#and the time andrew straight up told neil to take off his shirt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

willowbird · 3 years

Note

For the prompt game — could you do AU 1, trope 8, location 2 for Andreil? I always love reading these, thanks for sharing!

Grad School, return of the childhood best friend, inside Andrew's closet!!! Thank you so much for sending in the ask I'm glad you're enjoying the little ficlets and I hope you like this one too!

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Tall people were a curse. A blight on all of society. Civilization would undoubtedly crumble under the obnoxious stomping of their huge feet and the polar ice caps would melt at least in part due to the heat from their big fat heads.

Also, all the tall fuckers in Andrew's cohort were constantly putting things in places Andrew couldn't reach, especially when it came to the supply closet off of the office the group of them communally used. It had gotten to the point that Andrew had taken full command of the ordering and organization of all their supplies. Last month he had even gone so far as to print out and laminate a full-color sign for the closet that read: NO ONE ABOVE 5'3 PERMITTED. SEE ANDREW J MINYARD FOR ALL SUPPLY RETRIEVAL.

The only reason he'd given the extra few inches at all was because Robin, the undergrad TA that assisted in one of his classes, sometimes helped him out and she was a whole three inches taller than him. It was enough of a restriction that it barred the rest of his cohort from intruding, though, as even Renee was a solid 5'8.

Or at least, it should have been an effective restriction. Andrew had thought the rest of his team could read well enough to get the goddamn message. Then he showed up this morning and the fucking closet door was open and where was the box of printer ink he'd ordered last week?

That's right, on the top fucking shelf.

When Andrew figured out which idiotic fucking beanpole had decided to pull this shit with him there was going to be hell to pay. He would raid his cat's litter box for ammunition if he had to.

For the moment, though, he needed to replace the ink in both printers. Which was why he was balancing precariously on the arms of the only non-rolly chair on the goddamn floor, straining to reach the box of ink and quietly promising to take an extra dose of revenge out of each and every person over 5'3 if he fell.

Which he almost did when a sharp knock suddenly echoed a bit too loud from directly behind him.

"Jesus fuck what is wrong with y--" Andrew cut off abruptly as he looked over his shoulder to see who had dared come up behind him at a time like this. He blinked, then he fully closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. When the man before him was still fucking there, Andrew twisted slightly and jumped down, letting his ass hit the seat as he overbalanced on the landing.

"Um... hi."

It had been almost ten years since Andrew had heard that voice. Ten years. In that time Neil had gone from being a scrawny, anxious kid to... well...

Vivid blue eyes stared at him steadily, winged with eyeliner that only made them brighter. His dark russet-auburn hair was shaved close to his head on the sides but long enough on the top that he'd gathered it back in a loose bun, which only emphasized the perfect angles of his face and the soft give of his mouth, the way his chin carved down to a point as if to frame it, drawing the eye.

"Andrew? I didn't mean to surprise you. Well, I did, that's why I didn't tell you I was coming. I didn't mean to almost make you fall off a chair though..."

Neil clicked a tongue-piercing against his teeth. It flashed silver for a moment, matching the two bars that bisected his left eyebrow. Purple studs and a line of tiny hoops trailed up each ear.

Andrew stared, then he did the only rational thing and reached forward, grabbing the doorknob and slamming it shut with himself inside the closet.

His heart was fucking pounding, and he knew his face was flushed because, look. Look. Neil Josten at fourteen years old had been a scrawny kid with big ears and a chipped tooth that was always covered in bruises and Andrew had been so fucking in love with him. All he ever wanted to do as a baby gay was kiss Neil Josten. Thought about it all the time. But that had been off the table because Neil was his best friend and probably asexual and also literally trying to survive. When Neil moved to the other side of the fucking planet to be with his uncle, Andrew had told himself that this was a good thing because 1) Neil would be safe and 2) if there was distance between them then Andrew could finally get over him.

Over the last ten years they'd exchanged regular letters, but because Neil was a fucking technophobe and there may or may not have been an actual hit from actual hitmen and gangsters and shit on him over here in the states - they hadn't spoken on the phone and no pictures had been shared.

And now here was Neil. Almost twenty-four and... so so fucking hot.

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by a quiet, anxious, "Andrew..?" that sounded a lot more like the Neil Andrew remembered.

"Um... should I go? I'm sorry... I thought... I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry. I'll go..."

"No!" The word escaped him before he had time to really think about it. He was pretty sure his voice cracked a little in his desperation too. Shit. Andrew cleared his throat and tried again. "Just... wait. I.. need to get ink."

"Okay."

Andrew did his best not to read into the mystery in Neil's tone. Instead, he thanked the closet gods and carefully climbed back up onto the chair. Another couple of minutes later he had the ink he needed and was facing a coming out he really never anticipated having to go through. Coming out of the closet to your best friend was one thing. Coming out of the literal, actual closet you have shut yourself in to reunite with your super hot best friend that you've been in love with for over a decade at this point was quite another.

Ripping the band-aid off was really the only way to go, so Andrew took a deep breath, put his free hand on the knob, and opened the door.

Neil had repositioned himself and was now leaning against the nearest desk. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows exposing strong forearms decorated with swirls of dark ink. Three fingers on each hand bore rings (not the ring fingers, not that Andrew was specifically looking) and his nails were painted a dark, glossy gray. Around one wrist was a frayed bracelet that perfectly matched the one Andrew also wore on the same wrist.

As soon as Neil saw him, he lit up. A smile on his face that shined in his eyes, even if there was a slight hesitance to it - understandable considering Andrew had just.. you know... shut himself in a closet after seeing him.

"Hey... Sorry again, about that. I know you don't like to be startled. I just... I got excited."

Andrew swallowed, a tough feat with a throat so dry. Somehow, he managed a snort. "Like a puppy. Should I be worried about my floors, Josten?"

"I dunno, you gonna scratch me behind the ears?" Neil shot back, and the smirk that accompanied it was fucking devastating. That's is, Andrew gave up. He lost. Dead, he was dead. There was no way he was getting out of this one.

Andrew did the only thing he could do to keep himself from grabbing the little bastard and kissing him senseless, which was ask the big question hanging in the room between them.

"How are you here, Neil? I thought you'd never be able to come back to American soil."

Neil rubbed the back of his neck, like he was thinking of the best way to explain it. After a moment he said, "Uncle Stuart still doesn't think it's a great idea - but there's no price on my head anymore. As of last month we cleared out the last of... well, let's just call them the old bad guys. There are new bad guys, but they don't really care about me."

It took a moment for that to fully sink in. Andrew set down the ink on the desk and moved to stand directly in front of Neil. When Neil stood up straight, they were almost exactly the same height - Neil only really had a few inches on him. At least he hadn't been lying to make him feel better when he'd told him in a letter a few years back that he'd topped out at 5'3.

"So? Don't you have a whole new life over in jolly old England now? Friends and family who don't regularly try to kill you? Why come back at all?"

He knew why, but he wanted - he needed - to hear him say it.

"Yeah, but... they aren't you."

"Me."

"Yeah, Andrew. You."

Their eyes met. Something in Andrew's chest snapped like an overworked rubber band stretched too taut and all the carefully sequestered feelings it had been keeping at bay suddenly sprang forth like a tidal wave. They rushed through him, filling him up, buoying him until he probably could have reached the top shelf of that goddamn closet without the chair.

"I hate you," Andrew ground out. And Neil smiled, because he knew it wasn't true.

"I missed you, Andrew. I missed you so fucking much."

"Shut up, stupid." Andrew forced himself to take a deep breath, then he snatched up Neil's hand and started dragging him out of the office. "Come on. We're getting ice cream."

Neil laughed and squeezed his hand. "Some things never change."

No, Andrew thought, some things never do.

#asks #AFTG prompts #aftg fanfic #andrew minyard #neil josten #reunion fic #i will never pass up the chance to make an 'in the closet' joke #they are so in love #andrew minyard x neil josten #andreil

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psych0midget · 4 years

Text

Bookshop AU

Andrew had thousands of followers.

He wasn’t sure how it had started. He was the owner of a small independent bookstore and he regularly hit the gym. Nothing more, nothing less.

Or at least, that’s what his life mainly consisted of before Moriyamas opened a store right in front of his one. Moriyamas was one of the major book retailers in the USA, wherever it opened a store, the other bookshops of the area closed. Andrew’s own shop didn’t stand a chance.

That’s where Roland came in. It was just an off-handed comment, nothing anybody sane would ever take into account. But Andrew could not afford to close his shop, he had to pay the tuitio for Aaron’s med school.

Roland said: you’d definitely sell more books if you showed your abs to your costumers. The fact that Roland had said that while he was feeling Andrew up in the storeroom of Eden’s didn’t matter.

What Andrew did: he created an Instagram page. It was called ABS (AndrewsBookStore, you pervs). He posted photos of himself. And his books. The fact that he was often shirtless or wearing a skin-tight black t-shirt that showcased his muscles was secondary.

The descriptions under the photos mainly consisted of his book recs. Short. A bit caustic, but straight to the point. He never forgot to add a discount code. Any customer that walked into the store would get a 20% discount on the book Andrew had promoted if they showed him the ig photo and the code before paying. The fact that the words he used as codes were frequently outrageous just made the whole thing more fun.

Surprisingly, his ig page took off. Not only did he gain thousands and thousands of followers, but his revenue triplicated.

Nicky became a permanent fixture in the shop. Once an occasional aid during Christmas time, now he efficiently manned the register. Nicky flashed smiles at costumers who showed him Andrew’s photos to get a discount and was patient with those who blushed and stammered when asked to say the code word.

He had also hired Kevin, his roommate. And makeshift photographer who helped Andrew taking photos for Instagram. He’d probably have to hire someone else before November. But that was okay. The shop would not close.

The only price he had to pay was having to wear a tank top at work.

Neil was a simple bookshop clerk. At Moriyamas in Palmetto.

He loved books. A lot. Or else he wouldn’t work in a bookstore. And yet he hated the job. Hated the competitive work environment. Hated his boss Riko. Hated how things had changed since Kevin had left.

Pity that he needed the money.

One of the very few highlights of his days was the costumers. In particular, the costumers who mistook Moriyamas for ABS (they were both on Fox Avenue, but Moriyamas was at number 32 while ABS was at 23) and showed him one of the photos and said the discount code.

The first time it had happened, Neil had no idea what to do. An old lady had shoved her phone right into his face. On the screen a photo of a good looking blond man reading a book. He was lying on a bed, his face half covered with a copy of TSOA. The arm that was not holding the book was raised above his head, his well toned bicep on display. Neil knew his face was turning red. Redder than the cover of TSOA the costumer was brandishing.

Neil still had no idea what was going on, especially not when the lady started saying lewd words she claimed were the discount codes.

He called Jean for help. Jean calmly explained to the old lady that she was in the wrong bookshop, ABS was down the road, on the left.

Neil, who barely even knew what Instagram was before Jean told him, went home and downloaded the app. Created a profile and went looking for ABS’s account.

He found the photo the old lady had showed him that morning, the one with TSOA. Neil was a good liar but he rarely lied to himself. He could admit he noticed that Andrew’s t-shirt had ridden up a bit. He could admit he noticed the slip of exposed skin on his hip. He could admit he stared at it for almost half an hour. (Which was unusual to say the least)

Another thing Neil enjoyed were the book recs. Andrew Minyard had good taste and he knew what he was doing. He promoted both new books and classics, he put trigger warnings on them, his book recs were short and funny, his dark humour made Neil crack quite a few smiles.

Neil followed Andrew’s page and went to sleep.

In the following days Neil got more than one costumer mistaking Moriyamas for ABS.

Riko was getting tired of it. Instead of wiping out the competition, the Moriyamas shop of Palmetto struggled. And they struggled against a “stupid decrepit bookshop owned by a psychotic midget on steroids”. These were Riko’s words.

Neil had no idea how he ended up filming videos where he recced books while exercising. And wearing shorts. Oh and uploading them on Instagram.

Actually, he knew how he ended up doing that. It had something to do with Riko threatening to lay him off.

Moriyamas was copying ABS’s strategy and Neil was the unwilling accomplice.

Unsurprisingly, Neil quickly gained many followers. With the money Riko had invested in sponsoring his account, well, it was inevitable.

Neil was waiting for the day Riko would tell him to start wearing shorts at work (it took exactly 11 days and “Neil’s Legs” trending on twitter after he uploaded one of his videos)

Surprisingly, people followed him also for his book recs. He received hundreds of messages from people thanking him for the awesome books they read because of him. And in return they gave him other book recs. After all, Neil was happy with his Instagram.

Even more surprisingly, ABS (Andrew fucking Minyard) followed him.

Andrew was not sure why he followed Neil Josten.

Rationally, he knew he needed to keep an eye on the Moriyamas. He needed to do it for his own bookshop and for Kevin’s sanity. And that’s why he followed Josten.

His treacherous mind said it was also because Josten’s book recs were awesome. And so were Josten’s thighs. He’d be happy to be choked by them and suc- Wait, no. No. No. Let’s not get there.

Let’s start over again. His treacherous mind said it was also because Neil’s book recs were awesome. Damn him. Andrew had read some of the books Josten suggested just for the sake of it. He hoped they’d be shit, but fuck, Josten knew what he was doing.

Nevertheless, not much changed. Josten’s blog, or rather, the Moriyamas’ wasn’t a problem for Andrew. ABS was still doing great. Admittedly, Moriyamas’ discounts were higher than ABS’, but Andrew now had a number of loyal regular customers. His account was still doing great.

One night Nicky made him rewatch Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightly for the umpteenth time. The following day Andrew also reread book and decided to promote it. Who said he only had to talk about new releases on his account?

In the photo Pride and Prejudice was artfully placed (or so Kevin said) on his bicep. In the description box he said that P&J was the Classic par excellence, the Classic TM and that he hoped Jane Austen could forgive him for the photo.

Two days later Andrew was casually scrolling through instagram when he saw it. In the new video Josten was promoting Wuthering Heights. Because “people who say Pride and Prejudice is the best classic really have no taste”. The video featured Josten and a punch bag. It was gloriously rich in close ups of Neil’s butt.

This is how the cold war between ABS and Moriyamas began.

Andrew replied with Fight Club. The description said “Recommended for jocks who like throwing punches for no reason at all. The favourite book of white men TM who think they are Brad Pitt, but actually have the emotional depth of a spoon. Read at your own risk”.

Neil replied with The Catcher in the Rye. In the video he was doing squats. And panting into the microphone. Andrew might be wrong because he was too busy looking at Neil’s stupid face, but he was pretty sure Josten said something like “perfect if you’re looking for a book where the protagonist is a self-absorbed entitled brat” and “the true favourite book of white men TM”.

The video ended with “psa, if you ever meet someone who says that this is their favourite book, run.” And then Josten winked. He winked.

Fans quickly started noticing what Andrew and Neil were doing. Some talked about rivalry between bookshops, others inevitably started shipping them.

And yet Neil and Andrew kept their videos going on. They argued which book of Neil Gaiman was the best and which vampire saga the worst. It was a photo of Andrew lifting stacks of books. And then it was a video of Neil doing squats balancing a pile of books on each hand. It was Josten saying Aristotle & Dante was his favourite lgbtq+ book and Andrew answering that he’d never read it, but it couldn’t possibly be better than TSOA.

Andrew would never say it out loud but it was fun. He was having fun.

Andrew still suspected Josten kept on replying to his recs just to promote Moriyamas. Nothing more, nothing less. It was probably Riko who told him what to rec. Josten was a puppet.

Andrew should’ve known. But when Neil started reccing shitty books, Andrew was still a bit disappointed.

Week after week, the quality of Josten’s recs lowered. He was promoting mainstream books (but not the good mainstream books) and influencers’ rubbish biographies.

He was about to unfollow his blog when Josten slipped into his DMs.

What the message said: I cannot accept the fact that you haven’t read Aristotle & Dante yet. When’s your next shift at the shop?

What Andrew did: sent him his work schedule. Like an idiot who’d never had a mum telling him not to divulge personal info to strangers on the internet. Oh no wait- Andrew hadn’t.

What Neil did: walked into Andrew’s shops with a copy of A&D and a cup of coffee. Placed them on the counter in front of Andrew, smiled and left.

Andrew could’ve complained that the coffee was too bitter and- who even gifts books to someone who owns a bookshop? He could’ve complained, but he was too busy staring at the post-it on the book.

“Hire me before Riko makes me rec Fifty Shades of Gray xx”

That that afternoon Andrew walked into Moriyamas with a copy of a random book in his hands. The post-it on its front cover said “You start tomorrow at 9. Don’t be late.”

With Neil’s videos and Andrew’s photos, ABS’ account (unsurprisingly) became one of Instagram’s most popular book accounts. Andrew’s bookshop became so popular he managed to buy the Palmetto Moriyamas shop after their sales plummeted and they were forced to close the store.

As concerns Neil and Andrew. Well. Their relationship would still be secret if Kevin -who still managed the ig account- didn’t accidentally post the wrong video.

It was supposed to be a video of Andrew doing squats with Neil sitting on his shoulders and reading a book.

The video that got posted to ABS’ 3 million followers instead featured Neil sitting on Andrew’s shoulders and laughing so much he lost his balance. He was about to fall to the ground when Andrew caught him in his arms and Neil, who hadn’t stopped laughing for a second, kissed him on the tip of his nose.

#all for the game #aftg #tfc #the foxhole court #aftg fic #mine*#1k

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simonsrosebud · 4 years

Note

maybe 3, 16, or 18 on the angst ones??? im in a mood

NOT CANON IN THE KALTON AU

it’s may when dalton breaks up with kevin.

it’s right before their practice of the year when kevin catches dalton’s call. he stops in the hall on the way to the lounge to answer it. “hey, what’s up? i’m about to go change out, but want me to come around after?”

“um, i think, maybe, it’s better if you don’t, kevin.”

and he frowns. “why, what’s wrong? are you okay?”

“i just, i’m going through some things right now, and i just think it’s better if i were to do it alone.”

“oh... well, you know i’m always here. just call me later?”

“kevin...”

kevin’s heart starts beating faster. “yeah?”

“i don’t just mean alone for a day.”

kevin leans back against the wall. “what... what do you mean?” he whispers.

“i mean alone as in, um... without a boyfriend.”

no. “dalton, whatever it is, i-i’ll do better, i promise.”

dan is the only other person at the stadium yet, and stops in the doorway to the girls locker room when she hears the conversation. she doesn’t want to pry, but if she’s right, and what’s about to happen really happens then she doesn’t want to leave kevin here alone.

“i’m sorry, kevin-“

“no, hey, please-“

“i-i gotta go.”

“dalton, please!” but the line is already dead, and kevin doesn’t mean to, but he drops his phone in the process of turning and pressing his forehead against the wall.

he tries holding everything in, but he can feel himself starting to panic, and when dan turns him around with a gentle “it’s okay” he nearly crumples because it’s not okay. he doesn’t know what’s going on.

dan drives him over to dalton’s apartment, and thank god kevin has a key, but when he gets inside it’s still and quiet. and the coffee maker is gone and the closet is open and near empty. the chargers next to the bed are gone and that’s when kevin drops to his knees and presses his hands to the floor because dalton up and left for the summer without warning.

he’s gone, and kevin can’t do anything about it.

he lets out a sob, followed by heavy breathing and a weight so deep in his chest that he can’t get up. his hands are shaking over his mouth, and his vision is blurry before he squeezes his eyes shut.

he takes a deep breath, but his exhale is a sob, and he leans forward with his arms around his stomach.

he can’t breathe.

dan comes to find him a few minutes later, and when she tries putting her arms around him he sounds like he’s in pain. she pulls him upright to lean on her instead. he clings like his life depends on it, hands clenched in the back of her t-shirt.

when she gets him up enough to get him back to the suite, she makes him promise he’ll be okay before making it to the stadium. she’s a little bit late for practice, and by the time she gets onto the court neil already started. it’s supposed to be a captains practice, so she gives him credit for taking over as vice captain.

“where’s kevin?”

“last minute appointment with betsy.”

neil nods. he knows better than to want to ask.

dan checks the time every ten minutes it feels. she needs this to be over.

meanwhile, kevin’s lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. a weight back in his chest and tears silently crawling from his eyes.

he just wants to feel numb.

he looks to the kitchen.

kevin drinks. he drinks so much that he throws up.

he wants to be numb, but it’s not working. which is why he drinks some more.

wymack comes by at the end of practice and calls dan over after watching everyone shuffle out. “kevin?”

she hesitates. “um, dalton broke up with him right before practice, and up and left for the summer before we could get to his place. he-he was a mess, coach, he could barely function. probably on the verge of a panic attack.”

and that peeks his attention in a different way that the first thing did, because he curses under his breath and turns. “you left him alone? at the tower?” she nods, and he curses again. “come on, fast, danielle!” she doesn’t usually see coach running for no reason, which makes her high tail it to his car.

wymaca rambles a bit on the way there. “every time i’ve seen that kid have a meltdown without dalton to rely on it was before they were together, and it always ended with alcohol.” his fingers tapped on the wheel. “i don’t fucking care if he breaks sobriety so long as he’s not dying of fucking alcohol poisoning right now. i know him. i know how much he loves that fucking kid. he can not be alone right now.”

and dan can’t tell if he’s seething or worried out of his mind, or both. but either way, she hasn’t seen him like this since neil went missing and kevin told them it probably wasn’t an accident.

womack has keys to all of their suite’s for emergencies, but kevin’s door is open. andrew and neil were straight on their way to columbia from practice, so he’s the only one there.

wymack bursts in, and kevin’s drunk out of his mind sitting on the floor against the cabinets. he shakes his head when he sees his father, and stands. dan doesn’t think he could make it across the room if he tried.

“m’fine, m’fine!” he leans back against the counter. “s’probably my fault, anyway.”

he reaches for a bottle of vodka on the counter, and when wymack beats him to it he tries grabbing it. “come on.”

“no-“

“please! dan, i-“

“no, kevin!” wymack is holding him back, a hand on his chest and the other around him to try and keep him still as he pushes against wymack.

“just don’t wanna feel!” kevin cries out. he goes limp against wymack and starts to crumble. “hurts so bad, i just- i just wanna be numb from it all.” his voice is weak, and he sinks to the ground. he covers an arm around his face. “please just take it away.” he begs. “please, please, help. i-i can’t, i can’t,” he sobs. dan drops beside him and pulls his head to her shoulder. “i love him so much,” he whispers. “i dunno what to do.”

she casts a pleading look to wymack, because all she knows to do is rub his back and try to shush him to calm down.

“hey, look at me.” wymack takes kevin’s chin, gently. dan backs off. “this is going to suck. but you’re going to get up tomorrow, and you’re going to call him up and demand an explanation. i don’t care if you have to fly to his house, dammit, you’ll do it. because after your mother left there wasn’t a day i didn’t regret not going after her, okay? cause look what she left me, kevin.” he raises an eyebrow. “you.” he sticks a finger to kevin’s chest.

kevin nods. “i want him so bad.”

“then you’ll go after him. whether it works out or not.”

kevin sleeps on wymack’s sofa that night.

and in the morning, he’s woken up by knocking on the door.

kevin’s head is pounding, but he already threw up everything he could last night.

he trudges to the door, but the person behind it makes him take a step back. he wants to jump forward and hug him, but it hurts him too much to actually want to go through with it.

“what are you doing here,” he whispers. he crosses his arms. he probably smells like alcohol and vomit.

dalton looks desperate, and he falters on what he wants to say, so kevin jumps in again. “can i just… can you just tell me what i did wrong?” he bites the inside of his cheek. he knows it’ll be easy getting him emotional what with just waking up. “i know i’ve got baggage, but just-just tell me why. cause i just woke up and i’m all torn up and hungover, so i-i just need to know. please.”

dalton frowns. “i… you promised you’d stop drinking-“

“and you promised you wouldn’t hurt me!” kevin’s voice cracks. “any other lies left to tell me?” and he takes a deep breath. “please, dalton, i just need to know why you’d fucking do this to me!” he messily wipes his eye with the cuff of his sleeve.

“you left without explanation, and-and i… i feel like i’m always going through something, but you’re the reason i’ve come out just fine! i just wanna be that for you, but instead you thought breaking up would be the better option? how-how do you think that makes me feel? to think that my boyfriend doesn’t think i can comfort him? that he’d rather be a-alone?” he’s starting to get worked up, and wipes his eyes again. he takes a deep breathe.

dalton has tears in his eyes. “i’m sorry,” he whispers. “i’m so, so, sorry. that wasn’t… i didn’t mean that. that’s not what i think, i didn’t mean to leave you thinking that. and,” he looks away for a second. “can i just explain? from the beginning? i-i want you, i don’t wanna ruin this, and i hope i haven’t already.”

you haven’t. i just want you.

but kevin lets him in. he doesn’t sit, but he at least lets him inside and closes the door. he’s sure his father is hiding out in his office or bedroom. he’s a light sleeper, and they weren’t exactly being quiet.

dalton starts. “um, my grandmother died yesterday morning, and my grandfather was admitted to the hospital almost right after, and-and my family doesn’t know why,” he says. “and i was a mess, but i knew you had practice- i would’ve gone home right away regardless, but i-i didn’t wanna put all my family problems on you, cause you’ve already got enough. but, i, um, i was almost to maryland and i wanted- i knew i had to turn around, cause i was a fucking asshole, but it was already late and i probably would’ve fallen asleep at the wheel, so i stopped home to sleep for a few hours and now…” he meets kevin’s eyes again.

“i just can’t lose you, and i was stupid and a dick, and you don’t deserve to be treated like this. kevin please, i’m… i’m so sorry.” kevin notices how dalton holds back on reaching out to him. “is there any way i can fix it?”

kevin looks to the side, arms crossed. “you’ve probably dealt with so much fucked shit with me and my family,” my foxes, “family problems don’t scare me, d. i love you so much that i sat on my knees in your apartment having a panic attack… i… i don’t wanna do the whole thing where i take a few days away from you,” he says. “i can be there for you like you’ve done for me, i swear, but you just, like, you have to talk to me. cause i can’t do that again. so many things went through my head that i can’t go through again. i-i can’t be left so broken that it makes me wanna be numb enough to drink.”

this time, he lets dalton wipe a tear under his eye. he speaks quiet. “i’m humiliated by that. i never want to break my sobriety again.”

dalton nods. “i’m so sorry i broke my promise.”

“mine too.”

“no.” he shakes his head. “that’s different. and i should’ve talked to you, told you why i did what i did, even if it was stupid.”

kevin nods. “can you hold me?” he whispers.

dalton doesn’t waste time, and wraps his arms around kevin, who sinks into his embrace. “i’ll make you a new promise. one i can keep.” dalton speaks into kevin’s hair. “i promise to communicate better and talk to you, no matter what.”

kevin slides his arms around dalton’s neck. “i promise i’ll call someone if i ever get the urge to drink alone again.” and then, “i’m sorry about your grandmother.” he knows which one it is, too, because his grandmother on his mother’s side passed when dalton was a child. this one kevin met a few months back, even.

he pulls back, and cups dalton’s face. “i’m here for you, okay?”

dalton nods, and he tilts his head into kevin’s hand. “i don’t think it’ll hit me for a while. the funeral is in three days.” he pauses. “you don’t have to, but-“

“i’ll be there with you.”

dalton cups his hand around kevin’s on his face and brings his knuckles to his lips. “i’ll make all of this up to you.” kevin kisses his forehead. “i love you,” dalton whispers.

i’m now realizing i forgot to include angst #16 aka “you’ve changed” but it’s probably better for my own sanity that i didn't bc that one just makes me think of “they break up and run into each other months/years later” which i can NOT do to my boys LOL

#kevin day #bisexual kevin day #the one where someone doesn’t know who kevin day is #OC: dalton miller #dalton miller #kevin day x dalton miller #exy #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #the foxes #palmetto state university #palmetto state foxes #dan wilds #andrew minyard #neil josten #david wymack #kayleigh day

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mitskihost · 4 years

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Kevin Day and his Punk Girlfriend

(now has a pt 2)

we all talk about bi!kevin with a cute boyfriend BUT consider kevin w a punk gf and he just loves her Alot. yes this is inspired by bluesey no i will not be taking questions

- the first time he sees her, it's at eden. she's wearing a leather skirt and a band shirt, and she's sitting alone by the bar until some jackass comes to disturb her. kevin watches from a distance as she pours her drink down his pants after several minutes of conversation and she only flips him off as he walks away angrily. he doesn't go up to her, partly because he fears she'll spill a drink on him too, and partly because he can't find the courage too (he knows he's free now, but it's still takes times to adjust)

- he thinks it'll be easy not to think about the girl, between games and classes and his wild team, he's barely got time to think about himself. he only thinks about her once though, when jean says that he's dating jeremy and he's proud of himself; he thinks of her fierce eyes and imagines what they would look like staring at him. and then he tries to never think about her again.

- except she turns up everywhere. she's sitting on the campus lawns with her guitar and a notepad (kevin sees a tattoo along her calf and finds himself thinking about it for days). she's cheering her vixen friends on during one of the games (kevin thinks he imagines her looking his way at one point). he runs into her in the library one monday morning, reading the only copy of a book he was searching for (nicky would've screamed at him for not taking the opportunity, but what nicky doesn't know, doesn't harm him)

- the first time she sees him, it's at a diner the foxes chose to eat at one night. she's two booths down, he thinks she didn't notice him. but she did, she recognized the queen tattoo and the straight nose and the shy mouth. she only waved at him before he left.

- the first time they spoke, it was at an after game party. he's only there because dan demands it and she's only there because she's allowed to chose the music. it takes four drinks and some breathing exercises before kevin gathers the strength to talk to her. it goes terribly. but she laughs, and then clutches his elbow as she laughs louder at his next comment. the night starts with them talking about the game and ends with her number scribbled on a paper that he shoves in his wallet.

- it takes more time for kevin to actually open up to her. they meet often, she drags him to art events across campus and in return he drags her to exy games. she sneaks him into her dorm room and teaches him how to strum her guitar, he gets her into irish folklore.

- he doesn't invite her on a date. a lingering fear from his past reminds him that girls are a distraction. but he can't think of anything that's still holding him back. neil survived, and he has andrew. jean survived, and now he has jeremy. kevin won't admit it, but it feels bitter and almost like defeat when he sees them move on.

- opportunity presents itself when kevin least expects it. spring banquet is around the corner, the foxes all have dates and nicky finally intervenes and forces kevin to ask her out.

- she wears a grey croptop and a blazer with long pants, ears and fingers lined with silver jewelry. andrew has to knock kevin's mouth shut with a finger.

- she's funnier than he remembers. a dead pan humor with a side of that fox like sarcasm makes her excellent company. kevin keeps her by his side throughout the night, and only lets her go when he talks to jean.

- dan and matt love her immediately, nicky follows suit when he realizes she can shut kevin up without trying, allison and neil are just surprised someone like her is willing to try with someone like kevin (it's all a joke, they reassure when kevin frowns). andrew and aaron don't talk to her, but kevin hopes they aren't far behind.

- they first time they touch, it's her kissing his queen tattoo the day after the banquet when they drop her off. andrew knocks his mouth shut again, but saves him from misery and doesn't make a comment about it.

- the kisses get more frequent- she kisses him next on the side of his mouth the next time they step out. he kisses her forehead after a tough yet victorious match. she kisses his shoulder after he fires at someone for making a very misogynistic remark about dan at an after game party. he kissed her nose when she's too exhausted to reach his face. she kisses him after their first actual date, and he kisses her back until they're both kind of breathless.

- kevin still has a hard time accepting that she's interested in being more, and that isn't just a stress-induced attraction that he was so used to. she was patient, never demanded more or less. he has once asked her how long she would wait, she only smiled and told him that there was no waiting. "i'm happy with whatever i get of you"

- they become official months later. the team is delighted to say the least, not only because they absolutely adored her but also because she was the only one who could pull the stick out of kevin's ass.

- she tells andrew that she thinks his all-black outfits are "killer", and andrew learns to tolerate her. aaron comes around only because she knows katelyn too.

- dates!! kevin on dates!! them, driving around aimlessly after midnight practice and she introduces him to queen (she's shocked when she learns he doesn't already listen to their music). (kevin's favorite song is don't stop me now, but he says killer queen just to see her smile) them, making breakfast together at her dorm after a particularly hard hitting week. them, falling asleep on the floor, her sprawled on his chest and him with an arm around her waist to keep her there.

- they go out for dinner with wymack one night (he sees him staring at her when she isn't looking and he sees her hooking a hand by his elbow when he's thinking far away and realizes that she makes his son happy, so she's worth keeping around)

- they go to eden together for the first time, she kisses him silly at the end of the night and it's all he can think about for weeks. he returns the favor weeks later, and she takes whatever piece of himself he can willingly gives to her, until he can give her everything entirely.

- he's happy with her, and it satisfies andrew to see him like that, though he'd never admit it.

- lemme have this PLS i just wanna see him with a loud, happy girl by his side who makes him smile and realize that he has a chance to grow again, to be loved again. :') i can dream

#aftg #aftg hc #bi!kevin #look i just reallg want this to come true okay #ik i said punk gf in the start but i v conveniently left out those details but i will make something of it later #this is so random #jean: you know she's too cool for you right?#SHSHA okay now im going to sleep enough creativity for the day #love kevin tho my fav boy #go crazy!!#kevin day deserves the world #kevin day

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wulfrann · 4 years

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A wingman winged (Palmetto by the Sea part 1)

All for the game

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationship: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten & Allison Reynolds, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (side)

Additional Tags: AU - Modern Setting, AU - No Exy, First Meeting, Eden’s Twilight, Neil ‘Best Wingman’ Josten

[Part 1 of the Palmetto by the Sea series - Chapter 1/1 - 3k words - Published 2020-12-10]

Summary :

It's a Saturday night at Eden's, and Allison needs Neil's help to approach the object of her long-suffering crush - that is to say, she needs him to distract the girl's intimidating friend long enough that she's able to approach in the first place.

(TW: alcohol, sexual harassment (short-lived), brief display of violence, smoking)

[Read on Ao3]

A wingman winged

The music thumps the ground in rhythm, low and deep like a pulse as it throbs through the club and reverberates into the bodies twisting as one on the dance floor. Eden’s Twilight isn’t really Neil’s scene, but the dark aesthetic and ever-shifting neon lighting make it easy to blend in. The shadows bend and stretch over his scars, reducing them to odd tattoos at first glance - and he makes sure he never gets a second. The clothes he’s wearing are nice enough and all black, but neither form-fitting nor revealing. Standing next to Allison’s brand of tastefully flashy clubwear, he’s no more than a foil. Seduction is her domain, and she thrives on it.

Which is what makes the fact that she’s asking him for help absolutely baffling.

“I’ve seen you wrap more than half this crowd around your little finger like it was nothing. Why can’t you just do the same with her?”

“You don’t understand,” Allison repeats for the third time that night. She has her chin in her hand and is leaning over her drink, swirling the expensive cocktail around with her straw. “I’ve tried everything, and the most I’ve gotten is for her to look at me. She hasn’t even tried to buy me a drink.”

“Have you tried talking to her?”

Allison scoffs. “I don’t set myself up for failure. She’s given me no sign that she’s interested. Besides, that little troll of a man she keeps around would probably bite me if I tried.”

Neil snorts at that. He’s seen the man in question glare people away, from both himself and his friend, all evening - on one occasion, he’s almost certain that the man even pulled out a knife. There’s no mistaking the way that the light glinted off of the blade, not even from across a crowded nightclub. Neil would recognise that brief flash anywhere.

His friend though, she looks friendly enough. White hair dyed rainbow at the tips, a silver cross, a few piercings. She’s wearing a black dress that wouldn’t look out of place in daylight and a soft smile that Neil is tempted to believe is fake just because of how earnest it looks. She’s also got the muscle structure of an athlete, a fact which Allison has reminded him of enough times that he’ll probably never be able to forget.

“Couldn’t you just accept your defeat and move on?” Neil tries, but he’s known Allison long enough that his heart isn’t in it. She’s never been one to give up.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Have you seen the arms on her? I’m getting her in my bed whether her little bodyguard likes it or not.”

“What if she’s straight?”

Allison shakes her head at him in that way that means he’s failed at some kind of social task and starts to count her points off her fingers. “Neil, the woman is ripped, has an undercut, rainbow hair, and armpit hair.”

“How do you know-”

“I have eyes. Besides, that blond troll she always comes here with is definitely gay, and everyone knows queer people travel in group.”

Neil throws a skeptical glance towards the unlikely duo, but doesn’t argue. None of what Allison listed strikes him as particularly telling, but he’s been told that his ‘gaydar’ is ‘absolutely abysmal’ on numerous occasions by about everyone he knows except Kevin, who's just as bad as him if Allison can be trusted.

Neil might as well accept his fate. “What do you want me to do?”

Allison grins at him. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

Locating the two of them isn’t as easy when he’s not sitting on the upper level but standing right here in the crowd, surrounded by people and blinded by the rapidly changing lights. Years of hyper-vigilance end up paying off once he’s gotten his bearings right, however, and he starts making his roundabout way towards the section of wall they’re leaning on. The man is sipping on some kind of drink and staring blankly into the distance while the woman does most of the talking, though she does glance in Allison’s general direction more than once in the amount of time it takes Neil to reach them. He doesn’t blame her - even he has to admit that Allison’s dancing is a thing of beauty.

Neil, on the other hand, only ever pretends to dance. He’s gone out with his friends often enough that he’s picked up a few generic moves and can blend in, but it just - doesn’t appeal to him. Still, what little grasp he has on it is enough to get to his target unnoticed.

One falsely awkward step later and he’s got a glassful of whiskey and coke soaking into the man’s black tank top and dripping down his pants.

The hand wrapped around his arm, steadying him, is an unexpected addition. Neil’s previous drink messed his balance at the last minute and he’s pretty sure he’d have fallen to the floor if he hadn’t been caught. The man’s grip is undeniable strong, but it’s the eyes that really hold Neil down to his spot. He can’t quite tell the color because of the many strobing lights and colored neons flashing around, but he thinks they might be brown.

“Oops,” Neil says, straightening himself up with exaggerated movements. The man’s eyes flicker down his drenched top before sliding back up to Neil’s eyes without so much as a frown. “Sorry for your muscle shirt,” Neil adds as an after-thought, digging the word out of an afternoon spent (unwillingly) shopping with Allison.

The man arcs a single eyebrow. “You’re drunk,” he says, with one of the flattest voices Neil has ever heard.

Neil smiles widely, swaying a little on his feet. He still has the man’s hand wrapped around his bicep. “No,” he retorts, slurring the words a bit, “I’m Neil.”

The eyebrow arcs up even higher. Neil’s smile widens. He’s about to say something else, whatever sentence he can think of that would maintain the man’s attention on him, when someone else’s voice cuts in.

“Andrew, you’re soaked!”

Neil turns towards the woman, spying Allison making her way over from behind her, and raises his now empty glass. “My fault. I wasn’t looking.”

She smiles. From close up, it looks even softer than Neil thought. “That’s okay, it happens,” she says, then glances down where the man’s hands - Andrew’s? - is still holding on to him. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I just tripped,” Neil reassures her, then looks over at Andrew, whose eyes haven’t left his face. He’s… staring, with an intensity that catches Neil off-guard. And then he’s not, because Allison is coming over and calling his name. The hand drops from his arm like it was burned.

“Neil! There you are.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, then turns, falsely confused, towards Andrew and his friend. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” the woman says, looking a little stunned.

“Your friend spilled his drink on me,” Andrew states, throwing a look at his own friend.

“I was just going to ask the barman for paper towels,” the object of Allison's scheming adds, already half-turning away.

Allison doesn’t hesitate one second before following suit, offering her help. When the woman starts to protest, she takes hold of her arm and all but drags her to the bar. Neil watches the interaction without holding back his smile.

When he turns back towards Andrew, the man is staring at him with a frown.

“Sorry again for your shirt,” Neil offers, though he forgets to make himself sound like he means it. “You should probably take it off.”

The arched eyebrow comes back, and Neil realizes what he just said with a choked laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that. But it would dry faster,” he adds, feeling stupid. Andrew doesn’t look convinced, though, so he feels compelled to add, “I don’t swing.”

“I don’t watch baseball,” Andrew deadpans.

“I’m not talking about baseball,” Neil says, grimacing in disgust. “It’s not even a real sport.”

The look Andrew gives him is the blankest one yet. Neil looks down into his empty glass, then at Andrew’s tank top.

“You really should rinse it down, at least,” he ends up saying. “Otherwise it’s going to stick.”

Andrew stares at him a little longer, then downs his glass and starts to move in the direction of the bathroom. For some reason, Neil follows.

The bathroom is painted mostly black, like just about everything in Eden’s. Only the large sink is white. Neil leans back against it and watches as Andrew grabs a few paper towels from the dispenser and soaks them with water, then starts to wipe at his shirt. He thinks about helping, but remembers the way Andrew avoided touching anyone on his way to the bathroom and figures that there’s not much he could do, anyway.

“You’re not drunk,” Andrew states after a while.

Neil debates lying as Andrew throws the wet ball of paper away and walks to the dispenser to get more, but decides against it. “No, I’m not. I don’t like it.”

Andrew barely glances at him. “You play drunk well for someone who doesn’t like it.”

“S’not hard,” Neil says, shrugging, then figures he might as well come clean and adds: “Allison needed an excuse to talk to your friend.”

Andrew meets his eyes then, eyebrow arched up. “Did she try buying her a drink?”

“That’s what I said.” Neil smiles, then shrugs again. “Apparently she’s been trying to get your friend’s attention for weeks, but nothing’s worked.”

Andrew lets a sharp breath out of his nose, which Neil guesses is the equivalent of a laugh, if the lack of facial expression he's shown so far is anything to go by. “If that’s what she thinks, then your friend’s blind.”

Neil grins. “I’m glad. I thought I’d caught her staring a few times, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Renee likes to think she’s subtle.”

“Well, at least they’re talking now. I don’t think you’re getting those paper towels though,” Neil adds, watching Andrew wash his hands with a distracted kind of fascination. Somehow, the dark armbands encasing both of Andrew’s forearms make his hands stand out. Broad, and worn, with an odd elegance in the way they move. Neil would bet a lot of money on Andrew having some kind of manual career, at the very least a hobby. Something meticulous.

It’s only after Andrew’s wiped his hands and thrown away one last paper towel that Neil realizes he’s been staring, and he moves his eyes to Andrew’s face instead. He finds him with his head tipped slightly to the side, looking at him with the faintest hint of curiosity on his face.

Neil is about to say something - he's not sure what - when some guy he’d barely registered on his radar suddenly steps into his space.

"Hey there, pretty face,” the guy slurs, exhaling cheap booze right into Neil’s face. “Were you waiting for me?"

Neil looks up at the guy's face and begrudgingly resists the urge to bash an elbow into his nose. "Obviously not," he spits.

Hoping that it's enough for the guy to take his hint and leave, Neil starts to turn back towards Andrew. He is immediately jostled back towards the guy as a large hand grabs his chin and twists. "Hey, I was talking to you, Scarface."

"Wow, I've never heard that one before," Neil retorts, rolling his eyes. "You know, you should really make up your mind, asshole. Either I'm pretty or I'm not. Now get lost," Neil says, and is about to jam his knee into the guy's crotch when something tears the asshole away from him. Neil's balance is shaken by the movement, but he manages to stay upright by gripping the sink.

"You don't touch people without their permission. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?" Andrew says, pressing down upon the hold he has on the guy's arm, which he's twisted behind his back with one hand. He has a knife pressed to the guy's throat with the other. His voice is flat enough to cut. "If I see you again, I'll gut you. Understood?"

The guy nods and Andrew sends him sprawling onto the floor. He scrambles quickly to his feet and promptly runs out the door. Light glints off the small knife’s blade, clutched so tightly Andrew’s knuckles look white.

"Thanks," Neil says in the silence. "But I could have handled it."

"I don't care," Andrew snarls back.

Neil looks at the tension oozing out of Andrew's every cell and decides to keep silent. It's the right decision, judging by the way Andrew closes his eyes and starts packing up the tension, folding it back inside little by little. Neil knows the feeling.

The knife vanishes from his hand (and into one of the sheaths Neil suspects are sewn into the armbands), and Neil follows Andrew out of the bathroom. They stand by the door for a bit while Neil watches Andrew scanning the crowd with a clenched jaw. The tension is still there, even packed up, even pressed down tight under the surface of his skin. It needs more space than that to leave.

"Let's get out of here," Neil offers.

Andrew glances at him, then nods. Neil takes a hold of the hem of Andrew's shirt and leads the way out of the club.

The night's chill is a welcome change of pace after the density of the packed club's air. Neil inhales a gallon of it as soon as they've stepped outside, and hears Andrew do the same. It smells of cigarette butts and wet asphalt. He had no idea it'd rained.

A faint click on his right - Andrew lights a cigarette and offers him another one. Neil takes it and watches the smoke spill out of Andrew’s mouth like magic, grabbing hold of the lighter only as an afterthought. The metal is smooth under his touch and slightly warm over the imprint of Andrew’s hand. Neil brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a drag, closing his eyes to focus on the burning air flow rushing down his windpipe. He blows it out smiling, eyes trailing after the faint grey cloud. Andrew’s eyes are on him.

“Thanks,” he tells him, raising his cigarette in the air.

They smoke in silence. Neil lets the little circle of fire eat away at his cigarette without taking another drag, content just to breathe and to watch as the tension coiled so tight in Andrew’s chest unwinds, seeping out, one exhalation at a time, into the quiet night.

The quiet can’t last forever, however, especially not on a Saturday night at Eden’s doorsteps, and so the peace is brutally broken a few minutes later as a group of inebriated twenty-somethings spill out over the sidewalk laughing loudly and singing songs. Andrew adroitly sidesteps one of them as he staggers to the side before getting dragged back by his friend, brushing shoulders with Neil. They got their stuff back from the cloakroom when they stepped out and Andrew’s wearing a leather jacket over his muscle shirt, black as the rest of his clothes.

Andrew looks at the group staggering its way down the street until they’re far enough they can barely hear them. “Are you hungry?”

Neil shrugs. “Kinda. Why? Are you asking me to dinner?” Neil asks, smile tugging at his lips. “I doubt we’ll find anything open.”

Andrew smothers the butt of his cigarette on the wall and tosses it into the trashcan Eden’s staff left by the door, then gestures at Neil to follow. It goes against about every instinct Neil has cultivated along the years, but he does.

He doesn’t know why. Andrew’s back is broad and he walks at a steady pace, with an assurance that doesn’t look learned and yet still probably is. Neil remembers the way Andrew looked when he bent the asshole’s arm behind his back, like what he really wanted was to break it in half but knew that he had to hold back. His voice hadn’t faltered then, either. Neil wonders if it ever does.

They stop in front of a motor bike parked some way off of the club, street lights glinting off of the metal and black bodywork. Andrew gets a helmet from some kind of locked compartment and hands it over to Neil, who takes it by reflex.

“Where are we going?” he asks, turning the helmet around in his hands. He’s starting to wonder whether Andrew’s even aware that there are other colors outside of black.

Andrew grabs a pair of gloves out of the compartment and slips them on. “A kebab joint,” he says without looking at Neil. “It’s open until 3.”

Neil considers the bike, then the helmet in his hands. “I’ve never ridden on a bike before.”

“Don’t get on before I tell you to. Don’t make me lose my balance. When the bike leans into turns, lean with it,” he drones out. “If you do that and hold on, you’ll be fine.”

Neil considers Andrew. The solid stance of him. Once he climbs on the bike, he’ll have no control until they stop.

“Okay.”

There’s a buzzing beneath his kin.

The kebab joint is a tiny square of neon light squeezed in-between two higher-end shops, and the only open place to sell food for miles around. There are no tables and no interior, just a counter with a window display that reminds Neil of ice-cream shops, filled with meat fillings, some kind of fried rolls, and a handful of sad-looking pastries. The items are listed above and to the sides - hamburgers, kebabs, paninis, all with various meats and side dishes and an array of sauces Neil’s never heard of before. He has no idea where to start, and so asks for the same thing Andrew ordered.

They pack the smell of cheap food and fat in plastic bags and leave the shop front to sit by the pier. The kebab is greasy and would have made Kevin scream, but the meat is tasty and the sauce is good, and it’s somehow the perfect thing to eat right now.

Through the cloud of their food wafts the sharp smell of iodine. They claimed a spot of the pier to sit, legs dangling through the railing, and the wood too smells of salt, is so ingrained with it that it sticks slightly to the skin and leaves imprints of tiny crystals on their clothes.

They eat in silence; the wash and backwash of the sea beneath the pier is a rolling whisper, swishing quietly past the piles and back again, a dark rippling sky in movement. There is no agitation around them, yet still it seems as though the sea swallows all sounds, pillows the silence with its mass, shaping a quietude with depth. It’s a quality of peace Neil has never felt before.

He’s just about finished with his food when his phone buzzes.

[From: Allison] where r u??

Neil snorts. Andrew raises a quizzical eyebrow at him, but he just shakes his head.

[To: Allison] I left 30 minutes ago, but thank you for noticing.

[From: Allison] was busy :-*

[From: Allison] u haven’t been kidnapped right? did u go home?

[To: Allison] No and no. I’m at the pier with Andrew.

[From: Allison] ?????

[From: Allison] was that a joke???

Neil huffs out a laugh, enjoying the confusion, and puts his phone on silent as more texts keep coming in. Andrew’s phone buzzes once, but he doesn’t check it - just grabs a cigarette and his lighter, replacing the smell of their meal with another. The smoke drifts up and disperses, yielding to the handful of stars valiantly fighting against the electrical constellations of city lights. The moon is gibbous amongst them and fractal upon the sea; Neil distractedly notices that it’s waning, as the curve makes a d and Jean’s trick somehow never left his mind, despite his lack of interest in the conversation at the time.

It makes Andrew look even paler, this lighting. His hair is made of silver and the volumes of his face either stand out or cave, stark and almost unreal.

Andrew’s eyes flick to his.

“Staring.”

Neil smiles. He takes the cigarette from Andrew’s hand and takes a drag, blowing memories up, up, up until they’re gone.

“What do you do?” he asks when he hands the cigarette back. “For a living, I mean.”

Andrew doesn't answer. He just looks at Neil and pulls on his cigarette. A bit of wind blows the smoke sideways, across his cheek and back to land.

"If you won't tell me, I'll guess," Neil says when it's clear he's not getting an answer, and pretends to study Andrew's appearance for clues. "You could be an artist. You look like one." He grins at the unimpressed look on Andrew's face. "Bit of a cursed poet vibe, with the piercings and all that black. Strong aesthetic. I guess you could be a musician, too."

The corner of Andrew's mouth twitches. "Shallow."

Neil shrugs. Appearances tell a lot more than people think, but he's pretty sure he got it wrong. He doesn't actually know how artists are supposed to look like - that's not really the kind of things he learned to watch out for - but it's as good a guess as anything. "It's either that or undertaker."

Andrew blows smoke out through his nose. "Sorry to disappoint, but I just serve drinks."

Neil hums. "Full time?"

"No. I also cook."

"You're a chef, and you still eat food like this?" Neil asks, waving at the plastic bag sitting between them.

"Aide," Andrew corrects. "Anas' is the only decent place still open. I don't see you complaining."

"It was pretty good," Neil grants, then adds, because it's only fair: "I'm a student."

"Late calling?"

Neil smiles. "Something like it."

An eyebrow shaped like a question. Neil ignores it in favor of the sea, but the weight of Andrew's gaze stays fixed on him like an anchor. He wonders if Andrew's trying to guess what something like it may hide; wonders how far away from reality he's wandering, trying to find something reasonable; wonders, even, how he'd react if Neil told him the truth. Whether he'd balk at the scars that prove it or stare at them the same way he's staring at the ones across his face now, blank and unwavering, on the upside of bored.

Riding on Andrew's bike the second time is just as exhilarating as the first. The city flies by in a blur - the docks, the bars, the empty streets, they blend together and melt together until there's nothing really left but them, passing. Alone. A figment caught between two worlds.

When Andrew drops him off, the ground still moves beneath his feet. Neil shoves his hand into his pockets and grins, feeling absurdly carefree.

"Thank you. For the ride and for the food - it was amazing."

He means it. Andrew is looking at him like he's trying to figure out if he does. He holds out his hand, and Neil frowns.

He looks to the sky and sighs. "Your phone."

"Oh," Neil says. He puts his phone in Andrew's palm.

Andrew takes one glove off and puts his number in quickly. He tosses his phone back to Neil and brings two fingers up to his temple in salute.

The bike roars to life, the noise filling the street until it's gone. Neil looks down at the brand new contact in his phone, carefully prodding at the little bit of warmth beneath his sternum.

Matt, Dan, Wymack, Allison, Abby, Kevin, his therapist, his dentist and his doctor. Andrew's number brings the staggering total amount of contacts into his phone to a very satisfying 10.

#andreil #tfc #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #all for the game #the foxhole court #allison reynolds #renee walker #renison #modern au #palmetto by the sea #a wingman winged #no exy au #fanfiction #wulfrann writes #this has been sitting in my wips for 9 months rip

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sadboyayeron · 4 years

Text

@criswisstuff “I may be projecting a little bit the guy being scared of women old enough to be his mother is really possible. Also the "I haven't sleep or eaten in four days because I don't deserve it " during a depressive episode” asks from this post

Hope you like this :)

(TW/mental illness/ed/etc.)

Aaron always struggled with food. I mean it wasn’t his fault. He would go days without eating, especially during the summer when there wasn't any school lunch to be provided. His Mom would either forget to go grocery shopping that week or she was to high to care. Eventually she would remember, or just give him the money to get it himself. He picked up learning how to cook his own food. On the good days she would teach him some recipes she knew.

It wasn’t that he disliked food, he just didn’t care much for it. It wasn’t a “priority”. He deffiently didn't care while he was still on drugs. They hit harder on a empty stomach anyways. Now that he was sober he only eats because he needs to. Maybe some extra protein because he lifted or had a hard practice that day. Some sweets because of Andrew’s sugar addiction. Whatever Nicky decided to order, or what smoothie Kevin decided to put in front of him. He tended to drink a lot of caffeine, in the morning, while studying. His appetite was often curved.

Another issue was that he tended to eat everything and anything put in front of him. He remembers the beatings he’d gotten from disliking his food, or the days he should have finished because he didn't know when the next meal would come. He ate till he was completely full, a lot of the times to fast.

With all this his weight has never been a real problem, he eats enough. He never felt it really effected his daily activities. He barely noticed it himself.

That was until he had overflowing school work, plus Kevin being up everyones ass about the up coming game that Friday. He had a project that was due, and three different test. Aaron liked to take lots of notes and then study for hours to prepare himself for a test. Starting Monday the only thing he consumed was caffeine. He didn't have time to think about what he was eating. Matt knew not to bother him and he wasn’t around the monsters much to be handed something to eat. He was harsh to Nicky on Tuesday which caused the older cousin to keep his distance. He didn't say much during his session with Bee and Andrew. He just told them about the shit ton of work he needed to do. Andrew didn't comment much, he really wasn't paying attention to what he was saying, to wrapped up in biology vocabulary.

Before the game Kevin made them drink some shakes. It was disgusting and he was the only one besides Kevin that actually finished it. He drank some coffee too. Only till the second half of the game did Aaron start to feel the headache he was commonly getting during practice. He got pushed hard into the glass by one of the other team strikers and then got subbed off.

When he was walking off he felt like his head was about to fall off. Abby came to him quickly which made him flinch. He had to make a double take, luckily enough she was to worried to notices. Aaron told her he felt dizzy so she handed him some gatorade and a cold clothe to rest around his neck. He started to feel normal again once the game came to an end with a last shot from Josten.

After the game the group got ready to go to Columbia. While changing he noticed he looked like shit. Well he always looks sleep deprived but now it just looked more shitty. He decided to steal some of Nicky’s eye liner. He never wore it often but he felt like it would be best to do it now. Nicky’s eyes lit up of course.

The ice cream at sweeties was harder to eat then usual. He actually liked sweets, much like his brother. But now his throat and chest felt like they were closing up. He tried to eat as slow as possible, so Andrew can start stealing some. When they got to Eden’s he felt himself start to slow down a bit. It was weird. He felt pretty wired all week almost, weather it was the caffeine or the drive to get his shit done. This feeling wasn’t unknown to him, but doesn't make it any less unexpected.

He kept to himself mostly, his mouth felt clench shut anyways at the moment. He ignore Andrew and Neil’s weird way of flirting and Kevin trying to not over drink. He just spited on his glass, that turned into four more. He started to feel the buzz, it almost felt like it wasn't there. Maybe he wasn’t entirely there either.

He stared out the window on the drive to the house. He liked driving in the dark. Seeing all the nights go by, nothing in between. Nicky and Kevin were seated next to him. They all been toning it down since Neil’s first seasons drama.

When they got to the house he went straight to him room. He wanted to shower but couldn’t find the effort to do so. He stuck to taking off his pants and shirt, throwing on a new top and leaving his boxers on. He turned off the lights then climbed into bed.

The next morning Aaron stayed in bed, he listen to some music on his phone. During the afternoon he decided to start watching the office. He didn't move. Everything felt heavy and started to blend together, time blended together. He faintly heard Nicky knocking on his door telling him something about ordering food. Food. He just kept staring at his phone screen.

Before he knew it, it was Sunday. He forgot they had no school on Monday or practice. So they would be leaving Monday afternoon.

Aaron thought he heard Andrew, or what sounded like his foot steps stopping in front of his door, but he stopped paying attention to that to know if he knocked or not. It wasn’t like he did this before. Of course he left his room to get food or use the bathroom. He probably should use the bathroom. He smelled, and needs to urinate. Getting up seemed more like a death sentence right now then the smell of sweat and the cramp in his lower stomach.

It wasn't until he heard his door open that he started to register that it was dark outside. Judging by the silence it was most likely his twin. He didn't turn around to check though. Just like he didn't bother to pause the show.

“It smells like shit in here.” Yeah he knew that, just didn't care. Aaron wanted to be left alone right now. His voice isn't working so he chose to continue to ignore Andrews presence. Not to be petty but it was a good taste of his own medicine. “I have food.” Aaron choose to look over at the door then. His brother holding a bowl of something, most likely cereal. Just sitting up was a chore. Andrew handed him the bowl. He looked towards Aaron’s phone, stuffed and walked out. He seemed like he wanted to say something, Aaron waited, then he heard the foot steps pause. But he then heard the door close. He stared at his bowl and picked up the spoon. The first bite was ash and sugar. The rest tasted like nothing as he scuffed it down. He sat it on the floor not to gently and turned back over to continue the show, not caring that it was probably a new episode by now.

Aaron was awoken by the need to piss. The cramp caused him to curl up with his knees to his chest. The sweat dripped down his forehead and his breathing came out ragged. He tried to crawl out of bed but fell on the floor in the process. He laid there instead, he felt one tear go down his face. He was not about to piss himself. He tried to get up again but then light shown in his face. Realizing the door opened he flinched back in surprise. Looking up he saw Neil standing there still holding the door handle. They watched each other closely before Neil came in and ask Aaron if it was okay to help him. He nodded a yes.

Neil got him to his feet and let Aaron hold on to his shoulder. When they got out the door he saw Andrew standing in the hallways. He saw emotion on his brothers face that he didn't want to see again. Once in the bathroom he relieved himself.

After he just sat on the bathroom floor and drifted off. Andrew woke him up when he heard the tub then shower start. His brother sat him on the toilet and told him to wash himself. When he left and shot the door Aaron got in fully clothed. He sat in the tub and let the water it him. He heard Andrew come back in.

“Hand me your clothes.” He slowly took off his shirt and had to stand up using the wall to take off his boxers. He handed them to Andrew around the curtain. When he felt more aware he grabbed his bar of soap and wash clothe and washed his body. He turned off the water and asked for a Towel. When his Brother handed it to him he left to let Aaron get out. He then changed into the clean clothes Andrew left on the toilet.

When he got out the bathroom he notice the sun was already starting to come up. It was still dark though. He went to the kitchen where he saw Nicky, who gave him a teary smile. He didn't understand way. Nicky handed him a sandwich and gave him a bigger smile. He whispered a thank you and slowly ate. If tears came to his eyes as he ate they didn't say anything.

When Kevin woke up he made Aaron a smoothie, one he actually thought wasn't disgusting.

#aaron minyard #andrew minyard #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #tfhc #neil josten #ed #aaron ed #kevin day #twinyards #minyard twins

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markonasurface · 4 years

Text

things you said i wouldn’t understand

things you said but not out loud

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An hour ago. Wymack picked me up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Theodora Muldani Missing From Friday Night Lineup

Why Thea Didn’t Play

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

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

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

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

Renee missed it by half a centimeter.

Wymack called for a break.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thea was not a soft person.

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

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

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

“You look like shit.”

He gave her an amused sort of grimace.

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

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

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

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

We need to talk, she meant to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I meant -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kevin opened his mouth but Thea walked out.

“Thea! Nice to see you -”

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

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

Four weeks later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 4 years

Note

Mandreil just straight up worshipping each other’s bodies

OMG YES!!!!! I think I've mentioned this before but Matt and Andrew's favorite thing to do when they've got time is to worship Neil!!! The pair of them will lay him down on the bed and take his shirt off and trail kisses up his arms and onto his torso. Every night, before bed, the two of them massage scar cream into the cuts and burns on his face

Matt is so big and tall. There’s just so much of him to love. Neil makes it incredibly apparent how much he cares. He openly stares at Matt while they’re working out together at the gym. After Matt showers, Neil will massage his aching muscles, ghosting kisses over his skin while telling him how handsome he is. Matt’s whole face is burning by the time Neil’s done with him. Andrew, for his part, secretly enjoys spoiling Matt with little ‘presents’ like holding hands while sitting together at the back of a lecture hall or curling up together in a booth at the coffee shop. Literally, any kind of touch from Andrew turns Matt into a putty but it’s things like these hit different.

Andrew doesn’t get worshipped very often. Not by Matt at least, and it’s because he’s kind of skittish. Matt is a great big puppy and Andrew gets overwhelmed too easily so he gets a little anxious whenever they try new things. Thankfully, Neil understands. He tends to go first, kissing Andrew, running his fingers through his hair, mumbling sweet nothings until the tension fades from Andrew’s form. Very slowly he’ll coax him out of his shirt and let Matt come over too. Andrew has to hold one of Matt’s hands when he touches him for the first time. Unlike Neil, Matt is significantly bigger than Andrew and, while he knows that Matt won’t hurt him, he has a hard time remembering that it’s Matt’s hands and no one else’s. So they hold hands and Andrew makes Neil stay close by too.

The first time Andrew takes his bands off is the first time they try something like this without Neil around. Matt cries. He had over a year to make his peace with Neil’s scars before they got together. He had no idea about Andrew’s.

“Didn’t they hurt you enough?” There’s just tears pouring down Matt’s face when he sees the extent of the damage Andrew’s wrecked upon himself. Neil had always told him that Andrew could be self-destructive but he’d never imagined anything like this. With Andrew’s permission, he starts pressing kisses to the scarred skin on his wrists, moving slowly up until he can rest his head in the crook of his neck. “Oh, Andy,” he mumbles into his skin. He doesn’t know what else to say.

#just a pipe dream #all for the game #the foxhole court #aftg #all for the gay #tfc #andrew minyard #the foxes #andrew joseph minyard #neil josten #matt boyd #mandreil #reveal to me your deepest desires

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doodlingstuff · 4 years

Text

Comeback, part 5

Chapter 13: Wherever you are right now, know somehow

Keep reading here or jump to AO3 for the whole thing :)

All comments, kudos, likes and shares make my day shine ❤

***

Fuck recoveries.

They were long, difficult, painful, and boring. And that was without counting the insufferable amount of people constantly coming and going. Cheering, talking, bringing useless things, offering nonsense, trying to be useful when they were the exact opposite.

That’s why Andrew preferred to stay with Neil at night when things went quiet and no one but him could bring the striker out from his panic attacks or his stubbornness for keep pushing when he was supposed to be resting.

Some of those nights were actually good. They got to spend time alone. They could talk. Andrew would tell in full detail what he did to keep Neil safe. The boy would listen and maybe, he would offer a memory or two from his years on the run. The places he went to, the landscapes he saw, the good thing he had.

Other nights weren’t so good. Neil would wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, glassy eyes, and shaking hands, desperate to get up, to run again, to do something, and Andrew would grab his neck, force him to breathe, make him focus on one thing only instead of the full road ahead. Make Neil see his achievements and not the losses until he was calm enough to sleep again.

There were fewer occasions when the terror in Neil’s eyes won’t leave him as one nightmare overlapped with another, and the pain returned fresh like Riko was still chaining him to a bed to use his body as a canvas for his knife skills, making Neil fight against the cuffs pinning him on site and rubbing raw his skin. Shouting until his voice was gone or a heavy cane, mad because of the noise, would beat him unconscious for Riko to keep doing his will on a marred and limp body without restrictions.

On those few nights, Andrew would ask, force an answer from Neil’s fright, and the blond would climb to the bed and sit beside his frightened pipe dream, allowing him to grab Andrew like a lifesaver. Those rare times were also terrifying for Andrew. He never pictured Neil like the type who cried. As tears wet his jeans, the twin would make his best to offer comfort, even if he didn’t know how. He would streak the auburn locks, let the striker squeeze his arms and hands, allow him to hold onto his waist like Andrew was the only thing who could keep the both afloat until the memories resided and his breath became even again.

That’s how the next fifteen nights went by, and then, Neil was allowed to go home.

***

Neil’s release is on Saturday. After tons of arrangements, several arguments, and a few knives out to make some points clear, Andrew is driving to Abby’s place. The auburn-haired fast asleep on the backseat, cuddled with the bunch of blankets and pillows that Andrew shoved in for him.

He is being extra careful on the way to avoid startling Neil. Even Nicky is silent during the ride and although Kevin and the twin are again on sort of speaking terms, the big man has very clear that Exy won’t be an accepted topic yet. Maybe not ever. There is still a long way to go for that, and no one is ready. But banning the talk doesn’t necessarily mean that he is going to be useful or smart anytime soon.

When they arrive, Aaron heads straight for the house without losing a second. At least he leaves the door open. Nicky and Kevin rush to the trunk to get out Neil’s things and the fucking wheelchair. Andrew really wants to shove it inside of their asses. And for the millionth time in the past weeks, he wants to bring Riko back to life and kill him over and over until he gets tired, which is highly unlikely after all the damage he managed to cause.

By the time Andrew makes it to the back seat, Neil is flinching at the sight of the chair.

“Yes or no?”

Scared glassy eyes turn to Andrew, then the fucking chair again, and back to the blond. “No.”

It’s too easy to take the damned thing out of the way and scoop Neil up. He is still too skinny, so it takes no effort for Andrew to carry him inside and place the man on a bed in the room that used t o be Andrew’s when he stays for holidays.

In a couple of minutes Neil is settled, and the rest of the day goes by between visits and Abby’s care. Andrew tries to vanish a couple of times, but the striker asks him to stay every time, so the blond stays until they are left alone again and Neil asks him to get by his side.

As Neil is about to fall asleep, Andrew allows himself to get lost in his new features. The sharp cheekbones, the hair that seems darker in the dim light of dusk, his eyelashes extending over the fucking four tattoo. The scars that frame his jaw, his eyes, his nose. It’s almost too much to bear. The blond has the sudden urge-as he’s had for the past weeks-to make Neil wake up and ask for a kiss. Or two. Or a lifetime of them, if truth needs to be told.

Being like this, it’s too hard to remember that he wants nothing, and yet, the pipe dream proved to be real, so it catches Andrew off guard finding himself about to brush his lips over the reddish hair. He is even more surprised by what he discovers in his faint slip.

“When the fuck was the last time you got a shower?”

“ Mmm ?” He was probably already asleep, judging by his hoarse mumble. “I don’t know. I didn’t like everyone’s hands on me.”

Andrew starts moving before he can give much thought to what he is about to do and gets out of the bedroom to get ready everything he needs.

When he gets back, Neil is cuddled against the pillows. It’s almost cruel to disturb him when he looks so peaceful, but he stinks . There is no softness in Andrew when he rips the blankets from him. “Yes or no?”

Neil blinks once. Twice. It’s the first time he sees Andrew without his armbands. Icy blue eyes are awake again and traveling the lines that the twin carved over and over so many years ago, when shouting and crying and fighting wasn’t enough to let all of his pain out. Lines that were cut open again in December by Proust, while Neil was thinking that his sacrifice had been respected.

“Yes?”

“Try again until I believe you.”

“Yes,” He repeats, more secure.

Andrew lifts Neil again and heads to the bathroom.

“Can you stand for a while?” Neil nods.

The twin takes off Neil’s socks before placing his feet gently on the floor. The boy is as unsteady as a newborn deer, but he holds tight to the sink. Andrew turns on the shower and gets back to undress his striker. He takes his time. He tries to fool himself thinking it’s because he wants to be careful, but he is also taking in every inch of Neil.

Awe and hatred fight inside his belly, the same way that beauty and brutality mix in the striker’s body. Andrew contemplates every scar and bruise, old and new.

His deal with the Moriyamas wasn’t fair. They should’ve granted him a full year to make the job as painful as it could be, for as long as it could be, in order to try to make them suffer as much as Neil has along his life.

A trembling hand clenching the collar of his shirt snaps Andrew back to the bathroom. The touch wasn’t allowed, but it doesn't feel bad. In fact, he wants more, but Neil can’t hold himself anymore.

The blond carries him again and places the skinny body on the plastic chair he got inside before. Then, he gets rid of his shoes and socks and decides at the last moment that he doesn’t want the feel of wet pants, so he takes them off too. There is something in his face that wants to resemble a smile when Neil swallows at the sight of his bare legs. He steps in.

In theory, Neil has enough strength and he’s been to sufficient therapies to work through a shower on his own, but Andrew wants to try and see if whatever is fluttering inside of him gets bored with the tasks, or gets to summersault as it does with anything concerning Neil Josten.

He works efficiently through his hair and limbs and lets the striker take care of the rest.

The deep red marks on both of Neil’s ankles make Andrew kneel in front of him and inspect them closely. During the stay at the hospital, amputation was an ugly word repeated constantly on Neil’s back. Fortunately, the gashes are healing. Too slow, but steady, and the blond can release some tension he didn’t know he was carrying.

Then, all his thoughts turn into white noise when he gets distracted by the striker's crotch.

Hunger that Andrew thought was well satisfied growls furious inside. He uppers his gaze to regain control, but Neil’s blushed cheeks and parted lips only make the hardness in his underwear get worse. He gets closer to that pretty mouth.

“Yes or no?” He asks with a sharp breath.

“Yes”.

When their lips touch for the first time, is every bit as sweet and savory and delicious and addictive as Andrew had wondered since they met. Their tongues meet in a dance of doubt and delight. He wants more, so more. There is no room for nothing inside of him anymore. Not after everything is filled by the man in front of him.

Neil has his scarred hands holding at the sides of the seat. Andrew releases his hold on the back of the chair and takes the boney fingers in his to guide them towards his neck. “Only shoulders and up.” he indicates with a jagged breath before taking another try of Neil’s mouth.

Hands get tangled behind his neck for a moment before making way up through his half-wet hair. They curl and tug and dig deep into his scalp.

Next time he opens his eyes to get some air back, he notices the striker is hard as himself. He takes a hand closer to the boy’s thigh, without touching, but the message is clear. “Yes or no?”

The grin he receives is enough to light the whole house. “Yes. Always yes.”

The urge in both is thicker than the vapor around. However, Andrew wants to savor the moment in case there is no replay because if he has learned something, is that every pipe dream always vanishes .

His hands cradle Neil’s hips. They are narrow and sharp. Several pounds below healthy, and beautiful regardless of the rips in his skin. His thumbs work slow circles around, finding without rush what they come from. Expert fingers take care of teasing the dream’s lower body while the twin leaves a trail of kisses along every reachable scar. Skin below his lips shudders depending on the place, but there’s never a call to stop as he leaves a trail of goosebumps, so Andrew goes back down, down, down, down, and swallows him whole.

It’s not forced. It’s not an experiment. If heaven existed, that must be what it tastes like.

The grip on his neck turns stronger as Neil gets closer and the hungry beast roaring inside of Andrew curls in pleasure once the striker has his release.

The blond has no intention of taking time to kiss his way back up again, so he clashes Neil’s mouth with another kiss.

“Do you want me to-” Andrew doesn’t let him finish the question. He goes in for another of his perfect kisses while his hand leaves Neil's hips to take care of his own needs. He wants Neil to do anything and everything to him of course. But not now. Not when he is still weak. Not after having so many boundaries pushed in one night. In the past weeks.

Andrew can’t tell yet what it means.

When he finishes, his breath is shaking against the arm with which he held to the back of the chair. Lips on his neck startle him. He really wants to be angry, but it’s impossible with those bright eyes bringing light to every shadow of his soul. He swallows and stands before he loses the last thread of control left.

Andrew helps Neil get dry and dressed. The boy is too tired to stand again, but neither care. The blond spares a glance to see if there’s anyone around, and when he makes sure the path is clear, he carries Neil back to the bedroom. His head rests on Andrew’s shoulder and he notices the moment when the auburn-haired falls asleep in his arms.

It’s harder than it should place the sleeping striker on the bed instead of keep cradling him, but Andrew is getting cold and a shower on his own should be enough to ease his nerves standing on edge after feeling so much. He thought that wasn’t possible, and there was Neil Josten to prove him wrong again.

Once he finishes cleaning and dressing, the twin wants to grab some food, but light blue cuts his path. “Sleep with me?”

There is a small smile behind the exhaustion and Andrew know as he approaches the bed and gets into the covers, when a “yes or no” is thrown at him and he has an arm holding him like he is something precious, that he belongs to the pipe dream and there is nothing he won’t do to keep that smile on his face.

That night, was a good night.

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nekojitachan · 5 years

Text

How to Steal a Million (part 4?)

I think it’s part 4. We’re going with part 4

Find previous part here

This is really along the ratings of ‘T’. Mentions of forgery, stealing, threats of bodily harm (it IS Neil and Andrew, after all) but nothing serious. Lots of snark.

*******

Neil pressed against one of the doorways which led into the main gallery of the Kleber-Lafayette Museum, where the Cellini Venus was currently on display; he’d heard so much talk about it at the party he’d attended with Allison that he couldn’t resist coming to see the exhibit. After a minute of surveilling the room (checking the exits, any signs of cameras, the position of the guards, etc.) he stepped away the room… only to bump into someone a moment later due to the crowd of people.

Only to bump into L.A.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Neil hissed as he recoiled in surprise (and forced himself not to pull a knife).

“Huh, funny how we only meet under the most ‘artistic’ of circumstances’,” L.A. remarked as he gestured to the artworks hung on the walls around them, his deep voice sarcastic yet expression impassive; he was dressed in black pants and a black dress shirt which actually looked expensive and showed off his muscular build.

“Funny how I always feel the urge to stab you when we meet,” Neil muttered as he smoothed down the front of his dark blue jumper; Allison had dressed him before he’d left her house that day, so at least he appeared presentable.

Why did he suddenly care if he appeared presentable?

There was the tiniest twitch to the left corner of L.A’s mouth before he stepped forward. “You might want to look into that.” While Neil glared at the asshole’s back, the American nodded toward the crowd. “Lot of people here to see your statue, seems it’s famous.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Neil accused the man as he reconsidered the whole ‘no stabbing’ thing.

L.A. held up his hands and shook his head. “I’m off duty at the moment. What about you?”

Before Neil could question why the asshole had asked that, someone called out his name; he turned with a fake smile and nodded to Aldritch, who held out his hand to be shook.

“I’m fine, how are you?” he asked in return, then motioned to L.A. “Uhm, Monsieur Aldritch, the director of the museum and….” Well, he couldn’t exactly say ‘Larcenous Asshole, semi-decent thief’, could he?

“Minyard,” L.A. said without missing a beat as he gave Aldritch’s extended hand a very brief shake. “Josten and I are old friends, we used to spar together.” He leaned in as if to share a secret. “I usually won,” he said in a mock whisper.

While Neil glared at the asshole and Aldritch chuckled, L.A. continued. “Beautiful exhibit you have here, lots of valuable things.”

“Oh yes,” Aldritch agreed as he turned to Neil. “Please notice all of the security precautions we’ve taken with your family’s statue.” Then he turned back to L.A., who somehow managed a semi-interested expression on his usually impassive face. “Are you interested in art, Mr. Minyard?” When L.A. nodded, Aldritch smiled. “And are you interested in security?” the middle-aged man asked.

“Oh yes, very much so,” Minyard assured him while Neil wondered if there was a suitable place to hide the asshole’s body (after it was perforated to his heart’s content).

“Wonderful, let me show the two of you around.” Aldritch didn’t wait for their agreement before he walked away; since L.A. followed, Neil gritted his teeth together and did the same.

Aldritch headed straight for the Cellini Venus; L.A. made a mocking bow then held out his left arm in a clear sign for Neil to take it. At first he was about to ignore it, then Neil ‘smiled’ and accepted it, just so he could ram his elbow into the bastard’s ribs.

L.A. stumbled but otherwise remained on his feet and didn’t make a sound, but gave Neil a narrow look as they reached the pedestal which housed the Cellini Venus. Aldritch, oblivious to what had just happened, smiled at them and motioned to the blue lights which circled the base of the pedestal. “These are infrared beams which surround the Venus.” When L.A., acting like a proper idiot, went to touch the Venus, Aldritch gasped and swatted at his hand. “No, don’t touch it! That will trigger an alarm if the beams are broken, it’s an E.E.D.A. system.”

“That’s so impressive.” L.A. somehow managed to put a little emotion in his voice while Neil fought not to roll his eyes over what was really a common security protocol. “What happens if a thief somehow manages to turn off the system?”

“No, not possible,” Aldritch insisted with a slight frown. “There’s guards here all the time, and only myself and two other people can disable the system. We have back-up generators in case there’s a power outage, and it’s offline to prevent anyone from hacking into it.”

“Amazing,” L.A. drawled. “You’ve truly thought of everything.”

“Yes, I feel that my family’s statue is in perfectly safe hands,” Neil said with a slight inclination of his head. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve an appointment I can’t be late for.”

“Oh, of course! I’m pleased you were able to stop by.” Aldritch wished him well, and somehow Neil wasn’t surprised when L.A. followed him out of the museum.

“Look, stay the hell away from this place or I’ll report you to the cops, whoever you are,” he insisted as he went over to where he’d parked the MG. “Go find something else to ‘liberate’.”

“Minyard, Andrew Minyard,” L.A. said with an offending sniff. “It’s like you don’t trust me or something.”

“Might have something to do with you breaking into my house,” Neil muttered as he climbed into the MG.

“That was us meeting cute.”

Neil stared at the insane American for a couple seconds before he shook his head. “Do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Despite Andrew’s (was that his real name?) curious tone, there was a hint of wariness in his hazel eyes.

“Stand in front of my car,” Neil asked as he motioned at the hood of the MG.

“Why?” Now there definitely was a gleam of wariness in Andrew’s eyes.

“So I can run you over and not have to worry about you bothering me anymore.”

The American radiated disapproval as he crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “As much as I find this flirting routine somewhat amusing, I need to talk to you about-“

Once Neil heard the ‘f’ word, he started the car’s engine then took off, unfortunately without hitting the asshole.

*******

Andrew collapsed on the bed in Kevin’s hotel room and sighed.

“If you’re about to rant about the coffee again, I don’t want to hear it,” Kevin said as he henpecked at the keyboard, his attention focused on the monitor.

“As if you’re bundle of joy until you get a few shots of espresso in you,” Andrew muttered while he scrubbed at his face with the palms of his hands.

“I don’t need ten spoonfuls of sugar and a pint of milk to go along with them,” Kevin argued before he turned to look at Andrew. “Now tell me you did something today other than haunt several bakeries.”

“Fuck you.” Andrew gave his partner the finger as he sat up. “Only two bakeries today, and yes, I did.” When Kevin gave him an expectant look, he rolled his eyes. “I talked to one Bernard Grammont, who is certain that Stuart Josten is a forger though he lacks any concrete proof. Also, I ran into Neil Josten again, who was checking out the display at the Kleber-Lafayette Museum.” He did his best not to wince as he felt a twinge in his ribs from where the sneaky bastard had hit him. “Didn’t seem to want to run into anyone there, which was rather odd.”

“Hmm, it does seem suspicious, but remember we’re not being paid to prove anything with Josten, at least not yet.”

Grammont would have hired Andrew to investigate Josten… but for some reason he didn’t want to work for the man. Maybe there was something to Renee warning him about the family… or maybe the game he’d started with Neil Josten would be ruined if money was involved.

Whatever the reason, for once Andrew found himself interested in something other than cracking a case or catching a bad guy. The more he interacted with Neil Josten, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about the enigmatic young man with the pale blue eyes and sharp tongue.

He’d most likely be disappointed once he got to the bottom of the mystery, but until then… until then he’d let things play out as a rare break from boredom. What could it cost him? Other than some bruises and a bit of blood loss, that was.

He might want to stop by the nearest pharmacy the next time he was out.

*******

Neil took a sip of the red wine he’d barely drank all night and managed one of his ‘fake’ smiles everyone except those who knew him (a rare few) fell for. “It’s a very nice wine.”

Riko grinned and tapped a finger against the base of his own wine glass. “My family owns the vineyard.”

“Oh really?” Neil managed to look impressed by that declaration, even though he knew very well what all the Moriyamas owned (and that the Hatfords owned a vineyard or two as well). “But it doesn’t have the Moriyama name on it.”

“It’s under one of our subsidiary holdings,” Riko explained, as if he held any real power when it came to the Stone Mountain corporation.

“It’s always good to diversify.” Or so Neil had been told – that’s why Stuart did his art forgery thing, Uncle Will and Henry oversaw the main business, Jamie was expanding into online money laundering and had offered for Neil to help (something he was considering, if he could extract Stuart out of this most recent mess), and Ally… eh, Ally was Ally.

Riko beamed at Neil as if he was a pet which had done a particularly clever trick. “See, you’re different from the others, I can be myself with you and not have to talk about silly stuff.”

No, not really; Riko hadn’t started screaming and throwing a temper tantrum yet, which was his ‘real self’ by all accounts, but Neil merely ‘smiled’ and had another minute sip of the wine (which was so-so) while Riko rambled on (more like bragged) about how rich and powerful his family was. All the while, Neil glanced around to make sure that Matt and Dan were seated on the other side of the room, his ‘back-up’ for the night.

As soon as Riko paused for breath, Neil ‘smiled’ and poured him more wine. “I’ve a feeling that there’s something you’re holding back.” When Riko stared at him in interest, he tilted his head to the side. “Something… something to do with my uncle, perhaps?”

He knew that Riko had bought a painting from Stuart a few years ago, and was renowned for his own collection; the Moriyamas were famous patrons of the arts, and Riko had believed himself to be something of an artist while growing up – him and his foster brother, Kevin Day. From what Stuart had told Neil, Kevin was the one with the real talent, but there had been some sort of accident which had left the young man unable to paint anymore, and Riko had eventually gone to work for his uncle, Tetsuji.

Yet Riko had said nothing to Neil when they’d met at the party the other night, had done his best to flirt with Neil until he’d agreed to a date. That behavior had made Neil suspicious as hell, made him want to figure out what was going on with a scumbag like Riko Moriyama.

Well, and it was always nice to get on Renee’s good side, which would happen if he and Allison could figure out some way to get Riko in trouble while helping out the man’s assistant, Jean Moreau, whom Renee had somehow befriended….

Riko appeared startled for a moment, and then tried some sort of shy act which Neil could see through with ease. “Well… to be honest… yes, there is something I wanted to talk to you about in regard to your uncle – your uncle and his collection.”

Neil managed to retain the mild smile while he braced himself for what might come next, if it had anything to do with Stuart’s ‘little hobby’ or not (had Riko figured out that the Monet he’d bought was a fake?).

“That is, I-“

One of the servers approached the table and gave a short bow. “My apologies, Mr. Moriyama, but there’s an urgent call for you.”

Riko frowned as he patted his right thigh as if to check his phone, which hadn’t rung or vibrated during their meal. “That’s odd, I shouldn’t be interrupted tonight.” He then gave an apologetic smile to Neil. “I’m sorry, but it has to be important if they tracked me down here.”

“That’s okay.” Neil watched him leave before he slumped back into the velvet-covered booth… only to jerk upright when Andrew slid into it a few seconds later. “Oh for fuck’s sake, really?”

The slightest of frowns tugged at the corners of Andrew’s full lips. “Is that any way to greet me after the trouble I went through to arrange a few minutes alone with you?”

Neil’s smile took on a sharp edge. “Well, I can do the usual way when you startle me.” His hand crept toward the butter knife on the table while he spoke.

“I thought you French people weren’t supposed to be so violent,” Andrew said as he leaned away a little.

“You’re certainly living up to Americans being rude cliché, now go away.” Neil made a shooing motion with his napkin. “My, uhm, dinner partner isn’t known for his even temper.”

“Your ‘dinner partner’ is a known psycho. Nice taste in dates there,” Andrew said with blatant disapproval.

“He’s not my date and I’m not interested in the opinion of a barely competent thief, now go away before you need more than a simple bandage,” Neil hissed out.

For some reason, Andrew’s left eyebrow raised the slightest amount. “I’ve something important to tell you, if you’ll stop trying to kill me for five minutes.”

“Where’s the fun in that, and leave before he returns!” As annoying as the American could be, Neil didn’t want to deal with the mess Riko could leave if he returned and found someone sitting at his table with the person he’d asked out for the night.

“I will, if you agree to meet me tomorrow afternoon. Suite 136, the Ritz.”

Andrew showed no sign of leaving, while Neil could see Riko across the room; luckily, Matt had gotten up and currently was running interference. “Fine,” he gritted out, conceding that Andrew had won for the moment with ill grace. “Now go before you really do get stabbed.”

“Tomorrow,” Andrew said before he grabbed Neil’s wineglass, managed to gulp down its contents in a couple seconds then slipped away.

Neil really should stab the bastard, he thought as he fought not to grin.

His amusement vanished when a scowling Riko sat down beside him. “I think it was a prank call, there was nothing but gibberish on the line,” Riko muttered as he pulled out his phone and typed something on it. “I’m going to have someone look into it.”

Neil hoped that Andrew had done a good job of covering his tracks and mumbled something soothing until Riko was finished. “Now where were we… ah yes, your uncle’s collection.” Riko summoned what he probably thought was a friendly smile but was ‘off’ enough to make Neil want to shiver. “I have to admit, I’ve always admired it, especially one piece in particular.”

“And that is?” Neil asked, no longer certain that Riko had realized that he’d bought a fake.

“The Cellini Venus.” Riko’s gaze grew unfocused as he discussed the statue. “There’s something about it, something that haunts me. I admit, I was happy to meet you since I’d hoped you might be able to intervene with your uncle on my behalf since he’s refused all offers to buy the statue before now, but I’m enjoying our time together.”

Ah, that’s what it was – another person enraptured with the Venus. Neil gave him a sympathetic smile and dared a slight pat on the hand. “I understand, it is a true masterpiece and I wish I could offer it to you, but my uncle is adamant about it remaining in the family. If that ever changes, I’ll reach out to you first.” Not that it ever would.

“It was worth a try, wasn’t it? And at least I’ve you as a consolation prize.” Riko grinned as he twisted his hand around to capture Neil’s.

Not quite, but Neil was still for a couple of seconds since he noticed the server returning to the table and used the young man asking if there was anything they needed as an excuse to tug his hand free and order a cup of tea rather than jab the assuming asshole with a fork. That was the signal for Dan to call him soon after the drink arrived so he’d have an excuse to end ‘the date’.

Unfortunately, he had to agree to see Riko again, but he was free of the man’s presence for the night. After thanking Dan and Matt via text and assuring Allison that he was safely on his way home, he ensured that he wasn’t followed to the small mansion he shared with Stuart and Davis, where he gladly collapsed into his own bed.

He wasn’t in the mood to leave his home the next day, but he’d promised Andrew to meet up with him, as well as brunch with Matt and tea with Renee. After lounging around for part of the morning, he finally got up and dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt of Matt’s then went downstairs. Davis shook his head at his appearance and handed him a cup of tea before Neil went into Stuart’s study.

“There you are, interested in some breakfast?” Stuart asked as he motioned to the plates of food set out on the small table.

“I don’t have much time, I’ll eat something at Matt’s,” Neil said as he grabbed a small croissant to hold him over until then. “You’ll be happy to know that you can keep selling your artwork to Riko Moriyama since he has no clue about them being fakes. He asked me out because he was hoping I could get you to sell him the Cellini Venus.”

A predatory grin spread across Stuart’s face. “That’s a relief, he’s terrible at bargaining.”

“He’s terrible at a lot of things,” Neil muttered; during their conversation, the doorbell rang and Davis admitted the guest.

Stuart put aside his own cup of tea to go see who it was and Neil followed; there was an older gentleman dressed in a suit who nodded when Stuart greeted him, then pulled out a notepad to ask him about being the owner of one ‘twenty-nine inch marble statue named Venus by the artist Benevento Cellini’.

“Yes, that’s my statue, on loan to the museum,” Stuart agreed with a hint of suspicion. “What is this about?”

“It’s in regard to the insurance loan,” the man responded as he tapped the thick folder held beneath his left arm.

“What loan? I’ve never insured it since it’s priceless,” Stuart insisted while dread grew inside of Neil, thick and cold and slimy.

“It’s a precaution that the museum has taken for all the pieces in the exhibit,” the man explained, “except somehow your signature was overlooked on the Venus’ document.” He glanced around went over to the nearest table (18th century French) so he could pull it out, the intent clear for Stuart to sign it. “There’s no cost to you, it means that the work of art is covered until it’s returned to your possession in good order.”

Stuart approached the man with his hands clasped behind his back; Neil could tell that his uncle did his best to appear unruffled by this sudden complication. “That’s it? I just have to sign the paper?”

“Yes, and the statue will be fully insured for one million. It’s required of all the items for them to be in the exhibit and really should have been done weeks ago.” The man held out a pen for Stuart to use to sign the document.

It would look odd if Stuart refused and suddenly pulled out the Venus, especially when the exhibit already started. Still, Neil felt that sensation of dread grow as his uncle signed the paper. “Is there anything else? Any other requirements?” he asked as he approached his uncle.

The man nodded as he folded up the signed document. “As part of the insurance verification, the statue will be examined to ensure its authenticity. The company will send someone to do that on Friday, if you’d like to be there when it happens. This should have been explained already.”

Neil could barely nod, the same for Stuart, as the man promised to send them details before he left and apologized for the confusion. As soon as the door closed behind him, Stuart started to curse up a storm while Neil slumped against the wall.

“I can’t believe this, they told me nothing about authenticating it! How dare they not trust me!” Stuart ranted once he stopped cursing.

It was on the tip of Neil’s tongue to say ‘I told you so’, but how would that help the situation? Instead, he went back for his unfinished cup of tea then put on his shoes so he could leave.

“Where are you going at a time like this? We need to figure something out, to come up with a plan!” Stuart called out from the salon, where he was busy pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“I have,” Neil said as he stood up. “I’m going to steal the damn thing back.”

*******

#nekojitachanfics #mumbling into the void #how to steal a million fic #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #stuart hatford #andreil #aftg au #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #riko moriyama #more snark #kevin day

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emmerrr · 5 years

Note

Em, I got two for you but I’ll send them in separate asks! First, #6 for Andreil.

6: “Explain it to me again - why do we need to pretend to be married?”

sorry this one took a little longer i couldn’t decide how to tackle it, so welcome to an exy free au land where andrew and neil are roommates ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ [this is also on ao3 if you prefer]

Really, Neil should have known that telling a lie that specific was going to come back and bite him in the ass one day.

But it had been so convenient.

Andrew sat on the other end of the sofa, turned towards Neil, an impassive look on his face.

“Explain it to me again,” he said.

Neil sighed. “I have this thing for work on Friday. An awards thing. I’m nominated for best sport’s column or some shit, I dunno. Point is, you have to come.”

“And why do I have to come?”

Neil sighed again, and looked at his hands so he didn’t have look at Andrew. “Because they think we’re married.”

“I see,” Andrew said measuredly. “Why would they think that, exactly?”

Neil mumbled, “Because I might have…uhh, told them that we were.”

Andrew sat there in silence as he took that in, before shrugging and saying, “Yep, that’ll do it.”

Andrew had the flu when it had first happened, and Neil had begged off work early to go and look after him. He hadn’t been working at the paper for long at that point, and Seth, one of his least favourite colleagues, had snidely said, “Who’s Andrew then? Your boyfriend?”

Without missing a beat, Neil had replied, “He’s my husband, actually,” even though Andrew was his roommate (and friend) and not even remotely his husband. He’d just wanted to make Seth squirm, and it had the added bonus of getting Neil’s boss to let him leave straight away, clearly wanting to avoid Neil making a complaint against Seth.

After that, being ‘married’ to Andrew just had its perks. It got Neil out of so much overtime that he didn’t want to do, or socialising out of hours with his co-workers.

People seemed to let him off the hook for bailing a lot more if he was going home to spend time with his husband than if he was to say he was just going to hang with his roommate. It was accepted, no questions asked.

Except now it seemed to be a talking point around the office that no one had met Andrew, that Neil never brought him to any of the gatherings he did show up to, that Neil never really talked about him that much.

Then Neil got nominated for that award, and everyone just assumed Andrew would be there too.

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll be able to make it,” Neil said. The only reason he was going was because he had to; awards shows were notoriously boring.

Everyone in earshot had shot Neil sympathetic, concerned looks. “He’s not coming to an important event in his husband’s career?” Matt said, frowning.

“Sounds like a keeper,” Allison said, sarcasm dripping in her tone.

Defensiveness rose to Neil’s surface on behalf of his husband, which was ridiculous because he didn’t have a husband. Theoretically, if Andrew was his husband, Neil was sure he would go. If Neil asked him to.

“No, I mean, I’m not sure if he can get out of work,” Neil said hastily and stupidly. What was it to him if everyone thought his fake marriage was in jeopardy? “He’d love to go.”

“I’m sure he can get off work if he explains the situation,” Dan said, then smiled brightly. “So I guess we’ll see him there?”

Neil had been backed into a corner. He’d nodded weakly, and then at the end of the day had traipsed home and waited for Andrew to get home from his job at the library so he could explain the whole thing.

Andrew listened as Neil filled him in on how exactly he’d gotten them into this mess. He didn’t look annoyed, although he did look vaguely amused at certain points, which Neil was taking as a good sign.

“Sorry,” Neil finally finished. “I should…I can just tell them the truth. This isn’t your problem.”

“Makes no difference to me,” Andrew said. “I don’t mind going to your awards show.”

Neil brightened. “Really? Even though…I mean, they all think we’re married.”

“Yeah, I got that part, Neil.”

“...That doesn’t bother you?”

Andrew looked at him, unflinching. “Why would that bother me?”

Neil wasn’t going to argue if Andrew was up for it, so he shook his head. “No reason.”

Andrew showing up should be enough to get everyone at work off his back for a while, so Neil was in good spirits in the days leading up to the awards show. But he was also, to his surprise, carrying a fair amount of nervous-excited energy. Considering he really didn’t care about the award, he had to attribute it to the fact that Andrew was coming with him. It was absurd; he spent lots of time with Andrew. Why wouldn’t he? They were friends.

Best friends.

Andrew accompanying him meant that Neil didn’t have to pick his own outfit either. Andrew sorted him out in a fitted suit, navy with gold leaf detail. He wore a black shirt underneath, top two buttons undone. He never would have picked it out for himself in a million years, but he liked how he looked in it.

Andrew, for his part, was decked out in a maroon suit with a pale pink shirt. His tie was a midnight blue and adorned with constellations.

“You look good,” Neil told him honestly.

Andrew fixed Neil’s collar. His hands lingered, and he glanced into Neil’s eyes and then away. “So do you.” He stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go.”

They were the last of Neil’s office to arrive at the venue and were quickly shown to their table by an usher. They were on a table with Dan, Matt, and Allison, their seats side-by-side, name-tags in place. Andrew held his up to show Neil, bemused. It said Andrew Josten in a fancy font.

“Don’t remember agreeing to take your name,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dan said, then looked quizzically to Neil. “Then is Josten not your surname?”

“It is,” Neil said. “We’re the, uh, Josten-Minyard’s.”

Andrew’s snort was audible to no one but Neil as they took their seats. Neil made quick work of introducing Andrew to everyone, and when he finished they all sat there and beamed at Andrew expectantly.

“So, Andrew,” Matt said. “Neil never tells us anything. Where did you guys meet?”

“College,” Andrew replied. This was true.

“Bless, college sweethearts,” Dan said. “Did you know he was the one right away?”

Neil groaned and shrank lower in his chair.

“Let’s just say he grew on me,” Andrew said, which made everyone at the table laugh, but there was something in his tone that made Neil sneak a look at him. His expression hadn’t changed, but he didn’t return Neil’s look.

A server arrived and passed out champagne, and Neil hoped the interruption would nip the line of questioning in the bud.

Unfortunately not.

“What did you notice first about him?” Allison asked. “Kid’s got killer eyes, am I right?”

“His ass,” Andrew said bluntly, and Neil choked on his champagne.

Allison cackled, and Matt thumped Neil jovially on the back. “Well there had to be something about him that piqued your interest since Neil’s such an asshole,” Allison continued, but she said it fondly, because she was an asshole too.

“Sure he is,” Andrew said, but this time he caught Neil’s gaze and held it. “That’s my favourite thing about him.”

For a few seconds, Neil let everything fade to the background and stared back at Andrew. For those seconds, they were the only people in the room, and Neil finally thought he was starting to understand something that had been right under his nose the entire time.

No, Andrew wasn’t his husband, but Andrew was his everything. Theirs was the most important relationship in Neil’s life, the one he held above all the others. It was that simple, and he couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to see it.

“Oh,” he said, and the room came rushing back in.

Thankfully, the conversation shifted, and then the awards ceremony actually started so no one asked any more intrusive questions.

Neil was barely aware of what was going on on the stage, who was winning what. He clapped when other people clapped, but his mind was buzzing. He was very aware of Andrew sitting beside him and was struck by the urge to reach out and take a hold of Andrew’s hand, just to see what he’d do. He refrained.

When it came time for Neil’s award, Dan excitedly said, “This is it!” which Neil was grateful for because he hadn’t been paying enough attention to figure that out on his own.

The nominees were announced, and Neil thought he just about managed to smile when his name was mentioned. He hadn’t been expecting to win, so it did startle him a little when he was, in fact, announced as the winner. He sat there, silently stunned, until Andrew put his hand on the back of Neil’s neck, leaned close to his ear and said, “That’s you, Neil. You won.”

He got to his feet and made his way to the stage to rapturous applause, and accepted his award. It felt heavy in his hands, and Neil let a flicker of professional pride run through his veins.

He stepped up to the podium to make his speech; impromptu, as he hadn’t prepared one. He really hadn’t anticipated winning.

“Uhh, thanks to my friends and colleagues, Dan, Matt, and Allison, you’re all giant pains in my ass but I couldn’t imagine working with anyone else. My editor, David Wymack, your constant threats to sign me up for a marathon if I miss a deadline work wonders, so a part of this belongs to you.” Good-natured laughter trickled through the crowd, and Neil sought out his table. Andrew was easy enough to pick out, but maybe that was because Neil was just always looking for him.

“Most of all,” he continued, “thank you to Andrew, for putting up with me, and for coming with me tonight. I hope you know how much I appreciate it.”

Speech over, Neil nodded once again to the crowd who began clapping again, and then he quickly departed from the stage. He didn’t sit down when he reached his table, but he put his hand on the back of Andrew’s chair and leaned down.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” Andrew said at once, then stood up and took Neil’s hand, leading him out of the venue.

He still hadn’t let go when they were in the parking lot heading for the car. “I should have asked,” Andrew said, looking down at their joined hands. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Neil said. “I want you to.”

There was a pause. “Do you want me to because it helps you keep up your fake husband story, or do you just want to?”

Neil squeezed Andrew’s hand. “We’re outside, away from prying eyes, and I haven’t let go. I want to.”

They reached the car, still holding hands, and Andrew pushed Neil up against the driver’s door. His eyes flickered to Neil’s lips, intention clear, but he didn’t kiss him.

“Why now?” he asked, just a hint of frustration in his tone. “After all this time?”

“I don’t know. I just...it’s you, Andrew. You’re who I want to see at the end of the day. You’re who I want to eat breakfast with. You’re who I want to thank when I win meaningless awards.”

Andrew sighed, and pressed his forehead into Neil’s shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

“I know,” Neil said apologetically. “But I got there in the end.”

They stood there like that, fingers intertwined, Andrew so close but not close enough, and then Neil couldn’t take it anymore.

“Andrew? Can you kiss me now?”

Andrew raised his head. “Well,” he said, “I guess I am your husband after all.”

He leaned in, and the kiss was gentler than Neil expected it to be. He liked it; it was like a promise of what was to come now that they had time.

They got into the car and Andrew got them moving, heading home.

“Oh god,” Neil said when they were almost home. “How the fuck am I going to explain this? You have to marry me for real, I can’t do it, it’s too awkward.”

Andrew smiled, a small thing, but a true one.

“Buy me dinner first,” he said.

Neil smiled back; his heart felt full.

“I can do that.”

#the foxhole court #andreil #tumblr prompts #tfc fic #tfc

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prideandprejudicees · 6 years

Text

Andrew didn’t know if he was getting older or if the scene at Eden’s Twilight was getting duller; what he did know was that sitting at the table and watching Aaron and Nicky fail at dancing while Kevin tried to yell at them over the music about a book he had just finished was quickly becoming less ‘boring’ and more ‘aggravating’.

When it became apparent that Aaron and Nicky were steadfastly ignoring him, Kevin turned to stare at him with a pronounced pout. Andrew gave him a warning look, but Kevin paid him no heed and staggered back over to the table. He sat with so much force that he nearly went tumbling off his stool, and Andrew made no move to right him. Disappointingly, Kevin managed to keep his balance and sat up (mostly) straight. “Andrew,” he said, glaring blearily at him, “Andrew.”

“What.” Andrew forced the words out through gritted teeth. Times like these had him really questioning why he put himself through these trips to Eden’s every goddamn week (that question was usually answered in the looseness of Aaron’s shoulders and the easiness of Nicky’s laugh and even goddamn Kevin’s bright-eyed rants about whatever had caught his attention that week when they were surrounded by the familiar surroundings of the pounding music and flashing lights).

“I was trying to tell the others about how Marie Antoinette was villainised-”

Andrew swept himself to his feet, and scowled down at Kevin in all his five-feet glory. When he was greeted with the same disappointed pout, he said “I’m getting more drinks” and Kevin’s face melted into a look of contented expectation.

He ignored the drink orders that were called after him as he made his way to the bar, but they all knew he’d bring them back what they wanted anyway. The crowd of people parted easily around him as his elbows carved out a path through squirming bodies. By the time he reached the bar he was breathing heavily and trying hard to hide it; he hated to think that Kevin might have had a point about his smoking habit ruining his lungs.

“More of the same?” Roland called. The heat behind the bar had his hair curling up at the ends, and Andrew watched a droplet of sweat slide down his neck and beneath his shirt. He entertained the notion of slipping into the back room with Roland after he dropped the drinks back at the table; his group were too giddy to notice his absence, and he knew that Roland would ask.

“Kevin wants a triple vodka cranberry.” was all he said. Roland nodded and set about mixing the drinks, and Andrew settled against the bar to wait.

The tray was only half full of drink when another body settled next to Andrew’s, far enough to not be entirely invasive, but close enough for the intent to be unmistakable. Looking up, Andrew is met with large blue eyes and shiny red curls that reflect the pulsating lights from the dance floor.

“Hi there.” the stranger smiles. It’s a charming smile for sure, but it’s obvious that the intention behind it is to be charming. Andrew isn’t convinced; despite the attractive face, it’s clear that the guy doesn’t really smile that often. The expression looks complicated and uncomfortable on him.

Andrew raises an eyebrow in lieu of replying, just to be difficult. The guy is good-looking - really good-looking, if Andrew is going to be honest with himself. Since he’s not in the habit of lying to himself, he takes in the pretty eyes, straight teeth, and interesting scars along his left cheekbone. Then he takes all that interest and shoves it down deep where it won’t bother him.

The lack of reply seems to set the guy on edge, because he looks briefly to the dancefloor and then quickly back to Andrew. “I’m Neil,” he says. The uncomfortable smile is still on his face, and it’s starting to become irritating.

“What do you want?” Andrew checks on Roland’s progress with the drinks, but it looks like he’s gotten distracted with another customer further up the bar.

“Uh,” the guy’s smile flickers for a moment, and then drops completely. He leans in close, and Andrew hates himself for getting distracted by the swell of his bottom lip, “Okay, look. My friends were kinda getting on my back about me being single, and I said that it was by choice and if I wanted to I could get anyone I wanted. And obviously that’s an extremely presumptuous thing to say, so they told me to prove it. So, uh, here I am. And here you are. And if you’d like to maybe help me out with this, that would be awesome.”

Andrew stares at Neil for a moment that seems to stretch on forever. Neil stares back with no signs of the discomfort that people usually display when he maintains eye contact for too long. “You want me to play along with you and pretend that you’re some kind of sex god?”

Neil flushes a gratifyingly bright pink. “I never said I was-”

“So what do you want me to do?” Andrew interrupts. His eyes are fixed on Neil’s rosy cheeks. The alcohol and the heat are making him stupid, he thinks.

Neil cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, and stares at Andrew in mild disbelief. “Wait. You’ll play along?”

Andrew leans on the bar and tilts his head to the side. “You’d better get this show on the road in case your friends begin to get suspicious, hm?”

That makes Neil shoot another look at the dance floor; this time Andrew catches a glimpse of the massive guy with ridiculous hair that shoots an enthusiastic thumbs up in their direction. Neil smiles back at him, but this one is small and wavering. Andrew likes it better; this one is real.

“There we go.” Roland announces as he sets the last of the drinks on the tray and pushes it in Andrew’s direction. His eyes flick curiously between him and Neil, before he raises his eyebrows at Andrew and leans against the bar.

When Andrew shakes his head, Roland takes it as the answer it is and moves on to serve other patrons further down the bar. When Andrew looks back to Neil, he finds that Neil hasn’t taken his eyes off him. “Quit staring,” he says “and tell me what you want from me.”

“Your, um,” suddenly Neil doesn’t seem so confident at all, and can’t quite make eye contact, “Your phone number, maybe?”

Andrew takes one of the shots on the tray and throws it back; it’s the only way he’ll get out of this situation still sane. He doesn’t even know why he’s entertaining this guy, until he looks back at him and gets an eyeful of those big blue eyes and stupid freckles and then it becomes very obvious indeed. “Give me your phone then,” he snaps, and it comes out harsher than he had intended.

Neil doesn’t seem to take offense, and he scrambles to search his pockets and then to hand his phone over. He obviously attempted to match Eden’s Twilight’s theme; his jeans look like they’ve been painted on and his shirt is constructed with a mixture of mesh and sheer black panels. Andrew can see scars, but he pointedly doesn’t look; he wonders if Neil dressed himself or if somebody else picked those clothes for him.

He briefly considers entering a fake number, but maybe the alcohol has affected him more than he had originally thought because the number he ends up saving into Neil’s phone is the same one he’s had for six years now. When he hands the phone back, Neil looks down at the saved contact details and says “Andrew.” His mouth moves slow and exaggerated around the letters, as if it’s his first time ever coming across the name.

Andrew swallows. “Is that all?”

“I don’t know.” Neil confesses, and shuffles closer. “What is it that sex gods usually do?”

If Andrew was smart, this would be the moment that he would step away from this frustratingly intriguing and stupidly pretty boy, and go back to his family with their drinks in hand. He would sit in silence and watch his people as they danced and got drunk and acted stupid, and then he would herd them into the car and back to the house and into bed. It was a routine. It was safe.

But Andrew isn’t as smart as he thinks he is, and so he says, “You’re an idiot. I don’t know if that makes me want to kiss you or shove you off a tall building.”

That, at the very least, seems to take Neil by surprise. His eyes widen, dark lashes almost touching his eye socket, and his mouth drops into a little ‘o’ shape. It only takes himself a minute to pull himself together, and then he’s looking at Andrew with a wicked grin that is at once light years better than the first two smiles he has seen and so, so, so much worse because this grin does something to Andrew on the inside. “Can I pick?”

“No.”

“Shame.” Neil’s eyes drop down to Andrew’s mouth, and then quickly flick back up.

Andrew narrows his eyes. He hates that he’s going to ask, but he knows he’ll probably hate himself more if he doesn’t. “You said you were single.” It comes out less like the question he intended it to be and more like an irrefutable statement of fact.

“Yeah.”

Andrew warred with himself for a long moment; Neil is silent, watching him and giving him the space to sort out what it was he wanted to say. It was rare for people to offer him that kind of consideration. He hated it. “Why?”

Neil blinks slowly, apparently surprised by the question. “Nobody’s caught my eye, I guess. I don’t really look at people like that.”

Ah. Of course. Andrew nods stiffly, viciously squashing down anything that even feels remotely like disappointment, because that’s a stupid thing to be feeling right now. He’s only exchanged a short conversation with this stupid pretty stranger; the fact that he respected his personal space and gave him time to think before speaking and flirted and smiled were completely coincidental.

“Your friend is getting worried.” he says for lack of anything else to say.

Neil glances over his shoulder at the big guy, but just waves his hand nonchalantly. “Matt’s not worried. Hovering is his way of being supportive.”

“Well,” says Andrew, “I think he believes you now.”

“You think so?”

“You got my number, didn’t you?”

“Mmm,” says Neil, and twists his phone in his hand. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only if you ask it quickly.”

“If I asked you on a date, what would you say?”

Andrew is quite sure that his eyebrows have risen so high that they’ve disappeared into his hairline. He violently beats down that little thing that felt almost like a flutter because no, he is not dealing with that. Instead he asks, “I thought you didn’t look at people in that way.”

Neil shrugs, a little self-conscious. “Not usually,” he confesses, “But, um. There’s a reason I came to talk to you, ah, specifically.” When Andrew doesn’t immediately reply, he hurries to continue, “We don’t have to go on a date if that makes you uncomfortable. We can do something simpler. We can, uh, just talk? Or I can walk away and we can both pretend this never happened-”

“Stop talking.”

Neil ceases at once. Andrew tries not to notice how well Neil respects his wishes, but it’s futile at this point. It’s like someone has dialled up all his senses and aimed them right at the man in front of him. He’s impossible to ignore.

Andrew takes one of those deep, stupid yoga breaths that Renee taught him. It’s supposed to centre his mind, or something, but instead it just makes him look like an idiot that can’t breathe properly. He abandons his yoga breathing immediately. “I am going to go back to my table now.”

It’s strange, how fast Neil’s face falls. Stranger still is how fast that disappointment is covered over by smooth impassiveness; he’s had practice at that. Andrew knows the skill needed for that particular trick intimately. He’s a little surprised, really, by how much hope had actually been building up in Neil’s face. He hadn’t noticed until it had been wiped out by that still expression that occupied his pretty face.

Andrew picks up the tray and hefts it over one shoulder. Before he leaves, he looks Neil right in the eyes. “You have my number.”

“I can delete it, if you want.”

“If I wanted you to delete it I wouldn’t have given it to you in the first place.”

“Okay.” Neil stares at him uncomprehendingly, and Andrew’s jaw clenches. He’s really going to have to spell it out for this asshole.

“Call me.” the words are ground out between gritted teeth, and he probably makes it sound more like a threat than an offer, but it has Neil brightening up so fast it’s jarring.

“Yeah,” breathes Neil, eyes rounder than ever, “Okay.”

Andrew has to leave before he says something even more stupid, but he supposes the damage is done.

After he deposits the drinks at their table and warns Kevin off complaining about how long he took, he sits down and looks back across the dancefloor. Nicky and Aaron have returned to the table and are downing more shots, but Andrew looks past them.

Neil has been pulled onto the dancefloor by his large friend, and Andrew isn’t surprised (and definitely isn’t endeared) to find that Neil is an altogether graceless and awkward dancer.

(If, when he catches Andrew’s eyes across the crowded club, he puts more effort into his movements, then that’s nobody's business)

(And if, the next morning, the text waiting for Andrew from an unknown number hurriedly saved makes him smile for the first time in many long, countless days, then that’s nobody’s business either)

#hello friends here is the fruit of my essay procrastination #andreil #aftg fic #tfc hc #molly writes

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amortm · 5 years

Text

* 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐔𝐏 , pretty kitties ! i'm terribly sorry abt my absence on the dash alongside you angels , & trust that i’m fully embarrassed of my slow ass , but i finally typed this baby out , & i can’t wait for y’all to meet my love , 𝒋𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔 !

* ╰ it’s an absolute dishonour to meet you , julianna / jules . at twenty - one , you’ve disgraced the peralta family name & failed to carry on their legacy as an elite . as a result , they’ve requested that we at the academy do our best to rid you of your venality , & seeing as though they’re worth 86m , we dutifully obliged . while your pleonastic & inexorable attributes have always promised failure , it’s your spar with pride & ghosting your breakout acting role after you found out your daddy secured it for you that got you committed . before we take possession of you , it’s imperative that we know that you are a cisfem who prefers she & her pronouns , & you resemble diana silvers . your birthday is on april 26th , making you a recalcitrant taurus , & you were transported to us all the way from vail , co . at the present time , you work off campus at seaside florist . go ahead & purchase that extra large suitcase , disgrace . you’re going to need it .

your name / age / pronouns / timezone / etc .

hiya loves ! i go by blue & she / her pronouns , i’m 9teen , & i’m a pst baby ! i’m one of the six lovely admins @ #unholy , & they’re all superstars , so imagine my daily awe ! anyway , i’m beyond excited to finally get the ball rolling , & share the dash with you babes !

muse inspo .

noora sætre , the goldfinch , ella of frell , neil perry , charlie dalton , claire saffitz , monica geller , carla lalli music , mia thermopolis , adam parrish , blue sargent , anna ou !

character details :

💐 : sweetly judgmental , adoringly vindictive / vindictively adoring , witty ‘n gritty , bitingly tender , expressively stubborn , softly feral !

😈 : hershey’s chocolate , brooklyn pizza , baguettes , collector edition copies of wuthering heights , selfies , her mom , richard siken anthologies , twilight ( #teamedward ) , crowded movie theaters , english gardens , the air in new york , the air in vail , snowboarding , her hair , hot chocolate ( no whipped cream , half a bag of mini marshmallows dumped atop ) , andrew garfield , her discover weekly playlist , german shepherds , harry potter , lord of the rings , comedies , horror movies , nude lipstick , chocolate chip toffee cookies with sea salt drizzled on top , mamma mia franchise , dissertations , driving , any typa jacket / coat , being the big spoon , her father , coca cola , lilies , disney t - shirts , her father’s films , take out , farms , italy ( every single crevice of it ) , the plaza hotel , mint chip ice cream , hats , trains , monthly horoscopes , ancient history , greenwich village , maggie rogers , mating ritual , vampire weekend , mitski , the wombats , magic bronson , jade bird , hockey , pretending to be a fairy / witch / mermaid as a child , naruto , avatar the last airbender , stepping over state / country lines , hot water with honey , amazon prime !

👿 : the marvel franchise except for the captain america & thor trilogies , coffee & tea , shorts , sweet potatoes , layovers of any length , socks , soy milk , her arms , chihuahuas , a song of fire & ice novels , super fudgy / rich cake & brownies , cooking for herself , being told what to do , being wrong & having everyone know it , people who are rude to employees , bad tipping , margaret atwood , her first grade teacher , plastic coke bottles , too much pepper in a dish !

upbringing & family life , life before the academy , etc .

julianna rachel peralta was born to a beauty - charmed family of three , with a new yorker mother & italian father birthing the healthiest & happiest girl parents can dream for . her mother , susanna ‘ susie ’ peters , was coined the model that pioneered 90′s fashion , a la kate moss , & met julianna’s father , elio peralta ( think the francis ford coppola of this verse ) , whilst she was briefly on set for jack to see friend fran drescher . their love stemmed from there , after she made a mocking comment & he overhead & mocked her in return for it , & the whirlwind romance that captivated their world for the next few years led to miss jules being born . neither of her parents desired marriage from each other , rather believing that their love knew no bounds , even those of matrimony , but never did it dim the bond held between the small family of three . once jules was in their arms , they relocated from new york to colorado , into the quaint town of vail , surrounded by pristine mountains & crystalline air , where susie & elio found a pocket of indisputable peace after a small winter trip in their first year of romance .

it was there that jules grew up , & there that the love of her parents faltered . her mother missed the world of fashion , the rhythms & rhymes of the space she knew as well as in maintaining the fame that spotlighted her so , while elio’s passions for turning out film after film dwindled . & when the offer from vogue came in , waxing poetic about a fresh position as a fashion editor , both she & elio knew that their paths would veer . their love was no less , but integral factors of their relationship were now fractured , & they each desired after different things . this was all said to julianna , in soft tones & with assuring words . yet , never was it promised that everything would be the same as it was , for the truth was in something unsaid . susie moved to new york , while elio & jules stayed in that mansion in the mountains , & all was as fair & well as it could be , with julianna staying with her mom during the fall season & discovering every little piece of italy in the summers . christmases & hanukkahs were always shared in vail , & susie tagged along european dives when her schedule allowed for it . it was as if their relationship & subsequent uncoupling were trivial details no one could bother to account for , until , in the worst spot she’s ever seen her mother , it came out that elio peralta found a new woman to share a life with , & that their new life together would be housed in the same home that susie & elio specially chose & , in emotional terms , truly built themselves & carved their family in its foundations . it was a betrayal of the deepest caliber , & from there the small peace that still was at the core of their little family was forever severed , & it became obvious to jules that those few years were lucky .

she was thirteen when famed actress lily taylor ( aka jennifer connely lmao ) moved into her family home , bringing her adopted eleven - year - old twins with her . in a sense of loyalty to her mother & her own hurt over the despair that her father caused their original trio , jules was heartily & positively prepared to hate the new additions to her family with a vindictive fidelity . her plan was promptly overturned , however , when she spent day upon day with her new fam & steadily allowed them into her heart . this , of course , was paired with doubtless guilt , spurred on by her own mind whenever she flew to nyc to see her mother , but soon enough this was caught by each of her parents , & susie was insistent in her assurance that whatever frigidness she still held for elio & his new beau ( which julianna didn’t bother to correct with wife ) , it in no way extends nor should be mimicked by her . elio , in turn , was quick to promise to jules that his love for her mother flamed in his heart to this day , but each of them are happier living their lives in the lifestyles they’ve chosen , with the people they’ve chosen .

there really wasn’t anything to do but swallow their words , & live by the sentiments they expressed . jules was both a mama’s & daddy’s girl in one , so to take their words as fact was an ignorance she allowed herself , even when the hurt look on her mother’s faced inevitably shone through in hidden moments .

but when jules turned seventeen , susie fell in love with a musician / designer named tommy lever she met while interviewing his collection for vogue , & the two fell deep , far enough to sway susie into moving to brazil during the spring season , away from her beloved manhattan loft , to be with him in his home ( the link is crucial to his characterization lmao , as lenny kravitz is essentially tommy lever ) . when she can , jules visits as often as she’s allowed ( always ) & has gained a room herself .

after that , however , the cycle between her various homes continued , well into her slipping teendom , & when the prospect of college crunched down on her , the choice seemed inevitable . nyu gained a classics & theater major for its class of 2019 ( she skipped the third grade , a fact she didn’t stop bragging about at that age ) , but in her senior year of university , the walls came crashing down .

what sin are they categorized under ? why ?

jules belongs to the sin of #pride through & through . after all , if there was one damning trait to send her straight into the pits of burning infernos , her prideful sense of self would be it . that’s not to say she’s arrogant ( nor am i saying she isn’t ) , but it’s more that she can’t take being undermined or allow the supposed undermining to go unpunished . she has a great deal of #pride in her own self worth & capabilities , though she’s usually loathe to make it known in plain terms , & if she feels attacked in that manner , she’ll completely close up . this often , as you’ll surely be able to tell , beckons problematic shit .

what got them sent to the academy ?

during jules’ senior year at nyu , she was contacted by her agent ( shared with her father ) & offered an audition for a leading role in a major hollywood studio film . throughout the years , she dabbled in theater & attracted a starring role or two along the way , especially in school productions , but the plan for success was always envisioned after college . when she got the call , however , she handled it with a happy - go - lucky fuck it sort of approach , & a week later , when she received the good - bearing call , there was no backing out , or so she thought . tentatively dropping out of the semester in which she would graduate , jules modeled the next few months of her life around the film , happily doing so .

yet , the first week into rehearsals brought down a cloud so dark she thought she’d choke under it . she overheard a few producers on their lunch break , talking about this - & - that - esque bullshit , but just as she was passing , one of them made a comment about the peralta girl , & how hollywood legacies are the roaches of the industry . how directors from the middle ages should just stick to ruining things behind the camera , not forcing a disaster in front of it .

that day , jules walked out of set & never took a step back in . effectively ruining her future career in the process , she ghosted all contact from the production & even went as far to jet off to brazil to regenerate with her mom as an escape . she couldn’t even pick up where she left off during the semester , & simply had to sit back & witness her classmates of four years graduate without her . her parents were furious , but the only thing she gave in return was a steely silence , refusing even turn a glare to her father . now , she’s been shoved into the hands of the academy , biding the days until she could return to nyu in the fall .

what do you think they’ll struggle with the most at the academy ?

tbh , the biggest issue for jules is the resentment curling at her core . at her father , the film , the academy , herself . right now she’s just in a foul mood & sick at being forced into glitterati rehab , but her #pride won’t allow her to fail , even if she wishes to do it just to spite everyone . she is a people person , however , & will almost definitely warm up , even if it’s just for appearances sake .

extra details : links you’d like to incorporate , wanted connections , literally anything else you want to include , etc .

wanted connections will be coming soon ! for now , please enjoy this authentic video of jules chillin in her fav corner of the world , aka italia , taken by her bff eli 😔✌️

#unholyintro #icb how LATE my ass is w this gd intro #cue y'all throwing the torches and pitchforks @ me JDJKSDJSKDJDSKJDSDS #⋆ ╰ ` 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓂ℴ𝓃𝒹 ╱ 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ╱ 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 . : dev .

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