#although I do think a drunken one-night stand would be a plausibility between them

[xseaxwitchx]

Pining and Pizza [Part 2]

Fandom: DC Comics

Relationship: One-sided JayTim (technically)

Words: 2,124

Warnings: Implied horrible things for anyone not straight that’s open about it

Summary: The title, I feel, is self-explanatory.

A/N: This is part 2 to what originally was supposed to be a one-shot, but a second part was requested. So, without further ado, here ya go!

Part 1

Tim stood beside Jason, not really looking at the movies but instead trying to catch Jason in his peripheral vision. Why? He wasn’t sure.

“How about this?” Jason asked as he stood straight and held the movie case out to Tim. R.I.P.D he saw on the cover. “Sounds interesting. Any good?”

“Well,” Tim said, “it’s funny. Kinda sad at some point, but overall funny.”

Jason nodded his head definitively, making his way over to the television set that had the DVD player. Tim went to sit on the couch, cross-legged, waiting for Jason. As he bent down to put the DVD in, Tim couldn’t help the thoughts that entered his mind when he saw Jason’s butt. He pulled the hood down to completely cover his face, trying to fight off the thoughts. Stupid, stupid, stupid, thought Tim. There’s no way he’s going to see you romantically. Plus, he’s straight, isn’t he? Wait, you don’t know that for sure. Argh, why me?!

Tim startled out of his thoughts by Jason tugging on his sleeve. “You okay, Timbo?”

He let go of his hood, hands going to his lap, face dusted pink. Jason lifted the hood, peeking at Tim’s face and saw the light blush. “Why are you blushing? Have someone on the mind?” Jason and his goddamn smirk. Jason and his goddamn wiggling eyebrows. Jason and his goddamn...him. Goddamnit.

Jason laughed, yanking down the hood, Tim lurching forward a little with the force. He collapsed next to Tim, feet going up onto the coffee table, hands in his lap. Tim took off his hood, little attention on the TV, most attention on Jason. Why was Tim freaking out tonight? The crush had been blossoming for about five months now, and Tim never became as flustered as tonight. Why? He wished he knew.

Jason pressed play when the menu popped up, then placed the remote on the coffee table. As he reached over, the back of his shirt rode up, revealing part of his lower back as Tim turned his head to ask Jason a question. Tim had to swallow, struggling to control his blush and mind. At this rate, he might become more blush than human. “Hey, Jay? You want some chicken nuggets? I was gonna go make some, and wanted to know if you wanted any.” Tim surprised himself by keeping a steady and unsuspecting tone.

“Timmers, unlike you, I had food today. And just ate pizza. Maybe later, but for now, go take care of yourself and make chicken nuggets before I slap you,” Jason answered. Ah, tough love.

“Okay.” Tim pushed himself off the couch, padded his way to the kitchen, then to the cabinets for a microwavable plate. His mind wandered as his hands did. He debated whether or not to tell Jason his feelings or just wait to see if the crush would go away in time. All his being would love the second option, but his reactions tonight say otherwise. He absentmindedly threw open the freezer for the chicken nuggets, threw them on a plate, and stuck the plate in the microwave.

“What would be the worst that could happen?” Tim started muttering to himself, hoping Jason wouldn’t be able to hear him over the TV. “He says no, then the friendship or whatever the fuck we have is strained, then he runs, never speaks to you again, then you fall into--”

The beep of the microwave interrupted his muttering, indicating his chicken nuggets heated. He opened the microwave and let out a hiss at the hot temperature of the plate as he went to grab it. After a few seconds, he went to reach for the plate again, fingers stinging from the plate, but the temperature bearable.

His feet softly hit the floor as he tried to elongate the journey to the couch. Alas, it only took him all of 15 seconds.

The plate of chicken nuggets he set on the coffee table and returned to his place on the couch. The chicken nuggets slowly disappeared over the course of 20 minutes. Jason side-eyed him a few times, but for what, Jason didn’t know.

Tim started to scooch closer to Jason, seeing how close he could get without Jason saying anything. Soon, their shoulders barely touched, just sweeping by each other. Tim decided to try his luck; he scooched over until they were flushed together and he leaned his head slightly onto Jason’s shoulder. Just his luck that Jason turned to look at him as best he could. Tim’s head shot straight off and he backed up as Jason threw him a questioning look.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind...much,” said Tim, an edge of panic in his voice.

“Mmm, I don’t care. Just a little surprised because it’s only nine o’clock; didn’t think you’d be tired already,” Jason responded, hoping to relax the other man.

“So, can I?” Tim asked, referencing to leaning his head on Jason’s shoulder. Jason quirked an eyebrow in a “really?” expression. He happily made his way back to Jason, bodies flush against each other, head on Jason’s shoulders. They continued to watch the movie, neither saying a word to the other. Eventually, Tim’s arms wrapped themselves around the other man’s arm, him snuggling into Jason. Both remained oblivious to this action.

At the end of movie, Tim stretched one of his arms up, yawning. He didn’t remember ever feeling so tired, but safe and warm enough to comfortably let himself be so. His arm returned to its original position.

Jason peered down, now noticing their positions. All of a sudden, Jason felt awkward. He cleared his throat and was just about to ask Tim something when he heard mumbling. “What was that?” he asked.

Tim, mind hazy with exhaustion, repeated his words louder without thinking: “I love you, Jay.” He snuggled deeper into the man, unaware of his predicament until he felt himself being pulled away. His eyes blinked a couple of times before his mind caught up. When it did, his eyes widened in shock as he crab-walked to the other side of the couch to try to get as far away from Jason as possible. His face grew tomato-red and he once again grabbed the hood of his onesie and yanked it down over his face to save himself from seeing Jason’s shocked face.

“Tim?” called Jason. His feet came off the coffee table, one leg folded onto the couch and the other sitting on the floor, facing Tim.

“Tim’s not here right now; this is a hologram,” Tim responded, albeit slightly muffled due to the hood. Jason smiled a small smile to himself as he moved over to Tim. He took Tim’s wrists in his hands, tugging gently to get Tim to lower them and let go of the hood. Reluctantly, Tim let him. As Tim’s hands found his lap, Jason reached up to remove the hood, taking in Tim’s face.

“Tim? Tim, look at me,” Jason told him. He looked up, and their eyes locked. He felt himself shrink under Jason’s intense gaze, crumple and wishing to implode, to disappear; he couldn’t believe he let those words slip from his mouth in his tired state, and using “love” of all words.

Jason’s hands returned his own lap. He sighed, breaking eye contact and sweeping a hand through his hair. He opened his mouth to start, but Tim beat him to the punch. “Look,” started Tim, then drew a shaky breath. Tim took a moment to compose himself and Jason, interested in what Tim had to say, closed his mouth and gave Tim his full attention.

“Jay,” Tim started once again, hands tense as he gripped his legs in anxiety, “I-I, uh, meant it in a brotherly way, like, you’re my big bro. I mean, what other way is there to take it? Romantically? Psshh, that’s...no. What? Ri-ridiculous and--”

“Stop,” Jason interrupted him. “You and I both know that’s rambling bullshit. Tell me what it meant.”

“Fine,” Tim said, utterly defeated and cornered. “I like you. Not in a companionable way, not a brotherly way, not a friendly way. I like you as in, like you like you. I, uh, I have for awhile. I mean, after I go to know the real you. At first, I was attracted to you--your jawline, your arms, your eyes. Ya know, physically. Over time, I came to like your compassion, your heart, your sarcasm, your tough love, your...everything. Before I knew it, I was falling hard. You-You don’t have to do anything, of course, but then again, you were never supposed to know, then it sort of slipped out and now--”

Jason pressed a finger to his lips to silence him, a smile playing at his lips and sadness in his eyes. “Tim, let me tell you a story about me.” He put his hand down.

“I remember when I was a kid on the streets, when I was old enough to understand, I knew I was definitely attracted to girls. But I would occasionally find myself attracted to some male celebrities on the TV when I was allowed to watch with my mom. I remember the first time I told her, she sighed and told me to never tell anyone, to only date girls when I got older. When I was 12, I asked her why. I’m not retelling that part to you. Anyway, I was turned off by men when I heard what she told me and the fact that there was not one boy my age who wasn’t in a gang or violent for the wrong reasons.

“When I was Robin, romance left my mind because I was too excited to finally make more of a difference with Batman. I fell in love with the job and the quality education I was finally able to get. Of course, as soon as I hit puberty I died.

“After coming back from the dead, well, ya know. I didn’t exactly have romance on the brain.” Jason sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Then he continued.

“Of course, after that fiasco was over, Roy, Kori, and I teamed up for Red Hood and the Outlaws. One night, after Roy and I got piss drunk, we had sex. I don’t remember much, neither does he, about that night. All we know is that it happened and I found myself curious about men again. Not Roy, though. I love him like a brother.”

Tim sat patiently, listening and hanging on to every word. Chalk what he just heard to the list of things he didn’t know about Jason. “So then?” Tim prompted.

Jason continued. “I’ve been too scared, admittedly, to ask any guy out because of the neighborhood I live and work in.”

“But you’re Red Hood. I’ve seen you kick ass!”

“It’s not something you would understand, Tim.” Jason looked on forlornly and Tim felt his heart drop.

“Like I said, you don’t have to do anything,” Tim said dejectedly, sighing.

“No, Tim, you’re right, I don’t,” replied Jason, taking one of Tim’s hands in his. They made eye contact again.

“I can’t say I feel the same way, but, knowing that I wouldn’t have to worry about you too much, I think that maybe I’d like to take a chance,” said Jason.

Tim couldn’t believe what he heard. He must be hallucinating, had too little sleep. Nevertheless, his eyes started to water, lip quivering slightly. He didn’t know whether to cheer or cry.

“I honestly don’t know why you’d genuinely like me because I’m a fucking mess who doesn’t deserve to be loved--”

“Shut the fuck up, Jason,” Tim interjected. He pounced onto Jason, locking his arms around the other man’s neck and they both went tumbling to the floor between the couch and coffee table with an “oof.”

Jason landed on top of Tim, who pulled Jason into a kiss by pulling down on the back of Jason’s neck. What started as a kiss turned into a full make-out session. Jason pulled back, both panting for air. Tim’s hands still found themselves threaded through Jason’s hair, and Tim’s hair a mess from the carpet.

“We...are not...doing anything tonight,” huffed Jason between breaths. Tim whimpered in mock disappointment.

“Movies and cuddles it is, then,” Tim said. “Now get off; you’re becoming too heavy.”

Jason chuckled as he climbed off Tim and settled back on the couch. Tim went to pick the next movie after he adjusted himself. As he passed Jason, Jason smacked his ass playfully.

“Really, Jay? Was that necessary?” Tim said indignantly.

“What? Golden Boy isn’t the only one with a nice ass in this family,” said Jason nonchalantly.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Please do 8th, I am a whore for that one!! 😗

Bitter addiction

For @drarry-is-my-therapy | Dialogueprompt: " if you bite that lip one more time, I'm going to go it for you "

⚠️- SMUT | TANGLED FEELINGS | JEALOUSY | TOP HARRY |

Someone wise said There’s a fine line between love and hate, so fine that it may even seem like a point if far into deep. And so exists a very fine line between love and lust, much mistaken often to be the same. Combining the three, love, hate and lust, were what harry felt for draco. He hated draco, loathed with every single atomic matter that ran in his veins, his muscles and his psychological being and yet he loved the way draco was, they way everything about him screamed ' watch me', effortless in every sense, like he must've been curated by Michael Angelo himself, and harry loved him like he loved the hate he had for him. The man could snap a finger and he would be the hottest, most beautiful man in any room, just like an angel had himself come down to show mercy on harry and then there was lust. The most dangerous of them all. For once harry could handle the love and the absolute hate, but lust, it drove him crazy. It kept him up nights after night in relentless sighs, moaning and whispering his name like a prayer he'd learnt since he was a child. And above all, he hated that Draco made him feel.

Harry had been with men and women, woken up with strangers and had scattered them away but that one drunken night after work had transitioned into a fixed memory, as if everyone had after him was based on such evaluation, that everyone after him would have to be analytically better than him, but he had no competition. He was one of his kind, only one of who could make harry desperate to have him writhing under him and that was Draco. Harry remembers that night vividly when they had stumbled from the bar, to the kitchen in Harry's place, sloppily kissing each other, with moans emerging out of them like a rhyme to a poetry, and the hands all over each other. He remembers kissing the side of Draco's neck, hearing that grunt that made him groan in pleasure that sent fireworks across his body and all how Draco humped for the tiniest of friction between their bodies. One thing after another, Draco was lying under Harry, moaning for more, his eyes sparkling with the tears of pleasure as he asked Harry to go faster, like he meant it and harry remembered going on and on until the last of his breath gave out and he collapsed on top of Draco, marking his neck with hickey's in hopes that he may never forget the wondrous night.

But Draco had left much before Harry could've asked him anything and harry knew the sign too well, being the one who did it too often himself. He went to work that very next morning, not seeing Draco, even though they shared a room and even the same case but all Harry thought of was the pleasured look on Draco's face.

But they never discussed that night, as if so it was only a drunken mistake and nothing was left to talk about. Harry knew it then to never get involved with Draco, yet somehow, there he was with Draco's hands pinned against the bed above his head with one of Harry's hand resting over his little waist as he fucked Draco with so much of a pleasure.

But this time, Draco left before morning with a note " thanks for a great night ~ D.m."

Harry didn't know if he should've replied or not, but somehow decided he'd talk with him over work. But like last week, he couldn't, not because there wasn't anything left off to do but because he had Found him Flirting with Jackson in Muggle artifacts department.

This happened 3 more times in total when Harry had let down his so pulled up guard with only simple words that Draco Whispered in his ears when they'd dance " I want you, harry "

It was as if, Draco too was addicted with the pleasure of feeling Harry's soft, tanned skin against his, feeling his arms as Harry fucked him over the bed, feeling of his hands being pinned and seeing in Harry's eyes. Maybe it was bitter addiction to both of them, but it was addiction.

" he's playing on something " Ron had warned harry when Harry had tried to seek some advice while they were on a usual 'bitch about' session.

" what exactly could he even play at ?"

" I don't know Harry, maybe he's wanting you to reach out to him or definitely playing hard to get. Whatever it is, it seems like friends with benefits, only you don't know how if it really is your case " Ron explained as he squinted his eyes from the narrow beam of sunlight that hit his eyes

" why would he even do that ?" Harry sighed as he slumped further in his chair " I mean I'm fine with friends with Benefits but if that's what it is, I need to know "

" you're fine with friend's with benefits?" Ron asked as though he was surprised

" I mean- yeah. It's not like it's total shit. I mean yes there's a risk of actually liking him but what most plausibly could go wrong now. I hate him, yet I like him too "

" hm- you guys always have had a pretty weird relationship " Ron hummed playing with the crystal ball from his table

" I don't know. I'd Just like to know whatever it is that we have, like is it like exclusive or friend's with benefits or if it's just some random hook-"

" is he a jealous guy ?" Ron suddenly asked leaning forward as though he was finally attentive

" what ? "

" is he the jealous type of guy ?" He asked

" I- I don't know. I haven't seen him being potentially jealous of someone around me, although he does make sure that everyone watches him when he dances with me, but I don't think that's him trying to make anyone jealous " harry shrugged

" what's your point anyways ?" Harry asked crossing his legs

" you guy's are not exclusive, not that you two know and knowing you two both won't talk about it, make it seem like whatever you two have is exclusive"

" how exactly ?" Harry asked furrowing his eyebrows

" let's say, the next time you guys hook up, you stay up, or something, tell him to go Maybe and that someone's coming over " Ron suggested

" that's a shit suggestion but I agree on what you're trying to get on. I just have to make him jealous " harry hummed as he stared at the wall behind him

" exactly. Now you just have to find someone to actually make him jealous through "

" and who would that be ?"

" hey, ron can I talk to you for a mom- oh, send me a memo, whenever you're free "

Harry looked at Ron curiously as though the wildest idea came into his head " Blaise? You got a moment ?"

________________________________

Harry grinded his body against Draco's as they danced to the low music of the bar they had gotten drunk in like every other time it happened. Harry enjoyed the sensation of feeling Draco's hands over his side's, his body pressed against his own, his breath fanning over Harry neck, swaying his body with Harry's moves and then, there it was,

" I want you, harry "

Harry smirked to himself as he still danced against Draco, ignoring the uncontrollable urge to disapparate them to his bedroom.

" I'm sorry but I got a date in a few minutes " harry replied, his voice coming more of a rasp

Draco's Hands suddenly stopped swaying, his body becoming slightly stiffer as he mumbled " you got a date?"

Harry smirked to himself as he turned around " yes, a date. I'll see you around Draco" he winked and walked off to the bar, ordering one drinking, gulping it away and then he met Blaise.

Harry made it so much sure that draco definitely saw Harry Flirtatiously Whispering in Blaise ears. And grinned happily when he found Draco was watching, with a stern face.

The whole pretend with Blaise and dodging draco went on for 2 week until Draco had to ask, he just had to.

" what's the deal between you and Blaise ?" Draco narrowed his eyes from across the table at harry as he pushed back his chair to lean backwards

Harry looked down from where he was standing finding some file with an amused smile " nothing special. Why do you ask ?"

" no reason, apart from the fact that it seems unrealistic. Like it's staged " Draco tilted his head for emphasis.

" staged ? Looks like someone can't digest that I'm with someone " harry snickered softly as he stacked away files

" then tell me what Exactly of an item even are you and him ?" Draco asked, merely curious, perhaps more.

" nothing exclusive. Random hook ups. A few dates. Why are you suddenly so curious about me and Blaise ? Are you, perhaps, jealous ?" Harry looked at Draco with a mocking smirk

" jealous! Why would I be ?"

" I don't know, maybe the fact that I'm not just with you but with someone else too" Harry's Voice densed as he stepped closer to the chair draco was sitting on.

" why should that bother me ? We're not exclusive " Draco looked anywhere but Harry's face, as if he felt slightly embarrassed.

" exactly. So it's my business however I like to fuck Blaise, against the wall or against the bed. And that shouldn't bother you " harry smirked as he put his hands over the sides of Draco's chair, leaning down to face Draco.

" it's none of my business " Draco gulped as he stared at the proximity of their faces

" not your business, right. Then you won't mind if i tell you we hooked up after the last time we hooked up ?" Harry asked as he tried his best to stare at Draco's lips without wanting to kiss them.

" nope. Not my business. You're at perfect liberty to kiss whoever you want, whenever you want and wherever you want " Draco replied without taking his eyes off Harry's lips, as though if Harry leaned anymore closer he won't be able to resist himself.

" and how I kiss, right. It won't bother you if I kiss over his neck, give him a hickey as he moans, right. It won't bother you if I told you that I kissed him behind the building, made out even, or the fact that I kissed him when I fucked him last night or that I bit his lips, licked his lips and passionately kissed him with tongue with the desperation to just Rip each others clothes off with and just fuck until our breaths gave out like I fucked you against the bed, with your hands pinned above your head while you kept moaning my name and begging me to go faster. It won't bother you if I said, I did it with him too " harry rasped

" y- yes. It doesn't bother me " Draco swallowed.

" good then" and harry walked away back to stacking his files up in the rack again.

" I suppose you'd be bringing him to ministry dinner ? Rockwall's retirement dinner?" Draco had asked at the end of the day just before they left

" who ?"

" Blaise " he could've sworn Draco smirked before he had turned away to pick up his coat from the stand.

Harry frowned before he realised why he would " oh, I- no. We're not that public kind of couple sort of thing yet so. I'll ask him though"

" you should bring him " Draco had smiled mockingly before he walked out of the door, leaving Harry to fetch his own coat and bags.

" what's he playing at now ?" Harry furiously Whispered to himself as he left for home.

He didn't figure out what Exactly Draco was playing at until the very day of the ministry dinner and they were sat at the far end of the table, facing each other. Everything seemed fine until during the middle of the dinner, Harry not so subtly jerked on the feeling of something going up his legs. He apologized across the table until he noticed Draco sitting on opposite side as if he was satisfied with something and harry just knew, it was going to be one heck of a night.

He tried hard but Harry was forced to watch Draco eat, as he swirled his tongue around that of a cherry, tying it in a knot in mouths before he popped it into his mouth maintaining an eye contact with harry. It wasn't as if harry didn't had a choice, he had, he could simply look away from watching Draco sucking on straw rather seductively, eating a cherry or licking his fingers, but he couldn't simply resist because of the tension it forced down Harry. He was forced to watch Draco eat because if he didn't, he felt the world would implode with the energy between them. Draco too made sure harry was watching him and when he finally did take his eyes off him while eating, he travelled his legs up Harry's legs, slowly and carefully, causing a tingling sensation as he bit his lip. With almost a yelp, harry held the corner of the table tightly as his knuckles turned white, controlling himself. He wanted Draco to stop doing whatever he was trying to do but lord was he mesmerised with Draco biting his lips anytime Harry looked at him. It drove him crazy, more on the fact that he couldn't do anything about it.

Harry allowed everything to go as Draco until he was sure he felt something brush against his zipper. Harry almost grasped it, without a catch because there wasn't anything to catch. Suspecting Draco must be behind, as he was, he looked at him, glared at him more like to stop doing it, when he felt the tingling sensation again with Draco much juice-ly biting his lip with a wink and harry was done..

" would you all excuse. I have to use the washroom " harry immediately rushed to the washrooms, closing the door behind and breathed heavily. He stared down his pants, a much clearly visible boner had taken place because of Draco's mischievous behaviour and somehow harry loved it. He loved the tension, the lust and all the sexual energy there was. But sat in a ministry dinner he couldn't afford to have a boner or have inappropriate thoughts of fucking Draco right there because of how highly unethical it was.

Harry pushed himself away from the door, clearing his mind as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, his body relaxing little by little. To do at least something while he relaxed further, he washed his hands and just then he heard the door unlock.

" they're missing you out there " he smirked as he closed the door behind him, locking it with his back pressed against it, arms crossing in front.

" fuck off Draco " harry rolled his eyes as he closed off the Tap, taking the tissue and drying his hand.

" oh we got a little Arousal " Draco teased as he had seen Harry's pants. Harry blushed in embarrassment but didn't deter.

" because of you " Harry rolled his eyes turning around, pocketing his hands. Draco pushed himself from the door, walking towards Harry leaned over the sink, his back facing the mirrors.

Draco with lustful intentions, grabbed Harry's tie pulling him closer " I'm very glad then " he smirked as he swiftly tried to way his hands down Harry's body

" Draco-" harry rasped getting hold of Draco's hand, stopping it from going further

Draco smirked as he leaned over to Harry's ear, Whispering " I've got you Harry "

Draco bit his lip as he leaned backwards to watch harry trying to control his breathing as he was forced to watch Draco's lips.

" what you gonna do now ?" Draco seductively questioned as he moved his other hand to immediately cup Harry's pants.

" fuck " harry gasped as he tried to hold of Draco's hands but was pinned behind him with Draco's hold.

" i knew you and Blaise were never a thing"

Draco bit his lip as he cupped a little tighter than before, feeling how hard Harry have became in such a short span of time since he came in the washroom.

" I swear Draco, If you're going to bite that lip one more time, I'm going to do it for you " Harry's Voice deepened as he stayed there watching Draco with lust.

Draco smirked as he licked his lip and bit them again but a warning been given once, harry didn't waste time in pining Draco against the wall by their side in a few seconds that Draco didn't see it coming however he wasn't surprised.

" I warned you " harry purred

" who said I didn't want you to " Draco smirked. Harry only looked at him for a second before he pulled draco into a much awaited long kiss of lustful passion embodying their tongues in little battle of dominance. But once gave in, Draco never again stood a chance against the dominant harry, biting off Draco's lip without a care in the world only to hear him make the same sound he always did whenever harry found his lips over Draco. It was as if their lips were designed, but only for them, like they were made to be kissed by no one but them. Harry knew Draco was giving in because he liked it,he liked it when Harry was rough, he liked it when Harry took control because it was unexpected of whatever Harry would do and Draco loved it. He loved the passion, the desire, the desperation Harry's mouth held as they finely pressed against his as if his tongue was trying to write a letter over his mouth. And they kissed like they Only had other's air to survive on. They kissed like never before.

" admit it, you were jealous " Harry teased as he bit Draco's bottom lips, his body adjusted betweens Harry's leg as he was sat over the sink

" in your dreams potter " Draco moaned tugging the end of the roots of Harry's hair.

" you are a lot more than just jealous in my dreams malfoy " harry purred as he kissed him again, much nastily this time, as if it was a necessity.

" show me all you got " Draco moaned into his mouth and harry wasted no further time in apparating them to his bedroom without thinking of anyone at the party or what would he explain or how would he in the first place. All he cared right now was Draco, and his tangled feelings for him.

" you sure ?" Harry had asked only once after they had messily taken off each other's shirt off, now lost somewhere in the puddle of clothes while he was on top of Draco.

" never been more " Draco moaned before he pulled harry down into another messy kiss and slipped into the intimacy of moaning his name as they fucked again over his bed, only this time it was more than just fucking, Maybe it always had been more than just fucking to them. It might've been Making love, who knew, not even them, they were just hormonal men seeking desires to be fulfilled.

300 followers appreciation dialogue prompt request open

[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl x kurt cobain

hi guys omg- it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something, and my nirvana obsession has risen once again so what a thought into writing something dedicated to the one and only kurt himself <3 thank you ever so much to the person who requested this, i managed to write something i think i’m somewhat proud of aha

Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing! 

Word count: 2.165

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

Waiting for him to appear on stage for the first time was like a moment snatched out of a drunken stupor: so surreal I had to continuously pinch myself every few minutes for reassurance that this was really happening. With a mind cluttered in thought, it became hard to sit still for as little as ten seconds without being accompanied by an itch to either scratch my scalp in nervousness, or chew on my already bitten nails - attempting to sand off their roughened look from my previous antics. The most I had drunk that night was a couple sips of my gingerish coloured beer - with the room buzzing in anticipation and curiosity for who was headlining the bar tonight, it caused everything that even shifted slightly in its position to irritate me in all ways plausible. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t manage to let anything settle in my stomach without having a sudden rush of nausea bubble up in my throat; it was Kurt’s first performance tonight with his new, reformed band, and being told that he was quite nervous triggered an anxiety in my veins stronger than the pain of the first rush of heroin dousing my body after months of not being able to get hold of it - allowing all my stress, agony and dread to escape my body at an expeditious rate as my body adorned the poison I was granting into my limbs. It was inevitable: Kurt was bound to be nervous before his first performance with new material to a bunch of strangers that had never seen the wonders of his model-face before, and although he had performed many times, a grasp of worry still caught into his hair as he tried to pass the time, like a knot you seemingly are unable to rid of, leaving you with no other choice but to resort to grabbing a pair of kitchen scissors and chopping that bunch of hair off. Which he had done many times. 

Whilst time speedily went on, I found myself calming down by a small amount, consoling myself with different types of remedies in solution: downing my drink, ordering another (this time a gin & tonic to spice things up) and repeating the same, before slamming my now empty glass to the table and standing up to get a clearer view of the stage, knowing they were going to come on soon. All that wondered in my mind was Kurt, quickly reminding myself over all the time we had spent together - the times when we had first become friends. I had been introduced to him early last year when Krist had asked me if I wanted to see his new band he was bassing for - and immediately was I enthralled, knowing that once I had laid my eyes on him, I would never be able to detach them from him: a poor man, masked in aristocracy in ways not physical as it may seem. He captivated me. His presence carried such warmth it was able to counter against the sun; your cheeks immediately burning as he locked eyes with you. You instantly wanted to wrap your arms around him, and when talking, you were instantly drawn to his short yet meaningful phrases, laced in passion stronger than an avocado seed. As my eyes were locked firmly together with his, I was able to notice something so pure and wondrous I had been unsuccessful in finding in anyone else: care. A simple emotion, somehow one of the hardest to master. Regardless of what the subject matter might be, he always carried a certain interest to it - constantly having something to say. Even if you found him sitting excluded from everyone else, you could notice that there was something either battling his mind, or inspiring him for something - new music, lyrics perhaps. It’s enticing, it's human. He’s human.

Suddenly, a distorted strum of a guitar abruptly blared through one of the many amplifiers dotted around the small stage at the end of the room. The crowded space was now silenced by the hasty noise, my (slightly intoxicated, yet conscious) head now instantly turning to see what had happened - although I was for certain it was the time I had been most excited for. Little whispers and hushes were the only things you were able to hear for the span of a few seconds as the amp's sound had silenced itself, a small buzz affiliating throughout the room, a couple of heads turning back and forth to see the number of people collectively awaiting to listen to the music of the unknown band performing tonight. My eyes stayed glued to the stage as I pictured his character, standing there in the middle, Krist and Chad capturing the rest of the space, adorned by their instruments - playing along to Kurt’s beautiful melodies. Gazing at his figure, beautifully formed with such masculinity, decorated with concerning parts of emeation, slowly embarking its way through to the middle of the stage - guitar gripped firmly in arm - birthed dozens of baby butterflies inside my stomach, tickling my insides in all sorts of ways. My nervousness resurrected itself once again, as I had come to a realisation that I wasn’t imagining anything at all.

Silence. 

No introduction, nothing. From his immediate grace to the stage, I could tell he was nervous; the bright light emitting onto his face allowed me to see his features much more prominently - allowing you to just about to see the small stubble that was forming on his face from his forgetfulness to shave in the morning. However, I wasn’t able to admire his face for long, only for a few seconds before he fixed his gaze to his electric guitar, placing his fingers on specific chords, then turning to stare at his bandmates. A couple looks were shared between them all, a mere roll of the eyes from Chad, a small smile from Krist towards Kurt - for motivation, as the good friend he was. Kurt on the other hand didn’t change his facial expression, only nodding his head at both the boys before switching back to stare at the instrument adorned by his grip, beginning to bob his head slowly - counting himself in. Even from afar I was able to tell that at that single moment, he didn’t carry a care or a worry for anyone but his guitar, focusing all his energy and thought into this one specific thing: the start of the performance. 

1...2...3...4

As the music began, a smile branched onto my cheeks instantly. A song I recognised, my heart warming as I realised what was playing. About a girl, the song we wrote together. 

Usually, Kurt would write alone, not wanting anyone else’s input and ideas; all the band played was what Kurt had written, for it was truly only his work on that stage, just a few people helping out to put it together in life form. However, there was a significant time after a band practice weeks ago where I had attended due to me having nothing else to do, and watching the three of them play always made me feel content - holding my heart with hope for the new wave of music they were producing. As they were packing up their stuff at the end of the rehearsal, Kurt had slowly wandered off from tidying up and had come up to me, awkwardly wanting to show me what he had written for a random song: hungry for my opinion even when he never really cared what anyone thought of his music. We ended up co-writing that specific song together, the song sounding the room at this very moment. As I stared at Kurt all that was met with my eyes was his entire concentration to perfect everything that he was playing; every move of the finger producing a different sound as he attempted to hit all the ones significantly partnered with the song. He knew I was watching him, that’s why he played this song first and foremost. 

Lifting his head up from the guitar, his mouth instantly pressed itself onto the microphone, revealing his raw, raspy vocals. My eyes were physically unable to detach themselves from the sight I was seeing at this very moment. They had performed multiple times before, yet this time, something felt different. New. Almost as if everything pieced in together, and with just a bit of sanding around the edges - they’d be perfect, unlike any band I had ever seen live. Watching the crowd’s attention simply staying undivided towards the band made me feel a sort of elation the morning of Christmas would give you, the sensational feeling hitting you that its the date that brought everyone together; this time the music was the thing that brought everyone together. My eyes scanned the crowd, noticing some people bobbing their heads, surprised by their immediate tunes that were being emitted from the song, widening my smile - if that was even humanly possible at this moment. Their fresh, uncensored, gruffy sound was something not many bands at the time even thought about playing - that was for people who were behind their time, Sex Pistols era almost. The feeling that warmed my heart at that moment was something indescribable - illegitimate for words. It felt like a lighter had torched its way into my body, the sharp pain bruising a bright crimson all the way up my torso to my cheeks, a breath hitched back in my throat as I slowly figure out the way to breathe again. The pain that caressed my heart so dearingly was also paired with a strong sense of joy. Happiness. Delighted that the pieces of such a complex puzzle were fitting together. 

As a minute or so went on, the crowd slowly began to get more and more into the music, some people now swaying their hips or dancing around with their friends. I couldn’t help but wonder how Kurt was beginning to feel, or what he was already feeling. Euphoria at the highest degree, something so strong not even a multiload of ecstasy could even attempt to give you. I found myself singing along to the words quietly, resulting in the people around me noticing that I was the only one who actually knew the song apart from the band. A random guy had turned to look at me, drink firmly gripped in hand, and with his rough attempt to shout over the loud music, whilst pointing towards the stage. “You know them?”

For a couple of scenes everything went still. I stopped moving, my eyes slowly getting lost with the man standing on the stage in front of me as I accidentally ignored the stranger’s question. I continued watching the stage, my eyes focused on Kurt - until his eyes abruptly opened, locking in with mine instantly. Startled, he noticed my starstruck expression, a little grin hanging off his lips. Maybe it was out of arrogance, however I knew he wasn’t planning on taking them off soon - not that I’d be the one to complain. His eyes were bright, glimmering with happiness; filled with life and fertility as they pierced into my soul so daringly, carrying the same devilish want that Adam had been challenged with once told not to eat the apple off the tree - his mind so intrusive he was simply unable to resist. His wondrous orbs carried a hint of impish, vanity, as they were also laced with a hint of seductivity and perhaps a shed of horniness, sudden greed blistering over his ocean-like eyes; he wanted it all, in the most wicked of ways. It would be a white lie if I had said this didn’t make me feel some sort of way; had he never looked at me like that before, I might’ve said otherwise. Perhaps his sudden bursts of confidence spewing out of him made him act this way, regardless, I knew it was something real. His eyes bestowed the same hunger he had initiated into his sudden approach when asking me what I thought of the music he had written, the first time me and him truly bonded together. I seemingly was unable to detach my eyes from him, for my body, heart and mind stayed encompassed in thought of how bewildered I was; in simply over a year, I had watched him grow, become more confident, sanguine, and it was all showing off now. He was staring at me as if the world was ending, and that I was the last thing he wanted engraved in his mind, aiding him into dying in such complacency it was almost as equal as equilibrium in the world of absolute zero. “Yes I do,” I muttered, nudging the unfamiliar person whom I hadn’t even set eyes upon. Feeling his gaze burn into my cheek, I continued to focus my eyes on Kurt, my tongue licking the sides of my mouth as I figured out words to muster. “That’s my boyfriend,” 

[barnesbabee]

Just Can’t Get Enough || J.W

Summary: Wooyoung found out he had a kink in the most unlikely place, but oh would he explore it.

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader

Words: If I had to guess I’d say around 2066

Genre: Smut

A/N: Hey guys, I know this is probably not the place, I just wanted to ask you to not be disrespectful towards Wooyoung and his w*eight. Don’t spam him, show love and support, but respect most of all, please have in consideration his situation. This being said, enjoy loves!!

Requests are super open!!

---- THANK YOU ANON FOR THE REQUEST 💖----

  Wooyoung was aware of his many sexual preferences. He wasn't ready to discover a new one in such an inappropriate timing however, the man certainly didn't expect to feel arousal spread through his body when he saw you walk around the restaurant.

  The waitress' work outfit noticeably exposed a little too much, but God yours looked so good on your body. The small, black suit skirt hugged your hips and thighs perfectly, exposing a little more skin than skirts usually would and it was driving Wooyoung crazy.

    He wasn't looking at your ass or gazing at your hips however, his eyes were planted onto your thighs. The lack of a gap between them and the way they jiggled when you walked... Damn he wanted you to strangle him with them.

   When you approached his table he gulped and was forced to peel his eyes off of you.

   "Goodnight, my name is Y/N, I'll be your waiter today." You said as you handed the menus to each person in the table.

   "Perfect." Wooyoung thought and gladly accepted the menu being handed to him.

   He watched your figure intensely and bit his lower lip as you walked away, giving them time to choose. An involuntary tent started forming in Wooyoung's pants.

   He couldn't not look at you, you were such eye candy to him.

   "Wooyoung are you listening to me?"

   The aforementioned snapped out of his trance and looked at his leader, who was sitting by his side, waving his hand in front of his face.

   "Sorry Hongjoong, I was... distracted." Wooyoung smiled and the leader just eyed him awkwardly, but repeated what he had just said anyway.

   Wooyoung pretended to listen, but he couldn't stop thinking of your body and how good it would look without the skirt. Soon after, you came to pick up their orders, and the man had to stop himself from trailing his fingers along your hips and thighs.

   The second after you left, Wooyoung excused himself to "go to the bathroom", approaching the counter instead.

   "Hello," he said to the young man behind the bar "do you happen to know when Miss Y/N's shift ends?"

    The employee was a little confused, but replied nevertheless.

   "In about thirty minutes I believe. It's usually the case..."

   Wooyoung bowed as a way of thanking the man and went back to his seat, longing for those thirty minutes to come to an end.

   He didn't eat much, as he spent every second of those thirty minutes thinking of how to approach you, what to say and how hard he was gonna fuck you.

   Wooyoung didn't want to miss you leaving the building, so he often looked at the exit to see if he could spot you leaving.

   It was way past those thirty minutes and Wooyoung's ecstatic face started fading, as he thought he had missed you leaving and his chance was long gone.

   Luck seemed to be on his side however. As he looked up from his dish, he saw you make your way out of the restaurant, now with a pair of jeans that fit your thighs beautifully.

   Wooyoung excused himself, telling his members and manager that he needed to go. He didn't care if he excuse he'd given was believable, Hell, if it was even plausible. All he cared about was having you to himself.

   He followed you outside, and once he caught up to you he tapped on your shoulder. When you turned around he froze. Fuck. What now!?

   Wooyoung had only thought about the end and beginning, he figured that the middle would just come naturally when the time came, but it was certainly backfiring.

   You cocked your head as you waited for the male to talk.

   "I just- I couldn't stop looking at you. God you're gorgeous..."

   You blushed at his comment and looked down at your feet. Wooyoung's cheeks had a faint blush to them and he laughed awkwardly, mentally slapping himself for not fucking thinking of something appropriate to say.

    "I take it you were the guy that asked my colleague when my shift was over?"

    "Maybe?" Wooyoung replied, a little taken aback that the man had ratted him out.

   You laughed faintly at the man's reaction.

   "Well stranger, if this encounter hadn't been at 10 PM in an empty parking lot it would have been a really sweet but..." You looked around at the creepy scenario and Wooyoung understood what you meant.

    The man looked down at his feet for a second and then up at you with a shy smile.

    "I'm just hoping you're not too tired from work and would join me for a drink?" Wooyoung shamelessly invited.

    You opened your mouth, unsure of what to reply yet, but eventually just smiled and nodded.

     "Sure, let me just pop these in my car." You told him, holding up your work uniform.

    Once you were set, the both of you walked to a nearby bar, keeping a light conversation between you.

    Upon arrival, you two took a seat in one of the booths with red, round cushioned sofas around the table.

     "So, are you going to make me call you stranger the whole night?" You asked as you took a sip of your gin.

    Wooyoung hung his head low and chuckled before looking at you again.

     "I'm sorry, my name is Wooyoung."

     "Cute name." You commented, bringing your drink up to your lips again.

     Wooyoung took a big sip of his black vodka and sprite long drink before speaking once more.

     "Matches me, right?"

     You nearly choked at the sudden boldness. Once the large glass was secure on the table you slapped your thigh as you laughed at the comment.

     Little did you know, Wooyoung had followed every move your hand had made, and he wished so, so bad that it was his.

    After a couple more drinks and some more chattering, Wooyoung stopped being as discrete, and his eyes were glued to your lower body.

    You placed a hand in his forearm.

    "Wooyoung, do my thighs amuse you?"

    Had he been sober, he'd stumble on his words and make a mess out of the situation, but he was a little past tipsy and the cockiness in him was coming out. He smirked and kissed the spot under your ear.

    "Very much so, Y/N..." He whispered, then proceeding to bite your earlobe.

     Although your eyes fluttered a little at the pleasurable contact, you still placed your hand on his chest and pushed him away lightly.

     "Easy there loverboy." You cautioned, wearing a sly smirk on your face.

    Wooyoung chuckled and examined your face for a second as he licked his lips.

    "Your thighs look so good though... I just can’t get enough."

    His hand placed on your knee, slowly trailing up your leg, and stopping mid-thigh. He waited, in case you wanted to remove his hand, but you kept it there, so he gave your thigh a light squeeze and it felt like Heaven to him. Wooyoung followed it with a harsher squeeze and kissed your jaw, then your neck.

     "I want to make you feel so good Y/N..." He whispered in your ear once more.

     Your head tilted slightly, giving him all the access he wanted to your neck.

     "I just met you Wooyoung..."

    Your words came out pathetically almost like a moan.

    Wooyoung grabbed your chin and made you look at him. He approached his face to yours, lips brushing against each other. You looked at his lustful eyes through your lashes and sighed.

    "Fuck it." You said, before clashing your lips against his.

    It was rough right from the start, as both of your tongues fought for dominance in a fight where you'd both end up winning. You could taste the alcohol in the kiss and every second that passed you got more and more drunk in the feeling of having him all over you.

     His hands predictably caressed your thighs while yours held his nape.

     Once you pulled away for air, you could see in each other's expressions that you wanted more, you needed more.

     Probably not the wisest choice, but you dragged the man over to your flat without much thought. The walk there was filled with sexual tension. Wooyoung couldn't keep his hands off of you, and you were getting needier at each step.

    Upon arriving at your home, you grabbed Wooyoungs wrist and dragged him to your bedroom. The both of you hurriedly stripped from your shirts and connected your lips in a desperate kiss. Wooyoung's hips rocked against yours, and you moaned into the kiss. His fingers played with the hook of your bra for a second, before managing to unhook it and peel it off of you.

     You undid each other's pants and kicked it off of yourselves the best you could in your drunken state, never breaking the kiss as you were enjoying it far too much.

    When Wooyoung finally broke the kiss, his lips attacked your neck, biting harshly some spots that would certainly turn purple later on. He then pulled away, grabbed your hips, and pushed you against the wall, chest colliding with the cold surface. You hissed at the sudden contact with the gelid wall.

  Wooyoung knelt behind you and pulled down your underwear, taking his time to admire the way you looked. He gave your ass a harsh squeeze followed by your thighs. The man then grabbed them and spread them a little wider, so he could access you better, but just enough so he'd have your thighs hugging his face as he ate you out.

   He started by leaving a few bites on your inner thighs, then kisses around your folds before he spat on your core, dipped his head between your legs and started exploring your pussy with his tongue.

   You were a moaning mess under his touch, but you didn't mind, cause damn the boy was good.

   He pulled away and spat on your womanhood once more before standing up and turning you around.

   "Ride me baby..." He asked of you, as he caressed your cheek and looked deep into your eyes.

   You just nodded and let him guide you onto the bed, where he laid down.

    You grabbed the hem of his underwear and pulled it down, slowly revealing his very hardened member.

    Before letting him enter you, you grabbed his dick and swirled your tongue around the tip.

   "Spit on it," Wooyoung demanded.

   "Huh?" You asked as if you hadn't heard well.

    "You heard me baby, spit on my cock."

     The dirty words made you feel a certain tingle in the pit of your stomach and you complied. You let the spit fall from your lips and onto his member as he watched carefully. His head rolled back and he hissed.

    You stroked him a couple of times before taking him onto your mouth and bobbing your head up and down. You barely lasted any time there, as Wooyoung begged you to ride him once more.

    You left the position you were in and hovered your womanhood over his dick. You helped him find your entrance, and, once he did find it, he jerked his hips up, and at the same time you pushed yourself down on him and you saw stars.

    He grabbed onto your hips as you bounced on him, and his eyes never left your hips, that jiggled every time your skin made contact with his.

   "My God Wooyoung you're so good..." You moaned.

   You threw your head back and his grip on you grew tighter. The room had a pleasant perfume of alcohol and sex, just what you two loved.

   He gave your ass a couple spanks while you bounced on his dick, and when he jerked his hips a little higher you plopped yourself down on him and clenched your thighs around his waist as you came. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you moaned loudly.

  Wooyoung removed you from him hurriedly, as the pressure from your thighs around his waist almost sent him over the edge. You grabbed his dick and pumped it a few times, before both of your bodies were decorated with warm spurts of cum.

   Neither of you said, thought about or did anything else, since you were both too tired and too drunk. You just plopped down next to the man, who wrapped his left arm around your waist, and fell asleep on his chest.

[octannibal-blake]

for the post break-up au. with bellamy definitely bringing clarke the food: i know you can’t cook for shit so i’ve been bringing you dinner every night, just, y’know, to keep you alive

Thanks for the prompt! This was fun to write and honestly, I almost got carried away with it but alas, I had to make it manageable. I hope you like it, friend! 

want one? send me a prompt from this list and i’ll write you a fic.

_______________________________________________________________

(ao3)

“Are ice cream sandwiches a food group?” Bellamy is frowning at her from the front door, eyeing the wrappers currently scattered across her coffee table.

She answers him with a glare while taking the last bite of the delicious treat. Okay, so it might be her third one today. And maybe it’s all she’s eaten over the last couple of days, but she deserves it. After all, she’s going through some shit and coping has never been her best skill.

He sighs and collapses onto the couch next to her. She tries not to look at him. She can feel his eyes on her, watching her like she might melt into a puddle of tears and ice cream at any moment. All of her friends have been looking at her like that, pity and uncertainty. She’s come to expect it, although she’s surprised to see it come from him. They hate each other, he should be happy to see her so miserable.

“What do you want, Bellamy?” she grumbles out, not even bothering to pause the current romantic comedy playing on her Netflix account. She’s been slowly cycling her way through the category and this one isn’t terrible. A little cheesy, but not unbearable.

“Just coming to check on you, Princess,” he throws his feet onto the table and leans back, making himself comfortable.  

“Come to check on me or come to gloat?” The second seems more plausible. Ever since they met four years ago, it’s been nothing but hostile arguments and biting remarks. She can’t stand him, but tolerates him mostly for Octavia’s sake. It’s her best friend and even though he’s a complete jackass, she knows how much Octavia loves him. But there’s really no other reason for him to be here other than to rub it in her face that her girlfriend broke up with her and moved out of the country. She can practically hear him now, wow, you’re so terrible not only did she leave you but she couldn’t stand being in the same country as you!

“I can be a jackass sometimes but I’m not heartless,” he defends and she swears she actually detects a hint of sincerity in his voice. Enough to make her turn and look at him and she notices his eyes don’t hold the typical malice they normally do. No, they’re actually…well, she doesn’t exactly know but she’s never seen it before. Not even during their more intimate moments.

She turns her attention back to the television. Even if he were being nice, it doesn’t make up for the years of constant harassment. From the moment they met it’s been nothing but endless, pointless arguments about everything from how to tie shoes to the deepest questions of the universe. It got so bad at one point, Octavia refused to go in public with both of them at the same time. Raven once told her it was built up sexual tension because they are both very attractive individuals who somehow get off by arguing with each other. Clarke vehemently denied it because clearly, he is just an insufferable douche and she, as he so eloquently called her once, is a spoiled brat.

Things have a natural way of biting her in the ass, though. Not two weeks after the conversation with Raven (which was about two years of mutual loathing at that point) she and Bellamy found themselves tangled up in each other as so predicted by her friend. She’d be lying if she said the sex wasn’t amazing. It definitely was, but even after a drunken night of amazing sex, they still couldn’t talk for more than five minutes before it turned into another argument. Hypothesis, null. They hooked up a couple of more times (she was in a dry spell and really had no desire to go home with strangers) and everything stayed pretty normal. Until it wasn’t.

She met Lexa at one of her mother’s gala’s. On the fast track to becoming the next great surgeon, she of course attended the gala to network and meet other great surgeons. It was all a little overwhelming for Clarke, but they met and hit it off. She had thought their relationship was great, they were in love and talking about moving in together. Then, two weeks ago, it all changed. Lexa came over and without any warning, broke things off. She got the opportunity to study abroad in England and had to take it. She didn’t want to put their relationship under the strain of long distance and just…ended it. It didn’t really register at first. She went to work and came home. She went out with her friends and shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Then she got her dream job, being a curator at the MFA, and she pulled out her phone to call her. Then she remembered and it’s been downhill since then.

Feeling the familiar sting behind her eyes, she stands up from the couch, “Want ice cream?”

Bellamy pulls his feet from the table, small flecks of dirt falling onto it. Normally, this would lead to a fight (and maybe that’s what he was hoping for) but right now, she just didn’t feel like it. She shuffles to the freezer and grabs the box of sandwiches. Only two left. Resigning herself to her own pity, she grabs them both and tosses the box onto the counter (she’ll get it later, okay).

“No,” Bellamy is beside her before she can even blink, yanking the small items from her hands and throwing them back into the freezer, “You have to eat a meal, Clarke.”

She crosses her arms and huffs (she’s five), “I’m a grown ass woman, I can eat whatever I want.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, “Why don’t you act like it!”

She feels the familiar flare of frustration and irritation in her chest at his condescending tone and bites back, “I can do whatever I want, so you can stop trying to fucking mother me.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you would fucking take care of yourself!” they’re yelling again and it feels almost normal. The way things were before Lexa. Before the break up. It’s still all so new, though, and right now normal doesn’t feel right. Not yet, at least.

“Whatever.” She hates how defeated she sounds.

“Seriously?” he almost seems disappointed in her, like he expected a lot more fight.

She throws her hands in the air, the crack in her voice giving away the emotion she had been determined not to feel, “Why did you come here, Bellamy? To question my diet and try to pick a fight with me? Great, you did. Now, you can go.”

Fuck emotions. Fuck these stupid tears. She doesn’t cry, especially not in front of people. She wipes furiously at her eyes and puts as much distance between them as she can. Unfortunately, her apartment is small and walking to the other side of the kitchen doesn’t do much. He takes a few steps and he’s right back in front of her. Too close. Too personal.

“Look,” his voice is much gentler now and she sees his hand twitch like he wants to wipe the tears away for her but thinks better of it,  “I’m here because everyone’s worried about you. I’m worried about you.”

That catches her off guard. Bellamy Blake is worried about her.

“Octavia said you haven’t been eating,” he continues and before she can argue, he cuts her off, “Those don’t count.”

“Ice cream definitely counts,” she argues half-heartedly, but even that sounds pathetic. So maybe it’s not the best diet but going to the grocery seems like an impossible feat and she’s always been a terrible cook.

He rolls his eyes at her, clearly unfazed by her less than stellar comeback, “I’m ordering Thai.”

“Good for you,” she growls but doesn’t protest. An hour later, she’s next to him on the couch devouring her curry puffs and watching history documentaries, her slight breakdown forgotten. She knows he wants to ask her about it, but somehow he knows better. He knows her pretty well, actually. Things don’t feel okay. But they don’t feel bad either.

And that’s how it starts.

*

Suddenly her worst enemy is a constant presence in her life. She chalks it up to his incessant need to parent everyone. He makes sure everyone makes it home from the bar, fixes peoples cars, appliances, and apparently, hearts. Oh, and he also feeds you if you’re too incompetent to cook (which she is). At first she thought it was just a fluke, that maybe he just did a favor for Octavia and would leave it alone after that. Yet, every night he shows up at her door with a bag of homemade meals in his hand for her. She feels like she’s in some parallel universe, one in which her and Bellamy are, dare she say, friends. They eat dinner together but more than that they actually have civilized conversations. Some nights they just turn on Netflix and watch history documentaries, mostly to repay him for keeping her satiated. Other nights they talk for hours about anything and everything, ranging from his sister to past memories to all their hopes and dreams.

“I start work next week,” she tells him one night after finishing her last bite of lasagna. Bellamy made it himself, so he claims (though, she swears it’s a Stoffers). She lays her tupperware on the coffee table and leans back with a satisfied sigh.

“You nervous?” he’s still working on his food, sucking a noodle obnoxiously through his lips. Disgusting.

“Kind of,” she pays his gross eating habits no mind, “But happy more than anything. These last few weeks have been, uh, unproductive to say the least.”

She hadn’t meant to lounge around her apartment during her time off. She had quit her old job early so she could prepare for the new one, thinking that maybe her and Lexa could take a short vacation. That, obviously, was a poor choice and instead of laying out on a beach somewhere, she laid out on her couch in the same pajamas.

He’s quiet for a moment, finishing the last of his food before moving to grab the dishes. He scoops her container up and adds them to the dishwasher. After a moment of quiet frustration at the piece of junk, it rumbles to life.

“It’ll be good for you,” he says rejoining her and adjusting his feet on the table, this time bare of any mud tracking shoes, “Being busy and stuff.”

IT’s true. The worst part of all of this has been being to stationary. Anytime something big happens in her life, her go to coping method is to throw herself into her work. When her dad died, it was school. When her and her mom had a falling out, it was Lexa. Now she’s stuck with nothing specific to keep her busy and because of that, this breakup has been a lot harder. She’s had to face her feelings and really, truly feel everything about it.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, falling deep into her thoughts. He seems to notice because he nudges her with his elbow and watches her with concern (there’s that damn concern again).

“I know you don’t like to talk about feelings and shit,” he describes her perfectly, “But if you ever do, I’m here.”

She feels a twinge of gratitude for him in that moment. Of all the people to be here for her, to reach out, it’s him. She never would have seen this coming, especially after their brief ‘enemies with benefits’ thing.

“Thanks, Bell.”

He doesn’t push it. They watch their documentary and he leaves. This time she gives him a thankful squeeze on the shoulder as he goes. He gives her a smile.

*

She takes him up on that offer hardly a week later. He’s standing in her kitchen, cooking something that smells amazing for dinner. She’s just finished her first week of work and had been feeling really good about things. She had breakfast with Raven this morning and they caught up on all things gossip and Raven’s new love interest. Though, Raven doesn’t believe in love so she refuses to acknowledge it.

“He’s hot and I’m hot,” she said nonchalantly, “We’re supposed to bang and that’s it.”

The weather was nice today, sunny and mild despite it being the end of July. Her mood is high, really and truly high, but of course something always has to ruin it.

“Oh fuck you,” she blurts out suddenly. She has her phone in her hand, casually scrolling through instagram and waiting for her food.

“Tried that once,” Bellamy answers without hesitation, thinking she had been talking to him.

She wished she were. Instead she’s staring at her phone, feeling a myriad of emotions overcome her. He seems to notice her lack of response and immediately walks over to the couch to check on her.

“Clarke?”

She hadn’t even realized that tears had begun to well in her eyes until one drops onto her chin.

“It’s not fair,” suddenly everything is too much and she tosses her phone onto the floor (it’s carpet, thankfully), “I’m the one who gets screwed over and she gets everything she ever wanted.”

He catches on then, realizing who triggered her emotional outburst. He regards her carefully, deciding maybe it’s best to stay silent. She fills it.

“I did everything she ever wanted me to. I sacrificed everything for her. My friends. My mom. My job. All of it. And when she wanted something she never even thought about my feelings. She just did it.”

She’s upset. She’s pissed. She’s annoyed. She’s…everything. She loved Lexa, truly, but looking at her now (posting about being in Europe and loving her life) it’s like everything was one sided. When Lexa wanted to hang out, Clarke would drop everything for her. She would ditch her friends. She would call into work. It all seems pretty bad, in retrospect, like Clarke was always just a temporary stop for her while Clarke had been head over heels.

“Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she continues, speaking her thoughts aloud, “That’s part of what attracted me to her, her fierce independence and how adventurous she is. I should have known it would never last. We wanted different things. I wasn’t enough to make her stay.”

“Hey,” he places a hand on her arm, begging her to look at him. When she does, she can tell he isn’t judging her or even pitying her, he’s just…supporting her, “Lexa has a lot of good qualities. But if she didn’t see how amazing you are, that’s her fault and not yours.”

She chuckles a bit at the sentiment. It’s hard to believe that Lexa would have any faults but she knows he’s right. Maybe they just weren’t meant for something great and that’s okay. She’ll be okay.

“I never thought I would be this girl,” she admits to him sadly, hating how vulnerable she’s been over the last few weeks. She’s supposed to be tough. Level headed. Not a tearful mess.

“You’re not invincible, Clarke. I know you like to pretend you don’t have feelings but it’s okay to have them.”

She sniffles for good measure and he laughs, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody you have actual emotions.”

SHe punches his arm playfully and he feigns hurt. Just like that she feels lighter somehow. She feels like she’s mending.

*

She makes it out to the bar exactly two months after the big break up. Everyone is there because of course Octavia wanted to make this a momentous occasion. Celebrating the return of Clarke or some shit. She feels lighter today, having settled into her new job and finding that she really has a knack for curating. Bellamy is at her place close to every day of the week, still cooking for her and hanging out. SHe gave him a key to her place not long after she started working. He’s on break from teaching for summer and mentioned having issues with his roommate. He spent a lot of time there anyway so she figured she might as well.

“It’s so I can have a hot dinner waiting on me when I get home,” she told him with batting eyes and a sickly sweet smile.

Life is going well and being here with all of them isn’t overwhelming like it might have been a month or two ago. She feels happy.

Bellamy is next to her and offers her a shot of whiskey and clinking his own with hers. She grins and takes it gratefully, loving the way it burns her throat as it goes down. She dances with Raven and Octavia, until the younger Blake is hauled away by her boyfriend for a quick make out session. Bellamy promptly makes obnoxious gagging noises at the sight.  

“She’s in love,” she smacks him on the arm, “Leave her alone!”

The night feels like they used to. Everyone talking and dancing and laughing with each other. Even Murphy showed up for her welcome back AND bought her a drink. That alone makes her want to tear up. At some point she ends up alone with Octavia, Lincoln having detached himself from her hip to grab drinks at the bar. They sit across from each other and finally Octavia decides to pounce.

“What’s going on with you and my brother?” Leave it to Octavia to never beat around the bush.

“What do  you mean?” Clarke knows exactly what she means. It’s not like it’s completely normal for Bellamy to a)  be nice to her and b) have a fucking key to her place. She can admit, it looks a little suspect.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she mocks, “Maybe how nice you all are being to each other. Last time we were all together I had to ban you two from being in the same bar!”

Clarke laughs at that and shrugs, “I just got tired of fighting, O.”

Octavia isn’t buying it. She crosses her arms and kinks one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows, “Sure.”

She sighs and glances over to the bar where Bellamy has just become engaged in one of his intense stories. He’s talking to Miller and Murphy, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“We understand each other more now,” she’s trying to be vague as possible. No one wants to admit that their former rival actually saved their life. Okay, maybe that’s dramatic, but her nutrition would be seriously lacking if it weren’t for him. And he had been extremely supportive in her break up, something most of her other friends can’t say. She can’t blame them for that. She didn’t reach out to anyone. Bellamy just happened to force his way in with food.

“Whatever the fuck that means,” Octavia sighs in defeat, realizing she might just have to torture the information from her brother herself, “I’m just glad we can all be here together without you all embarrassing us.”

The rest of the night is relatively calm and by the early morning, she definitely feels the weight of all the drinks people bought her. Their goal had been to get her drunk and they absolutely succeeded. Bellamy offers to get her home safely and she accepts without a second thought. As they say goodbye to everyone, she notices Octavia watching her with a knowing eye. She chooses to ignore it.

*

“My sister seems to think there’s something going on with us,” Bellamy says bluntly as they enter the apartment. She’s feeling pretty light headed. Her tolerance has severely gone to shit and she had more drinks than anticipated.

“I know,” she replies, kicking off her shoes and flopping onto the couch with a loud huff, “She cornered me at the pub.”

“What did you tell her?” he’s currently digging through her fridge, no doubt looking for food. He’s always been the kind of guy to get the munchies after he drinks.

“I just told her we came to an understanding.”

He hums in response and joins her on the couch, handing her a bottle of water and chugging from his own. He wipes his mouth and turns to her, “I bet she loved that.”

She laughs, remembering Octavia’s look of pure annoyance, “You know she can’t stand not knowing things.”

“That definitely explains why she was asking me twenty questions.”

“Oh no,” she giggles. Fucking giggles.

“Oh yeah,” he says with a fond smile, “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I hope you don’t mind, but I told her I was keeping you alive.”

“Keeping me alive?” it doesn’t process at first.

“Face it, you’d be dead without my food,” he jokes and she can’t help but think of how true it is. SHe’d been on a diet of both not eating and eating junk. It definitely wasn’t healthy. He really did step in when she needed it most.

“I never did say thank you, did I?” she asks seriously and he shrugs.

“You don’t have to. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

And she is. Okay, that is. Spending time with him has made the healing process a lot easier than it would have been. Sure, he fed her because she is apparently incapable of doing that herself, but more than that he was her support system. He listened to her talk about nothing and handed her kleenexes while she cried.. All without judgement. He rubbed her feet on days her job had her running everywhere in an uncomfortable pair of flats. He never once made her feel like she was overreacting or pathetic. He…Shit.

“You’re a really good person,” she tells him finally, “I mean, like the best kind of person.”

He laughs again, deep and sincere. Her stomach flips at the sound and now she realizes she’s on a very dangerous path. But to be honest, she doesn’t care.

“We should go out to dinner sometime,” it’s a stupid thing to say. Is she asking him on a date? Is she even ready for that? She’s an idiot. She closes her eyes to think for a moment and hates that even the deepest part of her mind she realizes she actually means it. She would like to go out with him sometime. Maybe not anytime in the near future, but when she feels totally and completely ready, she’d like to try it. She’s seen the best parts of him and the worst and still really likes him. Surprise.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he says gently and she realizes she’s starting to doze off. Before she can fully get her bearings, he scoops her up into his arms and walks her to her room. Normally she’d fight it, but she’s pretty damn tired and a little buzzed (also, it feels kind of nice having him carry her to bed). He lays her down gently and pulls the cover over her. It’s an intimate gesture but she’s okay with it.

“I meant it,” she says as he starts to move toward the door, “I’m not ready yet. But I will be and I’d really like to take you out to dinner.”

His answer is almost so quiet she can barely hear it, “I’m ready whenever you are. But you’re buying.”

“Deal,” she breathes and begins to drift off with a smile on her face. The last thing she remembers is the feel of his lips on her forehead.

It’s funny how a little food can mend a broken heart. Yeah, just the food.