i am sick, so i wrote sick!percy to comfort myself. i’ve never written perciver before (although i love then very much), so apologies in advance for ooc!!
Percy grumbles as Oliver pushes him down onto his bed by his shoulders.
“I’m,” a cough, “fine,” he protests.
Oliver raises a disbelieving eyebrow at Percy, where he is now leaned against the bed’s headboard, arms crossed as he glares at Oliver. His cheeks are flushed and a drop of sweat is sliding down his forehead; his nose is red from blowing it too roughly.
Still, all Oliver can think of while looking at his expression, now drawn into a pout he’d never normally let escape him, is cute.
Percy lets out another cough that shakes Oliver out of his stupor.
“You’re clearly not fine,” he responds, trying to pull the covers over Percy, who is fighting him every step of the way. “You nearly keeled over on our way outta Transfiguration.”
“I did not! I just… stood up too quickly.”
He sneezes.
Oliver sighs.
“Just rest, ‘kay? Exams are finished. We won’t be doing anything important in class anyways.”
Percy makes an offended noise.
“Not important!? What if Professor Snape changes his mind, and decides he does want to teach us how to brew—“.
Oliver cuts him off there— he knows he’ll make up a thousand scenarios that’ll get increasingly more unrealistic if he lets him continue.
“If he does, which he won’t because he’s Snape, and he never changes his mind, I’m sure Penny will be willing to lend you her notes. I’ll take notes for you in Herbology,” he reassures, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Percy, who is now looking appropriately cozy bundled up in the blanket. He is still glaring.
Percy opens his mouth again, clearly about to continue protesting. Instead of paying attention to whatever he’s about to say, Oliver leans in to pluck Percy’s glasses, which have began slipping down his nose, off his face.
Percy promptly shuts his mouth.
Oliver looks down to fold up his glasses and puts them on the nightstand. When he looks up, Percy’s face is even more red than before, at which Oliver frowns.
“Perce’, I’m serious, you don’t look well. Just rest, you’ve already worked harder than anyone else on exams. This is your body telling you to take a damn break.”
Percy still looks reluctant, although his eyes have began to flutter with the signs of oncoming sleep.
“It’s either that, or I carry you to the Hospital Wing,” he adds for good measure.
Percy immediately shuts his eyes and rolls over, facing the side opposite Oliver. Oliver laughs, looking at Percy’s mess of red curls, peaking out of the covers where he’s pulled them higher over his face. He feels fondness grow in his chest— it’s rare that he gets to see Percy act so childish these days, stressed as he’s been with studying, Head Boy duties, chasing after his siblings, internships, job hunting, or whatever else he’s loaded onto his plate.
“Fine, fine, you win. I’ll rest,” Percy grunts, his voice muffled under the covers. “Happy?”
“Very,” Oliver tries to tease, but even he can hear the fondness he’s accidentally let bleed into his voice.
Percy digs his head further into the covers and makes a few unintelligible noises, before drawing his head back out.
“I hope you know, you’re much worse than me when you’re sick. It is truly a nightmare to get you to take a break from Quidditch practice.”
Oliver chuckles.
“I know,” he says back indulgently.
After a few moments, there’s still no response from Percy, so Oliver assumes he’s fallen asleep. He goes to put out the lamps and opens the door.
“Thank you, Ollie.”
Oliver startles, feeling his cheeks flush, and turns back to look at Percy. Light snoring has began filling the room.
“You’re welcome, Perce’,” he smiles, and slips out of the dorm.
thank you for reading!! hopefully i get better soon so i can update soon :’).
Yesterday I finally managed to post what I've been working on for the last couple days! A ww1 AU for changeisperce2025. Honestly I'm quite happy that I at least managed to finish something in time.
Maybe in a softer life [we would bleed but not die] (7507 words)
Chapters: 1/1
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Characters: Percy Weasley, Oliver Wood, Marcus Flint, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley
Additional Tags: Percy Weasley Has PTSD, Oliver Wood Needs a Hug, Protective Oliver Wood, POV Percy Weasley, Alternate Universe - World War I, Trench Warfare, Historical Inaccuracy, Angst and Tragedy, Dark, Violence, Period Typical Attitudes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Disturbing Themes, Suicidal Thoughts, Death
Summary:
Oliver looks at Percy for a long time and then he says quietly, 'Don't die, alright? That's all you've got to do for now. Don't die.'
And Percy doesn't.
Ok Perciver freaks I’ve finally finished a full re-edit Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy
I’ve somehow managed to cut out 20k words in the process?? But don’t worry that’s purely from correcting grammar and making sentences flow nicer lol I haven’t cut anything important
If anyone reads it and spots any mistakes let me know <33
I was going to be a tease about it but yk what fuck it, new fic posted today <3
I Got This Feeling On A Summer Day (3659 words) by SarkyLittleMonster
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Characters: Oliver Wood, Oliver Wood's Mother, Percy Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Lee Jordan (Harry Potter)
Additional Tags: POV Oliver Wood, Oliver Wood-centric, Pining Oliver Wood, Scottish Oliver Wood, Oliver Wood Loves Percy Weasley, Percy Weasley Loves Oliver Wood, Beach Holidays, Teen Romance, Divorce, Post-Divorce, Angst and Feels, Horny Teenagers, J. K. Rowling can fuck all the way off, and where she's reached off she can fuck off a bit further
Summary:
In his head, Oliver calls him The Watcher. Sitting on the sides, eyes flicking from the page of his book to Oliver. At least that's what Oliver wants, what he needs. For him to be looking at Oliver.
Hypothetically speaking, how would yall feel about a pretty long perciver fic where theyre muggle college students at Hogwarts (a college) and theyre roommates?
The side of Percy’s mouth quirked up at him slightly and Oliver was ruined. Suddenly he realized he needed to leave. Between Percy’s proximity and this revelation and the number of drinks consumed between them Oliver was suddenly sure that he was coming desperately close to ruining everything.
Guys I was reading a Perciver fic which I haven’t done in a while (about a year I think gang) and I don’t think I can read them again because my boyfriends called Oliver and also goes by Ollie and the whole fic just seems like him to me and I can’t do this anymore 😭😭
Someone to Notice
Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood | Rated: T | Length: 1.4k
A fluffy little birthday gift for the phenomenal @skeptiquewrites, who's an incredible author and a stalwart cheerleader for rarepairs. Two of my favorites of Tee's fics are She Was Pretty (Lav/Pav), which is one of my all-time favorite non-Drarry fics and a gorgeous read of Lavender Brown post-war, and Nothing Left to Burn, Tee's brand new Wireless fic, fresh and full of Montreal life. She's also absolutely brilliant at microfics, so dig into her tag here too!
It shouldn't be such a big deal, introducing Oliver to Percy's family. Only it is a big deal, because Oliver matters a lot and Percy wants it to go well.
Percy Weasley’s tiny first-floor bedroom was precisely as it had been when he left it behind at seventeen, or so Percy claimed. Oliver had never seen it before.
Oliver lounged on the small single bed, on top of the knit blanket and the thin, well-used pillows. He’d changed into striped socks and pajama bottoms and a too-small jumper, pilfered from the perfectly organized drawers.
But Oliver couldn’t take his eyes off Percy even if he wanted to be nosy about the room.
Percy was pacing back and forth, wearing pressed trousers and a buttoned shirt, hair still shiny with product. Oliver wanted to sink his hands into it and muss it up, but that wouldn’t end well for either of them if he did it yet. So he waited. It’d take at least three more room lengths before Percy started talking again.
He was near the desk in the corner at the end of his second circuit when he turned around suddenly. “It went well,” Percy said, as though it were the most ludicrous conclusion.
“Reckon it did, yeah,” answered Oliver, running his fingers over a pull in the blanket.
“I wasn’t prepared for that possibility.”
Oliver laughed brightly, and pushed himself up to sit on the end of the bed. “I know.”
Percy hesitated, as straight-backed as the dozen sharpened quills waiting at attention in the cupholder on the desk. “You’re laughing at me. You think I’m ridiculous for being worried.”
“Never,” Oliver gulped, though he couldn’t contain the smile.
“You think I got myself so worked up over this dinner, and of course it went well, and I’m—”
“You were nervous.” Oliver pushed off the bed, crowding carefully into his space. There was enough room between them still that if Percy needed to pick up his pacing again, Oliver wouldn’t be in the way. But if — if — he wanted, he could step closer and fold himself into Oliver’s arms. “I was nervous too, when you met my da wasn’t I? And that was just one parent at a time.”
“It’s not that I thought they’d be weird about the gay thing,” Percy huffed, fixing his glasses with one hand and fidgeting with the other. He always did that when he was nervous or trying to sort something out, like seeing better would help him understand. “Charlie’s, well, that’s always been obvious, and even if Mum had a hard go with Harry’s reveal, it was never about him being queer.”
“Did you think they’d be weird about me?” teased Oliver, reaching with one cautious hand. Percy didn’t shy away, so he brushed his fingertips over the back of Percy’s hand. “You are sleeping with the enemy, after all. I beat your sister fair and square on the pitch, and I’m not going to start going easy on the Harpies just for you, family or no.”
Percy smiled at that, in the corners of his eyes and the twitch of his mouth. “Can’t exactly throw the games for you or for her, can I?”
“You could.” Oliver pressed closer, daring his luck. “Oh, Minister for Magical Games and Sports Regulation, won’t you engage in a little quid pro quo?”
“For Gin, I might,” he said, but took Oliver’s hand anyway. He teased, “Don’t know if I could swing it for you.”
Oliver gasped. “You’ll put me through dinner with every single Weasley and still not break the rules for Puddlemere?”
“As if you’d let me break the rules for you,” Percy said. He stepped forward into Oliver’s arms, and let Oliver hug him.
Percy was a little taller, and a little more lithe, but his body fit against Oliver’s perfectly, Oliver’s nose in his shoulder and his hands along his back, pulling him close. He smelled like Molly’s cooking, like onions and spices and another, older sort of home. His apartment always smelled clean, like fresh-folded laundry and a new bottle of ink.
“I wouldn’t, yeah,” Oliver answered, muffled in Percy’s starched shirt. “If we can’t win on our skill—”
“You shouldn’t win at all,” finished Percy.
Oliver flushed, glad they were standing too close for Percy to catch his embarrassment. Had he said the little phrase so often? Or was Percy paying attention too?
Percy pressed a kiss to Oliver’s forehead and stepped back to lounge against the desk. “You think it went well?” he asked, too casual, though Oliver knew the nerves underneath.
“Definitely,” he said. “They loved me, but are you surprised?”
“I mean it.”
“It went really well.”
Percy met his eyes.
At dinner, Percy had sat between George and Ginny, picking at his potatoes and adjusting his glasses, toes tapping Oliver’s under the table. His worry was subtle; no one at the table had noticed, pouring Oliver more wine and laughing at a joke Arthur had told. This dinner was a big deal for Percy, and yet not one of them seemed aware, teasing Oliver like he was already a member of the family. There was no grand reveal, no he’s Percy’s, don’t you see?, no coming out, or proclamations of welcome. It was as though Oliver’s sudden presence at Percy’s side was no more unusual than the gnomes in the garden.
It wasn't insensitivity, Oliver thought. Each of them had decided Percy was fine. Percy had it together, and Percy didn’t need reassurance. It was all true: Percy was confident and together, wise beyond his years and too competent for his own good. It was easy to stop there, and his siblings never learned to notice when Percy’s words got a bit faster — not because he was excited, but because he was afraid of being cut off — or how he paced when he was trying to work through something difficult.
Oliver grabbed him, hands on Percy’s chest, against the ridiculous collared shirt, and brought him close, nose knocking against Percy’s glasses. He kissed Percy like he noticed him: every bit all at once.
“Oh,” Percy said, breathless when Oliver let him go.
“You were very brave,” said Oliver, kissing him one more time.
“You don’t think I’m ridiculous?”
“Completely batshit. But not about dinner.”
Percy frowned at him.
“Turn around,” he said, pushing Percy’s elbow, and Percy went. “Do you see that?” Oliver pointed to the bookshelf beside the desk. “You made a call number system for your personal library. Bet you’ve even got it all written down and everything. You’re completely ridiculous.”
“I don’t have it written down,” murmured Percy.
“No?”
“...It’s an automatic charm, it records when a book’s gone out. No parchment needed.”
Oliver started to laugh, joy bubbling from his chest, smiling so hard his teeth hurt. Percy started laughing too, and then they were holding hands and laughing at the bookshelf, and standing in the tiny bedroom with only one window. They laughed until they couldn’t breathe, and then they breathed and Oliver held his hand and figured that they were probably going to be alright.
“They’ll hear,” Percy gasped, rubbing his eyes, biting his lip to stop from laughing.
“Not a thing,” Oliver grinned. “George-proof silencing charm. Cast it somewhere around your fourth lap around the room.”
“Just when did you research a George-proof silencing charm?” Percy put a hand on his shoulder, subtle confidence returning to his gaze. Oliver shivered, leaning into the touch.
“I’d like to say it was for something hot,” Oliver said. Percy stepped closer to him, his other hand drifting down the front of Oliver’s too-hot, too-thick jumper.
“But?”
“I thought you might worry about,” Oliver hesitated as Percy leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, to just below his ear. “Er— worry about dinner,” he finished quickly.
“I was worried,” Percy said. He stepped forward, pushing Oliver back towards the bed. It was so tiny, but they could both fit if they lay close. “But it went well.”
“Right.” Oliver sat down hard on the bottom of the bed. Percy tugged off his jumper, and ran possessive fingers down his shoulders, down his back. “I know how important your family is to you.”
“You’re important to me too.” Percy bent down to kiss him. “I’m glad I’ve got you.”
So Oliver, of course, pulled him down onto the bed with him and unbuttoned his stupid starched shirt and lay as close as he could. Percy took off his glasses, slipping them up onto the nightstand. He kissed Oliver again, and again, till they were both pink-cheeked and Oliver was smiling so hard it hurt. It was silly, kissing like this, in the tiny bedroom with all Percy’s family sleeping nearby, but maybe that was how it was supposed to be: ridiculous. Easy.
Later, Oliver said it again, in case he’d forgotten: “It went well,” like that, quiet and whispered across the threadbare pillow with only the moon outside the window watching.
