not really, that would be Andrew wiping out all the Moriyamas and the Butcher as well then riding off into the distance in a nice new Ferrari with Nathaniel beside him, but it was a start. He hummed as he walked away with the whiskey, done with the conversation (and Moriyamas) for the time being; he heard Ichirou huff behind him then speak Japanese a moment later, and found a guard waiting out in the hallway who ‘escorted’ him back to the Nest.

Ichirou might be a Moriyama bastard, but at least he knew when to pick his battles.

The halls of the Nest were unusually quiet and empty; Andrew suspected that everyone had gone to ground after their ‘king’ having a wee bit of disassociation from sanity earlier. He made his way to Nathaniel’s room and didn’t bother to knock before entering.

He found his soulmate huddled on his bed, right cheek bruised and expression startled, with Jean nowhere to be found. “Where’s Valjean?” Andrew asked as he sat down on the other end of the bed.

“Uhm, off with Toby and Leif.” Nathaniel gave him a worried look as he slowly unfurled. “Are you all right? Did Tetsuji do anything to you?”

“Just peachy.” Andrew set the bottle on the floor as he turned toward Nathaniel, sore body protesting from the movement. “Why are you alone?”

Nathaniel frowned as he reached for Andrew’s face but stopped just short of touching him. “Because Tetsuji said he called my father. I didn’t want Jean here when he comes.” He glanced at the door and shook his head. “You should go.”

Aw, was someone trying to protect him from the big, bad Butcher? “I already had the displeasure of meeting the walking sperm-bank who fathered you,” Andrew said as he got up to fetch a change of clothes, tired of wearing his uniform; he figured one of Jean’s shirts and a pair of Nathaniel’s loose cotton pants should fit. Somewhat fit.

“Wait, you did? Are you really okay?” Nathaniel asked in a rush as he got up, too (and fetched the pants once he figured out what Andrew was looking for). “Is he still here?”

“Ichirou sent him on his way and told him to leave you alone.” Andrew took the clothes and went into the bathroom to change, but left the door open a crack so they could continue to talk. He’d ache for the next couple days, but it felt good to get his gear off at last.

“Ichirou’s here, too? Great.” It sounded as if Nathaniel slumped against the wall. “Is he angry? I mean, not that he yells or anything when he’s mad, but you can tell because of how he goes all tense and fake smiley.”

Good to know. “Not with you.” If anything, Ichirou thought a little too well of ‘Nat’, especially since he didn’t have a soulmate of his own anymore, but one thing at a time.

“Oh.” Andrew stepped back into the room to find Nathaniel nibbling on his bottom lip as he dwelled on something. “Why did he talk to you, then?”

“Because he wants me to do something for him.” There was no reason to keep it a secret, not when he’d need Nathaniel’s help (and probably Jean’s as well).

And maybe a certain stubborn idiot would back down to throwing himself into trouble if he knew that there was an endgame in sight.

(Who was he kidding?)

“And what is that?” Nathaniel reached out to tug on the overlarge t-shirt Andrew wore and pull him closer, seemingly unafraid of his presence. “What does he want?”

Andrew leaned his forearms against the wall, which penned his soulmate in; Nathaniel gazed at him without fear but a growing amount of impatience. “It seems that he doesn’t care for his baby brother and wants me to take him down,” he murmured after he leaned in, his mouth close to Nathaniel’s right ear.

“You… Ichirou’s finally going to do something about Riko?” Nathaniel stared at him in disbelief. “And he wants you to help?”

Andrew clicked his tongue as he fought not to slide his fingers into his soulmate’s tousled hair. “He wants me to do all the fucking work, and he wants the psycho gone before he causes too many problems.” He’d keep quiet on the whole family drama for now, especially since Nathaniel had his own share of it.

“Oh.” Nathaniel nibbled on his bottom lip again, while Andrew struggled not to shiver in response, to lean in and suck on it to soothe the savaged flesh. “You… you don’t have to do it alone, you know. I’ll help.”

Of course he would. “I agreed to do the deal.”

“And I owe Riko for years of- I owe him,” Nathaniel argued, his voice hoarse and eyes alight with anger.

“Fine,” Andrew relented after a few seconds. “But you listen to me and don’t do anything on your own.” Nathaniel nodded and, after a moment, once more reached for his abused mouth, his fingers a scant distance away as he traced along his split lower lip.

“Are you really okay? I know… I know how my father can be.”

That was quite the understatement. “I’m fine,” Andrew insisted as he gave in and slid the fingers of his right hand into Nathaniel’s mussed curls. “What about you?”

The idiot shrugged and didn’t look away. “Tetsuji hit me a couple times but he was too busy dealing with Riko and willing to leave me to my father.” When his hand lingered near Andrew’s shoulder, Andrew caught it and rested it along the side of his neck; that time he shivered to feel his soulmate touch him.

“There and along my shoulder,” he said, his voice husky for some reason. “Yes or no?” he asked, unable to hold back when his soulmate looked at him like that, when he showed such concern, when he allowed him so close without fear. Unable to explain exactly what he meant.

Nathaniel blinked at the question, his pupils blown and reaction slow, and just when Andrew was about to pull away, used his hold on Andrew’s neck to gently pull him closer. “Yes,” he breathed out as his eyes drifted shut. “Yes.”

Later they would talk, would sit down and figure things out… but right then, all Andrew wanted to do was have Nathaniel’s lithe body against his, to do some of his own nibbling on that full bottom lip, to feel a heartbeat that pulsed in time with his own between his lips as he sucked on his soulmate’s neck…

His soulmate.

Nathaniel was addictive and almost docile in his arms, was mindful of his hands while he arched into Andrew’s touch like a cat which craved attention. He was… he was perfect, and only the aches from being hit earlier convinced Andrew that he was real.

He wanted so much more than kisses and lingering touches, but there was Nathaniel choking back on a ‘please’, was him smoothing his thumb over the ‘3’ on a flushed cheekbone. He wanted, and it seemed that his soulmate wanted, too (was it truly real?), yet he pulled away before he did something to ruin the one truly good thing that Fate had seemed to grant him in his life.

(Which he would burn the world to ash to keep safe.)

“Ohhh… wait, no,” Nathaniel breathed out as he grabbed the hem of Andrew’s borrowed shirt. “Why? Did I-“

Andrew flicked at a loose curl that fell onto his soulmate’s face. “That’s enough for now, sweetpea. Don’t want to overwhelm you with my sexiness.”

As expected, Nathaniel went from aroused to annoyed in less than two seconds. “Overwhelm me with your arrogance? Too late, hasenfürzchen.” When Andrew went to complain about his nickname, Nathaniel pushed forward and dragged him toward the bed – unfortunately, just to talk. “Now let’s figure out what to do while Jean’s not here.”

True, they’d have more time to talk about things between them on Friday, they might as well focus on getting rid of Riko as soon as possible. Part of Andrew chided him for being a fool in thinking that Nathaniel was such a ‘sure thing’, but each time his soulmate smiled at him and agreed to something long-term….

Nathaniel did the impossible and made him believe.

(Nathaniel also agreed to hide the rest of the whiskey so he didn’t have to share it with Ben, which meant he had something else to look forward to on Friday.)

He forced himself to leave eventually, aware that Jean was worried about his partner and intent on doing something before the Ravens met up for dinner. Nathaniel’s burner phone in hand (oh yes, Ichirou needed to learn some boundaries in regard to others’ soulmates very soon), he went out on court for some necessary privacy and called one of the two numbers on it (the other was going to be deleted very soon).

A familiar voice answered, sounding a bit confused. “Nat? It’s not Sunday, is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine, but it’s not Nat,” Andrew told Kevin Day in French. “He did lend me this phone, though, if you hadn’t guessed.”

It was quiet on the end for several seconds. “Nat’s all right, yes? I mean, you’re his soulmate so-“

“Yes, he’s fine.” Andrew felt a bit insulted by the question. “Shut up with the stupid questions, I don’t have much time.”

“I- okay, what’s going on?”

Slightly better. “This is where you answer my questions and then listen as I tell you what’s going to happen if you want to remain free of the Moriyamas,” Andrew told him. “As well as pay back the friends who got you out of this hellhole.” Perhaps he was taking Ichirou a bit too literally with the whole ‘allow Nat more freedom’, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

(He’d kill the crime lord when he came to it, if necessary.)

All that mattered was that Kevin Day listened and obeyed, and played his part in Riko’s downfall.

(He wondered what it would take to get Nathaniel to go with him to Eden’s.)

*******

IDFK why it removes some of my italics. IDFK.

There you go, Ichirou dealing with Andrew instead of Neil/Nathaniel. I imagine it’s a lot of blank faces all around.

It hasn’t been a good migraine week and busy w/ work, so hopefully this isn’t too much gibberish.

Thanks so much, those of you who’ve stuck with this not-fic.

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exysexualmoron · 3 years

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I posted 5,328 times in 2021

424 posts created (8%)

4904 posts reblogged (92%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 11.6 posts.

I added 374 tags in 2021

#aftg - 105 posts

#andrew minyard - 55 posts

#neil josten - 54 posts

#all for the game - 46 posts

#andreil - 35 posts

#kevin day - 18 posts

#aftg fic - 17 posts

#aaron minyard - 16 posts

#amora cant draw - 14 posts

#lol - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 116 characters

#idk if this fic is ever coming out but here's the concept art of the twins i did when procastinating writing the fic

My Top Posts in 2021

idk if I posted this here buuuuut

127 notes • Posted 2021-09-20 22:38:18 GMT

okay but there has to be a street version of Exy, right? Bc Exy has always been some kind of rich kid sport for me (the equipment is expensive, it's not like you can just buy a ball and play it like soccer, volleyball or even basketball), so it would make sense that there is a street version of it... And thanks to a convo I had with @eloennerosa I can't stop thinking about it. Like... It would be savage, no protective anything. Not played with a proper Exy ball or a racquet... Maybe with a tennis ball? An Exy ball someone got their hands on? A baseball? One kid probably somewhere probably played with a hockey puck. Broomsticks for the racquets, definitely, or those random pieces of wood you just find everywhere somehow, with some net attached to it that just breaks free all the time (crochet? just a piece of cloth to hold the ball? fancier kids will make their own out of string or clotheslines), Any helmet you can get your hands on (bike, football, baseball). Wtf is a neck guard. It would be played in empty lots between buildings, simply for the walls, to practice rebounds and shit, so there would be that one spot in every neighborhood where you'd just know to find the Exy kids throwing a ball against the wall and driving the neighbors NUTS, some of them would be too narrow, some too short, but who cares? OH and a goalkeeper racquet? You mean a piece of wood we found down the street someone attached a skateboard to it? A stolen street sign? One of those things you use to put pizzas in those fancy pizzaria ovens?

What I'm saying is... Street Exy would be the true bastard sport. It would be the shit

158 notes • Posted 2021-04-16 01:41:21 GMT

Andreil would hit different if instead of a roof they hung out of a swing set

183 notes • Posted 2021-04-12 19:50:26 GMT

Saw this while working on some moldboards for Andrew and Aaron in my punk!AU and I can't stop fucking laughing

330 notes • Posted 2021-03-08 23:25:47 GMT

obsessed with the concept of Andrew, fresh out of the shower, standing in front of the mirror and admiring a hickey Neil gave him. a mark he wanted, one he allowed, one he didn't need to hide bc it's not bad or wrong

473 notes • Posted 2021-06-30 03:50:54 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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psych0midget · 5 years

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Secret Stan Account AU Part 2

Part 1

It doesn’t take long for people to figure out that A. Minyard’s book is dedicated to Neil Josten. NEIL FREAKING JOSTEN. Like Neil Josten, the one and only exy player who can play every position? He’s a formidable backliner, a precise dealer (though he hates the position, fiercely) and one of the most promising strikers of the exy panorama? That Neil Josten? Oh. My. God.

Neil has thousands, millions of fans out there. But he had seriously underestimated it. It doesn’t take long for his fans to put two and two together, realise that he has a secret stan account and start looking for it.

It also doesn’t take them long to find it, not when Neil didn’t have the foresight of using a fake name on twitter. There are only so many book twt accounts run by someone called Neil.

Most of his fans are excited about it. Some are not. Especially when they realise that his account is also a Kevin Day stan account.

It’s a pr nightmare, that’s what Allison tells him as soon as he picks up the phone. She tries to keep everything under control, but by the time Neil’s done with the meetings, the interviews and all the unnecessary drama, he opens up Twitter only to find out that his stan account has been deleted.

And so has Drew’s.

Neil curses. He hadn’t had time to text Drew and tell him that he’d seen the dedication. And Drew, or rather A. Minyard has no official social medias. He’s fucked, he’s well and truly fucked.

The only source of info is the website of Drew’s publisher. But there’s a just a short bio saying that A. Minyard is a 27 year old author from Columbia. Has three cats and knows how to use knives, he swears the fight scenes in his books are all real. There’s also a photo and it’s the portrait of a blond man with eyes the color of honey staring impassively at the camera. And It’s the only thing Neil has left of Drew.

Jean Moreau gets back home only to find his roommate looking at his laptop, tabs and tabs and tabs open on his desktop. There’s a cup of coffee on the ground, a half-eaten sandwich on the rug (!!!) and a phone book (he had no idea those things still existed in 2019) on the sofa.

Jean ushers Jeremy inside the apartment, closes the door behind them and sighs. “Have you tried calling your uncle yet?” he asks. “I tried, but it’s 3am in the UK, he’s not picking up.”

Jean had meant it as a joke. A joke. Jean will kill Neil if the FBI doesn’t kill him first. “You tried calling the British mafia just to find your internet boyfriend? Are you nuts?”

Neil, the bastard, doesn’t even look sorry.

Jean almost starts shaking as he tries NOT to throw a chair at Neil’s, but Jeremy wraps his arm around his waist and rubs slow circles on his hip till he calms down. God bless Jeremy, god bless Jeremy especially when he says “You know Minyard’s doing a book tour right? He should be in Chicago next week, you could always show up there?”.

And Neil, Neil who’s lost his fucking mind for a guy he became friends with on twitter, finally relaxes his shoulders and looks at Jeremy like he’s hung the moon. (Jean is going to murder Neil if he keeps staring at his boyfriend like that.)

Neil goes to the M&G with Minyard in Chicago. He pretends he’s not nervous, but he is. If the endless queue in front of the book shop is any indication, this won’t go down well.

And in fact it doesn’t.

It doesn’t because the fans recognize him, they start asking for selfies and autographs and all hell breaks loose. When Minyard finally appears he just glares at him, at the caos around him and tells him to fuck off. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jean welcomes him home with a bottle of vodka and Neil doesn’t drink, but he’s with Jean and Jean knows everything about him. He downs more than half a bottle before he finally passes out on the sofa.

Neil wakes up to the sound of his phone pinging and pinging and pinging. There’s phone calls, texts, more phone calls and hundreds, probably thousands of twitter notifications. Apparently, drunk Neil had tweeted “a mynyard s a douche” from his official account. Neil groans. Allison is gonna kill him.

Turns out that it’s Kevin Day who tries to kill him.

It goes like this.

When Neil had said that Kevin Day could punch him in the face and he’d thank him, he hadn’t meant it l i t e r a l l y.

And yet he’s at the Christmas gala with his team in South Carolina. He’d thought the 12-hour drive drom Chicago to Columbia would be the worst part of it. But apparently Kevin Day is set on changing his mind.

Neil doesn’t even get to say “Hi” to him before Kevin grabs the collar of his shirt and hoists him up against the wall. He almost chokes him. But it’s the words he utters that really do the thing. “Don’t you ever insult my brother again.”

It’s Nicky Hemmick, the Seakings’ physio, who picks him up off the floor as soon as Kevin leaves. “What the fuck’s wrong with him?” Neil asks while Nicky’s busy checking Kevin hasn’t seriously hurt him. “He’s just a protective asshole.” “But I don’t even know who’s his brother.” “Ever heard of A Minyard?”

And that fucker winks at him, he winks at him.

Neil tells himself that Nicky deserves it when he pushes him away and makes a run for Kevin. If he runs fast enough, he should be able to get to him before Kevin leaves the building. The problem is that, when he catches up to Kevin, he doesn’t even think twice before shouting “I didn’t know he was your brother, but in my defence he really is a douche.”

This time there’s nobody who can help him when Kevin punches him in the face and knocks him out. Sometimes Neil wishes he was born mute.

Things only escalate from that moment on.

Neil wakes up on a hospital bed, Minyard staring down at him. Maybe it’s the painkillers. It must be the painkillers. But he’s pretty sure he hears Minyard saying “if it wasn’t for Andrew, I would’ve left you to die and blamed Kevin,” before he blacks out again.

The second time he wakes up, he just thinks he’s still hallucinating (or maybe he’s dead?) because he sees double. There’s two Minyards staring down at him. He doesn’t even try to make sense of what he’s seeing, he just closes his eyes.

The third time he wakes up, he sees Kevin on his bedside and Neil tries to fake his own death. The ECG beating next to his bed betrays him, though. “I’ve been told I have to apologise if I don’t want a knife between my ribs.”

Kevin begins telling him that he is the adoptive brother of Drew, also known as Andrew Minyard. Who also happens to have a twin brother, Aaron Minyard, neurologist by day and fake-Andrew by night. Who didn’t really like the idea of anyone lying to his twin. That’s why he’d been rude to him in Chicago.

And would he please, please, talk with Andrew because he’s become insufferable since Neil had stopped texting him? He’s been threatening to kill Aaron at least twice as much as he used to.

“He even said that he’s miscalculated everything, you had a crush on me and didn’t like him at all -“ “Fuck’s sake NO, I wouldn’t touch your pompous ass with ten feet pole.”

And it’s at that point that Andrew barges into the hospital room telling Kevin to shut up. Looks Neil in the eyes, says “you just because of what you said to Kevin” and then he kisses him. He kisses him.

Years and years later, after some more pining, thousands of kisses and a key to an apartment in Chicago, Andrew would say that he had not done such a thing. But he had, oh he had.

Years and years later Andrew would also admit that the main character of the Tragic Waste of Skin saga was actually inspired by Neil. Apparently, he’d seen Neil’s face on one of Kevin’s sports mags, he’d read the transcript of the interview that had made a goalkeeper cry on tv and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

Years and years later Andrew would write the final book of his saga. The dedication would say: “To Neil, Marry me? Yes or no? Drew”

Years and years later Neil would tweet from his official account “a minyard’s still a douche”. Attached to the tweet a photo of Andrew glaring at the camera with his hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate, a wedding ring on his finger.

#all for the game #aftg #andreil #tfc #aftg fic #andreil fic #andreil au #mine*

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jeonsdear · 4 years

Note

I’ve heard of the foxhole court and I’ve been kinda interested in reading it but also hesitant to buy it since I don’t know if I’ll like it.. but you talking about it makes me interested in it again. Do you want to give a summary without spoiling any plots? I’ve heard it has like mental health themes and.. murder? Does it have romance in it too? What about adult content? I hope I’m not bothering you with this! I want to find more books to fall in love with. Thank u for your time 🤍

I was really surprised by the book series because I binge-read the entire thing and I hadn’t done that in a very long time.

The series is basically about a bunch of very unfortunate boys and girls (age 18-23) with dark and abusive pasts that get a second chance playing Exy (a sport that does not exist in real life) in a college team.

I think the blurb of the first books sums it up quite nicely:

Neil Josten is the newest addition to the Palmetto State University Exy team. He's short, he's fast, he's got a ton of potential—and he's the runaway son of the murderous crime lord known as The Butcher. Signing a contract with the PSU Foxes is the last thing a guy like Neil should do. The team is high profile and he doesn't need sports crews broadcasting pictures of his face around the nation. His lies will hold up only so long under this kind of scrutiny and the truth will get him killed. But Neil's not the only one with secrets on the team. One of Neil's new teammates is a friend from his old life, and Neil can't walk away from him a second time. Neil has survived the last eight years by running. Maybe he's finally found someone and something worth fighting for.

Keep in mind that this series can get really dark. The characters are VERY morally grey and usually, that’s not something I enjoy but I adored this book. I don’t know what it is. Maybe the gay. Who knows.

Here are some tags I feel like you could use to determine whether you wanna read it:

friends like family, murder, mafia, torture, abuse, (child) rape, mental illness, addiction, very morally grey characters, gay boys, sports, very slow burn romance, homophobia

“I’ve heard it has like mental health themes and.. murder? Does it have romance in it too? What about adult content?“

1. Almost everyone in this team has serious mental health issues. No one gets cured. Often it’s used as an excuse. But to be honest, I think that’s quite fair considering what those kids went through. 2. There’s a lot of murder, abuse and torture. If you’re triggered by rape be careful. The rape isn’t explicit but the murder, abuse and torture is. 3. Romance? Yes but it’s not a focus, VERY slow burn, gay and it’s not your conventional romance. It took me ages to figure out who was supposed to start liking each other haha. But I’m obsessed with the pairing. 4. Adult content? A couple of blowjobs and handjobs. Kissing.

Here are a couple of quotes to give you a hint:

“It’s not the world that’s cruel. It’s the people in it.”

“God damn it, Minyard. This is why we can't have nice things.”

“It’s about second chances, Neil. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you.”

“Family means something different with us because it has to. It's not about blood. It's not even about who we like. It's about who Andrew's willing to protect.”

“Keys meant Neil had explicit permission to be here and do what he liked. They meant he belonged.”

“Exy was a bastard sport, an evolved sort of lacrosse on a soccer-sized court with the violence of ice hockey, and Neil loved every part of it.”

“Andrew was smiling, but Neil knew his cheer didn't mean he was going to play nice. He'd been smiling when he smashed a racquet into Neil's stomach, too.”

And here’s a fanart hehe:

Also, if you do read it feel free to come and talk to me about it whenever. I miss people talking to me about books.

#can u tell i loved this series lmao #here you go i hope this helped #qa #anons #the foxhole court #tfc #aftg #Anonymous

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jemej3m · 6 years

Text

What now? (p3)

where they finally establish a routine.

Neil watched with forcefully detached disdain as Robin showed Kevin the ropes of Exy: His reluctance grew as he watched Kevin catch on straight away. Then he realised that:

a) Kevin was an incredibly quick learner, and

b) Kevin was thoroughly enjoying himself.

That meant he was most likely going to join the team. Neil stood behind the plexiglass and waited with his fingers strung together behind his head, waiting for the kids to scramble off court for a break.

He didn’t truly have anything against Kevin. It was just the idea of being forced to encounter Andrew Minyard multiple times a week and consequently being driven up the wall.

Some of the kids’ parents were hellish to deal with, yes. But none blatantly voiced their dislike of Neil, or looked at him like he’d be fun to run over.

It was between seasons: He usually did team reviews so that new kids could try out and get onto the waiting lists for the fall season next September: Then he’d form a team of those new-comers to practise together throughout the spring season, occasionally versing his league teams as practise. Right now, he was watching a bunch of kids scrimmage and cause an absolute ruckus of themselves: He always let them have a free-for-all at the end of tryouts, to work off the stress and anxiety that being tested always granted.

Parents were no longer watching avidly in the stands, instead, mingling with one another.

Neil bashed his fist against the plexiglass, waving them off the court. They filed off sullenly, packing up their things and saying goodbye to one another as they sipped on water bottles and snacked on fruits and granola bars.

Robin sidled up to him, smiling through her exhaustion. “So?”

“What.” He said, flatly.

“Can he join?” She pointed to Kevin. “He’s very good. He’s going to be better than me. Because he’s taller. I think.” She frowned.

He frowned. “He can join, if he’d like to.”

“My team?” She bounced excitedly.

He looked at her with veiled exasperation. No, he’d say for the millionth time. Teams were divided up into ages, but Robin was in 1sts, and Kevin would be placed into the newcomer’s team for the next fall season.

“Kevin! Kevin! Neil says you can join.” Robin waved the young boy over, who was aimlessly pushing hair out of his eyes as he untied his shoes. He looked up, sheepish, as he shuffled over. He’d be taller than Neil in the next few years. That wasn’t surprising: Most kids in Neil’s older teams were taller than him.

“I’d like to.” Kevin said. “But I don’t think Dad will let me.”

Neil frowned. “Why?”

“He doesn’t like you.” Kevin pouted. “Because apparently you’re an idiot.”

Neil glowered. “Is he picking you up tonight, Kevin?”

Kevin nodded.

That’s how Neil found himself marching over to Andrew Minyard’s sleek, black sport’s car, rapping harshly on the tinted glass with Kevin cowering a few feet away, and an angry little Robin at Neil’s elbow.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” The sarcastic drawl of Andrew’s voice made the hair at the back Neil’s neck stand. He felt his fingers curl against the smooth leather, hoping that his fingers scratched the stupid car and left some sort of mark on the arrogant bastard’s materialistic pride and joy.

“Whatever problem you have with me,” Neil snapped. “It’s entirely unjust to not let Kevin join the activity he wants to because of it. Grow up, pull your head out of your ass, and think about what’s the best for your child.”

Andrew gazed at him coldly and said nothing. Kevin scrambled into his father’s car, curled into the corner furthest from Neil, behind his dad.

Neil stood back, letting Andrew wind up the window. He watched as the car left.

“Will he let Kevin join the team?” Robin worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. Neil took her tiny hand in his own.

“I don’t know, Robin.” He said truthfully.

It had Andrew frothing with anger. How dare he tell Andrew what was best for his own damned kid. Like he was a better parent than Andrew, like he had more experience, like he wasn’t just as fucked up and terrified of making his own kid’s childhood hellish and continuing the cycle of abuse.

Andrew had never forbade Kevin from playing exy in the first place!

Asshole. Fuck him. Fuck him!

“Andrew, seriously. Just fuck him.” Nicky examined his nails, tutting at how he’d already chipped his manicure. “Your anger is clearly just pent-up sexual tension. When was the last time you had sex?”

“Gross.” Aaron complained through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Fuck you.” Andrew grumbled, sinking lower into his chair. It was Tuesday night, Family night, where Aaron left his white-picket-fence and perfect wife, and Nicky spent his night off. They usually did it at Nicky’s apartment, but he was in the middle of packing up to move into his boyfriend’s apartment.

Kevin was fast-asleep upstairs, having worn himself out playing that stupid sport. It might be good for him to join a team sport, Andrew considered. It would also mean he’d go to sleep easier, if he was tired. There was nothing stopping him from joining the team, except maybe Andrew had made his opinion of Neil Josten too obvious, and then Kevin had gone talking, and now he had Neil-Too-Hot-For-His-Own-Fucking-Good-Josten barking up his ass about parenting.

Fucking hell.

“He does sound like a massive asshole, though.” Nicky winked at him. “Though I’m not the one attracted to smart-mouths.”

“Fuck off, Nicky.”

“I’m trying to watch the game, here.” Aaron said, only mildly irritated. “Nicky, shut your damned mouth. Andrew, stop being such a hypocrite. Kevin, are you okay?”

Andrew shot up to look at his son, who had covertly snuck down the stairs from his room. He had a small fox plushie in his arms, his hair a wild mess. Andrew would need to cut it again soon.

“Sorry, Dad.” He curled his shoulders in. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Andrew stood immediately, ignoring Nicky as he stage whispered “God, I still can’t get over how cute that is.” He took Kevin into the kitchen and sat him on a barstool, getting cocoa out of the cupboard and milk from the fridge. Luckily, Kevin liked no sugar in his, so it wouldn’t keep him up any longer than necessary.

“Nightmare?”

Kevin shook his head.

Andrew leaned onto the counter opposite him. “Kevin, is this about Robin Josten’s father?”

“Why don’t you like him?” Kevin burst out. “I really want to play exy, and I know that there are other teams than Robin’s team, but I liked playing with Robin, and there are other kids from school on the team, but you don’t like him, so -”

“Kevin.” Andrew said, calmly. “You can join Robin’s team. I would never stop you from doing so. It’s the most localised team anyway, and they’re very good.”

“But why don’t you like Coach Josten?” Coach Josten, oh my god. Andrew had a sudden, inappropriate mental image of Neil Josten in small running shorts and a low-cut tank top. Jesus Christ.

“When you and Robin were fighting at school, her father and I weren’t very friendly to one another.” Andrew put his entwined hands under his chin. “I just wanted to protect you from someone who was being mean to you. But if you and Robin are friends, I’ll try and get along with her father for you.”

Kevin sipped on his hot cocoa. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Andrew stood up. “Okay. Good. Did Robin’s father say how to apply for the team?”

“His name is Neil.” Kevin supplied, unhelpfully.

“Right.” Andrew said, drily. “Fantastic.”

So much for avoiding the fucker.

The South Carolina Exy League, who had ordained Neil as the Exy junior’s coach, owned Columbia’s court and had provided him with a small office on the second floor of the facility. It was a really nice court, which was well-kept, the expenditures mostly from the adult’s league. Neil’s office was just as well-kept, though that was out of his own pocket. It meant the funds for the kids’ teams could be kept to the minimum, so he didn’t mind.

Usually people knocked at his door when it was closed, so when the door banged open, Neil was already expecting the worst.

Andrew threw the application papers onto Neil’s desk. The suit blazer was tight across broad shoulders, and everything about him screamed expensive, down to the shine of his shoes. He must have presented in court.

“Fuck my son around and I’ll kill you.” Andrew warned. “Don’t tell me how to fucking parent, either.”

Neil huffed. “Fabulous impression that you’re giving off here.”

He pointed at Neil. “Don’t test me.” The door slammed behind him.

Well. That was that.

lmao what a mess

#single parent au #dad!andrew #dad!neil #kid!kevin #kid!robin #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #aftg #jem writes

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notetoself-thisisserious · 6 years

Text

I saw a post on here about Andrew threatening Katelyn being OOC in Canon (because of his protective nature, as shown by Neil's standpoint) and it specifically said to write your own post if in disagreement, which is perfectly fair.

I totally agree with the blogger, that the whole situation with Katelyn is awful and degrading to a perfectly loving and wholesome female character.

However, I do have to disagree with it being OOC.

First, it's referenced that Andrew Minyard has threatened Aaron's girlfriends in the past.

Also consider: Andrew Minyard is a petty bastard.

Without delving back into the books for more references, there is a medicated Andrew tapping his fingers and making Neil wait for agreement to talk to him just because he can (when Neil asks about Thanksgiving for Nicky)

And a sober Andrew dropping Neil's keys off the roof of the tower just to make Neil go down to retrieve them because Andrew was annoyed that Neil used himself against him (after the Allison assault)

Also, Andrew scorching a hole in Neil's skirt with a flicked cigarette when Neil makes a deal with him not to use crackers anymore (to replace his car)

It IS OOC for our veiw of Andrew being violent only in response to violence. But it is totally in character for the Andrew who made a deal with his brother to stick together out of pure spite (the first time may have been more legit - maybe--but the second time around it was pure spite because of course Andrew had no interest in associating outside his group)

((honestly, I think if Aaron had the balls back then to stand up to Andrew, he would have been legit to argue against Kevin))

Also, Andrew Minyard is not a good person.

He is a victim of continuous and awful abuse who is fighting against outside influence and himself to survive.

He's not a Knight in shining armor or a protector of the weak. He protects those who have value to him and uses his deals as a form of control. Everyone else is none of his concern

We see Andrew from Neil's POV, but from an outsiders, it would be seen as controlling and unhealthy. (Neil even questioned it in the beginning, with the cousins and Kevins willingness to jump at Andrews command)

So the assault on Katelyn (which is definitely assault) does disillusion us to the protective picture Neil paints.

However, it does portray the side of Andrew that is petty and ruthlessly unapologetic in his extreme actions. (as reference in the other Foxes comments and some extra content)

Andrew Minyard is petty as fuck.

So when Andrew says to Katelyn that he hopes that she and Aaron are miserable together, it shows Andrew's petty side that reminds us that he is, infact, not always in control and incredibly (brokenly) human.

It is justified in Neil's POV, because that poor boy has so much violence and abuse in his background, but from any outsider standpoint it is seen as (and definitely is) totally wrong.

(Neil even prepared himself as a barrier in this scene, trying to show Katelyn that he was there as back up ((I'm sure it didn't seem that way to Katelyn))

So, in conclusion, I don't think that Andrews assault on Katelyn was OOC, but it did show a petty side of him that Neil's POV hadn't truly witnessed before.

#aftg #tfc #all for the game #the foxhole court #andrew minyard

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exy-for-your-ecstasy · 6 years

Note

TFC Prompt: Neil turns into a raven. Literally. An actual raven. Caw-caw and all.

(This is so bad and rushed as fuck but hey you asked for it.)

Andrew wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he received his third cryptic death threat through the mail the other day. Maybe he’d find a dead rat at his door sometime during the week, perhaps whoever the bastard was would be a touch more creative and set something on fire for once.

It certainly wasn’t to come home to find a black winged demon flapping around his living room, pecking at his boyfriend’s Exy racket.

Creative indeed. It caught Andrew by surprise at least, enough to make him stop up short at the door, puzzling over where and how someone might’ve broken in and let loose a fucking raven into his flat.

Andrew dared take his eye off the bird to check the time. If he wasn’t mistaken Neil should’ve been back by now to witness this atrocity. “Josten!” His yell reverberated against the walls. The bird screeched at him and flapped helplessly a few times. Andrew stepped around it to search the kitchen and bedroom, but there was no sign of Neil.

Except from the pool of his clothes by the desk. Andrew frowned as he kicked at Neil’s worn pair of jeans and shirt. Neil wasn’t the type to leave his clothes so haphazardly on the floor. The neat freak was too paranoid for shit and protected his belongings better than a mother hen protected her eggs…

So then why…

Andrew felt the bile crawling up his throat before he could realise how hard his heart hammered against his ribs, the awful but familiar dread that pierced into his gut.

No. No, no, no, not again.

He dug for his phone and called Neil on speed dial. The familiar ringtone sounded from somewhere on the bed. “Motherfucker.” Andrew leapt out of the room, about to dive for his jacket when suddenly, bird swooped across the room. It landed horribly, in a tangle of wings and feathers, right where Andrew’s jacket was folded over the settee.

Andrew flinched and fought the desperate urge to grab the stupid bird by the neck and snap it’s wings. The raven screeched again, high pitched and desperate. Andrew froze in place, hand still outstretched, blood humming agains this ears, his skin, and stared at raven down. The raven stared back…

It had Neil’s blue eyes. But…it couldn’t…

“…Neil?”

The raven did something like a sad nod. And somehow, for some reason, Andrew didn’t doubt it.

His boyfriend had gotten himself turned into a raven.

How would a normal person react to this? Would they have laughed? Cried? Screamed bloody murder? Andrew couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was feeling, all he could do was stare at his bird boyfriend for a endless moment, his brain blank of solution.

Neil the raven blinked back at him, turning his head this way and that.

Finally, Andrew reached out and bared his palm upwards. Neil hopped unsteadily onto Andrew’s fingers, then his palms, spreading his wings to find his balance. “A Raven,” Andrew said, “Hilarious.”

Neil squawked. Andrew flicked his beak. “Calm down.” He said.

Luckily they weren’t expecting any visitors or Skype calls any time soon, even if he wouldn’t put it past Nicky to show up unannounced and uninvited. But Andrew wasn’t one for patience. He wasn’t just going to wait around to see if Neil returned back to normal.

Andrew had a game with Henderson Bulldogs tomorrow, and he could bet his Marserati that one of them had to do with the death threat and whatever this shit was.

Andrew slipped out his phone again and rang a certain coach that still happened to be on speed dial. The man picked up on the second ring.

“[And he’s still alive.]” Wymack droned from the other end. If he was surprised by the rare call then he didn’t show it.

“You sound disappointed.” Andrew said. Neil tilted his head in question; ‘who are you calling?’

“[What is it Minyard, I ain’t got time for—]”

“Neil’s a Raven.”

There was a significant pause. “[Neil Josten will live and die a Fox before he—]”

“He’s a Raven, coach. With wings. Caw-caw and all.”

Another long, dramatic pause. Andrew could hear papers ruffling around in the background, the sound of a chair squeaking. “[I ain’t got time for your shits and giggles, Minyard.]”

“You think I’d call you for shits and giggles?” Andrew jeered and, as if on cue, Neil screeched down the phone and flapped his wings again. Andrew let go of him, but Neil flew to rest against Andrew’s shoulder, head tilting to listen in on the converastion.

“[The fuck was that?]”

“That would be your previous captain.” The more he spoke the more Andrew could feel the irritation brimming at his chest. He was getting itchy with it. “I’d call my own coach but he hasn’t got the same heart as you, dearest David. And this is your player he’s messed with. Not his. So I’ll make this quick. You’ve got ten minutes to threaten the living shit out of the Henderson Bulldogs. If Harry Potter of Exy doesn’t fess up then tell them they’ve got me to deal with at tomorrows. And they won’t come out of it looking pretty.”

Wymack took a deep breath. He must’ve known Andrew wasn’t one for petty phone pranks, especially when Andrew hadn’t called him once since he graduated. “[I’ll call you back.]” The call flat lined.

Andrew sat down with a sad looking raven for a few minutes before a text off Wymack told him that his game with Henderson Bulldogs tomorrow was cancelled, the ‘Harry Potter of Exy’, as he called him, would be suspended, and for them to wait a few minutes before the charm on Neil wore off.

Andrew messaged back: ‘Fucking ‘charm’?’

‘Apparently they put a charm at your front door. Didn’t realise Neil lived with you’

Oh, they were smart to cancel the game tomorrow.

He didn’t bother replying after that. Though he was sure Wymack had sent more questions. “You’re a fucking loser, Josten.” Andrew grumbled. “You’re charmed. Guess you just have to wait it out. Think you can do that?”

Neil tittered across the sofa, hopped onto Andrew’s lap. “I fucking hate birds.” Andrew said.

Neil squawked. Andrew couldn’t tell what he was trying to say, so he hazard a guess. “You cause more trouble then you’re worth.” Andrew ran his finger over Neil’s smooth beak. Neil let him. “I hate ravens more than I hate you.” It was strange being the one doing all the talking. He was so used to Neil mouthing off around him.

Andrew lay across the couch. He was sore to the bone from training, practically had to drag himself in and out of the showers and into his car.

He didn’t know when he stared to dose off. But when Andrew came back to it, he didn’t flinch. Not even with now Neil lying next to him on the couch, warm, calloused hand gripped firmly in his.

Neil’s broad smile greeted him. “You hate ravens more than me?” He said.

Andrew didn’t bother smiling back but gripped Neil’s hand tighter in his. “On second thought, I liked you better as a bird.”

#prompt #aftg #I TRIED OKAY #I'M SORRY #THIS IS HARD #foxhole court #andrew minyard #Neil Josten

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eggscelsior · 7 years

Text

A Brief History Of Andrew’s Protective Streak

Andrew learned to do stick-and-poke tattoos during juvie. Nothing fancy; he had always been good at sketching, so his line art was crisp, and he could do shading easily enough by filling in the design with less passes of ink. It was amazing how much cooler a pubescent teen thought he looked with a dragon jabbed under his skin in blue ballpoint ink, instead of just doodled on top. That was, in fact, one of the top requests. Andrew considered it distastefully ironic - Dragon, Draco, Drake.

He was amused by the idea of stabbing “Drake” hundreds of times in black and blue. But why would anyone want that permanently etched into their body? Andrew had given himself enough marks to remind himself of the opposite: that Drake was temporary, that he could be outlasted. Andrew’s marks were carved as a distraction, dulling one kind of pain by making a fresher, sharper, controlled version. They were for endurance, not aesthetic. He covered his marks with black armbands, not filled them with ink. They were necessary but nothing to be proud of. Andrew had no urge to give himself a tattoo. But the favors he garnered in trade for his skill were invaluable.

~~~

No one had ever kept a promise to Andrew (Cass had maybe tried), and with a lack of any real thing worth living for, he’d decided to create his own value by keeping promises to others, as long as he gained something from it. Andrew made a business out of promising tattoos and following through. He was good at them. And he was good at protecting his goal, because it got him out of the juvie facility one Friday a month for “away” games.

And he might be good at protecting people, if they were people he decided mattered, and that felt…slightly more worthwhile than anything else. There was something in the concept of being needed that made living a bit more tolerable, a bit less boring. He'd hated the idea of a carbon copy brother that had been needed by the woman that birthed them in a way that she hadn't needed Andrew. He'd wanted no part of that shit. He had Cass. Aaron was not his problem. Aaron did not matter.

But then Drake had gotten interested. "Let him visit." "I want to meet him too." "All three of us will be brothers." "Twins are every man's fantasy, AJ. "You'll look so perfect in my bed together.” And suddenly Aaron needed Andrew, even if he didn't know it. Andrew was shocked how vehemently this hit him, how important a priority it immediately presented itself as. The first person who genuinely needed him. It was up to Andrew to keep the carbon copy cleaner than the original. No one deserved Drake, and this was something only he could be relied upon to protect against.

The only way to prevent Drake from eventually convincing Cass to have Aaron come visit, with or without Andrew’s approval, was to remove himself as well. He was used to being hurt, and to hurting himself, so he could handle this loss. Cass wanted to keep him but she didn't need him, like Aaron. So he did what he had to do and landed himself in juvie.

Then he actually met Aaron. Aaron’s mouth listed off the name of some girlfriend – his identical twin was straight? Huh. – and the name of a high school and a position as backliner on the school Exy team, blah blah blah small talk, but Andrew took one glance at the long sleeves and jeans during California summer – there was the edge of a bruise at the collarbone – and the posture – defeated – and the behavior – jittery, twitchy, he’d seen too many inmates crashing to not know Aaron was on drugs that were both addictive and strong enough to kill – and he decided that this carbon copy needed continued protection, lest he end up as marked up as Andrew after all, just by someone else's hand than Drake's.

“Uncle” Luther wanted to help “save” him from juvie, but wanted to send him back to Cass. He needed to go where Aaron was, so he shared a truth that he’d never wanted to voice out loud. Luther did not believe him, immediately marking himself off Andrew’s list of people who had a chance to matter due to blood proximity. Instead he guilted a promise out of the minister to keep other children out of Drake’s reach “in case they’re as incapable as me at ‘judging brotherly affection’ and would come out just as traumatized” and drummed up a cavalry march in Luther’s meddling missionary heart to bring Andrew “home” to his “mother” and brother.

Then he called in a lot of hoarded favors from his tattoo business: “accidental” conversations held within earshot of wardens that painted him in a good light, or at least, in a bad light with the bad crowds. A staged fight that he broke up peacefully, with sharp words and sharper stares, instead of with the fists the wardens knew he was so good with and the shivs he’d only ever been suspected of having. He even had a couple of recommendations from guards that had been impressed enough with his art to get inked by him themselves.

Pristine behavior, a winning streak for the Exy team, and his list of favors wouldn’t take too long to rattle up a parole hearing.

~~~

He was out of juvie, and he was busy. He had joined Aaron’s high school Exy team to keep an eye on him; it was still difficult to pin down all the times Aaron managed to pop pills, so he required observation. Andrew had made a very pointed promise to Aaron’s mother and was arranging to keep his promise because she wouldn’t fucking listen.

~~~

Tilda was dead, finally. It had been ruled an accident, as planned. Aaron was no longer attempting to speak to him, which was fine. He did not require his brother’s approval, just his dependence, and Andrew had fulfilled the promise to protect him. Aaron’s unexpected grief over his waste-of-oxygen mother was annoying, so Aaron glowering from across the room was better than Aaron grieving loudly.

Now was a good a time as any to get Aaron sober. It wasn’t like his twin could fill any more of Tilda’s prescriptions now that she was dead, and Andrew didn’t intend to let him go questing for more sources. So Andrew locked him in a bathroom with canned food – he tossed in Spaghetti-O’s along with the soups and green beans because he wasn’t a monster – and a pillow and waited for sixteen days.

He met with the lawyer in the meantime and signed off for the life insurance payout - A. Minyard. Not a lie. He bought the cheapest cremation possible and tossed the urn on Luther's front lawn for the bastard to make funeral plans around. He bought a car to replace the one he'd made Tilda wreck and put the car’s insurance policy in his own full name. He left Aaron's off. Aaron could depend on him to drive them.

Aaron emerged silent, sober, and craving grease. Andrew drove them to Sweetie's. His twin said nothing about the car, and Andrew didn't offer the spare key of a ninety grand vehicle to a just-barely-ex-drug-addict. There was no point bolstering temptation with means and opportunity.

Then Nicky showed up from Germany. Interesting, that his brother somehow turned out straight but his newfound cousin had managed to worm a gay gene out of Luther and Maria’s chromosomes. Less interesting was Nicky being a fucking chatterbox, making up for Aaron’s blessed silence in a way that no one asked for, as well as Nicky’s complete inability to defend himself even as he assumed guardianship of the twins.

Andrew did not have time to exchange a promise with Nicky in advance, he was too busy beating these four men who’d dared hurt his cousin like they were every man who had ever laid a hand on Andrew without consent. There were a lot of those. That meant a lot of beating. He nearly lost himself in the all-consuming violence tearing out of his core, and came out of the incident with a string of therapists and a bottle of literal happy pills.

They fractured his emotions from his rationality. He spent days with his eyes opened to how amusing and engaging the world could truly be, and then slowly he started to recognize the sick feeling in his gut and the constant edge of a headache throbbing in the base of his skull to the tune of but why is it funny? It’s not. It’s not funny. Stop it. Stop laughing. Stop laughing. STOP.

He became the dead hollow space rotting out the inside of a laughing shell. Why was he living, again? Oh. Promises. Protection. That was about all his brain could hold onto firmly while he was trying to scrape the corners of his ill-fitting smile off his own face with his fingernails. Weeks of practice tamed the giggles down to silent, hard-edged smiles. He could hear the world around his own laughter again.

God, who wouldn’t he kill to stop taking this medication? His brother. He needed to be needed. His cousin too, apparently. The promise was silent but he’d already paid out, so Nicky was his now. The rest of the world could fucking burn.

Aaron was edging away, though, drowning in the misplaced grief he refused to get over. But then Aaron’s girlfriend slapped him, yelled at him for not paying enough attention to her, grabbed his wrist too hard and bruised it. Aaron’s eyes said he couldn’t hit a woman. Andrew didn’t care if it was moral or a psychological remnant of Aaron’s mother’s abuse. A new promise was forged. Aaron was cemented at Andrew’s side through graduation. Andrew broke the girl’s arm and delivered the same promise he’d made Aaron’s mother. The girl quit school.

There were several other girls. Andrew struck preemptively at each. Aaron was his now, he had promised. His to protect. Something to continue living for. Women were nothing but trouble. They turned Aaron into a useless victim. Aaron hated him for his proactive violence, but Andrew only needed dependence to give him a purpose in life, after all.

~~~

And then the fucking Sons of Exy showed up and delivered a grand invite to join the Ravens after graduation.

First of all, it was laughable that they thought he’d leave the brother he was protecting behind to play a worthless sport.

Second of all, he was solidly unimpressed by Riko and Kevin. They were obsessed with Exy, and Exy to him had started as a literal temporary escape from prison and ended up a babysitting gig for his beat up strung out brother.

And third, their tattoos were tacky, unstylized computer font numbers, and unreflective of each boy’s potential in their chosen field. He informed Kevin of this quite pointedly, detailing his lack of interest in someone determined to make a career of coming in second, and the flash of fear in Kevin’s eyes at the implication of holding himself back to second place was…not quite amusing, and only vaguely interesting. It was not his problem. Kevin did not matter.

~~~

When graduation approached, Andrew paid attention. Nicky wanted to go back to Germany. Andrew hadn’t met and didn’t trust Erik, and wanted to delay that as long as possible. Worse, Aaron wanted to run off to college and be a doctor. Lofty goals for someone with shit grades after putting the high in high school several dozen times too many. He’d still try, though. He’d end up in a community college God knows where, no longer bound to Andrew’s side via their promise.

Andrew would not survive his medication without someone to protect.

When Wymack came knocking, Andrew seized the chance and reaped profit all around. Wymack agreed to let him bring his not-great-but-at-least-experienced family along on academic scholarship, and quietly agreed to let Andrew off his drugs for games. He’d seen tapes of Andrew before and after being assigned the pills, so he knew it was to his mutual benefit.

Aaron would get into college, shit GPA or no. The promise was reinstated another four years. Hopefully he’d learned his lesson on the last set of girls.

Andrew called in the favor for protecting his cousin and waited to see if Nicky would disappoint. Nicky waffled, he called his boyfriend-fiancé-whatever to get advice, and he finally caved and agreed a business degree would be good for him.

The drugs would wear off in two years. His promises would hold a little longer. Andrew had no fucking clue what he was going to do after that, but thinking about the future was a waste of time when he spent every spare minute keeping the Joker-laugh restricted to his face and out of his sane mind.

~~~

When Kevin showed up at Palmetto at the beginning of the spring semester with a shattered hand, looking as hollow as Andrew’s own chuckling corpse, he became a thing that mattered.

He promised Andrew a love of Exy – not feasible, but if protecting his goal could magically become a worthwhile purpose, then at least he’d have something to live for after his cousin and brother abandoned ship – and Andrew promised to keep him. Kevin’s life story was vaguely interesting, and Andrew wouldn’t mind breaking some parts of Riko permanently. He didn’t like abusers of his possessions. He stole Kevin’s phone, called up the prick, and made him some promises that involved ending up as bruised and bloody as his school colors. He hoped Riko wouldn’t listen.

~~~

When Neil Josten actually showed up at Palmetto after all promises otherwise, Andrew paid attention. Neil very quickly went from something pretty and mouthy that Andrew wanted to break for something akin to fun, to something he wanted to break to keep his protective promise to Kevin, and finally to something Andrew was going to keep for himself.

Neil's lies were aggravating. Trying to pick the truths out of the lies was interesting enough to keep him engaged. They made a game out of it. Neil was cheating; half the truths he said were not 100% truth. Picking those out was even more difficult. The idea of pushing Neil into full honesty – or at least approaching the asymptote, as one could only know another human being so well – was actually…more entertaining than he wanted another person to be. It felt like power over him.

He liked his foibles to be predictable: cigarettes, 20 to a pack, consumed at a speed he dictated. Crackers, consumed per the quantity that he ordered. Not Neil, who he always seemed to want more out of. More what, he didn’t know yet. He just knew that he gave away far too much information and far too much ground to this half-lie and what he got in return was not enough.

~~~

He was starting to understand what he wanted from Neil. He wanted another Roland. Lithe body, quick wit, good for occasional sexual impulses.

Except Neil didn’t swing, so that was out. It was a good thing Neil was holding Kevin anchored in Palmetto, or he wouldn’t be worth keeping, Andrew told himself.

And yet somehow Neil kept working more out of Andrew than he’d rightfully earned. An extra secret, on credit. Allowing Neil within closer-than-typically-acceptable proximity because he liked breathing Andrew’s smoke. Halloween with the upperclassmen. Dinner with Nicky’s worthless parents.

What the fuck was he giving so much away for?

The answer danced between them for a breath at Exites. He smacked a hand over Neil’s mouth and wasn’t quite sure which of them he was censoring, but the result was the same.

~~~

Drake. DRAKE.

He wasn’t even sure he was conscious. Everything was black, but that might have been a pillow? It was hard to breathe?

There, there was the old familiar pain. He was laughing. He watched his body react irrationally from the inside out. His hollow innards were infinite, pushing out against a heaving, giggling shell that was cracking.

~~~

Aaron. He hadn’t protected Aaron. There was blood on Aaron.

Aaron wasn’t hurt? Why was Aaron touching him. Why was he being touched?

Luther. He made his speech to Luther. Words years in the making.

The fucking drugs were sucking the vindication out of his voice, replacing it with a kind of sick, casual conversational pitch mixed with inane glee.

Sirens. He took off his knives. He already felt so exposed, and it had been only seconds.

Neil was touching him. Why?

No, the scars were personal. Neil hadn’t shared his, why the fuck should he be touching Andrew’s? A promise was delivered. Neil listened and let go.

Huh.

People were talking and his head was going to split open. The drugs were winding down and he was retaining snatches of the hospital room that he didn’t want to keep. A rape kit. Why? Drake was caught in the act AND dead. Intrusive. No. He punched the orderly. He was cuffed to the bed.

Outside he grinned at the expressions on the faces of this group of men he’d kept. He wanted to wipe them all off. His. Theirs. Fuck his chemical smile. Fuck their pity. Men didn’t depend on someone they pitied, and that was all Andrew had to live for. Fuck the drugs.

Bee wanted him off the drugs. He knew there was a reason he kept her around. But…he had promises to keep, and that took precedence. He was used to pain.

Abram. He challenged it just to be sure, but it felt true. He liked truth.

Oh. Neil let Andrew touch his scars, and wow. He’d survived a fair bit, it felt like. Those were true, too. Neil promised to keep Kevin alive, even though he was so prone to running himself, and Andrew thought of the way Neil had actually let go of his arm when Andrew told him to. It was just enough to make him trust, but only barely. Only temporarily. Only in the absence of any other viable solution.

It was time to get clean. Finally.

~~~

He fell back into old survival habits under Proust's hands. In the moments Proust “worked” on him, he distanced himself, like watching something bad happen to a stranger. He couldn't look away, but it wasn't happening to him. Afterward, he reiterated the promises Proust had ignored.

He spent group sessions silent and planning how to keep those promises. He spent individual sessions talking just enough to show them he was making progress towards release. He stole the absurdly heavy tungsten paperweight off the desk of the doctor weaning his drug dosage to aid the exercises he did in his room.

He got clean.

~~~

God. Fuck. The blue eyes were one thing, the hair was criminal. This was going to be a problem. Neil was still here, and he was pretty bruised up, so apparently he’d kept his promise against something without running away. Andrew was content with that. That story would probably be more interesting than a status report on the rest of the outside world, so he put it off till last and commanded Nicky to fill him in on everything else.

~~~

Neil had gone to Evermore. If he hadn’t outright broken his promise to stay by Kevin’s side and protect him, then he’d bent it over backward and fucked it with a rusted fork. Kevin had only been safe from Riko because Riko had been too busy with Neil.

Neil had marks from his past that he’d pressed Andrew’s fingers to, marks Andrew had considered intriguing but dismissed readily enough because it was before his time, before his promise. But this. He smashed the band-aid back against Neil’s cheek, unable to look at the tattoo any longer without needing to punch something, and Neil had been punched enough in the last two weeks to account for several lifetimes.

Andrew hadn’t protected Neil from this tattoo. Andrew couldn’t, because he was getting unfucked in the head and Neil had been a stupid fucking martyr. Proust. Neil had gotten this mark for Andrew, because of Andrew.

Neil had a tattoo that Andrew hadn’t put there. Riko had touched something that belonged to Andrew. Andrew hadn’t protected what was his.

Andrew scaled back the gaping chasm of rage. He wanted to slide out one of his newly-returned knives and carve the fucking tattoo off of Neil’s face. Neil looked like he wouldn’t mind. He scaled further back. He wanted to tattoo over it. Neil probably wouldn’t mind. He scaled further back. He would not do anything to Neil’s face right now because it would cause an adverse reaction from the shitstain roosting in Evermore.

Andrew was a creature that endured. He had patience. He’d kill Riko for this, eventually. For now he needed to focus on what was in front of him. He needed to focus on Neil, on making Neil promise to at least not purposely counteract his own safety.

“If it means losing you, then no.”

Damn the boy. He threw Neil’s keys off the roof and nearly threw himself off two minutes later when Neil wrapped his lips around Andrew’s cigarette filter. Andrew didn’t want a few of his skin cells touching Neil’s mouth, he wanted his tongue between Neil’s lips instead of that cigarette.

Neil’s auburn hair glinted in the sunlight and Andrew was not happy to realize that this was going to be different from Roland, if it was anything at all.

And it wasn't anything. How many times had Neil reinforced that he didn't swing? Neil wasn't flirting with that move. It meant nothing.

~~~

Abram, thought Andrew the first time he felt like touching himself after... everything that had happened in rehab. Abram. Cute old fashioned Christian name. Neil was probably circumcised. He wondered if Neil’s pubic hair had any of that pretty auburn tinge or if it was darker. He thought about Neil's lithe runner’s body and flat stomach and he pictured touching Neil's scars in a way that would make the boy shiver with desire instead of disgust. He wanted to see them.

He wondered how many practices he would get away with sabotaging before someone thought to try sending Neil on court to bargain with him.

Two, it turned out. He didn't hesitate to make his demand. Neil barely hesitated before agreeing.

~~~

He liked touching Neil’s marks of survival, but made sure to keep his touch impersonal. Andrew wondered which of them had more scars in total. Neil’s were obviously larger, and he found himself interested in their stories. The words leaving Neil's mouth were carefully measured and haunted, but they rang true. Andrew didn't feel like he was giving away more than he was getting, this time. He was getting closer to Neil's asymptote and it felt rewarding.

~~~

After admitting his physical attraction to the walking Exy disaster he’d been idiotic enough to keep - the miniature one, to clarify between the two - Andrew went through five cigarettes and spent Roland’s thirty-minute “lunch” break in the back room making out with and then blowing Roland close enough to heaven to yank out one of God’s omnipotent fucking leg hairs, and by the time he was done he had to admit to himself that he was picturing Neil the whole fucking time.

Neil was just a shiny new toy that he was being deprived of blowing. This was nothing.

~~~

It was probably nothing, anyway. At least the one kiss was nice, before Neil had a panic attack.

~~~

The kisses were very nice, actually, and touching Neil’s cock was very nice, and Neil’s orgasm face was actually kind of attractive, and Neil didn’t touch what he wasn’t supposed to. And when Andrew finally got bored, he could always go back to effortless, no-strings Roland.

~~~

This was nothing. This would never be a this.

~~~

“Anything,” Neil promised in return for something as silly as actual effort from Andrew at Exy. He could decide what he’d tattoo over Neil’s number after they won. He had a goal to shut down.

~~~

This would never be a this because Neil was gone, Neil was fucking gone, Neil was a hollow shell saying “thank you” but meaning “goodbye” and then HE WAS FUCKING GONE—

~~~

Neil’s tattoo was gone. Andrew wanted to vomit. Andrew also almost wanted to smile. Riko’s mark was gone from his property, his Neil. Fuck everything, Neil was alive, he could think later. For now, he had to keep the FBI’s filthy hands off his Neil and take him home.

~~~

Neil lay on his back in their bed in Columbia almost a year later. Andrew smoked by the window, watching contentedly as Neil drew lazy patterns against his own shirt.

“I’ve been thinking a lot…about getting a tattoo,” Neil said suddenly, but quietly, like it was a confession. It was almost a question. Andrew’s opinion obviously mattered, though Neil should be perfectly aware by now that Andrew’s interest would not be swayed by the quantity or type of marks marring his skin.

Andrew arched an eyebrow to indicate he should continue.

"I thought I'd never want one after Riko's, but the more I’ve considered it, the more I want to memorialize certain things on my skin. Marks I choose for myself, for once."

Memorialize. So help him, if Neil wanted his mother's name they were going to have a fight. Another useless, abusive female, surprise surprise. And people wondered why he didn't trust them as a rule.

“…A pair of crossed keys. The house key and…I haven’t decided which of the car keys yet, actually. The GS was “first” first, but the Maserati was the first one you trusted to me alone.”

Oh. Andrew exhaled a long stream of smoke in Neil’s direction as he considered this, watching it dissipate as it crossed the room. “Cars and houses change. The basic shape of the two key types don’t. Don’t be so specific. How badly do you want this?”

Neil thought about it seriously. “I’d get it today if I didn’t have one major problem: I’m not going to trust some random tattoo artist to look at my chest, and I want it here.” He touched himself to indicate.

Dead over his heart. Fucking romantic. Andrew sat up from where he leaned against the window, stubbed out his cigarette, and grabbed his laptop. He pulled up a YouTube video demonstrating stick-and-poke tattoos so that his skittish boyfriend wouldn’t bolt, and then walked out of the room to gather the supplies.

Neil was wide-eyed when he made it back to the room with a bucket of gathered up equipment and pulled out a new sewing needle, a pencil, thread, tape, and ink, along with sterilizing supplies. "You're not seriously suggesting I get an amateur tattoo with pen ink and a needle."

"Tattoo ink." Andrew shook the bottle at him, and then set it down to swab his desk off with a paper towel soaked in rubbing alcohol. "Much better than ballpoint, and I've done plenty of good tattoos in ballpoint. You're not getting an amateur tattoo."

Neil scooted over to the end of the bed by the desk as Andrew lined up his supplies. “You have no tattoos.” Neil had earned the privilege of seeing Andrew fully naked about seven months after moving into Andrew’s room.

“I did it ‘professionally’ in juvie, and I was good enough that some of the guards even wanted a free tattoo done, so they got me real tattoo ink. This is a sealed bottle,” he assured Neil, tapping the lid.

Neil considered all of this. “You don’t do anything for free.”

“No. But favors go a long way in a prison.”

Neil nodded and obediently took his shirt off when Andrew flicked his fingers. He lay back down again, but tensed when Andrew disinfected the skin with brisk scrubs of an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.

"Relax," Andrew ordered. "I've done hundreds of tattoos." He could feel Neil's pulse thumping rapidly against his fingertips. He uncapped a blue marker and Neil wordlessly dug in his pocket for keys to trace. Andrew shook his head, though, and Neil went still. He'd meant it: they would share more than one car and more than one house in their lives. Neil was memorializing a concept, not specific key teeth. He freehanded a hardware store house key and an unbranded car key in an X over Neil's hammering pulse. “I’m planning black ink with bold lines and some minimal shading. Unless you want something different.”

Neil craned his head up from where he was laying to look. His expression was pleased.

"Any changes?"

Neil thought a moment, then dug in his pocket again. He selected the key to the Foxhole Court and laid it vertically between the other outlines. This one was specific, so Andrew traced the teeth carefully. It was also a hardware store copy like the house key, so he thought a moment, and then drew a fox paw on the head. Neil smiled, wide and soft.

Fuck. He'd had to stop counting months ago. The percentage was getting too ridiculously high. He hated... He hated how Neil made him feel out of control. For years his reason for living had been curating others' dependence on him. Having his own needs and emotions depend so heavily on another person was terrifying, but he'd resigned himself to it.

And it was Neil. He could trust Neil.

“Can we make the paw orange?”

Andrew shook himself out of his own mind. “I’ll get some orange ink online. We’ll fill that in when it arrives.” He rubbed the design down with another alcohol swab followed by petroleum jelly, and then uncapped the bottle of black ink.

Neil froze again when he picked up the needle and sterilized it. He shot his boyfriend an unimpressed stare as he methodically wrapped thread around the tip, and tipped his chin sharply at a scar two inches north of his design. "You've literally been shot, Neil."

"Once. This is a lot of punctures, okay." Neil took a slow, steadying breath.

"It is not a big deal. I've tattooed twelve year olds that handled this with more grace."

"Then why don't you have any, if it's no big deal?" Neil shot back. "I've never even seen a tattoo artist with no tattoos."

Because I've never had anything worth inking, Andrew wanted to argue. But that wasn't entirely true. He'd had a few passing thoughts about the short list of things important enough to keep with him for the rest of his life. The things he was building his life on. Truth. And Neil.

Neil was actually quaking in their bed. He wanted this so much but was so irrationally afraid.

Andrew silently sat in the desk chair and lifted his left arm, propping his elbow on the desk. He gave his inner wrist a swipe with an alcohol swab, just above the arm band, drew what he wanted carefully, and then dipped his needle in ink and began.

It had been a long time, and it was an eye opening experience, marrying together the familiar resistance and yield of skin under the pressure of the needle with the small, sharp pierces that throbbed with his heartbeat in his wrist. On the whole, pricks hurt less than slices. It hurt, but it didn't bleed or linger beyond a raw throb. Neil would be fine. He saw Neil sit up in his peripheral vision, but Neil wasn’t watching the design, he was watching the angle of the needle. Andrew was done stippling the first layer in about five minutes.

“It’s shallower than I thought,” Neil commented when it was safe to speak without distracting Andrew.

“Deep enough to hold the ink, not deep enough to hit blood vessels or let the ink feather over the muscle.” He went over it again, making it darker.

Eventually Neil piped up again. “How did you learn? I thought tattoo artists generally practiced on themselves to figure it out. Who else would let them?”

Andrew kept his eyes on his work, dipping for fresh ink and falling back into the rhythm. Like riding a bike. He’d always been quite efficient and quick with his work. “You don’t learn on skin. You learn on fruit, like bananas and oranges. The peel has skin-like firmness.”

“And…does it hurt?”

Andrew stopped to wipe off the excess ink again, sending Niel a bored look. “Immensely. I am writhing in pain.” Neil shot him a look in return. “It’s just shallow pinpricks, idiot.”

After a third pass and wipe, he eyed it critically. "Yours will take a good deal longer than fifteen minutes because of the size and shading, but.” He twisted his wrist for Neil to see. “Nothing to it."

Copying was easy for him, with his memory. 'Abram' was written in Neil's handwriting.

There was not 'nothing' on Neil's face. Neil's breath hitched, and the sheer emotion in those pretty blue eyes threatened to drown them both.

Andrew covered Neil's eyes when he couldn't stand it anymore, but he bent forward for a lingering kiss at the same time. "Your turn," he murmured against Neil's lips, pressing his palm to Neil's design. Neil's heart was still pounding, though Andrew didn't think it was due to fear anymore. Good enough.

Neil shuddered under his touch and cupped a hand around his wrist, squeezing gently. Andrew let him, and didn't flinch, but he made a note not to touch Neil's tattoo when it was done.

He kissed Neil one more time, then patted his tattoo down with mild soap water, sealed it over with Neosporin and saran wrap. He re-sterilized and threaded his needle, and Neil let him begin to work.

#andreil #aftg #fanfic #up on ao3 if you prefer to read there

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nekojitachan · 4 years

Note

Andrew Joseph Minyard, you incredible Disaster Gay. I get thinking Vixen Noah is a spy for the Ravens/Riko thing, but just bc you believe he’s in a relationship w/ the guy you like (actually siblings, you’ll find that out later) does NOT excuse you tormenting him! OR thinking he’s cheating on Wesninski w/ Moreau! Also-does Riko think Moreau is hooking up w/ the ‘ Vixen wh*re’ & tries to use that to break the friendship b/t Neil/Nathaniel & Jean-only for it to Fail.

Well, we know Andrew tends to be rather heavy-handed when he feels he’s in the ‘right’ and doing what’s best to protect his own/what’s his. Or what he’d like to be his, in Neil’s case.

Riko taunts the heck out of Neil/Nathaniel about his little Vixen boytoy cheating on him with his partner. Jean steps in before his partner can eviscerate the bastard and reminds them in the true Raven partner fashion, they share and share alike as nothing comes between them, knowing that’ll shut Riko up. Then they both go take very long showers to scrub away the sense of disgust that lie leaves them with, even though it worked.

#aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #neil has a twin #riko moriyama #jean moreau #noah wesninski #jean is a good partner #but eewwww #Anonymous

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nickireadstfc · 7 years

Text

The Raven King: A Summary – The Plot Twist King

Shocks and revelations! Sassfests! Backstory awesomeness! Team spirit! The Josten Glow Up™! Me losing my shit! But most importantly – plot.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to sum up The Raven King.

In 2013, now-renowned author Nora Sakavic blessed us with The Raven King, book two of the All For The Game trilogy. In this second installment of orange gay sporty murder shit, ex-runaway, part-time sassmaster, and all-time Exy nerd Neil Josten meets the Edgar Allan Ravens, a team that is exactly as dark and fucked-up as their completely unsubtle name suggests.

Especially Neil has reason to fear them: Star player Riko Moriyama, also known as That Fucker™, and his father Tetsuji are Neil's crime lord father's crime lord bosses and are exactly 0% fooled by his runaway act. However, as Neil is a 100% impulsive savage sassmaster, he consistently picks fights with them anyways, which Riko repays by revealing his true identity to Kevin.

But that's not all there is. Just when the Foxes' start to form some actual team spirit and real friendships, our heroes experience the shock of the century: At the Hemmick's family Thanksgiving, goalie, snarkmaster and court-approved maniac Andrew Minyard is raped by his long-time childhood abuser Drake. In his brother’s defense, Aaron rushes in and kills Drake - a ruse set up by Riko Moriyama.

In order to free his boyfriend teammate from the Moriyama-bribed doctors Andrew was sent to for rehab, Neil agrees to spend Christmas with the Ravens, which is exactly Not A Fun Time. There, he is tortured, abused, cut, burnt, tattooed against his will and generally made to look as if he had a fun encounter with a meat chopper. Bruised and beaten, Neil returns home to his Fox family and swears everlasting vengeance on The Raven Fuckers.

And that’s The Raven King for you.

Did I like it? Hell fucking yes.

Did I prefer it to the first book? Hell fucking yes.

Seriously, The Foxhole Court was wonderful, all good things in there, all the exposition a girl could want, but The Raven King was where shit finally, finally started going down.

There was PLOT. There were brain-mushing twists and jaw-dropping revelations, breath-stopping shocks and heart-clenching emotional moments galore.

This, as predicted last time, was the book where the arc of suspense picks up speed. It’s a basic - but effective - trilogy setup: The first book sets the scene, introduces the theme and the characters and gets the reader invested in the story. The second book dishes out the truly gripping plot points, keeping the reader at it and paving the way for the big finale. Finally, the third book is where shit truly goes down: Here, the last big twists are revealed and everything culminates in an epic finale.

It is Every Trilogy Ever, and it works like a fucking charm.

Personal highlights of this book include, but are not limited to:

THE FALL BANQUET SASSFEST. EVERYTHING ABOUT IT. I will probably never shut up about this ever. "Dan, I said please" honestly ICONIC.

"I don't think Riko likes me very much"

The second banquet, but for entirely different reasons - reasons being Neil's newfound guard dog attitude and my newfound tears

Renee’s backstory can I get a hell yeah

Nicky teaching Neil how to cellphone uhmmm sign me the eff up

THEY FINALLY HAVE TEAMWORK AND DO STUFF TOGETHER MY LITTLE HUFFLEPUFF HEART CAN'T HANDLE THIS

Thanksgiving. We don't talk about Thanksgiving but. Honestly that chapter.

The very last two chapters scared the crap out of me but honestly, they were so well-written and so amazing so suck it I'm including them here seriously they were so good

DADMACK

Same as last time, but updated: Opinions on characters!

Neil is still my son, but wow, introducing Son 2.0 in the Updated Version: Now featuring Facing Your Problems, Dealing With Shit and Actual Responsibility! With a guaranteed 20% less emo and 100% more awesome! Buy now, get one punch in the Raven jaw for free. No, seriously, Fearless Neil Josten is my favourite Neil Josten. He is right on the same level as Sassmaster McSavage Neil Josten, followed by Responsible Neil Josten, with Angsty Dramatic Runaway Neil Josten coming in last. (Sorry, book 1.)

Andrew has risen through the ranks of my favourites faster than mentos in a coke bottle. I LOVE HIM. Thanksgiving has cemented this. He is my small gay angry knife murder son and I will protect him five-fucking-ever. He is the main reason I am hella excited for TKM because Andrew!! Off!! His!! Meds!!! Imma pass out I'm so excited.

Kevin has definitely improved as well – the awesome 'I Have Adopted This Team And I Will Make Them Great, Suck My Dick Riko' scene, anyone?

Nicky has won back my heart for good by now - the Teaching Neil How To Phone Incident has definitely rid him of any and all past mistakes in my book. Also, he is the fuck precious and continues to bring sunshine into all our bleak lives.

Aaron has gained mad, mad sympathy points in this book. He suddenly has a PERSONALITY, you guys. Also, the Thanksgiving incident. THE THANKSGIVING INCIDENT. Anyone hating on Aaron from this point on can fight me. Also Katelyn is an a+ cutiepie.

My opinions on Renee, Matt and Dan are pretty much the same as before, if heightened by the reveal of all of their awesome backstories. An ex-street gangster, an ex-junkie and an ex-stripper all loving and supporting each other and being their own family?? Sign me the fuck up.

The only one I'm still kind of 'meh' about is Allison. Where's her backstory. Pls. I want it.

Wymack, Abby and Betsy are the Fox Parent Triumvirate, my opinion on them hasn't changed either. Also Dadmack!

And my opinion on Riko and his bastard posse should be clear. Kind of split on Jean (he's a victim etc etc, still doesn't excuse him imo, but maybe he’ll become more likeable later), but that's about it.

Let's take a look at some predictions I made last time, shall we?

They’ll deal with Seth’s death – some better, some worse pretty much exactly sums it up, go me

The banquet thing will happen and it will be hella awkward and hilarious and something Super Dramatic And Important will happen OH MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD OH MY OH MY

Neil will master the Raven drills Kevin is making him do and it will be EPIC so he did pass them apparently, but I actually had to read back on this to be sure, sooo - no epicness. instead: heavier racquets! when will Kevin chill, the answer is never

Andreil will continue having Important Gay Moments™ uhmmm hECK YES lotsa andreil in this book, ya girl is happy

The “Kevin and Riko know Neil” situation will not be addressed (!) (I’m expecting that to be in the last book, near the final epic smackdown) GIRL YOU WERE EXPECTING WRONG BAHAHAHA

Neither will we meet Neil’s father (again, last book) ok I'm sticking with this tbh

However, we will meet Tetsuji and shit will go down oh hon

Also, we’ll meet some Ravens I suppose, since it is the Raven King after all "WE WILL MEET SOME RAVENS, I SUPPOSE" oh HON OH HON

We will find out Renee’s backstory y e e e s

We will find out something – if maybe not everything – about the Minyard-Hemmick backstory Y E E E E E E E E S oh dear

Some more kisses will happen. I don’t care who kisses whom. Probably not Andreil (yet). Let it be Abby and Wymack. Aaron and his irrelevant girlfriend. I don’t care. Give me kisses. excuse you, "irrelevant" psshh, but yeah that's the only kisses in this book :(

And because I don't learn from my mistakes, let's do this one last time - Shit I Think Will Happen In The Kings Men:

HANDS UP FOR CANON ANDREIL I'm sorry, I know this is happening, tumblr told me :/

Will they kiss tho?? Will they have actual love declarations?? Sexy times maybe even????? WHO KNOOOOOOWS

I will love the USC Trojans 1000% if they are huffy puffs I will love them

Someone's gotta die who are we kidding

Hopefully no one of our guys

We will finally get that sweet Allison backstory (come on girl don't let me down)

We will meet Neil's dad. This cannot not happen.

Some championship shit will happen in which the Foxes either a) win or b) don't win but The Real Prize Was The Friendships We Made Along The Way

Nicky's bullshit dad will get the court case he deserves (if this doesn't happen I'm the fuck quitting)

Cats are probably important somewhere

Phew. That's it for this book, then. As always, thank you guys are so much for sticking with me through this. You are the backbone, the spirit, the motivation of this blog. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

See you soon with the third - and final - book. I am not ready.

If you like what I do here and you want to help me continue writing (still working on that laptop), please consider buying me a coffee! Thank you so much <33

#nicki reads tfc #aftg #tfc #trk #the raven king #the foxhole court #all for the game #two days late this time bc life is STRESS im sorry #come hmu in my ask box if you like these!!!#kinda unsure abt the format aha ha ha #ily all have a great day/evening/night

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