melopeya

[melopeya]

'"You're a Fox," Andrew said, like it was that simple, and maybe it was.'

I could've added a lot more details to this and it's not 100% accurate to the book, but I had to stop myself or this would've taken me another week to finish lmao

[melopeya]

hello!! this is my exchange gift for @one-eyed-kaneki-kun for the @aftgexchange

they asked for the boys getting coffee on a cold day :DDD i hope you like it

[melopeya]

Me omw to be a societal menace

[melopeya]

Kevin: Please bring home PURIFIED water with NO minerals added for taste

Andrew: We got spring water

Kevin: NO.

Neil: with EXTRA minerals

Andrew: it's like licking a stalagmite

Kevin: DON'T COME HOME.

Neil: Mmmmm cave water

[melopeya]

family portrait

[melopeya]

that thing they do

[melopeya]

"help me." "let me."

[melopeya]

100% going to be a menace and post all my aftg art because why not, also Andrew owning a coffee shop, my king fr! He's just a lil guy

[melopeya]

Renee: and then my parent was brutally murdered in prison

Neil: god, I WISH-

[melopeya]

neils decision to play for the foxes even though it would get him killed wasnt stupid, it was desperately fucking sad

[melopeya]

I'm a sucker for soft andreil hcs like them being all sappy and lovey- mwah give them happiness fr , so I took upon myself to draw soft andreil

[melopeya]

love when a dynamic is like. this would be deeply toxic for anyone else but considering the people involved this is actually far and away the healthiest option

[melopeya]

El percy at it again

[melopeya]

Allison’s Body🔪

[melopeya]

lazy morning

[melopeya]

andreil have the best ship dynamic because they're either "is your learning curve a horizontal line?" or "if it means losing you, then no" there's no in between

[melopeya]

twenty questions

andreil, rated t, 500 words / series: flashes of intimacy

The bus takes forever to warm up, and it’s been too long since Neil has felt the bite of a real winter. Luckily, Andrew is a furnace. 

“Are you going to fall asleep like this?” Andrew asks. It’s a fair question. The ride home is long. The back of the bus is quiet; everyone knows better than to bother them after a game. Neil’s head is pillowed in the crook of Andrew’s neck, his cold hands tucked into the pocket of Andrew’s sweatshirt. Andrew has an arm wrapped around Neil’s shoulder, his other hand resting warmly on the thigh Neil has draped over Andrew’s. Despite this, he’s not necessarily tired. Physically, maybe. But they won. Neil’s too doped up on serotonin to sleep.

“No,” Neil says. “Are you?”

Andrew hums noncommittally. Undecided, then. 

“We could play a game,” Neil suggests. 

“We just finished playing one.”

“No, a car game. Like from my book.” Neil received a coffee-table book of games from Nicky for Christmas, because he apparently lacks crucial childhood experiences. He tries to recall one of the games. “I Spy?”

“I spy something big, orange, and ugly hurtling down a dark highway.” 

“Okay, that one might not be good for the road,” Neil admits. “There was one about license plates. You try to see how many states you can spot.”

“Pennsylvania,” Andrew says, already looking out the window. “Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania. Earlier, I saw Pennsylvania.” 

“Funny,” Neil says dryly. “Fine, maybe I will sleep.” 

Andrew jerks his shoulder a bit, intentionally jostling Neil. 

“Twenty Questions,” he says. 

Neil smiles, thankful his face is pressed into the fabric of Andrew’s hoodie. Andrew must sense it anyway, because he digs his fingernails briefly into Neil’s cheek. 

“Which one is that?”

“I’m thinking of something,” Andrew says. “You have twenty questions to figure out what it is.”

It’s not yellow. It’s not something you can eat. It’s not a solid, a liquid, or a gas. 

“You’re out of questions,” Andrew says.

“Fine,” Neil says, jabbing Andrew lightly in the stomach. “What was it?”

“Your irritating lack of self-preservation instincts.”

“How was I supposed to guess that?”

“By asking better questions. Your turn.”

Andrew guesses that Neil was thinking about an Exy neck guard after nine questions.

“You’re too predictable,” Andrew murmurs, mouth pressed to Neil’s hair. 

Neil yawns. “Maybe you just know me too well.”

“Maybe,” Andrew says, squeezing Neil’s thigh. “But you’re also predictable.”

Neil only sighs in response. He’s so warm, and Andrew’s head is still turned so that Neil can feel the soft puffs of his breath in his hair, timed with the slow rise and fall of his torso under Neil’s hands. The whir and steady motion of the bus pull at Neil’s eyelids and at the corners of his consciousness. 

“I’m thinking of something,” Andrew whispers.

“Is it sleep?”

Andrew snorts. “Yeah.”

Neil burrows impossibly closer, finally letting his eyes fall closed.

“See?” Neil murmurs. “I know you too.”