#oliver wood prompts

[redheadspark]

hi!! can you do number 3 with oliver wood? possibly a frenemies to lovers kinda vibe (they're friends who are quidditch rival captains and they're insanely competitive yet secretly in love with each other)??

A/N - This is great for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this!

Walls

Summary - You and Oliver were two peas in a pod, in more ways than one

Warnings - Just fluff

“Let’s see the damage,”

“It’s not that bad, I swear—“

“Now, Wood,”

“I hate it when ya use my name on me,”

You eyed him as he finally gave him, pulling off the practice sweater he was wearing to show the thin shirt that was underneath, along with the scattering of bruises that were along his skin and near his collarbone.  You tutted, walking around the bed he was perched on and seeing more damage from the match he played littered on his skin. 

“Oli…”

“It’s nothin’, luv,” He reassured you as he saw the look of concern on your face, the mixtures of blacks and blues that were etched on his skin like a brand, “Remember my third year when I broke my arm?”

“I’m peeved with Trent when he slugged that blunger at you,”

“Aye, and yet no one suspected that you and I were dancing around each other then with how you reacted, huh?”

You threw a glare at him, seeing him faintly smile as you then turned on your heel to grab a few of the ointments that you had stored in your bag, knowing that you were going to have to help him out after the brutal match you saw him in.  Of course, the last thing you wanted for him was to be hurt.

Even when he was on the opposing team.

You two were not meant to be together, not when you were the Ravenclaw Captain and Oliver was Gryffindor.  In fact, your teams were the biggest rivals to each other that year, all thanks to their captains.  You and Oliver being completive seemed to be a tame way to explain how your team was so good, tame, and positive.  In fact, you and Oliver were at each other’s throats plenty of times: fighting over practice time on the pitch, throwing jabs at one another during matches against each other, and even giving each other sneers while running to each other in the hall.  

Even one afternoon in the early fall, when a small heat wave came through the highlands when your team was coming off the pitch.  Oliver, leading the Gryffindor teams, saw you grimace as you walked past them and tugged at your practice sweater.

“I’m so hot”

“Loving the confidence,” He said under his breath for you to hear, though the rest of the team heard and laughed.  

“Oh shut up!”  You growled at him while he passed and rolled his eyes.  You both loved, craved even, the sport of quidditch.  Just to think of anyone standing in your way would be a stupid decision, and yet Oliver was the one you threw off your game.

But in the best way.

Neither of you knew when it happened, or even how.  But there was an underlying affection and mutual respect for one another from the moment you two met as captains.  Although you could be stubborn and Oliver could be hard-headed, you both admired the drive in one another and the fire in your bellies.  Almost like you both were relieved that there was another that could match the drive, the thirst to win large 

One thing led to another so to speak. One minute you two were arguing nose to nose after a very close match, the next minute Oliver had you pressed against the wall hidden away from sight at the stadium with his hands on your waist and kissing you deeply while you tugged his robes off and rang your fingers in his hair.

“Let’s get some of this on, to minimize the bruising,” You explained, getting a few drops of ointment on the gauze you had to dab along the damaged skin.  Oliver squinted from the contact, but he remained still as you were wiping the ointment along the. Spots were seen as your eyes were concentrating on your work but looking rather soft and almost hurt.  You were hurt, seeing what happened to Oliver on the topic and yet not being able to stop It from happening.  

An intense game against Slytherin House, one of the biggest games to watch in the season.  Ravenclaw was in second when it came to the standings, Gryffindor taking the lead barely while Slytherin was in third and Huflelpuff dead last.  You knew the Slytherin Captain was not a fair layer, in fact, he was prone to cheating.  You’ve played against them a few times and almost got in trouble once or twice from his ruthless behavior in a room, and yet he was able to stay on a Captain.  But in this match, you were especially worried for Oliver, you two were freshly dating and still trying to keep your relationship under wraps.  Oliver knew you were going to worry, he simply hugged you before he left for the Gyrffindor locker rooms and told you it was just a game.

And yet there he was, perched on a table, littered in bruises and seeming calm about it.

“Hey,” he hummed, reaching over to take your hand in his own and lace your fingers together.  You paused on your work on him, feeling him take a long inhale as you were watching a particularly large bruise on his neck, “I'm fine.  I’ve been worse in games, you know that,”

“He had a vendetta against you,” you said in a bite, dabbing a bit more ointment on his bruises as you went on, “We know he pays dirty and does what it takes to win. He went too far today,”

“I’ve seen him do worse,” Oliver commented, you looking at him.  His brown eyes twinkled in the light of the room, looking so gentle at you even after taking a major beating on the pitch sometime before.  You loved that about him, the competitiveness would switch off in him as soon as he would land on the ground with both feet.  You wished you could do that most of the time, Oliver made it look so easy.  

He leaned in a bit more, almost being nose to nose with you as he searched your eyes with his own, and voice low but light, “I’m gonna be okay,”

You breathed in deeply, nodding to show that you were surrendering to the worries that you had about him.  It was always a fight, when either one of you would get hurt or would be pushed too far.  But in the end, you both cared for one another far too much to let it be damaged.  

You two had one more year together at Hogwarts before being in the real world, already making plans to move in together and play professionally.  Not caring about other students finding out about your secret relationship, not needing to hide it in the shadows, or having private dates.  Being able to hold hands in the open, to kiss each other when you wanted.  At this point in your relationship, it was a dream.  

Oliver tucked you in close and hugged you tightly, kissing your hair over and over as you clung to him.  He grew on you and became your safe space, someone to talk to you about everything and anything that was on your mind.  You need held back with him and he was the same with you.  It was still surprising that two stubborn quidditch lovers with high walls around their hearts would find one another.

And let the walls crumble down.

The End

July Prompt Session

tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[etherealsymphony]

Percy entering Hogwarts wearing a Hufflepuff quidditch jacket: Oh Marcus, Oli! There you both are. Shall we go to lunch now?

Marcus: The fuck are you wearing?

Oliver: Get that off your body right now.

Percy: What are you… oh this? Boys, Cedric let me use it cause it’s pouring out there! Calm down.

Boys: FIRST NAME BASIS?

Marcus: alright Oli let’s go we have to kill someone

Percy: Wait no!!!

[glittervame]

You're just like him

"You're a filthy cheater"

This post is going to be part of the Hogmarch Fandom challenge by @thatdammchickennugget check it out if you want to know more! I didn't proofread so sorry for the spelling errors or if it doesn't make any sense, love ya! <3

Oliver wood x Fem!Reader Warnings: Angst (No named person), Fred and George being little shits, Smut, this has basically no plot it's all over the place

The sun was setting, painting the sky a fiery orange as it dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with anticipation, and the stands were packed to the brim with students, all of them clad in their house colors. It was the final Quidditch match of the season, and the fate of the House Cup hung in the balance. Gryffindor and Slytherin, two of the most talented and determined teams in recent memory, were set to face off in what promised to be a brutal and intense battle.

As the players took to the pitch, Oliver and Y/n locked eyes for a brief moment. There was a flicker of something in their gaze, a mixture of determination, anger, and perhaps even a hint of desire. They knew that this match wasn't just about winning the House Cup; it was also about proving their worth to each other.

The game began with a blur of broomsticks and flying balls, both teams moving at breakneck speed. Oliver and Y/n circled each other like two snarling animals, the two captains waiting for the other to make a mistake. It wasn't long before the tension between them boiled over. During a tight turn, Oliver aggressively rammed into Y/n, sending her spiraling out of control. The crowd gasped as she careened toward the ground, but at the last moment, Oliver leaned forward on his broom, reaching out a hand.

Y/n snarled, baring her teeth, but grabbed onto Oliver's hand. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and for a brief moment, they were locked together. The crowd grew silent as they stared at the two captains, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills. Finally, with a jerk, Oliver pulled Y/n back onto her broom, and they continued the game.

But the tension between them only grew. Every time Oliver passed her, he'd throw her a venomous glare, daring her to try something. And every time Y/n would brush against him, she'd feel the heat emanating from his skin, the thunder of his heartbeat. The air around them crackled with anger and desire, and the game began to take on a new intensity.

The final score was close, with Gryffindor barely eking out a victory. As the Snitch flew into the hands of the Gryffindor seeker, the crowd erupted into cheers, Y/n barely registered the noise. She dismounted her broom as the Gryffindors flood onto the field, congratulating their team. Her eyes met Oliver's once more, and this time there was no anger, no desire. There was only hatred.

She stormed off the field, not bothering to wait for the post-game ceremony. She started barking orders at her team, her voice cold and hard as ice. But underneath the surface, she was seething. Oliver's touch had thrown her off balance, made her feel things she didn't want to feel. He had won, and now she wanted nothing more than to make him pay.

As the Gryffindors filed back into the castle, Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for Y/n, but she was nowhere to be found. He shrugged it off, figuring she was just angry about the loss. He didn't realize how right he was until he reached the common room and found her waiting for him in the shadows.

Her eyes were blazing, her chest heaving with anger. "You think you're so great, don't you?" she spat. "You think you can just take what you want?" Oliver stared at her, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about, Y/n," he said, taking a step back. "I just played a clean game."

"Don't lie to me!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. "You know exactly what you did. You pushed me off my broom, just like third year all over agian! You made me feel weak. You made me look weak" - she paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing - "in front of everyone!"

Oliver felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt her, hadn't meant to make her feel that way. But he couldn't admit it now. Not with her standing there, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "I was just playing the game, Y/n," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not personal."

She laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Of course it's not personal," she scoffed. "That's why you've been looking at me like that all day. That's why you've been trying to get under my skin." Her gaze bored into him, searching for some sign of weakness. "You're just as bad as he was. Just as arrogant and just as cruel."

The mention of him sent a shiver down Oliver's spine. He knew who she was talking about: the boy who had bullied them both for years, the boy who had made them feel helpless and alone. He was the reason Oliver had joined the Gryffindor quidditch team in the first place, the reason he had become the captain he was today. "I'm not him," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not like him."

But she didn't believe him. "You are," she insisted. "Using whatever you can for a fucking win, you're just as obsessed with quidditch as he was, gods, if you wern't such a goody two shoes you would've let Fred and George get rid of half of my team with that stupid candy!" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, Oliver felt a pang of guilt so sharp it took his breath away.

Fith year Fred anf George had gotten themselves some extra zonko's candy and diped it in a boils potion to prank the slytherins. They mailed it for the team before a match but some of the first years had gotten to it first. The next coupple of weeks you could tell exactly who ate the candy by the scaring on the kids arms before Madam Pompfrey heald it.

He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that it hadn't been his intention to hurt her. That he had just been trying to play a fair game. But something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of the way she had looked at him, her expression filled with such hatred and anger. Maybe it was the fear of pushing her further away. Whatever it was, he remained silent.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy like a curtain. Oliver could feel her gaze boring into him, could see the anger radiating from her every pore. He knew that if he didn't say something soon, this moment would become a permanent rift between them. But what could he possibly say that would make things better?

"If you had won fair and square this wouldn't be such a big deal Wood-" calling him by his last name stung, "but, you made me look like a fool in front of my house, and my parents, gods, I hope you're happy with yourself Wood, You're a filthy fucking cheater" she hissed, tears falling down her cheeks, but she didn't seem to notice them.

Oliver winced at the sound of his last name on her lips. He hated the way it made him feel, like he was just a reminder of everything she had gone through. He took a step forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but then thought better of it. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way," he said quietly. "It's just a game, Y/n. We both know it's not personal."

She laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Of course it's not personal," she snorted. "That's why you pushed me off my broom. That's why you kept knocking me down. It's all just a big game to you." Her gaze darted around the room, her eyes wild with anger and hurt. "But it's not just a game to me. It's my life." She takes in a sharp breath, "I have a legacy to live up to Wood; and you just got in my way"

Ah yes, Slytherins and their bloodlines...Y/n family had come from powerfull witches and wizards. Purebloods. After going to hogwarts they had either gon to work in a powerful position (Mostly her dads side) or playing for a Quidditch team (Moms side). It was in her blood to do great things and everyone knew that, makeing the pressure to live up to that alot bigger.

Oliver felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He really hadn't. But he couldn't help but feel that she didn't understand. Quidditch wasn't just his life; it was the only thing he had ever been good at. It was the one thing that had kept him going after everything he had been through. And now that he was finally captain, he couldn't just let some rival team come along and take it away from him.

He opened his mouth to try and explain, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he forced a small smile. "Look, I get it. Quidditch means a lot to you. It means a lot to me too. But we both know we can't change what happened out there today. All we can do is move forward and try to be better." He took another step forward, his voice softening. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Y/n. I really am. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Find me later Wood" and with that she turned on her heels and walked away. He took that as a small win, she didn't yell at him or hex him either.

The next time their paths crossed was at a Slytherin common room party, a few weeks later. It wasn't a formal event, just a get-together with some friends from different houses. Oliver knew Y/n was going to be there, and he had debated whether or not to show up himself. In the end, he decided that he owed it to her to try and make amends, even if it was just a little.

He spotted her across the room, laughing with a group of her friends. She looked beautiful, as always, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. For a moment, Oliver felt a pang of regret for the way things had gone between them. He wished he could go back in time and change it, make things better. But he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to move forward.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to walk over to her. "Hey, Y/n," he said, trying to sound casual. "Mind if I, uh, join you?"

She looked up, her expression guarded. "I suppose," she said slowly. "What do you want, Wood? Why's the little lion wondering around the snake den?"

Oliver winced inwardly at the way she said his last name. It was like a dagger to the heart. "Look, I just wanted to apologize again for what happened during the match. I shouldn't have pushed you off your broom. It was a stupid move, and I regret it." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I know we're both competitive, but there's no need for things to get personal."

Y/n studied him for a moment, her expression softening just the tiniest bit. "You know, Oliver, I've been thinking about what you said. You're right. There's no need for it to be personal. We're both just trying to do our best, you know?" She looked away, playing with the hem of her dress. "I guess I've been acting like a jerk, too. I'm sorry for that."

Oliver felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He hadn't expected her to be so understanding. "Thanks, Y/n. I really appreciate that. And I'm sorry for pushing things too far. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment, you know?" He paused, chuckling softly. "We're both a bit intense, I guess."

She laughed, the sound musical and genuine. "That we are. But I think we can both be better than that. We're both better than what we've been doing." Her expression turned more serious. "We're both good Quidditch players, Oliver. We both have a lot to offer. So let's just focus on that, okay?"

You know what they say, kiss and make up right?

The time they met after that was when slytherin had overbooked the quidditch pitch and Oliver was pissed off, as was his team. He had just gotten done telling the head of the house how they were supposed to practice if they couldn't get the pitch when he heard a soft voice calling out to him. It was Y/n.

"Little lion got here a little to late?" she fake pouts, "That's too bad" she shrugs and sits on the edge of the pitch. "Sorry for over booking the pitch, we were training our new seeker" she crooned, "Our last one got a little sick…" The two slytherins behind her snicker.

Someone "accedently" put a few drops of eye drops in his pumkin juice early this week...

"Well, I hope they feel better soon," Oliver says, his tone neutral. "I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe we could practice together or something. That way, we can both get the time we need." He hesitates, then adds, "You know, if you want."

Y/n raised an eyebrow at him, her expression amused. "Oh? And what makes you think I'd want to practice with you, Wood?" She glanced at the two boys behind her, and they both sniggered again. "I'm sure we can manage just fine on our own."

Oliver grinned, feeling a little more confident now. "Oh, I'm sure you can. But I'm also sure that we could both learn a thing or two from each other. We're both good players, after all." He paused, then continued, "And it might be nice to get to know each other better, outside of the context of Quidditch."

Y/n considered his words for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Hmm…you might have a point there," she admitted reluctantly, "Now that I think about it though, less time you have to practice, bigger chance for us to win the cup" she grins, "Better luck next time" she pats his shoulder before walking away. George whispered to Fred swearing that he could see steam coming out of Olivers ears.

The quidditch locker room was a mess, as usual. Broken wands and battered bludgers littered the floor, and the stench of sweat and worn leather hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog. Y/n L/n, captain of the Slytherin team, sighed heavily as she sat down on one of the benches, her long hair falling over her face as she tugged at the collar of her sweat-soaked shirt. It had been a long day, and the season was only halfway through. She glanced around, noticing that Oliver R/lastname, captain of the Gryffindor team, was still in the locker room as well. They'd had a particularly brutal match that day, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the sight of him.

But before she could gather her thoughts, Oliver stood up from his own bench and started walking towards her. He looked just as tired and disheveled as she felt, and there was something in his expression that made her heart skip a beat. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, as he stopped in front of her and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Hey, L/n," he murmured softly. "You okay?"

For a moment, Y/n couldn't speak. Her brain felt like it had turned to mush, and her heart was racing. She knew they shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Finally, she managed to croak out a reply. "I'm… fine." Oliver's eyes searched hers, his expression intense. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and husky. And before she could respond, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

She could feel his erection pressed against her, and the realization sent a shiver down her spine. It had been so long since she'd been with anyone, and Oliver was the last person she expected to find herself wanting. But there was something about the way he kissed her, so desperate and demanding, that made her ache for him in a way she'd never thought possible. Her hands found their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. He moaned into the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, and she couldn't help but melt into his embrace.

As they kissed, their hands roamed over each other's bodies, seeking out pleasure in the heat of the moment. Oliver's fingers traced a path down her spine, making her shiver, while she gripped his hair, pulling him closer still. She could feel his erection pressing harder against her, and she knew she had to do something about it. She broke the kiss for a moment, panting heavily, and looked into his eyes. His pupils were so dilated she could hardly see the green. "Oliver," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I want you."

Without waiting for his reply, she straddled his lap, feeling the heat of his body against hers. Oliver's hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them through her sweat-soaked shirt. He groaned, and Y/n arched her back, reveling in the sensation. She reached down, unfastened his pants, and pulled his erection free. Oliver gasped as she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly. She leaned forward, kissing him again, and guided his length towards her. He thrust forward, pushing himself inside her, and she cried out, feeling him stretch her tightly.

They moved together in a frenzy, their bodies slamming together in time with their ragged breathing. The pain was replaced by a white-hot pleasure that coursed through her veins, making her lightheaded. Oliver's fingers dug into her hips, his nails leaving tiny half-moon marks in her skin. She could feel herself getting closer and closer, the orgasm building inside her, threatening to explode. And then, finally, it hit her, washing over her in a wave of pure ecstasy. She arched her back, crying out his name as her inner walls squeezed him in a powerful spasm. Oliver followed her over the edge, his body tense as he let out a hoarse cry and emptied himself inside her.

They collapsed together on the bench, panting heavily. The tension that had been building between them for weeks seemed to dissipate in that moment, leaving only the afterglow of their passionate encounter. Oliver reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead, his fingers trailing down her cheek before coming to rest on her chin. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm sorry I had to wait until now."

Y/n smiled up at him, feeling a shiver of desire run through her. "It was worth the wait," she whispered, running her fingers through his messy hair. "And we still have the rest of the season, you know." At that, Oliver laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made her heart skip a beat. "God, I can't wait to see what else you have in store for me," he said, kissing her softly.

Y/n knew she was utterly fucked. Her and Oliver? Fucked. Hell She just fucked Oliver.

🌟-I'll work on your request soon!

It's 3:50 right now and I have to leave for a trip in a few hours so i'll be away from my computer for a while!

Love you my children -💙

[augment-techs]

"You are enough." Jason x Tommy?

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

<3 omg please

YAY I actually think this is so cute I love perciver so much and they're hardly talked about. This is for @remuslupininskirts my favourite perciver fan <33

Percy's eyes were heavy and his head nodded forward as he tried to process the words on the parchment in front of him. His head was pounding and he was exhausted but he needed to do well on this test, so he pushed on.

"Love, are you still awake?" Percy hears a sleepy voice ask from his place at his desk.

"Yeah, I'll go to bed soon, I promise." he says quietly, his eyes never leaving the words of his textbook even though they are starting to blur together.

He hears shuffling behind him and all of a sudden, there are arms wrapped around his shoulder and a head resting ontop of his.

"Come on, Perce, you've been at it for hours." Oliver mutters into his hair and Percy sighs.

"I know, I know, but I'm almost done, I swear. You know how important this test is to me." Percy's shoulders slump.

"More important than cuddling with your boyfriend?" Percy doesn't even have to see Oliver's face to know that he's pouting and he smiles slightly.

"Come on, love, you'll do great tomorrow. Come and sleep." Oliver's arms tighten around him and Percy finally turns around to face his boyfriend who looks adorably sleepy with his bedhead.

"But Ollie-"

"Nope, no buts, you're coming to sleep so you incredibly handsome boyfriend can cuddle you." Oliver shakes his head and pulls Percy up in one quick motion and Percy stifles a laugh at how Oliver almost falls over from the act.

"Fine, you big oaf, but you have to wake me up when you go for quidditch practice in the morning so I can study some more, alright?" Oliver nods his head appeasingly and pulls Percy down onto the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Percy's lithe frame and burying his face in his neck.

"Thank you for worrying about me. " Percy smiles softly and strokes Oliver's hair and is met with the sound of snores in reply.

[babygirlhaljordan]

pspsps wanted to let u know i’m going to india and the wifi doesn’t work there… so if u have any fic recommendations for me to read. art for me to redraw, or prompts, you want me to write while i’m away! lmk! i got u

[minimindi]

Microfic May Day 15: everything & nothing

This is my closest word count to 50 yet!!!! I’ll get down to 50 words someday lol but it’s damn hard to write so little.

@microficmay

[schmem14]

August 10- Percy & Oliver

Summary: Percy's pretty sure he's not into women... he just has to do some research first. Prompts: Flourish & Blotts, Wizard's Chess Rating: T CW: None WC: 930

Read HERE on AO3

[wood-you-rather-challenge]

We’re kicking the challenge off today! Weeks 1 & 2 (March 1 - 15)

Wood You Rather for 2023 has officially started! We’re starting with Prompt Card #1, which has 4 prompt selections and a total of 8 individual prompts to choose from. You’ll notice prompt cards are themed this year, with this first card being inspired by all the words! A reminder that creators have the option to choose: 1 prompt or both prompts from a selection, a few prompts from various selections, all of the prompts, or none of them from this prompt card. You can also use any prompts from 2022 for this round. Your current prompt selections are:

1. Fight       OR       Flight

—

2. Grand Gestures     OR       Small Things

—

3. Giving       OR       Receiving

—

4. Vintage       OR       Modern

— All works can be posted to Wood You Rather’s 2023 open AO3 collection. If you would like your work to be shared or reblogged, don’t forget to tag @wood-you-rather-challenge and #woodyourather2023. Have fun, and we can’t to see all of your creations over the coming weeks!

[hpshipuary]

💖 HP Shipuary: Day 7 💖

Ships

Oliver Wood / Alicia Spinnet

Seamus Finnigan / Gilderoy Lockhart

Rose Weasley / Lavender Brown

BYO Ship

Fred Weasley / ?

Daphne Greengrass / ?

Rules • FAQs • Prompts • AO3 Collection

[sirhamburrger]

ᯤ feat. yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, hyoma chigiri, rin itoshi, seishiro nagi, kenyu yukimiya, ryusei shidou and oliver aiku ᯤ tags/cw: all characters are aged up, bit suggestive (shidou you freak), petnames ('sweetheart' in isagi's, 'love' in rin's, 'babe' in shidou's), rin is mean (affectionately), shidou being a freak in the minecraft bedsheets, but also really sweet, hopefully not that ooc, i have a semi-serious, semi-casual relationship with minecraft ᯤ a/n: no reason for this whatsoever no prompt no nothing just take this love child between me and my insomnia *shoves this into your arms and runs away* || divider by @sister-lucifer part 2 [rocket league ver with kuni, reo, karasu, sae]

yoichi isagi:

ᯤ is just kinda average at it. like he truly is just okay at it. ᯤ he’s so competitive though (he would ‘race you to that tree over there’ 😭 but he doesn’t know how to sprint so he always loses to you) ᯤ he likes the little sounds the eyes of ender make when you place them in the end portal frame ᯤ defeats the ender dragon with your help but makes you go ahead of him when exploring the nether ᯤ “hey uh sweetheart? why’s that green thing flashing white and making a noise” ᯤ favourite mob: chickens (they’re funny)

meguru bachira:

ᯤ he l o v e s minecraft so much it’s unbelievable (he was probably one of those kids who grew up playing it) ᯤ he loves trying out different hacks he sees on youtube. he knows that 99 percent of the time they don’t even work, but “there’s a 1 percent chance it will, and i’m feeling lucky today!” ᯤ lets you practice your shooting skills using his avatar as a dummy ᯤ cannot wire redstone for shit ᯤ tries to get the rarest (dumbest) in-game death messages ᯤ baabaabaachira experienced mid-life crisis while being attacked by tropical fish ᯤ favourite mob: cave spiders (they look scary in a cool way)

hyoma chigiri:

ᯤ plays for the mobs. will protect his lovelies with all his heart. ᯤ when he got his first minecraft dog, he built a little kennel made of cherry wood for it, only for it to fall into a pit of lava deep in the caves on day 5 ᯤ he cried for five hours ᯤ once you dyed all his sheep pink and he started to tear up just from looking at them ᯤ “hear me out, okay? i think we should get a pet axolotl.” and it’s legal in japan, so you do! (her name is hyoma jr) ᯤ has a huge minecraft zoo ᯤ favourite mob: parrots (they can sit)

rin itoshi:

ᯤ is mean to you at first. he’ll be like “why do you suck at this” and “i could do that too” ᯤ then he gets his hands on the controller and can’t figure out the controls for half an hour ᯤ “… love?” ᯤ “… yes, rin?” (you, amused) ᯤ “… how do you jump…” ᯤ its subtle charm does grow on him after a while. he plays on creative mode and just explores the server on a horse he named sugarcube ᯤ it’s cute watching him play (you send photos to sae) ᯤ favourite mob: sheep (all they do is eat grass and don’t bother you)

seishiro nagi:

ᯤ i will subvert expectations here and say that nagi doesn’t even play minecraft that much because he doesn’t like it ᯤ “such a hassle to play this game… there isn’t even any storyline you can just do whatever you want… and i don’t want to have to decide what to do” ᯤ he ends up finding a passion for building elaborate traps for you to walk into ᯤ absolute beast at parkour. he performs triple neos to perfection ᯤ if he’s a streamer he plays on twitch for the fans but he complains as he does it ᯤ favourite mob: bees (they’re just cute)

kenyu yukimiya:

ᯤ he doesn’t really play video games so understandably he gets off to a slow start ᯤ but once he gets the hang of things? he’s unstoppable. breezing through achievements like nobody’s business ᯤ he’s really excited about it too like “did you see that?? i just killed a zombie!” ᯤ it’s truly the culmination of 18 years of not touching a single game as a child/teen and now playing a sandbox game ᯤ feeling confident, he starts a hardcore world. (he dies from hunger.) ᯤ he's the kind to look up the most beautiful minecraft seed numbers, key them in meticulously and just take in how amazing they are ᯤ favourite mob: foxes, specifically the orange ones (he loves all things forest biome)

ryusei shidou:

ᯤ we all know he’s a very artistic kind of guy so he’d be geeking out over the textures and which colours would go best with each other ᯤ he doesn’t shower for a day because he’s playing creative (my lil stinky 🫶) ᯤ he builds the most beautiful multi storey houses!! and he’s like “if it were real we could live in there together 🥺“ ᯤ “why is the bedroom huge with like twenty beds…” (you, concerned) ᯤ “oh we’re gonna need space babe. for activities.” ᯤ but he doesn’t stop there; he learns how to make entire cities and landscapes and frankly they are masterpieces - think shovel241 (i freaking LOVE his videos they’re so satisfying) ᯤ favourite mob: endermen (he thinks they look badass)

oliver aiku: 

ᯤ meh he’s pretty good ᯤ raged when he first found out fall damage was a thing and again when he discovered hunger and drowning as death messages ᯤ is obsessed with speed runs and parkour for some reason (he’s really bad at both though) ᯤ is the guy who makes “100 MINECRAFT FACTS YOU DIDN’T KNOW” videos with his friends sendo and lorenzo ᯤ you once saw him set up an experiment to see how many blocks a llama can spit and died laughing ᯤ would absolutely kill you in-game just for the fun of it ᯤ favourite mob: cats (especially the black ones)

say hi to hyoma jr. it is not optional.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[redheadspark]

Can i Ask for an Oliver Wood x female reader, with promote 1 were reader is like very smart and they are like enemies to lovers or something. Only if you want of course😊

A/N - YAS! This will be cute for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Poke

Summary - You and Oliver were always at each other's necks....until now

Warnings - Just some cute fluff

“You can cut it with a knife,”

“You think so?”

“Come on, look at them!”

Ron looked over at the small argument that unfolded in front of them out on the lawn.  It was between you and Oliver Wood, two captains from rival teams that were bickering with each other on practice times on the pitch.  It was awkward mostly, since both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams were awkwardly waiting on the sidelines to see who was going to win the verbal spat between their Captains.  But this was no real shocker to either team nor was it the first time this has happened.

In fact, this was the fourth time this season alone.

“You’ve always hogged the pitch twenty minutes longer than what’s on the practice schedule, Wood!  You needed the extra time because your team’s sloppy?!”

“Come off it, Jones!  You must be that bored in counting the minutes until we leave the pitch to gloss up your maneuvers.  They’re pathetic!”

“Bloody hell, this is one the worst ones,” Rom grumble as he leaned against his broom that was propped up.  His twin brothers were overseeing with small looks of amusement on their faces, arms folded in front of themselves, and looking at their mannerisms and how close you both were at poking each other’s chest with rigid fingers.  Of course, to the others that were watching this weren’t seeing what the twins were seeing.  They were seeing two Captains who hated each other fight overtime on the pitch.

Where as the twins saw two Captains who had it bad for each other.

Ever since you became Captain of the Ravenclaw team Oliver was intimidated by you since you were sharp and had a great wit about Quidditch.  Like Oliver, you grew up on the sport and knew it far more than most of the students at Hogwarts, becoming a Chaser your second year and then Captain a few years later.  Although your love for Quidditch was not as intense as Oliver’s, it was still there and you were smart in your tactics and plays to make Raveclaw a challenging team to beat.  Gryffindor was the top competitor against them, not even Slytherin could handle themselves again Ravenclaw when you were the Captain.  But Oliver saw you as a threat, your eyes ever trained on your teammates and knowing how to stay a few steps ahead of others.  

Arguments between you two became a regular ritual, though it would get far too heated at times about Flitwick and McGonagall having to have talks with you two.  Of course, you felt bad that you were making such a scene, you knew better since you were representing your House.  Then again, you were letting someone like Oliver get under your skin and fester there.  His stubbornness, his fiery temper, and his thirst to win, it always rubbed you wrong.  It didn’t make things better that you were also harboring a crush on him.  His handsomeness in his face and smile, his playing ability in Quidditch, it gave you butterflies when you didn’t really want it.

So your relationship with Oliver was…complicated?

“I bet you 5 galleons she pokes his chest,” George said to his twin as you and Oliver were still arguing back at forth.

“You’re on,” Fred replied as he shook George’s hand.  The rest of the players were watching and almost talking to each other as there was a pause in your argument, finally.  You and Oliver were nearly nose to nose, but there was a sense of ease then as you both were taking a breath.  You realized that arguing with him was not going to make things better, only worse.  You inhaled deeply, looking over at your players in their blue robes and you sighed.  The last thing you wanted to do was make this worse for them, and perhaps this was an eye-opening moment for you as you looked back at Oliver.  He saw the shift in you too, the fire in your eyes was no longer there and you were simply yourself.

“Go ahead,” You replied, Oliver’s eyes going a bit wide as you picked up your broom that was by your boots on the grassy ground, “We’ll go over plays and practice tomorrow,”

Oliver was shocked that you gave in easily, you gripped your room tightly in your fingerless gloves as you were about to walk away.  He reached over and placed a hand on your arm, not in a grip but just a simple press of his fingers along your blue robes.  You looked at the contact, seeing his fingers near your wrist and how you could almost feel the heat of his skin through your robe.

“You…you sure?” He asked, his voice low and almost uncertain as the heat in his voice was also gone. You two locked eyes again, close enough for him to count your freckles and for you to see the specs in his brown eyes as you nodded.  Now that you were close, you were feeling butterflies and almost weak in the knees. 

“It’s not a big deal, honestly.  We’ll come out to practice tomorrow, don’t worry about…Oliver,”

Oliver felt his own heart skip a beat from you saying his name, and he gulped and nodded his head slowly.  You smiled, for the first time at him and he softly smiled too.  But before he could walk over to his own team, you gently poked his chest with one finger.

“Make sure you tell your Beaters to not be sloppy with their swings.” You advised him, then turned on your heels to walk off. Your team followed you, asking you what happened and why you had the change of heart as Oliver stood there in shock and looked on at your backside.  Without him realizing it, he touched the spot on his chest where your finger touched, gasping like a fish.  

George grinned, looking over at Fred with his hand out, “You owe me 5,”

“Shut it,”

The End.

January Prompt Session

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[solarmorrigan]

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

[wweasleyhp]

"Please tell me again why I love you."

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting Also sorry for the lack of fiction recently. I've been suffering from the great disease that is writer's block. Anyways, hope you enjoy this :)

I was in the corridors talking to Angelina and Katie. They were talking about the upcoming Quidditch match and how they need to prepare. Angelina was rambling on about it while Katie looked tired. Honestly Angelina had become Oliver Wood 2.0 ever since he graduated Hogwarts.

"Speaking of Quidditch, incoming ginger ahead," Angelina said.

I didn't even have to look to see who it was, his arms immediately circled my waist.

"Hello darling," Fred smiled, pecking my cheek.

"Hey," I smiled back.

"Weasley!" Filch's voice rang across the corridors, "Lupin!"

I protested, "I didn't do anything this time!"

"You ready to run?" Fred smirked.

"I'd rather not-"

He took my hand and started running, not letting me finish my sentence.

"Good luck!" Angelina shouted, laughing along with Katie.

We ran across Hogwarts, turning direction at every possible turn. The things we do for love.

"What did you do this time?" I asked, panting.

"Don't talk, you'll lose your breath sweetheart," he said quickly.

I rolled my eyes, then he dragged us into an empty classroom and locked the door.

I glared at him waiting for an explanation.

"Put some dungbombs into his storage room," he smiled.

I shook my head but couldn't stop the smile forming on my face, "Please tell me again, why I love you."

He pulled me closer to him, "Because you have great taste?"

I retorted, "Actually, I think it's horrible-"

He interrupted me with a kiss, "No you don't."

"No I don't."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Fool Me Twice, I'll Bring You Down

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Snow | Word Count: 2398 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Mentions of Upside Down Trauma | POV: Eddie | Tags: Future Fic, Post Break-Up, Self-Sabotaging Eddie Munson, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Reconnecting, Olive Branches, Second Chances, Always the Right Guy, Finally the Right Time, Hopeful Ending

Eddie toes at the dirty snow under the sole of his boot. Nudging out a shallow hole in the mostly frozen dirt, and then filling it back in with his heel. Stamping it down, and starting the process all over again. Once he's done dragging his foot through the slush, he swings the axe one more time, splitting another log for firewood.

His arms, his shoulders, his back, are all aching. But he needs to get this done before the winter storm rolls in. They're looking at more snow, and a lot of it.

It's busy work. He doesn't have anywhere to be, or anyone to be with, and that's been a hard truth to accept. He's chilled to the bone, and this has been a long, never-ending winter of his own making.

Steve left without a sound, didn't linger, and there was nothing Eddie could do that would have made him stay. What once worked, now didn't, and Eddie's been left alone pining for what once was. It's his own fault, and he knows that. He could have tried harder, could have been easier to live with.

But he wasn't, so he hasn't heard from Steve since the day he packed up and drove away. He gave up first, and Steve gave up last, after they both fought so hard to make it work. To pull Eddie out of the hole he was hellbent on digging for himself, until the moment it wasn't worth it any longer.

Hopeless.

Eddie doesn't blame him for going, for throwing in the towel on a lost cause. It had a been a valiant effort. Steve Harrington always tried so fucking hard to save everyone, and Eddie just didn't want to be saved.

Until he did. And then it was too late.

Steve was already gone.

That realization was unbearable, and Eddie closed himself off from everyone else, besides Wayne, who packed up his shit from Hawkins and moved to the woods with Eddie.

Their home here would be peaceful, if peace was even remotely on the menu for him. It's not, not without Steve, but he's learned to accept that long ago. It is what it is, and all that. He has Wayne, and he has his solitude, which he's greatly come to appreciate. 

It's enough. It has to be.

It's snowing and blowing, as advertised, and Eddie stands at the window and watches it accumulate. Through the falling snow, Eddie catches sight of headlights, weaving down the road in the distance. Some poor asshole definitely took a wrong turn, and is now fighting the shitty roads out this way for no reason. If Eddie was an axe murderer, and believe him, he's considered that as a viable option at times, this would be the opening act of the horror film that awaits. Alas, he's just Eddie. A recluse. A hermit, living down a road with his uncle that nobody else should be on, especially not in this weather, venturing further and further off the beaten path.

Two confirmed bachelors, except. Well.

Eddie turns the silver band on his finger. He said he would until the end. And he's still here, so it is, too. Even if Steve isn't.

He keeps expecting the lights to turn around, to realize they've made a mistake, and backtrack.

They don't. Somebody's not only lost, they're apparently dumb, too, and they better not get stuck because he's not in the mood to go dig anyone out in this weather.

The lights turn up the last stretch of road to the dead end, shining towards the house, and Eddie heaves a sigh.

"Who the hell is that?" Wayne asks from his chair, as the headlights glide across the living room wall.

"Some lost idiot," Eddie says, and reaches for his coat. He'll get them turned around, so they can be left the fuck alone. They live out in the middle of nowhere for a goddamn reason.

The car slowly crunches up the driveway, and Eddie opens the front door and stands on the step. Shielding his eyes from the blinding lights.

Eddie waits until the car door finally opens, and a figure he can't make out due to the fucking headlights, stands up in the open door.

Asshole.

"Seven miles back to the highway!" Eddie yells, only taking his hand away from shielding his eyes for long enough to point back towards the dirt road. He's hoping they take the fucking hint. There's room enough to pop a u-ey in the driveway, and then be back on their merry way.

But there's silence, and for a fraction of a moment, Eddie worries that maybe he's the one at the beginning of a horror film, not the lost sheep in the car.

"It's me." 

Fuck.

Maybe a serial killer would be easier to face.

His voice is tentative, but it's Steve. There's no way it isn't. 

"You're blinding me," Eddie says, and then feels stupid about it. Like, that's what he really needs to tell Steve after all this time and distance? 

"Shit, sorry," Steve says, and leans back in the car, killing the lights.

Eddie still can't see him well, but he can at least make out his silhouette, and it's definitely Steve. He's not imagining things. Steve's here, standing in the snow.

"Can we talk?" Steve asks, as if there'd be any answer other than please.

"Yeah, c'mon in," Eddie says, and nods towards the house. Wayne's gonna give him shit for this, but what the fuck is he supposed to do? Run Steve off a second time?

He at least owes Steve the courtesy to hear him out, no matter what Steve might have to say.

Eddie kind of expects divorce papers. 

Steve's probably moved on, found someone else, and wants to legally sever their ties. Eddie wouldn't blame him. It's been a handful of years now. They can't stay in this limbo forever.

Eddie holds open the door, and Steve stamps his boots, shaking the snow loose, before he steps inside. Wayne's looking at them, face schooled totally neutral.

At least, that's what Eddie interpreted it as.

He was wrong, as per usual.

"Hey, kid. Long time no see," Wayne says, and Steve makes a noise that sounds wounded. Eddie thinks Steve hadn't expected Wayne, and Steve doesn't even take off his coat before he's leaning down to Wayne, pressing against his chest, hugging him tight as Wayne stays seated in his recliner. 

Eddie shifts his weight back and forth from foot to foot. What's he supposed to do now? Steve's here. And Eddie's been set adrift once again.

He's not mad at Steve, he's longed for him since the day he left, but Eddie can't blame him. Eddie knows he got harder and harder to live with over the years. Damaged, and fucking haunted. Steve tried. Steve tried so hard, and in the end, Eddie wouldn't let him try any longer.

He pushed, and pushed, until Steve left.

And Eddie stayed. 

Missing him, missing them, missing the full fucking life that he threw away. A storm cloud that took too long to lift, that only lessened once Wayne turned up to knock some sense into him.

He got better, got himself right, but by then, it was too late.

Steve was already gone.

When Steve rights himself, pulling away from Wayne, he follows Eddie through the house to the bedroom, and Eddie's not sure that's the place to do this, but it's pretty much the only option for any sort of privacy at all. 

Eddie closes the door behind them, and then just stands there. Looking at Steve, eyes raking over him, taking him in. If this is the last time, he wants a real good look. He's missed him.

It's like they've struck a deal, neither of them willing to speak, neither willing to break the silence that has engulfed them, finally snuffing out the yelling, the fighting like dogs in the summer sun. 

Steve reaches into his back pocket, and there is a folded over manilla envelope. He tries to smooth it out, then hands it over. It's paperwork, definitely. And Eddie doesn't want to open it, doesn't want this to be over. Steve was his chosen family, and he's not ready for that to be over for good. He's fucking self-saboteur, and the only one to blame here.

So, he pulls up the fastener, opening the brad holding it closed, and pulls out the stack of paper. 

It's not divorce papers. It's the deed to the house. 

Steve's signed in all the flagged places.

"You should have it," Steve finally says.

"But it's ours," Eddie blurts out.

And it is. They built it into the home that it is, together. It was their dream, not Eddie's dream. He can't just take it, not for good. He's kept care of it, though, hoping someday Steve would want to come back and see it. 

See him. 

Even if Eddie doesn't think he actually deserves Steve being here again.

The hint of a frown crosses Steve's mouth, "Is it, though?"

It is. 

"I've always thought so," Eddie says quietly, head bowed as if he's confessing something. Maybe he is, even if he assumed Steve would already know that. He feels pretty shitty that Steve doesn't, even after everything that's happened between them, but that doesn't change the facts, "It's our home."

Steve sits on the edge of the bed with a flop, the old box springs creaking under him.

"Well, what are we gonna do now, then?" Steve asks.

And isn't that just the million dollar question?

Eddie doesn't have an answer, so Steve fills the silence.

"I'm glad Wayne's here with you. I've been worried."

"About me, or him?" Eddie asks.

"Both, but him. His number was disconnected the last time I called and I got scared that something happened and you didn't tell me."

Eddie wants to say he would have, but he doesn't know if that's true. There's a good chance he wouldn't have been brave enough to reach out, even in a time he would have needed him the most. Maybe, especially not then. Steve's handled with care enough of his sadness and trauma to last a lifetime.

"He's fine. We're fine. Two old Boo Radleys."

Steve furrows his brow. He doesn't get the reference, so Eddie clarifies, "Two shut-ins."

There was a time he'd have poked at him, demanded to know how he hadn't read To Kill a Mockingbird, or at least seen the movie, but those days have long passed. He's grown up since then, learned the hard truths of the world, much like Scout did. He got to see the not-so-secret courts of men's hearts up close and personal in Hawkins.

Steve nods at that, and just looks so fucking sad that this is where Eddie ended up. Eddie's a little fucking sad about it, too.

But it is what it is, life is just that way sometimes.

Eddie sits on the bed next to him. 

"I've missed you," Eddie says, "I fucked it all up. And it wasn't fair to you. But I am sorry. For everything. If I could take it back, I would."

It's like time slows down, and then speeds back up, as Steve's hands rake through Eddie's hair, his fingers scratching against Eddie's scalp as he pulls him closer, kissing him like they haven't in a long fucking time. With passion, and fire, and a love that never died despite everything Eddie did to try and snuff it out to punish himself for things that were always out of his control.

When they finally pull away, Steve laughs, delighted as he flops back onto his back. He picks up Eddie's hand in his own, his thumb brushing against Eddie's wedding band, with soft little strokes.

"It's like you're you again. Almost. Sadder, though. But I never thought I'd see you again, if I did, you know, see you," Steve says, slinging his arm over his eyes. 

Eddie knows what he means.

He is a little more subdued now, whether with age, or just experience that the world isn't always something to waste energy being loud about. Not if you can't change it. And Eddie Munson's never been able to change anything.

But, maybe. Just maybe, he can change this. 

Eddie lays back beside him, just enjoying the warmth his body is putting off, just like he always did, in their best days.

"I've worked through some of my shit," Eddie admits, "Wayne helped."

Steve uncovers his eyes, and they are shiny, but happy, "He always helps."

Eddie nods, grinning, "That he does."

And then they just lay in the silence. There'll be a lot to discuss, a lot of decisions to be made. But Eddie is just going to enjoy this for what it is, at this exact moment. A chance. 

He has a chance. 

A chance to try to make it right, to show he'll be in it, if Steve will just let him. 

A chance to prove he loves him, still. Always.

But all that can wait. They've got nowhere to go, and might not for days. Because Steve's gonna get snowed in, but Eddie suspects Steve knew that when he headed out all this way. 

It was gonna end between them, in either a showdown where they were fit to be tied, or with this, perhaps. A quiet hopefulness that neither of them can dare trust. Not yet.

There is one order of business they better attend to first, though.

"Does Robin know you're here?" Eddie asks, because if she doesn't, Steve had better check in.

"Of course she does," Steve chuckles, "you think I do anything without her express written permission?"

Eddie laughs. He's missed her, too.

"We're gonna get a lot of snow," Eddie comments, "you might have to stay a while."

Steve turns his head, and catches Eddie's eyes, "That's the plan."

"Good," Eddie says, "that's good."

"But, fool me twice and I'll bring you down."

Eddie leans close, so close, "Deal. I'll provide the shovel."

"Shovel?" Steve teases, "I saw a perfectly good axe out there."

Eddie laughs, chin against Steve's broad shoulder, breathing in the smell of him, pressing the tip of his nose to Steve's warm neck.

He has a chance, and he's not about to fuck that up. 

Not again.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! ❄️

Notes: This was heavily influenced by the song Thistle by Breech. Haven't heard of it? You probably didn't watch Dawson's Creek as it originally aired. 🤣 (Like basically everything else, it was replaced with another song for DVD/streaming. Boo. Hiss.)

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Your prompt request #13 "not here... not now..."

In the midst of a battle between two kingdoms, you go into labor. While the city breaks into chaos, you try to escape while trying to deny the birth.

Female character can either deliver the child deep in the woods while on the run or hiding in the rubble, trying to keep quiet as she births her child.

You choose! And thank you for choosing to make an account for your wonderful work! Obsessed with your first fic! 🫶

Not Now… Not Here…

[This was one of the first asks/prompts I received and made me so happy to have created this side blog. Thank you so much Anon for your request and your kind words at the end. Hope you enjoy! 💜 Fpreg 2917 words & Beta’d by the wonderful @gravid-transluna ]

Marion stood by the open window in her bedroom, hands braced against the window sill, as she watched the billows of smoke and the sounds of screaming get closer and closer to home. Tensions had been building between Alleria and its neighbouring kingdom for many years and it had only been a matter of time before one of the Kings ordered their troops to attack. The battle had been raging for days… weeks now, with news from the frontlines making it back to the city as the wounded returned. Unfortunately for the residents in Alleria the battleground was moving ever closer towards the city, and for Marion this was even more unfortunate for she was currently deep in the throes of labour.

She gripped the wooden ledge below her window and bounced her knees and hips through the latest contraction.

“Mnnnnhhhhh… oh little one, you have a terrible sense of ti— ohhhhhh… timing.” Marion moaned softly, her hips swaying instinctively as the tightening coursed across her middle while the weight of the baby’s head filled her pelvis.

When the contraction had faded back into a dull ache Marion looked up again at the city slowly falling to the destruction of war. The smoke seemed closer than it had an hour ago, the battleground was heading right across the city in the direction of her home. The pains had started yesterday but were manageable back then - she could continue moving around and getting everything prepared for the birth. The war was far from the city at that point and it did not occur to Marion that she would not be safe to labour and birth here - Alleria had never allowed their borders to be penetrated before, but the invading Kingdom’s forces were too strong.

Marion held the underside of her heavy and tight belly, her thin olive green dress stretched around her enlarged middle. She had never given birth before but had helped in many a delivery around the town. It was a rite of passage for a woman to deliver her children - the men-folk would almost never be present while the labouring mother would be supported by female friends, family or neighbours.

Marion didn’t have any of those but she wasn’t phased to be doing this alone - she preferred things that way. However, as she looked down through her window at the empty and deserted street below, fear and panic began to claw at her thoughts. Perhaps she should flee the city as well. A loud scream and sound of metal against metal echoed through the streets. The battle was getting closer, she needed to leave. Now.

Grabbing a canvas bag Marion quickly threw some items inside; blanket, clothes, water, food. As she was frantically waddling around her small rented room another contraction hit out of nowhere only minutes after the last.

“Hoooooooo— oh fuck….” Marion doubled over and braced her thighs as the pressure and pain skyrocketed. Her pelvis was being pulled apart as the baby’s head shoved its way through, almost certainly at the top of her cervix by now. The immeasurable weight and pressure was overwhelming and Marion found herself grunting against it.

“Mnnghhhh!!!” Marion growled, but the sound was swallowed by a loud explosion coming from a few streets away.

“Ooooh… so— so low. Don’t come now baby, just a— a little bit longer.” She pleaded to her rounded belly, holding it with both hands as she straightened back up. Grabbing her bag of supplies Marion bolted for the door to the stairs at the back of the building. She had to get out of here, get herself far away from the incoming battleground before she delivered this babe.

The stairs were awkward and difficult to descend with her dangerously wide gait from an extremely low baby. But Marion eventually made it down to street level and looked around; there was no one left - everyone had already fled. She waddled as fast as she could in the opposite direction from the rising cries of battle, her hands holding up her taut and tensing belly as if her grip alone could stop her labour. Marion was too busy worrying about safe routes out of the city to realise the next contraction was fast approaching and when it struck she found herself dropping into a deep squat in the middle of the cobbled street.

“Grrrrrrrhhhhh….! Oh Gods… So— so much pressure!” She groaned, her bag of supplies slipping from her shoulder as she squatted and grabbed her knees. Instinctively she mooed and growled her way through the latest wave, each one seeming to strike with more ferocity than the last. Marion would be self-conscious making such a public display of her labouring but with the streets deserted she allowed herself to make whatever noises she needed to get her through the pain of childbirth.

Eventually it passed, but the delay in her movements meant the sounds of battle were only a stone's throw away. The harsh sounds of doors and windows smashing echoed off the buildings and Marion thought she could hear incoming heavy footsteps. If the owners of the heavy stomps were just of Allerian troops then she would be okay but, if they were of the invading forces there was no telling what they would do with a woman wandering alone on the streets. The clinking of swords colliding got louder. Both troops were getting closer. Marion could not get caught in the crossfire - she’d be as good as dead.

She ran, as fast as her wide legs could carry her, away from the brutal fighting. She barely made it round the corner down a narrow side street when she was forced to stop once more. Slumped against the brick wall, Marion curled around her hard belly and trembled as she struggled to stay upright. The heavy boulder of a baby’s head was right there, filling her birth canal with so much pressure she thought she might explode. There was no stopping the primal grunt that rattled her throat as every muscle seemed to contract and squeeze the baby towards its exit.

“Nnghhhhh!!!” She roared against the pain and it was immediately followed by a gush of warm liquid running down her thighs and splashing the beige cobbles underfoot. At the tail end of the contraction she felt it - deep in her genes an instinct was telling her to start pushing.

“No….” She whimpered. “Not now… not here… hoohoo-hoohoo…” Marion panted erratically, fighting against her body’s advancing labour.

When the contraction somewhat eased the mother-to-be staggered bowlegged down the deserted side street, the large head shoving its way through her cervix. She made it through to the next street over but Marion had no clue where she was going, no planned destination she was trying to reach. Instead she was just desperately waddling as far away as she could from the noise of battle. She thought she had more time to find an alternate place to give birth but the increasing weight and pressure between her legs was soon proving her wrong. Out in the open of this new street she doubled over against a shop window - palms flat on the glass, her hips jutting backwards and her heavy belly hanging towards the floor.

“Ohhhhhh… no, don’t push… don’t— mnghhh don’t p-p-push…” she chanted over and over, panting and sweating and shaking while the baby inside sank lower and lower.

Running and shouting and screaming could be heard from the end of the street. Marion, still caught in the midst of a powerful contraction, glanced down the road towards the sound and saw at least a dozen men rounding the corner. Their metal plated armour, the colours of their tunics, their pale faces - none of it was familiar. These were enemy soldiers. The labouring mother slipped around a corner to hide down another side street, her legs stuck so wide it looked like she was about to drop the kid any second. And it felt that way too. With one hand holding onto the wall, the other disappeared under her dress between her thighs. No baby yet, thankfully, but she was starting to bulge into her underwear.

Deep and gruff shouting echoed from the high street, the invading warriors were jeering and smashing everything in their path. Despite the continuing contraction, Marion shuffled a little further into the alleyway, into the shadows and tried to hide behind some broken wooden crates. The soldiers were shouting in a language she didn’t understand, but the tone of their rough voices were clear - they were winning this war.

One… three… seven… Marion looked through the gap in the crates counting the foreign soldiers as they stomped past the entrance to the narrow side street, the burly and primitive men kicking and smashing and destroying every single thing they passed.

The next contraction ramped up before the last had even faded away and Marion slapped a hand over her mouth to stop any sounds escaping. Her baby was insistent, desperate to be born. The pressure screamed at her to push and her stance instinctively widened, but as she moved her foot she kicked something hard and metal sending it tumbling across the cobbles with a clang.

Her heart stopped, her breathing seized. Marion’s eyes flared with panic and looked nervously through the gap in the wooden crates towards the entrance of the side street. There was no way that sound wasn’t noticeable, a second later Marion’s fears were realised when two strange looking men stood at the archway of the dark sidestreet, staring into the shadows looking for the source of the noise.

Push!

Marion stayed perfectly still, her hand squeezed over her mouth, her nose breathing as silently as humanly possible. She could not let them find her, Gods only knew what they would do to her, especially if they had conquered Alleria.

Push!

The contraction still tore across her body, her belly contorted into a solid, hard ball beneath her dress as it tried to deliver the child. The pressure between her thighs was making her eyes water, the weight was pulling everything downwards, and her vagina was starting to burn. And yet Marion remained still, not moving an inch.

Push!

The men were talking to themselves, grumbling incoherently in their foreign tongue, pointing and staring down the narrowed cobbled strip. Marion’s legs were trembling, her knees sinking, and as she held her breath in fear of discovery she realised too late that her body was pushing. Without instruction or permission the baby was shoved down the birth canal, feeling like it was seconds away from falling into her underwear. But she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself from bearing down. Behind her sweaty palm Marion’s mouth opened in a silent scream as she pushed and immediately could feel her labia starting to part beneath her clothing.

Oh fuck! Marion thought, trying to stop the impossible. Please don’t come out now!

She fought against her instincts for the longest minute of her life, desperately trying not to push and trying to stay silent. Eventually the strange men lost interest, deciding nothing was hiding down this side street, and continued to ransack the surrounding shops with their fellow soldiers. Marion slumped back against the wall when the soldier's departure coincided with the slight easing of the contraction. With heavy breaths quieter than a whisper, she tried to regain a normal rhythm in her lungs.

This baby could not be born now, here, it had to hold on for her to get somewhere safe. Away from the carnage of war and away from her foes. Then there was a sudden bang, a moving wall of heat, and a victorious cheer coming from the adjacent street - the enemy had started burning buildings causing a giant explosion.

Debris flew through the air, shards of brick and building raining from the skies and Marion spun around, curling around her bump, to protect herself and the baby. She staggered, bowlegged, deeper down the dark alleyway to try to get away from the destruction but with the contractions almost on top of each other she barely made four unsteady steps before she had to pause. The baby was right there, she could feel it. Her hand dived between her legs to check and felt with her fingertips the spherical shape between her folds peaking into her undergarments. The primal need to give birth took over once more and whether she wanted to or not, Marion found herself bearing down with the contraction.

This baby could not be born, not now and not here. If she could not stop pushing she would have to find another way. With her hand wedged between her thighs she clamped it firmly over the mass in her sodden underwear, and with a low grunt she was uncontrollably pushing against the palm of her own hand.

“Nnghhhh— noooo.. don’t c-come o-outtttt…” she growled, her body pushing ferociously and she could feel the head slip forward.

In the shadows Marion grunted and heaved and pushed. Against these efforts she tried to keep her palm over the emerging head to prevent it coming out any further. Her legs were wide and trembling, the heavy mass between her hips forcing her pelvis apart. It was hell, being stuck like this, her labia stretching around the emerging head, the desperate need to get this over with - to deliver this baby. The placement of her own hand proved futile, her body outright refusing to do anything that could delay or prevent the birth. Instead her knees buckled, sinking into a deep squat, and her free hand flew forward to brace her labouring body against the rough bricks of the dark alley while the other hand cupped the head of the incoming babe.

“Ohhhhh fuck…” her groans barely audible, all efforts going into birth. “Oh Gods… help me… it’s coming— it’s coming o-outtt!”

The hand at the apex of her thighs was supporting the head rather than stopping it from coming out. She gasped, sucking in a desperate breath, and leaned into the push giving everything she had into bearing down. She sobbed as the head reached a full crown in her underwear, its large shape undeniable and filling her small palm. The clothing was damp and stretched but she couldn’t remove them, both hands were occupied - one holding her upright in the squat the other holding the emerging head. “Grrnnnhhhhh!!” The low and primal groan of effort rattled the back of her throat and ever so slowly the head was born into her palm.

Smoke was filling the city, homes and shops were on fire, the enemy’s army was tearing her home apart. Loud and sudden blasts echoed down the alleyway, shaking the streets and buildings all around her. Marion fell forward, scrambling on all fours to get away from danger, all the while her baby’s head hung from her body filling her underwear. The rough cobbled street grazed and cut her knees as she crawled further down the side street, desperate to find some shelter. Fluids were leaking from her opening leaving a trail of damp in her wake. She found a door, indented slightly into the brick wall. She tried the handle but it was locked. A cry of fear and frustration left her lungs as she pounded and pushed against the wooden door.

The baby wasn’t waiting for safety or shelter, the next contraction was soon taking hold and she rocked on all fours in the alcove, humming an instinctual noise as the baby’s shoulders started to press against her opening.

“D-don’t…. No….” Marion panted and pleaded with her body.

But her hips sank backwards and she was uncontrollably pushing once more, grunting with every wave as her body worked on expelling the child. “Mnnnghhhhhhh it— it’s coming… I can’t— stop p-p-pushingggggg!!!”

Marion clawed at the door bringing herself up on her knees as the shoulders stretched her opening wide. The baby was waiting for no one and it was coming out right into her underwear. Her fingernails dug deep into the wooden door, her hips sinking towards the floor and she roared with the effort of bearing down, of pushing the baby’s shoulders out of her body. She could feel everything as it slipped out - one shoulder, the next shoulder, its arms and hands and torso as it emerged into her undergarments. Marion managed to prise her hands from the door and scrambled with her clothing to free the path for her baby to enter this world. Pulling the underwear down a few inches she grunted with the desperate final push and the baby suddenly slipped from her body into her hands.

“Ahhh oh Gods… you’re here, you’re out….” Marion gasped, pulling the newborn straight to her chest and sitting back onto her heels. “Hello little one.” The baby shifted and squirmed in her arms and released the softest cry of a first breath.

Exhausted, Marion turned and slumped against the doorway, babe in arms. The sound of crying soon travelled down the side street and footsteps approached. Fear filled Marion’s heart, the enemy was approaching and both she and her baby were defenceless.

“Oh my goodness, is that a baby?” Came a gruff voice above her. She looked up frightened, but when she saw the familiar uniform colour and the warm caramel skin of an Allerian soldier Marion let out a relieved sob.

“Come on Miss, I’ll get you and your baby out of here.” He said kindly.