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carefreecoffee · 18 days ago

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⋇⊶⊰Fluffbruary Day 22: Proposal w/Hitoshi Shinsou⊱⊷⋇

Word count: 1096,gender-neutral reader

It was a slow, lazy day. The sound of rain pattering against the window and filling the comfortable silence in the room. His eyes were fixed on the screen of the TV, not paying attention to anything but the movie. The hand wrapped around you, however, wasn’t so focused. He was running his fingers along your skin, tracing patterns and playing with your hand.

He felt your body cuddle into him deeper, chuckling lowly. He didn’t say anything, but his expression softened a bit. There was something… Different about today. He was acting gentler. More affectionate. He was almost too calm.

He shifted his body so that you were in his lap, both of his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing was steady and quiet, and his expression was almost… Melancholy.

Hitoshi looked down at you in his lap, gently rubbing his finger against your waist. The ring box was burning like a heavy weight in his pocket. He’d been planning it for weeks, but was this really the moment? Would it be right now? How would you even react?

Hitoshi’s eyes slowly roamed over you, taking in your form. You were so... perfect. Your eyes, your hair, your body, your hands, your everything. His eyes were clouded by an emotion he couldn’t completely understand as he pulled you closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breathing had picked up just slightly, his body tensing. It was the right time. He knew it was the right time.

He inhaled slowly, trying to calm his quickly beating heart before he spoke up. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper “y/n?”

As you turned to face him, he could feel his heart skip a beat, not knowing if it's from the look you’re giving him or the nervousness bubbling up in his stomach. “Hm?”

For a moment, his gaze locked onto your eyes. Soft, loving, slightly nervous. Then his eyes drifted down to your lips before returning to your eyes. He held back the words he was wanting to say back behind his teeth as he looked at you for another minute before speaking.

“Just… Thinking...”

"Haha well that's never good” you playfully chide

He tried to make a joke to hide his growing anxiety, but he couldn’t find it in him. He almost just blurted it out then and there, but he held back. He was too damn nervous. Why was he nervous? It’s not like you’d say no — Right? He was trying to ignore the voice in his head.

“Hey love” He moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, his thumb running gently over your skin. “There’s something I need to ask of you.”

“Yeah sure, what's up?”

He needed to say it. Get it out. No backing out now. He took another deep breath, his voice still quiet and soft. “Just…” He began, but the words got stuck in his throat. How the hell was he going to say it…? “…I love you. You know that, right?”

Your expression softens softly at the admission, “Aw yeah 'toshi of course I do. I love you too”

He smiled softly, his expression softening more. He exhaled softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. He brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss against your palm.

“I meant that I love you with every single fiber of my being. Every little piece of me. And I can’t imagine me without you in my life. I can’t…”

“Shin, where is this coming from...?” you chuckle nervously at his weird confession in the evening of your shared apartment.

His expression wavers between nervous and soft, but he still has a firm grip on your hand. He gently squeezes it, his eyes not leaving yours. “I just… I had a realization, that’s all…” He says, his voice still shaky. He knew he needed to just spit it out. Just get it out there. A small, nervous smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he softly repeated your name.

“Will you,” He began, his voice just loud enough to fill in the silence of the apartment. “-Will you marry me..?”

You watch as he pulls out the small round box, his pale hands obviously shaking. You look between him and it, eyes widening to saucers, "A-are you fuckin' with me Hitoshi...?”

His heart was pounding behind his ribcage, desperate to escape. He took another breath before he spoke, his voice now less shaky but still quiet. “I... I would never joke about this, sweetheart. I’m being completely serious.”

He opened the box carefully, revealing the ring within. It was a simple silver band, a small white glimmering stone at the center. Not too extravagant or expensive, but not cheap either. It was the perfect balance. He looked up at you again as his hand fidgeted with the box, waiting for your response.

Slack jawed, you look down at it before meeting his lilac eyes, nodding after finally reeling your conscious back in. “Yes 'Toshi!”

He wrapped his arms around you in an almost desperate manner, like he was afraid you were going to disappear if he let go. He buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a shaky exhale as a wave of emotion hit him. Relief, happiness, love, affection… so much of it all in one.

After pulling away, he shakily took the ring out of the box, nervously chuckled between the two of you before you cupped his face, bringing him into a feverish kiss. He smiled against your lips, his hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

After a few moments, he finally pulled away, his forehead resting gently against yours. He inhaled slowly, feeling as if he was on top of the world. He looked down at the ring on your finger before looking back up at you. “I’m so glad you said yes…”

You chuckle, wiping your stray tears away with your sweater sleeve “Whaddya think I was gonna say?”

“I had no doubt you’d say yes. Though I’m not gonna lie… I was kinda worried for a minute there.”

You grin stupidly, pulling him in for another kiss before pulling back, your foreheads still together.

His arms kept wrapped around you, one hand on the small of your back, the other gently holding the side of your face. His thumb rubbed gently across your cheek as he looked into your eyes. He’d never felt more in love than he did at this moment, with you in his arms.

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tj-dragonblade · 1 month ago

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[Fluffbruary Fic] Marriage of Inconvenience

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 2414 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2025, Selkie AU, small town meet cute, meet weird maybe, cafe owner Hob, Selkie Dream, more examination of the rules of selkie lore than I ever intended

Notes: 'Coat' and 'Accept' right next to each other immediately suggested this idea and then it evolved a bit along the way, as these things always do. Help, I only wanted a cute fluffy one-shot and now I have a whole 'nother universe to play in.

Summary: Hob is delighted to see the pretty stranger coming back to his cafe, but he has no idea how his life is about to change

On AO3

"Wait! Please!"

Hob turns at the call to see the beautiful dark-haired guy he'd noticed in the cafe earlier that day jogging down the road toward him, hand raised, clearly waving at him. He pauses in locking up the cafe's front door, silently thanking whoever's in charge of his luck today.

"Can I help you?" he asks, once the guy's close enough they can speak without yelling. He's got his friendliest smile on, willing to hear out whatever this guy has to say. He's just as pretty as Hob remembers, and he's not at all mad about seeing him back again.

"I left. I left something. Property. One of my belongings, when I was here earlier." Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Pretty draws himself up, catching his breath. "I had hoped. To reach you before closing, to see if it is still here."

"Of course, no problem." Hob un-flips the bolt that he hadn't yet pulled the key out of and unlocks the rest, pushes the door open and steps inside.

"Thank you." The guy follows him in, eyes darting to the table where he and his group had sat this afternoon. "My sibling assured me they had my coat when we left, but they did not."

Hob perks up. "Black coat, fur trim?"

"Yes." The guy turns his gaze on Hob, intense and hopeful and oh, but those are some devastatingly blue eyes. "You have seen it?"

"Yeah!" Hob smiles, delighted he can help this pretty stranger after all. "Another customer brought it up to the counter, said it'd been left. I put it up in our lost property in case the owner came back—and here you are! Let me grab it for you."

"No, wait—it would be better if—"

But Hob has already ducked through the door marked 'Employees Only', misses the note of alarm in the guy's voice. He opens the cupboard where lost property is stored and carefully pulls the lovely black coat with its silky fur trim off the hangar he'd put it on earlier, drapes it neatly over his arm and heads back to the front of the cafe. "Here we are!" he says merrily, holding out the coat to his guest.

The guy looks almost disappointed as he takes it with careful hands. "Thank you," he sighs, with relief that somehow also sounds like resignation, and Hob can't help frowning a little.

"Is everything okay? It's not ripped, is it? Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, if it got torn in our care I'll gladly pay to have it mended—"

"It is not. Damaged," the guy interrupts firmly. "It is in excellent condition and was clearly cared for while in your possession. For which I thank you. My husband."

What.

"S-sorry? Your what?" Surely Hob did not hear him correctly.

"My husband," the guy repeats, quite clearly. "I lost my coat. You have returned it to me. You are now my husband."

Hob bursts out laughing. "Right, okay, you're a selkie, then?" He's grown up in this quaint little coastal town, he's heard all the stories; obviously this guy is having him on, a little jest. Surely.

"Yes." The guy's answer, though, is completely serious.

It occurs to Hob he may inadvertently have gotten drawn into this poor fellow's break from reality. Either that or he is an extremely deadpan comedian with a terrible sense for when the joke's gone far enough.

"Selkies aren't real, mate," Hob says carefully, not unkindly, confident in the obvious truth of the words no matter what tales his gran used to tell.

With a sigh, the guy puts on the coat that Hob had returned to him and abruptly, instead of a beautiful pale-skinned dark-haired man, there is a pitch-black seal with shockingly blue eyes on the floor in the middle of Hob's cafe. He starts backwards, not believing what he is very definitely seeing.

The seal shimmies, twists, and then the pretty stranger is standing before him again, swirling the coat back off his shoulders.

"Holy fuck." Hob steps, stumbles backward, sits heavily on one of the stools at the counter. "Okay. Okay, give me. Just a tic." He blinks, stares at the guy, his brain replaying the transformation he'd undeniably witnessed. "You're. Really a selkie. Okay."

"Yes. And now, you are my husband."

"But that's ridiculous! There's no way anyone can possibly think my giving you back your coat constitutes a legally binding marriage!"

"Not on land, perhaps. It is a long-standing tradition among my people."

"But…why? I mean. Surely you don't want to be married to me, to be married to any stranger simply because they were kind enough to return what's yours? How is that any better than being bound to someone who steals your skin?"

"Nevertheless. It is the tradition."

"It's not my tradition!" Hob is feeling more than a little panicked here. Certainly the guy is very pretty; certainly Hob had been of half a mind to ask for his number if the opportunity presented itself but marriage is a very far cry beyond any of that.

What the hell. Seriously.

"Generally. It is considered. Far preferable, to be married to the human who would freely return your skin than the one who would steal it and lock it away." The guy has primly perched himself two stools down the row, leaving a single stool between them.

Considerate, Hob supposes, not to crowd him while he's having his worldview rearranged. Points in Mr. Selkie's favor.

"That makes sense, I get that," Hob says at last, "but why does it have to be marriage at all? Is it strictly tradition, or is there some kind of magical binding going on when humans get hold of your coat?"

"It is. Both, to some degree. You touched my coat, held it, with intent toward me. That leaves a signature, a link between us. In losing something so integral to my existence, I incur a debt to the one who would willingly return it to me. Even without the traditional label of 'marriage', I am now bonded to you in some degree.

"I'm sorry, but that sounds like a shite arrangement for you."

"Yes. It could be."

"So…do I get any say in the matter? Can I release you from the obligation or something? Or. Or is there maybe. Some other way to honor the 'debt' than marrying me?"

"The marriage—the bond—it occurred when you offered my coat and I accepted it back. It is the traditional way. It is already done. I apologize for being so objectionable a spouse."

"Objectionable—I don't know you!" Hob can't keep his voice from rising, feeling just a little hysterical by this point. "And you don't know me! Fuck sake, you—I don't even know your name! And you're just gonna move into my little cottage on the beach with me so we can live happily ever after?!"

"Ideally, yes." He blinks. "My name is Dream."

That's. Okay. What. Hob shakes his head, equilibrium lost. "Has this ever worked out for any selkie you know?!"

"In the old stories? Sometimes. I am the only modern selkie I know who has been foolish enough to be tricked into leaving my coat behind." There is bitterness in his voice now and god help him, Hob's starting to feel a bit of sympathy for the guy.

"Seems a very cruel prank for a sibling to play," he offers. "And you're extremely calm about this whole oops-forced-marriage thing. Tradition be damned for just a second; does it not upset you even a little?"

The selkie—whose name is Dream, apparently—looks at him with those soulful blue eyes, contemplating. "Truthfully, I welcome the promise of escaping my parents' household. Even in so outdated and risk-prone a way as this. They would at least recognize the validity of such a claim—" He straightens abruptly, eyes widening. "…oh. Oh. Perhaps. My sibling. It is perhaps not a prank, after all."

Hob cannot for the life of him keep up with this conversation. "Wait. Wait. Escaping your parents? How old are you?" He looks a young thirty-something, certainly, but what the hell does Hob know about actual selkie physiology, really?

"Well past the age of majority, in my culture and yours. My parents are very traditional in most respects. Their children remain part of their household short of marrying out. My sibling, who found their way to a marriage some time ago, appears to have orchestrated one for me, as I have no prospects at home."

"So, what, your sibling lied about your coat and left it here so you'd get stuck with whoever picked it up?"

"I am beginning to think so, yes."

"Bit daft a way to go about it?"

"Ours is…a complicated relationship."

Hob casts a disbelieving glance at Dream; he can't help it. "What if you'd wound up bound to some creep?"

"I have no guarantee that you are not, as you say, a creep."

"What? No! I'm not, I promise! And again, why would you accept being married when that's the case?!"

"The bond exists regardless, whatever sort of person you may be." Dream shakes his head, black hair fluffing with the motion and despite everything, Hob is still deeply struck by how pretty he is.

"You are dead serious about all of this, aren't you," Hob says, resignation creeping into his tone.

"It is tradition." Dream gazes at him, assessing. "But I would choose to trust the circumstances of my sibling's meddling, in any case." He blinks at Hob, a slow, considering look. "If my husband will have me."

"Hob. My name is Hob Gadling. Short for Robert." Hob can hardly believe he's even thinking about agreeing to this madness, and yet. Here he is. "Sooo, what happens to you if I reject this marriage? You go home in disgrace? You wander the human world abandoned and alone? You die because I broke the bond?"

"The bond will not break simply for being rejected." Dream looks away. "If you spurn me, I will leave, but I will always feel the draw back to you. I would face ridicule and disdain, should I return home, for allowing my coat out of my possession and failing to honor the bond formed by its return. I am already deemed a misfit; such disgrace would only confirm it for those who care to pass judgment."

"Like your parents."

"Yes." He looks resigned to the misery.

Hob's heart thumps, decision made. And okay, yes, maybe he is being a little bit stupid about this, a little too-much-too-fast like usual, but he can't just send Dream away to all that. "Can I perhaps offer a compromise, then."

Dream tilts his head, attention on Hob, listening.

"How about. We go on a date. Can we try a date first?"

"A date."

"Yeah. Y'know. Two interested people meet up, have a meal, do an activity. Learn more about each other, see if they click?"

"I am. Familiar with the concept, yes."

Oh, but that dry snark is so attractive to Hob. He forces his brain to stay on subject. "I'll even—my cottage has a guest room; you can stay there unless you'd rather book a room down the street. I'm willing to get to know you and see how it goes, okay?"

Dream blinks at him, primly flabbergasted, and Hob is delighted to have finally gotten the upper hand in this conversation. Heaven help him, he's starting to like this weird selkie man already.

"Look. You've got circumstances you want to escape. You accidentally got bound to me. Doesn’t have to be a traditional marriage if it's not agreeable to us both. Been thinking about taking on a housemate, anyway. You'll suit. Don't need you to keep house for me or any of that rubbish from the stories; I'm a full grown man who's been looking after himself for years. We'll share chores. You can explore your options for a life on land. Find a job, or something, if you like."

"And what of the bond already between us?"

Hob shrugs. "We can leave romantic possibilities open, if you want to. Like I said—let's try a date. Let's learn a bit about each other. We'll learn plenty living under the same roof already, I'd wager. If romance doesn't feel right, we'll focus on building a friendship. But either way, I'm not going to leave you homeless and rejected and abandoned on land. Let's start from as reasonable a place as the situation allows and see what happens." He offers a smile, warm and sincere. "What do you say?"

Dream is still watching him, intent and contemplative; after a moment, he inclines his head with gracious old-school formality. "I. Will. Accept your compromise, Hob Gadling."

Oh, his full name in that voice, that is dangerous. Hob is still very much interested in dating the guy; he's pretty, he is thus far not a complete arse, and weird as this conversation is it's given Hob a little glimpse of who Dream is as a person and he'd like to learn more.

Which he will have ample opportunity to do, it seems.

"Wonderful!" Hob beams. "I was heading to the shops after locking up here; you're welcome to join me."

"I shall," Dream decides, with the tiniest hint of a smile, and that's it—Hob is officially smitten.

God, but Jo is gonna roast his arse to kingdom come when she finds out about all of this.

Grocery shopping seems entirely too mundane a task to contemplate after the last several minutes but his refrigerator at home is not going to magically restock itself, is it.

He doesn't think selkies have that kind of magic, either.

He isn't going to ask.

He tries very hard to ignore the little voice in his head telling him he's being incredibly stupid. It's not like he doesn't know. Marriage, then cohabitation, then getting better acquainted? That's very much coming at the whole thing backwards.

That other little voice in his head, though, the one that tends to speak for his gut instincts? That one says he's made the right call, backwards or not, as he strolls down the street toward town center with his new selkie husband-slash-housemate trailing beside him and sees the contented little smile still wreathing those rosebud lips.

He hasn't gotten where he is in life by listening to the first voice over the second.

He's not about to start now.

= Started: 2/8/25 Drafted: 2/11/25 Posted: 2/12/25

This is where I stipulate that I don't know how official-traditional the whole 'giving a selkie back their coat means you're married' thing is. I've run across it a few times but usually in like. Tumblr posts and amateur fiction more than compendiums of mythical creatures or collections of folklore and the like. Regardless, it suits my purposes here.

#TJs Fics #Fluffbruary 2025 #TJs Fluffbruary #Sandman #Dreamling #wip: sdhsv

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topsyturvy-turtely · 23 days ago

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Fluffbruary with turtely

day 23

(not as if i have been an active participant lol but yk bcs i can)

prompts: attraction | mutter | opera by @fluffbruary <3

including this prompt as well:

fandom: bbc sherlock, pairing: sherlock x john, rating: teen

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

"Ugh!" John threw his head back, when they stepped out of the concert hall, to walk into the break. "Why did you need me to join you watching a freaking opera again?!"

"John," Molly bumped his shoulder with hers. She smiled, but it was a pained expression. "You know why," she muttered.

John did and immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry, Molly. Thanks for the invitation."

Her last relationship hadn't worked out, and so she had two tickets for the Carmen opera but only herself to go with. In the end John had offered to go with her. He hadn't realized how much he hated operas.

"Come. I'll buy you a cocktail."

"John- I have to work tomo-"

"Don't care. This is happening. I- we both need this."

John pulled her towards the bar by her hand.

"What do you want?" John turned to her, and smiled. Molly truly looked gorgeous tonight. She wore a floor-length, black dress; one shoulder covered, the other one not. It had a long slit up her leg. John wasn't used to her showing that much skin. He thought this with admiration for her beauty, but not attraction. Still, he ought to tell her.

"You look beautiful. Tim was an idiot to let you down. You deserve much better."

Molly smiled, the pain still there but less persistent. "I know." A second of understanding silence, holding their gaze. "A mojito sounds perfect right now."

"Right. Have any recommendations for an old fashioned man like me who wants to try something new?"

Molly hooked her arm into his and grinned, "B52, for sure."

John moved his head back, "Why do I have the feeling you just recommended something dangerous?"

Molly waved her hand, "Oh, it's delicious. And fun."

John was intrigued for sure.

"Alright, here we go. Oh sorry, gonna need this." John freed himself from Molly with an apologetic look. She just continued grinning and waved at him as he pushed through a few people to get in line for the bar.

TO BE CONTINUED! (i swear this will be johnlock but rn i need to sleep it is far past my bedtime (because adults apparently go to bed early🙄) and well that's it. i just really wanted to post this so i am more committed to continuing)

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

i want to gift this to @totallysilvergirl because she is awesome and her fics are pure perfection and her replies to my silly comments are always wholesome and sweet <3 oh and actually mostly because she made me want to write again with Solace and Joy on ao3 and motivated me to write with her reply to my comment as well. thanks silver. you will always have a place in my heart (ugh cheesy!) (what! i am!)

tags under the cut :)

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr

#turtely writes #fluffbruary with turtely #fluffbruary 2025 #fluffbruary #johnlock fic #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #molly and john are so cute as friends fight me

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stellacartography · 9 days ago

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Another double post in the tardiest @fluffbruary tale.

Day 7 Hand | Curls | Pattern

Greg peeked around the kitchen doorway at the pair on the sofa. John had rolled beneath Sherlock. One hand was threading through Sherlock’s curls and the other was having surprising success in opening the tiny buttons on Sherlock’s shirt. Greg watched for a moment, impressed at the dexterity. Surgeon's hands, his mind offered.

Greg pulled his head out of the doorway and leant on the back of a chair, trying to tease out the tangle of emotion in his chest. It wasn't that he was jealous of them, per se. He wasn't particularly drawn to either John or Sherlock, but it would be nice, a small, sad part of his mind offered, to have someone to touch like that, someone who would touch him the same way.

There wasn't anyone in his life at the moment. Dating was a nightmare. He couldn't even imagine asking a friend for a hug. He wasn't close enough to any family.

When he peeked out at the sitting room again, the two on the sofa had flipped. Sherlock’s long fingers were delving determinedly into the back of John's trousers. John was arching into the touch and snogging Sherlock senseless.

Greg spun back around. Kitchen door it was, then. Squeaky latch be damned. The sounds coming from the sitting room would have to be cover enough.

He straightened his back and caught sight of the open cupboard door where he'd replaced his mug. He must have neglected to close it when he rushed off to the toilet.

"Sherlock, oh!"

Greg paused, hand on the cupboard door knob and his eyes rolled up. At the edge of his vision he spotted the sleek lines of a handsome bottle filled with amber liquid. He didn't wait beyond Sherlock’s answering pleas to grab it by the neck and abscond with his plunder.

The kitchen door to the landing squeaked awfully but he made quick work of unlatching it and closing it behind him. He could still hear fragments of names and murmured words as he strode across the landing.

He tightened his grip on the bottle and crept down the stairs.

Day 8 Train | Zenith | Road

Greg reached the road without disturbing Mrs Hudson and only then took a good look at his prize. The bottle was open, but not obviously so. It was mostly full of what appeared to be a nice, small-batch whisky from a distillery in Trenton. A gift from a client, most likely.

He considered his next move. His car was nearby. He could drive the bottle home, have a drink, and take himself to bed. Drinking alone in his current mood felt a bit dangerous, though.

It was still early evening. He opted to drive back to work and see if anyone were around to share a drink with. If he could find a friendly face to commiserate with, they could share a drop and then head home.

By the time he parked, most of his colleagues had left, the evening shift had begun, and Greg himself was questioning the intelligence of bringing a stolen bottle of liquor into an office of law enforcement. Bad idea then

He settled back in his seat and scrolled through his contacts in his phone. Of all the names that scrolled by, not one would understand why stealing a bottle of whisky from Sherlock and John after convincing them to admit their feelings for one another was... not funny exactly but a certain flavour of justice, perhaps? No one except... Oh.

He tapped a name and hit call.

"Hello, Detective Inspector."

"Evening Anthea. Sorry to trouble you. Is Mycroft in?"

"Mr. Holmes has retired to his office at the Diogenes. He has had a rather trying day."

"That makes two of us. Anything urgent I'd be interrupting if I popped by?"

"Not at all. In fact, I rather wish you would interrupt. He's too accommodating by far today. He would do well to let everyone stew in their own juices for a bit."

"That so?" Greg grinned. "I'll see if I can derail the train of government for the evening then. No promises, mind. If he tosses me out on my ear, you're on your own."

"Oh, I rather doubt that will be a problem, Detective Inspector. I shall call ahead and alert the staff to your arrival. Good evening."

Greg dug out an old gift bag from the back seat of his car to carry the bottle in. He'd be a bit self-conscious carrying an opened bottle into a posh place like the Diogenes. He'd met Mycroft there once or twice and knew the drill, but the sepulchral quiet of the place made him feel watched as he walked through the mute horde of funereal denizens who frequented the club.

He questioned his decision all the way to Mycroft's door. It was only when he was admitted and saw Mycroft's face that his confidence returned. This man, he concluded, needs a drink as much as I do.

First | Previous | Next

#fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2025 #mystrade #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade

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buffaluff · 3 days ago

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🌈 i made a @bucktommyfluffebruary rainbow! 🌈

i just really wanted to see my drawings for the month all together and thought you might enjoy it as well 💖 there’s 30 in total and the first time i’ve ever completed a fandom project of this magnitude, i’m very proud. thank you to everyone for all of your support as always!!! 💖🦬

#911 abc #911 fanart #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #sorry for the long post!#oh no i’m gonna make a 9 1 1 tag now aren’t i #buff art #bucktommy fluffebruary #fluffbruary 2025 #kinkley supremacy

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lisbeth-kk · 1 month ago

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As proposed by @fluffbruary, I have made a Valentine's rec list. Now that I've read through it, It seems to have become more of a love letter...

First of all, I want to thank someone special in the Sherlock fandom - the remarkably talented podficcer extraordinaire @podfixx There isn't a day that goes by without that comforting voice weaving its way to my heart and core. Picking a favourite is almost impossible, because every single one is a gem. But, there is one I will promote a little extra on this romantic day.

The Wedding Garments by cwb

Summary: This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

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There are authors and fics out there that get less attention than they deserve. This story is just one example of that. It's utterly sweet and there's a dog! Sherlock's dog. Please, give it some love!

Late Nigh Emergency by consult_this_prick

Summary: Sherlock shows up late one night with his sick dog at the doors of John's veterinarian clinic.

There is a collection on AO3 I want to direct your attention to. It's called Johnlock on Holiday in FTH 2024 The title says it all, really. Perhaps you'll find some holiday tips.

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Of course, you don't won't to miss anything the giants of this fandom has written. (I'm only going to name a few of them)

Kaleidoscope by @totallysilvergirl

The Last Envoy by @calaisreno

John Watson's Big Adventure by @mydogwatson

The Wisteria Tree by @silentauroriamthereal

A Quiet Life by @discordantwords

The Silence Between the Notes by @jbaillier

Lost in a Good Book by @khorazir

To Stand Before the Storm by @arwamachine

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Honourable mentions of writers that never dissapoint:

A Strange Encounter by @holmesianlove

Rache (German for Revenge) by @blogstandbygo

By the Bi by @keirgreeneyes

When the Worst Parts Begins by @thalialunacy

Without Complexities or Pride by @raina-at

White Pony Tattoo by @meetinginsamarra

The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by @chriscalledmesweetie

Kinesis by @stellacartography

An Experiment in Ethanol by @the-reading-lemon

Like a Man by @hubblegleeflower

The Gilded Cage by @the-pen-pot

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It wont't do to forget the fantastic artists this fandom is so lucky to be blessed with. Go visit their blog to see their portfolio.

@petite-madame @bluebellofbakerstreet @helloliriels @justanobsessedpan @gooolabatooo @ceruleanmindpalace @nitaelwyart @a-victorian-girl @starrosea

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And last, but certainly not least, the fandom's librarian, the keeper of lists for every possible and impossible prompt, AU, trope, etc - Steph @inevitably-johnlocked

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We have a saying where I live: no one mentioned, no one forgotten, and I am certain that I have forgotten many amazing people, but not mentioning anyone would undermine the task completely, so there's that. It is what it is...

Much love to you all!

#fluffbruary 2025 #sherlock fandom #valentine's day #rec lists #fandom love #thanks for reblogging!

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bluebellofbakerstreet · 1 month ago

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"Come off it, Holmes. You make it sound as though you could deduce what I had for breakfast, what color underwear I've got on and my relationship with my mother just by looking at me!"

"Well, actually . . ."

Anderson may not be very observant, but can you spot the differences between these two pictures? There are eight.

@fluffbruary day 2. Prompts were jest, ocean and a picture of a pub.

#myart #bbc sherlock #spot the difference #pub night with the yarders #fluffbruary 2025 #fluffbruary

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graymatters · 2 months ago

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Ad Infinitum

28 days of Drarry Drabbles for @fluffbruary. Day 1 prompt: dark. Thanks @andithiel for the beta.

Draco knows it’s bad this time. It’s the crunch when Harry lands, broom splintered to pieces. Harry smiles at him, beaming, despite his fractured bones, despite dark maroon staining his robes. They’re experts at despite.

Draco kneels, brushes curls from Harry’s forehead, and magic flows from his fingertips, stitching Harry’s wounds, leaving threads of Draco in its wake.

How much of Draco lives between Harry’s cells? Within them?

“Got the Snitch.” Devastating, that grin.

“Harry, what am I going to do with you?” But Draco smiles, too, because he’ll do exactly this, ad infinitum. The fussing, the mending, everything after.

AO3

#drarry #drarry drabble #fluffbruary 2025

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fluffbruary · 3 months ago

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Fluffbruary approaches!

We're finalizing our prompt list for Fluffbruary this week and will be posting it on 1/1/25 (2025 already??? how did that happen?).

As always, Fluffbruary will be open to all - all fandoms, all ships are welcome! Choose one (or more!) of the daily prompts (or from a handful of alternate prompts) and create some fluffy goodness. Whether you do some prompts, or all, or just one--increasing the fluff quotient in the world is surely a good thing.

And, if we haven't said so before - it doesn't have to be fic! You can draw! Paint! Make moodboards or photo manips! Fluff comes in all mediums! Let your creativity run wild :)

The prompt list drops in seven days. On your marks ...

#fluffbruary 2025 #on your marks #list drops 1/1

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carefreecoffee · 17 days ago

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·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙Fluffbruary Day 26: Childhood friends to lovers w/ Keigo Takami*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

Word count: 1146,Gender neutral reader

Growing up with Keigo was...hectic to say the least. But being his friend started out actually pretty nice. Even though he was always busy with the commission, he never stopped seeking time out in order to see you again; his closest friend.

Over the years, this slowly turned into playful teasing, mixed in with the occasional flirty remark. It was like a game to him, to see who would crack first. He could always count on you blushing at the sound of his teasing or a compliment. As you two reached your 20’s, he would make dirty jokes and then laugh it off as if it was just some lighthearted fun, but deep down there was something more he couldn't admit to.

He would have to snap out of it when you would notice and ask him in playful annoyance, "You're staring. Is there something on my face?" He would respond with a smirk.

"Just admiring the view." He would tease as he continued to stare.

Sometimes he would test how far he could go with his teasing. A hand on your thigh when you're sitting next to each other, playing with your hair, or a lingering touch when he was walking behind you. He was being completely obvious without actually admitting his feelings.

He got a sense of satisfaction seeing you get nervous or flustered around him. It was a feeling he had become addicted to, and something that he just couldn't get enough of.

"You're so easy to tease. It's hilarious." He would make it a habit of teasing you as much as possible, trying to find new ways to fluster you, as his feelings slowly started to consume him. Deep down, he realized he wanted to take things to the next level, but for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to confess his feelings. Perhaps he was a coward.

It happened suddenly. He was acting up more than usual, and you kept giving him those reactions that he loved so much.

"You know, I've been thinking about something."

He said out of nowhere, changing the subject from whatever conversation you were having previously. His expression becomes more serious, but his golden eyes staring right into yours.

“Hm?” You glance at him, pausing your previous thoughts.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

"I've been thinking about us, and..." He paused, as if he was trying to find the right words to say. This was it, he had to do it now, or he would never muster the courage to say it again. His heart was pounding so loud he felt like he was going to go deaf. His golden eyes never left your own

"How long have we known each other now?"

You chuckle incredulously “What? How long? Um I don't know....12 years now?”

He smiled faintly at the response, nodding. "Yeah, twelve. Almost thirteen. A long time."

He had to say it, now or never.

"You want to know something I've been thinking about for a while now?" He leaned his hand against the wall next to your head, leaning on it as he would with his usual flirting.

"You." He bluntly responded with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for his cockiness. “Keigo if this is another tease-”

"This isn't a tease." He said seriously,He's never been this serious before.

Wait. What. “W-what?”

"You heard me. This isn't a joke." He leaned back slightly, giving you space as his hand remained on the wall. "I'm being serious right now."

your jaw goes slack, taking in his tone. ‘Holy shit you're serious”

He chuckled softly at your reaction, but it wasn't a teasing chuckle, it was more amused. "Yes, I am." He murmured, studying you intently. He was taking in every last detail as if trying to memorize every feature on your face.

“I KNEW IT”

"You... knew?" He sounded surprised, his smirk shifting into a more curious expression.

"Yeah duh! At first, I thought you were just being a huge weirdo like always but when you didn't stop- I was right!” He let out a small huff of amusement, "And here I thought I was being subtle."

"Well... now what?”

He paused, his expression shifting to a more serious one again, still looking at you intensely as his hand dropped from your chin to the side of your neck, his fingers gently tracing soft circles on your skin. "Well... There's something I want to do... something I've wanted to do for a long time. I just didn't have the balls to do it."

You grin, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I like you too dummy”

Hearing those words from you had him stunned, the butterflies in his stomach going nuts.

"You... really?" He sounded almost dumbfounded at your confession, like he didn't believe that this was reality. He kept on staring at you intensely, as if he was studying your face for any sign of a lie.

“Mhm, I do”

He had to admit, he was surprised that you confessed first. He had always been seen as more of the player type, yet here you were confessing how you felt. After a few seconds of just staring at one another, he finally snapped out of it and smirked at you.

"I'm going to kiss you now."

Not giving you a chance to respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips onto yours. His hand around your neck tightened ever so slightly, pressing you closer against his body. The kiss was hungry and eager, as if he had been waiting for this moment for years.

When the kiss was broken, he rested his forehead on yours, his breathing ragged. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were half-lidded as he stared at you with an intense look.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that." He muttered in a hushed tone.

“Haha i-i can tell” you catch your breath, pulling back slightly. “But you aren't getting another till I get a long-awaited date”

His expression turned into a playful smirk, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "Is that so? So the only way I can kiss you again is if I take you out on a date, huh?"

“Yup”

He chuckled at your blunt response. "Alright, alright. I'll take you out on a date." He smirked at you, running his fingers through your hair gently.

"But I get to choose the place." He added on, his smirk becoming more cocky.

“Okay okayyy”

"Good." He hummed, grabbing your hand to his chest, putting it over his heart so you could feel the fast-paced beat. “Do you feel that? That's called 10+ years of yearning, babe”

All you could do is slap his chest playfully, goofy grins breaking out on your faces like cracks during an earthquake.

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tj-dragonblade · 30 days ago

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[Fluffbruary FIC] You'll Know You're Defenseless

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 1067 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2025, Turbo Lover AU, Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, floriography, pining, willful failure to communicate

Notes: Another fluff entry for Turbo Lover, though it's a little bittersweet. Title of course from the Judas Priest song that I named the series after.

Summary: Mechanic Hob might. Possibly. Be pining. Just a little bit.

On AO3

There's a florist he passes on his way home from the garage.

Hob slows his stride as he draws even, today.

He is no stranger to looking over the window displays as he walks by, seeing what's new, snapping pics to look up later and cross-reference to flower language websites. Floriography is fascinating, okay, and also. He is not immune to daydreaming about crafting a custom bouquet to give Dream. Calla lilies for his beauty. Ranunculus; 'I'm dazzled by your charms'. Pink carnations; 'I'll never forget you'. Red camellias to say 'You're a flame in my heart'. Some fern fronds for sincerity and fascination. Blue orchids for enchantment, or maybe lavender roses—those would probably coordinate with the reds of the bouquet better. Maybe, if he's really daring, some sunny yellow jonquils for the old-fashioned sentiment 'I desire a return of affections'.

Because yeah. He really does, god help him.

Not that he can just say so.

He could send a bouquet anonymously, of course, from a secret admirer. But maybe that wouldn't mean anything to Dream, who has plenty of money and probably dozens of prospects for romance. Some anonymous bouquet would not impress him, would probably just wind up on a shelf somewhere, unremarked until it wilts, thrown out without another thought—meaningless to Dream.

Even as he thinks it, though, Hob is remembering the way Dream warms toward the smallest signs of affection, the way he blooms when Hob lavishes him with endearments, and he knows it's more likely Dream would obsess over such a bouquet. He would study it, disbelieving of its sincerity, researching the blooms to look for hidden meaning, finding only the message that Hob had meant to send and fixating on the idea that a stranger might feel such things about him but lack the courage to approach him directly.

So, Hob could maybe send a small bouquet. If he saved up a few pounds.

But he doesn't want to send anything anonymously, is the problem. One, there's also the slim chance it might actually set off alarm bells, make Dream worry about stalkers and strangers watching him. Hob doesn't want to accidentally trigger that kind of anxiety. But two, what he really wants…well. He wants to lavish gifts on Dream the way he thinks Dream deserves, wants to send him the biggest bouquet of compliments and swooning sentiment and declarations of intent; he wants to send roses, dozens upon dozens of ruby-red blooms proclaiming his love so loudly that Dream cannot help but see it, know it, feel it.

He definitely doesn't have that kind of money though. He's priced the sort of arrangements he dreams about and they're significantly beyond his modest budget.

And for all that he can see Dream craves affection, he's still…

See.

Dream is so, so very far out of his league. Romantically speaking. Dream's never said or done anything that indicates Hob could be anything more than this casual hookup and hangout arrangement that they've got going on. He gives Hob a taste of finer things and Hob gives him the best sex he could ever want, and they're both happy. It's perfect. It's amicable. It's tidy and delicious and uncomplicated except that Hob and his stupid helpless heart have always got to go falling farther than they ever should, getting attached and invested and—

Fucking—

Love. He's in love with Dream, he can admit it to himself. And it doesn't matter that it'll never be the storybook romance he'd like it to be. It truly doesn't. He can be happy with what he's got, happy being Dream's boy-toy, his favorite bit of rough, his arm- and eye-candy. That's their reality. He can be happy meeting whatever needs Dream will let him; it's better than not having Dream in his life at all. He can yearn all he likes but he can't expect someone as…as everything as Dream would ever truly consider a long-term life with Hob as his partner.

But oh, the florist's shop is calling him today. And maybe…maybe, if he's careful, he can give Dream a tiny, fleeting gift without giving himself away.

Hob is waiting at the curb when Dream pulls up outside his flat a couple hours later, the Porsche jerking to a stop in a way that makes Hob wince. He hides his grimace in a welcoming smile; Dream tries his best to follow Hob's advice about operating the manual transmission but ultimately he'd rather just let Hob drive when they're together.

Dream climbs gracefully out of the idling car and Hob stops him as he crosses in front of it, holding up the single red rose he'd picked out at the florist's with its little plastic tube of water and nutrients snug on the cut end.

"For you," he says, lightly, casually, presenting it with a showman's flourish.

"For me?" Dream sounds delighted, takes it delicately, but there is a little crease in his forehead that Hob can't quite interpret.

"Customer Appreciation Day at the shop," he says quickly, easily. "Handed 'em out to everyone who came in. But this little guy was left all alone when we closed up so I thought to myself, y'know, I'll just. Take it for Dream." He grins, his most charming, rakish grin. "So yes, for you. A small token of affection from your favorite bit of rough." He winks.

A little white lie and a little red rose. He's fucked if Dream ever comes to the shop and talks to Matthew and mentions this customer appreciation day Hob's just made up.

Odds are extremely low that would ever happen. But still.

Dream smiles, his mouth tilting up and his eyelashes sweeping down in that way that makes Hob's stomach swoop. "I thank you for thinking of me, Hob Gadling. It is indeed lovely." He touches Hob's arm briefly and continues on to the passenger side of the Porsche.

Hob follows suit, rounding the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel and adjusting the seat, flicking on the signal to pull back out into traffic. There's excitement fizzing in his blood at the message he's just sent, satisfaction at successfully flying it under Dream's radar.

He glances over at Dream as he drives, sees the soft smile on his lips as he buries his nose in the velvety red petals, and Hob's heart thumps happily in his chest.

= Started: 2/15/25 Drafted: 2/16/25 Posted: 2/17/25

Previously in the series, in case AO3 is down: Customer Service With Every Nerve Alive Loyalty Rewards Program Shift to Overdrive Love Machines in Harmony Without Warning Something's Dawning (Listen)

#Fluffbruary 2025 #TJs Fluffbruary #TJs Fics #Sandman #Dreamling #wip: turbo lover

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