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circle-with-me · 4 months

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‘tis the damn season - part 2

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Genevieve/Viv/Vivvy)

Content Warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst, hurt - no comfort, brief mentions of child abuse, panic attacks, mentions of death/dying, brief mentions of violence/threats of violence, Will Ramos is stubborn as hell.

Word Count: 3.3k

Taglist: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @midnight-eternals @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @cookiesupplier @lilrubles @meekahy

If you would like to be added to my tag list for this series or my other work, please click here.

Author’s note: There’s a lot more Will in this part and I promise there will be even more in future parts. Also, this one is probably going to hurt because it hurt me while I wrote it. Soooo…. Sorry 😬 Enjoy 😊

Will’s POV

The snow crunches beneath Will’s feet as he heads towards the cafe. That morning, he woke up with a sore throat and decided he’d grab some hot tea before practice that morning. He couldn’t afford to lose his voice now. Lorna was going on tour next month and they had a lot of kinks to work out with their set.

Leaving the cafe, Will heads in the direction of the warehouse. Traffic in front of the cafe was absurd. He could walk down the opposite way to a slower intersection, cut across and then walk back up. The only problem was that it would take him past the park.

He avoided the park as much as he could

“Man, it’s been eight years. Get over it.” he says out loud to himself.

As he walks past the park, he sees the gazebo. There was a light dusting of snow on the roof and the stairs. Christmas garlands were attached to each railing. Icicle lights were hanging from the top railings and Christmas wreaths were adorning each post.

It looked like something out of a Christmas card.

Will walks up the steps and stands in the middle of the structure. He couldn’t remember the last time he had come here. It looked the same but had a fresh coat of paint. A moment of panic sets in as he sets his tea down and steps onto the railing. Hoisting himself up he stands on his tiptoes to look into the rafters.

The entirety of the area had been painted white. Fuck, where is it? He couldn’t see it. It had been forever but he knew it was on this side. He couldn’t see it. His heart sank. It was gone. He started to lower himself down but something caught his eye off to the side. A faint etching into the wood that he would have missed if he hadn’t turned just so.

“W <3’s V 4eva”

Will let out the breath he was holding; a sharp pain shooting through his chest. It was a pain he hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling struck him so hard it made his knees weak and he had to hold on to the post next to him to keep from falling off the railing.

It should have been a meaningless little thing. He had made that mark when he was a teenager, barely sixteen. Thirteen years later and he can still remember every moment of that day. How she smelled of cinnamon and cherries. The way her dark red hair fell in waves and would get tangled in the buttons of her coat. How red her nose and cheeks got from the cold. Her green eyes sparkling as she looked at the Christmas lights.

God dammit, he hated this time of year.

Will arrives at the warehouse to see Moke and Austin standing outside.

“Get here when you can, brother.” Moke exclaims, grinning.

“Fuck are you talking about, dude? I’m early as always.” Will responds.

“Practice was supposed to start 20 minutes ago, dumbass.” Austin pipes in.

Will checks his phone and he in fact was not early at all. His detour took a little longer than he thought. He looks up sheepishly and both guys burst out laughing.

“Sorry, guys.”

Adam slaps him on the back. “Don’t worry about it, man. Adam and Andrew are inside arguing about guitar stuff.”

“That’s why we’re out here.” Moke adds. “If I had to hear them fight like an old married couple for one more second I was going to shove Archey’s drumsticks in my ears.”

Will laughs loudly as they dramatically act out the guitarists argument.

Initially, he doesn’t see the woman with long dark red hair pass by but he notices her stop suddenly. For a split second he figures that she’s lost but then it hits him. The scent of cinnamon and cherries.

The scent is all-consuming. It fills his nostrils and in a millisecond seven years of memories flash before his eyes. She turns around slowly, making eye contact with him and he’s sure he’s fucking dreaming because it can’t be her.

“Shit.” he hears her say and that’s her voice. How is she here? Why is she here? After all this time..

He calls after her and she doesn’t stop. In fact, she picks up her pace. So, he takes off after her.

“Will! Where the fuck are you going?” Austin yells at his friend as he takes off running but it was no use. Will was on a mission.

Will continues to call after her and she refuses to stop. He feels dizzy, nauseated, and desperate because if he can just get a hand on her. Just touch her so he can know she’s real and he’s not crazy.

“Goddammit, Genevieve, stop!” Finally catching up with her, he grabs her by the arm and spins her around to face him.

They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. He wonders what’s going through her mind. He can’t seem to gather his thoughts because he’s still trying to grasp onto the fact that she’s actually here in front of him.

Somehow, she was even more beautiful than the last time he saw her.

The last time he saw her.

Will recalls the moment she left and the shooting pain in his chest returns. Anger rushes through him and without thinking, his grip on her arm tightens. Tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes and she shifts uncomfortably. Realization settles in and he lets go, internally chastising himself. It doesn’t matter how long she’s been gone. He knows better.

He glances at her again and even though the tears are still there he can tell she’s not panicking anymore. Her tears are for an entirely different reason. The moment is so overwhelming he can nearly feel his own forming but being the stubborn man that he is, he blinks them away. Will is not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she still has that much of an effect on him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” she states matter-of-factly.

Will laughs humorlessly. “Seriously? After all these years, that’s all I get?”

Gen narrows her eyes and folds her arms across her chest.

“Right, because ‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ is so much better?”

“I think I have every right to be frustrated, Viv.”

“Don’t call me that.” she says firmly.

Will raises his eyebrows. “And what exactly am I supposed to call you?”

“If it’s all the same to you, Will, I’d prefer it if we just didn’t interact at all. I’m only here because I wasn’t given a choice and I plan to leave as soon as possible.”

A mixture of anger and desperation rises in him again. He wasn’t expecting her to jump into his arms but he didn’t think she’d blow him off like this. He needed something. More than this. He didn’t know how she could just pretend like this moment meant nothing to her when it meant everything to him.

Would he actually admit to that, though? Of course not.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Always in such a hurry to leave. Of course, I'm not surprised. It’s your favorite thing to do.”

This time, Gen laughs, but it’s the coldest laugh Will has ever heard. She steps closer to him and their faces are so close they are almost touching. Her perfume fills his nostrils again and he wishes he could start their conversation over. Tell her he was sorry for everything and kiss her breathless but it was too late. He ruined everything, once again.

All because of his goddamn pride.

“As much as I would love to stand here all day and rehash old wounds, Ramos, I have better things to do. Like bury my piece of shit father, for starters.”

Will doesn’t even get a chance to speak before she’s walking away from him. She never looks back at him for a moment but he watches her until her figure disappears.

Gen’s POV

Gen walks until the tears falling down her face begin to burn and her lungs start to hurt from the cold air. She was two blocks from the lawyer’s office but she couldn’t move anymore. She stops and sits on a bench in front of a random store in an attempt to collect herself.

She scrubs her shaking hands over her face and tries to control her breathing. She’s barely been back home for a few hours and she already ran into him. She hated being from such a small town.

“Always in such a hurry to leave… it’s your favorite thing to do.”

Will’s voice echoes on repeat in her mind until her head begins to pound. He knows damn well why I left. Gen thinks to herself. Who the fuck is he to throw that in my face?

Through the years she must have rehearsed their first conversation upon reuniting a hundred times. It was never something she expected to actually happen, but she was always preparing for shit like that. She knew it would be overwhelming and emotional but when she imagined it, she always handled it in a calm and practical manner.

Clearly, it’s much different when the person who broke your heart is standing right in front of you. It didn’t stop her from regretting the way she reacted. The way he grabbed her and the emotional whiplash from their sudden reunion had her adrenaline pumping. Agitation and being defensive were her go-to responses.

Gen knew that he didn’t intend to grab her like that. He knew better. It was embarrassing that it still affected her the way that it did.

Gen sighs shakily and checks her phone. She had five minutes to be at Mr. Shaw’s office. Her pity party would have to wait until later.

“Ms. Castillo, I’m Nathan Shaw. Thank you so much for coming in on such short notice.” The man extends his hand to Gen and she accepts it. He was younger than she expected, late thirties at the oldest. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back and his eyes were a piercing blue. When he flashes a smile at her, she concludes that feature alone wins a lot of his cases.

“It’s Taylor, actually. I told your secretary that on the phone yesterday. Anna, I believe?”

He glances down at the paper. “Oh, yes! She’s written it right here. My apologies, Ms. Taylor. Or is it Mrs?”

Gen has to bite back a laugh. “No, sir. It’s definitely still Ms.” She holds up her left hand to show him her bare ring finger.

Mr. Shaw smiles softly. “Very good, Ms. Taylor.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “If you don’t mind. How did you find me? My father and I haven’t spoken in years.”

“He had your phone number and address listed for us to call in the event of his death.”

Gen pauses for a moment, unsure how she feels that he actually had her address this whole time. “It’s just that… I changed my name and my contact information years ago, so that he couldn’t find me. I just don’t understand how he even had that information to give to you.”

Mr. Shaw looks at her over his glasses, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He flips back to the front page of the packet in front of him and turns it around to where Gen can look at it. She scoots up to the end of her chair to get a better look as he points to a particular paragraph.

I, Gabriel Fernando Castillo, am a widower. I was married to Margaret Anaïs Taylor Castillo on September 13, 1993, who died on August 9, 2007. We had one child, Genevieve Gabriela Castillo, who was born on August 11, 1994.

Genevieve Gabriela Castillo. Her eyes read the one line over and over again. God, she despises that name.

“What are you showing me this for, Mr. Shaw?” she asks, pointedly.

An amused look spreads across his face. “Ms. Taylor, with all due respect, if you wanted to change your name so your father couldn’t find you.” He pauses for a moment, considering his next statement carefully. “Your mother’s maiden name maybe wasn’t the best choice.”

Three hours, one panic attack, and a lot of kleenex later, Gen’s appointment with Nathan Shaw was finished.

Gabriel left her everything. His house. His car. An oddly large sum of money that was left in his bank accounts that she didn’t dare question its origin. Before she changed her name and number for good, he had called her relentlessly asking for money. No doubt having drunk it all up.

According to Mr. Shaw, that was what killed him. His liver failed and he chose to waste away at home instead of in the hospital waiting for an organ transplant. Mr. Shaw warned her that the house wasn’t in the best shape since he spent the last several months bedridden and would rarely let anyone in. He assured her, however, that “the mess” from his death had been cleaned up so she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Oh, right. If it wasn’t enough for her to inherit her childhood home that held enough traumatic memories for a lifetime, it’s now potentially haunted by the ghost of her father? Nope. Nothing to worry about at all. She didn’t even believe in ghosts, but if anyone would come back to haunt her, that fucker would.

Considering her options, she decided to sell the house and the car. They were of no use to her. The money in Gabriel’s accounts would go towards whatever repairs were needed to make the house sellable and the rest she’d donate to charity.

Gen didn’t need him or his money. Dead or not she sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking she did.

So, now, it would appear that her whirlwind trip home would be much longer than anticipated. The realization of which caused her panic attack. Mr. Shaw’s sweet secretary, Anna, came rushing in his office with kleenex and water to help. Once she calmed down, Gen told Anna whatever Mr. Shaw was paying her wasn’t enough. Anna just smiled sweetly and headed back to her desk.

Another hour and a half later, the funeral arrangements had been made. The visitation would be Sunday at noon with the funeral immediately afterwards. A four hour affair where Gen would have to smile and pretend to care as people she hadn’t seen in years told her how wonderful her father was and how they can’t believe she’s been gone so long.

She felt nauseous already.

She took a deep breath, cracking her neck and massaging her jaw in an attempt to ease the tension from the day. She was in desperate need of food and a shower. She decided to head to her hotel, order takeout, and call it a night. She couldn’t bring herself to go to Gabriel’s house tonight. She would go tomorrow when she was rested and her head was clear.

As Gen laid in bed, she reflected on her day. Now that it was over, it all felt like a fever dream. She thought of Will’s face. The way it shifted from frustration to guilt when she told him why she was there. She had called him Ramos. She only called him that when she was mad and he hated it. She knew that, though, and said it on purpose.

She did it for the exact same reason he took a jab at her for leaving. There’s an ache in her. An ache caused by all the years of pain from her mother dying, her father drinking to cope with the loss and the abuse that followed afterwards. Will became her escape. He was always there to protect and comfort her.

One night, Will nearly beat her father unconscious after he had broken Gen’s ribs again for not cleaning the dishes the way he liked them. He was only seventeen at the time. Gabriel was an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to put himself at risk of an investigation, so he didn’t say anything. After that night, the physical abuse stopped but the psychological abuse became worse. Will promised Gen that as soon as she turned eighteen, he was moving her in with him.

The day of her eighteenth birthday, Will moved her into his apartment. He had saved for months and managed to get one just a few weeks before her birthday. It was small and they barely had any furniture, but she didn’t care. Gabriel tracked her down and tried causing a scene but Will told him if he came near her or touched her again he’d make sure he didn’t wake up that time.

Gen was finally able to heal. She felt safe and secure at home for the first time in five years. They were both working and making enough to pay their bills with a little extra. She started college. For once, everything was going well.

The only problem was that she hated Westwood. It was too small for her and despite the memories she made with Will, it was filled with too many bad ones. She wanted out. She had a degree and had developed a strong skill set in music as an audio technician at the small recording studio she worked at and wanted to pursue a career as a recording engineer.

The owner of the studio had connections all over the country and was able to get her a job in New York. Gen was ecstatic and ran home to Will to tell him the good news. He had been supportive of her dream and told her he’d go anywhere for her.

However, when she told him it was finally happening, his face dropped. A silence fell between them that she had never experienced in all of the years they had been together. He stood from his seat on the couch, looked at her firmly, and told her no.

No? What did he mean “no”?

He meant no. She wasn’t going. He wasn’t going. They weren’t going.

Will’s reason was that she could do the same job in New Jersey that she could in New York. She argued that, while true, New York would give her a lot more opportunities to work with different artists and producers. Not to mention a lot more money.

He continued to refuse. Telling Gen it was a waste of time and attempting to educate her on how expensive New York is but it just came out as condescending. She explained how much extra she would be making and it may be hard at first but it would be worth it in the end.

When that didn’t work, he tried to explain that he had finally become comfortable with his band and didn’t want to mess that up by leaving. He also mentioned his family was in Westwood and they couldn’t just abandon them. She called him selfish and pointed out that New York was less than two hours by train. Not across the fucking country.

Gen was distraught and confused. Where was this coming from? This was not the Will she had known for so long. He had never tried to hold her back or tell her she couldn’t do anything. If she didn’t know any better, he almost seemed desperate to keep her in Westwood with him. But why?

After hours of arguing, he became silent again. He stood in front of the glass door that led out to their patio and just stared into the darkness. After what seemed like forever, he raked his hand through his curls and exhaled harshly like he had to prepare himself for what he was about to say.

“I love you, Vivvy… but you’re not going to make it in New York. You’re good at what you do but they’ll eat you alive up there. You’re not going and that’s final.”

Part Three

#will ramos #lorna shore #will ramos x ofc #will ramos fanfic #will ramos fic #will ramos fanfiction #lorna shore fanfic #lorna shore fic #lorna shore fanfiction #will ramos x reader #tis the damn season #ttds

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stabbyfoxandrew · 8 months

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Guardian Angel Neil for WIP Wed?

WIP Wednesday (8/30) | Guardian Angel Neil AU

“I’m seeing someone.” Andrew says at his and Betsy’s next session. He’s barely sat down before the words are spilling off his tongue. He instantly wishes he could eat them back up when Bee blinks in surprise.

“Oh? Romantically?”

“Not exactly.” Andrew taps his fingers against the sofa cushion. “He’s in my head, you see.”

Betsy’s face twists in concern. She rights it immediately, slapping on her usual contemplative yet encouraging smile. “What do you mean 'in your head'?”

Andrew releases a breath. “He says he’s my guardian angel. I’m apparently the only one who ever sees him and he always looks exactly the same.”

“Where do you see him?” Bee asks, straightening up so she can take notes of his crumbling mental stability.

“On the roof, when I go to smoke.” Andrew answers. Betsy nods. Andrew knows she doesn’t like him being on the roof in the first place.

“And… he talks to you? Or is he just there?”

“We talk.”

“About what?”

<- previous | first | next->

#andreil #aftg #Guardian Angel Neil AU #WIP Wednesday #🕊️#answered #thatrandombookworm

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owlmoonboi · 1 month

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Daisy

Chapter One: The arrival

Daisy sat on the train, nervously pinching her arm, her brown hair tinged with red in the sunlight. Her neatly braided hair was matched with a tight, dark blue dress that made her feel constricted. Across from her, a woman comforted a crying baby whose face was red and glistening with tears. “Shh…shh it’ll be ok darling.” The woman whispered sweetly as though it was a lullaby. The scene tugged at Daisy’s heart strings as small tears rolled down her face. She could feel a memory coming. Her memories come and go like the sun rises each morning. It was undeniable and true. Her past clung onto her tight like a looming shadow.

She was in a small room which had white walls and grey carpet. Cradling a baby in her arms she paced up and down. Her feet were tired. She was small, lucky to be six at the oldest. There was a sixteen year old girl slapping a girl about the age of thirteen until she bled. The younger girl was crying as another girl who was around fifteen pulled her curly blonde hair. Tears drenching her face. Daisy tugged the baby tighter with fear. The caretaker Mrs Higgins was in her room with a man and she had warned them earlier “If anyone comes knocking at my door I’ll come at you with the wooden spoon.” Mrs Higgins brought men over a lot and was often drunk. Whenever a man came over she’d say ”I think I might be having twins.” Or the children would hear moans coming from the room.

At just twelve, Daisy had already faced more than her fair share of hardships. Her parents, Andrew and Anna, had passed away before she even reached her first birthday. Andrew died in an accident while constructing the town bridge. Her mother, Anna, followed, succumbing to the measles. With both parents gone, Daisy's life seemed to disintegrate.

On top of her parents' tragic deaths, both sets of her grandparents had passed away before she was born. Daisy's only hope after her parents' passing was her aunt, Lily, but fate didn't allow their reunion.

Lily, Daisy's sole living relative, had herself been pulled into the chaos of war. She worked as a nurse and had left Daisy to serve the country in times of need. However, upon her return, Lily found Daisy in an orphanage, but lost track of her whereabouts as she sought to care for her. Tragically, Daisy had been moved between different orphanages, and Lily couldn't trace her down. Lily's wartime experiences, the haunting sights of men succumbing to their injuries despite her efforts, left a lasting mark on her. It plagued her every sleep, acting out her nightmares, and Lily was later institutionalized in an asylum.

This torment lingered in Lily's heart, manifesting in the form of nightmares that she couldn't contain. The guilt for leaving Daisy when she needed someone the most tore Lily apart. She was devastated at her inability to help those she watched die and those she couldn't nurse back to health. The realization that she couldn't rescue Daisy in her most vulnerable moment had haunted Lily and continued to haunt her in her own shattered state. The pain eventually became too much for Lily leading her to jump from the roof of the asylum as an escape from the harsh reality known as life.

Daisy carried the heartache of never really knowing Lily, the aunt who was her last, fragile link to her family. Lily was a nebulous figure in Daisy's life, someone she encountered sporadically, yet whose presence had a remarkable impact on her childhood. Their few interactions were fleeting moments, but ones filled with tenderness and a fragile sense of connection that Daisy held onto dearly.

The limited time they spent together felt like a brief flicker of warmth in an otherwise chilly existence. Daisy held onto the pieces of those moments—vague snippets of stories, fleeting smiles, and hushed conversations. Lily's voice was an echo in Daisy's memories, a soft, comforting whisper in a world otherwise cold and unfriendly. However, these memories were fleeting and never truly formed a complete image of who Lily was.

These scant recollections left Daisy in a peculiar state. She wished for more—more memories, more conversations, and more time. The void in her heart deepened as she yearned for the presence of a guardian she never truly knew. Lily was a puzzle with missing pieces, a mystery that haunted Daisy's lonely existence in the orphanage.

As Daisy moved from one place to another, the longing to know Lily, to feel the connection they might have had, grew stronger. Each time she entered a new home, her heart ached for the stories she never heard, the guidance she never received, and the love she never fully experienced from the aunt who had fought her own battles and ultimately succumbed to them.

This yearning for a deeper connection with Lily added to Daisy's sense of displacement. Her only anchor to her past was a series of fragmented memories, and a desperate yearning to understand the person she could never truly know. When she was seven she attended the funeral for her Aunt Lily dressed in a black dress and placing a rose at her tombstone.

In her turbulent journey from orphanage to orphanage, Daisy's life was a series of disrupted routines and shattered hopes. Ten different orphanages in just as many years painted a bleak picture of instability and perpetual transition. Each place was a transient and often unfriendly environment where she never had the chance to lay roots or find the stability she desperately needed.

The orphanages were places of despair, not of refuge. Daisy, shifting from one to another, found herself the target of maltreatment, always the scapegoat for the other children's frustration and anger. The older girls found pleasure in exerting their power over her, their pranks, often cruel, became her nightmares. Daisy, vulnerable and defenseless, was a convenient victim in their pursuit of a sense of power.

She was assigned chores that weren't appropriate for her age, forced into a life of responsibility that robbed her of her childhood. Cleaning at the age of three and tending to babies at the mere age of five created a burden far beyond what a child her age should carry.

The caretakers were no saviors either. Most were inebriated most of the time, bringing strange men home and leaving Daisy in an environment she couldn't comprehend. The careless brutality she faced was more evident during the caretakers' drunken escapades. "Making a baby tonight," they'd slur, the lewd and suggestive remarks tinged with an underlying cruelty that pierced Daisy's innocence.

As if her life weren't tumultuous enough, Daisy was later sent to an asylum. It wasn't because she needed mental health treatment; it was simply due to the lack of space in the orphanages. There were many other children there as well. Some who seeked help while others were there for the same reason as Daisy. The asylum was a realm of sheer horror, its walls echoing with tormented screams that reverberated into the silent nights. People would shout at the top of their lungs, their terror and nightmares transforming the place into an abyss of fear and despair. There were adults who ran around chasing each other with knives, many people who committed suicide and there was even babies who were addicted to drugs.

The other children's cruelty seemed to know no bounds. Daisy endured frightening assaults, such as being shoved near the fireplace or pushed down the stairs. If she wasn’t able to get up quick enough from the ground they’d kick her. The laughter that followed her distress at their hands haunted her dreams forming nightmares. Babies would cry ceaselessly, and nights were laced with maniacal screams or incomprehensible ramblings. Some, perhaps haunted by their traumas or haunted by imagined phantoms, would scream and gesticulate as if trapped in the clutches of their worst nightmares.

It was in this grim place that Daisy's fragile hope, already teetering on the brink, flickered and began to dim. It was a world away from the care and comfort a child her age should have experienced. Her hope was fire and the terrors she faced was rain. Fire can’t last with water.

“Are you alright darling? You seemed to be in a daze.” The woman sitting across from her asked. Daisy, too nervous to speak, nodded. Her whole life she had been told “Children are to be seen not heard.” Daisy found herself boarding a train, unsure of where the journey would lead her. She carried her essentials in a bag slung over her shoulder and, due to the limited funds, didn’t have the chance to purchase any food during the trip. With just her clothing and a series of heavy memories, she disembarked into the unknown.

She hopped off the train wandering through a crowd of bustling people. Men in suits with briefcases and women with their children. Daisy often felt jealous of children she saw with parents. She always felt a sense of longing for love. At the station, she noticed a weathered man with a white beard holding a piece of paper which said “Orphan” on it, “Who on Earth could that be for?” Daisy thought to herself as she stood still weary of the man. “What are you doing just standing there girly. If you’re an orphan, come on over.” The man grumbled. “Yes sorry sir.” Daisy mustered trying not to sound nervous. “I’m Grant Johnson. You’ll be living with me and my wife Martha.” He said breathly. She followed him to a cart which had a silver horse with a black mane and tail and a horse with a caramel coat that had a brown mane and coat. “What are their names?” Daisy asked shyly. “The silver one is named Mune and the caramel is named Toffee.” He responded with a smile. Mr Johnson is fond of animals. He likes to believe that a dog is man’s best friend even though he doesn’t own a dog. Mr Johnson was responsible for escorting her to the place that was to be her new home. As they traversed on a horse-drawn cart, Daisy tried to remain hopeful about the new chapter in her life. As Daisy looked at the tall trees and small shops with colourful window displays she began to imagine she was a lost princess being taken to the castle. When they arrived at their destination, she discovered that reality did not match the idyllic images she had conjured.

The farm was far from the welcoming scene she had hoped for, with mud-soaked grounds and a slightly dilapidated cottage. Yet, it was in this unforeseen setting that Daisy’s life was poised for an unexpected change.

“Who's she? What is she doing here? I asked for a boy. Why didn't you bring a boy, Grant?" Martha sternly questioned. "I'm sorry, Martha, but she was the only orphan there," Grant sighed. "I want her gone this instant. Send her back so we can get a boy. We need a boy to help you with the chores on the farm as your arthritis is worsening," Martha demanded. "Alright, honey, I'll send her back tomorrow at dawn."

"Please don't send me back. I'll do whatever you want. I can do whatever a boy can do if you give me the chance," Daisy pleaded with tears in her eyes, getting to her knees, ready to beg. "Tell me your name and get up from the ground. I won't have it," Martha said abruptly.

"Daisy Smith," Daisy stammered as she got up, wiping mud off her dress. "Daisy, seeing as I am a fair woman, I will give you a trial over the course of a week, but like baseball, it's three strikes and you're out. Do you understand?" Mrs. Johnson said.

"Yes, I understand. Why thank you very much, Mrs. Johnson. You won't regret having me," Daisy cheered. "I very well hope so," she responded as they went inside to the dining room. A hot meal of beef, bread covered with beef fat, greens, and baked potatoes awaited them on the table, served onto white plates with a gold leaf pattern and a glass of milk.

“Would you care to say a prayer?” Martha asked Daisy as they sat at the redwood table, before they began to eat. “I’m sorry but I don’t know any prayers. We didn’t eat meals together. Let alone pray. We were lucky if we were given dinner.” Daisy muttered meekly with a loose strand of hair hanging over her face. “Well child we’ll have to teach you how to say a prayer tomorrow. Tonight you can just say amen. Grant will say the prayer.” Martha stated appalled at the idea of someone not being raised to act for god.

After dinner Daisy helped Martha with the dishes. Daisy always strangely enough felt pleasure when doing the dishes as it had always been one of the nicer tasks she was given. She was always able to escape into a world of her own where the strife and hardships she faced could not bother her. She liked to imagine herself with the mother and father she never got to know. In most of her imaginings she is sitting in front of a fire with her mother brushing her hair while her father reads a story. She likes to think one day she’ll look like her mother, not that she knows what she looked like. She imagines her mother as a woman with skin that could be confused with snow, hair that cascades over her shoulders like a waterfall, a warm smile and eyes that melt the heart.

Martha assisted Daisy in saying a prayer before she went to bed. Daisy had let her long locks loose. Her hair sat at her waist. She was wearing a long white nightgown that was made of satin. Satin is a material similar to silk but a more cost friendly fabric. “Goodnight Daisy. Sleep well. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.” Martha hummed softly leaving the door ajar as she left the room. Daisy flicked the lamp next to her on the bedside table before gently placing her head on a pillow stuffed with duck feathers. The pillow had been made last winter when Grant had to kill a duck since it had grown ill.

Daisy smiled as she shut her eyes and went to sleep since for the first time in her life she felt like she was at home.

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superblycaffeinated · 5 months

Text

For more Nebraska, Ace, Bombshell and Wise Guy stories (and other Gallagher Girl fics), see my GG Masterlist

Summary: the one at Matthew Morgan's funeral

2.3k words

warnings: mentions of alcohol and death

A/N: This was originally posted on my old account // it has been edited slightly since my original writing - I appreciate any new notes left for it! 💙

Stay, If You Want:

Rachel Morgan & Joe Solomon

It felt incredibly wrong that it was raining. Fitting, some might say. Matt would have been one of the some, probably.

Something about how the rain was good for a day like today - how it was washing away the past, helping nourish and coax new life to take roots and bloom when the sun came back out.

But as it pounded on the roof of the black town car, and I watched Cammie stare out the window at the scenery passing by like she wasn’t really seeing it, her tears and the rain mixing until I wasn’t sure which was which, all I could think was that it’s wrong. It’s all so wrong.

The car comes to a stop and she makes no move to get out, has no hint of even realizing we’re not moving anymore and I have to be the one who notices now, alone.

I reach forward, touching her hand gently and she jumps. Eyes that hurt a little when I look at them blinking at me, her shoulders dropping quickly as she returns from whatever far away place she was in.

I run my hand through her hair that’s getting darker, curling a piece behind her ear as I offer what I intend to be a hopeful smile. “Ready, kiddo?”

She nods, swallowing loudly and opens the door. A black umbrella does the same above us, rain dripping down it rhythmically as she grabs my hand and we walk up the steps of the church together.

“He was a great man, Rachel.”

“Wow, she looks so much like him.”

“I’m so sorry.”

The words continue to wash over me as I smile politely, accepting cups of tea, cards, flowers, shaking hands. Wondering if I have to do this all again, but with all the people who really knew him. Not that these people don’t…didn’t…know him.

I watch Joy wrap her arm around Cammie, steering her towards the door as Andrew comes up to me. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head and I steal a breath against his tie. The scent of familiar soap and detergent and I try not to think about all the ways I see Matt in him.

Stepping away from the hug, I avoid his eyes as he speaks quietly, a gravel to his words, “I think we’ll take Cam back home, Joy said she heard her mention being tired.”

I nod, and when he doesn’t retreat, I look up, not quite meeting his eyes as he squeezes my hands. “Rachel, you…are you okay? Are you sure going on this trip so soon after…” He shakes his head at a loss for words.

“I need to go Andrew, I need to work, I need to…”

My own words are lost at the sight of the man standing behind him. He’s wearing a suit I know he hates, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, back against the wall, staring at me and waiting.

Andrew turns to see what’s caught my attention and straightens with a disbelieving, “Joseph?”

He looks like he’s going to be sick when his gaze meets Andrew’s, and I know he’s seeing what I’ve been avoiding all day. But despite that, he pushes off of the wall, coming over with his hand out, body rigid as Andrew engulfs him in a tight hug. I can’t help but smile a little, only to immediately have to look away, the memories too painful.

“I’m so glad you came, son. Did you see Joy before she left?”

Joe shakes his head, he blinks rapidly before finally whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Andrew hugs him again, slapping his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Joseph. Stay at the house tonight,” he pauses, seeming to realize the command and adjusts his tone, if only slightly, “If you want, of course.” He nods his head back towards my direction, “Keep an eye on her for me, will ya?”

The words look like they’ve broken him.

But a small smile lifts his lips as he nods and looks away. Andrew kisses my cheek and leaves, disappearing out the doors and into the rain.

Joe and I stare at each other, a few last attendees gathering coats and dishes. I cross my arms and clear my throat, not quite sure what to say to your deceased husband’s best friend who you haven’t seen in years.

“It’s been a long time.”

He nods.

Joe blows out his breath, grabbing at the collar of his shirt and tugging. He looks around and squints as he asks, “Where’s Abby? Is…is…Cameron is she…” he trails off, taking a deep breath and loosening the knot on his tie.

I turn away from him, heading over to the table where people left casseroles, cards, and my new best friend - a bottle of scotch. I grab two glasses meant for the lemonade and sit. He follows me in silence and I give us each a large shot, sliding one across the wooden tabletop to him.

Joe’s thumb brushes down the glass, eyebrows pinched together. “It feels wrong to drink in a church. I can almost hear Matt’s-”

“Matthew’s not here.” I tip the drink back, swallowing all of it in a gulp. I swipe at my lips and pour more.

Joe looks up from the glass at me with a frown, drinking his own shot as I slide the bottle towards him.

I look around the room, ignoring the sting in my throat as I state, “Abby didn’t come.”

He stops mid pour, blinking at me, before continuing, a considerably bigger pour than the last.

I keep going, holding the glass up and staring at the amber liquid, “Cammie left with Joy, if that’s what you were trying to ask. She’s all grown up since the last time you saw her. Starting 7th grade in the Fall.”

He takes a small sip, nodding as his knee bounces up and down.

Joe’s knees don’t bounce. He doesn’t fiddle, he doesn’t stumble over his words. He’s really gone.

We each take another drink and he swallows loudly, and as the last person exits he looks up at me. “Is she going to…”

I shrug, pouring myself more. “I hope so. It’s up to her though.”

“Rachel…didn’t…I thought Matt and you…”

“Matt. Isn’t. Here.”

Joe’s hands go into his hair, and he breathes out of his nose, eyes closing. “Rachel. I know he isn’t. But, do you really think Cammie entering into this-”

“Don’t.”

“Rach-”

“Don’t Joe,” my words are watery, despite the threatening tone and I repeat it again, quietly, “Don’t.”

When I watch the green of his eyes turn darker, when I watch the slip of one tear fall past his lash line, and roll down his cheek, I shake my head at him.

He’s too fast though and he blurts it out, “Rachel, he wasn’t sure about her going. Really think about if you could do this for the rest of your life. Do you want-”

“I said don’t! Don’t act like you care! Don’t act like you know what he wants! Where were you Joe? Where have you been? Where is Matt?!” My chair clatters to the floor, palms smacking to the tabletop as my voice rises in a way it never has.

“Rachel…he’s…” Joe swallows harshly, his adam’s apple bobbing and he rips at his tie.

“He really is gone,” I whisper, chin trembling as I ask, “Isn’t he?”

Joe nods, staring at the glass of scotch, tears rolling down his cheeks. “There’s no trace. I tried. He’s gone. And I know he is, because no way he’d leave you and Cammie…there’s nothing that would keep him from coming home other than death.”

Everything is too tight, too warm, too wrong. It’s all so professional. It’s raining. It’s all so wrong. My dress is too tight and too black, my hair is clipped up in a way I never wear it. My tights have a run in them. My heels are too new and stiff.

Matt would have thoroughly hated today. He would have wanted us in jeans, he would have wanted us sitting at the farm, or playing pool at a horrible bar, sharing stories and beer. He would hate that there wasn’t any chocolate. He’d hate that Abby wasn’t here.

I unclip my hair and shake my head no, “He’s not. He could be…he’s not gone. He’s not.”

Joe stands carefully, voice quiet, “Rachel, please…”

I back away from him, kicking my shoes off and reach behind me, like I could try to wiggle out of my dress because it’s wrong. It has to be wrong.

“No, no, no.” I sob, gripping my stomach at the ache that hasn’t left for months. The missing calls, the holes in his stories, the paperwork that leads to nowhere. It’s all too much, and too wrong and I fall to the floor, sobs that have wanted to leave me forever finally breaking out of my chest, free. Snot and mascara running as he kneels and puts his arm around me.

I lean into his chest and just cry, for what could be hours. The rain pounds against the old wood siding and stained glass windows. Candles burn lower and dimmer and Joe just holds me in both of his arms. His tie and shirt are thoroughly ruined and the top of my hair is wet and we don’t say anything about it.

We don’t talk about it when we stand and clean up. We don’t say anything as we make our way down to the last car in the parking lot, or the drive to the farm Joe still knows the way to.

It’s not until we pull into the long gravel drive, past the red mailbox with ‘Morgan’ painted in white on the side that either of us makes a sound.

Joe lets out a low and shaky breath. His knuckles turn white as they grip the steering wheel and he looks up at the old ranch, lights off except for one on the second floor.

“She’s in his room.” I feel the need to clarify why his light is on, why that’s what’s there to greet us and he nods as he puts the car in park.

I hold my heels in my fingers, other hand on the door before I turn back to him and take a longer look.

He stares at the house, his jaw tense, covered in stubble that reminds me of when he was younger, but there’s lines of worry and laughter next to his eyes, traces of the years it’s been.

“Andrew was right, you should stay,” a small smile lifts the corners of my lips briefly, “If you want.”

Joe turns to me finally, and blinks. Green eyes roaming over my face slowly and he clears his throat, looking at the steering wheel. “Can’t. I’m sorry.”

I nod, already expecting that answer and I open the door, one foot out before I turn back to him.

“Don’t be a ghost this time, okay?”

“We’ll see each other,” he nods, “Promise.”

A slightly larger smile starts to form on my face, a little lightness returning to me as I ask, “I thought you didn’t make promises?”

He sighs, grabbing me in a hug. “I’ll always break my rules for the Morgans in my life.”

The hug, despite a console between us, feels like it’s been needed for years and I squeeze him back tightly, before clearing my throat and stepping out of the car. I close the door and start towards the front porch.

The sound of his window rolling down has me turning to look back though and Joe licks his lips, before he gives me a nod.

“Take care, Ace.”

I smile, rolling my eyes as a watery laugh leaves me, “You too, Wise Guy.”

Waving to each other, I don’t make my way up the steps until I see the red brake lights turn right at the mailbox, heading down the road.

“Mom?”

I jump, hand on my chest as I spin to face her. She stands behind the closed screen door, one of Matt’s sweatshirts engulfing her and I press my fingers to my lips, tears slipping past my lashes.

She steps out, wrapping her arms around my waist, my heels clattering to the porch as I wrap myself around her tightly. My hands drift lazily through her hair as she cries and eventually she wipes at her cheek, hiccuping. “Who was that?”

“Oh, just an old friend of your dad and I’s.”

Cammie pulls away a little and my palms cup her cheeks, and suddenly Matt’s eyes in her don’t bother me as much. I just want to stare at them for as long as I can, take her in exactly as she is in this moment and every moment. Run my hands through her hair that’s the same color as his every second. I want to study her and notice every little thing that is distinctly and wonderfully him in her features and personality.

“Do you have to go?” She whispers.

I smile sadly, nodding, as I curl a piece of her hair around her ear. “I do. But, after this…I won’t be gone as much. But I will be at my new job.”

“New job?”

“Remember how your dad and I talked to you about my school?”

She nods, and I can’t help but notice the little bit of hope that fills her eyes, the eagerness and curiosity and that of course she’d want to go.

I kiss her forehead before offering, “I’m going to be the Headmistress there, starting in the fall, and I wondered if you’d like to go to school there? You don’t necessarily have to do what your father and I do…did. It’s a great school, you’d get in to any college or job you want after. And we’d see each other all of the time.”

As she nods, I pull her in for another hug, hoping I’m making the right decision. I look up at the now clear night, the clouds parting to show off a sky filled with too many stars to count. It had stopped raining, and maybe it was his way of saying we’d be okay.

#gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #rachel morgan #joe solomon #matthew morgan #cw alcohol #cw death

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rockcandyshrike · 11 months

Text

I got tagged by @shih-coulda-had-it to do a lil meme game! I don’t know if it’s supposed to be my top 10 most repeated songs of all time or my top 10 most repeated songs at the moment, so I’ll do the latter bc it’s funnier!

1. “The Riders’ Lament” by Ryan Ike ft. Michael Garrett Steele

This is from the Wizard With A Gun Soundtrack! The demo just released and I’m obsessed with it. I wanna be a wizard who’s a cowboy, baby!

2. “Ladyfingers” by Herb Alpert’s Tijuana Brass

I’ve been playing the album Whipped Cream and Other Delights on loop for weeks now, I adore smooth jazz. The whole album, but especially this song, has big “Scene in a RomCom where the Couple Dances in the Kitchen” energy.

3. “L'amore dice ciao” by Armando Trovajoli from the movie La matriarca

Similar big “Scene in a RomCom where the Couple Dances in the Kitchen” energy, tho I read the synopsis for the movie and it’s about a widow exploring kinky sex, so...

4. “ Besame Mucho” covered by Cesaria Evora

BIG SRCCDK Energy. This singer’s voice is brimming with such beautiful and palpable longing. If you listen to this song, you will end up languishing upon a crushed velvet chaise lounge yearning for the love of your life.

5. “Maniac” by Conan Gray

I just think he’s neat! My sister told me he dropped out of UCLA which is bonkers to me.

6. “House of Wolves” by My Chemical Romance

lmao none of us can escape our emo roots

7. “Blue” from the Heathers Musical

...i have no explanation nor excuse. it’s just a damnably catchy song goddamnit /hangs my head in shame

8. “Matchmaker” from Fiddler on the Roof

IT SLAPS. I MAKE NO APOLOGIES. I’ve also never actually watched this film

9. “Anti-Hero” by Taylor Swift

Look.....that chorus goes off harder than it has any right to. It’s a good song, unfortunately.

10. "The Planets op. 32" by Gustav Holst performed by the NDR Radiophilharmonie and conducted by Andrew Manze

One of the best classical suites AND performances of all time; “Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity” is my favorite part and the most famous, you may have heard it before. I heard it for the first time watching the episode “Sleepytime” from Bluey which is, no fucking joke, an excellent cartoon w/ wonderful animation.

Tagging @egregiousderp @skinks @polarcell @spicedrobot @a-whale-bone @househarmonia @verditers and anyone else who want to do this!

#meme game

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the-chicken-or-the-banana · 2 years

Note

Okay, I know I've already sent asks (and made sure to pick the most difficult ones 😂) but this time it's the other way around. 2, 3, 11 and 17? Two of those are literally canon with Andreil 😂.

No pressure, of course!

~ Nem

ayyo these prompts are mad cute i can't thank you enough for picking them

2: interlocking pinkies

3: smiling into a kiss

11: back hugs

17: tugging on the bottom of someone's shirt

This was getting out of hand.

The flashing lights and pulsing bass did nothing to take Andrew's eyes off of Neil. Neil, who looked unbearably attractive in a tight black shirt at the bar. Neil, who's hair looked like a beacon in the middle of Eden's.

Neil, who was currently being flirted to death with by a stranger.

Said stranger was a little too Playboy-eque for Andrew's liking. Tall, curly black hair, muscular — he was basically the reverse-Exy version of Kevin (which made the hotness increase from the negatives to embarrassingly high).

Andrew gripped his glass so tightly he thought it might break. Actually, who care if it broke? He'd get glass shards in his hand, they'd have to call an ambulance, the club would clear out, Neil would come back, and Bar Bitch would get the hell away from Neil.

Maybe he was being a tad dramatic.

Taking a deep breath, Andrew tried to relax. This was fine. Neil could handle himself, and he knew Neil wouldn't act on any offers this guy made. Besides, Neil probably didn't even realize he was being flirted with; the man was incredibly oblivious. It would be fine. He was fine.

Andrew was just about calmed down — he was still staring at Neil just to make sure nothing happened, not at all because the lights were reflecting on the glitter on his cheek or anything — when his personal demon from Hell popped up.

"Watcha looking at?" Nicky plopped next to Andrew, his voice slurred from drinks. Andrew wrenched his neck away, but Nicky beamed when he saw the original target of Andrew's gaze. "OMG, so cute! Keeping an eye on your bae. That's so fetch."

"None of those words are in the Bible," Andrew grumbled. "Also, stop trying to make fetch happen, it's not going to happen."

Nicky giggled for long enough that it was weird. "Riiiiight, but currently you're literally too gay to function. So I win."

Andrew rolled his eyes and leaned back in the booth, deciding to ignore his highly drunk cousin. Nicky barely noticed, choosing to hum a random tune as he stared into the crowd. After what felt like hours of this, Andrew finally snapped. "Nicky. Shut the hell up."

"Nooooo," Nicky whined. "I'm like a siren. I'm luring your tiny little boyfriend here."

"He is not my— wait, what?"

"See?" Nicky waved in front of himself and slapped himself in the face. "He's right there!"

Andrew was a bit embarrassed at how fast his head turned.

Sure enough, there was Neil, in all his 5'3" glory. And there — there was Bar Bitch! Following Neil!

Andrew had just about had enough.

When Neil reached close enough to place the tray of drinks on the table, Andrew hooked his fingers in his belt loops and yanked Neil into the booth next to him. Resoutly ignoring Neil's startled intake of breath and Nicky's oddly hard kick to the leg, Andrew linked his pinky with Neil and delicately placed their hands on the table.

Subtle, yet effective.

Neil blinked at him in confusion, but Andrew only had eyes for Bar Bitch. He narrowed his eyes at the tall man, tightening his grip on Neil's finger, until the bitch threw his hands up and stumbled away.

Ha. Take that, asshole.

"What was that all about?" Neil nudged him softly.

"Nothing," Andrew ground out. "Absolutely nothing."

He didn't let go of Neil's pinky the rest of the night.

Andrew was a sucker for roof time with Neil; he couldn't deny it. What he wasn't a sucker for was Neil bringing sheets of plays and team stats during said roof time with Neil.

He tried to subtly hint to Neil that he wanted the Exy gone. He laid down on the roof, letting his hair cover the papers (Neil very gently brushed his hair away but continued reading). He placed his head on Neil's legs (Neil rubbed a calloused finger across Andrew's cheek but continued reading). He wiggled up into Neil's lap (Neil wrapped him in a warm embrace but continued reading. Even worse, Neil moved the papers into his line of sight, as if Andrew was interested).

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned forward and snatched the papers out of Neil's hand, throwing the sheets behind them. Neil blinked in surprise at his now-empty hand before looking over at Andrew. "What's wrong, Andrew?"

"Nothing," Andrew said, despite looking obviously annoyed. At Neil's unimpressed silence, Andrew sighed. "Stop ignoring me."

Andrew could practically hear Neil's eye roll.

"Yes or no, Drew?"

Just to be contrary, Andrew huffed out, "No. You can go back to your precious Exy."

He decided to ignore Neil's grumbles that suspiciously sounded like 'drama queen.' "I wasn't ignoring you. I wasn't," Neil insisted at Andrew's glare. "I was just... focusing on Exy at the moment."

"Make a choice, Neil. Exy... or me."

Neil looked a little too panicked at that for Andrew's comfort. "Uh... "

"The fact that you actually have to think about this is very telling," Andrew scowled.

"No, wait!" Neil shook his head frantically. "I mean... Exy is what got me to stop running, but you were what got me to stay. If I have Exy, I'll also always have you, and vice versa."

Andrew jammed a very fierce elbow into Neil's gut. He relished in the misery Neil was feeling. "That was more of a love letter to Exy than me."

"Oh, is that the problem?" the junkie annoyingly perked up. "I can definitely write a love letter to you. Where should I start? You have really pretty eyes, your hair is so soft, your arms are crazy strong, you— "

"Shut. Up."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Fine. But you'll have to make me."

Andrew barely held back a sigh and tried to calm his treacherous heart. "What, did you become the lead in a romcom when I looked away? That was so cheesy."

Neil just shrugged. "Did it work?"

"No," Andrew scowled. "Maybe. Yes or no?"

"Yes, alwa— "

Andrew cut Neil off with a kiss (no matter how bruised his tough-guy reputation was becoming now). He could feel Neil trying to smother a soft smile against his lips, and if Andrew had any shame left in him, he would be a bit embarrassed at how fast his heart starting beating when he realized that.

Because humans unfortunately needed oxygen, Neil pulled back a few moments later but stayed close enough that Andrew could smell the minty gum he had been chewing before they came up on the roof. "See? If you weren't so damn stubborn, we could have been kissing when I first asked you."

Ignoring this logic, Andrew pulled his the junkie back in for another kiss. He wondered in Neil could feel the small upturn on Andrew's lips too.

11.

This was just about the worst fucking day of Kevin Day's life, and it all started the day before.

He had been up for hours, starting with Exy at sun-up and ending with Exy at sundown. Except it didn't end with Exy, because he realized humanity was incompetent and then he was forced to catch up on a History essay his groupmates were behind on (5 hours after his detailed schedule!) and then he became too invested in the ruins of Mesopotamia and then he didn't sleep on time and then he missed his pre-alarm for his actual morning alarm and then he wasn't awake enough for his actual morning alarm and then—

Well.

Point was that Kevin was simultaneously cranky, sleepy, and frantically late, which is a shitty combination for anyone but especially for a person named Kevin Day. Which is to say that his perfectionist tendencies were starting to show their negative sides.

And to add company to misery, his fucking roommates had to be the absolute worst.

Kevin stumbled out of the bathroom (and crashed into three walls but that's neither here nor there) with a sock on his arm and one eye shut to make half his face feel rested when he came across the one thing that could possibly make his morning worse. As he sluggishly walked into the kitchen to get at least 3 cups of well-needed, strong-as-shit black coffee, he saw his two roommates directly blocking his access to the coffee pot.

Andrew was fiddling with the pot handle while Neil had his arms wrapped around his back. He was practically leaning all his body weight on Andrew and whenever Andrew murmured something to him quietly, Neil would give him his "Andrew-laugh" and somehow press in even closer. To make matters even sappier, every few seconds he would kiss Andrew — on the shoulder, neck, cheek, even going as far as to bring his hands up and kiss his knuckles!

It was disgusting. Kevin had never been more horrified to have these horribly-in-love-even-though-they-won't-admit-it-yes-he's-happy-they're-together-no-he's-not-happy-he-has-to-witness-this roommates.

Andrew and Neil were fully engrossed in their weird back-hug position, fully disregarding Kevin's coffee withdrawal. Irritated that he was being ignored, Kevin let out a highly unattractive noise that was half-groan, half-shriek, causing the two most hypervigilant people he'd known to jump apart. Except that Andrew was facing the counter so his diaphragm got fully smushed against it, causing the blond to let out an "oof" and Neil had open space behind him so he flailed around until he eventually fell onto his butt on the floor with a groan.

Massaging his stomach, Andrew turned a terrifying glare towards Kevin, who was suddenly waking up enough to realize how bad of an idea this was. Kevin slowly backed away, his hands up in a placating manner.

"Don't mind me," Kevin said. "Keep hugging or whatever. I'll just... go to Matt's room and get coffee."

Stumbling out of his dorm, Kevin crashed his way into Matt, Nicky, and Aaron's room, where Nicky was sitting on the couch on his laptop.

He winced when he saw Kevin zombie-walk to the coffee machine. "Andrew and Neil sexile you?"

As the machine whirred, Kevin groaned. "Something like that. Honestly, the two of them are so affectionate in the morning, it makes me sick."

At that, Nicky's eyes widened. "They're what?! Tell me everything."

Kevin sighed. Maybe he should get a second cup of coffee going.

17.

Neil didn't notice the cats until Andrew pointed them out.

The two of them were on a walk walking back over the hill in front of the Fox Tower after their classes. Andrew had made it a habit to pick Neil up after his Spanish class and his own Sociology class every Thursday, and the two of them would drop their stuff off at the dorms and go out to lunch together.

It was very nice, to put it lightly.

Andrew's hand was warm where it was threaded with Neil's, swinging lightly between their bodies. The two were so close to each other that Neil could feel their shoulders brush every few steps, could practically count every faint freckle on Andrew's cheeks if he wanted to.

So he did just that.

"Staring," Andrew glared.

"Yeah," Neil said shamelessly. "You like it."

Andrew squeezed Neil's hand. It was probably more out of annoyance than adorance, but he'd take it.

"You know, in class today," Neil started, mainly so he could hear Andrew's voice when he responded. "This absolute bit— ow!"

Unexpectedly, Neil promptly fell down.

"Typical," Andrew grumbled. "He can come back alive after being tortured by a serial killer but can't walk straight."

"To be fair, it's not like you walk any straighter than me."

After an appraising moment, Andrew shrugged.

Neil finally moved himself into a sitting position while Andrew watched with sheer disappointment oozing out of him. He tied his undone shoelace and was just getting up when he felt a sharp tug on his shirt.

Neil looked at Andrew in confusion, but Andrew had his sights set on something in the distance. Naturally, instead of explaining, he began dragging Neil, who was still halfway bent-over from tying his shoe.

"Andrew!" Neil yelped. "Do you want to let me know where we're going?"

"No."

Fair enough. Neil should have expected that.

Finally, after his shoes untied yet again from the stumbling he did over the hill, Neil finally saw what had caught Andrew's attention. There was a sign advertising a nearby cat adoption, with the directions showing it to be only about 5 minutes away.

Andrew tugged on Neil's shirt again. "We're going."

Neil blinked. "We can't have pets in the dorm."

"We'll sneak them in, it's not like we've never broken the law before."

"Kevin is going to lose his shit."

"You just incentivized me even more."

Neil had to bite back a smile at that. "Fine, fine, we'll visit. But we are not adopting any animals until we can figure out the rules."

"Eh," Andrew turned around, twisting his fingers into Neil's shirt so he'd follow the blond. "I can be very convincing."

"Andrew."

"Neil."

"We are not getting a cat."

"Nah."

"You can't just— Andrew!"

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originalvampireprincess · 2 years

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Hi everyone, this is a small oneshot written by a friend of mine. It is an oc x edward fic, hope you like it. :)

Edward and andrew would often sneak out late in the night, where they could roam freely on the dusty spring soil, looking up at the stars once in a while. Andrew loved music, she had been talking to Edward about some late night underground rock concerts in the area. Rock wasn't really up Edwards ally, what he enjoyed more is the energy and nature of the concerts while Andrew would sit there and observe the bass players fingers slide across the fretboard like the wind against the trees. It was an unusual style of playing but it intrigued her, making her want to learn bass some day too. They arrive at the event and after paying a small fee entered the spacey, almost sewer-like room. They usually saw a lot of post punk bands play, Edward liked the dark, grim and heavy lyrics that would come out of the singers monotone yet soothing voice while Andrew liked how there was a big emphasis on the bass guitar in these songs. But something was different.

Something was off about the whole venue, the crowd was yelling, most of them had leather jackets on and spiked hair. They quickly realized that tonight there was no post punk band playing their gloomy and dark tunes, but the hardcore punk band "Choking Victim". Edward loved the sound of that, the energy in the room was up to the roof and the band hadn't even made the stage yet. It went dark. You could only hear static coming from the speakers but then it suddenly stopped. Andrew wasn't so sure about this, she'd never been into heavy music. The light shined on the band and revealed 4 tattooed, skinny and clearly drunk men hit the stage. The bassist lays his hand on the string and from the first slap we could feel the vibrations running through us. The bassline started and everyone around started jumping around, spilling their booze all over the other crowd members. They were in the middle of it all, but Edward got a rush and started jumping along while andrew couldn't move.

She experienced the biggest wave of culture shock she'd ever gotten before but before long she also started jumping along to the grooves of the rattling bass. Suddenly the frontman yells out "OPEN THE PIT!" Andrew was terrified, she'd heard about moshpits before but she'd never been so close to one. She turned to Edward to see how he's handling it but he's nowhere to be seen, out of her sight. By the periphery of her eye she notices that shiny white skin and dark brown hair. Edward's run into the pit. Andrew was so stunlocked, she was standing at the edge of the pit, mere inches away from the carnage. Edward jumping and pushing, notices Andrew staring him down at the edge of the pit. In pure extacy he rushes up to her and pulls her in. Andy's heart felt like it was gonna burst into two. Edward let go of her and she started to panic, so to get to him she started pushing everyone away, while also being pushed by the big punkheads in the pit. She felt a rush she had never felt before.

Before she knew it she was moshing with the punk crowd and was feeling fine with it. She was a taller woman so she wouldn't get knocked down so easily. Her shirt had a rip below the ribs but she payed it no attention. The adrenaline she got in the moment felt like she's seen a part of the world unknown to her at the time. She was exhausted, it was her first time in a pit and after the 4th song she had to step out. Her and Edward, after shouting for minutes on end, agreed to step out of the venue for tonight. She guided him through the busy crowd, gripping him by the wrist. They finally got out, the air had never felt so fresh. Andrew didnt notice but she was still holding Edward by the hand, she hadn't let go that entire time. She didnt pull her hand away, however gripped Edwards hand even harder. She felt warm, not wanting to let go, starting to feel something inside her. Andy had too many questions but would rather have had them unanswered. So she held it even longer.

Layed out on the grass, looking up, grasping their hands together. Andrew never thought she'd feel like this for someone. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, they just wouldn't let go. Andrew sits up on the grass, feeling almost hung over. She looks over at Edward who just sat up as well. As the moonlight shined on them and the tension grew higher, this starry night would never be forgotten by them. Andrew, while softly holding Edward's hands in his, leans in. With closed eyes they get closer to each others faces. Their soft lips are touching. Andrew felt as if she's become super aware of everything, every nerve of her body working on overdrive. It was more than perfect, like a little piece of heaven. The only she would want at this moment is for it to last forever.

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schantzscribbles · 2 years

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I like to imagine Andrew Garfield minding his own business doing whatever, sleeping, reading, gardening, and then out of nowhere he just gets a chill down his spine and says to himself, "another religion based biopic needs me," and then he just teleports onto set.

#andrew garfield #under the banner of heaven #the eyes of tammy faye #silence #hacksaw ridge #slaps roof of andrew #this baby can fit so much religious trauma

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ghostselena · 2 years

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Babe, I'm literally Spider-Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron X Reader

Summary: Rafe bought a Spider-Man suit, making it his mission to annoy you throughout the day

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Rafe being a dork, dirty moments, fluff, 18+

a/n: Ohhh I wanted to make this longer but I might turn this into like 2-3 parts just because I was inspired by this one tik tok that said, "imagine him in a Spider-Man suit" and I just had to write this out. This is slightly edited as well :) this was also the story where I tried to photoshop rafe for two weeks straight and just gave up lmao

Dont post this anywhere as yours, please, and thank you. Enjoy!

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"Rafe, I swear to god." Your annoyed voice echoed around the living room, your eyes following his movements

The sound of your boyfriend jumping around each individual couch cushion driving you insane. He decided to buy himself a Spider-man suit after your latest movie night, He was determined to make you watch each and every single movie from scratch.

"You gotta understand the storyline, the movie won't make sense if you don't." he'd say, crossing his arms as you huffed, empty popcorn bowl in hand before standing up to refill it for what felt like the 10th time, you were only on the third movie, his excitement blowing through the roof to show you Andrew Garfield's movie.

Not only that, he'd taken you to watch the new spider-man movie over 6 times at the theater since it came out.

"Babe, my hands feel tingly and shit, what if I'm the next Spider-man?" He argues, shaking the silly string can before spraying you with it for the third time today, a big childish smile on his face

You closed your eyes, the white string spraying itself all over your face and hair. Taking in a deep breath you get up, leaving the room and into the kitchen where he followed, mask in hand

"I'm gonna beat you with a stick if you step any closer, Rafe," Your hands were pressed against the counter, a chuckle coming from him, arms wrapping themselves around your waist, "Dont be like that, give me a kiss,"

"Rafe."

"Babe, just a smooch," He whined, pressing his lips to the side of your neck, slowly making his way up to your cheeks, leaving them there, setting down the mask on the counter to trap you from leaving.

"I'm not giving you no smooch," Your voice mumbled as you pressed your face against your shoulder, avoiding his lips, turning around and pressing your hands against his chest, pushing him back softly.

Giving in to him was dangerous, very dangerous when he felt soft.

"Missing out," he states, pulling away from you, hands slowly sliding down your body, hand slapping your ass before turning away, winking back towards you as he left the kitchen.

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Not even 30 minutes later, he was jumping onto this small trampoline he had bought to practice his backflips, sending you into what felt like your third cardiac arrest in the past 5 minutes.

You knew he was doing this on purpose, the only way to grab your attention after annoying you was doing this, and dammit was it working.

"RAFE! you're gonna break your damn neck," You yelled, anxiously sitting back on the pool's lounge chair.

He was a 5-year-old stuck inside a 19-year-old boy's body. As mad as you wanted to be towards him for doing dumb stunts, you just couldn't. Growing up in Sarah's shadow took away so many moments with his dad, you'd learn to-

"RAFE!" you interrupted your own thoughts as he fell onto the floor, the yoga mat you placed just in case protecting his dumb ass, literal ass, a groan followed by the sudden fall.

"Babe, I think I broke my back,"

"No shit. It looked like it hurt Rafe, let me take a look," You got down on your knees, carefully zipping down the costume from his body, your eyes scanning in every direction possible, not a single bone looked out of place, at least you hoped you were right

"Jeez, take me on a date first," He joked, the cool air caused him to shiver slightly, a smirk on his face as he thought to himself, his plan worked.

"I think we should go to the hospital, just in case," You sigh, sliding his costume back up and sitting next to him, placing your head on your knees, eyeing him slowly.

His hair was slicked back, cheeks with a hint of red and sweat running down his forehead, he looked so innocent, yet you knew he was far, very far from it in other things.

"I think if you kiss me it'll make it better,"

"I don't think-"

His lips were on you before you could finish, his arms pulling you on top of his lap to keep you still. You gave up on teasing him, your lips melting against his, your hands ran through his hair, gripping it in your hands, a soft grunt coming from his mouth

You smirked against his lips, teasingly grinding down against him, his hand coming down to swat against your ass, making you jump at the sudden smack, "Stop that." He groans, hands holding onto your thighs tightly

"Hm, why should I?" you ask, your hands roaming his chest, feeling every inch, hidden away by the thin material, "Cause, you shouldn't start something you can't finish,"

"Try me."

Your words were enough for him, pulling you up with him and throwing you over his shoulder swiftly, a squeal leaving your body as he walked up the stairs towards his room, "Careful what you wish for, y/n."

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The rest of your day was filled with enough activities to keep you sore for the next few days.

a now calm and content Rafe was laying on your thighs, your hand running through his hair gently as he relaxed against your touch.

Now, where were we? You've learned to deal with Rafe's mood swings, which happened very often. But once he explained the way his father would treat him as he grew up, you devoted yourself to love him for the way was, and instead of pushing him away, you helped him.

Instead of letting him go out to drink by himself, you'd tag along, if he invites you on this occasion of course. Drink Mai tais together and his friends, a calm and joyful environment surrounded the four of you. Kelce and Topper have also learned to be better towards the pogues because they too were friends of Sarah. Any friends of hers were also your friends, and Rafe's, even if he hated the idea of it.

That never stopped you though, in the two years that you've dated Rafe, no one could calm him the way you did when it came to a brawl between his friends and the pogues.

A kiss against your leg brought you back from your thoughts, bright blue eyes staring back at you with a sleepy smile, "Hey there,"

"Well, don't you look handsome,"

He kept the suit on through everything, deciding to tease you one last time before taking it off to rest.

After he woke up from his calming nap against your leg, he was back to running around the house freely, enjoying the trust his parents dad gave him to take care of it while away on a trip.

You followed his movement with your eyes as he jumped around each couch, landing next to you, pressing his lips on yours, and pulling back before you could react, a wide grin on his face.

"I fucking love you,"

You pressed your hands against his cheek gently, squishing them playfully, "and I love you, dork."

"Mm, have my babies,"

"What?"

"Like right now?"

"Huh? no-no, I mean you can, if you wanna but I was just saying just in case you-"

"Maybe in two years,"

"Deal." He smiled, pulling you on top of him and pressing his lips against yours once more, enjoying the warmth that it brought him inside

You happily kissed his lips, sighing contently against them, wrapping your arms around his neck, "You know, I technically did shoot out a white web out of my body today," Rafe mumbles in between your kisses, making you pull back and stare at him in confusion

"What do you mean?"

He just stared at you with the biggest smirk, waiting for you to realize as you just stare at him with a confused look, "You know."

What could he mean by that? A white web out of his- pause.

You smack his shoulder once you register what he meant, your cheeks bright red from embarrassment, "You're so annoying, shut up." You say, hiding your face against his shoulder, laughing quietly,

"Make me"

"Rafe."

"Hmm?"

Grabbing his mask that he'd drop next to you on the couch, you slide it on and turn around to make your way up the stairs quickly, not before telling Rafe, "Only if you catch me,"

With Rafe right behind you as you ran, all that could be heard throughout the house were screams, squeals, and nothing but a strong aura of love for one another

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mrshipsmcgee · 2 years

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In Another Universe Part 2

Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker x Reader

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

Please don’t read if you haven’t watch NWH yet!

a/n: Thank you so much for reading!! It’s been years since I’ve written fanfiction. But I’ve hyper fixated on Andrew Garfield yet again lol pls enjoy <3

What I listen to on repeat lol

Summary: weeks after your first run in with Spider-Man, your thoughts run wild about who the man under the mask is.

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It had been three weeks since Spiderman saved you in the alley way from the Green Goblin. And it’s been three weeks since you’ve been able to keep Spider-Man out of your head.

Who was that amazing man that saved you?

Did he have a girlfriend? Or a wife? Do superhero’s even date?

Is wanting to date Spiderman absolutely ridiculous and probably never going to happen?

You huffed, walking back behind the bar to serve.

“MJ!” One of your regulars slurred, slapping his hand on the wooden bar top, making the surrounding drinks shake. The remaining few people at the bar lay their dollar bills down and leave.

His two friends cheered him as he did yet another shot, then smacking the bar again.

“Woah, Derrick - calm it down. You’re scaring away my customers man! We do close in 20 minutes though, can I get you your bill?,” you ask sweetly, hoping he won’t cause any chaos like he has in the past.

“MJ, baby. Doll face,” he spoke loudly, “How about I go home with you tonight and I can pay for my bill that way?” His eyes matched your gaze, then started undressing you with his eyes. His friends giggled.

Uncomfortable, you roll your eyes and walk away with his bill and card, not realizing he has following behind you. He leans the front of his body against you, “MJ, let me go home with you baby girl. My boys don’t care.”

You turn quickly, pointing a ball point pen and check in his face, “Derrick, if you dont sign this check and get out of my face I’m going to lose my mind. Bye.” He takes the check, quickly signs it and leaves.

Its 2 AM finally and you find yourself in your alley way yet again to decompress after work. But your decompressions have turned into lingering thoughts about the masked man from three weeks ago. You wondered what he was doing. Was he fighting crime or watching Parks and Rec on his sofa? You wondered what he looked like under that mask. You wondered if it was possible that he was thinking of you too.

“MJ” you turn, seeing Derrick and his two friends from the bar approaching you, somehow more drunk than they all were when you had last seen them. Derrick immediately grabs your arms in his hands and shakes you a bit, “why are you so hard to get?”

“Derrick, go home!” You yell, annoyed by this man disturbing your peace. “I don’t want you! I don’t want to take you home! Go away or I’ll tase you and your friends!”

“What’s a taser going to do to me, MJ?” Derrick teases, moving closer to you again, “What good is this taser going to do?”

He quickly snatches your right wrist in his firm grip, starting to drag you away from your home, “You’ll come home with me then MJ. Since you’re so stubborn.”

His friends just laugh, following behind you.

“Stop!” You scream, punching him with your left hand and trying to throw yourself on the ground. He struggles, but then throws you over his shoulder. You start to cry realizing that Derrick is much stronger than you.

“Stop!” You yelled again.

“She said stop,” a familiar voice yelled from on top of a building.

It was him.

Spider-Man quickly landed gracefully right in front of Derricks path, standing up straight, “Put her down immediately.”

Derrick laughs, “Spider-guy! I thought you retired,” he retorted, quickly squeezing on the back of your thigh.

“Nope,” Spider-Man hissed, shooting a web at Derricks feet - making him fall; while simultaneously shooting a web to pull you into his arms.

His two friends charge the two of you. Spider-Man shoots a web and pulls the both of you up to the roof for safety. He gently sits you down on the roof of the building, “MJ, I’ll be right back. Let me go deal with these guys.” He threw himself backwards from the roof, swinging through the alley way and webbing all three of the drunk guys to the brick wall for the cops to find.

He seamlessly landed on the roof beside you, quietly looking at the moon along with you. “We have really got to stop meeting like this,” he teases. You turn to him, facing your entire body towards him. “Thank you for saving me yet again. Is this going to be an every three weeks kind of a thing?” You both giggle, now looking at each other.

You sigh, looking at the hero beside you. He turns his body towards you, “I-“ you both say, then giggle again. He motions towards you, “you first.” You motion back towards him, “No, you first - that was totally rude of me.”

He looks at you, wanting to tell you everything that he found out months ago. But what would you say? Could you handle it? Would you even want to consider being with someone like Spider-Man?

“I need to get something off of my chest,” you say in a quick hushed tone, “but I don’t want you to be weirded out, because it’s a lot.”

Spider-Man shifts closer towards you, not touching you, but close enough to feel his warmth, “it’s hard for a weird person to be weirded out.”

“Well..” you nervously trail off. You have Spider-Man’s undivided attention. He leans closer, “You don’t have to share if you don’t want-“

“I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. You feel so familiar. I - I know, I know sound crazy.. but I literally haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for weeks now. And I don’t even know what you look like. And you probably think I’m crazy now. I’m so sorry Spider-“

Spider-Man stands up and walks away from you, hands on his hips he looks out towards the city for a few moments. Your stomach drops. He probably thinks you’re crazy.

“MJ,” he sighs, walking closer towards you and sitting back down, “call me by my name..”

Your stomach drops again, looking up at his face as his hands grow closer to the brim of his mask, watching him as he pulls it off.

You gasp, staring at the gorgeous brown eyed man sitting in front of you. His sweaty brown hair somehow perfectly messy. He was more beautiful than you could have imagined.

His heart raced, baring so much of himself to you.

His MJ.

“I’m Peter Parker,” he says, a tearful smile on his handsome face, “It’s so nice to finally say that to you.”

Thank you guys so much for reading, be on the look out for a part three. Please reach out if you’d like to be added to my tag list you beautiful babies - C <33

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

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andrewsleftknee · 3 years

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i somewhat agree with the extra content that Neil and Andrew don’t say ‘i love you’ because of how their relationship is and there are other ways to show love than verbally. but, i do think there are special occasions where they do verbalize their love for each other.

so here are some moments where Neil and Andrew say ‘i love you’:

• Neil is the first to verbally express his love. it’s the one year anniversary of the events in Baltimore, and Neil found it very hard to get out of bed for his morning run. Andrew noticed immediately that it was going to be a hard day, and by the end of the day, they both just wanted to go to sleep. Neil asked if Andrew could sleep in his bed with him, and Andrew hesitantly agreed. by the time that he was ready for bed, Neil was nearly asleep. Andrew debated on going to sleep in his own bed, but Neil groaned and held his hand out for Andrew to join him. once Andrew was settled, Neil whispered a quiet “yes or no?” to which Andrew nodded. Neil intertwined his fingers with Andrew and whispered a soft “i love you” quietly enough where Andrew wasn’t completely sure if he had heard him right, but he ran his thumb over the back of Neil’s hand as the room settled back into silence. Andrew didn’t know how to feel. love was such an unknown concept to him.

• Andrew was consistently anxious whenever Aaron had to appear in court for his trial. Neil was always stuck by Andrew, staying up with him to smoke and drink on the roof of PSU until the nerves temporarily subsided. but now, Aaron’s trial was officially over, and Andrew wasn’t entirely sure how he should feel about it. Neil could tell that something was wrong, but he didn’t push Andrew to talk about it. Andrew summoned Neil to the roof, telling Kevin that their night practice wasn’t happening that night. when on the roof, they shared cigarettes and kisses before Andrew grabbed Neil by the collar, pulling him in nearly close enough to kiss him, and told him he loved him. Neil swallowed hard and nodded in response. they went back to smoking and staring off at their dark campus.

• it was a grueling game in Neil’s junior year. at half time they were down by three, and the opposing team had an entirely new line up. Neil, in a desperate attempt to close the gap, asked Andrew to shut down the goal. Andrew did, only letting one goal in in the second half, causing the Foxes to win the game. Neil turned to Andrew, ignoring his teammates, and saw him looking back at him. Neil thrusted his racquet at the Foxes sophomore striker, and ran towards Andrew. they had grown from asking ‘yes or no?’ but Neil asked because they were in public. Andrew agreed, and Neil pulled him into a hug, and said into Andrew’s ear: “i fucking love you.” Andrew slapped his back signaling Neil to back off, but he didn’t look upset when Neil met his eyes. Andrew pointed at their celebrating team behind them, silently telling him to join them.

• the second reunion between the monsters and the upperclassman they decided to play a game similar to truth or dare, but if you back out, you have to take a shot. after a few rounds most of the Foxes were drunk save for Renee, who respectfully sat out, and Andrew. Nicky looked to Andrew and asked him if he wanted a truth or a dare. Neil didn’t expect Andrew to play along, but to his surprise, Andrew asked for a dare, and Nicky’s face lit up. “tell Neil that you love him,” which elicited whoops and shouts from the Foxes. Andrew took a shot in response to which the shouts turned into boos. Nicky’s eyes went to Neil, and Neil shrugged. Nicky asked why Neil wasn’t upset by it, and Neil responded by saying “i know how i feel about him, and he can feel whatever he wants about me.” Andrew stood up, pressed a soft kiss into Neil’s hair, made eye contact with Nicky, and walked to the front door to walk to his own dorm. when Neil returned that night, Andrew said that he did love him, and Neil said it back.

#aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #andrew x neil #andriel #aftg headcanon #aftg hc

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fantasyismyshit · 2 years

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NWH SPOILERS!!!!!!

The spoiler ban is lifted so I'm going to go on a rant about Spiderman: No Way Home. First of all, let me start off with how the movie treated Andrew and Tobey's arc. They weren't there just for the sake of the multiverse or the clout but their characters had the same depth that we saw in their own respective movies. As a fan, this movie felt like a warm hug and a slap across the face all at the same time, seeing my childhood heroes share the screen together and then saying goodbye to them all in a matter of minutes was probably one of the most overwhelming cinema experiences I've had. Now let's talk about the chemistry between Peter and MJ, we saw them in homecoming as just casual friends and then we progressed onto mutual pining and then finally saw them in a relationship together in far from home. This movie was different, you see both of them being in a relationship when everything around them is chaotic, I loved those few stolen moments they show, the video calls and the roof and everything else it's all so human and vulnerable to me something I felt that Tobey's Peter and MJ ( Mary Jane) lacked. My favorite part of the movie though was the ending and as gut-wrenchingly sad it was, it was also the exact thing that MCU Peter needed. Watching the sketch of his new suit splayed out on his small desk and the stitching machine and everything else about the end shot was...I don't know how to describe it but it was the most Peter Parker I've seen him. If Marvel doesn't make another Spiderman movie I think they're missing an incredible opportunity to give us the Spiderman that we've always wanted and we're so close. Peter is alone now, he has no one and no money and I don't know about you but that seems like a new begging to me much rather an ending. There is so so much in this movie that I wanna talk about like Andrew's Peter saving MJ and Tobey ( I'm just gonna refer to them by the actor's name now) stopping Tom from impaling Norman with the glider and Ned having magic and the credit scene. Each and every scene of this movie felt so personal that I just want to gatekeep this forever and keep it to myself, it reminded me of being five and crying over Harry Osborn dying and then being seven and crying again over Gwen and now I'm sixteen and I'm crying over the fact that this may be a goodbye to my first and my favorite comfort character. I don't think I'll ever be ready to say goodbye.

EDIT: I DIDN'T TALK ABOUT MAY'S DEATH BECAUSE I'M PLANNING ON MAKING ANOTHER POST FOR IT

#can you guess that I cried writing this #nwh #spiderman #spider-man #peter #parker #peterparker #peter parker #tom holland #nwh promo #jacob batalon #spiderman 3 #spider man no way home #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #tasm #make tasm 3

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internetcowboi · 2 years

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Six Sentence Sunday

hi hey hello! thank you for the tags @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @johnwgrey @confused-bi-queer!

I was digging around in the docs and found the start of an abandoned snowbaz fluff/pwp that I might finish:

I stare down at my tea, flicking my eyes up on occasion. He bounces around the kitchen, cracking eggs into a pan and slapping bacon on to a tray in the oven.

“What’s the occasion?” I mumble. His tail is whipping around his calves. If Simon weren’t already terrible at hiding his excitement, his tail would be a dead giveaway. I love how he wears his heart on his sleeve. (I love that he doesn’t know he does.)

He spins, grinning. “It’s Saturday.”

I raise an eyebrow. “It is.”

“So… You don’t have class.”

I hum in agreement. “Where is this going, Snow?”

He stares at me, mouth twisting again- this time in frustration. I sigh and stand, pacing around the counter until we’re inches apart. My hands snake around his shoulders, and he leans his chest into mine. I can feel the skin of his bare thigh brush against mine. (I sleep in pajama shorts- I’m not a heathen.) (Well.)

aaand I’ve got some sentences from my notes app for an Andreil one-shot I’ve been wanting to work on where Neil tells Andrew about what Nicky did the first night at Eden’s- it’s been done before by other writers, but I still wanted to explore it in my own little brain:

Andrew’s jaw clenched and he spoke through clenched teeth. "I would never-"

"I know that," Neil cut in. "You were protecting your own. I’d have done the same."

"I'm going to kill him," Andrew said. His voice had an eerie calm about it, like he’d resigned himself to the inevitability of it. Neil believed him.

"I can handle it, Andrew. It's fine."

Andrew stood abruptly, hurling his cigarette over the edge of the building. He stormed to the roof door and kicked it, hard. Once, twice, three times with the steel toe cap of his boot.

tags! happy sunday :) @martsonmars @snowybank @tea-brigade @sillyunicorn @ileadacharmedlife @amywaterwings @bazzybelle @aristocratic-otter @creepyspice @fatalfangirl @urban-sith @excalisbury @stardustasincocaine @excalisbury @themandilorian @moodandmist <3

#six sentence sunday #keegan writes

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twirlingflurry · 3 years

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love your hcs!!!! do you think you write one about the legacy neil left at palmetto and with the foxes. like he goes back when wymack retires. and next to where he carved his and andrews initials into the bed post just before andrew left, there’s other foxes initials and he sort of unknowingly created a tradition. or like eventually he gets his old exy racquet back from the cops and it sits at the court and before a game he slapped it so so did the rest of the team and has become a team ritual

hi anon - thank you so much! sorry for the delay, this week has really been something skhdskgjhd but i hope you enjoy <3 i had lots of fun with this :)

years down the line, wymack is retiring (dan will be taking over for him)

neil and andrew are still playing pro together, but there’s a lull in their training and it’s nearing the end of the collegiate exy season, so they drive to palmetto together

andrew says he’s only going because he doesn’t want to have to deal with the cats alone

“you were alone with them for two weeks last year”

andrew pretends he doesn’t hear him

and then neil and andrew are standing outside wymack’s apartment, unannounced, and he grumbles that “at least you didn’t break in this time” but there’s fondness in his tone and he ushers them in

they have a night of comfortable chatter and silences, and andrew grabs the alcohol from the same cabinet it’s always been in. it’s familiar, and neil falls asleep on wymack’s couch with a smile on his face and andrew curled up on top of next to him

and the next day, neil and andrew go to fox tower, and they walk the stairs that they know as well as they know each other

they get to the third floor, and a small group of foxes is leaving their dorm room, the one that used to belong to neil and andrew, when they see the two and just. freeze.

it’s nothing new to be recognized by fans, but it’s weird for it to happen somewhere that feels like home. they tolerate it and ask if they could go into their old dorm room

the young foxes scramble to let them in and frantically pick up clothes and throw away trash to give the room some semblance of tidiness. neil and andrew don’t care

the bean bag chairs are gone, but there are still faint ash stains on the windowsill, and the crystal-clear memories of long since faded moments wash over neil

they drift over to the bedroom, and the young foxes leave them be as they silently make their way to the bunk. neil gingerly sits down onto his old mattress, andrew right beside him

andrew catches neil’s attention by tracing the carvings of their initials on the bed post, then trailing his finger down an array of other scrawled letters below. other initials, carved by foxes who came after them, and a smile ghosts over neil’s face because,,, he stopped running and he left solid evidence behind and people actually continued it after he was gone ?? and it’s such a weird thought but he loves it

he asks the young foxes if there’s anything else that continued after he left

they show him the roof, fitted with new locks that have also since been sabotaged. it looks like their secret spot was less secret than they thought, but at least someone’s still enjoying it

they proudly demonstrate how they’ve all memorized neil’s riko roast which baffles him because that was never even televised ?? where did they hear it ????

andrew ofc will never tell him that he transcribed it when nicky asked him to. he doesn’t even really know why he listened, so there’s no way he’s ever going to try to explain it to neil

all of them have orange bandanas, which is a tradition that started neil’s second year and has apparently continued ever since

they don’t know that that’s where it started so they don’t mention it, but neil noticed from games

they take neil and andrew to the court and show them the two lucky racquets (the drake one they got back from evidence when the case was closed and the one andrew used to shatter riko’s arm) and they all absent-mindedly tap them on their way in

it used to be a thing the foxes would only do before games, but slowly spread to. every single time they go to the court

apparently it’s also become custom for them to link arms on to way back to the bus after games, after neil’s kidnapping from binghampton

it took a while for them to get the order of the line right bc if they’re not careful, their attempt at keeping each other safe becomes a fist fight

bonus (not one of neil’s legacies): dan’s photo wall continues! they don’t ever take down pictures of the older foxes, just keep squeezing more pictures in. it expands beyond only one wall to every wall of the foyer, and they’re still having trouble finding room. sometimes they have to pile photos on top of each other

they also mention that movie nights are still a thing! they’re bi-weekly, and they always try to find a classic movie that at least one of the foxes has never seen bc of a shitty childhood

night practices are also still happening. not everyone goes every night, but a couple of the keeners do

“junkies”

neil is,,, stunned, honestly. he didn’t ever imagine he could have this concrete of an impact, didn’t think he could keep existing in a place even after he left it

before, he’d never wanted to be remembered. the idea slowly became more bearable over the years, but this is,,, he never expected anything like this

it’s overwhelming and it’s wonderful and he loves it

and later that night, neil and andrew go up to their rooftop (there are two young foxes up there that scurry away as soon as they realize who stepped onto the roof)

and as they look out over the city, hands linked, neil’s heart feels so light and he can’t get rid of - doesn’t want to get rid of - the smile that seems to be glued to his face, even through the pang of nostalgia - another new feeling

and neil and andrew sit under the comforting blanket of the night and talk into the darkness

just like old times

and it’s comfortable and familiar and once upon a time, neil wished that it would never end

but now? now, neil knows that while he may leave,,, this will never end. not really

as he sits under the stars next to the man with whom he will spend the rest of his life, neil knows the memories and whispers of the past live on through love and legacies

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