A sweet Dewey Finn x reader fic. Verrrry fluffy, verrrry happy, verrrry clingy, verrrrry drunk. Dewey accidentally discovers he can pull off a very low, growly, hoarse, husky, gravelly voice. Just like a certain ghost-with-the-most we know. đ
Something really special.... me and the amazing, sweet, talented @ironmansuucks have been working on together.
We genuinely hope you guys enjoy this one.
I LOVE YOU MORE THEN PIZZA
âHey guys, câmon⊠tequila!!â Dewey wiggled his eyebrows, smirking at his friends as they headed back to the bar, for what felt like the millionth time that night. It was Friday after all, and as usual the boys were drinking the place dry of tequila after a long week. Dewey and the kids had been practicing extra all week for a show booked for the following Friday. They had worked so hard and Dewey was so proud of them but he was exhausted. His voice was completely messed up from singing and shouting with them all week and he just needed a night off. It was scratchy and hoarse, almost sore sounding but it wasnât, and it was easy to tell by the way he was throwing back the tequila shots, most likely making his voice worse. But he didnât care. He was having fun.
Due to not having any dinner before he went out (not to mention the 1 tequila, 2 tequila, 3 tequila 4), Dewey was well and truly fucked. Him, Ned and a few other of his friends, were stumbling around their favourite bar, making one another laugh. The music was on point and the drinks kept flowing. It was one of those nights were everything was hysterically funny and silly. Those were the best kinda nights. Doing dares, drinking games, and who could forget about the daft dancing.
Dewey was showing Ned one of the guitar riffs that he had taught the kids, air guitar of course, when suddenly someone bumped into him, shoving him forward a bit. Dewey turned round to see a massive, tall bald guy barging past him âhey man, move out my wayâ the man grumbled as he hustled past. What the hell? Dewey looked at Ned, drunk and confused âwho the hell does that guy think he is? Move out my wayâ Dewey mimicked, screwing up his face and buffing his chest and shoulders. Due to his voice already being fucked up, he sounded the exact same as the dude. His voice raspy and hoarse. Ned and the other guys were in hysterics at Deweyâs impression, which only prompted him to continue.
As he headed towards the bar, he kept his shoulders buffed and his face screwed up, his friends jumping behind him, still laughing. âhey, can I order 8 tequila shotsâ Dewey quipped to the barman in his husky, exaggerated voice, eliciting laughs from his friends. The barman didnât bat an eyelid and just served him. âhere you go boysâ Dewey continued, handing his laughing friends shots, âbottoms upâ.
You rolled your eyes laughing.
Some while later, namely 1:30 AM, you had received a few texts from your sweet (drunken) Dewey Finn:
ccan you pleaaes com e pick me up pp lesae ?? ?? ?
You rolled your eyes laughing, knowing he was going to be absolutely steaming. You quickly replied, telling him you would be there in ten. You already knew the bar he was in due to his drunken snapchats, and because it was the one they would always frequent on Friday nights.
Due to your tiredness, and lack of drunkenness, you could not be bothered with the bar. The loud music, the smell of a mix of different alcohols, and the sweaty people jumping around was just something that didnât particularly appeal to you right now. Grab Dewey. Get out.
Squeezing past all of the drunkards, you could see Dewey at the bar with a few friends. You felt soft at the sight of him smiling and laughing with his friends. It was always a sight you loved to see. His cheeks rosy from the alcohol and his soft, fluffy curls slightly messed up from jumping around. You made your way over to him, car keys in hand ready to grab him and rush goodbyes to get him home.
Dewey was leaning against the bar laughing when you approached him. When his eyes caught yours he lit up. His eyes growing wide. His friends were all laughing at him and you had no idea, until âh-hey babyâ Dewey growled out, still exaggerating his hoarse voice causing his friends to bellow out in fits of amusement. You furrowed your eyebrows, laughing lightly âhey Rockstar, what the hell is up with your voice?â.
Dewey made his way over to you, staggering slightly âoh yeah th-is guy was like barging past me and.. and he was all like g-get out of ma wayâ he giggled, his voice rough even when he spoke normally. Dewey threw his arm around you and pulled you into his side. You held him up, him using you to lean against, you could smell the tequila on him.
After successfully getting Dewey out of the bar and into the car he began to get worse. The fresh air making him seem more drunk, as it always does. He was sat in the passenger side seat, his elbow resting against the window and his head against the head rest. âsweetheart⊠I just.. I just like you more than p-izza ok.. and I really REALLY like pizza-aâ. you laughed at him and his rough, kinda sexy, voice. âthanks Dew, what a complimentâ he looked at you, his eyes lidded and tired âno baby, I-I seriously lOVE pizza.. b-but I just like you sooo much mooorrrreeâ. He lightly poked your arm, smiling away to himself. Nearly home now.
You knew Dewey was clingy, but drunk Dewey was ten times worse. From the moment you got home he was stuck to you. âDewey you need to let my hand go so I can take my shoes offâ, ânooo I just love youuuuâ. âyou need to let me go so I can get changedâ âno just stay with me pleeease, pleaeeaase, Iâll d-die if you donâtâ he would plead, voice cracking and his hand pulling you into him.
After forcing him to drink a glass of water, poor baby was tuckered out. He continued to drink the water with one hand and patted your head with the other. You looked at him and his tired eyes, confused and laughed. âwhat am I? your dog?â he nodded, gulping the water. His eyes were closing and you knew you had to get him to bed, hoping he wouldnât be sick. It was nearly 3 AM.
As soon as he got into the bedroom Dewey threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes ânightâ he croaked out. âno no no Dew you need to get your trousers off you goofâ you moved over to him. ânooo I donât want too.. too tiredâ he whined. âDewey Finn sit up and take those Jeans off. I have just washed those sheets and Iâm not having your black jeans staining themâ you warned, folding your arms. He huffed loudly, like a child, and stood up, unbuttoning his jeans and moving his legs so they would fall down. He could be so lazy sometimes.
Finally you were both in bed. Dewey scooted over to you, getting his body as close to yours as possible, his hand sneaking to your side, sliding up to your ribs and rubbing the skin there. âso softâŠâ he cracked, his eyes closing with sleepiness. You smiled at him, but furrowed your eyebrows worriedly âremember Dew, if you feel sick, wake me upâ you cautioned. He simply nodded and grumbled in response. His voice sounded as if it was sore, you troubled. Whatever he had done to it, the amount of tequila he had consumed certainly wouldnât have helped him. You shook your head, âyou crazy dudeâ you whispered lovingly, running your hand down his face admiring his rosy cheeks, and wild hair.
You sighed in sheer relief that morning when Dewey didn't get sick at night. The trashcan beside his side of the bed was luckily un-used. It was kind of a miracle why though, the amount of tequila he drank had been enough to fill up your half of your bath-tub. You shook your head on the pillow as you eyed your boyfriend. He was soundly sleeping on his side. His hair was messily spread out on the pillow, standing up and difying any sort or gravity. You loved Dewey Finn with all your heart, he was just a hyper kid sometimes. A bouncy, hyper kid, with amazing charm and guitar skills... sometimes on too much liquor.
You traced his every feature with your eyes, letting his beauty sink into the deepest level of your soul.
It was almost angelic, his soft face combined with the rough scruff on his cheeks. The rising sun making his messy brown hair glow like the sun herself reached out to kiss it. He smelled like the bar you picked him up from, combined with the fresh smell of your bedsheets, and something unmistakably Dewey.
You rolled your eyes, internly cursing yourself. The boy drank half a bath-tub of tequila last night... You had to carry him home... and yet here you was. Falling even more in love with that dorky, bouncy rock-star. You couldn't be mad at him even if you tried. He only tried to have a good time... that's all.
You shot your Dewey one last glance, before sneaking out of bed. You put on your cozy socks, and grabbed Deweys sweater on the way out. Just before you closed the door you heard Dewey mutter something as he stirred in his sleep, and you smiled at the cute noice. You left the door peeking open a bit, and threw on Deweys worn ACDC sweater. It smelled like him, minus the smell of liquor he was currently sporting.
You tip-toed down the stairs, in desperately need for some coffee. You always were an early bird, while Dewey woke mid day if you'd let him. That part you couldnt change... no matter how hard you tried.
You figured his hang-over-ass would also enjoy some coffee, so you made one for him as well. Yours was filled with lots of milk, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.... Dewey drank his coffee black.
As you passed the stove you figured he could use some hang-over-proof-food as well. So you grabbed a pan, cracked two eggs open and started making scrambled eggs on toast. Humming softly to yourself, watching the still rising sun seep through the kitchen window as you prepared breakfast.
You were suprised when you felt two strong arms wrap softly around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You chuckled and yelped a bit in suprise when dewey came to stand behind you, his body still sleepily warm as he pushed himself up to you against the stove. You felt the weight of his head rest on your shoulder and smiled at the feeling of his stubble on your neck, when he pressed a soft kiss on it. He swayed you gently from behind, moving in sync with your humming.
You struggled to keep your attention to the breakfast you were making, instead of focussing on Dewey behind you. Dewey started to nibble on your neck while you continued to stirr the eggs in the pan. Dewey noticed the slight hitch in your breath while he softly suckled on your pulse point and tried to sneak his hand under your sweater. You squeeled a high pitched sound and grabbed his hand under your sweater before it could get to its destination. He growled in dissapiontment and you felt him pout against your cheekbone, scruff tickeling your cheek when he did so.
You squeezed his hand and mumbled: "Let's have breakfast first, okay cassanova?"
Deweys hands moved towards your sides, he took a step back and he pressed a kiss on the top of your hair. He hummed in response at your suggestion and slapped your ass before slumping into the kitchen chair.
A high pitched yelp escaped your throat, and you was just about to lecture him but when you turned around your mind went still. Comletely still. Aside from the singing choir in the back of your head.
His bedhead was still all over the place as he slumped into the kitchen chair. His brown locks standing in different angles on his head, framing his beautifull face. The golden light of the sun still surrounding him with a bright halo, almost like the joy of life shine out of him. The bright light of the sun reflected in his eyes, and it made his gaze even more entracing. His head rested in his hand and his droopy eyes were full of sleep, but also full of admiration when he looked at you. He brushed his free hand through his messy brown locks, making his hair even more chaotic. A satisfied smirk ghosted his lips and Dewey Finn looked smug as hell.
How could he not, you were practically giving him heart eyes at the moment.
You turned around quickly, struggling to focus on the eggs in front of you again.
You turned off the stove and flopped the eggs on the kitchentable unceremoniously. You sat down across Dewey and sipped your coffee while eyeing your boyfriend over the coffee cup, with a fond smile on your face. Gosh... you loved this man.
He happily beamed back at you and digged into the eggs, his hoarse voice cracked: "Thanks love..."
You couldn't help but laugh at the state of his voice... all fucked up from the shouting and singing of last night. That voice....
A thought popped up in your mind, talking about last night...
That voice. The voice that made you laugh and giggle. Made you sing and hum. His voice made you happy and emotional. Grounded you and guided you. Deweys voice had you aroused in seconds, and you loved every tone it could make... but this voice. It was hoarse and husky and gravelly. Croaky and somewhat nasal.
This hang-over, worn-out growly voice was something else.
You tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that this side of his voice made you feel.
You asked a question to keep Dewey talking in that gravelly voice, so you could feel some more of...
Whatever it was that you seemed to feel at it hearing him talk in that voice...
"Hey Dew... you slept okay? You didnt get sick man. That's great!"
Between eating his toast and sipping his coffee he replied, again with a low, husky, growly voice: "Yeah... that's pretty cool indeed. Lucky me, huh? Hey... Thankyou for picking me up last night..."
You were lost in thoughts as he lowly kept growling through his scentences. The only thing you could think off was that voice was making your knees weak. Good thing you were already sitting... Cause with the orange glow of the sun, combined with his scratchy low croaking voice you were sure could swoon at the spot.
This voice of him was something else. You certainly felt something.
Dewey noticed your mental absence as he continued to growly speak. He noticed that your breathing had changed, and he saw the rosy colour your cheeks had gotten. He saw your pupils widening, you bit your lip and then left your mouth slightly agape. You licked your lips as he sneakily tried to slip more and more pet names for you into his conversation. His voice dropping lower, more breathy and huskier by the second.
He was in the middle of a scentence when you lost your fight to pure lust, love and desperation. You launched yourself over the kitchentable and kissed him with all the love that was bubbling inside your soul. He bit your lip as a deep growl escaped his throath and you panted between kisses: "Mister Finn.... you are an absolute angel... and your voice... Especially your hangover voice... Should be illegal."
Tagging: @little-miss-shy-goth â @paxenera â @heknowshisherbs @missihart23 â â @geminiacally @go-commander-kim â @gegehaddock â @baby-beej @sadpuppetshows @hoodoo12 @large-unit @thats-specific @vicunaburger @stranger-strings @bugdrinkss
We hope you enjoyed it. We sure enjoyed writing it! @ironmansuucks ... a deep bow and thankyou for doing me the absolute honour of writing with you. đ It was a pleasure, dear.
