#Just lots and lots of fluff
Text
come rest your bones next to me ; satoru gojo, suguru geto
synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.
word count; 4.6k
contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues
a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33
”holy shit!”
the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.
”satoru, it’s too early for this...”
”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.
your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.
(snowing.)
with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.
satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.
maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.
it’s beautiful.
satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.
all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.
the first snow of the year.
and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.
there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.
like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.
and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.
(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.
and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)
high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.
and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.
a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.
he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.
— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.
satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.
(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)
”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”
he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.
it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.
so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.
satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.
”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.
”never.”
a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.
a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”
and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.
his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”
his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.
he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.
when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.
you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.
hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.
satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.
because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.
what more could a man want?
”hey, idiots!”
the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.
”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”
”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.
suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.
(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)
with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.
”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.
then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”
satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”
a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”
a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”
and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”
satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.
despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”
”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.
”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”
satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.
suguru sighs.
”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”
his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.
he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.
when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.
the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.
(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.
and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)
suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.
when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.
that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.
”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.
satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”
but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”
a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”
you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”
a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.
and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.
his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.
and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.
(i'm sorry, you big baby.)
satoru grins.
you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.
”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”
he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”
”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”
”and don’t play dumb, either.”
a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”
said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.
and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.
”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”
satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”
you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”
”hmph.”
suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.
and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.
that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.
this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.
(married.)
sometimes he still can’t believe it.
”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”
and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.
and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.
your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.
his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.
(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)
and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.
a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.
and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.
”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”
”— you’re disgusting.”
the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.
and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.
you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.
then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”
”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.
silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.
”… santa can only do so much, baby.”
two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.
”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”
you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”
”of course not! blasphemy.”
a moment passes.
”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”
a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.
then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.
he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.
and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.
he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.
for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?
(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)
— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.
it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.
and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.
warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.
he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.
and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.
he hopes it never goes away.
#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3#i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother#i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u#but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it#and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child#im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto x reader x gojo#gojo fluff#geto fluff#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#satosugu x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#……… thats… a lot of tags.
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grow on me like a dog loved fondly: prologue | kamo choso
wc: 1.0k
summary: your regular to the flower shop is more than what he seems.
contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, animal shelter employee choso x flower shop owner reader, implied that reader is shorter than choso, flowers, small talk.
a/n: the promised choso drabble! depending on how this is received, i intend for this to be the prologue to a longer choso fic i have in mind!
You have a regular on the weekends.
Business in the flower shop tends to be slow during winter, with less occasions having the need for flowers and even less buds blooming during the season.
But even with the expected decline in customers, Saturdays always guarantee one—
The bells attached to the store doors jingle, allowing in a gust of cool air that tickles your cheeks from where you’re crouched down. The peonies in your hands were delivered just yesterday, the ends of the stems needing a slight trim to keep them fresh for longer.
You turn, standing up to face your visitor. A purple scarf is wrapped high around his neck, with white fleece running down the length of his arms—a sort of undershirt to the short-sleeved uniform worn atop it. The outfit is familiar enough, but what truly distinguishes him are the two spiky pigtails on the sides of his head.
There are a few things you’ve managed to pick up from four-line exchanges with your regular (six if you’re lucky): 1) he works at the animal shelter a few streets away, 2) the flowers he buys are for the front desk, a weekly replacement he deems necessary to keep the place looking alive, and 3) who he is, his name—
—‘Choso’, if the tag on his uniform says anything.
The tag that is now, also, just a hand’s reach away from you.
You look up, pocketing your plant nippers. The peonies dangle between your fingers.
“W-welcome!” you stutter, focusing on the thin metal chain running across his nose.
It’s new, an addition that intrigues you more about the man in front of you.
The look he gives you is lazy, gaze deadpan, almost empty. Anyone else might find it snobbish and off-putting, but you’ve gotten used to it—an almost magenta puffiness that surrounds his eyes, bags of fatigue that usually hang underneath.
He continues to stare, unmoving.
Considering all your previous interactions, you’ve realized, he isn’t scary or rude or anything of that sort—he’s just awkward.
A bit quiet and unbothered, maybe, but still just awkward. You don’t think he’s ever started an interaction with you first.
“Is there any flower in particular that you’re looking for?” you ask, motioning around your store.
The selection is limited this season—a few camellias and clusters of Japanese primrose with an abundance of peonies and daffodils.
His head turns as he glances around the store, pigtails bobbing slightly with each movement. When he faces you again, he shrugs, voice deep and firm as he asks, “Do you have any recommendations?”
It’s an odd feeling, borderline awkward and nervous; you have no idea why your mind is blanking.
“Um,” you clear your throat, tucking the peonies between your fingers into your apron pocket, “daffodils are bright and friendly, good for entryways and front desks, I think.”
He eyes the daffodils to your right, buckets of stems holding yellow and white. The store stays quiet for what feels like a good minute before he nods, agreeing to your suggestion.
“The usual?” two clusters, wrapped in newspaper.
Your question echoes throughout the shop, lingering while you pick at which daffodils look best.
“Yes, but two of them.” he answers in monotone, before adding on, a soft hesitancy, “Please.”
You smile to yourself, picking more daffodils for another bunch.
Both of you make your way to the cashier, another bout of silence surrounding you as you crumple newspaper and pull at tape. He always watches, you notice, his focus set on your practiced handling of stems and leaves.
You look up momentarily, seeing that he keeps his head down, “The pigtails are cool.”
He doesn’t say anything, and for a while you’re afraid you might have offended him, but he responds, voice low; it’s soft, gentle in a way you never expected it to be.
“Thank you.” you catch him shifting his weight from your periphery, hands digging deeper into his pockets, “The dogs think they’re chew toys when I wear it this way.”
You most certainly were not expecting that, either.
This is the most initiative he’s taken to add onto the conversation.
You grin, chuckling under your breath, “That must be fun.”
It’s faint, but you think you hear him laugh a little.
When the flowers are completely wrapped, you set them aside, making your way behind the cash register. You punch in the cost, ready to bill him before he speaks again.
“Actually, would you happen to do deliveries?” he seems shy asking it, barely looking you in the eye.
“Yes!” You nod, grabbing a pen and paper to hand over to him, “Just write down your contact details, the address you want it delivered to, and when you’d like it to be delivered.”
Another thing you’ve realized, is that despite appearances and what he seems to be, Choso handles objects gently; the pen and paper you’d just given him were taken lightly from your fingertips. Even the strokes of his penmanship are slow, the tip of the pen barely creating an indent on the small sheet.
“Will you be having both of these delivered?” you ask, holding up the bundles of daffodils.
“Just one.” he answers promptly, before adding on again, “Thank you.”
And you know you shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t be so nosy, but—
“What’s the occasion?”—
Flowers are rarely in demand during the winter season.
—“If you don’t mind me asking,” you follow-up quickly.
The immediate quiet makes you think you might have gotten too comfortable again, made him feel weird about your questions—but he answers.
“My brothers,” he finishes the final curves of his writing, “they’re coming to visit.”
The piece of paper is handed to you, and you hum, acknowledging his response. You go over his details, reciting it to him to double-check. But when you land on his address, your eyes go wide, a little ‘oh!’ slipping out.
He furrows his brows, confused.
You definitely, most certainly did not expect this.
“Sorry,” you shake your head, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, “Just—“ you chuckle, “I think we might be neighbors.”
thank you notes: @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for sending me lil prompts that somehow birthed into this!! + @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell for feeding the choso brainrot 🥹 + @mysugu @soumies for being my angels, lights of my life!! listening to me ramble abt this and helping me pick music, hash out plot, pick title, everything! ily
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#choso x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#choso fluff#jjk x you#jjk fluff#choso x y/n#jjk xyou#shotorus.writes#jjk#choso#im also still too lazy to do the banner#ill add it tomorrow#if this doesn't work out i'll still write the longer fic someday!! just wont be a priority!!#but i have lots of themes i kinda wanna touch on alr
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"Welcome back, it's been a while."
After a long time has passed, how might the Obey Me! demons welcome you home with a hug?
---
Lucifer tries to approach you in a calm and collected manner, but that facade easily crumbles as he gets closer. His pace quickens and his expression melts into an inscrutable blend of emotion. The man is fighting to stay composed.
He pulls you towards him, unwilling to wait a moment longer to have you in his arms. His gloved hands wrap around your back and waist with a secure grip. Your toes brush the ground as his hug lifts you to eye level, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Welcome back, I've missed you."
---
Mammon sprints up with the goofiest grin imaginable plastered on his face. He catches himself at the last moment though, grinding to a halt as a blush creeps over his ears. He wants to be cool. "You sure are a piece a work to keep The Great Mammon waiting."
His arrogant act is betrayed by the many glances in your direction. By the way he's clenching his fist so hard his knuckles are white, and by the way he immediately crumbles into your open arms the second you reach out. He throws his arms around your shoulders and digs his face into your neck. He grips the back of your top a little too hard, as if you might leave again any moment.
---
Leviathan sheds his insecurities and doubts, all negative emotions, just to be able to bask in your presence again. It's a moment he's looked forward to for weeks. He puts trust into the belief that you've also been looking forward to seeing him.
He wraps his arms and legs around you, unconsciously aiming to get as much skin contact as possible. "I've really missed you, you know!?" he half-shouts before burying his face in your shoulder. You fight to stay standing upright. Every little movement, every minor adjustment in posture you make causes Leviathan to snuggle closer until you can't tell where your limbs end and his begin.
---
Satan can't control all of the overwhelming emotions that hit him at once. He grabs hold of your hand, and with a palm on your back he pulls you close until your entire weight leans against him. At your touch, all he can do is smile.
"Glad to see you again." The two of you sway back and forth, turning your hug into a psuedo-Waltz. When you look into his eyes, Satan gives your hand a kiss and presses your intertwined fingers against his face.
---
Asmodeus laughs as he barrels into you. "Did you miss me? Of course you did!"
You stumble back several steps yet he catches you before you fall, latching onto your side like a matching puzzle piece. He rubs his cheek over your head, pausing every few seconds to give you a kiss as his free hand enthusiastically traces its way up your back.
Asmodeus is the most reluctant to let go. Making a mess of your hair and clothes only gives him a calculated opportunity to touch you more as he tidies up your appearance. His caress lingers over your collarbone and around your ear. His fingers brush against your mouth, which he then brings to his own lips.
---
Beelzebub falls to his knees, relieved to see you return safe and sound and glad to be by your side once more. His arms curl around your hips. He noses his face into your chest and looks up with a content smile as he greets you, "welcome back."
You lean over to return the hug, running your hands through his hair. You don't expect Beelzebub to stand, picking you up in the process. You steady yourself on his shoulders as he rises, his violet eyes not wavering from you for a second, tempting him to steal a kiss.
---
Belphegor wraps his arms around your shoulders and practically falls on you. He doesn't seem concerned that you're sinking to the ground. In fact, he's so preoccupied with cuddling up to you that there's no way to avoid sitting on the ground with this demon on top of you.
He curls his body around your legs. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he slowly exhales, "welcome back." He's awake, but nothing will stop him from pretending to be asleep as his grip strength loosens and his face trails down your body.
---
Diavolo laughs amicably as you approach. He wants you to come to him, and is so thrilled to have you back. He bends down to latch his arms under yours and swings you around, sweeping you off your feet as you twirl two, three times, then slow to a stop.
"How have you been?" In due time he wants to know everything, and hear all the stories of your time away in detail. For now, he's got you locked in a bear hug. You feel his lips brush over your hair as he lightly swings you back and forth.
---
Barbatos' hug is the most restrained. It's simple and polite. At first he was content to just greet you with a gentle handshake and loving gaze. Though, when you request a hug, there is no way he can say no.
He extends his arms around your back, gives you two soft pats, and hesitates for just a moment before letting you go.
At night that evening as you prepare for bed, you find a note in your pocket that Barbatos must have cunningly slipped in without anyone noticing. It's a detailed letter with everything he didn't get to tell you in person.
#I've seen a lot of people coming back to the games after a while of not playing#and “fluff” won that quick poll I posted the other day so I churned this out just to pass the time. it's 100% self indulgent.#I've got better writing in my drafts folder but ota is in two months! Gotta get my cosplay done!#edit: I FORGOT MEPHISTO BRO I AM SO SORRY think of all the potential with his cane. screaming sorry mephisto#obey me#obey me swd#obey me!#omswd#obey me scenarios#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanon#obey me x mc#obey me fanfic#obey me brothers#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me x reader#obey me fluff#obey me drabble#obey me fic#obey me writing#obey me mc
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List of “mix of random dialogue and non-dialogue, smut and non-smut” prompts
“I’m a mess because of you.” “You’re my mess.” “I’m… I’m your mess.” (FUCKING HELLO BITCH DO NOT- WLKFNFKLN I’ll get on my knees for you, my love—)
“That’s my baby girl/baby boy.” (Can he just— HEWOQKNFWKELNF)
“You look so hot like that.”
“God, you turn me on so much.”
“Fuck, I’m gonna come—” Character B whimpers, hips bucking into Character A’s. “Mm, yeah? Then come for me,” Character A murmurs, stroking their fingers through Character B’s hair. (The noises he made as he came undone were SO FUCKING HOT BYE. those WHIMPERS?? FUCKING DELICIOUSSSSS LET ME HEAR MORE OF THEM, I BEG- ALSO WHO KNEW I HAD IT IN ME TO SAY THAT TO SOMEONE LMFAO, “then come for me” WQBHRELWJKNEWF BITCH. GET OUTTT-)
Those sweet little noises Character B tries so hard to suppress but is unable to as they come undone.
“I’m such a fucking wreck right now…”
“Imagine how good I’d feel inside of you.” (FUCKIFKSKSKKSKSKS WHEN HE SAID THAT AND I WAS LIKE LKENFKLEWNF-)
“I love you so much,” Character B murmurs, hugging Character A closer to them. (🥹🥹🥹 HE SAID IT HE SAID IT HE SAID ITTT 😭 He’s said it over text before but now it’s in person and I’m actually gonna WEEP EWKLNFWEEFN)
“I love you for you, and I’m going to continue to love you. I’ll always love and support you no matter what,” Character B reassures after Character A spills out their anxieties and worries to them about a situation they’ve been so, so scared to tell them about; scared of how Character B would react. (…I’m just going to say I love this man so much.)
“When I first met you, I didn’t know you were like this,” Character A murmurs, slowly grinding their hips down against Character B’s. Character B grins up at them, hands wrapped around their thighs, squeezing gently. “Yeah, and I didn’t know I was like this, either. And I thought you were shy when I first met you... Now look at you, huh?”
Character A not knowing how sensitive their breasts are until Character B pays full attention to them with their mouth. (…I WILL NOT SAY ANYTHING ELSE BUT FUCK YES—)
Character A tearing up as they try to be vulnerable with Character B, and Character B reassuring them by telling them they can take their time and it’s okay if they can’t say it right now; that they can say it when they’re ready.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so enamoured by someone,” Character A murmurs, caressing Character B’s face. (I’M A POETIC SIMP, WHAT CAN I SAY—)
“Fuck, why are you— Mmh— why are you doing this to me?”
“We can take things as slow as you want. I want you to be comfortable, and as long as you’re happy, then I’m happy.” (PLEASE WJDJJS IM CRYING AHH, how’d I get someone so sweet sjkdms)
“We can rent a hotel somewhere… You can be as loud as you want then, hm?” (HE’S JUST FUCKING OUT HERE, YOUR HONOUR!!)
“Fuck me,” Character A whimpers as Character B’s hips picks up with speed. “I could if you wanted me to,” Character B grunts. (SIR- FUCK OFF ISTFGGG)
Character B placing their hand on Character A’s thigh while they’re sitting down.
Character B wrapping their arm around Character A’s shoulders and pulling them closer to them, letting Character A rest their head on their shoulder.
Character B leaning in for a kiss and Character A shyly leaning in to give them a quick peck on the lips.
“Whatever I do, I’ll always be adorable to you, won’t I? Even if I do the most heinous shit known to mankind—” “Yes. Yes, you’ll always be adorable to me.”
“You sure you don’t wanna close the blinds? People outside could see us…” “Trust me, they won’t.” (this FUCKING GUY, but I guess he wasn’t wrong after I took a closer look at the blinds—)
“You’re enjoying yourself up there, aren’t you?” Character B teases, watching through hooded lids as Character A rides them while clothed. “Does it look like I am?” Character A questions, breathless.
“You just… You make me happy.” (YOU DO TOO, MY LOVE <333)
“You’ve always been so caring and supportive of me so I don’t know why I doubted you… I’m sorry.”
Character A being ticklish on their neck whenever Character B plants soft feather like kisses there, so Character B plants even more soft kisses there, turning Character A into a giggling mess.
Kisses on the eyelids. (The softest shit EVER)
“Didn’t realise your objective was to get into my pants all this time,” Character B teases, and Character A rolls their eyes, a breathless laugh leaving them. “You know that’s not true. I think you’re the one who has the objective of getting into my pants,” Character A throws back. Character B shakes their head with a chuckle. “That’s not true.”
“How are we gonna manage being away from each other for a whole month?” Character A murmurs softly. “Mmmh, we’ll somehow manage,” Character B reassures, stroking their fingers through Character A’s hair.
“How are you going to manage without this for a whole month?” Character B questions as Character A grinds down on them. “I don’t think I fucking will is the thing,” Character A admits, unabashedly.
Character B moving Character A’s hair out of their face to plant gentle kisses on their face.
Character B laying their head on Character A’s stomach and Character A fondly saying to them, “You’re such a baby,” while carding their fingers through their hair.
Character B snuggling up next to Character A, post-orgasm. (SIRRRR- PEHFLKEWNELKWNF)
Character A moaning Character B’s name and Character B losing their self-restraint over it. (Maybe I did it on purpose to turn him on—)
#long post#tried adding comments under the “keep reading tag” as footnotes but that didn't work out very well so here we are e;lfgmlr;emf#based on personal experience HEHEHAHAGAHA#im running out of names for these lists ffs#cat guy chronicles#just realised a lot of this is smutty than not-smutty lmfao#smut prompts#suggestive prompts#dialogue prompts#fluff prompts#otp prompts#writing scenarios#writing prompts
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can we bring back fun fics? ya know when they weren’t taken too seriously, where we were simply writing them to feel that ooshy gooshy feeling and laugh and feel. nowadays i feel like all that matters is how intense the smut is, and trust i love smut. i am its number one fan. but i feel like its become a means to popularity, only writing it because it’s following a status quo of readers who only care about fics when it includes filth. like its not wrong to want the filth. we all love the filth. but please bring back the silly little plots. give me one bed, give me unrealistic fake dating, give me a wild crossover with fandoms that shouldn’t work together but do, give me something crazy like aliens invading or dinosaurs! like all of those things can lead to tooth rotting fluff or shaky knees smut. just bring back the feels! the silliness! the reasons why we all stay up until all hours of the night devouring these works of art!!
#this isn’t an insult to anyone who prefers only smut or only fluff#don’t make it into something it’s not#i just miss when we all wrote crazy long fics that weren’t just about getting dicked down#there was more there was laughs and omgs and kicking of feet or changing of underwear#i know a lot of us don’t write like that anymore because the community is in shambles#and readers barely interact with anything#but fuck them#write for me#write for yourself#bring back the love of writing
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okay fine. maybe i'm a little obsessed with annabeth thinking all of her close relationships were transactional and conditional until she met percy. maybe i'm a little obsessed with annabeth having difficulty expressing just how significant their friendship is to his face and barely getting the chance to before he turns to gold. maybe i'm a little obsessed with annabeth's willingness to put a quest, something she's wanted since was seven, on pause to save her friend. obsessed, but only just a little.
#just letting you know that i'm obsessed a lot...tle#yes the two have my heart#yes i'll fight you#yes these two are everything to me#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo text post#pjo#percy jackson#annabeth chase#percabeth#percabeth fluff#percabeth for the win#percabeth friendship#they're besties your honor
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thinking of little omi wanting a dog but his parents tell him he has to earn it because it's a big responsibility for someone as young as he is. so, he sets up a piggy bank to save up for adoption fees. he doesn't tell his parents about it because he wants to show them when he's saved up enough money.
surely if he has the money that means he's responsible enough right?
in the following months, omi sets aside a fraction of his daily allowance to put into his piggy bank.
it's slow-going until his siblings find the piggy bank labeled with "dog savings" in omi's messy scrawl. they're so charmed by their baby brother's antics that they slip in their own spare change behind omi's back.
they never tell him of course because knowing their brother —their sweet and earnest little brother — he would want to do this on his own.
by the time omi's 10th birthday comes, his piggy bank is practically bursting at the seams. he holds it tightly in his little hands as his family sings him a happy birthday.
when it's time to blow out the candles and he has to make a wish, he lifts up the piggy bank and tells his parents how he's been saving up the past few months. that he has enough to pay for the adoption fees. that he's 10, and he's a big boy now, ready for big boy responsibilities.
"i'm responsible enough for a dog now, right?" he would then ask, eyes bright with earnest hope he tries so hard to tamp down just in case they say no. his parents would exchange surprised looks followed immediately by shaking heads and laughter. lots of laughter. omi is rightfully confused. he frowns.
are they laughing at him? the thought makes him flush in embarrassment. his dad leaves the room, still laughing. when he comes back, it's with a box that's almost a little too big for omi. the birthday cake lays forgotten, candles melted, as omi looks curiously at the box in front of him, then to his parents, and then his siblings, and then back to the box.
his older brother nudges him to open it and when he does, omi doesn't know what to do with himself. the akita puppy yipping at him in the box was too much for 10-year-old omi to bear that he starts bawling.
he's hugging the puppy to hide his tears, and in the background he hears cooing and more birthday wishes from his family.
see, his parents had always intended to give omi a dog the moment he asked. omi rarely asked for anything so whenever he did, his parents were always more than ready and excited to give it to him. however, this time, they waited until his birthday because, admittedly, they had a hard time thinking of what to get him.
it seems they made the right decision watching their son pet the akita in quiet awe. they're happy that their little boy loved his birthday present but when they see his dejected little pout a little while later followed by a sad, "i saved for nothing then..." they knew they had to make right with him (not really but what is omi if not their precious youngest).
and that's how omi ends up with not one but two puppies for his 10th birthday.
#i just think the sakusa family dotes and spoils their youngest a lot#but kiyoomi is a quiet kid who rarely lets his parents know what he wants so the rare occasion he does they're practically vibrating#in excitement to provide;;;;#they just love him a lot :(#i guess this counts as an early birthday piece :'))#advanced happy birthday kiyoomi (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)!#sakusa kiyoomi#haikyuu#sakusa headcanons#haikyuu headcanons#sakusa kiyoomi fluff#haikyuu fluff#san's blobs#san's omi brainrot
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⋆₊˚⊹♡ vox + his tendency to laugh out words
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, toxic relationship, fem!reader
words: 541
thinking about vox’s tendency to laugh out his words ♡
thinking about the way he would giggle out in a whisper how fucking pretty you are in the back of his sleek, expensive car after some corporate event, one hand creeping up the slit of your evening gown as the waning silver beams of the moon struggle to compete with the neons of the city, the knuckles of the other brushing hair back from your temples, then skimming along the curve of your cheek, the edge of your jaw, the arch of your neck in a tender caress ♡
thinking about the incredulous little laugh he’d huff out when it’s just the two of you, when you’re tangled up in each other’s limbs, damp bodies knotted together and ragged breathing entwined, when the day was rough and stressful and he found sweet salvation in your cunt, panting out in a single breathless melody how lucky he is to have you, how lucky he is to have found you, voice tinged with disbelief that he could’ve come across something so beautiful, so special, so loving in the depths of hell ♡
thinking about that cruel, caustic chuckle that claws at the back of his throat, that’s paired with a sharp glare and a sharper tongue when he asks if you’re fucking stupid, when he calls you a silly little girl, when he tells you to keep that mouth of yours quiet, because you know nothing; his three favourite responses to you digging your cute nose into something you shouldn’t be. sit down, shut up, look pretty; those are your commandments, the trail that always follows after one of his malignant orders ♡
thinking about that booming guffaw that rumbles from deep within his chest, that shakes his entire form as it splits his lips into a broad, open-mouthed grin, stretched so wide that it consumes more than half of his entire face, that it scrunches his eyes to cute little crescents and furrows his brows when something exceptionally exciting happens, when he’s so thrilled and thrumming with exhilaration that he just cannot keep it contained inside of him—a rare sight, one reserved for the company of his closest confidants, but a sight you cherish nonetheless ♡
thinking about that dark, dangerous titter that always stains those sudden declarations he has when he’s scheming, those decisive thoughts stated strong and firm and with conviction, the amusing sound only working to fortify his words—a powerful punctuation at the end of something certain—after that wickedly intelligent brain has hatched another sinister plan, brilliant but terrifying ideas worming around in his skull to form a knot of something diabolical ♡
thinking about that gentle laugh that spills past his lips unthinkingly and uncontrollably, that infuses a delicate i love you—so soft, so sweet, so goddamn sincere—any time you do something he finds cute or unexpected, the usually harsh glow of his eyes dimmed with affection. and out of all of his laughs, this one is your favourite, because this laugh is private, is special, is something just for you. this laugh is shared and sacred, melts from one mouth into another between messy tongues and pawing hands and stumbling ankles. this laugh is yours to keep, forever ♡
#vox x reader#vox x you#vox smut#vox drabble#vox fluff#vox headcanons#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#christian borle does this a LOT and i just think it’s such a cute endearing little quirk#and with vox it ranges from little chuckles to full out guffaws#he's so !!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i am so iN LOVE WITH HIM#vox i mean#christian too but#inky.vox#inky.hazbin
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Halloween prompts year 2 day 28
Thomas stared down at Bruce-no- Danny as he led him by the hand toward what he had dubbed as his "Secret Lair" which was just an old fall out shelter in the woods that had been well hidden and forgotten about. The door to it was old and still buried under years of dirt and plant growth, requiring Danny to phase them into it which made Thomas wonder how his grandson had found it in the first place.
Inside was surprisingly high tech. "You have a secret lair filled with all this equipment but don't have any weapons or armor?" Thomas asked, making mental preparations to fix that.
Danny sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and explained his only allies were two other 14 year olds who were also untrained, unarmed, unarmored, and unsuper-powered which would explain why Danny was so excited to be working with an adult vigilante who at least knew what they were doing.
The kid didn't even mind when some of his more evil or harmful rogues "stopped showing up" thankfully no one would really question the reclusive Vlad Masters "going back to Wisconsin" only to never be seen again. No one saw much of him before coming to Amity Park, it made since he would become a hermit again once he had his fill of human interaction.
And if hes later found dead in his cheese castle? Well, the body had decomposed too much to really say what killed him. His will left everything to a Daniel James Fenton/Daniel James Masters which visibly infuriated Danny. Thomas mentally patted himself on the back. It was a good call to get rid of that one. The will was a surprise, though one that can only benefit Thomas in his crusade of protecting his grandson. Its not like he can return to a timeline that no longer exists anyway.
Unfortunately this doesn't stop the bats from hearing about "Batman" operating in a city in Illinois for the past few months...
#halloween prompts#dpxdc#thomas wayne#batman#thomas wayne as batman#phantom is being the Robin to Thomas Waynes Batman and its a blend of happy fluff and broody angst#danny phantom#danny fenton#fanfiction prompts#prompts#danny knows about the killings but is willing to turn a blind eye so long as it doesnt go too far or become unreasonable#skulker and vlad both kinda deserve it tbh#skulker is a self proclaimed serial killer who sometimes skins his victims alive...kinda and you cant tell me Vlad who has canonically#kidnapped tortured expirimented on ect on danny hasnt done this before when he seems so comfortable and familiar with doing it#thomas will not speak about of the things he saw at vlads mansions and secret hideouts#lets just say there was a lot of book burnings#imagine when the batfam learn about this#damian: You have our grandfather >:(#danny: you have out dad* catmom* knifemom* all our siblings* AND alfred. i get to keep gramps!#danny: *hugs grampa batman protectively*
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grief is not a feeling, but a neighborhood. this is where i come from. everyone i love still lives here. // (insp.)
#top gun maverick#top gun#filmedit#topgunmaverickedit#filmgifs#tgmedit#top gun edit#pete maverick mitchell#tom iceman kazansky#nick goose bradshaw#top gun maverick gifs#filmtvdaily#topgundaily#stars tg edits#stars gifs#mine#the way this made me SO FUCKING SAD. WTF. ME @MYSELF: STOP IT!!!!!#what can i say tho. ever since i saw the insp i just H A D to make a top gun edit of this. had to. it was The Law#anyways hope it makes u sad too ig akdhdjfhfjfh. ur welcome <3#love how i get stuck trying to write fluff so im like i know. lemme edit a lot of maverick crying. akdhfjfhfjfhf
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date night! Barnaby planned. well. "planned"
#he got too excited and forgot that dates include doing things#he was too caught up in the euphoria of holding howdys hand#an honest mistake 💅#it turned out well tho in my mind#they had a nice candlelit (microwaved) dinner on the roof#where barnaby performed a stand-up act he wrote just for their date <3 howdy laughed so hard he knocked over their drinks#scribble salad#welcome home#welcome home puppet show#welcome home fanart#howdy pillar#barnaby b beagle#LaughingStock#OKAY SO IN MY MIND BARNABY LIKE. STRAIGHTENED HIS FUR FOR THAT SLEEK N STYLED LOOK#TO CHARM THE BUG YAKNOW#but now. oogh. i kinda like it a lot#the classic barnaby look....#im torn between the floof and the fluff.... the way i draw him and the way he Should Be...#anyway im in love with 60s/70s fashion#bring it BACK#i wanna wear campy suits and ascots and flared pants#before anyone says 'what stopping you' uhhh The Fact That No One Makes That Shit#agony.
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post-trimax vash meets stampede wolfwood
[ID: Black and white comic of Vash and Wolfwood of their Stampede versions. The comic starts with Wolfwood continuing off a conversation, saying “I didn’t mean t’say anythin’ bad to her. She just took it the wrong way. But anyway...” Wolfwood speaks with a hand gestured flippantly while Vash, who’s seated next to him, just listens. Vash thinks to himself, “Talks more about himself... Honest expressions... Immature, though he was pretty immature too.” He smiles and continues to think, “And yet...”
A panel of Vash’s eye directed now to the sky. He thinks, “Some things are bound to be the same with us...” He thinks of a memory, the version from Maximum of him and Wolfwood, back shown as they chatted underneath two moons, one moon with a hole through it. Vash continues, “Isn’t that right, W-“ His thoughts are interrupted by Wolfwood coming into a view, a close up his deadpan expression. Vash utters out “-olfwood..?” with a nervous expression. He starts to explain, “Um. Sorry if it seemed like I wasn’t listening, I was! So, let’s keep talking?”
Vash smiles and puts his hands together as he says, “okay?” Wolfwood glares at him with gritted teeth and Vash immediately remembers, “Right, he’s more short-tempered...” He continues to think, “Maybe Plan B works with him—“ before he’s grabbed by his coat collar aggressively and changes thoughts, “OK, never mind, brace for impact..!” But he’s surprised when he’s tugged instead, him and Wolfwood flops against the ground. Wolfwood puts an arm over Vash and says, “I don’t need to be entertained, blondie. If yer tired, we can go to sleep.”
Two close up panels of Wolfwood and Vash’s eyes looking at each other, Wolfwood taking off Vash’s glasses as he says, “Am I wrong?” Vash thinks to himself, “Actually... I was being genuine when I said I wanted to keep talking. I don’t feel tired at all. But, I think you know this body more than I do.”
Vash’s thoughts continue, “I can’t deny the me you’re fond of from being taken care of. And I could never deny your kindness. Even though...” Vash finally smiles and says, “You’re not wrong...” Wolfwood smiles back before tugging Vash closer and says, “Then, let’s sleep.” Vash asks, “Should we get a blanket?” Wolfwood asks, “Why?” before kissing Vash on the cheek, “I’ll keep you warm.” Vash puts his face into both his hands and flushes. Wolfwood smiles cheekily and asks, “What?” Vash responds, “I was caught off guard..” Wolfwood says, “You’ve said worse though.” Vash responds, “Did I...” The panel phases out and the dialogue returns to Vash’s thoughts. He thinks, “I want to stay a bit longer. Talk a bit longer.
You’re tired here too. The future is always going to be unfair to you. I want to protect you from it. I want to hold you close so you won’t go far.” The thoughts overlap the scene of Wolfwood now sleeping peacefully against Vash with an arm over him, Vash’s jacket draped against him as a blanket. Vash looks at him and a small thought bubble thinks, “He can fall asleep first...” His previous thoughts continue, “I know I can’t. I already had that chance.” A close up of Vash putting his hand over Wolfwood’s. He continues, “I wasn’t capable once, I can’t be sure I’d be capable a second time. And in a way...”
Vash’s thoughts continue with the back drop of the sky, Stampede’s sky of two moons without holes, “Some things are bound to be the same. But I know you’ll be loved again and again in a way I’d never know.” A split panel, one half contains the sleeping face of Wolfwood from Stampede, the other of Wolfwood from Trimax. In turn, the Vash lying down looking fondly at Wolfwood shifts to the post Trimax Vash while the other versions, Stampede and earlier Trimax, are faintly drawn next to him doing the same. Vash closes his eyes and finally drifts to sleep as the final text reads, “Goodnight, Wolfwood.”
#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun stampede#trigun maximum#trimax spoilers#was thinking damn havent done the crossovers in awhile. doodled a bunch of fluff crossover stuff and somehow#this is the one i finish dmgkg in the same vein ive been thinking a lot about the time loop au which#i also like but one thing about it that always made me wonder is vash's interference and his willingness to interfere#not to say he's a believer of fate or anything -- im a firm believer that if vash had a chance to do it again knowing what he knew he'd#obviously do things differently -- but not in the i'll solve everything for you way but in the#let's spend less time arguing and be#happier while we still got the time to#trigun universe is always going to be brutal to the both of them <pensive> but anyway to be a little kinder to him i just#let him swap for a day or so with stampede vash... maybe granted the chance to stay but vash would never do that to Himself. and#in the end thats not the wolfwood he knew. no miguel o'hara-ing this#also he nor us know if stamp ww would go thru the same fate :']!#ruporas art#trigun
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Been thinking a lot lately about how Mario and Peach might have gotten to know each other better and what subjects could have brought them closer together, so here are several little headcanons I had which I’ve combined together for this one scene. 😁
- Whenever Mario mumbles to himself or thinks out loud while working alone on a project, he usually does so in Italian.
- Peach has been fascinated by the language ever since hearing it from the bros and truly finds it beautiful.
- She adores Mario’s accent and could listen to him speak for hours.
- She learned an Italian word on purpose in the hope of catching Mario’s attention (and was secretly thrilled when it obviously did).
- She asked for possible lessons because she longs to spend more time with him and figured this was a good way to do exactly that.
- Mario was genuinely impressed that Peach could memorize something she heard only once and was touched by her will to learn.
- When around her, Mario gestures with his hands a lot and unconsciously makes all sorts of small flourishes.^^
- Peach is usually the one who initiates proximity and is just slightly less shy about standing close to him than he is to her.
- Mario’s patience and natural enthusiasm makes him a great teacher.
- They will soon develop a pattern from this and take to showing new things to one another as a recurring activity.
I love these calm, peaceful moments so much! They’re among my favorite things to draw. 🥰
#Mario#Peach#Mareach#I like them a lot... can you tell? x3#mutual affection and appreciation#I love when two characters view each other in equally high regards#especially when there's fluff and romance involved#it's just... GAH!!#my heart T_T#Super Mario Bros#fanart
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I'm sure everything will be fine.
Super duper loving The Magnus Protocol. My little horror heart is so full.
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#art#the magnus protocol#tmp#rusty quill#i have faith that they will all end up perfectly happy and so very very alive#also my brain looks like the pepe silvia conspiracy board with each episode#also lol in case anyone is new or forgot#crank it and romcom is the anomaly in my interests#im a horror girlie through and through who just happens to write a lot of fluff
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"it's just me."
you barely get a chance to roll onto your back before soonyoung's already climbing onto the bed and somewhat on top of you and your blankets, and it's only seconds later that he crashes. it's far from the first time this has happened (soonyoung is clingy and cuddly, especially when he's sleepy), but he manages to knock the wind out of you nonetheless. he rests his head on your chest, and you wiggle an arm out to curl around him as best as you can in your semi-trapped position.
"soonyoung--"
"just go back to sleep," he murmurs. "everything's fine."
you stroke his hair, thumb dipping down to graze his cheek at one point. "soonie--"
"i mean it," he says, eyes peering up in the low light to see yours. "i'm fine. just need to nap." his hand finds yours, and he wraps your arm around him as he snuggles in. he plants a kiss against your chest before resting his head against it again, eyes fluttering shut. "you can rest a little longer, too."
you settle back down after a moment, arms wrapped around soonyoung as you shut your eyes again. sometimes you swear this tiger is a teddy bear, but regardless of which he is, he's yours.
#nonranghaes.thoughts#seventeen drabbles#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#hoshi x reader#hoshi fluff#kwon soonyoung x reader#kwon soonyoung fluff#nonranghaes.svt#hi sorry i just. needed to write something short n soft#tw for medical stuff in the tags but i need to call hospice abt a catheter bc shes... getting weaker ultimately#which. i dont know if i should be Worried or if this is normal for someone in her condition yknow?#we've started tracking how much she eats bc shes never rly ate much like. Ever. and its hard to know when shes fully pulling back from food#most of the time though its just... quiet. she just sleeps a lot. i dont know what to make of it...#anyway sorry for the small vent here im just... getting through it all ig#i need a soonyoung to cuddle with and to help me feel like i can make it through this
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The Young Justice learns about a new experiment going on at Cadmus once again involving cloning and decides to go rescue the clones. They expertly break into the facility avoiding all alarms only to find out that they trigger anyway. Instead of a voice coming on over the intercoms announcing intruders though, it instead announces an escape. What?
The team continues navigating the base until they come across two kids. The older boy can't be older than 8 while the girl being tugged along behind him looks around 5. The boy narrows his eyes and his body tenses up.
"You're definitely not guards. Who are you?" He questions.
It's Superboy who steps up and says "We're the Young Justice. We came here to rescue you."
The boy doesn't seem to believe them but the girl immediately gets excited. Apparently she couldn't wait to meet real life superheroes. Especially Superboy. That means whatever Cadmus was doing with the kids, they'd already implanted knowledge of the outside world in them. That didn't bode well.
The team decides to push that to the back of their minds for now and focus on the mission. They manage to convince the boy (with the help of the girl) to come with them and they get the two out of the facility. Of course this is after they take all the information they can from the servers (Thanks Robin).
As they get both kids to the medical wing on the Watchtower, the boy introduces himself as Danny and the little girl as his sister Ellie. Connor's never seen clones with such a close bond before and he can admit he's a little jealous that he and Match don't have that kind of relationship. Still he's just happy they rescued the two.
Now to find out who they're clones of and what Cadmus wanted to use them for.
#dp x dc#dc x dp#winter's tales#danny and ellie decided to reincarnate together#they end up becoming clones#no ellie will never let danny live this down#this is mainly fluff#but the pair will unwittingly trauma dump#a lot#and everyone around them is gonna get real concerned#just what was cadmus doing to these babies!?#a second more destructive mission might be in order#meanwhile the siblings are just excited to meet a ton of heroes#that's the whole reason they picked this world after all#so yeah they're living in paradise while everyone else is constantly stressing out#over the terrible experiences they've had when they're still so young#and they say it like it's perfectly normal!#someone get dinah on the phone
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