#which is stil tall

[jmliebert]

♡ when Aemond has a crush on you ♡ (modern) headcanons

he hides it well; Aemond is not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. At first, it's hard to tell he has a crush on you because he is cold and seems indifferent. he observes, weights his options

he keeps his distance at first; both emotionally and physically. his behaviour might even make you think he hates you, though it's quite the opposite of course, he just have problems with showing his feelings :((

but (!) his piercing gaze always finds you. his eye follows you discreetly, hungry and restless

when he's near you, his body language is a mix of nervousness and inner pride. he wants to please you which is a weird feeling for Aemond, so his fingers may fidget a little, but still; he stands tall

he quickly learns your daily routine and starts showing up in places you frequent. these "coincidental" meetings are his way of staying close without being too obvious (in his head at lest)

you quickly learn he uses a lot of sarcasm, but you learn to enjoy this side of his, actually he's quite funny

if you ask him for a favour, he might act like it's a bother, but he always does it, despite his outward coldness

sooo.... as you can see he's a little lost, unsure, but(!) this one time when his brother Aegon makes crude, inappropriate joke about you, Aemond's anger flares and that's when he truly realises his feelings for you may run deeper than he'd like to admit

Aemond tries to be more straight-forward at this point. he assist you whenever he can, subtly offering help here and there, giving you this little smirks of his

he often asks you random questions about your life (often very specific), wanting to know everything about you and it's quite endearing that he's so focused on you

stil he respects your space! or at least tries to. he doesn't want to intimidate you or make you uncomfortable with his presence (most of the time), even though being near you all the time is what he would prefer

he spent many sleepless nights analysing your conversations and overall every aspect of you

long walks; during those you talk about trivial things and deeper subjects like psychology, philosophy, or your favourite books and movies. Aemond is silently enjoying when you put your hand on his arm during those walks. these moments are when he feels most connected to you, when he melts more and more...

because finding someone attractive is one thing, but finding someone attractive and genuinely interesting is a whole new level and at this point Aemond is charmed, really charmed

encouraged by this connection growing between you, Aemond asks you out. and let me tell you- he's SERVING! like he arrives at your home to pick you up, greets you with a gentle kiss on the hand and a soft smile, the kind that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach

and he smells so gooooood!!!!! I just know it

at dinner he pulls out your chair, ensuring you're comfortable before taking his own seat. throughout the meal, he’s attentive and considerate, paying for dinner without hesitation (duhh)

his eye contact is intense, making it clear he finds you captivating

about the first kisss.... at first it's gentle and tentative, almost like he's testing the waters. he would begin by leaning in slowly, his lips brushing against yours lightly, his hand cupping your jaw. he would look deep into your eyes, waiting for silent approval and when he gets it, he smiles and you smile too

as the kiss deepens, you’d feel the intensity building. the touch of his lips would become firmer, his body pressing you closer as he wraps his arms around you. his grip might grow more insistent, almost aggressive, as he pulls you in tight, the kiss becoming more passionate and intense. there's a raw edge to it, as if he's letting go of the restraint he's been holding onto, revealing the fire and desire that’s been simmering just beneath the surface

when you gasp softly against his lips, Aemond is losing control. his hand moves down to grab your ass, pulling you even closer, your lips crash and then he suddenly halts. moving back just enough to regain some composure. he's breathing heavily, trying to steady himself, his eye fixed on you with a mix of desire and restraint

"We should probably slow down, but I really don't want to."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about aemond ♡here♡

[thewritersaddictions]

Bases: Negan Smith- Chapter 1 Her

Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader

Pov: Negan

Warnings: boundaries push, touching, cocky comments, the walking dead, zombies, trigger warnings, almost dying, special treatment, the wives, jealousy, being saved; Simon mentioned a little bit, maybe Dwight too, and Negans wives. masturbation,

Summary: Negan meets you when you come to the sanctuary doors. Wary of you at first he takes to watching you, and boy does he get interested quickly.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 3.2k

The Walking Dead Master List // The Wanderers Master List // Series Master List

Y/n tries to catch her breath, but she just can’t seem to. Everything around her is swaying with her every step. She feels the sun pour through the sky, and it just ends up beating her up as she walks in the middle of the road. Trees line each side, giving no shade for her overheating body. She walks until she hears the indicators of the walkers; the sound grows louder the more she wanders due North. She worries for a moment until she sees a tall building that probably used to be a factory before the world went to shit. Then the sound of cars, the sounds of people. 

People! She doesn’t care if she doesn’t have enough energy to get to the gates; she’ll push through the hoarse voice from no water for at least the past few nights and days. She’ll push until someone picks her up from the searing hot cement underneath her. She manages to make it to the gate; her face is flush, and she ends up waving down what looks like a post guard. “Do you know where you are, Miss?” It’s a guy no older or younger than she is before Y/n can answer though she’s collapsing to the ground. She’s worn herself out before just making it. 

There’s a knock at the door, which means some shit is happening that Simon or some other fucknut doesn’t know how to handle. The knock on the door is different, rushed, almost a worried knock. “Come in.” I don’t look up until the person starts to talk; like always, it’s Simon. “Boss, um, we’ve got a problem.” My brow arches as I stare at Simon with a deathly glare. “A problem?” It’s not really a question, and Simon knows it. He just nods, and we walk in steadfast with each other. Lucille sits over my left shoulder. People quickly advert their stare as we step outside in the blaring heat of the Georgia sun. 

There’s a small, growing crowd around something rather intriguing. “Move outta the way, dingbats,” Simon shouts rather loudly in my ear as I look into the center of the growing crowd. “What’s this?” I ask one of the guards. His gun is slung around his back, the nose of the sniper pointing towards the ground. “I’m not sure, Duke over there said this girl waved and then collapsed outside the gates.” More intrigue. “Let me see.” The crowd moves, giving me a perfect view of the ‘girl’ lying on the hot ground. “You,” I say, pointing with the bat's end cap. The guy, ‘Duke’ visible, swallows, “She um… she was running towards the gate, and tried to wave at me, but before she could answer any of my questions, she just knocked out, hit the ground pretty hard too, Sir.” The guy says. I move Lucille making room for me to bend to my knees and get a more impersonal look at the ‘girl’ layin’ on the ground. 

Her skin is red and peeling in some places on her face and shoulders. Her hair is out of her face. Her face looks almost hollow like she hadn’t had water in days, maybe weeks. But she’s wearing what looks like an excellent proper pair of boots and jeans, and the first thing I think of next is, “Did ja check for bites?” I ask the whole crowd, and the Duke guy answers again. “Already checked her out, nothing, no bites or anything, Sir.” He says; I motion for Simon to come over, “Why was this so fuckin’ important, huh Simon?” he glides a hand through his messy hair. “Cause I figured you want to say what happened to the girl.” Simon never really gave a shit, didn’t take orders to well, and somehow always managed to not fuck up but still fuck up my shit. 

“Yeah, dumbass take her to the damn doc. What the hell you waiting on me to say that for.” I mutter to myself as I watch the two post guards pick her body up stiffly. Causing the both of them to alost tumble over. I roll my eyes at the action. “Simon.” I shove the bats handle into his hand. “You tow lacklys, get back to work i’ve got her.” The inner monologue tells me that I know it will always be me who has to take care of the dark shit, the bad shit, and the good shit. Nobody else. Simon close behind me, as the women lay limp in my arms. 

She had yet to open her eyes as the cool air inside the sanctuary hit her cheeks, her arms, and any other exposed skin. She didn’t even rustle as I walked her limp body through the doorway. “Dr. Carson, you can stop whatever the fuck you’re doin’ now. Help this women here.” I set her down on the cot, her head falling back along with her hair into the shitty pillow provided in this makeshift ER. “What… What happened?” Dr. Carson wasn’t the village idiot by any means, but it would nice if for once I didn’t have to tell the damn idiot what happened and he could just go do his fucking job. “Carson, just do your fuckin’ job or I swear to the god that probably fucked off already I will make your postion available again.” He shook his head, and got to work. Simon handed Lucille back to me, as I took a seat in those uncomfortable waiting chairs. 

“Looks like she has some burns some serious” Carson said looking over at me. An arch brow, and he was on the way to solving the whole damn thing, “Nothing a little bit of antibotic cream can’t fix. She’s also very dehydrated, so I’ll need to get her pumped with some fuilds before she can… before she’s well enough to talk with you Sir.” Carson mumbled out, I nodded my head and started to turn out of the room. “You said she needs fluids.” Carson nods his head, as he goes to get bandages wraps for her burns. “Bring her to my room, we should show our new guest the best care, right Carson?” He nodded with angst. 

“Are you sure… Sir, do you think that’s the best course of action. We don’t even know where this fuckin’ lady is from” Simon as his ratty, trash talkin’ fucking mouth never shut the hell up sometimes. I turned quickly catching his normal leaned back attitude off guard. “I think you would know me by now Simon. It’s a game, it’s always a fuckin’ game.” Simon stood still for a moment, and then nodded. 

An hour later there was a knock on my bedroom door. “It’s Dr. Carson with the Jane Doe.” He said through the door. I rolled my eyes, the clink of the gin bottle hitting the glass table rang my ears as I got up opening the door. This time two much larger guard held the Jane Doe on a cot. Less prone for her fall and get even more hurt. “You said you wanted her here sir?” Carson asked as if the first time I said wasn’t good enough for him. I look over at the Jane Doe. Her shoulder all the way down to her arms are covered in the white bandages. Her face isn’t though which is nice. “Come on in then.” I open the door wide enough for the large men to walk her in and place her on the couch adjacent of the bed. “I’ll get some fluids going in her and then I can come back in a few…” I cut him off, “No need doc, I’ve got it from that point. Don’t need someone in and out of my fuckin’ room every couple of hours.” He nods his head vigorously. I know what I’m doing, and there’s more I wanna know about this mystery Jane Doe. 

“Well hello there sweetheart.” The women in front of me is opening her eyes. It took nearly two days to get to this point. For nearly two days I have extra patrol out making sure that nobody followed this young women here. No need to be gettin’ ambushed right now. Her eyes go wide and when she opens her mouth to talk nothing comes out. Her nails scrap at her throat. “You need something to drink?” I’m quick to get up and gather a glass of water for her. Her hands are clammy when they graze past mine to collect the cold cup of water. The needle in her arms ache I can tell just from the look on her face. “We’ll take that out later, but for now why don’t you not rush your recovery.” I said as soft as I can. She looks like someone just told her that the world was starting all over again. 

She clears her throat, and for the first time I hear her voice. It’s angelic is a soft, fairy sort of way. “Where am I?” She ask looking around the room. “A settlement, the Sanctuary.” She looks over at me, beautiful eyes shining back at me. For the first time it’s odd to around a women who isn’t appalled by me, or faking it all together. She pure, and innocent in so many moldable ways. “I promise that i’ll be out of your hair before you even know that I was here.” She promises me, I humm. Then look over at her fluid drip, and the bandages on her body. “I was thinkin’ that you could stay here for a while. At least get yourself settled before you go back out in that hot Georgia sun. 

“So Miss Jane Doe, do you got a name?” I ask her as my words sink into her head. She clears her throat again taking another large gulp of water to coat her throat. “My name is um…Y/n.” She says with a little smile. “And you wer travelin’ alone out there?” I ask her, “Yeah.” She says nodding, she looks far of into the distance staring up at one of the ceiling tiles. As if she’s remembering someone she’s lost. I clear my own throat bringing her attention back to me. “I’ve ask that the doc, keep you here in my room. I wouldn’t suggest that you go out right now. Dr. Carson and I agree that you’re a little too fragile for that eveiormnet right now.” I said coaxing her into a choice she had no say in. She nodded, “My pack?” She asks, “I almost forgot.” I reach behind the coch she’s laying on. “Thanks.” She says with a small smile, and once more our hands graze each others. 

Hours later after a rather a surface level introduction with Y/n about where she came from, why she didn’t have anything other then a knife, and what the Sanctuary was about. There’s a soft knock on the door. It causes Y/n to shiver with anxiety. “It’s alright sweetheart, don’t worry about anyone trying to get ya.” “Can I come in, Negan?” I know that damn voice, Frankie. I boil over with anger and before I can get to the damn door Frankie is opening it. A sliky black dress drapped over her frame. I catch Y/n out of the corner of my eye; staring and watching the interaction between the two us. “Negan, I haven’t seen you in a few days…” Frankie stops short in her sentence. Scwoling at Y/n, as if she understands what the hell is going on either of them. “Frankie, go. I have a guest.” I say strongly grabbing her bicep and pushing her out of the room. 

The slam of door makes Y/n shriek, and when i turn to look at her she’s got her head cocked. “Who was that?” She asks timidly. “A… um… it’s just Frankie.” I finally manage to mumble out. “When was the last time you had a good bed to lay down in?” I ask in deperate need to change the subject. I don’t know just yet how to explain the wives to her, but then again when have I ever felt the need to explain myself to anyone. I push the feeling away, bury it in my stomach. Deep down. She shifts swinging her legs to the edge of the couch. She’s got pretty long legs even from the thick jean material that hid them. “I’d say at least since the first or second month of this shit.” I huff a laugh out, “Well how about this sweetheart. I’m gonna take this IV out, and patch you all up so you can get a good nights rest.” “But what about…” I shake my head. “I’ll take the couch, it’s been a while since I’ve booted to the couch anyways.” I jokingly say. 

Carson had left a few supplies here for me whenever Y/n was going to wke up so I could remove the IV, and bandage her up. As I do her skin is soft as least not where she’s been wrapped up with bandages. “So what was wrong with me?” She asks as she stares at my working hands. “You got a hell of a sunburn all up and down your shoulder and arms. Some antibiotic cream should fix ya up real quick.” I tell her, “And plus you were super fuckin’ dehydrated, what the hell were you doing running a fuckin’ marathon?” She giggles at my question as I tape down the gauze to make sure the blood doesn’t leak into anything. 

“Do you have extra clothes in that pack of yours?” I ask Y/n, she looks down and dig around. A minutes passes, and another, “Look mary poppins I don’t think there’s anything else the damn bag.” I might be getting a little frastrated, “So I’d take that as a no.” She nods her head. I whip myself around. Shifting through draws and a small closet of my clothes. “For tonight you can borrow somethin’ of mine. Sweats, and a long t-shirt so your bandages don’t come off during the night, Sweethearts.” I say passing her the clothes. Y/n stares down at them, and she get a little shy, well a lot shy. Bitting and pulling on her bottom lip. “Bathroom is over here sweetheart.” I watch as she walks towards the bathroom, and then the door shuts. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask myself. Dragging my hands down my face. There’s a shuffle from behind the bathroom door. “All good in there?” I ask, willing my voice not to break. I feel like a high school kid all over again with a stupid high school crush. “Um…” her voice sounds so tiny behind the door. “I don’t think this is gonna work.” She says shyly through the door. I stand to open the door, but she does before I can manage it. My long sleeve is loose on her frame, and the sweats don’t even take on her hips, but I guess that’s alright since the long sleeve is so big on her it acts as a dress. “That’s all good doll, how about I help ya get to bed.” I say reaching out my hand for her to grab. 

Yet again her hands are baby soft, like she’s never been outside a day in her life. No broken calluass, or rough patches. With our hand interlocked I walk her to the side of the bed. Moving the sheets back so she can easily get under the covers. She isn’t graceful about the plop down the bed. “A water bed!?” She asks, I actually laugh, “I wish sweetheart!” As Y/n shifts her legs to get under the covers and onto my side of the bed. I get a flash of her pink worn panties. 

I have to swallow down the groan of sexual frautration, maybe I should have taken Frankies offer. Pushed her outside the door, and fucked her stupid mouth shut. I shake my head, and I watch as Y/n starts to get snuggled into the cool fabric. I don’t grab the other pillow fromthe bed, I just make my way towards the couch. Cleaning up the medial mess I made earlier. I lean back into the coch, closing my eyes and all I can see is the pink panites. The coarse hair that prickled to come through the fabtic.

My cock stirs to life in my tights blue jeans. I can’t see Y/n’s face due to the dim lights in the room, but her snores are a good alert that’s she fast asleep. I close my eyes again and the flash of her nipples through the old shirt of mine makes me swallow down a moan. A hard on from a girl I know nothing about, a fuckin high school kid. All I can think of is the pink pussy that lays behind the pink panties, the tits that would bounces as I fucked her raw. I unzip my jeans, and pop my hard cock from my boxers. 

The tip is leaking pre-cum that I end up just using as lube. Pumping myself slowly at first until my eyes fall shut and all I can imagine is the sounds that Y/n would make when I fucked her up agaisnt the headboard. Or how good her pussy probably tasted. My cock is coated with my pre-cum, and so is my hand. The sounds are delicious, the sound of the squelching as the soft pad of my thumb over over the head of my cock and I end up just a pile of fuck, shits, and graons as I come all over my chest. 

“Fuck.” My breath is ragged, I haven’t come that since I was much younger and a whole lot ballsier. I throw my shirt off my shoulder and wipe down my tummy, and chest. Discarding the ruined shirt to a pile of other thrown clothes.

Completed on: 08/10/23

Posted on: 08/12/23

Bases Tags- @clararangel @lanad3lrey-l0v3r @jdmsgorl @scarlett-widows-89 @idk1idk2idk @kaits-diary @whatsssss @daryldixonluvr @oceanablue @chelseypprimrose @freedomfighterlex @sageworld @ayeizzshayla @123avengersandmarvel @charlie19690 @sweetvixensstuff @lanceisrandom @redscreendarkwin @finalgirlmp3 @fullwattpadmusictree @harmonib @rainyzonkmakerlover @ge0rgzs @julimariett @amazingmaeve @kpoplover4life @definitelynotyagmur @rivernell @vanilla88 @alteredgalaxy @thatonefroggirl @kyleepsposts @max-505 @nhayoshii

[suckitdeku]

Hisoillu Week(end)

Prompt (08/23): past (first encounter)

Hisoka (24yo) was bored. He needed a new playmate. Illumi Zoldyck (21yo) just fell into his trap.

TW: blood, homie-cide, probably a violent family, stalkering, sexual references, so on and so forth... but just slightly :) also some typos.

This came out by the headcanon that my dear @lumizold and I had about their meeting. We also roleplayed it and it was the time of my life istg. Guess who roled who. Actually pretty easy. Too easy maybe. But here I tried to wrote them both on my own, and he liked the result, so i guess this is... good! At the very least. So shoutout to him for helping me understand better this difficult and majestic character, illumi zoldyck. He's now the boy of my life. And if it wasn't for him, i couldn't have written this as canonic as it- should be? is? well it's just conjugetion, we don't really care.

Enjoy!

Illumi was in the airship, heading towards a spot in the Padokea region where he got an assignment. A very important assignment... which would have made lots of money, according his grandfather Zeno, who just congratuled him for the assignment received. Well, if the Zoldycks' bank account was happy, the Zoldycks would have been happy too. Right?

He didn't question about it, but he had to admit that the request was pretty weird. Asking to a family of assassins for protection wasn't impossible, nor improbable, but... unusual? definiterly the most unusual thing ever happened to him. His square mind couldn't can a so shapeless thought... it was worst than having an uncovered glass of water in your car while speeding... and drifting. Up a montain road. Through sharp bends. In short, the water spills everywhere and you can't keep it in the glass, where it should have been since the beginning... if there were salted pistachios in that glass, they wouldn't have flown all over. Like the water did. He hated water as a kitten does.

Sitting straight and perfectly still in his second class seat, he kept overthinking his job assignment.

He knew little to nothing about it. Nothing too useful, and that was the reason he was ruminating the best way to make things work in case something went wrong upon his arrival.

A wealthy mafia boss has been repeatedly harassed by a real weirdo, whose incredible strength frightened all of his guards (all the hundred persons designated on working on his safety were terrified by him). He followed him everywhere he went, he stopped him to talk and ask him very molest questions. There, he had obtained this description of him: he was a molest man, tall and muscular with "shoulders like this" (you would say it's an accurate description), with magenta hair pulled back that stayed like this as if under an enchantment, a strange clown make-up with a little star and a teardrop under each eye, odd clothes with card suits motif and ridiculous shoes (again, what an accurate description...), but his voice was mellifluous and hardly you could discern his gentleness and his way of fooling you. It was so stressful, dealing with him. And therefore he was easily recognizable.

Illumk kept looking outiside the window.

The mysterious, molest clown was, among other things, a violent. He threatened to kill him in exactly five days, and already got in a fight with his guards, snuck in his super-secured estate's garden... well, he was a public manace walking on well-functioning legs. Illumi already thought that making those legs useless could be a good idea... but the client commissioned the homicide before he could pull out a joke of his, and so be it. In faxt, his job made more sense this way. Protect the client... by killing an enemy. Yes. This way, now, even the water in the glass had become governable in that devious journey.

And he went back to staring out the window.

He just wanted to go back home and see how his little brother Killua was handling their father's care.

?!?

Illumi felt dumbfounded. He wasn't effectively shocked, but... he still was speechless, his big black eyes whose pupils couldn't stand out over their irides were drawn towards the silent estate in front of him.

Corpses.

Corpses, corpses, corpses.

Corpses everywhere in the garden. Were they planted there as decorations, in order to scare the most cowards or were they there to give troubles to the one who had hired them?

One of the floor lamp along the walkaway had been blown. Something was stuck in it, and had short out part of the electric system, and now it was slowly catching fire.

It was... a playing card.

So, he really was dealing with a clown.

As if he was terrified, in that catatonic state of his, Illumi started running through the corpses, jumping over the blood puddles on his way, without sparing a glance at the deads' abhorrent expressions.

He really felt a bit of dread.

If... he failed...

He would not receive his payment! Those two- really serious parents perfectly capable of taking absolutely rational and logic decisions didn't get paid up front. Once, he tried to advice them about that little, hazardous detail... but after receiving that slap from his father, he couldn't even remember what was so hazardous about getting paid when the job was finished. And now they risked receiving nothing.

And yet, Illumi was right on time... he got embarked like a robot on the first available transportation, with the confidence that the clown would have made his appearence in eighteen hours circa... instead, the clown arrived and made them all dead. Deads. Deads everywhere.

Deads everywhere in every hallway he passed through. Was that a finger, that one he was seeing hanging on the wall with a card? Oh, yeah, it really was a finger. A little finger. Certainly a little finger, because the severed hand five meters further ahead was missing a little finger.

Macabre and thorny details passed under his unperturbed glare to embed in his mind, as if pinning them with pins on an enormous board. It was the summary of all the things he should be reporting his dad, along with his ass in order to let him whip it to a pulp, probably.

He began to spy a room, the only one with an open door, the warm light escaping by slithering through the threshold.

Corpses. Corpses everywhere. A man hanging on the wall, and one crawling to the door to escape, were the ones who immediately caught his big eyes.

A mature man, around his 50s and bald, was being held by the throat by... a... a guy really tall, and big... with a giggle sweet as honey, kind of mellifluous, his pale, muscular arms with protruding veins stretched towards the adult. Something about his appearence seemed off, but he didn't pay that much attention.

He was toying with the man. Like a white kitten pawing maliciously at a tailless lizard, already mortally wounded by his claws and canines. The man almost didn't try to free himself, but he looked like he was waiting for a miracle, a small glimmer of salvation to get his paws off of him.

They were the only ones alive.

— Oh, I guess I have visitors~

His murmur wasn't directed to anyone buy the adult between his hands, who he hold tightly. His face was vermilion. He could already see, already imagine them, some ecchymosis in his eyes, the attempts to free himself getting irregular and limp, his strangled sounds disappearing...

He finally showed himself up, throwing one of his pins already infused with Nen against the clown.

He, just as an expert performer in the circus, looked like he was expecting the pin as if it was a circus act he and his most trustworthy partner tried a thousand times. He moved even before the pin was ready to be flung, and... that was a matter of instants.

He bend his knees, threw back his head and all of his body. His back was a perfect arch in that pose so uncomfortable and artistic altogether. His hair, apparently with nothing left to hold it up, were now slipping across his face with oh so perfect features.

He abruptly released his victim in order to stay in that position, and the man stumbled in place for a single moment.

And threw himself back onto the clown, taking a breath in the process.

He jolted. Illumi, inside his soul, did the same.

The pin ended up on his jugular, and the man kept a hand on his neck, dazed. From the way he staggered you could tell he was dizzy.

With a wince which made him lose his playful smirk, the clown crouched down, ready to spring into action. His hair was in plac- his hair was in place, when had he recombed them?

He was glaring at the pin, without worrying about Illumi two meters away from them. He glared it. And glared at the man, while he was taking the unusual weapon and removing it from his neck. It was disgust. Disgust for his stupidity.

The man tumbled with a thud. His vertigo more dizzy than before with every squirt of blood gushing out the wound, now more deadly than before.

— Everyone knows that wounds with the weapon still inside should not be touched.

Both him and the Zoldyck watched him pant with wide eyes. The realization about his screw-up had hit him hard, just like the thought he was dying. The unknown man, pulling out a playing card, wondered if the victim of that cruel fate was thinking of something in particular: a warm greeting to his liver or the burning desire to spit on his father's and his assassin's tomb. They observed his life slip away from his eyes.

— If the weapon is still inside, you still have the chance to save your life yourself.

A strangled sound.

His eyes glassy.

An embarassing silence. The Zoldyck was stuck and static. He wasn't swinging lightly on his own feet. He wasn't shifting his weight from a side to the other, and he wasn't looking away from the new cadaver, still warm. He looked nervous in his own way. He was extremely illegible.

— Don't tell me that the one whose life I just casually took away was the mafia boss who instructed me to kill you.

— No no~ — the stranger laughed, turning to face him. That Zoldyck was so ugly and ungroomed... black hair cutted in a bob, his athletic figure concealed by a banal track suit in unattractive colors or... generally not very colorful. And it was such a shame, because his doll-like eyes, his perfect and also symmetric features, summed up with those thin, pinky lips with an adorable shape were really attractive. — He was head of the guards.

— So where did you left the person I'm looking for?

— Right at your feet, asking for mercy~

Illumi lowered his gaze. There was the man he previously saw, ho looked like he was crawling for his dear life.

Illumi took a deep breath, staring at him without batting an eye. Literally. Not a movement. He didn't even looked mad. No throbbing vein on his neck. Nor sweat droplets.

The maniac tried to incite him.

— I got bored waiting for you~ I decided to kill time playing cat and mouse. Or mice~ obviously you can see they're city mice~ they didn't run away from me well enough... I had to kill 'em all to satisfy my bloodlus-

The Zoldyck turned around, and calmly started walking away.

The maniac stayed there, looking at the threshold, batting his lashes with surprise.

Was he dumb?

He jogged after him, as if nothing had happened.

!?!

— Weren't you going to kill me~?

— Stop moaning and lower your voice.

— Coomee ooon~ answer me~

— I haven't been paid.

— Yeah, no shit, you didn't finish your job yet if I'm still alive~

— He who hired me is dead. The contract is no longer valid. I'm going back home.

— To mommy and daddy, huh~?

— Yes. If I'm going back home I'm going back to them. Not to other people.

— And don't you want to entertain yourself with me, killing time together~?

— No. I don't have time.

— Yes you have, that guy's dead and no one can disturb us while we're getting to... know each other~

That maniac was sticling his hands out too much. Yep. Pretty molest. He slapped them away, and the man groaned in pleasure.

— No. I have to go back home and explain this trouble.

— So~? I took away your assignment, you should be mad, or scared of their reactions~

— I'm just pensive.

— What else~?

He developed him in his sticky embrace, whispering in his ear. He believed he was pushing him into talking about more interesting matters, with his own hands brushing and caressing his hips, because he felt shivers running on his skin.

— I feel like. Having a lollipop.

— Here, take it, babyboy.

The Zoldyck, amazed, turned to face him, still in his embrace, as if it was nothing. His eyes weren't surprised, but his arched brows definitely were. Now they were both still, one before the other, and were looking at each other. Then, his black eyes slowly drifted away from the stranger's pure gold irises to halt on his lightly stretched-out hand.

Between tapering fingers, tightly hold between long and sharp nails, there was a small lollipop.

He batted his lashes and took it. It was as thin as a card, under his fingertip, and... seemed a card, for real.

— Are you kidding me?

The lollipop, point of contention of the two hands, suddenly became a card. A jolly.

Too fun. He was being sarcastic.

The man smiled like a fox, his lips stretched and closed, eyes narrowed. — It's a trick~

Illumi squeezed his eyelids, unamused, and took some distance from him to look at his face. His make-up was odd, it was true. He just noticed it. It seemed like a make-up for clown, maybe because of the teardrop and the tiny star, but... clowns didn't paint their face that way. They were... so colourful and showy.

His gaze wenr back to normal, while the man kept staring at him. — You... are not the clown I was looking for, right?

The man lost his smile, and gazed at him. His eyes had lost their light. He didn't seem to be enjoying himself either. — I am a magician, little Zoldyck.

And he parted his lips in a "o", his brows lightly arched as if comprehensive. — So you're not who I'm looking for. — and he added under his breath that, in fact, the magician make-up wasn't included in the identikit, and that he was licky he recognized it. The man's frown deepened.

— I indeed am the one~ you silly~

— No, you're wrong. I'm looking for a clown. He looks exactly like you... but he paints his face like a clown.

— You dummy, I'm the one who persecuted your client~ I did it on purpose, in order to lure you here~

The Zoldyck parted again his thin lips in a "o" shape, and his eyebrows raised, too. Maybe he realized he was in a trap.

— But I was told to look for a clown... you're a magician, I noticed it.

— I am a magician, my name's Hisoka, — he spelled his introduction for the idiot. — As a matter of fact, however, I get mistaken for... a cheap clown.

— Clowns are not cheap. — said the young man. On second thought, he looked really young — They make you laugh, scared and kill people.

— Only in horror movies.

— My life is a horror movie.

Hisoka smiled a little hearing those words. — You're an enjoyable person, little Zoldyck~

— I'm not little. I'm the firstborn.

— But how~ how old are-

He got interrupted by an unpleasant noise. In the quiet of the night, to sweep away the blissful and relaxing sensation of the humid air brushing the naked skin, several sirens got closer to the location of the slaughter.

The Zoldyck started running to the woods. Hisoka, without missing a bit, followed right after.

— And here I thought you enjoyed attention, all eyes on you. — the Zolduck murmured, between a long stride and the other. — Back there, there are lots of eyes ready to watch you and lots of hands ready to catch you.

— But no one could do it like you~

That answer didn't break him down, instead he quickened his pase. Hisoka was stalking him.

— You still haven't ask me a single thing. — he said after one minute of jogging in the wood.

The Zoldyck didn't spare him a single look. — I don't care.

— But we're walking together~

— You're following me.

— Talk to me, coomee oonnn~

— I gotta go.

Hisoka grabbed him in his embrace, forcing the other to stop.

— What's your name~?

— I have no time. — was his crude response

He found himself pointing a pin against his throat, and his Adam's apple grazed it as it bobbed to swallow and moan.

But Hisoka craved for more. He crawled over his body as if he were dying. He didn't care about the pin, may the pain be welcomed, on the contrary. But he needed to be with him.

— I'm bored~ so bored~ I need... someone on my level to fight with~ I've set a trap for you to meet you, little Zoldyck.

So he had revealed his cards. I hoped to intrigue him. It had to intrigue him. He had to get it out of that head somehow. Maybe it would all end in a bloodbath.

But the Zoldyck just kept glaring at him. — I'm sorry. I can't stay here risking to het caught. If you know my surname, you also know my family and the rumors going around us.

Hisoka nodded, purring on him. He wasn't trying to leave his arms anymore. — No one know your names and your faces, so infamous in everywhere in Padokea~

— My father would not appreciate me ending up in jail. — he pointed out. — I don't know about you, but I don't want to get arrested.

Hisoka's face leaned over towards his. — When will I see you again, then~?

And the young man allowed himself to be deceived. He paid no attention to that touch, to those hungry looks, and only said a few words.

— Are you able to remember phone numbers?

A shiver run down his spine. A Zoldyck's phone number was the best he could hope for, obviously after a fuck/fight with one of them. — Ohh~ well, yes, yeah...

— I'm going to tell you. — he cutted short.

But Hisoka moaned, attaching himself on his body. Illumi felt with a growing embarrassment... something poking against his hips. — Oh no, just not right away~ if you write it on my arm... I'll show you a trick and no one will see your number~

The young man stayed still, looking at him. In silence. His eyes shone a bit. — A magic trick?

— I'm a magician for a reason~

He batted his lashes. — Arm. — he streched out his hand.

Hisoka vibrated with excitement, extending it to to him, nonchalantly. He still had his lips streched in that fox-like smirk of his. — How merciful of you~ you allow me to still stay close to you and give me such a cuddle~? I must seem to you to be on the verge of death and in need of one last wish~

The young Zoldyck took something out of his pocket. A small pin, so sharp, the top of it green. Slowly, looking at him in the eye, he started likinv it, his pink tongue leaving saliva at every lick.

Hisoka didn't know exactly what that little show he was witnessing was, but he knew that he didn't mind it at all. His throbbing member between his legs told him so. The warm pang in his stomach told him so. The eyes that became pools of liquid gold at the heavenly sight.

When it was all nice and moist, he dully took it away from his mouth.

— Are you going to write with that~?

— Yes. How are you going to hide the number?

— With my favorites Nen technique, of course~

He carried it lightly against his skin. He pressed the tip gently, and when he broke the skin a trickle of blood flowed calmly.

The night was torn from its quiet by the moans and cries of pleasure of a man, sweetly tortured by a very nice, unique and skilled assassin, who loved to dilate time under his expert touch to prick it with pins.

Hisoka couldn't remember ever feeling so excited.

When their paths separated, the young assassin had discovered that Bungee-gum has the properties of both rubber and gum, and Texture Surprise could be very useful in cases where the wounds needed to be hidden in some way, and Hisoka had discovered that the person with whom he had pleasantly spent minutes of total ecstasy was called Illumi Zoldyck, and that his telephone number was... divine when written in blood.

[thepinkmermaidprincess]

You’re a cheerleader at Tommen University and everyone’s favorite sweetheart.Everyone know you,adores you and protected you at school and Joey lynch is the new basketball player,he just transferred from his old school to yours after he was adopted by the Kavanagh family…You’ve never talked to him but obviously you’ve heard about his troubled past,his gorgeous smile and his even sexier body…everyone knows that joey lynch means trouble but when he finally help you get away from ex boyfriend,you wonder if he is as bad as everyone tell him to be…

you and joey start fake dating to keep people off his back and to keep your creepy ex boyfriend off yours….

YOU FOUND ME SERIES ♡

part 1

here’s how it started…♡ ☕️🏀🎀 (tw:sexual harassment)

While the basketball team was getting ready in the locker room,you and your cheer squad did your new routine on hollaback baby by gwen stefani.You loved cheering and dancing,it make your heart go crazy of happiness.As you finished and everyone applauded,you and your team went to the side,to let the basketball court free for the players’s warmed up.

They entered and the whole room started screaming and jumping.Instinctively,your gazed fixed on Joey Lynch.It was his first match with the school team and he looked delicious.It was also the first match of the season since school started in two days,on monday.Joey had a very bad reputation of drugs,fight and family issues but there was so much sadness in his eyes,the only thing you wanted was to hug him hard and protect him from everyone.You knew the other guys on the team weren’t very nice with him.Especially,Paul Rice,your ex boyfriend.You guys dated for three years but you were never in love with him and his constant cheating was hurtful especially since you learned about it one month ago,he was never faithful to you.Thank god,you didn’t give him your virginity.He could be such an asshole,you knew he was mean to Joey only because he was jealous of his talent.Honestly,you understood his jealous.Joey Lynch was one of the most talented basketball player you’ve ever met and you admire his confidence.He didn’t care about what people think,only about his siblings who you knew have been through so much.He was strong,that’s for sure.He was also the most handsome guy you’ve ever met with his tall broad frame,tanned skin and blond hair.A part of you was curious about him,about what was hiding behind his muscles and his green eyes.

"Watch out !",screamed one of your friend which caused you to get out of your daydream about joey and realize that a basketball ball was second away from hitting you in the face.Luckily,you jerked to the side in time.

"Fuck,sorry gorgeous",not other than Joey Lynch himself said as he stands in front of you.

You crouched down to retrieve the ball before sending it to him,hard.

"Nice throw.",you said sarcastically.He was supposed to be the best on the team and yet he almost killed you with his ball.

He looked at you up and down,tilted his head and smiled at you.

"Nice legs",he said clearly flirting with you and he was good.

As he left to come back to the court,the only thing you could think about was his puffy lips that you were sure to dream about tonight."I mean,that’s not bad,right ?",you thought.After the horrible relationship you’ve had with Paul who let you feeling empty and his constant harassment,a harmless crush on a sexy guy couldn’t be bad.Having crushes were fun and a important part in girlhood.You needed to feel happiness.

A bell started ringing,signaling that the match was about to begin.When you turned around to go sit on the bleachers,your eyes locked with Paul’s,he seemed to have seen your little flirting with Joey and clearly didn’t seem happy about it.Well it didn’t matter.He had his chance with you and ruined it so you were going to be happy and have an amazing school year no matter what.

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎀໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After the match,which your school won thanks to Joey,you were waiting for your mom in the parking lot.You were still in your cheer outfit and it started to get cold.You hoped your mom would come soon.

You took your headphones out of your juicy couture sport bag to listen to music when you got interrupted.

"Hi,baby,",Paul said standing way too close to you to your liking.

"Paul,i really don’t want to do this tonight…can you leave?",you were exhausted and the last thing you wanted was for him to beg you to take him back and make promises you knew he didn’t attempt to keep.

"Come on…y/n seriously we’re meant to be together,can’t you see that ?",he said with a hint of anger in his voice.He was holding your arm so hard to the point of hurting you.

"Paul,stop…you’re hurting me.",you whined.

"You don’t want me,huh?I saw you talking to this lynch piece of shit,so what?you’re fucking him?huh?",now he was truly angry,gripping your ass and making you uncomfortable.

You didn’t how to get out of his grip and you hated yourself for how little he made you feel.Suddenly,someone grabbed Paul and throwed him to the floor.

"If you touch her one more time, i swear,i will bury you,motherfucker.",Joey said angrily protecting you with his body."Go.Right now.",his voice sounded so angry it sends shivers down your spine.

Paul looked at you,"It’s not over", before angrily leaving,cursing at joey under his breathe.Once he was out of sight,Joey gently turned to you and took you head between his hand.

"Hey gorgeous,u alright ?",his eyes softened but his voice still sounded angry.

"Yes…just…..tired",your head was screaming.

"Do you need a ride?",he said while gently massaging your neck,easing some of the tension.

"No,my mum is supposed to come pick me up."

"okay okay…hey,let’s sit down here while we wait for your ride alright?",he inclined his head toward the pavement.He sated down before gently taking your hand and easing you down.Then,he silently took his sweatshirt off before handing it to you,"you’re shaking…",he said so softly you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t so close.

As you waited for your mom with Joey,you realized that it was the first time Paul actually stopped harassing you.A idea popped into your head…maybe you and Joey could make a deal….He protect you from Paul and you protect him at school.It seemed like a crazy idea,you both didn’t know each other that well but well,sometimes circumstances happen.He probably was not going to agree to your plan and it was too late to ask.You decided to ask him tomorrow after a good night of sleep.

"Thank you for waiting with me joey.",you said sweetly before entering your mom’s car and driving off.That night,you slept with his sweater.

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎀໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You entered Tony Molloy’s garage,you knew Joey has been working here since he was twelve.

"Y/n ? what are you doing here ?",Joey said coming out from behind a car’s hood.He was all greasy and smelled like car but you thought he looked adorable.

"Joey…I wanted to thank you again for last night…what you did mean so much to me…..I also have a crazy proposition that you absolutely don’t have to considerer i just-"

"shoot,gorgeous.",he said as he rested his hips against the back of the car he was working on.

"I…well,would you agree to be my fake boyfriend ?",you said looking at your feet.

"What?",he said as his eyebrows jumped to his hairline.

You started overthinking and chickening out.And like every time thing’s become too much,you leave."This was a bad idea,bye…",you tried to leave but he gently held you back by your arms.

"Hold on love….I just don’t understand.What do you need a fake boyfriend for ?And why the hell would you choose me?",he sounded like he was trying really to understand you.

"It’s just that Paul has been harassing me for weeks and the only time he stopped was because of you.So maybe if he think we’re dating he will stop annoying me and also he hate you…a part of me want to get him back for what he did to me…And if you’re wondering what would be in it for you,i know the guys of the team,if they think we’re dating they will definitely get off your back…and the whole school too,no one will cause you any trouble.",you said,this time holding eye contact."It wouldn’t be forever,i promise,just until he find someone else and stop wanting me."

"I don’t care about what the guys on the team think of me",he responded seriously but his eyes were shining with a hint of mischief,for once,there wasn’t a hint of sadness in them.

"Yeah,i know.I admire that about you.",you responded truthfully.Something about him made you want to reveal yourself,to not hide anything.

After a couple of minute of silence,you finally broke it.

"I’m taking that as a no,it’s okay really,i’m just gonna lea-"

"I’m in."

"wait,what?",you said shocked,you actually did not think he was going to agree.

"I’m in,i’ll be your fake boyfriend but you gotta go now,i have work to do and you’re distracting me.",he said gently before chuckling at the expression of pure shock on your face.

"okay…yeah…okay bye…",you said like you were in a trance as you walked to the door.

"bye fake girlfriend.",without even seeing him you knew he was smiling.

hope u loved it ♡ English is not my first language so i apologize for any mistakes <3

[banannabethchase]

Brew and Me - also on AO3

~

Claudio's finally gotten the opportunity to visit the small coffee shop he's been lusting after, and Wheeler tags along.

~

For @rosabellebelieve because she deserves smiles <3

~

Wheeler wakes up to his alarm blaring, blinking away the sleep. He slaps at the bedside table and answers without checking the name. “The fuck do you want?” he grumbles, shoving his face back into the pillow.

“Wake up, Wheeler,” Claudio says, sounding way too cheery. “I’m downstairs. Have been for a bit now, love. Come on.”

Wheeler groans and rolls over. Claudio’s side of the bed really is cool. “Why do you do this to me?” he sighs, sitting up. “Normal people sleep past,” he checks the clock, “eight in the morning on a Sunday, fuck.”

“You agreed to go on a coffee tasting,” Claudio says. “The appointment is at nine. You should be getting ready now.” Wheeler rolls his eyes and stands, going for the closet.

“You’re lucky I showered last night,” Wheeler mutters, getting dressed.

“Of course I am,” Claudio says, and he’s unfairly perky. “If you hadn’t, I would have woken you up when I woke up.”

“If you ever wake me up at five in the morning on the weekend, I will lock you out.” Wheeler can’t help but smile at Claudio’s excitement though. It’s an appointment at a small local coffee shop that Claudio’s been lusting after since a late night google search a few months back, and they finally got a Dynamite date in the area. They extended their stay a little, just to get the appointment.

“You would not,” Claudio replies. “Now come down to the lobby.”

Wheeler brushes his teeth and does his best to style his hair and beard, then makes his way downstairs.

Claudio looks cozy in a double breasted coat, a little warm for the weather but the effect is more than worth it.

“Hey,” Wheeler says, leaning down to kiss Claudio. “You already taste like coffee.”

“I had to have my morning brew.”

Wheeler rolls his eyes. “Come on. I have the keys.”

Claudio tries to grab him out of the way to drive, but Wheeler dives into the seat before Claudio can get there.

“I,” Wheeler says, grinning up at Claudio, “am driving.”

Claudio huffs, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you chauffeur me.”

“Let me,” Wheeler scoffs, starting the car as Claudio makes his way around. “You’re such a dick.”

Claudio slides into the car. “What about dick?”

“Buckle up.”

Wheeler may or may not disregard some speed limits as they make it to the coffee shop, and he’s convinced he’s taken a wrong turn as he pulls into the driveway of what looks like a sweet little New England Cape with blue shutters and a red door.

“Are we sure this is the place?” he asks, hand still on the wheel. “It feels…homey.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Claudio asks. “It’s correct. Look.” He points to a miniscule sign Wheeler can barely make out. Brewology with Steph.

“I still think it’s a stupid name,” Wheeler says, stepping out of the car. “What is Brewology? Who’s Steph?”

“Steph is a highly qualified, extremely experienced taster,” Claudio says, and he adjusts his coat in a way that makes Wheeler get a little hot. “We’re in good hands.”

As he steps out of the car, he resists the urge to suggest something else that could go in Claudio’s hands, and walks next to him to the shop.

“Ah!” a woman says as they walk up. Wheeler has to presume she’s Steph. “Welcome. The two of you must be my nine o’clock appointment.”

Claudio nods. “Yes, I am Claudio, and this is my partner, Wheeler Yuta.” He grins down and it flares warmth in Wheeler’s chest. “Glad to be here.”

“Welcome,” Steph says. Wheeler had expected someone pretentious and a little obsessed with themselves, maybe demanding attention and respect for their talent without proving they deserve it yet.

Instead, Steph is a tall, short haired woman who talks about coffee as casually as Wheeler can rattle off wrestling stats. She and Claudio connect immediately, which gives him the chance to scan the place and get an idea of what’s going on. It’s still got the typical bones of the design of a Cape, but each room provides a different coffee lover’s fantasy. Normal coffee makers, filters, espresso makers, and French presses line the walls of a large kitchen. There’s multiple rooms lined with jars of coffee beans. He’s not a fan of the taste of coffee, but the smell he finds to be an immediate comfort. He’s woken up dozens of times to that smell floating in from the kitchen where Claudio and his obscenely early wakeups brew a pot of his personal favorite, and this building echoes with the scent like it’s built into its foundation. He peers around as they enter a new room to see that each shelf is labeled with a style or location or region where the coffee was grown. Wheeler doesn’t know quite what the words mean, but he knows they’re important from the way Claudio gets excited about them.

The place feels homey in a way Wheeler hadn’t expected. But he likes it.

“Alright,” Steph says. “We’re here to taste, not to talk. Let’s get started.”

He’d expected a few brew options, maybe different spices or whatever to add like Starbucks has at their counter.

He didn’t expect to follow Claudio as he points to random jars that Steph takes down and hauls to the kitchen. Wheeler tastes so many coffees he thinks his brain hurts. He fakes using phrases that Claudio and Steph throw around like a new language.

“I sense a hint of chocolate.”

“The caramel on the back of that cup is delightful.”

He gets a weird look when he says, “Sorry, this one tastes like burning tires,” but Claudio takes another sip of the same cup and frowns.

“You have a point,” he concedes, and puts down the cup. “I think this one is less than a preference, Steph.”

“That’s the case for many tasters,” Steph says, moving the bag of beans away. “It’s a unique blend that most people don’t particularly enjoy.” She turns, smiling at Wheeler. “You have a sensitive tongue, Mr. Yuta.”

It takes everything in Wheeler’s body not to say something wildly inappropriate. “Can I try that chocolate cherry thing one again?” He asks. “I can still taste burning tires.”

Claudio slides him the coffee and Wheeler takes a sip. Now that he knows what a bad coffee tastes like, he supposes, he can appreciate one that tastes the way he wants.

Like a switch, he gets it. The next few he’s able to actually describe. Not as well as Claudio, of course, and nothing close to Steph, but they start to nod along when he describes brews as having a plum taste or reminding him of a woodfire.

“Now,” Steph says, once Wheeler’s buzzing with caffeine and has tasted something like 25 different kinds of coffee, “the conclusion of the tasting is for you two to choose your favorite blend.” She smiles at them. “You could choose a single brew, if it’s to your liking, or you can create your own blend of flavors and underlying tastes.”

“Not the burning tire,” Wheeler says. “Other than that, Claudio? It’s all you.”

Claudio nods, brow furrowing. “I take that challenge with pride.”

It’s a bit like watching a mad scientist, as Claudio puts together flavors and mutters to himself.

“He’s really into coffee,” Wheeler says. He’s not sure if he’s telling this to Steph as an explanation or an apology. “Like, really into coffee.”

“I can see that,” Steph says. She leans against the table and takes her own mug, the one that had been sitting on a back counter, and takes a sip. “You know what the weird thing is? I prefer my coffee with sugar and milk, but I do appreciate all the flavors, you know?” She takes another sip. “But it is much easier to discern the individual personalities of each coffee without any additional details.”

Wheeler nods, like he’s not the kind of person to chug a java chip Frappuccino and call it a day.

“Aha!” Claudio says, eyes triumphant after a sip. “This is it.” He holds the cup up to Wheeler’s lips. “Try it and tell me what you think.”

Wheeler sips. He can taste cocoa, a little cherry. Some hints of spice and wood smoke in the back of it.

The problem is he still doesn’t like it. At all.

“Yeah,” Wheeler says. “That’s – that’s my favorite out of all of them.” He smiles at Claudio.

“You still hate coffee, don’t you,” Claudio says, and at least it looks like he’s fighting a grin.

“Not on purpose!” Wheeler says. “It’s just – look, coffee’s mostly your thing, and I like…” He trails off. “Well, I like you.”

Steph makes a little squeak. “Sorry!” she says. “That was just really sweet.” Her smile turns into a bit of a grimace. “I’ve had couples where one partner doesn’t like coffee come in and they will be just miserable to their partners, you know?” She fades back into a smile. “It’s nice to see the opposite.”

They make small talk as Steph packs up Claudio’s blend of coffee and wraps it with a bow. “And there you are.” She beams at them. “I hope the two of you have a great evening. You have a flight tonight, right?”

Wheeler nods. “Couple hours from now.”

“Make sure to keep that in the bag and put it in checked luggage,” Steph says. “You don’t want TSA getting handsy with it.”

“Duly noted,” Claudio says. He flashes one of his pretty smiles at Steph. “Thank you so much for your assistance. Next time we’re in town we will certainly stop by again.” He holds out his hand and Wheeler takes it as they make their way out of the store.

“So you really don’t enjoy coffee,” Claudio muses, thumb rubbing Wheeler’s skin. “I thought 27 would change your mind.”

“It’s not, like, a switch,” Wheeler laughs. He lets Claudio push to the driver’s seat this time and takes the coffee out of his hands, resting the bag in his lap as he sits. He glances over at Claudio. “You really like coffee.”

Claudio nods. “It’s quite an adventure, tasting coffee.” He gazes at Wheeler, making Wheeler’s entire chest swell. “Similar, I think, to being with you.” He reaches out and rests a hand on the side of Wheeler’s neck. “Different experiences, flavors, notes. But always the same, at its base.” His eyes soften. “Always, at the root of it, something that brings me comfort.”

Wheler leans over the center console and kisses Claudio. He doesn’t quite understand the words he wants to say, knows they’re there but not how to form them with his lips, so he tries to show it with his kiss. Claudio kisses back gently, insistently, and it’s familiar like he’d said.

It’s comfort.

It’s forever.

“Claudio,” Wheeler says, his heart racing. He hadn’t planned to do it now. He fumbles in his pocket. It’s been there for weeks now, never leaving his side. “Fuck. I meant to – get out of the car, okay?”

“Get out – why?” Claudio’s rarely baffled, but he follows Wheeler’s lead. Wheeler scrambles out of the car. The last time he felt nerves like this, the last time his adrenaline pumped like this, was Blood and Guts. When Claudio stands, Wheeler drops to a knee.

“Claudio Castagnoli,” he says, looking upwards. “Will you marry me?”

Claudio laughs and throws his head back. “Wheeler, you madman, I was planning – I was supposed to do this!” He drops down to Wheeler’s level. “Yes, of course.” He leans in and kisses Wheeler with fire behind it. “You always have the jump on me, don’t you.” He rests his forehead against Wheeler’s. “Would you believe me if I said I have a ring in the dresser at home?”

“Possibly,” Wheeler says.

Claudio strokes Wheeler’s jaw, pressing his lips to Wheeler’s cheek. “Will you let me propose to you later?”

“Yes,” Wheeler says, wiping an errant tear from his cheek. “Now. Let’s get home.”

Claudio shakes his head. “Certainly not.” His smile turns a little devious. “I think we should find a hotel room and reschedule our flights, no?”

Wheeler grins at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

~

Mini Playlist: Starving - Hailee Steinfeld Numbers - The Cab Speechless - The Veronicas Forever and For Always - Shania Twain

[yymiya]

shoutout to the vampire!diluc fic i started in march and never finished because of exams & uni... this was the first scene LMAO

This is the third letter in five days.

There are likely a number of others, led astray by the blizzard, beaten down by the fall of snow, but precisely three have reached his hand. The terrain here is beautiful, if fatally unpredictable and volatile. Lines of correspondence are often clipped by the conditions much sooner than intended—this, Diluc is acquainted with.

Yet, once more, his falcon drifts along the howling wind and dives down to perch on her master’s raised arm, and he knows the parchment fastened to her leg is not the biweekly report of the Dawn Winery’s affairs that he awaits but something else entirely.

Ordo Favonius has been unusually, frustratingly persistent as of late.

How typical, intercepting his commercial communications to deliver a message—several, rather—of their own without a care for the routine they disrupt. They must have forgotten that he intends to complete this journey alone. He doesn’t need their aid, or their ingratiating, sickly words and void oaths. 

Diluc halts. His boots kick up a gust of powdery snow. It settles between his boot buckles and the creases in his trousers. 

He should read the letter. For what reason would they write him, if not one of great importance?

The others had been scorched, set aflame before the parchment was unravelled to reveal more than the Favonius Coat of Arms. He typically finds a vestige of satisfaction in allowing the stamped ink to smoulder and fall away but...

It isn’t there.

Instead, the letter bears the emblem of his family name.

His falcon is dismissed. She glides through the dull evening and seeks refuge atop a high branch. Only once she begins preening does Diluc’s attention return to the parchment clutched in his fist.

He gouges the Ragnvindr crest with a blade, bending one knee to smear the ink in the snow. It isn’t necessary. Each letter he keeps is then stitched into his jacket lining, but this needless routine of self-preservation is familiar, tried and true.

He stands. Narrowed eyes flick across the page. His sight is obscured by the snowflakes mired in his lashes but he blinks them away, each word bolstering something within him that he wishes not to address.

The anger that festers is white-hot, spiking at the edges until each facet of his being stings.

Only Kaeya is this bold. Hiding behind a crest to which he no longer belongs. Using that horribly sapid handwriting that they had been taught together in their youth. Pretending that he is owed a favour, as though a decade of those weren’t enough.

Diluc presses the back of his hand to his mouth, eyes tightly closed. That isn’t it. Much of his anger directed towards Kaeya faltered with the searing of rain-soaked flesh. Mere vestiges remain.

It seems time away has done little to assuage his distaste for the Knights.

Onyx flames teeter between the ridge of his index and the parchment, but the strange light dissipates with the tremble of his hand. For now, he tucks it into his inner pocket and takes shelter beneath a tall pine.

His falcon keeps watch from above. If a commotion emerges nearby, she will notify him, but Diluc must think for the time being.

The letter is simple, devoid of Kaeya’s flowery, placating language and double entendres, and the message simpler: Inspector Eroch has been purged from the Knights of Favonius and Diluc is permitted to return at last.

The fulfilment of a promise should be gratifying—one more senseless bastard driven out of Mondstadt—but Kaeya’s warning to proceed with caution should not be taken lightly. Eroch’s allies have not yet exposed themselves to the investigation, but they are there, and several of their covert workings presently cause instability within Ordo Favonius.

Despite their differences, Kaeya's judgement is trusted. After all, they were reared by the same hand, the same goal. Their minds are intrinsically tethered together.

Still. Diluc is nothing if not saddled by duty. A legacy sits beneath his skin, bitter and empty and surrounded by stagnant, aged blood. It is Mondstadt that earned his devotion; his family and friends, however few remain. He has a duty as a child of the wind.

He sighs, working his jaw. What choice does he have? They—

They will rescind his exile. They will forgive his transgressions.

This existence is a lonely one, but whether the warm winds of the city will thread him together, he isn’t certain. The community would shun him if they became privy to the truth. Each patrolling knight, complicit or otherwise, would serve as a heavy reminder.

Diluc pulls his glove taut. This place is callous and unwelcoming, a dead-end that stretches for miles of barren desolation. He has scoured all corners while lying in wait.

Gods, has he waited.

His falcon sounds up ahead. There must be trouble nearby.

Hasn’t he done all he can?

[quitethepirategal]

Alternate Universes;

THERE’S A LION LADY IN THE WOODS  ~ 

Vampirzyca ( Vampire ). 

There’s a lion lady in the woods, eyes gold and hair orange red.  Her cabin’s hearth is never lit and no man has seen her bed.  You see, she smells of ashes and freshly torn meats.  Shes too tall and too hairy and walks like a clothed beast.  And on moonless nights she will hunt, kill, and feast.  So if you see her, be polite, or you’re dead…

An au in which Jessica is a beastly witch and vampire.  Back story is relatively flexible but she has a very fixed set of rules to her supernatural existence.  Based very loosely in Slavic, Eastern European, and South East Asian mythology and inspired by the works of Emlyn Boyle and Tumblr user @stil-lindigo.

[ibrithir-was-here]

This thing officially has plot now, hope you enjoy x)

Interlocutor

"Still haven't heard anything from them?"

Daniel looked up from where he'd been brooding on the beach to find Matthew hovering above him, coming down to rest beside him on the sand, giving Daniel a commiserating tilt of his head as he did so. "Maybe they're just busy?"

"No," Daniel said, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. "No they'd have let me know".

It had been a month since he'd seen or even heard from Wish. This was the longest they'd ever been apart since they were children.

His cousin couldn't always sneak away, but they'd always found a way to let him know beforehand if they'd be detained for a long while, and they'd never been gone this long.

"And besides what would they be busy with?" Daniel went on, "Desire doesn't give them anything to do but follow them around."

"Well maybe they're busy doing that then."

Daniel gave a huff of annoyance. He wasn't in the mood for flippant remarks just now. He was worried, really worried.

It wasn't just Wish's physical absence, he hadn't been able to get a feel on their day dreams either. The Endless didn't dream or imagine in the same way mortals did of course, and he couldn't get as clear of a hold on Wish's daydreams anyway as they were within another Endless realm and jurisdiction. But he'd always been able to at least get some sort of feel on them. Now it was like they were being blocked from him…

Dream had told him not to worry, that it was normal for the Endless to go long periods without engaging with each other. His mom and even Hob had told him that friends often started to talk less the older they got, that they were sure Wish would get hold of them soon enough.

But Daniel couldn't shake this feeling that something was wrong, very wrong.

"If I just had a way to get hold of them without having to go through Desire." He muttered, running a hand through his hair and giving it a tug as he tried to think.

It would be so much easier if he and Wish had their own sigils to contact each other with instead of having to go through…

Daniel stood up suddenly, a thought coming to him that he didn't want to waste anymore time in executing. In a whirl of sand that startled a loud squawk from Matthew as he too was pulled along, Daniel found himself in Dream's gallery, and he grasped the book-shaped sigil.

"Destiny, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, will you speak with me?"

Matthew gave another squawk of surprise before coming up to land on Matthew's shoulder.

"Still freaks me out a little each time you do the Boss Voice kiddo."

But Destiny's reply came before Daniel could make his to Matthew.

"Be welcome Daniel Hall, Heir of the Dreaming, Dream to Be"

Daniel stepped through without a second thought, Matthew clinging to his shoulder tightly as they entered the Garden of Forking Ways.

Destiny stood waiting for them, his tall form stil towering over Daniel, despite the recent growth spurt he'd had which had shot him up to Dream's human height. Daniel couldn't help but swallow hard as he neared the figure.

"What do you seek from me, child?" Destiny's calm voice echoed out from beneath his hood.

"It's about--" Daniel hesitated for a moment, unsure which name he ought to use in this case. But in the end he decided that Destiny, being Destiny, likely already knew about Wish's true name. "It's about…Wish."

The nod he received from Destiny seemed to confirm this, and so Daniel rushed on.

"I'm afraid something is wrong, something's happened to them, or is going to happen. I think they're in trouble. I haven't seen them in weeks and I can't reach them through their day dreams. I was hoping--if there's anything you can tell me…"

Daniel trailed off, suddenly wishing he'd thought ahead to plan a speech to explain exactly what he meant, the way Dream would have, instead of just rambling off like the worried teenager he was, who likely just sounded paranoid and maybe a little clingy if anything.

But Destiny's calm voice betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking of Daniel's explanation. He simply thumbed at his book and said, "I cannot tell you what will not be, Daniel Hall, only what will be, and that may not be what you wish to hear. I have told you this before when you came to me concerning your mother."

Daniel swallowed hard once again, remembering how desperate he'd been to find out if his mother would be able to beat her cancer or not…and how terrified he'd been at what the answers might be.

"At that time you chose to seek no further, to let Destiny run its course, no matter which way that might lead. Will you do so again?"

A cold weight settled in the pit of Daniel's stomach. Was Destiny trying to tell him that's what he should do? Simply wait and see what happened, let things play out as they would without seeking to interfere?

Maybe. But if something bad happened, was happening right now, and he could have stopped it…

Daniel felt Matthew give his shoulder a squeeze with his talons. He took a breath, gave the raven a stroke down the back in return, and made up his mind.

"With Mom…with Mom there was nothing I could do by then. I could only wait, and hope. But whatever's happening now with Wish and Desire, I might still be able to help. I think I should help."

Daniel couldn't see Destiny's eyes, but he tried to look into them with determination anyway.

"I at least have to try"

There was a moment of tense silence. Well, it felt tense to Daniel at least, he had no idea what Destiny was feeling, he just kept stroking at his book. Finally, though, the eldest of the Endless spoke again.

"I am Destiny, I contain all paths that will be. And yet I still find it strange, how often things come back to their beginnings in new ways. Dream That Is and Desire have great enmity between them, and will only aid each other if there is something to be gained or a greater cost to be avoided. And yet you, the Dream That Will Be, seek to aid Desire's sundered half with no thought of benefit but their welfare…"

"They're my friend," Daniel said simply, the best explanation he could offer. "My best friend, I love them."

"Dream and Desire were once the closest of all of us. It did not last. Perhaps what is happening is nothing more than a repetition of the pattern."

Destiny's words were not said harshly or coldly, but Daniel still felt as though he'd been slapped.

No, no that couldn't be what was happening. He and Wish might be Dream and Desire's heirs but that didn't mean they were them, not in this.

He couldn't, wouldn't let them end up like that. Not without a fight.

"I can't just let them go without even trying." Daniel declared, clenching his fists and standing straight, as though preparing then and there for a battle.

"Whatever is going on, I'm going to at least talk to Wish before I decide anything."

Destiny hummed slightly, a sound that could have meant anything. Determined not to leave without getting some real progress Daniel went back to his original question.

"Is there anything you can tell me to help me get in contact with them? Without Desire knowing about it?" He added quickly.

If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that whatever was happening would go a lot smoother if Desire wasn't involved.

Destiny considered him for another interminably long pause, before finally saying, "The pages that tell of the fate of Desire's child-self have yet to be written. I cannot turn them yet, I feel they are shifting between two possible outcomes."

Well. That announcement did nothing to calm Daniel's nerves, but Destiny wasn't finished apparently, as his finger skimmed down the page while his face stayed fixed on Daniel.

"However, you, Daniel Hall, Dream that Will Be, will gain an interlocutor between yourself and Desire's Child when you summon the Three Who Are One"

Daniel sucked in a breath, Matthew gave yet another squawk, this time laced with anxiousness that Daniel couldn't help but feel himself.

Right, guess he'd better start gathering some offerings then.

[polaroidcats]

15 questions

Thank you @squintclover for tagging me in this tag game!! <3 I loved reading your answers to these questions!

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY? No, my parents just liked my name, and its meaning. My mum originally wanted to name me Ursula but my dad vetoed that name because he was afraid I'd get bullied in school.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Uhmmmm probably last week in therapy?

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Nopeeeeeee just a fur babyyyyyy <3

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Yeah, but I've been trying to tone it down more because sometimes it leads to misunderstandings.

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? I can't think of any? Not a huge sports person. Love watching roller derby though, I WISH I could play that.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE? Idk just their general vibes? And their hair and height and voice and things like that I guess.

7. EYE COLOUR? greenish swamp colour

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? ALL THE HAPPY ENDINGS PLS I don't like scary movies! I have watched exactly 2 scary movies in my entire life, and had my eyes closed or covered for both of them most of the time.

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS? idk what qualifies as a special talent? I taught myself to be ambidextrous out of boredom during online uni, so now I can also write with my left hand *insert bi joke here*

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? in a hospital :D

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? tumblerDOTcom!!1, reading (either political nonfiction books or ALL the fanfic), various arts and crafts, gardening, or just, lying in a hammock in the garden whilst reading, generally spending time in nature hiking, biking, swimming etc. I also recently also started playing the cello again more AND IT'S SO FUN!

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS? yes yes yessssss his name is apollo and i don't post enough about him so here's a pic:

he even has his own tag on my tumblr (#hungry greek god) but it's pretty empty so far. my former pet ella had the tag #my little roommate and she was adorable and i still miss her every day </3

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 176cm!

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? i think it used to be just all the language subjects, so english, french, german and latin (lol). can't relate to liking latin anymore but back then I LOVED it.

15. DREAM JOB? oddly enough I'm not a huge fan of the whole concept of jobs and capitalism, not sure what that's all about. but tbh as far as jobs go, i kind of have my ideal job? I've always said I want to do a combination of part time social work and part time something academic, like maybe at one point teach at a university or be part of a research team or something. And whilst that's stil far away I feel like I mightttttt be on a good path to get there which is honestly wild and incredibe and I don't want to jinx it!!

I never know who to tag in these games because I don't want to tag people who don't enjoy doing tags, so I'm not going to tag anyone specific buuuut if you want to do the tag please just feel free to pretend I tagged you, and then next time I'll know who to tag for real! <3

[fabiansteinhauer]

Gentleman

The great hall: hier könnte auch William Wade, also Thomas Gainsboroughs Gemälde des Captains der englischen Navy, des Zeremonienmeisters oder Protokollchefs hängen, wenn es nicht woanders hängen müsste, nämlich in der Victoria Art Gallery.

In der großen (Eingangs-)Halle hängen gerade 10 Portraits und Doppelportraits im großen Stil. Gainsbororoughs Doppelportrait der Hallets und ihres Hundes, dessen Wischmopphaftigkeit derjenigen von Mrs. Hallets Frisur kaum nachsteht, hängt hier gleich ums Eck: links neben Drouais' Portrait des Comte de Vaudreuil.

Nahezu alle Portraits stammen aus der Phase, der Thomas Vesting in seiner Geschichte und Theorie der Rechtssubjekte die Figur des Gentleman zugeordnet hat (und die er mit William Wades Bild illustriert hat.

Wie singen die Groben in England zu dem Portrait?

All at once I was struck with the portrait of Wade, 

Which tho’ like him in feature tis much too tall made 

And looks, like its master – ashamed of its trade 

For it’s drawn as if walking alone in the fields 

In a jauntee undress which the present mode yields 

Uncovered – as tho he intended to bow 

To an ox or an ass – to a heffer or cow. 

[the-firebird69]

It's kind of risky but you can make it step like this like we have and you can put butter and other things to melt on the side chocolate even and you can make containers that don't fall off and people can dip stuff in it while it's melted or take it to the table this is a terrific idea too I think I'm gonna do this and when you hinge it over it'll integrate with the side and the top and the left is like a cutting counter and it's got a hinge and you could chop your meat and you can chop your veggies wash it off and it's smooth stone. There's a few materials people make it out of one of them might be the clay which doesn't have anything in it that clay. Be very solid that he would go through it slower and be more uniform it would be intense but this is the idea and it's a great idea to make it go down to the ground a little they would be that tall and they'd be a little bit steeper and it wouldn't fall over like all grills do eventually they'll probably make a portable one and the wheels would retract and you'd still have the clean out it's a very slick idea you could make it on a blocks too and and glue them together with the right mastic I'm gonna start working on mine. As for you guys to look at.

Bitol and Goddess Wife

we do this and awesome we work but ok nice. and we work on ouir design get it going. fun ide. too. the round ones wrk great and you can make it taller square bottom no noeed no it is ok but relly squre on the front is accepbable and can be done esily. or up a foot andh alf square and then pyramid but stil you will see works down low. and could have a series. and next to each ohter and the top folds and integrates with itself and the next one. forming a counter wiht several tops and nice dea i use it

he likes it and will try it.

Lobo and Proxima Midnight and good we are together we do this now good

Olympus

[libidomechanica]

For slippeak; ind talled, and woops up from hee too see, eten

Is breaster your, and, and she that fret now them, weetst dust use; we no aroung

chame: ther’s been Praists snake the kiss, all downe, thers o’ play stil sun: non. Less,

not flage wing, thand morturning powerest. For slippeak; ind talled, and

woops up from hee too see, eten on my ming is too, not to in to

thee new will rigmage drea’s King invel it remore—not back had bed yieldom.

God quarth Crown’s voicell here of Poles, streatsoever althout outh, th’d is

experposit will the manhabit enor agone, but wed to the

divine, and like greath adown down fat smishe fromened caused was pled, myrrhorth

over so den, readfast ring the choir for comewhat am

grown, she skye, let still thate, Ancome fation me or youndement, the gain;

I he rough, nor contry did scrame at thunded tu-which violly blace: mour

have: but I decred needeside, and glute closophand breams, as it we

comes they mighs. Fault rease? My twish. And beneath city; One chauen ture, and have

drown my est from when we excussly powestreedeside which and

yet knew, and brigitart teart doth leave acreak his yet know my say betic

made timbs, I she born! And us: his died. Why, he body. What was

thould and nothe shake good, and, tillaste hole Pring elden that a suddescent

angreato sike to keep glimpleepenable refooth toad, acreof thine.

[shardsofswords]

The painting on my desk

So, in september of 2021, I went to a fantasy festival and bought a painting. It was by Paul Yperman, a french artist who attends multipe of these kinds of festivals and events all throughout europe and whose work i've been a fan of ever since i first saw it, on that same festival years earlier.

Here's some of his work (and his facebook https://www.instagram.com/ypermanpaul/?hl=en from what i know he sells his work online too, through facebook. So if you live in europe i highly recommend it)

As a younger teenager i'd bought the cheapest item in his shop, a small framed painting on paper, about a5 size, it cost about 10 euros at the time. It stil stands in my childhood bedroom, on my desk. But this time, i was older, i'd had a parttime job or a while, and i could afford an actual canvas piece.

My handbag was my grandmother's old one, she had jsut died and this was the first time i'm using it after my grandfather gave it to me. its smell reminded me of her. it had two facemasks in it that smelled like her too. I wore one, even though that's probably not hygienic. I gave the other one to a stranger who forgot his and couldn't enter the bus without one. It wasn't covid that killed her, it was probably fine. Maybe. When the smell faded i kind of regretted giving that second one away.

There was a painting in my grandparents' house of an old traditional windmill in their town that doens't exist anymore. My grandmother loved windmills, my father told me on the day of her funeral that she was delighted when the town they moved to, my childhood home, was in walking distance of more than 5.

It took me more than 20 minutes to choose a painting of Paul Yperman to buy. I'd wanted this for so long, and they're also beautiful. i'd gotten it down to two when i saw something in the corner of my eye. This one had a windmill on it.

That's the one i bought.

I carried it back home with me wrapped in paper, put it on my lap in the train and bus (it was tall enough that i could not see past it when i did that) and watched my every step, scared to death that something would happen to it.

It got home unscathed. but, because i was renting my student appartment, and didn't know if i was allowed to drill any holes in the walls, and didn't have anything for alternative options on hand, I didn't hang it, just unpacked it and set in on my desk, which was also my dining table, against the wall.

And it stayed there. I learned i was allowed to drill in the walls, and it stayed there. I discussed methods and placements with my parents, and it stayed there. I ate my dinner carefully to not splash any food or grease on it. It stayed there. I failed every single exam i took that year, and it stayed there. Like a momument to my executive dysfunction. Can't study, flake on the sport lessons my parents are paying for until the trainers text me worried if somethign happened to me (I don't answer. I don't tell my parents either.) don't hang the painting. I end the year technically allowed to continue my study, because in my country's system after you pass your first year you can take however long you like, but when i tell a study advisor i'm considering switching he tells me that's a good idea, because clearly this isn't working.

So i move back home, i go to a school that's only a one hour trip away, just short enough to make every day. I'm too scared to completely give up and don't officially move out of the appartment, just hire it out to another student. So all the furniture stays. But the painting comes home with me.

I ruin it immediately, i fail my first period at my new study so bad it is now by all accounts impossible for me to pass the whole year. I never actually unregistered from the old one, unable to let go, as i said. That turns out to have been the right decision. The student who was renting my room finds another place, I move back in. I'll have to make it work, somehow.

I pass my first exam there, i just barely fail the second, but last year for that very same exam i sat at my table for half an hour before turning in an empty answer sheet and leaving without making eye contact with the examinator, so let's call it an improvement. My therapist when i came in last time told me i was noticably more relaxed and comfortable.

I'm eating my dinner and wondering why, when everything is going much better than last time, does cooking and eating feel less fun.

And I look up and I realize

The painting stayed back home.

I convinced my mom to hang it in our living room a short few weeks before i stopped lying to her and admitted i was failing.

I am staring at my wall and i realize that i didn't look at it at all when i went back this weekend. For all that I hated myself for not properly hanging it up and what that meant about me whenever I saw it, it was a really beautiful painting. One i'd been planning for a full year to buy. One that i loved, that made eating my dinner alone less lonely.

Before it was on the living room wall back in my childhood home, it was back in that same old paper packaging i carried it home in ( I never actualy threw that away) standing in a corner of my bedroom. That exact space is now occupied by two old paintings from my grandparent's home. One of them is the one with the windmill. My grandfather isn't alive anymore either. They died 8 months apart. He wasn't there to offer me anything of his so from the attic i took an old school diary from his student days, where half the pages were falling out. And the paintings, of course. Since then, i've taken up bookbinding.

I am still looking at my empty wall.

I'd considered hanging it above my bed last year, to make the wall i saw first thing in the morning a bit livelier.

I've changed my mind. I want to hang it right above the my desk. With the other painting of the windmill next to it. they'll clash, the colors don't fit together. I don't care.

I'll have to make it work, somehow

[grey-tones]

Wear platforms anyways, tower above everyone

valid point, I already wear combat boots with a like 2 inch heel, but I have a lot of confidence issues when it comes to my height

[guardiandae]

Ugh. I'm googling pics of Ryan Reynolds standing next to Josh Brolin because reasons. Height difference reasons. And I already know damn well what their height difference is, the real reason is because I'm fucking weak.

And then:

This is too much I hate them why won't they just kiss

ETA: I cant stop staring at this pic they're so adorable together but also Nate would be the perfect height to just???? Kiss Wade's neck????! Whenever he wants??!!!! Wade is defenseless plz im dying

[mushroomlupin]

hi hello i saw you were taking requests i hope that’s stil true <3

i was hoping for some frank castle + cockwarming .... just a thought i had in the middle of the night, feel free to do whatever you want with it !!

much love !! <3333

Clean You Up

Pairing: frank castle x f!reader

Summary: frank comes home to reader and she draws him a bath

Requested: yes or no

Warnings: brief mentions of blood, stitching & cleaning up wounds, cockwarming, and tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 1,166

Masterlist & Ao3

You were sat on the sofa of you and Frank’s shared apartment, reading a book. Going to sleep was useless; you’d just end up tossing and turning, thoughts of worst-case scenarios and the sound of your racing heartbeat keeping you from falling asleep. He was at “work”, which meant he was either in some dark alleyway or some abandoned building beating the shit out of assholes that deserved it.

The first aid kit was already out on the bathroom counter, waiting for your steady hands to tend to his wounds. Though you weren’t as educated as you’d like to have been on tending to wounds and the overall anatomy of the body, there was something so intimate about stitching him up. Frank simply didn’t trust people and that was something you’d learnt the hard way. But after being in a relationship with him for nearly a year, he considered you the only person he trusted at all. He trusted your steady hands as you used tweezers to carefully remove the bullet from his body. He trusted your gentle fingers and the way you caressed the needle, puncturing his skin as you threaded his wound shut. As you drew him a bath to scrub him of the blood and dirt that clung to his skin, moving the warm washcloth over even the tenderest of bruises, he would watch you in awe. It was moments like this where he was most vulnerable and you used the gentlest touch to take care of him.

You cherished this time with him in the quiet of the early mornings within the four walls of your small bathroom.

The sound of the front door’s doorknob made you instinctively shut your book. With Frank’s wounds, you always anticipated the worst. The door swung open, revealing his tall frame. You stood from the sofa, examining his body.

He was covered in blood as usual. Most of the time, it wasn’t his, but you had to be certain.

His big brown eyes watched you from afar.

“‘M goin’ easy on you tonight, kid,” he joked, answering your unspoken question. “Just a lil’ scratched up is all.”

Your shoulders relaxed, but a part of you remained skeptical. Frank had a way of understating his injuries.

You gestured for him to follow you to the bathroom as he kicked the front door shut behind him. The heavy footsteps of his boots grounded you, protecting you from the eery silence of the flat. It was as if your apartment was a ghost of a place without him there. Frank’s presence kept it alive, made it a true home.

Following your usual routine, he stripped himself of his shirt for you to begin your work. Surprisingly, he’d told the truth; there were only a few scratches that needed cleaning up and the stitches you’d given him the previous night remained intact. You were impressed to say the least.

“What’d you do, talk to them nicely? Let ‘em off with a warning?” you laughed.

He hummed. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

It didn’t take long for you to finish, gently pressing a kiss to his shoulder before you plugged the tub drain and turned the faucet on.

“Thank you.” He pressed his lips into your hair, keeping them there for a moment to inhale the smell of your shampoo. Then, he kicked his boots off and rid himself of the remaining clothes on his body.

You tossed some lavender bath salts into the water once the tub had filled up, providing the bathroom with a nice aroma.

Your boyfriend carefully stepped into the bath, relishing in the warmth as he sat down and relaxed his muscles. You kneeled on the tile floor to fetch the bottle of his shampoo, but before your hand could touch the plastic bottle, he gently grabbed your hand.

“Why don’t you come in, hm?” He nudged his head toward his lap.

You frowned. “You sure?”

“Positive,” he ran a wet thumb across your knuckles before letting go of you.

He watched as you pulled your sweatshirt over your head and slid both your panties and your sweatpants off of your legs. His eyes roamed over your body, his pupils dilated and soaking in every possible detail of you. You dipped your feet in before finally settling in his lap, your back resting against his warm chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him.

He put his head in the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“Missed you, sweetheart.”

You blushed, turning your head to look at him.

His hair was starting to grow out, the previous buzzcut becoming a mop of dark curls. He had a bruise underneath his left eye and a cut on his forehead that you’d cleaned up just moments ago. His hand came up, his thumb and index finger gently caressing your chin. You smiled at the contact, leaning your face towards him to pull him in for a kiss. Your lips moved together slowly, his tongue licking a stripe against your bottom lip for you to decide whether or not you wanted more. You opened your lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside your mouth, and yours slipping inside his.

You groaned, a hand coming to grab his hair at the nape of his neck. You could feel his shaft hardening against your back. You pulled away to maneuver yourself so that you were now facing him, straddling his lap. Your lips found another’s once more, his hands moving to graze the skin of your bare back.

“Missed you, baby,” he muttered, his lips moving to your neck. “Thought about you all day.”

You sighed at the feeling of his warm lips sucking at your neck, grinding yourself against him in response.

His teeth gently nipped at you, his tongue swiping over the skin to soothe it. A hand moved from your back to your front, gently caressing a breast in his hand and kneading it.

“Frank,” you sighed, swiveling your hips against him.

He hummed against your neck before bringing his lips back to yours.

“I wanna feel you,” he admitted. “I don’t think I got it in me to fuck you right now, but I need to feel you, baby.”

You figured as much; he’d been out since seven that morning. Not to mention, you were incredibly exhausted yourself.

“It’s okay, Frank,” you assured him, peppering his face with kisses. “Wanna feel you too.”

You lifted your hips up, grabbing his cock in your hand. Once you felt his tip at your entrance, you slowly sat down, impaling yourself with his shaft.

The two of you let out a sigh of pleasure, his cock sheathed entirely inside of you. You felt utterly full and satisfied.

You rested your head against his chest, his steady heartbeat like music against your ear. His big arms slipped around you, securing you to him.

In this moment, you’d never felt more safe and secure.