#w peach at least she believes with all of her heart that they WILL win | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jamilelucato · 4 years

Text

Satisfied [F. W.]

Summary: y/N Bilmes is the daughter of the owner of the Zonko’s Joke Shop, Bilton Bilmes, and, in her sister’s wedding day, she remembers a night with Fred Weasley when she learned she would never be satisfied.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Bilmes!reader (platonic)

Musical Hogwarts Series || Harry Potter Masterlist

A/N: it’s angsty because this song is angst! But I hope you all like it! It has an open end, where you can interpret it as you see fit. PS: gif is not mine so I have no idea if that’s really James (Fred) or Oliver lol. PS 2: Bilton Bilmes is the guy who works at Zonko’s when you play the app Hogwarts Mystery and my quick research told me that Bilmes might be the owner now, who knows.

Based on the song Satisfied from the musical Hamilton (no need to like the song to read/understand the fic!)

“Alright, alright. That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Now, everyone, give it up for the maid of honour: y/N Bilmes!”

Lee Jordan’s voice echoed through the ballroom, accompanied by clapping. You stood up, wiping your hands on the skirt of the blue dress, chosen by your sister.

It was a beautiful model, with a slightly rounded skirt. The blue subtly highlighted your skin tone, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the colour you would’ve chosen.

Taking your wand out of your pocket, you marched to the small arranged stage and subtly cleared your throat.

“A toast to the groom!” you exclaimed, as soon as you chose a place to stand. You were in front of your sister, who had one of the most beautiful smiles on her face. You were avoiding looking at the groom, though.

The crowd of guests — your sister could not limit herself to inviting only the most intimate — echoed your words, raising her glasses of champagne. “To the groom!”

“To the bride!” you continued.

“To the bride!” mimicked the crowd.

“From your sister, who is always by your side,” you allowed yourself to smile while keeping your eyes fixed on your sister. “To your union!”

“To the revolution!” added some guests.

You shook your head, pretending not to mind the interruption of the guests.

“And the hope that you provide!” unconsciously, you brought the tip of your wand closer to your neck and the sensation was uncomfortable, but you kept smiling.

It was a beautiful scene, after all.

Your youngest and only sister was getting married. And she was a beautiful bride...

“May you always...” you couldn’t avoid the groom any longer, “...be satisfied.”

The groom you were avoiding looking at was none other than Fred Weasley. And he was the love of your life. But the love of his life, unfortunately, was your sister.

He was beautiful that night. He had combed his red hair back and was probably using hair gel. His black suit clutched in the right places, enhancing the muscles earned in puberty.

In that light of the ballroom, his appearance reminded you of a night not long before this one...

You remember that night, and you just might regret that night for the rest of your days. You remember those soldier boys, believing they were the kings of the world just because they battled in the Battle Of Hogwarts. They were tripping over themselves to win the praise of the girls.

Hogwarts had been just reconstructed, but it looked as beautiful as ever. Generally, you and your sister avoided attending these types of social gala events, but as your own father said: the occasion was worth it.

The new Great Hall was decorated with dreamlike candles, like a dream that you can’t quite place.

You could have been distracted by the setting for hours and hours. Of course, that would have been if Fred Weasley hadn’t come in the front door as if he owned the space.

Fred, I’ll never forget the first time I saw your face, you thought.

Since that night, you have never been the same. He had intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame. He was saying hi to everyone, smiling brightly. Apparently, everyone knew who he was. You weren’t familiar with him, however.

When he walked towards you and said “Hi,” you forgot your social manners. It was rather embarrassing.

He chuckled at your blushed cheeks.

You weren’t used to talking to guys, but he had set your heart aflame, every part.

“Dance with me,” he asked, noticing the songs had changed.

Hesitantly, it took you a second to regain your courage and accept the hand he held out to you. The band played a song with an unromantic but slow-paced lyrics, so several other couples were clinging to each other on the improvised dance floor.

Fred was a gentleman, holding you close to him, but with an impressive delicacy. You didn’t have much experience with men, but you knew from your friends’ stories in France that they could be quite inconvenient.

The dress you were wearing was a red a shade darker than the boy’s hair, which made it look like you two matched even more. He wore a two-piece suit with an orange shirt, but the suit was slightly greenish.

He didn’t try any risky dance moves, he just swung you from side to side, and you were grateful for that. He had a worse effect on you than drinking a whole bottle of alcohol, and if he tried a more difficult dance than that, you were sure it would be shameful.

“You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied,” he whispered, close to your left ear.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You forget yourself,” his commented made you feel offended for a split second, so you leaned away from Fred a bit.

“You’re like me,” he said, in sweeter tone.“I’m never satisfied”

He was trying to show you that being satisfied was not a bad thing. It meant you always wanted more. And he could be right about that.

“Is that right?” you tried to sound as charming as you could, using all of the flirting tactics that your Beauxbatons friends taught you.

“I have never been satisfied,” he sighed, not in a tired way, but in an enchanting way like he was playing the same game as you.

The song, unfortunately, was over and the band drastically changed the tune to something more agitated. Some couples left the dance floor, but you and the red-haired boy stayed there, only letting go of each other but remaining very close.

You decided it was time to present yourself. “My name is y/N Bilmes.”

“Fred Weasley,” he informed smirking.

“Weasley?” you repeated. The name seemed familiar.

“Yeah, but don’t let it fool you. There are a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait,” he shrugged, nervously, and offered to get yourselves a drink which you accepted.

While he was gone, somethings started to click in your mind. Your eyes wandered the room, looking for your sister. Would she like to know that you finally found someone at your level?

Fred made you feel the feeling of freedom, of seein’ the light in just a couple of minutes, perhaps a bit more. Every word said was in total agreement; he seemed to know more about you than you did yourself.

But then, you asked about his family, and his answer wasn’t promising. His hands started fidgeting, he looked askance — but his words were just trying to distract you. An attempt of making you forget who the Weasleys were, but with him away from you, the information appeared. The Weasleys were penniless, and a big, huge family.

But he is so handsome! Yeah, there was a peach fuzz that he can’t even grow, but somehow, that didn’t erase his charm. You wanted him. You desired him.

Maybe he could be yours, at least for the night. Your French friends did it all the time... Sure, you were bound to catch feelings, but he could catch them too, right?

Then you turned and saw your sister’s face, and she was helpless. She was following Fred with her eyes, and you needed no more signs of how she was feeling. Probably because you were feeling the same.

You realized three fundamental truths at the exact same time…

Fred came to you, giving you the second drink in his hands, but you barely grabbed before reaching for his arm and making him walk.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked after sipping his drink.

“I’m about to change your life,” you forced yourself to smile when he stared at you.

“Then, by all means, lead the way,” he smiled back.

The first thing you realized: You were a girl in a world in which your job was to marry rich. Not that your father would be mad if you didn’t, but the family had a significant debt that no one knew about, and it was you the one suppose to pay it.

You were the oldest and the wittiest, and the gossip in the Wizarding World was insidious, and Fred was penniless. As a Weasley, anyway, he had to be very much poor...

Perhaps he was rising... Wasn’t he one of the owners of that Joke Shop in Diagon Alley that your father was bothered about?

Ha! That doesn’t mean I want him any less, you thought.

You had approached your sister, who exchanged looks from you to the handsome boy. You raised your brows and tilted your head, wanting to say: present yourself.

She gulped before offering him her hand. “Elizabeth Bilmes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Fred handed you his glass as he grabbed her hand with both of his.

“Bilmes?”

“My sister,” you explained, but he still seemed confused.

“No, it’s just... the name sounds familiar.”

“Oh! Our father owns the Zonkos’s Joke Shop!” exclaimed Eliza, happy to help. “Perhaps you know him.”

Fred turned his face to you. “Why didn’t you mention?” he asked, but he wasn’t mad — he was excited.

There was the second thing you realized:

He’s after you because you’re a Bilmes heir, which would elevate his status— you’d have to be naïve to set that aside.

Maybe that is why you introduce him to Eliza, and, now, that’s his bride.

Nice going, y/N, he was right — you will never be satisfied.

Eliza was smart enough to continue the conversation while you were spacing out. “Thank you for all your service.”

It was well-known that the Weasleys played a significant part in the Battle, primarily because they were Harry Potter’s family.

“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” Fred kissed her hand, but he kept his eyes on hers.

You were about to roll your eyes or vomit — which one was going to happen first you had no idea— so you decided it was time to leave.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

They didn’t even look back at you, so you just turned and walked away. With both Fred’s and your drinks on hand, you drank them fastly, not even caring for the bad taste it left in your mouth.

You couldn’t look back; you couldn’t let your mind wander about the likelihood that your sister and Fred were already kissing.

Eliza has always been more proficient with boys than you, even though she was shy and humbled, her face called attention, and it didn’t take long for a brave boy to court her. Even more different from you, she always accepted.

The third thing you realized that night:

You knew your sister like you know your own mind — you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind. If you told her that you love him, she’d be silently resigned — he’d be yours.

She would say, “I’m fine”, but she’d be lying.

You walked directly towards the bar, getting yourself a couple more drinks. You would need it.

Your father bumped into you, asking what was wrong, but he would never understand. He just couldn’t.

Maybe your mom would, but at the moment, she was back in Paris.

But when you fantasize at night, it’s Fred’s eyes, as you romanticize what might have been if you hadn’t sized him up so quickly.

At least your dear Eliza’s his wife; at least you keep his eyes in your life…

But you knew, as you watched their relationship grow — as you were obliged to listen to your sister ramble to you how gorgeous and romantic Fred was — you knew he would never be satisfied. But so wouldn’t you.

Shaking your head for a what felt like a full minute you were finally able to look way from Fred and so finally able to lock the memory of that night forever in your mind.

Putting the wand back in the dress pocked, you walked down the stage towards the couple’s table, and you let a tear go down. Eliza would think you were moved by the wedding; only you would know the truth.

You could hear claps, but you didn’t care.

“I’ll always be by your side,” you whispered to your sister as you hugged her tight. She cried too, but she was way more emotional than you.

You knew who you had to hug after her.

And he was already up waiting.

“May you always be satisfied,” you whispered to Fred as you hugged him, letting yourself breath his perfume guiltless.

You felt him gulp to your words, but he said nothing and pressed his hands on your waist harder than before.

The door of the ballroom was abruptly open, and every face in the place turned to see who it was. Fred let go of you and smiled when he noticed who was walking.

Eliza seemed to be smiling too, and she rushed to the door, following her groom.

“Who’s that?” you asked the lovely woman sitting down closer to you, but she was also so happy that you thought she wasn’t going to answer.

“Fred’s brother,” she explained to your surprise.

You looked at her table where already five of Fred’s siblings were sat.

“Another?”

The pretty red-haired girl answered after giggling.

“That one is his twin,” she said while you both — and all the guests — watched the touching hug Fred shared with the man walking in. “He left just after the war; he was so traumatized with almost dying and almost losing Fred.”

“He wanted to calm down alone,” added one of the red-haired boys who was seating next to the girl.

“Harry did the same, so the whole family understood George’s point,” finished the girl.

You stared back at Eliza, Fred and Fred’s twin. Eliza did mention Fred had a brother just like him, but you thought she meant like someone with similar personalities, not the same face.

The three walked towards the family table, and all of the red-hairs got up.

“Oh, Georgie!” gasped the elder woman before hugging the tall man.

He hugged everyone, even your parents and he stopped next to you.

Eliza made the introductions.

“George, this is y/N, my sister,” Eliza said, putting a hand on your shoulder while you offered your hand to the man.

George looked down at your hand, but completely ignored and pulled you in a hug, that made you gasp in surprise. He had a tight embrace.

“We’re family now, y/N. Get used to hugs,” he muttered before letting you go.

You smiled, sympathetic. He was as beautiful as his twin, but somehow his eyes were... better.

“She’s like my own twin,” continued Eliza to George who chuckled at the comment. “Sure, we don‘t look alike. But she’s everything to me.”

“Thanks, sis. You’re all to me too.”

The twins laughed at your exchange of love with your sister, and you two pretended to be angry. Then your father asked for the floor, and the whole moment was interrupted.

Someone got George a chair right next to yours, so you were both facing your father, and he kept thanking the boys for buying the Zonko’s and restoring it.

“I knew my best costumers would be my bosses one day,” he said, and the whole place laughed.

It was George who requested to talk after, and he made such a cute speech that even you were moved. It seemed that George was the emotional one from the twins, much like Eliza was the emotional one from you and her.

“And I’m sorry I came a little late,” George continued just before ending. “Forgot the address I had to Apparate.”

As expected, he finished making everyone laugh.

The night went on better than you imagined. There was a moment there when your French friends made you embarrassed, then it was your parents’ opportunity to make you ashamed, but after a couple of drinkings, you were laughing at their dance moves.

All the Weasleys were marvellous, and all of Fred’s brothers danced with you, even the married one — even though the dance you two shared was much more to make everyone laugh at your moderns moves than anything else.

You knew Fleur, his wife, from back at school, so you two talked for a couple of minutes about the time at Beauxbatons.

And you also danced with George, who was a fun guy with a beautiful smile. He talked about his time away from home — how much about himself he learned, like how different from his twin he was.

“But at the end of the day, I missed him more than anything,” he had said, and you could only imagine how hurt that boy must have been to feel like leaving all his friends and family behind.

You laid your head on his shoulder while he moved around you, and the music slowed down. He realized that you were breathing hard.

“What’s it?’ asked George whispering.

“My sister,” you said simply. That was all you could tell.

Your sister was still beautiful, even after sweating on the dance floor, and now she was tied to Fred, just as you clung to George. They suddenly turned, and you looked at Fred, who smiled sadly in your direction.

“She’ll be happy as his bride,” you said to George, taking your head off his shoulder and looking him in the eye.

George seemed to agree, but he said nothing.

“And she’ll be satisfied.”

He then tilted his head, firming his hand on your waist.

“What about you?”

“Huh?” you frowned, confused.

“Are you satisfied?”

You took one last look at Fred over his twin’s shoulder before facing George again. And what seemed unlikely, happened — you smiled, this time, truly happy.

“I’ll never be satisfied.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #george weasley #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #george weasley x reader #satisfied #hamilton au #hamilton #battle of hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #zonkos joke shop #zonkos #bilton bilmes

129 notes · View notes

wreckofawriter · 4 years

Text

Kid

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Reader

Word Count: 3,600

Warnings: None, swearing

Summary: Being the kid of Puddlemore United means that all the team mates see you as one, and in Oliver's case that means the girl he fell in love with does too

A/n: Ok in love this idea, but I'm pretty sure I butchered it. Any way reader is like 22, Oliver is 19 and reader moved from America to play for Puddlemore.

Oliver could feel his heart racing far too fast for comfort. His face was flushed with excitement and nerves. He could see his breath in the air and feel the chilled wind fill his lungs as he puffed in and out.

And then he could see her. The quaffle was stuck under her arm as she ducked around a streak of blue. She was going to make it to him.

His senses heightened a stern look of concentration finding a home on his features. She was close now. But he knew what was going to happen. She had done it twice already. She was much better at shooting right than left. She would make to shoot left, lastsecond changing her course.

So he did the same, jerking left before racing towards the other hoop. He could see you out of the corner of his eye awaiting for his pass.

She did just as predicted. Oliver moved left before speeding to the right hoop hitting the quaffle with his broom towards you. You caught it easily sending him a grateful smile before darting the other way.

Oliver watched you go in amazement, a small smile finding his lips as he watched you dodge the other team with ease. A slight sigh escaped his lips the world around you falling away.

"Wood!" Willams shouted bringing the boys attention back. "Keep your head in the game! We can't afford to lose."

You didn't.

Puddlemore United was now in the Britsh and Irish league finals. Oliver had reached the ground before you and you had flown straight into him tackling him to the ground with a hug.

"Yes Oli!" You shouted as the crowd around you cheered, "You're amazing!"

Oliver's face was set aflame by your touch, his heart beating so quickly he though it might fall from his chest.

"Amazing Kid!" You laughed before standing to go congratulate the others.

The nickname you used stabbed through him like a shard of glass and he felt his heart sink in attempts to avoid it.

He stood up brushing off his uniform and grabbing his broom as he watched you jump on to the back of Benjy with a sharp pain of envy.

"At least their the same age." He mumbled to himself their win suddenly meaning nothing as the overwhelming reality of his desperate love life became obvious.

"You know your only three years apart."

Oliver jumped turning beside him to see Jocelid Wadcock, their seeker, beside him.

The boy scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably attempting to avoid her persistent eye contact, "I'm sorry who are you talking about?"

Jocelid rolled her eyes smiling, "We all know you have a thing for y/l/n."

Oliver felt his face heat up again, "W-what?" He swallowed harshly.

"Please Wood, it's so obvious that the fans even picked up on it, and their denser than bricks."

Oliver dropped his act in sudden fear "Does she know?!" Panic edged from his voice in an uncomfortable wave as the pair slowly made their way back to the changing room.

"No, no, of course not." Jocelid laughed, "Y/n may be one of the smartest girls I've ever known, but she's even more dense than the fans, especially with feelings."

"Thank Merlin." The Keeper breathed out in relief.

"Just tell her soon, she wouldn't believe any of us."

"Ok- wait. What?!"

Jocelid laughed before speeding up and leaving Oliver behind.

"I'm telling you this is a great idea." You huffed, "it's been so long since we've had a break."

"Y/n you know if you go anywhere there are going to be fanboys following you around like lost puppies." Your manager Deverill explained.

"What if we go to a muggle bar?" You questioned hopefully.

The manager sighed. You had been pestering him about a celebration since before you had even won, and you were very prisitant.

"Please?" You widen your eyes, pouting your lips and raising your eyebrows.

Oliver who had been behind Deverill choked on his water at the adorable pout that had taken you visage.

Deverill sighed, "Fine."

You squealed loudly leaping into a hug.

"But."

Your excitement stopped just as quickly as it started.

"Oliver can't drink."

"What?! We could just pretend he's 21, a simple flick of the wand an-"

"Uh-uh." Deverill shook his head, "I can not have the golden boy of our team getting caught drinking under age."

"But-"

"Its okay y/n." Oliver cut in, "I don't need to drink anyway, I've got you to entertain me."

"You sure Oli?" You asked.

"I'm sure." He grinned back encouragingly.

"You're the best Kid." You smiled standing on your toes and ruffling his hair.

Oliver felt his heart clench at the everlasting nickname, casting his eyes downward to avoid your gaze.

You didn't seem to notice, bouncing away to spread the good news.

Oliver was the third to arrive. He didn't know why, but an overwhelming sense of nerves flowed through him like a river through its bed.

The truth was you had never really hung out outside of quidditch related events. No one on the team had. So the idea of just going to a bar with you seemed nerve wracking.

He sat down at a booth already occupied by Willams and Jocelid. He made small talk mostly talking about past matches or upcoming ones. Soon others arrived and Oliver occupied himself by glancing nervously at the door.

Jocelid who was seated beside him glanced at his bouncing leg and bit back a smirk. "You okay Wood?"

"Um what? Oh yeah I'm fine." He lied eyes turning quickly towards the doors as he heard them open.

"Ahhh." Jocelid sighed, "I understand now. Your nervous to see y/n."

"What- I'm- No-" He tried to formulate a sentence, but the words wouldn't fall into place as they normally would. He bit his tongue angrily, pausing before taking a breath and attempting to cool his cheeks which seemed to have been light aflame. "Why does she call me Kid?" He finally managed.

Just then the door swung open and your giggle graced his ears.

Jocelid smiled, "Because you let her." And with that she stood to greet you.

Oliver huffed turning to face you. His breath caught in his throat when his eyes locked with your deep y/e/c eyes.

You were adorned in a simple peach dress who's loose skirt fell just above your knees, a denim jacket on your shoulders as you stood an extra 3 inches off the ground because of your matching wedges.

"Hey Kid!" You yelled across the small room bouncing just as easily over to him in your heeled shoes as you would in sneakers.

Jocelid glanced at him silently begging him to say something.

"H-hey." He stumbled lightly over his words, blushing as you ruffled his hair.

"Look!" You exclaimed, "I don't have to stand on my toes to do this anymore, I should wear these all the time."

Oliver was sure, if you touched his cheeks you would have burnt your finger. His heart was erratic and he couldn't breathe properly. It was like your intoxicating scent had caused him an allergic response.

"Wow Oli, your hair is so soft." You mumbled quietly, completely intrigued by the smooth texture of his brown locks.

Oliver almost fainted, he attempted to open his mouth to thank you but found his lips had been glued shut by some unknown force.

Your eyes dropped from his head to his to his soft brown eyes. Your piercing gaze froze the poor boy and he gasped quietly as if the air had been sucked from his lungs.

Y/e/c started into brown for just a moment too long and Oliver fought the incredible urge to glance down at your lips. He lost. His eyes flicked downwards, a peach lipstick stained your lips, which bore a small smile, they looked so smooth, so soft, so kissable. His mind clouded with thoughts of how they would feel, on his own, how they would feel grazing his skin.

He tore his eyes back upward to meet your own, which seemed to hold a new emotion he was much less accustomed to. He flushed brightly still unable to tear his gaze from yours.

"Partner up people they've got a pool table!" Benjy bellowed from the other room and you both suddenly realized you weren't alone in the world.

You squealed one excitement, suddenly back to your usual hyperactive self. "Awesome! Oli, you can be my partner."

"What the hell is a pool doing in a bar?" He asked, attempting to move on from the moment you had shared as easily as you had seemed to.

"No silly, a pool table." You giggled snatching Oliver's hand and dragging towards a second warmly lit room. "Its a game, you'll like it."

"Oh." He mumbled feeling quite stupid.

Oliver was unsurprisingly amazing at pool. He had never even touch a pool cue before yet once you showed him how to do it. He was unstoppable.

"What the hell Oliver." Adams huffed half impressed half aggravated as the keeper sunk his fourth ball in a row.

You on the other hand, who had worked through three martinez and was working on a fourth, screeched with joy. Jumping from the table you were seated on stumbling.

Oliver cursed dropping his cue and rushing towards you catching you before you hit the ground.

You were unfazed by the close call and instead wrapped your arms around his neck snuggling in as close to him as possible. "Your amazing Kid!" You yelled into his chest.

"This tournament is a bust" Adam's complained, "Wood and America are unstoppable, even when one of them is piss drunk."

"I am not piss drunk!" You exclaimed pushing Oliver away from you as if to prove it. Unfortunately you tripped again swearing, "I'll just take off my shoes." You slurred bending down to do so.

A series of whistles and calls came from the bar as you did so. Oliver gave the men who sat there a confused glance before tracing their eyes which now lay on your half exposed ass.

"Fuck y/n!" He cursed scrambling over to you and turning you around, "How about you sit down on the booth and I'll take off your shoes?" He offered turning his head to glare at the men sitting at the bar.

Some just rolled their eyes, one flipped him off. Oliver's anger strengthened, he lead you over to the booth.

"I can do it Kid." You mumbled.

Oliver felt his hair stand on end as you let the nickname he hated so much slip past your lips. Jocelids words echoed in his head. Because you let her. It's not like he handed youhis nickname along with his heart, they just seemed to go hand and hand, "Its fine it's faster if I do it." He sighed as he slipped off your wedges.

"That's what she said." You giggled.

Oliver smiled softly helping you back to your feet. "You good?" He asked.

"Great." You laughed, bouncing away from him.

"Hey!" Willams yelled excitedly, "What if we had America and Kid play each other?"

There was a chorus of agreements throughout the small room.

"Don't call me that" Oliver huffed.

"Why not U.S over their gets to?" He smirked.

"You see he's not in love with you though." Adams cut in.

"I am not-" he sighed deeply, "Whatever, it's not very fair, y/n's smashed."

"So she's kicking our asses." Jocelid chimed.

"Yeah your not scared of me are you Oli?" You questioned suddenly appearing beside him.

"Alright fine, just don't get mad when it's a short game." He shrugged. Grabbing his cue from the ground and heading to the table.

"I do intend it to be short." You smirked.

"Alright love birds let's stop with the pathetic attempt of trash talk and get to the game." Benjy cut in handing you your cue as Oliver reset the table.

Behind you you could hear arrangement of bets being made, "I need a coffee." You murmured.

"On it." Jocelid spoke, "I've got 20 gallons on you y/n/n I don't intend to lose."

"Twenty!" Oliver shouted from across the table.

"Oh yeah Kid. You haven't seen this girl play yet, she's gonna wipe the floor with you."

"Don't call me-"

"Yeah, yeah I know." She scoffed before darting out the door.

"You wanna break?" You offered attempting to clear your head.

"Sure." Oliver shrugged again. He bent over the table and you almost choked as a strange realization hit you. Oliver was hot. You had always known he was cute, but now as his blue button up shirt stretched over his muscular shoulders you began to take in the reality of his physical form.

Of course being pretty drunk you didn't keep this to yourself, "Damn Kid when'd you get hot?"

Your words processed through Oliver's brain just as he shot and he was in such shook his grip slipped and the break couldn't even qualify as such.

Oliver couldn't have cared less about the game anymore, "W-what did you just say?"

"Nothin' your just hot."

Flames erupted onto the boys cheeks as you shrugged.

"My turn!" You gasped excitedly moving on completely from your conversation.

Oliver stayed where he stood staring at the spot which you had occupied moments before, trying to calm his heart which was racing uncontrollably.

"Don't let the girl get in your head!" Willams shouted from the booth.

Oliver snapped back to reality shaking his head lightly and switching his gaze back to you.

You bent over the table carefully closing one eye and setting up your shot. Oliver tried not to be distracted by the way the tip of your tongue poked from between your lips, or the way the short dress you were wearing revealed your upper thighs as you bent to align your shot.

The clink of the cue hitting the other balls brought him back and he watched as two stripes fell onto their place.

You sat back up smirking. "That's how it's done."

Oliver smiled looking down, "It's your shot again." He chuckled.

"Oh right!" You exclaimed before walking back around the table.

It went back and forth for a while, you still ahead two balls, Oliver caught up quick but once you go some coffee in you you managed to keep a lead.

You still weren't yourself though. You found yourself watching Oliver with a close interest. You found yourself wondering what he looks like without that button up on. It didn't help when you passed closely by him and you suddenly caught a whiff of his cologne. Alcohol was nothing next to the intoxicating scent he emitted. You suddenly found yourself edging towards him. You shook your head as another crude thoughts filled your brain.

"I have got to stop drinking." You mumbled.

The game ended as intense as pool gets. Both of you were down to nothing but the eight ball. You had lost your lead when Oliver had "fallen" (pushed by Willams) onto you right before the shot. You were given another one but you couldn't seem to focus.

You swore watching where the cue landed, it was a ridiculous shot and you growled in frustration. You contemplated your best move before sighing and muttering a defeated, "Fuck it." Under your breath.

You lined up your shot, biting your lip and shooting. The 8 bounced off of the felt across from it and thunked lightly into the bottom right corner.

You cheered Jocelid laughed running and hugging you as Willams cursed. You pulled from your hug and turned towards Oliver.

He suddenly looked so different, not like a kid, but a man. He was smiling slightly. "Good game y/n." He spoke sticking out his hand.

"Good game Kid." You responded, taking his hand in yours.

You almost jumped at the electricity that seemed to transfer from the touch. Oliver looked unfazed.

You expected the strange feeling to wear off, they would be gone and a hangover would replace them, but that wasn't the case. You had gone to practice that day with a headache and a fluttering feeling in your stomach. Practice helped clear your mind as you focused on nothing but the quaffle.

After practice was a different story. You landed easily on the ground, a breath of air releasing you as your feet came in contact with the ground. You had decided to take an extra hour to work on maneuvers, considering your last game you had had some pretty close calls with bludgers.

You walked into the locker rooms expecting it to be empty, but your eyes went wide when you say it wasn't.

Your broom clattered to the floor, a hot rush climbing to your cheeks. Your heart thumped loudly rattling your ribcage as wings took flight in your stomach, making you want to vomit.

Oliver stood in front of you bright red, his hair dripping as a white towel was wrapped around his waist. You traced his chest, slamming your eyes shut once you realised what you were doing.

"Oh Merlin, I-Im so sorry, I was just, and I thought it was empty, so sorry again Kid." The nickname left your lips feeling funny, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.

Oliver's expression of embarrassment seemed to be captured lightly by frustration.

"Why do you call me that?" He asked.

You tilted your head in confusion attempting to keep your eyes at his own.

"Kid. Why do you call me Kid?" He repeated.

"Umm I," you paused unsure of your answer, "You're younger than me, it's just a nickname."

"I'm only three years younger than you." He had taken a step towards you and now it was becoming far more difficult to keep your eyes above his neck. "I'm not just some kid."

"I know Oli," You blushed eyes flicking down then up quickly.

Oliver groaned through his teeth, "I don't think that you have ever called me by name either." Frustration had oberwhenemed his embarrassment and it was as if he had forgotten the emotion entirely. How come you couldn't just see him as a person? Why were you so insistent that he was a kid? Was he truly that juvenile?

You weren't sure what to say, Oliver had now come closer to you and you quickly realized that his infatuaing scent was not cologne but his shampoo. And now his hair damp freshly washed, he smelled of it so strongly your head spun. You stumbled for a sentence, but you seemed to choke miserably on your own hot embarrassment. Finally you scenes, "I didn't m-mean to make you seem weak or childish in front of the team, it was just a nickname."

Oliver chuckled biting his lower lip, "I don't care what they think." He explained

"Then?-"

"Because I care what you think." He whispered.

You resisted the urge to shudder, your stomach was doing flips and you weren't sure if you wanted to run straight at the keeper or far away from him.

"What is it going to take to change the way you think of me? He asked, his voice was deep and husky. He was now so close you could have reached out and touched him. Your heart was either beating so fast, its beats were inaudible or had stopped completely.

"What's it going to take?"

Apparently that was all it took. You couldn't handle it anymore, whether he meant to or not he was driving you completely insane. You were sure your mind would have melted if you had been held under that tension for even a moment longer. You took as step forward grabbing the nape of his neck and slamming his lips onto yours.

Fireworks didn't explode, fire didn't rage, sparks didn't fly. Quite the opposite happened. All of that tension and frustration was suddenly released and the world went still.

Nothing existed but you and him, your hands tracing down his bare chest as you bit lightly on his lip. He moaned and you took it as an opportunity to slide your tongue between his lips. His taste was overwhelming, mint and sweat mixed making you crave more. His hands closed around your waist tightly, his heart finally beating at a normal speed as you stood in his arms.

You pulled apart gasping for air, your lips swollen. A light blush took your features and Oliver couldn't help but feel his heart soar at the sight.

Now as frustration drained from his body as blood would from a wound, embarrassment found its place. He suddenly became very aware of his lack of clothing, and you hand which still rested lightly on his chest felt white hot.

His own cheeks flushed brightly taking a step back and scratching the back of his neck, "I ummm, uhh, I'm sorry, I didn't-" His search for a sentence was cut short as you lightly placed your hand on his arm.

"You know your kinda stupid right?" You giggled.

Oliver felt a fresh wave of red coat his cheek in a wave of heat.

"I kissed you dumbass, what do you have to apologize for?"

"Umm, I just-" Oliver suddenly felt trapped, you had kissed him? Why couldn't he seem to process that?

"Well are you gonna kiss me this time or do I have to do it again?" You smirked.

Oliver couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face as he leaned forward and reconnected your lips.

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

Masterlist

1K notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #403

“ashes to ashes, watch me disappear”

If given the opportunity, would you like to star in a musical? Definitely not. I don't like musicals. Name one person you’d take a bullet for: There's honestly a lot, but Mom immediately came to mind. Any posters of a band on your bedroom wall? Yeah: Metallica and Marilyn Manson currently. I want lots more, especially an Ozzy one. Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate? I don't believe in soulmates. Do you share your bedroom with anyone? No, unless you include my cat and snake. Is your favorite color yellow? No, it's actually one of my least favorites. Were you born in a hospital? I was. Do you know the name of the person that delivered you? No, but Mom does. I think he delivered me and my two sisters, and I know Mom has seen him since for other reasons. Was your birth recorded? God no. Good call, Mom. Did you eat a peach this week? Would you believe me if I told you I had a small bit of peach pie for my sister's birthday? For some reason, I just really wanted to try some. It was okay, but the aftertaste sucked. Are you leaving the house tomorrow? Yes, for TMS therapy. Every weekday. Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? I honestly do. If you could get free vocal lessons would you take them? Probably not. I don't like singing in front of anyone, and it's not like I wanna get anywhere with my singing, so. Is your mother diabetic? She is. Are you? No. Ever sang someone to sleep? No. Who do you stalk the most through Facebook? Nobody. Have you ever deleted your Facebook, then brought it back? No. What is your main responsibility each day? Be sure to take my medications. Do you feel like you fulfill those responsibilities? Yeah. There are rare mornings where I forget, but I almost always remember. I don't fw skipping out on meds that keep my mental health stable. When was the last time you used spray paint? Good question. Do you know the middle name of the last person you kissed? Yep. Who is the friendliest person you know? My mom, probably. Something that annoys you about summer: THE HEAT. THE HUMIDITY. UGH. Something that annoys you about winter: Hm. That's hard to say, given I love winter. I guess the fact it doesn't snow enough here. Are the doors of your fridge side by side or on top of one another? Side-by-side. If you’ve moved out of the house you were born in, do you know the people who live in that house now? Nope. Have you ever cried in a movie theater? Not sobbed or anything, but I've definitely teared up and gotten the sniffles because of multiple movies. Do you read comic books? No. Do you force your way into conversations in which you are not involved? No. Have you ever seriously pretended to be clinically insane? I didn't need to pretend; I'm pretty damn sure I was for a while. Might I add that it's EXTREMELY inconsiderate to pretend you're insane, btw. Insanity is not "cool." It's not "funny." It's not "edgy." It's a serious, confusing, heart-wrenching issue that can ruin lives. Do you know anyone with a stutter? Yes, myself included when I'm even mildly nervous. And sometimes just randomly. With a lisp? I don't believe so. What was the last board game you played? The Disney version of "Pretty Pretty Princess" w/ my niece and even my nephew, even though his sexist-ass dad didn't want him to. Like let your kid have some fun with his sister and aunt, goddamn. They had a blast. It was Aubree's birthday present from me, so I am SO glad she loved it. Did you win? Ha ha, no, I always let Aubree or Ryder win. I came super close once, but I let the kids bend the rules a bit. They don't like losing, and even though they definitely need to understand that just happens and is totally fine for it to, I wasn't about to be the one to make them sad about it. When was the last time you tried to speak with an accent? OH MY LAAAAAWWWWWWD. Also at Aubree's b-day party, at one point, I spoke in a snobbish British accent while I was winning at the aforementioned game. Ryder asked, "Why are you speaking Spanish?", and I fuckin DIED. Have you ever made up a word before? Yeah, I know at least a few instances for fantasy animals in writing. When was the last time you went to a museum? A couple summers ago when my brother and his son visited, we went to a science museum. My nephew was sooooo into it. Do you have a nice yard? If so, do you spend a lot of time outside in it? If not, where do you go when you want to relax outdoors on nice days? Our front and back yards are both small and honestly very boring. The grass is a pretty green, but that's the only nice thing about it. I don't go to sit outside here on any day. Do your parents enjoy any of the things that you enjoy? Do you bond over these things? My parents and I have very similar music tastes, so there's that. I also didn't know for the longest time that Mom likes to write, which I sure as hell do, too! She doesn't really write anymore though, and she's self-conscious of it anyway, like I am. She and I also love a lot of the same shows. What is the movie that you have waited the longest for/which film do you remember anticipating the most/are still anticipating? I think The Incredibles 2. I aaaalways wanted to know what happened after the end of the first film. Do you have any ideas for a story or movie you’re planning to write or you’d write if you had the time/had the talent? Please share a synopsis! I genuinely think some RP I've written is series-worthy, but I don't feel like re-writing the YEARS of RP into a book format, and I sincerely worry that the ridiculously dark parts could inspire people like serial killers and cause A LOT of controversy, crime-blaming, and just general hate. I don't want to be involved in that. What is something that an interested guy/girl could comment about you, that would make you instantly open to them (e.g., “That book you’re reading is from my favorite author”)? Compliment my Markiplier tattoo, obviously knowing it's a tribute to him, and we're essentially besties. Is there a person in your life (maybe barely) that you feel in constant competition with (even just in your imagination)? Maybe you feel they are consistently outshining you? Ugh... there's a local photographer that's much more successful than I am that I admittedly am very envious of. I swear to whatever god you may believe in that I mean it from a modest perspective, I really, really do, but I genuinely think my skills surpasses hers, and she's only more prevalent because photography REALLY is about who you know. She's talented, yes, but like... come on. If you are single, even if you are normally happily single, are there certain specific things you witness that make you wish you were in a relationship (e.g., people getting engaged)? I mean yeah. I miss cuddling, holding hands, kissing, just being cute together, and especially people getting engaged or having kids. It's such a trigger to me. Once upon a time, that's all I wanted with Jason. I wanted to be that beautiful couple that got married and had two or three loved-beyond-words children, but then he left so abruptly, and I feel like it was so brutally robbed from me. I don't want kids anymore like at all, but the point still stands that I felt like my dreams were just ripped away. Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? I use "Ozzkat" just about everywhere. Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? OHHHHHHHHHH YEAH. There have been a couple days or so where I was totally glued to looking up various tattoo designs, bingeing let's plays or conspiracy theory videos, etc. etc. If you ever think about getting married, what are some aspects of the wedding that you would like to see in a non-traditional manner (e.g., a different color dress or “partners” over “husband” and “wife”)? I WILL NOT get married in a church, first of all. I'm also not having the traditional vows, and I probably won't wear a white dress, but instead black. Salt & vinegar, barbecue, sour cream & onion, or cheddar? Ohhhh, I like all those options but barbecue. I think I've gotta go with sour cream & onion, though. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? A D O R A B L E ! ! ! I think they're ordinarily geeky, but I mean, geeky is cute in my world. :^) Do you believe in demonic possession? How about ghosts? Angels? Angels, no. Spirits/ghosts, 100%. I don't exactly believe in demons, per se, but I do question if evil spirits can possess someone. What is one romantic movie that you enjoy enough to watch more than once? I've seen The Notebook numerous times. Name three countries you want to visit; why those three? South Africa to interact with meerkats at the KMP, somewhere up in Canada to see the Northern Lights, and Germany just because, really. I took German for four semesters, and the culture and all just interests me. Do you have a good luck charm? No, considering I don't believe they do jack. Do you use Skype to talk to your friends? Only Sara. Now that I have Discord semi-figured out now though, we'll probably use that for voice chatting. Are you allergic to any animals? I might be allergic to dogs. Do you usually spend your weekends out, or at home? I'm like... always at home. Do you think it’s wrong for people to say "retard/retarded" as an insult? Absofuckinglutely. Don't pull that shit when I'm around. Have you ever had to go to the police department? No. Have you ever lived through a hurricane? Plenty. Have you ever had a home-grown tomato? Yes, from my old friend's garden. We'd have delicious tomato, mayo, and bacon sandwiches. The only instance where I've enjoyed tomatoes. Have you ever held a real gun? The former friend I mentioned just before, her husband always carried a gun, and he just needed me to hold it for a sec for some reason I don't recall. I hated the feeling. Would you rather wear Converse or Vans? I like both, but I think I prefer Converse. Have you ever been called bipolar? Yes, because I clinically am. Have you ever made fun of a handicapped person? FUCK no. And like the "retarded" thing, don't you fucking DARE to do this in front of me. I WILL deck the shit out of you. Do you think it’s okay to have sex before marriage? Sure, as long as you're being safe and are very thorough in communication. Do you like to watch old sitcoms? I don't really watch TV as I say in like every survey it seems, but I do enjoy some old sitcoms I grew up watching with my mom, like The Nanny, The Golden Girls, The Munsters, etc. If asked, could you run a mile nonstop right now? Being completely serious, I don't even know if I CAN physically run right now. My legs are so incredibly weak, and I'm humiliatingly close to what my heaviest weight was back in 2016, so I can almost guarantee my knees would crumple if I tried. Do you wear those rubber wristbands? I used to. I don't really like bracelets nowadays. If a necklace/ring gives you green marks, do you still wear it? Nope. Have you ever driven an electric car? No. When was the last time you saw someone you went to high school with? Uhhhh idk. What breed was the last dog you saw? A fucking GOLIATH of a lab. I shit you not when I say my sister's roommate's dog Hudson is the size of a goddamn bear. How long have your parents been together (or how long were they together, if they no longer are): I wanna say they were together at the very least 20 years. What has been your most epic cooking failure? I once accidentally put something (I don't remember what) in the microwave for around 45 minutes I believe, and I walked away and completely forgot about it. I remembered a long while later, and safe to say, it wasn't edible, whatever it was, lmao. Have you ever been to Mexico? No. Have you ever had a parrot sit on your shoulder? No, but that'd be cool. Has anyone in your life ever treated you abusively? No. How long has it been since your last breakup? Somewhere around two years ago? My memory is so garbage nowadays. Can you concentrate well while listening to music, or do you find it distracting? It's distracting, usually. What’s something you’ve been struggling with lately? I've been pretty bad about drinking too much soda lately. :/

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''under the graveyard'' by ozzy osbourne

2 notes · View notes

gryffindorgazelle · 4 years

Photo

Heaving through corrupted lungs

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

Will the hive survive, will the gladiolas Succeed in banking their fires To enter another year? What will they taste of, the Christmas roses? The bees are flying. They taste the spring - Wintering, Sylvia Plath

I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory When’s it gonna get me? In my sleep, seven feet ahead of me? If I see it comin’, do I run or do I let it be? Is it like a beat without a melody? See, I never thought I’d live past twenty Where I come from some get half as many. Ask anybody why we livin’ fast and we laugh, reach for a flask We have to make this moment last, that’s plenty - My Shot, Lin Manuel Miranda

Despite everything, it’s still you. Stay determined. - Undertale

Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere. - J. R. R. Tolkien

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Dorcas Meadowes NICKNAMES: Cas, Dora AGE: 20 BIRTHDAY: August 17, 1960 GENDER: Female PRONOUNS: she/her

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Rachel Meadowes (muggle) (48) FATHER: Alexander Meadowes (wizard) (50) SIBLINGS: Nicholas Meadowes (muggle) (25), Magda Meadowes (witch) (15), Jacob Meadowes (wizard) (12)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Jessica Sula BUILD: 5’7”, curvy – thick thighs save lives HAIR: Thick and curly HAIR COLOR: Black EYE COLOR: Brown SKIN COLOR: Brown DOMINANT HAND: Right hand ANOMALIES: A few burn marks on her arms from potions gone awry; a crescent moon scar on her left knee from jumping off the roof when she was eight; little nicks on her fingers from prepping potion ingredients SCENT: Dittany, mint, and coffee ACCENT: English – Liverpool area ALLERGIES: Grapefruit, general hay fever DISORDERS: Mild depression, made worse by the state of the world, as well as London’s overcast skies. FASHION: Oversized sweaters tucked into jeans when she’s at home, long robes with slight embellishments when she’s in the wizarding world. Turtlenecks and pinafores, slacks and button ups – Dorcas loves muggle fashion and usually prefers it over robes. NERVOUS TICS: lip biting, tapping her wand against her thigh QUIRKS: when she gets mad, sparks begin to gather between her curls, and she will start to shock the people closest to her

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: London, England BORN: Liverpool, England RAISED: Liverpool, England PETS: A cat growing up (Marcie) and then an owl for her first year of Hogwarts (Towel – a tawny owl)

CAREER: Healer EXPERIENCE: In training. Third year of five EMPLOYER: St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Order of the Phoenix BELIEFS: Everyone deserves a chance – there are some who are beyond redemption, but people can change if they’re given the opportunity. Dorcas grew up in a small town just outside of Liverpool that was a mix of muggles and magical folk and the idea of any sort of discrimination based on blood status never crossed her path until she entered Hogwarts. MISDEMEANORS: None FELONIES: None DRUGS: Has dabbled in psychedelics but doesn’t use anything regularly SMOKES: No ALCOHOL: Yes DIET: Between doing work for the Order and her long shifts at the hospital, Dorcas doesn’t have a lot of time to cook. She’s always got a jar of peanut butter and jam in her pantry and two loaves of bread in the freezer but it’s rare that she has something even close to a full fridge of food. Usually she’ll grab takeout between shifts but there are some days where she’s so busy that food isn’t a thought until she’s falling asleep.

LANGUAGES: English

PHOBIAS: Small spaces, being restrained, things over her head and around her neck HOBBIES: Has a small garden in her room where she grows herbs. Also has a couple trailing plants hanging from her windows. She also collects postcards from every town she visits and displays them on a very crowded cork board. TRAITS: { + }: Protective, loyal, funny, uplifting, determined { - }: Stubborn, quick to anger, melancholic, acts before she thinks

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: There’s a park that’s about a ten minute walk from the house Dorcas grew up in and off of it is a small hideaway. It’s nothing more than a five foot clearing with a hollowed out tree and a small garden but it was the place Dorcas ran to when she was upset or sad and needed somewhere to release her anger. The city has grown since she left for Hogwarts but the little clearing has somehow remained untouched. SPORTS TEAM: Dorcas doesn’t follow sports – she enjoyed watching the school quidditch games but never followed the sport outside of the house competitions GAME: Exploding Snap MUSIC: Queen, The Beatles MOVIES: The Exorcist, The Omen, any horror movie she can get her hands on FOOD: Donuts BEVERAGE: Lavender tea with honey COLOR: Maroon, Burnt Orange, Bright Yellow

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Gryffindor WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 12 1/3”, limber, spruce, dragon heartstring AMORTENTIA: Eucalyptus, Bonfire on a cold evening, Fresh lilac bushes waving in the breeze PATRONUS: Black Bear BOGGART: A silent baby. Hers. Covered in sores and taking its last breath while she can’t reach it

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good. MBTI: ENFP MBTI ROLE: The Campaigner. ENNEAGRAM: Six ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Loyalist TEMPERAMENT: Choleric WESTERN ZODIAC: Leo (July 23 – August 22). Known for their exuberance, loyalty, and self confidence. Optimistic, enthusiastic, passionate, and spontaneous. Struggles to quiet down and listen, to take a moment before acting. CHINESE ZODIAC: Rat (Gold). Smart, talented, hot-tempered, jealous, with a strong sense of self-awareness. Rats are quick-witted, resourceful, and smart but lack courage. With rich imaginations and sharp observations, they can take advantage of various opportunities. PRIMAL SIGN: Otter. Clever, feisty, gregarious, likes to be in charge. Doesn’t like to look unintentionally foolish and dislikes living by other people’s rules. TAROT CARD: Strength. A card of bravery and fierceness. Symbolizes an unafraid woman. She is undaunted, indomitable, and steadfast. TV TROPES:

Surprisingly Normal Backstory: Dorcas grew up in a small town just outside of Liverpool, with two loving parents, two brothers, and a sister. Despite the presence of magic, her upbringing was average and she learned how to do things both the magical and non-magical ways. It was when she went off to Hogwarts that her life suddenly began to be turned upside down.

Challenge Seeker: Constantly seeking a challenge, Dorcas is always looking for ways to improve the potions she works with on a daily basis and hone her skills. She will not allow herself to be the weak link in any facet of her life.

Forgets To Eat: Between working at St. Mungo’s and running tasks for the Order, Dorcas often forgets to grab something to eat and doesn’t realise it until she’s snapping somebody’s head off. A lot of her anger issues might not be so volatile if she remembered to eat at least three meals a day.

SONGS:

Marigold – Mother Falcon

Bury all the marigold Underneath the bedroom As you stole two kisses from her lips Tears were shed And morals bled And petals were plucked Something in the heart beat like a drum

She – dodie

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep She tastes like apple juice and peach

Learn to Love – W. Darling

You can stand with a shield at your side Never breaking protecting your pride But you can’t really win if you’ve nothing to lose

Some Nights – fun.

Save that for the black and white I try twice as hard and I’m half as liked

So this is it? I sold my soul for this? Washed my hands of that for this? I miss my mom and dad for this?

Wild Heart – Bleachers

Were we there? Was I brave? To think everything must die For anyone to matter

Eyes Wide Open – Gotye

You just get used to living in fear Or give up when you can’t even picture your future

The Crooked Kind – Radical Face

I heard you say you weren’t born of our blood I know we’re the crooked kind But you’re crooked too

But I smell their blood I hear their voices somewhere in my bones

I know their names I carry their blood too They sing forgotten songs But I know the words They’ve been with me sine I was born

Blank Maps – Cold Specks

When my words head for the clouds Will you have my back? We were good children Darling, let it out

Let Your Heart Hold Fast – Fort Atlantic

To believe I walk alone Is a lie that I’ve been told So let your heart hold fast For this soon shall pass

IDEOLOGIES:

Peanut butter and jam belong on separate pieces of bread

Don’t give the universe a chance to bring your fears to life. Rephrase your thoughts and concerns in a positive way and throw your entire weight behind them. Things will get better, even if it’s only by the sheer strength of your will.

Never waste the opportunity for a good pun.

Always lick the bowl.

Trust your gut instinct. It knows more than you.

Life can be pain but it can also be so much more if you let it. Hold your friends close and don’t let them go – it isn’t blood that makes a family.

#dulcetask #task 001

6 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Klaine one-shot - “Missing You” (Rated PG13)

While Kurt is away on a business trip, his daughter Tracy misses him terribly, especially the way he smells. So Blaine comes up with a way to help their daughter miss his husband less. (1486 words)

Okay, so any multishippers out there might recognize this as a one-shot I wrote for the Kurtbastian fandom. Well, it is and it isn't. At the time, I had been writing this for both Klaine and Kurtbastian, but I hadn't narrowed down which one I wanted to write it for. Ultimately, I had decided on Kurtbastian because I missed writing Daddies!Kurtbastian. But there were whole middle sections in this one pertaining to Tracy that I was so sad to see go bye-bye. So I decided f**k it. I'm only copying from myself, so I'll put this one up anyway. I hope you enjoy it. If that bothers you for some reason, then don't read it.

Read on AO3.

“B-but … I w-want you to come h-home, Papa!” Tracy weeps, arms wrapped around her cat’s neck, hugging the animal a little too tightly. But Brian doesn’t seem to mind. Blaine has never met such a patient creature in his life. Still, he gives Tracy’s left arm a tug as a signal to ease up.

“I know, Bun-Bun, I know. I want to come home, too. I have to wrap up a few things here, but I’ll be home to tuck you in tomorrow night.”

Blaine can hear Kurt’s voice tremble as much as their daughter’s. He looks at his phone, smiling sympathetically at his husband on the opposite end of the line, his heart breaking with every one of Tracy’s sniffles. Kurt’s a strong man. He can get emotional from time to time, but it takes a lot to make him teary-eyed.

A sad Tracy is definitely at the top of that list.

The sounds of talking and traffic become louder on Kurt’s end of the call as he leaves his hotel to reach his destination – the Vogue office in Manhattan.

“Alright, guys. I’ve gotta go.”

“Bye, Kurt. We love you. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Blaine leans toward the phone as if he’s leaning in to his husband’s ear, about to give him a kiss.

This is the first business trip that Kurt’s been on since they welcomed Tracy into their lives. The second they found out that the IVF took and Mercedes was pregnant with their first child, they made the decision to move from the heart of the city to Upstate. Both Kurt and Blaine made the decision to work from home so that their daughter could enjoy the peace and quiet of a suburban lifestyle, one that they felt might be safer for her under the circumstances. It’s not that Kurt hasn’t had the opportunity to go to the city and visit Isabelle, but, according to Kurt, it was never the right time. At six months, Tracy was too new, and Kurt was afraid that a day spent away from her would mean missing out on essential baby/father bonding opportunities. At two years, Tracy caught a horrendous case of pneumonia and Kurt outright refused to leave her side for any reason. At three, she broke her arm in a freak tricycle riding accident. Year four was plagued with bizarre nightmares featuring Egyptian mummies, which led to them adopting Brian (since cats are considered Guardians of the Underworld, and the only logical solution for keeping mummies at bay).

But recently, there had been a lull in the Tracy AnderHummel drama, so the second Isabelle invited Kurt to come down to Vogue to help consult over the spread for Fashion Week, Blaine encouraged Kurt to go. Kurt needed this. He needed to feel like part of the New York fashion scene again, and not just via Skype. But in all of the excitement of getting Kurt ready to go – along with the three nights of epic goodbye sex that preceded his trip - Blaine underestimated how much he’d miss him.

Luckily, Tracy is doing a stellar job of projecting his misery for both of them.

“B-b-bye, P-papa! I love you!”

“I love you, too, Tracy. I love you, Blaine. I miss you both so much! Taxi!”

The call cuts off, and Tracy bursts into tears.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Blaine says, watching with an aching heart as Tracy buries her head into her tortoiseshell’s neck. Blaine could watch Tracy do that a hundred times – and he thinks he has in the past few days – and it would hurt just as badly as the first. “It’s only one more day. It won’t be that bad.”

“I---I know.” Tracy sniffs. “B-but I miss P-papa so much!”

“What do you miss most about him?” Blaine asks, rescuing poor Brian from being strangled by pulling his daughter into his lap.

“I m-miss his h-hugs … and his k-kissies.”

“But Bun-Bun! I’m hugging and kissying you right now!” Blaine exclaims, snuggling Tracy tight. It earns him a giggle, but not a smile that lasts.

“It’s not the same! I miss the way Papa smells. And how soft his skin is. You don’t smell like Papa. And your skin isn’t as soft. You have all that …” Tracy pauses, makes vague hand motions around her face “… stubbly stuff on your cheeks”

“True, true,” Blaine agrees, making a remorseful face. In times like these, when he comes to a crossroads that neither he nor Kurt can navigate, he’d offer to call Tracy’s mother. But with her away on tour, he’s on his own with this one.

Suddenly, he gets an idea.

And he grins.

“I think I can do something about that.”

***

“Okay, guys! I’m home early!” Kurt calls, throwing open the front door and kicking his luggage over the threshold. “Guys?” He scans the empty living room, confused as to where they could be seeing as Blaine’s car is still parked outside. Any place Blaine would have taken Tracy to cheer her up is a car ride away. “I said screw it!” Kurt continues, bringing in the rest of his bags and shutting the door behind him before going on the search for his husband and daughter. “Isabelle said she could help with the wrapping up, and I got on the first train I could catch. So here I … am?”

Kurt turns the corner from the living room into the master bedroom and finds his husband, his daughter, and his daughter’s cat, all lying on his bed - Blaine and Tracy holding Wii controllers, heavy in the throes of Mario Kart, with Brian on Tracy’s left.

And they’re wearing face masks.

Specifically, Kurt’s face masks.

Expensive face masks.

“Uh, what’s going on here?” Kurt asks, bending to kiss Tracy on the top of her head, between the twin buns that earned her the nickname Bun-Bun.

“Mario Kart,” Blaine and Tracy answer in unison.

“I can see that,” Kurt says.

“I’m winning,” Tracy announces.

“Good for you. I think the question I’d like an answer to is what’s going on with your faces?”

“We’re masking,” Blaine says, biting his lower lip and veering to the left to avoid the green turtle shell Tracy’s Princess Peach just launched. “I’m wearing blue agave, and Tracy here is wearing chocolate and strawberry.”

“It smells yum, but it doesn’t taste very good,” Tracy says, nearly climbing out from underneath the covers as her car speeds towards the finish line.

“No it doesn’t,” Blaine agrees, his tone and grimace leading Kurt to believe that the two of them gave the concoction a pretty substantial lick before coming to that conclusion.

“No, well, I didn’t spend $50 on it because I thought it would taste good. But why, may I ask, did you guys decide to slather $150 worth of my best face masks on just to play video games?”

“The masks weren’t a pre-requisite for the video games,” Blaine explains. “We’re just playing to occupy the thirty minutes we need to wait for these things to dry.”

“Wonderful.” Kurt shakes his head. “But could you please answer the question.” He’s not really concerned about the wasted masks or the money. He’s been trying to instill the concept of boundaries in Tracy, who has recently taken to rummaging through their things and other kids’ cubbies at school without permission. If Blaine uses Kurt’s things without asking, it may give Tracy the impression that she can do the same.

“Well, after you got off the phone with Bun-Bun here, she couldn’t stop crying. I asked her what she missed most about you, and she said the way you smell. So I tried to remember the last smelly thing you wore before you left, but you took your cologne and your products with you. So we settled on this.”

“Ah.” Kurt sighs. He completely gets it. Whenever his mom went away for longer than a day, he would spray her perfume on his pillowcases and sheets so he could pretend she was tucking him in at night. After she passed, he doused his room in the stuff. The day his father finally got around to changing Kurt’s sheets and doing his laundry wiped the scent almost clean away, and Kurt cried himself hoarse.

He didn’t talk to his dad for a month after.

“Okay, okay, well, you guys I understand …” Kurt sits on the edge of the bed beside Brian, who’s solemnly watching Tracy play “… but why is Brian wearing a mask?”

The cat looks up at the sound of his name, face covered in a thick, green goop. It’s fairly intact, so at least he’s been polite enough not to groom it off, but Kurt can’t decide if the expression on his face is one of contentment or resignation.

Blaine side-eyes his husband and gives him a wink. “Because he missed you, too.”

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

41 notes · View notes

annastrxng · 7 years

Text

Annlett: The Great Escape? Or the Great Defeat?

Chapter #1: I’d Come For You

Anna’s pale face is caked with several days worth of dirt, dried blood, and grime. Her dark locks fell in a wild tangle to the side of her neck, in the form of a sloppily decaying bun. Craters and cracks formed across her gentle ripe-peach colored lips, which, seem to remain pursed in perpetual anticipation of what was to come.

Sharply bristled cords dig deep trenches in the soft flesh of her wrists with every minor movement Anna makes. The ripping of her skin serves as a constant reminder that she is no longer a free citizen of the colonies, but rather a prisoner of His Majesty’s army.

Bruises inflicted by boots and fists practically sing against her stays with every breath she takes. Anna had been dealt with harshly by her captors; not that she could blame them. They were after answers, not awards for hospitality.

The charges against her were right on the money: sedition and spying. Having been captured with treasonous correspondence on her person, Anna could scarcely refute the claims; even if she wanted to. She had been tried, convicted, and sentenced to hang.

Anna’s soul was exhausted from the time it spent wavering between carefully weaved fictions and the gospel truth. She didn’t want to have to lie again. Her words had destroyed the only thing she had left to fight for, Major Hewlett. He was an unforeseen casualty of her career as a spy. An innocent man caught in the nasty tangle of strained friendships, loyalties, ever shifting-morals, and sides.

The brunette’s hands were empty. She had nothing left to give after devoting everything she owned to the Rebel Cause. Anna had sacrificed her all in the fight. Unfortunately, not even her life would be spared.

Her shoulders slump in defeat. They seem to have taken on the weight of the world and it is a burden too heavy for her to carry. There is no hope of a rescue, not even a minuscule flicker. No one in the Culper Ring would notice that Anna was in danger for several more days. By the time they would realize it, they would be too late. The near solitude of her confinement was to be her only and final companion.

Long dark lashes slowly flicker upwards to examine the ever darkening sky, on this, her final night of life. There, twinkling against the deep grapefruit oranges, cotton candy pinks and blues, and the calm lavenders, were the first evening stars. Anna’s vision blurs as silver orbs overwhelm the rims of her eyes and coldly wash down the curves of her cheekbones. In spite of the brunette’s great efforts to contain them, a series of agonizing sobs escape her heavily wracking chest.

Keeping her head angled defiantly up at the sky, Anna sputtered between tattered breaths. “Why did you say that you loved me for all that I am…and all…that I be, Edmund? Why? Why di…. did you…then… leave when… when you finally saw… the r… real me?! Why… did I ha… have to fall in love with you wh…while star gazing?! I… I should have… known…better. Play…wi…with fire and d…deserve to get burned. But I lo…loved you. Y…you…still, h…hold my heart even if, you be un…unaware of it. I…I should h..have told you when I had the chance. Now, you’ll …never know.”

Her hoarse and wavering tone continues to entreat,“God… be this your way of p…punishing me? Are you… to use my last hours… to taunt and t…torment me?! Am I… to die alone fo…for all of my sins?! Is… this my… comeuppance?” Anna didn’t really blame God or believe he was behind this. God was the author of all good things. But right now, nothing felt very pleasant and He was the one in charge.

No audible answers to her questions could be heard emerging from the mocking and heart-breaking silence. However, Anna could hear the laughter of her guards as well as their crude remarks regarding her pain.

The brunette curls into a ball and attempts to pray. Four words hesitantly pass over her lips as she resigns herself to her fate. “Thy… will… be … done.” It is all that Anna has the strength to say in conversation with the benevolent Creator of the Universe.

What hour she ceased keeping vigil for the morning light escapes her. The hours drain one into the next, very slowly and without much significant change. Heavy laden lids pressed closed and a sudden darkness envelopes her slender figure.

That is, until she becomes acutely aware of another presence in her cell by the sound of leaves crackling under their foot. The guards had come for her and she would soon have to meet her fate.

I’m going to die today. Anna reminds herself.

Startled, Anna jolts out of her dreamless slumber and pulls away from the other’s reach. The rebel spy wasn’t as ready to be lowered into the ground as she had tried to convince herself she was.

Swallowing thickly the brunette pleads, “w..wait…I…I be unprepared. G…Give me but a m…moment… to pray.”

Anna blinks back the fog of grogginess still clinging to her maple-syrup hues. It was still quite dark outside. To add to her problems, everything was still fuzzy from having an ocean’s worth of tears pour from her eyes. She could just barely make out a blur of vibrant scarlet and white.

The other’s large and amiable hand comes to rest upon her cheek. The touch, as gentle as it is, is met with a frightful fit of trembling. Anna can easily recall the brutality with which, the regulars had presented her the past few days and it filled her with great dread.

“Pl…please. D…don’t h…hurt me. I’ll…do…do wh…whatever… you ask of me,” the brunette supplicates. The word ‘whatever’ hitches in the back of her throat the moment she recalls the Queen’s Ranger by the name of Tanner and what he had demanded of her. She subconsciously shudders, hoping the guard would not request such things from her.

“Anna… Anna, easy. It is only me,” a patient and familiar voice beckons. The man crouches down beside her. “My God, what have they done to you? Have you been molested by any of the men here?” He murmurs softly, his callous fingers gingerly brushing back the thick mat of her hair from her wretched face. The major could not comprehend how ‘gentlemen’ serving under the King’s command would be brazen enough to treat even a rebel woman so horrendously.

More tears slick her lashes and her lips quiver violently. Why was she seeing the form, hearing the voice, and feeling the touch of Major Hewlett? Was this just another vision coming to devastate her already crushed soul?

It takes her a few moments to realize that Edmund was equally as physically present as she was. Unable to find her voice she shakes her head “no”. It is not an entirely honest answer. But it was the only one Anna had been semi-prepared to give considering the circumstances. She had been beaten a few times for the sake of gaining information but her stubborn tongue remained unwilling to offer the Regulars things of use, instead of insults. It made their treatment of her more hostile. What would it matter if she was already going to die? Cowardice has never been her style.

Edmund knows that Anna has been put through hell. He can see it in her gaze and he can sense it in the way she reacts to even the most adoring and affectionate touches. After all, Hewlett had once been a prisoner of war himself. He would not wish such ill-treatment on his worst enemies. Correction, maybe he would wish it upon Simcoe but never his beloved Anna. Tight knots form within Hewlett’s stomach as he considered everything his fellow countrymen might have forced Anna to endure.

In spite of the internal turmoil raging within him, Edmund’s thin lips sweep upwards to offer her a toothless smile in an effort to comfort her. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here now,” he breathes.

“Anna, I need you to hold still. I prefer not having to inflict further injury on you,” the Major commands, producing a sharp stiletto blade from his uniform coat. He motions in the direction of her tightly bound wrists to let her know his intent, lest she become even more fearful of him.

Even if, Anna had never loved him, Edmund felt determined to try and still win her affection. This dark-eyed enchantress was what made abandoning the terrible colonies so intolerably difficult for him. Somehow the news of her capture and impending death had softened his hardened heart once again, for her. Yes, she had injured him very deeply with her betrayal. It would have been extremely easy for a lesser man to let her hang; but not him. Hewlett could not let her die, not when he had the power to do something about it.

Besides, the longer Edmund dwelt on her actions, the less convinced he was that Anna had told him the truth about her feelings when they had last parted ways. There was something about her silent ‘no’ that just didn’t feel right. Perhaps, it was just the hopeless romantic side of him that found it amiss. Still, he couldn’t think of a reason for Anna to have saved him from one of her eldest and dearest friends, that didn’t equate to some level of love. Or at the very least, proclaim a twinge of respect.

The still trembling brunette braces her bruised figure against the logs used as a wall for her cell and whispers, “I…I’ll try.” The more she strives to quell her nerves, the more fiercely her poor limbs quake. Anna pulls her knees towards her chest and drapes her bound arms across them, in an effort to provide the major with the stillness required to free her.

The major quickly kneels beside her and wordlessly begins to saw at the thick and tightly wrapped cords.

Studying his stern features, Anna can not determine if he has truly come to rescue her. Or if, adversely, he has come to hand her over to the hangman. After all, one good betrayal deserves another. The uneasy knots return to her stomach and her heart is sent into a maddening series of thundering thumps. She knows that the Major has more reason to see her hanged than saved from the noose. Yet, personally sending people to their deaths just didn’t seem to be Hewlett’s style. That was more Simcoe’s way. Besides, Edmund had just vowed that everything would be ‘okay’. In all of the time, Anna had spent with the Major, she had discovered him to consistently be a man of his word. Would this be the first time he’d break her trust? Anna wasn’t a hundred percent certain. But trusting him appears to be the best and most logical option she has. Especially, compared to the alternative.

“E…Edmund? Wh..what are you doing here? Y… you’re s…supposed to… to be on…a ship …headed for Scotland?” Anna murmurs. Her tongue sticks to the roof of her dry mouth as she makes the not-so-veiled inquiry. Hewlett’s sudden return to her life both baffles and vexes her.

A nervous and half-breathy laugh escapes Edmund as he works through the first of the tight cords. “I was all but boarded when the news of your detainment reached New York. I knew I had to come.” The Major was kind of surprised that she hadn’t quite considered herself worthy of saving. Yet, he knew that was Anna’s way. She’d save others a thousand times over before thinking of herself.

In his rushed attempt to get her bindings undone, Hewlett slips and scratches her with the blade. A disapproving frown finds his lips as inky red blood is drawn from his mistake. He internally chastises himself for not being more careful with the poor woman. “My apologies, Anna,” he breathes in a contrite tone.

She winces slightly as the blade nicks her skin. Her wrists were so numb she barely felt the scratch. Instead, the brunette reacts to Hewlett’s abrupt frown and his words. “I be fine. There is no need to fret,” Anna assures him.

Anna had experienced far worse injuries growing up with predominantly male friends. Dearest acquaintances, who, on occasion inspired the need to embark upon dangerous adventures. The same group of male friends still managed to pull Anna into their high-risk stunts. With age, came the intensification of the consequences for their actions. No longer were they risking broken bones by dueling with sticks or jumping over fences, they were risking life and limb. Plus having been beaten at the hands of the Regulars for days, Anna had built up an almost scary indifference to pain. Besides, Hewlett was doing his best to free her. It would hardly be proper to chastise him for an unintentional mistake.

Anna’s head lowers shamefully and she murmurs, “I be sorry.” She can’t help but feel incredibly guilty for making him miss passage back to his homeland. In fact, she can’t even meet his gaze as it fixes upon her.

The Major stops his work to fully consider her. He can’t help it. His brows furrow together in bewilderment. Edmund repeats, “Sorry?”

“For having you come all this way…for me and…for making y….you miss your ship,” Anna returns.

A sigh escapes his parted lips. “Anna, look at me,” he implores. He uses the fingers of his free hand to lift her chin upwards. Edmund wants her to comprehend every word that spills from his tongue because it is imperative. She is more important to him than his home could ever be. His darling Anna had been since the day she jumped from the rebel boat; even though, he later discovered her ulterior motives.

Anna swallows sharply as her chin is lifted towards him. At his request, tired eyes locked upon his pools of root-beer and foam. It was strange how his eyes still radiated so much love and concern even after months of being apart.

He waits until he has her attention before continuing, “I would have traveled three times the distance and missed the very last ship home if it meant that I got to see you safe. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I am confident that there will be other ships bound for Scotland.”

“A….after everything I…I’ve d….done?” She queries in astonishment, her tone wavering ever so slightly above a pained whisper. Several fresh and unbidden silver orbs journey down her cheeks.

Now it is Edmund’s turn to be bashful. “You protected me from dangers that I could not see and you did so at your own peril. You valued my safety over my good opinion. While it wounded me terribly, I am still alive. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?” He gives a brief pause before asking, “Will you forgive me for being so ungrateful for your efforts?” His trembling fingers slowly wipe away her tears. Despite the muddy mess covering Anna’s countenance, he presses his lips chastely to her cheek.

A rosy pink sweeps into the upper crests of her dirtied cheeks. She is unaccustomed to such extreme displays of kindness and appreciation for her work. Yet, she should have expected nothing less of a gentleman like Hewlett. “The…there be nothing for me to forgive, Edmund. You be far too good and compassionate a man. I don’t deserve friends like you.” The brunette tips her head to the side to kiss the lowest corner of his jaw in return. Anna inhales slowly, taking in the scent of his shaving lather. While it was not sweet like flowers, it was certainly not pungent. In fact, it was kind of addicting scent. “It be I…who, should… ask for absolution,” she whispered in return.

Hewlett blinks back at Anna in shock. Her lips were warm but rough like sandpaper against his skin. He closed his eyes to savor the moment before the corner of his jaw would be surrendered back to the cold absence of her affection. Any semblance of anger he had clung to in an effort to keep his heart from getting broken again, crumbled like dried bread under the heels of a boot. Edmund finds himself once more at her mercy; even though she is the one still secured by the cords that he had only begun cutting. At the thought of her poor wrists, he gently removes his hand from under her chin and returns to the task of freeing her.

“Anna? There is something you should know…” Hewlett starts, before letting his voice trail off. His tone comes out sounding rather distant, tense, and slightly troubled. The knife is worked hurriedly against the ropes until he finally earns Anna’s complete freedom. Then, just as quickly as the blade was furnished, it is re-hidden within the confines of his uniform jacket.

The brunette smiles up at him as she rolled her wrists to regain a semblance of feeling back. The smile falters at the sound of his anxious tone. “Aye? What be that?” Anna prompts. She internally braces herself for whatever he will say next.

Edmund lets out a slow exhale. “I didn’t officially obtain permission to govern a rescue or secure your release. I… I persuaded the guards to take a small bribe. We need to get out of here and soon…before they change their minds.” His words are laced with apprehension. When he said small bribe, Hewlett meant a small fortune. However, he was too polite to tell Anna just how much her rescue cost him. She was worth every cent he spent and more.

“Judas priest!” She whispers, her eyes widening considerably at the revelation. Anna was completely stunned he had gone to such lengths for her. This was the man who, on day one of his Setauket occupation said that ‘law, order, and authority were everything’. Here, Edmund was breaking the law and risking his own life for her. She was quite impressed by his ingenuity and surprised by the drastic change that had fallen over him. Then again, if Anna truly thought about it, she too had changed considerably from that day.

Hewlett hurriedly returns to his feet. He extends his hand to Anna and helps her up as well. “Are you okay to stand?”

“I be fine, Edmund,” she answers.

From under his uniform jacket, he pulled a bundled scarlet-jacket, white vest, and breeches. He is quick to extend the uniform in Anna’s direction. A sheepish expression finds its way onto his face. “C…Can you be quick in changing? Getting you out of that dress…” He pauses to swallow sharply, fighting back improper thoughts about her. Clearing his throat he continues, “might help us get out of here undetected.”

“Aye,” she answers. The brunette didn’t even wait for him to turn around before she starts shedding her gown.

His eyes linger upon her wonderfully elegant curves. To his delight, Anna moves gracefully even in the tense situation; even-more-so for a bruised and battered prisoner of war. The sight of the ghastly purple and blue patches made his blood boil. Yet, Anna wore them so valiantly that it was hard not to find some beauty in them. He let his thoughts about her carry him away. Realizing that he was unintentionally ogling her and that it might make her uncomfortable, Edmund’s face flushes. Quickly and respectfully he turns his back to her.

It didn’t take Anna long to redress once her stays had been removed. A widened grin slides upwards on her lips when she noticed a faint hint of pink branding Hewlett’s cheeks before he turns away from her. Her heart skips a few beats as she realized just how deeply her heart was tethered to his. It took all of her strength not to confess how ardently she felt for him. Now was not the time for such things. They had to focus on escaping. Maybe such confessions could come later.

But first, she had a small and rather urgent problem. Anna had never worn breeches. The brunette had washed many pairs but never dare to try them on.Anna hadn’t the faintest idea of how to button them. Or even how to keep them from sliding down her considerably smaller waist, without taking them in several inches with a needle and thread. “Uhmmm… Major…” The brunette prompts, in a demure tone. Her own face taking on a tomato coloring as she peers over at him.

“Yes?” He quizzes, tilting his head to the side to look at her from over one shoulder in case she was not yet decent. “Ah… yes. Let me help you,” he breathes, without reflecting too greatly on what he was helping Anna do. He turns and strides the three steps it took to get to her side.

It seems the poor woman was confounded by the multitude of buttons on the front of the uniform breeches. So much so, that she had done them up quite awkwardly. Edmund takes a deep breath as his hands find her middle and he focuses on re-buttoning her. His knuckles accidentally brush against Anna’s bruised but warm skin which, is only covered by the thin fabric of the undershirt. As a result, his thoughts take an unholy turn. The officer struggles to control his passions. There is nothing he wants to do more in that moment than kiss her and claim her as his; with her permission, of course.

A small sweat breaks out upon his forehead as he tries not to gaze into her eyes or down at her chest. Edmund fears that in his eyes, she might discover all of the shameful thoughts he had and still has about her. Hewlett redirects his attention to the danger that would find them if, they lingered any longer than necessary.

Anna can scarcely breathe as his gaze is directed to her. The coincidental sweep of Hewlett’s knuckles against her filled her with a maddening desire that she had no choice but to conceal. She could not, however, pry her gaze away from Edmund as he studiously works on adjusting her uniform. If only she could know what was going through his mind. Did Hewlett still find her as attractive as she found him? Or had she somehow become repulsive to him? Why did it feel so natural being beside him even in this state of undress? Her thoughts are so loud, she is surprised that Hewlett can not hear them.

Edmund clears his throat when he realizes just how big the breeches are on Anna. They were still slowly drooping towards the ground in spite of his work. Thinking quickly, the major fashions a belt out of the extra coil of rope. Fortunately, Anna was small enough that it worked. “There….” He proudly states, appraising her with a once over glance. He can not help but be impressed by how stunning she looks in the uniform of his choosing. If only it had been her own as well…..

“Thank you, Edmund,” Anna gushes. Her upper row of teeth drags slowly against her lower lip as she contemplates kissing him. It is a thought that is quickly dismissed when he hands her the vest that belongs over the undershirt. At least this garment was a little more fitted to her figure. It was also much easier to button than the breeches had been. After the vest is secured, Anna is quick to shrug on the enemy jacket.

“I’m afraid that is as good as we are going to get. That is, until we can find some water…to clean you up with.” Hewlett remarks, removing the black uniform hat from his head and placing it upon Anna’s head. The hat too seemed slightly large. Although, this could work in their favor. Hewlett hopes that it is just big enough to cover her feminine facial structure. Still, if people didn’t look too closely, she could potentially pass for a recently recruited Regular. Anna was by far the prettiest Regular Edmund had ever seen.

It wasn’t until he mentioned water that Anna found herself craving some. Instinctively she licked her parched lips.

The subconscious gesture hadn’t escaped his notice. Hewlett wordlessly slips his flask to her with one hand, the other coils protectively around her waist. Hastily he ushers her out of the make-shift prison, into the camp, and towards the woods.

She is grateful for the drink. It had been at least two days since she had a proper one. Anna chokes with the first sip but takes the second one anyways. Semi-hydrated again, Anna steps briskly to keep up with the Major’s fast strides. The brunette doesn’t vocally thank him for fear of getting caught but she gives him a nod of appreciation. Her own fingers instinctively and unintentionally remain locked around his flask.

In the distance, early rising birds begin to chirp the first forewarning that everything would soon come awash with brilliant yellow light. The appearance of the sunshine would make their escape far more difficult. Nothing draws more attention than a pair of cherry red coats traveling through the leaf-barren forest. Attention was the very last thing they needed to attract. But first, they had to get out of the camp which, was, unfortunately, starting to awaken all around them.

((To be continued))

#annastrxng #anna strong #major hewlett #annlett #fanfiction #my fanfiction #after 62+hours of agonizing I'm turning this loose before it kills me #turn amc #major hewlett x anna strong #tw: long post #the overall title will probably change as I get further along but lol

15 notes · View notes