#December prompt

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

One More Step

December prompt: time

485 words

Rating: G

No warnings apply

@steddiemicrofic

“C’mon, Eds,” Steve whispers. He’s ignoring the physical therapist to their side, ignoring the doctors walking by the open door. He’s focused completely on Eddie, the way he takes an extra-deep breath before barreling through the motion, swinging one leg in front to take a halting, shuddering step forward. “Good,” Steve whispers. “Good, Eds, almost there, c’mon, one more step. You got this. Just one more step.”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers, closing his eyes and lowering his head. “Think ‘m gonna fall.”

“I’ll catch you,” Steve swears. “But you haven’t fallen yet, Eddie. One more step. Then we can go back to your room. Whaddya wanna do? Read? Watch TV?”

Eddie snorts. “Y’mean make f-fun of- of, uh.” He sighs out a breath, wobbles. “The characters.”

“Yeah, like I said, watch TV.” He grins at Eddie, his excitement growing as Eddie takes the final step.

His knees buckle, and he throws his arms out toward Steve, who swoops in and catches him, helps him get his feet back underneath him, shoulders most of his weight as they hobble back to the wheelchair.

Steve never thought he’d enjoy physical therapy. He doesn’t enjoy seeing people in pain. But he does love seeing people triumph, try to push through the pain to success.

Or, maybe, it’s his patient that makes all the difference.

He never thought he’d enjoy physical therapy, and he never thought he’d end up friends with the freak of Hawkins High, but somehow both of those things happened, and now he’s standing in front of the physical therapist as he proclaims Steve ready to assist Eddie on his own.

“He’s set to be released at the end of the week,” the therapist tells Steve, who nods. He’d gotten the same information from the doctor that morning. “He’ll need to do these exercises every day. Is that something you’d be willing and able to do?”

“Definitely,” Steve nods firmly.

The therapist smiles, shakes his hand. “Then congratulations on your first patient,” he jokes, but Steve’s smile as he turns to Eddie couldn’t be more real.

“You ready to get outta here?”

Eddie huffs a tired laugh. “No offense, Doc, but if I never have to come back it’ll be too soon.”

He just laughs, waving them out.

The exercises don’t get easier to do, but Eddie gets stronger, and he’s able to walk more. Soon enough he’s walking almost the full length of the hallway upstairs.

“C’mon, Eds,” Steve tells him, at the other end of the hallway. “You’ve got this.”

Eddie’s first few steps are easy, confident. About halfway through he slows down, and by the time he’s two steps away from Steve, he’s wobbling. “C’mon, Eds,” Steve whispers, an echo of the first time. “One more step.”

He manages the last two steps, falls into Steve’s arms. “Thank you,” he whispers, painting the lightest of kisses onto Steve’s lips.

Steve grins and kisses back.

[theinfamousmaybelle]

May I present...KINDCEMBER!

I HAD TO DO A 4000 x 4000 CANVAS JUST TO FIT ALL OF THIS, PLEASE DO IT- DO YOU REALIZE HOW LAGGY IT GOT!? 😭😭😭

@aquaequa commented on a post by @/alexandraisyes and so we (me and Aqua) decided to make a thing called Kindcember. Just finished it! Basically, you say some things you like about the characters listed! You can even do UNLISTED characters!

@annakenziesworld @dagh0stking @silly-a-777 @adumblittlegachakid @multifandomcutie13 @meagancandraw @superstar8bongos @tsams-and-co-memes @ryomaandgundhamkin @ayyy-imma-ninja @purple-ana16 @lunar-solarsystem @that-one-unknown-artist @bluefireskiesfox and anyone else...I feel weird tagging ppl who aren't my moots, but you guys are a positive force in the community, and so I feel I can trust you. Apologies for tagging! If you'd like your tag removed, please tell me. If you wanna tag anyone else, go ahead. Please don't hate me for tagging you- please-

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 15 - First Kiss

Watching the scenery in silence was less tedious than Sherlock expected. But he couldn’t talk to John. Everything John did lately only made him nervous, or suspicious, or depressed… Or happy. Most of the things made him happy, really. But sitting in silence felt wrong too. There had been too much silence between them for the wrong reasons and he didn't like it.

“You asked me about me… earlier and I…” He cleared his throat. “I suppose I also struggle with sharing personal information.”

John turned his head, browsed raised. “You think?”

Sherlock gave an awkward smile back. “I suppose I felt, as you did, that I didn’t want you to be… nervous about moving in with me… so I…” He tilted his head trying to think how to say things properly. “Like you, John, I’m not one to share things with the world. About myself. But I think, perhaps, it then became too hard… to share them with you. I left it too long. We had an understanding and that was enough.”

John nodded. “It is enough, Sherlock. We don’t have to know everything about each other to be best friends. Knowing each other’s sexual interests changes nothing about our case work together or our daily lives. It’s irrelevant.”

Irrelevant.

“Neither of us seems built for long term things. Perhaps we’re each an acquired taste. Like a fine liquor,” John suggested. “Not meant for everyone.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Perhaps you’re right. Or perhaps we have incredibly high standards.”

John scoffed. “You’ve been observing my dating. I wouldn’t say that’s the problem, would you?”

Sherlock couldn’t help laughing at the remark. “No, perhaps not. Not those women. But, perhaps, in looking for the right one, John. The person you would settle down for? None of your usual women are marriage material, obviously.”

“Oh, I think most women our age think only of marriage and snagging a man to get them babies. Maybe that’s the actual problem.”

“Do you want that? Marriage? Children?” Sherlock asked, trying to hide all self interest from his expression. 

John looked at Sherlock a little surprised. “You’ve really started delving for answers haven’t you?” he teased. “The amount of information you’ve pulled from me in the space of a day is… ridiculous.”

“Well?” Sherlock asked expectantly, not to be deterred.

John sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve not really thought about it. Maybe once. I had a long term thing... once. A long time ago. In med school. I thought…maybe…” John’s eyes drifted off, his thoughts far away for a moment. “That was the only time I discussed kids and marriages. Alex,” John offered with a smile.”

“Alex?” Sherlock accepted the name like it was delicate cargo. John was sharing real information now. “And was she interested in those things too?” he asked.

John shook his head. “In the end, things were too complicated.” He looked out the window to the scenery, clearly uncomfortable.

“Well, that’s a shame. She missed out on how great you are now,” Sherlock offered. There was a pain in his chest at the idea that John had built a serious life with someone that he never spoke about, that could have been 'the one' big thing for him. Was that why he was so guarded now?

“Too old for kids now,” John scoffed, keeping his eyes fixed outside. “Could you imagine the chaos?” he tried to make it sound flippant, joking, but it fell flat and sounded bitter. 

Sherlock reached out and put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, John.”

“Not your doing. Sometimes life sends us in new directions. I flew into a war zone to move on from that one and… well you’ve seen what I’ve done with my life since,” John said with a grimace. “But I met you because of all of that. It led me to here.”

Sherlock sat in silence. He really had opened some wounds on John which were telling, fascinating. He wanted to know more but he needed to be careful not to push too hard. After his pep talk with his brother he had been so eager to rush home and just blurt everything out. But instead, he was going to have to treat John like case work. Like a delicate puzzle that needed solving, unwinding, to find the way in.

“So. No children. But a contented life with someone?” Sherlock probed. “Surely you still hope for that?”

“Isn’t that what we already have?” John asked. He turned his head to look at Sherlock and it was clear his eyes were red-rimmed. The topic had upset him.

Sherlock’s stomach sank. “John—“ He should stop this now. It wasn't worth upsetting John over.

“Well, it’s true. We have the work. And our friendship. It’s a good life, Sherlock. It’s certainly the happiest I’ve been in a long time and precious little makes me happy these days, as you know.” He huffed and crossed his arms. “Maybe for some people... that’s all we get. And it’s okay. I am content. I've made peace with it.”

Sherlock swallowed hard and was rendered speechless. Unintentionally, they had chosen one another and while Sherlock secretly wanted more, it was nice to know John felt that way, at least.  John returned his gaze to the scenery and Sherlock picked up his phone to scroll on it in silence, to leave him with his thoughts. 

John’s voice interrupted him quite a while later. He had obviously needed time to think and process.

“Did you ever? With anyone? You know, make plans and all that?” John asked awkwardly. 

Sherlock huffed. “No. You think you’re insufferable? Then what am I?”

“Oi, I don’t think I ever used the word insufferable… for me at least,” John teased, nudging Sherlock gently with his shoulder.

Sherlock couldn’t help smiling at that. “Fair point,” he said. No, John wasn’t the insufferable one at all. 

“Did you want to? Ever settle down?” John asked.

The idea of settling down had never even crossed Sherlock’s mind. The question surprised him. Oh, he knew it was a ritual people performed. He’d attended weddings, admittedly more of them as a detective checking a dead body than as a guest which really said something about the institution - at least in Sherlock’s mind. But he had never given any of it much thought. Making friends or attempting to date had been so uncomfortable that he never thought beyond that. Until John.

“Only once,” Sherlock said gently, looking at his lap. If he was going to get through this he needed to just say it all and not look up. Just power through. “I know I’m difficult. Most people find me difficult and I struggled with that for a long time. And then I found the drugs and I didn’t have to worry about anyone but myself for a while. I was a selfish mess and I needed no one. But then there was a light. A light came into my life that changed everything. A strong, kind, caring being who made everything else seem unimportant. All the people who hadn’t understood me before didn’t matter and it was as if a path forward finally lit up before me. It all made sense.” He stopped and fidgeted with his hands.  Keep going, he willed himself.

“The thing is, John, after all this time, I’ve realised… I don’t need anything else, anyone else. Like you, I’m content with how things are. You at Baker Street. Working together on cases, and just… carrying on in… what do they call it? Domesticated bliss, I suppose? And I know you’re uncomfortable working out how you fit in with your… identity or whatever you want to call it. So I’m not saying this to complicate that. But Mycroft - I know, I know, I shouldn’t listen to him but he is prone to the occasional wisdom - anyway, he suggested that I just talk to you. We’re best friends. So I am just talking to you. I’m just telling you what’s in my head, or in my heart, as it were. And you can do with that, what you will. The fact is, I… for some time now, I… have thought that I would very much like to… ask you… That is, I wondered, if perhaps, you might… have dinner with me? I mean, I know we eat dinner together all the time. That’s not what I mean, obviously. I mean, really have dinner. As in, a date. I’m asking you on a date John.” Sherlock was terrified to turn his head, to look at John’s reaction. What in heaven’s name would he think of it all? At least he hadn’t run yet. He was still sitting there.

Using all his willpower, he turned his head only to find John Watson sleeping. Sitting upright, arms still crossed, his neck tilted in the most uncomfortable looking position. He was absolutely still.

Sherlock sighed and then chuckled to himself. Of course. Of course he would have missed all of that.

He let out another heavy sigh of resignation. He lifted his arm up and over John’s head to gently nudge him, so his head fell onto Sherlock’s waiting shoulder. He left his arm there, curved around John's shoulder to support his friend. Perhaps it was for the best that he didn't hear. John said he was content. Why rush things? He already had John Watson in every other way. Maybe that would simply need to be enough.

He looked down at John’s light hair just resting on his dark woollen coat. His arms had uncrossed as he tilted, and one of his hands had fallen onto Sherlock's thigh which was all Sherlock could look at now. He could hear John’s gentle, steady breathing and it felt so perfect. 

“This can be enough,” he whispered to himself and he tilted his head down and placed a kiss on the top of John’s head. “This can be enough.”

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @little-owls-things @daltongraham 

@sillygirlsmindpalace @oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn 

@therealalexisamess-blog @e-b1838 @rhasima @salmonsown @tropelovingpainter 

@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @melodious-me

[sketchnskribbles]

December Prompt: Roasting Marshmellows

The fire crackled comfortingly. It’s heat faithfully battling against the cold night’s chill. Lucy still shivered and huddled further into the sweater she’d found a few weeks before.

The Ghoul had been fairly excited earlier, just before the sun had set, when he’d stumbled upon a bag of marshmallows in the shopping mart they’d decided to loot in.

The bag hadn’t even been opened. Tucked away on an abandoned shelf in the corner of the mart.

“Hey, sweetheart, would ya’ look at this?” He’d bent down to snag the bag. Swiveling on his heel to present it to her. An unusually bright smile adorning his radiation-torn face. It had made his eyes sparkle.

Lucy had felt her cheeks warm and she quickly looked away from him and to the bag. “What’d you find?”

“Only some of the most delicious bite-sized pieces of sugar, ever.” He looked so proud of himself and youthful in a way she doubted she’d see again. “I think we should find ourselves a place to stop for the night and start ourselves a fire, ‘fore it gets too cold. What you think?”

“Sounds good to me.” Lucy was internally relieved. She was sure he could clearly see how shaky her sore legs were. How much she had been shivering. The winter months were here and she had never realized just how cold it would be. She could even feel the bite of the air down deep to her bones.

It was one of the most uncomfortable experiences she had faced so far, since coming to the surface. Unlike many of the hardships living up here brought. She was thankful that they were usually temporary.

The cold never stopped. Not since the end of the October month.

It was a wonderful thing when, this night, Ghoul managed to find a place he liked before the hour was up. The man could be so stubborn and picky about their resting spots.

Once done with her side of the camp set-up list, Lucy sat down on a log hidden within their space and watched Ghoul prepare and start the fire.

The first lick of the flames sent soothing warmth through her. Causing her to close her eyes and sigh.

A creak of the wood made her look over to see Ghoul taking a seat next to her. The rough material of his cloak rubbing against the starchy texture of her sweater. He had in his hand a stick from off the ground. The opposite end of it was gently thrust into the fire for a minute, before he opened the marshmallow bag and stuffed one white fluffy piece onto the stick.

“Now this is what we, Cowpoke, call “roasting marshmallows”.” He said with a happy lilt to his voice. Though he continued to smile, his eyes held a tinge of something bittersweet. “I used to take my little girl on camping trips, where we would…”

Lucy smiled and leaned her head to rest on her crossed arms. She was glad that Cooper Howard had begun to feel comfortable enough to let her listen as he reminisced about his daughter, who he loved so much. Even hundreds of years later.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d made plenty of s’mores growing up in her Vault-tec crafted underground society. Those, too, were warm memories. Of sitting beside her baby brother and getting the chance to teach him how to craft his first s’more when he was little, getting to teach him campfire songs that their dad had taught her, and all the years of memories after that.

Lucy knew how wonderful it was to be able to talk about something good in your life and having someone there willing to listen. Goodness knows, Cooper deserved to be able to take the time to talk about something that went right in his life.

[literaryvein-references]

When your Character...

Gets into: A Fight ⚜ ...Another Fight ⚜ ...Yet Another Fight

Hates Someone ⚜ Kisses Someone ⚜ Falls in Love

Calls Someone they Love ⚜ Dies / Cheats Death ⚜ Drowns

is...

A Ballerina ⚜ A Child ⚜ Interacting with a Child ⚜ A Cheerleader

A Cowboy ⚜ A Genius ⚜ A Lawyer ⚜ A Pirate ⚜ A Spy

A Wheelchair User ⚜ A Zombie ⚜ Beautiful ⚜ Dangerous ⚜ Drunk

Funny ⚜ In a Coma ⚜ In a Secret Society ⚜ Injured ⚜ Shy

needs...

A Magical Item ⚜ An Aphrodisiac ⚜ A Fictional Poison

A Coping Strategy ⚜ A Drink ⚜ A Medicinal Herb ⚜ A Mentor

Money ⚜ A Persuasion Tactic ⚜ A Quirk ⚜ To be Killed Off

To Become Likable ⚜ To Clean a Wound ⚜ To Self-Reflect

To Find the Right Word, but Can't ⚜ To Say No ⚜ To Swear

loves...

Astronomy ⚜ Baking ⚜ Cooking ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Food ⚜ Oils

Dancing ⚜ Fashion ⚜ Gems ⚜ Herbal Remedies ⚜ Honey

Mushrooms ⚜ Mythology ⚜ Numbers ⚜ Perfumes

Roses ⚜ Sweets ⚜ To Argue ⚜ To Insult ⚜ To Kiss

To Make False Claims ⚜ Wine ⚜ Wine-Tasting ⚜ Yoga

has/experiences...

Allergies ⚜ Amnesia ⚜ Bereavement ⚜ Bites & Stings

Bruises ⚜ Caffeine ⚜ CO Poisoning ⚜ Color Blindness

Facial Hair ⚜ Fainting ⚜ Fevers ⚜ Food Allergies

Food Poisoning ⚜ Fractures ⚜ Frostbite ⚜ Hypothermia

Injuries ⚜ Jet Lag ⚜ Kidnapping ⚜ Manipulation ⚜ Mutism

Pain ⚜ Paranoia ⚜ Poisoning ⚜ More Pain & Violence

Scars ⚜ Trauma ⚜ Viruses ⚜ Wounds

[these are just quick references. more research may be needed to write your story...]

Writing Resources PDFs

[covergirlnay]

December Photo Challenge: Selfie 🤳🏾

Bracing myself for the work day back. 😫☕️😅

[12daysficmas]

Day 01 - December

The final month of the year is here

Time for reflection, celebration, and planning

Is it joy or dread for the final countdown of the year?

[hanasnx]

Not that I’ve thought about it but I just want clark to fuck me into the mattress after a fight, like legs up on his shoulders and all and then him being condescending and stuff, definitely red k Clark

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! — request DC characters.

“Not much—mm—to say now, huh?” RED!CLARK KENT grills you through his own grunts of effort, big hands clamped on your hips to stay in control of your movements. “Nothing for that shrill little voice to nag about ‘cept how hard I’m going.” Sharply, he exhales through his nose just as you gasp, his tip cutting a little too deep, shocking you at the touch of your cervix. It’s the position, it just makes it too accessible. Your feet bob next to his head with every sheathe while he keeps you folded over yourself with his weight.

“You are going too hard—!” you complain, but it’s just to get at him. Rough fingers press into your flesh, and you cry out as he uses your words against you.

“See what I mean?” he remarks, and the smirk in his lips exposes one of his famous dimples. Curtly, he adjusts you, propping himself up over you so he can lay his body over the backs of your thighs. It raises your hips naturally, makes the fit a little more comfortable. At the sight of your fluttering eyes, he leans in for a kiss, sucking on your pliant lips while the sounds of sex fill the room. He lets off with a pop, but murmurs against your mouth, “No matter how much we fight,” that irresistible Clark Kent charm shines through in his grin, flaring up your irritation at how easy it is for him to get you to forgive him. His head nods up. “Your ankles always have a place on my shoulders.”

[memelovescaps]

It's December.

And I have been reminded of this story I wrote two years ago for the @houseofsnarry December prompts.

I'm quite proud of how it turned out!

Fic for the December prompts for the House of Snarry @houseofsnarry December Prompts. It’s the Slug Club Christmas Party, the first one after the war. Headmaster Snape observes, and Harry wants. And he wants a lot, maybe more than Snape can give him. Or is it?

Prompts filled:

Fandom: Slug Club Party Song: “All I Want for Christmas is You” - Mariah Carey Picture: Snowing in town

When he was out, Harry looked up, a wide smile plastered on his face.

It was snowing.

He closed his eyes and laughed as the snow fell on him, wetting his face. When he looked to his right, Snape was watching him.

His previously empty and vacant eyes weren’t there anymore.

Now he was looking at him with rapture eyes, his gaze fixed on him, a sudden fire glowing in them. His lips were twitched upwards, a ghost of a smile on his face, and his black raven hair was beginning to turn white with the snowflakes falling onto it.

Harry looked at him with a wide grin.

“It’s snowing.”

“Brilliant observation, as usual,” Snape said with a smirk of his own.

Harry said nothing, instead deciding to start walking through the wet pavement, Snape falling easily next to him in step.

But he wanted to do something to thank Snape for being here with him.

Slowly, ready to move back if Snape reacted badly, he looped one of his arms gently around Snape’s. The Headmaster stopped walking, looking at their looped arms with his eyebrows pulled up and together in slight alarm. But then Harry’s fingers rubbed his arm over his coat, and Snape seemed to immediately relax under his touch.

“Thank you, sir” Harry whispered as he leaned closer to him, “thanks for coming with me tonight.”

Snape merely kept walking, though his strides were shorter and slower, his entire body seemed to melt under his touch. Gaining confidence, Harry grabbed his arm a bit tighter, resting his face against his shoulder.

He was expecting a rebuff, but none came.

Instead, he felt Snape’s arm pulling him in, as he felt his face leaning closer to him.

Harry stopped his steps, closing his eyes as he felt Snape’s lean arm, his own heart beating madly in his chest. When he looked up he saw Snape’s face inches away from him. He saw Snape’s lips twitching in a ghost of a smile.

He never knew who leaned first, but the moment their lips touched, nervous and hesitant, it felt like an explosion in his chest. Something tingled down his spine as he felt Snape’s lips pressing against his, it still had tinges of the mulled wine. Nectar from the gods itself, that was.

His body was shaking like a leaf and he gripped Snape’s arm tighter, he distantly felt his arm around his back, pulling him in as Snape deepened the kiss. His throat let out a low moan that Snape captured, hungry for him, his kiss becoming stronger.

Harry could only feel the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body, the strength of his pull. The snow kept falling on them, but they didn’t feel cold, so wrapped up in their own bubble of warmth.

When they came out to breathe, Harry felt like he’d been born anew.

Snape’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes completely black, a hunger Harry was desperate to sate.

READ ON AO3

ON FANFICTION

AND ON WATTPAD

[andalorii]

Fave - the Plumed Autumntail

daily december familiars! following Osiem's prompt list!!

the plumed autumntail is obviously the best familiar and has no contenders.

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

December prompt: pine

Word count: 508

No warnings apply

Rated T

@steddiemicrofic

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a major problem, not really. It’s not Vecna again. Not even close.

It’s Eddie.

After the gates closed for the final time, Steve and Eddie had gotten along in a way that had far surpassed Dustin’s expectations, and then some.

For the past five months, Steve has been overjoyed to call Eddie his boyfriend.

A boyfriend who hasn’t stepped foot in Steve’s house since November changed into December and he broke the Christmas decorations out.

Steve had been over to Eddie’s multiple times, which isn’t a problem, per se, but, well…

Steve and Eddie are both healthy young men with certain needs that arise occasionally. And they can’t do anything half the time because Wayne’s home, and none of them want that.

And of course, Steve could always go home and do it himself, but it’s not the same. He’s not touched his boyfriend below the belt in over ten days and he thinks he’s going through withdrawal.

“You’re not going through withdrawal, you’re horny and pining,” Robin says flatly. Steve squawks at her.

He keeps trying to figure it out, is the thing. He wonders if Eddie is secretly a grinch, but no, his boyfriend loves Christmas more than he does.

Maybe it’s the rich-person decorations, but that’s never stopped Eddie from coming over before. And besides, Steve had explained that none of the decorations were his, but his parents’, and just what he had, and Eddie had seemed to understand. He’d come over no problem… before Steve put up the decorations.

It has to be something, he knows, so he goes home and looks around. Wreath on the front door, Christmas tree in the living room, garland on the stairs, lights in the kitchen… it’s nothing that Eddie doesn’t have too—besides the garland on the stairs—but he can’t see Eddie getting upset about that. Certainly not enough to where he’d refuse to come over.

Steve finally, reluctantly realizes Robin’s right. He needs to talk to Eddie, so he drives over before he has the chance to lose his nerve. “Eddie?”

“Stevie!” Eddie brightens almost comically and pulls him inside before kissing him. “Hey, baby.” He pulls back and must see something on Steve’s face because suddenly he looks worried. “What’s wrong?”

Steve worries his lip and blurts out, “Did I do something?”

Eddie’s face drops. “Sweetheart, no, what- what’s happening? What’re you thinking?” He leads Steve over to the couch and sits with him.

Steve shrugs miserably. “I’m being stupid,” he mutters.

“Honey,” Eddie says seriously, “you’re not stupid. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“You won’t come over.” Steve looks down at their intertwined hands. “Ever since I put up Christmas decorations. You came over once, cut it short, and haven’t come over again. So I must’ve done something.”

“Oh, babylove,” Eddie sighs. “No, you didn’t do anything. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you. I don’t know why I haven’t yet.” He looks down, then back up. “I’m allergic to pine, baby. And you have a real tree.”

[theinfamousmaybelle]

BE PREPARED...TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF KINDCEMBER! I MIGHT NOT BE ONLINE FOR A WEEK SO THERE'S A POSSIBILITY I WON'T BE ABLE TO. BUT GET READY TO SAY SOME THINGS YOU LOVE ABOUT EARTH!

Click for better quality because Tumblr destroyed it.

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 18 - Fluff

“What about this?” John said, holding up a perfectly ugly ornament.

Sherlock burst out laughing. “That’s ridiculous, John.”

“Wait, wait,” he said excitedly, grabbing another. “This one looks like your brother.” John gave a comical quirk of his brow, as he held up an ornament of a deformed looking dog with a particularly sour look on its face.

Sherlock tried for the longest time to hold it together but ended up bent over with laughter and then when he had finally settled down, he reached out and took the ornament from John. “Well it's settled, we’re getting this one for his tree. Even he will agree to the resemblance.” Sherlock winked at John. “I like this tradition of yours. It’s fun. I’m just sorry… that things with Harry are…”

“You don’t need to do that,” John said, cutting him off, keeping his eyes on the ornaments. “It is what it is.”

“But it’s times like this that these little traditions become more… painful.” He nodded to himself as he said it, thinking about how to smooth this over. He needed to share something. John coped better when he was part of a shared experience, not by being spotlighted.

“My brother used to do a… treasure hunt," he began, standing beside John at the wall, also looking at the decorations and pretending not to focus on his friend. "Every birthday, when I was young. Our parents were both always working and they paid a very lovely nanny to care for us, but they weren’t the most present of parents. One year Mummy and Daddy were away for my birthday, so Mycroft hid all the presents, and made up little riddles to make me work to find them - to solve puzzles.” Sherlock snorted “I suppose he helped hone my brain, which was undoubtedly the real purpose of the activity in his eyes. But as a young, arrogant, highly intelligent child it was a lifeline for my boredom. He did it for a few years… and then he moved out of home and he forgot about it, got busy with his own life. It meant a lot to me. I’d never tell him that, of course. He has enough of an ego as it is. But sometimes, on my birthday, I feel a little tinge of sadness. I miss it.” He looked over at John who had finally stopped avoiding eye contact and was watching Sherlock intently, listening.

“We can make this our new tradition…" Sherlock tried to suggest. "Until the time you and Harry—“

“That won’t happen,” John said flatly.

“Well, then it can be ours alone, from now on,” Sherlock replied firmly. “I like it. Christmas can be such an unnecessary time of year. Particularly when one isolates themselves from family. You know I’ve never been fond of it. I think having a sense of humour about it is… an excellent way to survive it. Together.” Sherlock nodded.

“Together...” John agreed with a little nod, weighing up the words. 

Sherlock looked down at the ornament in his hand and played with it, almost lovingly. Finally he looked back up at John. “Now, we need to find an ornament that reminds us of Mrs Hudson,”  he said with a cheeky smile.

John smiled back at him. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

Sherlock put a hand on his arm in support, and then returned to looking at the wall of decorations and the moment passed. John continued looking too but he felt Sherlock’s eyes on him at all times, watching him closely. 

They decided after a time, to make their way to the Christmas markets. As they wandered through, the evening light faded and the twinkle of the Christmas lights became even more beautiful. John finally felt, for the first time all day, that he was relaxed. 

“Oh John, come here!” Sherlock called out, moving to a stall on one side. “Look at these hats! Sherlock grabbed a silly hat and placed it on his own head. A knitted hat with dangling plaits down the side, and pom-poms. He looked ridiculous, and yet completely adorable. “I used to have a hat like this,” he laughed. Then he grabbed another one and put it on John’s head before he could argue. “Frog,” he simply said. “Look at it! It’s a frog, John.” He smiled.

He looked so happy, so free. Clearly the chocolate had given him a special buzz, or Sherlock was tapping into his childhood joy because this was almost a different Sherlock entirely to the one John saw most of the time. Even during excitable case work there was a focus, a seriousness to it, an intensity. This was pure, unadulterated joy. He left John there in the frog hat, throwing his back on the pile before running on to another stall with beautifully wooden crafted items. “I think I will get this wine bottle holder for my brother! He’ll like that,” he said, but didn’t grab it. He had already moved on to the next stall.

John quickly put the frog hat down and smiled at the stall owner, chasing after his friend. “Sherlock…? Sherlock?… Sherlock?!” He called out, a few times before catch up and grabbing at Sherlock’s arm.

“What, John?” Sherlock asked, irritated at being thwarted in his adventures.

“Slow down,” John laughed. “You’re running at a thousand miles an hour. Slow down.”

Sherlock stopped and looked at John. The moment was frozen in time as the bustle of the markets around them continued on. John stood there looking at Sherlock, and Sherlock stood there looking at John, and they smiled at each other gently. John’s chest was filled with a warm, happy feeling. He really liked seeing Sherlock so content, but he most liked it when Sherlock stopped everything he was doing, and just looked at him like this. Like he was the only person in the world. He liked that it was just the two of them and Sherlock didn’t need anyone else. He trusted John. He needed John with him. It felt almost magical, their connection, and John couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it, really seen it before now. Just how strong his connection to Sherlock really was. 

Was this how relationships felt? For normal people who dated? Did they just want to stay in each other’s space and stare into each other’s faces like this? Was that what was happening here? Was John losing his mind? Was he having feelings for Sherlock? Or was he just enjoying having some quality time with his friend? Their friendship had always been intense. From the beginning. Was he just wanting to enjoy this for what it was right now? He didn’t really know. And he certainly wasn’t going to say anything. The last few days had been intense but on the other hand, it was lovely to open up a bit more about their lives, their hopes. Saying something now was a mistake. 

As time stood still, Sherlock reached across the distance between them and touched John’s hair. A featherlight touch with his finger and his thumb. John closed his eyes and felt a tingling run all through his body at the simple contact. Was Sherlock making a move? He flushed and his brow creased, suddenly confused by the movement. He opened his eyes again to look at Sherlock, assuming there would be an explanation.

“Fluff,” Sherlock said quietly. “You had some… ah... fluff in your hair… from the woollen hat,” he said with an awkward smile.

“Oh." That was the only sound John could squeeze out in the moment.

Sherlock smiled at him as he jiggled his fingers to remove the fluff from them and finally watched it float to the ground. When he looked back up his face creased in concern. “God, John, your lips are practically turning blue. You really should have worn some gloves and a scarf to warm up. I always tell you and you never....”

“I thought it would be fine,” he said, as his teeth chattered to punctuate the point. 

Sherlock smiled and shook his head. “Come on. How about we get something warm to drink? Warm you up from the insides?" He suggested.

John just nodded. His insides already felt considerably warm, he thought, after the gesture, after Sherlock had moved so close and touched his hair like that, but he didn’t have the ability to argue, or to tell him right now. So he followed, as usual, and let Sherlock lead the way.

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[sketchnskribbles]

Prompt: Forbidden Knowledge

[scealaiscoite]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ。 ﾟ。　 february prompts

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

¹⁾ a hotel dressing gown

²⁾ rough hands

³⁾ a packed suitcase

⁴⁾ spiderwebs

⁵⁾ wild raspberries

⁶⁾ an anonymous letter

⁷⁾ waist-high grass

⁸⁾ fogged-up car windows

⁹⁾ masala chai

¹⁰⁾ monday evening

¹¹⁾ yellow silk

¹²⁾ bail money

¹³⁾ smooth bourbon

¹⁴⁾ the smell of smoke at night

¹⁵⁾ cheap aftershave

¹⁶⁾ dried rose petals

¹⁷⁾ a persian carpet

¹⁸⁾ surrender

¹⁹⁾ left-handed

²⁰⁾ broken plates

²¹⁾ chamomile tea

²²⁾ a stolen pearl necklace

²³⁾ baby brother

²⁴⁾ a nightlight

²⁵⁾ three broken fingers

²⁶⁾ warm july nights

²⁷⁾ camphor

²⁸⁾ champagne in plastic party cups