#this is like that time after seeing the tiny mole on her torso the casual shirt puts on display

[ilikedetectives]

Neve has a lip scar?!?!?!?!?

[lcksndkys]

Pairing: hobi x reader

Rating: SFW

Genre: dancer!hobi x bff reader

Word count: 1,474

A/N: This piece was written as part of the btsghostiewriters drabble marathon!! Dialogue prompt #3: “Do you take constructive criticism?” “I only take cash.�� Enjoy and feel free to talk to me about it! I'd love to hear what you think!! As usual, s/o to my peoples @jinpanman and @wwilloww for the support and encouragement!! Also, the song is Permission by Ro James.

Summary:  Hoseok wants to audition for a position as an exotic dancer at The Pied Piper, a new strip club that provides entertainment for all. He wants your opinion of his routine. Except, you’ve been silently harboring a tiny (re: massive) crush on your friend. 

OR

You accidentally tell Hoseok you don’t find him sexy.

01, 02

"You wanna strip?" you ask, cocking a brow. 

“I need the job,” Hoseok explains. “I wanna buy Dynamite from Sejeong Hyung and run my own dance studio. Plus, it's not stripping, it's called exotic dancing.” 

“What about a loan?” you try to counter, ignoring the second part of his claim. 

“I wouldn’t even qualify for one big enough for Dynamite. This job will pay well enough to cover whatever expenses are left over after the loan” he continues.

The new strip club, The Pied Piper, provides entertainment for all and is currently hiring male exotic dancers. According to Hoseok, the type of dancing is sensual, but classy. He even pulled up a video advertisement to show you proof.

He sets his laptop on the ground in front of the two of you and presses play.

The characteristic beats of a familiar song ring through the air. Pony, how cliché. You watch the men on the screen gyrate their hips along to the beat of the greasy song, body-rolling around the stage in nothing but their fitted jeans. The physique of each man is eye catching to say the least.

The choreography is complex with each dancer making small stylistic adjustments so that they look in sync, but not matching entirely. Clearly, many of them are classically trained and/or professionals. 

Enraptured, you watch as their bodies move sensuously with the music. The clip shifts to one of the male dancers who pulls a woman on stage. A sparkling white and silver sash looped around her torso indicates she’s a blushing bride-to-be. She’s helped to a chair and approached by one of the dancers. Before the clip is over, Hoseok is closing his laptop and looking for your reaction.

“So, do you think I could do it?” he asks you eagerly.

You look into his hopeful eyes and your heart melts a little bit. He’s your Hoseok. Sweet, shy, sensitive, scared-of-everything Hoseok. You still remember how he cried when he was stung by a bee during dance camp in high school. How he has a 1.5 drink limit- half a drink better than when you both started college years ago. You try to imagine your friend dancing like the men you just watched on the screen.

“Well, those men- they’re really...” you struggle to find an appropriate term. You settle on “They’re really sexy” and then immediately regret your choice of words.

“You don’t think I’m sexy?” 

Looking at Hoseok’s crestfallen face, you rapidly launch into damage control. 

“I just mean- I’ve never seen you dance like that, Hobi”

There’s a few tense seconds of silence as Hoseok regards you before he slowly releases one long breath through his nose.

“I’ve been practicing,” he claims.

You swallow the lump in your throat at the dark look he’s suddenly giving you. It looks like danger. 

Hoseok digs a folding chair out of the dingy closet of your modest dance studio. He drags it across the floor, props it open, and gestures for you to have a seat.

Sitting on the cold metal folding chair, you cross your arms and legs. You affix the carefully crafted neutral mask over your face. Secretly, you’re proud of your ability to hide the secret crush that has been quietly brewing over the last year.

“Can I show you what I’ve been working on?” he asks.

You nod your consent.

“Good. I’d like your feedback” he smiles. 

You watch as Hoseok browses through his playlist and assume he’s looking for his audition song.

The sensuous music fills the little studio, echoing against the hard walls. The blank expression on your face hides the nervously pitter pattering of your heart. 

With your permission

Tonight I wanna be a little me on you

Your skin prickles with heat as you watch Hoseok start to dance slowly to the beat. Limbs fluid with practice and hip swaying, you’re mesmerized by his movements. 

He suddenly dives for the floor, twisting his body in a quarter turn mid-air, catching himself in a near handstand position before slowly lowering his chest, then pelvis to the floor. On hands and knees, his head swivels to make eye contact with you. He parts his legs, lowering his hips and thrusting against the ground making you gasp softly. Desire pools deep in your belly and for the first time in your life, you wish you were the flooring of this grimy, old studio.

Flipping over, Hoseok keeps his knees bent and plants his feet on the ground. Thighs spread wide, he bucks his hips up towards you. Your eyes follow the undulating of his hips as he pumps himself against the air.

Come on give me that green light

And you can let your hair hang down

But only if it feels right

You grit your teeth together to keep from panting.

He gracefully stands, adding a flourish to his movements, and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he approaches you.

At the last button, he sweeps open his top exposing the lithe planes of his chest and abdomen. Although not as muscular as the men in the video, his body is perfectly proportioned with well toned pecs and abs and delicate collarbones.

You gulp, hoping Hoseok hasn’t noticed how he’s affecting you. Watching him dance for you is alarmingly arousing.

There's a whole lot of motherfuckin' lovin' that's way past due

I owe you

With your permission

I'ma do all the things that I said I'm gon' do

Hands on your thighs, he uncrosses your legs then arms with a smirk. He straddles your lap and pulls your hands up to cup his ass. 

You feel heat lick its way up your neck and cheeks. 

This close up, you see every detail in Hoseok’s beautiful face. His perfectly sloped nose, the mole on his upper lip, every lash framing his usually warm eyes.  

Encouraging you to hold onto him, he grinds his hips against you to the beat of the song. With both hands clutching his tight gluts, you can’t help but feel every sensuous movement of his pelvis. Your mind drifts to his stroke game, sending another wave of arousal through your core. He brings one hand to your neck, long fingers wrapping around you to lock your eyes together. The other holds onto the backing of the chair he is currently defiling you against.

Satisfied with your gaze, you feel him bury his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull, scratching luxuriously against your scalp and you nearly moan out loud. Instead you bite the inside of your cheek and hold your composure.

Your hands start to wander up the planes of his back and sides, feeling the bumps and grooves of muscle and bone. 

Hoseok continues to fuck you against the chair until he draws a whimper from between your sealed lips.

He smiles in victory and buries his hand in your locks at the base of your skull and pulls. He noses along the column of exposed skin while he grinds against you making you shiver with need.

There's a tension, between us two

Red light special, girl you're special

You a blessing, so let me bless you

As the song winds down, Hoseok pulls back, eyes blackened with desire as he stares down at you. 

Like magnets, you are drawn towards each other. Hoseok presses his soft lips against yours in a tender, chaste kiss- a stark contrast to the dirty grinding of his body against yours. Hand still in your hair, he tips your head to the side sending his tongue out to lap against the seam of your lips. You part for him feeling the warm, wet muscle glide into your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs.

By the time he pulls back to study your reaction, you’re dazed and scrambling to find something coherent to say.

“Do you take constructive criticism?” you choke out, trying to sound casual.

“I only take cash” he quips back at you holding a hand out as if asking for a tip.

“Ok, well you probably shouldn’t kiss any of the patrons” you advise quietly thinking it was a planned part of his routine. 

Disappointed by your seemingly lackluster reaction to his kiss, Hoseok pulls back from you dropping his hand from your neck. 

“Is that all you have to say?” Hoseok grunts and climbs off you, no longer smiling.

“It’s just so cliché,” you try to explain.

“Yeah, well, so is falling for a friend” he throws back, hurt.

You gasp. 

“I never-” you panic.

“- I wasn’t talking about you” Hoseok effectively cuts you off.

You swear your heart stops for a second as you process Hoseok’s words. You’re speechless as he quickly packs up his belongings and takes one last look at your bewildered face before he leaves you sitting in the middle of the studio. 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

mango, m | jjk | 3

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A love story between bad boy Jeon Jungkook and a strange girl with mango eating obsession.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; suggestive words/actions; bullying; non-idol!AU - university!AU; badboy!Jungkook x sociallyawkward!reader, ft bestfriend!Hoseok the wise man lol

–

2.

-

“What flavor?”

Your hand snaked down to your hoodie pocket, but Jungkook wrapped his fingers around yours, grip like iron.

“Whisper it to me,” he murmured, tapping his ear. You stiffened as you two neared the counter, chewing on your lower lip. Your other hand crawled to his black leather jacket, tightening around the folds. He smelled sharp and clean, warm against you.

“Mango.”

He grinned. “Should have guessed.”

He casually spoke to the cashier, ordering two scoops of mango ice cream. You didn’t bother to look, not wanting to see her smitten expression as she spoke to Jungkook. You could hear it in her voice. Jungkook’s hand tightened around yours, making you gasp into his neck. He shivered.

When you were alone, people tended to ignore you. You were good at fading into the background, earbuds in to avoid having to respond to anyone unless it was necessary. But being with Jeon Jungkook was different, because now you were constantly stared at, either because they were staring at him or staring at you and wondering why you were continually eating slices of dried mango.

Even with Hoseok it was different, because Hoseok didn’t hold your hand like Jungkook did. He didn’t hold out ice cream cones and smirk at you as you tried to take it from him.

“Lick it.”

“I’m not a child.”

“It’s going to melt.”

You frowned and took a small lick. It was sugary and potent with mango.

Jungkook’s lips parted, licking his teeth.

“You’re a pervert.”

“Your pervert.”

It made you feel all weird and floppy inside when he said stuff like that. You make a face as he wrapped his pink tongue around the dripping confection, slurping it up. That also made you feel weird, but in a different way.

You two sat at the table, exchanging the ice cream back and forth, eating it slowly.

“Sorry I made you talk for me again.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. I like it.”

“I’ll try to be better at talking to strangers.”

Jungkook chomped into the cone, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s fine if you’re not. I’m not good at talking to them either.”

You raised an eyebrow. Jungkook grinned, white teeth flashing and his nose scrunching.

“It’s different when I’m with you though. Because you’re there, I don’t feel as anxious.”

His slicked-back black hair was pushed back on the right side with a silver clip. It made his cheekbones stand out more, accenting his sharp jawline and silver hoops. You looked away, feeling like you were looking too much. You took the cone, breaking off a bit to nibble on.

“Besides,” Jungkook continued, scooting closer to you. “I like it when you whisper in my ear.”

You stiffened, his warm breath on your neck. You took the rest of the ice cream cone and shoved it in his mouth. He choked a little, blinking at you in confusion as you stood up abruptly.

“I have to go buy a book.”

And then you began walking, Jungkook trailing behind you, your ears burning.

-

You hurried to Chemistry lecture even though you were early, clutching The Cobra Event by Richard Preston. Jungkook didn’t understand why you tried to read books in English.

“Seems so difficult,” he mumbled as you browsed the shelves, phone in your hand to translate the words you didn’t understand.

“Life is difficult.”

He looked down at your thick black stockings and short dark green skirt. “That’s true.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

A shoulder slammed into yours. You twisted, eyes shifting to the group of girls right next to you despite it being a large hallway. They were talking loudly about nothing that interested you. One of them caught your eye and sneered at you. You narrowed your eyes and swiftly stuck your heel out. One of the girls tripped and fell flat on her face.

You walked briskly past, nails digging into your book.

“Hey, bitch! Apologize right now!”

You heard the words being slung at you, but made your way to the Chemistry lecture door. It was locked.

Shit.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and flung it away, glaring. The young woman glowered back, her friends helping up the fallen one.

“You think you’re so fucking special, but once Jungkook fucks you, he’ll toss you aside like every other girl he’s dated,” she spat at you, emphasizing the last word with punching sarcasm.

You frowned, digging into your bag.

They laughed at you. “Always have to have something in your mouth, huh, slut?”

Your hand froze. There had been subtle signs before when you started dating Jungkook. Side looks and snide remarks made out of earshot. But this was the first time someone had actually confronted you about it. You weren’t normally the subject of bullying – you were good at staying out of everyone’s way and simply not existing in their universes.

Now, thanks to Jeon Jungkook, you were in everyone’s universe.

You cleared your throat and removed your hand from your bag. Fuck Chemistry. You turned away, intending to leave until class started. That is until you walked face-first into leather and denim. Too much slicked-back hair. A tiny winking mole under a mischievous smirk.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of dried mango. Your eyes went up to his dark brown ones.

“Eat it.”

You tried to reach for it, but he pushed your hand away with his free one.

“Eat it.”

You frowned and leaned forward to grab the mango with your teeth. The second your lips touched it, Jungkook bent down, chomping on the other half. Your eyes widened as his arm snaked around your waist, pressing your lips to his, sweet mango between you. Dark brown orbs onto yours, apologetic.

“Sorry I’m such a problem for you,” he murmured, pulling you to him.

Your gray sweatshirt hit his navy t-shirt, unexpectedly feeling the contours of his torso. His lips were still on yours, licking the sugar crystals off. Your black pleated skirt suddenly felt too short for some reason, your black tights not opaque enough for how tightly Jungkook was pressing his dark blue jeans against your legs. The silver and black boots you liked to wear stumbled against his black chunky sneakers.

“I’ll be better about protecting you,” Jungkook said softly, placing one last kiss on your lips before backing up.

You blinked at him, fingers reaching up to touch your mouth. The skin tingled strangely. You turned around, but the girls were gone. Your brows furrowed.

“I think I made my point,” Jungkook chuckled.

“Are they right?”

You turned around to face him. Jungkook tilted his head.

“Are they right about you?”

Now it was his turn to knot his brows. “Of course not. I’m serious about you.”

The Chemistry professor showed up then, unlocking the door. You turned away from Jungkook and hurried inside, not paying attention to him chasing after you, throwing yourself down into the front row seat and opening your book immediately. He tried to talk to you, even after the lecture, but you held The Cobra Event like a shield.

You ignored him for days.

-

“I borrowed a silver color today! Thought it would be different,” Hoseok grinned, tapping the silvery polish excitedly.

The side of your mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly as you helped him take off your current red polish. The wood of his table was a little stained by the acetone, but Hoseok assured you that the low table was ‘a billion years old and probably owned by a coke addict at some point’ so, in reality, you two were cleansing it.

“You’ve been cheerful these last couple weeks,” Hoseok quipped as he filed your nails. “Something good happen?”

You thought of that slicked back long hair and piercing dark eyes. The winking mole under pink lips. You frowned. You had ignored him even when he tried to poke at you between classes. Hoseok watched you carefully, frowning as you frowned.

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”

You tilted your head. “I don’t think my life has ever been paradise, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiled merrily, pinching the back of your hand lightly. “What about me? I’m the sunshine!”

You gave him a small smile. “You’re right.”

Hoseok smiled back, adjusting your hand on the table to spread out your fingers. Painting carefully, tongue between his lips. You watched him, lost in your thoughts. You wondered if Hoseok had ever had someone he wanted to be with all the time. Someone to hold his hand, go to places with.

“He kissed me.”

Honey brown eyes shot up, holding the brush between loose fingers. “Who kissed you?”

Your eyes found his. “How do you know if someone actually likes you and isn’t trying to turn you into a trophy?”

Hoseok put the brush back into the bottle and closed it, leaving three nails unpainted. He frowned slightly, taking a deep breath. “Is that it? You like someone, but don’t know if they like you back?” he asked, rubbing your knuckles.

You pursed your lips. You watched his fingers trace your skin, knowing it was different than the way Jungkook touched you. It was comforting when Hoseok hugged you or patted your back. When Jungkook had his arms around you, it was a feeling you didn’t understand, different from every other embrace you had ever had, from your mother, from doctors and nurses, from Hoseok.

You looked up at him. “I don’t know how I should be,” you said quietly. “I don’t know what signs are good ones. I don’t know how to react. I don’t know if I’m going too slow. And…”

You swallowed, eyes moving to the wall.

“I don’t know if I should even try, when I’m not even sure what love is.”

You heard Hoseok open the nail polish again. The scent attacked your nose and you turned back to him and his knowing smile. You thought he was going to tell you what to do. Hoseok was a happy person. He could teach you how to be happy.

“The funny thing is,” Hoseok mused, painting your last few nails. “No one really knows what love is until you’re in it.” He waved a hand over them, trying to dry them faster. “And it’s different for every person, every couple, even at different times in different phases of the same relationship.”

You watched him place small black hearts on the end of each nail with a pair of tweezers.

“Say what you want to say. Do what you want to do. If that’s too much for them, or too little, then talk about it.” He nodded, smiling as he placed two hearts next to each other on your ring finger. “Listen to their words the way you want yours to be heard.”

You stared at him, confused as to how Hoseok seemed to know these things. He added the top coat, not getting any on your skin. He was getting good at it now.

“Hoseok.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for being my friend.”

His smile could light up an entire nation.

“Same goes for you.”

-

You knocked on Jeon Jungkook’s apartment door impatiently. Was he not home?

There was a hasty shuffling and the door was yanked open. Jungkook blinked at you, startled.

He was shirtless.

Your eyes widened, seeing his naked chest. His tan skin was glowing, ink black tattoos along his right arm glistening. His hair was damp, long dark curls around his face, almost to his jaw. It wasn’t slicked back like it usually was, but freshly washed. Black sweatpants slung low on his hips; feet bare.

You nearly turned around and left, but he called your name. The way he said it, sad and deflated, made you pause. You stared down at your silver nails, at the small black hearts. Then you faced him, brows furrowed and determined.

“Let’s not date anymore.”

He blinked at you, crestfallen. “W… what?”

You nodded tightly. “I don’t want to be thrown away by you. I don’t want you to think I’m disposable or replaceable or whatever other words can be used to describe lack of importance.” Your hands twisted in your purple sweatshirt, bunching against your tight black leather skirt. “You’re important to me and I want you to feel the same way too. So, if you don’t feel that way, you better say it right now, because I am scared and I don’t know how to express myself except directly.”

You locked eyes with those intense dark brown orbs, taking a deep breath, frowning slightly. There. You said it. You didn’t know if it was right or wrong, but it was what you had.

“I love you.”

You blinked at him.

“Huh?”

Jungkook smiled, brown eyes sparkling. “I really, really love you, strange girl with mango eating obsession.”

Your lips parted at this declaration. He leaned against the doorframe, looking down at you.

“I don’t think I realized what love was until I met you,” he continued, looking sheepish. “People were nice to me because they thought I was good-looking. I thought that was enough, being desired by many, thinking it was love. And isn’t being loved by many better than being loved by one?” Jungkook chuckled, earrings sparkling in the light. “But that’s not true at all. Because it hurt way more when you ran away from me. It hurt way more when you didn’t respond to my texts. It hurt way more when you acted like I didn’t exist.” He tipped his head against the doorframe, sighing softly. “Usually, I just go hunt for affection from someone else. But this time I sat around and wondered what I did wrong and what I could do better.”

Jungkook reached out and placed his fingers against your cheek, stroking it lightly.

“I think, even if you didn’t want to be with me anymore, I wouldn’t go looking anywhere else for a long, long time. Maybe ever.”

You reached up and wrapped your fingers around his.

“What if… this train crashes and burns?”

He smirked. “Then we went down in a blaze of glory and it would still be worth it.”

You took a step forward. Jungkook tilted his head, expression calm. Another step. Now you were right in front of him.

“Can we not call it dating?”

He shrugged. “Call it whatever you want. I’m fine with anything.”

You twisted your mouth to one side. “I don’t know any good words.”

Jungkook leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “That’s okay. Doesn’t need a word unless you want one.”

You smiled.

Then you raised your head and captured his lips with yours, surprising him. His eyes widened as you held his hand tight, inhaling the scent of his soap. For once, he wasn’t all leather and denim, too much gel, and sharp clean cologne. And you didn’t taste like sweet dried mango, no book to hold on to.

It was just you and Jeon Jungkook, standing in his doorway, sharing a kiss.

-

4. smut.

--

masterpost

[dine-on-darling]

Cat and Mouse

A quick thing inspired by the new animal event~

---------

“A whole week stuck like this…” Satan collapsed back into his sofa with a huff, fingers already massaging the bridge of his nose. “This is certainly going to be a trial.”

“Awe, it’s not so bad.” Daring sat next to him, an amused smile on her face while she ruffled his hair right between his new ears. She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling at how cute he looked when he closed his eyes involuntarily to enjoy it. “I mean, there are worse animals to be turned into anyway besides a cat, like uh… oh, what if you’d been turned into some kind of mole, huh? You’d be blind for the whole week. Or a worm, oooh, that’d be rough.”

She actually had a thoughtful look on her face, considering all the possibilities and despite his irritation, that did draw a laugh out of him. “Yes, I suppose the situation isn’t too bad, all things considered.”

“Yeah, in fact, I’m actually a little jealous of y’all. Seems like it could be kind of fun to be part animal for a bit, if only to see what I’d be.”

Satan leaned forward onto his elbows. “I have to admit, I was thinking the same thing. What do you think you’d be? I’d put my money on some kind of cat, like myself.”

“Hm, cats are fun, but I’d rather be a snake!”

He blinked. “Really? A snake?”

“Yeah!” She stood up abruptly, practically bouncing as she moved to stand on the other side of the coffee table in front of the couch. “I mean, they’re really cool; and also think of how kick ass I’d look with scales and slitted eyes.” For emphasis, she brought her hands up by her face in a claw gesture and stuck her tongue between her teeth to make a hissing noise.

Laughing, he said “But snakes are cold blooded, right? So think of how cold you’d get.”

“Oh yeah, I guess that’s true; and I hate being cold.” She crossed her arms with a pout. “Way to ruin my fun with your logic, Satan.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” He spread his arms with a shrug. “I do wonder why the potion hasn’t affected you, are humans really immune to it? Seems strange.” His gaze wandered over to his bookshelves; maybe he has something in here that could shed some light on this potion.

Darling shrugged. She was about to say something in response, but something felt… weird. Goosebumps rose on her arms, her skin started to tingle all over, and she was starting to feel really hot. “Ugh…”

Satan turned his head back at the noise. “Something wrong?”

No sooner had he said that when she doubled over, wincing. He shot to his feet. “Darling?”

There was a flash of light, and for a moment, he couldn’t see anything. It was exactly like what had happened earlier when he and his brothers had all turned, but it couldn’t possibly be…

The strange light vanished as quick as it’d appeared, and the first thing Satan noticed with the return of his vision was that Darling no longer stood in front of him.

He whipped his head to the right and left, searching the room for her. “Darling?! Oi, Darling!”

“Satan!”

He could hear her voice, but it sounded different, farther away. “Darling? Where’d you go?”

“Down here!”

Down?

Satan walked around the coffee table, and his eyes trailed to look at the ground where Darling had been standing right before the light show. And what he saw…

“Oh my, now this is an interesting development.” He crouched to the floor, his hands flat on the ground and his chin resting on them inches away from the now fun sized Darling.

The change in height wasn’t the only new thing about her, though. “You’re kidding me…” Darling reached up, feeling the pair of mouse ears that sprouted from her head. “I’m a mouse? That’s not exactly badass, but I guess it’s cute.”

“You’re surprisingly calm about this.”

She shrugged. “Oh, this is definitely weird, but it’s not like it’s completely out of the blue, I did watch you guys all turn earlier. Although…” She scowled up at the giant face in front of her. “Why am I so small?! I get it, I’m a mouse, but none of your heights were changed!” She stomped her foot in the most adorable tantrum Satan had ever witnessed.

“Hm, perhaps the effects are different for humans. We assumed it simply had no effect at all, but perhaps it was not only delayed, but slightly stronger for you as well. Fascinating.”

“Oh yeah, very fascinating.” She looked behind her at the pink tail sprouting from her back, curiously giving it a few flicks from side to side. “So, does this mean I’m going to be small for a whole week? How am I supposed to attend classes like this? Maybe Lucifer will give me some time off? Nah, that’s too much to hope for from that guy. You guys got any really tiny pencils? Satan?”

All words were lost on Satan right now, not even registering as his gaze was entirely transfixed on the tail swishing behind Darling. Now that he thought about it, there really was something so enticing about her in this state. She looked so small, so… so delectable.

The shift in the air was apparent to Darling. “… Uh, Satan? You good?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m perfectly alright.” His eyes followed Daring as she backed a few steps away from him, the movement exciting something inside him further. “You know, I realized that my nickname for you has never been more accurate, eh, my little mouse~”

“Uh, yeah, I guess you’re right.” She backed up a few more steps, his eyes never leaving her; a grin was slowly spreading across his face.

“And isn’t it so interesting that you happen to be a mouse while I’m a cat?” He shifted, rising onto his haunches exactly like a cat poised to lunge after it’s prey. If she weren’t the prey, she’d think the way he wiggled his butt like a cat too would be super adorable.

“Yeah, wow, that’s super funny, huh? Hey, what do you think the other boys are up to right now? Maybe we should go check- Eeep!”

Darling threw herself to the side to avoid Satan’s pounce. As soon as she pushed herself back to her feet, she scrambled to get behind the leg of the table.

“Oh, come on now, Darling, you know I’d never actually hurt you~” A purr rumbled in his chest under his words. “Let’s have some fun~ It’s not like I’m completely out of my right mind, I promise you will be one hundred percent safe.”

The same as the animal instincts seemed to alter the boy’s behavior, Darling could feel the mousey instincts in her screaming nope nope nope nope nope nope!

She looked behind her, eyeing the space between the couch and the floor. At this height, it was about the perfect size for her to be able to scramble under and hide. But could she be fast enough to avoid being caught? Only one way to find out.

She darted away from the table leg, hoping that staying underneath the table would make it harder for him to grab her.

Satan watched her, the bell on his tail jingling as he swished it about, the sight of her running only making him want to play even more. He let he get mere inches from the safety of the couch before he pounced again.

A tug on her tail pulled another squeak from Darling’s mouth, and she was lifted off the ground before she knew it.

“There we go, little mouse. What a valiant effort that was.” Satan held her up above his face with one hand, the other placed behind him while he leaned back on it casually. She flailed about in his grasp, twisting to and fro. He chuckled, poking her with a finger and making her sway like a pendulum.

He was already hungry simply watching her, but then he caught a whiff of her scent and the growl his stomach let loose could probably rival even one of Beel’s. He opened his mouth wide, eager to lower her in and get a taste.

But Darling wasn’t feeling like an easy snack. She twisted harder, and it was enough to slip her tail from his grasp. Landing hard on his thigh and bouncing off winded her, but he was surprised that she actually managed to escape that she was able to get a head start. By the time Satan looked, he’d lost sight of her.

“Oh, where’d you run off to now, my little mouse?” He sniffed the air, crawling along the floor slowly.

Behind a stack of books, Darling caught her breath. She moved as quietly as she could, eyes scanning the area for a better hiding spot. She knew his senses were already much better than hers as a demon, but she had no idea how much they were jacked up by being part cat. She’d have to be careful.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, little mouse~” He taunted. “Your sweet scent is calling to me, begging to be taken into my jaws. You can allow me at least a small taste, right? A little lick? Although, I can’t promise you won’t prove too delicious for me to not go further if I’m granted that.”

She ducked into the space between two stacks; she couldn’t see Satan from where she was, but that probably meant he couldn’t see her either. Still, it probably wasn’t a good idea to stay in this spot, but to go anywhere else she’d have to go more out into the open. Should she-

The books on either side of her were thrust apart, and a gargantuan hand landed on top of her, pinning her to the ground. “Caught you~” Satan purred.

Struggling wouldn’t be able to free her this time, that was very apparent. The demon’s head dipped to press his nose against Darling, her ears stood straight and still at the feeling of his breath puffing over her.

“Did you think you could escape this little mouse?” He grinned.

“I thought I could at least put up more of a fight.” She muttered.

He hummed, ears flicking. “It’s always amusing watching you try.” He muttered some words in a demon dialect under his breath and pulled back to loom over her, his smiling green eyes staring into hers.

And then he shot forward, and she only saw his open mouth descending on her before it closed around her torso. He lifted his head back up, Daring’s kicking feet dangling out from between his lips. His tongue swirled around her, a steady purr rising from his throat.

Darling covered her face with her arms, saliva coating every inch of her his tongue could reach. The powerful muscle pushed her about, pressing her first to the side of his cheek and then to the roof of his mouth, where it lightly grinded her against the surface in it’s quest to draw as much flavor from her as possible. The knowledge that this was her friend who wouldn’t dare really do anything to inure her wrestled with the new mouse instincts running in circles about her head. She to twist and push against his tongue, but he was too strong and his teeth gently but still very firmly clamped around her waist kept her in place.

After who knows how long of being prodded and tasted, she felt the pressure holding her secure lessen; but that was only to be followed by the sensation of his head tipping back, and she knew what was coming next.

Satan looked along his nose at her adorable legs flailing about. His little mouse sure knew how to make a fuss, and he so loved drawing out her flavor, but it was time to send her along.

He tilted his head back and swallowed deeply. Her legs slid past his lips, and he felt the bulge grow in his throat. It slid slowly deeper, and he swallowed again to speed her up.

Muscle squeezed Darling on all sides, her whole world suspended upside down. She couldn’t even move properly with how tight she was held. Eventually, the space opened up, and she was pushed out of his throat and into his stomach, which growled in welcome.

Satan stood and stretched, one hand going to his stomach to feel how the bulge in his abdomen became more apparent with the action.

“That was a fun game, wasn’t it, Darling?” He licked his lips.

Darling squirmed, pushing her feet against what she assumed was the outer wall of his stomach. “That’s one word for it.”

“What, you weren’t really scared of me, were you?”

“Hard not to be a little nervous when you’re a mouse being hunted by a giant cat.” She shrugged.

Satan crossed walked back over to the couch, rubbing his stomach with enough pressure for her to feel it. “I would never actually hunt you with malicious intent, you know that.” He sighed. “Though, I suppose I did allow these new instincts to get the better of me for a moment, my apologies.”

“It’s fine.” She shifted in place. “… Though does that mean you’re going to let me out now?”

She could feel his chuckle reverberate around her. “Not quite yet, all the chasing really made me hungry, and it feels too good to have my belly full.” He curled up on the couch, tail lazily flicking about and coming to a stop over his stomach. “In fact, I think I might even enjoy a little cat nap right now.”

She sighed. “Figures.”

As she snuggled back against the stomach wall, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this week before a new antidote can be made would prove to be rather interesting. Considering now she was literally prey living in a house of beasts.

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

Not His Fucking Prostitute

silwrFandom: Queen/ Bohemian Rhapsody

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Brian May X reader

TW: language, Freddie’s a fucking dick, slut-shaming I guess????

Genre: ANGST, tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 1.6K

Requests: OPEN

A/N: So, this is more of a lazy write, because i wanted to get a fic out, considering that the last chapter of Child Of Mine is taking forever. Because it’s a lazy write, I kind of took my favourite scene from the movie. Sorry if this annoys anyone. This was fun to write and if y’all like it, I’ll probably write a part 2!

You clutched the two boys hands tightly as you were led into the living room by Paul. Your brother, Roger, let go of your hand as he wandered over to one of the chairs, collapsing into it lazily. You shook your head lightly before taking a seat next to your husband, Brian, but still close enough to Roger just in case either of you lashed out. There was a pit in the bottom of your stomach and you could tell that your bandmates felt exactly the same. Roger quickly lit a cigarette, taking a drag before handing it over to you. Brian sent Roger a disproving glance. He didn't care that both of you smoked, it was the fact that you shared cigarettes that he found peculiar. It was something you'd started doing in university. What was the point in wasting money buying two packs for two different people? You both pretty much went everywhere together anyway. Deacy was lounging on his seat, perching his head on his hand. Brian took your hand as you passed Roger the cigarette back after taking a drag. Suddenly, Freddie strolled in trying to look casual, but it was obvious he was on edge. Your fellow lead singer poured himself a drink as Paul took a seat in the corner with a cup of tea. Roger quickly extinguished the cigarette, placing it in the ashtray. Freddie kept his back to the band as he began to speak.

"MTV banned our video. The Youth of America. We helped give birth to MTV." Freddie announced, swiftly spinning on his heel to face you all, annoyance clear on his face.

"It's America. They're puritans in public, perverts in private." Brian reasoned, leaning back slightly.

"I'm never touring in the US again. And I'm the one being blamed for it. Not you dear, whose idea, I believe, it was to dress up in drag." Freddie gestured to you and Roger, who immediately exchanged glances " And not you." he looked at Brian " Not even you, who wrote the bloody thing."Deacy was next to be aggressively pointed at " No. Crazy, cross-dressing Freddie. Freddie the freak. Freddie the fag.  I'm tired of touring, aren't you? Album, tour, album, tour. I want to do something different." Freddie huffed and your friends shot him an exasperated look.

"We're a band. That's what bands do. Album, tour, album, tour." Brian responded, raising an eyebrow

"Well, I need a break. I'm sick of it." Freddie turned to the window harshly.

"What are you saying, Freddie?" Deacy questioned, voice clear of any emotion. There was a pregnant pause, doing nothing to relieve any of your nerves.

"I've signed a deal with CBS records."He finally admitted. Everyone shot up in their seats, faces showing both surprise and anger

"You've done what?" Roger snapped, glaring daggers at Freddie's striped shirt.

"Without telling us?"You added, voice rough. Brian squeezed your hand. You had an identical temper to your brother. Short, explosive and sometimes terrifying.

"Look, I'm not saying we won't record or ever tour again. Queen will go on. But I need to do something different. Do you know what I mean? I need- I need to grow. What's-what-what's the song? "Fly Away"?" Freddie tried, swivelling around. Out the corner of your eye, you could see Paul's beady eyes watching the band's every move, his mole-like face failing to hide his joy.

"Spread my wings and fly away" Deacy quoted, his eyes narrowed slightly. You were shaking at this point, anger coursing through you. Brian was watching you carefully, just as Deaky was watching Roger. One Taylor's temper was one explosion on its own. But two? It was like a world war.

"Spread my wings and fly away" Freddie parroted, a small, awkward smile on his lips.

"A solo album?"Brian asked in disbelief, both his eyebrows raised. He couldn't believe that this was happening.

"Two, actually."Paul chimed in and your head snapped in his direction, fire in your eyes. However, Roger managed to voice his annoyance first

"Another word out of you and ill throw you out the bloody window." Roger barked, his hands formed into a fist

"But that's years Freddie. I mean that'll take years" Deacy stated, resting both his elbows on his knees.

"Ye of little faith, "Freddie remarked

"I don't believe this." Roger huffed and you twisted your torso to look at Freddie.

"How much?" You questioned, voice hard. Even Roger was scared, underneath his own fury. "What did they pay you?" You recieved no response, so you stood up, your knee catching the coffee table, causing it to scoot back. Roger stood up too, prepared to stop you if you tried to hit someone. "I wanna know how much they paid you!"

"4 million dollars!"Freddie yelled and your eyes widened and you began pacing, Roger close behind. He leant on the back of Deacy's seat and you were leaning on his shoulder

"That's more than any Queen deal." Deacy murmured, shock lacing his voice.

"Look the routine is killing us. I mean, you must all want a break from the arguments. I mean, whose song gets on the album, whose song's the single, who wrote what, who gets a bigger slice of the royalties, what's on the B-Side, all of it! You must need a break!"Freddie exclaimed, his tone surprisingly light

"Freddie we're a family."Brian snapped, edging on a hiss.

"No, we're not! We're not a family. You've all got families, children, wives! What have I got?"Freddie shouted suddenly, making you tense. He gestured at you as soon as he said wives, glaring at you slightly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you gripped Roger's arm to stop yourself from doing anything irrational.

"You've got 4 million dollars, perhaps you can buy yourself a family," Deacy remarked, clearly trying to stand up for you considering that your vexation was rendering you speechless for the time being.

"I won't compromise my vision any longer."Freddie growled, bringing his cigarette to his lips as he snapped his body back to the window

"Compromise? Are you joking?" You piped in, unable to bite your tongue

"You were working at Heathrow before we gave you a chance!"Roger continued, usual soft voice turning bitingly cold

"And without me...you'd be a dentist, drumming 12/8- time blues at the weekend at the Crown in Anchor." Freddie stormed over to Roger, getting right up to his face " And you. Well, you would be Dr. Brian May, author of a fascinating dissertation on the cosmos, that no one ever reads." Your grip on Roger grew impossibly tight as Freddie began targeting your husband "And Deacy, for the life of me...nothing comes to mind."Freddie finished, letting out a small breath of air

"I studied electrical engineering, does that meet your standards?"Deaky sighed. You saw Paul hide a laugh. You really wished Roger had thrown him out the fucking window.

"That's perfect."Freddie chuckled before finally looking at you.

"And (Y/N). You'd be sharing an apartment with your brother in a failing theatrical career, standing on street corners to earn extra money. Because you wouldn't have Brian to feed on or to become his prostitute." You felt yourself falter. That's when Brian and Deacy stood up. Deacy held Roger's arms as he lunged at Freddie. Brian began walking over to the group. Brian had a lot of patients... but hearing someone who was supposed to be his and his wife's friend basically call her a slut... it put gasoline on an otherwise calm fire. That's when you suprised Brian. You reached up and landed a harsh slap to Freddie's cheek. Freddie's cheek burnt and he gave you a flabbergasted look.

"You can say a lot of things to me. But never, ever say that I'm using my husband just to get money or fame. Just because you haven't realized that that is precisely what someone is doing to you. There's a lot of things that I am. But I'm. Not. His. Fucking. Prostitute. The fame has gotten to your head Bulsara. " You hissed and Freddie simply replied with a blank stare before beginning to head to the door.

"You just killed Queen."Roger snapped before he could leave.

"Oh give it a kiss one day. She might wake up."Freddie stated cockily.

"You need us, Freddie. More than you know."Brian tried one last time.

"I don't need anyone."Freddie then took his leave. Paul followed, after putting his hand on Roger's should, which was instantly shoved off. Deacy finally let go of Roger who immediately pulled you into him.

"I should have fucking killed him,"Roger mumbled into your shoulder

"Yeah, I should've too," Brian replied and you could see on Deacy's face that he agreed.

"So what do we do now?" Deaky asked and you pulled back from Roger's hug.

"We can't make music without Fred. It wouldn't be the same. I suppose we just continue on with our lives as best we can." Brian sighed and you glanced between your three boys.

"I'm sorry guys. I shouldn't have gotten as angry as I did. And i shouldn't have hit him." You apologized quickly.

"Don't apologize (Y/N). Shit-faced or not, Freddie should never have said that. You have every right to be angry." Deacy replied, running a hand over his face.

"I guess we should probably get out of Freddie's house," Brian suggested and you all nodded in agreement. After leading yourselves out, you and Brian got in a cab, wishing Deacy and Roger goodbye. They were both heading back to their own families. As you and Brian began your journey home, he wrapped his arm around your waist, resting your head in his neck and placing his own head on top of yours. He loved you so much. Freddie could say whatever he wanted. But he was yours, just as you were his.

Tags: @dusthas-beenbitten @writingfortoomanyfandoms @queens-n-roses @silvver-rose @benhardyjones

i think tags are broken again. Also, i know this isn’t everyone but tumblr is super glitchy and and my google docs keeps crashing.

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose - extra

Mutual Pining and They Were Roommates with some Accidental Voyeurism - a deleted scene from Ch. 38.

The awesome art is by @gingerbreton - and yes, I’m counting it as a bribe ;P

Water travel did not agree with Cuno. Ever since setting off from Redcliffe, the hound’s ears had drooped, his forlorn silence punctuated every now and then by a put-upon whine as he padded out the length of the captain’s tiny cabin.  He had even refused his dinner, and while in the short term this was probably a boon for all in the vicinity, it was not a trend Rosslyn could allow to continue, not when they still had a week or more of voyaging left to do, with far rougher seas ahead. She sat on the floor by her bunk, coaxing Cuno’s interest in small morsels of chicken and ship’s biscuit by pretending to make them disappear. Alistair had taught her the sleight of hand in a spare moment between meetings, when he insisted the rosebud proffered in his fingertips had been conjured entirely by magic, and she laughed now to watch the polite interest on her dog’s face turn to bewilderment as she opened her palms and revealed them to be empty. 

“You’re getting the hang of that,” said a voice from the door. Alistair was soaked in sweat, his shirt sticking to the lines of his torso, face visibly flushed even in the fading twilight. From the smile playing about his mouth and the casual way he leaned against the doorframe, she guessed he had been watching her for some time, the thought of which brought a surge of heat to the back of her neck.  

“Not quite,” she replied, as he stepped behind the curtain that divided the room. A heavy paw landed on her wrist and a cold nose snuffled for the treat hidden in her sleeve. “Mhairi put you through your paces then?” 

He chuckled. “Something about wanting to ‘test me in adverse conditions’. I don’t think I’ll be able to move tomorrow.” 

Smiling, Rosslyn turned back to Cuno, aware of her cabin-mate scouring through his possessions to find a clean shirt. After a few moments of what must have been fruitless searching, she heard the strike of a match and the cramped room filled with muted, flickering light. They shared the silence, letting the creak of timbers and the distant calls of the crew wash over them, until the shunting of boxes on Alistair’s side of the room quieted to a softer ruffle of cloth and Rosslyn had to work harder to keep her mind on her dog’s entertainment. 

“Would you like to have dinner?” 

She started. “I’m sure Brantis will call us when it’s our turn to eat.” She had been down to visit the Rivaini cook earlier to ask for the scraps, and even at such an early hour the smells wafting from the galley had been enough to make her stomach gurgle. 

“No, I mean...” He sighed, and through the canvas divider she could see him silhouetted by the candle, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Would you like to stay here and have dinner? The two of us. There’s a barrel in the corner we could use as a table.” 

The last words were muffled as he drew the shirt over his head. Her breath stuttered. Though she couldn’t tell which way he was facing, the candlelight clung to his outline, cutting the sharp definition of his shoulders, the way his body stretched to pull the fabric clear of his arms, and how the action left his hair a tousled mess when he finally cast the garment aside. He bent down to reach for the cloth his valet had left him that morning, and as he wiped the sweat from his neck she followed the movement despite the long-distant lessons of her upbringing that screamed at her not to stare. If she ducked around the curtain, what would he do? She imagined sliding her arms around his waist, inhaling his scent and hearing the small, sharp gasp he might make as she pressed a kiss to the mole on his right shoulder. He might turn, then, and mirror her embrace, might lean close and brush his thumb along her cheek… 

“Rosslyn?”   

Mortified, she coughed and shook herself out of the daze, hoping that her silence hadn’t stretched far enough to make him curious. “I’m here,” she reassured. “That - sounds nice. I’d like to. Although,” she added, turning sly, “are you only asking because you’re trying to hide from more etiquette lessons?” 

“Ha. Yeah.” He ducked his head, shoved a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s it exactly. You caught me.” 

The gesture brought a smile to her lips, even as guilt needled her for making him back down. She could still see him through the curtain, standing awkwardly with the cloth wrung between his hands like a penance, though the movement stilled when he heard her rise to her feet. Like shattered glass, the easy silence of before lay in the space between them, a barrier of far greater awkwardness than just a thin fold of draped canvas. She wanted to cross it, and wanted to run as far away as possible and never look back. 

“I’ll go and tell Brantis to have our portions delivered here,” she offered, careful not to look round as she moved towards the corridor. 

“That’s - yeah, that’s a good idea. Uh… Rosslyn?” 

“Yes?” 

“Is everything alright?” 

Still entirely too warm, she paused in the doorway and turned, wanting to reassure but unable to find the words. He watched her with a slight crease between his brows, with the softness of the candlelight gilding his skin, and again she was struck by the urge – the desire – to close the space and touch him. She bit her lip, tore her gaze away. Tried to keep her breathing steady.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said at last, unable to keep her smile at bay. “Just new.”

[raptorginger]

The Waffle House Index

Yes, that’s a real thing used by FEMA

I did the thing!  Short one shot inspired by the madness on Twitter yesterday

The heavy downpour continued its relentless assault on her windshield, and thunder kept rattling her bones, but Rey knew the worst of the hurricane was over.  Hurricane Mary had slammed into Key Largo with little warning, and authorities had issued evacuation notices, but Rey hadn’t been able to get out in time.  She had hunkered down with her landlord Unkar in his office at Niima Motel, both of them too stubborn to heed the notice before it was too late.  Rey was cursing her stubbornness at the moment as she swerved carefully to avoid the trees, branches, and debris strewn about Highway 1.  Unkar was grumbling in the seat beside her, anxious to get to their destination.  Unkar would prefer to drive, but his truck was crushed beneath a palm tree, so Rey’s beat up Geo Tracker it was, and she never let anyone else drive her car.

“Watch it, girl!” Unkar snarled in his old man way, his arthritic fingers gripping the arm rest.

“I’m doing my best Mr. Plutt,” Rey snapped as she leaned forward to try and see the road better.

Unkar grumbled and coughed beside her, crossing his arms.

“Damn place better be open,” she muttered under her breath.

A snort of laughter erupted out of Unkar.  “We’d be dead if it ain’t.  If it’s closed that’d mean we survived the apocalypse.”

Rey shot him a confused glance before turning her eyes back to the road.  “What?”

“You ain’t never heard of the Waffle House Index?  Oh right, you’re from some snotty place in England.”

Rey rolled her eyes.  The place she came from in England could never be called snotty, but Unkar considered all of England to be, how had he put it?  Full of high falutin’ muckity mucks.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, girl.  It’s a legitimate scale.  FEMA uses it,” he boasted, puffing out his chest at knowing something she didn’t.

“What is the Waffle House Index, Mr. Plutt?” Rey asked, humoring him.  Hopefully it’d keep him from side seat driving until they got to the restaurant.

Rey barely heard him as he blathered on about the index and the three color levels and what they meant.  Finally Rey could see a tall sign glowing bright yellow through the haze of the rain.  She slowed to a crawl, grateful there was hardly anyone else on the road, and watched for the turn.  At last the actual sign for the restaurant appeared, glowing brightly like a beacon.  Rey rotated the wheel and pulled into the parking lot, parking in a spot close to the entrance.  She arched a brow in bemusement.  The outside of the restaurant was styled like an old fashioned American diner with a bright yellow crown of sorts emblazoned with large black letters proudly proclaiming ‘Waffle House.’  She was happy to see that the inside was brightly lit, and she could even see a few people milling about inside.

“Looks like the index is green.  Let’s go, girl,” Unkar said gruffly.

“Let me help you, Mr. Plutt,” Rey insisted, jumping out of the car and running over to the passenger side.  She threw the hood of her dark green windbreaker up, holding it with one hand while she opened Unkar’s door with the other.  He was muttering something about not needing help, that he could manage just fine on his own, he wasn’t an invalid, but his grip on her arm was firm and grateful as he carefully set the base of his cane on the pavement and stepped down.  Rey smiled when she felt his hand pat her arm in thanks.  She helped him into the restaurant, and she sighed with happiness as she felt the warm air hit her damp face.  She pulled her hood down and sniffed.  The place smelled of syrup and breakfast, and it indeed was fashioned like an old diner.  A handful of people were seated at the bar, cups of hot coffee clasped between grateful hands.  Rey’s eye was drawn immediately to a large figure slumped over the counter, his large hands swallowing the mug he was holding.  His dark hair brushed his shoulders and shielded his eyes as he stared into the dark contents of his mug.  A grey henley was stretched pleasingly over his torso, and the dark rinse jeans her was wearing seemed to fit him to a tee. Rey was suddenly glad Unkar had insisted on venturing out.  He ran one large hand over the back of his neck and heaved a sigh.

Unkar released her arm and lifted it in greeting to a group of elderly patrons seated at a booth in the corner.  They all waved and shouted greetings.  Unkar’s poker buddies, Rey realized with some surprise.  Apparently Unkar and his friends all shared the same sense of stubborness.  Rey helped him over and made sure he was settled comfortably.  He patted her hand in thanks, and Rey blinked in surprise when he gave her a kind smile, his rheumy eyes twinkling.

“Thanks, girl,” he whispered gruffly.  He slipped a crisp twenty dollar bill into her hand and shooed her over to the bar.

Rey wandered over, shrugging off her coat as she went, hanging it on a nearby coat rack.  She took a seat beside the dark stranger and picked up the menu a friendly waitress placed in front of her and poured her a cup of coffee without her even asking.

“Thank you,” Rey murmured to the middle aged woman.

“No problem, Hun.  Take your time, we got the full menu,” she said cheerily before she went to see to another customer.

Rey focused on opening sugar packets and the tiny containers of creamer while sneaking glances at the guy beside her.  In profile, she could make out distinct, somewhat angular features.  A broad nose, a plush looking mouth.  The few moles and freckles peppering his pale skin.  Rey felt warmth return to her blood.  She had never really thought she had a type, but he certainly seemed to check a lot of her boxes.

“You ignore the evacuation order too?” Rey finally asked quietly as she stirred her coffee.

The guy turned his head to look at her, and Rey bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check.  His whiskey colored eyes searched her hazel ones, and his sinful looking mouth quirked into a lopsided dimpled smile.  She returned his smile with one of her own, putting her hand out.  He took it gingerly, giving it a small shake.  His hand dwarfed hers, and Rey felt her cold hand pulling the heat from his warm one.

“Rey,” she murmured.

“Ben,” he replied.  He had a pleasant voice, one she wanted to never stop listening to.  Deep and comforting.

“What’s good here?” she asked, resuming a conversational tone.

Ben shrugged his shoulders.  “Just about everything.  And yeah, I did, to answer your earlier question.”

Rey hummed as she perused the menu.  She figured a place called Waffle House probably had good waffles.  Their waitress returned after a few minutes, placing a large plate laden with fried eggs, bacon, toast, and hashbrowns in front of Ben.

“Have you decided, Hun?” she asked Rey kindly.

“I think so.  Could I have one egg, over hard, some bacon, and a waffle?  Please?” Rey asked timidly.  She always felt shy ordering food, like the server would say “no” or something.

The waitress scribbled her order down in her notepad.  “Sure thing,” she said with a smile.

Rey watched in envy and fascination as Ben ate.  He put a bit of everything between the pieces of toast, eating most of what he could like a sandwich before just shoveling the rest into his mouth.

He wiped his face with his napkin before looking at her again.  “Sorry.  I’m usually not such a caveman, but I was stranded at my bank.  I haven’t eaten since the other night except for some packets of pretzels and peanuts.”

Rey gave him a reassuring smile and placed her hand gently on his arm.  He flexed his fingers, and Rey enjoyed feeling his muscles and tendons working beneath her palm.

“It’s okay.  I know how it can be,” she said softly.

Ben looked at her quizzically.

“Not having food.  Being hungry,” she clarified.  “I grew up not knowing where my next meal was coming from, so you know, I get it.  Don’t feel embarrassed, or whatever.”  She was no longer in that situation, but she remembered it all too well.

“Is that why you sound like a shy kid when you ordered food?  Because sometimes people you asked would tell you ‘no?’”

Rey blinked, surprised at his perception.

“I’m a counselor.  It’s my job to pick up on these things,” Ben said.  A look of worry flashed across his features and Rey smiled, wanting to let him know he hadn’t put her off.

“I guess, yeah, that’s why,” she answered with a laugh.

Rey’s breakfast came shortly after that, and Ben ordered another plate, although he ate it slower this time.  She looked over her shoulder at the booth where Unkar sat with his friends, and she smiled seeing that they’d decided to have an impromptu game of poker.

“Who’s that?” Ben asked around a mouthful of bacon and egg.

Rey returned her attention to her waffle, carefully spreading an unnecessary amount of butter and pouring syrup over the golden confection.  “My landlord,” she replied as she cut into it.  She closed her eyes and sighed deeply as she took the first bite, enjoying the interplay of flavor and texture.  “God, I love waffles.”

Ben laughed.  “You guys ignored the order too then, eh?”

Rey nodded and swallowed another large bite of waffle.  “He’s a stubborn old guy.  Insisted on coming over here as soon as we could.  Those are his poker buddies,” she mumbled jerking her head towards the booth.

“Looks like you’re gonna be here awhile,” Ben said casually as shouts of triumph and protest erupted from the booth.

Rey bumped his shoulder playfully.  “Want to keep me company?”

Ben bumped her back.  “You bet.”

[teenmaximoff]

✵ ― Hard Times

I literally was just trying to sleep because I have to function tomorrow and in the middle of my nap, I was awoken by the devil telling me to write this fic right away. And I sort of got carried away. Also shoutout to me. This is my first Eddie-centric fic. I love my dead gay son so much. i’m going to call out @rememberingtozier​ because look !! I wrote fluff, who knew I could ?!?!

Words ;; 1850 ･ﾟ Pairing ;; Richie Tozier / Eddie Kaspbrak  ･ﾟ  Warnings ;; FLUFF BOYS, Strong language, pot smoking mentioned, an overall gay vibe

❝ — Richie had been crashing at Eddie’s the past week or so. The two had yet to really touch on the fact that Wentworth and Maggie had yelled at Richie to leave and never come back . Eddie hated that he had to see Richie like this. So broken and defeated. He felt like he was unwanted, abandoned. He craved attention so much. It explained why he was the front runner for class clown five years in a row. But Eddie and the losers knew the truth behind all the ‘your mom’ jokes and dick puns. He was all but homeless as of a month ago and still made an effort to make his friends laugh. It was incredible. He was incredible.

Eddie shuffled in the bed, Richie snoring alongside him. He turned to face the window, sun rays cutting through the ivory, plastic blinds. Eddie watched Richie sleep for a few moments. Just taking in the view. Eddie had developed feelings for the trashmouth long ago. He rolled his eyes and got mad when Richie cracked jokes, but Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way. And spending the past seven days sharing a tiny twin bed with the boy only made his feelings grow.

When Richie dropped the bomb that he was not welcome back home, there was nothing but chaos. All the losers yelled over one another, shouting different forms of ‘what the fuck ?!’ at Richie. But he was calm. He waved at them, waiting for them to calm down. He didn’t seem phased. It was not like Richie to want to bother his friends. After the chaos settled, Richie explained himself (to a degree). Not fully explaining the logic behind their huge fight.

Stan took the first session. They were best friends after all. Eddie often thought about that. If Rich and Stan were the closest out of the losers, what did that make them ?? He liked to think him and the curly haired boy got along just a much as him and Stanley. But they always seemed to have these moments where neither of them could cross the line from friendship to something more. An invisible wall of awkward preventing them from making progress. What that progress entailed was still unknown to the two of them.

Richie stayed at Stan’s for about a month, all without papa Uris finding out. Andrea snuck extra food to Stan for Richie and it was going fine for a good amount of time. But the jewish holidays came up, and with family coming in and out, Richie had to move on. Eddie was next. Sonia would flip if a homeless kid was squatting in her home. It was for the best if they kept it all under wraps. Richie climbed through Eddie’s window each night and they stayed shacked up like they used to when they were kids. Eddie couldn’t wait for the rustling outside his window. He counted the minutes after school until he arrived.

Eddie’s alarm went off and Richie’s eyes shot open. Eddie quickly turned to smash the snooze button, so not to look like he was just watching his friend sleep for the past ten minutes. His heart was racing. These thoughts for Richie. Thoughts about snuggling him, holding his hand in public, kissing him were not new. But they were sixteen now and a little too old for crushes. What Eddie felt for Richie was far more than that.

“Five more minutes...” Richie moaned, taking the blanket and pulling it over his head.

“You need to shower before school, mister.” Eddie poked at the hump in the comforter, to which a hand came out and slapped away. Eddie just chuckled, grabbing Richie by the shoulders and shaking him. “Wake up, sleepy head !!” Richie moaned again and this one was so groggy and low, coming from the back of the boy’s throat. It made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up. Fuck - it was beautiful sounding and it didn’t help that the noise was coming from a boy in Eddie’s bed. He regained his composure and pulled the covers back, revealing Richie’s speckled back. Since when did he sleep without his shirt on ?? Both tore off their pants before hopping into bed together - that was just normal, because honestly who sleeps with pants on ?? Eddie barely noticed it. He tells himself he barely notices. But the truth was two nights ago, their bare thighs collided in the middle of the night and Eddie nearly had an asthma attack. But this whole sleeping with no shirt on ?? This was very new. New and very alarming.

“Okay! Okay. Eds, I’m awake.” Richie murmured, head stuffed into the pillow. He turned his head to face the shorter boy, gripping the pillow under him, as he yawned. He curled his back up, a disgusting popping noise resonating from the stretch.

Eddie made a disgusted face - as if he wasn’t thinking that Richie’s bare back should be named the new eighth wonder of the world. Richie squinted, rubbing his face before yawning once more. “Ugh, what time is it ??” Richie couldn’t see a thing. Eddie’s room was just a blur of blues.

“Oh - um - seven something -” Eddie squeaked out, having a hard time speaking because Richie was now leaning over him, patting around the end table for his glasses. “You forgot about last night, didn’t you ??”

Richie was out with Bev last night. Eddie could practically smell the weed smell before Richie began giggling outside his window. He would be annoyed, if it weren’t for the fact that Richie was clearly going through a lot and Eddie didn’t want to judge him for coping the only way he knew how. When Ed propped open the window, a wasted Richie tumbled to the floor, a lens from his glasses popping right out and cracking. Richie was way too exhausted to do anything about it right there and then. He started to kick off his pants and buried himself under the covers saying something along the lines of ‘that’s an issue for tomorrow - Eds.’

Richie then picked up the broken frames and sighed, memories clearly re-filling his brain. “Right...Well fuck...” Now Richie was just hovering over Eddie without a care in the world. As if his bare chest wasn’t just there, right in Eddie’s face. It was marvelous in so many ways. The moles and beauty marks that scattered all over his torso, the slight scar he got from jumping off the monkey bars when they were twelve. Even the dumb stick and poke tattoo of the Pythagorean theorem he gave himself on his ribcage while stoned on his birthday four months back. All of it was glorious. Maybe he lingered too long, but could you blame him ?? This was the closest he’s ever been to a near naked Richie in so long. And for sure - not since he started seeing the male form in a - sexual - way. He was just in his boxers and casually sitting on top of him, fiddling with his broken glasses - as if he wasn’t destroying Eddie from the inside out. Then Richie put the glasses back on the end-table, making the effort to lean down again and on his way back up, Eddie and Richie were mere centimeters from kissing. A gasp left the anxiety-stricken boy. “Woah there - Eddie Spaghetti. That was a close one.” He laughed. “No need to stare - I know I can barely see, but I can practically feel you undressing me with your eyes.”

“You’re not wearing any clothes.” Eddie fought back, trying to get the blame off him. Because he was very much staring.

“Yeah. Well.... I was hot last night. Stripped my shirt off...No big deal...”

“You are hot.” Eddie said casually and then the words caught up and he let out a noise that only could be described as a yelp.

“What ?” 

“What ?!” Eddie shadowed, much louder and high pitched.

Then there was this long pause between the two of them. Too long. It was really awkward, Richie couldn’t see Eddie’s panicked stare. He was kicking himself for speaking from his heart. He couldn’t help himself. He was falling for his best friend and you’d have to be as blind as the trashmouth to not see they had chemistry. The fact was the last few years, their friendship seemed to fizzle. Holding hands and pinching cheeks became awkward with age and the two’s puppy love had to be pushed aside. When they were alone, they let some things slip through the guarded cracks, but it still didn’t feel right. Both unsure of one another’s feelings - they were left at this stand-still of cautious touches and concealed feelings. But Eddie had enough. He couldn’t stand watching Richie in udder awe of his beauty and not being able to call him his own. So Eddie, for once in his life - wasn’t afraid. He lifted himself up and grabbed the boy’s cheeks laying a quick kiss to his lips. Richie’s instincts were to reach out and hold up Eddie, both pulling back a slight distance to marvel at each other. 

“You really think I’m hot, Eds ??” Richie joked, but there was a slight lace of serenity there. He had this sweet smile on his features, like he was waiting for this moment as long as Eddie had been. So many people nowadays had been pushing away Richie. He was a burden - having to sneak into his friend’s houses for shelter. He felt like no one wanted him. But Eddie did. And that made the trashmouth feel genuinely happy. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. The truth was he was kicked out of his house over a fight about him coming out. He confined in his mother that he was falling in love with his best friend, Eddie. Thinking the drunk wouldn’t even notice what he was saying or remember. But instead Maggie told Wentworth and sparked an all out Tozier screaming match. A fight that ended in Richie being disowned.

“Maybe a little...” Richie was blushing now - Eds probably too. The two attempting to hide their faces. Not like Rich could see. But then Richie leaned back in, kissing Eddie once more. They deepened their embrace, Eddie reaching up to tangle his fingers in the boy’s beautiful curls.

The alarm blared again. Both boys jumping back to stare at the clock. If they didn’t get ready now, they would miss homeroom. Or at least Richie assumed, because he could in no way make out the numbers. A unison sigh fell from both their lips, when they concluded they would have to cut their moment short. The two both laughed, inaudible from the loud barring of the alarm. But in that moment Richie - leaning over to turn off the alarm, letting his lips collide with Eddie once more - never felt more at home.

notes: I guess I could write a part two if people wanted it ?? I’ve got some ideas ;)