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#and always wake up early .....

starchaserwrites · 1 month

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@jegulus-microfic / march 17: body / word count: 291

Regulus is a liar.

Ever since he began his relationship with James a few months ago he has been lying to him almost daily.

Every morning James is the one who wakes up first, stretching his limbs, wrinkling his nose, rubbing his eyes as they adjust to the light filtering through the window and reaching for Regulus on the other side of the bed. Sometimes James merely caresses his head or outlines each of his facial features with his thumb as he contemplates him for long moments. At other times he comes close to hug him, burying his face in his neck and peppering him with kisses. But what never changes is the tremendous warmth in his voice every time he says, "Mi vida, it's time to get up."

The thing is, in all the time they've been together, James has never once woken up before Regulus. Growing up, punctuality was never optional in the Black family. If you were late for breakfast, you had to face the consequences. So waking up early is a habit that Regulus will doubtfully escape one day, even though it is no longer necessary. But ever since he spent his first night with James, and in a moment of panic pretended to be asleep when he saw the body next to him stirring as a sign that he was waking up, Regulus could never stop pretending after experiencing all the attention his boyfriend gives him in the mornings.

Regulus is a liar, but he doesn't feel an ounce of remorse for it.

James knows Regulus is a liar, but he makes a point of reminding him how precious he is and how much he loves him every morning while the other pretends to be asleep.

#HC: Regulus is not a morning enjoyer #but he always wakes up early anyways #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #jegulus microfic #microfics #marauders #the marauders #len writes

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journey-to-the-attic · 7 months

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i've just discovered that they were selling the silliest lucifer plush and i'm so happy about it (unfortunately i am too late to get one myself)

i only just refrained from giving lucifer a hat to match his old man pjs, if only because i'm really bad at drawing hats

bonus:

#obey me #art #ohh my god i should've given lucifer a little candle to hold.....#ah well i just wanna post this and then i gotta force myself to go to bed #i have to wake up So early to catch the train tomorrow and alas i've probably already left it too late #i mean i can always take a nap on the commute but still. bed cosy #obey me lucifer #jtta ik

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dramatic-dolphin · 2 months

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tradwives in their pretty sundresses getting the shit beaten out of them astrally by their subsistence farmer "gets up at 5am to wade through ankle-deep mud to feed the chickens" great-grandmothers

#good god my grandma was always up at the crack of dawn to let the chickens out #i was a Very early riser as a kid and i only ever managed to catch her waking up one (1) time

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iaxsl · 2 months

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domestic cross guild, where mornings start off with a sleepy Buggy floating to the kitchen, eyes semi-closed. Mihawk at the kitchen island with two ready-made coffee mugs in front of him, silently sipping from his own while he passes one of the mugs to Buggy who wordlessly accepts and sits down across from him. Crocodile is soon trailing after him, also accepting the offered mug from Mihawk. no words are exchanged. Crocodile sets to making breakfast while Mihawk and Buggy move to sit at the table to give him more space. eyes still heavy with sleep, Buggy drapes himself on the table, trying to get a few more minutes of shut-eye. the sounds of Mihawk turning the pages of the newspaper and Crocodile humming as he cooks is a soothing lullaby to Buggy's ears by now. he has never had peaceful mornings like this before.

#i could write more but stopping here feels right #im not trying to write another 1k words just describing their breakfast. tho I could...#i just like the idea of quiet mornings with cross guild #everything is so hectic #but mornings #everything is peaceful. if only for a moment #not looking this over so excuse any grammar errors #i feel like crocodile takes charge of breakfast most mornings. mihawk helps on occasion #both of them are early risers so one of them is always in the kitchen before buggy gets there. coffee hot and ready waiting for him #buggy would probably wake up in the afternoon if left alone but he's been getting better at waking up for breakfast. he wouldn't miss it #i really love cross guild and i feel like buggy should get pampered a bit. he deserves it #buggy the clown #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #crocodile #sir crocodile #cross guild #one piece #do these three have a ship name? or is it just cross guild?#happy valentine's!

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ghouljams · 9 months

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Omg now I want to see Soap begging Moon to marry him. Can Goose or someone have a Wild West fever dream so we can see all of those scenarios happen??

“When’re you gonna let me make an honest woman out of you?” Soap leans over the bar, broad shoulders hiked next to his ears as he settles on his elbows. You pour a shot of whiskey for him and try not to hit him with the bottle.

“When’re you gonna pay your tab?” You don’t really mind Soap, but it’s rather annoying that he won’t leave you alone. You’re not sure why he’s so set on you. Man like him could have anyone he wanted, half the women in town are clamoring for him, and the other half are married so they’re stuck pining.

“I always pay my tab,” He smiles. You narrow your eyes at him. He does. He closes out every time he leaves. That’s another annoying thing about him, he’s a good man.

“Then you’ve got no reason to keep comin’ around.” You tell him and turn to help the other patrons at the bar. You’ll get Soap some lunch later, let him sweat with his alcohol for a minute. Can’t have him thinkin’ you like him.

“You’re late,” You pull a clean glass and pour a healthy serving of whiskey in it before sliding it to Soap.

“Was pickin’ out wedding rings,” He tells you, taking the glass between his fingers. You can see the dirt under his nails, but his hands are clean. You wonder if he wiped them off before he came to see you.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You ask, and even though you know he’s only joking your stomach still clenches uncomfortably at the thought Soap might have someone waiting on him.

“Hopin’ it’s you.” He says tipping his head back to swallow the whiskey neat. You watch the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. Soap licks the last drop of whiskey off his lips as he sets his glass down, and you do your best not to watch the path of his pink tongue.

“You better watch out, someday someone’s gonna think you’re serious,” You pour him a second without being asked and go to collect empty glasses before he can tease you further.

Soap crowds you against the door to the store room, holding it closed as you try to keep the heat off your cheeks. You’re too used to having the bar between you, a solid barrier keeping him at arm's length. You scowl at him. His lovesick smile makes your stomach flip. You wonder if he’s sick in the head to keep chasing after you. How have you not managed to scare him off yet?

You do your best to keep up a glare, even under Soap’s studying glances. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. He really must be mad.

“Do I make you nervous, Hen?” He asks. You feel your brows twitch down a little more.

“Why would you make me nervous?” You aren’t nervous. Your heart must be beating that quickly for some other reason. Soap hums, raises a hand to caress your cheek, his touch soft and clean. His hand is cool against the heat of your skin.

He kisses you before you can push him away. His lips pressing firm against yours make you melt a little. He cups your face so gently, like you’re something to be treasured, something delicate that he has to be careful with. It’s a far cry from your rough exterior, but you almost…like it. It’s especially pleasant when his lips part to kiss you again, hardly bothered whether or not you’re kissing him back. You haven’t pushed him away, and that matters far more. It doesn’t take more than a second of coaxing for you to grip his shirt and kiss him.

Pressed against the door isn’t the worst place to be when Soap is the one pressing you against it. His body is firm and warm, his fingers tilting your head to let him kiss you at a comfortable angle. He tips his own head to catch the corner of your lips, your jaw, your neck just over where your pulse hammers. You wonder if he can feel it, if he can hear the soft sigh that escapes your lips when he does. He kisses you properly a final time before he pulls back.

Still so close, his thumb swipes against your lower lip. You can’t seem to make up your mind on what you’re supposed to do now. You feel like the whole world has turned pink at the edges.

“Marry me,” He whispers and you feel your heart clench so severely it makes your breath skip. Your lip wobbles a little. You’re supposed to be stronger than this.

“No,” You tell him with as much resolve as you can manage. You expect him to frown, or tease you more, but his smile only grows.

You’ve never given him an answer when he’s asked, only ever redirected the conversation or made a joke in response. (The jokes were the worst, always on the wrong side of self deprecating, Soap thought those hurt more than a rejection) To get an actual response out of you? An acknowledgement of the sincerity behind the question? Well, some ‘no’s are worth a thousand ‘yes’s.

#1870s!cowboy #cowboy!Soap #oc: moon #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x oc #I assume soap is a ranch hand or a stable hand #he works hard and gets dirty but he always makes sure his hands are clean when he sees Moon #don't wanna accidentally dirty her up if he gets the chance to touch her #I think he got tired of waiting for her to realize he wasn't joking #gotta prove he's serious about her somehow #how did he fall for Moon and why is he chasing after her? who knows #I knows #I think he had to deliver something to her early one morning and spotted her in her pjs #and thought “I wanna wake up next to her”#and it was all downhill from there

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foursaints · 8 months

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i think my favorite interpretation of the rosekiller dynamic is one where they’re sort of inverses of each other if that makes sense… like barty comes across as very unhinged/impulsive/reckless and sees himself that way to an extent. but deep down he is very type-A and patient and pragmatic (see: goblet of fire because who the fuck hatches a ten-year revenge plot that is that convoluted). meanwhile everyone sees evan as a highly competent and calculated death eater who has three (3) facial expressions that are all variations of 😐. but inside his brain that man is screaming crying exploding and i am frankly surprised that he did not get himself blown up sooner

#i had to wake up so early to pack for uni today guys #and yet. they are always on the mind #t #rose & thorn #evan meta tag

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sonicattos · 1 year

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he thinks his life is a movie. yeah. a documentary on GAY people.

#saltcat posting #it’s 5 am i always plan on sleeping early then my brain wakes up and looks at this #sth

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 8 months

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heya, i have to wake up in three hours but! here's another lil human au snippet! ft. lightly implied Laughingstock! disclaimer i am so so tired so don't come at me for typos or strangely worded sentences or missing info <3

Before heading home, Eddie swings by a charming little store he’s been to once or twice before. He usually goes to the chain store by his house, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the hustle and bustle and the endless aisles. This little store is quiet, nice, and strangely has everything anyone could need.

The lot is mostly empty at this hour, so Eddie claims a spot right at the front. As with the other times, the windows are littered with displays and stickers - half off on this, sale on that. Eddie enters Howdy’s Place with the chime of the door’s shopkeeper’s bell. He’ll get what he needs and get out, quick and easy and peacefu-

Boisterous laughter slams into Eddie like a hammer, so sudden that he jumps in place. An employee stocking cans nearby glances weirdly at him. Eddie clears his throat and hurries into the nearest aisle as the laughter tapers off. The silence barely lasts a second before loud chatter starts up. It’s too fast and muffled for Eddie to understand, but he can pick out two distinct voices - one deep, one less so but still decidedly masculine.

Eddie tries to tune it out as he gathers what he needs. Toothpaste, some paper towels, shampoo. For the hell of it, he nabs a box of classic bran muffins from the spacious food section. He lingers for a moment, enjoying how far-away the conversation seems at the other corner of the store. Unfortunately, theft is illegal, so Eddie is forced to move towards the noise.

A strange thing about the store - it’s a combination general store, antique shop, and diner, complete with a miniature gift shop separating the two. One long checkout counter stretches from the open store area, behind the gift shop, and into the diner, where the conversation is coming from. An interesting setup, but an understandable one. It allows anyone behind the counter to move fluidly between customers and sections.

As Eddie approaches, the conversation becomes slightly clearer.

“-said, no wonder you didn’t get her number!” the deeper voice barks, and the two dissolve into that almost-too-loud laughter again.

As it tapers off, the other voice says, “Sounds like a real charmer! But really, you oughta be careful, Barn. One of these days someone’s gonna throw a right hook at ya.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. A transatlantic accent? He hasn’t heard that anywhere outside of real old movies and a queen he once knew. It sounds natural too, like the man was born to sound like he belongs on a 1920s radio show. It nudges something in the back of Eddie’s mind. He’s started to get really sick of that nudge.

“Oh, this guy did.”

“No kidding? I don’t see a shiner.”

“Well, yeah. I went left.”

Both of them laugh again, and Eddie feels a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t funny enough to garner an actual laugh in his opinion, but it wasn’t unfunny.

Eddie steps up to the counter and quietly puts his acquired items on it, not wanting to interrupt. He chances a glance to the side - walking space in front of the counter’s length lets him see right down into the diner.

A large man with dyed-blue hair and an interesting fashion sense is at the bar, talking to an employee leaning against the other side. The employee doesn’t really catch Eddie’s gaze, but the other man… Eddie swears he’s seen him before. He studies him from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be rude but unable to mind his business.

“Our bouncer didn’t even get a chance at the action - the idiot knocked himself out tryin’ a second swing!” The customer says. His deep voice, wavering with humor, only adds to the sense of familiarity. Metal glints in his right ear. Eddie knows this man from somewhere.

The employee shakes his head, tutting. His busy hands polish a vintage pitcher. “I swear, you get all the crazies.”

“Makes for a good story, though.” The customer takes a sip from his tall milkshake and scoffs. “Though if it wasn’t all well-ending, amusing bull, I doubt I’d be so tolerant.”

Minutes drag by as the two keep talking. Eddie goes from patiently waiting to awkwardly trying to get the employees attention. If only there was someone else behind the counter, but the only other staff member is elsewhere, likely still stocking shelves.

The two men are too absorbed in their little world, even though both are facing Eddie’s way. The customer has both elbows on the counter, one of them bent to prop up his chin. The employee has his hip leaned against the edge as they chat. They’re obviously very familiar with each other, and clearly deeply enjoy each other's company.

Still - and Eddie is sorry to say, but it’s bad customer service. He’s not in a rush, but he’d still like to be on his way home. He could be fishing out the complex keys right now. He checks his phone - he’s been here for nearly fifteen minutes. Picking out the items took less than five.

Eddie sighs, staring at the various cigarette packs displayed behind the counter. He’s never seen the appeal in smoking, but as the laughter starts up again, he almost wishes he did. He’s going to treat himself to a very long shower once he gets home.

The store’s other employee walks behind the counter, carrying a box. Eddie lights up. Finally - she pointedly clears her throat and heads into the back.

The constant conversation stalls for the barest moment, and he looks over. The customer grins at him for a second - lord he’s handsome - before turning that grin towards his friend.

“You’re losin’ your touch, Howds,” he teases, bringing his shake straw to his lips.

“I resent that statement. You’re just distracting.”

“Lil’ me? Distracting? C’mon, you can just tell me I’m pretty to my face. I’ll take it like a champ, I swear!”

“Ha, good try.” The employee sets the pitcher down and starts to mosey in Eddie’s direction. “Your ego is big enough for the both of us as is. One more compliment and your head’ll pop like a balloon.”

“Well, given that most balloons don’t really pop, they just kinda deflate slowly-”

“Sorry for the wait!” the employee says loudly in a glaringly obvious customer service tone. He stops in front of Eddie with a cardboard smile. At the other end of the counter, the familiar man snickers and hides his grin behind his drink. “I trust you found everything you did - and didn’t! - need.”

Eddie just stares up at him for a moment. At six-one, Eddie hasn’t felt small in a very long time. He usually stands at least a full inch above other people. This employee - Howdy, his name tag states - has several more on him.

“Uh, y-yes, I uh, I did,” Eddie stammers, glancing at his items.

“Wonderful! And again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. My friend makes a game out of keeping me from my job.” Howdy shoots his ‘friend’ a glare with enough heat in it to make an ice cube sweat.

“No worries.”

Howdy scans the items at an almost frightening speed. Beep, into a paper bag. Beep, in. Beep, beep - “Oh, no.”

“What?” Eddie says, dread plucking at his ribs as Howdy holds the bran muffins and shakes his head. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“Indeed there is! You’re making a mistake with these. They’re absolutely horrible, I tell ya - and bad for you, too!” Howdy tuts and puts the box to the side. “No, no, you don’t want those.”

“I… don’t?”

“Not if you knew better! Lucky for you, I’m here to set you straight. What you need is-” he snaps his fingers, “Barnaby, be a pal and-”

“Already on it,” ‘Barnaby’ says, appearing next to Eddie.

If Eddie weren’t already paralyzed, he’d jump right out of his skin from how Barnaby towers over him. He has to be a scant inch or so shorter than Howdy, but he still makes Eddie feel tiny. Unfortunately, Barnaby is even more handsome up close.

“Here ya go.” Barnaby hands a plastic container to Howdy and taps it, smiling lazily down at Eddie. “I’d take his advice on this one. Those bran-named muffins may sound fancy, but they’re pretty crumby! You want muffins of quality. Real breadwinners!

Eddie can’t help a soft laugh. “Breadwinners, heh, that’s a good one.”

“Are you selling these or am I?” Howdy says, raising a bushy eyebrow.

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what you asked! I’m bein’ a pal.”

“And I - I’m sorry," Eddie interjects, "but you’re awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Eh, I’ve been around, but uh… you ever been to [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE]?”

Howdy clears his throat. “I’m trying to make a sale here, Barn. You can flirt on your own dime when you’re not costing me mine.”

“Didja know your nose gets redder when you’re jealous?”

Howdy rolls his eyes and shoves Barnaby in the diner’s direction. Barnaby goes with a hearty snicker. Despite the joke, Eddie thinks it has some merit as Howdy scans the final item and rings him up, considerably frostier than before.

Belatedly, Eddie realizes that he didn’t actually agree to the different muffins. Too late now. “Say, what kind of muffins are those?”

“Poppyseed-lemon.”

Eddie relaxes - that is a lot better than boring bran. “Y’know, my mother loved poppyseed-lemon muffins.”

“Did she now,” Howdy drawls.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! If baking was so much as mentioned, she’d jump right on houndin’ us to whip some up for her, or send us to go buy some. We’d never even get a taste! They’d be gone the moment they hit the air, I tell ya.” Eddie chuckles. “Took me a while to understand what all the fuss is about, but man was she right. They are good!”

“Uh-huh. Well, we have a fresh batch delivered every morning. They’re not the same type every time, mind you, but I can promise that they’re all of the highest quality.”

“Breadwinners, right?” Eddie jokes. Howdy doesn’t blink, but Barnaby snorts. He’ll take it. “I might have to come by more often, if that’s the case! Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Mhm, have a good day.” Howdy hands him the bag and strides away without a glance. The dismissal is clear as day. “Say, Barn, did you hear about the racket one of those cult crackpots stirred up at our dear friend’s tearoom?”

Eddie doesn’t catch the tail-end of the sentence as he hurries away, but he frowns. Cult? What cult? There’s a cult? He certainly didn’t hear of one before moving here, and none of his background checks had turned up anything of the sort. He hopes it was just a figure of speech.

The door chimes again as Eddie leaves. It isn’t until he’s in his car that the embarrassment of that whole exchange catches up with him. If he had a nickel for every time he’d made a fool of himself in front of a gorgeous, strangely familiar man, he’d have three nickels. At the rate he’s going, he’ll either be rich, or he’ll have to move.

Eddie subtly tries to peek around the store’s window displays from the safety of his car. He catches a scant glimpse of blue hair - come to think of it, it’s a similar shade to Wally’s. But where Wally’s had, to Eddie’s memory, been uniformly dyed right down to his eyebrows, Barnaby’s rich brown roots were obvious. His beard and eyebrows weren’t dyed, either.

As Eddie relaxes back into his seat, he re-reads at the store’s name. The color drains from his face and he barely restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the steering wheel.

Oh, of course. Of course he made a fool of himself in front of the owner. Eddie can never come back here again. And it was such a nice store…