#oliver wood prompts

[redheadspark]

hi!! can you do number 3 with oliver wood? possibly a frenemies to lovers kinda vibe (they're friends who are quidditch rival captains and they're insanely competitive yet secretly in love with each other)??

A/N - This is great for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this!

Walls

Summary - You and Oliver were two peas in a pod, in more ways than one

Warnings - Just fluff

“Let’s see the damage,”

“It’s not that bad, I swear—“

“Now, Wood,”

“I hate it when ya use my name on me,”

You eyed him as he finally gave him, pulling off the practice sweater he was wearing to show the thin shirt that was underneath, along with the scattering of bruises that were along his skin and near his collarbone.  You tutted, walking around the bed he was perched on and seeing more damage from the match he played littered on his skin. 

“Oli…”

“It’s nothin’, luv,” He reassured you as he saw the look of concern on your face, the mixtures of blacks and blues that were etched on his skin like a brand, “Remember my third year when I broke my arm?”

“I’m peeved with Trent when he slugged that blunger at you,”

“Aye, and yet no one suspected that you and I were dancing around each other then with how you reacted, huh?”

You threw a glare at him, seeing him faintly smile as you then turned on your heel to grab a few of the ointments that you had stored in your bag, knowing that you were going to have to help him out after the brutal match you saw him in.  Of course, the last thing you wanted for him was to be hurt.

Even when he was on the opposing team.

You two were not meant to be together, not when you were the Ravenclaw Captain and Oliver was Gryffindor.  In fact, your teams were the biggest rivals to each other that year, all thanks to their captains.  You and Oliver being completive seemed to be a tame way to explain how your team was so good, tame, and positive.  In fact, you and Oliver were at each other’s throats plenty of times: fighting over practice time on the pitch, throwing jabs at one another during matches against each other, and even giving each other sneers while running to each other in the hall.  

Even one afternoon in the early fall, when a small heat wave came through the highlands when your team was coming off the pitch.  Oliver, leading the Gryffindor teams, saw you grimace as you walked past them and tugged at your practice sweater.

“I’m so hot”

“Loving the confidence,” He said under his breath for you to hear, though the rest of the team heard and laughed.  

“Oh shut up!”  You growled at him while he passed and rolled his eyes.  You both loved, craved even, the sport of quidditch.  Just to think of anyone standing in your way would be a stupid decision, and yet Oliver was the one you threw off your game.

But in the best way.

Neither of you knew when it happened, or even how.  But there was an underlying affection and mutual respect for one another from the moment you two met as captains.  Although you could be stubborn and Oliver could be hard-headed, you both admired the drive in one another and the fire in your bellies.  Almost like you both were relieved that there was another that could match the drive, the thirst to win large 

One thing led to another so to speak. One minute you two were arguing nose to nose after a very close match, the next minute Oliver had you pressed against the wall hidden away from sight at the stadium with his hands on your waist and kissing you deeply while you tugged his robes off and rang your fingers in his hair.

“Let’s get some of this on, to minimize the bruising,” You explained, getting a few drops of ointment on the gauze you had to dab along the damaged skin.  Oliver squinted from the contact, but he remained still as you were wiping the ointment along the. Spots were seen as your eyes were concentrating on your work but looking rather soft and almost hurt.  You were hurt, seeing what happened to Oliver on the topic and yet not being able to stop It from happening.  

An intense game against Slytherin House, one of the biggest games to watch in the season.  Ravenclaw was in second when it came to the standings, Gryffindor taking the lead barely while Slytherin was in third and Huflelpuff dead last.  You knew the Slytherin Captain was not a fair layer, in fact, he was prone to cheating.  You’ve played against them a few times and almost got in trouble once or twice from his ruthless behavior in a room, and yet he was able to stay on a Captain.  But in this match, you were especially worried for Oliver, you two were freshly dating and still trying to keep your relationship under wraps.  Oliver knew you were going to worry, he simply hugged you before he left for the Gyrffindor locker rooms and told you it was just a game.

And yet there he was, perched on a table, littered in bruises and seeming calm about it.

“Hey,” he hummed, reaching over to take your hand in his own and lace your fingers together.  You paused on your work on him, feeling him take a long inhale as you were watching a particularly large bruise on his neck, “I'm fine.  I’ve been worse in games, you know that,”

“He had a vendetta against you,” you said in a bite, dabbing a bit more ointment on his bruises as you went on, “We know he pays dirty and does what it takes to win. He went too far today,”

“I’ve seen him do worse,” Oliver commented, you looking at him.  His brown eyes twinkled in the light of the room, looking so gentle at you even after taking a major beating on the pitch sometime before.  You loved that about him, the competitiveness would switch off in him as soon as he would land on the ground with both feet.  You wished you could do that most of the time, Oliver made it look so easy.  

He leaned in a bit more, almost being nose to nose with you as he searched your eyes with his own, and voice low but light, “I’m gonna be okay,”

You breathed in deeply, nodding to show that you were surrendering to the worries that you had about him.  It was always a fight, when either one of you would get hurt or would be pushed too far.  But in the end, you both cared for one another far too much to let it be damaged.  

You two had one more year together at Hogwarts before being in the real world, already making plans to move in together and play professionally.  Not caring about other students finding out about your secret relationship, not needing to hide it in the shadows, or having private dates.  Being able to hold hands in the open, to kiss each other when you wanted.  At this point in your relationship, it was a dream.  

Oliver tucked you in close and hugged you tightly, kissing your hair over and over as you clung to him.  He grew on you and became your safe space, someone to talk to you about everything and anything that was on your mind.  You need held back with him and he was the same with you.  It was still surprising that two stubborn quidditch lovers with high walls around their hearts would find one another.

And let the walls crumble down.

The End

July Prompt Session

tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[etherealsymphony]

Percy entering Hogwarts wearing a Hufflepuff quidditch jacket: Oh Marcus, Oli! There you both are. Shall we go to lunch now?

Marcus: The fuck are you wearing?

Oliver: Get that off your body right now.

Percy: What are you… oh this? Boys, Cedric let me use it cause it’s pouring out there! Calm down.

Boys: FIRST NAME BASIS?

Marcus: alright Oli let’s go we have to kill someone

Percy: Wait no!!!

[glittervame]

You're just like him

"You're a filthy cheater"

This post is going to be part of the Hogmarch Fandom challenge by @thatdammchickennugget check it out if you want to know more! I didn't proofread so sorry for the spelling errors or if it doesn't make any sense, love ya! <3

Oliver wood x Fem!Reader Warnings: Angst (No named person), Fred and George being little shits, Smut, this has basically no plot it's all over the place

The sun was setting, painting the sky a fiery orange as it dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with anticipation, and the stands were packed to the brim with students, all of them clad in their house colors. It was the final Quidditch match of the season, and the fate of the House Cup hung in the balance. Gryffindor and Slytherin, two of the most talented and determined teams in recent memory, were set to face off in what promised to be a brutal and intense battle.

As the players took to the pitch, Oliver and Y/n locked eyes for a brief moment. There was a flicker of something in their gaze, a mixture of determination, anger, and perhaps even a hint of desire. They knew that this match wasn't just about winning the House Cup; it was also about proving their worth to each other.

The game began with a blur of broomsticks and flying balls, both teams moving at breakneck speed. Oliver and Y/n circled each other like two snarling animals, the two captains waiting for the other to make a mistake. It wasn't long before the tension between them boiled over. During a tight turn, Oliver aggressively rammed into Y/n, sending her spiraling out of control. The crowd gasped as she careened toward the ground, but at the last moment, Oliver leaned forward on his broom, reaching out a hand.

Y/n snarled, baring her teeth, but grabbed onto Oliver's hand. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and for a brief moment, they were locked together. The crowd grew silent as they stared at the two captains, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills. Finally, with a jerk, Oliver pulled Y/n back onto her broom, and they continued the game.

But the tension between them only grew. Every time Oliver passed her, he'd throw her a venomous glare, daring her to try something. And every time Y/n would brush against him, she'd feel the heat emanating from his skin, the thunder of his heartbeat. The air around them crackled with anger and desire, and the game began to take on a new intensity.

The final score was close, with Gryffindor barely eking out a victory. As the Snitch flew into the hands of the Gryffindor seeker, the crowd erupted into cheers, Y/n barely registered the noise. She dismounted her broom as the Gryffindors flood onto the field, congratulating their team. Her eyes met Oliver's once more, and this time there was no anger, no desire. There was only hatred.

She stormed off the field, not bothering to wait for the post-game ceremony. She started barking orders at her team, her voice cold and hard as ice. But underneath the surface, she was seething. Oliver's touch had thrown her off balance, made her feel things she didn't want to feel. He had won, and now she wanted nothing more than to make him pay.

As the Gryffindors filed back into the castle, Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for Y/n, but she was nowhere to be found. He shrugged it off, figuring she was just angry about the loss. He didn't realize how right he was until he reached the common room and found her waiting for him in the shadows.

Her eyes were blazing, her chest heaving with anger. "You think you're so great, don't you?" she spat. "You think you can just take what you want?" Oliver stared at her, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about, Y/n," he said, taking a step back. "I just played a clean game."

"Don't lie to me!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. "You know exactly what you did. You pushed me off my broom, just like third year all over agian! You made me feel weak. You made me look weak" - she paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing - "in front of everyone!"

Oliver felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt her, hadn't meant to make her feel that way. But he couldn't admit it now. Not with her standing there, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "I was just playing the game, Y/n," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not personal."

She laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Of course it's not personal," she scoffed. "That's why you've been looking at me like that all day. That's why you've been trying to get under my skin." Her gaze bored into him, searching for some sign of weakness. "You're just as bad as he was. Just as arrogant and just as cruel."

The mention of him sent a shiver down Oliver's spine. He knew who she was talking about: the boy who had bullied them both for years, the boy who had made them feel helpless and alone. He was the reason Oliver had joined the Gryffindor quidditch team in the first place, the reason he had become the captain he was today. "I'm not him," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not like him."

But she didn't believe him. "You are," she insisted. "Using whatever you can for a fucking win, you're just as obsessed with quidditch as he was, gods, if you wern't such a goody two shoes you would've let Fred and George get rid of half of my team with that stupid candy!" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, Oliver felt a pang of guilt so sharp it took his breath away.

Fith year Fred anf George had gotten themselves some extra zonko's candy and diped it in a boils potion to prank the slytherins. They mailed it for the team before a match but some of the first years had gotten to it first. The next coupple of weeks you could tell exactly who ate the candy by the scaring on the kids arms before Madam Pompfrey heald it.

He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that it hadn't been his intention to hurt her. That he had just been trying to play a fair game. But something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of the way she had looked at him, her expression filled with such hatred and anger. Maybe it was the fear of pushing her further away. Whatever it was, he remained silent.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy like a curtain. Oliver could feel her gaze boring into him, could see the anger radiating from her every pore. He knew that if he didn't say something soon, this moment would become a permanent rift between them. But what could he possibly say that would make things better?

"If you had won fair and square this wouldn't be such a big deal Wood-" calling him by his last name stung, "but, you made me look like a fool in front of my house, and my parents, gods, I hope you're happy with yourself Wood, You're a filthy fucking cheater" she hissed, tears falling down her cheeks, but she didn't seem to notice them.

Oliver winced at the sound of his last name on her lips. He hated the way it made him feel, like he was just a reminder of everything she had gone through. He took a step forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but then thought better of it. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way," he said quietly. "It's just a game, Y/n. We both know it's not personal."

She laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Of course it's not personal," she snorted. "That's why you pushed me off my broom. That's why you kept knocking me down. It's all just a big game to you." Her gaze darted around the room, her eyes wild with anger and hurt. "But it's not just a game to me. It's my life." She takes in a sharp breath, "I have a legacy to live up to Wood; and you just got in my way"

Ah yes, Slytherins and their bloodlines...Y/n family had come from powerfull witches and wizards. Purebloods. After going to hogwarts they had either gon to work in a powerful position (Mostly her dads side) or playing for a Quidditch team (Moms side). It was in her blood to do great things and everyone knew that, makeing the pressure to live up to that alot bigger.

Oliver felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He really hadn't. But he couldn't help but feel that she didn't understand. Quidditch wasn't just his life; it was the only thing he had ever been good at. It was the one thing that had kept him going after everything he had been through. And now that he was finally captain, he couldn't just let some rival team come along and take it away from him.

He opened his mouth to try and explain, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he forced a small smile. "Look, I get it. Quidditch means a lot to you. It means a lot to me too. But we both know we can't change what happened out there today. All we can do is move forward and try to be better." He took another step forward, his voice softening. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Y/n. I really am. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Find me later Wood" and with that she turned on her heels and walked away. He took that as a small win, she didn't yell at him or hex him either.

The next time their paths crossed was at a Slytherin common room party, a few weeks later. It wasn't a formal event, just a get-together with some friends from different houses. Oliver knew Y/n was going to be there, and he had debated whether or not to show up himself. In the end, he decided that he owed it to her to try and make amends, even if it was just a little.

He spotted her across the room, laughing with a group of her friends. She looked beautiful, as always, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. For a moment, Oliver felt a pang of regret for the way things had gone between them. He wished he could go back in time and change it, make things better. But he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to move forward.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to walk over to her. "Hey, Y/n," he said, trying to sound casual. "Mind if I, uh, join you?"

She looked up, her expression guarded. "I suppose," she said slowly. "What do you want, Wood? Why's the little lion wondering around the snake den?"

Oliver winced inwardly at the way she said his last name. It was like a dagger to the heart. "Look, I just wanted to apologize again for what happened during the match. I shouldn't have pushed you off your broom. It was a stupid move, and I regret it." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I know we're both competitive, but there's no need for things to get personal."

Y/n studied him for a moment, her expression softening just the tiniest bit. "You know, Oliver, I've been thinking about what you said. You're right. There's no need for it to be personal. We're both just trying to do our best, you know?" She looked away, playing with the hem of her dress. "I guess I've been acting like a jerk, too. I'm sorry for that."

Oliver felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He hadn't expected her to be so understanding. "Thanks, Y/n. I really appreciate that. And I'm sorry for pushing things too far. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment, you know?" He paused, chuckling softly. "We're both a bit intense, I guess."

She laughed, the sound musical and genuine. "That we are. But I think we can both be better than that. We're both better than what we've been doing." Her expression turned more serious. "We're both good Quidditch players, Oliver. We both have a lot to offer. So let's just focus on that, okay?"

You know what they say, kiss and make up right?

The time they met after that was when slytherin had overbooked the quidditch pitch and Oliver was pissed off, as was his team. He had just gotten done telling the head of the house how they were supposed to practice if they couldn't get the pitch when he heard a soft voice calling out to him. It was Y/n.

"Little lion got here a little to late?" she fake pouts, "That's too bad" she shrugs and sits on the edge of the pitch. "Sorry for over booking the pitch, we were training our new seeker" she crooned, "Our last one got a little sick…" The two slytherins behind her snicker.

Someone "accedently" put a few drops of eye drops in his pumkin juice early this week...

"Well, I hope they feel better soon," Oliver says, his tone neutral. "I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe we could practice together or something. That way, we can both get the time we need." He hesitates, then adds, "You know, if you want."

Y/n raised an eyebrow at him, her expression amused. "Oh? And what makes you think I'd want to practice with you, Wood?" She glanced at the two boys behind her, and they both sniggered again. "I'm sure we can manage just fine on our own."

Oliver grinned, feeling a little more confident now. "Oh, I'm sure you can. But I'm also sure that we could both learn a thing or two from each other. We're both good players, after all." He paused, then continued, "And it might be nice to get to know each other better, outside of the context of Quidditch."

Y/n considered his words for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Hmm…you might have a point there," she admitted reluctantly, "Now that I think about it though, less time you have to practice, bigger chance for us to win the cup" she grins, "Better luck next time" she pats his shoulder before walking away. George whispered to Fred swearing that he could see steam coming out of Olivers ears.

The quidditch locker room was a mess, as usual. Broken wands and battered bludgers littered the floor, and the stench of sweat and worn leather hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog. Y/n L/n, captain of the Slytherin team, sighed heavily as she sat down on one of the benches, her long hair falling over her face as she tugged at the collar of her sweat-soaked shirt. It had been a long day, and the season was only halfway through. She glanced around, noticing that Oliver R/lastname, captain of the Gryffindor team, was still in the locker room as well. They'd had a particularly brutal match that day, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the sight of him.

But before she could gather her thoughts, Oliver stood up from his own bench and started walking towards her. He looked just as tired and disheveled as she felt, and there was something in his expression that made her heart skip a beat. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, as he stopped in front of her and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Hey, L/n," he murmured softly. "You okay?"

For a moment, Y/n couldn't speak. Her brain felt like it had turned to mush, and her heart was racing. She knew they shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Finally, she managed to croak out a reply. "I'm… fine." Oliver's eyes searched hers, his expression intense. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and husky. And before she could respond, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

She could feel his erection pressed against her, and the realization sent a shiver down her spine. It had been so long since she'd been with anyone, and Oliver was the last person she expected to find herself wanting. But there was something about the way he kissed her, so desperate and demanding, that made her ache for him in a way she'd never thought possible. Her hands found their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. He moaned into the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, and she couldn't help but melt into his embrace.

As they kissed, their hands roamed over each other's bodies, seeking out pleasure in the heat of the moment. Oliver's fingers traced a path down her spine, making her shiver, while she gripped his hair, pulling him closer still. She could feel his erection pressing harder against her, and she knew she had to do something about it. She broke the kiss for a moment, panting heavily, and looked into his eyes. His pupils were so dilated she could hardly see the green. "Oliver," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I want you."

Without waiting for his reply, she straddled his lap, feeling the heat of his body against hers. Oliver's hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them through her sweat-soaked shirt. He groaned, and Y/n arched her back, reveling in the sensation. She reached down, unfastened his pants, and pulled his erection free. Oliver gasped as she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly. She leaned forward, kissing him again, and guided his length towards her. He thrust forward, pushing himself inside her, and she cried out, feeling him stretch her tightly.

They moved together in a frenzy, their bodies slamming together in time with their ragged breathing. The pain was replaced by a white-hot pleasure that coursed through her veins, making her lightheaded. Oliver's fingers dug into her hips, his nails leaving tiny half-moon marks in her skin. She could feel herself getting closer and closer, the orgasm building inside her, threatening to explode. And then, finally, it hit her, washing over her in a wave of pure ecstasy. She arched her back, crying out his name as her inner walls squeezed him in a powerful spasm. Oliver followed her over the edge, his body tense as he let out a hoarse cry and emptied himself inside her.

They collapsed together on the bench, panting heavily. The tension that had been building between them for weeks seemed to dissipate in that moment, leaving only the afterglow of their passionate encounter. Oliver reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead, his fingers trailing down her cheek before coming to rest on her chin. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm sorry I had to wait until now."

Y/n smiled up at him, feeling a shiver of desire run through her. "It was worth the wait," she whispered, running her fingers through his messy hair. "And we still have the rest of the season, you know." At that, Oliver laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made her heart skip a beat. "God, I can't wait to see what else you have in store for me," he said, kissing her softly.

Y/n knew she was utterly fucked. Her and Oliver? Fucked. Hell She just fucked Oliver.

🌟-I'll work on your request soon!

It's 3:50 right now and I have to leave for a trip in a few hours so i'll be away from my computer for a while!

Love you my children -💙

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

<3 omg please

YAY I actually think this is so cute I love perciver so much and they're hardly talked about. This is for @remuslupininskirts my favourite perciver fan <33

Percy's eyes were heavy and his head nodded forward as he tried to process the words on the parchment in front of him. His head was pounding and he was exhausted but he needed to do well on this test, so he pushed on.

"Love, are you still awake?" Percy hears a sleepy voice ask from his place at his desk.

"Yeah, I'll go to bed soon, I promise." he says quietly, his eyes never leaving the words of his textbook even though they are starting to blur together.

He hears shuffling behind him and all of a sudden, there are arms wrapped around his shoulder and a head resting ontop of his.

"Come on, Perce, you've been at it for hours." Oliver mutters into his hair and Percy sighs.

"I know, I know, but I'm almost done, I swear. You know how important this test is to me." Percy's shoulders slump.

"More important than cuddling with your boyfriend?" Percy doesn't even have to see Oliver's face to know that he's pouting and he smiles slightly.

"Come on, love, you'll do great tomorrow. Come and sleep." Oliver's arms tighten around him and Percy finally turns around to face his boyfriend who looks adorably sleepy with his bedhead.

"But Ollie-"

"Nope, no buts, you're coming to sleep so you incredibly handsome boyfriend can cuddle you." Oliver shakes his head and pulls Percy up in one quick motion and Percy stifles a laugh at how Oliver almost falls over from the act.

"Fine, you big oaf, but you have to wake me up when you go for quidditch practice in the morning so I can study some more, alright?" Oliver nods his head appeasingly and pulls Percy down onto the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Percy's lithe frame and burying his face in his neck.

"Thank you for worrying about me. " Percy smiles softly and strokes Oliver's hair and is met with the sound of snores in reply.

[babygirlhaljordan]

pspsps wanted to let u know i’m going to india and the wifi doesn’t work there… so if u have any fic recommendations for me to read. art for me to redraw, or prompts, you want me to write while i’m away! lmk! i got u

[minimindi]

Microfic May Day 15: everything & nothing

This is my closest word count to 50 yet!!!! I’ll get down to 50 words someday lol but it’s damn hard to write so little.

@microficmay

[schmem14]

August 10- Percy & Oliver

Summary: Percy's pretty sure he's not into women... he just has to do some research first. Prompts: Flourish & Blotts, Wizard's Chess Rating: T CW: None WC: 930

Read HERE on AO3

[wood-you-rather-challenge]

We’re kicking the challenge off today! Weeks 1 & 2 (March 1 - 15)

Wood You Rather for 2023 has officially started! We’re starting with Prompt Card #1, which has 4 prompt selections and a total of 8 individual prompts to choose from. You’ll notice prompt cards are themed this year, with this first card being inspired by all the words! A reminder that creators have the option to choose: 1 prompt or both prompts from a selection, a few prompts from various selections, all of the prompts, or none of them from this prompt card. You can also use any prompts from 2022 for this round. Your current prompt selections are:

1. Fight       OR       Flight

—

2. Grand Gestures     OR       Small Things

—

3. Giving       OR       Receiving

—

4. Vintage       OR       Modern

— All works can be posted to Wood You Rather’s 2023 open AO3 collection. If you would like your work to be shared or reblogged, don’t forget to tag @wood-you-rather-challenge and #woodyourather2023. Have fun, and we can’t to see all of your creations over the coming weeks!

[styxhuntress]

Fanfic Idea #2

Rewriting scenes and creating new ones from Harry Potter (or any fandom since it’s universally compatible), but from other characters’ P.O.V.s while keeping them in character and not diverging or contradicting what’s canon.

Examples:

The night Harry’s Parents died from either Lily’s or Voldemort’s POV.

Oliver Wood’s reaction to McGonagall putting Harry on the Team and then their first practice. 

Or Ginny P.O.V. during the Chamber of Secrets. 

Or Sirius and/or Remus P.O.V. during the Prisoner of Azkaban. Or Even Peter Pettigrew’s reaction to Sirius escaping.

Cedric Diggory’s P.O.V. During the Goblet of Fire, 

Draco’s during the Half-Blood Prince, 

Dumbledore during the Order of the Phoenix, 

Voldemort’s during the Deathly Hallows or honestly any of the books/movies. 

Or even scenes with these characters that take place during or even before the books/movies that are never referenced in the books/movies because it’s not Harry’s P.O.V.

And this type of prompt is compatible with any fandom. Which makes it more awesome.

[hpshipuary]

💖 HP Shipuary: Day 7 💖

Ships

Oliver Wood / Alicia Spinnet

Seamus Finnigan / Gilderoy Lockhart

Rose Weasley / Lavender Brown

BYO Ship

Fred Weasley / ?

Daphne Greengrass / ?

Rules • FAQs • Prompts • AO3 Collection

[solarmorrigan]

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

[redheadspark]

Fifth Floor Prt. 1

A/N - I wrote this out and it ended up being SO long! Part two will come soon enough, and that HAS the SMUT in it!

Summary - You and Oliver reunited after the Battle of Hogwarts, and old flames are rekindled again

Warnings - Just some fluff and angst in this part, Part Two is found here

"Alright, make a perch right here,"

Madam Promfrey helped place you on one of the old Great Hall benches, at least the one that wasn't destroyed and still standing.  You groaned a bit, your head throbbing from a wound that was inflicted on the top of your forehead, your energy dropping by the minute and your adrenaline was no longer evident.  The rest of the students and teachers around you were in no better shape either, trying to mend their wounds and unwind from all the chaos that happened within the last several hours.  Not to mention the bodies that were being moved and placed in a secluded area on the other side of the Great Hall.   It was heartbreaking to see, both Death Eater and those in the Order.  They were all the same: lifeless.  But it was worse since some of those bodies were of the students.

You both felt lucky and cursed to be alive.

Coming back to your old school Ala Mater, you wanted it to be more of a blissful reunion and not a bitter one.  But you were called back too, thanks to the enchanted Galleon you were given. The world was already turned upside down when You-Know-Who took over the Ministry of Magic, his followers running around all over Europe to capture half-blooded and muggle-borns, the safety of the medical world was now critical.  You even had to go into hiding since you were a half-born witch, your mother being a witch and your father a muggle.  Luckily, they both were out of the country on Holiday over in America visiting family when the Ministry Fell, and you can get in contact with them to stay across the Pacific until further notice.  

With your parents safe and out of harm's way, you were not focusing on yourself and going into hiding at your cramped little flat.  It was a bit hard, thinking that when you would go to sleep you would be awakened by a Death Eater leering over your little bed with a wand at your throat. Plenty of people were disappearing in the night.  You were glad to have escaped a few close calls, seeing Death Eaters going among the streets in packs and causing chaos for no random reason.  

Thankfully, you learned a thing or two when it came to blending in and staying under the radar.  You kept your eyes on your neighbors, especially the older couple that had no one else to turn to.  Thankfully, they were not a target to any Death Eaters or even the Ministry of Magic.  They would go for anyone, and to make sure you were not a min target, you made sure any communication with anyone was going to be minimal.

Yet the one person who you were still talking to since you graduated together, was Oliver Wood. 

Being from the same House and in the same year, you both were thick as thieves throughout your years at Hogwarts and in Gryffindor House.  Ever since you were first years, you and Oliver were sticking together when it came to classes and studying.  It was nice to have another friend in your year since you were on the shy side, though Oliver was a bit cockier and a sports enthusiast.  Especially with Quidditch, which was his obsession and life. 

Speaking of which, you saw him helping bring in some of the bodies of the fallen to the corner of the Great Hall, placing them gently on the ground and covering their bodies with some of the blankets from the Hospital Wing.  He too looked worn from the Battle: his clothes were disheveled and covered in dust, and blood was evident along his jaw and a bit in his hair.  But you were glad he was walking around and alive, in a much better state than others.  It made you smile, seeing him alive and alert.

The older you two got while at school, the deeper your friendship was going, and with the deep friendship, you developed feelings for him came along too.  You had no clue when it happened, whether it was your 4th or 5th year when it shifted, but you started to look at him in a different light.  How he would fly as the Keeper on the quidditch team, you watched him a pinch longer during practice or a heated match against Slytherin.  You two were still friends, going to Hogsmeade on certain weekends to get butterbeer and catch up together, or go out on the ground studying together for Potions or Herbology.  

You were catching feelings, whether you liked it or not.

"Hey!"  You saw him make his way over to you, weaving his way around the other survivors who were walking around and trying to catch their breath.  His eyes were right on you, and you gave him a small smile as he finally sat down next to you.  Before you could say anything, he engulfed you in his arms, you clinging onto him while you both were sighing in relief and happiness that you both were alive.  

You were beyond glad to see him there with all his limbs and functioning, the last time you saw him was still in the wee hours of the morning and he was making his way over to the courtyard with some of the other Quidditch players,  You were taking one at least two Death Eaters that were trying to kill a group of 1st years that were caught in the middle of battle and couldn't hide out in time. Of course, the rest of the night you were thinking about Oliver and if he was okay, if he was going to make it to the morning and survive that whole ordeal.

He did, and you two were reuniting again.

"You okay?" He asked as he pulled away abruptly and scanned your appearance frantically, "Nothin' broken?!"

"I'm okay.  I promise I'm okay," You reassured him as he gave you another hug, this one felt gentler and a pinch intimate.  Just being hugged by Oliver alone made you feel at peace for the first time since you arrived at the school on the threshold of chaos and death.  His hugs always made you feel calm through a storm, peacefulness in a chaotic world, and most of all love in a lonely time.  No matter how many times you two hugged, whether it was a simple hug or something more intense, you felt love. 

You both again pulled away and you took in a long breath, looking away from Oliver for a moment, seeing the Great Hall still trying to heal and digest all that happened.  People were weeping, others were clinging onto each other in hopes of feeling consoled, and the rest were simply sitting, saying nothing with longing gazes on their faces.

"I can't believe that happened," You said in a long exhale, tapping your fingers rapidly on your leg as Oliver was watching you carefully and with a hint of concern, "He almost killed all of us, didn't he?"

You-Know-Who, filled with rage and power that it seemed that you were losing hope in winning this war.  All of the horror stories you knew about him and his followers were in effect that night. You knew it would take some time for you to heal, you didn't know if it'd take months or years, but you weren't the only one.  Everyone in that room would need to heal.

"Aye, but I'm glad we're all alive," Oliver murmured next to you, sitting back a bit on the bench, "Thanks to Harry,"

You gave a small smile at the mention of the Boy Who Lived, remembering him as merely a fellow Gryffindor and someone who flew with Oliver on the Quidditch Team.  You've ran into him a few times, being one of the plenty who knew of his story before he even did.  But he was kind, a bit brash at times but kind and willing to stand up to the bullies.  Harry Potter was a true Gryffindor, and for him to lead the battle against the very Dark Lord who tried to kill him as a baby, he was beyond brave.

"Thanks to Harry," You repeated as Oliver shifted in his spot.  He gave you a serious look.

"Where are your folks?" He asked, you rolling your shoulders.

"In America, visiting my Aunt and Grandfather," You replied, "They left two weeks before the Ministry fell, and I told them not to come back,"

"Good," He replied in relief.  Oliver met your parents a few times, the first time was at Platform 9 and 3/4 when you were going back to Hogwarts for your second year.  Your mum and dad thought of Oliver as a great fiend inviting him to come to your home over the summer once or two to both use your backyard to train for quidditch together and to simply talk quidditch with your dad.  

"Your folks?" You asked him with a raised brow.

"Fine.  They…um.. they went into hiding as I did, but they're safe with some old colleagues of theirs," Oliver explained to you, you smiling in return.

"I've always liked your mum and dad," You stated, "They've always been so kind to me, especially your mum.  And your dad is just like you,"

"Or I'm just like my da?" Oliver asked as you smiled and shrugged.

"Don't know, but I'm not complaining," You joked half-heartedly, hearing him laugh in return.  Such an odd thing to do at a time like this, almost dying from Voldemort, almost seeing the school that you grew up and loved become dust.  Yet you two were laughing as if you'd never parted after graduation.  Some people were looking over at you in confusion, wondering why two young adults covered in dust and blood were laughing like teenagers all over again.  

But it felt good to laugh, it felt good to let that emotion come through like a wave that was crashing on the shore.  You remembered laughing like this with him when you two would study together in the Common Room, or chat side by side during dinner in the very Great Hall you two were at.  You missed this, being with your old best friend and not having a care or worry in the world.

For the briefest of moments, you forgot about the war and how you almost died.  

After the laughing died down and you two were quiet again, Oliver looked down at his attire and grimaced a bit, "I don't know how much dust I have on my blazer,"

"Me neither," You agreed, looking at your coat and noticing all that it took on with the battles.  Some wear and tear along your sleeves, your shirt ripped at the bottom from a Dead Eater nearly ripping it off of you while you were trying to escape, blood splattered along your pants and boots that you threw on, and even your hair was a bit matted and barely staying together from the braid it was in over your shoulder.

The last thing you wanted to do was move from the bench you were on since it felt like you could fall over in exhaustion, but you also wanted to scrub down all the filth from your skin.  Your mind didn't know what you wanted to do, and thinking of traveling back to your small cramped apartment seemed too stressful.  

"I need to wash this off," You grumbled, flicking off some dry blood that was stuck on your thumb.

"And I doubt there's anything here in the castle to rinse off in," Oliver added in agreement, then pausing with a tense look on his face.  You looked back at him with a questioning gaze.  You knew that look on his face, plenty of times in the past when he had a bright idea, whether it was during Quidditch practice or knowing what to do in his homework.

"What?" You asked him, seeing him then gaze at you while pointing to the Great Hall doors that were barely propped open and showing the battered hallway.

"You think the fifth floor is still intact?"  He asked you, having you cock your head at him.

"The fifth floor?" 

Oliver got the door open, with a gentle nudge of his shoulder as he had to give it a shove.  After you followed him through the small opening of the door, your eyes went wide from the site in front of you.  Of course, with some debris everywhere and a few cracks in the wall and windows, most of the room itself was mildly damaged from the battle.  Perhaps there was some enchantment in this room, with all the minor damages that were evident all around the room.  You had no clue, you've only heard of this place through some gossip with some friends.

The Prefect Bathroom. 

A massive tub that took up half of the room itself was built into the ground, aligned with cool step stones and marble that wrapped around and melted into the stone walls.  Stain glass windows that were floor to ceiling were on the other side of the tub, different shades of greens and blues illuminating the room from the sun that was already rising over the Scotland mountains and countryside near Hogwarts.  

Along another wall, there were facets, dozens upon dozens of bronzed facets perched over the tub ready for use.  A shelf that was splintered had some white towels that were tossed to the floor, along with some vials that looked to have stored oils and perhaps scented substances for use in baths.

Shocked was not a word you would use in your everyday vocabulary, but this time you were going to have to use it.

"Merlin's Beard," You gasped as Oliver walked over to where the facets were, you were scanning the whole room as Oliver was checking the damage of the tub.  The surprise and shock of this massive room were still reeling in your mind, you've never seen any kind of bathroom like this in your life.  The ones in your old dorm back in Gryffindor Tower had no tubs, simply shower stalls that were decent enough.  But this tub was the size of your entire bathroom at your home.  

"How do you know about this bathroom?" You asked him as he was kneeling next to the facets and scanning the tub.

"Quidditch Captains get access along with the Prefects and Head Boys and Girls," He explained, "You don't know how many times I would hide out here and soak in this tub after a match,"

"No wonder you fled after the games rather quickly," You hummed as you were staring at the gorgeous stained glass over the tub, the image of a Mermaid from the Black Lake was along the glass and looked hauntingly beautiful.  

"Let's test it out, shall we?" Oliver asked, you looking over at him with a hint of shock as he was turning a few of the facets.  Some gurgles were heard, and you thought that the facets were going to be broken and water wouldn't come out. Sure enough, a huge flow of water was coming through at least 5 facets.  Oliver chuckled turning a few more facets with ease.

"What if someone sees us in here?" You questioned in worry, looking at the door that led out of the room thinking someone was going to walk in on you and Oliver in the Prefect's Bathroom.  Of course, you two were grown adults, not longer students at Hogwarts, but it would still be a bit of a shocker if a passerby happened to stumble on the pair of you alone together.  You were no prude, but you would hate to be caught in an awkward situation.  

Oliver gave you a raised brow and a glare, "You think anyone's gonna wander up here after what just happened here at school?  To the Prefect Bathroom of all places?!" 

You glared, "You know what I mean,"

"Aye I do, and you're a bit paranoid," He replied, you huffing and pointing to the running water from the enchanted faucets.

"How is it still working?" You asked in shock as you watched the water flow into the massive tub.  Each facet was giving out a different color in the water but once it was in the tub, it was all clear again.  

"Don't know, but I'm not goin' to complain," Oliver huffed as he sighed and stood back up.  Walking over to you, Oliver cleared his throat and gestured to the tub that was being filled up with hot water, "I'll just…umm…let you go first."

You blushed and fiddled with your fingers.  Now hitting another wall In this situation, taking turns in a bath with your old best friend.  It was already risky enough for you to be venturing amongst the school grinds, right after a massive battle that almost took out the entire castle.  

But another risk was being there with Oliver, the very Quidditch Captain that you both adored as a friend and secretly had a crush on.  No matter if you two were adults, covered in blood and dirt, still running on adrenaline and stress from nearly a handful of times within a few hours, exhausted in both fatigue and mental pain, you were getting those butterflies in your stomach again.  Just like you were teenagers, sitting together during a meal or in a study session, those fleeting emotions seemed to be coming back on overdrive.

Perhaps you were thankful he was alive and with you, finding you in a massive crowd of survivors and making sure you were okay and safe.  Or maybe it was the fact he reached out to you hours before everything happened, telling you Harry was calling all of the ex-Quidditch players to help defend Hogwarts.  You were both barely in contact with each other since you graduated, and seeing him at your doorstep with that glint in his eye and the look of panic and pain on his face.

But you would follow him anywhere, even if it meant into battle.  Placing your life on the line for the sake of helping your old friends defend the school you grew to love. Oliver had a way about him, the way of being able to give you a sense of security and vulnerability that no one else could ever do.  He knew your deepest secrets but held them to his heart with no sign of exposing them to others, his own unique joy and humor made you laugh more than anyone else ever could.  

There was no denial for you, you did love Oliver.

"Thank you," You replied, seeing him give you a small smile.  He was about to walk past you, leaving you in the Prefect Bathroom when you suddenly grabbed his arm.  Oliver stopped, looking at you as if something was wrong.  But you were giving him a kind smile, still holding his arm gently within your fingers and remaining close enough to almost feel the heat radiating off his skin.  It made you wonder if he could hear your heartbeat going up a bit faster.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice was low and subtle, almost sounding gravely, and yet warmth was mixed in his tone.  

"I'm just….I'm glad we're both okay and alive," You said in a stammer, Oliver saying nothing but staring down at you, "Mostly, I'm glad you're okay,"

Oliver gulped, giving you a short nod, "I'm glad you're here too,"

"And I know we haven't talked in a long time since we left Hogwarts, but you were my best friend.  All of the best memories I have ever had within these walls were because of you.  I never had a chance to tell you, and I wanted to tell you now," You explained with no hesitation in your voice.  It was selling out of you before you could stop yourself or dial it down. 

"I'm just glad we're both alive and that I told you how I felt.  It would have killed me if I didn't," You said calmly, then being a bit bold by leaning up a bit on your tiptoes and giving him a gentle kiss on his cheek.  It was brief, the fog that would roll over the Black Lake outside of the castle on an early Autumn morning.  But the feeling alone made you feel experience sparks under your skin, that teenage sensation was back tenfold as you were about to turn back around and grab one of the towels that seemed decent to use.  

Oliver turned you back around with a gentle grab on your arm, kissing you soundly on the lips.

You've been kissed before, yet not like this.  This felt like a new level of a kiss, his chapped lips along your own that almost shuttered from the sensation.  Other kisses felt clumsy or out of place, maybe failed attempts to make you feel swooned.  You hated those kisses, they seemed uneasy and stumbled.  But not this.

This felt like the sensation of flying on your broom for the first time, drinking a butterbeer on a cold winter day in Hogsmeade, and the feeling of snow touching your cheeks during the first snowfall.  Kissing your best friend, the one friend who was your true north and compass in the bad times, the one friend who knew how to make you laugh and feel overjoyed, and the one friend who was your number one fan and supporter in any choice you made.  

He pulled away slightly, you still in a daze from that simple touch of the lips as you slowly opened your eyes and watched him gaze at you.  With him being slightly taller than you, his brown orbs were pouring into yours as he was almost wishing to read your mind.  

But you knew that the same broke inside of you.

"Merlin," You whispered, leaning back up and kissing him back.

You both melted into one another, hands grasping each other's clothes as Oliver kissed you over and over as if he was both starving and yet taking his time with you.  You were letting him, his fingers brushing along your neck as he cradled your face close to kiss you soundly, his body pressing against you with the right amount of pressure that your head was spinning.  Everything about Oliver was consuming you, your fingers were clinging onto his blazer in fear that he was going to drift away from you. He wouldn't, you knew that deep down that he wouldn't leave you like this.  

One of his arms moved from your neck to lower your body, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in tightly as his kisses evolved into deeper and more sensual kisses.  It felt like a drug was kicking in with no sign of slowing down, maybe the knowledge of almost losing each other hours before when the castle was in flames and people were dying around you was still igniting in you.  

Before you both knew it, hands were roaming as you were leaning into him more and more. His hands moved to strip off your jacket letting it fall to the ground in a heap as your tongue moved out to trace his lower lip.  A small sharp inhale was heard from him, his fingers were dancing along your worn down shirt and his other set of fingers were digging into your hair while your hands attempting to push off his blazer.  Oliver grinned against our lips, moving his hands away for his blue blazer stained in blood and grime was now on the ground. 

"What are we doin'?" He asked against your lips as you kissed his hotly and smiled. 

"What we should have been doing for some time," You murmured back as his arms were around you again.  

"Aye, we should have done this a long time ago," He confessed as he pulled away again to look down at you again. You saw how plump his lips were, his dilated his brown eyes looked, and even the flush on his skin and cheeks.  This was a unique look on Oliver, who always seemed to have his cool and calm demeanor even the most stressful of times.  But now he looked undone, stripped open and bare, and it was all from kissing you.

"I think this is crazy," you admitted with a soft smile, though the smile on Oliver's face never left as he shook his head.  

"We just survived a war at the hands of Voldemort, and you think snoggin' in the prefect's bathroom is crazy?" He asked you in a breath, you staring deep into his eyes and seeing him reach into his back pocket where his wand was snug in.  With a twist of his wrist, you heard the door snapping shut and locking automatically.

"What's crazy, is that I never said a word about how I felt about you all those years we were friends," He explained with a gulp, his eyes never leaving yours as he went on, "I was afraid to say anythin', but not anymore.  I wanna be with ya, only ya, and after what we went through last night, I'm not lettin' ya go,"

You would have melted to the floor from hearing those words from Oliver, and you knew then and there you would never be able to let him go either.

Reaching down to retrieve your wand that was on the floor with your blazer, not losing your gaze on Oliver who was still giving you an alluring gaze, you licked your lips and gripped your wand tightly.  Finally, you turned around and aimed at the door.  With a flick of the wrist, magic shot out of your wand and landed against the door and the wall, giving a shimmering light.

“What did ya do?” Oliver asked in a tentative tone, thought you grinned and looked back at him with a soft grin.

“Imperturbable Charm” You answered, seeing him  grin widely as you dropped your wand onto your jacket that was on the floor.

“Bloody Hell,”

To Be Continued....

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Your prompt request #13 "not here... not now..."

In the midst of a battle between two kingdoms, you go into labor. While the city breaks into chaos, you try to escape while trying to deny the birth.

Female character can either deliver the child deep in the woods while on the run or hiding in the rubble, trying to keep quiet as she births her child.

You choose! And thank you for choosing to make an account for your wonderful work! Obsessed with your first fic! 🫶

Not Now… Not Here…

[This was one of the first asks/prompts I received and made me so happy to have created this side blog. Thank you so much Anon for your request and your kind words at the end. Hope you enjoy! 💜 Fpreg 2917 words & Beta’d by the wonderful @gravid-transluna ]

Marion stood by the open window in her bedroom, hands braced against the window sill, as she watched the billows of smoke and the sounds of screaming get closer and closer to home. Tensions had been building between Alleria and its neighbouring kingdom for many years and it had only been a matter of time before one of the Kings ordered their troops to attack. The battle had been raging for days… weeks now, with news from the frontlines making it back to the city as the wounded returned. Unfortunately for the residents in Alleria the battleground was moving ever closer towards the city, and for Marion this was even more unfortunate for she was currently deep in the throes of labour.

She gripped the wooden ledge below her window and bounced her knees and hips through the latest contraction.

“Mnnnnhhhhh… oh little one, you have a terrible sense of ti— ohhhhhh… timing.” Marion moaned softly, her hips swaying instinctively as the tightening coursed across her middle while the weight of the baby’s head filled her pelvis.

When the contraction had faded back into a dull ache Marion looked up again at the city slowly falling to the destruction of war. The smoke seemed closer than it had an hour ago, the battleground was heading right across the city in the direction of her home. The pains had started yesterday but were manageable back then - she could continue moving around and getting everything prepared for the birth. The war was far from the city at that point and it did not occur to Marion that she would not be safe to labour and birth here - Alleria had never allowed their borders to be penetrated before, but the invading Kingdom’s forces were too strong.

Marion held the underside of her heavy and tight belly, her thin olive green dress stretched around her enlarged middle. She had never given birth before but had helped in many a delivery around the town. It was a rite of passage for a woman to deliver her children - the men-folk would almost never be present while the labouring mother would be supported by female friends, family or neighbours.

Marion didn’t have any of those but she wasn’t phased to be doing this alone - she preferred things that way. However, as she looked down through her window at the empty and deserted street below, fear and panic began to claw at her thoughts. Perhaps she should flee the city as well. A loud scream and sound of metal against metal echoed through the streets. The battle was getting closer, she needed to leave. Now.

Grabbing a canvas bag Marion quickly threw some items inside; blanket, clothes, water, food. As she was frantically waddling around her small rented room another contraction hit out of nowhere only minutes after the last.

“Hoooooooo— oh fuck….” Marion doubled over and braced her thighs as the pressure and pain skyrocketed. Her pelvis was being pulled apart as the baby’s head shoved its way through, almost certainly at the top of her cervix by now. The immeasurable weight and pressure was overwhelming and Marion found herself grunting against it.

“Mnnghhhh!!!” Marion growled, but the sound was swallowed by a loud explosion coming from a few streets away.

“Ooooh… so— so low. Don’t come now baby, just a— a little bit longer.” She pleaded to her rounded belly, holding it with both hands as she straightened back up. Grabbing her bag of supplies Marion bolted for the door to the stairs at the back of the building. She had to get out of here, get herself far away from the incoming battleground before she delivered this babe.

The stairs were awkward and difficult to descend with her dangerously wide gait from an extremely low baby. But Marion eventually made it down to street level and looked around; there was no one left - everyone had already fled. She waddled as fast as she could in the opposite direction from the rising cries of battle, her hands holding up her taut and tensing belly as if her grip alone could stop her labour. Marion was too busy worrying about safe routes out of the city to realise the next contraction was fast approaching and when it struck she found herself dropping into a deep squat in the middle of the cobbled street.

“Grrrrrrrhhhhh….! Oh Gods… So— so much pressure!” She groaned, her bag of supplies slipping from her shoulder as she squatted and grabbed her knees. Instinctively she mooed and growled her way through the latest wave, each one seeming to strike with more ferocity than the last. Marion would be self-conscious making such a public display of her labouring but with the streets deserted she allowed herself to make whatever noises she needed to get her through the pain of childbirth.

Eventually it passed, but the delay in her movements meant the sounds of battle were only a stone's throw away. The harsh sounds of doors and windows smashing echoed off the buildings and Marion thought she could hear incoming heavy footsteps. If the owners of the heavy stomps were just of Allerian troops then she would be okay but, if they were of the invading forces there was no telling what they would do with a woman wandering alone on the streets. The clinking of swords colliding got louder. Both troops were getting closer. Marion could not get caught in the crossfire - she’d be as good as dead.

She ran, as fast as her wide legs could carry her, away from the brutal fighting. She barely made it round the corner down a narrow side street when she was forced to stop once more. Slumped against the brick wall, Marion curled around her hard belly and trembled as she struggled to stay upright. The heavy boulder of a baby’s head was right there, filling her birth canal with so much pressure she thought she might explode. There was no stopping the primal grunt that rattled her throat as every muscle seemed to contract and squeeze the baby towards its exit.

“Nnghhhhh!!!” She roared against the pain and it was immediately followed by a gush of warm liquid running down her thighs and splashing the beige cobbles underfoot. At the tail end of the contraction she felt it - deep in her genes an instinct was telling her to start pushing.

“No….” She whimpered. “Not now… not here… hoohoo-hoohoo…” Marion panted erratically, fighting against her body’s advancing labour.

When the contraction somewhat eased the mother-to-be staggered bowlegged down the deserted side street, the large head shoving its way through her cervix. She made it through to the next street over but Marion had no clue where she was going, no planned destination she was trying to reach. Instead she was just desperately waddling as far away as she could from the noise of battle. She thought she had more time to find an alternate place to give birth but the increasing weight and pressure between her legs was soon proving her wrong. Out in the open of this new street she doubled over against a shop window - palms flat on the glass, her hips jutting backwards and her heavy belly hanging towards the floor.

“Ohhhhhh… no, don’t push… don’t— mnghhh don’t p-p-push…” she chanted over and over, panting and sweating and shaking while the baby inside sank lower and lower.

Running and shouting and screaming could be heard from the end of the street. Marion, still caught in the midst of a powerful contraction, glanced down the road towards the sound and saw at least a dozen men rounding the corner. Their metal plated armour, the colours of their tunics, their pale faces - none of it was familiar. These were enemy soldiers. The labouring mother slipped around a corner to hide down another side street, her legs stuck so wide it looked like she was about to drop the kid any second. And it felt that way too. With one hand holding onto the wall, the other disappeared under her dress between her thighs. No baby yet, thankfully, but she was starting to bulge into her underwear.

Deep and gruff shouting echoed from the high street, the invading warriors were jeering and smashing everything in their path. Despite the continuing contraction, Marion shuffled a little further into the alleyway, into the shadows and tried to hide behind some broken wooden crates. The soldiers were shouting in a language she didn’t understand, but the tone of their rough voices were clear - they were winning this war.

One… three… seven… Marion looked through the gap in the crates counting the foreign soldiers as they stomped past the entrance to the narrow side street, the burly and primitive men kicking and smashing and destroying every single thing they passed.

The next contraction ramped up before the last had even faded away and Marion slapped a hand over her mouth to stop any sounds escaping. Her baby was insistent, desperate to be born. The pressure screamed at her to push and her stance instinctively widened, but as she moved her foot she kicked something hard and metal sending it tumbling across the cobbles with a clang.

Her heart stopped, her breathing seized. Marion’s eyes flared with panic and looked nervously through the gap in the wooden crates towards the entrance of the side street. There was no way that sound wasn’t noticeable, a second later Marion’s fears were realised when two strange looking men stood at the archway of the dark sidestreet, staring into the shadows looking for the source of the noise.

Push!

Marion stayed perfectly still, her hand squeezed over her mouth, her nose breathing as silently as humanly possible. She could not let them find her, Gods only knew what they would do to her, especially if they had conquered Alleria.

Push!

The contraction still tore across her body, her belly contorted into a solid, hard ball beneath her dress as it tried to deliver the child. The pressure between her thighs was making her eyes water, the weight was pulling everything downwards, and her vagina was starting to burn. And yet Marion remained still, not moving an inch.

Push!

The men were talking to themselves, grumbling incoherently in their foreign tongue, pointing and staring down the narrowed cobbled strip. Marion’s legs were trembling, her knees sinking, and as she held her breath in fear of discovery she realised too late that her body was pushing. Without instruction or permission the baby was shoved down the birth canal, feeling like it was seconds away from falling into her underwear. But she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself from bearing down. Behind her sweaty palm Marion’s mouth opened in a silent scream as she pushed and immediately could feel her labia starting to part beneath her clothing.

Oh fuck! Marion thought, trying to stop the impossible. Please don’t come out now!

She fought against her instincts for the longest minute of her life, desperately trying not to push and trying to stay silent. Eventually the strange men lost interest, deciding nothing was hiding down this side street, and continued to ransack the surrounding shops with their fellow soldiers. Marion slumped back against the wall when the soldier's departure coincided with the slight easing of the contraction. With heavy breaths quieter than a whisper, she tried to regain a normal rhythm in her lungs.

This baby could not be born now, here, it had to hold on for her to get somewhere safe. Away from the carnage of war and away from her foes. Then there was a sudden bang, a moving wall of heat, and a victorious cheer coming from the adjacent street - the enemy had started burning buildings causing a giant explosion.

Debris flew through the air, shards of brick and building raining from the skies and Marion spun around, curling around her bump, to protect herself and the baby. She staggered, bowlegged, deeper down the dark alleyway to try to get away from the destruction but with the contractions almost on top of each other she barely made four unsteady steps before she had to pause. The baby was right there, she could feel it. Her hand dived between her legs to check and felt with her fingertips the spherical shape between her folds peaking into her undergarments. The primal need to give birth took over once more and whether she wanted to or not, Marion found herself bearing down with the contraction.

This baby could not be born, not now and not here. If she could not stop pushing she would have to find another way. With her hand wedged between her thighs she clamped it firmly over the mass in her sodden underwear, and with a low grunt she was uncontrollably pushing against the palm of her own hand.

“Nnghhhh— noooo.. don’t c-come o-outtttt…” she growled, her body pushing ferociously and she could feel the head slip forward.

In the shadows Marion grunted and heaved and pushed. Against these efforts she tried to keep her palm over the emerging head to prevent it coming out any further. Her legs were wide and trembling, the heavy mass between her hips forcing her pelvis apart. It was hell, being stuck like this, her labia stretching around the emerging head, the desperate need to get this over with - to deliver this baby. The placement of her own hand proved futile, her body outright refusing to do anything that could delay or prevent the birth. Instead her knees buckled, sinking into a deep squat, and her free hand flew forward to brace her labouring body against the rough bricks of the dark alley while the other hand cupped the head of the incoming babe.

“Ohhhhh fuck…” her groans barely audible, all efforts going into birth. “Oh Gods… help me… it’s coming— it’s coming o-outtt!”

The hand at the apex of her thighs was supporting the head rather than stopping it from coming out. She gasped, sucking in a desperate breath, and leaned into the push giving everything she had into bearing down. She sobbed as the head reached a full crown in her underwear, its large shape undeniable and filling her small palm. The clothing was damp and stretched but she couldn’t remove them, both hands were occupied - one holding her upright in the squat the other holding the emerging head. “Grrnnnhhhhh!!” The low and primal groan of effort rattled the back of her throat and ever so slowly the head was born into her palm.

Smoke was filling the city, homes and shops were on fire, the enemy’s army was tearing her home apart. Loud and sudden blasts echoed down the alleyway, shaking the streets and buildings all around her. Marion fell forward, scrambling on all fours to get away from danger, all the while her baby’s head hung from her body filling her underwear. The rough cobbled street grazed and cut her knees as she crawled further down the side street, desperate to find some shelter. Fluids were leaking from her opening leaving a trail of damp in her wake. She found a door, indented slightly into the brick wall. She tried the handle but it was locked. A cry of fear and frustration left her lungs as she pounded and pushed against the wooden door.

The baby wasn’t waiting for safety or shelter, the next contraction was soon taking hold and she rocked on all fours in the alcove, humming an instinctual noise as the baby’s shoulders started to press against her opening.

“D-don’t…. No….” Marion panted and pleaded with her body.

But her hips sank backwards and she was uncontrollably pushing once more, grunting with every wave as her body worked on expelling the child. “Mnnnghhhhhhh it— it’s coming… I can’t— stop p-p-pushingggggg!!!”

Marion clawed at the door bringing herself up on her knees as the shoulders stretched her opening wide. The baby was waiting for no one and it was coming out right into her underwear. Her fingernails dug deep into the wooden door, her hips sinking towards the floor and she roared with the effort of bearing down, of pushing the baby’s shoulders out of her body. She could feel everything as it slipped out - one shoulder, the next shoulder, its arms and hands and torso as it emerged into her undergarments. Marion managed to prise her hands from the door and scrambled with her clothing to free the path for her baby to enter this world. Pulling the underwear down a few inches she grunted with the desperate final push and the baby suddenly slipped from her body into her hands.

“Ahhh oh Gods… you’re here, you’re out….” Marion gasped, pulling the newborn straight to her chest and sitting back onto her heels. “Hello little one.” The baby shifted and squirmed in her arms and released the softest cry of a first breath.

Exhausted, Marion turned and slumped against the doorway, babe in arms. The sound of crying soon travelled down the side street and footsteps approached. Fear filled Marion’s heart, the enemy was approaching and both she and her baby were defenceless.

“Oh my goodness, is that a baby?” Came a gruff voice above her. She looked up frightened, but when she saw the familiar uniform colour and the warm caramel skin of an Allerian soldier Marion let out a relieved sob.

“Come on Miss, I’ll get you and your baby out of here.” He said kindly.

[slytherweasley]

Concussion (Oliver Wood x reader)

Warnings: smut, oral male receiving, swearing

Summary: Oliver gets knocked out after being thrown off his broom by a Slytherin. You stay by his side but his concussion makes him irritable. He’s in so much pain you decide to take care of him.

Oliver lays on the hospital bed still knocked out after being thrown off his broom by a Slytherin at todays game. You sit by his side rubbing his scalp trying to soothe him in hope he will awaken. You were frozen in fear as you watched him fall, you couldn’t get up to see if he was okay until others from the crowd assured you he was alive.

Slowly Oliver’s eyes begin to open, his team mates are also here to show support for their captain. He groans in pain and Madam Pomfrey rushes to his aid. Once the team had given him their best wishes she sent them off so he could have some space.

You stayed by his side the whole time, you tried to cheer him up in every way you could think but he was short with you. “Oli, do you want me to go?” You ask softly “No stay” he says holding your hand firmly “i am in a lot of pain so I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings it’s not my intention” “I know, it’s okay” he reaches up slightly but you meet him with a kiss.

Madam Pomfrey releases him from the hospital wing and gives you everything you need as well as instructions on how to take care of him. He refuses to be wheeled in a wheelchair so you put your arm around him and let him lean on you as you walk to his dorm.

Oliver is well liked which is why it wasn’t a surprise that everyone wanted to talk to him but you tried to get him to his dorm as quick and safely as possible. You finally get him there and into bed “thank you darling” he kisses your forehead as you stack pillows behind him.

Once he is comfortable you organise his meds and everything he needs. “Darling?” He asks “Yes, Oli?” “Can you come cuddle? It will help my pain.”

He makes some space for you and you get into bed with him and try to adjust the pillows but he hits his head on the bed post “fuck” he yells “shit, baby I’m so sorry” you gently rub his head “stop. Just stop” he yells. “I’m sorry, I failed at everything” you mumble “I know you’re trying to help and you’re doing a great job, it’s just these pain meds are only doing so much.”

He pulls you into a hug “you didn’t fail at this, you could never fail at comforting me.” Something about the way he assured you created a solution to help him feel better.

You let go of the hug “I promise I won’t fuck this up” you say “fuck what up?” He asks as you lift his shirt up halfway pressing kisses down his stomach. Your fingers slide into his pants and start to palm him over his underwear “fuck darling” he groans as you feel him getting hard underneath your touch.

Your hand slip underneath his underwear as you begin to jerk him off slowly “feels good” he assures you “I love it when you touch me like this.”

You stop jerking him off to get rid of his pants and underwear letting his dick free. Your spit on his dick letting your saliva run down the base down to his balls “Oh darling, you are going to be the death of me.”

Your lips wrap around the head and you start sucking and swirling your tongue around the head tasting his precum and letting out a moan. Slowly you begin moving further down until your nose hits his mound. Oliver’s moans become louder and needier which makes you incredibly wet but you focus solely on Oliver.

Your hands massage his balls, he goes wild every time you pay attention to his balls. “Fuck darling, that’s it.” You start to move faster on his dick your eyes start to water and drool goes down your chin, you can hear the sounds coming from the back of your throat that Oliver is obsessed with.

“So good for me darling, I’m so close” this prompts you to do everything you can to keep going. “Fuck, I’m really close, you got to pull out if you don’t want me cumming down your throat” he warns but that’s what you want.

“Ah so good darling” he says as he cums in your mouth. You swallow and gently remove your mouth from his dick. “Thank you” he kisses your forehead “so much better than pain meds, do you need me to repay you?” He asks as you help him out his boxers on “No, it’s about you my love, I’ll manage as long as you are okay.”

You lay down carefully beside him facing him with your lips almost touching, he wraps his arms around you. “I don’t deserve you” he mumbles against your lips “yes you do” you close your eyes and lazily kiss him.

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @thedarkstrategist from this ask meme: [ 🛁 ] - running them a bath, Shadowzel.

-----

“She is in pain,” Lae’zel says, pacing back and forth before the bar on the Elfsong’s bottom floor. The ale Karlach purchased for her sits undrunk on the wood bartop; she seems to have forgotten its existence. “And it is a pain I do not know how to soothe,” she growls. “It is maddening.”

“Yeah,” Karlach says, watching Lae’zel’s quick, restless movements with an air of sympathy. “Fucking sucks, when someone you care about is hurting. And this kind of hurt… whoof.” She breathes out, rattling her lips heavily. “I lost my parents, back before the Hells, but at least they went… normally, y’know? Bad fever, overturned cart. Things like that happen to people. This, what she had to do… that’s a whole different ball game…”

“This is not helping,” Lae’zel says curtly.

“I’m commiserating,” Karlach says with a slight shrug. “I don’t really have an answer for you. ‘s not the sort of thing you fix.”

Lae’zel comes to an abrupt halt and turns to face Karlach directly. “There must be something,” she says. “I--” She breaks off abruptly and scowls down at the battered slats of the floor. “You know of these things,” she mutters. “I do not. I must have your help.”

“These things?” Karlach cocks her head slowly to one side.

A pause. Lae’zel flushes, her jaw working with frustration at the struggle to articulate her own feelings. “Romance,” she finally says carefully. Another pause, then suddenly rapid, “No. Not romance. Something more. The gentleness that comes with it. I feel the need for it, but do not know…” She falters, her ears flushing a deep olive. “I do not know what to do.”

“Oh.” Karlach would be tempted to smile, were it not for the fact that Lae’zel looks so terribly agitated. “Well, I’ll let you in on the first secret I know,” she says, “which is that we’re all making this the fuck up as we go along. I certainly am.” She nudges the barstool next to her with her boot toe. “C'mon, sit down."

Lae'zel sits abruptly, a soldier obeying orders. Karlach studies her for a moment thoughtfully. "Y'know," she says slowly after a little while, "sometimes when my engine's real bad, Hec'll just... do things for me. Just so I don't have to. Get my dinner served up, or clean out my armor, that sort of thing. And it helps." She rubs at her jaw. "I think, with this sort of shit... it's not about fixing. Not really. It's about... just being there, and holding some of the weight. Helping her keep living, while she sorts it all out."

Lae'zel considers this with narrowed eyes. "Yes," she says slowly.

Karlach's teeth flash in a cautious grin. "We've got a proper bathroom in our rooms upstairs now. You could draw her a bath, bring her dinner after... give her a night not having to think about anything."

Lae'zel nods. "Yes," she repeats. Her whole body is stock-still except for her fingertips which fidget almost imperceptibly against the floral-carved edge of the bar. 

Karlach's smile softens. "The way Hec tells it - it'll make you feel better too," she says gently. "Maybe feel a little less like your head's eating itself alive." She claps Lae'zel on the shoulder. "Look. We're gonna make this happen," she says. "And I'll help. She likes night orchids, right? I'm gonna go right now over to Bonecloaks and shake that woman down for every blossom she's got, and then Jaheira and me'll take the boys off on an adventure for a while. Leave the rooms upstairs all yours till, say, ten o'clock?"

She doesn't expect thanks - the whole crew, by now, is well aware that Lae'zel doesn't tend to say it out loud. What she does get, though, is a sudden tight grip on her forearm from the gith's long-fingered hand; a gesture of camaraderie - or perhaps the clinging of a drowning woman to a driftwood life raft. "That is... generous," Lae'zel mutters.

"Just doing my part to make love bloom," Karlach says airily.

Lae’zel flinches, her color deepening again. “We have not spoken of love,” she says stiffly.

Karlach lifts her eyebrows innocently. “Oh, are we not saying that part out loud yet?” she asks.

“Kainyank…” Lae’zel grumbles, rolling her eyes - but Karlach notices she doesn’t argue the point.

-----

Shadowheart sits on the bed, leaning against the window, her knees drawn to her chest. She’s dimly aware that the others haven’t come back from dinner yet, but it’s hard to muster the energy to care. Ever since the House of Grief, she’s felt drained, empty, surrounded by the shattered pieces of a world she doesn’t know how to reconstruct yet. She feels broken.

There’s the soft sound of a footstep up the stairs. Rustling movement in the center of the shared floor of their lodgings. The sound of running water from the magical taps in the bathroom. Shadowheart ignores it all, focusing her eyes on the progress of a fly climbing up the outside of the window glass. 

Then-- “Shadowheart?”

Something in her heart loosens just a little, hearing Lae’zel’s voice. It’s astonishing, given how they began, the way that Lae’zel has come to mean protection, and understanding, and calm. Lae’zel is safety in a way that none of the others are, because Lae’zel too has had her life taken apart, and the two of them have built a new one out of the ashes. “Yes,” she says softly, forcing herself to stir and lift her head. “I’m here.”

To her surprise, she finds that Lae’zel is standing watching her with a bundle of deep blue flowers in one hand. The gith shifts awkwardly and then sets the plants down on the nearby table. “I--” she says haltingly. A pause, and then she presses on doggedly as if expecting a burst of laughter from some corner at any moment. “All day you have sat here alone. I have drawn you a bath. Will you come?”

“A bath?” Shadowheart tips her head, mildly bemused.

“Yes.” Lae’zel shifts her weight slowly from one foot to the other. Then she adds, almost sheepishly, “Karlach said it would help.” A pause, then so low Shadowheart almost can’t hear it, “Let me help. Please.”

A sudden tight lump settles in Shadowheart’s throat, making it hard to speak. “Lae’zel--”

“I said I would protect you,” Lae’zel mutters. “But there is no enemy to strike. There is only this. These small things. It is not much, but…” 

“No.” Shadowheart slowly uncurls herself from the tight ball in which she has spent the last few hours. The barest hint of a smile pulls at her lips for the first time in days. It’s not about the bath, not really - she didn’t need or even really want one. It’s the reminder that there is more around her than the impenetrable shadow Shar has draped over her world. That Lae’zel is driving it back with both fists, even when she doesn’t think she knows how.

“No,” she repeats softly. “That sounds perfect.”

[minimindi]

Microfic May Day 29: thrall

I got so close to 50 words this time! 57 is close enough I guess lol