#please tap each image for better quality

[sofancydancy]

From a Schitt's Creek quote, feat. my Tav, Aura!

[graedari]

What if I made an animated phone bg for myself 🥺​👉​👈​ (also thank you tumblr for just absolutely demolishing the quality. Bang-up job there guys)

Feel free to use as long as you don’t remove my signature and give proper credit if someone asks!

[Video ID: An animated digital drawing of Jonathan Sims from the podcast “The Magnus Archives”. Jon is depicted with long brown hair with various gray streaks in it. He is wearing a forest green waist-coat with gold buttons over a white button-down that he has the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He is wearing khaki pants and has a slight stubble. Across both his arms and the right side of his face are various circle-shaped scars and his left hand has a large burn scar on the palm and fingers. He is posed with both his hands outstretched, palms up and is looking directly at the viewer. Behind him is white text that reads, “ceaseless watcher turn your gaze upon this wretched thing”. The image animates to have the edge of the screen glow a bright green. As the light gets brighter, eyes begin to open and blink across Jon’s body; one in each of his palms, one on his forehead, two under each eye, one on his neck, and several over each of his forearms. They all glow bright green as well. Behind Jon and above the text, a large green eye opens and glows as well. /End ID]

Enjoy some stills below the cut!

(please click/tap for better quality!)

[Image ID:

Image 1: A frame from the video; Jon looking at the viewer with his eyes open. The light is at it’s brightest.

Image 2: A frame from the video; Jon is looking at the viewer, his eyes open. There is no lighting or special effects; just a black background. 

/End ID]

[crazybutgood]

Birthday origami: lumosatnight

The lovely @digthewriter bought me a ko-fi and said to use it as a 'pass it forward' ❤️ I thought I’d take the opportunity to fold something for @lumosatnight on their birthday. Happy birthday, Lani 🥳

Thanks @katie-alden for looking this over!

(Please click on the images for better quality)

Image description: An origami secret stepper box. The outer blue hinge box is closed, with the contents of it peeking out. I chose blue as it is a colour Lani likes.

Images’ description: The hinge box is opened to reveal the smaller purple, yellow, orange and green origami boxes inside it that form the ‘steps’. The colours’ inspiration was taken from fics that I have listed in the post.

I thought of this because I think Lani’s stories advance and reach the climax in fun and creative ways, filled with great little treats; a progression of events that is very enjoyable. Like their take on Hanahaki AU for HP Flower Fest, with multiple endings, was so cool. And also because they lift others and their works up, most recently for Microfic May, and Femmefest works in the HP Saffics server 💕

These are the fics from which I took the colours’ inspiration, with un-spoilery snippets from each fic.

You Lucky Cat (Pansy/Ginny) (M, 6327)

After the war, Pansy works at a cat cafe in magical Chinatown. Ginny is their best customer.

(Two completely unrelated events, of course)

Pansy’s lips pursed, her nails tapping against the notepad. Today, they were a deep purple and matched her lipstick. 

“Pansy?” Ginny tried again. Pansy’s fuzzy ears twitched. “How long have you been working here?”

Pansy narrowed her eyes, like she was considering ignoring Ginny’s question entirely. “Since right after the trials.”

Read the fic to see how the conversation between the two goes!

Impervius, Probably (Draco/Harry) (T, 5000)

Harry, Draco, and the rest of the gang make an impromptu trip to Magical IKEA, aka MIKEA™, the newest shopping sensation amongst the British Wizarding community. What starts as an innocent perusal of hand-eating dressers soon turns into a garish nightmare of roaming furniture and ever-changing floor plans when Harry and Draco get lost from the group and are left behind to fend for themselves. Will they make it out alive? (Yes). Will Harry get bamboozled by the kaleidoscope lamps? (Also yes). And will Draco ever get to try a Swedish meatball? (Maybe). (Sequel to the sequel to Impervius, Not)

“Do you work here?” Ginny asks, taking in Blaise’s obnoxiously blue uniform with glittering yellow accents.

“That I do.” Blaise gives a little bow.

*

“Harry.” Draco stops walking. “Look.” He points to an aisle with familiar twinkling lights.

“But I— That’s impossible. I’ve been following the patterned lamps towards the stairs. Yellow flowers, then green apples, grey clouds, and the purple paisley one back there.”

“You mean… the kaleidoscope lamps that change colours every thirty seconds?”

“Umm… yes?”

“You’re hopeless,” Draco groans. “And we’re lost.”

Read the fic to find out how these poor beans make their way out!

7 Days of Halloween: I Don't Feel Like Myself Anymore (Remus/Sirius) (E, 29661)

Something was wrong with Remus. What it was, Sirius couldn’t say. Between Remus’s bizarre change in appetite and his sudden habit of blushing Gryffindor red whenever he so much as glanced in Sirius’s direction, Sirius was concerned, to say the least. With Halloween quickly approaching and Remus acting stranger by the day, Sirius just hoped that his massive secret crush on his werewolf best friend would remain, well, secret.

Sirius, with Remus attached to his side like he had been all morning, sat down at their usual spot at the Gryffindor table. James and Peter were already there in a rambunctious argument about the best name for the orange, possibly poisonous slug they had found in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch and were in the process of sneaking into the castle and adopting. 

“Brahma!” shouted James.

“Taffy!” exclaimed Peter.

“Lakshmi!” yelled James.

“Whizbee!” cried Peter.

“Ganesha!” shrieked James. 

“Caramel!” screamed Peter.

“SHIVA!” bellowed James, throwing down his napkin and standing from his seat.

“Why are you only saying names of Hindu gods?” asked Remus, a chicken wing halfway to his mouth, his right thigh pressed snug against Sirius’s leg under the table.

“Because who wouldn’t want to be named after a Hindu god?” responded James, “And Peter’s only listing off the names of sweets he likes. At least my suggestions are better than that.” 

Read the fic to find out what they finally named the slug! 

What is this, fucking Jeopardy? (Draco/Harry) (E, 20483)  

Draco is struck by a wayward curse of unknown origin and keeps trying to get Curse-Breaker Potter to help him. It’s rather frustrating that he seems to be so busy… and that Draco can only speak to him in questions. Draco’s at his wit’s end trying to get oblivious Potter to realise why he’s bothering him, and Harry won’t stop making obscure Muggle references. Like the last time, when he just stared at Draco before yelling “What is this, fucking Jeopardy?!” before walking away.

Draco eyed the Muggle sweet with trepidation, but he eventually decided that if Ning was trying to poison him she was much too smart to do it on ministry property. “Are you sure this is chocolate?” he said, opening the package and finding a set of 2 green bars inside.

“That one’s matcha flavoured. I got it when I went on holiday in Japan. They have much better flavours over there.” [...] Deciding that green tea wouldn’t be so bad, Draco took a tentative bite. The moan that left his mouth was completely involuntary and Draco would have hidden under Ning’s desk in embarrassment if anyone else were around to hear it.

*

“Why is this one a different green?” 

“It’s a different flavour.” She had an odd little smile on her face. [...] He took another bite, this one not tentative at all, nearly shoving the whole bar in his mouth at once. Which was a dreadful idea because he ended up hacking his lungs out in the next second. [...] “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” he spluttered, coming back up for air.

Read the fic to see what flavour Draco ate!

[ae32156]

Incorrect Quotes Tag

Thanks for tagging me @ashen-crest

Link to the site: https://incorrect-quotes-generator.neocities.org/

I did a lot, but too many of them were in-character

Tagging: @jezifster @disgruntled-twig @emelkae

-----------------

Summer: We need to distract these guys John: Leave it to me John: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Pat, Peter, and James: *Immediately begin arguing* Rick, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

-------------------

Summer: Rules are made to be broken. John: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken. Pat: Uh, piñatas. Peter: Glow sticks. James: Karate boards. Rick: Spaghetti when you have a small pot. Summer: Rules. John:

-----------------

Summer: John... How do I begin to explain John? Pat: John is flawless. Peter: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000. James: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan. Rick: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

----------------

Summer: *Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat* John: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents Summer: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you Pat: Actually I did the math, John would have $225, not $0.15. John: Fam I’m right here.... Peter: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :) Summer: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please? Peter: Sorry I only have a dollar Summer: :( Pat: Hey I just realized my friend is right, John would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent Peter: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice Pat: You can buy anything you want with $22,500 James: Yeah and they want soda and apply juice Pat: Apply juice to what Rick: Directly to the forehead John: Great chat everyone

--------------------

Summer: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? John: Several traffic violations. Peter: Three counts of resisting arrest. Rick: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. James: Also, that’s not our car.

------------------

Summer: Bye John! Bye Peter! Bye Rick! Bye James! Bye John! Peter: You said ‘bye John’ twice. Summer: I like John.

----------------

Summer: Favorite horror movie? John: It Peter: Saw Rick: Annabelle James: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

--------------

Summer: What did you guys get in your yearbook? John: 'Prettiest Smile' Peter: 'Nicest Personality' Rick: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' James: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

----------------

Summer: I’m an idiot. John: Peter: Rick: James: Summer: John: If you’re waiting for us to disagree, this is going to be a long day.

----------------------

Summer: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. John: ... Your what? Summer: My friends. Peter: Are they saying “friends”? Rick: I think they're being sarcastic. James: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Summer! All of your friends are in this room. Summer: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

---------------------

Summer: What’s something you guys are better than John at? Peter: Mario Kart. Rick: Yeah, video games. James: Emotional vulnerability.

-------------------

Summer: Why are your tongues purple? James: We had slushies. I had a blue one. Rick: I had a red one. Summer: oh Summer: Summer: OH John: John: You drank each other's slushies?

-------------

Summer: *Gently taps table* John: *Taps back* James: What are they doing? Rick: Morse code. Summer: *Aggressively taps table* John: *Slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

-----------------

Summer, John, and James are sitting on a bench Rick: Why do you guys look so sad? Summer: Sit down with us so we can tell you. *Rick sits down* John: The bench is freshly painted.

------------------

James: Why are Summer and John sitting with their backs to each other? Rick: They had a fight. James: Then why are they holding hands? Rick: They get sad when they fight.

------------------

Summer: Isn’t it weird that we pay money to see other people? John: Plane tickets? James: Concert tickets? Rick: Prostitution? Summer, holding their broken frames: Glasses.

--------------------

Summer: I think Rick was right. John: I'm surprised they haven't marched in here to say 'I told you so.' James: They wouldn't do that. Rick: You're right, James. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that. Rick: *turns around, the shirt they're wearing says 'Rick Told You So' on the back*

-----------------

Summer: John, I'm sad. John: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay. James: Rick, I'm sad. Rick, nodding: mood.

-----------------

[routeskins]

Wooden Steam Deck Skin, Custom Game Console Vinyl Wrap, Valve Steam Deck Oled Skin, Vinyl Sticker, Gift for Gamer

This Wooden Steam Deck Skin is the ultimate fusion of style and protection for your Valve Steam Deck OLED! Our custom game console vinyl wrap is designed to perfectly complement the sleek design of the Steam Deck while offering unparalleled durability and personalization.

Each skin is meticulously crafted from high-quality vinyl material, ensuring long-lasting protection against scratches, scuffs, and wear-and-tear. 

This Wooden Steam Deck Skin adds a touch of sophistication to your gaming setup. Whether you prefer the rich warmth of mahogany, the rustic charm of oak, or the contemporary flair of bamboo, our selection of wood-inspired designs allows you to customize your Steam Deck to reflect your unique style.

Give the gift of personalized gaming with our Wooden Steam Deck Skin – the perfect present for the gamer in your life. Whether it's a birthday, holiday, or special occasion, our vinyl sticker is sure to delight and impress even the most discerning gaming enthusiasts.

⭐⭐⭐ ///// Item Description \\\\\ ⭐⭐⭐

-We are using high-quality vinyl

-High opaque, white gloss monomeric PVC film with bubble-free liner

-Air-release technology, no more air bubbles!

-Clear permanent acrylic-based adhesive that is initially easily repositionable

-No edge peeling, lifting, or curling

💬💬💬Please see HOW-TO-APPLY in FAQ or You can always reach out to us :))

🍏🍏🍏///// Which version is best for you? \\\\\\ 🍏🍏🍏

- Since new devices are constantly being introduced, it can be very easy to choose the wrong option during checkout.

-In order to locate your Model Number on your iPad, you will need to look at the lower backside of the device

-The word will begin with the letter "A.".For instance 'A1502 ' is the MacBook Pro 13-inch Model.

-Or you can always navigate in your Macbook > Open Settings, tap General, then tap About. Look for the model number in the top section. If the number you see has a slash "/", that's the part number

✉️ Are you still unsure of which version you possess? Send us a message. ✉️

📦📦📦 ///// Shipping and handling \\\\\ 📦📦📦

-Thank you for inquiring about our products. We pride ourselves on providing fast and efficient service and will do our best to fulfil your order within 2-3 business days. Thank you for your time.

💳💳💳 ///// Return Policy \\\\\ 💳💳💳

-If there are any problems with your order, please let us know as soon as possible. We will work to rectify the situation as soon as possible.

-We accept returns and exchanges within 7 days of receiving your order for any reason.

🎮🎮🎮 ///// Custom Design - Inquiry \\\\\ 🎮🎮🎮

-Please send us a message if you would like to personalize your device.

-Image must be min 720p - higher quality brings better result

-Custom design takes more than usual shipping time. (5 business days)

-After we receive the photo, we will send you an example and we will ask for your final decision.

-If you still have questions you can reach out any time.

[pasmy]

UX Builder

DESCRIPTION

SHIPPING & MANUFACTURING INFO

Justin Herbert NFL Football Unisex T Shirt

As someone who usually doesn’t get gifts and has a hard time getting and Justin Herbert NFL Football Unisex T Shirt receiving them and finding what I want, it helps when there’s is secret santa stuff. So I helped out by participating and got picked to give a gift to this nice girl I knew. On the day of gift giving, as it was a surprise, I tapped her on the shoulder as she turned around, putting the gift in her hand in a smooth motion. It was one of the things on her wish list. Stunned in a good way, she said “thank you!” After saying my name. A minute later, a person I didn’t know as well, gave me a gift. I’ve never really celebrated it outside my family, and didn’t think I would get one. It was neat, and a very nice surprise, as we didn’t associate much with each other. I thanked her, and then again more than twenty minutes later as class ended. But the kicker: it was lunch time, and I was going to the bathroom, as per usual. Then this other person I know, a lot better, and am better pals with but don’t always get to hang out, but find much in common, called me over. I waited patiently to see what it was all about. We never really hung out at lunch, and last time she had asked me a question, so I had answered her. Our relationship wasn’t bad.

https://olafprint.com/product/merry-christmas-joe-biden-t-shirt/UX Builder

https://blakeshirt.com/product/lizzy-borden-visual-lies-shirt/UX Builder

https://telotee.com/product/motivating-shirt/UX Build

UX Build

Lakers T Shirt, Lebron James Young King Los Angeles Lakers Signature shirt, Lebron Jame Shirt

 

UX Builder

er

er

 

UX Builder

 

 

UX Builder

 

UX Builder

 

buy it now:        .

Homepage: limotees    jeeppremium  telotee

Gearbloom is your one-stop online shop for printed t-shirts, hoodies, phone cases, stickers, posters, mugs, and more…High quality original T-shirts. Digital printing in the USA.

Worldwide shipping. No Minimums. 1000s of Unique Designs. Worldwide shipping. Fast Delivery. 100% Quality Guarantee. to cover all your needs.

By contacting directly with suppliers, we are dedicated to provide you with the latest fashion with fair price.We redefine trends, design excellence and bring exceptional quality to satisfy the needs of every aspiring fashionista.

WHAT IS OUR MISSION?

Gearbloom is established with a clear vision: to provide the very latest products with compelling designs, exceptional value and superb customer service for everyone.

We offer a select choice of millions of Unique Designs for T-shirts, Hoodies, Mugs, Posters and more to cover all your needs.

WHY SHOP WITH US?

Why do customers come to

Well we think there are a few reasons:

BEST PRICING

Fashion field involves the best minds to carefully craft the design. The t-shirt industry is a very competitive field and involves many risks. The cost per t-shirt varies proportionally to the total quantity of t-shirts. We are manufacturing exceptional-quality t-shirts at a very competitive price.

PRINT QUALITY DIFFERENCE

We use only the best DTG printers available to produce the finest-quality images possible that won’t wash out of the shirts.

DELIVERY IS VERY FAST

Estimated shipping times:

United States : 1-5 business days

Canada : 3-7 business days

International : from 1-2 weeks depending on proximity to Detroit, MI.

CUSTOM AND PERSONALIZED ORDERS

Custom orders are always welcome. We can customize all of our designs to your needs! Please feel free to contact us if you have any questions.

PAYMENT DO WE ACCEPT?

We currently accept the following forms of payment:

Credit Or Debit Cards: We accept Visa, Mastercard, American Express, Discover, Diners Club, JCB, Union Pay and Apple Pay from customers worldwide.

PayPal: PayPal allows members to have a personal account linked to any bank account or credit card for easy payment at checkout.

tag:Santa Christmas humor, humor, holidays, retro, christmas, funny, santa claus, santa, xmas, Silly, vest, ugly sweater, chrismas, ugly sweater party, sweater vest, holiday, christmas, Humor, humorous, sweater, xmas, christmas humor, funny Christmas, wisconsin, packers, ugly sweater, holiday, christmas, beer, continents, santa, xmas, love, keep christmas with you, sweeter, i heart santa, christian, chrismas, christmas, heart, santa claus, santa, religion, filthy, animal, ugly, chrismas, sweater, christmas, griswold, ugly christmas, ugly xmas, xmas 

[joomma]

Let’s Face It I Was Crazy Before The Cats Ugly Christmas Sweater

Let’s Face It I Was Crazy Before The Cats Ugly Christmas Sweater

As someone who usually doesn’t get gifts and has a hard time getting and Let’s Face It I Was Crazy Before The Cats Ugly Christmas Sweater receiving them and finding what I want, it helps when there’s is secret santa stuff. So I helped out by participating and got picked to give a gift to this nice girl I knew. On the day of gift giving, as it was a surprise, I tapped her on the shoulder as she turned around, putting the gift in her hand in a smooth motion. It was one of the things on her wish list. Stunned in a good way, she said “thank you!” After saying my name. A minute later, a person I didn’t know as well, gave me a gift. I’ve never really celebrated it outside my family, and didn’t think I would get one. It was neat, and a very nice surprise, as we didn’t associate much with each other. I thanked her, and then again more than twenty minutes later as class ended. But the kicker: it was lunch time, and I was going to the bathroom, as per usual. Then this other person I know, a lot better, and am better pals with but don’t always get to hang out, but find much in common, called me over. I waited patiently to see what it was all about. We never really hung out at lunch, and last time she had asked me a question, so I had answered her. Our relationship wasn’t bad.

buy it now:Let’s Face It I Was Crazy Before The Cats Ugly Christmas Sweater

Dog Santa Ugly Christmas Sweater Unisex

Rottweiler Dog Family Ugly Christmas Sweater

Cow Xmas With Santa Hat Cute Gift Ugly Christmas Sweater

Green Christmas Pattern Gift Sweater

Yoda And Grinch Christmas Ugly Sweater Grinch Christmas Sweater

Sloth Tropical Island Palm Tree For Button Down Aloha Hawaii Shirt

Homepage: limotees    jeeppremium  telotee

Gearbloom is your one-stop online shop for printed t-shirts, hoodies, phone cases, stickers, posters, mugs, and more…High quality original T-shirts. Digital printing in the USA.

Worldwide shipping. No Minimums. 1000s of Unique Designs. Worldwide shipping. Fast Delivery. 100% Quality Guarantee. to cover all your needs.

By contacting directly with suppliers, we are dedicated to provide you with the latest fashion with fair price.We redefine trends, design excellence and bring exceptional quality to satisfy the needs of every aspiring fashionista.

WHAT IS OUR MISSION?

Gearbloom is established with a clear vision: to provide the very latest products with compelling designs, exceptional value and superb customer service for everyone.

We offer a select choice of millions of Unique Designs for T-shirts, Hoodies, Mugs, Posters and more to cover all your needs.

WHY SHOP WITH US?

Why do customers come to

Well we think there are a few reasons:

BEST PRICING

Fashion field involves the best minds to carefully craft the design. The t-shirt industry is a very competitive field and involves many risks. The cost per t-shirt varies proportionally to the total quantity of t-shirts. We are manufacturing exceptional-quality t-shirts at a very competitive price.

PRINT QUALITY DIFFERENCE

We use only the best DTG printers available to produce the finest-quality images possible that won’t wash out of the shirts.

DELIVERY IS VERY FAST

Estimated shipping times:

United States : 1-5 business days

Canada : 3-7 business days

International : from 1-2 weeks depending on proximity to Detroit, MI.

CUSTOM AND PERSONALIZED ORDERS

Custom orders are always welcome. We can customize all of our designs to your needs! Please feel free to contact us if you have any questions.

PAYMENT DO WE ACCEPT?

We currently accept the following forms of payment:

Credit Or Debit Cards: We accept Visa, Mastercard, American Express, Discover, Diners Club, JCB, Union Pay and Apple Pay from customers worldwide.

PayPal: PayPal allows members to have a personal account linked to any bank account or credit card for easy payment at checkout.

[bfpnola]

Tap for better quality. Reintroducing the official Better Future Program Tumblr blog!

Social Media: Instagram | Twitter | Facebook

Common Tags: #resources (PDFs, videos, etc. found through Tumblr), #reaux speaks (personal thoughts, surveys, & announcements), #reaux answers (Q&A), and #mutual aid

*Trigger Warnings are written as #tw [insert here]

Important Links: Main Site & FAQ | 3000+ Free Resources | Contact Us | Staff Application | Discord Server | Remind | DONATE

Image Description Below

All images have a rainbow, pastel gradient as a background. Each has a black iPhone in the center with notifications as the main text.

The first image looks like an iPhone pastel gradient lockscreen with the time set at 3:33 and the date as Friday, March 11. One large notification is at the center of the iPhone, reading "Reintroducing" at the top left corner, "2m ago" at the top right corner, and "Good afternoon! Welcome to the official Better Future Program Tumblr blog. We're an entirely youth-run organization! Wanna learn more?" in the middle. The options to tap are "Sure!" and "Of course!"

All following images are an iPhone Notification Center with a pastel gradient lockscreen behind it. The notifications read as follows:

"Our Location: Founded by Reagan Peters-Roussell (she/they), BFP is headquartered in Bulbancha on Chahta Yakni and Chitimacha land, often referred to as New Orleans, Louisiana. Our volunteers can be found throughout Canada, the U.K., Sweden, Indonesia, India, and many other places!"

"Our Mission: Our mission is to build a better and brighter global future for marginalized youth through education, awareness, and unity."

"Our Inspiration: We thank ACLU, Critical Resistance, Black Lives Matter, and Linda Sarsour for their work!"

"Our Core Values: BFP promotes accessibility, unity, honesty, and gratitude on all of our platforms. This is a strictly pro-BIPOC, pro-queer, pro-trans, pro-disability organization. If there is ever a way we can provide further support to your community, let us know!"

"Our Beliefs: BFP believes in supporting Black Lives Matter, Stop Asian Hate, Free Palestine, Land Back, anti-capitalism, intersectional environmentalism, police and prison abolition, and all other liberatory movements for the proletariat!" There is a brown Black Power fist next to this notification.

"Our Work: Through our blogs on Instagram and Tumblr, we post breakdowns of activist-related content, ranging from current news to political and economic theories to definitions and so much more to come!"

"Our Liberation Library: We also offer over 3,000 free social justice, mental health, and academic resources for anyone to access! This includes novels, movies, revolutionary interviews, videos, etc."

"Our Workshops & Contests: As long as COVID-19 infection rates continue to decline, BFP plans to host in-person workshops and contests again!"

"Our Mutual Aid Network: Check our Instagram story & Tumblr blog @bfpnola for folks in need of donations!"

"Our Team: BFP is made up of an Administrative Staff, an Advocacy Committee, a Resources Committee, and General Volunteers, all marginalized youth across the globe."

"How to Support Us: Please share this reintroduction post with your friends and fellow activists! Be sure to check @bfpnola on IG & Tumblr, as well as BetterFutureProgram.org for updates too!"

The final image is on the same rainbow, pastel gradient background. There is a laptop in the center, showcasing the official Better Future Program website. In white text above and below the laptop, the image reads, "BetterFutureProgram.org for more!" with a cursor clicking on the text and "Turn notifications on @bfpnola!" with a little bell emoji to the left.

[moomoorare]

Opening cheap commissions because I really need money!

References and prices ↓ :D

(tap for better quality, tumblr tends to compress quality when images are stacked)

sketchline type! 5-7 € (depending if you ask for half or full body)

sketchy and colored: 10 € (for half and full body)

clean and rendered: 22 € (bust only)

you can ask for more characters but each addition adds half the price of the initial price ( ex. sketchy + colors is 10 and with another character i'd add 5)

If you're curious I will draw slight nsfw (non-sexual nudity, and boobs), slight gore, but won't draw hateful imagery or complicated backgrounds. You can choose any color you want as background, or PNG :).

my p4ypal is: moomoorare and my email is moomoorare@gmail.com

If you just want to donate a few bucks here's my ko-fi :>

And some more art I've made!! :]

If you can't commission,

please reblog! That'd help me out a lot <3

[gingersnappe-9]

In a Crowd of Thousands: Across Time and Space (3)

Din Djarin/Mando X Fem!OC ; Star Wars/The Mandalorian Universe

Series List || PREVIOUS || NEXT

3.8 K words

Note: chapter image created by yours truly!

The halls of the Imperial cruiser were quiet. The sound of electricity bounced off the glossy surfaces. Only one person remained to occupy this particular area of the ship. Anyone with half a brain knew not to go near while he was performing his tests. Experiments. Sorcery some called it.

Moff Gideon knew better.

Gideon made sure to be completely alone during his sessions. His private quarters were tucked away in a seclusive area of the ship. Double sealing doors as an added precaution. He walked towards a locked box, opened it with the retinal scanner and peered down at the weapon held safely in its keep. The dark saber it was called. Once the weapon of a Jedi, the famed Mandalore, then some Mandalorian girl named Bo Katan -- she claimed to be the rightful ruler of her creed’s desolate planet. She was sorely mistaken -- and now Gideon himself. It held more power than any of the feeble minded fools on the cruiser could possibly fathom.

Gideon was no fool. He had studied its history, read any and all texts he could get his hands on in his pursuit to unravel its secrets. The old Jedi teachings had turned into nothing more than myth, and it was better that way. The Jedi stood in the way of progress. Subjugation, absolute rule, that was how the galaxy was meant to be. It was simpler. Less messy, so long as everyone stayed in line. And with the Jedi gone, the Rebellion grasping at straws, it was even easier to expand the banner of the great and glorious Empire. Now was the time to reap the rewards of his tireless efforts.

He held it up to the light for observation. The hilt seemed to thrum with life even before he ignited the blade. Matte black metal. Stern lines. Sharp corners. Hard and cold like a dark stone the ocean beats against. At the blade's ignition, Gideon felt a surge of energy run through his fingertips then throughout the expanse of his entire body. The power was unlike anything Gideon had ever experienced before. It was energy. It was power. Pure, raw, uninhibited power.

He gingerly waved it about. A deep sound reverberated through the air as the saber passed each air molecule. The light emanating off the blade seemed to flicker and gleam like that of a distant star in the black ink of space.

With a sudden outburst of violence, Gideon slashed an entire control panel in half with a single swing. The saber cut through with ease, searing and melting anything and everything it came in contact with. He was immensely pleased. What he’d heard and read about this weapon was true. But the real test had yet to begin. In his efforts to wield the dark saber effectively, he also did his due research on the more mystical qualities.

The Jedi did not share the more intimate secrets of their teachings to those outside their circles. That knowledge was difficult to come by. But Gideon had his ways. He managed to acquire an extremely old, and rare text that detailed the history and origins of the blade. Its innate connection with something known as the force -- the undercurrent of every living and non-living thing in the galaxy. An interconnecting thread to everything, and everyone.

From what Gideon understood, the blade allowed its wielder to tap into this current and perform feats that could defy the laws of the natural world. It was a power that made the user valuable, and dangerous -- hence the slaughter of the Jedi after Order 66, and subsequent hunt for any and all who showed any connection to the force at all -- and Gideon wanted more than anything to tap into this current.

Gideon had one more goal besides acquiring a working knowledge of wielding the force. He wanted to find a child. The child. The one that had evaded him all this time. He was the key to everything.

He held the saber in both hands, closed his eyes, and reached out. Into what, he did not know. But Gideon allowed the dark weapon in his hands to pull his subconscious forward.

It started out as something small. Like a tiny flame that began to flicker down a wick until it became a raging and thunderous wildfire. He could feel more than he ever knew to be possible. The energy coursing through the ship’s electrical circuits; the blood pumping through the veins of every living soul on board; the synapses firing off in his own brain. It was astounding. He reached further. The heat emanating off of a nearby sun. The cold clutches of the vacuum. The craggy surfaces of asteroids clustered together in enormous belts. Life. Death. Order and chaos. Time and space itself.

Gideon let his mind explore this new frontier until he felt a different sensation. Another being inhabiting the same subconscious space. He pressed forward.

In his attempts, Gideon felt resistance. Either this being was aware of his presence and intentionally kept him at bay, or they had natural barriers protecting their own subconscious. He had his suspicions as to who it could be, but without the ability to probe further, his best guess would have to do.

Gideon’s frustrations began to grow at his lack of progress towards this presence, when closeby, he sensed another. Equally as strong, but completely unguarded.

Gideon’s eyes darted back and forth beneath his eyelids as he leaned into this new presence. The closer his subconscious got, the more a figure appeared in his mind. Young. A strong mind and body. Deep sadness and despair buried far below the surface. Gideon could tell even in his limited capacity that this individual was not entirely aware of their own grief. Something about this plane of consciousness told him so. He probed closer. He was beginning to develop a mental image of their physical state. A steady heartbeat, dexterous fingers toiled with something small and pliable. She was incredibly focused. Her mind was steady and clear as she worked. The attention to detail was admirable. The wires were expertly woven together and soldered neatly. A man -- whose presence was nothing more than a fog -- commended her for her work.

A Mandalorian. Two Mandalorians and…. No, it couldn’t be… It couldn’t be that easy… Oh. But it is.

Her hands paused. The clearest image of the girl he’d seen yet came into focus. Brown hair. Dark eyes. Hauntingly familiar eyes. She looked right at him.

Gideon was suddenly and viciously sent careening back into his own body. The blade retracted into the hilt as it clattered to the floor. His body had broken out into a cold sweat. It felt as though the air had been stolen from his lungs as Gideon hunched over the floor bracing himself on his hands and knees.

The silence continued with only the soft thrum of the ship's electrical systems. Then laughter. Twisted and sickening laughter clattered off the walls. Gideon couldn’t help but laugh. Just from this one attempt, he was closer than ever to not only unlocking the ancient secrets the Jedi had hoarded all these centuries, but to something else just as interesting and mysterious.

His voice sounded off the walls with no one else but himself to hear. “I found you.”

Mando had mentioned something about the wiring for the engine couplers wasn’t that great. Ava gladly volunteered to take a look and do some cleaning up in the electrical panels. She was happy to have something familiar to do.

They’d been underway for two days now and Ava was glad to have something to occupy her hands with. It was a strange feeling, sitting idly by. She was so used to getting up and filling her time with gears and cogs that needed oiling, welding manifolds back together, or rewiring entire motherboards. But on the Crest, there was only so much Ava could accomplish. There was only so much space to move around as well.

She would spend the better part of her time aboard the vessel studying the paneling, the score marks, dents, and or scratches beaten into the hull. The few bits of evidence to suggest anyone even lived aboard the flying tin can. Ava had taken a turn about the cargo hold so many times she could probably recreate it without having to open her eyes. She could walk across the floor blindfolded and navigate the entire space through touch and counting alone. She knew the exact number of steps it took to walk from one end to the other. Knew the dimensions of the small hull as well as she knew the back of her own hands. It was as if she could sense the entire space around her, a skill she developed early on and found rather useful.

Once Mando saw the quality of her work on the major problems that plagued his ship before Tatooine, he seemed to more readily accept her help even in-flight. Hence, why she was fixing up the extremely shotty work on the engine couplers. The soldering looked as though it was done by a drunkard. The wires were frayed in places the wax coating had been eaten away. There was even a stray... fossil? Something Ava couldn’t identify but was white like bone that smelled vaguely, salty? It was a mess. The more of the Crest’s internal mechanisms she was exposed to, the more she wondered how it even managed liftoff, let alone sustained hyper-flight. Nonetheless, Ava was more than confident she could fix just about anything aboard the vintage hunk of junk.

Her fingers were deft at rearranging the fixtures to their proper position. It was second nature for her to maneuver a welding torch in tight, confined spaces. She had the burn scars to prove it. Ava fell back into a quiet rhythm of stripping the wax coat off the end of some wire, finding its rightful place, then rewiring.The instruments seemed to float into her hand the exact moment she needed them. It felt good to use her hands again. It was familiar. Comforting. What was a new sensation was having a tiny pair of eyes staring up at her.

Every so often, Ava would look down at a small crate that held spare tools and see the child gazing up at her. She couldn’t help but smile. She would talk to him about her work, going over even the most obscure and minute details. Ava explained the rationale behind attaching one wire to one port, but not the other; why certain wires should never cross, or the reason she used one weld pattern over another.

The child didn’t respond using any Basic words, a coo or gurgle every now and again, but for some reason, Ava knew he could understand her. The child was rather smart. Mischievous. She’d seen him sneak more than his fair share of snacks right from under Mando’s nose. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something centering about his presence, it was rather comical given how small he was. It was as though everything was clearer, easier, her timing and flow were the most efficient they’d ever been; and all thanks to nothing more than the little one’s company.

After a brief comment on her welding and rewiring, Boba made his way up to the cockpit and Ava was left below with the child. She continued to tinker with the wiring just beyond the open wall panel when something new came over her. It felt as though a window had been opened and a fresh breeze blew around her.

Everything seemed to thrum with life. It was as if she could feel the electrical surges coursing through the ship’s systems. Her heartbeat sounded like drums in her own ears. Ava was suddenly very aware of the tiny child sitting next to her with his wide eyes and curious expression.

She looked at him for a moment, pausing her work. A shiver ran down her spine. The sensation quickly turned cold. Something extremely new for her. All her life, Ava had been wrapped by the relentless heat of Tatooine. She never could have imagined how cold space was. Her hands always felt a bit stiff now before she got into the rhythm of work. But this was something different entirely.

This was a malicious feeling. It crept in like sand mites that furrowed and bore their way into the skin. It lingered in her lungs and her head began to hurt. She worried for a moment that she might’ve caught something, maybe a bug or illness from Mando or Boba. She’d never been in close quarters like this with anyone. Not even Peli’s small hut was this stuffy and confined. Ava was sure she had checked the air filtration systems before they took off. Whatever this was just didn’t sit well with her, and it apparently didn’t sit well with the baby either.

Ava looked down at the little green child when she heard him whine. It sounded more like concern than anything else. Even his little ears were droopy and his gaze fixated on Ava.

“Do you feel it too?” Her voice was quiet as she spoke to him. Trying to make sense of the strangeness of it all.

Suddenly, Ava felt a pair of eyes on her. Not the baby’s. The Mandalorians were in the cockpit. There was no other soul aboard the ship and yet, Ava knew something, or rather, someone was watching her.

It felt as if her veins were filled with something frigid. Her body became impossible still. Her gut was telling her – screaming at her – that something was very, very wrong.

Turn around.

Turn around?

Now!

No sooner than she did, there stood a man behind her. A stern face and severe eyes. He wore all black and held a glowing sword in both hands. The moment their eyes met, it felt as though Ava was hit by a wall. Whatever had been opened slammed shut, knocking all of the air from her lungs.

Ava fell to the ground and the tools in her hands clattered against the metal floor. She struggled to pull air into her chest as her heart hammered in her ears.

Boba’s voice rang out from the upper part of the ship, “Everything alright down there, Sweetheart?” It startled Ava.

“Y-yeah. I just… got distracted.”

The baby cooed at her, as if he was trying to see if she was okay.

“I’m alright, Little Guy. Don’t worry about me.” Her voice shook terribly as she tried to fein an assuring tone. He looked at Ava in such a way she could tell he didn’t believe her.

The invasive feeling lingered in her skin. Like someone was somehow inside the very space she occupied. It was extremely unnerving. Whether out of curiosity or fear the man would still be there, Ava slowly glanced over her shoulder. There was nothing behind her but the door of the hull’s main ramp. There had never been anyone else on the ship by the four of them.

Ava tried to settle herself. She reached for the child, whose arms were outstretched for her, and brought him to her chest. Holding the little one was one of the few things that brought her comfort on this flying tin can. But she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of those eyes watching her. Peering into her.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, Ava could’ve sworn she heard a foreign voice whispering I found you.

The room was full of laughter. Rays of color danced across the room as the setting sun shone through the delicate stained glass windows. Gorgeous, heavy cloth tapestries hung from the impossibly high ceilings. Everyone wore flowing gowns and dashing capes that spun and twirled over the polished floor.

Ava was wearing a gorgeous and well-suited gown of a deep teal. It matched the washes of blue that were everywhere. Atop her head she wore a beautiful golden tiara with thin prongs that extended out like rays of sunshine. She was being twirled around by a graceful partner. He led her through the dance as the music echoed through the grand hall.

Trumpets sounded and everyone ceased dancing and looked to the grand staircase of the hall.

At the very top stood a striking couple. A distinguished looking gentleman who wore a floor-length, velvet blue cape that draped over his shoulder; to his right, a gorgeous woman with her hair twisted up in a series of cloth entwined braids with a warm disposition. They both looked down at her with warm smiles. There seemed to be a sort of glow around the pair. They were radiant in every sense of the word.

Joy filled Ava’s chest as she smiled back. She watched the man -- who was of some significance since everyone he passed bowed -- walk down the staircase. Once he had descended, he made his way over to meet Ava in the middle of the ballroom.

Soft music began to play once more. He took her hands in his and began to swing her into a waltz. The two practically floated across the floor and for the first time Ava felt like she was in the right place at the right time. The room watched with soft gazes and tender affection. As the song dwindled to a stop, the two paused and held each other's hands.

The more Ava looked at him, the more she felt like she knew him from somewhere. Perhaps a far off dream? When he leaned in and gently placed a kiss on her forehead, Ava closed her eyes.

Somewhere far away, Ava could hear someone calling out a name.

“A-”

She opened her eyes to the man standing in front of her mouthing something she couldn’t hear.

“What?” Ava asked.

His face was kind and sympathetic. Then out of nowhere, she heard…

~~~

“Wake up.” The voice was gruff and to the point.

Ava jolted up in a fright. Someone was standing in the doorway of the sleeping quarters. On instinct, she kicked as hard as she could, hitting whoever it was with directly in the hip. They groaned in pain and toppled over. Ava realized where she was.

She was sleeping in the little cot tucked into the wall of the Razor Crest. The child was sitting next to her chest staring at her with those big eyes. She looked at the child for a moment. The music still echoed in her mind, her hands seemed warm. The place where the man had kissed Ava’s forehead still felt the soft press of his lips. The dream still felt so real that something in the back of her mind couldn’t help but wonder if the baby had something to do with it. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her, the tender touch of his tiny hand on top of hers in an endearing manner. Or maybe it was just her grasping at any sort of explanation for the hyperrealism of her subconscious mind.

Hearing whomever she kicked grunt a bit in pain, Ava scooted to the end of the crawlspace. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just-” She stopped when a silver beskar helmet came up to meet her eye. “Oh, it’s just you. I guess it’s okay.”

Mando didn’t sound too pleased by Ava’s answer. “Get up, you’ve been asleep for way too long.” He sounded like he was clenching his jaw as he spoke and walked away to inspect something at the other end of the ship. From behind the corner, Ava could hear a chuckle. When she popped her head out, it was Boba poorly trying to conceal his enjoyment.

“I told him to be nicer. Guess he learned his lesson hasn’t he, Princess?” He offered Ava his hand and helped her shimmy out of the crawlspace.

“Have I really been out that long?”

Boba just gave her a quick smirk then explained, “It can happen sometimes if you’re not used to space travel. The artificial gravity, the speed, and pressure differentials can cause people to get drowsy. It usually wears off after a small while.”

Unsure of whether that made her feel better, Ava decided to see it as a positive. Behind her, the baby made a soft gurgling noise the way children do. She turned back and scooped the little creature into her arms. The two smiled at one another, Ava always felt calmer, centered even, when she was near or holding the child. Maybe that’s why she slept as well as she did, he had been laying with her. But he wasn’t there when she had gone to sleep. How did the little critter manage to climb up the foot and a half difference between the floor and the door opening? A better question: how did he hit the button to open the door?

So lost in thought, Ava almost didn’t hear Boba say, “Are you ready to begin?”

Puzzled, she answered him back with, “Ready for what?”

The older Mandalorian chuckled, “To become Princess Aurelia of course.”

Oh right. Princess lessons. On the night they propositioned Ava, they mentioned having to teach her the proper etiquette and mannerisms expected of a wouldbe Grand Duchess. If she was being honest with herself, Ava wasn’t looking forward to it. She didn’t exactly have the most ladylike upbringing and was starting to doubt how well she would fare. Ava grew up amongst the galaxy’s castaways and ruffians, Peli wasn’t exactly Miss Prim and Proper, so naturally neither was Ava. She didn’t know the first thing about princess-ing. Stars, Ava never ate a meal that wasn’t re-hydrated or stale in her life. Now she was supposed to learn an entire lifetime of skills in a matter of days, a couple weeks if she was lucky.

Seeing the flashes of doubt across her face, Boba placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Relax, my dear. You’re in good hands. We won’t lead you astray.”

Mando huffed.

Boba was none too pleased at the gesture from his partner. “At least, I can assure you I will put forward my best efforts. I can only ask that you reciprocate.”

Taking one more look at the baby in her arms she felt a flash of courage. Ava placed him on the edge of the cot. When she turned back, both Mandalorians were looking at her. If I could learn to hotwire a speeder bike before I hit puberty, this should be a sinche, right?

Taking in a deep breath, Ava spoke clearly with confidence, and just a hint of her usual sass when she said, “Gentlemen, start your teaching.”

Series List || PREVIOUS || NEXT

General Taglist:@phandoz @athalien @rosiefridayrogersunday@tanzthompson @littlemisspascal @radiowallet @andiesturgss

COT Taglist: @luxmundee @phandoz @deepknightclod @niall7inches @the-socially-awkward-dragon @ahtanosoka@paledonutpastakid @myguiltypleasures21 @lekkus@littlemissoblivious @grogusyogurt @lokis-army-77 @kitttypalace @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @hell-al

Din Djarin (all) Taglist: @elinedjarin @wander-lustbabe @phandoz@mcueveryday @deepknightclod @paledonutpastakid@myguiltypleasures21 @kitttypalace @hell-al

[ppersonna]

higher - kth | m

all that matters to me girl, win or lose, is an x-rated complete swirl of me and you. so if you want to see the show, just come with me baby, i will show you how i roll - insurance?, the higher

↳ summary- a chance meeting with a handsome stranger in the airport leads to a very exciting flight.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 3.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre-  smut, pwp, the plot is basically one whole sentence

↳ warnings-  public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, dirty talk, cum play, unprotected sex (fiction isnt rl life, wrap it up pals), sex in an airport and a plane whoops, sex with stranger

↳ a/n- hi folks! this fic has been in my trash basically because i wasnt sure i liked it too much! but i was convinced by a few friends to post it. i surely hope you enjoy this little to no plot LMFAO.  pls feel free to message, comment, dm me, carrier pigeon, etc etc. i LOVE YOU.

“Wow, you’re cute,” a voice calls to you through the crowded airport. 

You lower your book down to gaze at where the voice came from, an eyebrow arched in confusion. An airport was an odd place to be hit on. 

The voice came from the man across from you, sitting in the black plastic leather seat of the waiting area for your gate. He waves his hand a little as if to take ownership for the compliment. 

“Oh, uhhh,” you bite your lip. “Thank you?”

He smiles. It’s beautiful.  You’re struck by the gleaming white teeth and boxy smile.

 “Are you heading to Los Angeles too?” He leans forward, wanting to get closer to you. 

You lay your book down on your lap and nod. “Yeah, I am. Visiting.” 

The boy wouldn’t stop grinning. He was ethereal in beauty. Cover of a magazine star quality.  Shaggy brown hair, button nose and a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts. His voice was a sinful pitch of sexy baritone and his body appeared lithe and toned.  Of all the men to hit on you in a bustling airport, you were glad it was this one. 

“Me too! Meeting my friends there for a long bachelor party week of partying.” 

“Oh, you’re getting married?” You ask. That would make this exchange less invigorating. 

“No! No,” he quickly replies. “My childhood best friend Seokjin is. He wants to go around LA and eat at as many restaurants as he can and then drink until he passes out. His words.”

You stifle a laugh, pleased with the information that the young suitor across from you is at the very least, not engaged. “Sounds like a wild time.” 

He nods in agreement, flashing a cute grin. Your stomach flips. He’s so attractive. You can’t help but eye him down, let your gaze soak in his beauty. He notices and smirks. 

“What seat are you?” He asks.

“Ah,” you squint at the ticket in your lap. “14A. Window seat.” 

He laughs out loud. “No fucking way.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Why?”

“I’m 14B.”

You join in his laughter.  “Seems like we’re in for an exciting flight.”

He winks at you and you feel your stomach flip in anticipation.  

“I think you’re right,” he agrees.

“I’m Taehyung, by the way. Can’t wait to get to know you better, neighbor.” He drawls, before leaving to stand in line to board the plane.

The long haul flight starts out simple, conversation flowing between you and Taehyung easily. You discuss your plans for LA, what you hope to see, your friends. He’s a gentleman from the very beginning and asks questions about your life.  He seems genuinely curious about you.  He hands you his phone before the plane takes off, begging to see your Instagram.

You grin as you take the device and tap in your username, showing him the profile that pops up.

“God damn,” he sighs as he scrolls through your images.  Selfies, pictures with friends, your dog, everything.  “You’re really fucking attractive.”

You blush and watch as he presses the ‘follow’ button.  You’re just as eager to get a glimpse at his own profile.  The man looks like he could be a model, you’re sure his pictures do him justice.  Plus, you’re dying to show your friends the hottie who hit on you in the airport.

The flight takes off and you settle in for a long, 15 hour flight with your new companion.  

The chill of the recycled air prickles at your skin, and you’re tugging on the thin airplane blanket as soon as you can.

He coos at you, finding the sight of you cuddled up adorable.   “You’re really cute,” he states again.  “I’m like, ridiculously into you.”

Your cheeks heat. “You’re like, ridiculously confident, you know?”

He offers a wink in reply.

“I’d totally fuck you.” He sighs after a moment, causing you to splutter on your own spit.

“Jesus! We just met!” Your eyes widen in surprise, looking around to ensure no one on the plane heard your conversation.  

“So? What's the difference between meeting at a club or meeting on a plane?  After the club, you still get laid.”

You’re silent for a moment, pondering his words.  Honestly, he’s not wrong.  The only difference is the level of exhibitionism he’s exuding.  

But, the idea of hooking up with the handsome stranger on the flight has you aching in more than one way.

“Here?” You whisper harshly, heart rate elevating quickly.

He laughs for a moment.  “Damn, I meant like in the bathroom or something, but you’ve got a better idea.”

Your cheeks are nearly tomato red in color as he winks at you.  

“You down?” He asks sweetly.

You feel Taehyung’s hand land on your thigh, rubbing at the fabric of your yoga tights. You steal a glance at him and see him staring right back at you, a smirk clear in his perfectly shaped lips. 

“I-...,” it’s hard to talk, let alone breathe.  Taehyung is offering to pleasure you right here in the middle of a crowded plane.  The thought is heady and very persuasive.  “Will you stop if I ask you to?”

Tae’s eyes soften.  “Of course.  You just say the word and I’ll stop.”

His reaction seems genuine and makes your heart flutter in relief.   You worry your bottom lip for just a moment, and then nod your agreement.

“Just keep quiet,” you whisper and his grin is wicked.  

“I’d worry about yourself in that regard.”

You’re suddenly thankful the old man sitting next to Taehyung on the aisle seat is fast asleep, blackout mask covering his eyes and earbuds shoved in his ears. 

Tae’s fingers slide up and down your leg. He sees your blissed out face already and winks. 

Fuck, it’s incredible how quickly he turns you on. His hand on your leg has you absolutely soaking wet. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what else he could do, your body might not handle it. 

His fingers run up higher, towards where your thighs meet. He grazes his touch over your core and you’re sure he can feel your wetness. It feels like your whole body is burning, his touch igniting flames wherever he drags his fingers.  

He leans over to whisper in your ear. “I’m a little cold, mind if I share the blanket?”

You can only nod, the power of speech completely gone now.  You gasp as his fingers maintain an up and down motion along your clothed slit. 

He chuckles and pulls the blanket over himself to join you in the warmth. To any bystander on the plane, you appear as a loved up couple sharing a blanket for a nice nap. In reality, you’re strangers desperate to feel each other. 

“Pull these leggings down for me, baby?” He asks, but it sounds like a demand. You’re so into it you can’t even breathe. You idly obey, lifting your hips slightly to push the leggings down just far enough to not be suspicious. 

He turns his body to rest his head on your shoulder, giving off the illusion of a lovesick boyfriend wanting to cuddle.  

“Fuck,” he moans into your ear. His finger is rubbing along your pussy now, gathering up the slick that has gathered. “So fucking wet for me.”

You swallow thickly and try to bite back the loud moan begging to leave your lips. 

“Do you like that, babe?” He whispers, the breath in your ear making you shiver. “You want me to finger you here on the plane?” 

“P-please,” you croak out. He turns your face towards him and presses his lips against yours.  The kiss is all innocence, as his fingers slide into your core.  He’s the definition of heaven and hell.  You stifle a moan against his lips as you feel him enter you, his fingers curling up as he begins a gentle thrust.  The silver rings on his fingers are cold, and you’re sure they’ll be covered in your slick by the time he’s done with you.  

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.  “You feel like fucking heaven baby.”

You’re trying to stay quiet, biting your lip and breathing harshly through your nose.  His fingers pick up a pace and you’re desperate, legs spreading to allow him better access.  

“God,” he whispers into your ear, making you shiver. “I wish I could kneel down and eat you right now.  I bet you taste so good.” 

He’s filthy, his words becoming more lascivious as he continues fucking into you.  His pace becomes punishing, and you’re sure if someone looked over they could see the rhythmic bounce of the blanket.

“F-fuck,” you manage. He’s curling his fingers just right, and the metal of his rings is cold and slick from the wetness spilling from you.  

“You wanna cum for me, baby?” He asks, kissing your lips quickly.  “You wanna cum all over my hand?” 

You’re nodding quickly, trying to keep your eyes open to watch for any sign of being caught, but the thrill is forcing them closed.  

“Yes, please,” you’re begging and trying so hard to maintain your low whisper.  Breathing is even harder now as you feel your body reacting to his powerful fingers thrusting into you.  The coil inside you is so near snapping it nearly hurts.  

“So polite, baby,” he caresses your ear with a lave of his tongue.  “Let go for me, pet.  Let me see you cum on me in the middle of this plane.”

It seems as if you’re programmed to obey, and your body reacts in accord to his demands.  The coil snaps and your cunt is convulsing around his fingers.  Taehyung plasters his lips against yours to muffle your moaning, while coaxing your walls with his fingers to continue pulsing around him.  

It takes a moment to come down, and Tae pulls away from your lips which leaves you breathless. 

“Fuck, you’re the hottest person I’ve literally ever met,” he sighs. “I’d marry you right now if I could.”

You blush as you pant hard, feeling your wetness slip down your core to the leather seat underneath you.  You grimace at the feeling and Tae smirks.  He pops his slick finger into his mouth to clean it, maintaining constant eye contact with you, before he slips it out and presses the call flight attendant button.

Your eyes widen and you’re squirming to make sure the blanket covers you.   Taehyung looks like the picture of professionalism as the elderly attendant comes to your row.

“Hi, my wife spilled her drink.  Could we get some extra napkins?”  

The attendant nods and slips away, leaving you with your blown senses and quivering legs.  She’s back in an instant with a stack of napkins and Taehyung smiles sweetly at you.

“Let me help you, babe,” he grins.  “You’re so clumsy, it’s adorable.”  His hand slips back between your thighs, wiping at the mess he wrought out of you, before his fingers dance on your clit yet again.

The 15 hour flight may be the best and most torturous one yet.

By the time the plane lands on American soil, you’ve orgasmed 4 times at the hand of Taehyung.  You’ve also managed to give him a ferocious handjob that left some questionable stains on the airline provided blanket, and taken a nap in his embrace.

It’s single-handedly the weirdest flight you’ve ever taken but definitely your favorite. 

Tae walks next to you as you exit the plane, hand in hand.  You don’t know what the fuck is happening but you’re feeling as if you’ve just been crowned queen of England.

“So, my wife,” Taehyung jokes.  He kept the marriage roleplay up the whole flight, even regaling the once-sleeping man next to him with stories of how you met and where you got married.  The whole scenario had you completely flustered and heart fluttering anxiously as he described how beautiful you were on your wedding day. 

“I need to stop at the bathroom.  Would you care to come with and watch my luggage?”  He asks you, eyebrow raising suggestively.  

You’re silent for a moment, but notice his growing smirk.  

“Of course, darling,” you play.  He squeezes your hand in response and drags you to the closest private bathroom he can find.

It’s not big and it’s definitely seen better cleaning, but you don’t care as soon as Tae’s lips cover yours the moment the door closes.  All luggage is dropped and you’re throwing your arms around his neck.  He holds you tight and lifts you up slightly.

“God, I wanted to kiss you like that the whole flight,” he sighs after pulling away.  “I also wanted to fuck your tight little cunt until you can’t walk straight.”

“What’s stopping you, husband?” You tease as you press your hips to his.  

He growls with appreciation as he lunges forward to kiss you again, teeth nipping at your lips and tongue swirling around your mouth.

“That’s my dirty little girl,” he whispers as he tugs the shirt you’re wearing off your body. “Someone loves getting fucked where anyone could walk in.”  

You allow the fabric to fall to the ground, before you’re attaching your lips to his face, kissing and sucking down his neck.  His skin tastes salty and sweet, and you’re desperate to lick every inch. 

“Mmm, my little exhibitionist,” he slaps your ass and the sting elicits a gasp from you.  “I bet your cute pussy is still dripping wet from earlier.”  He pushes you against the cold tile of the wall. “Let me see please?” 

You nod as he kisses your lips one last time, then descends to his knees and pulls your leggings and hopelessly soiled panties with him. You’re sure your core is drenched.  The man made you cum more times in one flight than you had in most of your hookups, and that was from his fingers alone. 

“Shit,” he gasps as you step out of the leggings and expose your drenched folds. “This is the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen. Still so wet from my fingers.” 

He drags a digit through and pops it into his mouth, savoring the taste. You’re whimpering, worried your legs will give out from all blood rushing to your cunt. 

“I dreamed I got to wake you up from our nap by eating you out,” he admits as he pulls your folds apart and licks his lips at the sight of your clit. “I want to wake up between your thighs.” 

Any chance for retort is cut off, throat going dry as he pushes his tongue against your bundle of nerves, already overstimulated from an orgasm-filled flight.  He laps at it, swirling around it vulgarly before dipping lower to fuck his tongue into you. 

“I could fucking drink you.”  

Tae isn’t shy with words, that is a fact you’re now very aware of. He commentates the entire thing, whispering his desires as he fucks his tongue in you and suckles at your clit. 

“Tae, oh god,” you sigh. Your pussy has never been more pleasured in your short life, and in such a short time period. 

“Fuck, I love it when you say my name,” he whispers with a particularly rough lick to the hood of your clit. “I wanna make you cum on my tongue but I need to fuck you before my cock explodes.” 

“Yes, please, need you!” You whine needily and he slurps you one last time before he slips back up to level with you. 

You assist him in undoing his jeans and he whips his stiff cock out. 

“I want to suck you off,” you murmur as you stare at the head dripping with pre-cum. 

“Oh Christ,” he gasps and tilts his head back. “I want that too but I’m so desperate to be inside you, baby. Next time.” He smirks. 

He’s lining himself up, kissing your nose and lips and face as he pushes into you. 

It feels like the culmination of all your desire and passion. You’re finally full of him after 15 hours of his delicious foreplay and nothing has ever felt more satisfying than his push into your drenched channel. He feels as if he slots right into you perfectly, pussy walls molding around him like a puzzle piece you didn’t realize was missing. 

“Holy shit babe,” he groans. “Sweetest little pussy I’ve ever felt.”  His voice sounds dreamy, and his grip on your hips tightens. “Shit, I could get used to this.” 

You’re whimpering with want, desperate to feel his cock thrusting inside you. 

“Need you, Tae. Please fuck me.” 

He’s quick to comply, slowly pulling his length out before slamming it back in, eliciting a loud sob from your lips.  His cock slipping and fucking into you is the best feeling and you feel like you’ve injected the drug that is Tae directly into your veins.  

Taehyung keeps his filthy monologue running as he ruts into you. 

“You feel so good, little one,” he gasps. “So wet and tight for me.”

The tip of his cock bumps against your cervix, jolting you with each thrust. You wish you could take him deeper, so deep he never leaves. 

“Gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?” he asks as he tugs on your nipple. “Fuck, I want you to cum.” 

His lips move to suck at your neck, and your hands claw harsh red lines down his back. Your insides feel like lava, hot and boiling and ready to burn you down instantly.  

“P-please, so fucking close,” you weep. You’re sure you’ll never get fucked as good as you are right now, never feel as satisfied as you have over the last 15 hours. You’re desperate for everything and you want more, more. 

“Yeah, fuck, cum for me little slut. Let the airport hear you get railed!” 

Your back is arching into him and he picks up the speed and power.  Wet skin slapping on skin echoes around the bathroom like music and your combined sighs and moans are the lyrics to a song only you and Taehyung could create. 

“Oh my god, I’m cumming!” You scream. “Tae! Fuck Tae! Tae!” You chant his name like a prayer, devoting your orgasmic bliss to the deity pounding into you.  He growls ferally, the sweet litany of his name bringing him right to the edge. 

Your cunt pulsates around him, gripping his cock and sucking him in. He shudders a gasp as he feels himself unravel completely by the feel of your completion.  He pulls out quickly and jerks himself to the end, cum splattering all over your stomach and tits.  He whines your name as it lands on your skin, and he wishes he could see this every single day. 

It takes you both a few seconds to breathe again, clinging to each other like long lost lovers. 

Tae smiles down at your cum covered stomach. “Messy.” 

“Seems like your wife isn’t the only clumsy one,” you wink.  You drag your finger through the viscous liquid and lick it into your mouth.  Taehyung groans. 

“Shit you’re gonna get me ready for round 2 and I’ve got a taxi to catch in 5 minutes.” 

He presses against you and kisses you, uncaring about the wetness pressing in between stomachs. 

“That was the best flight I’ve ever taken in my life,” he sighs as you both unlatch and begin the process of dressing again. 

You blush like a cherry and nod. “I only want to fly with that kind of accommodation from now on.” 

He wiggles his eyebrows. “We could make that happen.” 

“Yeah?” You ask as you slip back into your slide sandals. “You want to see me again?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” He hops on one foot to slip his own shoes on. “I’d fucking fly 15 hours again just to be with you.” 

Hope blooms in your chest, thankful that for some reason he seems as interested in continuing as you are.  You press towards him again and kiss him deeply, tongue slipping past his lips to demonstrate your desire. 

“Call me?” You ask. He nods in a daze. 

Your phone is ringing incessantly, reminding you that your best friend is waiting outside the airport and wondering where you are.  You have to leave and you find it hard to say goodbye. 

“Thank you for flying Kim Taehyung airlines,” he jokes as you grab your luggage and open the bathroom door. 

You choke on your laughter and blow a kiss, then push forward and leave behind the gorgeous and confident man of 14B in the bathroom. 

It’s not until an hour later when you settle into your hotel bed that you notice an instagram message. 

vante 12:45 am: let’s meet tonight. let me show you first class 😉

-2 years later-

The dash from the chapel to the airport is ridiculously quick.  You barely have enough time to change out of your white gown and slip into something comfortable, wave goodbye to the friends and family gathered in your honor, and slide into a taxi towards the international terminals. 

Tae holds your hand with a grin. He’s just as tired as you but you both can’t hold back your excitement, your awe of each other, elated by the events of the day and the thrill of the unknown future. He kisses you deeply during the taxi ride, uncaring about the way the driver eyes you two. Kissing Tae will never get old, you think, and you’re struck by the way he makes you feel each time his lips press to yours. 

His hands linger on your body, then slips to tangle your fingers together, diamond ring slipping against his smooth metal one.  He wants to kiss you more, take you there in the backseat, but you’re pulling up to the terminal before you know it and being tugged out of the backseat with your luggage in tow. 

Check in is a breeze, and you’re suddenly sitting at the waiting area of the gate—nose in a book as Taehyung sits beside you and fiddles with the luggage and boarding passes. 

“Wow, you’re really cute,” he speaks after moments of silence.  He peers at you over the book. 

You lower it to your lap with a sly grin. 

“I think I need to use the bathroom.” He says. The sparkle in his eyes sends shocks through you, as if it’s the first time you’re seeing him again.  “Care to assist me with my luggage?” 

You can’t fight the giggle and blush that polishes your cheeks.  

“Lead the way, husband.” 

© 2020 ppersonna.  do not repost, copy, or translate without express permission from author

[hrina]

In The Ring, Pt. II - Cross

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: highly lol!

hi again! here’s PART 2 of boxer!harry :) thank u all for such a wonderful response on the first part, i can’t explain how much it means to me. i worked really hard on this chapter, so i hope u guys love it! if u do, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated, and i’ll probably ask for ur hand in marriage in return.

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

u can find the rest of this series on my masterlist, which is linked in my bio! my inbox is also there if you wanna spare a few thoughts about this part. love u guys sm, stay safe out there 💛💛💛

~*~

    January 19, 2021

It’s ten at night, and you’re curled up in bed, scrolling through social media. You should be doing the assigned readings for your anatomy class, but you’re procrastinating. Besides, watching video after video of cute kittens peeking their furry little heads out of cardboard boxes is a much better way to pass the time.

Your relaxation period is interrupted when a notification banner descends from the top of your screen. It’s an unknown number, but the content of the message makes your eyes widen in surprise.

Hi. It’s Harry. I’m at the gym.

You tap on the text immediately, waiting with bated breath as you’re taken to a different app. You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, thumbs hovering over the screen before they begin to type.

Hey! I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Harry’s reply is short, concise, to-the-point—just like him. Oddly enough, it makes you smile.

Okay. See you soon.

~*~

The first thing that Harry notices when you walk through the door is that you’re slightly out of breath. He’s standing in the middle of the ring, his eyes fixated on the opposite side of the room as you enter. Your hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and you’re wearing a pair of leggings and a tank top under your jacket. Your sneakers squeak against the floor as you stride over to him, fingers wiggling in a friendly wave.

“Hi!” you call out, shooting him a kind smile.

Harry leans against the ropes circling the ring, careful not to put too much of his weight on the barriers lest he flip over and fall to the floor. It’s happened once or twice, and each time, he ended up with a bruised tailbone afterward.

“Hi,” he replies.

You shrug your coat from your shoulders as you draw nearer. “How are you?” you ask, peering up at him curiously.

“Good, thanks,” he says. His fingers toy absentmindedly with the silver cross pendant dangling from his neck. “Er…did you run here?”

“What? Oh, no,” you answer with a breathless laugh. “I drove. But I was hurrying—I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

You’re so fucking sweet. He’s going to throw up.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say, tightening your ponytail with both hands. “You’re going out of your way to do this for me. And while we’re on the subject of that—thank you, again. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Harry says. He slips between the ropes and hops down from the platform. “Shall we start?”

“We shall,” you agree, biting back a teasing smile. “Am I going up against you?”

Despite himself, Harry chuckles. He shakes his head. “Not yet. First, you need to learn the basics.”

“Basics,” you echo, nodding once. “Right.”

He leads you over to the side of the ring, where a pair of punching bags have been strung up near the wall. The arrangement is nothing special—twin leather bags, one brown and one black, filled with sand and stitched together with strong, coarse thread. Reflexively, you reach out, running your fingertips along the black bag and giving it a gentle push. It swings outward before returning back to you. Harry watches you closely, examining the gentle crease between your brows and the slight glaze that smooths over your pupils. He clears his throat quietly, and you seem to snap out of your trance.

“Do you know how to punch?” he asks.

You purse your lips, looking unsure of yourself. “Um…I think so.”

He nods. “Show me, then.”

The blow that you deliver to the bag is weak at best. Harry immediately notices a handful of things that you’re doing wrong. When you pull your arm back and peer up at him, he’s trying his hardest to hold back a smirk.

“What?” You frown.

“Nothing.” He snickers softly, shaking his head again. “It’s just…that was cute.”

“‘Cute’?” you parrot, narrowing your eyes. You scoff good-naturedly, stepping back and holding your arm out in invitation. “You do it, then.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Gladly.”

The chain hanging from the ceiling rattles when his fist makes contact with the leather. The punching bag itself swings forward in an extraordinary arc before hurtling back in your direction. You gasp when Harry stops it with his palms. He grunts quietly, stilling it before turning around to face you. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, and he’s sure that his eyes are gleaming with a smug sparkle. You just cross your arms over your chest, gazing at him evenly with your chin held high.

“Fine,” you say. “Tell me what to do.”

Harry gets you situated back in front of the bag, standing beside you and studying your posture.

“First of all,” he starts, “you need to make sure that the position of your feet matches the position of your arms.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shooting him a confused pout.

“Like this—,” Harry reaches for your shoulders before pausing, his fingers only inches away from your skin. “Er,” he clears his throat, fixing you with inquisitive eyes, “is it alright if I touch you?”

You nod wordlessly. Harry swallows down the lump in his throat as his hands close the distance between your bodies. He slants your torso to the side before reaching for your arms, bending them at the elbow so that your fingers—now curled into loose fists—are suspended in front of your face.

“If you’re angling yourself this way,” Harry starts, mimicking your stance, “you need to make sure that your right foot is leading you. But if you stand in the opposite direction—,” he changes sides, adopting a mirror image of his previous position, “—then it has to be your left foot. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say confidently. That same crease is digging into the space between your eyebrows; Harry aches to reach out and flatten it with the pad of his thumb.

“Also,” he says, delicately wrapping his fingers around your wrists, “when you punch, you can’t drop your other hand. Keep it up at all times—you need to guard your face.”

“Guard my face,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “Okay, cool.”

You throw an experimental punch at the bag, and Harry doesn’t miss the shadow of pain that flashes across your features. His eyes trail down the length of your arm, lingering on your fist. Before you can deliver another blow, he stops you, catching your knuckles in the calloused valley of his palm and halting your movements.

“Keep your thumb on the outside,” he says, peeling your fingers open and freeing your thumb from beneath them. “You’ll break it, otherwise.”

He curls the digits back up, this time so that your hand is settled in the proper arrangement. He then steps back, jerking his head toward the bag and encouraging you to take another swing. “Try it, now.”

The third blow is better than the past two. You beam up at Harry when a promising smack! echoes through the air. He smiles reassuringly at you, nodding his head and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Good. That’s a start.”

“Put me in, Coach,” you tease, bringing your fists up to your face and bouncing playfully on the balls of your feet. Your eyes shimmer as you peek at him from behind your knuckles. Harry presses his lips together to keep himself composed, but he can’t stop the faint snort that slips out of his nose. You laugh cheerfully, dropping your arms back to your sides.

“Okay, so I know how to punch,” you say. “What’s next?”

“There’s four main punches in boxing,” Harry replies. He steadies himself in front of the bag, his left foot extended to provide balance.

“The jab—”

He punches with his left fist, pointed and forceful.

“—the cross—”

He strikes with his right hand, driving the weight of his body into the blow.

“—the hook—”

He curves his arm, angling it accordingly so that he can deliver a hit to the side of the bag.

“—and finally, the uppercut.”

He bends his elbow, scooping upward so that his fist makes contact with the bottom half of the bag. The sand inside shifts audibly as it rattles around, looping in every direction and gathering momentum. Harry turns back to you as it continues to swing in circles, cracking his knuckles loudly and seeking you out.

Your eyes are wide. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you look a bit…enthralled. His brow furrows in confusion.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, and he’s taken aback by the breathless quality of your voice. You clear your throat quickly, scratching at your hairline and looking away. “You’re just very…dedicated. That’s all.”

“I’ve got to be,” Harry hums. He turns back to the punching bag and ceases its movements. “This is how I make a living.” His lips quirk up with the hint of a smile. “We can’t all go to medical school and become doctors.”

A weak laugh tumbles from your mouth. “I haven’t even gotten in yet,” you say from behind him.

“But you will,” he murmurs, the reply slipping out before he can weigh it on his tongue. “Without a doubt.”

He pauses when the words finally sink in, his shoulders stiffening and his eyes stamping shut. If you weren’t standing so close, he would have leaned forward and crushed his forehead into the rough leather of the punching bag. His lips mould around unspoken curses as a heavy silence descends upon the two of you.

At last, you finally choke out, “I—thank you, Harry. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“No problem,” he grunts. He steps back, spinning on his heel but refusing to meet your gaze. You’re probably looking at him like that—with soft, glimmering irises and earnestness woven through every cell in your body. If your eyes lock, he knows that he’ll be overrun with the urge to kiss you.

And he knows that if that happens, he might not be able to hold himself back.

“What time do you have to be home?” Harry asks, subtly trying to change the topic.

You lift one eyebrow challengingly, like you know exactly what he’s doing. Still, though, you humour him.

“I told my dad I was going to a friend’s house,” you say, shrugging lightly. “We have time, don’t worry.” You smile as a thought crosses your mind. “Just make sure you don’t get me too sweaty by the end of the night, okay? I can’t go home looking like I’ve just run a marathon.”

Harry’s cock twitches in his shorts at the thought of rendering you sticky and speechless. Of watching you walk away from him with wobbly knees and messy hair. Of dropping you off at home and nibbling on your neck one last time for good measure. He quickly shoos the temptations away, clearing his throat and nodding in accord.

“Minimal sweating,” he concedes. “I’ll try my best.”

Deep down, he knows that you’ll most likely be drenched with perspiration once he’s through with you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, though.

Harry makes his way over to the ring, snatching up a pair of gloves lying on the platform. He turns back around, tossing them to you and fighting a smile when you yelp in surprise. With an awkward flail, you manage to catch them in your arms. You shoot him a questioning look, lifting your eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.

“Put those on,” he orders, clapping his hands together once. “We’re gonna try to perfect your stance, tonight.”

“Why do I need to wear them, then?” you ask, gazing down blankly at the gloves nestled against your chest.

“You don’t need to, I suppose,” Harry says, shrugging. “But your knuckles will probably be destroyed by the end of the night.”

“Oh.” You make a face, wrinkling your nose up in distaste. “Okay, yeah—I’ll use them.”

He smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “We want to be careful, don’t we? Those are the steady hands of a future surgeon.”

You scoff, laughing gently at his quip. “Hopefully,” you say, a sweet smile playing on your lips. “Let’s just pray that I get the right grades.”

You will, Harry thinks, but this time, he bites his tongue to keep the sentiment contained. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re perfect. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to sleep next to you at night and prepare you breakfast in the morning. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you smile. I want to—

“Harry?”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

You fix him with a benevolent look. “Zoning out on me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, approaching you as you struggle to tug on one of the boxing gloves. His eyes fall to your hands and he reaches out, halting your movements with a gentle, “Let me.”

You peek up at him shyly as he guides your fingers into the glove. He keeps his gaze trained downward, avoiding your eyes. One of his rough palms grasps your elbow as he tugs the Velcro strip tight around your wrist. Once he’s done the same with the other one, he releases you and steps back.

“Thank you,” you say softly. He just nods in response.

“Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart,” he says, and you spread your legs according to his command.

For a brief moment, the image of you separating your thighs to accommodate his hips flashes through his mind, but he squeezes his eyes shut and wills it away.

The rest of the night is painful—his cock grows stiffer and stiffer by the hour, spurred on by each sweet smile that you send his way. By the time you’re through with the session and bidding him goodnight as he locks up, he’s half-hard beneath his black shorts. He hopes that you don’t notice.

You shoot him a cheerful wave and drive away, and he watches before toddling over to his own vehicle. As soon as he slides into the driver’s seat, he releases a heavy, guttural groan, slouching forward and pressing his forehead to the crest of the steering wheel. Blindly, he sticks his key into the ignition and turns it, and the truck rumbles to life. A quick glance at the dashboard reveals that it’s well past midnight. Only then does he realise the extent of his exhaustion.

He backs out of the parking lot, pulling onto the main street and training his eyes on the road ahead. If he squints, he can still make out the red taillights of your car.

The journey back to his apartment passes in no time. Harry climbs sluggishly up four flights of stairs, tumbling into his home and pressing the door shut with one hand. He drags his feet down the hall and past the threshold of his bedroom, pausing only to rip his t-shirt from his torso before collapsing onto his mattress. Obscure silhouettes dance across his eyelids as they drift shut.

The last thing on his mind before sleep overtakes him is the gentle slope of your smile.

    February 21, 2021

One month and a handful of late-night sessions later, Harry finds himself inundated with guilt. He’s constantly plagued by memories of your virtual conversations—short, brief little interactions consisting primarily of him letting you know that he’s free to train that evening. Your responses, ripe with exclamation marks and prattles of gratitude. You’ve taken up the habit of texting him after each lesson, too, composing a quick thank-you message before shutting your phone for the night.

And Harry regrets everything—agreeing to teach you how to box, letting you know when he’s available to meet, encouraging you as your technique progresses. On several occasions, he’s considered breaking things off, telling you that he’s too busy, that you should be focussing exclusively on school instead of on how to throw a right hook.

But then you look at him like that. With bright, trusting eyes and open features and that easy, dazzling smile. And the wall that he’s been trying so hard to build back up—not that it was particularly robust to begin with—comes crashing down.

His match is set to start in fifteen minutes, and you’re not here. You have a midterm tomorrow—your father had mentioned it in passing. You’ve been holed up in your room all weekend, he said, permanently absorbed in the pages of your textbook.

And Harry’s nervous, because you’re his lucky charm. What the fuck is he supposed to do, now?

The minutes seem to fly by—before he knows it, he’s stepping out into the ring with the crowd’s thundering screams echoing in his ears. His opponent isn’t the biggest man he’s ever gone up against, but he’s definitely not scrawny. Harry’s maybe two inches shorter than him—under normal circumstances, the height difference wouldn’t have fazed him. But he’s already on edge due to your absence, so even the smallest observations are proving to be exceedingly disconcerting.

Looking back, he supposes that he should’ve known.

Doomed from the start, destined to fail—whatever you want to call it.

Point being, he loses. Horrendously.

And he’s not quite sure when they bring the stretcher out and peel him off of the floor of the ring, but he knows that it’s sometime after the second round. He blinks rapidly, fading in and out of consciousness as moisture trickles down the side of his face. Somewhere beneath the wooziness, he’s well aware that the match is over. Your father is standing over him, walking at a brisk pace to keep up with the two men carrying him out of the arena.

“What do you mean, he called in sick?” your father spits, his eyes alight with anger. “You couldn’t find anybody else?”

The man behind Harry’s head says something that he can’t quite discern. His response makes your father grit his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, punching in a number and bringing the device up to his ear.

A few moments later, his expression lights up, relief flooding his features. “Gioia? Yeah, hi…”

Harry’s vision fades to black.

~*~

“…going to have some strong words with the bastard that did this—”

“Gioia, please. That’s how the sport works.”

An outraged scoff. “Who the hell kicks a man while he’s down?”

No reply.

Harry drifts off once more.

~*~

When his eyelids flutter open, it takes a moment for him to regain his bearings. Through the blurriness of his vision, he sees a dim light hanging from the ceiling, bathing his surroundings in a pale white glow. He blinks rapidly, hoping that his sight will sharpen with each flutter of his lashes. There’s a dull pain throbbing against the right side of his torso, battering against his ribcage and pulling an agonized groan from his lips.

The low sound is met with a high gasp. Seconds later, a face is looming over his own. Harry forces himself to concentrate on the person’s features—kind, worried eyes, raised brows, and pretty, parted lips. His heart begins to gallop in his chest.

“Harry,” you breathe. A few gentle fingers card through his hair. The sensation of your nails against his scalp makes him shiver. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he croaks, his voice hoarse.

Despite the worry swimming around in your irises, you emit a shy laugh.

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask, pulling your hand out of his hair. He nearly whines at the loss.

“Think so,” he mutters. He places his palms flat against the surface beneath him—a bed, perhaps?—and pushes himself onto his elbows. The muted pain in his side flares fiercely, making him choke on his own breath. You reach out for him, setting one hand down on his shoulder while the other wraps delicately around his bicep.

“Easy, easy,” you soothe, tutting disapprovingly. “Be careful.”

“’M always careful,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” you reply sarcastically, nodding your head. “And that’s how you ended up like this, right?”

A short, wheezing laugh punches its way out of his lungs. “Touché.”

Once he’s sitting up, he takes note of the room—well, it’s not really a room. The only thing separating the two of you from whatever lies outside is a thin curtain drawn over what he presumes to be the exit. To his left, a single cabinet with multiple drawers stands only a few feet away. You’re both tucked into a little alcove in the wall, no bigger than a standard bedroom. Harry glances around, his gaze landing on a single plastic chair facing the bed. Everything is set up like a hospital room (but far less comfortable, and severely lacking in terms of medical equipment).

“Where’s Coach?” he asks, creases forming along his forehead.

“He went to go grab us some coffee,” you explain, your eyes scanning his face. “It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Nearly two.”

“Fuck.” His head snaps toward you. “Don’t you have a midterm tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “But it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, gritting his teeth and glaring at you sharply. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You recoil a bit at his harsh tone. “Your stupid medic took a sick day,” you tell him, your voice hard. “And my dad asked me to come in and have a look at you. Who knows where you’d be if I hadn’t shown up.”

Regret washes over him. He slouches back against the bed—it’s more of a cot, really—and blows out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.” You wave his apology away with a quick flick of your fingers. “Just…be quiet for a second, alright? I need to examine you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch as the words sink in.

“Can you move to the edge of the bed?” you ask, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. “I need to see you properly, but I don’t want to make you stand just yet.”

“Sure.”

He shifts his body to the right, slowly dragging his legs off of the cot with a distressed wince. The floor is cold when his feet make contact with the ground, but he pays it no attention. He’s shirtless, clad only in the shorts he’d been wearing when he first stepped into the ring. He purses his lips and feels something stiff realign against his cheek. When he brings his hand up to his face, he finds a cottony piece of fabric taped onto his skin.

“What—?” He looks up at you in confusion.

“It was bleeding pretty badly,” you tell him. “I had to stop it, somehow.”

For the first time that night, he takes you in properly. You’re wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants—it looks like the type of outfit that one would shrug on if they were in a rush to leave the house. Another pang of guilt jolts through his chest.

“What happened?” Harry croaks, pulling his hand away from his cheek.

“My dad told me that the other guy was wearing a bracelet,” you say; frustration drips from your words. “He didn’t take it off before the match started. It’s not a big cut, but it’s deep. You’ll probably need a few stitches.”

“And you know how to do that?” he asks, watching as you circle around the bed and approach the cabinet on the opposite side. He twists in an attempt to keep his eyes on you, but then grunts lowly at the ache that thrums against his side. When he looks down at his torso, he discovers a large splotch of blue and purple decorating the skin covering his ribs.

“I watched my mom do it back when my dad used to coach Artie,” you say absentmindedly, rifling through a few drawers and collecting the supplies that you need. You pause, your eyes clouding over with something forlorn. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why I want to go into medicine. I think…it would’ve made her proud.”

“It would’ve,” Harry agrees.

He watches you carefully as you make your way back over to him, afraid of prying or saying the wrong thing. Your mother’s death had hit your family hard; he rarely hears you or your father mention her. But maybe that’s for the best—wounds can’t heal if they’re being ripped open time after time again. He would know.

You dump a handful of materials down onto the bed—disinfectant, cotton swabs, tissues, gauze, a needle, thread, and a pack of medical sutures. Harry swallows heavily.

“Do you mind if I…?” you trail off, pursing your lips timidly. Somehow, he understands exactly what you’re referring to.

“No, not at all,” he says. The words fall from his mouth a bit too quickly.

With no further preamble, he spreads his legs, and you step into the space made available between his knees. You lean to the side, reaching for the disinfectant and cotton swabs on the bed, but then nearly lose your balance in the process. Harry’s hand flies upward reflexively, settling on your hip to keep you steady.

You glance down at him with wide eyes, and he hastily removes his palm from your body. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and is it just his imagination, or do you sound a bit…breathless?

“You’ve got a couple of scrapes on your face,” you continue. You clear your throat, uncapping the antiseptic and dipping a cotton swab into the bottle. “This’ll hurt a little.”

“It’s alright—fuck!” he swears, scowling deeply at the sting that blooms across his chin. You chew on your bottom lip, dragging the swab over his injuries with practiced, nimble fingers. His toes curl against the cold, concrete floor.

Once you’ve finished sterilising his minor wounds, you turn your attention to the massive bruise on his torso.

“Can I?” you ask softly, extending your arm but pausing only inches away from his skin.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He fights back against a shudder when your fingertips ghost over his ribs. You hesitate, applying a bit more pressure and cringing when he groans. “Sorry,” you whisper, making a move to pull away.

“No,” Harry breathes quickly. He catches your hand in his, trapping your palm back against his side. Briefly, he notes the unmistakable softness of your knuckles, so different from his own. “’S okay. Do what you need to do.”  

You nod tautly, pressing your fingers against the bruise once more. Harry grinds his teeth together, trying his best to withstand the pain. You prod around for a few seconds, your brow furrowed in concentration. When you don’t appear to find anything worrisome, you sigh in relief and drop your arm so that it rests limply at your side.

“No broken ribs,” you announce quietly. “At least, not as far as I can tell.”

“That’s reassuring,” he jokes.

A weak laugh falls from your mouth. “I haven’t gotten into med school yet, remember?”

He chuckles. Your eyes suddenly darken, and an angry scowl curls along your lips.

“He kicked you while you were knocked out,” you murmur, shaking your head in disbelief. “Fucking asshole.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly upward, his mouth twitching at your vulgar words. You catch sight of his amused expression, but instead of mirroring it, your frown only deepens.

“It’s not funny,” you say. “He fought dirty.”

“This whole setup is illegal, baby,” he says. Neither of you comment on the pet name that slips out of his mouth. He hopes that you view it as part of an expression, and not a proclamation of his affection. “Fighting dirty—they don’t care about that. If anything, it just gives them one hell of a show.”

“Still,” you mutter, gluing your eyes to the discoloured skin covering his ribs. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

Harry smiles softly, reaching out and tucking two fingers beneath your chin. Your lips part in surprise, and he tilts your face up so that he can look at you properly.

“Thank you,” he says, his tone entirely sincere, “for taking care of me.”

Your throat bobs with a hefty swallow—he can feel it against his knuckles. You lift your hand up to his face, and for a moment, he thinks that you mean to stroke his cheek lovingly. But then you scrape your thumb over the bandage covering his cut, and he’s reminded that this doesn’t mean anything.

You’re here to stitch him back up—nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“I’m not done yet,” you say.

The two of your drop your fingers at the same time. Harry clears his throat, trying to absolve the tension in the air. You seize some of the other supplies still strewn across the bed, laying them out properly before getting to work.

You’re diligent, removing the bandage on his cheek and using a few tissues to mop up the blood that immediately begins to drip downward, rolling over the jut of his jaw. He curses when you pass another cotton swab over his injury, screwing his face up at the smarting prickle of the antiseptic.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur absentmindedly, keeping your eyes trained on the wound. “We definitely don’t want this one to get infected.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, because he can’t exactly nod with your fingers probing around.

“This is going to be the worst part,” you warn, pulling back and opening the pack of stitches.

You unwind a piece of thread from its spool, taking the string between your lips and severing it with your teeth. Harry watches you closely, anxiety frothing in the pit of his stomach. In all of his years spent boxing, he’s only needed stitches once—the procedure hurt like a bitch, especially since there had been no anaesthetic available. He remembers the pain like it was yesterday, and he’s not looking forward to having to endure it again.

When you guide the first stitch through his skin, he balls his hands into tight fists. His lips tuck themselves into a thin line, and an agonized moan bubbles up in his chest. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment; upon reopening, they glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your voice shakes.

“It’s okay,” Harry grits out. His blunt nails dig into his palms. “Keep…keep going.”

“A few more,” you babble; he’s not sure whether you’re trying to comfort him or yourself. “Just a few more.”

It takes you roughly fifteen minutes (you haven’t really had much practice, after all) to sew his wound closed with five stitches. It is by no means the cleanest application, but it’s not bad. You retrieve another cotton swab and dip it into the bottle of disinfectant, running it along the seam of his injury one last time. After that, you finally blow out the stale air that has accumulated in your lungs.

“Thank you,” Harry mutters. “Truly.”

“No problem,” you breathe. You busy yourself with gathering up all of the supplies, cradling them to your chest and making your way around the bed. As you dump everything back into the top drawer of the cabinet, you say, “Harry. Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he hums. He’s nervous about speaking too animatedly, afraid to disrupt the work you’ve just done on his cheek.

“How long have you been boxing?”

He peers at you from over his shoulder, eyes following your movements as you return to his side of the cot and sit down next to him. “Er…,” he pauses, thinking, “…about ten years, now.”

“You started at sixteen?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

He smiles softly before remembering the sutures sewn into his skin. A beat of silence passes.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Why did you want me to teach you how to box?” he says. You open your mouth—to feed him another lie, surely—but he carries on before you get the chance to speak. “And don’t say it’s because you were just curious, or some bullshit like that. I want the truth.”

“Harry…,” you begin softly, looking at him with pleading eyes. He shakes his head, adamant and unmoved.

“The truth.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Instinctively, you reach for your throat, tugging at the rose-gold chain hanging there and fiddling nervously with the pendant nestled between your collarbones. It looks like you’re trying to figure out what to say, how to approach the situation without revealing something that could potentially make it any worse.

“Do you remember that guy I was seeing a few months ago?” you say, your voice small. “James?”

And oh, Harry remembers. He remembers watching the two of you swap spit on top of the bleachers at one of his matches. He remembers imagining James in the place of his opponent, and then making sure to aim all of his punches directly for the face (he won, that night.) He remembers seeing the sparkle in your eyes slowly start to dim the longer you stayed with him. He remembers the aftermath of your breakup, when James had shown up at the gym and screamed at you to come outside, deterred only after Portia threatened to call the police.

He fucking remembers.

“Yeah,” he spits. The affirmation is coated in a thick layer of venom. “What about him?”

His eyes widen a touch when it all clicks, then, like pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.

“What did he do?” he demands immediately, fixing you with a stern glare. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just…I’ve been seeing him around. A lot. And I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid, maybe, but—,” you inhale deeply, “—it feels like he’s following me.”

Your name slips past Harry’s lips in a hard, firm tenor. When you look up at him warily, he stares straight into your eyes, leaving no room for you to break away.

“You need to tell someone about this,” he says steadfastly. “You need to go to the police.”

“I don’t even know if I’m right,” you tell him. Your mouth curls down into an apprehensive frown. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, especially if it all just turns out to be one big coincidence.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Harry asks. A bitter taste settles on his tongue. “How often has this been happening?”

You tilt your head to the side, lost in thought. “Two days ago,” you finally say, shrugging helplessly. “And…I don’t know. I’ve seen him, like, nine or ten times in total.”

“Ten times,” he hisses, “in a few months? That’s not normal, and you know it.”

“Harry,” you plead, tugging nervously at the hem of your t-shirt. “Please. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“How can you—?” he starts, but then you lurch forward, putting a dainty hand on his thigh.

“Please,” you repeat, shaking your head softly. “Just…keep this between us, okay? The last thing I want is for my dad to find out.”

And maybe it’s the tenderness brewing in your eyes when you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the wilt in your voice, the feeblest he’s ever heard. Maybe it’s the feeling of your fingers on his leg, burning a hole through his shorts and searing a mark—a brand—into his skin. Harry sighs, looking away from you and running his fingers anxiously through his curly hair.

“You’re bloody stupid, you know that?” he asks, scoffing quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply, the corners of your mouth kinking up into a half-hearted smile. “I know.”

“Got you a latte, gioia—”

The dinky curtain in front of you is pulled back by none other than your father, who is holding a tray of coffee in his right hand. He blinks at the scene laid out before him—you and Harry on the small cot, sitting a bit too close for comfort. Your hand on his thigh. You both jump, breaking away from each other and inhaling sharply. Harry clears his throat as you cough into your elbow, standing up and reaching for one of the drinks nestled in the tray.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your father’s cheek.

His eyes bounce between the two of you, forehead wrinkling in curiosity as he asks, “What’d I miss?”

You peer down at Harry from over the rim of your cup, panicked and beseeching. He just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly; the tattoos inked into his skin ripple with the act. His tone is steady when he meets your father’s gaze.

“I’ve got some bruised ribs and a wicked headache, but aside from that—,” he lies, “—nothing at all.”

~*~

Your father ends up driving him home.

He parks the car just in front of Harry’s apartment complex, watching with worried eyes as he slips out of the passenger door.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” he asks.

Harry just nods, waving away his concerns. “I’m fine, Coach, really. Thanks for the ride.”

Your father nods—still looking a little unsure—before speeding off.

Climbing up four flights of stairs with bruised ribs is hell, Harry soon learns. By the time he reaches his floor, he’s panting and wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He pulls his keys out of his coat pocket, unlocking the front door and staggering into his apartment. A pained whimper slips out of his mouth as he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders.

He slowly makes his way into the bathroom, cupping his battered side over the material of his t-shirt. The water is cold when he first turns the shower on. He grits his teeth, fiddling with the temperature and meticulously removing his clothes as it warms.

The moment the first droplet hits his skin, he lets out a deep, guttural groan. He hadn’t realised just how tense he was until now. He stands under the spray of the water, tipping his head back and letting it wash away every trace of dirt and grime on his body. His hair grows heavy with moisture, sticking to his scalp and his forehead. He leans against the wall of the shower, inhaling deeply. His eyelids flutter shut, and your smiling face appears amidst the darkness.

Almost subconsciously, his hand finds its way to his cock.

Part of him is disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be—

He moans.

In the realm of his perverse imagination, you’re straddling him, your arms looped leisurely around his neck and your whimpers echoing into the cavern of his mouth. Your hips roll against his, unhurried and languid and deep. So fucking deep. Harry reaches down with one hand, squeezing greedily at the curve of your ass, and you whine in response, encouraging him to do it again.

He pumps his length in the shower, panting quietly.

Your fronts are pressed together as you rut into his lap, your nipples brushing against the ebony birds on his chest and your silky walls wrapped around him like a vice. He grunts; you swallow the sound down, your hot, heavy breaths wafting out onto his chin. His fingers dig into your thighs when you steady yourself on your knees, doing your best to bounce up and down on him properly. It’s frantic, it’s uncoordinated, it’s sloppy, but…it’s perfect.

Your nails scrape down his back as the two of you move together, a steady series of push and pull, like water under a bridge. If you’re the moon, then he’s the tides, bending and swirling under your gentle light. Every time you rock forward, he meets you there, your bodies connecting with faint slaps of skin on skin. You gaze at him with hooded eyes, lust simmering beneath your lashes. Electricity tingles across his shoulders.

The noises that you emit are music to his ears. Delicate sighs when he nips at your breasts, earthy groans when he hits that special spot inside of you. And woven between them, imploring pleas, murmurs of right there and oh, yes and so good.

It’s embarrassing, how quickly he finishes.

He stands there, leaning against the tiles with his cock in his hand and his release dripping from his fingertips. He has the decency to feel appalled by his actions, at the very least. If you were aware of what he had just done, he knows for a fact that you would never speak to him again.

He cleans himself up, shampooing his hair and scrubbing down every inch of his body. When he steps out of the shower and shuts the water, a wave of exhaustion washes over him, making him sway on his feet. His lips vibrate with a soft sigh.

His phone chimes from where it’s perched on the bathroom counter. When he taps on it, he finds a message from you.

Feel better soon, it reads. The guilt festering in his chest increases tenfold.

Thank you, he says back, shoving the remorse down. Good luck on your midterm tomorrow.

A moment later, your reply comes through.

Thanks! Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight, he types. He pauses for a moment, debating over whether he should include a little red heart after the word. But then he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at his own insolence and sending the text without a second thought.

He doesn’t even bother drying himself off before padding across the hall and into his bedroom. He collapses onto his mattress, still covered in tiny droplets that bead along his shoulders and trail downward, wetting the duvet. He doesn’t care. It’ll dry, and so will he.

He falls asleep moments later, the repaired skin of his cheek tingling in the dark.

~*~

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[hawkinsindiana]

i don’t want you to worry

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER ONE OF ELEVEN (?)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 3.8k

a/n: six months later, here’s part three! i’m not gonna lie to y’all, i have no idea how many chapters there are gonna be or if it’ll get updated regularly, but fuck it. i’ve been sitting on this for a while and figured we could use a bit of levity! thank you for your patience! hope you enjoy! lmao i didn’t feel like making a gif pls forgive me

masterlist

Fog is hovering just above the ground; you can practically feel how thick and wet it is against your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck all stand as a gust of wind flows through the air - the freezing temperature makes you shiver.

The ground is wet, squelching underneath your sneakers as you move forward, still uncertain of where you are; the environment’s been completely coated in the dense fog. When your surroundings finally begin to clear a bit, your heart starts to race in fear once you recognize where you are. 

It’s the junkyard.

“Stay close, yeah?” 

The voice sounds like it’s right inside your ear, but at least he’s here - you’d recognize him anywhere.

Steve’s to your left, bat slung effortlessly over his shoulder, and his presence helps calm your nerves. You won’t have to face this alone. 

You want to thank him before the situation gets any worse, but your mouth won’t cooperate. All you’re able to reply with is a nod. 

Suddenly, the palm of your hand feels heavy with the weight of your weapon; Steve presses on, moving through the space to approach the threat that lurks beyond. A form begins to take shape behind the grey clouds, hunched down on all fours as it stalks towards your position. Your fingers tense as you prepare to fight and adrenaline begins to overtake you, until the silhouette rises onto two legs. It’s not supernatural, it’s human. 

You want to call out to Steve, tell him to fall back because it’s too dangerous but your voice still doesn’t work - you can’t warn him what’s coming. The soles of your shoes dig into the ground as you run to catch up with him, fingers extended out to grab and yank him away. 

But it’s too late. One moment he’s right there in front of you, the next he’s gone, vanished right before your eyes. You blink.

On the ground, Steve’s in the dirt, blood spilling from his face; Billy Hargrove quickly approaches.

And then, it’s just like that night. You’re unable to move, unable to save him as Steve tries to fight back but Billy’s too quick. His crimson colored fists are tearing skin with each impact until the brunette boy on the ground is lifeless, as if all warmth was drained right from him. Billy’s twisted grin never falters as he relishes in your pain, tears streaming down your face until-

You wake with a gasp, body jolting, hands shaking. 

God, it feels so real, like you’re still there; your nose can smell the disgusting metallic scent from the blood, skin still chilled from the temperature, veins still threaded with adrenaline. 

That was only a dream… right?

As soon as that thought is introduced to your worried mind, you throw off the covers before grabbing the nearest hoodie off the bed post. Tugging it over your head, your bare feet skid across the hardwood floor as you rush to the phone in the living room. 

Your fingers are trembling as you press the buttons of the number; you have to know if he’s okay. You have to confirm it was just a dream.

“Fuck, Steve,” You start to mutter to yourself, counting the rings to attempt to steady your breathing, “Come on, pick up, pick up.” 

The longer it takes, the more nervous you become. The darkness that surrounds you starts to close in, and when you squeeze your eyes shut, the image of him bloodied and lying dead in the dirt haunts you. 

“I swear to Christ - Dustin, if that’s you and those bozos again, I’ll come kick your ass myself,” Steve’s voice, tired and very irritated, comes through the speaker.

“Steve! Oh my god-” The back of your throat starts to burn at the feeling of tears welling up; the relief crashes over you in a wave, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“What? Jesus-” He pauses, his tone softens once he hears it’s you, “Why wouldn’t I be okay? It’s nearly-”

Steve stops again; you reckon it’s to glance at the time.

“Shit, sweetheart it’s nearly two in the morning, what’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, finally realizing that you must’ve awoken him, “Fuck I just-”

The phone is gripped tighter in your hands as you speak, “I really just needed to know that you're okay. It’s stupid, I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry-“

“No, no it’s okay-”

“But I-”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me,” Steve’s reassurance helps to slow your pounding heart; he’s okay. He’s safe at home. 

There’s nothing to worry about anymore.

You repeat that to yourself multiple times, whispering it to yourself under your breath. At this point, you think that you’d do anything to forget that night. 

Your back slides down the wall as your body grows exhausted from the severe reaction; Steve’s voice continues through the phone, “Did something happen?”

“I had-” You force a deep breath through your lungs, face scrunching in fear at the memory, “I had a really bad dream, Steve.”

Your arm wraps around your knees to pull them into your chest, forehead coming down to meet them and dig into the soft material of your pants, “I woke up and fuck, I was so scared. I was so scared and all I could think to do was call you. And I’m all alone. I’m all by myself tonight and I hate that I can’t be alone anymore. And I haven’t slept through the night in weeks-”

“Weeks? What do you mean weeks? I mean - I knew you weren’t sleeping well right after, but Christ it’s been nearly two months!”

You curse at yourself for rambling, words suddenly escaping your mind as you hesitate to respond. With your silence, Steve huffs; you can imagine the disappointment and worry over his face, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You bite down on your lip before answering, only letting up on the pressure when the taste of blood touches your tongue; you’re ashamed of the answer, “I don’t know… I’m sorry, Steve.”

All you feel is guilt in the moments that follow. Something like this… dreams about him dying in front of your eyes isn’t something that should be kept from him. 

“Hey,” Steve’s soft tone reels you back in, “You call me whenever you have to. I’ll always pick up, okay?”

You exhale as you nod, before remembering that he can’t see your reaction through the phone, “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, anytime. Are you okay?” 

You weave the phone cord between your fingers, “I’m better now. Uh, I’ll let you go then.”

“Okay. Try to get some rest, for my sake,” Steve pleads. You twist the cord tighter, “I will.” 

He sighs at your oath, finally able to relax a bit more, “Hey, we don’t have to do anything tonight, if it’s too much. Or if you’re tired… ” 

You hum at his words, head leaning back against the wall. A smile creeps over your lips at his consideration, wishing that you could thank him in person for his words, “No, no let’s do something. It’ll be good for me.” 

He laughs a bit; even with how horrible the quality might be through the receiver, it still makes your stomach flutter with butterflies, “Okay, good. I’ll see you tonight. Get some sleep.”

“I’ll try, Steve.”

After wishing him a good night, you place the phone back onto it’s base. Standing up on wobbly legs, a shaky exhale leaves your lungs when your fingers remove themselves from the smooth plastic. The image of him is still there when you blink.

Fuck - you should’ve told him.

—

Three taps against the window pane startle you awake. Rubbing your eyes as you sit up, you check the time - you were only able to finally fall asleep twenty minutes ago. Anxiety starts to creep over the back of your neck - until you see the culprit. 

“Jesus…” You mutter to yourself. You can’t help the small smile that erupts over your face at the sight of Steve, fingers nervously drumming on the window sill. His expression relaxes a bit once you come over, and you’re already rolling your eyes as you move to pull it open.

“You know that I’m the only one home, right?” 

Steve nods, not following your logic, “Yeah? And?”

“You could’ve just come to the door, Steve.”

The boy in front of you shifts at your words; his retort stutters as he tries to come up with an excuse, “Okay, alright. But you know, I didn’t want to scare you or anything!”

You step back to cross your arms over your chest, “And coming to my window while I sleep seems a whole lot better to you?”

“Alright whatever, Henderson,” He answers quickly, waving off your tone, “Will you just let me in already?”

You gesture for Steve to enter, laughing quietly to yourself as he does. As soon as he’s crawled his way through the opening, you latch and lock the window closed. He huffs, “You have no idea how thrilled I am that your house only has one floor.”

“Did you drive across the neighborhood just to scare me?” You ignore him, pulling the cord on the lamp by your bedside. The light illuminates the worry on his face.

“No, I just-” Steve pauses as he fiddles with his keys, “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. I had to know you were okay.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest once again, “Y-yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve’s brow raises at your deflection, “Um, did we not have the same conversation over the phone?”

“We did,” Your answer is laced with a bit of aggression, “You didn’t need to come all the way over here, okay? I’m fine now-”

“But are you?” Steve interrupts. His voice is genuine, soft, and you want to spill everything because he has that look in his eye; you’re not sure you can push him away forever.

“Of course, Steve-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Steve puts more force behind his words - it’s like a demand. He takes a few steps closer, “Please don’t lie to me.”

Hearing Steve plead with you like that makes your heart shatter. It’s killing him to watch you stand before him like this. He’s known you long enough to know when something’s not right, and he’s gotten especially good at reading you over the past few weeks. And by the way your jaw clenches, Steve knows you’re about to crack.

A shaky inhale comes through your lips; you have to tell him something. But how much?

“I just… I don’t want you to worry,” You mutter. Your voice is just above a whisper, although it doesn’t matter; it’s not like there’s anyone home to overhear. You’re scared to admit there’s something wrong. He shouldn’t have to do this for you.

Steve almost laughs. He runs his free hand through his hair, “It’s like, a year too late for that, you know.” 

You sigh, realizing that he’s absolutely right. Of course he should worry, especially with how vague the conversation over the phone was. Letting him in is something that you’ll have to get used to.

Even though you’d been friends for a while, it was always more about him than you. You always wanted to be there for him, if he ever needed anything, how he was doing. It’s something neither of you understood was happening until your relationship became more; it was no one’s fault. 

All of a sudden, Steve realized just how much you’ve done for him - he’s wanted to return the favor. And this… is all new to you; you’re not used to someone checking in. 

“Oh god, you’re right,” You mumble under your breath. Your hands come up to cover your eyes in shame as you continue, “I’m sorry, Steve. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

Witnessing your sudden change in mood, Steve moves towards you; he sets his keys down on your nightstand as he does. He goes to reach for you, pulling your body into his, “Hey hey, it’s okay, it’s fine.”

He wishes he could come up with something better to say. You’ve always been better with words than him. You’re better at a lot of things than him. But he’s trying - he’s trying to be better to be worthy of you.

Your arms wrap tightly around him once Steve’s pressed against you. He smells like freshly washed cotton, like pulling sheets from the dryer when they’re still warm.

It’s all so overwhelming, it makes you want to cry. You feel like you should, but the familiar burn behind your eyes never comes. Instead, you resume speaking.

“I guess I just…” You trail off, wanting to give him a reason - he deserves one.

Your fist knots the fabric of his tee; Steve’s palm slides up over your back, “I’m just not used to leaning on others for help. I’m trying to get used to it.”

“Sometimes it’s okay,” Steve’s reply is muffled by your hair. He ponders what to add, lips pressed into a firm line as he thinks, “Sometimes you gotta do stuff on your own and sometimes you need somebody else. That’s just how life works.”

Your chest heaves as you sigh at the weight of his words, this moment cements a single fact inside your brain - you won’t plan on hiding anything from him.

Well, except for that one thing. You’re still not ready to admit that to him yet. 

You wish that pulling away didn’t mean losing his warmth; but his gentle eyes meeting yours mimics a feeling like it that fills your chest. 

“You can lean on me, you know,” Steve says, and the smile that was already pulling at your lips widens even farther. And then he nudges you - his mouth curls into that stupid smirk of his, “However you want.”

You crack a laugh, accompanied by a roll of your eyes, “Yes, I know. Sometimes I just need a little reminder."

Suddenly, you remember just how lucky you are to have him. How fortunate you are to have him there to brighten your darkest moments, even if he’s sometimes battling his own demons at the same time. 

“Thank you,” You say, bringing your gaze back to meet Steve’s again. He nods slightly, tone genuine and soft as he answers, “Of course. Anytime.”

The pads of your fingers graze over his cheekbone before tucking a strand of brunette hair behind his ear; Steve shivers a bit at the gentle touch before you meet his lips in a kiss.

He still gets a bit nervous each time, only because this feels so much more different than the others. The level of comfort and security he feels when you’re in the room was never there before he met you. Like really met you.

And you - well, you’re still so overwhelmed that you finally, after all that time, get to be with the one you love - you feel like you could jump out of your skin with joy. You’ve treasured every single moment, because it’s never been lost on you how it all could be taken away in an instant.

The brilliant grin you two share after pulling away shakes it all from your mind. Your fingers move to grip his hands in yours; you just like being able to do it, even if it is in the privacy of your own bedroom.

But then that feeling settles in your stomach, the one that doesn’t go away until morning. The dread that something’s going to happen. Steve can sense your growing anxiety - it’s almost like the air surrounding you changes. Leaving you now, something about that doesn’t sit right with him.

“I’ll uh, stay if you want.”

He mentions the idea quietly because, well, you’re not officially together. But to be fair, he hasn’t asked - but neither have you. Even though your hands are still in his, pressing into his skin, Steve finds it important to ask and make sure you’re on the same page.

You can’t lie - the idea of Steve spending the night makes you a little nervous. Although, knowing that you’re safe with each other might just be the push you need to relax. And with that thought, you’re stepping away from him, “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

The doorknob is so cold against your skin as you exit to grab an extra pillow from the closet in the hallway. The darkness of the living room seems to go on forever; it almost feels like something’s creeping up your neck once your back is turned to it.

After quickly shutting the door once you’re back inside, you turn around to see Steve, perched silently on top of your comforter - his presence warms the entire room, bringing life and love into it.

He hasn’t spent that much time in this space; he’s trying to take everything in, because it’s very reflective of you. There are neat piles of VHS tapes and comics on top of the dresser, a closet dominated with dark colors and sneakers, and some of your well worn denim tossed over the desk chair.

But his eye catches on a stack of photographs on the desk’s surface, and he’s halfway across the room before you can interject. You clutch the pillow a little tighter to your chest as Steve flips through them, laughing at one of you and Dustin from a few years ago at Christmas wearing matching pajamas.

He spins to show it to you, “I’m never gonna let him live this down.”

You approach his side when he finds another one of you as a child, playing with a cake battered spatula in your previous house. Baby curls framed your face, and your eyes were wide with adventure and wonder, “Holy shit, look at you!”

“I don’t know why I remember that day so much,” You mutter.

Steve’s silence pushes you to continue, “It was Mom’s birthday, and my grandparents baked her a cake - double chocolate I think. I wasn’t tall enough to reach but I wanted to help so badly. So they sat me on top of the counter and let me mix everything. They even let me tell her that I made it.”

You laugh quietly before the memory turns cold in your mind, and your wistful smile turns to a slight frown, “I haven’t seen them since we moved here.”

Steve isn’t even looking at the picture anymore. He listened to every word that left your mouth; you don’t speak much about the rest of your family. Instead of trying to probe further, he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, a gentle and silent reminder of his support.

This feels strange. Opening up to him like that, making yourself that vulnerable - that’s a level of intimacy you haven’t explored quite yet. At least not with him… or anyone really.

Thankfully, it hasn’t seemed to scare him off. If anything, Steve’s more relaxed. He likes knowing how you feel.

Steve flips through the others while you rest your chin on his shoulder, your eyes intently watch his reaction to each one - you think you could stay in this moment forever.

And then he comes across one - an image of you and the kids on Halloween a few years back all dressed like Jedi. He pauses on it, “When do you think we should tell them?”

A sharp inhale comes through your nostrils at his comment; you hadn’t thought about that.

In all your bliss, you had completely forgotten - no one else knows. Not even your brother.

“Oh God, Steve-” You start, removing yourself from him, “I don’t even know how we would do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve replies, turning back to meet your gaze, “We just… tell them. It’s not rocket science.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you answer, clenching the pillow a bit tighter in your grasp, “It’s really not that simple with them, Steve. You know that. And honestly, I still feel like I’m trying to figure out how to do all this.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, knowing just how messy involving the kids could make your relationship, “I’ve kinda liked it just being about us. You know, we’re together because we wanna be, it’s not for anyone else. And trust me, they’ll have so many opinions-”

“So let’s keep it to ourselves then,” Steve interjects, shrugging his shoulders a bit as he answers, “We’ll tell ‘em when we think it’s right, when we’re sure if this is serious or not.”

You hated keeping your feelings for him a secret. You hated that you were never able to tell him, but this is different. The idea sends a rush of excitement through your veins, you can’t deny it.

He smiles a bit and sets the photos down before continuing, “I know it might be too early to tell, but I feel like this could last, you know.”

You feel blood rise into your cheeks when he looks at you like that - irises filled to the brim with admiration. His hands come up to cup your face as you reply, “Me too.”

Steve leans in to drink a slow kiss from your lips, the kind that leaves you breathless when it’s over.

“Good,” He mutters, earning a small grin from you. Steve takes the pillow out of your grasp, “What do you say we try and get a couple hours of sleep in? I guess Dustin wants to go to the arcade before lunch.”

You laugh, pushing your hair back away from your face as you answer, “I will never be able to get used to that, I’m sorry.”

Steve tosses the pillow onto the empty spot on the mattress while you pull back the comforter. The bed dips as you both settle under the covers; Steve’s arm starts to slide over your waist before stopping abruptly, “Is this okay?”

You clear your throat, “Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

The darkness washes over the room after you pull the cord to the lamp; it doesn’t feel as scary with Steve lying behind you. His touch stops your mind from wandering as it so often does - it can’t concoct anything to torment you with.

That being said, the sight from the earlier nightmare does appear behind your eyelids when you blink.

“It was about you,” You mutter, “The dream.”

It’s spoken before you can stop yourself. You instantly regret it, due to the lack of a reply that follows.

But then Steve tugs you closer, and you feel like you could melt against him. He tucks his nose right underneath the base of your hairline, deeply inhaling as you relax into him.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your skin; your fingers curl around his as a quiet thank you.

Steve thinks that this is probably what home is supposed to feel like - warm clothes, the scent of your shampoo, a comfortable silence to lull you both to sleep. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more comfortable.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, the pair of you have finally found a bit of peace.

—

taglist: @stevebabey / @mrsukai / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing​ / @mikariell95​ / @pilunb​ / @harringtherin​ / @royalestrellas​ / @ultrunning​ / @buggs177 / @poutfull​ / @yoheyyosup​ / @duchessdaisybat​ / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury​ / @beththebubbly​ / @i-bitch-you-bitch​ / @captainstilinskis​ / @juliebean247​ / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender​ / @rexorangecouny​ / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior​ / @jointhehunt67 / @wallacetdog​ / @ketchuplukehemmo​ / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x​ / @elite4cekalyma​ / @marjoherbo​ / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass​ / @alafolieee​ / @mochminnie​ / @phantomalchemist​ / @dustyblueboo​ / @alonewolfsblog​ / @ggclarissa​ / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​ / @bippityboppitybabe​ / @readinthegarden12​ / @bakugouishusbando

if you wanna be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

[pasmy]

Feminist Shirt

DESCRIPTION

SHIPPING & MANUFACTURING INFO

Feminist Shirt

As someone who usually doesn’t get gifts and has a hard time getting and Feminist Shirt receiving them and finding what I want, it helps when there’s is secret santa stuff. So I helped out by participating and got picked to give a gift to this nice girl I knew. On the day of gift giving, as it was a surprise, I tapped her on the shoulder as she turned around, putting the gift in her hand in a smooth motion. It was one of the things on her wish list. Stunned in a good way, she said “thank you!” After saying my name. A minute later, a person I didn’t know as well, gave me a gift. I’ve never really celebrated it outside my family, and didn’t think I would get one. It was neat, and a very nice surprise, as we didn’t associate much with each other. I thanked her, and then again more than twenty minutes later as class ended. But the kicker: it was lunch time, and I was going to the bathroom, as per usual. Then this other person I know, a lot better, and am better pals with but don’t always get to hang out, but find much in common, called me over. I waited patiently to see what it was all about. We never really hung out at lunch, and last time she had asked me a question, so I had answered her. Our relationship wasn’t bad.

buy it now:        .Feminist Shirt

Thanksgiving Nurse Shirt

Torn between looking like a snack and cat in one Christmas shirt

Dabbing due to inflation this is my Christmas pajama sweater

Torn between looking like a snack and cat in one Christmas shirt

May The Force Be With You Christmas Tree T Shirt

Nasa T Shirt Meatball Logo We Need You Astronaut Adult

Homepage: limotees    jeeppremium  telotee

Gearbloom is your one-stop online shop for printed t-shirts, hoodies, phone cases, stickers, posters, mugs, and more…High quality original T-shirts. Digital printing in the USA.

Worldwide shipping. No Minimums. 1000s of Unique Designs. Worldwide shipping. Fast Delivery. 100% Quality Guarantee. to cover all your needs.

By contacting directly with suppliers, we are dedicated to provide you with the latest fashion with fair price.We redefine trends, design excellence and bring exceptional quality to satisfy the needs of every aspiring fashionista.

WHAT IS OUR MISSION?

Gearbloom is established with a clear vision: to provide the very latest products with compelling designs, exceptional value and superb customer service for everyone.

We offer a select choice of millions of Unique Designs for T-shirts, Hoodies, Mugs, Posters and more to cover all your needs.

WHY SHOP WITH US?

Why do customers come to

Well we think there are a few reasons:

BEST PRICING

Fashion field involves the best minds to carefully craft the design. The t-shirt industry is a very competitive field and involves many risks. The cost per t-shirt varies proportionally to the total quantity of t-shirts. We are manufacturing exceptional-quality t-shirts at a very competitive price.

PRINT QUALITY DIFFERENCE

We use only the best DTG printers available to produce the finest-quality images possible that won’t wash out of the shirts.

DELIVERY IS VERY FAST

Estimated shipping times:

United States : 1-5 business days

Canada : 3-7 business days

International : from 1-2 weeks depending on proximity to Detroit, MI.

CUSTOM AND PERSONALIZED ORDERS

Custom orders are always welcome. We can customize all of our designs to your needs! Please feel free to contact us if you have any questions.

PAYMENT DO WE ACCEPT?

We currently accept the following forms of payment:

Credit Or Debit Cards: We accept Visa, Mastercard, American Express, Discover, Diners Club, JCB, Union Pay and Apple Pay from customers worldwide.

PayPal: PayPal allows members to have a personal account linked to any bank account or credit card for easy payment at checkout.

tag:humor, humor, holidays, retro, christmas, funny, santa claus, santa, xmas, Silly, vest, ugly sweater, chrismas, ugly sweater party, sweater vest, holiday, christmas, Humor, humorous, sweater, xmas, christmas humor, funny Christmas, wisconsin, packers, ugly sweater, holiday, christmas, beer, continents, santa, xmas, love, keep christmas with you, sweeter, i heart santa, christian, chrismas, christmas, heart, santa claus, santa, religion, filthy, animal, ugly, chrismas, sweater, christmas, griswold, ugly christmas, ugly xmas, xmas 

[liquid-luck-00]

Habits

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 4: Habits

@biodad-bruce-month

First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

The bat boys went out of their way to make Marinette feel included into the family. However she seemed to always get lost in the manor. Little did they know that she was using the horse miraculous to travel to and from Paris and still hasn't had enough practice with Kaalki.

Yet when they do happen to find her she seems to always be lost in thought while sketching or designing.

They had noticed early on that they could still hold a conversation with her and she would respond and remember the conversation.

---

Marinette hadn't been at the manor for two days when the first incident occurred.

It was Jason who first caught her completely focused and to say it was a shock was an understatement. He had walked into the living room, trying to find her and Tim to play Mecha strike, so when he saw she was designing and Tim was sitting on the other couch reading.

"Hey Replacement, Bluebell who wants to play UMS III?" Jason asked the room.

"I'll play," Tim responded looking up from his book. Both boys then looked at Mari, who seemingly didn't hear them. Tim got up and walked over to her along with him. While

Marinette seemed to be hyper focused on her design that she didn't respond when Jason asked her again. So Jason decided it would be smart to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. That was a bad idea. . He had snapped her out of her thoughts, but as he did she glared at them.

"Holy Fuck" Jason screamed as he backed away from her.

"What is wrong with you. You break my concentration and then scream. Like seriously Jason." She was holding her head covering her ears while glaring at him.

That was when Tim seemed to find his voice again. "Well if genetics hadn't proved you were Bruce's daughter, you giving Jason his signature glare would prove it."

"Well I guess that explains a few thing now" she hummed.

"That is all you get out of this?" Jason asks.

"What else was to get out of this?" she asked tilting her head, "so what did you guys want anyways?" she went back to her sunny personality.

---

The second incident occurred later that same day but with only Dick. He had gone to find her for dinner, so he went to her room. He had heard from both Jason and Tim that she could pull out the Bruce 'Batman' Glare so he did the smart choice of first knocking on the door.

"Come in" was her only response.

She was sitting at the desk staring at one of her sketchbooks. Her chin was resting on her arm her nose was scrunched and eyebrows furrowed concentrating on the image in front of her.

It wasn't the Batman Glare but she looked just like Bruce when he was in deep concentration.

"Dinner is almost ready" he answered after entering the room.

"Dick thank goodness" She snapped her head up and looked at him with her full attention. "I can’t decide on a color for this blazer. It would look nice in an emerald or in a sapphire blue. I know I want to use gold as an accent around the main part that is black stitched with holographic music notes but I don't know maybe"

"Mari" he interrupted her. God she even over thinks like Bruce, that was why he had stopped her. "Breathe please. Now is this for a certain person or no one in particular?" He asked breaking her slight panic.

"It is for a commission so a certain person." she answered calming down.

"So would the person's hair or eyes clash with those colors" Thank god Barbara always dragged him shopping and complains how certain colors clashed with her hair.

"Neither would clash necessarily, but the sapphire blue would complement his hair and skin tone better" she finished writing something in on the page.

"Okay now that, that is settled why don't we go down for dinner Little B" Dick gave her a smile.

"Little B?"

"Little Bruce" be elaborated, really be meant little bat, but she doesn't know that yet so he improvised.

"Why?"

"The way you scrunch your nose and eyebrows when concentrating is just like him. That and completely overthinking and over analyzing things is just like him"

"It's a habit I've been trying to break" she answers sheepishly.

"Don't, just ask yourself questions to not get sided tracked, it is one of the best qualities a person can have" he answered honestly. "God only knows Bruce wouldn't come up with half of what makes up WE if he didn't overanalyze every little thing" she seemed to cheer up a bit at this and he is glad he could help his little sister.

---

The third incident happened with Tim to say he was surprised when he saw her awake in the kitchen at 3 in the morning as he came back from patrol was shocking.

Honestly the only people awake at that hour were either the Bats, criminals, or him well him or even Bruce who would still be working. But here she is completely awake making, wait is that.

"Is that coffee?" He ended up asking out loud.

She turned to face him "Yes. Want some?"

"Please!!" he practically begged.

"Fair warning this is my special blend, I haven't found anyone else who could handle it" she warned him, but he took it as a challenge.

"Try me" and she did, she set a cup down in front of him and also poured herself one. After the first sip he realized it was strong, much stronger than his usual, and that usually had an entire cup of espresso. "That is good. You are making this again if you don't give me the recipe" she giggled.

"Let's see if you can handle a cup and make it to breakfast." she countered and she left to her room.

When morning came he was still wired in fact he was practically bouncing in his seat while having breakfast and everyone was staring at him. Granted he was usually a zombie in the morning so this was new, actually functioning properly that is.

"You okay there Timmy" Dick asked him, and that was confusing.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" Tim asked.

"Now your beginning to scare us. Wait did you actually sleep, Replacement?" Jason asked him.

"I don't think he did Jason" everyone turned and stared at Marinette. "Half a cup" she said staring at him.

"Care to explain Bluebell." 

"So turns out I'm not the only one awake late. Someone" she stared at Tim, "caught me making coffee last night, drank a single cup and still seems to be wired" she shrugged "so half a cup next time Tim"

"Wait, he is the most awake he has ever been in the, almost six years I've known him, and he hasn't slept." Damian stated bored. "what did you put in the coffee?"

"Nothing much, but if you know how to roast the beans right anything is possible" she rose the mug she was holding. That was when they all noticed the mug in her hand.

Out of concern, he is guessing, Dick and Jason moved to take the mug from her. They turned around to face each other with a smirk and they saw that they were both holding identical mugs to the one in, wait Marinette still has a mug.

"Enjoy the cocoa" she smiled as she took a sip from her cup.

"You really are Bruce's daughter if you can pull that with little to no sleep." Tim replied. Her only response was a head tilt. "I swear not sleeping and still being able to function absurdly well is genetic. You, Damian, and Bruce are alike in that."

---

The fourth incident happened and was witnessed by Damian. He was sure that he would be able to have the gym to himself as everyone was out on patrol but he was mistaken.

There was Marinette a headset on, with her hands wrapped moving between punching a bag and a sequence of movements. He watched her until she seemed to finish her set. She looked up and when she noticed him he walked towards her. She wasn't being her usual bubbly self, in fact it looked to him that she was upset.

"I didn't think anyone else would be in here" he stated."

"Oh, really" she answered lowering her headset ”I won't be a bother and did you want to take the punching bag." she said a slight frown on her lips. Okay he may not be the best at dealing with emotions, but he was extremely good at perceiving them on others.

"Something is bothering you, isn't it?" he was blunt sure but he wasn't expecting her to freeze and look around before taking a breath and schooling her features.

"No, everything is fine"

"It. As if I would believe that"

"Really now why don't..."

"Either you talk or we spar" he cut her off. He was expecting her to speak not take off her headset completely, set it down, and take a stance. The two began to spar and after almost two hours they were both lying on the mat exhausted.

"Thanks Damian, I needed a good spar"

"Any time you need, ask" he got up and began walking back to his room.

If he didn't already know she was a Wayne then that would prove it. Only a Wayne would rather not face their emotions and would rather fight.

His sister was his and he would be damned if he didn't at least help her. Albeit it he wasn't the most mushy of the family but she already was the most bearable of his sibling. Maybe he'll teach her to sword fight, then maybe someone would be an actual challenge for him.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky @tazanna-blythe @tired-butterfly @lozzybowe @smolplantmum @queencommonsense @loopingtangent @chez-pezeater @paintedhope7 @technicallyburninggarden

[seeyounexttime]

As you may know, Black Clover is having an online exhibition. If you look at it here (has to be on mobile though) you see 0/20 and 0% in the corner. I saw the screenshots that some people shared also have zeroes and wondered... After some clicking around and struggling with Japanese, I’ve gotten a full score :D

So for those who want to know what to do, or can’t see the exhibition yourself for whatever reason, I’ve made a walkthrough that’s what it’s called right?

First, you’re asked to please turn on the sound and enjoy. There’s an ON and OFF option

Devil Possessed Work Is On Display. DEVILS AND ~THE DON’T GIVE UP MAGICAL EXHIBIT~ Black Clover 6th Year Anniversary Celebration

The Spade Kingdom’s evil devil hosts have set their hands on Black Clover’s online exhibition, the “Don’t Give Up Magical Exhibit”, from the 5th year anniversary celebration!? Only the “devil-possessed works” were shining a suspicious light in the transformed exhibition hall.

[yellow/gold box] To the Devils and Don’t Give Up Magical Exhibit >>

Asta has newly awakened devil power!? -- Together with the devil Liebe, get power to confront the invasion of the Spade Kingdom, including the Dark Triad!

[white/silver box] To the Don’t Give Up Magical Exhibit >>

Complete Revival of the “Won’t Give Up Magical Exhibit”!? -- Because of the Spade Kingdom’s invasion, the “Don’t Give Up Magical Exhibit” has ended up in miserable condition, but Nero’s sealing magic has succeeded in completely returning it to the way it used to be! Let’s dive into the work and explore Asta and friend’s “won’t give up magic”

I recommend starting with the previous year’s exhibit, so flip your phone to the side and click the white box with Nero on the corner..~

A little tutorial: you can click in the picture frames, swipe, and pinch the screen. Nero says “I’ll tell you if you get lost. Don’t worry.”

“Not giving up magic” isn’t only Asta’s magic.

Everyone who supported Black Clover will surely have the power of “not giving up magic.” Now, with your magic power, let’s dive into the world of Black Clover’s story.

PROMISE -- 約束 (yakusoku) -- The source of the power of Asta’s “not giving up magic” was a “promise” with his rival, who pursues the dream that they can never give up on, called “to become the Wizard King.”

Nero says “Tap the framed picture.”

This causes a little manga movie to play - about Asta and Yuno of course. Their promise, words exchanged at the dungeon, that time they saved Hage, and times they fought side by side in the Elf Arc are shown. When it comes to an end, it displays this manga spread:

Nero says “Tap the demon’s bones...”

This plays a manga movie about Licht’s and Lumiere’s tragic battle...

Nero says “Tap the icon on the upper left to return to the original world.”

You’ll be taken back the Promise screen and should now have 1/20 at the bottom corner

PRIDE -- 誇り (hokori) -- Magic Knight Squads that protect the world with magical power. The Wizard King with the magic knight captains whom he brings together. It is that “pride” built up due to their overwhelming achievements that is the source of power.

Again, tap the framed pictures. A slideshow of their most prominent moments (before the timeskip) play. At the end is a panel of their most impressive spell at least that’s what I think they were trying to do here?

Nero says “You want to know more about your comrades right”

Tap the yellow button next to her (it says “see details+”). This pops up:

At the top is their type of magic. Then a short description about them. The rest is mostly stats that were already in their manga profile’s + a little extra. In order it’s: {their name ☘, age, height, birthday, sign, blood type, favorite thing, birthplace, and rank}

Yami’s birthplace is the Land of the Sun; Dorothy’s is the Witch’s Forest; Jack’s is in the Common Realm; everyone else was born in the Noble Realm

COMPLEX -- 劣等感 (rettoukan) -- A person who can deal with their “inferiority complex” is also a blessed person who has the chance to become stronger than anyone else.

*note: the kanji specifically refers to “inferiority complex”

A manga movie about her struggles with magic plays, then switches to this:

Nero says “Pinch out and move forward.”

As you “zoom in” panels of Noelle’s development with spells, from Sea Dragon’s Lair to Valkyrie Dress, rotate around, ending with:

“I... won....!!”

FRIENDSHIP -- 絆 (kizuna) -- For their precious friends, sometimes a person can even go as far as surpassing their limits. A magic blow vested with the “bonds” of friends has defeated any despair.

*note: the kanji means “bonds (between people)”

Nero says “If you look at all the framed pictures of bonds…”

When you click on each framed picture, you get panels like in the Complex section but these one’s don’t rotate

It focuses on an important fight for each Black Bull, I think one that emphasizes their bonds with someone and/or teamwork. Magna & Luck share framed pictures; Gauche, Gordon, Grey and Henry share another. Usually at the end you see the kanji for their magic attribute (Charmy’s ends with “food magic”)

Like with the captains, there’s also a panel of them looking impressive. Again, Nero says “You want to learn more about your friends right.”

At the top is their name, description about them, then Profile ☘ and stats in the same order as the captain’s in the Pride section. I want to note that Charmy’s birthplace is literally “?”

But Before You Finish Looking At All The Frames-!! swipe left and take a look 👀

Try to tap this~  Nero says “If you look at all the framed pictures, there will be something good.”

After you watch the 8th one, you’ll find that the middle frame has lit up

“Tap the framed picture” Nero says. A manga movie about the Black Bulls plays, showing their good and awesome times, then ending in the group shot of when they busted in during Asta’s and Nero’s trial --but wait!! there’s more!!!

We’re moving left-?! Omg SECRE-!??

“Well done, you undid the seal.”

“I will undo the seal with my magic.”

Sealing Magic

Inverse Release

LOVE -- 愛 (ai) -- The magic of Black Clover has been sustained by the “love” of everyone who continuously supported all the characters, including Asta and Yuno, and this story. Thank you very much for so much “love.”

That’s right: you just unlocked Love :’)

Tapping it opens up a high-quality image that you can download for yourself.

Nero says “It’s a commemorative wallpaper. It’s yours.”

☘ Instant Posting Magic ☘ Let’s share with everyone that we came to play Black Clover’s 5th anniversary project “Never Giving Up Magic” 📖 Use Instant Posting Magic

Tapping that opens up twitter. Nero says “Post in celebration.”

--but wait! there’s even more!! swipe one more time 👀

Zenon, what are you doing here? staring at a framed picture of the Heart Kingdom... Tap it, Nero says

oh shit

a preview of volume 25 plays

Click Here For Part 2~! ☠ 

※✧※

*Disclaimer: The exhibit used 諦めない魔法 (akiramenai mahou). Akiramenai is the negative form of the verb akirameru "to give up" and mahou is "magic." It's definitely a reference to Asta's "my magic is never giving up" line, and I guess it could be translated as "magic that doesn't give up" but doesn't that make it sound like he has magic? This becomes more of an issue when they begin to apply it to others beside Asta... So yeah, sorry that sounds awkward. Also depending on context and because I got tired of repeating the same phrase I changed the form from "don't give up" to "not giving up" and others.

I was using google translate quite a bit, after I looked up kanji by parts because I couldn't copy-paste the pictures (it was decent practice; I think I can totally identify the word "not giving up" now). This isn't an official release, but I did try to clean things up to at least sound coherent and give you a better idea of what's going on.