DRABBLE - Untitled (Cedric/Oliver)
Yeahh. Uhm. Hi.
My name's Kim. I'm an awkward junior-going-senior high school student and I ship many fandoms. I stick with slash but once in a while, I venture into the het world. But yeah.
I don't really know why I didn't post this fic earlier, since I completed it around... end of May-ish. Yeah, I'm just kind of weird.
and all sorts of awkward.
Anyway! On with the fic?
Table Prompt: Ink blots.
Pairing: Cedric Diggory/Oliver Wood.
Author: ME! =]
Rating: PG. Completely harmless.
Word Count: 433
Summary: Read to find out what happens...
Link to Prompt Table: is hereeee.
Well.
This was rather unpleasant.
Ink.
Down his shirt.
Cedric frowned.
He would have to endure a double period of Charms before the Hufflepuff would be able to return to his dorm and switch his crisp, just laundered, pure white, collared shirt.
And this had been his favorite one too.
Cursing himself for his carelessness and stupidity as a first year, Cedric attempted to remove the offending stain by wiping it down with his robe sleeve.
Big mistake.
The stain only grew larger, as Cedric’s hopeless attempt to wash out the mark revealed a much larger smudge.
Great; exactly what he needed.
Cedric wasn’t particularly adept with cleaning spells which offered him no comfort. This was stupid. How hard could it have been to keep his clothing spotless? God this was stupid.
The first-year could only crash his forehead into his desk. Honestly, he had been so unbelievably brainless.
He was never going to survive Hogwarts at this rate.
As Professor Flitwick droned on, he could feel himself start to sweat - his short, gold bangs matted onto his sticky forehead and the collar of his now-stained shirt suddenly became sharp angles and stiff edges. These trivial problems only added to the forever-growing irritations that irked Cedric. He could feel his cheeks flushing a rosy pink the way they did only when he felt truly humiliated.
Cedric watched as the ceiling fan turned in a clockwise direction, counting the wooden blades as they rotated. He tried to minimalize the attention he drew to himself; tried to look inconspicuous.
How could he do this to himself? Why did he think that he needed more embarrassment?
As Flitwick concluded his lecture, Cedric made a frantic dash towards the exit so he could finally switch out of his shirt-with-the-most-noticeable-ink-stain-on-it, but as he rounded the corner, racing down hallway after hallway…
Cedric crashed into something… or someone, he wasn’t quite sure. He scrambled off the floor, his cheeks filling with an even deeper shade of red when he realized who it was that he ran into.
“Sorry there, lad. Didn’t see you!”
There Oliver Wood stood, all lean muscle and mega-watt smiles, as if Cedric didn’t just run full speed into him. Cedric immediately lowered his eyes to the ground, wishing it would open up and swallow him whole.
“Sorry, ‘S my fault really,” mumbled Cedric. He couldn’t look Wood in the eye, especially not after the way Cedric fantasized about the fourth-year day in, day out.
“No problem, Cedric. See you out on the quidditch pitch!”
At this point, all Cedric could think was:
Worse. Day. Ever.
My name's Kim. I'm an awkward junior-going-senior high school student and I ship many fandoms. I stick with slash but once in a while, I venture into the het world. But yeah.
I don't really know why I didn't post this fic earlier, since I completed it around... end of May-ish. Yeah, I'm just kind of weird.
and all sorts of awkward.
Anyway! On with the fic?
Table Prompt: Ink blots.
Pairing: Cedric Diggory/Oliver Wood.
Author: ME! =]
Rating: PG. Completely harmless.
Word Count: 433
Summary: Read to find out what happens...
Link to Prompt Table: is hereeee.
Well.
This was rather unpleasant.
Ink.
Down his shirt.
Cedric frowned.
He would have to endure a double period of Charms before the Hufflepuff would be able to return to his dorm and switch his crisp, just laundered, pure white, collared shirt.
And this had been his favorite one too.
Cursing himself for his carelessness and stupidity as a first year, Cedric attempted to remove the offending stain by wiping it down with his robe sleeve.
Big mistake.
The stain only grew larger, as Cedric’s hopeless attempt to wash out the mark revealed a much larger smudge.
Great; exactly what he needed.
Cedric wasn’t particularly adept with cleaning spells which offered him no comfort. This was stupid. How hard could it have been to keep his clothing spotless? God this was stupid.
The first-year could only crash his forehead into his desk. Honestly, he had been so unbelievably brainless.
He was never going to survive Hogwarts at this rate.
As Professor Flitwick droned on, he could feel himself start to sweat - his short, gold bangs matted onto his sticky forehead and the collar of his now-stained shirt suddenly became sharp angles and stiff edges. These trivial problems only added to the forever-growing irritations that irked Cedric. He could feel his cheeks flushing a rosy pink the way they did only when he felt truly humiliated.
Cedric watched as the ceiling fan turned in a clockwise direction, counting the wooden blades as they rotated. He tried to minimalize the attention he drew to himself; tried to look inconspicuous.
How could he do this to himself? Why did he think that he needed more embarrassment?
As Flitwick concluded his lecture, Cedric made a frantic dash towards the exit so he could finally switch out of his shirt-with-the-most-noticeable-ink-stain-on-it, but as he rounded the corner, racing down hallway after hallway…
Cedric crashed into something… or someone, he wasn’t quite sure. He scrambled off the floor, his cheeks filling with an even deeper shade of red when he realized who it was that he ran into.
“Sorry there, lad. Didn’t see you!”
There Oliver Wood stood, all lean muscle and mega-watt smiles, as if Cedric didn’t just run full speed into him. Cedric immediately lowered his eyes to the ground, wishing it would open up and swallow him whole.
“Sorry, ‘S my fault really,” mumbled Cedric. He couldn’t look Wood in the eye, especially not after the way Cedric fantasized about the fourth-year day in, day out.
“No problem, Cedric. See you out on the quidditch pitch!”
At this point, all Cedric could think was:
Worse. Day. Ever.