#and andrew also says that neil is a knife pressed against his throat

[daffodilmoreau]

light fires at night (to fill the void) by inthesea is required reading for andreillers

[internet-kid-kenna]

So obviously at least one of the foxes is gonna shovel talk Jeremy sometime soon. Like when Kevin (and I'm assuming at least Andrew and Neil but maybe also Renee and Wymack?) comes out for the interview with Jean, someone is gonna pick up on the dynamic.

(honestly I have to bet Neil noticed something when he picked Jean up to go meet with the FBI, but Neil would never assume it's attraction LMAO, he just would have noticed something was *up*)

But when someone notices something between Jean and Jeremy when they come, someone is gonna pull Jeremy aside and be like "if you hurt Jean I will slice you six ways til Sunday." But there's so many options of who could do it and which one would be funniest.

Like if Kevin comes alone when he notices, is he gonna be jealous of Jeremy and/or Jean? happy for them? Upset and all "it'll be easier if you're straight" on them? If he does shovel talk Jeremy what does he say? It's not exactly like Kevin is the biggest fighter, like does he threaten to send Andrew and Neil after him? Or does he steel up and say he'd kill Jeremy himself and that's how Jeremy knows he's serious bc he knows Kevin wouldn't hurt anyone himself without a good reason?

But like other people doing the shovel talk is good too and I can see them so clearly (and have probably read fan fic about them but I've been reading so much fanfic it's all melting together in my brain so forgive me if you recognize this)

Like Neil, he probably would freak Jeremy out the most because of the whole his dad being a serial killer thing and if it's after Jeremy finds out how gr*yson really dies and knows Neil can order actual hits still, it'd actually freak him out. But also Jeremy is 100% the kind of guy who would be like if I ever hurt Jean like that please actually do order a hit on me because I deserve it.

But Andrew, Jeremy wouldn't be expecting it to come from Andrew. However, I think Neil definitely told Andrew that Jean compared gr*yson to dr*ke and that he had him killed. Therefore, I think Andrew's shovel talk would be not because Andrew is friends with Jean (cuz I don't think they are) but because Andrew wants Jeremy to know he will kill him if he touches Jean in a way he doesn't want to be touched. There may or may not be knife involved, either pressed against a throat or casually being twirled.

However, if Renee and Wymack come with, there's even more options.

Renee would definitely give Jeremy a shovel talk, Jeremy would not be expecting it and she'd probably scare him with how calmly she describes how easy taking apart a man is and that she'd have to borrow her knives from Andrew or something like that. But it's very clear that she loves Jean and wants him to genuinely find happiness.

Wymack would shovel talk even though he barely knows Jean, it would just be like that kid doesn't need to be hurt anymore than he has been and I don't care how good at exy you are or how far apart we live, if you don't take care of him I will fly here myself to rip you a new one.

I don't think we'll get more than one of these if we do get one, but I also think it'd be hilarious if literally everyone pulled Jeremy aside and is like do not hurt him or you will die and he is like, message received loud and clear, thank you.

[emmytriesfanfic]

"You're free," his uncle's voice tells him, his words calm and even as if he did not change the course of Neil's life forever with two simple beats. "You and all of your Exy friends. The Moriyamas have fallen, and the family - the Hatfords - think you're safest where you are. Good luck, Nathaniel, and enjoy it. Call if you need anything." A click of the call ending, and then the sound of plastic and glass meeting cement.

There’s a roar in Neil’s ears and blood on his knees; there’s a pounding in his chest and a whine crawling out of his throat. His palms are scraped and his fingernails are bloody, but there is a dangerous amount of hope simmering underneath his broken skin.

Three decades. $5 million. 22 names. Seven years. A deal, and then another. $28 million.

Nothing. Andrew. Everything. Andrew.

Freedom. Neil’s tongue has never had the privilege to taste the air as a free man, his eyes never given the chance to see without fear of what might be there, his body never able to shake the knee-jerk tension.

Someone is talking to him, a woman, maybe, whose face is twisted in concern, but Neil can’t focus on her, not when he needs to get home. Not when he needs Andrew. He grabs his cracked phone from the sidewalk, scrambles to his feet, and takes off towards their Denver apartment.

He feels strung as tight as a bow and as loose as kindergartener’s tooth. It’s three miles to the apartment, but it feels like no time has passed. Neil doesn’t offer the elevator a single glance as he runs through the lobby, throws open the door to the stairwell, and flies up six flights, only stopping once he fumbles his key into their door and falls into their cozy space.

Neil’s breathing is uneven - he can feel the stuttering in his chest, but nothing is more important than getting Andrew in front of him. He’s not in the kitchen or the living room, so Neil rushes into their bedroom, where Andrew is laying in their bed, a cat on his stomach and a book in his hand. The straight face he was sporting falls into a frown as he takes in Neil’s sudden appearance in their bedroom.

“Andrew,” Neil gasps out, falling to his knees again, twitching with a small grimace at the feeling of the slightly-rough rug on his raw skin. “Andrew, I’m free. We’re free.”

Andrew moves faster than Neil has seen him move. The book is tossed away, the cat gently but urgently shoved to the side, and then he’s there: his Andrew, Neil’s Andrew, also on his knees in front of him.

“Neil,” Andrew says. Familiar hands come around his neck and his chin and there’s panic in his eyes. Why is there panic? There should be relief, joy even, but panic? Why is he acting like something is wrong?

“Drew, I’m free. They’re - they - the. The Hatfords, my uncle, he called,” Neil manages to choke out, clenching his scratched palms into fists. “The Moriyamas are gone, and I’m free. Kevin’s free. No one owns us anymore, Andrew. I’m free.”

Andrew is a statue before him, frozen except for how his eyes search every inch of Neil’s face. “They are gone. No more Moriyamas with a knife to your throat if you misstep, no more ‘donations’ to off-shore accounts, no more worry that an injury will end your life.” His hands grip Neil harder with each word until he’s pressed against Andrew in the most soul-splitting and healing embrace Neil will ever experience.

“I’m free, Drew. I’m yours, just yours, forever.”

Andrew pulls Neil back by his neck, looks him dead in the eye and says, “Don’t say stupid things,” before a bruising kiss sends Neil onto his back. His hands hesitate at his side until Andrew tugs one up onto his head. Neil’s ruined palms melt into the soft, downy hairs and he returns the desperate kiss with all he has.

“You’re free,” Andrew says as he pulls away slightly, brushing soft lips against any skin he can reach.

“I’m yours,” Neil counters, and lets himself get lost in the feeling of freedom and devouring kisses of relief.

[abraxos-is-toothless]

I have a fic request, pretty please! Andreil (ofc!) Anyway Neil not answering his phone (cuz it died, again, oops) and Andrew losing his shit and hunting him down!

Okay it’s 2am and this is finally, finally being posted. It should have gone up like a week ago but Tumblr wouldn’t let me answer asks at the time. I’ve changed this around so many times and I don’t know if this is what you were hoping for but I tried my best! I tweaked it a little too, so sorry.

Full Masterlist.

—————

This is Josten, I don’t want to talk to you so don’t leave a message.

This is Josten, I don’t want to talk to you so don’t leave a message.

Andrew had now called Neil’s phone about twenty fucking times and he still hadn’t answered; he always answered when Andrew called him. Everyone was in the lounge at the court since it had been at least four hours since anyone had heard from him. Nicky was almost in tears, Dan and Matt looked like they were two seconds away from calling in a search party and of course Aaron the asshole looked like he didn’t care that Neil was missing. Abby was tucked underneath Coach’s arm, her face etched with worry and taking comfort from the man. It was about fucking time they got their shit together. The man in question cleared his throat just when Andrew was about to leave and search the campus himself. “Minyard sit the fuck down, we will find him we just have to piece some things together first.”

All he did was sneer at the command but stayed nonetheless. He was itching to pull out his knives and bury them in something but Renee gave him a look as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and she shook her head at him. Nicky really was crying now and Andrew had to force himself not to roll his eyes. Yes they all cared about Neil, they were all his family, but with the reactions they were giving it was like they expected the worst. Andrew could not think like that, wouldn’t think like that because even though he hated when the idiot said it, he had to believe that Neil was fine.

“Who was the last person to see him?” Allison spoke up from the other side of the room, and so now it looked like she was getting worried. When they’d first gathered here it had only been an hour and she figured he’d turn up in the next few minutes. Oh how wrong she was. Matt forced out an answer, his leg bouncing non-stop, just like it had been after the riot two years ago and Neil had been taken to Baltimore.

“Uh I did. We walked to our first class together after morning practice.” Well that didn’t really help because the junkie had his Spanish class right after that one and then he usually went on his run after that. No one would have seen him at Fox Tower after that, because no one else was free. Actually that was wrong because-

“He was talking in Japanese. He was talking in fucking Japanese.” Because the coward that was Kevin Day had one of his classes cancelled and he’d told everyone he’d go back to the dorms and figure out a new drill they could do, not that anyone really cared. Before he could do a repeat performance of choking Kevin out, Renee was on him in a flash, restraining him from any movement. When Kevin turned to look at Andrew, he’d gone as white as a sheet, as if he realised what he’d just said and visibly swallowed. Andrew was going to kill him, and then bury his body where nobody would find it. Just as soon as the good Christian girl let go of him.

“What the fuck do you mean he was talking in Japanese, Day?” Andrew’s voice was low and smooth, promising a whole lot of pain if Kevin didn’t respond in the way he was expected to. The spineless coward looked around the room at the foxes, eyes lingering on his father, before turning back to Andrew and wringing his hands in front of him.

“When I got back to the dorms, Neil was already there. I was going to ask him if he wanted to help me come up with new drills and plays when I heard it. He didn’t sound like he normally did, it was like he was someone else and was talking in whispered Japanese like he was worried about someone hearing him.”

The fucking stupid asshole.

He was dealing with Moriyama bullshit and hadn’t even bothered to tell Andrew. They had agreed on no more lies, to trust one another. Looks like Andrew had made a mistake on that front but really, it was bound to happen. That was a lie, Neil was most likely in meltdown mode and had forgotten he had people who could help him now. Nicky was hysterical now and started yelling at Kevin, tears falling down his cheeks. “Well you speak Japanese too dickwad, what the fuck was he actually saying or are you going to wait another four hours to tell us that?”

“I don’t know what he was talking about! There were a few quick ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers and an ‘of course’ but he wasn’t actually giving information. He probably didn’t want to get into trouble.”

Oh Andrew was going to enjoy being responsible for the death of the great Kevin Day. Just as he was about to fight Renee to get to him, the sound of the door opening pushed through his senses and he swivelled to see Neil walk into the room. Nicky gave a cry of relief, getting onto his feet and joining Matt as they ran over to fuss over the redhead. Neil tried meeting Andrew’s gaze and smile, but all he could do was glare at the sight of those piercing blues. Andrew was quite angry with him, and he’d soon find that out. Wymack was also quite angry by the looks of it, arms now crossed over his chest and a face like thunder. “Where in the actual fuck have you been, Josten? And don’t give me any of your usual bullshit because it’s not going to be good enough.”

Andrew watched Neil gently extricate himself from his cuddly giants and sighed as he looked around the room at everyone. It was Wymack who’d asked for answers yes, but Neil didn’t look at anyone other than Andrew, as if it was just the two of them.

“Ichirou called. He wanted an update on his assets and to make sure we weren’t doing anything stupid. He also wanted to reiterate what would happen if we didn’t manage to attract pro teams that weren’t to his liking. I told him that he wouldn’t be let down.”

Aaron piped up for the first time since they’d all walked into the court hours ago. “It’s been literal hours Josten, a text to say ‘I’m still alive, unfortunately’ would have been great. I’ve wasted my whole day.”

“I know how long it’s been, jackass.” Neil snapped, glaring daggers into Aaron’s skull. Andrew was still vibrating with anger and couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Everyone get the fuck out.” When they all just stared at him, not moving, he emphasised his point by unsheathing a knife and giving a firm, “Now.”

Nicky and Kevin moved like lightning and were the first to leave. Allison smirked for some stupid reason, winking at Neil as she strode out of the room. Matt and Dan looked weary but still left, Aaron on their heels. Renee gave them both gentle smiles and nodded her head. Wymack gave Neil a stern look like he wanted to say more but thought better of hit, rubbing his forehead and mumbling about being ‘too old for this shit’. Abby gave Neil a few motherly touches, which the redhead flinched away from for the first time in a long time, and then she too was gone.

Now that they were alone Neil tried explaining with an, “Andrew I...” but he trailed off, seemingly lost for words. He didn’t have a chance to think of anything else before Andrew flung himself at his stupid junkie, fists gripping at Neil’s- no Andrew’s –t-shirt and burying his head into his chest. He smelt of apples and sweetness and god, Andrew felt like he could finally fucking breathe.

“You didn’t answer your fucking phone. Why didn’t you answer the phone?” Neil’s arms moved, one wrapping around Andrew’s waist the other holding the back of his neck, keeping him against his chest.

“Ichirou had a few extra words before the call ended. He said he was ‘sorry for my loss’. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about at first but then I remembered. It’s the anniversary of mom’s death. I turned my phone off after and just ran. I came back when I turned my phone back on and saw the missed calls.”

As much as he hated Mary Hatford, he knew why Neil still mourned her sometimes. He was slowly beginning to understand that what his mother had done to him was wrong, that she had abused him for years, but she was all he had known and was the only safe thing for him. He hated it but kept quiet, not wanting to get into an argument on the matter right now. “Just let me know you’re alright next time. Kevin heard your call, heard the Japanese. I thought, I thought...”

Neil suddenly cupped his face in his scarred hands, tilting his head back so they were looking at each other, before leaning in to press their foreheads together. “I’m right here ‘Drew and I’m not going to disappear again. I’m right here.”

The kiss that followed was soft, gentle and slow, so unlike them but it was what they needed just then. They need to be able to feel everything and to be able to feel each other. Andrew didn’t want to let go, he wanted to stay and kiss Neil until his lips went numb but exhaustion was a bitch. He pulled back, looking at Neil’s lips which were swollen from their kisses and he had a pretty red flush that had blossomed on his cheeks.

“Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry and you owe me ice cream after what you just pulled.” Neil just laughed and nodded, taking one of Andrew’s hands in his own and linking their fingers together, walking them both towards the door.

“Whatever you want ‘Drew, whatever you want and I’ll give it to you.”

—————

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[dayzone]

maybe you could do neil snapping (i mean he kills someone or something like that) at evermore after the winterbreak (so Andrew is already out of rehab) and calling kevin (and the rest of the foxes bc they are there)? idk? it was just an idea hahahha :)

BRO YES THANK YOU

okay i took some liberties with the prompt BUT i absolutely adore fics/hcs of neil snapping so mmmmm thank u

tw death / blood

so we know andrew got out of rehab after neil came back from evermore but we’ll just say he gets out of rehab before neil gets back

and andrew- andrew knows when kevin lies. he knows all of kevin’s tells and he’s too paranoid by nature to not be able to tell when people are lying. so he’s Suspicious when he asks where neil is and kevin starts to blink hard and seems like he can’t sit still while stammering out that neil went to visit relatives.

but he leaves it alone because he’s not supposed to care anymore now that he’s off his meds

now neil.. neil isn’t one to back down and take a beating without biting back

he knows he can’t physically really touch riko; he can talk back and insult him until his mouth fills with blood, but he can’t do much more than slam his forehead into rikos nose the one (and only) time riko made the mistake of getting too close to neils face while sneering and cutting into neils chest

so riko.. he can’t touch riko. not now. not yet.

but the other ravens? that’s a different story.

neil doesn’t know it but it’s his last day in the nest. his cheek is throbbing from roman numeral “3” on his cheek and his body hurts so bad it feels numb

he’s in the locker room, sitting on the floor of the communist showers, everyone already gone, including jean. neils been sitting there long enough for the water to be ice cold, and he only distantly hears the cream of the door opening

and in comes a raven neil can only distantly remember; he’s good enough to be a raven but not good enough to be one of rikos boys who stand close in his shadow. neil knows his name, colin hemmings, and he also knows that he embarassed colin on the court only a few hours earlier, bad enough that tetsujis cane took a break from neils back to find home on colins spine

colin comes in sneering and spitting curses after locking the door, and he’s coming at neil with his leg cocked back to kick at neils already bruised ribs, fists clenched and ready to rain down on neils crouched form

and neil is just so fucking angry. he’s so fucking tired but right now all of his rage towards riko, the ravens, and the nest burst to the surface and he feels himself rise quickly to his feet- he doesn’t really remember making the conscious decision to get up, to sweep colins feet out from under him, to straddle the boy and catch him by his collar and slam the boys head repeatedly into the tile floor

neil does remember vindictively thinking that colin was too stupid to think to bring back up- too stupid or too proud and that will absolutely be one of the last mistakes he ever makes. neil remembers the look of anger, and then fear, that flashes in colins eyes as neil breaks his arm and cracks the bones of his own knuckles from the sheer force he’s putting behind the punches he’s aiming at colins face. he’s smiling so hard he thinks that he’ll never stop.

neil distantly knows he’s going to kill him, and when colin tries to pull a knife on neil it only makes his rage burn hotter, making his vision go white

he doesn’t remember much after colin tried to pull the knife. he thinks there might be a “W” carved into colins chest by the time he’s dead but he doesn’t look back to check. when neil finally pulls out of his own head, he’s standing in the middle of his room and jean is looking at him with barely concealed horror. neils hands only start to shake when he goes to pull on clothes over his damp skin and realizes that his skin is damp with watered down blood. his cheeks ache.

“jean.” neil says, after he finally gets dressed. he’s not sure what he wants to say but jean beats him to it

jean hurries to get out of the chair he was sitting in and pushes neil towards to door of the room “we’re leaving. your flight isn’t for another eight hours but we need to go.”

so they leave. jean gets neil in the passenger seat of a car and pulls out of the parking lot faster than what could ever be described as safe and it’s only when they’re an hour away from edgar allen that jean tosses neil his phone and tells neil to call someone to pick him up after his flight

jean has a look on his face that neil doesn’t want to even begin to decipher but neil unlocks the phone anyways. his fingers shake hard enough that it takes three tries to punch in the numbers, but really, there’s only one person he can call right now

“kevin. kevin you have to come get me.”

neil can’t make himself talk anymore after that, can’t get his throat to unclog, can’t tear his eyes away from the mirror on the side of the car where he can see his own reflection, his fathers eyes and smile staring back at him, his face splattered with blood

jean snatches the phone from him and snaps at kevin in fast french, undoubtedly telling him the entire story. jean says nothing whenever neils chest bubbles over with quiet, mean giggles.

neil knows he goes to the bathroom in the airport to wash away the visible blood, and he knows he sits deathly still for the entire flight, but he doesn’t really feel like neil until he drops his forehead on kevins chest. kevin’s too terrified of opening neils wounds to wrap his arms around neil, so he just presses the side of his face against the top of neils head and tries to breathe deep to stave off the tremors lurching through his body

they sit pressed as hard against each other as neils wounds will allow in the back seat of andrews car as andrew drives them back to palmetto, refusing to look in the rear view mirror to look at neil. his jaw is clenched hard enough that neil’s jaw aches in sympathy while neil presses his fingers against his own lips.

when they get back to the tower, all of the foxes are there waiting but it’s kevin who simply glares and shakes his head tersely at them before leading neil up to his room. neil showers while kevin sits on the lid of the toilet in the bathroom with him, and andrew is smoking in the living room

when neil finally slinks into bed he feels- not okay. he doesn’t regret it and he’d do it again in a heartbeat, but the bloodlust is finally easing in his veins and kevin is within reaching distance, andrew is by the door of the dorm, and that counts for something.

[andreil-protection-squad]

So I wrote some Kevin x Seth smut and here you have it

Please excuse any grammatical errors, english’s not my first language and I’m still trying to learn how to proper use it in a text lol

Anyway, my second attempt at ever writing smut, please be kind.

__________

“I can’t fucking take this anymore,” Seth mumbles. He mumbles something more, but Kevin can’t quite make it out.

“Don’t be such a bitch,” he replies. “The game starts in about an hour.”

“Not everything is about fucking exy, you fucking maniac,” the other boy answers. “I mean, I really need some pot right now, ‘cuz I am so fucking stressed.” Seth groans loudly, which gathers the attention of his other teammates, but he doesn’t even spare a second glance to them. “Fuck off,” he mumbles in their direction.

Kevin’s face scrunches, as he thinks about high Seth, who is so much more chill than the regular Seth. The red in his eyes is almost calming and the slow movement of his limbs can be described as mesmerizing, if it wasn’t for the fact, that Kevin would always think about all the times, he had the horrible thought, that Seth wouldn’t be able to play exy again after smoking_._ Fortunately, Seth was always able to throw a punch and a ball, no matter how much he smoked, so there really wasn’t any reason to worry about him at all.

“You know what, Day? I’m gonna smoke in the bathroom and you’re gonna cover me.” Seth stands and Kevin raises his eyebrows.

“Why should I do that, Gordon?” he asks. “And why would you rather smoke than watch the report on the team?” Kevin glances at his teammates, who all watch the report, while being busy with doing their usual routine before a game. Nicky texts Erik, Andrew is half-asleep in Neil’s lap and Allison is painting her nails, even though she will have to do it again once the game is finished. But atleast everyone – besides Seth and Andrew – has their attention focused on the right thing: Exy.

“You could also suck my dick, but I guess that won’t happen either”, Seth suggests snarky. “You need to chill the fuck out with your exy bullshit, dude. There are other things in life, too.”

“Like pot?” Kevin asks.

“Like pot”, he agrees. “See, you understand me. So, excuse me, while I go smoke some.”

Before Seth can go, Kevin reaches out and catches his wrist. “You can’t fucking smoke some pot before a game, Gordon. You won’t be able to do shit.”

“Bummer.”

“I mean it, Seth. If you make us loose, then I will shove all of the opposing teams exy racquets up your sorry ass.”

“Jesus”, Seth mumbles and gets his hand free. “You are such a lame fucker, did you know that? Loosen up a bit, will you?”

“I will, if we win this game.” Kevin raises his eyebrows again.

“Fine. Fine, I won’t smoke. But I need to piss.” He walks a step, then stops and turns around again. “Unless you don’t believe me and want to check, that I really am only pissing.”

Kevin growls in defense. “Actually, I need to go to. So yeah, I will keep you company.”

“Great, I can’t even take a piss without you playing my watchdog,” Seth mumbles. As they both begin to leave the waiting room for the Palmetto State Foxes, none teammates even notice it. And even if they would have, it wouldn’t be that uncommon of a sight – Seth and Kevin both leave together for the bathroom several times a month. It’s a natural sight, really. Not even Aaron has the audacity to leave a snarky comment for them, because he doesn’t have to.

The second the bathroom door falls in place behind them, Seth checks all of the stalls to see, if anyone is still in there, then he takes the trashcan and the potted plant in the corner and shoves both of them right in front of the door. “No lock,” he says. “But better than nothing.” He winks at Kevin before he relocates into one of the empty stalls farthest away for the door. “What’re you waitin’ for, Day? Get that ass in here.”

Kevin chuckles and blushes. It’s also nothing new for him and Seth to fool around when they both want to. It’s kind of their thing, like Andrew and Neil have their roof, or how Allison sneaks her hand into Renee’s when she thinks no one’s looking. There is really nothing more to it than some sex. But Kevin would lie, if he didn’t think of it as more. Every time they do it – in an empty bathroom, on his bed in the dorm while the others are out or even in the dark and shadow-y bushes outside of the Foxhole Court – he has this feeling in his chest, that it’s something more, at least for him. He actually and generally likes Seth, even if he would never tell him that because then Seth’s gigantic ego would explode.

Before Seth can grow impatient, Kevin moves in front of him. Seth sits on the closed toilet but is still tall enough, that Kevin doesn’t has to bend down too much to kiss him hard and fierce. Seth’s lips part in an instant and he grasps Kevin’s neck with one hand to pull him even closer to him. A moan hangs between them, like the hot air between their mouths. Kevin smiles as Seth’s mouth begins to wander to his throat, where he slightly bites his skin. Cold shivers run through him, Seth’s finger trace the little hairs on the back of his head and begins to suck on his skin. Kevin throws his head back to let out another groan, then he slips his legs between Seth’s legs to stand even closer to him. He could feel the hard on of the other boy pressing on his thigh.

“Come ‘ere,” Seth mumbles. He presses his finger in Kevin’s neck to pull him closer to him and then they are kissing again, licking each other’s lips, biting them, playing with their tongues. Seth tastes like smoke and mint bubblegum and Kevin enjoys everything about that.

He buries his hand in the other boy’s hair while his own dick just continues to grow. He can feel it itching against his jeans, longing to be freed. Kevin’s free hand begins to wander down Seth’s chest, just past his hard nipples that poke through his shirt. Seth groans again but Kevin just kisses him harder. Just hearing him breath is enough that Kevin grows impatient himself. He wants him and he wants him now.

“Hey.” Seth looks breathless and hot as Kevin stops kissing him, but his brows are tight. “Why’d you stop, Day?”

“Ask again and I won’t continue, you shithead,” Kevin answers while he reaches his destination with his hand. Seth’s dick is hard against his pants and the moment he lays his fingers on the bulge in the other boy’s jeans, Seth moans.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Yeah, that’s what’s gonna happen,” he says grinning. Kevin opens Seth’s zipper and Seth start to stand and pulls down his pants and boxer in one go. The many times he now has seen Seth’s dick are enough, that Kevin doesn’t admire the view anymore but gets to work. He strokes the skin before he reaches out to hold its entire length in his hand. Seth groans even more and sits again. He presses one arm against the stall wall while Kevin begins to gently rub his dick up and down, up and down again.

“You fucking,” he begins to mumble but stops and bites his lips the second, Kevin touches the tip of his dick.

Instead of saying something back and ignoring the fact, that several thoughts in his head are screaming about the lack of hygiene on this bathroom floor, he kneels between Seth’s parted legs and begins to blow the other boy. It’s something he’s done many times now, but every time feels like another life where he just begins to experience this side of his sexuality anew. Being with a boy was so much different than being with a girl. Maybe Nicky really had a point and he, Kevin, too needed someone to lean against. Sucking someone’s dick was never really on Kevin’s to-do list when he started to have feelings for other people, but now that he’s done it more and more times, he really can’t tell why he never thought about the fact, that he might be into this. It was always girls when he discussed his sexual preferences and maybe this was all Riko’s fault, who stole his virginity and also his free will to experiment, but whatever it was - it lead to Kevin leaning on a bathroom floor with his teammates just outside the door and licking the tip of Seth’s dick who looks already like he might cum any second.

“I swear to god, if you cum before I even got a chance to get touched, I am going to murder you,” Kevin says as he stops blowing. “Like, seriously. It’s like you can’t hold out for another minute or what?”

“It’s been days since my last shot,” Seth grumbles. ���Also, you’re too good at this. You’re making me feel things.”

“What a wonder,” Kevin laughs. “I’m making you feel things while I literally devour your fucking dick. I guess everyone would feel things when I had their cock against my throat.”

“I fucking hate you,” Seth says. He grabs Kevin by the shoulder and forces him up, before he kisses him hard and hot. “Get that pants down,” he mumbles between two breathless kisses.

Kevin does as demanded. His dick springs out as his pants and boxer drop to his feet. The cold air feels good against his skin but even better is the feeling of Seth’s fingers on his cock. Ever since their first time, Seth would give Kevin a hand job whenever he felt like it. He didn’t even care that other people could see them. Whenever Seth was feeling horny enough, he would stick his hand into Kevin’s pants. This time, though, as he was stroking Kevin’s dick with his hand, he pushes himself up, spins them around without ever breaking their lip contact and then forces him away from Kevin’s mouth.

“I will suck you so hard, you won’t be able to remember your own name,” he says before he drops to his own knees.

The sight of Seth swallowing Kevin whole was a real blessing, even though Kevin quickly closes his eyes and throws his head back, as the wet and hot feeling of Seth’s mouth was doing things to his dick. An animalistic groan builds in his throat, but he is able to hold it a bit longer in him. The slurping sound that Seth makes whenever he opens his mouth and takes a breath is just another sharp knife in Kevin’s stomach, twisting with the longing after releasing and more pleasure. He grabs a fistful of Seth’s hair, just to feel this boy even closer to him. He moans loudly.

“Be a bit louder and everyone can watch in a minute,” Seth complains with wet lips and saliva sticking to his chin. Kevin, throbbing and pulsing and hot, lets out a quick whine, before Seth rolls his eyes and swallows him again. This time, as Seth lets his teeth make some good and honest work on Kevin’s dicks skin without hurting him, he puts a hand over his mouth to contain the next moan that was already escaping him. The feeling of a river pulsing in his skin grows stronger with every lick and touch and hot, wet kiss Seth does to him, so much that Kevin must pull his teammates mouth away from his dick. “So fast?” Seth asks grinning. “And you’re one to complain.”

Seth stands again and wipes his mouth before Kevin can pull him close again. It doesn’t even bother him, that Seth now tastes like his own dick. He just kisses him, licks his lips, grinds his tongue again Seth’s, bites the sensitive skin right next to his lip corner. Seth moans into his mouth. “You got a condom?” Kevin asks.

“Always for you, dear,” Seth replies against his lips before he parts away from him to reach in his jeans pocket on the floor. “Will you do me the honor?”

“Fuck you,” Kevin says but catches condom and rips it open before pulling it over Seth’s throbbing, hard cock.

“No, I think, I’ll rather fuck you,” Seth says with a sly grin.

Kevin turns around and bends over. He feels one of Seth hands on his shoulder, massaging his hot skin, before he feels two of his other fingers entering his hole. Another beastly moan builds in his throat, as Seth begins to widen his ass, entering another finger just a moment later. They didn’t bring any lube, but they did it so often without that Kevin was sure, that it didn’t matter now. He could hear Seth spitting in his hand and then the wet, cold touch of his fingers, rubbing all over his hole. His dick twitches and he uses his other hand to work on himself while Seth was busy preparing him.

Seth’s hand slides down from his shoulder to his lower back and the next thing Kevin knows, is the tip of a dick entering his ass. This moan he couldn’t contain anymore. Beastly, loud and deep it escaped his mouth the second he presses his hand on it. “Fucking be quiet, Day, I know I’m good.”

“Fuck – fuck you, Gordon,” Kevin is able to reply before Seth slides all the way in.

The feeling of a dick entering him was also something Kevin never thought he would experience, but as Seth now slowly began to widen Kevin’s ass by pulling his dick out and entering again, he was sure it was something he wouldn’t want to miss again. A girl could never, he thought as Seth enters again. This was nothing compared to his own fingers or that one dildo Nicky gifted him as a joke a year ago. Feeling Seth inside him was real and raw and just unbelievable hot. He wanted every inch of him and more. Everytime Seth pushes himself in, Kevin loses his mind. His hole itched and tightened around the cock in it, but he knows it was just preparing itself for all the other pounds that were coming. Seth laughs and moans.

“This is better than pot,” he says while pounding again. “Guess you were right, Day.”

Kevin can’t answer. He is too busy with blocking his own mouth from messaging their teammates of their little game in here with a loud and hot moan, that’s already tickling in his throat. His eyes roll back into his skull, while Seth builds up speed and power, pounding faster and harder into him. Seth’s dick inside of him should be enough to make him cum, but Kevin just fastens that process by stroking his own cock with his other hand. Masturbating alongside Seth fucking him is just the best relaxation before an important game and while Kevin feels his cum building up in his balls, he hears Seth’s balls slap against his cheeks with every pound.

“Fuck,” Seth groans. “I could fuck you all day.”

“I would let you,” Kevin can say before he presses his hand against his mouth again. He feels the cum leaving his dick just as a hot feeling runs through his whole body. Anticipation is dead and the new king of his body’s name is pleasure.

“I’m gonna –,” Seth starts, but he cuts himself short.

The next thing Kevin feels, is Seth grabbing a fistful of his hair and pressing his dick as far inside Kevin’s ass as he can. Then there are waves and waves of hotness in him, throbbing feelings and wet salvia against his hole. Seth releases another load into the condom that’s thankfully still on, but even with that Kevin can feel it in him. They both pant and breath for their lives. Seth chuckles as he presses a soft and lazy kiss against Kevin’s shoulder blade.

“Nice one,” he breaths.

“You’re better be relaxed enough now,” Kevin replies breathless. His own skin buzzes. He feels himself in every pore, everything is more colorful. His heart races against his chest and he counts the seconds Seth still remains inside of him.

“I could go for another round,” Seth admit sheepishly.

“Fuck you,” Kevin says. “We don’t have the time.”

“Bummer,” he answers and sighs, before pulling himself out of Kevin. “It was a good ride though.”

“It was,” Kevin agrees. “Maybe,” he starts and turns around to witness Seth pulling the filled condom of his dick, “Maybe we can have round two when were back in Palmetto.”

Seth catches his eye and grins. “You little bitch,” he says. “You’re really starting to enjoy this, huh?”

Kevin growls angrily. “Don’t start_ _with that, Seth. We both know that it’s not really easy to not enjoy this. Also, we’re both really good at doing it. I don’t think I would have this much fun with another guy.”

“I feel loved,” Seth says with a sarcastic grin before he throws the condom into the toilet. “Clean that up,” he then adds and points at the sticky white marks on the ground. With a smirk on his lips, he leans forward and kisses Kevin again, hot and wet but also soft and more affectionate. “Maybe I really enjoy it too, Day.”

Even though Seth is a fucking bitch who wouldn’t say shit to save his own life, he really makes Kevin feel good whenever they kiss and fuck. It’s not even his primordial instinct kicking in, telling him to enjoy the warm body next to his while he can. It’s a feeling deeply buried in his heart that he’s way too afraid to tell without knowing if Seth could even reply to those feelings with enough thought and meaning. Kevin smiles and pushes that thought away. For now, it’s good enough for him that he can have Seth whenever they please. He doesn’t need the conformation that it’s something more for both of them, because he knows it is for him and he knows he is the only one entering Seth’s bed.

They share one last, lazy soft kiss before Seth walks over to the sink and cleans himself up and Kevin admires the muscled, toned back of his – boyfriend? Lover? Something different? It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. He loves that it’s Seth and he loves every second with him, even if they only throw snarky comments at each other before they make out in an empty bathroom stall.

Kevin Day doesn’t have to love Seth Gordon but maybe he just does.

[gluupor]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing

Andrew can smell him coming before he can hear him. His sense of smell is excellent—which he regrets greatly since both Neil and Kevin are on the footie team meaning their dorm reeks of sweaty boy—but even so there’s something distinctive about Neil’s scent. It’s not even his blood that Andrew can smell (and despite the fact that he needs to consume it to live, blood doesn’t even smell that good to him—like raw meat and pennies) just him. Neil smells alive in a way that most people don’t; alive and desperate to stay that way, despite (or maybe because of) the fact that he doesn’t think he’ll survive the year.

It’s not long before he can hear Neil, too. He’s shuffling his feet and clearing his throat, as if he’s trying not to startle Andrew into falling off the Ramparts. Andrew wants to scoff. As if Neil could sneak up on him. As if Andrew isn’t absurdly aware of his whereabouts at all times.

Neil comes to a stop several steps behind him; he’s close enough now that Andrew can hear the rush of blood through his veins, can practically feel his heartbeat. It’s both comforting and enticing, and Andrew wants, he wants—

Nothing. He wants nothing. He can have nothing. He’s known that for his entire life; he learned that lesson long before Drake decided he wanted to make his latest plaything into an undead monster like him.

Neil shifts from foot to foot, indecisive. Andrew half-turns toward him, planning to tell him to spit out whatever it is he wants to say. It’s probably another accusation of some kind. He’s convinced that Andrew wants to kill him for some reason. Possibly because Andrew has made one or two attempts to do so.

(Not serious attempts. He mostly just tried to scare him into telling the truth. The Roommates’ Anathema prevents Andrew from actually hurting Neil—much to his past annoyance. He couldn’t believe his bad luck when the Crucible placed the mysterious newcomer into his and Kevin’s room.)

“Andrew—” says Neil, before cutting himself off. His expression shifts from incredulous to irritated. “Are you smoking? For God’s sake, you’re flammable!”

“Everyone’s flammable,” mutters Andrew rebelliously, although he knows very well that vampires are more flammable than most. When Drake bit him it unlocked his magical powers for the first time. He pushed Drake off of him, and wordlessly cast a Tyger, tyger, burning bright (not that he’d known that’s what he was doing at the time). It had been like dry kindling going up in flames.

“Jesus Christ,” complains Neil, as he grasps the key that always hangs from his belt. It’s large and old and bronze, and it’s the only magical instrument that has ever worked in Neil’s hands.

Andrew gave it to him; it’s an old Hemmick family heirloom that Andrew had used until he’d found a magical silver knife in the catacombs when searching for rats to drain of blood. The key had never felt right in his own hands; his knife felt like it belonged there. When Neil had shown up at Watford without a family or a magical instrument of his own, there had been a long search where students offered him instruments they weren’t using, until he’d settled on Andrew’s key.

“Make a wish!” casts Neil, instantly extinguishing the cigarette, and filling the air with the scent of his magic—wintergreen and ozone.

Andrew turns away from him and flicks the now-soggy cigarette over the Ramparts. “You swear like a Normal.”

Neil appears at his side and leans against the stonework. “I am a Normal.”

“Sure you are,” replies Andrew, raising an eyebrow. Because so many Normals can control magic.

Neil made a big splash in the World of Mages when he was found living in the Normal world, with no known Magical family. Almost as big as Andrew did, although it was quickly discovered that Andrew actually belonged to the Hemmick family (one of the oldest and most powerful Magical families) but that his mother, the family fuck up, had given him up for adoption in the Normal world. Andrew was incensed—or he would have been, if he hadn’t learned to control his emotions by then—when he learned about how protective the World of Mages was over magical children. If only his mother had told her brother she was pregnant instead of hiding out in the Normal world, he and his twin Aaron would have been given magical homes.

Of course, they probably would have lived with their Uncle Luther, which, given his cousin Nicky’s stories, would have sucked. But it still would have been better than Normal foster care.

“Neil Josten is a Normal,” corrects Neil, giving Andrew a side eyed look.

“And before you were Neil Josten?” asks Andrew. He usually skirts the topic, pretending that he has no idea that Neil is lying about his identity as long as Neil continues to pretend he has no idea that Andrew is a vampire.

Neil smiles at him and doesn’t answer. Andrew’s chest throbs. He wants to kiss Neil, which isn’t surprising or new. He spends most of his time wanting to kiss Neil, wanting to bury his face against his neck to feel his pulse and his warmth and the rush of his blood, wanting to prove to himself that Neil is still alive.

He also wants to push Neil off the Ramparts for making him feel these things.

“Too bad you weren’t ten minutes earlier,” he says instead. “There was a confused ghost trying for a visiting.” The Veil is thin and these visitings have been going on for weeks. Andrew isn’t expecting anything—he has no family he cares about and he doubts that his ancestors would pick him to speak to in any case.

“Oh?” asks Neil lightly.

“A woman, looking for her son. Abram.”

Neil is practiced at lying so he controls his reaction tolerably well; Andrew doesn’t think that anyone who hadn’t spent as long as he has observing Neil would even notice the way he tenses.

“It’s an unusual name,” continues Andrew, feeling like he’s pressing on a bruise. “I don’t think there’s anyone at Watford with it.”

“Not that I’ve heard,” replies Neil, his voice almost natural. “What… what did the ghost say?”

“Mostly she just moaned for her son and told me to stay away from him—I have no idea who she thought I was.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then she said that danger approaches and Abram must leave Watford.” Andrew watches as his words fall like a blow, confirming his suspicions.

He gives in to his desires and reaches out to touch Neil, gripping him by the back of his neck. “Good thing your name is Neil,” he says roughly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

[luci-cunt]

👀👀 I am sending this again very specifically because I want to see Neil throw flowerpots at Andrew sorry not sorry

k;asd XDD

Ask and ye shall receive:

(btw in this au Neil and his mother were mechanics for the Moriyama’s who use robots that look like them called “Avatars” to cause mayhem in the “Wasteland” which is just the U.S post-nuclear destruction. The U.S keeps telling the public no one survived the fallout, except people in the middle of the U.S did and are now basically the NPC’s in Westworld. Rn Neil’s stuck in a tower in the Wastelands doing matinence for the Moriyama Avatars, except Riko’s the only one anymore. idk if that makes sense, if it doesn’t just enjoy pot throwing XD) Also I just dumped the whole segment in here, it’s like 1k so watch out XD.

_____

Two days after Riko’s visit Nathaniel was running on the treadmill when he heard voices. 

He ignored them at first, since curious scavengers and survivors weren’t uncommon. Usually they’d pick their way around the building until they realized there was no way to get in or spot the MORIYAMA PROPERTY sign. 

But then Nathaniel heard the electronic whine of a saw starting up, and he jumped off his treadmill, grabbing for a weapon–a heavy wrench–and carefully made his way towards the sound. 

It was coming from his kitchen, on the wall behind it, and while it was muffled Neil strained to listen to what they were saying. The saw cut off sharply, and then started again, before turning off, like whoever was using it didn’t know how to use a button. 

“…know how to use that?” one voice said, Neil thought he heard a scoff. 

“Of course I do, I’m not an idiot,” a second voice said. The first voice sounded feminine, while the second was male, and oddly familiar. “For the record–” the second voice said, starting the saw back up, “–I think this is a terrible idea.” 

And then Nathaniel heard the saw pierce through the metal of his walls. 

He froze, listening as the saw cut a hole in his prison. No one had ever broken in before, no one had the guts to. So whoever these people were, they were either stupid or powerful. Nathaniel wasn’t sure which he preferred. 

Suddenly there was a loud clatter and a curse, Nathaniel jumped at the noise.

“We’re breaking in through the fridge?” the first voice said incredulously, and Nathaniel blinked at his fridge door. 

“It used to be an exit, they just put a fridge in where the door was, so it’s the weakest point,” the second voice explained impatiently. 

Nathaniel heard the clattering of them removing all his food and shelves and dumping it next to the building so they could enter, and in a moment of panic he braced himself against the door to stop them.

“After you sir,” the first voice said mockingly. “Oh, right, or after you, ass,” she added, sounding bitter. 

Three people? 

Nathaniel felt someone push on the door. 

“Come on Monster, open it up,” the woman said, and the ‘Monster’ pushed again, Neil pressed himself against the door harder. “Is it locked?” 

“It shouldn’t be,” the man said.

“Then why is it not opening?” a third voice said, this one closest to Nathaniel. 

“I don’t know! It should just open, it’s a fridge,” the man said, “Just–push harder, maybe there’s something in the way,” he added. 

“Or you could use that handy little saw we brought,” the Monster said dryly. Nathaniel’s heart started pounding. Fuck.

“Oh right, yeah, I’ll do that,” the man said, his voice coming closer as Nathaniel hear the saw start up. He bolted before it even touched the door though, and the fridge crashed open, spilling three people into his tower. They all cursed and one of them fumbled to turn off a saw, but Nathaniel barely looked at them, too busy bolting for the ladder to the second floor. He got about five steps before he heard someone on his tail, and he pressed himself to go faster, jumping for the ladder. Right as he started to climb through the hole someone grabbed Nathaniel’s ankle, yanking him back downstairs. His arms hit the second storey floor, knocking the breath out of him and he scrambled to hold on to something, kicking at whoever was holding him. 

His foot finally caught something, and the hand disappeared with a curse, Nathaniel clawed his way up and nearly collapsed as he put pressure on his ankle. He hissed, and quickly looked around for some kind of cover to block the open entrance. There was nothing besides plants though, and when Nathaniel looked back he saw a blond head poking its way up from the top of the ladder. On instinct he threw his wrench at the man, who barely managed to dodge it. Nathaniel scrambled up and dragged himself into the back of the room and grabbed a potted plant, when the man’s head popped up again he threw the plant and heard it crash to the floor. 

“Hey what’s–fuck!” the woman’s voice called, interrupted by Nathaniel throwing another pot down. The blond head appeared again, but this time when Nathaniel threw the pot a hand darted up, batting the plant aside so it smashed on the ground next to the opening. 

Panic filled Nathaniel’s body and he just grabbed a pot again to throw, but before he could the man was across the room, he snatched the pot away from Nathaniel and smashed it on the floor. 

“How about you stop that?” he said, voice dripping with barely contained anger. Nathaniel gulped, but managed a scowl. 

“Fuck you,” he hissed, punching the man’s chest. It wasn’t a very good punch, but it seemed to shock the man enough for Nathaniel to be able to bolt around him, all but diving for the door. He didn’t make it very far though, because the man just grabbed the back of Nathaniel’s shirt and slammed him back against the wall. Nathaniel wheezed, his vision swimming as his head bounced against the wall behind him. 

“Who are you?” the man asked, his voice sounding echoey.

“Concussed,” Nathaniel said, trying to blink away the silvery splotches dotting his view. The man was short, surprisingly short, leaving Nathaniel only a few inches taller. He had short hair and hazel eyes that burned where they were boring into Neil. He was wearing all black, with a pair of armbands around his forearms. 

“I said who smartass,” the man said, and suddenly Nathaniel felt a knife pressed to his throat, he almost laughed, but before he could answer the other two members of the mans group caught up to them and were standing behind the man. 

“Christ–Andrew who the hell is that?” the woman asked, she had dark skin and hair about as short as the man’s, but it was curlier. Her face was wrinkled in confusion and she was holding a massive looking machete. 

“Nathaniel?” Nathaniel’s head snapped over to where he suddenly spotted Kevin Day, standing behind the woman. His face looked pale, the 2 tattooed on his cheek stark against the white skin and green eyes wide in fear. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Nathaniel snarled, he couldn’t help it. Bitterness filled him, clashing with the panic. 

“I–” Kevin started, but he was interrupted. 

“Kevin who is this?” the man holding Nathaniel asked, Nathaniel turned his scowl back on that man. 

“It’s–it’s–Nathaniel, he helped me–” Kevin paused, his eyes glazing slightly as he probably relived the memory, “He helped me escape, I thought you–” Kevin stammered, Nathaniel laughed. 

“What? Thought I escaped too? Died? What did you think Kevin?” he snapped, Kevin flinched at his words. 

“I’m sorry I–”

“Shut up,” Nathaniel and the man with the knife said at the same time. Then they glared at each other for it. The man pressed the knife harder to Nathaniel’s neck, and Nathaniel had to force himself not to gulp. 

“Tell me who you are, and what you’re doing with the Moriyama’s,” the man demanded, and Nathaniel smiled at him. 

“Why do you want to know? If you know this is Moriyama property then you’re all either idiots, or powerful enough to know what I do,” Nathaniel said, it made the man’s eyes narrow on him. Either these were a bunch of scavengers looking to cash in on what they probably thought was some kind of storehouse, or they were powerful enough to know about Avatars are and were looking to get their hands on the tech.

“Andrew you shouldn’t–” Kevin tried, but Andrew–apparently–didn’t listen to him.

“Here’s what I think, Nathaniel, I think you’re an Avatar mechanic for the Moriyamas, I also think you must be pretty important since they kept you around even though you helped out Kevin,” Andrew said. So then a bit of both. Neil glared at Kevin over his shoulder.

“You told them?” he hissed, Kevin flinched. 

There was only one law that was actually enforced for Avatars, and that was no Wastelanders could know about Avatars. Hence the fake blood in the skin and Nathaniel faking Riko’s wound. If Wastelanders figured out about the Avatars, it would ruin their simulation, and then the corporation who’d made them would get less money. So anyone who let the secret spill was immediately banned from using an Avatar. 

Kevin–while immune from being punished himself, since he wasn’t in an Avatar and didn’t want to use them–was Moriyama responsibility, so by him spilling the secret, it could get the Moriyama’s in hot water, which wouldn’t be good for anyone. 

“I had to, Riko was coming after them because of me, they needed to know.”

“Hey, we were talking,” Andrew said suddenly, reminding Nathaniel of the knife at his throat. 

“What do you want?” Nathaniel hissed, Andrew shrugged. 

“Usually? Nothing, now? To piss Riko off,” he said, Nathaniel’s stomach knotted itself as he started connecting the dots. 

“So go tell him his hair’s parted weird,” Nathaniel said, hoping Andrew wasn’t thinking the same thing he was. Though, from the cold smile spreading across his face, Nathaniel didn’t feel so lucky.

“Or, we could steal his favorite mechanic.”

Shit.

[fallingin-like]

november 2

andriel into the future (series) by @dustbottle

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

these are some wonderfully written post-canon fics that make you feel warm and safe. we get to see neil and andrew’s relationship grow and strengthen. there’s neil’s year at psu without andrew, a minyard-josten rivalry fic, just some good times, coming out, and cats! there are 5 fics in this series.

missing you (is all i am)

i feel like this whole series is so iconic, and i understand why. it’s really well written and is just such soft content. as much as it’s fun to read the many au’s that are out there, it’s nice to come back and have some comforting post-canon that wraps you up like a blanket because you know andrew and neil are just out there living their life together.

parts i really liked:

”tension scraping at the back of his throat and humming distractingly under his skin. the quiet of his empty apartment… is pressing in on him from all sides, treacherous and thickly oppressive.” i really like the description that you use so well. i can imagine how this feels, you’ve put to words something that i have only ever experienced before

that the exy highlight is literally just neil. andrew is so far gone ahhh

”in neil’s absence, andrew feels strangely untethered, smaller and emptier and less somehow than he has in years.” i just really like the words you used, it is so right

that when andrew finally sees neil looking bad and immediately looks for an injury or something, it reminds me that andrew doesn’t realise how much neil missed andrew. during the novels we saw everything from neil’s perspective and it can seem like andrew is just an anchor, so it’s nice to understand that andrew, like everyone, is uncertain and unsure and new to this whole relationship thing too. i find it’s easy to forget because andrew always seems so decisive and confident, that he’s never done anything like this, let himself be so vulnerable, given parts of himself away to other people like this.

”he bleeds raw emotion all over the place even as he fights to keep it contained.” i love the imagery here

“neil says, and smiles; a dismantled gun; a knife wrapped in lace.” yes!

”’because it’s the truth,’ neil tells, trusting and honest and harsh, and just like that, the resistance breaks apart.” this feels so fitting, because truth is such a huge part of the foundation of this relationship. 

minyard-josten: a rivalry for the ages

i think like most people in the fandom, rivalry!au’s are so so fun to read. there’s something fun about being in on a secret, especially since in these fics, it’s not necessarily a secret, people just are oblivious. 

parts/things i especially enjoyed:

West! not going to lie, he actually kind of reminds me of someone i know (named Wes) who fits this character. the guy i know is really nice and chill, but has serious muscle, a bunch of tattoos, and always looks super cool which is how i picture Wes. and i like when this type of character feels awkward, it endears me to them a little bit more

great to hear of the bonding between neil and his new teammates! i imagine it must have been tough for him at first, he has to adjust because the foxes were his first team, but also his first family and that’s something you can’t just move on from.

”…[matt] keeps an impressively straight face, commenting that andrew and neil have always had a ‘unique relationship’…” i LOVE when the foxes play up the rivalry with increasingly ambiguous and wild comments. i mean they’re not wrong?? they’re just purposely misleading the public and i am here for it!

”kevin catgeorically refuses to talk about anything not strictly exy-related; when pressed, he stiffly remarks that their teamwork had never been a problem.” of course kevin tries to stay out of it. he must be preparing such a long lecture for the next time he sees andrew and neil.

the bit where neil scores on andrew and andrew grabs his helmet. they’re sO cute!! i can only imagine that it must be so rewarding for neil to be able to read andrew so well because it shows him that 1. how he is affecting andrew and making him feel things and 2. allowing himself to have a strong enough relationship with someone to recognize all these small quirks, etc.

”as he watches the other team celebrate their win, with andrew a speck of calm indifference in their midst” something about the imagery of andrew being this calm in the chaos. i think that’s such a big part of their relationship. neil knows that no matter what, andrew will be there for him, his rock, something stable when everything else is crazy. 

you did a really great job transitioning between all these scenes in such a short amount of time. going from the intensity of the game to the quiet of the changeroom, moving from having their teams and the crowd around them to being alone. there’s this distance between them when they’re on court, but when they’re alone? they’re free to be themselves and it’s so interesting to see how different and similar it is to how they normally act. andrew shows his affection in all the little gestures and neil is able to catch all of them where other people just see the blank mask still. 

the self i am

the parts i really enjoyed:

something you don’t quite emphasize, but the fact that they’re driving home. it’s clear that since they’ve been driving for such a long time, it would make more sense to fly, but it’s cute that they don’t. first, it shows just another way that neil takes andrew’s preference into consideration. second, it gives them time to spend together! even though they’re about to have a few days alone in the columbia house, there’s definitely something different and intimate about being in a car with someone for hours. there’s nowhere else to go and no way to reduce the time that you’re together (because i’m sure that andrew was speeding anyway)

andrew not smoking around daisy. although i do think that neil has softened some of andrew’s edges, i do think that andrew would be more considerate towards children than adults/teens. he knows too well how vulnerable they are and even if he doesn’t enjoy spending time with them, i believe he would do the small things like not smoke around them, or share his candy with them.

”progress is slow and not always linear, but it is there” sometimes this can be easy to forget, but that doesn’t make it less true. 

all the ways that andriel should have been obvious to the public but they were too oblivious to know (perfect format of a 5+1 if people still did that HAH you know what maybe there is one like that out there and i just can’t recall it at this moment)

”’i’ll think about it,’ he says, and it would have been a dismissal from anyone else, but from andrew it’s a promise.” i like this because it shows that andrew won’t commit to doing something if he’s still unsure about it. he still takes his word very seriously and doesn’t want to give neil false hope.

oh double fudge ice cream sounds GOOD

”winter sunlight bathes andrew in watery gold, lending his pale hair an almost ethereal glow, and neil feels, with a fierceness that surprises even himself.” i love the imagery you use in this. watery gold? yeS.

th e kiss!!! yeahhh

”kevin is staring stoically ahead, either resigned to his fate or possibly sleeping with his eyes open” I LOVE KEVIN DAY (and also the way you wrote this. so funny)

woohoo! acknowledgement that even though neil is mostly soft, he is also a knife boy and could cut you if he wanted *insert knife emoji*

i can imagine the headlines MINYARD-DAY RIVALRY?

bless the foxes and their reactions. they’re exactly what i would expect. 

neil asking if andrew wants him to sleep on the couch!! so considerate! these boys!!

i wanted to say that i like that this fic didn’t just end with the kiss, in fact that’s the middle of the fic. the fall-out/reaction of the public is definitely some of the more interesting parts, and the scenes where andrew and neil are likely dealing with the most stress

a battle, a war, a growing up

things i really liked:

hearing about andrew’s childhood! i think the idea of andrew reading harry potter is pretty fitting too, i imagine that it would be something easy to come across and that he would be the type to try and spend time at the library, either a public one or with school

acknowledgement of andrew missing neil, it must be hard for him, after trying to pretend he is independent for so long

”andrew’s mind is flat with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from beating himself bloody against the constraints of his own spiralling thoughts.” i feel this.

that andrew is still in contact with bee! and he still comes and talks to her about the big decisions he is making in his life. i think that it’s great to see how much he trusts her and wants to share himself with her, she’s probably the second adult he has been able to do so with (first being wymack).

”you have been taking care of people for years, andrew… this is not so different when you think about it.” YES THIS IS GOOD

i like the idea of andrew picking out two cats at once, of the cats being brothers and keeping them together

the first time that king sits in andrew’s lap is so soft

”there are no more sharp edges to the way he feels about neil; there is only trust, hard-won but utterly true” ugH this is so good! their relationship started as only sharp edges and things that they could cut with, it’s so great to see how time has worn them softer and allowed them to grow and live and want and love

sir! allowing! pets! bless this moment forever

YES NEIL. YOU ROAST THAT REPORTER!!! 

oh dang, i forgot that andrew being sick would likely be so similar to withdrawal that it would trigger him. i think i read a fic that explored this but i cannot for the life of me remember what it was called.

”bee picks up on the first ring, just like she always does, and andrew finally exhales.” i just really like the wording that you used, it feels so right

neil and his bandana strikes again, stealing andrew’s heart (and mine)

so nice to see aaron and andrew getting along!! i do believe that post-canon they work things out like this. they’re still rough around the edges, i think that’s how most siblings are, but they have come to an understanding that they won’t always understand each other but that doesn’t mean they won’t always support each other.

also? i just relate to this fic because i really really want a cat. this just made me want a cat more. they’re such a perfect addition to the life that andrew and neil have.

i think this whole series was lovely. the writing is really easy to read and i love seeing the progression of neil and andrew’s relationship, both with each other and the rest of the world. you have great characterization and i like the direction you took with all of these fics. it was really nice to see glimpses of their life in this last fic and it’s so nice to hear everything from andrew’s thoughts. he’s a character that keeps so much on the inside that it’s great to be able to explore what’s really going on inside of his head and see how he reacts to everything inwardly and his process filtering these reactions. this was so nice to read again, and i’d love to read any more additions to this series!!

[stickballl]

This was based on a beautiful piece of art by @llstarcasterll

also on ao3

He hadn’t been sleeping.  A week since the last good night’s sleep.  A grand total of seven hours of sleep since then.  He’d started running when he’d get up at 3 am, at 6 am, whenever the itch became too strong to ignore.  He returned exhausted enough to pass out right as his head hit the pillow, legs turned to mush, lungs stretched too far, mind blissfully blank. Yet when he got to bed, his mind began a race of its own, spanning from insecurities to the deal that kept him alive. He lay there, completely still, until he felt his heart threaten to burst out of his chest and his mind melt out his eyes.  So, he got up and ran again.

When asked for a reason why it was happening, Neil shrugged and muttered a simple I don’t know.  It had to be the stress of championships.

But Neil knew and each glance at the calendar made the anxiety worse.  He’d ignored the anniversary for as long as he could.  He thought he’d be fine with it.  The past two years hadn’t bothered him, but it was like his body was finely attuned to it and made it a mission to make sure Neil remembered.

Baltimore had been a blessing disguised as a curse. Those few hours Neil had desperately wanted it to just end.  He never saw the appeal in prolonging the inevitable, but each look at the demented smile on Lola’s lips showed him just how wrong he was.  As the day drew closer, he started to feel her hands on him all over again.  He’d dreamt of that car ride during those few blissful hours of sleep he’d get. Sometimes it’d been Lola. Sometimes his father or his mother. Sometimes Andrew.  It never really got easier depending on who’d done it. Just a different hurdle to get over.

He woke up with bags under his eyes every day, drank as much coffee as he could, focused every ounce of attention he had left onto finishing his last season with the Foxes as he’d finished his first. He occupied every second of his day, refusing his subconscious the right to sidetrack him with useless memories.

Jack was the first to notice the change in Neil’s demeanor, the lethargy, the dark circles, the already almost nonexistent patience he had cut in have, and was quick to take advantage of it.  He picked at Neil’s past.  Back talked at practice.  Got physical whenever he could.

Wymack helped when he could, but Jack only fired back by pointing out his favoritism.

Neil ignored the majority of it and ran off the rest.  It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before from news stations or Edgar Allen fans.

Neil thought he had a decent hold on his splintering life.

But when one thing fell, the rest followed.

It started with an off-hand comment, the kind that wouldn’t have bothered him any other time of the year.

“Why do you think he changes in the showers?” a freshman asked.  Diaz, he thought.  Neil kept his eyes on his locker in front of him as he tied his shoes.  At the beginning, he’d found it amusing to hear all the freshman’s guessing at his scars.  Now, not so much.

“He’s probably a battered wife.  Wasn’t he dating one of the twins.  Terrifying bastards both of them,” someone else said. Neil clenched his jaw as his fingers tightened around his laces.  There was no point in starting a fight with someone who had no idea what they were talking about.

“Maybe he’s just self-conscious.”

“Maybe you should all shut up and mind your own damn business,” Robin said a little too loud.  Neil shot her a grateful smile.

“Oh, please.  He’s a narcissistic asshole who wants everyone to think he’s so fucking mysterious.  He exaggerates the fact that he had a slightly tough childhood.  Isn’t that right, Junior?” Jack announced.

Neil’s senses blurred in and out, rage building in his chest, spreading through his veins.  Jack’s voice echoed in his head, joined by many others all taunting the same nickname.

Just smile for me.  Please, Junior.

What did I say about keeping quiet, Junior?

Junior, do you remember me?

Junior’s all grown up.

Hello, Junior.

Neil launched himself off the bench, deadly gaze set straight at Jack.  Within seconds, Neil had Jack pinned against the lockers, forearm pressed into his throat. His grin bordered on manic, all teeth and no mirth.

“Give me a reason, Jack.  Please, give me a reason,” Neil begged.  Jack’s eyes blew wide, surprise and fear mirrored in his body. His hands hovered over Neil’s shoulders. “You’re all so obsessed with my past and my secrets?  Then fucking google me.  Don’t bring this shit into the locker room.”

He shoved away from Jack, his skin still prickling with untapped panic, with the need to run.  He ignored it though, trudging toward the court to remind him why he was still there.  Exy distracted him until he forgot who Neil was, who Nathaniel was, who Abram was. He became just a body whose sole mission was to get the ball into the goal.  No one needed a solid identity to do that.

On court, he broke himself down until he was just muscle, bone, sinew, only parts of a whole.  A machine.

~

“Stop it.”

“Stop me,” a rough voice whispered in his ear.  A knife dragged down his thumb, tears welled in his eyes, a scream begged to be let loose.  Nathaniel stayed silent, squeezing his eyes shut until that tension distracted him. He stayed remarkably still while Lola made slow work of the rest of his fingers before setting her sights on the tattoo on his cheekbone.  The knife made shallow cuts around the four, but Lola’s smile hinted at something more sinister.  She held an empty hand out.  Nathaniel turned and saw his mother hand Lola the dashboard lighter.

“I told you how dangerous this was.  I thought you were smarter than this,” she said, hands gripped firm on the steering wheel until her knuckles were white.  Her brown eyes flickered with a rage he’d seen so often when he was younger.  “What did I tell you?  don’t look back, don’t slow down, and don’t trust anyone.”

“Be anyone but yourself, and never be anyone for too long,” Nathaniel finished for her.  Her expression changed at once, melting into a soft, almost proud smile.  She reached one hand out and ran it along his jaw.

“Oh, Abram,” she said a second before the car burst into flames.

~

He woke up in the basement.  The air around him already smelled putrid, metallic.  He saw the outline of a figure standing over him, but he couldn’t make out any detail other than the bloody axe he held in one hand and the thin delicate knife in the other.

“Hello, Junior,” his father said, but his voice was too far.  He was by the wall, next to a smiling, rotting Riko. Nathaniel scrambled back until he hit the wall, bristling at the dirt that dug into the fresh cuts on his hands. “I brought some friends along.”

Nathaniel looked back to the figure that loomed over him and choked back a scream. Andrew was smiling wide, trickles of blood falling from the side of his head, the same expression he’d worn after Drake.  Everything in Nathaniel’s body recoiled.

“It’s really a cruel world, isn’t it, Nathaniel?  You came so far, salvaged the unsalvageable, crafted yourself a real identity, and yet we all end up here, don’t we?” Andrew said, advancing with each word.  He knelt in front of Nathaniel, swinging his knife around in graceful arcs around their heads.  “I’d planned this so many times, but now I’m not sure where to start.”

“The legs,” Nathan supplied behind him.  Andrew’s smile widened as his hand circled around Nathaniel’s ankle.  He stood, dragging him across the gravel. Nathaniel couldn’t help the scream that tore through his lips.

“No, Drew, no don’t do this,” Nathaniel begged.  He tried to find purchase as he was dragged, but it only ruined his hands further.  He tried to kick at Andrew’s grip, fought with every inch of energy in his body. Nothing helped.  “Drew, look at me.  Please don’t do this.”

Andrew froze.  He stared down at Nathaniel, untampered violence burning in his eyes.  The manic smile dropped, replaced by the twisted lip of anger.

“I don’t like that word,” Andrew growled, throwing Nathaniel’s leg down. He followed it with a swing of the axe, imbedding it deep in Nathaniel’s shin.  He screamed and writhed on the floor, pinned by his father’s axe and his boyfriend’s hand.  His cries brought the smile back onto Andrew’s face and he continued hacking away at Nathaniel’s legs before moving onto his arms.  His screams filled the room, brought smiles to everyone else’s faces, and drowned Nathaniel into unconsciousness.

~

Neil woke with a start in a sweat drenched bed. He struggled against the blankets wrapped around his legs, throwing them off to the side.  His breath was trying to escape him, coming out in rough, uneven spurts.  The clock next to his bed said 3:52, March 9.  A weight settled heavy on his chest.

Immediately, his body set into motion, tugging on shoes, grabbing the nearest sweatshirt he could find, stuffing his phone and keys into his pockets, and running as fast as he could out of that dorm and away from Palmetto.

Each step was a shock to his system, reminding him that he was awake, he was alive.  He’d beaten them.

He entertained the thought of calling Andrew, of hearing his voice for just a second, but it seemed ridiculous. Nightmares were a mundane occurrence for both of them.  Nothing to get worked up over.  He was fine. He had to be fine.

He pushed himself as hard as he possibly could, ignoring the throbbing in his ankles or the burn in his lungs.  As long as he could hear his father’s voice, the echoes of his scream, the desperate edge of his voice as he begged, he ran. Until he could shed the feeling of Nathaniel, feel comfortable in his own skin, he ran.  Until he could forget the image of Andrew, drugged and frantic, smiling over him as he carved into him, he ran.

It felt like he would never stop running.

He eventually made it back to Fox Tower, unharmed and exhausted, at 6 am.  His feet dragged on the floor as he made his way to the room.  He fell into bed, expecting sleep to come easy.  When he closed his eyes, he felt the pain all over again.

~

They’d lost.  They’d lost to the fucking Bearcats by one point.  They weren’t out of championships yet, their last two-point totals saving their pathetic performance, but it should’ve been easy. They’d beaten better teams before. Their game was fucked up, and Neil knew exactly why.

He couldn’t get out of his head the entire game. Each person he faced was his father, each voice he heard was Lola, each check was his mother.  There was nowhere else for his brain to go.  He’d benched himself during the first half, but his subs hadn’t fared much better.  It’d been four fucking years.  Why couldn’t he be done with this?

He sat on the bench, hands digging through his sweaty hair, pulling at each strand.  Exy was supposed to be the one thing he was good at and he couldn’t even do that right.  He couldn’t even muster the energy to shower.  He was useless.

Footsteps echoed off the empty locker room, each step spiking Neil’s irritation.  He kept his head in his hands, bent over in half.

“I don’t have the fucking patience right now,” he growled.

“What the fuck is going on?” Andrew asked. Neil’s head snapped up, his breath leaving him in one sigh.  The weight of Andrew’s hand on the back of Neil’s neck silenced the world and left just the two of them.  Neil’s mind quieted, the endless critiques ended.  He closed his eyes.

“It’s been four years,” Neil said, rubbing the heel of his hands against his eyes until he saw stars.  Andrew’s hand tightened on his neck and forced Neil to look at him with a hand under his chin.  They studied each other in silence, Neil filled with exhausted relief, Andrew with cold determination.  He kneeled down on the tiles, eyebrow cocked, perplexed.

“You were fine the past two years,” he noted. Neil scoffed, running his hands over the raised scars over his forearms and knuckles.

“You were here.”  The words passed through his lips and Neil registered just how true they were.  He hadn’t had to go through the convoluted process of grieving over nothing and the continuous nightmares alone yet.  This had been the first year since his Foxes had graduated, and though the faces on his team were familiar, it felt all too much like his life before he’d become a real person.

“You haven’t slept.”  It wasn’t a question, but Neil shook his head anyway.  Andrew stood and stepped away.  Any semblance of energy he’d amounted fled with Andrew’s touch. A selfish whine pushed through his lips. “Get up.  You stink.”

Neil did as he was told with a huff, following as Andrew directed him, hand fisted in the back of Neil’s jersey.  Even with just a hand at his back, he felt supported enough to fully breathe.  He would be caught if he fell, an insurance he’d needed for too long.  He pressed the slightest bit back into Andrew’s hand.

Andrew pushed him into a stall, sending a pointed look at Neil’s uniform, and turned the water on.  Neil slowly peeled his layers off, tossing them onto dry tile, until he was naked and shaking.  His muscles couldn’t relax, buzzed from the game, from the anniversary, from Andrew. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to stop anymore.

He walked into the warm spray, allowed himself to become engulfed by the water.  Droplets ran down his skin in small waves of minute bliss, the first pleasant thing Neil had felt all day.  He breathed in as deeply as the steam would allow.  His hands ran lightly over his chest and shoulders, massaging the tender and bruising spots.  His muscles relaxed with each passing second until he felt like he could do another ten games.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked behind him.  Neil automatically said yes, sighing as Andrew’s fingers slid into his hair.  He leaned into the touch, humming his approval.  The longer Andrew washed his hair, the more Neil leaned on him.  He wasn’t particularly gentle, but his touch was soothing each of Neil’s open wounds.  A salve on the frayed nerves stressed by years of torture, of running, of forcing himself to be everything he was not.  He could breathe around Andrew without the immense sense of dread he used to deal with after each decision, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Andrew made quick work of the rest of Neil’s body, then set him against the wall as he washed and rinsed himself.  He’d shut the water off when Neil moved, stepping in front of Andrew and framing his face with his hands.

“Yes or no?” he asked, the beginnings of a smile flickering on his lips.  Andrew’s eyes betrayed him slightly, darting down to catch on Neil’s mouth.

His hands rested on Neil’s hips as he breathed out his yes, meeting him in the middle.  The kiss was slow, unhurried, something so unlike the rhythm they’d built up for themselves: desperate, hands grabbing wherever they could get purchase, exploring each other as if it was the first and last time they’d touch each other.  This was a slow rainfall on a cloudy day, soft, inviting, undeniably necessary after such a long time.

Neil’s hands thread through Andrew’s hair, pressing closer to him until he could feel every inch of their bodies touching.  He didn’t have the usual burn of desire coursing through his veins, but a simpler need for comfort.  Neil pulled back and rested his head on Andrew’s shoulder.

“Get dressed.  I don’t want to spend the weekend in this locker room,” Andrew said, squeezing slightly on Neil’s hips.  He nodded, but took a second longer than he needed to before stepping back.

Despite the numbness tingling in Neil’s toes, he grabbed his dirty clothes and trekked back to his locker.  He pulled his spare clothes on, only getting halfway before his arms gave out.  His shirt fell around his neck as he huffed a sigh of defeat.  His upper body wasn’t working at all.  It seemed the most he could do was keep himself upright on the bench.

“You’re pathetic,” Andrew mused, shoving his arms through his shirt.  Neil shrugged, eyes still trained on the floor.  The struggle of the last few weeks, the high of playing the game, the low of losing to such an easy opponent, the buzz of having Andrew within reach, all mixed together to make an effective cocktail of bone deep fatigue. He couldn’t argue with him.  Not when his entire existence seemed to beg otherwise.

“Thank you so much,” he drawled.  Even out of the corner of his eye, Neil could see Andrew’s exaggerated eye roll as he stepped forward.  He aided Neil’s arms through each sleeve, taking a step back.  His thumb flicked across the burn scars on Neil’s cheek. Neil couldn’t stifle the wince as if Andrew had touched raw skin.  His hand ripped back within a second.  “No, Drew, you didn’t-”

“Yes or no, Abram?”

Neil’s mouth snapped shut.  The sound of that name elicited a contradiction of reactions. Andrew’s voice, the soft way he’d said the name, spread a contented warmth through his stomach.  The sound of his mother’s voice layered on top rose bile in his throat.

“Yes,” he bit out because Andrew’s presence was stronger.  Andrew set his hands on his shoulders, swinging a leg behind the bench, effectively placing himself mostly in Neil’s lap.  The other leg swung over and Neil’s hands darted toward Andrew’s waist.  He caught himself at the last minute as his hands hovered an inch above his skin.  After Andrew nodded, Neil’s arms tightened around him like a lifeline.

“You’re at Palmetto State, inside the Foxes locker room.”  Andrew pressed a kiss to the base of the knife scars across Neil’s jaw.  “You’re Neil Josten, number 10, starting striker.” Andrew trailed up the thin lines, lips dragging against hypersensitive skin.  “Nathaniel is dead.  You’re never going back to Baltimore.”  He turned to Neil’s other cheek, letting the kiss linger just a second longer than the others.  “You’re staying here.”  He punctuated it with a kiss to his lips.  No longer than a heart beat but more than enough to steady Neil.

Andrew’s hands dipped into the sides of his shirt, fingers playing idly with the puckered skin of old scars.  His nails scraped against some, sending sharp tingles throughout his body.  He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his lips.

He buried his face into Andrew’s chest.  The smell of stale cigarettes and after shave wiped away the rest of the lingering doubts, solidifying him in the present.  Andrew pressed his face into Neil’s wet hair, the feeling of a phantom kiss ghosting across his skin.  It only deepened his smile.

“Thank you.”

“374%.”

[wematch]

Only You

In their second year a deal is made. Andrew wants to explore his boundaries and there’s really just one person he trusts around himself.

Set in a universe where everything is the same except that Andrew never kissed Neil on the rooftop that night. Instead, they just got closer and more comfortable around each other.

Read from the start if you haven’t yet! [Part 1]

You can also read it on [AO3]

As always a huge thank you to @velvetnoodle for being an amazing beta <3

Part 3

Neil throws the ball at Kevin, but Andrew intercepts the ball easily and throws it to the other side of the court — almost catching Mike’s feet in the process. Neil furrows his brow and runs to the middle of the court. He knows that Andrew has been making Mike a target at practice since yesterday he just hasn’t figured out the why yet.

Minutes later, Neil winces as he watches Mike get successfully hit on the head, making him stumble and lose the grip on his racket which drops to the floor. The whole team stops at the sound of it echoing through the walls and Allison snorts at the whole situation; Neil sees some of the others trying to hide their grins, while others don’t hide them at all. Mike finally done, takes off his helmet, throws it to the floor, and begins to walk in the direction of Andrew. Neil curses under his breath and runs to try to stop him, but Matt, who’s right behind Mike, immediately grabs him.

Once Neil reaches them, he tells them all to take a break, and it’s only when Matt pushes Mike out of the court and closes the door behind them that Neil jogs to where Andrew is and stops right in front of him to catch his attention. “We can't play if you injure him," he points out.

Andrew looks bored and rests his racket on his shoulders. “Maybe he should focus more on learning how to play, instead of on your ass."

Embarrassed, Neil starts to blush and takes his helmet off. Mike isn’t completely stupid, Kevin had picked him for the team because he had potential so the dumb questions about Exy in the last couple of practices weren’t making any sense. Until now. He runs his hand through the hair that Allison hadn’t shaved at the top unsure of what to think about this. “Can we just focus on the real problem here?”

“You are the problem," Andrew points out. “You don't shut them down clearly enough.”

“I can't just ignore him; I'm vice-captain,” Neil replies, ignoring the fact that Andrew is not just talking about Mike.

“I'm getting tired of people not getting the message,” Andrew says in a bored tone, but the message is clear as water to Neil. They made a deal and Andrew is going to hold his part of it no matter what.

Neil grimaces and wonders if this will become a problem for the team. He just wants to be left alone. “Just don't injure him,” he says firmly before he starts to jog to the middle of the court again.

Once practice is over and they’re about to head off from the locker rooms, Nicky comes to talk to Neil excitedly about the trip to Columbia they’re going to make as soon as they leave the stadium. Neil distracted by Nicky, takes his bag from the locker and without noticing knocks his empty bottle to the floor. Mike who was in the lockers in front of them rushes to catch it from the floor and when it’s clear that Neil hadn’t even noticed him picking it up, he grabs Neil arm to catch his attention and give it to him.

Immediately, Neil jumps back at the unexpected touch and one second later Andrew is pushing Mike against the lockers with a knife to his throat.

“What the f—” Mike starts.

“I’ll only say this once,” Andrew interrupts him. “Don’t touch him again unless he tells you to.”

Matt is about to reach Andrew and Neil puts himself on the way. “Don’t,” he tells him, and Matt looks between Andrew and Neil, and stops just a few inches away from them.

“I just wanted—” Mike stops talking mid-sentence when Andrew presses the knife closer to his throat making him wince.

Matt steps closer almost touching Neil, so Neil tries to take a step back but feels Andrew’s arm against his back. He puts his arm in Matt’s path in a last attempt for Matt not get involved. “Let them talk,” he insists and receives a warning look from Matt but Neil doesn’t back down so Matt remains where he is.

After seeing from the corner of his eye that Matt has stopped coming his way, Andrew turns his attention to Mike once again. “Let me make myself clear, he’s not interested so leave him alone. Got it? Or next time I won’t play nice,” he warns him in a low tone that Neil struggles to hear.

“Okay, I just didn’t know—”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Wymack interrupts Mike when he enters the locker room and takes in what’s happening. “Let him go now, Minyard.”

Andrew steps back and turns to face Wymack over Neil. “Don’t worry coach, our little chat is done now,” Andrew says and turns his attention back to Mike’s terrified face while he puts his knife away.

No one moves until Andrew steps around Neil and grabs his bag. Then he starts to walk in the direction of the entrance.“ Let’s go,” he says without looking back.

Neil immediately moves to grab his own bag and follow Andrew outside but when he’s about to pass Wymack by the door, he’s stopped by a hand in front of him.

“Do we have a problem here?” Wymack asks, studying Neil.

“No, Coach,” Neil tells him, and when Wymack doesn’t remove his hand he adds, “Andrew gave him a fair warning, there won’t be a problem unless Mike doesn’t listen.”

Nicky stops right behind Neil, wanting to leave the locker room as soon as possible after what happened. He looks curiously between Neil and the coach to see what’s the hold-up, but Wymack removes his hand and nods at Neil understanding the implications of what could happen if Mike kept pushing Andrew’s patience. “I’ll talk to him,” he says to Neil, then he turns to the others. “Now, get out of my sight!”

“Yes, Coach!” Neil and Nicky half shout before exiting with Kevin and Aaron right behind them.

As soon as Andrew sees them stepping out of the doors, he takes a long drag of his cigarette, lets it drop to the floor, and steps on it before he enters the vehicle. The others don’t take long to enter the car. They make a short stop at the dorms to change clothes and grab their stuff for the weekend and then they head out to Columbia.

***

They pull up into the parking lot at Sweetie’s to eat dessert for dinner like they’ve done many times before. After they’re done eating they head off to Eden’s Twilight and by the time they reach the club, it’s fully packed and it takes them a while to find an empty table. Once they find one, Neil follows Andrew to the bar to pick up the drinks while the others stay at the table.

Neil stops right behind Andrew when he manages to reach the counter. It doesn’t take long for Andrew to see Roland looking up in their general direction and signal to them. Neil curses when he feels himself being slightly pushed towards Andrew by the crowd. He turns toward the person that bumped into him to give him an annoyed look, but the guy behind him immediately starts to smile apologetically. “Oh, hey sorry about that,” the guy starts, “how about I pay you—”

“How about no,” Andrew interrupts him annoyed, turning his head around to look at the guy. “Just go.”

The guy puts his hands in the air and turns around,looking unbothered. They both watch him leave and Neil is about to speak when Roland’s voice comes right behind them. “I’d appreciate if you don’t scare the customers away,” he says, but when Neil turns to look back at the counter he finds him only smirking at them.

“Piss off,” Andrew tells him.

“Relax, that was fun to watch,” Roland says looking between the two of them. “So, the usual?” He asks, placing two shots in front of them.

Andrew drinks the shot and answers, “Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back,” Roland says moving to the end of the counter to prepare their drinks.

Andrew then looks at Neil and when Neil shakes his head, he grabs the other shot and drinks it too in a quick motion.

Not long after, Rolland appears in front of them with a tray full of drinks, so Neil makes a path for Andrew to follow him with the tray towards the others. Once they get to the table Kevin and Aaron start to drink so fast that one would think they were in a competition to see who can get completely wasted first, and soon they head off towards the dance floor with Nicky, leaving Neil and Andrew behind as usual.

***

The next day they’re all in the living room watching a movie when Andrew silently gets up. At the movement, Neil looks up and meets his eyes for a second, and Andrew motions with his head for him to follow.

They go outside and sit on the steps. Andrew lights a cigarette takes a long drag and passes it to Neil, who lets it burn down between his fingers. They keep sharing it in silence until it’s done, then Andrew extends his arm as if waiting for something. It takes a moment for Neil to understand what, but then he copies the movement and extends his arm too.

Andrew puts his hand palm up to Neil and keeps staring in front of them. “Go on, if you want,” Andrew tells him quietly. Neil slowly reaches for it and pulls Andrew’s hand towards him barely touching him. Andrew says nothing about it so Neil takes it as a good sign and inspects his hand. He can feel the warmth of his skin and the callous in his hands just like the ones he has. He turns Andrew’s hand and traces every small scar with his finger. Then he moves his hand under Andrew’s and grabs it for a moment.

Neil studies their hands together wondering what exactly they’re doing; what it all means to them. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to stop it, he wants to memorize every inch of Andrew.

The sound of footsteps coming towards them snaps Neil out of his thoughts and he lets go of Andrew’s hand the moment Kevin opens the door. Neil turns his head to face him wanting to know the reason he’s interrupting them and Andrew doesn’t move at all.

“Tomorrow can we go back to campus sooner?” Kevin asks, looking at Andrew’s back.

“If you’re going to ask me to go back earlier on a Sunday because you want to practice think again,” Andrew responds without moving to look at Kevin.

“We need to practice there’s a game coming up,” Kevin insists, now choosing to look at Neil in search of support.

“We can practice Monday,” Neil tells him, he loves playing Exy but right now he’s annoyed at Kevin for interrupting them and he just wants him to leave them alone.

Kevin glares at him for siding with Andrew. “Monday night we’re going to practice until later,” he tells them pissed.

“Fuck off,” Andrew says, clearly done with the conversation and Kevin turns to leave slamming the door behind himself.

[Part 4]

[emmerrr]

♖ andreil pls (bc as Charles Boyle would say "That's the most intimate thing you can do to a lover with your fingers")

listEN I lost it when I saw this in my askbox, charles is who I thought of immediately when I saw that prompt! I’m gonna combine it with some other prompts I hope that’s okay!

anonymous asked: i’m living for these prompts! i love your writing! everything is so soft and lovely 😊 😍❤️ if you have time can you do andreil and ♟?? it seems to suit them ;) [thank you so much :) ]

anonymous asked:♗ Andreil I love your writing!!! [thanks!]

anonymous asked:Andreil prompt; ♢: Forehead or cheek kisses

anonymous asked:hello, could i please have ♣ or ♚ with andreil? btw just wanted to tell you how much i love the fics you write. you’re a wonderful writer and i adore you [thanks you’re the sweetest!]

♖: Having their hair washed by the other

♟: Patching up a wound

♗: One falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap.

♢: Forehead or cheek kisses

♣: Back scratches or ♚: Head scratches

SUPER COMBO. LET’S GO! read on ao3]

as of now, I only have one andreil prompt left to do but I think I’m probably gonna leave it a few weeks because I want to do something christmassy with it. bear with me, anon! also I wrote a renison prompt which you can find here if that’s your thing.

please don’t send me anymore! :)

*warnings for brief blood mention and a minor injury.*

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Neil said, looking up from the sports pages with a frown. There was an article in there about Kevin that Neil wanted to cut out and frame just to annoy Andrew.

The man himself was leaning against the kitchen counter, a bread-roll in his hand that he was slicing with a sharp knife, the blade inching ever closer to Andrew’s palm.

“Do what,” Andrew asked with absolutely no inflection.

“That,” Neil said. Andrew knew full-well what he was talking about; it had been brought up many times before. “One of these days you’re going to cut your hand, and I won’t feel sorry for you.”

The look Andrew shot Neil was dripping with derision. “I do this nearly every day and it hasn’t happened yet.”

“It only takes once.”

Andrew rolled his eyes but made no further reply, and Neil returned his attention to the paper, Kevin’s triumphant game-winning grin staring back at him. The season had just drawn to a close, Kevin’s team narrowly beating out Matt’s in the final. Neil and Andrew’s team had lost to Kevin’s in the semi-final; it still stung, but Neil was proud anyway, of himself and Andrew and the rest of their team. He was even prouder of Kevin.

For now though, he was just looking forward to an extended break. He’d been quietly pleased when Andrew had joined him for a run this morning, and now back, he was planning on hopping in the shower as soon as he’d finished with the paper. Maybe he’d be able to convince Andrew to join him there, too.

“Neil.”

“Hm?”

“You can say ‘I told you so’ if you want.”

“What?” Neil looked up and Andrew was holding his hand over the sink, dripping blood. “Oh fuck, Andrew.”

Neil was out of his chair in an instant and over to the sink. He took Andrew’s wrist and gently turned it over so he could see the wound. Across Andrew’s palm was a thin line; not deep, but still bleeding.

“Is it deep?” Andrew asked. He wasn’t looking at his injured hand but the slight furrow on his brow indicated that it was causing him some discomfort. “I’m not going to the hospital. If it needs stitches, you can do it.”

“It’s not that bad,” Neil said. He turned the tap on and rinsed Andrew’s hand underneath, then grabbed some kitchen paper and stuffed it onto the cut until he could hunt down their well-stocked first-aid kit. “You won’t need stitches.”

He pulled Andrew over to the kitchen table and sat him down, then took Andrew’s other hand and pressed it against the paper towels. “Hold those there, I’ll be right back.”

It took Neil a couple of minutes to track down the first-aid kit in the bathroom. It got more use than he’d like, thanks to the rough nature of their jobs, not to mention Neil was a little accident-prone.

Back in the kitchen, he sat down opposite Andrew and dug through the kit, pulling out disinfectant and bandages. He held his hand out expectantly, and Andrew dropped his injured one straight into it.

Neil carefully pulled away the paper towels and put them aside. “This might sting a little,” he said, and set about cleaning the wound with disinfectant.

Andrew sat through the whole thing in stoic silence, not even a wince as Neil cleaned him up then carefully set about wrapping a bandage around his hand. It wasn’t until Neil was finishing up and taping the bandage in place that Andrew finally spoke up.

“Just fucking say it, Neil.”

“I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’,” Neil said with a sigh. He pressed down on the tape and inspected his handiwork. Satisfied, he got up and packed the first-aid kit away, aware of Andrew watching him the entire time. He smiled, then leaned down and kissed Andrew’s forehead. “I did fucking tell you, though.”

“There it is.”

As it happened, Andrew did end up in the shower with Neil, albeit more out of necessity than anything else. They had to bag his hand so the bandage didn’t get wet, and showering one-handed wasn’t exactly the easiest of tasks.

Neil hurriedly washed his own hair then turned his attention to Andrew. The second his fingers were in Andrew’s hair, hazel eyes slid shut.

“I remember,” Neil said thoughtfully as he lathered up Andrew’s blond hair, “when you had to do this for me.”

Andrew’s eyes flickered back open. “Well, if we’re taking a trip down memory lane, that’s not the only thing I did for you.”

Only Andrew could reference a blow job with such a disinterested expression, and Neil snorted a laugh. “I could do that too. If you want.”

Andrew hummed, considering. “Maybe later. Tired.”

“Okay,” Neil said fondly, before gently guiding Andrew’s head under the spray to rinse him off. “Now. Do you want the conditioner that smells like mangoes or the one that smells like vanilla?”

Andrew eyed the mango one with great distaste. “Vanilla. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Neil repeated, smiling as he squeezed some out into his hand. He worked it into Andrew’s hair. “So. What do you wanna do for the rest of the day.”

Andrew shrugged. “Nap first. I don’t care what we do later.”

“What do you need a nap for?”

Andrew glanced up at Neil. “Someone got me out of bed ridiculously early to go for a run.”

“Hey,” Neil chided. “You got up of your own accord. It’s not my fault you couldn’t bear to be without me for an hour.”

Andrew’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t deny it.

Neil grinned. With Andrew, it was so often in what he didn’t say, and Neil took these victories where he could.

Once out of the shower and dressed, Neil went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee and clean up the mess Andrew had made when he cut his hand.

When it was tidy, Neil leaned back against the counter and waited for the coffee machine to beep. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages. There were three unread; one from Matt, one from Nicky, one from Allison. He replied to Matt’s and Allison’s, but Andrew was going to call Nicky later anyway, so Neil could talk to him then.

He poured out two mugs of coffee and made his way over to the living room, but he paused in the doorway and watched for a moment because Andrew seemed to be having some sort of muted stand-off with the cats.

Andrew was sitting on the far seat of the sofa, glaring down at Sir and King who had spread themselves over the rest of it. They were clearly getting in the way of Andrew’s napping idea.

Neil cleared his throat lightly and Andrew looked up. “Come and move your useless fur-babies.”

“You move them,” Neil said, entering the room at last. “Just pick them up and put them on the floor.” He put the mugs on the coffee table.

“If I pick them up, they win,” Andrew said stubbornly. “Also, I’m injured.” He illustrated this by holding up his bandaged hand.

Neil looked at Andrew. Andrew looked back.

“You,” Neil said, “are a ridiculous human being.” He hoisted up a cat under each arm and deposited them on the floor, then sat down and reached for his coffee. As soon as he was sitting back, Andrew spread himself along the sofa, resting his head in Neil’s lap.

“This is a preemptive measure,” he explained tiredly. “So the cats don’t jump back up here.”

Neil took a sip of coffee and laughed lightly. “You know that won’t stop them, right?”

As if they were listening, both cats jumped up within seconds of each other. Sir settled down behind Andrew’s knees, King in front of his chest. Andrew huffed a very put upon sigh, but magnanimously refrained from shoving them off.

“Look at that,” Neil said. “Progress.”

“Shut. Up.”

Neil laughed again and leaned back a little more. He carefully lifted his feet and rested them on the coffee table, earning him a tiny annoyed grunt when he jostled Andrew’s head.

“Alright, alright,” he said, and settled his free hand in Andrew’s hair. “I was just getting comfy.” He scratched lightly at Andrew’s head and then stilled his hand.

A couple of seconds ticked by, then Andrew grunted again.

“What?” Neil asked.

Another grunt, this time punctuated by Andrew pushing his head into Neil’s hand just a little, until he got the message and started scratching again.

“You can use your words, y’know,” Neil said, but he couldn’t honestly say he minded having Andrew warm and comfortable and safe under his hands.

Andrew didn’t respond because he was also incredibly difficult, a trait that was often infuriating but occasionally endearing. Such as now.

By the time Neil had drained his coffee, Andrew’s breathing had gone suspiciously deep and even.

“Andrew,” Neil whispered. “Your coffee’s gonna go cold.”

But Andrew was most definitely asleep, and most definitely did not currently care about his coffee.

It was fine. Neil would make him more when he woke up.

Moving with painstaking slowness so as to minimise jostling Andrew, Neil put his mug back on the table. Then he leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the sounds of his cats obnoxious purring and Andrew’s soft breathing lull him to sleep.

He was home.

[andrewjostenzarchive]

Oh Death

2466 words of Kevaaron. Enjoy. <3

Kevin's been playing professionally for ten years now. He still lives and breathes exy, but he also found other things that bring him joy. History. Documentaries. Cooking. Aaron.

Aaron is a chief physician in his hospital. It's a stressful job, but very rewarding. Both of this means, though, that they have trouble meeting up. When Kevin is off, Aaron sometimes has to do a double shift at the hospital. But as long as they have each other, they don't mind. Especially in the offseason when Aaron also takes a vacation.

It's shortly before Christmas and they are both home. Kevin is in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Aaron sets the table up. It's weirdly domestic and Aaron still has trouble to believe that all of this is real.

In the background the TV is on. It's some history documentary that Kevin chose. They already watched it ten times, but Aaron doesn't mind. He likes to see Kevin smile. While they eat, they hold hands, caressing each other's skin. This is when the call comes.

Kevin frowns and looks at Aaron. Latter one just shrugs his shoulders. They barely get calls. Mostly they just use skype to keep in contact with their family. Kevin gets up and grabs the phone. "Minyard-Day?"

Kevin's face falls in a matter of seconds. His skin goes pale and his hands start shaking. Quickly Aaron jumps up and walks to him. "Where?" Aaron searches for an answer in Kevin's face, but can't find one. His heart is dropping more and more the longer he waits. "We're on our way."

"What happened?" Aaron asks after Kevin carelessly throws the phone onto the table. "My dad ... he had a stroke. They put him in a hospital."

Kevin wants to leave instantly, but Aaron orders him to sit down while he quickly packs a few things. Kevin's mind is hazy, he doesn't know what to do. Aaron comes back with a jacket over his arm. "Babe, come on." He helps him up and into his jacket before grabbing the bags. Kevin heads to the driver's side, but Aaron stops him. "I drive. It's okay."

Nothing is okay. Nothing. Kevin still shakes when he sits inside. "We gotta get to him."

"I know. We will." Aaron squeezes Kevin's hand while going way too much over the speed limit to the airport.

"I can't lose him," Kevin says, his face twisted in pain.

Aaron feels a knife pressing into his heart. "You won't." He doesn't know if it's true, but oh god, he hopes.

Aaron does all the talking at the airport. Kevin tries his best to hold it together while his thoughts get faster and faster. Why did it happen so soon? Should he have spent more time with him? Oh god, why was he so focused on exy? Was it his fault? In the airplane Aaron just holds Kevin and whispers soothing stuff into his ear until at least most of the shaking stops. Kevin is too paralyzed to share his fears, though, so he just keeps them to themselves. Aaron seems to feel it, but he just kisses the top of Kevin's head.

He can hold Kevin, but he can't save him from his own thoughts.

As they don't have a car, they go with a taxi. It's the horror for Kevin to sit still while the driver could be so much faster. He visibly tenses and Aaron is quick to notice. "I'll give you two hundred bucks more if you drive like hell is loose." The driver doesn't need to hear that twice.

After three near-death experiences, they reach the hospital. Aaron feels like throwing up - he thought Andrew drives bad - but Kevin jumps out before the car even completely stopped and runs to the hospital. Aaron sprints after him after he just pressed a wad of notes into the driver's hand. When he arrives, Kevin already set off to the stairs, probably knowing which room Wymack is in. It is hard to keep up, but he ignores his stitches in the side and runs after him.

Kevin bursts through the door without even knocking, Aaron in tow. He instantly freezes and Aaron looks around him to see what's going on. Wymack is pale. Extraordinary pale. He lies on the bed, a mass of tubes in him. His breathing is weak and his eyes are closed. Abby sits right next to him, holding onto his hand for dear life. She looks up at their arrival and manages the smallest of smiles. Her eyes are red, but she is probably done crying.

Kevin still stands still like this all isn't real. Aaron softly nudges him until he begins to move, heading slowly to his father. Aaron closes the door and follows him. His throat is tight. He's never seen Wymack like this. He's been always so strong and fierce. Now he looks like a shadow of his old self. He goes to stand next to Abby while Kevin sits down on the other side, his eyes never leaving Wymack's face. "Dad?" His voice breaks, and with it, Aaron's heart.

Wymack moves, but only ever so slightly. He opens his eyes, a weak smile playing on his lips. "Hey son."

Kevin breathes in and out a few times, obviously struggling to keep his cool. "Dad, what happened?"

Wymack tries to wave his right hand, but fails. "Don't worry about me."

Aaron can't stand to see this any longer. He needs to talk to a doctor. Because from what he sees, it definitely doesn't look good for him. "Kevin?" Kevin doesn't move, but Aaron knows he heard him. "I'll be right back. Promise."

"Where are you going?" Now Kevin's head snaps up, looking slightly scared at Aaron.

"I'm just gonna get the doctor. Don't worry."

"I'm gonna go with you, I haven't walked in hours," Abby says, squeezing Wymack's hand before also getting up. Kevin sits down while they leave the room.

Abby goes to get herself some coffee while Aaron heads to a nurse and asks for the doctor. He finds him shortly after and asks him about Wymack. The doctor's face seems troubled. That's all that Aaron needed to know. He just wants to head back as he hears a loud scream. Kevin.

He's repeating "Dad" over and over again. Aaron arrives at the door and sees the spilled cup of coffee on the floor. Abby.

Aaron barges in. "What happened?"

He doesn't need an answer after a look on the screen. Wymack's heart stopped beating. He shoves his feelings aside and gets in doctor mode. He steps by Abby, opening up Wymack's flannel and starting a cardiac massage while ordering Abby to get a doctor. Kevin's face is a mess of tears while he still holds onto his father. Doctor and nurses barge in. "We need a CPR stat!", Aaron says before giving him rescue breathing. He hears Kevin's protests as a nurse wants him to step away, but he is totally focused on Wymack right now. He hears how Abby takes Kevin away.

They fight for his life for a few minutes, but nothing. In the end, they have to give up. "Time of death: 02:05 pm," Aaron says with numb lips. He doesn't dare to look at Kevin while the other doctor leaves the room, letting the rest of the work to the nurses. He just sinks down onto the chair, burying his face in his hands. He doesn't think any patients' death hit him as hard as this. Wymack was like a father to him and a real dad to Kevin. And now he's gone.

Finally, he dares to look up. Kevin knees on the floor, staring blankly at Wymack who's been covered with a shroud. Abby has a hand put on his shoulder while tears stream over her face.

They sit like that for a while. Abby is the first one to move. "I'm gonna call the others," she means with a hoarse voice. The door closes behind her with a soft click. It seems like that wakes Kevin up from his frozen state.

Kevin's face is a grimace. Aaron stands up, but barely gets the chance to walk to him as Kevin jumps up. He pushes Aaron against the wall, hard. Aaron stops breathing for a few seconds while Kevin shakes him. "You promised he won't. You promised," Kevin sobs, fisting Aaron's flannel. "You promised. You lied. You liar!"

Aaron's eyes begin to water too. "Kev-"

Kevin slowly sinks down, still shaking Aaron. "You lied. You lied to me." He begins hitting him weakly with his fists.

"I'm sorry," Aaron says, his voice shaking. He slowly grabs Kevin's wrist, stopping him from punching him. He sinks also down while Kevin holds onto him for dear life. "I'm so sorry."

Aaron wraps his arm around Kevin, holds him while they both cry. Kevin sobs into Aaron's shirt, but he couldn't care less. He holds onto him. And holds. Holds until the shaking gets less. Until the sobs get quieter. Until the only sound in the room is Kevin's ragged breathing. Aaron feels like someone ripped his heart out.

They sit still for a while. Then Aaron slowly leans back a bit, craddling Kevin's face in his hands and wiping away his tears with his thumbs. "I'm here for you. You got me. You always will."

Kevin just nods before leaning his forehead against Aaron's. His breathing slowly evens out and matches Aaron's rhythm.

They both look up as Abby reappears. "I called them."

Aaron helps Kevin get up, slinging an arm around him. He has to be strong for him. They leave the room without looking back once.

As soon as they are in the hotel Aaron booked in the taxi, Kevin heads straight to the mini bar. Aaron lets him. Kevin didn't need alcohol as a crutch for years now. They only had wine at home, nothing strong. But Aaron knows the want to numb your own feelings. And only for today, he will let Kevin do it. He will keep an eye on him.

So he lets Kevin sit between his legs, emptying a vodka bottle in silence. There is no need to speak while he strokes his hair. It feels like a train drove over him. After an hour, Kevin starts dozing off, the last words on his lips being "Aaron". Aaron lies down with him on the small couch, holding him tightly. This night, no sleep finds Aaron.

The next days go by with funeral arrangements. Aaron and Abby organize the most, but Kevin decides the most. He wants it to be perfect.

They just sit in the living room when it knocks. Kevin stands up and opens, expecting Abby, but instead gets nearly hugged to death by Nicky. He is closely followed by Neil and Andrew. Aaron only needs to take one look at Neil's slightly red eyes before he averts his gaze again. "What -" Kevin begins, but Nicky cuts him off.

"We are here for you, Kevin!" With a look at Andrew, Nicky adds: "More or less."

Neil is seemingly too tired to glare at Nicky. Andrew is the first to move again, sitting down next to Aaron and watching him with clear eyes. They don't say anything, just look at each other. After a while, Andrew just gives a short nod. Aaron nods back. They hug each other shortly.

They all sit around the living room table, now also getting involved in the arrangements. Aaron doesn't miss how close Neil sits to Kevin, but he knows both of them were hit the hardest with Wymack's death, so he doesn't mind. Not even as Kevin gets up because it's too much and Neil indicates Aaron to sit down again while he goes after him. Aaron never really understood their friendship, but now he is really grateful for Neil.

Nicky still chatters away, trying to make the silence less heavy while they organize things. It's not pleasant that they only came together in this circumstances, but it feels good to be a whole group - a whole family - again.

For the funeral, they are all dressed in black. It's a beautiful ceremony, but doesn't help to lessen the pain in Aaron's chest. He and Kevin hold hands throughout the whole thing. While the coffin gets lowered into the ground, Aaron feels like Kevin is close to breaking his fingers, but he doesn't mind. They watch as people throw flowers into the hole, saying their last goodbyes. After they all moved on, they are the last two left.

Aaron can see Andrew, Neil and Nicky waiting on a tree a few steps away to give them their privacy.

Aaron throws a single red flower onto the coffin. He never was a very religious person, but he hopes Wymack is well, wherever he is now. He wants to leave to give Kevin some last alone time, but latter one holds him back. "No. Please stay."

Aaron nods, standing next to Kevin.

"Dad ... I already miss you. So much. I'm sorry that I couldn't save you. That I never really had time. Time that we could spend together. But ... I know she would've been proud of you. Us. And I now hope that you are going to be proud of me, too. And I hope that you will watch over me and Aaron and my family. And ... that you see mum again. I hope that you are happy."

Aaron tries to fight the tears in his eyes while Kevin doesn't even care to hide them anymore.

"Thank you for everything. I love you. I always did and always will. Goodbye, Dad." Kevin sucks in a shaky breath after his last words before turning around and falling into Aaron's arms. Aaron holds him tightly, attempting to swallow down the knot in his throat.

The world will never be the same again without Wymack.

Aaron softly kisses Kevin's tears away until he calms down. "Okay?" he whispers.

"Okay," Kevin answers, taking his hand.

They walk over to the others, Nicky embracing Kevin again, then Neil. Aaron looks at Andrew.

Maybe the world will never be the same again without Wymack.

But the world will also be okay.

Their world.

[foxes-evermore]

It wasn’t entirely their fault. “You missed a spot there,” Dan said, indicating on her own neck where the concealer Aaron had hastily dabbed on this morning had rubbed thin. Allison snorted and tapped Renee’s shoulder, pointing with her water bottle, “there, yeah, I see it too. Didn’t know sweet little Katelyn was into into that.” “Shut up,” he said, quickly ridding the panic from his expression and getting up to leave. “Don’t go.” Matt grinned, “you know, it was a rough game yesterday, some bruises are to be expected.” Aaron overheard part of another comment from Dan, and then the sound of his roommate’s laughter before the door closed and hid Aaron’s furious flushed face from them. He put a hand up to his neck, feeling for the mark that was there. For a moment he closed his eyes and was still and allowed his heart to race at the memory of chapped lips and hands and heat, and then he cursed and snuck down the hall into the girls’ empty dorm. He’d pay them back for the makeup later. It wasn’t entirely Andrew’s fault. They hadn’t been to Columbia in almost a month because everyone was busy studying for tests and whatnot- even Kevin was worn out at the end of practice everyday. He was glad to be going now, even though he had to ride crammed between Nicky and the door in the maserati and even though the ice cream at Sweetie’s and the loud music at Eden’s weren’t really his scene. The dim lighting at the club and the mass of moving bodies made it easy to slip away unnoticed. Not that they had to sneak around. Just that it was easier this way, for both of them. They didn’t have to answer questions or deal with gawking teammates. The two had almost lost themselves in the alcohol on each others’ breath when Kevin opened his eyes and spotted Aaron across the room. He narrowed his eyes and straightened up to look, earning him a protest from the boy in his arms. The little blond head looked over, directly at them, and then bobbed through the crowd, seeming to go back towards the tables. Not Aaron. Obviously it was not Aaron. He watched Andrew disappear and then shook the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to his previous engagement. It seemed their peace was not meant to be kept that night though, with the way a hand tangled itself in his hair and gripped tight and pulled. Kevin was turned around, dragged down to eye level. There was Andrew again, now much closer. Right in the taller boy’s face, in fact. He kept one hand still in Kevin’s hair and waved a knife with the other “fuck- Andrew, what the fuck?” A voice behind Kevin demanded angrily. Andrew’s attention didn’t leave Kevin's face though. He scanned it with cold eyes, locked onto the tattoo on his cheek, appearing for an interval to be almost confused. They had hid this from him. Of course he was surprised, and most likely pissed. Not necessarily because he really cared. Only because he made it a habit to know things. Andrew made a rude sound and pressed the knife to Kevin’s throat nearly hard enough to draw blood. He didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. Kevin knew that was the only warning he’d get. It wasn’t entirely Neil’s fault. Aaron hated French. Hated everything about the language. Hated how it sounded and how it looked on paper. It was like grammatical filigree, full of unnecessary lines and flourishes. He found himself learning it, though. Little phrases at first- just enough to be able to curse, and then really mean it when he follows it up with “pardon my french”. That, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t convenient to be able to eavesdrop on Neil and Kevin (even if they only talked exy 90% of the time). So here he was, headphones around his neck playing music and his elbow on the table with his cheek on his fist, jotting down notes on flashcards and half-listening to them talk about which pro-team Kevin should join when he graduates, even though that was still a year or two away. It was something Aaron tried not to think about, Kevin leaving. Not seeing him around the fox tower or on the court anymore. What would the foxhole court even be like once Kevin Day stepped off of it as Palmetto State’s #2 Striker for the last time? He took a deep breath, took a shot and then tried to focus on his cards. Aaron almost smiled to himself at the way Kevin reached over, unthinking, and refilled the small glass for him while still rambling on about- The tip of lead in Aaron’s mechanical pencil broke. He wasn’t fluent in french, but he caught on that Neil was talking about that team. “Thea.” Aaron hadn’t meant to speak. Eyes were on him now, though. Nicky, who looked up from his call with Erik out of curiosity. Andrew, who probably understood about as much of the conversation as Aaron had, and who now tracked his brother and Kevin with measuring eyes. Neil, who had just been about to ask if Kevin was considering joining Muldani’s team. And Kevin. Kevin, who looked surprised. Kevin, who looked cautious. Kevin, who looked as if he wanted to say something, but who knew better in their present company. Aaron cleared his throat, adjusted his headphones, gestured between Kevin and Neil and said, “you were… thinking about playing for the same pro team as Thea? That’s what you guys were… talking about?” “No,” Kevin answered them, “I, uh, I have a few other teams lined up to choose from.” It was enough to bore Nicky and enough to appease Andrew. Neil just nodded and kept talking stats. Kevin went back to bickering with him. Under the table, a fingernail traced a line across Aaron’s knee. He put his free hand down too and laced their fingers together, giving Kevin’s hand a gentle squeeze, which was immediately returned. The fear in him quieted. It wasn’t entirely Nicky’s fault. Kevin didn’t hate Nicky. He was a bit much, a bit loud, a bit all over the place. But he was also the kind of person that grew on you in the oddest way imaginable. Nicky was a half-awake late night run to the convenient store for a bag of ice in the middle of summer. He was a companion on the couch to point out all the obvious references that Kevin didn’t catch from the movies he didn’t get to watch when he was growing up at Evermore. He was someone who cared freely and without hesitation. But he was also someone who never knew when to fucking shut up. Maybe it was Kevin’s fault. They were all dead on their feet on the court. He had been pushing for longer practices and harder drills since they were nearing their final game of the year and were going to play against the Trojans. It made the rest of the foxes down right irritable. But this was the atmosphere in which Nicky seemed to thrive. The more upset people became, the harder he tried to lighten their spirits. He pulled out all the stops. Brought out all the jokes and jibes in his arsenal. Unfortunately, he became even more amorous as well. He clung mostly to Matt, because Matt was kinder- probably even reminded him a little of Erik in some ways. But every now and then he sent an overly dramatic wink towards Kevin. Blew kisses. He whistled and whooped at him across the court when Kevin made a shot at the goal or perfected a technique. It was obvious that it was upsetting Aaron. Kevin had to give Nicky credit, though, it wasn’t until they were getting ready to head to the locker rooms that he really damned himself. Kevin couldn’t bring himself to care when a hand slapped his shoulder and he heard Nicky say “looking good, baby,” as he passed by. He did, however, catch the tuft of blond hair dart by from the corner of his eye. Aaron tripped over a fallen racquet on his way to tackling Nicky, though, and he went down. The older boy spun around at the sound of his cousin yelping in pain and quickly bent down to help him but Aaron just pushed him away. “Fuck off,” he growled, attempting to stand up but landing hard on his ass again. Kevin saw him press a hand to his ankle and wince. He quickly position himself in between his boyfriend and Nicky, scooping Aaron up and gently caring him off the court, setting him on a bench so that he could survey the damage. The foxes were gathering around them. “Are you okay, baby?” Kevin asked, loud enough to stop the others in their tracks. Aaron had been trying to stand again but promptly toppled over at this. Kevin caught him by the arms. “I- my, um- my ankle,” Aaron stuttered, blood rushing to his face and making him red from the tips of his ears down to his chest. Everyone was behind him, so when Kevin smiled, only Aaron saw it. Aaron blinked at the realization that he liked it that way. This wasn’t Kevin’s over animated camera smile. It wasn’t his murderous “wake me up one more time before noon, I dare you” smile. It wasn’t the smile that accompanied his nervous laughter in a fit of panic. It was real, and it was rare, and Aaron wondered how long it had been stifled before Kevin had switched teams. The thought broke his heart. Kevin had knelt down and was checking Aaron’s ankle, but he stood up again now, and as he stood he swept his arms under Aaron’s knees and shoulders, effectively lifting him off the ground once more. “Come on, Baby,” Kevin said, “we’ll get changed and go home so you can prop it up.” Everyone was watching, they had to be. It felt somehow like a tidal wave and a weight off both of their chests all at once. Let them look. Kevin was his. A sense of belonging settled over Aaron. He briefly wondered if this was what Neil felt all times Aaron had seen him fiddling with his keys. It made him hate the small striker a bit less. Because he understood now. It felt like he was coming home. It was all Kevin’s fault.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Happy early Valentine’s Day! This is for @whimsyalice as part of @aftgexchange!!! Yay!!! I wanted to include all your fave ships/characters, so this is more Foxes nonsense than ships! Hope you enjoy! :) 

Use this post for reference

It starts on a Monday. The locker room is a cacophony of chattering voices as the Foxes all arrive for afternoon practice, everyone still thrumming with excitement from Friday night’s win. Neil follows the group in and past the lounge. Allison and Renee have their arms linked and heads bowed together as they make their way into the girls’ changing room. Dan and one of the freshman girls are close behind them, not even pausing their lively conversation as they disappear behind the door. Andrew pushes past the door for the men’s changing room, Neil behind him. Matt and Nicky are hot on their heels and arguing about some television show as Neil makes his way to his locker.

“I’m telling you,” Nicky says. “He’s dead.”

“No way!” Matt argues. “He’s gonna pop up next season. You’ll see.”

“Are you sure we watched the same episode?”

“They can’t just kill off a fan favorite like that!”  

Neil tunes them both out and spins the combination into his locker lock. When he pulls the door open, something falls out and clatters to the floor. There’s a moment where Neil’s heart stutters to a painful halt in his chest, his breath clogging up his throat. Somewhere in the back of his mind, memories he’s long buried try to sink their claws back in. He has to close his eyes for a moment before he can focus again. Neil slowly looks down only to find a plastic knife at his feet. He blinks a few times in confusion before reaching down and picking it up. He turns it over in his hand and sees Justin Mattews scrawled in sharpie across the handle. As far as threats go, this one definitely makes the least amount of sense. Neil gives his brain another minute to come up with a possible explanation, but when it comes up blank, he holds the plastic knife out towards Andrew in a silent question.

“Neil! What’re you doing? You’re not supposed to tell anyone who you have!” Nicky exclaims from across the row of lockers.

“Murder season is finally upon us,” Matt says. “Let the chaos begin and may the best person win.”

Neil turns to find that both Nicky and Matt also have a plastic knives in their hands. He glances down at the one nestled in his own palm again, feeling even more confused.

“Um… murder season?” Neil ask.

“It’s this game where—”

“Let’s go, maggots!” Wymack’s voice cuts Matt off from outside the changing room. “If you’re not on my court in five, I’ll drag your asses onto it.”

“We’ll explain it later,” Matt assures before turning back to his locker to get his gear out.

Neil can still feel endless questions swirling around his head and gnawing their way to the forefront of his mind, but he figures they will just have to wait. He shoves the plastic knife into his jeans pocket and turns back to his own locker.

Unfortunately, later ends up being much later. With spring championships right around the corner, Wymack and Dan work the Foxes hard between drills and scrimmages, leaving little time in between for chatting. And once practice ends, Neil needs to be fast out of the locker room for once, so he can head back to campus and catch the tail end of his professor’s office hours.

Practice had helped supress the lingering confusion over the plastic knife and apparent “murder season”, Neil’s mind focused on drills and footwork and helping Dan get the new freshman ready for championships. Once on campus, though, those thoughts are back in a flash. It’s like between morning classes and now, the entire campus has done a 180. He watches a group of girls pass him, arms linked and huddled together like some sort of pack. Across the Green, there’s two guys he recognises as members of the basketball team walking around in nothing but towels wrapped around their waists. Neil’s almost made it to the languages building when there’s a war-cry from his right. He looks over just in time to see a girl jump down from a tree at an unsuspecting student, a plastic knife brandished in her hand. No one else around Neil seems concerned—some students even cheer at the spectacle— so Neil just shakes his head and pushes inside the building.

By the time Neil makes it back to Fox Tower, it’s well into the evening. He takes the elevator up to the third floor only to walk straight into a sheet hanging from the ceiling. He splutters around the fabric and pushes it aside only to be greeted by a dark hallway. After a few blinks, Neil’s eyes adjust, but he still uses the wall to help guide him to his room.

Inside him room, most of the Foxes are scattered about and waiting, Neil remembering belatedly that it’s their turn to host movie night. Renee and Allison have claimed the armchair to curl up in, their legs layered over one another and shoulders pressed together. Kevin is sitting on one edge of the couch and Andrew the other. Matt has taken up space on the floor with his back against the couch, but Dan isn’t beside him. Instead, the team’s captain is perched on Neil’s desk by the window, her eyes occasionally narrowing and sweeping across the room. Before Neil can ask, the door reopens behind him and Nicky and Aaron come striding in. Much like the basketball players on campus, Nicky is wearing only a towel.

Neil doesn’t even know where to begin.

“So this murder season is…?”

“Murder is a game that happens every year on campus,” Dan explains. “Everyone gets a plastic knife with someone’s name written on it. You have to ‘kill’ the person.”

“Basically just poke them and say ‘you’re dead’,” Matt chimes in.

“Once you’re dead, you have to hand over your own knife to your killer. Eventually, one person is left standing alive with all the knives. They win.”

“What exactly do they win?” Neil asks.

“A bottle of top shelf vodka and infinite bragging rights,” Nicky says.

“There are rules, though,” Renee says. “You can’t ‘kill’ someone in their own room or in the dining hall. You also can’t ‘kill’ them when they’re naked.”

“Which is why some people cheat and walk around in a towel so they can drop it at any time and be immune,” Allison adds with an eye roll.

“It’s not cheating. It’s called using my resources,” Nicky argues.

“Whatever you want to call it, it didn’t work. You’re dead.”

Everyone turns to see Aaron pressing a plastic knife into Nicky’s arm, his cousin’s face a mix of shock and appalment.

“Ha! Serves you right!” Allison calls. She quiets down when Renee places a placating hand on her arm, but her expression is still smug.

“Et tu, Brute?” Nicky says, pushing the knife away from his skin.

“Just hand over your knife,” Aaron says.

“So people take this pretty seriously?” Neil asks, turning back to the upperclassman.

“Oh, yeah,” Matt says. “It gets intense. I’m sure you noticed how the soccer team unscrewed all the lightbulbs in the hall.”

“That��s for this murder game?”

“It’s hard to ‘kill’ someone if you can’t see them,” Renee points out.

“It’s part of their strategy,” Matt continues. “Everyone has a different one. Dan is a firm believer in the lone wolf one.”

“Trust no one, kid,” Dan chimes in.

“Or you could be like Renee and Allison who team up every year. Tell each other who’s on their knives and help one another. They actually almost won last year.”

“Stupid fucking Riley,” Allison mutters.

“You have to admit, her plan was quite clever,” Renee says.

“What did she do?” Neil asks.

“Bought off Rocky Foxy,” Nicky, who is apparently done sulking, answers. “Dressed up as the mascot herself and then got both of them after a game.”

“It was actually kind of beautiful,” Matt says, his tone going a bit wistful.

“And it’s why you can trust no one,” Dan adds, giving another suspicious sweep of the room as if emphasizing her point.

“Right…”

Neil decides to retreat to the kitchen after that. He hears the movie start up, and starts rooting around in the fridge for something quick to whip up. He’s just pulling out cheese and butter when Matt comes in, tugging a slightly reluctant Dan behind him.

“Listen,” Matt says, pitching his voice low. “I need both your help.”

“With what?” Neil asks, pulling out a skillet and grabbing the bread.

Matt casts a look over his shoulder before he pulls Dan even closer, crowding Neil in against the stove.

“I got Andrew,” Matt whispers.

Neil is confused until he glances down. There in Matt’s palm is a plastic knife with a now familiar sharpie scrawl, only the name is different. When Neil looks up again, Dan has her lips pressed together and her eyes are wide with pity. She reaches out and gives Matt a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“There’s always next year, babe.”

“No! I refuse to lose. I just need a good plan. That’s why I need you both.”

Dan’s face is a perfect mask of scepticism, one eyebrow raised and mouth pinched at the corner. Matt lets out a sigh at her reaction before turning his pleading eyes on Neil, but the striker merely shrugs and goes about preparing his dinner.

“Aw come on! You’ll help me, Neil. Won’t you? Maybe you could like be the bait or something. Bros before hoes, right?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Why did I think you would get that reference?”

Another sigh falls past Matt’s lips and then silence blankets the kitchen. Neil uses the opportunity to finish making his grilled cheese. By the time he’s grabbed a plate and a glass of water, Matt’s face is still scrunched up in thought and Dan has retreated back to the others. Occasionally, Matt’s eyebrows shoot up and his mouth opens before he shakes his head and goes back to the same expression. Neil gives him a few more minutes to see if the backliner will say anything else before returning to the living room with his food. He’s halfway done before Matt finally returns.

Once Neil is finished, he takes his dishes back to the kitchen, but when he returns, Andrew has abandoned his spot on the couch. Neil takes one glance at the film playing on the television before heading for the door. He feels like he should be more surprised than he is when Matt follows him out. And more surprised still when he pushes open the door to the stairwell open, only to find a member of the soccer team crouched just inside with a plastic knife clutched to his chest. Instead, Neil takes it all in stride and takes the stairs up to the roof. Andrew is in his usual spot perched along the edge, the only light coming from the end of the cigarette balanced between his lips. Neil only casts one last glance behind him at Matt before he heads over to take up his usual spot, accepting the cigarette Andrew holds out to him.

“You even think about it, Boyd, and I’ll push you over the edge,” Andrew says once Neil is seated.

“Right. Yeah. Leaving,” Matt mutters, before the slamming of the roof doors signals his exit.

“You know he has—” Neil starts.

“I know.”

They fall quiet then. The only sound the low hum of students still on campus and the cars from the interstate wafting on the breeze. The smoke from their cigarettes swirls around them, and Andrew is warm and solid at Neil’s shoulder. After a few more minutes, he finds himself pulling the plastic knife from his pocket and thumbing over the name there.

“Planning on participating?” Andrew asks.

“I haven’t decided yet. I think I’d do quite well. This kind of skill set is right up my alley.”

“Survived enough real murder to take on fake murder?”

“Exactly.” Neil turns his cigarette over between his fingers. “I’d split the prize vodka with you.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything, just takes another drag of his cigarette. Neil is content to sit in comfortable silence, so he turns his attention back towards the campus and the twinkling of the street lamps there.

The Foxes were right in that the rest of week descends into chaos as the Murder game takes over PSU. Some students have taken to running across campus at full sprints to avoid being ‘murdered’ while other creep along the halls sideways with their back pressed along the walls so that no one can sneak up on them. Neil isn’t sure why his teachers even bother teaching with the numbers of disruptions during class. One student even ninja rolls into his math class to take out someone. The only place that seems relatively sane is the dining hall, and even there, students huddle anxiously by the doors, afraid to leave the safety of immunity.

And yet there’s something almost calming buried underneath the insanity. Like some sort of normalcy where murder really is only a game. So Neil decides to join in. And he decides to play to win.

Neil uses the break between his morning classes and afternoon practice on Tuesday to track down Justin Mattews, and he’s able to get him right as he’s leaving the fine arts building. His next mark, Rachel Watters, is easier to find, and Neil is able to ‘kill’ her in the café by the library.

On Wednesday, Dan takes out Kevin during morning workouts. She ignores her lone wolf strategy long enough to jump into Matt’s arms in victory and to high five the whole team. Neil has to use his hand to stifle his smile at Kevin’s glower. The rest of the day is filled with more chaos, and by the end, Neil has taken out two basketball players, a Vixen, and a student in his writing class.

Neil takes immense joy when he gets to corner Aaron on Thursday and ‘kill’ him. But at the end of that day’s afternoon practice, Allison and Renee take out Matt and Dan respectively before striding out of the locker room hand in hand.

On Friday, Neil takes out another Vixen after their win at home, and by the time Saturday rolls around, he has a comfortable pile of plastic knives on the dresser in his room.

Neil shakes away the excess ash from his cigarette before he twirls it between his fingers. He and Andrew are once again up on the roof. This night is the coldest it’s been all week, so Neil presses in closer than usual, hoping to leech off some of the goalkeeper’s heat.

“I finally got the knife with Allison’s name on it,” Neil says. “I think it’s getting down to the last few people. I might actually win.”

Andrew hums noncommittedly and takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I’d still share the vodka with you.”

“Or I could just have it all to myself.”

Neil opens his mouth, about to ask what Andrew means, when he feels the press of something against his hand. He looks down to see a plastic knife pressing into his skin. It takes a moment and a couple of shocked blinks before Neil drags his gaze back up. Andrew is gazing right back at him.

“You’re dead.”

“Does this mean you finally fulfilled the percentage of time you want to kill me?” Neil asks, trying to swallow down the teasing lilt that tries to bleed into his tone and hold back the smile tugging at his lips.

“Now you’re at 218%.”

[ravenvsfox]

You're my fav fic writer here

(i lov u thank you sm, also this prompt is fucked up I had FUN)

Neil’s face is so sunken with grief that he’s barely recognizable. Andrew watches cooly as Nicky jokes with him, the energy of the team cascading down and off of Neil, water off an indifferent umbrella. This is not the same man who was buoyant with a fresh win half an hour ago, who holds exy in higher regard than his own life, some days.

Andrew crosses to him, siphoning Neil’s attention away from the action of the room to him, just him, their eyes hooked together.

“Thank you,” Neil says, his mouth trembling. “You were amazing.”

Andrew searches his face, waiting for more. The room around them feels hazily separate, his attention is pulled to every flicker of Neil’s eyes, every shape his mouth makes. Something is giving out like a rotting support beam, Andrew can feel the collapse as if it were happening in his own body.

He catches Wymack gesturing from the corner of his eye, and the foxes fall into line. Neil keeps holding Andrew’s gaze the way someone might watch their home disappear on the horizon as they drive away.

He turns on command, though, body held too casually to be genuinely at ease, walking in tandem with the men bracketing him.

Andrew levels Wymack with a dismissive look and turns on his heel to follow Neil to the parking lot, his heartbeat out-pacing his footsteps.

He watches the bobbing heads of the man in the reflective vest and his colleague guiding the team through a simmering crowd. A bottle careens past Aaron’s head and Andrew looks blackly out in the direction it was thrown from. His eyes return to Neil, and because he’s watching, he sees the moment the crowd swells and Neil is grabbed hard by the wrist.

Andrew starts running immediately, pushing his way through a crowd that feels more like the tumultuous surface of an angry ocean. He trips over a slippery bottle and clips a 6 foot tall Bearcats fan, who tries to punch Andrew and gets his hand ripped at the seam of his fingers for his trouble. The crowd is a firing squad pointed at him, but Andrew braves it without hesitation.

He loses sight of the shiny vest and Neil’s flaming hair, almost tripping again on a duffel bag upended in the street. He kicks viciously at it before realizing it’s Neil’s, his racquet dropped two feet away. It’s like a crime scene, like the gunpowder left in the wake of a ripping bullet.

Andrew scoops the racquet up and breaks into a flat-out sprint with it held in front of him, using its length to rake the crowd out of the way. They break, more interested in self-preservation than the spirit of revenge. Andrew gets a clear view of Neil’s shoulder being wrenched around, his face contorting with anger as he’s stuffed into the back of a highway patrol car.

“Stop,” Andrew calls, voice raised. He skids into the parking lot just as the door is closing on Neil, and four sets of eyes swing towards Andrew. He sees Neil mouth ‘no’ as a woman with an unhinged grin cranes around Neil, sizing Andrew up.

“Who’s this, Junior?”

Andrew’s head ruffles memories like cards, and he picks out the blood on the changing room mirror. Happy 19th Birthday Jr. He’d suspected it wasn’t Riko’s style.

“No one,” Neil says. “A teammate.” He gives Andrew a vaguely dismissive look, a more complete lie than Andrew’s seen from him in a long time. Figures that do-or-die situations are the only ones Neil applies logic to.

“A teammate,” the woman mimics. “You tell him?”

“Am I an idiot? Of course not,” Neil says, and jerks his head to the side, telling Andrew quietly to run. The men from earlier are piling out of the car again, clearly on some invisible cue from the woman in charge. “He doesn’t know anything,” Neil says more firmly.

“I know that you’re not taking him,” Andrew says. The woman laughs.

“Sorry to say that you don’t get to decide much of anything, no one,” she mocks. “He is our problem, and it’s about time we solved it.”

Andrew steps forward. “He’s not your problem anymore. He’s mine.”

Her gaze flickers down and up his body, and one of the men closes in. It’s a quick fight. Andrew takes the guy down by the legs and then pins him by the throat with one booted foot. He wheels around for the next threat, and then Neil calls his name frantically.

He looks up at him for one suspended moment; Neil’s eyes swallowed by terror, something whistling close to his ear, and then he’s jolted forward impossibly hard by a blow to the head, and everything blinks out.

____

He rouses to the smell of something burning, and he becomes aware, piece by piece, of how completely fucked they are.

There’s a cool leather chair-back pressed to his face and he can feel the clink of handcuffs elaborately pinning his wrists behind him, no slack to spare. He can move his head just enough to take stock of the car, what looks like an old cadillac interior, and that same woman in the seat across from him, carving pieces out of Neil’s arms.

Andrew jerks hard against the restraints and the woman turns, the knife slipping jaggedly in Neil’s blood-sloppy wrist. He catches a sweat-beaded expression of utter enjoyment on her face.

“We’ve got a live one,” she laughs to the driver. “Well. For now. How are you doing, Andrew?”

He knows the name drop is supposed to unnerve him but he’s busy straining full-body to get to Neil, kicking with bound feet. He takes furious inventory of Neil’s injuries. He hasn’t even noticed Andrew, he’s so wracked with agony, his body convulsing and ruining his wrists in the cuffs.  

“Oh Andrew,” the woman’s voice singsongs, and her hand strokes his face.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarls. She looks delighted as she slaps him hard across the face.

“Feisty. We did a little research on you, AJ,” she coos, and he spits in her face. He hasn’t felt so out of control in years — his body is a thin skin over pure fire. She calmly wipes her face, tapping her knife on Neil’s hands as she tsk’s reprovingly.

“That’s pretty disrespectful,” she says, and accepts a dashboard lighter from the driver. “We kept you alive and everything.” Andrew ignores her, looking beyond her at Neil’s opening eyes, his clenched teeth. He’s more alert than most would be after the injuries he’s sustained. Andrew gets the full picture of Neil’s destroyed face, the blood and tears in his eyes and dripping down his chin. He can’t look away. He can’t.

“I’m Lola,” the woman introduces, clicking the lighter and digging her fingernails into Neil’s arm. “It seems only polite to let you in on the name of the woman who’s going to chop your boyfriend into little pieces.” She considers Neil weeping blood on the upholstery. “Well. Littler.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Andrew informs her. He holds Neil’s gaze and feels something huge and too late pass between them. The car is blazing red, it’s all he can see.

“Oh,” Lola says, interested, a little faux apologetic. “Let’s be adults, shall we? You’re going to be dead within the hour.”

She digs the lighter down into Neil’s forearm and Andrew struggles brutally again. It’s useless. It’s utterly useless, but he would die before he stopped trying.

“Neil,” he says, low and urgent. “Focus.”

“‘Neil’,” Lola laughs, reaching around the head rest to squish Neil’s burned cheeks. “Cute nickname, junior. Does he moan it when you’re fucking?”

“You already let me go,” Neil sobs, and Andrew becomes distantly aware that he’s talking to him. “You’re done. I’m nothing to you.” Neil’s so stupid, even now.

Andrew tests the handcuffs. He wishes he’d never woken up. He wishes he’d been faster back at the court. He wishes Neil could’ve been killed before Andrew had the opportunity to chain himself to him: the mast of a ship going down. His breath comes out like it’s going through a shredder.

They pull up to a rickety looking hotel moments later, and Neil’s head hangs, hair soaked through with sweat, hands twitching in handcuffs, blood masking the worst of his injuries. Andrew sinks lower, and panic seizes his lungs, pinching them like dry dish towels.

He knows some of Neil’s past and he knows his own, but it’s been so long since he’s had to see what complete destruction looks like from the outside.

They’re unhooked from the car one by one and ushered past two policemen who are watching them with wide eyes. Andrew doesn’t let them squirm away from their guilt, he pins them with his eyes like bugs under glasses.

“How much do my father’s people pay you to break your oaths?” Neil asks, voice familiar again, idiotic, brave, impossible.

“More than the state does,” one of them says, rubbing his arms against the cool night air. “Don’t take it personally.”

“I have to,” Neil says shakily, looking back at Andrew through a wince. “It’s our lives.”

“Should we kill him now?” the man who had been driving asks, nodding towards Andrew. Lola eyes him, considering. The officers jostle uncomfortably at the thought of directly viewing the products of their crime.

“We’ll let Nathan decide,” she announces after a beat, prodding Andrew’s back hard with the handle of her knife.

He fights against Lola and the driver but his arms are where all of his strength is, and they’re useless behind his back. He’s dumped headfirst into the trunk of a new police cruiser, and thumped in the chest so that he slips backwards, his back to the cabin of the car.

Neil’s pushed in next, his battered body snug to Andrew’s, blood seeping immediately through Andrew’s shirt and painting his fox jacket red. It’s a foolish comfort to have Neil near him, the living heat of his body and the persistent hammer of his heart. Andrew’s face is level with Neil’s neck, and he breathes into his collar, the only way he can touch him without his hands.

Impossibly, Lola climbs in after them both, pressing in close to Neil and sending shockwaves of utter hatred through Andrew.

“Cozy,” she says. “Good thing you’re both child-sized.” Andrew watches her nestle a gun at Neil’s side, a warning for both of them. She slings a leg over Neil’s and nuzzles in close. “Cute, too. Just like your father.” Her eyes are bright in the dark. “Andrew’s got a pretty face, too, don’t you think?”

“Get his name out of your mouth,” Neil grits. Andrew can feel the effort it takes not to try anything more, the tension in his shoulders. He feels it too.

“Don’t worry,” she purrs. “We’re almost at the end of the line.”

The car jostles as it gets moving again, and Andrew seethes at the thought of Lola rocking into Neil with the motion. He didn’t expect anything better from the police force, but the muffled sound of their voices so close to this is revolting.

The sirens kick up to full force after a few minutes, and Lola shushes the sound Neil makes with a nip at his burns. “Seems there’s been an incident at your father’s house. Perhaps some vandalism from lowlifes unwilling to have him back in their neighbourhood, fools who buy into the conspiracy theory that he killed his beloved wife and child.”

“People you paid to create a disturbance tonight,” Neil says resignedly, “so police could stop by unquestioned.”

“Ten points to Junior. He’s smart when he applies himself,” she whispers conspiratorially to Andrew. He ignores her. Neil’s rapid untangling of events, the rebellion in the face of certain death, the twitch in his legs to run, even now. This must have been his whole life, Andrew realizes. His whole time on the run fearing exactly this.

And you couldn’t keep him from it, something in him whispers. You’re both dead because you slipped on a beer bottle. Because you couldn’t part the crowd fast enough. Because you got distracted in a fight like Renee told you never to do.

It’s a bumpy ride, voices crescendoing outside the window but sirens petering out. Lola reaches over them both for something, and Neil’s bound hands clutch at Andrew’s jacket behind him, even though it must hurt.

“I’ll do your friend first,” Lola whispers to Neil, and Andrew smells the unmistakable tang of chloroform in the close, sweaty space. “I have a feeling he’ll make trouble.”

Andrew jerks back when she tries to close fabric over his face, bucking so that her hand slips in the dark. Neil whimpers in pain at being jostled and Andrew has no choice but to stop moving, to present his face to her and take it. 

Even in this war zone, even watching Neil’s lies vomited up in the most violent way possible, submitting to Lola is one of the worst things he’s done today. He feels the drugs take him, resenting the horrible slither of them, the heaviness in his legs and arms. He hears Neil inhale, and then there’s nothing at all.

____

He wakes up on contact with unforgiving stone, the room spinning back and forth every time he moves his head. He closes his eyes against it, then opens them, searching for a splash of red in the monotonous grey. His eyes settle on Neil being manhandled down some sort of passageway, his body limp.

Andrew clings to consciousness, thinking idly of his tolerance for medication, his susceptibility to easy waking. He fluctuates between relief and impatience at Neil’s closed eyes. He doesn’t know where they are or what’s coming, and Neil’s the only one who can navigate their way out.

“Not much of a tolerance, hmm?” Lola remarks, toeing Neil’s slack face with her shoe. She looks back at Andrew and cocks her head, reaching one hand out expectantly to her side. He doesn’t know why until she accepts a heavy looking shovel and smashes it into his face.

____

He wades to consciousness for the third time in three hours, head screaming. Neil’s at the sink in the corner now, cradling his own hands, and Lola idly twirls her gun in his direction.

Neil meets Andrew’s eyes immediately when he turns around. He shakes his head so slightly that no one else would’ve caught it. Andrew knows in his gut that he has to feign unconsciousness, that there are two of them and one of Lola and they’re not even cuffed. His armbands are still on, a terrible oversight on Lola’s part. His knives are warm at his inner arm.

He doesn’t know his way out, but Neil must. Andrew’s fresh, strong, able, despite the ringing in his head, and Neil’s mind is a vault for whatever secrets landed him here.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Neil asks, doubtless for Andrew’s benefit.

Lola replies, transparently threatening, amused. She mentions ‘his’ style of killing and Andrew flips idly through the possibilities. Not Moriyamas, surely. Someone associated with Neil’s family, someone with connections. His head clangs like alarm bells, fake sleep slip-slides into real sleep and back again.

He tries to catch Neil’s hyper-alert gaze but each time he does he gets a head-shake for his trouble. Something upstairs is holding Neil down like a sword through his chest.

Time passes strangely, darkly. The room is quiet save for the muffle of voices above and the click of the gun as Lola flicks the safety on and off.

Maybe forty-five minutes have passed when everything abruptly shifts. Andrew slits his eyes and watches Neil’s face go dead cold as someone comes down the stairs, bare feet first, and then cuffed dark jeans, a neat shirt, a scowling face.

It’s so unquestionably Neil’s father that Andrew has to fight to keep his breathing even. He turns Neil’s story in Wymack’s apartment over in his head. It’s something that’s always been sour, lies that Andrew had fought hard to believe.

He feels white hot rage at everyone in the room, people he should’ve known to protect Neil from, people hidden by Neil’s own foolish self-preservation.

Someone else hulking follows Neil’s father — Nathan, Andrew remembers — down the stairs, and Andrew and Neil’s window to escape closes cleanly.

“On your feet,” Nathan says. “You know better than to sit in my presence.”

Andrew watches, sick, as Neil stands immediately, organizing his wrecked limbs like the injuries aren’t there. Andrew knows what it’s like to be so scared of being destroyed that you’ll do anything. He knows the feeling of choosing the pain you have over the threat of more. Lola laughs in the background.

“Hello, Junior,” Nathan says. His eyes slide beyond Neil, to Andrew’s slumped form. “Who’s this?”

“Collateral,” Lola says. “Shall we kill him?”

Nathan’s eyes narrow, so like Neil’s but so utterly unwanted. “You know he’s faking sleep, of course,” he says, and stalks closer. He lifts his foot up to stomp on Andrew’s face and Andrew catches it, twists. Nathan staggers but maintains his balance, and his smile is that of a starving lion.

“Oh you are dead.”

Andrew rolls onto his knees, and the big guy in the corner comes forward. Nathan waves him off.

“I don’t think he’ll fight.”

“You don’t know me,” Andrew says blankly. Neil’s eyes are huge, darting back and forth between Andrew and Nathan like he can’t believe what’s in front of him.

“I’ve got him,” Lola says, brandishing the gun and closing one eye, tongue out, a caricature of concentration. She shoots Andrew in the thigh.

He doesn’t make a sound, but his body crumples. His whole leg is lava; he’s shocked to find it in one piece when he looks down.

It’s difficult to focus on voices or things beyond the boundaries of his pain. Neil is getting punched somewhere in the room, looking his father in the eye and taking it. They’re discussing disappointments, dead mothers and broken people. The picture gets clearer, slowly, the right prescription settling in just when Andrew doesn’t want to see.

Andrew staunches the bleeding as best he can with his hand but it fountains past his fingers. It’s inconvenient, is the thing. It’s one leg less. He tries to look at Neil but Neil’s eyes are frozen on his father, his jaw down in utter submission. Andrew won’t forget that look on him, even if he sees it replaced by fire and smart comments a hundred times over.

Nathan rhapsodizes about his upcoming torture before he launches into it and Andrew really is bored of the way these people talk. “…you’re not going to run away this time, Nathaniel. I’m not going to let you.”

“Fuck you,” Neil says, back to himself as soon as Andrew could think to miss him. Neil glances at him, eyes dribbling down to his leg. His face is a wash of every bad emotion, like a slur of murky watercolour. “He’s going to bleed out,” Neil says. Nathan’s busy collecting his weapons, and he looks back at Andrew, unimpressed.

“He’s going to watch, first.” Nathan strolls up to Andrew and squats at his side, neatly avoiding the growing pool of blood. “What is my son to you?”

“An annoyance,” Andrew says, and thrusts a knife up into Nathan’s chest. His aim is off, but it’s enough to throw him backwards, and he slips in Andrew’s blood, toppling back to the floor hard.

Andrew looks up and finds Neil in the commotion that follows, both hands over his mouth.

A lot happens at once, then. Lola lunges for Nathan, clearly not quite sure whether she should do something for him without being asked.

The big man looms threateningly towards Andrew but Neil dives for the cleaver Nathan dropped and tosses it with deadly accuracy into the centre of the man’s chest.

Nathan struggles upright and grabs for his blunt axe, blood still gushing down his front, eyes wild. “Don’t let them leave.”

Neil holds the cleaver in front of him, a dangerous cornered animal with the skill to back his desperation up. Lola’s gun still outmatches him, in a distance fight.

Or would, if Andrew hadn’t grabbed the back of her knees and forced her down. “For a professional, you leave a lot of loose ends,” he says, and he scoops up the gun to give her a matching bullet hole in her leg. She howls, Nathan curses, Neil steps closer, shaking with relief.

“You’ve lost,” he says, and stares down his father, looking like a resurrected corpse, bloody and vengeful.

The ceiling opens to gunfire and shouts, and Andrew plasters himself to the floor. Neil drops beside him, hands over his head, and Nathan takes advantage of his weakness, hefting his axe up and aiming it at the back of Neil’s neck.

A bullet catches his hand, and the weapon clatters uselessly to the floor beside Neil’s head. People pack into the cellar, grim faces behind various weapons.

“Bloody hell. Nathaniel?” someone says, and Andrew glances up into an unfamiliar middle-aged face. He registers Neil nodding, Nathan cowering on the floor like an animal, the stranger moving close and smoothly cocking his gun at Andrew.

“No,” Neil says quickly, “he’s with me.”

Andrew has the strangest feeling of emotion leeching from him again, losing hours of saturated panic along with his blood.

The man says something to Neil that ends with: “don’t look. This will be over in a moment.” He turns on Nathan.

Andrew shoots Nathan before the stranger has the chance to, a bullet through his forehead, one good shot. He falls like a spent balloon, pathetic and wheezing.

There’s a stunned silence, and then Neil starts laughing behind his hands, wild, unfunny laughter.

“Stop that,” Andrew says, unnerved to his bones. Neil looks at Andrew and seems to sober immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. The man speaks to Neil in hushed, frantic tones, and Andrew can pick out stray words. FBI. Moriyamas. Butcher.

They’re smuggled up a narrow passageway by rough guiding hands. Andrew limps heavily on his right leg and Neil favours different sides of his body from step to step. He is a balance in every injury, a symmetrical ruin.

They burst out into the night and there are police, again, hoisting them to their feet and pointing guns in their faces.

“You’re too late,” Neil says thickly, “my father is dead.”

Andrew watches the agents trying to get Neil’s attention, snapping in his face, but his eyes are unfocused and wandering. Andrew knows instinctively that he’s reliving his father’s death on loop.

“My name is Nathaniel Wesnisnski,” Neil says, eyes sliding to Andrew’s, chin high. “And my father is dead.”

He smiles, warped, and keels over in the bushes, throwing up violently with strange hands holding him upright. The sight spurs Andrew into motion, suddenly, unhindered by barrels of guns and clever cutting hands. He moves forward on one leg and slaps the agents’ hands away, grabbing Neil by the shoulders.

“Neil.”

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t seem to recognize the name.

“We won,” Andrew says, wiping blood from Neil’s eyelashes, holding him upright by his uninjured waist.

“We won,” Neil repeats, and his legs give out. Andrew goes down with him, not strong enough on one leg and 60% blood volume to take the full weight of Neil’s body.

They end up knotted together on the Wesninski lawn, both of them fading from blood loss but unflinchingly alive.