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wulfrann · 3 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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binniedeactivated · 4 years

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saint. || soobin🌪 (10)*Finale*

congratulations for making it to the part 1 finale guys! thank you all so much for supporting this au! I am grateful beyond words! ♡

🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 2195

you never really noticed how much breakfast solved your morning grumpiness but it did. you were much more relaxed and motivated when you were not worried and being taken over by hunger. you were able to actually pay attention and do your work with such ease. you thought maybe it was worth adding that into your daily routine once in a while. throughout you were surrounded by a bunch of females who were talking about how they were ranked on the list as it if mattered anymore. you wished they stop talking about it because to you at least, it didn’t matter anymore. you hated soobin for making something like that and you were happy you said what you said to him.

anyway sister abigail was choosing random people to do math equations on the board today and you knew this would go completely go wrong for you. you knew math formulas and expression, but you couldn’t solve an equation. it was always for you which is why as soon as you felt as if you were about to go next you quickly asked her if you could go to the bathroom. she obliged and you were happy to have gone.

you were kind of surprised soobin wasn’t in the hallway like he normally was. creating trouble and walking around as if he didn’t have classes to go to. you push open the door to the bathroom. there was someone sitting on the floor which you found very odd, and...disgusting. she looked insane. you don’t even think she went to the school, maybe she snuck in and needed a place to stay. you couldn’t go into another stall without addressing her. her clothes were ragged and her hair looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in days. you approach her hesitantly while she sits with her knees to her chest. she kind of scared you with that look of crazy in her eyes.

“hey, are you alright? do you need somewhere to stay tonight?”.

maybe you could call your mom and they could’ve arranged something until she got back on her feet. you couldn’t just leave her here.

“what do you want? why are you even talking to me?”. she grumbled. you looked closer into her eyes.

“mia?”.

“what?”.

you were baffled at her appearance. you couldn’t believe she came to school in this condition she looked so strung out. it was terrible.

“what happened to you?”.

“it’s not like you’d understand. shit like this happens to you when you refuse to be a saint”. she assures with a tear fleeing her eye.

“mia it doesn’t matter if you’re a saint or not. if you need help you need help”.

she blinked a couple of times before she began crying in her hands. you sit down with her, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. you felt horrible for her and you hadn’t even known what happened. As she was crying you could see her now dirty school skirt lifting up a bit. words couldn’t describe how sorry you felt at the fresh wounds that slit across her thighs.

“mia? have you been...?”. she quickly clutched the bottom of her skirt and pulled it down. she was ashamed of what she had done. you pursed your lips. no human being should ever have to experience that kind of pain. absolutely no one.

“I want to help you. can I help you?”. you says and mia looks up with you with her teary blue eyes.

“why the hell would you want to help me? soobin must’ve broken up with you huh?”.

you stand up, giving her a hand to help lift herself off the floor.

“me and soobin aren’t dating”. you say truthfully. “we should head to the nurses office to get you some painkillers”. you hold out your hand for mia to hold. she reluctantly clutched it figuring she had no choice. you guided her down the hallway and your mind was blown on how she willingly let people see her look like this. it wasn’t like mia to ever look ungroomed.

“what do we have here?”.

“hey i was wondering she can get some pain meds? she’s having a bit of a headache right now”. the nurse nods putting a hand through mia’s tangled hair.

“are you okay honey?”. she asks. and mia just nods knowing she was broken beyond repair. she was given the tablets and glass of water and she took them gratefully. you tell the nurse thank you and wish her a happy rest of her day before you let mia follow you back into the bathroom.

you place your bag on the sink and position her in the mirror where she could see herself clearly. she knew she looked like a wreck, she hadn’t had the strength to do something about it. you reach into your bag and take out a brush, slipping it through mia’s hair carefully. she flinches.

“what are you doing?”. she snaps.

“I’m brushing your hair. I refuse to let you walk out of the bathroom like this”.

she turns around and continue going down each strand, brushing out the knots at the ends before brushing from the top. you did this until her hair was as silky and flowy as you remembered it. mia touches it, forgetting how much better she looked with it done.

“you like it?”. you asks and mia nods. she looks into the mirror like it was her first time seeing herself. you grab a napkin and wet it, wiping the tear stains off her cheeks. “whoever they were must’ve really hurt you mia”. she holds her head kind of low while you dip into your bag and grab some mascara and lipstick. you never wore much makeup but you carried it because...well that’s just what girls did in high school .

“i’ll never be the same person again”. she swallows. you twist open the mascara and grip the cap tight. you gently drag the mascara brush up her eyes lashes with care. “who’d ever hurt you like this? this is insane”.

“you’d be surprised at the things people do when they’re desperate”.

“what did they want from you?”. you question finishing up her other eyelash. mia gulps and stares into your eyes with the most serious look you’ve ever seen. you gulp.

“mia you have to tell someone you can’t just harm and neglect yourself like this”.

she shakes her head slowly, remembering what the boys told her.

“I can’t”.

“why can’t you? anything is better than this. look at your thighs. you can’t go on like--”.

“I have no choice you don’t understand”. you sighed. you take out the lipstick and swab her lips with the pretty maroon color. you use your fingernails to get the excess around her lips before you were finished. you turned her around to the mirror where she could see herself. she stared and you could tell she didn’t know how to feel.

“you look beautiful mia. and if you let me help you we can get you through this”.

she presses her lips together.

“why are you being nice after I’ve done what i’ve done to you? it doesn’t fucking make sense”.

“well--”.

“I clowned you in front of the whole school i fucked up your history exam I tripped you in gym class and not only embarrassed you but you were also injured. I tried to take soobin away from you and talked down on you as much as I possibly could to get him to hate your guts. why are you being like this?”.

“The bible says to love your neighbor like you love yourself. yes those things happened but i forgive you. the only thing that is important right now is making sure that whoever it is pay for what they’ve done to you. you don’t deserve this”.

mia toys with fingers before grasping you in her arms hugging you with the small pocket of joy she had left.

“do me a favor just put that one on this wall”. Michael says to kevin. he nodded, taking the polaroid picture and stapling it to one part of the bulletin board.

“we should spread them out more”. kevin says in a matter of factly tone. “true”. and together the both of them took their time taking numerous polaroids and stapling and taping them shamelessly to every wall they could find.

“this bitch is so pathetic”. kevin utters laughing to himself. he was proud of the work they were doing. it was more fun than any arts and crafts project he’d ever done.

“she is. I hope she sees this shit”. michael replies. the both of them take a step back and look at it all together. in their eyes, it looked great. but when the bell rung and everyone made their way out into the hallway they stopped at every wall in complete horror. thousands of polaroids of the pictures mia took of herself, cutting herself and bleeding. under each one wrote,

‘mia is an attention seeking cunt’

some laughed. some were shocked, and some just plainly walked by them as if they were normal everyday posters. but after mia hugged you, you slipped her your number and made your way upstairs to your class. to your misfortune you didn’t see them.

but as soon as mia worked up enough courage to step out of the bathroom and become herself again she was reminded of who hurt her. she was reminded of the boys who could give less fucks about how she feels. she was reminded that she was an absolute psychopath for slitting her thighs the way she did. she was stared at. and normally mia wouldn’t mind being stared at when she was among her friends but it was different when she were alone and much more vulnerable.

where were her friends?

she walks through the crowd holding her head low to avoid eye contact. she’d do anything to not be able to look into people eyes and see what they thought of her. she knew she was a lunatic. she knew she was disgusting. because in the religious community, self harm was bizzare.

michael throws his hood on and ties it tightly so that his face went unseen. he catches up to mia who was still trying to innocently make her way past the hallway. he grabs them hem of her skirt and pulls it down before he makes a clean getaway. mia shrieks, gaining back the attention she was starting to lose.here she was, in the middle of the hallway with her scars out in the open for everyone to see. she quickly pulls her skirt back up with tears gushing out of her eyes. she runs outside of the school building and everyone stares in utter shock.

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

the housekeeper clutches the blankets and snatches them off the bed. she jumped back a little when she saw the blood stains that danced along the bed sheets. she quickly reported it to her manager as she was mandated. he took a glimpse for himself. it was unusual that guests ever left a mess and when they did it would be food, shoes, maybe clothes that they forgot.

but it was never blood so this was a serious problem. and it called for investigation.

#choi soobin #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #choi soobin au #txt au

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p4nkow · 5 years

Text

D is for Dangerous

heyooo! i’m back with this fic — which is soooo random — but i’ve been thinking about writing it since the 6U trailer came out (you can watch it here if you still haven’t) so ofc it’s a Six!Ben fic

this is only the first part and i’m so excited for the following ones!

Summary: driven by the desire of revenge, the reader tries to take down the man who ruined her life only to find out that her plan is an utter fiasco; however she meets a man that is gonna change her life and give her the chance of a lifetime

Four!Ben x Fem!Reader

hope you enjoy and let me know what you think :)

Each and every muscle of your body was tense and your senses were on the alert, keeping your head on. But most importantly, you were trying to act rationally and not to be at the mercy of your own anger. It was the only way of getting away with what you were about to do.

Everything around you belonged to a world where you didn't fit in anymore — the fancy dress you were wearing, the expensive Champagne you were drinking... it didn't feel right. And it was all Kuklinki's fault.

Kevin Kuklinski. He was the reason why your life was now so messed up. You were attending one of his stupid parties but you weren't there to enjoy the food or the music. You were there to take him down.

He was the reason why your parents were gone.

The man who took their life was now chatting with two businessmen, sipping an expensive Champagne as he fake-laughed every now and then. You felt like an intruder to his party — you’d faked the invitation. There was no way he’d invite you voluntarily, even though you had made a name in the high society.

You were involved in business yourself, all thanks to your parents, but they’d made the mistake of trusting the wrong man. Now you were more than determined to take him down.

“It's a bad idea.” The sudden voice coming from behind you brought you back to reality. It was so firm and deep that you were 100% the mysterious guy was talking to you. Even before you could turn towards him, he moved next to you.

You turned your head to the right to give him a look — his blonde hair was shaved on the sides but with orderly blonde waves on the top. When he looked back at you, you've been taken aback by his green eyes. Beautiful and catchy, with a sparkle you couldn't read. A scar crossed his right brow and you found yourself wondering how he could've gotten it.

“Excuse me?” You'd lost sight of Kuklinski and you were silently cursing the stranger.

“It's a terrible idea.” He gave you just a quick look before looking back at the crowd, taking a sip of his drink. The black suit he was wearing fit hit perfectly and you had to look away at the sight of his Adam's apple rise and lower.

You couldn't deny he was good-looking and mysterious, but you were there for a very specific reason. The knife well-embedded in your garter was a constant reminder of your mission, the cold steel pressing against your thigh.

“You must have me confused for someone else.” You tried to be as firm as possible but but his presence made you nervous. That's probably because he seem to know everything about you.

You could feel his gaze on you and you had to clear your voice. “I really don't think so”, he said. “You've got a look that kills.”

A knot formed in your throat due to his words, so you took another sip of your drink just to ignore his word. You were pretty sure he could feel your nervousness, given that he moved right in front of you. You had to lift your chin to meet his beautiful eyes but then your gaze fell on his lips, so you swallowed in nervousness. “And that's exactly what you were going to do”, He added in a deep voice.

“I'm sorry?” But who the hell was he?

“You've heard me.” His voice was now low and hoarse and he was dangerously close to you. “Come with me.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you.” You shook off his gentle grip on your wrist and he looked at you with condescension. His jaw tended and he gave a quick look at the crowd around you, making sure you didn't draw anyone's attention. Then he took a deep breath and came even closer to you.

“I know what happened to your parents and I know it was Kuklinski. I know why you're here and sure as hell I know that you're gonna get yourself killed if you don't follow me and stick with your plan instead.”

You were speechless, completely blindsided. He seemed to know everything about you, but you had no idea who the hell he was. And it scared you. For the first time in weeks, you were terrified by the fact that this stranger knew every detail of your plan.

That was probably the reason why you didn't resist when he wrapped his hand on yours. The two of you moved through the crowd with lightness, going unnoticed as if you were invisible. Your gaze was fixed on his back for the whole walk, mesmerised by his confidence and calmness.

With the corner of your eye you noticed Kuklinski chatting with two women as he seemed to enjoy the Champagne he was drinking. The stranger must've noticed it too, given that he strengthened the grip on your hand. You had no desire of getting away from him — there was no way you could proceed with your plan now that it'd been compromised. You still wanted Kuklinski dead, though.

The stranger silently led you to a bedroom in the upper floor. You closely followed his movements as he checked every corner of the room, looking at him with suspicion. “We should be safe here”, he said.

“Who the hell are you?”

He leaned against the table pushed against one of the walls, his hands holding its edges but his green eyes fixed on you. “I'm Four.”

“Four?”, you asked in disbelief.

The stranger — Four? — lifted his brows by hearing your condescending tone. “Yeah.” You could clearly hear his voice now that you were alone in a silent room.

“Four like the number?”

“Exactly like the number. And you could be our Eight if you decided to join our cause.”

“What? What cause?” Four didn't seem to have much patience and he sighed at your questions.

He pursed his lips, letting his gaze slide on your body before looking his eyes on yours. “Kevin Kuklinski, one of the most influential billionaires by day, a mob boss by night. Also, the reason why your parents are dead.”

His words touched you deeply and you shuddered. You looked away from him and Four paused for a few seconds, noticing how uncomfortable you were. He moved away from the desk and walked towards you, coming dangerously close. “And that's exactly why you're here — you did a great job with the fake invitation, by the way.”

“Thanks”, you replied in an hesitant tone. You weren't sure you could trust him yet.

“But let me tell you what would've happened.” His tone lowered, his words were becoming nothing but a whisper. “Option number one — somehow you could've managed to approach him in the hall, stab him with the very sharp knife you're hiding under that black dress and then you would've died too, killed by the ten guards surrounding him.”

Damn. You only counted five. Four knew he had a point — you noticed it by the look in his eyes — but you forced yourself to look unbothered. “But Kuklinski's men wouldn't have stopped. You've got a sister — Emily, isn't it? And her kids.”

You felt like weight on your heart by hearing his words. You hadn't considered your nephews and the thought of Kuklinski's men hurting them was unbearable.

He raised his brows like if he was waiting for an answer and so you softly said “Yeah.”

Four pursed again his lips — his face was just a few inches away from yours, his green eyes looking directly at you. “Option number two — you'd tried to approach him in private but you'd have been killed even before having the chance to look at him.”

Four's words were filling you with shame for the inaccuracies of your plan — you'd been so blinded by your own anger that you didn't even realise it. You'd moved your gaze away from him, reflecting about his words.

His fingers gently grazed your jawline and slipped to your chin, gently tapping on it to make you look back at him. His touch sent shivers down your spine but you had even worse problems to solve.

“But imagine working on a plan with a group of people who believe in your cause. People who want to make sure that justice takes its course, that want Kuklinski dead just as much as you do.”

The situation was finally turning for the better — his words had caught your attention. “Tell me more.”

“We've been watching you for a while. You're one of us, even though you don't know it yet.”

“What if you're just a bunch of amateurs?”

“We're not dead yet. And we're trained — flaws don't exist in our plans. Unlike yours”, he added with a tight smile that made you roll your eyes.

“Is Kuklinski one of your targets?”

“The first of ‘em”, He immediately replied. You tried to take a step back — you needed to stay away from him to think clearly. Four buried his hands in the trouser pockets and waited for you to say something.

“Four”, You said as you turned your back to him. “What's your real name?”

“It's Four now.”

“Why code names then?”

You heard him sighing and that pushed you to turn against towards him. His brows were narrowed and you couldn't understand his sudden worry. “Y/N”, he whispered. It was the first time he called you by your name. It felt so different coming out from his lips.

You looked at him with your brows narrowed, giving him a nod as to silently tell him to go on. “To be free to do what we do, we have to make sacrifices.”

“And what did you sacrifice?”

“Our old life”, he said in a low tone. “We've officially been pronounced dead.”

We're you ready to do it? To leave your old life behind just to take the revenge you'd been dreaming of for months? You weren't quite sure you could do it.

Four senses your hesitation and he walked again towards you. Why the hell had he to be this close? “We're gonna give you some time to think about it.” You clearly needed it.

“How will I reach you?”

One of the corners of his lips lifted in a grin. “I'll contact you.”

You gave him a quick nod and his hand was again on your cheek, without touching it. The tension of the moment was palpable — but oh man. Even before you could say anything he grinned at you and took a step back.

You realised the reason of his grin when your gaze fell to his hand — the knife embed in your garter was now on his hand.

“How... how did you—” You have a quick look at your leg and then at him again. Four and his stupid grin.

You shook your head in disbelief and he nodded towards you, starting to back away. “I'm keeping this. Think about my offer.” You sighed as you watched him walking backwards towards the window.

What the hell was he doing? Did he want to jump off? Before you could even say anything he was gone, as well as your knife. You quickly moved to the window, looking out of it only to see him jump from one building to the other.

It had been a week since your unplanned meeting with Four and you still hadn’t made up your mind about his offer. You’d have gladly accepted it if it wasn’t for your family. Your sister Emily had already been through a lot — troubled births, the lost of your parents and the repercussions it had on her own family. You didn’t want to hurt her, but you couldn’t rest peacefully knowing that Kuklinski was still out there.

Discretion was important, essential for your survival. You had to be so discrete that had to look invisible to others. The coffee shop you were was just perfect — you had lost the count of the amount of people who walked in and out, or of the students who sat there all day long and studied without saying a word. You could’ve easily been mistaken for one of them, with your constant scrolling on your laptop and the notes on your textbook.

Oh, if they only knew. You weren’t studying at all. Or at least, your studying wasn’t school-related. You were doing researches over researches on a man, trying to summon up all the possibles informations about him. Kevin Kuklinski. The man. The cause of all your troubles. Internet was a fantastic place — you were astonished by the amount of informations it could provide, even though it couldn’t be considered 100% reliable.

Your researches were interrupted by the buzzing of your phone and the name of your sister appeared on the lockscreen. “Ems?”

“Auntie Y/N!” It wasn’t your sister who picked up the phone, but your nephew Aiden.

“Hey, love. What’s wrong?” You gave a quick look around you to make sure you were going unnoticed.

You could hear giggles and squeaks of excitement from the other side of the phone. “Mommy said you would help me with my homework.”

You rubbed your forehead with a sigh — you’d totally forgotten about it. “Yeah uhm... I’ll be there ASAP.”

“Mommy! Auntie said she’s coming!”, you heard Aiden screaming to your sister and it made you smile.

A thud and a few whispers later, you sister picked up her phone. “Hey, sorry ‘bout that. You don’t need to come all the way here.”

“It’s just...”, you cleared your voice, trying to find the right words. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to take care of.”

“Y/N.” Emily’s tone was low and you were pretty sure she sighed.

“Hm?”

“Are you still after that Kuklinski guy?”

“Emily.”

“No”, she immediately replied in a resolute tone. “You gotta tell me the truth.”

And it took you some time before you could whisper “Yes.”

Emily swore under her breath and you closed your eyes, trying to keep control. “I’m gonna say it just once — forget about him. You stay out of this mess. That’s what mom and dad would’ve wanted.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t you even fucking start, Y/N.” She was really pissed now.

The chair in front of you moved, screeching against the floor. You were taken aback and your first instinct was to hide your notes and open a new tab on your laptop. You weren’t surprised to see Four sitting right in front of you.

You took a few breaths — her tone didn’t make easier in any way what was about to happen. “Ems?”

“What?” Even though her tone was still a bit harsh, you could tell she had softened.

You bit your lower lip, trying to avoid Four’s gaze fixed on you. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to come by today. Give Aidan and Lexie a kiss from me.”

“I will.”

“And I love you.” You closed your eyes, trying to take deep breaths. You’d made up your mind and there was no turning back.

But Emily was getting suspicious. “You okay?”

“Now I can’t even tell my sister I love her?”, You joked, even though you were just trying to lighten the mood. It was the last time you were hearing her voice.

“Right, I’m sorry”, She whispered. “I love you too. And stay out of troubles. Please?”

“Yeah.” You were a terrible liar. You knew that. Emily knew that. Even Four knew that, given the look in his eyes. When you closed the call you were feeling extremely guilty, but it was done. There was no turning back now.

“So I guess you made a decision.” Four placed his forearms on the table, locking his green eyes right on yours. You bit your lip and slowly nodded at his words, giving him a quick look. That day he had replaced his black suit with a grey tee and faded jeans. His toned muscles were even more noticeable now.

“What happens now?” You were eager to move on — the less you thought of your family, the less you suffered. All you wanted to do was focus on your job.

Four lifted his brows in surprise. “Are you sure? There’s no turning back.”

Your gaze fell to your laptop, a tab opened in a close-up of Kuklinski. That’s all you needed as a confirm. When you looked back at Four, you were more than sure he could see the determination in your eyes. “I’m well aware of that.”

Four pursed his lips and slowly nodded. By the way his shoulders rise and lower you could tell he sighed deeply, maybe in sign of pride. Was he proud of you? Was he satisfied with your decision? “Well, then”, he murmured, giving a look at the people around him. “Come with me.”

You quickly closed your laptop, putting it and your textbook in your bag. Four slowly got up and you copied him, ignoring the few looks that followed you to the door. “Where are we going?”

Four replied to your question with a quick look from above his shoulder. The silent treatment did nothing but increase the adrenaline running in your veins and you tried to keep up as he turned the corner.

“Four!”, you whispered again. The look he gave you made you worry, even more when he grabbed you by your hand. You tried to resist him but he tightened his grip and you didn’t like at all the tone in which he said “Don’t freak out.”

What?

Not even five seconds later, you did freak out. The car right next to you blew up and the explosion was so loud that made your ears burn. Four’s hand was still firmly holding yours as you turned towards him. He was deadly serious as he tried to gently drag you to one of the backroads.

Maybe because of the explosion, maybe because of the shock of the moment, you barely had the strength to take two steps before passing out and falling like a brick, right into his arms.

let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next parts :)

#ben hardy #ben hardy fic #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #bo rhap #queen #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fic #queen band #6 underground #six underground #6 underground fic

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doodlingstuff · 3 years

Text

Heaven knows I’m proud, but I’ll turn ‘round

Chapter 15 of Comeback.

Proceed with caution. This is loaded with heavy angst and almost every TW.

***

All comments, likes, kudos and shares make my day shine. Thank you for reading 🧡

***

Cold brushes Andrew’s arms and face.

His armbands and knives are not with him.

It takes several tries to open his eyes.

Before he can reckon his surroundings, he feels the hot hands in his arms, dragging him across grass and dirt. Then he feels the cold metal around his wrists.

He plants his feet on the ground. He is too dizzy, but he spent years under heavy medication. He can fight even drugged.

When the men holding him notice he is awake, they are received by a kick and a headbutt. Andrew can only duck and kick since his hands are tied to his back. He has another three persons behind him. There’s no time to maneuver his legs and put his arms in front of him to punch them properly, so he runs.

It’s too dark to see where he’s going, but he can see a highway ahead. He sprints faster to reach it. However, his path gets blocked by a massive man holding a crowbar. Andrew dodges him and keeps going.

He can almost step foot on the highway when three pairs of hands grab him from the arms, the legs, his torso. He spins and tries to kick, but he is outnumbered. His hands are tied. His knives are lost. He is carried back to a pig’s car.

It doesn’t matter how much he moves and twists, the men holding him above the ground have a fierce grip on his body.

A woman approaches. He can’t see her face in the dark, but he can hear.

“Ain’t no fun if you hurt us.”

The smile never leaves her face as she smacks a rock to Andrew’s head.

Next time he wakes up, Andrew is sitting on a chair. The room is covered in darkness.

Moisture dampens his head and shoulder. The scars in his arms are stinging like they are split open again, but he can’t see.

“Look, our tiny toy is back.”

Andrew struggles to wake up fully. His head is hammering too hard to focus.

Contours start to appear as his eyes get adjusted to dark.

Knives glint on walls and there is a drain in the middle of the room.

He has been here before. His hazed brain takes a few moments more to recall.

No.

Neil has been here before.

This is one of his nightmares, not Andrew’s.

---

Next Monday after Neil’s party, Andrew almost needed to be shoveled out of bed.

Daily morning practices were off for nearly four months and he was fine with not having to wake up early for fucking stickball. But it’s Neil’s first practice since he got back and his good mood was spreading fast through the dorm, so even Andrew felt the need to put some effort, even if it was the bare minimum.

Classes came and went and then it was time for afternoon practice. He was used to head to Abby’s place then to be with Neil. It was strange having him on the passenger seat, but it was even stranger seeing him sitting out most of the practice. At least, he was able to try some drills in the morning.

Coach stopped the whole team before they headed out to shower. He had the schedules and matches to be held for the rearranged championship. They were facing the Binghamton Bearcats in one month, and the final match would be played two weeks after. Everyone cheers and celebrates.

In one month, they trusted Neil could play more than the five-minute top threatened by Coach. The Foxes were finally moving as a whole after the striker’s return and the Bearcats weren’t one of the Big Three, so they felt entitled to lift their hopes up, even if it was the weirdest season on the books.

With a date to look forward as the definitive end of the season, final exams on their way, and Kevin bitching to have night practices again, weeks passed in a mix of sweat and stolen kisses with Neil whenever they had a few minutes to spare. The boy shone with excitement for being able to play, and the only thing Andrew could do about it was make sure he didn’t push too hard whenever he noticed the striker limping.

Since it was only one match and Neil asked, Andrew conceded closing the goal on his half of the match. He had seen the Bearcats previous matches, so he knew their patterns. It was easy.

The weight of the Foxes playing or not the last match would depend then on how many points Kevin, Neil and Dan could score, and hope their number was bigger than the rest.

The ride to Binghamton was eternal and boring. Andrew certainly had a few ideas of how he could make time go faster, but not with the team that close, so he had to settle with the stories Neil told about his travels, hearing his wishes for going on a holiday someday, and his daydream that he would be able to play on finals. Then, he fell asleep on Andrew’s shoulder.

The match was brutal.

The twin was split the whole time between staying in place deflecting shots, or run to shove out dirty players far from his lot. He kept the goal shut and their win wasn’t taken with grace, since the Foxes were the away team and certainly not anyone’s favorite despite the loads of news and gossip provided by Neil’s incident with the Ravens, but he couldn’t care less about the fans’ mood.

Andrew’s arms were close to burnout when the final buzzer confirmed their win. The Foxes gathered in the middle of the court and celebrated as if they had earned gold at the Olympics. The blond watched from the distance, when all he wanted was a shower and pile back into the orange bus, but he had to keep an eye on Neil, and he intended to wait until after he was done in the showers to carry their equipment, as he had done every practice. The striker was perfectly capable of carry his own things by then, but helping made curious things futter in his chest, and painted a smile on his pipe dream.

The celebrations were carried to his goal and he could only stare at Neil’s happiness.

That was another moment to treasure.

Finally, everyone headed out of court and started to clean up. Neil was waiting for him to finish, so they could get back to the others. The joy lighting his blue eyes was so powerful that Andrew nodded for the striker to join the rest while he got both their bags ready. Nothing would happen if Neil was out of his sight for a moment.

The pipe dream had proved to be real.

Andrew was almost out the locker room when he felt a pinch on his neck.

Duffel bags were dropped as he unfurled to fight, but the liquid spreading through his blood was faster, and everything turned black before he could do anything about it.

----

A tall woman with a gargantuan red lipped smile approaches him. “Are you awake now? Revenge is not fun if you can’t hear me.” It’s the same one who knocked him with a rock, and maybe a needle too. The one on the original list of the Moriyamas that Andrew ignored.

Lola Malcolm.

“Fuck you.” Andrew tries to stand, but his whole body is chained to the chair. His efforts send him to the floor. His hips hit instants before his head. His left arm is on fire after the impact. The sting in his scars is worse.

“So bold but so small. Can’t believe you were the one who killed our boss.”

The woman is too close and holding his face. The touch burns him worse than the pain on his head or his arms. He spits in her face. A shoe presses Andrew’s head to the floor.

The betrayal of the Moriyamas sends waves of rage through him as terror replaces it fast when realization settles.

“Where is Neil?”

“Wait you insolent Gremlin. He hasn’t picked up again. Little boss said he was untouchable now, but he never said anything about you and Junior didn’t like it. Oh, hey, you heard that Junior?”

Static of the phone echoes in the room. There is silence on the other end for minutes.

“Fuck you.” The fear in Neil’s whisper shatters something in Andrew, but reliefs him at the same time. It doesn’t matter what they do to him as long as the pipe dream is safe.

“Nathaniel, say hello to our special guest now that he is awake.”

"Don’t you dare fucking touching him-”

“Watch that mouth Junior. As you recall, it’s my honor to tell my victims what I’ll do, and since this was meant to be for you once Nathan got out from jail, you both get to hear.”

Andrew can’t pay attention to the things Lola mentions. The jagged screams of Neil on the other side of the phone are destroying him already.

His promise was broken.

Neil was unprotected and suffering.

Because Andrew was about to get chopped. That isn’t right. No one suffers for Andrew. Never.

“Are you still there Junior? I’d like to start now.”

The other end of the phone is dead.

“Shame. We’ll get started without him then.”

Andrew struggles as two men free him from the chair and pin him to the floor with a loud crash of his skull. He is too close to the drain.

He tries to fight them, but the massive one from before joins to keep his legs glued in place.

Romero Malcolm. Jackson Plank. Patrick DiMaccio.

Fucking list.

“Heard Junior and you like to do nasty things with each other. Such waste of tiny men. I’ll have a try anyway.”

Lola climbs on top of him. She has a knife on her hands. The tip presses on the hollow in his throat, where the collar of his shirt starts, and cuts all the way down to his waist. She rips the shirt in two and leaves his bare chest in display.

Then, she bends down and licks Andrew’s neck. Nausea piles in his throat as the woman sucks his nipples and keeps pressing her tongue until she reaches the hem of his pants.

The contact is revulsing, and it only gets worse as fingernails dig inside his underwear to make way between his legs. Pulling, pinching, tickling, pressing until his body betrays him.

Like Steven, Samuel, Drake, and Proust did.

Nausea rolls from his stomach to his throat. He puts all his effort in containing a gagging sound while Lola keeps feasting on him.

Andrew fights to get rid of the weight, but he is helpless with three men strangling his limbs and tugging his hair to keep his head in place too.

The sharpness of a blade starts on the side of his lower belly and follows all the way to his knee. Lola tears apart the ruined pants and gets free access to Andrew’s intimacy. A shiver runs from his head to his toes. He can’t do anything to cover his unprotected body. The men pinning him only look away, but they never release the strength of their hold.

The woman watches him with sickening delight before sliding down from his legs to his shins, and sucks him.

She bites and licks and digs her long nails on Andrew’s sides until his skin breaks and bleeds.

His stomach tries to rebel again, but he only retches. His teeth are close to breaking from how hard Andrew is clenching his jaw.

It’s an eternity before Lola gets up again, wiping her mouth with a hand.

She leaves Andrew exposed. Trembling. Humiliated.

Hot shots set his skin on fire everywhere Lola touched him.

“That was good indeed. But I promised other delivery, so let’s get started.”

Lola stands and disappears from Andrew’s view. His attempts to het free are useless once more.

When she returns, she climbs over him again and takes his phone from one of her pockets. While the device beeps, waiting for the other side to answer, the sound of a blowtorch makes Andrew’s nerves stand on edge.

“No one told you is unpolite to hung up, Junior?” There’s only silence on the other side. “Fine. Don’t talk. I’ll update. Your tiny boyfriend is delicious indeed. But I have to resume. See, we were planning on carving out that disgusting thing on your face. We’ll have to ruin a pretty face in your behalf. And because you are always running, we were cutting your legs tendon by tendon, but this one relies on his knives, so we are cutting his arms. Did your midget tell you that he made an exact copy of your scars on the Butcher? I’ll perfect his idea now.

“No.” The whisper on the other side is too broken to be Neil.

“Yes. And you will get to hear his screams. Word says he lost emotions and all that. We’ll see that when he sees his fingers on the floor.”

Andrew can’t think, can’t remember, can’t move as the tip of a red-hot knife gets pressed to his left cheek and sharp nails are dug in his jaw to keep him steady.

He was right. The good weeks had to end, but he never thought it would be like this.

At least he enjoyed all of Neil while he could and he got enough time to know it wasn’t a hallucination made up from his meds.

Pain sears his cheek and spreads to his full face, but he doesn’t make a sound even if his teeth are cracking. He won’t make Neil hurt more.

“You know how to stay shut, don’t you? Nathaniel, have you seen the mess this one has on his arms? Of course you do. It’s time to erase them. Can’t make clean cuts with that view. I began on the way here, but it wasn’t enough.”

“No. Please.”

And that word.

Bolts of fury fill Andrew to fight again. He is not letting Neil fall into the same trap the twin fell when he was seven.

The man on his left is slightly smaller than the one on his right. Despite the pain, he puts all his might into getting free. It hurts dislocating his joints to get free, but not more than hearing Neil’s strangled pry.

If he is dying today, he doesn’t want Neil to hear.

And if he will hear anyway, let it be the sounds of Andrew putting a fight to get back. As Neil did.

He swings a closed fist to Lola and sends her to the floor before his arm is trapped again with a jolts of agony.

“Enough talking.” Says the woman cleaning the blood dripping from her nose. She is holding the fucking blowtorch again.

Andrew braces for the pain but it’s not enough. The horrors he had faced are nothing alike.

Lola pins first his left arm with the same knife she used to burn his face and gives the halt to the man over to hold it in place. Then she gets the blowtorch to the scars and new cuts of his right arm.

Fire scorches his skin slowly. He watches in slow motion as his marred scars start changing color. Swelling. Blistering. Bleeding.

He scrambles and twists to get away from the fire, but the knife pinned in place is dividing his other arm in two with every move he can manage below the fierce grips.

A feral growl escapes his throat and Lola laughs as she moves the torch up. The knife held by the man on his left has made a hole in his arm. He can’t feel his fingers anymore.

A scream bursts free against his will when the blade is taken out and stabs his burned arm.

He doesn’t want Neil hearing this. It will break whatever defense survived Evermore.

Another scream is finding its way out as the blowtorch now works over the open wound, cauterizing the cut and erasing his scars. He can’t feel his burned arm being torn apart with the knife.

Andrew can’t notice immediately when the weight in his left arm is gone, but he can see the shock in Lola’s face as she lets the torch fall and stands to fight.

All around is pain and confusion.

A real hallucination from the pain. Maybe he is already death. This is impossible.

Because there is no way that Neil is standing around his body, bloodied knives in both hands, slashing and cutting everything in his way, making bodies fall and fight and free Andrew’s limbs.

He can swear there is also a strike of rainbow moving at flash speed behind Neil. Clearing the path. Getting rid of the people torturing him.

“Andrew? Andrew?"

The voice speaking is too far, too wrecked to be real.

Andrew is too shocked to understand. He hadn’t been so afraid, so sore, so useless in so, so long. He finally loses control of his stomach and everything comes out, but there is no relief afterwards. The pain and the sickness go on and forces him to retch again until there is nothing left.

There is a cling close to him.

He wants the world to disappear beneath him. Die if he hasn’t. Pass out at least.

He can’t tell when he curled on his side and covered his head with his battered arms.

He is shaking. His head is throbbing. His arms sting. He is mostly naked. He is cold. His belly hurts from the effort.

Neil heard him. Neil is watching him like this. Again.

“Andrew? You’re bleeding, we need to stop it.” The voice outside is too hurt, but sounds real. “Andrew?”

“No.” The answer comes between shattered sobs.

A part of Andrew that is still aware of the surroundings knows he is the one crying, but he is uncapable of doing anything else.

He promised to protect Neil and he failed.

He failed to his promise like everyone else does.

All because he thought he wouldn’t have enough time left with Neil.

Because he thought the Moriyamas would finish their part of the job faster.

“Don’t touch him.” The jagged voice turns fierce before being soft again. “Andrew, we need to get you out of here.”

He doesn’t move.

It takes ages before he can acknowledge that the shattered voice belongs to Neil.

He can’t face him after failing a promise. He has failed him twice.

That is unforgivable. That makes him a monster indeed. The monster everyone believes him to be.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t get faster. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you like I promised. I’m sorry it wasn’t me. I-”

Andrew uncovers his face only an inch. His arms hurt too much, but he needs to see if Neil is indeed there, apologizing for a promise that was never his to keep. Hurting only because Andrew was hurt.

He was sure that no one gave a fuck about what happened to him, until he heard his name spoken with utter fear for him, not because of him.

“You are a pipe dream.” He manages to say with cracked voice.

“Fuck you I’m not. I’m real. You made me real.” There’s a pause before he goes on. “And I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

Neil’s eyes are a few shades darker and glassy as he lowers a hand and places it extended, close to Andrew’s arms, but not touching. Never touching. Only waiting.

“Let’s go home. Yes or no?”

It takes minutes or maybe hours for Andrew to find enough courage inside of him to realize that Neil’s apologies were sincere and he still wants him.

Maimed, useless and humiliated, he’s still accepted.

He was forgiven for breaking the promise between them even before he pointed his failure.

The hand extended is still by his side. Asking. Expecting. Ready.

Neil is feeling guilty for the consequences of Andrew’s miscalculated actions. The striker didn’t choose his criminal family, but Andrew chose to get rid of them. The guilt and consequences should be only his. Neil should be away from this, enjoying his free life. Not extending his hand to pick the pieces of a wrecked a monster like him.

And yet, he doesn’t have it in him to let go. No when he is so terrified for the first time.

With trembling fingers, Andrew takes the offered hand and holds it as hard as he can with his numb fingers.

It is as warm and real as the last time.

“Yes.”

#tw: torture #tw: injury #tw: noncon #aftg #aftg fic #aftg fanfic #aftg fandom #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #andrew x neil #bamf!neil #the foxhole court #the kings men #the raven king #canon divergence #canon divergent au #mid-canon #someone stop me from writing

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disaster-human-being · 5 years

Text

Fkgkkebkdk, Exuse me just over here silently dying inside

OK so imagine this.

So Andrew and Neil want to have a small winter vacation away from the team but Kevin manages to convince them to take him aswell and they decide to go somewhere with lots of country land and stuff, so they respectfully decide to go to Virginia and after days of looking Neil finds a hotel in a town, this towns name,

Henrietta.

Nico and Will were on a quest but in the middle of it Nico accidentally shadowtravels them because the odds were not with them at that time and Nico being the soft boyfriend he is, is thinking about somewhere Will would love, so somewhere in the country with a lot of interesting history surrounding it and some nice scenery so ironically they end up in

Wait for it...

Henrietta

Ronan and Adam were the only ones at Monmouth due to Blue and Henry dragging Gansey to the mall and Noah being god knows where whilst opal and Ronan mom hang out in cabeswater . They’re just snuggling and exchanging small sweet secretive kisses and even though they had no reason to be secretive about it, the small moments like these (where they are at peace and light and happy) well, they were just to good to pass up. Anyway, so they’re just snuggling on the sofa when suddenly the room goes all dark with shadows and two figures just suddenly land on the floor groaning so Ronan and Adam get up and cautiously inspected these unexpected visitors. One of these boys is small and darkness is coming of him in waves, literally like, darkness is warping around him , and suddenly it just stops and the boy goes limp. After a few minutes of inspection the pair deem the 1st boy harmless at that moment and safely decide to inspect the second boy. Now, this boy is the opposite to the first one, lightness is surrounding him, like literally the it’s almost like the sun is drawn to him, but instead of passing out like the other one this boy slowly but surely starts to groan and seemingly gain his strength back and after a few minutes starts to get up saying a name “Nico?”. Instinctively Ronan pushes Adam behind him and straightens his back then gets into a defensive stance with Adam having a death grip on one of his hands, not because he’s afraid but because he knows in that moment he needs to ground Ronan so that’s what he does and he feels his boyfriend tighten his grip on Adams hand for a split second in gratitude. In this small moment they don’t see the first boy- Nico they presume this boy is- and start to get into a defensive stance along with this other boy- whom they have not learned the name of yet- so immediately they start shouting all at once (a/n : imagine this a you please) and they eventually learn the second boy is called Will and somewhere along the line then start to hear knocking on the door so (not turning his back to these Nico and Will figures oh, and making sure he can see Adam) Ronan goes to answer the door.

At the other side of the door stand 3 boys, one moderately tall the other an amount shorter with noticeable scars on his face and the last one very short but looking like he could tear you to shreds without even lifting a finger. They say they could hear shouting frim outside while looking for directions ( they don’t say where to buy Ronan can guess its to the hotel and they look touristy enough so he doesn’t ask) but the last one who’s name he has learned is Andrew gets bored and pushes his way inside and the others follow obligingly, it’s almost seems like he’s their leader, so he starts grumbling but follows the others inside closing the door behind him and staying their for a few minutes and he has obviously zoned out for a bit because when he comes to its to the laughter of his boyfriend and as it turned out the second boy from before -who he has learned is called Neil- Will and Adam are getting along greatly with each other whilst the other boy - Kevin- is making small talk with Andrew so he decides to step inside a bit more and tentatively sits down next to his boyfriend, he notices that Neil is sticking to Andrews side and holding his hands as the latter is trying his best to look annoyed with the gesture but the love and small amount of adoration laced in his eyes makes him fail miserably, and guessed they’re together, same thing with Will and Nico. At some point they all fall into small conversation without asking questions ( even though they can all tell that the others in the room have millions of questions) and as the day goes on Ronan finds himself finding it easy to talk with Andrew and Nico about how stupidly self sacrificial their boyfriends are.

At some point they also exchange numbers with each other, but as it starts getting dark outside Neil Andrew and Kevin (who has been lingering between conversations throughout the day) announce their leave and bid their farewells to eachother with a promise to text the others once they get to the hotel, and not long after they leave Nico and Will also announce that they’re friends will be getting worried and some thing about a quest ( which Ronan and Adam safely decide not to mention about because it seems that Nico and Will have that handled and Blue would probably chew them out if they did ask and then get involved and Blue scared them so it’s really an easy decision) and by the time Blue Gansey and Henry get back Ronan and Adam have made a group chat with their new found friends (a/n: call it what you please because i cannot find a good name to stick with) and are texting away ( Adam, to Neil, Kevin and Will about how much he loves his boyf and the others agreeing (and kevin just being annoyed giving half hearted comments about how he didn’t need more of this relationship stuff in his life) and Ronan having a hardcore conversation about which Fall out boy song is the best and it’s getting real intense) so the rest of the crew ask about their day and Noah just appears behing Ronan( scaring the shit out of him and he lets out the most high pitched scream ever and the others never stop teasing him about it) and just tells them everything about that day ,and when asks just says he’s been watching, which unnerves the rest to no end but at the end of the day they end up having pizza ,laughing and saying “well just your normal everyday life in Henrietta!”

When Nico and will get back to camp after finishing their quest they keep their new friends to themselves claiming that they don’t want their friends to be stolen from them and end up snuggling in bed for the rest of the night feeling great about themselves for once after a quest.

When Kevin Neil and Andrew get back to palmetto state university Kevin jumps straight into the story without even being asked and by the end wymack is hitting them across their head and calling them idiots but it’s halfhearted anyway, so when they go to bed Neil and Andrew share a small chuckle of incredibility of the situation but before long Neil is cuddling up to Andrews side whilst Andrew rubs his arms and before they know it they’re lulled to sleep wondering what more the future has in store for them

End.

—

I fucking can’t I-

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Something About Aquaria Ch. 5

Shits getting angsty, Trigger warning for descriptions of gore~ Eliptic

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, OK Cracker just breathe’ Max was pacing rapidly in his hotel room, practically burning a hole in the carpet. ‘This is normal, you should have been expecting this, and why wouldn’t he be curious? Just breathe it’ll be fine.’ sighed heavily throwing himself onto the bed.

“Who am I fucking kidding, when has that ever worked?” he said blurring to the window.

Aquaria’s POV

Giovanni’s head was pounding as he reluctantly sat up at the blaring sound of his alarm, he slammed his hand on the snooze button, wincing as he felt the plastic cut into his palm. “Holy shit.” He whispered looking between the crushed clock and his bleeding hand.

He whipped his head around at the sound of one of the many locks unlocking. In a panic Giovanni pushed over the side table, “Don’t come in I'm… naked.” He shouted quickly as the door started to open, nursing his injured palm.

“Okay?” Sam said confused “Well soups on so come down… preferably when you have clothes on.”

“I will.” Giovanni said as the door shut fully. He gave out a sigh of relief. Going into the tiny bathroom he ran his hand under water clearing away in the blood to assess the damage. To his surprise the small cuts that covered his hand were slowly healing. “Cool.” He whispered.

‘Max!’ he thought suddenly, he quickly threw on some clothes and rushed down to the dining room, searching for the shorter vampire.

“Cracker doesn’t eat, she’s on the bus with Vixen and Blair.” Giovanni nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Dane’s voice. “Sorry.” He apologized smiling shyly.

“I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf.” Giovanni teased.

“Kameron Michaels,” he said dramatically “Cause of death too many dog puns.” They both laughed. “You should grab something before you go.”

“I’m actually not hungry.” He said letting it sink in “At least not for food.” He swallowed heavily looking down.

Dane pulled Giovanni in a tight hug “Four years ago I was where you are now… only with more fur. It was terrifying, still is sometimes, but I got through it. And so will you.”

Giovanni smiled trying to will away the tears stinging his eyes. “Thanks Kam. I should go check on Cracker.”

“She seemed fine when I saw her this morning. Did something happen?”

“I’m not really sure what happened. His eyes…” Giovanni bit his lip, turning on his heel and quickly walked to the bus, he climbed on immediately spotting Vixen and Blair snuggled together, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, but no Max. As silently as possible he made his way to the back of the bus, finding Max curled up sleeping in the last seat. Smiling Giovanni gently lifted Max and squeezed in next to him, putting Max’s head in his lap. He checked him over, stopping when he spotted two small marks on his forearm, slowly Giovanni lifted Max’s arm to examine the scars, they looked like bug bites. Giovanni unconsciously ran his tongue over his teeth, he froze.

‘I made those. I bit him.’ He panicked ‘Is that why he freaked out? Is that normal? What am I saying none of this is normal!’ Giovanni started breathing heavily.

“Aqua?” Kevin’s voice broke through his panic, it caused him to jump making Max to stir in his lap. “What’s wrong?” Giovanni gestured to the tiny scars on Max’s arm. “Oh, don’t worry they’ll be gone in a few hours.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“You didn’t, the opposite actually,” Kevin winked “So what would you prefer, a ring or a necklace?”

“Are you asking me to go steady with you?” Giovanni asked, relaxing.

“You wish bitch.” Kevin chuckled “Eventually the suns gonna become a problem. I need to enchant something that you can wear so you don’t combust.” He explained. Giovanni’s face went pale. “You two didn’t get to that chapter yet.” Kevin said slowly “Sorry.”

“Max doesn’t wear anything, so I didn’t think it was a thing.”

“That’s because, despite a song saying otherwise, Bob is a show off. He enchanted some ink and gave him a tattoo. I’m not quite on that level…yet, but you don’t strike me a tattoo girl anyway.”

“I have a necklace that my mom gave me. Would that work?” he asked taking off the simple chain.

“Yeah, this’ll do just fine.”

A grumble came from Max as he dug his head into Giovanni’s stomach. “Five more minutes.” Kevin smirked leaning over to flick him on the back of his head. “I hate you.” Max flipped him off stretching as he sat up. “Oh,” a brief look of panic flashed in his eyes “Hi Aquaria, I hope I didn’t drool on you.”

“It’s fine,” Giovanni laughed “I’m glad you’re okay…you are okay right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kevin and Giovanni looked at Max confused “Well last night you-“ Giovanni was cut off by the other queens getting on board. Max turned away putting headphones on at full volume. Kevin gestured for Giovanni to join him in his seat.

“What happened last night?” he whispered. “Cracker came to my room this morning talking a million miles a minute then left now she’s acting weird .”

“Is it because I… bit him?”

“You’re still a fledging, any venom you have would have just been a slight buzz, not enough to cause a head rush like a full vamp would.”

Giovanni thought for a moment “He told me how he became a… you know.”

Kevin’s face dropped, he glanced back at Max who was lip-syncing his part. “That’s sore subject with him.”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“You have the right to be curious, he didn’t have to tell you but he did cause he trusts you. He didn’t tell you everything though did he?”

“I don’t know. I thought he did.”

“We’ll talk later, now get your skinny ass up with Asia she’s staring daggers into me and I can’t tell if she’s joking anymore.”

Cracker’s POV

Max could still hear Kevin and Giovanni despite the music blaring in his ears.

“-He didn’t tell you everything though did he?” Max went stiff, pausing the music and glaring at the back of Kevin’s head

“I don’t know. I thought he did.”

“We’ll talk later, now get your skinny ass up with Asia she’s staring daggers into me and I can’t tell if she’s joking anymore.”

Giovanni joined the rest of his team and Kevin slid in next to Max, who hit play on the music pretending that he hadn’t been listening in. Kevin rolled his eyes, taking one of Max’s hand in his own squeezing it comfortingly.

September 5th 2009

‘Ow’ Max thought as his brain sluggishly regained consciousness. ‘How much did I have to drink last night.’ His throat was so dry he couldn’t talk, he opened his eyes, only to be blinded by the brightness of his room, immediately he closed them again. ‘Must of left the curtains open.’ He tried to sit up but his muscles ached and refused to move more than a couple inches.

“Isn’t it normal for Cracker to go on these creative binges where she goes AWOL for a bit them comes back with some badass creation.” He heard Kevin’s voice coming from the living room.

“Yeah, but normally Katelyn’s here to make sure he eats and sleeps, and she will kill us if she comes home to a neglected Cracker.” Chris responded “I’ll check the bedroom, you order takeout.”

Max attempted to sit up again but his body screamed at him, heavy footsteps came down the hallway, opening his bedroom.

“Max!” Chris yelled, suddenly Max felt warm hands on his shoulders making him realized how cold he was. “Max!” he yelled again shaking him. Max felt a quiet whimper leave his throat.

“Chris what- Oh my god!” Kevin screamed. “Is he?”

“Not quite. Stay with him while I call Jamin.”

“Why are you calling Betty and not an ambulance?”

“Because this isn’t something humans can fix. Look at his arms and neck.” Chris sounded angry in way Max had never heard before.

‘Hold on… humans?’ Max thought as he felt Kevin’s pull him close, the heat from the others body was suffocating but not in a way that made him uncomfortable, it was actually soothing, ‘How did I not notice how cold it was in here.’

“Ed?” Kevin said coldly.

‘What does my ex have to do with this? What even is this? Why does everything hurt?’

“When I find that son a bitch-“ Kevin started

“Let’s focus on Max right now.” Chris interrupted.

Max heard a weird whooshing noise and felt wind on his face.

“Let me see him.” Jamin said worriedly.

‘How did Betty get here so fast?’

Kevin reluctantly pulled away taking his warmth with him, Max felt his body twitch in an attempt to get it back. He mentally recoiled from the icy hands that seemed to study him.

“I’d say he a about a week into the transition.” Jamin said.

“He’s only been AWOL for a few days, how is that possible?” Kevin asked.

“We’ve only heard from him through text.” Chris said sniffling. “Is there anything you can do?”

“I can give him a pick me up but the rest is up to him.” Jamin sighed.

“Do it.”

The room went silent, then filled with a smell that made his stomach growl loudly, ‘Fuck I’m starving.’ He felt a cold hand open his mouth and a warm, gooey, delicious liquid flowed into it. He heard another growl, but this time it didn’t sound human, his arms moved quickly despite the pain to grip tightly around Jamin’s arm, gulping down the heavenly substance. The pain gradually ebbed away and the need to keep drinking subsided, reluctantly he detached his mouth, he slowly blinked as his vision focused to see Jamin looking at him worriedly and Kevin who was sobbing quietly into Chris’s side, Chris also had tears streaming down his face as he rubbed circles into Kevin’s back.

“Max?” Jamin spoke slowly bringing his attention back to him.

“What?” Max said in croaky voice, feeling spit run down his chin he whipped it with back of a shaky hand, pulling it back to see red, red that also covered Jamin’s arm and the sheets. His eyes started feeling heavy and his head was spinning “B-“ next thing he knew he was submerged in darkness again.

Max groaned pulling his blanket closer to him as he desperately tried to fall back to sleep. He heard muffled talking from the other room, he sat up examining his surroundings. He was in his bed. ‘Weird fucking dr-‘ Max’s thought was cut off as he spotted red staining his light blue bed sheets.

“Chris!” he yelled, his voice coming out louder than he had expected it to. The door flew open and Chris, followed by Kevin and Jamin, rushed in. “It…it wasn’t a dream.” He said softly. Chris quickly got on the bed, pulling Max into the tightest hug he’d ever experienced.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop this, but I promise you it’s going to be okay.” The taller said stroking his hair.

“What the hell is going on?”

An hour later Max sat on his bed, wrapped up in his blanket, a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Chris entered carrying a cup of tea “Max.” he said softly.

“What do you want me to say?” Max said sharply “This is a lot to take in. Vampires, magic, all of this isn’t supposed to be real. And now I'm…I don’t even know what I am.”

“You are the exact same person you were a week ago.”

“No I’m not! Look me in the eye and tell me that everything can go back to normal.”

Chris was silent.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Max sobbed.

“Don’t say that.” Chris said holding back tears “You’re right everything is changing but you, who you are, the hilarious, creative, kind person that is Maxwell Heller, that doesn’t have to change. You’re still you just as a vampire.”

“I don’t want this.” Max said darkly.

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

“Okay,” Chris whispered sadly.

November 2nd 2009

Kevin groaned as his phone rang beside him “What Bob?” he mumbled sleepily

“Max isn’t answering his phone.”

Kevin’s stomach dropped “He still has a few more weeks.”

“The transition period isn’t exact, Kev I can’t go there by myself…if he is…” Chris broke off with a sob.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there.” Kevin said trying to keep his cool.

Two swirling portals opened up in the tiny apartment. Chris and Kevin shaking as they peered around the empty living room.

“Max?” Kevin shouted. There was a loud thump from the small dark hallway. “Max?” Kevin said going closer, freezing looking at the floor, Chris followed his gaze to the red staining the gray carpet. They followed the trail to the bathroom. They gasped in unison at the sight of a blood soaked Max slumped against the bathtub. “Max!” Kevin cried crouching in front of him, he paused looking at the blood that had smeared on his had from Max’s chest it was bright red and cold. Chris leaned forward looking to the tub, that was filled with bloodied plastic bags. Blood bags.

Max suddenly gasped, seizing up, he eyes were bloodshot, the veins under them prominent, his red stained canines extended, his nails sharpened to a point that tore through Kevin’s hoodie as his body shook violently.

“Max! Hey, hey, hey it’s me, it Kevin.” He said cupping Max’s face as the shaking calmed and Max’s eyes slowly returned to normal.

“What happened?”

“I…I heard something so I went to check it out, but when I got to the hallway there was blood on the floor and I…I…I don’t remember.” Max held up his bloodied hands “Oh God what did I do?” he panicked.

Chris picked up one of the blood bags from the tub, ran it under water in the sink.

Didn’t know your favorite, so I got them all. Love Ed

Was written in sharpie on the bag.

#miz cracker #aquaria #monet x change #kameron michaels #bob the drag queen #craquaria #supernatural au #eliptic #rpdr fanfiction #s10 #something about aquaria #m/m au

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stickballl · 6 years

Text

Sunshine after Moonlight Pt. 2

Part 1 ao3

“How does that feel?” Riko asked inches above Jean’s face, one knife slipped under the skin on his arm, another with the flat of the blade pressed right under his eye. Jean knew not to squirm, not to give Riko another reason to hurt him. He’d already done enough wrong, tripped over his own feet at practice, fumbling the ball and costing Riko a shot. Kevin had saved it, scoring in seconds and only making Jean’s night worse. And yet the knives and Riko’s words weren’t the things tearing his resolve apart. It was the look in Kevin’s eyes after the goal blared red, the light that Riko had all but extinguished over the years. And the crushing realization that Jean would do anything to keep that look on Kevin’s face regardless of what it would cost him.

Kevin was sitting on his legs now with his back to Jean. His hands had a vice grip on Jean’s shins, a painful but grounding reminder of why he put up with this every day. He could do this, live with the cuts and bruises, purposely mess up, just so that he kept Riko’s eyes on him instead of Kevin.

“Answer me. Do you like it?” Riko asked. Jean swallowed his rage before he met Riko’s gaze.

“Yes,” he seethed. Something dark flashed behind Riko’s eyes. He leaned forward, his breath hot and heavy on Jean’s cheek, and placed his lips next to Jean’s ear.

“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked. Jean didn’t have enough time to respond. The knife under his eye slipped, slicing the skin down to his jaw. He couldn’t stop the scream this time as black danced across his vision and pain burned down his throat. His skin tore against the cuffs on his wrists and his legs bucked against Kevin’s weight. His movements jostled the knife in his arm, lodging it deeper. Riko’s laughs mixed with Jean’s screams, filling the air with a sickening melody that had become too popular in the Nest.

Riko let go of the knives, leaving them in place under Jean’s skin, and battered his bare stomach with endless punches. Jean grunted against them, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and switched cheeks. His world shrunk to Riko’s fists, the repetition of the blows, the guaranteed pain of each punch, the screams that ripped through the air, the cries for help that went completely ignored, the routine of practice, class, practice, pain. Interrupted by nothing short of an emergency. Jean coming home to Riko and Kevin sitting on his bed, a deadly smile on Riko’s face. There was nothing else.

The blows only stopped when Jean had to turn his head to the side and vomit onto the floor. Riko laughed again, hopping off the bed to look Jean in the eyes. The same sick, twisted smile that Riko had every night stared back at him. He could see Riko’s hand descending toward him in the corner of his vision, but he didn’t dare look away. He kept eye contact even as Riko threw the knives aside and pressed his thumb into the cut on Jean’s face. He writhed on his bed, crying until his voice gave out and his pleas were just over a strained whisper. Agony filled his entire being, curling his toes and tightening every muscle in his body. Red painted his vision, obscuring Riko’s face into a mess of melted flesh and blood. But his smile was blinding and unmistakable.

“Riko, please. Please stop,” Jean begged through his screams. In a second, he felt the almost overwhelming relief when Riko withdrew his thumb. With a sneer, he wiped the blood on Jean’s other cheek before rearing his fist back and striking him one more time in the chest. He was left breathless, fighting to regain his control. He could see nothing but Riko’s smile, hear nothing but his laugh, feel nothing but his hands roaming every inch of his body no matter how many times he begged and pleaded. The black of the room loomed over him, suffocated him, and he couldn’t see. He thrashed against the restraints on his wrists, kicked his legs until they were finally free, and prayed for even the smallest flicker of hope.

He couldn’t breathe anymore. Shadows hovered over him, hands clawing down his skin. He called for help, asked for relief for just a second, but nothing stopped. It was a replay of every night, every reprimand for the stupid mistakes he couldn’t help. Their claws skinned him, bled him, leaving him empty with nothing else left to give. They kept scraping, though, and Jean could do nothing but let them, resigned to whatever fate Riko and his monsters had designed for him.

“Jean, please listen to me,” one of them whispered, filtering through the rest. It took a couple seconds for Jean to recognize the French and immediately everything around him disappeared. His arms were freed and gently lowered to his sides. Kevin’s hands running gently through Jean’s hair replaced the memory of Riko pulling hundreds of strands out. His reassuring words drowned out the barked orders and laughed taunts. “Listen to my voice and nothing else. Jean, I-I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” he croaked, nails scraping his throat. He swallowed, but it only made it worse. He lifted his hand and brushed the back of his fingers on Kevin’s cheek. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do this, so you don’t get to apologize.”

Kevin nodded, threading his fingers through Jean’s. He held on tight, pressing light kisses over Jean’s fingers. “I know. Doesn’t mean I like it,” he snapped. His hands roamed Jean’s body, poking and prodding at each bruise until he seemed satisfied. Jean bit his lip to stifle his groans, afraid of adding to Kevin’s worries. Kevin returned to his face, fingers gingerly checking the slash on his cheek. He pressed a little too close to the cut and Jean jerked back with a hiss.

“I can still play, Kev,” Jean said. Kevin glared at him, but some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He brushed Jean’s hair back, lightly massaging his scalp. Jean closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. The light, calming touch drowned out the throbbing in his stomach and the horrible ache in his jaw.

“I don’t think anything is broken,” Kevin said. He leaned forward and kissed Jean’s forehead. “I’ll go find Liza and bring her here.”

Jean nodded and all too soon Kevin was gone, leaving Jean completely cold and alone with his nightmares. He tried to keep his mind occupied, searched the room for anything other than the all encompassing black surrounding him. His eyes started playing tricks on him, creating dancing shadows against the walls, and it wasn’t long until he started hearing the echoes of laughter and taunts. He pressed his eyes shut, ignoring the pain shooting through his cheek, and grit his teeth. He started counting in French, and when he went high enough, he switched to Japanese, then started listing every player in Class I Exy. He stopped after ten teams when he realized nothing was working.

Fear wrapped itself around Jean’s throat and threatened to squeeze until any sign of life was gone. He tried to call out for someone, for Kevin, but his voice failed him each time. Seconds turned into minutes turned into days, stretched by the pain lining every breath and the terror of what awaited him. He knew of countless days spent exactly like this one, with Riko towering over him with his smile sharp as his knives. Waking up the next day with dark bruises and injuries he fought to hide on the court. At least six more years of this routine, possibly more if the Master refused to let Jean sign to any other professional team than the one Riko signed.

Jean thought of his scarred wrists, of how three years before, he’d dreamed of a release of any kind from Riko’s control. Kevin had tried to convince him he didn’t need it anymore, that whatever he needed, he could get from playing, from the thrill of the game, of each smile he allowed himself, but running and tossing a ball around with a torn ACL or a dislocated hip did nothing other than remind him of what had happened the night before and what waited for him that night. He couldn’t find the same solace in exy as Kevin did. Jean found it in Kevin. In those smiles he’d get when he made an impossible play, in the way his eyes glinted whenever the Master awarded him a compliment, in the way he’d given himself to Jean, fully and uninhibited. He’d found something to keep him standing after endless blows. He’d stopped hurting himself because Kevin had asked, and Jean was quickly realizing there was nothing he wouldn’t give him.

He tried to sit up, hissed through the almost unbearable pain, and set himself against the wall, panting from the effort. He cradled his bloodied arm against his chest, careful to avoid any of the small cuts. His head throbbed painfully as he rested it back against the wall. He flexed his fingers, grimacing at the lack of strength. There was some kind of nerve damage and Jean could only pray that it was temporary and he could still play. Riko wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he could no longer keep up with him and Kevin.

The door slammed open, jarring him from his thoughts. Liza walked in, a medical kit in her hands, a cool look of apathy on her face. She set her kit on the bed and set to work on his arm first. Kevin hung back in the doorway, face pinched in worry. His arms were crossed over his chest, fingers digging into his skin. Jean kept his eyes on him the whole time, trying to convey that he was fine, that he’d survived worse. Kevin didn’t look convinced. He kept his distance, though, until Liza finished on his chest and moved to the cut on his face. She began cleaning the blood from his face as Kevin sat next to him on the bed. His fingers brushed over Jean’s, nothing more than a quick, fleeting touch, as he settled and watched Liza work. Jean did his best to keep from wincing as she thread the stitches through his skin, clutching the edge of the mattress. Kevin pressed his hand against Jean’s back, fingers splayed between his shoulder blades. It wasn’t much, but Jean knew that was as much as Kevin could give, especially with Liza in front of them both. He leaned against the touch.

Liza gave him quick instructions on injury care and the mandatory lecture of injury prevention she was sick of giving, just as much as Jean was of hearing it. They were both well aware there was nothing he could plausibly do to keep from getting sliced open. She left clean bandages on his dresser before leaving.

As the door closed, Kevin let his head fall on Jean’s shoulder. His hand trailed over Jean’s torso, just light enough for Jean to feel it without any pain. He breathed deeply and let his head rest on Kevin’s, slotting their fingers together. He brought their hands up to his lips.

“You need to go back to your room before Riko gets suspicious,” Jean muttered in French. Kevin shook his head. He kissed Jean’s shoulder, trailing up his neck to just under the new bandage on his cheek. Jean turned his head and pressed their foreheads together.

“I can’t. Not yet,” Kevin insisted. He held Jean’s hand tighter. The extra pressure brought another wave of relief crashing over Jean. The calming effect Kevin had on Jean hadn’t lessened in the years they’d been together. It tethered him, kept him from falling too far into his thoughts. He’d pulled him back from the edge too many times, just as Jean had done for Kevin, but there was one key difference Jean tried his hardest not to focus on. Without Jean, Kevin would go on to be the player he was destined to be, rise to the top of international exy if he wanted to. Without Kevin, Jean would almost cease to exist. There was nothing to look forward to. Exy was tiresome. Riko saw him as nothing but a plaything. He had nothing except Kevin.

He’d never admit any of that to Kevin, never dare to say it out loud, but that didn’t make it any less real, any less startling.

“Go, Kev,” Jean said. Kevin nodded and kissed the corner of Jean’s mouth. It took all of Jean’s remaining strength to keep still and not wrap his arms around Kevin as he hopped off the bed. He walked slowly to the door, each step a painful pull in Jean’s heart. Kevin offered a pained smile before he disappeared and Jean was left alone again. He pushed himself onto the floor with a grunt and ripped his sheets off his bed. He threw them to the side, ignoring the squelch of the wet blood when it landed. He fell onto the bare mattress more than climbed onto it and pressed his face into his pillow. The room reeked of blood and vomit, but his exhaustion overpowered everything else. He closed his eyes and waited for his heart beat to settle back down. The last thing he saw was Riko’s smile as he’d shoved the knife under his skin.

#aftg #aftg fic #kevin day #jean moreau #tfc #all for the game #fanfic #message me your thoughts!!#or if you have a request!

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svragent · 6 years

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Ash! Give me some Kandreil fluff where they actually go skiing ♡

Hey! I had so much fun writing this and I’m glad you asked for fluff because it ran away with me at the end. Hope you like it! x

Day 3: The Words Left Unsaid

“You ok?”

Andrew’s grip tightens on the ski poles but he doesn’t reply - instead, he takes a shuddering breath and inches forward towards down the slope, looking down cautiously. It’s the most vulnerable Kevin has ever seen him, and something twists inside his stomach at the sight.

“It scares me too,” Kevin says, sliding closer to him. “I knew it would be high, but not like this.” He watches as Andrew takes a few deep breaths through his nose. “We can go back if you want. I’m sure Neil won’t mind.”

Andrew snaps his head in his direction and stares at him for a few discernible moments, before shaking his head. He pushes himself forward again, hands trembling.

Kevin hovers a hand over Andrew’s to get his attention, but knows better than to touch him. “I’ll go first, ok?”

“Ok,” Andrew says through gritted teeth. It’s progress. Kevin gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile and pulls back his hand. He takes a deep breath and pushes himself off the slope. It’s hard to stay steady, but he manages a few feet without losing control or falling and chances a look back at Andrew. He grins when he sees him sliding down to join him.

“Doing great,” Kevin says.

“Fuck off,” Andrew snaps back, but there’s no heat in his voice.

Slowly they make their way down to the bottom. At one point, Kevin slips, and the only thing keeping him upright is the hand that shoots out to grab him in time.

“I hate this,” Andrew says once he helps Kevin right himself. “Fucking Josten.” And he pushes off again, but Kevin notices the way he keeps looking back.

Eventually the slope evens out and they finally breathe a sigh of relief when they hit the bottom. Andrew takes a moment to recollect himself, and Kevin takes the chance to scan their surroundings for their missing boyfriend, but Neil is lost among the crowd. With a shaky grin, Kevin turns back to Andrew and asks: “Ready for round two?”

Back in their hotel room, Kevin runs his fingers through Neil’s hair, combing out the windswept tangles. “You were good, for a beginner.”

“You were awful.”

Kevin laughs, giving his curls a playful tug. “I know,” he says and steals a kiss. “But I had fun.”

Andrew snorts beside them. He’s in his pyjamas, having showered first, and wrapped up in the duvet. In his hands is a steaming mug of hot chocolate. “You weren’t saying that when you fell.”

“Oh shut up, you fell too.”

Andrew glares. “You dragged me down with you.”

Kevin’s grin only widens and he watches Andrew’s scowl deepen until he eventually gets bored with their stare-off and turns back to the TV. Neil leans back against him and Kevin returns his attention down to the boyfriend sitting in his lap, pressing another kiss to the top of his head.

“Thank you,” he whispers softly.

Neil hums. “You needed some time away. It’s good to see you relaxed for once.”

“No.” When Neil looks up in confusion, he reaches his hand out and brushes a thumb over the scars. “For all of this. Everything. I don’t say it enough.” He can feel Andrew’s attention on them even if he isn’t looking their way.

Neil is stunned for a moment, but eventually he smiles and closes his hand over Kevin’s. He pulls it to his lips and brushes a kiss against his fingers. There are words between them unspoken, words that should express how they feel yet wouldn’t even begin to touch the depths of their feelings; their love in their actions, in the warmth of Neil’s breath across his fingertips, in the flickering warmth of Andrew’s eyes as he tilts his head towards them, in the genuine smile on Kevin’s face that can only be brought about by the two of them.

But maybe someday, the words that are on their tongues will make themselves known.

Send me a Kandreil christmas prompt and I’ll write it for you

#hi i'm tired and emotional over kandreil #aftg #all for the game #kandreil #andreil #kandrew #kevineil #25daysofkandreil #nathanprescottz

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arentwelost · 7 years

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what if i did // riko moriyama x kevin day // words by me // hanahaki disease au

He comes out of the hospital void of blue forget-me-nots stuck in his throat, void of all kinds of feelings for Kevin Day. But he returns, every single damn time, with his heart overflowing with jealousy and anger, so much hate, and so much love for a boy he can't have.

Based on: "The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The flowers can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned."

When the media talks about them, it’s always Riko and Kevin, never separate entities. One is never mentioned without the other. They’re always together, inseparable, unbreakable. Some part of Riko, the selfish part, the part that wants to devour more than he can take, wishes that were true.

Riko lies in bed, surrounded by petals. A reminder of his own weakness, perhaps. He fights the desire to laugh.

His chest is still marred by scars, one after another, overlapping each other. He doesn’t remember how many trips he’s made to the hospital, Tetsuji forcing him to get rid of those flower petals that were not yet on the verge of suffocating him.

He then comes out of the hospital void of blue forget-me-nots in his throat, and void of all kinds of feelings for Kevin Day. But he returns, every time, with his heart overflowing with jealousy and anger, so much hate, and so much love. His feelings are like a hand grabbing him by his throat, refusing to let go whenever his thoughts wander to Kevin.

He closes his eyes and supposes this is the most effective revenge anyone has come up with.

Privacy is not a thing in the Nest. Secrets aren’t exactly secrets, and if something dares to come out of your mouth, everyone will know by the end of the day.

The Ravens like to pretend their soul are black holes, a void with no entrances and exits. They like to crush and choke on their feelings and force them down their throats than to voice them, and that usually results in a trip to the hospital with a surgery lined up. It isn’t unusual for someone to start having coughing fits in the middle of practice, or in the change room.

So no one gives a second glance at the crushed petals littered across the floor of Riko’s room.

Riko doesn’t remember a time when hospitals aren’t a part of the routine. He doesn’t remember what it feels like not to yearn for another soul, another body pressed against his. Doesn’t remember what it feels like to smell something without smelling full bloom. He doesn’t remember how to feel content, and comfortable in his own skin.

He feels empty even though there are flowers growing inside his lungs.

And sometimes he wakes up to white ceilings, white walls, white sheets, white bandages across his chest. Sometimes he wakes up to his body aching with fractured pieces of dreams and fantasies about black hair, black uniforms, black tattoos, black eyes.

Blue flowers.

Bathroom tiles. Overflowing sinks.

Constants, constants, constants.

Riko has lost count somewhere between the ninth and tenth visit to the hospital. Tetsuji has resorted to physical violence whenever he finds Riko suppressing his coughs, almost as if it would beat it out of him. Riko would spit the blood from his mouth and he wouldn’t think about how he was flushing little blue flowers down the toilet an hour ago. He would look proud and undefeatable, back straight and head high, accepting whatever Tetsuji has for him without as much as a wince.

Tetsuji leaves him battered and bruised and aching for an end, red and purple matted with healing yellow.

Jean only comes to his room when he’s carrying a first aid kit these days. He would apply antiseptic on Riko’s back with a mask of indifference on his face and stitch up some of the worse looking cuts that are definitely going to scar. They don’t talk about it, whatever it is, and when Jean finishes up, he slams the box closed, walking out of Riko’s room as soon as it’s done.

Riko coughs, immediately covering his mouth with his hand, and regrets it because the action pulls on his stitches. When he pulls his hand away, crushed flowers are sitting on his palm, and Riko wishes it were blood instead.

Riko is drowning.

He’s always drowning.

His lungs don’t work as well as it did before, which is almost a given with all the half healed wounds on his chest from being emptied out so many times. Drills and practices that he could have completed with ease now leave him breathless and desperate for air, for a solution that isn’t surgery, surgery, surgery again.

On some days when Tetsuji felt like it, he would make him run extra laps around the court, and Riko would bite down as hard as he clenches his hands, digging his nails into his palm. He would then run until his lungs and throat burnt, until his legs and arms felt numb, then join the rest of the Ravens with their drills.

Riko is drowning, and Kevin Day is the goddamn sea that’s pulling him in.

Riko hugs Kevin in front of the cameras and he resists the urge to cough when Kevin awkwardly pats him on the back. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wishes this wasn’t for publicity, and he pretends it doesn’t hurt when Kevin freezes when Riko snakes his arm around Kevin’s waist. He remembers a time when his touch didn’t cause fear. He doesn’t remember a time when someone touched him like he wasn’t a monster.

He lets go because Kevin wasn’t his no matter how much he wants him, no matter how much he tries to convince himself, and smiles the smile he’s been taught since he was old enough to be out in front of the camera.

He is Riko Moriyama, the Raven King. He is Riko Moriyama, and he has the weight of his surname rested upon his shoulders, a blade pressed against his throat.

He isn’t Riko, who has forget-me-nots stuck in his throat because he’s head over heels in love with someone he can’t have.

Kevin tells Wymack and Abby that he’s going to the bathroom before Andrew forcibly drags him back onto their bus, and he seems surprised when he finds Riko staring at his own reflection in the bathroom. Riko watches Kevin square his shoulders in a moment of courage instead of turning away to find another bathroom and leaving him alone.

Seeing Kevin Day again is scratching the newly formed scab after a particularly bad fall and then panicking when it starts to bleed again. And it’s not even metaphorical because Riko has ripped his chest apart every single time his feelings for Kevin start to suffocate him, and the wound never heals properly before he has to cut it open again.

Kevin takes a step closer to Riko, and stills. He opens his mouth and closes it again, like he has something to say but doesn’t know how to phrase it.

Riko’s gaze on his reflection doesn’t waver. He clenches his jaw. “Spit it out, Kevin.”

“…How long?” Kevin asks, voice coming out higher than what he expected, and clears his throat.

Riko raises an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean, how long?”

Kevin sighs, closing the distance between them. Riko’s knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping onto the sink and his lips are quivering when Kevin picks up a loose blue petal from the ground, holding it out to him.

And Riko laughs, the sound surprising both of them. The laughter prompts another round of coughing, and more petals slip between his fingers. The sink is tainted with small drops of blood and blue flowers by the end of it, and Riko turns on the tap to wash away worse of it.

“How long have I been coughing up forget-me-nots? Or how long do I have left before I suffocate and die?” Riko asks, his voice so weak that the words are barely making it out of his lips. “Not long, I’m sure. Don’t worry.”

“That’s not what–”

“That’s exactly what you meant,” Riko whispers harshly, picking up one of the petals, wet and stuck on the basin. “Forget-me-nots, Kevin. You remember that conversation, right?”

Kevin remembers which conversation Riko is referring to, even though he doesn’t want to.

It was night, and one of the Ravens were escorted out of the Nest after leaving carnations all over the pristine tiles of the shared bathroom. They were sitting on the same bed, doing their homework or whatever it was back then, when Kevin asked, seemingly out of nowhere considering they had been working in silence for a very long time, what kind of flower would you be?

Riko frowned, never thought about this until now, and answered with the first flower that came into mind. Kevin nodded, going back to his work. It wasn’t until later when Riko had almost forgotten about this conversation, when Kevin said forget-me-nots, like he had taken all this time to come up with something fitting.

“Riko, I…” Kevin starts, but trails off because he doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t want to know what this implies.

Riko laughs again. “No, Kevin.” The I hurt you is swallowed down, and he turns to look at Kevin instead of the reflection of them in the mirror.

He’s still tall as ever, eyebrows furrowed as he watches Riko. The heaviness in his chest turns into full blown pain, and he makes sure his smile doesn’t waver as Kevin continues to look at him wearily.

“I’ll just get it removed,” he shrugs like this doesn’t matter, like this is no big deal, when he knows he can’t keep on making trips to the hospital. Kevin stands, unmoving when Riko starts to make his way out of the bathroom, walking past him. He stops just as before he opens the door.

“You’ll never let me love you, anyway,” he hears himself say, and he doesn’t have it in him to allow himself to figure out whether Kevin heard him.

Perhaps in another time and life, where Riko isn’t so damaged – isn’t forced to become a monster filled with thorns and claws so he could defend himself – he would be happy. He wouldn’t have a weight suffocating him, wouldn’t have bruises on his legs or along his sides. Wouldn’t have flowers growing inside him, reminding him that he deserves this after what he did to Kevin.

Riko lies in bed, surrounded by petals. He’s dying, his bed a coffin and this is his funeral and oh god he needs to write it down somewhere - like a suicide note or something - that he doesn’t want any forget-me-nots anywhere near his grave.

He fights the desire to laugh.

He manages a weak one anyway, which proves to be a mistake because he ends up coughing up even more flowers.

Tetsuji is out somewhere for a meeting today, and Riko knows he won’t be back anytime soon. Although some part of him is yelling at him for being so stupid, letting himself go like this, another part is relieved, reason still unknown to him because the truth is a puzzle he’s too tired to figure out anymore.

Riko is drowning. He has always been drowning, and has always been stubborn enough to keep swimming up to breath into fresh air again. But today he’s not going to fight it. Today, he’s going to close his eyes and let the currents drag him further away from the shore.

He’s going to let the sea take him.

And when the media talks about them, it’s a one line description in a magazine featuring an exclusive interview with Kevin Day that doesn’t even detail a fraction of who Riko used to be. The first exy player to die of Hanahaki Disease, Riko Moriyama was the former captain of Edgar Allen’s Ravens and Day’s childhood friend.

#haha yes i went there #this took me way too long #i'm not satisfied with it :/#school killed my already Bad mental health #i haven't had time to do anything #gonna be on semi hiatus for 2 years #hanahaki disease au #angsty angst #sad #riko/kevin #riko moriyama #kevin day #ao3 #fanfic #mine #tfc #aftg

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markonasurface · 7 years

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13/50 - “How can anyone not be afraid of love?”

Fandom: All for the Game/The Foxhole Court Characters/pairings: Neil, Andrew, Kevin, Nicky, Matt/andreil Summary:

A/N: Hope this is okay. I’ve been sleeping a lot so I tried to write this in between during the time I was awake so I hope it’s coherent? Also, I think I’m pleased with the last half or fourth or whatever of the fic. Like, pretty darn pleased. I hope you are, too.

Neil grabbed Andrew’s hand, still reveling in the fact that he was allowed to touch him. He followed him the short distance to the door, ignoring the looks passed between teammates.

“Stay,” Andrew said.

“Why?” Neil tilted his head and leaned in close.

“We won, the team is getting along, they’re celebrating.”

Neil furrowed his brows. “But you’re leaving.”

Andrew shrugged, unbothered. “I’m just tired. I’m going to sleep.”

“Me, too.”

“Stay.”

“Andrew.”

He stared Neil down until finally admitting, “I think I’m getting a cold. If I get you sick, Kevin might kill me.”

Neil snorted. “Okay, yeah.” He grabbed the back of Andrew’s head and pulled him close. Despite his words, Andrew kissed him back, hands coming up to rest on Neil’s waist. Neil pushed his shoulder gently and Andrew stepped back so that his back was pressed to the door.

“Get a room!” Nicky called and Andrew immediately put a hand up between Neil and himself.

The others joined in the teasing and Neil rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”

He turned back to Andrew and kissed him quickly. “Text me if you need anything.” When Andrew paused Neil rolled his eyes again. “I know what’s taking you so long. You’re deciding between ‘I won’t need anything’ and ‘when’s the last time your phone was even on?’”

Andrew cocked an eyebrow and Neil kissed him again. “I’ll come check on you soon.” He kissed him once more because he could, then opened the door to let him out.

Aaron and Katelyn were standing outside the dorm room with some other Vixens and Neil left the door agape. He went back to where the others sat on couches, drinking and listening to music.

“Oh, Neil, I love you!” Nicky cried dramatically, hanging off a freshman girl.

She pulled his face close to hers and breathed, “Andrew! I love you!”

“We don’t sound like that,” Neil said dully. “We’ve never said those words either so it’s all just really inaccurate.”

He sat next to Kevin, who as usual decided to seclude himself with his drinks. He didn’t want the conversation to dwell on their kisses but Nicky looked offended.

Finally, Neil said, “What?”

“You’ve been together for nearly a year!” Nicky said.

“So?” Neil fidgeted uncomfortably.

Matt ruffled Neil’s hair from behind and asked, “What are we talking about?”

“Neil and Andrew.”

“Oh, this should be good,” Dan slurred. She picked up her drink off a table and clumsily made her way over.

“What about them?” Matt pressed.

“They haven’t said I love you, yet,” Nicky whined.

Matt cursed. “Fuck! Dammit, Neil.”

“What now?” Neil asked impatiently.

“He just lost a hundred dollars,” Allison informed him cooly.

“Fuck off.”

“Neil, it’s been a year,” Nicky tried to squeeze in between Neil and Kevin. Kevin tried to shove him off.

Matt rested his chin on top of Neil’s head. “After seeing you guys after Baltimore. You know. When he wrapped you up and presumably bathed with you?”

Neil felt his face turn red. “What?”

“I bet you’d already said it.”

“What?” Neil spluttered. “Why would you do that?”

He felt Matt shrug. “He showered in our room. He came out wearing your clothes.”

Neil looked around the room, suddenly very aware of the audience they had acquired. There was a scale in Neil’s mind of Kevin to strangers. It varied sometimes, but most of the time it went Neil, Neil and Andrew, Kevin, Matt Nicky Aaron, the girls, the freshmen, the Vixens, complete strangers. He didn’t know if his scale measured uncomfortableness or just stated the fact of who was there but at the moment he didn’t care because they were at complete strangers.

“It’s not your business,” Neil said and shoved Nicky off of his and Kevin’s laps. “Leave me alone.”

Matt gave his hair one last pat before going off with Dan to his room. Kevin waited until everyone had stopped staring and started drinking and dancing before glancing at Neil.

In slurred and poorly conjugated French that took Neil a few extra seconds to decipher, he said, “You love each other though. That’s why the others are so surprised. It’s obvious.”

Neil considered ignoring Kevin, too, but gave in to his curiosity. “Is it?”

“Of course it is,” Kevin said fiercely. “You obviously have never seen the way you look at him.”

Kevin studied the contemplative look on Neil’s face. “Did you not realize that you love him?”

Neil pursed his lips. He grabbed the drink from Kevin’s hand and took a sip. He considered his words carefully. “I don’t think I know what - I - do you love Thea?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I risked punishment from Riko and the Master,” Kevin said. “I never stop thinking about her. I want to see her on the court but I also want to see her off the court? I don’t think I’m making any sense right now.”

Neil handed Kevin back his drink. “Too drunk for this conversation in - not English.” The last two words he spoke in English and Kevin gave him a rare smile.

“I’ll crash - here on the couch - or in Aaron’s bed.” Kevin looked around until he spotted the twin. “Looks like he’ll be going home with Katelyn tonight.”

Neil stood up and Kevin said, “Love is hard for us. Our pasts don’t mean we were never meant to find it. It’s a-a-a shiko (試行) - uh, shiren (試練). Not love - our - fuck -”

“I don’t speak Japanese, Kevin,” Neil reminded him without any heat. “Goodnight.”

“Oyas - bonne nuit!”

Andrew was blowing his nose when Neil locked the door behind him. He made his way through the dark to the bedroom and found Andrew in his bed surrounded by used tissues.

“Hey,” Neil spoke quietly when he returned with the tiny trashcan from under his desk. He swept the dirty tissues into the trashcan before sitting on the bed.

In the sparse light coming through the blinds, Neil could see Andrew’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot. He reached a hand out to touch his forehead and cheeks.

“You’ve got a fever,” Neil murmured and Andrew shivered. “Did you take anything?”

Andrew nodded slowly, eyes closing.

“I’ll sleep in your bed?”

Neil started to slide down so his feet could touch the ground but Andrew’s hand on his wrist stopped him. He looked at him quizzically.

“Stay,” Andrew croaked and Neil couldn’t believe how bad he’d gotten in the last hour. “For a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Neil kicked off his shoes so he could curl up on his bed next to Andrew. He absently stroked his fingers through sweat-damp hair.

“Are you okay?” Andrew asked and Neil could tell he was fighting sleep. “Tell me.”

Neil rested his hand on Andrew’s cheek.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“How can anyone not be afraid of love?” Neil blurted quietly.

Andrew recoiled at the question, then forced himself to relax again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Kevin’s mother must have loved him but she died when he was seven. He was taken in by people who should have loved him but all they did was abuse him,” Neil’s voice steadily grew stronger. “And he had to hide it.”

Neil returned Andrew’s questioning gaze with a furious one of his own. “Dan asked her aunt to be her mother and all she did was nothing but discourage her. Matt’s mom loves him but she left him with his father who also loved him but let him get addicted to drugs and let random friends rape him. Allison’s parents love her but only if she looks how they want her to and acts how they want her to which makes me think they don’t love her at all. Nicky’s -”

“Stop.” Andrew’s voice cracked. Neil took a deep breath.

“My mother loved me.” he forced himself to continue despite the way his voice shook. “But she couldn’t stop him from hurting me. She didn’t even try because she knew it was no fucking use.”

Andrew’s hand came up to rest on his cheek, fingertips brushing against the round edges of his burn scars, but he waited for Neil to keep going.

“She loved me so much that she risked both our lives to get me away from him, away from the Moriyamas - from Riko. She died because she loved me,” Neil returned to a whisper, his hand gripping Andrew’s tightly. “But she hurt me, too. And I still fucking hate Aaron but now I understand what she did wasn’t exactly right either.

“Maybe somewhere along the way I started to associate love with pain -” Neil leaned his forehead against Andrew’s carefully. “But seeing Dan and Matt, Aaron and Katelyn, hearing Nicky talk about Erik ... the way that Coach and Abby take care of us - it confuses me. When the others talk about love and me and you, it scares me. I don’t want to hurt you. I won’t ever hurt you.

“But I love you.” The words slipped out and Neil squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

He expected Andrew to shove him away or swear at him or maybe even laugh. He didn’t expect Andrew to pull him close and whisper, “Yes or no?” - a question they only used in their most vulnerable moments - and press kisses to his skin.

“Don’t apologize for how you feel,” Andrew said, lips so close to Neil’s that he could feel every word. “Ever.”

#aftg #tfc #andreil #tfc fic #i think i might've made andrew sick cause i'm sick

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