I think I have another prompt. It's Andreil. But the prompt is maybe Andrew/Neil are told to get social media accounts (when they go pro) to help their image/interact with their fans (they dont) so they get instagrams. Andrew claims to hate it so much but within a week 90% of his IG is filled with various pics of Neil that Neil didn't even notice him taking. Nothing to risqué fluffffffffyyyy
Yep, that’s super cute <3 love it.
Alright, listen up, I still take AFTG prompts, but I might be a little slower replying to them, and it’s possible that I don’t get around to doing all of them.
However, please still send me prompts!! I LOVE hearing your ideas! <3
“This is bullshit.”
Andrew scrunche up his nose as he is glaring down at his phone.
Neil watches over his shoulder as he tries to install and understand instagram, interested and a little bewildered. “Can you do mine too when you’re done?”
“Fuck no, do your own.”, Andrew replies grumpily. “This is bullshit.”, he repeats and tosses his phone halfway over the kitchen table when he is done. “Unnecessary.”
“Think of the money.”, Neil lightly replies and picked Andrew’s phone up before it falls off the edge of the table. “…and this is better than facebook. All you do is post a picture of your racket or your lunch or the cats once a week.” Neil isn’t a huge fan of this either, but their management insisted, and he is trying to help Andrew here.
Andrew, instead of replying, grumbles into his marshmellow fluff and strawberry topped toast.
Andrew hates it, he really does. He never stops telling Neil, either. “I fucking hate this.”, he says after snapping a picture of their morning protein smoothies. He titles it “I’d rather have chocolate milk” and puts exactly one hashtag: #bullshit. The post blows up within minutes, and people are starting to ask for the recipe (”It’s literally all the leftover fruit we had in the fridge, Neil. Why are people so fucking stupid. It’s not like there’s Kevin’s piss in there or something. Instagram’s bullshit.”).
Neil just nods and let him ramble.
It goes on like that for a little while. Neil slowly gets better at instagram, posting cat pictures, candid photos of friends and teammates, sometimes his food or even occasional selfies.
They stop talking about instagram after a while. Until one day, Neil is stuck in traffic for literally three hours and bored out of his mind. He doesn’t feel social, so he can’t call anyone, he has no food with him, so eating isn’t an option to kill time. So he decides to check instagram for once, really check it, not just look at his follower count or reply to a comment because his management tells him to.
The only people Neil is subscribed to are exy players. The foxes, his new team and acquintances (like Jeremy Knox).
He scrolls, looking at the pictures and occasionally liking one.
Allison posts a photo of her on Hawaii, drink in hand.
Matt has posted one of Dan, her baby belly wide and covered by a shirt that says “Exy Baby”. Neil likes that one.
He scrolls on, and then almost has a heart attack: a picture of him, taken from behind, as the sun falls through the window of their team bus, making his hair shine copper. It’s from Andrew’s account and it’s titled with “Gingers have no soul”.
Neil is speechless for a moment, and then clicks on Andrew’s page so he can see all of his photos.
None of the pictures show his face, but it’s clear that each one, apart from maybe four or five, are showing him.
Neil on the couch, asleep, King curled into a ball on his chest (”Wake the fuck up, sleeping beauty.” #yousnore)
Neil on their balcony, leaning backwards over the railing, staring into the evening sky (#sap).
Neil, again from behind, in the kitchen, cats sitting at his feet and waiting for tuna (#beggarscan’tbechoosers #spoiled).
Neil, wrapped in blankets like a burrito, only a mop of auburn hair peeking out (#hopeyousuffocate).
The comments on the last one are wild and extensive. People are going crazy over the fact that they apparently share a bed. Exy is low-key known for being the “big gay sport”, but still people seem to be in awe that Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten are a couple.
Neil grins down at his phone. “…bullshit.”, he mumbles to himself, and closes the app.