fluffy little things

Little Wesper things

- Wylan blushing
- Wylan ducking his head to hide a grin
- Wylan giving up and actually grinning
- Wylan getting into something and just being so passionate
- Wylan playing the flute
- Wylan writing music for Jesper
- Wylan always understanding the crew’s (Nina and Jesper’s) innuendos but never letting on
- Wylan saying a really subtle but HELLA dirty innuendo one day when it’s just him and Jesper
- Jesper taking a few seconds to get it
- Jesper telling *everyone* about it
- Inej takes about an hour to get it and wishing she hadn’t
- Nina just being really proud
- But not as proud as Jesper
- Wylan running his hands through his hair when he stresses
- Wylan just sitting his hand on his head in his hair when he concentrates
- Jesper running his hands through Wylan’s curls
- Jesper calling Wylan ‘Wy’
- Wylan calling Jesper ‘Jes’
- Jesper’s bright clothes
- Wylan in knit jumpers
- Jesper learning to use his powers
- Wylan encouraging him
- Jesper helping Marya get better
- Sitting on a big couch together and still squishing really close
- One resting his head on the other’s shoulder
- Jesper pranking Wylan on April Fools
- Wylan retaliating
- Having a massive ongoing prank war
- Jesper visiting his dad on the farm
- Colm asking where Wylan is and being genuinely concerned because “He was so good for you. Is everything okay??? What happened???”
- Jesper explaining that everything’s fine Wylan just had to stay with his mum
- Jesper always bringing Marya and Wylan with him after that
- Jesper winking at Wylan
- Jesper calling Wylan 'Wylan van Sunshine’

I had so much built up Wesper fluff in my mind and I needed to share it so thanks if you got this far

Feel free to add your own too please I know I’ll probably add more at some stage

Rose x Ten, post GitF-au/fixit; angst, fluff, romance, more angst, and possibly some smut later, but this part (and all parts on ff.net) is sfw (minor exception for brief language).

(see the end of this part for notes and special thanks)

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Minuet, Part II

Part I | Part II | Part III

Twisting in his grasp, Rose cranes her neck to look at him, finally, and there he is, all furrowed brow and tight mouth and eyes glittering with anger, and god, if she wasn’t so irritated with him right now, she just might kiss him.

“That’s what you were going to do, isn’t it?” she asks instead.


Eyes widening, the Doctor only has a moment to let his mouth drop open in surprise before another gentleman steps in—time to change dance partners. Rose slips into position with the newcomer without so much as a blink or even a glance in the Doctor’s direction, never faltering in her rhythm; a quick peek at the Doctor moments later tells her that he has allowed himself to be swept up in the tide of dancers, sidling up to his new partner across the room.

Rose turns away, swirling in her partner’s arms, but she can feel the eyes of the Doctor boring into her. She shivers despite the summer heat.

“That’s beside the point,” he whispers when they meet again, touching palm-to-palm first with one hand, then the other. “I’m a Time Lord.”

“Really? First I’ve heard of it,” Rose replies drily.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, Rose. A very long time. I understand the risks.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “And stupid apes don’t.”

At least the Doctor has the decency to flinch at those words. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“Of course it is,” Rose sighs, and they both step back, granting a berth for other dancers to flit gracefully between them. “After all,” Rose continues when they reconnect, hands clasped, “I’m hardly one of the most accomplished women who ever lived, am I?”

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a better son/daughter

Summary: Exploring the effects of Fitz’s relationship with his father throughout his relationship with his best friend, in three parts.

“You’ll be better, you’ll be smarter
And more grown up and a better daughter
Or son and a real good friend
You’ll be awake and you’ll be alert
You’ll be positive though it hurts
And you’ll laugh and embrace all your friends
You’ll be a real good listener
You’ll be honest, you’ll be brave
You’ll be handsome, you’ll be beautiful
You’ll be happyYour ship may be coming in
You’re weak but not giving in”

– Rilo Kiley, “a better son/daughter”

A/N: Started writing this after the reveal about Fitz’s abusive father. The first scene of the third part is set after that episode, but there aren’t any references to the framework. I also wanted to address Jemma leaving after the pod in the context of Fitz’s father without glossing over her own trauma, so I hope that comes across.
Thanks to @itsavolcano​ as always for the beta and for the help with the ending! She suggested “happiness and kids,” so thank her for the fluff!

tw: verbal abuse mention, PTSD, panic attacks. 

Read below or at ao3!

i.  in the middle before we knew that we’d begun

Jemma has never suffered from panic attacks before but she recognizes the symptoms easily enough. She carefully charts the time and date of each occurrence, what she assumes the instigator has been, what it feels like: accelerated heart rate, trembling, sensations of smothering. Her lungs cannot draw enough air and she hates herself for it because she had, after all, drawn just enough air.

Her lungs had sucked up the oxygen meant to be shared and now she sits, back flat against her door, trying to hoard all the oxygen left in the world because she just can’t breathe.

When the attack passes, she presses her forehead against the side of her bed and cries, furious at herself because there’s no reason for her to be this weak. Her best friend is still recovering in a hospital bed because of what she’d done to him and the doctors told her he might never be the same. But she is perfectly fine.

She thinks, bizarrely, that she wants to go home. Not to her parents’ bright house in Sheffield, not to her cramped but familiar bunk on the Bus, but back to some amorphous feeling that’s already fading from her mind. Back to when everything in her world had been science and Fitz and cheap pizza at midnight, notes and schematics scattered along the floor. When her heart had been whole; when she hadn’t known it was possible to survive yet still feel the pressure of water drowning her every day.

Now, she cries so much the salt of her tears burns against the back of her throat and it tastes like inhaling the ocean. This is one truth she wishes she’d never learned.


Jemma drums her fingers nervously against her thigh. When Fitz had been in his coma, she held his hand, placed her ear against his chest to feel his heartbeat. Once, in a moment of weakness, she had crawled into bed next to him, holding him against her like her arms could keep him tethered to this world.

But now that he’s awake she retreats until there’s more space between them than there’s ever been. His confession mixes with her guilt until it’s a living, breathing entity that takes up all the space in his room.

When have they ever run out of things to say? When had their conversations ever been so one-sided?

“Fitz,” she says softly, speaking to him like he might disappear. Because what she fears more than anything is that he actually has. “Would you like me to call your mum?”

He turns to look at her for the first time since she sat down and shakes his head quickly, eyes wide.

“Don’t you think she ought to know?” Jemma persists.

Fitz stares at her as if sure she can read his mind but is refusing to. “Don’t w-w-want her to-to-to—” He cuts himself off with a growl, fisting the arm that’s not still in a cast into his bedding.

“You don’t want her to worry?” Jemma finishes for him.

Fitz nods, but he’s staring off again, no longer meeting her eyes. They sit like this in silence for awhile, until Trip stops by to ask Jemma a question. She excuses herself and her heart clenches painfully at the way Fitz looks so dejected.

She goes back to her room after helping Trip in the lab, not having the energy to spend more stilted hours with Fitz. He wants her with him all the time but he never seems happy when she’s around. To calm herself, she meditates on a list of her sins and thinks up apologies she’ll never be brave enough to deliver.

Dear Skye, I’m sorry for taking the last breath. I know how much Fitz means to you. I know I’ve been impossibly selfish.

Dear Coulson, I’m sorry I wasn’t smart enough. I’m sorry we weren’t field ready. I’m sorry I stole your best engineer from you.

Dear Linda, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know he’s all you have. I know I promised to take care of him in the field. I know you worried so much but you let him go anyway. I know you trusted me, and I know you never will again. I’m so sorry.

Dear Fitz —

But here her tears spill onto her cheeks and she can’t finish. There is no universe, she thinks, in which she can fully articulate what she feels when she looks at her best friend, when she hears him struggling to finish a simple sentence. There will never be enough words to fill up the space left between his smile and her scream.

And then there are times she looks at him, quiet and sweet in sleep, and feels a burst of anger because he made her take the oxygen, because he thought after everything she could just leave him behind, like she cares as little as his father had.

The self-hatred that immediately follows the anger is just another pinprick. She barely feels it.


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anonymous asked:

Can you do something with the nordics and their s/o going to a pond and feeding ducks but the ducks attack

Denmark/Simon Densen- He should have seen this coming but he didn’t and oh my God is that a piece of his shirt when did it bite him there help him don’t just la u g h

Finland/Tino Väinämöinen- It would be a shock that the animals would turn on him! Please! Please little fluffy things don’t do that! Here’s all the seeds just stop! At least he has the mind to shield you form the uproar.

Iceland/Emil Steilsson- He will glare those fuckers down, let them try to attack him. Or more importantly let them try to attack you…Really he’s just gonna run when they chase him, try to get it on camera for blackmail. 

Norway/Lukas Bondevik- It’s also unlikely they would attack him rather than just try to pile on him to get the yummy things he brought. Buuut, if it does get out of hand then he just tries to give in and then get you to take pictures while it’s docile.

Sweden/Berwald Oxenstierna- The ducks do not attack. The ducks stay calm. They know. They know.


NOTE: FLUFF!!! Awkward Sami  fluff.. And it’s kinda lowkey a little steamy too. I don’t know where this came from or if I’ll add to it later and make it a multi part thing, but.. For now, here it is.



Originally posted by msgem

You were in your own world, like always, humming along softly to Ed Sheeran as you sprawled on the brightly colored beach blanket in the hot Florida sun. You weren’t even sure why, but you found yourself looking up, over the rim of the Ray Bans shading your eyes and as the group of men walked past, you swallowed hard and licked your lips, fanning yourself a little.

Had the sun actually just  gotten hotter?

You weren’t sure, but when you reached out for the mojito sitting next to you, you were taking a sip when your eyes met his. And you promptly gaped when you realized exactly who he was.

He gave you this polite smile and you took a bigger sip of your mojito and daringly, you gave him a wink before settling back onto your blanket and going back to your reading.. You must have drifted off to sleep, it wasn’t a hard task, with the salt water hanging heavily on the cooling breeze as it blew, caressing your skin.. The sound of the waves and your ‘relaxing’ playlist filling your ears probably had a lot to do with it too.. Either way, you were soon being tapped awake carefully and you rolled over, rubbing your eyes, stretching your limbs and flashing a smile you hoped was seductive, you searched for words for a minute, finally asking, “Is something wrong?”

“Do you have any sunscreen? You’re burning a little.”

His voice was almost enough to make you want to drop your panties right then and there and you realized it then, your skin was hot… Painfully hot.

You palmed your face and laughed softly, digging through your bag and holding it out to him. “Here.. Can you get my back? I can’t.. I really can’t reach it all.”

He gave a nod, motioned for you to turn around and the second his hands touched your skin, coating it with the cooling relief of the thick creamy sunscreen, you bit back a whimper at the way his hands felt against your skin… He must have heard the sound because he asked quietly, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It just feels good.” you managed to mumble and when his hands dipped lower, moving over the flimsy strings of your neon pink bikini top, you bit your lip as he asked, “This is okay, right?”

“Please?” the word was choked from your lips and it sounded one hell of a lot more needy than you anticipated it to sound. Just the sheer touch of his large and rough palms against your smooth and reddened skin felt so fucking erotic.. You were starting to puddle just at the way he touched you.

He groaned quietly, but cleared his throat. “To get your lower back you’re gonna have to.. Lie down.” and it was kind of cute, he almost sounded nervous in a way.. The huskiness in his voice was thicker and you really felt yourself getting wetter.

You nodded and settled onto the brightly colored blanket and when his hands crept down to your lower back, you bit your lip, maybe you wiggled slightly on the brightly colored blanket, and he asked you, “ How long were you asleep?”

“I have no idea.”

“You’re really burnt.” he remarked and you gave a nod. “It’s really hot out here.”

… where the fuck even did that come from, Einstein?… you thought to yourself as you settled in. When you felt his fingertips grazing the curled vines of your rib/hip tattoo, you squirmed a little because it felt good.

“It’s a squid.”

“Yolo.” you joked and he laughed as he held out your bottle of sunscreen. You took it and then found yourself gazing at him, licking your lips slowly.. “So… Do you do this often?” you asked the question in a flirty and soft tone and his cheeks colored a little. He shook his head, you saw clearly when his eyes left your eyes and darted down, lingering on your lips and then he gave a quiet laugh. “Actually, I don’t do this at all.”

“What’s your name?”

… ooh, good… play it smooth… god knows with all the crazies who flock to the men who are pro wrestlers for a living, it’s probably a refreshing change… and it’s not like you don’t have eighty million of his t shirts in your closet at home… and the thought had you blushing a little.

He chuckled and then answered, “It’s Sami… what’s yours?”

“ ( yourfirstname ).” you answered, smiling back at him. You knit your brows in concern and he asked you what was up and you nodded to his shoulders and back.

“You’re burning worse than me.” you dug out the sunscreen again and didn’t even ask,  you applied it to your hands, rubbing them together and kneeling in front of him, you started to rub down his chest, biting your lip when he barely refrained from groaning as your fingertips dragged slowly down his chest. Your eyes met his and you gave a soft laugh.

…. her laugh is addictive… he thought to himself as you motioned for him to turn around, and you squeezed out more of the creamy sunscreen, making him hiss sharply as the cold stuff hit his hot skin. And when your hands started to move slowly down his back, after you’d taken it upon yourself to straddle his hips and start really giving him a massage as you applied the lotion, he barely refrained from groaning a little louder.

You stopped. “I didn’t hurt you?”

He chuckled softly as he thought to himself, nope… but if I get any harder things will be awkward when I have to get up… and quickly answered you, a slightly stammered, “N-no.” as you bit your lip and continued to make circular motions along his shoulders and then down the center of his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles against your hands but wishing that it wasn’t just for a massage.

He heard Led Zepplin playing from your long forgotten earbuds around the same time as he realized you were softly humming Stairway to Heaven under your breath as you rubbed him down. “You have a pretty voice.”

“I don’t.” you insisted, laughing sheepishly as he insisted that you did.

“Trust me.. Me humming is not me singing. When I sing, it kinda sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Especially this one Beatles song..” you were babbling and you quickly counselled yourself to shut the hell up.

“Yeah, well.. I think your voice is pretty.” he insisted and you felt your skin heating up.. Only this time, it wasn’t from the sunscreen.

“Thanks.” you finally managed just as you finished massaging the creamy coconut scented sunscreen into his back and throats cleared from above.

“We were wondering where the hell you went, Zayn.”

“You gonna play volleyball with us? Or be lazy?”

“ Ah think dat we have interrupted somethin.”

“I’ll come down in  a few minutes.” Sami was a little tense, he sat up and gave his friends a slightly irritated glance as he looked at you and then asked, “I…”

“You what?” you were leaning in a little.

“I was wondering… Do you.. Maybe.. Fuck…” Sami laughed at himself and you stood, holding out your hand. “You were going to ask me if I wanted to walk down with you? So we could talk a little more?” you guessed, mentally kicking yourself for even presuming that he’d want you hanging around.

But he let you think that you were pulling him up and stood, nodding. “Actually, yeah.”

And now, you were the one who was shocked speechless. You smiled brightly and nodded, your hand slipping into his as you walked down the beach, towards where his friends all had a volleyball net set up.. “I’d actually love to.” you answered as you looked up at him and smiled.

anonymous asked:

I'm living for the phone hcs oh my ! Could you possibly do it for Genji and/or Gabriel/Reaper ? <3

I’ll give a break on the angst for these fluffy little things. <3


  • His lock screen isn’t a picture of you, per se. But it is a photograph that you took.
  • His background would likely be a picture of you looking away from the camera, a photo he took of you unsuspectingly.
  • Your name in his phone is “ あなた “, or “anata” (darling).
  • He has a personalized picture on the background of your text conversation.

Gabriel Reyes

  • His ringtone is something that you recorded for him for his birthday, just a cheesy little song.
  • He adores it so much that he uses it for everything, doesn’t really care if people hear it.
  • You are “Angelito Mío” in his phone, accompanied by a picture of your face.
  • His lock screen is simple, a black screen with the date you two met scribbled in white.
Like a Movie Scene

Title: Like a Movie Scene

Castiel x Reader

Word Count: 1175

Warnings: it’s just super fluffy.

A/N: This is a request for the lovely @bookcaseninja. Thank you for sending this one in. I love this song. <3 Sorry if it doesn’t match it perfectly. This is what I came up with. Haha. It’s just a goofy little fluffy thing.

Request: “Could you please write a Cas x reader based on the song “Gotta Be Somebody” by Nickelback? Thanks!”

Originally posted by hiddened

“How about her, Cas? She seems cute.” Dean exclaimed as he shoved his phone in Cas’ face. Dean had created numerous dating profiles for Cas online in an attempt to cure the angel’s loneliness. Cas glanced down at the slender brunette. She was very pretty, but Cas shook his head anyway.

“She’s wearing too much eye make up.” Cas was running out of excuses. None of these women were doing it for him. Part of it was because they were complete strangers, and Castiel wasn’t the best with first impressions. But, there was another reason. A much more important reason.

He had already found someone.

Castiel’s gaze shot over to you as you sat at the opposite side of the table, thumbing through a large book on ancient spells. His blue eyes scanned over your skin, the light glow of the lights reflecting perfectly off the light shine in your hair. Even without make up, without any chemical contamination, you were stunning. And after you had saved him during an attack from Raphael’s minions, he had noticed your true strength. You were a force to be reckoned with, a deadly storm. And he loved every part of it.

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Steve and Bucky giving each other some sort of touch or kiss whenever one is leaving a room.

Steve sitting on the couch waiting to start up a movie, Bucky going to get some snacks from the kitchen, Bucky running his hand through Steves hair on the way past,

When Steve leaves on his morning run he wakes Bucky up with a kiss on the forehead I will be back in an hour at most is whispered into the birds nest that is Buckys bed head,

Bucky leaving the gym to take a shower and Steve getting a light punch in the shoulder,

They move past each other clearing rooms on a mission, they grasp arms,

Even getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom means a kiss to the temple,

Every time one leaves, they say everything through touch that they can’t bring themselves to say out loud; I’m scared you won’t be here when I get back // What if this is just a dream // I love you so, so much - probably too much // What if I never see you again? // goodbye.

But when they do come back its always accompanied with a smile and an I’m back, I’m here, it’s just me, Hello.

Voltron AU: Wings 03

(Many thanks to @ladydouji and @eastofthemoon. We had fun talking about these.)

Humans are born with wings, downy, fluffy little things, but their wings usually aren’t strong enough for them to start learning to fly until they’re around seven or eight.

That doesn’t stop little ones from trying to fly, and parents often put “wing hats” on their wings to make sure they don’t get themselves in trouble or hurt their wings trying to fly too soon. They’re just soft cloth or knitted covers that fit over their wings ad make them too unwieldy to even try to fly.

Sometimes in really cold places, even adult will wear wing hats, although it’s more common to tuck wings under bulky coats that are designed to accommodate them.

Needless to say, Hunk has pictures of Lance as a toddler wearing brightly colored and stripped wing hats, courtesy of Lance’s mom, and he threatens to show them to people when Lance is really being a pain.

Wing adornments are also fairly common, as is dying feathers, although molt patterns are generally pretty random and can lead to some strange looking wings as the color molts out in spots.

There are a few spots on the wing that can be pierced without doing any harm, and Hunk, Shiro, and Pidge all had their wings pierced before they joined the Garrison.

Hunk and Pidge both had a piercing in each wing. Pidge liked sparkly studs and occasionally clusters of dangling chains with little gemstones on the end. Hunk liked polish stone studs, and he would happily tell anyone who mentioned liking them (or mentioned them at all), all about the geology of the stones.

Shiro was kind of a punk. He had three piercings in one wing and two in the other, and he liked metal studs and occasionally chains strung between the piercings.

Lance never pierced his wings because he was worried about it slowing him down, but he had a helix piercing, and his favorite stud was a tiny stone turtle that came from Hunk, although he had a silver one shaped like a rain drop that he really liked too. Lance would also sometimes wear light, chain meshes over his wings. He liked the sparkle and swore the weight was good strength training for his wings, although it weighted almost nothing.

All of their piercings are long closed up. Garrison dress code doesn’t allow piercings because they’re a safety issue when they’re doing combat training or physical conditioning. There is no paladin dress code, but the prospect of having a piercing ripped out during a fight has so far swayed all of them from redoing the piercings.

Keith never had any piercings. He just never cared. He liked being able to fly fast so he didn’t see any reason to do something that might slow him down.