hiii!!! waves waves waves!!!
i've had so much on my plate for the past like. week. so i've been yearning for some cozy cuddle time. could i perhaps request some snuggles with fell? i wanna bury my face in his fluffy jacket (and nibble on him and bother him a lil) while watching video essays or pirated movies or something. just some comfy chill stuff with him <3
tthis one was fighting me so bad omg omg. i couldnt fit in the nibbles, im so sorry. i was fighting for my life writing this, idk why i was struggling so bad. And sorry your week was rough D: that shii suckz ass sometimes. Hopefully this'll lighten the mood????(?)
"Last Minute Movie Date"
'You barge into their house and demand cuddles from your boy."
Word Count: 1,300
Pairing: Red x Reader
You can tell that Edge fears no porch pirate.
There's five packages out in the open on their front steps, and it's well past 8pm right now. These boxes must've been here a million years (one full day), what is Edge's problem?
May as well nab them and do the boys a favor. Your one good deed before you go and bother the snot out of your boy toy.
On polite reflex, and with a very weird grip on three of five packages in both arms, you go to knock on the door—before remembering that you can just walk the hell in.
What're they gonna do, throw a bone at you?
Most Edge will do is—
You open the door, and he's already looking at you from the open kitchen, dish apron strapped on and a soapy plate in hand. "WHAT IS IT YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING ON MY PROPERTY SO LATE AT NIGHT?"
Yell.
Stepping through the frame with no care at his threatening volume, you move to plop the packages down on the nearby sidetable they keep keys and bags and whatnot on. Taking your sweet time, really. "If you didn't want intruders, you should consider locking your doors. You literally never do."
"NO, I DON'T CARE FOR THAT." You can still hear him even as you go back outside for the remaining two boxes. "YOU SHOULD NOT BE OUT SO LATE IN THE EVENING! IT IS DANGEROUS BY YOURSELF."
…Oh, "That's awful sweet, I think? But it's not like I walked here."
He just grunts. Loudly, of course.
"I will be walking up to your brother's room to mess with him, though. Good night."
Another, louder grunt.
…
He bids a bit more of a 'proper' goodbye that you hear from where you're already at, way up the stairs around the corner, "THANK YOU FOR THE PACKAGES!"
"Yep! Whatever!"
Red had a lock on his doorknob a few months ago til a petty squabble ended up in the lock being removed for a smooth handle, much to everyone's (Red's, mostly) displeasure.
Edge's displeasure in the sense that he was torn a whole new one in a fist fight, and Red's because he no longer has privacy.
Sucks for him.
You open his bedroom door wide like you own the place, and there he is. Back turned to you and lounging in his messy yet incredibly comfortable nest of a bed.
It's remarkably dark. His black-out curtains are doing the most phenomenal job of snuffing out the lights. You only know Red's on his bed—and can see him—is because he's got his phone on and shining bright enough to illuminate the immediate space of him and his bed.
You're only not over by his side already because you're afraid of what could possibly be littering his bedroom floor. He doesn't deal in laundry hampers.
And also he has a winning streak of chucking things at Edge whenever he barges in, like what you've just done.
Red doesn't always look to see who it is before he throws things, so, for precaution you're staying put in case you have to dodge—although you really could have knocked to avoid the whole thing. But there's simply no fun in playing it that safe, y'know?
The mattress creaks as he props on an elbow and looks over his shoulder, a lone red eyelight breaking through the dark and silhouetted by the brightness of his phone.
Okay, that's intimidating.
He squints, "the hell's yer deal? quit standing there and git o'er here."
…You're going to ignore how calm he's being. It's hard to clock a man's behaviors when he switches up so frequently. All that 'he throws things' talk and for what? "That's tempting and all, but how clean is your floor?"
You quickly find that the answer is it's not alright to traverse blindly.
Red makes the whiniest grunt ever, not wanting to move, but he'll do it for you. Begrudgingly rolling (flopping) over onto his back and the other side of the bed to reach across to his nightstand, where he taps the base of his touch-lamp and it comes on.
The first thing your peripheral catches is the laundry hamper with pants slung over it. Rest of his dirty wardrobe is on the floor.
An attempt was made, you suppose. You'll train him yet.
Your attention's caught by his little audible huff, and you make eye contact with him again.
His expression is soft, a face reserved for you alone, but his voice and attitude remain grumpy like he's afraid of being caught lacking, "what d'you want?"
"Preferably to take my anger out on something." You make your way over, doing what feels like parkour around his clothes.
Red starts to visibly sweat at the double-meaning implications, which you've worded on purpose to mess with him, and he chooses the safer option, "…in, like.. what way? am i about to get my shit rocked?"
He lightly flinches when you start getting into bed with him, immediately going into nervous ramblings, "woah there, cheetah—i get i'm in boxers, but i ain't one. you don't—"
"Oh my God, shut up and make room."
Red shrinks in on himself and promptly sits up, "yes, dear."
He shuffles all the way to against the wall, making sure he doesn't take any unnecessary amount of blanket with him so you can have your share, and you make yourself right at home in his space. In his bed. Under his covers and taking one of his pillows like it were yours.
Or, well… It actually is yours.
He never owned more than one pillow before meeting you. And after finding that you'd be sticking around longer than any relationship he's ever had, he went through the trouble of making his space welcoming.
Starting with spare pillows.
And also with his attitude.
Red's grown softer. He readily lays out his arm in offering for you to rest your head on instead of the pillow, which you take.
It would've been uncomfortable, given he's got no meat on him, but his jacket is so thick that it makes up for all of it.
Now, you're not sure why he's wearing his thick ass jacket inside whilst lounging in his bed like he plans on falling asleep soon, but whatever. His ways of living are sometimes lost on you.
He greedily tucks you into himself with a shimmy of his arm you're on, and he scoots just as close to meet you halfway.
The blanket's fyumped over the two of you, nice and cozy, and he draws his phone back out. High in front for you to see clearly, too.
"wanna watch wi'h me?"
It's… is that Bumblebee from Transformers? On YouTube?
He clocks your only slightly judgmental expression and flicks your forehead with the arm you're resting on, "it was a free movie, git off your high horse."
"Yeah, but how many times do I need to offer you the streaming service I already pay for? It takes nothing to make you your own account."
"shut up and watch the movie, dipshit."
You don't think your eyes could roll any farther back, but when he rewinds the movie to the beginning for you, and adjusts himself to be able to scratch your head, you very quickly decide his insolence can be forgiven.
Fat chance you may just fall asleep like this, actually. He's warm, and the attention to your head and fingers through your hair is lulling.
You dip your head a little farther into the crook of his shoulder, right into the dense fluff of his hood. It's nice. He's nice.
He follows, tilting his head to nudge yours gently in a nuzzle, "comfortable?"
You make a noise similar to an affirmative.
