\\//

“Did you bring your own skates?” Shocked, Tsukasa gazed at the beautiful silhouette of the man standing behind the Japanese-styled round window highlighted by the power of the moon.

“N-no… I didn’t intend to…”

“What’s your shoe size? You primarily have ice-dancing skates, right? You have a specific brand? Riedell?”

“I… have size 29. Riedell is fine.”

“Good. Wait here.”

Jun stepped out from the apartment leaving Tsukasa dumbfounded. When did he say yes to Jun?

He brought an unopened box of skating shoes when he came back plus an extra pair of unused black spandex gloves.

“I noticed that you used Riedell when you were competing.”

Huh?

“Mr. Yodaka, I don’t remember saying I’d join you on the rink.”

“Schinichiro always does. Assuming that you’d bring me there right now?”

”I will… but…”

“Take this as a lesson. Your pupil is having difficulty with triple lutzes and flips. Am I right?”

“Yeah… but…”

“I don’t care about your student. Sure, she could still grow as an athlete. I admit. But I do care about my opponent’s performance.”

“And who’s your opponent?”

“We will find out later.”

Read more on AO3.

(The one where Sherlock and John adopt a black cat.)

After popular demand, I caved in and started uploading my tumblr fluffbruary ficlets (which are actually mini-chapters of one continuing storyline) onto my AO3.

Since it's slow and tedious work, I will probably only be posting one per day. 😁(Sort of like a FluffMarch)

Fluffbruary day 28 + 1: EPILOGUE

When Sherlock and John woke up in Sherlock’s childhood bedroom (after a rather short night’s sleep), it didn’t take long before they were all over each other again.

John discovered this time that if he focused his attention entirely on Sherlock, pleasuring him was a bit like what he imagined it would be like to conduct an orchestra: if you correctly concentrated alternately on all the separate parts, he could elicit a wonderful symphony of sounds from his lover’s beautiful throat.

As much as he loved Sherlock being super clever and razor-sharp in his analyses, John was now absolutely delighting in seeing this new side of him where he was completely incoherent and slightly desperate.

After that, John was so close that Sherlock hardly needed to do anything to make him come, too.

They snoozed in bed for another half hour in the afterglow, sprawled on top of each other, with mad grins on their faces.

“Listen. My mother must not know,” Sherlock said, suddenly grave. “She will be absolutely insufferable if she deduces what we’ve been up to.”

“Alright. I’ll just pretend I find you completely uninteresting and commonplace, like I used to,” John jested.

Sherlock shut him up with a kiss.

When they were dressed and ready to go downstairs, John thought they were being very cool and suave about it. No one would be able to tell that they were both walking around on cloud nine. They had definitely gotten it out of their system with that last round, he thought.

Sherlock was back to his usual aloof self, looking all sharp and handsome and ready to conquer the world.

But it soon turned out, they had underestimated both their current state and Mrs Holmes’s prowess.

“Good morning! You seem even more lovey-dovey than last night,” she said, as she poured them cups of tea. Then, to her husband, who was still reading his newspaper, “Look at these two, blushing like schoolboys. Don’t they look positively radiant?”

“Yes, lovely. Good morning, chaps.”

It was mere minutes before she realised her mistake, over eggs and sausages.

“Oh Siger, don’t you see!” she exclaimed to her husband. “I made them sleep together! They weren’t actually sharing a bedroom yet! I encouraged sex under this roof! What will Mrs Duckworth say when I tell her!”

“Surely you only accelerated the inevitable,” Mr Holmes smirked, only vaguely interested in the whole affair.

“Surely you’re not going to tell anyone,” Sherlock said in alarm.

“Oh you’re wrong. This is hilarious! I’m going to tell the whole village!”

Thanks for reading!

The alternate prompts were: sleep / verdant / orchestra / clever / reluctant. Rather than using all of them, I decided to use just three (again) this time to write a funny epilogue that came to me after finishing nr.28 and imagining what would happen the morning after.

Read all my @fluffbruary ficlets under the fluffbruary tag on my tumblr. (They will probably be displayed in reverse order. Please do start at the beginning if you want to read them all, as they follow each other chronologically!)

The INFINIFLUFF list is HERE!!

That's right — February is over, but the fluff goes on. We've adopted the 14th of every month into Fluffbruary to spread the fluff around the year.

We have a little theme going ... and it's wide open for seeding, watering, and harvesting fluff of all kinds.

All fandoms, and all ships or no ships--wherever there's loving-kindness and a bit of respite there is fluff! Tag @fluffbruary so we can reblog you, and reblog @fluffbruary to seed the fluff to the four tumblr winds.

March 14 : rain | vines | water

April 14 : ferns | branch | bloom

Chapter 1: Stuck

Characters: Elijah Mikaelson, Inadu (The Hollow)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Painting, Pranks

Summary: Elijah is bored and picks up a new hobby. Inadu is just bored

Written for @fluffbruary Day 28: Painting

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Elijah had found the paints during one of his rounds through the house, hidden away in Niklaus’ old room. While he was content to play the piano or read from his favorite volumes, even he liked a bit of variety and decided to pick up the hobby.

Inadu had spent her time stalking around the house, muttering to herself and doing the occasional spell (thankfully staying away from the white knight but the windows were suffering greatly) and generally leaving him alone. After their initial discussions, they’d agreed that staying far out of each other’s way would be the best way to handle things. He was not keen on making nice with the witch that killed him and attempted to use his niece to end the world and she was not keen on making nice with him either.

So, when he set up the canvas and paints in the sun room, he’d expected to be left alone. He expected that he would be left to whatever embarrassment he would make of himself. He expected to be left to simply imagine how his siblings would tear into his works, each with their own cutting variety of insults.

“If you listen carefully, you can hear destiny speaking,” Sally Donovan whispered, tilting her head as if listening for the sound of Fate. “They would be a perfect match if Holmes weren’t such an arse to him all the time.”

Philip Anderson snorted, reading the labels on a row of snack pudding cups in the refrigerator as if they were ancient runes. “Perfect? We both know Holmes’ brother has a mean streak that could scare the birds off a rooftop. He’s cold with everyone, but yeah, he’s been brutal to Greg.”

Sally chuckled. “It’s all about balance. Greg is the steady lighthouse, and Mycroft Holmes is… well, a sweeping gale. Together they’d sail smooth seas if only Holmes kept his ship labels on straight.”

“Shh!” Philip playfully punched his former lover and glanced warily toward the pantry door. “If Greg hears us, or worse, Holmes –either one, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

The pantry door swung open with a prophetic squeak, and Greg strode in. He stopped short, seeing Sally and Philip, who both flinched like two birds hopping along a branch, and suddenly realized a cat was nearby. They quickly morphed into neutral expressions, which made it worse.  

The fluorescent lighting seemed to deepen Greg’s scowl. “What are you two plotting in here? Solving world hunger, or solving who owes who a snack?”

Sally straightened, “We were just, um, looking for the vending machine that dispenses wisdom.”

“What now?” Greg raised a brow at them.

Phillip coughed. “Yeah, wisdom, and uh, calibrating our taste buds to the mood of the team. You know, the perfect blend of salty and sweet to optimize morale.” He took a pudding cup out and closed the refrigerator door.

Greg snorted and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in a playful sternness. “Don’t turn the pantry into a theater. What were you really whispering about? Spill it…”

Sally tried to salvage the moment with bravado. “We were discussing, you know, potential pairings in the universe. If… Holmes’ brother could dial down the glacier routine.”

“Potential pairings… With Mycroft Holmes… and who…?” Greg pointed to himself with disbelief.

“No!” Philip, a terrible liar, looked away guiltily.

Greg blinked and held up a hand. “Both of you…stop. I’d rather not be the subject of your romantic ship logs.”

Philip swallowed a laugh. “We aren’t plotting anything sinister, Lestrade. Just… hypothetically curating a fantasy playlist for office romance.”

“What are you twelve‽ Are we in a secondary?” Greg looked around as if expecting to see school lockers about. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

Sally opened her mouth, caught herself, and shrugged. “Fine. If you insist, we think you two look good together, if Holmes would relax and not be such a dick.”

“You think Holmes can relax? Either of them? Bollocks.” He crossed his arms, his voice dropping. “Look, I’m not blind to how cold Mycroft Holmes is to people, especially how you see him with me, but I’m not interested in being the plot twist of your little drama.” Greg sighed, a trace of exasperation melting into amusement. “Though thanks for the vote of confidence, you think someone like me could bag him, I guess...? But, please, for the sake of our continued ability to work here and not some freezing arctic outpost, how about we take this talk out of here before your whispers take wing and squawk like a seagull at Holmes’s shore.” He reached into the refrigerator, grabbed a water bottle, and closed the door a little harder than necessary, “Or better yet, how about we, meaning you, 1- remember you’re talking about a Holmes who can make your lives more miserable than Sherlock, and 2- drop this talk altogether. NOW.”

Greg didn’t pull his scary commanding side out often; he didn’t need to, but when he did? It was effective.

Philip took the verbal bludgeon disguised as a hint and grabbed a spoon for his pudding. “A mouth full of snacks can’t talk, gotcha.”

Sally mimed zipping her lips. “Aye, aye, Guv.”

“I mean it.” Greg looked at them both with a gimlet eye before leaving.

Sally glanced at Philip, making sure the door was closed behind Greg, before she spoke in a low whisper. “Wanna wager: six months from now, they’re a couple?”

“I say a year from now, and you’re on.”

TEXT: Gossip mill wagers that we'll be a couple within six months. – GL

TEXT: Wait until they learn we’ve been married for the past two. - MH

=======================================

Read / Comment on AO3

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

FEB 28: #BUTTON TITLE: Contempt and Claustrophobia SHIP: Rosemary/Fernando FANDOM: Ashita no Nadja RATING: G WORDS: 975 A/N: set before they start their terrible little dance, Rosemary is scheming over the laundry. okay maybe it’s not fluff.. it’s hard to write fluff for them but I TRIED in their terrible way lol.

She’s doing his laundry again.

She knows which clothes belong to whom by now; she’s been washing at this estate since she was 13. It’s her life.

It’s not the life she’s supposed to have. She’s not supposed to have red, cracked hands and a sore back. Aching feet and unfriendly working conditions are not her destiny, but they seem to be her fate. 

               Congressman Bucky Barnes struggles to button his shirt. It’s not a motion he’d developed muscle memory for, or would it be circuitry memory, in his metal arm. Hydra assets don’t exactly wear suits. He smiles at himself in the mirror, thinking he finally has it down, but alas, he did it wrong again.

               “Doll?” He calls out. His lover’s voice comes from another room.

               “Shirt?” She stifles a giggle as she yells back.

               “Yeah” He grumbles, hearing her laughter. He smiles for a moment when Y/N enters the room with an amused look on her face.

               “You know, the quickest way to learn to do something is to practice” She muses. She starts unbuttoning his shirt.

               “Woah, slow down doll” Bucky teases.

               “No sir, we are not doing that!” Y/N swats Bucky’s chest “You have a meeting in thirty minutes you’re already going to be late for!”

               “And you have a superhero team to lead” Bucky snickers. Not because his wife is co-leader of Sam’s Avengers, but because she worked in the government when he met her. they practically switched jobs.

               Y/N goes back to buttoning the shirt. Bucky’s smirk turns to a soft smile as he watches his wife work. He wonders what he ever did to deserve a woman as amazing as her. Bucky found a woman who stood by him even after knowing his past. He doesn’t know how but he’s glad he did.

               “We’re going to dinner after my meeting” He mutters. Bucky doesn’t realize he’s speaking until Y/N looks up at him.

               “Since when?” Y/N fastens the last button. Bucky takes her hand and kisses it.

               “Since I want to treat my wife” Bucky ties his tie before kissing Y/N “Get going, tell Sam I say hi”

               Y/N leaves for work. Bucky reaches under their bed and pulls out a box. He planned for this to be one of the many gifts he planned to give Y/N for their anniversary, but now is as good a time as ever.

               Y/N returns from work to a note on the counter.

Y/N,

               I put something on the bed for you. Your chariot awaits.

               Love you

-James Beuchanon Barnes

               It’s written on his congressman letterhead in his usual black ink. Y/N giggles. Of course, her husband turns a simple dinner date into this. She goes to the bedroom to see what he left. Her jaw drops. On the bed lies a dress. It would fall halfway down her calves if she put it on. It’s floral, lacy, with butterflies scattered around the sheer fabric on the outside. The neckline is lined with ruffles that fall down the arms. Next to the olive green dress lies a pair of silver butterfly earrings with a matching necklace and a pair of sheer gloves that match the color of the dress. Each item she’d seen in a shop and fell in love with, but she swears she never mentioned it to Bucky. She puts on the outfit. Bucky put out her favorite shoes too, white Mary-Jane heels that make her feel like a princess. She does her makeup before going outside.

               Bucky leans against his car. For a moment, he’s dumbstruck at the sight of his beautiful Y/N. He pulls himself together and kisses her hand like the men in that regency show she likes.

               “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Past or present” He places his hand on her face. The metal one as to not smudge her makeup.

               “You’re too good to me” Y/N covers the bottom half of her face to hide her blush. Bucky picks her up bridal style and carries her to the car.

               “I treat you just how you deserve” He mutters “I love you”

@fluffbruary