#oliver wood x reader one shot

[7s3ven]

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU. oliver wood

( master list )

IN WHICH… Nothing would make Oliver Wood happier than getting a new broom as his Christmas present. That, or Y/N Malfoy finally noticing him. When the two collide at Hogsmeade, Oliver is overjoyed. Perhaps this Christmas, he’ll get two gifts.

“I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas is you.”

“Ah, he’s staring again.” Fred Weasley nudged his twin brother George and pointed over at Oliver. “Do you think he’ll ever actually talk to her?”

“I’ve seen them talk once.” George uttered, his mouth full and his cheeks puffed out. “It was in their second year.”

Fred lightly snorted and waved a hand in front of Oliver’s face. “Wood, you there? You’re drooling this time while staring at her.”

Oliver was snapped out of his trance by the twins’ loud laughter. He frowned. “Knock it off.” He told the pair, taking a sip from his goblet.

“Oh, come on mate, you gotta talk to L/N otherwise she won’t even know you exist.” Fred sighed and quickly added, “And quidditch talk doesn’t count.”

Oliver huffed and rolled his eyes. Talking to Y/N was an almost impossible feat, not just to him. She was Draco Malfoy’s older sister and was basically untouchable. She was Slytherin’s prized queen and the chances of Oliver even being able to talk to her with her posse around was close to zero.

“I’ll talk to her eventually.” He uttered the same excuse he had been using since fourth year. His crush had lasted way too long but he was still determined to win Y/N over.

She wasn’t like the other Slytherins with their mean glares and tendencies to outcast people who weren’t pureblood. She was… nice. Her friends, however, weren’t.

“You’ve fancied her since third year, Oli.” Fred uttered, “Probably before that as well! Just make a move already!”

Oliver’s crush hadn’t begun during first year. It had started before that when he was rushing around Diagon Alley trying to find all his school supplies.

Oliver panted as he attempted to catch his breath. All afternoon he had been rushing from shop to shop to find all the books he needed for his first year at Hogwarts.

He held a pile of novels in his arms and momentarily stopped to marvel at the window of a broom shop. His awe was short lived as someone crashed into his back, sending his supplies everywhere.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I just wanted to look at the new broom!” A H/C-haired girl hurried to pick Oliver’s things up. She shoved everything into his arms, apologizing again.

“You… like Quidditch?” Oliver asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Huh? Of course. Who doesn’t? My father took me to see a game once and it was amazing. Some day, I want to join Hogwarts’ team.”

It was as if Oliver had met his dream girl.

“You’re going to Hogwarts too?!” Oliver exclaimed, his eyes sparkling.

“Yeah! I assume you’re also going, so maybe I’ll see you around.” She outstretched her arm to shake Oliver’s hand, but a black cane pushed her back.

“Don’t socialise with the trash, Y/N.” A man with long blond hair uttered, scowling. Oliver instantly recognized the man as Lucius Malfoy.

“I’ll see you around, Quidditch boy!” Y/N shouted as her father led her away.

That day, Oliver was reminded of where he stood in the scheme of things. He was a lowly half-blood while Y/N came from one of the most esteemed families.

Ever since that day, Oliver had been a little frightened to talk to Y/N, just in case she also referred to him as trash.

Y/N never did end up joining Slytherin’s Quidditch team. Her brother did instead. Oliver guessed it has something to do with her refusal to cheat, and Slytherin was infamously known for cheating.

“Say, are you going to Hogsmeade today, Oli? Perhaps to do a little last minute Christmas shopping?” George questioned, his lips curling into a smirk that could only mean one thing. Trouble.

“If you want to play one of your stupid pranks on me, forget it.” He stood up and silently walked away.

“Ah. He’s in a bad mood because of Y/N again. Jeez.” George rolled his eyes as he stabbed his fork into a carrot.

Oliver was going to visit Hogsmeade, but only to look at Quidditch shops and browse through the technique books. A Hufflepuff girl had asked him out, but he politely refused her offer.

Oliver shoved his hands deep into his warm pockets as he trudged through the thick snow. Hogsmeade wasn’t as busy as it usually was, but that was probably because most sane people wanted to avoid the cold.

The Quidditch captain made an immediate beeline for the broom store. He smiled as he gazed at the window display before entering.

“Good morning!” He kindly greeted the owner, who was an old lady hard of hearing. He immediately walked towards a shelve of books, running his finger over the hard covered spines.

The door opened again, the rusty bell attached to it quietly chiming. “Good morning, Gen!” A feminine voice shouted, piercing the calming atmosphere. Oliver peeked through the books, curious as to who the newcomer was. He could see their winter outfit but not their face.

The girl skipped over to the books, standing on the opposite side of Oliver. She locked eyes with him, and he could see her eyes squint as he smiled, meaning it was a genuine one.

The pair occasionally glanced at each other, jumping when they accidentally made eye contact. The girl tucked a strand of H/C hair behind her hair, quietly humming under her breath. She walked around to the other side of the bookshelf, almost crashing into Oliver.

His heart leaped in his chest as he grabbed Y/N and steadied her. “Sorry.” He said, not being able to muster up any more words.

Y/N silently stared at his face before she gasped. “Oh! Quidditch boy!” She exclaimed, grinning. “I knew I recognized those eyes!” When Oliver sent her a confused look, she laughed. “I’m the girl from Diagon Alley! Before first year, remember?”

“I remember… I’m just wondering why you do.”

“I spent most of my first year looking for you! But I never got your name so it was a bit hard. Then when you joined the Quidditch team and played your first match, I recognized you. I wanted to talk to you after but you seemed to have so many fangirls. I got shy!It’s been ages, jeez. How are you?”

Y/N grinned, an action that set butterflies free in Oliver’s stomach. His cheeks flushed red as he nervously smiled back.

“I’ve… been good. How about you? You never joined the Quidditch team.”

“Well, I don’t exactly like Flint and Draco is already on the team. They don’t need two Malfoy’s.” Y/N sheepishly smiled and laughed.

“I saw you play as a chaser during flying class. You were great. You should join the team some time.” That compliment coming from Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s very own keeper, was a huge deal. “You’d be a wonderful addition. If only you were in Gryffindor.”

Y/N quietly laughed. “Maybe we’d actually be able to spend time together.” Her gaze flickered to the book Oliver was grasping, “Are you going to buy that? I’ve been looking for a copy of it.” She smiled, and Oliver didn’t have the strength to keep the book to himself when she was looking at him like that.

“No.” He uttered, “I was only looking at it. Here.” He handed it to Y/N.

“Are you sure?” She asked, to which Oliver nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you borrow it. See you at school, Oliver.” She grinned again, skipping off to purchase the book.

Oliver stared at the ground, chuckling to himself as his cheeks turned rosy red.

School was finally coming to an end. Thank goodness. Oliver didn’t know how much more studying he could take before his brain gave up.

He returned to his dorm, tired and relieved to finally be returning home today. From his dorm, he heard his friends gasp.

“Ay, mate, there’s something on your bed for you.” One uttered as Oliver ended.

He tilted his head to the side and glanced at his mattress. A badly wrapped present sat on it along with a small card and the book he had let Y/N take.

Oliver grabbed the card, curiously staring at the cursive writing.

Consider this an early Christmas gift and my overdue apology on my father’s behalf (for calling you trash). You’re fun to talk to and I hope to see you around next year.

Merry Christmas, Oliver.

- Y/N

Oliver peeled the wrapping paper, almost choking when he saw the newest edition broom. It was shined and groomed to perfection and Oliver was sure he was going to pass out from excitement.

He slowly grasped the book, opening to the first page that was tabbed by a green sticky note.

On the blank page was the writing,

Merry Christmas, Oliver Wood

And underneath was the signature of Oliver’s favourite Quidditch player.

“She’s freaking amazing.” Oliver muttered under his breath, wondering how Y/N had even managed to pull all this off.

Oliver flipped through the pages, noticing how Y/N had annotated the book on his behalf. He was only falling deeper in love.

“I’m going to find Y/N.” He announced to his friends, who cheered.

“Go get ‘er, tiger!”

Oliver hurried out of the common room, wondering where on earth Y/N would be. The castle was huge, it would take him all day to find her. Luckily, he spotted Draco Malfoy walking down the corridor.

“Malfoy.” Oliver called out.

Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. “If you’re looking for my sister, she’s at the Black Lake. Don’t tell my parents you like her otherwise my stupid ship will be ruined.” And with that, he walked off.

Oliver ignored his odd words and rushed to the Black Lake. He saw Y/N sitting alone and humming to herself as she picked at the green blades of grass.

“You didn’t have to get me a broom, you know.” Oliver said, startling Y/N. She jumped slightly.

“You scared me! It wasn’t that much anyway… and it was on sale. So you don’t need to worry.”

Oliver spluttered. Not that much money? It was more than him and his friends’ bank accounts! Even if they combined all their money, it still wouldn’t be enough.

“The book by itself would have sufficed.” Oliver uttered as he took a seat next to Y/N.

“Yeah. But I had to up my game because other girls were eyeing you up.” Y/N grinned as she stood up, dusting the dirt off her skirt, “Merry Christmas, Oli. See you next year.”

Oliver spent his days before Christmas with the Weasley twins and more of his friends. Even Harry Potter was there. But one person was missing, much to his disappointment.

On Christmas Eve, he pondered what Y/N’s words at the Black Lake had meant. “I had to up my game because other girls were eyeing you up”. Did Y/N… like him back?

Oliver sighed, rushing to turn the lamp on his desk on. He pulled out a thick piece of parchment paper and began to messily scribble down his thoughts and everything he didn’t have the courage to say to Y/N in real life.

Oliver stared at his letter, sighing. He tried not to think too much as he rolled it up and sent his owl to the Malfoy Manor.

Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting by her window, relaxing as the fresh breeze blew through her hair. She heard a quiet chirp and opened her eyes to see an unfamiliar brown owl in front of her. It cooed and tilted its head.

Y/N slowly took the letter that was attached to the owl’s leg and got comfortable before she unravelled it.

Dear Y/N,

I know this letter may be unexpected and strange, especially since it’s Christmas Eve but those words you told me at the Black Lake are still stuck in my head. It feels a little lonely without you around. I’m going to be honest here… and hopefully you won’t laugh at how I pour my heart out.

I like you, Y/N. Not just for your looks or your family. You’re gorgeous, but there’s so much more to you that other guys can’t see for some reason. You’re kind and caring and you may as well be in Hufflepuff. Your ambition is admirable and you really know how to light up a room, even if it’s a room as big as the Great Hall.

You don’t look down on other people because they aren’t pure blood or come from a family like yours. Instead, you help them. There’s so many qualities that make you stand out from the crowd and I’m not expecting a reply any time soon, but I just thought you should know all this.

Santa Claus won’t really make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day. Y/N, I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Please Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas… is you <3.

- Oliver Wood

P.S, thanks for the broom and book. I’m still trying to find a gift to top that.

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile as she read Oliver’s letter. Her room door was suddenly slammed open. Y/N couldn’t react fast enough and all she could do was place the letter face down on her bed.

“Father.” She greeted him, surprised that he was even home. He was supposed to be on a business trip. “What… are you doing here?”

“Receiving love letters already, Y/N?” Her father carelessly grabbed the parchment, his gaze scanning over the beautifully crafted words. After a moment, he nodded. “What is his blood status?”

Y/N looked at the ground, thickly gulping. “… Half-blood.” She uttered after a second of hesitation.

Her father silently nodded, his stern face never changing. “I’ll allow it.”

“W-What?” Y/N stumbled over her own words. Ever since she was young, her father had preached about the importance of marrying another pure blood so this was entirely out of character for him.

“That Wood boy…” Her father thought for a moment before clicking his tongue, “He’s staying at the Weasley’s house. The elves have packed your bags already. You leave tomorrow morning.”

Y/N was speechless. Was this her father or a random intruder?

“Good night, Y/N.” And with that, he left. Y/N sat on her bed, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to process what had just happened.

A knock on the door interrupted breakfast for the Weasley family, Oliver, Harry, and Hermione.

Oliver, as charming as ever, stood up. “I’ll get it.” He offered, walking over to the door. He twisted the door knob and yanked it open, coming face to face with Y/N.

She smiled. “I hope I’m not intruding.” She uttered, peeking over Oliver’s shoulder. “I just wanted to quickly say one thing.”

Oliver could feel the prying eyes of Fred and George and he exasperatingly sighed, shutting the door behind him. “Yes?” His heart leaped in his chest as Y/N leaned forward with a grin.

“I like you too, quidditch boy.”

[justanoasisimagines]

Wrapping presents with Oliver Wood

Hey my lovelies, back with another Christmas Headcanon! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

🎁Oliver doesn't hate wrapping presents, but it's certainly not his favorite activity to do. However, he does find wrapping with you more enjoyable.

🎁The mood has to be set; Christmas music playing in the background, presents in an organized pile, everything you're going to need to the side. Oliver much prefers to wrap presents all in one go.

🎁Somehow Oliver always finds pieces of cellotape stuck to him afterwards. He doesn't know how they got there.

🎁At some point you'll both take a break to have something to eat and maybe a hot drink. Wrapping presents is a long and tiresome process. Both of you can be wrapping for hours.

🎁Oliver questioned when he brought a present. He doesn't remember what he's picked up for who sometimes. It also leads to the question if he's brought enough. If he's missed anyone out.

🎁Oliver asking you how to wrap something up because sometimes he has no idea. He also takes his time wrapping each present perfectly.

🎁Oliver would leave the buying of the wrapping paper, bows, ribbon, tags etc to you. He doesn't care what they look like and he trusts your opinion.

[c3dricsluv]

Masterlist ︶ིྀᩧ

PJO 🌊

Luke Castellan ☆

Do me a favor

Grover Underwood ☆

Nothing yet...

Harry Potter

Cedric Diggory

Nothing yet...

George Weasley

Nothing yet...

Oliver Wood

Nothing yet...

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Hii there!! Can you write something about George Weasley where he and the reader have been really good friends for a while but start secretly dating because of some stupid rule like quidditch players can’t date during the season or something like that? And they get caught by their friends being intimate after a game?

Ps: love your writing style so much, your fics are so easy to get into and beautifully written💕

thank you for the request! hope your enjoy 🫶

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| George Weasley x fem!reader

cw: light smut (heavy petting/making out), sneaking around/secret relationship, jealous!george, assault via bludger, oliver wood is a cock block.

MDNI 18+

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You were walking down the hall with Luna, chatting about the results your divination exam, when a hand shot out and yanked you into a dark, empty classroom.

“Fancy seeing you here,” your captor said in a very familiar, cheeky voice.

“You can't just kidnap me, Weasley.” You cross your arms over your chest, jutting out a hip.

“Kidnapping is a bit dramatic.” George’s hands slide around your waist. “Can't a bloke want to spend a few moments with his girl?” He leaned down, his lips brushing along the column of your throat.

You craned your head back for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Perhaps. But still, some warning would be nice.”

His lips connected with yours in a soft, languid kiss. “Consider yourself warned,” he grinned.

You breathed a content sigh, taking your fingers through his ginger hair while he peppered featherlight kisses along your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids. The last few weeks had been so challenging thanks to Woods new rule about dating during Quidditch season.

You and George had been circling one another since fourth year, waiting for the right moment to dip your toes into something more than friendship. And of course, when the stars finally aligned, Wood had to throw a wrench in your new relationship. So now, instead of basking in your honeymoon phase, you were forced to sneak around, hiding your relationship from everyone.

But Fred, obviously. George couldn't lie to his twin even if he wanted to.

“You're in your head, darling,” George murmured, pulling back to look at your face in the dim light.

“Am not,” you argued, dragging your hands down his chest and sliding them under his robes. The sweater beneath was soft and thick, warm from his body heat.

“What are you thinking about?” He kissed your temple, across your cheekbone, beneath your ear…

You hummed, leaning into him, soaking up his heat, his unhurried affection.

“Love?” He prodded, nipping at your ear.

“Just how much I like you,” you whispered, resting your chin on his sternum when he pulled back.

A smile spread across his freckled face. “My sweet girl,” he cooed. “I like you too.”

You pressed your lips to his, brushing your tongue along his lower lip, and his hands tightened on your waist. He parted his lips for you to delve deeper, matching every stroke of your tongue with his until you were panting, clawing at his sweater to get closer.

He backed you against a desk, his hand sliding under your skirt to squeeze your ass, notching your hips against his. A gasp squeaked for your throat when he ground himself against you, already growing sensitive.

He chuckled. “Gonna to have to be quiet f’me, love. Don't want go get caught with a Beater, aye?”

You nodded, clamping your lips shut.

The Quidditch season was only three months. How hard could it be?

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Quidditch practice ran late for the third night in a row, and you were desperate for some attention from your boyfriend.

You lurked by the Gryffindor locker rooms, waiting for George to emerge, freshly showered in his favorite hoodie and sweats. Your mouth nearly watered at the thought.

But player after player trailed out of the locker room, and no George. You were getting impatient, shifting form foot to foot when you spotted Fred walking with Ron, chatting animatedly about the match this weekend.

You grabbed Fred’s wrist and yanked him to the corridor you were hiding.

“Oi! What—oh, hey y/n.” He smirked down at you, waggling his eyebrows. “Wrong twin, but—”

“Ew, Fred! No! Where's George?”

Fred snickered. “Still in the shower. Pitch was muddy and he got a face full from Thomas.”

You grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, he was livid. But, he's the last one in there if you want to cheer him up.” Fred winked and slipped back into the hall, leaving you to your mischief.

You scampered down the corridor and into the locker room, following the trail of steam until you found the only drawn curtain. George was humming to himself, tapping his feet on the tile floor.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to avoid laughing and ruining the surprise, and perched on the bench across from the curtain to wait.

A few moments later, the water cut off and his hand poked through the curtain, grabbing the red towel off the hook.

The curtain ripped open, and George yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the towel slung low around his hips.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You grinned.

“You little minx.” He grabbed you off the bench and into his still damp chest, kissing you fiercely. “I was just about to come see you,” he said between sloppy kisses, backing you against a row of lockers.

“Were you?” You giggled as his lips moved down your neck, sending tingles skittering across your skin. You dragged your nails cross his bare back, admiring the way his muscles jumped at your touch.

“Couldn't stand another night without you,” he admitted. He started undoing the buttons of your blouse, clearly feeling as desperate as you did based on the tent in his towel.

“Eager, are we?” You teased, hiking your leg over his hip as his hand slid into your skirt.

His middle finger swiped through your slit, teasing your clit with small circles. Pleasure pulsed through you, making your eyes roll back. “Someone is. Already soaked for me, love,” he groaned, capturing your lips in another bruising kiss as he toyed with you.

“Fuck, Georgie,” you whined, bucking your hips against his hand.

“Merlin, I missed you.”

“Weasley, you still in here?” Wood called his voice echoing around room.

“Bloody fucking—stall, now.” George slipped his fingers from you and into his mouth, ushering you into the shower stall he just vacated. The air was still humid and scented by his vanilla body wash. No, your vanilla body wash, you realized, spotting the bottle you'd been missing still sitting on the shelf.

“Still hangin’ around, Wood?” You heard George say.

“I wanted to talk to ya’ about somethin’,” Oliver said, and you saw his boots enter the shower room from under the curtain.

“Can I put trousers on first?”

Oliver snorted. “Sure, mate.”

You heard George shuffling around, pulling on his clothes.

“Fucking trousers don't hide shit,” he grumbled to himself and you had a stifle another laugh. “Alright, Wood. What's on your mind?”

“You've been distracted, Weasley. Missing bludgers, ignoring plays, it's not like you to not take Quidditch seriously,” Oliver said, and you frowned.

George sighed. “It's, ah, there's an assignment in Herbology that's gone tits up. Damn plant won't grow,” George said.

“Uh huh,” Wood answered, clearly not buying it. “Well, maybe it's time your sort out your priorities, mate. Not sure a plant is worth throwing the season, if ya’ know what I mean. We need our best Beater, yeah?”

Your stomach dropped, indignation at Woods words colliding with the newfound guilt in your mind. George loved Quidditch. You didn't want to be the reason he wasn't playing well. But also…what if that meant Quidditch was higher priority to him? Where did that leave you?

“Understood, Captain.” George's voice was cold, a stark contrast to his usual chipper demeanor, and it raised goosebumps along your arms.

Oliver clapped him on the shoulder and left the locker room, evidently oblivious to the shift in George. The door clicked shut behind him, echoing around the empty room.

George tugged the shower curtain open, startling you from your spiralling thoughts. He immediately clocked the distress on your face, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Oh, lovey—”

“I didn't know I was impacting the team,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes.

George tilted your chin up, his other arm wrapping around your waist. “Baby, the teams fine. Wood just has a stick up his ass. I played great today, and always do when you're in the stands watching me.”

It was true. Some of his best games had been in the last month you'd been together.

“And besides, I don't need to sort out my priorities.” He bumped his nose against yours. “You always come first, y/n.”

Your heart soared, heat creeping up your neck. “Before Quidditch?” You asked, curling your hands into his hoodie.

“Before everything.” He kissed you softly, with no real pressure, just feeling you against him, and all your anxiety fell away. “C’mon, Freddie's going to a Hufflepuff party tonight, so we've got my dorm to ourselves.”

You kissed him again, smiling. “Sounds perfect.”

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Brooms whizzed over your house’s section, whipping your scarf around your head.

“Go George!” You cheered, when he drifted nearby, twirling the bat in his gloved hand.

He flashed you a wink before banking left, whacking the snot out of bludger that was hurdling straight for Ron. It rocketed across the pitch and directly into the other houses Seeker, giving Harry the advantage.

“Woohoo!” You cheered with the rest of the student body. “Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

“Good game, aye?” A guy sidled up next you, leaning against the railing. You sort of recognized him from your Potions class, but couldn't be sure.

“Great game,” you replied, turning your attention back to the match and your boyfriend.

“Are you fan? Of Quidditch, I mean?”

“Mhmm—go Ron!” You cheered, tuning him out.

“I'm Gus, by the way. We're in the same Potions class?”

“Hi, Gus.” You give him a tight smile, hoping he takes the hint.

“Y’know, maybe we could study together sometime. Merlin knows Potions isn't my strong suit, but you seem pretty smart—”

“Get after it, Harry!” You roared as the Seeker flew overhead, the snitch just a few feet out in front of him.

“What do you think, y/n?” Gus prodded.

Irritation prickled up your neck. “I'm not sure I have time to tutor someone.”

Gus’ smile faltered. “Well, what about the next match, then? Maybe we could sit together.” He scooted closer you, infringing on your already limited space.

You squirmed closer to your friend on the other side of you, who was too wrapped up in the match to notice your discomfort. “No thanks, Gus.”

“Oh, c’mon. I promise I'm a nice guy.” He dropped his hand on your knees, and you wrenched yourself away.

“Don't fucking touch me—”

A deafening crack sounded from across the pitch and you both startled, turning back towards the match. A bludger was barreling straight towards your section. You screamed as it slammed into the post less than half a meter from Gus' head, ripping through the wood with a resounding boom and scattering splinters across the section.

You jumped back, falling into your friends laps, and Gus shrieked like a banshee, his face blanching white at how close it had come to taking his head clean off his shoulders.

An ear-splitting whistle interrupted the resulting chaos.

“Weasley, out!” Madame Hootch hollered.

You straightened in alarm, finding George hovering at the center of the pitch, his bat gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were locked on Gus, dark and smug, a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“George, land!” Wood bellowed, and George finally floated back to earth. You could hear Oliver shouting, but couldn't see George from your seat.

You fought your way out of the stands, trying to push your way towards the locker room.

Gryffindor was booing the call, chanting “Weasley!” at the top of their lungs. Without George, unless Harry caught the snitch, the match was basically forfeit.

Your mind raced from the adrenaline. Did George do it on purpose? And if he did, why would he jeopardize the match like that?

You found him in the locker room, undoing the ties on his robe. He was still in his uniform, sweaty and smeared with dirt, his hair flat from the helmet.

“George,” you said, and he looked up.

“Love, what are you doing down here?” He frowned, reaching for you, but you held your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. His frown deepened.

“Did you do that on purpose?” You demanded.

“Of course I did,” he responded, not a trace of hesitation in his voice.

“Why? They won't win without you!”

“I don't care about the bloody match, y/n.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

George walked over to you, cradling your face in his gloved hands. “That guy was bothering you, yeah?”

You almost denied it, but found yourself nodding, unable to lie to him.

“And you thought I was going to sit back and let someone make you uncomfortable? My girl? Fuck no.”

You giggled, his protectiveness spurring a wave of affection and dissolving your anger. “I think nearly killing him was a bit much,” you snickered.

“Are you questioning my aim?”

“Just your sanity.”

He pinched your cheeks together in his still gloved hand, shaking you slightly. “I'll always protect you, brat. And if that makes me a madman, so be it.”

You swatted his hands away before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for kiss. He tasted of salt and peppermints, his skin smelling of turf and fresh air, with a hint of that masculine musk that made your head go a little fuzzy.

He kissed you back, catching your lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently. You moaned against him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and taste you.

“I'm done hiding,” he murmured when you both came up for air. “And Wood can bugger off.”

The mixing shouting of the crowd filled the quiet air around you. “Ravenclaw scores another twenty points!” Lee declared, his voice notably unenthused.

George shook his head with a smug chuckle, leaning his forehead against yours. “See? They need me.”

“Weasley!” Oliver shouted, startling you both. George looked up, tightening his grip around you. Oliver didn't even bother to act surprised. “You're back in,” he sighed.

A grin split George's handsome face, making your heart flutter.

“Good man,” he replied, dropping a peck onto your lips before doing his helmet and running back out onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd.

“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[slytherin-princess-x]

Last day of slytherinmas 😭

My girl

Theodore nott x cheerleader!reader

Summary: you keep your relationship hidden but when a charming gryffindor captain tries to win you over, it’s not just a game of quidditch anymore it’s a game for you

A/n: it’s his pov guys and thank you for another great idea @smut-anarchy I wanna kiss your beautiful brain 💋

The sun hung high in the autumn sky, casting a warm golden hue over the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. The excitement of the crowd buzzed in my ears, a cacophony of cheers and shouts that rose and fell like the wind. I stood on the sidelines, my heart pounding not from the thrill of the game but from a simmering anger that threatened to boil over.

Gryffindor was playing Slytherin today, and while the usual rivalry had me on edge, it wasn’t the opposing team that had me fuming. No, it was their captain, Oliver Wood. With his tousled hair and those infuriatingly charming winks he kept sending toward the Slytherin cheerleaders, my focus shifted solely to him, and more specifically, to Y/N.

Y/N was mesmerizing, even in her cheer uniform. Her laughter rang out above the rest, and every time Wood shot her a flirty wink, a knot tightened in my stomach. I couldn’t stand it. She was my girl, and I had no intention of letting anyone else think otherwise.

As I watched Wood fly around the pitch, I could feel the rage bubbling within me. He was supposed to be focused on the game, yet he was wasting precious moments trying to win Y/N’s affection rather than leading his team. I clenched my fists, my knuckles white as I considered what I would do to show him that she wasn’t interested in his charming little antics.

When Slytherin scored their first goal, I caught Y/N’s eye. She smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling with delight, but I could see the confusion lurking beneath the surface. Did she even realize how much Wood was flirting with her? I hoped not. The last thing I wanted was for her to reciprocate. My mind raced with thoughts of how to assert my claim, how to remind everyone that she was mine.

As the match continued, it became apparent that I needed to focus. I was a Beater, and my job was to protect my teammates, to ensure that we won. But my attention kept being drawn to the Gryffindor captain. The way he smiled at Y/N and winked, as if it were a game in itself.

“Focus, Nott,” Blaise shouted to me, making me force my gaze back to the pitch. I could hear the cheers from the stands, feel the adrenaline surging in the air, but it was all clouded by my growing jealousy.

The game wore on, and it seemed that Oliver was determined to keep his flirtation going. I could see him glance at Y/N every chance he got, completely ignoring the game’s flow. It only fueled my determination. I was ready to send him a message, to make him realize that he was crossing a line.

With every swing of my bat, I aimed to protect my teammates while keeping an eye on Wood. I wasn’t above playing dirty if it meant defending my territory.

“Keep your eyes on the ball, Theo!” My friend Draco’s voice broke through my haze of anger. I barely registered him; I was locked on Oliver.

Then it happened. A bludger was coming straight for Wood as he flew high above the pitch. Instinct kicked in; I swung my bat, sending the ball hurtling toward him with a calculated force. The impact was satisfying as he narrowly dodged it, but I could see the annoyance flash in his eyes. Good. Let him know I’m not here to play nice.

The match progressed, and with each passing moment, I felt the tide of the game turning in our favor. My teammates rallied, fueled by the promise of victory and the desire to defend our honor. Y/N cheered us on from the sidelines, her voice ringing clear and bright.

Finally, as the match neared its end, Slytherin secured a decisive lead. The moment came when I saw Oliver making yet another desperate attempt to impress Y/N with a flashy move. I could feel my anger boiling over, and I took one last swing of my bat, sending a bludger careening directly at him.

He dodged, but the distraction was enough. Our Seeker, Millicent, dove toward the Golden Snitch, her determination matched only by my own. She caught it, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Slytherin had won.

As I landed on the pitch, adrenaline coursing through me, I scanned the crowd for Y/N. She was beaming, her smile lighting up my world, and in that moment, I knew I had to claim her in front of everyone. I had to show Wood and the rest of the school that she belonged to me.

I strode toward her, my heart pounding in my chest. When I reached her, the noise of the crowd faded, and it was just the two of us. Without hesitation, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her fiercely. It was a declaration, a promise, a way to stake my claim.

The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps, but I didn’t care. I could feel Y/N’s surprise melt into delight as she kissed me back, her hands tangled in my hair.

Oliver’s glare from the other side of the pitch was almost palpable, but I didn’t let it bother me. I had won the game, and more importantly, I had won her heart.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. I was Theodore Nott, the boy who defended what was his, and I had no intention of letting anyone—especially not Oliver Wood—get in my way.

Taglist: @yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

[luverine]

Orc (Leif) Blacksmith x fem! Hunter! Reader /P.4

MDNI // 3.1k words // smuttt // meet mom and get boned in the woods?? // 18+ // Leif is a sweetheart // no proof read // Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

It is cold.

Winter came like a ravenous beast, its icy breath cutting through the air. Winds howled with relentless fury, and flurries of snow whipped around, making travel arduous and blinding. For you, it was a challenge to keep moving, for you-

Leif, massive and impervious to the cold, seemed hardly affected. Wrapped in nothing more than a loincloth and a fur-lined cape, he was sweating, of all things. Yet, his complaints filled the frosty air.

“My legs are killing me,” he groaned, trudging along with a scowl.

You shot him a look of disbelief, bundled head to toe in thick furs and linens. In your current state, you probably looked more like a beast. Crossing your arms, you raised an incredulous brow at him.

“Really?” you grunted. “We’re barely halfway through, and you’re whining about your legs?”

Leif pouted, his broad olive shoulders sagging. “It’s not my fault! I didn’t know we’d be walking this much.”

You rolled your eyes as his grumbling continued, though the sight of an inn up ahead brought relief. Warm light spilled from its windows, accompanied by the muffled cacophony of voices and music. Inside, the place was alive- rowdy patrons danced and sang, while others brawled or swayed drunkenly with half-empty mugs. A chaotic but welcome reprieve from the storm.

Leif hesitated, his hulking frame shifting uneasily. “Uh… we could keep going,” he muttered, his amber eyes darting toward the boisterous crowd.

“Not a chance,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m exhausted, and a drink sounds like exactly what I need.”

Before he could protest, you slipped into the throng, navigating the chaos toward the bar. Leif, meanwhile, hugged the wall near the entrance, his size drawing curious glances. You spotted him there, his brows knitted, his jaw tight as he scanned the room.

“What’s wrong?” you asked when you finally rejoined him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I just want to get to the room,” he said, his voice low and strained. His eyes, usually steady, flitted nervously over the crowd before settling on yours. “I don’t… like this.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine. I just need to sleep,” he murmured, already moving toward the back of the inn where the check-in desk sat.

You followed, stepping up to a small troll who was engrossed in a tattered book. He barely glanced up before breaking into a toothy grin.

“Room for two?” you asked.

“Good timing,” the troll said, snapping the book shut. “All I’ve got left are twins.”

You and Leif exchanged a sigh before handing over three coins. With a jingle of keys, the troll waved you off toward the stairs.

The room was cramped, with two tiny beds that seemed more like oversized cushions. You dropped your sack and bow onto one of them, laughing as you tested its size. “If I can barely fit on this, you might as well call it a pillow.”

Leif scowled, his shoulders brushing the doorframe as he stepped inside. “It’s… small,” he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation.

“Small’s an understatement.” You kicked off your boots and flopped onto the bed, ignoring its protests under your weight. “But it’s warm, and it’s better than freezing out there.”

Leif sat on the edge of his bed, his broad frame making it creak ominously. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. The tension hadn’t left his face.

“You sure you’re okay?” you asked, softer this time.

He nodded, though his voice wavered. “I’m good. Just… tired.”

Sleep was elusive. The beds were too small, the room felt suffocating, and the creeping cold made it worse. You shifted uncomfortably, letting out a frustrated groan before sitting up.

“Leif, get up,” you muttered, nudging him. “I’m pushing the beds together.”

He grunted, barely awake, but propped himself up to help. Together, you managed to slide the beds closer, the narrow gap between them disappearing.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. You shrugged and lay back down. “Alright, let’s try this again. Sweet dreams, yeah?”

Leif paused for a moment, his voice soft and low. “You too, měsíční svit.”

The words lingered in the air, his hand hesitantly reaching for yours.

Without thinking, you took it.

A faint blush bloomed across his cheeks, his expression warm yet flustered. Little did you know, in his traditions, this simple gesture meant far more. To him, you were already something more than friends- closer to love, he could feel it.

As slumber finally took over the both of you dreams of your tender touch against his hard muscled skin played in his head.

•••

The morning was brisk, the air sharp as you hurriedly snatched a few small loaves of bread before stepping out into the cold desert of winter. The snow had grown deeper overnight, soft drifts crunching underfoot. It barely reached the calf of the towering orc beside you, yet for you, it climbed nearly to your knees, each step a small struggle.

Huffing against the biting chill, you glanced up at him- his imposing frame cloaked in the muted tones of the season. His olive-green skin darkened faintly as your eyes met, a hint of bashfulness betraying the admiration he’d been trying to play off.

“Feeling alright, big guy?” you teased, your breath fogging in the frosty air.

He chuckled, a deep and rumbling sound that warmed the cold around you. “Better than alright,” he said, his tusked grin widening. “I can’t wait to introduce you to my mother- she’ll adore you.”

His excitement was contagious as he embarked into tales of his childhood, his voice animated as he shared silly misadventures and endearing memories from years past. The frigid morning seemed to fade as his laughter echoed across the snow.

•••

As the journey drew to a close, you found yourself approaching a village called Solheimar. The crisp winter air carried the faint crackle of fire and the hum of celebration. People draped in thick furs and adorned with intricately braided hair bustled about, their laughter and shouts mingling with the melodies of a barmaid’s song. Flames leapt skyward from bonfires, casting flickering light over axe-bearing men and women who drank and danced in the frosty night.

“Vikings,” you murmured, glancing at Leif for confirmation. But his gaze was already fixed on you, a proud gleam in his eyes. He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the scene.

“This is my homeland!” he declared, his voice warm with emotion. “Isn’t it breathtaking? I missed the traditions here- there’s always something to celebrate.”

Looking around, you take in the tall wooden structures, their walls adorned with intricately carved designs that weave together like the threads of an old story.

“Your home is truly a sight,” you say, turning to Leif. “Why would you ever leave a place like this for the quiet little village we claimed?”

A sigh escaped his lips, a cloud of breath misting in the icy air. “I never really belonged,” he admitted, his voice heavy with a quiet ache. “Even with my mother, I was always… different, never truly kin to the others.”

His words settled over you like a familiar weight, stirring something deep within. You knew that feeling all too well- the ache of being out of place in your own land. But unlike him, you had refused to leave. Your home was yours, no matter how it tried to push you away.

Your gaze softened as you studied him. His face, his lips- dangerous and alluring with those tusk-like teeth. His skin, dark olive and rich, framed his features like a masterpiece. And those lips, full and plump- oh.

You tore your eyes away, but not before catching the faint sparkle in his, a flicker of something tender as he laid bare his memories and old wounds.

“Leif…”

His bourbon eyes pounce upon yours, “You belong anywhere you go you seem to make it better.” You look away, unable to hold contact to such an intense feeling.

A smile crosses his face, no trace of melancholy anymore. “Thank you můj měsíčku.” Tears glaze over his sight but are blinked away before they fall.

•••

The night was filled with rambling stories and bursts of laughter, ale loosening tongues as they learned more about each other.

“So, let me get this straight- you ate rocks as a child?”

“No, no! It wasn’t the rocks, it was the salt on them! They were salty!”

“Uh-huh,” you snorted, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re telling me you licked salty rocks for fun?”

“Not for fun- okay, maybe a little for fun.”

The both of you erupted in laughter again before the second leaned back smugly.

“Well, I used to hunt with my bare hands.”

“…You make me nervous.”

•••

You were woken by the warm sun creeping over the horizon and the murmur of townsfolk already busy with morning chores. Turning to your right, you spotted Leif sprawled on the cobblestones outside the pub, snoring softly.

“Damn it, Leif, get up. We’ve got to move,” you muttered, giving the brutish orc a firm tug on his arm.

With a low groan, he stirred, blinking groggily at his surroundings. It all came rushing back- the pub, the ale, and how thoroughly you both got swilled.

Leif sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as a grin crept across his face. Matka. His heart swelled at the thought. Soon, you’d meet her soon, you’d be family, if she approved… which she would.

“We should not have drank so much my head feels like it’s gonna pop-“

Leif laughed off your complaint and patted your head, “I forgot small humans can’t dunk as much- I’m surprised you kept up.”

You groan and pick yourself off the graveled ground.

…

The walk to Leif’s family home was quiet, the frost-laden village waking in slow ripples as sunlight kissed the rooftops. Leif carried himself with unusual tension, his broad shoulders straight, his stride purposeful. You could tell he was nervous, though he tried to mask it.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence. “What’s she like?”

“Matka?” Leif’s amber eyes softened, and a soft smile touched his lips. “She’s… strong. Wise. And terrifying when she wants to be.” He chuckled, but there’s a trace of pride in his voice was clear. “But she’s also kind. She’ll like you.”

“I hope you're right,” you murmured, the weight of his words settling over you. The idea of meeting the woman who had raised someone like Leif made your stomach twist with nervous anticipation.

As you approached the outskirts of the village, a sturdy longhouse came into view, its walls adorned with intricate carvings of wargs, moons, and fierce warriors. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the scent of roasting meat mingled with the crisp winter air.

The door swung open before you even reached it, revealing a tall Vakyriecwoman with streaks of silver in her brown hair. Her eyes, a piercing shade of amber like Leif’s, locked onto you with an assessing gaze. Despite the lines of age on her face, her presence was commanding, her posture regal.

“Matka,” Leif greeted, his voice warm but measured.

The woman’s gaze shifted to her son, softening immediately. “Leif,” she said, her voice rich and melodic. She stepped forward, pulling him into a firm embrace before holding him at arm’s length. “You’ve grown even more, my boy. And you’ve brought a guest.”

You offered a polite smile, bowing your head slightly. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.”

Her eyes flicked over you once more, sharp but not unkind. “You must have a name.”

You introduced yourself, and her expression softened further, recalling his letters. “Welcome to our home. Come inside- both of you.”

The interior of the longhouse was warm and inviting, the hearth crackling with life. Tapestries lined the walls, depicting battles, celebrations, and family lineage. A table was already set with bread, meat, and mugs of steaming broth.

Over the meal, Matka asked you endless questions- about your journey, your skills, and your family. Her gaze never wavered, and her attention felt both flattering and slightly unnerving.

Leif, however, watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and quiet approval. When his mother finally leaned back, a satisfied smile spread across her face.

“You’re strong,” she declared. “And clever. You’ll need both to handle my son.”

Leif sputtered, his face flushing as you laughed softly.

Matka’s smile turned sly. “I like you.”

Leif felt as if his heart would burst, to him you became a part of the family- it couldn’t make him more content.

As the night went on with story’s of his childhood and tales of battles, Bodil- Leif’s Matka called it for the night and insisted on residing in the orcs old bedroom.

Unable to deny the offer, you and Leif agree but before you head to the bedroom to finally get a good night's rest.

“Come with me?” He asks looking fondly into your eyes, holding a hand out.

You let out a tired huff and take a hold on his larger olive hand, rough from his hard work.

The snow had stopped, leaving the world blanketed in a pristine sheet of white. You and Leif ventured out to explore the nearby woods. The quiet was soothing, the crunch of snow underfoot the only sound as you walked side by side.

Leif seemed more at ease now, the earlier tension replaced by a quiet contentment. “She likes you,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You smirk at what he obviously stated. “I noticed.”

“She’s never liked anyone I’ve brought home before,” he added, glancing at you.

You stopped, turning to face him. “How many people have you brought home?”

Leif hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Not… many,” he admitted. “But none of them ever were like you...”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking in. Your cheeks warmed, and you found yourself averting your gaze.

“Leif-”

He stepped closer, his broad hand gently tilting your chin so your eyes met his. The vulnerability in his expression was unexpected, his usual confidence replaced by something softer.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice rough but earnest. “You’ve changed everything for me.”

Before you could respond, his lips brushed against yours- tentative at first, then deepening as his hands settled on your waist. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with unspoken promises.

When you finally broke apart, tusks brushing against lips, our breaths mingling in the cold air, you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if your mother approves…”

Leif laughed, the sound rich and warm. “You’re impossible,” he said, his forehead resting against yours.

“Would you have it any other way?”

No, I like you just as you are,” Leif whispers against your cheek, his breath warm, a stark contrast to the biting cold surrounding you.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.” His hands cradle your face, rough but gentle. “You drive me mad.”

Leif leans closer, his whiskey-colored eyes locked with yours, the intensity leaving you breathless. Your voice is soft, trembling with vulnerability. “If you’ll have me… let me have you.”

Your smaller hand rests atop his, your touch like a promise. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Please.”

Tears glisten in his amber eyes, the sight tugging at your heart. “Leif, what’s-” Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours in a kiss so eager that you stumble backward, landing softly in the snow.

Leif follows, his powerful frame kneeling over you, his arms caging you in a desperate embrace. The world disappears as he holds you close, his warmth chasing away the chill. His grip is unyielding, as if letting go would shatter the moment.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice deep with emotion. His gaze burns with admiration, a deep blush spreading across his sharp features.

You relax into his hold, a soft smile playing on your lips. “I trust you with my life, Leif,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your fingers weave into his dark, dreaded hair, tugging gently.

A strained whine escapes him as he deepens the kiss, pulling you onto his lap. His large hands settle on your hips, guiding your movements as you grind against him, the friction igniting a fire between you.

“I need you,” he rasps, his voice breaking. His hands fumble with the buttons of your pants, trembling with urgency. The cold air bites at your exposed skin, but the heat between you burns hotter.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, his fingers slipping into your slick folds. His touch sends shocks of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, goddess, you feel… incredible.”

You shudder, your breaths ragged as he pushes a thick finger inside you. His touch is careful, reverent, but it drives you wild. Your moans spill freely, your body arching into his.

“Leif,” you cry out, trembling as the pressure builds. “I’m going to- I need you, please-”

You come undone around his fingers, your climax washing over you in waves. The intensity leaves you reeling, your body quaking as you clutch onto him. He looks at you with awe, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed.

“I’m ready for you, my sunshine,” you whisper, your voice breathy but firm. Your hands wander beneath his shirt, caressing the hard planes of his chest, your fingers teasing his sensitive skin.

Leif whimpers, his resolve faltering. With shaking hands, he unbuttons his own pants, freeing his thick, blushed, aching length. “I’ll go slow,” he promises, his voice husky as he gazes down at you.

You nod, pulling him close and pressing butterfly kisses along his neck. His broad shoulders tremble as he lines himself up, sliding into you inch by inch. The stretch is exquisite, and the wet sounds of your joining make heat bloom across your skin.

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his movements slow and deliberate. “I… I won’t last.”

His moans only spur you on, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. Each thrust brings you closer, your cries mingling in the cold night air. The world fades, leaving only the two of you, your passion raw and all-consuming.

As you both reach the edge, your release crashes over you together, the tension snapping into a wave of pure ecstasy. Leif buries his face in your neck, tusks brushing against skin, his breaths ragged, his body trembling against yours.

When the night grows quieter, Leif tenderly dresses your spent body, his touches filled with care. He lifts you into his arms, carrying you through the snow toward the safety of home.

There, by the crackling fire, he holds you close, his hulking frame a fortress of warmth and love. As sleep claims him, a soft smile graces his lips, contentment etched into his features.

Leif knows he has won your heart, and hold you love, just like him.

You’re his měsíční svit.

A/N: Take this as an apology for not posting in over two weeks ‹𝟹 writers blog kicked my ass. Happy New Year!!

Likes, reblogs, comments appreciated ‹𝟹 ˳ ׄ ⟡  .

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE OLIVER WOOD X SHY HUFFLEPUFF READER 

You were Neville's older sister and you were sorted into the Hufflepuff house while your brother Neville was sorted into the Gryffindor house. The both of you were quite similar in terms of personality, both of you were shy yet friendly with those around you. Everyone loved to be around you because of your kind nature and friendly personality, you were a bit of an introvert compared to your brother and your friends liked to tease you about it but everyone around you adored your shy nature, they found it rather bashful. You were academically driven and had the will and focus to get good grades, you didn't spend hours and hours to study like Hermione but you were naturally good at academics since you absorbed the concepts in one go and preferred a practical based learning compared to rote memorization. You even managed to get into Snape's good graces the other day when you were working on how to make the Polyjuice potion, you followed the instructions to the T and brewed the perfect mixture that even Snape couldn't find fault with your skill and accuracy and just gave you a slight nod of his head in a begrudging manner to show his appreciation for you, making you one of the rare cases where he showed his admiration to someone who wasn't from his own house 

Of course, you and your brother were secretly terrified and nervous of him deep down but you were able to pull through, however Neville needed a bit more help in Potions and was always on the receiving end of his taunts and sarcastic remarks which made you feel bad for Neville whenever you'd see his flustered face with the expression on his face looking like he was on the verge of tears. You'd spend most of your time helping out Neville with Potions and of course, defending him against Malfoy and his goons. You didn't really like confronting people but if it was for the sake of your brother, you had to suck it up and deal with it. By no means you had nerves of steel nor were you fearless, you'd be nervous when you tell them to stay away from your brother while they laughed at you and made jokes at you and your brother's expense, making you regret your decision of trying to be a hero in the first place. You felt your eyes water slightly with the comments the other Slytherins from your own year made and you hated how pathetic you felt, you were supposed to be defending your brother and be the older sibling he could look up to for protection and guidance, instead the guilt ate through your mind as you silently cursed yourself for being pathetic and weak and failing Neville as an older sister till someone decided that enough was enough and that's when you met...Oliver...

"Oi...leave her alone, yeah?" spoke a deep voice from nearby as you turned around and spotted a guy who looked like he was in your year, he seemed somewhat familiar to you and yet you couldn't put a finger to it, you surveyed the brown haired guy dressed in the Gryffindor Quidditch robes and clutched his broom as his veins protruded slightly and his jaw was clenched, looking agitated as his eyes narrowed at the bunch of Slytherins in front of him. "What's it to you Wood? Get lost'' hollered Marcus as he leered at him and Oliver just glared at him as he looked around, trying to see if there were any professors or other students around the area before pulling out his wand and hexing them. "Um...thanks..'' you mumbled and fidgeted with the hem of your robes and you shot him a polite smile. "No problem, I've been wanting to do that for a while now anyway...'' chuckled Oliver slightly as he held out his hand and introduced himself to you. "The name's Oliver, Oliver Wood...the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team'' he said proudly as he shook your hand

The second he came in contact with your hand and held your hand, he was surprised by how soft and gentle it was, a stark contrast compared to his rough and calloused ones as he found it slightly endearing and part of him wanted to keep holding your hand for a bit longer. "I'm Y/N Longbottom..'' you replied and his eyes widened slightly. "Longbottom...could you be related to Neville in some way?" he asked you as you nodded. "I'm his sister'' you answered as he looked at you like you were a fascinating rock that dropped from the moon. "Well, that's surprising, never knew Neville had a sister...'' he mused and he surveyed your features. Something about him just fueled that desire in him to protect you, was it the way your hair strands fell in that beautiful face of yours or was it the way he felt like he was already getting the feeling of getting lost in your eyes or was it the way how flustered and bashful you were in front of him which made your mannerisms endearing to watch

Ever since that incident, he just can't seem to let go of you. He follows you around like a puppy, a guard dog to be exact, warding off anyone who dared to mess with you and as he spent more time with you, he found himself growing more attached to you and your shy nature which he couldn't get enough of. He loved the way your cheeks would get tinged with a red blush at times and hide your face in a book and mumble something incoherent whenever you felt flustered about something which made him want to see more of those reactions from you. Of course, his friends eventually got wind of his feelings for you and started teasing him about it, Fred and George took immense pleasure in mercilessly poking fun at him for which he'd immediately tell them to shut it with a slight blush on his face but he won't really deny it

Even your own friends are convinced that he fancies you and they like to tease you about it yet you don't really see the obvious signs of him liking you. "I swear to Merlin Y/N you're absolutely dense, he FANCIES you, you dummy'' said one of your friends with an exasperated sigh as you looked at her reproachfully. "No he doesn't, we're just friends, he invites me to see his Quidditch games and we study in the library together and we hang out at Honeydukes at times...he's also nice enough to ask me about my day and he likes holding hands with me for some reason but we're just friends...nothing more than that'' you replied as your friends around you groaned and made noises of protest of your naivete and threw a cushion at you 

Oliver feels like he can't control his feelings for you anymore, his mind is filled with thoughts regarding you, deep down he's worried and has the paranoia that someone could take advantage of your kindness and naivete which he wouldn't allow to happen at any cost, which was why he needed to ensure that he was always around you at all times. He even ended up changing his schedule just so he could be in the same classes as you and he felt his heart race against his chest whenever he felt your hand brush against his. He feels like he has the strength to fight the world for you, you're his pillar of strength, he wants to be your man and take care of you and provide for you. The other day you received a low score for Potions which was something you didn't expect and you felt quite sad about it which hurt his heart, he wanted to see you happy and when he saw tears prickling at the corner of those lotus shaped eyes of yours, he felt like his heart was sinking. He gently caressed your cheek with his palm and held you in his arms close to him and stroked your hair telling you that you did your best and it was all right and how he would always be there for you and the two of you spent the rest of the night with each other as he bought you your favorite sweets from Honeydukes 

There are times when his mind starts to wander as he thinks about how soft and lovely it would be to kiss your lips while he holds you, how he could be your protector, how beautiful you'd look being married to him and having a family with him...yep, he's that far gone and detached from reality already, imagining and thinking about a happy married life with you. The thought of you being someone else and someone else daring to kiss those lips of yours made him infuriated, it just made his blood boil to no end. You were HIS, at times he felt like just wrapping you in silk like the precious doll that you were for him and locking you in a room so other people won't be able to get to you. He'd never blame you for anything, it's those lousy pests around you that are looking forward to taint your innocence. He doesn't stalk you, he just...follows you around to keep you safe, Hogwarts is still a pretty dangerous place after all and the last thing he needs is for you, his beloved to get hurt 

He doesn't classify himself as someone who has rage issues but when he heard some Ravenclaw dudes talking about you inappropriately his mind went blank with fury and broke a lot of their bones and they had to spend a few months in the Hospital Wing. His reputation would also come into play here, why would someone ever suspect golden boy Oliver Wood, the star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team beating up and hexing people for no reason? It sounded unlikely didn't it? He isn't afraid of getting his hands dirty to ensure your happiness and safety, even if he has to get blood on his hands to make you be with him so be it. You're destined to be with him and he'd eliminate and get rid of anything and everything that would stand against his dream of the two of you being happily married to each other...

[silkenwinger]

lightning crashes

yellowjackets lite, post plane crash (and post getting shot) johnny soap mactavish x reader.

part three. read on ao3

You watch them disappear into the dark wood, Oliver heading the group with the other two flanking him. The forest swallows them whole after a few moments. 

The remaining people at camp keep doing their tasks, this weird normalcy among the abnormal recent events of your lives. Carving out a good piece of wood, to make a bowl, a spoon or a figurine, like the ones in grandmother’s house. Cleaning the fish from any bones, stringing apart the lean meat until only fine strings remain. Obsessively stoking the fire, fearing its quenching like the vestals of old Rome. And cleaning the weapons, even more than once a day. 

You watch Johnny use the thin rod to clean the barrel with an ease given by his experience. While indeed spartan, the previous owner of the house you’re squatting in right now at least knew something about guns, and kept a wide range of accessories to clean them. Solvents and brushes almost outnumbered the amount of food supplies in the cupboard, which was very demoralizing to a starving you when you opened it. Thankfully you know someone who can make use of them.

Johnny sits removed from the group, but not too far, gun pointed towards the void as he works. It’s like a ritual for him: a moment of peace from the nervous chatter, the petulant snipes, the despair in the eyes of others. His head hurts at times too, ghosts of war peeking their way through– he’s good at hiding the pain, but you’ve been attached to the hip for so long now you’ve picked up a lot of his microexpressions. Still, he looks peaceful now, back to you, straight but relaxed, never hunching. It’s now more than ever that he registers as a different entity than the rest of you: a warrior among plebs. For all his joking and protectiveness, you can catch a glimpse of his true nature under the mask. A chaser, someone who stays put the way a lynx waits for its prey. Not a bystander. His reasons for not spearheading the mission-like expedition must run deeper than five scary minutes in the forest.

For the rest of the morning you do little. Check the rudimentary traps close to the cabin (empty, all of them), try to tend to your hair as you can in a small moment of vanity that ends when you remember the remaining shampoo is so little, the less you touch your hair with your hands the less it gets dirty. In the afternoon, you sneak out, almost like a teenager leaving their room on the sly, to do something. Anything. Once the first, unending period of fear ended, and once the hope diminished, as well, boredom started sitting on your bones. On everyone’s, you think. So you keep yourself sane by walking, and doing stuff with your hands. If you find food, even better. There comes a time when hunger is so strong and powerful your limbs can’t move, and you don’t want to reach that point. Ever. 

You make your way through a patch of woods where you’ve previously found some mushrooms (still unidentified, but that you dried and put in a container just in case), the opposite side of where the trio went. Sniffling, you look beneath the plants for any similar luck, moving stems and branches away: but you find only mud and moss. You run your hand on the bark of a fallen tree full of the latter, the touch pleasing and soft. If you close your eyes, and try really really hard, you can visualize the texture of a couch, or a velvet chair, your home or another one. You store the thought in the corner of your mind where the hope resides.

More rustling and checking among the shrubs, and you finally find something worth your time: a bush of blackberries. Exhaling a breath of joyful surprise, you start to pick as many fruit as you possibly can, knees propped on the damp ground. The blackberries are smaller than commercial ones, of course– and you hope their seeds aren’t too big, but beggars can’t be choosers. Halfway through, though, you reckon you probably shouldn’t pick them all in a sitting. Patience and restraint are the key to surviving hardships, and gobbling a new resource the day you found it just feels wasteful. Plus, you will have to share with the others.

At the very start, some had argued everyone should hunt and gather their own food. The extremely individualistic idea never went anywhere: there wasn’t a weapon for everyone, and hunting could also be fruitless for days. At the end, re establishing a minimum of social structure among strangers was the chosen way of living. Everyone contributed with what they could do: and if they didn’t know how to do anything, they learnt from someone who could. You’d taught Martha and a few others the basics of foraging, and a few ways to store food (even though the resources’ limitations made it a challenge). Johnny had taught some not only how to shoot but also how to hunt. When asked about it, he said it just came naturally to him, and there was little difference for him in hunting a stag from hunting a man inside a forest.

Making sure to hold the bag carefully so you don’t smash any fruit inside, you start to make your way out of the woods. There are two landmarks you’ve kept in mind: the fallen tree covered by moss and a big rock just at the start of where the woods start to clear. The sun is still out, but evening falls quite fast here: the moment the sun starts to go down, it’s only half an hour before the sky becomes dark enough not to see further than your feet. You grab a couple of blackberries to munch on as you walk back. 

When you reach the camp again, everyone is huddling around the fire. You can’t see Johnny, though, and it sends an unpleasant spark up your back.

“How’s Aurora?” You ask Martha.

“Way better. Stood up and had a walk before. Where were you?” She asks, tone curious. The light of the fire makes her blonde hair look a lovely amber shade.

The loud, sharp noise of something slamming almost makes your soul leave your body.

“Bonnie! Where the hell were ya!” Shouts Johnny, who apparently was just inside the cabin. You release a breath, and scanning his body, you notice he changed from the morning. He’s wearing that one black sleeveless shirt… Around his neck hang his binoculars, lenses shining. You'd always find it peculiar, how he just had those in his baggage, but after all there's a lot you don't know about him. Maybe he was checking for Oliver and the others?

“I found these,” you tell the group showing them the blackberries. There’s a collective “woo” and “nice”. Johnny leaves the doorstep, and the view of him immediately reaching for you flips your stomach. You smile at him while he walks right next to you, his face pointing towards your bag.

“Want some?” You ask him with a smile, tilting the sachet towards him. Eyes pointed towards the inside, he brushes his arms against yours as he picks a blackberry, fingers almost too big in comparison to the small spheres. He throws one in his mouth with a fluid gesture, and smugly smiles at your slightly impressed expression while he chews.

“Where exactly did you find them?”

“A little past that bit,” you answer, pointing to where you came from.

He hums. Johnny is not the type to pick plants (he could if he needed, but why do it when there’s other people who only know how to do that?) so you don’t know what he will do with that, but if it helps him organize his mental palace, who are you to deny him the information?

You spend the evening sitting at the fire with the others. Everyone gets their share of blackberries, and in return you get some edible flowers and a bit of fish. You would still be starving in normal circumstances, and you do feel a small, almost imperceptible ping; but your stomach and expectations have been restrained, changed, and you don’t suffer as much as you did the first days. 

“And I remember thinking a month or so after, “I should have just gone ahead and told on him”, but in hindsight, everything is easier,” Martha finishes her story, legs crossed. You nod, sipping on water. You brush your knee against Johnny’s almost by accident, almost on purpose. While his eyes were distracted and unfocused a second ago, they seem keenly sharp now as they watch you.

“Should we try planting the little fruit seeds?” Asks Joon, an enthusiastic, if not a bit clueless young man.

“Are you saying we should play farmers? I want to be out of here before the plant can bloom,” mutters Luca, another survivor.

People say their own piece about trying to cultivate, and whether it’s a useless waste of energy, especially now that autumn approaches. 

Meanwhile, Johnny keeps staring at you. It would be uncomfortable in any other situation, you think, a man just keeping his full attention on you. Almost stifling. You look away first, not out of proper embarrassment, but more out of common courtesy towards the people around you. Johnny is far from done, though.

He makes his move when you’re all laughing from a witty banter between Martha and Henry. You can’t even move away from where you’re leaning against his body that he scoops you up in his arms to put you on his lap. You’re so startled and still chuckling that you almost fall face forward in the fireplace, but he grabs you by the neck of the shirt and pulls you against his chest. Breathless, you turn to see his face filled with so much tenderness it sobers you quickly. 

You’ve been feeling so alone. He makes everything better: not only surviving in a physical sense but also mentally, spiritually. Both a tether to the world you come from and a sure thing in hard times like this.

You’re not going away without him.

Linking your arms around his neck, you settle your body so that you can face the others. Your face is on fire, you can feel the blood pooling over; but to your surprise, no one is staring at you and Johnny, like you being in his lap is no big thing.

You run your nails against his arm as another banter session starts.

It must have been an hour outside when it starts to drizzle, little raindrops shifting to bigger ones. Everyone rushes to put most things inside– when it rains, it rains hard, and no one wants their clothes or food spoiled by water of all things. You slide off Johnny’s lap remorsefully and as an apology you pet his hair, almost like you would a cat. He leans happily into it for the one second it lasts.

A brief question strikes your mind– what about Oliver and company? But by yourself you reason they’ll be covered by the high trees.

A thunder wakes you during the night, flash of lighting appearing on the darkness of your eyelid. It’s still raining, heavy water passing through the rudimentary gutters and no doubt flooding the outside corners of the cabin. Beneath the sound of the rain, though, you hear the door opening and closing softly. That wakes you completely. Who in their right mind goes outside with this weather? You think it could be someone who has to go about their business and doesn't want to wake up everyone using the (rudimentary as well) toilet. But still, you will try to wait for them to come back. 

You wait. Still, they do not come back inside. You’re starting to worry now, and even if the rain has ceased to fall as hard as before, you worry they might have fainted or lost their way. You get up and avoid the sleeping bodies on the ground to grab the holy, almost untouchable flashlight on the table. It’s supposed to be used only on emergencies, and the grand council, now attended by just you, has decided this counts as one.

You light it up as you’re near to the window to try and look out of it, but it’s too small to really catch more than what is just outside. You cross over to the door and open it, not yet closing it back as you try to look in front of you. When you hear a sleepy mumble lamenting the cold, you close it behind you. Walking right next to the cabin, hand on the wall to guide you, you keep pointing the flashlight towards the forest, but you can’t see anyone. Starting from the ground, you make several horizontal swipes, trying to catch as much as you can. You circle the whole house, becoming more and more anxious and alert to any and every sound, but you can’t hear anything but the remaining trickling of water. Turning the last corner of the cabin, your light painting finally illuminates a back, and the rush of panic that runs through is so pure it’s a wonder you don’t scream. It’s extinguished in a second, though.

“Johnny! What the fuck are you doing outside?!” You whisper yell to him, and if he’s surprised, he has no external reaction. He turns to look at you as if he was watching a match on tv and not the dark forest at night as it rains. Like this is a very normal thing to do. And God, he’s soaked! Isn’t he cold?

“Thought I would check if they were back on their way,” he says simply, and you almost make a sad, cooing sound in empathy. It’s weird, though. You could have sworn he didn’t really care about them. And it’s been less than a day. Whatever could they have accomplished, even walking for hours? But tired as you are, you don’t really vocalize all of that.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” you sigh, “and they don’t want you getting ill for them. Come inside,” you plead.

He grins a bit too wide.

“Sure thing, love.”

Days pass. There’s this push and pull with Johnny, your own will-they-won’t-they skewing decisively towards will-they, but you’re somehow pushing it back, too. Besides his weird surveillance methods, Johnny is still flirty and touchy-feely, and you’re crushing so hard on him you just want him to not fall sick over worry. You’d like to have a really private moment with him, too, but it’s not happening. Not as the nights pass and there’s no sign of the three men that left, and everyone is growing extremely jumpy and scared.

And the paranoia only erupts when you find George’s ratty shirt by the river one morning.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Hey, I just read your Derry Girls 'your mum rang me' oliver wood one shot and was wondering if you could do like a weasley reader (maybe percys twin) and do the scene in last series in Derry Girls where erin and james kiss and Michelle is like 'this is incest!'

No problem if can't and sorry if I've spoiled!!! X

We're Not Related

Oliver Wood x Weasley!Reader 0.9k words Warnings: some kissing, potential Derry Girls spoilers Sorry this took so long! I've been in an absolute writing funk that I'm finally coming out of. Thank you for this request, I love getting to steal Derry Girls dialogue! I cackled writing this!

~

Oliver gazed down with a smile. His girlfriend- Merlin, he really got to call her his girlfriend!- was laying on his bed reading a book. The quiet, private time together made faking sick and skipping a trip to Hogsmeade worth it.

A tiny, quiet part of Oliver felt kind of guilty. As much as he tried to deny it, deep down inside he really did consider Percy Weasley a friend. Probably his best friend, oddly enough. The three of them had hung out regularly since their second year, sometimes adding Penelope Clearwater to the mix. So going behind his back and dating his twin sister was…. not something Oliver felt great about. But he wasn’t ready for whatever fallout would follow Percy finding out about them.

Instead, he watched her, her Weasley-red hair splayed out beneath her, his heart full of the affection he’d been carrying for the past three months. As if she could feel the heat of his gaze, she looked up, scrunching her freckled nose.

“You’re staring at me,” she observed with a little hum.

“And?” Oliver replied, his soft smile morphing into a smirk.

She shrugged, putting down her book. “D’you need something?”

Oliver helped her sit up and pulled her close to himself. “Nah, got everything I need right here.”

It was a cheesy line. Incredibly lame. It should have made her roll her eyes. But because it was Oliver Wood who said it, gazing at her with those honey eyes, his arms doing that flexing thing that drove her mad, it actually worked. Before she knew it, she and Oliver were locked in an embrace, lips moving in sync, hands gripping tight to wherever they landed. Just as Oliver was gently pushing her back onto the bed, the door opened-

“Oh, you sick, sick bastards.”

Percy Weasley stood in the doorway, Honeydukes package in his hand, his face even paler than usual as his wide eyes surveyed the scene before him.

His twin sister sat up, fixing her hair. “Listen, Percy-”

“This is incest!” Percy sputtered, absently tossing the chocolates onto his own bed. Chocolates he had bought in hopes that it would cheer up his supposedly sick roommate.

His definitely-not-sick roommate made a face. “No, it’s not.”

Percy nodded. “Yes, it is, Oliver.”

“We’re not related,” Oliver pointed out, gesturing between himself and the girl who should absolutely not be in the boys’ dorm, let alone on Oliver’s bed.

“Oh, and that makes it okay, I suppose?” Percy had never felt this level of disgust and abhorrence, and maybe even a little betrayal.

His sister snorted. “Well, it makes it not incest,” she mumbled.

Percy was pacing the small room at this point, his face now beginning to redden and match his smattering of freckles. “Right. Okay. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and say that Oliver had a very nasty head injury from last night’s practice, and you-” He pointed to his sister. “-drank a botched batch of Amortentia, which has caused you to think that Wood here is an appropriate snogging partner.”

She huffed, now officially tired of her brother’s nonsense. “This is none of your business, Perce.”

The prefect’s face now matched his tie. “Oh, but it is, troll face.” His resorting to childhood insults was a sure sign of his anger. “It is very much my business. This can’t happen, okay? You two can’t get together because, putting aside the face that it makes me want to hurl, if you get together, you’ll break up, and then where does that leave me, Wood?” His gaze turned to Oliver, begging his roommate to understand. “You might be my best friend, but she’s my sister, and like it or not, I’ll have to stick with her. Don’t put me in that position.”

Oliver jumped off the bed and rushed to Percy’s side, placing a hand gently on the Weasley boy’s shoulder. “I’m your best friend, Weasley?” His honey eyes were wide, full of wonder.

“Of course,” Percy scoffed. “Aren’t I yours?”

For the first time, Oliver said the words every other Gryffindor already knew: “Yeah, you’re my best friend, Percy.”

The two boys stood, smiling at each other, relieved to finally admit their fondness for one another after years of grumbling whenever someone called them anything more than roommates.

The sound of someone clearing their throats brought them out of their tender moment.

“That’s great and all,” Percy’s sister- no, Oliver’s girlfriend- murmured. “But that doesn’t solve Percy’s… issue.”

Oliver’s cheeks reddened. “Right. Right.” He turned back to his best friend. “Listen, Weasley.” He straightened himself up. “I really like your sister. And we’ve been together three months now, and I’d like to keep seeing her. But I also don’t want to keep it secret from you anymore.” He shrugged. “I dunno. If you can’t trust your best friend to treat your sister right, who can ya trust?”

Percy narrowed his eyes a moment, turning over Oliver’s words in his mind. He had a point.

“You know if you hurt her, I know plenty of spells, right? And I’m not exactly going to punish myself for breaking any rules?”

Oliver nodded earnestly. “Yeah, yeah I know.” He gave Percy a small smack on the back. “We’re good then?”

With a sigh, Percy nodded. “We’re good.” He smiled at Oliver, the two of them officially lost in their own world.

Back on the bed, there came a small sigh. “Merlin, I wish we’d just kept this a secret.”

[writing-in-the-impala]

Ridikkulis - (Remus Lupin x Reader) One Shot

Request: Hiii i Just read your Last Post for Secret smokes and Had an Idea. How about a oneshot of Professor Lupine x Student reader. Its time to learn the ridikkulus spell and its Readers Turn. When the boggart comes Out tho... Is a werewolf. Reader ist too scared to defend themselves and Lupine is too stunned to Help for a Moment. (Tw: blood Optional:) in that Split Second, the boggart werewolf attacks reader and it becomes a lil bloodY. Anything after that Scene IS Up to you <;3

TW: Blood, description of scars

Pairing: Professor! Remus Lupin x Student Reader

Word Count: 2458

A/N: Hello, I received this a while ago and finally got around to posting it, I’ve never written based on requests so I hope this is what you wanted. I’m sorry if I didn’t get it right. ❤️‍🔥 Also if you want to submit a request go ahead! It may take me while to get around to it but definitely it’s fun to do something based on other people’s ideas.

The thunder rumbled outside as you approached the defence against the dark arts classroom. The castle had a darker feeling to it this year with dementors circling the grounds but Professors Lupins lessons bought some positivity into your days. He was one of the few teachers at school that seemed to know what he was doing and his charisma made you feel warm and safe. Everyone loved his lessons. You didn't really know him well, but you wishes you did. You would often sit in class and think about what he must be really like outside of school, you imagined a friendly yet charismatic man with a hint of mischief.

As you entered his class the room looked almost dark from the clouds outside, Professor Lupin wasn't there when you arrived. Everyone sat down as usual, took out their books, quills and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as handsome as ever as he slowly took his jacket off and cleared his throat.

"Good afternoon," he said in a loud voice making the whole class go silent. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands."

Everyone smiled excitedly, Lupin was new but he already set a good impression as the teacher who let you use real magic. He made the lessons jump off the page. So everyone shut their books and stood right up as Lupin waved his hand causing all the tables and chairs to fly to the side of the room. "Now then, Oliver please will you give me a hand with that wardrobe over there." He gestured for Oliver Wood who nodded and helped Lupin push a large wooden wardrobe into the center of the room. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall."Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly, as a few people jumped backwards in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there." Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about but everyone trusted Lupin to keep them safe. "Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks - I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give you some real practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?" Lupin look around the room but no one put their hands up, you knew the answer but you didn't want to bring attention to yourself. Lupins eyes scanned the room and landed on you, he gave you a warm smile and you shook your head but his smile just grew larger as he said your name.

"It's a shape-shifter sir." You began with a quiet voice looming around the class as everyone turned to face you. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better my-self," he said with a large smile on his face and a quick wink towards you. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.This means, that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Miss L/N?"

Why did he have to pick on you every time. "Er - because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?" You guessed.

"Precisely, it's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake - tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening." He got a few laughs from the class, loud ones from the group of girls who liked him most. "The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amus-ing.

“We will practise the charm without wands first. After me, please ... riddikulus!”

'Riddikulus!' said the class together.

 “Good,” said Pro­fes­sor Lupin. 'Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Jack.' He said picking on the most shy and scared boy in the class.

“Right, Jack,” said Pro­fes­sor Lupin putting his hand on the boys shoulder as he bought him to the front of the class. “First things first: what would you say is the thing that fright­ens you most in the world”

Jack’s lips moved, but no noise came out. “Didn't catch that, Jack, sor­ry,” said Pro­fes­sor Lupin cheer­ful­ly and gently. Jack explained it would be a spider and Lupin told him how a boy in a different class who was scared of spiders put roller blades on the legs so it was sliding around.

“If Jack is suc­cess­ful, the Bog­gart is like­ly to turn his at­ten­tion to each of us in turn,” said Professor Lupin. “I would like all of you to take a mo­ment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imag­ine how you might force it to look com­ical …’

The room went qui­et. You­ thought … What scared you most in the world? You thought about many things but the thing that won was a Werewolf. But how do you make that funny? You thought about turning it into a puppy, a little dog, not a big one, a big one if it bites you can still hurt you so it had to be something like a chihuahua.

“Ev­ery­one ready?” said Pro­fes­sor Lupin enthusiastically as he hit play on the record player.

“Jack, we’re go­ing to back away,’ said Pro­fes­sor Lupin. ‘Let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next per­son for­ward … ev­ery­one back, now, so Jack can get a clear shot –“

Your whole class re­treat­ed, back­ing against the wall, leav­ing Jack alone be­side the wardrobe. He looked pale and fright­ened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was hold­ing his wand ready.

“On the count of three, Jack,” said Pro­fes­sor Lupin, who was point­ing his own wand at the han­dle of the wardrobe. ‘One – two – three – now!’

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Pro­fes­sor Lupin’s wand and hit the door­knob. The wardrobe burst open and a ton of spiders crawled out followed by a huge one, sending shivers even down your spine. Jack backed away, his wand up, mouthing word­less­ly. “R-​r-​rid­diku­lus!” squeaked Jack. There was a noise like a whip-​crack. And the spiders were rolling around on roller blades.

There was a roar of laugh­ter; the Bog­gart paused, con­fused, and Pro­fes­sor Lupin shout­ed. “James! Your turn!” James walked forwards as commanded and the boggart shifted again, he did the spell and everyone laughed again. You were finding it quite enjoyable everyone was laughing and having fun every person in the line looked worried but you all managed to laugh. You almost forgot that you’ll have to face your fear too. Before you knew it, it was your turn, you walked up after a girl named Jasmine Floyd and you shot Lupin a glance as you were filled with anxiety and dread. He smiled at you and shot you a wink before looking at the Boggart that was in the air transforming, the room was filled with a light mood but you felt nothing but fear. A giant furry werewolf with blood all over its fur and giant teeth towered over you, blocking out any light from above. You suddenly felt so small as fear filled you body, you repeated Lupins words in your head, you pictured it as a small barking chihuahua at your feet, you repeated the spell in your mind, then you looked at Lupin before raising your wand… his face was filled with fear, any sense of laughter was gone, he was frozen starring up at the wolf as you were. You realised that maybe you won’t be able to defeat it, that’s when you tried to say the spell but you felt yourself being pushed down to the floor. As you hit the floor a sharp pain shot through your arm, the wolf was above you, that’s when Lupin threw himself in front of you. “Rid­diku­lus!” He shouted as a white orb appeared over you. “Everyone, class is over, please leave.” He shouted as he kneeled over you. You looked around at all the students who were looking at you, their faces not too unalike Lupins when he was looking at the wolf, Lupin was looking at you, saying words. His hands had blood all over them as he moved them wrapping his blazer around you. “I’m so sorry,” was the only thing you could make. He looked so nice above you, you thought and that’s when you felt yourself being lifted. “Stay with me.” You heard him repeat as you walked through the corridor. “In your room?” You asked, curious of if he’s flirting with you. He laughed but his face was filled with dread. “I’m glad you still have a sense of humour Miss L/N.” He said and after that you felt your head feel very light and fuzzy before everything went black.

You felt a bit woozy as you woke up, you were sweating, you opened your eyes and you realised you’re in the hospital wing, it was dark. Your eyes scanned the room as you slowly looked around to see Professor Lupin sleeping next to you on a chair with a book in his lap. You didn’t say anything as you moved around trying to understand what happened and that’s when he came to. “Y/N? Oh thank Merlin. Poppy! Poppy Y/N awake.” He said a bit too loudly for the middle of the night.

“I told you she’ll be fine, Remus, you never listen.” Madam Pomfrey said as she came over to your bed. “You’ve still got a fever darling, you’ll have to sleep here tonight, how are you feeling?”

“I have a sharp pain in my left side.” You said trying to sit up, Professor Lupin had almost puppy dog eyes as he looked down at you, he seemed worried you weren’t sure why. “What happened?” You asked as Madam Pomfrey walked away to get some pain relief potion.

“It’s my fault I’m awfully sorry, the Boggaart it got close enough to hurt you. It was a..it was a werewolf.” You never heard this tone of voice on Lupin he sounded hurt and defeated, almost like the life was drained out of him by a demantour. “Horrible creatures, it happened so quickly, it got to you before I managed to stop it, I’m so awfully sorry. Madam Pomfrey said the cut shouldn’t scar you’ll be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is, I should’ve stopped it, horrible creatures. All they do is hurt people, I froze for a moment, I am your teacher I shouldn’t have allowed it.” He said angry at himself.

“You know they’re innocent people.” You said gently.

“Who?”

“The wolves, I don’t appreciate you calling them horrible creatures, they’re just sick, like I am right now.” You said and Lupins expression became hard to read.

“But it hurt you, and you fear it, how come you’re so forgiving.”

“Well a boggart hurt me not a real wolf. Besides I think you can be scared but understand it. You or I could be bit by one, and our lives would change forever that’s what I’m scared of, I’m scared of what would happen to me, unlike a dog attack a wolf attack makes people look down on you, call them stuff like a kind man like you even said. Don’t you find that terrifying professor?” You asked and he had a small warm smile.

“You’re very smart for your age. I found it terrifying to have a students blood on my hands first week on the job.” He said and you laughed but it hurt to laugh. He held your hand as you were hit by the pain. “I’m awfully sorry, that’s the last time I make the mistake of a practical lesson.”

“Professor as a student who bled all over your floor I beg you not to stop these lessons, it’s the only fun we have at Hogwarts. Maybe some safety shields would help.” You said and he squeezed your hand and have you a warm smile.

“Duly noted.” He said and shot you a wink as Madam Pomfrey came back with a potion.

“Please sit up for me love, this will help stop the pain and prevent any scars.” She said as you sat up slowly, Lupin helping adjust the pillow below you.

“Shame, I like the battle scar, I defeated a werewolf and lived to tell the story.” Lupin cleaned his throat. “I think I defeated it.” He said making you laugh.

“Yeah but I’m the one with the battle scar.” You winked at him and he laughed in truth this time, with one hand on your shoulder to comfort you as you drank the disgusting potion as if he knew exactly how bad it will taste.

“Professor, I believe this young girl will be okay now that she’s woken up you do not have to spend all night here.” Pomfrey said as she took the empty vial from you.

“Thank you Poppy, but I prefer to stay just in case, this is all my fault after all.” He said looking over you warmly, you appreciated his company. As Pomfrey walked away you turned to him and asked him what he was reading, he told you the name of the book and you asked if he could read it out loud. He agreed and just like that you drifted to sleep, Remus J Lupins voice washing you into sweet slumber as your head rested on his shoulder. Remus felt comfort being by your side, he was relived you were okay and truly amazed by the lack of hate you had for the creature that nearly killed you. The creature you were sleeping so peacefully on.

MASTER LIST | Remus Lupin x Reader series

Requests are open however they will be slow as I'm busy writing Secret Smokes!

[pinkxlicious]

Oliver Wood x Reader

Kind of short, but this is an old oneshot from my wattpad that isn't as cringey as some of my other fics/oneshots.

Word: 1048

~~~

"Can we go back inside, Oli?" you pleaded, it was almost 3am yet Oliver was still partying hard with some other Gryfindors. All of your friends had went back to their dorms to sleep, so the only person you could stay with was Oliver.

You were afraid of walking back into the school alone since you were scared of the dark and lately Hogwarts was not the safest place to be. Voldemort was alive, and yet no one seemed to be phased by that.

"Oli?? Can you even hear me?!" you said loudly as you tugged on his sweater. Oli simply shrugged you off and shot you an annoyed look.

"Fuck off..." His words were slurred from all the drinks he had. Oliver then proceeded to prance over to the twins within a blink of an eye, leaving you alone in darkness with barely any time to process everything through your head.

"Oliver!" you called as you went after him, he knew about your fear but his drunken self didn't seem to care about that. He just kept on prancing around the dimly lighted field with you running after him with paranoia and anxiety flooding your systems as he moved towards the darker areas of the field.

"Oliver please!!! Let's go inside Im scared, please..." you begged as you kept watch of your surroundings, terrified that a death eater would jump out and beat your dumbass to death.

You slowed down as you were running out of stamina. You couldn't run anymore so you stopped and tried to listen to his footsteps in the grass. But they grew softer as he ran further away from you, everyone has already left. The only people you could see were the twins heading back inside the school with their wands lit with light. But just your luck! You had forgot your wand in your dorm. So you stood there in silence trying so hard to hear to any sound.

You heard absolutely nothing as your hands started to shake in fear, you were alone in a dark field with no human being in sight, no wand, no weapon, no flashlight. You slowly got to the ground and tried to calm yourself down and figure out how to get back to Oliver.

Luckily the air was warm so you wouldn't have to worry about dying of frostbite. It had been a good five to ten minutes so Oliver was already long gone. There were no stars in the sky and the moon was hidden within thick dark clouds. You could barely see and you had no idea where the school was as you couldn't trust your self to head in the right direction.

Every soft rustle of nature gave you a mini heart attack. You curled up into a ball in the grass and wrapped yourself up in your jacket to comfort yourself. And as minutes passed you grew more and more exhausted, but yet you were terrified to fall asleep. And you were terrified to go back, scared that you would go in the wrong direction like a blind bat and navigate to the even darker forbidden forest. What if you fell into a trap?? You still remember little Harry Potter telling you about that dark figure he had seen in the forest during detention.

It was probably past 3am, you felt yourself fall asleep in the grassy fields. You tried to stop yourself, but there was no use. You weren't going anywhere because of your fear, staying in one spot was stupid but it was the best option since you were afraid to even twitch, terrified that the slightest noise would attract something horrible to come your way.

. . .

"What's she doing here?" a sweet voice said,

"I Don't know," a deep voice responded.

You suddenly felt a shake on your shoulder and your eyes were then blinded by sunlight. You groaned as you realized you were luckily still in the same spot as you were last night. Nothing has happened to you.

"Sorry to wake you, but we have quidditch practice!" You recognized the girl as Angelina Johnson.

"Angelina?" you said confused,

"Oh honey what are you doing here?? I could barely recognize you, no offense but you're a mess!" Angelina cried as she pulled out a live of grass from your hair. She helped you up and help you get rid of the dirt on your clothes.

"Oliver left me here," you said shakily as everything processed through your head. "H-He was drunk and he started running and I went after him because I- I was scared and then he got away and he never came back!" you said quickly as Angelina pulled you into a hug. She was one of your best friends and knew about your fear of the dark.

"Im sorry sweetie, Im sure he didn't mean it on purpose," Angelina said softly, "but if you want me to, I can beat him with a broomstick."

You grinned and giggled a little bit, before you noticed Oliver stumbling onto the field with bags under his eyes.

He was having a hang over.

"Was Oliver in the common room last night?" you asked curiously, wanting to know if he made it back to the school.

"Yes, he was babbling about how he wishes- oh never mind," Angelina said giving you a quick smile,

"No, tell me," you said looking at her expectingly. She cringed,

"It's nothing good though..." she trailed off

"Just tell me please,"

"...He said that he wishes that- that you could just leave him alone.. then he said some not so nice things about you," Angelina said frowning, "Im so sorry honey, I probably shouldn't have said anything." she said as she noticed your frown and the look of hurt in your eyes.

"No, it's my fault, I wanted to know," you said sighing and rubbing your eyes. "I'll see you later, I just need to get refreshed... thank Merlin it's a Saturday..." You referred to your dirty clothes and messy hair, Angelina nodded and gave you a sympathetic smile.

"Take care of yourself okay? Don't think too much of Oliver, okay? He doesn't deserve to be thought of at the moment," Angelina said before blowing you a kiss goodbye as you made your way back to the school, that was closer than it seemed from last night.

[l-uminescentt]

˚⁀➷｡˚ REQUESTS ━━━━OPEN!

hi! if you guys have any requests for me to do or if you just want to chat (i love making bffs), press ‘⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊ ⊹ talk to me!’ in my bio

i only do character x fem! reader requests (just bc i feel like i won’t do female! character x female reader or, male! character x male! reader any justice)

so just give me the character you want, & a short summary and i’ll get writing! — as i still run my hotd blog i’m just going to prioritise regulus, remus & oliver wood requests (my faves)

all characters will be aged over 18, which will normally be stated in my notes before each one-shot.)

[z0mbieb0ybyersblog]

request rules!

HOW TO REQUEST

— requests can be sent through my inbox! aka the button on my profile that says request

— state the character, romantic or platonic, the format of the request, and what you want with it

— do you have any specifics for the reader? male, female, blonde, poc, etc?

— PLEASE ACTUALLY SPECIFY WHAT YOU WANT WITH YOUR REQUEST!! ITS VERY HARD FOT ME TO WRITE SOMETHING THAT JUST SAYS "___ x reader (blank)" WITH NO FURTHER EXPLANATION! GIVE ME A PLOT IDEA! And if you want include a prompt you want in it!

WHAT I WILL WRITE:

└▸

male, female, and gender neutral reader

or no reader, I do ships too!!

alternative universe: soulmates, coffee shop, roommates, royal, bookstore, fake relationship, coworkers, neighbors, flower shop, library, bodyguard, modern era, band/rockstar, celebrity, mermaid, pirate, teachers (you can also mix them in your request, like asking for bookstore and coffee shop au! if that makes sense)

Headcanons, one-shots, drabble, imagine, etc.

poly relationships, whether it be character x reader x character or character x character x character 

angst

fluff

smut

omega verse

WHAT I WONT WRITE:

└▸

illegal ships (incest or underage)

dark or yandere

abuse

abortion

pregnancy

someone having cancer

rape/sexual assault

canonically gay characters with fem identifying readers/characters, same thing with canonically lesbian characters with masc identifying readers/characters (platonically is fine, romantically isnt)

character list

bolded means they’re my favorite characters to write!

DOCTOR WHO

Nine, Ten, Eleventh, Thirteen, Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, Jack Harkness, Donna Noble

RED, WHITE, & ROYAL BLUE

Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry, June Claremont-Diaz, Nora Holleran, Bea

TED LASSO

Ted Lasso, Jamie Tartt, Roy Kent, Keeley Jones, Rebecca Welton

STRANGER THINGS

Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson

THE OUTSIDERS

Ponyboy Curtis, Johnny Cade, Sodapop Curtis, Darry Curtis, Steve Randall, Twobit Matthews, Dallas Winston

MARVEL

Matt Murdock, Peter Parker (Tobey, Andrew, Tom), Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff

[more to be added]

911 FOX

Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Maddie Buckley, Howie Han

STAR WARS

Luke Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

[more to be added]

HARRY POTTER

— golden trio era

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Cedric Diggory, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Oliver Wood, Draco Malfoy

— marauders era

Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Potter, Lily Evans, Pandora Lovegood, Regulus Black, Dorcas Meadows, Marlene McKinnon, Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Roiser, Alice Fortescue, Mary MacDonald, Narcissa Black

[If you want one of these characters, like Remus for example to be older like during the Harry Potter movies let me know!]

— legacy era

Sebastian Sallow, Amit Thakkar, Poppy Sweeting, Natsai Onai, Garreth Weasley, Ominis Gaunt

[m3nta11yunstab13]

Requesting

I am having the worst writers block so feel free to request.

REQUEST RULES

NO

I will not write for a lot of kinks, mostly because I don't feel personally comfortable with them. I also will not write detailed smut as I just am really not good at it. I will also not write poly relationships.

I won't write anything including non-con, dub-con, stalking, pedophilia, age gap, student x teacher, or bodily harm coming to reader including self harm or suicide as those are triggers. I am also sorry to all non-binary and male readers, but I cannot write for y'all as I have no experience being non-binary or a guy. I will mostly write headcannons unless I can come up with a one-shot for the request.

YES

I will feel comfortable doing pregnancy, suggestive or non descriptive smut, such as headcannons I have on what a character would be like during that time, dating, marriage, aging up characters to fit a request if you want a mature headcannon, and I will write about the topic of periods. I will also write fem!reader x characters. Feel free to request something personal such as a certain feature, headcannons including tit size, hair length, weight, personality trait, etc. and I can write something for that as well.

KINKS -Lactation kink -Breeding kink -Hair pulling(?) -Spanking -Semi public -Oral(both ways)

CHARACTERS I WILL WRITE FOR

JUJUTSU KAISEN -Gojo Satoru -Nanami Kento -Yuji Itadori -Fushiguro Megumi -Yuta Okkotsu -Zenin Maki -Nobara Kugisaki

HARRY POTTER -Cedric Diggory -Percy Weasley -Oliver Wood -Harry Potter -Ron Weasley -Fred Weasley -George Weasley -Collin Creevey -Hermione Granger -Ginny Weasley -Remus Lupin -Nymphadora Tonks -Sirius Black

HOGWARTS LEGACY -Sebastian Sallow -Ominis Gaunt -Natsai Onai -Poppy Sweeting -Amit Thakkar -Garreth Weasley -Leander Prewett -Aesop Sharp -Mirabel Garlick

MAZE RUNNER -Newt -Gally -Minho

BAULDER'S GATE 3 -Halsin -Gale -Will -Astarion -Shadowheart -Laezel -Karlach

Please message me if you have any questions about characters I will write for, things I feel comfortable writing about, and any other questions you may have. Please also be respectful when requesting and please allow me to take time to write and publish on Tumblr. It takes time and effort to write for these characters.

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

His passion [Oliver Wood x Reader] 18+

Title: His passion Pairing: Oliver Wood x Female!Reader Word count: 2.4k Published: 23 October, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warning: Explicit language, Pure 18+ SMUT, please do not read if you are under 18.  Disclaimer: Both characters are of age! Summary: Oliver has been walking up and down the room half naked, going on and on about Quidditch for the last hour and you are losing your patience, up until you turn his attention to you. 

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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Oliver was always a leader type of person. His classmates looked up to him, his housemates respected his mere presence, his friends asked him for advice, his quidditch team listened to his every word, doing exactly what they were told – most of the times at least, sometimes with a couple of eye rolls included.

There was only one person who never succumbed to Oliver’s leading demeanour and that was you. You were confident, bright and just as much of a leader as he was. Your relationship was well balanced, sometimes you made decisions, sometimes he initiated things.

It was no different in the bedroom. Roles were always switched up, toys used to find each other’s limits. Oliver wasn’t an innocent little boy, nor were you. But it was noone else’s business, things stayed behind closed doors.

Oliver was rambling about the quidditch practice for the last hour, annoying you to no end. You loved his passion, it was present not just in the sport, but his relationships with his family, friends and well, you and your sex life.

You tried to listen to his non-stop complaints, but the boy didn’t seem to want to stop any time soon and his half-naked, toned body, only wearing some old sweatpants, didn’t help you to concentrate any better. Your eyes wandered to his muscled forearms, imagining as he held your hands above your head with one hand, his other buried between your thighs, his fingers showing you pleasure you never knew existed. You shook your head, trying to focus on your boyfriend instead of your currently inappropriate thoughts.

He kept walking up and down his room, his hands flailing around, growling in anger. His voice reminded you the way he groaned your name when your mouth was wrapped around his length. Your thighs rubbed together involuntarily, trying to get some friction at your dirty thoughts.

You heaved a deep sigh, feeling fed up. You stood up from the side of his bed, your damp panties making you groan. His simple presence could cause a whole pool in your underwear and he didn’t even realise it. You scoffed at your silly behaviour, waving your wand towards the door as the lock clicked, followed by being covered by a silencing charm.

You placed your wand beside the bed, on top of the wooden nightstand, before you started removing your tie, throwing it at the headboard of the bed. You unbuttoned the first four buttons on your white uniform shirt, revealing the black laced bra you were wearing underneath.

You walked up to the boy, whose attention was still focused on the stupid game. You didn’t necessarily think it was stupid, hell you loved quidditch, but Oliver was beyond annoying and his ignorance towards you, the way he made you feel, the thoughts he made you think, earned your dominant side to resurface.

You were standing in front of him, your shirt revealing more than it was supposed to, your cleavage on full view, but he seemed to be more interested in his own ranting. You grabbed his hips as he turned back to you and pulled him flush against you, your breasts pushed against his chest. His eyes widened in surprise; his breathing hitched as he realised what was going on around him.

His eyes wandered down to your lips, before continuing to explore the exposed collarbones, stopping right at your cleavage. His tongue darted out of his mouth, wetting his lips. His eyes were filled with lust, his facial expression screaming how much he wanted you, his breathing shaky. You bit into your bottom lip in anticipation for a kiss, but he didn’t move. Slowly, but steadily the boy started getting on your nerves.

You stood on your tiptoes, forcefully smashing your lips against his as your hand grabbed his neck, pulling him down to you. You ran your fingers through his soft, short hair, tugging on the ends you could hold, making him groan into the kiss. His arm sneaked around your waist, pulling you against him even closer, leaving no more space between your bodies.

You started backing him towards the bed, the boy letting you lead without hesitation. Quidditch was long gone from his mind, he could only think of your naked body melting together with his, making you scream his name in pleasure. His hands wandered down to your butt, firmly grabbing them.

Your kisses trailed down to his neck, finding his most sensitive spot, gently biting it, before sucking on it to sooth the stinging pain. He could barely focus on his surroundings; his complete attention was on you. He didn’t even realise when the back of his knee pressed against the edge of the bed, only when he fell back on the mattress. He pulled you down to him once again, capturing your lips with his, squeezing your butt as you placed a knee on each side of him, straddling his seated form.

You moaned into the kiss as you felt his erection under the thin material of his sweatpants. His lips trailed down to your neck, leaving open mouth kisses on the surface of your soft skin, grazing it gently with his teeth as he saw the little goosebumps appear on your skin. He chuckled into your skin, enjoying the effects he had on you.

You groaned, not wanting him to take control. You started circling your hips in his lap, his fingers harshly digging into your hips.

“Don’t play with me, love.” He moaned as he struggled to stop your moving hips.

“I have been listening to your rambling for the past five hours. Just shut it, will you?” You spoke as you pushed him down on the bed, pecking his lips. He started backing up towards the headboard, somewhat enjoying your dominance over him. A naughty smile appeared across your face as a sudden idea came to you. The boy halted as his head almost hit the headboard. You crawled over him, straddling him once again, before reaching for your wand beside the bed.

He furrowed at your action, but he didn’t have time to question it. Before he realised it, you waved your wand and his hands were captured above his head to the headboard with your tie. He groaned, annoyed at the situation he found himself in.

“How am I supposed to touch you like this?” He asked with a deep groan. An innocent smile appeared across your lips as you shrugged in a reply.

“You are not.” You giggled as you moved your hips. He threw his head backwards, trying to ignore the frictions you created between your bodies.

“Come on.” He breathed as he tried to free his hands, tugging on the ties, but you just giggled.

“It’s not as fun to be tied up as it seem, am I right?” You smirked proudly as you leaned down to him, kissing him passionately, before you pulled back, leaving him wanting more.

“Leannan, please, not now.” He groaned, but you were not one to just give up. You started slowly unbuttoning your shirt, before throwing it on the floor. Oliver’s eyes darkened at the sight of your body, his eyes admiring your breasts hidden behind the laced bra.

“I love it when you beg.” You chuckled as the boy rolled his eyes. You reached for his lips again, kissing him feverishly, craving his body more than ever. But you couldn’t give up just yet. You had a plan. You trailed down to his neck, sucking on the soft skin, his hips bucking up against your heated core. You chuckled at his impatience.

You continued leaving small kisses on his shoulder, his collarbone, before you reached his perked up, pink nipples. You licked one of them, your tongue swirling around the sensitive spot, a loud moan leaving Oliver’s lungs.

“Someone is enjoying himself.” You chuckled as you sucked on his nipple, a deep groan coming from him as your finger played with the other nipple, drawing little circles around it. You continued your way down the boy’s toned abs, admiring the fine lines. Quidditch wasn’t the only thing that helped him look like a Greek god, he loved to exercise on his own just as much. Sometimes with you, which often turned into a heated make out session. Or more.

You trailed down to his waistband, tugging on the trousers and boxer, slowly pulling them down, taunting the boy, whose eyes were fixed on your movements. You smirked as you looked at his dazed expression. He was completely and utterly under your spell.

You barely left his pelvis, when his length sprung out of the trouser, making you grin excitedly. Oh, how badly you wanted him, but you couldn’t just give in. Not just yet. You pulled down his sweatpants and underwear, throwing it on the floor, right beside your shirt.

You leaned down to his cock, licking across its length. Oliver’s breath hitched as his penis twitched under your slight attention.

“Eager, are we?” You giggled as you licked the tip, a deep groan leaving his mouth. He bit into his bottom lip, trying to suppress his voice.

“Just wait until I’m free.” He warned, but honestly, you couldn’t wait for him to get his hand on you.

“I guess, we will have to wait with that.” You smirked as you wrapped your hands around his cock, squeezing it gently, his hips bucking up against your hand, impatiently needing frictions. “Don’t be impatient, darling.” You teased as you moved your hand slowly up and down on his length, taunting the boy.

You leaned down, taking the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive skin, before pulling back, his hips moving under you involuntarily. Your hands moved up and down as slowly as you could manage, your tongue barely touching his skin, teasing him.

“Please.” He breathed, begging you. You felt bad for him, but you enjoyed it too much to stop. His mindless state was worth it. You leaned down, taking his length in your mouth, the rest of it stroked by your hand. Your lips sealed around his shaft, your head bobbing up and down, speeding up the tempo as you heard his uneven breathing.

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, precum leaking into your mouth as you tasted him. His hips moved up against your mouth, waiting for the pure pleasure as he got closer to his orgasm. You could feel his movements getting sloppier, his climax nearing, his lips moaning your name, before you stopped abruptly and left his twitching cock.

An animalistic growl left his lungs, missing your lips around him. “Why?” He asked as his legs relaxed against the mattress, his chest falling rapidly.

“What’s the fun in letting you come?” You asked giggling as you removed his precum from the corner of your lips, before licking off the tip of your finger, his eyes following every movement of yours, his heightened attention completely focused on you.

You crawled up to him, kissing his lips, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth, massaging his tongue eagerly. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. You stood up from him, standing beside the bad. You didn’t remove your skirt, however you started slowly pulling down your lacey black panties, completely drenched in your juice. You held it up on top of your finger, looking at Oliver’s dazed expression.

You threw your panties on the floor, climbing back on top of Oliver, positioning yourself on his hard cock. However, you weren’t ready to let him enjoy himself just yet. You circled your hips around him, your fingers getting lost under your skirt as your started playing with your clit. A loud moan left your lungs as you felt your climax slowly build up, your hips moving faster around his length, his head falling back as he focused on the sensation, your voice causing him physical pain in his cock.

Your breathing quickened as you felt a knot slowly building up in your stomach, your movements getting lazy as your fingers played with your clit. You moaned louder this time, his name slipping out of your mouth. He groaned at the sight, your fingers buried under your skirt, your lips hanging open in pleasure, your tits bouncing above him. He gulped loudly, teeth gritting as he watched you come on his cock without even entering you.

You smiled sweetly as you came down your height, his eyes filled with lust as he tugged hard against the headboard. The ties seemed to be of good quality holding the boy’s muscles firmly in place.

You leaned down to kiss him, lifting your hips in the process. Oliver didn’t miss your little mistake. His cock twitched again as he entered you, making you scream his name in pleasure. You were supposed to be in control, but a simple mistake ended up being the biggest pleasure. You moaned as his hips sped up, his length buried in you fully. You wanted to lift yourself up from him, you wanted to tease him more.

But you couldn’t.

As if Oliver could read you, he snapped. The tie gave up against his strength, ripping the material apart, before he got hold of your hips, steadying you on him, his cock pounding into you harder, stronger. You were screaming his name, your fingers digging into his chest, your eyes closed as you felt the knot appear in your stomach, steadily growing as you felt Oliver’s pace quicken.

You couldn’t control yourself, your breathing was uneven, your body out of control, your walls tightening under Oliver’s movements. You were close, very close, Oliver feeling your climax building up as you squeezed around him, his name stuck in your lungs, throwing your head back, completely giving yourself to the pleasure, before you felt Oliver’s hot come fill you up. You fell onto his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Fuck.” Oliver spoke, chuckling in happiness. You giggled at his choice of word; he was not one to swear often.

“I’m guessing you liked it.” You beamed up at him.

“Wasn’t that obvious, love?” He asked, hinting a kiss on the top of your head. “Anything that involves you, I love.” He smiled lazily.

“You are such a sap.” You smiled as you looked up at him with a tired gaze. He leaned down to you, hinting a small kiss on the top of your head, both of you trying to organise your breathing, before you even dared to collect enough energy to clean yourselves up.

Taglist: @nebulablakemurphy​ @iliveiloveiwrite​ @kalimagik​ @inkhearthes​ @accio-rogers​ @mytreec​ @levylovegood​ @izzytheninja​ @prongsies​ @ravenclea​ @msmimimerton​  (I wasn’t sure who I could add from my taglist, so I only added those who I was sure of being over 18 whether because I know them or because it was stated on their profile.)

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[pappydaddy]

the tales of the infatuated (o.w.)

a/n: i am back and (hopefully) ready to write lovelies!

tv show/movie: harry potter

pairing: oliver wood x fem!shy!gyffindor!reader

requested

part one - there are parallels so read this one first please!

description: tales of oliver and y/n's relationship following the events of the woes of the highly overdramatic

warning: the reader is shy and beats herself up about it (slightly). please, as a shy person myself, never think being shy is bad or wrong in any way. being shy is 100% okay!

note: reader wears a lot of scarves and uses them to kind of hide when embarrassed.

taglist: @just-here-to-escape-reality | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @badass-yn | @onyourgoddamnleft | @rootbeerfaygo | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @spring-picnics | @lonely-simp | @slytherinambitiouss

a line through your user means i could not tag you for whatever reason! if you possibly changed your user, let me know and i will fix it on my taglist

masterlist | taglist | navigation

-not my gif -

  The air was filled with a sort of muddy smell. The kind of smell only found enjoyable since it meant spring was attacking the bitter cold, thawing the ground and bringing life back to the rather lifeless hills of Scotland. Oliver never really noticed the beauty within the changing of the seasons, all he noticed was that one day the scenery looked one way and the next it was different. Now, as he sat there, a warm cup of tea between his large, rough hands, listening to Y/N’s soft and naturally quiet voice talk about the changes in the season, he finally realized it was more than just disappearing snow or dying leaves. 

  “And look there, you see the small buds on that tree right outside the shop,” Y/N gasped quietly, her arm shooting out to point to the tree that was once sagging under the weight of the snow. “Look how small, but in a few weeks time, those will be beautifully coloured, large leaves full of life.” She hummed, hand nestling back on her own teacup. 

  Oliver looked from the window, towards her, eyes flicking over her face as she stared out the window in sheer amazement. Suddenly, the stubborn and slightly obsessed Gryffindor Quidditch Captain that normally oozes self-confidence and never does anything at leisure, found himself slowing down and enjoying it. Enjoying the seconds ticking by when he wasn’t working on plays. Enjoying the hours he has spent just looking at nature (and Y/N) and listening to her. Her voice was a little shaky and quiet, but it was the most beautiful sound to him. Even better than the sound of the crowd cheering whenever the Gryffindor team won another game. 

  Even in the moments of silence as she just existed, sipping her tea as she basked in his company. For someone who was so used to hanging around rambunctious and loud Quidditch players, he never thought silence and stillness could be so welcoming. Sure, being friends with Percy, he found himself surrounded by silence as Percy read in his presence, but Oliver would always do his own thing. It was never silent because his head was always busy and loud. Now, with Y/N, his brain was quiet. It was kind of comforting. 

  “Reckon we should make a quick trip to Honeydukes before it gets busy?” Oliver asked gently, not to startle her as he pulled her from her thoughts. A smile stretched onto her face, soft eyes sparking at him in the late afternoon spring sun. There was a sweet spot to visit the popular candy store. He had never thought of it before, he always just went to Honeydukes. It wasn’t until their relationship hit the four month mark that he noticed. 

  They had been out strolling around Hogsmeade. It was relatively quiet along the cobblestone streets as they walked in comfortable silence, Y/N’s eyes seeming to admire the world around them in awe - as if this was her first time in Hogsmeade. Oliver found his eyes glued to the corners, watching her, his heart thumping in a way that both calmed him and scared him. The noise of the rambunctious groups pooling in and out of Honeydukes made her stutter in her steps, her body stiffening as her eyes shifted to the large crowd. 

  His own eyes shifting from her, he observed the ruckus without panic, but it was obvious she was. As they slowly sauntered closer to the mass of people, her body seemed to become more stiff, her pace slowing. “Hey, how about we just sit on this bench here? I kinda want to just sit without for a little bit.” Oliver suggested, gesturing to a bench that sat not far from them. 

  She looked at it, open-mouthed, before looking back at Oliver. “But it’s covered in snow,” She blinked up at him. Oliver shrugged, walking over to it. She followed easily, their joined hands keeping them attached. “Are you sure, Oliver? I don’t want to make you sit out in the cold.” She pointed out. She knew he was just doing it because she was nervous around crowds and the possibility of a forced conversation..  

  “It’s early March, it’s starting to warm up,” He brushed her off. There was a nip in the air, but it was just enough to tinge the end of one's nose red. Part of him found this an added bonus because despite the scarf she kept nuzzling her face in, Y/N’s cheeks and nose would have that slight discoloration he loved so much. Sometimes he had to search for it, but it was there and he found it adorable. With his free hand, he brushed partially melted snow off the bench. “You can sit on my lap if you’re comfortable, I don’t want your pants to get wet.” He settled himself onto the bench, their hands still connected as she stood there apprehensively. 

  “You know, I am okay with going into Honeydukes, as long as you’re with me I can handle the crowd-” She was cut off by his hand leaving hers, his arms quickly wrapping around her waist to pull her down onto his lap. She squeaked out in shock, eyes widened. “Oliver! Warning would have been nice, you scared me!” She gasped despite the fact she seemed to melt into him. 

  “Sorry, Love,” He smiled, resting his chin on her shoulder. “But I wasn’t going to let you drag me into Honeydukes and sacrifice your comfort just because you think I am cold,” He pressed his lips to her cheek as she unburied her face from her scarf. “We’ll wait until it starts to calm down.” 

  “Well,” She hummed, trying to uncover her watch from under her coat and mittens. Oliver helped, rolling her oversized, knitted mitten down slightly, revealing the watch she always wore. “It usually calms down at forty after the hour, it’s the quietest part aside from just before close-”

  “Which isn’t an option because you don’t want the workers to think you’re ignorant coming into a shop five minutes before closing,” He finished for her. She looked into his eyes, the smile that was covered by her scarf evident through the gleam in her eyes. “We’ll wait five minutes then go in. Then, we can go to the Three Broomsticks because at that time, usually the Twins will be pulling off some sort of stunt outside of Zokos.” 

____

  Y/N never thought of the Quidditch Pitch as a sanctuary for her to escape to. It was usually always loud in some way - or she thought it was. Boy, was she wrong. Before she met Oliver, she much preferred to avoid attention and noise. it was out of her comfort zone to be in fast paced social environments - such as Quidditch games. Oftentimes, she was usually found lounging in quiet areas of Hogwarts, but obviously, since dating Oliver, she frequented the Pitch more often. Either while he was practicing (team or alone) or while he was playing. More recently, she could be spotted under Oliver’s arm while he sat in the crowd watching the other team’s games. 

  Now, even when they didn’t make appearances at other games, their usual spot was always open. It was now known as Oliver and Y/N’s spots. Oliver had scouted them out once. Situated right at the top of the bleachers, Oliver had found a sweet spot where Y/N wouldn’t feel overwhelmed by over-eager people screaming. Sitting right next to the stairs, she could quickly escape if needed. When they were practicing, she sat in the front, her book carefully balanced on the edge of the railing. 

  Right now, she sat in her normal spot, the fall breeze whispering around her. Her large eyes were locked on Oliver as his brown eyes quickly moved around the pitch, watching everything with his incredible perceptive eyes. He always amazed her with his attention to detail - most likely from being such a good keeper. He noticed everything. He could sometimes spot the snitch before any of the Seekers. 

  “Hey, Y/N,” She blinked as she was startled by someone talking to her. Eyes searching the crowd in front of her, she spotted Seamus, his face painted in Gryffindor colours, a lion’s mane around his face. “Did Oliver tell you anything about his strategy in this game? Those nasty snakes are neck and neck with us! What is going through his head?” Seamus’ Irish accent got thicker and thicker as he got riled up. 

  She squeaked, face heating up as she felt a few people looking at her - also questioning the same thing. One thing about dating the captain, people had lots of questions and were upset when they were losing or had the possibility of falling behind in the game. “I-I’m not-” She swallowed thickly, pulling the scarf she wore up around her face, trying to hide within it. “Um, I don’t really, uh-” She licked her lips, a little bit of fuzz from the scarf falling catching on her lips and tongue. “No, he didn’t.” She answered, making everybody look away from her. 

  Sinking into her seat, her back against the wall, she let out a breath. Her eyes fluttered closed as she cursed herself. ‘I couldn’t even answer a simple question! Stupid. Godric!’ She beat herself up before she let her eyes open at the sound of a shrill whistle. Instantly, her eyes met Oliver’s brown eyes. They were consumed by concern and a little bit of anger, but she knew it was directed to the people who made her uncomfortable. 

  “Gryffindor wins with Harry Potter catching the snitch! Starting off the season strong!” Lee’s voice boomed through the sound system, causing the stands to erupt in cheers (aside from the Slytherins who sneered at everyone as per usual). She could feel Oliver’s eyes on her as she stood, pulling the scarf down to show him her beaming smile. Sending him a thumbs up, she turned and made her way down the stairs. 

  She knew he would be waiting impatiently on the pitch right next to the tunnel he knew she would emerge from. “You won!” She exclaimed. Even in celebration, her voice was soft and quiet, but her face glowed in a way that far outweighed any form of vocalization. Without a second thought, she launched herself into his arms, legs and arms wrapping around him as his wrapped around her waist. Flush against each other, their faces buried within each other’s necks, they simply stayed like that. Oliver rocked them slightly, hands gripping each other’s clothes. They held each other in the most innocently desperate way, celebrating by feeling each other’s energies. 

  “Are you okay? They shouldn’t have been questioning you like that,” Oliver whispered into her hair, his breath tickling her neck slightly. She squealed, barely pulling away at the feeling. She could feel a slight smile stretching onto Oliver’s face at the reaction, but he turned serious a second later. “Reckon I need to make it clear that they can’t do that again.” 

  “It’s fine, Oliver-” She pulled away from him, hands coming up to cup his face. They couldn’t hear the wolf-whistles from the Weasley Twins (well, Y/N didn’t but Oliver did and instantly knew they were going to be in for a rough next practice). She took a look at his serious face, knowing she wasn’t going to convince him not to teach them a lesson. “Fine, but intimidating stares and empty threats only.” She told him sincerely. 

  “Fine by me.” He agreed, leaning in to press his lips to hers. She blushed furiously, all too aware of people looking at them, but she leaned into the kiss anyway - too desperate for a kiss to care (care enough to stop kissing him, but she knew she would be thinking about people watching once his lips left hers). 

____

  “It is blistering cold out Oliver, my fingers are about to fall off, where are we going?” Y/N questioned, her voice muffled by her scarf. He looked down at her, seeing her eyes securely behind the blindfold, both her hands gripping his arm the best they could with her oversized mittens. 

  “You will see in a minute.” He simply told her, making her huff. 

  “I don’t like surprises, Oliver.” She pouted, wiggling her face free from her scarf in order to show him the pout on her red tinged lips. She had a barely noticeable shade of lipstick on, wearing it specifically since it is her one-year anniversary with Oliver today. They were dressed nicely. Both had a pair of jeans and a warm sweater under their layers of winter wear. 

  “I know, Love, but you will like this one, I promise,” He reassured her, pressing a kiss to her hat-covered temple sweetly. She hummed, resting her head against Oliver’s bicep as he led her towards their destination, following in blindly. Looking down at her more as they slowly walked, he couldn’t help but let warmth bloom in his chest. Something about her snuggling into him as he led her to someplace, allowing him to lead her blindly. The amount of trust this showed she had in him warmed him against the bitter cold they walked in. “Okay, Love, we’re here.” 

  He could barely contain his smile as he gently pried her hands off him, walking behind her to untie the blindfold. “You took me to Greenhouse?” She questioned, eyes scanning the Greenhouse that stood in front of them.

  “Not any Greenhouse,” He exclaimed, carefully shuffling past her as they stood on a patch of ice. He pulled the small bit of cloth that covered the number on the door. Revealing the number one. “Greenhouse One! The Greenhouse I confessed my feelings to you in a year ago to this date. Even down to the hour!” He beamed as he opened the door for her. A blast of heat greeted them as he guided her into the room, a hand on her lower back to make sure she didn’t slip on the ice. 

  Her mouth fell open, looking around in amazement. The plants and tables that usually cluttered the center of the Greenhouse were pushed to the side, leaving space for a blanket and pillows to be laid out on the floor. Floating candles provided a flickering and a glowing amber light - the only light that illuminated the area aside from the winter sun that broke through the dirty windows on the Greenhouse in mini spotlights, dust swirling and dancing in them. 

  Turning around, Oliver closed the door, sealing the heat in the Greenhouse - the heating spell working brilliantly. When he turned around, he found his breath leaving him at the sight before him. She slowly walked further into the Greenhouse, eyes dancing around in amazement as she peeled her winter clothes off, starting with her hat and scarf. The golden rays hit her, illuminating her as if she were a work of art - just like they did a year ago at this time. As she pulled her mittens off, she reached out, touching the plant with the softest, most caring touch. Humming, she let the leaf of the plant go before dropping everything including her coat to the ground. 

  “This is beautiful, Oliver. I love it,” She whispered, looking back at him, eyes meeting his eyes in a zing like jolt, bringing him from his daze. He wanted to say the cliche line of ‘breathtakingly beautiful’ as he looked at her, but he was too taken by her standing there. All he could really do was stride towards her. ““Um, Oliver,” She whispered in a shaky voice as he didn’t say anything back to her, but his eyes were set with intent. “A-are you going to say something-” 

  She was cut off by his lips falling upon hers, his hands resting on her waist. They stumbled slightly from the force of his lips, but his hands gripped onto her waist, steadying them as her hands reached up to cup his cheeks, her lips moving with his in a sweet kiss. All their kisses were sweet. Innocent but rough (that thanks to Oliver’s need to show her how much he loved her). They stood there, lips locked in among the variety of beautifully growing plants, the smell of fresh soil and the fragrant tropical plants in the back corner of the Greenhouse - absorbed each other’s energies like the leaves of a plant absorbing sunlight; warm and energising. 

  “I love you.” He spoke against her lips before connecting their lips together. He was shocked when her hands were pushing his face away from hers, unable to pull herself away from the kiss due to him holding her flush against him, her back arching slightly.

  “I love you too, Oliver. So much.” She confessed to him, her wide eyes staring into his eyes, sparks exploding in her stomach as their eyes whispered heartwarming love between each other. And just like that, they both knew that the tales they would be telling until their last breaths would be tales of the infatuated, but Percy probably already knew that when he told Oliver everything that day.