Tag: fluff

“I can’t believe you talked me into coming here,” Jack groaned as he pulled into the little parking lot, roughly putting the car into park and pointedly not looking at Rhys. The young man tried his best to put on a smile, in hopes that maybe Jack would stop being so grouchy if he acted like he was happy.

Well…Rhys was actually happy. After months of prodding and fruitless conversations, he’d finally managed to convince Jack to take a look at the local cat shelter. Rhys had been feeling the emptiness in the older man’s penthouse for quite some time, considering it was usually just the two of them with the occasional exception of a housekeeper or personal chef. Up until today, Jack had adamantly denied any of Rhys’ request for any kind of pet above a goldfish, and while Rhys liked the way they looked when he walked past the wall to wall aquariums in the main Hyperion atrium, you couldn’t cuddle a goldfish. And Rhys really wanted something to cuddle when Jack was out late and he had nothing else but television and the games on his phone to pass the time.

Rhys wasn’t sure what exactly had caused Jack to finally crack, but he wasn’t going to question this gift he’d been given by whatever cosmic power had a soft spot for kitties. So he wriggled his way out of his seatbelt and into the warm sun, hopping around to the driver’s side and opening the door, practically dragging Jack out of his seat and towards the entrance to the shelter.

The older man continued to gripe and groan as he was pulled inside the building, feeble air conditioner fluttering his hair. He stood back, arms crossed defiantly, stare fixed with determination right on his sneakers as Rhys spoke with the kindly young woman at the front desk. She smiled brightly at the two of them, beckoning them forward as she opened the door behind her. Rhys grabbed Jack’s wrist, marching the man through the doorway much to his continued annoyance.

The hallway before them was lined with little cages from floor to ceiling, a chorus of mews arising from the bars as Rhys gasped, shuffling towards the closest cages. He looked back at Jack, who was trying to bury himself in checking his phone, which was quickly plucked out of his hand and stowed in Rhys’ shirt pocket.

“Rhys, c’mon, I gotta check up on business—“

“You can answer your messages after you look at these adorable little orange kitties,” Rhys cooed as he tugged Jack closer by the wrist, pointing between the bars of the first cage.

“See?” He exclaimed at the sight of the little orange puffballs clustered in one corner together. “Look! This one is named Creamsicle….hey there! Hey little buddy!” Rhys cooed as one of the kittens shuffled away from the rest of his litter, mewling gently as he put his paws against the bars, little pink paw pads on full display.

Jack rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Orange hair is gonna reeeaaally stand out against all the nice new leather couches, kiddo.”

Rhys shot him an annoyed glance over his shoulder, but slowly managed to peel himself away from the kittens, though their little cries pulled at his heart.

Jack’s penthouse would be big enough for a whole litter, right?

The same thing happened whenever Rhys passed in front of a new cage—he would stop, let out an adoring gasp and chitter at the cats inside, then look back at Jack for any sign of approval or interest, only to be met with a bored or scathing remark. As much as Rhys loved looking at the cats, he was about ready to throw in the towel with Jack’s increasingly annoyed attitude. He’d hoped that Jack would see the fluffy faces and tiny paws and hear the excited little mews that cried take me home, please! and instantly melt. But Jack was acting as detached and aggravating as ever—at least until the walked up to the last cage.

Inside a young cat—not a kitten, but not as old as some of the other, more grizzled cats in the rest of the cages. It was long and sleek with fur richly patterned in dark sable brown, white, and orange. Most striking of all were it’s eyes—one brown and one blue, blinking intelligently up at Rhys.

And the fact that it was missing part of its front leg just above the joint.

“Awww, sweetie,” Rhys cooed, voice heavy with sympathy as he crouched down, watching the cat hop over to him, managing fairly well without one of its front paws. The cat pattered close, rubbing its nose affectionately against the cage, whiskers bristling.

As sweet as this cat was, Rhys knew that if Jack had rejected all the other cats in the shelter, there was no way he was going to go for one that had been roughed up this bad. He let out a sigh, making to rise to his feet when suddenly a heavy hand clapped on his back. Rhys blinked and looked up, only to see that his boyfriend had crouched right besides him, staring intently at the cat that was know rubbing its flank against the bars of its enclosure.

“I…I didn’t know their eyes could do that,” Jack stated, his eyes trained on the cat as it finished rubbing against the bars, turning around to sit right in front of where Jack was crouching. It slipped one paw between the bars, and as Rhys watched with bated breath, Jack reached out and poked softly against the cat’s speckled paw pads.

Rhys winced as he saw the cat’s paw suddenly contract, translucent claws digging slightly into Jack’s finger, but to his surprise the older man didn’t jump or swear or even flinch. Instead, a grin spread across his face as the cat pulled his finger in closer, nipping softly at the tip.

“Hehehe, got a bit of a bite don’t he? He’s just like you, he’s got a lil’ bit of moxie, and hey he’s even got your eye color!” Jack beamed as he pointed at the cat’s mismatched irises.

“Um, actually, according to the sign, he is actually a sh—“

“Look at him!” Jack exclaimed as the cat released his finger, settling for licking its paw and rubbing it against his muzzle. “That…that is the cutest frikkin’ thing I’ve ever seen, huh pumpkin?”

The cat meowed inquisitively.

“Pumpkin? Yeah, you like pumpkin? I mean you got cute little orange patches….Pumpkin, Pumpkin!” Jack called, the cat responding with an enthusiastic mew every time.

“I…Jack, that’s going to get kind of confusing…” Rhys protested, only to earn him an annoyed eyebrow from Jack.

“Kiddo, please. Isn’t this what you wanted, anyway? For me to fall head over heels for one of these lil’ sweeties?” Jack raised his finger, silencing any further complaints Rhys had.

“I’m taking this lil’ guy home. What do you say, Pumpkin? You wanna go home with daddy?”

The cat purred and rolled onto its back in response.

Thirty minutes later and Jack had finished filling out the paperwork, deliberately ignoring the clerk’s comments on the cat’s name and gender while Rhys made him promise to pick up all the necessary toys and food and bedding on the way back home. Jack agreed in a hurry, practically brimming with excitement at the idea of bringing Pumpkin with them. The cat carrier was quickly brought in from the backseat of the car, and before long Pumpkin was settled happily in the star printed blanket Rhys had lined the plastic with.

The young man was shocked when Jack offered him the keys to drive, but his expression faded into a knowing smile as Jack plopped down into the passenger seat and sat the cat carrier on his lap, giggling like a child as he waggled his finger in front of the little bars, enticing the cat to bat playfully at him. Rhys’ felt warm and happy as he pulled out of the little parking lot, pleased beyond belief that Jack had been able to open his heart and welcome a new member into their slowly growing family.  

Apparently I decided to do none of the meme requests I was actually asked for and instead did #13, which was “picking out a cat together at the local animal shelter” because I was in the mood for fluff to make myself feel better. Set in a modern AU.

Could you write a drabble with Jack being an aggressive cuddler? Like he’ll be dead ass asleep and start yanking Rhys around like a rag doll and it eventually becomes the only way Rhys can tell that Jack is actually sleeping well.

One aggressive cuddler Jack coming up!

Leave me a tip!

The first time it happened, Rhys was pretty sure he was going to die.

Okay, well, maybe he was exaggerating, but when you’re violently being jerked around on your bed in the middle of the night, logic tends to escape you. 

He remembered letting out an indignant squeak as he was suddenly grabbed around the waist and jerked violently from his side of the bed and rolled atop of Jack–the culprit behind his rude awakening. Rhys had puffed out in shaky anger, looking down at Jack and expecting to see those eyes flashing with mirth and those lips curled into a smirk, but instead he saw Jack’s peacefully sleeping face. Rhys had leaned in, touching noses to Jack as he’d studied his expression, but nope–Jack had been sleeping as soundly as Rhys had ever seen him. 

Since then, it’s happened a couple of times. Rhys will be sleeping, or staying up late to check a couple of things on the ECHOnet, only to be interrupted as Jack suddenly throws out his arms and latches himself around Rhys, tugging him in for some aggressive cuddles and usually ending anything Rhys is trying to do, be it work or getting in a decent amount of uninterrupted sleep.

Initially annoying, Rhys soon comes to appreciate the nature of these manic cuddle sessions. He notices that on these nights Jack is less likely to thrash away in a desperate attempt to chase away the throes of nightmares. When his arms are bound tightly around Rhys’, cheek pressed up against the young man’s chest, he tends to sleep throughout the entire night without being disturbed by the visions that haunt his tired brain. As soon as the initial shock of these cuddling episodes wears off, Rhys melts into a smile, carding his fingers through Jack’s messy hair until, he too, falls asleep. 

At the end of it all, Rhys is very willing to be at the mercy of Jack’s cuddling if it means his lover is sleeping soundly for once.  

Tim can see new muscles stretching in Jack’s bare back and shoulders as he cracks foreign fruit from the branches and takes a fierce bite, red juice running down his chin in such a way that Tim can’t stop himself from abandoning the stack of wood and sliding up behind Jack. One hand smooths over the man’s stomach and down towards his pants and Jack relaxes into Tim with nary a care in the world as the double kisses up his bronze neck, the smell of breakfast-fire smoke and cocoa butter lotion warm in his nose as he holds Jack close to him with only the colorful birds as their audience.

happy birthday @herkal !! ❤ I hope this gives you a reason to smile today. Jackothy fluff in which they enjoy a tropical happily ever after c:

There are some days when the endless, opalescent Eden waters that ripple out off to the shimmering horizon almost remind Tim of the Pandoran deserts. Those are the days he usually finds himself falling back into old habits—hiding a pistol under his pillow, jumping at every little noise, looking up to the planet’s moon and expecting to see a massive space station shadowed against it.

But it takes very little to calm him back down, to soothe his hand away from the grip of his gun, to help him relax in the tranquil sound of the tender waves lapping up against the soft, pink sand. It takes little more than a broad hand urging him back to bed, than warm breath against his chest as Jack pulls him into an embrace and murmurs softly in half-sleep.

“You’re tossing n’ turning again, pumpkin,” Jack hums against Tim’s chest, hands rubbing idly up and down the double’s back, “costing me my beauty sleep over here.”

“Guess that explains something…” Tim murmurs sleepily, nuzzling his nose against the top of Jack’s head. The residual scent of expensive shampoo and cologne had long given way to the smell of sand and salt and the warm smell of Jack’s own natural musk that, even after all these years, still feels like a discovery to Tim.

“Watch it, pumpkin, or you’re sleeping outside tonight.” Jack growls playfully with a pinch to Tim’s back, drawing a giggle out of the double.

“Mmm, don’t think so. I’m pretty sure you’d miss me. I’m super warm,” Tim tips his nose downwards as Jack looks up at him, softly touching their noses together, “you get chilly, old man.”

“Old,” Jack snorts, and Tim can hear sleep pulling him back down, “still a frikkin’….Adonis…Timmy…”

“Sure, Jack,” Tim smiles gently as he presses a kiss to his drowsy lover, “sure.”

Even after the trials of Elpis and Helios and Pandora, as well as the still-unspoken events of Jack’s life before Timothy had been recruited to Hyperion, Jack looks really good.

The layer of chubbiness that had hung around his middle on Helios has thinned somewhat, leaving him with a stockier strength in his torso as he helps Timothy strip and gather wood from the small crop of trees clustered on the island. Tim can see new muscles stretching in Jack’s bare back and shoulders as he cracks foreign fruit from the branches and takes a fierce bite, red juice running down his chin in such a way that Tim can’t stop himself from abandoning the stack of wood and sliding up behind Jack. One hand smooths over the man’s stomach and down towards his pants and Jack relaxes into Tim with nary a care in the world as the double kisses up his bronze neck, the smell of breakfast-fire smoke and cocoa butter lotion warm in his nose as he holds Jack close to him with only the colorful birds as their audience.

It’s heavenly to have Jack’s body pressed up against him, skin warmed in the natural sun in a way it had never felt on Helios, and Tim loves the way Jack melts into him, the way he turns his head and greets Tim with lips that taste like sweet, rare fruit and leave drools of red juice down his own chin.  

And as much as Jack complains about sex on the beach—I don’t like sand in my asscrack, pumpkin—he has many less reservations about sex against the soft bark of an exotic tree.

Tim finds himself admiring the way Jack seems to thrive on the tiny island nestled on a pristine Eden atoll—in more ways than simply physical, though the change in libido and energy is certainly more than welcome.  

Tim in some ways feels like he’s seeing Jack for the first time—a Jack unsullied by the fever of the vaults, by betrayal and pain and abuse.

The tense, swaggering lines that had once plastered the halls of Helios have given way to more relaxed, gentle curves as Jack pulls a fishing line hung with a fat Eden snapper out of the shallows, or fixes up the windows on their house, or enjoys a cool beer by the fire pit as they watch the dusky pink sunset together, the lights from their island the only ones for hundreds of miles around.

They have some humble technology in their little bungalow, enough to keep food fresh, lights on, and temperatures controlled when it was humid or stormy. There’s an emergency line as well, but neither of the have bothered to touch it since they came here, as so far any issues have been easily solved with their own two hands and a couple hours of work. It’s worlds apart from the highly mechanized, automated world of Helios, but there’s something new and visceral that’s igniting a sustained, blooming fire inside of Jack, rather than the blistering inferno that had nearly killed him.

Sometimes Tim wakes up in the middle of the night, unsettled from some half-remembered dream, to see Jack resting peacefully, scarred face glimmering softly in the purple moonlight that drifts through the open window. Despite the rough skin Jack’s expression is relaxed in a way that Timothy has never seen before, certainly not in those nights they had stayed up desperate in each other’s arms with the glow of Elpis filtering through the massive, imposing windows.

The scar never heals, but somedays, it looks better. Only in the throes of the occasional nightmare does Jack look like the madness that had nearly consumed him on Pandora, before Tim had stolen him away, and for that the double is endlessly grateful. He is grateful that now his touch, his kisses and his scent do more than just stave off the decay for a moment longer—now, freed away from the cancer of the vaults and the weight of his past and his name Jack is finally able to bare naked and soft to his lover.

Maybe the tender sands of the Eden beaches have worn his edges down and maybe the crystal waters have washed away the blood and sickness and left him how he was always meant to be.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s finally far enough away where neither of them have to be “Jack.”

Ehhhh I just finished up the omegaverse family fluff from the other day o/ thats literally all it is, don’t expect anything more interesting c;

“So, is dad still the ‘cool’ parent?” Rhys commented, maybe a little smugly, as he relaxed back into the couch, one leg crossed over the other as he took a sweet sip of his coffee and surveyed what he had turned their living room into. Jack was still out on his business trip, and considering it had started to rain pretty hard outside, Rhys had decided to transform the entire space into a massive blanket fort for him and the boys. Sure, he’d have to go and put all the pillows and blankets and sheets they had stripped from every bed in the house back before they went to bed—unless the boys wanted to sleep in their new fort for the night—but in Rhys’ mind it was worth it. If only to finally have the “cool parent” moniker swiped from Jack for just this once. Someone had to be the one to get the kids to eat their veggies and go to bed on time, after all, but now that Jack was away Rhys figured he could let up a little bit just to show the kids he could be fun too.

One of the blankets fluttered for a second, before a little hand tugged away the fabric as Cyrus’ tousled little head popped out, a bright grin splashed across his face. His other hand was grasping a blue and white mug full of hot chocolate, a glop of whipped cream, and shaved bits of peppermint sprinkled on top.

“No you’re the coolest!” Cyrus giggled as he took a big noisy slurp of his hot chocolate, getting whipped cream all over his upper lip, which he licked off with a happy grin. After a second Jaxen poked his head out of the blanket as well, paired with his own little cup of hot chocolate.  

“Th’ coolest…” Jaxen agreed with a slow nod, before shyly licking at the whipped cream on his drink. He had his favorite bee plush held snugly in his free arm, his little chin resting on the soft yellow fur. Rhys felt his heart warm at the sight, both of his children cuddled happily in a massive nest he had built himself, sipping down hot cocoa he’d made especially for them. It satisfied his parental instincts to be able to care for his kids like this, especially with the storm raging outside—not that that was an actual threat, not with the sturdy walls of Jack’s mansion, but the occasional boom of thunder and splatter of rain on the windows prickled his instincts and told him to hide the children away in a safe place and make sure they were well taken care of.

“All right, kids, budge over, I want in on this.” Rhys stood up, carefully balancing his coffee in one hand as he got on his knees and burrowed in next to his boys. Cyrus let out a squeal, complaining that “mom’s big butt is gonna squash us!” which earned him an overly messy sloppy kiss as “punishment.” Cyrus squawked in dismay, rubbing at his cheek and sticking out his tongue, though he snuggled in to his parent once Rhys was settled inside the warm belly of the blanket fort. Rhys had even hung a couple of twinkling fairy lights through the fort, illuminating the inside in soft light.

“Man, you kids are sure lucky you have such an awesome mom, huh? Your dad couldn’t even dream of a fort as cool as this.” Rhys crowed, once again admiring his handiwork as he took a long sip of his coffee, the spiced vanilla goodness warming him almost as much as the cuddly forms of his sons as they both tried to lay on his lap. Rhys finished off his coffee with a luxuriant slurp, setting the empty mug aside so he could run his fingers through both of his son’s hair as they continued drinking their hot chocolates, eventually nestling their cups in the blankets covering the floor and nuzzling into Rhys’ lap. With a soft smile the omega rubbed his sons’ backs, moving them slightly so he could lay down with them and cover everyone in a thick fleece blanket. Soon, Rhys too was dozing off, soothed into sleep by the sound of the rain on the window and the soft noise of his sons’ breathing.

Jack shook his umbrella free from water, hanging it up with his shed coat as he closed the door behind him, grateful to be warm and inside away from the storm still raging outside. He shivered, rubbing his hands together as he glanced about the foyer, noticing the light coming from the connected kitchen and living room. He took a look at his phone—it was only 6 o’clock, so Rhys and the kids should be awake, though he heard no movement or happy squeals aroused when he called out to his mate. Raising a confused eyebrow, Jack toed off his shoes and walked curiously towards the living room to find his family.

“Rhysie? Kiddos? I’m back earl—“ Jack cut himself off as he saw what the room had been turned into, eyes widening at the, frankly, massive blanket fort that had consumed the space from the kitchen entrance to the hallway leading to the first floor bedrooms. Jack put his hands on his hips, looking over the whole affair, impressed.

“Dang, you guys really have fun when Jack is gone, don’t you?” He whistled lowly, though he still got no response from the fort, so he quickly got on his hands and knees, crawling around until he found the little blanket flap that constituted the “entrance.” What he found made warmth bloom in his cute and an affectionate smile flicker over his face.

“Couldn’t wait up for daddy, huh? I see how it is…” Jack whispered as he crawled further into the fort, where his mate and children were curled up together under a thick blanket, all sleeping without a care in the world. The alpha inhaled deeply, taking in the warm, fuzzy scents of his family mingling together in the peaceful shelter of the blanket fort. Worn from the long trip home, Jack was more than eager to snuggle in next to his little family, and soon enough he too was resting in the comfortable nest with his arms wrapped around Rhys and his two sons.

i tried writing belated halloween ABO mpreg fluff to cheer me up. i don’t think it worked at all but here’s this

“Are you sure I don’t look ridiculous?” Rhys hummed as he examined himself in the mirror, turning around as the silky black dress twirled about his ankles. His costume had been Jack’s idea in the first place, and though Rhys had agreed to it, he still hadn’t been entirely sure about the execution. He was still a little bit nervous showing off his pregnant stomach, even with Jack at his side and a gun strapped on his thigh under his dress. They were headed off to a crowded party, and who knows what kind of alpha might get the wrong idea and try to harm him. On top of that, Rhys was still just a little bit anxious about anyone other than his mate seeing such a bare, vulnerable part of his body.

He heard the pleased chuckle of his mate seconds before Jack appeared in the mirror  before him, broad hands sliding up Rhys’ hips to settle on his waist. Jack eyed his mate’s reflected form in the mirror, a grin forming across his lips as his gaze landed on Rhys’ stomach.

Rhys wore a beautiful, galaxy print robe that swept against the floor and extended in roomy, elegant sleeves around his wrist. It dipped down in a scoop neck over his chest, showing off the creamy skin and the splashes of blue tattoo stretching over his left breast. Bright bursts of blue, purple, and red scattered over the inky black fabric, the perfect reflection of the swirling space just outside of their window. And while Jack adored the way the robe clung to his mate’s form, he was far more proud of what was going on around his middle.

Jack wasn’t the best painter in the universe—though he would claim otherwise to any who asked—and working on a round, fleshy canvas was a thousand times harder than painting on something flat and unmoving, but he thought he’d done a pretty good job in turning Rhys’ bare, heavily pregnant stomach into a mural of Elpis with Helios prettily silhouetted in front of it. Any mistakes or errors in proportion were washed away in the surge of pride Jack felt in having his pregnant mate’s stomach painted like his now second greatest achievement.

“Earth to Jack,” Rhys’ amused laugh managed to break through the alpha’s haze of admiration, “I’m going to take your spaciness to mean you really like the outfit? You don’t think it looks weird?”

Jack pressed a smirking kiss to Rhys’ neck, his hands splaying carefully over his mate’s swollen belly, the smooth dried body paint kissing his fingers.

“Babe, do you think anyone at this party is gonna even come close to having as great a costume as you do? Not that it matters, anyway. I rig the voting. You’re a shoe-in.”

Rhys smirked, a small fitter flitting from his lips as the baby kicked, his stomach rippling softly with the movement. Jack put on a mock-pout, smoothing his palms over his mate’s belly.

“Chill, kiddo, calm down before you ruin daddy’s masterpiece, aight?” Rhys gave an amused roll of the eyes, his hands settling over Jack’s as the alpha nuzzled up and down his neck.

“Not to mention I’d like to be able to get through the night without taking a dozen trips to the bathroom…settle down, ‘kay Cyrus buddy?” Rhys gently admonished his stomach, feeling his child slowly start to settle down, hopefully deciding to take a nap and give Rhys a proper night of fun.