#fuckindone

[spiralshiftbye]

✄ﾟ*・ﾟ  anonymous / @fuckindone​ asked:  Holds hand but also kisses every single finger tip and knuckle

   perhaps, they’re getting much too bold. one (retired) king at the head of a very dysfunctional castle had visited his son at the precinct one day. that same audacious man cornered a will who, even knowing more about marcus banks than fucking marcus banks knows himself, was surprised. must be a familial thing between them. people are so predictable. marcus and zeke are not.

   captain garza can also tell what’s happening. he can see it in her eyes. she’s observant, he’ll give her that. probably makes what she’s done worse. but he knows she can see they stand closer to each other now. that they’re away from the precinct together longer than they should be. that their are these looks exchanged between the two partners, ugly little laughs given at each other’s jokes, caught glimpses of one hand brushing across the other.

   angie hasn’t said anything, not to him. but, of course, it was a topic of conversation he couldn’t avoid with a belligerent father intent on battering whatever he could in his path. will wasn’t too sure about how marcus would handle knowing zeke’s been shoving another man into his vehicle to do a little something-something. it isn’t as if he needs his approval, of course, will couldn’t care about the opinion of some volatile crook. what matters most is what zeke feels about his father knowing.

   marcus only threatened william with harm should harm come to his son. will fought to keep his lips from twitching when he said the words. i would never hurt your son, chief.

   and--that is true, irony aside. a warm hand gripping his own when they’re short of company in the station has will looking down. it’s still... surreal. surreal how well their hands fit together. god. he’ll never get used to the way his chest butterflies when they touch.

   “pretty sure your dad hates my fucking guts.” the semblance of a smile piques his lips when his knuckles are kissed. something small, something bashful. “you know i’m gonna take care of you, right? i would do anything for you.”

   and everything.

[spiralshiftbye]

✄ﾟ*・ﾟ  anonymous / @fuckindone​ asked: Kisses his throat - fuckindone c: ​

   the pleasant smell of sacred ground coffee fills the apartment he’d invited zeke back to.

  the early morning hours seem to be the only where will can catch even the smallest hint of sleep behind his heavy, burdened eyelids. he’d climbed out of bed to catch a shower that felt like it was going to melt the skin off his bones and filled the bathroom with mist--the right kind of shower. then, will dressed in a clean white shirt and his boxers, standing in the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

   the truth is, even with his arms around will or his own arms around zeke, he misses him while he’s asleep. he longs for the hours to pass, for him to open his dark eyes and spit fire in the way that tugs will’s lips into a smile.

   so even after he’s settled back in bed next to zeke and tangled him in his own arms, even after he finally feels his mind fading into black quiet, he relishes in feeling that sudden movement next to him. feeling that kiss on his throat, the one that has him smiling without even opening his eyes and holding him tighter when he mumbles out.

   “go back to sleep, zeke, you’re probably exhausted.”

[spiralshift]

✄ﾟ*・ @fuckindone / @sourentropy​ (wife) asked: Zeke rolled Will's tie around his hand and yanked him up to meet his lips. Their kiss was intimate and heated before he pulled away and buried him into his neck, biting him hard enough to mark him. "Happy Birthday, Baby boy."

william’s birthday is unimportant and insignificant. he scarcely remembers it himself, only ever celebrated it up to twelve years of age, and then it just became another day, one of three hundred sixty-five others. certainly, at age thirteen, did will not even bother to bring it up to the man who locked him in the foyer each time there was perceived speaking out of turn. each time harmless words lacerated a fragile ego. every time one man decided to play god with the money he got from the government each month for picking up this poor little orphan boy off the street.

--of course, moving into his second foster home, birthdays were a big deal at first. will was eased into a false sense of importance. you give a starved man a shit-sandwich, and he just appreciates that you’re feeding him in the first place. then, when true colors began to ease their way out of the woodwork, when schoolbooks and essays became dampened with dark red, it all changed. suddenly, death was the most important thing. death was the celebration instead.

for these reasons, will doesn’t remember his own birthday. it’s probably been over a decade since he last did, and he’s sure zeke had to use his own sleuthing skills to even figure it out. right. couples care about that sort of thing, don’t they? he’s forgotten what it means to be a couple, despite the fact that he worships the gold-paved ground zeke walks on. 

so the sudden intimate kiss he’s pulled into by his tie, one of the one’s where will is once again yanked into a precinct storage closet and heatedly biting his lip and feeling his tongue in his mouth--he doesn’t question it anymore, doesn’t think anything of it in his suddenly-inebriated state until zeke speaks. oh. right.

something in his chest tugs at the gesture. of course zeke would find out about his birthday. of course zeke would care enough to celebrate. it’s zeke. he’s caught in a limbo of being stunned for a moment that zeke even made the effort to find out about his birthday. even if zeke digging up any info on him is slightly dangerous, in the moment where the flesh of his neck is tugged between teeth and his back is arching, he doesn’t worry. not so much. he’s tired of fucking worrying.

“you’re so fucking good to me, zeke.”

[spiralshift]

✄ﾟ*・ @fuckindone​​ asked:  Grabs shoulders "snap outta it, mother fucker!"

   a haze. a curtain of unyielding, liquid red, over his vision. there’s meat slaughtered before him, the monster’s fingertips dripping with blood. there’s more of it in his mind’s eye than there actually is. but it’s still everywhere. all over the wooden boards in the floor. soaking into the cracks. he hadn’t even realized zeke had slid up behind him.

   there’s moments of clarity in the abyss. moments of clarity when his teeth have torn apart what’s in front of him. sure, the spider god tearing open the sky doesn’t quite appreciate its new killer not playing by the rules, but he hears it whisper its enthusiasm in words he can’t quite understand but still somehow seep into his brain. do it.

   will turns, and in a brief moment, the red clouds in his fucked little head part. wire tendrils embedded in his skin sway with his movements, the same wires that drained marcus banks of all of his blood. they’re like extra appendages now, not especially strong, but enough to aid him. red reflects off of his newly-nocturnal eyes when he lifts off his ghastly, rotting mask.

   “ah, i didn’t see you there.” his voice is quiet. he hasn’t spoken actual words in days. everything comes out in a growl now. but it makes sense that zeke pulls him out of it. after all, he could never hurt zeke. “i wish it hadn’t brought you here. it knows damn well i’m not going to do anything to hurt you.” even so, the smallest look of smugness pulls at his lips.

   he gestures to the eviscerated body on the floor. “sorry you had to see that. weren’t really supposed to. i was feeling hungry. still gotta eat.”

[spiralshiftbye]

✄ﾟ*・ﾟ @fuckindone​  asked: Gently cups his face, kissing him deeply.

   being careful is the art of always preparing to head face-first into oncoming disaster--like driving against moving traffic but driving at a pace just right to dodge oncoming vehicles. that’s one of the lessons will learned in the academy, though not in such a way. you can follow all the safety regulations in the world, but at the end of the day, you’re statistically more likely than anyone else to catch a bullet in the middle of your day-job. you know, next to soldiers or mobsters.

   thankfully, it wasn’t a bullet will caught today, but the hand of their perp instead. he fled as soon as he saw them approaching--why do they always flee if they don’t want to look guilty? the pair managed to chase him into one of the many seedy apartment buildings inhabiting the area, but it was will who suffered the onslaught of the man’s fists. instead of running like a frightened rabbit, the perp wised up and decided an ambush was the next best plan.

   despite even his best efforts to defend himself and zeke having his back as always, will’s temple caught the end of the perp’s coffee table. for a moment, the world was far away, the vision of his right eye clouded with red. next thing he knew, the world resurfaced, and zeke had his knee on the shitstain’s back. trust zeke banks to get the job done.

   will is going to be fine. he knows he is. yeah, stitches so close to his fucking eye are going to suck, and zeke’s eyes when he’s examining him make his heart sink, but all-in-all, his good mood remains. hell, it does every single day they’re together, concussion or not. he’s not worthy to be with him. he knows that. but he can’t help but self-indulge.

   let him have just one good fucking thing in his life.

   a warm smile piques at his lips when zeke cups his face. his lips still feel soft. he’s all his. a reassuring hand reaches up to weave itself through zeke’s hair when they part, forehead leaning against his.

   “i’m all right, i promise, baby.” his tone is soft, but his eyes practically glow. “thank you for putting him on his ass, i don’t know what i would’ve done without you.”

[spiralshiftbye]

me: says this really creepy headcanon about will that makes him look even more fucked up and stalkerish that i'm not comfortable admitting here

wife: aww that's so cute

me: ... no

[spiralshiftbye]

me while watching spiral with @fuckindone last night while we're both overanalyizing it: oh sorry babe one sec a cute pig is addressing us

[magic-is-my-muse]

Wanna slit my wrists and go out Kelly style