lackadaisicalnereid (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lackadaisicalnereid) wrote2014-07-24 04:48 pm
lackadaisicalnereid) wrote2014-07-24 04:48 pm
fic: to take a little (raven/bellamy)
to take a little | the 100 | raven(/bellamy, /finn) | ~430 words. Sometimes, she's exactly the kind of girl she likes to think she hates. this is all Marta's fault somehow, i'm positive.
Sometimes, she's exactly the kind of girl she likes to think she hates. It's usually in those moments when she's lying alone in her tent and it's been a long day (when isn't it these days) and she thinks something like Finn'll come back to me one day and her ribcage seems to tighten around her heart and she's pretty sure she would hate herself for this if she had the energy to spare.
She doesn't. So she wipes away the tears from her face and instead of dealing with something, anything, she does the next best thing - she goes to Bellamy. It's dark outside and most of the hundred seem asleep, at least all of those between her tent and his do, and those are the ones that matter now.
She's half sure he's expecting her, because she thinks he knows her a bit. Not all of her and not the important bits, nothing like that. But still, there's an odd sort of comfort in thinking she's expected here. Makes it feel a bit more like going home, even if it's really not.
She used to think Finn loved her. In a real, forever, marriage and one kid, til death do us part sort of way. Turns out she'd make a lousy fortune teller.
So she makes sure Bellamy doesn't. Love her. Whenever he looks like he's about to say something, she kisses him to stop him. When he looks confused about her, she fucks him, and when he looks at her like he might want to kiss her, she leaves him. It's as simple as that, really. Him being simple is one of her favorite things about Bellamy. It allows her to go about her business the way she wants to, without having to know him, understand him. With him, she doesn't have to think about what he thinks of her or doesn't and if he'll like it better if she moves her hips a little to the right, because it doesn't matter. Because he'll fuck her and he'll like it and it'll be as if it never happened the second she climbs off of him. And if who she really wishes was under her is Finn, well, not that it would matter to Bellamy, wouldn't it? She needs him to be a body, to be firm and unrelenting and present, and if she needs to be those things, well, you have to give a little to get a little.
Her mother would've taught her that, she thinks, if she had taught her anything at all.
She doesn't know if he's expecting her, and she doesn't care much if she's being honest.
She still waits, stands in front of his tent for a few beats of her heart, for some signal that she shouldn't go in.
The signal never comes.
Sometimes, she's exactly the kind of girl she likes to think she hates. It's usually in those moments when she's lying alone in her tent and it's been a long day (when isn't it these days) and she thinks something like Finn'll come back to me one day and her ribcage seems to tighten around her heart and she's pretty sure she would hate herself for this if she had the energy to spare.
She doesn't. So she wipes away the tears from her face and instead of dealing with something, anything, she does the next best thing - she goes to Bellamy. It's dark outside and most of the hundred seem asleep, at least all of those between her tent and his do, and those are the ones that matter now.
She's half sure he's expecting her, because she thinks he knows her a bit. Not all of her and not the important bits, nothing like that. But still, there's an odd sort of comfort in thinking she's expected here. Makes it feel a bit more like going home, even if it's really not.
She used to think Finn loved her. In a real, forever, marriage and one kid, til death do us part sort of way. Turns out she'd make a lousy fortune teller.
So she makes sure Bellamy doesn't. Love her. Whenever he looks like he's about to say something, she kisses him to stop him. When he looks confused about her, she fucks him, and when he looks at her like he might want to kiss her, she leaves him. It's as simple as that, really. Him being simple is one of her favorite things about Bellamy. It allows her to go about her business the way she wants to, without having to know him, understand him. With him, she doesn't have to think about what he thinks of her or doesn't and if he'll like it better if she moves her hips a little to the right, because it doesn't matter. Because he'll fuck her and he'll like it and it'll be as if it never happened the second she climbs off of him. And if who she really wishes was under her is Finn, well, not that it would matter to Bellamy, wouldn't it? She needs him to be a body, to be firm and unrelenting and present, and if she needs to be those things, well, you have to give a little to get a little.
Her mother would've taught her that, she thinks, if she had taught her anything at all.
She doesn't know if he's expecting her, and she doesn't care much if she's being honest.
She still waits, stands in front of his tent for a few beats of her heart, for some signal that she shouldn't go in.
The signal never comes.