#who framed andrew fox

[allfortheslay25]

Who Framed Andrew Fox? Toon AU

Forgot to say Neil is 28 and Andrew is 30

Both tend to act in Mobster toon films but Andrew dabbles in comedic skits too (gets high to do it tho)

Kevin below 👇

Kevin is a detective who hit rock bottom after investigating his mother’s death and finding out a toon did it but not catching the toon

He takes up a quick job to catch evidence of Nathaniel Fox’s infidelity leading to Andrew Fox (his husband) to murder Ichirou Moriyama in a jealous rage. However, something doesn’t seem right with the crime so Kevin volunteers to clear Andrew’s name

(I forgot Neil’s scars in the last image. Sue me)

[allforthegaymes]

Neil josten and his disposable cameras against the world.

Neil josten who has spent his entire life ducking away from photos, whose heart still beats a little faster when he sees a photo blown up for a poster on the side of the stadium when the season starts up again. Who sees a news article about himself go up and refuses to read it, trusting his pr manager (and andrew) to make sure anything posted about him isnt something weird.

Neil josten with a different disposable camera tucked into the pockets of every pair of jeans, each backpack and duffel bag, and shoved into nearly any crevice of the apartment.

(Andrew fishes at least one a month out of the dryer after they get forgotten in Neils jeans)

At first Abby had suggested it as a way to get more used to hearing a camera flash and associate it with something positive.

So theres rolls and rolls of film developed around the dorm, photos of the foxes, the stadium when the sun sets over it and lights the sky up orange. Blurry photos from Edens of Aaron and Nicky dancing to ABBA, photographed right after is a picture of both of them leaning on the bar wall outside crying into their phones trying to call Katelyn and Erik.

(Andrew corrals them into the car when he realizes that Aaron and Nicky drunkenly called one another and had been blabbering to one another from just over a foot away thinking they’d actually called their respective partners)

A series of photos of Kevin drunk and half leaning over the bar trying to snag someone elses drink that Roland is in the middle of mixing, showing Roland darting back and forth trying to dodge Kevins long reach.

Another photo of Kevin being dragged out of Edens by security, Rolands mixer held up victoriously in his hand as he’s brought outside.

A picture of Allison leaning against her pink convertible. Her hair is tossed back behind her and her mouth is open with a loud bark of laughter. She’d glared at Neil after for taking a picture of her unaware but she has the photo pinned up in the girls dorm room anyways.

Photos of all the cats at the shelter when they decide to adopt Sir. Most of the photos are of Sir. Nearly all of them looking identical because of the Persian’s inability to not have a permanent glare on his face.

The cycle repeats when they get King. The Scottish Folds face etched with a permanently shocked look.

Theres a photo of her on the bathroom counter, feet blurry in the bottom of the photo but its clear shes trying to scramble backwards, the edge of a hair tie looped around the sink faucet and the other half lodged in her mouth as she tries valiantly to pull it loose without getting it in the water spray as Andrew washes his face in the mirrors reflection.

Andrew takes up the majority of the photos. Sure there’s hundreds pictures of the other foxes scattered about but Andrew is always Neil’s main focus.

Wether its actually Andrew framed front and center, always trying to give his typical unimpressed look but constantly betrayed by the uptick of the corners of his mouth, the slightest peak of his teeth when he closes his eyes at the beginning of a tired smile towards Neil.

Or if its not related to Andrew, the essence of him always ends up leaking in. The curl of cigarette smoke at the bottom of a photo of the sunset view from the top of Fox Tower. The reflection of his arm bands in the photo Neil snapped of the Maserati in the rain.

Neil’s favorites are the ones of him and Andrew in their house after theyve gone pro. Its a cozy house out in Washington, close enough to the Seattle team that they can comfortably commute each day without having to actually live within the city.

The lighting is always half shit because of the constant overcast sky outside. But the array of lamps inside always try their best to make the photos look orange and cozy.

Andrew sat asleep in Neils armchair. The bright orange fabric something that Andrew had huffed and rolled his eyes at, but constantly found himself in instead of the black designer chaise Andrew had bought. Both cats are on him. Sir sat on his shoulder glaring down at King, who is in the process of trying to eat his hoodie strings.

Andrew stood in the kitchen, his bare back turned towards Neil as he pours a smoothie out from the blender, arm already reached behind him and holding Neil’s smoothie glass out towards him.

Andrew a half second later, turned looking startled over his shoulder in shock from the sound of the camera shutter as Neils smoothie is caught in motion falling to the floor. Another photo following of Neil hunched over on the floor sweeping up glass.

A photo of Andrew stood with his hip cocked looking up at the light fixture on the ceiling, arms crossed in front of his chest as he stares up at it, the light half ripped out of the ceiling when he’d gotten the midnight urge to change it and then quickly remembered he was a professional athlete and not an electrician.

Andrew hunched over in the engine of a Mustang. The cars an obnoxious bright yellow, two black racing stripes gone up the middle of the hood. His hands are covered in grease and theres a streak of grease running through his short blonde hair as well. Theres a wrench in his hand and a jug of some fluid propped on the engine that Neil doesnt care enough to understand what its for.

And Neil knows the foxes start taking more pictures of him, can hear the camera shutter or see the flash going off but doesnt flinch away or try to sidestep out of the way anymore. Doesnt care that theres evidence of Neil Josten being a real man that exists and lives a real life outside of fake IDs and lies, because he has photos of the life he’s created for himself as well.

[cobbbvanth]

so the thing about andrew maybe giving up smoking because of what jean says that has me so !!!!! is that the inciting event (foxes vs ravens match) wasn't even remotely a failure on andrew's part.

but when neil got hurt this time it wasn't that andrew wasn't fast enough! andrew was attacked thirty seconds into the game and even neil "fastest man in class I exy" josten couldn't have (and didn't) make it across the court to him before the violence started.

regardless of this, andrew throws the cigarette away. because he can't stand seeing neil get hurt, and if there's even a possibility that jean was right that andrew's habit of smoking might be the reason neil gets hurt again, then it has to go. again we get a flash of andrew's lack of self preservation because if it was for his own health he'd have given up any one of the number of times kevin asked him to. but now it's framed around neil, and it's not just andrew who needs him to live.

[existentialterror]

ARG notes: ZampanioSim

Okay, a work this metafictional and also that (I think) responds to audience interaction is going to need a high-caliber gimmick. Hang on.

...

Alright. Hey guys, catfishAnabasis (Light) here, taking a moment out of my surprisingly busy day tell you about a weird thing on the internet.

ZampanioSim is an intricate and brainbending ARG. It takes direct inspiration from Homestuck, The Magnus Archives, and House of Leaves, as well as the creator (JR, jadedResearcher/justifiedRecursion)'s previous canon of Homestuck fan-work and games. A major theme is "unreality".

HERE IS YOUR TRAILHEAD.

Feel free to ignore the rest of the writeup and check it out now.

I know very little about JR's other work, right now. However, among my many INTERESTS, I am something of a TMA ENJOYER and an AMATEUR INTERNET INVESTIGATOR, and if I were in a HOUSE I like to think I could LEAVE it pretty easily.

So, yeah. I figured I'd just describe my experience of this rabbithole and maybe you'll want to check it out too. I'm sure this will only scratch the surface.

ZampanioSim is structured as a nested labyrinth. In the same way that:

Homestuck is a webcomic framed as an interactive adventure game about an account of kids playing a video game (Sgrub) that doesn't exist, and

House of Leaves is a novel framed as a found scholarly discussion about a documentary (The Navidson Record) that doesn't exist about a house that doesn't exist,

ZampanioSim is a game-based ARG framed as an attempt to simulate a game (Zampanio) that doesn't exist based on a found FAQ of the game (that only sort of exists).

More concretely, ZampanioSim features a lot of nested browser games, as well as audio, narrative, an actual audience-interactive narrative game (the way Homestuck was originally), external websites, and more.

The starting point is, of course, the House:

ZampanioSim takes full advantage of the browser as medium. There is content accessible via the address bar, developer tools, cookies (I think), the developer console, and probably more that I haven't realized.

Like, to give you a sense of the kind of rabbithole we're dealing with: Here's a map I made of the House outset page today:

...And I say today because the House does change over time. Today (a friday) when I clicked on the EastEast route, for instance, I was greeted by this grotesquely distorted version of Rebecca Black's "Friday":

Okay, let's talk about what we have going on in the House map, starting from the doors and working out. (I've given some of these my own names for clarity.)

North

The Classpect Menu Game:

This, I think, is the main titular "ZampanioSim". It's the part that's intended to recreate the experience of a supposed old computer game, but by and large, you only experience the menu screen, not the rest of the gameplay. You can select attributes (based on Homestuck's Classpecting system + the Magnus Archives fears) gain points and select skills and (depending on your seed) eventually "beat the game". It's glitchy, it's a hellscape, there's an entity or two in the menu system that are trying to talk to you. It's great fun. Contains links to a rabbithole (which you can plug passwords into for more secrets) and + some secrets to you in the credits.

(While mostly the aspects seem to add flavor to the menu options, there's a special class called "Waste". This appears in neither TMA nor Homestuck, but comes from a fan or meta-joke that Andrew Hussie and Toby Fox, the writer and a major composer for Homestuck, are classpected* as the "Waste of Space" and "Waste of Time". By telling it you're a "Waste"you're more likely to get weird glitches and new options in your Classpect Menu game run - there's a fun recurring element in some of these games about the game changing depending on who you tell it is playing. I learned about the Waste trick from JR's youtube channel. Also, setting your birthday as Halloween might also do something.)

I have no idea if the different iterations of games here are substantially different. I haven't checked. There's a lot going on. "There's a lot going on" is a good summary of ZampanioSim overall.

*( Uh, classpecting is this in-Homestuck personality system where game players are a [Role] of [Element].)

Eyedlr: Eyedol Games is the company that supposedly made the original game Zampanio. Eyedlr is their spambot-filled tumblr clone, which also has secrets in it. (Actually, just assume everything has secrets out.)

East

The House Exploration game: It has the same setup screen as the Classpect Menu game, but this one drops you into a game with visuals: An infinite(?) procedural house you navigate with imagery derived from your choices.

Peewee's exploration game: When it's not blasting Rebecca Black's Friday But Weird into your ears, the EastEast route is another procedural infinite(?) maze, except that you type directions to Peewee, a snake guy with goggles who also moves around on his own. This one also introduces named characters we learn more about elsewhere.

Bathroom text: Procredural bathroom maze, unless it's just some text telling you to take a break. ZampanioSim really likes telling you to take breaks and hydrate, so that you can better appreciate and spread Zampanio.

Absolutely not. Also, I'm a busy woman. I have to finish this writing summary first.

South

The Train Game: a game - notably not a maze - where JR walks down a series of train corridors and monologues to you about the game and the "reality" behind it.

The mazecrawler game: You tell a little guy how to navigate an infinite(?) maze - and if you choose right and open up your browser's Console menu, you can learn a great deal more about

West

The only West route is AdventureSimWest, which is an actual text narrative game where readers submit commands that the author incorporates into updates - just like early Homestuck. It's still going. The logs are extensive but it's mostly about the antics of a new employee at Eyedol Games, which is stuck in a time loop.

Other

Then there's some other scattered clickable text -

The truth about alt: An exchange between two shapeshifters.

A transcript: A dialogue between two people who apparently work for Eyedol Games.

The lower left leads you to an apparently rotating selection of other Zampanio-related games. I particularly liked NagaGirlfriend.

None of this is even the stuff you can reach this page exclusively through the Console menu.

And much more

And there's a lot of stuff that's NOT branching directly off of the house. There's other things you find buried in links or by searching - a discord and a wiki that both straddle the line between in-character and -out, Archive of Our Own content, a youtube channel, the Eyedol website...

Is there a "story" to ZampanioSim?

Yes.

Like I said, there's a lot I haven't seen yet. But what's going on is something like this:

JR is attempting to recreate this game, Zampanio, of course, and tap into its fanbase. The game Zampanio is an infectious meme. Eyedol Games is a transdimensional company that is perhaps both trying to spread the meme and contain it, by removing its spores, e.g. the Zampanio FAQ - the thing that inspired JR to make ZampanioSim - from the internet.

Various parts of the game recognize that they are fictional and may identify you the reader/player as "Observers".

There are a few recurring characters who have gotten swept up into the meme, either working for Eyedol or trapped in ZampanioSim or both, and have followed it from variant to transdimensional variant.

(this is an image from homestuck. it's a reference.)

Japes aside, this is a brain-bending, very cool, and completely ludicrous unfiction project which I believe is made mostly by one person with an unparalleled hand for web sorcery, whimsy, and vibes. The vibes are so good.

The host website, Farrago Fiction (which AFAICT is a multi-person project), hosts a number of often-homestuck-inspired weird games and simulators.

I know ZampanioSim is now a few years old and is still actively updating. Consider checking it out.

2024-08-24 edit: Part 2!

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

A (very) incomplete list of things I loved in TSC: (obviously, spoilers)

Jean having no sense of time at the beginning. he has literally zero idea how much time has passed and has no frame of reference. it feels like weeks; we only know because we read the original series

the shift once again, this time from Jean's POV, from Nathaniel to Neil! it being a mark of respect

seeing how Neil really relayed the deal with Ichirou to Kevin and Jean (that Neil totally glossed over in TKM)

all of Jean's internal and spoken insults for everyone around him but especially all the Foxes

Jean's complete and utter disdain for short people and how many there are, just, everywhere. why are short people allowed? they should be illegal

Andrew's single word in the entire book being, "Leaving." just classic

the whole scene where Jean watches the final game? where he is so invested in how the Foxes are doing that when they win he shoves the tv?

Jean mentally adding Andrew into the Perfect Court because they need a goalkeeper, deciding that if Kevin and Riko die it would be ok because Jean, Andrew, and Neil were enough to rebuild around

Jeremy standing at baggage claim playing with a yo-yo until he gets it tangled in his headphones

Cat teaching Jean to cook

Jean being adorably horny and constantly swayed by beautiful people

Cat thinking Renee is hot

Jean just...not understanding how people function if their every move is not controlled at first? and then starting to come around?

Jean buying clothes! picking out things for himself!

Jeremy buying people in need gift cards because he can

Barkbark von Barkenstein being the silent unwitting center of a tiny war between Jean and Jeremy

Rhemann starting to realize what Jean/the Ravens have been going through at the hands of their coaches and needing to take a minute or fifty to get over it

Jean finding himself adopted into a queer family and just rolling with it

Jeremy and his complete and utter avoidance of every possible personal problem. nothing to see here, folks

Jean's glee when the Trojans first curse, being absolutely certain that this is revealing some deep well of depravity

the Trojans' techniques for staying sportsmanlike on the court (while really aggravating the fuck out of their opponents)

the fact that Neil and Jean together are basically a buddy comedy (which I NEED MORE OF)

Neil from an outside perspective as a weird little man who can negotiate without flinching with dangerous people, navigate an unfamiliar city after briefly studying printed off Mapquest instructions, coolly order a hit in the middle of a restaurant, and develop a convincing lie at the drop of a hat

Neil's tactless but relentless kindness?

"A cool evening breeze. Rainbows. Open roads. Friends."

[pendingnomdeplume]

i love the nightlife pairing: hozier x transmasc!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: First Meetings, Hook-Ups, Blow Jobs, Fingering words: 6.8k note: there is no language regarding AFAB anatomy in this fic. cocks and holes abound.

[Read it on AO3]

title from I Love the Nightlife by Alicia Bridges divider by: sylusz

Clubs have never really been your thing. 

Getting drunk in a loud, dark, moderately humid building packed with people isn’t exactly your idea of a good time. You much prefer a glass of whiskey in the comfort of your favorite spot on your couch, usually coupled with a book or another re-watch of The Sopranos. You like boring. You thrive in the safe and mundane.

Yet, here you are, braced against the bar top at a local gay club that advertises $5 well drinks on Thursday nights. You shout your drink order to a handsome gentleman with an enviable mustache and the tightest black tank top you’ve ever seen. He hands you a slightly overpoured whiskey with a wink and a purposeful brush against your hand. 

As your face burns in embarrassment, you decide that maybe now is the time to head outside and get some air. You’ve already lost your roommate, Mason, who fucked off to chat up a silver fox of a bear with a leather vest and a pelt of chest hair unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You’re impressed and also a little envious that your own chest hair isn’t quite as robust. 

With Mason otherwise occupied (despite the fact that he pleaded with you to come out tonight), you wander out to the patio where the music doesn’t reverberate through your chest. It’s a lovely, mild spring evening, a fresh breeze lapping at your overheated skin and cooling the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

You beeline for the empty table located in a far corner, collapsing into the chair and sinking into it as you let out a long sigh. A glance at your phone tells you that it’s only 11 PM, and the party inside hasn’t even truly started yet. It’s an easy choice to stay out here and eavesdrop on the conversations of strangers rather than go back inside and be wildly overstimulated. 

Worst case scenario, you’re taking a taxi back to your flat without your roommate in tow. You have his location on your phone, and you figure that he’s a big boy who can make his own choices, no matter how dumb and misguided. 

“Are you hiding out, as well?” 

The voice startles you, and you whip around to meet hazel eyes through thick-rimmed glasses, and a soft, pretty smile. This man looks like he’s been ripped straight from your fantasies—tall and lanky with dark curls that frame his face. His denim jacket is decorated with pins of different musicians and pop culture references, only some of which you understand. His denim jeans are a near perfect match in color to the jacket, and his tucked in t-shirt reveals a black belt with a silver buckle. 

For the last 20 minutes or so, you’ve noticed this gentleman hovering in your periphery. With every glance, you’d catch his gaze for only a moment before he quickly turned to look away. Slightly unnerving given his unknown intentions, but this man looks at you almost reverently now as he grabs your attention. 

You let out a little laugh and nod. “Yeah, my roommate…he dragged me out here just to abandon me after ten minutes.”

The man hums in amusement. “Ah, that sounds familiar. It’s my friend’s birthday, yet I seem to have lost her somewhere. Have you seen a short, blonde lass with a…” he gestures vaguely at his head. “You know, a birthday headband thing.”

You shake your head. “Sorry, can’t say I have.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I figured not. I’ve no clue where she’s run off to now, though it may be better not to know, honestly.”

“She's a slippery one, then?” 

The man laughs, revealing rows of pearly white teeth. “Slippery as a fuckin’ eel. I’m not too worried, though. Worst she’ll do is overindulge on Hurricanes.” He pulls a disgusted face and shakes his head. 

He introduces himself as Andrew before offering you a cigarette from a softened pack he pulls from his pocket. Drunk you is far less discerning about such vices, so you accept and allow him to light it for you with the flick of a Zippo as you take a drag. 

After a brief pause, he tilts his head and asks, “You didn’t happen to attend Trinity, did you?” 

You shake your head. “Nah, sorry. I didn’t.”

Andrew nods. “Right, sorry. Thought you looked familiar, is all.” He falters as he tucks his hair behind his ear.

There’s something about him that’s familiar to you, as well, but you can’t remember ever meeting him previously. You’re sure you’d remember a face and a dazzling smile like that.

Though you can’t be entirely sure, there’s a non-zero chance that this man is flirting with you. You’re not surprised so much as you’re caught off-guard. Mason is normally the one to get hit on, especially by tall, dark, handsome men like this. Except, Mason isn’t here, is instead chasing a man more in line with his own personal interests (namely, an abundance of graying hair and shoulders the width of a linebacker’s), and Andrew’s attention is focused squarely on you. 

You wonder if perhaps he’s a straight man out of his element. A rogue birthday girl is about, after all. Maybe he got roped into attending the club at her request. It’s not uncommon, and you’ve had a few swings and misses in the past from similar situations. No harm, no foul. Rejection hurts far less when you never had a shot to begin with.

“So…what do you do, then? Work, or school, or…?” 

You blink at him, confused. “Oh, uh, work. My dad’s a mechanic. I work at his shop in Bray.”

Andrew nods, averting his gaze to the whiskey in his hand as he gently swirls the glass. Awkward silence falls between you as you fidget with your own drink. You’re terrible at this, unsure of how to navigate the conversation when you’re not entirely sure what his angle is. You suppose you could just ask, but the words die in your throat as you meet his eyes.

“In Bray? North or South?” 

With a frown, you respond,  “Just south of the County Wicklow line.”

“Ah…I, ehm...don’t know much about cars. I suppose that’s why mechanics exist to begin with, huh? Anyway, you provide an invaluable service to…y’know…the community…”

His face scrunches as he cringes outwardly.

“Okay, that was not…Jesus Christ. I’m so sorry if I’ve bothered you, just ignore me,” he says, and you can make out the flush on his cheeks against his pale skin as he lets out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t mean to…I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you were looking for some peace, and here I am just chatting away.” 

Guilt grips your chest as you shake your head quickly. “Oh, no! I’m not bothered! Just…bad at small talk, is all.”

He seems to relax a touch as he runs a hand through his frizzy curls. “God, yeah. Me, too. As I’m sure you can tell.” 

“Well, to be fair, I haven’t given you much to work with, have I?”

Just as he opens his mouth to reply, a high-pitched voice calls out, “Andrew!” 

The two of you turn at the shouting of his name. A lively blonde with a Birthday Girl headband and a sunset orange drink bounds up to you with the type of drunk grin that comes from one too many cocktails.

“Karen, Jesus fucking Christ! Where did you run off to? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

The woman—Karen—merely shrugs, scrunching her vaguely bloodshot eyes. 

“Caoimhe and I were dancing upstairs. Have you been upstairs, Andy? It’s so cool, and the bartenders are quite heavy-handed up there.” Faltering, Karen turns to you looking perplexed. “Oh, hello there!”

“Hi,” you say with a short wave of your hand, then gesture towards her birthday headband. “Happy birthday.”

“Aw, thank you so much!” Karen turns back to Andrew and says, “Yeah, seems like you were looking for me real hard, Andy, and not at all flirting with anyone.” She turns to give you an exaggerated wink as Andrew claps his hands together with a grimace. 

“All right! Karen! Thank you so much for that. Maybe you should go find Caoimhe again, yeah? Or, Saoirse. Or, Max. Or, literally anyone else.”

“Right, right, I’ll be gone in a moment.” Karen waves a dismissive hand before addressing you directly. “Watch out for this one, yeah? Mr. Hozier here has rockstar sensibilities, so don’t fall for his meek and mild act. He’s more of the mischievous and misbehaving type, especially when he’s trying to bed some—”

“Okay!” Andrew interrupts loudly as he digs into his pocket while gently pushing Karen back towards the building. “Karen, love? Here. Go get some water, and maybe some pretzels?” 

She takes the crumpled €20 note from his hand. “Wow, bribery. That’s new.” She looks back at you and says brightly, “He must really be interested in you if he’s—” 

“Karen, for the love of God, please.”

“Right, fine! I’m going, I’m going! But, this note is going towards another Hurricane, Andrew!” 

Karen scuttles away with another wink and a wave thrown over her shoulder before she disappears into the crowd, only visible by the glittering of her headband until the crowd swallows her whole. You blink after her, equal parts amused and befuddled. What a fascinating woman.

Andrew presses his palm to his forehead. “I am…so sorry about her. Love her to death, I do, but she’s a bit of a loud mouth.”

Despite the amusing display, you’re caught up on one small detail—Andrew is, in fact, Hozier. You’ve only ever listened to his songs as part of a playlist rotation, never actually looking into the man himself. Everything you’ve ever heard about him (which is to say, not a whole lot) has only ever been positive, yet you’re still surprised by his lack of…well, ego. The man is a bonafide hometown hero, and you’re honestly shocked he hasn’t received more attention from patrons this evening. 

“Seems she spilled your secret, aye?” 

Andrew laughs awkwardly as he rubs the back of his neck. “I suppose it’s not much of a secret. I just wasn’t sure if you…I mean, you didn’t say anything, and it felt weird to…”

“No, I get it. I thought you looked familiar, but I couldn’t place you. But, yeah, I’m sure it feels weird to introduce yourself as a rockstar.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, rockstar might be a stretch. I’m just a guy with a guitar, really.”

“Right. Simply a man with a guitar and a voice and thousands upon thousands of fans,” you say with a nod before downing the rest of your drink. It settles warmly in your stomach as you wince at the bite of it on your tongue. “So, Mr. Humble, do you make a habit of flirting with random men on your nights out, or…?”

Anxiety gnaws at you as a blush heats your face. He hasn’t contested anything Karen said so far. If Andrew is interested in anything more than a bit of friendly chit-chat, you’re certainly not going to deny him the opportunity. 

“Not all the time,” he shrugs, then laughs to himself as he stares at his own nearly empty glass. “I apologize if I’m being too…forward, I suppose. Two of these, and suddenly I’m the most talkative person in the room. It also makes flirting with attractive men a lot easier.”

You can’t bite back your bashful laugh as you turn to hide your grin.

“Don’t worry, my roommate is much the same. Get a few drinks into him, and he won’t shut the fuck up about Thin Lizzy for hours. Thank God he hasn’t come out here, otherwise I’m sure he’d be teasing me about chatting you up.”

He raises a curious eyebrow. “Are you? Chatting me up, I mean?” 

You raise an eyebrow in return. “Well, it’s not as fun if I just tell you outright.”

Andrew is all smiles as he nods in agreement. “Right, of course. You’ve got to keep the mystery and suspense going, surely.” 

After a beat, your own smile falters. If you’re going to go any farther trying to woo this man who is seemingly interested, you figure it’s best to be upfront with him. Separate the wheat from the chaff and all that.

“Right,” you echo. “Listen, before anything happens, it’s probably best to let you know that I’m trans. I like to get that out of the way up top, that way nobody wastes any time.”

Andrew blinks. “Oh! That’s—that’s wonderful! I mean, not wonderful, like—it’s great that you’re—fuck me, I’m really not good at this, am I?” He laughs to himself as he drags a hand down his face. “Sorry, it’s been a minute since I’ve flirted with anyone, so, please bear with me.” 

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve absolutely no issue, if you’re worried. I appreciate you letting me know, and I don’t want you to feel…well, I hope I don’t come off as the type to be put off by that.”

Butterflies in your stomach force a startled laugh out of you. “There’s hardly a type. It’s more a case-by-case situation. Though, you’ve had the most amusing response so far, I must say.”

Andrew tilts his head. “Does that mean I have competition, then?” 

The forthrightness of the question stuns you, but you shake it off and shrug casually.  “Perhaps.” 

It’s a baldfaced lie. Any suitors you’ve had in the past have been swiftly ghosted or blocked depending on the circumstance. A fair few of them were chasers who only viewed you as a fetishistic fantasy, while others were simply too clingy or wanted to move far too quickly for your taste. The good faith folks you’ve dated haven’t been a great fit either, typically falling into the categories of too boring or too adventurous or too fuckboy for your liking.

Andrew seems different. His awkwardness is endearing, his reaction to your divulsion relatively mild compared to others. He doesn’t seem put off at all, yet he’s not suddenly chomping at the bit to rush you home the way others have previously. He just seems…well, interested. In you. 

What a novelty to intrigue someone who is lauded as Ireland’s answer to Bruce Springsteen.

“I suppose I’ll have to find a way to stand out from the crowd, then.” He shrugs before finishing off what remains in his glass, eyeing you in amusement as you try to find a response that isn’t just spluttered sounds.

He looks back towards the outdoor bar, then meets your eyes with a hesitant question on his lips. “What’re you drinking?” 

“Jameson,” you reply, shrugging when Andrew gives you a look as though the answer offends him. 

“I’ll be right back.” You try to ignore the gooseflesh that breaks out along your arms as his hand gently brushes your shoulder before he’s wandering away towards the bar. You decide to sit on one of the empty couches that’s slightly tucked away from prying eyes. You figure that perhaps some semblance of privacy might make whatever this is more comfortable for both of you.

True to his word, Andrew comes back promptly with two glasses. He hands you a lowball glass full of amber liquid before plopping down next to you, your thighs nearly touching. He seems more at ease now, turning his body to face you. His elbow rests on the back of the couch, his head propped in his hand as he practically beams at you.

“Thank you…” you say warily. “What is it?” 

“Try it.” When you frown in response, he huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “It’s whiskey. Better than Jameson, I promise.”

Upon taking a sip, your eyes go wide, and you turn your surprised expression to him. It’s probably one of the best whiskeys you’ve ever tried—dark but sweet, smoky yet smooth, with the faintest hint of ginger and orange underneath. 

“Right?” Andrew asks excitedly. “It’s Redbreast, a single pot whiskey. This one apparently has an 18-year aging process. It’s one of my favorites.”

“So, this whiskey is old enough to drink whiskey. Thank you again, by the way. This is fucking fantastic.” 

He shrugs. “Well, I can’t leave you drinking well spirits all night, can I?” 

Conversation flows easily after that. Andrew asks you broad questions about your work and laughs as he apologizes for not having more background knowledge. You tell him about growing up watching your dad work, finally getting to assist in his repairs and vintage builds as a teen, and your subsequent attendance to a trade school to follow in his footsteps. 

“He was so excited about it,” you laugh. “Even changed the name of the business from McKenna’s Mechanics to McKenna & Sons.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” he sighs.

Andrew regails you with tales of his music journey. He explains his short stint at Trinity where he met the resident birthday girl, as well as a handful of other musically-inclined folks. After making the difficult decision to drop out fairly young, his big break came from a right place, right time situation. Two albums later, and he’s finally home after a US tour that nearly killed him by the end. 

“You don’t realize how massive that country is until you’re on a bus for 12 hours just to get to the next state over.” 

He starts to get a little more bold in his flirtation as his third drink sets in, and your second drink has you feeling giddy, warm, and unsure of how to reciprocate when he rests an hand on your arm while talking about his best friend and musical partner, Alex. 

The conversation hits a bump when you work up the nerve to ask another question that’s buzzed around in your mind the entire evening. 

“May I ask a personal question?” you ask tentatively. 

Andrew blinks, then nods. “Of course.” 

“Forgive me, I’m generally out of touch with anything related to the internet these days. But…I hadn’t heard that you, um…? I mean, all of your songs are—they’re about women, yeah? I don’t know, maybe my finger just isn’t on the queer news pulse like it used to be, but that feels like something I’d have heard about.”

You can tell that the question catches him off guard as he looks away to study the twinkling fairy lights strung along the bordering fence.

“Ah, right. That.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to!” you add hastily. “I was just curious, but it’s definitely none of my business.” 

“No, no, you’re okay. It’s…complicated. Mostly because it’s more of a…new development. I mean, not—it was always there, but I never…I don’t know, I just never put any stock into it, I suppose.” 

“Were you one of those, ‘Yeah, I’d kiss a lad just for kicks, but I’m not gay,’ types?”

With a reddened face and a little laugh, he nods. “Unfortunately, yeah. I thought everyone felt that way, y’know? About finding everyone attractive. I just assumed my own heterosexuality despite the fact that a fair amount of my childhood crushes were boys. And, it’s not like my family is homophobic in any capacity, so you’d think I would have put it together sooner.”

“Hindsight is a funny thing, isn’t it? Looking back on things and realizing how obvious some of those signs were. Like, for me—and, this is going to sound absolutely demented—but I used to fantasize about getting breast cancer when I was a teen.” 

Andrew splutters on his drink. “I’m sorry, what?” 

You shrug easily. “Dysphoria is a tricky bitch. It makes you think things like that are just standard. Oh, every teenage girl feels that way about their chest. Except, they don’t. Like, at all. In fact, most people react the same way you did when I say that.” 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to—” 

“No, no worries, you’re fine. What I mean is, it was jarring to learn that most women don’t think that way. Which eventually led me to understand that I am certainly not a woman. It just took the better part of 23 years to put it all together. Which seems mad, right? But, like I said: hindsight.” 

Andrew smiles as he lifts his glass to you. “To late bloomers, then.” 

You clink your glass to his and nod. “To late bloomers.” 

***

When Andrew tentatively asks if you want to dance, you turn to look at the dance floor inside with a grimace. Steam floats out of the open doors, a testament to the sheer amount of bodies mingling together in such a small space. The thought makes you shiver. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not much into dancing. Is that okay?” 

Thankfully, Andrew looks relieved. “Oh, that’s perfectly okay. I’m not much of a dancer either, but I figured I’d ask in case you were interested.” 

Your body is flushed and warm from too much booze, and you can feel sweat begin to break out along your hairline. Andrew looks much the same, grinning as he sways and flips his hair from one side to the other. And, oh, his hand is on your thigh, when did that happen? 

Quietly, he asks, “Is this okay?” 

You have to look away and clear your throat in an attempt to collect yourself. “Yeah, yes, that’s…perfectly fine.” 

He grins brightly, earnestly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.” 

Once again, his forthrightness has you stumbling. “And you are an adorable and very flirty drunk.

Andrew gives you a lopsided grin as he shrugs one shoulder. “What was it Karen said? Mischievous and misbehaving?”

“So there’s merit to that, then?” 

“Well, it’s not as fun if I just tell you outright, is it?” 

Ah, so he’s going to play this game, throwing your own words back at you in an attempt to fluster you further. To be fair, his plan is working as your face burns all the way to the tips of your ears. But, you can’t let him know that he’s winning. This is an unspoken competition now, the defiance and playfulness in his expression urging you to make your next move.

So, you do. He’s stunned when you reach out to cup his chin in one hand. The touch is light, gentle, but it’s enough to stop him in his tracks and stare at you incredulously. 

“Well, I think you’re a lot of talk and no action.” When he doesn’t respond, you smirk. “Is this all it takes to shut you up?” 

After a beat, he finally opens his mouth, still staring at you with glazed eyes. “I can think of more lucrative ways to do so.”

You can’t help the cackle that escapes you. “Lucrative for who, exactly?”

He shrugs again. “Both of us, I’d guess. I’d hope.” A pause. “You know…we’re staying at the Grafton tonight. Figured it was better to play it safe with Miss ‘Doesn’t Know When to Quit’ over there.” 

When you turn back, you spot Karen standing on the bar just inside, waving her arms around excitedly as a bartender tries to coax her down. “I see what you mean.”

“I’ve got my own room,” he continues casually, as though your heart isn’t about to beat through your fucking chest. “If you’d like to see it. Lovely hotel, and the room has an even lovelier view. Though, I can’t imagine anything quite as lovely as you.”

The laugh that escapes you makes him laugh in return, covering his face and shaking his head as he cries, “That was terrible, I’m so sorry. It came out, and I instantly regretted it. So fucking corny. Jesus Christ.” 

Some of the tension dissipates as you smile fondly while he tries to recover from his horrible flirting. 

“You really are terrible at this,” you jest. “However…I can’t deny that I’m a little curious about this room with a view. But, won’t Karen be upset if you leave her birthday bash?”

Andrew chuckles. “I doubt she’ll even remember at this point.” 

After a quick text to his mates and a message to Mason, you find yourself walking the few blocks it takes to get to the Grafton Hotel. You’re surprised when Andrew takes your hand into his despite the fact that he’d mentioned not being the biggest fan of public affection. 

There’s some plausible deniability as you use the opportunity to ensure you’re both drunkenly stumbling on the pavement instead of the road, tugging on his hand to keep him close until he wraps his arm around your shoulders entirely. In return, you slip your arm around his waist and try to stay in stride with him while the hotel glitters like a beacon in the night. 

After a piss-poor attempt at acting “natural” while shuffling through the opulent lobby, you stumble into an empty elevator. As soon as the doors close, he’s on you, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you fervently—a testament to his restraint on the walk over here, surely. 

Then, he pulls away just as suddenly, eyes wide as an apology spills out. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—I mean, I should have asked first before—” 

You hold a hand up to shush him. “I’m a relative stranger you picked up from a club following you up to your hotel room. While I appreciate the thought, kissing is definitely not an issue.” 

The room itself is quite nice, and he wasn’t joking about the view. The city twinkles warmly far below, bustling with a lot more traffic than one might expect for a Thursday night. If you were so inclined, you might suggest sitting out on the balcony for a while just to enjoy the breeze. An idea for another time, perhaps, should Andrew ever want to do this again. (You cringe inwardly at the spark of hope within you that maybe he will.) 

When you look back at him, Andrew is watching you carefully, wringing his hands and shifting his weight. 

“Are you okay?” 

He laughs awkwardly. “Yeah! I just…I don’t normally do this, y’know? Hooking up isn’t really…”

“Oh.” You frown. “We don’t have to—” 

“No, no, I want to, I’m just…at a loss of where to start. Also…” A pause. “If there’s anything you don’t want me doing in particular, please let me know.”

You can read between the lines. It’s his way of asking you to guide him through this for the sake of your comfort. It’s sweet, more thoughtful than some of your previous trysts, though you hope he doesn’t treat you so preciously the entire night. 

After a beat, you reach out to lightly grasp his wrist, smiling softly when he meets your eyes. 

“Why don’t you start by kissing me again, yeah?” 

At this, he can’t help his bright, flustered smile as he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s softer and sweeter this time as he holds your face, thumbs brushing through prickly stubble from a haphazard attempt at shaving earlier in the day. 

The taste of whiskey and ash is on his tongue, the smell of smoke sticking to his hair. You can almost feel his hesitance melt away as your fingers curl into his hair, as he leans into the kiss with a small whimper. A chill runs down your spine when he kisses along your neck, nipping lightly but not enough to leave any lasting mark. A honeyed laugh in your ear makes your face go hot, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your cock.

Impatient hands shove at his jean jacket until he’s struggling out of it and throwing it to the floor, revealing thin, pale arms with delicate wrists and prominent veins. You marvel at every sharp angle that’s juxtaposed by the softness of his chest, his stomach as you assist in pulling his t-shirt off. 

The only coherent thought in your mind isn’t a thought at all, but the primal urge to bite and mark and claim. 

Suddenly, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” and he halts his movements to look at you with wide eyes. 

“Fuck, I don’t. I didn’t exactly think I was going to hook up with anyone tonight.”

“Damn, neither do I,” you laugh, earning a cheesy, embarrassed smile from him as he shrugs. “No matter. There’s plenty of other things we can do.”

It’s easy enough to get his jeans off once he’s on his back in bed. It seems he’s beginning to understand that he is not the one in charge now, seems to even be delighting in his lack of control. He stares as you slowly undo his belt buckle, hands curled into the sheets beneath him as if it’s the only way he can stop himself from trying to reach out and touch you. With a few giggles and awkward kicks on his part, you finally toss his jeans to the floor. 

The outline of his swollen cock is obvious, tenting his black boxers and twitching slightly as you run your hands along his thighs. 

You startle when he asks, “Can I see you? You’re wearing far too much.”

And, well…how can you say no when he asked so politely? 

As soon as your shirt comes off, his eyes go wide and he blurts out, “Wow. That’s absolutely stunning. The Creation of Adam, yeah?” 

He studies your tattoo in fascination as you reply, “Yeah. It’s…a little on the nose, probably. Not the most original scar cover-up ever, but I’m happy with it.”

Andrew huffs a quiet laugh. “I can see how that might be on the nose, yeah. But, I really like it. For whatever that’s worth, I suppose.” 

He watches as you pull your jeans off and shuck them aside with the growing pile of clothing on the floor, leaving you in your own boxer briefs that make Andrew chuckle.

“Are those Halloween-themed? Mate…are you aware that it’s May?”

You roll your eyes as you finally crawl into bed, throwing a leg over him and settling on his hips. 

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t expect to hook up with anyone tonight either. Second, are you always this antagonistic towards your dates?”

Andrew grins. “Is this a date now?”

You bite out a laugh. “Christ, you are a sassy one.”

“Unfortunately, it’s part of the package deal. No returns or refunds.”

“What about an exchange?” 

“Mmm, no, sorry. I can offer you store credit?”

You tilt your head. “That implies that I’d be a returning customer.”

He blinks, swallows, his eyes flitting away nervously before looking back at you. “Well, you know, I’m big on…customer loyalty…and what have you…”

“Andrew,” you say with a smile and a shake of your head. “Do you want to keep bantering, or do you want me to blow you?”

He nods quickly. “Yeah, yes, that. Let’s do your idea.”

Kisses along his body make him squirm as he stares up at the ceiling in embarrassment. A hand pressed to the bulge in his pants pulls the prettiest sounds from him; the heat of your mouth against cotton, against his swollen length forces him to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his groans. You’re pleased by his reactions—you’ve always loved the vocal ones, and it makes sense that this one would be the most vocal of all. 

The trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband is slowly revealed to you as you peel back the fabric, pressing open-mouthed kisses along that line until his cock is exposed. It’s pretty—long, though not dauntingly thick, the tip already red and leaking despite the fact that you’ve done little to elicit this kind of response.

Eager, you think to yourself with a smirk. 

The first press of your tongue along the vein that protrudes just on the underside of his cock makes him gasp. He props himself up on his elbows to watch, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as you take the head into your mouth and suck gently.

He hisses as a hand curls into your hair, as you attempt to take the rest of him without choking or gagging. Your eyes water as you suck in a deep breath through your nose, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by his scent, dizzied by musk, and sweat, and arousal as you swallow him down.

It’s sloppy, messy as you put on a bit of a show in the hopes of impressing him. It seems that your plan is working out quite well as you meet his heavy-lidded gaze from beneath your lashes, and he groans before letting his head tilt back to reveal the expanse of his throat. 

“Feels so fucking good…” It comes out as a cracked whisper that breaks into a breathy moan as his fingers tighten their grip on your hair. 

You pull off of him with a lewd pop and stroke him as you catch your breath. When he looks back at you, his pupils are blown out, nearly eclipsing his irises. He already looks so wrecked, and you wonder just how quickly you can make this man completely fall apart. 

“Good?” you ask with a grin. 

“Yes, fuck, please don’t stop,” he whines. 

With a wink, you pause the movement of your hand long enough to spit onto his cock before stroking him again, faster this time as his hips buck into your hand. Andrew’s lets out a short, feverish laugh before whispering, “Fucking filthy.” It alights something in your brain—something warm and excited as his head falls back against the pillow again, seemingly no longer concerned with holding back as he thrusts into the warmth of your mouth when you take him again. 

Any semblance of composure is lost when you gently cup his balls, and he bites out a warning of his impending climax between heaving breaths. Determined, you allow him to nearly fuck your throat until he’s whimpering beneath you, hips snapping up until he he muffles a cry. The warmth of his release fills your mouth, slides down your throat, eyes watering as you continue your assault on him while he rides out every wave of pleasure that rolls through him. 

He looks wonderfully sated when he opens his eyes again, smiling when you sit up on your knees between his legs. 

“Wow,” he laughs as he rubs his eyes. “How am I supposed to follow that up? Jesus.”

You grin as you lean over him, your arms caging his head as you murmur, “With a smile and a thank you for the privilege.”

His mouth drops open for only a moment before he snaps it shut again. Then, a smirk as he asks, “Would you be amenable to doing it like this, then? I’m pretty sure all of my bones have turned to gelatin.”

You blink in surprise. “You…want me to sit on your face?”

Andrew shrugs. “Only if you want to. I’d say it’s a throne fit for a king, but that just seems egotistical, I think.” 

With a barked laugh, you reply, “Yeah, a bit, maybe. But, I love the enthusiasm.” 

You sit back up long enough to twist around and discard your own boxers. There’s a brief hesitance as you hype yourself up, that inkling of self-consciousness creeping in the way it always does before being on the receiving end of sex acts. It’s not dysphoria so much as it is the general nervousness of performance and expectation—the same feelings you’ve experienced far before beginning your transition journey. 

Andrew must notice this hesitation as he says, “Hey, we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want that.” 

“No, I want to, I’m just…are you sure?” It’s an out that you extend almost automatically, a way to protect yourself from rejection and hurt by providing an excuse for him to bail. You’re sure it says something about your own control issues, but you push the thought away to be dealt with later. 

With a soft sigh, he pats his chest and beckons you closer, saying, “C’mere so I can suck you off already.”

A warmth blooms in your chest as you cover your giddy embarrassment with a laugh. Shuffling on your knees, you move closer, pause, then straddle his face carefully, hovering just above him until his arms are locked around your thighs. 

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” 

Before you can reply, you feel his tongue on your cock, and you fall forward to brace against the headboard. 

“Oh,” is the only thing you manage to squeak out as he takes it into his mouth and begins sucking gently. Tears form in your eyes as pleasure shoots up your spine, teetering on the edge of too much as he works. You find yourself absentmindedly thrusting into the feeling, unable to hold back the moans and whines that bubble up. 

If he’s never done this before, then his mouth is truly gifted. His tongue teases just below the head, pressing gently as you whimper above him. Arousal slicks his mouth as he feasts on you like a starving man, and you curl a hand into his hair to encourage him further. A slight tug pulls a strangled moan from him, his grip tightening on your thighs as though he’s worried you might try to get away. 

He pulls away briefly to catch his breath, licking his shining lips as he asks, “Are you okay with—? Do you like being touched?”

You understand his meaning almost immediately. “Yes, please, fuck.”

One hand releases your thigh, and suddenly two fingers slip into you with ease. You choke on a moan as you push back against them. Your brain and body struggle then, trying to decide between pushing into that pressure as he fills you or grinding against his face. Heat begins to build in your abdomen. Every thrust of his fingers and swipe of his tongue brings you closer and closer to that edge. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” you pant out. 

All it takes is an errant thumb against your ass, and you’re suddenly falling over the edge, shaky thighs attempting to snap shut as you gasp and cry out. Andrew keeps you in place, doesn’t allow you to move as continues sucking your cock while you clench around him. Expletives fall from your lips mixed with his name, and you nearly choke on a sob as you smack at the top of his head with a breathy, “Stopstopstop, fuck, too much, too much.” 

Andrew stops immediately and withdraws his fingers with a chuckled apology. Once he’s released his grip on you, you gently fall onto your back next to him. 

“Wow,” you breathe, looking over to grin at him. 

“Decent?” he asks. His smug look tells you he knows exactly how well he did. 

You roll your eyes and give him a gentle shove to his shoulder. “I’m afraid if I answer that honestly, you won’t be able to fit your giant ego through the door.” 

There’s a part of you that expects him to rush you out, but Andrew doesn’t really seem inclined to do so. Instead, he invites you to scoot beneath the duvet with him, lying on your side to face him as he mirrors your position. 

Then, he’s asking questions, probing into your likes and dislikes, your favorite music, favorite films, favorite books. Andrew nods along as you speak, eyes wide in an expression you’d liken to veneration. You return his questions in kind, delighted by the way he seems to light up when discussing his musical interests throughout his childhood and adolescence, and his proxy interest in film thanks to his brother. 

A chime on your phone breaks the warm bubble of your conversation, and you groan as you reach back to grab it from the bedside table. 

Mason

HEY DICKHEAD

DID YOU FUCKIN IRISH GOODBYE ME

IN IRELAND

AS AN IRISH MAN

You

Sure did mate.

Mason

JUDAS

Can’t believe this

I HOPE THE DICK WAS WORTH IT

I want details tomorrow you fuckin scut

“Something wrong?” Andrew asks hesitantly. 

You look up at him and shake your head with a little laugh. “Nah, just my roommate being…my roommate. Took him this long to figure out that I’d even left.”

“Oh…do you have to go, then?” There’s something so sweet about the sullenness in his voice, evoking an image of Eeyore in your mind. 

“I don’t.” You shake your head. “I can stay as long as you’ll allow it.” 

“Careful now,” he says easily as he reaches out to run the back of his fingers against your cheek. “Otherwise you may never be rid of me.” 

[wilhelminyard]

y'all seemed to like this so here are more moments but the christmas edition :

• andrew and neil, for the longest time, never decorate their house for christmas because honestly who gives a shit? neither of them is big on holidays and decorating the whole house only to take everything down in a few weeks seems more of a hassle than anything else. so they just don't. until one year, it's their turn to host the annual christmas dinner with the rest of the foxes and nicky and allison almost faint when they find out andrew and neil didn't even get a tree. they both turn up to the house with enough decoration to make it look like santa's personal workshop. andrew flat out refuses to help but allison manages to convince neil to give her a hand with the christmas lights on the roof because she needs someone there to make sure she doesn't die and she doesn't trust nicky. nicky feigns offense but he'd rather not be out in the cold anyway so neil goes. when it's done, allison drags everyone outside to watch when they turn on the lights and when she does andrew can see neil's eyes lighting up with childlike wonder. then suddenly neil is more involved. he puts a wreath on the front door, ornaments on the tree and more lights anywhere he can. andrew mumbles something about the electric bill but neil seems so fascinated by this stupid tree in their living room that the next year, around christmas time, andrew puts stupid tiny christmas hats on the cats and even more stupid stockings with their goddamn initials and jersey numbers on them near the fireplace. then he drags aaron with him to buy a tree, threatens to cut his tongue off if he says anything and almost dies on the spot when neil comes home and looks at him with his oh-so-blue eyes filled with that same childlike wonder he had the year before and andrew vows to turn his house into a goddamn christmas tree forest if he has to as long as he can see that look in neil's eyes every year for the rest of his life.

• it turns out that andrew is incredibly good at giving presents. but he'll never admit it to anyone, ever. let alone the foxes. only neil is aware of this, because he never knows what to give people and has to ask andrew for help. so matt never found out that when neil was his secret santa that one year, the incredibly thoughtful gift he got was actually andrew's idea. neil is the one who has to be sujected to matt's overwhelming affection and tight hugs, meanwhile andrew's secret and his 'annoyed by the entire idea of christmas and gift giving' reputation is probably safe considering he bought aaron a "medical terminology for dummies" book. a win-win situation if you ask him.

• nicky gives them matching ugly christmas sweaters "with the coats and the armbands I figured that since you guys love to match so much we might as well make it fun for once". neil wears his immediately, unbothered, but andrew refuses to put this bright colorful piece of garbage on his body. not even his corpse would allow it, he'd come back from the dead and punch nicky in the face if he got anywhere near him with this atrocity. then neil says something about how andrew claims to be the one with the fashion sense out of them both but nowadays neil goes shopping with allison while andrew still wears the exact same black shirts he wore back in college and he finishes with "but you know I get it, it's hard to compete with your black-on-black aesthetic". andrew puts the sweater on just to spite him. kevin takes a picture and andrew strongly considers murder.

• for obvious reasons, it turns out neil has never watched a christmas movie when he was younger. matt believes this is blasphemy. he sits neil down for a movie marathon. matt can only stare in disbelief when neil ends up saying stuff like "you know what marvin and harry are actually pretty lucky because if it had been me instead of kevin mccallister I would have just shot them both" and "if you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is NOT all around but you know what is? the mafia." but other than that it was a pretty successful afternoon in matt's opinion.

• dan ropes them into a gingerbread house-building competition one year. andrew usually makes it his personal mission to avoid any and all festive activities but he agrees to participate in this one mainly because he wants to beat aaron. aaron is frustrated when he realizes that andrew's house is, in fact, better than his. aaron's keep falling apart for some reason. but he is the doctor out of the two of them, he is supposed to be the one with the steady hands so how the hell is he losing to an exy goalie whose hands are mainly used to punch people in the face when the sport gets too rough? what he doesn't realize is that when he looks away every time neil is trying to rile him up by just being his usual annoying self, andrew eats the foundations of his house. work smarter not harder.

[ninyard]

Okay I’m back I’ve mapped out how the whole night we met/binghampton riot scene would play out

* Song starts *

Instrumental - Riot starts, thrown bottle, foxes fighting

I am not the only traveler

→ Neil struggling, getting pushed into Lola’s car

Who has not repaid his debt

→ foxes getting on the bus, busted up

I’ve been searching for a trail to follow/take me back to the night we met

-> Andrew realizing Neil is missing from the bus and making his way back out the door. It would be cool if in this scene there was like a ghost image of them on the bus together somewhere behind Andrew.

Then I can tell myself

→ Neil in lolas car

What the hell im supposed to do

→ andrew outside looking for Neil

Then I can tell myself

-> Lolas car again, artsy shot of handcuffs, knife, dashboard lighter

Not to ride along with you

-> Foxes at the hospital, artsy shot of bandages, casts, bruises, gowns, hospital equipment

I had

All → flashback to them kissing

Most → flashback to Neil breaking the deal

Some → flashback to “you were amazing”

none -> shot of just Neil’s duffle on the ground with andrew standing behind it, focus moves from bag to Andrew’s face

Take me back → flashback to Andrew picking Neil up at the airport

Don't know what I'm supposed to do

-> scrolling through Neil’s phone to find the countdown, focus on the Baltimore area code

Take me back to the night we met

→Andrew telling Neil where he can touch him

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

-> frenzied shots of Neil in lola’s car: Artsy shots of Burns, blood, swirching cars INTERMIXED with shots of the Drake Incident

When you had not touched me yet

-> Neil covering andrew with a blanket at the Hemmick House

Oh, take me back to the night we met

->Andrew touching Neils scars, the shot of Neil saying Abram

Music fades out to “Baltimore area code?” And the “You were always going to lose him” line/reveal from kevin, music rushes back in to:

All - Neil asking Andrew to shut the goal down, “Anything” (kevin in frame)

most -kevin and Neil at night practice, andrew watching

some - kevin handing Neil the boarding pass for evermore

None - Andrew choking Kevin

Take me back to the night we met

-Doesn’t mean i wouldn’t blow you (Kevin has to be slightly in frame in this shot do you see the vision?)

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

->never before seen kissing footage

Haunted by the ghost of you

-> Kevin’s holding his throat, the foxes all staring at Andrew

Take me back to the night we met

-> THE meet cute of all time: the racket hit in Millport

Instrumental out

—> Neil unconscious and beaten up in the back of the car

the “you were always going to lose him” moment PLEASEEEEE

neil covering him with the blanket too oh man this has only just made the fact that i’m never gonna see this so much worse because there’s so many points in this that i want to see on screen SO BADLY

i can see all of it so clearly and it’s just devastatingly good

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hiii, could we get some vampdrew please? :D

WIP Wednesday (2/12) | Vampire Andrew AU (Part 217)

NEIL

When Neil wakes to a head stuffed with cotton and his limbs full of lead, he takes it as a sign that he'd overdone it in practice the day before and vows to never do it again. He knows he'll break that vow the next time he steps onto the court, but he at least pretends for a few moments. Then his brain comes online and he registers a pair of arms wound around his middle. That plus a presence at his back sends him down a completely different train of thought.

If arms are around him, his mother is alive. He's in her bed. They're running.

Had it all been a dream? A nightmare? Were they really okay?

Opening his eyes proved harder than working his mouth, so Neil gives a croaked, "Mom?"

He's not sure what he expected, but a man's gentle laughter wasn't it. "Not quite, hon."

Neil wrenches away from the sound, from the body behind him, and with Herculean effort manages to peel his eyes open. Before he can get very far, the arms catch him just shy of him falling out of the bed onto his face. Neil claws at them until they let go, then lands with a thud on a hideous rug. The fall does nothing to help the now pounding in his head, Neil shuts his eyes and counts to ten, hoping things will make sense when he opens them.

"Jesus. Fuck. What do you have against my arms?" whines that same voice, now from above him. Things finally click into place and Neil thankfully doesn't have to bother to look up. It's Nicky's voice. Nicky Hemmick, PSU Foxes, backliner. Teammate, annoyance, and now captor?

"What did you do to me?" Neil's voice is like gravel as he forces the sentence out. When he coughs to clear his throat it feels like he's swallowed razor blades and the room starts spinning. He ignores it. "What did I say last night?"

"Nothing." Nicky says with a bit of hurt in his voice that Neil ignores. "And nothing. But boy we fucking tried. I don't even wanna know how much dust Andrew ended up giving you. If it was as much as I thought, you wouldn't be able to move right now so he must've held back. Good for you and our bank account."

It doesn't feel like Andrew held back. Neil wonders if he ever has in his life. He lies there for another thirty seconds before risking it all to move up onto his hands and knees. The move makes his stomach roil, but he manages it then sits back on his knees to glare at Nicky who's propped on his elbows looking down. Before either of them can say anything— or before Neil can put his fist through Nicky's face— he hears footsteps approaching from behind him.

He grabs the nearest object to throw toward the new arrival, but sadly it doesn't hit. Neil looks over in time to see Aaron sidestep his attack and an alarm clock smashes against the door frame. Neither of them pays it any mind.

"Good morning to you too." Aaron says with a roll of his eyes.

[samoony]

CHRISTMAS WITH THE FOXES

Neil sat quietly in the corner of the dorm lounge, the scent of cinnamon and hot cocoa filling the air. The lounge was transformed into a cozy Christmas haven, with twinkling string lights draped across the walls, a small faux tree glowing in the corner, and a pile of mismatched gifts under it. For someone who had never celebrated Christmas before or had good memories of it, Neil felt as if he’d stumbled into a scene from one of the holiday movies that nicky insisted on playing on the screen.

The foxes bustled around, chatting and laughing, their festive sweaters adding splashes of color to the room. Andrew gave him small glances every once in a while from across the room, where he was helping set up the snacks(and eating some to). when Neil caught a glance, he returned a small smile, his nerves buzzing. He wasn’t used to being part of celebrations, and the warmth of it all felt almost overwhelming.

“Okay, everyone!” Dan called, clapping her hands. “It’s Secret Santa time!”

The group gathered in a semi-circle in the floor while others on the couch, and the first gift was handed out. Laughter and thanks bounced around as each person unwrapped their presents. When it was Neil’s turn to receive a gift, he hesitated, his awkwardness creeping in. Renee handed him a neatly wrapped box with a grin.

“It’s from me,” she said, sitting back to watch his reaction.

Neil carefully unwrapped the paper, his fingers trembling slightly. Inside was a photo frame, simple yet elegant, and within it was a picture of him and Andrew from earlier that year, both blushing while holding hands and neil being with a huge grin in his face. His throat tightened. It was such a thoughtful gift, yet he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Thank you, Renee,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere. “This… this is really nice.”

Renee smiled warmly. “I thought you might like it. You and Andrew look good in that photo.”

Andrew leaned over and whispered, “Told you it would be nice.” referring to the talk they both had before because neil kept insisting he didn't need presents.

As the gifts continued, Neil’s heart raced. It was his turn to give his gift now, and his nerves peaked. He reached under the tree and pulled out a neatly wrapped box, slightly larger than most of the others. He walked over to Aaron, who was sitting with a curious expression.

“Uh… This is for you,” Neil said, handing the box over.

Aaron raised an eyebrow but still said “Thanks, Neil.”

The room fell silent as Aaron unwrapped the gift. As the paper fell away, revealing an iPad and a digital pen, gasps rippled through the room. Aaron’s jaw dropped.

“Neil,” Aaron said, his voice almost a whisper. “This is… This is a lot, I—why?”

Neil fidgeted, looking down at his hands. “I… I know you’re studying medicine, and I thought it might help. For your notes and stuff. I just… wanted to get you something useful.”

The foxes erupted in surprised murmurs, and Nicky turned to Neil with wide eyes. “Neil, how did you afford this? You spent all your money last year on Andrew's car—”

Neil shrugged sheepishly. “I took on small jobs here and there, saving bit by bit. It wasn’t much.”

For a moment, everyone was silent, absorbing Neil’s words. Then, as if on cue, they all surged toward him, enveloping him in a massive group hug.

“You’re the sweetest person ever, Neil!” Allison exclaimed.

“Seriously, thank you, that was really nice of you” Aaron said, his voice cracking slightly with gratitude.

Neil, squished in the middle by the foxes, felt warmth spread through his chest. For the first time, he truly felt what Christmas was about—not only the gifts, but the love and joy shared among those who cared about each other...home.

And as Andrew leaned in to kiss his temple, Neil couldn’t help but think that this was the best Christmas anyone could ever ask for.

[allfortheslay25]

hey queen... i know youve prob alr got this but can we have fem andreil in who framed andrew fox

Have a couple doodles wips cuz I was too lazy to clean up the sketches

[neilljcsten]

aftg prompt: something with andrew hacking and coughing bc he smokes sm but acting like he’s fine and normal

ouuu ty!! let me know what you think :)

Objectively, Neil knew Andrew needed to stop smoking. Except the acrid smell of a burning cigarette was something so deeply Andrew, that Neil had no idea how to get him to stop. They were well past making deals so he couldn't pull the same stunt he did with cracker dust (he also couldn't buy him another maserati - Stuart would kill him) and he wouldn't trivialize whatever "this" was by giving Andrew an ultimatium. So he watched.

He watched Andrew gradually turn into something of a chain smoker over the summer. If there wasn't a racquet in the man's hand, it was a cigarette. It took him until September to piece together why; Aaron's trial was set for October and the twins had started meeting with Aaron's lawyer in June. Kevin and Wymack had tried talking to Andrew and were both met with a blank stare. When Kevin tried again at night practice, Andrew threatened to break his own hand if Kevin brought it up again. The rest of the Foxes had picked up on the new tension between the two and did their best to stay out of it.

Things came to a head after their first game. Renee had to step in as dealer after Dan took a nasty hit and the new goalie sub wasn't up to Kevin's impossible standards yet, so Andrew played the full game. The stress of the season opener was only compounded by the possibility of Moriyama men watching from the sideline. There was a small chance there were there and an even smaller one that they'd act out against Neil or Kevin, but Andrew locked down the goal anyways.

When the final buzzer rang out, 11-0 in the Foxes' favour, Neil jogged over to meet Andrew in net. He was startled to find Aaron already there - he usually went right to the cheerleaders. Seeing Aaron rip off Andrew's helmet had Neil switching into a run. He heard Andrew before he got to the net and god he sounded awful. Andrew's body was shaking with each rattling cough he let out. Each one sounded like it was being ripped from his chest, deep and throaty. Aaron must've heard him coughing throughout the game. As a backliner he spent far more time closer to Andrew than Neil ever did as a striker. Neli flicked an alarmed glance at Aaron, who was watching his twin with a mixture of anger and concern. Even Andrew, ever calm, seemed distressed at his body's betrayal as another cough shook his frame. Neil shifted to stand beside Andrew, allowing the goalie to lean into him for support. His legs screamed at the added weight but he would carry it a hundred times over if it meant taking some of the world off of Andrew's shoulders.

"You need to stop smoking." Aaron said in German.

It took Andrew a few tries to catch his breath in between coughs before he managed to bite out a hoarse "no" in response.

Aaron looked at Neil for help and found none. This was officially a Minyard argument. Neil had gotten in the middle of enough of those to know to stay out when he could.

"Listen to yourself. This was one game against a shit team. How do you expect to play the rest of the season if this is what happens?" Andrew's silence pushed Aaron to drive the knife deeper. "What happens when you can't play anymore because you've officially killed your lungs? Are Kevin and Neil going to be offed by the fucking mafia because our team has a shit goalie?"

Andrew's eyes, which had been roaming the crowd for anything to distract himself from Aaron's tirade, snapped back to glare at Aaron. Undetterred, Aaron pressed on.

"If you stop smoking, I'll stop dust. Deal?" Privately, Neil was shocked that Aaron would offer such a thing. Dust was the last drug he clung to from his past life and he downed it like a drowning man every Friday.

There was a brief pause before Andrew spoke.

"Deal."

--

The next morning Neil found 5 boxes of cigarettes in the dorm's garbage can. He picked up a few niccotine patches and pints of ice cream on his run, placing the latter in the freezer when he returned. If half of the pints were Aaron's favourite flavour, he pretended not to notice.

[otdiaftg]

The Foxhole Court - Chapter Five

Day: Sunday, June 11th (*Sunday, June 9th in TFC) Time: 3:45 PM EST

Across the room Kevin's face went white. "What did you call me?" "I called you a deadweight has-been," Neil said. Kevin was out of his chair so fast he knocked it over. Neil backed out of the room and slammed the door closed between them. He'd only made it two steps back toward his room when Kevin yanked the door open again. Kevin got his hands on Neil's neck in an instant and slammed Neil up against the opposite wall. Neil dug his fingers into Kevin's wrists, trying to loosen Kevin's grip enough that he could breathe. He tried to knee Kevin, but Kevin crushed him against the wall with his own body. "What the fuck did you call me?" Kevin demanded again. Neil didn't have the breath to answer. It didn't matter; Kevin's angry voice and the loud smack of Neil's body against the dormitory's concrete walls was enough to fill the hall with Foxes. Andrew was the first to show up in the cousins' doorway, but Matt was the one who went for Kevin. He wrapped an arm around Kevin's throat and wrenched Kevin's head back at a dangerous angle. "Get off him, Day," Matt snarled.

Kevin let go of Neil with one hand and drove an elbow into Matt's ribs. Matt grunted and tightened his grip, forcing Kevin to release Neil entirely if he hoped to breathe anytime soon. Matt hauled Kevin away from Neil, but Kevin wiggled free two steps later and swung at Matt. Matt deflected it with one swipe and punched Kevin hard enough to send him sprawling. The look on Matt's face said he was just getting started, but Andrew stepped between them before Matt could go after Kevin again. Andrew was smiling and his stance was casual, but Matt knew better than to try his luck.

Art used with permission by Lnmei! Thank you SO much @lnmei !

*In The Foxhole Court, Nora wrote the date as Sunday, June 9th which would be inaccurate to the dates stated, both previously and later on in the story. I have changed it after researching which date would be more accurate to the story and current time frame.*

[jtl-fics]

May I propose: ex boyfriends au. Neil and Andrew go back in time per usual, but they arrive together at the beginning of Neil's recruitment to palmetto. They agree that for now, they should keep it low key and not change much in fear of making the future worse. But, they come to find out that repeating your life exactly the same way is BORING. So, they decide to spice it up a bit. In order to explain their familiarity to the foxes, they create this awfully dramatic backstory full of twists and betrayals, where neil met Andrew while he was with Cass and then Andrew did something to land them both in Juvie, and maybe in juvie they betrayed each other or smthn. All of its fake but the foxes eat it up. Neil and Andrew even incorporate song lyrics that haven't been made into fake arguments that they have for fun (strawberry ice cream in Malibu don't act like we didn't do that shit too) and the foxes fully believe that they're ex boyfriends. But even they can't fully hide the affection they have for each other and when that bleeds through the fixes think they're witnessing the best second chance trope when in reality they're just fucking around

This is such a funny concept.

I am going to add one thing though. In this AU Neil and Andrew made it all the way to their 90s. They went to sleep in their bed old, in love, and happy together. They've both been getting more and more tired lately, they know what's coming. They've seen it with their friends. It's fine, whatever the next step is they're going to go together. If one leaves a little early, well they've had years to get patient while waiting for the other to catch up.

They pass together and their great grand nephew (Kevin's) finds them the next morning (he'd been staying with them to help with a few things. They're holding hands.

They find themselves in the immediate aftermath of Andrew having driven an Exy racquet into Neil's stomach. There's a moment where Andrew truly panics because "OH FUCK, WHAT IF I RUPTURED HIS COLOSTOMY BAG?" and then oh he never really forgot how Neil looked (Neil had been the one that needed the reminders about things) but seeing his husband at 18 with brown hair, wire thin frame, and brown eyes? It throws him off even if he'd know Neil no matter what hair color or eye color.

Kevin comes up and it's been almost 10 years since he'd died but he's there young, no liver spots, and with a 2 on his face again.

They have long been able to talk to one another without a single word. Now that Andrew's face has full range of motion again (partial stroke 3 years before) it's even easier.

"So this is where you ran off to?" Andrew demands.

"Oh, like I had a choice after what you pulled!" Neil shoots back.

Cue two old fucks who are now in the prime of their life bodies and when they lost a lot of their mobility with age the thing they had most loved to do was fuck with their numerous grand nieces and nephews (I am stating right here that every fox who has a kid FULLY views Andreil as uncles so it does not matter if there is a blood relation).

Neil and Andrew rarely need to lie about the shit they've gotten up to, it just hasn't happened yet. They only make it like 2 weeks MAX pretending like they're mad at one another. They've slept in the same bed holding hands for 70 years. They don't do well when they're separated and Andrew is on that god awful medication but this time they know the medical expert who can argue about how BAD this whole shit show is and they know the lawyer to hire. Neil might dip heavily into his stash money but they know more than enough to make that cash back.

Andrew off his meds almost a whole year early via an outpatient treatment.

Still they keep referencing some insane past. "I'll say sorry for getting us thrown in Juvie when YOU apologize for lighting the car on fire in the first place!" he huffs.

"Then I guess we're at a standstill."

These arguments are had while they are absolutely all over one another because a bunch of parts of theirs just WORK again and that's super fun for both of them. They seem like Seth & Allison 2.0 with 8x the history but Neil makes Andrew act like a human and not a monster so they're all very invested in the relationship working out.

This past is also NEVER elaborated on but they never fuck up the fabrication of it either. Andrew because his perfect memory and Neil because even decades later he is a super tier liar.

They're having fun, it's sort of like being back with all their grand nieces and nephews except it's all of their friends (+Seth). The Original Foxes were long used to Neil & Andrew's shit so it was impossible to mess with them like this.

They're going to have a blast.

Edit: Thanks @the-inner-musings-of-a-worm for the fun idea once again!

[itscloudsocks]

Kevin and Oakley pt. 1

Looking back, Kevin really doesn´t know how he´s still alive. College has been a total shitshow; Kevin can see that now, almost seven years after graduating. Some of the stuff Neil pulled definitely should've gotten them killed. But hey, Kevin is not one to complain, he´s not sure where he would´ve been without the Foxes. Feeling sentimental, Kevin drops his phone on the counter and turns towards his cup of coffee. Every now and then he misses college - not the classes or the campus life, but the quiet evenings he spent with Neil and Andrew on the couch or the shopping trips with Matt, Allison and Nicky.

Now, all of the foxes are spread out in the world: Nicky is in Germany with Erik and their son, Aaron and Katelyn are both hard at work saving people, Dan and Matt are back in Palmetto, raising their kids while Dan has taken over a little leagues team, Renee is with the peace corps and Allison is somewhere in New York. Andrew and Neil live in and play for Michigan, they´ve just bought a house a few years ago and are living the successful-partners dream. And then there´s Kevin.

At 30 years old he´s still living alone. He has nothing besides Exy and the cream coloured hunk of a cat currently laying ontop of his fridge. She's been given as a present from Neil and Andrew who had blatantly lied when telling Kevin that the little kitten probably wouldn't get that big. Now, two years later she´s outgrown most cat beds he bought and prefers sleeping on his spare pillow on his bed. That doesn´t change the fact that Kevin, despite everything, loves her to pieces.

“Get down there, lady, you´ve already had breakfast.”

Lady just blinks at him, meows and lazily takes a swing in his general direction, missing by miles. With a sigh, Kevin puts his cup away and raises his arms towards her, quietly asking her to get down from the fridge. She in return reaches for his hand and starts nibbling on his finger. Defeated, Kevin accepts his fate and stays where he is standing, hand raised and with his coffee just out of reach. Instead, he lets his eyes wander, taking in the boxes of tupperware and kitchen utensils still unpacked and waiting in a corner of the room.

Kevin moved almost a year ago but for some reason he doesn´t dare to fully unpack. The breakup with Thea happened just shortly after he had graduated, just three months after he had moved in with her. It´s been a sudden, painful event; Thea had ripped the bandaid off but didn´t think of Kevin´s attachment issues. Moving back in with his father and Abby at 25 definitely was not something Kevin expected to happen.

Lady´s sharp teeth digging into the palm of his hand finally rips Kevin out of his thoughts for long enough to get moving. Scolding his cat gently, he pulls his hand away, offering once more to get her down. When she doesn´t react, he leaves her in favor of finishing his coffee and getting ready to leave his home-not-hom.

Reaching for the electric razor sitting on the little ledge beneath the mirror, Kevin shaves off the shadow of stubbles covering his cheeks. He's pretty sure he could grow a decent beard if David´s beard is anything to go by, but it´d be a change he´s not ready for yet. Changes in general are not something Kevin likes to go through, especially alone. Back in college it has been easier because there´s always been someone to catch him in one way or the other but now he's alone and away from his family so changes in any shape or form are something he turns away from.

His hair has gotten longer again - it´s time for a haircut - but the strands of dark hair framing his face take some of the attention from the tattoo beneath his eye so he might just leave it. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, Kevin deems himself presentable enough for practice. Today´s gym day anyways and the rest of the team doesn´t pay him too much attention so he doesn´t bother putting his hair back in something neater than a low ponytail before getting dressed in sweatpants and the blue and grey jersey of the Chicago Scorpions. His gym back is already packed and waiting in the hallway. Lady apparently considers this a pillow worthy enough for her majesty to lay on because she´s curled up inside the bag, tail hanging over the edge and large head resting on her crossed front paws.

“I can´t take you with me, you know that. I´ll be back in the afternoon, promise.” Lady just purrs and rubs her head against the towel she´s laying on, making Kevin soft enough to kneel down and rub her ear. The low rumble coming from her chest instantly make Kevin´s shoulders lose the unnoticed tension holding them up.

“I know sweetheart.” Kevin would die on the spot if anyone heard him right now. “I´ll be back before you know it.”

Kevin knows that once he´s out of the door, Lady almost instantly curls up somewhere and just sleeps until he´s back, but leaving his silky soft sweetheart behind, even if just for a few hours, leaves him feeling restless and on edge. With an aching heart he scoops Lady up in his arms, lightly rubs his cheek against her head before letting her back down on the ground. Before she can slip back into his gym bag, he zips it closed and lifts it up over one shoulder.

“Behave, you know the rules.”

Lady meows an answer, rubs around his legs while he slips in to his shoes and sits next to the door until it closes in front of her.

The drive over to the gym is a relatively quick one, traffic is bad but Kevin knows to leave a bit earlier just to get through it. Once he enters the gym through the court entrance, he´s immediately greated by warm, sticky air, laughter and Dalton´s obnoxiously loud music. The urge to turn around and just call in sick is quickly suffocated at it´s root when Dalton notices Kevin, drops the ropes he´s been holding and comes over. He´s already sweaty and gross, grinning while out of breath, and wraps an arm around Kevin´s shoulder, pulling him in close to squish their cheeks together.

“Kevin, light of my life. Oh how I´ve missed you, my-”

“Shut the fuck up,” grumbles Kevin, rolling his eyes while slapping Dalton´s hand away. “You stink.”

“And you´re late,” Dalton notices.

“I´m perfectly on time. It´s not my problem you´re addicted to lifting weights.”

“You can just admit your jealousy, Day.”

“Jealous of what? Your inability to buy normal shirts? I don´t think so.”

Snorting, Dalton shrugs and pats Kevin´s shoulder.

“Go get changed so you can spot me.”

Shaking his head, Kevin wanders off into the locker rooms to change into his gym clothes. While he´s warming up, the rest of the team slowly sneaks in, all holding varying phases of sleepiness in their slumped shoulders and sleep-swollen eyes. Their coach doesn´t usually join their gym sessions, trusting Isaac Wilson - team captain and kind of a jerk - to take attendance and take care of the rest. Wilson, of course, is nowhere to be seen. If he joins them at all, he´ll be late and most likely take the list of attendance he forced Nellie Jakobsen to check off.

Nellie is too new - and too kind - to be able to say no to Wilson and Wilson is too much of a dickhead to not take advantage of that. Speaking of the devil, Nellie steps up on the mat next to Kevin, reaches for a couple of weights and starts her exercises. Kevin continues his sit-ups, trying to not pay the young woman shooting him glance after glance any mind. It's not that easy though, when you're looking at the same mirror. At one point, Nellie must ́ve worked up the courage to say whatever there is to say because she turns, takes a little step towards Kevin and clears her throat.

“Uh…hi,” she smiles, her already rosy cheeks only deepening in colour.

“Hey,” replies Kevin, coming to a pause in his movements. “What´s up?”

“Uh…Chase and my sister and I wanted to go to the history museum later today and Dalton mentioned that you like history so we - I uh, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to join us?"

Blinking, Kevin tried to organize her nervous mumbling into understandable sentences in his head. Chase is Nellie's cousin and he's never met her sister in his life. He doesn't like meeting new people, he doesn't like going to places he's not been to before, not without planning and at least two days of overthinking it.

But then again, if Dalton knows about Nellie's plan, he'll annoy Kevin once he hears that Kevin said no. The fact that Kevin's social life is pretty much non-existent is already one of the biggest topic of Dalton's teasing, he doesn't need to pour gasoline into the fire.

Get out there Kevin. If it's no fun you can leave and if you're having a good time you can be even prouder of yourself to going through with it.

Of course Abby is the voice of reason in his head. Just because he can't say no to her.

"Uh...sure….yeah, sounds good."

[foxpile]

re: the mugshot post i gotta say as someone who's in the fanbase of irl people who have mugshots, the answer is 100% yes, that thing is affectionately put on signs, on posts, on tshirts. There'd be signs in the crowd captioned silly things like "so good it's a crime" or posts circulating like "Neil if it were illegal to be the best collegiate exy player [mugshot.png]" or jokes including them whenever one of the foxes gets a penalty. Infinite material, people WILL take advantage, great fun to be had by all

now this is exactly the answer i wanted to hear.

neil would 100% reblog any and all posts having to do with his mugshot. andrew uses his own (hell probably neil’s too tbh) as a reaction image at every opportunity. katelyn has a framed photo of aaron’s mugshot hanging directly as you walk in her front door. someone tweets about how renee is just a “boring little good girl” and nicky tweets back just a picture of her mugshot with nothing else attached in terms of context. the possibilities are endless.