andrew gaze

anonymous asked:

34 for andreil?? (No rush of course 😊💖💖)

34. “The way you flirt is shameful.” (sorry this took two weeks ahhajkha)

“Can you hold this for me?”

Andrew stares contemptuously at Neil’s outstretched hand, annoyed but hardly surprised to find nothing in it. 

“Josten… that’s just your hand,” Andrew says, slowly as if to make it easier for Neil to understand.

“Astute observation.”

Andrew chooses to ignore the comment for Neil’s benefit.

“Are you asking me to hold your hand?” he says after a pregnant pause.

“And if I am?” Neil challenges, holding Andrew’s skeptical gaze. 

He never gets the chance to reply because, just then, Kevin bounds into their room, muttering about freshman shirking practice and Aaron’s lack of motivation. Andrew tries his best to ignore what just happened. 

The next day, it escalates. 

They’re on their way to the Court when Neil looks up from his phone, his attention snapping towards a recklessly driving Andrew. 

“Hey Andrew, are you words on a page?” Neil asks. 

“Why the fuc-” 

“Because you’re fine print.”

There’s approximately five seconds of silence out of pure shock before Nicky, in the backseat with Aaron, starts coughing violently in between fits of laughter. Aaron, for once, has nothing to say besides a resentful ‘let this car crash’ glare at no one in particular. 

“Jesus Christ, Neil, what the fuck!” Nicky chokes out, hand clutching his side as he gasps for air. Aaron continues to stare blankly into the abyss. 

But Neil is still watching Andrew for his reaction, none too surprised to find the absence of one. Andrew keeps his eyes on the road, not even sparing a glance at Neil to acknowledge him or his pick-up line. 

Yet, it continues. 

N: “Are you a magnet?”

A: “….”

N: “Because I’m attracted to you.”

Matt: “Neil, that only works for metal…”

N: “Are you google?”

A: “Neil.”

N: “Because you’re the answer to everything I need.”

Nicky: “Do you even know what google is?”

N: “…” [ nervous laughter ]

Until, two weeks after its began, Andrew breaks. 

Pressed against the locker room shower after yet another terrible (”Do you play exy?” “Sadly.” “Because you’re a keeper.”) pick-up line, Andrew finally gives up.

“Why. The. Fuck. Do. You. Keep. Saying. Those?”

“Saying what?” Neil replies with all the faux innocence of a man walking out of a brothel. 

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

Andrew huffs uncharacteristically, hands still gripping the front of Neil’s t-shirt. Neil looks down at Andrew’s hands before grinning devilishly up at the goalkeeper. 

“Hey Andrew-”

“Oh no.”

“-wanna know what my shirt is made out of?”

Andrew all but jogs out of the locker room, but still hears the echo of ‘boyfriend material’ follow him onto the court. 

  • dan: it's kind of cold
  • matt: well here take my jacket
  • neil: *sidelong glance at andrew*
  • andrew: *ignores neil and looks straight ahead*
  • neil: *shivers*
  • andrew: *takes off jacket and throws it at neil's head* put it on before you catch a cold idiot

Turns out the marker idea was a good one.  It’s not until over a year into the relationship that they do it and it’s not even planned.

They’re signing things, memorabilia and shirts, and when Neil is finally done, he sits back on the couch and stretches.  Andrew stretches too, but since he puts less effort into his signatures and is already done, it’s just to turn and flop his feet onto Neil’s lap.

Without thinking, Neil uncaps his marker and draws a star on the top of Andrew’s foot.  He caps the marker and sits back again but then Andrew wiggles his foot.  At his prompting, Neil uncaps the marker again, drawing this time a heart.  He looks up to find Andrew gazing at him and, on a hunch, Neil pushes up a pant leg, slowly reaching down to draw.

Keep reading

It has been five whole minutes since Andrew locked gazes with the feline brat sitting on top of the coffee table before him. Neither of them moved aside from the cat’s gentle swaying of its tail. 

An ear twitched, but Andrew remained still, watching the cat as if daring it to do something.

It mewled.

That was the first sound King Fluffykins had made in those five minutes of constant staring, and Andrew still did not know what the cat wanted. He did not want to know what the cat wanted. In fact, he would gladly return to his couch lounging and his whiskey if the cat would leave him be.

It mewled a second time.

“Could you feed the cat?” Neil called from a room down the hall. Andrew did not know exactly which room because he did not bother to turn and look; his eyes were glued to the feline’s.

The cat’s tail swayed like a grandfather clock, swinging over the edge of the coffee table where Cat 2 stared intently at it.

The cat was hungry, that much Andrew knew, but it was too late to back out of whatever was between them. This was war.

After what seemed like forever, King Fluffykins stood. Without breaking their cold war of stares, it jumped on the arm of the couch, perching itself right next to Andrew.

He raised his glass towards the cat, a subtle friendly gesture. The cat accepted it and sniffed his hand, poking its delicate nose inside the glass. 

A silver of pink barely peeked past its mouth before the furry creature was snatched away by the only other human in the household.

“I don’t think alcohol is meant for cats,” Neil stated rather simply, putting King Fluffykins down on the carpet.

Andrew just shrugged. “It was a peace offering.”

“Its not a peace offering if you know it will kill them,” Neil stepped over Andrew’s legs, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. “You’re just tricking Fluffy into an untimely death.”

“The cat is stupid for falling for it, then.”

“Who do you think he got it from?”

Andrew turned his head, scanning Neil though half lidded eyes. “You.”

Um okay but why are we not talking more about andreil shotgunning???

  • they end up on the roof, some time after The First Kiss, and Neil’s not sure what to expect, kinda wants to pull Andrew close and memorize the taste of his tongue
  • instead Andrew shakes out a cigarette, casts Neil a glance before shoving the pack back in his jacket pocket
  • “what, you don’t share with me now?” “stop speaking. the oxygen is getting riled up that you’re being so wasteful.” “fuck you.”
  • so they sit in silence - Andrew smoking and Neil not - until Andrew turns his body so that he’s straddling the ledge and faces Neil
  • “yes or no?” Neil hesitates, if only to not appear to overly eager before fixing Andrew with a fixed gaze, “yes”
  • so Andrew lifts the cigarette to his lips, watching Neil carefully, and inhales the smoke; it seems to go in slow motion for Neil when Andrew’s other hand comes to cup the back of his neck and pull him closer
  • Neil thinks they’re going to kiss but he hasn’t exhaled the smoke and Neil’s entire world shifts on its axis when Andrew is in his space, becomes his space, and prompts Neil’s mouth open with his thumb
  • Neil’s eyes close, not all the way, but to the point where most of his vision is obscured and he focuses on Andrew’s breath on his lips, and then Andrew is blowing the smoke into his mouth and Neil seems to understand all at once; he inhales what Andrew exhales, takes what is given, all while their lips are just barely brushing
  • Neil feels electric, like he could cause an entire power outage with one touch if given the chance
  • Andrew feels so good, smelling and tasting of smoke, feeling like yes and good and holy shit
  • It feels like it goes on forever, it lasts about fifteen seconds
  • When there’s no more smoke between them, Andrew’s tongue comes out to lick over Neil’s lips and Neil shudders, momentarily thinking he might fall off the fucking roof with the sheer force of it
  • And then Andrew kisses him, one chaste press of warm lips to Neil’s, and then Andrew moves to sit as he once was, feet dangling over the edge with the cigarette still burning in his fingers
  • “ninety-seven percent. now fuck off.”

open to: males. / plots: little brother’s best friend; kid he used to babysit all grown-up.

❛ it’s kinda weird to see you after all of this time, dude. how long have i been gone? it doesn’t seem like it’s been eight years, but fuck me, right? ❜ andrew replied, gazing at the other; drinking in the sight of him. ❛ you look… good. like, REALLY good. have you been workin’ out or somethin’? ❜

pipe dream

read it on ao3

Rating: M

Summary: Andrew still didn’t let people touch him. He still wore a blank stare to face the world. He still didn’t care much about the others. He still flinched when he heard the word ‘please’. He still went straight for his knives when he was angry. He still hated Exy. He still hated himself.

But he let Neil hold his hand. And that was enough.

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“who said ‘please’ that made you hate the word so much?”
andrew gazed at him in silence for a minute. “i did.”

Prompt Writing: Prodigal_Son

So today I cracked open my copy of 400 Story Seeds to Crush Writer’s Block by M.Kirin (It’s an excellent book) and decided to try my hand at one. I’m not the best prompt writer, so I think I’ll try to make this a routine to improve that area of my writing. I included the prompt below and the short tale that accompanies it. I didn’t spend much time editing it, so the story is a bit rough and there may be grammar mistakes. Regardless of that, enjoy!

“Write about a character who is too afraid to set foot in a house because that was the place they grew up in. They ran away decades prior, promising themselves that they would never set foot in that place – but something happened. Why did they leave in the first place? And, most importantly, why would they return after so many years?”

Andrew’s gaze drifted down from the roof towards the door, and he forced himself to take another step. The old house was a little rough around the edges, paint peeling and windows dusty with age, but it held a prominent place in the young man’s heart.
It was home.
Home in the past tense, Andrew reminded himself. He hadn’t set foot on the lawn since he was seventeen, an age that felt like a lifetime ago. The circumstances that led him to run away had created a fear of coming home, fear of how his family would react to him.
He took another step, his boot crushing a pile of dry leaves underfoot.
Andrew stole another glance at the house and found memories flooding back, both good and bad. There was the flower garden where his mother had always fussed over her botanical experiments, doomed for failure. Next to the porch sat a short statue of a laughing cherub, its metal features stained with a greenish-blue patina.
Andrew stepped past the stump of the oak tree that had been cut down after he left, probably because it reminded his parents of why their son had run away from home. He could remember the day so well, when he had carved his initials next to Emi’s, scratched into the flesh of the tree as one final memento of their relationship.
Like the tree, she was gone now.
Andrew shook his head to sweep the memories away and found himself standing in front of the front door. It had taken him a few minutes to walk to the stoop, but it felt like hours had passed along the journey. Now, he stared at the painted blue door and searched his soul for the strength to knock.
Struggling against the many-limbed fear that tried to drag him down, Andrew raised a shaking fist and rapped on the wooden door. The silence that followed was all the time his mind needed to conjure up the infinite number of outcomes for the situation. Would his parents answer or not show up at all? Did they even want to see him again, after how he’d left, cursing their names?
Andrew jumped back to reality at the sound of the door opening and stared into the eyes of his father. Like the house, his face was now lined with age and his hair much whiter than it had been eleven years ago.
“Hello Andrew.”
His father’s words were like a bullet, striking the fear that held him back. Andrew blinked rapidly and found the words he had been looking for.
“Hey Dad. Look, I’m sorry–”
Whatever he would say next was cut off by his father’s warm embrace. Andrew froze for a moment, then returned the gesture. Once they separated, he wiped his eyes and smiled, an expression he hadn’t felt in a while.
“Dad, I know you’re probably wondering why I’m back, but all I want you to know is that I want to come home. I’m sorry for what happened before, with Emi.” Andrew explained, finding confidence with each word. His father smiled at him.
“Apology accepted Andrew. Come inside, your mother won’t believe me unless you tell her yourself.”
Andrew nodded his head and followed his father back inside the house to the ecstatic cries of his mother.
He was home.

imagine Andrew and Neil seeing each other for the first time in a suit

Like Neil has a visible reaction. He slows down and just gazes at Andrew who is coming out of the room. He just takes a deep breath and starts smiling. Andrew shoots him a death glare as he fixes his tie and complains about the damn suit. Because Neil has no control over his mouth some time during the night Neil blurts out that he finds Andrew very attractive in a suit. All the other Foxes just pause waiting to see Andrew’s reaction but all he says is 147%. 

Andrew on the other hand steals glances at Neil the whole night. no one really notices except Nicky who can’t keep the grin off his face. Andrew can’t help but feel surprised at how attracted he is to Neil in the suit. Andrew normally doesn’t find men dressed so proper and pristine attractive but Neil in a suit makes him pause. And by the end of the night Andrew has decided that he secretly loves seeing Neil in this attire. At the end of the night andrew pulls Neil by his tie to give him a kiss and whispers “Keep the suit”.