#seriously fluffy

[caitlynkirammans-wife]

Caitlyn x GN!Reader Domestic Fluff ❤️

No clue on word count but it’s not a long one. SFW.

Imagine you come home from a long day at your lab and Caitlyn Kiramman is waiting for you because she (for once) left the station on time. It’s just barely an hour past sundown and the lights glow softly inside your shared home in a neighborhood removed from all the crime. Caitlyn was immensely thorough to comb over the real estate available before finding yours current abode. The war between the Zaunites and Pilties rages on but you both know you’ll always find your peace and solace as long as you are together. A personal favorite of your own solaces being the enthusiastic welcome home kiss Cait gives you in the kitchen once you’re ready to prepare dinner.

A collaborative effort is made for dinner- which ends up being a larger meal than either of you expected. Caitlyn is a bit relieved at the sight of leftovers, knowing she’ll be able to take some of the delicious food into work so she can enjoy it whenever a glimpse of a lunch break may occur. She sighs happily as she stores it. An adoring smile curls itself across your lips seeing her face so content and relaxed. Walking over to plant a kiss on her her soft cheek, you mention you’re headed off to get ready for bed. Caitlyn murmurs that she’ll be in soon as your lips leave her cheek. You pad away towards the bathroom to shower as your shift in the labs today left you a bit grimier than you’d prefer.

In the kitchen Caitlyn has set out her investigation’s brief for herself tomorrow morning to read over and analyze at breakfast. She hums to herself as she tidies up the kitchen, scanning the space one last time with tired eyes. Her drifting gaze confirms it clean to her satisfaction and she nods to herself. The tall woman turns to head into the bedroom striding with grace, despite how much her lanky body ached. She’s too tired to ice her bruises gifted to her by the rather unfriendly man who had been attempting to coerce her into taking a bribe about the investigation she was running. The deep ache tells her she’ll be needing to ice it before heading outside tomorrow. As she enters the bedroom, Caitlyn pauses in the doorway to give a glance to the bathroom. The water has stopped running in the shower but the sink is still running and she inwardly bemoans the missed opportunity to see your naked form before it’s covered by nightclothes. Along that train of thought, she continues her walk to put on her own nightclothes. Once in the luxuriously soft clothing she turns to the bed. Caitlyn notices that there’s a small pile of papers on the bed. Her curiosity guides the off-duty Sheriff to crawl into the bed and read over the first page of the stack. Her elegant hands lift the pile of papers, five pages collectively she notes, and she stares at the messily scrawled text on the front page of the pile. After she reads the first sentence mentally the door to the bathroom opens and you shuffle past her to flop face first onto the bed next to Caitlyn.

“Hello my darling, what might these notes be about?” Caitlyn queries with an amused tone. She’s particularly fond of how the ungraceful flop forces a soft hmmph from your lungs and can’t resist letting the amusement flood through her question.

“Those are the notes an assistant made today about the history of Targon.” Your slightly muffled voice informs her as she lightly runs an affectionate hand across your back.

“Oh, Targon, isn’t that where your team’s new member is from?” Caitlyn ponders as you roll onto your side, looking up at her with sleepy features.

“Mhmm they’re well-educated about the history of their region and are actually going to co-lead an expedition to the Solari in order to research some woman named Leona and that’s all I know, love.” You respond before fully rolling onto your back and adjusting so that your head now rests on soft, freshly laundered pillows. Your eyelids quickly turn heavy as the relaxation of being in your warm home with Caitlyn by your side sets in. Cait’s gentle hand strokes your cheek as she notices how your eyelids flutter in their struggle to remain open.

“Researching fascinating women now are we?” Her smooth voice teases you. She delicately places a kiss on your lips as you give the barest hint of a nod in response to the poke. Caitlyn chuckles lightly seeing how your face scrunches at the slight tickle of her dark silky hair on your body.

“I love you.” She murmurs her eyes soaking in the soft sleepiness of you before she carefully gets up to do her nightly routine. As you drift off completely you hear hear the vague melodic tones of her humming a love song on her way to the bathroom. You’ve never slept better than you do knowing Caitlyn Kiramman loves you.

[garbagewhump]

You all have @pepperonyscience to thank for this tooth rotting fluff.

There was an understated luxury to lying in bed when you normally should have gotten up an hour ago. Stretching his limbs out and rearranging the comforter to better cover him from head to toe, Thom sighed and melted into the mattress.

While his work schedule had changed, there was still a delicious, forbidden feel because his sleep schedule hadn’t yet caught up, assuming he still needed to be awake at 4:30 every morning. But no, he could sleep in, lie in, the whole day. Glorious.

Was this how most people felt about weekends? He’d worked them nearly his entire adult life, so he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he felt good.

He sighed again as he found a fresh cool spot on his pillow and rubbed his face against it, relishing in the chill.

Maybe he’d even go back to sleep. He could. No need for actual clothes or to deal with people or his boss demanding more of him. The whole day was his.

A heavy weight launched itself onto his back, but he didn’t dare move.

“Mrew.” Little paws kneaded his sleep shirt, claws digging in to keep balanced as he breathed. “Mrew!”

“Hey, stupid,” he mumbled, half into the pillow. “If you wanna get fed, you got to let me up.”

“Mrew.”

That was not a concern, apparently, because Ringo, purring up a storm, settled himself between Thom’s shoulder blades.

You know what? He knew going into this cat owning thing that this might happen. Warmth on his back, a small head resting against his neck, Thom slipped back under the pull of unconsciousness.

——

Ten minutes didn’t last too long on paper. It was a few songs. A moderate mile run time. A hard boiled egg.

An at home pregnancy test.

As Dale paced the length of the bathroom and bounced his leg and heaved yet another sigh, he realized ten minutes was indeed a very long time.

“You’d think you were the one about to carry this thing,” Maddie quipped from the toilet. Her fingers twisted together betrayed her light tone, a faint trembling as she fought a more obvious sign of her own emotions.

Scrubbing his anxiety from his face, he ran his hands through his hair to fix the stray hairs. Then, he knelt down before her, between her legs, and took her hands in his, gently prying her fingers apart.

She shut her eyes and leaned her head back. He kissed her hand before pressing it to his face.

“Is it done yet?” Maddie demanded.

A glance to his watch said no. “Just a few more minutes.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

Despite her tone, she was smiling, her beautiful lips caught in her teeth as she fought her own amusement.

A minute of silence dragged itself across chill linoleum. He wanted to check his watch again. The desire itched and scratched at him.

In his peripheral vision, he saw her reach for the pregnancy test on the counter.

“I love you,” she said abruptly. “There’s no one else I’d rather pee on a stick for...”

His breathing hitched.

“‘Daddy.’”

Barking laughter escaped in a rush. Dizzying, exhilarating, all encompassing. Breathlessly he threw his head back and let his joy spring free. “Oh, honey,” he whispered, before he leaped forward and scooped her off the toilet, whirling her around the bathroom.

“Let me down, you daft fool!” she giggled, but her legs wrapped tighter around his waist and she brought their foreheads together.

“As you wish, ‘mommy’.”

——

Today kind of really blowed so far, all things considered. She’d woken up with cramps and tenderness, a surefire sign her uterus was about to throw a tantrum, her favorite socks had a hole in them, she tried to make pancakes for her mom and dad before they went to work and instead made crispy discs of half baked batter, and her boyfriend was oh so supportive and responded to her rant with a stupid pun about wells and vacuums. As much as she appreciated a good pun, there was a time and a place, and she’d been hoping for something more empathetic.

So when the phone rang while she scrubbed the charcoal remains of her culinary failure, she sulked and calmed herself by pretending she was interrogating the pan. It finally went to voicemail and she tuned it out handily with another jet of soapy water.

“Who sent you to sabotage Project Pancake?” She hissed, “What do you know?”

As she heard keys turning in the front door, she hastily stopped her vigorous interrogation and wiped down the worst of the spilled water.

And to top the day off, she had put off folding her laundry so her clothes, delicates and all, were still in a pile on the couch.

“Sorry! I lost track of time!” With still wet hands she hastily gathered them up and sped them into her room, chucking them on her bed. She buried her face in her hands. This day sucked.

To wait out her humiliation over her father seeing her underthings, she folded and hung up her clothes until she didn’t feel her ears burning.

Finally, she could leave her room.

Her mom and dad were standing in the living room in that very distinct “we are about to have a Discussion” pose. Oh no.

She tried to think of anything she’d done wrong that could justify it. Did they know she hadn’t broken up with Liam? No. She’d been careful, he’d been careful. She was up to date on her rent and she hadn’t missed a phone or car payment. And other than Liam, she was a good daughter and good roommate.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” her mom suggested.

Her dad moved over to the answering machine and hit play.

“Hello, Miss Summer Ramirez, we are calling to inform you we have accepted your application to Pepperdine University—”

She tackled her father first, then half dragged him closer to her mother, shrieking the whole time.

“Pepperdine! I’m going to Pepperdine!”

“I’m so proud of you, sunshine!”

She had to pack. She had to buy things for her dorm. She had to get a loan. Sobering quickly, she stopped shaking and dragging her parents around the room. “Mom. I need your help.”

Her mom’s laugh, the quirks of her brow, were hers, even if there was no blood, and seeing her own expression mirrored was proof enough. “Not laughing at my binders and planners now, are we?”

“You can color-coordinate my underwear!” she promised. “I’m going to Pepperdine!”

[lavenderandvanilla]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade Additional Tags: mystrade, Mystrade Prompt Challenge, Anniversary, Tooth-Rotting Fluff Summary:

It's a special day according to Mycroft. Greg really has no clue.

For @lmirandas for her generous donation to @markgatissbirthdayproject. Liz requested the fluffiest of fluff. I hope this suits. :)

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

Unintentional prompt: “They just snog with their arms like limp jellyfish.”

“Did I mention how much I hate camping?” Dean grumbles. “Who needs this back to nature crap.”

On the other side of the campfire Sam looks at Cas and rolls his eyes. “We’ve been over this.”

“Seventeen times,” Cas says under his breath.

Sam snorts, then continues. “The coven lives deep in these woods. There are no roads, and it is more than a day’s hike. So we camp.”

Dean isn’t done complaining. “And seriously, it’s August, isn’t it supposed to be summer? It’s freezing!”

Barely holding on to the calm tone of voice, Sam says, “It’s northern Michigan, not Miami. You’re in the woods, and it cools off at night. That’s why we have a fire.” He shoots Cas a look that clearly means It’s your turn to take care of the baby, then stands and says, “I’m going to bed. We’ve still got about ten miles to go in the morning.”

“Goodnight Sam,” Cas says.

Dean grunts and throws a pine cone into the fire.

Cas sighs as Sam disappears into the darkness. “Do you have up be so…disagreeable?”

Smiling at Cas, Dean says quietly, “I really do hate camping. But I was also trying to get him to go back to the tent.”

“Next time try, ‘hey Sam, I’d like to be alone with my boyfriend.’” Cas says drily.

Dean bristles. “Cas…”

Cas puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder, instinctively finding the place his handprint used to be. Their eyes lock.  “It’s alright, Dean. You’ll tell Sam when you’re ready.” He slides his hand up Dean’s shoulder to the back of his neck, pulling him close for a kiss. Dean relaxes.

“Look up,” Cas says, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice.

The sight almost makes the tent and the hike and the cold worth it. “Cas,” Dean breathes. Cas laughs and pulls him against his chest so they can both look at the sky together.

“The Milky Way,” says Cas. “I can’t hear the stars sing anymore, but I still appreciate their beauty. And I remember fragments of their songs,” he says wistfully.

“Sing to me,” says Dean. He looks at the sky, holding the best part of heaven in his arms.

“Dean, look out!”

Dean looks up when Sam yells, but he’s too late to escape the spell. At the last second Cas dives at him, trying to push him out of the way, and he’s caught in the blast too. The witch laughs, a horrible, high-pitched laugh, then snaps her fingers. There is a disorienting flash of red light, and by the time their vision clears the witch–and the rest of her coven–is gone.

“Great,” mutters Sam.

Dean and Cas look at each other. At first it is unclear exactly what the spell did. They look normal enough. “You okay, Cas?” asks Dean.

Cas nods slowly. “I think so.” But when he attempts to stand the problem becomes apparent at once.

He has no control of his arms. At all. They actually flop from his shoulders as if all the bones are gone, but when Sam grabs his wrist Sam can–thankfully–still feel bones there. Cas feels…nothing.

Dean’s eyes widen with panic as he tries–and fails–to move his hands. He turns at the waist and his arms follow in the same direction, and since he can’t stop his momentum he lands directly on his face. Sam is overcome by a fit of laughter.

Dean glares.

“I’m sorry,” Sam gasps between fits of mirth. “But if you could only see yourself…” A thought occurs to him, and he pulls his cellphone out of his pocket.

“Dammit, Sam!”

“Sorry Dean, but you’re going to want to see this later. Or, I’m going to want to see this later. Over and over and over…”

Dean growls and tries to move toward Sam. He has limited control of his legs–they move, if weakly–but without his arms it’s difficult to make much progress. Sam laughs and backs away, filming everything.

Cas clears his throat. “If I could interrupt this bit of brotherly love…”

“Oh. Right. Witches. Uh…it may not be the safest plan ever, but I think I’m going to have to leave you two here and go after them myself. They can’t have gotten far. And hopefully I only need one of them. Any of them should do. We can hunt the rest down once you’re…better.”

Dean and Cas look at each other. It’s probably true that any of the witches can break the spell. And they trust Sam to be persuasive. They aren’t safe anywhere, and if they go with Sam they will only slow him down. “Go,” they say together. Dean adds, “And hurry.”

Sam looks from Dean to Cas and back again. “That was weird,” he says. Then he’s gone, chasing after the witches.

“What now?” Cas asks, truly looking around for the first time.

The house is surprisingly large and bright for housing a coven of witches deep in a forest. They are in what looks like a family room, complete with flatscreen tv and comfortable looking couches. It’s disordered from the fight–a bookshelf lays on the floor, a painting hangs crooked–but still it’s not a bad place to wait for Sam to capture one of the witches. The picture window overlooks a blue, glassy lake and towering pine trees.

“Think we can get onto one of the couches?” Dean asks with a wink.

Cas’s eyeroll is epic. “You are trapped in an unfamiliar house belonging to an unfamiliar coven of powerful witches, any of whom could return at any moment. You’ve been hit by a spell and can’t move your arms. You have very little control of your legs. Your brother is risking his life to fix you…and your first thought is ‘hey, there’s a couch. Let’s make out.’”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Dean grins. “Come on, Cas, lighten up. What else are we going to do? Build a defensive perimeter? Gather weapons? Prepare a healthy salad for Sam to enjoy when he gets back?”

A smile tugs at the corners of Cas’s mouth. “When you put it that way…”

Getting onto the couch is not easy. They discover that although they can move their legs a bit, walking is impossible. With their arms swinging every which way, they overbalance and topple over as soon as they try to move. So they get to their knees and do a rather ridiculous looking sideways shuffle, and then one at a time roll onto the couch.

As soon as they’re on the couch they realize it isn’t going to work. Cas is face down, trying desperately to roll over, but Dean is sprawled across his legs. Dean struggles to sit up but all he can do is push his face into Cas’s thigh and kick his feet in the empty air.

“Uh, Dean,” Cas says, his voice muffled by the couch cushions, “I think maybe the floor is better.”

Dean grunts in agreement and manages to flop himself onto the floor. “Ow,” he groans. “My tailbone is going to feel that for awhile.”

Cas rolls off the couch, and they maneuver themselves to lean against it. “After all that,” he says, “I think I just want a nap.”

“Are you kidding?” Dean says. “All that work? I’m getting my reward.” He leans forward to kiss Cas, Cas leans forward to meet him, and they both lose their balance and fall to the floor.

“Fuck!” yells Cas, and Dean can’t hold back his laughter. Cas glares.

“I’m sorry,” says Dean, “but that was funny.”

They are face to face, only inches apart, sprawled on the soft carpet. “Hey,” says Dean. “This could work.”

Cas’s arms are both underneath him. Dean is on his side, one arm between the two of them and one arm awkwardly behind him. It doesn’t matter. Their lips meet, and they just snog with their arms like limp jellyfish.

They both smile, breaking the kiss. “See?” says Dean. “Totally worth it.”

Two hours later

Sam bursts into the house, yells, “I got one! You two–” He breaks off mid-sentence, frozen at the sight of Cas and Dean wrapped in each others’ arms and connected at the lips.

“Clearly your arms are working again, but uh–um–was there a love spell I didn’t know about?” Sam asks.

Dean smiles at Cas, ears pink, then looks at Sam. “No, Sam. I was just enjoying some time alone with my boyfriend.”

So…this story came about because Lindsay ( @justrandomspnstuff ) and I were having a conversation about my struggle with writing Dean and Cas kissing. I told her I can see it all in my head but they don’t ever do what I want them to do on the page….

me: WHY DON’T YOUR ARMS AND HANDS AND WHATEVERS DO WHAT I WANT THEM TO DO?????

Lindsay: haha nope. They just snog with their arms like limp jellyfish

It made me laugh (and laugh and laugh) and a story was born. It was supposed to be a drabble, but instead it’s 1400+ words. Oops.

Thanks, Lindsay!! (And I did finally write that kissing scene!!!! ;) )

[marquis1305]

Fluff

Mesara and Adair fluff to make up for all the angst I put them through yesterday. @hoehoehoelt

Mesara dipped her pen into the inkwell at her desk. Dragging her teeth into her bottom lip as she thought for a moment. Then leaned over to begin scratching at the parchment. Brows furrowing in concentration.  

"Who are you writing to this time?" Mesara flinches as the quill jolts across the page. Effectively ruining her efforts.  

"Well, I was turning down the latest suitor that my father had thrust towards me. Some second cousin to a prince, or maybe it was the prince himself. I don't bother to keep track anymore." She smirks, eyebrow lifting. "I think after they heard of the downfall of my latest engagement it must be getting harder for him to scrounge up new men."

"You would think he would have learned by now," Adair feels his temper flare. He was tired of this charade that her family continued to play. As though he was some servant instead of her chosen. Every month or so a new fop would make his way into Skyhold and claim he was her betrothed. None of them lasted longer than three days.  

The last one had gone running after only an hour in her presence.  

And if they dared to speak a word against the Dalish Healer... well, between Vivienne, Josephine, and Leliana; their fortunes rarely lasted longer than that.  

Mesara turns in her chair, lifting her hand to brush against his cheek. "My father will never learn, I would have thought my being a mage would deter most of these. But it would seem that, now that the Templar Mage war has ended, it is not quite the deterrent it once was. "

She sighs and returns to her previous position, grabbing another sheet. "At least Leliana was able to catch wind of this one before they showed up."

"A shame," he growls, "I do so enjoy when you make them run. Who knew that such a sweet girl could have such a sharp tongue."

"Behave!" Mesara giggles. "And you have no room to talk. It wouldn't matter how sweet I was with you glaring over my shoulder."

"I will not have them believe that they can take you away from me. I will not lose you. Not after everything Vhenan."

"Hush," she presses a kiss to the hand that has dropped onto her shoulder. Nuzzling into it slightly. "I am not going anywhere. My family can no longer dictate my every move. I am a woman grown, and the Inquisitor no less. I am finally more powerful than my father. He has no say."

"I think I have a better solution." Adair's eyes light up, and then he drops a kiss onto Mesara's dark red hair.  

"And what is that? Dare I ask?"

"You will see. I need to go speak with a few of our friends, meet me this evening, in the garden."

Mesara watches as Adair bolts out of their room, her face pinched tight in confusion. Sighing deeply, she returns to writing.  

Hours later, as the moon finally starts to rise in the evening skies. Mesara puts down her pen. She wipes an ink-stained hand against her forehead. Slowly, it dawns on her that she had not yet heard from Adair after his earlier escape. Smiling, she lifts herself up from her chair. Stretching away the aches of staying seated for so long. And then begins the hunt for her beloved.  

When she opens her door, she notices a small candle left out on the floor. Frowning Mesara picks it up and blows it out.  

"Who would leave an open flame here, where anyone could step on it?" She murmurs to herself.  

Then notices another flickering light further down the steps. Taking the steps two at a time, she makes her way down to the next candle.  

And notices a third near the door to the walkway.  

She smiles.  

Mesara sets down the original candle. And begins to follow the trail. Out past the stairways to her champers. Through the main hall. Out to the Gardens.  

The moment she steps out into the Garden (which she had recently renovated into an herb garden), Mesara starts to blink away tears. Every possible nook and cranny covered in bright little flames. A walkway formed of leaves and flower petals. Leading her to the small pavillion that Morrigan was usually lurking next to.  

Except it was not Morrigan standing there.  

Instead, Mesara found herself staring at the one man who had changed everything for her. His eyes relfecting the light of the moon and candles. Vallaslin bright on his pale face. He was smiling.

She walked over, as if in a daze. Barely recognizing her own movements.  

When she reached him, Adair brought her into a deep kiss. Earning the groan, that slips from between plump lips.  

Then he releases Mesara.

And kneels down in front of her.  

"Mesara, you drive me insane. Your family drives me insane. How many times have we almost throttled each other? How often do we march away, vowing to stay away?"

Mesara bows her head, fingers raising to cover blushing cheeks.  

"And yet I would not change any of that. Not for the way you bring a smile to my face, even in my deepest anger. The way you whisper exactly what I need to hear. The way your breath hitches in every kiss. Or the way you can cut down enemies in the same manner, with the same ease, with which you would write a strongly worded letter. You can be so strong, and yet so soft. You drive me crazy, and make me laugh."

The tears roll down her face as her grin widens.  

"Mesara, allow me the honor to be by your side, forever. Choose me, let everyone know you are mine."

"Yes..." She can barely whisper the word. Throwing herself at Adair instead. Arms wrapped tightly about his neck. "Yes, yes yes yes."

The words fall from her lips like a litany. A prayer.  

Suddenly the balconies surrounding the garden burst into thunderous applause. Josephine and Cassandra both calling out their congratulations, Varric whooping loudly, and Iron Bull whistling. Mesara turns in surprise, to see all of their friends, and half the nobles who had been visiting Skyhold, lining the balcony, packed tightly. Celebrating alongside them.

Mesara narrows her eyes, quickly turning back to Adair with a sly look. Pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, she whispers softly, "All this, just to make sure word of it got back to my father?"

Adair chuckles deeply. "Now everyone in Thedas will know you are mine."

"Always."