oliver parkinson

Masterlist (for mobile users)


{ G E N E R A L }


{ S E R I E S } 



{ I M A G I N E S }


Draco Malfoy

Fred/George Weasley

Cedric Diggory

Oliver Wood

Harry Potter


Tom Riddle


The Marauders

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

James Potter

Regulus Black

Severus Snape


Hugo Weasley

Scorpius Malfoy


Newt Scamander


{ A E S T H E T I C S }

Hogwarts Houses




{ I M A G I N E S }

John Shelby

Michael Gray

Thomas Shelby

Finn Shelby

Isaiah Jesus


I used to say I wanna die before I’m old but because of you I might think twice.

Sirius to Remus.

Draco to Harry.

Marcus to Oliver.

Pansy to Hermione.

Ginny to Luna.

James to Lily.

Lavender to Parvati.

Dean to Seamus.

Albus to Scorpius.

8 September 2017

Hogwarts dungeons, Slytherin debate hall

Hi Lily,

You don’t want to know how badly I wanted to floo to your house and hug you to death when I got your last letter. I read it at breakfast and you totally got me out of sorts before charms class, and then Angelina comforted me and that reminded me that you don’t have an Angelina to comfort you so that didn’t exactly help.

Albus and I thought off a plan to lift your spirits during charms though, which should have arrived by now so you won’t read this while sad. I’m not saying anything about it in case you haven’t gotten it yet but I do know it will without a doubt cheer you up.

Also talking about Albus, he is now thick as thieves with Scorpius Malfoy, who is not at all alike his father in my dad’s stories. First of all because he’s not a ferret. I actually wonder how a person could look like a ferret? Does Malfoy senior have whiskers? A huge blindfold shaped marking around his eyes? Is he covered in black and white fur? How does that even work?

I think I’ll ask Scorpius if he has a picture of his father to see if he resembles a tiny carnivorous mammal. I highly doubt it since I found Pansy Parkinson doesn’t look like a pug either. (Again, how do you even look like a pug? People just don’t look like pugs? I don’t understand my dad sometimes)

Talking about the Parkinson’s, Eris Parkinson is a pain in the butt. Like I now finally understand my dad when he describes how much he dislikes Malfoy senior. Everything she does is annoying. She chews loud, she eats large chunks of meat just to annoy me because I am a vegetarian, she snores, she is the messiest roommate ever and she hogs the shower for hours.

Did I tell you she’s my dormmate yet? I can’t imagine I haven’t because I can barely focus on anything else but her. Angelina thinks she’s annoying too, but it doesn’t bother her too much because she grew up with four siblings, all of them adopted by her two dads Marcus and Oliver.

You know your father’s old quidditch captain? That guy is apparently married to his rival Slytherin captain. According to Angelina they’re really cute together, and they are with exactly the right number to make a quidditch team. (Her dads keep saying that’s not why they adopted five kids but none of them believe it)

I have to round this letter up now, I am about to start my first inter house trivia quiz as the representative of the Ravenclaw first years after winning the first round against Parkinson the Prat (Or Eris the Evil, I haven’t decided yet). It’s a thing the Slytherins organize and I plan to win it. So far no first year has managed that in the past fifteen years.

Anyhow have fun with the thing Albus and I send you!

With haste because I’m about to go up against Scorpius Malfoy,

Rose Granger-Weasley

Ps. Albus here. Please don’t forget to water the plants, Neville won’t forgive us if we let them die again and I’m pretty sure dad will forget

Pps. Angelina here. I’ll see what I can do around christmas. Maybe I can organize a Granger-Weasley-Potter-Flint-Wood meet up, that should distract James enough. Also if I could I would have given you a statue for that howler you send. Absolutely brilliant.


@percyprotectionnet : Post war au.

Percy Weasley, writer, interview with Witch Weekly, September 2001

‘Percy Weasley, the third child in the infamous Weasley clan, is about to release his second novel. After the success of his first novel, The Golden Window, we demanded a sequel and that’s why he’s here today! His new novel, A Window of Choice, comes out only next week. We spoke earlier this week about his family and how he’s been post-war. When asked about his family, he seemed to shy away but did mention their loving support for each other.

“I distanced myself from them during the years before the war. Luckily we regained our trust and they’ve supported me with my writing. My brother, George and I have become incredibly close since the war, so I’ve been helping him in his shop.”

Of course, I couldn’t have an interview with My. Weasley without mentioning his rumoured love interests, ranging from old classmate, Oliver Wood, to Pansy Parkinson, the girl who tried to turn Harry Potter in, to Audrey Carlton, a healer at St. Mungo’s. He of course blushed at this question and denied a relationship at all. We then talked about the plot of his new novel (without spoilers!)

“The lead, Freddie,” named after his late brother,” continues on through his journey of finding himself in his new role, having found a group of friends to guide him in the right direction. So, now he must work towards success with these people to stop someone very close to him from holding too much power, as was hinted in the first book. Now, that’s all I can say, because I would hate to spoil this for anyone.”

And, that’s just it! A Window of Choice sounds like it will make or break Freddie and hopefully we’ll enjoy it as much as we enjoyed the last one. Just before the interview ended, I got to ask what he did in his free time, as our readers would die to know!

“I moved back home after the war, just to be with my family, but now I’ve moved out, into muggle London, so I have resources for writing no one else has. I also help at George’s joke shop, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, from time to time, as it helps both of us so much.”

So, that’s the inside gossip on rising star, Percy Weasley. Read next week’s edition to get the inside gossip on The Holyhead Harpies new signing,Ginny Weasley.’

you can’t take the sky from me - ch one: follow the plan

a/n: *shows up forty minutes late with starbucks & a ridiculous rare-pair au that literally no one asked for*
anyways, hi hello I am sorry I have been terribly absent and mostly just a nothing person?? ANYWAYS. I had this idea for a smut scene - a short drabble, you know - and couldn’t figure out a good background setting for it. and then I had this idea to do a space pirates au, which seemed fun and silly and like, idk, 3k tops??
i am so terribly sorry to inform you all that I am currently flying past 13k with absolutely no plans of slowing down or stopping. the outline is nearly 2k and divided into four??? sections and growing. @nymphadoraholtzmann​ drew me the schematics for a warp drive that we designed. everything has gotten very very out of hand and i’m still not entirely? sure how or why???
BUT the tldr here is that I kind of want to make sure this isn’t absolutely nuts and that SOMEONE is going to read it, so I figured I’d post the first chapter and see what the reception is. I probably won’t post the next chapter until I’m closer to being done the fic, unless you’re all super super into this and then hey, maybe I will - but expect another month or so wait, I think, before the fic starts posting in earnest. (I’m also tagging @olivieblake​, @provocative-envy​, @flintwoodandco​, @newt-scxmander​, @kyonomiko​, @ff-sunset-oasis​ - if anyone else wants to be tagged for updates, let me know!!)

what’s inside: space pirates, firefly (etc) ripoffs, probably-bad science, a not-insignificant amount of smut, lots of tropes, a fuckton of swearing, a huge assortment of rare pairs, a small bit of kidnapping, and probably at least one sappy talk about feelings.
pairing(s): pansy parkinson/percy weasley (+ marcus flint/oliver wood, ginny weasley/luna lovegood, draco malfoy/theo nott/hermione granger, & more)

“Motherfucker,” she hissed, as the engine in front of her came to a screeching, stuttering halt. “That is abso-fucking-lutely not a good sign.”

It wasn’t. Pansy might not have a fancy school coding, or - really - even an instructional manual for the hunk of almost literal trash she called a ship, but she knew that under no circumstances was her engine ever, ever supposed to stop.

Huffing slightly and not taking her eyes off the unusually-still contraption in front of her, she reached out in the direction of her mod-com and punched at the buttons until a familiar tone buzzed to life.

“Cap?” she called out, pausing and waiting for the long-suffering sigh and the expected retort of, ‘how many gorram times have I told you not to call me Cap?’ and when it didn’t come after ten, then twenty seconds, Pansy started to panic.

“Draco?” she pressed, reaching out to hit a few buttons on her console in vain hopes that her ship would whirr to life again. “Theo?” Still silence.

Not good. Not good at all.

Keep reading

Love Declaration on Quidditch Pitch

Pairing: Lee Jordan/Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood

for: @hprarepairnet and @slytherdornet‘s Be Mine challenge

word count: 935

warning: fluff and silliness

(FFN link) (AO3 link)

Minerva McGonagall was having a headache.

Marcus Flint was feeling murderous.

Oliver Wood, on the other hand, was kind of, well, flabbergasted.

The common causes for their headache and urge for murder and confusion were now sitting at the Quidditch commentator’s booth, sharing one megaphone and more than one kisses, occasionally advertising Potter’s Firebolt and more than occasionally complimenting on Oliver Wood’s ‘panther-like grace when saving a goal’ and ‘visible six-packs’. But worse of all, between the compliments every now and then one of them would toss in – “Do you reckon he’ll be willing to join a threesome with us?”

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New Post:

Chapter 3: Birds of a Feather [ AO3 ] | [ ff.net ]

“Here is the game,” she declared, and Hermione, who had been certain they’d played several games already, felt a wave of nausea. “You, Miss Granger,” she said, gesturing to her, “will divest Mr Malfoy of his clothing. For each item you remove, I will reveal a bit of information.” She leaned back, predatorily revealing her teeth as she smiled. “Fair, isn’t it?”

Draco passed his tongue over his lips, looking grim.

“Fine,” he said, his voice clipped, and rose to his feet. “Come on, then, Granger,” he beckoned, seemingly unable to look at her. “Let’s get this over with.”

She gaped at him. “But - ”

“They’re just clothes, Granger, come on,” he sighed impatiently, jutting his chin out. “Just give the lady what she wants. However demented it is,” he added unhappily, arching a brow, and Dionisia lifted her glass, toasting him.

Hermione let out a growl of displeasure, rising to her feet. “Fine,” she said, standing behind him. He didn’t turn to look at her, and she reached up, briskly nudging his traveling robes over his shoulders and letting them fall to the ground, leaving him in a shirt and trousers.

And presumably underwear, she told herself, flinching slightly.

She desperately hoped he was wearing underwear.

How You Met

Harry Potter:

Ofcourse, everyone knew ‘The Boy Who Lived’ and Y/n wasn’t among the people who caught his attention. He is extremely stupid to know the efforts put by her to get to be friends with him. For instance, purposely hitting him on his shoulder and then falling in front of him? Nope. He would just say sorry and continue gossiping with his friends. After a while, she stopped putting any kind of efforts.

But he noticed her only in the Fourth Year when Umbridge ruined everyone’s mood. The new prefects were teasing Y/n and she couldn’t hold it any longer. She snapped and performed a spell that threw the prefect to the other side of the room knocking off someone. That 'someone’ was Harry. He looked..spellbound (A/N - Pun intended xD) While the prefect sprinted off towards Umbridge’s office, you gave a hand to Harry, who was smiling.

He got up and asked, “Aren’t you the girl who once fell in front of me?”

She said nodding “Well Harry, aren’t you the boy who just fell in front of me?” They both laughed and that’s how their friendship started.

Draco Malfoy:

Y/n met him in the third year when she went to buy her books. They talked to each other for some time. He was very proud to be a pure blood and Y/n wasn’t into any kind of blood status discrimination. So she smiled and avoided his remarks.

Later on, she met him again in the train compartment when she sat with him and his friends. Ofcourse the other two friends were like his bodyguards. But when he sent the two to get some food, he was a whole new person. He was very polite and soft in the inside. He pretended to be hard as a rock, but it was just so visible in his eyes that he can be different among the people he was comfortable with.

“You really don’t know how to make friends properly, do you?”

He looked at her and smirked, “How do you know?”

“I can tell. I have been talking to you for quite a while.”

Since then they spent a lot of time together.

Ron Weasley:

Ron was very stupid when it came to some subjects. But chess? He was the best. Y/n met Ron in the first year when it was Christmas and the whole school was kind of empty. Except that there were the Weasley twins, Ron and Harry. All of her friends were home for holidays while she was spending her time here as their family were 'busy’ for some reason. She was quietly sitting in the corner observing Harry and Ron play chess where Harry seemed to lose in every way. Y/n were helping Harry to move the chess pieces through sign language across the table, which Ron seemed to notice after a while.

“Hey this is cheating!” Ron said.

“Ron you are good enough, but atleast give him a chance to win.” She yelled.

And that’s how Ron got to know Y/n, by doing the best thing he can. By playing chess.

Fred Weasley:

No one dared to mess around with the twins. All the people knew how they can prank on them mercilessly. Except Y/n. She was a kind of person who didn’t really care about small things, but if you do something really bad that angers her or embarrasses her, then you shouldn’t really face her at all.

As the twins always did, they were pranking on people and oneday, they decided to prank on her. It was Fred’s idea but George didn’t seem to like it that much. So what they did is that they hung a bucket of water above the door and just when Y/n opened it…she got drenched. It was very much violating for her and she was embarrassed as for a fifth year student, she was physically mature and erm– some undergarments were visible. Her friends quickly helped her to get covered with their robes. Fred realized his mistake and quickly went to her to apologize but instead of getting an 'Its okay’ he received a reeeaally tight slap across his face. The whole floor was quiet.

“WELL I AM SORRY TOO YOU GUYS!!” She yelled and ran back to her House’s common room.

Fred and George never messed with her again, but then they became friends real quick..as you see, Y/n could give some wicked ideas BUT with all the precautions necessary.

George Weasley:

George. He was always kind of the one full of puns and surprises. But also a bit shy when compared with Fred. Fred was the immediate with his flirting skills but George was steady.

So the friendship began when oneday in the potions class she hissed at her friend but who was oblivious of the situation. Y/n’s friend was going on a date with a guy and she needed every kind of step ready for her friend. So she wrote on a piece of paper “Meet me in Hogsmeade today before going out with him” and crumpled it and threw it towards her.

But instead, it landed on George. “Merlin’s BEARD!! Why do you have such a bad aim Y/n!!” She cursed herself. When she looked back up, George was already smiling at her while Fred was smirking. This looks soooo wrong. She blushed and decided to concentrate on her work.

After the class, Y/n quickly went to him. But before she said anything George said, “I know it was for your friend but if you feel bored, maybe you could hang out with us.”

“Oh.” She sighed in relief, “Thank you. That will be nice. I thought I had to spend my time alone and bored.”

Well my dear, this was just the beginning.

Cedric Diggory:

He was quite easily very much popular among girls. But Y/n specifically didn’t like boys just because of their looks. For her, if someone has looks equals to 100 and a personality equals to 1, she would not even care to look at him. And this was true that she didn’t treat him different from others either.

She remembered when once she tried to talk to him and he kindly brushed her off, but later was found laughing with his friends about it.

So it all began when she was walking towards the Herbology class. And Cedric tried to run past her but instead, collided with her.

“Watch where you are going!!! Can’t you see??”

“It’s really hard when I’ve got my eyes over a pretty girl like you.”

“Not gonna work on me Diggory. Try harder. Get some personality to show off.” She said turning around.

“I may seem bad but, I am not that bad. Atleast give me a chance?”

Y/n turned around to look at him and smiled.


Oliver Wood:

Oliver was a very competitive guy. From the first year he had a competitive kind of relation with Y/n and she too, didn’t spare a single chance to win. But they had a silent competition and only spoke through their eyes. How it happened? Well it just happened.

But when it came to get selected in the Quidditch team, Y/n lost. That was the first time when she spoke to him.

“Congratulations Wood.” She said.

“Wow, took you years to say it.” Oliver chuckled.

“Shut it.” Y/n smirked.

The competition never really stopped, but it surely created a strong bond between them.


everything i’m running away from

pairings: Blaise Zabini/Theo Nott, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood

vampire! Theodore Nott, vampire! Oliver Wood

word count: 2391

alt links: ffn, ao3


At his hotel room, Blaise was just about to peel the clothes off the long-legged Italian girl when someone knocked on the door.  He felt a bit irritated at the distraction, but deep down he was also quite relieved because it just didn’t feel right with this girl.

Not that he wanted to admit it.

Not that he wanted to admit that nobody really felt right for him.  Nobody except for Theo Nott.

He refused to acknowledge how much wanted Theodore Nott, wanted him so much that he couldn’t really want anyone else anymore – he refused to even think about his once best friend, who turned out to be – to be a fucking vampire

The knock grew louder.

“I’ll go get it,” he disentangled himself from the slightly pouting girl, and ignored the tremendously relief that washed over as the feeling of her touch disappeared.

The relief didn’t last long anyway as he opened the door and blinked, slightly shocked, at a furious Marcus Flint.  What the hell?

“I found him for you, Flint, time to pay up the rest of the Galleons we agreed,” beside Flint, Romilda Vane drawled.

What? Blaise suddenly felt both alarmed and nauseated – he’d escaped to Italy four months ago to hide away from all his friends and classmates after the … incident … with Theo.  He’d thought he was safe, in a fancy muggle hotel filled with muggle tourists, safe from the past, safe the things he’d rather not face.

(He should’ve known the past always had a way of coming back to bite him on the arse.)

Marcus huffed impatiently, but stuffed a bag of Galleons into Romilda’s hand, who retreated back to count the money.

Marcus paid no further attention to Romilda as he glared dangerously at Blaise, “We need to talk, Zabini.”

Keep reading

like thunder

pairing: oliver wood x pansy parkinson

setting: modern, non-magical, college au

word count: 536

written for: the world + @slytherdornet halloween challenge

It happens like this:

The day before Halloween, Daphne comes down with mono, thanks to Can’t-Keep-It-In-His-Fucking-Kilt Cormac McLaggen, and Astoria has a tantrum roughly the size of Lower Manhattan because she’s ten, and she has a Wonder Woman costume hanging in her closet, and Daphne was supposed to take her fucking trick or treating.

“Pansy,” Daphne bleats, looking sick and sad and pathetic. “She’s, like, really into comic books right now. You have to.”

Pansy’s an only child. She doesn’t have to do anything. “There’s a Delt-Ep party,” she whines. “I waxed for this, Daphne.”

“Then you’re good for at least the next two weeks,” Daphne says, fluttering her lashes before she coughs, weakly. “Please?”

Pansy’s a really good friend.

She zips herself into her Slutty Bavarian Serving Wench dress, stockings and lipstick and garter in place, and then pastes on a fond, mostly genuine smile as she ushers Astoria down the front steps of the Greengrass brownstone. It’s not Astoria’s fault her sister’s a fucking train wreck.

“Come on,” Pansy sighs, looping her arm through Astoria’s elbow, “the really good candy’s going to be uptown.”

Thirty minutes later, Astoria’s weighed down by about a pound of miniature Kit-Kats, and they’re knocking on the door of a townhouse that’s a little more…lived in than its neighbors. The brick is faded, and the paint is peeling, and the burgundy shutters are actually functionally closed, not just decorative remnants of a charming pre-war aesthetic.

And then the door swings open, and Pansy’s breath gets caught somewhere in the vague vicinity of her chest.

Because the guy standing in front of them—he’s probably a few years older than her, tall and lean and effortlessly attractive. His hair is a messy dirty blonde, and his eyes are a clear, crystalline green, and he kind of looks like the pretty boy cover of a country music album. But he’s wearing a Cowboys jersey and holding a can of Bud Light and his expression is decidedly perplexed as he glances between Pansy and Astoria.

“Trick or treat!” Astoria shrieks, thrusting out her orange felt Jack-o’-lantern basket.

He blinks. “It’s—wait, what?”

“It’s Halloween,” Pansy says, slowly, like she’s talking to a fucking imbecile.

“No,” the guy argues with an adorably furrowed brow, “it’s football season.”

Astoria stomps her foot. “Do you have any Snickers?”

He stares at them, palpably helpless. “I have—a PowerBar?”

“Festive,” Pansy coos, curling her lip.

“Is it chocolate?” Astoria presses, pouting dangerously.

“It’s—um—maybe?” the guy stammers, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Don’t sound too confident,” Pansy simpers. “It’s almost like you’re unprepared.”

The guy squints at Pansy, and it’s like he’s noticing her for the first time—gaze roving from her mouth to her legs to her cleavage, expression illustrating a subtle sort of surprise as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, shoves his hands into his pockets and opens his mouth, tongue resting on the cushion of his bottom lip.

“I forgot,” he mutters, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “Look, why don’t you come inside—”

Trick or treat!” Astoria shouts again, sounding significantly less patient.

Pansy lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah,” she drawls. “Trick or treat.”


pairing: Oliver Wood / Pansy Parkinson

setting: postwar, break-up AU

They kissed, like they always did as he escorted her back to her flat every night. It was just part of her life now, another small, ingrained piece.

They parted, and said “I love you” and “good night” to each other, like they always did.

Automatic. Without a second thought.

It didn’t exactly feel wrong, but it no longer right either.

“See you on Saturday,” Pansy told Oliver. “Good luck with the games.“

Her parents had been thrilled when they’d finally been able to secure a marriage contract for Pansy. Her popularity after the war wasn’t something to be proud of, and they’d been worried. She was amazed, sometimes, that a Gryffindor liked Oliver Wood would want anything to do with her. She’d never really gotten along with the lions. But he was actually quite understanding about how not everyone was brave, how it was okay to be scared sometimes. He was also a famous Quidditch player with a nice income and also a pureblood and her parents were ecstatic about it.

They’d seemed to work. Things fell into place nicely and she fitted into his life easily, becoming part of his routine, like Quidditch. She always suspected his passion for Quiddich was more than his passion for her, though, but that was okay. Everyone had hobbies.

They’d seemed to work.

They fell into easy routines. She went to his matches, he took her shopping. They kissed goodbye, nice and sweet, every time he said goodbye in front her the flat she shared with Daphne and Blaise and Marcus.

Until it no longer felt sweet. No, it wasn’t bitter or sour or anything like that either, it was just no longer sweet. It felt tasteless. Automatic. Like some every day routine, losing the thrill of it.

“You should tell him how you feel,” Blaise said, propping his feet onto the table casually. Pansy briefly felt annoyed that only Blaise Zabini could make such a impolite gesture looked elegant.

“Never know you were an advocate of telling the truth,“ she said haughtily.

He rolled his eyes. “It was never about always lying or telling truth, and you know it. It’s about what’s most beneficial.”

“Your moral fluidity is astounding,” Daphne drawled.

He smiled. “Actually, I’m astounding in general. But thanks.”

“I honestly don’t know how you can stand him for this long at all,“ Marcus said, sympathetic. “He’s a bloody menace.”

“He is quite nice, actually.” Pansy sighed. Marcus looked skeptical. “It’s just … something felt wrong. But still, my parents … ”

“Stop caring about what they think,“ Blaise rolled his eyes.

“Not everyone’s like you,“ Pansy snapped back. Blaise just twitched his mouth slightly, and didn’t comment on this.

He kissed her, and she kissed back. It was easy, but not like the relaxing kind of easy, more like she just programmed this action into herself, and her brain was already thinking about other things as she did this.

Liking checking off something from the to-do list. Like some kind of everyday routine. Plain and simple and easy but –

Pansy bloody fucking goddamn hated routines.

Still, she said nothing.

One day, he brought up the topic first. “No offense, but – look, I like you, a lot, and maybe that’s enough for a marriage, I don’t know, but –”

She almost sighed in relief. “Thank Merlin. I thought it was just me.”

He gave her a wry smile, and she thought, fuck her parents. She was going to find her own happiness, not theirs.

“I do like you, though,“ Pansy hesitated, “But. Probably nothing more.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “Still friends?”

She smiled, it no longer felt automatic and unreal like the smiles she’d always given him before. “Yeah.”

They became friends. Things finally became natural and easy between them, without the routine-ish relationship in the way.  He joined her and her flatmates for drinks regularly at Diagon Alley every Saturday, trading jokes and insults, and debating Quidditch.

If, a year later, something more developed between him and one of her flatmates, that was another story.

107. Snape is not liked by every slytherin, especially after the time he decided to take away points from Slytherin students who modified the color of their house robes into different shades of green for a change. #“I expect you to understand the difference between emerald green and olive green, Ms Parkinson.” #“Oh fuck you sir” and #“Mint is UNACCEPTABLE”

submitted by @skyekg


pairing: pansy parkinson x marcus flint x oliver wood

setting: modern, non-magical, university AU

word count: 989

a/n: look, @provocative-envy​ got this trash ot3 stuck in my head and then I drank a beer and I can’t sleep so now you all get to reap the rewards. beware no proofreading to follow!!
ao3 link - if you’re into that kind of thing!

Pansy Parkinson always got what she wanted. Ever since she had been a child, from the pony she had begged her father for (it stank so, so badly) to the car at sixteen (not, of course, that she could drive very well) to her spot on the varsity cheerleading squad (that one had been easy), she got what she wanted.

Which was why, when she realized she wanted Marcus Flint, resident lacrosse team captain and general asshole, she figured it wouldn’t take that much work. All she would need to do would be to get him alone, twirl a strand of her currently-dyed-green hair around her finger, pop her bubblegum pink lips at him, and bam.

Pansy was not used to not getting what she wanted.

The first party that she’d seen him at, she sauntered over in her too-high heels and too-short skirt and simpered and giggled and he’d played along for a bit, kissing her neck and grinding against her on the ‘dance’ floor. When she tried to pull him up the stairs though, he kissed her hand and told her she was drunk and should probably go and have some water and a nap, and then slipped out the front door, not before slipping a scrap of paper with his number on it down the front of her bra.

At the second party, Pansy’s foolproof plan of pursuing Marcus hit a small snag. That small snag was a lithe baseball player by the name of Oliver Wood, who kept catching her eye across the room and running his hand through his short blonde hair like he didn’t realize how ridiculous it looked. The problem, of course, with always getting what you want is that you have to know what you want first.  

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The signs as ‘Harry Potter’ characters (students):

Aries:   Seamus Finnigan

Taurus:   Ron Weasley

Gemini:   Fred and George Weasley

Cancer:   Harry Potter

Leo:   Draco Malfoy

Virgo:   Hermione Granger

Libra:   Ginny Weasley

Scorpio:   Pansy Parkinson

Sagittarius:   Oliver Wood

Capricorn:   Cedric Diggory

Aquarius:   Luna Lovegood

Pisces:   Neville Longbottom


pairing: marcus flint x pansy parkinson x oliver wood

word count: 1036

setting: american college au

a/n: it’s a sandwich and someone’s in the middle but idk who all three of them at some point or the other // based on this and the long string of absolutely golden interchanges between @provocative-envy and @chovchang

So Pansy’s got an eye for athletes.

Sue her.

The bass is thumping beneath her feet, and she’s a little bad on the side of tipsy, Svedka distasteful in her mouth when she spots the first one.

He’s tall, got that cut of a sharp jawbone that reminds Pansy too often of the boys from prep school, broad shoulders clad snug in some skin-tight tee, and the shifting of his Adam’s apple as he downs a shot makes her mouth dry. Dark hair, flashing eyes, a little too dangerous to the touch even with the crowd of hooting football players around him.

She wants him on sight. It’s what she’s here for, after all.

He spots her over the rim of the shot-glass, eyes drag down over her pushed-up chest and the translucent black stockings. A thick eyebrow is raised, faintly interested, so Pansy takes it upon herself to approach him to turn ‘faintly’ into ‘very’.

“Hi,” Pansy flashes a smile, coy underneath the dim lights. Someone jostles her from behind, which makes her press closer. He doesn’t seem too deterred, large hands curling about her waist to keep from her toppling over. “You are?”

His eyebrow goes up further, as if she has the gall to ask who he is, but she likes athletes, not sports, and her days are spent in the studio across town so even if he was quarterback, she’d never know.

“Marcus Flint,” he says gruffly, “Quarterback?”


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