#[others.ships]

[confettifox-ships]

Prompt 23 - Holding hands under the table

My f/o is Nicodeme Savoy from the webcomic/series Lackadaisy! He works as a hitman for the speakeasy Marigold- is very brash and loud despite the fact that he’s supposed to be discrete with his hits. He works alongside his younger sister, Serafine, who shares his personality but is definitely the brains of the two- and Mordecai, who’s very calculated and skilled in his job.

Nico grew up in the Bayou with his sister, having been raised by Voodooiennes and growing acquainted with the wildlife. He particularly likes reptiles

My s/i is a snow leopard college student named Walker Brightman, who also loves animals and studying them. He’s very socially awkward, not knowing people or social cues very well. To continue paying for school, he studied alcohol fermentation and started his own gin joint where he sells alcohol to his classmates. Him and Nico met when Walker was dragged to the speakeasy Nico works for and won him a game of pool

Lackadaisy takes place in the Prohibition Era, so Walker and Nico holding hands under the table could be them trying to be discrete about their relationship? I don’t know, I’ll leave that up to you!

-@floofselfshipblog

i hope you like it <3

@floofsselfshipblog

Nicodeme’s paw weighs heavily in yours. He’s uncharacteristically quiet at the moment, chewing thoughtfully on the toothpick he lets droop out of his mouth. His whiskers twitch occasionally, the only acknowledgement that you really need of his awareness of you and your presence. That, and the rough pads of his paw, gently holding onto you.

It’s dark in the speakeasy now, the reason your current entanglement has yet to be discovered. Secrets are easiest to hide in dark corners, under tables. They’re also easy to hide when most of the cats around you are delirious with contraband liquor.

You watch the side of Nico’s face as he demolishes his toothpick, not using it for its intended purpose but instead chewing it to splinters. His eyes flash over to meet yours. It catches you off guard for him to look directly at you, and not only because he sees you. His eyes are a sharp gold, bright and intoxicating. It’s like staring into the sun, so bright that you can’t look away and leaving an imprint on your vision behind in its wake, so it’s still there when you close your eyes.

His pupils dilate noticeably when he looks at you. His nose twitches and you watch his lips curl into a smirk. He’s caught you staring. He winks, one of his ears twitching.

“See somethin’ y’like, cher?” He purrs, voice low and soft. His words drip heavy with a deep, honeyed southern accent. The flavors of Louisiana are inescapable when he speaks, which sends shivers through you. The whisper is for you, too. Nobody can hear him but you. He quirks up one heavy eyebrow at you, insufferably beautiful even when he’s taunting you.

Of course you do. You always do. He knows that. You want to tell him, you want to shout it from the rooftops. Instead, you squeeze his paw firmly. It’s a simple touch but it conveys all that you really need to.

[confettifox-ships]

hi!! for the prompt blurbs.. kisses in the rain + desperate kisses combined f/o is jimmy mcgill/saul goodman from better call saul/breaking bad - he's kind of a dick, cuts corners and takes shortcuts rather than working for things he wants, criminal lawyer who tried to be legit and help people before deciding to just do it for the money. kinda closed off and wary of close relationships but gets attached real easy (abandonment issues) s/i is lucian donne (or mcgill, depending on when in our relationship it is), psychologist, friends with jimmy since college (so like, at least 15 years) and has had a massive crush on him for their entire friendship. nervous, sensitive, takes things to heart too much and has major abandonment issues relationship is basically Slow Burn Premium, jimmy didn't realize he Could like guys until he was told point blank that everyone can see it except for him and lucian. years of mutual pining except neither of them knew it was mutual. we tease and make fun of each other all the time, our love language is pretty much just bullying but we'd also die for each other if needed. like we call each other names and then cuddle on the couch all night because we're In Love

@tothemoon-ships

thank you for your patience! hope u enjoy! @tothemoon-ships

someday i'll get around to watching bb and bcs, i need to since im FROM new mexico

It rarely rains in New Mexico, just during the summertime months, and only for brief periods, where rain torrents painfully from the sky and subsides within only about a half an hour. You and Jimmy have been walking outside for about ten minutes as rain crashes down. The exhaustion has crawled into the lines of Jimmy’s face now that there’s time to hold still. Despite his frequent cutting of corners and dodging through legal red tape, his work takes a toll on him. He sits down on the cement doorstep next to you, avoiding the rain but embracing the smell of the desert in the rain. 

Jimmy never knew that he was allowed to like men. It really never had actually clicked that he did, he’d just always had you and he’d known the way he felt about you but it had taken a long time for him to clock that the butterflies in his stomach were more than just frequent bouts of indigestion. Perhaps an inhumanly long time but it is what it is; it’s all good, man, after all. Jimmy turns his head to look at you, his eyes soft and blue as the Albuquerque sky. 

You’d expected your first kiss to be softer or with some kind of build up. When you’d imagined it, lying in your bed late at night, you hadn’t been quite sure how to imagine it—always soft, but sometimes a lean in, you hate to admit it but the stupid “boy lean” appeals to you, or maybe it would be in a familiar place. Instead, it’s on the sidewalk, his hair plastering to your cheeks as the rain continues. His hands grip your cheeks and pull you in so closely that the only thing you know is him. His smell, his taste, the warmth of his upper lip, the press of his nose against your cheek. 

The kiss catches you entirely off guard, but you grip his shoulders to ground yourself. When he breaks away, it is just as the rain stops, with the sun shining through the clouds. Jimmy bumps his forehead against yours. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really need to.

[confettifox-ships]

I picked the prompt 30, brushing against each other, linking fingers together for a second.

My F/O is Mordecai Heller from the series Lackadaisy. He's a triggerman for the speakeasy Marigold, though he used to work for the Lackadaisy, up until his mentor, Atlas, was killed. Mordecai is quite proper and cold in his demeaner, if not socially awkward and he struggles to express himself. Mordecai's parents were of German and Jewish descent and lived in poverty. Mordecai had to take care of his sisters and secretly worked as a bookkeeper in underground gambling rinks as a child for the extra money, so got an early start. Might explain his pessimistic attitude.

My S/I is Silver May. He was taken in by Atlas, the owner of the Lackadaisy, and not only worked with Mordecai back in the day but now currently works with Mordecai at the Marigold (a speakeasy fronting as a hotel). Atlas saved Silver from a terrible marriage, which has left Silver a bit skittish about romance. Silver is pessimistic, but playful and mischievous too.

Dynamic wise, Mordecai is more tender with Silver than he is others, and Silver is shy with Mordecai. Maybe they're standing on the outskirts of the Marigold Room together and have a brief hand hold for comfort? Thanks in advance!

how did you know learning to love is my favorite trope of all time? here u go, i hope you like it 💕

You feel the delicately sharpened tip of Mordecai’s claw as it unsheathes slightly. It brushes through your fur and presses so gently against your skin that were it not for the way you’ve been watching as he eases one digit against yours, you wouldn’t even have known it was touching you. He’s always gentle with you. He must want to be.

Outside of the Marigold, the air is crisp and bitter, though clear and the night lights are bright. The chill makes your fur prickle up and when you spare a glance at Mordecai, you see his has done the same, fluffing up against the cold. The scruff of fur on his neck puffs up from beneath the collar of his long coat and his breath comes in soft pale clouds, but those are the only indications that he could be cold.

The green of his eyes turns silver in the moonlight. There’s a strange beauty to his practicality, and of his lapses of it, especially when it comes to you. His serious mask slips at the times only you can see him. You curl your finger back around his, squeezing slightly. The physical affection burns your paws, leaves the pads of them hot, though not in a way that hurts like it used to. Mordecai lets go just as the sensation becomes too much to bear.

Wordlessly, he holds the backdoor of the Marigold open for you, ushering you in with a flock of his tail, the white tip catching the light brightly. Inside, the noise returns and you miss the sounds of his breath. But you can see him across the room and can see the way the habitual sternness melts away any time he catches your eye. Such gentle reciprocity of affection overwhelms you in the best possible way, leaving your fur prickling and tingling at the roots.