#touchy feely

[kittenpaws93]

[fir-fireweed]

hello, hello! my MC is fire attuned and i just thought it’d be especially funny if they were just a generally very touchy person. like they love all the hugs, shoulder bumps, knee touches and all done without much thought. just a touchy person tm (without making others uncomfy of course)

so with that in mind, how would the RO’s fare with a casually touchy MC? both as a reaction to MC’s casual touches to them and casual touches to others?

Hi anon! I, too, am a rather touchy feely person. If I had a nickel for every hug, hand hold, shoulder clasp, face touch, lean, etc I write, I could probably quit my day job, lol. If you pay close attention, you’ll see Cantata absolutely inundated with touching. 😅

We’ve already seen the ROs’ reactions to casual touching if you gave Bayram a hug last chapter, but I can expand on that a bit.

As we know, Calliope likes her hugs, and she’d welcome every touch she receives from MC. But she also gets jealous and a little grumpy over an MC who’s touchy with others, even if it’s casual.

Corinne loves touch, that’s her love language. Those touches from MC would make her melty. She wouldn’t mind an MC who’s touchy feely with others, as long as she knows where she stands with you; she doesn’t like trying to guess intentions. As long as MC is open and upfront about it, it’s cool.

Vicente doesn’t like others touching them, unless he’s initiated/allowed it. It’s not an aversion to touch so much as it’s an aversion to the presumed familiarity. Hence, their bewilderment when they don’t mind MC’s touches. And as long as they know MC is touchy feely like that, they won’t mind them touching others. But the recipient better know damn well it’s just platonic and not try to reciprocate!

Bayram is the most at ease with a casually touchy MC, whether to him or others. He’d love any touch from MC and he wouldn’t sweat any casual touching they do.

Tellus would appreciate a casually touchy MC, though he’d be very bashful about it, overthinking every touch. And not jealous or overly sensitive when MC touches others. Nope. Not at all. Fully self assured and confident individual right here.

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.8  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.10??

p.9

AN: this took a minute, but I was finishing the outline for a few of the other chapters and a few other works I've been doing. I was off from work for a bit, went back, had a set of traumatic back to back days. and well, writers block is one hell of a thing, y'know? aaaand with the seasonal changes I'm just tired maybe a bit down. but thank you guys for your love and support!

warnings: this story may cover sensitive and uncomfortable topics. please read at your own risk, violence, lashings, blood, mental breakdowns, yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside your moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

threats and cwuddles

an: i said what i said

How utterly pointless.

There he was, standing before the pathetic excuse for a man—the one you called uncle, the so-called leader of your disgraceful clan. The ridiculous get up had him holding back a joke, as the man seemed to sneer down at him. His expression oozing disdain—as if he wasn't even worth the effort of a proper glance.

Toji nearly laughed at the sheer audacity.

This man, puffed up with self-importance and brimming with hollow authority, presumed to have the upper hand?

Absolutely comedic.

Toji let his eyes drift over the man slowly, deliberately, as if assessing a weak opponent in a fight he knew he’d already won. Everything about him screamed mediocrity wrapped in false power—his carefully pressed robes, the practiced tilt of his chin, the way he held his hands behind his back as if it really added weight to his presence.

But Toji saw through it all. He always did.

Authority like this was a farce. A staged act meant to instill fear in those who’d never known freedom. And Toji? He was already a foot out the door. And he didn’t play by their rules. Not now. Not ever.

He could kill him in seconds...if he really wanted to. 

"So," Toji said, his voice dripping with derision. "This is the man in charge, huh? Can’t say I’m impressed. You look more like an angry little chihuahua guarding a bone that isn’t even yours."

Your clan leader's sneer faltered for a second at his blatant disrespect. It wasn't often someone so ill-mannered showed their face in his estate, let alone had the audacity to open their mouth in front of him.

But they were all the same to Toji—weak, predictable, and utterly worthless.

Toji wasn’t the type to be a hero—never had been, never would be. Kindness just wasn’t in his nature, and every decision he made came with a price. He didn’t hand out favors for free, and he certainly didn’t involve himself in someone else’s mess out of the goodness of his heart.

So why was he here?

The answer was annoyingly simple.

you.

Maybe it was because, technically, he was your husband. Sure, it was only in name, but the fact remained. Or maybe it was because of Megumi—his dumb, lovesick son—whose actions, if not his words, made it painfully clear just how deeply his affections for you ran. 

From the surface, Toji could make excuses, just how he may have when he first picked you up from this clan. But deep down, way below—in the dark recesses of his mind, Toji understood the real reason.

It wasn’t about obligation or some half-hearted attempt to help Megumi.

It was the moment you'd broken down in his arms.

Sobbing, so uncharacteristically vulnerable, your back covered in those deep, fresh lashes—five if he counted correctly. Clinging onto him, in a way you hadn't ever done before, even when Megumi had been ignoring you. And he could see the scars from previous lashings. Some faint, a light pink indention, and others a solid light purple.

He wasn’t good at comforting people—really. And what good was an assassin in that situation?—but something in that moment had made his head snap. And a mix of different memories and bottled-up emotions compelled him forward. He'd never made impulsive decisions. And Toji Fushiguro was never one for kindness.

But now, here he was. Standing in front of your uncle, the so-called leader of your clan, ready to do something he knew was reckless. Something that could potentially mess things up for both you and his son. A defensive action like this could easily hint at a deeper relationship between the two of you, which was not something he really wanted. These geezers weren't brand new to mind games, but neither was he. And, sure, he could just kill the guy, but that seemed like way too much effort. A few choice words should handle it.

"So, tell me...why is the Toji Fushiguro bothering to grace me with his presence? I can’t imagine you're here to meet the in-laws?" He was fishing, hoping he would rise to the occasion, hint at any personal glimpse into the killer before him.

Toji didn’t take the bait. He just stood there, calm as ever, his face giving nothing away. God, did he hate these clan politics. His dark eyes casually swept the room, clearly bored—not impressed by the fancy decor, not intimidated by the guards at the doors, and definitely not by your uncle. Honestly, he'd rather be back home, digging into some of your homemade yakitori. This whole thing was turning out to be a real drag.

"What’s the matter? Are you just here to puff your chest and waste my time?" He's getting antsy now,

Toji’s lips twitched into an almost imperceptible smirk. His gaze razor-sharp, locking onto the older man. There was a pause as your uncle locked eyes on Toji's. Unmoving, unflinching, before Toji took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance just enough to make the clan leader stiffen. "You know," Toji said, his voice casual, almost conversational, "it’s funny. For a guy so full of himself, you’re awfully quiet about those welts you sent her home with."

Your uncle's eyes widened—but only for a moment, leaning back with mock nonchalance. "Welts? I have no idea what you're talking about. And what's it to you anyway? Don't tell me you've actually caught feelings for her?"

"Feelings? Don’t kid yourself. I’m not here to play hero, and I’m definitely not here for her." Toji shrugged casually, tossing his head to the side and leaning back to give him some room, his eyes flicking over the clan leader, as if taking his question seriously. "But let’s be honest—she doesn’t look as hot in bed when she’s got all those welts. Kinda ruins the mood, you know?"

Stunned, the clan leader chuckled uneasily, trying to regain some semblance of control. He shouldn't have been too surprised given the Sorcerer Killers stellar reputation for the debauched lifestyle. You were technically his wife afterall, "Ah, well—that makes more sense. Using the whore for what she's worth, I guess." Toji could practically hear your resale value dropping by the second, as the clan leader processed this thought before continuing in an almost thoughtful murmur. "Just here to make sure your toy stays intact."

"Call it whatever you want. I don’t care. But if you think I’ll let you mark her skin up again, then you’re even dumber than you look."

The clan leader’s sneer returned, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. Much like a petulant child, not getting his way. "And if I don’t? What then, Fushiguro? You’ll kill me?" Now lets not go putting ideas into his head...

Toji let out a low chuckle, shaking back in laughter at the fear creeping into his voice. "Kill you? Nah. You’re not worth the effort." He paused, feigning a change of heart as his voice dropped, leaning in again for the kill, his words a hefty weight. "Actually, maybe I’ll stick around. Tear this whole place apart just for fun. I hate this sorcerer bullshit anyway. Watching your precious clan crumble might actually make my day."

The clan leader’s face twitched, his bravado faltering again under Toji’s unrelenting gaze, his words hanging in the air-message loud and clear.

"Fine," he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. "If it means that much to you, no more marks. No need to make this a bigger deal than it is."

Toji smirked, satisfied. He stepped back as he turned toward the door. "Good. Glad we could see eye to eye," he said oh so smoothly.

With that, he strode out, leaving your uncle in an uncomfortable silence. Toji knew the man wouldn’t see him as anything but a threat, and that was exactly what he wanted. As long as they kept their grubby hands off you, he didn’t care what they thought—or what he had to say to make them believe it. And hopefully your home clan wouldn't go around making decisions on this calculated move alone.

Now, it was time for some well-deserved meat.

Thankfully, your clan visits were few and far between.

The trip home that day had been nothing short of brutal, and your clan head’s disdainful disregard for how you might explain the aftermath to your husband lingered in your mind like a bitter aftertaste.

The weeks dragged on, and before you knew it, the seasons had shifted. Fall gave way to winter, winter melted into spring, and eventually, summer arrived again. Yet, Megumi’s absence remained a constant despite the seasonal changes. 

Determined to stay connected despite the distance, you’d picked up a cell phone not long after Megumi left. Toji had handed over both his and Megumi's numbers with his usual air of indifference. “In case of emergencies,” he’d said, tossing the paper onto the table like it was no big deal. But to you, it was. Your focus had been on one number only: Megumi’s. He was the hardest to reach anyways. 

What would you even say? Hi, how are you? Too formal. I miss you already. Too much. The hesitation gnawed at you. After a few moments, you settled on something simple and sent it off, heart pounding in the silence that followed.

Megumi’s replies, however, had been scarce—short, distant, and frustratingly neutral. You tried not to let it sting, reasoning that he was busy adjusting to his new life at Jujutsu Tech. He had training, studies, and an entirely new world to navigate. But the lack of insight into his world left you feeling unmoored and oh so helpless.

Did he eat well? Was he overworking himself? Did he even want to hear from you? The unanswered questions piled up, an invisible weight pressing on your chest.

When his birthday came, you’d agonized over whether to call, but the fear of interrupting—or worse, being brushed off—kept your fingers from dialing. Instead, you texted him, wishing him a happy birthday in a message that felt far too impersonal. Hours later, his reply came: a simple thank you.

It was polite, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t tell you if he was happy, if he’d smiled at your message, if he’d even thought of you beyond that brief acknowledgment. The distance between you felt larger than ever, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was slipping further away—or if you were.

You hoped—prayed—that he’d found some happiness at school. That maybe the time away had helped him grow, helped him heal in ways you couldn’t. You wondered if his sharp tongue and stubborn attitude had softened enough to allow for real friendships. Did he smile more? Did he laugh? You pictured him in that new world, surrounded by people who might understand him better.

As summer approached, anticipation and unease twisted in your chest, a slow, suffocating knot that tightened with each passing day. The thought of seeing him again stirred a mix of emotions—excitement, yes, but also a quiet fear that plagued you. Would he still look at you with that same guarded expression? Would the distance he’d created remain? Would he persist with questions you couldn't answer?

His parting words haunted you, echoing in the quiet moments when your mind wandered too far. You replayed that last conversation over and over, dissecting every syllable, every pause, every look. The unspoken questions lingered like ghosts: Had you done enough? Said enough? You’d wished, countless times, that you’d found the right words to ease the tension before he left.

Now, with the summer sun creeping closer, you could only wonder if it was too late to mend what had been broken—or if it had been broken at all.

And then, one quiet afternoon, he came home.

The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt through you. Without thinking, you found yourself halfway down the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you saw him, you froze—and so did he.

He stood in the doorway, his tall frame outlined by the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. A faint breeze followed him in, tousling his hair and leaving it slightly messy, adding to the disheveled charm he carried so effortlessly. His piercing eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away.

Neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, laden but charged, his gaze lingering on your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail. He looked different—older, his features sharper, his presence more commanding. You still found yourself struggling to recognize him each time you saw him—such a common occurrence now that it was almost expected. There was something in his eyes, something softer, more vulnerable. He looked like he wanted to say something.

“Megumi,” you whispered, full of hesitance. Your voice almost broke under the weight of the moment, a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

He didn’t move, his hands still gripping the straps of the bag slung over his shoulder. For a second, you thought he wouldn’t respond. Then he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he stepped further inside.

“Hey,” he said softly, the warmth in his voice wrapping around you like a balm. It was a simple word, but it carried so much—a mixture of relief, uncertainty, and something deeper—something unfamiliar, that made your chest well up.

You’d missed him more than you dared to admit. More than you’d allowed yourself to feel during the long months of silence. And now, standing here, the space between you felt both impossibly vast and achingly small.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, without a second thought, you closed the space between you and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffened, caught off guard, before slowly, his arms came up to hold you, and to your surprise, he hugged you back. Not hesitantly or awkwardly, but fully, his arms wrapping securely around you and pulling you close, almost flush to him. His head dipped down, his nose brushing against your hair as he held you firmly against his chest.

“Welcome home,” you murmured, unable to keep the brittleness from your tone, your cheek pressed against him. The words felt fragile, as though the moment might shatter if you spoke too loudly.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you felt him exhale, a deep, contented sigh that seemed to come from somewhere buried deep inside. His nose pushed further into your hair, and his grip tightened just enough to knock the breath out of you.

“I missed you,” his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness. You hadn't expected it, the sentiment not lost on you. It'd been too long, the texts too short, and the emptiness of the house too loud. But the way his arms enveloped you, strong and protective, took away all of those negative feelings.

Your arms tightened around him in return, head still laying on his chest. The words slipping from your lips, practically dripping with affection. “I missed you too.”

Finally, after what felt like both seconds and forever, he shifted slightly, loosening his hold just enough for you to pull back. When your eyes met his again, you couldn't help the small smile plastered on your face. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, and it sent a bittersweet ache through your chest, a feeling you didn’t quite know how to name.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “You text a lot, you know that?”

A soft laugh bubbled out of you. “And you’re terrible at replying.”

“Dinner’s already started,” remembering the pan still on the stove. “You’re probably starving.”

He didn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering on your arms as if reluctant to let the moment end. “Yeah,” his voice low, as a faint flush crept up his cheeks, he finally stepped back. “Starving.”

You gave him a warm smile, brushing your hand lightly against his arm before turning toward the kitchen. Even as you moved away, you could feel his gaze lingering on you from behind—heavy, unrelenting, and more present that he previously was. Whatever walls had been between you before—whatever distance he’d tried to create—seemed to crumble in that quiet, intimate moment. Just what happened while he was at school?

Dinner that night was warm and comforting, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in what felt like forever.

“So, how was school? Are you making any friends?” you chirp, pacing around the kitchen, so aware of his eyes tracing your every movement. The excitement in your tone was impossible to miss, a lightness that hadn’t been there in months. After so many quiet dinners with only Toji for company, the thought of someone else at the table made you relieved. Even if the two of you had been getting along better recently.

Megumi glanced up from his plate, pausing for a moment before answering. “It’s...fine,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I’m focused on my training. That’s what matters.”

You hummed, a small smile tugging at your lips. You don't miss the evasiveness of his answer. “Still, I hope you’re finding time to enjoy yourself, even just a little.”

He didn’t respond right away, fiddling with his food, his gaze briefly dropping to his plate.

“Make any friends?” you try again, gently.

“A few,” he admitted, his tone reluctant but not dismissive.

“Really?” you hum out again, glancing over your shoulder at him. You wanted him to open up to you, but with his nature it wasn't exaclty going to be easy to get him to talk. “Anyone special?”

He shrugged, eyes still downcast. “Not really,” he replied, his voice neutral but you saw the way he trailed off, lost in his own thoughts.

You paused, raising an eyebrow at him, deciding to press a little more. “C’mon, Megumi,” you teased lightly, turning back to the stove. Your tone intentionally unserious. “I know you’re not that antisocial. You’ve got to be opening up a little, right?”

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the expression didn’t quite land. “It’s fine,” he groaned, though his tone softened slightly, as if the question hadn’t entirely annoyed him. “I’ve been busy.”

You hummed again in acknowledgment, not pushing him further, but your smile lingered. You were just glad to have him here, back where he belonged. Actually talking to you. Even if he wasn’t saying much, his presence spoke volumes.

Your questions continued easily—about school, his classes, his life outside of the house—and though his answers were typically grumpy and brief, you didn’t mind. It was the fact that he was answering at all, the fact that he wasn’t shutting you out, that made it all feel worthwhile. You didn’t dare bring up the tension from last summer, not wanting to risk spoiling the fragile good mood.

Toji was out for the night, leaving the house blissfully quiet, and Megumi made no comment on the food, though he cleaned his plate for the second time. It was a small victory, but it still left you smiling as you settled onto the couch afterward.

Megumi surprised you by sitting beside you. He didn’t say anything, just crossed his arms and leaned back, his expression neutral as you put on a movie. Sure, he'd sat near you before, but the long months that followed his absence made you tense a bit. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the movie you put on, but you heard no complaints.

At some point, exhaustion crept up on you. The day had been long, and the warmth of the room, combined with Megumi’s quiet, steady presence, lulled you into sleep. Without realizing it, you shifted slightly, leaning toward him, your head eventually coming to rest against his shoulder.

Megumi, of course, noticed immediately.

He stiffened at first, his entire body going rigid as he felt the soft weight of you curling against him. His breath hitched, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would break out of his chest. His mind screamed at him to stay still, to not move or make a sound.

But then he glanced down.

You looked so peaceful, so utterly at ease with him, and it sent a surge of emotions through him that he could barely contain. Warmth, nervousness, longing—it all tangled together, leaving him frozen in place. The faint light from the television cast soft shadows across your face, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

You trusted him so much, leaned into him so easily, and it made him ache with something deep and primal. He didn’t know if he deserved this—if he deserved you—but he couldn’t stop himself from savoring the moment.

Tentatively, he allowed himself to relax, his shoulder shifting slightly to give you more room. His fingers twitched in his lap, aching to reach out and brush a stray strand of hair from your face, but he held himself back. He couldn’t ruin this.

He stayed like that, unmoving, as you curled closer, your breathing soft and even against him. Every part of him burned with the overwhelming need to keep you like this, to hold you, to never let you go. 

When the movie ended, and the room fell into quiet stillness, he carefully reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. Gently, he pulled it over you, his hand brushing your arm as he tucked it around you. The brief contact sent a shiver down his spine, but he forced himself to pull away.

He refused to leave, wanting to be with you like this as long as possible. 

p.1

p.10

come home

[wewerealwaysthere]

[eeechooo]

Just Maybe

Fandom : Lockwood and Co. Pairing : Female Reader x George Karim Request : @sarahhelpimsinking "Reader is also part of Lockwood and co and they are really close, but George starts to get super attentive and touchy and she starts to catch in and mess with him, happy ending."

You were still buzzing with the adrenaline of the latest job as you climbed into the back of the cab with Lucy. The boys took the front seats, Lockwood chatting animatedly with the driver about something you couldn't quite hear. You settled into your seat, letting out a sigh of relief. The job had been a close call, but you had all come out unscathed.

Lucy leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "I am telling you, something is wrong."

You turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She glanced towards the front where George and Lockwood were deep in conversation. "George. He's been acting weird."

"Weird how?" you asked, genuinely curious. George had always been a bit of an enigma, but you figured you knew him well enough.

Lucy rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated. "He's been all... touchy. And he's never like that."

You frowned, thinking back to the events of the night. George had been more... present than usual, sticking close to you, even holding your hand during a particularly tense moment. But you brushed it off. "He was just scared, Lucy. It was a tough case. Anyone would be a little more... clingy."

Lucy shook her head, her expression sceptical. "I don't buy it. I've seen George scared before, and he doesn't get touchy. He gets quiet and intense, but not touchy."

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. "Look, George and I are just really close friends. Maybe he felt safer with me nearby. It's not a big deal."

Lucy gave you a look that said she didn't believe a word you were saying. "Close friends, sure. But he's been different lately. More attentive. Haven't you noticed?"

You shrugged, trying to brush off the growing unease in your chest. "We've all been under a lot of stress. Maybe he's just... I don't know, reacting to that."

Lucy crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. "Maybe. But I still think there's more to it. Just... keep an eye on him, okay?"

You nodded, more to placate her than anything else. "Fine, I'll keep an eye on him. But I still think you're overreacting."

Lucy sighed, leaning back and staring out the window. "We'll see. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

You turned your attention to the front of the cab, watching George as he animatedly discussed something with Lockwood. You couldn't help but smile. Whatever Lucy thought, you knew George better than anyone. And if there was something more to his behaviour, you were sure you would notice it. Eventually.

For now, you were content to brush off Lucy's concerns and enjoy the calm after the storm. But a small part of you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was onto something.

The next morning, you made your way downstairs, still shaking off the remnants of sleep. The house was unusually quiet, a stark contrast to the usual hustle and bustle. As you reached the kitchen, you found a note on the table from Lucy and Lockwood. They had gone to Arif’s shop for some supplies, leaving George in charge of breakfast.

You spotted George at the counter, his back to you as he prepared something. The smell of fresh tea and baked goods filled the room, instantly lifting your mood.

“Morning,” you greeted, sliding into your usual seat at the table.

George turned around, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Morning. Tea and an orange muffin, just how you like it.” He placed the steaming cup and the muffin in front of you, then took the seat next to you.

Your heart did a little flip. It wasn’t unusual for George to make breakfast, but the fact that he had gone out of his way to prepare your favourites made you pause. “Thanks, George. This looks great.”

He nodded, already launching into a detailed recount of his latest research findings. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself drawn into his world of dusty books and ancient lore.

“And then I remembered that the spectral resonance in Type Two ghosts is significantly higher in areas with historical trauma,” George said, his eyes alight with excitement. As he talked, he absentmindedly brushed your arm with his hand.

You felt your brain short circuit for a moment, your skin tingling where he had touched you. It was just George being his usual self, you told yourself. There was nothing more to it. But Lucy’s words from the night before echoed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something you were missing.

You tried to refocus on what he was saying, nodding along, but your thoughts kept drifting. Why was he being so attentive? And why did it matter to you so much?

George must have noticed your distracted state because he suddenly fell silent. You looked up to find him staring at you, a curious expression on his face.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” he said with a smirk.

You blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been staring at me like I’ve grown an extra head. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, quickly looking down at your tea. “Nothing. Just… thinking about your research. It’s fascinating.”

George raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Well, if you ever want to dive deeper into the archives with me, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, the gears in your mind turning. Maybe there was more to George’s behaviour than you had originally thought. And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to see him in a new light.

__

For the next week, you began to notice the subtle changes in George's behaviour. It started small, with him standing a bit closer than usual or offering a hand when you climbed out of the cab after a job. His attentiveness grew more noticeable, and there were times when you caught him looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. 

But then, just as quickly, his demeanour would shift back to his usual sarcastic self. The mixed signals were driving you crazy, leaving you confused and off-balance. One minute he was the George you’d always known, and the next, he was someone new—someone who seemed to see you differently.

It was during a particularly tense moment after a mission that you started to piece it together. The team had just finished a challenging case, and as you all piled back into the cab, George had taken your hand to help you in, his grip lingering a bit longer than necessary. You felt a flutter of something—excitement, maybe?—and you glanced over at him, but his eyes were already back on his notebook, jotting down notes as if nothing had happened.

Lucy, who was sitting next to you in the back, nudged you. “See what I mean?” she whispered, her eyes flicking to George. “He’s never like this.”

You shrugged, still trying to convince yourself it was nothing. “He was just anxious, Lucy. It’s not a big deal.”

Lucy gave you a sceptical look but didn’t press further.

The real turning point came a few days later. You were all gathered in the library, sorting through the latest research for an upcoming case. George was sitting next to you, his knee brushing against yours under the table. You found yourself hyper-aware of his presence, his proximity.

Lockwood was across the room, leaning against the fireplace, watching you both with a knowing look in his eyes. It was a look you couldn’t quite decipher, but it seemed to make George uncomfortable. You noticed that every time Lockwood gave him that look, George would pull back, retreating into his usual sarcastic demeanour.

Like clockwork, it happened again. George was in the middle of explaining a particularly complicated theory about ghostly manifestations, his arm resting on the back of your chair, when Lockwood shot him that look. George immediately withdrew, his tone turning sharp and distant as he redirected his attention to the books spread out on the table.

The shift was jarring, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt and confusion. Why did he keep doing this? What was going on between him and Lockwood that made George act so erratically?

That night, as you lay in bed, your mind raced with thoughts. George’s mixed signals, Lockwood’s strange looks—it all swirled together in a confusing mess. You needed to figure out what was happening, to understand why George’s behaviour was affecting you so much.

The next morning, you woke up with a new resolve. You would get to the bottom of this, no matter what it took. George’s actions were starting to feel like a puzzle, one that you were determined to solve.

__

As the days passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. George’s behaviour continued to oscillate between attentive and distant, leaving you feeling more confused than ever. You realised that while you appreciated his friendship and companionship, you didn’t quite reciprocate the level of physical touch he seemed to crave. You thought you'd never think that, but that was true at the moment.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him or that you didn’t enjoy his company—you did, immensely. But the sudden shift in his behaviour had caught you off guard, and you weren’t sure how to navigate it.

So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Literally. You started to initiate small touches—brushing against his arm as you passed by, resting your hand on his shoulder when you laughed at one of Lockwood’s jokes. You made sure to respect his boundaries, never pushing too far, but you couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed to relax under your touch, his tension melting away ever so slightly.

And then, something strange happened. Lockwood stopped giving George those odd looks. Instead, he watched the two of you with a fondness in his eyes, as if he knew something you didn’t.

It was then that it hit you. Lockwood wasn’t trying to make George distant by giving him those stares. He was scared. Scared that his best friend was going to get hurt if he got too close to you. If it was unrequited.

The realisation hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly everything made sense. The mixed signals, the strange tension between George and Lockwood—it was all because of you.

The pieces finally fell into place.

“Oh. Oh.”.

__

That was when you started to tease him.

The opportunity presented itself while you were grocery shopping together. As you reached for an item on the shelf, your hand brushed against his, ever so subtly. You pretended not to notice, but you felt the slight twitch in his fingers, betraying his surprise. 

“Oh, sorry,” you said innocently, flashing him a quick smile before returning your attention to the task at hand. But you couldn’t help the thrill that ran through you at the contact, the electricity of his touch lingering on your skin.

Another chance came when he complained about his unruly hair one morning. Normally, George couldn’t care less about his appearance, but today seemed different. As he grumbled about his curls, you stepped closer, reaching out to gently smooth them down.

“They’re not that bad,” you remarked, your touch light and fleeting. But as your fingers danced through his hair, you felt him relax under your touch, his shoulders dropping as a sense of calm washed over him. It was a small gesture, but it felt good. Alright, more than good, you had to admit. It felt peaceful.

But perhaps the boldest move came when he mentioned his sore shoulders after a particularly long day. Without a second thought, you moved behind his chair in the kitchen, your hands finding their way to his tense muscles. 

You could feel him tense up at first, his body rigid with surprise. But as your fingers worked their magic, kneading out the knots and tension, you felt him slowly start to relax, his muscles melting under your touch.

“Wow, that feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice low and appreciative. 

You couldn’t help but smirk, enjoying the reaction you were getting out of him. It was fun to see George, usually so composed, let his guard down for once. And if it meant you got to enjoy a few stolen moments of closeness, then all the better. Maybe, just maybe.

__

Then one night, you didn't know if you wanted to kick or kiss your coworkers.

The movie night started out promising enough, with everyone gathered on the couch, snacks in hand, ready for a cozy evening. But as the movie dragged on, it quickly became apparent that it was a snoozefest of epic proportions. Even Lockwood, the eternal optimist regarding his tastes, couldn’t hide his yawns as he struggled to stay awake.

You, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky. Despite your best efforts to stay engaged, the monotony of the film proved too much, and before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, it was still dark outside, the remnants of the movie flickering on the screen. Blinking blearily, you realized that George was lightly snoring beside you, his head resting on your shoulder. You were both lying on the couch, tucked under a blanket, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

Clearly, Lockwood and Lucy had orchestrated this whole thing, choosing the most mind-numbing movie imaginable so that you and George would fall asleep. Sneaky, but effective.

As you shifted slightly, George stirred, his eyes fluttering open to gaze at you with a look that was equal parts dazed and disoriented. It was as if he had just woken up from a particularly bizarre dream, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

“Enjoying the view?” you teased, a playful smirk playing at your lips.

George blinked, his brain still catching up to reality. “Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah. Very scenic,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a giggle. “Smooth, George. Real smooth.”

But despite the sarcasm, there was something undeniably comfortable about the moment. You shifted onto your side to face him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as you both settled back against the cushions.

And then, almost on instinct, George tilted your chin up, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of hesitation and determination. You don't know who initiated it, but without another word, you both leaned in, meeting halfway in a soft, quick kiss that left you both breathless.

As you pulled away from the kiss, the air between you crackling with a newfound tension, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the sound vibrating against George’s lips. He blinked, his eyes still closed as if savoring the moment, before finally opening them to meet yours.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low and tinged with curiosity.

You shook your head, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. “Oh, nothing. Just guessing about how Lockwood and Lucy must be thinking they’re some sort of mastermind matchmakers.”

George’s lips twitched with amusement, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, they do like to meddle, don’t they?”

“Definitely,” you agreed, your laughter bubbling up between you like a shared secret. “But I have to admit, they might be onto something with this whole movie night setup.”

George raised an eyebrow, his gaze locking with yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh? And what do you mean by that?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as your heart raced in your chest. “Just that… maybe there’s something to be said for falling asleep on the couch with your best friend,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

There was a moment of silence as George processed your words, his expression unreadable. But then, without warning, he leaned in again, his lips capturing yours in another kiss that was both soft and electrifying. You both moved gently against each other, fearing the other would break the spell. You both did not. He was the first one, however, to pull back, only slightly to mumble against your lips.

"Just maybe?"

"No, definitely."

This time, there was no laughter, no teasing remarks. No mixed signals, no one around to tell you if what you were doing was good or not. It felt good, that's all that mattered.

And as you lay there in the quiet darkness, tangled together on the couch, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, falling asleep during a boring movie wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

__

okay so i am lowkey proud of that one??? i made it way longer than the others because i found a new way to write and it actually helped a lot! i hope you liked it, it was very fluffy, i tried my best LMAOOOO

i wanted to include lucy and lockwood because they're my favourite matchmakers, but also oh how lockwood is worried for his friend and just doesn't know how to help george so he's just like "yep. just be distant" lucy should slap him but we love a bsf who just wants his happiness AND HE GOT IT

anyways i read too many notes from ao3 authors, have a good day!

taglist : @neewtmas @cielooci @thestrangerblog

(if you don't want to be tagged anymore or want to be just tell me!)

[mrsoulstice]

👋🏾👋🏾

[swsoulmatesdw]

The way Sam and Dean always needed to touch the other for comfort ❤️💙

[screams-in-writing]

Hehehehehehehe :)

This got longer than expected, but hey, more to read, right? A little background explanation, then there’ll be that preview of what I’ll eventually get to in the fic with mc/reader and Mr. Puzzles.

Keep in mind the fics tags/warnings of the fic since this isn’t on ao3 yet (I’ll tag some things for the post)

Also- note that what’s written here may be subject to some change once the chapters prior to it are posted (and that more edits may be done).

Context-this would be once reader and Mr puzzles are on better terms and have actually spent time together-like some of the other snippets I did where mr puzzles shows himself to be very in others space and touch starved. Like, there is interest in MC/reader yet not acted on, both trying to figure where the other stands on an unspoken friendship of around a month and a half (or two) whether it’s mixed with more since it seems a bit too fast for what little Mr. Puzzles has offered up of where he came from.

But teasing? Teasing and verbal sparring seems to be safe until it leads to a hug in the following future chapter. which would be fine for friends, but the whole hugging your friend while they’re shirtless while also checking them out a bit too closely and experiencing emotions is maybe a little past being just friends? Reverse strip tease I think? Hmu if this needs more tags. I think this is toeing the T rating even if I cut some things out.

Ok enough of me yammering. Short Mr puzzles pov, and then the mc/reader’s.

-

I didn’t anticipate for you to visit me at the edge of town in my pitiful, sparse home I’d claimed the first day I’d arrived. 

It was a welcome distraction, however. Though, spending time with you was becoming less a distraction and more surprisingly welcome company. The only problem was that it was not good timing on your part until I belatedly recall that you’d agreed to meet me here today. 

I’d even given you get a set of keys to the place after you convinced me to set locks into the small, dilapidated house if I really wanted to stay there. I highly doubted this would have been able to be done in a large city, without paying for the place. For some reason, there appeared to be pity for me here on town, and that allowed me to somehow stay here in this building for as long as I needed to. 

There is a knock on the door to the chosen ‘bedroom’ but instead of reacting, I found myself frozen in place as I realized my current predicament. I had just been doing some routine maintenance with the tools this world was able to provide for me, until I heard otherwise from SMG4. 

But this meant that I was not currently dressed for company. I was also so very exposed and it was nerve wracking to think of anyone seeing the upper half of my body without clothing covering it. All that was there was a black towel that I’d loosely wrapped around my neck to help me not stare at the mess my neck had become. What with all the wires underneath skin supporting my spine, and the way bits of wire and metal poked in and out of my skin without the protective layer of fabric I kept around the wires. 

I completely missed the sound of a key on a lock, signaling that you’d opened the front door and locked it. With rising trepidation, I realized I’d foolishly left my door half-open right before you knocked on it. Swiftly, I crossed my arms over my chest and abdomen Thank goodness I’d finished the internal inspection a half hour prior to this moment, while I attempted to work up the nerve to do see to my his back. But that would require me to take my head off, place it behind myself on a table and contort my arms to perform the inspection, though it would be difficult without the tools I needed Smg4 to agree to get to me.

“Puzzles?” It is you. “Are you in there?”

“Yes.” I stuttered. Goodness, I was not well-prepared to be around anyone. “Do give me one moment to get myself presentable-“ My screen flashed to worry upon hearing a soft intake of breath. My shoulders hunched up as I pressed my arms tightly over my front. “I am hideous at present, my dear.” I couldn’t hide the tremble in my voice, refraining from smacking the side of my head to reset it forcibly. “Just…just let me find where I put my dress shirt. I’ll cover up and-“

“You’re not hideous, Puzzles.” You tell me patiently, entering the room with slow footsteps. 

I don’t quite believe it, but I feel there is sincerity in your voice. It made me relax somewhat. I even perked up when I heard curiosity next. 

“I’ve been wondering what you looked like without your dress shirt on all the time.” You commented, before adding. “More so different clothing styles, but also how the heck your body is shaped that way.”

“Oh? You’ve wanted to see me without my clothes? How scandalous.” I teased, slipping more comfortably into a showman attitude to hide the very real fear of the rejection that lurked in my mind that if you saw me without a persona and the confidence as well as the unsightliness of my exposed body, you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore. That you wouldn’t want to get closer to me more than you already were, despite how desperately I wanted to spend more time with you. 

“I can wait outside the room, if you’re uncomfortable with me seeing you like this. I thought you might be resting, after yesterday. Plus, you know, we’re supposed to hang out today and temporarily forget about work? Relax?”

“Relax.” I repeated dubiously, before sighing theatrically without moving my arms from their crossed position. “I do recall that being the plan now, my dear.”

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked again, not having taken another step toward me. 

I hesitate, considering. 

Usually, I never let anyone see me so vulnerable, and yet.  

And yet you and I have had some rather interesting heart to heart conversations over these past few months. It wouldn’t be too bad if I let you see some of me like this? Slowly, I lower my left arm, and held it out to the side, palm up and held rather steadily, I must admit. Then, scrounging up the courage before I changed my mind, I spoke softly as a contemplative expression settled over my face. “You may…come closer, but do not look at my front, please.” I pressed my right arm across my chest nervously. 

(There will be a transition of maybe a few more sentences before it switches to readers pov-so it would be technically a new chapter)

You wondered if you should insist that Mr. Puzzles didn’t have to do anything that made him this uncomfortable; hunched shoulders, leaning forward a touch, antenna poking up out of the hat twitching in what you could only presume was nerves. 

And yet, he held a hand up, clearly seeking comfort because you didn’t need to hold Mr. Puzzles hand to inspect his exposed back. But this also gave you an earlier opportunity than later on to try something you’d been wanting to for at least a week. You weren’t entirely sure how he’d react, and perhaps being without clothing on his upper half might make your half-baked plan coming over here more difficult. 

There was only one way to find out. 

You stepped forward, watching Mr. Puzzles carefully for any other signs of discomfort, but he remained stiffly in place at the edge of the stool he was seated on. Reaching out with your own left hand, you set it on his, but after grasping it in what felt a reassuring way, he let go of you and went back to planting both arms across his chest from the way his fingertips dug into either shoulder lightly, on either side of a black bath towel wrapped around his neck. 

“It’s all right.” Mr Puzzles whispered. 

You’re not sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself.  You’ moved to stand behind Mr. Puzzles after he let go of your hand, momentarily marveling that even seated on a stool the top of the TV set he called a head came to the top of your shoulders while you were standing.

“You’re ridiculously tall.” You commented, dropping your gaze to beneath the towel around his neck as a low chuckle emitted from Mr. Puzzles. 

“Better to oversee everyone in the cafe, no?” Amusement, and nervousness. 

“Sure, and for keeping a lookout for me?” You asked casually as you inspected the way his sleek robotic arms were attached to what was left of Mr. Puzzles’ human shoulder. It didn’t look sore around the attachment area but you weren’t certain if it was normal for where he came from for skin to be colored as it was. Slightly gray from where the robotic limbs were as the color went up what was left of the shoulder and spiraled across over his left and right shoulder blades. 

“I have noticed you, at times.” Mr. Puzzles said eventually, in a causal way. “Though ordinarily when you attempted to sneak up to that podcast area of yours before you so kindly invited me up to visit.”

“Like we didn’t notice you trying to eavesdrop a few times?”

“You could never prove it.” Mr. Puzzles hummed. 

“Probably not. You move pretty quick for being so tall as well.”

“One of my many charms.” Mr. Puzzles said proudly. 

“Running away?” You teased, thinking about the time Mr. Puzzles fled through the back door of the cafe and was gone before anyone could figure out what had happened was that his apron had been tugged at and he thought it was one of your roommates come back to get him for flirting with you. 

You think it was flirting, anyway. 

“Staying hidden.” Quiet. Contemplative. 

That…didn’t sound like a good thing.

You stared at the back of Mr. Puzzle’s tv head, then continued roving your gaze over his back when he had nothing more to say. 

Mr. Puzzles spine was…a distressingly visible bumpy line down his back all the way down to where it disappeared down his pants, the suspenders hanging off either side of the belt. There were no obvious robotic parts, just skin that was that graying color that trailed up past his waistline. Upon closer inspection, you could see what appeared to be a line of raised skin along the entire length of Mr. Puzzles spine. You glanced at the back of his head again, then stepped forward to  lightly brushed a few fingers along the raised skin, drawing out an involuntarily shiver from Mr. Puzzles. 

Scar tissue. 

Really thick scar tissue, as if it had been repeatedly cut open and sewn shut. 

“Hey, Puzzles?” You see the way his head tilts to the side, his fingers digging slightly harder into his shoulders. “Can I…give you a hug?”

A very long silence before a very slow exhale sounded. 

“You may. As long as you don’t…”

“…look at your front?”

“Yes.” Quiet.

“Can I touch or-“

“I would presume so for a proper hug.”Attempted amusement poor hiding of the desperate need for touch. 

“Tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop?” You think you hear a muttered ‘would never be too much’ but couldn’t confirm as Mr. Puzzles  merely straightened up and held ramrod still as if he were about to be hit instead of hugged. 

That made you sad to think that he was nearly flinching as though expecting the worst despite your intentions being pretty clear with your words. Stepping forward, you lightly touch a shoulder blade, drawing forth a stronger shiver before mr puzzles practically leaned back into it.  His skin was slightly cooler to the touch than when he was wearing clothes. Then, he seemed to be warmer, and you couldn’t help but wonder if whatever had been troubling him, especially this past month, might be the reason. 

Mr. Puzzles uttered your name in a barely there whisper. 

You take a final step and lean in, deciding first where to rest your head before carefully wrapping your arms around middle, just below where his arms crossed over his chest. It was always a surprise that you could practically touch your own sides if you wished while hugging me puzzles with how slight he was around the middle compared to his ridiculously wide set shoulders and broad chest. But you merely hold your hands over his middle and press your arms into his skin, drawing yet another shiver. 

Was the temperature difference too much?

“That…feels nice.” Mr puzzles murmured appreciatively. 

Ah.

He liked the sensation of you touching him, perhaps a little more than when you had grabbed his antenna and yanked them, only to, after a very long conversation, pet them at Mr puzzles request about two weeks ago. It had left him a happy puddle of static buzzing and a fast heart rate. 

“This okay?”

“Mmhmm.” He sighed near dreamily. 

You decided to unclasp your hands to trace your fingertips along Mr. Puzzles quivering lower abdomen. This caused him to let out a little whine of static, trembling in place as if not sure whether to press into your touch or lean against you. 

When you note that Mr. Puzzles had begun to fidget you stopped, about to move your arms away when his own arms moved to clasp your hands with his own. Mr. Puzzles stayed motionless for a moment as he held your hands, before, with a little shake, settled them over his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. 

And more crisscrossing of strategically placed lines of scars that reminded you too much of a cadaver in a horror game you’d played.

You focused on his heartbeat instead. 

The two of you stayed in place like that for a moment before Mr. Puzzles eventually yet reluctantly relinquished his hold if your hands and dropped his own onto his lap. 

He was being uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Where’s your shirt?” You think he might feel better if he could see you and reciprocate a hug, but for that, he would need something to put on. 

A hand rose to point a digit to the left. 

You step over to the dress shirt (this one gray instead of white) and walked back to drape it over his shoulders. You watched as he slipped the sleeves over his arms and just as he was about to button it up you had inspiration strike you. Stepping obviously up behind him you lean into mr puzzles back again and shooed his hands away as you began to button the dress shirt up instead. 

Look at you go! All those dark morning fumbling with clothes  with buttons on occasion paid off and it drew an interesting reaction from Mr. Puzzles. 

“Not that I’m not flattered with this assistance but may I ask why?”

“Why not?” You respond, doing the last button right before you wrapped your arms around Mr. Puzzles again. “You look good in these clothes.”

“I do?” Uncertainty, then. “Well, of course, I do!”

You coax one of the suspended straps over Mr. Puzzles’ shoulder before he catches one of your arms. 

“I do believe I am capable of dressing myself, my dear.” 

“Yeah, you are, but I think you like me helping out?”

“And you deduced this how?”

“You’re letting me.” You point out as you let the other suspender strap snap over Mr. Puzzles other shoulder. 

“I do suppose that is true.” Mr Puzzles began to do his freaky 180 head turn, only to stop with a full body grimace and hastily turn it back forward. 

You take the opportunity to steal his bow tie that he was reaching for and step off to the side and out of ways reach of long gangly arms. You can’t help but let out a snort of amusement when Mr Puzzles gracefully spins the stool with a leg to face you. He studied you with an expression of amusement on his tv face.  You wordlessly hold up the bow tie and wiggle it. 

“I get up and you won’t get far.” Mr Puzzles said after a moment. The screen switched to a light smile and hooded eyes. 

He was really bad at hiding his interests even if those interests were likely to scoop you up and hold you in his lap or something while he soaked up his ‘allotted cuddling’ for the day. 

“Who said I was going to run?” You offer back. 

Intrigue, then a slightly manic smile.

Oh, you definitely got him interested in whatever it was you had in mind.

Mr. Puzzles stood up, and slowly approached you, watching you closely as he retained eye contact. How he did that with a static expression, you weren’t sure, but it sure was impressive. In two long steps, Mr Puzzles stood before you and held out a hand with a flourish, as if expecting you to bestow upon him the bow tie.

You reach over for the step-stool nearby and make a show of climbing the two steps as though it was an arduous task, drawing an appreciative chuckle for the theatrics. You reached out with your hands, making it clear you intended to do the bowtie for him too.

Mr. Puzzles indulgently stooped while keeping his neck upright. This close to him you could hear the fuzz of the screen and the huff of laughter over you clearly struggling to get the bow tie in place. 

“I guess it’s easier on the tutorial.” You eventually admit, jumping a little when Mr. Puzzles’ hands come up around yours.

“And most I assume are for one wearing the bow tie. Here.” He guided you through getting the bowtie into place, only to switch to a grin when it was done and you’d lowered your hands with his still around yours, as if Mr. Puzzles was reluctant to let go of you. He looked like he might try to pick you up despite his neck troubling him.

“Want to go to the other room?” You asked casually, as if Mr. Puzzles hadn’t just begun to pet the back of your hands with his ungloved ones while retaining a semblance of eye contact with you. 

“How about a change of venue?” Mr. Puzzles asked, his tone a little deeper than before, rougher. “I think it might be more private in the dimension in my mind.”

Okay, giving him undivided attention appeared to bring out the possessiveness, so time for a diversion to defuse that, and a great time, you think, to push things a little farther to let Mr. Puzzles know you did have interest in him and were down for whatever, even if it as cuddling and handholding at this point, like he insinuated yesterday, as if it were scandalous for friends to do. 

You don’t think it is, but whatever. If that was his current comfort zone you’d go with it and back off if your next words and actions went over poorly. “You have a ridiculously grabbable waist that allows a perfect angle to switch to grabbing your ass.” 

“Oh?” Mr puzzles screen flicked through a series of expressions before landing on a curious eyed eke with a smirk. “How raunchy. You’re lucky we’re not on one of my sets where that’d be highly inappropriate.”

“And since we’re not on a set?” You asked with curiosity, only to nearly jump out of your skin as Mr Puzzles has managed to move in that freakishly fast way of his where he now had you  up against a wall, hands on either side of your shoulders on said wall. 

“I would say I’m very…interested, to see where this is going.” Mr. Puzzles carefully lowered his tv head to rest it over yours. That didn’t seem comfortable to press his screen into the wall but he wasn’t found so very hard. 

You didn’t gove yourself time to think and reached out to grasp his hips. 

Mr puzzles trembled in place.

“You want me to keep going?”

“wouldn’t have said I were interested if I didn’t mean you to.”  Mr. Puzzles sounded oddly breathless. 

“You going to be okay, big guy?” You asked. “Just touching your hips seems to have gotten you all hot and bothered.”

“Unoriginal. Use something other than ‘hot’ and ‘bothered.’ Too cliche.” 

“I’ll give you cliche, ass.” And you promptly tugged him forward to grab said ass. His stupid, stupid backside that should not fit his lanky, weirdly built body. 

Mr. Puzzles hands pressed harder into the wall. 

“Any requests?” You asked, as if you weren’t just kneading him through his pants and making him shake. 

“Perhaps it is a bit too much?” Mr. Puzzles gasped out. It sounded like his screen was flashing through a lot of pictures and faces.

You stop, only for him to let out a frustrated whine. 

“I didn’t mean for you to actually stop.” 

You frown up at Mr. Puzzles, take in the pointed not looking at you as he kept his screen pressed to the wall, and then glance down. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“We can stop.”

“No, please continue.”

“We’re going to have another talk okay? Like we did about your antenna.”

A hum of agreement and then a desperate, softly uttered ‘please’. 

“This is okay, what we’re doing right now?” You asked again, wanting to make sure he wasn’t just stuck in the touch starved sensation where anything felt nice.

“Yes, yes it is.” A little snappish as the tv head leaned back for Mr. Puzzles to presumably eye you. “Do your worst. I am perfectly fine with where this is headed.”

“Okay, here goes.” You set one hand lightly on his hip while you followed the urge to give his ass a final slap through the pants that made Mr. Puzzles give a high-pitched yelp of surprise, as if not entirely expecting that.

He sank to the floor on his knees with a flushed expression flashing across his face. Mr. Puzzles buried his screen into his hands, but you catch a glimpse of the screen that showed off blushing, a small technicolor smile and a set of eyes set off to one side away from where you stood.

You decide to let Mr. Puzzles have some dignity while he gathered himself, but you can’t help leaning over pat his head, since it was easier to access when he was crouched or kneeling. The whisper of ‘good boy’ came out unbidden when you pet the side of his screen and an antenna, half-thinking he’d bat your hand away and scoff at you.  You did not expect the noise Mr Puzzles made as he sank entirely to the floor, curling up and pressing his hands into his tv face harder as his expression burned bright, his facsimile eyes on you this time, like he was seeing you in a new light and was very, very curious.

Wow.

Okay.

You knew Mr. Puzzles liked praise with that ego of his, but this flustered demeanor was new compared to the awkwardness of trying to strike up conversation with you in the first week of being here in the world.