Genre - RomCom [Kartoffel]
Jul. 7th, 2019 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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120_minutenTeam: Schwarz
Challenge: Genre: RomCom (Kartoffel) [fürs Team]
Fandom: Harry Potter
Charaktere: Oliver Wood/Charlie Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks
Wörter: ~880
A/N: RomCom AU mit/ohne Alligatoren. Einzig wichtige Marker: Charlie ist ein Zoopfleger und wohnt mit Tonks zusammen. Oliver ist ihr Nachbar, Freund und Profi-Fußballer.
Und ich bin immer noch nicht wieder im Schreibgroove, aber… Punkte.
As a general rule, Oliver didn’t stay around for breakfast. He didn’t stay for breakfast, he didn’t hook up with the same guy twice, and he certainly didn’t give them his full name. - Those were the rules he had agreed on with the club’s PR guy and, mostly, he thought they were pretty sound rules.
So when he opened his eyes that morning to bright light coming in through foreign curtains and a piercing headache, he… well, he didn’t panic, he was too hungover for panic. But he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.
“What are you doing?!” a bleary voice behind him demanded as he slipped from beneath the covers and started rummaging for his jeans. He’d certainly been wearing jeans yesterday. “It’s way too bloody early to be this awake.” A red mop of hair was lifted from the pillow and Charlie Weasley blinked at him reproachfully.
“It’s half past ten. Also, I’m heading out,” Oliver explained in his tested and true charming but noncommittal voice. "I’ve got some things to do today."
“Sure.” Charlie dropped his face back into the pillows. “Give me five minutes, I’ll make breakfast.” His mumbling was almost unintelligible.
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it!” Oliver dismissed the idea before his treacherous mind and queazy stomach could interject with the fact that he would really, really like some breakfast. And a shower and maybe some ibuprofen.
Grumbling, Charlie swung his legs to the ground. “I hate you, how are you so awake? Grab a shower, I'll put the kettle on.”
Oliver finally found his jeans, hanging neatly over the back of a chair that was otherwise buried beyond jumpers and shirts. “No, really, I'm good.”
With a huff and no further response, Charlie padded out of the bedroom. An indignant ‘Oi, get dressed, will ya?!’ announced that his roommate Tonks was not only home but awake. Oliver sighed. Well, there was no saving this morning from awkwardness anymore, might as well get a shower out of it. He pulled over one of Charlie’s Puddlemere Zoo shirts and followed him into the hallway. On his way to the bathroom he had to cross the living room where Tonks was lounging in front of the telly. Of course she looked up when he entered the room.
“Morning.”
“You I wouldn’t mind running around half-naked.”
“Thank you?”
“That’s sexual harassment, Nymphadora, your mum taught you better! Do we have tomatoes?” Clanking and rattling from the kitchen led him to believe that Charlie hadn’t abandoned his breakfast plans. Oliver’s stomach rumbled in appreciation.
Tonks directed Charlie to the tomatoes that were stored on the counter where ‘you’ve put them two days ago, Weasley, seriously’ and demanded to know what the hell he needed tomatoes for in the morning. Oliver, meanwhile, stood in their living room, wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a shirt, and waited for the awkwardness to kick in.
“A proper fry up, obviously!”
“So you have tattie scones?” Oliver hollered before reason could catch up. He had opinions on the English and their ridiculous ideas of ‘proper’ breakfast, okay?
“First you don’t want breakfast, now you’re making demands. Grow up, Wood!” came the answer from the kitchen. “Also, no, we’ll have my mum’s famous Cornish potato cakes, the only true breakfast food!”
Oliver rolled his eyes at Tonks, who shook her head and mouthed something like ‘Incorrigible’. “You’re not even Cornish!” she yelled for good measure and Oliver finally buggered off to the shower.
When he came out ten minutes later, smelling of Tonks’ flowery shampoo and feeling a lot more alive, the scent of frying potatoes and sausages filled the apartment. Charlie was still clanking about in the kitchen, and Tonks motioned Oliver to sit down with her.
“So, you finally got him to quit his bullshit?” Her grin was wide and Oliver rolled his eyes.
“We were shitfaced and I think we just fooled around a bit… Also, I’m a professional football player, how dare you imply that I would engage in such behaviour?!”
“Oh fuck it, I hate you guys.”
“You do get a fry up out of it,” Oliver reminded her gently. Which didn’t really help his own disbelief of the situation, but was a great point to be taken into account.
“I had been wondering what you saw in his pale, freckled ass.”
“That, and the walk of shame over the hallway is really short and unlikely to be caught by paparazzi.”
Tonks elbowed him just as Charlie called for them to come and get their food.
“And they say romance is dead,” she grinned.
“Hu?” Charlie looked up from the pan at that. His hair was ruffled and his eyes bloodshot and he had managed to get ketchup on his nose. “What was that?”
Oliver swallowed heavily. “I just explained to Tonks how I’m in love with your potato cakes.”
Charlie scoffed. “Sure. Here, just try them before you get married.”
Sitting around the kitchen table that was emphatically too small for three plates, Charlie and Tonks fell into easy banter. Oliver’s head was still pounding as he wolfed down the (quite excellent) potato cakes and contemplated changing a few of his hookup rules. At least the one about breakfast.
Challenge: Genre: RomCom (Kartoffel) [fürs Team]
Fandom: Harry Potter
Charaktere: Oliver Wood/Charlie Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks
Wörter: ~880
A/N: RomCom AU mit/ohne Alligatoren. Einzig wichtige Marker: Charlie ist ein Zoopfleger und wohnt mit Tonks zusammen. Oliver ist ihr Nachbar, Freund und Profi-Fußballer.
Und ich bin immer noch nicht wieder im Schreibgroove, aber… Punkte.
As a general rule, Oliver didn’t stay around for breakfast. He didn’t stay for breakfast, he didn’t hook up with the same guy twice, and he certainly didn’t give them his full name. - Those were the rules he had agreed on with the club’s PR guy and, mostly, he thought they were pretty sound rules.
So when he opened his eyes that morning to bright light coming in through foreign curtains and a piercing headache, he… well, he didn’t panic, he was too hungover for panic. But he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.
“What are you doing?!” a bleary voice behind him demanded as he slipped from beneath the covers and started rummaging for his jeans. He’d certainly been wearing jeans yesterday. “It’s way too bloody early to be this awake.” A red mop of hair was lifted from the pillow and Charlie Weasley blinked at him reproachfully.
“It’s half past ten. Also, I’m heading out,” Oliver explained in his tested and true charming but noncommittal voice. "I’ve got some things to do today."
“Sure.” Charlie dropped his face back into the pillows. “Give me five minutes, I’ll make breakfast.” His mumbling was almost unintelligible.
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it!” Oliver dismissed the idea before his treacherous mind and queazy stomach could interject with the fact that he would really, really like some breakfast. And a shower and maybe some ibuprofen.
Grumbling, Charlie swung his legs to the ground. “I hate you, how are you so awake? Grab a shower, I'll put the kettle on.”
Oliver finally found his jeans, hanging neatly over the back of a chair that was otherwise buried beyond jumpers and shirts. “No, really, I'm good.”
With a huff and no further response, Charlie padded out of the bedroom. An indignant ‘Oi, get dressed, will ya?!’ announced that his roommate Tonks was not only home but awake. Oliver sighed. Well, there was no saving this morning from awkwardness anymore, might as well get a shower out of it. He pulled over one of Charlie’s Puddlemere Zoo shirts and followed him into the hallway. On his way to the bathroom he had to cross the living room where Tonks was lounging in front of the telly. Of course she looked up when he entered the room.
“Morning.”
“You I wouldn’t mind running around half-naked.”
“Thank you?”
“That’s sexual harassment, Nymphadora, your mum taught you better! Do we have tomatoes?” Clanking and rattling from the kitchen led him to believe that Charlie hadn’t abandoned his breakfast plans. Oliver’s stomach rumbled in appreciation.
Tonks directed Charlie to the tomatoes that were stored on the counter where ‘you’ve put them two days ago, Weasley, seriously’ and demanded to know what the hell he needed tomatoes for in the morning. Oliver, meanwhile, stood in their living room, wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a shirt, and waited for the awkwardness to kick in.
“A proper fry up, obviously!”
“So you have tattie scones?” Oliver hollered before reason could catch up. He had opinions on the English and their ridiculous ideas of ‘proper’ breakfast, okay?
“First you don’t want breakfast, now you’re making demands. Grow up, Wood!” came the answer from the kitchen. “Also, no, we’ll have my mum’s famous Cornish potato cakes, the only true breakfast food!”
Oliver rolled his eyes at Tonks, who shook her head and mouthed something like ‘Incorrigible’. “You’re not even Cornish!” she yelled for good measure and Oliver finally buggered off to the shower.
When he came out ten minutes later, smelling of Tonks’ flowery shampoo and feeling a lot more alive, the scent of frying potatoes and sausages filled the apartment. Charlie was still clanking about in the kitchen, and Tonks motioned Oliver to sit down with her.
“So, you finally got him to quit his bullshit?” Her grin was wide and Oliver rolled his eyes.
“We were shitfaced and I think we just fooled around a bit… Also, I’m a professional football player, how dare you imply that I would engage in such behaviour?!”
“Oh fuck it, I hate you guys.”
“You do get a fry up out of it,” Oliver reminded her gently. Which didn’t really help his own disbelief of the situation, but was a great point to be taken into account.
“I had been wondering what you saw in his pale, freckled ass.”
“That, and the walk of shame over the hallway is really short and unlikely to be caught by paparazzi.”
Tonks elbowed him just as Charlie called for them to come and get their food.
“And they say romance is dead,” she grinned.
“Hu?” Charlie looked up from the pan at that. His hair was ruffled and his eyes bloodshot and he had managed to get ketchup on his nose. “What was that?”
Oliver swallowed heavily. “I just explained to Tonks how I’m in love with your potato cakes.”
Charlie scoffed. “Sure. Here, just try them before you get married.”
Sitting around the kitchen table that was emphatically too small for three plates, Charlie and Tonks fell into easy banter. Oliver’s head was still pounding as he wolfed down the (quite excellent) potato cakes and contemplated changing a few of his hookup rules. At least the one about breakfast.
no subject
Date: 2019-07-07 09:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-07 09:37 pm (UTC)Und ich freu mich schon auf deine Kartoffeln! =D
no subject
Date: 2019-07-08 08:24 am (UTC)CORNISH POTATOE CAKES!
I can't even...
Danke für Charlie, der so schön chill ist und danke für Tonks, die einfach alles aufbessert. <3
Du hast die Rom-Com-Kartoffel wirklich großartig umgesetzt.
Falls ich mich als Inspiration mal darauf beziehe, I blame you. ;)
no subject
Date: 2019-07-09 08:58 pm (UTC)(Die Kartoffeln machen mich wahnsinnig, was für eine bekloppte Idee, ich liebe es!)
Falls ich mich als Inspiration mal darauf beziehe, I blame you. ;)
Ooooooooh! Die Punkte würde ich euch gönnen, ich würd's wahnsinnig gern lesen! <3
no subject
Date: 2019-07-10 07:58 am (UTC)