In their second year a deal is made. Andrew wants to explore his boundaries and there’s really just one person he trusts around himself. Set in a universe where everything is the same except that Andrew never kissed Neil on the rooftop that night. Instead, they just got closer and more comfortable around each other.

„Darling?“ Andrew calls, still out of sight, and that gets Neil’s attention. Except for some very rare, very soft moments Andrew only uses pet names to be sarcastic. „Yes love?“ Neil retaliates in the same, slightly mocking tone. Andrew comes into sight, with an unusual mischievous glint in his eyes. „How much do you think you can horrify a whole bunch of conservative homophobes?“ or: What is a professional actor as a fiancé good for, if you can't terrorize your distant (and close) relatives with him?

Despite his best efforts, Andrew finds himself a family.

The dorm has since acquired the presence of one Andrew Minyard, who appears to be keeping himself cool by working his way through a pint of ice cream. Without even turning his head, Andrew comments, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you put gas in that car” “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you put ice cream in that freezer, but somehow you’re still eating it” Pointedly, Neil makes his way over to the kitchen and unloads the handful of cartons he’d picked up on the way home. Andrew doesn’t dignify this with a response, and Neil gets lost in the ice cold air of the freezer for a few moments too long before he realises the tell tale scraping of a spoon against plastic has stopped. When he turns, Andrew is watching him with a completely blank expression. In Andrew-speak, this tended to mean he was trying especially hard to conceal whatever was going on behind it. Neil raises a brow in question. “Those are…shorts” Andrew says, and Neil sees it when Andrew hears his own words back, watches the imperceptible tightening of his jaw and the twitch of his brows. “Yes,” and Neil is trying very hard not to look happy about it, “they’re new”

all hail the raven king @onetwopunch Counting down the hours til Kevin Day returns to the coup #cawcawmothafuckers wifey @fckevinday looks like someone is still holding out for the impossible @onetwopunch all hail the raven king @onetwopunch @fckevinday I’m being a realist, Kevin ditching the Ravens for the PU Foxes was a mistake _____ The Foxes and Ravens play in the NCAA Exy Championships. The Internet reacts.

Neil needs a ride home. Matt isn't answering his texts. Wrong Number AU

Neil tries to get away from a boring conversation and accidentally ends up asking the most popular guy in school to dance with him at the winter formal.

“Andrew doesn't love me,” Neil said simply, “So if he has a love language, I don't know it.” “Oh, honey.” Allison drawled, “You don't actually believe him when he says he hates you, do you?”

The third time Nicky asks him about it, he says, “I am already dating someone.” This is a lie. Nicky’s face unfurls like a clearing sky, eyes widening and jaw dropping. “You don’t say! Who is it?” Andrew’s mind flies in a thousand different ways, grasping for an answer, a diversion, another lie. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses Neil walking out of the locker room, hair damp and bag slung over his shoulder. “Neil,” Andrew tells Nicky, and Nicky gawps, shocked and famished for more information. “I am dating Neil,” Andrew says. (or: in which Andrew and Neil - due to purely rational, strategical, and beneficial reasons - convince everybody that they are dating)

A group of amateur thieves kidnap a senator’s son to ransom him for money. The senator’s son doesn’t want to go back. * “Are these padded cuffs?” Neil asked, his voice raspy, his throat dry. He tugged on his wrists and winced when they chafed against his recent wounds from Lola. “They’re Nicky’s,” someone answered him—a woman. “Fox Seven! Use the code names!” “Sorry. I’ve never kidnapped someone and ransomed them for money before.” “I’ve been kidnapped?” Neil asked. “What did you think was happening?”

“Is there a reason you don’t like Neil?” Bee asks him then and Aaron doesn’t understand how the fuck they got onto this when she’s supposed to be fixing him and Andrew. “I don’t trust him,” he says eventually. “All he’s done since he’s got here is cause trouble.” “Well, a lot of that was out of Neil’s control,” Betsy reminds him evenly. “That doesn’t suddenly make him a good person.” “Watch him then.” Aaron startles so much at Andrew’s voice he twists in his chair to stare at him. Andrew hasn’t addressed him directly all day but he’s looking at Aaron now. “You think he’s using me or trying to fuck me over or whatever’s going on in your head- watch him. Watch us for the next week. Stop averting your gaze and pretending it doesn’t exist and then I might listen to what you have to say.”

Neil works three low paying, dead-end jobs and makes just enough money to afford a room to sleep in and to keep himself from starving. He has no prospects, no hope, no future. That all changes when a chance encounter results in a job offer that he can't ignore. The job? Pretending to be professional exy player Andrew Minyard's boyfriend.

Neil Josten stares at the large building in front of him, his mouth twisted into a small frown. Yesterday, Browning had handed him a manila folder containing his new name, his new life. Included in that file had been a note, the same slightly crumpled note he’s holding in his hand now, with the name of his new employer. Foxhole Aquarium. Ask for David Wymack.

Andrew and Neil switching phones by accident brings them closer together than either of them anticipated.

Neil Josten jerked awake, his cigarette falling from his fingers as he did. The frigid air bit at his arms, his neck, his face, but he didn't notice, too busy looking around. "What the fuck." or Neil and Andrew wake up back in Millport, and get the chance to start over.

“I bet the monster will come alone again this year,” he says, his voice scratchy like the sound of a blender in the early hours of the morning. Aaron stiffens beside his brother, shoulders creeping up to his ears before he opens his eyes. He turns to Seth with a sneer. In seconds, Aaron had gone from asleep to fully awake, an anger simmering under the surface of his skin, water boiling over. “I’ll take that bet,” Aaron says, face a blank slate, anger cooling behind his eyes. If this were still college, Aaron would’ve let anger take over, let fists fly. With age, Aaron had learned that there are crueler things than violence. “Five hundred bucks,” Seth replies, eyes sparkling in amusement. He’s got the face of someone who thinks they’ve won. “A thousand,” Aaron counters. Andrew’s eyebrow twitches up imperceptibly, a feeling like a laugh bubbling up his throat. __ In which Neil and Andrew are secretly married.

Jean sleeps around and learns how to make friends rather than alliances. Jeremy falls in love and can't stop fucking up.

“Now you get to help me stall them since you almost blew my cover.” Keith shifts in his lap and Shiro’s fingers tighten on his hips. “We gotta act like we’re into public shit. They’re gonna leave otherwise.” Shiro freezes where he’d been mouthing at Keith’s bare shoulder. “I’m serious, Shiro, don’t blow this fucking mission,” Keith hisses. “We’ll deal with this later.”

It's always Andrew's goal to stretch Neil's pleasure to its limits, and he's barely begun to scratch the surface.

Back inside the Maserati, high off life and the music that is Andrew’s laugh, Neil says, “I want to blow you.” The only visible reaction is the way Andrew's pale fingers become even more so as they grip the steering wheel tighter. The open book expressions of most people are found in Andrew between the lines of his eyebrows and the grip of his fists. “Yes or no?” The wooded back roads of South Carolina speed past in the driver’s window beyond Andrew’s profile. Neil can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. A deep breath. "Yes."

“If you’re really sure,” he starts, and Neil nods along. “I could do it.” “Uh,” Neil says, and suddenly his thin sweats and shirt feel far too hot. “What?” “If you want,” Andrew says, looking Neil straight in the eyes, determination burning Neil up inside. “I could help.” “You would—,” Neil says and Andrew doesn’t even wait for him to finish before nodding. “Why?” “You don’t want your first time to be with some frat boy. Trust me, you don’t,” Andrew says. “If you decide sex isn’t for you, you don’t want that to be your only experience. You need someone who’s good.” Neil swallows heavily. “And that’s… you?”

Neil is a bound witch on the run, making a choice between fleeing, slavery, and death. To Andrew, he looks like a useful weapon - at first. It turns out that ‘useful’ isn’t all he is.

There’s no such thing as perfect compatibility when it comes to sex. Andrew figures Neil is probably the best he’s ever going to get.

Life might have made Andrea a dangerous girl, but Mommy made her a killer.

The Foxes take on an injured Kevin Day, and get a Raven-trained backliner with a point to prove into the bargain.

Eve was not the best person in the world. Sometimes she didn’t hold the elevator open when she saw people rushing to catch it from the other side of the lobby. Cutting the line at Starbucks was a semi-regular action. But Eve did not deserve to be Neil fucking Josten's publicist. ********** Or, the one where Neil does what he wants, picks fights with reporters, discovers Twitter, breaks the internet, and really shouldn't be allowed out of his house. Andrew does nothing to discourage him.

Jean doesn't have his soulmark anymore.

"You paid for the deluxe package," Neil says as he scrolls through his payment history to find his client's invoice. His system is simple: Basic Package: Fuck you. A general statement of displeasure and a brief description of the wrongdoing. Intermediate Package: Fuck you, with passion. Everything in the basic package, but with additional insults. Customizable for an extra fee. Deluxe Package: Fuck you to hell. Everything from the first two packages, for an extended period of time, and with extra viciousness. And it looks like Andrew Minyard is the unlucky soul today.

After years of fighting for his own independence, Jean can't stand to watch other people around him be steamrolled. It especially bothers him when it comes to Jeremy, his overly upbeat regular. Jeremy’s date doesn’t seem to notice the way Jeremy stills, and Jean can already see where this is going. Jeremy has been coming to the cafe ever since Jean started working there, and while at first he was just another customer, once this trend of copious (awful) dates became apparent... It was hard to ignore him.

Sin settles later than most. It’s not until Mary dies that she finally does settle. Neil looks away from the car, dazzled by firelight and the sense memory of her daemon breaking apart, and finds silvery speckled fur with jet-black points and reddish eyes the same colour as Nathaniel Wesninski’s hair. Just like that, he knows she won’t shift again.

Neil is a Vixen, not a Fox. He and Andrew still find each other.

After being photographed together, Neil and Andrew decide to roll with the rumors that they're dating.

Hizashi is spiralling; his hero career is on the brink of collapse, no radio station will give him a shot and he isn’t sure how much more he can take. When people start turning up beaten half to death, they lead him to an underground quirk fighting ring. Could it be the big break he needs to save his career or will the mysterious Referee show him something better?

“𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛! 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦’𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚! ;)”

Whenever Soap messes up on a mission he needs to repent, he needs to be punished. It’s been like that ever since he started Military. He’s made a habit out of finding himself the biggest, meanest Doms he can find, so when he meets Ghost he thinks he’s hit the jackpot. Little does he know that Ghost is the softest Dom — a pleasure Dom at that — so when something inevitably goes wrong and Soap begs for a punishment, for a hard, degrading fuck, he’s only met with softness.

“Geralt, it’s not what it looks like.” “Really?” he asked. He clenched his jaw before offering a sharp, mirthless smile. “Because it looks like you got caught fucking the mayor’s wife, and now I’m not getting paid!” “Well,” he laughed nervously, looking anywhere but up. “When you put it that way.” In which Jaskier suggests a chastity device to prove himself a worthy travel companion, and of course, gives Geralt the key.

The best thing about the SEP, if you had to ask Gabriel, was the fact that it not only boosted his aptitude for combat and made him an even better soldier than he was before, but it also brought Jack Morrison into his life. While he wouldn't say he had a fetish for catfolk specifically, the fact that the SEP also worked wonders on enhancing the cat-like qualities of their catfolk soldiers wasn't exactly something that helped Gabriel's fascination with his roommate’s (who later became his lover-then-husband) nature either.

“So--what’ya say? Make a deal with me?” “Only fools deal with dragons lightly.” “Guess I’m a fool.”

In which Joseph is weak-willed for a man of God, Craig is unintentionally (but totally intentionally) a tease, and Mary is just supportive of these two idiots.

Jack Morrison is a patient man. He can’t afford to be anything less, not in his line of work. War is a lot of brutal moments of adrenaline followed up by a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. He’s honed patience since he was a kid, sharpening it to a skill he finds useful the more power he has given to him. However.

Garp is old and wondering if this is how the bloodline will end when he gets a call from his quite frankly horrified sounding son. They talk. or. "The Monkey D Family is an odd phenomenon because nobody knows how they reproduce a child" said moonelnone on tumblr, "#they just disappear for awhile and they suddenly have a child" moonelnone also said (

Craig needs to loosen the fuck up and damn if Robert isn't the King of Relaxation. How he does it might be a little...unorthodox, but really, who's gonna judge them all the way out here?

“All right,” Ned Stark says. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. No one was supposed to, but I guess it’s my own damned fault for not keeping it to myself. Now, I know that if I told you to forget this you’d try, but I remember – I remember how it was when I was your age, myself. Boys of seven can forget that kind of promise easily, if they don’t know why they’re making it.” He takes in another breath. “Robb,” he says, his voice dropping so low it’s barely audible, “do you love your brother?” Or: in which Robb knows about Jon's true heritage all along.

in which Ned doesn't die but wargs into one pigeon instead. Incidentally, it doesn't stop him from preventing a war and saving both his family and the entirety of Westeros.

in which Tommen discovers a new favorite band, Tyrion pays Jaime a favor, Jaime gets to reconnect with at least one of his children, Brienne is a responsible adult who might want to act up on a few fantasies, Loras and Renly are pro enablers and everyone is down with some healthy dismissal of gender roles.

The maddening thing is: Jaskier is almost sure that Yennefer knows, except that he can’t be too sure that she does, except that all evidence points in that direction, except that outright asking her is completely out of the fucking question, except that whenever she talks to him lately she has that glint in her eyes that promises nothing good, except that - Yeah, except that he could ask, but he has a feeling that going to your best friend’s slash boss’s slash former-idol-of-his-teenage-years-that-he’s-had-more-than-a-crush-on-for-years girlfriend and ask her straight hey, by the way, I have a feeling that you know that I write fanfic about the two of you in my spare time and for that matter I’m actually good enough at it that I have a thousand Ao3 subscriptions, and everyone wonders how my characterization is this good is… not… really a good idea. Or: in which Jaskier, as Geralt's social media manager, has resuscitated the man's career and landed him a girlfriend, so what if he incidentally also writes RPF for the both of them on the side? That is, until they invite him to join them.

Fuck, what has he done until now? Told Geralt… nice things because he thought that he’d like to hear them and was proved right about it, on top of it? One day he’ll have a long chat with Geralt about how much his previous partners had no taste. Right now, though — “What,” he asks, moving closer, “that you’re lovely?” Geralt… doesn’t flinch, not exactly, but a few more tears fall down, and — “You don’t have to lie if —” “I’m not,” Jaskier interrupts him at once, letting his hands go to grasp his face, pressing their lips together to try and start making his point. “Fuck, you are lovely, other than drop-dead handsome, but then again I haven’t been staring at you like that for months for nothing.” Or: in which it turns out Geralt does have a praise kink that hits him harder than he'd thought. Jaskier is more than glad to indulge in it.

“Excuse me,” Tywin Lannister grits through his teeth, “my son is doing what?” Stannis tries to not sigh loudly. It would not do in front of the Hand of the King. “You have the raven, my lord. He says he wishes to resign from the Kingsguard as he has not been here for a full year and does not plan to come back, and that he’s perfectly happy roaming the Stormlands and the Trident along with the last Evenstar.” “The last Evenstar.” “Yes.” “The abomination.” Stannis shrugs. “Technically she is one, but I can assure my lord Hand that she is actually quite competent to discuss with.” He’d know. She had better ideas for actually helping the commoners than most of his advisors. He wishes he could make her one. “Competent. She’s an abomination.” “She’s a useful one,” he shrugs. “Also, your son does not seem to agree.” Or: in which Jaime goes to Tarth to slay a supposed monster terrorizing the Stormlands to do something honorable with his life. It doesn't go like that at all.

“I am really dreaming, then,” he croaks, wishing his lungs didn’t feel like they were about to crack into a thousand shards. “Oh, but you’re not,” Robb says, his hand going to Theon’s cheek, as rough and warm as he remembers it, and he can’t – oh, surely he must be dreaming and whatever gods exist hate him because it can’t be true, it can’t be real – “But I am,” Robb nods. “Real, I mean.” “You can’t be.” “You tried to kill the Night King with arrows,” Robb smiles, “you completely crazy idiot, and you think that there’s much that can’t be real, around here? Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” “You won’t be waiting for me in one of the Seven Hells, Robb,” he croaks. “No,” Robb says, “because that’s not where you’re going. Rest.” Or: in which Theon doesn't die and Robb doesn't stay dead either.