boop otp

Fluff-Themed Prompts

In celebration of hitting 8000+ followers, here’s a few fluff-themed prompts!

  • Person A doesn’t talk much, but sometimes they shyly whisper cute/kind things into Person B’s ear whenever they think Person B needs it.
  • Person A wins a big stuffed animal for Person B at an amusement park and offers to carry it for them. Person B says they’ll carry it themself, and carries it around smugly.
  • While on a date, Person A very shyly touches Person B’s hand and Person B reassuringly (and tightly) holds Person A’s hand
  • Person A gently running their fingers through Person B’s hair
  • Your OTP sharing a large blanket together on a cold day
  • Person A walking around doing normal things while carrying Person B on their back
  • Person A head-booping Person B
  • Your OTP’s faces smooshed next to each other

can you believe thinking Clarke doesn’t look at lexa like the center of the universe?? Please take your heteronormative googles out and take a look at this. 

Originally posted by steveroqerz

Originally posted by cupcakeshit

Originally posted by with-my-heart-on-a-trigger

Originally posted by moonlight-in-pvris

Originally posted by fuckyeahclexa

EDIT: Almost all the gifs without source are from hedawolf the other from various people but NOT MINE

Okey but what if Guang-Hong and Leo are actual besties?

Imagine one of them finally doing that quadruple on the routine, and calling the other one in Skype like “OMG I DID IT!!! I DID IT” And the other one is like “YOU DID IT!!!! YOU DID IT!!!!!!!!!”.

Imagine them taking photos of each other’s faces when the Skype videocall glitches and uploading it in social media. Imagine them starting a war of creep shots.

Imagine them being asked “are you two dating?” And them going like “nah we’re just besties” and then walking away holding hands.

Imagine them, after one of the events of the season, cuddling on the hotel bed bc they just see each other so little irl.


They’re on a road. A winding ribbon of highway never ending in the soft pitch of night. 

Great evergreen trees are silhouetted on either side of them, blowing past with every mile the Impala swallows, hulking and ominous in the night. 

They can see the moon out the windshield, a silvery Cheshire smile hanging in the sky, surrounded by thousands of tiny stars, glittering. 

They’re on a road, and Castiel takes Dean’s hand. A practiced slide of fingers finding the spaces they belong between one another. It’s easy, and it’s subtle, and it’s normal. Dean smiles.

They’re at a diner. It’s the third day of a hunt. The smell of grease and old vinyl hangs heavy around them, and the menus are laminated and sticky. Sam is boxed up against the window - though he doesn’t seem to mind - and Cas is settled in next to him. 

Sam’s on the phone. His hazel eyes grazing the menu as he listens to Charlie prattle on about a lead she found. He finds a corner of the menu where the lamination is beginning to weaken and picks at it. Dean watches him absently.

They’re at a diner, and Cas’ eyes find Dean’s across the table like they have so many times before. They’re soft, and endless, and nestled comfortably between deepening laugh lines. 

“They have fresh cherry pie.” Castiel points out. 

Dean’s chest feels tight. Even after all this time. “Yeah,” he says. And Cas smiles. 

They’re in a scant motel room. Dean’s situated on the toilet seat while Cas busies himself with the first aid kit. The collar of Dean’s shirt is slick with blood, his or the vamp’s he isn’t sure, but if the concerned vee Cas’ brows have fallen into is anything to go by, Dean can probably wager a pretty educated guess. 

The light hums overhead, dim and yellow, and the sharp smell of antiseptic fills the air as Castiel readies a cotton ball. He turns to Dean. Takes Dean’s chin between his fingers and tilts Dean’s head back.

“This may sting.” He states, unnecessarily. Dean nods, and Cas dabs at the wound just over Dean’s eye with his nose scrunched in concern, and fingers trembling. 

When the wound is clean, and stitched, Castiel tapes gauze over it. 

They’re in a scant motel room, and Cas cups Dean’s face in his hands. Brushes their lips together. 

“I don’t like to see you hurt.” Cas mutters, thumbs stroking up and down Dean’s cheeks.

Dean shrugs. Casts a weak smile up at Castiel. “All part of the job, remember?”

Cas’ eyes go soft. “Perhaps we should consider alternative career paths.”  

They’re at the bunker. Their room is dark, the sheets cool against their bare skin. Dean lays, melting into the memory foam, with his eyelids falling heavy, and Cas a warm line against his back. 

Cas finds Dean’s neck with his lips, and Dean shudders.

They’re at the bunker, and Cas noses at the hairline along Dean’s neck, his arms curling tighter around Dean’s waist. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” He mutters into Dean’s skin.

Dean’s lips twitch at the corners, his brain clouding over with sleep. “I love you, Castiel Winchester.” He garbles back. And then he’s asleep.