(no subject)
Oct. 10th, 2004 03:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gala_applesthis is another fic for Lady.
Unused Plans
cedric/oliver
not applicable
this is... well... plans. though the last paragraphs are details plans. they don't actually do anythign though.
If I had enough courage to talk to Cedric, we could have a date. We could go to a muggle improv club, and perform. We could do comedy, and pants each other, and I could see his hard legs. Or we could do drama, and I could kiss him as the curtains came flying down. But I can’t talk to him, I can only growl about the ‘pretty boy’ and how much I hate him.
If I could make a date with Oliver, it would be the most used, cliché thing in the world. A picnic with emerald grass, topaz trees and sapphire sky. We would feed each other conveniently small pieces of cake, then lick each others sugary fingers. We would drink wine in tall glasses rimmed with cinnamon. It’s cliché for a reason, because everyone wants to do it.
Our first kiss would be chaos. Pure unreined chaos. I would win the Quidditch House Cup, and while Angelina was doing laps and loop-de-loops in the air, Fred and George would be setting off fireworks, and a coach for Puddlemire United would rush from the crowd, and sign me to his team. While I was still hyped up, almost hallucinating with joy, Cedric would come over. He would throw me to the ground, and kiss me hard. Then all of a sudden, I would be in the Gryffindor common room, and I would think it really was a hallucination. Then I would find grass stains on the back of my pants.
If I was out, I would tell my friends how much I liked him. Between bribes and threats they would empty our common room, and get music to play. Oliver would come into the room, looking dashing in indigo dress robes. He would listen to the music, and take me in his arms. We would dance; waltz, then tango, and the music would play faster and faster until it was chipmunk speed, and we collapsed on the floor in exhustion. then he would roll from his back to his side, and raise my face. I would kiss him, and we wouldn’t stop for the longest time. Later that night, everyone would want to know if I got lucky, and I would refuse to tell.
If I was going to fuck Cedric, it would be utterly unplanned. We would both be in the dining hall, and either no one else would be there, or we wouldn’t care. An owl would swoop down, and give him a package, which he would open on the spot. It would be a package of cookies, which would make him ignore his plate. I would walk over, and demand one, and when he said no, I would plunder his lips to get his crumbs. Then he would throw me on the table, and the Daily Prophet would go flying everywhere; astrology into the air, want ads on the floor. And somehow our clothes would be off, without having to worry about the buttons. And his body would be art, and he would fuck beauty into me. All the prettiness that dad insisted I stopped caring about, so I could focus on Quidditch would enter me again.
I try to sit near Oliver during meals. I love his accent, I think I could make love to his voice, if he wouldn’t give me his body. When I was a child, I read a muggle book called Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It was weird, there were no moving pictures, but it was still good. I think I would take Oliver in the chocolate river. Our semen mixing with the melted chocolate, that would be the sweetest liquid in the world.
Unused Plans
cedric/oliver
not applicable
this is... well... plans. though the last paragraphs are details plans. they don't actually do anythign though.
If I had enough courage to talk to Cedric, we could have a date. We could go to a muggle improv club, and perform. We could do comedy, and pants each other, and I could see his hard legs. Or we could do drama, and I could kiss him as the curtains came flying down. But I can’t talk to him, I can only growl about the ‘pretty boy’ and how much I hate him.
If I could make a date with Oliver, it would be the most used, cliché thing in the world. A picnic with emerald grass, topaz trees and sapphire sky. We would feed each other conveniently small pieces of cake, then lick each others sugary fingers. We would drink wine in tall glasses rimmed with cinnamon. It’s cliché for a reason, because everyone wants to do it.
Our first kiss would be chaos. Pure unreined chaos. I would win the Quidditch House Cup, and while Angelina was doing laps and loop-de-loops in the air, Fred and George would be setting off fireworks, and a coach for Puddlemire United would rush from the crowd, and sign me to his team. While I was still hyped up, almost hallucinating with joy, Cedric would come over. He would throw me to the ground, and kiss me hard. Then all of a sudden, I would be in the Gryffindor common room, and I would think it really was a hallucination. Then I would find grass stains on the back of my pants.
If I was out, I would tell my friends how much I liked him. Between bribes and threats they would empty our common room, and get music to play. Oliver would come into the room, looking dashing in indigo dress robes. He would listen to the music, and take me in his arms. We would dance; waltz, then tango, and the music would play faster and faster until it was chipmunk speed, and we collapsed on the floor in exhustion. then he would roll from his back to his side, and raise my face. I would kiss him, and we wouldn’t stop for the longest time. Later that night, everyone would want to know if I got lucky, and I would refuse to tell.
If I was going to fuck Cedric, it would be utterly unplanned. We would both be in the dining hall, and either no one else would be there, or we wouldn’t care. An owl would swoop down, and give him a package, which he would open on the spot. It would be a package of cookies, which would make him ignore his plate. I would walk over, and demand one, and when he said no, I would plunder his lips to get his crumbs. Then he would throw me on the table, and the Daily Prophet would go flying everywhere; astrology into the air, want ads on the floor. And somehow our clothes would be off, without having to worry about the buttons. And his body would be art, and he would fuck beauty into me. All the prettiness that dad insisted I stopped caring about, so I could focus on Quidditch would enter me again.
I try to sit near Oliver during meals. I love his accent, I think I could make love to his voice, if he wouldn’t give me his body. When I was a child, I read a muggle book called Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It was weird, there were no moving pictures, but it was still good. I think I would take Oliver in the chocolate river. Our semen mixing with the melted chocolate, that would be the sweetest liquid in the world.
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-11 02:46 pm (UTC)