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Also reading these I realize how much I have grown as a writer. I do like these there is something cute about them. But I am a bigger fan of my new stuff. Once my beta gets the web back and my Mac-Book gets delivered. There shall be a flood of stuff.

I wrote these because my friend Maralee and I give each other prompts and a word count when we are bored and see what comes out of it. One night one of the prompts she Gave me turned into this little unfinished series of stories. I really want to finish I just have no idea where to go next. Also Marcus/Oliver is and always will be my main OTP, they don't get enough love.

I changed things here tho because in all the fics I read with them it's always Marcus that is the aggressor, never Oliver. That never made much sense in my head because although (all though?) Oliver is neurotic and obsessive as fuck in the books (which is why is my favorite char)He seems far more comfortable in his skin and with who is then Flint who just seems so angry and closed off. Which is why I think I tend to write Oliver as the more open (sexually and emotionally)of the two.

Side note sorry for any mistakes in the first one it's un-beta'd and I am dyslexic. Hella Dyslexic.

Marcus/Oliver
PG
100 words
Part I

Oliver dropped his books down on to a desk; he pulled the chair out and sat down. He was buried in his potions notes not really aware of what was going on around him. When he heard a grumble of frustration from the table next him, he snorted, was Flint slamming his face into a book.

“You can’t read them by beating them Flint, but then you have never opened on have you.” Oliver smirked

“Fuck you Wood.” He sneered

“In your dreams Flint.” Oliver shook his head

Flint stormed off thinking if only Oliver knew how true that was.



Part II/?
Marcus/Oliver
Word count: 360
PG? PG-13ish ( Smut is coming I swear)
Big ups to my Beta/Goddess/dork/ my fandom partner in crime: [info]chimerablack (she also gave me the prompt that started this)





“Hey Wood! How’s whittle, bitty Potter?” Flint howled at Oliver who was trudging thru the halls, headed back up to the Gryffindor common room.

“Shove off, Flint,” Oliver snapped.

“My, my, aren’t we a bit touchy. Looks like poor Gryffindor won’t be winning the cup this year,” Guffawed Flint, shaking his head. Something twisted in his stomach as he stared at a sopping wet Oliver Wood, who now stood before him quaking with rage.

Something about the way the water was dripping from Wood's hair and the way his uniform clung to his body made Marcus’ stomach twist and flip-flop and brought horrid ideas to his mind. Ideas that he didn’t want to have. Ideas that he normally left behind in his bed. Ideas he pretended he didn’t have. Before he could shake the thoughts from his mind, he felt a flash of hot pain run thru his face and felt rather then heard a loud crack that he was sure was the sound of his nose breaking.

“Arrrghh, aruss ‘ol,” Flint stumbled backwards, throwing his hands up and waiting for another blow.

“Don’t talk about my team like that, and don’t ever fucking look at me like that again,” Oliver said.

“Wut eh fuchk are you talking about Wood?” Flint mumbled thru his hand.

“Looking at me like some girl looks at the lead singer of The Weird Sisters.” Oliver snickered.

“What…? I was not. I am no bender, you hear me? I am no bender! You may think every bloke in this place wants you, but you're wrong. I don’t want you. I am not a bloody pillow biter, and even if I was, I wouldn’t want you.” Flint shoved past Oliver and took off like a bat out of hell toward the hospital wing.

“No bloody fucking way,” Oliver muttered to himself. “No fucking way in hell does Flint want me,” Oliver thought to himself as he leaned his back against the wall. His mind was filled with ideas about how he could use this information to make Marcus’s life a living hell, but then the occasional thoughts of what he could do to Marcus crept in.



Part III
Word Count: 655
Marcus/Oliver
PG-13



Marcus walked into Transfiguration and heard a group of Gryffindors snicker. He turned to see Oliver pretending to hit himself in the face with a book. Marcus promptly flipped Oliver the bird.

“Fucking asshole.” Marcus muttered under his breath as he took his seat.

“Five points from Slytherin for such a rude hand gesture, Mr. Flint.” McGonagall’s cool crisp voice drifted from behind his back.

Marcus tried to focus on the lesson. McGonagall was going over some insane things about turning non-living objects into living objects and how dangerous these spells were when they where done improperly or backfired.

Marcus felt a pair of eyes boring a hole into his back. He looked and Oliver was grinning at him and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. The look on Oliver’s face made Flint want to bust Wood’s jaw and/or snog the hell out of him.

Marcus scowled at Oliver and tried to return his focus to the lesson at hand. He had enough trouble focusing in class to begin with. Now with Oliver’s flirtations, concentrating was going to be damn near impossible. “Is he genuinely flirting with me? ...Or is he just messing with me?” Marcus asked himself, not sure which answer he wanted to be true. “I don’t like Oliver. I got all my cravings for blokes out last year with Adrian. ...Or at lest I thought I did.” Marcus was not a fan of where his internal monologue was taking him. Luckily, the class' dismissal shook the thoughts out of his head.

Marcus was pushing through the crowd of students in the hallway. He just wanted to get outside and away from everyone. Namely Oliver Wood. He shoved someone hard to get them out of his way. The figured turned with a slight grimace, then suddenly grinned.

“Can’t keep your hands off of me, can you Flint?” Oliver chuckled.

“Shut up before I beat you senseless, Wood.” Marcus snapped clenching his fists.

“Alright, alright! And you called me touchy the other day when you talked about my team. I think someone’s not very confident in their sexuality.” Oliver ruffled his hair and ran off.

Marcus felt the veins in his head thumping with anger. He really had to get out now. He tore toward the front door, venting some of his rage on a poor first year by grabbing the kid’s books and throwing them all the way down the hall.

Marcus stalked across campus stewing in vast amounts of loathing for Oliver Wood. He threw his bag underneath a tree and sat down. He figured the best way to clear his head of all thought was to try and do some homework. It worked every other time. Marcus pulled out his potions notes and started flipping through them. Even in his own short hand, the stuff didn’t make sense.

Marcus heard a soft laugh come from behind him. “Whoa, this makes what? Two, three times this month that I have seen you reading? That has got to be a record for you, Flint.” Marcus turned to see Oliver Wood walking up behind him, arms folded across his chest and a smartass grin playing on his face. Flint jumped to his feet, his notes falling to the ground.

“Shut it, Wood. Bloody shut your mouth, or I’ll shut it for you.” Marcus grabbed Oliver by the front of his robes and slammed him up against the tree causing him to wince and crunch up his face. But a moment later, a smile spread across his face as if this was the moment he had been waiting for.

“What…” Marcus’ words were cut off when Oliver grabbed his face and planted a fat kiss on the chaser's lips, pulling away with a loud smack. Marcus let go of Oliver and just stared dumbstruck at the Gryffindor who, smirking, shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered off toward the Quidditch pitch.

“See you later, Flint.”


Part IV
Word Count: 1,543
Marcus/Oliver
This Chapter is like a pirate it's rated RRRRRRRRRRR :D for boy touching hehehe
Hard R I guess.

Thanks to my muse, homegirl, friend and beta [info]chimaerablack



Marcus stood groggily at the top of the astronomy tower, looking through his telescope and trying to mark down his star chart at the same time. But his mind kept formulating plans of things he could do to make Wood pay for what he had done. “I am going to kill him. First I am going to beat the shit out of him. …Make him scream and beg…” He suppressed the thought that was going to follow screaming and begging because he wanted to keep it at anger and ignore any other emotions that where trying to connect themselves to the name Oliver Wood.

Marcus spent the week that followed planning revenge on the Gryffindor keeper. His mind reeled with extreme ideas of how to create pain in the life of Oliver Wood, but in the end he decided on a good old fashion beat down. He just needed to find him alone. During the time Marcus spent plotting, Oliver didn’t do much but make eyes at him and flash him that stupid, suggestive grin. ...Which was just as annoying as anything physical Oliver could do.

Marcus was feeling particularly stressed after a day of hard lessons and decided he would head out to the Quidditch pitch for a stress relieving flight. Marcus saw a figure lugging something to the equipment closest. A second later he realized that it was Oliver Wood cleaning up after the Gryffindor Quidditch practice. His stomach did a barrel roll as Marcus’s eyes roamed over Oliver who was only clad in a black under shirt, which seemed half a size too small, and his tan riding breeches. Flint shook the thoughts of attraction out of his mind and charged the keeper, shoving him hard enough that Oliver dropped the crate on Marcus’s foot.

“You Git!” Marcus yelped, hopping on one foot for a moment.

“I’m the git? I’m the git? You’re the one that shoved me!” Oliver grunted, cheeks still flushed from practice and hair matted with sweat.

“Yeah, well, you won’t leave me alone,” Marcus yelled, shoving Oliver again. “You keep following me around, staring at me, smiling at me, and fucking touching me. How many times do I have to tell you not to fucking touch me?” Marcus punched Oliver, knocking the wind out of him. “And you fucking kissed me! I told you I wasn’t a bender.” He shoved Oliver causing him to take a few steps back. Marcus could see a flash of anger behind the keeper’s eyes. “Why aren’t you fighting back!?” Marcus spat.

“I don’t want to fight you.” Oliver shrugged. “But if you hit me one more time, I bloody will kill you,” Oliver growled running a hand through his hair.

“That’s bullshit.” Marcus pointed at Oliver. “You’ve been picking at every one of my last, goddamn nerves, and you don’t want to fight me?” Marcus’s voice shuttered with annoyance.

“I like the way you look and sound when you get all worked up.” Oliver smirked.

“Stop that,” Marcus barked.

“Stop what?” Oliver raised an eyebrow.

“Smirking, smiling and looking at me in that way.” Marcus furrowed his brows, making him look far more mean than he actually was.

“Don’t smile at me, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t call me a bender, don’t fucking kiss me!” Oliver mocked. “God, Flint, no wonder no wants to hang around with you! All you do is bitch and moan.” Oliver shook his head.

“I do not bitch and moan. I just don’t want YOU touching me.” Marcus’s eyes roamed over Oliver’s body. He tried to maintain the scowl that was painted on his face, but it wavered. He prayed that Oliver didn’t notice. But as his eyes drifted back to the Gryffindor’s face, Flint knew he must have because he had the fucking, dumb smile on his face. But what concerned Flint was the predatory glint he swore he saw in Oliver’s eyes. Marcus swallowed hard and furrowed his brows as Oliver took a few steps closer to him.

“What are you doing Wood?” Marcus growled.

“Nothing,” Oliver said nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. Marcus felt frozen on the spot as Oliver leaned in and kissed him. “Punch him, push him away, run away…” Flint's mind screamed at him, but his body wouldn’t let him. He felt Oliver start to put his arm around his waist, but the keeper hesitated as if fearful that Marcus would punch him. When Marcus didn’t, he started to pull him closer and tried deepening the kiss. This kiss was far different from the first one. It wasn’t hard, sloppy and teasing; it was almost soft and longing, as if Oliver had been waiting for this chance. Like he was trying to make up for earlier. Oliver pulled away for a moment and took a breath, leaning his forehead against Marcus’s. “Now’s my chance. I should run, I should punch him, I should kick him.” Marcus thought, but his body wouldn’t let him, and Oliver was already leaning in to kiss him again, placing a hand on the side of his face. “Why the hell does he seem so bloody nervous? Probably because I just tried to beat the shit out of him for that earlier kiss and for just looking at me wrong. Well, if I am going to do this…” Marcus opened his mouth a bit to scrape his teeth across Oliver’s bottom lip, getting a grunt from the keeper and causing him to press his body closer to Marcus’s. “If this was going to happen again, I might save that for later.” As he thought this, Marcus realized that he was already half hard and could feel Oliver’s arousal pressing into his “Please don’t let him notice.” Marcus’s mind pleaded with whatever higher power that might be listening, but Oliver must have noticed. He felt a small grin ghost over Oliver’s lips for a shadow of a moment before doing what Marcus thought was impossible - pulling him even closer.

Oliver moved the hand that was resting on Flint’s face down the front the chaser’s gray sweater at a painfully slow pace, stopping at the waist of Marcus’s trousers for a moment before starting to move in-between them. He stopped right on top of the bulge that was trapped inside Marcus’s pants, which were suddenly starting to feel a bit too tight.

A groan escaped the Slytherin’s mouth. “That should have come out as 'Stop, Wood. Get the fuck off of me, Wood. I am not a goddamn pillow biter like you, Wood.'” Oliver moved his lips from Marcus’s mouth to his neck.

“You’ve…fucking…done…this before…you goddamn pillow bi…oh god.” Marcus tried to huff out an insult, but failed because, at that moment, Oliver’s palm moved across his hard on.

“Maybe.” The keeper breathed across Marcus’s neck before biting it softly and running his hand against Marcus’s groin again.

“Always knew there was something queer about you.” Marcus grunted, and he felt Oliver’s tongue move along his stubbled chin.

“Takes one to know one. …I am going to shut you up now.” Oliver laughed as he pressed his lips to Marcus’s, his hands continuing their work on Marcus's cock.

It had been so long since anyone else had gotten him off; he wasn’t sure how long he would last. He buried his face in the keepers shoulder to try and stifle his moans “Damn, Wood has good hands…Well, I guess it’s kind of a requirement to play Qui...” The thought was suddenly lost as Marcus came in a crushing orgasm, causing him to bite down hard on Oliver’s shoulder. He was sure there would be a bruise there. Hell, maybe he’d even broken the skin, but right now he didn’t care, considering he had just come in his pants like a goddamn first year.

He stayed leaning against Oliver until he felt fingers running through his hair, the soft kisses being placed on his neck. That was just getting way too personal and attached for Marcus’s liking. He pulled away and muttered a cleaning spell which did little good considering he had never been really good at them.

“I loathe you, Wood,” Marcus muttered.

“No you don’t.” Oliver smiled, straightening his shirt and picking up the equipment trunk. “And that’s a fancy word. Have you been reading again?” Oliver smiled once more. There was no trace of malice in his voice. It was coming off more as playful now.

“Screw you.”

“Maybe next time?” Oliver wiggled his eyebrows.

“What in God's name is that supposed to mean?” Marcus grumbled.

“You’re a big bad 7th year. You should be able to figure it out.” Oliver laughed and kissed him quickly on the lips before leaving to finish cleaning up.

A crisp December wind blew across the grounds, and Marcus wasn’t sure if it was the wind that made him shudder or the thought that Oliver might not be being sarcastic.

“Great fucking way to start my holiday. Just hope he isn’t sticking around over the break,” Marcus thought, kicking a few rocks as he headed back up to the castle. He wasn’t in the mood for flying anymore. All he wanted was a nap and maybe some dinner.

Part V
Word Count: 685
Marcus/Oliver
Hard R maybe a little Harder then that...;) Wanking.



Flint stalked moodily down the stairs, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his head hanging. A few strands of his normally, neatly combed hair falling shaggily across his forehead.

The castle smelled warm and inviting because of all the cooking going on for the end of term feast. He wasn't even sure he wanted to go anymore. He felt betrayed by his mind, his body and what he assumed was his heart. Marcus muttered the password to the common room and pushed past the clumps of students who where talking excitedly about going home for the holidays.

Marcus pushed into the dorm room and pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a jumper that didn't smell like Oliver Wood. He shoved the clothes under his bed, not even wanting to look at them again. He laid down and folded his arms under his head.

"Oi, Flint, why ain't ya packed mate?" A voice came from the doorway.

Marcus sat up on his elbows and looked at the dirty blond figure leaning into door frame.

"Not going home this year." Marcus shrugged. "This is all his fault," A small voice in Marcus's head said. "If you two hadn't mucked around last year, you wouldn't be having these thoughts about guys," The little voice added.

"Why not?" Adrian raked his hand through his hair and stretched.

"Parents are goin' on holiday this year." Marcus laid back across the bed again.

"Is that why you're in such a shit mood, then?" Adrian laughed. "Because you know, I have stayed behind before, and it ain't all that bad. Hell the food is better then my mum's, but I'd never tell her that." He shook his head and smiled.

"Yeah, that is why I am in a shit mood," Marcus muttered, sliding his hands down his face. "That and I am starting to lust after Oliver "fucking" Wood," he thought.

"Well, stuffing your face should make you feel better. The feast is about to start, so lets go grab some seats." Adrian nodded to the door.

"Alright, then." Marcus slid off the bed and walked with one of his only friends down to the Great Hall for supper.

Later that night, Marcus's eyes shot open. He was burrowed deep within his blankets and had been brought of his sleep by a very vivid dream involving the Gryffindor keeper. He squirmed uncomfortably due to the growing erection in his boxers. Marcus squeezed his eyes closed. "I will not wank off to Oliver Wood, I will not wank off to Oliver Wood, I will not wank off to Oliver Wood." He kept repeating this to no avail. His mind flashing back to the dream where Oliver's hands were inside his pants instead of just on top of them; a few other lewd flashes of a mouth here and a hand there.

He inhaled deeply. "Fuck it," he muttered under his breath and slid his hand down his chest, hesitating at the waistband of his boxers because of who was causing his current state of arousal. He buried his face into his pillow and bit his lip as he wrapped his hand around his stiff cock, grunting as he slid his hand up, his thumb running over the tip causing him to grunt low in his throat. Why couldn't this affliction wash over him the next night when the dorm was emptied out for the holidays? He moved his hand slowly, swallowing a groan trapped in his throat. He could feel a bead of sweat running down his brow as he rocked into his hand, visions of Oliver flooding his mind. He suddenly wished that it was Oliver's hands and lips working over him instead of his own. The image of Oliver's lips on him sent his orgasm quaking through him. He wiped his hand across his sheets and rolled over onto his back, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at the green canopy.

"Fuck…maybe I am a bender," he muttered under his breath. "I still hate Wood, though," he added as more of an after thought.


If you have any ideas for this feel free to share. Also I will be moving fics over here over the course of the week. Including some Remus/Sirius stuff. But mostly Marcus/Oliver.
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