#bimstache

Prompts from this list by @huffletrax

Prompt taken from my inbox: 39, “Can you really blame me?”

Prompt: Ice

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The moment he stepped out of his room and into the hallway, one Mister Bim Trimmer slipped and fell right on his ass.

    “What the fuck?” He yelped, upon finding himself sitting on a slippery, cold surface that really didn’t want him to get back up. Eventually he managed to pry his way up the side of the wall, just as Wilford came gliding by. “Wilford! Wilford! What the hell is going on?”

    “Oh!” Wilford spun so he faced Bim-- he had a bright pink pair of ice skates, Bim noticed suddenly, and seemed to have absolutely no trouble skating backward-- “I turned the floor to ice!” He chuckled gleefully, performing another spin and a hop. 

    “Why?” Bim exclaimed, attempting to take another step; this attempt was in vain, as he immediately slipped and fell again, a flutter of limbs and curses.

    Wilford’s expression resembled that of a child’s bewilderment: innocent and so completely clueless. “Because it’s December!” He cried, spinning smoothly on the ice, scraping up miniature sprays of glittering ice. “It’s Christmas time! That means ice, and snow, and-” he snapped his fingers and a neon pink pair of skates appeared on Bim’s feet, immediately foiling his desperate bid to regain his footing- “ice skating! Who doesn’t love those things?”

    “Me.” Bim grunted, beginning a rather humiliating half-crab crawl, half-ass scoot across the ice-covered floor; it was studio or bust. “I don’t love those things.”

    Wilford halted dead in his tracks, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “Why the fuck, Trimmer?”

    “Can you really blame me?” Bim snapped, finally losing what little patience he had. He gestured to the icy floor, to the glittering red-green lights and fake boughs decking out the walls that had magically appeared overnight. “It means we have to deal with you until Christmas is over-”

    “Mistletoe!” Wilford blurted, pointing to the air just above Bim’s head.

    “No. No, no, no-” Up to the sudden sprig of mistletoe-- sharp, green, glistening leaves, a pair of perfectly round, red berries-- over to Wilford, who was crowding closer, way too close, and-

    A wet, bristly smooch, pressed right to his lips. Bim spluttered and shoved him away. “What the fuck- fuck off, Warfstache!”

Title says it all darlings, it’s the part 2 of my last fic with Wilfy and Bim…..except it’s time for Bim to turn the tables on his giddy, bubblegum boyfriend SO ENJOY!!

The pair must have nodded off again, Bim’s eyes fluttered open and he rubbed them with a light yawn. He looked at the digital figures that read 10:46am, and Bim grin lightly with the knowledge that they’d have to get up soon; knowing undoubtedly that Wilford was going to require some coaxing. Bim sighed and looked to his left where Wilford lay with his back to him, but even without his face in view he was still damn beautiful to behold. The covers lay loosely over Bim’s and Wilford’s hips’ meaning that Bim had a full view of Wilford’s toned back and shoulders, a truly stunning sight to begin the day with. Bim shuffled forwards and placed a long, warm kiss between Wilford’s shoulder blades. Wilford hummed, fully awake but in no mood to move from their warm haven due to comfort and laziness; Bim had expected this of course.

This isn’t a romantic relationship, but it sure is a relationship.

Title: Late

He’d been waiting for a half hour. Fingers drumming the wheel to the tune of the rain pounding the roof of the car.

He was going to be late. Stupid Warfstache. Didn’t he know he had other things to do than wait for him?

Bim waited for another fifteen minutes before finally, finally, a bright pink smudge emerged from the office building and all but skipped through the puddles to the car.

“About time!” Bim snapped, just as Wilford opened his mustache-d mouth to speak. “What was keeping you? Kitchen Nightmares is on at eight and it’s already seven forty-five-”

Wilford cut him off by lunging over the console and kissing him full on the mouth. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say anything, Trimmer, because I’m just that good of a guy. Drive us to the nearest candy shop, my good. man.”

Tags: @authorsathenaeum @tiny-yan-an @darkstache-iplier @redraspberrycats @holyshitsnakesandspace @cookieface678 @bing-iplier @storm337 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @pixelenchanter @itsjustkyss @darkiplurrr @demonnightmareangel @moonysmayhem @demon-dark-666 @xpouii @damesdoodles @projectwkm @sororia04s

Prompt 26: “You’re the one thing keeping me sane right now.”

    Fake blood spattered the set, spraying the walls in impossible arcs, an over-dramatic interpretation of death.

    “Cut!” Wilford cried, ending the scene where the cop confronts the killer. He straightened, wiping at the sweat dripping down his forehead, the sleeve of his costume coming away smudged with makeup, then clambered from the set, Bim-- dressed in a tight-fitting police uniform that was clearly fake and for the viewer’s pleasure-- right on his heels.

    “Let’s see this.” Wilford hopped into his director’s chair, crossing his legs and leaning down to pluck a bottle of Fireball from the floor beneath it. It was half full, though it quickly became less as he lifted it to his lips and drank. 

    “What- are you drinking?” Bim asked incredulously, sinking into his own chair. “Have you been drunk this whole time?”

    “Yup.” Wilford replied, grinning a dry smile. “You’re the one thing keeping me sane right now,” he told the bottle, and Bim huffed.

Title: Twilight

“What the hell even is this movie?”

A shrug. “I’ve heard it was good.”

Wilford wrinkled his nose, exposing a pearly fang. “Maybe in 2012.”

“They glitter though!” Bim gestured to the screen, where a chiselled “vampire” was posing in the sun, his robes falling away to reveal brightly glittering skin. “They don’t die!”

LAST ONE

Title: Behave

Bim’s lips tasted like copper as Wilford drew him close, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Better behave,” Wilford growled into his mouth, knocking the barrel of his gun harder into Bim’s temple, grinning at the show host’s wince. “You know what’ll happen to ya if you don’t.”

Bim nodded, agreeing even as blood dribbled from his broken nose, even as his eyes flashed with a strange mix of defiance, fear, and anger.

prompt: out of habit

Title: Pretend

It was part of the script. Bim had it down pat: the grab, where Wilford would take his hands, the twirl, where Wilford would spin him and pull him close, and finally, the kiss, where their lips would meet.

They’d done it so many times it was almost boring, but each time there was something missing. Something that had Wilford yelling “cut!” every time they drew apart.

“It needs more emotion,” he told Bim when they went offstage for a break. “You need to really put your all into it. Really wow those viewers!”

He clapped Bim on the back, then, like nothing had ever happened between them. Like Bim hadn’t ever meant anything to him.