Fluffbruary Extended Version Infinifluff. May 14. (Sherlock fandom) Prompts: grow - shrub - soil + the image below
Chapter 3: 221B
Summary: John explores the inside of Sherlock's cottage, which is just as enigmatic and eccentric as its owner. When he asks the question he's wanted to get an answer to for a while, he's totally unprepared for Sherlock's reaction. However, the doctor in him reacts instinctively.
Solace and Joy, Ch. 95: "Conditional" and Ch. 96: "There's Always Something"
Ch. 95, summary: Sherlock thinks love has to be conditional. Even John's.
*
Will you still love me if—?
Sherlock, stop right there. Whatever follows the if, the answer is yes. Because it’s unconditional.
But John, of course it’s conditional.
What is?
Admiration. Infatuation. Love.
Even mine?
Of course.
O—kay. Can you explain?
The day we met. Would you have lent me your phone if I’d been looking the way I do when I lounge around the flat? No. And certainly not if you met me at my worst.
Yeah, but—
You admire my looks. I’m delighted, obviously. But you look at me 28% more, and 36% more desirously, when I am costumed than when I’m comfortable. There’s a reward for curating one’s appearance, and a penalty for not doing so—for being authentic, spontaneous.
But isn’t that, well, universal? Dressing professionally for work, and making an effort at personal appearance?
Obviously. But for someone like myself—I must maintain a professional appearance. More: perform my professional identity. For credibility. With clients. Police. Media. Even, God help us, police chiefs, government functionaries. Colleagues, partners. Partner.
Okay. But again, isn’t that true for everyone? Forgive me: I’m not saying it shouldn’t bother you, or you’re wrong to chafe at it. At least a military uniform is visibly a uniform. But so’s a lab coat. No one would listen to my medical opinion if I practiced in a t-shirt.
Yes, but. You aren’t an outlier. A… freak.
You aren’t a freak either. But setting that aside. Your conclusion is that you’re only attractive to me, and to the outside world, when you’re disguised.
That’s it exactly.
And if you stop the performance, my affection and admiration will diminish. Dwindle to nothing. Stop altogether.
Mmm.
So that’s why you’re ambivalent about your appearance: you think you’re physically unattractive and have to cover yourself up, because you think you’re … psychically unattractive and have to conceal the real you.
Diagnosing me again?
*
[Ch. 96, summary: John laughs Sherlock's hypothesis out of court, and Sherlock out of countenance.]
Not diagnosing you, because you’re not ill. So you can stop with the martyred sighs. But you do realise you’re overlooking something blindingly obvious, O My Best Beloved.
And what might that be, Doctor Kipling?
It might be that I stare at you longer when you’re in costume, because being in costume usually means you’re at work. Or at any rate, in public. Where I can’t tear your clothes off. All I can do is stare.
Oh.
Put that together with how form-fitting your costume is, and it seems very unfair to blame me for staring.
I didn’t blame you.
No, you just claimed that my love or desire is conditional on your maintaining a certain appearance and demeanor.
Claiming is not blaming.
Yes, it is. Potato, potahto. Besides, I have other reasons that me staring is not a sign that I love you upon conditions. First one being that my favourite version of you is your—our—at-home version, specifically, in bed. Tousled, sweaty, and undone. Stained too, preferably.
And that is—why?
Precisely because it’s the most intimate, unguarded you, the one you only let me see, the one that isn’t put on to make an impression, or chosen for an effect.
So you’re saying I've got it exactly wrong about the relationship of your affection to my appearance.
There, see, I knew you’d get there eventually. —Oof! Ow! Stop pinching me, you tit!
Well then stop twitting me, you… twat. You could’ve told me sooner.
It never occurred to me I’d have to spell it out for you, but here we go: “Sherlock, I do not love you for your looks, and I will only love you more as they change down the decades. You do not have to dye your hair or look the same forever for me to love you forever. Signed, John H. Watson.” I can have it notarised, if I must. But I’d’ve thought it was obvious, to any rational man.
But isn’t that what I’m always telling you? Emotions aren’t rational. It’s why I’m so wary of them.*
You’ll just have to trust me, then.
I'll think about it.
(tbc)
*
Huffing and puffing to catch up with Infinifluff! June's word prompts were translucent, performance, and shadow.
Do you miss the fluff of February? Despair no longer! In just one week (March 14) it is time for a new round of Infinifluff. The theme is gardening of any sort; feel free to interpret that as you wish.
The prompts are: rain - vines - water + the image above.
Alternative prompts: orchard - forest - landscape - oak - abundance + the image below.
Get creative and when you post your fluff, remember to tag us so we can reblog the fluffiness.
Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial using the prompt FFF 333 - broken wings and @fluffbruary prompt for November 14 : light. Set after the 10th episode of “Glass Heart.” There might be book spoilers along the way, so please tread carefully. (The intro was Inspired by Joachim Trier’s “The Worst Person in the World”. The title from Hooverphonic’s song.)
—
Fandom: Glass Heart (Netflix)
Characters: Naoki Fujitani, Sho Takaoka, brief appearances of Akane Saijo and Kazushi Sakamoto
Word count: 1086
LOST in the planet of music, headphones on and wearing only the hospital robe, Naoki did not notice that Sho stood at the door. With his eyes closed, Naoki was pretending that he was playing the drums. His hands were clenched as if holding two sticks, hitting the cymbals and snares, kicking the imaginary drum bass with his foot. His legs began to jiggle as the music reached full throttle of the coda.
The guitarist could hear the notes hovering in the air from where he stood. The loudness made Naoki separated from the world. Sho didn’t have the heart to break the spell that he waited patiently until the younger man settled down.
He observed Naoki’s swaying figure, who was a few steps away from him, his broken wings, the body downed with lethargy, and the brain infested with malignant tumor.
Ten, 15, 30 minutes, he tapped Naoki’s shoulder when there was no sign that his enthusiasm would end soon.
“You are here!” Naoki’s eyes widened.
Sho missed seeing that childlike smile directed at him. The heart-shaped lips that used to sing some of his songs.
“Yeah…”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.”
Naoki furrowed his brows, disbelieving. Sho chuckled, was not sure if he’d feel glad or embarrassed that his friend caught his lies.
“How are things?” Naoki’s face was hollow, the cheekbones more prominent. Did he get worse after the day they parted ?
“Busy at the moment. We have started recording an album that is scheduled to come out in five months.”
“Ah!” Naoki nodded his head and turned his gaze to the window. He stood up, then placed his hands on the windowsill. The locks were shut. Must be a security issue from the hospital discouraging its patients to jump to their deaths. The whole space was saturated with desperation from its previous inhabitants, Naoki had never felt more depressed.
“How’s your singer? How are you getting along with her? Is she a nicer person? Easier to deal with than me?” So many questions he wanted to ask Sho, who he had not seen nor heard for months.
“How did you know that I am confined in here?” Naoki continued, looked at the eyes of his former protector, searching for the tenderness that he once knew.
“I met Akane and Kazushi at the recording studio with Toya. They told me that you are here and you were inconsolable in the beginning.”
“I can’t trust those two. They cannot keep a secret.”
“I should not know it?” Sho couldn’t believe his ears. There was a lump in his throat.
//
After their last concert from Japan Alive Festival, there were discussions that they should make another album. Naoki penned three more songs that could be the start of a sophomore record. Sho contributed another three. But as soon as they began to rehearse them, Naoki fell into the habit again of overdoing things chasing for the perfect sound. Hallucinations followed and migraines so strong he could not work with a single light on. Kazushi was furious and threatened to walk out. Akane, on the other hand, was helpless.
In the end, the second album came to a standstill. Naoki would do the therapy once and for all.
“It was never going to work out anyway,” Kazushi told Sho when they accidentally met at the recording studio. Akane was there too. Toya enlisted them to work on his solo album. Sho noticed that she looked more mature. Gone was her innocence. Taking care of Naoki would probably do that to a 23-year-old whose life was dedicated to the man and the maker of the music she loved.
“Naoki would love to see you again,” Akane said as she stood in front of him. She gave him the address of the hospital and the rest was up to him.
\\
Naoki walked towards him. Without uttering a word, Sho grabbed Naoki’s neck and pulled the singer to him. Anguish on his face.
The hug was so tight they could hardly breathe. Like a hungry man his lips found Naoki’s while his hands travelled to his skin. He could feel the ribs protruding from Naoki’s flimsy texture of the hospital robe. He only had his knickers on.
“Mmm.” Sho savoured Naoki’s taste. Tongues sparred like swords.
Is there an etiquette of having sex with a patient in a hospital?
“You accepted to play guitar for Rita Kashii. You belong only to me. You will only play for me. You promised.”
The voice was trembling but the statement was loud and clear. It was also correct. Sho could feel it in his bones.
Their heads touched.
“I know. I am sorry. It is only for this record,” Sho whispered on his lover’s half-opened eyes.
“When will you come back to me?”
Sho didn’t answer. Swallowed hard.
//
While Naoki’s health deteriorated, the relationship among Naoki, Sho and Akane was not harmonious. Sho thought he accepted the setup, her in between him and Naoki, but there were days when he resented the girl.
On the day he admitted to Naoki that it would be better if they remained friends, he cried in front of him.
“You are moving out as well…” It was not a question. “Of course.” Naoki walked in the music room murmuring.
“I am selfish. I know that now.”
“No, Sho. You are only human. But I cannot choose between you and Akane.”
So Sho collected his clothes, his guitars and equipment and other belongings one after the other.
\\
Sho found himself lying on the hospital bed with Naoki, whose head was on his chest.
“Akane will move in with Kazushi after their marriage, the house is going to be empty…”
“Huh?”
“They are getting married next month,” Naoki continued, “and I have given them my blessing.”
“For real?” Sho sat up.
“They’ve been in love ever since. Akane admitted it to me. Who am I to keep someone who doesn’t want me?”
Sho shook his head slowly.
“No. That’s not true.”
“I am not going to be mad if you don’t want to, Sho.”
The guitarist loved the man so much he’d do anything for him. He moved closer, their noses almost touching.
“I am not going to hurt you, Sho.” He pressed their lips together. Then slowly showered kisses on his face.
“I know.” Sho said in a small voice.
Naoki tasted salt from Sho’s cheeks as he held the man tightly.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Dangan Ronpa Series
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Naegi Makoto
Characters: Naegi Makoto, Kamukura Izuru
Additional Tags: Eldritch Abominations, Eldritch Being Kamukura Izuru, why is this not a thing??, Eldritch Cultist Naegi Makoto, They/Them Pronouns for Kamukura Izuru, Fluff, Flowers, Fluffbruary, Infinifluff, Izuru will get out of bed for ONE (1) mortal and one mortal only
Series: Part 8 of Monster March 2026
Summary:
Naegi pays a visit to his beloved eldritch god.
This one is also a crossover with @fluffbruary’s Infinifluff! Using vines, water, and the image prompt:
Ok so I know this is super late for both Fluffbruary and Polyam shipping day but those prompts just fit this chapter. I hope it’s ok to still post it under those tags (Also this time there’s two excerpts, one for each prompt :) )
Excerpt 1 (Fluffbruary, picture prompt)
When [Troy] peeked his head into [Ri’s] room he saw that she was indeed awake. Awake and quietly cursing under her breath. He caught some of those Spanish words and had to grin – that mouth on her. Carefully he climbed up the rest of the steps, eager to see what had her so frustrated.
She was… painting that old wardrobe with… bright spots of color? He blinked. The sight refused to change, not even when he got closer. He supposed a toddler might like what she was doing to the wardrobe but was at a complete loss as to why she was doing it. They had a definite lack of toddlers.
“What are you doing?” he asked when he was right behind her. She shrieked and flew around, the brush brandished like a weapon and drew a bright red stripe across his face.
“What the…??” He was caught too off guard to get angry at.
“Look what you did!” she accused him in between taking gulping breaths. Trying to calm her racing heart (whoops, he really hadn’t meant to startle her like that) or… trying not to laugh?
“What I did?!” Troy had found his outrage. Narrowing her pretty eyes at him she huffed,
“Who snuck up on whom here, huh?” Drops of paint flew off her paintbrush as she made a sweeping gesture with her hand while she spoke. Troy’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, glaring at her.
“You’re the one not being careful with the brush!”
“You…!” Ri started, most likely about to make this his fault too, when she broke out laughing instead. “...your face!” she wheezed.
Excerpt 2 (Polyam shipping day, prompt: rescue)
“You’ll see,” she continued, smug, “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll feel so relaxed.”
He seriously doubted that. Every stroke down his back set him alight with pleasure, even the more hurtful parts had him begging, yearning, for more. Jesus Christ, was that because of that game Lee had been playing with Troy the last few days? Imagining, fantasizing about being with Ri, intimately, and now his mind couldn’t not. Especially with how close she was, her hands moving so confidently over his body—good god, good god, he needed to stop!
But the heat was already in him – he was sure his cheeks were flaming and his throat let embarrassing noises escape, not matter how hard he tried to keep them in (at least they were stifled) and his cock was standing at attention as if this weren’t just a kindness between friends but something more… carnal.
Shit, shit, shit, he needed to calm down! If she had even an inkling of what was going through his mind (his body)… oh god! What if she could tell the state of him?! No. Nonono. Not yet at least. Or she’d have jumped up and left already.
But just because she hadn’t yet didn’t mean she wouldn’t discover him. God, this was beyond embarrassing. Fuck, it was downright humiliating. And even that thought did nothing to abate that white hot want tearing through his veins, urging him to grind into the couch unashamed. Or more, even. Turn around and put his hands on her—No! Fuck no. Shit, this wasn’t one of their fantasies! It wasn’t. It wasn’t. He couldn’t just touch her like it was.
But if she decided to snake her hands around him, under him—he did moan then, much less chocked than he would’ve liked.
“What’s going on here?” Oh god, that was Lee! Oh, if Lee saw him like this he would definitely be able to tell what was going on with him. And still Troy turned his head towards where he’d heard his boyfriend’s voice, seeking his boyfriend’s gaze. They locked eyes just when the realization hit Lee (while Ri was answering Lee’s question – not that Troy was listening, the humiliation of the situation he was in burning brightly in him). He was sure his cheeks were even redder now, god, what a sight he had to be.
But Lee, sweet Lee wasn’t looking at him in disappointment or disgust. No, instead there was something intense -hungry- in his gaze. Hungry and dark and for a heartbeat Troy feared Lee would reveal Troy’s state to Ri. A groan, low and deep was dragged from his unwilling throat while his cock started leaking precum.
“Help me,” he mouthed, desperately. Lee’s lips curved into a wolfish grin...
@fluffbruary @polyamships (the second excerpt is rated mature)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@fluffbruary
Chapters: 1/1 Words: 200
Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy
Additional Tags: Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Autumn, forest, Nature, Holding Hands
Summary: Geralt and Regis are having a moment together observing a butterfly.
