that i may fluff them


@severeprincesswitch Happy Rhackiversary!! :D It’s been 1 year today since I started shipping these two nerds. Was saving this for today :3 I hope you like it!! Sorry for taking so long!!

Relax (Wooseok)

Originally posted by pen1ag0n

length: 327 words

genre: fluff

99. “This bath is too damn hot.” - “This is why we can’t do cute things. You complain too much.” (x)

“Are you still just laying here?” Wooseok walked into the bedroom, seeing you sprawled like a starfish across the bed. “Yes” you groaned, dragging it out to relieve some of the tension in your body. “Do you want me to run a bath for you?” Wooseok chuckled as he sat beside you on the bed, leaning over to give you a peck on the forehead. “I don’t wanna get up” you muttered. “I’ll take it with youuuuu~” he sang, tempting you. “I guess” you agreed, your eyes shut as you let your muscles unwind in the sheets below you.

Wooseok went into the bathroom, filling the bath almost all the way with warm water, throwing one of your favorite fizzy bath bombs into the clear water. He watched as the bath bomb illuminated the bath with light pinks and purples. “Y/N!” he called to you as he undressed and entered the bath. As you entered, he was comfortably nestled on one side of the bath, waiting for you to join him. You lazily stripped off your work clothes as he watched you and stepped into the bath, the water slightly displacing around you.

“This bath is too damn hot” you grumbled as you attempted to submerge your body in the water. “This is why we can’t do cute things. You complain too much” he pouted, playfully splashing water at you as he laughed. You gasped in shock as the water hit your face. You cupped your hand and splashed some water and retaliating back at him. After a few minutes and giggles later, you finally relaxed your body and allowed the warm water and scent from the bath bomb relieve the tension in your body. “Ahhhhhhh” you sighed in contentment.

“Relaxed?” Wooseok peeked over at you. “Mmhmmmmm” you hummed with your eyes shut. “I’m glad” he slowly moved forward, kissing your forehead. “Thank you for this” you grinned to yourself. “Anything for you, love” he cooed.

anonymous asked:

What if a human got sick or something?

Seeing as I recently got strep (freaking again) then I should be able to properly illustrate the sorrows of sickness.

Also, I cannot wait to write the alien’s reaction. Should be amazing.

Also there may be some fluff because I friggin ship people together and want them to make out and have fifty babies but whatever I have ta pace myself

Everything seemed normal. Like any other day, everyone was busy with their jobs, working to keep the ship in tip-top shape.

Xylion was currently working on the checkup. He had already gone through all the mechanisms, medical wing, kitchen, dormitories, and main console. All that was left was to check on the crew. After all, a good ship cannot run without its crew being in perfect shape.

“Line up in the break room for a checkup. I repeat, line up in the break room for a checkup.” Xylion said through the announcement system.

When Xylion arrived, everyone was already lined up. Dattalion stood away from them, and when Xylion walked in, he nodded and walked up by him. They then began to check everyone for any injuries and asked them about whether or not they were in pain.

“No, I haven’t done anything that would cause injury, sir.” Sil’keen babbled, pressing her paws together.

“Nope. Other than the bump on the head I got this morning from dropping my wrench on my head, nothing.” Grudge said, knocking the side of his head.

“Nothing that I can think of, no. My job isn’t exactly dangerous. I’m just the janitor.” Tilorian said, his whole body seeming to shrink into itself.

“I mean, I accidentally cut myself yesterday, but Quinn patched me up. Besides, cuts are ordinary for any chef.” Micheele said, adjusting her hat.

“I’m the Captain. I don’t do much other than sit in my chair and steer the ship. But even that’s only about an hour each day. We do have autopilot, after all.” Zellnor said, chuckling slightly at the end of his sentence.

“Nothing I can think of, Xylion.” Human Isaac said, his face smeared with grease.

“If I was hurt, I would’ve patched myself up.” Human Quinn said, her green hair falling in front of her eyes

All Human Mason did was shake his head.

“No. I haven’t done any experimenting recently, so it’d be pretty hard for me to get injured.” Human Fredrick said, adjusting his glasses.

And then they got to Human Jenny.

Xylion immediately noted she looked different. Her skin was paler and he could clearly see dark circles under her eyes. Her nose was red and slightly swollen, and beads of sweat seemed to trickle down her face. She looked exhausted.

“Are you okay, Human Jenny?” Xylion asked, eyeing her up and down.

Human Jenny nodded slowly, her eyes barely focusing on him. “I’m…” her voice seemed to vanish for a second, “-pletely fine.”

Dattalion frowned. “Are you sure?”

Human Jenny nodded, but halfway through she began to cough violently. Xylion’s eyes widened and he immediately looked to Dattalion for help. He quickly moved to her and began to pat her body, obviously looking for any injuries. However, when Dattalion got lower, Human Jenny froze and then furiously whacked him on the head.

Human Quinn rolled her eyes at the alien and then pressed the back of her hand to Human Jenny’s forehead. Human Quinn nodded. “You feel like you have a temperature, Jenny. How did you get sick?”

“I’m not-” violent coughing “-sick!”

However, Human Quinn didn’t take no for an answer and forced Human Jenny to go to the clinic.

Xylion was forbidden to go in there. Dattalion didn’t know if the disease she had was dangerous to aliens, so they decided to quarantine the area.

Xylion had no idea why, but he was scared. He was scared for Human Jenny. What if this disease was fatal? What if she never recovered?

He couldn’t have a crewmember die on him.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

Xylion was currently sitting right outside the clinic, waiting for any news. It had felt like ages, just waiting for something. He didn’t know how long it had been when Human Fredrick and Human Isaac came over.

“What’s wrong, man?” Human Isaac asked, scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m just worried for Human Jenny, that’s all.” Xylion said, looking down at his gloved tentacles.

Human Fredrick chuckled. “You look more worried than you’re letting on, Xylion.”

Xylion was confused. “What do you mean? I am just worried about my fellow crewmember.”

Human Isaac threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t have a degree in psychology, and I certainly am not smart, but even I can tell you’re being a bit too worried. She just has a cold. Should be better in like, a day or two.”

Xylion felt his nerves settle. But why though? He certainly didn’t feel this nervous about other crewmembers. Unless-

“Well, it looks like Grudge is gonna need some help fixing up the plumbing.” Human Isaac said, looking down at a communication device.

Human Fredrick nodded. “I should go and analyze this ore we picked up off of Planet 559.”

“See you, Xylion!” Human Isaac said as the two walked off.

Xylion blinked, and then sunk even deeper into his chair. Before he could sink an deeper into his mind, the door opened. Dattalion stood there with a stupid grin on his face. “You can see her now, lover boy.”

Xylion began to secrete mucus.

However, he calmed himself and walked in. Human Quinn nodded at hi as she walked out. Xylion glanced over at Human Jenny. She looked at him. “What were you doing waiting out there?” Her voice was hoarse, and he could barely hear her.

“I needed to make sure my crewmember was alright.” He whispered, sitting down on the chair next to her.

Human Jenny sat up, laughing as best she could. “I just have the flu, don’t worry about me.”

“I worry about all my crewmembers.”

Her smile seemed to fade. “Right.”

Xylion frowned. “Are you alright, Human Jenny?”

She nodded, looking away from him. “Of course! Just a…peachy.”

Xylion didn’t know what that meant. “Are you sure?”

Human Jenny looked at him, her eyes narrowed. “I promise I am okay, Xylion.”

He nodded. The two descended into silence.

Human Jenny coughed a few times while Xylion felt the mucus begin to secrete even faster. He tugged his sleeves further down until they touched his gloves, prohibiting her rom seeing any of it. Why did he care about what she saw? Why did he care about what she thought of him?

Xylion sighed. “I’m going to go, Human Jenny. I hope you get better soon.”

As he was standing up, his arm was suddenly grabbed. He frowned as he looked at her. “Human Jenny-”

Xylion was cut off. HIs eyes widened at her action. He felt the mucus begin to secrete even faster than before. His heart was beating quickly. How would he respond to this? How did one respond when their whole body was frozen? Xylion couldn’t move as he was rooted to the floor.

She had just kissed him.

On the cheek.

Human Jenny pulled away, her cheeks flushed red. “Thank you, Xylion. Thank you for checking on me.”

“Of- of- of-” Xylion couldn’t say anything, so he just nodded.

Human Jenny blushed even more before she sat back down. Xylion let out a breath and looked down at her as she laid down and pulled the covers over her face. Xylion sighed before stepping back and walking towards the door.

As it opened, he stole one last look at her before walking out.

*coughs awkwardly*


I either just made your day or made you want to cut me into a thousand little pieces. Not sure which one.

How’d you like the chapter?

Did I just say chapter? What the fudge? Am I really that friggin’ tired? This is tumblr not Wattpad you stupid face.

*coughs even more awkwardly*

Speaking of Wattpad, I will post something about it later, along with something else regarding this series.

So yeah.

If you want to request something, then please message me! I may be busy with school and learning how to frickin’ drive, but I will do my best to answer ya’ll!

Adios, amigos!

Happy birthday, Riko-chan!


Or should I say Princess Riko?
Because this fic turned into something that even I wasn’t expecting … :’) it might turn into a proper AU if people enjoy it haha … But I really don’t know how this fic will be received, so for now, I just hope that you’ll have fun reading it, or that you’ll just enjoy it a little …

Thanks for your time again, guys! But don’t expect a wild party and cake and candles and all, we’re kinda far from all this


Once all the guests have taken a seat and comfortably settled down, loud chatter erupts and fills the huge dining hall, much to Riko’s great displeasure. It is not like she isn’t happy to be here, at the head of the table with the two Queens –her parents– sitting next to her, surrounded by most of the servants who saw her grow up … and, of course, by far too many acquaintances.

No, honestly. Riko loves dining with her doting parents, and with ‘Auntie’ Tsubasa and ‘Auntie’ Honoka, two housemaids who are close friends with her Mama and Mommy, and whom she holds close to her heart. But, dining today with so many strangers is quite unnerving and nerve-wracking for the crimson-haired beauty. She couldn’t care less about the old aristocrats who were invited to her baptism years ago ; she couldn’t even care less about the other royal families, who are certainly here today out of obligation.

Truthfully, Riko would rather run away from that formal dinner than stay here, on her comfy seat, listening to the annoying chit-chat of all those toffs. She knows that the Queens aren’t the ones who orchestrated all this. After all, they are so thoughtful, so nice and so involved when it comes to their little princess that the idea of organizing a big ceremony for Riko’s twentieth birthday would have never crossed their mind. It is certainly their old and exasperating advisor behind this … setup. But her parents must have agreed because it was an occasion for them to adorn most of the rooms and halls and corridors with Riko’s favorite flowers –among all the flowers the princess tends to on a day-to-day basis.

Riko’s love for gardening comes from her childhood, the moment when her Mommy unconsciously conveyed her passion for plants and flowers to her. Riko remembers it as if it were yesterday : she was barely starting to learn how to speak when, one day, she escaped from her Mama and Honoka in the kitchens and ran to the garden. Where she bumped into her Mommy, who was watering a bush of light blue flowers. A few years later, she learnt that they were hydrangeas –and they quickly became her favorite–, while learning at the same time how to tend to an entire garden and everything related to the world of flowers.

“Mommy,” Riko once asked as she was sitting in the grass, the Queen tenderly braiding her daughter’s shoulder-length hair, “Why did you tell Auntie Tsubasa to take our pink p- … Peonies for her wedding bouquet?”

“Because peonies are known to be a symbol of romance and love, and even of beauty and honor,” her Mommy replied, fingers combing a few unruly crimson locks. “Pink peonies are often used in wedding bouquets, and I want your aunties to express their love for each other even with the bouquet.”

“Oh … Can they put my favorite flowers in their bouquet?”

Riko leaned her head back when she heard an uncharacteristic snort behind her, meeting her Mommy’s amused lilac eyes. “Unfortunately sweetheart, no one should make a wedding bouquet with blue hydrangeas.”

“Why? Don’t the other flowers mean love and beauty and grace? Like, all the flowers?”

“No,” Anju answered her daughter after tying the end of the braid with a magenta
kosumosu. “Yours, as it happens, don’t really represent love between two persons. If you give a blue hydrangea to someone, it means that you’re turning them down … With refinement,” the Queen giggled before seizing the ivory watering can, on which were drawn blossoms.

Riko stood up and grabbed her mother’s hand, following her under an arch with ivy and climbing roses creeping it up. “Mommy, can you tell me more about the flowers?”

“Of course.” She smiled, before loosening her grip around the little girl’s hand and handing her the watering can. “What if you water the tulips and I tell you everything about them, for now?”


Riko heaves a discreet sigh as she straightens her back once again, lowering her gaze and looking at the empty plate in front of her. Ah, she desperately wishes she could have shared this copious meal with someone else. How she misses those amazing sapphire irises …

Keep reading

hamelin-born  asked:

May I please request darkcreature!gramander fluff? With the two of them as dark creatures, but still so very much happy and in love with one another?

[a/n] @hamelin-born of course! I’d be happy to! Sorry this sat in my inbox so long. It was super fun to write though (I admit, fluff is not my strong suit. I’m not super practiced at it… but I hope this suffices!). Besides, it’s about time I give the boys some comfort and fluff. Maybe I should make it a thing. 1 fluff for every 5 fics of pain. XD Hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by dannywitwers

There were many sides of Graves that Newt loved. He loved the director that could back him into a corner, all long lines and powerful edges, and simply devour him with hot breath and even hotter lips. He loved the man that woke up earlier despite going to bed late, just to help Newt with his chores around the enclosures of his case. He loved the friend that made sure to walk Queenie home after an unexpectedly late night at the office. He loved the sympathetic human being that decided to turn a blind eye to a certain kind no-maj and his bakery when he realized just where those creature-inspired pastries Newt loved so much were coming from. He loved the way he doted on the Niffler when he thought Newt wasn’t looking, or how he seemed particularly in awe of the powerful grace of the Nundu despite their dangerous (and very illegal) presence.

He loved him when he had Newt in his arms, his lips at his shoulder whispering kind words into his freckled skin. He loved him when he woke up trembling and he loved him when he lost himself beneath Newt’s touch and he loved him when he tried to hide the fact that he used reading glasses because he thought it made him old.

There were many sides of Graves that Newt loved. But this one… Graves curled up on the couch – hair mussed and sleepy eyed and clad in an old and battered Ilvermorny sweater – dozing sweetly with the faintest snore… This was one of his favorites.

Newt came to stand beside the couch and delicately set the bowl of oil he had been carrying down on the side table before leaning down to gently check Graves’ temperature by pressing his forehead up against the other man’s brow. Warm, still feverish from the change. Newt nodded, expecting no less, before gently taking the paperwork from Graves’ slack grip and gently setting it aside as well.

“M’not done with that,” Graves mumbled, one eye cracked open to watch Newt with a frown – but he made no move to stop him. Newt smiled.

“It’ll still be here for you later,” he said simply, before turning back to the director and gently brushing a sweaty lock of hair from his brow. Even narrow as they were, he could still see amber peeking out inside the dark depths of Graves’ brown eyes. “How are we feeling?”

“Told you m’fine,” Graves groused even as he sunk a little more into the baggy comfort of his sweater, his jaw tipping instinctively into the callused curve of Newt’s hand as he brought it down to cup his face. “I need to get used to this.”

Newt sighed, amused and a little impatient.

“You can’t just will this away, Percival,” he said as he took one of Graves’ trembling hands into his own and willed heat into his fingers – easing the tremor from the director’s bones. “What you really need to get used to is taking care of yourself.”

Graves scowled even as a deep, contented purr blossomed in his chest from Newt’s administrations.

“I don’t have time to take off after every full moon, Newt,” he said.

“One day a month wouldn’t kill you,” Newt pressed as he eased his thumbs into the aching flesh between the tendons of Graves’ hand and moved up to start rubbing away the ache in the man’s wrist – slightly swollen from the transformation earlier that morning. “If you don’t listen to your body, it’ll make you listen. The last thing you or your team needs is their director passing out in the middle of MACUSA because you pushed yourself too hard.”

Graves looked away at that, more awake now than he had been – a cute little wrinkle between his brows from frowning. Newt apologetically kissed his hand at the sight of his troubled look. Graves wasn’t used to having to take it easy. Before Grindelwald, his power had been uncontested. His body had been strong, his magic even stronger. According to Tina, the man never got sick. His work had been his life. Sometimes he even slept in his office. He had never needed to slow down before. To rest.

And like many things, Grindelwald robbed him of that too.

Newt hadn’t believed it at first. He had never heard of a man becoming a werewolf without having been bitten by one. But sure enough, when they found Graves he was half mad from starvation and captivity and the pain of his oncoming transformation. And there hadn’t even been so much as a scar to suggest the man had ever been bitten. Graves had tried to warn them, though. He howled at them to close the door – to leave. The aurors just thought him crazed and panicked. They didn’t listen. They advanced on him with soothing whispers and eager hands, and all the while Newt couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong as he watched Graves press himself as far into the corner as he could – small and terribly thin and trembling. Eyes on the window. Afraid.

Afraid of himself.

They thought he was afraid of Grindelwald returning. Newt didn’t notice that it was the rising moon the man was watching until it was too late. Thankfully, Graves couldn’t remember anything after the transformation. Newt was grateful for that every day.

“Newt?” Graves asked, breaking the magizoologist from his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Newt blinked, pinned beneath the worried warmth of Graves’ gaze – still glowing ever so faintly from his night as a wolf. And when Newt didn’t answer right away, Graves gently pulled his hand away and for the first time, Newt saw the man nervously avert his eyes.

“You don’t have to keep doing this. I know you’re busy,” Graves said softly, and Newt flinched when he finally recognized the man’s body language for what it was – shame. “I can take care of myself.”

Newt wasn’t sure what the man was expecting. But it obviously wasn’t the scoffing snort Newt let out at the man’s statement. Graves whirled to look at him with wide eyes as Newt took advantage of his shock to grab at the waistline of the man’s pants and ease them down his long legs, past his swollen and aching knees, until finally they were off the man altogether.

“If that were true, these,” Newt said, hot hands on the director’s knee caps, “Wouldn’t be so swollen. And I wouldn’t have had to argue with you to get you to stay home for once in your life.”

Graves scowled and opened his mouth to argue, but Newt quickly lifted himself up to silence the man with a chaste kiss before leaning back – smiling.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he said, eyes crinkled at the edges as he made sure to remember every line that made up the soft, shocked expression on Graves’ normally controlled and stoic face. “That doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

Without another word, Newt dipped his hands into the minty oil he had brought for Graves and shuffled down to kneel by the man’s legs. Gently, he eased them straight – lips soft and apologetic against the man’s shin when the cartilage in his knee popped angrily. Newt didn’t miss the way the director flinched or how he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning.

“Ssh,” he said, eyes looking up the long line of Graves’ body to meet his feverish gaze. “I’ve got you.”

He willed the skin of his hands hotter as pressed his thumbs around the swollen edges of Graves’ right knee. He knew what it must feel like. Minty coolness and warm flesh and delicious pressure as he rubbed away knots and untangled the muscles that had been aggravated from the change. He rubbed until Graves’ bitten off groans turned into soft little huffs of pleasure beneath his breath. He kneaded the flesh, working his palms from the back of the man’s knee down into the meat of his calve, until Graves’ body had sunken into the couch – head back. He moved to the other leg once the man’s eyes slipped closed, Graves’ hands trembling for a completely different reason.

And all the while, Newt smiled. He drank in the sight of this Graves; the normally fierce and powerful director turned puddle on the couch. The strong lines of his face soft with pleasure and his body slack beneath Newt’s touch. Messy hair and inelegant clothing and glistening skin. He cherished every second of easing the baggy, battered sweater up the hard planes of the man’s stomach. He kissed and worshiped every inch of pale skin the journey exposed and loved the way Graves grumbled sleepily as Newt guided the overgrown sweater over the man’s head. He memorized the feel of the man’s firm body beneath his hands as he rubbed away the weariness of the werewolf’s shoulders and the tautness in his back. He didn’t stop until Graves was well and truly lost to the world, half asleep and blissed out from the magizoologist’s attentions.

And when Newt was finally content with the quality of his work, he simply eased Graves’ upper body up so that he could slide his lap beneath the man and join him on the couch. Newt smiled as long, powerful arms threaded themselves around his waist so that Graves might press his nose into the redhead’s stomach – his ribs rumbling heavily against Newt’s thigh beneath the weight of his contented purrs. Yes. This was one of his favorite sides of Percival Graves; the side he never showed the world.

“What an odd pair we must make,” Graves mumbled sleepily into Newt’s belly. “A werewolf in the lap of a dragon.”

Newt smiled down at him and brushed the director’s dark hair back from his brow even as he willed his body hotter, eager to soothe Graves’ aches.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘perfect’.”

Roman, pls come assist your children. 

SERIOUSLY. Seriously. You know what, fuck you for being able to pull off a suit and still look like a grungy, hot mess of a man, YOU CAN’T HAVE BOTH AT THE SAME TIME DEANFORD. 

… Okay so I have a little bit of a thing for bloody Dean, sue me. He seems content, therefore I am as well.

Look at this little cutie golfing, aw. I cannot honestly imagine this dork golfing, but instead driving the golf carts into random places. 

So soft, so cute, so yes.

*pew pew* 


Okay, but if this isn’t the cutest picture you have ever seen, then really, what is? Becuase okay, let’s just start with how sweet and pure and FUCKING BLUE HIS EYES ARE BECAUSE WOW OKAY, WHY DON’T WE JUST INSTALL LASERS IN THEM SO YOU CAN FINISH KILLING ME WITH THEM???? And okay, the little tongue sticking out? Wow, 12/10, please. AND HIS LITTLE THUMBS UP? WOW. And it’s raining, like imagine this giant dork in the rain??? HIS HAIR IS ALL WET AND LIKE KINDA CURLY AND HE’S GOT THE SCRUFFY AND I’M SORRY I’LL STOP NOW, I AM SORRY I AM, not really lmao.

…. Those black shorts are gonna kill me, wtf.


*me all the time, 24/7, about everything* 


Blurry but still WOW?????? 

Okay, I love wrapping hands and wrists, it’s so sexy??? 


>.> I mean, or I can just keep you? No? Okay. 



Back again with the black shorts

This just reminds me of Bugs Bunny saying “Put ‘em up, put ‘em up.” 

Renee took this photo, and I honestly LOVE THEM TOGETHER SO MUCH, WOW THEY ARE SO CUTE???? I know they aren’t together in the picture BUT WOW I SHIP THEM THEY ARE ADORABLE AND I HOPE THEY NEVER CHANGE. 

… Sweaty, shirtless Dean. Mama likely. 

Fluffy Dean

“Hey Shannon, why do you have so many pictures of Dean working out?” “I mean, I-” *FUCKING RUNS AWAY* 

I am trying to lip read here, and all I see is ‘What the table?’ 


This is like one of the Office moments.

Originally posted by dean-ambroselover

NOW SISSY THAT WALK. I’m sorry I have no control, I’ll make a real comment, hot dang like a summer choir, walk a little slower why don’t ya Deano? 

Originally posted by valstepiro

I know I shouldn’t be attracted to him smoking, I’M SORRY MOM, I KNOW I’M A HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT BUT THIS IS SO ATTRACTIVE TO ME, I DON’T????

Originally posted by deanambroseismines

Okay wow, this wins. This wins everything. My heart. My life. Everything, I literally am speechless, I CANNOT THINK OF A PROPER SECNTENCE THIS IS TAKING SO MUCH CONCENTRATION BECAUSE HE IS ASO BEAUTFIUL???? 

Originally posted by iletyoudowniknow

Look at these happy little goobers, I love them so much. Are they giggling over going over a speed bump? They’re literally the ccutest and will be the death of me

Originally posted by ambrollinsasylum

More evidence that this is a huge dork, I REPEAT DEAN AMBROSE IS A HUGE DORK WHO DESERVES ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD (and the WWE World Championship, amiright) 

Originally posted by thesawcesomeone

Listen, this is me about 98% of the time. Sometimes, they’re not drunken. 

Originally posted by thearchitectwwe

Any questions? No?? This post is made possible by the floofy Dean Ambrose fic my fav wrote @hardcorewwetrash (I suggest you all follow her 5ever, because everything she writes is the ALSO IT’S THIRST PARTY SATURDAY AND GUESS WHO I’M THIRSTY FOR, HAHAHAHAHA, everyone, the answer is everyone. 

fornhaus  asked:

i saw you have some recs for good fluff hurt/comfort sterek, may i request them?

I don’t really have any good fluff recs (again, I’m not big on just fluff), but since they’re h/c some of these of course contain fluff. But yeah, here’s some general hurt/comfort. Some of these are short and there’s, like, direct hurt/comfort, while others are much longer and there is both hurt and comfort at certain points. Regardless, they’re all awesome. Enjoy!

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

Don’t Speak by fatale

The Alpha pack has systematically attacked Stiles and his friends for months, testing their strengths and weaknesses. When one of the Alphas goes after Stiles, he awakens in the hospital and realizes that something’s wrong. Very wrong. All sounds seem to hurt him, he can’t understand what anyone is saying, and when he tries to speak, it’s gibberish. How is he supposed to deal with the fact that he’s lost the ability to communicate with his dad and his friends?

Without his ability to talk, his sarcasm, and his wit, what does Stiles even have left? Enter Derek, the only one who seems to make it better.

Sanctuary by darkmagess

Starts where 3B stops, with Kate attacking Derek in the loft. She kidnaps him to Mexico, and Stiles, Scott, and Lydia rush to find him before Kate can inflict too much damage. She inflicts enough, and Derek retreats into his mind to escape the horrors of his situation. The Derek they find is not the one that left Beacon Hills.

Keep reading

The Legendary Event

This is strictly for people who follow me. I will only reblog/post from those who follow me. If you want to partake in this event, follow me! Thank you to pandaboiiiiii they were my 2000th follower!!!!!

Hello, darlings! I reached 2,000 followers, and to celebrate I thought I would make an event in which you guys send in your work to me, and I post it here! I might make a whole separate account for this. (If I did, link HERE)

You don’t need to ‘sign up’ for the event, just submit your work or tag me in it and I’ll post/reblog it! The tag for this event will be ‘The Legendary Event’, so please tag that in your tags as well! If you don’t want me to post your work, but still want me to see it, message me the post or in the tags put ‘please do not reblog/post muk’ and I’ll just read/look at it!

Now, I bet you’re wondering. What are these days? Well, the list is below the cut, sorry! First and foremost, these days are all up for interpretation! And any voltron character can be included! If you really like Olia - go for it! Or Kolivan, or Kaltenecker, or Bi Boh Bii. ANYONE!

The point is to have fun! Be indulgent! Let your kinks shine through on the NSFW day! (there’s an alternate sfw option for those who don’t like nsfw) There will be no hate tolerated during this event! (in fact, no hate tolerated PERIOD.) JUST HAVE FUN!

Days listed below the cut!

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this fic is gonna be way longer than I anticipated

Sherlock’s favorite part of their morning routine has always been watching John make breakfast. Before he would find excuses to be in the kitchen while John went through the motions of getting ready to start the day. Sometimes Sherlock had an experiment that needed tending, sometimes he used his petulant side to his advantage, but he would always position himself for the best view. Now, he doesn’t need an excuse as he watches his lover prepare breakfast. Sherlock watches unabashedly at the rise of the shirt, revealing the low dip at the base of John’s spine, as John reaches for an item Sherlock intentionally set just out of reach. He smiles at the soft sounds John’s bare feet make as he pads around the kitchen, humming to himself as he goes through his routine. John is of course aware of the undivided attention he has. It used to embarrass him, now he just ducks his head and grins at knowing.
Most mornings, Sherlock is able to resist the tug that smile does to him. But some mornings, like today, he can’t. Swiftly he rises from his chair and pulls the mug out of John’s hand, setting it on the counter with a loud thunk. John’s grin widens and he pulls Sherlock into a deep kiss, his hips on Sherlock’s waist. They spend unknown minutes lazily enjoying the feel of each other’s lips, slow kisses, lingering sighs, happily taking the moments in. There’s no case waiting, no need to rush. Eventually, John’s stomach rumbles, reminding them that, yes they do need to actually eat. John pulls back with a giggle and Sherlock smirks at him, before he returns to the table to enjoy his view.

the second half of cynderbird‘s prize for my giveaway. (560 words: the Inquisitor and children belong to her.)
Triplets make it difficult for Cullen Rutherford and Sophia Lavellan to spend any time alone together. 

Cullen didn’t dare breathe.

Three lumps of curly blond hair rose and fell along with his chest as his children lay curled up on top of him, their drool soaking through his undershirt. Most days, he would’ve traded anything for a moment of silence from the triplets. But this? He’d spent near fifteen minutes twisting and turning his body, trying to slide them off. Each attempt led to a louder grumble and tiny hands tightening on his shirt.

He glanced to the door where his wife kept a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking in a barely suppressed laugh.

Help me, he mouthed.

Sophia was grinning as she crept into the room, coming to stand beside the couch.

“Help me,” he whispered.

“Why? You look so comfortable.”

Cullen had to fight back his pout. His eyes ran appreciatively down the thin shift she wore, enjoying how poorly it hid the shape of her body from him. “But the children,” he said in a half-whine. It felt like months since they’d all been asleep at the same time, and years since he’d held his wife close without the nagging worry that a nightmare of shadows would wake one of them into screams. “Please, vhenan?”

Sophia grinned, her vallaslin crinkling in a way that always made him want to kiss the markings. Leaning over, the thin material fell from her shoulder; his fingers twitched with the desire to touch the smooth skin, to pull the rest of the shift from her body, to–Cullen blanched as Leo rubbed his eyes, blabbering in his sleep.

Sophia scooped the little boy into her arms, craddling him as she hummed one of the songs from her clan. Cullen grinned as his son relaxed, the gathering frown easing from his face. Setting him down in his crib and tucking the blanket beneath his chin, Sophia returned for Catherine as she continued to hum. Cullen watched for a moment, the gentle notes pulling at his own eyes, before he rolled onto his side, taking Phoebe to join her siblings.

“Think they’ll stay asleep this time?” he asked beneath his breath, arms wrapping around Sophia’s waist.

“Mmm. Hope so.” Her neck tilted back with a sigh when he placed a few absent kisses against her skin.

He pulled her closer. “I missed you, vhenan.”

“I missed you too.” She turned and caught him in a kiss, fingers caressing his cheek. “But what if you showed me how much you missed me next door in that lovely bed of ours.” She smirked as she tugged him towards the hall. The floor creaked beneath her step. They both froze, half-inside, the tension mounting as they waited for–

Cullen groaned openly when Leo started to squirm against his blankets, face contorting in silent anguish before his cry echoed in the small room, awakening his sisters. “Every time,” he said, head falling onto Sophia’s shoulder. She pecked his cheek.

“I’ll take care of them. You should go rest; I could store the entire armory in the bags under your eyes.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded with a smile. “On one condition, Commander.”

“Name it.”

“Your wife will be expecting something extra the next time you finish one of your missions.”

Cullen grinned, catching her about the waist to give her a proper kiss before they parted. “Consider it done.”