#i crave warmth and all my drabbles end up being just versions of domestic fluff

[husbandhannie]

i often thinking of writing deep metaphorical stuff that isn't just soft domestic fluff but like.....idk i dont think im built for that

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Not the End of the World (baon)

Summary: It's not the end of the world as Stretch knows it. Probably.

Notes:  My craving for autumn fluffiness cannot be stopped

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic, Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it Here!

~~*~~

It might well be a sign of an upcoming apocalypse or maybe a garden variety catastrophe, but it was the weekend and Edge wasn’t in the kitchen. He wasn’t cleaning either, tromping around the house getting everything into his version of order.

For once, he was out in the yard and it wasn’t to mow the grass or rake leaves or ready his plants for the coming winter. Edge was curled up on the porch swing, his legs stretched out across the bench and a fuzzy blanket on his lap. He was reading, of all things, probably some boring shit about political negotiation wrangling, but maybe a puzzle book, and he was actually wearing his glasses for once. Half the time he forgot them until he was squinting at his laptop screen and verging on a headache. The little round lenses made him look like Harry Potter in his much later years, hell, he even had a scar.

Aside from an episode or two of a Netflix show, Edge wasn’t much for sitting still on the weekends, or, well, anytime, to be honest. To see him outside, settled in with a book and a blanket was like waking up into opposite day. It was a really nice day, though, sunlight dappling through the leaves that were still on the tree, turning them golden and scarlet. The chickens were wandering through the yard, searching out tasty insects, and all in all, it was a scene of homey comfort.

And damn if Stretch didn’t want to get in on it.

Anytime Stretch was outside, Edge always brought him a drink or a snack, so it only seemed fair to return the favor. Stretch wasn’t ready to try on a chef’s hat or anything, but he could probably manage a drink. Something hot, it was a chilly outside.

Coffee would be easiest, but ehhhhhh. For starters, Edge sank enough caffeine into his marrow on any given day to jumpstart a blue whale, and if he was allowed to bitch about cigarettes then Stretch had grumping rights about the coffee. Besides, it didn’t really suit the theme of a day. A glance into the fridge found a bottle of apple cider and that seemed to go better with falling leaves and plaid blankets.

It didn’t take long to warm it on the stove, and Stretch even tossed in a cinnamon stick the way Blue always used to. When it was hot, he carefully poured it into a mug, only spilling a little, then carried the steaming cup out in both hands for maximum safety.

Edge glanced up when the door opened, watching with both brow bones raised as Stretch tried to balance the mug along with closing the door with fair success. Then he had to navigate around the ladies who dashed over to put themselves right underfoot like a flock of feathered attempted murderers.

But he shuffled his way over without slopping much of it, Edge watching him the entire way. Edge always looked a little stern and maybe that put people off at first. Not his fault, it was just how he was, his version of resting bitch face. Plus, Stretch had to reluctantly admit that sharp teeth and stark crimson eye lights didn’t usually put most people in the mind of Fluffy Bunny. Stretch knew better though, so much better what lay beneath that grumpy exterior and watching Edge’s harsh expression softened a little at the, heh, edges never failed to give Stretch the melting wibblies.

So did the glasses, but that was a private secret, thanks, he didn’t need Edge trying to indulge his filthy nerd fetish.

“i made you a drink.” Stretch held up the cup with all the grandeur of offering an Academy Award and not one of the shitty ones for like Fastest Catering or something.

Edge didn't ask why; maybe he guessed Stretch wanted to pay him back for all the times he did the same thing, or maybe he just didn't care. He set his book aside and took the cup with all the gravitas required of such an occasion. Didn’t leave Stretch squirming and took an immediate sip, swallowed it with a pleased murmur.

"It’s good,” he pronounced, and yeah, he’d probably lie if it wasn’t, but Edge was sort of a crap liar and Stretch wasn’t picking up anything on his bullshit-o-meter.

Either way, his pleasure at getting it was pretty damn obvious if you knew what to look for. He set the cup on the little side table and reached out to catch Stretch’s hand, tugging him directly into his lap without passing go or collecting the two-hundred bucks. Not like Stretch was going to resist, not a chance, because Edge gave the best hugs. Probably other people would never suspect it; Edge didn't give off a vibe of being happy about touching anything. But it was the swear by the stars truth; Edge never half-assed and if he was in for a hug, he was in it. All cozy warm and powerful arms, and he’d pull Stretch in close on any given day, at any time. Offer all that he was into one gentle embrace.

Stretch snuggled in happily, settling his cheekbone against Edge’s sternum. After a while, Edge started reading again over his shoulder, but he made no move to push Stretch back to his feet. Instead, he maneuvered the blanket to cover Stretch, too, cozying them together on an autumn day. Soon enough Stretch was drowsing, lulled by the blanket and Edge’s natural warmth, listening to his husband’s soft breathing.

“Thank you for the drink,” Edge murmured. It almost seemed to reverberate in Stretch’s skull, the words coming from beneath his auditory canal as much as from above him.

“welcome,” he mumbled. He could hear Edge take another sip, hear him swallow, the slight fizzling sound of his magic incorporating the cider. Edge shifted and the swing started rocking a little, pushed along by a foot on the ground.

That left him warm, comfortable, snuggled up with his husband, and rocking like a baby, pretty much exactly where he'd wanted to be. So, if this was a sign of the apocalypse, then Stretch was ready for his handbasket, because he’d ride in it all the way to hell if it meant he got to stay in Edge’s arms.

-finis-

[sheewolf85]

October Drabbles Day 9 - Hugs

Characters: Edge, Stretch Pairing: Spicyhoney Rating: G Warnings: Not really sure if I need to warn for this, but vague descriptions of someone being possibly touch-starved. Domestic fluff.

Find the list of prompts here.

Read on AO3 here.

Before Edge came to the surface, before he traded his old name in for the new one, and certainly before he fell in love, the only hugs he’d experienced were less a traditional embrace and more a shivering huddle with his brother to keep warm on cold nights.

Red wasn’t big on physical contact. Edge had never asked for a reason, never needed one to respect his brother’s boundaries. Whatever his reasons, Red was perfectly happy to keep anyone and everyone at arm’s length, Edge being his only exception until he grew big enough to protect himself.

After the multiverse collapsed and they found themselves stuck in a new place with different versions of themselves, it took a long time for Edge to come to terms with the reality that physical touch here was not a threat or even a real danger. Not only that, but in certain situations it was expected.

Edge could only assume that his preconceptions with touch had played a part in the animosity between himself and Rus in the beginning. Blue had been visibly heartbroken when both Red and Edge denied him an embrace after their first get-together, and while he’d recovered from whatever emotional pain he’d experienced, Rus had proven himself very much capable of holding a grudge.

He couldn’t say that he’d never been touched before. His Undyne had been extremely physical with her training, adamant that Edge needed to know how to fight with more than his magic attacks. He’d shaken hands and paws, had sparred and fought and won many, many times.

And yet, the first time Papyrus touched him, a simple hand on his shoulder, he’d jerked back as if his alternate had struck him. He had apologized, but the look of pained understanding on Papyrus’ face haunted him for a while afterward.

Slowly, over time, he had learned to accept friendly touches from those he spent the majority of his time with. And slowly, over time, he found that he started to crave them.

He fought an internal battle for a time, couldn’t say it was over even to this day, to let down his guard and accept the affection that Blue, Papyrus, and a few others offered him. He drank it in every time.

When he and Rus finally started to get over themselves and connect, Edge found that he was insanely curious to know what embraces felt like when they were more than friendly. He found himself holding back on more than one occasion; he didn’t want to push Rus away now that they were getting close. He told himself to wait until Rus offered the embrace.

The first time Rus hugged him was after their first real date. It was a quick embrace, the two of them standing awkwardly on Rus’ front step. They didn’t kiss, though Edge had his suspicious that Rus wanted to. He didn’t push for it, let the embrace end far too quickly, and reminded himself the entire rest of the evening that he was going to see Rus again soon.

After that, he still only let himself enjoy hugs when the other person initiated them. Rus began offering more often, and Edge was only too happy to indulge.

Rus squirming in his arms brought his attention back to the present. He glanced down to see his love staring up at him, his sockets still half-closed as he slowly woke up.

“hi,” he whispered, a lopsided smile on his mouth.

Edge smiled back. “Hi. Welcome back to the land of consciousness.”

He reluctantly loosened his grip as Rus sat up and yawned, stretching his arms over his head. As he relaxed, he settled himself back in his position, and Edge happily wrapped him in his embrace once more.

“how long have i been out?” Rus asked, squirming to get closer.

“Only about an hour.”

Rus frowned then, turning to look at Edge. “an hour? and you never turned on the tv or grabbed a book? what have you been doing? besides being bored to literal death?”

Edge couldn’t help but crack a smile as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Rus’ mouth. “I haven’t been bored at all. I’ve been watching you sleep and thinking about how lucky I am.”

He half expected Rus to balk at that. No matter how amazing he was, how many great things he did for people he didn’t even know, Rus was awful at taking compliments. Edge supposed that was just one more thing they had in common.

Instead, Rus sat back just a little and tilted his head. “anything in particular you wanna share with the class?”

He didn’t answer verbally. Not right away. Rather, he scooped Rus onto his lap and enveloped him in a tight hug, holding him as close as they could get with Rus’ blanket still wrapped around him. Rus yelped in surprise, but he didn’t protest, not even as Edge nuzzled along his jaw, placing playful kisses as he went.

“I get to have this, any time I want. I can just pull you into my arms and hold you close. Do you know how wonderful that is?”

Rus was oddly silent for a long moment. Edge didn’t pull back to see his face, didn’t loosen his arms at all. He could feel Rus’ soul, feel his intent, and right now he was beaming out nothing but unconditional love.

After a few silent seconds, Rus cleared his throat. He squirmed, but only enough to pull the blanket out from between them. He wrapped it around the both of them, trapping their warmth inside a comfy embrace, and only then did Edge lift his head to look at Rus’ expression.

His eye lights were dilated, his sockets limned with pale orange magic. His smile was bright and beautiful.

“i know how wonderful it is for me,” he said softly. “i always love it when you hold me.”

Edge leaned in again and kissed him softly, slowly. Rus deepened it, but it didn’t go further than the brush of their tongues meeting. He pulled back and hugged Rus tightly to his chest, his soul swelling with so much love he thought it might burst as Rus squeezed him back.