#Oliver Wood One Shot

[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.

#oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood imagines #oliver wood x fem!reader #oliver wood x shy!reader #x shy!reader #shy!reader #harry potter #oliver wood preferences #oliver wood one shot #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood fic #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood x you #pappydaddy writes #oliver wood request #oliver wood fluff #oliver wood fics #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood oneshot

[harrypotter-imaginees]

Oliver finding you asleep on his bed

You wanted to spend time with Oliver, so you walked into his dorm. But he wasn’t there. You had forgotten that he wanted to spend time with his friends today, so you just laid in his bed. You grab a book that laid on the ground. The title of the book was „Quidditch through the ages“ you opened it and saw many little notes that Oliver had written. You thought that this was cute and started reading. At some point, you got really tired, so you got under the blankets and fell asleep. A few hours later walked Oliver in his room and saw you laying in his bed. He thought that you were adorable. He grabbed the book that laid beside you and smiled. Then he laid down beside you and pulled you onto of him. You immediately snuggled into him. He chuckled and gave you a kiss on the forehead after that he fell asleep.

Tagging: @bellatheslytherclaw @heyitsreece44 @mela1648 @kbakery @sanaz1dlol @savagejane1 @onceuponaoneshot @feuillemory @silverose365 @whoslunaaa @deafhufflepuff4300

#hp imagine #hp #harry potter imagine #harry potter #oliver wood smut #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood fluff #oliver wood headcanon #oliver wood x you #oliver wood one shot #oliver wood x reader #Oliver Wood #cute #cute things wood does #cute things Oliver does

[semisutopia]

pleasant poetry ➠ o. wood

pair: oliver wood x hufflepuff rival fem! reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: one mention of death, slight name calling, romantic tension, and kissing!!!

genre: fluff!

“oi Wood!”

you yelled from the bottom of the quidditch pitch, seeing the scotsman flying on his broom. he descended a bit too hard as he got off his broom, staggering a bit.

“what do you want L/n?”

Oliver replied, clearly annoyed that you ruined the Gryffindor’s practice time.

“it’s our time to practice now. Professor Sprout wrote a note”

you said as you handed him the scroll written by the head of Hufflepuff house. Wood mumbled as he read the parchment which read ‘I, Professor Pamona Sprout give the Hufflepuff quidditch team to practice at 8:00 on the 21st of November’.

you smirked and snatched the parchment away from his hands as he finished reading, snarling at you.

“alright, get your team off the pitch”

*timeskip to Monday*

“i will be splitting you into pairs for this project as this potion is extremely difficult to make”, Snape’s monotonous voice called out. you barely heard him call out the partners, hearing a ‘Johnson and Weasley’ and ‘Diggory and Farrah’ until you heard your name.

“lastly, L/n and Wood. everybody get to work. i want the complete potion down by the end of friday’s class meaning you will get 4 days to work on this. now get to work and i want to hear no bickering.”

you groaned and walked over to Oliver’s bench and sat next to him.

“what do you want?” he asked glaring at you.

“you’re an idiot. didn’t you hear the task?”

“clearly not. answer my question; why are you here?”

you rolled your eyes at his incompetence.

“i’m your partner for this project. we have to make a brew of ‘Pleasant Poetry’. we have until friday.

“pleasant poetry? what kinda potion is that?”

you read through the book and said out loud to him what you read, “Pleasant Poetry: allows the person who ingests it to speak with the most enchanting words in a siren-like voice.”

you looked up from the book and saw him looking at you already. you observed as his gaze travelled from your hair, to your hands on the page, to your lips, and finally your eyes. his own eyes widened when he saw you looking back at him and his cheeks formed a red tint.

“um right okay…” you said to break the tension.

he cleared his throat. “yeah aright pleasant poetry. let’s do it. i wanna get it over with as soon as possible”

“why? so you can stop working with me?”

“—yeah of course. why’d i want to work with the enemy?” he retaliated.

“i’m not your enemy, Wood. our next match is not for a while. until then, we have to work together to make this potion. it’s really hard.”

“yeah fine aright.”

*timeskip to Wednesday evening*

you and Oliver had finished getting most of the ingredients for the potion.

“okay, last thing we need is rain taken from the forbidden forest… how are we supposed to get that?!”

“let’s just wait in the forest until it rains? don’t you have a spell to make it rain or something? yer the smart one”, he said walking into the forest with you following closely behind him.

“no, i have no such spell. we just have to wait until it rains. and we have to go back before the sun sets. it’s forbidden for a reason”

“aw does little Y/n not wanna break school rules?”

“no, little Y/n wants to not get killed by centaurs who hate humans.” you said walking in front of him now.

he murmured a soft ‘i knew that’ and jogged to catch up with you.

you both placed your bags by the root of one tree and sat down waiting for the clouds to become dark.

it was peaceful. for once. Hogwarts is an extremely big school and rarely do you ever hear silence apart from when you’re sleeping at night. so, simply being in nature and hearing the chirping of the birds and the slight clopping of the thestrals was relaxing and calming in a way. not to mention the comfortable silence between you and Oliver.

Oliver Wood and you were never really friends despite doing everything together. you found each other more as rivals than peers or friends. but never have you realised what he made you feel. with him, you felt safe…you didn’t feel like you needed to try to be anything.

Oliver rested his head back on the tree bark and closed his eyes. you looked at him and for some reason, you couldn’t look away. his side profile was stunning. the way his chest heaved up and down as he breathed, the way his adam’s apple was sticking out of his neck so sharply, the way his face looked in the rays of sunlight shooting through the leaves. it all looked so—

“like what you see, l/n?”

his voice brought you out of your thoughts. you wanted to retaliate, or say something but no words came out. you just started into his beautiful hazel eyes, as if they were pulling you in them.

“you know…” Oliver started again, “yer not that bad to look at yerself” he said and tucked a piece of hair behind your ears. his hand didn’t leave you face however, it stayed on your right cheek and his thumb traced down to your lips.

your heart was beating so hard. why? this has never happened before. granted, this situation has never happened before…but you didn’t want it to stop. there was a fluttering feeling in your stomach that filled you with joy.

“oh yeah?” you mustered up the courage to say. Wood smirked and moved his hand down to the side of your neck and leaned in closer.

“yeah” he whispered in a husky voice. you both knew where this was going and wanted it to happen. just when your lips were about to touch, you felt something drip on you.

it was going to rain now and you could finally finish the potion. Oliver sighed and got up. you internally cursed the rain for ruining the moment but quickly stood up too.

“give me the mason jar” you instructed him and he did as told, handing you the jar.

it started to rain and you collected the rain water before tucking the jar in your bag again. as you were about to say something, Oliver took your hand and spun you around.

“dance with me” he said, holding your hand in one of his. you chuckled. “we have no music” “then we’ll just have to make our own”

he hummed a low melody as your swayed together, drenched by the rain water but you didn’t care. you were just happy.

Wood spun you around once more and put his hands on your waist, halting your movement and pulled you close to him.

“Y/n” he started and moved one hand to your chin to raise it up. “may i?” he asked as his eyes glistened with hope and anticipation.

you nodded quickly and your lips touched each other’s. his lips were soft and wet because of the rain. they were gentle as they kissed you and you didn’t want it to stop. your hands made their way up to his hair and tugged on it slightly as he released a hum against your lips.

pulling away, he rested your foreheads together and mumbled, “i think i’d like to be your partner for the next project too eh?”

#harry potter #fanfiction #hp headcanon #hp fic #oliver wood #oliver wood x y/n #x y/n #x reader #incorrect hp quotes #oliver wood fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fluff #hp fluff #oliver wood fluff #oliver fluff #oliver wood x reader #harry potter headcanons #oliver wood headcanons #oliver wood one shot #oneshot #rivals to lovers #enemies to lovers #quidditch #rivals to lovers fluff

[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.”

#harry potter fanfiction #oliver wood #harry potter x reader #slytherin #malfoy manor #draco malfoy #malfoy family #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #gryffindor #hp fandom #quidditch #mariah carey #all i want for christmas is you #one shot #fluff

[sweetpandorabox]

Hoodie - Oliver Wood x Female reader (One Shot)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨sweetpandorabox୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…⋙

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend Oliver, has been together for a little over 6 month now, due to your age difference him being the 6th year and you being the 4th year you both decided to take it slow and kept your relationship quiet not letting anyone except your closest friends know about the situation until today's Quidditch match where it all changed.

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Female Reader

Story Setting: This fanfiction is set in your 4th year of Hogwarts during the Chamber of Secrets (you're in the same year group as Fred and George's instead of Harry's)

Warnings⚠️ : None this one is pure fluff.

A/N : Hey sexy it's Angel here, this week I've decided to write some more super short one-shots for all of you, I'll be sure to make one for at least all of the Harry Potter boys and girls because it's super easy, and, and don't require a lot of time, anyway enjoy love you. xx

Word Count : 845

✯¸.•´¨*•✿ Hoodie ✿•*¨`•.¸✯

You watched as the Hufflepuff Casher threw the Quaffle into the Gryffindor's goal with anticipation, as Oliver Wood yet again block the leather ball out the way just in time for Harry Potter to catch the golden and swift little snitch. "Harry Potter has caught the snitch, and Gryffindor has won the match", Lee Jordan announced causing an uproar of excitement from the red and golden colored crowd along with yourself, you smiled excitedly at the well-built and burly Gryffindor keeper flying on his broom, as he indicates all his attention to you smirking playfully following in with a wink, turning your cheeks tomato red before exiting the tall and high Quidditch stands.

You waited outside of the Quidditch changing rooms, keeping yourself hidden behind a bush peeking at the door and counting in all the players that have left back to the Hogwarts castle, rejoicing to celebrate their win with a big lunch at the great hall. After a thorough count of people, you reveal yourself quietly entering the changing rooms and closing the door behind you. You make your way to the boy's side to find Oliver's muscular torso facing you, changing out of his sweaty gear with his pant's waistband settling in low exposing his abdominal v line inflaming your body into a highly abnormal body temperature like it was set on fire and keeping your face bright red like a sun-dried tomato. You swore your heart could jump out within minutes of this view until Oliver finally looked over and noticed your small figure.

He smirks, "You know you should just take a picture, maybe then it'll last longer" he teased you flirtatiously, striding over to you before he kissed your forehead wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his body. "Hey I can look at you when I like, plus what girl on earth doesn't want to look at their much older, athletic, and handsome boyfriend huh? you tell me?" you responded gazing into his pair of milk chocolate eyes, he stares back at your ethereal pair of eyes responding with a smile, pulling you into a sweet kiss and sweeping you off your feet before asking "why aren't you wearing something warmer? it's bloody windy outside" he mentioned rubbing both sides of your arm keeping the goosebumps away, "Oh well I wasn't feeling very cold and I thought it was warm enough not to bring a coat or something a bit warmer...I'll be okay though" you chuckled softly ensuring your protective boyfriend.

He shakes his head with a smile, walking over to his stuff and quickly putting on a long sleeve and black turtle neck top, before rummaging through his duffle bag and taking out his red and gold Gryffindor Quidditch hoodie with a large 'Wood' embroidered on the back of it signifying that it was his and his only, he swings his bag on to his shoulder as he hands you the hoodie, "Here put it on then I don't want you to catch a nasty cold, its better safe than sorry" he command. "Uhm Ollie what about you, won't you get cold?" you ask innocently giving him a doe-eyed look, "No love, don't worry about me I'll be alright, here let me help you" he lifts both of your arms up putting the hoodie on to you, the hoodie fits very loosely amplifying your already small figure and built way more then before.

He chuckled at your sight taking your hand in his as you both walked out of the changing rooms making your way to the Hogwarts castle aiming straight for the great hall for lunch, you and Oliver talked your way into walking with laughter but listening to each other at the same time before stopping abruptly in the halls "Ollie I'm wearing your hoodie I need to take it off before we go in" you stated lifting the hoodie up to take it off before Oliver pulls the hoodie back down looking into your eyes, "Y/N I uh I think I'm ready to show you off to everyone as my girlfriend rather then a younger friend I mentor through school" he stated in his sweet Scottish accent melting your heart into a warm puddle, "Ollie I had no idea that you were ready...I've been ready to show everyone what we are as well" you smile looking down on the floor not meeting his eyes with a red tint smearing on your cheeks.

He masters up the biggest smile he can before lifting you off your feet and kissing you, you kiss him back being the happiest you've ever been before walking hand in hand with him through the great halls turning heads left and right as people comment on the hoodie you're wearing, your age differences and how you're holding each other's hands before kissing once more as everyone around the red and gold table cheered at your relationship and Oliver's goal save which leads Gryffindor into another win engraving one more Oliver related happy memory into your brain.

#oliver wood #oliver wood x you #one shot #fluff #romantic #female reader #hogwarts #wizarding world #hp fanfcition #hp fanfic #hp fandom #harry potter imagine #harry potter series #quidditch #imagine #gryffindor #harry potter

[lace--space]

Words unspoken leave hearts broken

Percy Weasley x Y/N

Summary: Percy seems to only have time for work, so you search for love in other people. This however never satisfies you. In the end you search out Percy hoping the two of you could still be.

words: 2K

Soft music playing, candles flickering shadows in the room, two half eaten desserts left on the coffee table. A bundle of arms and legs on the couch. You and Percy layed intertwined together, you slightly more on top of him, where you kissed him softly. He traced your skin with his fingertips, giving you goosebumps. You’d been kissing the whole night, just lazy kisses interrupted by deep conversations. 

“I never knew you could get so laid back, Weasley.” You said softly, smiling up at him. “I mean, I’m not complaining, just saying.” “You relax me.” He starts, “You make me feel at home and when I'm at home I relax.” Your heart filled with love. “Is that also true for the Burrow?” You asked not knowing the conversation would turn deep. “I might seem like I don’t like my family and like I don’t want anything to do with them, but I do truly love every single one of them. And I would protect them with my life.” Feeling that you didn’t need to reply to this, you just kissed him again. Saying you understood with your lips. 

The two of you had dated a couple times during Hogwarts, but had decided to really end it once you graduated from Hogwarts. Now, you occasionally met up and some of those days and nights ended up with the two of you making out. It had all started off when you were working on a story for the daily Prophet and followed him around the ministry for a couple of days. He’d taken a lot of time, that he really didn’t have, to help you with your article. And that’s how you ended up on either his or your couch, spending a whole lot of time together. That was, until recently. 

Percy took a hold of your face and pulled you into a passionate kiss. You were a bit dazed after he released you and it took you a moment to realize that Percy was moving off the couch. “Hey, where are you going?” You asked, arms outstretched, also getting up now. “I have to get up early tomorrow.” “You’re leaving?” You asked surprised. “Yeah, sorry. I-” He fumbled for words. “I’ll get in contact with you.” He finally said. “You’ll get in contact with me? What am I? A client of yours?” Your temper rising. “I’m just going home, so I can get up early tomorrow morning. Don’t make this a thing.” 

Don’t make this a thing. Pfft. You swallowed hard and turned your back on Percy. “Just go!” “I’ll see you in a couple days, promise.” You shook your head. “Whatever.” He could have stayed the night, like he’d done so many times before, but now you think about it, he hadn’t done that in a really long time. “You know what? Just don’t come over at all.” Percy stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you. “Yeah, you heard me. Bye-bye.” Maybe it was childish, but you were done with his attitude. You know you felt this way because you are deeply in love with him and you seemed to never be able to say that out loud. And with Percy coming and going when he wanted to, it hurt. You wanted him all the time.

When the evening finally came around you stared at the fireplace. A futile attempt to make Percy appear through the floo powder network. You had done it. You really screwed up this time. But you were also stubborn and didn’t want to give in. If Percy couldn’t be with you, you wouldn’t worry about who you were seeing either. You walked towards your closet and picked out a pretty dark blue dress and put it on. The one Percy loved so much on you. You were going out and you were going to enjoy this night out. 

***

Walking into the bar, you scooped out the scene. There was a couple sitting at the bar completely engulfed into each other. And a group around your age sitting in a booth drinking shots like there is no tomorrow. There were a few more groups and couples splattered around the bar. You chose a table somewhere at the front. Poem reading was going to happen this evening and you decided to try it out for once. 

You thought all the readings were done and you were about to get up. “Ahem.” Someone scratched their voice. “Hi, I’m Dean.” You turned back around and were stunned to see it was Dean Thomas. You quickly sat back down and ordered another drink, ready to enjoy this. 

Surprisingly, Dean was really good at poetry. You had enjoyed the other’s as well, but Dean’s was by far the best. “Hey Dean.” You exclaimed. He turned around, a surprised look on his face. “Well, if it isn’t Y/N.” He walked over to you and hugged you. “Do you have time for a sit down?” You asked hopefully. “Ofcourse. I want to know what you’ve been up to. I read your articles.” He says matter of factly. You blushed, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, well, what have you been doing?” “Me? I work as a curse-breaker. I sometimes work with Bill Weasley. But he’s Percy’s brother so you probably already know.” You huffed. “Percy and I aren’t together anymore. So no, I didn’t know about your job. Are you enjoying it?” “Like anybody who has a job, I guess. It pays the bills.” “Right.” 

“So, no more you and Percy?” He asked bewildered. You sighed, “No more me and Percy.” “What happened, I was sure you two would last.” “So did I, but he doesn’t seem to give me the time of day, so no.” “So you wouldn’t mind if I,” He starts, hands moving to hold your waist, “Do this?” He pulls you closer, lips mere inches apart. You close the distance, pulling him closer with your hands in his hair. His lips were chapped, but you didn’t seem to mind. Your focus was completely on Dean and his lips on yours. Until you didn’t. Percy crept into your mind and all of a sudden you felt disgusting, like you were cheating on him. You weren’t, the two of you weren’t dating, but still, it didn’t feel right. 

You backed away from his lips. “I’m sorry.” You started. “I can’t.” “Are you still together with Percy?” He asked, confused. “What?” You now looked just as confused. “Oh no, we aren’t together, but it does feel weird.” “Hey, no worries. I’m not going to push you to do something you don’t want to do.” You hugged him. “Thank you, Dean.” “But, I do think you need to talk to him.” “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.” “At Least think about it.” He said kindly. You nodded at him, then got up to make your way home. 

***

“Oliver!” You sputtered. You hadn’t seen him come into the club. “It’s been so long.” “It has, hasn’t it.” “Here, come take a seat.” You scooted to the side, making room for him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask, are you here with someone?” “No,” He started as he sat down next to you. “I just came to have a good time and then I saw you.” “I can be a good time.” You covered your mouth after you heard what you said. “I didn’t mea- I didn’t-” Oliver laughed loudly. “Calm down, I understand.” You were mortified by what you had said, but clearly Oliver understood. 

Half an hour later you had climbed on top of his lap and was now fully making out with him. His hands ran up and down your back as he hugged you close. His lips were rough against yours and his stumble scratched at your cheeks. You ended the kiss, his lips chasing yours, so you put a finger against his lips and pushed him back, getting off his lap in the meantime. 

As good as it felt to kiss him, he couldn’t kiss you like you wanted to. He wasn’t Percy. “I’m sorry.” You said softly. “This just doesn’t feel right.” “It will alway be Percy, right?” He says matter of factly. “If he can stop being such a workaholic.” You sigh desperately. 

“You gotta see it from his perspective too. He wants to make the world a better place. Especially after the whole Voldemort thing. And that takes time. And I’m sure he wants to be with you, but he wants to be there all the time, not when he has a little space in his schedule. Give him a chance.” He softly finishes. “But what if he never has time for me? Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t wait forever.” You sighed. “He’ll come around.” Oliver gave you a hug. “Just you wait. You’ll see.” 

And so your thoughts drift off towards Percy once again, maybe you should go talk to him.

***

You didn’t go out again after your last encounter with Oliver. You felt bad. What a mess. You made out with Percy’s previous best friend and you couldn’t see how you could make this right again. Percy was probably going to feel really hurt when he finds out. 

You decided to just rip off the bandaid and go over to Percy’s house after work. You were crazy nervous. What was he going to say? What were you going to say? But here you were, standing in front of Percy’s front door. You hadn’t dared to go by floo powder network. You hesitantly knocked on the door.

“Y/n?” Percy asked. “Yeah, hi.” You said softly. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” “Sure, come in. Haven’t seen you in a while.” “Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” You informed. 

He walked you to the kitchen where he grabbed you a beer and motioned for you to sit at the table. “So, what did you wanna talk about?” You hesitated for a second. “Percy,  I’m sorry.” He furrowed his brow. “Why?” “I know we aren’t together, but I did go out and meet other people.” You swallowed thickly. “And I kissed some of them.” Percy straightened his back. “I mean, like you said, we aren’t together. So I can’t get mad at you about that. But just out of curiosity, who did you kiss?”  “Dean Thomas and,” You stopped for a second, was it a good idea to say that you kissed his best friend? Well here goes nothing. “Oliver.” Percy’s brows rose up to his hairline. “You kissed my best friend.” “Or, your best friend kissed me. It just depend on how you look at it.” Percy snorted. “I’m going to need to have a tough conversation with Oliver, that’s how I see it.” 

“You also need to know,” You started, “That I only thought of you when I was kissing them.” You looked down at your fingers. “I only want you, Perce. No one else makes me feel the way you do.” “I’m sorry I wasn’t around much when we were kind of together. I didn’t think about how you’d feel about me being gone all the time. I was so focussed on work. I promise you that I’ll do better. I’ll be around more. If you still want me?” “Do you still want me, after what I did?” “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. You have no idea.” 

He stood up from his seat and pulled on your hand to make you stand up too. He placed his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. His lips met yours. His lips warm and soft, nothing like Dean’s or Oliver’s. He walked you towards the couch and pressed you into it, Both of you now breathing heavily as your body’s collided together. “I swear, I’m going to treat you right from now on.” A shiver ran down your spine. “This means we’re actually together this time?” He kissed you once more. “Definitely.”

#percy weasley #dean thomas #oliver wood #y/n #drabble #one shot #imagine #preference #mywriting #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley

[honeyteanocoffee]

Me: says I won’t write angst because I can’t handle the emotions

Also me: writes 2k+ words about Oliver Wood finding out that he’s not quidditch captain

#one shots #headcannon #oliver wood headcanon #oliver wood imagine #Oliver wood #Harry potter #hp #writing #angst #sad stories #I’m not even done and it’s already 2k words

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

INDEBTED

Summary: When your father's scandal threatens your family's legacy, Rafe makes you an offer you can't refuse.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x KookFem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Choking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.  

Word Count: 4.8k words

Author's Note: 1000 followers! Wow, I never thought I'd reach 1000 followers. A part of me believes that half of these are bots, but regardless, to those who are real and have decided to join me in my little corner of the Tumblr woods, thank you. Your love and support, especially during these trying times, means a lot. I had this one shot sitting in my drafts for a while and thought I'd finish the damn thing and share it as a thank you. But heed those warnings : it's a dark one. Much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Embezzlement.

What a weird word.

It rolls off the tongue with an unfamiliar bitterness. It's the kind of term you'd see in a crossword puzzle, nestled between "clandestine" and "malevolent." You never imagined it would be splashed across news headlines with your family's name and the face of your father in the centre.

For years, your family was among the shining stars of Figure 8, leaders in hospitality, prestige, and wealth. Your home was the epicenter of elegance, the heartbeat of social galas. But now, news vans line the perimeter of your estate, their cameras hungry for a glimpse of the fallen dynasty. While online vultures, under the guise of investigative websites, sift through every chapter of your family's history.

Naturally, it caused a ripple, and as the waves of the scandal crashed onto the shores of Figure 8 with relentless force, family friends who once sought your company now wrestled with their association to yours. The 'friends' who once envied your galas and soirées now whisper behind closed doors.

It was the talk of every gathering. At lunches, tennis courts, even the marina; your family’s name was whispered with a mix of pity and sensationalism. Every disclosed detail, every leaked piece of evidence, threatens to shatter the glass pedestal upon which your family once stood unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the tempest of rumors and glares, your mother remains the eye of the storm. Resolute and graceful, she doesn't waver. The titan of Figure 8's social scene, she's always known how to command a room, and this scandal won't rob her of that gift.

Tonight, at the Midsummer ball, she's an emblem of defiance against the rising tide of whispers. And she does it so effortlessly. She glides through the crowd with that same charismatic charm. She smiles warmly, asking about children and recent vacations, pets, and passion projects, extending olive branches even when met with frosty receptions and curt replies.

You, however, are not as composed. The weight of judgmental gazes is too suffocating, the murmurs too piercing. The confines of the ball, with its glittering chandeliers and faux smiles, become a prison. With each passing moment, the walls seem to close in further. You need air. A moment of solitude. An escape from the suffocating pretense.

Whispering a quick excuse to your mother about needing the powder room, you slip away. The soft hum of the party fades behind you as you venture down a paved stone path, leading to the beach. The cool breeze and rhythmic waves provide solace, a stark contrast to the stifling ambiance of the party.

You had taken off the flower crown your mother had insisted you wear and were about to remove your shoes when you heard it: the soft crunch of footsteps on sand, drawing closer.

Hesitantly, you turned, finding him. The one whose eyes often sought yours in a crowd. Whose lingering gazes you'd always felt but habitually ignored. The same person who continually asked you out, oftentimes rudely and crudely. The one you had rejected, rebuffed, and shut down more times than you could count.

Rafe Cameron.

"Came to rub salt in my wounds?" you asked, unable to mask the bitterness in your voice.

"Now why would I want to do such a thing?" Rafe murmured. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his lips. The soft flicker of the lighter momentarily illuminated his face, revealing a brief smirk before the darkness cloaked him again. "I thought you might appreciate some company instead."

The word 'appreciate' ricocheted around your mind, sounding almost absurd in this situation. Company? From Rafe Cameron? The notorious Kook King of Figure 8, a classic case book narcissist who, you were certain, had probably raised a toast to the scandal engulfing your family. At this moment, you'd rather eat glass than accept his sympathy. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the sea, barely acknowledging his presence.

“I'm not in the mood to talk, Rafe," your voice steady but seething with restrained frustration. Your eyes remained locked onto the undulating waves before you. The smell of sea-salt filled your nostrils, and for a fleeting moment, you felt at peace. It lasts all of two seconds before Rafe opens his mouth again.

"Fine, I'll talk. You listen," he asserts, as he settles against a rock. He leisurely inhales from his cigarette before blowing out a plume of smoke into the night air. You can feel his contemplative gaze on you; it becomes evident in the softened timbre of his voice when he speaks again. “You know, it's downright shitty what they're doing to your dad. To your family. To you... I can't stand by and watch."

A scornful laugh escapes you as you finally meet his gaze. "Well, life's not exactly handing out fairness certificates, is it?"

He shook his head, "No, it isn’t. But, it still doesn't make it right. It doesn’t make it fair when your dad claims he’s innocent—”

“My dad is innocent,” you assert fiercely, standing tall, arms crossed defiantly over your chest.

“Oh, I believe he is. But the world? Not so much. Your dad’s always been good to my family. My old man took it hard when he heard. I mean, of all the people on Figure 8 to be arrested for embezzlement, your dad was the last person anyone would suspect—”

“What's your point, Rafe?” You snapped, clearly about to lose the last shred of patience you had.

"I’ve been thinking about it alot, and maybe my family can help.”

Skepticism etched itself clear as day on your face. It seemed ironic that Rafe felt his family could help when Rose and Ward shunned your parents the moment the news broke.

“And how do you propose to do that?" you asked, your voice tinged with mistrust.

Rafe shrugged, a casual gesture that contradicted the gravity of the situation. "My dad, he's got connections—”

“So do mine,” you shot back.

“But did yours play golf with Senator Whitfield every Saturday? Rain or shine? Nah, didn’t think so.”

You felt a moment of silence envelop you both, the distant murmurs of the sea a constant reminder of the world moving around you.

"Alright, I'll bite," you said with a lick of your lips. "What do you want in return? You're clearly not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

Rafe flicked his cigarette onto the sand, extinguishing it with a deliberate twist of his shoe. As he stepped closer, moonlight illuminated his eyes, giving them an almost predatory glow.

“You've got me," he admitted, his smirk devoid of warmth. “I do want something in return. Something that has been on my mind. Something I’ve wanted for a long time now. You."

A shiver raced down your spine, a cocktail of revulsion and trepidation. Retreating a step, your voice quivered but remained defiant.

"So, you're after a date?" You clarified, eyes narrowing. The same date he'd pestered you for, relentlessly, over the past year. The same date you'd denied him repeatedly, because despite being handsome, Rafe Cameron's moral compass seemed nonexistent.

Rafe scratched his ear as he moved slowly toward you, his expression pained as though what he was about to reveal would hurt him far more than it would hurt you.

"Yeah, see, a date won't begin to cover what I'm risking for your old man, given his rap sheet is longer than my arm. No, what I want is far more... rewarding," his voice sank to a sultry whisper as he towered over you.

"And what would that be?" you asked, tension crackling in the air between you.

"I want to be able to fuck you whenever and however I want—for a month, maybe two, perhaps even a year..." he shrugged slowly, "The specifics are negotiable, but doesn't that sound fair? A little pussy in exchange for your dad's freedom?”

The slap was instinctual. Swift. The sting on your palm matched only by the shock on Rafe's face. For a split second, everything was still.

Rafe's eyes turned to steel, his demeanor shifting chillingly in a heartbeat. He closed in, his voice a venomous whisper slicing through the salty sea air. "You must have a death wish," he hissed, an unmistakable dangerous edge to his words. His hand gingerly brushed his reddening jaw, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. "Your dad's freedom? It's dangling by the thinnest thread... The right words from a senator could decide whether he walks free or becomes someone's bitch behind bars."

He paused, his gaze falling to the flower crown in your hand. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out to touch it, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate petals, an almost gentle gesture that was jarringly at odds with the tension of the moment.

"If you want to help your dad, having a friend like me might be your best bet." he murmured. "Think it over, yeah?" His gaze lifted back to yours, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you whispered, disgust fueled your retreat as you stormed away, his chilling laugh echoing ominously in the night air.

"You will, princess. When you come to your senses, you will."

Rafe's lingering words pressed on you, growing heavier with each breath. The looming possibility of your father's life behind bars became ever more ominous as Rafe presented a potential solution—a solution with an inconceivable price tag.

How could he even insinuate such a thing? The mere suggestion repulsed you, igniting a fury at Rafe's audacity. Yet the unease gnawing at your belly made you question: to what lengths would you go to save your dad? With your family facing disgrace and teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, Rafe's proposal offered a faint glimmer of hope, even if it took the ugliest of forms.

In the solitude of your bedroom, the pristine walls seemed to close in, just like the midsummer ball. Picking up your phone, you stared at the screen, the bright white light harsh against the dim setting. The contacts list stared back, an overwhelming list of names, none of whom had reached out during your family's time of need.

You scrolled, hesitating briefly before landing on Rafe's name. A whirlwind of emotions — from anger to desperation — consumed you as you pressed on it. Trembling fingers typed, deleted, and retyped a message multiple times, finally settling on the simplest of words.

"We need to talk."

Almost immediately, three dots danced on the screen.

"Tomorrow 7pm, Tannyhill.”

Was Rafe’s curt response.

You could barely sleep that night, as your mind raced, forming what you hoped was a semblance of a plan. You needed to negotiate on your terms, to retain some shred of dignity. It wasn't a detailed strategy, but it was enough to at least get through Rafe's offer with your sanity.

The next day as you approached Tannyhill, you whispered silent affirmations to yourself, reaffirming your resolve, your worth, and the necessity of your mission.

And then, there he was. Rafe Cameron, leaning casually against the frame of the ornate door, a picture of wealth and arrogance, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the impending darkness of the evening.

Rafe opened the door for you, his face betraying a flicker of something you couldn't quite read, but there was no turning back now. You stepped in, ready to negotiate with the devil himself if it meant saving your family.

"Where's everyone?" you asked, there was no point in exchanging pleasantries. Nothing about the situation was remotely pleasant.

"Movies. You know, I hadn't expected a text from you so soon." his voice dripped with condescension, "I was betting on at least a week or two."

"Yeah well, it is my dad's life on the line," your footsteps echoed with purpose as you followed him into the living room, eyes steeling for the battle ahead. "The sooner we finalize our agreement, the quicker you can pull whatever strings you have, right?"

Rafe spun around, his gaze locking onto yours. The sly curve of his lips unsettling. "Sure, I’ll make a few calls,” he stated, voice dark and sardonic, "but it'll depend on the terms we agree to."

"Alright…” you braced yourself, your arms folded trying to regain control. "Let's start with how lon--"

“A year,” Rafe cut in, not breaking eye contact.

"That's out of the question. A month," you shot back.

His chuckle resonated with an underlying seriousness, his eyes narrowing in focus "Sure, we can say a month. You willing to fuck me at least twice a day? No? Then eleven."

You straightened your back, your resolve hardening. "Two months, tops."

His eyes gleamed as he considered your counteroffer. "How about this, we keep our little arrangement going until your dad's free. It could be a month, maybe two…” he shrugged nonchalantly “It might even be a year. It depends on how soon he’s out. What do you think?"

You hesitated, visibly weighing the implications of such an open-ended commitment. Your dad’s charges were serious. The chances of those charges disappearing and him being released in a month seemed like a miracle. "What if it drags on for years?" you whispered.

Rafe’s grin grew more pronounced, relishing your distress. "Well, princess, that's for you to decide. You can always walk away whenever you think it’s unbearable. Does that seem fair?"

"Okay, fine. Now about condoms--”

“Not using them--”

“Oh, we’re using them. I’m not interested in having your kid, Rafe, and I’m certainly not interested in catching anything from you.”

“While I should be fucking insulted” he said dryly “I always glove up and get tested regularly too.”

“Okay, so why are you suddenly against using condoms with me, then?”

“Because I promised myself…” he said slowly, his voice lowering as he made his way towards you, “If I ever got the chance to fuck you, I'd do it raw.”

Your jaw clicked, your hands itching to slap him again. “Weren’t you fooling around with Letizia a couple of weeks back?”

“Yeah, so? I was gloved up.”

“I don't care. You've slept with half the girls on figure 8. I want you fully tested before we even think about doing anything. Condoms every time, no excuses.”

“Alright. I’ll get tested. Condoms while fucking, no condoms for blowjobs.”

"Yeah, about that, I'm not doing oral.'” you said folding your arms in resignation.

Rafe's eyes bore into yours, annoyance coloring his features.

"No. No. You don’t get to dictate how I fuck you." he snapped, his voice taking on edge of authority. "Look, i’m willing to let you negotiate a few terms, give you some semblance of control but it’s got to be worth my while, and for it to be worth it, I get to fuck you how I want, when I want.”

You swallowed, feeling your resolve waver.

"Now, here's what I want to make this deal work: when I call, you answer. No matter the place, no matter the time. You show up. Clear?" Rafe said.

You paused before giving a hesitant nod, the magnitude of your agreement dawning on you.

"And if I ask you to wear something specific, you will. No questions. We have a deal?"

Your throat tightened as his demands began to overwhelm you, but you managed a brief nod in response.

"Remember, fail to meet my terms, and our deal ends. Understood?"

Another nod.

"Anything else?"

“When will you make the call?” you asked quickly.

“After our first session,” he proposed, his smile revealing a hint of anticipation. “After that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure your dad’s free”

" I want proof. I want proof that you’d stick to your part of the deal.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good." you said as you took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Get tested and send me the results," you responded, you're tone neutral, treating it as a standard business transaction. "I'll do the same. We can then choose a time and date."

Rafe nodded in agreement, his gaze intense and piercing.

You extended your hand towards him.

"What's that for?" he chuckled lowly.

"A handshake. To seal the deal."

Rafe reached out, his arms enveloping you in a firm yet tender grasp, pulling you against him. "How about we seal this deal with a kiss, hmm?" he murmured, "Especially since we'll be doing a lot more than kissing very soon."

Rafe leaned in, letting his lips graze yours. But you stiffened, instinctively tilting your head so that his lips met your cheek instead. A soft chuckle escaped him as he retreated just a fraction.

“Ah ah” he chided. With his fingers gently but firmly cradling your jaw, he directed your face back to his, an unsettling tension growing palpable between you.

"Play. Nice.” he whispered, his voice considerably smug. "Kiss me. Like you mean it." It wasn't a mere request; it was a command that left you feeling completely cornered.

A battle of wills ensued; neither of you making the first move, both of you waiting for the other to blink first. Rafe's eyes never left your own as he leaned in once again, his determination clear.

His tongue gently pushed past your parted lips, and you allowed it, setting off a delicate yet conflicting dance between your tongues and lips.

Groaning into your mouth, his eyes shut as the kiss deepened, carrying an undeniable intensity. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping at your tender flesh until his tongue lashed hungrily against yours sending a peculiar mix of tingles and dread coursing through you.

Finally, you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath while your chest heaved. Rafe remained close, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breathing matching your intensity.

"I'll get tested first thing tomorrow," he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and desire. "Make sure you do, too."

"All clear."

That was the message Rafe sent you two days after your heated conversation, accompanied by a screengrab of his test results. Without hesitation, you replied, sending him your own results in return.

As your fingers tapped across the screen, a surge of disgust washed over you. The very idea of being intimate with Rafe was anything but appealing; it fact, it made you feel sick.

You'd never choose Rafe of your own volition. Sure he was handsome but his excessive drinking and drug habits were repellant, and his disdain and bullying nature towards the Pogues was disturbing. None of his qualities were remotely attractive, let alone fuckable.

But then, the stern, resilient part of you asserted itself, urging you to focus on the goal at hand.

This was not about you or Rafe; it was about orchestrating your father's release from prison, a critical mission where failure wasn't an option. With this clear objective ingrained in your mind, you steeled your resolve, preparing yourself for what lay ahead.

When he proposed meeting up that same night, you didn't find it strange given Rafe's impulsive nature. However, the location he suggested did catch you off guard.

It wasn't Tannyhill, the somewhat familiar and comfortable place you had anticipated, but instead, an unfamiliar address. The randomness of the location set off tiny alarms in the back of your mind, making you wary but you took a deep breath, quickly typing out your response-

"I'll be there."

It wasn't just any random address, as you initially thought.

At the front of a gated tree-lined drive stood a prominent sign declaring, “Cameron Developments.” The freshly poured concrete and stacks of lumber clearly indicated that it was a home under renovation.

As you made your way along the winding path, unease gripped you, but the sight of Rafe’s truck haphazardly parked near the entrance reassured you that you had indeed reached the right place.

The estate was draped in an unsettling darkness, punctuated only by the soft chirping of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, and the sporadic glow of work lights from inside, hinting at the ongoing renovations.

Exiting your car, you took a moment to absorb the scene before approaching the house. With each step towards the porch, your heart rate quickened. But before you could even announce your presence, the heavy door groaned open, revealing the looming presence of Rafe.

His expression, obscured by the shadows and dim work lights from within, gave away nothing. Without a word, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter, then closed the door and locked it.

A knot formed in your throat, a cocktail of dread and adrenaline. Pushing the mounting fear aside, you gathered your voice, attempting to sound braver than you felt. "Alright, let's get this over with," you said.

A wicked grin tugged at the corner of Rafe's lips. You felt an icy dread settle in your chest. "Oh, we will," he murmured, "But first, I want to play a game... to make things... interesting." The atmosphere grew heavy, oppressive.

"One minute" he said, as he cracked his neck from side to side, his eyes boring into you. "You get a one-minute head start and after that, after that--" he sighed happily "I'm coming for you. Run."

Panic gripped you. "Run? What? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean run?" you stammered, your voice edged with rising panic.

But his eyes were cold, devoid of humor or empathy. He leaned closer, his voice a menacing hiss that left no room for interpretation. "Run."

A rush of adrenaline hit you, and without another word, you sprinted past him as if your very life depended on it.

You had no clear destination in mind, only the primal instinct to run and hide. Every fiber of your being was attuned to survival. Heart pounding in your chest, you sprinted up the grand staircase, taking the steps three at a time, feeling the weight of your own desperation in every leap.

At the top, a maze of doors and hallways stretched out before you. You lunged for the nearest one, finding yourself in a dimly lit bedroom freshly painted in white. Shadows danced on the walls from the solitary work light, and your gaze immediately snapped to a closet on your right.

Without hesitation, you slipped inside, gently closing the door behind you. The smell of paint and cedar filled your nostrils. Placing a trembling hand over your mouth, you tried to muffle the sound of your heavy, ragged breathing.

Gently, so as not to make a sound, you nudged the slatted shutter doors of the closet closed, leaving only thin slivers of the room visible – distorted, but enough to keep watch.

The ominous sound of footsteps reached your ears; they were methodical, unhurried. Rafe was searching, savoring the hunt. You watched in horror as his elongated shadow, cast by the work light, drifted across the closet. A cold sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to fight back the urge to gasp as the shadow paused momentarily by the closet doors.

After what felt like an eternity, the shadow moved away, and you heard his footsteps retreating. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you gave yourself a moment to gather your bearings. But you knew all too well you couldn't remain hidden for long; he would inevitably retrace his steps and find you.

Gathering your courage, you carefully eased the closet doors open and quickly scanned the room for an escape route. Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you made your move. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you tiptoed across the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards that might betray your presence. But the moment you stepped out of the bedroom, you collided with a solid mass.

Rafe's eyes pierced through to your soul, pure hunger reflected in them as he stared down at you. His hand clamped around your throat, pulling you close as the smell of your fear and his cologne filled your nostrils in a nauseating mix. His lips crushed against yours, ravaging your mouth with an intensity that nearly made you faint.

As your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, you frantically writhed in his grip. Your fists relentlessly pounded against his arm, trying to get him to relinquish his hold on you, but it was no use. In one swift motion, Rafe backed you into the bedroom and forcefully dragged you to the floor, your fingers wildly clawing at his arm as you searched for any type of leverage you could find.

Rafe ravished your neck with unbridled hunger, his other hand violently tugged at your skirt and panties, scraping the skin of your thighs until finding your moist center—the slippery wetness signifying your surrender to pleasure. Rafe groaned as his fingertips slid through your slick folds and into you causing you to gasp at the white-hot jolts of pleasure.

"For someone who's only doing this to save their dad, you're soaked..." Rafe laughed breathlessly, trailing a line of wet kisses up your throat. "All that sanctimonious bullshit about what you will and won't do and look at you, fucking dripping for my cock—”

"Fuck you!" you screeched, a potent mixture of embarrassment and venomous rage coursing through you has you writhing beneath him, your determination to push him off almost frantic.

"That's it—fight back," he jeered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Fight back. It'll make this all the more satisfying."

You kicked and screamed, only for Rafe to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands connected your wrists together over your head. In a single move, he flipped you onto your stomach and straddled you from behind, his erection pressing against your ass.

One of Rafe's hands tears off your panties, your screams in protest seize immediately as Rafe stuffed the flimsy cotton into your mouth.

"There," he taunted with a sinister chuckle, pressing you down further as you desperately attempted to wriggle free. You strained to let out a scream, your voice stifled by the makeshift gag.

That same hand worked feverishly to free himself from his pants. You could feel the throbbing heat of his erection at the cleft of your ass. Could hear him tearing open the condom packet with his teeth, the necessary prelude to satiating his ever-growing hunger.

Not too long after he was grinding the head of his cock against your wetness while you fought to express your protests through the gag.

"No, no, this is what we've agreed to. What you agreed to..." Rafe's breath hitched as his cock slid over your weeping slit. With one hard, raw thrust, barely allowing you time to adjust to his girth, he plunged himself deep inside you.

He wasted no time, immediately beginning his relentless thrusts, utterly indifferent to your muffled struggles behind the gag. Your body writhed beneath his weight, your movements punctuated by desperate grunts, the hardwood floor beneath you offering no mercy.

After a brief moment, Rafe released your wrists and drew you closer, his grip on your hips unwavering as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting intensity. Your head spun as you gradually surrendered to the powerful cadence of his movements. His hands clung to you possessively, guiding both of you in a desperate, synchronized dance. Every nerve in your body ignited, a primal heat surging from deep within.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your body succumbed to his unyielding force. Despite the freedom of your hands, you found yourself paralyzed, incapable of resisting or offering any form of resistance. Instead, you relinquished control, allowing Rafe to claim you entirely.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna cum. Cum with me," he growled through gritted teeth, his tempo increasing to a punishing pace.

You weakly shook your head, 'no,' your determination unwavering as you fought to maintain control over your desires. The mere thought of your pleasure becoming entangled with his, sullied and exploited for his depraved fantasies, was something you could not bear.

"Oh, you'll cum-" he sneered.

In a sudden, ominous gesture, he swiftly removed his leather belt from its loop around his pants and coiled it around your neck, pulling and winding it tightly around his fist.

"If you want to breathe, you'll cum," he snarled, pounding you with relentless force. The room was filled only with the sound of your choked gasps for air, Rafe's ragged breaths, the creak of the leather as he tightened his grip, and the rhythmic punishing slap of his hips against your flesh. You fought with every ounce of your being not to succumb to your impending orgasm, tears streaming uncontrollably from your eyes as you waged a futile battle.

The room reverberated with your agonized screams as your orgasm overtook you. Your muscles tensed and quivered beneath you, each wave of pleasure crashing over you like a violent tsunami drowning you. Your fingers clawed at the belt constricting your throat, the leather biting into your skin and to your abject horror, you were gushing around his cock as you climaxed.

Rafe fucked you with a feverish frenzy, burying his face in the back of your neck. With a triumphant roar, Rafe's orgasm struck, and he shuddered against you, muffling his moans of pleasure into your skin as he stuffed his cock deep.

Sated and content, he collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored, the condom filled with his cum. After a moment, he withdrew and shifted to lie beside you.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you managed to free yourself from the tight confines of the belt and the stifling gag that had cruelly silenced you. Every fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, screamed with raw pain as you gulped in fresh air, each breath feeling like a hard-won victory. Tears of relief and anguish streamed down your face, and with a shaky hand, you hastily brushed them away.

The room seemed to sway, a disorienting blend of fear, relief, and vertigo threatening to drag you into terrifying darkness.

Yet, slicing through the fog of your distress was the haunting sound of Rafe's laughter. His voice was breathless, yet unmistakably gleeful. His fingers, dampened with sweat, raked through his messy hair, highlighting his heightened state of manic exhilaration.

"Next time," he grinned, a chilling promise lacing his words, "Next time, we'll use rope."

--------------

Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like/reblog/drop a comment would love to know what you think. Until next time ❤️

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #dark!rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #obx #18+ read #dirtytomatoedwrites #dark rafe cameron #smut warning

[gentlyweeps-world]

Confessions

summary: You and Logan open up after some alcohol.

pairing: logan sargeant x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, none

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

It was well known that you and Logan liked each other, at least it was well known between your friend group.

The longing glances in crowded rooms, shy smiles being shared, always ending up besides one another, always being fidgety around each other, truly the list goes on.

You didn’t pick up on any of it, mostly focused on the fact that “he’s a Formula One driver, why would he ever be interested in me”.

“You know that’s bullshit right?” Your friend Stella says, moving around the bathroom as she adjusts her hair and makeup.

“Well I think it’s perfectly reasonable and logical..” You grumble out, rolling your eyes at her.

It was summer break, your friends and you free from University, and Logan free from Formula One for a tiny while, and with that your friend group decided why not rent out a cabin in the woods with a pool. Wanting to relax and party, let loose as some would say.

“Listen to yourself Y/n! You are completely delusional!” Your other friend, Morgan says, leaning against the door frame to the bathroom. “If I had those situations with a guy you’d be screaming at me to wake up and realize we’re perfect together..” She adds on.

After a moment of silence you finally reply, “Fair point..” You say with a small sight, touching up your own hair and makeup.

“Well I think we look hot so let’s go out and drink!” Stella says with a cheer, ushering you and Morgan outside and to the fire pit, where the other guys were waiting, beers and seltzers at the ready.

Chairs were situated around the fire pit, obviously, you take a seat next to Logan, gratefully accepting the seltzer he handed you.

“So how do you think this night will end?” He asks with a grin, glancing at you then back to the flaming fire, taking a drink of his beer.

“Hmm, Morgan and Dalton will end up hooking up again and…” You say pausing, looking around at your friends laughing and drinking around the fire, “Stella will end up relentlessly flirting with Oliver..” You finish with a grin.

“Honestly..not a bad guess..” He says with a grin and chuckle, eyes twinkling as he looks at you. Now of course you didn’t realize the way he looked at you, “So..how’s the racing life treating you?” You ask, as if you hadn’t been invited and gone to some Grand Prixs and didn’t stalk his social media.

“To be honest, this break is welcomed, and just needed.” He replies, sipping on his beer and looking at you. You give him a soft smile, knowing the truth behind his words. “It’ll let up, I know it will..” You say softly, “Anyway- let’s talk about something fun!” You add on.

“Like what? You know there isn’t much other than racing and cars to me.” He grins.

“You’re boring..” You grumble out jokingly, “Any girls in your life now that you’re a hot shot in F1?” You ask teasingly, truly just wanting to know.

Even if you asked your friends many times, and they’ve said he isn’t seeing anyone, you still needed to hear it from him. “Well..” He pauses for a moment, deciding to make you sweat just a bit. “Not currently..but there’s potential in someone, I think.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Well I won’t grill you for any more information then..” You say with a smile, drinking your seltzer.

———

Hours have passed now, you and Logan are the only two out in front of the fire now, alcohol flowing through your veins as you and Logan giggle and laugh, sharing stories back from high school.

“You know, you’re beautiful when you laugh.” The comment slips out so easy it surprises even Logan. “Damn it..I mean..” He pauses for a moment before chuckling.

You could notice his face flushing up, dimples on show as he awkwardly smiles and chuckles. “Well- you’re pretty handsome when you laugh..” You say drunkenly with a grin.

“Wait- do you remember when we were younger and- and we were having a sleep over- which why did our parents let us do that? Anyway! During that night you had fallen asleep on my shoulder- you looked so cute like that..” You mumble out, slurring your words as you smile thinking back on that memory.

“Are you saying I can still be cute..?” He asks teasingly, smirk on his lips as his cheeks are turning a soft pink. “Well yes of course that’s a stupid question..” You say, rolling your eyes.

There was a beat of silence, you could only make out the crackling fire, crickets and owls in the background. “Can I kiss you?” Logan asks hurriedly, with not much thought behind his words.

Although it was a simple question, it had left you stunned. Eyes wide and lips parted. You could make out the instant regret on his face, “Shit- I’m sorry Y/n..pretend I didn’t say that” He rushes out, regret and disappointment clear in his eyes.

“Yes..yes you can kiss me..” You speak up finally, shock and surprise wearing off.

Logan didn’t have time to think because he leans forward rapidly, his fingertips touching your cheeks and his other hand making its way to the back of your head as his lips press up against yours. He kisses you gently, wanting to take you up in his arms right now but he knows that would be going too far.

“Sorry I took so long to do that..” He murmurs between kisses, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you close.

“It’s okay..you’re doing it now..” You whisper out, moving to a more comfortable position, and tangling your fingers into his blonde hair.

Logan lets out a moan of content, placing his forehead against yours and letting himself be lost in the moment.

“Mhmm..” He whispers softly, his hands roaming along your back and down to your waist. “I have wanted to do this for so long....”

“Why didn’t you do it sooner?” You ask, eyes sparkling with admiration as you look at him.

The words are still slurred due to the alcohol and it’s effects are strong right now. “I wanted to, trust me.” He responds, eyes never leaving yours. “But I was worried your would have laughed at me and rejected me..” He replies, a small smirk playing on his lips. It was a valid reason, yet you would have never rejected him.

“Logan I’ve liked you since grade school..I wouldn’t have rejected you..” You say with a soft smile. “You liked me back..?” He asks with a shocked tone to his voice, his smile widening. “I guess I missed all of the signs you threw at me.” Logan laughs, kissing you again then resting his forehead against yours, you could feel his heat radiating against your skin.

“We both definitely missed the signs..” You say with a giggle, your body warm and tingling, not just because of the alcohol.

“Maybe we’re both just idiots.” He says laughing, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you as close as he can. Logan is enjoying this moment, and it is obvious that you are as well. You could feel his breath against your skin, his fingers tracing along your back ever so gently.

“Definitely..” You murmur out in content, happy the pieces finally came together.

“Let’s go Logan! Woo!!” You could hear Dalton cheer from the cabin. You and Logan look at each other with sheepish grins and flushed faces.

Logan gives you a grin, taking your hand and standing up with you. “Oh god that idiot..” He shrugs it off as he pulls you along to the cabin.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

radio 🪩: A little Logan fic for you guys! Send in any requests or comments! 💙

#formula one #formula 1 #forumla 1 #logan sargeant #formula 1 x reader #f1 #williams f1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one fic #williams formula 1 #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargeant x y/n #logan sargeant x you #logie sarge #williams racing #f1 wags #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #gently weeps fics #gently weeps

[thecrystalquill]

Can you make oliver wood x slytherin reader

My requests aren’t open but you’re lucky you caught me needing to get out of a creative slump and this request was vague enough to spark something.

Enjoy my first Oliver Wood one-shot my wee fellow snakes

Check out my Masterlist for more

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Sweet Surprises

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He’d wanted to hate her. Truly he did. He’d wanted to hate everything from the way she walked to the curve of her smile; the way she talked to people, the kindness in her eyes, the laugh that made his heart flutter; he’d wanted especially to hate the green robes she dawned as she flew about the pitch, but they suited her too well.

So he didn’t hate her. Not even in the slightest. Not even when she looked him straight in the eyes after every goal she launched past him, smiling that smile that had him weak in the knees, resisting the urge to apologise for ever being in her way.

There were probably dozens of reasons why the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was so strong, but Quidditch must have accounted for a good chunk of it. It was no secret that Slytherin’s team often played dirty, but other than the odd sneaky trick, Oliver knew he didn’t have to worry about that with (Y/N). And the argument she put up with her Captain over foul play was impressive; the power and authority in her voice never ceased to amaze him - if the system wasn’t rigged in favour of the rich and pure, he had no doubt that she would be their Captain, and Merlin would she do it well.

People thought they were so opposite, and on the outside it did seem like it. But their differences put aside, they were so similar, so alike, that something like an age old house rivalry seemed so unimportant the second they became friends.

Were they friends? Neither of them had ever said it but he liked to think so. When they first met, Oliver had thought it impossible. But when she’d come over after their first match in third year, her first time playing against Gryffindor, she proved otherwise. He remembers expecting her to be a sore loser, like many were, to say something insulting and standoffish. She surprised him. Congratulating his win, asking about his skill, making conversation. She continues to surprise him.

Now they were getting close to the end of their last year at Hogwarts, homework and studying took over most of their time, and Quidditch took the rest. But they found time for each other. He would help her with Transfiguration, she would help with his Herbology work, study sessions that lasted hours because they couldn’t focus on the work before them, and not to mention how she was the only reason he was passing his potions practicals.

“Are you listening?”

Blinking, Oliver turned his head to her. Her. Sat beside him in the muggle clothes her father sent, Astronomy book sat on her jean-clad lap, thigh just barely brushing his, and the bright red and white shoes she said were ‘knock-off converse’ (whatever that meant); he liked that she wasn’t unwilling to wear red, maybe she liked the rebellion and the look her peers gave her, he liked to think it was because it was his colour.

Clearing his throat, Oliver shifted his weight on the grass. “Sorry,” he began, trying not to think too hard on how beautiful she looked in the noon sunlight, “lost in thought.”

(Y/N) smiled at him, and he was glad to already be sitting down. “What about?”

Of course, he wasn’t just going to say ‘I was just thinking about how we met and how lovely you are and how you look sitting here with me in the sun looking like a literal angel and you’re my favourite person and I’m completely in love with you’. That might have saved far too much trouble. So instead he rubbed his neck and said the next thing that had been on his mind. “I don’t want this to end.” The furrow of her brow had his heart leap into his throat. Rewind. Backup. “I-I mean -er… things’re just good now, y’know? But we’re graduating soon and then what? I’ve been scouted by Puddlemere United, you got a letter about trying for Montrose Magpies which I know are your favourite and you’re gonna do amazing. Everything’s gonna change and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” It was a topic that had been weighing on him for months, if not all year.

Uncrossing her legs, (Y/N) closed her book and turned on her side, propping herself up with one arm and sitting up to face him properly. “You’re right.” She said, and Oliver wanted to point out how those words had literally never passed her lips before, until she sent him a look as if she could read his mind. “Things are gonna change, but they’re gonna change for the better.”

“How do you know?” He asked, looking into her eyes like he was studying every shade and colour in her irises.

The corner of her lips quirked upward, trying not to smile at the remarkable comparison of his expression to that of a sad puppy. “I just do. When am I ever wrong?” He raised a brow and she immediately shook her head at him and waved a hand. “Y’know what, no, don’t answer that.” She laughed and rolled her eyes at the snicker she drew from him. Placing her hand on his, she gave him the most reassuring look she had. “But I know I’m right about this. Things are gonna change but they’re gonna get so good, Ol.”

In a moment of boldness, Oliver turned his palm up to hold her hand in his, savouring how they fit perfectly together, the softness of her fingers wrapped around his. “But what if…” he hesitated, rubbing his thumb on her hand to calm his nerves, the mere thought of what he wanted to say setting heavy on his heart, “what if we don’t see each other… what if we grow apart?”

But, as mentioned before, she never ceased to surprise him. Instead of the comforting words he’d expected, he felt a soft whack on the back of his head. “What’re you doing putting thoughts like that out into the universe? Are you mad?” She said, scolding him in that playfully serious tone she used to torment the younger teammates. Changing her position, (Y/N) faced him fully and took both of his hands in hers, squeezing them tight to make sure he was paying attention. “You and I, we’re our own team, okay? If anything we’re gonna grow closer. We’ll see each other all the time, we’ll make sure. Who else is gonna put up with me?”

Not that he ever had to simply ‘put up’ with her. Godric, he’d listen to every rant and every digression if it meant he could spend all his time with her. “And if we get too busy? You in Montrose and me in Pudlemere, we wouldn’t exactly run into each other.”

(Y/N) sat back on her knees, thinking for a minute, and he felt like he was waiting for the blade to drop. Then she smiled again, and her eyes lit up like she’d won the Quidditch Cup. “Then we move in together.”

She said it so matter-of-factly, like it were just a simple solution and not a sentence that made his entire head swim. Surely she didn’t just say that. Surely he’d just misheard. “What?”

“Well think about it.” She said, grinning in excitement. “With two incomes we can get a nice apartment and not have to worry too much about spending, we can Floo to work, we’ll see each other everyday - not to mention I’d feel better if I wasn’t living alone. It’s perfect!”

That’s it - he was sure he was going to pass out. “I- y- r-really?” Oliver stuttered out, feeling his face starting to flush and trying to fight it. She waited for him to get his head around it, sat as close to him as she could in this position, still holding his hands tight in hers, smiling that smile that took his breath away. What other answer was there? “Okay.”

As soon as the word passed his lips, (Y/N) threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in an excited embrace. She was ranting on in elation, spewing words over his shoulder on the new topic, but Oliver was no longer listening, feeling like time moved slower; closing his eyes, he held her right to him and savoured her warmth, the feeling of her body wrapped around his, his arms around her waist. Whatever she was saying, it didn’t matter - she could be talking about painting the whole apartment bright pink and turquoise and he’d be okay with it - as long as she was there, hugging him like this. His mind started to calculate ways to get her to hug him like this all the time: bringing home flowers to surprise her, baking a cake when she gets her job, buying her the perfect gift for her birthday - as long as she hugged him like this. Maybe eventually it might become a habit. An embrace that conveyed every comfort; and then he knew she was right - with her, everything would be fine.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

What do you think?? Leave a comment:D

#oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter golden era x reader #harry potter golden era #x slytherin!reader #Oliver wood x Slytherin!reader #harry potter x slytherin!reader #griffindor x slytherin #x reader #x y/n #golden era x reader

[friendlyneighorhoodchaosdemon]

Catharsis | Adrian Chase

this fic is race/ hair type/ body type neutral; why does that matter? If you feel I’ve overlooked something in regard to this, no matter how “small”, please let me know!

@stealsteels threatened to BEAT ME UP (real) if I didn't post this so I'm doing it.

(…in all seriousness, thank you for all of your encouragement, it truly means the world ♡)

word count | 5.1k (woof)

warnings/ notes | 18+, fluff/ smut; fingering, spanking, vibrators, kink exploration/ discovery, trusting and communicating with your partner (hot), service top Adrian, masochistic reader/ sadistic Adrian if you squint.

as noted, this contains spanking. It is of course fully consensual, something reader explicitly asks for and (most importantly) NOT a punishment, but I realize it still isn’t everyone's thing, so please be mindful.

also this is incredibly self indulgent and tbh maybe a little out of character, and turned out a lot fluffier and domestic that I intended.

ao3

minors/ ageless blogs please respect my wishes and do not interact with my work/ blog. I will block you :)

You hear him before you see him. A double shift at Fennel Fields followed by hours of shooting a bunch of appliances in the woods with Chris and he still careens into your apartment with all the intensity and finesse of a hurricane. The endless amount of energy he seemed to have was sometimes baffling, and while it was usually fun to have your own personal Energizer bunny around (especially in bed), sometimes you really envied it. 

You especially envy it on days like today when you felt like you could barely drag yourself through a comparatively low stakes and low effort day.

That feeling doesn’t last long though, because as soon as he toes his shoes off (a task that takes significantly longer than it should because he refuses to untie his laces, insisting that it’s faster even though it clearly isn’t) and rounds the corner into the kitchen, he shoots you his signature smile and you instantly feel that warmth you only seem to feel around him. 

Shoes successfully removed, he ambles over to where you stand in front of the stove, fanning yourself as you lower the heat of the burner. Strong arms instinctively find their way around your waist and he nuzzles into your side, dropping tiny kisses to your cheek. Said kisses are, of course, mostly a means of distraction so that he can reach around you to grab the spoon you'd been stirring with and stick the entire thing in his mouth, but it’s still cute enough to earn him a few kisses in return.

You return to stirring (with a new spoon), humming your replies as he launches into his recap of the day’s events. The recaps are rarely linear (sometimes they're not even coherent), so by now you’re used to the way he flip flops between how crazy the recoil from Chris' Desert Eagle was (“I mean yeah okay, I shot it without his permission, but holy shit babe that thing is crazy! Maybe I should get one. I mean when you think about it it’s actually kind of weird that we don’t have matching guns. Do you think he would think that was weird? If I got the same gun as him?”), to how he’d broken a guy's kneecaps after he'd caught him pushing his girlfriend into a wall in a dark alley, to how some other guy had actually proposed at Fennel Fields (“but don’t worry babe, when I propose it’ll be somewhere way nicer. Like at least  Olive Garden or better.”)

The last bit earns him an eye roll and a nudge to the ribs, but you still can’t help the grin that pulls at your lips.

With dinner done, he finally disentangles himself from you to grab the plates and silverware and plops down in front of the tv. Tonight you’re finishing up the latest season of Barry (a show he finds hilarious, more for the gore than the actual comedy), but the second you take your seat next to him his arms immediately find their way around your middle. 

“You know you can’t eat if you’re holding me, right?” you question, arching an eyebrow at him.

Undeterred, he pulls you even tighter, insisting that he “totally can though!”

“I’ve mastered the art. See, look,” He demonstrates said “mastery” by pulling you into his chest and bringing his plate around so that it sits on his open palm in front of you. He grins down at you, hopeful you’ll just ignore the high likelihood of pasta sauce spilling down your front with one wrong move. You pat his cheek and shake your head no, moving to separate your bodies. He pouts, truly pouts at you and once again find yourself unable to hide your smile. 

“Okay okay, what about if you lay down on my chest and I put my plate on your back?” 

“Then how would I eat?” 

He ponders this for a second until you see another lightbulb go off.

“Okay, what about you sit in my lap and hold your plate and I-”

“I swear, if you suggest putting your plate on my head...”

“You didn’t let me finish!” 

Another skeptical look before you sigh and motion for him to finish.

“...But yes I was going to say that.”

The way he seems to so desperately want this to work is perhaps a little annoying, but mostly very cute and endearing. Another eye roll makes it clear that his request is out of the question, and he’ll, for the time being, have to settle for eating like a normal person.

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see a guy's brains splatter as he gets shot in the head point blank. Despite the fact that you know about Adrian’s propensity for violence, it still gets to you and you wince. He pulls you tightly into his side, rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder and you settle into his touch, muttering your thanks into his sweatshirt and pressing a grateful peck to his chin. You sigh contentedly and press your face into his side and your eyes drift closed as you inhale his scent.

A bark of laughter jolts you awake. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but sure enough when you look up the credits are rolling. You yawn and stretch, craning your neck to look up at him and he seems to immediately sense your stare. He smiles that smile, the one that’s sweet like his normal one but also not, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he’s thinking about something not so sweet, and the proof of what he exactly he's thinking is now pressing up against you. You turn to face him fully, taking in his lopsided smile and the slight splotchy blush creeping over his neck and plant a small teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Obviously this isn’t enough for him, and he leans over to gently grab the back of your neck and pulls you to him. The kiss is… kind of a lot, to be honest, but most things with Adrian are. Overeager as always he wastes no time licking along the seam of your mouth, asking for entry. You don't oblige him, not yet, opting to tease him instead as you nip his bottom lip.

You hug him closer, feeling the muscles in his back flex under your touch as he tilts your head to the side to suck at the skin of your neck. You move to straddle him but he's already getting impatient and makes a frustrated sound as he grips your thighs and pulls you the rest of the way into his lap. With you seated fully on top of him, he moves one hand to your hip to hold you solidly in place while the other snakes up under your shirt. Adrian is rarely smooth and tonight is no exception. His hands move over you as if he's unsure where to go or where to stop, touching you like it's the first time. They ghost over your stomach and up between your breasts before finally settling on your ass in a nice firm hold.

He finally frees your neck, laving sloppy kisses over your tender skin before pulling away completely. The momentary loss of contact is enough for you to come back to your senses and you push lightly against his chest.

“Hi.” Hi? You scoff at yourself. Great start. 

You have no idea why you’re feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden, especially when he's looking at you like that.

The way he noticeably focuses when you have something to say, absorbing your every word is endearing but sometimes it also feels so intense. Especially now, when he’s sitting here, half hard underneath you, eyes growing wide and curious under his large frames.

You gather yourself and clear your throat.

“I uh, I actually wanted to talk about something. To ask you something, actually. I mean, we obviously don’t have to do it tonight, or do anything tonight. I mean I know you’ve had a really long day so I don’t want you to feel obligated to do it tonight, or at all even, if you don't want to. I don’t even know if it’s something you’d be interested in so, no pressure, obviously.” 

You’re way too aware of the fact that you’re rambling, which is typically more of an Adrian thing than a you thing, but despite (or maybe because of) your awareness, you can’t seem to stop. The words just keep tumbling out, and now you’re getting flustered and a little bit annoyed with yourself, in large part because it's Adrian for Christ's sake. He's never judged you for your desires and you know it's not in his nature. Even now he just sits there, ignoring his own arousal, patiently waiting for you to get the words out, tracing comforting (albeit distracting) shapes against the tops of your thighs. In spite of all this you still struggle with simply just saying what you want– what you need. You take another breath.

"I want…" 

You had what felt like the most supportive partner in the world, so why did this feel so fucking hard?

He nods, squeezing your sides, encouraging you to continue. “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I'll give it to you.” 

"I, uh, I want you to spank me." You hold your breath, gauging his reaction carefully.

He immediately perks up at this and just like that, you’re at ease again. Not even a hint of the hesitation or confusion (or even worse, judgment or disgust) you’d dealt with the few times you’d brought it up with previous partners. Not even the well meaning (but kind of annoying) "I don't want to hurt you" you'd come to expect. Then again, this is Adrian, your Adrian, and now you’re wondering why you were even worried in the first place. 

Then again, it wasn't like this was exactly a shocking revelation. Adrian already knew you liked some pain and he’d been more than happy to give you the occasional playful spank before, in and out of the bedroom. Even though what you're asking for now was much different, his reaction is a huge relief.

For his part, he sits there, fucking beaming at you. His eyes drift to your lips again, tongue sneaking out to lick his own as he leans in to nip at you this time. For a moment he lingers, like he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you or move back down to your neck. He goes with the former, pulling you into a searing kiss. You don’t consider yourself the type to get easily flustered, but fuck if he isn’t literally taking your breath away right now. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, payback for earlier, and you gasp. His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck again, squeezing just the tiniest bit. You know he's barely using any of his strength and that knowledge makes you shudder.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

You laugh, “I um…” To be honest, you kind of hadn’t really put much thought into logistics and the kiss wasn't making it any easier to think.

You don’t have to flounder for too long though, because now that you’ve put the idea into his head, he’s running with it. 

“Want me to bend you over the couch?” 

Another thing most people don’t know about Adrian, and you’re thankful for this, is how… focused he can be. Especially when properly motivated.

“Or I could put you over my lap. Get you nice and relaxed and just… help get all the tension out. Would you like that? Hm?” Hia hands have drifted back to your ass and he pinches it now to emphasize his point, making you yelp.

You can tell how excited he’s getting both by the way he continues to ramble and by the way he’s started to absentmindedly rut up against you. You don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it because he’s still talking, seemingly completely unaware.

“Maybe we should get a paddle. I’d love to see your ass jiggle when I hit it with a paddle. Fuck, do you have one? Should we get one right now? Or a riding crop. Or- what are those things with all the tassels?”

“Adrian, do you really want to buy a flogger right now? Or do you want to take me to bed?"

“Right, right.” Without warning, he stands and you do your best to cling to him as he makes his way to your bedroom. From this position it’s harder to grind against him, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. You press your lips against the long column of his throat, moving up from his Adam’s apple to kiss behind his ear. You move back down and up again, repeating the action on the other side. He groans, deep and guttural and filthy, and you think it’s the loveliest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Stopstopstop, you’re distracting me!” He huffs, cutely, like he really has the audacity to be annoyed right now.

You grin into his neck, unable to stop yourself from softly nibbling his ear.

He places you down on the bed, crawling over you to kiss down your neck and you arch into him, hands sliding down his chest, toned muscles apparent despite the thick material of his sweatshirt, before reaching his waistband. You move to tug them down, desperate to feel him in your hands but he quickly grabs both your wrists and holds them above your head. He pulls back to look at you, smiling a very different smile now.

You try in vain to tug your wrists free, whining for him to let you go so you can touch him, but the look he fixes you with is enough to shut you up. Slowly, slowly he trails his free hand down your chest and slips it into your shorts, rubbing you over your panties. 

You moan, clamping your thighs around his hand and grinding yourself into his touch, growing more and more desperate by the second. When he finally he relents and releases your hands you're panting, but you waste no time wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your hands in his curls as he returns to your neck, kisses turning to bites.

He rucks your shirt all the way up and you lift so he can finish tugging it over your arms. You shiver, fully exposed to him now and he bends down to take one nipple in his mouth, alternating between gentle bites and sucks while circling the other with his thumb and you sigh dreamily, pushing up into his touch.

Your hand drifts back to the nape of his neck, absently dragging your nails up and down the back of his scalp, dark curls running through your fingers and he groans against your skin. You move for his pants again but he bites your nipple that much harder; a clear warning.

He releases your nipple and you think he's switching to the other one but he instead fixes you with another stern look. His voice is lower this time when he speaks.

“Are you gonna behave, or do I need to tie you up?”

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you, or the whimper that escapes your lips at his words.

As enticing as the offer is, you’re starting to get antsy. You nod your head and mutter your assent and he smirks, seemingly satisfied with your answer. 

The look he gives you this time is much softer but it still makes your blood run hot, makes you feel like the electricity in your nerves is sparking just under your skin. You turn your head to the side and without missing a beat he grabs your chin lightly, guiding your gaze back to him.

Heat rushes up your neck to your cheeks, but you make yourself hold his gaze. His pupils are almost completely blown black now, cheeks ruddy and lips set in a firm line. 

"I care about making you feel good.” The sincerity in his voice floods you with warmth.

“Are you gonna let me?”

You whimper, wishing he’d just go back to kissing you, but you know the question isn’t rhetorical.

“Yes, yes, please Adrian just- please”, you pant, stretching up, wordlessly begging him to kiss you again, to do something, but he doesn't relent. He just holds your gaze while you pout and squirm under him.

“Now, tell me what you want.”

You peer up at him, uncertain of what he means. “I told you, I want you-”

“No, tell me exactly what you want. Be specific. Do you… do you want me to punish you?” His voice quiets a bit at the end.

“No! No, I don’t. I don’t want it to be a punishment. I-I don’t know. I just…  I do want it to hurt but... I more just want to not think, just for a while. Sorry, that’s not what you asked but-”

“No, no that’s good. That’s good.” 

He finally lets go of your wrists and kneads the muscles in your shoulders. The warmth and pressure from his hands soothes your nerves and you sigh and smile up at him.

“Alright, get over my lap then.”

You scramble to obey, already dizzy with anticipation. You feel giddy with it, and despite your nerves you couldn't deny how badly you wanted this– wanted to feel his hands on you, wanted him to make you feel release only the way he could.

You splay yourself over his spread legs, head resting on the pillow you’d grabbed. Now that you’re unable to see what he’s doing, your mind starts to race. Your pulse quickens, and you start to get that familiar floaty feeling you get whenever he takes control and you get to let go.

He puts one hand on the small of your back and with the other he finally, mercifully, tugs at your waistband. You can feel just how hard he's gotten now as he presses into your hip, but he doesn’t move. Adrian isn't much for teasing but he makes no move to touch you, so you wiggle your hips in the hope that it’ll get him to do… something. He presses firmly on your lower back and you huff, but still yourself anyway. He slowly smooths over the muscles in your lower back, pressing deeper and deeper until you relax into his touch. 

He moves lower, gripping the meat of your ass, kneading it softly, and you’re not sure if the gentle touches are genuine or if he’s trying to get you to let your guard down before he starts.

He unceremoniously spreads your legs, dipping his hand between your thighs before ghosting his fingers over your lips. He moves to circle your clit over your underwear and you moan into the pillow, bucking your hips back into his hand, searching for more of whatever he’s willing to give you.

You should’ve known better again, because as soon as you do, his hand comes down squarely against your ass. The pain isn’t so bad, but the sound is enough to make you jump. 

"Oh." he says quietly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I see."

You're not sure exactly what he means by this but you don't have time to think about it too hard before he brings his hand down again, this time on the other cheek. He stops briefly and you move to turn and ask if that's all he intends to do, but you feel another stinging slap before you get the chance.

“You said you wanted it to hurt, right?” You mumble a "yes", high and breathy, into the pillow that’s smushed against your face.

"Then ask me nicely."

Fuck.

"Adrian, please, please, fucking- just - harder please."

The pace he sets now is unrelenting. You pretty quickly become aware of the fact that he's making sure there's no pattern for you to predict and the thought makes you even giddier.

One smack, and then another, the stinging pain hovering just on the edge of too much, dulling all of your other senses. You start to get that familiar hazy feeling, and you relax into it, welcome it, will it to take you over completely.

Left, left, left, right, left again, one sharp, followed by a few open handed ones to your thigh in quick succession. All the while he's rubbing small, tight circles against your clit with his other hand.

His fingers move to tease your entrance, rubbing small circles into you and like the slaps he's doling out they seem to have no predictable rhythm.

"I think… this is really unlocking something in me," he mutters, more to himself than to you. 

You’d been so focused on what he was doing that you only now realize how embarrassingly loud your moans had been, but his comment draws something out of you. You’re whining and writhing against him, not even trying to look dignified at this point, the sensation verging on overwhelming but so so good.

Suddenly it’s gone, and you whine in protest. For a moment everything is still, and you realize for the first time how quickly your heart is beating.

“Still okay?”

You don’t think you can form words right now, but you groan an affirmative, hoping it gets your message across. Adrian gently tilts your chin so he can look into your eyes and confirm. “Yes?” he questions, and your heart warms at the way he asks, at the way he always wants to be certain. The way he's biting his lip also tells you you’re not the only one who's enjoying this.

You exhale sharply, forcing your brain and mouth to actually form words, making sure your "yes" is clear. He nods once in return and releases your chin, and you sigh as you sink into the pillow again. Once you're comfortable, he starts again.

"Good girl. Keep being good for me.”

The sharp stinging pain and the dull thudding of his open palm are starting to run together, all becoming one sensation. He grips the fat of your ass again with one hand, releases it and brings the other hand down. He repeats this a few more times; squeezing, releasing and then bringing his hand down quickly before the blood has the chance to rush back under your skin, gauging your reactions each time, cataloging every whimper, moan and twitch, every shudder, flinch and squeal and rewarding each in kind.

“You like that? You like it when I hurt you like this? You like my fingers rubbing your pretty little clit like this?”

With this he runs his fingers back through the slick between your legs, teasing a finger against your opening.

"Jesus, fuck, look at you. Is this all for me? Yeah? Answer me." You can’t help but whine at that, telling him "Yes, yes it's all for you, all for you Adrian!" hiccuping and helpless to do anything but feel him.

He continues, “I think I know what you want, but you know you have to use your words,” he chides. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes! Pleasepleaseplease” You’re nearly sobbing now, tears you hadn't even noticed before falling freely now.

“I think I have something you’ll like even better,” he says, and your heart leaps at the thought of what he could possibly have in mind. You move to turn to him, but a firm hand on your back keep you in place.

He draws his hand back and you brace yourself for the inevitable impact, but it doesn't come. You huff, knowing full well he's absolutely got the shittiest grin on his face but you refuse to turn around this time, refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing your annoyance. So the two of you just sit there, momentarily suspended, at the world’s tensest, horniest impasse. You, over his lap, your panties hanging off of your ankle, and him, with presumably one hand raised in the air and one tracing faint shapes into the skin of your inner thighs.

"You," he starts, taking a deliberate breathe like he's trying to compose himself, trying to stave off the arousal he's thus far been able to keep at bay. He’s still got his pants on, and the combination of that and you writhing and moaning on top of him is starting to become unbearable.

"You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

He sounds dangerous now, voice too measured and now the tension is really starting to get to you.

He’s moving on the bed, doing his best to not jostle you too much but you can still feel his hips and cock shift under you as he reaches over to the drawer on your side of the bed. 

You hear him rifling through it, various objects clattering as he tosses them around. You use this time to ground yourself, taking a few deep breaths but they do little to stop the way your blood is still rushing under your skin. You have an idea of what he’s looking for, but you don’t dare turn around to confirm your suspicions. 

Finally, the rustling stops and he chuckles triumphantly.

He’s quiet again. Suspiciously, unnervingly quiet. Adrian is so rarely quiet that when he is it's noticeable. He’s still lazily running his fingers between your thighs, purposefully avoiding your clit this time, despite the insistent roll of your hips. Like he’s got all the time in the fucking world.

You hear the telltale buzz of the Magic Wand behind you, but he doesn’t give you time to register it before he pushes the head right up against your clit. You cry out, the sensation immediately far too intense, but despite your struggle he continues to firmly hold you in place. You whine pathetically, the pressure and vibration too much too soon, and he eases up just a little so the vibrations are still strong, but not so overwhelming.

You keep squirming, you can’t help it, and he moves the toy from your clit. This time you chase it, now desperate for stimulation and he chuckles above you and spanks your ass again.

“Fuck!” You cry out, burying your face into the pillow again. You know how you probably look, completely fucked out, tears splilling freely from your eyes now as you sob ugly and way too loud sobs, but you can't think about that right now. You were close, so so close. You just needed that extra little push.

“You’re doing so well baby. Can you take a few more?” and he asks so sweetly you can't even think about saying no.

Adrian returns to rubbing the small of your back, his voice a little softer now. He knows the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, and he always knows how to get you over the edge.

You gasped an “uh-huh”, arching into his touch and this time he allows it and repositions the toy directly against your clit again. Despite his softer tone, his hand comes down again just as hard and unrelenting as before and you’re honestly glad he isn’t going softer now that he knows you’re close.

He turns the vibration up a little more and the extra stimulation is exactly what you need. You feel your body seize momentarily as you clench and shake and for a split second everything feels still before your orgasm crests and breaks over you. 

You hold onto that feeling for as long as you can, letting the wave break and settle and feeling your brain go blissfully hazy.

You feel floaty, your body feeling absolutely spent, wrung out completely and everything in that moment feels so perfect.

Adrian slowly ghost gentle touches over your back and down over your ass and thighs. You feel something cool and sigh contentedly as he rubs lotion into your stinging flesh.

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in the feeling of his gentle touch and the sweet praises he mumbles.

He knows you sometimes get a little dizzy and fucked out after you cum, (loves it, really) so he waits for you to gather yourself. Once he finishes you roll onto your stomach.

You wouldn't blame him for being self satisfied or even cocky in this moment, but the smile he wears now is anything but. It's just warm and sweet, like him. 

He grabs one of the small hand towels you keep in the bedside drawers and gently wipes you down, knowing how much you hate the feeling of sweat on your skin after and helps you pull a fresh pair of underwear and one of his oversized shirts on as you settle into his lap.

“Was it.. was it good for you? Was it too hard?” You hear the little bit of worry start to creep into his voice and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no not at all. It was perfect Adj. You know I would’ve stopped you if something was wrong.”

He visibly relaxes at this, and resumes running his fingers over your tender flesh, humming softly.

It’s quiet, and for a while the only sound you’re aware of is your breathing. When he speaks again, it’s like he’s already in the middle of a thought.

“But seriously. Whatever you need, you know I’m happy to do it for you. And you know how much I love taking care of you. I just always want to make sure I make you feel good, you know?”

You smile at his confession. “Yeah, I know. And thank you. Seriously."

You clear your throat. “It's just nice to have someone who cares, you know?”

He hums thoughtfully, still rubbing your skin gently.

"I know you care about me as a person, and I'm not saying you're the only one who does. I meant more, it's nice to have someone who cares about making me feel good. Not to say that other people were just using me for sex but… with you it's just,” you go quiet again. “It’s just different."

“So thank you. For… this. For not being weirded out by it, I mean. And for doing it, of course.”

You sit up so you can look him in the eye now and he pulls you into him fully, arms tight and secure. The last thing you're aware of before you drift off this time is his scent as he kisses your temple.

#adrian #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x you #adrian chase smut #adrian chase fic #adrian chase imagine #vigilante smut #Vigilante #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #m.txt #fics #writing #m.writing #adrian chase x black!reader #anyway if you saw me delete and repost this no you didn't #adrian chase

[ryrywrites]

Key: *(ns): no smut

ₘᵢₗₒ ₘₐₙₕₑᵢₘ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Wally Clark

➡ Zed Necrodopolis

➡ Ben Plunkett

➡ Nico (Doogie Kamealoha)

Cᵣᵢₘᵢₙₐₗ ₘᵢₙdₛ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Dr. Spencer Reid

➡ Emily Prentiss

➡ Jennifer Jareau

➡ Derek Morgan

➡ Aaron Hotchner

➡ Luke Alvez

➡ Matthew Simmons

ₛₐₘ Wᵢₙcₕₑₛₜₑᵣ & Dₑₐₙ Wᵢₙcₕₑₛₜₑᵣ

➡ One-Shots

➡ Drabbles

➡ Headcanons: Sam

➡ Headcanons: Dean

ₘₐᵣᵥₑₗ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Peter Parker *(ns)

➡ Steve Rogers

➡ Bucky Barnes

➡ Thor Odinson

➡ Natasha Romanoff

➡ Scott Lang

➡ Sam Wilson

➡ Wanda Maximoff

➡ Pietro Maximoff

➡ Peter Quill

➡ Dr. Stephen Strange

➡ Ned Leeds *(ns)

➡ MJ Jones-Watson *(ns)

ₕₐᵣᵣy ₚₒₜₜₑᵣ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Hermione Granger

➡ Harry Potter

➡ Ron Weasley

➡ Draco Malfoy

➡ Luna Lovegood

➡ Neville Longbottom

➡ Cedric Diggory

➡ Ginny Weasley

➡ Fred Weasley

➡ George Weasley

➡ Oliver Wood

ₜₑₑₙ Wₒₗf cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ *(ns)

➡ Scott McCall

➡ Stiles Stilinski

➡ Allison Argent

➡ Lydia Martin

➡ Derek Hale

➡ Isaac Lahey

➡ Malia Tate

➡ Theo Raeken

➡ Liam Dunbar

➡ Kira Yukimura

ₜᵥD & ₜₒ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Damon Salvatore

➡ Stefan Salvatore

➡ Elena Gilbert

➡ Caroline Forbes

➡ Bonnie Bennett

➡ Jeremy Gilbert *(ns)

➡ Katherine Pierce

➡ Niklaus Mikaelson

➡ Elijah Mikaelson

➡ Rebecca Mikaelson

➡ Enzo St. John

➡ Kai Parker

➡ Alaric Saltzman

➡ Hayley Marshall

➡ Kol Mikaelson

➡ Finn Mikaelson

➡ Freya Mikaelson

➡ Davina Claire

➡ Marcel Gerard

ⱼₐcₖ Cₕₐₘₚᵢₒₙ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Miles "Spider" Socorro *(ns)

➡ Ethan Landry

➡ Dwight Schrute

➡ Jim Halpert

➡ Pam Beesley

Kinktober '23

#ethan landry x reader #spencer reid x reader #emily prentiss x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #derek morgan x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #peter quill x reader #steve rogers x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #thor odison x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #harry potter x reader #ron weasley x reader #cedric diggory x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #draco malfoy x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader #jeremy gilbert x reader #damon salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #klaus mikealson x reader #milo manheim #tom holland #nathan drake x reader

[harrypotter-imaginees]

You sneaking into Oliver's dorm and cuddle into him

He wouldn’t realize that you’re in his room until the next morning

You would lay on his chest

He would mumble „Good morning angle“ into your hair

He would rub your back or play with your hair

„Sorry for waking you up“

Tagging: @bellatheslytherclaw @heyitsreece44 @mela1648 @kbakery @sanaz1dlol @savagejane1 @onceuponaoneshot @feuillemory @silverose365 @whoslunaaa @deafhufflepuff4300

#hp imagine #hp #harry potter imagine #harry potter #oliver wood smut #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood fluff #oliver wood headcanon #oliver wood x you #oliver wood one shot #oliver wood x reader #Oliver Wood #cute #cute things wood does #cute things Oliver does

[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.”

#request ❤️ #oliver wood #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood imagines #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood fanfic #oliver wood drabble #oliver wood fluff #oliver wood x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

[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!

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[ereardon]

Golden Hour || Ch. 7

[Bob Floyd x Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

A Bob Floyd & Bradley Bradshaw AU [Hart of Dixie inspired]

Synopsis: Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x OC; Bradley Bradshaw x OC

Tropes: Love triangle, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Alcohol, angst, cursing

Chapter summary: Olive spends Thanksgiving with the Bradshaws; Olive and Bradley's relationship takes a turn

WC: 2K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“Dr. James, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?” 

You swiveled around in your chair. Molly stood at the door, holding an armful of supplies to replenish the cabinet to your right. “I’m not sure,” you replied. “Why?” 

“I was hoping we’d be closed,” she said, unloading the bandages into the cabinet. “My boyfriend and I are supposed to visit his parents down in Marietta.” 

“You can have it off either way,” you replied and Molly grinned. 

“So you call the shots now?” Bob stood in the doorway of your office, wearing a sweater with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of khakis and brown dress shoes. 

You rolled your eyes. “Give the girl the day off, Floyd.” 

“We’re closed on Thanksgiving, Molly,” he said and she stood up, smiling. 

“Thank you!” She tossed her arms around Bob as he stood solid like a statue in the doorframe, before scampering down the hallway. 

You leaned back in your chair with a smirk. “Softie.” 

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” 

“Don’t have any,” you replied. “Unless you’re inviting me over.” 

Bob looked startled. “I, uh—”

You laughed but it was dry. “Don’t worry, Floyd, I’m not inviting myself over. I have more tact than that.” You stood up, smoothing your short skirt. “I won’t impose. Sure I’ll be able to find something to do.” 

Bob’s gaze hardened. “I’m sure Bradshaw would have you over.” 

“Bradley?” You shook your head. “I’m sure he has plans.” 

Bob nodded. “Bradshaw family Thanksgiving is legendary. I’ve been a few times. His parents do a catered dinner.” 

“Maybe I’ll ask him.” 

Bob lingered. There was something about the way he wasn’t moving, as if words were stuck in his throat, thick like gravy on a biscuit. 

You cocked your head to one side. “Something else I can help you with?” 

His blue eyes turned to you. “No.” He pivoted on one heel, heading down the hallway, the soft clack of his dress shoes on the wood floor fading into the distance. You frowned before picking up the phone and pressing Bradley’s contact. 

“Hey, it’s me,” you said into the speaker. “Listen, about Thanksgiving.” 

***

“Mothers don’t like me,” you whispered as you and Bradley made your way up the steps toward the stone mansion on the end of the road. “Just a warning.” 

Bradley chuckled. “I doubt that, Doc. What’s not to like?” 

You shrugged. “I say too much or I say too little. And when I do talk it’s about medicine. I’m too competitive. I can’t cook. I curse. I wear too short of skirts.” You adjusted your skirt over the thin tights and cursed yourself for wearing a pair of stilettos. The Bradshaws were going to think you were a prostitute. 

“My mother likes no one and pretends to like everyone,” Bradley replied. “Besides, it’s a party, Doc. Not some intimate dinner. You’ll be able to blend in with the crowd, I promise.” 

“If you leave me alone for more than five minutes I’m going to get blackout drunk,” you warned. 

Bradley laughed, reaching out and ringing the doorbell. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” The large wood door swung open. “Mother,” he said. 

“Bradley, dear.” She was small, so thin beneath her sweater set, and Bradley had to stoop down to kiss her on the cheek. She held her arms out to you. “And you must be Olivia.” 

“Olive,” Bradley corrected. “Dr. James.” 

“Ooh, doctor?” His mother raised her plucked eyebrows. 

You smiled. “Olive is fine. Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Bradshaw.” 

“Carole,” she replied. “Come in.” 

The Bradshaws had more money than half of Georgia from the looks of it. A soaring two-story foyer with a curved staircase that crawled up one wall, checkered black and white tile floors in the entryway, an enormous wooden paneled library to your left. The house was warm and smelled like Baccarat Rouge and echoed with voices and Southern accents. You raised your eyebrows at Bradley. “You’re Southern royalty, aren’t you?” 

He blushed, hard. “No.” 

“Come on.” You grabbed his arm. “Spill.” 

“My father was the governor,” he confessed and your eyes went wide, like saucers. “There he is.” Bradley tipped his head toward the seven-foot tall fireplace against one wall where a group of men were laughing. You spotted him immediately. Tall, muscular, mustache that rivaled Tom Selleck’s. He was handsome as hell. A part of you did the mental math and realized that Bradley would age well. 

Very well. 

“Come on,” Bradley said, moving toward the center of the room. “I need a drink.” 

Against one wall, there was a makeshift bar. “Wine, please,” you said. 

“What type of wine?” the bartender asked. “We have Sauvignon Blanc, Merlot, Pinot from the Loire—”

You cut him off with a thick sob. “Oh my God. Real wine.” 

Bradley practically snorted. “Yes, Olive, outside of Willow there actually does exist wine where the label doesn’t just say white box or red.” 

You shook your head with elation. “Sancerre, please.” 

“And you, sir?” 

“Manhattan, no rocks.” 

You leaned against the bar and surveyed the room. It was tastefully decorated. Now you knew why Bradley’s house was so well done. “You could have warned me,” you whispered. 

“And said what?”

“I don’t know, that you’re Mr. Georgia?” 

Bradley laughed, a throaty chuckle, one hand finding the small of your back, leading you deeper into the room. Clumps of well dressed people stood in packs scattered throughout the large expanse of the living room. “Sometimes I forget that you don’t know things, Olive. Everyone in Willow knows everything about each other. It’s hard to remember that you’re starting from a blank slate.” 

“What else am I missing?” you asked. 

“Well, that’s my brother, Jordan.” Bradley pointed to a tall, dark and handsome man holding hands with a slim brunette. “And his wife Jodi. And their son James is somewhere. Probably praying pranks on the dog.” You grinned. “If you go upstairs and turn left and open the fourth door on the right you’ll see an embarrassing amount of trophies from little league.” 

“I know where I’m sneaking off to after dinner,” you teased. 

“I’ll meet you up there.” You swatted Bradley’s arm with your free hand and he laughed. A shadow appeared in front of the two of you. 

“Son.” 

“Dad.” Bradley was a full inch shorter than his father, and that was a feat. “This is Dr. Olive James.” 

“Just Olive is fine,” you said, holding out a hand. “Very nice to meet you, sir.” 

He grinned, shaking your hand tightly. His grip was a vice. “Nick Bradshaw. Friends call me Goose.” 

“Goose?” 

“Don’t ask,” Bradley whispered. 

“Best shot in the state,” Nick said, dropping your hand. “You a hunter, Doctor?” 

“Does looking for deals in Soho count?” The joke fell flat on Nick, who had a stony look in his eye. “Sorry, no. Never been.” 

“You’ll have to join us sometime,” he said. “Bradley, invite her to the lake house. We’re going next week.” 

“You don’t have to,” Bradley whispered. 

You smiled. “That’s very nice, thank you.” 

Goose tipped his head. “My son here really under sold how pretty you were. In a town like Willow I’m sure you’re turning heads.” 

You blushed and Bradley shook his head. “Dad, come on. Let her at least finish her drink before you turn on the charm.” 

Goose grinned. “Can’t help it, son.” 

“It’s flattering,” you replied. “But I only came to Willow a few months ago. Still adjusting.” 

“What’s there to adjust to?” A voice to your right entered and you turned, Bradley’s brother Jordan joining the circle. His eyes leered over you. “Nothing in Willow but two sticks to rub together.” 

“Olive,” Bradley said, his voice icing over. “This is my brother Jordan. Jordan, this is Dr. Olive James.” 

“Doctor?” Jordan raised his thick eyebrows. “How come there were never any docs like you when I have to go to my checkups?” 

“OK, we’re leaving,” Bradley said, putting one hand on your back and steering you toward the patio doors at the back of the room. The two of you spilled out onto the paved patio that overlooked a manicured garden not unlike Versailles. “Sorry about him, he’s a dick.” 

You laughed. “That’s OK. I understand.” 

“Do you have siblings?” 

“No.” You paused. “But my fiancé did.”

“Fiancé?” Bradley went pale. 

“Sorry, ex-fiance,” you clarified. 

“You’ve never mentioned.” 

“He cheated and I left. Not much to say,” you replied. 

“I’m sorry.” Bradley paused. “Is that why you left New York?” 

You nodded. “We worked together.” 

“Oh.” He was quiet for a moment. Then, “Sounds like a real dick.” 

You laughed, the sound chiming out into the quiet evening. “Not wrong.” 

“Did you love him?” he asked. 

You frowned. “Yes. But I don’t know if I was ever in love with him. Not the way that I should have been. I was just too caught up in everything to realize it.” 

Bradley stepped closer, pressing one hand to your cheek. “I like you, Olive. A lot. And I know you said you weren’t looking to start anything, but—”

“I like you, too, Bradley,” you interrupted, the heat of his hand cupping your skin warming you from the outside in. 

He smiled, bending down, pressing his lips to yours softly. You closed your eyes, letting Bradley flood your senses. 

When the two of you broke apart, you grinned, sliding one hand up into his curls, pulling him back down, sealing your lips over his. Bradley’s large hands wound around your waist, tugging you in close, pressing your body to his. 

“Let’s blow off dinner,” he whispered. 

“But it’s Thanksgiving,” you replied. “Won’t your family care if we ditch them?” 

“I don’t care,” Bradley murmured. “I want you all to myself.” 

“Bradshaw,” you said quietly, “are you hitting on me?” 

“You bet your sweet ass I am.” 

“OK, let’s go.” 

Back at Bradley’s house, you slipped off your heels as Bradley poured two glasses of wine. You heard him mutter and curse under his breath. 

“Everything OK?” you called out. 

“Yeah, fine,” he shouted back. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

You wandered down the hallway to Bradley’s bedroom, edging open the door. It was familiar, from the night after the Halloween party. The room was blanketed in darkness and you strolled over to the window, glass of wine in one hand, spreading the curtains, letting the moonlight flood in. 

Across the yard, Bob stood at his window, illuminated lightly and golden from a lamp behind him. You raised your hand in a wave and so did he. Opening the window, you perched on the sill. “Hey.” 

Bob opened his window, leaning his head out to his shoulders. “Hi.” 

You frowned. “This was your big Thanksgiving plan? Standing at the window looking forlorn?”

He shook his head. “I had dinner with my father, but I left early. He was tired.” 

“Oh.” You paused. “How, um, how is he doing?” 

“Not too well,” Bob replied softly.

“I’m sorry to hear that. He’s very sweet.” 

Bob looked up. “Weren’t you at the Bradshaw’s party?” he asked. 

“Yeah, we were, but.” You trailed off, taking a sip of wine to fill the silence. 

Bob’s eyes went wide with realization. “Oh.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said but you weren’t sure why. It just felt like the right thing to say. 

“Why are you sorry?” he asked quietly. 

“I don’t know.” In the distance, you heard footsteps. “I should go.” 

Bob nodded. “Goodnight, Olive.” 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” you replied softly, shifting off of the window sill, feet landing on the floor with a soft thump. You closed the window gently, and Bob mirrored your actions across the narrow garden. 

“Doc?” Bradley’s voice carried through the open door. You turned and smiled. 

“Hi,” you whispered. 

He stepped in closer, winding one arm around your waist. “So. Where did we leave off?” 

“I think somewhere around here,” you replied, leaning forward, pressing your lips to his. Bradley’s other arm found the back of your head, supporting you as he tipped you backward in a kiss, one of your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, your fingertips gripping his biceps. 

In the heat of it all, you forgot to pull the curtains shut. 

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