(no subject)
Title: I know you
Character(s): Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Prompt: history repeats itself
Rating: PG-13 just safety
Word Count: 314
Summary: Sometimes knowing what lies ahead can be a lot more painful
Author's Notes: Not my boys... I only wish they were.
I know the exact color of your hair when the sun hits it just right…a kind of dark charcoal mixed with deep brown.
I know how you treat your teammates… be mean enough to scare them into respecting you and hurt them just enough so they will remember it (you would never go too far because you don’t want anyone but your best players on the pitch).
I know your handshake… its bone crushing.
I know you hate me, not because you know me, but because you think you know me. We stand opposite… you are chaos and disregard… I am order and respect… you are for you and I am for others... you try to score and I block the goal… you hate me and I love you. For what it’s worth, I love you. I never expect you to return this… hell I never expect you to even know (how can you not know?). So I am not surprised when you wait for me once the match is over, after all history does repeat itself. I think I have permanent burses from where your fingers wrap around my wrist and drag me behind the broom shed (it’s happened so many times I have lost count). I know all of this and I know what is coming (god I wish it was me inside of you). Yet when your fist makes contact with my face I am still surprised.
I’m sure you wonder why I don’t fight back anymore (it’s because this is the only contact I will ever have with you).
I know the smirk you get after you are satisfied with my beating. When it is all over I know you will disappear into the moonlight, back up to the castle.
I know you Marcus…I know that your blood may be pure, but your heart your heart is far from it.
Character(s): Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Prompt: history repeats itself
Rating: PG-13 just safety
Word Count: 314
Summary: Sometimes knowing what lies ahead can be a lot more painful
Author's Notes: Not my boys... I only wish they were.
I know the exact color of your hair when the sun hits it just right…a kind of dark charcoal mixed with deep brown.
I know how you treat your teammates… be mean enough to scare them into respecting you and hurt them just enough so they will remember it (you would never go too far because you don’t want anyone but your best players on the pitch).
I know your handshake… its bone crushing.
I know you hate me, not because you know me, but because you think you know me. We stand opposite… you are chaos and disregard… I am order and respect… you are for you and I am for others... you try to score and I block the goal… you hate me and I love you. For what it’s worth, I love you. I never expect you to return this… hell I never expect you to even know (how can you not know?). So I am not surprised when you wait for me once the match is over, after all history does repeat itself. I think I have permanent burses from where your fingers wrap around my wrist and drag me behind the broom shed (it’s happened so many times I have lost count). I know all of this and I know what is coming (god I wish it was me inside of you). Yet when your fist makes contact with my face I am still surprised.
I’m sure you wonder why I don’t fight back anymore (it’s because this is the only contact I will ever have with you).
I know the smirk you get after you are satisfied with my beating. When it is all over I know you will disappear into the moonlight, back up to the castle.
I know you Marcus…I know that your blood may be pure, but your heart your heart is far from it.