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popcorn-kitten · 4 years ago

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new hiveswap info and development timelines just dropped on the Kickstarter ✌️

Over the years, a lot of misinformation, as well as deliberate disinformation, has spread around about the history of Hiveswap. The purpose of this post is to clarify these matters for backers who've been wondering what the truth is.

The Kickstarter was planned by the What Pumpkin business development team in mid-2012. One member of the team was a crowdfunding specialist who led the planning process and managed the contracts with the developer. Prior to the Kickstarter opening for pledges, What Pumpkin worked out a plan for a flexible game concept that could be refined according to how much the campaign ultimately brought in. As Hussie was still working on Homestuck full time at this point, the plan was to hand over his game concept and story outline to a development company that could deliver the project.

The crowdfunding campaign finished out at a gross total of $2,485,506, as well as a gross total of $207,930 from PayPal pledges. But because of platform fees, as well as the costs of producing and shipping merchandise to backers of the campaign, the effective budget was significantly lower than the gross pledged total:

The above deductions from the gross total do not include taxes.

After determining the final budget for the game, What Pumpkin signed an agreement with the contracted game company (hereafter “GC”) to develop Hussie’s game concept. WP and GC entered into a development contract on November 30, 2012, shortly after the conclusion of the Homestuck Kickstarter. WP paid $788,000 to GC in late 2012 for development.

Because there was an understanding that delivering the complete game development documents would take some time, during which it would be difficult for GC to make meaningful progress on the Hiveswap game build, GC inquired about getting involved with other Homestuck-adjacent projects to do immediate work. WP let GC know about the Act 7 animation plans. With an assurance that this work could be done in parallel with a flexible timeline and would not impact the development cycle of Hiveswap itself, Hussie and What Pumpkin saw this as a good opportunity to establish a working relationship with this organization prior to the start of development and agreed to contract GC to do animation work for the Act 7 project. WP and GC agreed that this project would have a separate budget from the Hiveswap Kickstarter money, paid for from WP’s regular operating funds. As the existence of this animation itself would not be revealed until its release in 2016, this was not publicly announced at the time. GC and the lead animator on the project specifically requested not to be credited upon release of the animation.

Hussie initiated the “Megapause” on April 14, 2013 in order to devote his full attention to finalizing the Hiveswap development documents. What Pumpkin soon provided its story documents so that GC could formally begin core systems development. In July of 2013 WP and GC mutually agreed to push back GC’s deliverable dates without penalty. Hussie would share an update in 2013 detailing the state of predevelopment:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/14293468/homestuck-adventure-game/posts/708686

In 2013 following receipt of WP’s deliverables, GC enthusiastically assured WP that it was positioned to begin development. GC would deliver its first prototype in early 2014.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qSXwWKD5Km1yL-3Cj_W5IevW-IA978zJ/view?usp=sharing

This prototype, linked above, was sent to WP on 2/18/14. At this point, it was becoming a significant concern among backers that WP had yet to show proof that the game was being made, so WP was looking for any sort of tangible progress update from GC that was suitable to share with the public. But Hussie and WP found the quality of the prototype somewhat alarming, and decided that sharing any shots from the game would only cause embarrassment for GC. Nevertheless, WP was still willing to assume that this was a very early draft of something that would develop into a more promising product soon, and gave GC some more time to improve on it.

But the improvements didn’t come. No other advancements on the prototype were ever made. After waiting weeks with no update other than assurances that progress was carrying on smoothly, Hussie initiated the “Gigapause” both to take care of personal matters and later to get directly involved in the development of the game himself. He decided to move to southern California from the east coast in hopes that working directly with the GC could help them overcome whatever obstacles they were facing with Hiveswap’s development. GC responded positively to the prospect of Hussie’s involvement, but when he made the move and tried to coordinate a time to visit the GC offices and meet, GC insisted it was a bad time due to office renovations and a busy schedule. Here is a timeline with quotes from emails exchanged between Hussie and GC:

May 12, 2014 - from Hussie to GC

“Just letting you know I actually moved to the west coast recently. I'm only an hour or so away from LA now.

I could drive down and check out the office, see how things are going with the game and animation in person some time soon. Is there a time that would work for you guys? In a week or two maybe?”

May 15, 2014 - from GC to Hussie

“That's awesome about being on the west coast. It'd be great to have you come to the studio.

Dev has slowed a bit on our end, as we wanted to take a step back and really evaluate what was needed and the best way to achieve the features that have been coming online in the docs. We're continuing to break that all down so we can build and plan most effectively moving forward. We also wanted to find some simple formats for input from your writing team for dialogue content and are getting that squared away.

The best time to come by would actually be right after E3. Things are a bit nuts until then.”

May 18, 2014 - from Hussie to GC

“[Name redacted], sounds good. I'll set aside some time after E3 to make the drive down. As we approach the date, just let me know what works for you.”

E3 was June 10-12, 2014. GC did not invite Hussie to visit at this time.

Hussie and WP representatives were in LA over July 4th weekend, 2014. When they inquired about visiting the offices again they were still not welcome. A GC representative insisted that they meet at a restaurant instead. Yet GC continued to telegraph that they were receptive to the idea of inviting Hussie to the office well into the summer:

Aug 18, 2014 - from GC to Hussie

“We'd love to set up a new time for Andrew to come to the studio as well as a skype chat to meet the other team members.”

Despite apparent enthusiasm about meeting with Andrew in their email correspondence, GC continued the pattern of refusing to meet at the office or supply any signs of progress on the prototype.

Over that summer, GC delivered several pieces of concept art that WP had been requesting since January. Hussie did his best to present this publicly as a positive development as WP felt it would be counterproductive to the project and harmful to GC to publicly detail the development troubles at the time.

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/14293468/homestuck-adventure-game/posts/883860

There was no indication from GC that the Act 7 animation project was in any way in conflict with Hiveswap development. GC was enthusiastic about taking on this project, and bidded against other animators for the contract. They saw it as a useful tie-in to concept art work on Hiveswap, as GC leadership conveyed in an email to WP in early 2013:

WP also does not have any reason to believe that the Act 7 project in practice created a conflict that was not disclosed by GC to WP. Act 7 was a 2D animation project, and Hiveswap at the time was a 3D game, so it did not pull GC’s programmers or 3D artists away from work on Hiveswap. GC never mentioned the development needs of a separate project at all to WP, or cited any such reason as distracting from work on Hiveswap; GC instead repeatedly provided WP with various assurances that everything was still fine with Hiveswap.

Had GC communicated that they had scheduling conflicts or some other impediment preventing them from developing Hiveswap, WP would have terminated the contract even sooner.

WP moved to terminate the agreement with GC late summer of 2014, and Hussie pivoted towards establishing a new independent game studio while consulting with a designer who had stepped up into a leadership position during the GC development period. That individual lived in NYC, which is why that location was chosen to establish the new studio rapidly. They helped build the studio through a local network of professional contacts. While this “What Pumpkin NYC” studio shared a name with What Pumpkin, it’s important to note that all of WP NYC’s studio staff save for the aforementioned individual were hired without any prior affiliation with WP and thus had no association with the GC contract. WP documented this development on Kickstarter on October 30th, 2014. https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/14293468/homestuck-adventure-game/posts/1035099

At this point, negotiations were very amicable; both parties agreed the project simply wasn’t turning out to be a good fit for GC, and were both ready to move on. There were no signs given at all that WP was about to have trouble recovering the remaining funds.

WP is legally permitted to discuss details of the resolution of the dispute only under very specific circumstances. WP may make additional disclosures outside of this post to individual backers in accordance with legal obligations.

Following resolution of the GC contract, in Spring 2015 the WP NYC studio was running at full capacity on Hiveswap. The main problem was the fact that WP management was blindsided by the revelation that much less money would be coming back than expected. The WP NYC project manager had designed the schedule based on the good faith presumption that most of the development funds would be recouped. When it was finally revealed the return was far short of what was expected, and the repayment plan could in no way keep up with the schedule as currently drafted, it threw the project into a period of chaos as plans were quickly redrawn. The length of Act 1 was slashed, and other modifications were made to try to fit the rest of Act 1 into the newly shortened runway. But in the end, the revisions still weren't enough to save the game as it existed, and the studio needed to be closed in order to reserve what funds remained to finish the project in some form.

This may have come across as a sudden or spontaneous decision. Part of this is because the WP NYC senior staff and WP ownership were doing everything in their power to save the project, including injecting WP regular operating funds into the project, until it was determined that going any further would be disastrous for the future of Hiveswap. Another is that WP was legally unable to give any detailed disclosures about the financial troubles, even to many of the WP NYC staff.

It should also be noted that originally the NYC studio was not going to be permanently closed, but only frozen for a reassessment of the project. But during this freeze period, there were some dramatic events. One staff member behaved in a destructive and threatening manner. For the protection of those involved, details shouldn't be disclosed. But these events made navigating the post-freeze issues impossible. Communication between ownership, management and staff broke down because of these events, and the freeze turned into full closure. This version of the project was then abandoned for many reasons, including these events.

Some misinformation claims that at the time the WP NYC studio was shuttered, its iterations of Act 1 and 2 were complete. This is wrong. Act 1 was very far from a shippable state and absolutely no work on Act 2 had been completed besides some concept and 3D art. Here you can see a video documenting one of many major bugs with critical path progression in the final build produced by WP NYC, where it becomes impossible to re-focus on the Simon Says toy if Joey fails and then exits out of the puzzle:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1M2mmkMx8Wkwp1VU_5IpMKDvngmUFS0IG/view?usp=sharing

At the point the WP NYC studio was frozen it was still difficult to finish a full run of the critical path without the debug tool, and the UI was far from complete. With that build, Act 1 ended the moment Joey passed through the portal on Earth. The current version of Act 1, where Joey makes it to Alternia and meets Xefros, is more indicative of the original length of the NYC version of Act 1. Not only did it need to be slashed from what the original script proposed, the NYC version of Act 1 still wasn't that close to resembling a shippable product after those changes were made.

Because of the amount of time and resources already devoted to this project, WP was initially very reluctant to lay anyone off or scrap the work being done. It was for this reason that the studio stayed open for months after the contract with GC was resolved; WP made every effort to deliver a game with that team, but at the time WP NYC was shuttered, the funds just weren't there to keep the studio running at its current burn rate and schedule slips. The game was never going to reach delivery with the funds available. The studio urgently needed to be frozen for a full reassessment, and then it was closed after the freeze due to the reasons stated above. This was the only course of action that could have saved the project.

To WP's knowledge every artist whose work was used in the final release of Act 1 was included in the credits. The final version of Act 1 was in large part built off concept art and storyboards drawn during the WP NYC era, and many of the artists who made them continued to work on the team that produced the final version of Act 1; the roadmap for the completion of Act 1 was specifically planned because WP had determined that the existing 2D concepts could easily be refined into a final product that would both be visually appealing and more economic to produce. Unfortunately due to the transition to 2D WP no longer had a place for the 3D artists or the original 3D engine, and all of those assets were dropped. They were not used as a basis for the finished assets in Act 1, and visual similarities to WP NYC 3D assets are due to the fact that final Act 1 assets are in large part refinements of the original concept art. Any artist whose work was used incidentally was included in Additional Contributions.

Both the GC and NYC phases of Hiveswap were setbacks to the overall fulfillment of the project, but not insurmountable. WP reorganized the budget to establish a new version of the studio, and Act 1 was released two years after the closure of NYC.

As an addendum, WP has identified the primary source of a disclosure to a well-circulated document of the Hiveswap development process. WP has been aware of a pattern of false claims this former employee has made since the end of their employment at the beginning of 2014. As this individual was not present during the end of the development contract with GC, nor the WP NYC development period, all of the information they have shared is based on speculation and conjecture.

At this time, WP does not wish to invite more controversy into the lives of anyone previously involved with this project, and considers these matters to have been resolved long ago. The goal for years has been to turn the page on flawed attempts by earlier studios, and simply move forward and bring Hiveswap to completion without sparking the chaos, disruption, and threats to personal safety that would have resulted from disclosing many of the details stated above. Doing so would only make it more difficult for the staff to rebuild the project during these periods immediately following the termination of the GC agreement and closure of the NYC studio. Since preservation of the project was the primary responsibility to the backers, making destructive disclosures that put the project at risk along the way would have been at odds with that responsibility. This policy also served to protect individuals from personal or professional harm, including those who were responsible for serious setbacks with the project. Please respect the privacy of any persons affiliated with GC and WP NYC.

#homestuck #hiveswap #kickstarter info #nothing was edited or changed from the original

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bxthharmon · 5 years ago

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Never Go Home Again, Pt. VI || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 3527

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: boats in bad weather??

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy. teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: The group make headway with an underwater drone, while Y/N seeks closure from her family.

A/N: time for some insight into y/n’s history!!! also i have to go into school tmrw and i am NOT here for it

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

“Alright, keep a lookout.” JJ reminded you as you pulled up to the hotel,”We’re behind enemy lines.” he pulled out the gun, ignoring how John B argued with him as he loaded it, in full display. “Can never be too careful.” JJ reminded you.

“Hey, I predict bringing a weapon to a four star hotel will likely cause more problems than it solves.”

“Thank you, Pope.” John B sighed.

Kie leaned forward, her head sticking through to the front of the VW, “I swear to God, I’m gonna throw that gun in the ocean, JJ. Put it back.”

You reached through the window and snatched the gun off him, leaning over and handing it to John B, glaring at JJ as you pulled back out of his van window.

“”You can’t grab a gun like that!” he leaned forwards to argue, but at the look of your face when you turned around, he sighed, hopping out of the car, “Can’t forget my badge - professional bus-boy.”

“So where are we going now?” Pope inquired, following JJ to the doors.

“We’re getting the internet because only rich people have electricity right now.” JJ explained, leading you through the crowded, steamy kitchen and trying to grab some bits of food as he did, calling a greeting to a guy named Andrew. “See they got the backup generators going? Kooks don’t miss a beat.” he led you to a door, which opened to a load of computers.

“Sweet Lord, the internet!” Pope ran to the computer, sitting down, “I’ve missed you.”

“Let me get in there,” JJ spoke, “gotta check on my insta models.” you rolled your eyes, walking to the window and watching the ant’s nest of rich people thrive. You heard Pope type in the coordinates, and walked back to see what was going on. After the discovery of it being only 900 feet, and JJ telling you about the drone-camera-thing and his dad’s redundancy, you left again, not wanting to stick around for long.

“Pope, we’re not stealing the drone, we’re… borrowing it.” John B tried to justify.

“‘Humans are the only animal that can’t tell fantasy from reality.’” said Pope vaguely.

“Did you come up with that?” John B asked.

“Albert Bernstein came up with it,” he clarified, “but it applies to this whole treasure-hunting thing. So, which is it? Fantasy, or reality?”

“Why’re you so weird, Pope?” JJ asked, concentrating on rolling his blunt.

“It’s fantasy, but possible reality.” Kie suggested.

“Reality.” John B looked around at the group.

“Virtual reality.” JJ muttered, flicking his lighter on and going to light his blunt. You snatched the spliff off of him.

“The smell’s doing my head in.” you said, ignoring his hurt expression.

“Keep the signal clear.” Pope agreed.

“You know what your problem is?” JJ piped up, glaring at you.

“You?” You quipped, raising your eyebrow as if to say ‘I dare you’.

“No!” he shook his head, holding your gaze, “It’s that you take everything so seriously! And you don’t bother to find out what really happened. You make an assumption without knowing the full story.” he didn’t break eye contact with you. John B stopped the van, and you inhaled, holding your anger in.

“My problem,” you seethed, “Is that there is only one way to take most things. I don’t need to know the full story, because the message came through - loud and clear - regardless.”

“Well maybe,” JJ started, the pair of you ignoring the faces of your fellow pogues as your voices rose, “if you knew the other side to the story, you would know that that’s not how it was meant.”

“Really?” you laughed incredulously, and you could tell he knew he was entering a danger zone, “Because there’s only one way to take it JJ! Please, please, enlighten me on literally any other way I could have taken it!”

“Okay,” John B said, overpowering your argument, and drawing your attention to the shocked and confused faces of your friends, “Y’all need to sort your shit out, in the meantime, JJ, Pope, the gate’s open, let’s go, and Y/N, get ready, getaway driver.”

You moved to the driver’s seat, grumbling about being a getaway driver as you watched the three boys run through the gate, which was crawling shut.

You waited for about ten minutes, bored out of your mind as you held a hardly engaging text conversation with a girl from your old school. Your bored brain’s trance was interrupted by the cutting sound of a dog barking. You looked through the wire gate, seeing that the guard had left the car. You jumped out of the car, slamming the door as you ran to the gate, pulling yourself up and over, jumping down the other side in a well-practiced manner, running towards the barking.

You scaled the rows of boats until you saw the guard, calming the dog down as he shouted to a boat. From your angle, you could see a rucksack. JJ.

“Excuse me?” you yelled, and the guard turned his attention to you as you walked towards him. “Uh, sorry, Officer, you left the gate open.” you lied, racking your brain for a lie to distract the man. “There was a girl with a flat tire.” Please, Kie, be there.

“I know.” he responded gruffly, and you nodded.

“Well, Sir, she’s like, panicking ‘cause you ran off, and she has to get to the ferry. You should probably help her out.”

He looked you up and down suspiciously as you played with your hair, battering your eyelashes lightly. He sighed, walking away, the dog in tow. You waited until he was out of sight, and earshot, to call out to JJ. His head appeared over the side of the boat, and then he stood and jogged down the steps to face you. You barely spared him a glance, heading towards the impound yard at the back.

“C’mon, shithead.” you murmured, hearing his footsteps follow you, catching up and joining your stride.

“Y/N,” he attempted, trying to catch your attention as you stared straight on.

“JJ,” you mocked, “I don’t want to talk about it. It should never have happened, and I’m sorry it did. Can we move on?”

You didn’t wait for a reply as you stormed off, towards the others, leaving his heart breaking in the dust.

“Kie,” you sighed, collecting glasses from one of the tables, “I told you, okay? He pushed me away. I mean, message received, loud and clear.”

“But you were drunk, maybe he just didn’t want to take advantage of you?” she offered, and you put the tray of glasses down, sighing and looking over to her.

“He just kind of, walked off.” you reminded her, “He just pushed me away and walked off. I felt like such an idiot - it was so humiliating, I mean he flirts with me, he asks me about all the right things, he wants to know about me, and who I am in a way that no guy ever has before. And I guess I got so caught up in my feelings that I didn’t realise they were one-sided. He pushed me away, and there’s only one way to take that. Besides, you saw how he acted at the yard.” You dropped your head into your hands. “How do I face him Kie?” you could feel her rub your back, “How do I face him, and the boys - he’s definitely told the boys - after I embarrassed myself like that?”

She sighed, taking your face in her hands, “With your head held high, like a fucking a boss, because it’s his loss.”

“You’re a poet and you don’t even know it.”

You had dined at the Wreck, still ignoring JJ and agreeing to reconvene at the Chateau in the early morning to test the drone, which was what you were now doing, as the sun began to creep over the marsh, dawn only having been an hour ago. Pope and JJ stood next to you, checking the camera, with Kie and John B in the water and you sat on the side of the pontoon.

“God bless geeks, Pope, truly man.” JJ said, looking at the screen. “What would we do without you to control the drone?”

“It’s not a drone,” you pointed out, “It’s an ROV.”

“Shut up, shut up.” He said, looking out at Kie and John B, “It’s too early for that right now.”

“Hey, once we get footage of the wreck, we’ll bring it to a lawyer in town and file a claim.” said John B.

“It’s such bullshit, why do we have to do that?”

“Well there is maritime salvage law.” You pointed out.

“You can’t just go to the bottom of the ocean and scoop a bunch of stuff up.” confirmed Pope.

“I know, I know, it’s just, lawyers aren’t cheap, bro.”

“JJ, we’re about to get our hands on 400 mil, and you’re worried about being cheap?” you snorted.

“And as soon as they see the footage they’ll work for a comp.” John B explained.

“How do you know all of that?” Kie asked.

“‘Cause my dad said it. Like, a million times.”

“This tether is like, really long.” Pope pointed out, “In the wrong weather it could get pushed around.”

“Then we’ll go in dead calm.” you shrugged, glancing at the storm clouds above you, “So not today.”

“So now we just gotta wait around for the right weather.” You pulled up the weather app on your phone, “Or tomorrow, thank God.” You stood up, “I gotta go anyway. I’ll be back tomorrow evening, so see you guys then.”

The pogues looked confused and you shrugged, “I have a ferry to catch.”

“A ferry?” Kie asked.

“Yeah, my brother’s driving from college to Florida to meet his girlfriend so he’s passing through, I said I’d meet him on the mainland until he leaves tomorrow.” you explained, grabbing your bag. “See you later.”

“Do you ever think about Mom?” you asked, taking a scoop of ice cream, making Lewis look at you, nodding slowly. “‘Cause I feel shitty, like yeah, she did some fucked up shit, and is one of the major factors as to why I’m now living in some islands on the other side of the country, but, she keeps calling me, and I want to pick up. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No.” Your brother shook his head, “She’s our mom, you’re still allowed to talk to her, even if you can’t see her. Besides, we deserve some closure, so if you can get it off her, then do.”

You nodded. “I miss her. And I miss how happy Dad was when he was around her. How happy we all were. It hurts that she did that to us.” you looked out to sea, watching the islands in the distance.

“Me too, little sis, me too.” he leant against the bollard next to him.

“So, you have a girlfriend.” you grinned at the way he blushed, “How long you been together?”

“Eight months, since the start of college.” he smiled.

“I’m happy for you.” you smiled at the thought of him finally finding the right girl, he deserved it.

“Thanks.” he grinned, “How about you? Any guys in the Outer Banks catching your eye?”

You thought about lying, but you decided you’d done enough of that for a lifetime. “There was, but I don’t think so anymore. Things are… weird.”

“Oh yeah, what’s his name?” he nudged you.

“JJ. I thought we had something going on, but I guess he made it clear that that was fabricated.”

“How so?”

“We were like, hanging out everyday, and flirting and shit, but he kinda rejected me when I kissed him.”

“It’s his loss, any guy would be lucky to have you. But if you need me to kick his ass, I’ll get on that ferry with you and do it like, as soon as I can.”

“You’re so extra.”

“You got friends?”

“What do you mean? You think I’m a loner or something?”

“It’s a simple question!”

“Yes. Yes, I have friends.”

“Good friends? They look out for you?”

“Yeah. I’ve known them a month and they’re already better friends than any of my old ones were. They’re the one reason I’m glad I live in the Outer Banks now. I love them, weird as it sounds. And they love me.”

You went back to the motel he’d rented you rooms in, and sat on your bed, opening your phone and staring at the many missed calls from your mom. You tapped the call button, holding the phone to your ear.

It rang twice, then the line opened with a small crackle.

“Hey Mom.”

“Sweetie,” you could almost hear her relieved smile, “How are you?”

“I’m… uh, I’m good. I’m settling in. How’s Chris?”

“That’s great! He’s good, we’re good. Thank you. For calling back.”

“Why did you call, Mom?”

“I wanted to apologise. I’m so sorry. What I did - it tore us apart, and it was unforgivable. And now I see the situation you’re in and I wish I could take it back.”

“But you can’t, Mom. You destroyed my life, and you called to kill tow birds with one stone - pretend to seem like the caring mom you proved yourself not to be, and to clear your own conscience. Well fuck you. You really wanna know how I’m doing? I haven’t talked to any of my close friends from Cali because you made us move so suddenly that they thought I’d hid it from them. They all think I’m a slut, and I couldn’t win the fucking court case because of you! You left Dad high and dry, for a rich dude you’d known for a month!”

“Y/N,” she sighed through the phone, and you noticed that your cheeks were wet and stiff with tears.

“No, Mom. Don’t call again. Don’t try to contact me. I thought this would help get me closure, but your apology is just an excuse! I - I don’t ever wanna talk to you again.”

“I love you.”

You hung up, falling back onto the motel bed, and letting the sobs shake your body with such force that you couldn’t breathe.

You got back late the next day, when the sky was falling into darker hues every minute. You were tired, but you missed your friends. You dropped your bag off in the hallway and headed straight over the road to the Chateau. You found them in the hammocks. “Hey.”

Kie squealed, jumping up and tackling you in a hug that made you stumble back.

“Missed you,” she smiled, “had to deal with these shitheads by myself.”

“Sorry.” you smiled, climbing into the hammock with her as the boys protested to her insults.

“You missed some good waves.” John B commented.

“You guys know I don’t surf.” You chuckled. “I’m sure they were great though.”

“But you should surf.” JJ said, sitting on the other end of the hammock, both of your feet thrown over his. “How’s your brother?”

“I’m good without that hobby.” you laughed. “He’s good, enjoying college. What were y’all talking about?”

“How JJ believes in the gold.” Kie smirked.

“Oh my God, JJ, do you really believe?” John B joked.

“Totally. Wait, are we talking about four mil?”

“Four hundred mil.” You corrected, speaking softly, your anger at him seemingly having dissipated.

“I’m gonna dream about shipwrecks.” he rolled onto his side, as you and Kie giggled.

“Goodnight, Bird!” You laughed.

“Goodnight, Birdshit!” Pope mocked, making you all laugh.

“I love you guys.” You muttered, feeling Kie cuddle into you.

You stood at the bow, sunglasses on as you watched the waves roll out in front of you, and the wind bite at your skin, whipping your hair out behind you.

“Alright JJ, pin it here.” John B called, and you turned around, hopping off the front of the boat as JJ responded.

“Roger that, x marks the spot.” you walked to Kie, helping her with the wire.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen.” John B pulled out the ROV, “To going full kook.” he plopped the drone in the water, high-fiving you as he walked back to Pope. Kie started feeding the wire through, and you sat down next to JJ in the cockpit, watching how he pouted when you stole his seat. “Alright, JJ, we’re right over it, ten seconds northwest.”

“Got it!” he repeated the instructions as he followed them. “Why are you in here?”

“I wanted to sit down.” You countered, swivelling the chair from side to side.

“One hundred feet!” Kie called.

“You could sit down outside.” he nodded to the benches outside.

“But then you wouldn’t get the pleasure of my company!”

“I wouldn’t call it a pleasure.” he joked.

“Two hundred feet.” Kie’s call came.

You put your hand to your chest in fake offence, “C’mon man, you’re breakin’ my heart!”

“Sorry, bro.” he said, adjusting the steering.

“Three hundred feet.”

“JJ why did you push me away when I kissed you?”

“Y/N, while I would love to have this conversation, now is not the time.”

“Four hundred feet.” Kie looked down, “The tide’s turning.”

“Hey JJ?” John B called out.

“Yup.” You responded for him, swivelling the seat towards John B.

“Ten seconds, easy. South-southeast.”

You swivelled back around, repeating the instructions and ignoring the “Yeah, Y/N, I heard.” as he turned aggressively, and you shuffled the chair back.

“JJ, twenty seconds midspeed alright? South.” John B called.

You stood up, the sudden change in weather and instructions causing anxiety to gnaw at your stomach. You grabbed a sweater off the side, pulling it over your head to keep the wind from giving you hypothermia. You went to Pope and John B, hoping to make yourself useful.

“What’s going on?” You asked, looking at the storm clouds.

“700 feet!” Kie called, and Pope turned to you.

“A little bad weather, we’re fine.” He assured you, and you nodded slowly, knowing he could see you were still anxious.

You stumbled to the side as the waves crashed into the boat, JJ looking back at you, concerned. “This is not ‘dead calm’.” you mumbled as JJ peered out at the clouds.

“JJ, hold it steady!” John B called.

“900!” Kie called.

“JJ, we’re gonna turtle in this storm.” You said, watching the panic in your friends, as you fumbled with the sleeves. “Can I help with anything?”

“Sort the speed.” He said, moving so you could control the meter.

“920!” Kie yelled.

“Crank it north by northwest! Ten seconds!” John B called, panic clear in his voice.

“John B there’s too much current, we’re gonna lose it!” Kie yelled.

“South southwest JJ! Hard!” John B yelled, and you pushed the meter, turning quickly, working in tandem with the blonde boy.

“Half speed! Steady at this bearing, JJ!” He steered by his instructions as you slowed the boat.

“960!”

“980!”

You heard Pope yelling that you were at the bottom, and John B yelling for JJ to be steady, calling for quarter-speed. You slowed the boat again, both you and JJ looking at where the others crowded around the monitor.

“See anything?” JJ called.

You could see them mumbling, and their faces falling. They had found the boat, but came up empty. You helped JJ steer as they swept the wreck twice more, before running out of battery. You could hear Pope trying to bring the optimism back, but you knew it was futile.

“Guys, we’ve been through it three times, there’s nothing there.” you called.

“Shut up!” Kie shouted back, and you sighed, dejected.

“What? She’s right!” JJ backed you. You pulled your hand through your hair, taking the speed controls back off JJ.

“The gold could be buried, we don’t know!” Kie shouted, searching for something hopeful to say.

“If it was there, it would have been found on the metal detector, okay?” John B turned to face the group again. “Somebody beat us to it.”

You could see JJ getting frustrated, the sight of his best friend in pain clearly getting to him. “Or it was never there.” he muttered. You sighed, turning to check on your friends, who were riddled with frustration and anger. Eventually, you decided to go home.

When you eventually got back to the island, Kie pulled you aside.

“Are you and JJ alright again?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. Even if he doesn’t see me like that, I don’t wanna lose him. I talked to my brother about it, and I just feel like we should at least try to be good again.”

“You know we all love you either way right? And JJ cares about you, you guys have got to sort it out, you may have only known each other for less than a month, but I honestly can’t imagine how he’d be if he fucked things up with you.”

“You sure about that?”

“‘Course. Anyway, you’re coming out with me, Pope and JJ, maybe JB, tomorrow anyway.”

“I am?”

“Movie night down in the Kook Green.”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @teamnick @thoughtsofthestars @obxmxybxnk @jjmaybankswife @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @sxcretinhuman @alexa-playafricabytoto @angvelics @badwolf00593

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mermaidsirennikita · 4 years ago

Note

I didn’t know about Diana’s bulimia and suicide attempts until watching the doc on Netflix yesterday and I really can’t imagine how William and Harry even tolerate any of the Windsors.

Tbh, I don’t get the sense that Harry DOES anymore lol. And now I’m going to indulge myself and do a whole rundown lol.

Here’s what I know about Harry’s relationship to the Windsors, based on various bits of gossip picked up over many years of royal-watching (as a disclaimer): Harry was once extremely close to his brother William to a codependent degree. This was probably the kind of “glue” that kept him close to the rest of the family as he grew up and dealt with various mental health struggles and what was clearly, from his military service years onwards, a burgeoning desire to “break free”. This closeness extended to Kate, who William has obviously been with for many years, close to two decades counting their dating era. These three were kind of packaged as a trio until Harry got married, and he was never REALLY an independent royal spokesperson for anything beyond military causes.

Fast forward to Meghan entering the picture. Harry gets serious about Meghan very quickly, William expresses concern that Harry moved that quickly because William is one of THOSE older siblings who assumes that everyone has to do everything the same way. Harry is super hurt by this as he and William have previously had each other’s backs over basically everything, including the infamous Harry Takes Las Vegas scandal, and a wedge is driven between them. Rumor has it that this wedge actually deepens because.... William cheats on Kate. Which Harry apparently was already pissed about because he really did love Kate as a sister + fears of history repeats with a future Prince of Wales, but THEN as the media already starts attacking Meghan, the Cambridge camp ALLEGEDLY begins planting fake stories about Meghan and exaggerating true-ish stories (like... Harry throwing a fit about wanting Meghan to get what she wants for their wedding turns into Meghan pitching a fit about a tiara, for example) in order to distract from the TRUE scandal, which is William cheating on Kate with a mutual friend. Meghan is pregnant and very emotionally stressed already right now due to the media issues and her father’s side of the family being garbage. So Harry understandably ices William out for this, and they’ve never been the same since.

Regarding his father, Harry and William have apparently always run hot and cold towards Charles? Like they’ll be super close at times (Harry obviously was super grateful to Charles for walking Meghan down the aisle, which was a nice gesture but APPARENTLY HOLLOW BIG SHOCK CHARLES) and then other times it’s hard for the younger princes to be convinced to do anything with the Prince of Wales. I imagine this wouldn’t be as much of an issue if Charles wasn’t married to Camilla, tbh. The big family photo that was taken with William and Harry and their wives and William’s kids and Charles and Camilla was apparently really hard to coordinate because both Harry and William didn’t really wanna show up lol. I’ve heard little concrete about Charles’s feelings re: Harry breaking free, but he has apparently tried to be Mr. Big Man by forcing the brothers to talk, by coordinating conversations between Harry and the Queen about all of this, etc. Charles wanted to par down the senior royal circle anyway when he became king--hence Andrew’s family getting quietly put in the shadows. (Charles knew the Andrew issue was going to be A Bigger Deal In The Future before anyone else in the family, apparently.). But I don’t know that Harry’s exit was.... how he wanted that go down. He also apparently clashes with William a lot because both of them want to swing their dicks around be the One True Heir. Charles is never going to step down, he’s dying to be in charge, but William knows that he’s much more popular than Charles and will be following him up anyway. Kind of a similar dynamic to the queen and Charles, but flipped in that the son has much more popularity than the parent.

The Queen has always favored Harry, and... though she’s pissed about how the exit was handled, I’ve always read shit that this hasn’t...? Really? Changed? The Queen loves a rake, is the thing. Andrew was her favorite child and probably still is, Harry was and probably still is deep down her favorite grandchild. She adores a military man who gets into a bit of trouble and is rascally. So I don’t think that the personal relationship with them is actually as bad as Harry’s relationship with Charles is--which, bad luck for him, because Charles is running the show on a practical level more than the queen is right now.

William is a pod person. This is an exaggeration lol BUT. Diana always said that William was an emotional individual and the rumor has always been that he’s very much a “burn me once and you’re dead to me” type. Which is ironically what Diana was. William hates the press; William hates the idea of Harry and Meghan coming off as more glam and charismatic than himself and Kate, even though that’s naturally going to be a perception to some when William and Kate don’t do as much press and Kate is a naturally shy person compared to the more outgoing and new age Meghan; and William has been heavily conditioned to be the heir and has evidently bought into all of that bullshit hook, line, and sinker.

And tbh, that’s not surprising. The heir is always the most “programmed” one. It might have been different had Diana lived and been able to continue keeping William a bit more normalized? He’s certainly not as fucking weird as Charles was at his age, to be fair. But I think that Harry had the freedom to do like, years of therapy and have his big come to Jesus moment about how much of this is just BULLSHIT in a way that William was probably a bit more prohibited from doing? It’s clear that William buys into this idea of a contract between himself and the public, where he and his act a certain way and in exchange he gets this bullshit title and he “earns” his riches and privilege by acting the prince. Whereas Harry seems to have taken a very “Diana post-divorce” approach. He clearly still values his privilege, but less so the titles and notoriety except in the sense that he can use them to accomplish his humanitarian work AND maintain that privilege. Like, Harry’s always going to be Prince Harry even if he isn’t formally Prince Harry, so I don’t begrudge him for capitalizing on that and making some $$$ off of what he was born into. Because he’s making money that way, and through Netflix deals, through the natural familial wealth that Charles CAN revoke whenever he wishes but apparently hasn’t, the money that Harry was left by Diana, etc., he is not obligated to have the same blind familial loyalty that William has. Which I’m sure has a lot to do with his break from the family. If you stay in, you’re basically making a deal with them and the public so that you can keep doing the smile and wave act to keep the lights on.

(And I will note, as someone who will forthrightly admit to preferring the Sussexes to the Cambridges--for years, Kate was referred to as Duchess Do-Little by the press, and William got some of that flack too. They do what they’ve got to do to keep those lights on and only since they started that little war with the Sussexes have I noticed a more concentrated attempt to win over the people. Because they basically got public love through popping out babies. Meghan notably did a fuckton more engagements before she started to recede from public life than Kate did in the same amount of time.)

I really do recommend the You’re Wrong About podcast again for their 5-part Diana series; the episode about her theoretical plans for life after her divorce (which sadly only lasted about a year) draws a strong contrast to what Harry and Meghan have been doing, and sheds a bit of light on what I think his feelings towards the family probably are.

#in which i blather on about royal gossip for many paragraphs #Anonymous

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markonasurface · 4 years ago

Text

things you said i wouldn’t understand

things you said but not out loud

Thea stared down at Neil. He looked confused but stepped aside to let her pass.

“He’s sleeping,” Nicky called over his shoulder.

She walked down the short hallway and let herself into their room. Nicky was wrong. Kevin sat precariously on the window, long legs dangling outside. He didn’t turn around.

“You gonna jump?” she asked and she had to grab his arm to make sure he didn’t actually fall out. There was a loud shattering noise that let her know her idiot boyfriend was indeed sitting on the edge of a top story window, drinking.

Kevin turned and slipped back into the room with surprising coordination. His eyes passed over her as he crossed to the dresser on the other side of the room and grabbed a half full bottle of - “Are you drinking vodka? At ten-thirty am on a Monday?”

He raised the bottle to his lips and took in a mouthful. He grimaced slightly, then leaned back against the dresser. “I didn’t know you were coming,” he told her with overcareful pronunciation. “When did you get in?”

“An hour ago. Wymack picked me up.”

Kevin drank again. She waited for him to say something. He drank again.

“It’s ten-thirty in the morning, Kevin.”

“You’ve already said,” he answered and drank yet again, pointedly this time.

This was a mistake, she thought but didn’t say. Instead, she turned and walked out.

Neil leaned against the doorframe ten minutes later and asked, “Is Thea okay?” Before Kevin could ask what he was talking about, he said, “She was pulled from the lineup 30 minutes before her game last night.”

Kevin shrugged and waited for Neil to leave before digging in his pocket for his phone. He had to plug it in and wait for it to get a decent enough charge for him to turn it on. He called his girlfriend but it went straight to voicemail.

He grabbed his computer and pulled up an internet browser, typing in her name. He read a few headlines.

Theodora Muldani Missing From Friday Night Lineup

Why Thea Didn’t Play

Muldani Missing in Siren’s Lineup, Food Poisoning to Blame?

Kevin tried calling her again but was once again sent to voicemail.

“Hey,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “I’m sorry about this morning. I just heard about last night though. Are you okay? Call me back.”

Kevin caught the ball and hurled it toward Jack. Jack missed it and Kevin immediately positioned himself in front of Dan’s path to steal it back. He ignored Jack’s shout of, “I’m open!” and fired at the goal from halfway down the court.

Renee missed it by half a centimeter.

Wymack called for a break.

One of the other freshmen complained about how many balls Jack missed this scrimmage. Jack took off his helmet and said, “We’re only three points down. I’m playing better than you.”

“And yet, Kevin is five shots in this morning and outplaying both of you so that’s not really saying much, is it?”

As he walked off the court, Wymack called his name. Kevin rubbed his forehead on his shirt sleeve and walked toward his father.

“Andrew’s just talking shit,” he said. “I haven’t had anything to drink this morning.” His pounding head was a constant reminder.

Wymack looked a little skeptical but said, “Great. If you’re sober, you can go pick up Thea from the airport.” He held out keys and Kevin stared at them.

“She didn’t tell me she was coming,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Twice in one month?” Nicky raised his eyebrows but kept walking.

“She said she’s texted and called you.”

Kevin went to change. After puking, showering, puking in the shower, dressing, taking a handful of ibuprofen, and downing a bottle of water, he left for the airport. Thea was waiting out front by the time he got there.

“Hey,” she said, leaning across and kissing him.

He held her hand as they drove back toward campus. “How long are you staying?”

“I’m going back in the morning,” she answered, her voice was soft. He shot her a look but she was staring out the window.

Thea was not a soft person.

“Are you just here to check on me or …?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You weren’t answering any of my calls or texts so I just needed to come see you.”

“Sorry,” he said. “My phone is dead and I just haven’t gotten around to charging -”

“You look like shit.”

He gave her an amused sort of grimace.

They got to Fox Tower a little after three. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she grabbed his hand, forcing him to turn back to her. He closed the space between them and she leaned back into the door.

He looked into her eyes, then she watched as his eyes moved to her lips, then the tip of one of her Dutch braids that he was twisting between his thumb and pointer finger. When he looked into her eyes again, she pulled him in.

His hand moved to her hip, then slowly down her thigh as he quickly deepened their kiss. His body pressed hers into the door. His fingertips trailed under her dress and she lifted her leg so her knee was pressing into his hip.

He opened his mouth, breathing hard, hands still gripping the back of her thighs. He lifted her higher for a brief moment before letting her slide her feet back to the floor.

We need to talk, she meant to say.

"Again,” she told him instead, shoulder throbbing from where he’d just bitten her. She kissed him and guided him backwards until they reached the bedroom.

When he opened his eyes, Thea was staring at him. He closed his eyes again and breathed deeply. He kissed her shoulder where a bruise was forming and asked, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, sounding distracted.

His arm was over her waist and he pulled her closer so their chests were pressed together. He moved to kiss her jaw and she wanted to say again but she forced herself to say, “We need to talk.”

Kevin pulled away, looking displeased. Talking was his least favorite thing to do these days, mostly because whenever someone talked to him, they wanted to discuss his “drinking problem.”

So he was surprised when the next words out of her mouth were, “I’m pregnant.”

Only then did he realize neither of them had thought to use a condom today, though it was probably deliberate on her part because she already knew they didn’t need one. Kevin had been careless.

His eyes narrowed slightly and he sat up. “Pregnant? We haven’t since -”

“Riko’s funeral,” she reminded him, sitting up, too. “This baby was probably conceived in the same bed you lost your virginity to - what was her name? Lauren? Liv?”

Her tone was cold. Thea was trying to rile him. He didn’t bother correcting her.

“Maybe we should have that bed shipped to us -”

He tuned her out, trying to do the math in his head. Riko had died in April. His funeral was held in May. She was still talking but he asked, “What are you, seven, eight weeks along?”

“Something like that.”

“Have you been to a doctor? Does your team doctor know?”

“Of course not,” she hissed, looking offended.

Kevin considered the information he had. “Are you going to keep it?”

Immediately he knew he had said the wrong thing. Thea turned. “Am I going to keep it?”

“That’s not what I meant -”

“I’m the woman so of course it falls on me, right? I shouldn’t have told you.”

He grabbed her arm to stop her from climbing out of his bed. “Thea, that’s not what I meant. I-I-I -” His head was spinning. He felt himself start to shake. He needed a drink.

Thea pulled her arm out of his grasp and pulled the sheet higher. “I just told you I’m pregnant and you’re thinking about your next drink.”

He wanted to refute it but he didn’t want to be a liar.

“I’ve been patient,” she said, a tear slipping down her cheek. “After everything you’ve been through and not being able to tell anyone for so long. I’ve tried to be supportive even as you destroy yourself and try to push everyone away.

“I thought when I told you I was looking for an answer from you, a-a-a declaration, a promise?” She shook her head. “Now I know I should’ve taken care of this myself and left you out of it completely.”

He offered his hand but she didn’t take it. He shook his head at it. “Thea, I’ll promise you anything you want if you want this baby,” he said. When she looked away he huffed a short laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t know how much harder women have to work. I train twice as much as the men on my team because if I don’t, coaches will think I’m not dedicated enough. I stop 73 percent more attempts at the quarter line than Thompson and he still gets paid twice as much as I do.”

Kevin never dared to interrupt Thea when she was making a point.

“I can’t risk throwing away my career in the hopes that you’ll stop drinking and you’ll be there for us.” A tear fell down her cheek. “Even if it upsets my parents or you, I don’t think I can have this baby.”

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and shook his head. He wanted to tell her she had nothing to worry about, but he knew everything she was saying was true. He was a 21 year old alcoholic with so many traumas he hadn’t even tried to start processing. Even without his issues, he would never ask her to give up Exy.

Thea climbed down the ladder and pulled her dress over her head. When she opened the bedroom door voices carried in.

“No one wants you in this apartment,” Nicky said.

“I just wanted to see if Kevin wants to run some drills tonight,” came Jack’s voice. “Oh.”

Kevin opened his mouth but Thea walked out.

“Thea! Nice to see you -”

She pushed past Nicky and snatched her bra from Jack’s outstretched hand. She stooped to pick up her panties and Wymack’s car keys, slipped on her shoes and left.

She sat in the car for awhile, trying to stop crying.

Four weeks later

When she left practice, she was surprised to see Kevin leaning against her car. She heard some of her teammates whispering. Even in the pros Kevin Day was a big deal.

He straightened as she came near. She stopped in from of him, a hand on her hip.

She expected him to ask her if they could talk. Instead, he reached out and took her hand, eyes never leaving hers. Her eyes narrowed slightly but then she realized there was something in the hand he had taken hers with.

Slowly, she opened her hand so she could see what was there. On her palm was a round, red chip. She looked back at him, eyes slightly rounder and wet.

She moved her duffle bag around to her front and opened the side pocket. She removed the envelope and held it out to Kevin.

His eyebrows furrowed and she saw his fingers trembling a little as he opened it. He took out the photo, stared, the crease in his forehead getting deeper. She saw the moment it registered as he glanced back up at her face, a question in his eyes. She nodded.

When he grabbed her hand again, Thea felt the tears falling down her cheeks. He pulled her to him, his other hand coming around to cup the back of her head as he pressed his lips firmly to hers.

She heard some wolf-whistles as she fisted the front of his jacket in her hands, a mixture of relief and nerves fluttering around in her chest.

They pulled apart only for Kevin to pull her back in again. They would have to talk but for now the red chip said everything she need to hear.

#aftg #tfc #kevin x thea #tfc fic #Things You Said

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raisondetempete · 5 years ago

Text

Monochrome Obsession (Yandere Wu Chang x Female Reader) Part I

There will be three parts, with the third part being a non-consensual lemon (I do not condone these actions). All the parts are finished, but the third part is not typed (I handwrote everything). I’m working up the courage to type it.

Edit: The third part is now out!

Edit 2: If you like my writing, check this out

I’m reposting this from my Wattpad so if you see it there, it’s not stolen. Story under line

Link to part II Hopefully I did this right

Link to part III

(y/n) - your name

(e/c) - eye colour

(f/g) - favorite genre

Character Index:

Margaretha - Female Dancer

Martha - Coordinator

Helena - The Mind’s Eye

Fiona - Priestess

Naib - Mercenary

Wu Chang - Black and White

Fan Wujiu - Black

Xie Bi’an - White

Aesop - Embalmer

Vera - Perfumer

Kevin - Cowboy

Andrew - Gravekeeper

Luca - “Prisoner”

You’ve been in the manor for about a month now. Although you’re no longer considered “new”, you don’t go into too many matches. Partly because you’re still inexperienced at matches but mostly because you’re anxiety peaks in matches.

There’s a match today and you’re determined to participate. Margaretha was supposed to participate in the match, but she sprained her ankle while practicing her dancing. So, Martha gathered everyone in the dining hall to decide who would replace her.

“Alright everyone,” Martha said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “As everyone knows, Margaretha is unable to participate in today's match. The other three survivors are Helena, Fiona, and Naib. Any survivor would do as the kiting, saving, and decoding roles are covered.” Determined to redeem yourself and to help calm your anxiety, you raise your hand.

“Umm… May I join?” you ask. Martha, slightly surprised, nods. “Just be a bit cautious as you’re still inexperienced.” Nodding, you signal that you understand. Walking over to Helena, you place your hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi,” she responds in her usual quiet voice, “I’m surprised you volunteered to join today’s match.”

“I wanted to try and get over my anxiety.”

“I understand. I had the same problem when I first got here. I think everyone did. The anxiety lessens with experience.” After saying that, she squeezes your hand reassuringly.

“We have about an hour until the match begins. You should get ready,” she says. You thank her and go into your room to prepare for the match.

You were known as the Reader. Particularly good with decoding, you would probably become one of the best decoders in the roster with more experience. However, as you spend most of your time reading, you’re not very athletic. Plus, the book you carry with you is a bit heavy, so it weighs you down significantly. As a result, when a hunter comes by, you try to hide instead of running.

What's your ability? You can see the actions of everyone in the match, including the hunter, 10 seconds before it happens using the book you constantly tote around. Unfortunately, the book takes a while to recover so you can only use it every couple of minutes.

The hour before the match flies by quickly. As you walk to the matching room, you’re legs begin to shake.

“Deep breath in (y/n). Deep breath out (y/n),” you mutter yourself as you reach the room. Fiona and Helena are already seated. You take a seat in the middle of them.

“Where’s Naib?” You ask.

“He’s getting his elbow pads from his room,” Fiona replies, fiddling with her metal ring. You bob your head and engage in a conversation with the two while waiting for Naib to come back.

Naib soon comes back and sits in the chair closest to the door.

“The match will begin in thirty seconds,” The host’s voice booms from nowhere.

‘I guess the hunter was already here then. I wonder for how long?’ you wonder. A sound of glass breaking is heard and your vision goes black.

The sound of glass breaking is heard as your vision returns. It appears you’re by the pier in Lakeside Village. The sound of Helena’s cane is heard and you can vaguely see everyone’s outline. Apparently, the hunter is Wu Chang. You haven’t had any matches with him yet but you’ve heard stories from the other survivors. Wu Chang is made up of two people. The white version is more docile than other hunters and mostly patrols the area while the black version is incredibly aggressive. Due to the Black’s aggression and White’s huge hitbox, Wu Chang is a feared hunter among the survivors. You really don’t want to encounter him.

Before running over to the cipher machine nearby, you turn to see where everyone was. Helena is over by the shore cipher, decoding. Fiona is far behind you, working on the cipher within by the boatshed. Naib is in the cornfields. You open your book to see who the hunter will go after first.

Fiona is hurriedly decoding the boatshed cipher, wiping the sweat off her brow as she focuses, while Helena works on the shore cipher. Naib is working on the cornfield cipher but will quickly be interrupted by the smirking mercilessly Black form of Wu Chang.

You call out to Naib that the hunter is going to attack him, hoping that the winds present in Lakeside would carry your voice across the map. As you run to the cipher to begin decoding, you hear Naib call out a thank you. Unfortunately, Wu Chang must have also heard you because a bell sound is heard before Naib is hit.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself.

“Don’t move! I’m coming!” Fiona calls out. A light bell sound is heard, meaning a cipher has been completed. Helena sure is fast. You continue decoding until a female scream is heard out. Fiona.

“Continue decoding!” she yells out. Helena hits her cane again, revealing Fiona chaired nearby. Naib, seeing you, runs over to you.

“Can you quickly heal me,” he asks, gesturing to the cuts on his arms. By the time you are able to heal him, Fiona likely has less than half a minute left before the rocket chair sends her back to the manor. Naib equips his elbow pads and dashes off. You continue decoding and finish the cipher. Unfortunately, it seems Naib wasn’t able to make it in time. Fiona’s screams as she blasts off are mingled with Naib’s as he is hit. Helena hits her cane once more, revealing Naib by the cornfields and Helena decoding the shack cipher by the shore.

Your book has recovered by this point so you open it.

Naib runs around the windmill by the shore door, heart beating wildly. Unfortunately for Naib, White teleports using his umbrella. Unwisely looking fearfully behind him, Naib runs headfirst into Black. Naib screams in terror as the grinning Black hits him.

“Naib!” you scream. “White is going to teleport to you when you go around the windmill!”

“Thanks (y/n)!” Naib yells back. You smile, happy with yourself that you helped in some way. You run to the barely started cornfield cipher and begin decoding. A light bell sound is heard, meaning Helena finished her cipher. Great! You were half done yours. Your happiness fades away seconds later as Naib screams as he is hit.

“Just a bit longer Naib! I’m almost done!” You call out. Helena hits her cane, revealing her by the ship exit gate and Naib limping in pain, Wu Chang right behind him. Before the vision of the two fades, you see Naib vault a window, thinking Wu Chang isn’t far behind him. Unluckily for Naib, it’s a slow vault. Wu Chang hits him as he’s vaulting, resulting in a terror shock.

“Keep decoding! I’m saving him!” Helena calls out.

“Helena! Don’t!” you scream out, only to be met with silence. You fearfully keep decoding, not knowing what else to do. A feminine scream pierces through the night soon after. You try decoding faster, hoping to at least assist Helena with Borrowed Time.

“Keep it up, Helena!” Naib shouts from his place in the chair.

“I’m almost done decoding!” you also shout out into the night. Just as you're about to pop the last cipher, a bell sound is heard. Unfortunately, this one doesn’t mean someone's done decoding. Helena manages to hit her cane before being downed, almost as if she knew it was inevitable

“Come on… Come on…” you mutter, decoding faster than you’ve ever decoded before, not even checking if Helena was picked up. You finish decoding and a siren is heard.

“Yes!” you shout. A fizzing was heard.

“She was chaired!” Naib yells as he flies through the air. You freeze. It was just you and Helena left and Helena was already chaired. You don’t even know where the dungeon is. You hold onto the cipher, shaking intensely. This was exactly what you didn’t want to happen. No matter what you did, you were screwed. Maybe you could save if…

“The hunter has detention!” Helena calls out, interrupting your thoughts.

‘There goes that idea,’ You bitterly think to yourself.

“Don’t save me! Open the door!” she replies.

“But what about-”

“Just do it!” Helena’s usually calm and quiet demeanor is replaced by a firm tone. Begrudgingly, you head towards the cornfield door.

Just as you reach the door, you hear Helena’s terrified scream as she blasts off into the night. Trying to ignore your anxiety-ridden thoughts, you start entering the code for the door. A blast of red light besides you is your only clue to start running. You head into the cornfields, only looking back to see Black stalking after you, long hair blowing in the breeze behind him. You huddle in a corner of the field and bite down hard on your right hand in order for the scream bubbling up in your throat not to release.

Soon after you crouch, you hear the footsteps of Wu Chang near you, his eyes glowing a scarlet red. You dig your fingers hard into your palm to the point where blood is nearly drawn. That’s when he enters your vision. Black is walking vertically towards where you are crouching, sighing as he goes. In a couple seconds, he’ll be upon you. You hold your breath, not knowing what else to do.

Then, he looks directly at you. Your pounding heart stops as you see black spots in your vision.

‘I’m going to die. I’m going to die,’ you keep repeating in your head. Blood spurts from your hands from how hard you are biting/digging in to them. Black comes towards you and…

Completely ignores you.

He walks inches by you, his long braid almost hitting you in the face. You don’t dare to even turn your head to see where he is going. You only dare to move when the purple glow from your chest has completely disappeared. You run back to the cornfield gate and continue putting in the code. The gate quickly opens and you dash through. As you disappear into the night, one thought echoes in your head.

‘He saw me so why didn’t he down me?’

Over the next few months, you began to see Wu Chang in matches frequently, they being the most common hunter you see. Thus, when you were chosen for a match, everyone assumed the hunter would be Wu Chang.

As for your interactions with the Black and White hunter, they’ve been acting odd towards you. There’s only been one match where they’ve hit you. Instead, they would just stare at you for a bit before walking away. Even the bloody thirsty Black never made a move to hurt you.

The one time they hit you was about a month ago in the Red Church. There were three ciphers decided and you were the last survivor left. You tried looking for dungeon but quickly got crows. You started sprinting towards a random direction but White quickly found you. Scared, you tried to run in the opposite direction. Sighing, White hit you with his umbrella… well, “hit” isn’t the right word. He more bruised you on the arm, applying just enough force for you to be considered injured. You ran to the cemetery and hid. White quickly caught up to you, siphoning your soul. He stopped right before your soul was fully siphoned. Unfortunately, he was now right in front of you. He had “hit” you again on the other arm, making you downed. He picked you up carefully, as if he were holding an injured baby bird, and brought you to the open dungeon. He then let you struggle free from his arms. Before you had jumped into the dungeon, you let out a small “Thank you”.

Now, you’re lazing on your bed, reading a (f/g) book when there’s a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you softly call out. The door opens, revealing Aesop. Aesop has been your closest friend during your stay at the manor. You quickly bonded over your mutual social anxiety. Although you thought his fascination with dead bodies was weird at first, you eventually came to accept his interests. There was even a time when you thought you had heard him say that you were better than his dead bodies.

“What is it?” you question.

“We have a match with Vera and Kevin in ten minutes,” Aesop replies, gesturing to his embalming case.

“Let me just get my book,” you say. You run over to your bedside table, grab your book from its place on your bedside table, and run over to the waiting Aesop. You walk down together to the matching room.

When you both arrive to the table, Kevin is chatting animatedly to Vera, much to her annoyance. Trying to get away from the awkward situation, you and Aesop decide to sit as far away from the duo as possible. Seeing the two of you arrive, Kevin and Vera confirm into the match.

“Are you ready?” Aesop whispers into your ear.

“I think so,” you say, looking down at your slightly shaking hands. You still haven’t gotten over your nervousness in matches. Even Andrew and Luca have gotten over their original nervousness despite coming to the mansion after you. Aesop looks at you and squeezes your hand reassuringly. You look back at him but you can’t see his expression behind his mask. You both confirm. You hear glass breaking and your vision goes black.

When the sound of breaking once again reaches your ears, your vision returns. Looking around you, you realize the map you’re in is the Arms Factory. You shiver as an ominous feeling hits you in the face. This is your least favorite map. The eerie feeling emanating from the abandoned factory has always creeped you out. Today, however, it wasn’t the factory giving you the feeling of dread.

This match is no ordinary match.

You don’t know how you know this. It was just a gut feeling. You open your book to see where everyone has ended up.

Aesop is standing idly around in the factory, grey eyes darting around wildly. Once he sees the glowing cipher machine, he runs over to it and begins typing away. Vera is out in the open as she clacks away on the keyboard, running her hand through her brown hair as she does so. Kevin is decoding the cipher in the outside room, spitting onto the ground every now and then. Cackling, Wu Chang appears from the back left entrance, a smirk on their face growing ever wider.

“Kevin! Wu Chang is behind you!” you call out.

“Thanks baby girl,” Kevin coos from the distance. You repress a shudder and head into the factory to meet up with Aesop.

Aesop is already decoding when you get inside the factory. You run over to the cipher.

“Umm… is it okay if I decode with you?” you question. Aesop, being uncomfortable around others, has a slowing decoding speed when others decode with him.

“Yeah. My decoding stays normal with you because I’m comfortable around you,” Aesop replies. You beam at him as you begin decoding.

“Keep decoding. I’m going to place my coffin,” Aesop says. You nod as you continue decoding. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aesop go out the door to the right of you. A loud grunt is heard from Kevin, signalling that he’s been hit. Aesop returns soon after and assists you with decoding. You both quickly finish decoding the cipher and decide to split up, with you going out the left door and Aesop going out the right.

You find a cipher out in the open and begin decoding. A nearby grunt fills the air, signalling Kevin just went down.

“I’ll be there in a second! Let me finish this cipher,” Vera’s voice pierces through the fog as she finishes her cipher. You then see her sprint across the plain in the direction of where Kevin’s yell came from.

“Keep it up Vera,” you encourage her as she runs past you. She shoots you a smile and keeps running. You hear the snaps of Kevin being chaired as a faint purple glow covers your chest. Taking that as your signal to leave, you run off to find a different cipher. When you’re running, you hear Vera’s scream.

“Good job getting terror shocked,” Kevin’s sarcastic voice carries through the mist.

“Shut up!” a very pissed off Vera snarls back as she’s taken away.

“Aesop, where are you!,” you call out as softly as you can.

“Over here,” a whisper to your right replies, so faint that you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t paying attention. You run over to the right where you find Aesop huddling behind a wall.

“I’m going to save Vera while you decode,” he mutters to you.

“Before you go, let me use my book so I can help you.” You open your book and begin to read aloud.

“Aesop is running to the chaired Vera, panting slightly as sweat trails down his temple. Kevin’s terrified shout fills the air as he flies into the air, doomed to another round of the accursed game. Aesop is almost within eyesight with the chaired Vera before getting hit by the White Guard. (y/n) has returned to her cipher only to find its been abnormaled, returning it to it to 25% decoded,” you read out.

There is a moment of tense silence before Aesop speaks.

“(y/n), I would suggest you do a cipher as far away from Vera and me as you can. Focus on decoding. There may be a way to get a tie,” Aesop rapidly tells you, his tone commanding.

“I understand. Go save Vera,” you sigh, feeling useless and worried for Aesop. Aesop squeezes your hand, noting your dark mood.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry,” he says before kissing you tenderly on the forehead before running off, leaving you gaping you gaping after him. What breaks you out of your stunned stupor is the feeling of the darkness around you increase tenfold.

“Aesop!” you call after him but he’s too far away for him to hear you. You sigh before you run to a far away cipher and begin decoding. While decoding, you hear Aesop getting hit before saving Vera. Vera is quickly downed and chaired.

“Thank you soooo much,” her bitter voice shouts as she blast off.

“Focus on decoding, (y/n),” Aesop calls out, his voice echoing through the foggy surroundings. You don’t respond, not wanting to give away your location.

You’re about halfway decoded when you hear someone getting hit fairly nearby.

‘They’re probably not going to chair him as he placed his coffin,” you think, only to be quickly proven wrong when you hear the sound of someone being clipped into a chair.

‘Why…’ you think before you see the faint image of an umbrella flying through the air in the direction of the factory. They know where his coffin is!

“Aesop! Watch out!” You shout, not caring if Wu Chang hears you anymore. There’s a tense moment of silence before a blood curdling scream pierces through the silence, resulting in you missing a calibration in surprise. Aesop is a quiet person. What could cause him to scream like that? You once again hear the clanking of someone being placed into a chair. That’s odd. When Aesop comes of his coffin, he has the trait “Borrowed Time”, allowing survivors to go down for thirty seconds. The odd thing was that he went down almost immediately, something that shouldn’t happen…

You try to focus on your calibration. Unfortunately, due to you missing a calibration, you were ¾ decoded. With Aesop being chaired, you likely have half a minute at the most to decode.

“Aesop! Do you want me to come save you?” you call out. No reply.

“Aesop?” You nervously call out again as you decode, fear, cold as ice, spreading through you. Only the creaking of the factory answers you. You try to speed up your decoding but the knot of dread in your stomach easily distracts you.

When you’re almost finished decoding, your heart begins to beat out of your chest. Literally. Not taking any chances, you hide behind a nearby wall. Footsteps approach the rapidly whirring cipher before a kick is heard and the whirring slows down to a near stop. Didn’t they just use abnormal? You check your book to see if it’s ready to be used again. There’s a minute left before you can use it. Your book and abnormal have the same cool down time so how come Wu Chang was able to abnormal your cipher?

It’s then you hear the distinct fizzing of a rocket chair blasting off. You’re doomed. As Aesop flies through the fog, you decide to run as far away from the cipher as you can. You quickly heard the slow pace of footsteps behind you. No matter where you ran, how far away you got from him, a strong purple glow remains around your heart, never wavering in the slightest. You were curious to see how far they were behind you so you looked back, only to run first into a… pair of legs? You fall to the ground, letting out a little squeak of pain when you hit the ground. Heart pounding wildly--and not because the hunter was close--, you look up. Black stands over you, purple eyes staring into your own (e/c) eyes.

He shoots you a smirk before purring, “Hello (y/n).”

“What the… I thought you were behind me,” you mutter, feeling numb from defeat. Black chuckles darkly before moving closer to you. You back up everytime he moves closer to you, making sure to keep your eyes on him so that he wouldn’t try to hit you when your back is turned. As he takes another step towards you, you take a step backwards only to run into another pair of legs. You confusedly staring at the still smirking Black in front of you before looking up, only for your heart to drop. White is looking down at you, his mouth forming a serene smile.

“Y-You two can-” “We can separate of course, my dear (y/n),” White cuts you off.

“M-My dear? What do you mean?” You question. Black gives you a grin.

“Angel, we’ve fallen in love with you,” Black declares. You mouth drops open. You slowly turn your head towards Black then back to White. White chuckles before clearing his throat.

“My name is Xie Bi’an and this is my friend Fan Wujiu,” White tells you.

“Umm… nice to meet you Shi.. Fa…” you stutter out, having trouble trouble with both of their names.

“I believe the survivors call us Black and White? You may call us that as you seem to have trouble pronouncing our names, love,” White replies to your feeble attempt.

“Back to business,” Black begins. “As we have fallen in love with you, we’ve decided to take you with us to the hunter’s side of the mansion.”

‘Is that even allowed?’ You wonder to yourself.

“I’m sorry but I can’t go with you. I like being on the survivor’s side of the mansion with the others. Plus, I only just properly met you,” you hesitantly retort, trying to choose you words carefully as to not offend them. However, it seems your attempt was in vain as their eyes darken at your words.

“We’ve been in matches with you for months and you say you don’t know us?” White growls, hands gripping his clothes tightly in anger.

“Do you honestly prefer the over us?” Black snarls as his lip curls up in disgust. Then, they both pause.

“Do you prefer him over us?” They menacingly mutter in unison.

“Who do you mean?” You question as you start to shake.

“That fucking Embalmer! I saw what he did to you,” Black spits out.

“Aesop? I don’t have any feelings for him…” you reply. But do you? It seems that the two of them notice your uncertainty as the dark aura around them grows in intensity. You look around for a way out of this tense situation. Fortunately, you see a window in the wall to the left of you. Hopefully the dungeon is nearby.

You step away from White towards the window and Black, causing him to raise an eyebrow. Without any warning, you sprint towards the wall and vault it, luckily getting a fast vault.

“I’m sorry but I don’t return your feelings!” you call behind you as you run away. White sighs as Black scales the window, scowling. You run behind a wall, making sure no one saw you. As your book is recharged, you open it.

(y/n) dashes towards the factory, pleading for luck to be on her side for once. Black and White are hot on her trail and rapidly gaining. (y/n) reaches the side of the factory and sees the open hatch.

You finish reading and eye the distance between you and the factory. According to the book, it’s likely you’ll be able to reach the dungeon before they catch up to you. Taking a deep breath before exhaling, you make a break for the factory.

Your rapid footsteps are quickly accompanied by two sets of larger footsteps.

“(y/n), you’re making us rather angry. Please give up now,” White soothes you, as if he’s talking to a troublesome child.

“We won’t punish you… much,” Black sadistically laughs. You try not to let your anxiety take over you but it’s hard. You reach the outside of the factory and head to the right. Just like the book said, the hatch is in front of you! You begin to run over but fall to the ground as blue light, accompanied by a bell sound, reaches your feet. No! You try to quickly get up only to be scooped up by a strong pair of arms covered in black robes.

“Let me go!” you shout as your body flais around, desperate tears falling from your eyes. Black snickers before bringing his wildly grinning face to yours.

“Gotcha~” he purrs. Your eyes widen as you try to move your head away from his. Black only shakes his head and adjusting you in his arms so that he has a free hand. He takes your chin and brought you so close to him that your noses are almost touching. Being so close, you can’t help but admire his handsome appearance. His mostly ash-black skin contrast perfectly with the one patch of bone-white skin over his right eye. His glowing yellow eyes stare deeply into yours taking in every detail of your face just as you’re doing to him. When you’re finished looking at him, Black’s ever familiar smirk grows.

“Like what you see, Doll?” Black purrs, bringing his face, if it’s even possible, closer to yours. You let out a small squeak and blush slightly at the close proximity of the two of you.

“Angel, what a little seductress you are. Teasing me with that red face? How lewd of you. Well, I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” the tall man murmurs half to you and half to himself. Before you can ask what he means, he smashes his lips on yours. Immediately, you begin to squirm, pursuing your hands against his chest. Black only laughs, the vibrations reverberating on your skin. After a minute or so, he pulls away, leaving you gasping for breath.

That was your first kiss. As you’re a naturally introverted person, you have few friends, much less a romantic relationship. To have something so special and important taken from you sends you further into an abyss of depression.

You feel a breath on your left ear as you’re transferred into another pair of arms.

“I have to agree with Fan. You are quite the hidden temptress. Making me so jealous as you give all your attention right in front of me,” White hums into your left ear before lightly blowing on it. You let out a squeak of surprise at the foreign feeling, causing an amused smile to appear on White’s face.

You peer at White between your eyelashes. He has the exact same facial features as Black, all the way down to the height of his cheekbones and the vibrant purple colour of his eyes. The only difference between the two is their skin colour is inverted. White’s skin is a bone-white colour except for the patch of ash-black skin over his left eye, the opposite side to Black’s patch.

White, noticing you watching him, laughs softly before gently taking your chin in his hand.

“You don’t know how envious I was when I saw Fan take your first kiss,” White whispers lightly to you. “I’ll have to be the first in taking something else then…” You blush scarlet at his implications. You wouldn’t have expected a comment like that from White. Black definitely but not White. Maybe he isn’t the person you thought he was.

White laughs airily at your confused expression before softly placing his lips on yours. The kiss is different than the kiss with Black. While Black was rough and sloppy with passion, White is soft and caring, effectively conveying his deep love for you. If you weren’t in your current situation, you would’ve enjoyed it. It’s hard not to become putty in his hands.

After a couple of seconds, White moves his lips away from yours, his glowing purple eyes boring into yours.

“Ah. It was even better than I imagined it to be,” White sighs.

“W-What are you going to do t-to me now,” you stutter, scared out of your mind. Black and White look at each other before turning back to you, wide grins on their faces.

“Doll, we’re following our original plan: taking you with us,” Black slyly purrs.

“I’m so happy, darling! We finally get to be together,” White cheers and clutches you closer to him, burying your face into his chest. However, he softens his grip once he realizes his white robe is getting wet. He pulls you away from his to see your red eyes and tears flowing down your (s/c) cheeks.

“Good job Xie. You made her cry,” Black groans, rolling his eyes before taking you from White.

“I-I don’t want to sob go with sob you,” You sob. Black and White’s eyes darken.

“Unfortunately for you, angel, you don’t really have a choice in the matter,” Black growls.

“Love, we can’t let you go. We love you too much,” White says, reaching out to reassuringly cup your face. You shy away. A look of hurt crosses his face as he retracts his hand.

You begin to struggle again, causing Black to groan.

“Angel, I didn’t want to do this to you,” Black sighs.

“What are you talking about?” you nervously ask as he carries you inside the factory to a series of pipes.

“This is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you,” Black murmurs before putting you on the ground, taking your head in his hands, and hitting your head against the pipes. Pain blossoms in your right temple as your vision fades into nothing.

You’re awakened by something shifting besides you. You open your eyes to find darkness. You try to feel besides out to find out what’s besides you only to find your right hand in a firm grip. Your eyes quickly adjust to the darkness and you turn your head to the right.

White’s sleeping face is inches from yours, softly blowing air onto you as he firmly clutches your hand. He’s dressed in white traditional Chinese pyjamas. You then feel a squeeze around your chest, making you turn your head to the left only to jolt in fear.

Black’s intense eyes stare deeply into yours, overseeing you. His arms are wrapped possessively around your chest. He’s wearing the same clothes as White except the colour is black instead of white. You open your mouth to scream, shout, or just to do anything to let them let you go or for someone to hear you and rescue you… well, you are, presumably, on the hunter’s side of the manor. None of them would ever even think about helping you.

Black unwraps an arm from around you and covers your mouth with his hand.

“Shh. You wouldn’t want to wake him up. Plus, I want more time alone with you,” Black huskily whispers into your ear, resulting in you letting out a muffled squeak. You hear a low chuckle behind you as two arms wrap around your waist.

“I was already awake, love. I was simply enjoying your presence beside me,” White murmurs into your other ear. Black removes his hand as you open your mouth to speak.

“Umm… may I have some personal space?” you question.

“No,” they reply in unison, instead hugging you tighter.

“Darling, why don’t you just enjoy our time together?” White murmurs into the crook of your neck.

“There’s no chance of you escaping us,” Black purrs, his chin resting on top of your head.

“After all,” they say in unison.

“We love you”

#wu chang #idv #identity v #yandere #male yandere #xreader

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cmanonstillinhiding · 4 years ago

Text

second impact

@enbies-and-felonies pt 5!! i’m gonna call this one the end but i might write an epilogue of sorts at some point? i hope you like it! <3

Hotch was gracious enough to wait until 7:30 to call them in later that day, so they drove Ellie to school on their way to the BAU.

‘I’m getting my uniform today! We’re meeting our coach too, and having our first practice and-’

JJ groaned. ‘-and drowning your mothers in release forms, physical forms, contact forms, the list goes on.’

‘Oh, yeah. We got those already, they’re on the hall table. They need to be in by Friday.

Emily smirked. ‘Well, Ellie, I think your mom can help you with that. She does have experience.

‘Yeah, from the athlete’s perspective. I feel bad for my mother, having to fill all those out every year.’

Ellie rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not that bad. You have case reports longer almost every day.’

Emily sighed as they stopped in front of Ellie’s school. ‘All the more reason for you not to add on top of them! You have your things? Alright, we’ll pick you up after practice. Have a good day!’

Ellie hopped out of the car, waving as she headed into the building. Emily dodged through the rush hour traffic as they drove the familiar route to the BAU, neither one wanting to break the silence that had settled once Ellie left.

Hotch only kept them until around noon that day, just finishing up paperwork and tying off any loose ends that had been left in the investigation. After Morgan and Reid left arm-in-arm at 11:30, he gave up on anything productive and gave them the rest of the day off.

JJ drove home, half watching the road and half lost in thought until Emily reminded her she’d just missed the turn down their road. JJ sighed and turned the car around, aware of Emily’s eyes drilling into her. ‘You really want to have that talk, huh?’

‘Yeah, I do.’

‘Okay. As soon as we get home.’

JJ tossed her keys onto the hall table, grabbing Ellie’s small mountain of sports forms as she walked into the kitchen where Emily, who was already making coffee, stared at the stack. ‘All that for a middleschool sport?’

JJ sighed. ‘Oh, yeah. All that plus impact testing, insurance forms, allergy information, and gosh knows what else.’ She pulled the top packet off the pile. ‘This at least is information. Her team roster, game times, uniform rules, and her-’

Emily frowned over the counter at her pause. ‘Her what?’

JJ tossed the form back onto the table. ‘I’m going to go pick up Ellie.’

‘What? It’s 1:00, she doesn’t even get out of school for another hour and a half.’

‘I don’t want her going to practice today.’

Emily come around to grab the packet off the table. ‘I thought we were going to talk about this? What happened?’

‘Her-’ JJ’s voice broke. ‘Her coach. He used to be-’

Emily met her eyes. ‘Brian Andrews. That’s your old coach, isn’t it?’

JJ closed her eyes, barely nodding. ‘Yes. He was.’

‘You need to tell me what’s so bad about him. I don’t want your perception of him to affect Ellie.’

‘Why don’t you just trust me?’

‘JJ, you know I do. I just can’t-’

‘Can’t what? Can’t just please, please, listen to me without needing to hear exactly how he hurt me? Exactly what happened? Em, stop. Just stop, please. I don’t want to hear how I ‘need to look on the bright side’ and ‘just because I had a bad experience doesn’t mean Ellie will.’ Because that’s so, so, not what I need to hear right now. You think Ellie should be allowed to play, great, she can play. But I cannot look the man that almost killed me in the eye and tell him I’m glad he can do the same to my daughter. Emily, you have to hear this. I don’t want my life to ruin Ellie’s. But I need my life, my experience to mean something to you.’

Emily, entirely taken aback by her outburst, paused for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice had none of its previous edge. ‘What do you mean ‘he almost killed you?”

JJ shook her head, lips pressed together.

Emily nodded. ‘Okay. If you don’t want to talk right now, fine, but will you sit with me?’

‘What?’

Emily shifted over to make space for her on the couch. ‘Sit with me. Please.’

JJ sat down gingerly, bracing herself for Emily to continue the conversation.

Emily laid her hand on JJ’s knee, waiting for her to make the next move. JJ placed her own hand over Emily’s, leaning into her until she could rest her head on the other’s shoulder. Emily threaded her fingers into JJ’s hair, stroking gently until she felt her relax. ‘Hey, sweetheart. You with me?’

JJ nodded, tucking her head against Emily’s shoulder.

‘Okay. Do you want to talk now, or just stay here?’

Barely more than a whisper. ‘Talk.’

‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you mean when you said your coach almost killed you?’

JJ stiffened, her entire body tensing against Emily’s. She took a deep breath before beginning to speak. ‘I was 17, and got the flu just before a game. I had a fever of 102°. But missing a practice, let alone a game, as a captain was grounds for dismissal from the team. So I went. I almost passed out just walking to the field, so I swallowed my pride and asked to sit out.’

She paused, closing her eyes against the memory.

‘I stumbled out there, and he said to me,’

‘Are you serious? I trained you for years! Years! I made you everything you are, everything you will be, and you ask to sit out? How do you think that looks for me? My best senior, on the bench in the postseason? Not a chance! Get moving, girl. Three laps for your attitude, then practice.’

JJ had caught one word in five of his tirade through the pounding in her head. The tylenol the nurse had given her was wearing off, and she didn’t think making even one lap around the field was a possibility. She’d paused too long though, and a hand between her shoulder blades had her on the ground, facedown in the damp turf.

‘That’s four laps now, lazy. Get to it.’

JJ pulled herself up slowly, waiting for the world to stop spinning, then started a miserable jog around the field, barely upright. Pain, she was used to that. But this was different, a loss of ability, coordination, senses. Just three more laps, just two more laps, just-

‘I didn’t know I’d passed out until I woke up in the ER. I was left on the ground until practice was over. I was hypothermic and my temperature had spiked to 104°, but as far as Coach was concerned, I was useless.’

Emily was silent for so long JJ pulled back, turning her head up to look at Emily, hoping she hadn’t just ruined...well, everything. But Emily was staring down at her, mouth slightly open. ‘Sweetheart...I don’t know what to say.’

JJ didn’t answer, so Emily pulled her onto her lap, tucking the blonde’s head against her chest, wrapping her arms around her. ‘Shhhh, hey, I’m here. I have you.’

JJ nodded, staying where she was. ‘Do you understand now?’

‘Yeah. At least better than I did.’ Emily turned to look at her. ‘You lived like that for four years?’

‘Four years, year-round. We had an indoor rec league and spring games too. I saw him more than I saw my mother.’

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘Because that’s normal! He wasn’t out of the ordinary at all for what he did, and it made us better players.’

‘I can assure you none of that made you a better player.’

‘It made me stronger.’

‘You’re repeating something he said, aren’t you.’

‘Yeah. I don’t know what else to say.’

‘What else happened?’

Emily waited a minute before JJ answered, her voice flat and detached.

‘He kept us on the field for as many as six hours, running almost the whole time. We were to attend practice no matter what, sick, injured, sister had just died, whatever. We would bleed through our cleats from blisters. When I got home every night, I would have to soak my socks and uniform to make sure my mother didn’t see the bloodstains. I played concussed and on stress fractures for two years, almost all without any access to medical care, because that would mean I had to sit out, and I couldn’t do that. On weekends we played dawn til dusk, before and after our games, with laps if we weren’t performing well enough. I wanted to quit so badly, but I had no other way out, and he knew that. For all of us.’

‘How could he do that? You were a child!’

‘We were children, and had no idea what we’d gotten into. When you don’t know anything else...I didn’t even know something was wrong with what he did until I graduated college.’

‘My god...JJ, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?’

‘I really, really don’t like talking about it, and I was hoping you’d trust me enough I wouldn’t have to.’

‘I should have. I’m so, so sorry that happened to you, love.’

JJ nodded, still curled against Emily. ‘I can’t let that happen to Ellie.’

Emily kissed her hair, pulling her closer. ‘No. We won’t let that happen. But, if there’s a rec league, or maybe a travel team around here...she really does want to play.’

JJ paused. ‘I think I could handle that, if she had a different coach. I want her to be happy, but I-I can’t have her near that man.’

‘I understand. We’ll figure it out, okay?’

‘Okay.’

They stayed like that for a while, until JJ’s phone buzzed with a text from Garcia. Emily opened it with a sigh. ‘You’ll never guess what this says...’

JJ groaned. ‘We have a case?’

‘Four dead in Providence, Rhode Island. Hotch wants us there ASAP.

‘Of course he does. I’ll call my mom to get Ellie.’

Emily groused into the hall the grab the keys. ‘They really can’t give us a day off, huh?’

‘Oh, where else would you get your adrenaline if not from chasing down the scum of the earth?’

‘We’re going to be chasing down a teenage daughter soon, I think that should about cover it.’

JJ grinned. ‘You have a point.’

Emily smirked back. ‘I know.’

She turned just as she reached the door, reaching for JJ’s hand. ‘I love you.’

JJ took it. ‘I love you too.’

#fun fact! nothing i have tossed into jj's backstory is something i haven't seen or personally experienced over 4 years of hs varsity sports #so if you think 'this is barbaric! how could you come up with this??' just remember that i did not in fact make this shit up #have i had some coaches who were worse than the norm? yes #were those coaches worse bc we had a reputation for winning? also yes #have i dealt with a lot of this shit? also also yes #second impact

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xlady-saya · 5 years ago

Text

I want this touch to be familiar [Ch. 4]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It’s not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil’s hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he’s forced to acknowledge how much he’s allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

The second time they try is perhaps worse than the first, in that the interruption doesn't come from either of them.

Part of Andrew, the small part which sometimes wonders if there is some eternal being running the show, would love nothing more than to fight them for making his life like this.

It's even more irritating because the second time, he's ready. He's more than ready.

He's burning.

Andrew slams the door to their dorm room shut so hard the wall shakes. His free hand, the one not tangled in Neil's hair, locks it without a second thought. The sound of it clicking into place is like a starting gun, telling him they're alone, it's just them.

He can do whatever he wants.

He expects his hands to be clammy, unsure, but he hasn't moved with so much purpose in a long time, and certainly not for his own benefit.

Neil's breathy laugh is quickly turned into a gasp when Andrew locks their lips together, the desperate smacks bouncing off the walls. Kissing shouldn't feel this mind-blowing; Andrew's done it thousands of times, but when Neil moans into his mouth, it coaxes out all of Andrew's primal urges. The striker pins his tongue down, guides Andrew's hands to the curve of his back, telling Andrew to take. He growls against Neil's lips for the trick, but gives in anyway. Neil is just too much, offered willingly, wantonly.

He grabs handfuls of Neil's ass, pulling him flush to his body, showing off his strength. The cotton leggings are soft, thin, and Andrew pulls at the fabric to stretch it. He's been building up to this since this morning, when he watched Neil slowly pull the offensive pants over the curve of his ass.

Class afterwards had been interesting.

Andrew pulls Neil up a little higher; the striker's feet don't touch the floor, held completely. It's what Neil likes, though he's never said it. He knows Andrew can hold him up, dependable.

Neil doesn't even startle, just throws his head back from the promise of it. A mess already, both of them.

This time, there's no question about it. Andrew is rock hard in his jeans, trying not to hump Neil's leg for friction. There's more he wants to do, more they've been waiting to do.

Andrew's mind runs a mile a minute, but not with second guessing or caution from before.

It's clear, his mind is so clear. The desire to take is there, but there's no guilt or shame with it. Because Neil wants it, Neil's going to give. Andrew only feels pure, unsullied longing.

He acts on it, before it has the chance to leave him again.

He slams Neil against the wall, and the striker moans, like he's grateful for it. Strong legs wrap around Andrew's back after a rushed yes, pulling him impossibly close. He wonders if Neil is really afraid of Andrew leaving him in this state; it would be a sight to see Neil whining like that...

Neil's practically vibrating with excitement, rutting forward already as he kicks off his shoes. The clatter of them behind him sends Andrew's heart rate into a frenzy, it's nearly unacceptable.

He doesn't have time to correct it, when Neil looks like this. He can only feel want. The blue in Neil's eyes is wiped out, and Andrew wants to trace the scars on his face, flushed from their exertion.

Neil has other ideas; his shaking hands paw at Andrew's jacket, willing it off, and Andrew nearly smirks. He can't though, because he's just as bad right then.

He pulls Neil's hoodie off, ruffling his hair, and his hands are everywhere after that. He presses them along Neil's ribs, his collar bones, stopping to roll one of his nipples between his fingers. Neil keens from the attention, but his lidded eyes find the bulge in Andrew's pants quickly. Neil never likes to be the only one feeling good, not these days, when Andrew so willingly lets him reciprocate. "Andrew, I want--"

Andrew silences him with a harsh kiss, pinching the nub between his fingers.

Neil almost looks offended when Andrew moves away, but then his eyes widen, pulled into submission by Andrew's low tone.

If Andrew ever does admit he likes Neil's legs, it'll be the day Neil has to admit he has a thing for Andrew's voice.

"I know what you want," Andrew states, a vow. Right then, Neil wants to be taken apart, but more than that...

He wants to share this, finally, after all their talking and the memory of their first attempt. They're going to try again, and for once the possibility of failure isn't nearly as daunting. No matter what...

"It always feels good, when we lose control."

Andrew forces himself to think for a moment, his hands reaching back down to cup Neil's thighs. He can't help but squeeze, and a little gentler, Andrew lifts Neil to move them to the bed. As tempting as wall sex might sound in his head, this is still their first time.

No discomfort, no navigating more than they have to.

Neil seems to understand this, and goes slack in Andrew's arms, mouthing at his neck lazily.

The air in the room feels frantic, but it doesn't stop the wave of calm that hits them both. Andrew sets Neil down, and the striker's body creates space for him, pulling him forward so they're locked together. There's a pause as Neil falls onto his back, an infinite moment locked away in the second their eyes meet.

Neil's attempt to fight off a smile is pathetic, and he taps the side of Andrew's face by his eye. There's no blood or bruising there this time. It's as if to test Andrew is real, that this is happening.

Andrew breathes in shakily at the feeling which hits him, not knowing where to place it. The spectrum of emotions was locked away for so long, but this...he doesn't think it would be easy to place in any situation.

He's reluctant to pull away, but Neil only squirms excitedly when he does. He knows. Andrew grabs the book bag at the foot of the bed, emptying it haphazardly. The condoms fall on top of Neil, and Andrew swallows around the lump in his throat. It's terrible, what the sight does to him, like he's some teenage boy. Neil takes it in stride though, grabbing one and eyeing the reflective packaging with intensity.

So easy to read in moments like this.

Neil holds one of the condoms in front of his face, eyeing Andrew teasingly, like he can hear his thoughts. It's annoying, but it doesn't stop the traitorous part of Andrew from wondering how many of these they'd be able to go through...

"You can see me this time," Neil breathes, and Andrew stills. It’s a throwaway statement to anyone else, unnecessary, clunky. It relieves any last dredges of tension Andrew might have.

Oh, he can see alright. Neil is on his back, in front of Andrew, no room to miss the yearning or lust in his features. The striker brushes his bangs aside, like they're obstructive, and the feeling from before overflows back in Andrew's chest. Neil is so giddy about it, and the softness in the words threatens to choke Andrew. He grabs Neil's face with both hands, like he almost can't believe it.

They're not making the same mistake, it won't be like last time.

"I can," he echoes, not knowing what else he can do. This is troublesome he knows, the fact something so ridiculous can make him feel at ease. He searches his mind for hesitation, for any reason to not do this. He’s not able to stop, it's in his nature to look for the snag, but he finds none.

So he moves forward.

Andrew's hips slot against Neil's ass, and he feels the striker's entire body shiver. With a glare, he tugs at the fabric of Neil's leggings, ruined by his eager hands.

Whoever bought Neil these things can die. They're stirrup leggings, the dark fabric stretching down past his ankles to hook around his feet. They match Neil's new style of armbands, the ones that snake a little further down his arm's than Andrew's.

Allison is the most likely culprit he realizes, since the coordination was obviously made with some care.

She's going to pay.

"You like them," Neil states, a fact. He wears them on purpose, they both know it, like how Andrew started wearing more tank tops to the gym.

Despite that, he pinches Neil's thigh, relishing in the jolt.

"Admit you wear them just to be a nuisance," Andrew dodges the admission, as if it helps.

Neil's grin proves it. "When you admit you like how they make my ass look."

But well, that will never happen. Andrew sees no point in admitting the obvious.

He slides his hands over the fabric leisurely, hooking his fingers into the waistband. It's almost a shame he's two seconds from ripping the damn things to shreds if only to get Neil naked faster. Andrew's fingers twitch at the promise, and he sees the moment Neil sits up in anticipation for it. He knows what comes next.

Greedy, aren't we?

"Can we--" Neil starts, and his pants aren't even off.

"Yes Neil," Andrew sighs, as if it's a chore for him. He pushes the leggings and Neil's underwear down in one fluid movement, quick enough to make Neil gasp. It's a direct contradiction to his bored tone, he knows, but Neil likes it. "I'm going to fuck you with my fingers."

Neil's pupils dilate like a starving animal. Andrew regards him with a raised eyebrow; when he'd first suspected Neil would love the feeling of Andrew's fingers inside him, he hadn't anticipated how much. In the days since their first try, it's been the preferred way to get off. He can't judge Neil, when Andrew had been curious to experiment with it anyways. He’s not sick of it, making Neil come untouched, watching him writhe and push against Andrew's hand. Neil's never been shameless when it comes to those things. It’s especially apparent now that there’s no death sentence over his head. Plus, Andrew won't exploit his weaknesses.

So, when Neil enjoys something, he enjoys it for all it's worth. Andrew's pretty sure the shape of his fingers is imprinted inside Neil at this point, with how ridiculous they've been about it.

Briefly, Andrew wonders if after they go through with this his sex drive will finally calm down. It would make sense.

Right now though, his mind always circles back around to it. How to feel good, how to make Neil feel better.

Andrew presses down on Neil's perineum, watching Neil tense up with want. "You'll have to be good and not come this time though," he reminds, breathing the words into Neil's warm skin.

He'd rather not overstimulate Neil to that extent, though it's an intriguing thought.

With a huff of a laugh, Neil presses his foot down on Andrew's thigh, near where his cock strains in his jeans. "The same to you."

Andrew can't wait anymore.

"Be useful," he says, pushing the condom back into Neil's hands while he finds the bottle of lube.

"Jerk," Neil says without any heat, but he doesn't go to tear the condom open. That's the thing with Neil, if he's fixated on something he can't move on. His hand hovers over Andrew's groin, questioning. "Andrew--"

"Yes," Andrew growls, and Neil continues to surprise him with how fast he can move.

Neil flings Andrew's belt to the floor, and his pants are down before he can revel in the relief of it. He winces from the cool air on his cock, his body grateful.

Neil is so considerate of Andrew's needs it's infuriating, and yet Andrew's body reacts so well for him.

Neil slides a pillow underneath himself, too eager, but Andrew realizes he's already scooting forward with need.

And still, there's nothing wrong, nothing in the air telling him to stop.

There's just...them.

Neil seems to sense this too, even as Andrew's fingers pause at his entrance, intent clear. He brings Andrew lower, so he can feel all his body heat, the ghost of what's to come.

Weight, heat, fullness.

They stop, breathe, take each other in. Neil's eyes are...Andrew doesn't have a word for them. He should be upset, and yet he can't find the emotion. It doesn't apply.

Neil takes the bottle from Andrew's hand and uncaps it, tongue sliding over his kiss swollen lips. "Okay?"

He can't sound this wrecked already. And what kind of question is that?

Andrew glares, and then kisses him, unable to help it. "Yes," he says, and a few seconds later he presses two coated fingers into Neil's body, refusing to ignore the way Neil's legs spread for him, impatient.

"Fuck," Neil moans, drawing the syllables out like he can't believe how good it is. He clenches around Andrew's fingers, hand tightening on his shoulder. Andrew's cock leaks a little at the way Neil's hips twitch, and he wants to suck a mark into the bone, dig his thumb into it...

Neil's so damn hot inside. As if feeling Andrew' control slipping, Neil reaches down to pump at his cock, smearing the precum on the shaft. Neil throws his head back with another curse, reaching for the condom and tearing it open. Andrew's mind goes haywire, letting Neil sit up to slide the condom on.

Yes, Andrew's mind yells, beats against his skull. The swarm from before is back, like they've been lurking, waiting to finally get what they wanted from the start.

Andrew pulls his fingers out; they've been doing this enough, Neil's already stretched, Andrew can slide right in and--

There's a loud thump on the door, like the sound of a gunshot. They both lock up, the bubble around them violently popped. Andrew's thoughts come to a screeching halt, the swarm stilling.

They react instantly, the product of paranoia from different outlets. It's disgusting how predictable they are; Andrew's first instinct is to cover Neil's body with his own, a shield from the threat. The knives in his armbands feel extra heavy, calling him. In the same vein, Neil shoots up, as if to push Andrew away from the line of fire.

The need to protect, to guard what's theirs.

The illusion of danger is quickly shattered though, when they hear Kevin's voice. "Guys! Why is the door locked? You better not be doing anything! We're supposed to be at the court!"

The knob of the room rattles obnoxiously, like Kevin might actually break it. Neil's brow furrows as he looks over at Andrew, as if to ask if he's hearing right. It's Kevin; not a madman, or a mafia gangster. Kevin. They both share a look of realization, one that quickly dissolves into a glare. Neil's expression goes from shock to pure, unadulterated annoyance.

"Fuck off Day!" Andrew barks, shocked by his own tone. Kevin balks from behind the door, and Andrew curses himself. He hates when he gives too much away of how he actually feels, even though he's been working through that. The urge to appear uncaring would usually still be a crutch he falls back on, but in this case it doesn't stand a chance.

He's pissed.

Neil is naked in his arms, two seconds away from being fucked into the mattress, and Andrew does not like being interrupted.

But it isn't that Kevin is stupid, he's simply that much of a perfectionist with a hardhead. Like always, he steamrolls through the clear warning with another harsh knock. "Fuck no, Andrew you told me you'd drive me tonight! You gave me your word!"

Neil makes a small choking noise when Andrew tenses.

Shit, Andrew did say that. His memory now finds it appropriate to remind him of the promise, as well as the time of day. He knew he had to take Kevin to practice in the evening because of how much the other kept complaining about their stats, but he’d also planned for this alone time with Neil. He'd lost track of time.

Andrew never loses track of time.

"No," Neil whines, falling onto his back with a huff. Andrew's not sure if he's talking about the situation or Kevin's whole existence. Andrew's not sure he's ever in the history of knowing Neil seen him look so upset about the prospect of playing exy.

It's unheard of, and doesn't help the erection still leaking onto the bed.

Andrew can't move, his mind and body in a stalemate. He can't kill Kevin, that's off the table. He gave his word, it's on him, but...

"Let's go," Kevin yells with a final bang of his fist, his footsteps stomping down the hallway with an air of royal decree. Finality.

Dread creeps into Andrew's veins, and he looks down at Neil to see the feeling reflected in his actual expression. Neil doesn't cry, at least he hasn't let himself yet, not even after Baltimore. But ...he's upset. Those blue eyes waver a little, throwing his head back in restlessness.

Andrew wants to scold him for being so dramatic, tell him it's not a big deal, but the words wouldn't be genuine.

Andrew hates this.

Neil whimpers, but even Andrew can see he knows. He knows they have to go. Neil clings to Andrew's forearms a little tighter, as if grounding himself in the moment, cherishing the last few seconds of it.

Andrew has never wanted to stay somewhere so bad before; Neil's arms are a death sentence he realizes, because he'd waste away here without a second thought.

Neil's legs tremble from the excitement still coursing through him, and Andrew lets a grunt slip when he feels the striker's ankles knock against his back.

He can't handle it. He won't be able to go.

"Andrew..." Neil whispers, and Andrew leans down in a split second to press his forehead against Neil's. It's a firm touch, almost harsh. A warning. The silver cigarette around his neck hangs down, lingering over Neil's throat.

"Don't," Andrew snaps, swallowing around the anger. He closes his eyes; Neil's are too intense, too strong right then. Calling him, lulling him. He inhales sharply, another mistake. All his senses react to Neil. "Don't do that."

I can't stop myself when you do.

Neil shivers; it's the opposite of Andrew's usual 'stay.' Because they can't, Andrew can't be tempted to. They sit there for another few seconds, unwilling to move, unable to touch more for fear of falling back into it.

Andrew nearly growls as he pulls himself away harshly, trudging towards the bathroom to try and get rid of his problem.

Behind him, he hears Neil throw a pillow to the floor. "Goddammit."

They're especially brutal at night practice.

Andrew can't resist playing; he denies every single one of Kevin's shots to the goal, and sends them far down the court each time. Kevin's practically drenched in sweat from how much Andrew is making him run, but it's not the only retribution he's receiving.

Neil is fast, faster than Kevin when he wants to be, and he intercepts every shot he can. It's a coordinated attack; they're not letting Kevin have the ball if they can help it.

For how peeved they both are, it doesn't feel like enough. Andrew isn't supposed to believe in revenge, but this isn't it he reassures himself.

It's simply justice.

Kevin curses loudly when one of Andrew's returns nearly clips his ankle. Andrew doesn't think he's ever been this ruthless at a practice, and Neil rebounds a ball a little too close to Kevin's head about five minutes later.

Andrew tries not to get too distracted by Neil's stupid determination, or his panting.

Panting. Because of exy, because they're at the court and not in bed.

Andrew's next shot rings like a bullet against the plexiglass.

By the end of it, they're all exhausted, but Kevin can barely walk. All that Raven training, for what again?

Andrew glares at him as he takes off his helmet, and oh, as if the night couldn't get more aggravating.

Kevin smiles like an idiot. "See? If you guys practiced like this all the time, we'd be unstoppable!"

Silence descends over the stadium, and Andrew is all too happy to break it before he breaks something else.

He throws his racquet on the floor, much to Kevin's horror, and stomps back to the locker room with Neil close behind.

Later that week, they have their usual lunch with Katelyn and Aaron. It's not normally a chatty affair on his end, Katelyn tends to take up most of it, filling Neil in on things and instigating petty arguments between him and Aaron.

She'll never admit she does it, Andrew figured it out. He's not about to comment on Katelyn being an instigator, since that's exactly what Neil is.

Neil. Andrew grits his teeth at the dangerous train of thought, even with the striker right next to him. Neil is usually pressed against him when they sit together, but today there's a noticeable gap.

Intentional. Probably smart considering how wound up they are.

Andrew, to channel the itch in his veins, has been assembling a card tower for the past ten minutes. He's not sure if Neil is fixating so hard on him because he's impressed, or because he's imagining what other things Andrew's hands can do. Could be doing.

Either way, Andrew almost has four levels.

"Hand me another deck," he grumbles, and Neil smiles, already having opened the next one. Their fingers brush, and an urge spikes that's entirely removed from sex. Holding Neil's hand has become routine too, something to stabilize him, and he craves it. Right then, he’d probably break his fingers though, with how coiled he is, so best to not.

Andrew holds his breath and adds a card. The tower wavers.

Katelyn's chatter is missing, unheard of. The slow slurp of her soda is the only thing audible, grating on Andrew. He wonders if she knows it is. Her stare burns; Andrew doesn't dare look at her, though he's sure she's being so analytical because she's noticed how Aaron is staring at them.

Ah yes, it seems his twin is being observational today. He should really save it for his science classes.

The gaze is shifty, suspecting, and it's setting Andrew on edge by the second. His brother is so obvious, but Andrew can't pinpoint why. When he flicks his gaze up to his twin's, the curiosity too much, Aaron's eyes squint rather than dart away. Like he knows something.

But he can't, right?

Even if he did, there's no way he would bring it up. They have a silent agreement to never mention their sex lives after the time they ran into each other at the school convenience store in the condom aisle, looked at each other, and promptly walked away.

So yes, Aaron will keep his mouth shut to keep the peace, but Andrew still can't remember when he agreed to be this easily read.

Andrew returns to his cards, convinced that's the end of it. Neil starts to squirm beside him again, and Andrew resists rolling his eyes. He's already had to squeeze Neil's thigh three times to get him to stop.

Neil keeps his lips pressed together, keeping that mouth under control, a rare event.

It's a short-lived relief.

"Well, you two are antsy."

The whole table tenses, and Aaron wheezes.

The tower in front of Andrew crashes down, poetic, and he scowls at the remains of the battlefield.

Oh, right. Ignoring Katelyn's existence is starting to be a mistake, since she can be just as blunt as Neil. At the most random times too. The difference is with her it's often an accident, and it's followed up by strings of apologies reinforced by a sheltered suburban childhood.

Neil just doesn't give a fuck.

On cue, Katelyn blushes up to her ears, choking on her cola and waving her hands in front of her face. "No omg, I didn't mean--I'm so sorry!"

But well, too late.

Aaron strides on in spite of his girlfriend's muttering, seemingly set on taking advantage of the broken ice. Andrew looks around; he can't use his knives on his brother but all he has after that is a plastic spork.

Aaron leans forward on his elbows, like he always does when he's about to tell Andrew something potentially troublesome. It's more common now, since they actually talk about things, but it puts Andrew on alert anyways. This is not Bee’s office.

"Yeah..." Aaron muses, glancing between Neil and Andrew slowly. "Are you guys...fighting?"

And it's not said in concern, or disbelief, which makes Andrew suspicious from the get go. Aaron poses the question like it's one of a few possibilities, like he's narrowing Andrew's mood down like a multiple choice question.

Like he's seen this before.

Andrew glares at him before turning to Neil, a silent exchange. Neil's expression is akin to a shrug; great, he has no idea.

The confusion between them is palpable, but it's Neil who finally turns back to Aaron with a raised brow. "No? Why would we be?" Neil asks, and well...there's a lot of things they could've expected.

None of them match the reaction they actually get.

Aaron retches instantly, startling even Katelyn. She jumps in her seat, watching Aaron double over.

"Ah gross," Aaron says with his head in his hands, scowling at them a second later. "This is some weird sex thing. Go away."

Neil blanches at the same time Katelyn sputters, but Andrew keeps his face impassive. He won't give his brother the satisfaction of knowing he's right, but the fact he is makes Andrew even more annoyed than before.

"How--" Neil says, because why would he deny it like any other person? Andrew needs to push the whole table off a cliff. Neil really needs to sharpen up his lying skills too, if he's going to expose them like this.

Katelyn better watch her back too; the twins are not in the business of being this close. He will give it to Aaron though, he rendered Neil speechless. A true feat.

Andrew stares at Aaron, who scowls back, a standoff. These four second fights are becoming normal too.

There's a steady agreement reached in those four precious seconds: let's pretend this never happened.

The condom aisle all over again.

Aaron pushes his tray away, grabbing Katelyn's hand. "No way am I explaining how I know, you guys always do this! I hate you..."

And yes, Andrew's had enough. He steadfastly ignores Aaron's statement that he ever shows this much too. He doesn't. "Eat shit and die."

"Don't mind if I do!"

"...."

Katelyn's face twists in confusion, but recovers long enough to wave at Neil, oblivious to it all. She's an enigma. She must be somewhat strong too, because she resists Aaron's tug for a few seconds. It's like he's trying to pull a boulder with dental floss.

Social etiquette is a hell of a drug.

"We'll just...leave you guys to it, have fun!" Katelyn says, and Aaron retches again from behind her. Andrew really has to do it, he realizes. He has to kill them both. Katelyn's face turns as red as a tomato, jaw opening and closing. "But not like...that way, or yes do? You deserve it!"

Andrew hates her.

"Babe..." Aaron whines behind her, probably wishing the Earth would swallow him up. Another thing they have in common on this fine day.

Katelyn smiles as she's dragged away, winking. "See you...someday!"

The whole thing is over and done in less than two minutes, and yes, Andrew was counting. He rubs his neck, expecting pain from the whiplash that was the conversation he was forced to endure.

He watches Aaron haul ass across campus from afar, and knows they'll be back playing video games together later that night.

It's the nature of things now.

Beside him, Neil bangs his head against the table with an anguished groan. He keeps his face hidden, but Andrew reaches forward to tug on his earlobe.

Drama queen.

"I hate them," Neil mutters, an echo of Andrew's thoughts. He can't see him, but he's sure Neil can feel his agreeing nod.

With a sigh, Andrew starts on a new card tower. "At least you're not related to one of them."

And well, Neil couldn't compete with that if he tried.

One of the traditions which stuck after Baltimore, and perhaps one of the only things Andrew let Neil dwell on, was the giant pile the foxes made around him the night after.

The impromptu sleepover had been one of the only times Andrew allowed himself to sleep so close to others, bordered on both sides. At the time, Neil had needed him more, and Andrew would've been next to him even if they were dangling over a ledge. His need to protect had been on the fritz, his heart unable to calm down at the thought of losing Neil, of letting him out of his sight ever again.

So naturally, his fear and distrust of others had been a non-issue. He hadn't had the space in his head to think about it. Plus, he isn't and never was afraid of the foxes.

Annoyed by them is another feeling entirely.

Once a month, Nicky makes them build a pillow fort in the common area and forces them to watch trashy movies. Aaron won't say no because Katelyn often comes, and the rest of them use it as an excuse to get drunk and rag on Nicky's tastes in films.

Neil stares at Andrew, Andrew tries not to stare back, and it ends up with them all passed out in varying positions, Neil squeezed next to Andrew as they hog the couch.

It's routine, as much as Andrew hates to admit it. He never meant to become so used to the gatherings, or attend them at all, but they've begun to grate on his nerves less.

Neil never misses a single one, and Andrew can't avoid it.

But, none of them are engineering majors, and therefore don't possess the architectural skills to make a long standing pillow fort. Andrew also refuses to help.

Therefore, the pieces of furniture they move around to make it work only end up creating fire hazards and traps for those who need to get up at any point to piss. Typically, they end up toppled over in a mess of sheets and pillows the next day, and stay there.

It's pathetic, really, like toddlers are behind it.

Currently, Andrew and Neil are lying down in the graveyard of blankets that was once their shitty tent. Andrew already knows it won't get cleaned up for days, not until one of them actually trips over something. Andrew's certainly not going to help with that either.

The other foxes must've had the same idea, since they're nowhere to be found.

'Well, I think it's time for brunch,' Allison had said before the rest of the hungover team followed her out.

Only Neil and Andrew decided to stay behind, on account of Neil's forgotten math homework he needed to get done.

Andrew really should've known.

He stares up at the ceiling, listening to the offbeat tap of Neil's pencil against his textbook. They're on Andrew's comforter, or maybe he should call it their comforter. They rarely sleep separately these days. Even the nights where Andrew needs the space, he'll wake up with an itch eventually, like something is off.

Perhaps that's why he feels this way right then; there's an untrustworthy feeling of calm. It's not something he ever liked in the past, because it was always followed by some kind of calamity, danger. Yet when he looks ahead, he finds nothing looming on the horizon. The sheets Matt taped to the walls block out the sun from the windows, and the calm only intensifies.

But, Neil is next to him, so it makes sense. He hates that it makes sense, and as steely as his memory is, he can't pinpoint when that happened.

It's fitting, that it would happen in a moment like this. It should also feel like a slap in the face, that with all their planning, all their anticipation, it would happen on a random, lazy afternoon, when the question isn't even in the air. It isn't even on their minds.

"I just think if there was an apocalypse math would come in handy," Neil says in the middle of their faux argument. Andrew won't admit to liking it, but he provokes Neil when he can, pokes and prods because it gets Neil's attention.

Not that Andrew needs Neil's attention...he's bored is all.

Insulting math is a sure fire way to get Neil in his teasing mood, sending them down a rabbit hole. All Andrew had said was that math was dumb, but now they're back on the zombie topic like it's second nature. They've fleshed it out so many times, yet there's never an unlimited amount of questions to be asked.

Last week they'd spent about thirty minutes debating on when survivors would run out of gasoline, and where the best sources would be.

Neil's smile is lazy as he rests his chin on his hand, waiting for Andrew to fire back.

Andrew leans over with sigh, put upon as he circles a random answer on Neil's homework. He doesn't get the problem, but he knows it's the wrong answer. He circles it in pen. "Neil, what did I say about trying to convince me about the pros of calculus?"

It's not going to happen.

Neil hums thoughtfully, and Andrew knows the striker's memory isn't that bad. "That if I did you'd kill me?"

Neil rests his head on his textbook, work momentarily forgotten, and has the nerve to wink.

Andrew throws the pen at him. "And yet..."

Honestly, even looking at all the numbers makes him want to gag.

Neil flops down onto his back, blowing his bangs out of his face. They need to be cut, Andrew realizes, and resists the urge to tie them back. He doesn't realize he's moving to see Neil's face more clearly until he's rolled over on his side, face above Neil's. It's their usual dance, one Andrew tries so hard to refrain from. A push and pull, so their jagged edges manage to fit together even under this failed fortress. Neil looks up at Andrew with that same cheeky grin. "That's such a you threat though, you won’t do it."

It's statements like that which will make Andrew actually go through with it one of these days.

He leans down with a glare, and the cigarette pendant around his neck hits Neil in the nose.

"Doubting me will be your downfall," Andrew reminds, and he can almost predict the moment Neil is going to bite his lip to suppress his smile. Goddamn Pavlovian response.

"You'd miss me too much," Neil states breezily, grabbing the necklace and fiddling with it. Neil's so confident about it now; Andrew remembers how in the past, he'd refrain from saying anything like that, unsure of how Andrew really felt, because Andrew wouldn't even admit it.

Sometimes he still can't, but the difference is...Neil knows.

Andrew scoffs, grabbing the math textbook Neil is using as a pillow and dangling it above their heads. Neil's head hits the floor and he yelps, eyes trained on his precious work. It's not a far reach, but Andrew's stronger than Neil, and he keeps it out of his grasp easily.

Neil flies up to lunge for it, fast as lightning, and Andrew keeps his shoulder pinned to the floor.

"H-hey!" Neil says through his laughter, and Andrew will give him credit, he tries hard. He just doesn't succeed. After failing to push up against Andrew's hold, Neil goes for the squirmy approach, wriggling enough that Andrew has to actually push some of his weight onto him to keep him down. He looks for any signs of discomfort, of panic; he knows Neil's history with being tied down, unable to run.

But, it's not a day clouded by bad memories. Neil only laughs harder in Andrew's bored face, twisting violently to reach for his shitty, overpriced textbook.

Neil doesn't even take care of the damn thing, the edges are frayed, pages falling out. It's nothing less than he deserves.

But not once does he tell Andrew to stop. Neil snorts, limbs flopping to the floor in a pathetic defeat. He's trying to scowl, but when Andrew is around, Neil's lying skills are null. Useless.

Giggles fade away into light huffs of breath, and Andrew quirks a brow. Neil's usually so stubborn, he wouldn't dare give up. Then again, maybe he's enjoying this.

Neil's eyes crinkle at the edges; for once, Andrew doesn't have to look away from the light in those eyes. Which...is strange. The urge to reject it, to push it away isn't there, not even swimming beneath the surface. It's more common nowadays, yes, but not any less suspicious. Andrew sifts for it, like an anchor, something familiar, and finds nothing. Like years and years of rust wore away the shackle, for the moment.

Neil seems to realize it too; his smile falls slowly, his chest heaving with the exertion.

Panting.

And oh, how predictable Andrew has become. It's not a good thing, he knows, but it's the grave he's chosen to lie in.

Neil's eyes bore into his, and their faces are a lot closer than Andrew realized. At some point, he must've moved. At some point, his body sought Neil out before his mind could catch up.

Isn't that interesting?

Interesting, not taxing. Alluring.

He used to hate that word, but never before has it sounded so fitting.

He watches Neil swallow, follows the bob of his adam's apple and the strong line of his jaw. Andrew scoots his hand up, tapping the beauty mark he knows is right behind Neil's ear, and those blue eyes catch fire, burning Andrew from the inside.

The dormant flame, the one that's been building for days, weeks, seems to finally meet kerosene.

He wants to kiss Neil. He wants to do more than kiss Neil.

He wants whatever Neil will give him. He wants to give Neil more than he ever thought he could.

It's a sudden, irresistible craving.

Neil's breath hitches, and his hand slides tentatively up Andrew's forearm, like he's dizzy despite lying down. Andrew's hips twitch just from that realization alone, from knowing he can affect Neil at the snap of his finger, trap them away from the rest of the world by pure feeling alone.

"Um..." Neil whispers, at a complete loss for words. The textbook falls from Andrew's hands; he doesn't care what happens to it, and neither does Neil in the moment.

Andrew's hand slides around the back of Neil's neck, cradling it, and the striker's pulse is like a rabbit's.

The only difference is, he's running right to Andrew.

"Um," he repeats, mockingly, and it's the last push Neil needs. He surges up at the same time Andrew crashes forward, their lips meeting for a kiss that sends Andrew's nerves into a frenzy.

It's all over for Neil's homework, after that.

Neil shoves his scratch paper and all his supplies away harshly, making room, and Andrew is on top of him in the next second.

It's not planned, Andrew realizes too late. They didn't plan this. This is not time he scheduled, carved out. Every movement is haphazard, limbs knocking into each other to try and fit right, their bodies never quite close enough. Neil's elbow hits the coffee table nearby at one point, and Andrew swallows his wince. The striker recovers instantly, so desperate for more.

Neil's a live wire, hiking up his own shirt before his train of thought zips somewhere else, and then he's tugging at Andrew's shirt, his belt, all silent pleas which scream at Andrew.

They're saying 'here' and 'more' and 'give me.'

For all the times Andrew has to tell Neil to stop fidgeting, now he has no room to.

Andrew breaks off the kiss messily, bumping his nose against Neil's cheek before pressing a firm kiss to his collarbone. He'd think his lips were searing from how Neil's body jumps from it, and Andrew lingers there long enough to feel the vibration from Neil's groan. But he's impatient.

Impatient. That's Neil's thing, not his, but Andrew has no reason to put an end to it.

"Yes, yes," Neil breathes, as if to reinforce that thought. Andrew kisses down the length of Neil's body; his chest, his abdomen, his hip, all firm and deep like he's trying to keep Neil from floating away.

Neil pulls lightly at Andrew's hair before cradling his face, guiding him back up for a kiss with zero aim. It's alright, there's no quota. No three strikes policy, his brain reminds him, stupidly. Neil huffs a laugh when Andrew kisses the side of Neil's lips on accident before planting one right on him. In fact, he does it twice to make up for it. Twice, three times...four...again...

"T-the door," Neil somehow manages to get out in between his moans, and oh, Andrew forgot.

What a plot twist; Neil's the one thinking ahead.

"Shit," Andrew mutters, glaring at the door and all who might dare to walk through it right then. He's not having a repeat of last time.

He gets up, or tries to. It's surprisingly a challenge with Neil there. Before Andrew can stand, the redhead pulls him down for another kiss, keeping him there. Only spite allows Andrew to actually get up, the desire to prove he's not that weak, even though Neil looks downright devastated when he's left alone on the floor for the .3 seconds it takes Andrew to lock them in.

Idiot.

Andrew not only locks the door, he uses the bolt too. If anyone wants into this dorm, they're going to have to break the damn thing down.

Neil is already waiting for him in the doorway to the bedroom when Andrew turns around. He moved fast, but Andrew can't comment on the eagerness. He hadn't even thought about moving to the bed.

But yes, doing it on the floor would've been a bad idea. Andrew tries not to think too much about how he probably would've continued no problem.

From how he pauses, it must be obvious. Neil quirks a brow, and one day Andrew's going to tell him to stop adopting his mannerisms without permission. "You can do me against other surfaces later."

Andrew doesn't dignify that with a response, but he takes it as the promise it is.

And, because Neil is the worst, he reaches out a hand for Andrew to take, knowing there's no other decision for him. No, there's no other decision he wants to make. Neil doesn't care what they do, as long as it's with Andrew.

The striker proves that again and again, and the clouded parts of Andrew always wait for that to shatter. But Neil doesn't expect too much of him; they mess up, they step back, but there's never another direction Andrew wants to walk in.

Nothing would stop him, at this point.

He has Neil in his lap on their bed in the next moment; he doesn't keep track of how it happened. From how Neil is keening, Andrew must've picked him up. So easy, Andrew thinks.

Neil isn't easy about anything but this; Andrew's strong hold, keeping him upright.

He practically melts in Andrew's arms, trying to wriggle closer. Andrew's never felt a good weight on him before Neil came into his life. It's addictive almost, the light pressure, the knowledge Neil will move away as soon as he needs to.

Sometimes, when Andrew really isn't in control of his thoughts, he thinks about shackling Neil to him, so they're both tied together. It's a stupid, selfish thought, and unnecessary too.

Doomed, he thinks. He should stop...he...

Neil's hands find Andrew's neck, because of course they do, and Andrew lets himself sigh into Neil's lips.

No, why the hell would he stop?

Neil eats up every noise Andrew gives him, a concession which is becoming more frequent, and the striker's hips start to roll slowly. Encouraging.

Andrew growls into the kiss, cupping the front of Neil's jeans to feel him twitch, hard for Andrew already. Neil breaks the kiss and throws his head back; possessively, Andrew wonders how many people on campus would kill to see Neil like this. And they never will.

Andrew pulls off Neil's shirt hastily, and the striker's hands are back on his neck, never satisfied. Andrew feels the chain around his neck move from Neil playing with it, twisting it around his lithe fingers as he strokes Andrew's skin. In an instant, Andrew has a moment of clarity.

'Get me one,' Neil had said. Andrew just might be able to now.

He pushes the thought away to reevaluate later when he's not trying to make Neil look spotted.

The hickies from a few days before aren't exactly faded, but Andrew makes them fresh anyways. That one guy from Katelyn's class has been staring at Neil again, and well, if Andrew's jacket isn't enough to relay the message...

"Ohh," Neil sighs when Andrew leaves another bruise on his collarbone, licking the sensitive skin gently.

This will have to do.

Andrew doesn't even realize he's taking his time until he's not. Neil's impatience reaches its limit, the lust in his eyes threatening to roll Andrew onto his back. It happened once before, Neil riding Andrew, clothes on.

It's something they'll have to explore again.

But, Andrew reads the room. He plops Neil off his lap and onto the bed, standing to rid himself of his shirt before moving to his jeans. This part is always a little slower; Neil has seen all of him, they've made out naked, showered together frequently, but it's still overwhelming for the first beat.

Neil's gaze is hungry though, jeans messily pulled down to his own thighs, right where the material has a hard time moving. The hesitation is wiped clean from the stare, but more so the fact Andrew wants his hands to be on Neil now.

He kicks aside his pants and underwear and has to jerk Neil's chin up to get him focused back on his face and not his cock. Neil glares, like he can sense the smirk behind Andrew's mask.

It'll be inside you soon, quit it.

Neil's clothes join his quickly on the floor. Andrew will deal with it later, maybe.

Neil slides down onto his back, and Andrew fits right against him, their cocks brushing on Neil's stomach.

"Fuck," Andrew grits out, and Neil shivers. Andrew strokes Neil firmly, from base to tip, smearing the precum wherever he can. He likes Neil like this, messy and unrestrained, so... "Good..."

So good for me.

Neil's eyes snap up to Andrew's, drunk on the small praise, ready for more, ready to do whatever it takes to get more. Neil's hands come up to grip Andrew's forearms, and for the first time in all their tries, the feeling of the fabric annoys Andrew.

He doesn't want them there. He wants the armbands gone. Off.

As if waiting for himself to rethink that, he stares at where Neil's hands are clenched in the fabric, trying to find the panic, the resistance.

"Andrew?" Neil whispers after the silence goes on too long, fingers uncurling. One step ahead, if he has to be. Technically he is, but for different reasons than usual.

Andrew peels his armbands off, setting them on the floor, scars on full display. Ugly, ruined things. A sign of his struggle, survival.

Things Neil understands all too well.

The redhead doesn't so much as flinch; eyes softening into something Andrew doesn't see from him any other time. Andrew has trusted him with this before, on the rare occasion, but Neil still treats it like a gift each time.

"I told you not to look at me like that," Andrew reminds, uselessly. The words ride the sound of their harsh breathing, pulled apart and drowned out like nothing.

Real, true nothing.

Not...

"I always look at you like this," Neil says, and he probably means it to be mocking. It doesn't carry.

"Can I?" Neil asks, but Andrew is already guiding Neil by the back of his neck, bringing his lips to kiss the scars firmly. Andrew doesn't move while he does; Neil is careful about it, never grazing his teeth or pressing too hard, but it's not enough to overwrite the bad memories completely.

It's a salve, at most, but that's more than Andrew had before.

Neil's fingers glide over the raised skin, his scarred forearms meeting Andrew's own. They are a pair, aren't they? Andrew doesn't believe people deserve anything, good or bad. There is simply reality.

Yet...knowing this is his...

"Neil," he says after a while, and Neil pulls back instantly, sighing. Andrew's fingers are kneading the back of his neck, just how Neil likes. He's run away from reality for so long, they both have. Now they're so deep in it, they can't leave.

So, Andrew will take all the parts of reality he never claimed before.

Andrew reaches over to fiddle with his bedside drawer, pulling out one of the foil packets. The striker in his arms jumps, hips twitching, and Andrew never feels like laughing but that look... Neil is ridiculous.

The redhead's eyes home in on the condom, right when Andrew speaks. He sounds breathless. "I need an answer still."

It's what matters most, even with Neil spread out naked beneath him, he needs it. Neil's stare slides over to Andrew, and it's unfair. Andrew has to close his eyes; a small sliver of panic runs through him, finally.

But it's not about sharing this, it's not about being exposed. It's a weird impulse to shield Neil away from everything, so nothing bad can ever happen to him again.

So nothing can take him away.

Because, how is Andrew supposed to move on from this? It's not a path he's let his mind go down, but he will at some point. Contingencies, back-up plans, to prepare for a day where Neil may be gone.

All plans that will fall devastatingly short.

"Yes," Neil whispers, and Andrew opens his eyes to see that smug smile, bringing him back to the moment like his crisis is null. Like Neil will never leave, and Andrew is a fool to think he'd be rid of him so easily. "Let's see what all the fuss is about."

Andrew does huff then, something akin to a laugh, and Neil's eyes brighten.

"I don't expect it to be any good," he says against Neil's lips, claiming them as he tears open the condom.

He feels Neil nod, pressed so close. The heat is back, the desperation, and Andrew's hips buck forward involuntarily at Neil's voice. "Mhm, probably terrible."

"Awful."

"We'll need a lot of practice..."

"Shut up Neil." Andrew slides the condom on and uncaps the lube. It should be quick now, he'll be buried inside Neil soon, especially because--

Neil spreads his legs, licking his lips at the sight of Andrew's cock between them. "I'm probably already stretched since...we--"

Andrew swipes his slick fingers against Neil's entrance, feels it already clench around nothing. Neil shudders in relief, humming from the promise of it. Andrew shakes his head. "We? You mean you always want to ride my fingers any chance you get."

He doesn't give Neil the chance to glare; he presses two fingers in, and Neil's body takes him so well, so smoothly. He avoids his prostate, if he even takes them there then Neil will beg for Andrew to just make him come like that, blissed out with nothing else on his mind. Not even exy.

"Don't you...always me---oh shit right there," Neil sighs, laughing because he doesn't know what else to do. Andrew wonders how intensely he feels it; he watches Neil's toes curl, his legs trying to find purchase. Andrew dutifully pins them to his side, knowing they'll eventually move.

Neil's legs are strong; last time, when they weren't careful, he kicked one out mid orgasm and broke the lamp by the couch.

They never told Nicky what happened to it.

"I will if it's the truth," Andrew says, and scissors Neil with three fingers just enough to ease his own mind. Not even Neil pushing back on him can calm the distress entirely. Andrew knows the feeling of his cock stretching Neil open will still be new, uncomfortable, but he'll be slow.

He won't get ahead of himself.

"It feels good," Neil states, surprisingly firm despite how wrecked he looks. There's a dreamy quality to his eyes, but the tone gets his attention. This is Neil, leaving no room for argument. "Andrew, I mean it. It all feels so good with you."

'Only you,' Neil had said, kicking his stupid legs back and forth all those months ago, like being with Andrew made him...happy. After so many things should've wiped that feeling out, torn it to shreds with blades like Neil's skin.

But no. Neil looks at him this way still, finds room to feel more and pushes Andrew to feel it too.

Neil will only ever share this with Andrew. As much as Andrew tries not to believe that deep down, because these things will eventually end in disappointment, it's slowly starting to carry the weight of a fact. A truth.

"You're staring," Neil says lightly, playful, and he's right.

Andrew glares at him, a silent admonition. Don't get too full of yourself.

"I'm waiting for something to be wrong," Andrew says, unable to help himself. It's the truth, part of it. He won't tell Neil all the unasked for revelations he's having, but that's the gist isn't it? He's waiting for this to be wrong, knowing it's impossible.

And instead of being shocked or offended, Neil just nods, kissing Andrew slow and deep. When he pulls away, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes is back. Andrew doesn't hope for much, but he hopes that stays. That way when Neil is old, he'll have wrinkles. It will be proof that Neil was able to grow old.

"And is there something wrong?" Neil asks, hand curving to the small of Andrew's back and never lower.

"No," Andrew answers, simply, honestly.

There's really not.

"Then get in me," Neil demands, not harshly, but laced with a wildness Andrew doesn't want to tame. He wants Neil to always be like this, desperate for his cock.

Andrew can't refuse.

He slicks himself up, pushes the tip against Neil's hole, and locks eyes with the striker. He wants to catalogue every moment of this. That way, he'll remember Neil when he can't remember anything else. He hopes that day comes.

With a stuttering breath, he pushes in. It's gradual, but not slow enough to delay things. That's what he wants to do, but he prioritizes what's better for Neil.

Already, Neil is trembling, panting cut off as he takes in the feeling of Andrew halfway deep in him.

"Breathe," Andrew snaps, grabbing the back of Neil's neck and squeezing. "Hey."

"I'm okay," Neil says, and it's shaky, breathy. His head lolls to the side, and there's a new smile on his face. It's no less stupid, but it sets Andrew's nerves on fire. He has to hold the sheets in the death grip to keep from thrusting forward, especially when Neil says--"I'm way more than okay."

Neil's expression is what Andrew would define as cloud nine, and thank fuck he knows Neil well enough to pin his hips down in the next second, because Neil tries to push himself all the way down on Andrew's cock.

Andrew doesn't care how much they've been messing around, Neil's trying to hurt himself doing that.

Or kill Andrew.

The movement makes him tremble, but he won't move, refuses to. Neil whines in protest, and Andrew understands the pause is mostly for himself to catch up with this new feeling. Neil's gonna have to deal with it.

It's Neil's fault anyways; Andrew brings the back of his hand to his mouth, reining in all of his urges. It's so fucking tight, the heat is unbearable in a way Andrew's never felt before. It's a separate kind of pleasure, all consuming, and paired with the knowledge it's Neil just threatens to send him over the edge.

He's inside of Neil, Neil's first, and Neil's body language is practically begging to be fucked. Neil's legs wrap around him, coaxing him, and dammit Andrew will not be the first to come here.

He risks looking down for the next part; Andrew takes a deep breath and pushes forward until his balls press flush against Neil's backside, and he chokes on the groan he tries to keep in. Neil's hole twitches around him, slick with lube and tinted pink. Andrew can't resist, he reaches down to trace the stretched rim, feeling Neil's squirm from it.

Andrew's not sure what prompted it, maybe pure disbelief. They're connected, Neil feels good. Neil--

"Oh my god, that's awesome," Neil says with a laugh, nearly on the edge of disbelief himself.

Andrew can't stand him. "Your dirty talk needs work," he says with a glare, and tries not to click his tongue from how strained he sounds. That perfect control, reservation...gone.

"I'm just being honest," Neil huffs, rolling his hips as best he can when Andrew still has them in a death grip.

Quit it.

All the little movements, the slightest shift...Andrew feels it so much, down his spine and through his legs. It should be terrifying, but there's an eagerness there instead.

"That's rare." Andrew's voice breaks off a bit at the end, barely detectable, but Neil moans shamelessly from it. He could probably get off just from Andrew's reactions alone.

"F-fuck," Neil sighs out, extra emphasis on the 'k' which sends Andrew's brain further into a spiral. He tries not to tremble when Neil's hands paw at his own abdomen, like he can't take the feeling, how intoxicating it is. "I'm going to come so fast, I'm sor--"

Neil never learned how to keep his apologies to himself.

And that's enough to make Andrew move; or so he tells himself, really he might just explode if he doesn't. He bucks forward gently, or as gentle as someone like him can manage, testing the waters.

That time, he groans, no chance of hiding it. It's swallowed up by Neil's gasp, and one of Andrew's hands buries itself on Neil's shoulder, grounding them both. The warmth...it's incredible.

"Idiot," Andrew says, and rolls his hips again. It's harder this time, channeling parts of his frustration. His balls slap against Neil's ass, loud in the small dorm room, and they both shiver. "Don't apologize."

Don't ever apologize when it's like this.

And to think, Andrew's pretty sure this must suck when put on the spectrum of good sex. He can't get enough.

"More Andrew, more," Neil breathes out, and Andrew starts to thrust in earnest. He'll listen to Neil, just this once.

The room quickly heats up; Andrew's body refuses to go more than a few seconds before swallowing Neil's moans in a searing kiss again and again. Their breath mixes, hot and frantic in the space between them. There isn't much. Neil's lips are like water, or maybe Andrew just needs to do this or he'll risk being just as loud as his boyfriend.

Andrew's thrusts are like a lot of things he does; precise, unrelenting. He's a fast learner too, maybe more so than Neil. He catalogues every yelp and moan that leaves Neil's mouth, familiarizes himself with what gets every specific little reaction.

If he presses down on Neil's stomach mid thrust, he gets a screaming 'yes,' if he pauses a little too much he gets a long and drawn out whine. Andrew doesn't usually study, but in this case he does so without complaint. In less than two minutes, he's made Neil work up a sweat, and Andrew's glad he has this now, a workout Neil would be all too happy to do. Andrew watches Neil's abdomen flex, and wants to lick every ridge of muscle.

There's almost too much to do and not enough time, the heat begins to coil in Andrew's groin, a warning. He...doesn't want it to be over.

"Holy shit, fuck yes, like that," Neil babbles, as harsh and cutting as his personality. Andrew takes all of it, unafraid of being sliced open. The enthusiastic consent keeps Andrew's demons at bay, but he knows they're not for his benefit.

Neil just can't keep his mouth fucking shut.

He pins down one of Neil's thighs to adjust the angle, making his skin wet with lube. Every push is slower, but powerful. It might just be that he can't get enough of being as deep as he can, seeing Neil's legs curl from how well he's being stretched.

Andrew bites off another moan before it can fully form, but Neil catches it with that same brightness in his eyes, like he has any room to talk when he's falling apart on Andrew's cock.

"You like it," the striker accuses, and Andrew hates having to repeat himself: stop stating the obvious.

"Do I?" Andrew responds, petulantly, and Neil smirks before clenching around Andrew's cock when he pushes in as deep as he can go. The groan he lets out has Neil's pupils eating up the remaining sliver of blue. Darkness, a void, but Andrew has never felt more alive staring into them.

"You're the worst," Andrew growls, snapping his hips to make Neil yelp. See, right there, that's what I mean. "So mouthy."

"Get me to shut up," Neil says with a laugh, like he can't wait.

Andrew freezes, looks up at Neil to make sure he heard right. And yes, Neil is staring right at him, challenging and soft at once. He caught it, he caught it no matter how Andrew tried to hide it.

The slowness, the oh so subtle way he held himself back.

Even now, even like this.

"Fuck me Andrew," Neil begs, hands fisting in the sheets by his head. "You're supposed to fuck me until it's all I can think about."

Andrew hears the words buried beneath: 'I can take all of you.' There's provocation too, an understanding that Andrew never goes back on his word.

This time, he's glad for it.

He leans down to bite at Neil's ear lightly, pushing himself in deeper before rocking forward. And, because Andrew is so used to being the conductor of Neil's body, he kisses him right when his mouth falls open. Exactly on cue.

"Tell me how it feels," Andrew says as he pistons forward, so close, too close. He doesn't care how gone he sounds, how out of breath and delirious. He needs to hear it.

Neil grunts after a particularly rough thrust. "I...it's--"

Andrew's movements are frenzied, not as precise as before, but this time he's allowing himself something. He's chasing his own end, without guilt, the edges of his vision already starting to white out from the heightening pleasure. Selfish, but Neil's wrecked moan is far from displeased.

"No words?" Andrew mocks. "You must like it."

Neil's legs wrap tight around his back, pushing him closer, and Neil's hands come up to push Andrew's sweaty bangs out of the way. "So deep, c'mon Andrew..."

And he does c'mon. His thighs meet Neil's in rapid succession, his pace spiking. Neil's ass, as much as Andrew hates it, is perfect and soft. It cushions every thrust, Andrew can feel it squeeze and tighten.

It's almost a shame he can't see Neil from the back...one day.

"Shit," Neil grabs his own hair, throwing his head back as he leans up on his elbows, trying to meet every one of Andrew's movements. There's no finesse; it is their first time, truly. They meet out of sync more often than not, but it's hectic, drenched in want. "Yes, yes, yes."

It's more addictive than smoke, than sugar.

"Come for me Neil," Andrew commands, grip tight on the back of Neil's neck, the pressure too much, unbelievable. He finally grabs Neil's cock, leaking obscenely between them and swollen at the tip. He pumps him mercilessly, firm, the way Neil likes it. "Let me feel it."

He wants every aspect of this burned into his memory, forever. As much as his eyes want to flutter shut, to bask in his orgasm, he wants to see Neil come undone.

He does, and Andrew doesn't assign the term 'beautiful' to anything. It's throwaway, and meaningless. But...Neil is a sight.

The striker's orgasm hits him like a speeding train; his hips stutter, and the sound he makes probably hurts his throat with how it tears through the air. Andrew watches, enraptured, as Neil turns over, body involuntarily twitching and curling in on itself. His stomach is a mess. Neil's cum lands high, dripping on his torso, and it's a shame Andrew has no time to lick it up in the moment.

Neil's thighs begin to shake from the intensity of his orgasm; he's not sure he's ever seen Neil come so hard. Certainly not enough for this, for his legs to tremble like he forgot how to move them; Andrew pins Neil's legs down, and Neil doesn't panic. He knows it's Andrew, and besides, he's too far gone. Andrew basks in the vibrations he can feel, uncontrolled, unrestrained.

And then, then Neil has the nerve to smile, completely blissed out of his mind.

It undoes him.

He thrusts forward twice more; they're stuttering, shaky movements, and then he's spilling into the condom. Andrew buries his moan in Neil's neck, muffled but still louder than he's ever allowed in the past.

'All the fuss' Neil had said. Andrew hates agreeing with others, but...he understands. He shares this with Neil often, coming apart down Neil's throat or in his hand, but this orgasm is a tidal wave. It's immensely satisfying, knowing he's inside Neil when it happens, that they're as connected as they can be. Andrew rocks forward over and over again, milking the feeling for all it's worth until he's too sensitive to move.

His stomach jumps, like he was dropped from one of those terrible amusement park rides, except he thinks this feeling is one he'd chase again.

Neil's body melts beneath him, muscles relaxing with a pleased hum. It's only then Andrew is aware of how loud their breathing is, filling the room. He wonders how it can all be contained. Space is a funny thing. He always required too much of it, an excess.

In fact right then, he anticipates the feeling. He's coming down, nerves simmering with the lingering heat, and his brain is foggy. Any moment now, he will need to break this quiet calm. He clings to it, until he can't.

He slides out of Neil with a shiver, tying off the condom and throwing it in the nearby bin. Neil whimpers from the separation, and Andrew's heartbeat jolts.

He's getting predictable, but he can't take his eyes off Neil. Neil, who is barely starting to blink away the post-orgasm haze in his mind. Andrew can track it, the moment Neil sees Andrew, and understands that it's over.

His legs are still--

"Shaking," Andrew comments, his hand gliding over Neil's inner thigh. The vibrations answer back, and Neil sighs from the touch. Andrew's heart reacts again, and it's familiar. He knows he's felt this before...

A heat, one that won't go away. Neil sits up, and Andrew scoots forward, unwilling to let Neil go too far from him. Like he's still craving, still--

"Yeah..." Neil whispers, hand resting on top of Andrew's. The redhead laughs at how his own body trembles, but there's a flash of insecurity in those dark eyes.

A consequence of Neil's lack of inexperience, he sometimes doesn't know if his reactions are normal, acceptable. Like Andrew won't be replaying this in his head for days, weeks.

"That's new," Andrew says, and he feels so stupid about it. He should be asking if Neil is okay, checking him over for injuries, making sure that haze in his eyes isn't some horrible predecessor to something else, because surely Andrew went too far, and--

"Can't...can't help it," Neil says with a laugh, and that damn smile. Andrew's muscles twitch, his mind halting in its initial terror. Neil looks...more than okay. He looks how Andrew feels, and it startles him to realize what that means.

Because Andrew feels...good.

Andrew freezes from that one, abysmal thing. He feels good. Over a year ago, it would've been a miracle to feel at all.

"It won't stop," Neil fills the silence, when Andrew is quiet for too long, eyes boring into Neil's face. The striker ducks his head, almost shyly, a word Andrew would never associate with him in a million years.

Neil's only shy when he's on the cusp of ruining someone's life for fun. The thought makes Andrew's entire being jump.

And that calmness isn't just calmness, it's the beginning of desire and yearning, rushing back with the promise of intensity. It's deja vu, this singing of his nerves. Andrew's not sure why; he expected a long talk, maybe a panic, or the itch to call Bee once all this actually happened.

Instead, he's left with this. Nothing behind it, nothing waiting in the shadows. He's sure there will be, in the future.

But his mind, in a rare fucking concession, gave him this.

"Then don't stop," Andrew nearly demands, because right then, Neil can't possibly show him enough.

Neil perks up, head lifting, performing the same search Andrew is so familiar with. He travels the lengths and lines of Andrew's face, just looking. Someday, Andrew will be okay enough to ask what Neil sees.

Whatever he finds, it makes him grin, a thing which Andrew will always hate him for. "Mm, okay."

Neil's legs wrap around him slowly, loosely, as if to keep Andrew nestled there. It gives Andrew the chance to break away, to retreat, and Neil won't take offense.

But the intent is clear; he wants Andrew there, wants Andrew close.

That same clinginess takes root in Andrew's veins, already missing the heat of Neil's body.

He wades through the waters of his head, one last time, because surely that can't be right. He's been asking that a lot lately, telling himself things can't be right when all evidence shows they are.

"Do you need to go?" Neil asks, echoing the question burning in Andrew's head. Does he?

The itch is back, but it's not bad, it's not wary. It's telling him to get closer.

When too many seconds pass without Andrew moving, Neil starts to create the space for him, to back away. Andrew grabs his ankle so fast Neil jumps, and he yanks him forward, showing off. Soon, Neil is flush against Andrew again. It's right, it pushes all the correct buttons inside him. When Neil feels the beginnings of Andrew's desire, semi-hard and leaking against his body, his eyes widen.

But well, Andrew did always like to give him a verbal answer.

Lazily, he tilts his head, regarding Neil in all his glory. Disheveled hair, drying cum on his chest, open and ready to take Andrew as many times as they both want. No, no reason to leave at all. Many reasons to stay.

"I don't think I'm done with you yet," Andrew deadpans, but he doesn't mean it. Neil will know he doesn't. They can end it here, if they need to. He watches Neil process the words, the slow blink. Neil's damn eyelashes are so long, even the dumbfounded stare seems sultry.

If there is a creator, Neil was made just to fuck with Andrew, knowing Andrew will do nothing to stop him.

Neil's confusion bursts into joy, blush high on his scarred cheekbones, and when he lunges forward into Andrew's arms, Andrew is all too ready to catch him.

#andreil #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game

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publiccollectors · 5 years ago

Photo

QUARANZINE #79 QUARANZINE #79: Andrew Ellis Johnson. Most of the time I don't know what I'm publishing more than a day before I print. Many days I learn or figure out what I will publish the same day. Though I see him very infrequently, I have known Pittsburgh-based Artist Andrew Johnson for almost 30 years. He was a grad student at Carnegie Mellon when I was an undergrad. Through Joe Mannino's Artmaking In Context (which was basically Social Practice before anyone started calling it by that annoying name) I started visiting Western Penitentiary (a max security prison that has since been torn down) as a volunteer visiting artist. Later this opened the door for some others at CMU to begin meeting with incarcerated artists in the prison and Andrew started going in as well on separate visits with some of the same men. The experience was mindblowing (I was 21 years old when I started visiting and had no idea what the hell I was doing). Andrew became someone I could compare notes with because every week there would be a ton of things to process and no one else to debrief with. My faculty sponsor Joe was very supportive but so freaked out by our first visit (where an asshole guard tried to pry the face off his watch while patting us down) that he was basically like, "I support this but you're on your own buddy." I still think about my visits to Western Pen. and I associate Andrew with many of those thoughts. Anyway, all of this is to say that it feels really good to be printing this new drawing by Andrew as well as an extraordinary poem he just wrote. The original ink drawing is nearly 10 feet long and the RISO certainly cannot do justice to something like that, but hey, at least the poem is life size. Thanks to Susanne Slavick for helping to coordinate Andrew's participation. On days like today that have so much stress, making a new issue is always a highlight, even though it's pretty late and almost tomorrow.

#QUARANZINE #Andrew Ellis Johnson #Public Collectors #Marc Fischer #coronavirus #covid-19 #zine #zines #publications #RISO #Carnegie Mellon U.

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venmomejoy · 5 years ago

Text

The Lucky Ones- part 2

Thank you guys for reading!! I hope you like this chapter :)

Read it on AO3 here !!!

part one / part three / part four

As soon as Neil made it back into his interim home, he spent hours pouring over the script Kevin had given him. Neil immersed himself in the pages of dialogue and stage directions, allowing himself to leave Neil Josten for a while and slip into the mind of Alex Howell.

The Foxes was a lot different than Evermore. Where Evermore focused on magic and fantasy elements, The Foxes had a modern setting, with no supernatural aspects. Rather than flashy effects and gripping action scenes, The Foxes depicted the messy lives and relationships of the students at Palmetto High School, specifically how they interact and respond in the wake of the murder of a classmate, all the while navigating friendship and romance and identity. Neil will be playing Alex, a transfer student who is chock-full of secrets, and seems to know more than he is letting on. The irony wasn't lost on Neil.

He tried to get some sleep, but only managed to toss and turn for a few hours, restlessness forcing his eyes open. Early morning light was just beginning to filter through the windows when Neil inspected the contents of his duffel bag, ensuring all of his belongings were still inside. He never unpacked the thing, or left it out of his sight long enough for someone to go through it, but he would rather be safe than sorry. He couldn't afford to lose these things; he would be completely alienated from all of his connections and resources if he did, losing contacts for quality fake IDs and coordinates for stashes of cash.

Neil desperately needed to run, craving the blankness of mind that comes with pushing his body to its limits, but unfortunately, abandoned houses weren't equipped with running water, and he thought it was probably bad form to show up for his first day sticky with dried sweat, for as soon as they landed in L.A., they would be heading straight to set so Neil could meet the cast and crew.

If the pale pink light coloring the walls was any indication, it was far too early for Wymack to retrieve him, but Neil was too agitated to lie around any longer. He settled for a walk, needing some sort of outlet for the nervousness slowly eating through his sanity. Motion had always been Neil's most conformable state; running was what he was used to, what kept him safe. There was comfort in it- in movement, he was always in a position to escape. Sitting still left him vulnerable. It was in stillness that he could be cornered.

Swinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, Neil turned and took one last look at the house. It was dingy, stains littering the ceiling and carpet, paint peeling off in large chunks, but Neil had kept it pretty clean. No one would suspect he had been squatting there for the past three and a half months. Neil took off without a backwards glance.

With hours to kill, Neil practically covered the entirety of the town as he walked. Residential streets eventually gave way to businesses- restaurants, doctors offices', the lone grocery store. Neil let his gaze dart around, checking for anyone hidden in the shadows, any strange cars passing him on the road. He knew this was a bad idea. Joining one of the most prominent shows on television was the exact opposite of what Neil needed to be doing if he wanted to stay alive. He needed to live in obscurity, and instead, he was pushing himself into the brightest spotlight he could find. Not to mention the fact that his personal life would be put on blast; the media loved to dredge up celebrities' private information. He wasn't sure his story would hold up under that kind of scrutiny. But he needed something, something to ground him, to sate this hunger for more than just survival.

Soon enough, the town started waking up. The streets began filling as people drove to work or dropped their kids off at school. There was a good amount of people walking as well, the town so small that it was easy enough to walk most everywhere you needed to go. Several people smiled as they passed Neil, some even waving in greeting; Neil instinctively dropped his head, letting his dark brown curls shield his face. Neil took the growing activity in town as indication that he should probably head towards the theater to meet Wymack.

Within ten minutes Neil found himself at the front of the theater. The building was deserted- no one had business at the theater at eight a.m. on a Monday morning. Neil sat on the concrete steps leading to the building, his knee bouncing as he waited for the ride that would take him away from this life, away from all he'd ever known.

The theater sat directly across from the high school. From where he was sitting, Neil could see the students lounging outside the building, chatting with their friends, waiting until the last possible minute to run into class. He had chosen to make Neil Josten eighteen when he moved here, even though he would not actually turn eighteen for five more months, so he had never been inside the school. Neil had been disconsolate when he arrived here; in the midst of altering his entire lifestyle so it would function without his mother, he didn't have it in him to bother with school. He also didn't want to worry about forging parental consent, which worked out well for Wymack's offer- being eighteen allowed him to sign the contract and work on set without required notification and consent of a guardian.

A honk startled Neil from his thoughts, his hands flying to his bag as his muscles tensed to run, but he relaxed at the sight of Wymack behind the wheel. Kevin was staring unabashedly at Neil as he stalks over to the black suburban. He slid into the backseat next to Andrew, and the smile he shot Neil was nothing short of venomous. Neil kept his face blank as he averted his eyes.

It was Kevin who spoke first. "Where is your stuff?"

"This is it." Neil tightened his grip on his bag as Kevin eyed it.

"Do you want to put it in the trunk?" Wymack asked. "We have a bit of a drive to the airport."

"I'm fine with it here."He could tell he had piqued Andrew's interest, could feel his eyes roving over his bag with renewed interest, but refused to acknowledge him. He could not give Andrew any indication of what this bag held, any reason to be curious about his belongings.

"Suit yourself," Wymack said, pulling the car onto the road. After moments of silence, he spoke up again. "So, Neil, you're familiar with The Foxes?"

"Sort of. I've seen a couple episodes." Without television or internet access, it was hard to find opportunities to watch.

"Wow, too good to act with us, and too good to even watch the show? You've wounded my pride, Neil," Andrew drawled from beside him.

Neil's jaw clenched, willing himself to maintain his docile persona. He didn't need to draw any unnecessary attention to himself, and certainly didn't need any enemies as dangerous as Andrew Minyard, if the stories about him were to be believed. "It's not that, we just didn't have internet access at my house."

"Your parents spend all that time working and they still can't afford internet?" Neil just looked at the blond, unable to come up with a response.

"Andrew," Wymack warned.

"We're all trying to figure out what the deal with your parents is. Well, I am, at least. My money's on them beating you, but Kevin and Wymack aren't the betting sort, so I'll have to take my wager elsewhere." Neil snapped his head up, meeting Andrew's taunting gaze. Neil knows he's just trying to provoke him, but it still unnerves him how close Andrew was to the truth after knowing Neil for an hour, if even.

"Jesus, Andrew," Wymack groans. "Cut the shit or I'll sign you up for the next marathon."

"I'm quaking in my boots." Andrew busts out in a fit of laughter that no one else joins.

Entirely ignoring Andrew's comments, Kevin steers the conversation back towards the show. "You'll need to watch the first two seasons before we can even think about beginning production." He twists in his seat to look at Neil. "Everything builds on itself in television; the plot of this season will be in direct correlation to the plot of the previous ones. It's important that you understand everything that has already happened, how the other characters behave and interact, so you can properly play your role. A lot of characters' backstories and personalities have already been explored in the earlier seasons, and everything that occurs in season three will be written with the expectation that the audience has seen the previous episodes and already knows these facts; we cannot repeat things for you. So these two weeks, while you familiarize yourself with the cast and the inner workings of screen acting, you will watch the show. Then we can get started on the actual acting.”

Neil knew all of this, of course, and was vaguely annoyed that Kevin was speaking to him like he was stupid, but he had told them he had no experience with screen acting, and an amateur would be hanging onto his every word. Unable to stoop that low, Neil settled on schooling his features into neutrality and offering a nod of understanding. But there was still another issue:

"How am I going to watch it?" Without a phone or a computer, there was no way for him to stream anything.

"You'll be staying with us in the cast house, and we have TVs there that you can use," Kevin said, either unaware of or ignoring Neil's confused stare.

Before he could ask Kevin about the cast house, Andrew spoke up. "Haven't you heard, Neil? We all live together during filming. One big, happy family." Laughter bubbles out of Andrew's chest.

This posed new complications for Neil. On one hand, he wouldn't have to waste as much money on housing and the like. He had been nervous about blowing so much of his resources on a house, since he imagined he wouldn't be able to get away with squatting on abandoned property with so many people watching him. He would probably still have to pay a portion of the rent and utilities, but it would be far less than he was expecting, and that lifted a weight off of his shoulders. On the other, it would make it a lot harder for Neil to keep things confidential. Not only would he be at risk for people looking through his things, if he had to run he would have a whole crowd of people to sneak past. He would have to keep his guard up all the time; one slip-up could cost him his life, and he would no longer have a space to drop his act.

The conversation dwindled after that, and the airport appeared sooner than Neil had anticipated. After checking their bags and going through security, the four of them walked to their gate and boarded the plane almost immediately. Neil was surprised to be seated first class; it made sense, he supposed, since he was flying with an acclaimed director and two of the most famous actors in Hollywood, but Neil had only ever flown in the economy class, he and his mother always opting for the cheapest option possible. The plush seats were roomier than the firm, cramped ones Neil had known.

He was sat with Wymack, Kevin and Andrew sitting together across the aisle. From what he'd heard in the news, Andrew and Kevin were practically inseparable, one hardly ever being seen without the other. If they were as close as the media seems to think, Neil understood why they choose to sit together, but Neil couldn't help a little stab of resentment when he realized they had left him with Wymack. He didn't have anything against the man, but he had a deep-seated fear of any man that was close to his father's age, and Wymack fit the description. Neil tensed as soon as Wymack fell into the seat next to him, his instincts revolting at the idea of sitting in close quarters with him. Neil clasped his hands tightly in his lap, willing his muscles to relax. After the plane plateaued in the air, Neil pulled out his script and begins analyzing the lines, chunks beginning to stick in his memory.

"It's important to read the entire script, so you know what is happening in the show as a whole, but after getting a general understanding of the episode's plot you should focus on your scenes. I know in theatre you have months of rehearsals to nail your lines, but screen acting is far more condensed. You have a couple of weeks now, but typically actors get the script only days before they begin filming. No need wasting brain space on scenes you are not even in."

Neil suppressed an eye roll at Wymack's unsolicited advice. His director filled the first half of the flight preparing Neil for what he would face when he arrived in L.A., explaining what the set would look like and how a typical day of filming would go. It had been many years since Neil had been on a set, and he had been a child at that, so he gladly absorbed all the information Wymack gave him. He told him a little bit about the main cast, and he told him that he and the rest of the cast will have biweekly meetings with their acting coach, Abby, courtesy of Kevin. Apparently, Kevin thought their biggest issue was that they acted as individuals, not as a team. In a scene, the actors need to draw from each other's energies and emotions to make the connection authentic, and Kevin's been working on making the cast more in sync. He and Wymack eventually settled into silence, Neil reading his script and Wymack typing away on his laptop.

The flight was pretty short, only two hours of airtime before they were landing in LAX. The drive to the studio was quiet, the occasional comment fading into silence. Neil was staring out the window, taking in the scenery of his new home. It was dirtier than he expected, but still nice. He assumed the beautiful scenery always seen in movies was towards the beaches, not in the middle of urban life, so he cut the city some slack. The sheer amount of people he saw passing by had him clutching his duffel bag tighter. It was too easy to get lost in a city this big, to disappear and have no one notice you're gone until it's too late. Neil had been looking over his shoulder his whole life, but that isn't always enough when people are coming from all sides.

They drove through security at the studio, providing authorization before parking in Wymack's designated spot. As Neil swung out of the car, he spotted a brown-skinned boy sprinting towards him, a grin breaking out on his face. If the curls didn't give the man's identity away, his personality did: Nicky Hemmick was bubbly beyond belief, his excitement making Neil vaguely uncomfortable. Walking at a much slower pace behind Nicky was a carbon copy of Andrew- his twin, Aaron.

"You must be Neil," Nicky panted, sticking his hand out for Neil to shake when he got close enough. "How was your trip? I hope Kevin and Andrew didn't soil your opinion of us; I swear, the rest of us have manners."

Andrew feigned hurt. "Here I was, expecting a touching reunion, and this is what I'm met with? Slander, and from my own cousin!"

"It was fine," Neil said.

"That's good to hear. I'm Nicky, by the way. I play Henry." Nicky's character had always been a fan favorite; many people found themselves relating to the sweet gay kid and the adversity he faced as he came out.

Neil pulls up a quick smile. "It's nice to meet you."

Aaron didn't so much as acknowledge Neil when he looked over at him. Wymack's gruff voice spoke up. "Is everyone else inside?"

Nicky nodded. "Anxiously awaiting our newest member," he said, sending a wink Neil's way.

With that, Kevin strode forward and Neil followed him into the building, Wymack, Nicky, and the twins flanking him. Kevin was pointing things out as they walked- where the bathrooms were, where the craft service was located- and eventually led him into the lounge, where the rest of the cast was sitting. Almost all of them stood as Neil entered, a tall boy with spiky black hair approaching him first.

“Matt Boyd," he said, extending his hand. "Wymack showed us some videos of you performing, you seem like you have real talent. We're excited to work with you."

"Speak for yourself," Aaron muttered from behind him.

"Thank you," Neil responded to Matt. The man only clapped him on the shoulder, not noticing the way Neil stiffened under the contact.

Matt pointed to the short-haired girl standing behind him, a fierce smile on her face. "This is Dan, our fearless leader." Dan Wilds played Kayla, the shows main protagonist.

"And that is Renee," he said sweeping his hand to a girl with a kind face and rainbow-tipped hair, before moving onto a couple, the girl sitting on the boy's lap, his hands running idly over her thighs. "And the PDA show stars Allison and Seth. Those two are always all over each other. Well, unless their fighting. Then you won't see them speaking unless it's to hurl insults at each other."

"We can hear you, dick," Seth seethes.

Dan steps forward, halting the brewing fight before it could take off. "It's really good to meet you, Neil. Kevin said you have already started looking at the script?"

"Yeah, I studied it last night, and on the flight."

"Perfect, we want you to be as prepared as possible for your first time on set. We have a training session with Abby tomorrow, so that will give us an opportunity to feel out where you are in your skills and how you naturally work with all of us. We can go from there." Neil simply nodded.

"The table read for the episode one will be in two weeks," Wymack says. "In that time, Neil, you need to be caught up on the show and familiar with the set. These guys will all help you if you have any questions. Now, I've got paperwork to do, so you maggots do something useful for once and show Neil around." With that, he strode out of the room.

Neil stood their awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to say, but Dan quickly came to his rescue. "Let's go, Neil. We can take you by your trailer so you can drop your stuff off, and then we'll show you the inner workings of a television set."

Neil followed Dan, with Matt, Allison, Seth, and Renee coming as well, but turned back to look at the group he was leaving behind. Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron were paying him no mind, not even noticing his gaze, but he found Andrew's eyes already on his. Andrew's intense gaze never wavered as a slow smile spread across his face. When Neil didn't break his stare, Andrew cocked his head to the side, flicking his fingers in a mocking goodbye.

Neil had the feeling he would be seeing a lot more of Andrew. And he doubted it would be friendly.

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