Oliver wood imagine's

Stay with me

"Y/n, stay with me, PLEASE!......please....." My eyes barely opened, only enough to see Oliver crying over my body. His soft, warm hands held my face tight but not painfully comforting. My eyes closed, no longer seeing Oliver, Seeing nothing but blackness.

Sometime later...

My eyelids flutter open, slowly adjusting to the glaring brightness that floods the room. I squint, trying to focus my vision amidst the blinding light. After a few moments, my gaze drifts to the right, where I spot the nurse stationed by the tall, double doors at the far end of the expansive room. She moves with quiet efficiency, attending to her duties. 

As I attempt to prop myself up, a wave of discomfort washes over me; pain radiates from my midsection, a throbbing sensation that feels almost unbearable. Gritting my teeth, I cautiously pull back the fabric of my hospital gown, revealing a stark white bandage tightly wrapped around my abdomen. The sight sends a jolt of worry through me, amplifying my curiosity about what has happened to cause such a hurt.

"OH, MISS Y/L/N! " The nurse jumps a little, walking so fast that it feels more like a slow run than a fast walk if that makes sense.

"Careful now...Glad to see you finally awake," She says, still making her way over.

"How long was I out?" I ask in a tired and confused tone.

"Almost three weeks now," She says causally while finally approaching me.

3 weeks the fuck? what happened?

"What?" I ask, shocked but still tired and feeling weird.

"Oh yes... We weren't completely sure you were going to make it at the time of the accident," She says.

"What happened, and why is my stomach wrapped with a bandage?" I ask, looking down at it.

"Oh dear, during your last Quidditch game against another school, the other team had cheated, and one of them stabbed you right in the stomach. You froze for a second, and everyone stopped what they were doing, jaws dropped. You sat there for a moment looking at your bloody hand, then off you fell to the ground. Your teammates tried to race and get you, but they just weren't quick enough....but the person who took it the hardest was Mr.Wood.....Never seen that boy cry before. He was so scared he had lost you. In fact, he comes in every day and sits here in this chair for hours talking to you and holding your hand....sweet boy he is," She explains with sorrow and sympathy.

"Oh... yes, I think I remember a bit now," I reply, my brows knitting together in concentration as I sift through the haze of my thoughts. 

"You're welcome to take your time getting dressed," the nurse continues, her voice gentle yet assertive. "Your friends have dropped off some clean clothes for you—nice, fresh ones." She pauses, making eye contact to ensure I understand the seriousness of her next words. "But remember, you need to take it easy. I want you to come in every day so I can carefully clean your wound. And I must insist—no Quidditch until you're fully healed." Her stern yet caring demeanor leaves no room for arguments, and I can sense the importance of her instructions.

No Quidditch now that's the worst news of all of this.

After what felt like an eternity of sitting in silence, I finally mustered the strength to get out of bed. I slipped into my clean clothes, the soft fabric offering a small comfort against the ache in my abdomen. Each tentative step towards the door was a reminder of my struggle, as a dull pain pulsed through me, but I pressed on, determined to move forward despite the discomfort.

"Oh, Dear! I'm so sorry I forgot here's a crutch so you can get around a little easier," she says, placing a crutch under my arm.

"Thanks," I said, giving her a sweet smile.

"of course, dear," She says, giving me a sweet but sympathetic smile and watching me leave.

After a while, I finally made my way back to the Gryffindor common room, the familiar warmth and energy enveloping me like a comforting blanket. The moment I stepped inside, a wave of excitement washed over my friends. They rushed toward me, their faces lit with relief and joy, engulfing me in enthusiastic hugs and an onslaught of questions about my well-being.

Amidst the chaos, I spotted Oliver weaving through the crowd, determination etched on his face. He finally reached me, his expression shifting from anxiety to sheer relief. 

"Y/N!" he called out, his voice breaking through the noise as he wrapped me in a gentle embrace, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I've been worried sick about you. Are you okay?" His concern was palpable, every word dripping with care as he helped guide me to the couch, where I could finally catch my breath and feel the comfort of home.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was almost out for three weeks; that's crazy," I say in disbelief.

"Yeah, it was a scary three weeks for us all. We were all so scared for you," Oliver says.

"I can't believe someone would actually do something like that," my friend Angelina says, sitting next to me on the couch.

"People are crazy. I'm so relieved you are okay and alive. I don't know what I would have done without you. You mean so much to me, and I care for you greatly," Oliver says, sitting next to me on the opposite side of Angelina.

"Aw, thanks, Oliver. I appreciate that I care a lot about you, too," I say with a sweet smile.

"Uhm, Angelina, can I speak to y/n alone for a moment, please?" Oliver asks Angelina politely.

"Of course!" she responds, her eyes sparkling with warmth. A radiant smile spreads across her face, filling the air with a sense of affection as she turns to leave, leaving you feeling cherished and uplifted.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, turning to Oliver after watching Angelina leave. We smiled at each other.

"Y/n, you are an amazing quidditch player, one of the best on the team, and when you were stabbed and we didn't know if you were going to live, I realized all the things I never got to say and do with you." He starts.

"Aw, thank you," I reply, my heart fluttering as I wait for him to continue. He takes a deep breath, his gaze intense and sincere. "I've never had the chance to truly express my feelings for you," he begins, his voice steady yet filled with a blend of vulnerability and hope. "Honestly, I've never met anyone quite like you—a girl who holds such significance in my life, someone with whom I share so many passions and dreams. I want you to be mine," he confesses, his words wrapped in deep emotion.

"Aw, Oliver, that really means a lot to me," I say, a warm feeling spreading through me as I look into his hopeful eyes.

With a nervous shuffle, he takes a deep breath. "Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?" he asks, his voice slightly trembling as he casts his gaze down, almost as if afraid of my response.

I pause for a moment, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. "Whoa... Uhm... Y-yeah! Yes, I will!" I exclaim, a smile breaking across my face. "I definitely wasn't expecting such a big question after waking up from a three-week coma, but hey, I'm not complaining!" I finish playfully, laughter lacing my words as I see the relief wash over his face.