Hi everyone so I'm starting chapters of Oliver Wood and I hope you enjoy it. I will try to make these better as I write more and don't forget to vote and comment on ideas for things you want more of.***
You found yourself sneaking into the cool night air, the moon casting a silver glow on the deserted Quidditch pitch. You couldn't resist the urge to practice despite it being past curfew. With each swoop and dive on your broomstick, your heart raced with excitement, fueled by your passion for the game. The thrill of the wind against your face and the anticipation of perfecting your moves consumed you. Quidditch was more than just a sport to you; it was an obsession that drove you to defy the rules and chase after your dreams under the stars.
As the rain began to pour, the once steady handle of your broom became slick and unmanageable. This wasn't just any broom; it was an enchanted one, imbued with a mischievous spirit that seemed to revel in tossing you off its back. Each sudden jerk and unpredictable shift sent you tumbling, intensifying your frustration as you struggled to regain control amidst the downpour. At last, you managed to gain control of the broom, a sense of triumph swelling within you. But just as quickly, you lost your balance and tumbled off, plummeting from a height similar to that of the middle Quidditch goal. As you hit the soft, yielding sand, the impact jolted through your body, and you winced in pain despite the cushion it provided. Each grain seemed to mock your fall, leaving you both dazed and bruised. You lay there on the ground for a few minutes, trying to catch the breath that just had been knocked out of you. You were holding your stomach in pain, groaning tiredly and weakly laughing in frustration. You were adamant when it came to pain, but you were tired and soar, wet and muddy, and a little frustrated.
After lying there for a while trying to regain your breath, you thought it was time to go, so you carefully flew up to the Gryffindor window because going any other way would most likely get you caught; it had already been pretty late. When you got to the window, the broom threw you off, and you tumbled to the ground through the (open) window.
You groan and slowly get back on your feet. "Bloody hell, you stupid broom," you mutter on the ground, regretting picking up that cursed broom.
"Are you all right there, love?" Oliver Wood said, sitting on the couch. He had been reading a book before you stumbled in and looked very entertained.
"Oliver! Oh, hey there!" you exclaim with a playful smile, noticing his curious expression. "Uh, yeah, I'm perfectly fine, as you can see." You gesture dramatically, your arm wrapped around your stomach in a mock display of acrobatics. "I was just practicing my gymnastics routine. It's more challenging than it looks!" You chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood and share a laugh with him.
"Right, well, I see you got your tumbling down...Where were you?" Oliver added to your joke, eliciting a few laughs. He got up and started walking over to you.
"I was just practicing some Quidditch with this ridiculous enchanted broom my parents insisted on giving me," you say, exasperating at the broom leaning against the wall. The wood glints ominously in the light, a reminder of its unpredictable nature.
"Ah, right... why didn't you choose a regular broom that doesn't have a mind of its own and try to take your head off?" he replies, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. A playful smirk crosses his lips, revealing how entertained he is by your predicament. His tone drips with sarcasm, making it clear he finds your situation amusing and slightly absurd.
"I had never ridden this broom, so I wanted to try it. I didn't think it would be that hard, but boy, was I wrong by a long shot," you said.
"Well, considering you just crashed through the window, it doesn't seem things went well for you. You look absolutely miserable, with cuts and bruises all over, and your clothes are covered in dirt. Are you feeling okay?" Oliver asked, his concern evident in his voice as he stepped closer to assess the damage.
YOU ARE READING
Oliver wood imagine's
FantasySeries of different Oliver wood Imagines there are some bad words in some.