#Cosy fluffs

[scealaiscoite]

cosy autumn prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍁 ꒱

⋆ cuddling under a blanket

⋆ baking together

⋆ lazy days in

⋆ carving pumpkins

⋆ movie nights

⋆ flannel shirts

⋆ cold hands

⋆ steaming mugs

⋆ scary movie marathons

⋆ home-cooked meals

⋆ scented candles

⋆ bear hugs

⋆ coffee shop date

⋆ bonfire night

⋆ pillow forts

⋆ thunderstorms

⋆ leaf piles

⋆ sharing blankets

⋆ rain showers

⋆ log cabin

[an-established-butt-dent]

'Dreamers' A quiet evening

Solas x Lavellan, available as print here.

Mixed media on paper

[somegrumpynerd]

Angstify cross

Bro this guy comes with angst pre-installed what do you mean?? Comfort for my little guy he's suffered enough

[mrsackermannx]

the way satoru shows affection would make you melt so easily…because it’s always kind of wordless, and unexpected?

when you’re sat at the table as he cooks breakfast, and he shifts past you to grab something—but he suddenly pauses like he’s trying to recall something. he leans down, grabs your face and plants a kiss to your cheek. like he couldn’t have held back, and his intrusive thoughts took over.

when he gets home and wraps his arms around you from behind, breathing softly into your hair, no words needed as he squeezes you so so tight.

when he randomly yanks you halfway across the couch to pull you into his chest. so he can procede to dance his fingertips up and down your side and stroke through your hair, with his heartbeat calm and even against your ear…and if he feels goosebumps he leans over for the throw blanket and wraps you up all proper.

he giggles to himself at how sweet you look, wrapped up like a burrito and lazing on him. he lifts your chin with one finger and then leans in for a kiss, but before he does he sings. “i love youu.” - all smug, all smiling, all satoru.

[husbandograveyard]

This is my contribution to a secret santa discord server event. This fic is warm and fluffy and I LOVED writing it, I love these characters SO much. I hope you like it too!

Warnings/notes/tags are: polyamory, unspecified AU where Geto is not evil, unspecified whether this is a non-cursed world or a jujutsu AU where we just ignore the presence of curses. Loads and loads and loads of fluff.

2nd person. Reader is genderneutral, no pronouns are used.

Spending the winter holidays with Geto and Gojo is… 

…finding time in your busy schedules so the three of you can enjoy a winter market.

Strolling along the little stalls, taking in the views and the smells. It’s winter, and it has been dark for a while, but all the twinkling lights decorating the stalls reflecting into the white snow -both real and fake- make up for all that darkness. The smells are a little overwhelming at first, all kinds of stalls lined up flooding your senses with strong, sweet odors, heavy spices and the warmth of grilled meats… it’s a lot, combined with the sights and the jolly music playing from the speakers spread around the market, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. 

It doesn’t help that Satoru is immediately overly enthusiastic, ready to spend money on souvenirs and gifts for all the students and everyone else he knows, and pointing out all the stalls he’d like to try the food at. He’d run off without you two if it weren’t for Suguru’s quick reflexes, grabbing onto the hood of his jacket and janking him back. Suguru’s holding your hand firmly in his, grounding you from all the things overwhelming your senses. 

You stroll past the stalls, for some reason holding a whole bunch of bags from Satoru, who just can’t seem to stop getting stuff. At every stall there is something that reminds him of one of his studens, his friends or either of you, and he just has to get it. 

You leave the market filled with all kinds of foods and drinks, Suguru suggesting a little break amongst the food stalls, and Gojo getting a little bit of everything to sample, completely filling the little table you are standing at with various containers and plates, one smelling and looking more delicious than the other. You have to fight a little to ensure you get to sample some of the sweet desserts, and all three of you end up with smears on your faces from various sauces- feeding each other is romantic only when you don’t joke around and miss mouths on purpose (and of course you had to have revenge). 

… snuggling up on the couch, shivering and sniffling, full of regret but still shaking from laughter, after Suguru sneakily started a snowball fight on your way home. 

You had felt the cold snow collide with the back of your head and turned around immediately, throwing an accusatory glare at Satoru, who immediately put his hands up in defense. 

“I swear y/n- It wasn’t me I-…” 

His pleas immediately interrupted by yet another snowball, this one narrowly missing the tip of his nose, the both of you whipping your heads around to see Suguru standing with his hands hidden behind his back, giving you both his most innocent smile before grinning and throwing two more snowballs at the both of you simultaneously, a remarkable display of his aim and strength. Though this time you saw them coming and both you and Satoru managed to duck away in time, already grabbing handfuls of snow for your counter-offense. 

The two-against-one-match quickly turned into an all-out battle where each of you had to fend for themselves, because you slipped and nearly fell, throwing one of your snowballs to Satoru, who had promptly declared you his enemy as well. 

You spent almost two hours laughing, running around, hiding from snowballs and each other, you felt like kids again. As if there was not a single care in the world. You continued until your stomach hurt from laughing, your fingers ached from the cold, and you could barely feel your face anymore. 

The minute your little snowball fight was over, you realized just how much snow had melted and had managed to get through to your clothes, despite your gloves, scarf and jacket protecting you from most of the cold. 

You went back inside, changing into warm clothes, fluffy socks and cuddling up on the couch. You put on a silly movie for some background noise and entertainment, Suguru retrieved the blankets and Satoru prepped hot cocoa, overflowing your mugs with way too many mini marshmallows, offering to ‘help’ either one of you if you thought there were too many for you to eat- how kind of him. 

You sat in between the two men, knees pulled up and neatly tucked under the blanket. You barely registered the movie you put on, too busy getting warmed up and enjoying the serenity and pure happiness you felt in that moment. 

…making all kinds of plans, only to spend most of the holiday resting and chilling. 

There were things that had to be done: some household chores as well as work, and there were some things that you wanted to do for fun. Going to visit a new shopping center nearby, explore some city sights you hadn’t had the chance to. You wanted to go out on some dates, go for long walks enjoying the winter landscapes, relax, not worry and stress too much. There was work to be done, but work would always be there, and opportunities to relax and do fun things were scarce, especially in periods where the three of you were available. 

Suguru is a go with the flow kind of person, so he’s happy to tag along to whatever plans you make. Satoru however, is like a kid in a candy store when there is suddenly a lot of free time on your hands, and he is on the couch with his laptop in no time, ready to order tickets to anything you wanna visit, booking trips, and talking about so many plans you wonder out loud where he thinks he’s going to find the time to do all that. 

The fact that you finally can relax makes all the plans seem exciting though, and initially you are 100% behind Satoru, adding on suggestions, sending him links and scrolling on your phone, doing additional research for a lot of the places and activities he suggests. You do listen to Suguru who suggests only really booking things when you’re sure you can go do it, when timing, planning, transport, other plans and your energy levels are all aligned and allow you to do the activity.

He turns out to be the voice of reason, cause all three of you have such a hard time getting up in the morning, finally getting to sleep in (and it’s quite hard getting up when you’re in someone else's arms, comfortable and warm). 

Chores -unless really necessary- get postponed, plans get cancelled. Instead you stay in, watching silly movies, and finally catching up on the latest series you really wanted to watch. You go on walks together, exploring your own neighborhood and stopping at restaurants you haven’t had the chance to try out yet. You focus all your time and effort on quality time and enjoying the time all three of you have together. And you very quickly realize that truly, you do not need to have big and exciting plans to make the most of your winter break. 

… sharing a bed, because it is ‘cold’ outside. 

You leave your windows open at night, because it’s healthier, and you don’t like feeling all stuffy in the morning. There is a certain charm about entering a cold room and snuggling underneath the warm blankets, warming up as you fall asleep, and waking up in your own little warm cocoon. Especially if you have no further responsibilities that day, your blankets keeping you trapped in bed on a cold winter day, sleeping in. 

It is a little less exciting though when the temperatures drop abruptly, and the room is not nice and chilly, but actually is freezing when you go in. You are shivering when you get changed, and your blankets just don’t feel right. Your feet might as well be blocks of ice in your warm, fuzzy, socks. 

It only takes a few minutes of tossing and turning before you decide you need to get a better source of heat in your bed. Or a bed, doesn’t necessarily matter which one. 

So you wrap yourself in a blanket, carefully closing the door behind you, and shuffle your way through the dark hallway, only to find Satoru -your current target- standing in the hallway, mirroring yourself with his blanket wrapped around you as well. 

“It’s too cold in my room”, is the only thing you can blurt out as an explanation, feeling the overwhelming need to explain, even though that’s not necessary. He just nods in acknowledgement, and you need no further words between the two of you to know what the next step is. 

Suguru is already peacefully asleep in a room that’s colder than the rest of the house, but not freezing temperature. Leave it to him to actually properly figure out when to open and close the windows in his room to reach maximum oxygen and the best possible temperature to still be able to snuggle underneath the blankets without risking to freeze overnight. 

Suguru is a quiet sleeper, almost too silent, and you worry you might have woken him up by opening his door. But you didn’t; he merely stirs in his sleep, lips parting in a quiet sigh, hand moving up a little to lay on top of the raven hair that’s splayed upon his pillow. 

You are both as quiet as possible when you enter, Suguru only waking up when you both slip into the bed to either side of him, piling your blankets on top of him and snuggling close. There is a brief moment of surprise, followed by a very sleepy nod of acknowledgement. All three of you take a little time to adjust to three people in the bed, and it’s not entirely sure whose limbs are entangling with who, but it doesn’t matter as you can already feel your body relaxing the second you find a comfortable position. 

Your eyelids grow heavy while you hear Suguru and Satoru quietly converse in the background. You squeeze an arm that is around you, a quiet way of saying goodnight. 

…feeling warm, no matter the temperature. Because you are safe. You are loved. 

[gregorovitch-adler]

Lamp

It was one in the morning, and Sherlock could not sleep.

He decided to get his laptop on the bed to check for some new cases on his website.

John was sleeping beside him. Unbelievable. Like a dream. But true.

They had been together in a relationship for a year now, and yet, Sherlock still felt this way from time to time.

He settled down on his side of the bed and opened his laptop.

The bright light in the otherwise dark room hit the pupils of his eyes, and he winced a little for a moment.

John would always tell him to switch on the bedside lamp for balance so that Sherlock wouldn't end up with bad eyesight.

So, Sherlock stretched out his arm to switch on the lamp on his side.

Yes, this was better. He could see more clearly now.

He opened his website and began to read one of his old articles.

Within a minute, though, he became acutely aware of John lying by his side, sharing a duvet with him.

Sherlock turned to look at John's face, which was glowing because of the golden light from the lamp.

Once again, Sherlock couldn't help but marvel at John's face.

John's beautiful ash-blond hair; the forehead which was marked with frown lines. The golden lashes resting on his cheeks - gorgeous.

That mouth which Sherlock had been pining for ages, of which the corners had softened because of John's dormant state.

The cleft in his chin Sherlock secretly loved but never told him about.

Unable to believe his luck, the corners of Sherlock's mouth lifted and Sherlock was half-smiling.

He reached out to run his hands through John's soft and dense hair.

Now he wished John's eyes were open, so he could drown in those ocean-blue eyes. He would have to wait till the morning.

Suddenly, John reached out for Sherlock's hand - which was running through John's hair - and interlocked their fingers before smiling with his eyes closed.

The smile that was always capable of making Sherlock's heart flutter.

John opened his eyes and looked up at Sherlock with the same smile.

"Can't sleep?"

"Not with your soul-gazing stare," John replied with a short laugh. He continued to hold Sherlock's gaze with those mesmerizing eyes.

Sherlock's grin widened across his face as he closed his laptop to keep it on the side table, and lay down on his left to face John.

John was mirroring Sherlock's expression.

Sherlock closed the distance between them to kiss John on the mouth, who kissed him back, and it was an unexplainable bliss for Sherlock once again.

They wrapped their arms around each other to continue with the kissing to their heart's content.

John's presence in his bed, in his life, made everything exponentially better. Sleep included.

***

Sherlock September Challenge

Prompt Lamp by @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @lookingforlifeoutthere @missdeliadili @calaisreno @kettykika78 @curlyjohnlock.

[averlym]

,,, sun-dappled sheets...

[last-herondale]

Loki: Are you okay? You’ve been quieter than usual today.

Y/N: I’m sorry.

Loki: Don’t apologize love, I just want to make sure you’re okay.

Y/N: I just feel very overwhelmed. I can’t really explain why, but it’s just hard to be happy right now.

Loki: Anything I can do?

Y/N: *gives a faint smile* Hold me?

Loki: *Happily wraps his arm around you*

[caliburn-not-calculator]

… Gay people <3

Have some writing from… well it’s not really from anything, it has no fic or au, they’re just, cute

The afternoon sunlight cast a warm glow through Maxim’s home, the sheer curtains diffusing it from sharp rays to soft golden haze. The dark wood panel bookshelves were a deep maroon, the books and trinkets set upon them creating a sense of cozy grandeur. Maxim took pride in his home, and he liked to think it showed. Even if his workspaces were rather chaotic. A low coffee table was covered with such clutter; books and various stationary supplies, as well as two empty mugs and a long blue scarf. The lounge was positioned to catch the afternoon sun, creating a nice bright reading spot. Though, today, it was not the pages of a book that lay illuminated beneath his hands.

Veerla frowned up at him, the dazed softness in his expression betraying his false displeasure. “Why did you stop?” He asked, voice quiet and a little hoarse, the lips it fell from a kiss bitten shade of red.

Light glinted off Veerle’s piercings, his scars shining, hair loose and pooling on the pillowing in a halo. This close, sharing breath and warmth, Maxim could see the gold flecks of his amber eyes. Like honeyed sunlight. He was laid back on the lounge, one hand tangled in the fabric of Maxim’s shirt, the other gently snagged in his brassy hair. Maxim tried not to fall completely into Veerla’s chest as he dragged his fingers alone his scalp, his nails scratching faintly. He hummed, leaning into the touch, staring down with pupils blown wide as he tracing his own fingers alone the edge of his jaw. Veerla tilted his head back, letting Maxim trail his touch down to follow the lines of his scars. Closing the little space between only felt right. He pressed his lips to the corner of his jaw in a quick kiss.

Somft…

[talons-and-teeth]

Your Taste, Forever on My Tongue

Pairing: Elain/Lucien

Rating: M

Summary: Elain's office is running a Secret Santa event that coincides with the launch of the new website which she's leading on. She happens to get allocated the last person she could ever think of getting a gift for.

Merry Christmas, @makememakesense ! It's me, your Secret Santa!

Thank you so much being so lovely and giving me so many ideas for this AU, I really hope I got it (somewhat) right!

Thank you also to the @acotargiftexchange organisers for giving me this opportunity. This is my first ever fic and I've been so nervous about it, but I'm so glad to have done it for such a joyful community. Special thanks goes to my wife @mmiscbutterflies for helping me brainstorm and bring my 'Love, Actually' vision to life, and generally talk me down from the proverbial ledge when I became anxious/was not in the right headspace to write. Love you always.

Read on AO3 here

Snippet below:

Elain was late.

Not her usual, sorry I’m late-I couldn’t resist-there was a new cafe I just had to try on the way- late, but a fuck me-I slept through five alarms-maybe I spent too long watching reruns of Bake Off-or was it the bottle of Sauvignon?- tardiness, which left her cursing profusely while she tripped over her tights, slapped on eye cream and was out the door.

[navybluekoala]

I like feeling cold, because it means I can wrap myself up in fluffy blankets to fall asleep. They act as shields from the colds' bite and protects me from the worries of the world, letting me forget all my troubles.

[taters169]

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Fireplace

Written for @lordoftherazzles. Have a little cosy warm ficlet <3

(Sorry, I posted the fic for the 25th yesterday, so we do a switcheroo)

Characters: Thorin x Bilbo

Words: 1 760

Warnings: elves, dwarves, men, a fireplace...very fluffy, very legal, very cool

Thorin scowled but wiped the discontented expression off his face almost instantly—after all, distasteful as it might have been to him, this project was his very own.

Usually, he and Bilbo spent the winters in the Shire where the climate was more clement and the cold not as biting, but due to the upcoming wedding of his nephew, they had decided to stay in Erebor this time.

The brave Hobbit had not expressed any unhappiness about it, but the King knew, nevertheless, that the howling wind and the pervasive chill were gnawing on him relentlessly.

Bilbo, for all his inner fortitude, was not wrought of hard, non-corroding metal—his was a world of soft comforts, and Thorin was determined to provide as much solace as he could to his beloved.

Thus, he had invited both Bard and Thranduil—loathsome, overly critical intruders—to his realm to help him devise a fireplace that would bring not only welcome and much-needed warmth but also earnest joy to his gentle consort.

Even though Bilbo had expressed genuine, enthusiastic admiration for all the dwarven crafts and mechanisms in Erebor, Thorin suspected that the great furnaces and functional grates were not entirely to his liking.

As the little smial had been discreetly decorated with the angular, geometric patterns of Thorin’s home over time, the King of the Lonely Mountain considered it only proper and fair that he’d make some allowances for the aesthetic sensibilities of his cherished partner in return.

“It’s beautiful,” Bard now commented, grinning widely at their masterpiece.

“It is good,” Thranduil admitted while meticulously straightening the tassels of an intricately embroidered rug that had been sent all the way from Imladris. “He deserves nothing less.”

Smiling grimly, Thorin nodded. He was aware that Bilbo was much more popular than he would ever be, and despite his profound distrust for the Elves and all their creations, he was happy to see how generously they had contributed to the small sitting room he had prepared for Bilbo.

“Now get lost,” he rumbled when Ori slipped in, his arms bending under the weight of a stack of books he was carrying as a last addition to the homely sanctuary. “I don’t know how long Fíli and Kíli can distract my love before he comes looking for me.”

As foreseen, Thorin found Bilbo—red-cheeked and laughing—in the Great Hall where he was engaged in a complicated game of dice. By the looks of frustration and dismay on his nephews’ faces, the Hobbit was also winning which gladdened Thorin’s heart even further.

“Ah, my dear, I shall soon own all the riches of Erebor,” Bilbo hooted as he tilted up his face to receive the forceful kiss he knew Thorin would give him. “This is a hostile take-over!”

“Erebor’s resources are at your disposal,” three Durins said at the same time, in the same self-evident tone, and Bilbo hid his face in his hands for a moment.

They always seemed so ruthlessly efficient and lethally competent that he seemed to regularly forget how sweet and gentle their hearts were—thankfully, they found enough opportunities to remind him that, beneath a tough veneer of polished metal and unyielding stone, they had the best, bravest, and most loyal souls.

“Come, leave the princes to lick their wounds,” Thorin prompted and pulled the other up by a pudgy, soft hand. “There is something I want to show you.”

Confusion and earnest curiosity shone on the handsome, homely face of the Hobbit as he let himself be dragged out of the room without putting up any resistance.

“Ah, the winters in Erebor are a sight to behold,” Bilbo babbled as they walked towards their bedroom. “Thorin?” Smouldering, sensual excitement thrummed in his voice now as he realised in which direction they were headed.

“As much as I wish…” the dwarven king laughed and pointed at the door that had been off-limits for his consort for a whole while now.

“Oh? I finally get to see what secrets you’ve hidden in there? I tried to pry it out of the princes—and I almost got Kíli to the point of letting something slip—but, ultimately, I could not learn anything I didn’t know already.” Visibly peeved by this, Bilbo accelerated his steps, so eager was he to finally get to the bottom of the mystery.

When the door swung open, a soft gasp escaped him.

“What is this then?” he murmured dazedly, even though he was much too astute not to recognise a sitting room when he saw one.

The bare stone walls had been covered with warm, dark wood and a comfortable-looking armchair sat on a beautifully woven rug—both had clearly been made by the Elves, and Bilbo’s head swivelled around slowly to gaze at his lover in speechless shock. He knew only too well how much Thorin objected to his neighbours and their faraway kin, so he could hardly imagine him inviting their craftsmen and artists to work on a room inside his hallowed, jealously guarded mountain.

“Let me,” Thorin grinned and went to kneel by the main draw of the private sitting room: the immense, intricately carved fireplace.

If his hands shook a little while he coaxed the reluctant embers into roaring flame, it was only understandable after all the trouble he had gone through to create this warm, cosy, safe space for his husband.

“You had this made for me?” Bilbo asked in a choked voice as he stepped closer to the richly adorned mantelpiece and traced the impressively detailed decorations of dragons, forests, and acorns. “This is the story of our adventure,” he whispered, entranced by the beauty of the craftsmanship.

“Your adventure, to be exact,” Thorin corrected gently and, getting back to his feet, tapped his finger against the first carving on the far left that depicted Bilbo’s little smial. “I am not entirely convinced by the way these pointy-eared bastards decided to represent me,” he grumbled, frowning at the burly, long-bearded, overly surly-looking doter in the middle of the fireplace’s border, “but I think that they did a solid job otherwise.”

“You…for me?” Bilbo repeated, his eyes starry with wordless delight and deep gratitude. “Why?”

“Well, there is a small smithy in the back garden of Bag End,” Thorin replied sheepishly. “You’ve been so very good at making space for me and ensuring that I’d feel welcome and comfortable in your home. As we stay here for the winter…”

“OH! But I love being here,” Bilbo exclaimed. “Bofur will make me a sleigh, and the boys and I shall have a wonderful time in the snow!”

Cupping Thorin’s bearded cheeks between his warm, slightly trembling hands and pulling that serious face down for a passionate, tender kiss, the Hobbit smiled indulgently. “I love Erebor,” he said. “It is cold and draughty, sure, but it has its own charm. I would not have agreed to stay here for the season if I did not honestly want to.”

His button nose twitched expressively—they both knew that, by now, Bilbo was indeed rarely the kind of creature to hide his displeasure or unwillingness. “More than anything, though, I love being here with you,” he insisted, “and this is wonderful, but it was not necessary.”

Leaning his still furrowed brow against the smooth one of his darling, Thorin gave a deep, shuddering sigh.

“You are the very best partner any Khâzad could ever dream of,” he murmured and slung his strong arms possessively around the lighter, narrower frame of the Hobbit. “Mahal be blessed—I often think that I do not deserve the love of one so kind and understanding.”

“Have you fallen on your head?” Bilbo laughed, reminding his spouse that he had forced him to clean and air out all the stuffy furs of last season only that morning. Thorin had grumbled extensively but had ended up complying. “If anything, I have become even more spoiled since knowing you.”

“Nonsense,” Thorin objected. “You are the very soul of bravery and resilience, dealing with my kin and people, charming my sister, and keeping Erebor up and running like clockwork without ever raising your voice!”

Chuckling sheepishly, Bilbo leaned into the embrace of the dwarven king he so adored and hummed happily as he felt tiny kisses being peppered onto the crown of his messy curls.

“Bombur shall bring up cupcakes soon,” Thorin whispered, his icy blue eyes warming as Bilbo’s head flew up and warm hazels lit up with eager delight. “He thanks you very kindly for your recipe—he said he might have added a distinctly dwarven twist to the rich creaminess of the sweet syrup.”

“Meat, you mean?” Bilbo laughed.

“You really did think of everything, haven’t you?” he then murmured and sank back into the strong, protective arms that would have been more than enough to keep the biting cold at bay as far as he was concerned. “I am so grateful for the immense effort you’ve made. Tell me, do I see foreign influences?”

“You’ve been so enamoured with the Elven designs.” Embarrassed, Thorin rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly—at the time they had passed through Rivendell, he had still pretended that he was in no way unduly interested in or attracted by their burglar.

The small squeak of emotion and joy escaping a much more sedate and fully claimed Bilbo now was worth a moment of painful truth though.

“You are well-liked, my love,” the King admitted. “Everyone has fallen over their feet to help.”

“Do I detect a note of jealousy?” Bilbo teased and pressed a soothing, tender kiss onto the warm skin of Thorin’s throat, just above the richly embroidered hem of his handsome tunic. “You needn’t be. As gratified as I am by the willingness of our friends to contribute to my happiness, I really only need you by my side!”

Mollified by this reassurance, Thorin led him over to the soft, inviting sofa and, together, they sat down with a low grunt of relaxation. Soon, Bilbo’s legs were swung over the armrest and his head was resting in Thorin’s lap while thick, blunt fingers carded through his soft hair distractedly.

“You are such a romantic—you’ve remembered all the things that we would have done in the Shire. I’ve never thought that you’d pay that much heed to our silly little habits.”

Snorting in vexation, Thorin tilted his bearded chin down to look at his most precious of gems.

“Maybe,” he said playfully, “it was I who missed the comforts of Bag End.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November

[0xy--m0r0n]

"We'll find them, Katie. I promise."

ive had this drawing for a while now but the reason i never posted it was because it was for a fic i was writing but never finished, and i didn't wanna get anyone's hopes up 😭

maybe I'll finish it one day but like. do Not expect anything 💀

also if you have a keen eye, you'll notice the stars are my banner image and have been for a while teehee

also this is primarily platonic!!!! please no shipping them here :(

pidge is very much a minor and shiro is dating her brother in my brain 🎉

also can you tell i figured out the coloured text thingy 💀

[randomquadballpun]

DAY 36 (attempt no 7)

John was dripping cold rainwater onto the floor of the entrance hall and the stairs as he hurried up to the flat with chattering teeth. He had just meant to drop off Rosie at school and buy some milk on the way back, but of course he had been caught in a heavy rain shower and soaked to the bone just minutes from home.

He scurried into the living room, not expecting to meet anyone so early in the morning, but to his surprise Sherlock was huddled on one side of the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees, a blanket slung around his shoulders and a concentrated expression on his face. Without even looking up he made a vague gesture towards a stack of towels that was precariously balanced on the armrest at the other end of the couch. John took them gratefully and began scrubbing one of them through his hair immediately. There even was a laundry basket set out at the foot of the couch so that he could drop his dripping clothes in there.

When he was almost done peeling out of the wet textiles, Sherlock closed the laptop and ambled over to one of the heaters by the window, where he picked up a stack of fresh clothes. John could spy his pyjama trousers as well as one of his especially soft winter jumpers. He let himself be assisted into the embrace of warm wool and soft cotton and felt gratitude spread all throughout him at the feeling of toasty warmth against his clammy skin.

Once fully clothed, Sherlock kicked the basket to the side uncaringly, before tugging John with him and back to the couch and arranging the both of them on there, until they had found a comfortable position of leaning against each other, the blanket now spread across the both of them and Johns damp head resting against the soft material of Sherlocks dressing gown.

No words were exchanged and no words were necessary. Sherlock merely picked his laptop back up and returned to his scrolling in a somewhat more awkward position, one arm slung possessively around Johns middle. John could make out some kind of online shop - yet more supplies for The Experiment by the look of it - and his eyes widened a bit when he saw the price tag that was currently displayed next to the little shopping cart symbol in the right upper corner. But he was far too comfortable and warm to start an argument about this - it was money spent on a good purpose after all ... kind of ... or so he hoped. Educational at the very least.

He felt fatigue weighing heavily on his eyelids. Sherlocks other hand started tracing patterns over Johns wool-covered stomach. It would probably be fine if he allowed himself a few more minutes of shut-eye. Just for a moment or two. He let his head rest against Sherlocks chest and allowed his eyes to fall shut, listening to the occasional clicking sound from the laptop, the regular pattern of Sherlocks relaxed breaths and the soothing patter of rain that continued beating against the living room windows.

--------------------

Troubleshooting, part 18/?

-> Something cosy for a change, because I was feeling like it. Mad sciencing will continue in the next update!

-> Next update can be read here.

-> Until then you can start reading this series at DAY 0 (tumblr/ao3) or read the previous snippet here.

[the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink]

If you need an excuse to write for G-Way I can ALWAYS use some kind of snuggly G-Way fic.

Like ...maybe Christmas shopping? Something fun and seasonal...baking cookies??? Snow...something? (I dunno...it's 50° F right now so like ...snow is pretty far off from the south in my neck of the USA)

Anywho...do whatcha want friend, and feel better! :)

💖💖💖🪦

A Hazy Shade of Winter (Gerard Way x reader) 

Summary: (y/n)’s never really been the type of person to do Christmassy things before - they don’t hate it, their family was just never that bothered! But Gerard loves all things Christmas, and he decides to show them just how much fun this time of year can be. 

Words: 2696 

Warnings: none it’s just adorable 

AN: it was snowing while I was writing this!!! I haven’t seen proper snow in years!!! 

“I can still feel you staring at me. Aren’t you bored yet?” 

“I just can’t believe you’ve never made a gingerbread house before!” 

(y/n) rolled their eyes with a laugh, glancing back over their shoulder. Gerard was still sitting at the little dining table, so distracted by that monumental bombshell that he’d stopped swinging back and forth on the chair. Had anyone else seen him, they would probably have assumed that he’d just been told the world was going to end. He looked genuinely devastated, baffled at the idea that something he’d loved so much as a kid hadn’t been a part of his partner’s life too. 

Drying the last mug, they tossed the tea towel aside and moved to sit opposite him. “Look, it’s not that big of a deal. My family just wasn’t ever that bothered about Christmas, that’s all.” 

“But it’s so much fun!” He couldn’t help but frown - so many of his fondest memories had come from enjoying the Christmas season with his family. Sure, there were some parts he hadn’t enjoyed; church services were always far too long and dull for his liking. But there were so many things that would never fail to make him smile. Begging to be the one to carry the Christmas tree home, even though there was no way in hell he was capable of carrying it all that way and hated asking for help. Hiding all his vegetables in very elaborate ways so he’d have tons of room for all the wonderful sweet things on offer. Saving tiny scraps of funky wrapping paper to fill in the gaps of the collage of random crap that covered the walls of his basement room. 

The one memory that stood out among all of those was the gingerbread house. Every year, his family had turned the kitchen into an absolute bombsite, trying to outdo themselves and what they’d designed in years past. They actually had a photo album somewhere, thick with pictures of every possible angle of each year’s creation. Every detail had to be perfect: the boiled sweet windows, the piped design for the roof, the little people posed to go about their daily activities. It had started out as a replica of their family, but had soon descended into utter madness. One year, there had been gingerbread aliens and a questionable rendition of Batman and Robin, soon joined by some even worse looking gingerbread zombies. Usually these little additions were Gerard or Mikey’s idea - and their mom was rarely impressed by the way they spoiled her nice tidy handiwork - but it really did make the whole thing something special. Entirely unique to their family. 

“And every time you’ve spoken about it, it’s sounded like a great time! And the photos your mom has are incredible.” They smiled, seeing his face brighten up a little. “It’s just... never how my family did things, that’s all. Usually at least one of my parents was working on the day so we never did much through the rest of December. Christmas always felt... I don’t know, a bit anticlimactic? I don’t think the seasonal depression helped either.” 

They’d only been together for four months, and there was still so much they had to learn about each other. Clearly, they’d had very different experiences growing up - neither had been bad, just different. And the wonderful thing about that was that it meant they could teach each other all the little things that they had done as kids! There were so many traditions that they could share and combine now, creating new ones that were entirely their own. 

Gerard got to his feet, taking (y/n) by the hand and pulling them to stand by the counter. “Let’s make a gingerbread house together.” 

“But I don’t know how.” 

“That doesn’t matter. I can teach you, and if things go wrong then we’ll just make it up as we go along anyway. That’s half the fun.” 

He looked so hopeful, eyes sparkling with childish glee, and there was simply no way they could say no to him. “Okay. But you can’t blame me if we end up setting your kitchen on fire.” 

“Hey, joint effort, joint blame. Now, I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything we need in here somewhere...” 

It took just about fifteen minutes for him to search through the cupboards, but in the end he’d managed to find everything the two of them would need to make the gingerbread. While he’d been looking, (y/n) had dug through his cupboards for a mixing bowl and baking sheets, excited by the thought of baking together again. They’d tried to make cupcakes a couple of weeks prior, but they had come out slightly burnt because they’d been distracted scraping the remaining batter out of the bowl. It had been tons of fun, and they just knew that this would be the same. 

Gerard took the lead, directing his partner to weigh out the right amount of each ingredient while he melted the butter, sugar and syrup together. They were following instructions from a slightly stained handwritten recipe, a sheet written up by his mother that was a little sticky in places - clearly, it was one that got brought out and used on a regular basis. 

When it came to kneading the dough, they ended up having to split the mixture in half so they could both get involved; then it became a competition, both trying to create the most phallic shapes they could. That’s what happens when you let two people with the emotional maturity of twelve year olds into a kitchen - food fights and inappropriate jokes. 

They let the dough rest for a little while, killing time by leaving floury handprints on each other’s butts and working their way through a bag of chocolate chips that had been hiding in the back of one of the cupboards. When it came to rolling the dough out, they were a little more well behaved - at first. After creating enough rectangular sheets for the walls and roof, along with two little people to represent themselves and some extra details to add, like window frames and doors, all of the leftover dough was used for normal gingerbread cookies. Well, if you can call gingerbread dicks and disproportionate hands flipping the middle finger ‘normal’. After a moment of thinking they added Gerard’s bandmates to the mix too, throwing in some cookies shaped like Frank’s dogs for good measure. 

While the dough was in the fridge, they cleaned up all the mess they’d made so far - before creating even more when (y/n) knocked over the bag of sugar. Well, it wasn’t entirely their fault. The only reason their elbow had ended up hitting it in the first place was because Gerard had taken them by surprise, pinning them against the counter and kissing them so hard it felt like they would never breathe properly again. 

The beep of the timer stopped their little make out session from going any further and they worked to fit all the trays of gingerbread in the oven at once, both a little red and flustered. As they brought the last tray over, (y/n) stopped dead, staring out the window in wonder. 

“When did it snow?”

There was probably a foot of snow on the ground; it seemed like it had appeared out of nowhere! Like it had just flopped out of the sky in one big sheet and landed with a soft thump in a pillowy layer or pure white. Neither of them had noticed it start to fall (probably because they’d been so busy with their tongues down each other’s throats) and the dim afternoon seemed so much brighter now that it had something to reflect off. 

The gingerbread only needed ten minutes in the oven, and when it was finished Gerard cleared some space on the counter and set the trays out to cool. Both of them grinned as the smell of sweet gingerbread filled the kitchen, before hissing in pain - at exactly the same time, they had reached for one of the spare cookies and burnt their fingertips. That made the pair of them crack up laughing at their own idiocy, lamenting the fact that they would have to wait for everything to cool down before they could try their creation. So they finished the last of the cleaning instead, bouncing ideas for decorations back and forth. 

“What about a little woolly sweater on the dog?” 

“We should put ‘elf’ on Frank’s jumper because he’s so tiny.” 

“Hey, let’s ice a string of lights around all the windows!”

“I’ll call my mom and ask her how to make the snow out of marshmallow, she always does that and it’s insanely cool.” 

By now the real snow outside was falling thick and fast again, blanketing the ground outside with at least two feet of soft white flakes. Gerard couldn’t help but smile at the look of sheer awe on his partner’s face as they stared out of the window, fingers resting lightly against the glass. 

“It’s pretty, huh? Not quite as pretty as you, though.” 

They didn’t really register the second thing he said, lost in the glorious swirling eddies outside. “I... I’ve never seen snow like this before.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Where I’m from, all we ever got was a crappy layer of slush, or black ice deadly enough to break your neck. I don’t think we ever had more than an inch of actual snow at any one time.” 

Resting a hand on the small of their back, he nuzzled against the side of their head. “Wanna go out and play for a little while?” 

“I thought we were gonna start decorating?” 

“Oh, we can’t do that for a good few hours, at least. The gingerbread needs a while to cool. And, if we’re using my mom’s tricks - which we definitely are, by the way, she is the undisputed queen of gingerbread - then we should leave it overnight. She always says its better when it’s had time to rest properly.” 

“Ah.” (y/n) was quiet for a moment, and he started to think that maybe something he’d done had touched a nerve. Maybe he’d upset them somehow. Maybe something he’d said at some point had made their thoughts wander somewhere a little unpleasant. But then they turned to look at him, a quiet sort of hope flickering in their eyes. “Can we... can we make snow angels?” 

“Hey, of course we can! They might not be there by the morning though, with the way that snow’s falling it wouldn’t surprise me if we woke up to a couple more feet.” 

“That’s fine. I’ve just never done it before.” 

“Oh, so we are absolutely doing it today then. Come on.” 

Within five minutes, the pair of them had their shoes on and were zipping up each other’s coats, sifting through the drawers of random crap in the hall cupboard to find enough hats, scarves and gloves to keep them both nice and cosy. The second they were all bundled up, Gerard took (y/n) by the hand and practically dragged them into his backyard. The snow came up to their knees, soaking through their jeans - the cold was uncomfortable, but it soon became easy to ignore. The very first thing the two of them did was lay backwards, (y/n) squeaking as snow slipped into the hood of their coat. Once they were laid flat, Gerard explained just how snow angels worked, giggling a little as his coat swished against the snowy ground with every movement. They got the hang of it soon enough, feeling a bit uncoordinated at first but very much enjoying it anyway. 

When he was satisfied with the mark he’d left, Gerard struggled back to his feet and hauled his lover upwards, kissing them deeply. “Hey, look what we did!” 

They glanced down, smiling at the sight before them. The two snow angels were slightly wonky - like the people who’d created them - and close enough to be almost holding hands. They were ever so slightly marred by footprints, but beautiful nonetheless. 

(y/n) beamed, cheeks feeling red raw from the cold wind. “Aw, they’re so cute! They look just like the ones you see in cartoons.” 

“I know, right? Now, you feeling up to a little snow friend as well? Or are you getting too cold?” 

“Snow friend, definitely.” 

By the time they had managed to roll two decent sized balls - one for a body and one for a head - their noses were bright red and neither of them could really feel their fingers any more. But they just weren’t ready to go back inside yet; they were having far too much fun! Who cares about a little frostbite when you’re having the time of your life with the person you love? 

Finding things to decorate their snow friend with was a little more challenging - by now, the snow was thick enough that they weren’t going to find anything on the ground to use. So they had to get creative. The standard carrot for the nose was pretty easy to find in the kitchen - and along with it came two frozen brussels sprouts for the eyes. Deciding that it was doing very little against the cold anyway, (y/n) donated their scarf to their new little buddy. Gerard liked that idea and gave up his hat, a dusting of snow settling across his hair as he tried to fit it onto the head. The two of them were a bit stuck for ideas on what to use for the arms, eventually deciding on a pair of spare drumsticks that they found in his office - why Gerard had drumsticks, neither of them really knew. They'd just sort of appeared there.

Standing in front of their slightly lopsided creation, Gerard wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and grinned. "Well they're a little crooked, but very sweet. Any ideas on a name?"

They thought for a moment, shivering now they had stopped moving around so much. "They kinda look like a Norman to me."

"Norman, huh? Yeah, I think that fits." The twilight above them was quickly darkening, and both of them were definitely feeling the cold. "Wanna head in now?"

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. I haven't been able to feel my toes for the last twenty minutes."

When they got back inside, the smell of gingerbread seemed even stronger than it had done earlier, and the two of them felt instantly warmer - even though their fingertips were a slightly questionable shade of purple. They left their damp gloves and coats hanging up to dry by the door, giggling all the way up the stairs as they peeled off their icy wet clothes and searched through Gerard's drawers to find something for (y/n) to wear. It was getting to the point in their relationship now where they were staying over at his house with some regularity, and he was considering asking if they'd like to have a drawer to keep some stuff in. They already had a toothbrush in his bathroom. That was just the next natural step.

Once they were both in warmer, drier clothes, they went back down to the kitchen, still cold to the bone but slowly warming up. Gerard made hot chocolate for each of them, piling each mug with such a large amount of whipped cream and marshmallows that it was practically impossible to drink without making a complete mess of things.

As they snuggled up on the couch, huddling under the blankets and letting the mugs warm their hands, Gerard pressed a kiss to the side of (y/n)'s head. "So, did I successfully get you to enjoy some Christmassy things today?"

"Yeah, you did." They smiled softly, nuzzling against him. "I can enjoy anything when I'm with you."

"You might not say that tomorrow when I start icing those gingerbread men to look like storm troopers instead of us."

"I bet I can ice better looking ones than you can."

"Oh, you've just started a gingerbread war."

"Yeah, and I'll win."

"I'd like to see you try."