Fuckin' Nerd

Andrew is most tactile in the early morning, before he’s fully awake. while they’re brushing their teeth, he absentmindedly rests a hand on Neil’s waist, his fingers lazily tracing slow circles over the small of his back. the touch is so automatic that Andrew probably isn’t even aware he’s doing it. afterward, Neil fully expects Andrew to wander off to the kitchen like he always does. Instead, Andrew quietly steps behind him, wraps both arms around his waist, and pulls him close, resting his chin on Neil’s shoulder before burying his face against the side of his neck. their bare skin presses together, warm and unhurried, and that warmth only makes Neil question whether their morning run is really worth it. Andrew’s eyes are still glazed with sleep, softer than the calm, unreadable gaze Neil is used to. his hands continue their slow path along Neil’s sides, occasionally coming to a complete stop, as though he’d almost drifted back to sleep standing there. Neil turns just enough to cup Andrew’s slightly pouty cheeks, smiling as he wipes away the tiny smear of toothpaste left at the corner of his mouth. “Just go back to bed,” he murmurs before pressing a slow kiss to Andrew’s lips. Andrew doesn’t even bother kissing him back properly. he only looks at Neil through an unfocused, sleepy gaze, his hands still loosely holding Neil’s waist, before giving the smallest shake of his head. so, despite Andrew’s obvious reluctance to begin the day, Neil ends up watching him shuffle around the kitchen half-asleep, gently swaying on the balls of his feet while waiting for the kettle to boil. he stirs his coffee with slow, absent movements, and when his morning need for closeness begins to reach its limit, he quietly leans back until his shoulders meet Neil’s chest, staying there while he finishes the last few sips of caffeine. these moments exist only in the earliest hours of the morning, before Andrew has fully become himself again. Neil treasures every single one of them. truthfully, he’d wake Andrew up at five in the morning every day if it meant getting to spend just a little longer with this sleepy, unguarded version of him.

Kevaaron shippers are like sastiel shippers to me like what’re you doing that for kandrew is right there you are eating cardboard when a delicious juicy steak is sitting right in front of you

I know I already made a post to this effect but it's so baffling to me when someone defends the fact that headphone jacks are slowly but surely getting phased out by smartphone manufacturers with some variations of "wireless headphones are more convenient anyway" bc like. If we're talking about convenience what I like about wired headphones is that they conveniently have a single plug that makes the same damn pair of headphones universally compatible with every single audio-output-capable device I own, from my phone and my computer to my fucking gameboy and my casette player, it doesn't get any more convenient than that.

wishing Nora a very please leave Kevin Day and Jeremy Knox fucking alone

Neil loves sharing his progress with Andrew, and Andrew loves the fact that he’s the one Neil chooses to practice on. Neil hooks a finger beneath the waistband of Andrew’s sweatpants just enough to catch his attention before asking, “Can I sit on your lap?” the moment Andrew nods, Neil climbs onto him without hesitation. “Can I try?” he murmurs a few seconds later, his voice barely above a whisper, as his fingers absentmindedly tracing along the side of Andrew’s neck. when the answer comes, a simple, “Yes.”, Neil still hesitates. his gaze flickers between Andrew’s eyes and his mouth, and somehow it’s always this moment, the last second before he closes the distance, that steals his breath the most. his chest tightens with anticipation, with the unbearable awareness that the person he wants is only inches away. Andrew had kissed him with effortless confidence from the very beginning, devouring his mouth as though he’d always known exactly what he was doing, and Neil had never lacked enthusiasm in return. technique, however… Neil desperately wants to kiss Andrew the way Andrew kisses him. the thought only grows stronger every time he forces himself to bridge the space between them, presses his lips against Andrew’s, carefully parts them with the tip of his tongue in an attempt to deepen the kiss, and draws him closer by the nape, where Neil’s fingers never seem to stop tangling in his hair. every attempt is different. every time Neil tilts his head at a slightly different angle, trying to figure it out. sometimes his teeth accidentally brush against Andrew’s which makes him frown, sometimes he freezes halfway through the kiss, trying to understand how to do exactly what he had in mind. “You do it differently,” he whispers, slightly out of breath as he pulls back just enough to fill his lungs. Andrew finds that expression unbearably irritating—Neil looks completely dazed with want while remaining so intensely focused on learning, determined to understand every movement behind the way Andrew kisses him. “It isn’t supposed to be the same as mine.” Andrew’s hands have been slowly rubbing circles over Neil’s thighs for several minutes now. “I like the way you kiss me,” Neil admits, his fingertips drifting lazily along Andrew’s jaw. “I want to make you feel like that too.” he has no idea what those words are doing to Andrew. at this point, even the smallest brush of Neil’s fingers is enough to make Andrew’s stomach tighten. “Show me again,” Neil says. this time, it’s Andrew who’s caught by anticipation. It doesn’t last long. his hands settle firmly around Neil’s waist before he pulls him flush against his body and kisses him the way he knows will leave Neil melting beneath him—deep, practiced, impossibly thorough, until quiet sighs and soft, involuntary moans begin slipping free whenever Andrew becomes almost too much. and if there’s one thing Andrew knows better than anyone, it’s that Neil memorizes every single movement with unwavering determination, fully intending to try them on Andrew himself just a few minutes later.

Neil has a habit of slowly slipping lower until his face disappears into the crook of Andrew’s neck or against his chest. he doesn’t even try to hide the deep breath he draws in, filling his lungs with Andrew’s scent as though searching for the one place where nothing else in the apartment can reach him, where there’s only Andrew. “You smell like yourself,” he murmurs, his lips never leaving Andrew’s skin. “Were you expecting someone else’s?” Andrew asks, absentmindedly combing his fingers through Neil’s curls. Neil only answers with a quiet grunt, shaking his head before burrowing even closer. again and again, he makes the same tiny adjustments, clumsily trying to melt into Andrew without disturbing him, until Andrew finally lets out a quiet sigh. “You’ve got ten minutes.” It’s all the permission Neil needs. the very next second, his legs are hopelessly tangled with Andrew’s, his arms wrapped securely around Andrew’s lower back as he presses every inch of himself as close as physically possible. soon, the only part of him still visible is the crown of red hair tucked beneath Andrew’s chin. “Junkie.” Andrew rolls his eyes, thoroughly trapped in a position that isn’t particularly comfortable, but at least Neil finally stops squirming. the top of Neil’s head rests directly beneath Andrew’s lips, making it almost inevitable that he scatters a few absentminded kisses there as they talk. eventually, Andrew shifts, sliding a hand beneath Neil’s back before rolling him fully underneath him, pinning him gently between the mattress and his own body as he settles his weight on top. the moment Andrew’s scent completely overwhelms every other smell in the room, Neil lets out a muffled, deeply content little “Yeah…” as his hands instinctively stroke Andrew’s back and sides. Andrew isn’t entirely sure whether that quiet “yeah” is Neil’s response to being called a junkie or something slipped out from his unconscious mind, but judging by the way Neil melts beneath him, he clearly prefers this position. resting his chin atop Neil’s head, Andrew presses another lingering kiss into his hair, breathing in the clean scent left behind by Neil’s evening shower. “I’ll make it twenty,” he murmurs quietly. “if it's too hard—wheeze." Neil’s arms only tighten more firmly around Andrew’s waist locking them together, making it perfectly clear that he couldn’t care less about the discomfort if it means holding onto this moment for just a little longer.

what must it have been like for Katelyn to find herself trapped against a wall by someone infamous for his violence, his uncontrollable aggression, the man who killed his own mother and wouldn’t hesitate to put a knife to his own family in broad daylight? and perhaps the most terrifying part was realizing that this man looked exactly like the person she loved most. the one she trusted. the one she turned to for comfort. to hear that same familiar voice, that same face, telling her he was ready to kill her. what must it have been like to go back to Aaron afterward? to look into his eyes, to hear the very same voice gently reassuring her. because only an hour earlier, that exact same face and that exact same voice had been threatening to kill her where she stood.