#long fan fiction

[smollangrycat]

I Wish I Had Wings

Introductions

———————-

When OJ was young she would dream  of flying, high in the clouds where no one could catch her but sooner or later, she always had to wake up.

Groaning OJ untwisted herself from her blankets her back craving from another night on the incredibly uncomfortable bunk.  Begrudgingly, she sat up and combed her hand through her unruly copper curls, she was convinced one day her hair would throttle her in her sleep. 

She yawned, her attention wandering over to the dry laughter that made itself known from the other end of the room, a sleepy smile made its way onto OJs face. 

Trudy - “Morning sleepy head.” 

Trudy chuckled, walking over and throwing herself backwards on the rock hard bunk landing on top of OJs legs.

OJ - “Oi get off.”

The curly hair woman laughed as she halfheartedly tried to shove her friend off her legs. Trudy ignored her, getting comfortable (somehow).

Trudy - “I head we’re getting a new shipment of Science Sorties, wonder what Augustine will think of em?”

OJ wondered, Grace was definitely a character. She knew that will Grace had a hard, no nonsense exterior she was warm on the inside. She had take OJ under her wing and OJ isn’t even technically apart of the “science sorties” she’s one of the active medics on Graces team, joining when she was fifteen.  She just happened to pick up on some Pandorian fauna and ran with it. Grace supported her the entire time, encouraging her to explore Pandoras intriguing creatures.

OJs mind wondered a little of track but she soon came back to reality when Trudy elbowed her in the stomach. OJ winced slightly, slapping her friends shoulder but then it hit her. Oh shit. Her eyes widened and she jumped up, scrambling to change into her grey tank top and camo army pants (which coincidently belonged to Trudy). 

Trudy, alarmed by her friend sudden change in demeanour sat up on the bunk.

Trudy - “What? What going on, are you okey?”

OJ took a few minutes to answer as she looked around for her crocs and lab coat. They were both extra … unique, a pair of lavender crocs with little plant stickers on them and her lab coat was a faint pink colour. She tied the ends of the lab at into a bow before craving her lap top.

OJ “I said I would help Max unload the new avatars.”

Oh looked at her military grade watch that she’s drawn a happy face onto with yellow highlighter. 

OJ - “15 minutes ago.”

Trudy stood up, shaking her head while she laughed.

Trudy - “You’ve really gotta be more organised J”

She sighs in defeat, trying her best to wrestle her hair into a short pony tail. Finally she was ready! She rushed off down the corridor after hugging Trudy goodbye, hoping that there was still time to help Max unload the avatars.

She met Max just outside the lab, the avatars had been brought to them (for a change) so after she helped Max check them over she headed to her desk, her desk was covered with papers and note books as well as little bits and bobs. OJ had left out some of her research so she could finish off her most recent report on the study of  Thanators aka “Palulukan” breeding patterns and mating rituals. She got busy with her work, sticking in her wire earphones and selecting a motivational playlist.

A little while later as more people started to filter into the lab OJ decided to take a break. Unplugging her earphones and putting them to the side she stretched and walked over towards Max. He was standing next to the avatars watching their electronic charts, OJ studied the avatars for a few moments until one of them caught her eye. A make, maybe early twenties with a mischievous look on his face - she picked up his electronic chart and read the name. She faintly recognised it but couldn’t quite put her finger on who it was.

OJ - “Tom Sully”

Max visibly paused, his face changed and OJ immediately noticed. She wanted to ask why the sudden change in demeanour but instead Max hastily passed her his pad. Reading the information her eyes widened.

Thomas Sully 

22, Male

Scientist

*UPDATE*

Thomas Sully (deceased)

Avatar replacement 

Jake Sully

22, Male

Ex Marine.

OJ heart broke for this poor guy, he looses his brother and then gets shipped off to another planet. Handing the pad back to Max she stares sympathetically at the avatar. And other hour of so past, OJ buddies herself around the lab checking that her fist aid pack was fully packed and not missing anything. 

Another paramedic, Mara sat beside her checking over her own pack. She wasn’t apart of OJs group but they had grown close over the years.

Mara - “Your mom said anything to you?”

OJ froze, she hadn’t spoken to her mother in years - not since their big argument. Since then, if they ever crossed each other path Kate pretended that her daughter didn’t exist and would walk right by her without as much as a glance.

OJ - “No.”

It was short and OJ felt bad about her brashness but her mother was a topic she didn’t like discussing. Thankfully Maras attention was drawn to two men who had entered the lab. Maxes waved her over, OJ said goodbye to Mara and made her way over to her friend.

Max - “And this is OJ she’ll be the paramedic on your team.”

Max introduced to the two men. Oh recognised them, they where the riders to the avatars she had helped unload earlier. OJ waved, she shook one of the man’s hand who introduced himself as norm and then turned to the man in the wheelchair. He held his hand out for her and quirked his brow slightly.

Jake - “OJ?”

The woman laughed, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand.

OJ - “Yeah, long story. Mostly involving Orange juice.”

The both laughed a small blush tinted OJ face. Shit, he’s really hot. Max noticed the slight rosy tint of OJ face, he smile. He had grown close to OJ over the years - she was only a teenager when she fist started working in the lab. He thought for a moment and then a mischievous smile crossed his face.

Max - “OJ why don’t you help Jake set up his video logs?”

The woman smiled completely oblivious to Maxes intentions, she was just happy to help.

OJ - “Yeah sure, follow me and I’ll get you set up.”

OJ waged him over to the station next to hers and started filling in the computer log in details. After that she got his log ready and started explaining how it works.

OJ - “You can say anything thoughts, feelings all sorts it’s mostly so you won’t lose your mind for the next six years.”

Jake nodded, in a honestly he wasn’t really paying attention. He couldn’t pull his focus from her eyes, big warm grey eyes that seemed so gentle and caring. His attention snapped back when he noticed OJ putting something on his desk, it was a little blue dinosaur with pink speckles. 

OJ - “There! Now it’s officially OJ approved.”

Jake smiled, OJ seemed odd but in the best kind of way. He picked up the little dinosaur inspecting it, it was carved from wood and it looked kinda rough up close but you could see the care and effort that went into it. OJ must have noticed him starting at the little wooden thing because she covered her eyes and sighed.

OJ - “Oh Eywa, I’m so sorry! Your gunna think I’m a compleat space case, I promise I’m not. I give one to every newbie in the lab so they have something to personalise they’re desk with.”

Jake looked at her with confusion, how could he not like this little dinosaur? It was hella cute and anyone would be lucky to revive something that thoughtful on their first day.

Jake - “No I like it, it’s gunna be my second in command”

OJ smiled.

OJ - “Honestly, it won’t offend me if you don’t like it I kinda jumped the ball with it.”

Jake put on a mock offended look.

Jake - “You better show some respect to my second in command.”

He laughed while he said it, making OJ smile more. She mock saluted the little dinosaur.

OJ - “My apologies lance corporal sir.”

Once they where finished laughing at OJ silly antics, Jake got lost in her eyes again but then he got curious - how did she know marine ranks? 

Before he could ask the moment was interrupted by Grace coming out of her link pod.

Grace - “Where’s my god damn cigarette? Guys, what is wrong with this picture?”

OJ watched as another scientist rushed to grab Graces lab coat, lighter and a cigarette.

OJ - “Morning sleeping beauty.”

Grace playfully rolled her eyes at OJ antics. 

All four of them moved closer to the link pods, Max and Norm introduced Jake to Graces reputation and when they finally meet grace by the link pods Max introduced Grace to both Norm and Jake.

Grace talked to Norm about his Na’vi and she was quite impressed but gave him a few pointers. Her expression changed when she looked at Jake.

Max introduced Jake and Grace stood annoyance resisting from her body language. 

Jake - “Ma’am”

Grace - “Yeah, yeah. I know who you are, and I don’t need you. I need your brother”

OJ winced at the look on Jakes face.

OJ - “Grace.”

She tried but was ignored as the older woman continued.

Grace - “I know the PhD who trained for three years for this mission.”

Jake - “He’s dead. I know it’s a big inconvenience for everyone.”

Graces eyes widen slightly before she regains her original composure.

Grace - “How much lab training have you had?”

Jake - “I dissected a frog once.”

OJ totally caught of guard burst out laughing but after she sees the pointed look Grace give her she is quick to shut up.

Grace annoyed by the hole situation, declares that she is going to see Selfrig as she is sick of having the shit taken out of her.

Grace - “You see? There pissing in use without even the Curtiss of calling it rain.”

Max tried to stop her but it was to no avail and after giving a few words of wisdom to Jake he left. At some point Norm had also left, probably introducing himself to the other scientists.

OJ and Jake spent the rest of the day talking. Ok asked him about his time on earth and Jake asked her about her time on Pandora, by the time they were finished it was late and they both headed their separate ways. When OJ finally got back to her room a goofy smiled stayed in her face all night. 

———————

@mxyz-nex

@inutheangel

@abbersreads

@mashiromochi

@emery-aka-emmy

@octavias-next-meat-bite

@sophiexoxo-lol

@ksata

@just-another-queer-writer

@quietshyashlyn19

@kitkat27

[themirokai]

I got this comment on a story from my Other AO3 Account this morning.

(Info redacted because I prefer keeping these accounts separate but no one follows me on the side blog I have for that account.)

The story was posted almost a year ago and is relatively “popular” by my average statistics even though it has tropes and themes that are big turnoffs for a lot of people (hence separate accounts). This popularity is undoubtedly because it’s a Marvel Loki story and that fandom is massive.

So there is obviously an algorithm or a bot scrubbing ao3 statistics and leaving this comment on fics that meet a certain metric with the main character of the fic inserted into the comment.

I had a little time to kill this morning so I decided to investigate further. And y’all this is so predatory. Come on this journey with me. It made me mad. It may make you mad.

First, if you go to Webnovel’s website, you HAVE to choose between male lead or female lead stories before you can go any further. WTF?

And that’s weird, but this gets so much worse. This is basically a pay-to-read site that has different subscription models. Which… okay BUT! The authors don’t get paid! Look at that comment again. They’re promising a supportive and nurturing community, but zero monetary compensation. It’s basically, “post your stuff here so we can get paid and you can get… nice vibes?” I mean look at this Orwellian writing:

Using the phrase “pay-to-read model” in the same sentence as “qualitative changes in lifestyles for authors” deliberately makes you think that you can get paid and maybe even make a living on this website. But that’s not actually what it says and authors will not receive one red cent.

Oh but wait, the worst is still to come. In case this breaks containment (which I kind of hope it does) this is where I mention that I’m a lawyer in the US.

I don’t do intellectual property or copyright law but I do read and write contracts for a living. So I went to look at their terms of service. It was fun!

Highlights the first, in which Webnovel gets a license to do basically whatever they want with content you post on their site. This is how they get to be paid for people reading authors’ writing without paying them anything.

Highlights the second, in which Webnovel takes no responsibility for illegally profiting off of fan fic. This all says that the writer is 100% responsible for everything the writer posts (even though only Webnovel is making money from it).

Highlights the third which say that by posting, the author is representing that they have the legal right to use and to let Webnovel use the content according to these terms. So if a writer posts fan fiction and Webnovel makes money from people reading the fan fiction, and the House of the Mouse catches wise, these sections say that that’s ALL on the writer.

So that’s a little skeevy to start off with but the thing that is seriously shitty and made me make this post was that these assholes are coming to ao3. They are actively recruiting people in comments on their fan fiction. And they are saying they are big fans of the character you’re writing about and that they share your interests.

They are recruiting fan fiction writers and giving every impression that you can make money from posting fan fiction on their site and hiding the fact that you absolutely cannot but they can make money off of you while you try, deep in their terms of service which no one but a lawyer who writes fan fic and has some time to kill will read.

I see posts on here regularly from people who don’t understand how this stuff works, don’t understand that they (and others) can not legally make a financial profit from fan fiction. And there are tons of people who will not take the time to dig into the details.

Don’t deal with these bastards. Fuck Webnovel.

[ruoyeming]

Zombie apocalypse AU hualian designs for my fanfic that I WILL finish.. for real guys...

[gleafer]

Go read this wonderful fanfic and enjoy this accompanying art by yours truly!

[muirann]

all comic fans know how to do is: develop superiority complexes based on their personal perceptions of a character, eat hot chip, and lie

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Double The Cravings*

a/n: this was a request by @cicicavill7 (sorry i didn't post the entire ask it was too long 😭😭😭😭😭)

Summary: you're very pregnant, and harry has to go to a fundraiser. you don't feel like eating because of your growing body, feeling insecure but harry's always there to take care of his pretty pregnant girl.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: smut, fluff. mentions of pregnancy, insecurities. p in v sex, sex while pregnant, creampie, aftercare, kissing.

*

"You look absolutely stunning, darling." 

Harry's warm breath tickled the shell of your ear as his arms wound around your waist from behind. His large hands came to rest reverently on the swell of your pregnant belly, cradling the twins you were carrying. 

You bit your lip, smoothing the silky fabric of your dress down self-consciously. While you didn't doubt Harry's sincerity, it was getting harder to feel confident about your changing body lately. Your cravings had been intense and unrelenting, and you felt like you were gaining more weight than a typical pregnancy.

"You really think so?" you asked, unable to mask the uncertainty in your tone as you examined your reflection again. "I feel like this dress is getting a bit snug..."

Harry's brow furrowed, and he turned you to face him, tilting your chin up with one finger. "Of course I think so. Have you looked at yourself? You're glowing, Y/N. Absolutely radiant carrying our babies."  

He leaned in and nuzzled his nose against yours affectionately. "I've never seen anything more beautiful than you right now, my pregnant little wife."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, ducking your head bashfully. It was getting more difficult to accept the compliments the further along you got. Your hormones were all over the place and you felt big and awkward rather than the radiant fertility goddess Harry seemed to see.

Sensing your reticence, Harry cupped your face in his large hands, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "I'm serious. You're so bloody gorgeous, Y/N, especially with this new lush, curvy figure of yours." His eyes burned with sincerity and...something darker as they raked over your body. "Gonna let me show you later just how much I appreciate these new assets?"

Despite your fluttering nerves, you felt desire curl low in your belly at the rumbling promise in his gravelly tone. Harry always had a way of making you feel utterly desirable and worshipped.

"If you insist," you murmured demurely, though you knew he could see the want simmering behind your eyes.

Harry groaned, ducking to capture your lips in a searing kiss. "Cheeky girl. You know I do." He punctuated his words with nibbling bites along your jaw. "Going to cherish every new inch of you, angel."

A fluttering in your stomach prevented you from getting too carried away. You placed a hand over Harry's where they still cradled your bump.

"Alright, alright, down boy," you giggled breathlessly. "We've got somewhere to be, remember? And these two are getting impatient."

Chuckling, Harry pressed one more smoldering kiss to the corner of your mouth before releasing you. "Fair point. Shall we, my pregnant goddess?"

With a wink, he offered his arm which you took with an eye roll and a fond smile. Despite your persisting insecurities, you felt reassured by his doting attention as you exited your bedroom.  

This fancy fundraiser gala had been on your schedule for months, a can't-miss event Harry had been looking forward to all year. You'd been nervous about going, worried people would judge your ever-expanding figure. But Harry had been adamant that you were going to shine like the stunning, fertile vision you were. Now you were just hoping you could make it through without any embarrassing incidents.

Your breath caught as soon as you stepped into the opulent ballroom of the posh venue, immediately feeling underdressed and frumpy next to the glamour of the high society crowd milling about. 

Harry, always in tune with your wavering confidence, leaned over to murmur in your ear. "Try to relax, love. You're the most beautiful woman in the room, and not a single person here holds a candle to you carrying my children."

You flushed at his ardent assurance, trying to calm your nerves as he led you toward the refreshments. Of course, not five minutes after arriving, the doubts began creeping back in. 

All of the hors d'oeuvres being offered were deliciously unhealthy, aromas of rich foods and sharp spices assaulting your sensitive, pregnant senses. Your mouth watered just looking at the arrays of canapes, bruschetta, sliders, and mini quiches laid out enticingly. 

But your hormonal self-consciousness quickly took over. You worried about stuffing your face and exploding right out of this tight dress, about people watching you pile food onto your plate and whispering behind your back. About looking sloppy and out of control.

So despite the intense cravings rumbling in your stomach, you shyly waved off the passing servers offering treats and settled for sipping some water and nibbling on a few breadsticks. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Harry frowning in concern, his brows drawing together as he watched you avoid most of the appetizers. But he didn't comment, simply squeezing your hand reassuringly and turning to engage in conversation with some donors.

As the evening wore on, your stomach was grumbling so loudly you feared passersby could hear it over the music and mingling voices. Your cravings were getting worse by the minute as you tried desperately to ignore mouthwatering aromas wafting all around. You pressed one palm against your belly, rubbing soothing circles as the babies kicked in protest.

"I know, I know," you whispered, feeling guilty already. You didn't want to deprive your little ones of anything, but the thought of stuffing yourself in front of all these judgemental rich folk had you paralyzed.  

You jumped slightly at the feeling of a large hand settling over yours on your bump.

"Everything okay?" Harry ducked his head close, green eyes full of concern as he searched your face. "You've hardly eaten anything all night. Are you feeling ill?"

You bit your lip, averting your gaze briefly as you weighed whether or not to open up to him. After a beat, you decided there was no sense in hiding it; Harry could always see right through you anyway.

"No, it's not that exactly. It's just..." You sighed, gesturing vaguely around the ballroom. "I feel so out of place here. Like everyone's judging me for how big I've gotten already. If I gorge myself on all the food I want, I'll probably tip right over."

A soft, sad look flashed across Harry's face. "Oh, my sweet girl." He pulled you gently into his arms, stroking a soothing hand down your back. "Is that why you've barely touched your plate tonight? Because you're self-conscious?"

You nodded against his chest, comforted by his solid warmth and the faint whiff of his cologne amidst the richer scents of the food. "I know it's ridiculous. I should be listening to my body's needs, not worrying about stupid societal expectations. But I just...I feel huge already, and my cravings have been so intense this pregnancy. I'm scared if I give in, especially to this rich food, I'll get even bigger and--"

"Y/N." Harry pulled back, cupping your cheeks to force you to meet his suddenly intense gaze, brow furrowed sternly. "You listen to me right now, alright? That's nonsense and I won't hear another word about it."

You swallowed thickly at the fierceness in his expression, heat pooling in your belly at the hint of that commanding "dad" tone you'd come to crave during your pregnancy.

"You are...stunning. Incredible," Harry breathed, his warm hands drifting down to splay reverently over your belly, like it was the most precious thing he'd ever held. "Have you looked at yourself lately? You're absolutely glowing, every inch of you fuller and softer and just...exquisite." 

His voice lowered to that rumbly timbre that could have you melting even at your horniest. "It's been a struggle to keep my hands off you as you fill out, love. Seeing you all lush and fertile like this..." He groaned softly, burning gaze raking over your body. "It's everything to me, and don't you dare deprive yourself or our babies with these silly hang ups."

You were panting softly by this point, squirming under his heated stare and the blunt weight of his words. Your arousal was a thick, heavy thing thrumming through your veins as Harry laid his desires out before you.

Harry's lips quirked in a heated, knowing smirk. He leaned in close, his plush mouth brushing the shell of your ear. "So I'm going to take you around this buffet...and pile both our plates high with anything and everything you've been craving, my insatiable girl."

A shudder rippled through you at the low, gravelly promise in his voice. Harry nipped at your earlobe teasingly before pulling back, satisfaction glinting in those emerald depths as he took in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. He knew exactly how to unravel you.

"Then tonight, after we get home..." Harry's large hand drifted down to palm your lower belly, fingers splaying possessively. "I'm going to worship every new lush inch of you. Indulge my own cravings for this luxurious fertile body of yours."

You bit your lip on a small whimper, already aching for his touch. This man would be the absolute death of you.

Chuckling darkly, Harry slid his hand into yours and began leading you back towards the lavish buffet spread. Your cravings had reached a fever pitch between his heated words and the enticing aromas surrounding you. Hunger and arousal swirled dizzily within your core.

True to his promise, Harry loaded up two plates with every kind of indulgent treat - rich canapes dripping with cheese and pesto, crispy bacon-wrapped prawns, creamy mushroom vol-au-vents, and far too many miniature quiches and savory tarts to count. When you tried to protest the overflowing portions, he merely fixed you with a stern look until you subsided.

Finally, when not another morsel could be crammed on, Harry handed you your precarious tower of food with a soft smile.

"There we are, my perfect girl," he murmured, stroking a knuckle down your flushed cheek. "Now eat up for me, won't you? Gotta keep your strength up for later."

You swallowed thickly, throat suddenly dry under the heated promise in those guileless green eyes. "Yes, Harry."

The next hour or so passed in a lush, sensual haze. You found a quiet corner to tuck yourselves into, allowing you to relax and satiate your fierce cravings under Harry's reverent, watchful gaze.

With each sinful bite, each savory indulgence on your tongue, you felt your nerves melting away, replaced by the most delicious anticipation. Especially when Harry's eyes would hungrily track the movement of your lips around each morsel, his large hands roaming possessively over the swell of your belly and newly full curves.

More than once, his deft fingers slipped a decadent bite past your lips, emerald gaze darkening in blatant lust each time you laved your tongue along the thick pads to clean away any lingering flavor.

By the time your second plate was nearly cleaned, a delicious lassitude had settled over your limbs. You were absolutely stuffed and sated, the fierce edge finally shorn off your hunger. You felt...content. Sexy, even, the way Harry's heated stare roved over your figure.

Sitting back with a small sound of satiation, you let your free hand drift down to caress your rounded belly. You could've sworn you felt the twins doing pleased little flips and kicks within, satisfied by your indulgence. You smiled tenderly, lifting your eyes to find Harry watching you with naked adoration glowing in his gaze.

"Look at you," he murmured reverently, using his thumb to gently wipe away a stray crumb from the corner of your mouth. "Positively radiant and plump, my gorgeous, well-fed queen."

Then, to your utter delight and arousal, he leaned over and pressed a lingering, openmouthed kiss to the swell of your stomach, humming in contentment. "We'll have to ensure we get you home soon...I have some urgent worshiping of my own to take care of."

By the time you finally tumbled through the door of your flat, lips swollen and gasping from the heated make-out session during the Uber ride, you were both achingly worked up.

No sooner had Harry kicked the door shut behind you than he was pressing you into the wall, large hands roaming greedily over your body. The sound of your muffled moan against his mouth only spurred him on, his grip tightening possessively on your hips.

When you finally parted, panting, his eyes were blown wide with sheer animal need. Harry wasted no time in shucking his jacket and tie, practically tearing apart the buttons of his shirt before moving on to divesting you of your clothes.

Your dress was peeled down over your curves and dropped unceremoniously to the floor in Harry's haste. Soon you were bare before him, the crisp air caressing your flushed, overheated skin and the delicious ache between your thighs.

Harry hissed out a breath, strong hands mapping the lush new terrain of your body with unbridled reverence. He swallowed hard enough for you to see his throat work convulsively.

"Fucking perfection," he grated roughly. His palms smoothed over the gentle swell of your belly, fingers splaying in wonder before sliding up to cup the full, sensitive weight of your tender breasts.

A strangled sound escaped your lips as he rolled the pebbled peaks between his fingertips, the jolt of sensation arrowing straight between your legs.

"Look at you, love," Harry crooned, nudging your thighs apart to slide one thick, muscular thigh between them. You cried out softly, canting your hips to ride the delicious friction provided by his leg. "All lush and fertile and utterly exquisite. Made to be lavished and cherished. To be devoured."

His mouth was on yours again, hot and wild and devouring you just as promised. You dimly felt him undoing his trousers, kicking them and his pants aside until he was finally as bare as you.

Then Harry was everywhere His huge hands spanned your back in a heated caress as his mouth mapped every new heavenly curve and swell of your body. His broad shoulders rippled between your splayed thighs, tongue swirling hotly over your peaked nipples until you were mewling. And still he paid reverence to your heavy, aching breasts and rounded belly, pressing fervent, worshipful kisses over every inch.

By the time the slick, insistent pressure of his cock nudged against your dripping entrance, you were already trembling all over, heat coiled impossibly tight in your core.

"Let me properly cherish you, my queen," Harry rumbled, the words a gravelly prayer as he slowly, achingly buried himself to the hilt within your welcoming heat. You both groaned in unison, your walls fluttering maddeningly around his thick length as he stretched and filled you completely.

That first slow drag nearly had you shattering right then and there. Each thick inch of Harry's cock glided along every perfectly swollen, sensitive inch of you as he thrust home, dragging against that sweetest spot inside over and over again.

His large hands cupped your ass, hips rolling in a torturously languid grind, burying himself deeper with every unhurried stroke. He was devouring you from the inside out, cherishing every silken inch, and the utter reverence in his gaze as he drank in your pleasure had you spiraling higher.

When one hand came up to cup the flushed, damp curve of your cheek, the tender intimacy of it nearly undid you.

"I love you," Harry breathed, mouth finding yours in a claiming, soul-deep kiss as his hips picked up their pace, driving into you with reckless abandon now. "All of you, every lush curve. My everything, my goddess, my gorgeous wife. Mine."

You were powerless against the tide of sensation and emotion Harry wrung from you, spiraling higher and quaking apart on a broken cry of his name. Your climax swamped you with blinding pleasure, pulling Harry right over that dizzying edge with you as your convulsive inner walls dragged him under.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck with a soul-deep groan, hips jerking erratically as he poured himself into you. You clung to him as if he was the only thing anchoring you to this world while wave after wave of bliss wracked your joined forms.

By the time the tremors finally began to ebb, you were both slumped bonelessly against the wall, sweaty and utterly spent. Harry shifted just enough to pull you more securely into his arms, face still buried in your neck as you both caught your breath.

Gradually, he began nuzzling soft, reverent kisses along the slope of your shoulder, across your collarbone, up the column of your neck. His large hands stroked soothingly over your back, your sides, cradling you close against his solid warmth.

"My everything," Harry murmured, the words a hushed vow against your overheated skin. "So incredible, so loved."

You hummed softly in contentment, nosing into the damp curls at his temple as you basked in the afterglow. Despite the lingering tremors shooting through your limbs, you felt completely at peace bundled in Harry's embrace.

One of his hands drifted down to settle over the swell of your belly, fingertips tracing idle patterns across the taut skin. "Thank you, darling," he said quietly. "For taking such wonderful care of our littles ones. For giving me this precious gift."

Tilting your head, you met his shining emerald gaze with a tender smile. "As if you need to thank me for that. This—" You placed your hand atop his, cradling the firm roundness. "This is our gift, H. One I'll never stop being grateful for."

Harry's face did that crinkly thing where his eyes squinted with the force of his smile. Leaning in, he brushed his lips sweetly, reverently across yours.

"I love you incredibly, Y/N. Every inch of you, always."

Those words, combined with the sheer depth of adoration in his gaze, had your heart turning over in your chest. You tucked yourself further into his solid frame, relishing his strength and the soothing drag of his fingers over your sated body.

"I love you too," you whispered. "More than anything."

You stayed like that for a long while, trading soft caresses and murmured endearments, until Harry insisted on getting you into a warm bath to relax properly. He drew the water himself while you waited on the plush bed, arranging the tray of sumptuous treats leftover from the gala.

When he emerged wearing only a towel slung low on his hips, you felt your breath catch at the sheer masculine beauty of him. Harry merely quirked an amused brow at your reaction before holding out one large hand.

"Shall we, gorgeous? I'll even feed you those petit fours you've been eyeing, if you'reopen to it."

You took his proffered hand with a giggle, allowing him to lead you to the ensuite bathroom where aromatic oils wafted through the air and the enormous tub awaited. Harry situated you between his legs, your back to his chest, before plucking one of the miniature chocolate cakes from the tray nearby.

He presented the treat before your lips with a soft, "Open up, darling," and you obliged with a smug grin. The rich sweetness melted over your tongue as you accepted each bite Harry slipped past your lips with careful reverence.

Eventually, you drifted off into a light doze, replete and cocooned in Harry's tender embrace. He continued soothing you with quiet praise and gentle caresses, not even bothering to rouse you until the bath water started to cool.

You awoke to Harry murmuring instructions to dry off and slip into some comfy pajamas. He watched you through hooded eyes as you complied, admiring the new softness and curves that pregnancy had gifted you. With a tender smile, he ushered you back toward the bedroom, already turned down and cozy.

As you snuggled beneath the plush duvet, Harry slid in behind you, his chest warm against your back and one large palm splaying over the firm swell of your belly. You sighed in pure contentment, feeling cherished and utterly adored.

"I meant what I said earlier, you know," Harry rumbled, the words a quiet rumble against your nape. His thumb stroked soothing arcs over your stomach. "This new lush, fertile body of yours is utter perfection. I'll never stop worshipping it, worshipping you."

You bit your lip on a pleased smile, arching back against his solid frame. His free hand slid around to cup your breast, and you shivered at the careful, weighted touch.

"Let me take such good care of you both," he murmured, ducking his head to trail kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck as he cradled your heavy breast. "Make sure you stay well-fed in every way, satisfied, comfortable...like the goddesses you are."

With a blissful sigh, you melted fully into Harry's tender embrace. Every word, each featherlight caress was a balm to the lingering worries of your earlier self-consciousness. He adored this pregnancy body - round and soft and beautiful - and you knew he would move heaven and earth to ensure you felt utterly cherished and revered through it all.

Safe and loved in Harry's arms, you allowed your eyes to slip closed once more, reassured that whatever cravings or changes came next, you wouldn't face them alone. You'd meet them together.

*

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[sushistyless]

Kisses in kiwi flavour.

just some early morning love between Y/N and H.

1.2k (blurb). My masterlist!

——————

“Mhm,” Harry grumbles sleepily as he wraps his tatted arms around Y/N’s waist, encasing her with his strong chest. His arrival in their tiny kitchen (but cozy— they’d add) catches her by surprise, a breathy laugh leaving her lips. She melts into his touch, liking the pattern his fingers make as they skate on the bare skin that’s revealed from the way he rucks her (well, previously his) shirt.

“What’s m’precious doing up so early?” He bends down some, the raspy notes of his voice resonating against her neck, and the feel of his lips curving against the canvas of her skin as he speaks slowly.

Y/N breathes in deeply, a smile blooming on her face from his words alone. She flips a pancake, noticing how the golden brown colour on it has spread evenly, and plops it over onto the ceramic plate kept on the side. She nestles further into him as she does so, and Harry’s hold on her tightens, his face now buried in the crook of her neck as he inhales her scent— rosemary and… cinnamon? — revelling in the knowledge that he now has her full attention.

“She’s making pancakes for you. She’s amazing actually.”

Harry grins hazily at her response, kissing her neck and skating his palms gently along her soft waist before giving her love handles a little squeeze. “Don’t doubt that. My dodo is amazing.”

Y/N bites her lip in efforts to stifle her own fluttering laugh, cushioning her head back on his bicep, and leaning back into him. She twists her head to look up at him, fondly gazing over his features while he continues to talk in the drawly velvety voice of his, “But as wonderful as tha’ is, she left me without m’cuddles this morning.” He pouts, giving her puppy dog eyes that are way too easy to fall for, Y/N thinks. “And I need m’girl to give me my daily dose of cuddles t’function.”

He was such a dodo too.

“Oh no,” Y/N gasps dramatically, “How will you live now? I’m getting worked up just thinking about it—” She pretends to faint on his arm, animatedly throwing a hand over her heart and closing her eyes.

“Hey,” Harry warns, the muscles in his cheek resisting the usual urge to twitch into a grin, “She should know that I have her in my arms— in m’clutches— right this second.”

Y/N blows a raspberry, not giving much regard to the threat, instead fanning her hands in front of her face, “Yeah, yeah, right. Like tha—" Her sentence is cut short however, when Harry’s hands move to tickle her sides. A bubble of chirpy laughter immediately bubble out of her system, as she curls into herself as a built in mechanism.

“H-Harry!” She squirms in his embrace, laughs pouring out her lungs, grappling to hold onto his wrists which is almost impossible considering his tactful tickle skills. And even when she does manage to get a hold of him, he’s way too strong for her to move especially when she’s already in an annoyingly compromised situation. “

“Yeah?” He beams, deep dimples making little craters in his cheeks, “Don’t worry now. Her laughs have resurrected me.” His fingers continue to squiggle around her sides until his arms wrap around her form completely, fully holding her to him.

He decides to relieve her by planting a big smooch on her cheek, and there’s quiet in the room from her breathing finally slowing down, heavy pants and little laughs leaving her lips as she calms down. Her fingers move to thread around with Harry’s, a pulse in his grip as she does so.

“Boo you, H,” she beams, panting out, “Absolute meanie.” She shakes her head, eyes betraying her quest to stay unaffected as if they remain with a blushy, joyful little twinkle in her crinkled eyes.

Harry only stares back at her, the biggest smile pulling on his lips. He watches the sparkle in her eyes, happiness cradling his heart at the fact that he could be the cause of that.

“I wanna kiss you, now.” Harry whispers and flips her to face him completely, entranced by the sight of his idiot. His lover. His dodo.

His.

“Yeah?” she counters, slowly pushing herself up to sit on the now empty, slightly flour-y counter. Harry catches on and guides her by the hips, assisting her.

“Yeah.”

That’s when she pops a piece of kiwi from the bowl on the counter into her mouth.

A glint in her eyes is next slowly, and before he knows it, she’s chewing on it.

“Aish. Too bad. Toooo, too bad.” She lets out a soft giggle as she chews, hand covering her mouth, “Such deprivation this is for you. How can you kiss me, when I-I’m eating, Hm?”

“Oh, no.” He smirks at her, “S’bad manners to talk while eating.” He brushes a strand of hair out of his face, his teasing and banter with her mischievous, actions tender. He scrunches his nose some, “Guess it’s time for me to break a rule too, then.”

He moves forward and nudges his nose with hers, and Y/N helps, giggling softly as she pulls back, chewing with her mouth still covered by her hand, a bit of the kiwi juice trickling down her lips. “H! Oh my god, you are—"

“— much less clumsy than you? Yeah, you messy girl. I am.” He grins showing his usual dimples, eyes far too busy twinkling into taking her features as he brings up his thumb and carefully swipes away the little bit of kiwi juice trickling down her chin.

Y/N giggles softly, with a shy glow in her eyes as he does so, finishing her bite. Just as she’s done, in a moment of bold mischief she tries to reach for the bowl again.

“Ah, ah— ahh. Nope.” Harry’s hand immediately reaches for her, pulling it back, a lopsided smile tugging on his lips. “You menace.”

“Oh, I’m the menace?”

“‘Course you are. You’re dodging m’kisses.”

“I’m eating, H! I-" she bubbles out in a laugh, cut off by him.

“Is it ‘cause I ate that last donut you wanted yesterday?” He now pouts, his hold on her tightening as he bends a bit and nudges her nose with his. “Aw, and now you’re upset, Hm?”

She pouts a bit herself, laughing breathily, as she noses back at his nose, eyes closed. “See? You’re so mean. You’re not even sorry about it.”

“‘M such a meanie,” Harry says with a little smile, his eyes fluttering shut as he rests his forehead against hers.

Y/N finally leans in and kisses him, eyes closed too, as the soft touch of her hands behind his neck send tingles down his spine. Supple lips locked in a sweet dance with hers, harry deepens the kiss, tilting his jaw and pulling her flush against his chest, strong arms tightening against her soft frame.

He pulls away barely, eyes full of tender affection as he looks at her own irises, filled with a shy, excited tinge.

He whispers soft, eyelashes fluttering close to hers in a butterfly kiss, “Mmh. Y’taste like Kiwi.”

She kisses him back, barely able to contain her own shy little smile, “And you owe me a donut.”

———

ah, thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and liking! 🤍

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (ii) - pt 1 here!!

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : matt is still a grumpy ass but y/n can't seem to get him off of her mind.

warnings : idk uhhh matt’s rude but in a love hate kinda way 😋! also alcohol/drinking (i headcannon everyone 21+!)

mickey speaks : shes finally hereeeee and shes kinda long. im hoping to post more consistently!! luv u guys enjoy <3 ignore the fact that the pic above has a yt girl in it this story is for everyone i promise !!!! i just liked the little green vibe ok? ok.

THIS IS PART TWO GO READ PART ONE FIRST DUH!!!!

AND of course you see matt again.

only a month ago, you were introduced and forced to spend an hour of your time in close proximity to him, no matter his disinterest. yet, also, only a month ago, were you gifted with the cutest tiny tattoo that continues to surprise you a little whenever you lift your shirt before a warm shower.

it hasn’t bothered you nearly as much as you'd assumed - only disrupting your life with the caution you now take to avoid irritating the skin at your lower stomach. though some nights you grow lazy, you’ve maintained a very disciplined attitude of incorporating time in your morning and nightly rituals to ensure the tiny hello kitty inked on you is properly cared for.

contrary, your interactions with matt bothered you far more than you assumed. your sub-concious must've held onto your attempts to break past his careless attitude (that greatly opposed your own people-pleasing nature) just to pettily haunt you. but you've you forced yourself to get over it at this point. you just had to after one night, the week following your tattoo appointment (and after a long day of rude professors and pretentious customers blaming you for their own mistakes), you broke down to andrea:

you sniffle before your voice breaks again, "everyone's just mean. and- and i was so fucking annoying last saturday. it keeps playing over in my head. i'm so embarrassed and i just know he hated me, but i dont know why?! i thought i was nice enough. he could've just smiled or maybe just- i-"

andrea pauses from petting your head, "honey, you're not still talking about the guy who tatted you, right?" you look up at her from your head's soft spot in her lap with glossy eyes and a quivering lip.

"dre-" you choke.

"oh my god! no! y/n, you can't take shit like that personal. not everyone enjoys talking or happiness for that matter, you can't hold on to something like that. i promise he's not too hung up on it himself." she wipes away one of your pitiful tears.

and here he is, standing across the room from you at a party.

you definitely did not expect to see matt (who’s mild attitude was clearly fueled by socializing) in this scene but you guess that la parties are just like that. as long as you know someone who knows someone you’re easily in, that's how you tend to get into these events at least. though an insta stalk would tell you matt has enough clout to get himself in, he and his brothers have built quite the brand for themselves among la socialites.

once your eyes spot him over the shoulder of some guy who just introduced himself to you, they can’t seem to move. you watch as matt smiles for a photo with a few others. matt. smiles. okay, so maybe it was a you problem. he doesn’t hate everyone maybe just you.

though, your thoughts are denied as quickly as his face drops. he doesn’t even care to look at how the image may have turned out like the rest of the group. instead, his eyes opt to watching the people around him as he sips his weak drink.

great, now you’ve become the weirdo watching him watch other people.

until his eyes catch your cautious yet curious stare from across the room. your cheeks heat and you’re immediately shifting your eyes back to the man in front of you.

matt almost smirks at his luck. no fucking way the scared sweetheart he’d tattooed just a few weeks ago is here. he looks away when someone lays a hand on his shoulder to bring him back into the conversation. you're surprised that he continues to look back over to you after adding his input.

the guy finally acknowledges your disengagement with the story about his new motorcycle and turns to see what exactly you’re staring at. he sees matt and turns back to you, “you know him?”

“yeah. well not like know-know we only met once, he gave me a tattoo.”

“oh, cool,” he looks back over to matt and turns back to you once again, “is he bothering you?”

your face scrunches initially, “no, it’s fine.” you smile at him, not wanting to give him the impression that matt did anything but exist (which apparently is enough to capture your attention).

“good. wanna go grab another drink and tell me more about this tattoo?” a charming smile morphs on face and you nod your head easily, taking his hand and leading him towards the bar outside of this large home. and away from matt.

“two-” you look over to the man beside you, “wait is this an open bar?” you ask him genuinely and he laughs a little at your aloofness.

“yeah,” he nods.

“perfect, we’ll take two kamikaze shots pretty please!” you smile at the bartender who seems to be enjoying her night quite a bit and squeeze his hand when you realize it’s still in your own. he looks down at your attached hands then back to you.

you turn your body to face him more directly and lean up to his ear, cupping your hand and whispering, “i’m so sorry, i think i forgot your name.” you were starting to feel bad and just had to confess.

you lean back and bite your lip to hide an awkward smile, and he somehow smiles harder than he already was, “it’s-”

“ashton!” you hear a voice yell hurriedly and now some dark haired guy is pulling him away from you and repeatedly saying “code red!” in his face. and suddenly, without any indication he’d enjoyed your short lived time together, he’s gone.

you try not to sulk but he was an attractive guy with easy conversation, so you at least hoped to get his number by the end of the night.

instead, you’re left leaning against the bar hoping those shots come around soon. you decide to update your friends on your night:

Y/N

cute guy lefttttt :(

REMI

noooooo he was so cute 😫

Y/N

don’t remind me

ANDREA

where r you now???

Y/N

outside bar, im waiting on shots

Y/N

come find me💔💔

your head shoots up from your phone when three guys practically ram themselves into the bar near you, a few people around them laughing obnoxiously.

"god damnit, chris! we said we were going slowly!"

"shhhh. you are so loud, matt!"

“excuse me, can we get some water? none of the sparkles or bubbles and shit, just water, please.”

“next time i'm speaking for myself! what if i wanted the bubbles?”

you lean your head a little to get a full view of the three recognizable faces. chris, with his arms dangled over his two brothers’ shoulders clearly obliterated and slurring his words (but excited to be there nonetheless). a blonde one, you haven’t gotten the chance to meet yet, with two nose piercings and a commanding voice. and matt, with his signature pout, even poutier now that chris’ weight is causing him to hunch over slightly. you guess you were bound to run into them.

you wonder if andrea was right in saying matt hadn’t held onto your exchange. you wonder if when he saw you earlier he remembered you for your friendly smile rather than your annoying nagging. or did he even remember you at all? did he only look at you because you were staring him down first? okay, where the fuck are those shots?!

“no way!" you hear chris’ voice screech upon recognizing you from across the bar, "y/n!?”

you look over and see him shockingly excited to see your face again. you smile in an attempt to not allow your nerves about matt get to you. you are never one to deny a conversation after all.

“oh my god! hi!” you reply as chris unwraps himself from his brothers and moves closer to you.

“how’s your tat treatin’ you?” his eyes express so much excitement he reminds you of a little kid. you’re very flattered to see someone feel so much emotion due to your mere presence.

“oh, it’s still so cute, no regrets so far. i love it.” you smile and he nods while you’re speaking.

he turns around and sees his brothers and a few friends remaining in the other side of the bar talking amongst themselves. “yo, get the fuck over here! why are you guys so far?” he encourages them with a hand wave.

you wave as well, trying not to be a total stranger- even if you are.

the blonde guy leads them over and hands chris a glass of water that must’ve been waiting on him.

“cheers,” chris smirks and takes a sip before a disgusted look takes over his face, “gross. my god! why do they make this shit so bland?”

the blonde boy rolls his eyes in amusement, mumbling, "just drink it," before approaching you kindly. "hey, i’m nick by the way."

“y/n, nice to meet you! i met chris and matt when i got my tattoo done at your shop a while ago.” you explain kindly.

before nick can get another word in a female voice is squealing, “you’re y/n?! hi, i’m asha, i don't know if your remember but we talked on the phone that one time!” a tanned girl with soft cheeks and dark loose curls moves herself in front of the boys.

“of course i remember, how could i forget that insane frog story? it's so nice seeing you in person finally!” you gush.

suddenly chris is beaming, “aww wait guys this is so cute! i’m feeling like we should all hug!” he nods to his brothers who are quick to shake their heads no.

“i don’t think..” nick starts.

“nooo! let’s hug!” chris argues and opens his arms wide gesturing for everyone to hug him.

౨ৎ

after sharing a very drunk and messy group hug you all continue to talk until chris finally blurts, "i gotta go pee so bad guys, " he laughs, "but i need people with me because if i walk in on someone puking, then what? i'll die from my severe" (its not severe at all) "emetophobia and no one will ever know?"

you and asha (who you've found is actually so similar to you) both laugh at his crisis.

matt just breathes a laugh.

"chris, there’s no reason to go further with the fear factor when no one said they wouldn't come with you. i’m coming, so you're not gonna die, let's go." nick shakes his head.

“you don’t understand, nick i would be dead and covered in- i can’t even say it, dude,” chris’ voice fades as they walk away.

"wait, i'll walk with you guys inside! 'm... getting cold out here!" asha suddenly says removing herself from your side and waving goodbye with a drunk smile.

"it's not cold at all, she's trippin'" matt speaks watching her run and practically jump onto nick, causing the three laugh while leaving the crowded yard.

you just shrug and lean onto the bar again, making eye contact with the bartender who looks as if she only just remembered your existence but also seems to mentally question where the other guy went and how you managed to replace him that quickly.

"are you always so nice about everything?" matt questions, leaning his forearms on the bar, still looking at you.

"what?" you look over to him now, feeling almost sick at his proximity.

he mocks you with a high tone in his voice, "'it's soooo nice to meet you! it's soooo nice seeing you!' it sounds exhausting, to be honest."

"didn't realize having manners got you jail time," you breathe.

"and i never said it did."

"well, i don't have to be nice to you if it bothers you so much," you shrug.

"aw, sunshine, you'd do that for me? you're too sweet." he almost laughs at his own sarcastic comment.

you lick your bottom lip out of habit, "why are you still here? don't you have friends you should be ignoring?" you hope he can't tell just how frustrated he's making you.

“you must think you know me.”

“i know you don’t like me.”

“wrong, again.” he smiles and points his finger at you.

“oh, you just don’t like anyone then?”

he glances away before responding, “what's the fun in telling you?”

you huff in defeat, wanting nothing more than those shots right now. though your subconcious hopes the bartender continues to prioritize her flirting customers over you just so you can continue this addicting back and forth with matt.

"you know, that’s the thing with people like you. you think everyone owes you everything." he shakes his head.

"people like me?” you scoff under your breath, “matt, why are you still here?"

he can pick out the offense in your tone, "oh shit, that was true? i was fucking with you, sunny!"

"you don't know anything about me," you laugh and shake your head.

"alright there are those kamikaze shots for you! so sorry about that major delay, honey!" the bartender sets the shots in front of the both of you and smiles at you apologetically.

"don't worry about it, thank you!" you hand her a spare five dollar bill from your back pocket.

when she's gone you finally notice matt's widened eyes.

"what's up with your face, now?"

"you gave her a tip for pouring you some rankydank, fuckin' low level shots after you've waited long enough for her to apologize?" he seems genuinely shocked.

"she only makes money off of tips," you roll your eyes, picking the shot up and gesturing towards the second shot for him to take.

"that's all you," he raises his hands towards his chest.

"oh my god, do it, matt."

he shakes his head and points to you, "you take your shot, sweetheart."

"i knew you wouldn't, pussy," you say under your breath before smirking as you down the alcohol you've been craving since you first saw his face.

upon your insult matt is immediately taking the shot along side you. and just as both of your faces adjust to the taste, matt's phone begins to vibrate.

he grabs it and you attempt to hide your own curiosity by asking the bartender for a lime to suck on (not daring to ask for alcohol again because you simply don't want to be hung up at this bar for any longer).

"yeah, yeah still here," matt plays with his bottom lip and looks down at you with your mouth full of lime. he thinks you look pretty adorable, especially under the blush pink fairy lights hanging above the bar. "'kay, i'll be quick. alright, nick. i will. bye."

he puts his phone away and wipes his mouth, "that shit was fucking vile, by the way."

"okay, drama queen."

"mhm," his face falters back into his usual pout, "well i gotta go, but, um, nick wanted me to invite you to this get together thing we host at the warehouse, it's in like a month but, you know, come if you want." he shrugs.

"tell him of course i will, but only because he asked." you smile sarcastically.

౨ৎ

ANDREA - 12:39 AM

y/n where are you we are both so confused rn help

ANDREA - 12:45 AM

hellooo????

ANDREA - 12:47 AM

GIRL WE'RE OUTSIDE AND WE DONT SEE YOU TF

Y/N - 1:06 AM

WHERE ARE U GUYS RN I JSUT SAW TATTOO GUY AGASSN IM LOSUNG MY MIND JUST A LUTTLE BIT

Y/N - 1:06 AM

I WAS AT THE OTHER OITSIDE BAR IN THE FRONT(?) YARD!!!!! but its ok im gonba find u guys

౨ৎ

a few days later matt comes across your instagram story, forgetting he had followed you in the first place. it was a picture of you and your friends from the same night he had seen you again. it's a simple mirror photo where you're all smiling but besides your soft skin and cute outfit, matt's attention focuses on frank ocean's pyramids playing over the story.

you see the notification later that day when you finally get time on your phone:

matthew.sturniolo liked your story

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

[its-the-allure]

Collaboration with @itsphantasmagoria

3500 words, explicit. 8th year, down and out Draco Malfoy, first time.

Summary:

Draco Malfoy returns to a mandatory eighth year at Hogwarts with a massive crush on Harry Potter. Harry has returned wearing eyeliner and black nail polish. Draco never thought he’d be into this look on a man, but has to admit, it’s working for Potter. It’s also working for Draco.

[mugentakeda]

not even harvards top scientists could understand the complexities of the azula-iroh beef lore that i made up in my head

(silly bonus under the cut)

[hellsite-hall-of-ex-girlfriend]

[smollangrycat]

I Wish I Had Wings

Mom

————

OJ was slumped over her desk, hyper focused on her report - she promised it would be finished by Friday and it was no where near done. 

Groaning she threw her head back and spun on her chair but came to a jerking stop when someone grabbed the back of her chair. OJ momentarily caught off guard, yelped as she was almost flung from the chair. Wiping her head up as fast as she can to confront whoever thought it would be a good idea to almost give her a heart attack.

OJ - “Hey what the he….”

OJs mouth went dry as she met her mothers eyes, she swallowed thickly all words that were dancing in her tongue had suddenly disappeared as a nervous expression molded itself onto his face.

Kate stared at her daughter a slight look of annoyance on her face. Kate has a … difficult relationship with her daughter - It tends to happen when you leave your nine year old for six years and wake up to a fifteen year old who you know nothing about.

Kate - “Joe, I see you’re working hard.”

It was forced and awkward but she was trying and OJ was grateful for that. Kate didn’t try often but OJ enjoyed the moments where her mother took interest in her.

OJ smiled slightly.

OJ - “Yeah I promised to have this report done by the end of the week, it still has a lot of work to be done on it before I can say it’s finished but I’m getting there.”

Kate wished she could say she heard what her daughter said but that would be a lie. While OJ was explaining her work Kate stared intently at the faint, small scar that sat just about OJs eyebrow.

She had done that, years ago now but it felt like it was yesterday.

(Flashback)

Kate finished filling out the paperwork that was handed to her, a contract stating that if something where to happen to her child in the six years that it would take to get to Pandora that the RDA not the company could be held responsible.

Kate signed it without a second thought, if this is what it would take to bring her daughter with her then she’d do it. She’d do anything.

Handing it back to the whoever the hell was dealing with the legal shit Kate watched as the man made a swift exit after sighting his own name.

After a few more moments Joe was brought into the room, wide eyed and curious. Kate smiled as she wrapped her daughter into a hug before pulling back an examining her. Joes hair was pulled into a tight military bun and she had a modified RDA jumpsuit and black shirt on underneath. Joe smiled at her mom holding her hand as they made their way out of that room and onto the ships holding bay. The ship that would take them to Pandora, the ship that would take them to their new lives.

Kate lined up with the other soldiers before being personally escorted to the front by one of the staff as she was to be in charge of weaponry and safety alongside Miles Quadritch - a good personal friend of hers. So she was taken to be debriefed on her new role and her responsibility’s that she would have once they reached Pandora.

However, before she left Kate pulled Joe into a hug. The older woman pulled away, looking her daughter in the eyes.

Kate - “I’ll see you soon.”

Joe nodded.

Joe - “Love you mom.”

Kate nodded before kissing Joes fore head and turning to follow the staff member from earlier.

The next time Kate saw her daughter was six years later.

The woman had settled into the makeshift cafeteria on the ship, tired and hungry from her six years in cryo.

Kate snacked on some dried artificial fruits and as she waited for one of the staff to bring her daughter to her. 

 So let’s just say she was more than a little surprised when a copper haired girl with her grey eyes introduced herself to Kate as her daughter.

Joe - “Hey mom, it’s been awhile.”

Joe moved closer to the older woman ready to embrace her, it had been six years since the girl had last been in her mothers arms and in all honesty she had missed it.

In a moment of panic, wondering where her little girl had gone only for a fifteen year old to be claiming to be said little girl. She lashed out, striking the girl face when she got too close - catching the teenagers skin on her wedding band. Kate watched as droplets of blood slid down the girls face and the girl recoiled, covering the injured area with her hand as she took a few shakey steps backwards.

Kate will never forget the look in the girls eyes - fear, confusion and what stung most of all … betrayal.

(End of flashback)

OJ waited expectantly but Kate had nothing to say, just gave a curt nod.

Kate - “You will be joining Grace and her team as the medic, you will show Sully how Pandora works. Am I clear.”

OJ sighs, she had been so naive to think that her mother was actually interested in her. The girl nodded and watched the older woman’s swift retreat out of the labs.

It took a moment for OJ to settle back down, her feathers successfully ruffled. She combed a hand through her curly hair and winced as it snagged on a particularly large curl.

———

Trudy watched as OJ threw hands with the punching bag. Concern laced her features as she watched her friend - OJ was shaky and frustrated.

It was all HER fault.

Trudy didn’t like Kate, didn’t like they way she spoke to OJ or the way OJ would flinch if Kate got to close. Her momentary mental bitch about the woman stoped as the sound of hushed shudders caught her attention.

Trudy frowned as she enveloped OJ who continued to break down. The room was empty apart from the two women so OJ allowed herself a few moments to fall apart before collecting herself.

Trudy continued to hold her close and once OJ had composed herself a big smile made its way back into the freckles girls face. Trudy watch in aw, she had seen OJ break down the pull the peace’s back together.

The two girls headed to the canteen where they are dinner together while sharing funny stories from the early years in Pandora.  

OJ might of missed it but Trudy could see from the corner of her eye the frequent glances that the newbie marine was giving her friend, a cheeky smile covered her own face.

—————-

——————————-

@mxyz-nex

@inutheangel

@abbersreads

@mashiromochi

@emery-aka-emmy

@octavias-next-meat-bite

@sophiexoxo-lol

@ksata

@just-another-queer-writer

@quietshyashlyn19

@kitkat27

[fabled-lady-twilla]

How it feels being a ShigaDeku shipper in this fandom. Why is everyone so mean? 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[transformativeworks]

I'm not sure if this is the place to ask. I am in a bit of a trouble as I wrote a 8k word chapter. I am wondering if this is just too long. Cutting it in half wouldn't be satisfactory, but doable. Would it be better to cut it or leave it that long? I might be able to cut some things from the story and come down to 7k. I need advice.

Hey Nonnie -

I am merely a tumblr mod, so this advice is coming from an avid fic reader and not the OTW hivemind (if there is one, I have not yet been invited to that groupchat)

Do what brings you joy. Writing fic is supposed to be fun. It is a labor of love that you send out into the void because your passion cannot be contained.

There is not a specific wordcount that makes a chapter Correct. I (personally) have never in my days noticed how long a chapter was, since I always click on Entire Work.

I probably would have sent a private reply, but instead we shall ask the tumblr community -

~ Mod Remi

[mercurysketches]

uhhhhh comfort copia

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt. 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

Cinderella wakes to birdsong.

It brings her to tears. She tangles her fingers in the soft bedcovers, pulling them up and over her face. Her tears blur the gentle light seeping through the fabric so that she feels like she might still be dreaming. Her body is pleasantly sore from dancing, but not hurting like it does after a day of chores. Her hair smells of the gentle oils Helga patiently brushed into it rather than fireplace soot. The gnawing loneliness that’s accompanied her for so many years is wonderfully quiet, soothed by the long evening spent in the arms of her friend.

The Prince.

Cinderella huffs a laugh, disbelieving, and pulls the sheets away from her face. Her room is pleasantly cool, the air brisk though the windows aren’t open. She breathes in deeply. Her friend is the Prince. Her impossible, magic-wielding friend who saved her life and listened to her worries and always made her laugh is the prince.

And he’s a hell of a dancer too.

Even the memory of their dances thrills her. Cinderella jumps out of bed , unable to bear the sudden surge of energy coursing through her, and braces for the shock of cold stone against her bare feet. It never comes. Instead, the floor hums with the sort of warmth she’s begun to associate with magic. Cinderella laughs and sways to the window, humming portions of the previous night’s songs under her breath.

The people! The music! The colors! Her memory is a kaleidoscope of everything beautiful she’s ever seen in her entire life. At the center of it all is her friend and his gentle smile, his hand outstretched for hers.

Cinderella eases the window open. She’d been too nervous to take a proper look outside yesterday, but today is a different story. For all the elation she feels, there’s also something settled inside of her. A sort of contentment that sits at the bottom of her stomach where it won’t be easily swayed. So she opens the window without worrying if she’s allowed to do so and takes in a lungful of fresh morning air.

“The late Queen’s gardens,” Helga says from the doorway. Cinderella turns to find Helga with a breakfast tray balanced on one hand and a letter held in the other. Helga’s eyes sparkle. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

They are. Cinderella was listening to the birds and not looking at the garden, but she knows it’s true. The greenery is lush and well-maintained, the flowers blooming big and beautiful along a carefully swept path. She can hear water from beyond a row of hedges. A fountain?

“Everything is beautiful,” Cinderella says. The Prince’s green eyes against the night sky comes to mind and Cinderella’s heart flips. She clears her throat. “The grounds. The castle. It’s all very beautiful.”

Helga hums and closes the door with her foot. “Would you like to sit by the window then?”

“Yes,” Cinderella says. The idea of eating the croissant and eggs Helga brought while listening to the birds and watching the flowers gently sway in the breeze is so wonderful that Cinderella doesn’t see the problem right away. She frowns and looks around the bedroom. Besides the bed and the vanity, there’s not much more furniture in the room. “I can help you with some chairs…?”

Helga laughs and waves the hand holding the letter. “Don’t be silly, dear. It will only take a moment.”

Cinderella has to bite her tongue to keep from yelping when Helga lets go of the tray suddenly. It doesn’t fall. Instead the food hangs in the air as if set on an invisible table. Helga whips out her wand and flicks it at the stone near the window.

A chair and a small garden table rise from the floor, melting in reverse. The table is set with a series of dainty forks and a crystal glass. After a moment’s thought, Helga waves her wand again and a bottle of orange juice appears.

“Wow,” Cinderella says.

Helga is frowning. “Yes, well, it will do. Somehow, I always conjure garden furniture even when I had the loveliest tea table in mind…” She busies herself setting up the breakfast tray. “Come now, sit, sit, sit. Before everything gets cold.”

Cinderella doesn’t move. She’s never noticed it before because of the low lighting at night, but Helga’s magic looks a little like her friend’s magic. There aren’t as many colors and it’s very faint, but when the sunlight catches it just right, the air shines. As she watches, the shine sinks into the floor until the chair and table look as mundane as can be. Cinderella is fascinated. “How does that work?”

“How does what work?” Helga asks absently. She holds the orange juice up to the light, squinting at it. “I swear I meant to conjure peach juice…”

“The conjuring magic,” Cinderella says. She waves her hand to the table and chair. “That looked different than the floating magic you do.”

That gets Helga’s attention. Her gaze snaps from the orange juice to Cinderella. “Looked?”

“The magic came up from the stone,” Cinderella explains. She waves her hands in a vague approximation of it. “Then, when you finished, it went back.”

Helga doesn’t answer right away. She stares at Cinderella very hard, her gaze piercing, as if trying to see if Cinderella is being serious or not. She chews her cheek and finally says, “You’ve seen a lot of magic?”

Deny it. It’s not a voice, not really. It’s an ancient instinct and Cinderella works very hard to make sure that none of it shows on her face. Carefully, Cinderella shrugs. “No. But my friend uses a lot around me. Sometimes I can guess where it is.”

Slowly Helga’s shoulders relax. “…from exposure makes sense,” she murmurs under her breath. Then, louder, “You shouldn’t look at magic, dear. It can hurt your eyes.”

It doesn’t hurt. Cinderella smiles. “I’ll try not to.”

Satisfied, Helga says, “To answer your question, it looked different because that wasn’t a spell. I don’t have magic, remember?” She twirls her wand. “I use this to direct what my Lord lends me. What I did just then was—well. This castle is very old, yes? It’s got magic of its own that I can ask for help from time to time.”

“The castle did this?” Cinderella asks. She studies the table and chair with renewed interest. They look solid and well-made and the food seems edible. She thinks about the way the magic rose from the ground. “I wonder…”

“Pardon?”

But Cinderella is already extending her hand. The single chair next to the window looks lonely. It would be so wonderful if there was another chair for Helga to sit and have breakfast with her… “If you would?” she asks the castle.

Where the magic curled and bent to Helga’s will, it explodes under Cinderella’s. Another chair springs into existence faster than Cinderella expected. The table extends another foot with a pop! and a second bottle of orange juice appears next to a second glass.

“Oh my,” Cinderella says. She flexes her hand. The magic twines around her fingers before slipping back into the stone floor. She grins. “How wonderful!”

Helga blinks very quickly. “Yes…yes, wonderful.” She studies Cinderella, almost speaks, and then seems to reconsider. Finally, she says, “I take it the second chair is an invitation?”

“Yes,” Cinderella says. Perhaps she should have asked Helga before she acted, but she didn’t feel as if she needed to. Like Helga said, the castle was right there to help. “I would enjoy the company.”

They settle at the little table, Helga pouring juice and serving the breakfast pastries she brought. Cinderella’s feet are warm from the magic sitting so close to the surface of the stone and her heart is warm when, unthinking, Helga spreads jam over a croissant for Cinderella.

“Oh,” Helga says when she notices. She’d been staring into space as she prepared Cinderella’s breakfast and, now, jolts back to herself. There’s a light flush on her cheeks when she says, “Excuse me, my mind was elsewhere. Do you like strawberry jam? I can go to the kitchens for fresh pastries—”

“It’s perfect,” Cinderella assures. She remembers her mother’s hands around a crystal jar of jam, a whisper of just a little before dinner. She takes a bite of her croissant and feels a thrill at the sweetness of the jam. Just like she remembers. “Delicious.”

“An invitation came for you at dawn,” Helga says after a few moments of silent eating. Her eyes sparkle as she draws the envelope out from her skirts and holds it so the sunlight reflects off the golden seal. “I wonder who it could be from?”

The second invitation. The Prince told her it was coming, but Cinderella’s heart flips when she sees it anyway. She takes the envelope from Helga as if it were made of butterfly wings and opens it carefully. The faint smell of oranges drifts from the card inside.

The Baron’s Daughter is hereby cordially invited to the Castle on this day for a continuation of festivities…

Then, at the bottom, her friend has written I’ll pick you up in his own handwriting.

Cinderella strokes the letters of her friend’s writing. Each one is elegantly shaped and perfectly placed. She can imagine him as a boy sitting politely during his lessons, quill clutched tightly in hand, and brow furrowed as he practiced each letter.

“What was he like?” Cinderella asks.

“Pardon?”

“I want to know how the Prince was as a boy,” Cinderella says. When the silence stretches, she looks up from her invitation to see unease on Helga’s face. “Helga?”

“That’s…difficult for me to say,” Helga says.

“Were you not with him as a child? I assumed from the way you spoke…”

“No, I was,” Helga says. She tucks her hands under the table and looks out the window. The sunlight falls across the older woman’s face, highlighting the way the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth deepen when she frowns. “The Prince now and the Prince then are two very separate people. I don’t want to scare you away with stories of a person who no longer exists.”

Cinderella waits for Helga to say more. When the silence again goes on for too long, she prompts, “What do you think would scare me away?”

Again, Helga hesitates. There seems to be a war going on behind her pale eyes. Cinderella thinks that she must be twisting her apron under the table.

“He wasn’t kind,” Helga says at last. She busies herself wiping a stray smear of butter from the table. “Anything more, you’d need to ask him.”

Helga means to end the conversation there. Cinderella could let it end – should let it end – but the words echo. He wasn’t kind.

Cinderella’s first thought is good. She’s glad that her friend wasn’t kind. Cinderella has lived her entire life being kind and she’s seen what rewards are at the end of that road. Good that her friend knew better than to let others extract kindness from him like blood, good he didn’t sleep next to an empty hearth praying for the ones who put him there to return kindness with affection, good that he protected himself in a way Cinderella never could.

Cinderella’s second thought is why? Why did Helga sound apologetic? Did she think Cinderella would think less of him?

“When I was a little girl,” Cinderella finds herself saying, “I spent many hours in the garden.” She looks out the window and sees a different garden than the former Queen’s. She sees roses and sprigs of lavender as far as the eye can see. Her mother’s garden. “My mother had quite the green thumb. The things she could grow! I was so young then and didn’t have much reference, but it seemed as if every flower bloomed bigger and every bush grew fuller under her touch.”

“That’s quite the gift,” Helga says.

Cinderella hums. She loved her mother best in the garden. When her mother waited for her father by the window, she seemed colder and more distant. In the garden, her mother smiled. “It was. If we lived anywhere else, we would have had butterflies all year round. But being where the estate is, we only had a few weeks in spring and a little in fall when the butterflies would pass through the garden on their way to the Capital.”

“I didn’t realize you come from so far west,” Helga says.

Cinderella nods. “Near the mountains.” She finds her gaze being pulled toward the west as she talks. How far away is her home? At least a week’s ride by carriage. “I always waited for the butterflies to visit. One day, when I was very young, I woke up to see they’d come during the night. I raced outside to see them up close. There weren’t many of them yet, just a few, and I had the good luck to spot one resting on the ground.” Cinderella’s lip curls. “Only it wasn’t resting any longer. It had the misfortune to land on an anthill. The ants were hungry, I suppose. They were tearing the butterfly apart piece by piece.”

Even now she remembers the sick horror that filled her at the sight. The vicious hold the ants had on the blue wings, pinning the poor thing to the ground. The way the butterfly’s antennae waved in panic. The smell of the ants as they poured from their mound to feast.

“How awful,” Helga says. She’s watching Cinderella carefully, her hands still in her lap. “What happened then?”

“Nature,” Cinderella says. She feels as if her mouth is not her own when she says, “There’s nothing awful about nature. The ants needed food after the harsh winter and the butterfly was unlucky. It wasn’t the ants’ fault that they killed the butterfly. It was simply nature.” Cinderella breathes in through her nose and stiffens like a woman freed from a trance. “That’s what my mother said when she caught me killing the ants.”

A sense memory: her shiny black shoes coming down on the damp, red dirt as she collapsed the ant hill. The flecks of mud that splattered her ankles when she crushed their exoskeletons under her heel. Her mother’s hand hot on her shoulder. The percussive force of her mother’s shout ringing in her ears.

“She told me that I needed to try and understand the ants,” Cinderella continues. Her feet aren’t cold and muddy now. They’re warm from the magic coating them, tucked neatly under her chair. “She understood I was upset about the butterfly, but being upset was no excuse for the violence I responded with. I shouldn’t have punished the ants for what was in their nature to do.”

“A wise woman.”

Cinderella smiles with closed lips. The sun is well and truly risen now and its harsh rays feel hot against Cinderella’s cheek and collarbones. “A kind woman.”

“Ah,” Helga says, understanding.

Cinderella wonders what it is Helga’s understood. “Hm?”

Helga weighs each word carefully. “If I may offer my two cents, my lady?” When Cinderella nods, she says, “Your mother was right that it was in the ants’ nature to kill.”

Why is she disappointed in Helga’s response? Cinderella sips her juice to hide her frown. “That’s true.”

“However,” Helga says, “nature does not protect one from another’s nature. Yes, it was in the ants’ nature to eat the butterfly. But perhaps it is in your nature to kill ants for tormenting butterflies.”

Cinderella sets down her juice and gives Helga her full attention.

“Considering that,” Helga says lightly, “was it so wrong to kill them for hurting something that meant so much to you?”

Oh. Cinderella swallows, desperately willing away the ache in her throat. Her lip trembles. Helga is looking at her with such deep understanding that Cinderella feels shaken to her core.

All these years and she understands now why her mother’s words bothered her so much. Her mother always seemed to think Cinderella should behave as if nothing affected her, not her mother’s absence, not her father absence, and not the violence of the ants against the butterfly. Helga is saying the opposite. Of course, Cinderella acted that way. Of course! Like the ants, Cinderella also had a nature. Cinderella, like the ants, also had a right to act the way she did.

A knot she didn’t know existed unravels in her chest. Cinderella doesn’t need to sit quietly when an injustice is being done to her or others. She doesn’t need to make excuses for the aggressor or understand their motives. She can act. She can defend. She can protect herself.

(It was never about the ants at all.)

Cinderella clears her throat. “Yes.” Thank you. She can’t bring herself to say the words. “I’d like to wear the blue dress tonight.”

“We had to rush getting ready last night,” Helga says. She reaches across the table to place her hand on top of Cinderella’s. It’s cooler than the sunlight but warms Cinderella all the same. “Why don’t we take out time getting ready, hm?”

“I’d like that,” Cinderella says.

--------

Thanks for reading!

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