Imagine being in a fake relationship with Oliver Wood.
“Why are we doing this again?” Oliver asked you in a low tone. A lot of eyes in the Great Hall were focused on the fact that you and he were holding hands. His fingers were calloused from holding his broom so tight while he played Quidditch, though it wasn’t an altogether bad feeling.
“You want kudos with my dad, and I want guys to leave me alone,” You whispered back. Your father worked as a manager for the Quidditch World Cup, and had a lot of pull with different teams. A good word from him could get Oliver a tryout.
“Right, yeah,” Oliver said, still surprised by this whole arrangement. He lead you to the Gryffindor table where the two of you had already planned to have breakfast, having talked it over the night before through owl mail.
“Way to go Olly!” One of the Weasley twins, you never could tell which, popped his head in.
“Yeah, you’ve only been wanting this for three years,” Angelina Johnson said with a snort. She passed you a rack of toast, and you hesitantly took one, smiling awkwardly. This was news to you.
“Relax, relax!” The other Weasley twin said, putting his arms around the both of you from behind. “If they want to hook up behind our backs, that’s their business!”
“That’s not what-” Oliver started.
“I can’t believe-” You said at the same time. You both quieted down, and there was laughter at the tables. This was going to be a long couple of months, but you were excited nonetheless.
Imagine Oliver Wood trying to study but he can’t get you off his mind.
“Godric Gryffindor was the original owner of the sorting hat,” Oliver whispered to himself as he wrote it down in his study notes. After that, his attention dropped off, and he started to draw little broomsticks flying about in the margins. And then - as what usually happens when he doesn’t have something taking over his brain, he started to think about you.
“Not sure if y/n’s eye color is going to be on your exams, mate.” Fred Weasley said, sitting on one side of Oliver, while George sat on the other.
“Good likeness though.” George said, poking at the doodle with his wand. Oliver hadn’t even realized that he went from broomsticks to you. The enchanted paper had you blinking. He’d looked into your eyes enough to have memorized how they looked, and could draw them near perfectly.
“Piss off.” Oliver said, getting mad at himself. “I need to concentrate.”
“Yeah, tell that to your doodles.” George chuckled. “Don’t forget to start your essay with ‘Y/n was born on...”
“Git.” Oliver said, leaning back, giving up on his notes for now. Since your name had been said aloud, there was no way he’d be able to stick to History of Magic.
I’m Not Afraid to Let Go {Oliver Wood x Reader Oneshot}
Requested by: Anonymous
Wordcount: 2443
Summary: Based on this imagine [x]. Oliver Wood can’t get you off his mind so takes a stroll to his favorite place, the Quidditch pitch. It isn’t as empty as he had assumed it would be.
You were on Oliver’s mind - though this was nothing new to the burly seventh year. You had been on his mind since he first started to notice you in the third year, when the two of you were paired on a Potions assignment together and he finally realized that there were things outside of the Quidditch pitch that interested him. It was the start of a new world inside Oliver’s brain, but he never actually brought it to life in reality, preferring to just admire you from the shadows than to approach you. You didn’t approach him either, though he could have sworn that you two made eye contact at least once a day, and then one of you would end up breaking it off and return to real life. The eye contact wasn’t enough for him to be satisfied, unfortunately, so he had taken to doodling you on spare bits of parchment, or in his notes when he found a lecture to be particularly dull - such as this one, in History of Magic.
There, on this unfortunate day, he was berated by a Weasley twin when he came across his notes in the Common Room, when Wood was settling into an armchair after a long day’s lessons. You weren’t in the common room for that - thank goodness. It would have been too much for him were that to happen.
“You did a good likeness, I didn’t know you were into drawing, Wood.” One of his Beaters said - he still couldn’t tell one apart from the other. The other twin popped his head up behind the other and caught sight of the drawing before he could slip it into his textbook. “You in love there, Wood? Looks like you might be swooning.” He joked.
There was too much attention on him now, as Angelina Johnson started to head over to see what her Quidditch mates were talking about. Oliver stood up, shoving the drawing that he had done of your eyes into his History of Magic textbook, which he threw haphazardly into his bag which was still crossed over his shoulder. “I need some air,” He said, pushing past Fred and George to go out the portrait.
Oliver finally felt that he could take a deep breath once he was away from the commotion. You had been on his mind too much, it was starting to become obvious to the people around him. That wasn’t good. You were becoming a distraction during lessons, how long until you became one during his original love - Quidditch? Intrigued by the thought of the game that popped up, Oliver thought that he would go for a walk to the pitch just to see it at night, with the golden hoops being lit up with only the moon and starlight. He did this often, and knew the path off by heart.
He approached the dark field and breathed in the fresh air, scented with the pine trees that were not too far off. It was Oliver’s happy place, apart from being at the stadium where they held the World Cup. Though, the Hogwarts one was a bit more special because he actually played here. He leaned against the middle hoop, looking up at the stars that were shining above. He didn’t take astronomy so he didn’t know the different constellations but he could imagine flying high enough to pluck one of the stars out of the sky. He didn’t know what he’d do with one if he were to catch it, but it would probably have something to do with you, as most of his fantasies have.
Just as he was going to venture to the middle of the pitch, something dark in the sky caught his eye. His first thought was that it was just an owl, heading to the owlry to take it’s perch after a late delivery, but it seemed to have a flight pattern rather than just headed in one direction. Oliver saw the shape zig zag and quickly figured out that it was a rider, having the same idea that he did but having brought their broom instead.
You were the one that was flying around, Oliver could see that as you came in closer to the ground. You were a good twenty feet above it, just gliding around. He didn’t need Lumos to see how large your smile was from here. He took a couple of steps backwards, to the more shady area of the Quidditch Pitch, so that you wouldn’t catch on that he was watching you.
The broom was an older one, one of the Cleansweeps, but you handled it well despite it’s age. You were a good flyer, he had to admit that, and now he was wondering why you never tried out for the Quidditch team. You could easily have made it as a Chaser with the way that you were moving, and pushed one of the girls out. He admired you, not being able to stop, especially with the way that you were effortless in the air. Your talent was showing, and he knew that were he up there attempting to stop the Quaffle from getting past him, he would have been very distracted by you. It was for the best that you didn’t try for the team, he supposed, though it would have been a way to get closer to you.
“Huh,” He said quietly to himself, crossing his arms in front of the black jumper he was wearing. Trying not to fall harder for you was very difficult, and he had to admit to himself that he was a bit turned on, seeing you fly like that.
He then noticed that things started to go very wrong, very fast. The broom started to buck, bringing flashbacks of the time that Harry Potter, in his first year, had been cursed by Professor Quirrel and his broom had tried to knock him off. It managed to get you off of it, but you weren’t falling, not yet. Your fingers were tight around the stick, holding on as it continued to fly around. Before Wood could rush forward and do the counter-curse, he saw four cloaked Slytherins on the other side of the pitch, cheering and laughing at your misfortune. You were gritting your teeth and holding on, knowing that if you let go from this height, you’d definitely break a bone.
So, Oliver knew that he had to do something to help. The Slytherins were shooting off fireworks in your direction, highlighting where you were trying to avoid them. You were hanging on with all of your strength, but your fingers were slipping - he could see that from there. “If I get my hands on those wankers-” He muttered as he jogged in your direction. “Make them pay, big time.”
There, under your shadow against the dark emerald grass, he managed to catch your attention. It was a shame that he hadn’t brought his wand - he would have conjured up a cot to catch you but all that he had to offer was himself. You looked down and smiled wearily, then turned your attention back to the bullies so they wouldn’t see you looking at him. Your fingers were getting blistered, and it was starting to get painful. You were slipping, and fast.
“You think I’m afraid of you?” You shouted to the Slytherins, who paused in place, not expecting you to say anything. You fixed your grip upon the broom and made it swerve towards Oliver’s direction, going a little lower but still staying above fifteen feet. “I am NOT afraid to let go!”
Your fingers released the wooden handle of the broomstick, but they stayed curled due to being stiff from hanging on for so long. For a minute, you were free falling. Oliver was under you, with his knees slightly bent, bracing for the impact of your weight against him. You landed in his outstretched arms, strong from the constant working out that he did to keep in shape for Quidditch. You weren’t exactly a feather, so though Oliver braced, he did stumble just a little but managed to keep on his feet.
It took a couple of seconds for him to realize that he really was holding you, an in a style that mimicked a husband carrying his wife across the threshold of their home for the first time. Neither of you seemed to be in a hurry to get out of that position either, though he did eventually let you down onto your feet once the Slytherins could be heard talking amongst themselves. “Where’d y/n go?” They repeated, lighting the tips of their wands to look about the pitch.
Oliver grabbed your shoulders lightly. “It is quicker this way, come on.”
At his request, you followed him off to the side of pitch, and then hid behind the Staff bleachers. “Alright, we should stay here for a couple of minutes.” You breathed out. “Thank you for back there.”
“You alright?” Oliver asked, after he caught his own breath. His ears caught the sound of your broom falling onto the ground, finally, now that there was no longer a curse on it. This brought the Slytherins running to that spot, thinking that perhaps you would be there, but it turned up empty.
“I’m alright,” You whispered to him. “Thanks to you. They do this to me every couple of weeks.”
“I heard something over there-” The Slytherins were heard saying and shuffled over to where the two of you were hiding. First, you put your hand to cover Oliver’s mouth so he wouldn’t say anything, then the two of you jumped down so you were under the Quidditch pitch, along the wooden slats that held up the spectator stands. Once you two were down there, you crouched under some of the thicker boards in case they decided to have a look.
“Would you just shut up?” One of the Slytherins was saying to the others. “How do we know they didn’t just apparate? We gotta go before the teachers come looking for us, because you dummies lit up the whole pitch with your wands!”
At first Oliver wanted to laugh, because it had always been an obvious thing that there was no apparation on school grounds. That was until he realized that yes - a teacher would definitely be coming and they would get in trouble for being on the field after dark. Nothing good would come of that.
There was some commotion as they started to head towards the castle, which meant passing right by where you two were hiding. Oliver held you close to him, trying to hide you under his arm essentially, which made you laugh - though thankfully that was stiffled by the thick fabric of his jumper. You managed to hold in any more until the sounds of the Slytherins had passed, and now it was only the sounds of the owls going for their nightly hunts around the grounds to find mice and other small rodents.
Oliver released you slowly, and the two of you climbed out of the inside of the Quidditch pitch and back into the fresh, open air. You stretched, brought your wand out of your boot, and accio’d your broom back towards you. The Slytherins hadn’t tampered with it, luckily for them, or you would have rode to find them and curse them before they got back into the castle.
“You saved me back there, thank you.” You said, smiling over at Oliver as he looked around to see if any of the Professors were coming. The coast was clear, it was only the two of you out tonight.
“Brave of ye, letting go of the broom like that. You were rather high up,” Oliver said, his Scottish lilt coming in strong. He rarely talked to you face to face like this, outside of a classroom setting. He was feeling a bit nervous, on top of his heart beating quickly from the adrenaline.
“I wasn’t afraid, I trust you.” You said, starting on the path towards the castle, with Oliver following you. Both of you remained as quiet as you could while sneaking back inside the castle, and up to the Gryffindor Tower. The Staircases were being particularly helpful tonight, taking you straight up to the right floor without changing places a hundred times. They were always slower at night, as if they were tired themselves. You were the one who whispered the password to the purse-lipped Fat Lady, and entered first into the warm fire-lit common room. There were still quite a few people in there, studying or talking to their friends, or playing a game of Wizard’s Chess like the Weasley twins were. Their eyes scanned over your faces, then looked away, assuming that Wood was just lecturing you on Quidditch like he did with everyone else.
“But you’re alright?” Oliver asked, now that you didn’t have to keep your voices low. “Does that happen very often?”
“Once in a while, but usually they don’t manage to hit the broom. They got lucky.” You scowled. “I’ll get em back for this, I usually do. It’s the same group.”
“Do you want some help?” Oliver surprised himself by asking. Pranking and mischief was much more of a Weasley Twins sort of thing to do, not at all his style, but he was eager to get back at someone who had tried to hurt you. You were special, in this case.
“I got it.” You smiled. You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, close to the corner of his lips, sending a blush throughout his cheeks and down his neck. “Next time we should fly together, bit safer, yeah?”
Before Oliver could stutter out an answer, you walked swiftly to the staircase and ascended up to your Dormitory to retire for the night. He stood there watching your back, and his trembling fingers touched his warm cheek where you had just been.
“Three cheers for Wood!” Fred Weasley announced loudly, using his wand to light some sparks around the Common Room, gathering everyone’s attention. He and George were smiling wide grins, having seen what had just happened between you and Oliver. The other Gryffindors were unclear what they were cheering for, but did nonetheless, bringing even more of a flush on Oliver’s cheeks than before.
Imagine showing Oliver Wood the art you had done during the Summer.
When you saw Oliver come into the compartment, you stood up on your tiptoes and hugged him immediately. Beneath the jumper and trousers that he was wearing, you could feel the muscles that his summer Quidditch training had sculpted onto his body, and you smelled the fresh pine scent that came from the oils he used on his broomstick. The very sense of Oliver Wood was in that smell.
“Sorry I didn’t get ter see ya much.” Oliver said, returning the hug, pressing a kiss onto your neck. You’d been waiting for that since you walked off the Hogwarts Express together months ago. “Training was brutal, but worth it.”
“I’m glad you had fun.” You grinned, and let go of him. He sat beside you in anticipation that some of your friends would probably be joining and sit across from the two of you. “I was pretty busy as well.”
“With what?” He asked.
You rustled through your rucksack and brought out the sketchbook that you had filled during the Summer months. Going all of those weeks without seeing Oliver had driven you a little stircrazy, not to mention lonely. “This.” You told him as you passed it into his hands. You chewed on your bottom lip, looking for any reaction in his face as he started to go through the pages, seeing himself, flowers, the neighbor’s dog, more of himself, the little girl who lived down the street, two self-portraits and different variations on the Gryffindor lion.
“Wow.” He smiled, passing it back. “Impressive. You’ve been hiding one of your talents from me.”
“I’ll make it up to you, somehow.” You said, shyly. Both of you had blushing faces by the time that Alicia Johnson and Katie Bell came into the compartment and gave the both of you knowing looks.
I like you // I love you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I want you to like me // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re nice // You’re mean // I’m envious of you // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better
