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the first set...
here, then, be the first set of requests; the rest are on their way :9
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cagalli_chan, who requested boomer/bubbles + poker:
“I thought you said you didn’t know how to play,” Boomer muttered, eyeing the cards on the table with ill-concealed malice.
“I didn’t say a single thing. And for that matter, I don’t exactly remember you asking me in the first place,” Bubbles preened back.
Boomer continued to stare at the table like a petulant child.
She crossed her arms and reclined in her seat, relishing the glimmer of triumph that was warming her cheeks. “So…”
He shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m just playing by your rules, you know.”
“Yeah, I—” Boomer slid a hand across his bare chest a little self-consciously. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stood, undoing his jeans.
Bubbles was grinning something fierce through her nervous blush. His hands hesitated, hovered, then quickly pushed his loose jeans to the ground.
The smile that had been plastered on Bubbles’ face quickly drained off, and now it was her turn to direct her eyes at the cards on the table. She could already feel her blush deepening, slipping below the collar of her shirt.
“Commando,” she squeaked, and swallowed. Her hands were practically shaking. “Um. Nice.”
***
formathkid, who requested the following two pieces:
brick/buttercup + a dark alley:
Brick reminds her of a dark alley.
Buttercup’s very familiar with dark alleys; she practically grew up in them. They’re intimidating and dark and mysterious and you never quite feel safe around them.
Butch is a dumb jerk and Boomer’s just dumb, but Brick is unsettling and dangerously quiet, and Buttercup knows she should avoid him.
But. Buttercup is very familiar with dark alleys, and the thrill she gets from them—the quickened heartbeat, the shallow breath, the tingle down her spine—mirrors the shudder she can’t seem to quell when Brick meets her eyes.
***
butch/buttercup + a river + rain:
“Crap. It isn’t letting up at all.” Buttercup made a face at the rain-buffeted window, greys and greens of the world dappled in warbly spots against the glass.
Butch shivered and shook his head again, sending little bullets of water shooting from his hair. “Dammit. I hate being wet, and I hate being cold, and now that the two have been combined I am a raging ball of hate full of even more hate for everything.”
“How poetic,” Buttercup muttered, shivering a bit herself. Butch was right, it was cold. “Why don’t you just fly home?”
“And add 80 mile-an-hour wind to the mix? ‘F that.”
“You’d be moving, at least.” She stamped her feet for emphasis, trying to encourage some bloodflow. “You’d probably warm up quicker.”
“I got a better idea,” he suddenly said, and stalked over to where she stood, pulling her body flush against his.
She went stiff. “What the—”
“Body heat,” he groused, and he was maybe kinda right: Buttercup did feel warmer. Up close she could see a million little rainwater rivers streaming down his neck; an entire tributary system mapped on his skin.
She watched a bead of water etch a new one down, finally dispersing at the collar of his shirt. She exhaled slowly, her breath a warm little explosion of air against his neck, and he shivered again, edged a little closer, and said, “That feels nice.”
Buttercup blinked. “Um, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
***
the rest that were requested are coming! in the meantime, feel free to hit me up with more: requests are still going strong :D
for
cagalli_chan, who requested boomer/bubbles + poker:“I thought you said you didn’t know how to play,” Boomer muttered, eyeing the cards on the table with ill-concealed malice.
“I didn’t say a single thing. And for that matter, I don’t exactly remember you asking me in the first place,” Bubbles preened back.
Boomer continued to stare at the table like a petulant child.
She crossed her arms and reclined in her seat, relishing the glimmer of triumph that was warming her cheeks. “So…”
He shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m just playing by your rules, you know.”
“Yeah, I—” Boomer slid a hand across his bare chest a little self-consciously. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stood, undoing his jeans.
Bubbles was grinning something fierce through her nervous blush. His hands hesitated, hovered, then quickly pushed his loose jeans to the ground.
The smile that had been plastered on Bubbles’ face quickly drained off, and now it was her turn to direct her eyes at the cards on the table. She could already feel her blush deepening, slipping below the collar of her shirt.
“Commando,” she squeaked, and swallowed. Her hands were practically shaking. “Um. Nice.”
***
for
mathkid, who requested the following two pieces:brick/buttercup + a dark alley:
Brick reminds her of a dark alley.
Buttercup’s very familiar with dark alleys; she practically grew up in them. They’re intimidating and dark and mysterious and you never quite feel safe around them.
Butch is a dumb jerk and Boomer’s just dumb, but Brick is unsettling and dangerously quiet, and Buttercup knows she should avoid him.
But. Buttercup is very familiar with dark alleys, and the thrill she gets from them—the quickened heartbeat, the shallow breath, the tingle down her spine—mirrors the shudder she can’t seem to quell when Brick meets her eyes.
***
butch/buttercup + a river + rain:
“Crap. It isn’t letting up at all.” Buttercup made a face at the rain-buffeted window, greys and greens of the world dappled in warbly spots against the glass.
Butch shivered and shook his head again, sending little bullets of water shooting from his hair. “Dammit. I hate being wet, and I hate being cold, and now that the two have been combined I am a raging ball of hate full of even more hate for everything.”
“How poetic,” Buttercup muttered, shivering a bit herself. Butch was right, it was cold. “Why don’t you just fly home?”
“And add 80 mile-an-hour wind to the mix? ‘F that.”
“You’d be moving, at least.” She stamped her feet for emphasis, trying to encourage some bloodflow. “You’d probably warm up quicker.”
“I got a better idea,” he suddenly said, and stalked over to where she stood, pulling her body flush against his.
She went stiff. “What the—”
“Body heat,” he groused, and he was maybe kinda right: Buttercup did feel warmer. Up close she could see a million little rainwater rivers streaming down his neck; an entire tributary system mapped on his skin.
She watched a bead of water etch a new one down, finally dispersing at the collar of his shirt. She exhaled slowly, her breath a warm little explosion of air against his neck, and he shivered again, edged a little closer, and said, “That feels nice.”
Buttercup blinked. “Um, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
***
the rest that were requested are coming! in the meantime, feel free to hit me up with more: requests are still going strong :D
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Off to request more!
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red hearts trump black hearts :P
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sparkling hearts trump red hearts :p
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BLINKING HEARTS TRUMP SPARKLING HEARTS
WITNESS THE MAGIC YOU CANNOT DENY
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CRUDELY DRAWN HEARTS TRUMP BLINKING HEARTS
SOMETHING DRAWN OUT OF MS PAINT IS MORE MEANINGFUL THAN MAGIC
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