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crazy-fangirl2524 · 21 hours

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I would have let you by theresnothis

“Neil wanted to scream but he swallowed it like his guilt and maybe this was what the four letter word looked like: trust, understanding, devotion; I would kill and die for you. Dying by your hands as an act of love from both sides.”

Sometimes Neil Josten just slips and Nathaniel takes over.

3k oneshot, hurt/comfort, slight angst, andreil, please read it lol.

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mawofthemagnetar · 2 months

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TFC’s Completely Normal Afternoon Where Nothing Goes Wrong And Nobody Dies Horribly

(shoutout to @lindentree for inspiring this silly fic!)

TFC sat in his little bachelor pad, coffee in hand, watching the steam rise out of his mug.

It was a nice mug, all things considered. A gift from the other Hermits. A handmade blue thing, turned on a potter’s wheel, with an extra-large handle to give his old hands a break sometimes. Full of coffee from his ancient coffee machine, that gurgled and growled like a jackhammer being waterboarded.

TFC took a sip, and winced. Okay, so maybe it was time to leave the mine and get more coffee. He’d re-used the grounds for the fourth time, and now it was really starting to get properly bitter.

He drummed his fingers on his glass-top table, listening to the echo against the cold stone walls of his little antechamber. Maybe he’d decorate the walls at some point soon.

TFC shrugged, and opened his comm. Hopefully one of the other Hermits had some coffee beans. He wiped the stone dust off his screen, and held down the three buttons to switch it on. Yes, he kept his comm strapped to his arm like almost every other player with some semblance of sense. No, he refused to let the damn thing be awake for any longer than it needed to be. The Hermits were chatty folks, and when TFC was deep in his mines and deep in thought, the last thing he needed interrupting his musings was a million buzzing noises as Cleo and Jevin got into a slapfight in the general chat.

TFC’s personal logo flashed across the screen (the three letters of his name in red, natch) and he took another slurp of his bitter coffee, wrinkling his nose. The comm beeped, and TFC opened the group chat and tapped out a quick message.

<Tinfoilchef> anyone got any more coffee? I’m clean out.

He put his comm down, and took another swig.

And waited.

TFC frowned. He was a patient man by nature. The same could not be said of the other Hermits, who were usually falling over themselves to help each other out.

And he hadn’t gotten a reply yet.

It had been a whole ninety seconds.

TFC scrolled up in chat, and he sighed, rubbing his face. He sank back in his chair in annoyance.

Of course.

He tabbed upwards, watching things spiral out of control… in reverse.

<Renthedog> THE PAIN! THE PAIN IS INDESCRIBABLE

<Vintagebeef> RUN! THE BOATS! THE BOATS ARE COMING!

TFC rubbed his temples with his free hand, sighing in exasperation. ‘

“Guys, I dug up five stacks of diamonds, don’t make me do this…I don’t want to re-dig those tunnels…” TFC groaned.

And of course the nonsense kept coming as he scrolled farther and farther back. Gee, that last message from Ren was about four hours ago, now...

<Iskall85> HELP GOD THE LOOM’S GROWN LEGS

“Does anyone on this server besides me even know HOW to weave?!” TFC growled, averting his gaze from his pile of unfinished weaving in the corner of the room. It didn’t exist. He couldn’t see it. His WIP’s couldn’t hurt him.

And on and on it went.

“Right, I’ve seen enough.” TFC sighed, “On the bright side, at least I’ll have all the coffee I had a week ago, so there’s that…”

He carefully tabbed through his various screens and menus until he arrived at the one bit of his comm that was set aside for admin functions. Now, TFC wasn’t a server admin. That much was true. But he had slight admin privileges, for one thing and one thing only: server rollbacks.

While, say, Hypno would have had an extensive wall of options, showing his permissions and all sorts of bells and whistles, TFC’s admin console had a text box to input a date and a big red “GO” button.

He looked mournfully at his ender chest, and, with a sigh, keyed in a date one week prior.

And TFC jabbed his thumb on the big red button.

The world flashed white, utterly blinding him, and a second later TFC was deep in the branch mine in a half-finished tunnel, the same spot he’d been exactly a week prior.

Unfortunately, he was still in a comfortable sitting position, resting all his weight on a chair that suddenly wasn’t there, so he immediately toppled to the ground, landing on his ass in an undignified heap.

“Ow.” TFC muttered, sitting up slowly and tapping through his messages.

<Xisuma> oh, we rolled back. Is everyone alright!?

<Tango> Mumbo you are BANNED FROM TIME TRAVEL

<MumboJumbo> It wasn’t me this time! I mean it was. But blame Zedaph!

<Zedaph> ME?! No! Blame Cub! Cub gave me the doodad!

TFC rolled his eyes and typed out a message.

<Tinfoilchef> Does anyone have any fresh coffee beans?

Silence.

No messages. No new complaining. As all the hermits re-read TFC’s words and soaked them in.

Finally, Cleo broke the silence.

<Zombiecleo> TFC. How many times did you re-use your last filter of grounds.

<TinfoilChef> eh, six? Seven?

<Zombiecleo> are you telling me we’d all still be in shuttlecock hell if you hadn’t gotten sick of the taste of reused coffee grinds?!

<TinfoilChef> Pretty much, yeah

<TinfoilChef> anyway

<TinfoilChef> does anyone have some fresh coffee?

#magnetar writes #Hermitcraft fic #TFC fic

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nghtmrsndydrms · 20 days

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If anyone has an epub copy of this fic...

pleaseeee I'm begging 😭😭😭

#andreil #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #aftg fic #tfc fic

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alcego · 9 months

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THE SEAGULL. HE IS SMOKING

rated T for teens Kandreil 5.9k

Andrew is a line cook. he is also being bullied by a seagull

✨ read it here ✨

#all for the game #aftg fic #tfc fic #kandreil #andrew minyard #kevin day #neil josten #aj writes stuff #aftg

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emmerrr · 23 days

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Smoke on the Water

“You realise this isn’t an offer everyone gets.” Agent Browning stares Neil down, not even phrasing it like a question. Neil badly wants to scoff, but manages not to. “Doesn’t really seem like an offer at all,” he deadpans. “On the contrary, Nathaniel, it’s very generous.” Neil feels his eye twitch at the casual use of his real name; the suits have been relentless about using it ever since Neil turned himself in following his mother’s death. His reckless, foolish hope had been that he could leverage everything he knew for a new identity and the chance at a real life. And a new identity he now has, but it hasn’t come without caveats. He shakes his head. “I’m not one of your agents. I’m not trained for this shit. They’ll suss me out immediately.” It’s Browning’s turn to shake his head. “You managed to elude capture by both your father’s people and federal agents for ten years.” “I was with my mother,” Neil points out, but then he has to pause to collect himself. If he thinks about her for too long, he’ll break. He feels like he can still smell the burning in the air; he can hear the sound of her blood-soaked clothes ripping from the car seat as he tried to move her. He can still see the light leaving her eyes. He clears his throat. “I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t the mastermind.” “That’s fair,” Browning allows, “but an accomplished liar, you most certainly are. I have no doubt your mother taught you everything she knew.” “She never would have wanted me to turn myself in, so I guess I never learned a goddamn thing.” “Or maybe you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.” A pained look crosses Browning’s face at having to admit this and Neil almost smiles. “Aw, I didn’t know you thought so highly of me, Browning.” “That’s Agent Browning to you,” Browning snaps, but then visibly collects himself. “So, Nathaniel—” “It’s Neil, now,” Neil interrupts. Browning sighs. “Neil. Do we have a deal?” Neil leans his forearms on the table. He’s exhausted after the last few days of interrogation and all he wants to do is sleep. A stack of paper sits near his elbow, within which Neil has written down everything he can remember from ten years on the run, as well as everything he knows about his father’s criminal dealings. No doubt he’s also been recorded as well, so his testimony is available in several formats. He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. “Do I really have a choice?” “Sure you do.” Browning smiles thinly. “It’s this, or it’s fifteen to twenty years in federal prison.” His father’s people are in prisons up and down the country. Wherever they put Neil will be within reach of the Butcher’s men. So really, it’s this, or death. Neil’s not ready to die yet. “You’ve got yourself a deal, asshole.”

Chapter 1 of ?

A Point Break AU, of sorts

[locked fic, but i have some invitiations if anyone wants one!]

#aftg #andreil #tfc #tfc fic #the foxhole court

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hemmicknicky · 3 months

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i come back to tfc and the first thing i do is write smut

coming up for air (rated e, 2k)

“Abram.” His tone turns demanding. Vagueness is only allowed for so long. “I want to suck you off.” It wouldn’t be the first time if Andrew said yes but Neil can count the times on one hand, and maybe an empty parking lot this late at night isn’t the safest setting. Andrew’s action speaks for themselves, though. He strokes the side of Neil’s face and grabs his chin to bring their faces together, only to tease at a kiss Neil falls for easily. “How long have you been thinking about it?”

#all for the game #the foxhole court #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #tfc #aftg #aftg fic #tfc fanfic #aftg fanfic #tfc fic

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thejostenator · 12 days

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As well as Golden Boy Orange’s long-awaited seventh chapter (I am still doing that, I promise you guys, we’ll get there slowly), I have a new fic I’ve been scheming up for a while!

What if Neil left Millport just before Wymack and the foxes could get to him? What if he knew Hernandez was planning something, packed his duffel up and ran?

What would Andrew do about the one that got away?

And, in Chapter One, you get to see exactly who Neil very quickly bumps into, and also fails to recognise (and its not who you’re thinking :D)

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stick-ball · 1 month

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Hi posted my first fic! It's a tiny one shot of a thing about Jean leaving the Nest. Enjoy!

#jean moreau #jean moreau fic #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #the sunshine court #jean moreau hc #renee walker #jeanee #aftg fic #tfc fic #tsc fic

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juicegremlin · 2 years

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Hugs (5+1)

~ +1 ~

The dorm smells like cinnamon when Neil gets home. He shuts the door behind him—slowly, so as not to interrupt whatever music Andrew’s got playing—and sets his bag down on the couch.

“Oh simple thing, where have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.”

Andrew is at the stove. He’s mixing something, fork in one hand, bowl in the other. There’s flour on the counter along with a couple of open Pillsbury dough cans.

“So tell me when you're gonna let me in. I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin.”

Neil makes his way further into the living room. Andrew doesn’t turn to look at him, but there’s a tilt of the head, a shift in weight. A greeting—though, hardly much of one.

Neil adores Andrew like this—sleep-mussed and bandless, comfortable in the sanctity of his own space. Neil’s gaze catches on the rhythmic movements of his wrist, the luminous spill of white-gold light across the bridge of his nose.

It’s moments like these that make Neil wonder what life could be like if they make it to thirty. Pajamas in the kitchen, coming home to each other. Snapshots of a future Neil would kill to make real.

Andrew looks over a shoulder. The wispy shadows of his eyelashes fall in brittle streaks across his cheekbones.

Maybe it’s already real.

“Try,” Andrew says, holding out the fork in his hand.

Neil crosses to the counter and lifts himself up onto it, avoiding the flour-patch. “What is it?”

“Icing.”

Andrew fits into the space between Neil’s knees. He lifts the fork to Neil’s lips, and it’s too sweet—the icing—but Andrew will like it.

“You made cinnamon rolls last week,” Neil observes.

Andrew puts the fork back into the bowl. “I wasn’t aware there was a refractory period for baked goods.”

“Refractory period,” Neil wrinkles his nose.

Andrew turns back to the stove. Neil takes a moment to appreciate the bare backs of his legs, the strain of his Achilles tendons.

And perhaps there was a time when Neil didn’t find him quite so captivating. Before all the promises—the secrets and cigarettes. Back when Neil saw the world in a categorical absence of color.

He doesn’t know when things changed. If he had Andrew’s perfect memory, he might be able to pinpoint the exact moment—but for now, the best Neil has got is that bus ride home his freshman year, when the sun turned Andrew golden for the first time.

The song changes. Neil feels a little senseless.

He says, “Dance with me.”

Andrew adds more powdered sugar to the mix. “Hit your head on the way home?”

“I want you to dance with me. Yes or no?”

Andrew sets the bowl down. He looks at Neil like he’s grown a third head.

“You don’t know how,” Andrew says.

“Show me.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Let’s make something up.”

Andrew blinks once, twice. He’s a flickering breadth of candlelight, a myriad of cogs turning beneath bones and skin.

It takes a whole minute for him to extend a hand.

“Yes.”

Neil allows himself to be pulled off the counter. He crosses his wrists behind Andrew’s neck, drawing him close enough to share breath. Andrew’s calloused hands find a home on the dip of Neil’s waist.

“But someone, they could have warned you.”

They’re swaying. It’s the best they can do for each other. Neil has never been to so much as a school dance, and he can’t imagine that Andrew has, either.

“When things start splitting at the seams and now the whole thing’s tumbling down.”

There’s a spot of icing on Andrew’s chin. Neil wants to kiss it off—could, very easily—but he doesn’t, because then they would be kissing, and Neil can’t bear to break this eye contact.

“It’s tumbling down, hard.”

“There’s a zit on your nose,” Andrew tells him.

Neil raises an eyebrow. “It’s hardly the worst thing on my face.”

“You’re right. It’s that mouth.”

“You like it.”

“One of these days, I am going to staple it shut.”

“And anything to make you smile. You are the ever-living ghost of what once was.”

Neil drags his thumb over the skin of Andrew’s nape. He feels Andrew tighten his hold in response, a bracket that expands and contracts with every breach of Neil’s lungs.

He thinks he understands why people do this. Dancing isn’t talking, isn’t sex. Not the way they’re doing things, at least. It’s existing together without the give and take.

“I never want to hear you say that you’d be better off.”

The timer on the stove sounds. Andrew stops their swaying but permits the noise for a while, holding Neil’s gaze like something that might wriggle out of his grasp if he loosens it.

Then his hands disappear. He turns, shuts off the timer.

Neil mourns the loss of him.

“And no one is ever gonna love you more than I do.”

Andrew takes the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. He turns off the heat, and then he’s back, hands on Neil’s waist.

There’s a question in Andrew’s eyes. Neil nods, feels something earthly uncoil behind his ribs.

Andrew wraps his arms around Neil’s middle. He draws them close, chest to chest, and Neil gets to be there when Andrew goes golden all over again.

Andrew tucks his face into the hollow of Neil’s neck.

“No one’s ever gonna love you more than I do.”

“What’s this for?” Neil whispers.

Andrew says, “Nothing.”

And Neil understands.

-

The thrilling conclusion!! All 6 parts posted over on Ao3 if you’re interested. Songs referenced in this part are “Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane and “No One’s Gonna Love You” by Band of Horses.

Thank you all so much for the love and support on this series!! <333

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

#aftg #aftg fic #aftg fanfic #aftg fanfiction #all for the game #andreil #andrew minyard #andrew x neil #andrew minyard x neil josten #neil josten #neil josten x andrew minyard #JuiceGremlin #tfc #the foxhole court #tfc fic #the foxhole court fanfiction

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murahel · 7 months

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Me editing the tfc fix-it alive!Soundwave: *squinting* you haven't Suffered Enough.

#tfc posts #fics posts #tfc fic #tfc #transformers fanfiction #soundwave #transformers cyberverse #shadow striker #laserbeak #hot rod #optimus prime #megatron #autobots #decepticons #windblade #grimlock #bumblebee

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sepulchralblues · 9 months

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I Loved In Shades of Wrong ~ Chapter 4

“You—Andrew who knows what could have happened? What if he had reported you

“Considering he was there to steal the daggers as well? That doesn’t seem like it would look too good on a police report, does it?”

“You could at least try to take this a little more seriously,” Aaron snapped. “This is your career we’re talking about. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life in prison, Andrew.”

A little frisson of something warm bubbled in Andrew's chest.

“Aaron,” he said with enough conviction in his voice that he almost believed himself, almost believed this wasn’t an awful idea. “I am fine.”

“Yeah, and you better fucking stay fine or I’ll hunt your puny ass down myself.”

The corner of Andrew's mouth twitched. “Don’t you have a shift starting soon?”

Read Chapter 4 here!

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #the foxhole court #my writing #aftg fic #tfc fic #aftg fanfic #tfc fanfic #bamf Neil Josten #bamf Andrew Minyard #bamf andreil #au #I loved in shades of wrong

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mawofthemagnetar · 25 days

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Chapter twenty-one is up!

TFC and Grian are in serious trouble…

Enjoy…

#magnetar writes #hermitfic #grian fic #tfc fic

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splishsplashyouropinionistrash · 9 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick & Andrew Minyard Characters: Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten, Aaron Minyard, Nicky Hemmick Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Unhappy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Implied/Referenced Suicide, i am. so soRRY, voicemails to dead people, neil is dead in this one, again: sorry, Character Death, So much angst, it's been too long since i wrote an MCD so here you go, Heavy Angst, I'm not joking about the angst, shit is HEAVY you have been warned, baltimore goes wrong, no beta we die like andriel in this one Summary:

"I could have protected you. I should have protected you. Why didn't you let me protect you?" ... Or, Neil dies in Baltimore. Andrew tries to cope.

#tfc #the foxhole court #aftg #all for the game #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #aftg fic #aftg fanfic #tfc fic #tfc fanfic #splishsplash writes

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emmerrr · 9 months

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the last time i posted a snippet of this fic it got slightly more traction than i thought it would so here’s another:

“Again.”

Allison put her hands on her knees and held up a finger in the universal signal to wait, trying to get her breath back.

“This isn’t break-time. Again.”

She held up a different finger, and was then briefly gratified by the half-offended, half-frustrated scoff Kevin gave in response.

Taking this reprieve, Allison glanced down the opposite end of the court, to where Andrew stood in goal, Neil taking penalty shots. So far he hadn’t scored a single one, but he looked bright and focused, clearly enjoying himself. Andrew, for his part, was actually making an effort, something he always tended to do when Neil was involved.

“No,” Kevin snapped, grabbing her attention back. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

She glared. Kevin stood with his racquet across his shoulders, as haughty and handsome as always, barely breaking a sweat after almost an hour of running drills, and his expression giving out I’m better than you and I know it vibes. Allison just about resisted the urge to kick him in the shin. “I am looking at you. Everyone’s always looking at you.”

“Allison.” Her name itself felt like a full sentence coming from him. “You’re the one who asked for my help, but I don’t like wasting my time.” He tilted his head, arrogance seeping off him in a way that made her want to drop him to the ground. “Am I wasting my time?”

Her breath somewhat recovered and her rage simmering over, Allison drew herself to her full height. She scooped up the nearest Exy ball with her racquet, and with a neat flick of her wrist, sent the ball directly into one of the buckets Kevin had set up in their half of the court.

“Again,” she said.

#aftg #kevin day #allison reynolds #tfc #kevin/allison #tfc fic

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ghost-in-the-stalls · 9 months

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/30678650/chapters/122374045

✌️👍

#aftg #aftg fic #the foxhole court #tfc #tfc fic #andreil #andreil fic #dwetn #my writing

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phantaloon · 2 years

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hi i did a thing instead of studying and forgot to share yesterday :)

Relationship: Kevin Day/Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard

Characters: Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten, Kevin Day, Abby Winfield, David Wymack, Aaron Minyard

Additional tags: Sickfic, Light Angst, Post Canon, Sick Neil Josten

Summary:

“Something wrong?”

Wymack looked up from the files on his desk, and his expression was calm enough that Neil felt himself relax, “Not really, Abby just told me she wanted to take a couple of tests again, something about a blood test being inconclusive or something, she told me to tell you when you got here.”

“Oh, alright. Is that it?”

“Yeah, now go bother her.”

---

Another sick fic because I can't get enough of those

#aftg #aftg fic #tfc fic #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #the raven king #tkm #the king's men #trk #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #kandreil #my writing

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