#he is the definition of boyishly handsome

[hersweetrevenge]

rohan campbell as frank hardy (1x01)

bonus:

✨ scrunkly ✨

[sanguineterrain]

Hello sanne! I have a request, if it inspires you: what about reader who's been hurt and has amnesia when they wake up. And Jason is there and reader gets all flustered because pretty boy alert!! Pretty boy is speaking gently to them!! And in actuality Jason and reader are together. I hope that made sense 😭 love your writing so so much!!

this is such a sweet request!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw medical setting, reader is on pain meds and has been in an accident, major major fluff, established relationship.

****

The first thing you notice is that your mouth tastes... not good.

You try to swallow and clear out the taste. All that happens is a useless smack of your tongue. Your throat is too dry for any swallowing to happen.

"...been out for about twelve hours. Yeah, I've been here the whole time."

You're pretty sure that you know that voice. You're drawing a blank on that voice's name, but you swear you know the voice.

"They're awake. Yeah, bye."

It's deep and warm and soft and yes. You definitely know the voice.

Okay. Opening your eyes.

You do so with substantial effort. Your vision is bleary. All you can make out are blobs of gray. You've got a lot of eye boogies in your eyes. You can feel them.

But you're not really sure about where your hands are at this moment in time, so the eye boogies will have to camp out for a little longer.

"Hey." The bed shifts. That warm voice gets closer. "Hey, hey. Y'thirsty?"

A straw taps your lips. You clumsily take it and drink until it gurgles and there's no more water.

"Yeah, I'll bet you're thirsty. Want more?"

You shake your head. A cool, rough hand pets your forehead. Oh, that's nice. That's very nice. The bedside manner in this hospital is impeccable. A little forward, but you don't mind. The voice and his hand are both very polite.

Time to try to actually see some shit. You hone in on your vision, putting every iota of brainpower into processing what your eyes are telling your brain.

A figure. A man. Huzzah!

Oh. Oh, wow. A very beautiful man. A big, hulking, beautiful man.

He's young, boyishly handsome. His eyes are bright. A scar is etched from the top of his right temple to his lip. There's a white streak in his dark hair. Is that a trend now? You can't remember.

"Where 'm I?" you ask.

"You're in the Batcave. How much do you remember, honey?" the gorgeous, beautiful, dreamboat nurse asks.

Well, you remember being in a car, and then being ejected from that car, and then hot, blinding pain, and then... waking up.

"Car accident?" you manage.

Pretty Nurse nods. Is he a nurse? He looks more like a biker, with his leather jacket and empty holsters. He looks like he could pin you down with one arm and—

Whoa. Chill.

"Yeah, kinda. There was an explosion. You hit your head pretty hard." He strokes the back of your head, frowning. "How do you feel?"

You feel like your head has an anvil tied to it. But it's okay, because look at this biker-nurse! Wowza!

He takes your hand (you have hands! Huzzah!) and strokes your knuckles with his thumb, which is fine, actually, because he has really nice eyes. You want to tell him.

"You h've nice eyes," you say.

Pretty Nurse blinks, looking startled. His cheeks go a little pink. "Oh. Um, thanks, baby. Y'sweet."

Baby? Do you really have that much rizz as a medical patient? You can't imagine how irresistible you must be when you haven't been in an explosion.

But then everything shatters when you look down and see a silver band on his hand. What the shit! He's married? Or engaged, at least. Son of a biscuit.

And he's flirting with you? What a pig!

You snatch your hand back, suddenly sour. Pretty Nurse raises his eyebrows.

"What's a'matter?"

"You have a ring," you say, voice dripping in contempt.

"I—" He looks down. "Uh, well, yeah. I do."

Devastating. "If you're taken, you shouldn't be flirting with me, jerk."

He squints. "Wh—oh. Oh. Huh."

Pretty Biker Nurse looks like you've just said something funny. You don't see what's so funny about infidelity. May God strike him down!

He smiles coyly. "D'you know who I am, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you say, glowering. "Y'just a no-good philanderer who should be ashamed of hi'self. Don't care how handsome you are; I won't enter your web of lies!"

He laughs, bright and sweet. Damn him! You need a different nurse. This one is the epitome of temptation.

"Oh, baby. Oh, you're too cute. Can I take your hand?"

"Not if you're gonna flirt more," you say, lifting your chin. "Dirtbag."

"Your moral code is incredible, honey. Good to know I'll never have anything to worry about, though I never doubted you. Can I show you something, though?"

He lifts your hand and on your finger is a gold band. More delicately shaped than his ring, but similar.

"Oh my God," you say, panic growing. "I'm cheating on my husband."

He laughs louder this time. "Your fiancé, actually. Wedding isn't till August. And no, honeylove. You're not cheatin', 'cause I'm right here."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. Your hackles raise for a moment until... wait...

"You're my fiancé?" you ask, eyes huge.

He smiles shyly. "In the flesh. Y'remember my name?"

You feel like it's a J name. "J..."

"Jason," he says gently. "Yeah, wow. They got you on some pretty strong meds, huh? Leslie said you should start to remember more stuff in a day."

Jason. Pretty Biker Nurse Jason. Holy moly. He's engaged to you? About to marry you?

"You are so pretty," you blurt.

That makes Jason more shy. He smiles like he's done something he's not supposed to do. "Not as pretty as you, honey pie."

"No, you're... I mean, wow. Sorry I called you a jerk. How did I get with you? That's crazy. You're fine as hell."

Jason snorts, wide shoulders shaking. His cheeks are red. "Jesus, you're shameless."

Well, yeah. You're still not sure this isn't a dream. You have to let your fiancé know exactly what you think about him.

You prepare to tell him something smooth and romantic. Something about how kissable he looks.

"Y'look like a sexy biker."

Hm. Not exactly what you had in mind. Your brain feels like a blue raspberry slushie.

Jason grins. "Oh, yeah? That why you been starin' at me? Didn't know you had a thing for bikers. You're terrified of going on my motorcycle."

How does he know that? It's true; you like bikers from afar but you're not about to get on a death machine, thanks.

"You can rev my engine," you say, head slumping against the pillow.

"Oh my God," Jason says, clearly delighted. "Don't think I've ever seen this reaction to pain meds."

"Can't believe we're engaged," you say again. "How'd we even meet?"

"Well, I'm a vigilante of sorts, and the first time we met was after I saved you from a mugging. And then we kinda just... kept running into each other. You bought me coffee without realizing who I was. And we, uh, fell in love. As people do."

"You proposed to me in Spain," you say suddenly, the memory rushing back. "You... you wanted to prove you wouldn't put work above us."

Jason nods, lacing your and his fingers together. "Yeah, that's right. Three weeks in Spain." He pulls out his phone and shows you the lockscreen. It's of you two. Jason has sunglasses on. You're smiling. You can't remember ever smiling like that before.

Tears suddenly spring to your eyes, emotion smacking into you like an eighteen-wheeler. Jason leans in, concerned.

"Baby? Hey, what's wrong? Something hurts?" he asks, inspecting your head.

Your mouth quivers. "You... you love me so much."

Jason stops, tilting his head. "I... uh, yeah. 'Course I do. You're the person I love the most in the world."

That makes you cry, tears running down your cheeks. Jason's eyes widen in alarm.

"Sweetheart? What's—hey, it's okay. Why're y'crying, huh?"

He brushes your tears away with his thumbs, cradling your face. You sniffle.

"I'm s-sorry I called you a dirtbag," you blubber. "Y'not a dirtbag. You love me so much."

"Oh-ho, oh, honey. Baby, you've been unconscious for twelve hours. You're under heavy medication. I know you didn't recognize me, it's okay. Trust me, I've been called far worse," Jason says tenderly.

Dear God, you're a beast. What kind of person doesn't recognize their own fiancé?! You cry harder.

"I should've remembered you! I'm a bad fiancé," you wail.

"Aw, sweetheart. No, no, it's okay. C'mere."

Jason scoots you over slightly and pulls you into his arms. You cry into his shoulder, slobbering all over his sexy biker jacket. He rubs circles on your back.

"You're really cute and nice and I'm glad y'marrying me," you say, muffled in his shoulder.

Jason hums, the sound vibrating through you. "I'm really happy to be marrying you, sweetheart. You rock my world."

You sniff. "Really?"

"Mmhm." Jason kisses the side of your neck. "How 'bout you sleep a little more, hm? I bet you're exhausted."

Now that he mentions it, you do feel pretty worn-out. Especially after crying. And almost getting blown up.

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Absolutely, honey. I swear."

Jason eases you onto your back. Your eyes are beginning to feel heavy.

"Sleep, beautiful. I'm right here."

[frasier-crane-style]

Twisters

Not much to say about this. The original was a definitive three-star movie, and this one doesn't really go up or down. It's maybe half a star worse because the effects are ironically less convincingly; in the original, they drove through a real house! Here, while the CGI may be better, it's clear that's pretty much all they're doing. It'd be nice to see something beyond rain machines and greenscreen.

It's also a prime example of Everyone Is Perfect And Nobody's Horny. Bill Paxton in the original might've been handsome, but he wasn't a zero-percent-body-fat heartthrob. Here, as in the Roadhouse reboot, every single character from hero to villain to sidekicks looks like the lead of a CW show. It just goes to show we're really cooked as far as character actors go. Twister Singular had Alan Ruck and Philip Seymour Hoffman as eccentric storm chasers. Twister Plural has sexpot Katy O'Brian.

But hey, she has boyishly short hair! There's no way she's conventionally attractive!

There's another girl who smiles in a way that makes it seem like she doesn't have teeth, but that's it. She really does have teeth (perfectly white and straight, natch). But they talk with Southern accents and say 'woo!' a lot, so I guess they really are a ragtag bunch of misfits.

And Roadhouse Rebooted at least had an actual romance. This movie has the oddest love story where they go through all the motions of a romance--he teases her, she teases him, they start spending time together, gazing fondly at each other, saving each other's lives, climaxing in Glen Powell running through an airport to stop Tornado Lady (she has one of those British names with extra surnames) before she can get on her plane... so he can stare warmly into her eyes.

What is this, are the gays getting revenge for queerbaiting? Because they know that's all in their heads, right? Hollywood just sometimes makes movies about two guys who are friends despite both of them being handsome.

And I know you're going to say hurgle burgle Fury Road men and women can just be friends! Yeah, but you don't have to write them in the most overt love story imaginable and then go "Oh, but they don't kiss at the end! It's a twist!" What are you, Rian Johnson? Fuck off.

Apparently the official explanation is that they want to make a sequel and so they're going to drag the love story out into that and you can see why I think the first movie is better, because they just wrapped everything up and didn't try to make it a saga? Once every thirty years is one thing, but how much can you do with driving around in pick-up trucks, gazing concernedly at CGI tornadoes?

[fonulyn]

“Agent Kennedy!”

Alarmed, Leon straightened his shoulders, still wary of this stranger. He didn’t think they’d ever met, because he would’ve remembered those bright eyes and kissable lips. The guy was handsome in a sort of a boyishly charming way, and had they met at a bar Leon would’ve definitely considered approaching him. Now though, all that just flashed through his mind in a split second before he blurted out a “Who the hell are you?” followed up by “What the hell are you doing here?”

The guy laughed, and damn. He had dimples. “Chris did warn me that you’d be kind of prickly.”

-- Or, Leon gets some unexpected backup on his rogue mission in the Eastern Slav Republic.

-

for @yearoftheotpevent november prompts "life changes" and "growth" :3

[qveerthe0ry]

Hi there!

Joel brought you into the fandom, but is he still your favorite? Have any other characters stolen your heart?

Ahhhh omg I love this question!!

It’s so hard to choose a favorite… They’re all so different and lovely in their own unique way… so I will say that it’s a three-way tie and give in-depth answers as to why 😂

Joel is definitely still a favorite. I am madly in love with the way he becomes so vulnerable, something he clearly promised himself he’d never be again. It’s so endearing and also heartbreaking, the way he tries so hard not to love Ellie because of the hurt that was caused by loving his own daughter, only to end up mass-murdering for her and comparing Ellie to Sarah at the end of the season. It’s so easy to fall in love with him, little by little, as you watch him open up in increments. From the reluctant worry over Ellie, to the way he stays up all night guarding her sleeping bag because she’s scared, to the FINALLY laughing at her jokes, to the ‘do you trust me?,’ the stables scene and ‘you deserve a choice,’ the way he tells her to leave him for dead, the babygirl scene that directly mirrors Sarah’s death scene, all the way to trying to cheer her up with Chef-Boyardee and Boggle and promises of guitar lessons and ‘it wasn’t time that did it.’ All of these little moments just made my heart grow so so big for this character. There is also something so sexy about a guy who is a tough nut to crack, only to find that his center is sweet and gooey and decadent. And then he’s also such a dilf and the GRAYS are just 😍

Second, and this one surprises me, is Frankie Morales. I will preface this by saying I am way more enamored by fanfic Frankie than the actual movie character. TF isn’t my favorite type of movie, and we get so little of Frankie in it, so I’m very self-aware of the fact that fics and fandom head-canons have overtaken my judgement. BUT. Because we get so little of him, it’s very easy to mold him into what we want, which is so fun when it comes to writing. We know canon Frankie is the most reserved of the bunch, and that he is a family man, and he’s very level-headed. But what flavor of reserved is he? Aloof, brooding, and dark? Love it. Shy, hesitant, and sad? Also love it. I love that the fandom has all agreed that he is the pussy eating king, a golden retriever boyfriend, and also fairly commonly bisexual/pansexual. Also, he is so CUTE. His little curls under his little hat, and his tiny little butt, and his patchy beard, and his puppy dog eyes. Textbook definition of boyishly handsome, which is so different from most Pedro characters’ looks.

Third is the disaster bisexual himself, Dieter Bravo. Listen. It took me like four times to finally watch The Bubble all the way through. What a nightmare. But I really do think Dieter is the shining star of that movie. He has a little bit of those Joel vibes. At the beginning he’s this cocky, Tony Stark-esque character, mysterious and full of himself. But he very quickly dissolved into this sad little guy on drugs, which is just a great brand honestly. I do have the same fanfic-tinted lenses for him as Frankie, but honestly this man is so unhinged that I’m pretty sure every Dieter fic I’ve ever read is in-character and could totally be canon. I love that he is so reckless but also such a sweetheart at the core, ie: crying over a baby goat and falling in love with a receptionists because she’s like the first person to actually treat him with kindness. Also as someone who’s non-binary/gender-fluid, I really dig the ‘I’ll sleep with anyone’ vibes. He seems like the most attainable Pedro character in that regard 😂

Honorable mentions because I’m insufferable: Din Djarin for kind of the same reason as Joel, but also being so fucking funny without even trying just because of The Way That He Is

and

Marcus Pike because I just love a good sweet angel boyfriend 😌

Thank you thank you thank you for this ask 🫶🏻💕💖🥰 I had fun coming up with my extremely convoluted answer lol

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

Fictober Prompt Day Ten! Prompt: "It's okay, I'm here now."

Pairing: Ashley Graham/Leon S. Kennedy (Resident Evil)

Read below!

(and yes I am posting this here because I do not have the energy to come up with a title. And I wanted so badly to do something funny with this but my brain refused to let me avoid the post RE4 hurt/comfort moments that I could probably write about forever)

“You know, I really feel like all those rom coms have lied to me.”

Leon looks at her like he thinks she might’ve fully lost it. Like after everything -the monsters, the kidnapping, the plagas, the flecks of blood that she’d managed to wipe from her cheeks along with seaspray- it’s the sight of a completely normal, comfortable hotel room that finally does her in.

Which, fair. 

Ashley can’t blame him for thinking the worse, not after everything. It’s all pressing at the back of her mind like whispers from another room, promising that she could hear all the more clearly if she only pressed her ear to a closed door and held her breath. But Ashley is just fine with letting them lurk in the back of her mind for now.

Or, you know…forever. 

Because what does she need to relive all those things for? Isn’t it enough that she’s got blood and grime and sweat sticking to her like a second skin that she’ll never fully be able to shed? 

“Um.” Leon unbuckles the tactical belt that surely has to be as grimy as the rest of him, and sets it gently on the desk in the corner. 

“It’s…” Ashley points, feeling her cheeks color, and Jesus Christ Graham what the hell. She should’ve just kept her mouth shut. “There’s two beds.” 

She swears she can hear Leon mentally counting the people in the room.

Quickly, Ashley shakes her head. “You know what, it’s totally stupid.” She waves a hand, hoping that she’s not as red as she feels. “You know how there’s always just one bed in those types of movies and like Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock always have to share or something and I’m just going to shut up now.”

Leon cracks something of a smile and shakes his head. His hair is dirty and stringy from sweat and rainwater and who even knows what all things considered and the strands brush his forehead in a way that still manages to give him a boyishly handsome appearance. If Ashley were to notice that type of thing…in between counting beds in a hotel room, of course. 

“Okay, well, I’m not exactly Hugh Grant so I guess it works.” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Ashley assures him quickly. “You’re much better than Hugh Grant anyway. He could never…” She trails off, crossing her arms over her chest before she can do something even more embarrassing like mimic that firing of a gun or something. “I’m definitely glad you’re here and not Hugh Grant,” she finishes instead, which is barely better, she thinks. 

At least there’s another soft sort of smile. “Thanks. I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

Ashley nods and keeps her mouth shut.

For once.

Leon doesn’t so much as offer her the first shower as make it obvious that he isn’t going to be taking one until she does so she might as well just put them both out of their misery and get to it. And any thoughts Ashley might’ve possibly had about protesting vanish immediately when she steps beneath the warm spray, tipping her head back and letting the water sluice down her face, her neck, between her shoulder blades, all across skin that had previously felt like it might never get clean again.

Now, at least, there feels like there’s something of a chance.

She takes longer than she’d intended, finally emerging to find herself scrubbed pink with flushed cheeks and damp hair, looking at her reflection in the mirror like she’s suddenly become a perfect stranger. Ashley reaches out, touching the reflection of what she knows to be her own face, left only slightly smudged by the lingering steam on the glass. Really, she looks the same. No one would be able to look at her and know any of the things she’s done and seen over the past few days. But still, Ashley feels like a stranger to herself, to the girl looking back at her with serious eyes, hollow and far away. Soon, all of this will be over. She’ll be back home and her father can feel reassured that he isn’t the reason that his only daughter is forever lost or dead or worse. And she’ll go back to school, back to her friends, back to…all the inane things she was doing before she realized that monsters were real and they were worse than any of the stories she’d ever heard around a Girl Scout campfire. 

Ashley ignores her reflection in favor of finishing drying herself off and dressing into the sweats and oversized shirt from the hotel’s gift shop. Seems like the safer option anyway. 

Leon looks slightly relieved to see her when she emerges, though Ashley is certain it’s because that finally means he can actually get clean and stop standing around in his absolutely filthy clothes. He points toward a collection of protein bars and peanut butter crackers on the table. “Help yourself.”

Ashley frowns despite the fact that her stomach is currently devouring itself with a ravenous determination. “I was kinda hoping for, you know, a double cheeseburger and a giant plate of cheese fries.”

Oh god. Just saying the words out loud makes her want to double over and start weeping. 

She is never going to take McDonalds for granted again.

Leon gives her a sympathetic look, seeming genuinely apologetic. “I know. But it’s been a while since you’ve eaten anything, right?” She presses her lips together, which is answer enough for him. “So it’s best to ease into it. Otherwise you’ll just…lose it all again anyway.” 

Ashley groans but doesn’t argue, plucking out one of the granola bars at random. 

“Trust me, I know,” Leon says, his apologetic expression turning slightly amused. “They aren’t my favorite either.” 

By the time Leon has the shower running, Ashley has nearly devoured the bar, absently flipping through the TV channels as she settles on the bed furthest from the door. All the programs are in Spanish, though she thinks she might be able to parse out what’s going on purely by watching what everyone is doing and employing some of that high school Spanish she’d feigned her way through.

Not that it matters, really.

She’s asleep before she even finishes eating the granola bar. 

And, eventually, her dreams take her back there again, just as Ashley had known they would. Back to the castle, with its stone walls and floor leeching the heat from her skin and smelling like damp and mold and something far older than anything she’d ever known. Something that would be around long after she was gone.

It takes her back to rough hands on her arms, on her legs, around her mouth. To the way a person looked as their head exploded from a gunshot, or as they lie dying with anger in their eyes. It takes her to leviathan creatures who care nothing for Ashley Graham, the only daughter of the President of the United States, who once thought she might ride horseback in the Olympics but instead fell in love with antiques and architecture and the smell of an old house as it was restored back to life. People and things who saw her as a pawn and nothing more, something they would use until she was twisted and empty and a memory to the people who had once loved her. 

It takes her back to a cold basement room, a searing pain in her chest that was surely worse than dying would’ve been. To a weight she never thought she would be able to lift, to the certainty that she was too late, that she wasn’t strong enough, that she would never be able to actually do anything right.

Back to the feeling that she was going to be there forever, that she would die there in the dark, her mind filling her with the certainty, now, that she had never actually left there at all. 

But then it all disappears just as quickly, snapping away like the flipping of a light switch, and Ashley’s eyes fly open and there’s Leon in front of her and they aren’t in the castle, aren’t in some ruined Spanish village, aren’t fighting for every single breath they take. His hands are on her shoulders, sharp and insistent, and it’s that pressure that brings her fully back to the moment, to the hotel room, to Leon in front of her.

“Ashley.” His voice is as sharp as his touch, worry creasing his features, and he seems to relax when she exhales, blinking at him. “Ashley, it was just a dream. You’re okay. It’s okay. I’m here now.” 

He blurs at the edges and her eyes fill with tears and she’s too tired, too sore, too empty to even care about crying in front of him after everything. Instead, Ashley just leans forward, closer, and he lets her, his hands moving from her shoulders, one settling around the nape of her neck when she settles against his chest. 

“It’s okay,” Leon says again, quietly, his breath warm against the nape of her neck. “It’s okay. It’s over. You’re safe now.”

Ashley swallows, shaking her head. Her tears are silent, her body too exhausted to muster the noise that might go with them. “How can you be sure?” 

After all, she’d thought she was safe before. She’d thought nothing could ever happen to her. She was untouchable, privileged. 

What an idiot she was. 

Leon, to his credit, doesn’t rush to reassure her. Doesn’t just immediately start throwing platitudes at her and spinning the same sort of fairy tales that she’d believed in for far too long.

He’s just quiet, contemplating, as he keeps one hand settled gently against the curve of her head, the other holding tightly to hers. Ashley can’t remember how that had happened…had she reached for him? Had he been the one to hold her hand? 

It hardly seems to matter now.

Finally, Leon says, “Because I still have plenty of bullets.”

Ashley laughs, startled by the impulse, the noise thick and watery. She sniffs, leaning back and wiping at her cheeks as she nods. “Okay.”

Bullets, she believes in.

Just like she believes in Leon, how he’d been right beside her through everything, how he’d come for her and hadn’t left her behind. And how it feels, even now, to have him there beside her.

And there might be two beds, but that doesn’t stop Leon from settling himself down beside her, his presence solid and reassuring as he waits for her to fall asleep once more. 

[yanderu-deredere]

THEY GO UP TO 6"3 ⁉️⁉️⁉️ lord have mercy thats an entire foot taller than me (5"3........ crying) i will be cowering in fear (or excitement whichever one comes first)

a/n: really truly, anon.... that's unfortunate LOL me, hiding in the corner at a whopping five foot even. anyway, this isn't abt me, it's abt you.

now that u mention it tho, i think i need to make some of these bitches smaller. i think my size kink is showing lmao but it's just so fun to make them giants! like why not? im god, i control this world! neway, my next oc is gunna be like avg size (which i googled after typing this and apparently is 5'10 so we're both still screwed anon)

liam arieh ★ soren kumar

Liam always stood confidently; he knew he could act arrogantly because he had the guns (both metaphorically and physically) to back him up. However, for some reason, standing in front of a small thing like you, all nervous and fidgety, he couldn't help but stand a little straighter, try to get even a quarter of an inch taller than the dainty pop star on the other side of you.

"Its why you have to drink your milk." He teased you, broad hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. Though his words seemed innocent enough, there was a tone in his voice that made it sound like there was something more to it than that. Coupled with the smirk on his face, all devilish and handsome, well...

Soren, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. If Liam was shady, Soren was the sun. It was what he was known for after all; the sunny member of his band, the leader who could do no wrong. Standing in front of him like this, you could understand. He was tall and broad-shouldered, looking dependable and responsible. Yet, when he looked down at you, there was a gleam in his eye that made a cold shiver roll down your spine.

"Don't tease them." Soren swatted Liam's hand away from you before pulling you close by the shoulders. Your head hit his very firm and solid chest and you couldn't help but think huh, you only came up to his chest?

Somehow, standing so close in between the two of them, you didn't feel very safe.

You were right not to feel safe. Standing next to them, you were small. Bent in half like this, with Soren holding your knees to your ears, you were even smaller.

"Fuck," you heard Liam mutter into your ear, his breath making you shiver and his thick cock in your entrance making your head absolutely spin "You're going to take your milk like a good little pet, right?"

You heard Soren laugh boyishly above you, his cock pressing in right beside Liam's, both of them thick and throbbing and stretching you past your limits and beyond, teetering you between pain and pleasure. "Hey, maybe if you drink enough of our milk here, you'll grow taller, hmmm?"

"Oh, yeahhh." Even though you could barely think, you could still recognize the sarcasm in Liam's voice "We should definitely try that. What do you say, baby? Wanna take all our milk like a good little pet, get nice and tall?"

Yeah, sure, it was worth a try, wasn't it?

[ryanreynoldsfangirl]

Ryan Reynolds' Career

Today's hot topic is.... guess who? Ryan Reynolds! (his career but who cares.)

The charming, affable, and boyishly handsome Reynolds has made his way through everyone's hearts. His captivating personality and his witty humor never fails to amaze the crowd, be it teenagers or people old enough to be his grandmother.

HIS DEBUT ROLE IN THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY

At the young age of 15, Ryan made his debut as Billy Simpson in the Canadian teen soap opera, Hillside, in 1991. The show lasted till 1993. Along with that, his journey in Hollywood began from the movie Ordinary Magic in 1993. He played the 15-year-old Ganesh who was born and brought up in India. Hinduism and Mahatma Gandhi's teachings highly influenced his character in this movie.

(WE KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING. EVEN WE'RE LOSING OUR SANITY OVER THIS!!!!!)

(Look at our lil' floatie-floatie boy <3333)

Anywaaaaay.

Reynolds had a few supporting parts in films and TV shows. Because he no longer wanted to play an adolescent, he declined the role of Xander in Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003). (Terrible fate, we know.) Instead, he was cast in the ABC comedy Two Guys, a Girl, and a Pizza Place as medical student Berg (1998–2001).

His role in the comedy The In-Laws marked his entry into the world of high-budget entertainment. He had an appearance in The X-Files episode titled Syzygy. He also made an appearance as the letter 'A' in the A-Team, in the 4225th episode of the popular kids show Sesame Street.

(THIS IS OUR LITTLE ANGRY A-BOY.)

Now the more exciting part,

HIS MOVIES!

When it comes to effortless charisma and wry wit, it's hard to top Canadian charmer Reynolds. But even though the Vancouver-born actor is mostly unchallenged in those categories, it took a while for him to take off as a bonafide movie star. After a decade of hit-or-miss comedies, Reynolds eventually hit the bullseye with 2016's Deadpool, marking the perfect use of his naughty humor and comic delivery.

(Our top G Ryan as Deadpool *rock 'n' roll*)

Deadpool is regarded as one of the best superhero movies of all time and quickly became the highest earning R-Rated film ever, only beaten by Joker in 2019.

A few of his most adorable films include 'Definitely, Maybe' (2008), The Proposal (2009), The Change-Up (2011), and Just Friends (2005).

He's got many spectacular action movies under his belt. A few of them include, The Hitman's Bodyguard (2017) with top-rated co-star Samuel L. Jackson, 6 Underground (2019), Free Guy (2021), Red Notice (2021), and The Adam Project (2022).

Let's not forget his role as Harvey Kinkle (with the bad hair, ew, but he's cute so we'll take it.) in the movie Sabrina The Teenage Witch (1996).

And then there are a few movies which weren't very well received by his audience. These include R.I.P.D. (2013), Amityville Horror (2005), Green Lantern (2011), and Turbo (2013).

Moving on....

AWARDS HE'S RECEIVED OVER THE YEARS.

Our gorgeous superstar Ryan has received many notable awards as his career progressed. The first ever award he received was in 2003, it was the 'Young Hollywood Award for Next Generation - Male'. Then came an award for his role in Green Lantern - 'People's Choice Award for Favorite Superhero' in 2012, even though this movie was met with conflicting reviews, Reynolds managed to win different hearts by doing what he always does. Turn his charm on. (We AREN'T complaining at all.) A huge number of awards followed his movie Deadpool, which was a major box office hit. One for Best Entertainer in a Comedy Movie, and another for Entertainer of The Year.

Here's Ryan accepting the People's Icon Award at the People's Choice Awards 2022. (Look at his adorable smile, we all love him here at Ganesh Lovers' Community.)

Reynolds' has had a total of 60 nominations and 21 wins in his Hollywood career, which is actually quite a lot.

HIS PERSONAL LIFE

Childhood

Reynolds was raised in a Vancouver Irish Catholic home as the youngest of four boys. His parents were police officers and his mother worked in retail. Two of his brothers work in law enforcement, while a third is a member of the RCMP. From 1940 until 1944, his grandfather Chester Reynolds served as a legislator for Stettler, Alberta, as a member of the Social Credit Party.

Love Life

He was engaged to singer-songwriter Alanis Morissette from June 2004 to February 2007, when they called off their engagement.

Ryan with Alanis.

Shortly after, Reynolds started dating actress Scarlett Johansson, with whom he married on September 27, 2008, at a resort in Clayoquot Sound, close to Ucluelet, British Columbia. In December 2010, they divorced and filed for separation.

Ryan with Scarlett.

He started dating Blake Lively, his Green Lantern co-star, in 2011, and the two got married on September 9, 2012.

Ryan with Blake.

Children

Ryan and Blake have three daughters together: James (born in 2014), Inez (born in 2016), and Betty (born in 2020). Betty’s name was publicly revealed by a close friend, Taylor Swift in her song of the same name from the album Folklore.

Them with their three kids. (Our mini Ryan's and Blake's <3)

Personal Achievements

In 2008 and 2009, People magazine ranked Reynolds as one of the sexiest men alive. He was named the magazine's sexiest man alive in 2010.

He was inducted into Canada's Walk of Fame in 2011, but the event was postponed since he couldn't make it. (Kinda depressing, TBH.) The day of his official induction was October 18, 2014.

But in December of 2016, Reynolds was honored with a star of his on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

(They're the cutest, seriously.)

Let's move on to....

HIS CHARITY AND ADVOCACY WORK

(This is kind of lengthy, bear with us.)

He's a humble and down-to-earth man, at least from what we've heard, and with the help of his super incredible wifey Blake, they make the power duo and set foot on Earth to save a few souls here and there. Here are a few of their contributions:

A half-million dollars were given to the Canadian nonprofit Water First Education & Training Inc. in March 2022 by Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively. 

In Vancouver, Canada, Reynolds also appeared in campaign videos sporting his recognizable "ugly" red-and-green sweater. By January 2021, according to the charity, $640,000 had been raised as a result of his fundraising efforts.

In March 2021, Reynolds and Lively gave $250,000 to a Canadian organization that mentored Indigenous youngsters, Influence Mentoring. 

Reynolds and his wife had also matched donations made to Covenant House Vancouver and Toronto up to a total of $250,000 in a remarkable gesture of generosity to help youngsters who are homeless, victims of trafficking, or in danger, back when COVID-19 had first struck.

Reynolds joined The Michael J. Fox Foundation in 2008 when he participated in Team Fox's New York City Marathon run. Reynolds ran the marathon in his father's memory, finishing in under four hours and raising more than $100,000 for Parkinson research.

And lastly,

HIS ALCOHOL COMPANY AVIATION GIN

As we see his posts on social media promoting his gin company:

Let's give you a brief history on the company and his role in it.

The goal of Aviation Gin was to develop a democratic gin blend with juniper in the background. It was formed in 2006 out of Portland, Oregon. a gin that is suitable for every cocktail. For the next ten years, it would remain mostly unknown.

Fast forward to 2018, when gin use was growing more rapidly than that of any other type of alcohol. This led to substantial changes in the sector, such as Reynolds buying a stake in the Aviation American Gin.  Reynolds is the creative director for the marketing campaign, and it is spectacularly successful (Aviation Gin is now the fastest-growing gin brand in America). How could it not? Reynold is a comic genius who conveys important messages about the quality of gin in the funniest, most approachable ways conceivable. Here's one of his advertisements for the company:

Hilarious! Are we right?!

Ah, sadly we have to end this splendid deep dive into our favorite floatie-boy Ryan Reynold's life here, but! We're not signing off without blessing your eyes with a few photos of his ;)

Your welcome.

Anyway, signing off, it's the dream team, Ganesh Lovers (get it?).

Adios till our next blog!

[elysiumxii]

cont from here w/ @lellarps ft jaewoo & joshua

Jaewoo's teacup clinks softly as he sets it down against the saucer, gaze currently preoccupied with the report on the table in front of him, lap occupied by his cat. Sat purring, fluffy black tail curled around herself, as green eyes stared out at the room around them. In fact, she was the first one to see the would-be assassin on his approach, not that she could do anything about it but prick the end of her tail and watch in interest as he came closer.

The barrage of noise, cursing and and blood that follows next has everyone's attention, including Jaewoo's. His head snaps up from the paperwork, glancing over towards the long reception room, as he watches the large bodies of his guards storm forward, and a fight ensues. There are punches, the clatter of a dropped gun and the smashing of an antique vase from a nearby poser table - all before their guest as wrestled to the ground.

Releasing his hold of the cat, Jaewoo lets her jump from his lap as he stands, and walks forward towards the debris of what he assumes may have been as assassination attempt, as his eyes glance to the handgun as he passes it. He then passes a glance over the three men currently nursing a wound as moves through the body of the fight. One had a rather sizable bruise forming on his temple, another winded quite severally and the third... well he wasn't even conscious. Whoever this was had taken out three of his finest, an interesting feat.

It is then that he stops in front of the pinned man in question, watching him struggle a little against the hands that hold him, as his own eyes narrow. Why did he look so... familiar. His view, however, was obscured, so reaching down he sinks his fingers into a fistful of hair and tugs, finally able to land his own gaze on that face.

Quickly it alights with an almost boyishly cheeky manner, something more than a little surprising for the circumstances. Jaewoo's eyes continue to gaze over pleasing features, before his own nestle into a frown. "I know you.." he murmurs softly, because he was definitely familiar. He has seen him somewhere before, in the background but Jaewoo never forgets a handsome face.

[tampatom12]

Peyton or Eli?

The girlies need to know, babe 🥰

My head says Peyton but my heart says Eli 🥺😩

Overall though...Eli all the way!!! 😍

Peyton did a lot of great things for the Colts during his tenure there and I love him for bringing a little respect back to my hometown team during that time.

Also, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't ask for a P. Manning jersey for Christmas every single year from the time I was 5 until I was 13...I used to like him that much. 🤭😝💞

Though I of course knew of Eli and had heard of the Manning Family Football Dynasty growing up, I didn't fully understand what that all meant until I was firmly in high school. Even then, I didn't care too much because I definitely wasn't as into football as what I am now!! 😂🤪

Now that I know more about ✨everything ✨ related to the Manning's (including Peyton's legendary but friendly feud with my guy Tom Brady‼️‼️) , I tend to lean more towards Eli. 😊💓

He is boyishly handsome in a way that Peyton just isn't, is as funny as what Peyton is, and has such an iconic gay relationship with Odell Beckham Jr. 🤗

I love him your honor 🥺🥹🤧💕💗

[sparrow-stunned]

I would sell my left kidney to have some mafia boss Venti content

content warning: yandere, possessive behaviour, unequal power dynamic. reader disrection is advised.

Okay, I've had this thought before! Because Venti's definitely the one who seems super happy-go-lucky—the type to murder someone in cold blood, but smiling as though he were playing a game, humming all the while a cheerful tune under his breath. The type to use extremely thin blades hidden away everywhere on his body in secret pockets no one knows. He's short, but he’s earned a reputation. The throwing-knife, stabby kind. And he likes to make his toys sing.

So how I imagine the backstory is that you’re an investigator that’s managed to worm your way into the family, working right under the boss himself—the same boss that’s been so unknown to your department, who’s so mysterious that no-one even knew their name, outside of the top family members.

How it begins is this: in the city of Tevyat, there are seven prominent groups in the underground. You've been sent on a mission to infiltrate the ones that call themselves Mondstadt, the so-called freedom fighters (though fighting for what freedom, you’re not sure). How you actually get in though, is far from the usual orthodox ways afforded to investigators of working their ways up to meeting the leaders. The higher-ups of the organization were exclusive and hidden, the boss of the family even moreso.

But of all the bosses in Teyvat—archons, the populace calls them, since they’re similar to magistrates in that they set down the unspoken laws of the underground—the Mondstadt archon is the most unknown one. In fact, there had been rumours he’d already been killed, or stuck in a coma, or some other tragic event. The head of the Mondstadt group is now Jean, who’s inherited it from the old guard composed of people like Varka, but she’s not the archon, which tells you that the Mondstadt archon hasn’t been killed at all. Not if the title was still used on some hidden piece no one knew. It seems that the archon’s just extremely laissez-faire in the governing of his group.

Unknown this archon may be, but somehow, through a stroke of luck, you end up saving someone with connections to him. Not that you were aware; you merely thought he was an eccentric singer. His name is Venti, and you save him from a cat, of all things, the little kitten circling the frightened man who keeps sneezing and shooing it away. My saviour, he positively sings it when he inspects you up and down after the offending kitten has been safely given back to its own (a little girl in red, who has quite an explosive imagination). There’s this gleam in his teal eyes when he calls your name, a sure sign of a mischievous trickster. That should have been the first sign. But you suspect nothing of his darker roots, taken in by his boyishly handsome looks. 

You still think he’s a normal civilian, so when Venti insists on rewarding you for your bravery (it shall be sung in ballads, he says with a smirk) by bringing you to a fancy dinner party as his guest, you accept reluctantly. Not because you want to go, but more so because this man sticks around you like sticky rice, refusing to let himself from your side even as you’re making your investigations. when you tell him you’re busy with matters. The excuse was that you’re interested in joining the Mondstadters, and that’s when his eyes twinkle. “Oh? Why would you want to associate with a bunch of thugs?”

“I think their philosophy is interesting,” you tell him half-truths, something about seeking power and admiring the Mondstadt archon and freedom in joining their group. If it could even be called freedom, how many rules and regulations the families set down in order to prevent territory wars.

“I see!” Venti claps his hands together. “Maybe you’ll find the party useful then! It has quite a number of notable attendants. Perhaps their connections will help you.”

“Notable? You mean like celebrities?”

“…you could say that!” Venti says while laughing.

Strangely enough, even though Venti’s broke—you’ve seen the poor state of his wallet, nary a penny to his name—he manages to send you this expensive suit set, complete with this little brooch at the lapel, emerald gem pinned, a pattern of the wind etched onto it. You don’t think much of it, much more aghast at the fact that Venti was able to afford this item—he could barely pay for his drinks whenever he dragged you to the bar with him, and even then, you paid for him half the time. The other half of the time consists of Venti putting the drinks on his tab and getting scolded for it by the red-haired bartender. So shocked were you, you don’t even ponder how it is that he knew where you lived. After moving to a new location because of this assignment, you’ve never told anybody your new home.

You attend the party. Grasping at straws, because the secrets of the boss were so highly protected, you sigh and make yourself decent enough to go. When you hand in the invitation, the guards at the front widening their eyes at the chicken-scratch of Venti’s writing, they let you in without a fuss, even bowing profusely at you as you step through the door. Rich people are weird, and it seems like the people they hire are even weirder, you think absentmindedly as you wander around the halls of this luxurious mansion. People give you a wide berth, occasionally glancing at the emerald gem you keep touching in some semblance of comfort at your lapel. 

It’s when you try to get to one of the break rooms to rest your feet that you finally understand what Venti meant when he said there may be “prominent figures”. Because the person you almost knock over is the acting boss of the family, Jean.

She’s there, apologizing so softly, so politely, as you try to keep yourself from showing any of your shock on your face, your heart about to leap out of your mouth, beating so violently against your ribcage you think you may be ill. That’s when Venti pops in, that disarming smile, as always, present on his face. He’s surely laughing on the inside at your thoughts right now, racing so fast you struggle to keep up.

“So that’s your person, sir,’ Jean says, as Venti wraps his arm around your neck in a friendly hold—friendly only to him though, because you were finally beginning to understand. “You should keep a better watch. In this place… you never know who could take advantage.”

His.. person? Sir? The horror of the situation finally dawns itself on you, puzzle pieces sliding into place, as Venti nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck—an intimate gesture you’d gotten used to, having known him for months now, but only now does it make your mouth dry. Not with anticipation, no, but a deep unsettling dread that lodges itself in your throat. 

“It’s okay,” Venti says to Jean, the smile never leaving his face. His eyes shift to the brooch at your lapel, and his arm lets your neck go, sliding around your waist instead, pulling you toward him. “Everyone we’ve invited should know better than to displease the archon of Mondstadt, don’t you think? Not if they don’t want to get a knife in their eyes, I’d think. I do enjoy the loudness of their screams though.”

Jean shrugs, nonplussed at his violent words. “Whatever you say, sir. I’ll be going now. The guests will need to be watched extensively, after all.”

You watch her leave, and finally you open your mouth.

“What just… No, who are you?” 

Venti grins. “You said you wanted to join us, didn’t you?” His grip around your waist gets tighter, and you’re acutely aware that despite his slight form, he’s strong. Too strong for you to do anything about his touch, how his fingers are tapping on your hip bone a rhythm to an unknown song. “As your new boss, I must say…”

He leans into your ear, warm breath caressing the shell of your ears, voice sing-song with a smug satisfaction, “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

You swallow. You hadn’t even agreed to joining—but isn’t this what you’ve been working toward? So you smile weakly, say, “Likewise,” and pretend that his eyes are not sparkling at how your full attention is on him. Pretend that the kiss he presses to your cheek is just a friendly gesture—and not a mark of possession, like the one he’s pinned to the lapel of your suit, like the bruises you’ll find on your neck in the future, when Venti makes you sing like he’s always wanted.

[borrovved]

warned you p.sh

pairing: tutor!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: smut, but at most suggestive for now

wc: 3k

warnings: mature content, cursing, mentions of erection, mentions of casual sex, y/n saying she’s screwing someone’s dad but she doesn’t lmfao

synopsis: y/n needs to pass calculus, and sunghoon needs to get laid

part 1/???

You were going to your snobby and strict private school, just walking to the beat of Sunmi blasting in your headphones. The pigtails got in the way of the headphones but you made it work. You were aiming for the cutesy innocent look today, regardless of if your whole grade thought you were some harlot. You’d rather call yourself a femme fatale, but what you’re really trying to reclaim as a raging bratty feminist is a bimbo.

Bimbos definitely need to keep their head up high with confidence, but seeing the latest AP calculus quiz on your desk with its 37% marked in red severely irked you in that it made you feel dumb, and not the good kind, the very small and insignificant kind. Bimbos don’t like feeling like that. You twirled your pigtail in your hand and tried to keep a neutral expression, holding in the heavy sigh you so badly need to exhale out. That’s when you heard it.

“How did she manage to score that low?” someone snickered.

“All that time spent on her back and not at a desk really paid off.” another person snickered. You really wanted to say you’ve actually got railed by their dad on his desk and that you’re quite adaptable on where you do it, but you didn’t wake up and choose violence today...and plus the teacher would’ve sent you to the office. Giving them attention would just fuel the fire that you can’t put out when you’re up against slut shaming vermin when you’re only a team of one. The bell rang, signaling your next class and before you were able to stand up and go, you were asked to stay for a few minutes afterwards along with someone else. That someone else being Park Sunghoon. You and Sunghoon walked to the desk of your teacher and stood before her.

“Now Y/N, I know that you haven’t been doing well in class so I decided to pair you up with Sunghoon as your tutor. I feel as though you would have great improvement after a few study sessions, considering big chapters are coming up to wrap up the semester, and now is the best time more than ever to get some aid that I can’t provide.” You peek over to Sunghoon and he glances at you briefly before looking back at the teacher.

“Is this mandatory?” you ask.

“If you want to pass this class, I strongly recommend that you let him help you. An alternative explanation could help.” You really had no other choice but to nod your head yes and go along with it.

“Good. Now that both of you are informed, hurry along before you’re late to your next class.” After both of you scurry out of the room, you walk ahead to your next class and feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Sunghoon, but you already knew that.” he says awkwardly while he hands you a post it note in neat handwriting. You eye it, then look up.

“You’re giving me your number?” you ask. He nods.

“Texting is the most efficient way to communicate with me since I have ice skating practice and student council related things to do.” he iterates. Before you even say a word, Sunghoon is already off to his next class, but you don’t miss the way he turns around to wave at you and yells “Text me!” in the hallway. You’ve gotten many stares before, from the way you carry yourself and from the way you purposely pull your uniform skirt higher because you think it would look best as a mini skirt, but this time, you heard whispers.

“Why is he talking to her?”

“Must be doing charity work.”

You smile. You can’t wait to tell your best friend Sunoo what just happened at lunch.

-

“The ice prince is doing what now?” Sunoo says with fruit gummies in his mouth.

“He’s helping me with calculus. And gave me his number.” you say while grabbing for a piece of candy to which Sunoo lets you grab a few.

“So…what’s the plan here?” Sunoo says with an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll text him right now and have some fun.”

“You whore! What do you mean have some fun?” Sunoo asked not subtly with his booming voice.

You roll your eyes. “You know the drill. I think he’s an easy target. I’ll be my cute charming self and see what happens.”

“You mean you’ll be a man eater and devour that poor innocent boy whole?” 

“You know me so well.” you say, grinning ear to ear. You whip out your phone and compose a text.

You: Hey Sunghoon, it’s Y/N, are you free after school today?

Unknown: Hey, and yes. Where would you like to study?

You: I’m more comfortable at my house where there’s less distractions. The library is too quiet for me and I like some white noise.

Sunoo peeks over your shoulder and says, “He responds fast.”

You smile, “Right?”

You start typing right away, but notice the three dots before you get to send anything.

Unknown: Sounds good, I’ll meet you after school :)

Sunoo gasps. “A smiley? A smiley!” You giggle at his reaction.

“It’s just an emoticon silly.” you say.

“It’s going to be water droplets and eggplants soon though.” Sunoo said in a sing song voice. You can’t help but laugh at your easily giddy best friend. You had big, big plans to get your prey, and you were going to have your fun in the process of passing calculus while you’re at it.

-

English literature wasn’t the most fun class in the world with talking about MacBeth and all, however, the fun part was daydreaming about Sunghoon. You have fancied the boy for the longest time casually but thought he was a little too vanilla for you. And you don’t like admitting it, a little too good for you with being a smart hardworking boy with his head on steady shoulders while yours just bobbled to whatever. Anyhow, you needed danger. A little spice, and everything delectably nice. He didn’t seem the type to be rough enough.

He was however tall, lean, and achingly adorable. Handsomely crafted, so soft spoken, and knew when to shut up unlike every boy you’ve slept with thus far. He’s a nice target. 

The bell rang, and you were quite surprised to see Sunghoon standing by your locker while you’re on your way there.

“Sunghoon!” you say cheerfully, making sure there was a bounce in your step, very glad you’re not wearing a bra today. For some reason the air conditioning wasn’t working today at school so you used this as an excuse to unbutton a few buttons earlier on your white crisp button up. You can see very clearly Sunghoon gulp and you can’t help but do your eye smile at this, and he does a soft grin in return.

“How did you figure out where my locker was?” you say as you tilt your head. Sunghoon couldn’t help but think the simple gesture of a head tilt was so charming. 

He shrugs. “I was going to text you but I knew you would be in class, so I looked at some documents to find out which locker it was. You know, student council perks.” 

“Ah.”

“Please don’t find it creepy.”

“I won’t, you dork.” You bend over to reach your locker since it was on the bottom row. Sunghoon stepped aside to let you open your locker, and his breath hitches in his throat. Seeing the back of your thighs in a skirt that was hiked up higher than it was supposed to was bewitching. He felt like he was in a trance and lingered his eyes on your legs for quite a while. Your skirt was just at the edge of the curvature of your ass, leaving some to the imagination but not much. You knew exactly what you were doing. You had many cheap tricks up your sleeve, and you were going to use them to your advantage. You could practically feel his gaze on you and you can’t help but smirk as you grab your calculus textbook along with your pencil bag, still bent over taking your time putting the items in your backpack. Sunghoon knows he has to stop staring or otherwise this won’t look good for him.

“Ready to go?” you say with a smile. It takes a moment for him to process what just happened and he’s all the while wondering how did your legs not hurt when you didn’t crouch to the ground all the way.

“Of course.”

-

The walk to your home was pleasant, you looked down at your shoes often and Sunghoon mapped out what sections you two were to go over in the textbook, including the homework that was assigned today. You asked him how his classes went and he responded after pausing to mull over his thoughts.

“It’s okay. Nothing exciting happened other than right now.” he says, looking at you while giving you his undivided attention. You can’t help but admire the beauty that is Sunghoon. His soft looking hair that frames his face nicely and the way he has his hands shoved into the pockets of his uniform slacks make him look so boyishly handsome and breathtaking.

It takes a moment for you to respond. “What about right now is so exciting?”

He gently smiles and looks away from you. “I don’t tutor people often. Every once in a while I get asked to help students about a few things but never really spend enough time with them to consider it tutoring. And the change of pace on how I manage my time is much needed. I don’t interact with different people often, so this is...nice.”

Your heart races as the clouds take over the blue sky slowly. You notice just how pretty the cute moles on his face are as your gaze lingers on them for a bit. He does that stupid charming smile that makes you giddy and you blush, picking up the pace. You start turning while walking backwards just to give him your undivided attention.

“We should walk faster, Sunghoon. It might start drizzling.”

-

Both of you entered your home and took your shoes off at the front door. Sunghoon took a quick glance at your home, to which he said “this is a cozy house.” You tell him your bedroom is the coziest spot in the house, and let him trail behind you as you go up the stairs, and he doesn’t miss the way your pretty and dainty hand smooths over the railing as you walk up. Entering your room, he noticed the pink canopy bed right away, and the pink heart shaped pillow on it. There were so many details in just one spot, with the floral comforter and lights attached to the tulle. It was pretty and graceful. Light and airy. Soft.

“You can sit on the bed. Let me get changed out of this uniform, it’s so hot in this blazer.” you say as you start to strip in front of your closet, looking away from Sunghoon. Now, Sunghoon doesn’t see himself as a pervert, so therefore, when he noticed you unbuttoning your white button up and could only see the smoothness of your back and notice there was no bra in sight, his cheeks flushed. He quickly turned the other cheek and looked anywhere else but you. Unfortunately, perhaps fortunately, you had a full length mirror with fake pink roses running along its sides across your room. Sunghoon tried really, really hard to look at the curve of the pink petals and not at the curve of your breasts when you turned to the side slightly, but he failed so horribly. He could see himself and his cheeks were beet red. The bulge in his pants was so noticeable too. He quickly placed his backpack on his lap and winced at how heavy it was against him. Why did that kinda feel good?

You turn around wearing your school uniform skirt still but this time with a bright red crop top and of course, no bra. Sunghoon is dying and he can’t help but stare at how prominent your nipples are through the thin material. You take the pigtails down and he loves the way your hair cascades down your shoulders once it’s out of its confines of a scrunchie. He blinks once, twice, many times. Maybe if he sees only the back of his eyelids long enough he will stop picturing you naked. It doesn’t work, and you just stand with your hands on your hips and a lilt to your voice.

“Are you thirsty?” you say sweetly, knowing your tricks are working.

“Uh, y-yeah. Do you have water? Can I have water please?” Sunghoon is so precious.

“Of course you can.”

-

You really are a chintzy whore at best. Your excuse for not sitting at the desk of your room to study was that there was only one comfy study chair, and that you didn’t feel like bringing the dining room chair upstairs. That’s understandable, right? You could’ve however used the chair at your vanity, but that’s just a padded stool with no back to it. Wouldn’t want you or Sunghoon to forget and lean back too far and fall to your doom. So you told Sunghoon that you would rather study in your bed.

You played a little playlist in the background, something mellow and soft and not too distracting. Every once in a while Sunghoon will ask what song it is, and you respond with a chipper in your voice.

“Oh, this one is Sex and Sadness by Madi Sipes and the Painted Blue!”

“That’s one hell of a title.” he chuckles.

“It sure is. The lyrics are so...pretty? I can’t put it into words. The part where it talks about ‘stained glass loved lace’ gets me every time. And ‘whispering words into the singer’s skin.’ It’s romantic.” Sunghoon notices how there’s a certain dazzling feature in your eyes as you talk about the song. He wants to stare in your eyes, but alas you have to finish this one problem. Sunghoon prioritizes responsibilities over such silly, frivolous things that only he notices.

“So tell me how you’re going to solve this problem.” Sunghoon says swiftly while grabbing the glass of water on your nightstand.

You stare at the problem and try your best to concentrate. You really do. But you can’t help the way Sunghoon’s hand looks lazily placed on his thigh. Without much thought, you trace a finger on the back of his hand and say, “Your hands are so veiny.”

“Y/N.”

“And big.”

Well that’s a first, Sunghoon thinks. He knows he’a good looking, a bunch of girls swoon over him at school and at the rink all the time. The most common compliment he gets is on his eyes, and maybe hair, but not on his hands of all things. You’re fascinated by them, and you won’t stop tracing along the veins. Your touch sets his skin ablaze, and it doesn’t seem like you’re finishing this problem any time soon.

“Let’s take a break. I think you’re getting distracted because your brain is all fried.” Sunghoon says softly, still letting you continue playing with his hand.

“I’m getting distracted because I have a pretty boy in my bed.” you giggle. You finally look up and see how pink his cheeks are from blushing.

He starts to stammer “You’re the one that wants to study in your bed!” His voice is a little pitched and you can’t contain your laughs. 

“Do you want to move to the desk then?” you ask.

He shakes his head and mumbles a “no.” A few moments pass and you almost didn’t hear what he says next because it’s under his breath.

“I’ve never been called pretty before.”

“Gasp.” you say, lightheartedly.

“No but like, I’ve been called handsome, smart, a little weird, but not pretty.” Sunghoon replies. A moment of silence passed, and you started to ponder.

“There’s a song called Pretty Boy in my playlist somewhere.”

You go over to your laptop and click on The Neighbourhood song. You sway your hips gently and get lost into the music. Sunghoon just gazes at you as you move along to the steady pulse of the music and let the melodies feel you instead of the other way around. You do a little twirl and waltze your way to your bed, grabbing his hand.

“Dance with me.”

He obliged, wordlessly.

He takes in the words of the lyrics and closes his eyes. If he can’t see how close he is to you right now, it feels less real. It feels less scary. Not that you’re scary, Sunghoon doesn’t think girls with pink heart shaped pillows are scary. What’s scary is you laughing at his boner because he hasn’t been this close to a girl before since a random winter formal he had in grade school. The girl wasn’t all that nice since she dipped to dance with his friend. You’re much softer and nice. More delicate. You even smell nicer. God, your little hands enclosed together behind his neck and his big hands on your waist feels too good to be true. He can feel your gaze on him.

“Sunghoon, open your eyes.” He does, and his breath hitches and you look down, because you definitely feel something poking you and it wasn’t there before.

“I have to go, I have a curfew and it’s getting late, I’ll walk myself out.”

“Sunghoon I can at least walk you down-“

“No, seriously. I can go by myself. Thank you though.”

He’s so wide eyed and his cheeks are so rosy and he dashes away like his life depends on it. And you didn’t even get to kiss him.

[pingutats]

could you write a really fluffy bit on harry kissing every single self harm scar on your body? like, stroking them and cuddling with you and reassuring you that your body is beautiful and okay even with scars? 🥺

thank you for requesting this! this was genuinely quite therapeutic to write so i’m glad i did it — it’s longer than i meant it to be at about 2.4k words, but anyway. here’s a difficult conversation with new boyfriend!harry. 

major trigger warning for discussions of self-harm and scars. this is not a story for everyone, and could definitely be triggering if you are not in the right headspace. please be responsible and look after yourselves <3 

this is also pretty unedited so forgive any mistakes. okay!! onwards!

It’s getting late when Harry asks you, ‘Do you want to spend the night?’

The meandering film you found on Netflix is drawing to a close, finally. The characters are on a boat, drifting away into an Italian sunset. You barely have a grasp of how they got there — mostly, you just listened to Harry talk over the dialogue about a pretty little café he knows just around the corner from where this scene was filmed, or how cool the water gets at night there and so the actors must have been shivering. All of it wrapped up, of course, in a quiet suggestion to take you there someday so you can see for yourself. You get a little thrill every time he says something like that. It means he’s thinking of a future with you, which means he wants one, even though it’s only been just over a month since you’ve been seeing each other.

He trails his fingers up and down your arm, bringing up goosebumps beneath your sleeve, and looks at you. ‘Or I can drive you home, if you’d rather sleep in your own bed.’

You hum. ‘No,’ you say. ‘I’ll stay. I’d probably end up falling asleep in the car anyway. I’m so tired.’

His dimple appears. ‘Good, because I’d probably fall asleep at the wheel.’ He grabs the remote and turns the TV off, then pushes himself off the couch with a groan. He holds his hand out for you. ’C’mon, then.’

You grab his hand and he hauls you up, his other arm coming up to your back to pull you into his chest. You fall against him, grabbing his biceps to steady yourself. The two glasses of wine you’ve had tonight have thrown your balance off. He presses a kiss to your hair as you giggle. Then he brings his hand up to your jaw to tilt your head up to look at him properly. You nearly melt at his green eyes.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I can sleep on the couch.’ His gaze is completely sincere.

You haven’t slept together before, both in the literal and figurative senses. You haven’t had sex with anybody at all, actually, and Harry seems to have picked up on your hesitancy. He’s never asked for anything. He lets everything stay on your terms. 

That’s what makes you trust him.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ you tell him.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, just to make sure. ’Right,’ he says, breaking into a smile.

He finds a new toothbrush in his cupboard for you, and you brush your teeth together. It feels like a big step to do these nighttime rituals with him. It’s so domestic. He shares his cleanser with you and offers his moisturiser that smells like vanilla. You imagine spending every night like this.

As he leads the way back into his bedroom, he pulls his shirt off. ‘I get hot at night. D’you mind?’

You giggle — you can’t help yourself, at the sight of his muscled torso with all of its tattoos. He’s so handsome. ‘Not at all,’ you tell him.

He throws the shirt into a hamper in the corner, and the birds on his chest seem to fly with the movement of his shoulder, then looks back to catch you ogling him. He chuckles, and the sight of his dimples gives you butterflies.

‘You like?’ he asks.

You narrow your eyes. ’Are you flexing?’

He relaxes. ‘Yeah, a bit. Just wanna impress you.’

You snort at that. ‘Like you need to do anything to impress me.’

He grins. ‘D’you want something more comfortable to sleep in?’ He rummages around in his drawer for a moment, then pulls out a t-shirt and holds it up for you. It has an incredibly faded image of Flinstones characters on the front. ‘How’s this?’ he asks.

You smile at his courtesy. ’Perfect. I love your t-shirt collection, by the way. Where the hell do you find things like this?’

‘Oh, you know… Here and there.’ He tosses it to you.

You catch it with some semblance of grace — you’re proud of yourself for that. ‘Thanks.’ You glance at the bathroom door. ‘Alright. I’ll just… get changed in here,’ you say, slipping through the ajar door.

‘Alright, love.’

You shut the door, and realise you’ve forgotten to turn the light on, leaving you in pitch-black. You grope against the wall for the switch and turn it on, and take a deep breath. Why are you so nervous, so frazzled? It’s just Harry. You shimmy out of your leggings, then pull your sweater over your head.

You look at your reflection. Well. There’s a problem. It’s easy for you to forget when you’re alone, or wrapped up in layers of clothing — it’s just a part of your body now. Artefacts from a different time, years ago. Even the memory of how you got them — how you gave them to yourself — is slipping away, thank God. It’s all a haze. These scars were carved by a girl that you don’t see much anymore. They aren’t really a painful reminder anymore, just a fact of life. You know they're there. The problem is, no one else expects it.

You stare down at your wrists, seeing the lines that never faded. Maybe if they were all like the thin white lines, barely visible until you look closely, you wouldn’t mind. You’re going to sleep, anyway, and it’s not like he’s inspecting your forearms. No, it’s the three darker ones, hard twisting scar tissue that you can feel even through sleeves. Times where you went just a little too deep, were a little too reckless. The ones you regret the most. They’re big, and ugly, and too obvious. He’d notice them right away.

But he gave you his t-shirt.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, furrowing your brows. You adjust your pose, twisting your arms around so the inside of your wrists are hidden, facing behind you. You look ridiculous. You know, as soon as you see Harry, you’ll reach for him, and he’ll see.

Would that be so bad?

You look down at your arms again. It’s been years, and they’re still there. They’ll probably be there forever. They’re as permanent as the tattoos on his skin — except those are beautiful, and what you have is not. You can’t show this to him. The world where these scars exist, and the world where he exists, should never cross over. It wouldn’t be right.

You pull your long-sleeve back on, covering them again. Then you put the t-shirt, which is long enough to be modest on you. This is fine, right? It’s better than any alternative, at least.

You leave the bathroom holding your folded sweats up to your chest, nervous now realising that you are standing in front of Harry in just your underwear, more naked than you ever have been in front of him.

He’s checking something on his phone as he sits on the bed, back against the headboard and long legs stretching down the covers, but he brightens up at the sight of you. His gaze drops to your legs — which makes your cheeks burn, but his boyishly excited expression dissolves your nerves — then rises up again to your shirt. He frowns at the long-sleeve. 

‘Are you cold?’ he asks. ‘I thought it was pretty warm but I can turn the heat up if you need.’

You shake your head, dropping your sweats on the floor beside the dresser. ’No, it’s fine.’

He sits up straighter, swinging his legs over the side so his feet rest on the ground. ’Can’t be comfortable to sleep like that.’ He hesitates. ‘You didn’t have to wear the t-shirt if you don’t want to.’

‘No, I want to. I do.’ You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to figure out how to navigate this situation in a way that won’t end in him being annoyed or disgusted. ‘It’s just…’ You trail off, but one glance at his frown, at the way he leans forward and hangs on every word, makes your resolve crumble. You’ll have to have this conversation at one point or another. ‘Okay. Shit, Harry, can I talk to you about something?’

The way he answers immediately makes you want to cry. ‘Yeah, of course. Anything.’ He sits up straighter, pats the covers next to him, inviting you to sit down.

You sigh and cross the room to sit next to him, not daring to meet his eyes. How the hell do you explain this?

He moves his arm behind you once you’re sitting. Not touching you, but enough so he’s close. ‘What’s wrong?’ he prompts. ‘Do you need me to drive you home instead? Because I didn’t—’

‘No,’ you interrupt. ‘It’s fine. It’s just, I kinda…’ You take a deep breath. ‘Okay, please don’t freak out?’

He frowns. His next words are measured. ‘I’ll try not to. Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ you whisper. It feels like the greatest effort in the world, but you curl your fingers around the end of your sleeve and pull it up, revealing your wrists. ‘So, I have these…’ Your voice shakes.

‘Oh, baby,’ Harry says quietly, and that’s all you need to hear. His arm behind you reaches around and pulls you into his chest, hugging you close to him. His thumb rubs circles into your shoulder as you sniffle, his other hand resting on top of yours.

‘It’s in the past, you know,’ you say, muffled into his shoulder. He smells good, you notice. Not that it’s really important right now, but you appreciate it all the same. ‘Not a big deal. Just didn’t want to scare you or anything. ’S embarrassing.’

‘Listen to me,’ he says, pulling back and holding your face in his hands. He waits until you manage to look him in his eyes. They’re watery, you realise, and that might be the most painful thing about this night. ’It’s not embarrassing, alright? I don’t want you to feel like that. They’re part of you, and I really like you, every part.’ He smiles. ‘I really do, you know.’

You sniff, wiping at your cheek with your fingertips, trying to calm your tears. Suddenly all your fears seem ridiculous. Did you really expect him to turn you away, disgusted? Ask to never see you again? You knuckle at your eyes. ‘Okay. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey.’ He springs from the bed to grab the tissue box from the dresser and brings it to you, pulling out a tissue and dabbing under your eyes himself. He’s so gentle. ‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry, that you were worried to show me.’

You chuckle, grabbing a tissue from the box and blowing your nose. What more can you say to him? He’s so wonderful to you. It’s early days still, and you’re wary of moving too fast and coming on too strong. You aren’t experienced with relationships in the same way that you know he is. But you love him. You’re sure of it. You’ll tell him, one day. Soon.

‘You don’t need to wear my shirt if you don’t want to,’ he repeats once you’re calmer.

‘I’ll wear it.’ And to show him, in your sudden burst of confidence, you undress right next to him, taking off both layers and then putting the only t-shirt back on. You turn to him, and giggle. He’s turned his head away. ‘You can look,’ you tell him, nudging his knee with yours.

He looks back with a sheepish smile. ‘Didn’t want to be a creep.’ He scoots backwards onto the bed, settling his back against the headboard. ‘C’mere.’

You crawl over to him, settling with your back against his chest, sitting between his legs. His arms wrap around your middle, anchoring you to him. He presses kisses to your neck, the scruff on his cheeks tickling you. You curl up, twisting your neck away, giggling.

‘Harry!’

‘Sorry, love.’ His hands relax, and find your own. He rests his chin over your shoulder, and gently turns your palms upwards, so your wrists are visible to him.

You shiver, but allow it. You feel this is important. You don’t want to hide with him.

‘Y/N…’ he says quietly. You feel his chest push against your back as it expands with a breath. ‘Am I… am I allowed to touch them?’ he asks.

You’re surprised. You thought he would want to avoid them. You nod, then, realising he can’t really see you, you add, ‘Yeah.’

Your fingers are tense. You can’t help it. His thumb presses into your palm, massaging the tension away. He pulls the back of your hand to his lips and brings it back to your lap.

You close your eyes.

When he finds the first hard lump of scarring with his thumb, he pauses. He takes a shaky breath, then he runs his thumb up and down the length of it.

‘Y/N,’ he says softly.

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. ‘Mm?’

‘You’re beautiful, you know.’ He pulls your hand back up to his lips, but instead he kisses the biggest scar on your wrist. ‘No matter what. You are.’

‘Harry,’ you whisper, because you don’t know what to say.

He kisses the scar again, then trails his lips up your wrist, covering them all. ‘I don’t want you to be ashamed of anything. You survived. That’s a wonderful thing.’ He drops your hand and cups your jaw, turning your head towards his. He leans around your shoulder to face you properly. ’I’m so fucking proud of you, you know?’

You never were good at taking compliments, so you just cross the distance between the two of you and kiss him.

When you’re lying together in the dark a little while later, with his arm thrown over you protectively and his soft breaths hitting your neck where his t-shirt doesn’t cover, you feel safe. Your arms are bare, you’re with another person, and you feel safe in this situation for the first time in years. It’s a wonderful feeling. All because of Harry.

You can’t wait to wake up in the morning and see his face again.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

That’s the golf cart boy that helps your family when you go to the country club and play golf and you ask him to teach you how to swing properly so he can put his arms around you

“I missed.” Y/N huffs as she watches her golf ball sail through the air and disappear into the lake behind her target, her shoulders slouching and mouth dipping into a subdued frown. This is her third failed attempt yet. “You’re utter shit at teaching for someone who’s been working here so long.”

Harry simply gives the amateur a crooked grin from where he’s standing off on the sidelines, his lean arms crossed over his stomach nonchalantly as he waits for her to finish walking towards to him. He takes the bait for their usual banter, snorting in amusement at her fiery reaction. “I’m an amazing golf coach; it’s not my fault you have no talent. I can only build on people’s skills, not pull them out of my ass and hand them over on a silver platter. Maybe if you actually practiced like I told you—”

“Maybe if this sport wasn’t so fucking boring,” she bites back, using the end of her golf club to nudge him pointedly in his sturdy chest, “I would be stimulated enough to try.”

Harry purses his lips to hide a filthy smirk, taking the tool from her and tossing it into the bag across the backseat of his cart. He turns back to face his conditional student, one of his brows inching upwards snidely. “Are you saying you’re not stimulated enough?”

Y/N’s features crack into a scowl at his inappropriate joke. “Hilarious. I bet you’re a hit among pre-teens, aren’t you?”

“I am, yeah!” He quips brightly, exaggerating an innocent smile as he rounds the side of the vehicle and mounts into the driver’s spot. He parts his legs widely as he gets comfortable, and she has to restrain the urge to rake her gaze down the unbelievably short trousers riding up his thick thighs. He pats at the seat beside him symbolically, silently requesting that she join him. “But I’m also great with the ladies. Get a hole in one every time. Literally.”

The girl releases a sound of aggravated disgust at his stupid self-absorbed comment, trudging through the wet grass and rolling her eyes in exasperation as he giggles boyishly. She hauls herself up into the front seat, plopping onto the leather surface with a deadpan expression written all over her face. “You’re despicable.”

“Ooh, that’s a neat new word! Are you working on expanding your vocabulary? Proud of you, love.”

“Just shut up and drive, Tiger Woods.”

“To our usual spot?”

She maneuvers to position herself accordingly, propping her feet onto his lap as he finagles the buggy into the designated setting. She fixes her frilly pastel blue skirt over her thighs as she does so, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sly eyeful. Knowing him, he’d definitely take the chance.

Y/N taps the tip of her shoe against his lean tummy for significance, shrugging her brows impassively as she leans her head back against the nearest railing. “Where else would we go?”

“I dunno, maybe back to the club so your family isn’t left wondering where you are? S’kinda rude to make them wait,” he pauses for a moment to glance down at the watch decorating his wrist, humming to himself in realization, “especially because lunch is already being served. Food’s gonna get cold.”

“They can wait five minutes. It takes longer than that to starve to death.”

“Pretty brutal.”

“What is?”

Harry glimpses over at her with his tongue pressed along the inside of his cheek, condescension scribbled all over his demeanor. It’d been infuriating if he wasn’t so hot. Well, it’s infuriating regardless, but at least his attractiveness allows her to benefit from his antics.

The young man’s accent holds the same type of smugness slathered across his plush lips and defined cheekbones, and his words send a flush of heat down the knobs of her spine. “That you’d rather get fucked in an equipment shed than spend quality time with your relatives.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him pettily, muscling down the warmth rising up her neck. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing much.” He bobs his shoulders easily, tone dismissive and indifferent as he secures one bejeweled hand onto the steering wheel, the other finding perch above her knee. He gives it a playful squeeze, his dimples winking at her flirtatiously when she jolts at the iciness behind his chunky rings. “Just an observation, s’all.”

“I’m not sleeping with you so you can make observations.” She grumbles, but despite her attitude towards him, she doesn’t make any conscious effort to shed his touch. His skin is always so soft, and the sensation of his large palm resting anywhere on her body feels so fucking right.

“Aren’t you?” Harry inquires with snarky pretension, dropping the sole of his sneaker onto the acceleration pedal and causing the car’s ignition to roar to life. The tiny vehicle takes off across the slopes of the golfing meadow, jumping and creaking as it rides over all the dips and hills of the valley, trees and flags whizzing by as it speeds towards an all too familiar trail. “Because last time I checked, you seem to love it when I observe you on your knees. Beg for it, even.”

Y/N’s jaw clenches tightly at his taunting. “Piss off.”

“How’s that go again? Something along the lines of,” he sweetens his voice down into a dramatic pleading lilt, mimicking her moans from the past, “‘You taste so fucking good, Harry.’ and ‘I love it when you cum on my face, baby.’ and ‘I want you to fuck my mouth, daddy. Want it so bad.’”

The young woman’s teeth squeak from how hard she’s biting back her anger. “Asshole.”

“Is that not right? Is that not what happens?” Harry implores with a ridiculing pout and fluttering lashes, going out of his way to ride on her last nerve. His fingers begin to crawl higher up her leg, sneaking beneath the billowing edge of her skirt and tracing random shapes along the suppleness of her inner thighs, pinching and twisting at the flesh until he gets a physical response. He adores seeing her squirm against the waxy seat as she suddenly grasps onto his arm needily, especially because she does absolutely nothing to deter him from continuing. “Sorry, my memories get jumbled sometimes. There’s just so many of them, y’know? You whimper and whine for my cock so often, I can hardly keep track of every single time. Maybe I should start a transcript or summat, hm?”

Y/N’s voice pipes up low and venomous, but there’s a trembling undercurrent to it that she can’t deny. “If you keep being a dickhead, this’ll be the last one.”

Harry tuts conceitedly, cooing at her as his digits dive deeper into her bottoms, hooking into her panties and toying with her clit beneath the damp material. He doesn’t break his gaze away from the expanse of grass before them, but his arrogant simper is wide enough that she gets the perfect view of it from his ridiculously handsome side profile. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Get fucked.”

“I’m about to.”

[i-did-not-mean-to]

He's a 10, but... - Part 1

My darling @sorisooyaa has given me the permission to write one of her HCs/OC ideas...

And God, didn't I run with it? I am sorry...I am so sorry...

So - despite resting and having dinner with my husband - I am able to offer you the first part of this right now 🙈

Words: 1,7k

Characters: Maglor x South Asian OC, Maedhros

Warnings: rude language

“God, I expected so much more from you!”

Ashira rolled her eyes, adjusting the tiny plugs in her ears before they could fall out, and went on folding away the ridiculous stage outfits of the man she was essentially babysitting while her mother screeched her disappointment into the phone.

She, herself, had also at least hoped for something more fulfilling when she had accepted what she had then thought would be her dream job; after over a year of filing documents and getting coffee for pompous executives, she had believed that her day had finally come when her boss had announced to her that he thought her ready to take care of a client – a big, important client at that – on her own.

Little had she known back at that moment that minding Maglor would be akin to watching a petulant toddler on a perpetual sugar high.

“This is not what we paid a fortune in college fees for,” her mother went on pouring bitter poison into her ringing ears; she meant well, Ashira knew that, but she couldn’t help feeling deflated by the disappointment in the woman’s usually so tender voice.

“I am sorry, mother,” she whispered and – as there was nothing more to be said – she ended the phone call and almost dropped her face into the pile of garishly neon shirts she was putting away. What dreams she had once had and what courage she had lost on the way!

“Ugh,” she groaned, “that ridiculous, bratty, insufferable man-child!”

“Is he really that bad?”

She whirled around – shocked beyond words – to find a tall, handsome man leaning against the metal beam of the stage, a broad grin twisting his beautiful face into a work of art. His stunning face – pale and angular – was crowned by a halo of flaming red hair and the curve of his mouth made him appear boyishly cheerful despite the lines of sorrow and pain graven into his fair skin.

“I am sorry,” she stammered again, “I spoke out of turn.”

It would not do to be caught badmouthing her client; if she ever wanted to be promoted to an associate rather than a mere assistant manager, this kind of faux pas was certainly unforgivably careless.

“Not at all,” the man replied quickly, “I want to agree with you, but I’d love to hear your reasons!”

He strode closer now, appreciating the way her dark eyes flashed with intelligence and distrust and how the discreet golden ornaments around her slim ankles and elegant wrists caught the weak beams of the dimmed stage lights.

So this was the little assistant his brother’s manager had assigned to him, he thought, interest flaring up in his sharp mind; she was truly pretty and probably entirely wasted on an idiot like Maglor.

Due to his own predilections, he could appreciate the rich tone of her skin and the elegant curve of her huge eyes that glistened like wet ink as she stared up at him – undaunted and brave – with a tiny scowl on that soft rose petal mouth; yes, she was definitely a stunning woman and the way her feet moved into a wider stance reminded him of water flowing effortlessly and unstoppably down a ravine.

Dutiful as ever, Maedhros had heeded and followed the imploring call he had received a few days prior and – preceding his other dawdling siblings – had rushed to the remote location of Maglor’s final concert on his tour; the fact that his brother had brought up this girl at least thrice during a 5-minute call had contributed to his haste though and – now that he saw this fairy-tale princess with her unfathomable eyes and velvet skin – he understood everything.

She didn’t seem to like Maglor though and that gave Maedhros pause; if he could, he’d find out how his younger sibling had messed this up already and try to remedy the situation as fast and as thoroughly as possible. Maglor’s happiness was important to him, despite his well-meaning mockery and – as his older brother – Maedhros would do whatever was within his power to support and aid him.

“It’s just…” Ashira started but remembered just in time that it was a bad idea to go blabbing to the first good-looking stranger who came strolling into the backstage area if she truly wanted to carve out a career for herself in the music industry. The waters here were full of sharks and leeches.

“Yes?” the stranger prompted gently, freezing a few paces away into watchful readiness.

With a shrug, she gestured towards the pile of clothes and the cheap trinkets that were passed off as accessories in the elaborate and overly artificial show she had seen one too many times; she was sick and tired of it and couldn’t wait to go back home.

Maybe, she thought, it was time to admit that her parents were right and let go of her dream. She had given it a shot and not made it anywhere, and it hurt to admit that – despite her best efforts – she just wasn’t cut out for it.

“It’s such a waste,” she whispered under her breath, “I think he has a good voice, but that music? Torture. He might even be a decent-looking man if he didn’t choose to dress like a clown at a rave party for prepubescent children.”

To her utter surprise, the stranger threw his head back and guffawed until he had to brace himself against another beam not to topple over.

“I think you are spot-on in your analysis,” he panted, “but – allow me to assure you – Mags has a great voice and he’s probably not even the ugliest of the bunch!”

“The bunch?” Ashira leaned forward subconsciously in her eagerness to find a single nugget of authentic truth about the creature she had lost sight of once more, which she only remembered when she was not interrupted every two seconds.

Fatigue washed through her at the thought of having to chase Maglor through the whole backstage area to make sure that he arrived at the hotel in one piece; she was his jailor, his zookeeper, his nanny, and she resented him for squandering her precious talents on such anodyne tasks.

“Oh, he’s not told you that he has 6 brothers?” the man asked, his brow furrowing slightly, “well, I am telling you now then. Let me think, well, I suppose you’re also spending the night in the hotel? Why don’t you come over to the room,” he checked his key, “389 in an hour or so?”

“That would be highly irregular,” she retorted coldly; her head was spinning with all this new information being dumped on her so suddenly. Maglor had indeed hinted at being one of many boys at home, but she had only ever caught the odd reference here and there without paying it any more heed.

“I just want to make your life – work-life, I promise – a bit easier,” he grinned and then extended his hand, “I’m Maedhros by the way.”

“One of the brothers, I surmise?” she asked sharply, “In that case, maybe you can find Maglor and ascertain he’s not kidnapped between the venue and the hotel?”

“The pretty one,” he smirked, “who makes all the others look rather plain in comparison. And sure, I’ll wrangle the brat. See you later!”

Whistling a merry tune, he disappeared down a dark corridor and Ashira was left to wonder whether she should accept his invitation or not.

“She moves like a dancer,” Maedhros commented later, stretching out his long legs on the pristine sheets while watching his brother towel dry his dark hair haphazardly, “have you ever seen her dance?”

“No.” Maglor made a face; he was no longer sure if it had been such a good idea to ask his oldest brother for help. Having been in a committed relationship with the same man for over a decade, Maedhros was the last person who might have offered any valuable insight into the workings of a young woman’s mind and heart, but he was unfortunately also the first person who came to Maglor’s own mind when he was feeling insecure or upset.

“I get on her nerves,” he admitted, sadness weaving hollow notes into his beautiful voice, “and I don’t know, for the life of me, what I’ve done to upset her so.”

“As the person who’s babysat you for most of your life,” Maedhros replied with easy grace, “I can tell you: You’re a damn brat. Spoiled, temperamental, and entirely impossible to take seriously.”

Then, after a pause, he added: “Also your music is awful.”

“Well, thank you brother dearest,” Maglor grunted, “and here I was thinking that you’d come to cheer me up and to assure me that I am not wasting my life.”

Maedhros cocked his head slightly, red locks tumbling artfully over his shoulder, and Maglor rolled his eyes; he had not been blessed with his brother’s gift of looking picture-perfect at all times, but he had thought that his ability to make beauty – to conjure it up by the skill of his fingers and the passion of his heart – would count for something. Now, it seemed that even that blessing had forsaken him.

“Why do you do that? Dress up like a monkey on crack? Let computer programs distort your beautiful voice?” Maedhros then asked gently, sitting up further and waving his brother closer to envelop him in a tight hug as he had always done when either one of them had been upset.

“My manager said I had to sell what people want to buy,” Maglor replied sheepishly; he cared about his music, but he knew very little about the machinations of the world. It was too easy by far to sway him by sweet words or fervent pleas and – evidently – he had lost his way on his path to fame and fortune.

“The others will arrive shortly,” Maedhros informed him carefully, “and we’ll look together into what can be done. I might already have an idea though.”

Before he could go on though, he was interrupted by a short, forceful knock.

“What…”

“Watch and marvel,” Maedhros grinned as he went over to the door of his room, “Nelyo’s still got it. Big Brother extraordinaire, the man, the marvel, the mystery.”

So, my darling baby girl, here is my humble offering.

If you do not find this terrible, I will go on and give you shirtless Maglor, sweet kisses, and a better future for everyone!

Lots of love from me <3

@eunoiaastralwings I tag you too as a thank you for the amazing HC you put out today :D

-> Part 2

[curmudggeon]

An Unexpected Encounter (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

After receiving an invitation to the mayor's Gala party, you encounter the one person you despise the most, Arthur. Just when you thought your rivalry would get any more infuriating, he comes along and one thing leads into another or maybe even into something more...

“Fuck it.”

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Minor spoilers of 'The Gilded Cage' Mission, Vulgarities, Alcohol, Guns, Violence, and Sexual intentions

A/N: Honestly, I didn't know where I was going with this. It's been quite a while since I've written. While playing through this mission, I was thinking of an enemies-to-lovers type of banter with the whole glitz and glamour of the situation. I hope you enjoy it or maybe not...

The grand music by the string quartet swelled into the elegant ambiance of the evening. With Saint Denis’ high society gathered together into one establishment, being invited into these types of conventions was a rare opportunity. You managed to get in the mayor’s party through close connections within the city. It was a chance to get your hands on valued pickpockets from pompous rich people; away from the hassle of collecting useless bounties.

The mansion was rather extravagant as you entered; unique architecture and expensive pieces of artwork looking out into the outskirts of the city. The scent of liquor, cigars, and the deep aquatic plants of the Bayou was intoxicating.

Defying all the odds of 1899 fashion, you wore a dress that had a slit on the slide of your right thigh that was high enough to hide the spare gun that you managed to sneak in despite having to surrender the rest of your weaponry at the entrance.

The mayor’s servants eyed you closely when you laid out your revolvers in front of them, since it was apparently absurd to witness a woman carrying such hefty guns. Winking at them as you moved away, you scowled under your breath at their suspicion and avoid being further searched. It was your only option of protection in case a fiasco had broken out in the middle of your pickpocket adventure.

Conversations started to tune out the music in the background, the heads of married men turned towards your direction as you made your way through the party, striding with utter grace and elegance to catch the eyes of your potential suitors to steal from.

Grimaced expressions were coated on the faces of the women while examining your revealing choice of clothing. You stood beside the refreshments, holding a free glass of champagne, as you glanced at the group of women engrossed in conversation regarding the lady that came into the establishment. You.

Raising your eyebrow as you sipped on the champagne, you gave them a firm nod headed their way, causing the litter of southern belles to widen their eyes at your acknowledgment and quickly disperse from their conversation. Real smooth.

It was the kind of attention you had gotten used to. After all, being the only woman bounty hunter in the city wasn’t normal in the present day’s context. Opting for a more reckless and freer lifestyle gave you a sense of adrenaline; to escape every expectation of conservative American society. You felt entitled to be who you are and wanted to be. A free woman. You started making a name for yourself in this city, bounty after bounty until one particular man decided to show up and defeated all your means of survival on the jobs you took on...

Arthur

The sound of his name left a sour taste in your mouth. He was the reason why it started to get progressively difficult collecting bounties. When you showed up for a $100 bounty for the leader of the Lemoyne Raiders, Lindsey Wofford at the abandoned fort, that is how you met Arthur. You were outnumbered. Deciding to team up with him, was the last thing you should’ve done. He was charming at first, but then came the point when he handed over Lindsey’s body to the police, betraying your efforts to help attain the bounty as he kept the prize to himself. So much for being handsome.

The moment bounty posters were displayed, it became a competition to get to them first. He would capture or kill them before you did. The feeling of immense frustration struck you as he flashed that lazy, crooked smirk of his. Arthur tipped his hat to you while collecting his reward for the day.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath, unable to contain the urge to lunge at him for beating you to it. The glimmer in his eye resembled the commencing of his mockery towards you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Princess.” His eyes shined with amusement along with that stupid grin of his slowly widening at your reaction. Oh, he is so not going to see the light of day any time soon.

Your anger was at its peak, ready to set off and wipe that smug expression off his face. You couldn’t let him have this, not this time. Within a blink of an eye, you reached for your pistol and aimed it at Arthur’s head with ease.

“You take that back.” His face slowly turned south as his grin disappears upon my demand. I thought so, too.

“Woah, Woah, young lady. Put the gun down,” The policeman warned as he stood with his hand out to coax you into dropping my line of fire and from blowing Arthur’s brains out in front of him.

Ignoring the warning, you focused on Arthur, waiting for his apology. After a long pause of silence, his face slowly distorts, as if he can’t control the outburst of emotions flowing within him.

He’s

He’s laughing?

Your eyebrows furrowed even further as he slowly bends his arms onto his knees as blurts of laughter simultaneously start to escape his mouth. The policeman was surprised at the sudden change of atmosphere, as he stares at Arthur like a madman. He walks away, shaking his head as he retorts lowly, “I don’t get paid enough for this job”.

Rolling your eyes, you were annoyed at the fact Arthur doesn’t take you seriously. Even as your rival, it was unbelievably childish of him to do so. He continued to wheeze as if I’m the biggest joke in the whole wide world. “Ha ha. Very funny, Arthur”

A small smile crept up your mouth as you lowered your aim of fire and place it back into the holster at the round of your hip. You had to admit, he had one of the most contagious laughs you have ever heard, but that doesn’t mean you should lose your guard against the one person you despise the most. In defeat, you left the police station before he had anything else to say to mask yourself in humiliation.

“This changes nothing, I’m still going to beat you.”

-

A few glasses of champagne and pickpockets later, you managed to get your hands on some gold rings, silver-plated watches, and money off drunkards that made their way to you. They were easily wrapped around your finger to steal behind their back. The men surrounded the area as they unwind into the evening with very little knowledge, of what’s coming to them. You secretly stashed the contents of your pickpockets into your purse while walking away from endless conversations about politics and the weather.

Getting bored by the events occurring before you, in the corner of your eye you spot the mayor; Henri Lemieux by the fountain.

Hoping to make a name for yourself in this city —and probably pickpocket him, you make your way to his location. With elongated and purposeful sashays, you stopped in your tracks when you heard footsteps following behind you.

“Hey, little troublemaker.” His voice resonated through you.

Within a split second, you knew that warm, gruff voice anywhere. Frozen in your tracks, you closed your eyes and mentally cursed to yourself as you just got caught red-handed.

In front of you was your shadow cascading on the brick flooring of the garden as Arthur’s tall and burly figure enveloped yours under the dim moonlight. He was directly behind your back, just barely touching the exposed skin of your shoulders. You could feel the warm heat radiating off of him, making you shudder.

Slowly turning around to acknowledge his presence, composing yourself with utmost annoyance to resist the intoxicating proximity in between.

"Oh, it's you." He chuckled at your sarcastic remark as you admired his ravishing appearance. He donned a well-fitted Tux that hugged his biceps perfectly, along with the slicked-back hair from the usage of pomade to style it.

The view of him was a refreshing sight. Seeing him in such a way, despite the usual boyishly rugged blue shirt of his, that shaped his figure well tingled on your skin. He smelled of musk and wildflowers. The scent caused an involuntary sigh out of you before you could realize what you had just done.

"It's nice to see you." Slightly grinning, he stared at you closely. Holding eye contact as he took in the sight of your appearance. Before you stared at each other longer than the both of you had anticipated, fireworks had burst in swirls up in the sky. It caught the attention of guests as they watch the beautiful night sky be painted with streaks of vibrant colors. Comments of amazement filled the air.

Shifting your gaze back to Arthur, you felt like your heart had stopped for a mere second. What?

Arthur had already been staring at you, and your face started to slightly warm at the realization. As if on cue, at the side of the fountain was the mayor and his servant, quietly arguing. You eavesdrop only to hear the contents of the discussion 'Cornwall' and 'horse's ass'. Bingo. You knew anything that had to do with the wealthy man was a big deal to make out of. And definitely would come with something worthy to steal.

As the servant departs away from the mayor, Arthur was already making his way towards him to find out more information. Oh no, you don't.

You follow behind discreetly with the same intention before he finds something more useful than the already invaluable pickpockets in your purse.

Making way back through to the entrance of the Mansion, Arthur makes his way upstairs to the staircase leading towards the mayor's office, as you follow shortly after.

He enters the office quietly as he jams to open the locked drawer with a letter opener on the table. Slowly, you make your way to lean against the door frame, crossing your right leg over the left one to increase the view that revealed your exposed skin with a revolver strapped to your thigh. Preparing to display your disapproval of his actions, you fold your arms as he voices out the contents of the letter. "Mr. Leviticus Cornwall... Top secret… Extremely confidential. Very interesting."

"Very interesting, huh?" His head quickly turns in my direction upon the sound of my voice. His eyes widen. Gotcha cowboy.

Smiling innocently at his reaction, you slowly tilt your head the opposite way of the door frame, awaiting his response.

He pauses for a while as his gaze reaches your face as it makes its way through the revealed skin and revolver coyly making an appearance to him. Breaking off his stupor, It takes him a few seconds to process your actions as you walk towards him.

“What’s that?” He turns his back to prevent you from have a closer scan of the confidential document. Trying to reach it from out of his hands, he turns in another direction, holding the document up in the air far from your reach.

“Nothing useful,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone as he remains amused at your multiple attempts of stealing it from him. He looks away from you, dodging any suspicious allegations you might get just by narrowing your eyes at him.

“If you’re trying to hide it from me, sure as damn means it’s useful.” You hiss at him to hand it over as you continue trying to get up to his height to retrieve the ‘useless’ document out of his hands. Giving up, you stop your actions as an idea had come to mind. A stupid one.

Removing the revolver off your thigh, you pointed the gun at his foot to threaten him into giving you a glimpse of the contents of the paper regarding Leviticus Cornwall.

“I’d love to see you try,” His deep blue eyes sparkled as he challenged you with delight. Arthur knew you wouldn’t dare to pull the trigger and risk another catastrophe to happen at the mayors’ mansion.

Fireworks outside the window started to quieten down and conversations start to resume back to normal.

The sound of a key unlocking a door from another part of the office fills the room.

You look at Arthur with a slightly panicked facial expression. He folds the document neatly and places it inside the inner breast pocket of his tux as you quickly strap back your gun to the side of your thigh.

Arthur moves swiftly past you and grabbing you by the wrist before both of you get caught.

We make our way through the hallway and down a few steps down the staircase to get as far away from the office as possible. The soft tones of speaking at the end of the stairs traveled just at the rounded corner of the wall, nearing the both of you. Heavy stomps became louder and louder at the top of the staircase. You and Arthur were dead in your tracks, standing in the middle of the staircase, as your only two options of escape were far from reach. It was a dead end. This was a day you would go to jail, the both of you.

“Fuck it.”

And he kisses you. Hungrily and ever so desperately.

Pushing you against the wall as his hand cups the back of your neck bringing you close to him while the other was lowering to grab the exposed leg through the slit of your dress and cling it to the side of his hip. Your heart was beating out of your chest, ringing into your ears. And you were pretty sure he was able to hear it too. Not being able to grasp the situation, your stunned eyes fluttered shut, forgetting the entirety of your surroundings with his lips crashing on yours. Arthur’s lips.

There was no denying your attraction towards Arthur, from his physique to that annoying smirk of his that kept you on edge, it was hard to pay attention to the rivalry the both of you shared. Sometimes neither of you noticed the longing but yet despising looks you and Arthur exchanged. You thought you were being delusional, but It always seemed to be so much more. An indescribable magnetic force, pulling and pushing away from each other.

His stubble along the sides of his jaw skimmed the surface of your chin, inviting a light hum to alight from your lips from the contact. It made him smile against your lips, enjoying your compliance with his actions. Unable to resist, you grabbed the ends of his suit into fists, bringing him closer as his hands explored the map of your skin. Just like a predator devouring its prey, you lightly moaned as the warmth of his skin against yours created an inexplicable connection. A grunt escaped his mouth at your reaction to his touch. Kissing you harder, his hand gently slid up the exposed skin of your leg and over your—

"Ahem,"

Breaking off your kiss, a look of disgust was plastered onto the face of the servant, stumbling upon a couple who can't seem to get a room.

Regaining consciousness, you realize the highly scandalous position the both of you were in. You against the wall, arching your back with your hands resting on his heaving chest. You look down, noticing the strap of your dress that had tipped of your shoulder, which revealed your cleavage a bit more than it had already displayed. And his hands, at your waist and up your thigh reaching, Oh. Your face turned bloodshot red.

In a protective stance, Arthur leans forward closer to shield the tantalizing sight of your appearance to the man who had caught both of you at the top of the stairs. Furrowed eyebrows and eyes of infuriation were headed his way.

"Oh, heavens" a group of maids that reached the staircase, quickly shuffled away to busy themselves with other things than going through the second floor of the mansion.

“Pardon me for the intrusion, but this area is strictly out of bounds.”

“Well, I don't see any signs suggesting, so”

The servant raises his eyebrow higher with arms crossed, emphasizing how ridiculous his comment was.

Arthur grumbles, “We’ll be on our way”

The man’s heavy footsteps move past us, giving you privacy to freshen up whatever articles of clothing that was out of place

Hesitant to make eye contact, you observed the bow tie that hung around Arthur’s neck like it was the most interesting thing you had ever seen. You could feel his intense gaze drilling holes into you as his eyes did all the talking. The air was thick, making it hard to breathe as each second passes by. There wasn’t an inch of space left between the both of you, except for the slight distance aching to be met at the lips. His fingers lifted your chin to divert your attention back to him.

You could see the reflection of yourself drowning in the deep seas of his cerulean blue eyes. His gaze lowers down to the swell of your lips. Momentarily, time stops moving, it was the climax of something different. Something exciting, that the hatred you had spent building up for him was collapsing. Something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

There’s a gravitational pull pulling us closer and closer…

The basis of physics was no match for the two of you.

Lips barely grazing onto yours as light music soars in the background,

“Arthur!”

He stops, painfully closing his eyes to the familiar voice that constantly put him to work.

The tension breaks like a gunshot piercing through the air, pulling you out of your daze and back into reality.

What the fuck just happened?

Arthur groans and smothers his face into the crevice of your neck. His arms tightening around your waist, holding for dear life like you were going to slip away from his fingers. Gibberish left his mouth, whining like a child being awoken from his slumber, as the voice that yelled for him gets louder.

You couldn't handle the position you were in, he was so close to you. Your heart could burst any time soon from his touch. It was nothing you had ever imagined with him, nothing you had ever experienced before. This feeling was new.

“I have to go” her murmurs barely under a whisper, only for you to hear. Arthur lightly kisses the skin of your shoulder to signal his departure. The sensation tingles as he separates away from you.

The initial distance that was so close between the both of you was now a little too far away for your liking. Leaving you at the staircase, he looks back at you.

Our eyes meet, and it’s only the two of us, and from this point onwards, everything changes, and you find yourself longing after his lips.

Maybe for once, things could change.

Maybe we can change.

Us.

part 2-?