Lis_Nastya | AFTG art

He's a monster. He's the most loyal person you will ever meet. He's the best goalie in the league without even trying. He carries knives and will use them without hesitation. He once used them on himself. He hates the word 'family'. He will burn down the whole world for them. He uses promises like a tether to life. He treats promises like an oath. He doesn't have a mother. He once bleed for one. He's called violent, apathetic, possessive. He just trying to protect his own. He wants to stop wanting. He wants to stop caring. He does both a little too much.

Andrew reaches for Neil’s hand almost absentmindedly—but this time, something feels different. the scars are the same, nothing new, and yet… not the same at all. he turns Neil’s palm upward, bringing it closer to his face, his fingertips brushing over the ridges slowly, like he’s trying to memorize every uneven line. then he leans in, tracing them again with the tip of his nose, following each scar before returning to his fingers, grounding himself in the feel of them. finally, he presses a firm, lingering kiss into Neil’s palm, right over the scars, taking his time before pulling away. Neil, pulled from whatever he’d been doing, goes still, quietly watching. then, after a brief hesitation, he places that same hand against Andrew’s cheek, gently turning his face toward him before pressing a soft, long kiss to his lips.

what if neil had died in baltimore and Andrew started to use neil's keys in a necklace. what if. him kissing the key if the foxes won a game, also squeezing it every single night before he went to sleep, staring at it for hours in bad days, throwing the key away and then immediately regretting it so he had to ran back to rescue the key

nsfw-esque: Andrew’s strong, calloused hands massaging and moving Neil’s round ass in slow circles, hazel eyes transfixed by the motion as Andrew keeps Neil belly down and ass up, one pillow slid under his hips and another up by his head so Neil can stay comfortable and not have his face shoved into the mattress. Neil who is aware Andrew likes this sort of foreplay: quiet, soft appreciation that makes Neil’s own cock leak and bob a little more beneath him when he tries to rut into the sheets. Andrew’s fingertips pressing in deep enough to make Neil groan as Andrew finally spreads him open and reminds Neil “I’m a slow eater,” before he finally opts to nuzzle his face exactly where Neil wants it, and the little cry Neil lets out almost drowns out his shaky, painfully aroused reply of “I know.”